Called a Chicken

He had thought that the rest would do her good, but by the time she opened her eyes, his wing over her was getting kind of soggy because she had started sweating from overheating and not just from the fever she may or may not have. He couldn't tell what was hot or not and that was a problem.

He quickly got his wing up off of her and she turned to him, eyes glassy and face flushed and opened her mouth to speak.

She ended up making a sound that sounded a lot more like a croak than a word, but hey, at least he hadn't accidentally killed her in her sleep.

"Water..."

He hopped up, his wings giving a panicked bout of irritated short flaps to balance himself as he almost fell to the floor. She hummed. "Nice breeze," she mumbled in his direction.

He perked up at that. Okay maybe he wasn't doing as much damage to her as he thought he was. Either way, he had no idea what he was doing besides getting her another bottle of water. He only just realised her old one had been emptied while he had been talking on the phone to Chloe and Dan.

"I'll be right back with the water, and then maybe I will flap away to keep you cool."

She smiled at him, her eyes slightly unfocused. "Sounds good."

He definitely hoped the water would do her good, and so far everyone had been recommending he give her plenty of water. So, he quickly went out to the kitchen, got another bottle and picked out a new straw for it.

He was back by her side in under a minute. She held the bottle in both hands, like she was afraid she was going to drop it and sipped at the water.

A weird look crossed over her face and before he could even think of getting her the bowl, she vomited over her sheets. The mess was horrible to look at, and mostly liquid from all the water. But there were...oh, he was going to be sick himself if he didn't do something about that.

Ella just blinked down at her messy sheets, frowning like she hadn't expected that. For once it looked a lot like what he was used to, except with water instead of alcohol involved. It had just happened with little warning and she hadn't been able to act on it.

"Lucifer? I need a shower. And a change of clothes. And my bed changed."

He nodded his head wildly. "Yes! Yes, you do. You're a mess of...mess right now. Can you walk? Do you hurt anywhere? Do you want me to wash your hair for you?"

She stared at him, before giving him a slow blink at the words he was saying. "I'm sick, not injured. I can shower myself..."

He nodded again at that. "Okay, I'll change the bed then, while you are in there. Where's the linen closet?"

"The door before the bathroom. Use the old cotton sheets, not the fancy ones you got me. And thanks. I don't think I'll have the energy after a shower to do much of anything but sleep..."

He looked at her with what he hoped wasn't alarm in his eyes. "You'll drink more water first. Everyone says you should be drinking a lot of water."

She rolled her eyes at him, before slowly getting up, sitting down at the side for a few seconds, before pushing herself up onto her feet. She looked a little wobbly on her feet. He rushed to her side and grabbed at her elbow, until she was steady on her feet and hovered nervously at her side when she was balanced again.

She sighed loudly. "Lucifer, stop acting like a mother hen. I'm fine. Or I will be fine. I've been sick plenty of times just like this in my life. You hovering over me like an overgrown chicken is not going to help."

He quickly tucked his wings away so they weren't visible to her and fought off a blush he could feel wanting to surface across his face. "You think I'm acting like a chicken?"

She nodded. "Always hovering around, white wings, yep, chicken."

He could feel said wings puffing out in irritation at being equated with a clumsy bird who seemed to exist just to be eaten nowadays. Not to mention bad fliers and have become known as being cowards. Seriously, he would never get that. Chickens can be bloody vicious when they want to be.

That didn't make him feel better about things. He left her to go to the bathroom on her own, instead going to the door beside the bathroom and opened it only to freeze. She had several sets of sheets not including the ones he had gifted her. He felt them all to try and find the most comfortable, before pulling out a set of light purple sheets and taking them back into her bedroom.

He stripped the bed of the soiled sheets and it took him a few minutes to get the new ones settled on the bed. He bundled up the used ones and stared at them. He had no idea where the washing machines were. Did she have them in the flat, or is it a shared commodity with the building? He'd have to ask her when she got out of the shower.

He didn't have to wait that long. Apparently she hadn't had the energy to actually wash her hair, but instead just cleaned it off of vomit at the tips. He was fine with that. At least she was clean and back in pyjamas. She looked at her bed, gave him a small, tired smile, before burying herself between the clean sheets.

"Thanks," she said, closing her eyes.

He went for the water bottle, and held it under her eyes. "Drink first and then sleep. Water is good apparently."

She moaned, but reached for it. "Fine. Mother hen."

He clucked at her. This was one point he would hold down on and enforce. She was going to drink her water, Dad help him... The clucking did get a real smile out of her and a small chuckle, so he felt like it was a win on his side, even if she was reluctant.

She refused to eat anything else, and with the scene he had viewed when she had been sick, he could understand that perfectly.

He was so glad he didn't vomit.

Once she had drank a few more mouthfuls of water, had snuggled up under the sheets and he had made sure she was comfortable, he asked where the washing machine was, followed with asking if he could have a shower while she dozed off.

It was a shared commodity in the building down the hall and yes, he could have a shower.

By the time he had gotten the laundry done and got back to her flat, Ella was fast asleep. She was still asleep when he started running the shower. He knew because he inched his way out to check on her when he had it at a nice temp for him to enjoy.

He spent a half hour in there. He was usually fast in the shower, but he wasn't expecting to be hit by a sudden and unexpected crying fit.

At least he was alone and Ella didn't know.

She would never know.

He couldn't worry her like that.