It was just a stupid cold. Or, at least, that's what you'd been telling yourself since you woke up feeling crummy that morning.

But, with winter looming around the corner and half the base already wiped out with various colds and the flu, you had pushed on. Continuing with your duties as you normally would, ignoring the heat beneath your collar and the ache in your limbs.

You had been glad when you found the day over, unable to recall more then half of it in your fever-hazed state. Stumbling back to the room you shared with your bonded, your beloved - Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley.

The soft sound of the cloth rag in yours hands against metal filled the otherwise quiet room as you cleaned off your gear, doing your best to ignore the trembling in your hands. Every movement, each push and pull of the rag, felt heavier than it should.

Jumping ever so slightly as the door to your room creaked open, you relax as the familiar scent of Ghost drifts in, curling around you like a weighted blanket. The scent you adored so much, which helped you relax during downtime - Smoke, steel and something unmistakably Alpha.

"Hey," he greeted wearily, crossing the room to place a chaste kiss to your forehead, oblivious to how warm you actually were. Before plonking himself down on you shared bed and turning his attention to tugging off his boots. "Johnny's been doing my head in... got himself into trouble with Price earlier when he 'accidentally' dropped a crate of grenades. Seriously, for the demolitions expert, you'd think he'd have more common sense around the explosives."

While you were smitten with Simon, you knew better then anyone that the Alpha had a tendency to ramble when he first got in after the grievances of the day. So, you continued to clean. Gritting your teeth as his voice made the ache between your brow throb more insistently.

"After the Captain chewed him out, Johnny came to me to whine about it," he huffed, half amused and half exasperated, shaking his head. "Apparently Garrick has been teasing him about it-"

He pauses mid-sentence, as if only just realising you'd been oddly quietly. Usually as excited as he was to tell him about your day and eagerly cuddle up to him.

You felt it before he spoke again. Your Alpha's attention shifting, locking fully onto your frame sat at the desk.

"...what's wrong?"

The question was softer, edged with wary concern, as if he sensed something wasn't quite right.

You attempt to nod to urge him to continue, try to keep your hands moving in the same circular motions on your gear. But after struggling through the day, the fever was quickly winning now in the comfort of yours and your mates den.

Your body sways where you sit before you can stop it, vision blurring around the edges. Greased rag slipping from your grasp and onto the surface of the desk, alongside the piece of gear also in your hands.

Ghost was on you in an instant. Hurrying across the room to steady you; hands on your shoulder, kneeling beside the desk chair you sat on. Quickly tugging off his glove and pressing the back of his hand against your forehead.

"Shit" he curses, retracting his hand as he feels the heat coming off your skin.

The shift in him is immediate. No trace of fatigue as there had been before. His inner Alpha immediately perked to attention upon realising his Omega was sick.

"Should have come to me, love," he fussed, pulling you into him, cradling you in his arms. One of his hands caressing your flushed cheek while you happily buried your face into the crook of his neck, though the fabric of his skull-printed balaclava acted as a sort of barrier, with a soft whine. Finally internally admitting that you might be more then a little ill. "So fuckin' stubborn... silly 'mega. Come on, we're getting you into bed. That's an order."