"Oh, honey, you're burning up," Martin said as he took his hand away from John's forehead. He tried not to sound relieved. They had been Somewhere Else for a few months, and neither of them knew if their vaccinations actually counted here. For all they knew, the flus that they had been exposed to in their homeworld were incredibly rare strains here. For all they knew, the strains here were so wildly different that he and John had no antibodies that could fight them off.

But when John had wasted away from statement hunger, he hadn't been feverish. The Eye really had let go of him.

"Let me go make you some soup," Martin continued.

"We ran out of cans… a week ago? Two?" John's eyebrows drew together in a frustrated way.

Right. Right. I also don't think we have cold medicine. I'll head to the shops and pick some up. Anything else you want?"

"How about canned peaches?"

"Alright, you, you're well enough to joke, which means you're well enough to go back to bed on your own."

"What about a kiss?"

"You're sick. We can't both get sick." Before Martin left, he blew a kiss in John's direction.