DISCLAIMER: I don't own Gundam Wing.

Just a fluffy oneshot I threw together for a sick friend.

Duo stared balefully at the stoic figure standing in the doorway. "Move." His voice was hoarse, muffled by congestion.

"No." Blue eyes tore through his rather pathetic attempt to appear healthy. Even were Duo's voice not proof of his continuing illness, his face - eyes heavy with fatigue, cheeks red with fever - was a dead give away, as was his inability to stand up straight without support. Currently, the braided pilot was holding himself up by a discrete hand on the bedpost.

"I am perfectly capable-" Duo interrupted himself with a fierce bout of coughing that sent him to the ground, one hand covering his mouth.

"You are sick. You are to stay in bed until you are well again, Doctor Po's orders."

Duo began to rant, his words interspersed with hacking coughs and gasps for oxygen. "I've been in bed all day! I'm going insane! And I'm hungry. I haven't thrown up since last night, and I've been drinking my water. I am perfectly capable of walking down one flight of stairs to get some food."

"No. You are still sick. You cannot even make it to the door without help, and solid foods would not help your stomach." The stoic pilot's matter-of-fact tone, only made the fact that he was absolutely right that much harder. "Get back in bed or I will put you back myself."

Scowling at the very thought, Duo pushed himself up. He'd been around Heero long enough to be able to tell when arguing might encourage him to change his mind - this was not one of those times. Collapsing onto the bed - not bothering to pull the covers that had somehow ended up scrunched into a pile at the end of the bed over him, he gave Heero a cold stare. "Can I at least get my laptop?"

There was a quiet moment before Heero nodded. "I will get it. You will stay in bed while I do, or..." There was very little that Heero could do to successfully phase the self-proclaimed God of Death, but after a moment's thought, he found a threat that would work. "I will turn you and your well-being over to Quatre."

For a moment, Duo thought he was joking. When the realization that the Wing pilot was as serious as he could be, indigo eyes went wide, "You wouldn't."

Quatre had always been soft-hearted and caring, but the first time one of the pilots - Trowa - had been sick, he had taken the very idea far beyond what even less-than-normal terrorist teenagers could stand. It had not been pretty. Trowa still had nightmares about chicken soup, and none of them would ever be able to look at an icepack the same way again.

It had been a unanimous decision, the next time one of them had fallen ill, that they would tell the blond that the invalid in question, and whoever was designated his caretaker, had merely gone on an indefinite mission. And in a way, it wasn't really a lie....

Suffice it to say that all four of the mentally-scarred pilots fervently hoped that he never found out.

Heero lifted his eyebrow as if to say, Wouldn't I?

Duo growled before rolling over so that he wasn't facing the door, "Fine. I'll stay in bed."

With that, Heero turned to leave, fighting the urge to smile at Duo's pouting.

- - -

It was not much more than ten minutes later when Heero returned, laptop in one hand, a steaming bowl of soup in another. Duo had fallen asleep, his face peaceful as he slept, his braid clutched tightly in his fist. Heero smiled softly, as he set the bowl down on the nightstand. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and stared thoughtfully at Duo.

"Idiot." It was meant with affection, as Heero brushed the long bangs away from Duo's eyes. Then he stood and maneuvered the covers up and over the sick brunette's body. He lifted the bowl up, replacing it with the laptop. He could always make more once Duo woke up.

Leaving as quietly as he had entered, he took one final glance at the fragile form under the covers before turning out the lights.

Well... what'd you think?