Crap. No make that double crap.
You see, I've only just gone back to work after my pesky little Appendix knocked me straight on my ass for a month. Recovery was tough, any recovery from abdominal surgery is tough but if you add into the mix the stress of giving the order to terminate the love of your life, your soul mate, your 'Mr Right' then, well, recovery was a bitch! Janet nagged, I argued, Janet lost her rag, I argued even more, boy am I good at being pissy! I stomped my feet and I jumped up and down like a spoiled brat. After three weeks I was crawling the walls, bored out of my skull, fed up with daytime telly and being left on my own. I pleaded and begged and finally, after the fluttering of my baby blues, Janet conceded. Yeah! Chalk that one up to Doc Jackson. So, I went back to work, I buried myself in my work, anything to escape the nightly nightmares, the ones where Jack looks me straight in the eye and gave me permission to blow the sub into thousand of tiny pieces.
So. I worked every hour I could, trying to catch up, or so I told them and, you know what? The buggers believed me! I know! What's the chances hey? Problem now is, well the double crap problem is that I have just come home from work and I am here, alone, Jack's due home any minute and I feel crap, double crap. See what I've done there?
The headache started at 3 O’clock, the aching bones started at 4 O’clock and I admitted defeat at 5 O’clock after downing enough aspirin to sink a battleship. So I inched my way through the evening grid lock, heater on full blast as the chill's started at, oh, lets say for the sake of arguing, 5 O’clock - a nice round number there!
I've taken a shower which has warmed me slightly and dragged my aching body into the kitchen and slung a pizza in the oven, that is gonna be the extent of my Monday night supper making for this week and now I'm curled up on the sofa wanting nothing more than to lapse into a coma!
The problem is I don’t wanna hear the 'I told you so's' - the - 'when are ya gonna learn' - the little 'tusks' and over bearing mother henning. It drives me mad. So, I've gotta take a deep breath, pull myself together, plaster a smile on my face and force my supper down. I'm good at hiding these sorts of things, I've had enough practice, foster parents don’t want kids that are sick, and I learnt that the hard way. Shit. That's Jack's jeep. Time to get the show on the road Jackson!
Okay. Now it's 9 O’clock. I've managed pretty well so far, clever little me. I waved away Jack's concern about me not managing my second piece of ham and pineapple pizza - a little white lie of having a pastry on the way home with my double shot espresso dealt with that little bit of worry. I managed to sneak off to the bathroom to vomit said piece of pizza without a bat of his pretty brown eyes, a swig of mouthwash and the offer of a romantic snog when he smelt said peppermint and called me on it. Told him I had 'coffee breath' and ya know what? He believed me! I have been sat at my desk now for an hour 'pretending' to work. The last thing I needed was to accept his offer of snuggling up on the sofa to watch the hockey. I know my Jack, the first thing he would do would be to slip his hands up my sweatshirt and massage my abs, it's a fetish of his, he just can’t help himself. Thing is - one touch and he would suss out that you could actually fry an egg on my stomach at the moment and all my hard work would have been undone - where's the fun in that? Problem now is that I really want to lie down, my hips ache from trying to support my body, my eyes are fever scratchy and my head feels like it's gonna explode. It's one of those illnesses's that if it actually 'developed' into, oh, I dunno? Something - then you would probably feel better. If I'm gonna have a streaming cold then let it be so, this twilight fever bone aching is no fun and no amount of aspirin is gonna help, I have a bug, simple, well just bugger off bug, I don’t have time for you.
I watch as Jack stretches and yawns. He looks tired. Yeah! Maybe he'll go up early? Please let him go up early. Perhaps I ought to give him a bit of a nudge? Maybe if he goes to bed 'before' me I can go 'after?' I KNOW that's not making much sense but my brain is addled by fever, at least I know what I mean. There would be a possibility that he would be asleep before I venture up and then, maybe, perhaps, I could hide my growing symptoms, sneaky hey?
"You look tired babe," I tell him. "Why don’t ya head up, we've got a full day of those boring meetings you love." I grin at him, hoping my grin does not look too forced. He looks at me, directly into my eyes and I return the look, batting my eyelashes at him before I realise what I am even doing. Damn. He's gonna be disappointed tonight.
"You seducing me Danny?" Bastard licks his lips. Bastard.
"Um. Nope. Sorry, too much to do." I stutter to explain, tapping my pen on my laptop. His face drops and I almost feel sorry for him, If I was not too busy feeling sorry for myself I would feel sorry for him, I know I would.
"You work too hard," he grouches, yawning again *yeah for the yawn* "Work and no play makes Danny a boring fart,” he tells me, eyes narrowed in anger.
"Yeah, but, someone's gotta do it and, guess what? That someone is me." I try and joke. Pathetic. "Listen. I'll make it up to you, I promise. We have along weekend coming up, nothing to do but lounge around all day, nothing to do but, oh, I dunno? Maybe long, long, looooooong lie ins, breakfast in bed? Lunch in bed? Supper in bed..."
"Stop. Right there. Stop making promises you might not be able to keep"
Shit. Shit. Does he know? He's been watching me work all night. I've tried, I really have, I've tried to hide the signs, the scrunched up eyes, the sighing as my fever rose and made me more and more uncomfortable, the slow swallowing when waves of nausea washed over me. Shit.
"Don’t be stupid, it's gonna be you and me all the way fly boy." I tease.
"Um?" Was his reply and what was that? Another smothered yawn? Strike two!
"Go on, you're exhausted. You're gonna need all your strength old man."
"Oy less of the old." He tutts as he struggles off the couch and then gives me a knowing smile as his knees 'pop' at the action. I do my 'ta da' arm action and he grouches.
"Don’t forget to lock up and power down, and, are you listening Danny?" I turn and smile.
"Do not, and I repeat, do not fall asleep at the desk - understand."
"Yes sir, Colonel sir." I salute. Shit my hand is soo heavy. Please go to bed Jack, please, I aint gonna be able to keep this up much longer.
"Right, make sure ya dont. See you in the morning."
With that he turns and goes. Just like that. Not much arguing. Not much prodding or urging.
Yeah for me, or make that woe for me. I feel so crap.
Yes. Yes! He's fast asleep, flat on his back, snoring, dribbling, fast asleep. Bless. Even the little glimpse of flesh where his tee shirt has risen does nothing for me, nope not a thing.
I took my time. It is now two in the morning. I locked up, I powered down, I threw up, I shivered, I sweated, I whimpered, I moaned, I groaned, I tossed and turned on the sofa. I took my time. I took enough medication to knock out a small army and now, here I am, dressed in my warmest sweats and air force commissioned socks. I cannot risk Jack coming into any contact with my hot, dry skin, can’t take any chances. Well, actually, this attire works just fine for me cause I am so fucking freezing.
I empty my bladder, I clean my teeth, the taste of the cup of coffee I managed to actually 'bring back up' is still turning my rebellious stomach. I splash cold water on my face, which was bloody stupid Jackson. Now I can't stop my teeth chattering. I bury my face in a towel. Jack is special opps. Jack would hear chattering teeth at two clicks.
Okay, okay. I'm in more control now. I can do this. I just have to stop the bathroom spinning. No big deal. Concentrate. Just concentrate. One foot in front of the other. There's the bed, you can see it. It's in your grasp. Just look at it - it's so inviting, the duvet is so warm, the pillow is so soft. Come on. One foot in front of the other. That’s it. You're doing it. Well done. The eagle has landed.
"You're up early"
"Yup. Busy man, busy day."
Boy am I good or what!
"Didn't hear you come to bed?"
"Na. You were out of it. Never moved an inch."
"What time did you come up?"
"Oh. Not late. ‘bout midnight."
Ya see. One lie leads to another - easy really.
I had a miserable, crap night. I felt dreadful, so, so dreadful. But, you know me; I managed to hide it well. Go me! I had curled up on my side, back to Jack, right on the edge of the bed. I lay there and either shivered or I pulled at my sweats when the heat began to be unbearable. At one point I rolled on to the floor and lay there, teeth chattering, desperate not to rock the bed so much. So not to wake Jack. Hell but was I bloody brilliant!
You wanna know the strange thing? Well. I don’t feel so bad this morning - yeah for me! I managed to doze off around 4am and must have slept deeply for a few hours and, now, I've even managed to force down some breakfast, well, enough to keep the Colonel off my back. I feel shattered and wrung out but much better, I even took my temp and it was normal - score another one for me!
So, what ever it was, it's gone. Perhaps it was my body just telling me to slow down, enough is enough. Thank god we have a few days off now.
"I'm gonna make an early start." I tell Jack, tipping my dregs of coffee down the sink. "Gotta prepare for the lunch time meeting."
"Kay." He replies, already lost in the sports section of the paper.
"See you at the mountain then?"
I lean down and kiss him, right on the lips, cause I can, cause I have no fever. Oh the complete joy!
"Later” He mumbles, breaking the kiss, his eyes closed in appreciation of the token.
"Later." I agree and leave the house with a spring in my step.
Shit. Crap. Bollocks...
Why oh why did I promise later.
Shit. Crap. Bollocks. I feel like shit, I feel crap and I feel bollocking dreadful - again.
Guess what? I've only gone and done it again but this time I don’t think I'm gonna be able to hide it. Shit. Crap. Bollocks - get my drift?
Headache - 3 O’clock. Aching bones - 4 O’clock. Nausea and vomiting - 5 O’clock. Home - 6 O’clock No pizza at 7 O’clock. Chills and fever of 102 at 8 O’clock and, get this, peeing blood at 9 O’clock. Shit. Crap. Bollocks.
Guess what? Jack's home. Oh yeah. He's here all right. He's looking straight at me - right now. He doesn’t look happy.
Oh - 'Daniel' not Danny, not babe, not Danny boy, not space monkey... Shit. Crap. Bolloc - oh you get the picture.
"Yyes?" HELL - was that MY voice.
"Wanna tell me something"
Hands are on his hips, his foot is tapping. Nope not a happy bunny.
"Don’t feel too good."
I clear my throat.
"I think I may have a cold coming."
Now he's laughing, really laughing. Busted. He crouches down in front of the sofa I am currently desperately trying to actually 'stay on.' I swear it is rocking and rolling like a ship on the high seas. Crap 'o' mundo - here comes the hand.
My words exactly!
"Danny, you’re burning up!"
Ah. Danny. He called me Danny. All's well with my world.
"I don’t feel at all well."
I try to smile; I try to flutter my eyes.
"I'm sure you don't” He does smile. I love his smile. Hang on. What's he doing now?
See. I knew he could not resist. There it is - his hand on my abs.
"Fried eggs Danny, fried eggs." He rubs my stomach and his cold hand feels wonderful, just wonderful. I push away the covers...
"I'm so hot."
"You sure are Danny."
Did he just lick his lips? Bastard.
"I feel really ill Jack."
Yes I know, how pathetic was that but, ya know what? I really, really do!
Okay - The Colonel has entered the building,
"Headache, fever, aching bones, nausea, vomiting, back pain, Shall I go on?"
"Please do Doctor Jackson."
"Shit. Crap. Bollocks."
See. See? Great minds DO think alike!
Call was made. I swear Janet came here by beaming technology!
So here I am, cooking slowly at 101.
Pee dipped, antibiotic’s prescribed. Cranberry Juice in bucket full and lectured about reporting symptoms AS SOON as I had them. I managed to side step the emergency ambulance back to the mountain by promising on my life, Jack's life - heck the whole of SG1's life that I would drink and not vomit anymore. You hear that stomach? Got away with it. Janet's pissed, Jack's pissed and me? I'm just pissing, every five minutes!
It's gonna be a long, long night.
Thing is, there is nowhere I would rather be. Here, with Jack, three day down time. Hot and sweaty in bed!
Spot the comedian!
|Summary:||Daniel is sick AGAIN. Sick and fed up.|
Chapter End Notes:
Thank you Diney - this one is for you!