Chapter Text
It’s been three texts, a missed call, and twenty minutes since Nate was supposed to pick them up (”Matt, you’re always driving in LA - let me drive you guys!”), and the triplets are beginning to worry.
“This is stupid,” Nick says, after they’ve been milling around the kitchen for a bit. “I’m just going to call him again.”
• • •
Nate is having a terrible day. He had woken up with a pounding headache, the pressure in his sinuses almost unbearable. His throat was sore and he had a fever that seemed to make his brain steadily foggier. It had taken more effort than was usually necessary to sit up, and he had barely enough strength to groan and chug half the water in the bottle on his nightstand before he slumped back into his pillows and went back to sleep.
The next time he had woken up, it was because he had needed to pee, which meant he had no choice but to get up. This was immensely unfortunate, because his entire body ached like he’d worked out for hours the day before (he wished that was why - all he had done yesterday was eat donuts and watch TV). When he had managed to get to his feet, he had been hit with a wave of dizziness so strong he had very nearly crumpled to the ground.
After draining his minimal strength on his journey to the bathroom, he had dragged himself to his couch and pulled the blanket draped over it around himself. Nate had realized, belatedly, that he should probably have taken medicine, or maybe have checked how bad his fever was, but he couldn’t remember where he kept all that sort of stuff, and such things would require movement - an activity he had no interest in doing more of. He was hoping very much that if he stayed completely still, the faint nausea he was feeling would fade. So he watched Netflix until his eyelids grew heavy and he slipped back into sleep. He had an odd feeling that he was forgetting something, but his brain was far too tired to recall it.
• • •
When the ringtone startles him awake, Nate grabs his phone to check who it is, and realizes very suddenly what it is that he had been forgetting.
“Fuck, Nick, I’m so sorry,” Nate rasps, wincing because his voice sounds awful. “I know I said I’d pick you guys up, but then I wasn’t feeling well this morning and I got really tired and-”
“Hey, hey, hey, slow down,” Nick interrupts gently. “You’re sick?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry, I don’t think I can come-”
“Don’t apologize for that,” Chris orders, and Nate smiles a bit.
“You should’ve called in the morning when we reached - we could’ve come and helped you!” Nick exclaims.
“But you guys just got back and I didn’t want you guys to worry or get sick too,” Nate tries to reason.
“You’re an idiot, Nate,” Chris says, “You’re our best friend - it’s our job to worry about you.”
“I just said that I don’t want you guys to get sick!” Nate grumbles. All of this talking is draining far too much of his nonexistent energy, and it’s taking a lot of effort to avoid admitting that he feels like absolute shit.
Nick frowns, thinking. If Nate is this adamant, and he’s only been sick since the morning, it means he has to be in pretty bad shape. But if he asks him point blank how sick he is, Nate will downplay it for sure.
“Bubba - and be honest with me - when’s the last time you got up?” (To Nick, Matt and Chris are ‘bub’, and Nate is ‘bubba’. It just makes sense. When Nate had asked, on a whim, why he wasn’t also ‘bub’, Chris had grinned and said, “’Cause you’re the smallest,” which had made Nate scowl. Then Matt had leaned over and stage whispered, “It’s ‘cause you’re his favorite.” This had made Nate and Nick both grin.)
Nate has to think for a frankly concerning amount of time before he responds, weakly, “Um…maybe this morning? I went from my bedroom to the couch, and then I was just so tired.”
“And you have a fever, don’t you?” Nick asks, even though he already knows the answer. Nate’s voice is wavering the same way Chris’s does when he’s feverish and sick.
“Yeah.” Nate doesn’t really have the energy to try and dodge it.
Matt, who had just been listening and thinking up until this point, makes an executive decision. “We’re gonna come get you, okay, sweetheart?”
And, oh, that’s…well, Nate can’t help but agree because, while Nick is frequent in his use of petnames and he isn’t one to keep around people he isn’t close enough to use them with, and Chris never uses them (he claims they make him cringe but caves whenever they’re used on him), Matt is as infrequent and as he is selective with this sort of affection, and he says it so gently and Nate realizes that all he really wants right now is to be taken care of.
So he says, “Yes, please.”