Timeline: A few days before Homecoming
Monet: Monet laid slightly propped up, curled as much as she could against Mayhem and still see the television where she was flipping channels. She couldn't focus on any of the shows she passed though, so she put the remote on his legs and closed her eyes. "Jason might just win the bet after all," she grumbled as she pulled the blanket tighter around herself.
Mayhem: Mayhem wrapped an arm around Monet and pulled her a little closer, nuzzling her hair. "Wh-what bet?" He murmured, moving the remote so that she could curl up better.
Monet: "Whoever dies first out of the two of us owes the other money in our will." She took a sharp breath and brought her hand up quickly to cover her mouth as she started hacking. "He thinks this will kill me... I'm starting to think he's right. It's feeling more like a flu than a cold now. I hurt. I'm not supposed to hurt."
Mayhem: Mayhem hesitated and then pulled Monet into his lap gently, laying her head against his chest and chewing a lip worridly. She shouldn't be getting ill. "I-it won't k-kill y-you. H-have y-you e-ever had a c-cold o-or anything?"
Monet: "When I was five or so." She smirked a bit, "Would you go to my funeral, mon chat? Or would Jason have to give you free weed to get you to come?"
Mayhem: Mayhem bit his lip at that. "D-don't s-say things l-like th-that." He said quickly - or as quickly as he could with the damned stutter. "Y-you're n-not going t-to die." He stroked her hair lightly. "I-I would c-come, you don't e-even need t-t-to ask." He closed his eyes. And he needed to tell her that he'd be visiting his parents in Plymouth soon...
Monet: Monet laughed, which quickly turned into more coughing. "Oh good. Then I'll tell Jason they won't need as much then." She turned her head to look up at him, "Smile, cher. Everything's fine, remember?"
Mayhem: "O-oui..." Mayhem smiled back. "I-I just...well..." He shrugged, glancing up at the TV. "Um...Monet, d-don't t-take this th-the wr-wrong way b-but I-I'm going b-back to E-England..."
Monet: Monet's smile quickly left her face and she pushed away from him to sit up. "Don't take that the wrong way? Is there a right way to take you leaving me? You're the one who wanted to try this again, remember?" She wrapped her blanket around her and pushed to stand, not sure why she bothered with anyone anymore.
Mayhem: Mayhem blinked, then pulled her back into his lap gently. "L-leaving you?" The hell had she got that fr- oh. "Oh, n-no, I-I'm n-not l-leaving, chere." He shook his head. "Wh-why w-would I-I want t-to leave y-you now? Th-this is my h-home." He smiled a little, kissing her forehead and trying to ignore how hot it was. "Non. Ju-just visiting m-my parents f-for a while."
Mayhem: "I-I'll b-be back, th-they want t-to make s-sure I-I'm alright a-and I-I miss them."
Monet: Monet let that sink in for a moment and she slowly leaned into him, not sure how to diffuse herself all at once. "Oh..." She frowned and pulled back enough to look at him, "I can't keep you safe if you're all the way in England."
Mayhem: "A-and I-I can't l-look a-after y-you all th-the way over h-here." Mayhem leant in and kissed her gently, before pushing her down to lie back on his chest. "I-it w-won't b-be for l-long...j-just need a-a break t-to try a-and deal w-with th-this...y-you know?"
Monet: "When are you leaving?" She sat up rather quicklly as her nose started to tickle and got the kleenex just in time for her sneeze. She was much slower about laying back against him since moving that quick made her dizzy and nauseas. "I have to buy you an international cell phone before you go."
Mayhem: "Soon...i-in the n-next f-few days. M-Mum k-kinda brow-beat m-me i-into it." Mayhem nuzzled her again, tail tapping. "A-are y-you s-sure, chere? I-I d-don't w-want t-to spend t-too much o-of your money..."
Monet: "It's the best way to be able to call me every. Day," she narrowed her eyes at him to emphasize her point. "And besides, I have enough of it. That's like throwing a couple of coins into the wishing well. It's a good investment also."
Mayhem: Mayhem smiled wryly. "Y-you kn-know I'd c-call y-you every d-day j-just t-to listen t-to you t-tell me h-how c-crap you're f-feeling a-anyway, ph-phone or n-not." He held her closely, listening to her heartbeat for a while. "I-I kn-know th-that you have enough. I-I j-just don't w-want t-to be a leech."
Monet: "You're not. The annoying little green brat is." She smirked and buried her head in his neck, trying to get warmer. "We'll go first thing in the morning and pick out one you like that has international calling range. Oui?" Monet closed her eyes and pressed against him more. "How long are you going to be gone?"
Mayhem: "O-oui...i-if you're f-feeling w-well enough. I-if n-not, m-mail order." He stroked her hair again. "I-I d-don't w-want to s-stay away l-longer th-then a c-couple o-of weeks at most."
Monet: Monet frowned, "I just got you back..." And now she felt like a horrible whiney infant. "I hope you enjoy your trip, cher."
Mayhem: "I-I pr-promise, I-I won't b-be going a-anywhere e-else for a wh-while when I-I get b-back." He hugged her gently. "A-and I'll b-bring y-you b-back some n-nice things. P-promise. A-and m-maybe wh-when you're b-better? I-I'll t-take y-you t-to Devon too."
Monet: Monet smiled a little at the thought of someone wanting to bring her home to the parents. It was kind of amusing. "I can't go, cher. Even well. It's not safe for me to go to Europe..." She kissed him softly and laid back against him, "It's a nice thought though."
Mayhem: "W-well...m-maybe o-one day." Mayhem stroked her cheek carefully. "B-but th-there's o-other places w-we c-can go, h-here in A-America, r-right?"
Monet: "Oui. We can go anywhere you want in the world so long as it's not in Europe. Maybe we can go down to Australia over the holidays, hmm? Somewhere warm."
Mayhem: Mayhem purred. "I-I think I-I can l-live w-with b-being w-warm. F-felt l-like I-I haven't b-been w-warm s-since...s-since before th-the...y' know." He couldn't even bring himself to talk about it, the nightmares still stopping him from sleeping much and still unable to stay warm - or at least, feeling more like the sheer cold of the place had crept under his skin. He shivered slightly.
Monet: Monet slipped her arms around him as much as possible, taking the quilt with them to wrap him up with her. "It takes a while, mon chat. You will be fine again, you'll see."
Mayhem: "S-so l-long a-as you s-say s-so..." Mayhem smiled a little, snuggling into her. She'd been through this. She'd know. He trusted her. "Th-thank you."
Monet: "There is no need to thank me. I have not done anything." She coughed softly, "Except possibly get you sick."
Mayhem: Mayhem just chuckled and held her a little tighter. "Th-thank y-you all th' s-same, lover."