A Day in Bed

Cynder snapped her wing joints into place and glided down towards the gardens of Warfang. Her paws touched down on the smooth, white stone of the small courtyard. All around her were a rainbow of colors from the different flowers surrounding her. The sweet scent of the many flora wafted up to her nostrils. She sighed contently.

The black dragoness was glad she and Spyro had decided to spend a day at the gardens. She couldn't quite remember the last time they had done this. Of course, with all of the other things they'd been doing lately, it wasn't all too surprising that she wouldn't be able to keep track. A faint blush rose to her cheeks as one particular activity they had been engaged in came to mind.

Oh, stop it. If Spyro knew you were thinking about that, he'd be insufferable.

You know you enjoyed it just as much as he did, a voice in her head countered, if not more so.

You're not helping!

Shaking her head from her less than innocent thoughts, Cynder padded over to a spot in the nearby grass. She laid down and closed her eyes. The grass was soft and comfortable underneath her. The bright sun warmed her scales and the cool breeze was soothing against her face. Had she not been waiting for Spyro, she could have stayed like that for the whole day.

It was only a few minutes later when someone called out to her.

"Hey, Cyn. Sorry I'm late. Did I keep you waiting too long?"

Cynder's brow quirked at the sound of the voice. It sounded a bit…off. Had this person not have called her 'Cyn' she would not have known who it was. She opened her eyes to see Spyro standing before her. As she got a good look at the purple dragon, she immediately discovered why he had sounded so odd.

The young drake stood a bit shorter than usual. He was slightly hunched over and his wings and tail drooped down more than they normally did. His stance was not as strong as it typically was either. His breathing was uneven and slightly ragged. His snout was moist as well. Spyro, noticing her puzzled expression, cleared his throat to regain her attention.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice a bit nasally. "What are you—achoo!"

Cynder stepped back away from the purple dragon who wiped his snout with a paw. She eyed him accusingly. "You're sick," she said plainly.

"I-I'm not sick! I'm just…not feeling the greatest right now is all. I'll be fi—achoo!" Spyro smiled sheepishly as the black dragoness looked at him disapprovingly. "Okay, I'm sick."

"What am I going to do with you?"

"I'll be okay; I promise!" he said unconvincingly. He gestured to the gardens around them. "We can still have fun today. I'll just be a bit…" His words trailed off as he felt another sneeze building up. Cynder brought up a wing to shield herself. Luckily, the sick male fought off the sneeze.

A grimace made its way to Cynder's face. "I don't think we'll be able to stay at the gardens today." She eyed some nearby flowers. "The flowers probably don't help. Why didn't you just stay in your room? You shouldn't be out like this."

Spyro's head dipped guiltily. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't want you to worry and ruin our day at the gardens."

Cynder let out a small sigh. "You don't need to apologize. It happens. It's not your fault."

At this, the drake chuckled nervously. "Uh, yeah… About that…"

The dragoness shot him a pointed glare. "What did you do?"

He looked away, not wanting to match her gaze. "Flame and I may have, ah, been out for a late night swim."

She resisted the urge to slap a paw against her face. "I swear, you males…I knew Ember and I shouldn't have let you two have a drake's night out. You two always get into the worst trouble!"

Spyro shrunk at her words. "Going out for a little swim wasn't that bad!" he said in an attempt to defend him and his friend.

"Yet now you're sick. I can only imagine what Ember is going through with Flame right now." Sighing once more, this time more exasperated, Cynder started walking away from the gardens. "Come on, we're going to pay a visit to the infirmary."

Spyro fell into line without argument and walked up to her side not too closely. "Are we not flying?" he asked as they turned around the corner.

"You're not really in a good condition to be flying."

"Point taken."

After some weaving through the streets of Warfang, the duo found themselves approaching the public infirmary. They entered through the double doors into a waiting room. Chairs and cushions of all sizes were laid out across the floor. There were a handful of others patiently waiting for the healer.

To her right, Cynder could hear her companion groan upon seeing how many others were already in wait. She rolled her eyes at his antics and stepped up to the receptionist mole sitting at a desk nearby.

"Hello, Miss Cynder, Master Spyro," the mole greeted pleasantly, bobbing her head at each of them. "What can I do for you today?"

"Hi, we need to see the physician." Glancing out of the corner of her eye and at Spyro, she added, "This one managed to get a cold and we'd like to know if there's anything that can be done."

The mole nodded, flashing a smile. "I'll add you two to the list. A few others came here before you, so you'll have to wait a bit. I'll call you when it's time. Please take a seat while you wait."

Cynder returned thankful smile to the mole. Spyro mirrored her action. Unlike Cynder, however, his face scrunched up and he sneezed loudly. Both the black dragoness and the receptionist grimaced. "Sorry," Spyro apologized, sniffling.

The couple moved to one corner of the room, away from the other patients so as to not spread Spyro's sickness. Cynder didn't sit too closely to the drake either, not wishing to catch what he had either.

"This is entirely your fault," Cynder said.

"Yeah," he replied.

"No one else to blame but yourself."

"Yep."

"You deserved this."

"One hundred percent."

"I hope you know that I'm just teasing you."

"I know. Because you care."

"Because I care."

Spyro shifted next to her, drawing Cynder's attention. Their gazes met and the black dragoness could make out a glint in his eye. "You know," he started, "I haven't quite shown my appreciation for you for accompanying me here..."

Cynder raised an eye ridge at him curiously. While it was certainly possible that he was genuinely grateful for her company—an unlikely outcome given how suspicious he was acting—she could not ignore the telltale signs that her drake had something in mind. "And just what are you planning, you big oaf?"

He feigned a wounded expression, one that Cynder saw through immediately. "After all we've been through, you don't trust me? I really do want to thank you for coming here with me, you know," he said in a hurt tone.

Despite Spyro's terrible acting, the dragoness could not help but feel a pang of guilt. He did have a point. By now, she should have been trusting him completely. She dropped her suspicion in favor of shame. "I'm sorry," she said relenting. "I really do trust you, but sometimes it gets a little hard to do that when you act like you're trying to hide something."

Spyro shook his head. "Nope. Absolutely nothing to hide. I want to show you just how much I appreciate you." A devious smirk made its way onto his muzzle. "And I think the best way to do that is by giving you the biggest kiss I can manage."

The male leaned towards her, bringing his muzzle very close to hers. Cynder pulled away, squealing. "Don't you dare!" she shouted, gaining the attention of everyone else in the room. The dragoness was too preoccupied with her counterpart to notice though. "I do not want to get sick, thank you very much!"

"One kiss won't hurt!" Spyro argued. "C'mere!"

He stretched out his paws in attempt to bring her close. Cynder countered by placing her own paws on his shoulders and pushed away. In his weakened state, Spyro could not wrestle against her superior strength. Soon, the pair ended up on the floor with Cynder on top of the purple dragon, pinning him against the stone tiles.

"Miss Cynder, Master Spyro? Master Gilius is ready for you."

Cynder looked up. All around her were either strange looks or poorly hidden smirks. She felt a flush of embarrassment as she realized that they were still in public. The dragoness quickly leapt off her companion and pulled him up roughly. "Come on," she muttered. "Let's go, you big purple idiot."

Spyro only sported a large grin as they walked through a door into a smaller room. A counter ran across two of the four walls of the room, medical tools and materials arranged neatly across its surface. A set of cabinets rested above the counter. On another side of the room were a set of mats, all of different sizes. A mat large enough for a dragon was dragged out. In the middle of the room was a lone table carrying frequently used tools. Next to the table was a stool supporting a short mole.

Gilius wore tiny glasses perched upon his nose. A pair of white gloves covered his paws and a white coat covered his short fur. Upon seeing the two dragons enter the room, the mole hopped off his seat and spread his small arms out in a welcoming manner. "Now what do I owe the pleasure of seeing the two heroes of Warfang here?"

"My partner, here," Cynder said, gesturing to Spyro, "managed to get sick. We were hoping there was something you could do to cure him."

The mole stretched out a paw towards the sick dragon. "Well let's see it. Come here." Gilius paced around Spyro, studying him as he went. After two rotations, the mole stopped in front of the drake. "It looks like you have a cold, but I want to see if there's anything else going on. Open up that mouth of yours."

Spyro looked at Cynder hesitantly before obeying. The mole dragged the stool over and stood up on it. He grabbed either side of the purple dragon's jaw and peered into his mouth, unfazed by Spyro's many sharp teeth. Barely a second had passed before the mole pulled away suddenly and started coughing.

"Hoo!" he shouted. "Your breath smells absolutely terrible! You really are sick!"

A tinge of red appeared on Spyro's cheeks. Cynder managed to suppress a giggle. "Now that you mention it," the dragoness said, "that's what his breath normally smells like."

Spyro balked at her, the redness in his cheeks becoming more rosy. "How come you never mentioned that before?" he asked indignantly.

Cynder shrugged. "I guess I got used to it," she said cheekily. She turned to the mole. "So it's just a cold then?"

The mole nodded and stepped down from the stool. "That's what it looks like. It'll take a few days for him to recover, but he'll be fine."

A sniffle from Spyro caused both Gilius and Cynder to look at him. "Is there anything that you can do about it?" he asked.

Gilius rubbed his chin thoughtfully before shaking his head. "Not particularly. You just need to fight off this one on your own," he replied, resulting in a groan from Spyro. Cynder looked at the mole with pleading eyes, silently asking if there was anything else they could do. Despite all the teasing she had done at Spyro's expense, she still cared. Gilius sighed. "Though I suppose you could ask the moles for some garlic soup."

"Garlic soup?" Spyro repeated, a cringe forming on his muzzle.

"It's an old remedy that others have found helpful. I personally don't believe in it, but it could help with your cold. Maybe shave a day or two off you being sick. Other than that, there isn't much you can do about it. Coincidentally, how did you get sick anyways?"

Spyro rubbed his neck in embarrassment before relaying the details of the cause of his sickness, earning him a scolding from the physician and a grin from his black companion. The two dragons thanked him for his service before leaving the infirmary and continuing down the stone path to the Great Halls.

As they walked down the street, Cynder noticed that they were walking by their place of residence. An idea formed in her mind. She stopped in the middle of the street, prompting Spyro to as well.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She pointed to the temple. "How about you go back to your room and I'll bring you the soup," she said.

Spyro looked at her quizzically. "I thought we were going to the Great Halls together."

"I thought so too until I remembered that you're sick and there are going to be a lot of other people there eating their meals. I don't think they would appreciate someone sneezing all over their food even if you are the legendary purple dragon."

Seeing the truth in her words, Spyro nodded without contest. He reluctantly parted from her side and made his way to the steps. "Just don't be so long, okay?"

"I'll be quick," she reassured him. "I won't let you suffer too much."

Spyro frowned. "That makes me feel so much better."

"And you'll feel even better once you have your soup!" she quipped, causing the drake to stick out his tongue out in disgust.

"Gee, I can't wait," he said dryly.

Cynder chuckled to herself as she continued to the Great Halls. On her way, she passed by those of various species ranging from the smallest moles to some of the largest dragons she had seen. Several people waved at her as she walked by and she returned their gestures. Others simply ignored her and went about their own business. Within minutes, the dragoness arrived at the Great Halls.

As she walked up the steps, the smell of freshly cooked food drifted down to her muzzle. She couldn't help but salivate at the delicious aromas. Maybe she would get something small for herself as well. Cynder made her way up to front and approached a mole working in the kitchens.

The mole wore an apron fit for her size and a large chef's hat covered her ears. "Miss Cynder!" she greeted. "How can I help you?"

"Hello, Adia. Can I have a serving of garlic soup?"

Adia blinked and looked at the dragoness oddly. "We don't normally serve garlic soup…"

"It's for Spyro," Cynder explained. "He's got a cold and the healer said that it might help."

"Ah," she said in understanding. "Alright then! Is there anything else you would like?"

Cynder licked her lips slowly before shaking her head. She wouldn't be able to carry a piece of meat and the soup. And if she stopped to eat before leaving, the soup would get cold. She could eat later. Spyro needed his soup as soon as possible "No, that'll be all," she said reluctantly.

The mole bobbed her head before scampering off to the kitchens. Cynder stood there patiently and soon Adia returned with the soup inside a container with a long handle attached to it. Cynder thanked the chef before grabbing the handle in her jaws. Once outside, the dragoness tested the container to see if it would easily spill. Satisfied that it wouldn't, she leapt off from the ground and took to the air.

Cynder arrived at the temple much sooner than if she had walked and silently praised the moles for coming up with something so convenient for dragons to use. She quickly walked up the steps and into the building. She turned down the halls and found herself in front of Spyro's room.

She tapped on the door three times with her tail, each time in a different manner. This was her and Spyro's way of alerting the other of who was at the door. It was quick and easy to recognize and made a neat little tune. The dragoness pushed the door open and with teeth still clenched around the container's handle said, "Ir'm heeree."

Cynder was welcomed by another sneeze. Rolling her eyes, she padded up her companion who was now resting on a large cushion and placed the soup in front of him.

"Thanks," he said sniffling.

Spyro opened the container and the smell of garlic filled the room, causing Cynder's face to scrunch up at the scent. The purple dragon looked down reluctantly at the concoction before looking up at Cynder with eyes that asked if he could skip drinking the soup. In response, Cynder only gave him a pointed stare. Spyro sighed before dipping his tongue into the soup experimentally.

His tongue immediately retracted as he made a disgusted face. "Bleh!" he exclaimed. "Do I really have to drink this stuff?"

Cynder nodded. "Yes, the doctor said so. You aren't going to get better any faster by just sitting there."

The drake stared at the soup for another moment before lifting the container up to his lips and drank deeply. The only sound in the room was the male's noisy gulping. After the last dredges of the drink disappeared into Spyro's maw, he quickly slammed the now empty container onto the floor and broke into a fit of coughs. Cynder rushed to his side, placing a gentle wing on his back in attempt to comfort him.

"Are you okay?"

He coughed once more before responding. "Yeah, the soup is just a little…strong."

"Well just a few more days of the stuff and you'll be fine," Cynder said with a smirk.

Spyro groaned and fell back into his cushion. "Don't remind me," he grumbled.

Cynder pulled up a spare cushion and set it a fair distance away from the male. In the silence that had grown between them, she could hear his slow, rhythmic breathing. Another moment passed before one of them spoke. It was Spyro.

"Hey," he called out. "Thanks for taking care of me. I know how I was joking back at the infirmary, but I really do appreciate all this."

A small smile formed on Cynder's lips. "I know. Do you want me to let you get some sleep?"

"That'd be great…" Spyro replied tiredly.

Nodding once, Cynder got up and walked to the door. She gave one last glance at her partner before exiting and leaving the purple dragon to fight off the sickness.

Spyro walked through the halls slowly, trying to minimize how much the container he held swung. The wooden handle attached to it made carrying the garlic soup held within infinitely easier. The smell wafted out of the box and into his nose, causing his face to scrunch up in disgust. He had hoped he would never have to smell its stench ever again—or at the very least, not quite so soon.

The purple dragon turned a corner and soon found himself standing before a wooden door. He tapped on it with his tail three times in a pattern before he let himself in. Immediately, his entrance was met with a groan.

"I hate you."

Spyro chuckled and shut the door behind him. He walked up to an occupied cushion and set the soup down. "You mean after all the soup I've been getting you these past few days, you hate me? Oh, Cyn, I'm hurt!" he said in a light tone.

Cynder let out a rough cough before getting up and grabbing the soup. She opened the container and wrinkled her nose at its smell. "I wouldn't even need this soup if it weren't for you," she replied nastily. She sighed once before bringing the drink to her lips.

Spyro couldn't help but smirk as he watched the dragoness's reaction to the soup. She shuddered as she drank and paused occasionally to cough. After days of being teased by the dragoness, it was finally his turn. "And who was it that said that 'one little kiss wouldn't hurt?'"

The dragoness lowered the soup from her maw and glared at him. "You say anything more and you'll be wearing this soup."

"Alright, alright, I'll stop," Spyro said, relenting. Cynder shook her head at him, obviously annoyed. He shot her a sly glance out of the corner of his eye. "It was a very nice kiss, though."

Outside in the halls, a mole walked by minding his own business. A shout followed by a loud splash startled him, causing the mole to pause. He looked around for a moment to identify the source of the oddity, but discovered nothing. Shrugging, the mole carried on, ignorant of what was going on behind Cynder's door.

This chapter was a little more fun than the others I've written so far and will likely be more fun that the others I have planned for the future. Originally, I had intended for this chapter to be about a complete different idea. Unfortunately for that chapter, I ran into a little trouble and ended up starting this one instead. I do like how this turned out for the most part.

I am unsure as to when the next chapter for this story will come up. I have tests coming up for different classes and then finals a couple weeks after. It probably won't be a full month before I update this story again (when finals have ended) and I will likely get in another update within the next two weeks, but you should not expect anything.

Thanks for reading and thanks to those of you who opt to review.