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Today was supposed to be a date night for Prompto and Ignis. But when they wake up to find their sons sick with a stomach bug, they realise their day will be spent very differently than they planned.
Today was put on the calendar months ago, a day both Ignis and Prompto made sure to keep clear. Today was supposed to be a date night, something they haven’t had for a long time. it was all such a good idea; they would let the kids spend the night with Gladio’s family, and Prompto and Ignis could have a nice night out together.
However, in the relatively short time he has been a parent, Prompto has come to realise something.
Family life never goes to plan.
And today is no exception. Prompto gets up early, buzzing with thoughts of the delicious meal he and Iggy will have later, and heads into Sora and Roxas’ bedroom to wake them up for school. But as he draws the curtains and the sleepy boys groan, Prompto turns around and his chest aches.
His sons have fevers. His sons are sick.
Oh crap.
“Oh, hey guys, are you two feeling okay?” he asks, leaning over Sora’s bed and staring at his son.
Sora groans and screws his eyes up, pressing a hand to his stomach. “My tummy hurts real bad, Papa.” He stims frantically with his other hand, but the movements are slow as he rubs his thumb and finger together, skin slippery with sweat. “I feel really sick.”
Oh crap.
“Oh, it’s okay, buddy,” Prompto says, but it’s not.
He turns around and looks at Roxas, who is just as flushed but lies curled in a ball, grimacing.
“Papa, I think I’m gonna—” Roxas cuts himself off with a retch, before swallowing hard. He groans, face sallow despite the flush on his cheeks.
Well aware this might lead to puking, Prompto straightens up. “Just stay put, buddy. Be back in a minute.”
But as he tries to dart out of the room, Sora reaches out and grabs his arm.
“Please don’t go,” he whispers, tears in his eyes.
Great, so now he’s stuck here. As Prompto sits on the edge of Sora’s bed and holds his son’s sweaty hand, he tries to think of what to do. In the end, only one thing comes to him.
“I’m gonna yell, so mind your ears,” he says, before yelling, “IGGY!”
Despite the warning, Sora still flinches, and Prompto’s stomach twists. He knows from experience that sensory issues can get worse when sick.
“What on Earth is all this noise about?” Ignis says from out in the hallway, footsteps uneven with sleepiness. He hurries into the bedroom and stops. “What is going on in here?”
Of course; Iggy can’t see their feverish faces, but he can hear the boys’ shaky breathing and the nerves in Prompto’s voice.
“Oh dear,” he says. “Are you two unwell?”
“Daddy,” Sora whines, reaching out for Ignis. “Feel real bad, Daddy.”
Ignis places his hand on Sora’s forehead, wincing at the heat. “You’re burning up, you poor thing.”
Prompto takes the chance to run out of the room, needing to get a sick bowl for Roxas. In the kitchen, he locates a pair of large mixing bowls, which should do perfectly. He runs back up the stairs, bursting back into the room.
“Here you go, buddy,” he says, sitting next to Roxas and passing him a bowl. “If you need to puke, you can use this.”
“Prompto, please don’t tell me those are my expensive mixing bowls?” Ignis says.
When Prompto gives a sheepish chuckle, even their sick sons manage to giggle.
Ignis sighs. “Never mind. We can always buy more. Prompto, I’ll stay here and keep an eye on these two. Can you check on the others?”
“Oh yeah,” he mumbles. Their sons are very close and go to the same kindergarten, so it’s quite likely Ven and Vanitas are sick too.
Prompto darts out of the room, hurrying along the hallway. As he approaches the door, he hears muffled sobbing and voices. And as he puts his hand on the door, a very distinctive sound echoes around the room. A retch. Oh crap.
He pushes the door open, and finds Vanitas sat up in bed, hands clamped over his mouth. Ven has crawled into his brother’s bed, sniffling. And both shine with a fever, sweaty and dishevelled.
“Papa, Vani is—”
Vanitas retches and lets out a wet belch. His cheeks bulge, and he splutters.
“Papa!” Ven cries.
Prompto moves to snatch the other bowl from Sora, but he doesn’t even reach the doorway before Vanitas’ battle with his nausea wins. His son heaves, hard enough to make his eyes water, and vomit starts leaking from between his fingers.
“Eew, Vani, are you…?” Ven mumbles to his brother, nausea written across his face, but he doesn’t run away. In fact, he puts a hand on Vanitas’ back and starts rubbing as he sobs. “Poor Vani.”
Vomit runs down Vanitas’ chin and he splutters, hands clamped tighter over his mouth. And then his hands shift and he retches and he vomits violently, puking all over his bed sheets as he trembles.
“Crap!” Prompto says, darting over. It’s too late to stop now, so he just joins Ven in comforting Vanitas, rubbing his back as Vanitas throws up down himself. “Oh, it’s okay, buddy. You’ll feel better when you get it all up.”
Soon, Vanitas stops throwing up, but is left shaking and covered in his own puke. He sniffles, heat radiating off of him.
“You need a bath, Vani,” Prompto says. He bundles up the soiled sheets and pulls off Vanitas’ ruined top, and then picks up his son. “Come on, buddy. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
With the wobbly Ven following behind him, Promtpo heads towards the bathroom.
He spots Ignis coming out of the other bedroom with a bowl in his hands, and stops. “Hey, Iggy.”
Ignis’ nose twitches, and he steps closer, listening to Ven’s sobs and Vanitas’ sniffles. “I don’t even need to ask, do I? It seems all four of our sons have the same sickness.”
“Yeah, they sure do. And it sucks, right, guys?”
Yeah, and it means his and Ignis evening plans have been cancelled.
Part of Prompto is disappointed. But the rest of him just worries about his poor sick sons – and the sensible part of his mind knows that family life never goes the way you planned.