A/N: Cheers to Stacy for the prompt. xx

"I'm not sick, Phil."

"Yes, you are."

"No. I'm not."

"Melinda. You have the flu. Simmons confirmed it."

"I'm fine."

"You puked in the kitchen sink." Phil says, forcing Mel into bed with a hand on her shoulder and pulling up the covers. "That's not fine."

She glares at him with such distaste that despite the clammy pallor of her skin and the noisy rasping of her breathing, Phil still feels a little scared.

"I'm going to kill you in your sleep with a blunt butter knife, some dental floss, and a-," May's threat is cut off by a rousing hacking cough that makes her wheeze and convulse.

"Okay, okay." Phil says gently, rubbing her back until the coughs have subsided. "You can tell me all about the ways you're going to dismember me when you're better, but for now, you need to rest."

"What I need is to be working." She argues, pushing the bedclothes off her body. "Do you know how much work we have to do?"

"Yes." Phil says calmly, sitting on the edge of the bed. He pulls the covers back up to her chin and nudges May until she's lying flat. "And as much as you keep this team running, we can cope without you for a couple of days."

May frowns at him but makes no move to sit back up.

"Now, get some rest." Phil says, stroking back the hair from her sweaty forehead. "Skye's gonna want to be in here with you and the only way I think I'll be able to keep her out is if you're asleep."

At the mention of Skye, May's lip twitches.

"She'll probably not even notice I'm gone. Not until she doesn't have to wake up until five AM."

Phil chuckles, letting his hand rest on May's cheek. "I wouldn't be so sure. I think she's probably hovering outside of your door as we speak. Skye was worried about you."

"I'm fine." May insists again, even as her eyes close and she presses herself further into Phil.

Phil kicks off his shoes and slides properly onto the bed, resting his back against the headboard. As an automatic response May lays her head in Phil's lap and curls her arm around his legs.

"Whatever." He smirks, carding his fingers through her hair. "Y'know how I know you're sick?"

May doesn't answer but her head shifts slightly in acknowledgement.

"Because you always get cuddly when you're not feeling good."

"I hate you, Phil." She mumbles, already half asleep.

"Yeah." He smiles. Love you, too."

A/N: Review? Thanks for reading, guys. :)