If there is one thing every girlfriend Derek ever had knew about him, that thing was that he was a clingy sleeper. He just loved to snuggle and to cuddle when he was sleeping, as if to compensate his stupid PDA rule during the day.

Casey found it rather humorous, she would even rub it in his face the fact he was as touch-starved as he accused her to be, but she did not want him to feel embarrassed and decide he had to stop.

Having been dating for almost a year now, and sleeping together (as in, actually sleeping in the same bed) for over nine months, she was used by now to having Derek's arm around her, pressing her firmly against his chest when she was sleeping, and so when it was not there, she could always tell.

So, when Casey felt Derek leave the bed and run to the en-suite toilet, she rolled over and assumed he just had to use the bathroom, but when she heard the awful hurling noises, she knew there was something wrong.

Feeling suddenly awake, she ran to his side. Entering their bathroom to such a horrible scene, she kneeled next to him and rubbed his back softly as he leans over the toilet and empties his stomach. When he was done, he slumps against the tiled wall, looking like death.

"Der, you look so pale." She put her hand up against his forehead. "You must be sick."

"I'm still awesome, though, right?" He smiles weakly, trying to dispel the ill-feeling in his gut for having his girlfriend fret over him.

She laughed, in spite of herself, and kissed his forehead. "Sure, Derek. Still awesome. However, you're also burning up. Come on, let's get you to bed."

Guiding him back to bed, with his arm around her shoulder for support, she turns on the light so he does not trip over himself. In the light, she could see just how sick he looked. His complexion was pale and sweaty, with dark circles around his eyes. He looked the picture of sickness.

"Just lay down and I'll be right back." Casey said, helping him climb up the large bed she insisted in buying.

She ran to the kitchen and looked around for some medicine. Finding a few pills on a drawer, she filled up a glass of cold water, and washing a hand towel to put on his forehead. She also checked the pantry to see if she could whip up a soup and crackers to feed him as soon as his nausea subsided.

When she reached the bedroom once again, a few minutes later, Derek was sprawled out on the bed. Her thick fibre blankets were all over the floor, to which she felt she should be angry about, but she was not on the right mindset. His expression was very pained, contorted, with a sweaty brow.

"Here, Derek, take these." She hands him the glass of water and the pills, which he takes very slowly, before setting it on the bedside table. "Do you think you could eat something?"

He shakes his head slowly and falls back into the pillows. Frowning, she places the washcloth on his head, hoping that it could give him a little more comfort and reduce his burning fever.

"I feel like I got hit with a hockey puck to the head." He whimpers out. "I should know, it has happened before."

Casey giggled, and Derek glared at her. He was a little dramatic when it came to pain and illness.

"Sorry, sorry." She laughed, while petting his hair. "Try and get some sleep, you'll feel better in the morning."

"Easier said than done…" He grumbles.

"I'm sure that, as soon as the medicine begins to take effect, you'll be out like a light." The woman said, softly. "Now, I'm going to sleep on the couch, so you can have the bed for yourself. You'll rest better that way. I'll turn up the heat, too, or do you want it to be colder? When morning comes, I'll go out for groceries and some medicine for you, okay?"

"Yeah…" He responded, not really focusing on the words she was saying.

"Good. Sleep tight, honey." She kisses him again and stands up to give him some space, but he grabs her arm and pulls her back down.

"Please, sleep here with me. I need you." His voice was raspy and very needy.

She looked warily at him. His eyes begged her to stay, as he felt so sick that the last thing he wanted was to be alone.

"Alright Derek, scoot over. I'll stay." She declared, picking up one of the duvets from the floor. "Just rest your pretty little head."

Getting in the bed he snuggles up to her side. His face was buried in her chest and his arms wrap around her waist.

"You're the boss, Princess."

"Hey." She picked on his wet forehead. "No name-calling, or else I'll leave, and then you'd have to ask your mom to take care of you."

He shuddered. "Abby's bedside manner is terrible. She's all about pain is the weakness leaving the body shit. I'd much rather ask your mom."

"Would you really ask a birthing mother to nurse you, a fully-grown man, back to health?"

"Yes." He responded, laconically.

Casey giggled. "God, Derek, you're terrible."

"Hey, you'd be the one to leave me in that scenario!" The man defended, weakly.

"True." She weighed. "Well, I guess I'm stuck with you."

"You are. Forever and ever and ever." He mumbled. "I'm glad you see things my way."

"You're very persuasive."

"What can I say? I'm Derek Venturi, master…" He trailed off, closing his eyes and loosing his grip on her.

Soon enough, his breathing becomes slow and steady, signalling he is fast asleep. Kissing his forehead lightly, she pulled one of the blankets up on him, so he does not feel cold at night, and falls asleep next to him.