Bandom Short Story Collection (Fanfiction)

Sick Sister (Brother!Pete)

"Then you'll come to work with me," he suggested, "I'm not going to leave you alone like this."

You had a fever and felt absolutely miserable. Usually you would joke about how you wouldn't want to spend one second longer with him than you had to, but right now you need your brother. Truth be heard, you really didn't want to be alone either. You were constantly on the edge of vomiting and your body refused to eat. You weren't sure if you would be okay on your own.

"I guess," you caved and Pete gave you a satisfied smile. He threw his arm over your shoulder.

"You can just stay in your sweats and get comfy, okay?" He tells you and you nod. "Hopefully you can sleep a little too."

You're in and out of sleep as Pete drives to their manager's office. You hear him on the phone and you assume it's probably Patrick.

"Yeah, I'm bringing her with me," He said, "I don't want to leave her alone." After a few minutes, the car comes to a stop and you stir.

"The nap help?" Pete asked. You actually felt a little worse, but you don't want to worry him. You just nod instead. "Good," he stated.

You both walk into the small conference room. The rest of the band was there, along with a couple people from the management team. Various greetings came from them.

They had obviously already been briefed on how you were tagging along because you're sick. Andy asked how you were feeling and Patrick gave you well wishes.

There were a couple of lounge chairs in the corner so you curled up in one and drifted off. Pete kept looking over and checking on you from where he sat at the table. You really didn't look good and he couldn't help but feel uneasy, so he kept an eye on you.

You have no idea how much time was passing, but you were waking up periodically. Each time you open your eyes, you see the boys sitting around the table chatting and discussing their upcoming plans. You feel worse every time, but you would just close your eyes and will yourself back to sleep. You prayed it would help. It didn't.

Your eyes flew open and a feeling of burning heat poured over your body. You know you need to get to the bathroom to throw up. It was right across the hall, but you weren't sure if you would make it in time once you sat up. Pete's attention was elsewhere and you feel too embarrassed to call for his help. You hoped you could just make a quiet exit.

You feel the dread climbing and you know it's now or never.

You fling yourself to your feet and Pete's head snaps to look in your direction.

"Y/n?" He called, but you were too busy trying to walk to respond. You weren't sure you would make it to the door, let alone the bathroom. You see a trash bin and make that plan B. Pete pushes chair away from the table and starts to stand up, ready to act if needed.

Suddenly you couldn't see the trash bin anymore–you couldn't see anything at all. Your vision had blacked over and you slow to a near stop, becoming uncoordinated. Pete saw the look on your face and starts to walk towards you.

"Y/n?" He asked.

You don't say anything, you just try to step forward towards the sound of his voice but your knees give out completely and you drop down. You are plummeting face-first to the ground and the air was sucked out of the room. Pete darts forward.

"Whoa!" Pete blurted as he essentially dives, managing to catch you underneath your arms and preventing your torso and head from reaching the floor. Everyone was out of their seats.