"The most important thing in a relationship between a man and a woman is that one of them must be good at taking orders." –Linda Festa
There are two things that every good Catholic boy develops young: a respect for women and a healthy guilt complex. Booth was a good Catholic boy, so on his way to her apartment his mind was divided between worry for his partner who was rarely ever sick and guilt for being the one who infected her. He should've seen this coming a mile away.
About four weeks earlier.
"Are you feeling alright?" she asked, the concern evident in her voice despite the hundreds of miles that separated them. "You sound like excrement; metaphorically speaking, of course."
His laugh caught in his throat and came out as a hacking cough that barely left his lungs in his chest.
"You should see your primary care physician," Bones' voice crackled over the line.
"I'm fine," he croaked. "How are things in Bora Bora?"
He could almost hear her eyes rolling at the phone but the question worked because she forgot all about his cough and started lecturing him on where she was and what she was doing. He leaned back on his pillow, smiling. He might have picked up the cough in Vermont, but overall it hadn't turned out to be the rotten Christmas he thought it would; though he still could've gone without the sniffing Santa butts part.
Over the next hour he listened while she dominated the conversation, occasionally pausing to ask him something or tell him to go to the doctor. Finally, he couldn't stay up any longer so he let her know before he fell asleep on her. There was definitely more than a hint of disappointment when he told her but after one last violent coughing jag she changed her tone, ordering him to bed.
The next morning his throat was even worse and his head felt like he'd spent the first day of summer at Chucky Cheese. The cold didn't help anything, especially when he found that the Christmas snow had melted into slush then refrozen overnight. After a few pointless hours staring at paperwork at the Hoover he gave up and sought medical advice.
"You look like crap," Cam said, eyeing him up and down when he walked into her office.
"I've been getting that a lot," he grumbled. "Look, you still have your license, right? So you can get me some drugs to kick this thing?"
"Uh uh," Cam shook her head decisively. "I am not your personal pharmacy. You wanna see me, you better come through that door with a toe tag."
"Aw, com'on, Camille," he whined between coughs, "cut a guy a break."
"No can do, Seeley. What is it with men and doctors?"
"Hey, I'm here aren't I?" he tried to muster a charm smile.
"Come back in a week or two and I'll give you the best Y-incision in town," she smirked. "I'm sure you'll need it by then."
"You see dead people," he grumbled, "got it."
"And to ensure that you do I'm going to get back to work now," she said, lowering her face mask and starting up one of her saws as she turned to the current body on her slab.
He got out of the morgue in a hurry and started wandering around the lab aimlessly. He yawned, trying not to think about how much he'd tossed and turned the night before, and found himself outside of her office. The fact that she wasn't there didn't mean that her couch was any less inviting, he thought to himself as he jimmied the lock and let himself in.
He slipped off his sneakers, pulling the blanket off of the back of the couch and enveloping himself in the scent that was his partner and closed his eyes.
Soft laughter lured him back to consciousness and for a moment he thought maybe she'd come back early to take care of him.
"Hey, Studly," Angela's grin met him as he slowly pulled himself up, "missing something? Or someone?"
"Time is it?" he rubbed his eyes, hating the fact that there were no windows in Bones' office.
"Time for you to leave for your appointment," she offered a sympathetic smile. "Cam set you up and sent me to find you when you didn't answer your cell. Did you have sweet dreams?"
Booth hid any real answer behind a glare and a coughing jag. Her eyebrows rose, but he was coughing again and when he looked back up she had left.
Present day
Booth smirked to himself, remembering how he'd spent three hours in the waiting room and had not been pleased when they started sucking his blood to run tests on; complaining that if they weren't careful, they'd turn him into a vampire. The doc had shined his flashlight and choked him with a cotton swab before sending him off with a prescription and instructions not to go to work the next day.
And now here he was, standing outside of her apartment armed with a tub full of her favorite frozen yogurt and some movies for them to watch, wondering how in the world he was going to own up to giving her the kissing disease and almost hoping that she was too sick to kick him in the testicles for it.
Thanks for all the great feedback! I'm having fun with this campy piece and in the meantime, I found my Blue muse so be looking for an update soon there.
Gum :)
