Since I'm sick and waiting at the doctors have this.
You've recently gotten sick, nothing too bad. Just the normal. Coughing up your lungs till you feel like dying. The usual.
Usually you're the one to take care of the other two when anyone is sick. But this is the first time you've gotten sick with them.
Despite how much you tell them to leave you alone so they don't get sick.
They take this as an opportunity.
Rosie is there for cuddles. Wilbur is ready to cook anything you want as long as you mutter the word.
In reality you just want to sleep.
But they're there like you are for them. Reminding you to drink some water so you don't dehydrate, and get a couple of bites of food down.
And somehow you end up sandwiched between the two in your bed.
You have two sniffling and sick bastards on your hands when you're healthy again.
Buried in blankets, you're in bed, watching some movie from your childhood aimlessly, letting the time pass by and hoping that sleep overtakes you soon.
But it doesn't come soon enough, as it hits 3:30, you hear the dorm room open and close with seconds in between. Rosie? You hope she goes straight to her room, but hearing another pair of footsteps heading straight to yours, but then your door is nudged open and your eyes is the only thing that can be seen out of the mountain of blankets. (Where'd you even get these? You half wondered when you had pulled them out of the linen closet an hour earlier.)
"You didn't come to speech, is everything alright?"
Their words stumble on each other but then they uncover your face, feeling how warm you've gotten and promptly removed them all, save for one thin sheet. You shiver in the abrupt lack of warmth before Rosie slides herself next to your spot, against your weak attempts to stop her.
"-could get sick too," your voice cracks every syllable, throat too raw and too backed up.
Rosie only pulls you closer to her side as she asks if you've eaten anything today. And when you shake your head no, Rosie gives Will a look, who'd been standing near the bed with a hand on your leg, and he's nodding back and heading towards the kitchen. "Make some toast, Will," Rosie calls softly, covering your ears as to shield them from the volume.
"Don't worry, darling, we got you," Will speaks, walking slowly back in after a few minutes, a cup of something and a plate of two toasted slices, putting them aside as he climbs into the bed, on your other side. "Come on, you have to hydrate yourself," you're nudged to a sitting position as you force down some of the dryest pieces of toast you've eaten and a cup of tea with some honey in it.
"You guys are going to get sick," you groan at them, but they shush you as they sandwich you between them and lull you to sleep with their steady breathing.
"and what did I say?" You mutter as you wipe their foreheads down with a cold cloth, but they only give you a satisfied, albeit a little strained, smile.
