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It started as a faint tickle in the back of your throat – more a distraction than any real concern. Or maybe it began a little earlier with the heaviness in your brow and the slowness of your mental faculties even after you’d visited Kopi and gotten yourself good and caffeinated for the morning’s Dateviator run-around. But you’d tossed and turned a little the previous night – the first time ever since you got to know Betty and she was able to really turn on the comforting magic – so it wasn’t until the tickle that you properly thought about it.
The cause was pretty clear: this is how it’d start every time you got a cold of some sort, with the headaches and the coughing first and then the sneezing and stuffy nose a few days later. You questioned, briefly, how you had even managed to catch such a virus given that you’ve been holed up inside for more than a month with nobody around to share your company other than physical objects (and their metaphysical technologically-revealed conceptualisations), but then again, you have also spent an awful lot of time crawling around under your couch searching out dust bunnies or down in your basement and up in your attic, so. It probably isn’t any surprise that it has all caught up to you eventually, really.
(You also wondered, somewhat hysterically, whether the Dateviators could work their magic on viruses. Farya would probably know something about that, right? But it’s not like you could see one physically without a petri dish, and, you know what? You just didn’t want to know, either way.)
The important thing was, though, that this was not particularly important. Like, what should you responsibly do under these circumstances, anyway? Work from home to avoid spreading your germs to your friends and coworkers? Alert your boss that you’d need to take a day or two off? If the Dateables couldn’t spread anything to you (and for the sake of Skylar’s poor little Suspension of Disbelief, you were just going to assume that was the case) it’s not like you could return it, either, so there was no need for any kind of social distancing.
(...come to think of it, how would you even go about social distancing from your own furniture?! Yeah – that’s one more question you were happy to leave unanswered.)
More to the point, these days you were actually pretty busy around the house here – mostly because it had turned out that your furniture, apparently, were themselves very busy, and you were simply the most obvious person to help out with anything they needed an extra hand for. Whether it was Stepford’s newfound forays into competition, Mitchel’s restaurant reviews, Lyric’s writing, or Stella’s… shall we say, unconventional business aspirations? (Or, for that matter, Bobbie’s unconventional business aspirations?) – well, they all needed you.
You were used to that. You liked that. There was a reason you’d made the (to some people bewildering if not outright stupid) decision to pursue a BFA in customer service. It certainly wasn’t because of any kind of personal history of neglect which left you even now with a thoroughly strained relationship with your parents and a lifetime’s worth of self-destructive people-pleasing to sort through!
(It might, in fact, have been a little of that, actually.)
The point was: your polycule needed you. And it’s not like you were actually doing anything super physically or mentally strenuous, just… walking all over your stupidly-large house and up and down the stairs multiple times every day.
You were used to taking care of yourself. This would be easy. Nobody (no, not even Farya) (Sorry, Farya!) needed to know.
*
They found out. Pretty much immediately, actually.
“Whoa – hang on a second there, li’l fella,” Abel interrupted, brow furrowing in concern. “You ain’t been straining your throat none lately, have ya? You’re soundin’ mighty hoarse.”
You were shaking your head even before he stopped speaking. “It’s fine. I’m just…” And, of course, a traitorous little niggle at your throat just had to set you gasping and clearing it right as you were saying that. “Just… in need of some water.”
As you opened your fridge you felt it rumble in concern, shaking the little punnet of strawberries you’d so healthily left in there. Was Freddy listening in on your conversation with Abel?! How rude!
Whatever, man. You’d already spoken to Freddy earlier. Can’t harangue you for not taking care of yourself as an inanimate fridge, now, could you?!
“I see…” Abel said lowly, and you felt his eyes on you as you poured yourself a glass and drank.
Thirst quenched, you did feel a little better! Somewhat. “See? All good!”
Still, you decided to maybe take yourself out of the kitchen for your next conversation. And maybe pick an object a little less likely to speak around about his concern.
And so, once you had helped Abel talk through his feelings for Dasha (and good on them! Why should you be the only one here finding love?), you next headed off to share a word with Mateo. He when you approached, Sprite happily curled in his lap, though the little cord-kitty let out a soft hiss when you reached out a tentative hand.
“Hello, there! Are you here to help with the inanimals again?” he asked, and that soothing voice really did help a little with the dull ache between your eyes.
“If I can! Have you, er, made any more progress with…” Your head spun a little and you reached out to steady yourself against the chair-back. “Uh… Davi?”
Mateo’s eyes crinkled, and suddenly you remembered how reluctant he’d been to accept your help even before this symptom onset. “Are you feeling alright? Don’t be afraid to cuddle up in my blankets if you need to!”
“It’s fine,” you protested, literally waving away his concern. “Davi is more important.”
His frown deepened. “I really don’t feel right bothering you with this all if you aren’t at your best. Can I at least offer you a hug?”
You allowed it, but only against your better instincts.
It didn’t end there. No matter where in the house you went, everyone was a lot more perceptive than you ever expected them to be: Shelley trembled like crazy until you let her support you with her arms and chest, Tydus refused to referee another mock-battle until you were at your full mental capacity (at least, that’s what you think her Shakespearean verse worked out to), and even Bathsheba straight-up initiated your conversation with “Wow – my dear, you are looking just awful.”
(It was okay, though, she quickly declared: she was gorgeous enough for the both of you!)
By the end of the day, the dejection was beginning to get to you as much as whatever actual illness you were dealing with. Were you really that bad of an actor? You’d never had any trouble putting on a brave and healthy face for your parents growing up!
...and, well: that thought was just another reason to be feeling a bit down today, maybe.
As you settled back into Betty’s loving (if metaphorical, this time) embrace, it was hard not to feel a little pathetic. All you’d wanted was to get some extra stuff done today – real stuff, seeing as how your job sure as hell wasn’t letting you do even the bullshit work you’d signed up to do. Instead, all you’d managed was making a whole bunch of nice people (more or less) unnecessarily worried about you.
The pillows shifted closer, the blanket tucking itself in around you, and you felt Betty’s soothing care. Maybe that’s the thought that allowed you to finally drift off to sleep.
*
You awoke to a faint rustling, and then, much more loudly, your lamp’s voice whining “All right! I get it! Not like I have a set schedule for these streams or anything…”
When you opened your eyes, it was hard to believe what you were seeing.
Your blankets from downstairs had migrated to the bed, enhancing the comfort of your already soft and perfectly-plush bedding, and right on top sat your almost-forgotten childhood teddy bear. A first aid kit stood on your bedside table, a box of painkillers set right up on top with a clean glass of fresh water beside it. And best of all, beside it was a warm, still-steaming bowl of fresh chicken soup, a pristine porcelain spoon resting delicately beside it.
You swallowed thickly and took up your glasses.
First up was the bowl; you weren’t sure whether you were focusing on it or the soup itself (your vision a little blurry at this point), but Daisuke was who appeared, so that must’ve been it. He was kneeling beside your bed, feet tucked under his buttocks in a formal seiza, and gazing up at you with great solemnity.
“A-are you okay?” you asked quickly, pushing up onto one arm before immediately collapsing back down with a loud string of coughs.
Daisuke’s stern gaze was far more scolding than you’d like to admit.
“You question my own fitness while you yourself can barely sit up?”
“I was only…” Your coughing continued; god, your throat was rough. “Concerned about… your chip…”
Daisuke nodded soulfully. “Your regard is duly appreciated, my beloved. However, my chip has by now entirely healed. I am more than capable of such a physically undemanding duty as this.”
With that, he took the bowl in one hand, and with the other, scooped up a spoonful of soup.
Your face flushed a little. “You really don’t need to…”
Daisuke’s eyes brooked no argument. Chastened, you shifted over and raised your head so he could feed you.
He was careful and precise in his motions, and though you winced a little whenever your teeth clatter against the ceramic, he appeared not at all concerned. Only when you had finished more than half of the bowl did his shoulders relax in increments, and when you drained it entirely he favoured you a grateful (and far too charming) smile.
“There. That should go a long way to easing your hunger and thirst, as well as raising your internal temperature.”
And you did feel better, really. A little abashed, you nodded your head, averting your gaze. “Thanks, Daisuke. I guess I needed that.”
“Will you be well if I retreat for now? Please: do not hesitate to call on any one of us before you if you are in need. We also may be able to retrieve other objects you are not currently able to reach on your own.”
“I will. Thanks,” you said again, feeling a bit stupid. But Daisuke only smiled and bowed, as comfortingly controlled and capable as ever.
Once his image disappeared from view you were seriously considering a nap, but there was one other dateable you felt a more than usual degree of apology towards…
As soon as she appeared Farya almost fell on top of you on the bed in her haste to get closer.
“How are you doing? What’s wrong? I’ve got symptoms of drowsiness, sore throat, dizziness-”
You coughed, only barely covering your mouth in time.
“Coughing, yes!” She took out a little flip-pad and noted it down excitedly. “That’s a good one! I mean, uh…”
You waved hazily. “Hi, Farya.”
“You!” Farya finally seemed to remember the whole situation and pouted adorably. “Don’t think I’m gonna forget you not even thinking about coming to me when I finally had something to help you with!”
“I mean, I think I thought about it-”
Farya interrupted you all in one breath: “But it is what it is and I’ve got you here before me right now so let’s get on with the treatment!!”
With unnervingly upbeat motions Farya took your temperature, felt your pulse, listened to your heart with her stethoscope (‘just for good measure,’ in her words), and personally oversaw as you swallowed two painkillers with water and then took her proffered cough drop to suck on.
“Not gonna,” you mumbled around the lolly, “tell me how I’ve prob’ly got pneumonia or somethin’?”
Farya chuckled. “Oh, I wish! I mean, in the sense that that would be super exciting to treat, anyway. But, no. Aside from your standard cold symptoms, I think you’re doing fine. Especially with this whole household here to take care of you!”
You nodded. Between the painkillers and the soup, your head was definitely starting to go hazy. “Thanks. Sorry I sorta… didn’t ask for help earlier.”
Farya sighed, hijab swishing as she tilted her head affectionately. “As long as you’ve learned your lesson. We’re here for you, you know? We want to be of use to you! That’s our whole purpose!”
You nodded again. Though with the room swimming as it was, you weren’t really up for the more philosophical side of the argument.
“Ahh, I’ll just leave you to it. Sleep well, okay? And if things get worse, make sure to wake me up again anyway! I don’t care! Screw the rules! This is what I’m made for!”
Somewhere in the middle of all that, you fell asleep.
*
When you woke it was nighttime again. It was startling, seeing the stars sparkling through Wyndolyn’s beautiful panes when it had only moments ago been morning, but then again, you’d never actually confirmed what time it was when you woke up. (Timothy would definitely not be impressed.)
You sighed back into your pillow, clinging tightly to your teddy bear. Was it still the same day? You should still have three charges of your Dateviators left, but you were honestly still feeling pretty beat. It was more the worry about missing out than anything else that had you taking the glasses up again and, without a second thought, summoning exactly who you needed the most right now.
“Why hello there, lover,” Betty cooed into your ear.
You turned over, pleased to see her already lying beside you, lip bitten and hair characteristically tousled.
“Night,” you murmured, beginning to yawn.
Betty chuckled. “Sounds like you could still do with a little more rest.” She reached out to brush the hair from your eyes and you almost wanted to just snuggle in to her chest and sleep there right now.
“Been resting all day,” you said instead.
“So I’ve seen. It hasn’t been so bad, having you here on top of me all day.”
That evoked a bit of a chuckle. Or something roughly approximating it, anyway: emphasis on the ‘rough.’
Betty continued, “though, I certainly don’t dislike it either when you’re in a bit of a more… vigorous condition.”
“Don’t think there’s much vigor in me now. Zero vigor, maybe.”
Betty’s eyes glowed. “Well, that’s all right. We all need rest sometime or other, right? Especially when we’re not feeling so well.”
You nodded, eyes slipping closed. There was a bit of a prickly feeling in your chest, now that you could look back on everything that’s happened these last two days.
“I just wanted…” your voice came out so hoarse you had to stop and cough for a few moments. “I just… um… thanks. To all of you.”
Betty tilted her head, listening.
“I’m not really… used to being looked after like this.” You snuggled a little deeper into your blankets, enjoying the extra warmth Mateo provided you. “It’s… nice.”
Betty hummed, and a moment later you felt her hand stroking gently at your hair.
“I’m sorry to hear this is so unfamiliar to you,” she said softly. “You really do deserve it, you know. And we’re all here for you either way.”
“Yeah.” Your throat was even tighter than usual now, and to your embarrassment, wetness collected in the corners of your eyes. “Oh, man.” You tried to shuffle up your hand to wipe them, but it’s just so nice and warm beneath the blankets, not to mention Teddy…
Betty got in ahead of you, brushing your eyes lightly with her sleeve. “Don’t hold back on me, now. Whatever you gotta feel, I want it, too.”
“Think I’ll…” It was so hard to even open your eyes at this point. “Go back to sleep now…”
There was a rustle, and then a faint kiss against your forehead.
“I’m never one to say no to that,” she murmured affectionately. “Sweet dreams now, then, my lover…”
You really weren’t not used to this feeling. As though this is a place where you belong. As though these people care about you, even when you’re not up to helping them or doing chores or showing the world what great parents you’ve got.
Is that what family’s supposed to be about?
With that thought, you fell asleep at last.