Taking it day by day

*Cough, Cough*

Another morning, of, as Fluttershy would call it, the sickies. His throat burned and hurt, his nose dripped, and, in a sick twist of fate, he found himself with a pounding headache. Every noise, every chirp, growl, bark, and flitter seemed to give him a migraine.

Didn't help that Discord somehow found that he, the god of chaos, was now reliant on a canary yellow Pegasus. Yes, he trusted her, he trusted her more than any being of order in existence. Enough to allow himself to sit in her bed, weak and defenseless.

But he did have one complaint. Why did she have to live in such a noisy, animal filled and, well, chaotic home? He knew he enjoyed the irony. But he knew he would enjoy it more when he got over the cold he decided to improve after he.... "acquired" it.

Not his brightest moment.

“Ok, open up for the train~”

However, there was some benefits. Such as having the element of kindness herself cater to his every whim. If he felt the slightest bit hungry, she would know, and, without a word spoken, have a batch of chicken noodle soup for him five minutes later.

His head started to get unbearable? She was there with aspirin, Ibuprofen, or, when it got even worse, some tramadol.

Thirsty? Orange juice or some watered down and flat sprite.

She seemed to usually know his needs before he did. Which was truly impressive. But, as his sickness progressed, something snagged.

Namely, she started to insist on feeding him. Which, if she had the use of magic, or at least hands, wouldn't be all that bad. But using her mouth to feed him was… awkward. As awkward as having to dance with Celestia on her birthday. And that mare still couldn't dance after a thousand years.

“Oh, please open up? Um, Here comes the, er…. Demonic succubus?”

He sighed as he opened up his mouth. She knew him well. Far too well.  H quickly felt the offending spoon lightly jab his tongue. Fluttershy was, at most, two inches away. Far, far too close. Close enough to eat her head. Or kiss her. Or head-butt her. The jury was still out.

And, as he closed his mouth around the spoon, he suddenly realized something.

This was his eighth bowl of soup today.