"Dii-ice! Where on Earth are you; your boss is dying!"
King Dice sighed in frustration for what felt like the fifth time since he'd arrived in the Underworld; he was tempted to try and make a run for the exit. Forcing a neutral expression on his face, he wove his way through the imps working around him, occasionally returning the odd wave, until he found himself outside of his boss' bedroom. He creaked open the door and peered inside to scope out the situation.
Inside the room, laying on a massive burgundy bed, the Devil was buried under a pile of blankets as Henchman dabbed his forehead with a cool cloth. The purple imp still wore the same worried expression King Dice had seen when he'd first arrived in the Underworld.
King Dice had come down to absolute chaos as Devil attempted to boss everyone around between coughing and sneezing fits. He had been thoroughly in denial about falling ill ("I'm the Devil, Dice; I would never come down with a mere mortal sickness," he'd said, before proceeding to double over and vomit) before finally collapsing and admitting defeat, allowing Henchman to drag him to his bedroom.
Dice was beginning to wish his boss had stayed in denial; it was slightly more tolerable than the way he was acting at the moment.
"Ugh, there you are! Do you know how long I've been waiting for you?!" the Devil snapped, suddenly siting up and nearly sending Henchman flying. Dice leaned on the doorway and tried not to roll his eyes.
"Boss, it's only been five minutes," he deadpanned. The Devil growled and narrowed his eyes in irritation as King Dice walked into the room.
"Don't get smart with me, Dice; I'm not in the mo-" he shot back before scrunching up his face while his breath hitched. Henchman's eyes widened in panic, and he scrambled under the bed. Briefly freezing in panic, Dice let out a squeak of fear and dove behind the foot of the bed-
-just in time for the Devil to finally sneeze and shoot out a jet of fire. Demonic illness was definitely a sight to behold.
Heart still pounding against his ribcage, King Dice peered over the edge of the bed, fully prepared to duck back down again in case it turned out to be a sneezing fit. Luckily, that seemed to be it for now; the Devil was currently sniffling and rubbing his nose. King Dice sighed in relief and stood up, Henchman crawling out from under the bed soon after. The Devil didn't seem to notice the panic he'd just caused, casually pulling out a tissue and blowing his nose, burning up the tissue in the process.
"Ugh, I swear this illness is what kills me," he groaned, dramatically flopping back down onto the pillows and covering his eyes with his arm. Henchman resumed wiping his boss's forehead with the cool cloth while Dice crossed his arms.
"We've been over this, Boss: it's just the flu, you'll be fine. You probably caught it from those cup brothers you've been gunning after; kids like them are basically germ factories," Dice explained as patiently as he could manage at the moment. All he got in response was another dramatic moan. "Anyway, what did you need in the first place?"
"It's too cold in here; I need more blankets," Devil responded, burrowing deeper into the pile of blankets on his bed. King Dice couldn't quite hide his disbelief at this request.
"Boss, you're currently buried in blankets; don't you think you're overdoing it just a bit?" he asked. The Devil merely gave a couple of pathetic-sounding coughs into his fist as a reply, peeking out of the corner of his eye as he did. Realizing he wasn't gonna win this one, Dice sighed in defeat. "Fine, I'll get you more blankets."
"And grab another box of tissues while you're out!" the Devil added as Dice turned his back. Giving a thumbs-up over his shoulder, Dice closed the door behind him, sighed out of pure frustration, pulling his hands down his face as he did, and walked out to get what he'd needed.
It was just for a few days. His boss would be better in a few days.
Returning with the tissues and blankets (along with a few other necessities), Dice shifted the supplies into his left arm and opened the door to the Devil's room. The demon in question was currently sleeping, chest rising and falling with each breath. Henchman was still fluttering in the air, worry obvious in his face. King Dice placed the tissues and blankets on the side of the bed and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey, why don't you go make sure everything isn't falling apart without the big guy? I can handle him for now," he offered. Henchman smiled with relief.
"Uh, no problem Mr. King Dice!" he replied, saluting as he darted out the door. Dice closed the door behind the little imp and turned back towards his sleeping boss. Sitting on the other side of the bed, he shook the Devil's shoulder.
"Boss, wake up," Dice said sternly. The Devil let out a mrmph and pulled the blanket over his head. "Boss, come on. You need to wake up for a bit; you can go right back to sleep afterwards." A small groan. "Boss." A rather loud whine. "Boss!"
"Ugh, what?" the Devil yelled hoarsely, angrily yanking the blankets off of his head. Dice cringed internally upon seeing his boss; he looked even more tired than before he took his nap, if that was even possible. His nose was a darker shade of red than usual, and his fur was sweat-soaked and messy.
"I got what you needed," Dice told him, setting the blankets on the bed and the tissue box on the bedside table. The Devil perked up almost immediately and grabbed the blankets, leaning across Dice's lap in order to do so, before wrapping himself in one of the scarlet ones.
"Ugh, it's about time! I've been freezing my horns off-," he started before his breath began to hitch once more. Thinking fast, King Dice quickly pulled a clump of tissues out of the box and shoved them into his boss's hands. The Devil barely had time to acknowledge the gesture before sneezing into them, burning the one on the top.
"Gesundheit," King Dice said casually. The Devil sneezed again, burning more or the tissues in the process, and briefly came up for a gasp of air before sneezing once more. He was about to say something to Dice before sneezing one final time, finishing the whole affair with a hacking cough. The Devil stared at the pile of ash in his hands before smearing it on his nightstand and flopping down once more. Cringing at this, Dice leaned over his boss's body and placed the tissue box over the ash stain. He then gently placed the back of his hand on the Devil's forehead before immediately yanking his hand back once he felt the intense, burning heat radiating off the demon's form.
(This was why he never brought a thermometer with him when the Devil was sick: as a demon with some degree of control over fire, he managed to run some scarily high fevers. The first time he'd come to take care of a sick Devil, he'd nearly had a heart attack over the 500 degree fever he was running before being informed that no, that was a quote-unquote "normal" fever for him.)
"Ugh, how do you mortals do this?" the demon asked. Dice rolled his eyes and began searching his pockets for something.
"Well, there is something that'll make you feel better…" he murmured, hand clasping around what he was looking for. The Devil seemed to realize his intentions and gasped.
"Dice, you wouldn't!"
"Boss, come on-"
"As your boss, I command you to-"
"As your partner, I'm telling you that this'll help you feel better," Dice interrupted sternly, pulling out a small glass vial of reddish-brown liquid. The Devil's eyes followed his number one's hands as he poured out a spoonful of medicine. Turning to his boss, King Dice moved the spoon towards the demon's mouth-
-only for him to move his head to the right like a stubborn child.
Raising an eyebrow, Dice moved the spoon to the right; in response, the Devil moved his head to the left. Dice gave an annoyed grunt before attempting to shove the spoon into his boss's mouth once more, causing the Devil to dodge it once more. This went on for a few minutes before the Devil covered his mouth with his blanket.
"Boss, come on!" Dice growled in frustration. He began to climb over his boss, still holding the spoon. The Devil, realizing Dice's new strategy, quickly vanished under the covers. Lifting them up revealed only darkness, confusing Dice before he saw a long, slender lump slither past him. "Oh no you don't!"
King Dice reached under the blankets and managed to grab something scaly and smooth. He yanked the Devil, now in the form of a snake, out from under the blankets before pinning him down with one hand. The Devil shapeshifted back to his normal form and hissed in protest, and Dice took the opportunity to shove the spoon into his mouth and make him swallow the medicine.
There was no way in here he was going through that again.
The Devil sputtered and gagged, briefly making Dice worry he was going to throw up again, before swallowing and turning to glare at Dice. He roared briefly, managing to produce a few sparks, before going into a hoarse, wet-sounding coughing fit. Dice rolled his eyes before rubbing the Devil's back as he coughed. Once he was done, the demon groaned and flopped onto his back.
"I cannot believe you would do that to me!"
"You'll thank me when you feel better later."
"I will being doing no such thing! That medicine tasted absolutely horrible!"
"Look, I don't control how it tastes-"
"Uh, excuse me?"
"What?!" the two shouted in unison, turning towards the doorway. Henchman had poked his head through the door while the two were bickering. The smaller demon glanced between the two before his eyes landed on Dice.
"Mr. King Dice, can I talk to you outside?" he asked. Raising an eyebrow, Dice nodded and stood up from the bed, ignoring the Devil's curious stare. He closed the door behind him, making sure to leave it open a crack in case the sick demon inside needed him.
"What's with the secrecy, Henchman?" he inquired, following the little demon as he fluttered away from the Devil's bedroom. Henchman glanced around before turning back to Dice.
"You know how Stickler's been redoing the soul count since the boss burnt the book?" he asked, glancing around nervously. Dice sighed tiredly; he was very aware of the Devil's lie about taking Cuphead's soul and the measures he'd taken to hide that lie.
"Yes, I'm aware," he deadpanned. Henchman hissed through his teeth nervously.
"Well, uh, he's…almost finished with it."
"WHAT?!"
Dice let out a yelp of surprise and whipped around. The Devil was currently standing behind the two, pitchfork in hand, looking absolutely furious. A few of the imps walking by looked over briefly out of curiosity before quickly looking away.
"Why didn't you tell me about this earlier?!" the Devil yelled angrily at Henchman. The demon in question shrunk back and began playing with his hands.
"I-I-I was going to tell you, boss! But then you woke up sick, and-and I didn't want you to make yourself worse!" he managed to stammer out, refusing to look his boss in the eye. The Devil pulled his hands down his face out of frustration and glared at Henchman.
"Ugh, the amount of sheer disrespect-" he began before clamping a hand over his mouth. While Henchman gave his boss a confused look, Dice quickly began to panic. He recognized that look; that look was the Devil's "I'm going to puke in roughly five seconds, and you'd better get out of the way before I do" look. Looking around in a panic, Dice's eyes landed on a nearby wastebasket. He grabbed it, eliciting some protests from the imp whom it belonged to, and shoved it into the Devil's arms-
-just in time for his boss to lose his lunch into it.
Both King Dice and Henchman cringed at the gagging and retching sounds currently coming from their boss. Dice silently walked behind the Devil and began to slowly rub circles on his back. After a while, the Devil pulled the wastebasket away from his face and put it on the ground. Any trace of anger on his face had been replaced by exhaustion.
"…Hey boss, why don't you go back to bed?" Henchman suggested gently, finally breaking the silence. Surprisingly, the Devil nodded in agreement and stumbled off, practically leaning on his pitchfork as he did. Henchman's eyes widened in surprise. "Gosh, he must be really out of it."
"…Take this and go find someone that can cook," he told Henchman, pulling out a slip of paper and shoving it into his hands. The demon was visibly confused, but he nodded and flew off. King Dice glanced over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of one of the imps carrying off the now-full garbage can (which Dice was rather grateful he didn't have to deal with; he was pretty sure he saw its contents squirm), before walking to get what he needed once more.
"Mind if I come in?"
Getting no answer from his boss, King Dice creaked open the door and peered inside. The Devil was curled up on top of his bed, both arms wrapped tightly around his stomach. Dice walked inside, a glass of water in his right hand, and sat down on the bed. Now that he was closer, Dice could practically feel the aura of misery radiating off the demon. He quietly pulled out a thermometer and slipped it between the Devil's lips. After a few moments of waiting, he took it out of his boss's mouth and examined it.
505.6 degrees. A bit higher than the usual, but nothing too worrying.
"How's your stomach doing?" he asked, stretching out in order to make himself more comfortable.
"'M feeling better," the Devil mumbled, unfurling slightly. Dice gave his boss a sympathetic look and slid the glass of water into his hand.
"Here, this'll help get the taste out of your mouth," he explained. The Devil nodded and sipped the water, managing to get down a little over half of it before putting it on the nightstand. Smiling, Dice gently tucked his boss in, who instantly snuggled into the blankets with a content sigh. Just as he did, there was a knock at the door before Henchman entered with a serving cart.
"Uh, got what you asked for Mr. King Dice!" he informed them, stopping the cart right next to the bed. Dice smiled while the Devil simply looked confused.
"Thanks Henchman," Dice replied, getting up and grabbing the tray. Henchman saluted in return and fluttered out of the room. The Devil eyed the bowl on it suspiciously.
"Whazzat?" he asked groggily. Dice chuckled and shifted over so that he was facing the Devil.
"Relaxed, it's just soup; I figured this might help your stomach settle down a bit. It's my grandmother's recipe, actually," he explained. The Devil relaxed slightly and reached for the spoon. Dice pushed his hand down. "Ah ah ah, oh no you don't. Let me handle this."
"Dice, I'm not a child," he said grumpily, crossing his arms. Despite this, he didn't make another grab for the spoon, so Dice took this as permission to pick it up and gather a spoonful of the soup. He then slid the spoon between the Devil's lips. The demon swallowed and made a pleased noise.
"How was it?" Dice asked. The Devil nodded, indicating it was good. Dice smiled and got another spoonful from the bowl, which the Devil ate enthusiastically. It didn't take very long for the rest of the soup to vanish.
Maybe he should've mixed the medicine into the soup. It was definitely easier to get him to eat the soup than to take the medicine.
"Alright, it's about time I headed back," Dice said, stretching as he got off the bed and began to walk out of the room.
"Wait!"
King Dice froze as he felt a hand wrap around his wrist. Turning around, he saw the Devil with his arm outstretched and his eyes averted in embarrassment.
"It's-it's just…well, it's rather lonely in here, and-and you know how I feel about being sick…" he mumbled shyly. Seeing his embarrassment regarding the subject, Dice smiled,
"Okay, I'll stay a little while longer. I need to be back to my apartment by tonight, though," he replied, sliding back into the bed. The Devil smiled and snuggled into the crook of Dice's arm. Finally, there was some level of peace and quiet in the room.
"…You do realize I'm going to have to give you more medicine soon since you threw up the last dose, right?"
"Don't ruin this, Dice."
"Mind if I come in?"
King Dice looked up from his book and gestured for Henchman to come in, not wanting to wake up the sleeping Devil snuggled against his arm. Henchman slowly opened the door, briefly scanning the inside of the room, before walking in.
"How're things going out there?" Dice asked as the purple demon approached. Henchman smiled with some level of mischief.
"Oh, everything's goin' great! Unfortunately, I may have 'accidentally' spilled some water on Stickler's records, which means he has to start over again," he replied, giggling mischievously. Dice chuckled and stroked the Devil's fur.
"Good, good. One less thing for him to worry about."
"Uh, anyways, how's the boss doing?" he whispered, looking over the black-furred demon with concern. Dice smiled and closed his book.
"He's doing better than before. Last time I took his temperature, his fever was down to 503," he replied. He then sighed in exhaustion and frustration. "Wasn't any easier to get him to take his medicine, though."
"Yeah, the boss has never been good with taking medicine," Henchman agreed. He then fluttered over to the Devil, pulled out a wet washcloth, and began dabbing his boss's forehead once more. "Shouldn't you be headin' back soon, Mr. King Dice?"
"Eh, what's the harm in staying a few more minutes? Boss seems pretty comfortable like this," he replied, shrugging casually. Henchman nodded and put the now-dry washcloth back.
"Gotcha. If you need anything, just call for me," he told Dice. He then fluttered out of the room, shutting the door gently behind him. Dice chuckled and went back to his book, feeling the gentle rise and fall of the Devil's body against his.
Maybe these next few days wouldn't be so bad after all.
