*January 1994*
Duncan smiled and shook Richie's shoulder.
"Ugh." Richie groaned but continued sleeping.
"Hey, Rich, wake up."
"Ugh." He insisted turning his face into his pillow.
"Get up." Duncan shook his shoulder again. Slowly Richie pried open one eye and glared up at Duncan indignantly.
"Can I help you?"
"I though you were going to help me unpack all those boxes today."
"Ugh." He rolled onto his back and slowly sat up mumbling.
"What?" Duncan asked.
Richie rubbed at his eyes and yawned. "I said, give me three minutes."
"Do you feel okay? You sound a little congested."
"I sound a little whated?" Richie asked stretching.
"Congested. . . it means your nose is stuffy."
Richie rolled his eyes, "I know what it means, I just didn't hear you."
"Are you sick?"
"I'm fine."
"You don't sound fine." Duncan reached out to feel Richie's forehead. "Do you have a fever?" Richie dodged Duncan's touch a few times before he finally got his hand on his face. "You feel warm."
"I feel fine," Richie insisted.
"Stay put." Duncan left the room and returned moments later to find Richie once again asleep.
"Richie?"
"Ugh."
"Open up." Richie opened his eyes and looked at the thermometer in Duncan's hand.
"You're kidding, right?"
"Nope."
"Aw, Mac com- - -" He was cut off as Duncan put the thermometer in his mouth.
"No talking, unless you're willing to do this the other way." He said. Snorting in annoyance, Richie raised his hand in an obscene gesture to Duncan. "Hey watch your language, or I won't give to a choice on how we take your temperature."
Tessa came in carrying a tray with toast and orange juice. "How are you doing?" she asked. Richie flushed and groaned pulling the blankets over his head. "Taking the mature approach I see." She laughed. The thermometer beeped from under the blankets and Richie's hand came out holding it in the air.
"Happy now?" his muffled voice demanded.
"Yes," Duncan answered. "102.7" he read. "You're sick." He pulled the covers off Richie's face.
"Am not." He insisted squinting through the hair that had fallen into his eyes.
"Fine, if you're not sick, eat." Tessa thrust the toast at him.
"I will." He took a bite hoping to appease Tessa's maternal instincts enough for them to leave him alone.
"All of it." She ordered turning to leave
"I will."
"We'll be back in a couple minutes to check on you." Duncan said following her out.
"Can't wait." Richie drawled staring down at the unwanted toast in his hands. He could already feel his stomach turning from what little he had eaten. "No mas," he whined to himself suddenly remembering his high school Spanish. "No me gusta me." He continued dropping the toast on his bedside table. "Como se dice 'Kill me now' en espanol?" he wondered to himself turning over and trying to go back to sleep.
. . . . . .
Tessa quietly opened the door and looked into Richie's room. Finding the bed empty she walked in. A muffled coughing noise alerted her to the bathroom. She pushed the door open and found Richie in front of the toilet wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Richie?"
He looked up at her in disgust. "I hate you," he informed her. "You and your lousy toast."
She put her hands on her hips. "You said you weren't sick."
"And you believed me?" he quipped before vomiting again.
Tessa filled a cup with water and handed it to him. "Rinse," she instructed. "Rylan and I are going out for the day, Duncan is going to stay and look after you."
"Ugh." Richie replied from the floor. "It won't be very entertaining for him. I don't plan on doing much of anything."
"Well that's good because he doesn't plan on letting you do much of anything."
"Letting me?" Richie repeated. "I know how to be sick thank you very much, and I don't need any immortal throwing his two cents in."
Tessa smiled. "Do you need anything before I go?"
"Nah, I think I'll just sit here for awhile in case anymore of last night's dinner decides to visit."
. . . . . .
*1998*
Duncan looked down at Richie asleep on his bed, his hair still wet from his shower. He reached down and lightly shook his shoulder.
"Hey, Rich, wake up."
"Ugh." Richie slowly opened his eyes and looked up at Duncan. "What do you want?" he mumbled sleepily.
"Dinner's ready."
"Oh." Richie swung his legs over the side of his bed and sat up.
"Go ahead and take a minute to wake up. Rylan's still setting the table." Duncan turned and walked out of the room closing the door behind him.
Richie stared after him, unable to say what he wanted to. He wanted apologize for acting like such a baby and blowing up at Duncan. He wanted to take back the words he almost said. He didn't know if Duncan really knew what he was about to say before Tessa stopped him, but he still felt bad for almost voicing them. As far as he could readily tell he meant them, Duncan wasn't his father. But deep down he knew that Duncan tried, even if he wasn't very good at it. Duncan felt more like a big brother, a big brother that was trying to fill a void left by Richie's father. A big brother that knew a lot more than Richie gave him credit for.
Richie wondered down the stairs and into the kitchen just as Rylan was setting the last dish on the table.
"Mornin', Sunshine," she smiled at him. "Make yourself useful and get the drinks, would 'ya?"
"Oui mon capitan," he answered with a solute. "Smells great," he commented filling glasses with ice.
"Thank you," Tessa said with a slight bow. "I made my famous- - -"
"Call to the Italian place down the street?" Rylan interrupted.
"Don't make me come over there." Tessa shook a wooden spoon at her.
"Oh, I'm scared now. What are you going to do, spank me?"
"I just might if you don't watch it." Tessa smiled wickedly.
Rylan returned the look. "You'll have to catch me first."
"Richie will help you, won't you?"
"Gladly." He dropped into a chair and slung Rylan over his knee. "You ready?"
"Agh! Let go of me!" she squealed as Tessa approached her with the spoon.
"I'll teach you to make fun of my cooking." Tessa growled in French.
"No! I swear I won't!" Rylan promised fighting against Richie's grip.
"You promise?"
"Yes! Let me go!"
"Fine, Richie let her up."
"That's no fun." He patted her on the butt before letting go of her.
"You better watch it, I know where you sleep," she threatened.
"I'll be sure to lock my door tonight. Where's Mac?" Richie asked, suddenly realizing he wasn't there.
"Right here." Duncan said from the doorway. "I didn't want to interfere with any disciplining that might be going on."
"Now who's pouting?" Tessa murmured to him as she passed.
"I would have thought you would have wanted to at least help." Richie added dryly.
"You're lucky Connor likes you so much," Duncan told him "Otherwise he might not let you get away with little comments like that."
"Connor? What does he have to do with anything?"
"I thought you said you listened."
"So sue me, Mac, I'm a little lost. What does Connor have to with this?"
Duncan smiled and shook Richie's shoulder.
"Ugh." Richie groaned but continued sleeping.
"Hey, Rich, wake up."
"Ugh." He insisted turning his face into his pillow.
"Get up." Duncan shook his shoulder again. Slowly Richie pried open one eye and glared up at Duncan indignantly.
"Can I help you?"
"I though you were going to help me unpack all those boxes today."
"Ugh." He rolled onto his back and slowly sat up mumbling.
"What?" Duncan asked.
Richie rubbed at his eyes and yawned. "I said, give me three minutes."
"Do you feel okay? You sound a little congested."
"I sound a little whated?" Richie asked stretching.
"Congested. . . it means your nose is stuffy."
Richie rolled his eyes, "I know what it means, I just didn't hear you."
"Are you sick?"
"I'm fine."
"You don't sound fine." Duncan reached out to feel Richie's forehead. "Do you have a fever?" Richie dodged Duncan's touch a few times before he finally got his hand on his face. "You feel warm."
"I feel fine," Richie insisted.
"Stay put." Duncan left the room and returned moments later to find Richie once again asleep.
"Richie?"
"Ugh."
"Open up." Richie opened his eyes and looked at the thermometer in Duncan's hand.
"You're kidding, right?"
"Nope."
"Aw, Mac com- - -" He was cut off as Duncan put the thermometer in his mouth.
"No talking, unless you're willing to do this the other way." He said. Snorting in annoyance, Richie raised his hand in an obscene gesture to Duncan. "Hey watch your language, or I won't give to a choice on how we take your temperature."
Tessa came in carrying a tray with toast and orange juice. "How are you doing?" she asked. Richie flushed and groaned pulling the blankets over his head. "Taking the mature approach I see." She laughed. The thermometer beeped from under the blankets and Richie's hand came out holding it in the air.
"Happy now?" his muffled voice demanded.
"Yes," Duncan answered. "102.7" he read. "You're sick." He pulled the covers off Richie's face.
"Am not." He insisted squinting through the hair that had fallen into his eyes.
"Fine, if you're not sick, eat." Tessa thrust the toast at him.
"I will." He took a bite hoping to appease Tessa's maternal instincts enough for them to leave him alone.
"All of it." She ordered turning to leave
"I will."
"We'll be back in a couple minutes to check on you." Duncan said following her out.
"Can't wait." Richie drawled staring down at the unwanted toast in his hands. He could already feel his stomach turning from what little he had eaten. "No mas," he whined to himself suddenly remembering his high school Spanish. "No me gusta me." He continued dropping the toast on his bedside table. "Como se dice 'Kill me now' en espanol?" he wondered to himself turning over and trying to go back to sleep.
. . . . . .
Tessa quietly opened the door and looked into Richie's room. Finding the bed empty she walked in. A muffled coughing noise alerted her to the bathroom. She pushed the door open and found Richie in front of the toilet wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Richie?"
He looked up at her in disgust. "I hate you," he informed her. "You and your lousy toast."
She put her hands on her hips. "You said you weren't sick."
"And you believed me?" he quipped before vomiting again.
Tessa filled a cup with water and handed it to him. "Rinse," she instructed. "Rylan and I are going out for the day, Duncan is going to stay and look after you."
"Ugh." Richie replied from the floor. "It won't be very entertaining for him. I don't plan on doing much of anything."
"Well that's good because he doesn't plan on letting you do much of anything."
"Letting me?" Richie repeated. "I know how to be sick thank you very much, and I don't need any immortal throwing his two cents in."
Tessa smiled. "Do you need anything before I go?"
"Nah, I think I'll just sit here for awhile in case anymore of last night's dinner decides to visit."
. . . . . .
*1998*
Duncan looked down at Richie asleep on his bed, his hair still wet from his shower. He reached down and lightly shook his shoulder.
"Hey, Rich, wake up."
"Ugh." Richie slowly opened his eyes and looked up at Duncan. "What do you want?" he mumbled sleepily.
"Dinner's ready."
"Oh." Richie swung his legs over the side of his bed and sat up.
"Go ahead and take a minute to wake up. Rylan's still setting the table." Duncan turned and walked out of the room closing the door behind him.
Richie stared after him, unable to say what he wanted to. He wanted apologize for acting like such a baby and blowing up at Duncan. He wanted to take back the words he almost said. He didn't know if Duncan really knew what he was about to say before Tessa stopped him, but he still felt bad for almost voicing them. As far as he could readily tell he meant them, Duncan wasn't his father. But deep down he knew that Duncan tried, even if he wasn't very good at it. Duncan felt more like a big brother, a big brother that was trying to fill a void left by Richie's father. A big brother that knew a lot more than Richie gave him credit for.
Richie wondered down the stairs and into the kitchen just as Rylan was setting the last dish on the table.
"Mornin', Sunshine," she smiled at him. "Make yourself useful and get the drinks, would 'ya?"
"Oui mon capitan," he answered with a solute. "Smells great," he commented filling glasses with ice.
"Thank you," Tessa said with a slight bow. "I made my famous- - -"
"Call to the Italian place down the street?" Rylan interrupted.
"Don't make me come over there." Tessa shook a wooden spoon at her.
"Oh, I'm scared now. What are you going to do, spank me?"
"I just might if you don't watch it." Tessa smiled wickedly.
Rylan returned the look. "You'll have to catch me first."
"Richie will help you, won't you?"
"Gladly." He dropped into a chair and slung Rylan over his knee. "You ready?"
"Agh! Let go of me!" she squealed as Tessa approached her with the spoon.
"I'll teach you to make fun of my cooking." Tessa growled in French.
"No! I swear I won't!" Rylan promised fighting against Richie's grip.
"You promise?"
"Yes! Let me go!"
"Fine, Richie let her up."
"That's no fun." He patted her on the butt before letting go of her.
"You better watch it, I know where you sleep," she threatened.
"I'll be sure to lock my door tonight. Where's Mac?" Richie asked, suddenly realizing he wasn't there.
"Right here." Duncan said from the doorway. "I didn't want to interfere with any disciplining that might be going on."
"Now who's pouting?" Tessa murmured to him as she passed.
"I would have thought you would have wanted to at least help." Richie added dryly.
"You're lucky Connor likes you so much," Duncan told him "Otherwise he might not let you get away with little comments like that."
"Connor? What does he have to do with anything?"
"I thought you said you listened."
"So sue me, Mac, I'm a little lost. What does Connor have to with this?"
