Doctor, Doctor (R.S.L)

Chapter 3

"Which is why I'm practically immune to sickness." He joked. "I'm serious, Blake. I don't mind getting sick if it means I get to hangout with you."

Wow, was it getting hot in here? I definitely had a fever.

"Okay. Come over."

~*~

Somehow, I wasn't really sure, I managed to drag myself out of bed and take a nice, hot shower. The heat and steam helped my pounding headache, but it did nothing for my churning stomach. I wasn't sure how long it would take Ross to get here, so I did my best to change into some comfortable clothes as quick as possible. He had yet to see me in my sweats, but that would end today. 

Screw the makeup, screw the nice hair. Plain face and messy bun was it for me today. 

By the time Ross arrived, the medication I had decided to take had kicked in and I was feeling a tad better. Though I was still incredibly nauseous, I hoped ginger ale would help. Puking in front of my friend would force me to hide out in my closet. I couldn't even imagine what I would do if I puked on him. 

"No hugging." I ordered, just as he began to wrap his arms around me. I placed my hand on his chest...his very toned and muscular-I'm getting off topic- and gently shoved him away. "You can't afford to get sick, Ross. I don't think the kids would appreciate you getting them sick. Even sicker then they already are." 

"Blake, I won't get sick. Promise." 

"You can't control if you get sick or not. You may be a doctor, but you're not immune to all sickness."

"You don't know that." He pouted childishly. 

I chuckled. "But I think I do." I ushered him towards the living room, offering him a place to sit. "Do you want anything to drink or eat?"

"No way, you're not getting me anything." He said. "You're sick. Sick people don't wait on others."

"There's no way you're waiting on me. You're the guest here." 

"But I'm the one who wanted to come over." He shot back. "So shut your pretty little mouth and get comfy." Grabbing the throw blanket on the couch, he bundled me up tightly. "Aw, you look like a burrito." He pinched my warming cheek. "Do you want soup? Tea? Toast?"

I couldn't believe how sweet he was being. He was a guest in my own place, and yet here he was, taking care of my sick self. "You can make the soup, but I probably won't keep it down. I've been puking all morning."

"Which is why you need something in your stomach. Throwing up on an empty stomach will just make you feel weak."  He explained. He quickly stepped into my kitchen and got to work, much to my amazement. I couldn't help but watch him as he made me homemade soup, and I swear my jaw dropped every few minutes. I had never made homemade soup in my life, and the aroma as it cooked in the pot was mouth-watering. 

Never made homemade soup in my life, yet I had the ingredients.

"Be careful, it's hot." He instructed, carefully walking towards me with a steaming bowl of soup. 

"Yes, dad." I gave him a two finger salute before placing the soup in my lap. I dipped my spoon in the steaming liquid, slowly bringing it up to my lips and blowing on it so it wouldn't burn my tongue. The second it hit my taste buds, my eyes slightly widened. "Holy crap, this is really good."

"You seem so shocked, that I don't know if I should take that as a compliment or an insult." He raised his eyebrows at me, slurping on his own bowl. 

"Compliment, definitely a compliment."

"Good to know."

"I just never knew you cooked. Take care of sick kids, yes. Cook, no."