A/N: Prompt by Deskdraik:
Did Alastor ever eat anything that made him sick? A pretty drabble with a sick Alastor.

I'm going with a generally sick Alastor because food poisoning is really gross and I don't feel like doing it.

This chapter happens well after they got together, but before they leave the hotel.

Warning: given the current situation, I feel like I need to warn that the story here is pretty similar to the pandemic at hand. Maybe skip this chapter if that bothers you.

Husk should have known better than to let his guard down. Sure, the hotel's inhabitants had gotten off very easy so far, and the ones who caught something were not his fucking business as long as they stayed in their damned rooms, but that should have been a warning sign rather than something to make him feel at ease.

It was the Plague Season, which meant that all kinds of fun little illnesses popped up left and right, and typically about two thirds of Hell spent some time sick. If you kept your distance and took precautions, you might avoid it – Husk usually did, as he had no problem staying home and avoiding the other motherfuckers that inhabited Hell with him. But if you caught something you would spend the next few days – or weeks – feeling various levels of awful, depending on what you contracted. Jolly good times.

And the problem at hand?

"I will not quarantine myself", Alastor said to Charlie, a grinny sneer on his fever-flushed face. He had had to ditch his coat and bow tie because of feeling too hot, but apparently he would much rather walk around under-dressed than stay in his room for a week or two. Not that Husk was complaining about that part, since he rather enjoyed looking at the natural shape of Alastor's shoulders more than he did the padded coat.

Husk kept on polishing the already clean and shiny glass in his paws, ears perked high to listen in on the conversation he was not actually a part of. It was only a matter of time that he was included, though. He would bet good money on that, even if he couldn't yet tell if it would be Alastor or Charlie who would inevitably drag him in. He'd have to observe more to figure that out.

"Alastor. The doctor dropped her diagnosis on my desk just now, and according to her you have the pneumonic plague. It's highly contagious and may actually be fatal to sinners of lesser strength. Please reconsider your stance!"

"The implication that I'm willing to inconvenience myself for the sake of the others is simply laughable, my dear. Two weeks of isolation and boredom while Niffty pushes in trays of food through a tiny gap in my door is not my idea of a good time. I will have to refuse."

Husk rolled his eyes. Alastor was breathing laboriously and leaning heavily on his microphone stand, but he was still unwilling to stay in his bed and let the sickness claim the victory. It was no doubt partially his pride stopping him from doing what he was told to do, but more than likely he also feared the loneliness it would cause.

Husk knew way too well that the lack of social contacts was the worst punishment you could throw at Alastor. And in this case it would include absolutely everyone: the hotel's inhabitants, the random demons on the streets, the people in the Cannibal Colony, Charlie, Niffty, Mimzy, Rosie… and Husk. Everyone.

Yeah, Alastor would much rather put everyone else at risk than put himself through that.

Husk sighed to himself as he awaited the inevitable. After all, he knew what the obvious fucking solution to this was going to have to be. Might as well resign himself to his fate.

On that note, he was putting his money on Charlie now. Alastor had made up his mind, so now it was up to her to make the next move.

"Fine. Let's do this the hard way", Charlie said, hands on her hips and eyes narrowed at Alastor. She turned towards the bar and locked her eyes with Husk's. Yep, here they fucking went. Good game. Who could he claim his winnings from?

Charlie marched over to Husk, a determined grin replacing the hard look she had given Alastor. She thought she was being clever, did she?

She was about to regret everything.

"Husk", she said, and leaned both of her palms on the table to give off an authoritative air. It might have worked on someone who cared more. It was plain cute how much she tried, really. "Please tell Alastor that he needs to quarantine himself for everyone's sake, including yours."

She really thought he could do that? Yes, Alastor was much more likely to do things that Husk requested over anyone else's wishes. But no, even he couldn't just snap his fucking claws and get perfect obedience when Alastor was clearly against something. Telling him to go and isolate himself for two-ish weeks was not a reasonable request.

Time to play his own hand.

"Sure", he said, and motioned for Alastor to come closer. He had already trailed after Charlie, but Husk needed him even nearer.

Alastor gave him an inquiring look, clearly trying to figure out his battle plan. If his brain wasn't fever-addled he might have been able to do it, but alas. He would just have to follow Husk's lead.

Husk let a small smirk show, and moved his eyes down to Alastor's lips, back up to his eyes again, down again, and up again. Alastor's expression morphed into understanding mixed with visible confusion, but – bless his damned soul – he stepped within Husk's reach despite not fully getting the plan, giving his consent to what was about to come next.

Husk gently grabbed his overly warm cheeks and, without further ado, planted a big, lingering kiss on his lips.

Charlie squeaked in pure shock in the background.

Husk pulled away from the kiss, patted Alastor's cheek lovingly, and then stretched and stood up. "Well then. That's a hundred percent chance of me having the fucking plague as well now. Come on, Al, let's go quarantine ourselves like responsible people. Your house or mine?"

Charlie sputtered vague denials, protests, and reprimands, but even she had to understand the futility of it at this point.

Alastor proceeded to cough his lungs out in a sorry attempt at laugher instead of giving Husk answers or magicking them away. He would probably need to lay the fuck down the instant they arrived to their destination.

Really though. With Alastor being the clingy jackass he was, Husk would have ended up with the plague sooner or later no matter what. Might as well get it out of the way and suffer together.

Now he just needed to survive two weeks stuck in the same house with Alastor, with both of them being varying levels of sick. Oh well. Sometimes sacrifices were necessary if you wanted to win big.