Buffy crumpled the tissue into a tight ball and tossed it across the room. It bounced off the rim of the wastebasket and fell onto the floor.
She sighed, slumping back onto the propped-up pillows. She never missed the basket!
With a groan, Buffy threw the covers back and swung her legs onto the floor. Her feet felt wobbly, and she had to hold on to the night table as she stood. Her face burned and the room began to sway around her.
She was determined, however, to get that tissue into the trash can.
Buffy took careful, shuffling steps, one hand always on some piece of furniture for support. By the time she reached the end of the bed, she felt like she was about to keel over. She allowed herself to sit down and rest at the foot of the bed. The room stabilized.
Feeling her second wind, she stood back up. She closed her eyes against the wave of dizziness that took her over, but she waited it out. After a few moments, she was able to make it across to the corner of the room and the offending tissue. Bending down made her feel like she was plummeting off a tall tower - and she well knew that feeling. She was successful in her mission, though. The tissue made it into the trashcan, and Buffy had to commend herself on her ability to...get up and walk across the room.
With that came the realization that she'd have to now walk back to the bed to lie down again. She sagged against the wall, cluing into the thought that this may have been a bad idea.
"What's the deal with the 'extra-strength' bollocks? Extra compared to what, you think?" Spike entered then, banging the front door loudly.
He swaggered into their bedroom with a bottle of Tylenol in one hand. His eyes widened when he saw her against the wall.
"What the fuck are you doing up?"
Buffy was immediately swooped up into his arms, something she'd normally protest but now she just sighed and nuzzled her cheek against his cool chest. "Missed the trash can," she said by way of explanation.
She knew without seeing his face that he was rolling his eyes. He laid her gently on the bed, though, and threw the covers back over her. "No more wandering from you. Got your medicine and with some rest, you'll get over this in no time."
Buffy didn't want to admit how exhausted she felt from walking across the room. She couldn't help the fact that her eyes kept trying to close, though. She allowed herself to tune out and rest.
Then Spike's weight shifted the bed, and he nudged her body against his. His arm held on to her with a firm grip, and his other hand smoothed through her hair.
Buffy frowned. "I'm sick and kinda gross. I don't know that you want to be cuddling with me right now."
"Not like I'm gonna catch it." He presented two pills and a glass of water to her. "Go on."
With a put-upon sigh, Buffy swallowed the pills and handed the water back to Spike. Business having been taken care of, Spike leaned back with her held tightly to his chest.
"You just enjoy babying me," she said.
"Not gonna lie, it has a certain charm."
"I could still kick your ass, even sick."
"Don't doubt it."
Buffy smiled and turned her head into the welcoming expanse of his chest. "Love you," she muttered, aware that her voice was muffled.
She would have sworn she heard him purr at that, but he would have denied it. So she remained quiet as she fell asleep in his arms.