[Satyr] Hope's Flu

>Day Recovery in Equestria.
>The sound of Hope retching reaches you all the way in your living room.
>Your brow furrows and you can feel a frown form on your lips.
>”Mrs. Heartstrings?”
>Turning your attention back to the doctor, you focus.
“Yes Dr. Escope?”
>He hands you a brown bag with a note attached.
>”I said to give Hope two tablespoons every four hours as needed. Are you okay? Your daughter's flu didn't spread to you too, did it?”
>You shake your head, taking the bag and pulling out your wallet.
“No, I just hate to hear Hope in pain.”
>Paying the stallion, he nods and sighs.
>”Most parents do. Still, I recommend using a medical mask when feeding, talking, or doing anything with Hope. These things spread fast.”
“Will do. Thanks again for stopping by.”
>”Any time. Give your husband my regards.”
>Nodding, the stallion turns and leaves.
>You close the door behind him and hear Hope retch again.
>”Uhuhuhuuuuu, Mooooooom!”
>She is sniffling, sob filled groans running down from her room.
>Your poor baby...
>Taking the doctor's advice, you put on a medical mask before heading up to Hope's room.
>You make sure to open the door with a gentle touch, her hearing quite sensitive right now.
“I'm here Hope.”
>Walking in, you can't help but take in the scene before you again.
>Hope's eyes are watery and red.
>Her lips have vomit remnants across them.
>The tint of her skin seems flushed, almost pale.
>She didn't even have the strength to change this morning, still wearing her pj's and bed head.
>Walking next to your daughter, you grab a tissue with your magic and slide it across her lips.
>Her bucket is nearly full.
“Hope, I need you to not fight with me on this.”
>She looks down to the brown bag, face scrunching as she knows what is about to happen.
>”Is it the kind that taste like soap?”
“I don't know, but it will help. Now open side and say 'ahhhhh'.”
>She does so, a mixture of pain and annoyance on her face.
>You pull out the medicine, levitating it on its side to fill the cap.
>Once it is full, you bring the cap to your daughter's lips and quickly tip it's contents.
>She groans and swallows, gagging a bit.
>”Ugh! That one tasted like wax.”
>A smile crosses your face.
“How do you know what wax tastes like?”
>She pulls her blankets closer to her head, cheeks burning red against her pale skin.
>”I don't, but that's what wax would taste like...”
>Shaking your head, you levitate the bucket, about to empty it so she doesn't have it overflow.
“I'll be back in a minute, just hold it down. Okay?”
>She nods and turns to her side, dragging her blanket over her head.
>Heading towards the bathroom, you ignore the stench.
>As you lift the toilet seat, you wonder how many times your parents had to do this for you.
>How your mom would stay by your side and read you stories.
>... It's funny how your mom hasn't changed much.
>Dead old dad however... ugh... many it's just because now you are an adult that he seems different.
>Flushing the stomach stew, you head back to Hope.
>Your mind is still focused on the subject of your father however.
>You love him, but you are disappointed with his actions.
>Specifically the ones regarding Anon.
>Your husband has it hard enough being the only one of his species here, he shouldn't have to deal with anypony treating him badly because of it.
>That stab at your honey he made on Hope's birthday still sits with you...
>How dare he try and even insinuate Anon can't get her luxuries.
>He could, if he wasn't a practical man!
>It was one of the things you loved about him; he always thought about what was best in the long run, what would keep a roof over Hope's head and food in her stomach.
>”Moooooom!”
>Yelping, you rush back to the room, placing the bucket down just in time for her to let off another spew.
>... Well, it WAS in her stomach.
>Hehehe, you feel horrible for laughing at that, but that was a good one.


>Unlocking your home's front door, you place your briefcase down on the couch and look around.
>The entire house seems eerily dark.
“Hope? Lyra?”
>The sound of one of the second story doors opening has you turn your gaze to the staircase.
>Lyra appears at the top of it.
>”We're up here. Hope is still sick.”
>You let off a concerned groan.
>In truth, you had hoped that your daughter was just faking it.
>Not because it would mean she wouldn't have to miss a day of school, because having the flu was one of the WORST things in any world.
>The stomach pains, the constant vomiting, the bathroom problems.
>Oh god, poor Hope is going through all of that right now!
>Rushing upstairs, you pass Lyra as she tries to grab you.
>As you are about to enter Hope's room to check on your baby, the doorknob glows with a green aura.
>”S-Shhh! Hope's hearing is really sensitive right now.”
>A white cloth levitates in front of you.
>Looking closer, it is one of those doctors' masks.
>Lyra steps next to you, wearing one as well.
“Uh-”
>”Dr. Escope said that Hope is very contagious right now.”
>Sighing, you put the mask on before stepping in Hope's room.
>The little Satyr is asleep.
>Her hair is poofy and sticking up.
>Your stroke a few spots down with a soft touch.
>It's funny how different Hope looks without her hair clips.
>Probably because they do such a good job of hiding just how long and unruly her hair really is.
“Sleep well Hope.”
>You plant a mask covered kiss on her cheek, watching as she places her hand where your -lips- once were.
>With a smile on your face, you leave the room.


>You are watching your wife as she makes coffee.
>This wasn't an uncommon thing for you two to do, but the way she is almost frantic as she moves is a little... worrying.
“Is everything all right honey?”
>”Yes, well no, well... I... Anon, dear?”
>Uh oh, she hardly ever calls you by your name.
>Not since before you two were married.
“What's wrong? Is everything all right?”
>She nods, seething as she sit down next to you.
>”I have something... hard to ask.”
>Hard?
>What's going on?
>”Anon... I want you to make peace with my dad.”
“... This... is different.”
>You aren't quite sure how to respond right now.
>Anger at the mention of the old duffs existence, sorrow that even bringing him up is causing your wife distress, or worry that things may end very very badly.
>”I know we tried before, but... I was taking care of Hope and I couldn't help thinking of how my parents would take care of me and it made me realize how much I miss them. I know Hope wants to see more of mom and-”
“Lyrica? Of course Hope wants to see more of Lyrica, she is a very nice mare.”
>”Honey-”
“I'm sure we could arrange some visits if we just talked, she is always so happy visting.”
>”Dea-”
“We could start right away, maybe on the weeke-”
>”Anon!”
>Sighing, you silence yourself.
>”I know you don't want to see more of my dad, but he IS Hope's grandpa afterall. Do you want to take away a member of her family?”
“N-No... I just... dammit, I'm scared okay? I don't want him feeling Hope's heads that... that I'm...”
>You don't finish the sentence.
>Lyra places a hoof on your hand.
>”You're not, and he won't. He better not even try.”
>She places a peck on your cheek, smiling.
>”Promise.”
>You don't want to, but a smile finds its way to your lips.
“All right... I'll try and make peace with him.”
>”That's all I ask.”
>You lean in, kissing your wife on the lips.
“Forgive me for acting a little on the offensive?”
>She giggles, placing her forehead against yours while she can, horn laying against your skin.
>”You had every right to be. Dad has been a big ass and kind of deserved it. Let's see if we can;t change that, kay?”
>Nodding, your skin rubs against your wife's horn, causing her to moan.
>Right, Unicorn erogenous zone.
>She is giving you those eyes, the 'Keep going' ones.
>Chuckling, you are about to stroke her horn when a sudden outcry comes from upstairs.
>”Mooooooooooom! Can I get a cup of water?”
>Right, Hope is still sick.
>Husband mode is going to have to wait for a bit, daddy mode is needed.
“I'll take care of it honey, okay?”
>She sighs, dejected as she looks to the table.
>”Okay, okay. I'll... calm down.”
>You run a finger up her horn, causing her to squeal and shiver.
“You do that then.”
>She groans louder, head laying against the table as you take a cup of water to your sick daughter.