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Chapter Text

The director broke the clapboard over his knee and hurled the fragmented pieces on the ground. His rage was so concentrated that his speech was reduced to angry grunts and the occasional profanity. 

“He sounds like you, Pincess,” Yakko told Dot, playfully elbowing her in the side. 

If looks could kill, she would have started the apocalypse. 

She was still sore over the day’s events. 

“We’ll finish tomorrow. Just get out! ” The director finally screeched at them. 

“Well, sibs, I’d call that another job well done!” Yakko declared, “Let’s go home.” 

Truthfully, Yakko was happy his sister finally managed to spit out her own name. 

They had been at it for hours and he was exhausted. The bright lights and hot costume weren’t exactly helping the situation. 

“What’s for dinner?” Wakko asked on the trek back to the tower. 

Yakko shrugged, “Spaghetti?”

“Faboo! I love piss-schetti!” Wakko replied with a massive grin. 

Their way of making spaghetti was unusual, but simply because people didn’t know what they were missing. 

The trio made a game out of it. It was akin to darts, if the darts were made of uncooked spaghetti and the dartboard was a boiling pot of water. 

Practically the same thing, if you asked Yakko. 

Whoever scored the most points was the one who got to choose their evening programming. Dot had a killer aim. They spent most nights watching the Bachelorette. 

Yakko and Wakko would never admit it, but they had become invested in Chloe and her gaggle of love-struck suitors. 

“I think it’s ready!” Dot announced. 

Wakko dipped his arm into the pot of boiling water and withdrew a fistful of steaming noodles. The sleeve of his sweater was saturated with scalding water. He was unperturbed. 

Wakko chucked the noodles at the ceiling. They stuck. 

Well, that proves it! 

Yakko pushed two plates laden with pasta towards his siblings. 

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” Dot asked curiously. 

“Nah, I’m not hungry,” Yakko replied with a halfhearted shrug.

The siblings jubilantly discussed all the ways they had caused problems that day. There were so many that they were still at the table long after the spaghetti had been eaten. 

The other two made Yakko eat a slice of bread before they left the kitchen, just so he had something. 

Yakko’s heart melted at the care they showed through this small act, even if it was a bit… forceful. 

They shoved the piece of buttered bread towards him insistently. Dot’s stern glare told him that he didn’t have a choice in the matter. 

He ate it without complaint. 

They spent the rest of the night curled up on the couch watching the Bachelorette. Dot ardently complained when Chloe chose Andrew over Sam. 

Yakko silently agreed. 

The next morning was far less serene. It was a fun skit, but frankly, Yakko wasn’t in the mood. The costume wasn’t only hot, it was itchy. 

He squirmed, which the others ignored. Yakko’s restlessness was nothing new. 

He didn’t have the luxury of  ignoring the constant irritation. As hard as he tried to fend it off by focusing on the scene, the discomfort seemed to swallow him whole. 

“This village is so quaint, it makes me want to break into song!” Dot cried. 

“Funny, it makes me break into a rash,” Yakko told Wakko, scratching his side. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief. 

The relief was gone the moment Dot began to sing. 

Well, at least she was cute. 

Throughout the skit, Yakko was reprimanded for ruining shots with his constant fidgeting. Wakko kept shooting sidelong glances at him. Yakko pointedly ignored them. 

“What’s the big idea?” Dot demanded after yet another failed take. 

“I can’t help it!” Yakko said, holding up his hands in defense, “These costumes are torture—I’d rather be forced to watch Chevy Chase do stand up.”

Wakko and Dot exchanged a confused glance. 

“...Aren’t your guys’ costumes itchy?” Yakko asked tentatively. 

“No,” Wakko and Dot replied in unison. 

If their concern wasn’t obvious from the tone of their voices, then the looks on their faces would have been a dead giveaway.  

“Oh,” Yakko said lamely. 

“Do you think we should call it quits for the day? You obviously can’t work like this,” Dot stated. 

“No, no, it’ll be fine, I’ll just—”

Too late. 

Wakko had already eaten the background whole. The director regressed into his primal, livid language. 

“Ok, yeah, we should probably go,” Yakko said, pushing the others towards the door.

The director was practically foaming at the mouth. 

“Right now,” Yakko clarified. 

Even without the stupid costume, he was in agony. 

He reached over his shoulder to scratch his back. Wakko and Dot stared at him. 

He usually liked to be the center of attention, but this was getting old quickly. 

“Maybe you’re allergic to whatever fabric that costume was made from,” Dot suggested. 

Yakko just shrugged, which elicited another round of concerned stares. 

“Knock it off! I’m fine!” Yakko insisted. 

The lie detector determined that was a lie! Said a small voice in the back of his head. 

He didn’t know what was going on, but it wasn’t his siblings’ responsibility to worry about it. He’d deal with whatever it was as discreetly as possible. 

That’s what he’d always done. 

Why stop now? 

One of these days, it’s going to backfire!  Argued the voice. He ignored it. 

Even with the renewed façade, he couldn’t bring himself to eat. He pushed his food around on his plate, chin resting on his fist. 

“Aren’t you the one who told us not to play with our food?” Dot asked. 

“No, that was Scratchy. Honestly, sister sibling, how could you get your beloved older brother confused with your p-sychiatrist?” Yakko asked. 

“You do kinda sound like him…” Wakko said. 

Dot and Yakko shared a skeptical glance.

“I don’t see it,” Yakko said. 

After dinner, they settled in with Wakko’s choice. It was a movie about serial killers and quiet sheep, or something to that effect. Yakko didn’t really know. 

He was half asleep by the time the attractive FBI agent interviewed the psychopath in the muzzle. 

He nodded off with his arms around his siblings. Dot was nestled against his chest. Wakko’s head rested in the crook of Yakko’s neck. 

He jerked awake when they screamed at a particularly jarring scene. 

“Ok, that’s enough of that!” Yakko declared. He shut off the TV and ushered them to bed. They each demanded a kiss on the forehead before bed and he obliged.

Yakko curled up in the bottom bunk. He quietly groaned as the itching returned in full force. 

He tried to ignore it away.

Surely that was a totally normal and healthy way of dealing with problems.  

Yakko finally fell into a restless sleep. 

He held out hope that he’d feel better in the morning. 

Chapter Text

Yakko wanted to smother himself. 

Could he smother himself? He didn’t think so. 

Maybe if he made enough puns Dot would do it for him. 

All hope of recovery was flung out the window the moment he woke up. He knew he swore to hide his illness, but this… this would be a bit more difficult to manage. The itch was so intense that it seemed to permeate every cell of his body. 

His hands were curled into fists at his sides. He focused resolutely on the bottom of the bed above him. 

Don’t scratch. Don’t scratch. Don’t scratch.

Yakko internally recited this new mantra. He knew that that’d be the advice he’d give to his siblings if they were in his situation. He focused on breathing. 

“You look terrible,” Dot declared, hanging off the edge of her bed, “What’s wrong?”

“Can’t a guy stare into space and contemplate the morality of wealth accumulation in peace?” Yakko retorted. 

The sarcastic response seemed to satisfy Dot. She crawled to the ladder and descended, followed closely by Wakko. 

The Warners went about their normal morning routine. Yakko faked it well—or so he thought. 

“Uh? Yakko?” Wakko asked, pointing at his brother’s hand. 

“Hm?” Yakko asked, looking up. He glanced at the hand Wakko was gesturing to. 

Yakko had been absentmindedly scratching his shoulder. He jerked his hand away like he’d been burnt.

“You’ve been scratching all morning. Are you sure you’re ok?” Dot asked suspiciously. 

“Sure I am! Just a bit of residual irritation from yesterday. Cheap fabric and all,” Yakko replied with a forced chuckle. 

He ran his hand over his fur to smooth it. 

His eyes widened slightly. At least half a dozen small bumps had formed beneath his fur. 

The others noticed the subtle shift in his expression. They lunged for him, but he danced just outside of their reach. He evaded their attempts for a solid minute before they tackled him to the ground.

He could add broken ribs to his growing list of ailments. 

“Do we really have to do this every time you’re sick?” Dot demanded. 

“Old habits die hard, baby sis.”

“How long has it been like this?” Wakko asked, running a gentle hand along Yakko’s shoulder blade. Dot glared at her oldest brother’s black fur, following Wakko’s lead. 

“Don’t do that!” Yakko cried. 

They were making it worse. He felt Dot part a section of the fur on his back. It was agonizing. 

“Come on, guys, leave me alone! Please?” Yakko begged. 

Dot gasped. Wakko stayed silent, but the hand on Yakko’s back tensed. It didn’t take much for Yakko to surmise that their findings weren’t good. 

“Ok, that’s it! We’re taking you to Scratchansniff, even if we have to drag you there!” Dot proclaimed. 

“No wonder you’re so itchy,” Wakko marveled quietly. 

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t kidding about the rash during the skit,” Yakko snapped, “Now get off of me!”

He couldn’t help it. As soon as they obliged, he desperately tried to scratch the area they had irritated. He couldn’t reach. 

He groaned in frustration, letting his face fall onto the floor. His shoulders twitched. 

The misery was so profound that he considered asking Wakko to end it—and him—with a mallet. 

He sought to shuffle off this mortal coil, but it seemed like he was walking up the down escalator. 

He wished he could shuffle a little faster. 

“Do you need help?” 

Yakko glanced up, looking his younger brother in the eye. Wakko’s brows were knit with concern. 

It was such a simple question, but it bore a substantial amount of weight. 

Yakko had never been one to ask for help—or even accept it for that matter. 

Obstinance is a virtue after all… or was it abstinence? Was that even considered a vir—it didn’t matter.

To accept Wakko’s help would mean that he was allowing his siblings to take on his responsibility. Yakko was the one who was supposed to ensure that everything was ok.

It was a burden that he was resolute about protecting them from. 

If the circumstances had been different, Yakko would have denied the offer. However, in that moment, he would have done anything to subdue the itching. 

“Yes, please,” he mumbled. 

Wakko raked his hands over Yakko’s shoulder blades. Yakko nearly sobbed in relief as the extreme irritation dulled into a vague discomfort. 

“Thank you, baby bro,” Yakko said. 

“Better? Now hurry it up. The sooner you see Scratchy, the sooner you’ll be better,” Dot ordered. 

Yakko had never wanted to be in his p-sychistrist’s office less. The only thing that made up for it was—

“Hellooooo nurse!” He and Wakko chorused. 

Dot facepalmed, “One day. That’s all I’m asking for. One.”

“You can come back now,” Nurse said with a hint of a smile. 

She immediately got to work on her assessment. 

She had a good poker face, Yakko had to give it to her, but he could still see the subtle disquiet that flashed in her eyes with each new finding. It was particularly bad when she inspected the inflamed skin beneath his fur. 

“Open your mouth, please,” Nurse said. 

She shined a light into his mouth. Her eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly. She turned the penlight off and stood straight up.

Her eyes flickered to Wakko and Dot. Yakko anxiously stared at her, silently begging her to assure them that they were ok. 

He hadn’t even considered the possibility that this nuisance was contagious. 

“I’m going to speak to Dr. Scratchansniff. He will be in shortly,” Nurse said, resting a gentle hand on Yakko’s shoulder. 

As soon as the door shut, his head whipped to face them. He stared at his siblings in horror. If they got sick, it was entirely his fault. He knew he was ill, but he didn’t keep them away. He did this to them. 

The thought of them dealing with the torture of the condition was even more intolerable than struggling with it himself. 

“Why are you looking at us like that?” Dot asked. 

“Have you guys been feeling ok? Any headaches, fever, itching, anything?” Yakko asked, voice wavering under the forced calm façade. 

Wakko and Dot exchanged a fearful glance. 

“What?” Yakko demanded.

“Dot had a fever this morning, but we were more concerned about you,” Wakko admitted. 

Dot glared at Wakko as if he had revealed something intensely private. 

“Well, if we’re telling him everything, then you should tell him about the headache you had last night,” she hissed. 

No, no, no, no, no!

They began to argue, but Yakko could barely hear them above the blood rushing in his ears. He dropped his head into his hands. He couldn’t breathe. This was his fault. His siblings were going to suffer the same fate as him and he was to blame. 

Yakko’s foolproof plan had fallen through. 

He had finally found an illness he couldn’t brush off. 

Dr. Scratchansniff entered after a brief knock. The three of them must have been quite the sight. Wakko and Dot were arguing animatedly while Yakko had an existential crisis on the exam table. 

Scratchansniff carefully laid both hands on Yakko’s shoulders, “Yakko?”

The doctor recoiled at the look of sheer panic Yakko displayed when he lifted his head. 

Yeah, Yakko would have been scared, too. 

He had rarely allowed himself to be vulnerable around the doctor. Seeing him in such acute distress was probably pretty unnerving. 

Scratchansniff assessed him to confirm Nurse’s suspicions. It only took a brief once-over to prove her right. 

“Yakko, I am afraid that you have the chickenpox. Your siblings are likely infected as vell.”

“They are. And it’s all my fault,” Yakko mumbled. 

“Vhat? This isn’t your fault. You did not give this to them,” Scratchansniff reassured Yakko, lightly squeezing his shoulder, “The incubation is 10 days to three veeks. You vere probably infected at the same time, you vere just the first to develop symptoms. This vas beyond your control.” 

Yakko felt a bit less anguished, but anxiety still clouded his mind. If he felt this bad, he could only imagine how miserable his sibs would be.

It could start any time now. 

“Doc, what do I do about them?” He asked desperately. 

He didn’t care about himself. He would suffer through this three times if it meant that they didn’t have to. 

“There are several remedies available. Let me valk you through them.”

“How are you feeling?” Dot asked a few hours later. 

“Well, I’m not itchy anymore,” Yakko yawned. 

Scratchansniff warned that the Benadryl would knock him out. He wasn’t kidding. 

Yakko thought it was a fair enough trade. He’d rather be half asleep than intolerably itchy.

The doctor determined that less invasive interventions would be useless—their fur was too thick to properly apply topical medicines. Scratchansniff finally settled upon Benadryl. 

Nurse gave Yakko his first dose in the office and sent them home with a bottle of their own. Scratchansniff told them that he and Nurse would check on them the following day. 

Yakko felt the medication begin to take effect after half an hour, for better or worse. 

He found himself nodding off every few minutes. Wakko and Dot begged him to go to bed, but he refused. He had to be ready when they started developing the more specific symptoms. He didn’t want them to have to suffer. 

As hard as he tried to fight the growing fatigue, Benadryl won the battle. 

He awoke to Dot’s exasperated groan. 

Chapter Text

Dot was demanding, particular, and relentless. 

And that was when she wasn’t sick. 

When Dot fell ill, she lived up to the “Princess” preceding her name. 

However, as she shied away from Yakko, choking on sobs, he desperately wished that she would snap at him or boss him around.

Anything but this. 

“Hey, sis, it’s ok. You’re alright,” Yakko reassured her gently.  

The poor thing was probably scared out of her wits. 

He climbed back down the ladder and retreated a few paces. He sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes trained on her. He held out his arms.

She watched him cautiously through her tears. 

After a moment, she descended the ladder.

She silently padded over to Yakko before collapsing into his outstretched arms. She sobbed into his shoulder while he rubbed her back. His other hand rested on the back of her head. 

“Everything is gonna be ok,” he murmured. 

Yakko purred in an effort to calm her. It seemed to have some effect. Dot’s sporadic breathing slowed into a steady rhythm. 

Her sobs gradually dwindled until only the occasional hiccup remained. 

“Is this really what you’ve been going through?” She sniffled, scratching her cheek.

“Uhhhh,” Yakko hesitated, “Yeah. It’s been miserable.”

She glared at him, “How come you didn’t tell us?”

“And what? Worry you when you couldn’t do anything? No way,” Yakko stated. 

“We could have tried! We could have been there for you! Instead, you tried to handle everything yourself! Again!” She cried. 

“Hey, hey, quiet down. Wakko’s still trying to sleep,” Yakko insisted. 

Dot scoffed, “Oh, please, he could sleep through a 6.8.” 

Her expression softened, “We just wanna help, Yak. Please?”

He smiled softly, “I’ll consider the offer. In the meantime, it’s time for my next dose of medicine and for your first.”

After seeing the apprehension on her face, he added, “It helps. Really.”

He was relieved when Dot insisted on being held. The fear she had shown earlier had completely subsided.

The medication hadn’t taken long to kick in. She was fast asleep. Her head rested on Yakko’s chest, just above his heart. His heartbeat always seemed to soothe her.

He figured that as long as it kept beating, he was in luck. 

In more ways than one. 

He nodded off. 

A gentle hand on Yakko’s shoulder roused him from his slumber. 

Wakko stood at his bedside, grinning broadly. His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth. 

Yakko noticed the tower of toast Wakko was balancing precariously in his other hand. 

“I made you both breakfast!” He announced. 

Yakko ruffled the fur on Wakko’s cheek, “You’re too good to us, kid.”

He gently prodded Dot, who glared at him. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. Yakko passed her the plate of toast. She selected a piece and nibbled on the edge.  

Sure, the toast was a bit… charred. But it was made with love. 

Wakko sat on Yakko’s unoccupied side. He threw a triangle of toast into the air before swallowing it whole. 

When they had finished their meal, Yakko took the plate to the kitchen. Wakko followed him. 

“I can handle it!” Wakko insisted. 

“Come on, baby brother, did you really think I’d let you have all the fun?” Yakko asked with a grin, sliding the plate into the sink. He washed it and set it out to dry.

Wakko crossed his arms. If his tongue wasn’t poking out, his look of disapproval would have been almost as fearsome as Dot’s. 

“Go back to bed,” he ordered. 

Yakko stared incredulously at the younger boy. 

He couldn’t be serious. 

“Wak, I—”

“Go,” Wakko insisted, “If you don’t rest, you won’t get better.”

Yakko nodded silently, still processing the strange turn of events. 

He retreated back to bed, where Dot had again fallen asleep. He carried her to her own bed, tucked her in, and pressed a kiss into her forehead. 

He climbed back into his own bed. He stared blankly at the bed above him, mind still racing to catch up. 

Wakko was calling the shots now, huh? 

Yakko didn’t like this update. Not because he felt the need to be in charge, but because the responsibility would fall to Wakko. At least until he fell ill, too. 

Yakko knew how difficult it could be. He didn’t want his brother to fall victim to the stress. 

Yakko swore that would help as much as he could get away with. 

He surrendered to the mounting fatigue. 

“I’ll get it!” Wakko cried. 

Yakko rubbed his eyes, yawning. He hadn’t slept so much—or so well—in years. 

He heard Dot angrily mutter about disrupting her beauty sleep. 

“I finally get to get it!” Wakko cried. He flung the door open, “Hello!” 

Dr. Scratchansniff and Nurse waited at the threshold. Wakko gestured for them to come in. 

“Hello Vakko, Yakko, Dot,” Scratchansniff replied, addressing them individually. 

He was carrying a massive metal cauldron. Nurse bore a loaf of bread. 

“We hope you don’t mind. There’s enough for a few meals,” Nurse said. 

“Mind? This is faboo! Thank you!” Wakko grinned. 

Scratchansniff took residence in the kitchen. Nurse and Wakko set the table. 

Yakko tried to help, but he was denied.

He pouted. 

“It’s nothing personal, sweetheart, but you are sick,” Nurse confided. 

Yakko nodded. He still wasn’t happy, but there was no argument to be made. 

Dot and Scratchansniff joined them at the table. 

Who knew Scratchy was such a good cook? The soup was his mother’s recipe. 

It was the best soup Yakko had ever tasted. 

“How are you feeling?” Scratchansniff asked. 

“Tired,” Dot grumbled. 

“The medicine’s hitting us hard, doc. You said it’d make us tired, not put us in a coma,” Yakko added. 

“I assume it is better than the alternative, ja?” Scratchansniff retorted. 

“You’ve got me there,” Yakko admitted. 

“And you, Vakko? Have you developed any symptoms?”

Wakko looked up from his soup, which he was stirring listlessly, “What? Oh, yeah! I’m fine!” 

He smiled broadly to emphasize the point. The moment the attention was off him, his gaze returned to the bowl in front of him. 

“Only two bowls of soup and half a loaf of bread? What’s the matter, Wak, losing your appetite?” Yakko joked. 

As soon as he said it, he knew it was true. The grin Wakko had worn all day had faded. His cheek rested on his fist. He looked exhausted. 

“Wak, are you sure you’re ok?” Yakko asked. 

“Mhmm,” Wakko agreed. 

“Why don’t you take some medicine, just in case?” Yakko offered

Wakko glared at him. Now Yakko was starting to worry. His little brother’s irritability was completely uncharacteristic. 

“No,” Wakko said firmly. 

“But—” Yakko argued. 

“No,” Wakko repeated.

“Vakko—” Scratchansniff tried. 

“No!” Wakko barked. It was clear that he didn’t want to discuss it anymore. 

He glared into his soup. 

Yakko noticed Wakko scratch his cheek with his fist. 

“Wakko’s trying to hide it, but he’s probably miserable,” Yakko told Scratchansniff as soon as they were alone in the kitchen. 

“Yes, he is,” the psychiatrist sighed, “It may be a vhile before he accepts your help. You Varners are stubborn kideses.” 

He patted Yakko’s back affectionately. 

Yakko’s skin crawled where the psychiatrist had touched him. He glanced at the clock. It was time for his and Dot’s next round of medication. 

If he was lucky, maybe he could convince Wakko to take it as well. 

He couldn’t. 

His younger brother’s growing agitation made it impossible to reason with him. Wakko completely shut down. 

“It’s ok, baby bro. We can wait until you feel like you need it,” Yakko finally said. 

Wakko’s expression softened slightly, “Thank you.”

It had been an hour or so after Scratchansniff and Nurse’s departure. The three of them were on their own until the pair returned the following day.

Yakko tucked Dot into bed. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wakko dig into a spot just beneath the collar of his sweater. Yakko hoped his brother would concede soon. He didn’t want Wakko to hurt himself. 

Yakko and Dot exchanged a concerned look. 

Yakko descended the ladder and crawled into bed, keeping his eyes trained on Wakko, who was frozen in place.

He watched as Wakko’s last string of resolve snapped. 

Wakko frantically strained to reach a spot on his back, whimpering softly. Yakko could hardly bear the look of desperation and discomfort on his little brother’s face. 

“Need some help?” Yakko offered with a soft smile. 

Wakko’s ears drooped, “Please.”

He hurried over to his older brother’s bed. He dropped himself onto the edge, shoulder hunched, head hung. 

Yakko scratched the elusive spot in the middle of Wakko’s back. 

Wakko straightened up, leaning back into the touch. His foot involuntarily kicked the air. 

“Thank you,” Wakko sighed, “I’m sorry I’ve been so mean today. I can’t help it! It’s been terrible.”

“It’s ok, Wak. I know,” Yakko reassured him. He drew his brother into a hug. Wakko buried his face in Yakko’s shoulder. 

 “Come on, baby bro,” Yakko said, “Let’s get you taken care of.” 

Chapter Text

“You really think that’s gonna work?” Dot asked skeptically, crossing her arms. 

Yakko held up a slice of American cheese, “C’mon, sis, it’s practically a guarantee!” 

He meticulously secured the pill in its makeshift envelope. 

Getting Wakko to take pills was tricky. If it wasn’t done juuust so, he would manage to extract the medication from the cheese and spit it out. 

It took dozens of sacrificed cheese slices for Yakko to perfect his technique. 

“Hey, Wakko,” Yakko yelled. 

The younger boy’s head popped up over the back of the couch. 

“Catch!”

Yakko chucked the morsel at his brother. Wakko snatched it out of the air and swallowed it whole.

Yakko silently wondered if anyone had ever mentioned “boa constrictor” when trying to distinguish the Warners’ species.

Wakko licked his lips in satisfaction before shooting the pair a thumbs up. He sunk back onto the sofa.

Yakko wiggled his eyebrows at Dot, “Told ya.”

She rolled her eyes, but her small smile gave her away.

“Now, we should all be asleep once the meds kick in. Should take an hour, give or take,” Yakko added. 

Wakko was not asleep.

In fact, he was more hyper than the other two had seen since the time he had scarfed down 6 dozen donuts.

Unlike that instance, there was no crash in sight.

He was currently constructing a monstrosity of a Rube Goldberg. Any object he could get his hands on was fair game. Yakko and Dot spectated from their beds.

“Do you think he’ll wear himself out?” Dot asked. 

“Not anytime soon,” Yakko replied. 

Dot huffed and rolled over. She was asleep within minutes. 

Yakko tried to watch his brother for as long as possible, out of equal parts astonishment and concern. He didn’t want Wakko to injure himself should the medication suddenly make him drowsy. 

Yakko lasted about an hour. 

Not bad for the circumstances. 

When he woke up, the Rube Goldberg was gone. Wakko and Dot were curled up on either side of him. 

Dot’s head rested on his chest. Hushed purrs emanated her chest with each slow breath.

“Where’s your project, Wak?” Yakko asked. 

“I got bored and took it down. This is better, anyway,” he stated, snuggling closer to Yakko. 

Yakko ruffled his younger brother’s hat affectionately. 

“Yakko?” Wakko asked after a few moments of silence. 

“Yeah, baby bro?” Yakko yawned. 

“Do you think that pigeons have feelings?”

“Wakko… We know the goodfeathers.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Wakko argued, “Look at Pesto.”

“Wak, he’s the most emotional one. You’ve seen him throttle Squit. His singular emotion is rage,” Yakko countered. 

“So do you think that pigeons can have more than one—”

“I’m not continuing this conversation,” Yakko declared. 

Silence settled again. Yakko began to doze off. His brother’s voice urged him back into the moment. 

“Yakko?” Wakko muttered

“Look, Wakko, I am not discussing the emotional range of the goodfeathers again,” Yakko grumbled.

“It’s not that…” Wakko murmured, “Why don’t you trust us?” 

“W-What?” Yakko stammered, “What makes you think I don’t trust you two?”

“You always try to hide stuff like this. People may think I’m stupid, but I’m not. Dot and I know when you’re sick. You act like you’re ok, but we know you’re doing it for us. Why can’t you tell us?”

“...That’s a complicated question,” Yakko sighed. 

“Then simplify it,” Wakko begged. 

“I—I need to be the one looking out for you guys. You two shouldn’t have to worry about whether I have a bit of a fever or a rash. I’m your older brother, Wak! It’s my job to make things alright for us, not yours or Dot’s.”

“That’s stupid,” Wakko rebutted, “We have you, but you also have us.”

Yakko swallowed harshly, drawing his younger siblings into a tighter embrace. 

Wakko burrowed his face into the crook of Yakko’s neck. 

Dot’s purr crescendoed. She nestled herself firmly against his chest. A sleepy smile took residence on her face. 

Yakko kissed both of their foreheads before drifting off again. 

They had overslept. 

Yakko knew it from the way his skin crawled the moment he woke up. 

Even if he wasn’t beginning to squirm, the other two were in obvious discomfort. Dot raked her hands up her arms and Wakko was digging at his sides.

Yakko was surprised their noises of discontent hadn’t roused him sooner. 

“Don’t scratch so hard, you two,” he insisted. 

Dot glared at him as she scratched the side of her neck, “You’re one to talk, Mr. It’s-The-Costume.” 

“Let me grab some medicine. We’ll all feel better in a little while,” Yakko soothed. 

He had forgotten just how uncomfortable it was. 

His back itched the most—a cruel trick of fate. 

He still couldn’t reach. 

It was hard to focus on folding Wakko’s cheese, but he managed. 

He tossed it to Wakko, helped Dot down her pill with a glass of water, and swallowed his own. 

It would take at least 15 minutes for the medication to kick in. He didn’t know if they had 15 minutes to spare. 

Yakko tried to set a good example by not scratching. He tried to sit calmly, hold his agitated younger siblings close, and focus on breathing. He tried. 

It was unbearable. 

Every nerve begged him to scratch. 

How could his own body betray him like this?

It was a treachery only matched by Brutus’s blow in Julius Caesar.

Well, at least Brutus and the rest of the conspirators had the decency to finish the job. 

“Ok, I concede,” he whined. 

Wakko and Dot each took a half of his back while he scratched theirs for them.

They didn’t notice the doorbell, the knocking, or even the creaking sound the door made as it swung open. 

“...Kidses?” Scratchansniff inquired. 

The three children froze. 

They turned to Scratchansniff and Nurse, who surveyed the scene in shock. 

“We overslept and missed the last dose, doc,” Yakko confessed.

Dot groaned in frustration before dissolving into angry tears, “It itches so much!”

“Oh, kidses, you’re ok,” Scratchansniff said, rushing forward. 

Nurse was right behind him. 

Dot sobbed into Yakko’s shoulder. He and Wakko rubbed her back. 

“Its alright, honey. This should only last for a few more days,” Nurse cooed. 

“That’s so long,” Wakko hiccuped. 

He clung to Yakko as well. His tears began to saturate the older boy’s fur. 

“It’s ok, sibs. It’s ok,” Yakko tried. 

He could feel his own resolve deteriorating. He had been uncomfortable for so long. His siblings were miserable. An exhaustion apart from that of the medication had set in. 

He had had enough. 

“It’s ok,” he choked. 

Yakko pulled his siblings even closer. His own strangled sobs added to the din. 

Two sets of arms draped around the siblings. 

“It’s alright, kidses. Ve are here for you,” Scratchansniff confided. 

“We won’t let you suffer,” Nurse added. 

“It vill be alright.”

Chapter Text

Nurse and Scratchansniff had brought this on themselves. They were the ones who offered to stay the night. 

They should have been prepared for the consequences. 

Scratchansniff could have sworn that when he and Nurse put the Warners to bed the previous night, they had put the children in their beds. 

The three children must have curled up on top of him at some point during the night. They rested on Scratchansniff from his shoulders to his stomach.

Dot was draped across his upper chest. Her foot rested against Scratchansniff’s jaw and her cheek was squished against Yakko’s shoulder. She seemed to purr with each exhalation. 

Yakko, who was in the center, laid on his stomach. Yakko’s right arm was loosely wrapped around Dot’s waist. His other hand rested on Wakko’s chest.

Wakko rested on the doctor’s abdomen. He was sprawled out on his back, legs draped over Yakko’s. He twitched and barked softly in his sleep. 

Scratchansniff could hardly keep the loving smile off his face as he watched the three of them sleep. 

Nurse, ever the morning bird, watched the scene with a serene smile. 

“I think they’ve grown quite fond of you, Otto,” she teased lightly. 

“Vell, I vould be lying if I said I did not care for them, as vell,” he replied, running a gentle hand over Yakko’s exposed back. 

“Did you hear that, sibs?” Yakko yawned, “Our dad really does care! He does!”

The other two cheered quietly. 

The three of them instantly fell back asleep. 

Nurse laughed, “Your secret’s out!”

“That’s alright,” Scratchansniff murmured.

His gaze was still fixed on the sleeping trio.

Nurse and Scratchansniff stayed as long as they could before work. It was just enough time for the five of them to enjoy breakfast together. 

Yakko’s concern returned when there was still food left over at the end. 

He made a note to coax Wakko to eat more later. 

The trio followed the medical professions to the threshold. 

“Rest up, kidses,” Scratchansniff ordered, “Ve vill be back to check on you tonight.”

Nurse pressed a kiss into each of their foreheads as the pair left. 

Dot stared at her brothers in horror after the door clicked shut. 

“What’s the matter?” Yakko asked. 

“I know I said I wanted a day without your ‘Hello Nurse’ routine, but now you’re scaring me,” she stated. 

Yakko ignored her. 

“You heard the good doctor, we need to rest up. People are going to start getting comfortable around here if we don’t recover soon.”

The three of them curled up in Yakko’s bed. 

Dot swiftly fell asleep to the steady rhythm of his heart. He ran a hand down her back. 

“Still not tired?” He asked Wakko. 

“No,” Wakko admitted. 

“Maybe I can help with that. Wanna hear a story?”

Wakko nodded enthusiastically. 

Yakko launched into the tale of a quick-witted hero and his nemesis, a relentless but incompetent hunter. 

The hero may or may not have been based off of Bugs Bunny. 

Wakko was asleep by the end of the story. 

He looked so serene that Yakko almost wasn’t annoyed that he was being slobbered on. 

Almost. 

He nodded off with his siblings at his side. He couldn’t have asked for better—even if his fur was matted with drool. 

Nurse and Scratchansniff returned just in time for dinner. 

Nurse ensured that their scheduled dose of medication was given at the right time. They didn’t want a repeat of yesterday’s fiasco. 

After dinner, Scratchansniff flipped on the tv. 

“Let’s find you kidses something to vatch. It may help you get your minds off of the situation,” he said. 

The doctor flipped on an animated movie. The heroine was perched on the rim of a well. 

“Snow White? I hate this movie! It’s not the princess’s fault that the ugly old crone hates her. She can’t help it if she’s cute,” Dot protested, fluffing her hair. 

“No Snow Vhite,” Scratchansniff agreed, “Here, let’s see. How is this?” 

“Pocahontas? Really, Scratchy? Do you know how many historical inaccuracies are in the plot alone? Let alone all the—” Yakko rambled. 

Scratchansniff hurriedly changed the channel. 

“Beauty and the Beast. That’s a good one, ja?”

Yakko groaned, scratching his chest, “No. I don’t think I’ll even be able to think about that skit again.”

“Oh, right. I’m sorry, Yakko. You kideses must like Ratatouille?” Scratchansniff tried. 

“I’m hungry!” Wakko cried. 

“Ok! No more Disney! Let’s put on a nice, peaceful nature documentary, ja?”

“Ok,” the Warners chorused. 

“Oh look, kidses. That antelope is getting a drink of vater vith his antelope friends. Isn’t that nice—”

A lion darted into the shot. 

The antelope didn’t stand a chance. 

The three children shrieked, pulling one another into a fearful embrace. 

Scratchansniff fumbled with the remote. He turned the TV off and hurled the remote onto a chair. 

“How about a board game instead?” Scratchansniff offered weakly. 

Yakko would have preferred to watch the antelope get mauled. 

He was sure Scratchansniff shared this sentiment. 

Dot and Wakko were arguing over an accusation of cheating. Dot was hovering over Wakko, the collar of his sweater bunched in her fists. Their noses were less than an inch apart. 

The monopoly board was flipped over. Stray hotels, metal tokens, and colorful paper bills littered the floor. 

“I told you monopoly would be a bad idea,” Yakko lilted, “But noooo.” 

Nurse glanced up from her book. She took in the violent scene. Setting the book aside, she knelt onto the floor beside the squabbling siblings. 

She murmured something imperceptible to the two of them. They stopped fighting. 

“You need to teach me that,” Yakko declared with a wink. 

“You must be feeling better,” Nurse declared, raising her eyebrows. She returned her attention to the younger two, “Why don’t I make some hot chocolate and then we can watch a movie together.”

”Nothing Disney, I promise,” she added after the siblings opened their mouths to argue. 

The five of them settled upon a comedy.

The hot chocolate was good, even if Yakko’s was water-based. He didn’t want to test fate by using milk. Nurse probably wouldn’t have let him, either way. 

Oddly enough, being lactose intolerant seemed to discourage people from giving him dairy. 

He still ate it to test the extent of the condition. Being curled up on the couch for a day was still better than having chickenpox. 

His siblings’ raucous laughter snapped him back into the moment. Despite not knowing the joke, he laughed along. 

Their laughter was contagious. 

They snuggled into his sides, still giggling. Wakko wiped a stray tear from his eye. 

Yakko smiled down at them. He would always be there to make them laugh, protect them, or offer them unconditional love. 

He was starting to accept that the sentiment was mutual. 

We have you, but you also have us. 

They had each other, and they always would.  

Yakko glanced at Scratchansniff and Nurse. 

They cared about the Warners. The siblings had never experienced anything relatively close to that. Yakko was determined to keep them around for as long as possible, for the sake of his siblings. And for himself. 

He had to admit it. 

Yakko cared about their persistent p-sychiatrist and the brilliant nurse.

They were family. 

Perhaps he didn’t have to bear the weight of the world alone. 

He wasn’t Atlas, after all; he was surrounded by people who cared. People who gave him strength. 

Yakko had enough love to prop up the sky for an eternity.