The Pack and Sidemen Oneshots

Vikklan- Care

Lachlan's P.O.V.

I was beginning to get a little worried when I didn't see Vikk after a day, no uploads, no tweets, no replies to my messages or calls. It had been a year since I have moved to London so I was used to seeing him at least once a week if not more, and talking with him every day.

We lived in separate apartments for our own space and privacy, Vikk had lived with the Sidemen for 5 years and I had lived with some friends and then my brother for just as long, so it was nice to have some space. Vikk and I lived less than half an hour apart, so after two nights and a day with no word from him I got in a taxi and headed over to his house.

It was only 8am when I arrived at his house, an unassuming apartment on the 10th floor of a nice apartment block and from what I could see, all of the lights were off. I didn't have to be buzzed in so I just opened the front door and got in the elevator to his floor, knocking lightly on his door.

For the first minute there was no reply so I took the key I had to his apartment and unlocked his door, my heart now beating faster. I knew he was in there, most likely asleep because of his messed up sleep schedule, so why wasn't he answering?

"Vikk?" I called, my voice echoing around the strangely empty apartment.

There was absolutely no reply so I started searching the apartment for him. There was no one on the first floor, he wasn't in his kitchen or living room, and at first I thought he wasn't upstairs either, he wasn't in his office or his bedroom or the guest room. But then I heard a low moan from the bathroom and pushed open the door to see Vikk.

He was sprawled on the floor, lying on his side with his head pressed up against the cold tiles and his face flushed painfully red. He was also half asleep, his eyes fluttering.

"Holy shit Vikk! Are you alright!" He blinked blearily up at me but he seemed hardly coherent, only half conscious and definitely not the person I had talked to a few days earlier. I pressed a hand to his forehead. "Jesus, you're burning up."

I moved to pick up from the ground, holding him gently in my arms, but all that did was earn a pained moan and Vikk started squirming. It hit me that he must be burning up and was using the tiles to try and stay cool, even though it might not have been working.

"Did you sleep on the bathroom floor?" I asked, having looked down to see a huge sweat patch on the floor. He didn't reply because of how incoherent he was so I simply carried him into his bedroom to get him sorted.

The first thing I did was strip his t-shirt and sweatpants off so he could cool down, found a damp facecloth and placed it on his forehead and finally got a thermometer to check exactly how sick he was. I swore when I saw the number.

40.4.

Well shit. I thought, glancing down at it. This isn't good.

I gently ran my hand through Vikk's sweaty hair, watching as he half pushed his head into my touch but he was also hardly reacting to anything I was doing. It was scary but using my head I knew that there was nothing I could do but wait, let him sleep and do everything I could to keep his temperature down and make sure it didn't go up.

Slowly, carefully, I bundled him into my lap, his head resting snuggling in the crook of my neck and his legs tucked up below him. It wasn't by any means a comfortable position for me but Vikk seemed to be completely relaxed in my arms, drifting off into sleep within a few minutes.

I pressed a tiny kiss to his forehead, brushing his hair away again. It would be alright, I told myself, hugging the sleeping boy close. I just needed to give it some time.

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I didn't remember falling asleep with Vikk in my arms, but I did remember waking up several hours later with Vikk still fast asleep, his head still in the crook of my neck. He was still unnaturally warm and his hair was plastered to his forehead, but his temp had certainly gone down.

He didn't stir when I shifted him off me to stretch, still sleeping soundly as I stood up, and I gave myself a few minutes to relax before I woke him up. I gently shook his shoulder and he stirred, his eyes opening slowly and connecting with mine. They certainly weren't glazed over anymore and he seemed much more alert.

"Morning Vikk." I whispered, reaching out to run my hand through his hair. He smiled up at me, still a little sleepy, but he was there. "Are you feeling alright?"

He nodded slowly and stretched out, arching his back.

"Mhm" He mumbled. "What 'appened?"

"You don't remember? You had a really high fever Vikky, I'm pretty sure you slept on the bathroom floor last night. It looks like your temp's gone down quite a bit though in the last few hours." I had no idea how long I had slept until I glanced at the clock.

I had arrived at Vikk's around half past 8, stayed up for around an hour sorting him out and apparently I had slept 6 and half hours because now it was 4 o'clock. I blanched a little, but it did explain how his temperature had gone down so much.

Taking the thermometer from the bedside table I checked again, just to make sure. I sighed in relief when the little screen displayed the number 39.0, meaning he was still a little hotter than normal but he was well out of the danger zone.

"That's much better." I said, glancing down at him. "Hopefully it means you're getting better."

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It took Vikk almost a week to bounce back from being sick and he spent a lot of time curled up in bed, recuperating. He did complain a little when I told him no recording, no editing, he had to rest, but the first time he tried to record and almost fell asleep he gave into my demands and reluctantly crawled back into bed.

I spent that time flitting between his apartment and mine, spending no more than a few hours at a time in my own home. For the first few days I slept over to make sure he was alright and after that I stayed around at his during the day, just to double check. He had a habit for hiding when he was sick.

"I'm fine Lachlan!" He whined on the fourth day, as I made him a cup of coffee. "You don't need to babysit!"

"I know I don't, but I'm going to anyway." I gave him a smirk, telling him all he needed to know. "You did the same thing for me when I was sick."

"That's because we lived in the same house and you were delirious!" He complained, but he didn't seem to care that I made him coffee and cooked his meals. "You needed supervision or you probably would have thrown yourself out a window!"

"Point still proven. You were exactly the same."

He went back to whining and mumbling incoherently under his breath, but I knew he didn't mean it. He liked having me around just as I liked having him around, so there was really no argument when it came down to it.

I rolled my eyes at his childish behaviour. Honestly, some things never changed.