A/N: for the drabble-tag prompt - (scenario) taking care of someone when they're sick
"What kind of soup is that?"
James paused, about to kick the bedroom door shut. Regulus peered out from under his very dignified pile of blankets and quilts, eyes narrowed suspiciously at the tea tray he was carrying.
"You look like a cranky alligator," James said. "What are you doing under all that? You're going to boil."
"Answer the question."
"It's chicken soup," James said, bewildered. "Why?"
"That's not what I meant."
James rolled his eyes and kicked the door fully shut. "What did you mean then? I'm not a mind reader. Have you got a problem with chicken soup? I've seen you eat it before."
Regulus emerged from his nest, grumbling under his breath. His hair was flat on one side, and his cheeks were flushed, either from sickness or from burying himself inside a mountain of fabric. James completely ignored the little irate mutterings, carefully crossing the room with the tray held aloft, avoiding the general debris of shoes and track shorts he'd left strewn all over the place. He always claimed it was an accident whenever Regulus tripped over something on his way out of bed each morning, but secretly he liked the way Regulus got mad enough to come right back to bed.
"Here," he said, sitting on the edge of the quilt-pile. "Dinner is served."
He presented the tray with a careful flourish before settling it on Regulus's quilt-covered knees. A bowl of hot chicken soup sat front and centre, flanked by a box of cold medicine and an unopened bottle of water. It made for bit of a miserable sight, if he was honest.
Still, miserable sight or not, he didn't think it warranted the level of disgust in Regulus's glare.
"What?" James asked, a little exasperated. "I know it's not your imported specialist cheese that stinks out the fridge, but I'd be surprised if you can keep down the water, let alone your fancy rich-people food."
"You're not allowed to touch that cheese anyway," Regulus muttered, prodding the soup bowl petulantly.
"Would it help if I fed you? Is that what you want?" James wasn't mature enough not to wiggle his eyebrows, and Regulus wasn't mature enough not to stick out his tongue. "Oh, come on." He softened his voice, leaning in slightly as a little of his worry bled through. "Will you just tell me what the problem is, so I can try and fix it?"
Regulus looked up from the bowl. He met James's eyes, pupils a little wider than normal, fever-bright and still as pretty as they were every day.
"The problem," he said, in a soft little voice that automatically made James lean in even closer, "is that I don't know if you made this soup from scratch, so I don't know if it's safe to eat."
It took a moment for the words to register, for the softness to fade. The gooey, heart-squeezing feeling he'd gotten vanished, and James leaned back, face blank with betrayal. The very first snicker Regulus permitted almost made the gooey feeling come back, but he stood strong.
"You're a bastard," he said, jostling Regulus's shoulder. "I poured my heart and soul into opening that can of Heinz, and this is how you repay me? By slandering my culinary skills?"
"Don't," Regulus said, swaying and grinning. "Laughing hurts, and I don't want to be sick in your soup."
"It's your soup, and you're going to eat it. Every drop. Or I'll pour it in the bottom drawer of the dresser."
The bottom drawer of the dresser was filled with a tissue-wrapped collection of cashmere and wool jumpers. Each one cost more than what James would consider reasonable for a holiday. Recognising the threat for what it was, Regulus stopped laughing and obligingly tucked into the soup, making no complaints now that he knew it was store-bought. He finished the whole thing, both of them sitting in companionable silence, and he was sleepy enough by the end of it that he only pulled a face when James forced him to take some medicine.
"It's the drowsy kind, so you'll probably fall asleep," he said, after the bottle of water was half-empty.
"I won't."
"You will," James shot back, shaking his head with a smile. "You're so sensitive to medication anyway. You look like you need to sleep for a year to make up for this cold thing, so don't fight it."
Regulus opened his mouth, presumably to say something scathing, only to yawn widely instead. James chuckled. He reached out to brush his hair aside, combing his fingers through the soft locks. Regulus kinda needed a shower, but James didn't say anything. He just kept stroking and scratching until Regulus's eyes fluttered shut, and he let out a quiet sigh, leaning into the touch and tilting his head back.
"You're like a toddler," James observed, amused. "Or a cat."
"I prefer cats," Regulus said, eyes still closed.
"I'm sure you do." Gently, James shifted him until he was lying down, using the hand on his head to guide him onto a pillow. He moved the tray out of the way before Regulus could roll onto it, and watched him settle down for a moment. Then he carried the tray around the edge of the bed, towards the door. "Get some sleep, Reg."
"Where are you going?"
"I've got to do the dishes, and you need to sleep."
Regulus was still awake enough to glare at him, though he was sinking quickly into the mattress, swallowed by quilts. "Don't be stupid," he said. "Come here and sleep with me."
"I'm not sure you're up for that."
"Not that." Regulus scowled, not quite grasping the genius and intricacy of James's humour. He patted the quilts vigorously, more of a slap than anything, brows furrowed with impatience. "C'mon."
"I'll get sick."
"So what?" Regulus muttered, already dropping off. "I'll take care of you if you do."
And then he was out like a light. His face went slack, and he gave a little snore. James's heart lurched a little, then melted.
"What am I supposed to do with that, you bastard?" James asked the room at large, unbearably fond and a little disgusted by it.
He put the tray down on the floor, a little delighted at the thought of how much Regulus would yell when he discovered it the next morning, and crawled into the bed. He had to wrestle his way into the cocoon of quilts, leaving one between them to give the germs some kind of goal, and then he tucked his face into the back of Regulus's neck, pressing a kiss there. He was a little warm, but not dangerously so, and James wrapped an arm around him, nuzzling his neck until he dropped off to sleep too, sharing feverish dreams of chicken soup and cats and taking care of each other.
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