Protocol charity fic: further adventures with Hieronymus

[thebratqueen]

Okay, got a twofer charity fic here. This one is for flaming_muse, and for journalkitten, the latter of whom said she did not mind sharing with flaming_muse as the two of them had very compatible wishes.

This one's in Protocol 'verse, taking place at no particular time in the storyline.

Other charity fics can be found here

Other parts of Protocol can be found here.

As for what it involves.... well,

One day Hieronymus's human became ill.

This was not good, as Hieronymus had only recently gotten used to the idea of *having* a human. Prior to that Hieronymus had thought that the human had *him*. Also that his human was a cat, but in hindsight Hieronymus could see where he'd judged wrongly there.

Regardless, motherhood was a new role for Hieronymus to fulfill, and he very much did not want to be bad at it. Mothers were important. They fed you, bathed you, and generally made certain that you were okay. Hieronymus was happy to do these things for Wesley, his human, except that Wesley was very large and independent, and Hieronymus wasn't certain what was the right balance between encouraging Wesley's attempts to be his own person, or if doing so would result in horrible neglect which might cause Wesley to starve, or perhaps be eaten by a dog.

It was a great deal of responsibility, in other words.

So Hieronymus took to the task as best he was able. He'd rather thought he'd gotten it down into a respectable routine of eating, grooming, napping, grooming, eating, walking about, napping, napping somewhere else, playing with toys, napping, eating, grooming, and napping once again (in no particular order, granted) but the process was still new and Hieronymus wasn't wholly certain they'd gotten the kinks out of it yet. For example, sometimes when Hieronymus napped he woke up to find that Wesley was in a completely different part of the room, which suggested Wesley had been walking when he should have been napping, and really what kind of a routine was that when you came right down to it?

Still, it had been working so far and Hieronymus had observed the process with a great attention to detail and a keen eye for any possible areas of improvement.

But then Wesley became sick, and that was no good at all.

Wesley didn't *know* he was sick, was the first problem. He woke up one morning - alone, as Mylord had had something to do elsewhere - and immediately Hieronymus could tell something was wrong. His fur felt itchy with impending worry, and his whiskers would not sit back, and when he jumped onto the bed and put his nose on Wesley's arm he could tell that Wesley was warmer than he should have been.

*You're not well,* Hieronymus told him. He tried to appear calm about this, as it seemed to Hieronymus that a good mother would not frighten their child.

Wesley rubbed a hand across his face. "Good Lord, is that the time? I was going to get up when Angel did, but - "

Hieronymus butted his head against Wesley's arm. *You're not well.*

"I feel so tired," Wesley turned over, skritching his fingers behind Hieronymus's ears. "You'd think I hadn't slept."

Hieronymus leaned his entire weight into Wesley's hand before remembering he had a job to do. *You should stay in bed, and rest. I could get food for you.*

"I have to get up," Wesley said. He gave Hieronymus one last pet, then sat up with a grunt of effort.

*No, stay in bed,* Hieronymus climbed into Wesley's lap and attempted to push him back down. *You should sleep.*

"I wish I *could* stay," Wesley said, further convincing Hieronymus that the other cats were wrong and Wesley *did* understand him. "But I can't. I have too much work to do."

*Mylord would understand,* Hieronymus told him.

"I'm sure he would, but it isn't proper," Wesley gently moved Hieronymus to the side, then stood up. By the way he wobbled on his feet Hieronymus knew something was very wrong, but Wesley shook it off and kept walking. "You can have the bed if you like. I'm sure it's nice and warm for you."

It was, but Hieronymus knew that a good mother would not indulge in such things. He jumped off of the bed and stayed close to Wesley's heels.

No child of *his* was going to become dog food.

***

Hours of watching Wesley produced nothing that assuaged Hieronymus's fears. Wesley walked slower than his usual brisk pace. He stopped to get his balance from time to time. He didn't eat, and when he did he took only a few bites before pushing the food away. Once he even ran into the bathroom to vomit. Hieronymus tried to help him by bringing meals near, but all he could find were buttons and bugs and Wesley didn't seem to have any interest in eating them.

This was not good.

The humans around were less than useless. Some did ask about Wesley's well-being, but Wesley always responded with a smile, and a promise that he was fine. Hieronymus wanted to scold Wesley for lying, but decided not to as the more important thing to do was to get Wesley better.

Hieronymus needed to learn what was going on. He waited until Wesley was with other people - Hieronymus assumed they could at least keep an eye on him for a moment - then snuck out to see if he could find Miss Kitty.

***

Surprisingly, Miss Kitty was nowhere to be found. It was possible she was in a place beyond Hieronymus and Wesley's usual territory, but time was of the essence and Hieronymus did not want to waste any of it by looking.

Instead he sought out other cats, and was quite pleased when he discovered a solid white one who was nursing a litter of kittens.

*Excuse me,* Hieronymus said, sitting at a respectful distance from her, *I don't mean to interrupt, but I need advice from one mother to another.*

The white cat raised her head to peer at him with blue eyes. *Do I know you?*

*I'm sorry,* Hieronymus said, *I didn't introduce myself. My name is Hieronymus. It's very nice to meet you.*

*You're polite enough,* the white cat decided. She nudged one of her kittens - a tiny orange and black one which was smaller than even Hieronymus - back into place, then turned her attention to him again. *You said you need help?*

*Yes,* Hieronymus said, glad that his manners had done him in good standing. *I have a sick child. I don't know what to do about it.*

The white cat studied him. *Aren't you a little young for children? Besides, what does a male cat care?*

*I've adopted,* Hieronymus explained. *I have a human who I am very fond of. Except my human is sick and I don't know what to do.*

The white cat flicked an ear back. *I don't know much about human health, I'm afraid.*

*Any information at all would be helpful,* Hieronymus said.

*All right,* the white cat sighed. *What are the symptoms?*

*Tired, wobbly, on and off food, warm, and stomach-sick,* Hieronymus said, glad he'd kept careful track of it all.

The white cat snorted. *Sounds like kittens.*

Hieronymus's ears went as high as they could. *Kittens?*

*That's how I felt when I had this bunch,* the white cat said, indicating her suckling brood. *Don't know if it's the same for humans, but if it is your human could be pregnant.*

*Oh dear,* Hieronymus said.

*Something wrong?* the white cat asked.

*Yes,* Hieronymus said. *I don't know how to be a grandmother!*

***

After thanking the white cat profusely for her help, Hieronymus ran back to Wesley as fast as his paws could carry him. Wesley was alone again, which made Hieronymus feel uncharitable towards the humans who had abandoned him in his particular condition. But at least Wesley was still there and in one piece, which was a place to start.

*Are you okay?* Hieronymus asked, rubbing his entire body against Wesley's ankle in a show of support.

Wesley scooped him up, resting Hieronymus against his chest as he sat back in an overstuffed leather chair. "I can't get over how tired I feel."

*You're pregnant,* Hieronymus told him. *You have kittens inside of you. They'll make you feel tired, and also sick. Did you eat anything?*

"I've so much I need to do today," Wesley said. "I can't fall behind."

Hieronymus thudded his tail against Wesley's chest. *You should eat! You need to keep your strength up. Chores can wait for later.*

"I shouldn't even be taking this time now," Wesley said. He rubbed a fingertip between Hieronymus's shoulders, but Hieronymus could tell his strength wasn't really into it. "I don't suppose chatting with you could count as official spouse business?"

*I think you should sleep,* Hieronymus punctuated this by kneading his paws into Wesley's chest. *Rest now, do things later.*

Wesley yawned. "Perhaps a short nap couldn't hurt. Better to rest now than be tired when others can see."

*Yes!* Hieronymus said, quite happy that his child was thinking logically. *Go take a nap. I'll watch over you.*

Wesley cuddled Hieronymus close, holding him carefully as he got up and walked into the bedroom. "Care to keep me company?"

*Be happy to,* Hieronymus said.

***

Wesley fell into a deep sleep as soon as his head hit the pillows. Hieronymus stayed with him, watching him for any sign of discomfort or trouble. Wesley didn't look as though he felt better. If anything, he looked worse as his skin grew warmer, and his body began to shake in ways that were different from when Wesley got the no-breath tremors.

This made Hieronymus worry for the kittens, but he didn't want to leave Wesley alone to ask someone about it, and there was always the chance that this was a normal part of the process.

Instead Hieronymus perched up on the pillows by Wesley's head, and curled as close to him as he could. When Wesley's sleep grew restless, Hieronymus responded by licking the top of Wesley's head and singing lullabies to him with purrs. He quietly assured Wesley that he was very fond of him, even if he was a human, and that he would be fond of Wesley's kittens too, even if they also turned out not to be cats.

Wesley stayed fast asleep, and offered no response to that.

***

Then Mylord returned.

This was enough to rouse Hieronymus from the bed and approach Mylord in the living room. It was one thing for other humans to ignore Hieronymus's child while he was in need, but Mylord was different. He was Wesley's companion. That meant he had certain responsibilities regarding Wesley's well-being, and Hieronymus expected Mylord to uphold them.

Also, because he *was* Wesley's companion, and Hieronymus felt that this might have something to do with how Wesley came down with kittens in the first place. He wasn't sure, though. No one had ever explained to him how the process worked. Hieronymus thought that perhaps it had something to do with grooming. All cats had a strong instinct for tidiness, and it seemed to Hieronymus that that might have something to do with the survival of the species.

Granted, Wesley was not a cat, but he was cat-like enough in his behaviors that it might be possible. Mylord was *definitely* not a cat, but he was the most fastidious piece of furniture that Hieronymus had ever seen, so again Hieronymus could not rule this out of the realm of possibility.

Regardless, Hieronymus felt it was his job to sit Mylord down and explain the situation to him. Wesley was pregnant. That meant certain tasks would need to be done. It meant Mylord would have to take extra special care of him. It meant Mylord and Hieronymus would have to work together to ensure that Wesley did not want for anything while he was in this particular condition. It would take planning and teamwork, but Hieronymus felt that with proper courtesy and respect the two of them could handle it.

Aloud, Hieronymus said, "Eee!"

Mylord gave him a clumsy pat on his head for his trouble. "Hey there, furball. How's it going?"

Hieronymus sighed. This was going to take some work.

***

Of all the things Angel expected to see when he got back to the suite, an insistent kitten was not one of them. Hieronymus marched right up to him as soon as he walked in and immediately began chattering his head off - metaphorically - and looking at Angel as though expecting him to understand.

Angel wasn't entirely certain if the fact that the cat was trying to communicate, or the fact that the cat clearly thought he was a *moron* were the weirder issue, but either way it made him wish that Wesley was around to help handle it.

Which was when Angel figured out that there might be something wrong with Wes.

Guessing panic attack, Angel ran into the bedroom. He was confronted with a Wes who thankfully was clearly able to breathe, but who did not look well regardless.

Angel sat down on the bed, running his hands down Wes's face and body as he tried to pick up on all the symptoms. "Wes? Can you wake up for me?"

There was a half-hearted moan, then Wesley's eyes managed to open a slit. "My Lord - "

Angel immediately aborted Wes's attempt to sit up. "You're sick. How long has that been going on?"

"I'm sorry," Wesley tried to get up again. "My Lord, I didn't mean -"

"Wes," Angel cupped Wesley's chin to get him to face him. As he did, he saw how glassy Wes's eyes were. "You're *sick*. Do you understand? From the looks of it you've got the flu."

"Sorry," Wes mumbled, his head falling back down onto the pillow.

Hieronymus appeared by Wesley's head, offering a pleading "Ah?" as he looked up at Angel.

"Don't worry," Angel told the cat, "I'll take care of him. Wes? Can you hear me? Do you have things for flu and fever in your supplies, or should I get Willow?"

"Top drawer," Wesley made an effort to point. "Labeled. My Lord, I'm sorry I - "

"You've used up your sorries for the day," Angel told him. He opened up Wes's potions cabinet and found a few vials for just the occasion. He poured out doses into a glass, then held Wes's head up as he swallowed them. "There you go. You'll start feeling better soon."

Wesley leaned into his touch. "Thank you, my Lord."

Angel smiled, pressing his palms against both sides of Wes's face. "Yeah, nice thing about being with a vampire, huh? Room temperature. I must feel nice and cool to you."

"Heavenly, my Lord," Wesley told him.

"Want me to stick around?" Angel asked.

Wes looked up at him helplessly. "My Lord, I can't - "

"Right," Angel said. He crawled into bed beside Wes, then pulled Wes close to him. "Then executive decision: I'm sticking around and taking care of you."

Wes settled happily into his arms. "Thank you, my Lord."

Angel marveled at being able to do so many things for Wes in a row. He supposed he should feel guilty, but in an odd way he was glad for the chance at being there while Wes couldn't help but show some need and vulnerability. "Don't mention it. I like taking care of you."

***

*So, he isn't pregnant?* Hieronymus asked Miss Kitty, when she stopped by later to come visit with Willow.

*No,* Miss Kitty said. *He's a man. Men can't get pregnant.*

*Oh,* Hieronymus said. He licked a speck of dirt off of his back paw and thought about it. *What was wrong, then?*

Miss Kitty watched as Willow, Mylord, and Wesley talked. *I think he was ill. Humans get ill, sometimes. Just like we do.*

*I'm still not sure Wesley isn't a cat,* Hieronymus said.

*I think you did a good job taking care of him regardless,* Miss Kitty said.

Hieronymus squared his shoulders proudly, and felt so content that his fur poofed out.

End.