Chapter Text
They’re very clearly no longer conscious of what they’re saying, and Moon is getting worried. Until now, Viper has been a reliable coworker – they’ve shown more patience to Sun, more patience to him, than any other employee has for a long, long time. Patience for their antics, their hang-ups, their demands. Sun has been saying it’s a sign of kindness. Moon is beginning to believe it.
“… m’bee I should…” He gives them his full attention again, wondering if they’ve managed to claw their way back to rationality. With how high their fever is, though, he doubts it. “Th’re’s these star night ligh’s… like maps…”
Star map night lights? The idea would be distracting if he could be distracted at this point, but Viper needs his concentration. He cannot let his temperature fluctuate or accidentally overlook any signs of nausea. They need to get to the daycare in one piece.
“You’d like ‘em…” they slur, gaze half-lidded and one limp hand touching their knuckles against his chestplate. “So pretty.”
He only hums, trying to quicken the pace without causing any distress.
“Suits you,” they say, a little clearer now. “The star thing. Always liked…” they mutter out something that sounds like a mix between ‘astrology’ and ‘celestial’, mouth not able to form right around either word despite the sounds being there. “That stuff. Don’t… think about it much. Anymore. S’pretty… y’r so pretty…”
Moon stops in his tracks. “Temperature.”
Viper allows his (bordering on frantic) checking of their temperature once again. Surely they wouldn’t be saying that sort of thing if they weren’t dying – they’re not dying, right? They couldn’t, not from this, not from a common cold that he and Sun had seen a hundred times before, not after only three days of knowing them. Sun is going a mile a minute in the back of his mind, but he needs to focus on the temperature and make sure they’re not actually cooking themselves to death.
The scan comes back below deadly range. They’re safe for now.
He needs to cool them down.
“S’awful how…” they groan when Moon begins walking again, but quickly grow used to the movement. “… th’y treat you. Bastards.”
That one was almost startlingly clear, it would make him laugh if not for the (jarring, always so jarring) profanity warning that zings through his system. “Language.”
“S’ry.” They curl in tighter, shivering now. “’m gonna get you out. ‘m gonna…”
“Careful, little snake…” he whispers to them. “Don’t say things that shouldn’t be overheard.”
“Hm?” They blink up at him, clueless. “Moon…?”
“Yes?”
“I think… I r’ly like you two…”
They’re not dying. They’re not. They can’t.
There, right there in the hall, the lights come back on.
They flicker to life just as Viper says that, and now, forced to the back, Moon screams at the unfairness. Now Sun has to take care of them, now Sun has to take his job, his care for those falling asleep, he’s worried and he had them in his hands and he wants and wants and wants—
Sun’s arms shudder. “Sunbite, you should hear him now. So grumpy.”
IT’S HIS TURN!
Not anymore, it isn’t. Sun knows the rules just as well as Moon does – the lights are on, which means the sun must be out. “He’s very worried about you! Moonie’s so grumpy, he thinks the only way people say nice things about him is if something bad is happening. Well,” Sun hums, “something bad is happening, but you’ll be okay, won’t you?”
You huff out a laugh, hot breath against his shoulder. “Doin’ m’ best here.”
“That’s all we’ll ask of you.” Despite the easy chatting, Sun paces through the halls at nearly twice the speed – despite being perfectly capable, he’s not particularly inclined to put comfort over speed in this case. Sunbite needs a safe place now. “Have any other nuggets of wisdom you’d like to share?”
All the way back to the daycare, they mumble through a story about the mountainous region of one of their old homes (apparently there have been many) and close with a lovely idea of taking him to see the sunsets there. It’s truly adorable how attached they seem to the concept; he wonders if it will stick, somehow. He doubts they’ll remember much else of the coming night.
“Rest, Sunbite,” he tells them, laying their shivering form on the thin mattress in their room, crowded with pillows to keep them comfortable. Moon seethes, but he’ll get over it. “We’ll take care of things from here. Sleep.”
“Th’nks Sunnypop… you’re…”
They mumble out a compliment, something that sounds like ‘a good friend’ (which gets immediate, practically violent agreement from both sides, the best, they’ll be the best, promise) but don’t stop there.
“… so pretty…” they smile, completely unaware of the havoc they’re causing. “Both of you…”
Sun pointedly shakes out the jitters in his hands and gets to work.
He knows it’s only the illness talking. He’d like to hear them say it again anyway.
“So did I sleep-talk?”
“Not quite,” Sun laughs. “Only expressed your undying love and support for us… I’d say three or four times?”
Sunbite tilts their head at him, clearly thinking he’s joking. “Right. Well I don’t have a ring for you, so we’ll have to wait to elope.”
“We don’t mind,” he says. In the recesses of their shared processor, Moon loses himself to a giggle fit that ends up lasting a full hour.
It’s true. They don’t mind.