***
"Achoo!!"
"Bless you." He didn't look up from newspaper he was currently reading. The woman in bed groaned, her face buried in the pillow in front of her.
"Stupid cold." She sobbed, throwing up her arms in exasperation. Her voice came out hoarse with her clogged nose. Colds were a normal occurrence during that time of the year, but she hated them still. She hated the runny noses, puffy eyes, itchy throats and just about anything that colds were known for bringing.
Not to mention the fevers that left her feeling dizzy and weak. That was what she hated the most.
The man beside her bed gave her a pointed look. "Oh really? I thought it to be a beautiful change in this place. But with you complaining, I'm starting to see that this isn't any better than your normal self-" He didn't have enough time to dodge the pillow flung straight at his face.
"Hey!" he exclaimed loudly, grabbing the pillow and flinging it back at her. Kiara caught it and hugged it to her chest again, shooting him a glare. The high priest ignored it at first, choosing instead to pick up the newspaper he had dropped. But after some time, he glanced at the girl and still found her Prussian eyes boring right into him.
Saint, though he hated to admit it, was unnerved by this. In the short time they've known each other, this usually meant she was ready to do something reckless and possibly health hazardous to him. Just what did she find so sadistically pleasurable in annoying him day in and day out? Well, granted that he did the same thing to her, but that was only because she always started their daily battles. He would have ignored the uptight woman a long time ago if she wasn't so adamant... and his so-called babysitter and partner for Odin-knows-how-long.
What did I do to deserve this?
"... What?" he said unsurely, slowly putting down the newspaper and readied himself to dodge whatever she was about to do. Her face suddenly scrunched up and he bolted from his chair.
But she only sneezed. And sneezed. And sneezed. In fact, she kept sneezing for a good part of a minute. By the time her fit ended, her short black hair was more mussed up than ever and her nose redder than it was before. He fought the urge to chuckle at her as he went back to his seat.
The girl huffed and whined, "You don't get sick, Saint. Why don't you get sick?" It made him wonder why her words didn't come out so garbled with her runny nose. Womanly pride, he supposed.
Saint raised a brow at her question, answering in kind, "Because I take my medicine like the good boy I am. And Blue? I don't roll around in mud and chase other boys afterwards." He grinned, taking some tissue from the bedside table and offered it to her.
"That was just Bertram and I sparring, idiot."
"It looked like something else to me."
"Do not start with me, priest." She growled threateningly, swiping the tissue from his hand without so much as a thanks escaping her mouth. And he could've sworn her other hand tightened around the pillow and her eyes hungrily glanced over at her swords leaning against the opposite wall. Even the sunlight touched upon the sheaths at an angle that made them shine and look like some sort of God given answer.
He felt beads of sweat rolling down the sides of his face. Oh Hel, no...
"Grow up, Blue." The priest couldn't help but tell her. Kiara growled again, but made no attempt to geld him bare-handed. She sunk back into the pillows, hugging the pillow she previously flung at him close to her breast. She remained blissfully quiet for a couple of minutes, and then...
"I wish you had a cold. And then you'd be stuck in bed and I'd laugh at your karma... and then laugh some more." She said with an odd determination. "And you know what? I want to see you sneeze until your brains come out. I want to see just how small it is."
"Glad that's a step down from your usual thoughts about me. Might you want to ask for my eyes as well? You do have a thing for trying to blind me for the constant 'ogling' you accuse me of." Amongst other things. He added as an afterthought. Kiara sniffed, throwing him a half hearted glare but otherwise kept silent.
Score one for the priest. He smiled.
Saint chuckled, sitting on the bed beside her. "Time to check your temperature, your Highness." The priest said, reaching a hand out and resting it against her exposed forehead, ignoring her indignant squeak. He looked pensive, while Kiara closed her eyes and quietly breathed, ignoring his cool hand for the most part. Not a moment later, he moved his hand to her neck and checked there too.
He retracted his hand, tilting his head ever so slightly while saying, "Just a slight fever. You're a tough cookie, Blue." The crusader said nothing, not even when she felt a small pang of disappointment when his hand left her. She didn't want to dwell on her desire for physical contact, especially that of a certain high priest.
Sick. I'm just sick. It's just a passing delusion. She told herself. A small tea set was laid out on the table, complete with a steaming teapot filled with honeyed green tea. He poured tea into a porcelain teacup and took it back with him.
"Drink this." He said, and she kindly obliged. Saint reassumed his spot on the chair, propping his feet up on the lower half of her bed. He picked up the newspaper again, taking the pencil that miraculously stayed behind his ear the whole time. He returned his attention to the newspaper, unconsciously chewing on the eraser end of the pencil.
"Hey, Blue. What's a four letter synonymous word for the anatomical juxtaposition of two orbicularis oris muscles in the state of contraction? I swear this is the craziest crossword question I've--"
"Kiss." She answered, regarding him over the rim of her cup.
He sent her a dubious look, before deciding to write it down anyway. Out of curiosity, he peeped at the answers in the lower portion of the page. "... What do you know? You're actually ri--"
She sneezed and flung the pillow hard at him again. And this time she relished in her sweet comeback when the chair and its occupant toppled to the floor in surprise.
Score one for the crusader.
End Entry.
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