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Patton wasn’t exactly a stranger to feeling sick. He would almost say he was used to it at this point. The dump he and his brother had lived in when Patton was twelve hadn’t exactly been conducive for perfect health. Even after moving into Thomas’s house, he and Virgil had still had a way to go health wise.
This wasn’t all that, though. Patton and Virgil had been living in this house for almost 4 years now and Patton just had a normal case of the sniffles. He was still miserable though. He’d stayed home from school today and was currently curled up under his blankets, feeling a bit sorry for himself as he watched cartoons on his phone.
Patton heard a soft knock on his door. “Pat, Pat,” Virgil’s quiet voice said, “are you awake?” Patton was surprised he was already home from school but glancing at the time on his phone told him it was later than he’d thought.
“I’m awake, yeah,” he said.
The door opened, slower than usual, and when Patton looked up, he figured out why. Virgil was carefully opening it while balancing a TV tray on his arm. Virgil smiled at Patton once he stepped inside. “I brought you soup, toast, and tea!” he declared. “I made it myself. Well, the soup was from a can, but I warmed it up myself.”
“You didn’t have to do that sweetie,” Patton said.
“I wanted to though,” he said. “You’re sick.”
“You shouldn’t have to take care of me though,” Patton said.
Virgil put the tray down on Patton’s desk and put his hands on his hips. “Why not? You built a house, worked for money, and kept me fed when you were twelve, and I can’t warm up canned soup in a microwave?”
“To be fair,” Patton said. “You almost died from a cold I tried to treat.”
Virgil frowned at him.
“I’m still the big brother,” Patton insisted. “I take care of you.”
Virgil glared “Why don’t you let someone else take care of you for a change?” he asked, clearly exasperated. He picked up the tea and handed it to Patton.
“Fine,” Patton relented, taking it, “but I better get cuddles too.”