2 Sky High New York: The Return of Barrel (Another PewDiePie FanFic)

by Swedish-Chickadee

The second story in this series! The bros move into Pewdie and Cry's new apartment, thinking their time in New York will be great. But who's there to take it over, and seems to have a new thing to use a new method of getting what he wants...?

26. Bro Fever

*Barrel's POV*

I woke up in a lot of pain, nearly coughing my throat up. My head was hammering, my throat felt swollen, and my stomach groaned with soreness. My ears felt clogged, and my nose was completely congested. Gonzales was right; I was getting sick.

When I woke up, I saw both Zaley and Mayo were sitting by the bed, both of them very worried. Gonzales sighed out of relief when he saw my opened eyes. "Well, he's awake now," he said. Mayo stroked my sweat-drenched forehead, and slipped a thermometer into my mouth, and under my tongue. He left it in for a few seconds, then took it out, and checked my temperature.

"102.3, ouch. He's going to need a lot of rest and quite the bit of medicine," Mayo said. "You alive, Barrel? Or did you bake with that terrible fever?" I smiled and giggled just a little at his joke. "Imaliveee," I slurred, still feeling tired.

Gonzales placed a hand on my shoulder. "Why did you get so sick all of a sudden?," he asked. I was dying to say "It's Bro Fever. For some reason, I've been having this strange to become a bro." Instead I just shrugged.

I pushed the covers off of me, and started getting out of bed. "I think I'll be alright. It's just a fever," I insisted. "I'll be training for battle if either of you need me." I stood up out of bed, but lost my balance, and collapsed onto my side.

Gonzales and Mayo knelt down beside me. "No you won't, Barrel," Gonzales said gently. "You sir are going to be resting in bed, and getting better." He lifted me up, and put me back into bed.

Mayo helped me pull my vest and shirt off, then covered me back up. He placed a damp cloth over my damp forehead. Gonzales filled a medicine cup about halfway with some medicine, and placed an arm under my back to lift me up a little.

He gently poured the thick, red, foul-tasting medicine down my throat, then laid me back down. Mayo sat on the edge of my bed. "Now go back to sleep," he whispered. "You're so sick, and you need rest. Let the medicine do it's job, and just sleep." He stroked me gently on my bare arm with his fingertips. I shut my eyes, fluttered my lashes, and hoped the Bro Fever would pass soon.