A/N: So this bad boy just popped up a few days ago, and wouldn't leave me alone. It's a two-shot, and this first part really got away from me. Enjoy. Oh and this takes place at some point before 1x07.
Emma groaned as she pulled up at Granny's. Graham had explicitly told her that it was her day to bring in coffee and donuts. Heaving a sigh, Emma pulled herself from her small bug, and started toward the front door. Pulling it open, Emma almost jumped as the bell above the door jingled out her arrival. Rolling her eyes at her jumpiness, she stalked forward and offered a small smile to Ruby.
"Graham's usual order?" the waitress asked, her eyebrow quirked slightly.
"Yeah, but can you add a hot cocoa to that order? I'm pretty sure that I'm going to need the extra sugar today." Emma asked softly.
Ruby nodded, before disappearing to the kitchen. Emma pulled herself up onto one of the bar stools while she waited. Tapping her fingers against the counter, she let her mind drift off. After what felt like only a few minutes, Emma felt someone tap her on the shoulder, swiveling her head around, she smiled weakly at Ruby.
"Maybe you should just call in sick today, Emma. You look absolutely exhausted."
Emma shrugged, "I'm alright up and dressed. Besides, once I get this coffee in my system, I'll be fine." She reached into her back pocket and pulled out some cash and laid some down on the counter. "Thanks, Ruby."
"You're welcome, Emma." Ruby answered, before picking up the money that Emma had laid down on the counter.
"You better enjoy these donuts, Graham." Emma mumbled as she tried to situate the box of donuts and the carrier of hot drinks in her arms.
Emma nudged the station door open with her hip. She knew that Graham was already here, since the cruiser was sitting in his parking spot. She had tapped her elbow against the glass door four times before she had given up in a huff, and shoved the door open as best as she could. Anger clouded her vision for a moment, figuring that she'd find Graham just sitting at his desk, staring off into space like usual, or tossing his darts at the dartboard and never missing.
As she stormed into the station and sat the donuts and coffee down on her desk, Emma turned toward Graham's office and shoved the small door open. Typically she at least found the respect to at least give a curtsey knock before barging in. Today though, respect was beneath her. She stopped dead in her tracks, her eyebrows pulling up in confusion. Of every different scenario that Emma dreamt up of what had caused Graham to not open the door for her, this was so far down the list that it hadn't even made the list. Granted, she hadn't been Graham's deputy for all that long, she had still never seen this happen.
Graham's head was lulled forward against the smooth surface of his desk. His eyes were closed and Emma was almost positive that there was a small pool of drool underneath his mouth.
Shaking her head, Emma stalked forward and tried to ignore how absolutely adorable Graham looked sleeping. If she allowed his adorableness take over, then her anger would dissipate and she wouldn't be able to yell at him after she woke him up.
Softly, Emma nudged Graham's arm. He moaned softly, before turning his head away from her. Emma's lip curled back in anger. With more force, Emma nudged his arm again. He moaned, but lifted his head slightly.
"Emma?" he rasped out.
Emma's nose wrinkled at the way his voice sounded. She had heard that sound before. She knew what that amount of hoarseness meant, and instantly felt bad for waking Graham up.
"Graham, are you sick?" Emma asked.
Graham swiveled his head in her direction and groaned. "No. Just tired." His voice was starting to sound even raspier than before.
"Come on, let's get you home. You're not doing me any good being all sick, and you're definitely not doing yourself any good. You need to be in bed, Graham."
He shook his head, and moaned. His fingers pressed to his temples. "I'm not sick." He pleaded through slitted eyes.
Emma grinned, she had noticed a few things, mostly small, here or there, that she had in common with the sheriff. This whole denying sickness thing, was definitely something that they had in common. She didn't know how many times she had almost had to be hospitalized because she didn't just stop for a moment while she was sick. Luckily for Graham, she knew the tricks, and she damn sure wasn't going to let him work himself into the hospital.
"Okay. If you're not sick, then open your eyes without squinting, moaning, or groaning."
Graham stared at her, a scowl on his face for a moment. He knew that he would never be able to appease her, because he knew that if he did what she asked that it was going to cause the throbbing in his temples to worsen. That didn't mean he was sick. He just had a headache...possibly a sore throat. It was no big deal really. Even if he did feel like someone had run him over numerous times. He would never admit that out-loud, especially to Emma. She would just make him go home and go to bed. He also would never admit how wonderful that sounded.
"Sometime today, Graham. Some of us actually have work to do."
He attempted to nod, but ended up groaning instead. He wouldn't admit it, but his stomach was rolling uncomfortably. Graham tried to think quickly through the fog that clouded his mind. He was definitely going to throw up, but he really didn't want Emma to see that. Then again, Graham was fairly certain that he would never make it to the bathroom.
Emma could see the look on Graham's face, as he paled considerably. Bending down, she grabbed the trash can and shoved it under Graham's chin as he retched into it. He gagged a few added times, before leaning back in his chair. Emma could see the thin sheen of sweat on his brow and how the pallor of his skin had lightened to an almost see-through white. Graham was sicker than she thought, and she didn't like the thought of leaving him alone.
"Graham." She called, as his eyes started to droop close. His eyes snapped open as he gazed at her dazedly. "I'm going to reroute the station calls to my cell, and then I'm taking you home. You need rest, and I don't relish the thought of leaving you alone. Not when you're this sick."
When all he did was merely stare at her, Emma sighed. She made sure that Graham had a decent grip on the trash can in-case he felt sick again, while she set to work on rerouting the calls. It was going to be one hellish long day. Which reminded her, she needed to call Mary Margaret and let her know what was going on. As much as she didn't want to, Emma was pretty sure she would end up sleeping on Graham's couch tonight.
Emma groaned as she repositioned Graham's arm around her shoulder. She sent a glare at his half unconscious self, before climbing the last few stairs. She was at least thankful that she had gotten his keys from him before they even left the station. Pulling the keys from her pocket, she stared at them for a moment. She knew which key belonged to the cruiser, which belonged to the sheriff's station. Wrinkling her nose, she glared at the last two keys. Choosing one, Emma jammed it into the lock and twisted. When the lock didn't let loose, she sighed. Of course on a fifty-fifty shot, she would pick the wrong key. Grabbing hold of the right one, Emma shoved it into the lock and smiled when the lock let loose and the door swung open.
Slowly, she guided Graham to the couch and helped him sit down. "Stay put." Emma said sternly.
Graham just stared at her, his eyes glassy. "We're I'm gonna go?"
Rolling her eyes, Emma pulled herself up to her full height and wondered off to locate the bathroom. After opening two doors, and finding a bedroom and a closet, she located the bathroom. Walking into it, she pulled the medicine cabinet open and dug through it. She yelled victorious when she finally located both, a thermometer and cold medicine.
Walking back into the living room, Emma groaned. Graham had slid sideways, his head was lulled off to the right. With as frustrated she was at the fact that she would have to wake her boss, yet again, Emma had to admit that he looked absolutely adorable like that. After a few moments of watching Graham sleeping, almost peacefully, Emma shook his arm. Graham moaned softly, but rose back into a sitting position.
"Open your mouth." Emma instructed.
Through bleary eyes, Graham stared at Emma, but did as she instructed. Emma placed the thermometer under his tongue, and waited while he closed his mouth around the device. While she waited for the thermometer to beep, Emma walked into the kitchen and snooped around for a drinking glass. Four open and slammed cabinets later, Emma located the glasses and pulled one from it's perch. She filled it with water and returned to the living room. As soon as she sat the glass down on the coffee table, the thermometer beeped loudly.
Graham's hand sluggishly made a move for the thermometer, but Emma merely slapped it away before removing the device from Graham's mouth. Sighing, Emma shook her head.
"102.5. Not good, Graham. How long have you felt sick?" she asked him, as she placed her forearm against his cheek.
He shrugged sluggishly, as he attempted to pry his droopy eyes open. "A day or two." He answered huskily. His Irish lilt becoming more noticeable.
Emma shook her head, and tried to figure out how she didn't realize that Graham had been so sick. She instantly felt bad that she hadn't noticed that he hadn't felt good, and vowed to nurse him back to health.
"Let's get you into bed, Sheriff. You need rest and fluids." She grabbed the dis-guarded glass and the pills she had retrieved from the kitchen. She placed them in either of his hands and waited as he placed the pills in his mouth and took a long pull from the glass of water. Her nose wrinkled when he cringed as he swallowed down the mixture of pills and water.
She took the nearly empty glass of water from Graham's hand, before trying to help pull him into a standing position. Once she had him up, she slung one of his arms over her shoulder and maneuvered him toward his bedroom. He staggered a bit before falling onto his bed.
"You're really not going to be comfortable in that. I'll grab you something more comfortable to change into." Emma said, as she started to dig through Graham's drawers. After a couple of moments, Emma pulled out a pair of pajama bottoms and a plain white cotton t-shirt. She swallowed thickly before turning back toward Graham. "Do you need me to help you?" she asked.
Graham attempted to shake his head, after he pulled himself into a semi-sitting position. When the movement caused his head to ache with renewed force and his bedroom to spin in quick circles, he peered at Emma sheepishly.
She sighed. Emma had hoped that he wouldn't need help, but she couldn't deny a man so sick. Slowly, she walked forward and placed her hands on his shoulders.
He grinned at her, his glassy eyes seeing two of Emma. "I've waited so long to have you undress me, Deputy Swan."
Emma snorted. "Smooth, Graham. Real smooth."
With the tension in the room cut, thanks to Graham's untimely, and albeit lame, wit, Emma found herself less nervous about her current job. Fixing her fingers over the buttons on Graham's vest. She quickly undid them, and removed the vest from around his shoulders. Sighing softly, she went to work on his dress shirt, quickly undoing the buttons. Emma peeled the shirt from Graham's burning flesh and groaned. Of course his choice of clothing didn't leave a whole lot to the imagination as far as his muscle definition went, but she still hadn't been ready. His chest was well defined, but it was the fact that the sheriff was hiding a well defined six pack under his dorky vest and dress shirt that really boggled her mind. After a moment, Emma realized that she was ogling his bare chest. She flushed and Graham chuckled which led into a coughing fit.
That was definitely a mood killer, Emma thought with a smirk on her face. She pulled Graham's arms around her shoulders and helped him stand up. Once she was certain he wouldn't fall back down, Emma pulled the shirt up and over his head. Once she had it tugged on, she looked down.
"You can handle the pants part, right?"
One side of Graham's lips lifted in a lop-sided smile, "Of course." He whispered huskily.
Emma swallowed thickly and turned toward the door. "I'll just be in the living room. I'll be back to check on you in a few hours. If you need anything before then, call me. I don't want you try to walk around by yourself."
"Okay." Graham mumbled, as he started to tug on his belt.
Emma jerked herself awake. Dammit, she cursed in her mind. She hadn't meant to fall asleep, but Graham's couch was so damn comfortable and she was damn exhausted. Emma had even turned on the television to help keep herself awake and vigilant in case Graham needed her. She sighed, as she pulled herself into a sitting position. Then it dawned on her that something had woken her up. Glancing at the clock, she shook her head. How had five hours passed without her knowing about it?
That's when she heard the noise that had woken her up again. A pain-filled scream erupted from Graham's room. Without a second thought, Emma jumped to her feet and ran toward his bedroom. Shoving the door open, she found him bent over double. There was vomit on the floor, and Graham was clutching at his sides as he heaved again.
Emma closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths, before she joined him on the throwing up bandwagon. After she was certain she had control over her stomach, Emma opened her eyes. Graham had slumped back against the bed, sweat was pouring down the sides of his face. His skin had grown much paler than it had been before. Her eyebrows knitted together in concern as she stepped forward, sidestepping the mess on the floor, and pressed her forearm against Graham's forehead.
His head had only grown warmer in the five hours he had been asleep. She stared at him, as she contemplated taking him to the hospital. Emma was pretty sure that Graham had merely caught a really nasty flu bug, but she wanted to be safe. Emma knew just how dangerous high fevers could be, she had been on Graham's side of that certain equation more than once.
"Please. Just make it stop." Graham moaned out. Tears slipped down his cheeks, as his arm draped softly over his stomach.
Emma felt horrible for Graham, and wished there was something more she could do for him. She sighed softly, "I'm going to get you some more medicine and take your temperature again."
Graham merely moaned in answer, as Emma disappeared from the room. She stalked down the hallway and quickly located the dis-guarded items from earlier. Picking them all up, she walked quickly back down the hallway and back into Graham's bedroom. It appeared that he had fallen asleep again, but Emma knew it was important to get another dose of medicine in his system.
"Graham." Emma coaxed softly, as she shook his arm. He moaned, before cracking an eyelid open. "Mouth." She said softly and waited as he did as he was told. Placing the device in his mouth, Emma sat down on the edge of the bed and waited for the device to beep. Once it did, she removed the thermometer from Graham's mouth and frowned at the device. 103 was far too high. Pulling out the correct dosage of cold medicine into her head, Emma elbow Graham's arm.
"I thought I was supposed to sleep." He groaned, as he opened his eyes.
"You are, but I need you to take these. While you do that, I'm going to get you a cold compress to help with your fever."
"Okay." Graham sighed, as he took the pills that she offered him, before chasing them down with water. He hoped with everything in him that both, the pills and water, would stay put in his stomach. Another round of violent vomiting didn't sound like something that would be fun.
Emma stalked off to the bathroom. She pulled a small towel from the linen closet and drenched it in ice cold water from the tap. She squeezed out the excess water from the towel, before turning back toward the bedroom. Graham was laying on his side, a soft snore erupted from his mouth. Emma took a moment to admire how adorable he looked, before stepping forward and placing the cold towel against Graham's forehead.
"Shit!" Graham cursed, as he jumped up at the surprising cold fabric.
Emma bit her lip to keep from chuckling at the confusion written on Graham's face. "I told you I was getting you a cold compress."
Graham sighed, before wriggling his body back down onto the bed. His eyes started to drift close as he felt Emma turning to leave. "Emma." He called out hoarsely.
She turned back toward Graham, her eyebrow raised curiously. "Yeah?"
He cracked his eyelid open again, and stared at her. Graham had known from the moment that she vowed to take him home and make sure that he got rest, the he would owe her big time. He hated what he was about to ask, he didn't want her to risk getting sick anymore than she already had, but he also didn't want to be alone. "Could you maybe sit with me? Just until I fall asleep?"
Emma just stared at him for a moment. The honesty in his voice and the embarrassment written on his face made her realize that she couldn't deny his request. "Sure." She answered. She knew that she needed to clean up the floor before it set in any further and stained the carpet. The smell was already starting to overwhelm the small room, but his eyes were pleading with her. "Just, let me clean that up first, otherwise you won't be the only one worried about throwing up." Emma wrinkled her nose.
He nodded his head, as Emma disappeared again. She returned after a few moments with a small bucket full of water and a trash can. She sat the trash can down beside Graham. "Next time you have to throw up, aim for that, please."
One side of Graham's mouth pulled up in a lop-sided smile. "I'll try."
Emma sat to work on cleaning up the mess on the floor, working hard to keep the small amount of food she had eaten, where it was meant to stay. Ten minutes later, Emma gave up. She had gotten most of it up, and it smelt at least somewhat better in the room. Emma went back into the bathroom and dumped the disgusting water into the tub and decided to deal with that later. Grabbing the floral spray from the counter into the bathroom, Emma walked back into the bedroom and sprayed a generous amount of the strong-smelling spray around the room. She dropped the can off on the dresser before crawling onto Graham's bed, next to him. She felt his body relax and his breathing start to even out. In a matter of minutes Graham was sound asleep and Emma felt herself starting to drift off as well.
Emma groaned, as she blinked her eyes bleary. Had she fallen asleep again? Sighing, she attempted to sit up, but noticed that her arms were wet. Staring at them, she realized that the bed and Graham's pillow were soaked. Fear hit her first, as she felt his face. Fear fell away to relief. His fever had pretty much broken. He was only slightly warm now. Glancing at the alarm clock on Graham's nightstand, she sighed. Almost eight hours had passed since Emma had brought Graham back to his apartment. She was starving, and she was hopeful now that his fever was down that he might be able to keep down some food.
Shaking his shoulder, she waited through his groan before speaking. "How're you feeling?" she asked softly.
He moaned, as he turned onto his back. He glanced at her for a moment before answering. "Not quite like I'm about to die. I did throw up again, but I made it into the trash can like you asked."
Emma grinned. He was joking again, that was definitely a plus. She wondered briefly how she had slept through Graham throwing up, but merely shook it off. "I'm starving, and I know you have to be too. Do you think you can keep down some soup?"
Graham brought his index finger to his chin and tapped. On one side, he was definitely starving and soup sounded wonderful on his dry and raw throat. However, on the other side, he was pretty sure he didn't even want to throw up again. Ever. Contemplating both sides, Graham realized that if he was going to throw up again, that it would be with or without food. Might as well soothe his aching throat.
"Soup sounds amazing." He rasped out.
Emma smiled softly at him, before placing the back of her hand against his cheek. "Just let me check your temperature one more time. You feel much cooler, but I want to make sure."
Graham nodded softly, as she placed the device in his mouth. She waited until it beeped before removing it. "What's the damage?" he asked.
"Much better. 99.5 is barely a temperature."
Emma made a move to get off the bed, when Graham reached out and snagged her wrist. "Emma, wait." She turned back toward him, and saw the conflict written on his face before he spoke. "I just—thank you. For taking care of me. No one has ever cared enough to do that before. It means a lot, and I definitely owe you one."
Emma sat there for a moment, taking in what he's said. It broke her heart to realize that no one had ever cared enough about Graham's well-being to take care of him. Then again, she knew what it felt like to have no one care about you. To have no one take care of you. "You're welcome, Graham. I've been there too. I know what it's like." She sighed, she hadn't meant to said the words out-loud, but oddly, she didn't want to take them back. Graham smiled softly at her, as she stood up from his bed. She stretched out the kinks in her back and started to walk toward the door. Pausing for a moment, she grinned as she turned back toward Graham. "And you definitely do owe me one."
Graham chuckled lightly, as he watched her walk out of his bedroom. He had always hated being sick, but if being sick meant spending the day with Emma Swan, then he would surely take it.