Moments

A/N: It has been a year (and a few days) since I began this wonderful journey, and I thank you all for your kind and encouraging words.

In honor of this anniversary, I add to this series the sick patient/care-giving partner trope. For what fanfic collection of one-shots would be complete without it? Plus, it's a trope for a reason, right?

Anywho, Enjoy!

Bedside Manner

Tuesday 1800 hours

"Peggy! What the hell are you doing here?"

"Officially or the honest to God truth?" Peggy asked even as she barged past him into his apartment.

Jack just scowled at her and held his door open so that she could waltz right back on out of it.

When she continued to set her belongings down, he croaked out, "Peggy, I'm sick, and I'm damn sure I don't want you catching this. So you march your pretty little behind out of here and go home."

"Oh, I did the research," she waved her hand dismissively. "Your contagious period is over. No worries."

She did then march over to him, but only to gently remove his grip on the door knob so that she could shut the front door. When he nearly fell because he had lost his source of support, she sighed and wrapped her arms around his waist.

He scowled at her but eventually gave into the inevitable and let her guide him back to his bedroom. His Marge had it stuck in her head to play nurse in his hour of need. It was romantic in theory, not so much in practice in his opinion.

No man wanted his girl to see him like this – sweaty, snivelly, and shitty-in-spirit.

In a poor attempt at humor as she nervously watched him ease his way onto his bed, she observed, "The real worry is that since I know how bad of a patient you are from when you were shot, I suspect this will be a true test of our relationship – if it is doomed, then this will surely kill it."

He snorted derisively at this, which sent him into a coughing fit. When he had recovered though, he gasped, "Knowing what I know of your bedside manner… Are you sure you won't kill me before we can know one way or another?"

Through the slits of his barely open eyes, he saw her hand twitch, as if she had nearly smacked him but then recalled that would only prove his point.

Instead, she said, "The real reason I am here is that I thought that you would be at the weak-as-a-kitten-but-bored-out-of-my-mind stage and so I brought you reading materials."

Jack was not at all surprised to discover that what his Marge thought as boredom-relieving was evidence inventory, Samberly's jargon-heavy findings reports, and copies of witness statements.

He was surprised to find out how right she was. For her to know him better than he did himself was a little scary.

~A~

Wednesday 0130 hours

Jack slid carefully out of the bed, doing his best not to jostle Peggy awake. All of that hot tea she had made him drink was making his bladder's business of the very urgent nature.

When he was done, he leaned against his bathroom doorjamb to watch her sleep.

She hadn't made herself quite at home in his bed. She had only taken off her shoes and jacket. But he could imagine and hope that one day she would be. Not for the sake of having her less clothed and all that implied, but for the sake of her just being there and belonging there.

Even now the sight of her being in his bed was just so right, that it had to be wrong.

He thought about camping out on his sofa, but he only considered it for a brief moment. He knew his aching head would not be up to her irate reprimands of him, the patient, going through that kind of hassle for the sake of her reputation.

He did, however, go and get her a clean, disease-free blanket and tenderly covered her with it, before crawling back into bed.

~A~

Wednesday 0440 hours

Jack woke again, this time due to feeling hot and flushed.

For a brief befuddled moment, he thought that his fever had spiked again.

But then he realized that it was only half of his body that felt this way. Carter had rolled over in her sleep, and was now not only snuggled into his side, but was also half-sprawled across him, as if she was staking claim to him.

Remembering how stiffly she had lain next to him when they shared a bed as Mr. and Mrs. Baer, he reveled in the fact that she was comfortable enough with him now to let her guard so far down.

And with that note of happiness, he drifted back off into oblivion.

~A~

Wednesday 0720 hours

He woke again this time to see a freshly showered Carter, buttoning up her coat with one hand and gathering up her files to go with her other.

Seeing his familiar scrawl written in the margins of the witness statements, he asked curiously, his voice less hoarse than what it had been yesterday, "So how are you going to explain that?"

It took her a moment, but when she finally caught sight of what his gaze was focused on, she smiled confidently, "Ah, the official story." With a shrug, she explained, "I dropped these off last night and then picked them up this morning, in the hopes that your fevered brain would see something that I did not."

Her smile turned into a smirk when she added, "I will also tell them that you will most likely be back in a few days to be a pain in my arse again. Hopefully, that will keep Connors from continuing to jockey for that position."

Jack grinned at that and the pretty sight of her smirk that she had tossed over her shoulder at him, but then he started to frown. A horrible no-good thought threatened to ruin his morning – this was all too good to be true.

"Peggy?"

Some of his fear and uncertainty must have leaked out into his voice because she came back into the room frowning and asking concernedly, "Yes, Jack?"

How he ever got the courage to admit this he would never know, but he did.

In a raspy whisper that had more to do with his insecurities than it did with his cold, he asked, "Can you check my fever? I wanna make sure I am not delirious and imagining that we passed your little test."

Peggy's tensed-up shoulders relaxed and her frown lines smoothed out, and that would have been good enough for him, but she did one better.

She came over and pressed a warm lingering kiss to his forehead, whispering huskily, "Not delirious. We're good. Now get some rest."

And for once he was able to.

Despite feeling crappy and fevered from the likes of which he had not experienced since his time in the Pacific, he was content and at peace.