Beyond the Case of the Baited Hook
A/N: At the end of this case, Perry has a cold and Della is at his apartment spooning medicine and hot coffee down him.
"You know Della, sometimes you make it too hot even for me," Perry said with a smile as he handed the mug of coffee back to her then tucked himself back into the couch.
Della took it from him with a soft smile, thinking to herself about how that man made her own internal temperature rise. She replaced the mug on the tray and put some wood on the fire. Theirs was an odd sort of love. Each knew of the other's love, but it was never spoken. Yet not far from the surface burned a romantic love that every so often threatened to ignite. Each time, one or both would back up just enough to keep things from going further – into territory that neither was sure should be reached.
"Now, Perry, you rest a while. I'll do some tidying up in the kitchen," Della remarked as she strolled out of the living room.
Perry's eyes followed her as far as he could without stirring from the couch where he lay. With a soft grunt, he rolled onto one side. He pulled the coverlet up over his shoulder and listened intently to the sound of Della in his kitchen. He was deeply comforted by her presence and care. He considered what a lucky man he was. He drew in a breath as deep as he dared and closed his eyes. Sleep was not far off.
When Della finished in the kitchen, she returned to find him sleeping peacefully. She knelt down beside him and stroked his head. Gently she placed a kiss on his forehead and turned to leave.
She whispered, "I'll be back in a minute or two, Perry."
She had changed clothes into a pair of slacks and loose-fitting shirt and returned from her home with an overnight case in hand. A paper sack of groceries also accompanied her. It was late on Friday and nobody had to go to work the next day, so she had already decided to stay over and keep an eye on him. His head was warmer than it had been when the cold first hit. He was restless in his sleep now. She tucked her bag into a corner of his bedroom. It was not the first time that she had stayed over. She knew what the couch felt like to sleep on even though Perry had always offered her the privacy of the bedroom. She and Paul had numerous times slept on the floor or couch while working a particularly intense case.
Della checked his forehead again. She strode into the bedroom and turned down the bed. She turned on the lamp by the bed and pulled a chair closer to the bed. Next Della prepared him something light to eat before putting him to bed.
"Perry," Della spoke softly.
He moaned but did not wake.
She got down on her knees again, "Perry, wake up. It's time to get something in you and then get you off to bed."
Slowly and lethargically his eyes opened to find Della's face looking at him with compassion and concern.
"Della," he croaked, "what are you still doing here?"
"Here, let's sit you up a little," she returned.
He eased his legs over the couch's edge, sitting up, and swaying gently. Perry closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands, which rested elbows on knees.
"I feel awful, Della," he remarked.
"I know you do," she consoled him. "Here, sip this," she offered him a fresh mug of chicken broth.
"I can't taste a thing," Perry complained.
Della stroked his forehead tenderly as she slid in next to him on the couch.
"What time is it?" he wanted to know.
Della shrugged, "Does it matter, Chief?"
Perry's large blue eyes looked into her deep brown ones, "I guess not."
"Keep sipping," she encouraged him.
When he had finished the soup, she got half a sandwich into him before getting him up.
"Time for bed," Della indicated. "Now, brush your teeth and I'll tuck you in for the night."
Perry nodded languidly. He shuffled into the bath and ran water for a few minutes. Della heard the toilet flush, sink faucet run, and then the door opened. Perry labored toward his bed. He sat on the edge and looked at Della.
"Della, I can't thank you enough," he started.
"Sh, Perry. Just lie back and let me take care of you," Della said gently as she helped him out of his heavy robe.
He lay back as she adjusted the pillows and covers. She opened his pajama top and applied a light coating of vapor rub to his chest.
"My mother always used this on us when we were sick. Goodness, Perry, you're burning up. No wonder you feel so bad. Let me take your temperature," she added.
She rummaged through his medicine cabinet and found a thermometer. She washed it and shook it down.
"Here, put this under your tongue," Della extended the thermometer.
Perry lay back with his eyes shut tightly, arm over his head with the thing sticking out of his mouth. Della removed it when three minutes had elapsed. She looked at it and shook it back down. She went back to the medicine cabinet and brought him two aspirin and a glass of water.
"You're running a fever, as if you had not already figured that out," Della instructed. "Take these. Maybe by morning you'll feel better."
Eyes still closed, Perry nodded half-heartedly. He rolled to one side and took the tablets and water. His hand shook when he gave the glass back to Della.
"You can go home now, Della," he ordered.
"I'm not going anywhere, Perry. I'm staying here until you feel better. You don't take care of yourself when you're sick, we both know that…" Della had begun when she heard his breathing change.
Della eased herself into the chair to keep an eye on him for a little while. She grew very tired and was debating where to sleep. Her choices included the couch, putting her head on the bed and napping, or curling up next to Perry on top of the covers. She yawned, grunted, and stretched. She decided on the couch. There were plenty of extra blankets in the hall closet as well as a pillow or two. She curled up and went to sleep; of course, she kept one ear open for Perry.
The morning light crept into the apartment, slowing awakening Della. Her eyes still felt heavy and full of sleep; nonetheless, she made her way to the bathroom and brushed her teeth and washed her face. She peeked around the corner to see Perry still asleep in his bed. Checking her watch, Della decided on preparing some coffee before doing anything else. Next task was to put away the bedding and then wake Perry and take his temperature.
"Perry," Della spoke softly, "it's seven o'clock. I want to see if your fever broke last night."
His face was still flushed and very warm to the touch. The thermometer gave a reading of 101oF. He ducked back under the covers, shivering, asking for another blanket.
Della sat on the side of the bed and got some coffee into him along with some more aspirin. Saturday wore on lazily for Della. His fever hovered between 100.5 oF and 101.5 oF all day. Neither could Perry find any comfort in the bed since everything hurt and hurt badly.
Della summoned Paul to stop and get some orange juice. Paul gave his customary knock at the apartment door. Della opened it and ushered him in.
"Hi, Beautiful," Paul began in a chipper voice. "Where's Perry?"
Della nodded toward the bedroom, "Been miserable and sick all night."
"Here's the orange juice you wanted. Mind if I go see him?"
"You can, but he could be contagious," Della cautioned.
"Uh huh, let him know I stopped by then. If you need anything, just call," Paul said confidently. "I'll stop by tomorrow afternoon and check in on you two."
Della nodded and let him back out the way he came. She leaned against the door before pushing off and going into the kitchen to chill the juice for later.
"Della," he whispered. "Can you find me another blanket? I'm freezing."
"I've put the last blanket and big towel on you a couple of hours ago," Della reminded him. "Here, let me try and keep you warm."
Della kicked off her shoes and slipped under the mountain of blankets to snuggle in close to him. Perry's head made its way to her chest. Her arms were wrapped around him as she stroked his head.
"If you're not better in the morning, I'm taking you to the doctor, kicking and screaming if I have to," Della whispered into his ear.
He grunted and groaned much of the night. Della got no sleep either; rather she dozed off and on. An hour or so before dawn, his fever broke. He awakened in a heavy sweat. He found Della lying next to him under a few of the covers. Perry struggled to free a hand. He touched Della's face lovingly. He touched his finger to his lips then to hers.
"Good morning, Beautiful," he announced as she opened her eyes.
Della smiled, "Feeling better, Perry?"
"Much," he replied gazing into her eyes with an intensity she had not seen before.
"I love you, Della," Perry declared.
"I know," she said with a blush. "I love you, too."
"If I were to ask you to marry me and you did, would you leave my office?" he wanted to know.
"No, I don't think so, Perry. You need a secretary as much as you need a wife," she laughed.
Perry chuckled, "You're probably right."
He pushed himself up and took her face with both his hands. His thumbs stroked the sides of her face as he drank in her gaze. Closer and closer, he bent down until his lips hovered just above hers.
"I feel compelled to kiss you, Miss Street," he crooned.
"Well now, don't let me stop you, Mister Mason," she smiled as her arms went around Perry.
The End