In which they have an adopted daughter because it's about time I wrote Remdy as parents, don't ya think?! (Sick fic bitch)

Early in the morning, Remington is woken by a gentle prod to his shoulder. He squints his eyes open and smiles sleepily at Frances, who they adopted when she was just a baby.

"Dad?" She whispers.

"What is it?" Remington asks, followed by a yawn.

"Daddy's being sick."

"He is?" The singer sits up and realises the bed beside him is empty. "Is daddy in the bathroom?"

Frances nods and rubs her eyes.

Remington gets out of bed and ushers her towards the door, saying quietly, "go back to bed, sweetie, I'll make sure he's okay."

"Can I have a drink first?"

"Have some from the bottle by my bed, okay? Don't touch daddy's in case it's contagious." He points to his bottle of water and begins down the hall towards the bathroom, knocking on the door softly and saying, "Andy, love, you okay in there?" From inside, there's a groan and then the flushing of the toilet. Frances walks past to go back to her room and Remington sends her a smile before he knocks again. The door then opens and he tips his head to the side sympathetically. "Come on, love, come to bed," he says, putting his hand to Andy's cheek. "You're burning up."

Andy groans again. "Everything hurts," he complains, closing his eyes and keeling forwards into Remington, who takes him by the shoulders and helps him back to bed.

The younger picks up the bin and leaves it beside the bed before getting back into bed and stroking Andy's hair from his forehead.

In the morning, Remington gets up without waking his husband, emptying the bin, putting in a new bag, and going down to make breakfast for Frances. He then wakes her up and checks she has everything for school while she eats her toast.

"Is daddy okay?" She asks while he's emptying the dishwasher.

Remington picks up a plate. "He's just a little sick, he'll be okay. Have you got your literacy homework?"

"Think so."

"Make sure you do, you worked hard on that. You're going round to Lucy's afterschool, yeah?"

"Yeah, we're gonna do some painting!"

Remington smiles. "That's exciting!"

"I'm gonna paint daddy a picture," she decides, disappearing out of the kitchen to find her little bag and check her homework is there.

"That's very thoughtful."

"It's not here."

"Where did you do it?"

"Uh..."

Remington looks through a pile of newspapers on the table. "Go and check your room," he tells her, "be quiet so you don't disturb daddy."

"Poor daddy."

"Poor daddy," Remington agrees, abandoning the dishwasher to look for the homework and smiling to himself when he sees Frances, tip-toing up the stairs. If nothing else, he and Andy can pride themselves on raising a very polite young girl. She comes back down minutes later with the piece of paper, grinning at Remington and waving it at him. "Great," he says brightly, "now let's check you've got everything and then we'll go."

"Oh, I need my P.E kit."

The man continues with the dishwasher. "It's hanging with your coat."

Frances bounds off to find it, entertaining herself with a colouring book until she's called to the front door and handed her shoes to put on. "Is daddy still okay?" She asks as Remington closes the door behind them.

"He's still okay, sweetie. He'll be better soon."

"Okay."

Remington holds her hand to cross the road, walking with her into her classroom like every other day. He checks with Lucy's mother that it's okay for Frances to have dinner at their place, hugging his daughter, wishing her a good day, and beginning back home.

Andy is still in bed when Remington goes to check on him. "There might be sick on the floor," he mumbles, smiling sleepily when Remington sits on the bed and takes his hand.

"Mm, lovely," the younger hums. "Are you okay, do you need anything? Soup? Tea? Water? A cuddle?"

"You're so cute."

"Shut up."

"Did Frances get to school okay?"

"Of course, I'm a very capable parent."

"You are." He sits up and groans. "And you're gonna have to pass me the bin unless you want vomit in your lap."

"That, I do not," replies Remington, picking up the bin and holding it for the elder. "Poor baby."

Andy wipes his mouth with the back of his wrist. "Love you."

"Mm, I love you too. I'm making soup."

"Not tomato," Andy mumbles.

"I know, because it has vegetables in it and you-"

"I hate vegetables," the man finishes.

"Jokes on you, there's vegetables in chicken soup too."

Andy sticks his middle finger up and rolls over.

In the early afternoon, Remington fills the bath with warm water and bubbles, encouraging his husband out of his underwear and into the water. Andy leans back and closes his eyes, sipping tea that's been made for him, and when Remington comes to check on him, says, "you're, like, being my daddy today."

Remington snorts. "Don't start calling me daddy."

"Why not? Don't you like it?"

"Well, I prefer calling you daddy, but it's mostly because you'll confuse the fuck out of Frances."

"You make a good point."

"I know. How are you now? Any better?"

Andy sips the tea again and smiles, somewhat wearily. "Little bit."

"What d'you think it is? Food poisoning?"

"Definitely," the man replies. "I called Jake earlier, he's got it too. It's from that restaurant last night. Good thing you didn't come, too."

"Which restaurant?"

"The one on the corner, with the hot waiter."

"Oh, that one," Remington mocks, though actually does know what he's talking about. "That waiter's well fit."

"He's gorgeous and honestly the only reason I suggested eating there last night. Makes me look like a twat, don't it?"

"Eh, there are worst things to look like."

Andy hums. "Help me out, will you? I've gone all dizzy."

With his hands under his husband's arms, Remington helps him step out of the tub, putting a towel over his shoulders and patting his head. "Good boy," he coos, giggling when Andy rolls his eyes. "I need to go see my brothers for a bit. The new album's a bitch and a half. You'll be fine for an hour or so, won't you?"

"'course I will, baby. I'll call if I need you, okay? Don't forget Frances."

"Wouldn't dream of it. Take it easy, I'll be back by six with Frances." He kisses Andy's head, rubs his shoulder, and leaves him to dry off and go back to bed.

After just over an hour in the studio, Remington goes to collect Frances from Lucy's place, ringing the doorbell and smiling when Lucy's dad opens the door. "Evening," greets the man, "come in, the girls are just washing their hands."

Remington steps in and waits in the living room that he's been in countless times before, since Lucy and Frances are best friends and send most evenings with eachother. "Frances was telling me about painting tonight."

"Oh yes, they've been planning it for days. Ah, here they are. Frances, your dad's here!"

"I made daddy a picture!" The little girl announces, bounding into the room and running into Remington. "Look!"

The singer takes the paper she's holding, stopping himself from laughing when he sees what she's painted. It's supposed to be Andy singing into a microphone, he realises, but on first glance, it looks rather like he's sucking a dick. "It's awesome sweetie, daddy'll love it! Are you ready to go?"

"We had pizza!"

"Lucky you!"

She grins at him.

"Alright, shoes on. Daddy's all alone at home."

"Is he still being sick?"

"He's still sick but he's alright, I promise. It's just because he ate something a little off last night."

"Okay," Frances says, leaving his side to put on her shoes. "Can we get sweeties on the way home?"

Remington smiles. "I don't have any money with me. We do have ice pops in the freezer."

"Ice pops, yay!"

"Alright, come on. Home time. Bye bye Lucy."

"Bye!"

The two walk home while talking about Frances' day at school, Remington learning that in P.E they got the mini trampolines out. When they get back, Andy is curled up on the couch with a blanket and the television on. He lifts his head when he hears them come in. "Hello pumpkin," he greets, "good day?"

"I painted you a picture, daddy!"

"Can I see?"

Frances takes the paper from Remington, asking, "will I be sick?"

Remington shakes his head. "No, you'll be fine. What colour ice pop would you like? I think there's yellow, red, blue, and orange."

"Blue!"

"Alrighty. Go give daddy his picture."

Andy has the same initial reaction to the painting as Remington did, hiding his amusement with a compliment and thanking his daughter, and thanking Remington when he's handed a mug of tea and a bowl of chicken soup.