A/N – Nearly everyone I know has had the crud lately, self included. So, I got inspired to make a contribution to the SickFic genre. Ferb & Vanessa belong to Povenmire & Marsh, and Jello belongs to – well, Jello, I guess.

Patient

Vanessa woke in the night and found herself alone. Thinking nothing of it, she turned over, flipping her pillow to the other side before she settled down again. But when Ferb didn't slip back into bed after a minute or two, she rolled onto her back and listened. Sounded like he was in the kitchen. What was he doing?

She found him sitting at the kitchen table, the tea kettle warming on the stove. He was slumped with his forehead resting in his palm, but he looked up when she said, "What's going on?"

"I'm making tea." What does it look like? was implied in his tone. His usually deep voice was another notch lower, and husky.

"You don't sound so good," Vanessa noted.

"It's nothing," said Ferb, waving her off. When she sat down opposite him, he insisted, "Just a scratchy throat."

"Mm-hm." When the kettle boiled, she got up to deal with it. Ferb tried to intercept her, but without much vigor, and she pointed him back to the chair. "Sit." He didn't have to be told twice. They had been living together for only about six months, but Vanessa was already becoming adept at the science of brewing a Ferb-approved cup of tea. Now, she fixed him a mug dosed with honey and lemon – Dr. Fletcher's Sure-Fire Cure-All he had called it when he had made the same for her when she had a cold. He gave her a thankful look when she set it on the table. She noticed his hands shaking slightly when he picked up the mug, and asked him, "Are you cold?"

He shook his head, blowing on the tea before he took a sip, then he reconsidered and said, "A little."

"Come back to bed," said Vanessa, reaching out for the mug. "Here, I'll carry that." Ferb muttered indistinctly in response to this, but followed her instructions. When he was sitting in bed, she felt his head, and he flinched at her touch.

"Your hands are cold."

"You're a little warm," she countered.

"I'm fine," he insisted grumpily.

"Well, drink your tea, and see if you can get back to sleep," said Vanessa, circling back to her side of the bed to crawl in.

"Yes, mother," muttered Ferb, clearing his throat gruffly.

In the morning, Vanessa was awakened by Ferb's coughing. He was sitting up on the side of the bed, and she could see his pajamas sticking to his back. When he heard her moving, he looked over his shoulder at her and said, "Urrghhh."

"You look awful," said Vanessa, sitting up.

"Thank you, darling," Ferb croaked, these words provoking another round of coughing.

"Want some more tea?" she offered, kicking off the covers.

"Mmf," said Ferb.

She interpreted this as, yes, please, dearest, that would be lovely and went to start the kettle. "You'd better stay home today," she called back to him.

"I have clascoughcoughhhhh – classes," he protested.

"Yeah," said Vanessa, coming back into the bedroom, "and I'm sure everyone can hardly wait to catch whatever it is you've got."

"It's just a cold," he insisted. "Cuppa tea and some breakfast…" a pause to blow his nose "… I'll be right as rain." Ferb was still sitting on the bed up to this point, but now, as he got to his feet, Vanessa saw him hesitate, saw the little furrow come into his brow as his hands flickered out to steady himself.

"Are you…?" she began.

"Fine," he snapped, a bit brusquely, then started that hacking cough again until he had no choice but to sit back down.

"That's it. You are not leaving this house, mister." He gave no sign of listening to her as he began unbuttoning his pajama shirt, and Vanessa said, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, you put that right back on."

"But, it's all sticky," Ferb complained, giving her a plaintive look as he peeled off the shirt. For crying out loud, thought Vanessa, those sad eyes and pouty lips made him look about five years old.

"Here," she helped him get it off and rolled it up in her hands. "Give me the pants, too. Then get in the shower." Vanessa fully expected some naughty grin or clever remark from him in response to this, but Ferb just gave a grunt and a sniff and a cough as he struggled out of his pajama trousers and shuffled away from the bed. She laid out some clean pajamas for him before she went back to the kitchen to finish his tea and make him some breakfast.

Eventually, Ferb came trudging out to the kitchen dressed in a T-shirt and worn khakis. He plopped down at the table, looked at his breakfast for a minute, and droned out, "I think I'd better stay home today."

"Hm, where did I hear that earlier?" said Vanessa. She gave him a smile, and an affectionate rub on the shoulder, though, as he dug into his scrambled eggs and toast. "Well, at least it's Friday; you won't miss much. Just take it easy. I have to go to work, but I'm going to see if I can get off early. Either way, I'll be home at lunch time; I'll bring you some soup and jello."

"Unh," Ferb acknowledged this. Vanessa got ready while he ate, and asked him before she left if he was going to be all right by himself. "Fine," he said, but less insistently than before. His forehead was still a bit warm to her touch, but she gave it a kiss and promised to be back later.

When she came home at lunch, he was snoring on the couch, a light blanket tossed across his legs. He stirred when she came through the room on her way to the kitchen, and mumbled hoarsely, "V'n'sssuh…?"

"How are you feeling?" she asked, although from his flushed face and bleary eyes, she had a pretty good idea.

"Plff," said Ferb, struggling to sit up, and making himself cough as he did so.

This time, when she felt his head, she exclaimed at once, "You're burning up."

"Urgh," was his answer to this.

Looking down upon his wretched form, Vanessa sighed. "I knew you should have gotten a flu shot."

"Nooo!" Ferb groaned pitifully. "No shot! Not – getting – shot…"

"Well, it's too late now," she informed him, with an exasperated shake of her head. "I brought you some medicine, and a fresh jar of MenthoRub," she indicated the grocery bag in her hand. "We'll see if this helps. Can you sit up?" she set down the bag to give him a hand, and got him into a more or less upright position on the couch. "Let me put these away, and we'll get you fixed up."

"Not. Taking. Shot," Ferb mumbled decisively.

"Nobody's giving you a shot," Vanessa tried to get through to him. "Just sit there. I'll be right back." Good grief! She knew Ferb had a thing about needles, but this was ridiculous. Next year, she was dragging him to get the stupid flu shot even if she had to hold his hand and buy him an ice cream cone afterward.

When she came back with the bottle of medicine, Ferb squinted at it and made a sulky face. "I don't like that kind."

"It's medicine; you're not supposed to like it," Vanessa informed him, pouring the liquid into the dosing cup.

"Couldn't you get the cherry flavor?"

"For crying out loud, Ferb, you're a grown man. You don't need cherry flavored cough syrup."

"But, that's vile," he glowered.

"It's Pharmacist Recommended," she countered, handing him the cup. "Just take it."

Ferb downed the thick brown stuff, twisting his mouth and scrunching his eyes in a great show of ick-blech-yuck. Vanessa had to chuckle at the fuss he was making. Maybe nineteen wasn't so grown up after all. "That's my big, brave boy," she cooed teasingly, taking the plastic cup from him. Exchanging it for the Mentho-Rub jar, she ordered, "Now, pull up your shirt." Again, the lack of a flirtatious response from him to this suggestion testified to just how sick he was, and Ferb simply closed his eyes and made a soft rrrrr in his throat as Vanessa massaged the ointment into his chest. She helped him pull the T-shirt back down and said, "Want some chicken noodle soup?"

"With the little noodles?"

"Yes, it's the kind you like with the little noodles. And I've got cherry jello cups."

"The pack with the orange?"

She deciphered this question as well. "Yes, I have cherry and orange."

"I don't like the orange," said Ferb.

"Then it's a good thing I'm not going to make you eat them," she indulged him, heading for the kitchen.

"Tastes like baby aspirin," Ferb grumbled, referring to the orange jello.

"I will eat the orange jello, Ferb. Don't worry about it."

"Mmf," said Ferb.

Vanessa really was going to have to call Linda and ask her if Ferb was always like this when he ran a fever. She made him the soup and a fresh cup of tea, and he sat at the table and ate while she downed a tuna sandwich and some yogurt. When he was finished, she asked him if he wanted to go back to the couch or to bed, and he opted for the couch. Vanessa got Ferb settled with his blanket and the TV remote, a box of tissues and a trash can. She made sure he had his cell phone within reach and told him to call her if he needed anything. "I'm taking off early; I'll be home a little after 2, okay? Try to get some rest." She kissed his forehead again and left.

A couple of hours later, Vanessa walked back into the bungalow. The couch was empty, the blanket tumbled onto the floor. She was just processing this sight when she heard the unpleasant sounds coming from the bathroom. Oh, dear…

Ferb was hunched over the toilet, his heavy breathing punctuated by a ragged cough. He looked up at her, red-faced, eyes and nose dripping, and groaned out, "I got sick."

"Oh, baby…" Vanessa's heart went out to him. Flying to his aid, she put the tissue box where he could reach it, and ran cold water on a wash cloth. Sitting back on his heels, Ferb wiped and blew his nose and Vanessa flushed the toilet. "Come here, sweetie," she crouched beside him and gently wiped his face with the cool cloth. Handing it over to him, she got up and ran a paper cup of water from the sink and offered that. "Just to rinse out," she directed, and he did as he was told. Kneeling again, Vanessa combed her fingers through his hair then laid her hand on his back and rubbed a circle between his shoulder blades. "Think you're all done?" she asked sympathetically, and he nodded. "All right," Vanessa helped him up. "Let's get you into bed."

It would have been somewhat easier to move him if he hadn't been six-foot-one, she thought, but he still had enough of his own steam to drag himself back to the bedroom with just an arm around her shoulders for support. Seated on the bed, he looked up at her helplessly, as if he didn't know what to do next, and she smoothed his hair and said, "My poor baby. Come on," she picked up the yellow pajamas from where she had left them that morning. "Get into your jammies." Vanessa winced; had she actually just used the word jammies? Oh, well, Ferb was giving her good practice for when they eventually had kids. Now he was trying to wrestle his way out of his T-shirt, and whimpered when he got it wrapped around his head. "Whoa, slow down," Vanessa got hold of him and helped him out. She helped him get changed the rest of the way, and said, "Don't button up, I want to put some more Mentho-Rub on you." From the way he was looking vaguely down at himself, she doubted he could have done up his own buttons if he'd tried.

When she came back with the rub, Ferb lamented, "It's stuffy in here, I can't breathe. And I'm freezing."

Vanessa felt the shivers go through him as she smeared his chest, and said, "We'll get you tucked in in just a minute. There we go." She buttoned him up and got him under the blankets.

Settling into the pillow, Ferb blinked at her drowsily and remarked, as if this thought had just occurred to him, "I love you."

"I love you, too," Vanessa kissed his cheek and stroked his hair. "Get some sleep, and I'll be here when you wake up."

Ferb slept, and woke, and slept again. Vanessa dosed him with more of the vile syrup, and this time he took it with a minimum of complaint. In the evening, she brought him a little tea and toast and cherry jello, and it stayed down without any trouble. Ferb was fast asleep when she finally crept in beside him and closed her own eyes. Around three in the morning, Vanessa was awakened by him thrashing around, kicking off the covers, and she turned over to find him sitting up, clammy with sweat.

"You all right?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

"I think my fever broke," Ferb answered. His voice was still hoarse, but his enunciation was vastly improved. "Ughhh," he groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "I had the most bizarre dream."

"If it was about you throwing up and fussing about your medicine, that wasn't a dream," said Vanessa, glad to see him on the mend.

"No," he shook his head, not reacting to the humor in her tone. "It was something to do with falling into a river… and there were piranhas. They ate my shoes. Then the toxic waste killed them, but it turned my hair brown. Then I woke up." Ferb looked at Vanessa. "I think I owe you an apology."

"What for?" she sat up, as well.

"Well, it's all a bit blurry, but I know I can be rather insufferable when I have a fever." Ferb managed a little smile. "Thank you for looking after me. I'm not an easy patient."

"Are you kidding?" Vanessa smiled back at him and with a playful roll of her eyes, she groused, "You should see my Dad when he's sick! Next to him, Ferb, you were a piece of cake."

THE END

A/N - Shoutout to BroadwayFanGirl91: Thanks again for Ferb's needle-phobia, and yeah, I couldn't resist using the piranhas and toxic waste.