But anyways I’m being brave and posting what I have of my Peter sickfic so far. It’s an alternate storyline for the episode One Man Shy where Peter ends up sick in time for the party
"Okay Pete," Micky took the coat from around Valerie’ s shoulders and hung it on the coat rack, then pulled the chair out for her, scooting it in when she sat. "Just like that, give it a try."
"Okay, I’ll try." He took Valerie’s coat, layed it on the ground, then hung the chair on the hook, looking up to Micky with a sheepish grin. "I think I got a little mixed up…"
"It’s okay," Micky shook his head, "Nobody gets it on the first try." Valerie seemed to second this, as she smiled and nodded, the smile making Peter’s head swim and his knees knock.
Why did she have to be so darn beautiful? If she weren’t, he was certain he wouldn’t be in this mess. He wouldn’t be feeling his pounding heartbeat, he wouldn’t feel weak at the knees, or dizzy in the head… He was no Ronnie, that was for sure. He wished he could be as charming and confident as the one who had claimed Valerie for his own. But he wouldn’t be bold enough.
"I’ve got to head back home, could you give me a ride?" Valerie looked hopefully to Peter, whose expression had fallen to one of sad thoughtfulness. Micky spoke up on his behalf, noticing this.
"Uh, I’ll take you home, Valerie. Peter wants to stay here and practice hanging chairs some more. Right, Pete?" Micky gently took her by the arm, guiding her toward the Monkeemobile.
"Yeah," Peter’s attempt at his usual bright smile was a weak one.
"Oh, alright." Valerie smiled at him, her heart hiding a bit of worry for her new friend. "I’ll see you at the party!"
"Of course." He smiled emptily until the car disappeared down the road. He took his jacket and began to walk, not taking heed of the dark rainclouds above him.
"Where’s Peter?" Davy asked, walking downstairs. He noticed Mike nervously pacing the floor. Apparently, he was late to the party. "Hasn’t he come in yet?"
"Not yet," Mike confirmed as a loud clap of thunder rattled the windows.
"Man, I sure hope he gets back here soon," Micky spoke up, "He didn’t seem himself when I left to take Valerie home. And," another thought occured to him, "He’s afraid of storms."
Just then the door was thrown open. A loud crack of thunder and a bright flash of lightning illuminated the figure in the doorway. The three boys huddled together quickly as the figure emitted a low groan.
"Yipes!" Micky jumped up into Davy’s arms. "Don’t let it get me!"
As the groan dragged out, the noise began to become unstable. “Unnnghhhhuh… Huh-huhT’SHHOO!”
Mike sighed in relief, “It’s only Peter.”
Micky hopped out of Davy’s arms, chuckling sheepishly at the look he got from the Englishman. Then he turned his attention to Peter. “Peter!”
"Man, where were you?" Davy asked.
"We were worried sick!" Added Mike. "It ain’t like you to wander off an’ not come home."
"D-don’t worry ab-bout m-me…" Peter sniffed quietly, trudging his soaking wet, shivering self into the kitchen, where he sat down heavily in a chair.
The three boys shared a look. “He doesn’t look too good.”
"Did he ever?" Micky jested.
Mike gave him a look, “He’s obviously upset over that girl, right?”
"Right," Micky and Davy agreed in unison.
"So one of us has gotta talk to ‘im, right?"
"Right." The two looked at each other before nodding and turning back to Mike. "You talk to him."
The Texan walked to the kitchen, already coming up with a plan, a quick talk about how great of a charmer he is, and how he’s sure Valerie will love him at the party, but all that melted away when he saw his friend. Peter was in the chair, eyes half-closed, rubbing his nose childishly. He had a slight pink tinge to his cheeks and nose.
"Hey buddy," Mike pulled up a chair and sat beside him, "You’re not lookin’ too good."
“‘m fine…” He muttered, a fierce shiver running up his spine. He crossed his arms over his chest in attempt to hide it.
"How’d your practice with Mick go?"
"Fine." He stated simply, quietly, and singularly.
"You sure? Because he said—"
Peter stood up, flinging his arms out in exasperation, which in turn sent a splash of water Mike’s way. “Okay, it went awful, alright?” He felt tears beginning to build behind his eyes, but did his best to hold them back. “I’m not Ronnie! I’m not fancy or chivalrous, or- or even smart, like you guys! I don’t know how to treat a lady! I’ll never be good enough in time for the party,” he sniffed and wiped at his runny nose, but that caused a tickle, which he tried valiantly to ignore. “I’ll make a big fool of myself and they’ll all lahh— hah-t’shhhoo! Laugh at me and- and —At’chhOO! And Valerie will never take me ser… ser… rAag’TshHHOO! HaahTSHHOO! Ekg’tCHSHHOO!” He sneezed harshly down into his hands, the force of his eyes closing shut causing the tears he was trying to hold back to spill out.
"Hey, hey!" Mike leapt up as Peter swayed, steadying him by holding him to his chest. Peter clung to him steadfastly, crying into his chest. The small whimpers quickly sped up and shallowed out when he sneezed weakly into the fabric of his bandmate’s shirt and moaned. Mike reached a hand up and felt Peter’s forehead, wincing at the heat that met his hand there.
Micky and Davy, who were eavesdropping in the doorway, quickly rushed over. “Is he hot?” Micky asked.
"Hotter than a fur coat in July." Mike still supported the blonde’s weight. "Help me get ‘im on the couch, will ya?" Micky supported half of Peter’s weight, slipping an arm around his shoulders. "Davy, get ‘im a couple aspirin an’ a wet rag or somethin’ to cool him off."
They layed Peter down on the couch, crouching beside him with worry on their faces. “g-g-guys…” he muttered almost unintelligibly, “I’m c-cold…” he curled up as small as he could manage, hugging himself for warmth and whimpering.
"We know, Peter." Mike turned to Micky, "go up n’ grab ‘im a blanket off the bed."
"Got it." Micky took off just as Davy came back in.