This one's being put up a little later than I usually upload them. The reason? I just haven't felt like sitting down and typing one freaking page of text. Yeah, I'm pretty pathetic.

Anyway, this one's fitting since I'm sick. Though, admittedly, I'm feeling much better today.

Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade.

Enjoy!

Sick Day

Mariam groaned, throwing her millionth tissue down on the bed. She hated being sick. Every time she blew her nose it made no difference, breathing was out of the question, when she did manage to catch a breath she either coughed or sneezed, all food tasted like packing peanuts, whenever she changed positions her head throbbed, she ached all over, she was so out of it that she had no idea what went on most of the time, and, to top it all off, she looked and sounded like a nasally man.

Max returned to their room after another massive upheaval and flopped down on the bed. Mariam rolled onto her stomach and pressed their burning foreheads together, laying halfway on top of him. She traced his jawline, gently, keeping in mind the one advantage of both of them being sick.

"You don't look so good, Maxie," she purred, toying with his fevered mind.

"Well, you look gorgeous." Even in sickness, Max didn't lose his charm.

She rolled her eyes and kissed his lips gently, glad that he'd thought to brush his teeth before coming back to bed.

"Do you want me to call in sick for you?" she offered, nuzzling her nose against his, having pulled away from a rather reluctant-to-part pair of lips.

"You sound enough like me right now to do it, but I don't think anyone's there this early." He eyed the alarm clock on his bedside table as Mariam narrowed her eyes. "It's only three in the morning. There's a chance I'll still be able to go to work and that I'll be the one calling in sick for you."

"Or," Mariam wore a grin that could be compared to the Cheshire Cat's. "we could call in sick for each other and spend the day together." She walked her fingers up his torso and poked him in the chest. "How do you like the sound of that?"

"It's appealing," he admitted.

"Well, then..."

He sighed and reached for the phone. He could always leave a message.

A/N: Would you believe that I hated this drabble so much that the only part that stayed was the first paragraph? Well, it's true. I've found that being sick can either make you produce amazing writing, or dreadfully crappy stuff. I got stuck with the latter, so here's a completely rewritten piece for you.

Review? Seven more and you all get a request.