Work Text:
Tommy knew something was wrong when Tubbo didn’t complain. It was such a small thing that, at first, he didn’t notice. The trio had been sitting around the living room for most of the evening, doing very little. Purpled had his laptop open, half paying attention to whatever game he was playing. Tommy had been talking for the sake of talking, bouncing from one subject to another with the sort of enthusiasm that made it impossible to tell whether he actually cared about any of them.
Tubbo had said almost nothing.
Normally, that would have been enough to make Tommy suspicious. Instead, he’d assumed Tubbo was just tired.
Then Tubbo had stood up. He made it three steps. The chair scraped loudly against the floor as he caught himself on it, one hand pressed hard against his stomach. Tommy stopped talking. Tubbo stayed there for a moment, breathing through his nose.
“You alright?”
“Yeah.”
Too quick. Tubbo straightened, then he turned and walked towards the bathroom. Tommy watched him go. There was something wrong with the way he walked. Not dramatic. Not stumbling. Just more careful than usual, like every movement had to be negotiated with his body.
Tommy looked at Purpled. Purpled looked back. Neither said anything. Then the bathroom door clicked shut.
A minute later, they heard the unmistakable sound of someone being sick. Tommy was on his feet before he’d even thought about moving.
“Tubbo?!”
Another retch came from inside the bathroom. The door opened a crack. Tubbo was sitting on the bathroom floor. His back was against the side of the bathtub, knees pulled towards his chest, one hand still desperately gripping the edge of the toilet. His face had gone pale enough that the freckles across his cheeks stood out sharply.
Tommy’s stomach dropped. “What’s wrong, Tubbs?”
“Stomach bug, probably,” Tubbo swallowed.
He said it like he was just commenting on the weather. Tommy stared at him.
“That’s not–”
But another wave hit Tubbo before Tommy could finish. Tubbo barely managed to turn towards the toilet before he was sick again. Tommy immediately backed away.
Not because he didn’t want to help. But because he didn’t know how to. For one horrible second, his mind went completely blank.
Tubbo was sick.
Tubbo was really sick.
Tubbo was the one who knew what to do when someone was sick. Tubbo was the one who always had water nearby, who knew where the medicine was kept, who remembered whether they’d eaten, who could produce a blanket from out of nowhere.
Tommy had once watched Tubbo organise an entire evening around someone’s headache without making it look like he’d done anything at all.
But now it was Tubbo on the floor and Tommy had no clue what to do.
“Should I call someone?”
Tubbo shook his head weakly.
“Are you sure? Do you need a doctor?”
“No.”
“Do you need–”
“Tommy.”
“What?! Should I–”
“Give me a second.”
Tommy shut up. That was worse. He hovered uselessly in the doorway, his hands opening and closing at his sides.
Purpled appeared behind him. He took one look into the bathroom and his expression changed. Not much. Just enough.
“Move.”
Tommy immediately stepped aside as Purpled crouched beside Tubbo.
“Can you sit up?”
Tubbo nodded. Purpled helped him shift away from the toilet and leaned him back against the bathtub.
“Water?”
Tubbo gave another tiny nod. Tommy turned immediately.
“I’ll get it.”
“Get the– thanks Tommy,” Purpled said.
Tommy was already half way down the hall.
He came back with a glass. Purpled took it, held it out, and waited.
Tubbo took one tiny sip. Then another.
“Slowly,” Purpled directed quietly.
Tommy stood there, watching. “Should I do anything else?”
Purpled looked at him. “Get a towel.”
Tommy disappeared again. There was already a towel in the bathroom cabinet. He knew that. He knew it because Tubbo had told him at least three times before. Tommy grabbed it quickly.
When he returned, Purpled had moved Tubbo slightly so that he wasn’t sitting directly on the cold tile.
Tommy handed over the towel. “Anything else?”
“Bin.”
Tommy got the bin.
“Anything else?”
“Open the window.”
Tommy opened the window.
“Anything–”
“Tommy.”
“What?!”
“Breathe.”
Tommy stared at him. Purpled’s voice wasn’t unkind.
“Just breathe, Tommy.”
Tommy hadn’t realised that he’d been holding one in. He inhaled sharply. Tubbo made a weak noise from the floor. Tommy’s attention snapped right back to his best friend.
“Is he okay?”
Purpled nodded. “He’s sick.”
“I know he’s sick.”
“He’s going to feel like shit for a few days.”
Tommy swallowed. “That doesn’t mean he’s dying or anything, right?”
“No.”
Tommy looked at Tubbo again. Tubbo had his eyes closed now. His skin was clammy, his hair sticking messily to his forehead.
Tommy crouched down beside him. “Tubbs?”
Tubbo opened one eye. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“You look scared, big man.”
Tommy laughed once. It came out wrong.
“I am not!”
“You are too.”
“Shut up!” Tommy reached towards him, stopped, then pulled his hand back.
He didn’t know where he was supposed to touch him. Should he put a hand on his shoulder? His forehead? Would touching him make things worse?
Tubbo closed his eyes again. Tommy looked up at Purpled.
“What do I do?”
Purpled didn’t answer immediately, or directly. He simply picked up the glass and handed it back to Tubbo.
“Small sips, remember?”
Tubbo drank.
“Then we get him somewhere more comfortable.”
Tommy nodded. “Okay, yeah. Makes sense.”
Purpled looked at him. “Want to help him walk?”
“Yes.”
The answer came too quickly. Tommy got down beside Tubbo just as quickly.
“Come on. Tubbs.”
Tubbo tried to stand. His knees buckled almost immediately. Tommy caught him.
“Prime–”
“I've got him,” Purpled said.
Tommy's grip tightened. “I've got him.”
“I know. I’m just helping.”
Purpled shifted to Tubbo’s other side.
Together, they got him upright. Tubbo leaned heavily against Tommy. He felt too warm. Or too cold. Tommy couldn’t really tell. His arm went around Tubbo’s waist.
“Slowly,” Purpled reminded him.
They made it to the bedroom eventually. Tubbo sat down on the edge of the bed and immediately curled forward, his arms wrapped around his stomach like armour. Tommy stood in front of him.
“Do you want the blanket?”
Tubbo nodded. Tommy grabbed it.
“More water?”
Another nod. Tommy grabbed that too.
“Bin?”
Tommy put it beside the bed before Tubbo could even answer.
“Your phone?”
Tubbo pointed vaguely towards the living room. Tommy ran to get it.
By the time he came back, Purpled hand pulled the curtains almost completely shut. The room was dim. Tubbo was lying on his side. Tommy placed the phone beside him.
“There’s your phone.”
“Thanks.”
Tommy sat on the floor beside the bed. Purpled raised his eyebrow watching him.
“You can sit on the bed, you know.”
“I don’t want to bother him.”
“You’re already sitting like three inches away.”
“That’s different,” Tommy frowned.
Purpled didn’t argue. Instead, he picked up Tubbo’s water and checked how much he’d managed to drink.
“Not enough.”
Tommy's chest tightened. “How much is enough?”
“Don't worry about that right now.”
“But—”
“Make sure he only takes small sips.”
Tommy nodded. Right. Small sips. He could do that. That was something he could do.
Tubbo shifted. Tommy immediately leaned forward.
“You alright?”
Tubbo grimaced. “Yeah.”
“No, you're not.”
“I know.”
Tommy went quiet. That was the first time Tubbo had admitted it. Usually, Tubbo would have been the one making jokes. He'd have been reassuring Tommy. He'd have been organising everything while simultaneously insisting he was completely fine.
Instead, he was curled beneath a blanket, eyes squeezed shut. Tommy hated it. He hated how helpless it made him feel. He hated that he couldn't make it stop. He hated that Tubbo looked so small. He hated that Purpled seemed to know what to do. Most of all, he hated that a part of him was waiting for Tubbo to sit up and fix everything simply by being himself again.
Tubbo shifted again. Tommy reached for the glass.
“Water?”
A nod. Tommy helped him sit enough to drink. One sip. Another. Then Tubbo pushed the glass away. Tommy put it down.
“Good.”
Tubbo's eyes opened. “You're being weird.”
“How?” Tommy frowned.
“You're hovering.”
“I'm not.”
“You are.”
“I'm making sure you're okay.”
“I know.”
Tubbo's voice was soft. Tommy looked away.
“I don't know what I'm doing.”
There was a pause. Tubbo blinked slowly.
“Neither do I.”
Tommy looked back at him. That was somehow worse. Tubbo usually knew. He always knew. Tommy swallowed hard. Purpled sat down in the chair beside the bed.
“You don't need to know.”
Tommy looked at him. “What?”
“You don't need to know how to fix it.”
Tommy's jaw tightened. “But he's sick.”
“Yeah.”
“And I can't make him better.”
“No.”
Tommy looked at Tubbo again. His fingers were curled tightly into the blanket.
“I should be able to do something.”
“You are.”
“Getting water isn’t doing anything.”
Purpled’s expression softened. “It is when he needs water.”
Tommy didn’t answer. Purpled leaned back in the chair.
“Don’t be discouraged, Tommy.”
Tommy gave him a strange look. Purpled shrugged.
“I've been exactly where you are.”
Tommy stared at him for a moment. Then he looked down at the glass. He picked it up. Checked how much was left. Put it back. Tubbo had fallen asleep. His breathing was slow and even. Tommy watched him.
“Is he okay?”
Purpled nodded. “For now.”
Tommy's shoulders dropped. “For now?”
“He needs rest.”
“Oh.”
Tommy stayed where he was. The room was quiet. For once, nobody was talking. Purpled eventually got up to find something Tubbo could eat later, once his stomach settled. Tommy remained beside the bed, watching Tubbo sleep.
Every few minutes, he checked the water. Then the bin. Then Tubbo. Then the water again. He didn't know how long he stayed like that.
Eventually, Tubbo stirred. Tommy immediately looked up. Tubbo blinked at him.
“Hi.”
“Hey.”
“Still here?”
Tommy frowned. “Obviously.”
“Okay.” Tubbo smiled faintly.
His eyes closed again. Tommy sat back. He still couldn't make Tubbo better. He couldn't take the sickness away. He couldn't promise it would be gone in an hour, or by morning, or that Tubbo wouldn't wake up feeling worse.
But he could get the water. He could bring the bin closer. He could keep the curtains shut. He could sit there. For now, that was enough.
And when Tubbo reached blindly from beneath the blanket, Tommy caught his hand without hesitation. This time, he knew exactly what to do.