Disclaimer: I don't own X Men Evolution

Black spots danced in his vision. The pounding in his head increased tenfold, and his stomach jumped up in revolt at the mere act of standing. The sweltering heat that was bothering him just a moment prior had transformed into a cold sweat. The ground swayed back and forth beneath his feet, and when he looked down at his hands, he found them to be shaking and clammy. To be brief, he felt like shit.

But he couldn't let something like this stop him, even if he really wanted to. He had responsibilities, friends to care for. He wasn't the only sick person here, and he couldn't let everyone else suffer just because he wanted (needed) a bit of rest.

He took a brief glance at the living room, relieved that everyone had stayed put during his little distraction. The living room, while not ideal, was a convenient place to keep everyone. The television was playing a marathon of older cartoons; nothing in depth enough to force complete attention, but it was pleasant background noise and the violence kept the bloodlust of some of their more troublesome patients sated.

Pietro was probably the worst in terms of behavior. He was a rich brat, through and through, whining about every little ache and pain in a vain attempt to gain sympathy. It just ended up being annoying, but Lance knew that if he got too rowdy, Wanda would shut him up, headache or no. It was odd that she was even down here with everyone else in the first place, but Lance supposed that even the antisocial like her get lonely from time to time. Plus Pietro's fever made him a good source of body heat, which helped her through her chills. Despite their near daily quarrels, neither seemed to mind being wrapped up together on the couch.

Fred was in the comfy chair, feeling his nausea come and go. He was on the mend, but until he could prove that he wouldn't throw up, Lance wasn't taking any chances on giving him anything thicker than chicken broth-

"!" Lance nearly jumped when he felt a hand tug at his shirt. The feeling of thin, weirdly dry fingers made him sigh in remembrance. Todd was certainly weird when he was sick, more so than usual. He was quiet and clingy, following Lance around despite both of them knowing that he should be resting. His fever was much higher than everyone else's, and his eyes were glassy and dead-looking. He was probably hallucinating somewhat. But the stubborn toad boy refused to hang with the others; as long as Lance was moving about, so was he.

That probably should've been taken as a hint to rest, but Lance was also he tried not to react to the eyes burning holes into his back as he walked into the kitchen. He was preparing soup for lunch, given that was the only thing most of them could hold down. The smell alone made Lance grimace. He had to fight his nausea to finish pouring four bowls for his team, leaving the fifth bowl empty. He handed one of the bowls to Todd, who stared at it with vague disinterest before tilting it back and gulping it all down in one go. Lance's stomach did yet another queasy flip. He put the other three bowls on a serving tray he'd found in the back of a cupboard. Careful as he could battling off and on dizzy spells, Lance walked into the living room, and set the tray on the battered wooden coffee table. Knowing that no one would be willing to reach that far, Lance handed out the bowls to his weary comrades.

"Soup's ready." He mumbled, ignoring Pietro's groan of complaint and Fred's own shudder of nausea in favor of grabbing meds from the first aid kit he'd left by the couch. The kit was one of the few things they kept constantly in stock, so there was plenty of medicine to go around for all their symptoms. Some anti-headache pills for Wanda, anti-nausea meds for Fred, and fever reducers for everyone in general. Lance passed out pill packets, leaving one of everything for himself. He fidgeted with the packaging for about a minute, preparing to swallow the pills dry. Then Lance felt something cool touch his arm. He turned around to see Todd holding a glass of water, pushing for him to take it.

"Thanks" Lance rasped lightly, grabbing the water in shaky fingers before drinking it in small sips. The coolness of the drink was a godsend as the meds flushed down his throat.

"Why are you taking so many pills anyway?" Pietro asked, holding his bowl in his lap as Wanda cuddled at his side.

"Preventative measures." Lance quickly lied.

Pietro rolled his eyes at the response. "Right, as if you're not just as sick as the rest of us."

"You really should take a break Lance." Fred interjected. "You've been on your feet all day taking care of us. Aren't you tired?"

"I'm fine," Lance was most definitely not fine. In fact, given that the world was spinning faster and faster around him, he was probably only getting worse. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to dispel his swirling vision. "Besides, I'm the leader! I'm not gonna…take a break just cause of some…some dumb…dumb cold."

THUMP

The others didn't initially react when Lance suddenly collapsed. Any panic that might've stirred from such an event was vanquished immediately upon seeing Todd catch their leader in his arms with a strange level of accurate timing. They looked up at the toad boy in question, and he just stared at them with his vacant, feverish gaze. The silence was broken when Pietro started laughing.

"What kind of sleep drug did you give him?" Todd squinted at the box of medicine in his hands for a moment, trying to decipher the tiny text. A moment later, he gave up on the futile action and simply picked up the box, throwing it in Pietro's general direction. Unfortunately, the speedster's hand-eye coordination wasn't the best right now, and it ended up hitting him in the face. "Ow, hey!"

"Extra-strength, hmm." Wanda mumbled, having much more success in reading the small lettering. "Sounds like he'll be out for at least 12 hours."

"That's good." Fred smiled, putting his bowl on the coffee table before sitting back into his chair. "He needs the rest."

"Yeah! If that idiot thinks he can take the title of leader from me, he's gonna have to pry it from my cold-Ah! Todd!"

Pietro squeaked in complaint as Todd flopped himself and Lance onto the couch next to the twins. It was a tight fit, but they made it work. The toad grabbed a spare blanket from the floor, wrapping himself and their leader together in a bundle of warmth. Todd closed his eyes, a little smile appearing on his face as he finally drifted off to sleep.