“Good job.”
“Stop.”
“No, really, you are a fucking genius.”
Michael slid his back down the couch until the back of his head was rested on the top of the couch, closing his eyes. “You’re not helping my head,” he grunted, his voice scratchier than usual.
A violent, obnoxious sneeze erupted from you followed by a deadly glare sent to your supposedly amazing hockey boyfriend, Michael Latta. “‘I’m not sick,’” you sneered, your voice scratchier and lower than usual, which helped your mocking mimic of his voice. “‘You’ll be fine.’”
“Can you stop and come here?”
You stood your ground beside the couch with your arms crossed over your chest and your eyes still narrowed at him. “No.”
“I’m sick. You’re sick. How much sicker can we get?”
“By this point, I could probably end up on my death bed.”
A pout slipped onto his lips and his eyebrows dipped. Sadness poured into his gray eyes, making you want to kick yourself and give in. Those stupid eyes were the reason you were sick in the first place; those stupid eyes were the reason you gave in so easily.
“Fine,” you grunted, reluctantly walking over and taking the spot beside him. You draped your arm over his stomach and cuddled against his body while he wrapped his arm around neck. “I hate you so much,” you grumbled while, with his other hand, he pulled his extremely soft blanket onto you.
“I know you do,” he hummed, a smug-mixed-with-a-happy tone in his voice. “Wanna watch a movie?”
You softly sighed and nodded. “What else is there to do, Mr. Contagious?”
You felt Michael’s body rumbling under your hand as he laughed and kissed your forehead. “You’re a grumpy one when you’re sick, eh? Remind me to never get you sick again.”
“Or just never get sick again, period.”
“I like that one.”
You pulled your freezing feet under your butt, causing your knees to rest on his thighs, and shivered. It felt like the room just dropped fifty degrees.
“You okay, Y/N?” Michael whispered, concerned. “Want me to raise the heat?”
“Yes, please,” you murmured, but buried your face into his chest, softly groaning. God, you hated your boyfriend so much for getting you sick, but at least he was just as sick. You whimpered when he gently pushed you off him and stood up, tucking you in the blanket before walking off.
You casually grabbed the remote that was sitting idly on the couch and switched to On Demand. “What do you wanna watch?” you inquired, but there wasn’t a response. “Ugh. You know I never know what to watch, Latts. Gimme suggestions.”
Again, no response.
The thermostat was in the living room and you were no longer shivering. Where did the idiot go?
The blanket dropped to your waist when you sat up. Looking around, you couldn’t find your boyfriend in sight. “Michael, where are you?” you hollered, but still no response. Furrowing your eyebrows, you faced the television again and continued looking through the movies, grumbling, “Probably went to the bathroom or something.”
Barely a few minutes later, a steaming mug was in front of your face. You pulled your head back in surprise then glanced from the mug up to your cheeky boyfriend.
“I made you some tea,” Michael said.
Your eyes flickered back the mug as your hands rose and accepted the mug. Your cheeks burned as he returned to his spot, draping his arms around your shoulders and tugging the blanket back onto him.
You were so mean to him, yet he did this for you. “Thanks,” you murmured, struggling to hold back the stupid grin that wanted to spread across your face. “Sorry for being mean before.”
“Sorry for getting you sick.”
You took a few sips from the mug then placed it aside, so the tea could cool off. “So, what do you want to watch?”
“Let’s watch Ant Man,” he said without hesitation, placing his cup aside. “I think it was added to the list.”
“Nerd,” you coughed and he playfully squeezed your side, chiding, “Yet who’s the one who had an Avengers marathon with me barely a week ago?”
You looked over at him, barely inches between your faces. “It’s called pity, babe.”
“Uh, huh.” He smirked. “You –”
In a flash, simultaneously, you both turned your heads away and violently sneezed.
“I hate you,” you groaned, throwing your head back and resting it on Michael’s shoulder.
Resting his head on yours, he responded in a groan, “And I’m starting to understand why.”

Notes

Request:
[request 1] your imagines are so cute!! how about a michael latta one about cuddling and watching a movie bc you're both sick and can't go out??
[request 2] ooh ooh it would be nice to get a michael latta one too! (or tom wilson, not very picky xD)