Charlie/Wilson (Sick Day)
Charlie hummed as she walked through the quaint little camp. Everybody was fast asleep, aside from Wickerbottom of course. But she heard shuffling in the nearby wooden shack. She walked over, gently knocking on the door. "Wilson? What are you doing awake?" She pushed the door open, just to find the scientist pale faced and hunched over in his seat. He was reading formulas on the papers in front of him, mixing some of the plants that he found outside. "Wilson?" She repeated herself, pulling up a chair and sitting beside him. "You're so pale, are you doing okay?" She felt his forehead, pulling her hand away when she felt how warm he was. "My goodness, you're burning up! Come on, let's get you to bed"
As she picked him up, Wilson could only whine in protest, weakly trying to push her hands away. "I'm fine, Charlie, just a little under the weather. It's really nothing to worry about" He gave her a little smile, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes playfully. "Love, you're pale, feverish, and can barely keep your eyes open. Come on, it's clearly time for bed" As she carried him off to her tent, Maxwell got up and walked beside him. "Higgsbury, if you get me, or any of us sick, I won't hesitate to throw you to the hounds" He hissed.
"Maxwell, behave" Charlie said, biting her tongue to save face. "I'll take care of him, and you can mind your own damn business, you don't control this realm anymore. You aren't even the leader of this camp"
Woodie saw the three talking, pulling open the flap of Wilson's tent to save Charlie the trouble. "Thank you Woodie, now Wilson, you're going to get sleep. And tomorrow, you won't be gathering supplies. You're not feeling well, and if you don't rest you won't recover properly"
"Fine, but as long as you stay with me" Wilson mumbled, clinging to Charlie now.
"Of course, love"