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Robert sniffled grossly, pulling the blankets tighter around his shivering body. He tried to swallow past the ache in his throat, a pathetic whine slipping out before he could stop it.
He let out a hiss of pain when Beef leapt onto the bed, the rotund chihuahua shaking the entire mattress in the process. Normally, the sight of his goofy little dog’s perma-blep would have made Robert smile, but even that felt like too much right now. He didn’t have the energy to fend off puppy kisses. He barely had enough energy to move.
“Not now, Beef,” Robert rasped.
His chest heaved and he folded into himself. Beef tried to crawl up beside him, bullying his wet nose against the back of his owner’s hand.
Robert whimpered, waving him away weakly. “Go… go lie down, ‘kay? I can’t-”
His words were swallowed by another cough.
But Beef wasn’t about to leave. Not when Robert was so clearly not feeling okay. He spun around in a wide circle, tail thumping against the mattress as he nuzzled against Robert’s face. Anything to make him feel better. His little claws dug into the comforter, a weak attempt at pushing the sickness away with sheer puppy determination.
Robert groaned, pressing his face into the sweat soaked pillow.
He never should have let Chad and Herman leave him at home by himself. Never should have brushed them off when they asked if everything was okay. If he could handle being home on his own while they spent the weekend over in fucking Nevada with Chad’s family. He knew they cared, but he’d really wanted to prove that he could handle a couple days on his own without anyone kissing him on the forehead and bringing him soup every four hours.
Ugh, but soup sounded so good right now… Maybe it would soothe the ache in his throat. Melt the death from his bones and drain the aches from his body.
Robert’s eyes shot wide open as his stomach lurched. He flew forward, scrambling for the trash bin as bile burned the roof of his mouth. His eyes watered. His nose burned. Vile, bitter acid splattered against the trash bag, staining the plastic with bright yellow vomit. Robert sobbed when he retched again. Salty tears raced down his cheeks. He clutched the plastic wastebin as tight as he could, fingers weak from fatigue.
Another wave of nausea rolled over him, but there was nothing left for him to give. Instead, a strangled sob tore itself from his chest, followed by a gross, wet cough. He didn’t want soup any more. He wanted someone to hold him. To wipe the ickiness away and cuddle with him until he felt better again.
Robert groaned, reaching blindly for the tissue box on the nightstand. He needed to get this shit off his face.
Another shiver wracked through his body. His hands fumbled for the blanket again, muscles crying out in protest as he tucked the duvet under his chin. His skin felt too hot and too cold all at once. Definitely too clammy to be considered normal.
Whatever was going on with him, it was way worse than he’d expected it to be.
Robert could feel his thoughts getting all fuzzy and slow again. He wanted to fight it. Wanted to claw at the confines of his mind as he slipped deeper and deeper. The sickening sweetness was suffocating in all the worst ways, holding him captive in a cocoon of syrupy softness.
He flinched when his phone buzzed on the nightstand. Robert stared at it for a second, blinking the fogginess away as best as he could. He batted at his phone weakly, crying out when he knocked it clean off the nightstand. It hit the ground with a dull thud, the bright light of the glowing screen scorching his tired eyes.
“Nooooo…”
He fell back against the bed, blinking back fat tears as he curled up into a tight ball. His bottom lip wobbled dangerously as he turned to hide his face in the covers.
It was hard to tell if the room felt too big, or if he just felt incredibly small. Either way, the house was much too quiet, and his head was far too loud.
It made him mad. Angry even.
Was he really so weak that he’d result to crying like a baby for someone else to come save him? To pet his hair and change his clothes for him just because he had a bit of spit up?
He was a grown man for god sake! And a fairly well-known hero too, at that! Robert Robertson the Third, the same man who’d been tied up, tortured, and beaten beyond recognition on numerous occasions, would not let something as trivial as a stomach bug end his legacy. No, that was something he’d rather do on his own, without the interference of his subpar immune system.
Robert swiped at his face angrily, dragging himself closer to the edge of the bed despite the way his ribs screamed for him to lay back down. His nails scratched the carpet, and he growled when his fingers came up empty. He had to lean further, the shift in gravity sending a rush of throbbing pressure through his head, just to snatch his phone up from the ground.
> From Flambae:
- How r u holding up?
Robert’s face scrunched up all over again, vision blurry as he forced himself to type a response.
I’m ok, he started, then erased it.
His body felt so heavy. His head felt like it was both floating and sinking at the same time. His chest hurt. He was cold. And more than anything else, Robert was so, so tired.
> To Flambae:
- I don’t feel good.
The three little dots appeared almost immediately. They disappeared just as quickly.
Robert frowned at the screen, a pout forming on his lips. His eyelids drooped, but he forced them to stay open. He waited for the dots to come back, but they never did.
He wondered if Chad and Herm were having fun right now. Chad’s sister and niece, Farah and Moska, were going too, and Robert always had a blast hanging out with them. Moska never failed to make him laugh with all her silly impressions, and Farah was always ready to share the latest celebrity gossip. On top of that, they were always so understanding about Herm’s powers whenever they came over to visit. Robert liked that about them.
He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice the missed notification banners lighting up the top of his screen.
> From Flambae:
- What does “not good” mean?
- R U hurt??? Did something happen?
- Answer me, Nafasam.
- Robert!!
He squinted at his screen, trying to make sense of the little text bubbles. It was like he could see the words, but something was stopping him from being able to read them properly.
Before he could get too worked up about it, his screen flashed bright white and the vibrations changed from short bursts to a continuous buzzing.
> Incoming call: Chase
Robert jolted like he’d been electrocuted, scrambling to answer the phone.
Why was Chase calling? Chase didn’t know he was sick! And worse than that, Chase usually never called anyone to begin with. He always texted and sent stupid memes. Or he’d just show up to the apartment with coffee and unsolicited advice.
If Chase was calling him, then something had to be wrong.
Things had been rough since the speedster had taken on Mandy’s amulet. Sure, it kept him alive, but the amulet was a bandaid solution at best. A last ditch resort to keep Chase’s heart beating in his chest.
The thought of losing his big brother all over again made something ugly bleed out from Robert’s gut. The fear gave him the push he needed to shove himself up and lift the phone to his ear.
“Ch-” His voice cracked. He swallowed and tried again. “Chase?”
“Hey kiddo,” Chase greeted him. “Flambitch just sent a shit ton of messages asking me to check in on you. You feeling okay?”
Robert opened his mouth to answer and immediately wished he hadn’t. His stomach lurched again, nausea slamming into him so fast it stole the very breath from his lungs. He gagged, clutching his phone as a fresh batch of bile rose up his throat.
“Shit-” Chase cursed. “Robert? Are you throwing up?”
“I- I already did,” Robert admitted, too tired to fight the tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. “It won’t stop. I’m cold. I think-” He paused, his words slipping through his fingers like silk. “I’m tired.”
Chase’s voice softened again. “Are you alone?”
Robert nodded before realizing Chase couldn’t see him. “Yeah. Chad and Herm… they- they left for Nevada earlier.”
“I’m flying over.”
Robert shook his head weakly. “You don’t-”
“I can, and I will,” Chase cut in. “I’ll be there in five. Go ahead and unlock the door for me, ya little brat.”
The phone slipped from Robert’s hand when the call ended, landing on the bed beside him. He didn’t have the energy to pick it back up. He blinked slowly and dragged ragged, uneven breaths through his struggling lungs.
Geez. Was this how Visi felt whenever she fought in the field? He sure hoped not. Robert didn’t know what asthma felt like, but if it felt anything like this, then it sounded absolutely awful.
His brain was throbbing behind his eyes now, pain echoing throughout his skull like a battle cry in a coliseum. Five minutes felt like an eternity away, but he knew it’d only be a matter of time until Chase was banging on his front door.
His thoughts slammed into each other like bumper cars, urging him to follow Chase’s directions despite the sleepiness pulling at the corners of his mind. He should get up. Unlock the door. Do something useful.
He moved to get up, but his body betrayed him again.
Robert rolled onto his side just in time, retching weakly into the trash bin again. Nothing came up this time. Just sour spit and a broken, humiliating sob. His hands trembled so badly the bin rattled against the floor.
“Ugh,” he whispered to himself. “Get- Just get up.”
He pushed the bin away and dragged himself toward the edge of the bed. His feet hit the floor with a thump, still wrapped tightly in his puffy comforter. The cold hardwood sent a flash of hot pain racing up his legs, but he shoved the feeling aside with a quick hiss.
The metal tags of Beef’s collar jangled as he jumped down to join Robert on his quest to the door.
They made it about halfway there before Robert’s knees buckled.
He barely caught himself on the wall, sliding down until he was flush against the floor. He pressed a shaking hand to his chest, trying to will his heart to slow down before pushing himself back up.
He twisted the lock open with clumsy fingers.
Everything after that was a blur. He didn’t remember standing back up. He didn’t remember making it back to the bed. He cringed as his cheek rubbed against the damp pillow, breaths coming in thin little gasps.
He winced when he heard the front door fly wide open, slamming hard against the stopper.
“Robert!” Chase shouted, voice ripe with panic.
“In here,” Robert croaked.
He felt the bed dip beside him, whimpering when calloused hands turned him over. The light from the hallway spilled into his room, just bright enough for Robert to want to bash his head into the wall.
Chase hissed when he pressed a hand to Robert’s forehead. "Christ, kid! You're burning up.”
Robert reached out blindly, weak fingers hooking into his sweater.
"Chase..." he whimpered.
Chase reached for the trash bin just as Robert heaved against him, little sobs escaping between hiccuping breaths.
Beef let out a series of high-pitched yips at the intrusion. He gathered all the strength in his stubby legs and launched himself onto the bed, wretching a pained gasp from the man above him when he landed against Robert’s aching ribs. Beef lapped at Robert’s face immediately, his wet tongue darting out to catch the salt on his owner’s cheeks.
"Beef, stop," Robert rasped, feebly pushing at the chihuahua’s ears. "Go 'way please."
Usually, Beef was his favorite cuddle buddy. But not right now. As much as he loved his little dog, Beef’s excited little snorts were the last thing he needed to feel better.
"Hey, Beef! Down!" Chase scolded, using one hand to scoop the dog off the bed.
Beef didn't take the rejection well. He clawed at the mattress frantically, letting out sad whines as he tried to get closer to his human again.
"He’s crying..." Robert realized. "I made him sad. M’sorry, Beef.”
"He's fine, kid. He's just worried about you." Chase slid one arm beneath Robert’s knees, using the other to brace against the brunette’s back as he lifted him up into the air.
The movement triggered another violent round of loud, wet coughs. Robert cried out, burying his face in Chase’s shoulder.
Robert tried to focus on the man holding him, but his vision kept swimming in and out. “S-sorry.”
“For spraying me down with all your gross germs?” Chase teased. “Yeah. I bet you are. Now hold on tight, I’m taking your ass to the hospital.”
Robert whined. He was tired of going to hospitals. Hospitals were expensive. And even though he had insurance now, Robert didn’t need to go to the doctor’s office to know he wasn’t feeling good. He wanted to tell Chase he was fine. That he just needed to sleep it off.
He sniffled, mashing his cheek against Chase’s chest. “I don’t wanna-”
“I know,” Chase said. “But this isn’t normal. For fuck’s sake, you can barely even keep your eyes open.”
Robert shook his head, but even he had to admit that Chase was right.
His lip trembled. He hated that he wanted Chad to tuck him in. Hated that he wanted Herm to tell him everything was going to be okay. Hated how badly he just wanted someone to comfort him.
It was pathetic.
Robert sniffled again, desperately wishing for the room to stop spinning so he could focus on something other than how lost he felt right now.
“Chase?” he murmured, suddenly scared.
“I’ve got you,” Chase reassured him. “I’m not going anywhere. Just stay with me, okay?”
And Robert tried. He really did. But his eyes slipped shut the moment Chase lifted them both into the air, his breath finally evening out to a steady pace.
—————————
For someone who spent so much of his life in hospitals, Robert hated sitting in the ER. The cheap, bright lights stabbed at his brain like a bloodythirsty executioner. Every sound—every squeak of nonslip rubber soles against scuffed tile, every scribble of a pen, every murmur that passed between the nurses—made him want to scream.
It all just felt like so much.
He tried to pull himself up using the armrests of the wheelchair Chase set him down in, but his muscles refused to listen.
"Sit still," Chase muttered, keeping his hand firm on Robert’s shoulder to stop him from sliding out of the chair. "They’ll be calling you any minute now."
"M'not a baby," Robert wheezed. "I wanna go home."
He hated how small he felt. He hated how embarrassed he felt about being wrapped up in his little fleece blanket. The one with cartoon planets and stars plastered all over it. Most of all, he hated how hard it was to tell if his mind was fuzzy from being sick, or from being Little. Honestly, it was probably a twisted combination of the two. His mind just wanted to run away from it all. To hide away from the sickness by slipping into that soft, fluffy headspace. And the adult part of him was absolutely furious at the betrayal of his own constitution.
"Robert?" a nurse called, appearing from the hallway with a clipboard in hand. “Follow me.”
The smell of antiseptic burned his nose, but it was the cold hospital air that really did him in as they wheeled him into a small curtained room. He tried to breathe through his mouth, seizing up when the air caught in his throat like a paper towel stuck in a sink drain.
He doubled over in his seat as a relentless fit of heavy coughs shook through his entire body.
"Easy now," Chase said, rubbing circles into his back. “Breathe through it.”
By the time the coughs died down, he was left gasping for every breath.
"I hate it here," Robert managed to wheeze out in between shallow, shaky breaths. "I want to be big again."
"I know," Chase sighed, smoothing back the boy’s sweat-slicked hair.
Robert flinched when the nurse reached forward to check his vitals. "Don't touch me!”
He sat up taller, puffing out his chest in order to look more intimidating. The illusion was ruined by the humiliating shivers racking his thin frame, along with his red, wet face. He just looked so… small and breakable. A pitiful little thing.
Chase sighed, stepping closer and letting Robert grab onto his hand. Robert squeezed so hard it must have hurt, but Chase’s expression never wavered.
“She’s trying to help you,” the speedster explained. “It won’t take long.”
"I don’t need help,” Robert stressed. “I’ve been... I’ve been shot before! This is nothing! What I need is… is…"
His voice trailed off, eyebrows knitting themselves together. Honestly, he didn’t know what he needed. But he did know he didn’t want to stay here.
The nurse, a seasoned professional who had clearly dealt with combative, feverish patients before, reached for the blood pressure cuff. Robert jerked his arm away again, nearly toppling the wheelchair.
"No! No needles, no 'mometer, no!" he slurred. "I want- I want my..."
He choked on the word 'Papi,' his face flushing a deep, embarrassed crimson even through the fever. He turned at Chase with sad, watery eyes, desperately hoping he understood what Robert wanted to say.
Chase hesitated. His frown deepened as he reached for his phone.
"Fine," Chase grunted, scrolling through his contacts. "But if I do this, you have to sit still and let her do her job. No more fighting. Deal?"
Robert sniffled, nodding eagerly as he pulled his little blanket tighter around his body.
The phone rang twice before a deep, harried voice picked up.
"Is he okay? What’s going on? Why the hell is-"
"Shut up, bitch," Chase snapped. "I'm at the ER with Robert. He's sick as a dog. Dropped down to Littlespace. He keeps shaking and throwing up, and he won't let the nurse touch him."
Chad clicked his teeth dangerously. "The ER? What happened? Is he—"
"He's fine. Or he will be if he lets them help him," Chase said.
Robert wilted at that. Chase sounded so exhausted.
"If you let anything happen to him, I will fly all the way over there and put you in the grave myself! Do you hear me? I will personally—"
“Like I said earlier,” Chase hissed, thumbing the speakerphone button with a glare. "He’s. Fine. Just... tell him to be good so we can get out of here. I'm putting you on speaker."
Chase held the phone out toward Robert, and the murderous edge instantly vanished from Chad’s voice.
"Robert? Are you there?"
"Papi?" Robert reached for the phone, his hand shaking. “I don’ feel good. Feel yucky.”
"I know you don't feel good, Nafasam. I'm sorry you're hurting right now." Robert could hear the genuine ache in his voice before it hardened into something more stern. "But I’m also not happy that you’re being a handful for Chase and the nurse. All that pouting and pulling away? That’s not what brave boys do."
Robert let out a small, embarrassed whine, shrinking back into his blanket. "The 'mometer is cold. And she’s gonna put a needle in my arm. I know it. And-"
"Robert. Listen to me," Chad cut in. "You are going to sit up straight, take a deep breath, and let that nurse do her job. If you keep fussing, you’re just going to stay there longer. Do you want to stay in the hospital all night, or do you want to get better so you can come home with us?"
"Home," Robert whispered, tears clumping together on his eyelashes.
"Then be a big boy and listen to Chase for me," Chad commanded. "Chase, is he sitting still?"
Chase looked at Robert, whose spine had gone stick-straight. He wiped his face on his arm, terrified of disappointing his Papi even from hundreds of miles away.
"Yeah," Chase answered begrudgingly. "He’s behaving. For now."
As much as he hated the guy, he had to admit Chad really did have a way with kids. With Robert. And Chase had to respect that.
"Good," Chad said, his voice shifting into something more playful and encouraging. "Alright, Eshgham! I’m going to count how many seconds it takes for the nurse to check your blood pressure. If you can stay still the whole time, I might just have to give up the title of ‘toughest hero in the house.’"
Robert laughed weakly at that. "You are not the toughest."
"Oh yeah? Then prove it! Come on. Arm out. Let's go."
Robert swallowed hard, his heart hammering against his chest like a drum. He squeezed Chase's hand again as he slowly extended his arm toward the nurse.
She worked quickly, sliding the cuff on and clicking the thermometer. Robert’s breath caught in his throat when she moved to prepare an alcohol wipe. His eyes darted to the tray of supplies.
"Tell me all the names of the planets," Chad prompted, sensing the tension through the phone.
Robert blinked rapidly, his voice coming out tired and tiny compared to before. “M… Mars. Mercury… um… Jupiter… Saturn…”
He paused when the cold wipe swiped against his inner arm.
“Good, good!” Chad praised. “Keep going!”
Robert’s gaze flicked over to the nurse, but he kept talking. Anything to steady his racing nerves.
“Venus… Earth… Neptune… Uranus…”
“Almost done!” Chad’s voice was warm, teasing in that way that always made Robert try a little harder.
“PLUTO!” Robert squeaked as the nurse slid the IV needle in.
He whined as she taped the needle in place, but stayed still long enough for her to do what she needed to do.
She smiled as she tapped something into the monitors. “Good job, sweetheart! You did so well!”
A small part of him preened under the weight of the praise, but he clamped his mouth shut and narrowed his red eyes at her, summoning his best adult glare.
“You don’t need to talk to me like that,” Robert huffed. "I’m not a kid.”
“But would it be so bad if you were?” Chase asked. “You’ve worked so damn hard every day of your life. Did everything everyone asked of you. Be nicer to yourself, you little shit.”
Robert looked away, embarrassed by how easily Chase could see through him.
The nurse finished hanging a bag of saline, giving Robert a final, sympathetic pat on the knee before sliding the curtain shut to give them some privacy.
"You still there, bitch?" Chase asked, holding the phone closer to Robert’s face.
"Who the fuck are you calling bitch, bitch?” Chad’s voice came through. "And yes. I’m still here."
Robert let out a shaky breath, his fingers kneading into the soft fleece of his space blanket. "Papi? When are you coming back?"
"First flight out tomorrow morning," Chad promised. "Herm and Farah are already looking for tickets right now."
"Okay," Robert whispered.
Chase tucked the phone into the crook of Robert’s neck so he wouldn’t have to hold it, then pulled a chair up to the side of the bed. He wasn't exactly the "words of affirmation" type, so he left the gushy shit to the Caregiver on the other end of the line while he carded his fingers through Robert’s hair, massaging at the roots.
"Love you," Robert mumbled.
"Love you too, kid," Chase replied softly.