"You know I hate that stuff," and he sets it down by the bed and leans down to kiss her forehead, feels the heat of it.

"Yes, well, perhaps you should at least take a little discomfort to get better - all our gods know how very thoroughly you're willing to walk on broken parts of your body when it's not necessary, so don't pretend this is too much."

There's a defeated, irritated sigh, and then she forces herself up on her shoulders, takes a long drink of his tea, staring him in the eyes the whole time a little balefully, and then lies down, and he laughs and tucks her in.

"I'll be here."