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Title: Chuck Versus the Sick Toddler (I seriously could not think of a better title.)
Fandom: Chuck
Prompt: Comfort food or Item
Medium: fic
Wordcount: 939
Rating: G
Warnings: mention of puking
Summary: Bryce is sick, and won't let go of Chuck.
Author's Note: This is part of a universe that is swimming around in my head and I haven't fully written yet. And I really want to to get it out. Meant for![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hc_bingo .
The preschool teacher called him while he was working on a computer repair in the cage. A quick jog to Morgan to explain and he was heading to the preschool. Alli, the assistant, led him over to where they had Bryce on a mat. “He puked after snacks. Mrs. Moff thinks he also has a fever,” she reported.
“Ugh,” he sympathized. He crouched down beside the mat. “Heya, buddy.” Confused, feverish eyes cracked open and stared at him. “Whadya say we go home?” Bryce just whimpered and tried to burrow into his shirt when he had him settled in his arms. Tiny backpack in hand, he muttered, “Thank you” before walking out.
The ride home was slow, Chuck watching out for anymore potential throw-ups. He left a quick voicemail for Sarah, stuck in a meeting. The house they bought and were still paying for laid dormant. “Okay, buddy, we're home,” he whispered, shutting off the engine. “Let's get ya inside.” Unbuckling, he carefully lifted the small body out of the carseat and walked inside.
First stop was the bathroom. Bryce had gotten a grip on his shirt and wasn't releasing. After two failed attempts to sit him on the counter, he switched to doing everything one handed. The ear thermometer was turned on and a plastic guard was placed over the nozzle. “Okay, Bryce, let's see if you've got the fever to match,” he said, sticking it in. He checked after the beep and saw it was 101.5. “High, but not in the danger zone. Good.”
Next stop was Bryce's bedroom. He grabbed pajama bottoms and a shirt before kneeling by the bed to set him down. “Bryce, you need to let go of my shirt.”
“No,” he pouted, his hands trying to grip tighter.
“I'm right here. Not going anywhere.” Bryce shook his head. He sighed, “Okay.” He finagled his jeans off and the bottoms on. Working one hand off, he quickly worked the arm and head out and the other shirt on. He allowed for reattachment before working the other off and repeating the process with just the arm. “You're not gonna let go, are you?” Bryce whimpered and burrowed closer. “Okay. Hey, you want Chewy?” He felt a nod. “You gotta hold onto him. I need to gather some stuff.” He grabbed the stuffed Chewbacca off the bed and held it until it was removed from his hand. Chuck gathered a bucket that they kept from the apartment and loaded it with a fresh box of tissues, sports drinks and saltine crackers before going to the living room. “Whadya want to watch?”
Bryce mumbled, “Star Trek.” He lightly laughed and got the first season in the DVD player before sitting down.
(_)(_)(_)
Sarah opened the front door, seeing the TV screen lit, but stuck on the same menu. She put down her briefcase before carefully walking in the living room. Chuck was lightly snoring, head tipped back, arms holding Bryce in place. Chewy had fallen to the crook of an elbow, small hands favoring Chuck's shirt.
“I would kiss you, but I don't think you want to catch what Bryce has,” Chuck mumbled, grabbing her eye.
“I had my flu shot,” she mentioned, kissing him lightly. She threaded her fingers through his hair before Bryce's. “He's sweating.”
“Last time I checked it was only around 101,” he worried.
“I'll get the thermometer.” A few moments later, Sarah came back down with the oral thermometer.
“The ear one worked fine,” he protested.
She ignored him in favor of trying to wake Bryce. “Hi,” she smiled.
“Hi, Sarah,” he mumbled, eyes closing.
“Bryce, I need you to stay away and open your mouth,” she ordered. He glared a little pathetically before opening his mouth to accept it. Five minutes and she checked. “102.4.”
“Oh, not good.” Chuck lifted himself off the couch. “Let's get you something cold to drink.” Sarah headed upstairs to change.
A light dinner and more TV later, Chuck and Sarah were getting ready for bed. Bryce had fallen asleep so Chuck managed to slip him in his bed, grip transferred to Chewy. Teeth brushed, face washed, Chuck shut off the light and started walking to the bedroom. Passing by Bryce's resulted in a form hitting his leg. “Bryce,” he sighed, kneeling down. The hallway was mostly dark, but he could see a feverish shine to his eyes, more so than during the day. Moving him back to the bathroom, he found the thermometer, mouth one, and checked. “Sarah, he's up to 103.3.”
She was behind him a few seconds later. “Ellie said that he should be fine. As long as he doesn't hit 104 or higher,” she confessed. Bryce whined and tried to reach up to Chuck's head. He picked him up automatically and held him as arms wrapped around his neck.
“I'm gonna take the couch tonight,” he acquiesced. Sarah kissed him and went back to the bedroom.
“Okay, Bryce, bedtime,” he murmured, walking down the stairs. The arms tightened and he heard whimpering. “Got it, no letting go.” The decorative pillows from the couch and chair were thrown to one side of the couch. Chuck carefully lied down and settled himself to a point where he could fall asleep and not have a stiff back in the morning. Bryce had shifted down a small bit, head resting just below his. He didn't register himself falling asleep.
Fandom: Chuck
Prompt: Comfort food or Item
Medium: fic
Wordcount: 939
Rating: G
Warnings: mention of puking
Summary: Bryce is sick, and won't let go of Chuck.
Author's Note: This is part of a universe that is swimming around in my head and I haven't fully written yet. And I really want to to get it out. Meant for
hc_bingo .The preschool teacher called him while he was working on a computer repair in the cage. A quick jog to Morgan to explain and he was heading to the preschool. Alli, the assistant, led him over to where they had Bryce on a mat. “He puked after snacks. Mrs. Moff thinks he also has a fever,” she reported.
“Ugh,” he sympathized. He crouched down beside the mat. “Heya, buddy.” Confused, feverish eyes cracked open and stared at him. “Whadya say we go home?” Bryce just whimpered and tried to burrow into his shirt when he had him settled in his arms. Tiny backpack in hand, he muttered, “Thank you” before walking out.
The ride home was slow, Chuck watching out for anymore potential throw-ups. He left a quick voicemail for Sarah, stuck in a meeting. The house they bought and were still paying for laid dormant. “Okay, buddy, we're home,” he whispered, shutting off the engine. “Let's get ya inside.” Unbuckling, he carefully lifted the small body out of the carseat and walked inside.
First stop was the bathroom. Bryce had gotten a grip on his shirt and wasn't releasing. After two failed attempts to sit him on the counter, he switched to doing everything one handed. The ear thermometer was turned on and a plastic guard was placed over the nozzle. “Okay, Bryce, let's see if you've got the fever to match,” he said, sticking it in. He checked after the beep and saw it was 101.5. “High, but not in the danger zone. Good.”
Next stop was Bryce's bedroom. He grabbed pajama bottoms and a shirt before kneeling by the bed to set him down. “Bryce, you need to let go of my shirt.”
“No,” he pouted, his hands trying to grip tighter.
“I'm right here. Not going anywhere.” Bryce shook his head. He sighed, “Okay.” He finagled his jeans off and the bottoms on. Working one hand off, he quickly worked the arm and head out and the other shirt on. He allowed for reattachment before working the other off and repeating the process with just the arm. “You're not gonna let go, are you?” Bryce whimpered and burrowed closer. “Okay. Hey, you want Chewy?” He felt a nod. “You gotta hold onto him. I need to gather some stuff.” He grabbed the stuffed Chewbacca off the bed and held it until it was removed from his hand. Chuck gathered a bucket that they kept from the apartment and loaded it with a fresh box of tissues, sports drinks and saltine crackers before going to the living room. “Whadya want to watch?”
Bryce mumbled, “Star Trek.” He lightly laughed and got the first season in the DVD player before sitting down.
(_)(_)(_)
Sarah opened the front door, seeing the TV screen lit, but stuck on the same menu. She put down her briefcase before carefully walking in the living room. Chuck was lightly snoring, head tipped back, arms holding Bryce in place. Chewy had fallen to the crook of an elbow, small hands favoring Chuck's shirt.
“I would kiss you, but I don't think you want to catch what Bryce has,” Chuck mumbled, grabbing her eye.
“I had my flu shot,” she mentioned, kissing him lightly. She threaded her fingers through his hair before Bryce's. “He's sweating.”
“Last time I checked it was only around 101,” he worried.
“I'll get the thermometer.” A few moments later, Sarah came back down with the oral thermometer.
“The ear one worked fine,” he protested.
She ignored him in favor of trying to wake Bryce. “Hi,” she smiled.
“Hi, Sarah,” he mumbled, eyes closing.
“Bryce, I need you to stay away and open your mouth,” she ordered. He glared a little pathetically before opening his mouth to accept it. Five minutes and she checked. “102.4.”
“Oh, not good.” Chuck lifted himself off the couch. “Let's get you something cold to drink.” Sarah headed upstairs to change.
A light dinner and more TV later, Chuck and Sarah were getting ready for bed. Bryce had fallen asleep so Chuck managed to slip him in his bed, grip transferred to Chewy. Teeth brushed, face washed, Chuck shut off the light and started walking to the bedroom. Passing by Bryce's resulted in a form hitting his leg. “Bryce,” he sighed, kneeling down. The hallway was mostly dark, but he could see a feverish shine to his eyes, more so than during the day. Moving him back to the bathroom, he found the thermometer, mouth one, and checked. “Sarah, he's up to 103.3.”
She was behind him a few seconds later. “Ellie said that he should be fine. As long as he doesn't hit 104 or higher,” she confessed. Bryce whined and tried to reach up to Chuck's head. He picked him up automatically and held him as arms wrapped around his neck.
“I'm gonna take the couch tonight,” he acquiesced. Sarah kissed him and went back to the bedroom.
“Okay, Bryce, bedtime,” he murmured, walking down the stairs. The arms tightened and he heard whimpering. “Got it, no letting go.” The decorative pillows from the couch and chair were thrown to one side of the couch. Chuck carefully lied down and settled himself to a point where he could fall asleep and not have a stiff back in the morning. Bryce had shifted down a small bit, head resting just below his. He didn't register himself falling asleep.
