#altno3

[more-magpiie]

fever and delirium

This combines two prompts from whumptober cuz I'm not gonna keep up so I’m just calvinballing it. Anyway this fic is madwife but the next one might not be cuz one of the alternative prompts gave me an idea and so how do youns all feel about madmoon huh. 👀

Also this is set after season 2 so there are ~spoilers~ pls be careful

From the moment the Baron’s potion crossed his lips, life began to return to Sweeney’s cold, ashen skin. Laura had laid him out on the cheap bed in the motel room, and was now crouched next to him with her hand in front of his face. When she was sure she could feel breathing, she said a silent thanks to whichever deities she hadn’t pissed off yet that this had worked. She couldn’t wait to yell at him for having to drag his sorry ass across the parking lot without getting busted.

The warmth was quickly returning to his body — too quickly. Even with her deadened nerve endings, she could feel the heat radiating off him. She frowned and lifted her hand to his forehead, where beads of sweat were already beginning to form, and jumped a little in surprise when he turned into her cool touch and let out a weak groan. "Shit, oh shit, you’re alive," Laura said. He opened his eyes at the sound of her voice, but his gaze was unfocused, panicked. He scrambled backwards to hunch against the headboard, hands flying to the spot between his ribs that had been pierced by Shadow’s killing blow and breath coming in ragged gasps. The wound that had been so neatly stitched up in Cairo was searing with a heat she could see, glowing golden beneath his trembling hands, and Sweeney was babbling in a language she could only barely identify as old Irish from the odd string of profanity. Sometimes when he was drunk he would teach her to curse, but he refused to teach her much else. She watched him uncertainly until the pain seemed to subside a little and he slumped back against the wall, eyes half-lidded, still alternately gasping for breath and mumbling incoherently.

Laura watched him for a few moments, chewing her lip, arms folded in front of her. Finally she disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a damp towel. Dropping back into a crouch next to him, she moved to dab the cool cloth against his forehead. He had seemed only semi-conscious but now jerked away from her, eyes wide and frantic. "Don’t fucking touch me," he breathed, seeming only now to really notice her presence, expression creasing in nervous confusion. "Hey, calm down. It’s okay. We’re in a motel, in uh…" She glanced around. "Well, I don’t know exactly where this is. But it’s far away. It’s safe." He frowned and started arguing back to her in Irish, eyes searching the room without really taking anything in. Laura swallowed, relief rapidly evaporating. "I don’t understand what you’re saying. Hey asshole, you’re freaking me out. Look at me. It’s me." He did look at her now, stared at her with such distrust that it hurt, and then his expression softened.

"Laura," he said finally, voice cracking with exhaustion, and she nodded and leaned over to press the towel against his forehead. He didn’t resist her this time, just frowned and let his eyes close. "What the fuck’s happening?" She opened her mouth, closed it again, then gently settled herself on the bed beside him and let him wrap his arms around her. "It’s okay," she said quietly. When he pressed his face into the curve of her shoulder it was still painfully hot, but his breathing was starting to settle back to normal. "I brought you back." He stank of blood and decay and his clothes were tattered and wet with perspiration, and if he was any more lucid she knew neither of them would let this happen. But her mind was on the final ingredient of the potion and how tired she was of the big show they had to make of screaming at each other any time they fucking brushed hands or held eye contact too long. And seeing him confused and trembling made whatever was left of her heart hurt, and her desire to make sure he was okay won out over her desire to yell at him for getting himself killed in the first place.

She sighed, rubbed her cool fingertips into the tension at the back of his neck, and closed her eyes. "You’re an idiot. But I’ve got you."

[elisabethrosewrites]

Day 3: Fever

A day late I know but here it is. Max doesn’t know how to deal with baby Kal when he’s sick. (Max uses gender neutral pronouns and one of the common parent “names” I’ve found is renny, so basically the gender neutral for mommy or daddy). This is still light on the whump but I’m having fun. 

“Kal’s sick,” Max said into the phone. They were staring down at their baby’s flushed cheeks and teary eyes. Watching their miserable two-year-old was making Max feel teary themself. They hated to see Kal sick, especially when Emily wasn’t around. She was out with Marcus scoping the streets and who knew what else for their little gang of rebels.

Emily sighed into the phone, “He hasn’t been feeling good all day,” she sounded tired. “Just take his temperature and give him some children’s cold medicine, there should be some up in the medicine cabinet. I’ll be home as soon as I can, Marcus and I are almost done.”

“Yeah okay,” Max said, “Be safe, see you when you get home.” They hung up the phone and slid it back into their pocket. “Okay little guy, let’s see what’s up.” Kal reached up for Max and they leaned over the playpen to pick him up. The toddler wrapped his arms around Max’s neck, burrowing his face into their chest. 

The little whine Kal gave was the saddest thing. Max bounced him lightly and carried him into the kitchen. They put him down on the counter below the medicine cabinet and pulled down the medicine and the thermometer. “You have to hold this under your tongue okay? Just for a minute and then we can get some of this tasty medicine in you and you can sleep in renny’s bed okay?” The toddler frowned at the thermometer but nodded, opening his mouth and letting Max put it under his tongue. Max watched the numbers slowly creep up higher than they liked. They pressed a kiss to Kal’s forehead and pulled the thermometer away. “Okay you, this is not allowed,” Max said, opening the medicine bottle and filling the little measuring cup. Kal was a good sport about taking it, his face squishing up in disgust at the taste. Max scooped him up off the counter and carried him slowly towards the back bedroom, avoiding toys that littered the living room floor.

The coughing started not long after Max put Kal in bed. It was a soft, miserable little sound that rapidly became chesty and left Kal gasping for air after a fit. Max sat Kal up, propping him against their chest. “It’s okay Kal, it’s okay,” they tried to sooth their baby. They kissed the top of his head, feeling the sweat dampened strands against his lips. Another cough tore through his chest. “I’ve got you,” Max murmured.

“Renny,” Kal whined. “Cold.”

“I know sweetheart, I know but you can’t cover up right now,” they said and fumbled for their phone, holding Kal tighter. They dialed Quinn’s number again, this time she picked up. “Quinn, Kal’s sick,”

Quinn sounded distracted when she responded. “Uh-huh,” there was a soft rustling of paper. “Did you give him cold medicine?”

“Yeah but…” Max could feel a little tremor go through Kal’s body.

Quinn cut him off, “It’ll take a little for the medicine to kick in then, give it time,”

“But he’s getting worse,” Max said, feeling the little tremor again. They adjusted their hold on Kal, rocking him gently. “I think his fever is going up, his skin is so hot and he started coughing really bad.”

“Just give the medicine a half hour to kick in and let him rest,” Quinn said.

The tremor was getting worse. “Can you come over, just to check on him, please Quinn? Emily is out patrolling with Marcus.”

She sighed and Max could hear her slam something down. “I’m working on something very important right now Max, I’ll come over later if he’s still feeling bad.”

Kal whimpered and the tremors turned to fits. “Quinn what’s happening, he’s shaking so bad, Quinn, Quinn,” Max’s voice rose in octave and they tried to hold Kal still. “Quinn what’s going on?”

“Max, deep breath for me, he’s probably having a seizure, it happens in kids when they get high fevers. I’ll be there in five minutes, hold him on his side and keep him calm okay? I’m coming.” Quinn said, she sounded sure and calm which helped to bring down Max’s anxiety. “Can you do that for me?”

Max stared down at Kal’s convulsing body. “W-what?”

“Max, carefully turn him on his side for me, I’ll be right there.” Quinn said.

“Y-yeah, okay,” they took a deep breath and very carefully turned Kal onto his side. The convulsions were easing but Kal was breathing very fast. Five minutes felt more like five hours to Max but Quinn’s voice brought them back to reality. They could hear her calling through the apartment. “Our room!” Max called back and rubbed Kal’s back gently. “Auntie Quinn is here, your going to be okay,” they said, it was more for their own benefit than Kal’s. Kal seemed to have drifted off to sleep after the seizure.

Quinn came quietly into the bedroom and sank down beside them. “Okay, let’s look at you,” she said and carefully maneuvered Kal onto his back. Max moved so they wouldn’t be in the way of her examination. “Max, when did his fever start?”

Max shrugged, watching her hands move expertly over Kal. “I don’t know, he’s been miserable all day and I didn’t know what to do.” They kept a hand in Kal’s hair, stroking, comforting, even though Kal seemed to be sleeping. The contact was comforting for Max and they didn’t want to be apart from their son. “This is Emily’s job, I’m no good when he’s sick.”

“It’s okay Max,” Quinn said, she had pulled an external thermometer from her bag and ran it across Kal’s forehead. “His fever is high, but I think the medicine is kicking in. We’ll just keep an eye on him tonight and make sure he gets plenty of fluids.”

Tag List: @fanastyfinder @whumptober2019