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007n7 does not get sick. Well he does. It's human nature. But he does not use that time to slack. Sore throat, pounding headache, cramps in the stomach, doesn't matter. It won't stop him. He knows all strategies to resist this kind of pain. He knew how to dig himself out of a wooden coffin with nothing more than his legs if need be.
Sure, he'll contain himself away, just in case the virus is contagious so it won't get anyone else infected, but he'd be a dead man before he'd stop working.
So when he wakes up, struggling to lift his head off the mattress, nose both dry and leaking, he’s not going to stop trying. Even as he nearly vomits from dizziness just trying to stand up straight. Everyday is another day he could be working. A day he could win the war. He needs to make up for some of the incompetence his soldiers have.
Okay. Attempt 3 at this standing up thing. Why is he struggling like a fool? His legs burn and his head swoons. After he collapses again, it sets in. He's going to have to rest. Letting out a long, croaky groan into his pillow, he opens his phone to send an email to those at base to let them know of his absence for the day.
...
It's around an hour later, and in complete and utter honesty, 007n7 feels like the definition of dogshit. Maybe even lower. Yes, definitely lower. He has gotten not an ounce of rest, his body has only gotten drier, and every part of himself is actively working against him. The only thing he could be grateful for right now that at least he didn't have anything urgent on.
His c00lgui has been so far the thing getting the most productivity out of the two of them today, teleporting essentials to him. Then it started malfunctioning, because of course this day could get just that much worse. Murphy's Law or whatever.
He swirled the tiny drops of water at the bottom of his glass around and around, eyes drooping. He rubbed once more at the little bits of crust that formed within the lids and brushed them into the air. How disgusting.
He placed the near empty glass back on his nightstand, pulling out the phone. He was immediately blasted by the bright blue light burning his retinas because, like every good citizen over the age of 30, he had his phone on max brightness. He mindlessly scrolled through apps and news, eyes blurry with tiredness and mind barely comprehending the visuals in front of his face.
At around 10am, he was starving. God forbid he call one of his soldiers up. He wasn't some ill king needing his servant to be at his feet. He was THE 007n7. And he'd act like it. As long as he didn't comment mentally on the fact that he was curled up like a cat clutching his hurt stomach.
He tried to get up on his feet, but as usual he couldn't achieve proper balance before his head quaked and legs crumbled beneath him.
He sighed, and leaned yet further back into his bed with defeat. And then he heard footsteps. At first, he assumed someone hadn't checked their emails this morning or talked to anyone else, and wandered into his room expecting him to be sitting at his desk as usual. Then he remembered that he had kept his door locked this morning. There was only one person who always seemed to know how to break in despite his best efforts, and they came with the jingling of bells. A figure who’d come rain or shine, sleet or snow, to visit.
"General? Have you fallen ill to the mortal situation of...well being ill?"
Noli.
He grumbled into his pillow, a croak in his throat replacing all possible words.
"Ah, I must take that as a yes."
They skipped over to his position, and sat down onto his bed with playful grace. They gently rubbed a gloved hand over his forehead.
"My my, you're burning up, dear!"
No shit Sherlock. He glared at them through dry eyes.
“Have you even eaten anything today? That small glass of water won’t do you wonders either.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child.”
Noli waves a hand defensively, “There’s a difference between me treating you like a child and needing care when you’re sick. Now,” They nab the glass away from him, “looks like I shall take upon this responsibility!”
“Don’t- eugh- Don’t you have better things to do?” He asked, the sludge in his throat making its way into his voice.
“Is this not a better thing? Do you not wish for me to care for you, O-Seven?”
He slams his eyes shut, their bright voice approaching nagging and annoying within his ears. When he reopens them, they’ve miraculously already filled up the glass. He takes a swig out of the cold, fresh water. They smile at him sweetly.
“You may stay, if only because I know you won’t leave if I tell you to.”
“I’m glad you’ve noticed!”
45 minutes later, Noli and 007n7 were watching a dumb romcom together; from across the room was a TV, with the volume set low and captions on. Noli was holding him gently, insisting that they lacked the capability to get sick. The content was simple, cheesy, but he had a secret love for the shit romance. Not like he’d tell anyone that…other than Noli.
The blankets were wrapped warmly around the two, with tissues and water on standby.
The film's plot was one of those classic Hallmark city person falling in love with the small town resident Christmas films, despite the winter holidays passing months ago. 007n7 seemed to be enjoying it though, so Noli did not protest. They did make a few snide remarks on the movie's plot, because "I'd never let any of my performances be so awfully predictable!".
Noli held him comfortably against their chest, the man still dreadfully warm. They joked that maybe it wasn't just the fever, but because he was flushed with love. They got wacked in the face for that. A pile of used tissues laid on the floor by the bed to be picked up later.
"You are not hungry at all?"
"No, it'll taste like shit anyways."
"Hm," Noli pondered, "but I do think it would be best if you did consume something, even if you don't feel hungry."
The movie droned on in the background as 007n7 slowly swallowed a dry muesli bar down his throat. It tasted 80% of nothing and 19% of vomit and 1% of its actual flavor, but it was something.
...
Noli ended up staying for longer than just a movie or 2. When 007n7's body started to collapse out of tiredness, Noli was there to lay by his side. Once he managed to miraculously fall asleep, Noli did leave for the duration of the rest, but checked in. It was the least they could do to show they cared.
When 007n7 woke up, he felt far better than the previous day. He still felt shit, and he probably wouldn’t be speaking much. But he could walk without wanting to dig a knife through his skull.
As he approached his desk, he saw a small, corny ‘Get well soon’ card with an egregious amount of pink, signed by none other than Noli. It was…thoughtful. He’d say that.