Title: Gift for Faesone 2007

Author: tarotgal

Fandom: The Princess Bride

Rating: G

Pairing: Westley/Buttercup

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their world. Please don't sue me. I'm just having fun and not making any money.

Summary: Early into their relationship, Westley comes down with a cold.

Notes: Happy holidays, fae!

By anyone's standards, Buttercup's parents did not have a happy marriage. Their squabbles were numerous and never-ending. They fought about the food, which was never cooked right. They fought about the farm, which was never run right. They fought about fighting, which was the worst kind of fighting of all. When one was actually honest about something, the other used it as ammunition.

Buttercup didn't much like their arguing, but she was used to it. Which was why she thought nothing of the teasing she did and harsh tones she used on the Farm Boy. And he, being both the help and an orphan, had no similar reply to give her. 'As you wish' was all he had ever said. At first.

After their declarations of undying love for one another, it was difficult to shut the two of them up. Buttercup still teased, and Westley still followed orders. But every word, every look, every touch were heavy with affection and kindness. More often then not, however, they talked about themselves- everything that they hadn't said to each other since Westley had come to the farm and Buttercup had been old enough to notice his presence. They sat for hours on the fence, watching the cows and talking. They brushed her horse twice a day, whether or not Horse needed it, and talked. They sat up on the big hill at the end of the farm overlooking the village and talked.

So on the day when Westley barely talked, Buttercup could hardly fail to notice. "Westley?" Buttercup said, walking gracefully from one side of him to the other, her hand sliding from his shoulder, to the back of his neck, and to his other shoulder. The folds of her dress moved around her in the light breeze as she walked. "Ohhhh Farm Boy?"

He smiled and tossed another handful of feed to the chickens scrambling around at their feet. "Yes?"

She wanted to ask why he was so quiet. Then she wanted to ask why he looked so tired. Then she wanted to ask if she had done something wrong to cause either of these things. But, instead, she said, "I'm planning to have a picnic lunch on the hill. Won't you come with me?" She touched his neck, his cheek. Her lips were so close that she could feel the warmth of her breath as it struck his skin. "Or have you more important things to do?"

"I need to muck out the stables," he said, naming one of her least favorite activities. "Then I have an errand to run in town for your father."

"Oh," she nodded and took a step back. "I see. Well, perhaps we will see each other later? I'll be going on my afternoon ride. We can talk afterwards."

He smiled even more brightly and gave her a nod. "As you wish."

She laughed and headed inside for lunch instead. Her parents were in fine form already for the day when she went inside. Buttercup saved something from being burnt in the oven, but it looked so unappetizing that perhaps she should not have bothered so. Buttercup fixed herself a small lunch and had some sun tea she had set out on the front stoop that morning.

Her mother eyed her as she poured a glass. "You should take a glass of that over to the Farm Boy," she said. "I'm sure he would be grateful for a little refreshment."

Unable to stay silent, her father commented needlessly. "He doesn't need tea, dear. Water'll do him just fine."

"I just thought it would be nice," her mother replied. "Is that so awful?"

"The fact that you have to go around putting thoughts in her head is. The girl can think for herself."

"Naturally she can. As can I. It was just a suggestion."

"A bad one."

"A good one. The boy does a lot around here."

"Course he does. I've already said that when I die at the ripe old age of whatever I'll be when I'm dead, I'll leave an acre of the farm for him in my will. He can do what he likes with that. And if he wants to make the biggest jar of sun tea ever, then he'll be within his rights to do so."

Buttercup stifled a giggle at the image of Westley tending to such a thing the way he did the crops and the farm animals. But as she had long ago refused to take sides in her parents' arguments, and her parents like it that way as they both cared for her very much, she tried her best not to really laugh. "Thank you," she said, addressing them both. She took a sip of her drink, and agreed that Westley might indeed like a glass. "But he isn't around at the moment, anyway. Father sent him to town on an errand."

"I never did," her father said indignantly.

It registered with Buttercup as a bit of shock, but she covered her emotions with another sip of her drink. Then she spoke softly. "I'm sorry. I must have misunderstood him."

Now, more than ever, she was concerned. She was worried, confused, and quite a bit annoyed. Westley had not only been behaving strangely but lying to her about how he was to spend his time? She finished eating as quickly as possible then went straight to the barn to find that Westley wasn't there at all. She checked his other usual places- the pasture, the fields, his hovel- but she could not find him.

Adding a small measure of anger to her other emotions, she saddled her horse and took off for a longer ride than usual.

~ * ~

Westley woke up coughing, and winced as pain seized his head from his temples to the back of his neck. Several moments later, he realized it wasn't just his head that ached; it was his entire body. He put his hand to his forehead to keep the room from spinning as he opened his eyes. He was certain he must be running a temperature, because he felt equally burning hot and freezing cold at the same time. He usually slept in very little, so pulled on trousers and a long-sleeved shirt. The extra items of clothing did not help, so he wrapped the blanket around himself.

The rooster was crowing, and he knew he should get up. However, he sat on the edge of his cot, wrapped in his blanket, trying to compose himself. He had a bit of a candle left, and, even though it was dim outside and the sun was on the rise, he lit it. He did not need to read, but he held his hands up in front of the flame, warming them. After he did his morning chores, he would build a fire for breakfast and his whole hovel would be warm. Right now, he just needed a little something to get him going.

Suddenly, he inhaled sharply and snapped forward. "yihhhCHShhhhhhh! Uh!" He cupped his hand to his nose afterwards, surprised. Then he noticed the sneeze had caused his candle to go out. He blinked at it, then laughed. He should have known better, but it was a bit funny. It also got him up and moving for the day. After scrounging up a handkerchief, he set to work for the day.

He sniffled his way through feeding the animals, milking the cows, and collecting eggs. He saved himself out two eggs for breakfast and snuck into the house to leave the rest for the family he worked for. Westley pinched his nose and held his breath to keep from sneezing or coughing while inside. The worst thing would be Buttercup seeing or hearing him like this. It was beyond his wildest dreams that she had grown to love him even one tenth of how much he loved her. In the state he was in now, he was certain to scare her away forever.

Westley was nothing if not a hard worker. He managed to get his morning chores done in near to record time, despite having to stop periodically to sneeze and blow his nose conservatively. Once in front of his fire with eggs bubbling in the frying pan, however, he felt free to let loose. He shivered and tried not to cough so it would not strain his voice or scratch his throat. Warm water was a good enough remedy for that, and he wrapped his blanket around his shoulders again while he breakfasted. Since he had been so efficient already and they were just past harvest time, his boss wouldn't notice his absence for a while.

That was especially good today. His breath hitched and he didn't even bother with his handkerchief, certain he would need it later and wanting to save it. "yihSchhhhhhh! IhhkShhhhhhh!" Letting them out so unrestrainedly let him smile with a bit of relief. He took a moment to bask in the lovely, relaxing glow of the fire. He rubbed his hands in front of the flames and sighed deeply. This was nice. If he had his way, he would stay in his room for the whole course of the illness and worry about nothing but his cold. But an hour after his breakfast found him out doing more chores. Work was never actually ever finished on a farm.

He painted the side of the barn, trying to get it done well before noon so that the afternoon sun would be able to dry it. He dunked the paintbrush in the can and rubbed his nose against his wrist. He painted a long stroke of red against the wood and coughed lightly to himself. He ducked into the barn and fell back against the wall, burying his nose in his sleeve. "IHShhh! HihShhh! Eh-ehh-HEHShhhhh!" His head was spinning and suddenly he found himself sitting down on a bail of hay.

There was absolutely no way he could keep this up today. With luck, he could avoid the boss for a day or two. What he worried about most was that he would never be able to avoid Buttercup for so long. He would have to think of something. And he would have to think of it quickly.

He managed to avoid her for another hour. He headed around the house to inspect the garden when he saw her coming towards the barn. And then he went to let the cows out to graze in the other fields when he caught a glimpse of her near the gardens. Westley was out feeding the chickens when Buttercup finally caught up to him. He stood, silent and stalwart, throwing handfuls of feed to the ground. He feared more than a word or two would make him cough. And any words not carefully spoken would cause his stuffy nose to reveal itself.

"Westley?" she asked. He tried to hide his face from her by turning casually to one side, as though the chickens to his right were more interesting. However, she walked around to his other side. "Ohhhh Farm Boy?"

He smiled. He loved when she called him that, still. He wanted to drop all the feed at once and take her in his arms. He wanted to hold her close and tell her what was bothering him. He wanted to tell her because maybe she would be all right with him sneezing and she would be able to do something to make him feel a little better. Except, that wasn't how it worked between them. He was the strong one, the noble one. He was the one who was to take care of her, not the other way around. So he said nothing and stuck to his plan.

"I'm planning to have a picnic lunch on the hill. Won't you come with me?" she asked so sweetly that, even though he wasn't hungry, he very nearly accepted. Her touch drove him wild. "Or have you more important things to do?"

Nothing was more important than her. He would do anything for her. Anything... except let her see him all sneezy and miserable. "I need to muck out the stables," he said, knowing for certain that would grant him much-needed privacy. "Then I have an errand to run in town for your father." With any luck, she would not come looking for him until later or, even better, she would think it too late and not look for him until tomorrow.

"Oh," she nodded and backed away from him. Westley hated seeing her so disappointed, but he had no choice. Not to mention that his nose was starting to tickle. It wasn't a sneeze yet, but he was glad that the conversation would soon be over. "I see. Well, perhaps we will see each other later? I'll be going on my afternoon ride. We can talk afterwards."

Westley tried to put on a bright smile for her and gave her a reassuring nod. Then he spoke the words he knew would make her smile back. "As you wish."

As soon as she left, he did go to muck out the stables. Buttercup would notice later when she went to ride and he did not want her to suspect anything. Then he hid himself in the corner of the stables and coughed into the crook of his arm until there were no coughs left in him. His body felt weak, exhausted, and it was all he could do to grab one of the horse blankets and stumble over to the equipment shed.

Buttercup was the sweetest and most beautiful woman Westley had ever known. However, she was not especially imaginative. If she were to go looking for him, she would never think to look for him in the equipment shed. It was filled with tools and sacks of soil. But there was just enough room for him to hunker down and curl up for an afternoon nap. "IhhKShhh! Yihshihh!" Assuming he could stop sneezing long enough.

~ * ~

Sleep was not so easy to come by. Buttercup tossed and turned in her bed and Westley was utterly unable to fall asleep in his. Butterscotch was still worried, and Westley was still sick.

Buttercup got up from bed, thinking she would feel more reassured if she could just see that nothing was wrong over at Westley's. However, she saw a faint glow coming from his hovel and smoke rising from the chimney. It was late at night and completely unprecedented, but Buttercup quickly dressed warmly and crossed the farm. She knocked on his door and received no answer. So she knocked again and followed it with, "Westley, you are either pretending to be asleep or your hovel is on fire. Either way, you're awake and going to open the door."

Westley slowly got up from in front of the fire, shrugging off his blanket and rubbing his nose dry with the cuff of his sleeve on the way to the door. He cleared his throat and opened the door. "Why are you here?"

Instead of answering, she reached up, touching her hand to his forehead. She brushed back the hair falling in his face. They looked into each other's eyes. "You have a fever," she told him. "And... must be a cold?"

He nodded back and hung his head slightly, as though embarrassed. "A little ode." He coughed, mostly holding it in and keeping it to himself. His body shook and after that he shivered. His whole body felt achy and weak and he hated for her to see him like this.

"Then I would like to come in."

He shook his head. "Buttercub, you really should't be here."

"And you really should not be standing here in the cold of the night like this. You will only get worse."

Westley stood aside and let her in. Westley invited herself to sit on the stool in front of the fire. Then she picked up the thick knit blanket she found on the floor and patted the bed. He curled up on the bed, beneath the blanket. It only took a minute for his nose to start tickling. He sniffled and cupped his hand to his face. After a day of sneezing, he had no willpower left. "Yihhhh... ihhhHihchhh! IhTchhhh!" His hand was wet and so was the lower half of his face. And he still felt another sneeze coming on. "hhehhh... hihh-IHTshhhhhhhh!"

Buttercup looked at him sympathetically. She pulled a small, cloth handkerchief out from somewhere and held it out to him. "Bless you, Darling. Poor thing. You really do have a bad case of the sneezes, don't you?" She stroked his cheek as he blew his nose messily. Then he relaxed. She wasn't going anywhere. If anything, she was growing closer to him.

"Stoke the fire," he requested, bending his arm and resting his head on it like a pillow. "Add stay here to talk with be a while?"

She smiled sweetly at him and used a stock to carefully poke the largely unburned log which sat in the hearth. The flames leapt and the fire crackled. "As you wish," she said.