Chapter 115.
The soft padding of footsteps jolted Kayo out of her daydreams of pink wallpaper and cups of tea.
Lifting her head from where she'd had in stuck in a cupboard, Shadow's pilot was surprised to see Gordon dragging himself down the staircase, Scott on his heels.
"Couldn't wait any longer," the aquanaut wheezed, coughing into the crook of his elbow as he shuffled over to the fridge. Without bothering to grab a glass, he seized his cherished carton of pineapple juice, popped the cap, and took several massive slugs. Ignoring the stray drops running down his chin, he pivoted and offered the carton to Scott, who took it and swiftly drained the remaining contents.
"Alan wants mac and cheese," the eldest informed, helping himself to an orange and an unopened packet of hard boiled sweets before starting back up the stairs, "And Virgil wants a glass of water to go with his painkillers. Lemon wedge and no ice."
Kayo swore she nearly bit clean through her tongue as she followed Scott back up to the lounge and began dishing out drugs, drinks, and dirty looks. She'd just handed John his tea when a loud crash sounded down in the kitchen, closely followed by the sound of something shattering.
"Ah no!" came Gordon's distraught voice, "Oh, Kayo! We need paper towels!"
A 'click' sounded as Shadow's pilot set her jaw and continued her current task. Thirty more seconds was hardly likely to make a significant difference to whatever destruction the aquanaut had wrought.
"IT'S GOING UNDER THE FRIDGE!"
Maybe not.
Handing Virgil his water (and accidentally-on-purpose spilling a healthy amount down the front of his shirt in the process), Kayo's nimble feet swiftly carried her to the disaster zone.
Nimble feet that were promptly greeted by something soft, moist, and squishy as soon as they made contact with the hardwood floor of the kitchen.
Resisting the urge to gag, Kayo yanked her left foot up for an inspection, recoiling in both shock and disgust when she saw several tubes of macaroni sticking to the fabric of her sock.
"OH, WE ARE GUNNA HAVE ANTS!"
Putting her revulsion on momentary hold, Kayo edged around the corner (taking care to watch where she stepped) and took stock of the situation.
Gordon was watching miserably as Celery hoovered up the remains of what had, supposedly, once been a dish of mac and cheese. The sauce had splattered in a nice arc around his feet and had indeed managed to work its way partially under the fridge. Celery was snuffling diligently at the base of the icebox like a nozzle on a vacuum cleaner, however seemed unable to extend her tongue far enough to reach some of the pieces of pasta that had wound up right at the back.
"I was just trying to give you a hand," Gordon sniffed, staggering backwards when a high-force sneeze tore out of him, "But I had a coughing fit and dropped the plate. Alan's gonna kill me. That was the last serving we had left."
Kayo sighed and rubbed her temple. While she appreciated the kindness behind Gordon's actions, she didn't appreciate the mess she'd been left with. Cleaning under the fridge was one of the worst jobs on the chore rota, trumped only by washing the sofa cushions.
Thankfully, Gordon was good at interpreting silent cues. Grabbing Celery by her collar, he vacated the kitchen and retreated back to the safety of the lounge-come-sickbay. Ten minutes later, he was joined by Kayo and a tray of slapdash sandwiches.
"Those aren't warm," Scott observed, his tone as authoritative as if he'd just been the one to discover penicillin, "Alan needs something warm to help his throat."
"He'll have to wait until later," Kayo replied, tossing one of the remaining boxes of tissues at John and barely flinching when it ricocheted off the middle brother's head.
Blue eyes narrowed as Scott allowed his frustration to bubble to the surface, "No, now. He's not eaten since last night and has already complained that he's hungry."
"Really?" Kayo's own eyes widened in mock shock as she dumped some water into the facial steamer and plugged it in, snorting in disbelief when the container of eucalyptus oil she tossed in John's direction also fell victim to his delayed reflexes, "Tell me, how old is Alan again?"
"Twelve," Scott snarled, his puffy eyes and red nose doing little to help him from an intimidation perspective, "And why can't you just walk John's stuff over to him? It's not his fault he's too ill to get out of bed."
Kayo paused and tested the weight of one of the ice packs she'd brought up in the palm of her hand, enjoying the slightly fearful look the middle brother was shooting her, "Not my fault the only thing he can catch is a cold."
Mercifully, the ice pack was not repurposed as a weaponised projectile, but instead handed to its intended recipient in a calm and civilised manner. Getting a rise out of Scott was like alcohol to Kayo. Too much was bad for her health, but a splash here and there was certainly a good way of livening things up.
"Last time I checked, he was sixteen," Kayo reminded, jabbing a thumb at Alan, "And sixteen year olds are very capable of making and preparing their own food, even when sick."
Scott opened his mouth to reply, however was cut off by Gordon erupting into yet another violent coughing fit. Spurred on by the hacking of his older brother, Alan sat up to clear his own throat and swiftly fell victim to a tickle he couldn't reach the centre of.
Kayo winced as Gordon's coughs reached barking level, his eyes streaming as he tried desperately to get himself under control. If the volume of the aquanaut's stridor was anything to go by, then it sounded as if the infection was moving down into his chest. Shadow's pilot cringed. A case of bronchitis within the group was all she needed.
After gulping down some water and swallowing the urge continue coughing, Gordon managed to catch his breath long enough to accept the sweets Kayo was holding out for him. Cramming three into his cheeks at once, he was rewarded with a freshly lubricated throat which brought with it the promise of five to ten minutes of relative peace.
Snapping back to reality with a sneeze, Scott swiftly regained his composure before refocussing his crosshairs on Kayo, "What was that you just said about Alan?"
"That he's sixteen and quite capable of looking after himself," Kayo replied, "He's also old enough to know when to zip his howling screamer without relying on you to censor him."
Scott looked as if he'd just been bitch-slapped clean across the face, his eyes bright and feverish. It was no secret that he took his responsibility towards Alan a little too seriously sometimes, to the point where he'd actually driven the youngest clean out of the house on a couple of occasions. Kayo could still recall (with an appropriate amount of humour) one incident where Scott had denied Alan permission to go on a residential school trip. An argument had followed, and Alan had vanished thereafter, only to be discovered by Virgil five hours later curled up in Three's cockpit clutching a bin liner full of his possessions. Apparently, he'd been in the middle of 'running away', but had panicked upon realising that he'd forgotten to pack food.
"There is no way my baby is that old!" Scott rasped, "He's twelve, I say. Twelve!"
Kayo clicked her tongue and shook her head, "Sorry to rain on your parade, Scott, but the home cinema system he used on our disastrous date happens to be the same one you got him for his sixteenth birthday. He's only two years away from being able to vote and one year away from being tried as an adult. Like it or lump it."
Under normal circumstances, the panic on Scott's face would have been enough to inspire pity in Kayo. As things were, a combination of sleep deprivation and fluctuating body temperature had rendered the eldest Tracy semi-delusional, meaning that everything he said and did was officially off record.
"There's some leftover ravioli in the fridge," Kayo sighed, walking towards the stairs and slapping her thigh to encourage Celery to follow, "I'll heat a bowl up in the microwave and bring it up for him. I'm going for a soak in the bath afterwards, so you'll have to make do without me for the next couple of hours."
"Make sure you blow on it first," Scott warned, kicking his blanket off when another hot flush consumed him, "His self-preservation instincts are redundant and I don't want him complaining of a burnt tongue."
Kayo couldn't believe her ears. Healthy Scott was a smothering beast, but sick Scott's expectations were just ridiculous. In his current state, he was probably only one more sneeze away from suggesting that she pre-chew Alan's food for him.
'Not happening.'
With the air of a woman who'd suffered enough, Kayo exited stage right and disappeared back down to the kitchen, ignoring Scott's sputters of outrage when she failed to respond to his request.
"Don't forget to blow!" the eldest yelled down after her, whacking his chest a couple of times when his voice squeaked and gave up on him, "Hot food loses about forty percent of its medical properties if it's not properly blown on!"
"I'll blow you in a minute!" Kayo warned, realising a second too late that she'd fallen victim to one of Gordon's gaffes and engaged mouth before brain.
Predictably, there was no response.