Short but what I had written wasn't working for me so I had to choose a different direction to take this. I have a lot of this written, I just don't have time to type it all out. Sorry for taking so long.
She was there when he woke up, that was what he'd remember for the rest of his life when he thought of her. She was waiting, flipping through the pages of a book. By now, she'd changed out of her scrubs and was totally in her own world, which gave him a moment to just look at her. She was so lovely, was the first thought to actually register in his mind as accurate. The second was that he wasn't in the same room as he was when he'd evidently fallen asleep.
"Confused?" She came over to him from chair, sat down on the edge of the bed and felt his forehead for his temperature. The fever that had been growing for the last couple of hours was worsening. But she wasn't going to worry him about it until she had to. "We've been moved to a long term residential suite, mostly used for quarantine."
"We?" He thought her choice of pronouns was off. Of course, being his nurse she'd be spending time in here through out the day. But she'd get to leave, go home, see her other patients. The word quarantine meant he wouldn't get to see anyone for a while.
Her voice lowered a little, she looked at the bed instead of him, because she couldn't bring herself to look at him. "Dr. James is concerned that whatever you have is contagious." She sat down on the bed next to him. "It's not just a bite."
"Yeah." He sat up against the headboard, looked around the small bedroom. "So, where are you sleeping?"
"There's a couch out there, I'll be on that." She knew he wasn't telling her something and it was starting to piss her off. Did he think she was stupid? Or that she was some kind of miracle worker? She couldn't cure whatever it was he had unless he told her what caused it. And she had to ask, to give him the opportunity to save them both. "I'm in this, same as you. If there's something you're not telling me, I need to know now."
"There's nothing." He shook his head. "You know, there's room in this bed for..."
"You're horrible." She got up, irritation overwhelming her common sense. She had known he would be difficult, so why was she upset? She didn't even try to answer that question. "You're killing us both and all you seem to worry about is that I'm going to sleep on that couch. I wouldn't share a bed with you if my choice was between you and selling my body to the vilest of men." With that thought propelling her, she stormed out and into the small kitchenette.
He laid there, listening to her ramble on to herself in the other room. He couldn't get a grip on her. One moment she was smiling and sympathetic, the next she was angry, snarling, and he didn't care to admit it but radiant. It was cliched to say she was beautiful when she was angry but it was far from a lie.
He did want to tell her the truth, it wasn't right to make her suffer along with him. And it wasn't fair to her as she was only trying to do her job to the best of her ability. But he had to talk to Harry first, to clear it with him. So, because it was a ridiculous idea to let her spend the night on the couch when the bed was plenty big enough, he lifted himself up from the bed and followed her out. He was prepared to grovel, bargain, or whatever it took.
She was there at the stove, now that his brain was fully awake, he could process what she was wearing. She'd chosen a snug sweater and black slacks. Her feet were bare which was oddly arousing and her hair was secure in a loose bun. There was tight feeling in his gut, a warm one, and it bothered him. "That smells great. What is it?"
"Food." She snapped, put down the knife she'd been using for the potatoes to wipe away the weariness in her eyes. It was foolish to feel so tired, but it'd been a long, long day and she wasn't going to let him see her weak. "There's whiskey in the cabinet if you'd like to pour some for us."
He got it out silently, along with the other dishes. While she finished cooking, he set the table and lit the candles.
She turned, saw the dimmed light and the intimate setting. Her heart melted and something inside her warned her that anything he asked for she'd most likely give it to him. However, she certainly wasn't going to make it easy for him.
Silently, she sat and began to eat. He didn't say anything, finding himself surprisingly dizzy after he joined her. Because he knew she'd fuss, he said nothing, only concentrated on getting the food into his mouth. But she knew, as she watched him she could see all the trouble he was starting to have. When he finally dropped the fork and started cursing himself, she got up and went over to feel his forehead again. Yes, he was really burning up. Before she could say anything he smacked her hand away with an angry "don't touch me."
She nodded, sat down and drew out her wand. He was so out of it, he didn't even notice her putting a charm on his whiskey. The next drink he took had him out cold and with the help of a levitation charm, she managed to get him into bed.