Sharing a room wasn't as bad as I had thought it would be. The first few days were an adjustment, of course, but once we got past that, it was nice. It was nice to come in after practice and find Ian there, reading or watching the little TV we'd moved in to the cabinet on his side of the room. It was especially nice to get into a warm bed and feel his long limbs wrap around me. The way he curled around me just felt so right now.

Morning came, and with it the usual process of disentangling myself from my bed-hogging boyfriend. I moved an arm off my back, lifted his leg off mine, and got up to shower, confident that I'd come back to find him laying out my clothes for the day. He'd taken to doing that lately, even though I'd told him I could dress myself. He was such a little housewife.

But when I came out of the bathroom, Ian was still in the same position on the bed as he'd been when I'd left him. This was unusual. He was a deep sleeper, true, but once I was up, he was soon to follow. Not today, though.

"Ian," I murmured, nudging him slightly. "Wake up. You're gonna miss the morning session if you don't get up now."

At last, signs of life. He rolled over, sniffed . . . and sneezed three times in a row.

"Bless you," I said. "I left you some hot water. There's just enough time for a quick shower."

He sniffed again and rubbed at his eyes. "I don't feel so good, Channy."

"What do you mean, you don't feel good?"

"I don't feel good!" And then he started coughing. It seemed to go on forever. I sat beside him on the bed and rubbed his back until he could breathe again.

"I guess you really don't feel good," I said. "You stay in bed, then. I'll be back with your breakfast in a little while."

"No," he said, reaching for me. "Don't leave me. Stay."

"I think you'll be all right for a couple of hours. You're not dying or anything."

"Please," he groaned. "I need you."

I looked at him. His cheeks were already flushed with the start of a fever, his nose was red, and his eyes were watery. He looked awful, and I couldn't just leave him here alone, could I? At the very least, he needed medicine.

"Okay," I said. "I'll stay. But you have to do what I say."

"I will," he said, although we both knew how it would go. Ian is probably the worst patient in the history of the world. He won't take his medicine, he won't stay in bed, and he doesn't even want to eat most of the time when he's sick. I'd have to practically force soup and fluids and medicine down his throat, and I was not looking forward to that at all. But Ian needed me, so I would stay.

I made the call to let everyone else know that the two of us would be unavailable for today, probably tomorrow as well, and possibly longer. I had no idea if this was just a cold, or the flu, or something worse. Right now it didn't seem too bad, so I got the cold medicine out of the bathroom and prepared a dose. Then I woke Ian, who had fallen asleep again, and told him he had to take it.

You would think I was trying to give him poison or something. First he buried his head under the pillow. Then, when I pulled it off him, he turned toward the wall, and would not budge no matter what I did.

"Ian, don't be a baby! Take your damn medicine!"

"I don't want to." Muffled against the bed. Great, now he was getting snot and drool all over the sheets. I was sleeping on the floor tonight.

"Come on, you want to get better, don't you? Just take this, and you can go right back to sleep. I won't bother you again till lunch time."

"Not hungry."

"You will be. You can't not eat, buddy. Don't do this to yourself."

"Go away."

I knew he didn't mean it. If I took so much as one step out that door, he'd be begging me to come back. But I wasn't in the mood for this. "Take your medicine and I'll leave you alone."

"I don't wanna."

"Void and darkness, stop acting like such a brat! Just take it already!"

He turned away, towards the wall.

"What do you want me to do? Sing you a song? Read you a story? What?"

His reply was a mumble against the damp sheets.

"I didn't catch that."

He poked his head up a bit. "Find Shelldon. I can't find him."

"What do you mean, you can't find him? You brought him to bed last night, didn't you?" He's like a little kid with that thing. "He has to be either in the bed, or under the bed. He didn't get spirited off to Pluto or something."

"He's not here."

I got down on my knees and reached around under the bed. "The things I do for you . . . he's not under here. Did you look in the bed?"

But when I came up, Ian was asleep. Great.

I put the medicine aside, till he woke up, and peeled back the covers just enough to reach in and feel around. I finally found Shelldon way down at the bottom of the bed. I tucked him in beside Ian and went to get something to eat.

When I came back, Ian was awake.

"You left me! Why did you leave me?"

"Calm down, princess. I only left to get you some food. Which you will eat, and then you can take your medicine, and then I was thinking I could put on a movie."

"No explosions," he said. "My head hurts enough already."

"No, you'll like this one. Eat first."

He pouted. "I knew there was a catch."

I opened the container of oatmeal for him, and he managed almost all of it before he got tired. "What movie?"

"Medicine first."

"Just tell me?"

I sighed and showed him the box.

"Grease? You brought me Grease?"

"Now will you take the medicine?"

He took it. Then I put the movie on for him, and we snuggled up together. I didn't care if I got sick. It was worth it to spend the whole day together like this. Maybe Ian should get sick more often.

"Chaaaaaance! Get me another blanket! I'm freezing!"

Then again . . .