"ACHOO!" Ichabod jumped as your sneeze echoed through the archives. He set down his book and went in search of you. It wasn't too difficult. He simple followed the sound of your sneezing and wheezing. "Are you ill, Miss Y/N?" he asked when he found you. You looked up from the book you were currently trying to read and scoffed. "No, of course not!" you said through your stuffed nose. You sniffed and looked back down at your book as Ichabod quirked a brow.

It was clear to him that you were indeed sick. Your nose was red and stuffy and your throat was clearly bothering you as you kept trying to clear it. Your eyes scanned the book in front of you, but Ichabod could tell that you weren't really read its contents. "Miss Y/N, you are clearly feeling unwell. Perhaps you should return to your home and recuperate?" Ichabod suggested kindly. You looked up again and he could see that you were struggling to keep your eyes open.

"I'm fine, Ichabo-" your statement was cut off by a coughing fit. Ichabod waited for the coughing to stop before he said, "Clearly...is there some reason you do not wish to leave?" he asked you. You shook your head, immediately regretting the decision when the room began to spin. He shook his head fondly. "I just want to help, Ichabod...it's my job," you told him, your eyelids getting heavier by the second.

Ichabod could see that there was no point in arguing with you. If there was one thing he'd learned about you over the time he'd known you, it was that you were as stubborn as they come. Ichabod returned to his own research and sat silently. After a few moments, he heard the sound of something heavy falling to the floor.

Ichabod sprang up and practically ran back to where he'd left you. He found you slumped over in your chair with your head on the desk and your book on the floor. He heard your breathing, ragged from your cold and sighed. "Not ill, indeed," he muttered to himself as he approached you. He carefully picked you up from your chair and moved you over to one of the couches he and Abbie had brought in. He laid you down and placed a blanket over you. He brushed a bit of (h/c) hair from your face, the warmth from your fever radiated onto his fingertips.

Ichabod pulled out his phone and called Jenny, telling her you were ill and asking her to bring what every she could from the pharmacy, or apothecary as he still called it. Jenny arrived a few minutes later with some medicine and soup for when you woke up. "Thank you, Miss Jenny. " Jenny took in your sleeping form and left the two of you alone.

Ichabod stayed by your side the rest of the day and well into the night, just making certain you didn't get any worse. When you woke up the next morning, you felt refreshed and a little better. Your nose was still a bit stuffy and your throat was still scratchy, but you didn't feel like you were going to fall over and pass out every second. Ichabod on the other hand, felt like death warmed over. He had fallen asleep on the second couch and he let out a groan as he peeled his eyes open.

"How are you fairing this morning, Miss Y/N?" he asked through his own stuffed nose. You chuckled for second before the need to cough overwhelmed you. When you finished, you looked at him again. "Better than yesterday, but I think you caught whatever I have," you said. Ichabod forced himself to sit up and stretched. "Nonsense. I am never ill. I am simply...ACHOO!"'d lovk-