Leverage x Reader Stories

(10) Nate x Sick!Reader ~ Bargaining

A/N: A small detail in this story was inspired by my grandpa, who blows on a cup of hot liquid to cool it down before handing it to my grandma. I just felt like letting you guys know.
Also, the reader's reaction to a certain food in this story is based on the initial (dramatic) reaction a friend of mine had when she saw me eating said food. :P Oh, the joys of being Chinese.
Word count: 1439 (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *ヽ(◕ヮ◕ヽ)

Hardison and Parker hide in their safe haven, known as the kitchen, while watching Eliot and Nate prepare a meal and drink. Despite their boredom, they made the decision to stay earlier in the morning as soon as they saw the pale, sickly face of their second grifter. Eliot, who prepared a homemade broth for his friend, sets a bowl on the countertop and asks Hardison that carry it over to (Y/n).

"I am not going anywhere near her," the hacker declares loudly, crossing his arms with a frown.

"Hey! I'm not that sick," a hoarse shout defends from the couch.

"Woman, you can barely talk, get up to do your daily routine, and you filled the trash can with all your nasty germs!"

"Cut it out, you two," scolds Nate. He carefully maneuvers towards his fiancée with a cup of hot tea in his hand. As soon as the beverage reaches (Y/n)'s field of vision, the woman's hands poke out of her blanket tent and make a grabbing motion. "Hold on." Blowing on the liquid's surface, Nate is considerate of (Y/n)'s throat and nose's condition. The man stirs the tea with a spoon and blows several times more, going so far as to take a sip to sample its temperature, before gently placing the cup in her hands.

"What is it?"

"Tea."

"What kind?"

"Just drink it. It's good for you."

"I don't wanna," (Y/n) whines childishly, jutting out her lower lip as she pouts. "It looks funny."

"(Y/n)," Nate sighs, brainstorming for a reasonable bribe to tell. Remembering about the discussion that took several weeks ago, he is quick to address the issue. "You need to recover quickly if you don't want to miss out on our own wedding. We can't have the bride looking like she just rose from the grave."

Eyes widening in realization, the grifter chugs her tea within the blink of an eye, ignoring the bitter aftertaste. Nate worriedly, yet gingerly, grabs the cup and pulls it away from her mouth, setting the nearly empty cup onto the far end of the coffee table.

"Don't do that," Nate scolds, shaking (Y/n) by the shoulders. "You could've choked!"

"But I didn't," (Y/n) croaks out smugly in retaliation, a pained cough following soon after.

Sighing exasperation, the man wanders around the kitchen counter to grab himself a drink. The cold alcohol runs down his throat and quenches his thirst. Another sigh, this one of relief, is interrupted by a whine. Looking over at (Y/n), Nate raises an eyebrow.

"Gimme!" Hands reach out in a grabbing motion, gesturing towards the enticing drink. Despite her sore throat and congested sinuses, (Y/n) finds herself suddenly craving the delectable taste of the alcohol. "Naaatteeeeeeeee," she whines, still trying to grab the drink from her seat on the couch.

"No," Nate argues with a frown etched on his face, "you're sick. Drinking this will make things worse." Normally, the mastermind has trouble with denying his fiancée's requests and pleas, but this time, he must be firm and stand by his statement. "I will not be kissing you on our wedding day if you're still ill."