Chapter Text
Spencer's illness hangs on longer than expected, mostly because she's so stressed most of the time. Her parents, after the first night of making sure she got her medicine on time and stayed clean and dry, mostly gave up the warm and fuzzy act after the second day of Spencer being home. After all, the housekeeper's there. And as nice as Elsa is, and as much as Spencer wants to take comfort from her warm arms and gentle voice, Elsa isn't her mother, and Elsa can't give Spencer the comfort she's looking for. Knowing that Mrs. Fields is a stay-at-home mom, Spencer almost wishes that she could go back over there, even if it means that Emily would be jealous of her. At least Mrs. Fields didn't mind cuddling Spencer when her cough got too bad, or when she felt lonely and weepy.
Elsa now puts a hand on Spencer's forehead and breathes a sigh. "Oh, honey. That fever just won't stay down."
Spencer had seen the doctor, but he'd diagnosed her with a particularly virulent flu ("The same one the Sunday school has, Mrs. Fields said," Mrs. Hastings had said when she heard the news) and said that fluids, rest, and time would be the only healers. Spencer doesn't feel as bad as she had a few days ago - she can sit up for longer periods of time and is taking interest in Netflix and reading again. But she doesn't feel a hundred percent, either, and she knows she's entering the tired, cranky stage of her illness. She tosses her head irritably on the pillow and knows, rather than sees, that Elsa is smiling down in amusement.
"We'll give you some more Advil. And then I'm sure you must be thirsty, and maybe a little hungry. It's getting to be just about lunch time."
Spencer tries to smile politely. After all, it's not Elsa's job to be her nursemaid, and Spencer is glad she's there. It's better than trying to muddle along alone, especially since she's now regressed almost totally and can't tell when she's wet. Embarrassingly, Spencer has also had a few dirty diapers - mostly because she wasn't paying attention at the time. Also even more embarrassingly, she doesn't mind really when the dirty diapers happen. Elsa was mostly the one to deal with them, and she hadn't said anything at all, except that Spencer should tell her when it happens because she's getting a rash. And she didn't tell Mrs. Hastings, either.
So, Spencer wants to love Elsa. She wants to accept the comfort, and the way that Elsa is willing to rock her for a few moments before her nap, and the way that Elsa doesn't mind holding her when she gives Spencer her bottle. These are all things that Spencer wants. But that niggling feeling at the back of her mind tells her that she shouldn't want this comfort. She also shouldn't get used to it, because her parents will be angry when she's the only 16-year-old in school still pooping her pants.
That really does have to stop, thinks Spencer, but at the very thought, a wave of exhaustion breaks over her. Her lower lip starts to tremble, which isn't missed by Elsa. She smooths a hand over Spencer's forehead, which feels good. Spencer nuzzles into Elsa's hand before she realizes what she's doing.
The older woman smiles at that. "I think you're tired, aren't you, sweetie?" She slips a hand under the covers to pat Spencer's padded bottom. "And you're wet. Why don't we get you changed and you can have a little nap before lunch? We need you to have the strength to eat in order to get better."
Spencer nods and offers a shy smile. Elsa really does try so hard. Spencer knows she should be a little less shy with her. And certainly, her own mother doesn't seem to care enough to stay home with her or to make sure she's comfortable like this. At that thought, Spencer's lip trembles again, but Elsa is busy changing her diaper and doesn't notice.
When Spencer is settled and Elsa's washed her hands, Elsa comes back with a bottle of warm chamomile tea with honey to help Spencer's cough. Settling Spencer comfortably on her ample lap, she smiles down at her as she feeds Spencer the warm tea. It does help, thinks Spencer. Her throat does feel less scratchy and sore, and the warmth of the drink makes her, if possible, even sleepier.
Since the doctor had insisted on Spencer taking as many fluids as she could handle (which also meant that more often than not, her diaper was wet), Mr. and Mrs. Hastings had begrudgingly broke down and bought a few glass bottles for Spencer while she was sick, with the proviso that "when you're better, you're to give them up immediately, do you hear, young lady?" And Spencer had been feeling better in the last day or so, partly because she wasn't constantly dehydrating herself to stop from wetting all the time.
Spencer finishes her bottle and Elsa gently sits her up, patting her back. After a burp (which Spencer is still a little embarrassed about, but let Elsa do it her own way), Elsa snuggles the tired girl into her ample arms and chest, humming an old Eastern European lullaby. Spencer's eyes slip closed, blissfully.
Maybe Elsa is the person who can take care of her the way she needs.
//~//
Some time later, after Spencer wakes up from her nap and has her lunch, which Elsa insisted on spoon-feeding her, she moves downstairs to the couch for awhile to watch some Netflix and try to catch up on her school assignments. Looking at the hundreds of little dancing letters on a page still makes Spencer a little dizzy and tired, so she takes long breaks between her readings to try to rest before moving on. An hour or so passes before she hears the back door open and her mother's and Melissa's bright, loud voices enter the room and straight through Spencer's aching head.
Melissa immediately spots her sister on the couch, but instead of sneering, she pastes on a fake concerned look. "Spence, should you really be out of bed, and on the new couch with just a diaper and PJ pants on? I'm sure Mom and Dad wouldn't want you to ruin it."
Mrs. Veronica Hastings is shucking off her coat and draping it over one of the barstools in the open concept kitchen. "Melissa's right, Spence. Honey, I'm not trying to be mean, but I don't really want to pay for upholstery cleaning if you leak."
Spencer doesn't say anything, but she places her book on the coffee table and makes a slow and concentrated effort to rise. She gets dizzy if she gets up too fast, and she's still a little unsteady on her feet. Just then, Elsa bustles in, and looks properly horrified at the idea of Spencer up, standing unsteadily on her once-skinny, now-spindly legs, in the throes of a coughing attack.
"No, honey. You need to sit down before you pass out." Elsa's no-nonsense voice stops even Veronica in her tracks. "You should not be standing when you're still a little dizzy. Maybe in another day or so."
"Elsa, I really don't want her on that couch when she's sick and regressed," says Veronica in a reasonable tone. "Not unless you put a towel down or something. Her bed has waterproof sheeting on it. I'd prefer her up there while she's in diapers full-time."
"Well, Mrs. Hastings, I just changed her about twenty minutes ago, so, she's not going to leak on the new upholstery," announces Elsa, taking Spencer into her arms and patting her back firmly to help her stop coughing. Spencer tries not to cry, knowing that it just makes the cough worse, but it hurts and she can't help a few gasping sobs while Elsa helps the attack to pass.
When Spencer unscrews her eyes from the cringing, painful expression she feels her face moving into, she notices a look of real concern on Veronica's face. But just as Spencer registers it, it's gone.
"Well, she should be in bed, anyway," says Veronica, her voice gentler. "She's really not well enough to be up and about with that terrible cough."
"That, I agree with," says Elsa, and with a nimble movement, she picks Spencer up in her arms. With her legs around Elsa's waist and not enough strength at that exact moment to even lift her head from Elsa's shoulder, Spencer can only watch as her mother and Melissa look up at them, open-mouthed, while Elsa carries Spencer up the stairs to her room.
//~//
In the middle of the night, long after Elsa had gone home for the evening, Spencer wakes up with a coughing fit. She usually has one or two a night, now, since the prescription cough medicine has at least let her sleep more than an hour or so at a time. Trying to get her breathing back under control and gulping desperately from the bottle of water beside her bed, Spencer hopes that tonight she won't end up gagging and almost getting sick all over herself, like she had the first night that she'd been sick. Poor Emily, thinks Spencer wryly. She'd heard Emily had caught an abbreviated version of the flu after Spencer had gone home, but was ready to go back to school tomorrow. Though Spencer wasn't in the mood to go back, she did miss her friends.
The coughing slows down gradually, but Spencer can't help but start to whimper from the pain in her lungs. She needs another dose of her cough medicine, but she doesn't know where her mother or Elsa put it. Rubbing her eyes and trying to breathe normally, she knows she's losing the battle when she lets out a harsh sob and starts to cry. Fending for herself at night has never been her strong suit, and she's half-hoping someone will hear her, even if it's Melissa, so that she can settle down and get to sleep again.
But no one seems to be coming, and after a few moments, Spencer realizes that no one can likely hear her. She considers trying to go downstairs on her own. She's steady enough on her feet tonight - after a little nap just before dinner, Spencer managed to walk down the stairs by herself, though she had to rest once she got downstairs before heading to a chair in the kitchen and off the precious new couch. But it seems so hard, and her chest hurts so much. Her voice, always a little hoarse, is almost a croak with the cough, even as she tries to call out for her mother. "Mommy . . ."
Just when Spencer thinks she'll have to either go back to sleep, with a sopping wet diaper and sore, burning chest, or get up on her own, she hears her door push open and her mother appears, backlit by the hall light. Spencer sags onto her bed in relief. "Mommy," she whispers.
"Spence, what's wrong, honey?" Veronica comes over, her silk nightgown swishing against her ankles, and puts a cool hand on her daughter's forehead. It feels so good that Spencer holds it there for a few moments, listening to Veronica cluck over her.
"Oh, sweetie. You're running a little fever again, though it's lower than it's been."
Spencer whimpers at this, and then begins to cough again. Veronica helps her sit up and then pulls up Spencer's PJ shirt, gently rubbing Vicks onto her back from the small tin on Spencer's bedside table. Immediately, the powerful medicinal ointment starts to loosen the tight soreness in Spencer's chest. Veronica puts some onto Spencer's chest, too, and then walks into the bathroom to wash her hands and grab Spencer's cough medicine, which, Spencer learns, was in her medicine cabinet the entire time. Oh.
After a dose, Spencer is much more relaxed, the tears drying on her cheeks. Veronica rubs her belly soothingly, and then checks her diaper. "Oh, lovey. You're soaked. You should have said something earlier," she soothes, and Spencer smiles a little into the dark. If only her mother could be like this all the time.
After a quick change, Veronica turns Spencer's pillow over to the cool side and watches her daughter snuggle into it. "If you need me, you just call, okay? Don't suffer in here alone at night when you're so sick." She kisses Spencer's forehead. "Get some rest."
And Spencer turns over into her blissfully cool pillow, happy that for once, her mother was there for her.
//~//
A couple of days later, Spencer's almost fully better except for her cough - and her need for thick, full-time diapers. Veronica seems to be trying to be understanding, but her exasperation is evident at the breakfast table on the Monday morning Spencer's ready to go back to school.
"Now, you need to focus on retraining, honey," she says, her voice admonishing. "It's all well and good to wear full-time diapers at home when you're sick, but you're going to need to clear your stages at least to night-time diapers by the end of the school year. You know you have to in order to get into the science camp you wanted this summer."
The science camp in question is a UPenn-sponsored chemistry and biology workshop that's worth an actual credit to help Spencer graduate high school earlier. It's very important, and though it's a few months away, Spencer's tummy tightens with nervousness. She does know they won't let her in if she's in diapers still. They don't have the facilities or resources at the university to support students needing regular diaper changes.
She nods, trying to seem like she's taking it seriously, though she feels warm and safe in her thick diapers, without a care in the world but trying to do well in school, not trying to train herself not to wet her pants. She'd had another dirty diaper yesterday. Elsa had been the only one home - the family had gone out to buy Melissa a new laptop for a summer university course in London - but even understanding Elsa had told her that she couldn't let this happen anymore, not now that she was going back to school. Spencer had been embarrassed, and had actually begun to cry right in front of Elsa, half out of mortification, but Elsa had kissed and soothed and cuddled until Spencer felt better.
Now, she gets up, her cough candies stowed safely in her backpack, and gets into the car with her mother, who's dropping her at school today. On the short ride over, Veronica says nothing, but she pats Spencer's padded bottom affectionately as her daughter exits the car, and Spencer smiles in response. Since the night of the coughing fit, her mother has been a little more understanding and affectionate.
Spencer spots Emily across the quad and breaks out into a wide, excited grin. They're both still a little pale and thin - Spencer having lost precious weight she didn't really have to lose - but Emily looks almost 100% better, with just a little exhaustion around her eyes. Spencer walks quickly up to her - running still being out of the question right now - and throws her arms around her friend. Emily hugs her back just as tightly, and as Spencer drops her arms, they brush over Emily's backside. A distinct crinkle is heard, and Spencer raises her eyes in confusion to Emily's.
"I'm in Pull-Ups for now," says Emily. "I'm not quite . . . back to normal. I still have a couple accidents a day." While that would usually cause Emily to blush and look away, embarrassed, Emily seems perfectly comfortable with it. Spencer supposes Mrs. Fields wrote the whole thing off as Emily being sick. And, well, it makes total sense. Spencer wishes she didn't feel so embarrassed about pooping her pants still.
"I'm in full diapers," she mutters. "I started having . . . worse accidents this past week." She doesn't tell Emily that a lot of them have been on purpose, that there's something comforting about hiding in a corner and letting it all go in privacy and warmth, even if it is messier and a bit embarrassing.
Emily simply nods. "Half the church teen group is back in full-time diapers now, too, my mom says. It was a nasty flu."
Across the courtyard, they see Aria's parents' van pull up into the teachers' parking lot and Aria clamber out, her usual crazy outfit standing out from the crowd. Today she's wearing a pair of striped black and pink leggings, a long black smock with pink and silver sparkly designs on it, and a bunch of random jewellery. As her mother, Ella Montgomery, gets out of the car to give Aria a hug goodbye, they quickly see Aria pull something out of her mouth and shove it into her purse. Ella gives Aria a long hug, and then pats her bottom, much as any mother would do with their diapered child. But Aria doesn't wear diapers anymore, does she?
Hanna has now joined them, and after greeting Spencer, they wait for Aria to come across the quad. But Aria doesn't seem to want to come. She eyes her friends uncertainly, then turns back to her mother. Ella tosses back her long dark hair and seems to be saying something reassuring to Aria, which doesn't seem to help. Aria's lower lip starts to tremble, and she turns back to her mother, throwing her arms around the teacher and burying her face in her shoulder.
Spencer is shocked. "Was Aria sick, too?" This behaviour is so weird. Hanna looks skeptical. She knows Aria better than any of them, and she shakes her head.
"Aria was one of the only ones who didn't get that flu you guys had. Something about her vitamin intake or something. She blathered on about it at lunch one day. Please don't ever make me listen to a lecture on naturopaths again."
"She seems a little . . . fragile," states Emily, her tone careful. "I hadn't realized she was having a hard time, I guess?"
Hanna's wide blue eyes turn onto Emily in confusion. "She's not. There's nothing wrong with her."
They watch as Ella, right there in the parking lot, checks Aria's diaper and shakes her head. "You need a change, sweetie," comes across the courtyard.
Hanna shrugs. "She's just wearing diapers again."