Shiver
Summary: Alvin could be incredibly selfish sometimes, but when it came to his brothers, he was willing to sacrifice his image to keep them safe. And warm, in this case. Cute brotherly bonding one-shot.
Author's Note: This idea popped into my head and it was just too cute to not write down right away! Note: This is NOT in any way, shape, or form supposed to be read as an Alvon fic. I am not here to support incest shipping, especially of children. This is just brotherly bonding fluff. The boys are nine-years-old and it's the 80's cartoon universe. Please enjoy!
It wasn't his fault. Really, it wasn't.
Certainly, he could have been more prudent before plunging so heedlessly into the rarity that was snow in Los Angeles and coaxing his brothers out of the warm house with taunts regarding their likeness to chickens and mice and any other creature too craven to brave the bracing cold. He could have cautioned them about the perilously deep snow bank abutting the hedges, waiting to snag a misplaced foot. And, of course, he could have spared his incendiary behavior some margin of forethought and abstained from the snowball fight he had been itching to initiate since summer, but foreseeing consequences had never been a strength of Alvin Seville's. It wasn't his fault, though. Really, it wasn't.
Well. Maybe he shouldn't have smashed a particularly icy snowball into Simon's face when his brother was coming down with something of the cold persuasion, even if he had been well enough to retaliate promptly and viciously. The snowball fight, though brief (Dave had quickly noticed his sons were missing and was swift in dragging them out of the horrible weather, dismissing Alvin's spirited protests that he didn't mind the hail), and a fall into the aforementioned snow bank had expedited the process of coming down with. By the afternoon, the cold was fully caught.
Which, again, was totally not Alvin's fault.
The red pajama-clad Chipmunk gazed up at the lightly striated ceiling and ignored the niggling prickle of guilt in his chest. He always hated it when one of his brothers was sick. The three of them typically fell ill in terrifyingly perfect synchronization—a genetic gift that allowed them to share in the misery of sickness—but the grey thick of winter disrupted this harmony. Simon's sensitivity to the cold, coupled with his weaker immune system, lent itself to maladies that his healthier brothers usually managed to sidestep. Alvin knew this, but… it hadn't exactly been on his mind when he was standing waist-deep in snow, goading his brothers into joining him. Again, foresight was not a forte of his.
He rolled over in bed, listening for his brothers' steady breathing. The middle bed was always his, even though it would probably be easier to sneak out once he was old enough to enjoy the nightlife if he had the window bed. But the window bed was Theodore's because the youngest Chipmunk liked to find his own constellations in the star-studded skyline before dozing off and the door bed was Simon's because it was closest to the built-in bookshelf and the middle bed was Alvin's because he clandestinely liked to keep an eye on his younger brothers while they slept. Not that he would ever admit to something so disgustingly mawkish. He just slept better knowing they were both okay.
Tonight, however, slumber eluded the oldest Chipmunk. His sharp ears quickly detected the reedy wheeze in Simon's breathing, the slight lapse between inhalations that made his heart momentarily seize in alarm, the ominous crackle that escalated into a muffled cough. Alvin laid there in the dark, trying to put a rhythm to his brother's respirations and failing to do so after minutes of concentrated effort. A sluggish pulse of panic ricocheted through his body.
Okay, so maybe it was sort of his fault.
Alvin sat up and wrapped his red quilt around himself. He vacillated before deciding an agitated Simon was better than a suffocated one and launching his swaddled form off of his mattress. The Chipmunk landed with impressive agility on his brother's bed, immediately jolting Simon from a hazy sleep.
"Shh!" Alvin slapped a hand over his brother's mouth before the latter could cry out in drowsy distress. "It's just me."
Simon squinted myopically up at the blurry visage above him, then summoned a frown. "What're you doing here?"
"I'm, uh… checking on you," Alvin said vaguely.
The two brothers stared at one another for a moment, neither quite sure of what to make of the statement; Alvin shrugged off his quilt and offered it to his brother, who accepted it with a quiet word of gratitude.
"Check on me?" Simon finally repeated, drawing the quilt around his shivering frame. No matter the ailment, he was always besieged by violent chills that could not be quelled by even the thickest blankets. Alvin blamed this phenomenon on how stupidly thin his brother was and his poor circulation ("your own blood hates you?" Alvin had asked in confusion when this term was first introduced to them). And on the fact that everything Simon owned was blue. Wasn't blue a naturally cold color or something?
"Alvin?"
"Uh, yeah. You were breathing weird."
"Oh." Simon shifted in bed, hugging the warmest part of the quilt to his chest in the hopes of rapidly transferring his brother's fading body heat to his freezing core. "I'm fine now. It was probably just drainage accumulating in my lungs."
"Oh. Cool," Alvin added, not bothering to ask what drainage was (he had his ideas). "Are you feeling okay?"
"I'll live," Simon said with a wry smile. "I'm used to it."
"Right." Alvin plucked at a loose thread in the comforter, evading eye contact with his younger brother. He knew why he felt so inclined to stay by Simon's side in spite of the latter's assurances that he was fine, but resisted the urge to act upon this inclination. After all, confessing his remorse might provide Simon with leverage in their little world of brotherhood and he definitely didn't need that so close to Christmastime.
"Alvin?" The named Chipmunk glanced up hesitantly and demurred at the concern in his brother's feverish eyes. "Are you okay?"
"Duh, I'm not the sick one."
"That's not what I meant."
Alvin aimlessly scratched his ankle, trying to skirt the subject. "Well. I'm what you'd call a humble guy—"
"Hmm."
"—but I guess some might think of me as selfish," he concluded, glaring at his bemused brother. "And, uh, some might say it was kind of selfish to cover their sick brother in snow for a laugh. Even if it was pretty funny."
"And fun," Simon added. He placed a forgiving hand on his brother's knee. "If this is the Alvin version of an apology, I accept it. You just wanted us to have fun. Granted, not pointing out the snow bank wasn't exactly a shining example of your concern for others—"
"Oops," Alvin offered sheepishly.
"—but it wasn't done out of malice. And I did have fun."
"Don't go thinking this was weighing on my conscience or anything," Alvin said with a menacing headshake, earning a good-natured eye roll from Simon. "I just don't like my fans thinking I'm totally heartless."
"Well, they don't. Most of the time."
"Good." Alvin sat back on his haunches and scanned his brother's countenance for any indication of grudge or annoyance. Upon finding nothing but a dizzy sleepiness, he dove into bed alongside Simon and pulled the thinner comforter over himself. The bed's owner flashed him a quizzical glance.
"May I ask why?"
"You'll freeze to death if I don't," Alvin retorted bluntly. He tossed a pillow at him, miming a throw from their snowball fight; Simon laughed hoarsely and caught it. "I don't want to hear a word of this to anyone. Not Theodore, not Dave, not Brittany, not Jeanette, not Eleanor—"
"Alvin."
"—not Lily, not Miss Miller, not Miss Miller's dog—"
"Miss Miller's dog has a name."
"—well, I forgot it," Alvin replied, having run out of people to name.
"Don't worry. Your image is safe with me," Simon deadpanned. As much as he resented Alvin's self-serving attitude about the whole affair, he admittedly rejoiced in the additional body heat. His shivering abated; the stupor he had been staving off pounced on him with unprecedented intensity. Scarcely able to stay conscious, he mumbled "good night" to his still preening brother and fell into a deeper, more nourishing sleep.
Alvin pushed more of the blankets his brother's way in case his quilt somehow failed him in the night, but didn't abandon the bed. The arrangement was redolent of the frigid nights of his infanthood, when the bitter wind surged through the cracks in their tiny forest home and chilled them to the bone. He had definitely acted the part of the older brother back then. Maybe he could keep his brother warm one last time—didn't some girls like the protective older brother type?
The Chipmunk edged himself closer to Simon and snuggled against his side, willing his natural body heat to radiate through the layers of clothes and fur separating them. A soft sigh of content escaped the ill Chipmunk as the soothing warmth enveloped his goosebump-dimpled body. Alvin smiled inexorably.
"Night, Si," he whispered.
XXXXX
"Ow… Did you just kick me?"
It wasn't his fault. Really, it wasn't.
Author's Note: This is rushed and kind of sloppy, but I just wanted to get it all down before I lost the scene! I always saw Simon as a little more susceptible to illness than his brothers (I'm pretty sure he has more sick episodes than Alvin and Theodore… there's definitely "The Prize Isn't Right" and "Brothers of Dagarack" from the new show) and when I was his age, I was super skinny and could never stay warm when I was sick. So I had Alvin drop the whole cool guy act and help his brother. I hope you liked it! Please leave a comment and have a great day!