A/N: Part 4! I enjoy writing the modern stuff; it's my jam, man. I hope you all enjoy! Thanks for the reviews!

Inspired by the prompt: "You, me, PJ's, pizza, bed. The PJ's are optional." And because I wanted to quote Parks & Rec.

This is done purely for fun; I mean absolutely no offense by any of it! I hope no one is offended. I have nothing but the utmost respect for these men.

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Part 4: Cartwheels

Sam was sick.

She was sick, and she was not going to fucking admit it.

But when she woke up that morning with a stuffy nose, a stuffy head, and an achy body, she decided that maybe, yeah, okay, she was a little sick.

But she still wouldn't admit it. Not to Gene, at least.

She'd called in to work, left Gene a message telling him she wanted a 'me' night, turned off her phone, and promptly fell asleep. She didn't think that would come back to bite in her in the ass, of course. But she was oh so wrong, and she found that out only a few hours after she'd chugged some Nyquil and declared herself dead to the world.

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Gene had snuck into Sam's home (he had a spare key, but she honestly figured he wouldn't come over that day; he respected her 'me' time and was always completely cool with it) and was a little alarmed to find that all the lights were out. It wasn't normal behavior, and neither was the fact that his calls went straight to voicemail. He'd finally wheedled it out of Frannie that Sam was sick, and he'd sighed and called Babe, asking for a favor.

The red-head had been happy to comply.

Cue a few hours later when the two of them were sneaking into Sam's house with a thermos of Babe's chicken noodle soup (Sam would forgive him for disturbing her; he brought Babe as a peace offering).

"What the heck?" Babe muttered. "Dude, she must be really sick if she isn't even watching those shitty romance movies she's always sucking us into."

Gene and Sam had been together now for over four months, and in that time, she'd completely glommed onto Babe, forcing him to join in on 'shitty movie night' once a week at the very least, and bringing him beer in exchange for food. Both complained that they were going to make each other fat, but they settled into a very easy friendship that Gene was glad to see.

The two moved further into the apartment, and Gene motioned for Babe to head to the kitchen to set the soup on the counter while he checked on Sam. The lights in her room were out, the door opened just slightly, and he peeked in, seeing nothing but a shapeless lump on her bed. "Sam?" he called, pushing open the door and closing it behind him. "You feelin' all right, chére?"

He heard a rustling from under the covers, and a low groan, and Sam's pink-tinged face peeked out at him in confusion, brows knit and eyes narrowed as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Gene?" she mumbled, trying to sit up. "What the heck are you doing here? It's a 'me' day…"

"'Me' days only count if ya aren't sick," he replied, stroking a hand over her forehead and feeling the fever in her skin.

"I'm not sick," she protested, trying to pull away from him and managing only a feeble, weak attempt.

"Yes you are."

"No. If I was sick, could I do this?"

Gene waited for something to happen, but she just kept staring at him with bleary, unfocused eyes. "Um…do what?"

"Cartwheels. Am I not doing them?"

He smothered a laugh before he gently pushed her back onto the bed. "No, not in the slightest. Lay down. Have you taken anything for this yet?"

"Nyquil? I think. I dunno. Everything is hazy."

Shaking his head, Gene lamented the way doctors and nurses always took care of other people better than they did themselves; he was guilty of it too. "Well, Babe an' I came to see how you was doin', and he made ya some soup." He saw her perk up just slightly, eyes brightening only a little, before her tiredness claimed her again. "You eaten anythin' today?"

"Nyquil, Gene. I ate Nyquil."

"Nyquil ain't food."

"It is when you feel like shit."

"You are the worst sick person I ever met."

Gene stood back up, smoothing his hand over her forehead and across her sweat-soaked hair, gently tucking the blankets around her. She immediately pulled them up closer, a smile curling over her face.

"You can come to bed, if you want," she muttered blearily, and he shook his head.

"I don' think I should. You need to get better. Babe's here. And I don' wanna catch whatever ya got."

"Come oooon," Sam whined, and he knew her words were fever induced. She looked like she was on the verge of conking out any second. "You, me, PJ's, bed. The PJ's are optional." She tried to waggle her eyebrows, but it looked more like a scrunched up sick face to Gene, and he held back his laughter for her sake.

"Temptin' as that sounds, I think that is best saved for another time. You get some sleep, an' when you wake up, you can have some soup. Sound good?"

"Yes, mother."

Gene scowled at her as she giggled sleepily, though his face smoothed into a fond expression as she drifted quickly off, her breathing evening out. He had to admit, despite his worry over her being sick, she was incredibly adorable. And her offer to come to bed was really, really tempting. But she needed her rest, and he gently patted her cheek, before he slipped out of the room and back into the kitchen.

Babe was lounging on the sofa, the TV already on and the volume down low as he flipped through channels.

"What the verdict, doc?" he asked, glancing up. "She okay, or what?"

"She's just a little sick," Gene admitted, stepping into the kitchen and placing the thermos of soup in the microwave to keep it from getting cold; it was better than the fried when it came to hot things. "She'll be fine with a lil' rest and some medicine." He looked torn as he went to settle next to Babe on the couch, chewing his lip thoughtfully. "I wish I had tomorrow off; she ain't goin' into work, but I gotta. I really wish someone could come check in on her."

"'Ey, tomorrow is Saturday, so I ain't got nothin' goin' on," Babe informed him. "Well, nothin' that can't be canceled. I'll stay with her tomorrow so you can go to work and not worry about your red-haired princess. Sound good?"

Gene swatted his friend in the shoulder at the teasing, but nodded nonetheless, relief flowing through him. "Thanks Babe, I 'preciate it."

The two fell into an easy silence, absently watching some cartoon or other on the television, with Babe not too interested and Gene not really seeing it as he thought of Sam and fretted over her.

"Hey Gene."

Gene rolled his head towards Babe, frowning, and raised a brow in question.

"You called me 'Babe.'"

"I did? When?" He seemed genuinely surprised, and scowled when Babe laughed.

"Just now."

"Babe…I guess I did."

Babe grinned as he settled into the couch. A few seconds later, he gave his head a shake, imitating Gene's accent. "'Babe.'"

"Heffron, just watch the God damn cartoons, all right?"