I have LOVED the sickfic for this show, so I decided to do one, myself. Whoever is writing the sickfic, PLEASE write more! This is my take on how the first time Rusty gets sick would go. Set sometime in the middle of the first season, where Rusty is still pissy, but he and Sharon are starting to become fond of one another.
Rust woke up one Wednesday morning when his alarm went off, and he immediately turned it off and went back to sleep. He felt horrible. His throat and chest had been hurting for a couple of days, and he had had a light cough, but he hadn't felt that bad. This morning, however, his head was heavy, and he felt achy and tired, on top of the coughing and throat pain. He wondered briefly if he should tell Sharon that he wasn't going to school, but he was too tired to get up. If she was so right about everything all the time, then she would figure it out soon enough. It's not like she would care. His own mom certainly never did, so why would Sharon care, when he wasn't even her real child? When he still lived with his biological mom, he just didn't go to school when he didn't feel like it. She was usually too strung out on drugs to notice that he wasn't at school when he should be, much less to notice that he was sick and try to take care of him.
Sharon was dressed and in the kitchen drinking coffee, when she realized she hadn't heard any signs of Rusty being awake and getting dressed. She walked down the hall to his room, and his bedroom door was still closed. She sighed in exasperation. He was the most difficult child to wake up in the mornings. "Rusty! You better be getting dressed!" She yelled while knocking on his door. She waited a few moments, and didn't hear anything. "Rusty! I'm coming in," she called, knocking on his door again. When he still didn't respond, she opened the door and entered his room. He was sound asleep. "Rusty! Get up NOW! We are going to be late," Sharon said, turning on his light and opening his curtains.
"I'm not going," Rusty muttered, pulling the covers over his head.
"Oh, yes you are," Sharon said, pulling the covers off of Rusty and pulling him into a sitting position. It was then that she noticed the heat radiating from his body. She took a closer look at him, and saw that his eyes were glassy and his cheeks were flushed. "Rusty, are you feeling all right?"
"I'm fine, Sharon. Just don't feel like going today," Rusty replied, then coughed. Sharon sat and thought for a moment, trying to figure out why Rusty hadn't told her he wasn't feeling well. He had been open with her since he began living with her, letting her know right off when he was unhappy about something. Although his sullen attitude and argumentative nature could get annoying at times, she had dealt with that with her own children, knowing that such behavior was typical of teenagers. She would much rather Rusty behave like he had been than to be shy and reserved, which would make her wonder how he felt about things and feel like she was walking on eggshells around him. This is why she was shocked that he hadn't told her he was sick.
When Rusty moved in with Sharon, she decided that it would be best to treat him like he was her own child. Regardless of how they interacted with one another, she knew it would be awhile before they were comfortable around each other, and she thought this was the best way for them both to adjust to living together. The only thing she held back on was physical contact, because Rusty just didn't seem comfortable with it. Given his abusive background, she decided to ease him into that, by offering gentle touches here and there, and would eventually build up to hugs and kisses. For now, though, she limited their contact to intermittent pats on the back or shoulder, or a brief touch to his face.
This morning, however, Sharon gave in to her motherly instincts and lay Rusty back against his pillows before holding her hand to his forehead to gauge his temperature. He turned away and buried his face in his pillow before she could get a feel for how high his temperature was. Rusty couldn't figure out what Sharon was doing at first, but then he remembered his mom doing that a long time ago, before she got into drugs and was actually a decent mother, when he was sick. He couldn't have been older than four or five years old at the time.
Sharon ignored her reservations about physical contact and grabbed Rusty's chin and turned his head to face her. She put her hand on his forehead again, then felt his cheeks. Although he had a fever, it didn't feel too high. She swept her fingers along his neck, and felt a couple of swollen glands. She wasn't very well-equipped to deal with a sick child. Did she even have a thermometer? The rare times she got sick, she could tell by how she felt whether she had a fever, so she never bothered with a thermometer. She definitely had one in the house when her children lived with her, but she had moved since then, and wouldn't have been surprised if the thermometer got thrown out while cleaning her stuff out. She rarely took over-the-counter medicine, unless she absolutely needed it, so she wasn't sure if she even had Tylenol or Advil.
"I'll be right back," Sharon said, patting Rusty's shoulder. She went into the kitchen and dug through a few cabinets, but couldn't find anything she needed. She tried her bathroom next, and found a glass thermometer and sample pack of Tylenol in the back of the bathroom closet. She went back to the kitchen for a glass of juice, and returned to Rusty's room. She sat beside him on his bed, and held up the thermometer. "Open up," she said.
"Why?" Rusty grumbled, rolling over, away from Sharon.
"You're running a fever, and I need to check your temperature," Sharon said patiently.
"If you're so sure I have a fever, then what's the point?"
"I just need to know. Now open your mouth," Sharon said, giving Rusty a stern look. She held the thermometer under his tongue, and watched the clock beside his bed until it was time to remove it. She pulled the thermometer out of his mouth, and held it up to read it. She squinted for a few moments, and realized that his temperature was just under 101. How had she ever read that thing? She put two Tylenol in his hand, and gave him his juice.
"Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?" Sharon asked softly, brushing Rusty's bangs back from his forehead. Looking back on the last couple of days, she remembered him being a little sluggish and coughing a little, and she felt guilty for not asking how he felt before now. Since he had been so open with her about everything else so far, she just assumed that he would let her know if he felt sick. Her own children complained at the first sniffle, and she thought Rusty would have been the same way.
Rusty shrugged. "My mom always ignored me when I was sick, so I just stopped telling her. It didn't do any good. If I felt too sick to go to school, I just didn't go. She never noticed."
"Rusty, you can tell me when you're not feeling well. I won't burn you at the stake. I'll even take care of you," Sharon said, smiling at him.
"Thanks, Sharon, but I can take care of myself. I've been doing it for ten years now." Rusty started coughing heavily then, and Sharon helped him sit up. She rubbed his back until it passed.
"I know you can, but you don't have to anymore. You will have to be an adult soon enough. I'm the parent, here, and I will take care of you when you're sick." Sharon bent down and kissed Rusty's temple. "I'm going to run to the office and get some things, and go to the grocery store. I'll be back in a couple of hours. Call me if you need something, or if you start feeling worse," Sharon said, looking to make sure Rusty's phone was on his nightstand.
"Sharon, you don't need to miss work. I'll be fine."
"No way, Rusty. Being sick and by yourself is no fun. I also need to monitor your temperature, in case we need to go to the doctor later today. Now, do you need anything before I leave?" Rusty shook his head, and rolled over and went to sleep.
Sharon had gotten caught up in something before leaving work, so it took her longer than she originally thought to get back home. She got home four hours later with some paperwork from her office and some groceries, including a new digital thermometer, plenty of Tylenol and Advil, soup, tea, and some cough syrup. She put the groceries away, and went to check on Rusty. She could hear him coughing from the kitchen. She went back to his room, and found him in bed, watching a movie on his computer. He had put on a sweatshirt, and was huddled under his covers. His cheeks were more flushed, and his eyes were more glazed than they had been that morning. Sharon could tell right away that his fever had gone up. She sat beside Rusty and felt his forehead. As suspected, he was burning up.
"Oh, Rusty, why didn't you call me?" Sharon asked, running her fingers through his hair.
Rusty looked at her blankly. "For what?"
Sharon tried not to roll her eyes. "You obviously feel worse. I would have come home sooner if I had known," she said. "Now, you've been coughing, but does anything else hurt?" Rusty shook his head, but Sharon didn't believe him. From the way he was squinting at her, he seemed to have a headache. He had winced that morning when he swallowed the Tylenol and juice, so she suspected that his throat was sore. She gave him one of her trademark Looks, which meant that he better cooperate with her. "Do you have a headache?" Rusty started to shake his head, but thought better of it, and nodded sheepishly. "Does your throat hurt?" He nodded again.
Sharon went to the kitchen for the new thermometer and medicine and to refill Rusty's glass of juice. She put some soup on the stove to heat up for their lunch, and went back to Rusty's room to take his temperature and give him some medicine. She gave him two Advil, then stuck the thermometer in his mouth. She pulled the thermometer out of his mouth when it beeped. "102.8. No wonder you're feeling worse," she said. She opened the cough syrup and poured some into a spoon, then fed it to Rusty. He had forgotten what it felt like to have a mother take care of him when he was sick. It felt nice, and although he knew he wouldn't likely ever be sent back to his mother, he still wasn't convinced that his arrangement with Sharon was a permanent one. He didn't want to get used to being taken care of, just to have it taken away later.
"Sharon, I appreciate everything, but you really don't have to bother with taking care of me. I'm fi—"
"You are not fine. You're sick, and I will be right here until you are well. You are not a bother. Get used to it," Sharon said, cupping his hot cheek with her hand. "I'll be right back with lunch." Rusty started to get up to follow her, but she gently pushed him back into his bed.
"I can't eat on the couch, but I can eat in my bed?" Rusty asked, confused.
"Only while you're sick," Sharon said, before turning to go. She prepared two bowls of soup and got two spoons, then went back to Rusty's room. She sat beside him as they both ate and watched the movie on his computer. Sharon had finished her bowl, and Rusty had eaten about half of his when his eyes started to droop.
"Sharon, can I finish this later? I'm really tired," Rusty said shyly.
"Of course," Sharon said, taking his bowl. She took the dishes to the kitchen, and went back to Rusty's room. He was tossing and turning under the covers, trying to get comfortable enough to go to sleep. Sharon sat beside him, and tentatively started patting his back. He seemed to relax a little, so she started patting his back more firmly, and sat with him until he was asleep. She leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Feel better, honey," she said softly, before getting up and leaving the room.
More to come…