A/N: This story of for Abbigail and her hospital mate, Leroy. Hope this brings at least a brief smile to your face!


"I am not sick!"

"Yes, you are, Gibbs!" Abby persisted. "Look at yourself! You're pale, sweaty, and you sound like you have been smoking four packs of cigs all your life!"

"And you're a peach!" he snapped, immediately feeling bad about it. He really wasn't himself today.

"That's not nice, Gibbs."

"I know. I'm so-," he stopped when he realized what he was saying.

Abby's mouth dropped open. "Alright, now I KNOW you're sick!"

"I don't get sick."

Abby let out a frustrated sigh. Not thinking twice about it, she grabbed his coffee cup out of his hand and took a big sip from it. His face registered pure shock that anyone, even Abby, would be so bold. "There!" she said spitting venom. "Now, when I get sick, I'll go to the doctor and let you know what we've got."

"That was a really stupid move, Abby." It was rare that she see Gibbs so upset with her, but it really only gave her leverage.

"Why are you so upset? It's not like you're sick or something." Gibbs just continued to stare at her. She turned him around so he was facing the door to her lab. She started pushing him towards it. "Now go home before you don't infect someone with your non-existent illness!"

The next morning, Gibbs went down to see Abby and give her, probably her second, Caf-Pow! of the day. She wasn't there though. He had taken the day off yesterday like she had insisted, but decided to come in today, even though he was feeling worse than before. He really hoped she was feeling alright.

He didn't see her until later that afternoon, when she emerged from the elevator wearing a surgical mask. This isn't going to be good, he thought. She walked up to him and thrust her hand, holding another mask, out. "What's this for?" He was barely able to get the words out. All of that hot liquid he had been drinking and he still felt like his throat was sandpaper.

"To stop you from spreading your non-existent illness," she muffled through her mask. Her voice was sounding pretty rough, as well. "I just got back from the doctor's office."

"I thought you were kidding about that." She shook her head and dropped the mask onto his desk. Gibbs was only able to see Abby's eyes, but he still didn't like the look in them. "Are you alright?"

"No, WE aren't," she stressed.

"I'm afraid she's right, Jethro," said Ducky entering the bullpen. "You both seem to have the flu."

"The flu," Tony said in a quiet voice as more of a statement than a question. Ever since he had the Plague, he was afraid of getting even a cold. But who could blame him?

"Put that on," said Ducky pointing to the mask.

"I'll just go home," Gibbs said while shutting down his computer and grabbing his things.

"You're not going home." Gibbs shot a questioning glance at Ducky. "You're going to go get checked out at a hospital." Before Gibbs had a chance to object, Ducky forcefully continued. "You've ignored your symptoms too long! You are hardly ever sick, so your immune system probably isn't as strong as it should be. Plus, at your age, you are very susceptible to pneumonia."

"You really should get a chest x-ray, Boss," McGee chimed in from his desk.

Gibbs was not feeling up for the fight. He didn't feel like doing much of anything, honestly. He was starting to feel bad for telling Abby he was fine yesterday when he so clearly was not (denial is a powerful thing). Maybe then she wouldn't have drank from his cup making her sick, too. He picked up the mask and placed it over his nose and mouth, refusing to put the elastic band around his head.