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Beth doesn’t get sick often, but when she does, it hits her like a tidal wave. She’s been feeling off for a few days but she plays it off as being rundown; a headache here and there, fatigue, general crankiness wrapped into too many PTA meetings, bake sale discussions and becoming a human ping pong ball as she bounces from kid to kid, taking them to various obligations.
Not even to mention the run around she’s been working with Rio; dinner meetings, updating the books, moving cars, and drops. Annie and Ruby tell her to slow down, but she doesn’t, because of course she can handle it.
Until she can’t.
This morning she manages to get the kids ready for school and luckily Dean’s taking on the bulk of running around today. She never thought she’d be thanking him for that, usually she’s the one who prefers to be in control because Beth knows how she likes things done. She also doesn’t have to worry about doing things twice because Dean can’t do it right the first time.
But for once, she’s glad her ex-husband is stepping up to do something other than whine about their current relationship or living situation. She sighs and leans against the kitchen counter, a mess left behind from breakfast and getting lunches ready, a slight throbbing turning sharp behind her eyelids.
She pulls her hair back into a loose bun, looking over her shoulder at the time on the oven: 8:30 in neon green seeming to burn into her skin. She pinches the bridge of her nose and wanders around the kitchen island, moving towards the living room. Laying down for a few hours won’t hurt anything; she’s supposed to have a meeting with Rio to go over a drop for tonight but that’s not until noon.
She’ll get some sleep, clean up the kitchen, and keep pressing on.
Beth’s asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow.
–
Somewhere in her groggy state she realizes a few things: for one, she thinks she has a fever because she’s somehow hot and cold all at the same time. There’s a blanket over her shoulders that she doesn’t remember putting on and even though she wants to kick it off of her, she pulls it tighter over herself. She’s shaking, regardless of the sweat beading her hairline. Secondly, someone is moving around her kitchen but she doesn’t want to open up her eyes and look—her head is pounding like a massive drum. It has to be Annie or Ruby, coming in to check on her; she just prays it isn’t Dean or worse, some sort of burglar looking through her cereal boxes for the money she has stashed there. Third is that she’s distantly aware of time passing, of knowing she has to get up and start on the things she to do but not being able to force her body up into a sitting position. She’s hungry and nauseas all at the same time; she should eat but can’t fathom making anything.
Beth groans softly as someone’s fingers slip along her forehead and down behind her neck, checking her temperature, tucking wet strands of hair aside.
“Stop,” She grumbles, pushing them away—she just wants to sleep.
“Need you to sit up for me, ma.” The voice says and she squeezes her eyes shut tighter because no, God, she has to be imagining Rio there. There’s no way in hell she’s letting him see her like this, she’ll never hear the end of it.
And while personal appearances aren’t the highest on her list, she doesn’t want to wonder if she looks just as gross as she feels in front of someone who always seems immaculate.
“I’m imagining you.” Beth mumbles but pulls the blanket down so it’s not covering half her face anymore and opens one of her eyes.
Rio comes into fuzzy view, an amused touch tugging the ends of his lips, “So you imagine me often, yeah?” He sits down on the coffee table across from her, the back of his hand pressing against her forehead again. “You have a fever.”
“I know,” Her voice croaks annoyingly, forcing her body to move even though it hurts to do so. She leans back against a few couch cushions and rubs her forehead, massaging her fingers into her right temple. God, is it noon already? Has she been sleeping that long?
“What I tell you about runnin’ yourself down?” Rio shakes his head, taking his jean jacket off to set on the coffee table beside him. “And I’m the one that doesn’t listen?”
“You don’t.” Beth pouts, grabbing his jacket despite not asking for it and wrapping it around her shoulders. Rio rolls his eyes but that doesn’t stop him from helping her get her arms through the sleeves.
She glances past him and opens her mouth to say something else when…when she notices that her kitchen is clean—all the breakfast dishes are washed and put away, lunch containers put back where they belong, trash brushed into cans. Beth swallows thickly, her throat aching from being sick but also, she thinks, from emotion because—
“You cleaned up my kitchen.”
Rio blinks, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees. He shrugs his one shoulder, not a big deal, “How are we supposed to handle business if you’re worried about dirty spatulas?”
Beth sighs, “I’m not sure if I’m much of a business partner right now, my head feels like scrambled eggs.”
A laugh sneaks out of Rio’s throat, the sound pleasant and tantalizing and it takes everything in her not to pull him onto the couch so she can lean against him. Instead she tugs his jacket closed around her and ducks her chin to breathe in the scent of skin and cologne and soap wafting up from the fabric.
“I’ll do the drop tonight, I want you to stay here. Get more sleep.” Rio straightens his back, standing from the coffee table.
Now she feels bad; she knows she’s sick but…that doesn’t mean she wants Rio to handle business without her. They’re partners, after all. He’s used to doing things on his own, she knows that—but still, she hates to be left out of things. Even when she feels this awful. She won’t be winning that argument,
“Wait,” Beth reaches for his hand and squeezes, stopping him from walking away from her. “Can you…stay? Get me some soup?” She pouts out her lower lip for dramatic effect.
Rio rolls his eyes but he doesn’t take her hand off his own. Instead, his fingers start instinctively wrapping themselves around hers, gold ring pressing coolly into her skin. “Which one do you want—to stay or go on a soup run?”
Beth huffs, as if the answer is easy, leaning back against the couch and doesn’t reply to him outright. Rio just smirks, shaking his head as he lets go and wanders towards the kitchen. “Even sick, you’re givin’ me orders.”
She leans down, pressing her face into one of the pillows as a wave of dizziness washes over her. She groans slightly, knowing that she needs to eat something and get more sleep—it’s the only way she’s going to knock this thing on its ass.
“Come on,” She’s aware that she’s whining but maybe the fever will burn this from her memory later on, “Don’t you love me?” That’s a low blow and sounds slightly delirious.
Rio appears with a to-go bag that he clearly picked up from somewhere on his way here…without her even asking him to do it. He must have been watching her more closely over these past few days than she realized, noticing her getting more and more run down. He knew she was sick before he showed up and came with reinforcements.
“You really gonna ask me that?” He says rather pointedly, taking a plastic bowl out of the bag with a spoon. “I’m not feeding you.”
“Some people like that, you know,” Beth says, a little cheekily, but she reaches for the spoon so he doesn’t have to.
Rio hums gently, putting the soup on her lap and grabbing a few napkins for her. He’s about to sit down on the coffee table again when Beth moves her legs, motioning to the spot next to her,
“There’s room.”
He smiles and sits down, moving her legs to rest on top of his own, his hands smoothing circles into her calves. “Better not get me sick, mami.”
“I make no promises.” She spoons soup into her mouth but smiles back all the same.