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John wakes up happy and well-rested. He whispers good morning to Harold, stroking the hairs on the back of his arm.
Harold squints at him sleepily. He opens his mouth, swallows, then winces. He manages the faintest croak then looks alarmed. He tries to clear his throat again, to no avail.
John sits up in bed, his good mood sinking. "Did you catch a cold?" He remembers with regret that Harold did have to walk a long way in the rain following yesterday's number, then sit in his wet clothes for an hour outdoors. And he's been pulling a lot of all-nighters. Makes sense his immune system might get run down.
"Let me find something for your throat." John gets out of bed, making sure to bring the covers well up over Harold's shoulders after. In his boxers, he heads for their medicine stash. He grabs a box of cough drops, ducks back into the bedroom to leave them where Harold can reach. Then into the kitchen to mix him some hot water with honey and lemon.
By the time he gets back, Harold is propped up against the pillows, reading on his phone. He makes a face when he realises it isn't tea.
"Sorry, no caffeine for you right now," John explains.
Harold pouts but accepts the mug and takes a sip.
John starts getting ready without him. "I'd better take Bear out and check if there's a new number. You stay in and rest."
Harold tries to whisper something. John reluctantly shushes him. "Don't strain your voice more by trying to force it. You can work from here if necessary."
A little while later, John is dressed and about to leave. As he opens the door, Harold raps his knuckles against the bedside table to get John's attention. John turns back. Harold looks so forlorn and pitiful that all John wants to do is crawl back into bed, wrap him up tight and protect him from everything, including his own body.
He thinks he knows what Harold wants. They did promise to kiss goodbye before heading into danger, if there was enough time, if they happened to be alone and in private. There might be no more danger today than a brisk walk, but they don't know that for sure. John puts in his own earpiece and picks up Harold's, tucks it into Harold's ear for him. He turns the touch into a cheek stroke, leaning down to kiss Harold's forehead.
"I'm sorry you're feeling bad. Take it easy."
Harold squeezes his hand tight before letting him go.
~
The Machine does give them a number. They work it as efficiently as ever, John asking questions and Harold texting or emailing the replies. John cracks jokes to try to cheer Harold up, but stops after one aborted laugh provokes a chesty coughing fit. He really misses hearing the tone of Harold's dry observations.
He makes it through the day without needing to be rescued, which means Harold doesn't have to leave his bed. That's an extra win, on top of successfully resolving the number's problem.
~
Two days of complete bed rest later, Harold is back on his feet. He has already started on breakfast when John finds him. "Good morning, Mr. Reese."
John grins. "Hey, you're back!" He goes to him for a hug and a chaste kiss.
Harold melts into his arms. "Thank goodness that's over. I'm not cut out to be the strong silent one in this partnership."
"I've missed you," John admits. "I mean, you've still been here, but your voice is very...you."
"I know what you mean. Now, will you let me take care of things today? You've been an excellent nursemaid but I need to be in control for a bit."
"Sounds good to me."