I'm not much of a writer, but I got this idea from GPM's instagram story yesterday. I was in a fluffy mood, I apologize in advance.

I know parts of this aren't canon-compliant.

Sharon woke up on Sunday morning and lazily reached for her phone. It was still early, so she didn't have to get dressed for Mass just yet. In the last couple of years, Mothers' Day hadn't been so lonely with Rusty living with her. Ricky sometimes made it home, and Emily rarely did. They would always talk on the phone, or, more recently, via FaceTime, but despite that and the cards and gifts they always sent in the mail, she'd had several years worth of lonely Mothers' Days before Rusty came along. Rusty didn't go to Mass that much, but he had told her the night before that he wanted to go with her. That hadn't occurred to him his first year living with her, but he'd gone with her last year, and she'd appreciated having him there with her. She idly scrolled through her phone and saw that Emily had already texted her a funny Mothers' Day gif and added thanks for handing my ass to me when I needed it and promised to call that afternoon. She was about to put it back on her nightstand and go start the coffee when a text from Rusty popped up. You awk brg gingrea le dying pls thk

Oh, crap, this wasn't good. Sharon deciphered from the jumbled text that he wanted a ginger ale and wasn't feeling well. She didn't keep soft drinks around that much, but Rusty liked ginger ale whether he was sick or not, and she bought some every now and then. She knew there were a few cold ones in the refrigerator, so she got a glass for him and went to check on him. He was buried under his covers and curled into a ball, like he couldn't get warm, and he lowered the covers from over his face when he heard her come in. "Thanks, Sharon...I don't feel good." His voice sounded muffled and painful.

"Oh, Rusty..." Sharon sat beside him as he struggled to drink the ginger ale. He took a few sips and handed the glass back to her. After placing it on his desk, she smoothed his hair back from his face and rested her hand on his forehead. "What's the matter? You feel a little warm. Is it your stomach?"

Rusty nodded miserably. "I'm freezing, and everything hurts."

"I'm sorry, honey. I'll be right back." Sharon went to the kitchen for a basin and set it on Rusty's nightstand. "Move over to this side so you can get to the bathroom more easily when you need to. There's a basin right here in case you need it."

"It's cold over there!" Rusty whined.

"I know, but it'll warm up pretty quickly. Come on." Sharon walked around Rusty's bed and gently nudged him to the other side before moving his ginger ale to the other side and tucking his covers around him again. "Where did you guys eat last night?" He had gone out to dinner with some friends from school, and with his fever and aches, she suspected food poisoning.

"Some new place in Santa Monica...My sushi tasted a bit off, but I thought it was just me. I'd never tried it before, but one of my friends talked me into it."

Sharon nodded. "You probably have a touch of food poisoning—oh, my."

Rusty covered his mouth and pushed past her to get to the bathroom. Sharon was right behind him and ran a cloth under cool tap water as he hovered over the toilet. After wringing it out, she knelt beside him and rubbed his back, gently pressing the cloth to his face as he got sick. When she thought he was finished, she got a glass of water from the kitchen so he could rinse his mouth, but he was gagging again when she got back to the bathroom. She put the glass beside the sink and pat his back as his stomach continued to contract. He was gasping for breath, and he slumped against the toilet when he finally stopped. "Sharon. I can't move."

"Come here, honey." Sharon gently pulled him away from the toilet and flushed it, then gave him the glass of water. "Rinse your mouth out." Once he'd spit back into the toilet, she wiped his mouth with the cloth. "Get back in bed once you're finished in here, and I'll be right there."

When Rusty woke up a couple of hours later, Sharon was peeking into his doorway. "Oh, sorry, honey. I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't. Misery did."

"Do you need anything? New internal organs aside?"

"No. Thanks..." Rusty had no idea what time it was, but it seemed like it was a little late for Sharon to still be in her nightgown. "Mass?"

"I didn't want to leave you alone." Sharon walked over to his bed and brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Do you feel like you're going to get sick again?"

"Not yet."

"All right. Try to get some sleep. I'll come check on you in a little while, but text me if you need me to bring you something."

"Thanks, Shar'n," Rusty mumbled into his pillow.

"You're welcome, baby. I'm sorry you feel so bad."Sharon scratched his back for a few moments and left the room.

Emily face-timed a little later, and Ricky was doing the same almost the minute Sharon hung up with Emily. "Hi, Mom, did your gift get there in time? Did—" Ricky's face clouded over in confusion when he noticed she wasn't wearing any makeup. "Mom? You okay? You look—um, tired." He didn't expect her to still be dressed for mass, but she didn't look like she'd left the condo.

Sharon rolled her eyes. She'd at least changed into leggings and a t-shirt, but her hair was messily tied up, and she hadn't touched her makeup drawer. After constantly checking on Rusty, bringing him whatever he needed when he texted her, and cleaning up when he didn't make it to the toilet when he got sick, including a highly unfortunate incident after which she'd had to change his sheets, she probably did look a little weary. "I'm fine, I just haven't gotten out today. Rusty woke up sick this morning, and I'm afraid he has food poisoning. I didn't want to leave him by himself."

"Ew, gross…Is he okay?" Ricky asked.

"I think he'll be all right, but I'm keeping an eye on him since I'm not sure what's wrong with him. He has a little fever and hasn't gotten out of bed except to go back and forth to the bathroom, so I'm a little worried. I'm going to call his doctor in the morning if he's not feeling any better."

They talked a little while longer, and Sharon got the thermometer out of the medicine cabinet and went to check on Rusty after ending the call. He didn't feel like his temperature was too high, but she'd feel better with an accurate reading. She sat on his bed and felt his forehead.

"Mom?" Rusty mumbled.

Sharon's breath caught in her throat. Did he say what she thought he said? She pulled herself out of her daze and looked down at Rusty, trying to act like her heart wasn't about to swell out of her chest. "I need to check your temperature, okay?" Rusty didn't protest as he normally would have and wordlessly opened his mouth for the thermometer. He didn't make a move to take the thermometer from her, so she held it until it emitted the final series of beeps.

"Sorry. Arms heavy. Cold," Rusty muttered.

"That's okay. You have a bit of a fever, but it's not too high." Sharon eyed the empty glasses on Rusty's nightstand. "Let me get you some gatorade." Not knowing how long this was going to last, she'd ordered groceries for delivery earlier that afternoon. "Don't drink it so fast this time," she suggested as she brought him a glass. "I think that's why you got sick again a while ago, but I'll have to take you to the ER if you can't hold down liquids."

"I'm thirsty."

"I know, honey, but you've thrown up soon after drinking something all day. You might not get sick this time if you don't drink it so quickly."

Avoiding the ER and not throwing up again was incentive enough for Rusty, so he obeyed. Sharon took the glass from him and ran her fingers through his hair. "How are you feeling?"

"Stomach's better, but I'm still cold. And everything's heavy and hurts."

Sharon lifted his comforter and saw that the extra blankets she'd brought him earlier were bunched at the end of the bed. She pulled them up and straightened the rest of his bedding over him. "Feel better, darling."

The next morning, Rusty reached for his phone and started to text Sharon to bring him something to drink when he woke up, but it was after 9:00. He knew she'd already left for work. He was still miserably tired and achy, but he hadn't gotten sick in over twelve hours, so the worst part seemed to be over. He dragged himself out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen and about jumped out of his skin when he saw Sharon sitting on the couch with her computer in her lap. She looked up when she heard him come in. "Are you feeling better? What do you need? You could've texted me."

"Yeah, but I'm still tired and hurt…Thought you were gone."

"Come sit. I'll get some gatorade for you." Sharon got a blanket and draped it over Rusty once he was settled on the couch and got him something to drink. "I think your fever's gone," she noted as she held the back of her hand to his forehead.

"I think I'm okay now. I'm sorry, you didn't need to stay home."

"It's all right. I was worried about you last night. I wanted to make sure you were okay." Sharon pushed her computer over and sat beside Rusty. Paperwork could wait.

"Thanks for taking care of me…Mom." Sharon's heart fluttered just as it had the night before when he called her "Mom."

"You're welcome, honey. I like hearing you call me 'Mom.' I couldn't ask for a better Mothers' Day gift."

"Oh, I do have a real gift for you, though." Rusty got up and went back to his room and dug through his closet. The condo didn't have much to offer as far as hiding places go. "I felt kind of lame for getting you a plant," he said as he came back into the living room, "but this pot looked like something you would like, and the flowers smell really good. I thought you'd like it."

"Oh, thank you, sweetheart." Sharon took the plant from him and smelled the flowers. "They do smell good. I love it. Thank you." She gave it a little water before putting it on the patio.

Rusty lay down against her legs when she sat back down on the couch. "Yesterday had to be the worst Mothers' Day you've ever had. I was like a toddler, but that shit was brutal."

"I know it was." Sharon ruffled his hair and flipped through the channels on the TV. "But I think Ricky wins the 'worst Mothers' Day ever' award. When he was nineteen, he and some of his high school friends had just finished their freshman year of college, and they were supposed to be going to a friend's house. They went out downtown with fake IDs, acted stupid, and ended up getting arrested. I had to go fish him out of the drunk tank the morning of Mothers' Day."

Rusty's eyes widened. "How have I never heard this? I bet you were pissed."

"Pissed doesn't even begin to cover it. We barely spoke that day."

"Oh, my god…I think you're right. Ricky wins that one. Happy Mothers' Day, Mom...A day late."