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Mila's eyes were squinted at her too-bright phone screen (despite the fact that the brightness is turned all the way down). All the lights in the room are turned off, and her head is being smothered by a pillow. A blanket drapes over half of her body.
Sara is in the bathroom, complaining about hotel shampoos or something. Mila isn't really paying attention, but the sweet tone of Sara's distant-sounding voice lulls her headache slightly.
They're staying overnight after a competition, and it was Mila's fucking luck that she caught a cold right after her set.
Mila gives up looking at her phone when she scrolls past a boring photo of some mountaintop, and tosses it lethargically at a random spot on the bed. She rolls onto her back and throws an arm over her eyes, her chest feeling tight. Used tissues are piling over in the small trash can, and a few moments later Mila adds another, her nose burning in one side and flowing like a waterfall in the other.
Mila hears the bathroom door shut and assumes Sara has closed herself inside, but when she hears footsteps getting closer she sighs.
"I'm fucking sick," Mila says when Sara drapes herself onto her girlfriend.
"We're both fucking sick." Sara's reply is muffled into Mila's shirt. "Shut up and let me cuddle you."
Mila snorts and makes a dramatic movement of wrapping her arms around Sara. Her hair is damp against Mila's tank top. Sara makes a content noise and snuggles further, smiling brightly and crawling up higher on Mila's body until her chin is resting on her chest.
Mila looks down. Sara looks beautiful. Even when her nose is runny and her voice is hoarse from sickness.
She leans over to grab Sara a tissue, and tosses it at her face. "Wipe your gross nose."
"It's sexy," Sara replies, but blows her nose nonetheless. "Aren't you turned on?"
"Oh yeah. I can barely hear your voice because you're so sick. Your face is covered in snot. I'm so turned on."
Sara laughs, and when she laughs, she does it with her whole body. She tosses her head back, she snorts, and her shoulders shake. When she looks back, Mila is smiling. She reaches up and tucks a strand of Sara's damp hair behind her ear. The ear she brushes against is warm.
"You're gay," Sara says, blushing, sporting a goofy smile.
"What, you thought I was a hetero? " Mila scoffs, and stretches her arms over her head. She tries her best to look sexy, but the way she sneezes and snot shoots from her nose is anything but.
Sara doesn't even react, or turn away in disgust. She smiles, again (Mila can never get enough of her smiles), and takes another tissue. Mila makes an attempt to grab it, but Sara just leans down and wipes it for her. It should be disgusting, it probably is, but it seems Sara doesn't mind. She just hums a little to herself until she's wiped it all away from her face.
She throws the tissue in the overflowing trash can and kisses Mila.
The kiss doesn't last for very long. Before Mila can throw her arms around Sara and kiss her back senseless, Sara is pulling away and hovering over Mila, grinning and laughing to herself.
"Would I kiss you if I thought you were a hetero?"
Mila blinks, and then laughs.
"I guess not."
They kiss again.
The next day, they're even sicker than before.
"You're an idiot," Yakov complains.