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George wakes up to three things clinging to him. The first two are well accustomed and welcomed. Tommy’s snuggled up to his side, burrowing close against George as little puffs of air escape his lips. Typically him and Dream have been trying to put their foot down with Tommy climbing into bed these days but there was an intense thunderstorm the night before so they gave in.
The second is Dream’s arm draped across Tommy and across George’s waist. It pulls them close to Dream so they’re all sandwiched together. Normally George would love this. Cuddle piles are ten out of ten especially during the winter. Having his husband and son, his little family so close together makes a warmth stir deep in George’s chest. Everything just feels so right. So perfect.
Well it would if it wasn’t for the third thing clinging to him. A layer of sweat clings to him making his skin sheen. Low pants escape his lips as his breathing has become rather labored. His hair is plastered to his forehead which is no doubt burning up. With careful movements George is able to get one of his arms free to reach towards his very much flushed face. He winces as his hand makes contact with his forehead. A chill wracks his body as he pulls it away from his skin scalding to the touch.
For a couple minutes George just stares in the direction of the ceiling in the pitch dark. The good thing is that it’s Saturday so he doesn’t have to go into work. Doesn’t have to worry about the fiasco that is the process to call out. However, today was supposed to be his catch up day. The house definitely needs to be cleaned and…
George sighs. Of course Dream can do it but George likes things a certain way. Still, his husband is fully capable of doing the wash, vacuuming, cleaning the kitchen. They take turns doing it but this round is George’s. And he knows Dream has had a long week.
He doesn’t complain to George. Doesn’t dump it on him. But George has known Dream long enough to recognize the tension that lines his body, the meaning behind his scrunched eyebrows, and the way his hands constantly fiddle. Dream is under an immense amount of stress.
So really, George scrunches his nose up irritably, George being sick is the absolute last thing he needs. It’s the last thing they need. On top of cleaning Tubbo was supposed to come over today but George can’t in good conscious allow a child over when there’s a possibility they’ll catch what he has.
So Tommy will be bummed about that. George scrubs at his face miserably.
The thought makes him jolt a bit. He’s definitely sick. Who knows if what he has is contagious? George’s eyes widen drastically as a panic pangs in his chest. A horrid idea swirls in his mind. If George gets Tommy sick, it’ll make Dream spiral. He hates when Tommy gets sick. It causes flashbacks which only George can soothe. But if George is sick properly calming Dream down will be a bit difficult. Plus that means he’ll have to take care of both George and Tommy.
If George gets Dream sick that’s both members of the team out of commission. Tommy will be through the roof upset that he can’t see either of his parents. George would have to call Sapnap and
George scrunches his eyes closed pushing the thought away. Right well, best to get away from them so those awful scenarios don’t come to life. Plus it would be a good idea to get the thermometer from the kitchen to check his temperature.
George bites the inside of his cheek as he’s faced with an impossible task. Shimmying out of Dream’s strong hold while not jostling Tommy next to him. Avoiding waking either of them.
George exhales slowly. It causes pain to flare in his lungs. Great.
It takes a lot of effort that he simply doesn’t have yet he still somehow manages. He peels Dream’s arm off him with great difficulty. He can hear Dream mumble in his sleep at the movement. Tommy starts to scrunch his eyes in discomfort as George detaches his warmth from
him. Strategically, and swiftly, George places Dream’s arm around Tommy. The weight of it eases Tommy back into a peaceful slumber and results in Dream pulling him closer.
George slowly removes his hands lifting them in the air. He waits a few good moments to make sure the coast is clear. Upon zero movement from his family George deems it safe.
He lifts his body from the covers grimacing how they stick to him. Disgusting.
He swings his feet over the side of the bed. The action makes his head swim. George stubbornly ignores it, pursing his lips as he slides off the bed. The dizziness ramps up the second George is on his feet. George sways. He’s forced to grab the bed post to steady himself.
He breathes slowly feeling an itch in his throat and a gasping sensation from his lungs. He blinks slowly gathering his surroundings. He closes his eyes mentally ready to just collapse to the ground in defeat.
Because, because. George stares down at his feet miserably at the realization. He can barely stand up straight. His head is spinning. He’s burning up. Can barely get air in his lungs. And he has to make it down the stairs.
Eventually George pulls away from the bedpost. He can, he can definitely do this.
One step in front of the other. George wobbles so badly it reminds him of when Tommy was first learning to walk.
George takes a break as his vision blurs a bit. He leans against the wall glancing behind him back to the bed. Maybe…maybe he should wake Dream to help him?
George considers it for about two seconds before scowling. He’s an adult. A parent for god’s sake. He can take care of a little cold.
With a renewed vigor George reaches the door. He opens it quietly, relief flooding him as it emits no creak. He advances into the hallway. The carpet feels awful under his feet. His senses thrown into a havoc.
George places his hand out, letting the wall guide him to the stairs. He knows he’s almost reached them when his hand brushes against a light switch.
George is hesitant to flip it because it’ll give away that he’s awake and not where he’s supposed to be but he also knows in his state descending the already dangerous steps in the dark would be less than a great idea.
As the overhead lights flicker to life George slams his eyes shut. His head pounds in a steady agonizing rhythm. George swallows thickly as he gazes upon the stairs that have never seemed so long before. So many steps.
George clutches the railing like his life depends on it as he takes the first step. Cause honestly it probably does. If he falls down the stairs…
George scolds himself, swatting at his face, focus focus.
George wobbles the entire way. His ankles strain against his weight. His hand feels drenched in sweat as it slipperily clutches the railing.
George attempts to keep his breathing even. One foot in front of the other. Just, another step. Almost there.
Miraculously, George survives the endeavor. He’s quick to locate the kitchen light switch smacking at it with an unnecessary force. This time he’s prepared for the blinding light.
Even so he squints his eyes. George more shuffles than walks forward. He mumbles grumpily as his eyes linger along the dirty dishes resting in the sink. Luckily the medicine cabinet is halfway into the kitchen.
George swings it open nearly falling over from the motion. Another chill wracks his body as he grips the counter for support. He breathes in and out. In and out.
He’s got this. He just, needs to check his temperature to confirm he’s sick and then he can pass out on the couch in the family room. Although, George glances down at the kitchen’s tiled floor, the floor is looking rather tempting at the moment. It’s probably cool to the touch. Hmm.
George’s grip tightens against the counter till his knuckles turn white. He shakes his head roughly only realizing that’s not a good idea after the action has been done. He’s not thinking straight.
George raises his head so he can scour for the thermometer. His blood near boils when he spots it. He mumbles curses under his breath. Damn his stupid husband.
George glares at the thermometer with deep intensity. It rests innocently on the top shelf. Which George, can’t reach.
He’s never wanted to bang his head on the counter so badly.
George stares at it. And stares. And stares. Maybe crumbling to the floor wasn’t such a bad idea.
The sound of the pitter patter of feet makes George swing his head towards the stairs. His pulse thrums louder and louder. Please please let this be his ill ridden mind’s imagination.
Maybe if he closes his eyes and opens them again they’ll be nothing there. An empty space. No cause of little pitter patters. Definitely not his baby awake. Nope, definitely not.
George closes his eyes counting down from ten. Which proves rather difficult with the jackhammering pulse throbbing to life in his head.
“Papa?”
George audibly groans, opening his eyes to be met with blonde curls going every which way and innocent sleep tinged concerned eyes staring up at him. There’s a small pout on his lips. Even at his age he can tell something’s wrong.
George struggles to smile, “Hi baby.”
Tommy tilts his head inspecting George, “You’re really red Papa.”
George brushes at the sweaty hair against his forehead hoping Tommy won’t get any closer, “I’m fine honey.”
The real question is how the hell Tommy managed to escape Dream’s hold. George is beyond impressed however this is really working against his favor.
Tommy continues to frown up at him not exactly believing him. George bites his lip as he sees tears start to form in Tommy’s eyes. Oh boy.
George swallows around the threat of acidic bile rising from his stomach. He smiles weakly putting on a brave face. He wants to reach out and wipe away at the tears but he’s way more focused on keeping Tommy at bay, “Hey shh, it’s okay. Why don’t you go back upstairs with Daddy?”
Tommy sniffles loudly rubbing at him eyes, “Wan you.”
It’s sweet. Adorable. But horribly inconvenient.
George blinks away the spots in his eyes. That…certainly can’t be good.
“George?”
George raises his head from where he hadn’t realize it had fallen. His entire body is heavy. Weighing him down. Begging to collapse.
Dream stands next to Tommy, sporting a twin frown. He looks George up and down. Eyes lingering on his flushed face, the sheen of sweat clinging to him, and the way he’s clutching the counter. Concern swirls deep in Dream’s chest. George looks beyond ill.
It comes out as a whine from Dream’s lips, “Why didn’t you wake me? You look horrible honey.”
George opens his mouth and then closes it as a wave of nausea hits him. He gasps weakly. He attempts to straighten his posture and fails disastrously. He knows he doesn’t sound the slightest bit convincing, “Mm fine.”
Tommy tugs on Dream’s shirt, “Something’s wrong with Papa.”
Dream hums, “I agree bubs.”
Dream makes quick strides towards George. George raises a hand in the air, “Dreamy I am perfectly fine I-“
Dream doesn’t consider a single word of it. Scooping up George before he can hit the floor. Dream frowns as he holds George close to his chest feeling his skin burn against him. He wipes George’s hair away from his sweaty forehead. George blinks blearily up at him. He can’t deny how much better it feels not being forced to hold up his own weight anymore.
Dream’s voice is quiet, soft, “Did you check your temperature?”
George’s moment of peace and calm is instantly shattered. His eyebrows furrow, his nose scrunches, and a scowl paints his face, “I would have but I live with a stupid giant that forgets regular people exist.”
Dream smiles down with a sheepish grin, “You know you could have just said no Georgie.”
George glares at him, “Shove it.”
Dream tsks lowly, “You’re always so grumpy when you’re sick.”
He walks forward and easily reaches for the thermometer in the cabinet.
George raises an eyebrow indignantly, scandalized at the accusation, “Excuse me?”
A smirk twitches at Dream’s lips, “Nothing darling.”
George allows Dream to tilt his head so he can properly place the thermometer. It’s one that goes in the ear. The type they’ve found Tommy hates the least.
The signature beep has everyone a little anxious as Dream withdraws it. He raises it, squinting to make out the numbers.
Tommy walks over till he’s hugging Dream’s leg, face smushed against it seeking comfort, “Papa okay?”
Dream smiles, sets the thermometer, and ruffles Tommy’s hair affectionately, “He will be. We just have to help him get better okay?”
Tommy’s frown remains even as he nods his head dutifully. George practically never gets sick so when he does it really throws Tommy for a loop.
Tommy stands on his tippy toes to peak at George. His Papa smiles at him but Tommy knows he doesn’t feel right. It makes more sadness build, “Daddy I can help.”
George coughs roughly into his elbow, his voice is scratchy, “No baby. You can help by staying down here okay? Play with some stuffies.”
Tommy shakes his head roughly, the tears are back, he sniffles harshly, “Stay with you.”
Dream goes back to brushing Tommy’s hair in a soothing manner, “It’s okay Toms. Papa just needs some rest.”
Tommy brightens a bit, rubbing away at the tears as his eyes search Dream’s hopefully, “Snuggles?”
A smile grows on Dream’s face as George shoves his own into Dream’s chest. Why do his child have to be so damn cute when he can’t be within a foot of him.
George feels the vibration as Dream hums thoughtfully, “That’s very nice of you Tommy but we have to give Papa space.”
Tommy lets go of Dream’s leg. It’s a mixture of a pout and a defiant glare, “Why?”
Dream takes a glance at George who simply stares back at Dream curious if this is going to end into a meltdown or not.
Dream swallows thickly. He’s got this. If he made it through the terrible twos he can make it through anything.
He makes sure he’s giving Tommy his full attention, “Papa is sick so if we get too close we might get sick too.”
It’s a fairly straightforward explanation. Definitely enough for Tommy to understand. The real question at hand is if Tommy will accept it.
Tommy tilts his head, then he rubs at one eye sleepily again, “But you have Papa.”
Dream opens his mouth and then closes it. George snorts against him making a smirk twitch at Dream’s lips, “You’re right, I’ll go put him down.”
George closes his eyes as they start to move, his protests are weak but they’re there, “Oh yes just manhandle me all you want.”
Dream pauses as he makes it to the top of the stairs. His hand drifts a tad, “Don’t mind if I do.”
George’s eyes fly open as he glares at Dream with the last bits of his consciousness, “You, I-“, he gasps for breath.
Dream’s playful smile dips a tad, “You okay?”
Tommy is quickly at their side. His eyes flit between Dream and George. He doesn’t quite connect the dots as to what happened but he can sense the worry rising. He tugs at Dream, “Daddy come on!”
A wheeze builds lowly in Dream’s chest, “Okay okay! I’m going.”
Tommy decides to take things into his own hands, marching forward and opening the door to the bedroom. As Dream follows in with a growing unconscious George Tommy bounces on his feet anxiously.
George isn’t sure how to feel once he’s placed into bed. Dream settles him in gently. Pillow below his head in a way it won’t hurt his neck. Heavy covers pulled away so there’s just a sheet.
The bed is cool to the touch which is very welcome. But at the same time the feeling of being held is arguably better. George scrunches his eyebrows in debate.
Dream watches George thinking about what to do first. The fever, being a hundred and two, is the first thing that should be tackled. Dream bends down to peck a kiss on George’s head, “I’ll be right back love.”
George simply hums in confirmation. As Dream leaves his side George picks up on movement in the bed. He props his head up a bit met with the sight of Tommy crawling across the bed. He’s impressed Tommy was able to climb up it. It’s a decent height off the ground.
Worry builds in George’s chest along with a cough. Tommy moves himself so he’s right next to his Papa’s head. He sits criss cross applesauce and stares. George smiles at him, “Hi.”
Tommy’s eyes meet George’s, a small smile builds on his face, “Hi!”
George closes his eyes for a moment in attempt to soothe his aching head. He opens them to find Tommy staring at him intently. George knows what to say, “Tommy I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here. But I need you,” George points at Tommy barely resisting from bopping his nose, “to stay back.”
That pout returns to Tommy’s face. Also returning, is Dream. George flinches roughly as something soaked touches his skin. His eyes are wide in alarm until….oh
Dream presses down on the material gently, “I figured a wet washcloth was a good idea. Do you want some cold medicine?”
George considers for a moment, the cool from the wash cloth is immensely soothing, “No. I think I’ll just see how I am after some sleep.”
Dream hums, brushing at George’s hair, “I’m sorry love.”
George smiles at Dream. Always so considerate. George clasps at his hand, “It’s not your fault. I’ll be fine.”
Dream lowers his hand to cup George’s face, he strokes his thumb against his cheek, “I know.”
Tommy decides it’s time for them to remember he’s still very much not happy about this. He shuffles forward so he’s close to both of them. There’s a determination in his eyes, “Daddy go, I’ll stay.”
Dream’s eyes shine with amusement, “Oh really?”
Okay maybe George’s words didn’t work as much as he thought they did.
Tommy crosses his arms defiantly, “Yes.”
George fights back the sleep grasping at his mind in efforts to soothe Tommy, “Honey. It’s okay. It’ll make me even more sad if you get sick too.”
Tommy falters at the tone in his Papa’s voice. His arms droop downward. His voice is quiet, “More sad?”
George internally cheers, right don’t fumble it, “Mhm. I want my boy nice and healthy. It’ll help me get better.”
Tommy lifts his eyes, “It will?”
Victory dances on George’s lips, “Yes.”
Dream and George intently monitor Tommy as he stares down at the bed. Perhaps a minute goes by until he nods slowly, “Okay…”
George’s smile holds all the adornment in the world. It truly does make him feel better. George moves a hand to tap where his heart is.
It immediately gets a smile out of Tommy who does the same, patting over his heart.
It’s their little, ‘I love you’, gesture.
Dream moves fast before Tommy can change his mind. He hoists Tommy from the bed and makes the decision to rest him on his hip instead of the ground so Tommy doesn’t instantly try to get back on the bed, “Alright bubs, say night night to Papa.”
Tommy squirms a bit but he still ends up waving, “Night night Papa.”
George waves back weakly, “Good night baby.”
His eyes close moments after. Unable to keep them open long enough to see his family go.
Throughout the day things get a little better. Dream keeps an eye on Tommy, allowing small visits when George is awake. Tommy gives George all the presents in the world. Little drawings, his stuffies, a playdough cupcake.
All the gifts, the I love yous, and the concerned yet loving looks are enough to make George feel healed on the inside even if his body hasn’t quite caught up. Night approaches as George snuggles with a teddy bear Tommy gifted him. With his family by his side he knows everything will always work out. Together they can make it through everything and anything.
George’s eyes droop as the door creaks open. Moments later an arm drapes across George. He doesn’t fight it, snuggling a bit closer allowing sleep to take him once again.