Posting with a puppy fast asleep on your lap isn't the easiest job... but so worth it! Thanks again for the comments, hope you continue to enjoy.

Virgil sighed. An empty coffee cup dangled precariously from one finger, swinging back and forth as he watched Scott.

His brother had been asleep for a few hours. It was good, but so unlike Scott that Virgil was afraid to look away.

What if Scott had lapsed into unconsciousness and Virgil hadn't noticed?

What if he needed medical attention and Virgil just sat there doing nothing?

The door swished open, making him start, the mug slipping. Quick reflexes honed from years of rescues made Virgil jerk. He caught it before it hit the floor – although he wasn't sure how. Sitting up, he rubbed his side as he looked up. His father was regarding him with an amused expression.

"I take it that hurt?"

Virgil grinned sheepishly. He stood, stretching out the twinge. His dad was watching him closely, and Virgil made certain his weight was evenly distributed. While the man had heard Scott call him out on his leg, he hadn't reacted or said anything since. Virgil hoped he'd got away with it, but-

"Nice try, kiddo." His dad moved forward, ruffling Virgil's hair as he took his son's seat. "I'm assuming you've dealt with it?"

Virgil nodded, face flaming and gaze on the floor. In order to distract his father, he instead turned to Scott, who was frowning in his sleep. Virgil rested the back of his hand against Scott's forehead, then winced and fetched the thermometer. Scott whined, but didn't wake, as Virgil waited for the telltale bleep.

"Well?"

"99.2," Virgil muttered, staring at the reading. It wasn't dangerous - yet - but seeing it made his stomach churn. Scott was ill.

"What do we do?" his father asked.

A groan answered before Virgil could. He turned back as Scott's eyes opened. Scott shut them straight away, wincing, his entire body tense. Virgil looked around, then realised what had his brother reacting.

"Dad, dim the lights," he ordered, resting a reassuring hand on Scott's shoulder. Once the glare faded, he gave it a squeeze. "Try again."

To his relief, Scott did as he was told but his gaze was bleary, and pain obvious in his expression. Virgil sighed. Whatever good the sleep had done, it hadn't been enough.

"Virg…" Scott's voice was a whisper. Virgil told himself he was imagining the slight tremble.

"Yeah?"

"Head gonna explode." Scott closed his eyes, the effort of staying awake too much. Virgil nodded, checking the time. It had been long enough: Scott could have more medication and, with luck, it would bring his temperature down too. He refilled his brother's water and held out two tablets.

"Can you swallow them?"

There were other ways, but Virgil didn't want to go down that route yet, not while Scott was lucid.

Scott took both. He winced, but swallowed the pills.

"Thanks."

Virgil stared at him. He wasn't used to Scott showing signs of weakness - it made him uneasy. His fingers hovered over the thermometer, despite knowing the drugs wouldn't have taken effect. Scott shifted and grimaced, one hand sliding behind his neck, rubbing it.

"Does it ache?" Virgil asked, his worry increasing tenfold. Scott looked up, frowning.

"Not as such," he said slowly, "more like the headache is coming from there." He shrugged. "I dunno, probably talking nonsense."

He settled back, closing his eyes. Virgil opened his mouth, but his father's hand on his shoulder stopped him from speaking.

"A word outside?"

With a last glance at Scott, Virgil allowed himself to be steered out. As the door shut, his dad looked at him. His calming presence eased some of the panic Virgil was feeling.

"You went pale. What is it?"

"Possibly nothing," Virgil muttered. His fingers ghosted over his watch. Then he sighed, connecting through to his other older brother. "John?"

"Give me a chance, Virg, I've only just got the readings."

"What'd you know about meningitis?" Virgil asked, ignoring his brother's words.

He didn't look at his dad, even when he heard him suck in a sharp breath.

"Is that what you're thinking?"

Virgil quickly outlined Scott's temperature and where the pain radiated from.

"It's possible, I guess," John said, his tone thoughtful. Virgil knew he'd be drumming his fingers. "From what Brains has found, it would definitely be viral."

His father started, but Virgil shook his head. "It's alright, Dad. Out of the two, it's the better one."

"What do we do if that's the case?"

"Nothing." Virgil ran a hand through his hair and leant against the wall. "Just pain-relief and fluids. I can hook him up to a drip to make sure-"

"Easy, Virgil." His father's calm voice interrupted him. "Give it time - give Brains a chance - before you take those steps. You've given him something for the headache and temperature. There's nothing more you can do at the moment."

"But-," Virgil glanced at the infirmary doors. His father was right: until they knew what they were dealing with, controlling the symptoms was all he could do – and what he'd already done.

"Get some dinner." His dad's tone was firm this time. "You've barely eaten today. I'll stay with him, and we'll figure out tonight."

"He's not going to want to stay there," Virgil warned.

"He's not getting a choice. You, kitchen, now. John?"

"Dad?"

"Tell me if your brother moves before he's had dinner."

"F.A.B."

Virgil scowled, knowing John would do as he was told. He took his duties as a big brother as seriously as Scott did: being off the planet made no difference.

But his father was right. There was nothing more he could do for Scott at the moment. It was better that he ate. He'd need his strength when Scott realised they expected him to stay in the infirmary.

Wondering if he'd get away with drugging his brother, Virgil headed towards the kitchen. The younger two were nowhere to be seen, but the state of the room revealed they'd already eaten. Virgil was glad. He didn't want to have to face a barrage of questions about how Scott was when he wasn't actually sure.

He planned to grab something and take it to the infirmary. His grandmother's arrival put a swift stop to that plan, and it was nearly an hour before he could escape. At least his father wouldn't have cause for complaint!

Still, Virgil was almost running as he sped back. He didn't doubt his dad could look after Scott. But he didn't trust his brother, and Virgil saw through Scott's deception better than anyone.

He didn't need to worry. Scott was asleep. Virgil stayed until midnight. Then, no matter how much he argued he wasn't a child, he couldn't stop his father from sending him to bed. Virgil went – only because the light was on in Brains' lab. If Scott needed anything, their resident genius was on hand.

It was early when he woke up, though – far earlier than he was used to. The villa was quiet. Yawning, Virgil stumbled from his room, one thought on his mind: coffee. It was the only thing that would get him through these ridiculous hours that shouldn't exist.

An empty mug and a burnt tongue later, Virgil headed for the infirmary with a refill - and a spare - in his hand.

It didn't surprise him to see his father dozing in a chair. Virgil rolled his eyes. So much for his grand speech about there being no reason to stay overnight. Putting the drinks down, Virgil shook him awake. The man jolted at the first touch.

"Get out of here, Dad," Virgil murmured. "I'll wake you if anything changes."

To his relief, his dad watched Scott for a long moment, then took his mug and stood up. He looked exhausted.

"Just for an hour. Then I'll be back."

Virgil nodded. It wasn't worth arguing; it was more likely to make his dad not leave at all. He waited until the doors closed and he was certain the man was gone before picking up the thermometer.

As it gave a loud beep, Virgil stared in dismay. 100.8. Despite the rest and medication, Scott's temperature had continued to rise.

"What's tha' for?" a voice slurred. Virgil glanced up from the reading to see Scott watching him.

"Go back to sleep, big brother," Virgil whispered. "Get some more rest."

"Too late." Scott's voice was stronger, and he sat up. "I've got things to do."

Virgil gaped as Scott pushed back the covers. It didn't matter how his brother felt in himself: with a temperature like that; he wasn't going anywhere.

"What exactly are you doing?"

Scott didn't answer, but finally won his battle with the blanket and stood up. Then – to Virgil's astonishment - he started trying to undo the buttons on his top.

"Scott?" Virgil didn't care if he sounded alarmed. He had no idea what was going on anymore.

"I'm hot," Scott complained, although it came out more of a whine. He gave up struggling and pulled the fabric over his head instead. Virgil tried not to laugh at the mussed hair or scowl on his brother's face. He looked like a child.

When Scott's fingers went to his waistband, Virgil knew he had to act.

"That's enough, Scott," he said. He tried to sound calm, the way their father had when they were kids. "You're cool like that."

"No!" Scott snapped. Virgil stepped back, looked at him, and sighed. Scott's cheeks were flushed, his eyes overly bright. Virgil swore he could see the man's temperature rising as they stood there. No wonder his brother wasn't thinking straight.

Scott's hands lifted, and, for a moment, Virgil thought he was going to push him away. But then Scott grabbed Virgil's top. His fingers twisted in the material as he tugged. Virgil almost overbalanced.

"What are you doing now?"

"It's too hot, Virgil. You'll get too hot like that."

"Scott-,"

"Too hot." There was an obstinate pout on Scott's face. His hands returned to his waistband.

"Okay!" Virgil yelped. That was not a situation he wanted to deal with right now – or ever. "Okay, you're right. It's hot. I'll take mine off too."

Scott nodded and his face went ashen. Virgil knew he had to get his brother back into bed – and that he couldn't do it alone. He crossed his arms as he reached for the bottom of his t-shirt, his fingers brushing against his watch as he did. So much for his dad getting an hour's sleep.

But Scott was still watching expectantly. Virgil grimaced as he pulled his top off. It was cool in the infirmary and he shivered. But it had done the trick – Scott was no longer trying to remove the rest of his own clothing. Virgil stepped closer, taking his brother's arm.

"Why don't you lie down? You'll be cooler."

It was no surprise when he was met with resistance. It wasn't like Scott to make life easy for himself.

"Outside's cooler."

"Oh no you don't."

Being gentle no longer mattered. He grabbed his brother's arm as Scott stepped towards the door. Unable to stop himself, he looked for a rash. But even checking Scott's back revealed nothing, much to his relief.

"You're going to bed."

"Get off!"

"C'mon, Scotty, this isn't you. You're ill. It's the fever making you think you are hot. If you lie down, I can give you something to help."

Scott stopped pulling, and Virgil almost fell over when the resistance vanished. Scott was staring at him, and Virgil sighed. His brother looked awful: beads of sweat glistened across his skin and the flush had deepened. Virgil was certain if he took Scott's temperature again, it would've risen.

"Please, Scott?"

Scott wasn't pulling away, but he wasn't getting any closer to the bed, either. Virgil heard the doors open, but he didn't look around. The last thing he wanted was for Scott to notice and make another bid for freedom.

Their dad said nothing until he drew level. Virgil saw his eyes widen slightly as he took in their attire, but he ignored it. Instead, he put a firm hand on Scott's shoulder.

"Bed," he ordered.

Virgil let go, taking a step back. He couldn't tell if Scott was resisting or not as his dad pushed him onto the bed, but when a pointed cough stopped him from rising again, Virgil glanced away, hiding a grin. Fever appeared to have reverted Scott back to child-like behaviour, and their father was dealing with it as such.

Then he turned back to Virgil, his gaze once again on the discarded shirts.

"Do I want to know?"

Virgil flushed, quickly pulling his back on as Scott scowled at him. His gaze was unfocused though, and Virgil knew sleep was pulling at his brother.

"Can you get your brother's pyjamas?"

"He won't wear them." Virgil didn't know if Scott even owned any: living on a tropical island had benefits, after all.

"I'll handle that," his father retorted, "just get them, will you?"

It wasn't a request. Virgil dragged his feet as he left the infirmary, then bolted for Scott's bedroom once the door had closed behind him.

His brother's room was military neat, making Virgil roll his eyes when he discovered that even the contents of Scott's drawers were precise. He found an old t-shirt and shorts that would serve the purpose, and hurried back.

Scott was sitting up, hunched over, while their father put something to one side.

"He's been sick, hasn't he?"

His arrival had gone unnoticed, and his dad turned quickly before he nodded. Virgil crossed the room, dumping the clothes on the chair and picking up the thermometer. Scott didn't resist as Virgil encouraged him to lie back down and a moment later, his suspicions were confirmed. Scott's temperature had topped 101.

Virgil caught Scott's eye, and inwardly winced when he saw how unfocused his brother was.

"Right," Virgil said out loud to no one in particular. "He needs fluids."

There were no arguments this time. Setting up a line, Virgil muttered an apology as he slipped the needle into the back of his brother's hand, taping it in place. Scott didn't even notice.

"I'll slip an anti-emetic into it," Virgil said. "If he doesn't vomit again, a few hours on this will make a big difference."

But he couldn't move away. Scott's eyes were shut. Asleep or just hiding from the light, though, Virgil didn't know. He rested his hand on Scott's shoulder and got a faint smile in response, even if his brother didn't open his eyes.

"I'm okay," Scott murmured. Virgil snorted, although it reassured him more than anything else his brother could say.

"Keep telling yourself that," he retorted, fetching the correct medicine.

But, if he was honest, that was exactly what he was doing. If he kept telling himself that Scott would be okay, then he might believe it.