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It all started when Desmond woke up one beautiful morning. He stretched, yawned loudly, and winced when his throat twinged.

"Agh, shit…"

He cleared his throat, trying to see if that would help. All it did was make it worse. Lucy peeked around the corner, two cups of coffee in hand, "You okay, Desmond?"

He rubbed his throat, wincing again, "Yeah, I'm fine…. Throat's just kinda… ehhn." He shook his hand in the air, meaning so-so.

"I see… here, I brought you some coffee." She offered him the mug, and he took it gladly, cautiously sipping the hot liquid. Despite the fact that it burned his tongue, he was glad for the soothing effect it had on his throat.

"Thanks, Lucy."

"Don't mention it. You ready to get to work?"

"You know it." He got up off the bed and picked up his hoody from where he had hung it the previous night and tugged it on, striding around the partition to where the Animus and its team sat.

While he got a "Mornin', Desmond!" from Rebecca, he got nothing from Shaun but silence. He couldn't have that.

"Mornin', limey."

A grunt. It was something.

"Aw, you can do better than that," he snorted.

"Alright, then how's this? Oh, hello Desmond, I'm so glad you're awake! My day just wouldn't be complete without greeting you every day oh so cheerily, and I think I'm going to hurl from how happy I'm feeling!"

"… you had your coffee yet, Shaun?"

"No, now get in the damn machine."

He heard the lack of malice there and smiled. He waited until Lucy and Rebecca were distracted before leaning over and placing a kiss on Shaun's cheek, "Mornin' to you too, babe."

Shaun snorted in embarrassment, ears going a bit red, before he waved him off.

Desmond smirked and sat in the chair, and soon he was running along the rooftops of Venice as Ezio.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As he re-entered reality a few hours later, Desmond dragged a hand down his face with a soft groan. It had been a tough time in the Animus. He couldn't keep synchronized for more than an hour, and no matter what Rebecca did, she couldn't fix it. They finally pulled him out to run some more diagnostics on the thing, if it was even that.

Truth be told, he didn't feel so hot. His throat hurt again and a headache was assaulting his temples and the back of his eyes. He felt chilly, despite the jacket he wore, and he could barely breathe through his nose.

He hauled himself up out of the chair, getting out of the way, and felt himself sway a bit. He could feel someone's worried eyes on him, and a quick glance over his shoulder showed him it was Shaun, glancing towards him. He could only assume he looked about as good as he felt, or at least gave off some hint of it.

Normally starving after having been in the Animus, he went back to the bed and flopped onto it, feeling nothing but his chills.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Shaun watched Desmond disappear to his bed, gnawing his bottom lip worriedly, even a bit nervously. Normally, the soon-to-be assassin would be whining loudly for some form of sustenance, but he had said nothing. He'd barely even spared a smile… or a complaint… nor had he come to aggravate Shaun, something the Brit knew he greatly enjoyed doing-and Shaun would never admit to loving the attention from the other man, but he did-and hadn't he looked a tad pale?

Was the other man coming down with something…?

He turned his attention to the girls as Rebecca sighed loudly, "Well? How's it look?"

Rebecca shook her head, "It seems to be working fine, but I dunno… we'll have to try again," she looked around, only just noticing the missing member, "Wow, Desmond go to bed already?"

Lucy looked over, spotting the white and denim lump that was Desmond, "Apparently," she put a hand to her hip, casting him a worried glance, "I hope he's alright…"

"Oh, he'll be fine. Must've slept bad or something…." Shaun hoped he sounded more confident than he felt.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Once the girls had retreated to another part of the warehouse to do God knows what, Shaun checked on Desmond. He hadn't moved an inch. That didn't surprise Shaun as much as the fact that he could see Desmond's form shivering, not at all matching the light sheet of sweat on his face. His brows knitted in concern; it wasn't like Desmond to get sick… hell, the man seemed nothing but near invincible when it came to his health.

All he had to do was place his hand on Desmond's shoulder to feel his increased body temperature, and his slight scowl deepened into a frown. He shook the other man lightly, "Desmond… Desmond!"

Desmond awoke groggily, curling away from Shaun with a growl, "Five more minutes…" he slurred.

Shaun sighed and rolled his eyes, shaking his shoulder away, "Get up, Desmond. You need to eat something."

Desmond muttered something about a green eagle that made Shaun snort and raise an eyebrow. Still, he kept shaking his shoulder, "Desmond, if you don't get up, I'll dump a whole pot of ice water on you. I'll do it, I swear."

That threat finally got the assassin-in-training to sluggishly sit up, stifling a small cough, "Sh-Shaun…? Shit, what t-time is it…? I didn't mean to f-fall asleep..."

Shaun hushed him with a cool hand to his flushed face, "It's been about two hours since you got out of the Animus, but don't worry about it, Des. Lord, you're burning up, mate…."

Desmond coughed into his arm, "I'm f-freezin'…" he hunched in on himself, sniffling as his nose threatened to leak.

The Brit stepped back and chewed his lip, thinking on his course of action as Desmond wrapped himself in the blanket from the bed, coughing and sniffling once again. First thing's first, he needed to get Desmond some food, "Stay here."

"Didn't plan on movin'…"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Desmond watched the ginger's back as he disappeared from the main room, pulling the blanket closer about himself. He felt like he had been doused in chilled water… and then stood outside in the cold wind. His muscles were aching dully, and his head throbbed. He decided to call hoarsely after Shaun before he could completely leave, "Bring a box of tissues with you!" He got a waved affirmative from the other man.

With the other gone, he groaned and flopped over on his side. He kicked his shoes off and curled into the blanket with a miserable cough.

"Fuck my life…"

He heard footsteps approaching and cracked his eyes back open. Shaun was approaching him with a bowl of soup in one hand, a box of tissues in the other.

"That was fast…"

"Microwaves are a beautiful thing, Desmond, as are can openers. Now eat."

The soup smelled good… but the thought of having to eat just wasn't appealing, "Do I have to…?"

"Yes."

"… But I don't wanna."

"… Either you do it, or I do it for you."

With a reluctant sigh, Desmond took the bowl from the Brit's hand and sipped it straight from the bowl. For canned soup, it was pretty good and the warmth soothed his throat and warmed him from the inside. However, he was only able to eat half of it, but that didn't stop him from cupping the warm bowl in his hands, enjoying the warmth.

Shaun sighed when he realized he wasn't going to eat anymore, "D'you need anything else…?"

"Sleep… and a shotgun to kill whatever's poking around in my head…"

Shaun smirked and took the bowl from Desmond's hands, "Then sleep. I'll be near if you need me…" he didn't hear any footsteps behind him, so he leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, making the soon-to-be assassin crack a small smile.

He silently wished him a swift recovery as he flopped back over.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Two days later still had Desmond curled up in a ball of misery and tissues in bed, this time with more coughing and sneezing. Naturally, their work in the Animus had come to a screeching halt, since their subject was in no condition to enter it. There was frustration all around, mainly from Desmond himself. Just the mere fact that he had caught such a stupid thing like a cold pissed him off to no end. It did more than just piss him off when he thought of the time he was wasting wallowing around and trying to recover.

He'd actually tried to be a stubborn ass and get into the Animus barely even a day ago, guilty from having done nothing the whole day except lay around and drink orange juice. He had talked them into it against their better judgement, but he hadn't been able to synchronize right at all.

So now, it was back to emptying another box of tissues for him.

Desmond vaguely registered footsteps approaching the side of his bed, and he peeked out from underneath his pillow to see Rebecca standing there, "What?" he croaked.

"Wow, someone's cranky… I just wanted to check on you!"

"I feel like shit… go away now, please…"

Just as he was about to attempt to sleep more, Rebecca shrugged and said nonchalantly, "Ya know, I heard that a cold goes away faster if you give it to someone else."

He shot up just as she walked off.

Was it true…?

At this point he was willing to believe anything!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was later in the evening that Shaun came and sat next to Desmond's half-asleep form. The sudden weight on the bed and the hand caressing his short hair brought him into full awareness. He had formulated a plan… To anyone else, it was half-baked and utterly stupid, but to Desmond, it was worth it.

With unfeigned sleepiness and only partially feigned coyness, Desmond shifted to be able to wrap his arms around Shaun's waist, nuzzling his face into the other man's stomach and settling comfortably in his lap. This earned a slightly startled chuckle from the Brit, "What's got you all clingy…?"

"Had a weird dream…" he lied, "Kinda freaked me out."

Shaun could only roll his eyes, "Scared of a nightmare? Good lord, Desmond…" Of course, as he said this, he continued to pet and lightly massage Desmond's hair, "What are you, four?"

Desmond actually laughed, causing him to cough hastily into his sleeve, "Guess so…"

He only had to set his plan in motion now…

Desmond sat up, shifting closer and putting his head on Shaun's shoulder, letting out a content sigh. The other man didn't seem to mind as he wrapped an arm around the sick assassin and pressed his lips to his hair. For a moment, Desmond almost felt bad for what he was about to do.

Almost.

He tilted his face up and attempted to kiss Shaun. Of course, the Brit reacted predictably, grabbing Desmond's face and holding him at a distance, "What the hell are you doing?"

Desmond pouted, "I just wanted a kiss…"

"Hell no, you're sick."

"Aw, c'mon, just one little kiss!" he tried again, but was held at arm's length.

"Dammit, Desmond, no!"

In a moment they were grappling, Shaun barely managed to avoid Desmond's attempts at 'intimacy' while still holding him at arm's length. They ended up falling off the bed to the floor. Desmond was basically leaning over Shaun, hands trying to tug his face towards his puckered lips. Shaun was nearly strangling him, trying to get away.

The Brit sputtered, "What the hell is your problem, Des?!"

The accidental pressure put on Desmond's windpipe made him cough, "Nothing, you're just bein' stubborn!"

"Dear God, you are insufferable! Fine. One kiss, and if I get sick I am going to beat you so hard Ezio will feel it!"

The grin on Desmond's face was all too gleeful for Shaun's liking, but he ignored it as Desmond leaned in and kissed him warmly. Shaun couldn't help the blush that crept up his neck to his ears. He pushed the ill man away after a few seconds, "Feeling better now?" he asked acidly.

The assassin-in-training still had that gleeful grin in place, "Much better." He hugged Shaun again and got a pinch to his ear in return, "O-Ow!"

Shaun stood, taking Desmond with him, and pushed him onto the bed crankily, "Now sleep."

He turned and stalked back to his computer, hearing the sound of Desmond settling back down.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Barely even four days later found the two men with reversed roles. Shaun was coughing and sneezing like no tomorrow, while Desmond brought him tissues and liquids. The situation had Shaun in a state of sullen annoyance.

"I told you I'd end up getting sick," he rasped at Desmond.

Desmond tried so hard to not crack a smile, but one appeared anyway. He hoped it looked apologetic as he set down a cup of tea for the historian, "Sorry…"

That drew a sarcastic cough, "I doubt that," he picked up the tea and sipped at it, sighing as it eased some of his throat's agony.

The historian kept giving Desmond cranky glares, so he decided it was best to leave him be. Maybe find some food for him and Shaun…

On his way to the small kitchen, he ran into Rebecca, "Hey, Desmond, is Shaun alright?"

"Yeah, he'll be okay; he caught a cold, too."

Rebecca looked thoughtful, "Huh, must be going around, then…"

Desmond smiled a bit lopsidedly, "Yeah, I guess… Oh, by the way, thanks for the advice the other day."

He walked past her, not noticing her puzzled face.

"…what advice?"