Chapter Text
King knew what was coming.
He'd woken up that morning with a scratchy throat and a sore rasp in his voice. Of course he'd immediately went and grabbed some cool water, only to be immediately disheartened with a sickening dread when the feeling didn't dissipate. The entrance of the normally-soothing liquid that crashed down his throat in a torrent, only ended up serving to further irritate the area.
King was sick.
Really, it was only a minor annoyance than anything serious, but still. Now he had to restructure his whole day!
Call the auto shop and explain why he wouldn't be working his shift.
Picking up the phone felt like the hardest thing to do.
Go downstairs and leave an instruction note for Purple, so that the kid could put together an easy meal with already cooked entrees King had built up a stockpile of for relief in hard days.
King's legs felt like lead and he couldn't find something to write with.
Get lots of rest.
Why couldn't he sleep? Oh right. The irritation of being unwell.
King could laugh at the irony that was sickness, sometimes. When the body needed rest to recover but the symptoms were so uncomfortable it was difficult to start that whole process.
He should go grab his medicine stockpile that was still in his bike basket. Just a simple trip downstairs and into the garage.
It felt like a mile away.
“Daaaaad,” Purple's almost musical voice from the bottom of the stairs called out in casual wondering of where King was.
Ah, that's right. King had mentioned the previous evening that he would replace the toothpaste tube in the downstairs bathroom the next morning.
It was that morning now. King suddenly grew more aware of how much time had passed as he hobbled around in his room and connecting bathroom.
By the simple logic of Purple wanting to brush his teeth now, the kid must have already eaten breakfast, which meant King was definitely behind normal schedule.
King blinked his bleary eyes as he tried to will his legs over to his door and respond to Purple. It's already been at least a minute since Purple's casual shout upstairs.
In the end, he didn't have to do anything because there was a few sharp knocks at his door, Purple having already come upstairs himself.
King startled out of his foggy-brained stupor and went to call out a simple “Come in!” that quickly turned into a coughing fit as his throat dramatically protested the attempt at speech.
Purple cracked open the door and his eyes widened as he analyzed King's condition and put the pieces together. “Ah.”
King forced his coughing to a halt and placed a clenched fist over his mouth. He drew in a few deep breaths and managed to take a few slow steps forward.
He was a physically strong stick and that more than average ability was likely the only thing keeping him from buckling and falling over in his current state.
Nevertheless, Purple ended up materializing next to his side, perhaps in an unnecessary and unneeded steadying gesture, if not for the warmth of affection for his son that blossomed within King's heart at the care shown.
“I'll lead you downstairs so you can eat something, okay Dad?” Purple explained assertively, King already knowing there would be no argument against the statement.
He was a little hungry anyway.
“S-sure. Sounds great, Purple,” King croaked out, his words an almost drunken-sounding slur. The way it came out, kinda made it sound like his jaw had been numbed, due to a lack of elegantly rigid movements that would have offered more clarity to his words.
Besides, King had done his absolute best, with every effort he could spot opportunity for, to help Purple with his solid standing and confidence.
No more, was King going to accept a submissive and servant like demeanor from his son, so seeing the 15-year-old take charge so easily over the sickness ordeal, was an even greater comfort than King suspected Purple knew.
Purple smiled softly and gripped King's waist tighter, his fluffy purple hair just barely touching underneath King's arm, due to the dull-orange stick's height over him. Despite the height difference though, the two fell into an efficient rhythm, and the next thing King knew, the father and son were at the bottom of the stairway just beside the dining room and the kitchen.
“I'm going to sit you down at the table-” Purple stated, as he did exactly that, carefully helping King lower himself into a wooden chair. “-and bring you the medicine stash bags, and uhhhh... Would you like some toast?”
The last words were uncertain in tone, but Purple quickly nodded at his own sentence with self-assured logic even before King's brain could finish processing and try to formulate a response.
“Yeah, toast would be one of those easier foods for sick stomachs,” Purple nodded, a hand on his chin in thought. “Let's save the leftover chili for a celebration when you're all better!”
And with that, Purple rushed into the kitchen, out of sight from King. Even with King’s dulled hearing senses, the distinct sound of the toaster being pressed down almost echoed into the dining room.
As the toast was being prepared by the machinery that shared a similar name, King heard faintly the footsteps of Purple entering the garage, presumably to retrieve the medicine stash from his bike basket.
King already knew he needed some cough medication, preferably a cough drop so the herbs within could coat his throat and make the scraping aches more bearable. Milk would also be good for coating the throat, and soon King started rambling in his head as he plucked from his medicinal knowledge stores that sure were coming in handy now.
Then Purple had returned and King blinked back to reality. The familiar variety of treatments, cares, reliefs, and more were quickly and methodically hoisted from the bag and spread out across the table space directly in front of King.
Ah, yes. Acetaminophen, ibuprofen, dayquil and nightquil, calcium supplements and vitamins, Purple pulling more and more items from the bag until even King's head began to spin as he continued to mentally keep tabs on every single pharmacy collectible he owned.
Wait.
Where were the cough drops...??
Purple noticed that as well, his face scrunching up in obvious confusion. The kid knew King's medicine hoard almost as well as King himself did, as a result of many nights and days King had utilized its capabilities for Purple’s sake.
Purple looked at the empty bag one more time and then back at the items littering the table. No cough drops.
There should have been two boxes. One honey-lemon, and the other plain herb. Purple preferred the honey-lemon and King preferred the other, though the one time he had stock of cherry, that wasn't too bad.
But now King was desperate enough for one, he would gladly take the honey-lemon despite the extra sweetness that he wasn't used to. So... where were the cough drops?
Purple's eyes widened in realization. “Uh oh.”
King didn't have to say a word. The way he turned and looked at Purple spoke volumes of his questions, his head somehow level with the kid’s despite King’s sitting position near Purple's stand.
“I, uh...” Purple suddenly flushed with embarrassment and sheepishness. “I'm so sorry, this is all my fault. I... I took the boxes over to Mr. Becker's house because Blue had a bad sore throat issue –I guess those four were visiting Second again– and I think I left... I think I left the boxes over there after I got sucked into an Uno game...”
“Oh.” King stated monotonously as a result of his voice's deteriorated quality. He wasn't mad at all, though deep exhaustion was already beginning to set in at just the thought of making the trek over there to get the cough drop boxes.
Although logic told him the fresh air and light exercise would be beneficial...
“Do you want to stay here while I head over and get the boxes back?” Purple hummed quietly, looking over at King's groggy and dazed features.
“Huh...?” King blinked slowly, Purple's words being slow to register in his mind. “Oh... I didn't think of that... Thought we'd both have to walk over for some reason.”
“Pfft-” Purple snorted in amusement. “No need, I can bike over real quick. Sec should probably know where the boxes are, and I'll be in and out rather quickly.”
King made a humming noise in his throat and managed a droopy head nod. His throat was really killing him.
Just as Purple had stood, a soft buzzing sound was heard and Purple made a surprised noise as he pulled his phone from his back pocket.
King observed as Purple read through a text and his eyes widened as he scanned over the words.
“Well, uh, I guess Vic is driving over to pick us up then?” Purple blinked and then he squinted downward indicating he was now reading the latter half of the text he'd gotten. “Vic is freaking out. He seems convinced that Mr. Becker is dying?? He wanted to ask us for help since you were such a big assist when the hollowhead siblings were all sick...”
“Alan is dying?” King tilted his head, wincing at the way his voice cracked and his throat seemed to dry up even more. His words were a lot more coherent and better structured than when he'd first awoken, but they were still sluggish in speed and slurred in tone. “Did Vic elaborate on that at all?”
Just as Purple was shaking his head in response to King's question, hurried knocking upon their door was heard, the loud and unexpected noise spiking a mild headache within King, of which he winced at.
Purple was no longer right next to King, having approached the door, opened it, and barely given a stunned greeting before the eldest Becker sibling's voice was heard.
“Where's King? We need assistance really really badly, Dad is deathly pale and has hardly been able to stop coughing!!”
“Whoa, Vic, calm down!” Purple held up both of his hands, eyeing the shaky grey hollowhead in front of him.
Vic was hunched over, which made for an odd stature as Vic usually was punctual and straight. Seeing him like this, all disheveled, was rather an eye-opener to how worried he must be.
“Look,” Purple sighed slowly as Vic bit his lip to stop more frantic rambling from coming out of his mouth. “Those all sound like normal cold symptoms, but of course King and I will come over. Actually I was planning on biking over myself because I left our cough drops over there-”
“Oh, yeah, Second has been putting them to use...” Vic piped up in recognition, a little calmer than before. His posture had already straightened visibly. “There is still plenty left over...”
Purple’s eyes were half-lidded in mild irritation at the interruption for a short moment, but he got over it.
“Vic. King is sick as well.”
Purple pointed to the side of himself toward the dining room where King was sitting, Vic’s eyes widening in surprise as he peeked into the house to see where Purple's casual thumb was gesturing toward.
King, who had hardly been able to process everything, only knew one thing: He was going to end up at the Becker's residence, and so therefore he would dutifully repack all the scattered medicines before him.
He already had half of his stock back in the bag before both Vic and Purple came up from behind and took over, finishing the task in mere seconds. [HEH.]
“Thanks,” King rasped gratefully. His hands had felt like they were moving through water with how slow he seemed to be able to move. The tall stick opted to ignore Vic's poorly stifled grimace at the grating edge his voice had carried due to his throat’s condition.
“Come on, let's help ya to the car,” Vic told King softly, working in unison with Purple to help the adult rise to his feet and struggle his jello legs out the door.
King might have fallen asleep in the car if Vic hadn't driven so quickly over all the speed bumps.
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