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Fit was somewhat used to getting sick. He got sick a few times in the wasteland, which was very expected, considering the environment there. But he hasn’t gotten sick on the island yet. He hadn’t been sick around people that cared before.
He recognized the signs immediately; sore lymph nodes, a hard time hearing, constant headaches, and achy muscles were the easily noticed symptoms. Luckily, all of those could be hidden from people. Being sick in the wasteland was a weakness, and he had people he needed to protect now. He couldn’t be weak or vulnerable.
Two days after the symptoms started appearing, he could tell it was getting worse, but he refused to let it hinder him. He did Ramón’s quests with him, still getting up early to do things before his son woke up. Ramón seemed to notice something was up, but only eyed Fit suspiciously when he brushed the boy off.
After he put his son back to bed, barely getting through his lullaby, Fit noticed that Pac and Mike were online. They’d stopped by earlier, Ramón and Richarlyson doing quests together, while Fit conversed with the other two adults. Pac invited him to come hang out with them after Ramón went back to bed, and Fit had accepted.
He was beginning to regret that, with how tired he was. But he wanted to go see his friends, so he teleported to the Chume Labs to go see what they were doing. It took him longer than he’d like to admit to find the name in his waystone, his vision blurring slightly.
When he got there, he nearly lost his balance, steadying himself out as fast as possible. His feet ached, his arms ached, his ears ached, and he was so tired. He went down the elevator, and found Pac and Mike working on something. Well, it was more like Mike was placing things, and Pac watched him.
He didn’t say anything like he normally did to announce his presence, so instead he just stood next to Pac for a bit. He knew the man saw him, but he didn’t say anything, just scanning him for any signs of injury.
“Hey, Fit, how are you?” Pac asked, lightly putting a hand on Fit’s forearm, then removing it. He knew his partner was trying to gauge his reaction to the physical touch, but he didn’t mention that.
“I’m alright.” His voice was lower than normal, his sickness making it more gravelly.
Pac looked at him in doubt, his beautiful eyes going to his ears and face. “Are- are you sure?”
Fit nodded, small to make sure it wouldn’t worsen his headache. “Yeah.”
The man in the blue hoodie came to stand in front of him, gently putting his hands on his chest and arm. “We both know you aren’t fine. Are you sick?”
Fit couldn’t bring himself to lie a second time to Pac. He nodded, feeling guilty and shameful. He didn’t like hiding things from Pac, but hiding being sick was very important to the safety of himself, and his loved ones.
Pac asked him, “should I tell anyone?” He frantically shook his head, making him feel dizzy.
“No, please don’t do that,” Fit told him, sounding like he was pleading. He pretty much was.
Clearly, Pac hadn’t been expecting that type of response, because he frowned in concern. He gently caressed his face, his hands resting nicely on his cheeks and jaw. He could probably feel the heat coming off them, but he didn’t comment on it. “What’s wrong? You can tell me anything, I promise.”
Fit looked to where Mike stopped working, instead just observing the interaction with an analytical expression.
“Just- please don’t tell anyone. I’ll- I promise I’ll tell you why later,” Fit said, not really feeling up to spilling one of his secrets.
Pac accepted that answer, holding his face for a second longer before he kissed his cheek, letting go of his face. The cold hands had felt good on his warm skin. Fit smiled, but it quickly faded when he felt his head throb, right behind his eyes.
“You should go sit down,” Pac gently suggested, guiding Fit to sit on the floor by the wall. He could still see the doorway, and would be able to see anyone coming in. It was a small comfort, one that he appreciated Pac taking into account.
He sat there for a while, watching the door, and watching Tazercraft work. They bickered in a language he didn’t know that well, but he could hear the friendly tone in their voices. As time wore on, he was beginning to lose focus on his surroundings. One of the worst things about him getting sick was his vision getting blurry, because it meant he couldn’t protect himself, but now he also couldn’t protect his loved ones.
Everything was a little fuzzy, details hard to make out in everything, whether it was near or far. No matter how hard he squinted, nothing got clearer. If anything, it made his vision worse. His thoughts were beginning to lose their sharpness too. They weren’t coming in as quickly, and they were more and more nonsensical.
Out of nowhere it seemed, there was a person in front of him. He could barely see the details of their face, but he recognized the blue hoodie and black hair.
“Fit,” Pac said softly, careful hands gently cupping his face, practically holding up his head. “You need rest. I’m taking you home.”
Fit has enough sense to mumble, “Not home. My other spot. I’ll get killed or bed-trapped at home.”
He heard Pac gasp a little, as if surprised by what he heard, or in realisation of something. Fit wasn’t sure. “Okay, we’ll go to your other spot. You can warp, right?”
Fit nodded, letting Pac pull him up, with Mike’s help, Pac helping to stabilise him. Fit leaned on him, pulling out his warpstone to find the warp to his little cave. Pac followed his lead, finding the warp location.
“Mike, hold Fit, I’ll teleport first,” Pac told his best friend, about to transfer the man in his arms to him. Fit shook his head in objection.
“No, I- I don’t want something to happen to you again,” Fit hoarsely whispered. Pac almost teared up at the genuine fear in his voice. The fear that something would happen to Pac. Not himself.
“Okay, okay, you- you can go first, if that makes you feel better,” Pac conceded, his arms wrapped around Fit’s middle. Mike looked at him with worry, clearly thinking the same thing he was: Fit wouldn’t be able to protect himself if he went through. His partner’s fear was that something would happen to Pac if he teleported away, or was left behind when everyone else teleported.
It was obvious. At first, it might not have been, but now he could see the small action every time they hung out. They would all decide to teleport somewhere, and Fit would always show up after Pac. Always. No matter what, Fit waited for Pac to go before him, so he wasn’t left behind.
Fit fumbled a little, but he managed to disappear in a cloud of purple particles, the weight vanishing from Pac’s arms.
“He needs help. I’ll stay here. More people will overwhelm him, if he’s trying to protect you,” Mike told him. Pac nodded in thanks, teleporting to Fit’s cave area. He saw Fit leaning against the stone wall, seeming to relish in the feeling of the cool rocks on his skin.
“Fit,” Pac called quietly, trying to get his partner’s attention. When Fit looked up at him, it was with eyes that he could tell weren’t focused on him. “Is your spot down the stairs?”
He nodded, pushing off from the wall, losing his balance for a moment, but regaining it quickly. Pac held his forearm, acting as a support so Fit didn’t fall over.
They took the roughly cut stone stairs carefully, Fit leading him to a little room a few steps down. The rest of the staircase seemed to lead to a mine, which was confirmed by Fit when Pac asked him.
“Sorry for asking, but, why do you sleep in a separate area than your house?” Pac asked as he was helping Fit to the bed. He noticed a white sign left behind by Ramón, which meant Ramón also knew about the place.
“Habits. And paranoia,” Fit bluntly said, trying to get his boots off without bending down with his sore body, but gave up. Pac took control, unlacing the boots and slipping them off.
“Habits from the wasteland? Paranoia also from the wasteland?” Pac lightheartedly said, putting the boots by the bookshelf.
Fit laughed a little, still sounding hoarse, and answered, “Yes to both. People went hunting for bases all the time. If they found you sleeping in yours, you’d wake up in a world of hurt. So I sleep somewhere else.”
Pac hummed, and completely changed the conversation. “Would you like your socks off too?”
Fit nodded, too tired to feel embarrassed or guilty that Pac had to take off his boots and socks. When those were removed, Fit took off his pants and shirt, going beneath the covers to keep warm. Being underground wasn’t the warmest, so he preserved heat as best he could. His fever definitely helped keep him warm.
Pac was silent while he did this, just watching him to make sure he was alright. After a few minutes of silence, he kneeled by Fit’s side, grabbing his mechanical hand in both of his.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Pac tried to keep the hurt out of his voice, but he knew Fit heard it, because he looked guilty once again.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you, I promise it’s not that. It’s just- I’m not used to people caring about me when I’m sick. Being sick made it easier to target you. It’s a weakness,” Fit whispered, as if he didn’t want anyone to hear but Pac.
“I’m sorry, that sounds horrible. I’m glad I’m able to take care of you now, though. You don’t need to hide weaknesses from me, Fit,” Pac reassured, kissing Fit’s forehead, feeling the heat coming from it.
“I need to take this off,” Fit grumbled, the fingers on his prosthetic hand wiggling in emphasis.
“Can I?” Pac carefully asked, making sure Fit knew he could refuse the offer.
Fit hummed in response, giving his arm to Pac for him to take off. He’d never actually seen the anarchist without his metal arm, despite how much they’d hung out.
The sick man talked as he worked it off, saying, “I don’t like people seeing me without it, but- but you’re an exception.” Pac smiled at that, pleased to know he was different from everyone else in Fit’s life. He liked knowing that he was the only one, with the exception of probably Ramón, who saw every side of Fit.
“I’m glad I’m an exception. I don’t mind seeing you without it,” Pac told him honestly, setting the metal limb on the nightstand.
Fit smiled at him, a little bit more dopey with his sickness, but Pac smiled back nonetheless. His partner seemed comfortable, now that he wasn’t as worried about getting killed or trapped in an endless loop of respawn, or worried about Pac disappearing.
“I’m sorry for keeping you from working on your own things. And keeping you from Mike,” Fit whispered, his voice a husk compared to how it normally was.
“Don’t feel sorry, it’s okay. Mike can handle himself, and he even encouraged me to go with you. You’re not keeping me from anywhere. I want to be here with you,” Pac promised sincerely, giving Fit another kiss.
“Thank you. I- I’ve never had someone do this for me before.” It was things like that that made Pac’s heart break. Whenever he got sick, Mike was there to take care of him. Fit had no one. That was why it was so important to Pac to be there for Fit as much as possible; he was going to be the unwavering support Fit never got.
“I know,” Pac smiled sadly, grabbing his partner’s clammy hand. “Just try to go to sleep. I’ll still be here.” Fit nodded, but the look in his eye said he didn’t quite believe him. Pac wasn’t that hurt by it, he knew it was just Fit not believing anyone would do something so kind and compassionate for him.
Fit drifted off to sleep, and Pac stayed long enough for Fit’s grip on his hand to weaken, the sick man slipping into his dreams or nightmares. While his partner was hopefully getting restful sleep, Pac looked around for any food or water in the little sleeping area. Unfortunately, he found none, but he didn’t want to leave Fit alone.
He ended up asking Mike to grab some supplies, including water, food, and maybe medicine, if they had any. Pac stayed by Fit’s side, sitting on the unused half of the bed.
Mike’s voice sounded on the other side of the door, and Pac got up slowly to go answer it. His best friend handed him a bag with various items in it, all things that were very helpful, including a container of warm soup.
“Obrigado,” Pac breathed out, hugging Mike tight. He was stressed taking care of Fit, but he would never leave him after he was so vulnerable with Pac. He would never forgive himself if he did such a thing.
His other half left soon after that, only hanging around for a little bit before he got bored and wanted to go do something. Pac didn’t mind, and expressed his gratitude to Mike for bringing food and water. Once Mike was gone, Pac wrapped the soup up in a blanket to conserve heat, and set the water next to Fit’s prosthetic arm.
Pac was sure only an hour or two had passed since Fit had gone to sleep, but the man startled awake anyways, looking around the room frantically. Pac made sure to stay where he was, raising his hands slowly, trying to make himself not look like a threat. He knew Fit was very dangerous when he felt threatened, and he was unsure of his mental state, or what had happened in his dream.
Fit kept looking around in a panic, as if seeing something that wasn’t real. Finally, his eyes landed on Pac, and he seemed to go lax, his tense muscles becoming weak with sickness once again.
He made sure to slowly approach, coming to sit next to the awake man. “It’s okay, I’m okay. It was just a dream.” Fit breathed out heavily, as if hearing the words was a relief in itself.
“Thank you. I’m sorry if you felt… threatened,” Fit apologised, making Pac frown. He didn’t want his partner to feel bad for having a nightmare.
“Don’t say that, I’m fine. I didn’t want you to feel unsafe,” Pac told him, carefully holding his hand.
It was still shaking.
“I- thank you. I might have done something I’d regret if you came closer,” Fit admitted, turning to lay flat on his back instead of his side.
“That’s okay, I just want to know what would best help you,” Pac said, kissing the man’s knuckles.
“Don’t come near me if I have a nightmare. I could hurt you, and I don’t want to do that.” As much as it pained him to agree to staying away from his partner during such a distressing time, he knew how seriously Fit took his safety over everything.
“Am I allowed to speak?” Pac asked, genuine curiosity in his voice. Fit seemed to think about it for a while, staring up at the ceiling while deep in thought.
“I’m going to say yes, for now, unless I react in some way to change that,” Fit finally said, seeming unsure of his answer. “Just don’t mention weapons, or anything really violent. And definitely don’t be holding one.” Pac nodded, accepting all of these things as things that would make Fit more comfortable.
“Well, now that you’re awake, would you like soup?” Fit hummed, sitting himself up with his arm. He looked at his prosthetic, but seemed to have decided that he didn’t feel like using it.
Pac helped him shuffle across the room to the couch, where there was a coffee table to set the soup and water on. Fit leaned into Pac’s side as they walked, despite him being taller, but Pac didn’t mind. If anything, he was glad Fit was doing that, because it meant that he was trying to rely on someone while he was sick.
He grabbed the blanket that the soup was wrapped up in, and found that it was still a little warm. Thankfully, Mike remembered to pack a spoon to eat it with, and he handed it to Fit, trusting him with feeding himself.
Fit ate a decent amount of the soup, before he claimed he was full. Pac put the lid back on the container, setting it on the coffee table to do something with later. He gave Fit the water bottle from the bedside table, watching him drink with a careful eye, not wanting him to cough and start choking.
“Do you want to stay here for a bit?” Pac asked, and saw Fit nod. He figured as much, considering the only thing he could really do in bed was sleep, and that hadn’t turned out very good.
So they stayed on the couch, Pac cuddled up to Fit’s side, head resting on his chest. It was ironic how perfect they were for each other at this moment. Pac was always cold, no matter what kind of weather or heating, and Fit currently had a fever. They were perfect temperatures for each other, soothing the other’s pain.
He felt an arm come around his shoulders, holding him close. Pac smiled into the rare cuddle he was getting. Fit wasn’t much of a hugger, finding the ones he did get very overwhelming, needing a few minutes to regain his bearings. Getting something like this made him feel happy and safe, protected by a muscled arm that wouldn’t hesitate to keep him safe at all costs.
Pac could feel him going more and more deadweight, his tense muscles becoming so loose and relaxed. He decided it was probably time to go back to bed, hopefully with better results than earlier.
“Okay, up we go, to bed,” Pac said to the sleepy man, pushing him up with his hands. Fit accepted the help, letting himself be pulled off the couch by Pac.
Fit seemed to be looking a little better after getting some food and water. Pac grabbed the medicine from the table, bringing the water too.
Before he let him lay down, Pac held him up for a second, long enough to offer the medicine and water. He watched Fit try to read the instructions, but didn’t seem to understand them despite the English labelling, because he handed it back with a lost look.
Pac fished out two pills, giving them for Fit to swallow. “It’s just medicine, it should help with your headache and sore muscles.” When Fit finished, he laid back down, struggling to fix the blankets with only one arm. Pac helped him straighten them out, pulling them up to his shoulder.
“Thank you, Pac,” Fit mumbled sleepily, making Pac smile at how small the man sounded. He sounded like a completely different person when he was sick.
He looked at the time, seeing how late it was. It was probably a good idea to sleep as well. He was about to make his way to the couch to make his sleeping space more comfortable, but a croaky voice came from behind him, freezing him in place.
“Stay. Please. I don’t want you having to sleep on my couch.” Pac wasn’t going to say no to that. He sat on the edge of the bed, taking his prosthetic leg off, and left it on the floor. He only took off his hoodie, leaving his pants and shirt on under the covers.
Pac carefully wrapped his hands around Fit’s front, clinging to him from behind. He was basically a space heater, warming all of Pac’s body, while making Fit shiver with the contact of his cold skin. He pressed a kiss to his partner’s bare shoulder blade, before resting his head on a pillow and falling asleep.
It was one of the most peaceful sleeps he’d ever had, no nightmares plaguing him for once. He woke up the next morning feeling refreshed, and also found that he was still hugging Fit, the other man having not moved either.
He tightened his grip around him as he stretched his sleepy muscles, hearing a few things crack as he woke up more. Fit also woke up, turning to lay on his back, making Pac lay more on his shoulder.
“How are you feeling?” Pac asked, looking up to his partner’s face. He didn’t look as sick, his face not as flushed with fever.
“Better. Less hot, and less sore,” Fit grumbled, his voice still not sounding the best.
“Good. I’m glad. You should eat something.” Fit nodded in agreement, pulling himself up with the help of Pac and some momentum. He reached down to put on his leg, while Fit swung his legs off the bed. He let him walk on his own to the couch, standing behind him in case he lost balance.
In the bag that Mike gave him yesterday, Pac found some bread that shouldn’t be too hard on the stomach, offering it to Fit. He was fine with waiting to eat, wanting to let his sick partner eat first.
Fit took some for himself, then gave the rest of it back to Pac. “You need to eat too.” While they were eating, he got up to grab Fit’s arm from the bedside table, bringing it back to put next to the man.
“Thank you. We should get out of here soon, I don’t want people finding this place,” Fit said, putting his metal arm back on. His prosthetic looked much more weathered, and a little rusted in some places, compared to Pac’s.
“Yeah, we can leave soon,” Pac agreed, trying not to let the concern show in his voice. He knew Fit was paranoid about people finding him, and he knew that he was also incredibly protective of Pac, but it was still sad to see him be so worried about his safety from other people.
They finished up eating breakfast, and they both finished putting on their clothes, finding themselves prepared to leave. Pac made sure to stick close with Fit, usually holding his hand or grabbing his arm. Pac was also the one guiding the both of them, leading them towards Ramón’s house to check on the boy.
Ramón was still asleep, so they let him be, instead going to the Chume Labs to see Mike. Warping there proved to be a minor challenge, Fit needing to be held up gently by Pac as he regained his bearings. Once the small issue was sorted, the pair began searching the labs for Mike, wandering the halls, and eventually finding him working on the machine from yesterday.
“Pac! Fit! How are you feeling?” Mike asked, coming over to greet them, giving a tight hug to his other half, then giving a smaller hug to Fit. He could see that he was being gentle, and trying not to crowd the sick man, which was appreciated.
“I’m feeling better. Still a little sick, but it’s better than yesterday,” Fit said with a smile, leaning into Pac.
Mike smiled back, saying, “That’s good! Do you want to sit down?” Fit nodded, moving to sit on the ground, with a view of the entrance like always, and watched Pac and Mike work. It was nice, just watching them do their thing, speak in their language, and goof around with each other.
At some point, Fit started dozing off, much to Pac’s amusement. He kept an eye on him while he worked with Mike, making sure he was still okay. After what must have been three hours, they heard the sound of someone teleporting in. They were on edge, but the sounds of little feet padding through the halls let them know that this was an egg, making them sigh in relief.
A little head poked from around the corner, revealing engineer goggles and a meathead hat. Ramón looked at his dad, asleep on the ground, and rolled his eyes in endearment.
“Hey, Ramón!” Pac greeted quietly, coming over to hug the kid. “Do you want to help us while your dad sleeps?” The engineer nodded enthusiastically, jumping in to help with the machine.
They silently worked on the machine, Ramón being a huge help to their project. They stayed there for hours, occasionally stopping for food or water breaks, and kept working until nightfall.
When they realised how late it was, they decided to just have a sleepover at the labs. It would be much easier than dragging Ramón to his house, then getting Fit into his bed.
Sleeping bags and mattresses were pulled out, being set up in the main area of the lab. Double checking that there were no dangerous objects or substances in the sleepover area, Pac and Ramón woke up Fit to drag him to a bed. He fell back asleep almost instantly. Ramón pointed to his dad’s prosthetic arm, and Pac began taking it off, setting it at the head of his partner’s mattress.
Ramón worked Fit’s boots off, leaving them at the foot of the thin mattress, and cuddled up to his dad, wedging himself against his chest. Pac got them both a blanket to share, hopefully big enough that they would both still be covered by it in the morning.
You whisper to Cellbit: does richas want to have a sleepover at the lab with ramón?
Cellbit whispers to you: he said yes, he will be there soon.
Pac left Ramón’s unused sleeping bag out for his own son, and laid down in his sleeping bag next to Fit. He was a little bit higher than him, thanks to the small mattress, but it wasn’t an issue. He moved closer to his partner’s back, enjoying the heat emitting through the shirt.
He stayed awake until Richas arrived, being led by Mike, Cellbit nowhere in sight. He was probably planning to spend the night with Roier, now that he had no kid to put to bed.
Richarlyson grabbed the empty sleeping bag, settling down next to Ramón, the egg turning to cling to his younger brother, even if his dad still had an arm around him. Mike ended up next to Pac, a comfortable presence at his back.
Even if someone, or many people, woke up from a nightmare, they would all be there for each other. Family supported one another, and that was exactly what they would do, no matter how difficult things got.