disclaimer: hm doesn't belong to me!

Interpretation

Chelsea sighed heavily, leaning against the barn for a moment. A small breeze whooshed by her, raising goose-bumps on her exposed skin, but she could barely muster the strength to shiver; besides, it felt good too. Kind of…

"Goddess," she grumbled, raising her voice as loud as it would go without hurting her throat and declaring, "Okay, okay, I get it. I'm sick." How much she hated to say those words. Sick? Her? There was no time in the year for that! She had a ranch to run!

Although she had to admit that she didn't feel any better than she did this morning. Worse, maybe.

She sighed again, dragged the bag of weeds over to the shipping bin, and grudgingly waved the white flag inside her mind, sloping back to her house.

Shea watched her come in and sit, curious. "Chelsea work done?"

"For today," the brunette groaned, settling her head onto her folded arms.

"Something wrong?" He asked, now on his feet, alert.

She nodded and coughed, deciding she'd caught that flu that was spreading around the island. Julia had probably given it to her; she'd been ill herself a couple of days ago. Elliot usually worried about anything, and this hadn't helped his state at all. Jules was still apologising now.

"I think there's something in the air."

"The air?" The Wildman hurried to the door, opened it and peered out. "Where?"

Chelsea had forgotten he found it difficult to understand some things. "Oh, Shea, I didn't mean it like that. I meant that this is spreading around, like most other sicknesses do. There's nothing in the air besides birds and bugs."

He closed the door and sat opposite her, eyes concerned. "How you feel?"

"…Weird," she replied. "I keep sniffling and coughing, and I feel real heavy too. Thick, almost, gloopy."

Her husband cocked his head to the side in an action that a fully well Chelsea would giggle at.

She tried once more. "Odd…I feel like…Soup!" The farmer said, hoping he got what she was saying.

To her surprise it appeared he did, though he did not react in the way she would expect him to.

"S-Shea? Where are you going?"

"Chelsea stay here and sleep. Shea be back soon." With a hug and kiss to the cheek, he was away, leaving a confused brunette alone. She stared at the door a minute longer, then shrugged, figuring she might as well do as told and rest for a while.

When she awoke - hours? Minutes? - later, it was to the smell of cooking. Good cooking. Her stomach growled. Rubbing one eye sleepily, Chelsea padded to the source of the smell. Sitting on the table at her usual place was a bowl which, on closer inspection, was almost filled to the brim with vegetable soup.

"Chelsea had good sleep?" His voice made her jump; she hadn't noticed Shea standing there. Or hovering, because for some reason that seemed like a better word.

"Yeah," she said, and she meant it. She didn't feel completely like herself, but she was certainly getting back on track. "What's this?"

"You not like it?" He answered with a question of his own, although it explained the hovering.

"I didn't try it yet." Chelsea moved closer and plopped herself in the seat. It looked appetizing; her stomach growled for the second time and she stuck a spoonful into her mouth. And another. And another.

Shea relaxed.

"It's good! But I don't get why you got it…?"

"Chelsea said she feels like soup, so the lady with the pink hair help make some!"

"Ah!" The situation finally made complete sense. When she'd said that, he'd taken it as 'I feel like eating some soup', not in the way she'd intended. Even so, the gesture was appreciated. "So you went to get some for me…That's really sweet of you, Shea! Thank you."

He looked briefly startled by this outburst, before his face broke out into a huge grin. "Chelsea will get better now!"

She didn't have the heart to tell him he might have to wait a day or two.

The following week, the Wildman was struck down with the same illness. It pained Chelsea to see him in this state, but she knew exactly what to do.

So when Shea was sound asleep she slipped out to Chen's store to pick up a few things…

Suffice to say, it became the couple's thing when one of them was sick.

end of fic

uh, yeah. maybe it was hard to tell, but that's my not-so-subtle way of telling you guys i'm unwell…and that i wanted soup. ironic i decided to write this up now, considering i had the idea planned already…

please review! first time writing this pairing, so pointers would be good (: