Seventeen year-old Joe Hardy quietly opened the door to his brother's bedroom and poked his head inside. The room was dark, save for a string of Christmas lights hanging from his brother's desk lamp. A small radio on the bedside table was quietly playing Christmas carols.

Joe looked over at the bed and saw Frank lying there, half-propped up by pillows. Frank's eyes were closed, but at the slight creak of the door he raised his head a little to look at who was coming in.

Joe smiled and moved to sit in a chair beside his brother's bed. "Hey, how are you feeling?"

"Miserable," Frank croaked. "But I guess it could be worse."

"Could be better too, I'll bet," Joe said sympathetically.

Frank nodded. "So could the timing. Who gets the damn flu two days before Christmas?"

"You, apparently. I always knew you were special, Frank," Joe teased.

"Funny." Frank closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, a clear sign that he had a major headache. "Did somebody just call or did I imagine it?"

"Oh- Yeah, it was mom and dad. They're still stuck in New York. They got like three feet of snow, so it doesn't look like they'll make it back tonight."

"Great, so we already had to cancel on the girls because of this blasted flu and now mom and dad aren't gonna be here for Christmas Eve either. And I'm stuck in this damn room," Frank grumbled, opening his eyes and glaring at the ceiling in tired frustration.

"Not necessarily," Joe said softly. "Want to come downstairs?"

Frank's gaze shifted back to his brother. "I'd love to, but…I'm honestly not sure I can make it without puking up my guts."

"Sure you can, I'll help," Joe said confidently. At Frank's dubious expression he added, "C'mon, we can still celebrate Christmas Eve together in the living room, with the tree and Christmas movies and everything. It'll be great."

Frank studied him for a moment, his head tilted slightly to the side as if he was mulling over something. Then his lips curved into a small smile. "Okay," he said, finally. He slowly pushed himself up on an elbow, turned and lowered his feet to the floor. Sitting on the side of his bed, Frank paused, taking a few deep breaths.

"You okay?" Joe asked.

Frank nodded. "Yeah, just- give me a minute."

Joe looked down at his brother's shivering frame with a worried frown, and wondered if it was such a good idea to take him downstairs after all. When he noticed that Frank's teeth were chattering, he quickly strode over to the bedroom door to grab the thick robe from the hook. "Here," he offered, helping Frank pull on the robe over his sweater and jogging pants.

"Thanks," Frank said. He took another deep breath before pushing himself up from the bed and standing.

Joe immediately made a grab for him when Frank swayed. He drew his brother's arm across his shoulders and wrapped an arm around his waist. Frank's eyes were closed and his face was white, but there was a determined set to his mouth.

"You okay?" Joe asked again. "You sure you want to do this?"

"Yeah, I'm- just a little dizzy. Just gotta- take it slow."

They stood there for a few minutes, Frank breathing heavily through his nose. Joe was seriously starting to regret urging his brother to come downstairs; he had obviously underestimated how sick Frank really was.

Joe held on to his brother tightly as they slowly made their way across the room and into the hallway. He could feel the heat radiating from his brother's body and realized that Frank was still running a fever. They paused at the top of the stairs so the older boy could get his breath and Joe waited patiently for Frank's signal to continue.

"How're you doing, Frank? We can still go back…"

"No, I'm okay. Just- trying to get the stairs to stop spinning. My stomach's not appreciating it."

"Well, be sure to warn me before you puke all over me, all right?"

Frank gave him a withering look.

A minute later, Frank told Joe to go ahead and they slowly started descending the stairs. Joe tightened his hold on his brother when Frank stumbled and shored him up a little. Frank was trembling and Joe berated himself for even suggesting Frank come downstairs; the short trek to the living room was clearly taking a lot out of him.

They made it down the stairs relatively unscathed. As they rounded the corner to the living room, Frank halted at the sight of all the brightly-colored Christmas lights and the numerous burning candles. He smiled despite his exhaustion. "Nice. And that-" he added, nodding at the sofa Joe had piled high with sheets, pillows and blankets, "-looks really comfy."

Joe returned the smile. "Well, let's find out." He gently steered his brother towards the makeshift bed, carefully lowered him onto the mound of pillows and draped the blankets over him as Frank leaned back with a sigh, his eyes closed.

Joe hovered nearby, watching as his brother rested. Frank's lean face was very pale and his forehead was glistening with perspiration. The small crinkle between his eyebrows indicated that his headache had gotten worse.

Suddenly, Frank sat up, clamping a hand over his mouth and Joe quickly produced the old dishpan he had set beside the table for exactly this kind of emergency. Frank clutched it tightly as he dry-heaved over it a few times. Joe looked on in sympathy and rubbed his brother's back.

Finally, Frank handed the dishpan back to Joe and lay back against the pillows once more, his face an awful shade of grey. He closed his eyes again, obviously exhausted. Joe sat down on the coffee table next to the sofa and brushed a few strands of his brother's dark hair from his forehead. "I'm sorry I made you come all the way down."

Frank squinted at him. "You didn't make me do anything," he said softly, as if talking more loudly would exacerbate his headache. "I wanted to get out of that damn room; I was bored out of my mind. I'd much rather spend Christmas Eve down here with you."

Joe smiled, and then turned to pick up the glass of water he'd set on the coffee table earlier. "Here," he said.

Frank accepted the glass gratefully and took a few sips. His hand shook when he returned the half-empty glass to Joe.

"There's some Tylenol on the table if you need it," Joe told him.

"Thanks," the older boy replied. He closed his eyes once more and Joe left him to get some sleep. He switched on the TV and turned the volume low, before channel-hopping to a Christmas movie. Then he went into the kitchen and got busy preparing dinner for himself and some chicken broth for Frank.

Half an hour later, he carried the freshly cooked food into the living room and set both his own plate and Frank's bowl down on the coffee table. Frank was still sleeping and Joe was debating whether or not to wake him when his brother stirred.

"Hey," Joe said as his brother's brown eyes blinked open. "Feeling better?"

"A little."

"Well, you're just in time; I was just serving dinner."

"Dinner?" Frank sat up a little straighter and looked at the food curiously.

"Yeah, think you could eat something? I made you some chicken broth."

"Chicken broth?" Frank licked his lips. "That actually sounds really good."

Joe grinned and handed his brother the steaming bowl. Frank wrapped his hands around it, visibly relishing the heat that emanated from it.

Joe frowned. "Are you cold?"

"No, it's just nice, like this." Frank glanced at Joe's plate. "What are you having?"

"Oh, some turkey, mashed potatoes and salad. Not much of a Christmas dinner, but it'll do till mom and aunt Gertrude come home to do the real Christmas cooking," Joe said, taking a bite of his turkey as Frank chuckled.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, Joe eating his impromptu Christmas dinner and Frank sipping his broth. After Frank handed Joe back his almost empty bowl, he lay back down and turned onto his side – facing the television – and tucked his hand underneath his cheek. "Come sit here," he suggested, wiggling his foot and drawing up his legs a little to make room for Joe to sit at the end of the sofa. Joe complied eagerly, lifting a corner of Frank's blanket and scooting under it.

They spent the rest of the evening like that, watching Christmas movies and just enjoying each other's company. Every now and then Joe got up to get more broth for Frank or some snacks for himself. Frank drifted off several times, and apologized for it every time he woke up again.

"Frank, stop apologizing," Joe said finally, exasperated. "You're sick, you're allowed to take a nap or two."

Frank sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I'm sorry I'm not better company tonight, Joe."

"Didn't I just tell you to stop apologizing?" Joe remarked, looking down at his brother's dark head fondly. "And who says you're not good company? I had some very interesting conversations with you while you were sleeping."

"Really? And here people always tell me I'm not a good conversationalist. Ha, I can hold conversations in my sleep!"

Joe laughed, leaning over and ruffling his brother's hair. "You sound like you're feeling better."

"I do feel a little better. Not great, but not as bad as before. Must be your excellent bedside manner."

"What bedside manner? I think that fever of yours cooked your brain, 'cause you're talking nonsense," Joe said casually.

Frank nudged his leg with his foot. "Seriously, little brother, thanks for taking such good care of me tonight. You saved me from a very lonely and miserable Christmas Eve in my room."

"Hey, I'm kinda enjoying the company myself," Joe replied, feeling a blush creep up his neck. He looked over at his brother and found himself at the receiving end of a very affectionate smile.

Frank's smile turned into a grin as Joe's blush spread to his cheeks, and Joe quickly cleared his throat and grabbed the remote from the coffee table. "Ready for another movie?"

Frank smiled knowingly before suppressing a yawn. "Sure, though I can't promise I'll stay awake. What's the next one on the list?"

"Harry Potter?"

"Bring it on."