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Robbe slips slowly into consciousness.
His limbs are heavy with sleep, his mouth cottony and he’s cold, the blanket only half-covering him, his feet victims of the chilled air. He’s contemplating shoving his cold feet between Sander’s legs as punishment for stealing all the bedcovers, when he feels a shift in the air.
Robbe groans and blinks fully awake.
It’s pitch black in the bedroom, the curtains drawn. He can feel Sander’s back pressed against his own, their spines aligned. The only sound in the room is Sander’s heavy breathing.
Then he hears a sniffle.
Robbe rubs at his eyes and sits up, trying to see into the darkness. He can’t make out anything, not even an outline, but he knows he heard something.
“David?”
Another sniffle and then a watery voice. “Papa I don’t feel good.”
Robbe glances at the bedside table, tapping his phone screen and squinting to see the time, 03:11 .
“Come here Bowie.”
He hears David’s light footsteps padding across the hardwood and onto the rug and then Robbe can finally see him, dressed in his plaid pajama pants, a throw blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He looks so sweet, all bundled up, with hooded, tired eyes, but then he sniffs again and Robbe is reminded of the current situation.
Robbe swings his legs off the bed, ignoring the cold that rushes up to meet him and scooches forward, opening his arms.
David steps into the space created for him between Robbe’s legs, leaning heavily into his body, face pressed to Robbe’s chest. Robbe can feel his forehead burning where it’s flush against his sternum.
Robbe hoists David gently into his lap, so he can see him better and puts the back of his hand to David’s forehead. The skin is hot, but David is clearly cold, holding his blanket tightly around his shoulders and cuddling into Robbe’s warmth.
“You’re really hot little man, where do you feel sick?”
Bowie nods against his chest, mumbling from inside his little cocoon, “I have a headache and my throat hurts.”
“Definitely sick.” Robbe mutters, petting at the hair he can reach, smoothing it away from David’s forehead.
Robbe shifts back, bringing David with him and rolling carefully over, so David is tucked between him and Sander. “You can sleep with me and Dad tonight, okay? Do you want some medicine?”
David shakes his head sleepily, eyelids drooping as he snuggles deeper into the bed.
Robbe rearranges the blankets so they cover the three of them and then curls up against David’s side, throwing an arm over him and tugging him in so he can feel David’s small breaths puffing over his throat.
Robbe settles in and falls asleep, clutching David to his side and hoping that it’s nothing more than a cold.
+++
It’s definitely more than a cold.
Robbe is woken up again by coughing.
It’s morning now, at least, pale light just peeking through the fabric hanging over the windows.
David is a feverish ball, coiled up beside him, his body somehow running even hotter than the night before.
“Fuck.” Robbe mutters under his breath, deciding to berate himself for the swearing later.
David looks much worse in the faint light, face flushed, hair sweaty and plastered to his forehead. He’s awake, his brown eyes drooping with fatigue. He coughs again, harder this time and Robbe hates the way it rattles his little body.
Robbe reaches out and starts running a hand over David’s back, up and down in smooth strokes. “Where does it hurt?”
“My throat.” David croaks and fuck that does not sound good. “Mm, and my head still hurts.”
Robbe peers over to the other side of the bed, Sander is still fast asleep, Robbe can see the lines of his back and shoulders where the covers have slipped off him. Thank god it’s Sunday and neither of them have any place to be, but he’d still like to let Sander sleep, so he crawls out of bed and then leans back down to scoop David up. “Okay, let’s go to the kitchen and we’ll give you some Panadol.”
David mumbles an okay into the skin of Robbe’s neck and then buries himself under his chin, legs dangling, and arms looped around Robbe neck. He’s probably a bit big to be carried around, but Robbe feels like coddling him today.
The bedroom door is still open from when David came in the night before, so Robbe eases it closed behind him.
He carries David through to the kitchen, setting him down on one of the bar stools and then walking around the counter to the overhead cabinet where they keep their medicine. He lifts out the liquid Panadol, unscrewing the cap and pouring up to the line in the little measuring cup.
He nudges it across the benchtop to David. David takes the cup without a word, tipping it up to his lips. His face twists at the taste, his eyes screwed up and his tongue stuck out in disgust. Robbe smiles to himself, taking the cup back and washing it out in the sink.
David’s coughing starts up again and Robbe grimaces, worry sitting heavy in his stomach. “I’ll make you some lemon green tea.”
David nods meekly and Robbe gives him a sympathetic frown.
Robbe switches on the kettle to boil, retrieving a tea bag and a mug from the cupboard.
They stay quiet as the kettle bubbles and spits. David didn’t get sick much, mostly just stomach aches and runny noses, so when he does get sick it takes him out. Robbe watches as David sluggishly lifts a hand and pokes at his neck.
“It’s lumpy,” he mumbles, prodding at the skin.
Robbe moves over to him. “Where?”
David points to the line of his jaw, up near his ear and Robbe gently traces his finger over the skin, skating over a painful looking bump.
“Shit.” Robbe mutters, his concern mounting. He can’t tell if it’s swollen glands, tonsils. He’s trying not to panic too much, but anxiety is trilling through his chest. This isn’t something they’ve dealt with before and Robbe doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it, scare David and drag him to the doctor for no reason, but doing nothing is putting him on edge.
The kettle beeps as it finishes boiling and Robbe busies himself dropping the tea bag into the mug and pouring hot water over the top of it and then topping it up with cold water from the tap.
He places it in front of David, reminding him, “Don’t drink it straight away, I put cold water on the top, but it’s still hot.”
David hums and starts blowing on it, the surface rippling with his breaths.
Robbe hears the click of the hallway door as it opens and a few moments later Sander appears in the archway, looking rumpled, but well rested, hair mussed around his head. He’s still shirtless from sleeping, sweatpants slack around his hips, looking gorgeous and domestic.
He ruffles David’s hair as he passes and then slinks up behind Robbe, winding his arms low around Robbe’s waist. Robbe is already tipping his head up when Sander leans down to meet him nudging their lips together in a brief good morning kiss.
“What are you two up to?” Sander asks, swaying Robbe gently from side to side.
“’M sick Daddy.” David rasps, punctuating the sentence with a phlegmy cough. Sander draws away from Robbe, his arms dropping to his sides, and furrows his brow.
“What’s wrong?” He looks at David and then at Robbe before edging around the counter, pulling up a chair beside David as he drinks his tea, looking him over, searching for obvious signs of distress.
Robbe knows he sounds worried when he replies. “He came into our bedroom at around three with a fever and I pulled him into bed with us, but it’s gotten worse this morning, he’s coughing, and his throat’s swollen.”
Sander frowns and Robbe can tell he’s troubled. Sander lifts David carefully out of his chair and wraps him in a tight hug. “That’s no good.”
David makes a noise of agreement, already looking sleepy again, slumping in Sander’s arms. He’s always a little clingier when he’s sick, not that either of them mind.
Sander gets out of his seat, David still securely in his arms and gestures down the hall. “I’m gonna put him back to bed, he can sleep for a bit longer.”
Robbe nods and follows them, waiting at the end of the hall as Sander disappears into David’s room, returning a minute or later, carefully pulling the door shut.
“He really doesn’t sound good,” Sander admits.
Robbe gnaws on his lip, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “Should we take him to the doctor? I don’t want to scare him.”
Sander steps into his space, bumping their feet together and pressing his lips to Robbe’s temple. “He can handle it, we should go, just to make sure it’s nothing to worry about.”
Robbe sighs and nods against the side of Sander’s face. “Okay we’ll take him this afternoon if we can get an appointment.”
“I’ll call the GP after I have a coffee.”
Robbe nods again, but doesn’t say anything, irrational worry still eating at his insides.
Sander ducks down and presses a kiss to his cheek. “It’s okay baby, everything is probably fine and even if it’s not, we’ll deal with it as it comes.”
Robbe shifts further into his embrace, running his hands up Sander’s shoulder blades, the skin warm under his hands.
“Okay,” he murmurs into Sander’s sternum.
Sander kisses him again, like he can’t help himself. “Come on, I’ll make you some toast if you’re lucky.”
Robbe rolls his eyes, but still let’s Sander pull him into the kitchen by the hand.
+++
Robbe forgot how much he hates doctors’ offices.
The smell isn’t quite as bad as hospitals, but still too unnatural. There’s a weird quiet too, even though people are speaking, like no one really knows what to talk about in here.
Robbe realizes his leg jiggling has started up again, the plastic chair quivering with the movement, so he deliberately crosses his legs to stop it.
At least David seems content, attention captured by some TV episode Sander pulled up for him on his phone. Sander is flipping through a dated gossip magazine, thumbing absently through the pages. He glances up and catches Robbe looking at him, flashing him a smile and holding up the magazine, “Did you hear Timothée Chalamet secretly got married?”
Robbe laughs, shaking his head with an amused smile.
The reception lady calls out into the room, “David?”
They stand, Sander taking his phone and shoving it into his pocket, latching onto David’s hand.
The lady indicates down a small hallway. “Third door on the left.”
They do as she says, finding the room without much trouble and Sander knocks lightly before pushing the door partly open.
A woman swings around in her desk chair, smiling. “Come in.”
There are only two seats next to the doctor’s desk, so Sander takes one and Robbe takes the other, sitting David on his lap.
“I’m Doctor Tillens, what’s brought you in?”
“Our son’s come down with a fever, at first we thought it was just a cold and it might be, but he says his throat is really sore and it’s gotten pretty swollen.” Robbe explains, voice rushed in his nervousness.
The doctor nods, writing a couple of quick notes before standing. “Yeah okay, let’s take a look, do you mind bringing him over to the table?”
“Yeah, no worries— come on.” Sander gets up from his seat, picking David up from his place in Robbe’s lap and sets him down on the bed.
David swings his legs, inspecting the room idly.
Dr Tillens approaches him with an open smile. “Hi, what’s your name?”
David watches her curiously. “David.”
“Okay David, “I’m going to lift up your shirt for a minute to check your heart, okay?”
“Okay.”
She unhooks her stethoscope from around her neck, putting the earpieces in and slowly lifting David’s shirt. She puts the diaphragm to his chest, listening for a moment and then asking, “Can you cough for me?”
David does as she asks and then she puts the stethoscope away, reaching over into a set of little plastic draws and pulling out a flat wooden popsicle stick. “Okay, can you open your mouth and say ‘ah’?”
She does another couple of checks, inspecting David’s neck and underarms and asking him a few short questions as Robbe and Sander wait anxiously off to the side. Well, Robbe is anxious, Sander is staying calm for his sake.
Finally, she turns to them. “Okay so it looks like he has mononucleosis, I’ve checked, and he doesn’t have a rash, but his tonsils and lymph nodes are swollen and that could get a bit worse in the coming days. All he needs is rest and to make sure he stays hydrated and he should be fine. You can give him some mild pain relievers, Panadol, Nurofen and just monitor him. If he gets much worse, bring him back or take him to the hospital, but as I said he should be fine.”
Robbe huffs out a relieved sigh and even Sander relaxes, the minute stiffness to his posture that Robbe hadn’t even picked up on, dissipating.
“Okay great, thank you.” Robbe rises, brushing his hands on his jeans and then giving David his hand to help him jump down from the table.
“No problem, have a good rest of the day.” The doctor smiles at them as they make their way to the door.
David keeps holding Robbe’s hand all the way to the carpark and Robbe can’t be blamed if he squeezes a little bit tighter.
+++
They call the school on Monday to notify them of David’s absence and apparently a couple of other kids have come down with mono too, which explains where David got it.
Sander takes the day off work to stay with him, claiming that Robbe is the big breadwinner in their family.
Robbe goes to work, but his heart stays at home, wrapped up in stripy blue sheets.
When he gets home in the afternoon, he discovers Sander and David curled up on the couch watching School of Rock for what has got to be the fortieth time. If they didn’t get so into it Robbe would have more things to say about it, but the way David and Sander sing the words to all the songs in low voices is the cutest fucking thing he’s ever seen, so he allows it.
But David isn’t singing today, his throat is too sore and so Robbe walks in on Sander singing Immigrant Song solo, and very badly, as David coughs out a giggle.
They order pizza because neither of them can be bothered cooking and David insists that his throat isn’t too sore to eat pizza.
He only ends up eating two slices of Sander’s before falling asleep against the side of his arm and Robbe sets his own pizza box aside to carry David to bed.
When he returns to the living room Sander manages to trick him into making out on the couch for a half an hour, insisting that if he’s going to get ‘the kissing disease’ he’s going to get it from Robbe, which is funny until he starts kissing up Robbe’s neck.
They tumble into bed just after ten pm and Robbe slips into sleep easier than breathing for once, Sander’s arm clutched to his chest and his pleasant weight at his back.
He wakes up in the middle of the night, warm but not as warm as usual and when he stretches out an arm searching for Sander, he finds the space beside him empty.
He sits up confused, patting around some more, but Sander is gone.
Robbe climbs out of bed regretfully, already cold, and ducks into the kitchen, but Sander isn’t there either, the lights are off, and the room is still.
He treads back down the hallway, stopping when he sees David’s bedroom door open a crack. He prods it wider, looking into the room when his heart suddenly lodges in his throat.
David is nestled in his bed, hands curled beside his face as he sleeps. And next to him is Sander, lying on his side, his arm cushioning David’s head, their noses almost touching.
Robbe stands in the doorway and just looks, sure that this is one of those moments he’ll remember for the rest of his life, a memory he’ll play over and over until it’s worn out like an old jumper.
But for now he lets them sleep.
+++