Work Text:
”Are you dressed?” Ahsoka asks, knocking lightly on the fresher door, and then a bit harder when the sound of vomiting grows even louder.
”Yeah, but,” Anakin coughs twice more, “I’m okay, Snips, you can go back to bed.”
She rolls her eyes from outside the door, muttering to herself,
”Go back to bed—go back to bed? You’re sick, you idiot, I’m going to help you,” as she marches across the floor and over to the kitchenette.
She stands up on the tips of her toes, trying to reach the handle of the cabinet above her—the one that Anakin would usually sneak up behind her and wrap his hands around her waist to lift her up to if she didn’t decide to climb on her own.
Right now, she doesn’t have much of a choice as she hoists one of her feet onto the counter, lifting herself up to pull back the sliding door and retrieve the thin, light crackers that he always gives her when she’s throwing up.
”He shouldn’t be surprised,” she continues whispering to herself, “I was sick a week ago and he hardly left my side.”
She hops down off of the counter, strolling over to their tiny pantry to pull a soda from the pack that they keep on the lowest shelf, usually for situations like this.
She tucks the pack of crackers under her arm in order to pull the fresher door open with her other hand, walking to her master’s side and kneeling down next to him when he looks up at her with furrowed eyebrows.
”I brought you some snacks,” she says with a toothy grin, tearing the crackers’s packaging off and waving the sleeve in front of his pale, pasty face.
”Ahsoka…”
”I was just sick, I’m not going to get it again if I take care of you,” she replies while she unscrews the lid to the soda.
”Well, okay, Healer Snips, what’s your diagnosis?” he chuckles, his voice hoarse, weak, and tired.
”Hmm,” she says, reaching up to press the back of her hand to his sweaty forehead. He plays along, closing his eyes and trying not to laugh. “Well, you’re all clammy and you’re throwing up, and I just had the stomach virus so I’m going to take a wild guess and say that you do too.”
”Sounds about right,” he replies, opening his eyes back up again as she removes her hand. “And what do you, my smart padawan, think that I should do about that?”
She pretends to think for a few moments while he watches her with half of his mouth pulled up in a soft smile, breathing heavily in the aftermath of his puking.
”Well, first, I think you should eat the crackers and drink the soda I brought you.”
”Done and done,” he sighs, pulling them up off of the ground.
”And second, I think that you should go to bed and let me stay in your room so you can wake me when you need help again,” she finishes, ducking beneath his arm so he can lean against her when they stand up.
”That sounds like a good plan,” he says through a mouthful of cracker crumbs while she walks him to his bedroom in their shared quarters.
He sets the soda bottle on his nightstand, the crackers still in hand while Ahsoka pushes lightly on his chest to get him to sit down on the mattress.
”Go grab your pillow and blanket,” he instructs while he pulls off his outer robe layers until he’s just in a t-shirt and sleep pants, “you can set yourself up next to me.”
”Sounds perfect,” she agrees, skipping out of his room while he laughs softly. She really is a good kid.
When she returns, she’s happy to see that he’s drinking the soda she brought him, slowly, but surely.
”Any better?” she asks while she pushes his pillow aside in order to fit hers. It won’t matter; they usually end up on top of one another anyways.
”Yes,” he replies, grinning as she pulls her covers up over her body, “you make everything better.”
She turns to him with the biggest smile and he lifts a fist up in front of himself for her to bump with her own.
”’Night,” he whispers with a smile as they both lie down against their respective pillows.
”’Night,” she whispers back, her voice hushed. “Love you.”
She hears him huff out an affectionate laugh before saying softly back,
”Love you too.”