Usually, Dani Reese only called Charlie if someone was dead. Of course, judging by the way she sounded over the phone, Charlie was mostly certain that she might have indeed been dying. For the past three days she had been stoically suffering through a cold at work, glaring at anyone who dared to look at her with an ounce of sympathy with steely eyes. Finally, the Captain gave her an order to go home and she felt bad enough to take it.
She had only called Charlie to talk about the case they were working on. She certainly didn’t expect him to be kind to her in any way—especially not show up with a bag of fresh oranges, tea, and cold medicine. If she had thought that Crews would just show up she wouldn’t have called no matter that her feverish brain wouldn’t shut off. She would have feigned death if she realized someone was going to try to take care of her. The nerve of some Zen red-headed cheerful detectives!
The threats of emasculation when taking care of her was mentioned had worked with Tidwell, but Crews marched to the beat of a different drum—hell, a whole different band. She knew this because he had said that the universe is probably insecure.
Also, he’s in her small apartment kitchen making fresh orange juice and some sort of hot herbal tea.
At one time she would have shot him for even thinking of helping her and she tells herself that she doesn’t shoot him now because her head feels like it would detach itself from her shoulders if she even thinks about sitting up. She certainly isn’t endeared right now, at all. Well, maybe a little.
“Now I know that this tea won’t have the usual color,” Crews says with that wistful tone of his handing her a steamy, somewhat smelly, cup of tea. “But it still packs quite the kick. It’s a secret Ted recipe—except it’s not so secret because then I wouldn’t know how to make it for you. But I do, which, would, of course, mean that he told me.“
Reese finds enough gumption to glare at her rambling partner, which is ruined with a sneeze.
“Bottoms up,” Crews grins and his blue eyes seem to twinkle. “You may want to hold your nose and down it all at once.” He warns and steps back out of sight.
Dani does and nearly spits it back out. She coughs, sputters, coughs, blows her nose, coughs, sneezes and finally gains enough composure to realize that, aside from the downright horrible taste, she feels decidedly better halting her verbal lashing in its tracks. Decidedly better being, of course, able to breathe out of her entire nose instead of just one side.
“You look enlightened,” Crews says, pleased at the results, holding a fresh cup of orange juice.
She musters up enough energy to lob a pillow at him that misses by two whole feet. He picks it up, fluffing it on his way, and helps her to rearrange it back under her head.
“You know,” she finds herself saying. She knows that she will blame this on the cold medicine later. “You didn’t have to come all the way over here and most of the time I’m not the nicest person to you and you came over here anyway because you’re just being you-which isn’t really all that annoying anymore. Anyway…” she lets her voice trail off and forces herself to meet his eyes to try to get him to see the thank you there since she can’t quite say it.
Charlie gives that blinding smile of his and saves her the embarrassment. “You know Reese, if you wanted some of this lovely orange juice, you just had to ask.”
She makes a weak 'gimme' gesture with her hand while trying to cover her smile.