Sick! (Peter, Aly, Kidlets)
Lydia entered her parents' room just in time to see her father bend over in a fit of coughing, which looked like it was rather uncomfortable. She leaned against the wall with a worried look on her face while Peter proceeded to cough so hard it sounded like he was going to lose a lung.
Thankfully for both of them, he did not. Peter put his hands on his chest when the coughing subsided, and he took several deep breaths to try to calm himself.
"Dad?"
"AUGH!" Peter looked up in alarm in time to see Lydia jump violently at his panicked scream. "I'm sorry!" Peter said quickly, his heart pounding against his ribs. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you!" He breathed out, his hand still on his chest. That nearly made him cough again, but he managed to control it though he was fairly sure there was some crackling going on in his lungs.
Lydia smiled, though the expression was slightly wary. "Are you alright, Dad? You sounded like you've been smoking for..." Lydia narrowed her eyes at him. "Dad! Have you been smoking!?"
A hangdog expression took over Peter's face and he sighed. "Only last week..." Last week when he had been a captive and it seemed like the least of his worries.
"You are a bad boy!" she said, wiggling her finger at him. "If you get cancer again, I reckon they'll rename it 'having the Peters'."
"Har har," Peter said, but he was smiling at her. "Just you follow your own advice and nevermind what your silly father does." The truth was he wasn't a regular smoker. Not at all. He wasn't even addicted, despite having quite the addictive personality. He was an alcoholic, and he smoked at times to reduce the cravings when things were stressful. It was still stupid and he furiously hoped none of his children would follow in his example. It wasn't the best one he could be setting...
"You should thank your lucky stars I have a mind of my own," Lydia said, preening.
"I always do," Peter replied honestly. "And what is your incredible mind up to at the moment?"
Lydia shrugged. "What'cha doin'?"
"Well I was about to go downstairs to see what you lot were doing, but then I had the coughing fit."
"Should I get Mum?" Lydia asked, the hint of worry still very much present in her voice. "Because I don't remember how to do Cardio-Pulmonosy Resussathing."
Peter's expression softened and he rose so he could cross the room. Once beside her, he kissed her head and he glanced towards the door. "I don't quite need any Resussathinging at the moment. Where is Mum? Is she hiding from me because I sound like her Great Uncle Andres?"
Lydia, who remembered Andres far too well, giggled. He had been the 80-year-old man who insisted Lydia sit on his lap while he told story after story in Spanish and coughed so hard it sounded like the world was ending. Lydia didn't even speak Spanish, but from what Aly said, Andres' stories were more enjoyable when you couldn't understand them. "No! She's downstairs because Lauren's being annoying."
"Lydia, be nice," Peter chided. Lauren wasn't even two years old yet, but she got a bad rap because she spent most of her time screaming or pouting. She was not the happiest child in the world by a long shot. "I wonder why she didn't come get me."
"Because you sound like her Great Uncle Andres?" Lydia suggested with a grin.
Peter laughed, which produced another bout of coughing. He winced and gave Lydia an apologetic look. "Sorry. That sounds hideous."
"That's what happens when you smoke, Chimney!" Lydia flounced away, leading him down the several flights of stairs it took to get to the living room. She made sure to go slow, so she didn't get too far ahead of him. It wouldn't do to leave him behind and discover later that he had had some kind of terrible stairs accident.
Upon arriving in the living room, Lydia danced up to Aly and she pointed back at Peter. "He sounds like Andres."
Aly gave Peter a worried glance and she shifted Lauren onto her hip. The tiny girl had stopped crying, but her face was puffy and red and she looked miserable. "What's wrong, Peter?"
"Just a cough," Peter said, waving it away. "I'm sure it's nothing."
Aly's expression was scrutinising, but when Anna and Caleb darted through the living room, followed by the rather large dalmation, Cardinal Sin, Aly had other pressing issues to deal with. "No running in the house! Take Sinny outside!"
Caleb laughed and he and Anna went to do as Aly asked. Not, however, before Sinny's tail had swept several magazines from the coffee table to the floor. Aly gave Peter a look which clearly said, 'why do we have so many again?' which he answered by wiggling his eyebrows. Aly laughed and Lydia gave them a dubious look.
"Whatever you just said with your eyes, it was gross," she informed them. "And he still sounds sick." Lydia left them then, headed into the kitchen to get herself something to drink.
Peter settled down on the sofa, pulling an uncharacteristically quiet Baby Thomas with him. Thomas cuddled against Peter the second he was sitting down and Peter wrapped his arms around his son. "I think this one's about to conk out. What around the princess?"
Aly looked at Lauren, who was on the verge of tears. That was, however, a normal state. "She's tired, but who knows if I can get her to sleep. William is already out upstairs. Peter, if you're sick maybe you shouldn't have small children on you."
"I feel fine," Peter lied. The truth was, he felt ill and run-down, but that was the way he'd been feeling since getting home. It was normal. He didn't seem to have an appetite today, which was worrying. He hadn't gained any weight back and he was still looking dreadful, but he couldn't be bothered worrying about it. "And I like the cuddles."
Aly watched them, a quiet smile on her face. "He is such a daddy's boy. He missed you while you were gone. Mama said he was demanding 'dada' and screamed when they didn't produce you."
"Poor kid..." Peter kissed his son's head and he ruffled Thomas' fluffy hair. "He really is sinking like a stone." Thomas was drifting off to sleep on Peter's chest. "I'll put him to bed in a moment." He raised his gaze to meet Aly's worried one. "Honey, I'm fine."
"You look sick," she protested.
"I don't think there's any way I could avoid that right now. Please, don't worry."
"That's my job, Peter." Aly swayed from side to side to keep Lauren from screaming again. "If you're still coughing tomorrow?"
"Alright," Peter nodded, giving in. He would never win anyway, and Aly did have a point. "I'll go in to see Ken if I'm coughing tomorrow. I should probably stop avoiding the hospital anyway. I'm just afraid if I go back, they'll make me stay there."
"Peter, it's your hospital. I think you'll be safe. Anyway, if they give you a clean bill of health, I can think of many ways to celebrate..."
Peter, who had done absolutely no celebrating since being taken from London by a group of crazy fundies, smiled at that. "I can go today!" he said with a grin.
Aly snickered at him and she blew him a kiss. "All of a sudden you're very cooperative! I think it's a good idea, Peter."
"Alright. Let me help you put these two to bed and then I'll head in. But I am doing so under protest."
"Oh, I'm sure," Aly teased him. "Hopefully everything will be just fine."
Thankfully for both of them, he did not. Peter put his hands on his chest when the coughing subsided, and he took several deep breaths to try to calm himself.
"Dad?"
"AUGH!" Peter looked up in alarm in time to see Lydia jump violently at his panicked scream. "I'm sorry!" Peter said quickly, his heart pounding against his ribs. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you!" He breathed out, his hand still on his chest. That nearly made him cough again, but he managed to control it though he was fairly sure there was some crackling going on in his lungs.
Lydia smiled, though the expression was slightly wary. "Are you alright, Dad? You sounded like you've been smoking for..." Lydia narrowed her eyes at him. "Dad! Have you been smoking!?"
A hangdog expression took over Peter's face and he sighed. "Only last week..." Last week when he had been a captive and it seemed like the least of his worries.
"You are a bad boy!" she said, wiggling her finger at him. "If you get cancer again, I reckon they'll rename it 'having the Peters'."
"Har har," Peter said, but he was smiling at her. "Just you follow your own advice and nevermind what your silly father does." The truth was he wasn't a regular smoker. Not at all. He wasn't even addicted, despite having quite the addictive personality. He was an alcoholic, and he smoked at times to reduce the cravings when things were stressful. It was still stupid and he furiously hoped none of his children would follow in his example. It wasn't the best one he could be setting...
"You should thank your lucky stars I have a mind of my own," Lydia said, preening.
"I always do," Peter replied honestly. "And what is your incredible mind up to at the moment?"
Lydia shrugged. "What'cha doin'?"
"Well I was about to go downstairs to see what you lot were doing, but then I had the coughing fit."
"Should I get Mum?" Lydia asked, the hint of worry still very much present in her voice. "Because I don't remember how to do Cardio-Pulmonosy Resussathing."
Peter's expression softened and he rose so he could cross the room. Once beside her, he kissed her head and he glanced towards the door. "I don't quite need any Resussathinging at the moment. Where is Mum? Is she hiding from me because I sound like her Great Uncle Andres?"
Lydia, who remembered Andres far too well, giggled. He had been the 80-year-old man who insisted Lydia sit on his lap while he told story after story in Spanish and coughed so hard it sounded like the world was ending. Lydia didn't even speak Spanish, but from what Aly said, Andres' stories were more enjoyable when you couldn't understand them. "No! She's downstairs because Lauren's being annoying."
"Lydia, be nice," Peter chided. Lauren wasn't even two years old yet, but she got a bad rap because she spent most of her time screaming or pouting. She was not the happiest child in the world by a long shot. "I wonder why she didn't come get me."
"Because you sound like her Great Uncle Andres?" Lydia suggested with a grin.
Peter laughed, which produced another bout of coughing. He winced and gave Lydia an apologetic look. "Sorry. That sounds hideous."
"That's what happens when you smoke, Chimney!" Lydia flounced away, leading him down the several flights of stairs it took to get to the living room. She made sure to go slow, so she didn't get too far ahead of him. It wouldn't do to leave him behind and discover later that he had had some kind of terrible stairs accident.
Upon arriving in the living room, Lydia danced up to Aly and she pointed back at Peter. "He sounds like Andres."
Aly gave Peter a worried glance and she shifted Lauren onto her hip. The tiny girl had stopped crying, but her face was puffy and red and she looked miserable. "What's wrong, Peter?"
"Just a cough," Peter said, waving it away. "I'm sure it's nothing."
Aly's expression was scrutinising, but when Anna and Caleb darted through the living room, followed by the rather large dalmation, Cardinal Sin, Aly had other pressing issues to deal with. "No running in the house! Take Sinny outside!"
Caleb laughed and he and Anna went to do as Aly asked. Not, however, before Sinny's tail had swept several magazines from the coffee table to the floor. Aly gave Peter a look which clearly said, 'why do we have so many again?' which he answered by wiggling his eyebrows. Aly laughed and Lydia gave them a dubious look.
"Whatever you just said with your eyes, it was gross," she informed them. "And he still sounds sick." Lydia left them then, headed into the kitchen to get herself something to drink.
Peter settled down on the sofa, pulling an uncharacteristically quiet Baby Thomas with him. Thomas cuddled against Peter the second he was sitting down and Peter wrapped his arms around his son. "I think this one's about to conk out. What around the princess?"
Aly looked at Lauren, who was on the verge of tears. That was, however, a normal state. "She's tired, but who knows if I can get her to sleep. William is already out upstairs. Peter, if you're sick maybe you shouldn't have small children on you."
"I feel fine," Peter lied. The truth was, he felt ill and run-down, but that was the way he'd been feeling since getting home. It was normal. He didn't seem to have an appetite today, which was worrying. He hadn't gained any weight back and he was still looking dreadful, but he couldn't be bothered worrying about it. "And I like the cuddles."
Aly watched them, a quiet smile on her face. "He is such a daddy's boy. He missed you while you were gone. Mama said he was demanding 'dada' and screamed when they didn't produce you."
"Poor kid..." Peter kissed his son's head and he ruffled Thomas' fluffy hair. "He really is sinking like a stone." Thomas was drifting off to sleep on Peter's chest. "I'll put him to bed in a moment." He raised his gaze to meet Aly's worried one. "Honey, I'm fine."
"You look sick," she protested.
"I don't think there's any way I could avoid that right now. Please, don't worry."
"That's my job, Peter." Aly swayed from side to side to keep Lauren from screaming again. "If you're still coughing tomorrow?"
"Alright," Peter nodded, giving in. He would never win anyway, and Aly did have a point. "I'll go in to see Ken if I'm coughing tomorrow. I should probably stop avoiding the hospital anyway. I'm just afraid if I go back, they'll make me stay there."
"Peter, it's your hospital. I think you'll be safe. Anyway, if they give you a clean bill of health, I can think of many ways to celebrate..."
Peter, who had done absolutely no celebrating since being taken from London by a group of crazy fundies, smiled at that. "I can go today!" he said with a grin.
Aly snickered at him and she blew him a kiss. "All of a sudden you're very cooperative! I think it's a good idea, Peter."
"Alright. Let me help you put these two to bed and then I'll head in. But I am doing so under protest."
"Oh, I'm sure," Aly teased him. "Hopefully everything will be just fine."