Food Poisoning

She had wanted to cook for him and he'd thought it was sweet. Now, a couple hours later, he wasn't so sure. A couple hours later he was reminding himself that she loved him and wasn't trying to kill him.

Tom leaned heavily against the wall of the hallway. It had hit him so suddenly. He rarely got sick, and there was no question in his mind what had brought it on. She had wanted -begged - to cook that night. It was sweet, really, because he'd been going through meetings all week. Teacher's meetings, meetings with parents, trying to explain why a ten year old wasn't passing their class… It was exhausting. She had promised that she was using one of his cookbooks to make it and that she'd chosen something that couldn't go wrong. When he'd reminded her that she'd managed to spoil soup once she had popped him on the shoulder and told him to go take a shower.

Now he was regretting eating what he had thought was only slightly odd tasting chicken fettuccine. The noodles had been cold, but that was not abnormal from his limited experience with Liz's Italian cooking, and the chicken had been… Well, it wasn't bad, but it had been funny. He wondered if that was more hindsight than anything else.

A wave of nausea hit Tom and he sank to his knees slowly, looking at the stairs like they had offended him in some way. He wasn't sure how he was going to make it all the way up, but now was the best time. If he could make it, maybe he could convince her that it wasn't her cooking and that the week had just gotten to him and he needed to sleep. She'd be devastated if she knew she'd made him sick. He had until she got back from her walk with Hudson to convince her that he was okay. If he stayed squatted against the floor of their front hallway he had no chance in the world.

Slowly, carefully, he pulled himself up. He was an operative, trained in control and able to handle any situation that an assignment threw at him. Technically, he was on assignment, even if he'd manipulated the situation to be with the woman he loved. A short set of stairs shouldn't be able to to beat him.

He took them one by one, climbing and clinging to the railing to get him up. His muscles shook and he felt like he was alternating between a desert and a tundra, all the while his stomach trying to rebel against him. He was halfway there when he heard the outer door unlocking and opening up, Hudson barking happily. Tom reached forward, dragging himself up another step, before his foot caught and he found himself on his knees, leaned against the steps in front of him.

"Babe?" Liz called as she came through the front door, and her voice was worried. "Tom, are you okay?"

"Yeah, just tripped. I'm good," he said, his voice steadier than he expected. She wasn't going to believe him for an instant if he lost dinner all over the stairs though. He pulled in as deep of a breath as he dared, but it was too late. Liz was already following him up the stairs and wasn't fooled for a second.

"You look like you're about to be sick. Are you okay?"

Tom wasn't sure when she came up next to him, but suddenly Liz's palm was pressed against his cheek and he found himself leaning into her touch.

"You're warm," she told him. "Come on, let's get you upstairs."

He didn't argue as she wrapped an arm around his middle and helped balance him as they took each step slowly. Hudson whined below, but knew better than to get under foot.

They reached the top step and Tom felt the world sway dangerously and a small, pained sound escaped him, causing his wife to tighten her hold. "Tom?"

"'m okay," he managed.

"No you're not. You're sick. Bathroom or bed?"

He blinked, not sure when they had reached the entrance to their room. To the left was the bathroom, to the right the bed. All he wanted was to curl up and ignore that the world existed, but his stomach turned in protest and he took off to the bathroom.

Tom wasn't sure how long he choked and sputtered, but eventually he felt Liz's hand on his back. Her touch was gentle and soothing as she rubbed circles there, her usual hurried state put purposefully away as she leaned in and pressed a kiss against his back, just between his shoulder blades. He was sitting awkwardly on the bathroom floor, and he didn't dare move in case it hit again. "I did this, didn't I?"

He risked the smallest movement as he shifted carefully, brows knit together. "Lizzy-"

Tears were in her eyes and Tom felt an unexplainable rush of guilt accompany the nausea. "I'm so sorry. I can't... I just wanted to make the week a little easier for you. Like you always do for me. I just made it worse."

"Babe, it's okay. It's not your fault."

"Yes it is, and I don't get it... I followed everything just like the instructions said. I don't know how I could have screwed it up so badly. And why are you sick and I'm not?"

He shrugged. "Not sure. Hope you don't get sick. Who'd take care of me then?"

That pulled a small laugh from her and she leaned forward from the place she had knelt on the floor with him and pressed a kiss to his clammy forehead. "Exactly. You ready to get to bed?"

Tom glanced at the space between the bathroom and their bed. They had talked about making it a movie night, just sitting back and enjoying each other's company after the chaos of the week. Those were some of his favourites, truth be told. It was so simple and innocent, nothing like his life before Liz. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

His wife blinked at him. "What for?"

"It was supposed to be our night."

She smiled and it reached her eyes. This woman loved him, and after over two years of marriage he still had trouble believing that at times. People like him didn't deserve people like her.

"You're amazing," she said, her hand going to his face and her thumb running over his cheekbone. "Absurd, sometimes, but still amazing."

He blinked at her as she slowly helped ease him to his feet. "I'm not following," he admitted roughly.

Liz was steadying him again as they moved slowly towards the bed. "Your wife poisons you and you're the one apologizing for it," she half laughed at him.

"You didn't do it on purpose," he told her as he sat down carefully on the side of the bed. Small, slow movements. That was all he could take.

"I still feel terrible. I guess I should just admit that I'm not the cook in the family, huh?"

"You make really good brownies," he reminded her, but grimaced at the thought. He should have known better than to talk about food right then.

"They come out of the box," she grumbled as he stretched out on his side of the bed and she pulled the sheet up around him. Liz leaned over and pressed her hand against the side of his face. As she straightened, her cell phone began to buzz and Tom barely caught sight of the name scrawled across as something about a pizza joint. She had her co-workers in her address book by name, so he had to assume it was Reddington calling and he hadn't realized he could feel sicker. Liz frowned at it. "I have to take this, babe. I'm going to grab you a water bottle and I'll be right back."

He shook his head, fingers wrapping around her wrist. "Don't go." He was already fading, he could feel it, but he wanted her there. It was selfish, he knew, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Just this once, he wanted her to choose him over Reddington.

Liz looked down at the screen and frowned. He could see the internal struggle playing out on her face and he braced himself for the inevitable. "One second," she promised, but didn't step out of the room as she answered it. "Hey, I can't talk now. Tom's sick and I... I'm aware it's important, but if it's that important you can call Cooper with it. He's sick and I'm not leaving him tonight."

Glassy blue eyes blinked hard as he heard his wife tell Raymond Reddington no.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow about it. I don't really care what you think about it. Don't call again tonight." She ended the call and loosed a long-suffering breath. "Sorry. A... guy I work with is really pushy sometimes. I'm not going anywhere."

Tom swallowed hard and his eyes were fixed on her as she carefully pulled his glasses from his nose and set them on the table next to the bed. "You sure?" he rasped, almost unwilling to believe what he was hearing.

"Yep. You're more important," she said firmly and kissed the tip of his nose.

Liz circled the bed and crawled in on her side, switching the light off as she did. Tom didn't dare move in case his body decided to rebel again, but she scooted closer, carefully wrapping an arm around him. "This okay?"

"Yeah," he breathed.

"I know things have been rough," she said quietly, tightening her hold just a little, "but I love you. You know that, right?"

"I know," he promised drowsily. "Love you too."

"Well that's a relief," she teased and he felt her move up against him, forehead pressed against his back and her legs tangled with his. They hadn't slept that close since Reddington had come into the picture and started to fill her head with doubts. It relaxed him to feel her so close. Even if it was just for that night, she had chosen him. He didn't care what he had to endure for that, it was worth it. She had chosen him, and not even Raymond Reddington could change that.

Notes: The lovely AskElizabethScottKeen from the Blacklist RP on Tumblr told me I could snag this little idea and run with it, so here it is. If you haven't followed their threads, go do it now. Totally worth it.

I've been a little slower on these lately because I've been working on a multi-chapter story for TBL. If you have any one-shots that you'd like to see, though, let me know! If a plot bunny snags me I'll be happy to write it :D