AN: I'm sorry that this has taken so long to update. You probably don't care, but man, school has completely taken over my life and has finally returned it for winter break. ANd this is going to be the last chapter for Mark Gets The Flu. Hope you enjoy it and sorry for any spelling mistakes.

Disclaimer: I still don't own the characters I just borrow them on occasion, but then return them unharmed. Orangey is borrowed with permission from Parsley Pinwheel.

Roger's eyes fluttered open and he squinted at the bright light filtering in through the dirty windows. He made a mental note to clean them at some point before groaning and trying to stretch. His attempts were ruined by an arm slung across his chest which was pinning him to his bed. Sure he could move the offending appendage, but then he risked waking the owner of the arm and in all truthfulness, the musician didn't want to get out of bed yet. Tending to the four sickly occupants of his house and Orangey, who he swore was out to get him, he was beat. Roger knew the worst was yet to come though, since his ex-girlfriend and close friend had yet to come in sick.

After a couple more minutes of lying in the warmth of the bed, Roger sighed and got up, gently moving Mark's arm so not to disturb him, though still receiving a glare from Orangey who way curled up on the other side of Mark. Come to think of it, he couldn't remember how he had come to be in his bed as Roger knew e hadn't been there when he went to sleep. Shrugging it off he left the room, making sure the small film maker was tucked securely beneath the covers and that the Kleenex box was close at hand.

Walking into the living room he surveyed the lumps of blankets strewn about on his furniture. There were two lumps snuggling close together on one of the oversized armchairs, who he assumed were Joann and Maureen. Another lump had taken up residence on the couch next to the chair and it seemed to be a Collins sized lump. And another lump had sprung up on the remaining chair and it could only be one person. Mimi.

Roger shook his head and began clearing the mess that has accumulated since yesterday. The mess consisted of empty bowls of soup, mugs of tea all in different amounts of having been drunk, and empty Kleenex boxes stuffed full of used Kleenex. Within fifteen minutes the mess had been reduced to dishes soaking in the sink and new boxes of tissues had been strategically placed on the coffee table in the middle of the couch and chairs.

With that taken care of and all of the others still sleeping, Roger trudged back to his room to rejoin Mark and Orangey. Curling one arm around his love he closed his eyes, hoping for at least another hour of sleep before he was awoken to play nurse to the group invading the loft.

"Roger, she's hogging the tissues and I need them."

"No I'm not. Roger, he's just being mean."

"I wanna hear a story Roger, can you tell us The Little Mermaid? The real one, not the Disney one, please?"

There was no letting up with this group and Roger was ready to scream, or quit, or possibly even both. At least he was until he glanced at Mark, who was looking up at him with large puppy eyes. He knew he shouldn't have looked at the smaller man as he couldn't resist puppy eyes from Mark no matter how hard he tried.

"Ok, Mimi, put the box on the couch between you and Collins. Collins she is not being mean, and look she's already put them in the middle. And if all of you can be quiet for more then ten minutes I will begin the story, if not you can have fun entertaining yourselves.

The immediate quiet that followed his works were amazing, and the musician took a moment to savor the silence before walking over to Mark's chair and shifting him so he could sit next to him, which, after a moment of shifting, ended with Mark curled up in his lap.

"Once upon a time there was a young mermaid, whose name was…"

What has seemed like forever was finally over, sure it had only been a week, but with the five of them being sick together and invading the loft to listen to fairy tale, have home made soup (which was really good), and use every tissue box that had been inside the loft, plus more, it had seemed like an eternity.

And Roger was glad that it was over.

Sure he loved his friends and all, but it was too much and he swore that it was never going to happen again. It was something he swore to himself every winter, and he broke it every winter, but it made him feel better at the moment.

"Roger, you are amazing," Mark's voice came softly from behind him. "I don't know how you do this every year, but you do. Honestly, I'm amazed you put up with all of us without killing someone, I know none of us could do it."

Turning to face his love, Roger smiled.

"It's not that hard."

Mark snorted, "Sure it isn't."

The musician walked over and wrapped his arms around the filmmaker and was leaning into plant a small kiss on his nose when- "ACHOO"

He pulled away in shock. He couldn't be, it simply wasn't possible that he could be. It had never happened in all the times he had taken care of them before. In fact, thinking about it he could never remember ever getting- "ACHOO!"

A worried look crossed over Mark's face and he raised a hand to Roger's forehead. Which was warm to the touch.

"Roger, you're sick. I'm so sorry love. Let's get you in bed and I'll take care of you, I promise."

Roger was still shocked as the smaller man led him towards their room.

It seemed that fate had played a major joke on him and he, Roger, for the first time he could ever remember, had the flu.