Summary: Mateo catches a cold and tries to hide it with very little success. Naomi contemplates her friend group's workaholism.

Filling out belated requisition forms would have gone a lot faster if the pages didn't keep flying off while Naomi was trying to sign them. The sheet in front of her was already purple and wriggling, and she'd pressed her entire forearm onto it to hold it steady while she put the pen to it with the other hand. Half her name later, and she caught a flutter out of the corner of her eye as papers began to peel off the top of the unsigned stack beside her. She slapped her palm down on top of it, pinning the stray pages, only for the one she was signing to make its escape and flutter toward the ceiling of the Grand Council chamber, where it joined its half-finished brethren in circling overhead like a flock of vultures.

Naomi leaned back in her chair with a huff. This was getting ridiculous.

Elena had been fidgety and upset all afternoon, and if the way she kept squirming in her chair and drilling her fingers against the table as she worked hadn't made that obvious, the way her dress had been strobing purple and sending the hapless paperwork skyward certainly had. Her dress pulsed again, and she took a deep, exaggerated breath to bring it back to red, but not before her own stack of incomplete forms suddenly became much thinner, the top half making their quick ascent into the growing cyclone. Elena remained oblivious, as engrossed in her work as she was, and slid the completed form aside and grabbed a new one from her stack, all without looking up.

Naomi watched as the newly-completed form also drifted away. "So, what's on your mind?" she asked, finally breaking the tense silence.

Elena jolted, the tip of her pen scratching harshly across the paper.

"What?" she blurted, and then let out a quiet sigh. "You startled me. There's nothing really—I just want to get this all done sooner rather than later."

"Really? Because you seem kinda…" Elena's dress flashed again, "...purple, today."

"I feel fine!"

"Uh-huh. Tell that to Hurricane Elena."

She blinked, perplexed, and then finally looked up. At the sight of the wayward paperwork, she slumped back against her seat with a groan. "How long has that been up there?"

"How long have we been working?"

Grimacing, Elena crossed her arms. "Okay, I get the picture. The better question is probably what isn't on my mind? Isa's having trouble with one of her classmates again, and King Hector keeps pestering me about renegotiating our last trade deal, and we still have to finish all these requisitions, which apparently," she swept an arm toward the ceiling, "my magic—which I still can't control, so add that to the list—is making way harder than it needs to be." She tugged at her hair. "And all this would be so much easier to deal with if someone hadn't decided to betray the family—"

Her jaw locked, and her dress flared again, a brief flash of vibrant orange that crumpled several of the swirling papers and pitched them to the ground like hailstones. Naomi tensed, prepared to dive under the table if anything heavier started flying around.

But Elena drew another deliberate breath and the glow of her anger magic faded. Naomi let the relative silence rest for a moment to give her a chance to cool back off, listening to her measured breathing and the rustling of spinning papers.

"It's all just a lot," she finally continued, "and I don't have a good way to deal with it all at once."

Naomi hummed out a sympathetic sound. "Well, 'all at once' probably isn't the way to go. And all by yourself probably isn't the way either." She counted the issues off on her fingers. "Your sister's a smart kid, and even if she can't fix her issue on her own, she still has your grandparents she can go to for help. You can probably pass King Hector off to Julio, and you and I are handling the paperwork right now." She thought better of addressing the Esteban Problem, which just left—"And Mateo's helping you with your magic, right?"

Even with the omission, Elena winced, and Naomi braced for flying furniture. Instead of another burst of orange, though, her dress darkened to hover on the edge between red and violet.

"Actually," she started again, her voice small, "that's the other issue. I think Mateo's mad at me."

Naomi stared. "He's Mateo," she said when Elena didn't elaborate. "If he was mad at you, you wouldn't have to think it, you'd know. He's not subtle."

"He's been avoiding me ever since I had you guys try to help me control my emotion magic."

That had been three days prior. It wasn't uncommon for Mateo to get so wrapped up in a project that he'd lose an entire day to it, and end up inadvertently dodging his friends in the process, but seventy two hours was a lot, even by his standards.

"Huh. That is pretty weird," Naomi admitted. "What exactly happened?"

"I asked him to make me feel sad, so he told me a story about a lost puppy, and when I started to cry, my magic made it rain on him."

So that was how he'd ended up so soaked that day. Naomi had wanted to ask about it, but they'd been hiding behind a sofa and it didn't seem like the best moment, and he'd taken off to prepare for a lesson with his apprentice shortly afterward. In fairness, she could see why he would want to stay out of Elena's way the rest of that afternoon—she and Gabe hadn't been keen on getting within the blast radius of Elena's volatile new magic either after bearing the brunt of it themselves—but still, three days?

Although now that she was thinking about it, Naomi hadn't spoken with Mateo at all since then. She figured he'd been busy—the one time she spotted him leaving the library, she'd barely called his name before he'd swiveled around and disappeared back inside, and Naomi had just assumed he'd forgotten something. She had no reason at the time to believe he was deliberately avoiding her, but she also didn't live at the palace and didn't usually expect to run into him multiple times a day. If he'd been pulling stunts like that with Elena for almost half a week, then there was something else going on.

Naomi straightened up. "Okay, how about this: I'll go talk to Mateo and figure out what his problem is. I still don't think he's angry with you, but I can at least get the Mateo Mystery off your plate." She had a pretty decent record with sleuthing, anyway.

Elena sat back up as well, a relieved smile on her face. "I would appreciate that. Thank you."

The circle of papers shuddered against the ceiling, and then rained down onto the two of them in a flurry of white and ink, finally settled.

Naomi blew a page out of her face. "Sure," she said, watching Elena clap a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. "It's no problem."

If the painting was shut, Mateo wasn't home. At least, that was the heuristic Naomi had been using for over two and a half years, and it had served her pretty well. Still, he hadn't turned up in any of his other usual haunts when Naomi had passed by his bedroom and looped around the gardens, which left his closed-up workshop as the only obvious place she hadn't looked yet.

She rapped on the frame of the painting. "Mateo? You in there?"

Silence. Naomi strained her ears to see if she could hear him shuffling around inside, to no avail.

"Are you actually not there or are you just hiding?"

Still nothing. Doubt started to seep into Naomi's mind. If he wasn't there, either, she didn't really know where else to look. Maybe she had just missed him back in his room?

She had just turned and started for the library door, though, when she heard a sharp gasp from behind the painting, followed by a poorly concealed sneeze. Naomi stared.

"Okay," she tried again, "so you're either Mateo, and you're just being a jerk, or you're not Mateo, in which case I need you to sit tight for a minute while I go and get some guards to break the door down."

"Wait, wait, don't do that," Mateo said, his voice muffled through the door. "It's just me."

"And?"

"...and I'm being a jerk."

Naomi gave a satisfied nod, even though he couldn't see her. "And now that we've established that, can you open up? I wanna talk to you about something."

Something rustled inside the workshop, but the painting didn't show any signs of opening. "But we're talking right now?"

"Face to face, Mateo. I'm not having this conversation with a wall. I can barely hear you as it is."

Mateo let out an exasperated groan, as if he had any business being the annoyed one, but there was a click and the painting slid open, anyway.

Naomi pushed her way in before he could get any funny ideas about locking her out again. "You look terrible," she remarked as she squeezed past and took in his disheveled state. He seemed exhausted, with bruise-colored bags under his eyes and his oversized robes looking more rumpled than usual.

"Thanks," he muttered, shooting her a dirty look as he leaned back against one of the columns. "What was it you needed?"

His voice still sounded off, even without a door between them, and he was squinting against the dim lighting of his workshop, his entire face scrunched up in discomfort. He was shivering, the tremor barely visible in his crossed arms, and the longer Naomi watched, the more it seemed like his casual lean was less about looking nonchalant and more about keeping himself upright.

"Well, I was here to figure out why you've been avoiding everyone the last few days, but I think I just got an answer to that. How long have you been sick?"

An uncomfortable-sounding laugh, garbled by congestion, came out of his mouth. "I don't know what you're—" And then he twisted away, letting out a series of wet, hacking coughs into his elbow.

Naomi wrinkled her nose at the sound, but finally approached while he caught his breath, reaching for his forehead. He made a tiny, distressed sound and tried to lean away from her touch, closing his eyes, but he was still pressed up against the column, and his head bumped into it with a dull thump. Naomi's hand made contact, and she cringed at the feeling of damp hair and too-warm skin beneath her palm.

"You're burning up," she said. "Why are you still working right now?"

Mateo made another pained noise. "If I took off I'd have to tell Elena why." He cracked his eyes back open. They looked glassy and tired. "I didn't want her to worry about it, or think it was her fault."

Naomi took a step back. "Why would Elena think that you getting sick was somehow her…" She trailed off, the timing of it all mapping out in her head. The emotion magic practice, Mateo getting drenched, him becoming a sudden recluse immediately after—it added up. "Did Elena's magic get you sick?"

"No!" Mateo's voice cracked at the volume and he pressed a hand to his mouth to cover another cough. "Olivia was pretty sniffly during our lesson after that. She said there was something going around her school." He groaned, slumping further against the column. "I must have caught whatever she had."

The wet clothes probably hadn't helped, but Naomi held her tongue.

"Look, Elena's just got a lot going on right now, between her magic, and Esteban, and…" He sighed, letting his eyes slide shut again. "I didn't want to give her anything else to worry about."

"A little late for that," Naomi remarked. "She thinks you're still mad at her about the waterworks."

Mateo snapped to attention, his face falling in dismay. "What?"

"You've been avoiding her. What was she supposed to think?"

He didn't respond, instead just sinking in on himself, his expression panged with guilt and fatigue.

Naomi used the lull to take stock of the rest of his workshop. A half-finished project was strewn across the worktable, and a stack of reference books was piled up on the chair in the corner instead of being neatly shelved. Something had boiled over in the potion cauldron and had yet to be cleaned back up, save for a single stripe down the side. A dirty rag lay abandoned on the counter beside it.

"Are you even getting anything done like this?" she asked, and when Mateo didn't reply, simply turning his face further away, "Alright, so here are your options: you either go lie down in your room and I'll go get the doctor, or you go straight to the palace infirmary yourself."

He peeked over at her. "What's option three?"

"I go get Elena, because you actually listen to her."

"I listen to you," Mateo mumbled, but he took one look at Naomi's frown and raised eyebrow and caved. "I think I'll go lie down."

"Good."

"Right after I clean this up." He started for his worktable, but Naomi grabbed him by his elbow.

"Will it explode if you leave it?"

Mateo blinked at her, bewildered. "Uh, no? I don't think so? That shouldn't be something it can do—"

"Mateo. I'm asking if it has to be cleaned up now, or if it can wait until you're better."

"Oh. Well… I guess it can wait—"

That was all the confirmation Naomi needed, and she cut him off with a gentle push toward the door. He let out an indignant squawk as he stumbled forward that quickly turned into another coughing fit, and Naomi watched with a rueful stare. She'd been treading a line between annoyance and concern the entire conversation, unsure if she should be upset with him for hiding his illness and turning it into a whole thing in the process, or upset for him and the fact that he was feeling so awful. Either way, though, he didn't need her making it worse.

"Can you make it to your room?" she asked as she closed the painting behind them. He'd stopped coughing, but was leaning against the library wall with his eyes closed and his face screwed up, one hand rubbing at his temple.

"Sure," he managed, his voice coming out raspy. He tried to clear his throat to no avail, the sound turning into another weak cough that he muffled against his arm.

Naomi sighed. "Yeah, alright. C'mere." She looped an arm around his back and pried him away from the wall, and with his arm across her shoulders, the two finally left the library.

His room wasn't far, thankfully—with the proximity, Mateo's condition seemed even worse. Naomi could feel him shivering, as well as the uncomfortable heat radiating off his body, and another surge of equal parts worry and frustration welled up in her.

"How is it that none of my friends know how to take breaks," she muttered. "You'll work yourself through a fever, Elena's constantly adopting everyone else's problems, and I'm pretty sure Gabe sleeps in his uniform."

"Sorry." Mateo shifted beside her. "But there's a lot of important stuff going on right now, and we're just trying to do our jobs—"

"Good luck doing that when you can barely stand!" Naomi shot back, incredulous. "Look, I know we all have a duty to the kingdom or whatever but somehow I don't think 'getting sick on behalf of the crown' was part of our terms of employment." The amount of responsibility on her shoulders as a grand councilor could already be overwhelming. She couldn't imagine trying to keep up with it when she wasn't feeling well. "Am I the odd one out here for not wanting to make myself miserable?"

"I'm not miserable; I'm sick."

"I dunno, you sound pretty miserable right now!" They'd reached his bedroom, and Naomi shoved the door open with more force than necessary. "You know, for such a smart guy, you sure make some stupid decisions."

Mateo winced. "Sorry," he said again, sounding small. "I just didn't want anyone to worry."

Naomi paused and looked over at his despondent expression, feeling her own softening. "We're your friends, Mateo. We're supposed to do that."

She guided him across his room and up to his bed, cursing whichever architect thought putting it at the top of a flight of curved, handrail-less stairs was a good idea. His legs were shaking the entire way up and he all but collapsed once he reached the bed, flopping face-first into the middle of it.

"I draw the line at helping you change into your pajamas," she said as he kicked his boots off, letting them drop beside the bed. "You can figure that one out on your own."

"Mm. Just gonna sleep in my robe," he mumbled into his sheets, tugging the hood over his head. "Warmer."

Naomi watched him curl in on himself, exhausted enough that he'd dropped any pretense of not being unwell. "Don't get too comfortable—I'm gonna send a doctor here in a few minutes."

Mateo hummed out a response and wriggled his way under the covers until just a lump of red fabric was poking out at the top.

"Well, sleep well," she went on, hopping back down to the main floor of his room. "I'll go get the doctor, fill Elena and everyone in on what's going on."

The bed rustled as Mateo pushed himself back out of his cocoon in a rush, looking dazed. "But I thought—"

"Look, I'm not gonna not tell her."

"I don't want her to worry…"

"She's already worried," Naomi reminded him. "Might as well make sure she's worried about the right thing."

Mateo didn't respond, but Naomi caught the resigned look in his eyes just before he burrowed back under.

She sighed through her nose. "Get some rest," she said, and made to leave, but she paused by the door. "You know people actually worry less when you tell them about your problems, right?" she asked, to no response, and she couldn't tell if he was ignoring her or if he'd already fallen asleep. Either way, she gave one last look at the Mateo-shaped lump on the bed, and then pulled the door closed behind her.

"If his cold doesn't kill him, I will!" Naomi spat, drawing an exaggerated, congested sniffle for emphasis.

Elena gave her arm a sympathetic pat, even as Naomi twisted in her hammock to cough in the other direction.

Of course she had caught Mateo's cold. Of course she had. She'd woken up the morning after talking to him with a tickle in her throat, and by the end of the Grand Council meeting that day she felt like she'd been run over by a carriage. Her muscles ached and her chest rattled with every cough, and it was all she could do to stumble back home and hide in a blanket nest in her room.

"How is it that you and Gabe haven't gotten sick?" she demanded, shooting Elena a betrayed look.

"We've just gotten lucky, I guess." She pressed a hand to Naomi's forehead, smoothing back her hair. "I hope you feel better soon. It's been weird at the palace with both you and Mateo out.

Naomi let out a grumble, pulling her blanket more tightly around herself. "So how's he doing, anyway?"

"Still laid up. The doctor said he'll probably be out for the rest of the week, and he's supposed to mostly stay in bed until his fever breaks."

Poor guy. "Hmph. Good. Serves him right."

Elena gave her a reproachful look before perking back up. "Oh! He asked me to pass a message along to you. He says he's really sorry that he got you sick—"

Naomi sank further into her blankets, nodding.

"—but that this possibility was part of why he didn't want to tell anyone in the first place."

Any of her more charitable feelings toward Mateo evaporated in an instant. "Yeah, well, you can tell him this!" And rather than say anything, she made a rude gesture in the air.

Elena watched her hand with a raised eyebrow. "I'm not doing that. If it makes you feel better, Gabe and I already told him off for hiding it, too."

Naomi groaned, her brief burst of annoyed energy spent. "Yeah, okay," she muttered, "can't do anything but ride it out now, anyway." She sighed and closed her eyes. Her head was starting to pound from the excitement, but she wasn't ready to send her company away yet, either. "So how's everything else going?" she asked, surprised by how thready she sounded.

Even without looking, she could imagine the way Elena's face softened with sympathy, and she kept her voice low and gentle to avoid aggravating Naomi's symptoms further. "Well, you were right as usual. About not trying to handle everything myself," she clarified when Naomi cracked an eye open. "Isa went and talked to her teacher about her classmate and got that all straightened out, and Julio pacified King Hector in half the time it would've taken me. There's still a mountain of paperwork left, but…" Her strained smile was audible. "I know how much you love helping me with that, so I've been saving it for the time being."

Naomi managed a weak chuckle. "You don't wanna do it, do you?"

"Oh, not at all. I want to be out hunting for Ash and Esteban." She almost spat his name out.

"Half your team is already dying. Maybe don't go after them alone right now."

Elena scoffed. "Um, does that seem like something I'd do?"

Naomi opened her eyes again to fix her with a smirk, and she slumped down, crossing her arms.

"I know. Don't say it."

A door opened somewhere downstairs and Naomi could pick out bits of a muffled conversation before someone bounded up the creaky steps and crossed the hall to her bedroom.

"Naomi?" Gabe called, knocking on the door. "You up for another visitor?"

"Sure, let's make it a party," she replied through a sniffle, and Gabe stepped into the room, peering around Elena to get a good look at Naomi's sorry state.

"Aww, you look like the world's saddest burrito," he teased.

Naomi scowled. "Never mind. Out."

"But I brought some of my dad's marranitos from the bakery." Gabe held up a tin and gave it a tiny shake. "They're pretty strong. He says they should clear your sinuses right out."

Narrowing her eyes, Naomi considered the offering. "Okay, fine. You can stay."

Elena had taken the only chair in the room, so Gabe opted to just lean against the wall by Naomi's head. He popped the tin open and set it down on the end table within her reach.

"Elena was just telling me that me and Mateo getting sick was all part of her master plan," Naomi said, fumbling an arm out of her blanket cocoon so she could grab one of the pig-shaped treats. "It's all so she can keep us from keeping her from going after the bad guys alone." She looked up at Gabe, shaking the cookie at him for emphasis. "You better keep an eye out."

Elena rolled her eyes and let out another scoffing sound, but Gabe just gave a hearty laugh.

"Don't give her any ideas," he said. "But I think if I was gonna get sick, I would've caught it off Mateo by now. How're you feeling? Your dad said you were asleep most of the morning."

"I've been better," she said through a mouthful of gingerbread. She couldn't taste much, as congested as she was, but she could tell Sr. Núñez had gone heavy on the ginger, because her nose was starting to drip. "But I've been worse, too. It's easier with company," she admitted, taking another nibble of her marranito.

"What I was actually telling her was just what's been going on at the palace," Elena said. "Help me fill her in?"

Gabe nodded. "Sure thing."

Even with food, Naomi felt her energy flagging, and soon she lacked the strength to participate in the conversation. She settled back in, letting their chatter wash over her. For all her aches and discomfort, being cared for felt cozy, and the sound of her friends just talking helped her to relax. Their voices had become almost unintelligible by the time someone nudged her shoulder, and she dragged her eyes open, unable to recall when she'd closed them.

"We're gonna head out so you can get some rest," Elena said, her voice low.

"We can come by another time, if you're up to having visitors," Gabe added.

Naomi wasn't sure how she responded, but it must have been some kind of acknowledgement or affirmation, because when she blinked again their silhouettes had retreated toward the door.

"Get well soon," the Elena-shape said, and the two slipped out of the room, closing the door behind them.

Naomi had barely crossed the threshold to the Grand Council chamber when she found herself tackled into a tight hug.

"Naomi! You're back!" Elena gave her another squeeze before springing back and grasping her hands. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," Naomi said, smiling. It had been a week since her fever had first spiked, and she'd finally shaken the cough and the worst of the aches. She was still a bit fatigued, but she'd gotten tired of lying around all day and had been itching to get back in the action.

Elena beamed. "I'm glad! You missed so much while you were out. There was Octavio's feud with Armando, and the rogue jaquin..." She led Naomi into the room as she carried on, but Naomi stopped listening as her eyes fell on its other occupant.

Mateo had pulled a chair up by Elena's and had evidently been helping her organize some documents before she had catapulted herself across the room at Naomi. He was sitting upright and watching them with a broad smile, and he gave a little wave as Naomi made eye contact.

"Good to see you," he said.

Naomi's eyes narrowed. "You."

"Uh," the smile stayed fixed on his face, but the mirth vanished from his eyes. He shot an anxious glance at Elena, a silent plea for intervention. "Me?"

"You got me sick!" She marched toward the table, brushing past Elena, and Mateo jumped out of his chair, almost toppling it.

"Okay, so, I did apologize," he said through a nervous chuckle, his palms out in front of him.

Naomi started rounding the table, and Mateo circled in the same direction, letting out another giggle.

"You sent Elena to apologize for you!"

"I was sick!" He almost tripped over himself as Naomi feinted the other way. "You were the one that—h-hey!"

Naomi chased him in a full loop around the table and then doubled back to make him scramble, stopping when her back was to the window and his was to the door. He was still smiling, the cheeky jerk. Granted, Naomi was struggling to keep her own expression in check, and she could only hope the smile creeping onto her face at least looked menacing. Enough messing around. She lifted a foot up onto the chair and hoisted herself onto the table, stomping across and scattering pens and papers in her wake.

"Naomi!" Elena chided, laughing, and Mateo let out a sound somewhere between a scream and a cackle as he sprinted for the door, running headlong into Gabe as he entered.

"Um," he started, but Mateo had already grabbed hold and swung himself around, placing Gabe between him and Naomi.

"Gabe! Perfect timing! Do your guard thing!"

Gabe glanced back at Mateo and then met Naomi's eyes as she jumped down from the table, landed with a thud, and took another few steps toward him. She put her hands on her hips, staring up at him with all the mock severity she could muster.

He stepped aside, his hands up. "Hey, he's all yours."

Mateo gasped. "You traitor!" And then he ducked out into the hallway and darted off, his footsteps receding on the stone.

Naomi poked her head out into the hall and spied where he'd stopped by the corner at the far end. He bounced on the spot, still grinning, like he was expecting her to give chase again, but Naomi had already burnt through most of her energy reserve. She shook a fist at him instead.

"I'll get you yet!"

"Alright, alright, we do still need all four of us here if we're going to start looking for Ash," Elena said, finally stepping in.

"Oh, let him run around for a little while," Naomi replied. "It'll do him good after a week of bedrest."

"Actually, he was on his feet a couple days ago already," Gabe chimed in.

Naomi pulled a face and glared back down the hall. "Of course he was."

"Sorry!" Mateo called.

Elena poked her own head out. "You can come back now, Mateo."

"I'll only take a little revenge!" Naomi promised.

"How about 'no revenge'?" he asked.

"You get a little."

"Aw, okay."

Gabe chuckled and clapped her on the shoulder as they all settled back into the room. "It's good to have you back," he said, grinning. "I've had to tease him by myself all week."

"Naomi is funnier," Mateo said without missing a beat as he slipped back inside, and Gabe swiveled his head toward him with an offended sound.

"We'll see how funny you think this is," Naomi said, and before Mateo could duck away, she grabbed his hood and yanked it up and over his eyes. "There. Consider yourself revenged."

Mateo just snickered again.

Papers rustled on the table behind them, and Naomi turned to see Elena gathering pages up that had been scattered by Naomi's rampage.

"Sorry about that," Naomi said, sobering. "I guess we should get planning, huh?"

Elena smiled. "I'd like to, yes. But I am glad that everyone's doing well again."

A sudden sneeze ripped through the room, and all eyes snapped to Gabe, who still stood by the door, looking startled. He wiped his nose, mumbling a quiet, "'scuse me."

"...Or not," Elena amended, dropping her papers to the table. "We can try again in a week."

"Wh—seriously?" Gabe said, looking around at his friends' stares. "It was just one sneeze!"

"That's exactly how I started," Mateo said ominously.

"Okay, that settles it," Naomi said, taking the initiative to usher Gabe back into the hall. "It's your turn to take a break, now."

"But I feel fine! Come on, it was just one—" He froze suddenly, face contorting as he tried to hold back another sneeze to no avail.

"Two," Mateo corrected. Gabe shot him a dirty look, and then sneezed again. "Three."

"Bless you," Naomi said.

Mateo joined her in pushing against Gabe's back. "We'll take care of Gabe, Elena," he called over his shoulder.

"Yeah, maybe we can at least keep you from getting sick," Naomi added.

Elena seemed equal parts concerned and confused by this turn of events. "O-oh. Okay. Feel better soon, Gabe! I'll be sure to check in!"

He made a frustrated sound. "We don't even know for sure that I'm si…" He trailed off into another sneeze.

"Four," Mateo said.

"Will you stop counting?!"

"Look at it this way," Naomi said, steering him down the hall. "If you're not sick, then you can jump right back into your work tomorrow, and the worst thing that happened is that you got a day off. You're probably way overdue for one of those, anyway."

"And if you are sick, then by resting now, you're getting ahead of it!" Mateo added.

"You're the absolute last person that should be lecturing me about that," Gabe muttered. But he glanced behind him at his friends' resolute expressions and caved with a sigh. "Okay, okay, you two win. I'll go get some rest."

Victory achieved, Naomi and Mateo shared a grin, and continued their mission.

Fun fact: this is literally the very first chapter I drafted in its entirety (post-chapter 1, anyway). Have I ever mentioned I really like sickfics? Bc I really really really like sickfics. There was a lot of stuff I wanted to include in this one, like Mateo talking about getting used to hiding minor illnesses because his mom always went overboard trying to take care of him, and Naomi making a crack about how at least it was her that found out about his fever and not worrywarts like Gabe or Elena, but they just didn't fit into the conversation the way it ended up going.

Also? We're in the home stretch, now? There's literally only 4 chapters left after this. So that should only take me like 3 more years!