Disclaimer: The characters, and the premise upon which they are based, do not belong to me.
Author's Note: The "typos" for Angie are best explained by plugging your nose while reading her dialogue. Trust me; you sound funny this way, but you'll get the picture. Regardless, I wrote this to practice my one shots and to make a friend feel better while battling with her "dupid cold." Enjoy, folks!
P.S. - Not to make you all jealous or anything, but Louis Ferreira just favorited one of my tweets the other day. Heck-freaking-yeah! I kind of hope he knows how fantastic he is, but I don't want it to go to his head :)
P.P.S. - I'm in the middle of some longer pieces, too. I'm trying to get ahead in those enough that I can stay ahead of your requests. I've also toyed with some "sequels" of sorts to some of my one shots because apparently you want them. I try to listen to you guys, I promise.
"Oh by God, I'b dying," Angie groaned into the phone; wedging the device between her ear and her shoulder as she massages her temples. It does no good as the pulsing in her head only seems to worsen. The congestion fogging her head makes it hard to speak clearly, let alone breathe.
Chuckling lightly at her partner's dramatics, Oscar genuinely feels awful about her discomfort. "You're not dying, Angie," he replies as he closes another case folder and sets it atop the growing pile to his right. "When was the last time you took something?" he questions, knowing the answer before he even asks.
"Uh -,"
"Eat anything lately?" he continues his interrogation. Glancing up to see Lucas sliding into his coat, Oscar dropped his gaze to the small clock at the corner of his computer screen. Quitting time, he noted, as he looks back up to catch the young man offering a small wave. Nodding his head in acknowledgment, he slides the folders back into the drawer and sets about gathering his belongings. "Angie...?"
At the beginning of the week, both partners had agreed to sacrifice a weekend to come in and catch up on mountains of paperwork. Sacrifice being an interesting description considering neither had much in the way of personal lives as of late. Unfortunately, Angie had fallen ill towards the end of the week. Instead, Lucas offered to come in for a couple hours once Oscar forbade her from entering the precinct over the weekend; issuing strict orders to stay home and rest.
Emitting a muffled moan in response, Angie mumbled an unintelligible threat back to her partner as he continued to pester her. Pulling her comforter from the bed, and paying no attention to the to the disheveled sheets that string along behind her for a moment, Angie wraps the thick fabric around her tightly as she shuffles into the living room.
Flopping down on the couch without ceremony, she huffs a large sigh as her phone escapes her grasp and lands on the floor with a thud. "Dambit!" she hisses in frustration. Grabbing the device, she brings it back to her ear in time to her partner's soft voice as he finished giving her orders.
"Will you please take some medicine in the mean time?" he asks with concern; unaware that Angie has missed the first half of his plan. Making his way out to the precinct's parking lot, he wraps up the conversation with a quick, "I've got to go for now, but I'll see you later," and ends the call.
Pulling the phone away from her ear, Angie frowns in annoyance at his abrupt departure. Tossing it back onto the coffee table in front of her, she let her eyes fall closed in exhaustion as she wills her headache to disappear. Before succumbing to exhaustion once again, Angie's last coherent thought reminds her once again that she still feels like death warmed over, so she really should reconsider taking something.
Awakening sometime later to darkness, Angie attempts to reorient herself when she notices a figure sitting opposite of her. Blinking through the confusion, she squints in an attempt to focus until the shadowy blur takes on the more familiar shape of her partner; casually dressed in jeans and a woolen grey sweater.
Tugging his sleeves up to his elbows, Oscar offers her a soft smile as he tugs a stray corner of the comforter down from where it obscures Angie's face. Reaching towards her with his other hand, he gently tucked a tuft of blonde curls behind her ear. Then, he lays the back of his hand across the clammy expanse of her forehead. "You've got a pretty good fever, Ang."
Attempting to sit up, Angie struggled for a moment against his touch until she finally resigns her effort, sinking weakly into the soft cushions beneath her. "I'b find," she mumbles unconvincingly, words thick with congestion. Forehead damp with eyes glossy, Angie watches his movements through half-lidded eyes as she struggles to stay awake.
"That may be stretching the truth a bit," Oscar throws back at her. Shaking a couple tablets into his palm with a flick of his wrist, he holds them out for her to take. Carefully gripping the mug by his side, Oscar helps steady Angie's hand when he notices her trembling fingers. "Tea's hot, so be careful."
Apprehensive, Angie curiously inspects the mug in front of her before giving in as she cautiously takes a sip. Fighting back a grimace as the warm liquid slides down her tightened throat, she swallows carefully before passing the mug back to Oscar without word. Settling back into the warmth of the couch, Angie pulls her knees up to her chest as she curls up onto her side; suddenly appearing very small amidst the large cushions as she only takes up a portion.
"I hade being sick," she whispered quietly; an edge of her voice creeping towards a whine.
Settling his elbows on his knees, Oscar slowly runs his hand up and down her back; heat radiating from her feverish skin beneath her sweatshirt. "With plenty of rest, you'll be better in no time. Hungry?"
"Dot really," she responds; already feeling more at ease as his gentle touch sweeps back and forth in time with her labored breathing. "I'b hod, bud I'b cold, doo," she mumbles tiredly.
Nodding understandingly, Oscar stills his ministrations for a moment to sweep her hair back once more so that she didn't have to attempt to breathe through it. "Try to get a little more sleep, and then -,"
"I'b dot tired!" Angie protests weakly, punctuating her outburst with a heaving cough. As her coughing subsides, Angie sinks deeper into the cushions with her eyes closed. "I swear I'b not," she mumbles quietly.
"Then you can try to eat something later," Oscar finished softly, smiling lightly as her fidgeting stills. Watching as her chest rises and falls less erratically than before, he knows her consciousness has faded as her breathing evens out.
The next time Angie awakens, she's feeling only mildly better; yet embracing the positive effects of the medicine soothing the aching joints cramped beneath her. Carefully stretching out her long legs, her eyes flit across the ceiling as they adjust to the muted television being the only source of light. As she stretches as quietly as possible while listening for sounds of her partner puttering about, Angie notices her chest feels heavy with a gentle weight settled across it.
Tensing, Angie slowly rolls her head to see Oscar's head above her own; left arm propping his head up from the end of the couch, while his right arm is slung across her to help secure her in place. Looking closer, Angie realizes that Oscar has fallen into a light sleep while hugging her to his abdomen to keep her from falling.
"Os - Oscar," she croaks out into the dimly lit room.
Jerking in his half-sleep state, he grips her to him tighter and then releases as his eyelids blink open. Peering down at her, he lifts his arm to scrub a hand across his face, and Angie notices immediately that she misses the warmth. Buried amidst a thick sweater and down comforter, Angie's struck by how the fact that she could even feel the slight embrace.
"Sorry," Oscar mumbles, all ready to gently lift her from his thigh where it substituted for a pillow when her hand against his chest stills his movement. "What? You okay, Ang?" he asks quickly, stopping as he shoots her a worried glance. Brushing his fingertips across her forehead, his palm settles across her cheek as his eyes dance across her face.
Feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat quicken in concern, Angie leaves her palm across his chest a moment more before sliding it over and down the length of his arm. Gripping his hand tightly, she lifts his palm to her chapped lips and kisses it lightly. "Thank you," she whispers; mouth forming the words more than the sound that comes from within.
Lowering his own lips to her forehead, he brushes his soft lips across her skin; hesitating briefly to check for warmth before pulling away. "Feeling up to eating yet?" he whispers softly.
Mulling over the question, Angie decides it's probably time that she gave it a shot. For someone who loves food, Angie is quick to turn it down when she gets sick for fear that she'll somehow ruin her appetite for her favorites. Nodding, she moves to sit up and let Oscar get out from beneath her.
Helping Angie into a seated position, Oscar quickly tucks the blanket around her while they work as a team to prop her up in the corner of the couch. Leaning her head back against the plush cushion, Angie finds herself breathing easier as the medicine helped to mildly clear her sinuses while she had been asleep. Inhaling a deep breath, she revels in the subtle scent of soup and Oscar's cologne drifting towards her from the kitchen.
Settling in next to Angie a few moments later, Oscar's eyes glint in the dim light as he smiles at her. Angie, while not asleep, had taken the time to relax into the cushions and shot him a concerned glance as he set two bowls onto the table in front of them. "I didn't know I owned soup," she mutters softly as she leans forward in an attempt to peer into the steaming bowls.
Pulling part of her comforter over himself, Oscar grabs both bowls and extends one towards her as he sits back next to her. "You don't," he laughs gently, "it's homemade." Glancing at the clock on the wall, he takes mental note of the time and pulls a rattling pill bottle from beneath the covers to set the container on the table. Gripping his bowl tightly, he nods with his chin towards the table, "You'll need to take more of those when we're finished."
Sighing softly, Angie lets the chilled tip of her nose drop closer to the bowl as the steam washes over her face. "I dom't meed more; I'b find, really," she tries again; stubbornly persistent in the belief that she really is fine. Carefully lifting the spoon to her lips, she blows lightly across the broth causing it to ripple lightly before she sips.
Quirking an eyebrow in her direction, Oscar watches amusedly as she takes a few more small bites; careful to avoid the few chunks of vegetables floating around. "This from the woman who was 'dying' earlier this afternoon?" he questions before turning back towards his own soup. "And stop avoiding the healthy stuff, it's good for you – I purposely only gave you, like, five vegetables, tops."
Grumbling lightly, she chases the colorful vegetables in a semi-circle until she gets them all in one spoonful and swallows them with a grimace. Eager to chase the offensive items down, she lifts the bowl to her lips and slurps a small amount of broth. Pulling the porcelain away from her lips, she wipes the back of her hand across her face in an unladylike manner and sets the half empty bowl down on the table.
Finishing his own soup quietly, Oscar carefully nestles her bowl inside his own and heads towards her kitchen to clean up. From the couch, Angie can hear him return dishes to proper drawers and cupboards as if he's done it a million times before; a thought that is oddly comforting. Reaching for the small container on the table, the movement is enough to elicit a coughing fit from her; unable to grip the bottle tightly, Angie is forced to let it skid across the table as she coughs into her elbow.
Spent from her coughing fit, Angie gives up on pursuing the container as she rests her head back against the back of the couch with her eyes closed. Through closed eyelids, she's still able to notice the subtle difference in the room's glow as Oscar stands in front of her with a tight frown. Snagging the bottle from the table with one hand, he shoves it in his pocket and then reaches down to her with his other open palm.
Watching him carefully for a moment, Angie stares intently as the tendons ripple and flex in his wrist and forearm when he flicks his fingers in a gesture for her to stand up. Cautious in her attempt to stand, she immediately feels lightheaded as she gets to her feet; saved from plummeting towards the floor by his strong grasp on her shoulders. Hugging him to her tightly, Angie can't seem to stop herself from burrowing into his warmth as she wedges herself into the gap of his neck.
Pulling away from her slightly, Oscar can't help but smile as Angie mumbles a soft, "Sorry." Bending his knees to stoop down a fraction of an inch, his soft eyes meeting hers, Oscar sweeps widely around her to secure her down comforter enveloped frame in his grip before walking her towards the bedroom. Obscured by the comforter in her face, Angie emits a weakened "Os - car!" interrupted by a small cough as she is blindly carried to the other end of the house.
Depositing her on the side of the bed, Oscar quickly straightens the remnants of bedding and fluffs the pillows. Moving back to stand in front of her, he gently pries Angie's fingers from the tight grip she has on the edges of the comforter until he can slip the material away from her to finish remaking the bed.
"My mother always said 'made beds are nicer to climb into,' which I'm certain was only a ruse to get me to make my bed," he jokes with her.
"Damb, you were too smard for your owd good," Angie says through a half-laugh, half- cough. "I guess I really deed do dake more, huh?" she gives up somewhat willingly.
Disappearing into her en suite, Oscar calls out to her in response; "Trust me; it will help you feel better." Emerging a moment later with a small glass of water, he stops in the doorway while he watches her struggle with the thick sweater as she attempts to pull it over her head halfheartedly. Not even bothering to stifle his soft laugh, he sets the glass on her bedside table and helps free her long arms and head.
Sighing tiredly, Angie attempts to straighten her hair before giving up with a loud huff; "Ugh – forged id." Figuring she'll have better luck with the t-shirt, she focuses on pulling the logo on the fabric back around to her chest.
Tossing her sweatshirt into the laundry hamper in the corner of the room, Oscar turns back to her and smiles. "I don't know; I think it's quite sexy," he laughs as he hands her the water and sets a couple more pills into her outstretched palm.
Glaring at him silently as she swallows the pills, she broke her gaze as she climbed beneath the covers; blankets still thrown back as she scoot across the mattress to the other side of the bed. Watching him through heavily blinking eyelids, she sighs quietly as he returns to the bathroom to fill the glass for her once more. When he reenters the bedroom, Angie has turned off the bedside lamp, but still watches him quietly.
"If you don't need anything else -," Oscar whispers quietly, only to be interrupted as Angie speaks up softly.
"Can you -," the soft whisper breaks through his consciousness. "Would you mind -," Angie attempts to ask again; swallowing thickly as she fights the tears that are pooling behind her eyelids. She doesn't know why the tears start, all she knows is that she wants to be comforted.
Without hesitation, Oscar slides his own wool sweater over his head to reveal a plain white t-shirt and climbs in beside her; enveloping himself around her as she turns away from him in the darkness. Sliding his right arm between her and the mattress, he uses his left arm to draw the covers back up over them and his fingertips softly comb her blonde curls away from her face until he hears her breathing slow.
As Angie is fading off to sleep, Oscar feels her pull his arm around her and tuck his hand in between her own smaller hands. With his fingers thread through hers, Oscar smiles lightly when he feels her twitch against unconsciousness as she fights the sleep; Angie's own fingers squeezing his tighter in the darkness.
Ah! Thank you, fantastic peeps! I sure hope you enjoyed this piece.
Comments/Questions/Suggestions are always welcome.