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The night before had been little more than a blur. Bar hopping with Mary and Robert always seemed to end that way. You were hoping for a chill night out, but so much for that. You took more shots than you could handle to try and keep up with those two and yet you still seemed to fall behind and had to head home early. This time was no exception, and the hangover was proof that alcohol was not your best friend.
Thankfully, Robert had been kind enough to actually end the night early and look after you. Meaning that he immediately took you to bed with some ibuprofen, a large plastic bowl, and a glass of water. You didn’t throw up often, but he would rather not have it on his bedroom floor if you couldn’t make it to the bathroom. He helped you slip into some pyjamas, his clothes, and cleaned you up before tucking you into the cozy sheets you had slept in most weekends. It wasn’t long before he curled up next to you, arm wrapped tightly around your waist.
When you woke up in the morning, the headache hit you like a train. Despite taking the ibuprofen and drinking as much water as your throat would let you swallow, your body decided to punish you for bullying it with poison. Fair enough. You stuck out a hand, patting the mattress and looking for Robert, only to find him not there. His spot was still warm, so thankfully he hadn’t been gone for too long. You had half the mind to get up and see what he was up to, but the other half begged you to not move an inch for fear of rattling your brain against your skull. You chose the latter.
He wasn’t missing for long. The smell of bacon and eggs quickly filled the bedroom as the door creaked open and Robert walked in holding two plates of the stuff. His morning look was always glorious. That greying hair all mussed up, tired eyes even after the recommended 8-12 hours, wearing nothing but his boxers. That’s a sight you could never grow tired of.
“Please don’t open the curtains. Or turn on the light. I need to sit in the dark like a little vampire.” You grumbled, pushing yourself up on your elbows to sit up. There was very little strength in your body and you were grateful for Roberts stiff pillows propping you up.
He chuckled and shook his head at you, but followed your request. The thin curtains allowed for some sunlight to peek through anyways, so it wasn’t like the room was pitch black. Thank goodness for that, because you got to feast your eyes on a very domestic version of your boyfriend in these moments. Stupid patterned ‘laundry day’ boxers and all.
Your eyes followed him as he placed the plates on your respective bedside tables. For a moment he just looked down at you. Dark eyes that should be intimidating show nothing but love and affection in them. That and a little sparkle of mischief that you knew was coming. You were about to defend yourself and your lack of alcohol tolerance, but before you could get a word out, he cracked a smile and leaned down to kiss your forehead. The gentle brush of his calloused fingers as he pushed away your hair made your skin feel warm. His slightly chapped lips following in their place didn’t make that any better.
“My little lightweight. You’re lucky I’m feeling generous enough to look after you.” He mumbled against your forehead before pressing another kiss to it. You rolled your eyes and pushed him away.
“Oh what a burden you bear. Now hand me my breakfast my loyal servant.”
“Now you’re pushing that luck, sugar.” Nonetheless, he handed you the plate and let you chow down. Robert wasn’t the greatest cook of all time, but he made a mean breakfast.
After you ate, he took the two plates to the kitchen. A little greasy food always did wonders for a hangover, and that pounding headache was already beginning to subside. Robert came back quickly with a bottle of gatorade and two more ibuprofen in hand. All hail the blessed electrolytes.
The second you were done, you curled back up under the blankets, pressing your head into the pillow and pulling the sheets tightly around you. Despite Roberts love and care, you still felt like garbage. Not as bad as you felt when you woke up, of course, but the kind of bad that required a nap. You were grateful that you had booked off work. You were far too much of a baby to suck it up and do your job for 8 hours with this bad of a (self-inflicted) headache.
You were already half asleep by the time your head hit the pillow, but you still felt Robert press his chest against your back and pull you in close to him. His head was buried in your neck, and you felt his scruff gently scratch at your throat. A few months back, that would have been an awfully uncomfortable feeling, but now it brought you nothing but comfort.
“Love you.” It was quiet and slightly muffled by the fabric of the pillow, but you were sure he heard you when he pressed his lips to your neck and shoulders.
“Love you too, lightweight. So much. Get some rest doll. I’ll be here when you wake up this time.”
You pushed yourself closer to him, and his grip on your waist tightened slightly as he held you. The warm puffs of air that blew across your bare skin and the gentle rise and fall of his chest against your back every time he took a breath made you feel safe. Suddenly, the hangover almost felt like a blessing. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if it meant you got to be babied by your lover. He adores you more than life itself, but that's his little secret.