Chapter Eleven: Cookies
A/N: Ooffff, I finally typed this up. I had twenty different ideas, and then the good one finally came to me in the shower. So, there 'ya go!
Read on.
Tim McGee rolled over in his bed, groaning at the sound of his phone going off. He rubbed his face as he answered.
"McGee."
"Yeah, McGoo, sorry for waking you."
"Tony?" Tim sat up, "what's up?"
"Remember how I was telling you that Olivia caught the flu?"
"Uh, yeah… you're not sick, are you?" McGee asked, but Tony laughed.
"If only. No, it's worse."
"Ziva…"
"Yes, Ziva. Which means I'm not going into work today. I've already told the director. You're in charge Tim. Have fun."
"I should be telling you that," McGee said with a soft laugh, trying to not wake his sleeping partner.
"Thanks, McGee. Now I gotta go, Ziva's calling and I think I heard throwing up. Good luck today man."
"You too," Tim said quickly, but the line was dead before he finished. He rubbed his head, swinging his legs back up onto the bed and sighing.
(…)
Tony sat on his bed, rubbing his daughters back. She was clinging to his neck, her body hot against his skin. She had started showing symptoms on Wednesday morning, and starting throwing up that night. Now it was Friday, and Ziva was currently slumped over the toilet.
"Juice?" Olivia croaked, and Tony thought. He had her on a cracker and water diet, knowing that anything else would come right back up. He looked at her face, smiling at her.
"Maybe later, when mommy is better," he said, and Olivia pouted. She hid her face in his shirt again, her hands clinging to the fabric. Tony stood and carried Olivia out into the hall. Molly watched them, her eyes worried. The dog had spent most of the day right next to Ziva, bringing come comfort to Ziva.
"Juice?" Olivia asked again, and Tony let out a deep breath. He walked into the living room and placed his daughter on the couch gently. She looked up at him as he wrapped her blanket around her shoulders, and handed her a pot. She grasped it with both hands.
"Mommy's not better yet, baby," he said, grabbing the remote. He turned on the television and found something to keep Olivia distracted so he could check on his wife.
"Okay," she said tiredly, her eyes glazing over as she looked at the TV. Tony didn't like using the television as a distraction, but he had to take care of his wife.
He walked into the kitchen and put some ice into a bag. He also dug some gum out of Ziva's purse, stowing it away in his pocket. He checked on Olivia one last time before heading back down to Ziva.
"Good girl, Molly," he said quietly to the dog as she jogged down the hall to Olivia.
"Tony?" Ziva's exhausted voice called, and he quickly made his way into their bathroom. He frowned at the sight.
He thought he'd seen all of Ziva's exhausted faces when she was pregnant, but this was a new one. Her whole body was covered in sweat, even though she was only wearing her underwear. Her hair was up in the messiest bun he'd ever seen, and she had the side of her face flattened against the tile floor.
"I'm here," he whispered as he sat down near her, reaching up to flush the toilet. She winced at the sound, covering her ear with her hand. Tony touched her waist gently, and she looked up at him. He held up the ice and she let out a long sigh.
"Please," she mumbled, and he smiled. He wrapped the bag up in a washcloth and offered it to her. She placed it on the back of her neck, letting out a long sigh.
"How's Olivia?" she croaked, reaching for her glass of water.
"Better," he said as he handed her the glass. She didn't move to take a drink, her head still against the floor. She let out another sigh.
"Do you need help?" he said softly, and she nodded. He grabbed a towel and draped it over his shoulder. He gently lifted her torso off the floor and against his chest, supporting her weight with his arms. She groaned, shutting her eyes against the vertigo. Tony placed a soft kiss on her temple, mumbling his apologizes. He handed her the cup and she lifted it to her lips, taking a small sip.
"You're cold," she handed him the cup, and he chuckled.
"No, you're very hot," he replied, placing the back of his hand on her forehead. He crinkled his nose, reaching over for the thermometer.
"Lift your tongue," he said, and she obliged. She shut her mouth around the instrument and frowned at him. He grabbed the ice and placed it on the top of her head. She let her body relax against his.
The thermometer beeped, and Tony took it out of Ziva's mouth. He frowned.
"It's gone up a bit."
"What is it now?"
"One oh one point eight," he replied, and she sucked in a sharp breath.
"Have you checked Olivia's?" she tried to look at him, but she shut her eyes in pain. He wrapped his arms around her.
"Hers broke about an hour ago. She's down to under one hundred," he said, and Ziva nodded.
"I feel gross," she moaned, and Tony nodded.
"You smell gross," he said, and Ziva nudged him, or something like that. She was too weak to exert too much energy.
"Can I take a bath yet?" she asked, and he frowned.
"Let's wait until your fever breaks," he whispered, looking around for a towel.
"I'm going to bring you back over to the bed," he said, and she nodded.
After tricky maneuvering and slow movements, Ziva sank into her bed happily. Tony tucked the blankets around her body, placing her water glass on her nightstand. He touched her forehead gently.
"I'll be right back," he whispered, and she seemed to nod.
Tony moved back to the living room where, as he expected, he found his daughter fast asleep on the couch. Tony ushered Molly out of the way so he could lift Olivia off the couch, blankets and all. He then carried her down the hall to his room again.
"Juice?" a sleepy voice said, and Tony smiled.
"Not now baby, you and mommy are going to take a nap," he said softly, and Olivia looked around.
"Mommy," she said, instantly moving up next to Ziva as Tony sat her down. Olivia crawled up under the covers and found her place right in the middle. Tony let out a long sigh, looking towards the dirty bathroom. He would clean while they slept.
(…)
McGee looked up from his breakfast as his phone went off, and he dug into his jacket pocket to find it.
"McGee."
"Hello, Tim, I'm sorry to bother you."
"No, no Ziva, don't worry about it, I'm just eating breakfast, what's up?" he said, pushing his eggs around his plate.
"Well, it seems what while he was taking care of Olivia and I, Tony caught the same flu we had. So, he won't be coming in."
McGee nodded, letting out a soft chuckle.
"Alright, Ziva, thanks for telling me. You're feeling better then, I take it?"
"Much, Tony was an excellent caretaker."
McGee heard something on the other end of the line, and he heard Ziva sigh.
"I shall have to talk to you later, McGee. Someone just threw their cookies."
"Tossed their cookies," he corrected automatically, and Ziva laughed.
"Well, however you put it, Tony just threw up, so talk later McGee."
Reviews are always appreciated!
-Izzy
