Title: Day 7
Author: tarotgal
Fandom: Bones
Rating: PG
Pairing: Canon ones
Disclaimer: Not my characters. I wish they were mine. I definitely don’t get paid for this.
Summary: There seems to be a cold bug going around the Jeffersonian.
Notes: Written during my 12 Ficlets in 12 Days in 2018-19 project project for sequoia07.

“Yes, but they didn't... didn't... didn't take into account the...” Sweets turned, pinching his nose, but it wasn't enough to stop the incoming sneeze. “ihh-HUTshhh!” He rubbed at his nose, shaking his head. “Excuse me.”

Leaning back in his desk chair, Booth looked concerned, almost nervous. “What was that?”

“Ah, sniff, just had to sneeze.” Sweets cleared his throat.

Booth rolled his desk chair back to the wall and pointed at his office door. “Get out.”

“I'm sorry?”

“I need you out of my office, and take your cold germs with you. I've got twice as many cases right now due to the holidays. I really can't afford to get sick right now.” He leaned forward just far enough to get at the drawer of his desk and pulled out a spray can of Lemon Lysol. “Sorry, Sweets, but you've gotta go.”

“Seely, we haven't finished discussing—”

“Right. Call me.” Booth got and walked around his desk, giving Sweets a wide berth. He opened the office door and gestured for Sweets to leave immediately.

Reluctantly, Sweets got up, left the office, and put up with the door being closed in his face. He took his cell phone out, dialed Seely's number, and was actually surprised when the agent answered sounding calm and casual. “You know this is ridiculous, right? You're overreacting. It was just one sneeze.”

“It starts off as just one sneeze,” Booth explained, “But it's a cold before you know it. And, by then, it's too late. You're already contagious. I can't help that I have a strong sense of self-preservation.”

“But I'm not sick.” Sweets insisted. “And even if I am, this isn't the plague.”

“I'm not taking the chance. Now, what were you saying about Myers and Lorkin?”

It took Sweets a few seconds to push aside the indignity and resume the case discussion. He leaned back against Booth's office door and closed his eyes. “They approached the heist with a single-mindedness common in criminals. They weren't thinking about... ab... oh... ihhh-IHchhhh!”

“God bless you.”

Sweets both flushed and smiled at Booth instinctively blessing him. “Thanks. Sniff!”

*

Hodgins adjusted the microscope's settings, keeping an eye on the door. Dr. Brennan tended to appear, demanding answers, whenever he was right in the middle of something. It was uncanny, actually. But he didn't feel like being disturbed right now. “hah-ahh-HETCHOO!”

He just managed to pull back from the microscope, pull a tissue from the box temporarily sitting on his lab table, and bury his nose into it in time to catch the strong sneeze. Taking a couple seconds for himself, he massaged his nose through the tissue before crumpling it into a ball and tossing it in to the trashcan beneath the far end of his desk, which was being steadily filled with those today.

This was an awful head cold. It had come on so quickly, he didn't really know what to do about it. This morning, he would have sworn he'd be all right to work just like normal. But it was almost lunchtime now and he felt exhausted from all this sneezing and coughing and blowing his nose. Keeping his symptoms in check long enough to do his work felt like a full-time job in and of itself.

And then there was this case. A dead body found mangled and eaten inside the insect room at the Smithsonian Natural History Museum was his dream case. So many interesting aspects to consider and insects to study. He didn't want to be sent home sick and miss this once-in-a-lifetime chance.

He started back toward the microscope but only made it as far as the tissue box. “heh HEHH-ITCHOO! HEHSHOO! Hehh... Ah-HITCHOO!”

“Dr. Hodgins?”

“HAH-SHOO!” He tensed up, grimacing, though only the insects in the petri dishes could have seen. He roughly wiped his nose dry with a tissue, palmed it, and then forced a smile onto his face as he turned around. “Dr. Brennan! How are you?”

“Much better than you, it appears.”

“It's just a little sniffle.”

“Even a little sniffle can interfere with one's work.” She glanced around, her gaze resting on the tissue box longer than anything else. “Do you have results for me yet?”

“Ah, not yet. But as soon as I have something, I'll... hehh... I'll call. Hah!” He grabbed for another tissue. “hahhh-AHSHOOO!”

She frowned. “Looks like you already have more than enough on your plate. As soon as the results are in, you should go home.”

As far as Hodgins was concerned, he still had days of work yet to do. And, by then, he'd probably be over the worst of this cold. So it wasn't a difficult promise to make. “I will,” he told her.

She studied him a moment, as if she didn't believe him. Then she nodded and headed back out of the lab.

He took a deep breath, exhaled, and then immediately regretted it. “ahhh...” He grabbed for another tissue. “HAHH-AHShoo! H'shooo!”

*

“Long day, Bones?” Seely asked, glancing over at Temperance in the passenger seat. Given their schedules and cases, it wasn't often that they both left work at the same time; a commute home together was a rare pleasure. They usually talked work or family, but tonight, Temperance was just trying to stay awake. He had caught her yawning.

“Incredibly. It's been a strange case—a lot more waiting than I'd like. There isn't much I can do except theorize at this point. I need more evidence. But Jackson's in the middle of cleaning off the bones and Angela can't reconstruct the facial features yet and Dr. Hodgins...” She sighed. “Dr. Hodgins is sick and therefore working significantly slower than usual.” 

Booth raised an eyebrow. “Hodgins is sick? Is it a cold?”

“Appeared to be. He's been sneezing a lot.”

“Any idea where he got it?”

She shook her head. “I didn't think it relevant to ask. I wanted results from the insects, and he didn't have those yet. So I didn't spend much time in the lab.”

“Well, that's good. I wouldn't want you catching it. I think a bug might be going around the Jeffersonian.”

She cocked her head. “And by bug, I assume I do not mean one one of Hodgins's specimins?”

He flipped his turn signal on, changed lanes, and turned it off again. “I mean the head cold that Sweets has as well.”

“Sweets? Interesting...”

“How so?”

“As far as I know, he and Hodgins haven't worked on the same case in a few weeks. It doesn't seem likely that they have the same cold. One couldn't have caught it from the other.”

“Well, they caught it from someone,” he said, shrugging as he turned onto the street and drove up to their house.

*

Hodgins sat on a stool with his elbows on the lab table and his hands covering his face. His head ached. His sinuses throbbed. He wanted rest but, more than anything else, he wanted to figure out what these beetles had eaten.

“hahh!” Tiredly, he reached for another tissue. At this rate, he was going to have to head out at some point for another box. “Hahhh-HAHShoo!” He winced, wiping at his nose. He was going to need some Vaseline or something for his sore nose as well.

“You don't sound so good, sweetie.”

He turned in his seat to find Angela leaning against the door frame. She was studying him—scrutinizing him—in detail as if she might need to sketch him later.

There wasn't much he could say except agree with her, but he didn't even get a chance to do that much. “hahhh!” He snatched up another tissue. “Hahhh-AHShooo!”

She cooed with sympathy. “Ohh... bless you. Got a cold?”

“Got a bad cold,” he corrected. “Assuming it is just a cold and not some new flu strain developed by the government. Sniff! Whatever it is, though, it is slowly but surely kicking my butt here.” Demonstratively, he blew his nose into what remained of the tissue before balling it up and adding it to the now overflowing trash can. Good thing he was King of the Lab; no one else would be able to get away with working while this sick. But the squints who had come in today hadn't even commented on his incessant sniffling and sneezing. They'd all been skittish and nervous around him, doing their jobs quickly before fleeing lest they catch whatever it was he had. Hodgins couldn't exactly blame them; he'd caught this cold pretty easily, after all.

“Poor baby.” She walked over, apparently intending to put a hand on his shoulder or feel his forehead for fever or possibly both.

But he pulled away, darting around, putting the wide lab table between them. “Don't. I don't want you to catch... to catch...” Not near enough to the tissues this time, Hodgins raised his arm and buried his nose in the crook of his elbow. “huhhhAshmphhhhh! H'shmphhhh!” A chill ran through him that had nothing at all to do with his cold and the light fever he might or might not be running. That was how he had sneezed, right into his arm like that, though surely he would have been given tissues if he'd asked for them. Maybe a handkerchief, even. That seemed more his style. Funny that someone so young could be so old fashioned about something like sneezing. “'Scuse me,” Hodgins finished, though the way his nose was feeling, he wouldn't be finished for very long. He coughed a couple times and rubbed his nose into his sleeve before lifting his head and pretending he was all right and not at all sick and miserable.

Angela studied him for a few more moments, during which he felt self-conscious, before she said, “I bet you skipped lunch.”

He gestured to his work. “Well, you know, I had some tests to run...”

“Oh, I know.” She readjusted her purse on her shoulder. “I'm going to go grab us some dinner. Soup and sandwiches. Then I'm going to make you take a break and have something to eat. You're never going to get over that head cold unless you treat yourself better. Just be glad you've got someone who’s happy to take care of you.”

He smiled as she turned to leave; she wasn't giving him a chance to object, not that he would have done so. She hadn't insisted he go home, even though it was getting late and the Jeffersonian was already practically deserted. She hadn't berated him for working while sick, even though he clearly wasn't working at his normal pace. Instead, she was going to get him something warm to eat and maybe, just maybe, they could sit together for a few minutes and he could feel like everything was all right.

“Oh, Ang?”

She turned back, eyebrows raised.

“Can you get me a new box of tissues? And... uh... maybe... uh...” he waved a hand vaguely at his nose with a bit of embarrassment. “Some Vaseline? My nose is really sore.”

Kindly, she smiled and nodded. “Of course, sweetie.”

He sighed, not realizing at all that he had been holding his breath. “Thanks, Ang. You're the best.”

She really was the best. He felt lucky to have her looking out for him, caring about him.

*

The moment the thermometer beeped, Sweets pulled it out from under his tongue. No fever. Which didn't make much sense, given the way he was feeling just now. Maybe his thermometer was bad and he should go to the store for another? However, wrapped up in a fluffy, fleece blanket on his couch, he didn't feel like doing anything. “ihh-YIHTChhhhh!” Apart from sneezing. He felt like doing that almost constantly.

Sweets supposed it stemmed from his childhood growing up in the foster care system, but he was used to taking care of himself when he came down with something. On his way home from work, he'd stopped by the grocery store for some microwaveable meals, some orange juice, some OTC cold medicine, and some tissues. Settling down on the couch with some case files had seemed like just the thing for the evening, but he'd barely been able to concentrate on his work. He would sneeze after every few sentences he read, and his mind just wasn't making the leaps and connections he needed it to.

“ihh-IHTchhh! Ihhshhhh!” If only Sweets had something else to concentrate on. Or maybe someone. That's what he had said, too. But at least he had had various healthcare professionals looking after him. Sweets was alone.

Tossing the case folders aside, Sweets  pulled the blanket tighter around himself, the white fleece soft against his cheek and chin. The blanket trailed behind him like a cape as he got up from the couch and headed to the bedroom. He kept it around his shoulders as he brushed his teeth and flossed, only putting it down momentarily as he changed into his pajamas, a burgundy satin that was cold against his skin.

“ihhhKTchhh! Ihhshhh! Ihhhh-IHTChhhh!” Damn it, he'd left the tissues in the living room.

It took some time to get properly situated, but once he was in bed, blankets wrapped around him, tissues in hand, heavy metal music blaring from the speakers on his nightstand, he was able to relax.

*

“hahh-HAHShuhhh!”

Sweets looked up from the coffee he was drowning in sugar and creamer to see Hodgins shuffling along in the Jeffersonian cafeteria line, a hot breakfast sandwich and to go coffee cup on his tray. Hodgins had a gray sweatshirt hood pulled up over his head, and he was hunched over, sort of curled in on himself to hide himself from view, but Sweets knew him at once.

Taking a sip of his coffee, Sweets lingered at the station, pretending to be deciding if he needed to make any adjustments to the drink. He didn't really even care for the taste; he simply needed the warmth and something to keep him from falling asleep on the job today. He had had a rough night, up about a hundred times sneezing and blowing his nose and sneezing some more.

But Hodgins looked like his night had been even rougher, like maybe he hadn't gone to bed at all. Maybe he hadn't even gone home at all. Tiredly, the man shuffled over to the coffee station. Sweets casually moved to the side, out of the way of some people he didn't know who urgently needed to get to sugar packets, stirring sticks, and lids. It was a popular place to be in the morning; coffee was the lifeblood of so many people these days. Sweets watched as Hodgins filled his cup right to the brim with coffee then went straight for a lid, taking it as black as it could get. He left his tray in a stack to the side and turned to leave, coffee cup in one hand and egg sandwich in the other. But Sweets had positioned himself perfectly, and Hodgins found himself face-to-face with the man.

“Oh! Uh, g'bordig, Sweets.”

“Morning,” Sweets replied. He had loaded up on Dayquil before leaving home and still had the bottle in his pocket, actually, which he'd forgotten about when going through the security line that morning to get into the building.  Though he still felt sick and tired, the medicine kept his congestion in check. “Looks like you're fighting a cold.”

Hodgins nodded, sniffling. “Y'bight dot wadt to get too close. Codtagihhh... ih-hahhh...” His hands full, he lifted his arm with the sandwich in it and sneezed into the crook. “Hah-AHShummphhh!” He snapped forward, staying in that position as he wasn't quite done yet. “Sniff! Hah hah Hah-AHShmphhhh!”

Sweets was mildly amused at the sight that brought a memory to mind. “That's exactly how Zack sneezes.”

Hodgins looked up, startled. The two men studied each other, trying to gauge the other man's reaction while not giving anything away in his own expression. Then Sweets wrinkled his nose and sniffed wetly, giving himself away. Slowly, Hodgins smiled. “You caught his cold, too, huh?”

Sweets nodded. Poor Zack had been sneezing practically their whole visit, which Sweets had insisted they cut short in the end. Zack had looked tired, exhausted, which made sense considering his cold, but made even more sense now that Sweets knew he'd actually had two visitors that day, not just one.

“You dod't seeb as sdeezy as I... as... hahhh-AH-HShmmphhh! as I ab. What's your secret?”

“Truthfully, I think I sneezed so much last night I don't have too many more in me. And I'd like to say it's my amazing self-control. But this also helps.” Pulling the bottle from his pocket, he tilted it in Hodgins' direction. “Would you like some?”

Hodgins didn't even hesitate to nod. “Blease.” Even his plea was stuffy.

They headed over to a cafeteria table, so they could put their coffees down. Hodgins took the opportunity to pull a tissue out of his pocket and blow his nose. Sweets, who had grabbed a small, plastic water cup, poured a dose of medicine into it, eyeballing it next to the cup that fit around the cap. It wasn't exact, and any one of the scientists he worked with on a daily basis—Zack included—would probably have called him on it. But Hodgins was too sneezy and desperate to care. He took the cup, knocked the thick liquid back in a single gulp, and blew his nose again. “Thadks.”

“Don't mention it. Hope it helps you.” He sipped his coffee, feeling the warmth permeate throughout his body. He had stopped by a store on the way to work to buy a new thermometer, but that one also claimed he wasn't running a fever. That didn't make him feel any less chilly, however.

Hodgins nodded absentmindedly. “Got to fidish a few tests. There's sobethig weird about the sbiders at the buseub. Odce I figure that out, I'b goidg hobe. I brobised Dr. B.”

“I hope you figure it out quickly, then.” Feeling his nose starting to run, presumably helped along by the steam from the coffee, he reached into his pocket, finding the dozen or so tissues he had individually folded into squares that morning. He pulled one out now and wiped at his nose. “I'm in for the day, I'm afraid. Too much work to do.” The pitch of his voice rose as he finished that last sentence, feeling something more than just runniness in his nose. “ihh!” His brow furrowed, and he folded the tissue over his nose and mouth quite quickly. “ihh-YIHshhh!”

“Gesundheit.” 

Silently, Sweets nodded his appreciation, blushing slightly from the attention.

“Hey, let's check id with each other today, bake sure the other's okay, has everythidg he deeds. Adgela bought be a couble extra boxes of Kleedex last dight. You're welcobe to ode.”

“Thanks. I might actually take you up on that.” He wiped his nose again and folded the tissue in his palm, hiding it until he got up to throw it away. He cleared his throat. “I'll give you a call in an hour to see how you're doing, all right?”

“Souds good. Hobefully this bedicide will kick id by thed.”

“It really should.” It was the same cold, after all, though their immune systems were a bit different. Everyone had a different tolerance, different reaction. Everyone was different inside. And that's what made Sweets' job so fascinating. “Hang in there, Dr. Hodgins.”

“You, too, Sweets.”