DrIplierst fluff if you're okay with that?

The Host wakes up, and smiles.

In fifteen minutes, Dr. Iplier is going to come home, grinning, because the schedule will have been messed up at the hospital and they’ll have had far too many people scheduled. He’ll kick off his shoes and unbutton his shirt and run a hand through his hair, ruining the style, and fail at trying to be quiet when he slides back into bed fully clothed.

They’ll pretend to sleep for another hour, curled around one another, warm and safe under their piles of blankets. The Host will sit up and softly ask Dr. Iplier to change the bandages around his eyes, and Dr. Iplier will kiss him on the nose and tell him of course, always, without question. They’ll pad to the bathroom and stand on cold linoleum while Dr. Iplier runs gentle hands over the Host’s cheekbones and ties soft cloth around his head. They’ll stand like that for a while, hands carefully tilting head around to get every angle, and Dr. Iplier will run a smooth thumb over the Host’s stubble and there will be a smile in his voice when he suggests breakfast.

It will be slightly too late for breakfast, edging into lunch, but they’ll scramble eggs and make toast and sit at their tiny wooden table and eat together while the Host narrates the morning’s newspaper in between bites. Dr. Iplier will turn on the television for background noise and they’ll cuddle on the couch all afternoon, watching inaccurate hospital dramas until Dr. Iplier gets frustrated enough that they have to watch game shows instead. The Host will lean into Dr. Iplier’s side while they catch the tail end of Bim’s show, and they’ll turn the channel halfway through Wilford interviewing a Kardashian.

They’ll order Chinese for dinner and the Host will get a headache about the concept of fortune cookies, but Dr. Iplier will press ibuprofen into his hand and the Host will smile at him. The delivery will be twenty minutes late but neither will be annoyed because they will have been too busy kissing on the couch to notice the passage of time.

After they eat they’ll retreat to the bathroom, where the Host will take a shower while Dr. Iplier sits on the counter and intermittently flirts with him and reads the labels of the things in their medicine cabinet to comment on their active ingredients. Dr. Iplier will carefully apply fresh bandages to the Host’s eyes and berate him for straining himself to the point of bleeding, but the Host will simply murmur something about not being able to help it, and Dr. Iplier will frown but take his hand anyway.

They’ll collapse into bed and fall asleep curled around one another, warm and safe and happy.

The Host knows this the instant he wakes up, and smiles.