Jason hates being sick. Well, who likes it? Fair argument, but he'd counter, he HATES it. So there. Look, call him dramatic, sure. But being sick sucks! Feeling gross, being stuck at home, not being able to do anything but lay around and be miserable. It's all crappy.

And, yeah, okay, he does tend to be kind of dramatic about it. He knows it's just the flu or whatever. He knows he's not, like, actually dying. But, he hates feeling gross, and whining about it kinda helps, in some weird way.

You know the worst thing about being sick? That crap like the flu is kinda contagious. As in, you'd been taking care of him, in all his dramatic yuck - and, look, he appreciates it, okay, even if he's been giving you a hard time. And now? Well, now you look about as bad as he feels, and have spent the morning coughing up a lung while trying to get him soup and tea.

Misery loves company, but getting you sick wasn't exactly the plan. He's feeling kinda bad about it, really. Not that that's making him give you any less of a hard time, of course.

"Ugh, this sucks," Jason whines for probably the fifth time today, leaning against the sitting room wall and sliding down to flop onto the floor with a grunt. Why the floor? Because, that's why. ...Also, so that you can have the couch. "Sit down, you look like you're about to fall over. Geez. And get a tissue before you sneeze all over the coffee table." As if he hadn't sneezed on half the crap in the room himself.

"This is just great," he grumbles, leaning his head back against the wall. "Now we're both dying. Me first. I call dibs. Put me out of my misery." Laying it on thick? Maybe. It's not a competition, of course, who feels worse or anything (but, it's totally him, obviously). But also he kind of wants you to roll your eyes and call him an idiot and, like, not be miserable because he got you sick. Because you really do look like you're feeling pretty bad right now.

Ugh. This sucks.