Archive of Our Own

The bunker felt quiet, welcoming. This week, Enid and Wednesday were occupying the Bullpen, leaving the underground hideout for Isaac and Tyler to enjoy.

Donovan had done his best to make the place warm, but it took a new generation of severely outcast teens to make it feel lively. It had started with Enid, refusing to feel buried alive in this place. Then, as her friendship with Tyler had developed, the boy had started to welcome the idea of updating the place —though not without leaving some things intact, remains of a past he wasn't willing to fully let go of. Bands posters, curtains, family pictures pasted on the walls, crochet garlands, lights, stickers… From a bunker born out of fear and a desire to protect, the place became a welcoming nest for the kids to thrive in. Wednesday eventually added her own little touch, a little corner in black and white, with some necromancy books, a small ofrenda, and candles that were certainly not here to liven up the place.

Isaac wasn't really one for purposeful decorations. While he made an attempt to participate with a picture of Françoise, one of Tyler, and the blueprint sketch of his clockwork heart he had somehow retrieved, his true addition to the room's ambiance was all the testimonies to his presence. Dusty books, empty coffee mugs he was too deep into hyperfocus to wash, notes scattered across the table, so much so the others had to move them whenever they wanted to eat, random half-assembled mechanical parts… Tyler loved these. He might be sometimes annoyed at his uncle's lack of spatial awareness, his messiness, and the way the world disappeared around him once his mind was captivated by something, but he wouldn't want it any other way.

Except maybe today.

As they were sitting at the table —Tyler reading, Isaac drowned in his research, still determined to fix Tyler's short lifespan—, the young Hyde started to feel the DaVinci's breathing change, becoming more febrile, and he could swear he was slightly trembling.

"Isaac?" he tried after a moment to confirm his growing suspicion.

Nothing. Isaac kept furiously scribbling in his notebook, his handwriting unusually sloppy and barely legible, still overly focused on his work. Tyler placed a hand on his shoulder, which made him snap out of it.

"W-What?" With his face visible now that he was looking up from his paper, it was clear he was unwell. He was paler than usual, his lips had lost almost all colors, while his dark circles were deeper than usual. He was sweating, and his whole body was shivering as if cold. Except the bunker was actually well-heated and comfortable these days.

"Are you alright?" It was obvious he wasn't, but Tyler figured it was best to ask.

"I-I'm fine," Isaac replied with a croaky voice.

"Oh, really?" Tyler made no effort to conceal his annoyance. He knew all too well how stubborn and guarded his uncle could be, no matter how ridiculous.

"Yeah, I-" Isaac cleared his throat, "I'm just a bit tired." He hated feeling weak and vulnerable. He was Isaac Night, the boy who had built his own heart when doctors had given up, who had conceived machines people three times his age would steal because they were unable to even dream of them. The genius DaVinci, that no other Nevermore students could surpass. The one who came back from the dead —twice. He would not be defeated by what was probably just a benign cold —ignoring how much his body was heating up from the inside.

"Tired? No that's more than tired, you-" he tried to get closer, but Isaac suddenly stood up, hoping the distance would prevent Tyler to find anything else to back up his argument.

"I- I said I was… fine…" he could barely finish his sentence, as suddenly the world spun around him and the floor disappeared underneath him.

Thankfully, Tyler was fast. Springing from his chair —knocking it down in the process— he managed to catch his uncle before he fell to the ground, and sat him back on his chair. Kneeling before him, Tyler pushed Isaac's dark curls away from his face, and pressed a hand to his forehead.

"You're burning!"

"I-it's…" he swallowed, "it's just a c-cold…"

"No it's not! Isaac, you have a fever! You can't just keep going like that, you have to lie down, or you'll make it worse." Saying this, Tyler started to move to help Isaac stand up and escort him to his bed, only to be met with resistance. Isaac grabbed his arm in an attempt to move him away, to no avail —physical feats had never been his uncle's forte.

"No… no, no, not the bed…" Isaac's head was spinning again, but the idea of having to lay in bed again, sick, was stronger than the dizziness setting in. He fought to remain conscious.

Tyler tried to insist, but it was like talking to a wall. Isaac would not budge, and he was using his powers to ensure his nephew wouldn't force him to lay down. The boy eventually let out a frustrated sigh.

"Fine! If you want to act like a spoiled kid, act like a spoiled kid!"

"I-I'm not… this is just a… cold," he repeated, making a conscious effort to conceal his stuttering caused by the shaking. "It's not… going to k-kill me."

"Yeah sure, just a cold. It doesn't take a genius to see you're having a fever, and a bad one. And yes, you can die from a fever!"

"… I'll be fine."

Tyler stood up in anger, muttering under his breath. "Unbelievable. Unbelievable!" He grabbed a jacket he had left on a chair, and put it on while walking to the stairs.

"W-where are you g-going?"

"I need a walk! I'm sure you'll be fine, since you're 'only having a cold', right?" The air quotes he did really irritated Isaac, as did his tone, but it was hard to argue without betraying himself.

"I-I'll surely be way better without you p-pestering me!" That was the best he could find to retort.

Isaac tried to hold on his shaking as much as possible, until he heard the doghouse slam shut over his head. Then, he collapsed on the table, head in his hands, shaking more violently as warmth and cold passed over him in an uncomfortable way, a headache setting in viciously. It was fine. He had lived through worse. He was just tired, so he felt symptoms more strongly than usual. If he could just rest a bit, take a short nap…

He straighten himself, and in doing so, his eyes fell on the pages in front of him.

… He was close to a breakthrough in his research, he knew it! He couldn't rest now. He needed to chase the stroke of genius, to trap it before it escaped him and risked setting back his new goal: give Tyler the long and healthy life he deserved. This cold was only a momentary —if unpleasant— setback. Fixing his nephew's lifespan meant giving him 10, 20… decades more to live. The idea that Françoise had outlived most Hydes at only 50 made his heart sink. He could not let the same fate befall her son. He had to push through. No matter how much of a little shit Tyler could be, he wanted that little shit alive and safe. And he could not be sick. Not with all that implied…

Walking through the woods always soothed Tyler's mind. Maybe it was the Hyde inside him enjoying the nature. Maybe it was simply because it was a moment of chosen loneliness, of peace and quiet. The smells were more pleasant than the ones in town, and the air felt fresh and appeasing. His anger subsided as quickly as it had started, and after an hour, he assumed it would be the same for Isaac —the man was more spiteful than he was, after all. Giving him a little more time felt safer.

When he stepped back into the bunker, he found that spite was the least of his worries.

Isaac was hunched over his papers, shaking much more violently than when he left, drenched in sweat, and breathing heavily.

"Isaac…"

The older boy jumped in surprise. He hadn't heard him come in. Tyler knew of his uncle's terrible spatial awareness, but that was worse than usual. The bunker door was not particularly discreet, and neither were the stairs.

The sudden jolt of his head sent a wave of pain through Isaac's head, and he felt nausea come over him. He closed his eyes in an attempt at containing it all.

"Isaac, you really need to-"

"I need to throw up," Isaac interrupted him, as quickly as possible to avoid any unfortunate incident. Tyler reacted fast, immediately jumping to his uncle's side to help him to the toilet.

It was humiliating. Isaac had hoped that his nephew would never have to see him in such a pathetic, disgusting state. He hadn't eaten in a while, making the act of vomiting even more unpleasant than it already was. In this state of discomfort, the sensation of Tyler's fingers gently pulling his hair away from his face was welcome. They felt cool when they brushed against his cheeks, his temples, but he knew they weren't —Tyler was always warm, much warmer than him. Isaac was the ever-cold one, the type to stick his freezing feet against Tyler's in bed in search for warmth. His fever was just really that high, he admitted frustratingly. And he could feel it worsen by the minute.

"You need to rest," Tyler finally said.

Isaac was too exhausted to argue anymore. He nodded weakly, as the boy helped him rinse his mouth and escorted him to the bed. He didn't complain either when Tyler decided to take his temperature.

"How much?" he asked, as his nephew's brows furrowed.

""

They both knew that was high. Way too high to not be worrying.

"You need to see a docto-"

"NO!"

He reacted on instinct, judgment clouded by the fever, raising enough from the bed to grab Tyler's shirt and pulling him closer.

"I am not seeing any doctor, understood?"

Tyler replied with anger, grabbing Isaac's arm and yanking it away.

"You need to see one! This is getting too dangerous!"

"I don't care!! If you call a doctor, I'll kill you!"

A thick silence fell between them, only broken by Isaac's raspy breathing. It wasn't the threat itself that shocked Tyler. Not that he didn't believe his uncle able to kill, he had seen him in action. But because he knew it was empty: Isaac would sooner kill himself than let any harm befall his nephew. After his mother's death, and their unexpected reunion, things had changed between them. Isaac had first latched on him as a replacement for his sister, before seeing Tyler for who he was —the real Tyler. With his Hyde, and his sarcasm, and his fierce temper. And he had grown to love him as much, if not more, than he had his sister. By now, Isaac would be unable to hurt Tyler —at least not in a way that wouldn't be for his own good.

So why utter such an empty threat? The answer could be read in the DaVinci's eyes: fear. He was deeply, deeply afraid of the idea of seeing a doctor.

And that's only then that it hit Tyler.

He's traumatized.

He was so caught up in his own struggles, so used to have his uncle dote on him, treat him like the most precious thing he owned, but also like a child who didn't know better and who he needed to take care of —despite the both of them being of a similar age—, always so calculating and controlled, that it never hit him that Isaac could be traumatized, too.

The older teen started to tremble again, hair stuck to his face with sweat, eyes filling with tears —a rare sight.

"I- I- I can't… I can't, Tyler. All… All my life… twelve years of my life… I was in bed… Other children were running, a-and playing… even Françoise, and I-… I couldn't."

"I know, I- I'm sorry-"

"And the doctors," Isaac interrupted him, getting closer, febrile. "T-they… they were all around me… and coming, and taking… and injecting, and sampling… and c-cutting me open… for nothing." He swallowed again, eyes locked on Tyler, trying to remain calm. "I-I can't, Tyler… I can't s-see them over me… l-looking at me w-with pity… and t-telling me t-they can't do anything… t-that I'm on my own… I-I can't, I can't, p-please…"

He broke down in weak sobs. Fever, headache, and exhaustion mixing with the emotional pain of the memories, breaking through his usually composed facade. Tyler let him rest his head against his chest, gently rubbing his back in a comforting motion.

"OK, no doctor then. We'll try to make the fever go down…"

When he rose from the bed, he felt Isaac's hand slightly tighten its grip on his arm before releasing it. His uncle remained proud and guarded, even in such a dire state. He didn't want him to go, but couldn't let Tyler know that. Unfortunately for him, the Hyde noticed. But the time wasn't right for some playful banter: they really needed to lower Isaac's fever before it'd become dangerous.

Tyler rummaged through the medical kit his father had prepared under the kitchen sink, in search of ibuprofen, paracetamol, or anything similar. His relief at finding the medicine quickly vanished upon seeing the expiration date. Dammit. His father hadn't thought to replace them as years went on without using the bunker. All boxes were expired by too many years to be safe, or effective. He decided on a quick trip to the Galpin house. There, he was sure to find ibuprofen. His father always had a few boxes in stock to help with the hangover headaches.

Except Tyler hadn't planned on his house having been ransacked, and anything remotely interesting having been stolen. The only remaining ibuprofen box in the broken cabinet had also been expired for years, and the rest could not possibly help with fever. Tyler went back down the bunker looking defeated, only to find Isaac even paler than before and shivering violently, but still stubbornly sat on the bed rather than lying down.

"I'm… cold…" he muttered, trying to appear collected.

"You really need to lie down and rest, for starters," Tyler insisted again, gently helping his uncle into the proper position.

Isaac mumbled something in protest, until he realized his nephew was coming in the bed with him, holding him in his arms while he pulled the blankets over the both of them.

"Y-You'll g-get sick too…"

Tyler huffed.

"We Hydes are pretty sturdy, we don't get sick easily," he said with a cocky tone.

"K-keep bragging… you sh-shithead…"

Tyler smiled. It felt reassuring to hear his uncle still try to banter, despite his condition. He pulled him closer, and gently pressed a kiss on his lips. They were dry, he was getting dehydrated. He would have to force Isaac to drink if he didn't do it himself. But first, he needed to lower his fever. If Tyler really couldn't find any medicine, he would have to find another way.

Isaac kept shivering violently in his arms for a few more minutes, before the exhaustion and warmth finally got the better of him and he fell asleep, feeling safe and surrounded, if aching and freezing.

Tyler's mind was racing. Isaac's body against his was burning, and waiting for the fever to go down on its own was not an option. He had managed to free his arms enough to furiously type on his phone in search for solutions, but with a fever that high, it was clear that simply resting, hydrating, and cooling off wouldn't be enough. He had tried to send messages to Enid, to no avail. Reception at the Bullpen was unstable, and Donovan hadn't thought it worthwhile to install internet there. At this point, Tyler was left with two options.

Option 1: go to the Bullpen. Best case scenario, there would be medication there that could be used. He would need to rush back to the bunker and give some to Isaac. Worst case scenario, he'd have to wait for Wednesday or Enid to go into town to buy some, and meet them back at the bunker.

Problem: the trip from the bunker to the Bullpen was far from the shortest. Even with a car, it would take a couple hours to be back here with medicine.

Option 2: go into town himself. The Galpin house was a bit off-center, but still in Jericho. It would be a quick trip to the local drugstore, and he had enough money for the medication.

Problem: he was still a criminal on the run. And way too many people in Jericho knew the previous Sheriff's son who had turned into a homicidal monster. He had kept a low profile for months by now, but that was still extremely risky.

He was suddenly dragged out of his internal dilemma: the lights in the bunker had started to flicker. The kitchen light, the bedside lamp…. Isaac was whimpering in his sleep, synching with the flickering —and still shaking violently. His face and lips were still extremely pale and it looked as if his dark circles were even deeper. His curls were damp and stuck to his face by sweat. He started mumbling incoherent words. There was no time. Tyler made up his mind.

He gently exited the bed, making sure not to wake his uncle up, and rearranged the blankets. He then went back to his house, looking through old clothes, and finally found what he was looking for: a large hoodie and a baseball cap. He put the cap on, tucking as much of his curls as possible inside, and pulled the hood over it. He knew it was probably ridiculous, but if he had managed to sneak into the Remembrance Procession at Nevermore without anyone noticing until Thing snitched on him, maybe this would do the trick. It was getting late anyway, the sun was going down, and it was only a short trip.

He went down to the bunker one last time, checking if Isaac was still asleep, and made his way to the store.

Walking through the streets of Jericho felt strange to Tyler. All his life, this town was all he had known, and all he had wished to escape. When he finally did, things went even worse. And now he was back, without being really back. The last time he had come here, it had been with Isaac, and his mother. They still had hope, back then, that they could save her. Now it was only the two of them, and Tyler wasn't about to lose his last remaining family. Isaac's health had always been fragile —that much he knew— but he had no idea if a fever could be enough to be a real danger. The fact it had risen so high so fast was worrisome though. As was his refusal to see a doctor or go to the hospital.

Tyler shook these thoughts as he reached the drugstore. The town used to have an independent pharmacy, in the past, his dad once told him. But then the owner retired, and no one stepped up to take after him. It closed, and the local drugstore's owner took it upon himself to open a pharmacy aisle in his store, and hire some of the old pharmacists for prescriptions. It was small, but he knew they'd have what he needed.

He took a deep breathe, and entered the store. Thankfully, it was relatively empty. It was the middle of the week after all, and before the evening peak hours. Better be fast. It didn't take him long to locate and grab a bottle of ibuprofen —finally, an unexpired one! Now, the actual difficult part. Tyler internally cursed his luck when he found himself faced with an 'out of service' sign in front of the self-checkouts, and headed towards the only available option. Shit. The cashier was Vanessa, a girl he had gone to high-school with, and might or might not have flirted with. What kind of luck was that?

He lowered his head as he set the bottle on the counter, hoping the boredom from the day's work would make her uninterested enough not to notice who was in front of her. It seemed to work, at first. She muttered a 'Hello' then barely spared him a glance as she grabbed the bottle and scanned it. But as she handed him back the bottle, her eyes lingered a little longer…and suddenly widened, her mouth opened in shock. She had recognized him.

Tyler's muscles tensed, ready to flee at the first sign of a threat, but nothing came. After a few seconds of shock —the girl's eyes darting back and forth from Tyler to the pill bottle, back to Tyler— her expression dropped.

"It'll be $8.78."

Tyler blinked several times, in shock. "W-what?"

She nodded at his hands.

"The ibuprofen. A bottle like that is $8.78. Cash or card?"

He tried to regain his footing, and stuttered "Uh-I… cash."

That couldn't be right. Did she intend on calling the cops on him the moment he'd turn his back? Or was she going to pretend she didn't see anything? Or maybe she hadn't actually recognized him, and only found him familiar… The response came after he finished paying and was about to leave with the medication.

"Tyler."

Shit. So she did recognize him. He looked back at her, only to be met with a sympathetic smile. She looked a bit embarrassed, as if she wanted to offer support and reassurance, but didn't know where to start. And still, a hint of fear in her eyes. A mix of nostalgia for someone she used to know, empathy from seeing him in that state, obviously on the run and hiding… and still that knowledge of who he was. A killer.

"Good evening," she finally said.

Tyler nodded. "Good evening, Ness". But she was already back on her phone, acting as if she didn't hear him.

He exited the store feeling lighter, and knowing deep down she was not going to rat him out to the cops. She had had a decision to make, and she made it. She would have his back. Why? Tyler wasn't exactly sure. But all that mattered was that now, he had something that could help Isaac.

Isaac's dreams made no sense. There was a red ball floating in nothingness, and suddenly he was at the beach, a little kid, a wave engulfing him. He saw blue gingham. Where did he saw it before? He was at a train station and he heard his father scold him for eating his sister's baby, and that was ridiculous, the baby was in his arms right now. Wait, when did his sister have a baby? She was 12. Where was everyone? He was alone now, only him and the baby screaming in his arms, except that when he looked down the baby was gone, but he could still hear him cry, he looked for him, reaching out, screaming-

"Tyler!"

Isaac woke up, soaked in sweat, his arm outstretched, prosthetic hand grabbing the other side of the bed —empty. Tyler was gone.

Tyler

Isaac weakly propped himself up on his elbow, and tried to call out again, his voice still trembling and weak.

"T-Tyler?"

He was met only with silence. Tyler was gone. Gone. Isaac felt a rush of panic come over him. His feverish mind, still plagued by the nonsensical dreams, was trying to come up with an explanation to Tyler's absence. Had he gone looking for medication? Where? At the Bullpen? That was too far away. In town? No, no that would have been too reckless, even for Tyler… What was he saying? It was Tyler Galpin they were talking about. The teen who had sneaked into his hometown's hospital while he was a criminal on the run simply to threaten his ex. The teen who had infiltrated a ceremony full of outcasts who could team up to bring him down just to exert his revenge. Tyler would take any risk necessary once his mind was set on a goal.

But a little voice in the back of Isaac's mind was singing another song.

He abandoned you.

No.

You are weak.

No!

Your father always knew it. He was right.

Shut up!!

Even Françoise made her life without you when your body gave out. Her son did the same.

Isaac choked back tears and rose from the bed, world spinning around him, pain pumping in his head. His thoughts bumping and merging into each other as if someone was stirring his brain. He couldn't pass out, not again. He needed to find Tyler, wherever he was, whatever the reason for his departure.

Clinging to consciousness, supporting himself on the furniture, Isaac painfully made his way to the stairs. He stumbled, hitting the steps in front of him with a yelp of pain. That will leave a bruise, he thought, while internally cursing Donovan for not installing a railing. The staircase was steep, and he found himself crawling to the top, supporting himself with the next step. His telekinesis allowed him to move the doghouse out of the way, but the toll on his body was one he couldn't bear. He didn't manage more than a few steps in the chill evening air before he collapsed in the grass and fell once more into darkness.

His return to consciousness was sweeter than when he had left it. He found himself moving, enveloped in a warm embrace. It took him a moment before he understood that he was being carried, to recognize the gray ceiling of the bunker staircase, and to realize who was carrying him.

"T-Tyler…"

He came back

The boy looked at him with worry. He opened his mouth, bit back a snarky comment, and settled for a smile.

"I'm here. And I got meds. You're gonna be alright."

Finding his uncle collapsed in the grass, motionless, had made his heart stop for a moment. If Isaac had died alone while he was away, he wouldn't have survived it. Thankfully, he had simply passed out from the fever. Carrying him was easy: despite his size, he didn't weight much. Especially not to a Hyde.

"W-Where were you… ? I-I woke u-up and… and you were gone. I-I thought…" Isaac couldn't bring himself to finish. Even in the depth of fever, he was conscious of the level of vulnerability he was already allowing his nephew to see. Things he wouldn't have wished him to witness before years of knowing each other. But alas, his body had decided otherwise —as always. He hated feeling constricted by this flesh vessel, once again.

Tyler was smart enough to understand what was left unsaid. He knew all too well how it felt, to be abandoned. He was, however, surprised to see his own fears mirrored in his uncle. Maybe they were more alike than he had initially thought, he pondered as he set Isaac on the couch after a glance at the sweat-soaked sheets of the bed.

"I'm sorry. I… I couldn't find any meds, and I couldn't leave you like that." As he spoke, he took the bottle out of his jacket pocket and popped the lid open, presenting Isaac with two pills.

Isaac remained unresponsive a moment, Tyler could almost see the gears turning in his head. Suddenly, everything click in place.

"Y-… you went into town? T-Tyler, you… D-did anyone s-see you? T-That was so s-stupid!" He was trying to sound angry, but the violent shaking from the fever, and the level of his voice, lowered to accommodate his headache, nullified any of his usual threatening aura.

Tyler huffed.

"Stupid? Alright then, next time you get a bad fever I'll just stick a thermometer in your mouth and see what temperature you can reach before you kick the bucket."

Isaac rolled his eyes, and immediately regretted it, the movement sending a flash of pain in his head. He grunted, and took the pills.

"You need to eat something too, for your stomach," Tyler said, walking to the kitchen and fetching an apple. He sliced it into smaller portions, and offered some to Isaac. "It's been long enough since you threw up, it should be fine…"

Isaac remained silent as he took small bites, fighting the nausea.

"You know, I thought I was doing you a favor. You died twice already, once in an explosion caused by your enemies, once by ripping your own heart out… I couldn't let you have a normie death like dying of the flu, right?"

That actually drew a smile from Isaac. Good.

"I-I guess you're right… that'd be p-pathetic."

Tyler nodded, and stood up. While Isaac tried to down enough food for the medication not to attack his stomach, his nephew changed the bedding so he wouldn't have to lie in cold and damp sheets. He also threw some clean clothes at Isaac who was still dressed in his button-up shirt, and helped him get changed.

Once everything was done, and the DaVinci lay down in the freshly made bed, Tyler couldn't help but let his hand linger on his cheek after pulling the blankets over him. The warmth of his uncle's skin still bothered him, but he knew it was too early for the medication to have had any effect yet. Isaac gently put his hand over Tyler's, and closed his eyes.

"Françoise u-used to take care o-of me like that, too…" he said softly before opening his eyes and looking intensely at Tyler with tired eyes. "You remind me of her."

That pulled a bit at Tyler's heartstrings. The memory of his mother —always bittersweet— but also the idea that Isaac was still looking for her in him. And the fear, deep down, that his uncle was only seeing him as a placeholder for his sister.

"But you're not her."

Tyler blinked. To anyone else —and even to Tyler from a few months ago— this would have been a mean-spirited comment. But he knew better. From the inflection he had used —the same as in the vet clinic— to the fact he hadn't stuttered once despite the shivers still shaking his body. This was not an accusation of a failure to comply to a role he had never agreed to: it was a confirmation. That Isaac knew and loved Tyler for who he was, and not as his mother's ghost.

The boy felt a weight lifted from his chest, and not removing his hand from Isaac's face, lay beside him on the bed. He gently rubbed his thumb against his uncle's cheek, watching him fall asleep as his shivering quieted down and his breathing evened out. The medication finally kicked in, and he could watch Isaac's body finally release tension out of exhaustion.

When Isaac woke up once again, Tyler was here. He was here at his side, warm body against his now colder one. He was here in the bed, a hand still resting on his cheek, comforting. Usually, he was the one to be a comforting presence, enveloping his nephew with his long limbs when he allowed him to. But for once, it was pleasant to be pampered.

"Hi," Tyler said with a smile.

"Hi," he replied with a tired voice.

"Feeling better?"

"hmm" Isaac nodded, basking in the feeling of the pain subsiding in his body, in his head, and not being subjected to waves of warmth and cold. "Much better." He knew that was only temporary, but at least now he had a way to find relief. "Thank you," he added.

"It's nothing," Tyler brushed it off. He would have done anything to ensure his uncle's safety.

"Hmm… And I'm… glad that you didn't take advantage of the situation," he added as a joke, nodding at their entangled bodies. Deep down, he knew very well that Tyler would never do anything of the sort. But fear wasn't always logical, no matter how much he wished for it to be. Voicing it, even as a joke, was a desperate plea for Tyler to take this fear and wrap it in reassurance.

And Tyler understood.

"Nah, you were so warm, didn't want to take the risk to get my dick boiled…" then, his grin widened. "Wait, it doesn't sound too bad actually… maybe I missed my shot…"

Isaac slapped him gently over the head, making him laugh.

It was hard for Isaac to pretend to be angry when bantering that way with his nephew, when seeing him catch on his anxiety and laugh it all away with his own brand of dark humor. He knew that laugh wasn't at his expense, but was full of relief, after worrying himself sick, and taking such a big risk for his sake.

"We'll see, when you catch it and get sick, we'll see who's laughing then!"

And seeing they did.

Tyler eventually caught that flu.

He felt a bit febrile for a day, and was back to normal the next morning.

Isaac silently cursed every deities under the sun for making him as weak in body as he was strong in mind. Tyler tried to comfort him saying it was just 'the universe nerfing him, or else it would be unfair for the others'.

But still… Isaac was pissed.