The moment the bell rang to end the school day, Palette raced out of the room and through the hallways. Ignoring the hall monitor yelling for him to slow down, he blew past the double doors leading outside and leapt over the staircase completely.

He continued his breakneck pace out the school gates and down the sidewalk, his scarf fluttering wildly behind him as he dodged the groups of startled people and monsters heading home. He didn't slow down until he came upon his destination. Racing up the porch of Goth's house, pausing only to catch his breath, he rapped on the door; there was no reply.

"Goth?" he yelled, knocking a little harder this time; still no reply. As he lifted his hand to knock again, he heard the faint sound of a deadbolt turning. A moment later, the door slid open and a faded eye light met his starry ones.

"... Palette...? What're you doing here?" Goth asked; his voice sounded heavy from sleep as he pulled the door open wider.

"Making sure you're okay; you didn't come to school," the taller replied, taking in his friend's appearance. Goth was dressed in a grey hoodie and black sweatpants, though the hood did nothing to hide his ashen complexion, flushed cheeks, and sunken eye sockets holding an unfocused and hazy eye light. His trembling hands were gripping the door frame and knob, likely using them to maintain balance, and his breathing was coming out in short huffs. A small part of Palette's mind noted their signature red scarf was missing; it was weird to see the smaller monster without it.

Looking past Goth into the house, he heard the television, but the living room was empty and devoid of any other sound or movement. "Where's Mister Geno and Mister Reaper?" Palette asked, tilting his skull to the side, "You look sick; usually, this kind of thing would send your mom into panic mode."

Now that he really thought about it, Goth didn't get sick very often... but the few times he had seen them get sick, it hit them pretty hard and had them laid out all day.

"Mom... he went to the store, uhh... about an hour ago...? He said we're out of chicken stock... 'n Dad's at work...," Goth replied, his eye light cast downward and his face scrunched up in thought; it was as if remembering the information was taking physical effort.

"Well, that's no good," Kicking off his boots and setting his bag down, Palette closed the door, "someone needs to be here to look out for you!"

"You don't have t-"

"Nonsense," Palette interrupted, wrapping an arm around the sick skeleton's shoulder and leading the way to the couch; the lack of resistance as Goth stumbled along combined with the heat radiating off their body only solidified his resolve further. Pulling out his phone to text his mom once he had safely deposited his friend on the couch, he continued "What kind of monster would I be if I left you here on your own, knowing you didn't feel good? You look like you're barely able to stand; what if something happens? Plus, it's more fun having company, right?"

It was also probably his fault that Goth was sick in the first place, but he thought better of himself than to mention that.

"Yeah...," Goth answered with a resigned sigh and a slight nod, sinking into the couch cushions as Palette sat down and turned to the television; it was playing some cartoon with a short, curly-haired human wielding a pink shield.

After a few minutes of silently watching the cartoon, a faint whistling sound started up; when it rose in volume, he looked toward the smaller in askance.

"The kettle... mom recommended tea earlier... the water must be ready," Goth answered slowly, pushing himself to get off the couch. He barely made it one step before he started wobbling. Palette reached out to catch him as he crumpled forward with a soft grunt. Placing them back on the couch, he got up and headed for the kitchen, "I'll get it, you wait here."

Goth didn't protest, groaning softly without even bothering to open his sockets; how had he managed to make it to the door in this state?

Palette frowned and guilt pricked at his soul as he turned toward the kitchen, spotting the kettle screaming on the stove when he walked in. Luckily, it looked like everything else had already been set out on the counter; he only had to pour the water into a green cup and put in a teabag labeled 'White Tea' on the tag. Bringing the cup back out, he handed it to Goth, receiving a quiet 'Thank you' in return. Taking a small sip, the skeleton cringed.

"What's wrong?" Palette hovered in concern.

Goth stuck out his tongue and muttered, "Bitter... needs honey."

With his nerves settled, Palette let out a small snort and got up to retrieve the honey. As he returned, a thought came to him, "Hey, if Mister Geno had to go to the store, what's taking him so long; can't he teleport?"

"Oh, um...," his question received a blush, "he doesn't do that anymore... the last time... when he was in a hurry... it caused a small riot. Swat got involved... someone phoning the police about a 'crazy monster'... now he drives the car instead."

Palette laughed at the absurd explanation. "It's not funny," Goth huffed while grabbing the honey and squeezing it into the steaming cup with some effort, though he was trying to hide a tired smile of his own, "police had to bring mom home... once they sorted everything out."

"Humans are weird," the giddy skeleton wiped a tear from his eye socket. Goth hummed in agreement before they went back to watching cartoons in comfortable silence, save for only the occasional sounds of tea being sipped, coughing, and the clock ticking on the wall.

At some point, Palette's right arm had draped itself across the back of the couch. He had been zoning out on the latest cartoon, one following the daily life of three bears, when a warm weight fell into his right side. Looking down revealed Goth tucked into the crook of his shoulder, and a blush burned onto the startled monster's face.

"Goth?!" he sputtered. A single dazed eye light glanced up at him questioningly. His blush deepened; how could Goth look so cute?

Oh, I... I zoned out, I guess... 'm sorry...," Goth murmured, eventually figuring out why his companion had reacted.

As he pulled away, Palette quickly stammered, "No! It's fine. If you're feeling tired, you should rest; I don't mind at all." Staring at him for a moment, Goth mumbled out a drowsy 'Thank you' before easing back into place. Before long, his breathing slowly evened out as sleep took over.

Careful not to wake his friend, Palette plucked the empty cup from Goth's limp hands and set it on the table. It was getting late and he was sick, it only made sense that he would feel sleepy; admittedly, it was a bit of a surprise he managed to stay awake as long as he did.

Lowering the volume on the television for good measure, Palette settled in and let his mind wander...

---

"Honey, I'm-!" Geno burst through the door, grocery bags in his left hand... only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of his son and Palette sleeping on the couch with only the light of the television and a fading sunset illuminating the room. Goth was snuggled into his companion's right side while the taller skeleton had his right arm wrapped around them, his skull lolling against the back of the couch while he snored softly.

Suppressing a squeal, Geno pulled out his phone to snap a quick picture. Then he texted Dream to make sure it was alright for Palette to stay the night while walking over to the closet to retrieve a blanket... it would be a shame to wake the sleeping couple, after all.

***

Word Count: 1,349