BB says: Hi guys! This is the first of three Generator Rex one-shots I plan to create. By the end I may have more (I'm just one big flip-flop when it comes to writing ^^;) but for now let's just believe there will be three. This one is Holix and, I admit, is probably the shortest of the bunch. I like to think of it as a warm up.

Rating: Teen. It's not racy, but I don't take chances.

Disclaimer: I do not own Generator Rex or the characters. Nor to I own the quote below.

Because I am a woman, I must make unusual efforts to succeed. If I fail, no one will say, "She doesn't have what it takes." They will say, "Women don't have what it takes."

~Clare Boothe Luce

Two absolute truths could explain Holiday's predicament.

The first to be taken into account was the fact that she would die a thousand, horribly painful deaths before letting any sort of weakness show. That's just the way it was. From early in life, when she was carrying most of the weight in group projects at school and being hit on by meat heads, Holiday realized that though she was smarter than most of the males around her, she had to work twice as hard to be considered half as good. So many professors, so many superiors she was absolutely certain she could outshine given the chance. She was forced to develop the powerful confidence that was necessary for her to prove that she could do this job better than any man while still having time to do shave her legs, apply make-up, and frown at how big her butt was getting. Because this was the world of intelligent women. Fighting just to be acknowledged.

Secondly, she had a duty to herself, Rex, and the rest of the world. It was inexcusable, in her very modest opinion, to request a sick day and lie around while the human populace awaited a cure to the nightmare. The needs of the many always outweigh the needs of the few, and although her head was killing her and her feet were dragging and she couldn't breathe through her nose, she was only one woman. The few. She could deal with a day or two of discomfort if it put them that much closer to a breakthrough. Which was why she was here at six in the morning, an hour before anyone else, trying to focus on the glowing screen that seemed to be making her head worse.

She sneezed again, desperately trying to stifle it in the crook of her elbow. Curse you common cold, you back-stabbing bitch. It seemed like she caught it every cold and flu season, the illness totally skipping most of the staff in order to attack her. She never saw anyone else sniffling or wheezing or coughing during this time of year! The only possibly explanation was that her immune system was the lowest in the entire establishment of Providence, and she refused to believe that her luck could be that bad.

She coughed a painful cough. Damn it. It had gotten worse since yesterday. The doctor wasn't stupid enough to believe staying on her feet wasn't affecting her condition. She knew perfectly well rest would help her heal faster. That was simple logic. But she knew from experience fighting through the discomfort was a trade off; more misery but more work done. She would get worse before she got better. Acceptable loses in her opinion.

Holiday reached for her coffee to soothe her throat (although combining caffeine with the cold medicine she had taken this morning probably wasn't the best idea) and was irked when her hand wrapped around air.

"What do you think you're doing?" Holiday couldn't keep her voice from croaking as she was made aware of her partner. She wondered how he had gotten in without her realizing it before, but the fact that he was Six and therefore a ninja was enough of an excuse. She sighed and spun in her office chair to glare up at him. Like she was expecting him to simply give the cup back after being confronted.

Nothing was that easy with Six. Zip. Nada.

"You don't need it."

"I beg to differ." She stuck her hand out as her lip protruded in an unconscious pout. After a few seconds of their mutual glares, she lunged at the mug, not totally surprised when he swiped it out of her reach. Again. And again. And again.

The end result was the tall, lanky man holding the coffee over his head and the short, willowy woman standing on her tip toes to reach it. She occasionally gave a little jump for leverage, but quickly realized that jumping mixed with her cold and heels was a nauseating experience. The scene was very amusing, and Holiday's frustration increased as Six taunted her silently.

"Give it!"

"No."

"Six!"

"No."

"Seriously!"

"No." She crossed her arms and frowned, the red of indignation blossoming in olive cheeks. Recognizing victory, Six held the cup back at chest level.

"Why won't you give it back?" A hand, the one without the mug, slid into a pants pocket. "I told you, you don't need it."

"You know I can't function without my morning coffee." Six 's lips gave a small twitch, a gesture the doctor recognized as his attempt to suppress a smile. Or a smirk, as the case may be. Her hazel eyes, glazed with the unique exhaustion wrought by sickness, narrowed into her special Holiday Glare. "You have five seconds before your actions are met with serious repercussions Six." A dark eyebrow shot up behind dark glasses. "I don't feel threatened by a sick woman, Holiday."

"Four seconds." Great. He knew she was sick. And he probably knew the day before, too.

"Holiday-"

"Three seconds." Standing this long was making her legs wobble. Why couldn't he just give her back her damn coffee?"

"Holiday-"

"Two seconds." Six placed the mug on her desk, careful not to splash the contents. Holiday wasn't foolish enough to see this as a victory. She had to get rid of him before he tried something else. "Thank you. Now if you would-" she was cut off by her own squeal as large, katana callused hands gripped her waist and slung her over a broad shoulder. Six proceeded to carry her away, abandoning her lab coat over the back of her chair.

Holiday's blush of embarrassment was nicely accented by her frown and clenched eyes. "Damn it Six! Put me down this instant! I'll kill you! You son of a bitch!" Holiday didn't like resorting to barbaric threats and language, but her throbbing head and stuffed nose were bringing out the worst in her. She kicked and spewed curses and punched at his back, a fierce ball of aggression winding in her chest.

Six didn't even flinch at her infuriation. A weaker man would have set her down and apologized, or even feared for his relationship with the woman. But Six was neither weak nor concerned for their strange companionship. In fact, Six enjoyed moments like this because he knew Holiday would only show the true force of her temper to someone she trusted (or hated. He knew better than to suspect he was the latter). Holiday was at her most beautiful when fired up, when she stopped caring for procedure and precision and just let everything go up in an untamed inferno. He loved a woman with fight and grit.

The agent wasn't a man with the patience to rescue a damsel in distress every five seconds. The women who threw themselves at the tall man with the ruggedly handsome face and the cool demeanor. Who grew uncertain and clingy whenever another female walked by and could be utterly destroyed at the smallest of criticisms. How such individuals survived in the present world was a mystery he had no interest in pursuing because he was one of the lucky men who was actually able to find a strong woman. The type of woman who could comfort with the same hands she fought with. Who had found a happy medium between hard and soft and could swing between the two extremes with grace.

Who, even now, hair mussed from her tantrum, face red with fury, body shaking with barely pent up violence, was the most beautiful thing on earth. As usual, Six was glad for his dark glasses. Otherwise Holiday would have seen him watch her long before they began their…mutual displays of affection. She would see how soft his eyes had gotten as he watched her weakened and pained movements. She really was sick.

He had dropped her, unceremoniously, onto her bed and pinned her when she tried to sit up. Holiday was barely angry enough to squash the hot anticipation in her gut from their position. "I have work to do, let me go."

"You're sick."

"Yes, that fact had already been established." She bucked against his hands.

"So you're staying in bed today."

"Like Hell!" She almost back handed him in her thrashing. Six kept cool. In fact, he seemed to be amused by the whole situation. "The second I let you go, you'll go sprinting back to your office."

"Absolutely!"

"I can't talk you out of it?"

"No!" This was getting out of hand. All she wanted from the world was for her stubborn partner to let her up and stop bugging her. Was doing her job too much to ask for? Was it such a sin to be a professional? But no, Six had to be in her business, in her face, in her every waking thought with his sexy cool attitude and the heated gaze she felt burning through his glasses. Curse him! Curse him and every sunglass factory on the planet!

Six's tightened his grip even as Holiday weakened. Just as she drew a breath to continue berating him, he pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth.

Holiday was disappointed in herself for going limp and completely accepting his advances.

Six's lips moved a bit, pressing against hers as he released her frozen hands. His arms wrapped around her waist, and he climbed the rest of the way onto the bed as her hands wrapped around his neck. Holiday had forgotten why they had been fighting in the first place as he gently chewed on her lip and pulled her close.

No one would ever believe her if she tried to express how incredibly gentle Six was as a lover. How softly he would caress her body, how sweet and plush his cracked lips were. The genius was completely helpless in the wake of his surprisingly warm hands and his lithe body.

"Work…to do…" she protested weakly as he pressed his lips to her jaw. His only response was a low growl and she shivered as rough thumbs pressed to her stomach. He pulled her orange sweater over her head, and Holiday gasped and jumped at the cool air. Six pressed his lips to hers once again before pulling away reluctantly.

"You're staying here." She fought through the haze of lust had drifted through her mind. "No..." He kissed her chastely and stood. Holiday's sweater was still clutched in his hands as he opened the door to leave. "You don't have a choice. I'll bring you your laptop." It was miracle his voice was so steady. He commended himself for being able to leave a topless, breathless Holiday in bed alone.

He could hear her roar of pure rage as she realized all her shirts were missing.

She was so beautiful when angry.

And it was completely worth the sniffles Six woke to the next day.