From the noises issuing from his phone speaker prior to his pressing end, it sounded as though he also had a dying girlfriend.

"What? [Name]'s dying?" Luis asked after Scott announced this to the group at large.

"Not literally," Scott said. "She's got a real bad cold, though, maybe a sinus infection."

"Oh." Luis took a moment to digest this information. "That's not an emergency. What are you doing, using your personal cell phone during work hours for something like that?"

Scott could find no immediate response that seemed fitting. Luis continued to insist on relegating him to the card table "desk" assigned to him when X-Con first opened its doors. All Scott had room for was his personal cell phone since Kurt wouldn't allow them to share landlines. Assuming his blank gaze said enough, Scott bent over to retrieve his keys from their spot on the floor.

Luis was staring at him when he resurfaced. "Where you going, buddy?"

"To [Name]'s place. She asked if I could pick up her medicine for her."

"Don't you think you'd better ask your boss if you want to knock off early?"

"Seriously?" Scott looked to Dave and Kurt for support.

"Hey, he made me ask permission to leave to see my mom last week, and she was in the hospital," said Dave.

"Guys, come on. You know [Name]. She wouldn't ask me to do this if she could do it herself."

Luis leaned back in chair—the nicest one in the office, of course—and crossed his arms over his chest. "How do I know you're not making this whole thing up so you can sneak over for some midday nooky?"

"Because I wouldn't do that," Scott protested, then added, "Not to mention, you're not really my boss. We're both the bosses here."

Only for so long could Luis keep up his serious expression without cracking up. He gestured toward the door between giggles. "I'm kidding, man. Go see your girl. She's clearly got you wrapped around her finger."

"I think that is called here 'pussy whipped,'" Kurt said.

"Yeah, thanks, Kurt," said Scott.

If he waited much longer, Luis might change his mind and send Scott off on a call or launch into a long and complicated story about the time his cousin's uncle's brother's son's girlfriend nearly did die of a cold. Then you might actually die before Scott could escape to deliver your prescription. So he booked it toward the hallway, not bothering to pull the door shut behind him as he bustled for the stairs.

"Don't forget to tell [Name] to get well soon from all of us!" Luis called to the general agreement of Kurt and Dave.

Scott waved to show he heard as he made a break in the direction of the building's first floor.

Outside at last, he blinked in the dazzling afternoon sun. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been outside while the sun was still up. Sign-ups for X-Con services went through the roof after their last adventure; all four men had been working long hours to try to keep up with the sudden demand.

He snapped out of his daze to squint at the screen on his phone. Something else Scott had forgotten: how difficult it could be to read anything there when it was so bright outside. How did Cassie manage the transition so easily all the time? It took him multiple attempts to manage a legible text message:

'Luis let me go. I'll be over with your medicine ASAP. If you see the light before I get there, don't walk into it!'

A moment later, you sent a single zombie emoji in answer.

'If you do turn completely by then, I promise to only mention your rotting lips whenever we kiss.'

His phone went into his pocket after the quick exchange. You needed rest; Scott had a mission; and besides, standing in the middle of the sidewalk and trying to read his phone would probably land him in urgent care, or at least give him premature wrinkles. The nearest MUNI looked ready to leave anyway. He caught it in the nick of time and rode it to the stop closest to the pharmacy you used. The text he sent in transit—'Do you need anything else while I'm out?'—went unread. Hopefully that meant you had gone to bed, not drowned in your own snot or some equally undignified way to die.

Despite the ribbing the guys and Hope often gave him over his burgeoning relationship with you, he'd miss you terribly if you passed away now. This was, obviously, ignoring the no small amount of guilt he'd feel for having failed to rescue you before it was too late. Letting you die on him would really put a crimp in his saving-people's-lives record.

Unfortunately, Scott's arrival at the pharmacy could not have been timed more poorly. The line to the counter snaked around multiple aisles inside the store. Well, 'tis the season, Scott thought as he resigned himself to his place at the very end. What choice did he have but to wait and wade through the bins of clearance Christmas decorations? At least the speakers above his head were playing something other than carols this deep into January.

To distract himself from the upcoming deluge of pink and red and hearts, Scott pulled out his cell phone once again. Still no reply from you. He sucked at the inside of cheek, wondering who would be available to chat. Hope was on a long-awaited vacation with her parents and certainly wouldn't react kindly to being interrupted for something so unimportant; Luis would just make fun of him some more; Cassie ought to be in school still.

So that left...Paxton and Maggie. And while the four of them got along much better those days, Scott didn't think he was so desperate for distant company as to contact them. They needed their rest, too. Cassie had had her own bout with the common cold last week. You'd probably caught yours from her, come to think of it.

Thinking of it more, Scott recalled Maggie asking him to pick up some things from the store for their daughter one evening. And suddenly he had a brilliant idea.

The Valentine section couldn't help him much, but soon he turned a corner into a more appropriate aisle. He wracked his brains for the items on Maggie's list as the line continued to inch along. VapoRub, check. Vitamin C booster, check. Assorted over-the-counter medicines for cold and flu symptoms, check.

All these items Scott dumped unceremoniously on the counter when his turn came at last. "Can I pay for all of this here?" he asked. The sullen-looking cashier nodded wordlessly, paving the way for Scott to launch into all the information required to obtain your prescription. He left the store ten minutes later with a paper bag filled with his purchases.

Still no answer from you when he checked his phone again. Scott deliberated for a second before rattling off an uneven, 'Headed your way now.' It wasn't until he made it to your front door that he looked again—and what he saw there took his worry up a notch.

'Can you just use your key to get in? I don't want to have to crawl to the door.'

Wow. Maybe Luis hadn't been too far off about you literally dying. You never asked Scott to simply waltz into your space. One of the unyielding rules of your relationship was that he always ring the doorbell and wait for you to answer. It begged the question of why you'd given him a copy of the key to begin with—but he'd rather not walk in on something you didn't want him seeing. So used to this standard was he that he half-expected the door to explode when he pushed it forward nervously, or you to burst into tears once he hesitantly stepped inside.

Neither occurred. In fact, nothing occurred. Nothing so much as moved as he looked around the cozy home.

"[Name]?" he called. "It's me, Scott! Which you probably already figured out, but I don't want you overexerting yourself because you think I'm a burglar. Well, I am a burglar. I'm here to leave you something today, though. Sort of the opposite of burgling. Not that I'd ever burgle you anyway. Or that I still commit burglaries of any kind!"

He had to clench his teeth together to stop himself from rambling. The quiet snap seemed to echo in the stillness. A very long pause followed his announcement until a series of coughs shattered the silence.

"I'm here," you croaked from a distant room.

The continued miserable sniffling led him easily to your bedroom. You'd left the door ajar—or perhaps a real burglar had. And what kind of boyfriend would he be to stand by and let you get burgled in the next room over?

Taking only the time necessary to fish a Pym Particle Disc from his pocket, Scott kicked the door further open, leaped into the room brandishing the disc, and yelled:

"Freeze, criminal! Hands where I can see them!"

Another coughing fit ensued. When he glanced in the direction of the noise, he found you lying in bed, propped up by what appeared to every pillow in the place.

"What are you doing?" you finally managed to ask him.

But Scott found himself unable to speak. He was thunderstruck. You'd been dating for months, but now he found himself faced with such a sight without any time whatsoever to mentally prepare.

"God, you look horrible," he blurted.

You colored as much as you could, which wasn't much, and Scott realized at once that he'd really put his foot in his mouth this time. There might even have been something glittering in the corners of your eyes.

"No, no, no, no, no." He stumbled forward, tossing his bag to the foot of the bed as he sat down by your knees.

"I just...didn't think I could sit up long enough to do my makeup again," you said throatily—from unshed tears or unblown snot, he could not say.

"[Name], that's not what I—"

"I had only just taken everything off from going to the doctor, and I feel like crap, and now I look like crap, and I let you see me like this, and—"

Scott interrupted by picking up the hand you had resting nearest to him on the comforter. This he lifted to his lips in a swift kiss. Thankfully, this expression of concern worked more successfully than his last.

"You look like someone who doesn't feel their best. That's all I meant. Ah!"

"What?" you asked as Scott scrambled for the discarded bag.

"I brought your medicine. The sooner you take it, the sooner you'll start to feel better." All this he said while he rummaged through his things. He pulled the prescription bottle out of the mess with a vague noise of triumph. "Let me go get you something to drink it with."

He left the room in a hurry, more to give you time to compose yourself than any actual rush on his part. Already you had allowed him to see you without your makeup on for the very first time. The difference was striking enough without adding weeping to the mix—not upsetting, just obvious. Scott never asked why you preferred to be seen with your face fully "on," as you put it. But he knew it meant something that you'd let him see you so vulnerable that afternoon. Maybe it only meant that you felt terrible, but that was still something.

It took him a few minutes to find everything he needed in your kitchen. He grabbed an insulated cup with a lid from one cabinet, some fruit juice from the fridge, and filled the former with the latter. When he returned to your bedroom, he found you'd taken the opportunity, as expected, to clean up. Now you were pulling items one by one out of the paper bag.

"Is this all for me?" you asked.

Putting a coaster down on your bedside table and struggling with the childproofing on your medicine kept him too busy to reply for a bit. Then he looked up to see you staring at him, waiting for his answer.

"Huh? Oh, yeah! I tried to remember everything Maggie asked me to grab for Cassie. I figured it might help since you probably caught your bug from her when we took her out for dinner after her soccer match."

You eyed the VapoRub in your palm speculatively. "Thank you."

"Anything for the world's most beautiful woman, even when she's sick. But I know you'd rather get back to using lipstick sooner rather than later, so why don't you take your pill?"

He held out the cup and the medicine bottle. You rolled your eyes, smiling. After trading him the container of VapoRub for the drink, you gulped down some cold juice and knocked back a capsule.

"You know," Scott said as you swallowed, "I'd be a disaster at applying your eye shadow, but I could help you apply this if you wanted."

Was the noise you made in response because you inhaled juice or you stifled a laughed? "Scott, if you get any closer to me than you already have, you'll probably end up as sick as I am. You might already have caught it."

"So? Honestly, I could use the time off. You have no idea how much PTO I've accrued lately. Luis can be real taskmaster."

"He just wants X-Con to be successful." 

“He says get well soon, by the way. So do Dave and Kurt. Are you sure you want me to go back to them instead of staying here with you?”

He smiled sheepishly as you lifted your head to regard him down your noise. Then you finally relented: "I could use the company. But no doing my makeup for me! And I'll apply my own VapoRub, thank you very much." You plucked the container right from his hand before he could protest. Not that he intended to protest when he had a better idea.

"We can watch a movie together and order takeout. My treat."

"Mr. Moneybags over here," you said.

But you scooted over so that he could climb onto the bed and stretch out next to you. While he used the remove to scroll through options to find something you'd both enjoy, you snuggled up close to him.

"Scott," you murmured sleepily about twenty minutes into the film.

"Hm?"

"Thanks for coming to my rescue today."

"Anytime, [Name]. Anytime. Kind of the in the job description, right?"

"Superhero or boyfriend?"

"Both."