splitmemory | riddle/cater shenanigans

Riddle's face heats up, a small pout coming to his face as Cater winds around him, holding him in a grip that was all too tight to squirm out of right now, with how weak he was.

This does not stop Riddle from grabbing one of his pillows and bonking Cater lightly.

"Cater, we're sticky and gross. Get up." Another bonk.... relentless.

"Waahhhh, so mean...!"

But Cater stretches out like a cat, finally unwinding himself from around Riddle. He sprawls, still not making much of a move to get up but at least freeing the other boy from his hold.

"Are we gonna shower together?"

Because he's down, but he wonders how Riddle feels about it. Cater peeks one eye open, wanting to see if the question gets a cute reaction.

The bonking ends as Cater unwinds himself, but the pillow is still poised, ready to attack at any moment, if the cat-like boy acted a fool.

And, there it was.
A statement that causes Riddle to gasp and smack him with the pillow again, his whole face flushing further.

"What kind of question-?!" He exclaims.

That is, until he thinks about it a little longer.
"..."
"We might have to."

Cater can't help it--he bursts into giggles as the pillow smacks him again, feigning injury as he whines between laughter. "What, don't want me worshiping your body with a scrubby? Not part of my duties as your soldier?"

He's just an innocent little guy, look at him! Despite his goofy, somewhat sleepy expression, Cater reaches up to brush some of Riddle's disheveled hair out of his face.

"Really, I can wait if you'd rather have some time to yourself. I'll strip the bed while you shower."

Okay, maybe he did want that. Maybe that would be nice... to have someone take care of him in full like that, helping him get all cleaned up after their night--

No, what was he even THINKING?!

"Shut up...!" The pillow seems to be ready to hit again, but instead, Riddle just puts it down, shoving it back into place.

"Ugh..." Riddle moves his hand up, clutching his head. "... Alright. Stay close by while I do." He's a little worried he might fall if he's on his own, but-- but taking a shower together. That's way too intimate, too romantic, isn't it?

Sniffling slightly, Riddle rubs at his nose with the back of his hand, looking away from Cater.

Cater can't stop smiling as he watches Riddle. He stretches out toward him, practically bumping his head into his housewarden's leg. "I won't, I promise. I'm just going to clean up a little--so if you need me, call and I'll fly to your side."

There was that tray of food to clean up, too, as well as what he'd left in the kitchen...for now, though, he'd focus on getting the bedroom cleaned. Riddle was still burning up, so Cater wanted to be sure he had fresh sheets to fall back into as soon as he was out of the shower.

Cater had no right being this damned precious. That smile was enough to melt anyone, right? It wasn't just a thing Riddle was experiencing, was it? If it was-- then, what the hell did that mean?

With a small nod, Riddle shifts, getting himself up slowly out of bed. His eyes spare a glance towards his nightstand, where that camellia rests, before his gaze moves back from it, back onto the task at hand.

It's utterly humiliating to be wearing only his button up shirt, half on after the events of the previous night, but Cater had already seen everything embarrassing about him. It shouldn't be that embarrassing, really.

It takes the boy a few minutes to grab a change of clothes. Pajamas, underwear. Seems he was planning on resting, thankfully.

Wandering to the shower, Riddle takes his time getting cleaned up there, spending extra time between his legs. His face burns bright red the whole time, remembering what they'd done the night before. Cater... had been inside of him. That actually happened, the two of them had slept together, had gone that far--

And he was good at it, too.

Finally, Riddle finishes his shower, getting himself changed into his pajamas and wandering lazily back to his room, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand.
"Cater...?" He calls out lightly, wondering if he actually had stayed close.

Cater looks up--in the time Riddle took to shower, he had stripped the bed of its sheets and placed them in the laundry, fetching new ones to replace them with. He's still in the clothes he'd been wearing--which couldn't have been comfortable, but he would be showering next, anyway, so it seemed silly to change now. He's just finishing putting on the new sheets as Riddle enters and calls out. At once, he has a new smile lighting up his face.

"Feeling any better? Here, slide in and I'll grab the comforter. You must be hungry by now, too. I'll make you something that you can eat in bed."

Doing a quick fluff of the pillows for Riddle to rest upon, Cater hurries over to grab the comforter that he'd set aside while he fixed up the rest of the bed. Once the little king is in place, he'll throw them over and tuck him in properly. How's that for good service? Maybe he'd had a bit of experience caring for his own sick siblings, once or twice.

"A little." Riddle replies easily, seeming to visibly relax further as he spots Cater, as he hears his voice. Good, he'd kept his promise, stayed close as he could... and he even actually went through with all the work of changing the sheets, making sure to get everything cleaned for him. Shifting over to the bed, he practically drags his feet the whole way, like a child who was far too tired for his own good.

Getting comfortable in bed was easier, now, with how clean everything was. It felt better, even if his bed lacked a significant warmth within it, in the form of one Cater Diamond.

"You're not getting sick too, are you?" Riddle asks as he's tucked in, his hand reaching out and grasping onto one of Cater's, refusing to let him go until he's gotten an answer to that question. And...

He pulls that hand up towards his own face, pressing Cater's hand to his own forehead. Riddle's face is red, flushed with his fever and something more. He doesn't want to ask for it aloud, but he hopes this is enough. "Before you go..." He murmurs, avoiding his gaze.

He wants a kiss. Right where he's put Cater's hand, on his head. It's not clear at all and he knows it. Cater might get it. He's Riddle's camellia, after all. How could he not?

Is it just him, or does Riddle get like, five times cuter when he's sick? There's something so precious about the way he holds himself, the way he moves and those reluctant glances. He's sure he's never seen this side of Riddle before, and he can't help himself.

"Before I go?"

But it's more of a teasing question. He leans in and replaces the cool palm of his hand with his lips against Riddle's warm forehead. Cater takes his time pulling back, fingertips trailing down the other boy's cheek as he does.

"I feel fine. I'm going to clean myself up, and then I'll be back with breakfast, okay? Nothing as fancy as yesterday, just something good for you while you're sick."

Cater did it-- he figured out what Riddle wanted. Understood what he meant by the hand to his forehead. Riddle couldn't look happier if he tried. The illness made it hard to fake what he was feeling, to hide away any slivers of emotion that might be something he doesn't want to show.

He smiles, smug in a way, that he'd gotten what he wanted. Getting comfortable under the comforter, he pulls it further up, to hide the lower half of his face.

"Alright." He agrees lightly, nodding his head lightly.

"... Can you bring painkillers when you come back? My head really hurts. And-- what are we going to do after breakfast?" So many questions, so many little requests. How needy..!

OMG. Ugh, Cater wishes he could take pictures of every little expression that Riddle's been making so he could go back and look at them again, later. But no, he just had to rely on his own memory to savor this dose of sweetness--it was the only sugar he found himself craving more of.

"I'll go get those first, that way they'll kick in by the time I get back for real." He stands, stepping toward the door and humming as he picks up the abandoned tray from the night before. "What we do after breakfast depends on how you're feeling."

He can't stop himself from tossing Riddle a wink over his shoulder.

"I'll leave it up to your imagination."

That cheerful expression quickly is replaced to a half embarrassed half annoyed expression, that he hides under the comforter. Waving his hand at Cater to make him leave faster, he grumbles something unintelligible under the cover.

"Stupid...." He mutters, bringing his hands up under the comforter to press them to his face. Cater was so damned stupid. So so so stupid. What did he even MEAN by that?! If he lets his imagination run too far, he might end up worked up again, thinking about all the things they'd done the night before.

Maybe he should've grabbed his pen and thrown a pillow into the back of Cater's head.

Or, thrown the pillow directly himself.
Instead, he waits for Cater to return with the medicine, burying himself under the comforter.

Cater bursts into giggles at Riddle's reaction, quickly darting out the door as if afraid something would get thrown at him. It only takes him a moment to put the tray down in the kitchen and fetch the painkillers, which he brings with a fresh glass of water.

"Here you are," he offers, holding out the two items before him like they're a peace offering. The too-wide grin is still plastered across his face, and as soon as Riddle takes them he jumps back, light on his feet. "KK, I'm gonna shower now. Just call for me if you need anything once I'm out and working on breakfast. BRB, Queen!"

And there he goes. He doesn't require cleaning nearly as thorough as Riddle, but he still make sure he's nice and scrubbed down before changing into some comfortable lounge clothes--something a step up from pajamas, but still suited for a day spent indoors and relaxing. Within about twenty minutes he can be heard singing to himself in the kitchen as he clatters around, using a Split Card to assist him with cleaning from the night before while he simultaneously works on breakfast.

Assuming Riddle doesn't need him any sooner, he'll be on his way in with a new tray in about a half hour more. This one has a hot bowl of fresh porridge and a steaming cup of honeyed tea.

"Miss me?"

If Cater hadn't left in time, Riddle was seriously considering it. He nearly reached over to his nightstand to grab his pen before he notices that Cater had made the right decision, leaving him be in the room to go fetch the meds and water.

The peace offerings are taken easily, Riddle offering one more glare to the other teen as he jumps back. Seven save him from the torture that was Cater Diamond. Cater wasn't stuck here with Riddle, Riddle was stuck here with Cater.

Riddle swallows two pills easily before setting the bottle and water glass onto his nightstand, settling in under the comforter.

It's hard not to doze with how comfortable he is, his eyes closed. The only thing that half wakes him back up is the sound of singing-- oh. Cater's.... voice was nice.... The very same voice that'd woken him up from his dozing state puts him right back to a calm quiet, his breathing becoming more even as the painkillers finally begin to take effect.

The footsteps rouse him enough that he shifts to sit up in bed, preparing himself for his breakfast. The question earns a soft, sleepy nod, before Riddle realizes he'd just answered the question in an all too embarrassing way. Turning his chin up, looking away from Cater, he scoffs, "You weren't even gone that long."

His gaze flicks towards the tray.

Awww, he looked so comfortable and cozy--Cater almost wishes he hadn't disturbed Riddle at all, but since they ended up skipping dinner, it was definitely important that they both got something in them to start the day.

"It's not much, but it'll keep your energy up and help you get better."

Cater places the tray gently down on Riddle's legs before sliding into the spot next to him. He should go get himself a serving, but now that he's here, he finds himself reluctant to get back up again. Can't he just lay here and watch Riddle enjoy being pampered?

“Anything will do. Besides, I feel a little nauseous, so…”

Lifting the spoon up, he gathers himself a good spoonful of porridge, carefully bringing it to his lips and eating a little at a time, trying to go easy on his stomach after the lack of food. Really, he’d only had breakfast yesterday, skipping lunch and dinner by accident, unless Cater counted their hot cocoa as a lunch.

“This is perfect.” He finished his statement, reaching out his free hand to tuck some of Cater’s hair out of his face. Looking back down to his food, he focused his attention there.

“I’m sorry again. That I got so sick in the first place.” He apologizes lightly, “I should’ve known better. I’m a little weaker than I’d like to admit.”

Cater smiles up at Riddle as he plays with his hair. Perfect, huh?

"You did put me on breakfast duty," he jokes. "Gotta make sure each day starts off just right."

But at the next sentiment, he shakes his head. "You don't need to apologize for that. It's not because you're weak--it's because you work so hard. We just gotta get you to practice moderation. Every body needs to rest and recharge from time to time, even yours."

That's right: perfect. A simple word that, in more ways than one, meant more than Riddle would ever realize himself. He'd had someone care for him when he was sick before, but it wasn't like this. Wasn't like...

"I'll hold you to it." Riddle declares with a firm nod, finally eating a bit more. If he wasn't sick and worried about spreading those germs to Cater, he might get some onto his spoon and bring it up to the other boy's lips, to make sure he ate too.

With a thoughtful hum, Riddle keeps his gaze away from Cater.

"What does moderation even mean? I cannot abandon any of my duties and I certainly cannot let myself begin to slip in my studies," Here comes the lecture, if Cater wasn't careful, "... I meant it literally. Not as some dig at myself. Who do you think I am that you think I'd wallow in self pity?" In front of someone else?, he stops from adding. Riddle shakes his head, making a face. "My body has a harder time fighting these things off." Which, if Riddle was a bit less stubborn, was exactly why he needed to rest and recharge. Dumb genius of a boy.

Cater sighs with a chuckle. Only Riddle would argue a point like this. "Rest is what keeps a body healthy," he reaffirms gently. "I meant more than just a mental recharge."

But, whatever. If Riddle wants to lecture, he'll just get comfortable. It's fun to hear him talk, even when he's being kind of ridiculous.

"I'm sure you know yourself better than I do, though. What my liege says, goes!"

And argue it he, unfortunately, would. "Rest isn't the only thing that keeps someone healthy," Riddle begins, knowing full well he was both digging his own grave and giving plenty of invalid points, "At times, our bodies aren't what tell us our limits. If something hurts, you push through it. If you get sick, you push through that."

Riddle makes a face down at Cater, before shifting one hand down, unable to stop himself. He twirls a small wavy piece of hair around his finger, allowing the soft strand to slip between his first and second fingers.

"It's only when we've completed what we've set out to do that it's time to rest. To have structure is to be healthy. By following each little rule, each step," The more he talked, the more he heard not his own voice, but--
Ah, and he'd tried so hard to get away from home by staying back over break. This is... exactly the type of mindset that pushed him over the edge in the first place, that overwhelmed him. The very mindset that his dear dorm members were trying to pull him from.

"..." His gaze stays on Cater for a second, that strand of hair falling from his hold. "... Would be what I would say if I weren't trying to do better about this. You'll teach me, won't you? How to rest, to relax."

Though half-lidded, his green eyes watch Riddle as he goes on his tirade. He doesn't react to his hair being played with, doesn't seem at first like he's going to react to any of it--but then Riddle catches himself. Cater feels a mixture of emotions--sympathy for what he's gone through, pride for how far he's come from being the Tyrant of Heartslabyul.

"I will," he promises, lacing his finger's through Riddle's before he can pull his hand away. "It'll get easier with practice, just like everything else."

Oh. Why was his heart racing again, at such a simple gesture? They'd held hands plenty the day before, fingers laced together just like this. The promise- that's what must be making him feel this way. It wasn't an easy one for Riddle to accept, of course, that had to be it. What else could it be...?

With a small sniff, he nods, his own hand finally accepting the hold, squeezing Cater's hand lightly.

Then, he brings the other boy's hand up, pressing a kiss to the back of it, as his cheeks burn with definitely only the fever. Yep. Nothing else. "Alright. Then: what are we doing today, Cater?" Riddle asks, using his other hand to bring his teacup up to his lips, tilting his chin up to avoid looking back down to him again.

No, he isn't letting go of his hand.

Riddle's face was so hot--he's clearly still wrestling with a fever. "You," he corrects, "are staying in bed until your fever breaks. Otherwise you're just going to make it worse. But I'll keep your company--we can find something to watch on my laptop when you're not too tired."

He smiles at Riddle, and for a second a somewhat mischievous look crosses his face. "If you can keep your hands off me."

This time, it's his turn to bring their joined hands to his lips.

That... yes, that was fair, he did suppose he needed to actually stay in bed, to rest and allow his body to take over to heal. He begrudgingly agreed, taking a small sip of the tea he'd been made, before Cater makes that comment.

Ugh! And the kiss to his hand!! How dare he act like this, when Riddle couldn't squirm and shove him too hard, lest he spill the warm food and drink he had right above his lap?

Instead, he pulls his hand back from Cater's, before shoving at the other boy with that very same hand, pressing his hand against Cater's shoulder to shove him back. Not roughly, not even enough to actually force him back that far. "What is that supposed to mean?!" Riddle exclaims, "If I recall, it was you who had your hands all over me." No, he wasn't going to mention the fact that he'd been touching himself thinking about Cater, nope. And don't you dare bring it up Cater, unless you want this boy to really attack you.

riddle/cater shenanigans

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