Orthomyxoviridae 2: The Adventures Continue

Disclaimer: I don't own MAoS or The Hobbit, but I wish I did!
Rating: K+
Pairings: Just the team being a family
Summary: Or: Vaccines are still A Good Idea
Author's note: Very loose sequel to Adventures in Orthomyxoviridae (Or: Vaccines are A Good Idea). You don't have to read one to understand the other, so long as you know the Avengers got the flu and Fury was displeased.

Because Fury insists, mandatory flu shots are added to the list of general vaccinations and such that SHIELD attacks its agents with every year. Unfortunately, the process of actually getting the flu shot out to every single SHIELD base is somewhat less than efficient.

Especially when it comes to mobile SHIELD bases like the BUS.

Simmons gets it first, though nobody notices. She quietly requests that May turn up the heat a little and quietly steals one of Fitz's warmest sweaters, but quietly continues working. Really it's the quiet that should've been a warning sign, as Simmons' default mode is chatty, but everyone else is too busy getting sick to notice.

Skye sneezes through a training session, coughs through dinner, and sleeps through her pick on movie night before she'll admit to being sick. She learned a long time ago in the series of orphanages she grew up in that being sick got you no sympathy, no release from chores, no extra food. She was lucky to get medication, and even then she had to have a fever.

"Go to bed, Skye," Ward says at the tenth sneeze.

"Go to bed, Skye!" Fitz insists at the fourth cough.

"Come on, Skye. Into bed," Coulson says softly as he pulls her up from the couch. "Ward is making you some tea and Simmons should be up with some medicine shortly."

"What?" Skye asks, not sure if she's hallucinating from the fever.

"Bed, tea, and medicine," Coulson repeats. "Best cure for the flu. Maybe tomorrow, we'll be able to manage some soup."

"Why?"

He looks a bit startled at the question. "Because you're sick, Skye." He smiles a little. "SHIELD takes care of its own. More importantly, we take care of our own."

Fitz is extremely verbose about how much he detests getting sick, making up for his better half's persistent quiet. He doesn't go so far as to wear a mask around Skye, but it's clear he wants to. The second he sneezes, he's whining about being unable to breathe. The second he coughs, he's whining about dying.

"I'm dying, Simmons," he says.

"Fitz doesn't take well to being ill," Simmons says to Coulson as a shiver runs through her body. "He never has. Gets a cold and figures it's the bubonic plague."

"Are you alright, Simmons?" Coulson asks, frowning.

"I'm fine, sir. Really," she says with a wan smile. "Fitz just tires me out when he's ill. I'll double the dosage on my flu medication, no worries."

"Well, keep an eye on yourself. We need our biochemist healthy," Coulson says, smiling back.

They wouldn't have known May was sick at all but for the fact that she locks herself in the cockpit and refuses to come out. Her voice sounds fairly congested when she calls that she's fine. No one really wants to disagree with the Cavalry, of all people, so Coulson hides medication in the tea he leaves outside the door twice a day.

Ward is last. He's proud of his strong immune system, right up until he starts sneezing and his temperature starts to rise.

"Sweating out a fever is a myth, you know," Simmons mumbles from where she's sitting on a stool in the lab, propping her head up on her arm as she watches him attack the punching bag. "You're just raising your body temperature more."

"It's worked before," he grunts. "Makes me better faster."

Through all the punching he's doing, he almost misses the louder thud that is Simmons sliding off her stool and crashing to the floor.

"Dammit, Simmons," he curses, hurrying over to her side and feeling her forehead. He's got a fever, but he's pretty sure hers is higher, because she feels hot even to him. "Coulson! Emergency!"

"Dammit, Simmons," Coulson agrees. They've all gathered around her still unconscious form; Skye, who's mostly feeling better; Fitz, who decides he wasn't really that sick in the first place; and May, who's doing well with the medication. "Hundred four point three. Fitz, see if she's got any more of that medication she's been making. Skye, get some cool water and cloths; we have to get her fever down. Ward, help me get her to bed; we'll put her in mine, there's more room. May, find the nearest SHIELD base, just in case she gets worse."

They take it in turns, all except the currently ill Ward, to sit with Simmons and run the cool cloths across her face and neck and arms in an effort to bring her fever down to a less dangerous level. A secondary, though no less important job, is soothing her delusional fears that someone has died, that she's still falling, that they've crashed

"You're such an idiot, Jemma," Fitz mutters to her when he takes his turn. "Next time you're ill, tell someone. Tell me, yeah? Don't let it get so bad. Taking care of yourself is just as important as mixing up medications to take care of the rest of us."

"Leo," she murmurs, trying to push him away with a trembling hand. "Cold."

"No, too hot," he says. "This isn't half so bad as that time you were in hospital, is it? Lukewarm baths and the like. At least it's not pneumonia this time, Jemma."

Skye scolds Simmons into crying and feels guilty afterwards. "I'm sorry, Simmons," she whispers, stroking the other girl's hair. "I don't know how to deal with this. You scared me. You scared all of us. Well, maybe not Ward. I'm pretty sure robots don't get scared. But Coulson caught him getting out of his bunk to try and check on you, so maybe our particular robot has some feelings."

May hardly talks to Simmons, but is gentle when bathing her face. On her way out, though, she softly says, "Rest up, Simmons. We need you healthy."

Simmons smiles a little, the first sign that she's heard something outside of the fever.

It's Coulson she finally wakes up for, swimming her way back to consciousness and reality to hear him reading The Hobbit out loud. "I've never read it," he explains, dropping a thermometer under her tongue. "Figured it was time, what with the movies coming out." The thermometer beeps and he takes it out. "Ninety-nine point six. You're officially on the mend. You had us worried for awhile."

"I'm sorry," she murmurs. "You were all sick, and I wanted to help, and I...my being ill, it isn't as important."

"Are you saying your health isn't important, Jemma Simmons?" Her eyes widen a bit at the tone in his voice. "If I ever hear those words come out of your mouth again, you will be off this team so fast your head will spin."

"Yes, sir," she whispers.

"Good," he says, and continues reading.

The next year, the BUS is the very first SHIELD base to get a case of flu shots, and Jemma Simmons is the very first agent to get the shot.