#but thankfully they keep bothering him so he doesn't get time to wallow

[bakuzen-xiv]

[bisexualbuck]

Firefam Prompt: During Athena's suspension, she's alone at home while the kids are at Michael's. At the firehouse, Buck is sick but tries to make it through his 24 hr-shift with no fuss. Bobby eventually has to send him home but doesn't want him to be alone. With the rest of the team (and Maddie) in the middle of a shift, he sends Buck home with the one person who he knows is free; Athena. She did say she "needed to do something..." (maybe firefam goes to the Grant/Nash house later for a visit?)

[Read on AO3]

“No.”

“Bobby, I’m fine – ”

“You’re not working today, and that’s it. End of discussion.”

Hen gives Buck a look that reads are you even surprised and why the hell did you even bother to show up and Buck throws his uniform shirt at her. It misses her by several feet.

Buck does not pout.

“I can work, Cap’,” he tries again. He knows it’s a lost cause but he has never known when to give up.

“What did I just say? Didn’t I just say end of discussion?”

It’s such a dad thing to say that it has Buck wincing in shame before he remembers that, as much as he’d want to, Bobby isn’t his dad.

Huh. Weird thought to have. Of course Bobby isn’t his dad.

Okay, so maybe his mind feels foggy and slow, and his whole body aches, andhis throat is drier than Death Valley in the summer. But that doesn’t mean he can’t work.

Does it?

His gaze falls on Eddie who is doing nothing to hide his worry at his boyfriend’s weakened state, and he sighs in frustration.

He hates being sick. He hates missing work, he is always terrified that one day day, he will slack up too much and then he will be left behind. The world will move on without him.

“You’re definitely hot,” Chim says as he puts his hand to Buck’s forehead.

Buck did not even notice him approaching. That alone tells him that he is no condition to do his job and ugh, why did he have to get sick?

“Coming on to me, Chim? What will Maddie say?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Can Maddie come pick you up?” Bobby asks, though it’s kind.

Buck shakes his head. Black dots start dancing in his eyes as he does, andhe has to hold himself onto Chim until the wave of dizziness passes. Whenit does, he sees that his team is surrounding him, having stepped closer to him.

Eddie is by his side, his arm wrapped around Buck, and his boyfriend’s thumb has slipped under his shirt to caress his skin in a comforting movement.

“She’s working until 10pm,” Chim answers for him when it’s clear Buck won’t.

“I can stay by myself,” Buck protests – weakly.

“No you can’t,” Hen says. “We’re all working, and it’s not like you have other friends.”

“Hey. That’s not true. I have friends.”

“I love you but you really don’t.”

Now, Buck is pouting. Sure it’s true, but he doesn’t like it being said like that. Likethey can joke about it while they are the only people he has in the world besides his sister.

They are all looking at him with wide eyes.

“What?” he asks, defensive.

He feels raw in a way he can only explain by the fever he is running, and worse than he did this morning. He is barely standing up and he knows, though he won’t say it out loud, that he would have fallen over were it not for Chim and Eddie holding him up.

“Are you – oh my God, you’re crying.”

Buck puts his hand up to his cheek, and stares in confusion at the wetness on his fingers. The effects of the medicine he took earlier are wearing off, he feels himself getting weaker.

“Alright everyone,” Bobby intervenes. “Buck, you’re not working today. Athena is still off work right now and she’s going to come pick you up.”

Defeated, tired, Buck can only nod.

He really hates being sick.

.

To say that Athena is surprised by Bobby’s request of babysitting Buck would be an understatement. She isn’t surprised that he called it babysitting, but she is surprised that Buck agreed with the idea of her picking him from the station and spending the day with her.

When she sees the state he’s in, she understands.

He wasn’t left a choice at all.

“Buckaroo, did you really think you could work today?”

“Wasn’t that bad when I woke up,” he mumbles, and sure, she totally believes it.

The team isn’t here, they are gone on a call. She thinks about waiting for them but she does not know how long it will be before they get back, and Buck looks dejected enough as it is without having to hear about what he’s missed on the job.

“Come on, Buck. Don’t make me carry you to the car.”

“You couldn’t,” he says as he gets up.

She only raises one eyebrow at him. He squirms a little under her gaze and she has to fight off a smile.

“You could?” he asks, a little lost.

“Do you want to find out?”

Apparently he does not because he follows her down the stairs and to her car. He is half-asleep by the time they get to her house. Thankfully, neither of them have to find out if Athena truly can carry him.

.

She has to admit that Buck isn’t that bad of a patient. He mostly just lays on the couch, under an impossible amount of blankets, and either sleeps his cold off or watches TV.

These past few days on suspension have been hard on her. Solving Emmett’s murder has brought up a lot of buried memories, but she has been healing – at long last. She had bottled up her feelings for the death of her fiancé for so long that letting it out can only be a painful process.

A process nonetheless, that Athena does not have to undertake by herself.

Bobby has been her rock, of course, but not only him. Michael, Hen, her kids too – they all have been there for her in their own way and she is so grateful for it.

She can’t wait to go back to work. Working has always been a way for her to put her feelings asides for a greater cause, to feel useful and needed.

Buck groans on the couch, and her attentions shifts on him. His eyes flutter open but they don’t see her, instead focusing on nothing. His cheeks are flushed red from the fever, he looks miles away from his own body, lost, almost like a child.

“You’re alright there, Buckaroo?”

He starts lightly at the sound of her voice, his gaze finally finding her, but not seeing her.

“Mom?”

Her breath catches in her throat but then, she softens at the sight he makes, disoriented and lost, but trusting, like he knows despite the confusion of not even knowing what is happening or where he is, that he is safe.

“Not quite,” she replies softly.

“Oh, Athena.” He blinks a few times. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Let me get you some water.”

He only hums in answer, his eyes already closing again. She hurries to get him a glass and a Tylenol before he falls back asleep.

“Here, get up. Take this.”

His movements are sluggish as he gets up but he does it by himself. She puts her hand on his forehead, his fever is still high but he should be back to normal in a few days. He swallows the pill and she urges him to down the whole drink before getting the glass back.

“I’m sorry to be a burden,” Buck whispers, eyes glossy. “I don’t mean to.”

Athena is seized by the sudden need to search after every person who has ever made Buck feel like he was a burden. She has had her issues with him in the beginning, but even then, she had seen the fire in him.

Now that she knows him, she knows how deeply he loves, how bright he burns, how far he is willing to go to help, not just those he loves, but anyone who may need it. She also knows that, behind his jokes and smiles, lays a sensitive man that isn’t always sure of his worth.

She comes to sit next to him, manhandling him into laying back down and so that his head rests on her tight, the way May or Harry would when they get sick. Her hand finds itself  soothing his curls, she smiles down at his so very blue eyes, wide and fixed on her.

“You’re not a burden, Evan Buckley. You’ve never been.”

He blinks up a her. A soft, almost timid, smile appears on his lips.

“You can’t say I’m a very fun guest to have around though.”

She flicks him on the nose and laughs at his outraged reaction.

“Believe it or not,” she says, “but I was going crazy doing nothing. This is a welcomed distraction. Also, I’d rather you be here than at your place, wallowing in your own misery. At least I can keep an eye on you. We can never be sure with you that you won’t find a way to end up in the hospital – again.”

“I love you.”

His eyes widen dramatically like he never meant to say it out loud.

“I love you too, Buckaroo,” she tells him, gentle, before he can have a heart attack on her.

“Oh.”

He gives her a blinding smile, a little goofy. His eyes shine a little too bright but she won’t mention it, will blame it on the fever.

“You know,” she says, “a man your age has no business being this cute.”

He frowns, “Sorry?”

“Get back to sleep, Buck. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, eyes already closed.

In seconds, his breathing has slowed and he is fast asleep. True to her words, she does not move away, she leaves her hand in his hair and at some point, she falls asleep too.

.

“Any news from Athena?” Hen asks when they get back to the station after their last call of their shift.

“She texted me an hour ago telling me that everything is alright,” Bobby answers. “Buck’s been sleeping the day away.”

“God, I wish that were me,” Chim groans, still covered in grim from the fire they have just put out. “I’m taking a shower and then I’m out of here and you won’t hear from me for two weeks.”

“You’ve got a shift tomorrow,” Bobby reminds him, amused at his friend’s antics.

“I’m not hearing it! Bye everyone!”

They laugh as he all but runs to the showers but they are quick to follow him. Nothing crazy happened on their shift, but it was still long and exhausting and they all want to be gone from the station.

Eddie too wants nothing but to run back to his place, spend some time with Christopher before it’s time for bed, eat dinner together and maybe watch a movie.

Instead, he sends a quick text to Carla telling her he will be a little late and waits for his Captain.

“I’ll be right behind you to pick Buck up from your place.”

“He can spend the night with Athena and I,” Bobby says. “It’s not a problem.”

“Christopher will be heartbroken if I come home without his Buck.”

Eddie smiles softly as he imagines the scene. He loves how much Christopher and Buck adore each other, that’s one of the many things that made Eddie fall for Buck – how big his heart is and how selflessly he loves.

“You really love him, don’t you?” Bobby asks and Eddie knows he isn’t talking about Christopher.

“I do.”

Bobby smiles and pats Eddie on the shoulder, “I’m happy for you two. You deserve that happiness.”

“Thanks, Cap’.”

.

Both men arrive at the Grant-Nash’s household to find Buck laying on Athena’s lap. Her hand is still placed on his head, a comforting but also protective gesture.

Buck doesn’t look as flushed as he had at the firehouse, and he is wearing a small smile even in his sleep.

Neither Buck or Athena wake up at the arrival and, without even consulting one another, both Bobby and Eddie snap a picture of the scene.

It’s their quiet laughter that wake Athena up but she does not look to bothered by that fact if her soft look at the man laying on her lap is any indication.

.

Best Captain sent a picture

Queen Hen: oh my god

Queen Hen: just so you know I AM framing this

Chim-Chim-Chimney: Bobby rip.. Athena is going to murder you

No Nickname Eddie: I thought we weren’t gonna hear from you for two weeks

Chim-Chim-Chimney: blocked

.

Hen does have the best ideas.

That picture gets printed and framed by a few people.

(Buck maybe tears up a bit when he notices it sitting among pictures of May and Henry at Bobby and Athena’s place.)

[sicklylittlesnowflake]

so jughead doesn't have enough money to afford good food when he's homeless right? so what if h had to by some bad food and got food poisoning and really doesn't feel good when he's at the blue and gold with betty and archie comes to say hi andnotices and quickly gets him out of there because he knows that jughead wuldn't want betty to know he was sick then eventually archie finds out about the homelessness through 'so how did you even get sick?' or maybe Fred asks

(I’m up for anything involving the Andrews fam, anon!!

The Drive In provided Jughead with many things; for one, it enabled Jughead to surround himself with this art form that he very much adored. It also provided Jughead with a roof over his head and a bed, as well as free food once in a while. Speaking of food, the Drive In provided Jughead with money, which he had enough of to feed himself.

When the Drive In was ripped apart, quite literally, from his hands, so were all these factors and Jughead was in a bit of a dilemma.

He had saved a bit of money whilst working at the Drive In, but he felt very reluctant to buy anything. Jughead had to be smart with his money, needing it in case of an emergency and maybe to save up somehow to find him some actual shelter. With this mentality in mind, Jughead couldn’t even afford Pops.

Pop Tate had a special place in his heart for Jughead Jones, often feeding him for free and secretly looking out for him. Of course, Jughead wasn’t stupid, and he knew what was going on. So he avoided the much loved diner, and went off to see what he could afford in the nearby 7-Eleven.

Jughead had bought himself the two dollar fifty combo meal, which wasn’t exactly Gourmet French Cuisine, and not exactly Pop Tate’s delicious meals, but it was enough to keep himself from dying of starvation. He felt a little off in his stomach, but figured that he could just sleep it off.

Needless to say, the next day, he was proven very wrong.

In his dream, he had dreamt he had been in an extremely intense rollercoaster. Adrenaline rushing through his body as he was thrust up into air, and hurled downwards and in a loop the loop motion. He felt so out of control, being thrown around like that. Unfortunately the adrenaline didn’t last, and soon enough he was hit by a huge tidal wave of nausea as the ride slowed. Jughead felt dizzy and queasy, glad for it to be over when suddenly in light speed he was being thrown back up the air, turning upside down in the least pleasant way possible.

So when he woke, Jughead wanted to be relieved that it was just a dream, that it was over, but it was most certainly far from over.

The horrible nauseating feeling in his stomach was in fact very real, his stomach swirling around in a totally sickening way. Jughead gagged, clamping two hands around his mouth to keep everything in, bolting upwards and making a beeline for the school bathroom.

Thankfully, since it was 6 in the morning, no one was at the school quite yet, and as he pushed the door open, bolting towards a stall and collapsing, hunching over it. Jughead heaved, retching the contents of last night’s dinner into the toilet. He vomited for a good few minutes weakly, feeling all energy and remaining adrenaline drain out of him like a busted battery.

As he retched he became aware of the severe heat emitting off his body, a sure fever present. As he finally finished, he coughed weakly, spluttering as he sniffled pathetically. In exhaustion, he rested his pounding head against the cubicle wall, groaning in pain.

Eventually, Jughead mustered enough energy to get up off the ground and freshen up, feeling like he was about to collapse as he did so. His head hurt, and his legs were shaking, like they were about to fall apart. He could only wallow in misery as he wondered how he could possibly get through today.

Jughead knew he certainly didn’t feel well, but from the looks he was receiving from his fellow peers he was sure he didn’t look it either. The students around him when they saw him had a look of shock and sometimes worry, so Jughead knew he wasn’t doing too good.

Jughead somehow managed to drag himself over to his locker, the journey taking double the time it usually was. He felt extremely warm, but was also shivering, and he could’ve sworn he was Elsa from Frozen because his hands were ice cold. Except this time, yes, the cold bothered him anyway.

Jughead groaned, opening the compartment only to be playfully shoved by who he assumed was Reggie from the obnoxious laugh. Of course, had Reggie known or seen Jughead’s state he wouldn’t have, and it wasn’t even that hard of a shove, a friendly little hair toss included, but the sudden movement made Jughead’s head spin rapidly. Suddenly, so was his stomach and he gagged, rushing once again to a thankfully empty bathroom.

Jughead knelt down and threw up yet again, his stomach containing nothing anymore so all he could throw up was bile, burning at his throat. He spent another minute dry heaving and hacking, until he was a coughing, spluttering mess. He spat weakly, sniffling and getting up to clean himself up.

He walked towards the sink in a zombie like fashion, wetting his warm face as he popped in a two tic tacs that he had bought at the 7-eleven. As he did so, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He whipped out the device and squinted at the too bright light.

Betty Cooper: Hey Jug! Can you come to the office so we can go over this article real quick?? xx :))

Jughead shot her a reply quickly and shoved his phone back in his pocket, examining his appearance, trying to freshen up as much as possible before leaving the bathroom to see her. He sighed, not wanting her to worry about him. He loathed people pitying or worrying about him, it overwhelmed him a lot and it just felt wrong. Plus, Betty had a lot on her plate and was going through quite a bit, and he did not want to pile himself on top of that. She deserved more than that, certainly.

“Good morning Jug!” Betty beamed brightly, looking up for just a second before looking back at her computer, going over a piece.

“Morning,” Jughead managed, hoping his grogginess and exhaustion could just be passed off as his regular morning grumpy mood.

Betty chuckled, still not looking up, “Just morning?”

Jughead managed a weak smirk, lacking his usual charm and charisma, “There is no good in mornings, Elizabeth Cooper.”

She laughed, pushing her laptop so that he could see better, clearing her throat, “Anyway, so I was wondering if you think this report on the Bulldogs win is accurate and good to go?”

Jughead managed a little laugh, “You want I, Jughead Jones to review a sports article?”

Betty laughed, looking up at him for once and blinked a little, “Hmm, yes I am, Jughead ‘I stay up all night to write my emo poetry’ Jones.”

Jughead tried to hide his relief, glad he was passing off as just tired, but he was putting so much energy into this facade that he wasn’t sure if he could take it for any longer. He felt extremely sick, nauseous and now very cold, trying to suppress his shaking. His head hurt really bad, and looking at Betty’s bright computer screen did not help.

At this stage, he was honestly praying for God to send him an angel and save him.

Archie Andrews strolled down the halls of Riverdale High, feeling very accomplished and productive, having helped the Pussycats write a new song. He felt bright and alive, deciding to pop into the Blue and Gold offices to say hello to his childhood friends.

He pushed the door open, grinning, “Good morning guys!”

Betty beamed, her usual bright bubbly self, “Hey Archie!”

She nudged Jughead playfully, “See, Jug, some people have good mornings.”

Archie’s gaze drifted over to Jughead, and when he looked at him he was stunned.

Jughead looked awful; extremely pale, with a slight green tint to him, as well as obviously fevered cheeks and dark circles. His hair was a mess, and he was obviously trying to stop himself from shivering. He was so painfully sick that it took every muscle in Archie’s body not to just scoop him up and wrap him in blankets just there.

Of course, he knew Jughead would try to hide this, especially from Betty. Jughead cared a lot about her and knew she was going through some stuff, and Archie knew Jughead wanted her to take time for herself instead of worrying herself further. He also knew Jughead felt overwhelmed being coddled, because he hadn’t received that sort of attention and affection growing up and to him, it felt wrong. It made him feel upset, and didn’t know how to react to people caring about him.

However, Archie Andrews was the exception to that rule.

He cleared his throat, “Uh, I guess this is a really bad time–but I was just sent by Ms.Callahan to get Jughead because she forgot Jughead’s test yesterday and didn’t get a chance to give him it so..”

Betty shook her head, “No, that’s totally fine! Jughead gave me enough pointers for me to fix it now, he’s all yours Arch.”

Jughead blinked, giving Archie an extremely confused look, but went along with it and said his goodbyes to Betty, walking up to Archie as the boy wrapped an arm around his shoulders as they left the room.

“I know you’re sick, and that your legs are jello and you feel like you’re gonna collapse so I’m holding you without making a big deal,” Archie explained quietly, now that they were out of sight.

Jughead widened his eyes, “I’m not–!”

Archie glared at him.

Jughead sighed, “..kind of..”

Archie rolled his eyes, “I swear, Jug, you gotta stop doing this hiding your sickness thing…”

Archie seemed to be still be talking but his words began to slur and blur in Jughead’s mind, his senses beginning to heighten and then fade once again, until there was nothing. Jughead’s legs gave out, on the verge collapsing of collapsing if it weren’t for Archie’s strong arm catching him and holding him steady.

“Shit, Jug!” He could somewhat hear Archie curse, a cool hand resting on his cheek, feeling for a fever.

“Oh my god, you’re burning up..Jug, everything’s gonna be okay, I promise, hang on for just a little..”

Jughead woke up to a blinding light, head still hurting like hell. His face was pressed against a crisp, clean pillow that was clearly freshly laundered, and a blanket with similar features was draped over his entire frame. He sniffled softly, letting out a small groan as he regained his consciousness.

“I’m sorry for bothering you, Mr Andrews, but Mr Jones’s phone seems to be disconnected and we don’t have a contact for Mrs Jones..but Archibald here says you’re close family friends and when I checked records you’re the emergency contact when the parents aren’t available?”

“Yes, that’s correct. It’s definitely not a bother, Jughead will never be a bother for me. Is he okay?”

“He’s–Forsythe!” The nurse exclaimed as Jughead limped over to them, looking like a ghost. Sick as a dog and pasty white.

Jughead rubbed at his nose weakly, voice croaky and weak, “I’m fine.”

“The hell you are!” Archie protested, crossing his arms as he took in his ghastly appearance.

“Archie, I’m–” A sudden wave of nausea hit him, everything going dark and reverting back to a painful light, and suddenly his knees were buckling and Archie was frantically rushing to catch him.

Archie raised an eyebrow at him judgingly, as if to rub it in his face that he was wrong all along, but there was no actual harshness to his look, the look clearly stemming off of concern. Jughead rolled his eyes back.

“Don’t let this get to your head Prince Charming,” He joked, allowing Archie to help him stand upright. Archie lead him back to the bed and dropped him so he could lie down, and the Nurse and Fred followed suit.

“Jughead, how do you feel, truthfully?”

Jughead sighed, “not too good.”

“Hmm,” The nurse commented, “You’ve got a pretty outstanding fever–have you gotten sick today?”

Archie’s look of complete concern made Jughead anxious to say anything, afraid that his current situation would be outed. He cleared his throat, trying to omit as much as he could, “..Yes.”

She nodded and scribbled something on her clipboard, “How many times?”

Jughead felt a gush of anxiety rush through him, beginning to twirl his hair nervously, “..Uh..twice.”

“When?”

Jughead picked his words carefully, “When I woke up and when I went to my locker.”

“Did your mom or dad know?”

Jughead froze, swallowing anxiously as he tried to avoid anyone’s gaze, “No.”

Fred grew a little suspicious, a horrible feeling brewing in his chest that something wasn’t quite right. He hoped against everything that he was wrong.

“Hmm, okay. You really shouldn’t hide your illnesses, sweetheart. It’s okay to be sick,” She reassured gently.

Jughead didn’t know how to react, her questions growing more and more interrogating and he feared the shame he would feel should anyone find out what was going on. He simply nodded, his free hand that wasn’t twiddling about with his hair grasping at the sheets, to which Archie suspiciously stared at.

“Where are your parents right now, sweetie?”

Jughead wasn’t sure if he was just extremely lucky or his anxiety had gotten the better of him, but a wave of intense nausea hit him then, his stomach spinning and whirling. He gagged, clamping a hand over his mouth as he rushed to the bathroom to throw up. He was almost glad that it had happened, to get him out of this horrible situation.

As he threw up bile that scraped his throat, he felt a comforting hand rubbing his back soothingly.

“You’re okay dude,” Archie whispered softly as he continued to rub his back gently, patting him as Jughead coughed weakly, spluttering.

When they both returned, Jughead pressed to Archie’s side, Fred cleared his throat.

“I’ll take Jughead home for now, miss, what medicine would you recommend for his food poisoning?”

The nurse nodded, “Here, you can take some of the ones we have here. Just monitor the fever and keep him as hydrated as possible.”

Jughead coughed, “Mr Andrews, please don’t–”

“It’s not a problem, Jug,” Fred pressed, firm and with a tone no room to argue with, but a hint of worry and care laced in his voice.

Soon enough, Jughead was being ushered into Fred’s truck by Archie.

“Archie, you shouldn’t have to miss school because of me–”

“Shh dude!! I wanna get out of school, I’m totally using you as an excuse!” Archie whispered jokingly, punching him weakly on the shoulder.

Jughead rolled his eyes fondly, still worried for the sure conversation about his parents that was going to happen. He was so lost in trying to figure out something to say without outing himself that he barely noticed Archie strapping his seatbelt for him.

Jughead rolled his eyes, “I’m sick, Archie, not dying.”

Archie glared, “Then don’t collapse and act like it.”

Fred climbed into the Driver’s seat, inserting his keys into the old but much loved vehicle, as it began to start up. Once it had, Fred began to drive out of the school parking lot, watching the two boys from the rear view mirror. He couldn’t quite help the unsettling feeling in his chest.

He cleared his throat, “So Jug, how’d you get sick anyway?”

Jughead looked nervous, “Just ate too much probably. You know me..”

“But this never happens,” Archie piped up.

“..Must’ve been unlucky I guess! Probably some bad food..”

“..Really? Gladys is a lovely cook.”

Sadness and hurt flickered in Jughead’s eyes as he remembered the pain his mother had inflicted on him by her departure. He swallowed, voice cracking very slightly, “I guess it wasn’t her food, some other kind.”

Fred sighed, too anxious for stalling, deciding to get straight to the point. “Jughead, where are your parents?”

Jughead’s face was perfectly blank, a blank sheet of paper.

Then it crumpled.

Jughead burst into tears, way too overwhelmed by his sickness and by this situation, tears of shame, misery and illness spilling onto his cheeks.

“Oh shit, Jughead,” Fred cursed as he pulled over, just a few more metres from their house.

Archie widened his eyes, “What’s wrong bud?”

Jughead fiercely tried to wipe away his tears, but as he wiped away more would just come. He hated how pathetic he was being, and tried his best to stop his sobbing but all it did was making him sound more stupid.

“I have no clue where my mom or Jellybean is, okay? I haven’t seen them in 5 months, and my dad..my dads not doing too good right now and I know he loves me but I can’t stay in the trailer, I can’t–it hurts too much, it feels so empty and horrible and now that the Drive In’s gone I don’t even have a bed but I can’t go back I can’t–” Jughead cried feverishly, until Archie cut him off with a giant hug, shushing him gently. He pressed his face into Archie’s chest, clinging onto his arm and crying, trying to catch his breath.

“You’re going to be just fine, Jug, I promise. I’m never going to let you feel that way again, okay? I’m going to feed you so much good food and fill all the empty spaces and make you feel good again, okay? I will do everything I can,” Archie reassured gently, playing with his hair.

Fred nodded, smiling softly, “..You just need some rest, Jug, in a proper home.”