AN: I'm typing this on my phone so I apologize for any mistakes. My boyfriend is named Jessey with a y, so if I ever write Jesse's name like that, it's because I'm used to it.

Warnings: descriptions of vomit and illness.

Summary: Nothing is worse than having a sick kid except for having a sick kid and an even sicker husband. Nothing will ever come easy for Beca.

Beca wasn't sure what the best part of being a parent was, but she knew it wasn't washing vomit out of her hair. As she was bent over the tub, running her hair under the faucet, her husband was crouched by the toilet, an ill Claire on his knee as she leant over the bowl.

"Daddy," she cried.

Jesse rubbed her back. "I know, I know."

"Am I done?" Claire asked him.

Jesse laughed. "That's not a question I can answer. Do you feel better?"

Claire nodded. Jesse reached up and flushed the toilet. He pulled Claire into his arms and kissed the top of her head. "I'm sorry, princess. I wish I could make it all better." Claire began to cry again so he kept rubbing her back.

Beca dried her hair and watched the two with a smile on her face. At first she was a bit hesitant with the whole kid thing, but Jesse really wanted to be a dad so she agreed to try and get pregnant. Every time she sees him with their daughter, she's glad she went through with it. Besides, the moment her baby was born she knew her life had changed for the better. She loved being a mom.

Just not the vomit part.

Jesse shushed Claire gently and the three-year-old fell asleep in his arms. He slowly stood up and looked at his wife. "I'll take her to the couch. It'll be easier if she wakes up and has to puke again. Maybe we can avoid more messes. You work tomorrow, I don't. You should get some rest. I know your manager hates it when you're late to the studio."

"Jesse, I don't mind-"

"I know you don't, so I'll mind for you. If it was me that had work in the morning, I would be the one sleeping tonight."

Beca sighed, knowing this was an argument she couldn't be bothered to even attempt with. She nodded and kissed her husband and kissed Claire on top of her head. "I love you," she whispered. She kissed Jesse again before heading to bed.

Beca could think of a hundred things she would rather wake up to than the sound of vomiting. It's horrible to listen to period. She wasn't like Jesse, she couldn't look down at a pile of vomit and wipe it up without so much as a cringe. No, she had to hold her breath and try not to get sick herself. She was such a girl when it came to puke.

She slowly got out of bed and headed into the hallway. She stopped at the bathroom door. "Jess?" She didn't receive a reply, so she cracked the door open. "Jesse?" Beca opened the door more and stood by the sink. Jesse was crouched in front of the toilet, breathing heavily. "Oh."

Her husband let out another stream of vomit. "Jesus," he muttered.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "Where's Claire?"

Jesse spat into the toilet. "She's asleep on the couch," he answered in a strained voice, not looking at her. "At least I hope; I probably woke her up."

"If you did, we would be hearing all about it," Beca pointed out. "She sleeps like a rock, especially when she's sick."

Still looking into the bowl, Jesse blindly reached for the toilet paper. He tore off a bit and wiped his mouth with it and threw it into the water. Spitting again, he reached up and pulled the flusher down, closing the toilet lid. "That was. . . unpleasant."

"Yeah, so answer my first question," Beca ordered.

"Which was?"

"Are you okay?"

Jesse shrugged. "Probably catching what Claire has. That girl is like a germ bomb. Remind me to bathe in Lysol next time she catches anything. Especially if vomit is involved."

Beca smirked. "It proves that you're a caring father." Through the smile, Beca was trying to hide her worry. Jesse usually gets hit with these things hard. She could only hope that it wouldn't knock him on his ass for too long. Usually, whenever he caught something from Claire, it was a couple of days after she was already feeling better, but it didn't look like that would be the case this time. She was wondering if she should call in tomorrow as Jesse would be in no shape to take care of Claire. . . or himself.

"You can't call in," he told her, standing up from the toilet. He walked over to the sink and turned it on and splashed water onto his face. Of course he knew what she was thinking. "You know as well as I do your boss isn't the most. . . understanding person." He dried his face with a hand towel and faced her. "We'll be okay."

"Jesse, you and I both know that's a lie."

Jesse sighed. "You need to worry about your job-"

"You two are more important."

"And we'll always be here. This job won't."

Beca sighed. How did she manage to marry someone who is just as stubborn as she is? "At least let me call someone?"

Jesse sighed. "Who would you call?"

-

"Jesse. Jesse. Jesse."

Jesse slowly opened his eyes and lifted his head off the couch so he could look at the person Beca called. He exhaled slowly. "Fat Amy."

"Hey, Becca called me. Apparently she just assumed I had nothing better to do."

"Apparently she was right. Where's Claire?"

Fat Amy's eyes widened. "I'm supposed to be looking after her, too?" Before Jesse could freak out, she laughed. "I'm just kidding. She's upstairs sleeping. I could like, totally do the whole mom thing. Except I would need at least three days off a week and maybe only from noon to like. . .six. And I would need lunch breaks."

Jesse sighed. "That's great, Amy. How is she?"

Fat Amy shrugged. "I don't know a whole lot about illnesses or whatever. I'm just here because Beca had my number ands it's only like, a forty-minute drive here."

Jesse nodded and sat up on the couch. "What time is it?"

"10:30. Do you know how early I had to get up to get here?"

"8:30?"

"8:25 actually. I need the extra five minutes to do my own thing."

Jesse wasn't sure what she meant by that, and he knew he didn't want to, so he changed the subject. "How long have you been here?"

"Like an hour or so."

Jesse nodded slowly. We was beginning to feel really nauseous. Why did he always have to catch what Claire got? He didn't care if it made him seem like a dedicated father; he would be perfectly happy showing his love for his daughter in a different way. Preferably one that doesn't involve spending an entire night dying on the bathroom floor.

"Is it going to happen?" Amy asked. "Because I don't do puke. Remember, I was on the same a capella team as Aubrey. She was like a vomit hose. You have no idea."

"That's nice, Amy." He really didn't want to hear about it. "But you're off the hook, you're just here for Claire."

"Your wife said otherwise. Said I needed to babysit both of you."

Jesse pushed himself off the couch. "Of course she did." He headed into the kitchen, his head spinning. He felt dehydrated, though and there was a bad taste in his mouth from neglecting to rinse it after vomiting numerous times last night. However, halfway there, he knew he needed to change his course. With a groan, he ran to the bathroom, not bothering to close the door before he dropped to a crouch in front of the toilet. He quickly opened the lid as he heaved and put his elbows on each side of the seat and rested his forehead in his hands as a harsh gag brought up a bit of bile. He didn't have anything in his stomach, not after last night, so nothing was coming up easy.

"There's a 7/11 just across the street, I'll get you a Powerade or something." Fat Amy was gone before Jesse could process what she said and reply. With a groan he brought up a bit more bile before flushing the toilet and laying down on the floor pathetically.

Jesse opened his eyes to someone shaking him. "It smells like something crawled into the toilet and died in here."

Jesse sighed. "Thanks for that, Amy."

Fat Amy shrugged. "I brought you some Powerade. And something else."

Beca walked into the bathroom, holding a sleeping Claire and looked down at her husband. "Comfortable?"

"The bathroom floor and I have become best friends," he answered.

"Here's your drink," Amy said putting the Powerade on the bathroom counter. "You're the only person in the entire world that prefers this over Gatorade."

Beca rolled her eyes. "And you two are the only people in the entire world who can taste a difference."

"They are definitely very different," Amy argued.

"How's Claire?" Jesse asked, slowly getting to his feet.

"Well, you know our little princess," Beca said. "Tough like her mother."

"You got that right. So what are you doing here?"

Beca shrugged. "Amy ran into me at the gas station."

"That didn't answer my question."

Beca let out a pitiful cough. "I was sent home sick," she answered.

Jesse sighed. "You didn't."

"Well I was worried! Amy said you looked really bad."

Jesse glanced at Fat Amy. "Traitor."

Fat Amy held up her hands. "It's not my fault you married a woman more intimidating than you."

Jesse ignored her comment for the sake of his manhood. "Mr. Shaw isn't suspicious at all?"

Beca looked offended. "I'm a great actress, I'll have you know. Especially for someone who doesn't watch them very often."

Fat Amy cleared her throat. "Well it looks like my service here is no longer needed. Later peeps."

"Thank you!" Beca said as Fat Amy left. She looked back at her husband. "Are you done with all of the vomiting? Because you look like you need some sleep."

Jesse nodded pitifully.

"Okay, so grab your Gatorade-"

"Powerade."

"Same difference. Drink some of it, go to our room, and go to sleep. In that exact order."

Jesse picked up the Powerade and looked at his wife who nodded as she watched him expectantly. He took off the lid and took a few small sips knowing he wouldn't be able to handle anything more than that. Beca seems satisfied, though as she adjusted Claire in her arms. Beca stepped aside so Jesse could exit the bathroom and go to bed. On his way out, he stopped and kissed his daughter on top of the head. "I love you princess. . .even though you gave me your germs."

He headed to the bedroom and collapsed on the bed, relishing the softness of it. Then again, it probably felt so comfortable because he just spent time with his best friend, the bathroom floor.

He fell asleep quickly.

The only thing he was aware of, was the feeling of something in his mouth. He didn't have time to think about it before it was removed. It was then followed by a much more comforting feeling, the feeling of hands in his hair, gently stroking it. It reminded him of how his mother used to comfort him after he crawled into his parent's bed, his body still trembling after some nightmare.

He drifted off again, dreaming about his mom.

Despite now being a mother, Beca never had very good parental instincts. She blamed it on the fact that her own mother was always too busy arguing with her husband dad to show her what maternal instincts looked like in action. Basically, she was at a loss with the whole "TLC" thing. But thanks to a very caring husband, and one or two mothering books, Beca began to learn, mostly through trial-and-error.

But illness was still a foreign concept to her.

Jesse was sporting a fever of 101 degrees and she knew that was bad, but she didn't really know what to do about it. She needed her good friend, Google right now.

Some official medical site told her that medication isn't really needed for a fever lower than 102 in adults, as a fever was just the body fighting. She was still worried as hell, though and made sure they had medication in the cabinet just in case. The website also told her fluids were important, but she wasn't sure how much he would be able to drink.

"Daddy! Daddy!"

Beca smiled. Claire knew that Jesse is the one to cry out to when sick. Mom for nightmares, and putting on Band-Aids, and when a certain favorite blanket got lost. Dad was for vomit and fevers. She knew her parents well.

Beca went up to Claire's room where her three-year-old was sitting up on her small bed, tears running down her face and splashing her favorite Hello Kitty pajama top. She knelt by the bed, frowning. "Feeling sick again?"

Claire nodded. Beca pulled her into her arms and took her into the small, upstairs bathroom. It was uncomfortable to try and comfort a vomiting Claire in such a confined space, but she knew Jesse might need the use of the downstairs one at any time.

Beca lifted the toilet lid and tried to get herself and Claire situated by the toilet. She contemplated just using a bucket, but that was not something she wanted to clean out later.

Claire stood over the toilet and began to cry. Beca rubbed her daughter's back, hoping that it would calm her down at least a little.

"Where's Daddy?" she asked with a pitiful sniff.

"He's sleeping," Beca answered.

"Why?"

Beca bit her lip. "He's not feeling very good, either." That was an understatement, but Claire definitely didn't need to know that her father was in bed with a high fever and was becoming seriously dehydrated.

"Oh." Claire coughed over the toilet for a little while before looking at Beca. "I can't throw up, Mommy."

"Uhh. . ." Beca didn't know what to say. She wished Jesse was here. "Well you've probably thrown up everything you could." Beca pulled her crying daughter in her lap, shushing her gently. "We'll wait here for a bit, okay? Then I'll get you back in bed."

Claire nodded. Beca ran her fingers through her daughter's brown hair, thankful the poor kid didn't have a fever like Jesse. The Kid's Tylenol she took earlier seemed to still be doing it's job.

"I'm not tired," Claire said suddenly.

"We'll watch a movie then, how about that?" Despite being married to a movie fanatic, Beca still wasn't a huge movie lover. However, Claire seemed to be taking after her father in that aspect and has always loved watching movies with her parents.

"Tangled?"

Beca shrugged. "Sure." She had never seen it, but she figured if it was made to keep a kid's attention, it could have hers as well. "Let's go down." She scooped her daughter up and headed downstairs where she placed Claire on the couch. She put Tangled in the DVD player, and sat down on the couch next to Claire who instantly snuggled up to her.

They were at the part where Flynn Rider was hiding from the horse when Beca heard noises coming from the bathroom. Claire looked up, too and asked, "Is Daddy throwing up?"

"Uh. . .yeah. Just-just stay here, I'll be right back." Beca got up from the couch and walked quickly to the bathroom. She opened the door, not surprised to see Jesse panting over the toilet again. He heaved loudly and his Powerade came back up again and into the toilet.

It was different than the last time she watched him throw up. Then, he still somehow managed to keep his charisma and humor, easing the tension of the situation because He knew watching someone be sick made her uncomfortable. Now, he just looked miserable, his fever causing him to sweat, and his hair stick to his damp forehead. His eyes were watering, and he looked dazed and incoherent.

When Jesse was no longer up for his usual optimistic mood, that's when Beca knew he was really sick.

She sat down on the edge of the tub and massaged her husband's shoulders with one hand and placed the other on his forehead. She watched him dry heave as his body tried to bring up stuff that it no longer had inside of it.

He continued to spit in the toilet miserably as she continued to try and comfort him. His fever was raging and she knew she should give him something now. She stood up and opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed a fever reducer. She filled up a small paper cup with water and took it over to Jesse. "You need to take these," she told him, sitting back down on the side of the tub."

Without protest (which was concerning all on it's own), Jesse put the two pills in his mouth with a shaking hand, followed by a careful swig of water. He flushed the toilet and leaned against the cabinet under the sink. "Claire?"

"Tough as nails, remember remember? We're watching Tangled on the couch. It's not. . .terrible. I mean Flint is actually super cute for an animated character."

She knew that wasn't the character's name, but Jesse could never resist the urge to correct her anytime she got the name of a character wrong. However, he didn't seem no notice or didn't have the energy to care.

She sat next to him on the floor and allowed him to rest his head on her shoulder. The simple act reminded her of their college days when they got too stressed out and took comfort in each other. She would never forget the day Benji ran all the way over to her dorm room and knocked frantically on her door. She had opened It quickly and took one look at the panting mess before her and instantly asked what happened. That was the day Jesse got a phone call from his parents who were putting too much pressure on him about how he needs to start taking his life more seriously. At the time, he was also stressing about the Treblemakers, class, and later, she learned, his future with Beca. All of this piled on caused him to have a bit of a panic attack. She ran over to his dorm and held him through the entire ordeal knowing exactly how it felt to be pressured by parents.

That night, unbeknownst to her boyfriend, she called Mr. and Mrs. Swanson and yelled at them, informing the two about what had happened. Mrs. Swanson had started crying which made Beca feel like she was the shittiest human ever, but she got an apology out of them which made it worth it. Even better, they called their son that night and they all talked through their problems.

"I feel like shit," Jesse complained, stirring Beca out of the flashback. She felt her body tense at his confession as it was unusual for him to not try and make the best of the situation.

"Mommy." Both Beca and Jesse looked up as Claire entered the bathroom. Beca hoped she just arrived and didn't see her father in his moment of weakness.

"What do you need?" Beca asked gently.

"Can I have juice?"

Beca felt excited by Claire's request. If Claire felt well enough to drink juice, it might mean she was finally on the tail-end of this thing. "Sure," she said. "Look after your dad for a second." Claire nodded and walked over to where Jesse was sitting as Beca left the room. She headed to the kitchen, hearing "I Got A Dream" from the TV. She had never seen the movie herself, but both Claire and Jesse sang the song together on numerous occasions to drive Beca crazy. She would never tell them she secretly loved it.

Beca poured Claire's Apple juice, humming along to the Tangled song. As she was putting the juice back in the fridge, She heard dry-heaving coming from the bathroom. Running with Claire's sippy cup, Beca hurried to the bathroom where Jesse was over the toilet again.

"It's okay, Daddy," little Claire said, patting her father on the back gently with her small hand. It's amazing what kids could pick up from their parents, Beca thought.

"Okay, Claire," Beca said handing her daughter her juice. "Mommy has it from here, but you did a really good job helping your dad, okay?"

Claire left the bathroom, but not before she looked up at Beca with sad eyes. "Is Daddy okay?"

Beca nodded. "He's fine," she lied. "Go and finish the movie."

Jesse pulled back from the toilet after another unsuccessful attempt at vomiting.

"Jesse, I'm seriously considering taking you to the hospital," Beca told him. "You're starting to get dehydrated."

"No, Beca, that would just be a waste of time. I'm just going to go back to bed and sleep this off."

"I'll give you until tomorrow morning, but if you're not looking better by the time my morning alarm goes off for work, I'm calling in and taking you to the hospital."

Jesse pulled himself off the bathroom floor for the umpteenth time that day. He skipped washing himself up and walked over to their bedroom. Beca considered following him, but figured he would appreciate some space. Instead, she went in the living room to finish Tangled with her daughter.

At 5:30 that evening, Beca received a very surprising request from her daughter.

"Mommy, can I have some fruit snacks?"

Beca smiled. "Absolutely!" she answered excitedly. Just yesterday, Claire was crying at the very idea of eating or drinking anything. If the girl wanted fruit snacks, she was getting them.

Beca tore open a pouch of the Scooby-Doo shaped snack and handed them to her daughter. She watched as her daughter ate in her usual order: the Mystery Machine, Velma, Shaggy, Fred, Daphne, and of courseshe saved Scooby for last. Beca threw away the wrapper and sat back down to finish Little Bear.

Beca put down the sleeping Claire and pulled up the Minnie Mouse blanket and turned on the night light. She kissed her daughter on the cheek. "I love you."

Jesse was asleep, too when Beca entered their bedroom. She carefully got into bed and snuggled beside her ill huaband. She hoped she wouldn't have to take him to the hospital as she knew there was nothing he hated more. However, at times she had to force him to actually care about his health, pulling the 'Claire needs her father card' which would get him in the car. The last time she had to pull it was when Claire had a cough which naturally, Jesse caught. It wasn't bad at first, but a walk in the rain when the car was feeling bitchy gave him pnemounia. He had spent that entire night sitting up in bed with the worst cough Beca had ever heard.

She really hoped she wouldn't have to do it again this time.

The numbers on the clock read 2:28am which dragged a groan out of Jesse. He wasn't sure why he was awake; he didn't feel nausous (not that he would be able to throw up anyway), he didn't hear Claire calling him, and Beca was sound asleep next to him. He put his head back down on his pillow to fins it drenched. Had he spilt something on it?

"God, Jessey! You're drenched!" The lamp turned on and Beca was looking at him in concern. Jesse sat up and it was then he noticed Beca was right. It wasn't water he was drenched in, though, but his own sweat.

"That's disgusting. I'm sorry, I'll change." He got out of bed and headed for the closet. He replaced his grey t-shirt with a maroon Barden one.

"This is a good thing."

Jesse looked at his girlfriend with surprise. "Uh. . . why?"

"Come here," she said, waving her hand.

He stepped forward and her hand was on his forehead in an instant. "You sweated it out. You're fever broke."

Jesse stepped back. "That's great, but did it have to happen in such a disgusting way? Couldn't I like. . . pee it out?"

"Because that's less disgusting?"

"Well I don't urinate in the bed."

"Do you feel bstter? Less pukey?"

Jesse climbed into bed. "Yeah, I guess I do. Told ya I just needed to sleep it off."

Beca scoffed and turned off the light. "Claire ate some fruit snacks. I'm glad you're both starting to get better. When I go to work, you guys can spend the day together again." She hit the light and the two settled back down to go to sleep.

"Becca?" Jesse broke the two-minute silence.

"Hmmm?"

"Why do you never catch what Claire gets?"

"Jessey, I gave birth to Claire. I was pregnant and had to deal with morning sickness, the worst muscle aches in the world, and I was peeling every half-hour. The least you can do, is catch the stomach flu."

She didn't need to say that said "stomach flu" almost took him to the hospital, and it wouldn't have been the first time. He already did his part.

And maybe, just maybe, she would go through her's again. Because really, it was worth it in the end.

For both of them.

AN: Why are there hardly any Jesse sick!fics out there? If anyone finds one besides "I might throw up on you" (which I really enjoyed) please tell me! Thank you! Or you could write one and I could beta it or something.