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Disclaimers: Ten Thirteen Productions, and everyone else officially associate with CC&Co are going to hate this one. They own all of the X-Files characters mentioned here.

Other: No sex, a complete absence of accurate characterization, and nothing happens. What's not to apologize for? This little piece of nothing was sent to the list in response to the "write a happy story" challenge. Let this be a lesson to you all. No one should be allowed to get their hands on a keyboard when they're feverish. I tried to spell-check it, but it gave the program a nervous twitch.

Author: annezo @ fastmail . fm

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BLESS YOU

ACHOO! The explosion racked his body, stealing his breath and making tiny hammers beat frantically against the inside of his skull.

"I feel lige shit." Alex threw the used tissue into the overflowing trash can beside the bed and slumped back against the pillows. "There has got to be ad easier way to die."

"You're not dying," his lover said matter-of-factly, handing Alex a glass of orange juice and a Vitamin C pill. "You have a cold."

"I'b dying," Alex insisted petulantly. "I'b hot. I'b cold. I'b sweating. I s'bell like a phar'baceutical plant." He shoved the pill in his mouth and washed it down with a slug of orange juice. "D'ot that you care."

"No, I don't." The glass was removed and a tray holding a bowl of soup and a plate of buttered toast placed across Alex's lap. "That's why I took the day off to stay home with you. Just for the pleasure of watching you die in my bed."

"Sadist." Alex eyed the tray with disfavor. "I'b d'ot huhgry."

"Eat or I'll feed you," Walter said cheerfully. He smiled down at Alex, the picture of robust health.

ACHOO! Alex, acutely aware of his own swollen eyes, reddened nose and hoarse voice, found the energy to hate Walter for a moment. "You'll probably get it d'ext," he said with satisfaction. "Hahging around here all day."

"No I won't." Walter crossed his arms implacably. "I don't get sick. Eat."

Alex used the spoon to stab at the toast, watching crumbs fly across the bed. "Everybody gets sick."

"Not everybody," Walter denied. "And I'm not changing those sheets, so don't smear anything on them you're not willing to sleep in."

A few spoonsful of soup and Alex felt his temperature rising again, the heat of the liquid pouring out of him in another wave of sweating. "I'b hot," he said fretfully, pushing at the tray. "Why can't I have sobethig cold?"

"I gave you a glass of ice water fifteen minutes ago and you claimed I was trying to give you pneumonia," Walter said patiently.

"When I ab hot I want sobethig cold and when I ab cold I want sobethig hot," Alex persisted. "You do it wro'g."

Walter pushed the tray back into place. "Eat it or wear it."

There was a note in his voice that told Alex he meant it this time. Alex spooned up over half the soup, blotting the sweat off of his forehead ostentatiously every few bites. He ignored the cold toast and the drops of soup that dotted the tray from his clumsy handling of the spoon.

His own temper was climbing with his temperature. "That's all." He dropped the spoon noisily into the bowl, watching the liquid splash across the tray.

"Get it away from me." He grabbed for another tissue. ACHOO! ACHOO!

"Do you want something different?" Walter took the tray away, probably to prevent Alex from grabbing the bowl and throwing it across the room.

"No," Alex said sullenly. "I'b already sick e'duff."

"Do you always revert to the Terrible Twos when you get a simple cold?" Walter headed toward the door, grabbing the knob as he passed. "Maybe you should try sleeping. For the next couple of days."

The door didn't quite slam behind him, but the noise was loud enough to make Alex's head pound.

He glared at the closed door furiously. Fine. If the occasional glass of orange juice and a bowl of edible soup was too much to ask for....

Alex kicked back the blankets, letting the cooler air of the room wash over him gratefully. He staggered to the closet and dragged out his clothes. He should have left two days ago when he first started feeling bad.

ACHOO! ACHOO! Simple head cold. Right. Alex dropped his socks, resting his head wearily in his hands. ACHOO! Another sneeze racked his body. Alex waited, but that seemed to be the last of them for the time being.

It was tough to concentrate on dressing and the temperature in the room seemed to be dropping every second, but Alex finally got his jeans and shirt on, he didn't bother trying to tuck the shirt in, and sat down to wrestle with his shoes and socks. His toes felt like ice as he tried to drag the cloth over them.

Maybe he'd been a little hard on Walter, but it was his own fault for refusing to let Alex leave before. The last thing Alex had wanted was for his lover to stop looking at him with eyes of lust and start viewing him as a plague-infested body. He'd avoided looking at himself in the mirror for the past two days, but Alex knew what he looked like.

An icy draft swept through the room and Alex shivered uncontrollably.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The voice was, if possible, just a few degrees colder than the air.

"I'b goi'g hobe," Alex said, refusing to lift his head. "Where I cad be sick id peace."

"You don't have any business driving."

Alex could tell he was walking the thin edge of Walter's patience. All the more reason to get out of there as quickly as possible. He rubbed his toes through the sock, trying to warm them, then picked up a shoe.

"Did you hear me?"

"You did't sign up for d'ursing duty," Alex said, trying for martyred nobility. "I can feed byself ora'ge juice. I do't deed a keeper."

A massive hand closed over the back of his shirt and lifted Alex forcibly to his feet. "I don't," Walter said with terrifying patience, "Mind bringing you some orange juice."

"You were pretty pissy about it a b'inute ago," Alex sulked.

"I do mind you acting like a spoiled brat," Walter explained, his grip tightening. "I know you're sick. There's nothing I can do about it and the only thing you can do it to stop acting like it's a global conspiracy to bring about your early death and accept it for what it is. A simple, fucking head cold. Do you hear me?"

"Jure straglig bee," Alex tried to gasp.

"Just think how good it will feel when I stop," Walter said sweetly. He let go of Alex's shirt and for a moment the bliss of being able to breathe occupied all of Alex's attention.

"Isn't that nice?" Walter gathered Alex's swaying, gasping body into his arms. "It's all a matter of perspective, isn't it?"

Alex tried to pull away. "Fu'g you," he tried to swear. ACHOO! ACHOO!

The last one was right in Walter's face. Alex sniffed, waiting for another explosion that didn't come. He looked at Walter's disgusted face with satisfaction. "If you ged sick a'd die, I'll be glad," he said spitefully.

"No you won't." Walter used Alex's shirt sleeve to mop his face, then gathered Alex closer to him for a kiss.

Alex burrowed his head against Walter's shoulder, relishing the man's warmth in the cool room. "I'b sick," he whined again. "A'd I look like hell."

"I know." Walter's hand stroked his back gently. "I think we should get you back to bed, don't you?"

"I was goi'g hobe," Alex reminded him. He didn't protest when Walter slipped the tee-shirt over his head and went to work on unfastening Alex's jeans. In a few seconds Alex was stripped back down to his shorts and letting Walter tuck him back under the blankets.

Walter kicked off his shoes and stripped out of his shirt, then crawled into the bed with Alex. Alex let himself be gathered against one broad shoulder, relaxing into Walter's warmth gratefully.

Blankets were pulled up and tucked around Alex's shoulders and a kiss brushed across his forehead. "You still have a fever." Walter's voice was a rough purr. "And you're probably tired. You aren't sleeping very well, are you?"

Alex shook his head drowsily, snuggling closer.

Walter's hand slid under the blankets and stroked Alex's back soothingly. "You want to rest for a while?"

Alex nodded, feeling the scrape of his unshaven chin against Walter's shoulder. He tried to turn his head to avoid the friction, but Walter's hand pressed him back down again. His face was tipped up for a warm kiss.

"Get some sleep," Walter whispered. "I'll be right here."

Alex fought with the blankets and got his arm around Walter's waist. "You do't have to stay," he objected. Walter's arms cuddling him were heavy and reassuring.

"Are you sure?" He could hear a smile in Walter's voice. "I think you seem a lot more comfortable this way."

"I ab," Alex agreed, feeling his incipient headache fading away. He still felt chilled everywhere except where Walter's body was pressed against him. "But you ca'd go."

Walter's hand stroked Alex's head slowly. "I'd rather be here."

"Here?" Alex thought about sitting up to make sure he'd heard that correctly, but he couldn't make his muscles work. "You sure?"

"Of course." Another kiss. "You go to sleep."

"A'd you'll stay?" Alex smiled to himself. He felt warm and safe.

"I'll stay."

Strong hands rubbed Alex's achy head and swept along his spine, easing the knots of tension. Under his ear, he could hear the regular, reassuring thump of Walter's heartbeat, lulling him to sleep. He yawned hugely and settled his weight against Walter's side.

Walter was right. This was much better than sleeping alone.

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that's it