Sick!Reader x France

Sick!Reader x France

You coughed slightly and then groaned loudly. You were sick, and it was getting very, very annoying. You were also pretty sure Francis heard you, because a light clattering sound came from his bedroom.

Silently, you cursed your ailment as he tumbled into the livingroom, declaring, "I'm here, mon amour! What happened?"

He dashed over to the couch and grabbed you by your face, his big blue eyes filled with utter concern and fear. Francis slapped his head against your forehead, not in the gentlest way, but not meaning any harm. He stood rigidly still for a moment and then cried, "Mon petite amie, you are burning up! We must bring you to zhe 'ospital!"

You reached up from beneath your blanket and seized his hand, surprising him. You then enveloped his soft hand with yours, smiling softly. "Francis," you murmured, "I am fine. Stop acting like this, I'm not gonna die."

Francis pouted heavily. "But what if you do, and zhen zhat will be all my fault! What would I do, if I lost my beautiful flower?"

He moved his free hand up to your face while speaking, cupping your slightly pink cheek in the palm. As he said 'flower', his face moved in, closer to yours. However, you had no intention of allowing the thickhead ot get himself sick, so you shoved your hand up and into his face, keeping him away.

The big baby immediately let out a pitiful whine and then mumbled through his smushed face, "Bu' I wan' 'oo kish 'oo..."

"You'll get sick, el stupido," you said sternly, but with fondness in your voice.

Francis leaned his head over to the side so he could peer at you with one eyebrow raised. "Zhat is not even French, you imbecile!"

You reached up with both hands and cupped his face in them. Then, you pulled his face down so you could plant a light kiss on his forehead. You said to him softly, your lips still close to his forehead, "I know it isn't, you dummy. But stop acting so spazzy, I promise, I'm gonna be fine. If anything, it's a cold."

Francis didn't look convinced when he lifted his head to stare at you. However, he let up after giving a quick kiss on the cheek. He left his face against yours and whispered in a tone that was a bit flirty, "Very well, mon fleur, but zhis isn't over, ohoho, not at all.. but we shall finish it when you 'ave zhe strength to."

You giggle a little and then whisper back with a bit more flirtation than he, "Oh, sure. You won't even be able to make it a minute into that conversation with me."

Francis chuckled. "Oui, of course. After all, I would 'ave to give up for you, since you are so frail."

"For now, you flower-picking blondie," you replied.

"You silly little kitten."

"Okay, let's be done. I'm tired, now shoo! Go work on your song or poem or whatever."

You pushed him away from you playfully. He obeyed, bowing majestically to you, causing you to laugh. Francis then danced away, blowing a kiss to you lovingly.

You smiled as he attempted fruitlessly to ceremoniously exit with a bow and an epic slide back into his bedroom. He ended up smacking his rear into the door frame, then he spun around in shock and hit the side of his face against the wall. Francis yelped in shock and stumbled into his room instead.

"I love you, sweetie," you called. "There's an ice pack in the freezer if you need it."

"You are a very difficult wife, amour!'

"Thank you, darling~!"