Work Text:
Knock knock knock.
At the sound of knocking, Vil glances over the screen of the laptop that lies open in his lap. He's seated in bed, in a comfortable position that took at least 10 minutes to find when he tried to settle down.
There's a mount of extra pillows behind his back for support, a blanket draped over himself like some kind of hooded cloak, and easy access to multiple bottles of water so he won't have to get up for a refill.
He's been feeling gross and sniffly all day and would prefer to remain in this cocoon of comfort he has created. The things he’s been working on haven’t exactly been going smoothly either. He doesn’t think he can afford a lot of distractions. (Not that what he was working on was due soon, he had a week, but he’d rather have all his to-dos scrapped as soon as possible.)
So Vil directs his attention back to his work, despite his head feeling like a scrambled egg, and decides to ignore whoever is at the door.
If it was important they'd find Rook and he’d relay anything Vil needed to know about.
Knock knock knock.
…
Knock knock knock knock.
It's getting faster. And not helping his headache. An annoyed huff of air blows through his nose. Vil readies to call out for whoever stands at the door to leave but stops when the door handle gets pushed down and the door shakes around a bit, by whoever is outside attempting to force it open. Vil locked his door early today, being prepared he could fall asleep unprepared.
"What do you think you're doing?!"
The door stops jiggling after Vil yells. He instantly regrets doing so, getting a coughing fit because of it.
"Vil?” The muffled voice from the other side is instantly recognizable as Silver. A concerned-sounding Silver. “Are you alright?! Can you let me in?"
Vil doesn’t respond for a few seconds, blinking, needing some more time to register with his brain fogged head. Silver at his door.
Wait. Silver was at the door?
Vil makes a small circle gesture with his pointer finger, then swiftly traces the shape of a keyhole within the circular glyph until it glows a soft purple. The same symbol appears on his own door, shattering without a sound as it gets disspelled. The doorlock makes a click right after.
Silver wastes no time opening the door, looking around when there’s no Vil to greet him behind said door. When he sees them sitting in bed and their eyes meet, Vil gives him a puzzled look. He doesn't have to pose the question around for Silver to respond.
"Lord Malleus asked me if I knew why you seemed troubled today. And I didn't know. I got worried. I texted you."
Vil perks up even slightly, picking up his phone lying beside him. It does indeed have notifications on it. Looks like he hadn't thought about turning off mute before settling down.
It seems his text asking Vil if he was okay wasn't from more than 4 minutes ago, though.
"I'm just feeling a bit under the weather, that's all." Vil explains as he stifles a sniffle, patting some free space on the bed. "Sorry to worry you. It didn't seem like significant information you could do something with."
When Silver enters and closes the door behind him, Vil notices the sound of crinkling when they walk. It was out of view when they were at the door, but now he can see they’re holding a brown paper bag, likely from Sam’s shop.
They place the bag on the bed first before taking a seat near Vil. Their hand comes up, and Vil thinks it's to brush against his cheek or something akin to that kind of gesture but instead he presses the back of his hand against Vil's forehead. Vil must’ve pouted without his own knowledge, because Silver gives them an apologetic look in return.
"You're feverish. I have something for that."
"Silver. " Vil preemptively scolds, furrowing his eyebrows together, then glancing at the bag set in front of him that has yet to be explained. "Please tell me you didn't buy things for me."
Silver slow-blinks once. Then twice. He retreats his hand gently.
"Would you be upset if I did?" "Silver! "
"You always take such care when you make me those products… I don't know how to make medicine myself but I thought…" Silver starts to explain, but he trails off slightly, rubbing the back of their neck nervously.
Oh.
That’s… Sweet.
"W—Well-” Vil starts, having to collect himself. “I do appreciate the thought but… You already know I can take care of myself. I’m sure it’ll be over by tomorrow.” Vil lets out a relieved sigh. He brings up his own hand and traces a strand of hair behind their ear.
He didn’t mean to make them embarrassed or think he was in trouble for bringing things. "I’m happy to see you, but you really didn't have to bring me anything, honestly."
"But… I wanted to."
Great Seven dammit, that’s so cute.
Vil merely stares at them for a while, and they stare back, unsure. There’s nothing different about the way they look at him, Vil notes. He’s seen himself in a mirror. Stuffy nose, puffy eyes. He’s not quite at his peak at the moment. There’s no way Silver doesn’t notice. It’s more likely it doesn’t matter to them.
It’s refreshing.
“Alright then.” Vil mutters to himself. He closes his laptop shut and puts it aside so he can move somewhat more freely. He shifts the blanket that’s covering him like a hood to only lay over his shoulders.
His hair is probably messed up, but he does not have the physical spunk to find a mirror to check it with. Not that it’s a priority in front of Silver anyway.
“Let’s see what you brought me and my stuffy nose.”
Vil immediately spots the way Silver perks up ever so slightly when Vil does seem interested in what he brought —which is good, Silver looks about as guilt-ridden as a puppy would, and Vil can only handle so much of that—. But when Silver reaches his hand in the bag.. His hand doesn’t reach very far until he picks something up from the very top.
That bag is much fuller than Vil thought it was.
“Uh… Do you have a migraine?” “...No.” “Okay, then uhm..” He puts the small box aside and grabs another item, reading what that one is for. “How about nausea?” “...” “Okay, then how about uh… headaches and overall muscle pain?”
“I'm going to spare myself asking what else you have in there… But, that will help, thank you.” Vil gives them a thankful nod and Silver seems… somewhat proud of themselves, even if their face doesn't fully show it.
Silver's emotions are in the small changes of posture, it's very intriguing. He hands Vil the little cardboard box, then after giving it a second look-over —just to be sure he was allowed to take this—, Vil starts to open it up.
“You don’t happen to have a nose spray in your mystery bag of medicine do y— Oh.” Vil starts asking as a way to tease them a bit, but when Silver starts to grabble around in the bag and pulls out a nose spray, he goes quiet.
There’s a moment of silence between the two of them, during which Silver looks into his bag of purchased goods.
“I might have over-purchased a bit. I did not know what you had so I just bought all of it…”
“Maybe a little, yes.” Vil admits with a chuckle, one which seems to relieve Silver somewhat. "Nonetheless, I would give you a big kiss for your efforts if there was no high risk of giving you whatever’s plaguing me right now."
Silver nods, putting the nose spray in front of Vil so he has both hands free to start taking out more boxes that they probably won’t need for now. Extra vitamins, stomach aches, … Vil decides not to point out one of the boxes meant exclusively for beastmen medicine. Their heart’s in the right place.
He'll be certain to bring this up with Sam, though. Who knows how much of this was Silver picking things or him getting persuaded by Sam’s smooth tactics.
When about 7 boxes in total have been put aside, Silver seems to have found what he was looking for. A rather sizable cardboard cup with a lid on top. His careful way of handling it makes it plain it’s quite warm.
“Soup." He says before Vil can ask. "We had soup at Diasomnia with the main dinner, so I brought you some from what was left over. It’s a beef and barley soup. I hope that’s okay. Father always used to give me soup even when I got sick. He still does it now. I think it will be good for you."
Vil simply watches Silver explain and talk, setting the cup aside to search for his missing spoon somewhere in the bag. The crinkling kind of makes Vil twitch, his brain reacting undesirably to the sound.
Ugh, this headache is coming back worse…
"Vil, are you okay?" Silver notices the strain on their face, frowning. He found his spoon, but now his attention has returned to Vil in full.
Something about it still made Vil feel weird. He isn't a fan of anyone perceiving him when he's like this. If you’d ask anyone besides Rook if they’ve ever actually seen Vil sick, the answer would probably be no.
But Silver isn't just any other person.
"I'm fine." Vil responds rather quickly, but then contemplation takes over his face, and he shakes his head. "… No, I'm not okay, sorry."
Silver nods with understanding. He's aware it's a reflex. But it's Vil who has been teaching him about how important communication is, so he appreciates them correcting themselves even if they fell into a bad habit.
"I'm glad you're here and brought me soup but I am… So extremely exhausted. I should probably take a painkiller and try to sleep. I wanted to finish my work but I fear putting myself in front of a screen and into work mode is worsening my condition."
Silver nods again, and he starts packing up the boxes of medicine Vil won't be able to use in the bag.
"I don't want to make it sound like I'm trying to get you to leave.." Silver shakes his head, and assures them with a smile. "I know. I simply want to get this out of the way. Are you sure you don’t want to have at least some soup? It’s very warm. It will be good for you.”
“I’m not even sure if I’ll be able to finish it.” Vil admits, reaching over to give his laptop to Silver, who instantly understands the assignment to put it away somewhere more securely than lying on the bed Vil would sleep in. He places it on Vil’s desk next to the bed, and starts to do the same with some of the other items laying around on the sheets. Vil takes that time to slip one of the blister packs containing pills out of its box, popping one out of it before placing it on his tongue and taking a big sip of water to send it down.
“A little bit will be okay too.” Silver finishes and sits back down on the edge of his bed, picking up the cup from where he had set it down. He removes the lid, and there’s instantly a bit of steam escaping once he does so.
With the spoon, Silver starts to stir through the cup, and it smells absolutely divine.
Vil doesn’t think he’s ever had any of Diasomnia’s food. He doubts there’s much difference in the quality, but it has the weird “it comes from another place so it feels special”-effect. So now he’s gotten curious.
“Will you be able to eat by yourself?” “I’ll certainly give it a try.”
“Okay.” Vil readies his hands to take the cup, but instead of handing it to him, Silver stirs for a moment, leaves the spoon within the cup, then brings it up closer to their own face and starts blowing on it.
He actually starts blowing on the hot soup. Meant for another adult man.
Vil knows he might be a little high maintenance, but didn’t think he was “blow on my hot meals for me”-high maintenance.
A small stifled chuckle escapes through his nose, which makes Silver glance up while still blowing on it, questioningly raising both eyebrows.
"You’re blowing on my soup."
"It's important to do so. You could burn yourself."
Seven bless Lilia. Vil doesn't know how someone like them can raise a kid to turn out like this, but whatever he did it worked. Vil feels almost certain Silver's way of caring for someone is copying his dad. It's sweet.
Lilia would probably get a kick out of it when Vil tells him later.
Vil decides not to interrupt them again, just watches in a mixture of disbelief and adoration. After Silver finds it has cooled down to a reasonable temperature he takes a sip to check, and then nods to himself, happy with the result.
“Okay, this should be safe.” Vil merely hums in affirmation, holding out his hands again. Silver gently hands over the cup, and now Vil can finally smell it from up close. He probably wouldn’t pick this kind of soup for himself, and it isn’t something that would be served in Pomefiore either.
Vil isn’t sure if all of his students would enjoy this kind of food. He certainly does. But he’s all for trying everything and enjoying the tastes of different places. Having to travel the world for various reasons opens up your palette quite a bit.
He takes a big sip, and seven does it soothe his throat quite a bit. Vil lets out a happy sigh upon swallowing his first sip. The swallowing is harder than he thought it would be, looks like his body doesn’t quite agree with eating too much. Maybe just a couple more sips.
When taking his next sip, he locks eyes with Silver, who is intently watching him drink the soup.
“Do you like it?” Vil takes one more big sip, swallowing before he nods and brings it down to his lap, aimlessly stirring the spoon around within the liquid. “It’s lovely. But I’m uncertain if I can drink much more of it, sorry.”
“That’s alright. Don’t force yourself, please.”
“Still, thank you. Can you place it in the mini fridge? I’ll try and finish it later.” Silver takes the soup cup from Vil, grabbing a tissue from the box on their bed to wipe off the spoon. He gets up to retrieve the lid, snapping it back onto the cup.
Vil doesn’t really use the cooler in his room for drink or food purposes, often they’re to keep products or things he needs for potions. He can make an exception, of course. For soup and for Silver.
Once at the small fridge he squats in front of it before opening it, looking for a spot to put it in. He's placed it down but lingers a little.
"See something interesting?" He jolts when asked, as if he got caught doing something he wasn't supposed to. He glances over his shoulder and then back to the contents of the small fridge.
"I was curious. Is it schoolwork or things you have been working on?"
"Both, really." Vil starts to move the cushions he was using to sit up, needing them to be angled a little lower if he was to be able to sleep comfortably. "Mostly personal. Any schoolwork is allowed to be kept in our dorm lab if appropriately labeled, but I don't want anyone to have easy access to these. I'd rather not have a crisis on my hands."
"A crisis?" "There are some with… peculiar effects. And some new poisons, of course."
Silver has learned by now that Vil loves his potion and poison making. For good reason, they're quite brilliant at what they do.
Silver decides to carefully close it. Best not to mess around with those. He can ask about them more later, Vil deserves his sleep first. They’re quite passionate about potionology once asked, it’s best to not bring it up lest they keep talking instead of resting.
“Shall I tuck you in?"
Vil stops rearranging his pillows and blankets. His head turns towards Silver with an expression that would make him a reaction image on the Internet if it was recorded.
"... Tuck me in? "
"Yes."
Out of this whole school, only Silver can say something like that completely unironically.
"I don't think I've been tucked in bed since I was below the age of 7." Vil sinks into his mattress when he's finished arranging, shimmying to get himself somewhat comfortable already.
With his legs having been under it for a long while already, it's already relatively warm. Or he's getting a fever. That's fine, though. Sweating will help get rid of the sickness faster. He was planning to take a nice long bath the following morning anyway.
"Oh."
"Well don't look so droopy now. I didn't say no, you’ve made me curious.”
Vil reinforces his statement by letting himself fall back into his pillows and pulling up the blanket, patting the bad. “Come on, chop-chop. My recovery sleep will only wait so long.” Somehow that gets Silver to chuckle too.
“I’m coming.”
Silver once more finds his spot seated on the bed, but this time he starts taking off his shoes, leaving them beside the bed so he lay one of his legs folded onto the bed. It gives him a better angle to face Vil fully.
The two of them just look at eachother for a bit. Vil thinks it would be incredibly romantic if he didn’t have to grossly sniffle halfway through. Silver seems to think it’s oddly cute, however.
He starts pulling up the blanket a bit more and then using the tips of his hand to start tucking the layers of blankets as close to Vil as possible. He’s taking his tucking duties very seriously.
“Not exactly the pinnacle of beauty right now, am I?” Vil says kind of offhandedly, but Silver shakes his head. He places the back of his hand on Vil’s forehead to check his temperature again, still feverish.
The hand resting upon Vil’s forehead turns, softly brushing the hair covering his forehead back, and Silver leans over slightly to press a kiss onto their forehead.
“Your beauty transcends far beyond physical appearance.”
“Stop that, you.” Vil sinks further into his blanket, pulling it up to cover half of his face, which was getting red for more reasons than simply being sick. Silver blinks a couple of times, confused about what he’s done to get this reaction, but upon noticing the red creeping up to their ears he gives them a tender smile.
“I love you so very much.”
“Now you’re just doing it on purpose!”
“A little.”
Vil sighs and shakes his head, which Silver can only laugh and smile at. Vil thinks maybe his teasing ways are starting to rub off on them… If that’s for better or worse he’s yet to find out.
He can’t help but smile either at the sound of their laugh, though. Vil pulls one of his arms out of his freshly tucked cocoon, placing it over one of theirs, rubbing his thumb over the back of their hand lovingly.
“I love you too, Silver.”
The moment is good, but Vil's eyebrows furrow slightly as something crosses his mind.
The smile on his face fades momentarily when Vil’s hand holds onto Silver’s a bit tighter, almost like a squeeze.
“Can you stay? Even just for a little bit?”
Silver seems surprised at their question. Or the way they pose it. It’s still very rare for Vil to open up in a very vulnerable way like this.
“Yes, of course.”
He maneuvres his hand to lock their fingers together, a gesture that Vil allows and follows, giving them a comforting squeezing in return.
“As long as you’d like.”