Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: For WuHaNoi's "Sick" challenge. Be warned; it's supposed to be cute.
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"Been having fun with markers, Ginny?" Fred asked. He and George were ten and already had somewhat of a reputation as total terrors. "Funny, I didn't think we had any of that color."
"It's not markers," seven-year-old Ginny snapped, knowing her brother was talking about the red dots that covered her body. "I don't know WHAT it is, but it itches."
"Okay… George, get me some tape, a rubber duck, and some glue, stat," Fred called. "Trust me, I know what I'm doing."
"No you don't," Ginny muttered. "If Mum finds out about this, you're dead."
Just then, George came back with the requested items. "What's with her?" he asked, noticing that his little sister seemed covered in polka dots.
"No idea," Fred replied. "Probably sick, but I have it covered."
"I'm not sick!" Ginny squawked in a tone that reminded the twins of the time they'd given firewhiskey to a lesser relative's hyperactive parrot. It had not ended well, though it was funny until the relative found out what had happened.
"Just give me your hand, okay?"
"This had better come off," Ginny snapped as the twins spread a thick layer of glue on her palm.
"It will," Fred muttered, and then even softer, "in six weeks." The rubber ducky was on her hand now, and George was using the tape to secure it until the glue dried.
"Mum's still going to kill you, even if it falls off in five minutes," Ginny insisted.
"Don't you trust us?" George asked desperately.
"Shut up, George," Fred muttered. "She wouldn't trust us no matter what we did, and neither does Mum. Let's see, where should we hide the glue and tape?"
