Flu Event: This is why we have vows.

[Dr. James Campbell]

James had thought he'd beaten it.

As soon as he'd discovered that there was a particularly nasty strain of influenza spreading through Hammel, his normal personality had gone into overdrive. It wasn't unusual for James to go through a bottle of hand sanitizer quickly, but with all the stress of the recent weeks and the added threat of the flu, he'd emptied a bottle at the rate of about one every three days. (And yes, it dried out his hands, but he didn't care so long as it also killed the germs that lurked all over the school.) He'd also been so careful that he'd washed his coffee mug before and after each use, just in case someone forgot--because all of the staff knew already--that he didn't like anyone else drinking out of it. There were plenty of communal mugs for the people who didn't worry so much. And the door to his office stood open so long as he was in the recruitment office. That way, he didn't have to touch the doornob at all.

Somehow though, James woke up in the middle of the night with a splitting headache and a churning stomach. He scrambled out of bed, catching the image of the clock on his bedside table. It was just past two-thirty in the morning, and he already knew what kind of day it would be.

The recruiter managed to make it to the bathroom in time to heave up dinner from the night before. Once that was done, he sat on the cold tile, shivering a little at the chill that passed through his thin pajama pants. Now that he didn't have something quite as pressing to worry him, he began to notice how he was most definitely sweating, despite realizing that he wasn't just chilly, he was freezing. Great. He'd tried so hard not to get sick.

James groaned and just leaned his head against the wall, trying to work up the energy to get up and rinse out his mouth.

[Chase Campbell]

Chase didn't think he could handle any more stress.

He was doing what James was calling 'functioning.' He was coping. Pretending things were okay. Focusing on the small things, to keep his mind off of the guilt that threatened to suffocate him. Helping Niko train Mirage, cleaning up dog hair, making sure his family was taken care of. Maybe James was right, in that he was functioning on the most basic of levels, without becoming truly engaged in anything that went on in their lives. But it was working.

He hadn't even seemed to mind James' neurotic tendencies as the flu swept through the school. It seemed that half of the trainer's students had been out sick recently. They'd been through this before, and the best he could do to help James seemed to be to replace his hand sanitizer on a regular basis.

Of course, it wasn't enough. At least this time, much as he wanted to blame himself for James' being ill, he couldn't really. He didn't control germs, and even if he had served as a carrier, James probably wouldn't let him assume the guilt for anything else.

Not even the husky hair all over the floor.

Chase's sleeping patterns had been altered for months now. He'd been so used to sleeping like the dead, but lately the smallest thing had him awake. It proved true that night, when James lurched out of bed. The blond was awake in an instant, watching his retreating back in the dark. The sounds that followed alerted him that something was wrong, and he pulled himself out of bed. Milo protested the loss of his space heater, meowing loudly before settling into the spot his pet had just vacated.

Before intruding on the bathroom, Chase snuck downstairs to get a glass and some water. He wasn't the one that was good at this, taking care of someone when they were sick. That was far and away James' specialty. But it was giving him something to focus on, so he was going to try. Taking the water with him, he made his way to the bathroom and knocked quietly. "Jamie?"

Hadn't his husband been through enough? Now he had to go and get sick too? Chase managed a weak smile and kneeled on the floor beside him, offering out the water. "Rinse with this." He could see he was shivering, and sighed quietly. "I'll be right back." The trainer disappeared back to their bedroom and grabbed his Diamondbacks hoodie, returning to slide it over his husband's shoulders. "What do you need me to do, Jamie? What can I do to help?" His tone was slightly pleading. At this point, he'd do anything to make it better.

[Dr. James Campbell]

James didn't get sick a lot. He tried to take good care of himself, and that did a lot to protect him. But he was also constantly under stress, and when germs managed to find their way into someone as sanitized as he was, they tended to be some pretty tough germs.

He looked up when Chase knocked and mumbled something that was probably "Don't come in" but the first word was too soft to be heard, and it was all pretty non-committal anyway. He didn't want his husband to see him like this, but he came in holding some water, which was very welcome. "Thanks, Chase," James murmured as he took the glass, then rinsed out his mouth. It was a small comfort, because he still felt so gross, but at least his mouth was a little cleaner.

The recruiter pulled his knees up to his chin, giving up the thought of standing for the moment. The warmth of the sweatshirt was a bit of a comfort, and he pulled it tighter around his shoulders, still shivering. Fuck. He absolutely had a fever, and he'd already missed so much work that year, it wasn't going to be fair to the recruiters if he didn't go into work in the morning.

James slumped a bit against his husband's side. Chase had never been too comfortable around him when he was sick, but he could tell that he was trying. So he worked up a weak smile. "Do you have a cigarette?"

[Chase Campbell]

If anyone got sick in their household, it was usually Chase because he was typically too stubborn to go to the doctor for anything minor. It didn’t help that he didn’t sanitize the heck out of things like his husband did. With all the stress he’d been under lately, it was a bit of a surprise he wasn’t the one that was sick.

Actually, he preferred it that way. Being sick would mean James would coddle him, and he was still of the opinion that he didn’t deserve that.

He was going to do his best to look after James – something he felt he’d failed at during the past little while. That was why he’d brought the water and the hoodie. The trainer watched his husband’s face before brushing his knuckles against his forehead and cheek. “Jamie, you’re burning up.” For a moment, he wracked his brain to recall where they’d shoved any sort of medication that might help. All he could think of was Motrin, for the fever.

As James leaned into him, he leaned back for support, glancing sideways at him at his request. It was a miracle the trainer hadn’t taken up the habit for sheer stress relief. “Nope. Can you settle for Motrin?” At least the desperation had died down a bit in his voice.

[Dr. James Campbell]

James closed his eyes as Chase gently touched his face. He knew it was bad that his husband's hands felt cool against his skin, but it was a nice moment of relief for him. They were both still stressed, anxious, and coping, but it was nice to have that reassurance. His husband couldn't (always) stop terrorists, but he'd take care of him when he got sick. That was enough for James, for now. He tilted his head slightly to press against Chase's hand and sighed. He knew better than to get up now; his power kept him pretty well in-tune with what his body was up to. "I know. Sorry."

The apology just kind of tacked itself onto the sentence without James really thinking about it. He was sorry. Sorry for getting sick and probably having to miss work. Sorry for getting sick right now, when Chase was still struggling with everything that had happened with M.S.A.D.

And to be quite honest, James was surprised that Chase hadn't questioned why he'd asked for a cigarette. Neither of them smoked. And with the exception of one (tragic) incident with an over-enthusiastic roommate in college, James had never smoked anything in his life. He had meant it entirely as a joke. "I was going to smoke it and then have someone shoot me."

Yeah, he was that miserable. "Motrin's in the far right cabinet in the kitchen, middle shelf."

[Chase Campbell]

Chase was used to feeling James’ cold extremities. His husband had freezing cold feet, and they almost always found their way to his side of the bed. This was different. It was odd, the warm feeling under his fingers, and he was fully committed to trying to make things better. He couldn’t make everything better, but this was something small. This was something he could fix. “Don’t apologize for being sick,” he said softly, pressing a little kiss to the back of James’ hand. “It’s not your fault.”

He didn’t want to hear that James was sorry. It was far from his fault that he was sick. The timing didn’t even matter. It was almost good, actually. It was giving the trainer something small to focus on. If he could make just one small thing in their lives better, it would be a start.

Blame not asking about the cigarette on the early morning, and the lack of sleep. Had he been more awake, Chase would have flinched away at the ‘joke.’ Instead, he just offered a half smile and shook his head. “No guns before breakfast. Same rules as Christmas presents.” ... Did that make sense? He thought it did.

“I’ll go get the Motrin. Don’t move, okay?” Chase adjusted the sweatshirt so that it covered more of his husband before getting up and going to get the Motrin. With it, he brought a new, clean glass of water, just in case James had become adverse to the first one. After a quick check in on Nikki, who was sound asleep with Mirage curled on her bed, he returned to the bathroom and offered out the medication and water. “You’re not going to work tomorrow. And before you start, the team will understand.” The trainer settled onto the floor, thinking about the chances of him taking the day off as well, to look after James. There was no way he was going to leave him alone like this. Not for longer than he had to, to take Nikki to school. “I’ll stay with you.”

[Dr. James Campbell]

As soon as he had made the joke, James had regretted it. Chase had been so on edge lately, he didn't want to joke about guns or killing himself. No, James didn't actually think his husband was suicidal. But he also knew that the past year had been really hard on them both, and that he wasn't as 100% sure about things relating to his husband as he used to be.

Thankfully, two things happened then to distract James from his bad joke. One was Chase taking it lightly and going to get the medicine. The other was the sudden constriction of his stomach, causing him to scramble back to the toilet so he could heave up anything he might have missed before.

By the time Chase came back, James was curled up in the corner, pulling the sweatshirt on properly. He was pretty miserable, but he felt a little better, because he didn't think he was going to throw up again. "Thank you," the recruiter said softly as he took the Motrin and water from his husband, then downed it. And as much as he hated taking days off from work, this was one of the rare occasions where it was probably for the best. He reached out for Chase's hand and held it, leaning his head on the blond man's shoulder as well. "You don't have to stay with me. You've got work to do. Just call on your lunch."

[Chase Campbell]

No, Chase wasn’t suicidal at this point. Nor had he ever been, no matter what James’ deluded best friend might think. Yes, bad things had happened. To all of them. And he’d done bad things. But he was coping. Granted, he wasn’t coping well, but no one could say he’d stopped functioning. And he hadn’t. His desire to take care of his husband now was proof of that.

In the kitchen, Chase winced at the noise coming from upstairs and hurried up with the medicine and the water. He knew how much James hated being like that. That was why he wanted to stay home with him, to keep him quiet, keep him company.

As he settled back beside James, he wrapped his arm gently around his shoulders. “You’re welcome,” he responded automatically, letting James take his hand. He’d give his husband any small comfort he could at this point. Which included taking the day off. He didn’t want it to be negotiable, but of course James would argue that. Slowly, he shook his head. “No. I want to stay with you.” The trainer managed a weak smile. “Someone has to keep you from cleaning the bathroom, right?” It was a poor joke, but at least he was trying. “I don’t have a lot of sessions today. I’m pretty sure I could get Jackeroe to Anya to take over for a day. They’d understand.” Especially because they were his good students. “I can take Nikki to school and come right back.”

[Dr. James Campbell]

James frowned, but he had to admit--even if it was just to himself--that both Chase's insistence that he stay home and his arm around him were comforting. He didn't really like being touched while he was sick, but Chase was an exception to that. "You don't have to...." But he was too tired and feeling too miserable to keep his voice firm.

And now that Chase mentioned it, James did want to clean the bathroom. In his eyes, it was disgusting now, and needed sterilization. It wouldn't be the first time he attempted that while sick, either.

"Just make sure you aren't late picking him up either." Chase had already won this battle, even though James wasn't thrilled with the idea of leaving Nikki at the school without either of them there. (He didn't want to hover, but the boy had been kidnapped and seen his father knocked out and threatened. It would be unusual if the kid wasn't distressed.)

Finally, officially giving in, James sighed. "We should probably get back to bed then, shouldn't we?"

[Chase Campbell]

Oh yes, he had to. Chase felt like he had to. He had to make sure that his husband was safe, and that he was doing anything and everything possible to make him comfortable, make him feel better. “I know,” he murmured softly, pressing his forehead against James’. “But I want to,” he admitted.

If nothing else, it really would keep him out of the bathroom for anything other than bring back up yesterday’s meals. There wasn’t going to be any cleaning going on today, unless Chase was doing it himself.

“I won’t be, I promise. And I’ll make sure all his teachers are looking out for him.” He could even go so far as to request security to keep an eye on Nikki, but with Underwood dead, and the aftermath seemingly dealt with, he suspected that he would be safe. Well, as safe as any of them were.

“Yeah. Are you feeling well enough to move, or do you want help?” He had no qualms about picking James up. He’d done it before, when his husband had been tipsy. Back then, it had been funny, a game. Now? Not so much. But if James would be happier in bed, Chase was happy to oblige.

[Dr. James Campbell]

The recruiter smiled slightly, because this was more intimacy than he'd seen from Chase in a while. It sucked that it had to be caused by him getting sick, but it was nice having the old Chase back for a little while. "Are you sure? I could call you every hour?" Not likely. Usually when he got the flu--and it was always in spring. Who the hell gets the flu in spring--it meant James was out cold for hours at a time, and sometimes even his cell phone couldn't wake him.

"And make sure Niko takes some vitamin C. I don't want him catching this too." It was a hopeless cause to try to get Chase to stay away from him when he was sick, so James didn't even try.

"I can walk," James narrowed his eyes at Chase, but he was feeling too crappy to actually argue. He hated it when Chase thought it would be funny to pick him up, mostly because he didn't like not having his feet on solid ground. He stood slowly, leaning against the wall, and took a moment before confirming, "Yes, I can walk."

Luckily, their bed was only a few yards away, and he was able to collapse onto it ungracefully. James hated being sick. It made him feel like he couldn't do anything.

The next morning, when James woke up, he rolled over and shut his eyes tight. Yeah, he wasn't feeling any better.

[Event !]

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