Not Without You [Chris Evans]

73

Megan's POV

About halfway through the night I woke up feeling cold so I rolled over closer to Chris, seeking his warmth. I was a little surprised when I couldn't even get close to him, quickly realizing something was wrong when I put my arm around him.

"Chris?" I turned on the lamp beside the bed to see him shivering violently, cocooned in all the blankets. "Are you sick?"

He nodded once, not opening his eyes. "Yeah," he croaked. "S-s-sorry ab-bout t-this."

"It's not your fault you're sick. Do you think it was something you ate?"

"N-n-no. I'm j-j-just so c-c-cold," he managed to get out through his chattering teeth.

I reached over and touched his damp, clammy forehead, alarmed at how warm he was. He was definitely sick - he was sweating like he'd just got done with an intense workout but was still cold.

"I'm going to see if they have an on-call doctor here, Chris." A lot of times fancy hotels like the one we were at either had a doctor on staff or a contract with a local physician that would come directly to the room. "Why don't you go take a hot shower to see if you can get warm that way?"

He nodded, clearly miserable but slowly got up and made his way to the bathroom. I dialed the concierge and sure enough, they had a doctor in residence that would be by shortly. I found something to wear and slipped on my robe while I waited.

* *

"Thank you again for coming so quickly," I said as I saw the doctor out a short while later.

"You're welcome, Ms Jones. A delivery person should be by with those prescriptions shortly. Please feel free to call if his condition doesn't improve in 24 hours."

"I'll keep that in mind," I said, taking the card from him with his direct line information. It was official - Chris had the flu. By the time the doctor had gotten here he'd been praying to the porcelain god and was camping on the cold tiled bathroom floor.

I decided I'd better text Josh so he could deal with arrangements. Chris was supposed to be back at Comic-Con again tomorrow for the last day of panels but I highly doubted that was going to happen even if he felt better.

I called room service and had them send up some crackers and a couple of several classic sick day drinks: Gatorade, ginger ale and 7 Up. I wasn't sure what he preferred when he was sick so I figured I better get some of all of them. I attempted to get Chris back to bed, having to verbally coax him since there was no way I could help him physically and he was worried I'd hurt myself. I finally managed it, putting a plastic lined trash can on the floor next to him just as both room service and his medicine arrived.

* *

"Hey babe, I've got your medicine." Chris gave me a grumpy face and clamped his mouth shut. Dealing with sick Chris really wasn't a walk in the park, more like dealing with a cranky toddler, actually - which meant I was at least prepared for stubborn defiance. "This one you don't have to swallow. It goes under your tongue and dissolves; it will help make it so you don't feel like you need to throw up."

He looked at me for a moment, weighing his options. I held up the Zofran tablet so he could see it and he finally opened his mouth so I could put the little tablet under his tongue.

"See, that wasn't so bad. It usually tastes kind of like cherries." Chris nodded in agreement. "When you feel like you want a drink and it'll stay down, I need you to take your Tamiflu." He stared at me dully, a mulish set to his jaw. "It's a small little capsule and it'll make you feel better faster if you take it. Do you want ginger ale, 7 Up or yellow Gatorade?"