You wake up to the sun streaming across your face. It makes you feel incredibly warm. You open your eyes, yawn a little, and smile at your sleeping boyfriend. The sunlight cross his face in a slant; it turns his hair golden and makes his pale face seem bright.

His hair is still damp from his shower the night before--and seeing him in his towel was a sight you'll never forget. Even after showering, even now, you can still smell the scent of the outdoors on him, a constant reminder of how hard he works.

You breathe easily and watch his eyelashes flutter as he continues dreaming. His lips are closed, very slightly turned up at the left in what you believe is a smile. You wonder, maybe he's dreaming about you.

You watch as his chest falls up and down easily, and you notice a sweat stain at the center of the collar, dripping down. You realize the warmth you are feeling is coming from his body, and as you touch his arm, his skin has a strange burn to it.

As you're wondering what to do, he begins to stir. This quickly escalates, and he is taking deep, wheezing breaths, moving his head. He moans, a pained, panicking sound you have heard before, in his nightmares.

"Newt," you say quickly, shaking his arm the way you always do to wake him up. "Newt!"

His eyes fly open, and for a moment he just looks at the ceiling as he tries to steady his breath. A slight layer of sweat has broken out on his forehead, the sunlight reflecting off the sheen. When he turns to look at you, his eyes are bright.

"Dream," he whispered. "It started out so good."

"What was it about?"

He shook his head weakly. "You,"

"And?"

"And me." He gave you a small smile that made those familiar butterflies return to your stomach.

His eyes welled with tears now, and you placed your hand on his chest for comfort.

"A bugging Griever got you." He croaked. "You . . . my arms. . . nobody listened to me, and they said you had to go back into the maze if you lived."

"I'm right here, Im alive. You can't get rid of me that easily." You smile, but he doesn't return it.

"I don't want to get rid of you." He protested, seemingly not realizing your joke.

"And I'm glad for that," You smile and gently peck his lips. You know that he isn't feeling well, but at the moment your main concern is to help him feel better. You aren't too worried about getting sick--you have a strong immune system. Besides, your boyfriend needs you.

"I'm glad you're here," he murmurs, and your heart twists a little at the weak voice and the slight slur.

The heat radiating from his body is uncomfortable, and you prop yourself up on your elbow to study him further.

"You're warm," you whisper, placing a hand gently on his forehead, then his flushed cheek. You can't understand how you had missed these factors just minutes ago.

"I don't feel too hot, love." His voice was a whisper, and you got the feeling that his throat was protesting the use of his voice--despite how cute and British it may be.

"You have a fever," you keep your voice down, hoping it sounds gentle and not too much like a worried mom. Though you know Newt has no memory of a mother, you both have heard stories of parents babying sick children, and you aren't sure he wants to be coddled.

"My head bloody hurts," his expression showed pain, though you knew it was only obvious to you. If it were someone else he would have hidden it.

You kissed his left temple, his skin a burning sensation to your lips, and you begin to massage both temples. He whimpers slight and sort of melts into your touch, a feeling that in other circumstances would feel nice but now makes your heart hurt. You don't know if it's sympathy or simply seeing someone you care for in such a vulnerable position.

"How does that feel?" You finally whisper, aware that his eyes have closed but knowing he is still awake.

"Better, but it still hurts." He whispered. "I don't think you'll be able to stop it, love."

"No, but I can try to help." You kissed his nose, and he smiled. It was small and close-lipped, but a smile.

"I don't feel very well at all, love." His whisper was hoarse. "My stomach hurts, too."

"I'll get you some water, it might settle it." You suggest, and he nods as he closes his eyes again.

As you're coming back you hear him retching, and as you enter the room he comes limping back to the bed. As you lay down beside him you can smell toothpaste on his breath.

You give him a sad smile and hand him the water glass; he only takes a few sips before handing it back, and you place it on the small table by your side of the bed.

"How's your stomach?" You ask hesitantly.

He makes a face. "Better now I suppose."

You frown and absently stroke his hair. "Your shirt's all sweaty."

He grinned weakly. "Sure you just don't want a free show?"

You giggle, then slowly pull his damp shirt over his head. He isn't the most muscular guy you'll see, but it's enough for you.

You run your hand up and down his torso and gently rub his stomach.

"That feels nice, love." He murmurs. He seems drowsy, and you see him struggling to keep his eyes open. His lashes brush against his skin before lifting up again.

"You should sleep," You murmur, your lips brushing his ear in just the way he likes.

"My head hurts," he whined a little, but you saw his eyes getting heavier.

"What if I do this?" You suggest, rubbing his temples again with your fingertips.

He sighed, sounding content. "That's a lot better actually."

"Aren't you glad you have me for a nurse?" You tease.

"Maybe if you had one of those cute little nurse costumes, yeah."

You knew Newt was joking, and you playfully slapped his arm, causing a laugh to escape the boy's lips.

"You're bloody fabulous; you know that, love?" His voice brings those butterflies back again. They only grew stronger when he turned his head to face you, leaving your noses a centimeter away.

After a moment though, he kisses your forehead and faces the ceiling again, and you know it's because he's worried of getting you sick. You giggle and kiss his head where you had previously been rubbing, and you feel his fingers find yours under the blanket.

"Really though, I am glad." He said, and again his words slurred a bit, an affect of his exhaustion and something you had always found rather cute.

"I love you," you whisper suddenly.

This is the first time you have ever said such a thing to him, and he doesn't respond for a few moments, causing you to worry he does not feel the same way.

"Did you say you love me?" He asked slowly. "I think that's what I heard, but . . . I'm sorry, love, my ears are ringing."

"I love you, Newt." You say again, and now his eyes meet yours.

"Are you bloody serious?" He asked, though he doesn't sound mad.

You nod, hoping he'll say something more original than 'bloody' this time.

"I bloody love you too, love." He whispers, and you giggle a bit as you wonder if he knows how strange the sentence sounded.

The next thing you know he's kissing you, and you're so shocked by this that it takes a moment for you to close your eyes.

"Aw, shuck, I'm a bloody idiot, I am." He cursed as he pulled back. "You'll get sick now."

"That's okay with me," You say with a slight shrug.

You want to kiss him again, but his eyes are slightly red-rimmed now, and very heavy. He clearly needed sleep, but you knew he wouldn't say so after having just kissed you.

"Get some sleep," You say finally, placing a hand on his bare chest as you tuck your head into him. The feel and the sound of his heartbeat made you feel peaceful. "I'll be here when you you wake up."

Newt smiled at you gratefully and wrapped his arm tightly around you. It gave you a sense of warmth, one not caused from his fever.

Soon, his eyelashes fluttered and his eyes closed; his breaths evened out, and you lay listening to his beating heart for just a few more moments before finally falling asleep yourself. The last thing you saw before entering dream world was his little smile as he slept.