Logan led them out of the med lab and into the elevator. Once they'd reached the first floor, he realized he had no idea where he was going. His entire sense of direction was thrown off by his stuffed nose. He couldn't just follow the kitchen scents like he had before.

"Ok, kid. *Cough, cough* Lead the way."

"Keep it down. We don't want the whole house knowing we're up," Jubilee chastized, then began to cough herself.

With an apologetic look, she pointed the way and they stumbled down the halls and into the kitchen like a drunken parade.

'Ok,' Jubes thought, looking through the fridge. 'Something that won't make me gag.'

"Ah ha!" Logan proclaimed, pulling out a six-pack. "Beer."

"Doncha think you should kinda wait on that until you're not puking every few hours?"

"Hey, I've got a sore throat and a cold beer will really help."

Jubes ignored him, continuing, "And getting drunk sure won't help your walking any. You can barely stay on your feet anyway. If you think I'm dragging your sorry butt back down to the med lab, then..."

"Ok, ok. I'll wait on the beer,"

Logan continued to look through the fridge, but he kept picking things like the steak and potatoes with sour cream that were left over from dinner.

'This guy has no idea how to eat with the flu,' Jubilee thought.

After digging around the kitchen, opening and shutting cupboards, and generally making all sorts of racket, and after Jubilee had basically commandeered the food selection responsibilities, they'd finally decided on their menu.

Six packs of Ginger ale and Coke, guaranteed by Jubilee to calm upset stomaches; Jello with whipped cream left over from dinner and a jar of cold applesauce, both very easy on sore throats; a loaf of bread, plain and boring, but it didn't make either of them queezy; and a new supply of popsicles.

"I'm starving, kid. I'm not sure this is enough."

"Trust someone who's been sick before. You'll be full alot sooner than you'd expect."

They finally made it back to the Med Lab quarantine room unnoticed. Logan used the torn sheet as a picnic blanket and placed it on the floor by the beds. They placed their "prey" between them and stared at the food for a few seconds.

"The're meltin', kid." noticed Logan, pointing at the popsicles.

"Argh! I'll put them in the med fridge." Which she did then sat back in front of the food. She grabed a can of Coke and took a cautious sip. No side effects. She picked up the bowl of Jello and decided to try some.

Logan opted for the bread and applesauce.

They sat and ate for a few minutes, all cautious as to the way their stomachs were reacting. Jubilee discarded the Jello and eyed the bread.

"Mine," he growled.

"All right! Anyway, all this stuff is absolutly tasteless! I'll try a popsicle."

After they had enough (and Jubilee was right, they had plenty and still too much), they stared in silence at the leftovers.

"You know... we should like, hide it somewhere? If Dr. Grey sees it, we're like dead. 'Sides, we might need it later." suggested Jubilee.

"That's the smartest thing I've ever heard you say."

"Hey, I beat you at it!"

The bickering continued, then turned into strategic-like discussion on the best spots to hide the provisions. Of course, the 4 remaining popsicles had to be kept in the med fridge. Same for the Jello. Coke and Ginger ale cans had to be hidden in the toilet reservoir. The bread got hidden under Jubilee's bed while the applesauce pot had been put in the plastic pan (which Jubilee made sure hadn't been used by Logan).

Logan managed to hide one half of the cut sheet under his pillow while Jubilee took charge of the other part.

"I think I'll have a nap before breakfast." announced Jubilee. Their little expedition to the kitchen had exahusted her.

Logan felt just the same and didn't argue. For once in a long time, he felt very sleepy. He laid back on his mattress and closed his eyes.

"Sleep well, Yogi-Bear."

"Can it."

Forty-five minutes later, Logan woke, sweaty and nauseous. He could hear Jubilee snoring lightly through her stuffy nose, peacefully asleep.

'Why did I have to eat all that bread?' he chastized himself. 'Should've stuck to the lighter foods like Jubes.'

Now he had to throw up again. For someone who'd never puked in his remembered life, he was sure learning to hate the sensation. How did all those supermodels do it? Why would anyone want to do this on purpose?

In fact, he was willing to pay quite handsomely right now if someone would come along and just throw up for him. He would stay in bed and just suddenly feel better while someone else took the abuse. That's the way it would be in a perfect world. Of course, it wasn't a perfect world, and as he lay there coughing, he felt it would just be better if he got up and got it over with.

Dragging himself into the bathroom, he made his way to the can, only to find that he couldn't do it. Now that he was here, it wouldn't come. Of course, as soon as he went and lied back down again, he'd feel different, so he stayed, resting his head on the cold porceline.

That's how Jean found him, sound asleep, when she came to check on her patients that morning.

Jean debated with herself. On one hand, she was a doctor and she'd sworn a hypocratic oath. On the other hand, it would be a great way to calm the surly patient down. 'And if I can get him to calm down and stay in bed, then he'll get better faster.' The thought, 'And he'll be out of my hair faster,' lingered in her mind. With decisive movements, Jean pulled out the one-time use polaroid camera and snapped a picture.

Logan slept on, his fingers curled around the seat of the toilet as a child might hold onto a favorite blankey.

'It really is an endearing picture. Maybe I'll show Rogue before Logan makes me burn it.' Jean smiled impishly and tucked the camera, with its endearing picture, into her labcoat.

That done, Jean moved to the sleeping man and lightly rubbed his shoulder. "Logan, wake up. Let's get you back into the bed."

Logan whimpered and brought the back of his hand up to his cheek to rub, his eyes squinting shut with the determination of a teen hoping for 'Just five more minutes, Mom'. Jean bit back the 'Awwww.' reflex.

"Logan, to bed. It'll be warmer."

The cajoling words seemed to penetrate the older man's deep sleep. He blinked up with bleary eyes, yawned, wrinkled his nose, and snuffled. "'Time is it?"

"Almost breakfast. I came down to ask if you guys thought you could keep a little oatmeal down." Jean smiled very reassuringly as she helped Logan up and got him to stagger back to his bed on the floor.

Logan just kinda tumbled onto the bed, seemingly thankful that it wasn't something he had to climb into. Climbing into a bed was just too much to handle right now. "I can eat." '...I think.'

"Need tissues." The petulant voice sounded from a rather tall lump on the bed one over.

Jean crossed the room and brought over a box of fresh Kleenex. "Here you go, Jubilee." A noncommital snuffle and a hand reaching for a tissue was her only answer.

Trying very hard not to smile, Jean reached over and patted the high point of the lump, where she expected Jubilee's head to be. The lump on the bed jumped and a head peeked out from under the sheets. "I'll thank you kindly to not touch m'butt, Dr. Grey." Jubilee's voice and expression contained shards of ice.

Jean blinked, her mouth dropping open in shock. "But..."

The blankets slid off of Jubilee's back to reveal Jubilee's odd sleeping position. She seemed to be on her knees, her arms curled under her body, and if Jean thought about it, she could see that the top of Jubilee's head had been flat on the mattress.

A snort came from Logan's bed.

Jean blinked some more.

Jubilee declared, "I'll eat oatmeal. With raisins. And Sprite. Thanks." Glaring further still, Jubilee grabbed the blanket's edge and pulled it back over her head.

Logan glared down at the bowl of oatmeal, seemingly saying, 'You don't hurt me, and I won't hurt you.'

He hadn't actually lost the bread he'd eaten in the wee hours of the morning, so he must be getting better, but he didn't want to push it. He took a small spoonful of the pastey substance and placed it in his mouth. It tasted like... well... hmm... it was actually tasteless. Plain, dull, and boring, but his stomach didn't complain. Of course, it hadn't complained until later before. He decided to focus on the Sprite he'd been given and not risk too much on the oatmeal. It was sweeter than he usually liked, and bubbly, but his stomach felt better for it.

Peeking around the divider, he could see Jubilee must be feeling much better. She was devouring her oatmeal with ravenous glee. Of course, she was sniffling, snorting, and blowing her nose all the way through the meal. He saw her sneeze once, with her mouth full of oatmeal. She obviously didn't want to sneeze it across the room, so she'd kept her mouth shut. The way her eyes bulged made him laugh so hard he coughed and choked for a full minute. Jean had come rushing in at his loud sounds of distress, but he couldn't catch a breath to tell her what had happened. Jubilee just gave him a deep scowl and went on with her breakfast.

He'd been napping through the morning, making up for his tiring kitchen excursion and uncomfortable porceline nap, when a shoe landed on his head and he shot up, instinctively slashing it to ribbons.

"Finally, you're awake."

"What'd you do that for?"

"You were snoring."

"What?"

"Snoring. I swear, it was so loud you had the school's foundation rattling."

Logan sat up, ready to defend his noctural breathing abilities, when he realized his nose had betrayed him. "What the *$^@&$*!?!"

"What?"

"My nose!"

Jubilee looked around the screen at the sniffling Wolverine. "Here, take some Kleenex," she said, tossing him a box. "Blow your nose."

"Uh... how?"

At her unbelieving expression, he added, "Hey, gimme a break. I've never been sick before."

"Ok, hold the Kleenex to your nose like so," Jubilee said, demonstrating with a tissue of her own. "Then close your mouth and blow out through your nose."

Logan did as he was told. "OW! My ears!"

"You don't blow that hard!" Jubilee instructed. "Try it again. Gently."