911/911 Lone Star One Shots

I Really Don't Feel Good

Buck barely made it to the kitchen after showering, dropping to a stool and laying his head on his folded arms. He'd been sluggish and feeling off all shift, but after the last call he really felt awful. He hadn't wanted to admit it but he was afraid there was no hiding that he was sick now.

Bobby immediately grew concerned, setting down the knife he'd been using to chop vegetables and wiping his hands on his apron. He quickly walked around the counter and laid his hand on Buck's cheek.

"You're warm." He informed him, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. "What's wrong? What hurts?"

Buck leaned into his touch, his eyes barely staying open. "Everything."

Bobby guided his head upright and placed his hands on the sides of his neck, feeling for his lymph nodes. "Swollen lymph nodes, too. I'd send you home but you don't look like you could walk to the couch, let alone drive yourself home."

Buck simply groaned, moving his arms to wrap around his stomach and letting his head fall to the cool countertop.

Bobby sighed softly and rubbed his back gently before going back to work on cooking dinner. At least he'd be able to watch him while he cooked.

Almost a half hour later, Eddie, Hen, and Chim walked upstairs. It only took one look at his best friend's slumped form for Eddie to know something was wrong.

"Buck...?" Eddie's voice was suspicious and filled with concern.

Bobby shushed the group as he took dinner out of the oven, gesturing that Buck was asleep.

The three trained paramedics quietly approached Buck, studying him carefully. Eddie placed a soft hand against the back of his neck and felt a fever.

"I think it's the flu." Bobby told them his theory as he took the dish of Mac and cheese to the table. "Couldn't send him home alone like this."

Buck stirred, turning his head to the side and opening his eyes to reveal a worried Chimney sitting beside him.

"Hey buddy." Chim laid a hand on his forehead. "How're you feeling?"

"Horrible." He mumbled quietly, closing his eyes as his head throbbed painfully.

"Sit up, you need to drink." Eddie guided him upright with a hand on his shoulder as Hen placed an open bottle of Gatorade in front of him.

"I got you your favorite flavor, Buckaroo." Hen smiled as him, gesturing towards the orange Gatorade on the counter.

Buck begrudgingly took a small sip of the drink before setting it back down. He leaned into Chimney on the stool beside him. "Am I dying, Chim?"

Chim gave him a smile, hugging him and rubbing his arm reassuringly. "No way, pal. You're gonna be alright."

Buck groaned again, closing his eyes before he was being pulled upright once more. "What now?" He whined, opening his eyes to see Hen with her medical kit beside him. He knew it was Eddie holding him upright.

Hen took his vitals and asked him questions that Buck answered shortly before sighing. "Sounds like the flu."

"Dinner's ready. You guys go eat, I'll make Buck something that'll be easy on his stomach." Bobby stepped into Dad-mode with ease. "How's some rice sound?" He asked Buck, who was leaning his head on his hand.

"Only if it's salty." He stipulated as the three paramedics reluctantly left his side.

"I will make it salty." Bobby assured him with a smile as he pulled the rice from the cupboard.

"Like saltier than Chim when I beat him in Scrabble." He muttered, the group laughing behind him.

"Hey, sick or not, you better watch it." Chimney joked from the table.