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You knew it had been coming. You’d seen the signs.
First was the empty lunchbox. You always packed him something to eat no matter the shift and he always promised he would. But it normally came back full, or at least half full, with a handful of protein bar wrappers stuffed inside the bottom of the bag. But for the last three shifts it had come back completely devoured. Spaghetti and meatballs. Pad Thai. A gyro. All cleared. No crumbs.
Second had been the sleep. It wasn’t obvious. He showered and changed still but there was nothing much else. He didn’t start cleaning like he normally did. Didn’t sit and watch TV with you. He just muttered something about heading to bed and you didn’t see him until it was time to head out to his next shift.
The last straw was the shift. It was offhand, with no real thought behind it, but it was like lightning to your core.
‘What did you say?’ you asked. Jack hesitated, head turning wondering what you’d caught.
‘Uh, I don’t know…’
‘Robby asked you to cover?’ you pressed.
‘Yeah…’
‘And you told him you couldn’t do it?’ you asked.
‘Yeah?’ Jack frowned, his brows knitting together.
‘Okay that’s it,’ you said, peeling yourself off the couch and heading towards him in the kitchen. Jack’s brows knit even tighter as you got into his personal space. He held out a hand, trying to fight you off, grabbing your wrist as you pressed a palm to his forehead.
‘What the-’
‘You’re sick,’ you declared.
‘I’m what-’
‘You’re sick,’ you reiterated.
‘I’m not sick,’ he scoffed.
‘Yes, you are,’ you said, dragging him towards the living room.
Jack let you push him down onto the couch, watching as you grabbed a blanket and draped it over his legs.
‘Babe I’m not-’
‘You want me to present my case?’ you asked, raising an eyebrow. Jack narrowed his eyes, but a smile tugged at his lips as you walked away, headed to the kitchen to grab him a glass of water and some cold and flu medicine.
He watched as you came back and sat opposite him on the coffee table, setting the spoils in your lap as you said, ‘okay so, first symptom is you eating like you actually should.’
‘You complain when I don’t eat on shift-’
‘Next,’ you said, ignoring him, ‘you’ve been sleeping a lot. Something you only do when you’re fighting something off.’
‘Doctors need rest,’ he countered.
‘What are you resting for? You refused to pick up an extra shift,’ you reasoned. Jack leaned forward, placing his hands on your thighs.
‘So I wanna spend a day off with you, is that a crime?’ he mused.
‘You shouldn’t harass your doctors, Mr Abbott,’ you warned. Jack grinned.
‘You’re my doctor now?’
‘I am when you won’t see the signs for yourself,’ you said, ‘so, are you gonna tell me what’s going on, or do I need to go through the full symptom list?’
‘I’d like a full work up doc,’ he said softly.
‘Well your airway is fine with all that yapping you’re doing,’ you mused. Jack grinned.
‘Breathing?’ you asked.
‘Fine,’ he said.
‘Any shortness of breath?’ you asked.
‘Nope,’ he answered.
‘Did you take the elevator or the stairs today?’ you asked. Jack paused, and you raised an eyebrow.
‘Elevator,’ he admitted, catching your triumphant smile before you could get it out, ‘but I had Robby with me!’
‘Heart?’ you said, ignoring his excuses and reaching for his wrist. You could feel his pulse thrumming against your finger. You frowned, ‘it’s fast.’
‘Side effect of being around you,’ Jack quipped.
‘You’re hot too,’ you noted.
‘Now whose harassing who?’
‘I meant you’re warm, dumbass,’ you countered, pulling the blanket off his legs.
‘Not that hot,’ Jack whined.
‘If I check your scrubs, am I gonna find sweat patches?’
‘I work hard,’ Jack reasoned.
‘Not enough to sweat through your damn scrubs,’ you said, offering him the fever reducers. Jack looked at them and then sighed, taking them and the glass of water from you. You watched him choke them down, gulping the water down because now he’d swallowed something his throat had started to feel like razor blades again.
‘How long have you felt like crap?’ you asked. Jack sighed softly.
‘Since Monday.’
‘You’ve worked four shifts this week!’ you gasped.
‘I felt well enough to work,’ he reasoned.
‘And if you got someone else sick?’ you asked. Jack pouted silently. Because he knew you were right.
‘When’s your next shift?’ you asked.
‘Sunday night,’ he said.
‘Okay fine, you’re resting till then,’ you said, ‘I’ll take the day off.’
‘No, not at all,’ Jack said, trying to stand up but you pushed him right back down, your glare stern.
‘I can work from home, and I can’t trust you to look after yourself,’ you explained.
‘I’ll relax. I promise,’ he said.
‘Until SWAT calls or you find something that needs fixing or cleaning or whatever it is you do when I’m not here,’ you said.
‘You’re gonna force me to sit still? Not very doctor-like,’ Jack mused with a smirk.
‘Good thing I’m not a doctor huh?’ you grinned.
Jack rolled his eyes as you toddled off into the kitchen, no doubt to call your boss and set up the sick bay for the day. Then he reached for the remote and turned on the TV, leaving the volume down low as he settled against the cushions, sleep already pulling at his eyelids. As he closed his eyes, he couldn't even bring himself to complain. For today, he was off the clock and more than content to let the other Dr. Abbott run the show.