#strider issues

Honestly, Dave probably wouldn't have noticed if Dirk hadn't taken a header straight into the wall next to his bedroom door. The fact that he hadn't gotten a response when he'd yelled at whoever had kicked the door had had him up and investigating, and the sight of his (sort of?) bro curled up in a shivering heap on the floor almost gave him a fucking heart attack.

When he reached down to shake Dirk awake and got no response he really started worrying. (After all, being awake in one body or another for literal years was shit for being able to fall asleep and stay asleep, especially when there was outside stimuli.)

So of course, as soon as he dumped Dirk on the couch, Dave turned to the person who knew everything.

"What on earth makes you think I know how to take care of sick people?" Rose demanded, her tone crisply irritated, "Mother would simply take me to the doctor, after which I would sequester myself in my room until I was no longer virulent."

"But how the hell'm I gonna get him to a doctor?" Dave asked, peering over the back of the couch to the pile of blankets he'd dumped on Dirk. "He's not waking up, and the last time someone he wasn't expecting woke him up, Dirk nearly gave him a fucking Just death."

Dirk's sunglasses were on the coffee table. Dave could see his whole face, relaxed in sleep and unusually flushed and it was fucking unnerving.

"John?" Rose asked, and Dave made a distracted noise of assent.

"Actually," Rose hummed thoughtfully, "John might be your best bet. Or Jane. Out of all of us, they do have the most conventional upbringing."

"Jane dealt with assassins on a regular basis." Dave pointed out, his voice flat, and Rose sighed.

"Nevertheless, choose one and call them, or take Dirk to a doctor." And with that helpful advice, Rose hung up.

"Thanks loads, sis." Dave deadpanned to his silent phone, then sighed and called Prankster twin number one.

In the end, Dave couldn't decide whether calling John was a mistake or not. On the one hand, John bullied him into getting on skype and starting a video call. On the other, Jane joined in as soon as she heard, and between the two of them bullied Dave into actually making a passable (read; not out of a can) chicken soup.

Of course, that was on top of the enormous list of things they told him to either buy, look out for, or make happen. How Dave was supposed to make sure Dirk's temperature didn't get too high, he didn't know, but stripping his brother and sticking him in an ice bath was right the fuck out.

A quick look around the internet told him that ice packs and wet washcloths would work too, so Dave wrapped every single package of 'I bruised the shit out of myself' freezer vegetables in towels and tucked them around Dirk, then grabbed a pot, filled it with cold water, stuck a couple of rags in it, and set up camp next to the couch.

Which is right about when Skype started ringing, with Jake and Roxy both demanding a chance to see Dirk and make sure he wasn't dead with their own two eyes. The fact that their voices didn't even make Dirk twitch had them both paling, and suddenly Dave had company, chatting quietly with him as he made sure that the rags were kept cool and that the not-so-frozen-vegetables were moved around regularly.

It took a while, but eventually Dave was pretty sure the fever was down enough that he could stick the veggies back in the freezer, but when he tried to get Roxy and Jake to go to bed, they shouted him down, insisting that they could keep him company at least until Dirk was 'done being an enormous lazy bones' and could apologize for worrying them. All he could really do was agree, wrap his fingers around Dirk's wrist so that he could feel his brother's pulse, and let their quiet chatter wash over him.

It was... Oddly relaxing.

Giggling filtered it's way into his conscious mind, and for a moment he tensed, ready for some prank or another, before the odd, tinny tone made him relax. That's right. Roxy'd been online. That was all right then... 

"Know you're 'wake, bro." The raspy, slurred voice came from over his shoulder, and Dave twitched, his head snapping around to look at Dirk.

If he'd thought that Dirk's sleeping face was unnerving, then seeing golden orange eyes dead on, still bleary with sleep, was fucking terrifying. 

Dave did not see Bro's eyes. 

Ever.

"Hey Dirk," Dave managed, and fumbled one hand up to reach for the thermometer, "you look like shit, dude."

Dirk scoffed quietly, his eyes flickering over to the computer screen, then back to Dave's face almost hungrily. "Like you're one to fucking talk."

"Hey man," Dave protested, "I look like shit 'cause I was taking care of your pathetic ass. Stick this in your mouth and don't take it out 'till it beeps."

Dirk fumbled the thermometer, but managed to get it under his tongue, arching on eyebrow at Dave, who ignored it.

"Well chaps, it looks like our Dirk is well on the road to recovery!" Jake cheered, "So now I'm off to get some shuteye before Jade decides to administer a little home remedy to make sure I sleep!"

"Me too," Roxy agreed, "Except the Jade bit. Mo-Rose might be kinda ticked too, though, so g'night Di-Stri!”

Dave and Dirk waved them off, one too busy yawning to say anything, and the other too busy trying not to drop the thermometer as skype went dark.

"101.4" Dirk announced quietly once it beeped, and Dave hummed.

"Better than it was." He judged, "You want anything? Orange juice? Soup? The Egderps proper schoolfed me on how to make it."

Dirk laughed quietly, a sound so completely out of character for him that Dave was struck speechless, but shook his head. "I'm good. Thanks."

For a moment, Dave was tempted to ask what for, but the small, contented smile on Dirk's face dissuaded him, and eventually he just relaxed back against the couch, leaning his head back to rest on the seat.

"No problem."