I like the difference in the silver and shadow sonic channel stories, sonic is the one to follow shadow and get his attention and silver is the one to ask sonic for his attention
also sonic in the silver sonic channel story is so funny to me because why was he thinking about shadow of all things here
Caretaker walked into Whumpee’s bedroom, a glass of water in hand, and sighed at Whumpee’s pitiful attempt to hide a pile of papers beneath their blankets.
“What happened to ‘allowing your body to rest’?” When Caretaker was sick, Whumpee wouldn’t stop talking about rest, not allowing Caretaker to so much as get up to grab a book for themselves. But when Whumpee was sick, all that apparently went out the window. Hyprocrite.
Whumpee had the good grace to look mildly guilty. “I’m in bed, aren’t I? That’s resting,” they grumbled, pouting like a child. They always pouted when they were sick, acting like a child who’d just been told they have to nap instead of play. It was adorable.
Caretaker set the glass of water on the bedside table. They lifted Whumpee’s covers, ignoring their indignant shout, revealing a stack of papers and several ink pens. That was decidedly less adorable.
“I’ve told you a dozen times, no pens in the bed. You’re going to mark up the sheets,” Caretaker sighed, collecting the pens and paper. Knowing that it was a lost battle, Whumpee simply glared, the effect ruined by their red cheeks and baggy pajamas.
“I was bein’ careful!” Caretaker decided to ignore Whumpee’s excuses in favor of looking over the paperwork they’d sequestered beneath their blankets. Taxes and finances, things that certainly weren’t worth Whumpee exerting themselves over.
Caretaker read over the report and squinted. “Darling, why did you write our cat as a dependent?”
They received a confused look in response. “Because she is? She’s an inside cat; it’s not like she’s feeding herself,” Whumpee declared, as if Caretaker was the one being unreasonable. “I’m almost done, okay? Let me finish that up and I’ll be done, 15 minutes tops.”
No, Caretaker was not going to let them finish. If they had their way, Whumpee wouldn’t be picking up a pen for the next week. Putting the paperwork at the edge of the bed, Caretaker walked to Whumpee’s side and put a hand to their forehead. Whumpee leaned into the touch in instinct, their frustration seemingly forgotten.
Caretaker certainly didn’t need a thermometer to tell that Whumpee had a fever. Their skin was clammy, body radiating an unhealthy heat. Caretaker could feel Whumpee trembling under their hand.
“You need to rest, not spend all day trying to fill out forums.” Whumpee simply gave a wordless whine in response, pressing their face further into Caretaker’s hand. After a moment, Caretaker brought their second hand up to press into the side of Whumpee’s neck, causing them to sigh in relief. “Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?”
Whumpee didn’t respond for a long moment, so long that Caretaker thought they’d fallen asleep. “Can you make that soup I like?” they finally murmured into Caretaker’s palm. “The one with the bell pepper…” Caretaker was painfully tempted to pet Whumpee, but they resisted.
“Alright baby. I’ll make it if you promise to rest. I’m sure you can find something to watch.” Whumpee groaned, but nodded. Caretaker smiled
Caretaker returned to Whumpee about an hour later, a bowl of soup in hand. They found Whumpee curled snugly in their blankets, their television show utterly forgotten.