Please be aware that this chapter contains adult themes. Thank you so much for following this story, and I absolutely love to read reviews, so a huge thank you to everybody who has taken the time to comment. It means the world! Enjoy!

Delia was stunned by Patsy's sudden exit. The redhead had marched from the room, eyes red-rimmed and watery. The loss of her presence in the room created a tangible hole, and the silence that she left was suffocating. Lifting her hands to her temple, Delia tried to massage away the pain inside her head, but the new quiet seemed to make the ache intensify.

"Delia?"

For a fleeting instant, Delia thought it was Patsy, and her heart leapt, but when the knock and call came again, she realised that it was Trixie. It took her a while to engage her brain and answer.

"Yes?"

"Do you mind if I come in?"

"No, of course not,"

The door shut behind her and Trixie dragged the chair over to Delia's bedside.

"I'm sorry, I heard raised voices and then Patsy stormed into my room. She won't speak to me, so I hoped that you would,"

"We had a bit of a fight,"

"You did?"

Delia nodded, picking at a loose thread on her quilt cover.

"Do you mind if I ask why?"

"It all happened a bit fast. I tried to get out of bed, because if my mother arrives to find me unable to look after myself, she might drag me back to Wales, and then I fell, and Patsy caught me, and… I tried to push her off me. She virtually wrestled me back into bed,"

"I see,"

Delia groaned and leant her head back against the wall.

"It's my fault, isn't it?"

Trixie gave an apologetic smile.

"It does sound like Patsy was just trying to help you,"

Delia nodded, "I know. I was just upset and tired, and frustrated at being stuck in here,"

"I don't want to make you feel guilty, or patronise you, Delia," Trixie began, "But Patsy hasn't left your side since you got sick. She's barely left this room herself, and she hasn't really slept either. She worries enormously about you, but I don't think that she wants to say so because she knows that you hate to be fussed over. The fact is that she loves you more than anything, and she cares about you far too much to let you go,"

Delia paused as the what Trixie was saying sunk in.

"I understand that. Thank you, Trixie,"

"Don't thank me. Thank Patsy. She's having a much-needed sleep at the moment, but when she's woken up, I'll send her in to see you,"

"Please do,"

Trixie's word resonated within Delia. The guilt felt awful, but her utter adoration for Patsy seemed to explode within her heart. She had not realised quite how attentive Patsy had been throughout the last week. In truth, her memory of the past few days was hazy, but when she thought closely about it, she could recall a constant companion in the room with her.

"Patsy,"

Now Patsy's bloodshot eyes and trembling lip made sense. Delia could not believe that she had not realised earlier.

Night fell quickly, and Delia, who had been absorbed in her thoughts, stared around, newly aware that she was now sat in darkness. She turned on the bedside lamp, and it cast a warm glow around the cosy room. Gritting her teeth, Delia managed to make her way over to the little mirror on the chest of drawers. Grabbing her brush, she combed her brown hair, working out the tangles and leaving it sleek and shiny. Her cheeks were pale, and she pinched them lightly, bringing back some of their natural colour.

The sound of knuckles tapping against the door interrupted her, and she turned around. Her girlfriend was leant against the doorframe, her hands in the pockets of her slacks.

"I would ask you if you should really be out of bed," Patsy said, staring resolutely at the ground, "But I won't"

Delia sat back onto her chest of drawers, "No, I want you to,"

The blue eyes flicked up to survey her; the expression was cynical.

"Excuse me if I'm not in the mood for games tonight,"

"I'm not playing games with you, Pats. I want to apologise. The way you have been looking after me since I became ill is above and beyond the call of duty. I can't express in words how grateful I am to you, or how sorry I am for not recognising it earlier,"

Patsy's stare softened and it was clear that she was smiling, even with the lack of light.

"I just want the best for you Delia,"

Delia stepped towards her and looked up at her, the brightness that the meningitis had sapped from her eyes now shining through again.

"Patience Mount, you are the best thing for me… And I want to prove it to you. I said that I can't express it in words… but I can express it in something else…"

Delia's right hand cupped Patsy's cheek and her left hand rested on her hip… and she could not resist any longer.

Patsy pulled her in, pressing her lips against Delia's, feeling their delightful softness. Her fingers wound into her hair, bringing her closer still. The muscles inside of Delia's stomach clenched with excitement, for this side of Patsy could never cease to intrigue or amaze her. She became aware that her nightie was beginning to ride up her thighs, and she felt Patsy's fingertips tracing over her legs, leaving paths of tingling nerves in their wake.

An audible gasp escaped her when Patsy's mouth began to work its wonders along her neck, and her knees almost gave way when her tongue flicked across the sensitive skin of her collarbone. Her head was spinning, and her eyes flew open as Patsy suddenly moved away, one hand holding Delia at arm's length.

"Don't stop,"

"Delia, you've only just been able to leave your bed. We shouldn't be doing this now. It can wait,"

The Welshwoman pouted, knowing full well that it was an expression that Patsy found particularly alluring.

"I can't,"

"Well, you're going to have to. It's Nurse Mount's orders," she smirked.

"Patsy, don't do this, please,"

The redhead felt herself being scorched by Delia's beseeching gaze and sighed.

"You've been very ill…"

"… and I'll be even more so if you neglect me now. I know that you want this, Patsy, and I do too,"

Delia grasped Patsy's wrist and she guided her hand downwards. Soon the evidence of her want coated the redhead's fingers.

"You see?"

Patsy could not speak, but she took a gulp of air and nodded.

"So… what do you say?"

Catching her lip between her teeth, Patsy gently flexed her fingers against her, watching Delia's breath catch in her throat, and her pupils dilate. Her beloved's whole body was quivering with need.

"Delia Busby, shouldn't you be in bed?"

Patsy's voice was husky with lust, and her irises glinted with humour.

Delia's hand seized Patsy's shirt and pulled her forward until the back of her thighs hit the mattress. The look on her face could only be described as salacious, and Patsy was deeply entranced.

"Only if I've got company,"

Patsy cocked her eyebrow, and lowered Delia down onto the covers so that she was stretched out below her.

"Oh really?"

Delia's legs lifted up to wrap around Patsy's hips. Even through their clothing, the extraordinary pulsing heat emanating from the apex of Delia's thighs was warming Patsy's lower stomach.

"Really,"

"Well then," Patsy smiled, clicking the bedside lamp off beside her, "I suppose that settles it,"