Summary: Shepard doesn't like to put ill crew in the crossfire, so when James shows symptoms of the cold running rampant through the crew, Feign gives him time to recover.

a/n: Inspired by a question from dustierhoades (find the answer here) about how Feign and James are when they are sick.

Rhinoviral Respite

-1-

Where humans gather in vast numbers, it can be hard to avoid colds. The refugee settlement in the docks suffered such an outbreak and, since a great deal of the crew visited those areas regularly, it was no real surprise that the Normandy got its own mini outbreak. Or so Feign reasoned as she looked over her crew. She'd already dismissed Williams from the mission for looking like death on toast. Vega's wet sniffle as he latched his greaves made her eyes narrow.

"What?" he asked, his voice sounding a touch froggier than normal.

"You're sick."

"Nah. I'm fine."

Feign studied him. Glassy eyes, redness around his sinuses, chapped lips, breathing through his mouth—the symptoms all added up too cold in her estimation.

"EDI," she called, chin tipping up and to the right while keeping her eyes locked on James. "Need you in the cargo bay, a-sap."

"Yes, Shepard."

James' look went petulant for a moment, while Garrus merely continued his load out given his immunity to the virus plaguing the human crew.

"Commander?" James argued.

Feign crossed her arms. She wasn't arguing this with him and from the tight flex in his jaw he knew it too.

"I'm fine," he added for good measure, sitting to unbuckle all the armor he'd just clipped on.

She didn't say anything more, though she did take a step, lay her hand on his shoulder, and give it a gentle squeeze. Her fingers brushed over his neck as she continued past him toward the shuttle.

-2-

James hated being left behind, not only because it sucked but because he wouldn't be there if things got hairy. He trusted the others, especially Scars. That turian impressed him, and he had Shepard's back.

Remembering those times when he was sick as a child, James confiscated several bottles orange juice and chugged them back to back.

"What was it feed a cold and starve the flu?" Cortez asked as he passed through the small kitchen toward the refrigerator.

"No idea."

Steve turned and looked at him. "Well, aren't you in a charming mood? Guess you're one of those who get grumpy when their sick."

"I'm not sick," James argued, lifting another bottle of OJ to his lips.

"Puffy eyes, red nose—"

James sneezed, which left him groaning.

"Oh yeah, you're healthy as a horse," Cortez noted.

"Ugh. I'm fine. And I'm not grumpy."

"Mmhmm. Sleep it off, Mr. Vega. Might help."

That itch in the back of his sinuses cued James to the next sneeze, which he buried in his elbow. It was followed quickly by two more and left his head throbbing. He finished off the last bottle of juice and put it in the recycler.

This sucks, he thought coming to the realization that maybe he was a little sick.

-3-

Feign noted James' absence from the cargo bay when she returned. Nor had he been in the mess or the bridge. After giving Joker a new heading, she eventually chalked up her search as failed the commander made her way to her quarters. The room was dark except for the lights in the populated fish tank, which bubbled in a soothing manner. The uneven squeak of Rage's wheel stopped when she rounded the corner. The little fuzz ball put his little paws on the glass and stretched upward as if asking her to let him out.

She was about answer when she heard the sniffle and a wordless grumble. Leaning away, a faint smile graced her lips. James was curled up on her couch, fast asleep. That's where you disappeared to. "Not now, buddy," she told Rage rubbing her finger back and forth over the glass.

Setting her helmet on the edge of the desk, she pulled off her gauntlets as well. She gathered the blanket off the bed and carried it over to the sofa, draping it around and over him as lightly as possible so as not to wake him. Her lips brushed his temple, though she couldn't be sure why she'd done it. At least there's no fever, she thought.

Her steps were as quiet as she could manage when she retreated to the bathroom. Even with the door closed between the two rooms, Feign still took great care to be as quiet as possible when removing her armor. It was not a task she was practiced in.

-4-

Shifting to his back, James stretched his legs out for a moment. Then he flopped to his other side, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. His restlessness awakened his mind, causing him to realize he hadn't fallen asleep with a blanket.

His eyes opened to the sight of her—perched on the far end of the other couch with one leg propped up on the table as she poured over a datapad leaning against it.

"Sleeping beauty awakens," she teased with a smile.

"Thank you for the blanket," he replied, sitting up. His head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, and his mouth wasn't much better off. When he smacked his lips, Feign leaned forward and offered him her mug. Taking a sip his mouth soured and he looked into it. "You're drinking juice?" He had expected water or black coffee, maybe tequila.

"Sneezed planet-side," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. Her lips curled with mischief. "I blame you."

"Me?"

Her brow cocked upward.

James did not think of all the reasons he shouldn't, instead he darted forward, grabbed her ankle and pulled her toward him. The datapad clattered to the floor and Feign's laughter pealed around them as he leaned over her. Dios, she is beautiful when she laughs, he thought just before kissing her. Any sane person might have pushed a sick lover off of them, but Feign's arms draped over his shoulders as she threw caution to the wind.

A tickle in James' throat caused him to break the kiss. Thankfully he did. He tried to bury his face in his shoulder as the coughing fit wracked him.

"See? Had to be you."

Those words rang in his head, which throbbed from the pressure of the coughs. Feign rubbed his back until the fit ended. Then she took his face in strong hands and pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead. "You should rest, James."

The tone of her words struck him dumb a second. The usual hint of command was there, but there was more, something softer, affectionate. He wanted to hear it again. And got his wish when she moved, slipping out from beneath him.

Feign grabbed the blanket from the other couch and held her hand out to him. "C'mon."

James slid his hand in hers, hoping this wasn't all some crazed fever dream.