Tubbo had probably come in because he heard Ranboo retching again.
Familiar hands pulled back long strands of black and white hair that had fallen out of his ponytail and he felt his husband's weight on the bed behind him, but couldn't look up at him or speak until he was sure there wasn't any more vomit.
"Thank you," Ranboo finally croaked, raising their woozy head to look Tubbo in the eyes.
"You alright?" Tubbo asked, caringly taking out Ranboo's hairtie and redoing it. "You done?"
"Yeah," They said, though they still had to spit a mouthful of leftover bile into the bucket Tubbo had given him.
"Alright," Tubbo sighed, getting up to take the dirty bucket, "I'll get rid of this, you clean yourself up and have some water." He clearly wasn't thrilled at the prospect, but had done a good job so far keeping his irritability away from his sick husband. Ranboo had been bedridden since yesterday and had assured Tubbo they'd do fine a few days without the income from his at-home job while he got better, but also knew that Tubbo hadn't been well off with money before getting married and hard work was somewhere in his bones, so he'd been working more and harder than usual. The stress had been hard on him and hovering around Ranboo, cooking all his meals and cleaning up after him probably hadn't helped.
Ranboo thanked him again and emptied the water cup he'd left, feeling bad again that he'd have to refill it. The horned humanoid came back with a clean bucket, and out and back again with a full cup, then sat next to Ranboo in their bed with his hand on their back.
"You're the best," Ranboo said thankfully. At the very least throwing up helped get it all literally out of his system and made him feel better for a time, so he could sit up in the bed now instead of burying himself in blankets looking miserable.
"I'm your husband," Tubbo said sensibly. "And you're sick and can't get out of bed, so it's my job to take care of you." he wrapped his strong arms around their middle and rested his head on their shoulder, rocking them back and forth.
"You should take a break, though," they insisted, "you've been doing an awful lot for me."
"Yeah," he admitted. "I will, but it's nice to spend a little time with you where I'm not cleaning up your vomit."
"Sorry," Ranboo couldn't resist saying.
"You're fine," his husband said, with a bit of affectionate exasperation for Ranboo's apologetic nature. He stood up, ruffling the hair between their horns roughly. "Alright, I promise I will take a break later, but I need to make dinner. Do you think you'll be able to hold anything down?"
"I'd like to try," he answered. "The soup went alright last night."
"You want me to do that again?" Tubbo asked sweetly.
"Yes, please," said Ranboo, sending a loving smile his way.
"Alright. I'll bring it to you in bed if you still feel too bad to get up at dinnertime."
…
By the time it was ready Ranboo was pretty sure he'd be able to eat his dinner without being sick again, and even managed to stumble out of bed to eat at the table with his husband, though they might have been falling asleep while doing it.
"You're sure you're alright?" Tubbo snapped him out of… something, he wasn't sure he'd been entirely conscious.
"Yeah," they said maybe too quickly, trying to keep their head up. "Are you?"
Looking at Tubbo they could see he was wearing thin. They'd made attempts to talk him out of his workaholic tendencies but it had never had any effect, and he'd get tired like this a lot and just try to hold himself together until he could isolate himself in their room to avoid snapping at anyone.
"I think so," he said, grinning awkwardly with all his teeth. "It's probably still not a good idea for us to sleep in the same bed, so if I'm on the couch again, that'll give me some time to myself."
"You really don't need to be doing all that extra work," Ranboo said, reaching for his hand on the table. Tubbo looked awkward again, as if he'd been caught, like he often did when his partner started to lecture him about giving himself more breaks.
Ranboo gave in to his fuzzy head before they could continue. "Ugh. Okay, I think I need to go back to bed." They stood up and picked up their bowl of soup so they could take it back to their bedroom. He secretly hoped that eating separately could give Tubbo some relief from everything as well, though dinner was one of the things they always tried to share with each other.
At first, Tubbo wasn't sure Ranboo was awake when he creaked the door open. They were curled up to look deceptively small, only his hair and horns poking out of the heavy blanket they'd usually share with him. But sure enough, the old hybrid raised his head, long ears twitching at the sound of Tubbo entering.
"Hey," he said softly, letting a natural smile show. "I didn't wake you up, did I?"
"No," Ranboo said sleepily. "Everything alright?"
"I just wanted to come say goodnight to you," — Tubbo sat down on the bed beside him — "since we didn't get to talk at dinner." Tubbo had gotten some time to unwind and was in a good enough mood to count on not making them feel worse. He dragged his fingers through their hair, multicoloured and smokey, the black parts diluted with age to more of a dark grey. Gods, he was still pretty.
"Night, Darlin'," he slurred, curling further into himself. Tubbo wondered if it was a trick of the light that he looked to be shivering. He moved his hand to their upper arm — they were shaking hard.
"Are you cold?" Tubbo asked him.
"You're not?"
Ranboo was cold-blooded and dealt with temperature differently, not doing well in chillier environments, but it was a hot night; Tubbo was in a tank top and still felt warm.
"Are you alright?" He lowered his voice.
"Your hands are warm." Ranboo didn't answer the question.
Tubbo was quiet for a bit, rubbing Ranboo's arm gently. "Do you want me to stay here?"
"I don' wwwant you to get sick." They were slurring their speech again. It was a good point, especially since he'd basically been running the household and getting what Ranboo had would make that a whole lot harder, but he was really getting worried about them. They hadn't been this bad this morning — throwing up everything he ate, but not shivering in 20-C weather, and at least capable of forming words normally.
"Alright, well, I can turn the heater on, but you really shouldn't feel cold. I don't want you to overheat."
"Mmmnngh." Ranboo didn't move as Tubbo got up. He turned the electric heater on anyway. It probably wasn't a good idea, but Ranboo was his soft spot, and he just looked so miserable. Besides, heat was a way to treat minor illnesses, wasn't it?
"Goodnight, Honey," Tubbo called quietly. Ranboo grunted again. Tubbo closed the door so Ranboo could have his sauna and put their empty soup bowl in the sink downstairs, before going back to the spot on the couch he'd set up. He pushed his fingers through his own hair, brunet and flecked with grey, probably more so after tonight. He'd figure something out for Ranboo tomorrow, and told himself if it got any worse he'd take them to the doctor.
He'd thought it would be impossible to get to sleep after all that, but he must have really been tired, because he drifted off almost instantly.
…
Usually, Ranboo would wake up first and make breakfast for the two of them, and Tubbo would get up a bit later, fix them both coffee and kiss him goodbye before going to work. Tubbo wasn't fit for any of this, and his darling husband looked like he was on the edge of falling asleep into his cereal bowl.
"You'll be okay?" he asked, putting a hand on Ranbo's shoulder. He hadn't quite had time to tell if they'd gotten worse, but he still looked tired and Tubbo could feel him shaking.
"I think so," the hybrid drawled.
"Alright. You can microwave the leftovers in the fridge for your lunch, I'll be back at the normal time." He kissed their forehead and held them close around their shoulders for a moment. "I'll see you soon, love you."
"I love you too," Ranboo croaked, pressing themself closer to him. Tubbo wondered if it was because his body heat helped. They didn't seem like they wanted him to go — there was a part of him that would rather stay here with them too, but he had work to do and between the stress of work and the stress of looking after Ranboo, he could still use some time without company and not cooped up indoors. He kissed them again and rested his cheek on their head before prying himself away.
…
Tubbo had kept his promise with Ranboo to overwork himself less, and actually did come home feeling lighter. Ranboo was asleep and looked peaceful enough despite still shaking. Tubbo had to clean up another bucketful of vomit — poor guy — and came back to their bedroom to a sitting-up and mostly conscious Ranboo.
He still didn't look well, and cuddled a bit closer to Tubbo than usual, as he had that morning. The tremors hadn't stopped.
"You seem happier," Ranboo remarked, folded over and sunken into bed so he could tuck his head under the shorter man's chin, carefully keeping his horns out of the way.
"Yeah, I've been going easier on myself," Tubbo said. He knew it was anything but a permanent fix, he was still a workaholic and it wasn't something he could help, but one day where he didn't come home tired out of his mind was something.
"Good," they murmured. They sounded happier too, even if it was just to be with Tubbo.
"How do you feel? You had a good sleep?"
"I've been sleeping most of the day," Ranboo laughed.
"Good," Tubbo echoed, "you need rest. Do you feel any better?"
"Not really," they mumbled after a few moments' hesitation. "I'm still really cold."
"Yeah, that's… worrying," he agreed.
"You're helping, though. You're warm."
Tubbo cupped Ranboo's face and rubbed his thumbs up and down their cheeks — they didn't feel cold, to the touch, but when Tubbo did that they emitted a deep rumbling purr and moved their own clawed hands to his.
"That help?"
"Yeah."