Chapter Text
It was the morning of Christmas Eve, Phil was making sure everything was set perfect for tomorrow. They would be having Sapnap, Dream, Bbh, tubbo, skeppy and ranboo over for dinner. They invited everyone, but most of them had plans, spending time with family, friends, or just by themselves.
Tommy was on his phone, calling tubbo, talking about tomorrow and what they had gotten everybody else.
Techno was sharpening his swords and cleaning his armor, which he did every week. This time it was taking especially long due to some blood stains he should have rinsed off earlier, but he was too tired too.
While Wilbur, he was in bed. He felt miserable, like he had gotten a fever or something. But he didn't tell anyone because he knew Phil would cancel Christmas dinner with him being sick.
He was laying on his back, his pillow on his face. He didn't really know where to put his hands but currently they were resting on his stomach.
"Wil, Tommy!" Phil called.
"Yeah?" He heard his brother shout from his room.
"Come help me with making biscuits and the roasted potatoes!"
Wilbur groaned. He hadn't even had the energy to get out of bed today, let alone go and make things.
He reluctantly went into the kitchen, recognizing how shaky his legs and hands were. He willed himself to stop shaking, though.
"You don't look so hot, Wil." Phil said, almost immediately after walking into the room.
"What do you mean? I'm always hot."
Tommy rolled his eyes. "You wish."
Phil put a hand up to Wilbur's forehead. He sighed, knowing that Phil already knew and there was no point in trying to argue with him.
"Holy shit, mate, you're burning up." Phil said.
Tommy was intrigued at this.
"Let me feel."
He reached a hand up to Wilbur's forehead. Wilbur rolled his eyes.
"Jesus, you are."
"Go sit down, Wil. Tommy, go get there thermometer."
Wilbur reluctantly sat down.
"I'm fine, really."
Phil brushes off the 'I'm fine.'
"How do you feel?" Phil asked, looking down at Wilbur.
"Fine."
Phil just stared at him in response.
"Tsk. Fine, I feel like bloody hell." He put his hands on his face.
"I feel like my stomach is trying to digest itself. I feel so.. weak and hot. But I can't stop bloody shivering."
"You probably caught a case of the flu, mate."
Wilbur groaned in response right as Tommy came back with the thermometer.
"Open." Phil said.
Wilbur would've disobeyed, but he felt too tired to argue. Both Tommy and Phil both caught onto that.
"38.8." Phil sighed.
"That high?!" Tommy exclaimed, unconvinced. He took the thermometer out of Phil's hands, looking at the number for a solid 5 minutes.
"You do realize it's not going to change the more you stare at it?" Wilbur joked.
"We're going to have to cancel tomorrow." Phil said, a bit disappointed.
"No, Phil. I'm fine, really. I'll just hide in my room."
"That's not how to spend Christmas, Wil. And you're not fine, you have a fever of a hundred and bloody eight."
Wilbur closed his eyes, Phil already knew what was coming. Phil reached under the sink to grab a garbage bin.
He shoved it in front of Wilbur.
"Ughhh." Wilbur said, leaning over the bin, his elbows on his knees and his hands on his eyes.
All of them had a feeling this would be a rough fucking Christmas.