Meg smiled. She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against his forehead, feeling the slight sheen of sweat on his skin and lingering close to him for a moment longer than was strictly necessary.
"Good enough for you?" she asked, amused. "Look at you, Clarence. You make deals with demons now."
With deliberate slowness, she pealed the safety seal off the top of the bottle of Nyquil, freeing the tiny portion cup. She unscrewed the cap and, carefully, filled the little cup to the top line. Setting the bottle aside, she held it up where he could see it. The smell was cloying and, mixed with the sharp reek of vapo rub, was a bit overwhelming to the senses. She hoped it worked as well as she'd been promised it would.
"My question," she started, "and you have to answer honestly..." her smiled faltered a bit, suddenly unsure. Maybe she hadn't quite thought this out enough, but she was in too far to pull back now. She'd been so afraid of everything between them, and she could admit that now. It wasn't discomfort. It wasn't annoyance. It was fear, plain and simple. Fear that eventually he would look at her, see her face, her real face, and turn away.
"What am I to you?" she asked, adding as an afterthought, "and if you call me your caretaker I will pour this shit down the toilet." She'd meant to ask a more specific question, but couldn't. She didn't know if he would give her the answer she wanted, she'd been deliberately vague. She'd wanted to ask what she meant to him, but it was too close to home, because she didn't entirely know what he meant to her. She was beginning to realize that he had slowly grown to encompass her world. He was becoming everything in her life, and it terrified her. Not only did it bring out that desire to run away, but it gave her a previously unrealized fear...that he wouldn't feel the same.