In Sickness

by Mary Crawford
Author's notes: For Rusalka, who had a bad cold. Feedback will be treasured.

"Ah-choo! ...Gah. Kill me now." Hercules dabbed at his nose with a strip of linen, scowling.

Iolaus patted his shoulder. "Sorry, Herc. Don't have the Hind's blood dagger handy. Here, have some tea instead."

"Oh, that's great. More disgusting tea."

Iolaus grinned. "You really hate being sick, don't you? Zeus knows it's a rare thing, with you. Must have been swimming around in all that cold water that did it."

"Next time," Hercules said darkly, "You can be the one who gets eaten by the sea serpent."

"Nah, you know they like you best. Here, move over, I warmed up a rock for you to sit on."

Hercules shuffled over, moving like a grumpy bear, and as he sat down Iolaus whispered in his ear, "When you have to sneeze again, turn around and aim left."

It didn't take long. "Ah-CHOO!"

Iolaus stood up and peered behind a bush. "Yeah, that's done it, he's out cold."

Hercules eyed him blearily. "He?"

Iolaus shrugged. "Some guy, creeping up behind us. You didn't hear him?"

"No. My head feels like it's been stuffed with hydra dung."

"Is that new?" Iolaus inquired innocently, and grinned at Hercules' glare.

"Ah-CHOO!"

"Oh, wonderful. Now you've blown out the fire. Try to aim the other way a bit, will you?" Iolaus sighed. There was nothing more inconvenient than a demigod with a head cold.
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