Potable

DiNozzo cursed. This was like the worst possible time to get sick. Gibbs and him were in a third world backwater country where they were lucky if they could find potable water. How the heck was he supposed to stay alive while sick when they could barely get appropriate water. At least the food was plentiful if questionable since who knows what water they used to cook it with.

Fortunately, they were on a sanctioned mission where they didn’t need to hide and weren’t being chased by anyone as DiNozzo definitely couldn’t move fast enough to keep up with something like that though he would have tried for Gibbs.

He groaned on his cot. His nose was running. His throat was sore. His head was fuzzy and he could hardly think straight. He felt bad about leaving the crime solving to Gibbs, but the truth was he could barely keep his eyes open and didn’t really have enough energy to even move from the cot he was laying on.

Supposedly there was a doctor watching over him, but he really questioned the doctor’s ability as he was pretty sure the locals referred to her as a witch doctor. He just wanted to go home where he could lie in his comfortable bed and feel miserable for himself and Ducky and Dr. Pitt could mother hen him, but he knew that wouldn’t happen until the case was solved.

If it became a matter of life and death, they may ship him home and straight to the hospital, but even that he thought to be an unlikely outcome. He just hoped he didn’t get a fever because that would make this a million times worse especially as Gibbs didn’t have time to sit at his bedside and comfort him, since he had to do both of their work with him out of commission.

DiNozzo was lucky if he got to see Gibbs when he came into their room to sleep. Technically he should be in what amounted to a hospital or sick room here, but he’d fallen ill in his bed and as Gibbs immune system was made of steel and thus incapable of getting a common cold or whatever it was DiNozzo had they’d agreed that it would be better to let him stay there rather than forcing him to move which would only stress his body out.

Most of the time Tony was actually asleep when Gibbs returned to their room, so he never saw the tender looks or felt the brushes of Gibbs hand against his forehead as Gibbs whispered, “Get well soon, Tony. I need you by my side.”