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They were never sick at the same time, barring the week they'd had the chicken pox along with Bianca and Cheren and Mom had offered to look after all four of them during the day. If one got a cold or a stomach bug or a sore throat, the other had it the moment the first one was fully recovered.
One nondescript Tuesday morning, Hilbert woke up feeling achy and feverish and the tiniest bit queasy. Hilda, not normally one for theory-testing, decided that the reason they were in such a pattern was because the sick one was contagious.
"I've got my battle with Champion Alder to think about," she said. "I can't afford to get sick. Feel better, little brother!" She blew him a kiss before she ran out the door, and Hilbert sighed. He didn't feel well enough to argue that two minutes older didn't equal actually older.
"I should be training for that same battle," he griped, but of course Mom threatened to tape him to the couch if he tried to get up. What was the point of not having to stay in bed if you had to sit quietly and do nothing anyway? "Can't I at least try to discuss strategy with my team?"
"They agree with your mother," N said as he unfolded a tray table and set it down in front of the couch. They probably did, and Hilbert wouldn't be surprised if N had flat-out asked them about it while Hilbert was in the shower. (A shower that hadn't made him feel any better despite his hopes.) Hilbert sighed, stifling a cough as he tried to adjust his covers.
"This still sucks." He hated being sick, especially when Cheren had suggested all of them go back to the Pokémon League within a year so he, Hilda, and Hilbert could take on the Champion at long last and Bianca could study their battles for her research. No pressure, he'd said, but considering the different directions their journeys had taken them back then it was nice that they'd be doing something as a group again. "If I can't do anything, you'll let them out later, right?"
"Haven't I done just that every day since I've been here?" N asked, propping another pillow behind his back and fluffing it up a little. Hilbert couldn't help smiling a little; one day six months ago N had literally flown back into their lives on Reshiram, hugs and smiles were had, and Mom had insisted he stay at their house rather than "that drafty castle full of bad memories."
Maybe for a little while, but I don't want to overstay my welcome, N had said. That little while stretched into the end of winter, throughout the spring, and was midway through the summer.
Hilbert secretly hoped N would decide to stay longer. While he'd had plenty of good, memorable times over the past two and a half years, he and the others agreed that it definitely felt like something was missing.
"Yeah, that's true." He leaned back against the pillow. "Thanks." A pang of achy nausea gripped his stomach, and he shuddered, groaning a little. "Mom said that plain toast would make me feel better."
"It probably did while you were hungry this morning, but hunger can make nausea worse," N said. "Unless you had a stomach virus, but the fact that you were able to keep the toast down means you don't. Therefore, I'll make you something more filling." Something with rice or noodles, probably, N was a vegetarian who would tolerate others eating meat but refused to cook it himself. He also had limited cooking experience, and rice and noodles were the hardest foods to mess up.
So Hilbert curled up under the blankets and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of pans and silverware and measuring cups being taken out, followed by the happy cries of N's Darumaka.
The rich scent of tomato woke him before the nudge to his shoulder did, N helping him sit up and setting a tray in front of him; it held a bowl of his favorite tomato-rice soup, a glass of orange juice, and a few crackers. Hilbert's stomach growled, reminding him that he'd eaten his very light, bland breakfast nearly four hours ago.
"Dig in," N said. "I followed your mother's recipe to the letter, so hopefully it came out right."
"It looks like it did," Hilbert said, carefully taking a spoonful. It was hot, but it didn't burn his mouth when he carefully touched his tongue to it. "How long was I asleep, anyway?"
"Not that long, thirty minutes or so." N sat down next to him, an anxious smile on his face. "So...?"
"It's good. It tastes just like..." Exactly like Mom's, actually, right down to a certain ingredient. A second spoonful and some careful chewing confirmed it. "Is that chicken?"
"It's part of the recipe, is it not?" His cheeks were pink. "I found some left over from last night in the refrigerator, and your mother told me I could use it." Hilbert swallowed, dipping his spoon back in and finding another uniformly-cut chicken piece.
"You hate working with meat."
"Well...you're sick, and I made this especially for you," N said, his voice nearly a mumble as his cheeks went from pink to red. "Food has healing properties when it's made with care, and your mother told me this always makes you and your sister happy, so..."
N had told him and Hilda all about his travels, his observations of people and their beliefs and the different ways they did things but still got along. He claimed he still didn't quite understand it, but this bowl of soup proved otherwise.
"You didn't have to," he said, taking a sip of water. "But I'm glad you did. It's perfect, N, I really appreciate it." N's shoulders slumped with relief, and his smile relaxed.
"You've been so good to me in all the time I've lived here, even when it's been obvious I'm not used to living like this," he said. "You never made fun of me for not knowing how to load a dishwasher, and if I ramble on too long you don't get grumpy and tell me off. And...we spend time together. I feel like I'm part of a real family."
"N..." Even now Hilbert hated Ghetsis for what he'd done. The expectations, the coldness, that freak without a human heart business even though the man had basically programmed him to be that way. While N had taken that betrayal and used it to go about finding himself, it was clear growing up in such a distant environment hurt more than he let on sometimes.
A real family.
"I'm glad you feel that way," he said, letting the spoon drop into the half-empty bowl. "And I appreciate the chicken, too."
"It's not so bad working with it when it's been cooked," N chuckled. "Still, try not to get sick too often. Or...do you have another dish you like when you're sick?" Hilbert laughed, followed by a cough he managed to stifle with a sip of water.
"Macaroni and cheese," he said. "Or soba noodles with shiiitake mushrooms and winter radishes." N smiled.
"I'll keep those in mind."
"And you'll tell me your favorite foods for when you're sick, right?" N shrugged.
"I rarely ever get sick, but I happen to be a fan of soba noodles with shiitake mushrooms and winter radishes myself," he said. "And it's not hard to make." Hilbert drained the last of the soup from the bowl and took a bite of a cracker, chewing thoughtfully.
"Once I feel better I'll make you some as thanks." He laid his hand down beside N's. "I'm glad you're here," he murmured. Having N back was like sugar in a cup of tea; the tea was perfectly good without it, but its addition made it all the more sweet.
"I'm glad to be here," N said softly. But just as their hands were about to meet, Darumaka bounded into the room and jumped onto the couch next to Hilbert. N blushed, pulled back, and frantically gestured for the Pokémon to sit next to him instead. "Fire-types aren't good for fevers. Even slight ones."
"I'll play with you tomorrow," Hilbert promised the little Pokémon. "That's the goal." N smiled.
"It's a good thing I made enough of that soup for a second meal, then." He leaned closer to Hilbert, smoothing the blanket around him. "But right now you need to get more rest. Do you want to watch a movie or something?" Hilbert shook his head. Normally his favorite high-fantasy tale of a boy getting sucked into a storybook would hit the spot, but he was tired again and knew he wouldn't be able to focus.
"Maybe later," he said. "Stay with me while I nap?" N nodded, taking his hand and letting Hilbert lean against his shoulder. Darumaka chirped what he guessed was feel better! in Pokémon language, and he was vaguely aware of N moving the tray away as his eyes began to close again.
"Comfortable?" N's arm slid around him, and Hilbert smiled weakly.
"You sure you don't get sick easily?"
"Positive. Even if I did, it's worth it," N said, and Hilbert gave a sigh of contentment as he leaned closer. The last thing he felt before he nodded off was N's fingers carding through his hair.
He hoped N would stay the rest of the year and longer.