Palaye Royale One-Shots

Sicko(Palaye Royale)

"Remmy!" You called from your seat on the couch. You were wrapped in a half dozen blankets with two more draped over your lap. Half empty cracker packages, open and empty Gatorade bottles and half a can of ginger ale sat on the coffee table. The empty spaces filled with dirty tissues and crushed bubble packages from medicine. You could hear his footsteps as he walked across the room and down the hall stopping at the top of the stairs.
"Yeah?"
"I need-" you cut yourself off as you threw the blankets off your lap and made a mad dash for the bathroom. The door was closed and locked. You tried to make it to the trash can in the kitchen, but you couldn't. Eventually losing the contents of your stomach on the carpet in the hallway.
"Oh, (Y/N)." Remington said softly, voice full of sympathy. You grimaced and looked up at your older brother with tears in your eyes.
"'M sorry."
"It's okay. C'mere." You stepped around the mess and let Remington pick you up. He carried you back to the couch. "I'm gonna get you a bucket or something. Hang on."
"(Y/N) did you throw up in the hallway?" You heard the youngest of your brothers, Emerson, ask.
"Yeah. Sorry." He didn't respond. Remington came back with a blue plastic bucket and sat it by the couch. You were trying to pull all your blankets back around you, but they were tangled.
"Help me?" You asked. He smiled and grabbed the blankets, pulling them around you and adjusting them so you'd be comfortable. "Thank you."
"No problem. Anything else?"
"Honey lemon ginger tea?"
"Sure thing. Is there stuff in the fridge or do I need to make it all?"
"Ginger's in the freezer, lemons in the fridge and honey's I dunno. Somewhere." He nodded.
"Got it." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. He frowned when he felt how warm you were. "When did you last take something for your fever?" You shrugged and grabbed a tissue to stop the snot running down your face.
"Dunno. What time's it?"
"Two." You squinted at the ceiling and tried to remember when you'd last taken anything.
"Uuuuggghhhh. Maybe noon." He nodded.
"Okay. I'll be right back with your tea." He left and not after that you got bored and decided to watch something. You had just detangled yourself from the blankets and stood to grab the tv remote when Emerson walked in.
"What are you doing? I said don't move unless absolutely necessary."
"Wanna watch something." You mumbled, dropping back into your seat on the couch. You started coughing and lunged for the bucket. What came up was mostly just mucus and stomach acid and it burned a lot. Remington came running when he heard you throwing up. He frowned again.
"Have you taken anything for the nausea recently?"
"Ungh. Yeah. But it ended up on the floor in the hallway."
"Right." He walked back into the kitchen. "Do you want something other than tea to take your pills with? Do you have something?"
"Gotta ginger ale in here." He came back with your tea and medicine. You forced down two Advil for the fever as well as Dramamine for the nausea. Then sat and sipped your tea. Remington day down beside you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders.
"Noooooo." You whined and tried to push him away. "'M gonna get you sick."
"I don't care. I'm probably gonna get it anyway. I share a house with you." He pointed out. You pouted, but conceded defeat and snuggled up against him while turning on a cheesy romcom.

You must have fallen asleep because the next thing you knew Remington was gone and you were stretched out on the couch with the tv off. You yawned and stretched and rubbed your eyes. You needed to pee and you were kind of hungry. So you shuffled into the kitchen with a blanket around your shoulders. You grabbed the orange juice out of the fridge and a plastic Harry Potter cup out of the cupboard. You filled the glass and lifted it to take a drink.
"What are you doing?!" Shocked by your oldest brother's voice you dropped your cup and orange went everywhere.
"Ugh. 'Bastian what's wrong with you?" You asked him, groaning as you took in the mess of orange juice, "'S gonna be sticky. You dick."
"You're supposed to be lying down."
"Gotta clean up firs. Oh. My blankets wet." You lifted the edge of your blanket off the floor. Orange juice dropped onto the floor. "Ugh. Gross."
"You sound awful." Sebastian said, "and you look awful. You shouldn't be up." You rolled your eyes before sneezing which lead into a coughing fit. Sebastian rolled his eyes too. He walked over and scooped you up into his arms.
"Nooooo." You whined. "Gotta clean up."
"I'll do it. You need to rest." He carried you to the living room and put you back on the couch. "Now do you need food? Drink?" He grabbed the remote and handed it to you. "You have the remote, your phone, blankets, a bucket. Anything else?"
"Ice for ma gatarade." He smiled at your mispronunciations because of your nose being stuffed up.
"Sure thing."
"What the fuck?" Remington yelled as he stepped in cold orange juice on the kitchen floor. "Who spilled oj on the floor and didn't clean it up?"
"(N/N) did. I'm coming to clean it up." Sebastian called back.
"Sorry." You mumbled into your blankets.
"It's okay. Now don't move!" You rolled your eyes.
"Love you, 'Bastian."
"Love you too, kid."
"M not a kid."
"Yeah, you are. You're the baby and you'll always be the baby."
"No."
"And stubborn. You'll always be stubborn."
"Sebastian!" Remington called from the kitchen.
"Yeah, I'm coming." He sighed and took his jacket off, draping it over the back of the couch as he walked past. He brought you ice a few seconds later then went back o clean up the mess in the kitchen.

You huffed. You were tired of sitting. You wanted to get up. So you did. And then you didn't know what to do.
"How many times do you have to be told to sit down?" Remington asked.
"'M bored." You stopped back onto the couch and pulled the blankets back around you. It was amazing how tired you felt now.
"Wanna play a game?"
"Quiddler?" You asked.
"Fine. But only 'cos you're a sicko." He went to get the game and you wiggled around to get more comfortable. He came back with the game and sat down on the opposite end of the couch from you, crossing his legs and pulling the cover off the came. Half through the game Remington remembered why he usually said no to playing word games with you.
"Fuck you."
"Haha. Loser!" You stuck you're tongue out at him and then sneezed.
"Ew! Turn you're head or use your elbow! That's gross." He wiped his face with the edge of his shirt. You giggled and then coughed.
"Sorry. Involuntary. It's you're turn to deal."
"Bleh." He stuck his tongue out, but grabbed the cards to shuffle them. You started to get up and he sent the cards flying as he practically tackled you to prevent you getting up.
"I need a drink."
"Then I'll get you one."
"You do know I have the stomach flu, right? I'm not an invalid."
"Yeah I know. Now don't move."
"Fine." You sunk back into the couch. Remington crawled around on the floor picking up all the cards he'd dropped. When he finished picking up the cards he went into the kitchen. Then he backtracked and looked at you.
"Drink preference, (N/N)?"
"Oj. Please. My last cup ended up on the floor."
"Got it. Ice?"
"No. What kind of monther puts ice in oj." You made a face of disgust.
"This monster." He pointed at himself. "Do you want a straw?" You nodded. "Ok. Just a sec." While you waited you let you're mind and you're eyes wander. You glanced at the bucket by the couch. When Remington brought you're juice you said,
"Can you take the bucket it's makin' me feel like puking 'gain." He made a face of disgust, but did as you asked. "Love you Remmy." You called as he walked out of the room with the bucket held at arms length.
"You'd better." He called back.
"Ooh, Quiddler." Emerson said, walking in from the kitchen and standing behind the couch. "Can I play a game with you?" Emerson asked.
"Yeah." You patted the couch in front of you and he came around and sat across from you.
"How rude. I'm basically being your maid and you're playing with him now." Remington said when he came back.
"Fuck off. You don't even like this game." You said.
"Well yeah, but I kind like you and I was kinda having fun." He pouted.
"We'll deal you in next round." You told him. He came and knelt beside the couch, waiting for you to finish the round you were playing.
"Can I play?" Sebastian asked as he walked in from the kitchen. "I did just clean up you're spilled juice."
"Yeah, but that was you're fault." You pointed out. He raised his eyebrows and you smiled. "Yes, you can play." You looked Emerson, "should we just start again?"
"Probably."

Here you go MissElizaSchuyler hope it's okay.

Avery L.