"Mmf...no..." came the muffled reply. "G'way..."

Quatre sighed sadly and walked in, softly closing the door behind himself. "It's six...you said to wake you now."

"I was a fool," Wufei grumbled. He didn't bother turning beneath his blankets or even opening his eyes.

"I brought soup."

The lump of blankets shifted slightly. "You did?"

"Mm-hmm..." Balancing his tray so the pills on it wouldn't roll around, he stepped around the bed and set the tray on the nightstand. He could just barely see Wufei's closed eyes and unbound hair protrude from under the blankets. "You sound better."

"After three days, I should," Wufei complained. "I hate being sick."

"No one likes it," Quatre smiled, stroking his lover's dark hair. "Of course, you don't have to be this miserable."

"Quatre..." Wufei warned, knowing exactly where this was going.

"Please, Wufei, just one Nyquil," Quatre practically begged. "It'll make you feel a lot better and let you sleep for awhile."

Wufei would have turned on his side but felt that was far too much trouble. "I don't trust Western medicine--" he abruptly launched into a coughing fit that lasted half a minute. He groaned and tried to bury himself back in bed.

Light poured in from the hall again as someone else entered the room. "I take it our little patient is being stubborn about pills again," Trowa leaned against the doorframe, arms folded.

Quatre gave Trowa a lopsided smile. "I'm afraid so."

"Wufei, just take the pills."

The Chinese boy muttered some incoherent curse and turned his face towards the pillow. "You shouldn't scold someone when they're sick," he snapped.

Quatre rolled his eyes. Wufei was such a trying patient sometimes. Trowa didn't say anything, instead quietly walking towards Quatre and picking up the two blue pills. He popped them in half and let the liquid inside drip into the soup. The little blonde was about to gasp out a startled protest until Trowa gave him a look that told him to hush.

"All right," Trowa said calmly, "you don't have to take them."

Wufei cracked one eye open. "No?" He watched Trowa pocket the two capsules, then sat up with a moan. Quatre reached out and put his hands around him, holding him steady and pulling the pillow up. Wufei had to use him for support as he scooted back far enough to lean against his pillow. The feathers stuffed in the bedding certainly kept him warm, but it was hard maneuvering on such soft material.

"I'm afraid I'll need your nurse for awhile," Trowa said softly, a tiny gleam in his eye. "But I'll bring him back in an hour or so."

"Very funny," Wufei said, giving him a sarcastic little smile, but there was no real ill will in his voice. He watched as Trowa herded Quatre out, certain that they were just granting him some respite from the blonde's attentions. Not that they were unwanted, but his affections could be smothering at times. He picked up the small bowl of soup and started to eat, careful he didn't swallow too much for his poor throat to handle. Odd, he thought, there's a strange aftertaste to this...Quatre really needs to ease up on the salt.

Outside, Trowa hauled Quatre over his shoulder and carried him out of Wufei's hearing range before setting him back down. Once back on his feet, Quatre pouted furiously.

"Trowa, how could you do that?!" he said in a harsh whisper. "Wufei would be so upset if he knew--!"

"But he doesn't," Trowa said, shaking his head. "And we both know he needs some relief, yes?"

The anger left Quatre, but the pout grew worse. "Yes," he said reluctantly. He bit his lip in anxiety. "But...to do it so underhandedly..."

Trowa favored him with a rare smile. "I know...he'll be fine, you know that. And he'll finally be able to get some sleep."

Quatre nodded with a sigh. "Well...he does tend to get so cranky when he's sick...I guess it's really for his own good."

Trowa gave him a soft kiss. "I'll calm him down if he finds out," he promised.

Quatre grinned and hugged him. "Okay, then!"

*****

Two days later, Wufei sat in the morning room, a small book in hand. It was his favorite room, full of tall windows that allowed every bit of available sunlight in, warming him up considerably. That in itself was nice, since the mornings here were usually so cold, and he woke up earlier than his two loves.

"Ah-choo!"

Wufei's head snapped up, and he glanced at the door. "Quatre?" he asked aloud, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him. Coming up the hall, he heard slow, shuffling footsteps until Quatre appeared at the door, a large blanket wrapped around his shoulders and nearly dwarfing him in it. Bunny slippers covered his feet, threatening to make him slip and stumble on the hard wood floor. Dark circles underlined his eyes, and he visibly shivered, even under all those yards of cloth.

"Hi, Wufei," he mustered up a weary smile. "Wow, it really is cozy in here."

Wufei stood up and rushed to his lover's side, ignoring the little aches still stabbing at him. "Oh, Quatre, you caught this from me, didn't you?"

Quatre just sighed and leaned into Wufei's embrace. "I'm afraid so," he answered, coughing between words. "I don't think I have it as bad as you did. I was just going to get some Nyquil--" he sneezed again, "--and get back to sleep. Just wish it wasn't so cold now...mmm, you're warm..."

Wufei bent and scooped Quatre into his arms, carrying him to the long couch partially in the shade. "No, I think you'd best lay down here. I'll get what you want."

"But...you're still kind of sick--" Quatre started as he was set down.

"I'm almost over it," Wufei said, shaking his head. "Now hush. I'll find what you want out of the medicine cabinet and bring it over."

Quatre started to giggle.

Wufei narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What's so funny?"

Quatre grinned. "You are. Such a grouchy patient, but you're the sweetest nurse..."

Wufei merely let the comment slide and headed to the bathroom, leaving only long enough to fetch the dreaded pills his lover wanted so much. He read over the ingredients and instructions warily, disdainful of the warnings on the side. "How you can want this so much...?" he wondered, coming back in. "I cannot even pronounce some of these things..."

"But it works," Quatre said firmly. "Two pills, please."

Wufei popped the gelcaps out of their sterilized plastic seal and placed them in Quatre's smaller hand. "Do you want some tea?" he asked, offering him his glass. Quatre took it gratefully to help swallow the pills. Once he retrieved his book, Wufei joined him at the couch, slipping behind him and acting as a large, heated cushion against the cooler fabric. Quatre sighed happily and eased out, resting his head on Wufei's shoulder.

"What are you reading?" he whispered, finding no title on the cover.

"Poetry by a man called Yeats," Wufei answered. "Rashid recommended him to me."

"You've never read him before?" Quatre asked. "His work is famous."

"But not necessarily required by my previous education," Wufei countered. "I'm afraid my studies were rather Sinocentric. Still, he is rather good."

"Will you read me one?"

Wufei scanned the ones he'd already read and picked one out. "Stolen Child. Where dips the rocky highland of sleuth wood in the lake, there lies a leafy island where flapping herons wake the drowsy water rats, there we've hid our fairy vats full of berries and of reddest stolen cherries. Come away oh human child to the waters and the wild, with a faery hand in hand for the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. Where the wave of moonlight glosses the dim grey sands with light by far off furthest rosses we foot it all the night, weaving olden dances, mingling hands and mingling glances, till the moon has taken flight..." he paused as he noticed Quatre's breathing had turned steady and deep. A quick glance assured him he was asleep, but he continued to read, just in case it kept any nightmares away.

Half an hour later, Trowa silently came in and found his two lovers fast asleep on the couch, Quatre snuggled comfortably against Wufei and the Chinese pilot stretched out, one arm over Quatre and the other trailing on the floor, a book in his slack grip. Trowa smiled and gently took the poetry from Wufei's hand, sitting down in the chair beside them. One hand idly caressing the sleeping pair, the other hand held the book open so he could read.

*****

A week later, Quatre hurried into the kitchen, one hand holding an empty tea glass. "Is the soup almost done yet?"

Wufei, perched comfortably on the counter, stirred the chicken soup a bit more and took a taste. "Just about. Hand me a bowl, please."

Quatre nodded and set the glass in the sink, retrieving a small bowl from the cabinet. "Not too much, his throat's really bad."

"I'll just give him a few noodles, then," Wufei nodded, ladling the steaming liquid from the pot. He gazed meaningfully at Quatre. "You could do with some yourself. You're still not entirely over that cold."

Quatre flashed him a quick grin. "Neither are you, silly. Come on, you know how stubborn he gets over his medicine."

Wufei smirked but held his peace as he followed behind him, making sure he didn't slide in his bunny slippers. As Quatre stepped on the hallway rug, his balance shifted to the left and he overcompensated, toppling to the right. Wufei darted forward and grabbed him, but they both continued sideways into bedroom, Quatre on top of Wufei, who landed with an audible "oof!"

Pained laughter came from inside the dark room. "At least wait until you get into bed to play games," Trowa groaned, rubbing his throat as he spoke,

"I never thought I'd say this," Quatre sighed, "but Trowa, don't talk. You'll lose your voice."

Wufei snorted, still trapped under the Arabian. "And it's hard enough hearing you say something as it is."

Trowa sighed as they struggled to get back on their feet. "Is any of the soup left?" he whispered. "Or is it all over Wufei now?" He licked his lips with a smirk.

"No, you don't get to lick me off," Wufei snapped, the fall not helping his humor. Then he smiled a little. "At least, not now."

"It's still all here!" Quatre proclaimed, quite proud of himself as he held up the soup that had miraculously not sloshed over. While he walked around to get close to Trowa, Wufei climbed right into bed and slid up against Trowa, removing his shirt as he did. The tall pilot eagerly leaned back against Wufei, soaking in his warmth.

"You're freezing, Trowa," Wufei sighed. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Thought I'm supposed to stay quiet."

Quatre just shook his head and quickly turned the thermostat up. He had to help Trowa hold the bowl steady as he took tiny sips, grimacing with each swallow. Wufei wished he could do something to it easier for him, and at that moment his gaze landed on the pills on the nightstand, still wrapped up in plastic.

"Trowa, why haven't you taken those yet?" he asked.

Trowa ducked his head like a naughty child who's just been caught. "Oh...um...can't swallow..."

Quatre racked his brain to find a decent solution. "I guess I could go out and get some liquid medication..." he mused, wondering where the nearest shop was. "Rashid could probably get some, I'm sure he knows where to pick it up."

"Don't bother," Wufei said, taking the pills and pulling them out. Just as Trowa was about to feebly protest, Wufei cracked the pills over the soup, spilling the medicine in. Quatre lowered his eyes when he saw that, and Trowa blushed slightly.

"I believe this is best for stubborn, grouchy patients," Wufei smirked.

"Um...you're not upset?" Quatre asked.

Wufei shrugged. "Only that you didn't warn me. But, I suppose I was being...stubborn."

"So...all is forgiven?" Trowa asked.

Wufei yawned and nuzzled against him. "Oh, you don't get off that easily, but I can't punish you when you're so sick. That will have to wait until we're all back in decent health again."

Both Trowa and Quatre smiled in anticipation.

"Trowa," the blonde said firmly, "get well soon."

The End