We're on part two of sicktember, just a short fluffy oneshot for you today 3
Techno was absolutely mortified that Phil would insist on keeping him out of school.
He'd never missed a single day of classes. One stupid little illness wasn't supposed to keep Techno from pursuing his perfect attendance. He tried to tell Phil all morning that he was good to go, but the older man wasn't buying it. Maybe because Techno spent all last night puking his guts out.
"Mate, it's not that big of a deal," Phil said while bringing Techno one of the blankets from his bed, so he would be more comfortable on the couch. The bathroom was closest to the living room and it would keep Techno from having to go up and down the stairs if he wanted to grab more meds. His cheeks still burned. Not shame, exactly, but something close.
Maybe because Techno had been in a ton of foster homes and none of them ever treated him this way.
He didn't get sick often, but when he did he was used to just ignoring it as best he could. His foster parents were much too busy to keep him home when they had work. If they noticed at all, they never seemed to care much beyond sending him to bed early or telling him to stay in his room so he wouldn't infect the rest of them with his germs. Them noticing was rare though, since Techno usually tried to hide when he was ill. He didn't want to be a bother.
If he had his way, he would have hidden it from Phil too. But again, the puking kind of made it obvious that he wasn't feeling too well. Techno had been loud enough in the middle of the night to wake Wilbur up, as they shared a bedroom. Then, when his foster brother found him kneeling on the cold bathroom tiles retching his guts out, he'd run and woken Phil, despite Techno asking him not to. Techno needed to get back at Wilbur for that, at some point.
Though he could admit it was kind of nice to have Phil hold his long hair out of his face and rub his back. When he was done, Phil helped him clean up, before tucking him back into bed with a bucket next to him on the floor just in case. Maybe all three of them kind of hoped Techno would sleep it off.
Instead, he woke up with a fever.
Which led him to his current position, Phil laying out some stuff for him on the kitchen table because he had to run to the store. A fresh glass of water, a wet cloth, and a bowl of still steaming soup were set down before him. Techno had taken the blanket and used it to wrap himself up. For some reason, he couldn't stop shaking.
"I really won't be long," Phil said. "To the store and back, shouldn't take me more than half an hour."
"Unless you run into somebody from your chess club," Techno pointed out, voice slightly nasally from the mucus build up in his nose.
Phil laughed, putting down a spoon next to the bowl of soup. "Even if I do, I have the perfect excuse to escape small talk now." Phil briefly reached out to tussle his hair. The gesture was casual and affectionate. Techno had to resist the urge to draw up his shoulders and dodge the touch. He usually didn't mind when it was Phil, but he didn't want to get him sick somehow.
Phil had work and other important stuff. The guilt would eat Techno alive.
"I told Tommy not to bother you while I'm gone," Phil said. "He's up in his room doing his homework."
Techno nodded. Wilbur went to class today, much like Techno wished he could have. But Tommy's elementary school closed one Monday each month. Techno thought it might have something to do with the fact that it had teachers trained for special needs and neurodivergent kids.
"We'll be fine," Techno said. Since he was older he knew it was his job to keep an eye on Tommy too. But Phil seemed a little mournful that he couldn't take Tommy to the store with him. He probably didn't think Techno would be a good babysitter while sick.
"And if you do need anything, you know my number," Phil added, lingering in the doorway.
Techno almost rolled his eyes fondly. "Pretty sure we can manage half an hour without burning the house down."
"It's not you I'm worried about." But Phil did finally pat his pocket to confirm he had his wallet on him. "Be good, yeah?"
Techno waited until he could hear Phil's car reverse from the driveway before he allowed his entire body to sag, slumping into the couch cushions. He truly wasn't even that sick. It was annoying more than anything. He had a vague ache in every muscle, couldn't keep proper food down, his head felt stuffed with cotton, and then the fever. All just kinda there... Preventing him from sleep but also not bad enough for Techno to justify his own unproductivity to himself. He sighed, glaring at the soup on the coffee table in front of him.
Maybe he should force himself to eat?
Phil made him take some medicine earlier that should have settled his upset stomach. And he needed food if he wanted to get better quickly. Techno didn't want to miss school tomorrow too. One day of absence wasn't too bad, he'd be able to make up for it. But Phil was enough of a worrywart to keep him out of school for an entire week if Techno didn't finish his soup by the time he got back.
With a sigh, Techno scooted forward and reached for the spoon.
His hand kind of trembled awkwardly grabbing it. Techno clenched his fingers tightly around it. He shouldn't be cold, why was he shaking? Ugh, so annoying. Techno lowered it into the bowl and tried to raise it without spilling all over himself - an effort only partly successful. He ended up dripping some soup onto the coffee table and his lap, about half of it actually making it into his mouth. Techno swallowed around the chunky texture, the fluid slipping down his throat easily enough though it kind of burned because the puking last night had left the tissue raw and irritated. Techno chewed on the chunk of salty chicken left behind, trying not to gag.
He couldn't do it, and ended up spitting some of it back onto the spoon.
Soup didn't agree with Techno even on a good day. The weird combination of textures and the strangely sharp flavors bothered him too much. And all of that felt twice as bad when he was sick. He frowned at the shapeless chicken he spat out and then dropped it onto the side of the bowl with a scowl. Techno watched in vague horror as it slid back into the broth.
He had to eat it. He knew he did, as much as he hated it. He wanted to get better.
After a few minutes of angrily staring at the shaking of his hand as if that would make things better, Techno tried again, forcing another spoonful of soup into his mouth. He managed to actually get it down this time. Small victories. Only fifty more to go.
"Why do you look like you're torturing yourself?" Tommy asked from the doorway.
Techno would never admit it, but he actually jumped, spraying soup all over the coffee table this time. Great. He threw the spoon down and sagged back into the cushions.
"Weren't you doing homework?" he said, pulling the blanket closer to his body.
"Yeah, I'm already done," Tommy said, skipping over to Techno's side and leaning into his personal space. "Are you still sick?"
"Kinda," Techno answered with a shrug.
"Cool." Tommy got even closer to him. Pretty much shoving his cheek against Techno's face, really. His blond curls tickled Techno's skin.
Techno pushed him away with one hand, weaker than he usually would be. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to get sick, I don't wanna go to school this week."
"Get your own illness instead of borrowing mine. Go lick a lamppost or something," Techno told him. His tone should have made it obvious he was joking, but the eight-year-old boy's eyes actually lit up at the idea.
"I could lick your spoon," Tommy suggested.
"Don't." Techno grabbed it from the table quickly, before Tommy could pull a fast one on him. He was almost certain that keeping Tommy from contracting a preventable disease on purpose was the minimum he could do if Phil wanted them to keep out of trouble.
"Can I at least have your leftover soup then?" Tommy asked. "You don't look like you're enjoying it."
"I'm not. But I need to finish it so I can get better," Techno said, hoping that saying it out loud would help convince himself. It didn't completely shake the frown on his face. "Who decided soup is sick people food, anyway?"
"Doctors?" Tommy guessed. It made as much sense as any possible answer. Techno was the odd one out for not liking soup.
"It's so chunky and bleh," Techno said, stirring the liquid slightly. He wouldn't usually complain like this, but being sick made him kind of petty. And Phil wasn't around anyway. Techno measured his words around Phil because he was the one with the authority to kick him out. Tommy was just another foster kid. If there was anybody he could trust to not hold it against him if he was acting a little childish, it had to be Tommy.
And sure enough, the boy nodded sagely. "Hm, maybe you can blend it?"
"Blend it?" Techno asked.
"Like in that thing Phil uses to make smoothies."
Techno opened his mouth, wanting to tell Tommy that was a stupid idea and they might get in trouble for using one of Phil's expensive appliances without asking. But then he snapped his jaw shut with a click and swallowed. He had to eat the soup to get better. Techno wanted to get better more than anything. The weird texture was definitely the main thing keeping him from eating the soup today, and blending it up would make it nice and smooth. Techno could probably pinch his nose and down most of it in one go. So blending it wasn't a stupid idea at all.
Didn't Phil tell him when he moved in that he should make himself at home? Techno vaguely remembered that. Four months had passed, and the day of his arrival had become a little blurry in his memory. Techno was uncomfortable and scared, his social worker kept squeezing his hand because he wasn't answering Phil's questions politely enough. Phil was going through the whole 'smile patiently and act welcoming' routine that Techno had seen on a dozen other foster parents before. They'd always show their true colors eventually.
Except Phil didn't change. He always stayed nice and patient and welcoming.
And he had told Techno that if he needed anything, or wanted some food or water, he didn't need to ask. He could just grab whatever he wanted from the cabinets and fridge.
Did Phil also mean the blender? Maybe, maybe not. But Wilbur used the microwave all the time. Techno was pretty sure Phil wouldn't do more than scold them if it turned out he didn't want them to use his blender. He needed to eat the soup to get better.
He stood on unsteady legs and picked up the bowl.
Slowly, Techno started to shuffle over to the kitchen, trying not to shake so badly that he poured everything on the floor. Tommy laughed and took the bowl from him.
"I wanna do it, it was my idea," he said.
"It's my soup," Techno retorted. Though Tommy didn't look like he was trying to steal his food anymore. He must have gotten excited at the prospect of blending something up. Sometimes, in the morning, Tommy would insist on standing near the counter and watching Phil make those smoothies.
"Yeah, so?" Tommy was already halfway into the kitchen with it. Techno sighed, picking up the blanket that had fallen from his shoulders when he got up and wrapping it around again. When he wore it like that, the long fabric looked a bit like a cape, and he liked that. Techno folded the edges properly so the blanket wouldn't slide loose and then followed Tommy into the kitchen.
The younger boy had already dragged a chair over to the counter for him to stand on since he was a little too small to reach the top cabinets. Techno rushed over to make sure Tommy wouldn't drop the blender in trying to retrieve it. Using the appliance was one thing, breaking it would not be good. Techno wanted to get better, not get kicked out of the only foster house that ever felt like a home to him.
"Do you even know how this thing works?" he asked, watching as Tommy poured the soup into the big glass container. A lot of it splattered onto the side. Techno almost puked again on the spot since it looked so much like vomit.
Tommy wrapped the long black cord around his finger, spinning it round a few times before plugging it in. "How hard can it be?"
"You failed third grade math," Techno said.
"Math is way harder than using a blender," Tommy responded. Then he promptly pressed down on the big button that would turn the thing on.
Soup sprayed everywhere. Mostly into Tommy's face, since he was standing practically hovering over the blender. The blender that Techno distinctly remembered had a lid you needed to put on before you started blending things up. He would have warned Tommy, if his brain hadn't been too slow. So he just watched in amazement as liquid got on the cabinets, the counter, the floor. An explosion of soup, really.
Techno blinked.
"You wanna try math again?" he asked, trying not to laugh.
"Holy shit that was cool," Tommy said, almost reaching for the button a second time before Techno snatched his wrist.
"We need to clean this up before Phil gets home."
"What the fuck are you two doing?" a voice from the doorway asked. Techno tensed up, expecting it to be Phil returning from the store already. They could get in trouble. Oh, he was going to throw up again.
But it was only Wilbur. He must have skipped his afterschool activities to be home this early - maybe Phil asked him to so Techno and Tommy wouldn't be alone too long. His bag was still slung over one shoulder and he looked vaguely impressed at the mess they had managed to create.
"I'm blending soup," Tommy said. Some of it was dripping from his nose.
"You're doing a shit job at it." Wilbur dropped his bag into the corner and gingerly walked over, tiptoeing around some splatters that had made it onto the floor. "Why didn't you wait for Dad to get here? He could have done it for you."
To Techno's absolute horror, Tommy turned his head and watched him expectedly, apparently assuming he'd have an answer to that. Techno shrugged. "I wanted to get better."
"And this is going to help how…?"
Another shrug. Techno's cheeks were definitely not burning with just the fever anymore. He hated this. He hated that he screwed up again without even trying, he hated that he felt like a burden to his foster family, he hated being sick. Maybe the look on his face told Wilbur enough because the older teen inhaled sharply and then shook his head, waving his hands.
"Go back to the couch, we'll clean this up."
"But-" Techno tried. Wilbur didn't let him finish. He gently grabbed Techno's shoulders and turned him towards the door.
"You won't get better if you don't rest. Come on, Techno."
Reluctantly, Techno nodded. He shuffled back to the living room, hearing Wilbur behind him as he started to order Tommy around so they could clean up. Techno sat on the couch miserably, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping the blanket fully around himself. Being sick sucked.
After a couple of minutes, Wilbur and Tommy came back with a bowl of freshly blended soup.
"Here you go, eat up." Wilbur put the bowl down in front of him, accompanied by a fresh spoon.
"Thank you." Techno ignored the spoon to grab the bowl instead, lifting it up so he could drink. "Uh, and thanks for cleaning up."
"Yeah, no kidding. Tommy should never be allowed to use the kitchen unattended," Wilbur said while sitting down on the couch too.
"Hey! I was doing perfectly fine," Tommy complained, plopping down on Techno's other side. "And I wasn't unattended, technically. Touch ay!"
"I missed you at school," Wilbur said, ignoring his little brother. Techno drew up an eyebrow. "Totally boring without you to talk to during lunch, seriously."
A small smile tugged at the corner of Techno's lips. "I'll be better by tomorrow," he promised.
Maybe it was a bit overzealous to say that. But sitting on that couch between his brothers who had gone through the trouble of helping him when he felt his worst, it really did feel true.