Told ya I'd post quickly.

Well, here's chapter two. I'm glad to see that you're enjoying this already.

Thanks to KIRA66 and PAPILLONGIRL for your comments. They made me smile. ^_^

Well, don't wait for me. Go on and keep reading!

Get a Flu

Chapter 2:

Mary kept one hand on the steering wheel of her car and fished her cell phone out of her pant pocket with the other. She couldn't wait to get to Marshall's house. She had to yell at him now. She applied more pressure to the gas pedal – the streets were empty for the most part since most people were working at there jobs, unlike someone – and waited for the other end to pick up on her phone.

There was a click and then, "Hello?" The voice was weak and sounded as if the owner had just woken up.

"You doofus," Mary spat. "How the hell could you get sick?"

"Oh, good morning Mary." There was a yawn. "How can I help you?"

"You can start by explaining why you're sick," Mary shot back mercilessly.

"Well, it seems I've caught the Acute Viral Rhinopharyngitis, also know as the Acute Coryza. It's a contagious, viral infectious disease of the upper respiratory system, primarily caused by rhinoviruses – or the picornaviruses – or coronaviruses. I most likely obtained it by –"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Mary interrupted, "Just get to the point and give me a translation, Marshall."

"I caught the common cold," Marshall replied in a bored tone, as if the diluted answer was far less interesting than his previous response, "most likely due to the fact that I haven't been getting much sleep lately and I've been dragged to places that were pretty cold."

"Save it for the pity party," Mary said apathetically. "The same things have been happening to me, but you seem to be the only one who's sick."

There was a heavy sigh, one Mary had heard countless times before. "I apologize for my lack of immunity," Marshall said sarcastically, "but if all you're going to do is reprimand me for getting sick, then I think I'll just go back to sleep."

"Don't bother," Mary ordered. "I'm already here."

Without another word or the patience to hear what her partner had to say about her abrupt arrival, Mary was out of her car and walking up to Marshall's front door. She listened before knocking. Sure enough, the distant sounds of flustered movement wafted to her ears. She couldn't help but smirk at her partner's discomfort. Of course, he had been sleeping and she had woken him up. She may have gone a little too far. Marshall was sick after all.

Oh well.

Mary rapped her fist against the door loudly. There was another cacophony of movement and then the door creaked open.

"Good morning sunshine," Mary said with a beaming smile; words dripping with sweetness. "You look like hell."

Marshall was leaning against the doorframe, clad only in his pajama bottoms with the tiny planes on them and a white tanktop damp at the collar with sweat. He did look pretty bad. His face was pale with beaded sweat stuck to his brow, his damp hair was in disarray, and his legs were trembling slightly as if they could barely hold up his weight. He seemed oddly frail against the solid and straight doorframe. His usual vigor and pride had diminished considerably. He really was sick.

"What are you doing here?" Marshall asked groggily, gazing down at Mary with drooping eyes.

"I just came to check up on my partner," Mary said, chirping with mock-cheerfulness as she slipped past Marshall to enter his house. "Can't hold that against me, can you?"

Her only answer was a heavy sigh as Marshall closed the door and stumbled after her as she walked into his living room.

"If you just came to brighten my day with your sarcasm, you can just leave," Marshall said without a hint of malice – although slight annoyance – as he flopped down onto his couch.

Mary watched him uneasily. In truth, she did come by to check up on Marshall. It wasn't like him to get sick. Seeing as he knew every little trivial fact about the causes and effects of a sickness, she figured he took every precaution to avoid it. But maybe he just couldn't mess with fate that way and now he was paying the price.

But that didn't mean she couldn't tease him a bit.

"Aww, you don't have to be so mean Mr. Snuggles," Mary cooed as she moved to stand in front of Marshall. "Honest, I just came by to check on you." She grinned down at him evilly.

Marshall chuckled meekly but it turned into a fit of coughs and he doubled over, pressing his hand to his mouth as tremors racked his body with each cough.

Mary's smile vanished.

"Hey," she said, concern mingling with the word, "Are you ok?" She bent down slightly, her hand hovering over Marshall's back. But she pulled back as his fit ended and he straightened.

"Yeah," he croaked as he leaned back and closed his eyes.

"Don't lie to me Marshall," Mary said with a serious tone.

Marshall opened hazy eyes. His beautiful sapphires gleamed dully as they met Mary's gaze.

"I'm sick, Mary," he replied with equal seriousness. "Of course I'm not ok. I feel horrible."

Mary didn't reply. There wasn't anything to say. Sensing no further response from his partner, Marshall closed his eyes and sank limply into the couch with a sigh. His chest rose and fell with his shallow breathing and that was all that moved.

Marshall really was sick. Mary wondered why that logic sank into her mind only now. The poor guy was suffering and she was merely adding fuel to the fire. Well, the least she could do was help, even if all that meant was getting him back to bed. Maybe she could even give him some medicine. Surely he had something he could take that would help.

"Hey, Marshall," Mary said softly, reaching out a hand for Marshall. She placed her fingers on his cheek but quickly drew back in surprise as her fingertips burned. She stared in horror at her partner.

"Marshall," she said, louder this time. She placed her palm over his forehead and felt the heat of his fever seep into her hand. "You're burning up."

"Hmm?" Marshall moaned. His eyes remained closed.

"Come on, Marshall," Mary said as she grabbed Marshall's arm and pulled him forward. "Let's get you back in bed."

Marshall's brow knitted in discomfort as he groaned incoherently. Mary knelt down and slipped Marshall's arm over her shoulders. Keeping Marshall's arm clutched in one hand, Mary placed her free hand on Marshall's back.

"Ready?" she asked. Marshall didn't answer.

"Ok," Mary said and stood up, dragging Marshall up with her. He groaned in protest but managed to stand without placing too much weight on Mary. She walked forward and Marshall moved with her. His head lolled to the side but when he found no support to rest his head against – Mary was just a head shorter than he was – he lifted his head and his eyes fluttered open.

"What are you doing now?" he asked with tired annoyance.

"Taking you to bed," Mary answered through gritted teeth. Even though Marshall's full weight wasn't pulling her down, she still found him to be somewhat heavy.

"That's interesting," Marshall sighed. "You see, I would still be in bed if someone hadn't rudely invited themselves over."

"You'll be fine," Mary countered with a wry smile. "If you can still be sarcastic, you can't be that sick."

"You'd be surprised," Marshall said but the end of his sentence ended in another fit of coughing. Mary had to stop and wait for the coughing to calm before moving again. Marshall lapsed into silence.

It took a little longer than she would have liked, but Mary and Marshall finally made it to the bedroom. Mary stopped in the doorway to take a quick break and examine the room. Clothes were strewn across the floor and the bed was unmade with sheets clotted in bundles at the foot of the bed and sliding down onto the floor.

"Jeezes. And here I thought you were the OCD one," Mary said at the appalling sight of the disorganized room. Marshall had always been one for organization and neatness. "You must really be sick."

"Didn't I already… tell you that?" Marshall said between heavy gasps.

Mary shrugged. "Guess I missed that part."

Marshall managed a dry chuckle but nothing more.

Mary chose a safe path to the bed and made her way towards it, bringing Marshall with her. There was no time to fix the bed sheets so that Marshall could sleep comfortably in them, so Mary left them where they were. She eased Marshall onto the bed and he leaned back into the pillows with a heavy sigh. Mary helped him lift his legs onto the bed and then she tugged the blankets over him until she was satisfied that he was covered enough. She reached over him and propped the pillows up so that his head could rest in a more comfortable position.

Stepping back with a sigh, Mary examined her work. It wasn't perfect but at least Marshall looked comfortable.

"Mare?" Marshall asked quietly.

"Yeah?" Mary was at his side in an instant, kneeling down on the floor beside him to make sure she heard every word. "Do you need anything?"

Marshall shook his head slowly. He opened his eyes and focused them hazily on Mary. "Thanks," he said with a sincere smile. Then his eyes closed and he slipped into sleep with a content sigh.

Mary was left sitting on Marshall's bedroom floor in silence. No, not silence. She could hear Marshall's breathing; the soft rustle of sheets as his moving chest disturbed the blankets. His occasional murmur and slight cough.

Mary liked the sounds. They were better than the monotonous ticking of the clock at work. But she couldn't stay and listen to them yet. She still had things to do.

---

Aww, poor Marshall… and yet, I couldn't resist.

I wanted to make him look like how he did in Episode 4 of Season 1 with the tanktop, unkept hair and all. He looked so hot like that – only now he's wearing little airplanes. Even better I say!

Stay turned. There's still more.

Until next time,
Hobey-Ho