Kenny wrapped the blanket snugly around Dawn’s shoulders, sitting on a stool beside her. His brow was furrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line—the kind of serious look that always made Dawn squirm.

“You’ve got to stop being so stubborn, Dee Dee,” Kenny said firmly, setting a glass of water on the table next to her. “What if you got lost in the snow? Or worse, caught a cold so bad you couldn’t get up?”

Dawn huffed, crossing her arms under the blanket. “I’m fine! I just—”

“Just nothing,” Kenny interrupted, his tone soft but resolute. He picked up the stethoscope again. “Let’s check that wheezing. Lift your arm.”

Dawn pouted but did as he asked, raising her arm so Kenny could place the cold stethoscope against her chest. She flinched, letting out a squeak.

“Relax,” Kenny said, shaking his head. “Deep breath in… and out.”

She obeyed, though it was shaky. Kenny frowned again, moving the stethoscope around her back. “You sound a little rattly. How long were you outside?”

“Not that long!” Dawn protested, though her voice cracked.

“Dawn,” Kenny said flatly, giving her his best “don’t lie to me” look.

Dawn looked away, tugging the blanket tighter. “...Maybe an hour.”

Kenny’s eyes widened. “An hour?! In a snowstorm?!” He groaned, setting the stethoscope aside. “Dawn, are you trying to get pneumonia?!”

Dawn shrank under his scolding, her lip trembling. “I-I just wanted to bring you your lunch…”

Kenny froze mid-rant, his shoulders slumping. He let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I know you were trying to be nice. And I appreciate it. But you’ve got to think about yourself too, okay? I’d rather eat vending machine chips than see you get sick.”

Dawn sniffled, her blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I just… I didn’t want you to skip lunch again. You always do that when you’re busy.”

Kenny blinked, caught off guard. He fidgeted with the stethoscope hanging around his neck, his cheeks turning pink. “...I mean, yeah, but… You didn’t have to come out in a snowstorm for me.”

The room went quiet for a moment, save for Dawn’s occasional sniffles. Kenny grabbed the thermometer again, popping it into her mouth before she could protest.

After a few moments, it beeped. Kenny pulled it out, his frown deepening. “101.6. You’re staying here until that fever comes down, got it?”

“But Kenny!” Dawn whined, pulling the blanket tighter. “I’ll be fine! Really!”

“Dawn,” Kenny said, crossing his arms and giving her a look that screamed “don’t test me.”

She pouted but nodded reluctantly. “Fine.”

“Good.” Kenny reached for the box of tissues, handing her one. “Blow your nose. You sound like a stuffed Piplup.”

Dawn giggled despite herself, taking the tissue. “You’re so bossy, Kenny.”

“Someone has to be,” he shot back, smirking a little.

As Dawn sniffled into the tissue, Kenny pulled a stool closer and sat down. He leaned on the table, resting his chin in his hand.

“You’re lucky I have a soft spot for you, Dee Dee,” he muttered, almost too quiet for her to hear.

Dawn peeked at him from under the blanket, a small smile playing on her lips. “Thanks, Kenny. You’re a pretty good doctor.”

Kenny rolled his eyes, though the corners of his mouth twitched up. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make me drag you out of a snowstorm again, alright?”

“Deal,” Dawn said, her voice soft but sincere.