User blog:Songbird341/I'm Not Sick - Menie fic

 I'm Not Sick 

A Menie Fanfic (Matt/Genie)

I walk through the doors of Hollywood Arts, glancing around the hallways for Sikowitz. I need to talk to him about my assignment; in which I am supposed to kiss one of two girls that are not my girlfriend. When I had told Genie, she was obviously not very happy, but being the darn-stubborn girl she is, she pretended not to mind. I know I have to fix it, even though she really owes me for making me come to her family's dinner, where I was HIT INTHE EYE with a GOLF BALL!

No seriously. Her dad took out a 5-iron and got a hole-in-one. IN MY EYE!

But seeing as she threw a vase at me, I'd rather not make her more angry. Don't ask why she threw it... She just did. She's impulsive like that. But I love her spontaneous personality. I'm, ah, never bored.

I can't manage to find the barefooted coconut-loving acting teacher (that's a mouthful), but I do come across something interesting. Genie is pitifully sniffing as she walks down the corridor, taking a few seconds to slow down and stifle a sneeze and a couple coughs. She's clearly sick. Oh, this is gonna be fun...

She has been sick for a few days, claiming she was fine, and now it's escalated into much worse than the common cold. I wouldn't be surprised if she had a fever at the moment. It's about time someone settled this and made her rest. She won't otherwise.

But she never confesses she's sick. Only one way to get that out of her. Trickery.

I walk up to her and sling an arm around her shoulder. “Hey Geens. Happy Friday!” I lean down, expecting but not-really-expecting a kiss, and I'm not surprised when she pulls back. “Hey, what's that about?”

She looks down, avoiding my eyes. “Nothing,” she almost-whispers in a raspy voice.

I shake my head. “Are you feeling okay?”

She meets my gaze, a playful sparkle in her eye. “You ask me if I'm okay because I don't wanna kiss you?”

“ Why else would you avoid a kiss?” I challenge her.

She smiles darkly. “Maybe I just don't like your kisses.”

Curse her pride.

I smirk humorlessly. “Yeah, yeah, very funny.” She continues laughing, and there lies her mistake, for amongst the giggles a cough erupts, followed by two more, and finally, a sneeze. Gotcha.

She looks back up at me shamefully and comes out and says it. “I'm not sick.”

“Yes you are!” I chuckle.

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“What's the problem here?”

We both turn around and find the new girl, Mara, staring up at us curiously. When did she get here?

Genie looks at me fiercely, the glimmer of humor vanishing from her eyes, and her competitive personality begins to shine through. She turns to (poor, unexpecting) Mara and asks, “Do I sound”-cough-“sick?”

Though it is broken between coughs, the sentence sounds frightening enough to scare Jade away (maybe). Mara looks between me and Genie, her eyes widen, and she has enough sense to turn on her heels and run like the wind.

I turn to Genie, stare triumphantly for a second, and grab her wrist. “Come on, let's take you home.”

She rips her hand away from my grasp. “I told you, I'm not sick!” I wince when her voice cracks.

I look at her seriously. “Seriously. I'm taking you home.” I reach out, but she yanks her hand away from me. I grab it from behind her with one hand and hold her at the waist with the other. I have her stuck, and she can't move, though she's trying with every muscle in her body. Defeated, she sighs and stops pulling away.

I sigh. “Good. Let's go.” I lead her to the door, and she willingly follows. But when we reach the door, she pushes past me and walks in front, mumbling “I'm not sick.”

I laugh when she's far enough ahead, until I realize she picked the car keys off me. No telling how far she'll drive away if I don't catch her.

“Shoot!” I run after her.

After wrangling an oh-so-defiant girlfriend of mine into her house, I set my stuff on her counter and walk into the living room. She's sitting on the long black couch, her arms crossed angrily, sticking her lower lip out slightly in her own subconsciously-pouty way. I hope no one will ever tell her she does that, because she'd immediately force herself to stop doing it, and I think it's adorable.

She looks up at me grouchily and grumbles, “I should be at school right now.”

I chuckle. “So should I. But I'm sacrificing my perfect-attendance record for you, so you should be grateful.” I sit down next to her and put a hand on her forehead. Blazing hot.

She dropped her jaw in mock-shock, then giggled. “You don't have a perfect-attendance record! You yourself told me about the time you and your 3rd-grade friends ditched one day and your mom called the police when you weren't there to be picked up?”

“You know, you're funny.” I glance at my burning hand. “And you have a fever.”

Her mouth opens, ready to spew some kind of retort at me, but only a cough makes it out. “I”-cough-“do not!”

I grab a thermometer from the bathroom cabinet across the hall, and return. “Put it in your mouth.” She shakes her head.

“I don't have a-” She is interrupted when I stick it in her mouth myself.

I pull it out and read it. “102 degrees, sweetheart. You have a fever.” She drops her head and lets her hair hang around it, covering her face. I wrap an arm around her and give her a squeeze. “It's okay. I'll stick around 'til your parents come home.”

She attempts to laugh, but ends up coughing a few times. “Just because you're afraid of my dad.”

“Am not!”

“Please?”

“I do not need to sleep! I have school projects to work on!”

I lay my hands on her shoulder and guide her to her bedroom. “You gotta rest if you wanna get better.”

“Oh what, so now you're my mother?” She snaps bitterly. I bite my lip and manage to get her under her covers and willing to rest.

I can tell she's getting tired, because she's becoming loopy. I think I even hear her say, “Matt, I'm not sick I just WHOA kangaroo boxing a princess” and giggle. She doesn't do that often.

I give her some medicine and sit across the room as she drifts into a peaceful sleep. When she finally settles down, I can't help smiling. She's so... cute when she's asleep. I mean, I love her when she's awake and lively and such, but it's nice to catch quiet moments like these, where she's simply lying there and I can just look at her and smile.

I begin to whisper to her, even though she can't hear me. “Y'know, people tell me that we're crazy. That our personalities just don't work out and that we don't really love each other like we should. But that's not true.”

“I hope you know that, even though we argue all the time, I really do care about you. Obviously, or else I wouldn't be here right now. But I don't care that your dad hates me; and right now, you'd interrupt and say he doesn't, which is a lie; or that we always fight or make stupid bets and end up owing each other money; you owe me $5 by the way, but you're sick, so I'll let it slide; I still think we're perfect for each other.” I smile. “Well, as perfect as a couple of crazies can be.”

I look at her for a second, stand up, and walk out the door.

Little did I know that she'd heard every word.

DAH END

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