Jim x Dwight One Shots

Sick Dwight

Dwight K. Schrute did not get sick. 

He did not call in sick. 

He definitely did not miss a certain salesman when he was sick. 

So far Dwight had contradicted all of these things and did the opposite of what he had known and convinced himself was true all along.

"Jim Halpert" came Jim's voice, slightly tired Dwight noted. Had Jim stayed up late or had he woken up early? Dwight wondered. 

"Hello?" Jim's voice asked, breaking Dwight's hazy train of thoughts. 

"Jim, I think I took too much flu medicine" Dwight said, loopy as he spoke into the phone. 

"Dwight?" Jim asked, suddenly perking up as he heard the other salesman's voice. "Dwight? What's going on, why aren't you here" he asked, shoulders scrunched up to his neck as he waited for Dwight's response. 

"I got sick. A high fever" Dwight said with a giggle. "And then I remember drinking some medicine and now I-- I just miss you James Halpert" Dwight said, slumping down his couch as he talked. 

Jim sat frozen in place, telephone cradled to his ear as he slumped back into his chair. "D-Dwight, you don't miss me" Jim said, chuckling awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"Dwight does" Dwight said, laughing into the phone. 

Jim pursed his lips as he tried not to smile too widely, ducking his head down. "You are beyond drugged from flu medicine." 

"I am" Dwight agreed.

"You sounded tired" Dwight told him, remembering how Jim sounded earlier. 

"The game went on late last night" Jim told him. 

"Oh the game? Jock Jim was up watching the game" Dwight replied, laughing to himself. 

"I am not a jock" Jim complained, running his hand through his hair. 

"Mhm" Dwight said unconvinced. 

Before Jim could refute the statement once again, he heard a loud thump from the other side of the line. 

"Dwight?" Jim asked, voice raised in worry. 

"Mm fine" Dwight grumbled, clutching his shoulder with one hand. 

"I fell off the couch" he told Jim, with a lopsided grin to his wall. 

"Dwight" Jim said, sighing in relief, but also laughing into the phone. 

"I'm coming over. You obviously are unable to handle flu medicine at all" Jim told him, already grabbing his stuff and shrugging his coat on. 

"You don't have to" Dwight tried to say, but couldn't help how warm he felt all over from the thought of Jim coming over to take care of him. Although that may have been his fever returning. 

"Dwight?" Jim called out, frowning at the opened door he entered through, looking at the well lived area. 

"In here" came Dwight's voice. 

"Dwight, you look awful" Jim said, stifling a laugh, as he looked at a red face, skin glistened, hair in complete disarray Dwight Kurt Schrute seated on the floor. 

"You look awful" Dwight mimicked, reaching his hand up and beckoning Jim closer. 

"Not very nice to say that to your guest" Jim said, nudging Dwight's shoulder as he sat himself down onto the floor next to him.

"You invited yourself" Dwight pointed out, head tipping dangerously. 

Jim smiled over to Dwight, moving down a little so that Dwight could rest his head on his shoulder. 

Jim pressed his hand on Dwight's forehead and neck, hoping that his cooler fingers would cool down Dwight. 

"Have you checked your temperature recently?" Jim asked, but he got no response and instead saw an asleep Dwight resting on his shoulder. 

Jim smiled at the sight, lacing his hands through Dwight's damp hair. 

3 Days Later: 

"I can't believe you got me sick" Jim grumbled, allowing himself to be tucked into bed and hand fed soup.

"You're the idiot that came over when I was sick" Dwight said, but soothed a hand over Jim's cheekbone.

Jim gave Dwight a wide grin, before shivering and cuddling further into his blankets.