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“Martin, pup, it’s time to wake up.” Way sat down on the edge of the boy’s bed and reached to gently shake his shoulder. Martin was almost completely underneath his blanket, only a bit of his black hair sticking out. “You have to get ready for school.”
He got a small whimper of protest as a response. Martin curled up further under his blanket, completely ducking below it. It was so unlike him to do that that Way was immediately concerned. He tugged the blanket down, making the boy grumble miserably.
Martin’s face was flushed red, his dark eyes watery as he scrubbed them, squinting at the sudden brightness of no longer being under his blanket. His soft pup scent had lost its sweetness, cut through with the bitter scent of illness and upset. Way put a hand on Martin’s forehead and gasped at the heat that radiated from his skin.
“You’ve got a fever.”
“Mama… Don’t feel good…” Martin sniffled with a scratchy voice, going to reach for his hand. Before he could grab it, he winced and set his arm back down. His eyes got even more wet, welling up with tears. “Hurts…” He coughed, then wrapped his arms around himself, whimpering.
“Martin!” Way pulled the boy into his arms, panic rising up inside of him. Martin’s face was warm where he pressed against his skin, nestling into his hold. His little body was trembling, hands clinging to the fabric of Way’s shirt.
His pup was sick, and Way had no idea what he was supposed to do to help him.
He hadn’t expected Martin to ever even get sick. The only time Way had ever gotten sick himself from something other than overusing his powers was when he was a child before being brought into the Chen Family Foundation. Being an Enigma, he didn’t get ill and healed far quicker than even an Alpha once he was in a better environment. Seeing as how Martin was the same designation as both of his parents and that he was being raised in infinitely better conditions than Way was at his age, the thought of the pup ever getting sick had never crossed Way’s mind.
Was it something serious, then? He vaguely remembered seeing a text on his phone from Martin’s school that a child in his son’s class was out with a case of the flu and to check if your own child had symptoms, along with a reminder of the school’s policy on sick days for its students. Was it bad enough to have gotten through Martin’s heightened immunity? He didn’t really know much about children despite having been living with Pete and Martin for a few months now, but he was pretty sure that could be dangerous for little kids to catch.
And Martin, curled up against him, shaking and coughing again while Way rubbed his back and held onto him tightly, seemed very, very small.
Desperately, Way wished that Pete was home. His mate always seemed to know how to do everything when it came to parenting and was so much better than him with their son. Pete would know exactly what to do. Way wanted to pull out his phone and call him, but he knew that Pete wouldn’t answer. He was currently on a plane, out on a business trip. He would either be asleep or busy preparing paperwork and wouldn’t be available via phone for a few more hours.
Way had told Pete that he’d be perfectly fine looking after Martin on his own for the few days he’d be gone. Pete had been avoiding going on any trips since Way had moved in, but couldn’t get out of this one. At the time, Way thought Pete was just being sweet and overprotective. He’d encouraged Pete to get back to his normal work instead of having to rearrange things. Now Way was wishing he’d grabbed onto his mate and begged the man to stay when he’d woken him up and kissed him goodbye early that morning. He was sure Pete would have figured it out somehow, and Martin would be in the care of a parent who actually knew how to make him feel better instead of just uselessly panicking.
But no amount of wishing his mate was there to help would do anything. Way needed to figure out how to take care of his pup himself.
The first thing to deal with would have to be Martin’s fever. Though, Martin had complained about something hurting, and that worried him.
“Martin, pup, can you tell me what hurts?” Way tried to shift Martin so he could see the boy’s face, but Martin was holding on tight and Way couldn’t bring himself to use any strength to move him. He didn’t want to risk hurting the pup when he seemed so fragile. “Martin?”
“My head… an’ my arms…” the pup whimpered quietly. Hearing Martin sound so miserable was heartbreaking. “Mama…”
Way felt like this was going to kill him with worry. But it couldn’t. Martin needed him.
He tried to think of how people treated fevers. When Alan had come into the garage with some kind of cold, North and Sonic had wrapped him up in a blanket and checked his temperature. Sonic had scolded Alan that if it was too high, they would all drag him to the hospital. It hadn’t been, so Way had used his power to coax Alan into letting the two bring him home. On their way out, Alan had complained that his body ached when North tugged on his arms and that the two of them fussing was giving him a headache, so those were just normal symptoms.
His powers were not an option, but the memory was otherwise very helpful. He needed to take Martin’s temperature to see if the pup needed to go to the emergency room. If a high fever could make a strong adult like Alan potentially need a hospital, a small child like Martin would absolutely need urgent care with one. Although Alan had been fine recovering alone at home, Way felt like it would be better to take Martin to see some kind of doctor regardless.
Whether it would be a doctor in a hospital or the pediatrician Pete had mentioned leaving a number for somewhere on his desk would depend on exactly how high Martin’s fever was.
He felt much better having something he could actually do that would be helpful. Surely there was a thermometer somewhere in the house. Pete had everything they could need for Martin in their home, including a first aid kit that had so far come in handy for the scrapes and bruises Martin accumulated from his four-year-old boy clumsiness. There was bound to be a thermometer in the same cabinet as that.
Way didn’t want to put Martin down but knew he had to in order to go find what he needed. He’d rather just curl up around his pup, but that wouldn’t do anything to help him. It would be better for Martin to stay tucked in bed while he fetched the thermometer and looked up the temperatures on his phone.
Martin didn’t want to be put down either. He fussed as Way tried to lay him down, refusing to let go. His little whimpers were too much and he started to cough again, so Way waited, rubbing his back. Once the pup had caught his breath, he gently explained, “Martin, I have to put you down for a moment. I’m going to tuck you in, okay? You have a fever, so you have to be tucked in. It will make you feel better.”
The pup shook his head. “Feel better with Mama…” he mumbled in protest.
“I need to go get something to check how high your fever is.”
That was the wrong thing to say. Martin’s scent spiked with even more upset and he began to sniffle. “No! Don’t go.”
“It’s just for a minute, cub. I’ll come back as quick as I can.” Even with an actual time, his reassurance didn’t help. Martin started to cry. Panic surged up in Way’s chest. “Ah… No, no, pup, don’t cry. I’ll stay right here, okay?”
The crying triggered another coughing fit. His powers really would have been helpful in this situation, and he might have even forgiven himself for it, but unfortunately other Enigmas were resistant or immune to his hypnosis. It would do nothing but make things worse. Way got him to lay down by laying down with him, Martin still holding on. He hummed a bit, then quietly sang a few pieces from songs he knew Martin always bobbed along to when they came on the radio.
Thankfully, that seemed to do the trick. Martin’s grip slackened as he started to doze off, calmed by the singing. Way carefully and slowly got him tucked in. He made sure the boy’s arms were under the blanket and then gently pressed down on them so he could slip out of the bed without the risk of Martin grabbing onto him again.
The movement woke Martin. Seeing him getting off of the bed, Martin looked absolutely betrayed. The expression would have been funny if Martin weren’t sick and his eyes full of tears. It just made Way feel horrible for tricking the pup. He apologized and promised again that it would just be a minute, but Martin started crying again.
Way did his best to ignore Martin’s cries of, “Mama! Mama, Mama…!” as he walked quickly to find the thermometer. Martin calling for him gradually turned into wordless wailing, broken by coughs and sobs. He brought out his cellphone and looked up what a dangerous temperature for four-year-olds was, and almost walked into the doorway in his haste.
Thankfully, the box with the thermometer in it was right next to the first aid kit. He grabbed it and hurried back to Martin’s bedroom. The pup was in the process of getting out of bed, no doubt to go after his parent, looking rather shaky as he went to slide off. Way quickly scooped him up before he could try getting up and potentially fall down. Martin once again clung to him with all the strength he could muster, sobbing against his shoulder.
After a glance at the packaging to see how to use the thermometer properly, Way sat down on the edge of the bed and maneuvered Martin so the boy was sitting on his lap. He managed to get the box open and pulled the thermometer out.
“Martin, turn and open your mouth so I can check your temperature.”
The pup made a sound of refusal and wouldn’t lift his head.
“I need to check, pup. So I know how to help you feel better.”
Martin wouldn’t budge, so Way patted his back and hummed to him again until his tears stopped. Once Martin had settled down, Way got him to turn his head and open his mouth.
“Now close your mouth and keep it in place. It’ll be done in just one minute.” Martin just sniffled in response, but didn’t spit it out or start moving, so Way knew he was cooperating. He set a timer on his phone and did his best to comfort the pup without shifting him too much, rubbing his back and arm and petting his hair. Once his phone beeped, he took a deep breath to try to calm his nerves and took the thermometer from Martin.
The reading was high, but not emergency room level high. Martin wasn’t in danger, which was a big relief. Way let out the breath he’d taken, which he’d barely been aware he was even holding in.
Way felt he could give Martin a little bit of a break before bringing him to see his pediatrician. He needed to find the number, and he doubted they would be seen right away anyway, so he could put off calling until Martin was sound asleep and wouldn’t be upset by him going to Pete’s desk and making the call.
After grabbing a tissue from Martin’s nightstand to wipe his face clean, he scooted back on the bed and leaned against Martin’s pillows so the child could lay more comfortably on top of him. “Your fever isn’t high enough that you would have to go to the hospital, so you can get some sleep, pup.”
“Mama will stay?” Martin asked, voice hoarse from crying and coughing so much.
“I’m not going anywhere. We can take a nap together.”
Martin, bright for his age even when he wasn’t feeling well, didn’t look too sure that Way wouldn’t try escaping again after having just done so. But he wanted to cuddle, so he settled down, turning over so he could rest his head on his chest and hold onto him with a hug.
Way pulled the blanket up. Even with getting his back rubbed and his hair pet, it took longer for Martin to doze off. No doubt his headache and throat felt even worse.
Finally, Martin’s breathing evened out and his grip slackened as he fell completely asleep. Way moved him onto the mattress with even more care than before. He stayed right with the pup for a while longer, just in case, but Martin only shifted a little in his sleep to adjust to the new position and didn’t wake up.
Confident that Martin was in a deep enough sleep that he wouldn’t wake up while he was gone, Way once again escaped from the bed. He glanced back at Martin when he reached the doorway and frowned. The boy really looked so small and fragile. It was almost tempting to get right back in bed next to him. Way shook his head.
The next temptation was the thought crossing his mind that taking a shot might help keep his nerves from completely frying, but that was also not an option.
He couldn’t give in. He needed to find the number for the pediatrician and set an appointment for Martin. Then he could finally cuddle with his pup again.
To his relief, the number was easy to find. Pete’s desk was well organized and his little file flip of phone numbers and business cards had a designated medical section. Way quickly found and pulled the card for the pediatric office right out.
Martin’s doctor told him that they could come in right away. Way wondered if it was either a slow day at the clinic because of it being a school day, Pete’s last name and money, or how frazzled his voice surely sounded that had the doctor answering that way.
With the phone call taken care of, Way got ready to leave and grabbed Martin’s shoes. He got those onto the pup without waking him, but Martin yawned and woke up as he was lifted.
Martin was too sleepy to really even register that he was being carried, seemingly content that regardless of where they were going, at least Way was holding him.
Before they reached the car, Way’s phone started ringing. Martin covered his ears, whining, “Ow…”
Way yanked out his phone and went to silence it so it wouldn’t aggravate Martin’s headache. But seeing as the contact name was the name of Martin's private school, he answered it, realizing it hadn’t even occurred to him that he would have to call the boy out sick.
He didn’t even have to explain that Martin was ill. A bunch of other students in Martin’s class had also called out, so they were just checking in to see if that was also the case or if Martin was simply being brought in late. When he answered that Martin was sick, the secretary cheerfully reminded him to send along the doctor’s note within the next few days, and not to bring Martin in until his symptoms had been gone for 24 hours.
Martin, usually so curious whenever he saw his parents on the phone, didn’t even lift his head.
Way walked a bit faster to the car, jamming his phone into his pocket. He put Martin into his car seat and bit his lip when he saw the pup starting to get upset again. He buckled him, having to move his arms for him under the straps with the boy too tired to participate. “What’s wrong, cub? You love car rides. Do you want one of your toys?” he asked.
“No. Don’t go, Mama.”
Again, Martin grabbed onto his shirt. Way wasn’t sure where he was getting the energy for it when he looked so tired.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to sit right up front. We’ll be in the car together.”
“No!”
“I have to drive so I can take you to the doctor.”
“But Mama’s gonna be gone before.”
And Way was not really sure what that meant. Did Martin mean that they wouldn’t be cuddling anymore? He supposed that might count as gone to the boy, who just wanted to be held through the rest of his illness. “I’ll be right in the driver’s seat. I won’t be gone.”
“No!” Martin protested. “Not that! Before!”
Why couldn’t Pete be here? His mate’s special ability would have been so useful. Way hated that he couldn’t figure out what Martin was trying to say. He wanted to at least try to comfort him.
Then he noticed Martin glance at the car door behind him. Way twisted and suddenly it made perfect sense.
He’d stuck a shade cover on the window of the car a while back. It covered the entire window to protect Martin from the heat and sun on drives, but would also prevent him from actually seeing out of that window. For just a few seconds after he closed the door, Way would be blocked from Martin’s view. ‘Gone.’
Way popped the dinosaur print cover off of the window and set it down. “There. Better?”
Martin didn’t answer. He was still frowning, but wasn’t so worked up anymore, which Way took as a success. He felt mildly better about his parenting skill after having figured that out without any mind reading power.
“I need to drive now.”
“No!”
And he’d ruined it. Martin wouldn’t let go. Way knew he could just pry his little hands off, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Then he thought of something. He undid the last few buttons on his black shirt and pulled it off, then quickly backed up out of the car. Martin stared at him, eyes wide. Way felt ridiculous for having to do that, now standing shirtless in their driveway, but then Martin laughed a little, and it was so nice to hear that the feeling went away.
He closed the door, and Martin shouted ‘no’ again. When he got into the car, Martin looked like he was on the verge of tears again, but seeing him sitting in the driver’s seat calmed him down. Thankfully, there was a spare t-shirt in the glovebox for Way to pull on.
The pup dozed off on the drive, holding onto his shirt like a blanket.
At the doctor’s office, Martin was calm, content to be held and not fussing when Way put a medical mask on him. He didn’t mind being put down on the exam table, since Way held his hand the whole time the doctor examined him.
The doctor told them that it was, in fact, just the flu, and that Martin’s case was actually fairly mild, probably due to him being an Enigma. Way didn’t understand how she could possibly call it mild when the pup looked so miserable and sick. He was assured that this would pass on its own soon with the help of an over-the-counter medicine that she wrote down on a little piece of paper for him.
Seeing how worried Way looked, the doctor asked if this was Martin’s first time with the flu. “He hasn’t been sick since I moved in…” he replied. “I didn’t really think he would, as an Enigma.”
“Children of all subgenders catch colds and things like this, especially from school, even Enigmas. It’s part of growing up.”
That certainly explained how he’d avoided getting sick as a child once he was off the streets. There were no other children around whose germs he could be exposed to, in the separate house he’d been kept in.
The doctor detailed everything he could do to help Martin be comfortable and get better as soon as possible, then gave Martin a sticker of a car before they left.
“Mama! What kind of car is it?” Martin asked as Way stopped at the front desk to check out of the clinic. He waved the sticker in front of his face.
He held Martin’s wrist to keep the sticker still for him to look at. “It looks like a Lamborghini,” Way told him. Martin repeated the name slowly a few times as Way signed things, trying to practice the pronunciation. With everything settled, they went back to the car. Distracted by the sticker, Martin didn’t fuss about being put in his car seat.
After a quick stop at the pharmacy to pick up medicine and a box of cold patches, they went home. Not wanting the pup to get upset again while he got what he needed to follow the doctor’s suggestions, Way simply carried the pup around as he found and gathered everything, and turned on the fan in Martin’s room.
They stopped in the kitchen to get water and juice, as the doctor said it was important that Martin get a lot of fluids. Way grabbed Martin’s favorite sippy straw cups to encourage him after Martin grumbled when he pulled the drinks out, putting water in his absolute favorite Lightning McQueen one, then juice in his racecar print one. Despite his initial reaction, Martin took the Lightning McQueen cup and began sipping from it as soon as it was put in his hands. He put his Lamborghini sticker onto the other cup.
Once everything else was ready and Martin’s cups were put within reach, Way set Martin down on the edge of his bed and got him out of his pajamas. He wiped him down with a cool cloth, taking extra care to clean his face. Martin looked ready to fall asleep sitting up as he was steadily cleaned up. Way got him dressed in a light set of pajamas, and switched his blanket for a much thinner one. He got a cold patch stuck onto Martin’s forehead and gave him his water back, then pulled the medicine bottle out of its box.
He’d been told to follow the directions on it for Martin’s size exactly as written on the box, and the box said to take the medicine with food. Martin hadn’t eaten yet.
There was no way he’d be able to cook something if he had to carry Martin the whole time. The pup was supposed to stay in bed getting rest. And he couldn’t just leave Martin in his bed and risk him bawling and trying to follow him again. That wouldn’t help the pup get better at all.
“Martin, do you want anything to eat? I’ll order it for you.” The pup shook his head. “Anything you want.”
“Not hungry…”
Way looked up what restaurants nearby did delivery. He found something that looked like it would be easy for Martin to eat and placed the order and paid online, putting a note for the person to just leave it at the door. The doctor had suggested things like soup, and he was pretty sure what he’d ordered was full of different vegetables and herbs that were medicinally beneficial.
He showed Martin what he’d ordered on his phone, hoping that might give him an appetite. But the pup ignored the screen, tugging on his arm. Way let him crawl into bed, curling up beside him while he waited for the delivery.
Thankfully, the delivery didn’t take very long to arrive. Martin grumbled at the sound of the doorbell, then whimpered pitifully when Way got up.
“I’m just going to grab the food, cub.”
It was really the worst to keep making his pup burst into tears, and very hard to ignore Martin’s repeated cries for him. While Way usually lamented that he didn’t feel like he had much natural parental instinct, especially compared to Pete, now he was keenly aware of it as he had to fight so hard against it.
Way was never letting Pete leave them alone ever again.
He grabbed the food and some utensils and hurried back to Martin. Once again, the pup was working himself up to a big fuss and in the process of getting off of his bed, and Way had to set down the things in his hands to put Martin back in bed. Martin held onto his arm, sniffling, “Mama, stay.”
“I will. I don’t have to go anywhere else today, pup. I got everything we need.”
It would be a quick and easy trip carrying Martin to the kitchen with him if he needed to heat up the food later on in the day, or to get more water or juice. Way didn’t need to keep leaving to fetch things anymore.
Despite the pup initially not wanting to eat, Way was relieved to see that Martin wasn’t fussing about being fed, and that he was taking more than just a few spoonfuls. After a bit of rearrangement, Way sat down and leaned against Martin’s headboard, then pulled the pup onto his lap. Martin laid propped up against him, and Way pulled a pillow over the pup’s lap to use as a tray for his bowl of soup.
With his parent spoon-feeding him, Martin seemed content to be eating, opening his mouth without prompting for each bite. Martin’s coughing eased up from the warmth of the soup soothing his throat after a couple of bites, and his voice even sounded a little clearer when he asked for his juice.
Though the doctor had said water was more important than food, it made Way feel better that Martin had finally eaten.
Martin’s relaxing late breakfast was disturbed by having to take his medicine. As the little capful neared Martin, his face scrunched up at the smell of it and he tried turning around. Way wrapped an arm around him before Martin could bury his face against him.
“You have to take this so you’ll feel better.”
“It’s yucky…”
He couldn’t argue with that. The artificial fruit flavoring had a horrible scent. But the box promised quick symptom relief, and the doctor had suggested it, so Martin would simply have to take it. Martin glanced up at him with big pleading eyes. Upon realizing he couldn’t get out of it when Way looked away slightly to resist, the boy obediently opened his mouth, though he looked completely miserable about it.
For a moment, Way thought Martin was going to spit it up or start coughing as soon as he got the recommended amount in, but then Martin swallowed it and whined. Way gave him his juice to sip on, and then a little more soup to get the taste out of his mouth.
“Swallow it quickly next time, cub,” Way told him, patting his back as Martin grumbled about taking the gross medicine, hugging his sippy cup to his chest.
“No more.”
“Only if you get better.”
With that done, the pup could finally be allowed to doze off uninterrupted by anything other than his coughing or desire for more water. Way could finally indulge his own instincts as well, curling up next to Martin and watching over him while he fell asleep, comforting him whenever he coughed or mumbled about his head and arms hurting.
-
Martin’s coughing seemed to subside after a few hours, and his aches eased up, letting him sleep more soundly. Way felt comfortable enough to go onto his phone, of course staying right next to the pup but no longer feeling like he would end up having to drop the phone to comfort the pup through another coughing fit.
He was able to answer his phone right as it started ringing with a videocall, and Martin only shifted a little.
Pete was in an airport, walking down the terminal. “The plane made it safely, angel. How are-”
Seeing Pete again, Way was reminded of all the stress of the day so far, and the force of it and how much he wished Pete were there suddenly slammed into him. Way interrupted him to blurt out, completely stressed, “Martin has the flu.”
He held out his phone so Pete would be able to see where Martin was tucked against his side, his face still a little red and with the fever reducing patch on his forehead.
“Oh… poor thing. He gets so upset when he’s sick.” A warning that Martin was like that, and that he even could get sick would have been nice, Way thought. Pete had never mentioned Martin getting ill before. “How’s he doing?”
“I took him to the doctor a few hours ago and picked up some medicine. She told me what to do to help him. He’s sleeping better now. I think the medicine finally kicked in.”
“That’s good. He’ll get over this soon. The first time he caught the flu he was only sick for three days, and the last two days he was mostly just tired and warm. I brought him with me into work because he cried constantly unless I was holding him. Was he as upset this time?”
“Yes. Come home.”
“I’ll move my flight forward as close as I can to the end of my meeting, baby. It’ll be okay. Enigmas have a strong immune system.” Seeing the look on his face, Pete apologized. “I’m sorry I forgot to mention what he’s like when he’s sick, Way. But I’m sure you’re doing great with him. He looks like he’s being well taken care of.”
Way swallowed, feeling a little choked up at Pete’s reassurance despite being irked that Pete wasn’t dropping everything to come home right after his demand.
They kept talking while Pete found his driver, and Martin started to shiver a little. Way adjusted the pup’s blanket. Being tucked in woke the boy up. Martin reached for him, whining, “Mama…! I’m cold…”
Way turned onto his side so he could curl up around Martin.
“Hey, little one. How are you feeling?” Pete asked.
Martin blinked slowly at the phone. “Papa…?”
“Get lots of rest, pup. Papa’s going to call again later after you’ve gotten some sleep.”
“Okay. G’night, Papa,” Martin mumbled. He made a small noise that seemed to be an ‘I love you,’ but had turned his face against Way while saying so, muffling it.
“Papa loves you very much too. Good night, little one. Mama will take good care of you while you don’t feel good.”
Way wondered if Martin asked if Pete would come right home and if he could somehow get the boy to do so, but then sighed, nuzzling the pup. It wouldn’t matter. Pete was equally weak to them both, and at least he’d already promised to take an earlier flight back, and to call again soon.
His shivering calmed down with Way wrapped around him, so Martin drifted back to sleep.
When Way looked back at the phone, Pete had a small smile on his face and a smitten look in his eyes. Confused as to why his mate was smiling while their son looked so miserable, Way opened his mouth.
Pete got to it first, voice fond as he said, “You two really are exactly alike. It’s so cute.”
“Huh? What does that mean?”
“Oh, it’s nothing, darling.”
“Pete…!” Way whined.
His mate just laughed a little. “Definitely the same.”
“Pete!”