If Sheldon could pick, he'd never get sick. This, however, was his trouble, and the sickness rained down upon him not in a light mist, but so much more than that. With Leonard away, Sheldon was a miserable mess.
He didn't know why he didn't just call Amy. Well, he did in the back of his mind. He didn't want her getting sick as well. Whether he was in love with her or not this fact would never change.
That's why he refused when Penny told him to call his girlfriend. It wasn't as if picking up his phone and dialing her number were that hard, although, seeing as how he could barely talk, it would be anyway. His neighbor sighed and, despite his protests, called for Amy's assistance.
Leaving abruptly, Sheldon found himself huddled in a ball on his bed exactly fifteen minutes later. Just because he was sick did not mean his brain functioned any less, and the number one thing one needs when they're sick is sleep.
Another thirty seconds later and his apartment door softly clicked open.
To make his point, Sheldon purposefully let out a few quiet coughs which quickly escalated into yet another hacking attack totally unplanned. Amy heard this and scurried to the other side of his door, and the moment she knocked he calmed down considerably.
"Not now Amy, I'm sick." he called in a strained, failing voice. Most of his words he was sure would die in the air before they even reached Amy's ears, but to his surprise she spoke gently through the door more so than he had heard in a long time.
"I know you're sick, that's why I'm here. I'm here to take care of you."
"Well, I don't need your help." he said weakly, unconvincingly. He could practically hear Amy roll her eyes on the other side of his door.
"Come on, please, Sheldon?" she was practically begging.
"But... I'm sick," he protested, feeling a familiar jolt on his stomach. Wordlessly he shot up out of bed and threw his door open, without a doubt startling Amy. Running to the bathroom, he barely made it before expelling any and all his bodily fluids out into what he hoped was the toilet.
The only things Sheldon heard then was his groaning and the quiet pitter patter of Amy's feet as she followed him silently into the bathroom.
"Now will you let me take care of you?" she asked. Sheldon felt her put a caring hand on his shoulder and wasn't sure if he should let her keep it there, but in the end his body decided for him as yet another round of vomiting emerged.
Having his face in the toilet was terrible. The experience was only slightly better with Amy Farrah Fowler running her fingers along his back soothingly.
"Thank you," he mumbled while grasping the toilet as if this were a life or death experience. "But I'm still sick."
"And I'm still here," she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice.
Sheldon wondered for a moment if telling her to leave would change her mind at all. She seemed pretty set on taking care of him. Struggling up, he went to the sink and cleaned his mouth so he could properly give Amy the smile she deserved.
"Is that soup?" he asked her, his voice no better. He tried to look reluctant as he asked, to let Amy know she was only there because she wanted to be, and any consequence was on her, but something about the gleam in her eye made him stop and smile, yet again.
"It's your favorite." she told him excitedly.
Not sure what to do, Sheldon nodded. Amy took the soup into the kitchen and silently prepared it with him watching, and neither of them spoke a word until he ate his entire first bowl.
"Did you like it?"
"I loved it."
Sheldon coughed at the surprised sound of how terrible his voice sounded still. Amy was right behind him, her loving hands once again on his back, and Sheldon found himself relaxing. Her touch was almost as healing as any medication he could find.
"Where did you get it?" he asked after a few moments.
"I made it,"
Sheldon was stunned into silence at her confession. Her soup was even better than Meemaw's. While he debated on telling her this, another coughing fit arose, this one coupled with dizziness, and Amy helped his helpless self to the couch.
"Would you like anything, Sheldon?" Amy asked. Thinking for a minute, Sheldon felt foolish and ashamed. Not only did he want Amy to hug him, but he wanted her by his side and he had promised himself he wouldn't get her sick.
What a dilemma.
"Uhmm... no thank you." he spat out, his voice fading rapidly. Amy looked at him with a raised eyebrow and shifted closer to him.
"Are you sure? You seemed like you were thinking about something." he could tell she was keeping her distance despite having moved closer to him. That was one thing he loved about her, she respected his personal space.
"No... not entirely." he admitted, his eyes locked to hers in sincerity. "I don't want you to get sick, yet I wouldn't mind if you were to, say... hug me..." he gulped. "For, you know, healing purposes."
He knew he was being serious, but Amy helped him to loosen up a bit when she giggled at his words. She looked up at him with happy, energetic eyes and yet maintained the same compassionate composure as she replied.
"Sheldon, there's nothing wrong with wanting a hug when you're sick. I don't mind getting sick taking care of you."
He looked back at Amy confusedly. His woman really was crazy sometimes.
"Come here," she said with arms wide open. Sheldon considered it for a moment before giving in, moving into her arms and relaxing more than he had in twenty four hours.
Amy's warmth seemed to fill Sheldon even better than the soup did and suddenly, he found himself almost asleep. Before he totally passed out, a whisper escaped his lips.
"I'm glad you convinced me to let you take care of me."
He felt Amy lower her gaze to him. "I didn't convince you to do anything," she said in her sing song, calming voice. "You came to the conclusion yourself."
Sheldon nodded and yawned. He was done talking, but that didn't mean he wanted either of them to move. In fact, he fell asleep in Amy's arms exactly twenty heart beats later, when he was sure he had given her as many butterflies as she had given him by just holding him close.