The sound of gagging was what woke you up that day. You and Jonathan had just moved into a little apartment that winter. The weather was biting and the living room was still full of half-packed boxes. Your heater was fully working yet, so it wasn't a huge shock when Jonathan caught the stomach flu.

"M'fine. M'fine.. just queasy..." he mumbled, slowly returning to bed. You made him put the thermometer under his tongue and hold it there. Jonathan was clammy with his arms wrapped firmly sround his aching middle.

Beep beep.

You relinquished the thermometer, reading it. "101 degrees. You have a fever, bunny."

Jonathan whined, rubbing his eyes. His dinner from last night churned in his stomach as if the rest was about to come up. You laid him back down and tucked him in. Neither of you were going anywhere today.