Please eat something

Every time Jesse looked like he was about to vomit his ass onto his take-home exam, her feet itched to make a beeline to the door.

The emetophobiac in her felt like screaming bloody murder and fleeing the country.

(When she was in the first grade, some girl vomited her strawberry milkshake all over her show-and-tell choice item, her prized stuffed animal bunny, which forever smells of the horrid memory. And don't get her started with the whole Aubrey projectile vomit thing. The pitch pipe covered in who-knows-what from the depths of the former Bella leader's insides was forever tainted.)

(She had issues to work through, okay?)

She can tell it's coming when his eyes are closed and nostrils flare, almost like a sneeze, but instead he's holding his breath and the grip on his pencil makes his knuckles turn white. She'd toss the empty trash bin to him, bracing herself for the worst, only for him to gag and continue abiding to the feeling of general grossness swimming around in his stomach.

"Not to boost your ego or anything, but you look really fucking awful."

He lets out a hoarse laugh, but soon enough, his face pales once again, begging for the bin. She hands it to him, cringing when he gags several more times.

"Dude, we need to get you to the doctor."

"It's probably just food poisoning," he assures her with a thumbs up.

She gives him a once over, eyes slitted skeptically.

"That's bullshit, if it was food poisoning you'd, you know, actually be vomiting," she points out, "and we've eaten the same food in the past twenty-four hours, I'd be almost-vomiting if that was the case."

Jesse shakes his head profusely, breathing deeply as he attempts to focus on the questions before him and not the wave of nausea rippling through his stomach. "I'll be fine by tomorrow, don't worry."

When tomorrow comes around, he's sweating like mad and has a fever of 100º, and he's complaining about how awful the pain in his stomach was.

Not that it fazes him or anything.

The worst thing about their relationship is that they're both ridiculously stubborn. They were both adamant in their own ways— Jesse's more inclined to hold out a grudge or push her buttons, while Beca's more into not dealing with whatever problem it was, at all. They butt heads when they're at the movies ("I want to watch the one with the zombies." "No, Bec. It looks like shit. This film is nominated for Best Sound Mixing, so we have to watch it." "It looks boring as fuck, though." "Beca..." "Okay. Fine. Whatever." "..."), when they can't decide on what pizza crust to get ("Don't make that face." "What face?" "You know what face." "I'm just saying, thin crust would've tasted so much better... Wait, Beca, don't make me eat this whole pizza by myself! Beca? Come back!" "Whatever. I'm eating at Chloe's."), and it gets particularly shaky when they play Mario Kart ("Quit sulking over the fact that I won." "Because you fucking cheated, asshole." "Don't be a bad sport." "Fuck you? I have a job to get to. Bye." "What are you talking about, you're not working today!").

So when Beca urges him to visit the doctor, he doesn't budge. "It'll pass."

"If you were someone with a vagina shedding the inner linings of their uterus right now, I would've wished you luck and handed you a Midol and a heating pad," she pauses to gauge his reaction, a mere shrug, before continuing. "But you aren't that person. And even if you were, I'd take you to the doctor anyways because no one should ever have a fever this high."

"Geez, Beca. I'm positive I'll be good to go tomorrow."

"I'm offering, here. Take what you get or I'm out."

"I am fine," he grits through clenched teeth, fighting off the pain surging through his abdomen. He takes her hand and gives it a squeeze from his spot on the bed, looking up at her with the most sincerity he could muster.

"Jesse, will you quit being a child and just agree to go to the god damn doctor's office?"

"For the last time, I don't think a doctor is necessary!"

She rolls her eyes and throws him a bottle of cold and flu medicinal syrup before stalking her way to Bellas practice.

As much as she wants to ignore him, she can't.

So, when she goes to check up on him, she's hoping that he's asleep. Being the heavy sleeper he is, it'd be much easier to check his temperature while he was unconscious.

Her heart slows when she doesn't find him in his bed, but it doesn't take long for it to start racing again when she finds him passed out on the bathroom floor.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckthisstupidfuckingidiotwhydidn'thelistenfuckfuckfuck

In a panic, she yells for Benji, whose bedroom happened to connect to the bathroom. Together, they help Jesse on his feet and drag the now conscious man to the backseat of Beca's car, head on her lap and knees folded against the door. She allows Benji to drive them to the emergency room, since her mind was racing to all possible (mostly bad) conclusions.

"I feel fine," he grumbles, begrudgingly taking the thermometer into his mouth on Beca's command.

"I don't like Sick You just as much as you don't like Sick You, but I also don't like possibly Dead You. I don't appreciate you passing out wherever you please, either. You could've seriously hurt yourself, you idiot!" She snaps, grabbing the thermometer out his mouth with a shaky hand to read it. His forehead was burning under her touch, and the thermometer confirmed her suspicions of his fever spiking another two degrees or so.

He must've realized the panic on her face because the once-annoyed look on his face vanishes and is replaced by one of guilt. "Beca, please stop worrying about me. I'm fine, it's okay."

"But you aren't."

"I grew up with three other siblings. It's happened before, and it passes through without doctor's aid. It's not a big deal. There are better things to worry about."

The mixture of concern, fear, and anger stirring in her stomach isn't enough to slap him into his senses. She's silent for the rest of the five-minute trip to the hospital and the wait in the emergency room while Benji and Jesse chat about the new Thor movie.

"Beca," Benji gently nudges her awake from his lap in the waiting room. She lifts her head and yawns, meeting the gaze of a man in a white lab coat with a stethoscope wrapped around his neck.

"Mr. Swanson is asking for his girlfriend. Is there a Beca Mitchell here?"

She blinks up at the doctor asking and nods. "That would be me."

The man gives her a pleasant smile and beckons her to follow him to Jesse's hospital bed.

"He's been having symptoms of viral meningitis, so we've run a series of tests to help determine the definitive diagnosis. Best case scenario is that it's just an unruly case of the flu, but we're performing a spinal tap to make sure," he explains.

She tries not to crinkle her nose in disgust at the thought of having a spinal tap. "Thanks, doc. When's this being done?"

"In a few minutes, and we should have the results within a few days. We'll keep him overnight to keep an eye out for any changes, but otherwise we'll just have to wait for the test results to come back. He'll be released in the morning with a doctor's note to his professors."

She nods, prompting the doctor to leave the two alone while he prepares for the spinal tap.

"No big deal, huh?"

"Aw, come on, Bec. I'm about to have a gigantic needle stabbed into my spine, and my head is pounding. Now is not the time to rub you being right into my face," he groans.

She snorts. "For the record, I'm still pissed at you for being so fucking stubborn."

"Will you hold my hand when they jab the needle in me?"

"You can hold your own hand."

"Be-ca."

The doctor has her and Benji take preventative antibiotics as a cautionary measure, having been the only two to contact Jesse directly within the last 48 hours. Beca stays with him through the night, much to her chagrin of hospitals. Benji leaves around one in the morning, but promises to come back once Jesse's discharged.

The doctor orders bed rest, pain meds, and plenty of fluids for the next week or so while he recovers. She emails all of his professors about his absentee-status, all of which, to his relief, were understanding enough to let him slide for a week.

She's somehow taken the role of nurse, doctoring Jesse to health in the midst of all that was going on in her life. With Bellas practice for four days, classes for five, and radio station shifts for six, her week was already packed as is. Still, she finds the need to check up on him every hour.

She swings by their campus diner to picks up some food before heading to a (presumably— the Trebles do, in fact, still practice, despite their slim chances against the Bellas) empty Trebles house.

She announces her arrival with the sound of the keys (that he let her borrow. Apparently the rest of the boys, minus Benji, were opposed to having fellow Bella foe unlimited access to the plotting grounds) jiggling into the lock on the door.

He's asleep when she finds him, looking meek underneath the heap of blankets and throws. She takes the damp cloth from his forehead to re-soak it in cool water, quickly pressing a palm to check his temperature. When she comes back with a bowl of water with the cloth soaking in it, he's already awake.

"Hey, did I wake you up?" She gives him an apologetic smile. "How's meningitis treating you, nerd?"

He sits up, his plane pillow snug around his neck. "It's running its course and wreaking havoc on my immune system, but it's nothing I can't handle."

She sets their takeout on his bedside table, gauging the grimace on his face. "Please eat something. You can refuse and fake it all you want, but it doesn't mean that, psychologically speaking, you aren't hungry for some chicken noodle soup," she opens the container of soup for him. "For the soul," she adds, wryly.

"I'm full." He protests, gesturing to the pile of empty juice pouches in the trash bin next to his bed.

Tongue in cheek, she tries her best not to laugh.

"Doctor's orders." He gives her an innocent smile.

She finally lets out the stream of laughter that she's been holding in. "Yeah, by plenty of fluids, I think the doctor meant water or orange juice or something. You're such a weirdo."

"God, you're so perfect when you laugh. How'd I get so lucky to have you as my amazingly perfect girlfriend?"

She can't help the embarrassing blush from finding its way to her cheeks. It's weird how after two years, the words he said still made her feel like her insides could combust with butterflies and rainbows and candy hearts— all that cheesy shit that she didn't think she'd ever feel. Yet, here she was, now a month into her junior year of college, blushing like a love interest in a cliché romantic comedy.

"Seriously, Bec. You don't have to be here," She opens her mouth to protest, but he just continues on. "But you are, and I'm grateful for that. And I should've listened to you about seeing a doctor. It's just that growing up with three siblings, you kinda just brush that kind of stuff off, you know? You wait it out because you don't want your parents to deal with it, since they have other things to worry about. But I'm not with my parents or siblings anymore— Now I have you, and I'm so lucky for that. And if you're willing to help, then I need my stubborn head to accept that. Just... Thank you, Beca."

Her cheeks dimple when he presses a tender kiss to it, once again making her heart do the whole 'thump-thump-thump' bit. "I'm only trying to keep you alive. I mean, who else is gonna shower me with compliments and movie fun facts?"

He grins. "Touché."

A/N- Hope you guys don't mind me postponing this for a week or so, I'll be posting chapters to other fics as a filler. In the meanwhile, leave me a comment on what'd you like to see in the remaining chaps (or in a drabble or something, I'm up for anything!)