Deuce had called in sick to his work that morning. Not because he was actually sick, but because you were. Your husband felt responsible for you, and insisted on staying home to help you recover.

He stayed by your side through the morning, and made you soup. Just previously, he'd held your hair back when you were throwing up. Not the most comfortable thing for him to do, but hey, it's the thought that counts, right? He didn't really seem to know what you were going through, but he wanted to help regardless. It was one of the qualities that led you to loving him in the first place.

"You're sure that you're okay?" Deuce spoke softly, holding your hand and looking at you with those gentle teal eyes as you got comfortable on the couch. He set the soup on the table in front of you, and took a seat next to you. "Your temperature's not too high right now... That's good."