Doug and Angie: Cure for the common cold?
Oct. 31st, 2006 01:42 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsMarie-Ange is sick with a fever, and Doug makes her take the day off. He makes her soup and watches a movie with her. In between there is a whole lot of awkward and tentative.
Marie-Ange huddled at her desk, hands tucked into the sleeves of her heaviest sweater, and still shivering. She'd checked the thermostat in her office twice now, and it still said almost seventy degrees. Regardless, she was freezing, hands and feet tingly and cold.
There was no point in concentrating, really, except that she had work she needed to get done. Not that she could remember what it really was, except that Betsy had dropped a small mountain of papers in her inbox, and she thought that sorting through them was a good idea.
She had started this twice, and gotten nowhere. The chills made it hard to concentrate, and when she wasn't shivering violently, she was sneezing, sometimes four or five sneezes in a row. Reaching for the mug of tea - the fourth she'd had since arriving in her office, the barrage of sneezes started again, and she grabbed for another handful of tissues.
She wasn't getting -anything- done at this rate.
Doug had heard the sneezing and sniffling and coughing all morning from down the hall. He'd seen Angie cross to the kitchenette to make tea, and seen the barely controlled shivering and chills she'd been struggling with. Finally, he came to a decision and quietly closed down his workstation. He certainly wasn't going to get much done constantly checking on her. Walking down the hall to her desk, he picked up the mug and box of tissues. "C'mon," he said in a tone that brooked no opposition. "You're taking the day off. Trying to work like this is just going to make things worse."
Marie-Ange looked up, a little startled at Doug's somewhat sudden appearance in her office. How did he -do- that, where he would just appear out of nowhere? "I have work I need to do.." She protested weakly. "If I could remember what I had wanted to do..."
"If you can't remember what you were needing to do, then you need to not be working," Doug said gently, but with a core of steel under it. "Come on. I'll take you back to your apartment and make you some soup." He chivvied Marie-Ange to a standing position and ushered her out of the office. "I'll tell Remy you're taking a sick day." He put the back of his hand to her forehead briefly. "You're burning up, Angie."
Marie-Ange shook her head, and then clutched at it, groaning. "Remind me not to move my head anymore today." She whimpered. "And never to go to Russia ever again." She leaned against Doug for a moment, and then pulled back awkwardly. "No more Russia for me, ever."
Doug swallowed heavily while Marie-Ange was looking away from him. The press of her body against his...he'd forgotten how much he missed the intimacy of a simple touch. "I'm thinking not," he replied. "I hope you and Amanda were the only ones who got sick in Russia, and this isn't some crazy Russian virus or something. The rest of us came back just fine, minus the assorted bumps and bruises from fisticuffs with overgrown flesh computer drones." He shivered momentarily in remembrance.
"Can we not talk about the fleshy computers please?" Marie-Ange whimpered. "I have so far managed not to be sick to my stomach and I would like to avoid it today. I threw up enough in Russia for the next decade."
"You can say that again," Doug said emphatically. "I microwaved half of my anime collection because I'll never be able to watch it again." He shivered and made a disgusted noise in remembrance. Holding the box of tissues under his arm, he placed the hand not carrying her mug tentatively at the small of her back to help steer and support her. He bit his lip unobtrusively, trying his best not to show how the awareness of her warm skin was affecting him, even through several layers of clothing.
"If I ask for my laptop, I suppose you are going to tell me no and make it so I cannot get on the networks?" Marie-Ange asked, as they made their way towards her apartment. "Because I could work from my apartment, on the sofa... " Not that she thought she would get much done, but it was a conceit towards trying to be productive.
Doug leveled a stern look at Marie-Ange. "The only thing you are doing on your couch is curling up under a blanket, having some soup, maybe watching a movie, and taking a nap to sleep off whatever it is you got in Russia."
"That is what I thought you would say." Marie-Ange said tiredly. "Can I have toast? Or those little fish crackers?" She leaned towards Doug for a moment, as if to rest her head in his shoulder, and then shook herself with a little frown. "Tomato soup and those little fish cheese crackers would be good. I like those very much."
The way Marie-Ange had leaned in toward him caused Doug's breath to catch in his throat, and he exhaled in something that was almost a sigh when she shook herself away. "You may absolutely have Goldfish with tomato soup," he said with a smile that was struggling to be casual and natural. "Goldfish are an essential part of having soup when you're sick. I always had Goldfish swimming in the chicken soup my mom would make for me when I got sick as a kid."
Marie-Ange didn't bother fumbling with her keys, she just handed them to Doug, with a slightly pleading look on her face that said "I'm freezing, I have the shivers, and I'm likely to stab myself with these if you don't take them from me.". "I do not think we had them growing up, but I still like them. Tiny cheese fish are funny, and taste good in my soup."
Doug managed not to fumble Marie-Ange's keys as they were passed, and let the pair into her apartment. "I love the fishes cuz they're so delicious..." Doug sang under his breath as he headed toward the kitchen area of the apartment. "I'll make soup. You go lay down on the couch," he instructed.
Marie-Ange dropped gracelessly onto her sofa, pulling a fluffy green blanket up around her. "That is a funny song..." she said, with a tired laugh. "I actually have soup! In the cabinet over my sink." She said. "I remembered to go grocery shopping without having to resort to eating out four times in a week first!"
Doug clapped slowly and ironically. "You are the only person I know who doesn't use their kitchen for, y'know, cooking," he said wryly, opening the cupboard to get the aforementioned soup. "Do you have Goldfish, too, or do I need to run down to my apartment really quickly?"
"I am not sure?" Marie-Ange said. "I had some, but I think they may be in my office." She blushed, and then looked down at her feet, making a point out of taking off her shoes. "They are a good snack for when I work too much. And I can throw them at Mark."
"I occasionally use them for that myself," Doug admitted. "Aha!" he exclaimed reaching far back in the pantry to extricate a package of Goldfish. "Found 'em."
"Which? Eating when you work too much, or throwing at Mark?" Marie-Ange asked, yawning a little. "They bounce off his head." She giggled again. "Ooh, I think I need to stop laughing. It makes my head hurt.." She whimpered.
"A little of both," Doug admitted. "Not so much Mark as whoever's in range," he added. He spent a quiet few minutes warming the soup, then ladled it into a bowl, placing it with the package of Goldfish and a bottle of water on a tray. Setting the tray on Marie-Ange's coffee table near where she lay on the couch, he moved quickly into the bathroom to fetch a bottle of aspirin from her medicine cabinet. Shaking a few into his hand, he offered them to her. "Anything else I can get you?" he asked quietly.
"Not unless you have a doctor hidden in your pockets.." Marie-Ange said quietly. "I think I just need to rest. I hope." She had no idea what something like pnumonia would feel like, she just felt like she had a cold, or the flu. "And hope that no one really needs me for anything before I feel better."
"Like I said. I'll make sure Remy knows you're sick. Anything super-urgent will just have to be taken care of by someone else." He waved at the tray of food. "Do you feel up to eating, or would you rather I let you get some rest?"
"I think I can eat." Marie-Ange said, settling the tray on her lap carefully. "And maybe a nap later, but I think I will keep waking myself up with the sneezing if I try to have a nap now." She glanced over at the remote control to her television. "Perhaps I will watch a movie, and have a couch vegetable afternoon.." she said tenuously.
"Potato, Angie, couch -potato-," Doug replied with a chuckle at the slightly messed up slang expression. He fidgeted for a moment, then looked down at her from where he stood near the couch, not sure what to do with himself. "Um, should I..." he made a motion towards the door.
"I could not remember which vegetable.." Marie-Ange protested. "I think I feel more like a celery than a potato. I do not feel very starcy.." She frowned, and sighed a little. "If.. you want to stay for a bit, that would be fine." To be honest, she wasn't sure she wanted to be alone, exactly. "I was going to watch a movie. I rented too many from my movie night and did not get to watch all of them."
"Okay, I could stay..." Doug agreed hesitantly. He crossed over to the stack of DVDs next to Marie-Ange's TV. "What do you feel like watching?"
"I am not sure.." Marie-Ange said. "I have a lot of movies. I have some of those muppet movies, and I have some of my movies. Pick one, perhaps? And if I hate it I will tell you..."
"Gee, no pressure," Doug muttered under his breath. Taking a case at random from the stack, he put it in the player. He picked up the remote and went to sit in one of the chairs. "Muppet Treasure Island," he announced when the splash screen came up. "That okay?"
"Muppet pirates..." Marie-Ange questioned. "Is the Remy-muppet in this one?" She giggled to herself, and dunked a few goldfish crackers in her soup, watching the opening song to the movie. "This is fine. I like muppet movies." Especally when she was tired and sick and feeling overworked. Something a little silly to distract her from the giant flesh robot was good.
The pair sat through the entire movie, occasionally throwing Goldfish at the screen during the very silly parts. Doug found himself enjoying the movie and remembering why he had dated Marie-Ange. It felt...comfortable.
When the movie ended, Doug looked over to where Marie-Ange was dozing on the couch and smiled to himself. He quietly got up and turned the TV off, and then took the tray and dishes into the kitchen. Coming back to the couch, his face softened and he tenderly brushed her hair out of her face and pulled the afghan up under her chin. He sighed wistfully and dimmed the lights on his way out the door.
Marie-Ange huddled at her desk, hands tucked into the sleeves of her heaviest sweater, and still shivering. She'd checked the thermostat in her office twice now, and it still said almost seventy degrees. Regardless, she was freezing, hands and feet tingly and cold.
There was no point in concentrating, really, except that she had work she needed to get done. Not that she could remember what it really was, except that Betsy had dropped a small mountain of papers in her inbox, and she thought that sorting through them was a good idea.
She had started this twice, and gotten nowhere. The chills made it hard to concentrate, and when she wasn't shivering violently, she was sneezing, sometimes four or five sneezes in a row. Reaching for the mug of tea - the fourth she'd had since arriving in her office, the barrage of sneezes started again, and she grabbed for another handful of tissues.
She wasn't getting -anything- done at this rate.
Doug had heard the sneezing and sniffling and coughing all morning from down the hall. He'd seen Angie cross to the kitchenette to make tea, and seen the barely controlled shivering and chills she'd been struggling with. Finally, he came to a decision and quietly closed down his workstation. He certainly wasn't going to get much done constantly checking on her. Walking down the hall to her desk, he picked up the mug and box of tissues. "C'mon," he said in a tone that brooked no opposition. "You're taking the day off. Trying to work like this is just going to make things worse."
Marie-Ange looked up, a little startled at Doug's somewhat sudden appearance in her office. How did he -do- that, where he would just appear out of nowhere? "I have work I need to do.." She protested weakly. "If I could remember what I had wanted to do..."
"If you can't remember what you were needing to do, then you need to not be working," Doug said gently, but with a core of steel under it. "Come on. I'll take you back to your apartment and make you some soup." He chivvied Marie-Ange to a standing position and ushered her out of the office. "I'll tell Remy you're taking a sick day." He put the back of his hand to her forehead briefly. "You're burning up, Angie."
Marie-Ange shook her head, and then clutched at it, groaning. "Remind me not to move my head anymore today." She whimpered. "And never to go to Russia ever again." She leaned against Doug for a moment, and then pulled back awkwardly. "No more Russia for me, ever."
Doug swallowed heavily while Marie-Ange was looking away from him. The press of her body against his...he'd forgotten how much he missed the intimacy of a simple touch. "I'm thinking not," he replied. "I hope you and Amanda were the only ones who got sick in Russia, and this isn't some crazy Russian virus or something. The rest of us came back just fine, minus the assorted bumps and bruises from fisticuffs with overgrown flesh computer drones." He shivered momentarily in remembrance.
"Can we not talk about the fleshy computers please?" Marie-Ange whimpered. "I have so far managed not to be sick to my stomach and I would like to avoid it today. I threw up enough in Russia for the next decade."
"You can say that again," Doug said emphatically. "I microwaved half of my anime collection because I'll never be able to watch it again." He shivered and made a disgusted noise in remembrance. Holding the box of tissues under his arm, he placed the hand not carrying her mug tentatively at the small of her back to help steer and support her. He bit his lip unobtrusively, trying his best not to show how the awareness of her warm skin was affecting him, even through several layers of clothing.
"If I ask for my laptop, I suppose you are going to tell me no and make it so I cannot get on the networks?" Marie-Ange asked, as they made their way towards her apartment. "Because I could work from my apartment, on the sofa... " Not that she thought she would get much done, but it was a conceit towards trying to be productive.
Doug leveled a stern look at Marie-Ange. "The only thing you are doing on your couch is curling up under a blanket, having some soup, maybe watching a movie, and taking a nap to sleep off whatever it is you got in Russia."
"That is what I thought you would say." Marie-Ange said tiredly. "Can I have toast? Or those little fish crackers?" She leaned towards Doug for a moment, as if to rest her head in his shoulder, and then shook herself with a little frown. "Tomato soup and those little fish cheese crackers would be good. I like those very much."
The way Marie-Ange had leaned in toward him caused Doug's breath to catch in his throat, and he exhaled in something that was almost a sigh when she shook herself away. "You may absolutely have Goldfish with tomato soup," he said with a smile that was struggling to be casual and natural. "Goldfish are an essential part of having soup when you're sick. I always had Goldfish swimming in the chicken soup my mom would make for me when I got sick as a kid."
Marie-Ange didn't bother fumbling with her keys, she just handed them to Doug, with a slightly pleading look on her face that said "I'm freezing, I have the shivers, and I'm likely to stab myself with these if you don't take them from me.". "I do not think we had them growing up, but I still like them. Tiny cheese fish are funny, and taste good in my soup."
Doug managed not to fumble Marie-Ange's keys as they were passed, and let the pair into her apartment. "I love the fishes cuz they're so delicious..." Doug sang under his breath as he headed toward the kitchen area of the apartment. "I'll make soup. You go lay down on the couch," he instructed.
Marie-Ange dropped gracelessly onto her sofa, pulling a fluffy green blanket up around her. "That is a funny song..." she said, with a tired laugh. "I actually have soup! In the cabinet over my sink." She said. "I remembered to go grocery shopping without having to resort to eating out four times in a week first!"
Doug clapped slowly and ironically. "You are the only person I know who doesn't use their kitchen for, y'know, cooking," he said wryly, opening the cupboard to get the aforementioned soup. "Do you have Goldfish, too, or do I need to run down to my apartment really quickly?"
"I am not sure?" Marie-Ange said. "I had some, but I think they may be in my office." She blushed, and then looked down at her feet, making a point out of taking off her shoes. "They are a good snack for when I work too much. And I can throw them at Mark."
"I occasionally use them for that myself," Doug admitted. "Aha!" he exclaimed reaching far back in the pantry to extricate a package of Goldfish. "Found 'em."
"Which? Eating when you work too much, or throwing at Mark?" Marie-Ange asked, yawning a little. "They bounce off his head." She giggled again. "Ooh, I think I need to stop laughing. It makes my head hurt.." She whimpered.
"A little of both," Doug admitted. "Not so much Mark as whoever's in range," he added. He spent a quiet few minutes warming the soup, then ladled it into a bowl, placing it with the package of Goldfish and a bottle of water on a tray. Setting the tray on Marie-Ange's coffee table near where she lay on the couch, he moved quickly into the bathroom to fetch a bottle of aspirin from her medicine cabinet. Shaking a few into his hand, he offered them to her. "Anything else I can get you?" he asked quietly.
"Not unless you have a doctor hidden in your pockets.." Marie-Ange said quietly. "I think I just need to rest. I hope." She had no idea what something like pnumonia would feel like, she just felt like she had a cold, or the flu. "And hope that no one really needs me for anything before I feel better."
"Like I said. I'll make sure Remy knows you're sick. Anything super-urgent will just have to be taken care of by someone else." He waved at the tray of food. "Do you feel up to eating, or would you rather I let you get some rest?"
"I think I can eat." Marie-Ange said, settling the tray on her lap carefully. "And maybe a nap later, but I think I will keep waking myself up with the sneezing if I try to have a nap now." She glanced over at the remote control to her television. "Perhaps I will watch a movie, and have a couch vegetable afternoon.." she said tenuously.
"Potato, Angie, couch -potato-," Doug replied with a chuckle at the slightly messed up slang expression. He fidgeted for a moment, then looked down at her from where he stood near the couch, not sure what to do with himself. "Um, should I..." he made a motion towards the door.
"I could not remember which vegetable.." Marie-Ange protested. "I think I feel more like a celery than a potato. I do not feel very starcy.." She frowned, and sighed a little. "If.. you want to stay for a bit, that would be fine." To be honest, she wasn't sure she wanted to be alone, exactly. "I was going to watch a movie. I rented too many from my movie night and did not get to watch all of them."
"Okay, I could stay..." Doug agreed hesitantly. He crossed over to the stack of DVDs next to Marie-Ange's TV. "What do you feel like watching?"
"I am not sure.." Marie-Ange said. "I have a lot of movies. I have some of those muppet movies, and I have some of my movies. Pick one, perhaps? And if I hate it I will tell you..."
"Gee, no pressure," Doug muttered under his breath. Taking a case at random from the stack, he put it in the player. He picked up the remote and went to sit in one of the chairs. "Muppet Treasure Island," he announced when the splash screen came up. "That okay?"
"Muppet pirates..." Marie-Ange questioned. "Is the Remy-muppet in this one?" She giggled to herself, and dunked a few goldfish crackers in her soup, watching the opening song to the movie. "This is fine. I like muppet movies." Especally when she was tired and sick and feeling overworked. Something a little silly to distract her from the giant flesh robot was good.
The pair sat through the entire movie, occasionally throwing Goldfish at the screen during the very silly parts. Doug found himself enjoying the movie and remembering why he had dated Marie-Ange. It felt...comfortable.
When the movie ended, Doug looked over to where Marie-Ange was dozing on the couch and smiled to himself. He quietly got up and turned the TV off, and then took the tray and dishes into the kitchen. Coming back to the couch, his face softened and he tenderly brushed her hair out of her face and pulled the afghan up under her chin. He sighed wistfully and dimmed the lights on his way out the door.
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Date: 2006-10-31 06:33 am (UTC)*phbbts* Love you too. Although I got sick on the plane on the way back, so it probably doesn't count...
OOC: Gee, you go back to your home country for a week and people forget you. ;P
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Date: 2006-10-31 02:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-31 05:21 pm (UTC)With our hearts unbound and our flag unfurled, we're underway and off to see the world!
Hey, ho, we'll go anywhere the wind is blowing.
Bold and brave and freeee... Sailing for adventure on the deep blue sea!
Dude. Totally Snow Valley's theme song.