You and Tom were cooking dinner at your apartment when you suddenly felt ill. "Tom" you whine, holding your stomach. His ears immediately perked up as he turns his attention to you. He noticed you don't look so well and instantly attempts to comfort you. "Hey, hey.. what's wrong?" he says, putting an arm around you. "I don't feel so well" you groan.
"How about you go lay down?" he asks. You nod and Tom slowly helps you into the bedroom. He lies you down on the bed and sits beside you while gently stroking his fingers through your hair."Schatz i'm going to run and get you some painkillers from the cabinet ok" he whispers. You nod before rolling over, trying to find a position that doesn't press on your stomach.
In the meantime, Tom gets up and searches through the kitchen trying to find you some medicine. Once he finds the right ones, he fills you a glass of water to chase it down.
When he re-enters the room, he looks over at your pale complexion and sighs. He hates seeing you like this, so weak and motionless.
He sits on the bed behind you and slowly rubs your shoulder, motioning for you to sit up. "Take these" he says, handing you two pills, "they should help with the pain". You quickly pop them in your mouth and take a mouthful of the water. As you do,Tom softly grips your palms, waiting for you to adjust.
"Poor baby" he says, "do you think you'll still be able to eat dinner?". You had completely forgotten about it and feel guilty for making him wait. "I'm sorry Tom. You're probably so hungry" you sigh. "Hey, don't be silly. It's not your fault" he smiles,"how about I use those vegetables I chopped to make us some soup instead?". Your face lights up at his suggestion, causing him to smile. "Ok baby, I'll be back in about 20 minutes. Just call out if you need me".
He always knew just what to do when you were sick, it was one of the many things you admired about him.
After almost 20 minutes of waiting, the door finally widened, revealing Tom with a hot bowl of soup. "Here baby, drink this" he smiles, handing you the bowl. You accept and gradually take a sip of the soup. "How is it?" he asks. "It's delicious, it's exactly what I needed" you respond. He chuckles lowly at your enthusiasm, "good girl, keep drinking".
As you finish off the plate, Tom continuously strokes your back, your thighs and your cheeks. He loves the feeling of your skin on his. He tucks your hair behind your ears and smiles. He can't help but admire your beauty, even while sick.
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