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After Moffitt started his sixth coughing fit, Troy decided that enough was enough.
“So when are you planning on getting looked at by a medic?”
“What do I need to do that for?” Moffitt’s normally smooth voice was hoarse and raspy as he looked up at Troy.
“Because You Are Sick!” Troy stood and walked over to his partner. When he reached him, Troy put the back of his hand to Moffitt’s forehead.
“My mother used to kiss my forehead to check for fever,” Moffitt looked up at Troy with glassy eyes.
“Mine did too,” Troy smiled at the openness and vulnerability displayed by the normally reserved Brit. He brushed back Moffitt’s hair from his forehead. As the Brit tilted his head back, Troy stuck a thermometer between his chapped lips.
“This isn’t what I asked for,” Moffitt pouted.
“I know, but I’m not a mom, so I need this to tell me how high your fever is.”
“I don’t have a fever.”
“Tell you what; if this thermometer says that you don’t have a fever, I’ll drop it. But if it does, you stop trying to convince me that you aren’t sick. Deal?”
“Very well.” Moffitt sighed and allowed Troy to place the thermometer under his tongue.
“Thank you,” Troy said as he gently kissed Moffitt’s forehead. Troy almost dropped the thermometer when he read it. Immediately, he began to tug Moffitt into a standing position and out of the tent.
“Troy, what are you doing?”
“Taking you to get checked out,” Troy replied as he continued to pull Moffitt toward the entrance of the tent.
“No you’re not,” Moffitt stopped and refused to be moved.
Troy sighed in frustration and turned around, “look, Moffitt, you have a fever of 100. You need a doctor.”
“I am a doctor,” Moffitt’s expression turned indignant at this imagined slight to his reputation.
“A doctor in anthropology. Not medicine!”
“Well, I’m still not going to medical.”
“Moffitt,” Troy turned to look at his partner, “why are you so against going to see a medic?”
Moffitt sighed and sat back down. Troy pulled a chair up so he could sit in front of the other man. He grew concerned at Moffitt’s reluctance to talk to him; within the privacy of their tent, Moffitt usually relaxed his British sense of decorum.
“It isn’t important.” Moffitt looked at his hands as he finally replied to Troy’s inquiry.
“It’s important to me,” Troy reached for Moffitt’s hand and began to run his thumb across his partner’s knuckles.
Moffitt glanced up to meet Troy’s eyes. Then his eyes flicked back down as he mumbled a response.
“What was that?”
“I said that I don’t want to be separated from you, Tully, and Hitch.”
Troy’s eyes softened; he understood Moffitt’s reluctance to be admitted into the hospital. None of the group enjoyed when they had to be left behind at the base to recover, but it was always worse when the cause was illness instead of injury.
“You know, they’re only going to keep you if you don’t have anyone to take care of you,” Troy said slowly.
“So?”
“So… you won’t be kept in the hospital because you do have someone to look after you.”
“If you are implying that I would allow Peterson within twenty yards of me right now, your fever is higher than mine is.”
Troy chuckled as he replied, “no, I don’t mean Peterson. I meant me.”
Moffitt’s head snapped up, “you?”
“Yes, me.”
“Don’t we have a mission coming up?”
“It’s nothing that a regular patrol can’t handle, so I’ll talk to Captain Boggs and get all four of us some leave.”
Moffitt searched Troy’s face for anything that could reveal reluctance or regret at the offer but could find none.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am.” Troy looked at Moffitt with confusion etched on his face, “why wouldn’t I be? You’re sick, and I want to make sure that you get better.”
Moffitt gave a sigh of relief and gave up his attempt to maintain an upright position.
“Woah, easy Moffitt,” Troy rushed to Moffitt’s side and let the other man lean on him, “how about we get you to bed?” Troy wrapped an arm around Moffitt’s waist and pulled one of Moffitt’s around his shoulders.
“Good idea.” Moffitt had to use most of his concentration to get his feet to move properly. As the room began to spin, he hid his face in the crook of Troy’s shoulder.
“You still with me?” Troy shot a worried glance at his partner.
“For the time being, but I would feel much better if everything wasn’t spinning,” Moffitt replied as they reached the cot.
“Hopefully, laying down will help.” Troy gently lowered Moffitt onto the cot and began removing the other sergeant’s boots.
“I’m sorry about all this, Sam.”
“Hey, there’s nothing to be sorry for,” Troy gently responded as he went to kneel next to the cot, “it isn’t your fault that you’re sick.”
“I should have listened to you from the start. Then, I’d be in the hospital and you wouldn’t have to deal with me. I make a rather poor patient, I’m afraid.”
“I know you do, but I’d much rather take care of you than have to go on a mission without you. I would also rather have you here, with me, then in the hospital. Believe it or not, I enjoy being with you.”
“Even when I’m ill and acting like a child?” Moffitt asked quietly.
“Even and especially then.” Troy smiled at his partner and started to get up and go find a medic and Captain Boggs.
“Sam,” Moffitt turned his head to look at the other man.
“Yeah?” Troy looked over his shoulder and immediately softened at the sight that met him. The usually collected Brit was wrapped in both their blankets, and his red nose and mussed hair served to further make the sergeant look like a sick child.
“Thank you.”
“Anytime. Now try to get some sleep, I’ll be back with a doctor soon.”
Moffitt nodded to let Troy know he’d heard him, then began to slowly drift off, knowing that he was in good hands.