Hershel Layton One Shots

Weathering The Storm

In a bang, [Y/N] opened the door fully, barging into the house, followed closely by Layton, standing behind her. Hurrying inside, she let the way into the hall open to him, before she closed the front door behind him after he had entered.

"Take Luke into your bedroom." She told him in the form of an order, one he did not mind being given considering the circumstances.

So, without saying a word, the Professor promptly made his way to his bedroom, carrying his young apprentice in his arms, and leaving multiple, wet sets of footprints behind him. [Y/N] followed after him and watched him approach the bed before he set the boy down on it, on top of the bedsheets.

She stepped closer to him as Layton leaned forward and rested a wet hand on Luke's equally-as-wet forehead with a pensive expression.

"The wetness of his skin makes the estimation a little complex, but it would seem he has a slight fever." He said after a soft sigh.

"Well, then it's as we suspected: Luke must have caught a cold of some kind." She declared as she squinted her eyes just slightly. "But... how is that even possible? I know we did run under the rain, but it didn't feel like we were caught in the storm for that long, not long enough it would cause someone to fall sick..."

"Indeed, this is rather odd." Layton stated as he crossed one arm on his chest and rested his other hand on his chin.

As [Y/N] stared at Luke with a worried look, the Professor adopted a more reflective expression while closing his eyes.

Perhaps Luke's physical condition was already not at its best by the time the rainstorm hit. He thought to himself. After all, we awoke at dawn this morning and spent the entire day walking without having barely had any time to sit down and relax... But even then, Luke should-

"Either way, 'how' and 'why' don't matter much right now." [Y/N] spoke up, pulling him out of his thoughts. "Luke is undeniably ill, and his condition will only worsen the longer he remains drenched. The first thing we should do is dry him up a bit."

With his eyes now open, he looked in front of himself, at her, then down at the poor boy, before he nodded briefly.

"You're right." He said in agreement while he was already starting to make his way out of the room. "Wait here and watch over him as I go gather us some towels, [Y/N]."

She nodded in response, but he had already left her sight, causing her to sigh softly.

I wish Hershel would let me handle some things, instead of taking on every task by himself. She told herself with a slight frown. I would have offered to go to the bathroom to fetch a towel or two myself, but he took off before I could say even a single word...

Before she could dwell on her thoughts for too long, still standing beside the bed, he made his way back into the bedroom, holding a few towels in his arms: picking the largest one out of the stack, he took a step closer to [Y/N] and handed it over to her.

"Here, [Y/N]." He said in his usual serious tone, concealing a strong sense of worry, one she was unaware of.

"Thank you." She told him, just as seriously.

With the towel now in hand, she turned back around and leaned forward over Luke's body, then proceeded to delicately wipe his face with it, along with the rest of his wet skin. And as she did so, Layton stood behind her and opened his eyes wider, visibly surprised.

Unbeknownst to her, I had purposefully picked this towel to give her for herself... and yet her immediate instinct is to pay no attention to her own condition to take care of Luke instead.