Chapter Text
Philza was absolutely not in the mood to wake up at three in the morning to someone knocking loudly on his door.
He groaned and sat up, wincing when he swallowed, his throat stinging in protest. His wings splayed out behind him, ruffled and drooping in exhaustion.
"What?" he called out, scrubbing at his burning eyes. He was way too tired to get up right now.
"Um," Jack's voice rang out from the other side, hesitant. "Are y'decent?"
Phil chuckled in spite of himself, even as irritated as he was. "Yeah, 'course," he called back. "Come in, Jack."
The wood door creaked as it opened, revealing a shivering Jack, wrapped in one of his fireproof blankets. His glasses and headphones were askew, tired lines tracing his face.
Immediately Phil was up, worry pushing him to walk over to Jack and press a gentle hand against his forehead.
"What's wrong, mate?" he asked worriedly. Jack was cold to the touch, frighteneing considering his DNA.
"'M cold," Jack murmured, tugging the blanket closer. "Was jus' gonna ask where the lava pit was."
"Lava pit?"
"Mhm. I think I'm sick," Jack murmured, rubbing his eyes like a little kid past bedtime.
"And lava helps you heat up properly," Philza guessed, rubbing and down Jack's arms.
"Mhm," Jack hummed, eyes beginning to droop in exhaustion.
"Okay, mate. Let's get you down to the lava pit, yeah?"
Jack nodded tiredly, letting Phil lead him out of his room and down off the Pube.
It took some time- and more than enough stumbling on Jack's part to activate Phil's mother hen- but they eventually managed to find the lava pit again.
The brightness of the lava stung Phil's eyes a bit, making the beginnings of a headache flare, especially as he helped Jack sink into it. But it faded just as quickly as it had come, and Phil didn't think anymore on it.
He glanced at Jack one last time before fluffing up his tired wings, and flying back up into the Pube. He needed to build a barrier around Jack. Mobs were not kind to players, no matter how sick they were, and the last thing Jack needed right now was a mob assault.
He went through every chest in his room, quietly digging until he'd found a good amount of stone.
He made a beeline back to the pit, nervous about leaving Jack alone in the dark for too long. He relaxed a little when he spotted Jack sleeping, but no monsters in sight. At least, not near the pit.
Even more worrying than a potential monster ambush: by the time he'd finished off the barrier, he was exhausted, and the headache from before had flared again. His adrenaline had worn off quickly, peeling away from him like a tattered old cloak.
He stumbled a couple times on the way back up to the Pube- both in the air and on the ground surrounding the headquarters. He barely made it up to the top, having to rely on the waterfall to get up the rest of the way when his wings protested.
He trudged slowly to his room and immediately flopped onto his bed, wings spreading out heavily across his back and draping across the covers.
Then he was out like a light, limbs heavy.
He woke several hours later to coughing from somewhere in the Pube.
He groaned, rolling over and sending a heated glare up at the ceiling.
If Jack did actually have what seemed to be the beginnings of the flu, then someone else might have caught it. Especially with their living quarters being as tight-knit as they were.
He forced himself to sit up, feeling his eyes burn again. The coughing echoed through the hallway again, close to his own room now. Reluctantly, he stood, tiredly folding his wings against his back.
The coughing, as it turns out, was coming from Techno's room. He knocked softly on the door before cracking it open, poking his head in.
"Tech?" he called worriedly.
"Hey, Phil," came a raspy voice, muffled by layers upon layers of blankets amassed in the center of the bed. The fluffy pile was shaking, another string of coughs escaping it as it moved a little in what Phil assumed was Techno curling up.
"You feelin' alright, mate?"
Techno grunted. "Not really. Not vibin', Phil."
Phil chuckled, smiling softly as Techno poked his head out and met his eyes.
"You doin' okay?" Techno asked him, though the dark smudges under his eyes testified against his being anywhere but his bed.
Phil hung his head, sighing deeply. "I think Jack got the flu," he said, dodging the question. "It's probably gonna spread to everyone else."
"Great. Tell Jack I say thanks, then. What a blessin'."
Phil laughed, opening the door a little more and coming to crouch at Techno's side. He gently pet at his friend's long ears, frowning when Techno shivered again, eyes drooping exhaustedly.
"You need anything before I go check on everyone?"
"Nah," he drawled, then paused. "Actually, some water and meds'd probably be good. And a bucket?"
Phil's brow furrowed in concern, his hand stopping to rest on Techno's warm forehead. "Feeling sick?"
"Not right now," Techno admitted. "But if 's the flu, 'm probably gonna need it."
Phil nodded, smoothing down the fur on Techno's ears before quickly making his way to the kitchen.
Tommy was sitting at the island in the kitchen, shivering miserably, head in his arms and looking absolutely miserable.
Phil filled up two glasses of water, wordlessly sliding one across the counter to Tommy and snagging some fresh carrots from the bottom drawer of the fridge.
He snagged a couple buckets from under the sink, then swung by the bathroom for more medicine.
He was grateful that at least the Pube was relatively well-organised. The next several days would be so much more difficult to get through if it wasn't.
God, the next several days, he realised with a small groan. This wasn't going to be easy.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, steeling himself, then shouldered Techno's door open.
Once Techno was settled (his tiny grin at seeing the carrots Phil had snuck in for him was more than worth the effort to get them), Phil went back to check on Tommy.
The kid was still sitting at the counter, shivering- but now he'd propped his head against his hand and was drinking the water Phil had left for him.
"Hey, King," Phil said, walking over to lean on the other side of the counter.
"Thanks for. . ." Tommy trailed off, raising his glass a little in thanks.
"No problem," Phil said. "You feeling sick at all?" There was no sugarcoating it with Tommy, he decided; either he'd go to bed now or he would later, but in a much worse state.
"Nah," Tommy replied quietly, though his entire body protested against it. "'M a big man, Philza Minecraft."
"Right," Phil said dryly, but he was smiling a little. He hadn't expected this to be easy. "That why you're shivering, then?"
Tommy glared at him, flipping him the bird, "Shut up, this is just my natural state. Sometimes mans has to shiver, alright?"
He saw Tommy smile when he laughed in response, and he knew then he'd been convinced. He would come to bed.
Good. One less person he has to worry will overwork themselves.
Once Tommy was under his own covers, shivering and coughing, Phil tried to relax a little more. One more person in bed and taken care of. He gave Tommy some meds and more water, and then made to leave, to try to gather everyone outside of the Pube.
It was less likely that they had caught anything from Jack, but if they had, there no way Phil was going to leave them to suffer by themselves.
Tommy's hand wrapped around his wrist before he could leave, though, fever-bright blue eyes looking up at him desperately.
"Please stay," came the quiet plea, and something in Phil's heart twisted painfully. Tommy must've felt awful if he was being this open about it.
He sat on the edge of the bed, gently prying Tommy's hand off and taking it into his own. He looked Tommy in the eye, trying to come across as gentle as he could. "Toms, I gotta check on everyone else. I think there's a flu spreading 'round."
Tommy's face fell at the words, but Phil brightened after a moment, placing his other hand on Tommy's shoulder, "D'you want me to get Tubbo? He can sit with you, yeah?"
Tommy lit up instantly, nodding with a wide grin. He allowed Phil to get up this time, whining a little from the cold as the blankets shifted around him.
Phil strode quickly to Tubbo's room, only a few doors down, and knocked softly.
Tubbo was still asleep when Phil opened the door, the bee's wings fluttering a little as tiny buzzes escaped every couple of breaths.
Phil crouched by the bed, shaking Tubbo's shoulder gently, just enough to rouse him.
By the second shake, he was cracking his eyes open and sitting up slowly, yawning as he moved to dangle his legs over the side of the bed.
"What's up, Big Man?" he mumbled sleepily, rubbing at his eyes.
Phil' eyes widened in worry: Tubbo's cheeks were flushed, red dusted across his freckles and dark circles smudged under his eyes like charcoal.
He pressed a hand to his friend's forehead, brow furrowing in concern. Both because Tubbo was about to fall back asleep just from leaning into Phil's chest, and from how warm he was.
He winced: Tubbo was sick, too.
He pulled his hand away, moving to carefully grip Tubbo's shoulders.
"Tommy's sick, and probably everyone else, too," Phil started, making sure to be deliberate with his words so Tubbo's half-awake brain could still comprehend it. "I'm gonna go check on everyone. Could you go sit with Tommy? You can sleep in his bed if you want. I'm sure he won't mind."
Tubbo yawned again and nodded. He glanced up at Phil, eyes gleaming with worry under the faint touch of fever-glaze, "Make sure Boo isn't sick, too, 'kay?"
"I will," Phil promised, helping Tubbo up and guiding him to Tommy's room.
Tommy immediately roped Tubbo into bed with a happy "Tobey!", and Tubbo fell onto the bed without complaint, wrapping himself tightly around his best friend.
As soon as Phil was sure they would be fine on their own for a little while, he stepped out again, fluffing his wings out in preparation to glide back off the Pube.
He scrubbed a hand over his face in a vain attempt to curb the headache still pulsing painfully at the back of his skull, and heaved out a sigh.
He'd better check on Jack.