This was a fun exercise for me, I've never read or written a sickfic before, but there was a lot of requests for it so here it is =) Couple things before you read, those of you who've read my Supernatural story know I'm a stickler for accuracy, like freakishly, I have a problem, that being said I have to tell you how important it was to me to ensure the realism of Campbell's Chicken and Stars soup being available on Earth in 1988/89- this information could not be found with mere google searches, but thankfully the Campbell's website has a "chat now" option- it came out in 1964 if anyone was curious.
Peter essentially has the flu here, thank you for all the suggestions, and the only reason I didn't go with something like the chickenpox that was suggested by a couple was because he's about 8/9 now and that puts him a little out of the average age to contract it, plus I was afraid it would kill all the Ravagers. I really hope you like what I've come up with, this was not easy, but that's because its not something I would normally find myself writing and I love that, so keep up the prompts and I'll keep trying to do them justice =)
Thank you for the reviews and I hope to hear what you think of this one!
It was just the sniffles, so Peter didn't think much of the runny nose and tickle in his throat when he woke one morning. He did feel more tired than usual and hardly ate any of his breakfast or lunch, not that that was entirely unusual for the little Terran who still hated the meal options, but when Peter begged off helping Kraglin with an intermittent thruster misfire, the First Mate was sure something was wrong.
"Y'okay, Pete?" he asked, "Y'look kinda sweaty. Y'been runnin' around?"
Peter shook his head, "M'okay, just tired."
"Well, go lay down then," Kraglin scoffed.
"Okay," the boy mumbled, barely nodding as he trudged through the corridor to his bedroom, curling under his blankets fully dressed and still shivered from the cold.
It was hard for him to find sleep, his head hurt, along with the rest of him, and it took a while for his closed eyes to find peace in the darkness. Peter's dreams were odd when he did sleep, riddled with strange scenarios, like his Grandfather walking into his bedroom on the Electron with a bowl of Campbell's chicken noodle soup, humming a Charlie William's song. Peter would've been thrilled to see him if he didn't feel like moving would cause the contents of his gut to propel upwards, but his Grandfather's visit was interrupted by the First Mate being chastised by the Captain, loudly.
"How're y'not gonna tell me about this?!"
"Capt'n I didn't know," Kraglin pled, "He just said he was tired, I told 'im t'lay down. Ain't nothin' gonna happen t'him is it?"
"I damn well don'know!" Yondu barked, "Git a logr f'r'im, 'n grab the bjorn fur from my bunk, now!"
Peter's eyes fluttered open at the large blue man as he sat on the edge of the boy's bed, unsure if he was awake, asleep or dead. Yondu's red eyes brightened as they met Peter's and he gave the boy a small smile.
"How y'doin', son?" the Captain's gruff voice was soft as he ran a blue hand over Peter's sweaty forehead.
"I don'feel good," he mumbled, curling his legs up a little until they touched the Centaurian.
"Y'don'look good," Yondu agreed with a nervous smirk, "Y'r'warmer than an overworked generator."
"M-m-m cold," Peter shivered.
"I got more blankets on the way," Yondu assured him, "Think you could drink somethin'?"
"Uh-uh," Peter shook his head slightly, but stopped because it felt like his brain was rolling around in his skull.
"What's gonna help?" the Captain asked.
"Sleep," the boy whispered and, under his blanket, he curled his arm around the blue hand resting next to him, "Stay."
With his hand trapped in the boy's embrace, Yondu sighed, scooting higher up on the bed, careful not to adjust his arm. Awkwardly reaching across himself, Yondu's other hand stroked the boy's damp hair, pushing the sticking bits from Peter's rosy skin, grimacing with concern when a ragged cough broke passed the boy's chapped lips.
Peter kept his eyes closed, unsure if he'd found sleep again, but enjoying the gentle strokes on his head as he listened to the First Mate return. He whimpered when the arm he'd latched onto twisted itself out of his grip slowly.
"I'm right here, Petey," Yondu put a hand on the boy's head, "Got'cha another blanket," Peter sighed when the heavy fur layered on him, he was almost warm, "Can y'try 'n drink some'a this f'r'me?"
The boy didn't even look at what he was being offered before shaking his head a little.
"C'mon, Pete," Yondu urged, "might help."
"I want soup," Peter whined.
"Okay," Yondu agreed, "We can get'cha some soup."
"Chicken noodle," the boy grumbled.
"What's that?" Yondu leaned down, rubbing Peter's shoulder over the blankets.
"Chicken, noodle, soup," Peter said, each word made him more exhausted.
"That'll help?" Yondu asked and the boy nodded in his pillow, "Kraglin, call Kona, she deals with things from Terra sometimes."
"Capt'n," Kraglin said, "I'll just've Matbua make him some soup-"
"That ain't what I said!" Yondu growled.
"Yes, sir," the First Mate muttered.
Peter felt Yondu's weight sink the edge of his mattress again, but couldn't lift his eyelids, his head hurt worse when he tried to focus on anything and was sure he on the verge of vomiting. He still wanted the soup though, he didn't really want to eat it, but it had always made him feel better when he was sick and his Grandfather would bring him a hot bowl with tiny noodle stars swimming around the chunks of chicken and vegetables. Thinking of the pieces of food drowning in broth made Peter's stomach turn and he forced himself into somewhat of a sitting position, squinting his eyes to the corner of the room and waving his hand frantically at the trash bin.
Yondu thankfully understood and grabbed the wastebasket just in time for the little boy to hurl the contents of this stomach into the can, tears filling his eyes as his throat burned. Peter breathed heavily as the retching stopped, finding comfort in the hand rubbing gently up and down his back, though his head ached much worse than before. He wiped his eyes and mouth, slowly laying his sweaty head back on the damp pillow, shivering despite the layers of blankets on top of him.
"Hey, Pete," Yondu's voice was subdued, "Y'wanna git some comfier clothes on?"
He did, his Ravager uniform was sticking uncomfortably and twisted tightly in a few places, but he did not want to move, unsure if he could even stand on his own at the moment.
"C'mon, boy," the Captain urged, pulling gently at the blankets and Peter nodded, sliding his legs from the warm nest they'd created, shivering from the sudden drop in temperature.
He should've thought it was strange, Yondu pulling off his boots and jacket, but Peter didn't have many thoughts at all in that moment besides wanting to shed the constricting outfit and crawl back under the warm covers. Peter managed to slide off the bed, his bare feet shocked at the cold floor and he wrapped his arms around himself as his teeth chattered. Yondu grabbed a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from the drawers and the boy forced his hands to shuck his pants, relieved as the tight material released his skin, but felt goosebumps erupt down his legs with icy pain.
Everything ached, his shirt may have well been made from lead for as hard as it was for Peter to lift, unable to bring his shoulders into full motion and nearly crying from the pain and frustration. His shirt came off, however, carefully pulled over his head and Yondu gave him a small smile, lifting the new shirt in his hands. Peter was beyond pride at the moment and pathetically raised his skinny arms at the Captain, who slipped the fresh shirt in place before handing the boy his shorts. It took Peter a few moments to stumble into them, Yondu's hand found one of his shoulders when he'd wobbled a bit, but managed to stay upright, pulling the drawstring with sore fingers.
"Okay, son," Yondu lifted the blankets and flipped Peter's pillow, all of which was more than enough invitation for Peter to try crawling onto the mattress, getting a little assistance from the Captain with a hand on his bottom pushing him gently onto the tall bed.
The cool pillow and warm blankets encouraged sleep immediately and Peter's eyes were relieved to shut on the dim room, alleviating very little of the throbbing in his head. Bizarre dreams began flooding his feverish mind, Skapraun knocking on his little window, begging Peter to let him in the Eclector, but David Hasselhoff roundhouse kicked him to the side of his spiked head before waving at the boy and zooming away into the stars, noodle stars, peppered with a few distant planets resembling peas and chunks of chicken. Peter soared passed them in the darkness, he had to only be a little ways behind David. The noodle stars were getting closer, though, enclosing him as the sky around him turned to broth, engulfing the boy with no way up or down. Drowning in the soup he'd requested, but didn't even want to eat. Peter kicked and flailed, fighting for air, for a way out of the nightmare. He was sure his lungs couldn't stand another moment without oxygen just as a flash of blue brought a strike of sharp pain across his face and Peter gasped for breath, flickering his eyes open in the soft light of his bedroom.
"Y'a'right, boy?" Yondu stood over him panting, "M'sorry if I hurt'cha, y'weren't breathin'. Y'okay, Petey?"
"I think so," Peter's voice broke, his throat was very dry, "M'thirsty."
"Here," Yondu said hurriedly, picking the glass off the nightstand next to Peter and holding it out to the boy, "C'mon sit up a little," his other hand found the boy's sweat drenched back, gently pulling him to a reclined sitting position as Peter sipped the cool liquid.
"Water?" the boy looked at the Captain with shock and deep appreciation.
"Straight from Fifi. Fiki?" Yondu looked questioningly at Peter, who shrugged with an expression more lost than the Captain's, "I f'rget what Kona called it, but it's Terran water. We ain't got a lot'a it, but she said it'd help."
"Kona?" Peter asked, sipping the water a little greedily.
"She's a, well not really a friend," Yondu sat on the edge of Peter's bed once the boy leaned against his headboard, "just someone I've worked some jobs with in the past, she specializes in procuring rare items, hell'uv'a theif. She's a Sirian 'n them folks look just like Terrans, so she makes runs there 'n some of the closed societies like it, grabbin' stuff no body up in these parts ever sees. Makes a good livin' off the novelty items."
"Thank you," Peter smiled a little, sipping the water again.
"Think y'could eat?" Yondu furrowed his brow, "Y'been sleepin' a while," Peter grimaced at him, he was a bit hungry, but the thought of choking down oblini stew made him nauseous again, Yondu smirked, "Got a few a these from her too," and held up a small can of Campbell's Chicken and Stars soup, scoffing lightly at it, "Guess those Terran folks have a real hankerin' f'r'what's up here, just ain't the brightest bunch."
Peter couldn't take his eyes off the can as tears filled them, maybe it was the slight fever remaining or the near death feeling he'd just experienced, but the boy had the urge to throw his arms around the Centaurian, only refraining because he was still very tired and couldn't find the strength to push out of his warm cocoon. The Captain seemed to see the emotions overcoming the child and shook his head.
"Don't be gettin' all sappy, boy," Yondu said, "We got a big job comin' up 'n I need y'healthy 'r y'ain't no use havin'. Y'say this'll help?" he gestured the can in his hand and Peter nodded, "Y'eat it cold 'r hot?"
"Hot," the boy said.
"Y'gonna eat it?" Yondu's tone had a small growl in it.
"Yes, sir," Peter nodded, noticing his head didn't ache as much as before.
"A'right," Yondu stood to his full height, "I'll be back."
"Thank you," Peter squeaked as the Captain left his room, stopping in the doorway at the small voice.
"Just wan'cha better, son," Yondu said quietly and shut the door on his way out.
Awe Yondu's got such a soft spot for Peter even if he tries not to...
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