"Not Ginny again." He heard his wife curse as she ran from the room. Pete was amazed, they had both been up all night, dealing with whatever bug Ginny had brought home from school. He had never seen someone so sick move that fast. But that was exactly why he admired Myka so much, when it came to her children, she put her own crappy mood aside to rush to their aid.
Pete rolled over to look at the clock. It was six, too early to function. He had hoped that Ginny would make it through the night without another incident, and was disappointed to hear the retching coming from his children's room. He thought about getting up to help, but before he could move, he saw the door open slowly.
Martin came through the door, wiping tears from his eyes. Pete was surprised, he expected to see his daughter there instead, as Martin usually skipped whatever bug was moving around the Bed and Breakfast. "Hey buddy." Pete crooned to the sandy haired four year old. "What happened?"
Martin climbed into the bed, snuggling close to Pete. "Ginny made me sick, Dad."
Pete nodded, stroking his son's hair, feeling the warmth from his tiny body. "I know, Martin. Mom and I have been sick all night long." He answered. He was starting to feel it taking a toll on him, as he fought to stay awake. Being sick was tiring.
Martin turned so his back was against Pete's chest. "Mom said to come lay down with you." Pete could tell from his breathing that he was almost asleep. Pete wrapped his arm around the tiny body, hugging him close. He heard the boy begin to snore. Pete relaxed his body, and fell asleep himself.
The sleep was restless. He woke for a minute when Myka was on the phone, again when she hopped into bed, and again still with every tiny movement Martin made in his arms. So when the farnsworth buzzed, Pete opened his eyes, knowing that he didn't really stand a chance to get any rest as it stood now.
Martin had his elbow dug into Pete's stomach as he hoisted himself up to see the farnsworth that hadn't been opened yet, resting in Myka's hand. She opened it carefully, pressing the dial that brought it to life.
"I'm not coming in today." Pete heard his grumpy sounding boss say on the other end, not waiting for a greeting from Myka.
She smiled back at him. "That's fine, neither are we." She panned the farnsworth over the bed so that Pete could see his boss's face clearly. Pete waved awkwardly at the older man.
"Oh, hi Marty." Pete could hear his gruff voice soften coupled with the smile on the older man's face, using the special nickname for Martin that only he got the honor of using.
Martin waved at the farnsworth, his hand limp from exhaustion. "Hi Granpa Artie. Ginny got me sick."
Artie's head bobbed up and down. "Me too buddy. So I guess that means Claudia is in charge."
Pete heard the hitch in his voice, as did Myka, who pulled the farnsworth away from her husband so she could see the screen. "Artie, she'll be fine. You know that. It's been ten years since she was that kid she used to be. She knows more about the warehouse than all of us combined at this point." Pete watched her talk to their boss, listening to her echo the words he would tell her anytime they had to leave the kids overnight, and he found it amusing that Artie babied the warehouse that much.
"I know. I know that, I just... I haven't missed a day in twenty years." Pete watched Myka nod at that statement, her wild curls bouncing as her head bobbed up and down. Pete saw Myka with that same dedication to the warehouse, always there even when she probably shouldn't be. He admired that about his wife and Artie, wishing that he had half of their dedication. Not that he didn't care, he just wished sometimes they could go a day without a Ping.
"Artie, you do realize she is practically your boss, right?" He asked toward the farnsworth, unable to see Artie's face. Myka laughed. As sick as they were, that laugh made Pete smile. It burst from her chest like she had been waiting for the perfect joke to use it for. Pete stroked her curls in response.
"Yeah. Yeah, you're right." Artie answered, not sounding convinced. Pete didn't understand the big deal, Claude, Levi, and Steve were more than equipped to handle anything the world threw at them.
Martin removed his elbow from Pete's abdomen so that he could climb on top of Myka, inching forward to see Artie's face. "Granpa Artie! If you feel better later today, can you come over and play piano with me?"
Pete loved that Artie and Martin bonded over the piano. Yes, Pete could play, but he wasn't nearly as good as Artie, and he couldn't compose anything to save his life. The piece he had tried to write for Myka hadn't turned out quite the way he wanted it to, and he had scrapped it before she had the chance to see it.
Pete could hear the warmth in the older man's voice. "That depends on how you are feeling, Marty. But if not today, definitely tomorrow." Martin laid back against Pete's chest, not really happy with the answer he had received. Pete made a mental note to ask him to play later regardless of whether or not Artie came back later. "Feel better guys." At that, the farnsworth flicked off.
Myka dropped the farnsworth on her nightstand and laid against her pillow, her eyes closing. She looked as exhausted as Pete felt. Martin left his father and snuggled close to his mother, laying his head on her chest. Pete didn't feel jealousy at his son's preference. In all honesty, Ginny had turned out to be a total daddy's girl, and Martin preferred the company of his mother. Myka kissed the top of his sandy head. "How are you feeling?" She crooned, running her fingers through his hair.
Martin shrugged against her body. "Sick." He answered bluntly. He turned to face Pete, his green eyes exploring his father's face. "Can Granpa Artie come play piano later?" He asked.
Pete tousled his son's hair. "We'll see." He felt a yawn escape his lips, and stretched his arms above his head. "I'm still really tired."
"I'm tired too." He heard the little voice next to him respond. He rolled toward his wife and son in the center of the bed.
Myka laughed again, more quietly, but still beautiful. "I would still be asleep if I didn't keep getting woken up!" She wrapped Martin in a tight embrace. "I vote we go back to sleep." She whispered, her eyes closing. Pete could still see a smile on her face, despite the exhaustion.
Pete reached out and started playing with her curls. He couldn't help it, he loved them. They were as wild as her personality. He watched the smile on her face grow bigger. "Have I ever told you how much I love your brilliant ideas?" He jokingly asked, his own eyes closing.
"Clearly not enough." She answered. Pete fell asleep, one hand wrapped in her curls, one hand around his son's arm, almost forgetting about the nausea he felt earlier.