Fluff Idea: Patton Is Feeling Sick And Virgil Offers Cuddles And Some Calming Tea To Help The Sick Feeling

Fluff idea: Patton is feeling sick and Virgil offers cuddles and some calming tea to help the sick feeling and they watch their favorite movies all day until Patton falls asleep.

Mnnneyyesysyasdfas May I do a smol thing?

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“Pat? Are you okay?”

Patton lifted his head from where he’d rested it on his forearms and blinked up at Virgil. He hadn’t even heard the other side come into the kitchen; he’d just sat down at the table for a second, hadn’t he? Just a second. He just needed to rest, that was all, then he was going to make breakfast for everyone. The dizzy feeling in his head (and the accompanying churning in his gut) was probably just a result of a bad night’s sleep, or maybe indigestion from his late-night nibble of leftover pizza, and it was going to pass any moment now, absolutely. 

Definitely any moment now. 

Virgil was still looking at him and Patton abruptly realized that an uncomfortable amount of moments had stretched between them in silence, Virgil’s inquiry still hovering in the air between them unanswered. 

“Hey, kiddo!” Patton made a valiant attempt at enthusiasm, but his voice sounded as wobbly as he felt, and the effort fell flat. “You betcha, I’m fine! Just taking a minute or two before I start breakfast.” 

“A minute or two to what?” Virgil’s frown was deepening, creases growing at the corners of his mouth and between his eyebrows, and he reached up and laid the back of his hand against Patton’s forehead without waiting for a reply. Patton made a tiny noise in his throat, quite involuntarily, and leaned into the touch. Virgil’s hand was blessedly cool against Patton’s flushed forehead. 

“Oh, just…you know. A minute or two.” His words were vague, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when Virgil had moved closer, a solid comforting presence against the still-spinning room. 

“Uh huh.” Virgil let his hand fall from Patton’s forehead, but thankfully it didn’t go far, his palm coming to rest against the back of Patton’s neck instead. Patton mewled, a pitiful little sound, and slumped against the anxious side, closing his eyes as his tummy sloshed unhappily. 

“Just needed to rest a bit before making breakfast, is all,” Patton mumbled, then had to swallow as the unhappy sloshing turned to a more threatening churn at the thought of food. 

“I think maybe you need to rest a bit more than a minute or two,” Virgil said gently, though there was amusement in his voice. “Patton, you’re sick.” 

“I’m not,” Patton mumbled, hoping if he said the words with enough conviction he could make them true. 

His rebellious gut was unimpressed. 

‘You are.” Virgil sighed, and began running the fingers of his other hand through Patton’s hair. “What was it, do you think? Did you eat something that’s disagreeing with you?” 

“I may have had some of the leftover pizza,” Patton admitted. “Just a nibble or two.” 

“Pizza?” Virgil’s fingers paused. “Not the pizza from our last movie night?” 

“Just a nibble. Or maybe a slice. Or three.” 

“Dammit! Patton, that pizza was over a week old.” Patton could hear Virgil’s scowl. “Roman was supposed to throw it out days ago, that freaking idiot. You’ve probably got food poisoning now.” 

“Oh, I’m sure it’s just…” Patton broke off abruptly, a sour burp escaping his throat, and whimpered again. “Oh, dear.” 

“Okay.” With audible effort, Virgil set aside his irritation at their forgetful prince, and instead took a step back so he could bend and look Patton in the face. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to sit there for just a few more minutes while I go get things set up. Then you’re going to take it easy for the day. No cooking. No nothing, unless you count resting. Got it?” 

He looked so stern that Patton couldn’t really do anything but nod. Virgil stepped away and Patton set his spinning head back on the kitchen table, letting the passage of time slip back into obscurity as he focused on keeping the contents of his stomach where they belonged. 

A certain amount of minutes later (Patton could not, even under the most stringent of interrogations, have said exactly how many), Virgil’s hand landed on Patton’s shoulder once more. With minimal protest, he let himself be pulled gently to his feet. There, the world tipped dangerously, but Virgil stood his ground, his arm around Patton’s waist and one of Patton’s arms pulled over Virgil’s shoulders. Virgil’s fingers were warm and strong where they were wrapped around Patton’s wrist, and Patton sighed, surrendering himself completely to Virgil’s competent care. 

They shuffled together into the living room, and Patton let himself be settled onto the couch, which Virgil had made up with cool, clean bed sheets and a pile of pillows. He had also procured a bottle of Pepto-Bismol, in its unattractive bubblegum pink, and Patton obediently swallowed the dose that was nudged against his lips. He made a face, waiting to see if his stomach would accept or reject the offering, but after a few uncertain moments, it appeared things were going to stay where he’d put them. He breathed a sigh of relief. 

Virgil echoed it, but Patton cracked an eye open when he heard Virgil set something down in front of him. He cringed but nodded gratefully when he saw the small trashcan now in easy reach in front of the couch.

“Just in case,” Virgil said apologetically, face twisting in sympathy as he reached out to stroke Patton’s hair back from his forehead. 

“No,it’s probably a good idea,” Patton mumbled, grimacing as another sour burp bubbled up to the back of his throat. 

“Try to get some rest, okay?” Virgil instructed, rising to his feet. “You’ll feel better in no time.” 

“Wait!” Patton reached out and grabbed Virgil’s sleeve, wanting to ask him to stay–not wanting to be alone–but when Virgil looked at him, the words died on Patton’s lips and he settled instead for, “Thanks, Virge.” 

Virgil smiled, and nodded, before moving out of Patton’s line of sight. But Patton didn’t have long to lament his absence: moments later, he returned, a bottle of water in one hand and a bottle of grape gatorade in the other. He set the drinks on the coffee table, murmuring, “For later, when you can keep them down,” then settled himself at the other end of the couch, pulling Patton’s feet into his lap. 

“I’m going to put on a movie, but I’ll keep it on low volume, okay?” Patton heard him say. “You should try to sleep if you can. But I’ll be here if you need anything.” 

Patton swallowed, blinking back a few tears when he heard the opening credits for Winnie the Pooh begin, and nodded. He settled himself down as comfortably as he could, focusing on the familiar sounds of the movie and the reassuring weight of Virgil’s hand on his ankle. 

He wanted to stay awake, to enjoy the company and the movie, but his eyelids were starting to feel like someone had weighed them down with something. Besides…he thought maybe if he could just sleep a bit more, he’d feel lots better. And maybe when he woke up again, Virgil would be here still, and they could watch a movie together, just the two of them. 

He thought Virgil would probably be willing to do that. The thought made him smile. 

He tugged off his glasses and set them on the coffee table, then nuzzled his face in against the blessedly cool pillowcase. And between one breath and the next, he was asleep. 

*