Sick days
Joe's pov
(A/N: perfect opportunity to remind readers these are not all one continuous story, and not one continuous timeline)
After having come back from a stint undercover, I was spending some time with Pop, Grandpa and Connor, the four of us staying at the Bay Ridge House. At Connor's request, I was sharing a room with him. Not that I had any other idea in mind, even at our ages of 13 and 25. The two of us had gone late into the night talking and watching videos and movies together, mostly getting to know each other better, as it had been less than a year since we had met. The last time I saw on the clock before we fell asleep was 2AM, since I had no work and Connor had no school the following day, a Saturday.
When I woke up, the first thing I registered was pain. My head, stomach and throat were throbbing. And I was cold, shivering and sweating like crazy. I was sick. These symptoms liked to show up at inconvenient times. Though I'm not too sure there's ever a convenient time for them, either. That one math test in fourth grade comes to mind, but it had not appeared the only time I needed it. Of course. I also had a cough and a runny nose. When he woke up, Connor was no better, sharing every symptom I had. I choked out through a coughing fit
"What now?"
I was worried about getting Pop and Grandpa sick, their immune systems might be more succeptible, though mine was probably the worse I'd met up til now. Seeing as Connor seemed to be like me in that department, I guess we had Dad to thank.
Before my brother could try to answer, Grandpa walked in
"Pop is making chicken noodle soup. We heard you both coughing and shivering. Let me get your temperatures"
We leaned forward, thankful for forehead-scanning thermometers. Both temps were to the tune of 102, causing Grandpa to shrug
"Home manageable unless it gets worse. I'll get the tylenol and some blankets, sweat the fever out. Any Gatorade preferences to stay hydrated?"
By then, Pop had brought us potato soup, which we both loved, along with some crackers and orange juice. We both rasped
"Thanks, Pop. And blue, Grandpa, please."
After our breakfast and medicine, we tried to sleep some more, not that the coughing fits allowed much of that until who I assume was Pop plugged up the humidifier in the room. I had a knack for differentiating footsteps, that's how I could tell it was Pop without even looking. With our coughs letting up a bit, we lazily and sleepily curled up closer to each other, falling asleep once more.
A few hours later, we were roused again. Food. We could smell the grilled cheese a bit better, despite having stuffy noses, and our appetite was a bit improved. I managed a sandwich and a half, when my usual was two. Connor, usually putting away one, was content with half. Better than nothing. Not having much energy, we went to sleep again, after Pop noted that our fevers had gone down to 100. Good news across the board. We did not even wake up for dinner, and it was not for lack of trying on Pop and Grandpa's end. I guess we just really needed the sleep. But the next morning, we were fully free of this 24 hour bug, causing the older two Reagans to smile
"Never thought I'd be so relieved to see these two eating us out of house and home."