I unfortunately have the stomach flu, so I'm sitting at home dying. Well, the only that makes me better is some hurt characters from my favorite shows. I'm a hurt/comfort junkie, so when I'm sick the Fanfiction world will feel my pain whether they like it or not.

Travis walked to his desk where he saw his phone flashing. A text from Wes: Gonna be late, have to finish fixing Alex's roof. I'll be there in fifteen. Travis looked at his phone but could barely recognize the words due to the headache that he had had since he woke up. Everything hurt, but Travis doesn't do sick days. Sick days are for the weak, and Travis Marks wasn't weak. The normal chatter in the room sounded like sirens to Travis, and all the colognes and perfumes were making him incredibly nauseous. Maybe if he put his head down for a moment he would feel better.

Wes walked into the building and stopped at the fridge to grab a water bottle. It was almost 95 degrees in LA. Wes grabbed his water and starting walking to his desk. Was Travis sleeping? That is so unprofessional. Wes slapped Travis on the top of his head with a file.

"Trav! So tell me, was it a girl or drinking that kept you out all night?" said Wes.

Travis sat up quickly, a little too quickly. "Hmm?" grumbled Travis.

Wes saw the glassy look in his eyes. Even if Travis was hungover or tired, he always had his natural charm to get him through the day.

"You feelin' okay?" asked a somewhat concerned Wes.

Captain Sutton walked into the room. "Marks and Mitchell, you got a case!"

The two grabbed their things and walked to the car. Wes walked faster with Travis lagging behind him. The two got in the car and started their drive to their destination about twenty minutes away. Travis laid his head against the window because all the twists and turns in the road were making his stomach churn. Wes kept sneaking worried glances toward his partner because Travis looked like death.

"Could you please drive a little slower?" mumbled Travis.

"Are you okay Trav?" asked Wes.

"Yeah, I'm just a little tired." responded Travis.

"Maybe you should try sleeping at night instead of partying." giggled Wes.

"Pull over." whispered Travis.

"What?" questioned Wes.

"PULL OVER" yelled Travis.

Wes pulled over to the side of the road where Travis emptied the contents of his stomach. Wes got out of the car and rushed to Travis's' side. Travis was coughing and Wes handed him a bottle of water.

"Thanks." said Travis.

"When were you going to tell me you were sick?"

"I wasn't planning on telling you at all, so consider yourself lucky."

Wes called Sutton and explained their situation. Sutton said he'd send another team down to take this case, and to tell Travis to feel better.

Travis stood up slowly and sat back down in the car. Wes got back in the driver's seat.

"Just tell me if you need me to pull over again."

Travis mumbled in reply because all of a sudden Wes's seats were extremely comfortable. The two were in the car for about ten minutes and it was... quiet. Wes looked over, Travis was sleeping. He looked so miserable, even in his slumber. Wes arrived at his hotel, his makeshift home, and leaned over to shake his partner awake. Travis jumped.

"We're here." said Wes.

Travis looked around. "This isn't my place." mumbled a groggy Travis.

"Trav, you're sick. If I leave you alone I'll never hear the end of it in therapy. They'll think I'm a total jerk for leaving a sick, defenseless you alone." stated Wes

"Whatever." said Travis.

Travis went to get out of the car, and nearly face-planted on the ground. Thankfully, Wes rushed over and caught him just in time. Wes half carried Travis to the door.

"Alright, let's get you to bed." said Wes.

Travis giggled, "Whoa there slugger, you gotta buy me dinner first." said Travis.

Wes rolled his eyes and smirked.

"Why are we friends?" mumbled Wes.

Alright. I'm going to continue dying. Not sure if I want to end it here. Tell me if you want me to continue. Review please. BTW: I know I need to finish my Criminal Minds story, it'll get done. Eventually.