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“Jon?”
At his wife’s murmured entreaty, he merely grunted, unable to peel his gritty eyes open.
“Are you getting up?”
After a long, pathetic groan, he finally blinked his eyes open, only to snap them shut again. Bloody hell. Even the dim light of the bedside lamp was too fucking bright. “Wha’ time izzit?”
“Five. You slept through the alarm.”
“Ngh.” Normally, he got up with Daenerys when her alarm went off at 4:30 a.m. to exercise—her for a run around the neighborhood, and him downstairs to their home gym to lift weights and kick the punching bag around. Because the girls normally came tearing out of their room around six, they had to get their workouts in before then.
But he felt like shit; his whole body ached, and his head was foggy, like he hadn’t slept at all. “Don’t think so. Feel like I’ve been kicked around by a fucking horse.”
“Are you sick?” she asked, pressing a hand to his forehead. “You do feel kind of warm. You probably got what the girls had last week.”
“Ugh,” he groaned. “I always get sick. Why don’t you ever get sick?”
He didn’t have to look at her to know she was smiling smugly. “Superior Targaryen genes, obviously.” The bed shifted as she stood. “Just go back to sleep for now. I’m going to take Ghost for a run.”
He cracked his eyes open at that. “Be careful.” He always hated the idea of her out there running alone before the sun was even up; they used to run together, before they had the girls, but it wasn’t possible for them to leave three kids under the age of 10 alone in the house. Now, he trusted Ghost to take care of her in his stead. That, and she always ran with a set of Valyrian steel knuckles her brother Rhaegar gave her—a gift for passing the bar. “Wake me up when you get back. I’ll help with the girls.”
“Don’t push yourself. You don’t have to be Super Dad all the time.” She leaned down to press her lips to his forehead, and his eyes drifted shut.
“Love you,” he murmured, already half-unconscious before she could even whisper it back.
The bed jostling jarred Jon out of a feverish sleep. He opened his eyes to see Ghost had jumped on the bed, spinning in circles before finally plopping down in a ball in the middle. His tongue lolled out of his mouth as he panted loudly. From the en suite bathroom, Jon could hear the shower running.
Bleary-eyed, Jon reached a hand out to pat Ghost’s flank. Even that bit of effort hurt. “Thanks for bringing her back, boy.” At the praise, Ghost’s pants quickened in excitement, and Jon slipped off to sleep again.
The next time he woke, it was to the girlish squeals of his daughters. “Daddy, Daddy!” Lya and Aly chorused as they flung themselves into the king-size bed. Ghost barked, their excitement contagious, and Jon moaned, the sound like a nail driving into his head.
“Daddy, can we watch cartoons? Can we, can we?”
“I wanna go to the park today! Can we ride our bikes there?”
The bathroom door swung open then, and Daenerys bolted out, a towel wrapped around her naked body, her skin still flushed and glistening with water.
That was how he knew he was terribly sick; normally a sight like that would have him wide awake and cracking some suggestive innuendo just a bit too advanced for a 5-year-old’s brain.
“Girls, not so loud!” she shushed them.
“I’m hungry!” Lya huffed, holding onto Ghost’s back by fistfuls of his white fur.
“I want ice cream,” Aly begged. Chunks of her hair had slipped out of her braid overnight, the scrunchie she’d asked him to use when braiding her hair for bed now gone, probably lost somewhere among her covers.
“Why is Daddy still in bed?” Rhae asked, except her thumb was in her mouth, so it sounded more like “Wah if Daddeh thill in bed?” She hung back in the doorway, still holding onto the orange dragon plushie she liked to sleep with. Her fine hair was a curly halo around her head, and her eyes were puffy and soft, like she was still half-asleep.
“Rhae, baby, please take your thumb out of your mouth when you’re talking,” Daenerys sighed, and with a quivering pout, Rhae lowered her hand from her mouth. “Daddy doesn’t feel good today. So we’re going to let him sleep, OK?”
They looked at him, wide-eyed. “What’s wrong, Daddy?” Aly asked in a fearful whisper.
“I think somebody gave me their cooties,” he said, pinching the back of her knee and making her squeal, instantly relieving her worries. He tried to sit up on the pillows, but that took more energy than he currently had.
“Girls, Daddy needs to rest. You three go down and wait for me at the kitchen table while I get dressed. Then I’ll make you breakfast. Aly, put your glasses on first, OK, sweetling?”
“Yes, Mommy,” she said dutifully, scrambling out of the bed. Lya followed, and they ran out of the room in a whirlwind of silver curls and pink nightgowns and shrieking giggles.
Daenerys snapped her fingers at the dog. “Ghost, you too.” Immediately, he jumped to his feet and lunged off the bed, running after the girls to herd them to the kitchen, and Daenerys hurried back into the bathroom to finish drying off.
With a sigh, Jon sank back down into the bed, closing his eyes. A moment later, he heard feet scuffling on the carpet, and he squinted one eye open to see Rhae at his side of the bed. She leaned over to press a wet kiss to his cheek. Then she petted his head, in a rough imitation of what he did for her when she was sick. “Is OK, Daddy. You can have Sunfyre if you want,” she said, placing the dragon plushie by his head. “She’ll fix you.”
He smiled weakly at her. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
Sticking her thumb back into her mouth, Rhaella scurried around the bed before breaking into a run to catch up with her sisters.
A moment later, Daenerys emerged, dressed in leggings and one of his dress shirts that was three sizes too big for her, her wet hair towel-dried and tousled, hanging freely down her back. “That’s a new look for the office,” he remarked. Why did his clothes always look better on her?
“I already called Tyrion and told him I’m not coming in today,” she said, perching on the edge of the bed as she set down a glass of water and a couple ibuprofen on the nightstand next to his reading glasses. “Drink. Take these when you feel up to it.”
He frowned, fixating on her previous statement. “You don’t need to stay home. I’m sure I’ll be fine after a shower.”
With a deadpan look, she raised her hand high into the air over his head. “Hit my hand, then.” He just stared at it pitifully, exhausted by just the thought of reaching that far. Smiling, she lowered her hand and repositioned the dragon plushie on the bed next to him. “It’s fine. Irri is moving all my meetings, and I’m sure Tyrion can handle the rest without me. I’ll just check my work email when I have the time.“
He snorted, which hurt his chest for some reason, making him groan. Just then, a loud crash came from downstairs, and Ghost started barking. “Aye, good luck with that.”
With a groan, Daenerys darted out of bed and into the hallway. “What did you girls break?!” she hollered as she disappeared downstairs. Jon could just make out the faint, high-pitched protests of their daughters from the kitchen.
“It wasn’t me!”
“Let me do it.”
“No, I wanna do it!”
“Why do you always get to be first!”
At these not-so quiet whispers, Jon cracked his eyes open. His daughters were crowded around a breakfast tray, each vying to get both hands on it as they took small shuffling steps across the bedroom. His wife followed behind them, her hands fluttering above them like two nervous birds.
“Girls, you’re going to drop it, be careful,” Daenerys admonished fretfully.
Jon tried to sit up a bit on the pillows. “What’s all this?”
Aly’s face split into a grin. (She was missing one of her bottom teeth, the first of the triplets to lose a tooth. Naturally, Lya and Rhae had thrown a fit about it.) “Daddy, I made you breakfast!”
“Oh?”
Lya scowled. “I made it, too!”
“I made the toast!” Aly argued.
“I picked the flowers!”
“He can’t eat that!”
Rhae jumped in, proudly. “I did the special gradient!”
“Special ingredient ,” Daenery corrected gently, then she took the tray from the girls’ hands, since they didn’t have the height to lift it into the bed, and the contents were listing dangerously to the side. She situated the tray over his lap. “The girls wanted to make you breakfast,” she explained with a small smile. “They thought it might make you feel better.”
He smiled at them. “That’s very thoughtful, girls, thank you. It smells good.” He squinted at the bowl of soup and tried not to outwardly react, schooling his expression into something vaguely curious. “Ah. What’s in it, exactly?”
“It’s chicken noodle,” Daenerys said, biting her lip, clearly trying not to laugh.
“Why is it so...colorful?” he asked, confused. Maybe he needed to put his glasses on.
Rhae beamed at him. “I added gummy worms!” she declared. “They’re my favorite, and they always make me feel better.”
“Oh—wow, sweetheart,” Jon said with feigned enthusiasm. “Well, it certainly looks—yummy.”
Daenerys covered her mouth, laughing behind her hand, and he cut her a quick, dirty look.
Impatient that Rhae was getting all his attention, Lya jumped up and down in place. “Do you like the flowers? I picked them!”
Jon turned his attention to the small glass vase, stuffed with three blue roses. “Aye, they’re beautiful, baby. Did you get them from the garden?”
“Yes! Ghost helped me. Well, really, he just ran around in circles outside really fast, but he was with me when I got them!” Jutting out her bottom lip, she held up her thumb, which was wrapped in a band-aid. “I hurted myself on a thorn. But mommy kissed it better.”
Jon chuckled. “Maybe she’ll do the same for me later,” he said, raising his eyebrows at his wife and earning an eye roll in return. Maybe he wasn’t too sick after all. He turned his attention to Aly next, who was pouting as she waited for his acknowledgment of her work. “And you made the toast?” he asked, eyeballing the black-burnt triangle slices, half-melted scoops of butter haphazardly plopped on top of them.
Aly brightened, nodding excitedly. “I had some toast, too, so I know it’s good!”
“Sure looks like it,” he agreed, unable to stop staring at the fat gummy worms floating alongside the pale pink chunks of chicken and noodles. His stomach turned, but he gritted his teeth against it and smiled.
“OK, girls, why don’t we let Daddy eat while you go get changed?” Daenerys suggested helpfully.
“Can I wear a tutu and my rain boots?” Lya asked, and his wife nodded.
“Sure. Put on whatever you want.”
She punched her fists into the air. “Yes!” Then she took off out of the room, with Aly and Rhae right on her heels. “Not the pink tutu, I want the pink tutu this time!” Rhae cried after her.
Once they were gone, Daenerys took the tray off his lap, giving Jon a knowing look. “I’ll make you something better later, if you’re up for it.”
He laughed faintly. “Tell them I appreciate the thought,” he said with a wince.
“I’m sure Ghost can finish it off before they’re dressed, and they’ll be none the wiser,” she said, leaning over to kiss his lips. He made a face at her.
“Good gods, woman, what has the poor dog ever done to you?” he joked, making her laugh on her way out of the room.