Chapter Text
“Sweetheart, I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Jorah said, trying to reassure his wife.
Daenerys chewed her bottom lip nervously as she watched her husband gently place the now sleeping Poppy back into her crib.
Their little girl had been restless all afternoon, crying and wanting to be held by her parents almost constantly. She was also crabbier than usual and pushed away the spoon each time they tried to feed her. After what seemed like hours, Poppy had cried herself out and fell asleep in her father’s arms.
“We’ll call Mary in the morning if she’s still cranky,” Jorah added, guiding his wife away from Poppy’s room and back downstairs to the lounge.
“I hate seeing her like that and I don’t know what to do to make it better. I feel helpless,” Daenerys admitted as they sat on the couch together.
“I’m sure she’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep,” Jorah replied, feeling the early signs of a headache coming on.
It wouldn’t surprise Jorah if Daenerys also had a headache, considering that Poppy spent most of the afternoon crying and being unsettled.
Daenerys smiled at her husband, but it didn’t reach her eyes and Jorah knew his wife well enough to know that she wasn’t convinced. He let it go for now and handed her the remote as they settled down to binge watch one of their favourite TV shows.
Three episodes in, Daenerys looked up from her position on her husband’s chest to realise that he had fallen asleep. She stroked his cheek gently and watched his eyes flutter open.
“Go to bed,” she said. “I’ll be up in a little while.”
Jorah looked as if he would argue the point for a few moments before the fatigue hit him full force. His head was throbbing, and his limbs seemed to ache more than they usually would now that he was back to his usual morning workout routine.
He pulled himself wearily to his feet and got a glass of water from the kitchen before heading upstairs to bed.
Two episodes later, Daenerys realised watching TV wasn’t the same without Jorah holding her in his arms. It was still early evening, but Poppy would probably wake them up at some point and so Daenerys turned the lights off, readied herself for bed and climbed under the duvet to snuggle next to her husband who was already fast asleep.
Much to Daenerys’ surprise, Poppy only woke once during the night and all remained quiet until just after 5 a.m. when Poppy began crying once more.
She climbed out of bed and made her way to Poppy’s room to find her daughter standing in her cot with her arms out as she reached for her mother. She frowned as she felt how hot Poppy was and she could clearly see the redness of her little girl’s cheeks.
Just as she was attempting to soothe her daughter, Jorah entered the room, rubbing a hand over his face and looking at his wife and daughter with bleary eyes.
“She feels hot, Jorah. I think she’s coming down with something.”
Jorah nodded his head, regretting it moments later as his head began pounding much in the same vein as it had last night.
“I’m going to call Mary,” she said, leaving the room with Poppy in her arms as she began looking around their bedroom for her phone.
Jorah sat on the edge of the bed and watched his wife. Every bone in his body was aching and it felt as if the energy had been drained from his body. Even staying awake felt like hard work.
“She’s going to come round in a minute,” Daenerys said, placing her phone back on the nightstand. It was then that she noticed the distracted look on her husband’s face. “Jorah, are you ok?”
He gave her what he hoped was a convincing smile as he absently scratched at his abdomen through his t-shirt.
“Just feeling a bit under the weather,” he replied, pulling on a pair of jeans. “I’ll go and make some coffee,” he added as he left the room and made his way downstairs.
Mary was at their front door in a matter of minutes. Jorah beckoned her inside and upstairs to where Daenerys was still holding onto Poppy as the little girl continued to sob and cling to her mother.
“Let’s take a look at you, sweetheart,” Mary said, seamlessly slipping into ‘nurse mode’ in a routine that was all too familiar to Jorah.
“She was unsettled yesterday, and she feels hot this morning,” Daenerys told the nurse, her tone wavering with the anxiousness she felt at seeing her daughter so distressed.
Mary pulled out a digital thermometer and placed it in Poppy’s ear. She frowned when she saw the reading. “How has her appetite been?” Mary asked.
“She didn’t want much of her lunch or dinner yesterday,” Jorah answered as he stood in the doorway.
“I’m just going to take a look at your tummy,” Mary told the little girl. “If you wouldn’t mind holding her still,” she said, glancing up at Daenerys.
Daenerys gasped when she saw the small red dots on Poppy’s stomach.
“I thought as much,” Mary said nodding to herself. “I’m afraid she has chickenpox, sweetheart.”
The nurse looked up quickly when she heard Daenerys sobbing.
“Hey,” Mary said gently, taking one of Daenerys’s hands in her own. “It’s perfectly normal for a child to get it. Most children get chickenpox and measles at some point.”
“She’ll be ok?” Daenerys asked, the concern she felt for her daughter written clearly on her face.
“She’ll be a cranky little bairn for a few days, but I’m sure she’ll be fine. Just make sure she keeps drinking plenty of fluids. You can give her some Calpol to help her sleep and keep her comfortable.”
“What about the blisters?” Daenerys asked.
“Try not to let her scratch them,” Mary replied. “I used to put socks on the boy’s hands at night when they had it,” she said, smiling at the memory. “I’ll leave the thermometer here, call the GP if you’re worried about her or you think she’s getting worse.”
“Thank you,” Jorah said quietly from the doorway, and it made both women jump. He’d been so quiet standing there that Mary had all but forgotten he was still in the room.
The nurse frowned when she saw Jorah scratch his side through his t-shirt. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at her oldest friend and noticed the slight flush to his cheeks.
“And how are you feeling, hun?”
Jorah shrugged.
“I’m fine.”
“Really?” Mary retorted before looking to Daenerys for confirmation.
“He went to bed early last night,” Daenerys said, looking guiltily at her husband as he shot her a look of betrayal.
“Honestly, I’m fine,” Jorah repeated, slightly terse this time.
“Then you won’t mind me just checking, will you?” Mary replied.
Jorah let out a dramatic sigh.
“If it gets you off my case, be my guest,” he growled.
Daenerys winced at the tone of his voice. She’d never heard him be this cranky about Mary and her overprotectiveness of him before.
Mary changed the filter on the digital thermometer and placed it in Jorah’s ear, a little more forcefully than she’d intended.
“You’re meant to be measuring my temperature, not bursting my bloody eardrum,” he scowled.
“Stand still and be quiet, Grouchbag,” she shot back. “Your temperature is raised,” she said with some concern. “Lift your t-shirt for me,” she instructed him as she placed the thermometer back on the bed.
“Mary - “
“Just do it,” she snapped at her friend, frowning as she saw the tell-tale signs of chickenpox on Jorah’s abdomen. “Jorah has it too,” Mary said as she ignored his grumbled mutterings and looked over to Daenerys.
“But it’s only children that get it, isn’t it?” Daenerys asked.
“Most children get it at some point. You can still catch it as an adult if you never had it as a child.”
“He’s never had chickenpox?” Daenerys asked Mary fearfully.
“Hey,” Jorah cut in. “‘He’ is still here, thank you.”
“Be quiet,” both women said in unison.
“Well, if he did, I don’t remember it,” Mary replied. “He’s showing all the signs and I’m almost certain that he never had it when he was younger.”
“Can it be dangerous?” Daenerys asked as she glanced at her husband.
“There can be complications, but I’ll leave you a list of things to look out for before I leave.” Mary then turned her attention back to Jorah. “You and Poppy are under house arrest until the chickenpox has cleared up.”
“But, Jorah, you have that…uh, appointment today,” Daenerys said glancing at her husband.
“You’ll need to cancel it,” Mary cut in. “And any activities Poppy goes to that have other children present. They are both contagious at this point and we don’t want it spreading to anyone else.”
“Great,” Jorah grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Keep lots of fluids in Mr. Grouchy over there and give him paracetamol to help with the fever and the discomfort. And don’t let him scratch those blisters.”
“I’m not a bloody child,” Jorah mumbled, aware that he was being unreasonably ratty with his old friend.
His words seemed to wash off Mary as she cradled his cheek and smiled at him. “No, but you’re the Incredible Sulk when it comes to being ill,” she smiled when he looked affronted at the remark. “But tone it down with your wife, she’s got a grouchy baby to look after as well as you.”
Jorah had the good grace to look slightly ashamed, shooting his wife a guilty look before smirking at Mary. “Can I still be grouchy with you?”
She patted his cheek gently.
“Of course, I’ve seen it so often I’m immune to it now.”
And with that, Mary made her way downstairs, ignoring the grumblings of Jorah. She scribbled down some advice for Daenerys before hugging her and grabbing her purse.
“Good luck,” the nurse said with a wry smile. “Give me a call if you need me.”