Why Don't We Sickfics

Corbyn- flu bug

The boys are in their LA house in this
>•DORBYN•<

Daniel's  POV
"Dan, can you please go wake up Corbyn?" Jonah asked from the kitchen. I groan, but get up from the couch.

It was a Saturday, and we had the day off, thank god. It was almost 11:30, and Corbyn was still sleeping.

I mean, I love Corbyn, but nobody should ever wake him up. We've noticed that the only one he doesn't kill when he wakes up, is me.

I walk up the stairs, to Corbyn's closed door. I knock and wait.

"Corbyn, baby, time to get up." I call through the door, knocking again. I didn't hear him in the room, so I open the door carefully.

He wasn't in his room, but his bathroom door was closed, so I walk over and knock on that door.

"D-Don't come in." Corbyn says from the other side.

I frown. "Why not?"

"Just don-" Corbyn's voice gets cut off by retching.

"Yeah I'm coming in." I say, opening the door. I immediately regret it, the sight making my heart break.

Corbyn was on his knees in front of the toilet, his head basically submerged. The smell was revolting, and I realize why he didn't want me in there.

I couldn't do well with any type of body fluid, including blood and vomit. If I was near it, I'd end up hurling. And of course, then I started feeling queasy.

Corbyn sat back from the toilet, tears running down his beautiful face. His eyes were red, and his cheeks were flushed. Aside from his cheeks, Corbyn was pale as a sheet.

My nausea vanished after seeing my baby like that.

"Corbyn! How long have you been like this?" I ask, immediately at his side.

"Since 4:30." His voice was broken, crackly and raspy from vomiting.

"4:30?! Why didn't you wake someone up?!" I say, louder than it was meant to be.

I immediately regret shouting when I see Corbyn's bottom lip start quivering.

"I'm sorry." He buried his face in his hands, curled up next to the wall for support. His body shook with sobs, and I felt horrible. Obviously he was sick, and I just had to do the one thing that makes him cry; yell at him.

Shit.

"No, Corby! Don't cry!" I say, sitting on the floor next to him. "I'm sorry, I was just annoyed that you didn't tell anyone that you felt unwell. You could've gotten really sick if you didn't tell us, and I don't think you'd want to end up in the hospital."

All I get for answer was his head turning away from me.

"Babyyyyy!" I groan. I roll in front of him, and kiss his hair. "Forgive me please?"

"————." He answered, but I couldn't understand any of it.

"Head out of your arms." I say, gently lifting his teary face from his crossed arms. "There's my Corbyn." I kiss his forehead, checking his temperature at the same time.

"You're really warm." I say, moving the hair out of his eyes. "Lemme get the thermometer really quick."

I get up, and dig around in a drawer until I find the needed object. "Open up." I say, holding it in front of his mouth.

He opens his mouth, and I slid the thermometer under his tongue.

We wait for the beep, and and Corbyn pulls it out. 101.3°F.