Cameron To Candy

It was a crisp Roddenbery morning in Paddlewick. Gray clouds rolled over the hills, moisture clung to the hedges, and spiderwebs caught the dew and showed it off. Marcus had just finished feeding Hearthwind, his last mare, patting her neck while she chewed. He thought of their final campaign together before his army years were up. Lucky thing, being allowed to buy her out; otherwise, who knew where she’d have ended up. Probably another soldier, but maybe dog meat, or perhaps the glue works. A depressing thought, so he gave her one more pat and went inside.

Breakfast was on the stove by the time the kettle whistled. By law, it ought to have been Candy’s job, the wife up before the husband, eggs fried, bacon crisped, grease drained, hash browned, maybe ham if the market had it. But Marcus had long since stopped pushing that point. He’d done the math. The cost of the food Candy burned outweighed the Ministry’s small “chore deferral fee.” That wasn’t even a strategy on her part, it was genuinely a natural inability to cook anything unburned. It was easier to take the fee, keep the kitchen intact, and eat in peace.

He plated his own breakfast, then went up to fetch her. “Hey, lazybones,” he called as he pushed the door open. “Breakfast’s ready. Time to get up.”

A groan came from under the blanket. Candy rolled half over, eyes crusted, nose stuffed, cheeks red as lantern glass.

“Ugh,” she croaked. “I don’t feel so good.”

Marcus recoiled slightly. “Ew! … Er, I uh, I mean, I can see that.” He reached into the nightstand, pulled out the little green pamphlet stamped with the Ministry seal: Household Health Compliance, Section IV - Wifely Illness. He flipped pages with the precision of a man resigned to bureaucracy. “Okay. There are procedures here. We’ll take it from the top.”

Candy narrowed one eye. “Procedures?”

“Yes,” Marcus said calmly. “Step one, fever check.” He rumaged around for the thermometer.

Candy waved a hand, still half-asleep. “Yeah, yeah, just get the—”

And then it hit her. Her eyes snapped open. Her entire body went rigid.

“…Wait.”

Marcus, unfortunately, looked far too calm. Candy slowly sat up, clutching the blankets around her.

“Marcus,” she said, voice suddenly very serious. “When you say you need to check my temperature… how do you plan on doing that?”

Marcus rubbed the back of his neck. Candy’s eyes widened.

“Oh my gods,” she whispered. “You’re not talking about putting the thermometer in my mouth, are you?”

Marcus sighed heavily. “Candy—”

“No,” she snapped. “No, absolutely not. You’re joking.”

Marcus gave her a painfully resigned look, then raised the oversized rectal thermometer. Candy stared in horror.

“Marcus. Marcus! You are joking.”

Marcus looked her dead in the eye.

“…I am not joking.”

Candy threw off the blankets immediately.

“This kingdom is a hellhole,” she announced.

Marcus sighed, already expecting this reaction. “Candy—”

“No. No.” She shoved a pillow against her face. “Women don’t get their temperatures checked orally in Paddlewick! Look I, er, at least let me do it myself!”

Marcus hesitated and checked the pamphlet.

“Yeah, uh, sorry, this is going to be, well, really awkward. But the procedure says a husband, or in an emergency a matron of good standing, must take a wife's temperature rectally. Wives are not allowed to self-report.”

Candy let out a strangled noise. “No,” she cut him off, flailing dramatically. “You are not sticking a thermometer there!”

Marcus, trying his best to be reasonable, said, “Look, it’s not like I make the rules.”

“But you are following them!”

Marcus sighed. “Yeah, sorry, Paddlewick takes the medical stuff pretty seriously. There’s no ‘getting out of it and pay a fine’ option here. The default to me right now is Mrs. Prim or the closest willing Matron. Do you want me to call Mrs. Prim instead? Or one of the neighborhood matrons?”

Candy immediately paled.

“…Oh gludge.”

“And of course we’d have to swear them to secrecy under the level four seal, because you know they’d notice a couple of things down there. It’ll be a whole thing.”

That was worse. So much worse. If Mrs. Prim showed up, she wouldn’t just check Candy’s temperature; she would lecture her about her duties, tell her to drink some vile herbal nonsense, and probably demand to supervise the entire thing to ensure Marcus was “doing it properly.” Worse still, there’d be the whole “Oh, by the way, I’ve got a dick. Have fun keeping that secret for the rest of your life, under penalty of the strictest law in the land,” thing.

Candy collapsed back onto the bed, covering her face.

“This is the worst day of my life.”

Marcus sighed. “You said that last week.”

“And it’s true again today!”

Marcus turned the pamphlet so she could see the line, then closed it with a snap. “Step one. Lubricate the thermometer. Check. Step two. Insert thermometer.”

Candy groaned into the pillow. “Gludge, you’ve got to be kidding me. No, don’t!”

He set the form down and gently rolled her over. She yelped a little as she turned, and he pinned her down gently with one hand on her back. If not for the horror of it she might have been impressed with his gentle precision. Next, he tugged her nightie up just enough.

“Don’t you dare make fun of me for this later,” she warned, cheeks hot with more than just the fever.

“Believe me,” Marcus muttered, positioning the thing with care, “this is not the sight I wanted either.” Her perfect heart-shaped buttocks were actually a nice sight. The tiny man bits that remained, though hardly there, still were a far less pleasant sight. And then there was the anus…

She flinched as the glass slid in. “Ow! Uuuugh! There’s no way this needs to be this big. Some sadistic bastard designed this just to laugh.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, voice mild. “But step three is leave it in for a minimum of two minutes.”

Candy buried her face again. “Perfect. Just perfect. Most humiliating day of my life.”

They sat in horrific, awkward silence. Then, she felt it turn. A small twist, then another. Then it pressed a little deeper, then pull out a bit more, than back deeper again. Her head shot up. Marcus was casually moving the thermometer about, a vacant expression on his face.. “What… what the fire-hell are you doing? Hey! Knock it off! That feels weird!”

Marcus froze, then cleared his throat. “Sorry! It’s a habit. I twirl my quill when I’m writing and thinking too long.”

She glared over her shoulder. “Yeah? Why don’t I shove a quill up your butt and twirl it around, see how you like it?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “The Ministry doesn’t have a form for that.”

Candy groaned into the pillow again. “I hate this country.”

A moment later Candy winced as he took it out. “102. That’s pretty high,” Marcus declared, letting Candy free.

"Yeah, I have a fever. I told you that! You didn't need to stick that glass monstrosity up my-"

"Well time for bed!"

Candy rested for a while, but the fever left her cranky, foggy, and ready to argue with anything that moved. The pamphlet, however, was clear: push liquids, maintain bed rest, ensure comfort. Marcus took it like gospel. He appeared half an hour later with a steaming mug that smelled faintly of wet hay and despair.

Candy eyed it like a weapon. “What’s in it?”

Marcus sat on the edge of the bed. “Herbs.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What kind of herbs?”

“The healing kind,” he said, frowning.

“I don’t trust it.”

“Oh for—Candy, it’s just tea. Drink it.”

She stared at it like it might sprout teeth. “Or what? You’ll make me apologize?”

Marcus gave her a dry look. “I can hold you down and pour it into your mouth.”

Candy bolted upright. “You wouldn’t.”

He paused. “…That was a joke.”

“Was it?”

Marcus sighed. “Yes, but now I’m considering it.”

“Oh, well, that’s comforting.” She took the mug and sipped the smallest possible sip. Her face contorted. “Oh god, Marcus. What is this?”

“I told you, herbs,” he said, smirking.

“Herbs from what? The death flower?”

Marcus set the cup back on the nightstand, watching her gag face with thin amusement.

“Drink more,” he said.

Candy pulled the blanket up to her chin. “No. I already did my sip. That’s enough.”

“One sip does not count as ‘pushing liquids.’”

“It does if the liquid tastes like death.”

“Candy…”

She groaned, flopping sideways with full dramatics. “I’m sick, not stupid. I know when you’re trying to poison me.”

Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s literally tea from a Ministry-issued kit.”

“Exactly. Poison.”

He tucked the blankets tighter. She immediately kicked them off with both feet, glaring.

“You need to stay warm.”

“I’m too warm.”

“That’s because you have a fever.”

“Then congratulations,” Candy snapped. “The system works.”

Marcus’s mouth twitched. “What? What does that even mean?" Cameron had always been a pill to deal with when he was sick, but Candy, dear gods, she was taking it to a whole new level. "Look, I’ve got to fill out the form and I can’t write that down.”

“Go ahead. Write ‘wife stubborn, still dying, no thanks to her husband.’”

"Good gods. You're lucky the ministry stops tracking tone infractions while women have fevers or you'd be–"

Before Marcus could finish, a sharp knock rattled the doorframe. Candy sat bolt upright, hair a mess, eyes suddenly alight. “Oh good. Maybe it’s someone here to save me from you.”

Marcus sighed, standing. “Highly doubtful.” He tucked her in with an additional blanket, then headed for the stairs anyway, the sound of Candy’s muttered sarcasm following him down.

When he opened the door, two young women stood waiting: one raven-haired, tall and composed; the other golden-haired, smiling bright enough to light the gray day.

“Good afternoon, sir,” the dark-haired one said with a precise dip of her head. “My name is Alyssa Halberdine. I'm told you've met my companion, Vivian Corkhollow. We apologize for disturbing you, but I believe this is the residence of Candy Elwood?”

Marcus nodded. “Yes, it is. I’m her husband, Marcus Elwood. It’s nice to meet you, Alyssa. Candy talks about you often.”

“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Elwood,” Alyssa said smoothly. “I've likewise heard much.”

Vivian grinned. “Good to see you again, Mr. Elwood, but we were a little worried. Candy never misses bathhouse day. It’s the only thing she’s ever on time for, so…”

Alyssa added, “Indeed. Her punctuality is often questionable, with that one exception.”

Marcus laughed. “That sounds about right. Sorry, girls, she’s not feeling well today. There was no way she could make it down.”

“Oh, that’s unfortunate,” Alyssa said softly.

“Yeah,” Vivian agreed. “May we see her for a moment?”

Marcus nodded. “I imagine she’d like the company.” He stepped aside to lead them up the stairs.

Candy was propped against the headboard, cocooned in two blankets that swallowed her almost to the chin. Her hair had flattened on one side from hours of sleep and stuck out on the other like she’d fought it. Her nose was raw from handkerchiefs, cheeks blotched with fever-roses, eyes rimmed and heavy-lidded. A tray sat on the nightstand with half a cup of tea gone cold and the Almanac pamphlet Marcus had left lying there.

She looked up as the door opened, blinking through the fever haze. When she saw Alyssa’s sleek raven hair and Vivian’s bright golden head duck in together, Candy managed a crooked smile. “Oh, wonderful. My fan club.”

Alyssa’s first look softened as soon as she saw Candy swaddled in blankets. “You look dreadful,” she said gently, though her dark eyes betrayed sympathy.

Vivian, of course, grinned. “You look like you lost a fight with a laundry line. And the laundry won.”

Candy barked a laugh that dissolved into a coughing fit. She waved them off, wheezing. “Okay, no more jokes. It hurts.”

They smiled, amused but also visibly concerned.

Vivian leaned forward, mischief lighting her golden hair. “So, Candy, has Marcus taken your temperature yet?”

Candy’s eyes flew wide. “Um. We don’t need to talk about that.”

“Oh, I think we do,” Vivian said, positively delighted. “Did you earn your pin for taking it gracefully? Were you a good girl?”

Alyssa tapped her chin thoughtfully. “If I recall, the Fortitude Gauge Pin¹ Awarded the first time a wife undergoes Ministry-approved temperature taking “with dignity” — that is, insertion & removal without undue complaint, sarcasm or outburst. comes with a gold coin as well.”

Vivian smirked. “I think the design is a woman bending over with a rod sticking out.” She laughed at her own invention.

Candy groaned, pulling the blanket over her head. “Ha ha. Very funny.” Candy threw a pillow at her.

Vivian dodged effortlessly. Candy ducked back into her sheet for a minute, then peeked back out a moment later, narrowing her eyes. “Wait. My husband takes my temperature. How do you, unmarried girls do it?”

Vivian stared. “Wait. You don’t know?”

“No,” Candy said, putting weight into her cover story. “Diplomat’s daughter, remember? I grew up mostly out of Paddlewick, and then in the trouble girl program after my parents were killed.”

Vivian shrugged. “Right, uh, sorry. Well, my mother does it. Awkward, sure, but better than my dad!”

Candy huffed at that, then her eyes went to Alyssa. “And you… you’re under your brother’s care, aren’t you? No female matrons in the house?” she asked with a growing grin.

Vivian lit up like the sun. She turned on Alyssa with a a disturbingly wide smile. “Oh my gods. Alyssa. Tell us. Tell us about your experience.”

“We do not need to discuss it,” she replied.

“Oh, yes we do!” Candy called.

Alyssa lifted her chin. “First of all,” she said, tight-lipped, “I am very rarely sick.”

The room broke. Candy collapsed into helpless laughter, coughing between gasps. Vivian nearly fell off her chair, smacking her knee. “Oh my gods Candy! Candy! I’ve known Alyssa for years, and I never thought about this before. Hours! Hours of joy this will bring me!”

Alyssa sat with perfect posture, color in her cheeks, dignity stretched to its limit. “If you two are quite finished,” she said icily.

Vivian only cackled harder. “Never. Bless you, Candy Elwood. In the name of Gulpedia, Veridicus and Blibbleblop, bless you forever!”

Alyssa glared. She never got to whatever second point she’d originally had.

“I will kill you both in your sleep,” she said, deadpanned.

“Ohhh,” Candy sighed happily, leaning back into her pillows. “This was so worth getting sick for,” her laughter turning into a hacking cough. “Oh, oh don’t make me laugh anymore. I can’t take it!” she wheezed.

From downstairs, Marcus shook his head, chuckling. Conversation eventually drifted, and Candy sipped her disgusting tea, utterly victorious in her turn around of the initial husband temperature checking tease.

Eventually, Marcus had to go up and let the girls know visiting time was over. Candy needed her rest. So, with his most polite, husbandly voice, he said, “Ladies, as much as I know Candy enjoys your company, she does need to rest.”

Candy snorted. “Oh, yes. Clearly, I’m on my deathbed.”

Alyssa narrowed her eyes at her. “You will be if you ever bring up this conversation again.”

Marcus clapped his hands together. “Well! This has been fun.”

Vivian, noting his attempt at diplomacy, turned her sight towards the kitchen.

“Mr. Elwood,” she said sweetly, “before we go, would you mind if we make her a batch of soup?”

This caught Marcus by surprise.

Candy perked up. “Oh. Yes. Do that!”

Marcus nodded. “No complaints from me. Thank you, Vivian. That’s very kind of you.”

“Good,” Vivian said. “Alyssa, let’s go find your brother’s famous soup recipe.”

Alyssa smiled. “Laugh all you like, dear friend. Just remember, I have a much longer memory than you do.”

Marcus sighed as the two women headed to the kitchen, still bickering.

“Why do I feel like this friendship is going to cause me problems?”

Candy snickered. “Because it is.” Marcus rubbed his temples.

Thirty minutes later, they prepared to exit, leaving a steaming pot of soup on the stove with instructions for Marcus. And, of course, Vivian couldn’t leave without one final shot. She paused at the stairwell, smiling sweetly.

“Oh, and Candy?” she called up.

Candy tilted her head. “Yeah?” she called back.

Vivian grinned wickedly. “On your next temperature check, just close your eyes and pretend you’re preparing to earn your Graceful Acceptance pin²Also known as the Back Door Entry (or Initial Acceptance) – Earned the first time a wife engages in anal sex without notable fuss. It is a "hidden panel pin" and thus does not come with coin or store perks, but does earn a complimentary bottle of Ministry-grade lubricant!”

Candy nearly spit out her tea. “Get out!”

The two cackled as they disappeared out the front door. The echo of their laughter trailed down the street. Marcus shook his head, amused. Candy groaned into her pillow. This day would be burned into her memory forever.