A/N: I hope you enjoy this. This is based on a story I wrote a couple of years ago, but I just added some things and changed the characters. IDK why, but that story and that year is so important to me. So don't diss this, please. I will get mad.

Enjoy!

Rory was fast asleep, peacefully engaging in a dream. His pain was gone, and wasn't to return.

Carole opened the door and came in to check on him. There was a tremendous growl from his stomach, instantly bringing out her mother instincts. "Wake up." She lightly shook the boy. "Rory."

He opened his eyes, slightly dizzy from the medication. "Huh?"

"Are you hungry, honey? Want to eat?"

"Eat what?" he asked, rubbing the tension from his neck.

"Well, uh," Carole put a smile on her face to cheer him up. "I can make you some-"

"I am not eating!"

"Shh, sweetie. I know you're not feeling well. Just calm down, and take deep breaths."

Rory sprung up from the bed. "I have to get out of here!" He froze a few feet away from the bed, wobbling on the balls of his feet. He was so damn woozy. He could barely move another muscle without risking a fall.

He was just escaping a minute ago. Escaping what, exactly? He suddenly forgot what his intention had been, getting up from the bed and attempting to run from the room - possibly from the house.

Rory heard, "You're not well. You should come and lie down, sweetie." It took him a moment to realize what she'd been saying to him. He then turned his head to look at her.

She already knew that he wasn't well enough to return to bed. She slowly approached him, murmuring, "Want to go back to bed?" After receiving a small nod, she lifted him from the ground and up against her, cooing quietly to soothe him. He wrapped his arms around her neck, with his head barely resting on her shoulder, his eyes closed.

Before he knew it, he had been back on the bed. He opened his eyes to a spoonful of oatmeal. He opened his mouth for her to give him the bite. He struggled to chew with his tired jaw, and gulped to swallow. He coughed and gagged, forcing some down. This time, he was given only half a spoonful, as Carole decided he would need tinier bites to avoid choking or vomiting.

She dabbed his lips and chin free of food, and offered him milk to complete the meal.

"Ah, my belly hurts," Rory moan. "Aspirin, please?"

"Sorry, babe, but I just gave you some not even thirty minutes ago." She reached over to massage his belly, earning a grunt of relief.

"Feels grand," he sigh. "Grand."

Soon his eyes just locked shut and he wouldn't be opening them anythime soon.

She snickered at his comfort. Finn was never like this when he was sick. He wouldn't interact. He wouldn't let her touch him or even go near him. He was a lump under his blanket.

Here, Rory was sensitive. Furious at first, but soon soothed. He was deprived of health, dependent of another for comfort and neccesities. He was a baby. A quite snory baby, though, still a baby.

The snoring stopped, and she looked over to see his eyes flutter open.

He murmured, "Could I get some more milk?"

"Of course, sweetie."