A/N: Okay, so, Butterflyaura's prompt seemed so fluffy I couldn't resist, and typed this up real quick. I hope this is what she wanted-it's what came to mind and seemed to fit, and well, I am sorry if it flows oddly. I'm not very good at open-end oneshots, but I love these structured ones. If I had left this free-form, I would have lost my thought too easily.
Prompt: An illness, young!Once-ler, the Lorax
An Illness in Four Parts
01. The Refusal
A stack of request forms sat next to the Once-ler, a pile a foot high, with specifications such as color and pricier requests such as thread quality and texture. He was selling these babies for a higher price than 3.95, but for once in his life they were worth something higher. Whereas one time he couldn't have given them away, he could now charge upwards of fifty-five bucks for a customized thneed, and once his family arrived…
Well, could churn these babies out even faster then. He had been working non-stop for three days straight, and already had eleven thneeds ready to sell. He was nearly done with his twelve, but even then he couldn't stop. His family would be here, soon, and he needed something to show for his efforts.
Mother would be so proud if he could showcase his invention, point out in the town and say "Everybody's wearing one."
He let the thought energize him, even as he started growing warmer, a scratch building in the back of his throat. It started to hurt as he swallowed, and really, his eyes were feeling heavy, but he had a mission.
No little sickness would keep him from it.
02. The Discovery
The Lorax hadn't seen much of the kid, not since the little outburst the town had. The kid had taken the time to gather truffula tufts like a madman for a few hours (managing to even keep his promise, not chopping a single trunk) before disappearing. Satisfied the kid could be trusted with the forest, the Lorax had gone his own way for a while.
It was a big forest after all, and somebody had to take care of it.
Still. He had to worry when he got back to the kid's part, the clearing silent.
Even the animals were nowhere to be seen…
"Yo, kid! Where the heck are you…?" The Lorax wandered towards the tent, peering in with interest around the open door.
The kid was passed out on the floor, face as pale as the dead and shivering. A few of the forest animals were huddled around him, Pipsqueak locked in a loose hold like some sort of teddy bear. The cub looked out to the Lorax and quietly cried.
The Lorax hurried inside. "Kid! Kid, speak to me!"
A weak groan was his only answer, a dozen creatures looking to him for reassurance.
"It'll be okay…"
03. Dilligence
A few of the larger barbaloots had managed to lift the Once-ler into bed, and soon the animals had joined him, loosely curled around to offer what heat and comfort they could. While he regained some color, he still shook, and the Lorax fumbled about the tent space for what kinds of cures he had for humans.
There weren't many, so he turned to the forest for answers he trusted. He dug up a few roots from a few of the larger truffula trees, taking from places he knew wouldn't harm them. He collected a few fallen fruits, and the fresh, clear mountain runoff. He made a tea with the root juice, cut the fruit into slices, and he and the animals sat the kid up to eat.
The Once-ler's gaze was unfocused, and the tea put him right back out. The Lorax turned to the thneeds, eying them a little distastefully before packing them off out of the way. No use wasting what the trees had already given up, or ruining what the idiot had gotten sick over in his haste to make.
With nothing but the quiet snores of a dozen sleeping occupants, the Lorax soon joined them.
04. Recovery
The Once-ler sat up in bed. Most of the animals had left already, with just Pipsqueak left remaining in a loose hold next to his chest. The littlest cub was fast asleep, and the Once-ler felt close to rejoining him, eyelids heavy with… whatever he'd been drinking all morning.
He let his dazed eyes go in and out of focus watching the rim of the cup, vaguely remembering there was some reason he didn't want his lips touching that, before downing it entirely.
"Thasssa… good," he finally said, weaving in and out of semi-consciousness. He was aware of a vague peanut-shape talking to him, spindly arm in the arm saying, "…now don't you go pushing yourself so hard, kid, I won't always be there to pick ya up and I don't wanna…" but to be honest he sorta tuned out after that.
He felt a elusive sense of happiness though, as well as a sense of familiarity, and reached out and scooped the peanut up. There was shouting, but the Once-ler didn't care much for the words. Just smiled and mumbled, "Love you, too," before passing out right there.
The Lorax groaned. "Drunken idiot."
He still couldn't help the grin.
05. Recognition
The Once-ler wakes up bright and early, completely alone. He swings his feet over the edge of the bed, stretches and gets dressed. His memories of the last few days are hazy, with more dream-like qualities than anything substancial. Cause really, there's no possible way the last few days had happened, and he gets up to cross a day off the calandar.
He finds three have already been marked out. He stumbles, looks around and sees the truth of the evidence: he sees more fur and feathers than he'll normally allow scattered about, the thneeds very carefully packed away, eleven and half of them completed. There's a bowl of truffula fruit on the table, plus a few crushed roots on the counter. There's fur on his bed and that one sort of creeps him out, but it's touching at the same time.
He almost wants to go find that annoying little fanatic and friends and give them some marshmallows or something, when his eyes zero in on the tea cups he knows he lets the fish sit in—it was too much work keeping them out.
Those cups are half-full of a soupy brown tea.
...He goes back to bed.
A/N: Okay, yeah, so the last part switched tense on me, but it just felt better in present.
As always, leave a prompt if you want. These are fun.