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“You’re…like…weird.” Eli frowned. Rush glanced up from the console he was working at to glare at Eli from underneath a scowl. “Weirder than usual.”
“Would you finish your calculations, please?” He sighed. “I think we’ve all had a long enough night.”
Eli’s eyebrows shot up on his forehead. “Now see, that’s weird. That’s weird, Brody.”
Rush pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t bring Mr. Brody into this.”
“I’m just saying!” Eli threw up his hands in mock self-defense. “When was the last time you suggested wrapping up to have an early night?”
“It’s almost 0100.”
“That’s an early night for us.” Brody grumbled.
Rush ran a hand through his hair in annoyance. “I can’t get anything done around here.” He grumbled, tucking his laptop under his arm and turning on his heel sharply to leave the control interface room.
Eli leaned over his console to call after him. “Does that mean we can go to sleep?” Rush chose not to dignify that with a response.
He slammed his hand into the door control to Young’s quarters. The other man was sitting at his desk, sifting through a pile of paperwork. “You know, you would’ve thought with paper in such short supply, there would be less of this shit.” He leans back in his seat and makes a wide sweeping gesture over the surface, then stops and furrows his brows. “You’re here early.”
“Well, you’re always saying I’m no good to you dead.” He sighed, pulling off his shoes and overshirts before collapsing into bed.
Young tilted his head. “Something’s wrong.”
“Can a man want a good night’s sleep around here without an interrogation?” He groaned, curling into his side.
“Not you.” Young sat by his side and ran a hand across his cheek to brush a stray hair out of his eye. “Christ, you’re hot.”
"Why thank you.” Rush deadpanned; his voice half muffled by the mattress.
"You have a fever.” Young said sternly.
Rush shook his head. “I don’t get sick.”
“I’m going to call T.J.” Young stood and started back to his desk.
“There’s no need for hysterics, this happens all the time.” Rush sighs, and slowly pulls himself up to sit on the bed. “I work through it. It passes.”
Young turned and crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s ‘this’?”
Rush gave a noncommittal shrug. “I get tired. I have a headache. I cough. Don’t eat much. Which is really all par for the course, if I’m being honest.”
“You have…you have a cold, genius.”
Rush sputtered out a laugh. “I don’t get sick.”
Young hauled him to standing and half dragged him out of the room. Rush scowled. “I don’t have any shoes.”
“Would you rather I carry you?” Rush shut his mouth with a scowl and dragged his feet the rest of the way to the infirmary.
T.J. determined that not only did the scientist, in fact, have a cold, he also had been suffering from an almost chronic sinus infection for the past six months. “You just lived like this?” T.J. cocked an eyebrow at him. Rush gave her the same shrug. Young stifled a laugh.
Rush had food and electrolytes forced into him, and a mix of supplements created out of various fauna T.J. had discovered on off world missions. He slid his socks against the smooth metal of Destiny’s hull in an almost petulant manner until they reached Young’s quarters again. “So much for my early night.” Rush sighed, crawling underneath the covers, eyeing that the time read 0213 hours on Young’s watch.
“So much for my paperwork.” Young smiled, crawling in beside him.
Rush shook his head slowly, his body halfway to sleep. “No, y’go ahead.” He mumbled, his accent thickening with the sleep. “Don’t let me keep ya.”
“Well, the only really good thing about being sick is getting lots of attention. And I don’t intend on taking that experience from you.” He ran his hand through Rush’s hair and pressed a soft kiss onto his warm forehead before they both settled into sleep.
They were both sick within a few days. When they realized it meant they had an excuse to lay in bed an extra fifteen minutes, neither of them really minded anymore.