You had to admit that you had missed this side of George. During the war, he was always gone so you rarely saw him but now he was home with you. That was something you were extremely grateful for in that moment. You were sick as a dog. The entirety of the Revolution, you managed to stay well and safe. You'd had nothing more than a mere cold. Now that he was home, your body decided to punish you. Fortunately for you, George was an excellent caregiver.

"Really, George, you don't have to do this," you muttered, but he merely gave you that smile. The one he knew you melted for. The one that also said you weren't getting out of being pampered and taken care of. "I know I don't have to. I want to, my love. You were so strong while I was away and you always take care of me. Now it is my turn to return the favor. Whatever you need."

"What I need is for you to rest, George. And to stop worrying about me." He simply shook his head again and helped you lie down. "I shall return with tea in a short while." You rolled your eyes with a smile as he left the room, muttering about how he'd better get someone else to help or that tea would be ruined. George evidently heard you because he laughed outside the now closed door.

George spent the next three days caring for you. Anything you could even think about wanting or needing, George got it for you. Your only complaint was that you missed being close to him. It was your own doing as you made him sleep elsewhere while you were sick, but you still missed him holding you. And clearly he missed it as well. On the fourth night of your illness, after you had begun drifting off, you felt the bed move.

Your eyes flew open and you gasped until you noticed it was only your husband. "What are you doing?" He shushed you and held you close. "George, you will make yourself ill." He looked at you with a pout. "I have missed my wife. I no longer care if I catch your illness. I've only just got you back and now I've been unable to be close to you again."

His words made you swoon. To the outside world, he was General (now President) Washington. A leader of men and the strategic mind that lead them to victory. But to you, he was simply George. A loving, caring husband who did not always share what he felt, but when he did, it was tender words spoken softly between you. Gentle kisses to your forehead and slight squeezes to your hands. The George the world saw was a hero. The George you saw was so much more.

"Very well, but do not blame me when you feel as lowly as I have." George chuckled at your statement as he helped you settle back down. He climbed in next to you, his arms instantly finding you and pulling you toward him. You let out a little sigh of joy. George pressed another kiss to your forehead as you rested your head on his shoulder and chest. "Rest well, my love," he whispered before blowing out the light. You snuggled closer to him. He would most likely be sick come morning, but neither of you cared. In his arms, you felt safe. You felt warm and cared for you. Being in George's arms was being home.