Waking up with a naked Nyota in his arms on Tuesday morning had been one of those moments he was sure he'd remember for the rest of his life. She'd been tucked closely against his side, and he'd spent long minutes just watching her sleep, the way her hair fanned out over his pillow, the tiny, contented smile that curled her lips upwards even in sleep. How he'd ever been lucky enough to not only find her, but be lucky enough to have her love him back was something he didn't think he'd ever fully understand. It had been difficult to say goodbye, and he'd wanted nothing more than just stay in bed with her all day, but they both knew she had to get back to her family, and he had to go do some damage control at the studio. It would be days before they saw each other again, and a whole week before he got to have her in his arms again. It wasn't quite as hard to say goodbye as it had been on Christmas, because this time, he knew it wouldn't be the last time they were together.
When he'd arrived at the studio, Doris has pulled him into her office immediately. Apparently, Mrs. Lydecker had called her the day before and had more than a few unpleasant things to say about Jim, concluding her tirade with telling Mrs. Miller that she was taking her money elsewhere. Jim had fixed his boss with a slightly incredulous, defiant look and calmly stated that they both knew he hadn't been the aggressor with Mrs. Lydecker, or in any other instances, and firmly reminded her that he was a dance instructor, not a gigolo. He'd also reminded her that peddling flesh was a criminal offense, and that she was more than welcome to fire him if that's what she expected her teachers to be a part of. It would be a breach of his contract, it would be illegal, and he'd have absolutely zero compunctions about taking legal action against her. It had been incredibly satisfying to see her gaping like a fish and tell him he had a class to teach and that teaching was in his contract.
The last couple of days had apparently been more taxing than he'd realized, because when he got home, he was so tired he went straight to bed, and slept until it his alarm rang the next morning. And even then, he felt like he'd been run over by a Sherman tank. But he pulled himself together and made it through another day at the studio despite his sneaking suspicions that he was maybe just a little feverish. He'd gotten to tell Doris off, and he really didn't want to jeopardize his job any more than strictly necessary. Thursday, however, there had been no doubt in his mind about what was going on, and it had been impossible for him to deny that okay, so maybe he really was getting sick. Doris hadn't been pleased, but even she could tell by the sound of his voice that he wasn't in any condition to spend a day on the dance floor.
He'd tried to make it to the diner that night, grateful for the scarf and gloves Nyota had given him, but when he nearly hacked up a lung in the subway when he tried to answer someone who asked him for the time, he'd had to admit defeat. By the time he'd made his way home again, he was shivering, and had only managed a brief call to Mr. Uhura before he'd passed out on the bed.
The sound of his doorbell slowly filtered through his fevered dreams, and he was more than a little disoriented as he made his way to the door, idly noticing that he still had all his outerwear on. Oh well, at least he'd had the presence of mind to take off his boots. A weak smile tugged at his lips when he saw Nyota on the other side of the door, and he croaked out a "Hey..." before stepping aside to let her enter. "Wha-- what are you doing here?"
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When he'd arrived at the studio, Doris has pulled him into her office immediately. Apparently, Mrs. Lydecker had called her the day before and had more than a few unpleasant things to say about Jim, concluding her tirade with telling Mrs. Miller that she was taking her money elsewhere. Jim had fixed his boss with a slightly incredulous, defiant look and calmly stated that they both knew he hadn't been the aggressor with Mrs. Lydecker, or in any other instances, and firmly reminded her that he was a dance instructor, not a gigolo. He'd also reminded her that peddling flesh was a criminal offense, and that she was more than welcome to fire him if that's what she expected her teachers to be a part of. It would be a breach of his contract, it would be illegal, and he'd have absolutely zero compunctions about taking legal action against her. It had been incredibly satisfying to see her gaping like a fish and tell him he had a class to teach and that teaching was in his contract.
The last couple of days had apparently been more taxing than he'd realized, because when he got home, he was so tired he went straight to bed, and slept until it his alarm rang the next morning. And even then, he felt like he'd been run over by a Sherman tank. But he pulled himself together and made it through another day at the studio despite his sneaking suspicions that he was maybe just a little feverish. He'd gotten to tell Doris off, and he really didn't want to jeopardize his job any more than strictly necessary. Thursday, however, there had been no doubt in his mind about what was going on, and it had been impossible for him to deny that okay, so maybe he really was getting sick. Doris hadn't been pleased, but even she could tell by the sound of his voice that he wasn't in any condition to spend a day on the dance floor.
He'd tried to make it to the diner that night, grateful for the scarf and gloves Nyota had given him, but when he nearly hacked up a lung in the subway when he tried to answer someone who asked him for the time, he'd had to admit defeat. By the time he'd made his way home again, he was shivering, and had only managed a brief call to Mr. Uhura before he'd passed out on the bed.
The sound of his doorbell slowly filtered through his fevered dreams, and he was more than a little disoriented as he made his way to the door, idly noticing that he still had all his outerwear on. Oh well, at least he'd had the presence of mind to take off his boots. A weak smile tugged at his lips when he saw Nyota on the other side of the door, and he croaked out a "Hey..." before stepping aside to let her enter. "Wha-- what are you doing here?"