Archive: Ask Please
Disclaimer: Not mine, if I owned them Beka and Rhade would be together and Seefra would never have happened. Neither would have Arkology.
Setting/Season: Season 4
Summary: Beka has a cold. Rhade comes to see her.
Beka groaned miserably as she came down from another coughing fit that racked her body. She fell back against the pillows and reached for a Kleenex while reminding herself that this was all Dylan's fault.
She had started to get sick after another of Dylan's little visits to some small remote planet with absolutely nothing to add to the Commonwealth. Beka sneezed three more times and cursed Dylan for his charity. It was his fault for leading them into a situation where she would get sneezed on by someone who gave her their cold.
She hated planets. Planets and their diseases.
She sniffled and closed her eyes hoping that this was all a bad dream. Her head hurt, her sinuses ached, she was slightly dizzy, cold, and the coughing and sneezing just wouldn't quit.
There was nothing in the universe that could make her feel better now.
She moaned helplessly as her door slid open. She really didn't want to put up with Trance again. The resident medic had wanted to keep her in Med. Bay but Beka was firmly set on living out her illness on the Maru. Her stubbornness had won out and Trance had relented, only to keep stopping by the Maru with shots, water, and pleas to get her back into Medical.
"I'm not leaving this bed Trance."
"The you should be happy that I'm not Trance."
Beka's eyes shot open before she groaned and pulled the blankets over her head.
She really did not need him seeing her like this. Bloodshot eyes, runny nose, really messed up hair...real attractive Valentine...
She fixed Rhade with a glare after he yanked the blanket away from her head and sat on the side of her bed.
She looked at him in confusion before she saw the steaming bowl he held out for her.
"It's soup Beka."
"You brought me soup?"
Beka made a face. All Trance would give her was soup, and maybe some toast if she was feeling generous.
"And I brought you a cookie," said Rhade flashing the chocolate chipped confectionary in front of her face. Beka smiled with glee as she reached for it but her face fell when he held it out of her grasp and stated, "Soup first."
"I'm tired of soup," whined Beka, "give me my cookie..."
She watched in horror as he smirked and bit into the cookie, "Mmm you know it's very good..."
"Give me the soup."
Trust a Nietzschean to bring a cookie to a sick woman and then help himself to part of it in a blackmail attempt.
Rhade watched in amusement as Beka finished the cookie, slowly savouring every bite as if Trance would pop up at any moment and grab it from her.
"Very...despite still being sick."
"You're starting to look a little better."
"I look horrible," she sniffled.
"Not that bad." He held out a kleenex for her.
"Liar." She took the kleenex and unceremoniously blew her nose before sneezing. It was gross and disgusting and Rhade was right there too. But Beka had to remind herself that as horrible as itwas, it would be much better to blow her nose now than leave it, sneeze, and have snot shoot out everywhere.
That would be even more embarrassing.
"Nietzscheans don't get sick do they?"
Rhade quirked an eyebrow, "I thought you were immunized against something like this?"
"Well apparently not this strain," she said, "So now I'm miserable, cold, stuffed up, sneezing, and why are you still here?"
"I can't check up on you?"
"You wanted to check up on me? What you want to be my snuggle buddy while I'm obviously so attractive?"
Beka's snapped her mouth shut. What did she just say that? Where the hell had that come from?
Beka was too busy mentally questioning herself that she almost missed Rhade's quietly uttered comment.
Beka was just about to ask him to repeat his comment when his sudden movement caught her attention.
"What are you doing?" she asked as he rearranged himself to lay down beside her, arm around her shoulders so her head could rest on his chest.
"I've decided to share your misery."
And who was she to argue? When an amazing Nietzschean who you're in denial with offers to be your body pillow you let him have his way.
He was so warm, it felt good to cuddle up to something that could ease her coldness, which she was so busy doing that she didn't notice her hand sneaking beneath his shirt. Once she became aware of her travelling limb she stammered out an apology.
"Um...sorry." Her retreating hand was caught by his and pressed back to his skin underneath his shirt.
Well if it didn't bother him...
Beka cleared her throat and inched closer to him. With the blush creeping up her face, she didn't feel cold anymore. Closing her eyes she concentrated instead on the muscle beneath her. A beautifully sculpted torso that rose and fell with his steady breathing. She could count out his heartbeats if she tried. His stomach beneath her hand was strong and firm, amazing, like the rest of him.
Maybe being sick wasn't so bad after all.
A/N: This has been on my computer for about a week now and I finally got the urge to finish it:)
I wonder if I should do another chapter from Rhade's POV...