Wild Kratts - ONE SHOTS

A Feverish Brother

RING. RING.

That loud, irritating, yet usual morning ringing alarm, was in charge of waking up a deeply slumbering Kratt. His brain took a while to receive the awful resonation, making him moan a little, gradually returning to the world of living after a good night's sleep.

Not baring the noise any longer, Martin stopped the alarm by smacking it with his fist, perhaps a little too hard. He slowly opened his eyes, squinting them, before getting up into a sitting position while stretching. Looking around, he spotted his brother on the other side of their shared room, somehow still sound asleep, his head hidden under his typical favorite green blanket.

Unknowing why, Martin sensed something was out of place. How come his brother not be awake by now? It was odd. He brushed off the thought, pushing away all suspicion from the insignificant situation.

As the sunrise shone through the window and on his face, a small smile of delight brightened his expression, giving him the much needed motivation to crawl out of bed. His feet and the floor met, then he dragged himself out of the chamber.

"You have five minutes to get up Chris!" He let out sympathetically before walking out the door, leaving him in his snoozy state.

Oh, if only he knew...

Moments later, Martin returned to the room, only to find his brother still asleep. For a moment, he thought he was just teasing him, so - with a grin - he went over to him, planning to force him out of bed in a matter of playfulness. Just as he roughly pulled the sheet away, a sudden series of chivering hit Chris like an atomic bomb, causing the whole bed to shake intensely.

"Chris?" Martin called, dropping the fabric on the floor. "Bro, you okay?" He knelt beside his bed, grabbing him by the shoulders.

"Chris! What's wron-" The sight staggered him; his brother's face was red and sweaty, his breathing heavy and his eyes squeezed shut.

"Chris?" He called out, but the younger brother only kept his eyes closed, clearly dealing with some kind of uneasiness.

Concerned, Martin gently felt his forehead with the back of his hand,  only to discover warmth radiating from his pale skin.

Wide eyed, he let out with a desolated tone. "Brother, you're burning up!"

Instinctively, he picked up the blanket he once dropped and used it to cover up his ill little brother, who was still chivering uncontrollably, tucking him in comfortably. Chris let out unanticipated, violent coughs, which triggered Martin's overprotectiveness; he rubbed his chest in an attempt to alleviate his agony.

"Just hang in there, I'll be right back!" He softly reassured his half awake brother, a few moans escaping him as a response.

Briskly, the empathetic older sibling dashed out and back into the room with some supply: a tissu box, a glass of water, some medicine, pain killers, a damp washcloth, and a few other things... All at once, he set up a little stationary on Chris' night table, a satisfying one that would answer his brother's needs during his period of sickness.

Chris looked up with feverish eyes, finding his older brother warmly looking down at him, and with a sore throat that made speaking almost impossible for him, he grumbled in pain.

"It's ok, Chris. Just try to relax," he said softly while adjusting the blanket near his neck, still wearing that same affectionate smile, attempting to hide his worry.

He then grabbed the damp washcloth and set it down on his little brother's forehead, edging his burning temples. He winced as the heat and cold clashed on his facial skin, then let out a sigh of relief, allowing himself to relax. Martin went over to close the curtain, blocking any light from disturbing his sick little brother, then exited the chamber, leaving him to get the rest that he needed.

He would come and check on him throughout the day, ask him how he was holding up, give him medicine, bring him soup and tea, tell him amusing creature jokes... He would do whatever he could to keep a smile on his little brother's face, and nothing would change that.

"Thanks, bro." Chris said with a hoarse voice, before taking one last sip of tea.

"Oh, it's nothing." Martin rubbed his hair affectionately, then put the cup on the night table.

As he stood to walk away, he turned to him one last time. "Get well soon, lil' bro," he whispered. A small smile of graditude made its way on Chris' face.

And with that, Martin walked out, leaving him to rest in quietude and peace.