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“And where do you think you’re going?”
Stan huffed as he heard a familiar and highly exasperated voice. He had the duvet from his small bunk thrown off of him, sitting on the edge of the bed about to get up when his brother caught him in the act.
He’d been so quiet as well, yet it seemed his brother was watching him like a hawk and it was doing absolutely nothing to his sour mood about the whole scenario he had found himself in.
He tried to hold in the cough that was threatening to emerge, not wanting to concede defeat to it or his brother. He didn’t have to look around to the door to see the thin lipped frown and raised eyebrow, he could hear it all in the scolding lilt of his voice. “I’m getting up like I usually do, to do what I usually do.”
“Uh-huh?” The tone was now vaguely disbelieving and unimpressed.
“Uh-huh.” Stan snapped, eyes finally zoning in on his brother with a markedly deeper scowl than the one being returned to him. He knew there was concern hidden under the irritation at him but at this moment he couldn’t really register it enough to give in.
He hated being ill. He was fine, he was better than fine.
He’d been through worse.
You can’t just miss a day off work for a cold. You got up and powered through it.
And yet Ford insisted-
Stan growled under his breath, curses spewing forth as he stood up in one quick movement, grim satisfaction making him smile though it came out more as a grimace that he levelled at his brother.
He’d just have to prove he was alright and Ford would give up and-
The cough that had been threatening to rear its ugly head finally refused to back down anymore, hacking out of his throat painfully. The room span as he stood up too quickly, listing in a way that contradicted the steady sway of the boat.
“Stanley!”
Stan didn’t have all that much time to register that there were hands propping up before he was suddenly once again bundled up in bed, staring at the ceiling in perplexity.
It took a few more seconds to register that there were suddenly more blankets and pillows being propped up around and on top of him. “Ford…” The word came out as a frustrated groan as he fought to sit up.
“Stay. Put.”
Stan blinked dazedly, still sitting up but finally halting in his efforts to get out of bed and on to the deck of the ship. Ford’s tone was strong, like their Ma’s had once been on several occasions when he’d gotten sick on a weekend and didn’t want to sit around in bed all day when there was adventures to be had.
Not much had changed in that regard it seemed.
“Ford, I’m fine.”
The words were weak at best.
“I thought you were meant to be a good liar, knucklehead?”
Ford ignored the pout he got in return, instead tutting at his insistence to sit up and responded be propping the pillows up behind him and pushing him to lean back.
“I guess sitting up will help the coughing.”
“Ford-”
“Stan, you took a dunk in the sea- a freezing cold one whilst fighting that blasted kraken, even. Now, I know you don’t want to admit it but it’s done a number on you. You’re lucky to have not been injured too badly escaping it but that doesn’t mean the water didn’t get to you.”
“It’s just a cold-”
“And it’ll get worse if you don’t rest.” Ford snapped at him, watching Stan’s mouth snap shut quickly. He sighed, anger dissipating beneath a stab of guilt. He hadn’t meant to should. He rubbed at his eyes under his glasses, feeling suddenly tired himself. “Must you be so difficult?”
“Duh. I’m not a kid.”
Ford snorted before he’d even finished, the scowl plastering itself across Stan’s face again.
“I meant, I don’t need all this fussing, I’m a grown man. I can look after myself.”
“Uh-huh?” The disbelieving and unimpressed tone had returned.
“You have no room to talk Mr ‘Don’t worry I brought my nutrition pills along for the journey, just grab some food for yourself’.”
“I’ll have you know they are perfect food replacements.” Ford’s eyebrows furrowed, arms crossing as he tried to stare Stan down.
Stan wasn’t having any of it.
“Note replacement and not actual food being the point there, Sixer.”
“This- don’t change the subject.” Ford uncrossed his arms, pointing a finger at Stan. “Now you are going to stay put and rest until you feel better. And none of this ‘I’m fine’ when you are clearly not.” He growled when Stan opened his mouth to argue. “You almost fell over standing up, Stan, that is the definition of not ok.”
“Well, you’d know that wouldn’t you, Poindexter.” Stan crossed his arms, falling back into the pillows in a huff of irritation. He glanced up at the ceiling before his head listed to the side, eyes locking on to Ford with a more curious expression than frustrated. “So, Sixer, if the roles were reversed, would you listen?”
“Well, for one I wouldn’t have tried to punch a kraken in the eye.”
“Sixer.”
“Alright, alright, I’d be just as difficult.”
Stan nodded, smug and satisfied. “Thought so. It’s what brothers’ do- make life difficult.”
Ford huffed out a laugh, shaking his head before coming to sit on the side of the bed. “Fair. Very fair. But are you telling me you wouldn’t be just as adamant that I had to get better before I helped out anymore?”
Stan groaned, head hitting the pillow. “Using my own words against me. How dare you!” There was no heat behind the words though, the notion finally sinking in through the fogginess.
He didn’t have to get up and work every day like he did before at the shack, didn’t have to work every night trying to get his brother back no matter what ailed him.
He had him back and they were sailing the world together, just like they’d always dreamed.
Being ill wasn’t going to change all that. The panicky bubbling fire that had popped up at having to stay in bed for the day when there was work to be done was slowly fading behind the truth of the matter.
He was allowed to rest now.
They both were.
“Besides, your nurse would kill me if I so much as let you out of my sight.”
Stan hummed questioning, coming back to reality as he tilted his head back to look at Ford’s sheepish grin.
“The kids called last night once you fell asleep. I didn’t have the heart to wake you- oi, I know how terribly you’ve been sleeping the last few nights. That cough isn’t exactly quiet.” Ford silenced him with a look before continuing. “I said you weren’t up for it and whether they could ring in the morning and Mabel gave me a list of things I had to do to look after you.” He spread his arms wide, trying not to laugh. “All this is Nurse’s orders not mine. And I don’t know about you but I can’t disobey Nurse’s orders.”
“Nurse Mabel’s got you wrapped around her little finger.” Stan shook his head fondly, finally letting himself sink down a bit more. Ford beamed at him and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of remorse now that all was said and done. “As long as there’s no sprinkles in my glass of water, then I guess this is fine.”
“Thankfully, the items she requested aren’t on the boat or close enough to get, though she’s promised to send some. I said hot soup would have to do instead.” Ford smiled, tucking another blanket around Stan where he’d dislodged it earlier. “She seemed put out by that but made sure I knew that although we didn’t have any stuffed animals that all the spare pillows had to be relocated to your bed in the meantime.”
Stan hummed in agreement, raising a sleepy eyebrow at the cushioning he now had. “Guess this all makes sense now. Speaking of soup though?” He looked up hopefully, burying himself in the duvet so only his eyes appeared above the quilt.
“Oh? Now you’re willing to listen?”
“Well, now there’s food involved…” Stan grinned childishly as his brother looked up the ceiling as if asking for strength. “Hey, I’m listening, aren’t I? Isn’t that good enough.”
“You’re only listening because Mabel told you to.”
“Fair.” Stan sighed, a mockingly bone weary one. “I guess she has me wrapped around her little finger too.”
Ford let out a bark of laughter as he stood up to go make an early lunch. “You were wrapped around her little finger first, you have no room to talk.”
Stan chirped out an acknowledgement, safe in the fact that Mabel wasn’t actually here to cover him from head to toe in colourful blankets and plush toys.
It was a few moments later when Ford, soup bowl in hand, giving a soft inaudible sigh, found him again curled up and sleeping in the mass of blankets.
He crushed the wave of guilt and gave him a small nudge, wincing at the disappointed whine he got in return.
“Come on, soup first and then you can go back to sleep, how does that sound?”
“Hmm… ‘Kay.” Stan scrunched his eyes up before opening them blearily, and rubbing at them. He sat up as Ford put the bowl down, rolling his eyes as Ford put a hand out to prop the pillows up behind him, the other steadying his shoulder.
He refused to admit that he might have sat up a bit fast again, nope, didn’t do that at all.
Didn’t need Ford’s help at all.
“Here.”
Stan gave a grateful little grunt as he took the warm bowl, letting the heat seep into him as he took a deep breath in.
He eyed Ford suspiciously a few moments into eating. “So, where’s yours?”
Ford rolled his eyes at him, a disgruntled strangled noise resonating out of him. “I’m not the one who needs looking after right now.”
“No, but I still don’t see you eating.”
“I- you- the soup is yours I’ll be making sure you have a lot of it today in between sleeping. I don’t want to waste any.”
“Waste any.” Stan parroted him, making sure to emphasise how ridiculous he thought the notion was.
“My nutritional tablets are perfectly capable of giving me everything I need, thank you very much, Stanley.”
Stan make a noncommittal noise in response, eyes not focusing on Ford but he could feel the burn of his glare on the top of his head as he stared into his soup bowl.
“You betrayed me to Mabel, how could you do that?”
Ford blinked at the sudden conversation change but let himself relax, his face almost thankful. He gave a wry smile, the teasing tone slipping back into his voice.
“Only way I knew you’d actually look after yourself.”
“Hmm…maybe I’ll try that.”
“Wait, what?”
“Maybe Mabel can shake some sense into you about those blasted pills.”
Stan chortled, sipping his soup with an innocent look on his face, masking the grin that was struggling to come forth. Ford spluttered before him, unable to come up with any suitable argument, adding to the difficulty of keeping a straight face.
“…I’ll go pour myself a bowl of soup.”
“That’s what I thought.”