So… while your poor little author here was at home sick with the flu, she got an entertaining review from her favorite person at the moment (( xmarkersarecoolx )). And that led me to the idea for this story. About the flu. Creative, aren't I? Sigh.

Oh, and, for the record, for the point of this story, demigods can get sick. I don't know if that's true or not, but this is my story(:

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Annabeth lay in bed, coughing. Her eyes were drooping, her head was spinning, and her nose was running. To put it simply, she felt like crap. Shivering, she yanked the blanket back up, draping it around her shoulders. Footsteps sounded in the hallway, causing her to groggily roll in the direction of the door, blinking as a knock sounded. She coughed. Another knock.

"Come in," she croaked miserably, and the door swung open. She squeaked when she saw who it was and pulled the covers over her head.

"Go. Away," she notified him, rolling to face the wall for good measure. He chuckled. More footsteps. And the blankets were gone.

Annabeth rolled onto her back, furious; there was fire in her eyes, despite their tiredness. "Give. Them. Back," she commanded, too weak to grab back at them. He laughed again. She growled, but then coughed, shivering. He looked down at her sympathetically, eyes wide. The covers were back. She snuggled deep down into them, her head spinning.

"Um… Annabeth?" He spoke softly, like her didn't want to anger her further. She grunted. "I, uh, I brought you some soup." She smiled into the blanket, feeling happy for the first time in three days. "It's chicken noodle." No response. "And my mom made it, if that helps."

She pulled the covers back. "Is it blue?"

He grinned. "Maybe."

"Bring it to me?" He handed her an open thermos, steam curling out of the top.

"Thanks." She slowly reached for the spoon in his outstretched hand, but groaned when she moved.

"Do you—do you need me to… feed it to you?" He asked hesitantly, knowing that his proposal could easily set her off. There was a sigh from Annabeth.

"Sure, Seaweed Brain. But only this once." He smiled, dipping the spoon into the broth.

"Open up! Here comes the train. Whoo! Whoo!" He chanted as he neared her mouth. She didn't open up. Instead, the look on her face was of pure repulsion.

"Don't you ever, ever do that again. Got it?"

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Yep, that's what you get from a sick girl. Yay. Not. Ugh. I'm gonna go eat some soup, too…