Work Text:
Seeing that just a few days ago there'd been a race against the clock to save Gonzo from having their brain sucked out, followed immediately by aliens landing and their friend almost leaving for good, it was safe to say the Muppets had been a tad worn out by the recent excitement. That especially seemed to be the case for a certain rat who'd endured his own share of laboratory horror and, in the days since, had hardly left his small hammock, but what at first had been an understandable calm following the storm had begun to seem worrying. Of all the not-so-nice adjectives that could apply to Rizzo, lazy was certainly at the top of the list, but this level of lethargy seemed excessive, at least, that's what Gonzo thought. Trying to seem subtle about the growing concern they felt for their roommate, Gonzo gave a soft poke to the underside of the hammock that hung right above his bed. Hearing the slight squeak of the rodent stirring, they asked, "Rizzo? Are you doing alright? You've been up there all day."
“Sure am, just been appreciating being in my own bed instead of that stuffy lab.” He lied through his teeth. In reality, he felt like he’d been run over by the Electric Mayhem’s bus ten times in a row, but something kept him from admitting it out loud.
“I know the feeling. This place is way more comfortable than the cell that C.O.V.N.E.T. guy had me in.” Gonzo empathized, seeming to accept Rizzo's answer. “Oh, since the oven’s still busted, Kermit got us pizza for dinner. You want me to grab you some?”
The mere concept of eating anything turned Rizzo’s stomach, and before he thought better of it, he blurted out. “No.”
“What?”
“Huh?”
“Did you just…say no to food?” There was almost a tangible concern to Gonzo’s question. Never in a million years would Gonzo refuse to eat.
“Um, no, no. I didn't mean it, I’d love for you to get me a slice!” He quickly backtracked, pretending he didn’t notice his voice had risen a few octaves like it always did when he was panicking.
“If you say so. I’ll be back in a minute.” He got the sense that he was just being placated, but still breathed a sigh of relief as Gonzo left the room.
Truth was, Rizzo felt like death, maybe worse than it, but he hated admitting such a thing. The words seemed impossible to say, almost like he was powerless but to deny he was ever unwell. It just made him feel like a bad stereotype, 'oh, a rat with a disease, just like what took out a 1/3rd of Europe'. He felt dirty to his core, and that’s what he hated most about all this. Well, that and the aching pain that radiated from his every fiber.
He sniffled wetly as he wiped his eyes and nose with the back of his hand, cringing at the porphyrin that made his tears appear a rusty blood hue, which thankfully wasn’t terribly noticeable against his brown fur (Otherwise, he’d end up looking like one of those crusty white dogs Piggy loved.). Whatever this illness was, he was determined to hide it until it ran its course; all he had to do was not move, or eat, or talk for too long. He could do that, right?
Just then, he heard the door open, followed by the footsteps of Gonzo approaching, and once more, Rizzo tried his best to appear fine.
“Well, aren’t you gonna come down to eat?”
Shit. Well, this just got harder. “Uh, yeah. Just gimme a sec.” Fumbling his aching body down from his safe haven, he landed on the soft bed below, the impact making him nearly wince. Gonzo was sitting there already, holding one plate with two slices for the pair to share. Great. Cute, even. His stomach started twisting again as he gazed down at his favorite food that now looked like something Gaffer dragged in. He couldn't even gag, seeing as his anatomy didn't allow it; he was just forced to sit and wallow in this nauseated feeling, all while knowing his cover was likely blown by now.
Gonzo noticed the pained expression on his roommate's face; of course, they did, how could they not? After moving the plate over to the nightstand to slightly ease his discomfort, he gently asked. “Be honest, are you sick?”
That question alone gave Rizzo pinpricks beneath his fur, “What? Just cuz I’m a rat and we’re alllll diseased? Huh?” He offendedly snapped.
“Huh?" That reply clearly had not been expected. "No, it’s got nothing to do with you being a rat, just because you’re a living creature and getting sick happens to everyone.”
“Oh yeah? When was the last time you were sick then?” He asked incredulously.
Gonzo paused for a moment to consider it, “Huh. I don’t actually know. Maybe it has something to do with being an alien.”
“Yeah, not a filthy, disgusting rat.”
“Rizzo.” They interrupted sternly, but then, their voice softened. “Listen to me, buddy. I’m not accusing you of being dirty, I'm only asking because I care about you, and I want you to take care of yourself.”
Right, that was what Gonzo said to him at what they thought at the time was going to be their last moment together. Just a simple ask for him to stay safe, but the thought alone was making him tear up again. “I know, I know. Sorry for snapping, it’s just a touchy topic, y’know?”
Gonzo nodded, “I get it, I do, but I want you to be honest with me. Are you feeling sick at all?”
“To tell you the truth…” He swallowed heavily, words feeling like needles in his throat, but he pushed on, “I feel like garbage. The bad kind of garbage.”
Gonzo put a hand on his shoulder. “That's what I thought, thank you for telling me. I’ll go see if Bunsen can help.”
While Rizzo was far from keen on the others knowing he was unwell, he figured that the help of an actual doctor wasn’t the worst thing in the world. “Ok. Just- maybe keep this whole 'me being sick thing' between you guys for now.”
“Don’t worry. I will.” With that, he left the bedroom again, and after a few moments, they returned with the resident Muppet scientist in tow.
After giving him a brief look over (how Bunsen saw with no eyes under his glasses still made no sense to Rizzo), the doctor declaratively stated, “You have nothing to worry about, it’s simply a flare-up of Murine Respiratory Mycoplasmosis. “
Gonzo blinked a few times, having no idea what that could mean. “Are you sure? That’s a lot of big words.”
“Positive, see, all rats are effectively born with the bacteria Mycoplasma pulmonis that causes this ailment, which typically lies inactive in the system until symptoms break out, usually following periods of stress.”
“Would you call being violently tortured in a laboratory a 'period of stress'?” Rizzo dryly joked.
“I’m not sure. Beakie seems to like it.” Bunsen replied in a tone far too casual for what he just said, “Regardless, a course of azithromycin should clear up the symptoms for the foreseeable future, although keep in mind the disease is chronic, so preventing future flare-ups is important, as they can become serious if ignored.”
Gonzo let out a sigh of relief at the news, “Do you have any of those antibiotics now?”
“Erm, no, but you can easily pick up a prescription at any pharmacy and-“ Bunsen noticed the look that Gonzo was giving him, which non-verbally conveyed ‘can we have some privacy now?’ and stopped his rambling, “All be right on that.”
“Thank you. Oh, and one more thing, this MRM sickness, is it contagious to anyone who’s not a rat?”
Bunsen smiled, understanding the implication. “No, feel free to interact with Rizzo as much as you’d like.” He answered as he shut the door behind him.
Turning back to Rizzo, Gonzo asked, “Now that we know what’s wrong with you, do you wanna rest down here in bed? I feel like it’ll be more comfortable.”
“Well, I’m already down here, aren’t I?” He replied sarcastically, before dropping for something more genuine. “Sorry for worrying you. I promise if I ever feel this bad again, I’ll let you know.”
Gonzo gazed at him fondly as he got comfortable on the bed. “It’s ok, but just so you know, I’m gonna keep worrying about you anyway. It’s just how caring about someone works.”
Rizzo smiled and rolled his eyes. “You’re a real dork, you know that?” Still, he cozied up to the whatever, the ache in his heart soothed even if the rest of his body wasn't.