Work Text:
Throughout the last week or so, the House of the Hearth children had been passing around this horrible sickness. Today, it seemed it was Lyney's turn.
He had felt perfectly fine the day before, up until his evening performance, when he'd suddenly felt really tired halfway through and nearly messed up an important trick. The moment he got home, he collapsed onto his bed without even taking off his costume.
Lyney woke himself up by coughing his lungs out. Every breath burned his throat on its harsh way out, and when the coughing fit was over, he found himself on the ground, gasping for air.
Rosseland crawled out of his hat to mrrow a greeting at him.
"Rosse— Rosseland," he rasped. "Morning, darling."
She licked his cheek, purring happily.
Lyney purred back at her, reaching up with a gloved hand to scratch behind her ears. He hadn't even taken off his gloves...
His bedroom door opened, and his dear little sister peeked in. She'd caught the sickness early and recovered within a day.
"Lyney? What was that noise? Why are you in your costume again?"
Lyney coughed.
Her violet eyes widened, and her ears flattened to her head. "Oh. Oh my god."
Lyney tried to speak, to muster up an "I'm fine", but nothing came out of his dry throat except a pitiful whine.
Lynette knelt beside him, and gently brushed his hair out of his face.
"Does it hurt?" Lynette asked.
He shook his head, though even the motion of doing that made his neck hurt and his vision swirl.
Lynette could tell he was lying, even now. She put her hands under his armpits and lifted him into a sitting position.
"Here, I'll help you get changed, alright?"
"Mhm..." Lyney was too sore and tired to refuse.
Lynette gently removed his clothes, peeling off fabric and leather that was stuck to him by his own sweat. He tried to cover his mouth, but ended up coughing right into her face as she was wiping his dried makeup off.
Lynette's nose wrinkled from disgust.
"S-sorry," he apologized. He hated being so helpless that he couldn't even cover his mouth properly.
"It's fine. I'll wash it off later."
Lynette finished taking his costume off, put a t-shirt on him to keep him warm, then helped him back into his bed. Lyney curled into a ball, not protesting when Lynette tucked the blankets around him. Rosseland curled up beside him, purring softly in his ear.
"Rest up, okay? I'll let Father know you're feeling unwell."
Lyney nodded. "Th-thanks, Nettie."
"I'll bring you some breakfast."
Lynette left the room, and Lyney quickly fell asleep once again.
Lyney woke up with a horrible, churning feeling in his stomach. He whimpered in discomfort, and shifted slightly to get more comfortable. He tried to tug the blankets up to cover his head, but found there was a heavy weight by his feet.
"Oh, I'm sorry, child," Father spoke from the foot of his bed. "Did you need these?" she stood up.
Lyney groaned softly and pulled the blankets above his head. Father reached underneath the blankets, invading Lyney's space to feel his forehead.
"Fever," she muttered to herself. "I thought so."
"Go away," Lyney complained. The nausea moved upwards, stirring his brain around inside his head.
Father pulled her hand away. "I'll bring you some lunch." She left the room, heels going click, click, click against the floor as she walked.
Lunch? Wasn't Lynette bringing him breakfast?
He peeked out from under the covers. His curtains had been drawn to block most of the daylight, but he had to assume he'd slept through breakfast.
Rosseland was still beside him, though she'd moved further away. Lyney didn't dare open his mouth to call out for her. He might be sick if he did.
Father entered the room once again, carrying a plate. She placed it on his nightstand, then sat down on the foot of his bed again.
"A ham sandwich," she informed. "Eat it, get your strength up."
Lyney rolled over to face away from the sandwich.
Father sighed. "Come on, Lyney. You must eat something." She stood up and moved to stand beside him. "Sit up."
Lyney shook his head.
Father leaned over him, reaching for his shoulders. "You should know better than to disobey your father," she said gently. Father pulled him into a sitting position, using one arm to support him. "Here. Eat."
Lyney didn't reach for the plate. His head spun just from sitting up, and bile began to creep upwards. Rosseland seemed to sense something was going to happen, and she jumped off the bed and hid under it.
"Lyney?"
Lyney put a hand on her chest, weakly tried to push her away, but she didn't understand.
"I know you don't want to eat, child. Here, let me help." She tore a small piece off of the sandwich, and lifted it to his mouth.
He opened his mouth to warn her, "No, Father— Hrrk!"
Lyney vomited. Empty stomach acid went all over his face, onto Father's hand and the sandwich piece, down Lyney's front, and finally splattered over his blankets.
Father barely even flinched. "Hm. I suppose that's what you were trying to say."
Lyney coughed. If Father weren't right here, he would likely have cried. His clean blankets were covered in vomit, while he was too lethargic to clean them up. Not to mention it was all over himself, too.
"M'sorry," Lyney choked out.
Father gently patted his back with her clean hand. "Let's get you cleaned up." After she wiped her hand off with some tissues, Father pulled the blankets off of him and scooped him up into her arms, holding her son against her chest. Father didn't seem to care that she was getting his vomit all over her clothes.
Lyney had no choice but to relax into her hold, allowing her to carry him out of his room.
"Freminet," she called to the boy as he passed by. "Would you mind changing your brother's bedding? He threw up."
Lyney couldn't see Freminet's face, but he could only assume his icy blue eyes were wider than saucers. "O-oh. Yes, Father."
Father carried Lyney into the bathroom, then placed him in the bathtub.
"Here," she said. "You need a bath." She headed towards the door, leaving him alone in the tub.
The nausea was gone, but Lyney was way too tired to bathe himself. He leaned his head against the side of the bathtub, still covered in his own vomit, and closed his eyes. It smelled horrible, but he really didn't have the energy.
"Lyney?" Father sighed. "Do you need help?"
Lyney groaned softly.
Father sighed. "Alright. Here, let me help." She knelt beside the tub. "Hold still."
He held still. Like he were a doll, Father undressed him, and tossed his clothes to the laundry basket. Lyney shivered in the cold air. Father turned the faucet on, and began filling the tub with warm water. She squirted some soap onto a washcloth, and while the tub was filling, she carefully scrubbed his chest and arms.
Normally, Father wasn't so… Caring.
Lyney laid his head back against the side of the tub, and closed his eyes.
Father sighed. She lifted his head back up to wash his face, but once she was done, she allowed him to rest once more.
When Lyney's awareness came back, Father was lifting him out of the bathtub, wrapped tightly in a warm towel. She held him tight against her body as she carried him back to his bedroom, as if he were nothing more than a helpless baby.
Lyney whimpered as she placed him down into his cold bed. His sheets and blankets had been changed, though nobody had thought to warm them up first.
"Get some sleep," Father murmured, brushing wet bangs out of his face. "Perhaps you can try eating again once it's dinnertime."
Lyney nodded into his pillow.
Before Father left, she even took a moment to tuck him in. Rosseland jumped onto the bed, and curled up by Lyney's chest, purring loudly. Father also patted her on the side.
"Father?" Lyney rasped as she headed towards his door.
"Yes, Lyney? Do you need something else?"
"Thank you…"
"You're welcome. Get some rest." Father left his bedroom.
Lyney curled up around Rosseland, beginning to fall asleep again.
As much as Lyney usually hated being cared for… If it meant Father would be this caring, perhaps this time he didn't mind being so helpless.