Dracula worked quickly.
Grabbing a mug from the cupboard and a tea bag from the cabinet, he poured boiling water into the cup and mixed the two together with an adamant stirring of the spoon. A touch of Blood Beater syrup was added for sweetness, and a dash of lemon juice to give it a tangy kick. Blowing at the top of the steaming beverage, Dracula carefully cupped the concoction in his hands and made his way out of the small kitchen, flinching as the sound of yet another violent cough echoed throughout his chambers from the next room over.
He grimaced as his eyes landed upon the shivering, weakened form of his beloved, splayed upon the couch with a blanket draped atop her figure. Drac sighed in dismay. Ericka looked absolutely terrible. She was perfectly fine upon her disembarkment of The Legacy and travels to the hotel a mere few days earlier. He recalled how excited he was to show her around the hotel... and then how he had led her up to the rooftop to ask her the most important question of all. She was bright-eyed, cheery, and more than ready to start her new life with Drac. But at the moment she was anything but. Her skin was pale, even by vampire standards, and the shine in her bloodshot eyes was not at all visible. Her button nose was as red as Tinkles's favorite ball to play with, stuffed with congestion. Even her bright white curls seemed to hang in unkempt limpness on her head. It made his heart clench with pity at her state, and the man had dedicated himself into helping his sweet blood orange make a full recovery.
"Hey there, honeybat," he cooed softly, bending down to press a soft kiss at her temple. "How are you feeling?"
Ericka's response was another fit of coughing, followed by a groan. "I've had better days," she wheezed, her melodious voice reduced to nothing more than a hoarse whisper.
Drac nodded in sympathy, using his magic to adjust her pillows and prop her up. "I know, my devil chops. But you will get better soon enough. I promise." He lifted the mug up towards her. "I brought you this."
Ericka shook her head. "Not really in the mood to drink, Drac," she murmured.
"It's hot and fresh," he insisted gently. "And it will help with your cough, my love."
As if to aid in the Count's case of persuasion, the strong aroma of the tea was somehow able to break through the congestion in her nose just enough to allow her to register its scent. She inhaled deeply, savoring the blend of herbs that tickled her senses and already began to ease some of the ache in her chest. Drac watched her closely as she considered the tea and then gave a small nod. "Okay."
With a smile, Drac helped in bringing the cup to her lips, gently cradling the back of her head with one hand and tilting the beverage whilst she sipped with the other. She hummed in contentment after a few gulps, smacking her lips together and relishing the healing effect of the liquid. Slowly, Ericka allowed the tension to start dissipating from her muscles, letting them loosen as they absorbed the comforting heat and made her feel a little less miserable. Drac noticed this with much contentment, and pulled the mug away after she had downed more than half of it, wiping gently at the remnants on her lips.
"There we go," he beamed. "That should hold you over for now." He set the mug aside, making a mental note to start brewing a hot monsterball soup for her later in the evening, and then pulled out a thermometer. With Hotel Transylvania being the archaical type, the little device was nothing too fancy. It was a glass piece with red Mercury filling the cavity in the middle and ticked readings marking the temperatures on the side. "Okay, sweetheart. Open up."
Too tired to disagree, Ericka obeyed and let him slip the thermometer under her tongue, the pair awaiting the final readout and hoping it wasn't anything too bad. Drac reached out, caressing her cheek lovingly and brushing back some of her platinum strands of hair that were straying onto her face. She looked haggard, yes, but to Drac she was still beautiful. Enjoying the cool touch of his palm, Ericka leaned into the hand with a small hum, closing her eyes.
The Count couldn't help but smirk. Not at her physical distress of course, but at her striking likeness to Mavis in her youth. Vampires didn't get sick often, but Drac could clearly remember how it was for his little girl whenever the rare bout of illness would fall upon her. The last time she'd fallen sick, it was with the 47-hour troll bumps that left Mavis bed-ridden and covered in large, green warts. She had depended on her father to help her pull through, and while Drac was by no means any sort of nurse, he still managed to get her back on her feet in no time. He figured if he undertook the same type of treatment for Ericka, she'd also have no problems getting well.
Eyes drifting back to the thermometer, Drac pulled it out of her mouth once the red line stopped rising up on the bar. He held it in front of him for inspection and frowned. Drac knew that human body temperature was significantly higher than those of vampires, but the 37.7 degrees Celsius reading seemed a little too high still to be normal.
"Is it bad?" the woman inquired in response to his contemplative silence.
Drac glanced at her and sighed. "Well, you're not quite one hundred percent yet, my love, but we'll get there soon."
Ericka made a small noise that sounded like a whine and flopped back onto the pillows with a huff. "Ugghhh... I can't stand this anymore. I feel horrible..."
"I know, my sweet," Drac whispered, grabbing a cloth damp with cold water and placing it on her forehead. "And I'm so sorry that you do."
"It's not your fault, Drac," Ericka assured. Then she gave a small, wheezy chuckle. "If anything, I should have seen this coming."
Drac cocked his head at this. "What do you mean?"
"Mal debarquement syndrome," she stated matter of factly. "I came across the term in a medical book back. It doesn't happen a whole lot, but it can if you've been out at sea for a while and then come back to land. And given that I've lived out on the cruise ship my whole life..." She trailed off, Dracula understanding what she was saying. She continued. "I heard it's mostly just nausea and dizziness, but sometimes it can lead to worse symptoms... like I guess what happened to me."
Drac sat, processing all this information and indeed recalling her frequent need to take a seat or rest for a moment with the claim of having vertigo when first arriving at the hotel. He remembered how he still felt as though the swaying of the ship was under his feet even when he was back on the sturdy ground of Transylvania. And that was only for a week's cruise. He couldn't imagine the type of adjustment Ericka was willing her body to make after thirty-five years. But then, as he continued to think, another question popped into his mind.
"Wait a minute... if Van Helsing was on that boat as long as you were, why didn't he get sick?" Drac had caught more than a few glimpses of the former monster-hunter since he'd joined the hotel, too, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary with him.
Ericka shrugged. "Maybe it has to do with the fact that he's half-robot now." She gave him an amused look, and soon the two burst out laughing. Drac's cackling eventually subsided, but Ericka's gave way into more violent coughing. She clutched her ribs at the force of the hacking, with Dracula rubbing soothing circles on her back until she managed to calm herself again. Once her breathing had returned to a regular pace, he brought the mug of tea back up to her lips, quenching the dryness in her throat that the coughing had caused. She took a sip and smiled gratefully up at her zing.
"Thanks," she mumbled around the rim of her mug.
"Don't mention it, love," he purred, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger once she'd finished sipping and bringing her mouth forward to meet his. Rather than kiss back, she muffled a protest and quickly pushed him back.
"Mmmph! MmDrac! No!" Ericka exclaimed. "I'm going to get you sick, sweetheart!"
Drac pouted. "I can't kiss my fiance?"
"Not on the lips yet, honeyfangs," she told him sternly. "Or else you're going to be ending up with a sore throat."
The Count sulked, knowing she was right. "Okay," he relented.
Ericka's expression softened and she gently took his hand in hers, interlacing her slender fingers with his.
"Hey," she breathed, "if it's any consolation, you're doing a much better job at this care thing than my great-grandfather ever did."
He brightened a little. "Yeah?"
She snorted. "Heck yeah! He just threw fishmen in to help get me cured - and all they knew how to do was administer spoonfuls of fish oil."
Drac scrunched his nose. "Eww..."
"Yeah, you said it," Ericka agreed, shuddering at the memory. "It did its job, but it was awful... I can still taste it!"
Dracula laughed and leaned his forehead against hers. "Well, I promise you that the only kind of spooning you'll get from me is going to be much, much sweeter than that."
Before she could question it, Drac removed his shoes and popped himself up on the couch, adjusting her body so that her back was tucked comfortably like a plush puzzle piece against his front. His arms wrapped around her waist and his cheek fell at her shoulder, nuzzling into her neck affectionately. Ericka gasped delightfully at his proximity, and placed her hands atop his arms, nestling further against his chest.
"I bet you like this more, hmmm?" he prompted teasingly.
Ericka giggled. "Yeah. Just don't get too carried away with my neck, there," she warned, enticing him further by tilting her head and exposing it more.
"You drive a hard bargain, my love," he answered, pressing his nose into the curve and inhaling deeply. "But I will try my best."
"Don't try, do," she retorted playfully. "Or else I might actually have to go back to the fish oil."
Drac paused. "Oh, please tell me you're joking, sweetheart."
Ericka snickered. "Yeah, I am. Why would I need the fish oil to make me feel better when you're already doing so well curing me?" She didn't say anything else after that, her lips occupying the mug's contents again, and Drac's own lips remaining occupied with a smug, self-satisfied smile.