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I am not sick. I never get sick. The common cold is for common people, not me. I blink my bleary eyes a couple of times to clear them up. Tank, the wuss that he is tried to get me to go upstairs and take a couple of days off, but gave up with a grunt when I threw a knife in his general direction. It didn't even graze him. The pussy. The rest of the men haven't tried entering my office since.

My headache was progressively getting worse and my fingers were lagging, trying to keep pace with my typing. The door to my office opens and I let out a low growl, warning whoever it is to stay away from me. I hear the distinctive clicking of heels and let out a sigh. Damn it. Tank called in the big guns. The big wuss. He didn't even try to reason with me. I should've known something was up then.

Babe walks over to my side of the desk and touches the back of her hand to my forehead like I've seen my mother do countless times when I was a child. To my surprise, she doesn't try to pull me away from my work. Instead, she walks over to my couch, pulls out her phone and just scrolls though.

I sit there, stunned for a moment before returning my attention back to my work. There are tiny gnomes hammering at my brain, but I refuse to give in. It's a matter of pride now.

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I notice my Babe shifting to get into a more comfortable position and realise that she's online shopping for outfits. She's looking at shoes while sit here feeling miserable. Why isn't she trying to make me move? Is this some reverse psychology bullshit? I rub my forehead trying to get rid of the tension.

Ten more minutes pass by. She's lying on the couch now, looking at bikinis. It's the bloody middle of winter right now. There's snow outside the window and she's looking at bikinis. I like the pink one. Maybe I should let her know.

Another fifteen minutes and I can feel my stomach rebelling. I will not puke in front of my Babe. I am not sick. I order my stomach to settle down, so instead of nausea, I now have a stomach ache. She is currently scrolling through what look like cocktail dresses. She then switches to the Facebook app and updates her status to *Feeling Cosy* and snaps a selfie with her coat buttoned up as she snuggles into the arm of the couch. She does look cosy.

I look back at my spreadsheets and then look at my Babe again, all warm, cosy and snuggly. What am I doing? Am I a complete moron? I could be upstairs in my bed with Nurse Stephanie looking after me and instead I am sitting her looking at some stupid spreadsheets.

I slam the lid of my laptop shut and walk over to my Babe. I take the annoying piece of technology off her and pick her off the sofa. She squeals and places her arms around my neck. I walk out of the office only to be faced with a vision of a smug Tank drinking some fucking hot cocoa with a scarf around his neck like he's a stupid croissant eating French moron.

The rest of my men don't dare look up as I carry my Babe to the elevator. I let her down and pull her into my arms. I can feel my eyes burn as I close them, but it feels good to have my Babe so close to me.

She places her the back of her hand on my forehead before she starts fussing about me. As soon as the elevator doors open, she fobs me into the apartment and starts pulling off my pants and my shirt. When I try to do the same to her, she smacks my hands away. My brain is a bit fuzzy and confused so I let her direct me to my bedroom where she dresses me into the flannel Batman pyjamas Lester got me as a joke and tucks me into the bed.

She then walks out of my room and comes back with two pills and a glass of water which she makes me swallow. Sleep is trying to pull me in but at the edge of my consciousness I know that there's something I need to tell her. "Pink bikini Babe" I say before sleep pulls me in. I distinctly hear tinkling laughter as I follow the darkness.

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed this short fluffy piece :) Review and let me know your favourite part of this one-shot.