Despite all that had occurred, and all those memories that still clutched at both of their memories, Sterling was nearly surprised to find Henry in such high spirits. Despite his weakened state, he seemed as prideful as ever of his physic or the way Sterling had so willingly dropped to his knees countless times before to please his that very form beside him. It was peculiar how he could remember that, those simple images so bringing a blush to his features as he helped Henry back into the comfort of their apartment. The couch had never been such a welcomed sight before that singular moment. Although their movement was slow, he allowed his companion to collapse upon that grey leather, the man gingerly covering his lover's form with the same blanket he'd so tucked around him in those hours he'd been sick upon this very sofa but the day before. How quickly things had changed....and too how utterly exhausting it all was. Sterling watched as his lover nearly instantly lost to unconsciousness - his body clearly entirely drained from the transformation. The young warlock himself stumbled to his own bed, collapsing just as quickly between those warm sheets as he too let sleep overcome him.

It was nearly lunch time by the time he awoke, far before Henry himself did. He took the time alone to check on the man, his fingertips gingerly brushing across Henry's forehead to ensure that fever that had so taken him the previous evening remained gone. He knew it was a product of the shift and yet, still, he couldn't help the worry that so gripped him. It was only once he'd reassured himself that Henry was indeed fine that Sterling let himself care for his own needs - the warlock showering, dressing and stepping temporarily out the apartment only to fetch them something for dinner. Sterling was all too pleased when he returned to the apartment as still and quiet as it had been when he left. That chicken was immediately placed upon the skillet, twice baked mashed potatoes delicately prepared and shoved in the oven and whilst it all so sizzled and cooked, Sterling found himself settling once again upon that balcony that he'd taken up a sentry position upon just the previous night. A warm cup of tea so steaming between his hands. A soft breath left his lips as his bright blue eyes trailed over the western skyline before the quiet sound of shifting on leather behind him drew his attention. Sterling turned, making his way back into the living room, "Good morning you." He uttered softly, "How are you feeling?"