So do you guys still hate me for that last chapter? No? Oh, thank goodness!

This chapter contains a nod to a certain YouTuber (not jacksepticeye) who has taught me a lot of random and somewhat useless stuff. But his video on what do do when you're sick gave me a few ideas for this.

Well, fluff be abound in this chapter! Mainly towards the end. Enjoy!

Chapter 23 – Illness

Morning brought with it a thunderstorm. Rain lashed against the windows, stabs of white lightning illuminated the roiling grey sky for a split second before disappearing, followed by rumbling roars of thunder. Some found these great torrents of noise irritating, others (dogs included) were petrified. Skulduggery was fascinated by them. Whenever the opportunity arose, he'd always perch on a windowsill or other available surface to watch Nature's terrifying displays of power with the eagerness of a child. How such anger and ferocity was somehow able to rejuvenate that which it struck was a wonder to him, and one he paid great respect to.

So the moment he'd realised that it was thunder that woke him from his peaceful slumber, he'd clambered out of bed to watch the fearsome scene that raged outside. So absorbed in it was he that he didn't notice Erskine was awake until the sound of someone vomiting interrupted his thoughts.

"Erskine?" Skulduggery ventured, turning towards the bathroom; which was where he'd heard the noise. Leaving his perch, he made his way in. Erskine was kneeling in front of the toilet, having just emptied the contents of his stomach into it.

"I'm okay," Erskine groaned, haphazardly waving an arm in the air before letting it fall. "Just… Probably just something I ate last night."

Frowning, Skulduggery crouched down next to Erskine and peered at his face, noting the flushed cheeks and beads of sweat on his forehead.

"You look feverish," Skulduggery stated worriedly. He placed the back of his hand on Erskine's forehead. The skin wasn't burning, but it was definitely warm. "Which is understandable, since you are feverish."

"It's probably just a bug," Erskine dismissed, standing up shakily. "I'll be fine tomorrow."

"And until then, I'm looking after you," Skulduggery announced, rising to his feet as well.

"You can't even look after yourself."

"For your information, I am actually doing quite well."

A weak smile was all Skulduggery got for a response. Rolling his eyes, he wrapped an arm around Erskine's waist and pulled him close, giving him a gentle squeeze and feeling the feverish warmth of his body. "Get some rest. I'll get you something to drink."

"Thank you."

Smiling, Skulduggery placed a quick kiss on Erskine's forehead before departing for the kitchen. Much to his surprise, he found Valkyrie slumped over the table in front of a laptop. Upon hearing him, she raised her head up to look at him groggily.

"Don't tell me you're sick, too," Skulduggery lamented. "I've already agreed to look after Erskine."

"Actually, I'm sleep deprived," Valkyrie croaked. "After all, I've been working on this case all. Fucking. Night. No thanks to you, by the way."

"Sorry."

"Forget it. You need your beauty sleep, but someday, you're going to have to get used to a sudden lack of it. I had to."

"I'll make you some coffee. Would you like that?"

"Thank you. White, three sugars. Make it strong."

"As you wish, your Highness."

"Cut the crap, bonehead. Coffee. Now."

Scowling, Skulduggery wasted no time in making Valkyrie's coffee before heading back upstairs to Erskine.

"Valkyrie's still bitter about last night," he grumbled as he walked over to Erskine, who was curled up on the windowsill with his head pressed up against the window, which was misting up because of his body heat and the cold outside. "And she's sleep deprived. I advise you stay away from her."

"I had no intention of crossing paths with her anyway," Erskine murmured. He gratefully accepted the glass of cold water that Skulduggery held out for him. "Thank you. I really needed that."

"You're welcome," Skulduggery said, sitting down on the windowsill in front of Erskine. "I've always liked watching thunderstorms. They're quite impressive to watch."

"I guess you're right," Erskine said, gulping down a large mouthful of water. "You know, I've been thinking of a nickname for you recently."

"Oh, dear," Skulduggery lamented, a joking glint sparking in his eye. "Please tell me it's better than 'bonehead'."

"Phoenix."

"You have a cold, too? Bless you."

"No, you bonehead. That's your nickname. Phoenix."

"Oh. Why Phoenix? D-don't take this the wrong way, it's a nice nickname, but… how do I relate to a flaming bird from mythology?"

"Well, when you rose from the dead, it was a rebirth of sorts. The… the burning of your corpse was also a factor, I suppose. Then you regained your life to the full, and that could be considered a second rebirth. Like a phoenix."

"Phoenix, hmm?" Skulduggery mused, a small smile on his face. "I quite like it, actually."

Erskine grinned, but his expression was quickly replaced by a grimace as his guts churned again. "I don't feel good," he groaned.

"That makes two of us," Clarity muttered, their head poking through the door. They looked tired and a little groggy, and there were slight bags beneath their eyes. "I think the Pilau rice that Valkyrie got yesterday was dodgy. You had it, I had it, Dexter had it, and guess what? We're all sick! Whoop de doo."

Erskine and Skulduggery both nodded in understanding. They knew about Clarity's stomach when it came to processed human food. Thankfully, they'd grown more resilient over the years, and it was less of a problem now.

"Listen, you two lovebirds look after each other – I'm looking at you, Skulduggery – and I can take care of myself and Dexter if he needs it."

Without another word, they left. The men just stared after them, speechless.

"Were they implying..?" Erskine asked dumbly.

"I think they were. Wait here, I'm going to talk to them."

Standing up, Skulduggery quickly departed the room, speed walking to catch up with Clarity.

"Clarity," he called. "Wait a moment."

Sighing, Clarity complied. "What? Can't you see I'm ill and irritable?"

"What exactly were you implying just a moment ago?"

"You and Erskine being an item? I was implying that, yes. I'm not stupid, you know. I walk into Erskine's room every few mornings to find you two curled up together like a mated couple. And I know you haven't mated, by the way, so there's no need for you to get ready for when I hit you because of it."

"And you're not upset about it?"

"No. You're good to him, I can see that. Since you two got together, he's gotten so much better, and… I haven't properly thanked you for that. Since he was put into my custody, I've just… I don't know. I guess I've been scared of messing up and making things worse. It's stressful."

Nodding in understanding, Skulduggery placed a hand on their shoulder in an unexpected gesture of kindness. "Don't worry about it anymore. You've got the rest of us now. Just worry about the legal issues for us, and we'll take care of the rest."

"Fuck you, Pleasant."

A cheeky smirk was all they got for a reply before the detective scarpered. Back in Erskine's room, he was quick to snuggle up by Erskine.

"Move over," he said. "Come on, let me keep you warm. The window's cold, and I don't think it'll do you much good."

Erskine complied without much protest, and he was more than happy to curl up in Skulduggery's arms between his legs. "Hmm, you're warm," he murmured, a small smirk twitching on his lips. "Like a phoenix."

"Anything for you, Ersie," Skulduggery crooned, kissing Erskine's jaw lightly. Outside, thunder boomed again. "You should get back into bed and stay warm. You're not going to get better if you stay here."

"For someone who hasn't been sick in two hundred years, you sure know a lot about what to do when someone's ill."

"I took some of your advice and watched some internet videos. I came across a rather interesting Canadian. Matthew Santiago, I think. No, Matthew Santoro. That's it."

"Did he have any other sage advice?"

"Shower, stay warm, don't do anything stressful, and sleep."

"Sounds like something I can do. But then again, I might not."

Rolling his eyes, Skulduggery carefully stood up and hooked an arm under Erskine's knees and the other around his back, lifting him up bridal style. To his surprise, it was a lot easier than he expected, and Erskine was remarkably light. Carrying him over to the bed, Skulduggery gently laid him down and pulled the covers over him. Immediately, Erskine curled in on himself in order to lessen the ache in his insides.

"Do you need some painkillers?" Skulduggery asked, carefully checking his forehead again to gauge how bad the man's fever was.

"I think it would help."

"Wait here, then."

Dexter groaned as another wave of nausea washed over him, making his stomach perform the fifteenth trapeze act this morning and forcing more sweat onto his skin. Something must have been really wrong with that rice to make him this ill. He hated it.

Whilst he silently lamented his fate, Saracen was looking at him gravely. Beside him, the Pups were gathered around a breakfast tray, helping to carry it.

"I fear that there is no cure for your deathly ailment," he stated whilst the Pups very nearly lost the tray's balance and tipped everything onto the floor. "Husky, the hammer if you please."

"What the hell do you need a hammer for?" Dexter grumbled. "Don't tell me you intend to break something."

"The only way to end your pain is to end your life."

"Hell, no!" Dexter protested, only to grimace when his headache spiked.

Saracen grinned mischievously, and looked towards Dingo. "Mind passing the sweet herbal tea?" he requested.

"You jerk, I need coffee!" Dexter spat, scowling up at the dark-haired mage.

"Caffeine is the last thing you need."

"Get me decaf, then!"

"Wow. Grouchy."

"Shut up, you. Now get me coffee."

"How about no?"

If he hadn't been sick, then Dexter would have lunged at him and got him into a chokehold until he turned purple.

"I hate you," Dexter groaned as he accepted a mug of steaming tea from Dingo. It looked like urine and tasted sickeningly sweet. "This is disgusting."

"It'll make you feel better," Saracen said. "Now shut up and drink it."

Dexter mumbled a quiet obscenity under his breath, only to get hit over the head by Saracen. "Not in front of the kids."

"Fine."

When night came, Erskine was half-asleep in his bed, having not taken his sleeping draught for fear of it messing with his immune system more than what had gotten at him already. He was shivering in a cold sweat, his fever having not improved at all since it had started. Skulduggery was downstairs, conferring with Valkyrie about the case concerning the gaol warden, who also turned out to be dealing sorcerer drugs to mortals, which was illegal in all countries that had a Sanctuary presiding over it; Ireland included.

He felt his stomach churning again, so he shakily got to his feet and stumbled into the bathroom to throw up again. A foul-smelling, acidic bile dripped out of his mouth as he retched, stinging his throat and making his eyes water. The last time he'd been ill like this had been two years ago, and the sickness did not earn him any mercy from his tormentors. In fact, the helplessness that had been inflicted upon him had only resulted in even fiercer… urgh… sessions…

Erskine shuddered, but this time it wasn't from illness or cold. Haunting flashes of horribly familiar sensations; pain, searing heat and a vile taste in his mouth; surfaced in his mind, and he continued to dry heave weakly and moan in discomfort. His head pounded and he found himself crying helplessly as he curled up on the cold white tiles.

"I want to die," he whined to himself. Unbeknownst to him, Valkyrie was in the doorway watching.

"I have Skulduggery's revolver in a kitchen cupboard if you want me to get it," she said jokingly. However she did not receive the intended response. Instead, Erskine backed away in fear, panic rising in his eyes.

"I-I didn't actually mean it," he whimpered, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

"Hey, I didn't mean it, either," Valkyrie said calmly, slowly approaching him with her hands raised in a peaceful manner. She was unsure as to how to calm him down, but it would probably help if he realised she wasn't going to be a threat. "I was only joking. You want me to get you anything?"

"Don't touch me," Erskine begged, his shaking becoming more violent. "Don't… don't touch me."

"Okay," Valkyrie consented, halting her path so as not to panic him further. "Look, do you want me to get Clarity?"

"I… Alright… Okay…"

Valkyrie nodded and left the room to find Clarity in their room. The cryptid was lying in bed with a heat pack on their stomach, trying to ease the cramps that the dodgy rice had induced.

"This is your fault, you know that?" Clarity complained as they sat up to look at Valkyrie accusingly.

"Well, I know not to go to that takeaway again," Valkyrie responded. "Blame aside, Erskine is having some sort of attack. He wanted me to go get you."

Immediately, Clarity was on their feet and walking over to Erskine's room. Valkyrie followed after them, and in the bathroom, she found Clarity crouching down in front of the frightened mage and trying to get his attention.

"Valkyrie, could you get Skulduggery?" Clarity requested. "Tell him what's going on."

Confused, Valkyrie opened her mouth to ask why, but decided against it and simply complied, going down to the kitchen to find Skulduggery analysing a file on the laptop. He was wearing a suit despite it being pointless at that moment in time.

"Clarity wants you," Valkyrie said, catching his attention.

"What for?" the detective questioned.

"Erskine is-."

Before Valkyrie even managed to finish, Skulduggery was on his feet and dashing upstairs. The strange turn of events perplexed Valkyrie further, and she was compelled to follow him in order to find out what was going on.

Back in the bathroom, Valkyrie found Clarity still trying to calm Erskine down, but to no avail. He was still anxious to let anyone near him, leaving Valkyrie clueless as to how Skulduggery would help. The man was never the touchy-feely type, and it was unlikely he'd be able to help.

"Hey," Skulduggery ventured as he entered the room, quick to sit down next to Erskine and wrap an arm around his trembling shoulders. To Valkyrie's surprise, he didn't flinch. "What seems to be the problem?"

"I-I feel sick," was the weak reply.

"Worse than earlier?"

"A lot worse."

A look of genuine worry crossed Skulduggery's face, and he carefully lifted Erskine to his feet. As a result, the gold-eyed mage swooned and very nearly threw up again.

"Could one of you get some water?" Skulduggery asked as he led Erskine out of the room. "Make it cold."

Clarity hastily carried out the detective's request, leaving Valkyrie to feel confused.

"How the hell are you able to do that?" she asked. "Not even Clarity could get that close to him."

Skulduggery didn't reply; instead murmuring quiet reassurances in Erskine's ear as he guided him into the bed, allowing him to curl up under the covers. His face was flushed and sweat was dripping down his skin. Glazed gold eyes looked up at the detective wearily, and he seemed to be slipping into delirium.

"Everything's going hazy," he mumbled. "And I'm burning up. It's not nice."

"Clarity will be back with some water soon," Skulduggery said calmly, gently rubbing his shoulder. "You'll be alright."

As Skulduggery had predicted, Clarity came back with a glass of water. Erskine almost drowned himself gulping it down, but he felt a lot better after he did. His vision was clearing up and the uncomfortable heat in his guts began to die down.

"Thanks," he murmured.

"It's alright," Clarity said. "Look, Valkyrie and I will leave you two in peace."

Nodding in agreement, Valkyrie followed the cryptid out of the room before stepping in front of them with a questioning look on her face.

"Do you know what's going on?" she asked. "Because I am clueless."

"You really haven't figured it out yet?" Clarity cut back, a smirk adorning their features. "Erskine and Skulduggery are an item."

The dumbfounded look on Valkyrie's face was the only answer required. And a priceless one at that.

"No way," Valkyrie objected. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Nope. Seriously, you haven't noticed? Not walked into their rooms to find them sleeping together?"

"I must be dreaming."

"Maybe. This could all be a dream. You could just be Stephanie Edgely, asleep in bed and witnessing the craziest dream possible. You might not even be Stephanie Edgely. You could be-."

"Stop that. Stop acting like Skulduggery."

"Sorry."

"Good. Now how did those two get together? Such insanity should be unfathomable."

"Skulduggery's the kind of person who protects those who need it, and Erskine really needs someone to protect him right now. That, and according to Saracen, when Skulduggery got drunk, he kissed Erskine. It kinda just set the ball rolling."

"What a way to get together."

"If relationships could usually start up that easily, then Saracen and Dexter would have hooked up a long time ago."

"Excuse me?"

"They do some weird stuff together when they have too much to drink."

"I don't want to know. Look, I've got to carry on working on that case, even though I'm sleep deprived. According to China, sleep is for the weak."

"You want some help? I don't think I'm going to be able to put up with being cooped up in my room all day."

"Thanks."

After making sure Erskine's fever had gone down at least slightly, Skulduggery quickly went to his own bedroom to get changed out of his suit and into something more comfortable. Then he returned to lie down on the bed next to his boyfriend, carefully draping an arm across his shoulders and holding him close. Although he was shaking, his skin was blisteringly hot and a mix of dry and damp from sweat.

"You should at least try to get some sleep," he advised. "You're really feverish."

"I don't think I can," Erskine mumbled. "Not without my sleeping draught at least, but I don't think it will agree with me at the moment."

Skulduggery frowned as he mulled over ways in which he could help Erskine get to sleep. None of them seemed to work except for one; an old melody that the younger mage had always had a habit of humming to himself during the war. No one knew the words, but the song itself was apparently an Irish lullaby.

Softly, Skulduggery began humming it to Erskine, running his fingers through his hair as he did so. He was a little off-key at first, seeing as how he hadn't recited the tune in a very long time, but eventually, he managed to pick it up, and the serene notes became soothing in Erskine's ears. He felt his eyelids drooping, and eventually, the peaceful melody of the lullaby; coupled with the exhaustion brought on from fighting off the fever; lulled him into sleep.

"Sleep well, Ersie."

I can't compose my own music too well. But hey, I might give it a shot. I didn't have anything specific in mind for that little lullaby, so I might try writing something.