A small swat to the back of your head brought a pout to your face, promptly followed by a rib-aching sneeze.

"Told you to be careful, swear there's a flu going 'round the base," John murmurs, his tone gentle despite the stern look he gives you. The warmth of the bed does little to ease your trembles, but the touch of his hands as he checks your temperature once again seem to do wonders.