Rain Check?

~71~

I've heard of being delirious from fevers, or so called fever dreams. But as I wake up on Sunday morning in Chris' guest room, I'm unsure of what parts of Friday and Saturday were a dream and which were reality.

Rolling onto my side, I know it's still early, possibly even the middle of the night since there's not even the smallest shred of light shining through the blinds. A glance at the clock reads 5 AM. Pulling the covers up higher, under my chin, I snuggle against the pillow a bit further as I think over the last 36 hours. 

  My brow furrows in confusion as I realize I'm not in the clothes I was wearing Friday when Chris brought me to his house. I don't remember grabbing clothes when we picked up Star. Looking under the covers I see that I'm in a Sox t-shirt and a pair of boxers that I assume are Chris'.  I fold my hands over the covers and give serious thought as to what on Earth happened. 

  The last thing that I remember of actual reality was falling asleep while Winter Soldier played. Why can't I remember anything else? Or better yet, why do I remember things, but they all seem like a dream?

  My attention changes from the ceiling to the door as it creaks open. Thanks to the flashlight tool on Chris' phone I can just barely see his face scrunch up in annoyance at the sound of the door. I sit up a bit on my elbows, startling him.

  "What are you doing awake?" he asks, taking a step towards the bed, placing a fresh bottle of water next to the bed. He flips the small lamp on casting a quiet glow around the room.

  "I just woke up," I admit, shifting to try and sit up but my body aches.

  "Hang on," he tells me before moving towards the end of the bed where a bench sits. He opens it, grabbing up a couple of pillows to put behind my back. The extra support helps me not to have to exert as much effort to sit upright. "Drink," he instructs me passing the bottle of water over to me, keeping the cap in his hand. 

  I notice a bandage on my arm with a small amount of wrapping. I swallow gently, expecting to still feel the raw remnants from the illness and am pleasantly surprised that it is not as rough as I recall from memory. Chris sees the relief on my face and smiles lightly. "Better? he asks.

  "I think so," I say tentatively, still trying to recall memories of the previous hours. 

  Chris reaches his hand out, placing the back of it to my forehead. He sighs in relief and looks about as relieved as I feel, but then I notice his bottom lip start to tremble. "Chris," I whisper, watching him closely. I take his hand in mine, squeezing it softly. "What's wrong?"

  He nearly collapses next to the bed, landing on his knees as his head drops to the mattress. Muffled, soft cries surround the quiet room. My hand releases his, moving to thread through his hair, offering some sort of comfort. I'm unsure of what else to do but let him cry. "Chris?" 

  He picks his head up just enough for his tear filled eyes to meet my own. "Why are you crying?" 

  His shoulder sag even more, effectively a look of giving up. "You scared me, Demi."

  "What are you talking about?"

  He shifts, sitting back on his haunches, swiping at his tears to clear his face. "Do you not remember?" I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out as I shake my head. "You were so sick, sweetheart. I've never been more scared for someone in my life."

  "What?" I'm still sitting there in confusion, remembering not nearly enough to put any form of pieces together. I scoot over on the bed, carefully, still confused as to why my body hurts as much as it does. I offer him my hand, which he gladly takes, curling right up against me, wrapping his arm around my waist and resting his head against my stomach. 

  He's never been so vulnerable in front of me.

  "When I got back from getting our meds, you were curled up into a ball, your whole body just shaking almost uncontrollably but you were still asleep. Your fever was so high that I had to put you in the tub," he admits as I continue to run my hand over his hair. 

  "Guess that explains the new clothes," I tease quietly. 

  He gives only a small chuckle, wiping at his nose. "Yeah, I uh, kind of put you in with your leggings and bra. But, I had Carly come help you change after."

  "Look at you being all respectful." I give a little scratch to his scalp, watching as it sends a shiver through his body. 

  "You really don't remember any of it?" his voice sounding almost timid. 

  "I'm sorry, I don't remember very much at all. My brain feels cloudy, like a dream state. But, what happened to my arm?"

  He releases me from his strong hold, laying on his side now to look at me. "You couldn't keep your meds down. I called a family friend that's a doctor, well he was our pediatrician," he laughs quietly. "He made a house call so we wouldn't have to deal with the hospital. He gave you a shot since you couldn't keep the pills down and then an IV to try and help with the dehydration."

  "Well, I guess that explains why my right butt cheek is throbbing a bit," I mutter as I gingerly rub the spot for just a moment.

  He gives a small side smile. "I stayed out of the room for that one, but Carly was still here. She said you took it like a champ and just whined a little."

  "I can't help it if I have a sensitive peach." His smile grows wider as he finally lets out one of his loud laughs. "I do know that's a sound I haven't heard in a bit."

  He shakes his head, "No. Nothing funny about the last 36 hours, Dempsey." He stares back at me, raising his hand to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing against my cheekbone. "You can't scare me like that again."  His eyes are intense, making me swallow as I look back and forth between both of his eyes, my heart rate beginning to increase. He leans in a bit closer, his eyes moving to my lips when the door gets pushed loudly against the wall, startling us both.

  Dodger and Star both must've heard Chris' loud bellow and decided it was safe to come in and check out what was going on. Dodger jumps up easily onto the bed while Star goes to the side, and whines until Chris reaches down to lift her. "Come on shorty," he teases her, pausing to give her a kiss on her snout before putting her in my lap. 

  "I missed you guys," I announce to them both as Dodger curls up in the small space between Chris and I. 

  "They were worried about ya. Weren't ya guys?" 

  I go very quiet, my hand moving slowly over Star's fur. Chris notices and looks up at me again. "What's wrong?"

  "Just a strange feeling," I tell him, my mind beginning to move quickly. "Why do I feel like I heard the word 'mama' at some point?" I ask. 

  His gaze leaves mine, looking over at Star now. "Oh, uh I was just reassuring Star that her mama would be okay and that she should watch out for you while I was out."

  I give a little nod, looking back at the dogs when he watches me again. Looking back at him I notice the dark circles under his eyes, his usually neatly trimmed beard a bit of a mess. "Why do you look like you haven't gotten any sleep in days?"

  He gives a small chuckle as Dodger licks at his jaw. "Because I haven't."

  "Why not?"

  "Because when you love someone you want to make sure they're alright," he says quietly, giving Dodger a fuss and acting as though the statement didn't hold a vast amount of meaning. 

*Well, what do you know. Managed to get one out on here today too :)

*Unedited