A/N: In which Jellal is fed soup.
"Drink the soup," she murmured sternly, leaning over the ultramarine. He sighed through his nose, glancing up at the woman with pleading eyes. She glared down at him and sat down on his lap, straddling him and holding the spoon up to his lips.
"Erza, is this really necessary?" He mumbled, gripping her hips with his hands. Closing his eyes, he laid his head down on her shoulder with an air of tiredness. The cold was eating away at his energy reserves; the last thing he wanted was to argue with the stubborn redhead.
"It'll help, Jellal!" His wife insisted, squirming until he lazily brought his head back up. He opened his mouth to protest, and she shoved the spoon in with a sickly-sweet smile. He choked, body twitching violently as the lukewarm liquid flowed down his throat.
"You big baby," she teased with a smile, before leaning down and pressing a kiss to his mouth.
Needless to say, Erza came down with a harsh cold the next day. Not that she regretted it, though.