Special bonus story – dedicated to MoonCat! Happy belated Birthday to you!

Trauma Center: Illness
Derek: Headcold

"Achoo!"

"Bless you."

"Mmmm . . . are you going to say that every time I sneeze?"

Angie whipped around and narrowed her eyes. The washcloth in her hands suffered a devastating twist from her sparked annoyance. "Well, pardon me, Dr. Stiles!" she spat, giving said cloth and additional whip. Derek sighed and started coughing as his breath brushed against his congested chest. "I'm sorry, Angie." he wheezed in between the mild coughing fit. "I don't feel good and it's putting me in a bad mood."

She frowned and lightly dabbed his warm forehead with the cloth. "I understand, but that's no reason for you to act like a big baby."

"I'm not acting like a baby!"

He pitched forward, his retort causing him to go into another hacking fit. On the outside, Angie appeared annoyed as she rolled her eyes. In truth, she was worried, perhaps more worried than she needed to be. His condition was a far cry from terminal, or even serious, but a respiratory infection could lead to bronchitis or pneumonia. The curse of being a medical professional was that it made one a bit of a hypochondriac. It was hard not to worry, seeing what appeared to be everyday ailments turn into something far more severe on a daily basis.

His coughing subsided and she gently pushed him back down on the bed. "I'm sorry, I was only teasing. I didn't mean to upset you." she smiled and placed the cloth back on his head, her light grin somewhere between caring and mischievous. "Tell you what, you can be as grumpy as you want, but you have to do what I tell you."

Derek groaned, "That doesn't seem like a very fair trade off."

"What? All I want you to do is rest and drink plenty of fluids. Is that so much to ask?"

He sneezed again.

"Bless you."

"Mmmmm . . . ."

He sniffled miserably in the wake of the sneeze. She handed him a tissue as he sat up slightly to clean his perpetually running nose. Wiping up as discretely as possible, he frowned somewhat as Angie held out a waste basket overflowing with used Kleenex. "Are you sure you'll be okay? I don't want you getting sick too."

Angie shook her head nonchalantly. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. You just rest."

Derek said nothing as he discarded the tissue and, if he had wanted to express his concern further, a soft moan that escaped him made certain he did not have the chance. Angie blinked, failing to mask her worry. "What's wrong?" Another groan was her response as Derek slowly lifted a hand to press against his forehead. "My headache's coming back."

"I'll go get you some painkillers and more water. Oh, are you hungry? I'll make you some vegetable soup."

"Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks."

She gave him a warm smile and gently pushed him down on the bed again. "Conserve your strength. I'll be back shortly." She pulled the blanket that had crumpled to his lap up to his chest and Derek could not help but smile in response. He could not recall the last time someone had fussed over him so much while he was sick. Angie turned to leave, but he stopped her at the door. "Angie . . ."

"Yes?"

"Thank you, for taking care of me. I really appreciate it."

She looked back at him, smirking warmly. "It's my pleasure. On or off the clock, I'm a nurse, and I take care of people who need me, just like you do."

"Yeah, but, you really didn't have to."

"Oh, hush! I did too."

Derek propped himself up slightly, wordlessly asking her to clarify, and she turned to face him completely.

"After everything you've done for Caduceus and our patients, it's the least I could do, right?" she said with a mild shrug. "Besides, doctors get sick too and someone has to take care of them and, well, I wanted to be that someone."

Much to her protest, Angie felt a small blush bloom on her cheeks. She looked away in a feeble attempt to hide it as Derek's eyes blinked in surprise. "Angie . . ."

"Well, anyway, I'd better get that soup ready!" she said quickly, rubbing the back of her neck. "I can hear your stomach growling from here."

". . uh . . oh . . .bye." Derek stuttered as Angie quickly excused herself, leaving him to stare at the open doorway. He slowly lowered himself back down and rested his head against his pillow. Gazing at the ceiling, he digesting her words. She really wanted to take care of me. A sigh escaped him and he smiled. She's sweet. His mounting headache pounced upon him again and he grimaced at the pain.

But, he kept smiling.

"Angie, don't forget the Tylenol!"

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This is a special thanks to all who had reviewed this and my other stories. I really appreciate your feedback! Sorry if I got anyone's hopes up that the Victor chapter was ready, but it's coming! Stay tuned for that.

In the meantime, I'm going to try and turn my blood into coffee and become immortal.

Disclaimer: Derek Stiles and Angie Thompson are the properties of Atlus. Tylenol belongs to . . . uh . . . Tylenol?