This was originally a short drabble for a tumblr prompt request, but it got out of hand, so this is the extended version. I just had a virus like the one described (but I wasn't graphic, don't worry) for the third time in less than a year, so I'm sure the description is accurate. I wrote Sharon as more dependent upon Andy than I usually do, but it's for good reason, I can assure you :)

Sharon and Andy finally got around to decorating the Christmas tree one evening a couple of weeks after the tree and other decorations had been up.

"Is this okay here?" Andy asked, holding up an ornament. Sharon was humming along to an instrumental version of Angels We Have Heard On High and was concentrating on her own ornaments, so she didn't hear him at first. "Sharon?"

"Oh, sorry. What?"

"This okay here?"

Sharon rolled her eyes. "You don't have to ask me every time you put something on the tree."

"Oh, so you're not going to rearrange the ornaments when I'm not in here?" Andy retorted.

Sharon bit her bottom lip. "You've noticed that?"

"Yes, I've noticed that."

They both looked up as Rusty came in, dropped his school bag on the floor, and curled up on the couch, barely taking the time to remove his shoes first. His cheeks were a little flushed, and Sharon recognized the weakness in his eyes that always told her when he wasn't feeling well. "You okay?"

"Fine. Tired."

Sharon raised a suspicious eyebrow, but went back to her decorations. He'd just finished his last law school exam for the semester, but she had a feeling he wasn't just tired.

"Mom? Do we have any ginger ale?" Rusty asked a little while later, his voice sounding shaky.

"I don't think so, what's the matter?"

"I don't feel good—crap." Rusty scrambled off of the couch, and Sharon followed him to the half-bath off of the kitchen after stopping to dampen a cloth with cool water.

"You're okay," Sharon soothed as she patted his back. His gasping breaths between heaves were breaking her heart. She could hear Andy in the kitchen, slipping his shoes on and getting his keys, so she knew he was going to the store. Once Rusty was finished, she flushed the toilet and wiped his face and mouth with the cloth in her hand. It didn't matter how old her children were, a stomach virus always made them seem more helpless than anything else, and she couldn't help but take care of them. Once he was in bed, Sharon tucked the covers around his shoulders and felt his forehead. "Hmm, I think you have a little fever. Does anything else hurt?"

"Arms and legs."

Sharon brushed her hand over his forehead and down his cheek. "Text me if you need something."

"'Kay."

When Sharon checked on Rusty before bed, he was shivering, so she got a couple of blankets and layered them under his comforter. "Moooom," he groaned. "I feel like crap."

"I'm sorry, honey." The vague smell of vomit told her he'd gotten sick again, so she didn't bother to ask. "Do you need anything?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Okay. I put some ginger ale and Gatorade on your nightstand, and there's a garbage pail right here beside you."

"Mm-hmm."

Sharon cleaned the rug where Rusty hadn't made it all the way to the bathroom and ran a fresh cloth under the tap in the bathroom. "Sorry."

"It's all right." Sharon straightened his covers and wiped his face with the cloth. "I'm going to bed. Call me if you need anything."

"Thanks, Mom."

A couple of days later, Sharon thought she was in the clear. Stomach viruses between Emily and Ricky usually spread from one to the other within hours, so when she felt fine three days later, she thought nothing about attending a Christmas party in her old neighborhood on Friday night. Until it hit her out of nowhere in the middle of the party. She went from feeling perfectly fine and going to the bar area for another drink to looking around in a panic for Andy. He was talking to one of her former neighbors, but he met her eyes and excused himself. He quickly made his way across the room and put his hand on her shoulder when he finally got to her. "What's wrong?"

"Ugh, I think I'm sick. We have to go."

"Okay, uh, where's Jane—"

"I don't care, I'll text her later and tell her." Sharon wasn't one to leave without telling the hosts goodbye, so Andy knew she wasn't kidding, and he quickly led her to the door. "I'll go get the car. Stay right here."

"I don't think I have an option." Sharon gave Andy her keys, slowly sat on the front steps, and lowered her head to her lap, trying to ward off the waves of nausea. It felt like Andy had just walked away from her when she felt his arms around her, gently helping her up.

"Come on, I've got you." Andy helped Sharon to the waiting car in the road, opened her door for her, and helped her inside. She was still struggling with her seatbelt when he got in the driver's side, so he buckled it for her before securing his own and driving off. "Tell me if I need to pull over, okay?"

"Mm-hmm." The twinkling Christmas lights on other houses that she'd enjoyed on the way to the party were just giving her a headache now. She made it home, but had to ask Andy to stop at the end of the driveway. Her arms felt too heavy to hold her hair back, but it wasn't long before she felt Andy gently tug her hair away from her face and pat her back. If she'd had a normal, non-plague-like virus, she'd probably rather him not witness this, but she couldn't care less.

"You okay now?"

"Yeah. I didn't like those shrubs, anyway."

Andy guided her inside, briefly wondering if he'd have to carry her. She looked like it pained her to put one foot in front of the other, but she made it inside and collapsed into bed, fully dressed. Andy brought her some water and took her shoes off for her. "Hold on, let's get you into your pajamas really quick. You'll be more comfortable."

Sharon burrowed under the covers and rolled over. "Nuh-uh, too cold. Arms hurt."

"I'll be fast, I promise."

"That's a sentence I never thought I'd be happy to hear in bed."

Andy chuckled as he slid a pair of pajama pants under her dress before unzipping it and wrestling it off of her, then unhooked her bra and pulled a sweatshirt over her head. "Almost done." He noticed a bit of vomit that had gotten in her hair before he'd gotten to her earlier, so he got a wet cloth and got it out before pulling her hair back and securing it with a hair tie. Once he got her back under the covers and tucked her in, he placed the back of his hand on her forehead. He thought he remembered her saying something about Rusty having a fever, but he wasn't sure if she did or not. "Should I check your temperature?"

"Nah—sss—fi..."

"I'm guessing that was 'no' in English." Andy ran his hand over her hair and kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry, honey. Feel better. Wake me up if you need me."

Sharon woke up a couple of hours later and bolted for the bathroom as quickly as her heavy limbs and natural eyesight would allow, but not before nearly breaking her neck on a garbage pail beside the bed and knocking over the glass of water on her nightstand, both clearly put in place by Andy. There wasn't much left in her stomach, but it was determined to find something, and her body painfully contracted until it decided it had had enough. Andy stirred at the commotion, but he wasn't fully conscious until he heard her coughing and gasping for breath from the bathroom. When he got to her, she was rinsing her mouth out in the sink, and it was clear that her sweatshirt and the bath mats would need to go to the washing machine. Tears were in her eyes, either from coughing, misery, or a little of both. "Hey, it's all right. I'll help you clean up."

"Gonna get sick," she murmured.

"That's fine. This virus has been in the house for a few days now, anyway, I doubt avoiding you now will help." Andy dampened a cloth in the sink and dabbed it against her cheeks and mouth. "Let's get you another sweatshirt, and I'll clean up in here."

"Andy..."

"It's not a big deal. You couldn't help it, and I'm sure you want to get back in bed." Andy wrapped his arm around her and led her to the bedroom. "In sickness and in health, right?"

Sharon's head dropped limply to his shoulder, and she would've laughed if she had the energy. "I love you."

Andy smoothed her hair back and pressed his lips to her slightly-too-warm forehead. "Back atcha, babe." Sharon shivered against him, so he made quick work of helping her change into another sweatshirt. "Here, it's an LAPD one. It's okay to vomit on that. Mason has me wanting to do the same thing sometimes."

Sharon took a few sips of Gatorade and passed back out, oblivious to Andy cleaning the spilled water, rinsing out her sweatshirt, and cleaning the bathroom, but she unconsciously gravitated toward him when he got back in bed, despite the two extra blankets he'd put on the bed, seeking warmth.

The next morning, between the extra blankets on the bed and Sharon's fevered body entwined with his, Andy woke up feeling like he was on fire. Sharon was sleeping somewhat peacefully, so he stayed where he was and tried to go back to sleep, but he'd resorted to reading by the time he felt her stirring behind him a couple of hours later. "Hey, what do you need?"

"Thirsty." The taste in her mouth was abhorrent, and her throat was dry from getting sick. A couple of slow sips of ginger ale did the trick, and she hoped it would stay down this time.

"How are you feeling?"

"Is it possible to ground a 23 year old?" Sharon moaned.

"That bad, huh? I'll look into it. Have you gotten sick again?" Andy had gotten up a couple of times to make sure she had enough to drink within reach, but he didn't remember hearing her in the bathroom.

"A couple of times, but it was just the ginger ale. Or Gatorade, or whatever I reached first." Sharon had woken up several times needing something to drink, and the beverages on her nightstand had seemed to magically refill themselves throughout the night. Now that she was awake and more logical, she knew that had been Andy.

Andy's eyes widened. "If you can't hold down liquids—"

"It's fine, Andy, I was just so thirsty and drank it too fast."

"All right...You need anything?"

"Sleep."

"Twelve hours wasn't enough, huh? I'm kidding. Go back to sleep, I'll be right here."

"Hmm." Sharon snuggled against him and closed her eyes. She didn't feel that nauseous anymore, but her whole body still hurt, and she was still struggling to stay warm.

Soon after 3:00, Andy got out of the shower and found Sharon sitting up in bed. "Hey, how are you feeling?"

"Hurts."

Andy discarded his towel on the floor and started getting dressed for what he assumed was going to be a lazy afternoon. "What hurts?"

"Everything. But stomach's better."

"Well, that's something." Andy leaned over her and kissed her forehead. "How about a bath and some fresh pajamas?"

"Sounds great." Andy ran a bath for her, and Sharon was more than happy to lower her aching body into the hot water.

Andy came in a couple of minutes later and offered her a couple of small pills and a glass of water. "Want some Tylenol?"

Sharon accepted the pills and gave the glass back to Andy after taking a few sips. "Thanks, honey. I don't know what I would've done without you last night. I don't remember ever being that sick."

"You know you don't need to thank me. I wouldn't have been anywhere else."

"Seriously. I still feel like I can't move, and I can't tell you how many times I woke up thirsty. Not having to get out of bed to go farther than the bathroom was a lifesaver. I'd be a mess right now—more of a mess—without you."

Andy grinned. "You're not that big of a mess."

"Such a charmer." When Sharon was ready to get out, Andy helped her up and dried her off. Obviously, she could do that herself, but as miserable as she still seemed to be feeling, even the small task of drying herself off was probably exhausting. She wasn't tired enough to go back to sleep, so she took her bed pillow to the couch once she was wearing some clean pajamas and had brushed her teeth. Rusty was watching TV, and he moved over to make room for her. "Sorry, Mom. Andy said you were sick."

"It's okay, honey."

"What do you want to watch?"

"Whatever you're watching is fine."

Rusty reached for the remote and clicked through their streaming options for a few moments before landing on The Holiday. "Here, you love this movie."

"Thank you. I do love this movie."

Andy came in with a couple of blankets and a glass of Gatorade. "Do you think you could eat something?"

Sharon took a few sips and placed the glass on the coffee table. "Not yet. Maybe later." She reached for one of the blankets in Andy's hands, and he spread it over her. "I'm going to clean up a bit. Need anything?"

"I'm okay. Thanks, honey. Mind plugging in the tree?"

"Sure." Andy came back a little while later and lifted her pillow so he could sit with her resting in his lap. Sharon felt like something had beaten the crap out of her and left her for dead, and if Rusty was anything to go by, it would still be another day before she felt like herself again. With her husband and son on each side of her, Christmas decorations in the background, and the opportunity to do nothing but watch Christmas movies for the next day, it wouldn't be so bad.