Work Text:
Going into work sick. Classic move, right? Larry thought so, anyway. He was barely even sick, just a sniffle, and a bit of a headache, nothing unusual. So what if he’d thrown up three times this evening before work? He felt fine now.
Unfortunately, some of the exhibits didn’t share his logic. Teddy, Sacagewea, and Ahk, to be exact.
“Lawrence! You look pale, boy,” Teddy said, blunt as ever. His booming voice alerted Sacagewea, who was already making her way over to talk with Teddy. She looked him up and down, eyebrows furrowing, as Larry tried not to squirm under her scrutinizing gaze.
“You don’t seem well. Are you feeling alright?” she asked, and Larry knew already it’d be a long night.
“Yes, I’m fine. I appreciate the concern, really, but--”
“Larry!” came a familiar call. Despite knowing that more overbearing worry was coming his way, Larry couldn’t help the way his stomach flipped hearing that voice.
“Good evening, Ahk,” he greeted the pharaoh, trying to seem casual.
But Ahk was having none of it. “You’re sick.” What was with these guys and just skipping straight to the point?
“I’m not,” Larry argued. “I’m just fine. You guys are like overbearing mothers. Like I was saying, I appreciate your concern, but I’m not sick. C’mon, I thought we were going to have some fun tonight! Play some games, that sort of stuff. I’ll teach you guys how to play dodgeball.”
Though they still seemed skeptical, they relented, letting Larry lead them to a mostly open space where they could play, along with some of the other exhibits that wanted to join.
Larry felt a bead of sweat form on his brow before they’d even begun, but he wiped it away. The AC must not have kicked on yet.
(He ignored the fact that it was still early spring, and if anything, the heating should be on instead.)
Teaching a group of curious but confused museum exhibits how to play dodgeball went about as one would imagine. At first, it didn’t make much sense to them, but Larry had never been very good at explaining things. Once they played a round, though, they picked up on the rules remarkably quickly, and soon were whipping the foam balls Larry brought at each other at dangerous speeds.
Just how dangerous those speeds really were became obvious about half an hour in.
Attila had heard the commotion and wandered over, quickly becoming enthralled with the idea of the game. He’d joined Teddy’s team, who were a person short, and after half-listening to the rules, hurtled a ball directly at Larry. It shouldn’t have been an issue, they were foam balls for goodness’ sake, but Attila was strong, and Larry wasn’t paying attention.
It hit him right in the head, and sent him crashing to the ground.
He heard Sacagewea gasp as his arms flailed to catch himself. But it was too late. His head bounced off the hard tile, and everything went black.
Larry woke to the rocky feeling of being carried.
Was he in a body bag? Had he really hit his head that hard?
His eyes creaked open to confirm, and he found himself looking into the distraught expression of the Egyptian pharaoh. The sight made his insides flutter -- but that also could have been the way he’d started to feel himself slipping.
“Don’t drop him,” Ahk said, sounding more concerned than Larry had ever heard him. Whoever was carrying his top half -- Attila, from the sound of it -- grunted and hoisted him up to get a better grip.
Larry couldn’t help the groan that the motion pulled from him. He felt seasick, way too hot, and like someone was jackhammering into his skull. Not a great combo. Definitely not made better by having two people lift you by the limbs and carry you to what Larry had to assume was the break room couch.
Finally, Attila and Ahk set him down on the cushions, as lumpy as they’ve always been. Larry sighed in relief anyway. The less movement, the better.
“Larry?” came Ahk’s tentative voice, blessedly quiet. “Are you alright?”
The words made his stomach flip. The way he asked -- so gentle, asking despite knowing that Larry had hit his head hard enough to knock him right out.
“...Jus’ fine,” Larry mumbled, not meaning for the words to come out so slurred. Ahk’s brows pinched together again.
“I don’t think so. You fell quite badly.”
“Is there a way to fall goodly?”
The pharaoh sighed. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were delirious, making up words.”
Larry managed a small, smug grin. “You love me,” he said teasingly, only truly understanding what he’d said when Ahk returned the smile and whispered his answer.
“Yes, I love you.”
There was a moment where neither of them said anything, just stared at each other as the realization fell upon both of them. As mortifying as it was, it was sort of worth it to see the blush settle into Ahk’s cheeks.
A sharp jab of pain shot through Larry’s head, ruining the moment and making him wince. Immediately, Ahk was back to looking preciously worried, fretting over him.
“Does your head hurt again? I should take a look --” His hands came to gently rest on Larry’s head, gingerly brushing his hair to the side, and any pain that had bothered him faded into the background.
“...It’s fine, Ahk, I can take care of myself,” he tried, but of course Ahk wouldn’t accept that.
“You’re sick, and you’re wounded. Let us take care of you for once.”
The idea of being tended to by Ahk was quite tempting, Larry had to admit. But he couldn’t -- it was his job to take care of them.
Either Ahk could read his mind, or Larry had spoken out loud, because the pharaoh shook his head. “Not tonight. Tonight, you’ll lay here, and you’ll let me take care of you.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Ahk couldn’t muffle his giggle in time. Larry smiled wider.
In the end, being sick had its perks.