quietmounds | (no subject)

(no subject)

WHAT what you want
WHERE where you want
WHEN Day ""135""

[The rain has cleared, but it appears to have left some people with a case of the sniffles! The magic sniffles. Even if you've never been sick a day in your life, you might not find yourself immune. Then again, maybe you have a terrible immune system and you're fine. I'm not the magic sniffles police.

Symptoms May Include:

- runny nose
- sore throat
- fever
- thinking you're going to cough or sneeze but actually what comes out is A BURST OF THE TRUTH
- waking up in someone else's bed
- joint aches

At least the sketchy pop-up pharmacy at the mall has a special on tissues and nyquil?]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Misery does love company.

[he seems very cheered by her presence. it's almost cute.]

Is that why you're so cuddly?

No. I'm just needy.

[a matter-of-factly.]

[ha. flatly]

Yeah, I noticed. You're real high maintenance.

I was spoiled as a child.

You were a prince.

That's one reason for it.

And your mother adores you?

You would think that would make me less attached.

I don't see why. You adore your mother too.

I meant it would make sense for me to be less desperate for attention elsewhere.

Don't see why. Like you said. Spoiled.

[peering up at her, content despite the sick-haze as he nestles against her side.]

Hey, your words.

[...pets]

I wasn't complaining.

[lets his eyes slide shut? naptime?? naptime.]

[sleep is the real traditional cure all]

[yes let's say they wake up later and this one is at least much less ill, carefully untangling himself and sitting up]

[Bucky groans and rolls over. either she's still ill, or she's just not a fan of waking up when she's all cozy]

Sorry.

[petting her arm like there, there, before tucking her back in and going to have a nice refreshing shower]

No... sorry. [starting to sit up, like she should go, before allowing herself to be tucked back in.

more sleep yes]

[that's cute. he goes to clean off, then quietly starts making some sort of chicken soup concoction with lemon in it]

[by the time he comes back, Bucky has created a blanket nest in T'Challa's bed, just her nose and one foot sticking out.]

[he's got some sort of serving tray which he sets down on the nightstand before gently shaking her awake]

Come on.

Hm...? [emerging from her cocoon]

Did you cook?

Yes. A traditional American cure, with a twist.