She violently coughed onto her sleeve; the cold season was coming and her immune system could not fight it off.

"(y/n), I think you should go home." Jean warned her once again, looking up from his work with a dismayed expression. "I can drive you there." he offered.

"No, no. I'm okay. I have classes to go to still. Plus, if you drove me home you would miss your next class." she replied, not looking up from her work.

He heavily sighed and put a hand to her forehead, she didn't fight him off, knowing that if she did, he would still win anyway. "Shit, (y/n). You have to go home, you're burning." he closed his book. "I don't care. I'm going to take you home."

Jean started packing his bag along with her own.

"Stop, Jean. I can still go to class." she held onto his arm, stopping him from going further.

"Stop being so stubborn, (y/n) you're sick." he moved his arm away from her and continued packing his bag.

"No, really... I'm... fine..." she fainted and fell onto him.

She woke up in her bedroom to the smell of food eminating from her kitchen. It felt like a dream of when her mom would make her food when she was sick, and the smell of her infamous chicken noodle soup made its way to her room.

Sick. She felt her forehead, where a cold cloth was placed. Jean was right. She was burning, but didn't listen.

She looked around from her bed and saw her bag on the floor, her jacket on her computer chair, and her shoes placed hurriedly on the side of her bed.

She raised an eyebrow, How did I get here? She thought to herself as she let out an unpleasant sneeze. She didn't remember anything. All she could remember was studying in the library with Jean.

"Bless you." A voice came through the door.

She saw Jean walking in with a tray, taking small steps, hoping not to spill the soup.

"Thanks." She replied, sitting up from her bed.

"I told you that you were sick and you didn't listen, (y/n)." he lectured, setting the tray down on a nearby table.

"I'm sorry. It's just... it's school, and I thought that I could still go through with my next lecture. I always go to classes when I have a small cold, I didn't think I would be this sick." she wrapped her blanket around her, "What happened anyway?"

He picked up the bowl of soup and sat next to her, "You fainted on me, while you were stopping me from taking you home, and I had to carry you all the way to my car," he lightly blushed, looking at the wall, "And I had to look through your bag for your house keys. I'll have you know this delivery service comes with a cost."

She panicked, if he looked through her bag, there might have been a possible chance that he saw all the small drawings and notes of her and him, hearts and all. Her ears started burning, and pulled the blanket up to her chin.

"Did... you see anything?" she sniffed.

He took a spoonful of the soup and blew on it, responding with an "m-mm." he shook his head. "Now eat." he put the spoon closer to her mouth and fed her.

"I can feed myself, Jean." she tried to take the spoon from his hands, and he carefully pulled back before she could.

"No, stop," he put a hand infront of her, "I'm going to feed you." he blew on the soup again and put the spoon infront of her, waiting for her to eat it.

She pouted. She didn't want to be fed like a child, plus it was awkward for her to be fed by Jean.

"Come on, (y/n)." he rested the spoon infront of her mouth. "If you eat this, I'll promise that I'll buy you your favourite lunch." he furrowed his eyebrows, determined to convince her.

Her eyes lit up as she succumbed to him. She ate the soup.

He smiled as she ate the food he made. He learned it from his mom who took good care of him throughout his life.

After he fed her, he gave her medicine and let her lay to rest.

He sat on her bed for a while, watching her as she fell into a quiet and peaceful slumber, fighting the urge to stroke her hair- just in case it woke her.

He went out into the kitchen and put the tray away, washing the dishes he used to make her food.

After he was finished, he made his way back into her room where he stayed and waited for her to wake up.

He recalled what she was worrying about earlier; about how there was something in her bag she didn't want him to see. For a while he contemplated whether he should look through it or not. He went as far as to going through her bag, but he didn't want to be nosy. If it was one thing she usually got mad at Jean about, it was because he was often too nosy about everything.

He sat right by her on her bed, and longingly looked at her face. He couldn't resist it anymore-with that he carefully caressed her cheek with his thumb and smiled. His thumb made its way over to her lips, and quickly drew back in the hopes of not disturbing her.

She shuffled in her bed, as he sat in anticipation. She pulled her blankets closer to her body and changed into a fetal position. Her breaths shaking and her feverish body was shivering.

"(y/n)?" he called out to her, "(y/n), are you cold?" he started rubbing her arms, trying to create heat through friction.

She nodded and grabbed him closer by his shirt, making him lean over her.

He blushed, and positioned himself, so that he laid beside her and wrapped himself around her.

"Shh..." he said as he continued to rub her arms.

She stopped shivering, and fell back asleep again in mere minutes. His face was inches away from hers- despite the fact that she was sick, he wanted to kiss her.

"Did you look through my bag?" she suddenly asked, slurring her words.

He became startled, the sudden feeling of worry made his face turn warm- she probably knew he was creepily staring at her.

"What? No." he responded and sighed, "Yeah. I did. But I stopped myself. I remembered you hated 'nosy Jean'."

"I heard you rummaging through my bag. I tried to sleep but I couldn't because I couldn't trust you with my notes lying around everywhere." she said monotonously with her eyes still closed, "And you touched my face... and my mouth."

His face turned red in embarassment and sat up.

"Do you like me?" she asked bluntly.

"Y-yeah, how can I not? We've been friends-"

"I like you, Jean. I'm sick. Take care of me please." she opened her eyes and grabbed him by the arm turned to face the other way, wrapping them around her again.

He sat in silence for a while, thinking of what to respond. Was it the fever talking?

"I like you too." He finally answered, "I like you a lot, actually. Like, not the friend kind of like."

She didn't respond.

He tapped her but she still didn't budge. He looked over her shoulder and she was fast asleep.

He grunted in slight frustration and tried to leave the bed, carefully slipping his arm out of her grasp. But before he could, she held on tighter and pulled him.

"No," she mumbled suddenly, catchin him in surprise. She was still awake, and it was certain that she heard his confession. "I'm still cold."

(A/N) Woo
okay, hi friend. Sorry for my lack of activity, but I've been making stuff, and yeah. Nonetheless, I was still able to come up with this rather short story. I'm not really sure how to feel about it, but, yeah. Oh yeah, it's another Jean x Reader story hehe. Sorry if it sucks I find myself not having the time to think of a good plot sometimes.
I have no requests at the moment.
Dark Shines will be updated this week please do be patient ;-;
Thank you for reading, have a great day!