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Midnight Snack was no doctor, but one look at Pink Lemonade that morning and he knew he had to call one. Dr. Be Well had taken a few extra looks at Pink Lemonade while the mare had staunchly insisted on having hayfever and diagnosed get with a particularly powerful flu. All that was left was the inevitable soups and bed rest.

Midnight Snack said nothing. He knew the words "bed rest" really meant "fight of his life trying to keep PL in the vicinity of a bed". When he returned to the room with a tray of soup and some green healthful beverage Sunny D whipped up (so thoughtful!), he nearly tripped over his fiancée.

And he wasn't surprised.

Setting the tray down, Midnight knelt beside Pink Lemonade.

"Anyone home?" He said gently, putting a hoof to her forehead.

"Well," said Midnight, soothing. "You certainly look fine, and not like death warmed over or anything. Total fighting shape."

He outstretched a foreleg and caught her as she began to cough, supporting her until the fit subsided. "That's gonna look really fantastic at the restaurant. I made you some honey-milk, some soup, and Sunny D made you some green scary juice. You SURE some food wouldn't help you feel just a mite better?"

"There you go, my little fawn," said Midnight. Joking aside, her sickly appearance really did worry him. He fluffed her pillows and smoothed her hair out of her face and pressed a small kiss to her forehead. Only when he was sure she was comfortable did Midnight pull away, setting his tray down on the nightstand.

"Alright, love. Here we go. What smells like your stomach can take it? Honey-milk, green juice, or soup?" He wafted the scents of each one gently toward her, keeping a close look on her pallor as he did so. Good thing there was a little trash can set by the bed. You know. Just in case the food wasn't, er, wellness-inspiring.

"FP said proooobably a quiet day today at Cloud 9," hinted Midnight gently.

Midnight rose and put the other dishes over by the side table, to stay out of her range of smell. Hello what it was like being sick. It was no fun. And in their family, there was the extra added torture of not being able to do anything for Cloud 9. It hurt him to see poor, precious, hard-working, business-minded PL this way.

"Alrighty," he said, taking a bit of soup for her to taste. He smiled a lopsided, sympathetic smile. "Don't be a hero. It we need to do Gatorade and crackers, we will, sweet. No problem at all."

The soup, thankfully, was a touch bland for her sicky tummy, and had loads of puréed vegetables for extra nutrition. Mid just hoped they stayed down.

"Held it down! That's what every chef likes to see," cracked Midnight with a smile, dipping another spoonful into the bowl and holding it out for his lady love. He was a smart enough stallion to know what was bothering Pink Lemonade. He was ALSO smart enough to have prepared for such am eventuality.

"You'll be happy to know that after creepily ogling the hottest waitress in the world for such a long time, I have somewhat gotten her day's affairs in order. And after ascertaining that she does not, say, have pocket hours or a time machine to get so much done in one day, I split the chores up between me, FP, BC, and Sunny D." He paused there. "-- wait, is this the first time I'm realizing all our names rhyme? Are we a rap group?"

Shaking his head and continuing to feed PL slowly the soup, he continued. "So, you can sleep easy and dream of spreadsheets and business schemes and little ewe lambs. You are covered as well as can be, love."

Seeing a smile out of her warmed Midnight's heart. It was never fun to see a loved one sick, but Mid was positive she'd be well soon enough. Flu, shmu. Pink Lemonadw would kick the snot out of any poor virus that dared invade her immune system. She's be up and about on a jiffy.

"Watermelon juice, check. I'll put Sunny D on it, you'll get the best watermelon juice a mare ever had."

He set the mostly empty soup bowl aside and kissed her forehead. "Three days off. Let's get to work on sleeping, then."