Feeling Sick

Hello readers! This is my first fanfic ever so I hope you like it. I accept criticism, just none of the 'Oh you're terrible, don't ever write anything ever again,' because not only will you be ignored, but I will purposely write another story just to piss you off. Anyway, now for the disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. For now.

************************************

      Ford hadn't even opened his eyes yet and he knew that it was going to be one of those days. When he cracked his eyes open, all of the blurry shapes he observed seemed to glow and pulsate making a red-hot pain flare up behind his eyes.
     He forced himself into a sitting position and wiped beads of sweat off of his forehead. When he put on his glasses to look at his clock, he was upset but not surprised to see that it was only 3:22 in the morning.  He had finally fallen asleep at 1:38 so he had only slept about two hours.
     Ford's eyes widened and his hand jerked up to cover his mouth as his stomach lurched. Immediately, he threw himself off the couch he slept on and raced to the bathroom as fast as his socked feet could carry him.
     He barely made it to the toilet in time, he pretty much collapsed next to it. He tried not to make too much noise for fear of waking up his family (he still found it hard to believe that he was back in his own dimension). He didn't want them to wake up and worry about him. He finished hurling his guts into the toilet, but it seemed that his body was unaware of the fact and he spent a solid five minutes painfully dry-heaving.
     He flushed the toilet and leaned back against the wall, panting hard. He ran a hand through his hair and felt his forehead. To him, it felt fine but Ford knew that that was his body temperature messing with his senses. He slowly stood up, and silently groaning with effort, he made his way back to his bedroom and collapsed onto the couch.
     "I just have to suck it up," he whispered to himself, though it was quickly followed by a whimper as all of his muscles cramped. He had known that this would happen, not this specifically but something along the same lines. After all, he hadn't been exposed to germs native to Earth for 30 years. He was going to get sick sooner or later, he just hadn't expected it to be this painful  or soon.
     He curled up on his side with an arm wrapped around his stomach and his other hand covering his mouth in an attempt to muffle the sobs trying to tear their way out of his throat as his cramped muscles stabbed hot lances of agony through him. He just prayed that no one heard him.

************************************

     Something wasn't right. Stan's unconscious mind didn't understand what it was that had made him aware of the fact, but alarms kept blaring at the edge of his thoughts, not to be ignored. He reluctantly dragged  himself from his peaceful slumber and put on his glasses, sitting up as he did so.
     He sat on the edge of his bed for a moment, wondering what had awakened him. He decided that it would be safe to check on everyone before jumping to conclusions.
     He checked  on the kids first, and when he found them resting undisturbed,  he moved on to check on his brother. He expected Ford to be ok as well, so when Stan approached Ford's room and heard the sound of whimpering, he was immediately concerned.
     Ford hadn't exactly been the world's greatest sibling recently, but Stan was willing to forgive that. After all, the man had been to countless dimensions and had seen countless more deaths, and Stan could see that Ford was trying  to be better around people, himself and the kids included.
     "Ford?" Stan quietly asked, easing the door open slowly. He was met with the sight of his nerdy brother curled up in a fetal position, with his eyes squeezed tightly shut and his face as pale as a sheet. Stan's eyes widened and he immediately walked over to Ford, placing a hand on his forehead and almost immediately snatching it away again. His skin was so hot that it burned.
     Ford's eyes opened and he squinted up at Stan with an expression of shock on his face. he had expected Stan and the kids to be worried, but he hadn't expected Stan to help him.
     "I'm not going to make you take care of yourself when you're like this, we're family," Stan said, interpreting Ford's look of shock correctly. Ford still looked surprised, but there was a greatful smile on his face.
     "T-thank y-ou," Ford croaked.
     Stan just shrugged, but inside he was having a party. Ford had just thanked him and he didn't do it grudgingly. Maybe, their relationship was on the mend.
     Stan ran out the door, throwing an 'I'll be right back' quietly over his shoulder. He ran into the kitchen and dug through one of the drawers and grabbed a thermometer. He then went into the bathroom and grabbed a bottle of Benadryl and a bottle of Advil. Then he had a thought and grabbed a waste basket as well.
     He returned to Ford's room and set the waste basket within Ford's reach. he then grabbed a blanket and draped in over his twin's curled form. He put the thermometer in Ford's mouth and left the room once again to get a cup of water. When he got back, Ford had already grabbed an Advil and was sitting up. Stan took the thermometer out of his mouth and read the temperature. He winced in sympathy as he read Ford's temperature of 102.4º F. Stan handed him the water and started getting the proper amount of the Benadryl. Ford grimaced as he swallowed the pill then Stan handed him the pink liquid medicine which he downed quickly.
     "Do you want to lay down in the living room?" Stan asked. Ford nodded and went to stand up but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Ford looked up at Stan questioningly, and Stan grabbed Ford's arm and slung it over his shoulders by way of evaluation. Stan wrapped the arm closest to Ford around his twin's middle to support him and Ford stood up.
     Stan was greatful that he had expected Ford to have trouble standing, because Ford immediately started swaying and Stan held on tighter. Ford stooped to grab his bucket and they started to walk to the living room.
     When they got there, Ford eased himself onto the giant skull while Stan reclined the chair. Stan then helped Ford into the chair and chose not to comment as Ford let loose a string of curses that would have made any sailor proud. Stan put the blanket over him again and put the bucket on the skull.
    Stan straightened and lightly patted Ford's chest. "I'll go to the store in the morning and get some ice chips for your throat. I have to go anyway because we're out of bread," Stan stated plainly allowing no room for argument. "Just try to get some sleep, it can only help."
     Ford didn't need to be told twice. His eyes drifted closed and he only just heard Stan whisper, "Get well soon Pointdexter."

************************************