Idk I just had the flu myself and I'm trying to get my brain used to writing again after over a week of not doing it.

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Lara never got sick: that is what Sam had convinced herself of. Lara got injured a lot, yes, but never had so much as a sniffle in the time the two of them had known each other. Yet as Sam regarded the Woman of Steel hunched over the toilet, she mused that it might be time to revise her hypothesis. It wasn't that Lara never got sick, it was that only a virus that was as formidable a specimen of evolution as Lara could gain a foothold in her immune system. And the virus sure as hell had a foothold.

Lara let out an emphatic gag that mixed with the fluid making its way up her esophagus to create a grotesque gurgling sound. Clearly her body was having trouble getting up what it needed to given the way it convulsed. Lara retched and let out another grotesque gag-gurgle, only this time she managed to produce some bright-yellow bile into the commode. She continued to alternate between retching and drawing in frantic, shuddering breaths. Sam leaned up against the side of the door frame as she observed the pathetic sight before her.

"Can I get you something? Like a water, maybe?" Sam asked at length once Lara had finished inverting her innards.

"Dioralyte," Lara groaned, slinging an arm across the toilet and resting her head on it.

"Okay, gimme a sec." Sam turned away and made for the kitchen to retrieve a packet of Dioralyte, which she'd recently discovered was the British answer to Pedialyte, from one of the cabinets. She also retrieved a glass and, after filling it with water and mixing in the Dioralyte, made her way back to the bathroom. "Here." She held the glass out to Lara. Lara glanced up at Sam with watery eyes and accepted the glass from her, leaning back to sit against the bathroom wall behind her. Sam took a seat next to her.

"You're going to get sick," Lara murmured as Sam did so.

"I'll keep taking my chances. I wanna take care of my sick girlfriend." Girlfriend. There was a word that Sam was getting used to using again. Nonetheless, uttering those two syllables set her spirit alight. Lara grunted in acknowledgement and rested her head against Sam's shoulder.

"I don't feel good," Lara whined.

"When was the last time you ate?" Sam asked.

"Two days ago."

"Hmm…" Sam put the back of her hand to Lara's forehead, and was almost immediately met with a fiery inferno assailing her nerve endings. "You probably have the flu, sweetie. You should drink some of that and keep your fluids up." Sam pointed to Lara's abandoned cup of Dioralyte.

"I don't even want to is the thing," Lara replied, "I feel like I've been punched in the gut."

"You wouldn't have to work so hard to vomit if you at least had fluids in your stomach. Plus it'll taste better than throwing up straight bile," Sam said, "now drink." Lara groaned but complied, taking a few sips of the liquid in her glass. Then, she set the glass back down and returned her head to Sam's shoulder with a small shiver. Sam responded by wrapping her arm around Lara, knowing full well how cold the latter probably felt with her fever.

Sam would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy all of the free sick cuddles she was getting from Lara over the past couple of days.

"Of course this would happen right when I'm cleared to go back to gymnastics again…" Lara remarked at length. Sam let out a small, sympathetic laugh.

"You really just can't catch a break, huh?"

"Apparently not. The only thing I can catch is the flu, evidently."

"Hey, at least you're well enough to crack jokes."

"Only just so," Lara replied, turning her head away from Sam to cough into her sleeve.

"Delicious," Sam said as mucus dislodged itself from Lara's lungs, "I bet that felt good." Lara shook her head.

"I haven't felt this bad in years." Lara coughed again and Sam could hear the contents of her lungs rattling.

"Yeah?" Sam asked. Lara nodded. "Wanna lie down on the couch while I make you some tea?"

"Please."

"Okay." Sam got to her feet and proceeded back out to the kitchen, her nurturing instinct in full swing. Lara normally drank Earl Grey, but Sam knew that wouldn't do her nausea any favors. Instead, she reached past the Earl Grey in their tea drawer and retrieved a pack of ginger tea. When Sam was younger, Antonia had taught her that ginger tea alleviates nausea.

Guess Antonia was good for some things.

Once the tea was made, Sam walked back out into the common area to see Lara curled up on half of the couch, wrapped up in what appeared to be every blanket they owned. Evidently, she really did not feel good. Poor thing. Sam strode over to her and held out the mug of tea for Lara to take.

"Thank you, can you just set it on the coffee table?" Lara asked. Sam complied.

"You need anything else?" Sam inquired.

"To not be sick," Lara whined from within her blanket burrito wrap.

"I'd take it away if I could," Sam said.

"I wish you could," Lara said, her teeth chattering from how cold she was. Sam noticed that she had many bags under her eyes, and immediately knew that Lara had not been, and will not be, able to sleep. The flu was really doing a number on her.

"Well, I can't do that but is there anything else I can do for you?" Sam asked. Lara frowned.

"Could you…" Lara looked a tad bashful as she spoke, "Could you just sit here and talk to me?"

"Of course." Sam took a seat down on the couch next to Lara and tapped a hand on her lap. "Come here." Lara slid over on the couch and rested her head atop Sam's lap. Automatically, Sam began running her fingers through Lara's hair. She'd discovered very quickly after they started dating that Lara was like a cat: she loved to be pet and absolutely melted into Sam's touch. Lara's eyes drifted closed in lazy enjoyment at the soothing contact. "How's your week been besides getting the flu?"

"Pretty good," Lara replied with her eyes still closed, "I really enjoy my history course. Dr. Whitman doesn't leave any of the facts out, he's a great professor."

"Isn't he the dude with the TV show? I forget what it's called…"

"Whitman's World."

"Right. Anyways, I never took you for the type of person for idolatry."

"I'm not ordinarily," Lara assured her, "but he's absolutely brilliant. He's the type of archaeologist my father wishes he could have been." There was a marked silence between the two of them at this. Sam racked her brain for something else to talk about.

"When you were a kid, what did you dream of becoming when you were all grown up?"

"A knight," Lara answered.

"A knight?" Sam asked with a blink. Lara laughed softly before letting out a small cough.

"I used to play with the suits of armor at the Manor. It always gave Winston a headache because I constantly tried to break into the displays and take the swords and daggers. You know, the dangerous stabby things that children definitely shouldn't touch."

"'Dangerous stabby things,'" Sam repeated, "did the flu infect your brain too? I've never heard you talk like that." Lara laughed again.

"Maybe it did…what about you? What did you want to be when you grow up?"

"Me?" Sam grinned. "A rockstar."

"Makes sense," Lara quipped.

"Does it?"

"You have the personality for it, and God knows you also have the talent. You could still be one if you want."

"I'm kind of working on that."

"Are you?"

"I have a few seeds planted."

"Meaning?"

"I met a promoter or two when I was out drinking with Molly."

"You've been busy, then," Lara observed.

"Trying to keep myself moving," Sam replied, "by the way, your birthday's coming up isn't it? Anything you wanna do?"

"Treat it like another day."

"Well that's boring."

"It wouldn't be boring, not if it was a day spent with you," Lara countered. Sam felt her cheeks go a deep shade of red. God damnit, even riddled with the flu Lara was unexpectedly couth. Her one-liners had been on point ever since they'd started dating. Sam looked down at Lara to see that she was grinning up at her. Lara wiggled her eyebrows. Sam rolled her eyes.

"You're ridiculous." Sam laughed. "That was incredibly smooth though, so five points to Ravenclaw."

"Who says I'm a Ravenclaw?" Lara countered.

"What else could you be?" Sam asked.

"A Slytherin?" Lara posed. Sam considered her with interest.

"I guess you are kind of ambitious," Sam mused.

"You'd be a Ravenclaw if anything," Lara said.

"Me?" Sam blinked. "No, I'm a Hufflepuff. I huff and I le puff, bitch!"

"Are you insinuating Hufflepuff was the stoner house?" Lara demanded.

"Why do you think their dorm was right next to the kitchen? They were totally a bunch of hippies!" Sam threw her hands up in front of her animatedly. Lara burst out into laughter before dissolving into a coughing fit once more. "Don't die on me."

"Stop killing me, then," Lara fired back with a scattered giggle as she wiped tears of laughter from her eyes.

"It's not like I have to, you'd probably kill yourself with how accident prone you are," Sam said, running a thumb over Lara's eyebrow scar.

"It's not like I mean to find trouble, you know," Lara said with an air of seriousness, "I just have an extreme propensity for finding myself in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"You know, I don't think you ever told me what actually happened at the Nine Bells."

"I'd rather not tell you and have you worry though-"

"Well now I'm going to worry after hearing you say that!" Sam exclaimed. Lara sighed.

"Fair. Alright, I'll tell you. I was working the late shift because I wanted to make some extra money. These two gits had a bit too much, you know how it goes. So they got into it: one person starts screaming at the other, they're both throwing insults, it started off like any normal fight. But then one of them broke a bottle and my boss, Wilson, was nowhere to be seen so I had to stop it before someone got seriously injured."

"You stopped it? As in, you stopped two grown men from fighting each other, alone?"

"I had no choice. It was pretty horrifying because if I hadn't dodged-" Lara drew a line from her jawline up through her left eye with her index finger, "-I probably would have lost a lot more than just a chunk of my eyebrow."

"So a guy actually attacked you? I thought that maybe a bottle happened to get broken while they were fighting and-"

"Nope. He attacked me, it wasn't an accident. I dodged and defended myself. Slammed his face into the table the moment I realized what had happened."

"That honestly scares the shit out of me," Sam admitted before a mischievous grin spread across her face, "but that is also ridiculously hot, if I'm being honest. You single-handedly beat two men into submission. The hardy barmaid." She resumed stroking Lara's hair.

"Just one. The other knew not to fuck with me after I shattered the other one's nose on the wood." Lara stretched herself out and pulled the blankets more tightly around her.

"I'll say it again: that's fucking hot."

"Mm…" Lara hummed in acknowledgement.

"You falling asleep?"

"Maybe."

"I can stop talking if you wanna rest."

"I like your voice," Lara yawned and let her eyes flutter open.

"You like my voice?" Sam resisted the urge to laugh.

"It's a beautiful voice. I could listen to it for days."

"I sure hope so. I wanna be a rockstar, after all."

"You will be…"

"You should sleep."

"Mm…"

"Just rest," Sam urged Lara. Lara didn't need to be told thrice. With another yawn, she closed her eyes once more and nuzzled further into Sam's lap. When she drifted off to sleep, she looked so peaceful that Sam could have watched her forever.

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