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phoenix18990 · 4 months

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Hey all, this sickfic has spoilers from Season 5 Episode 13... vomiting, concussions, and PTSD. Please enjoy!

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Its one thing to hear someone throwing up through a closed door, its another thing entirely to witness someone throwing up in front of you. Especially if the entire time you have known them, they were depicted as a strong and steady person. At least that's what Buck thought, until he was in that very situation.

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Chris had called his best friend, when his dad locked him out of his dad's room and started destroying everything in sight.

Buck had stayed by Eddie's side until the tears had stopped flowing and the older man was able to breathe again.

He had told himself he would stay until both his boys were asleep, and yet here he was cleaning up Eddie's destroyed room at two o'clock in the morning, and he had work at eight in the morning. He had cleaned up and thrown away the debris, vacuumed the entire room from top to bottom, moved everything salvageable to the hallway, laid out plastic all over the floor, and was setting everything up to paint the room.

He looked around him, resolving to not sleep until the room was back in order, even if that meant it had been thirty-something hours of being awake, since the beginning of his last shift. Eddie was more important, Chris was more important, and he couldn't think of a better reason to not sleep. He was so deep in his own thoughts and sleep deprivation, that he didn't hear the door open or the soft footsteps on the plastic he'd carefully laid on the floor should his sleep-addled brain lead to spills of any kind.

"Whoa," was all that was said, making Buck jump back to the here and now.

"Oh hey, Eddie, you okay? I thought you were sleeping." Buck rambled a bit, he'd hoped to get it completely done before Eddie saw what he was doing.

"I was asleep, but I realized I didn't hear you leave. So I went looking for you," Eddie said thoughtfully, rubbing his stomach as he was talking.

"Oh, yeah. I figured I'd help you before heading home." Buck said in a nonchalant tone, as he looked at Eddie for a moment. He turned back to painting the walls, as he had already patched all the holes, and given them time to bond with the wall before starting to paint.

"Don't you have a shift in the am?" Eddie asked in a wounded voice, the same voice that had been there when he lost his carefully built composure, which scared Chris, Buck, and himself.

Buck shrugged. "Maybe, it's okay though." He said, smiling as he kept painting. "You can go back to sleep if you want to," he offered, as Eddie had gone too quiet for a time.

Eddie's face was completely blank, as if he were lost in his thoughts and didn't want anyone to know how big of a mess he was. He stood silent for a moment, before taking off running into the hallway, startling Buck again.

"Eddie? Is it Chris?!" Buck asked, jumping to his feet and moving to the doorway to try to figure out what was wrong.

Instead of responding, Eddie slammed and locked the bathroom door he ran through, moments later there was harsh gagging noises from behind the door.

"Oh Eddie," Buck said softly in a calm voice, even if every fiber of his body was now leaking worry. He walked to the bathroom door, knocking softly. "Eddie?" He asked, after the man inside had fallen silent.

"I'm fine, Buck," came a weary and clipped voice from beyond the bathroom door.

Buck sighed quietly, settling down by the bathroom, to keep vigil while waiting to see if his help was needed. He pulled out his phone and text Josh followed by Bobby, knowing Eddie might kill him.

'Hey, Eddie is sick. I don't think you want him coming in and puking everywhere.' He sent Josh.

'Hey Bobby, I know I'm supposed to have a shift at 8, but Eddie is sick. Can I stay with him?' He sent to Bobby, getting as comfortable as he could get on the hard floor.

Moments later, Josh text him back. 'Keep him home. Oh and yes, Sue is going to have someone else cover him.'

Buck sent Josh a thumbs up emoji, relieved he had Eddie covered to stay home. He looked at the clock with a frown, wondering if Eddie had fallen asleep by the toilet.

As he was about to knock on the bathroom door, he got a text from Bobby. 'Buck, do you have any idea what time it is?! Oh nevermind, yes, take as much time as you need.'

Buck sighed in relief, knowing Eddie might be pissed with him. "Eddie, you okay in there?" He asked, with a soft knock on the door. He waited patiently for a response of any kind, before starting to consider the wisest way to get in the bathroom if his best friend didn't answer him soon.

He heard Eddie sigh, before he heard movement and the door opened slowly. He blinked up at the older man, taking a really good look at him. His best friend didn't look so good, and it had nothing to do with the vomiting.

"I thought I said..." Eddie trailed off with another sigh, looking more tired than Buck had ever seen him.

"When do I ever listen to anything anyone tells me to do?" Buck asked, getting up off the floor quietly, knowing Chris needed his sleep too.

Eddie rolled his eyes, which he knew was a bad decision instantly, as the whole room spun out of control, causing him to stagger backwards.

Buck saw something was wrong as soon as it started assaulting the older man. He grabbed Eddie's arm, not wanting the man to fall or hit the wall, orÂ risk waking the poor boy that asked for Buck's help. "What just happened?" he asked, a frown grazing his lips briefly.

"Rolled my eyes, made myself dizzy," Eddie mumbled, lifting his hand to cover his eyes for a moment, as he tried to regain his balance and composure. "I need to sit down," he admitted softly, with a hint of urgency in his tone.

Buck snapped to it, pulling his best friend to the chair he had removed from Eddie's room. One of the still whole and functional pieces of furniture that survived Eddie's onslaught.

Once Eddie had all but collapsed onto the chair, he doubled over with one arm wrapped tightly around his middle. "Ugh," he groaned softly, trying to not be too loud in his discomfort.

"Hey, what's wrong? Are you hungry?" Buck asked, not sure if Eddie had eaten after work.

Eddie swallowed hard, before shaking his head.

"Are you going to try to throw up again?" Buck asked, wracking his brain then remembered that he had extra plastic from his painting kit. He slipped past Eddie, darted around the furniture in the hall to spare the upholstery, and grabbed the tube of plastic right inside the room. He moved fast, putting plastic on the ground in front of Eddie's feet.

Eddie, who was so preoccupied watching Buck scurry about, that he forgot to pay attention to his body, was caught off guard by a surprising gag that rocked him forward over the plastic. With the first gag came only bitter saliva; the gag that followed produced a large rush of sour liquid and partially digested food.

Buck cringed, before disappearing into the bathroom, returning moments later with a clean wet washcloth and a Dixie cup full of water. His return was greeted with even more pouring from the older man's lips.

Once Eddie stopped trying to upchuck all the food he had eaten in the last year, he accepted the wet towel, which he used to clean up his face, then grabbed the Dixie cup and rinsed his mouth out, spitting the vomit flavored water onto the puddle on the plastic.

"Feeling any better?" Buck asked, as he put the back of his hand against Eddie's forehead. It didn't feel like he had a fever, at least not a high one.

Eddie looked up at Buck, feeling every last bit of color drain from his face, and he felt like he might pass out. "Mmm..." was all he could muster up.

Buck, who watched his best friend go unnaturally pale and start trembling, sprang into action. "Hey! Eddie?! Come on, man, talk to me." He urged, feeling something running down his cheek. He figured it was sweat, so ignored it.

"B...b...b...bloo...d..." Eddie gasped out, his eyes fluttering briefly, before he fought to open them again.

Buck frowned, clasping Eddie's neck gentle and firm, as he pushed it down until Eddie's head was between his knees. He kept one hand there, the other finding the older man's back to rub gentle circles. "There is no blood, you're okay, slow deep breaths." He encouraged over and over, as he could feel the older man was hyperventilating.

"You're bleeding," Eddie gasped, starting to get choked up all over again. "He shot you, didn't he?" He questioned in a broken voice.

Buck's eyebrows shot up so high, they met his hairline and disappeared. He wasn't bleeding, or was he? He reached up and touched where it felt wet, pulling his fingers back to see deep red staining his fingertips. "Crap!" He muttered more to himself than anyone else. He moved quickly, darting to the bathroom, flicked on the light, and looked in the mirror to find that he had a nice little gash, from the hairline to his eyebrow, right by his birthmark. He grabbed some toilet paper, wiping the blood away with a hiss of discomfort.

Once the majority of the blood was cleaned up, he could see he had cut himself when cleaning the room, and had been so preoccupied he hadn't even noticed it. He was fairly certain he didn't need stitches, and he wasn't on the blood thinner anymore, so he just finished cleaning it, until he heard a loud thump. Crap! Eddie!

He ran out of the bathroom, to see Eddie was in a heap near the wall, somehow managing to pass out without landing in the vomit that felt like it happened hours, even days, ago.

He knelt beside Eddie's unconscious form, putting his hands on the older man's shoulders. "Hey, hey, come on! Eddie! Come on, man! Come on, wake up!" he said over and over, trying to rouse the man. Finally after a couple very tense moments, the older man stirred with a groan.

"B'?" Eddie mumbled, wrinkling his nose when a whiff of the vomit assaulted his senses.

"Yeah, I'm here. I'm going to help you sit up." Buck said in a steady tone, as he braced his best friend, his hands sliding under the man's armpits and lifted him with ease. Once the man was leaning against the wall, the younger man could see that his best friend was struggling to stay awake and/or not throw up.

Eddie groaned as he was moved, too disoriented to help and too exhausted to aid in getting up. "M' tired," he mumbled out, his eyes closing for a brief moment before a light slap to his cheek roused him again. "M...?" he questioned, too worn out to be more articulate.

"You just lost consciousness, am I supposed to let you go back to sleep? Especially if I don't know if you gave yourself a concussion," Buck explained, hoping that him talking like a first responder would help trigger the instincts of the man in front of him.

A confused sense of understanding crossed the older man's face, as his tired brain started generating questions and facts. "The 'patient' needs to stay awake, use a small light to check for pupillary reactiveness or abnormalities, check the pulse for too weak or too strong a pace, and check for fever. If all comes back normal or only slightly elevated, administer water, or put in an IV to avoid dehydration that was triggered by the vomiting." Eddie mumbled, sounding more and more exhausted with each word that came out of his mouth.

Buck worked quickly to do everything the older man had listed off. "Awake, check." He said thoughtfully, as he grabbed his phone out of his pocket to use his phone's flashlight to test Eddie's pupillary response. "Pupils: left one is enlarged, the right is normal," he added, taking the man's wrist placing his pointer and middle finger along the wrist bone to count the pulse. "Pulse is faster than normal, about 115 beats per minute." He added, looking at the Army vet for instruction.

"Sounds like a grade 2 concussion..." the Army vet said softly, his voice trailing off after the few words slipped from his lips.

Buck nodded, as he realized he didn't know how to treat a concussion, not completely. "So how do I help the uh... 'patient' so he can rest and feel better?" He asked simply, worrying that Eddie would need further medical care.

Eddie shook his head, as if shaking it would clear the fog from his mind. "The 'patient' is fine, Buck. Just tired, dizzy, and nauseated." He said, making Buck chuckle at being caught in his elaborate ruse to help treat himself. "My biggest issue is that I want to sleep, and possibly puke at the same time." He added after a quiet moment of thought, feeling like he was literally grasping at straws to try to understand what was going on around him.

He could feel his head throb with each breath he took, he could hear the slight buzzing in his ears making it hard for him to concentrate on anything but his ears, he could smell the vomit close by which was only ramping up his already present and intensifying nausea, he could feel his heart racing instead of being at its usual even pace, he could feel his body so overdrawn and exhausted that all it wanted was for him to sleep, and he could feel Buck's hand on his knee offering a loving, caring, and safe feeling to pass over him.

"You okay, Eddie?" Buck asked, watching his every move carefully for signs of danger.

Eddie blinked a couple times, bringing himself out of his head and to a mental space that would allow him to talk to Buck more coherently, or so he hoped. "M... yeah, just uh... thinking." He stammered, realizing that his brain and mouth were not working very well together. Go figure.

"Alright, you gonna be okay while I get you more water?" Buck asked, concern thick in his voice.

"I know that mm... tone," Eddie managed to say, looking at Buck through blurry eyes. The older man knew that tone meant something was bothering the man beside him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what was going on. If he was being honest, his head was starting to feel like his room had looked earlier that evening.

"It's nothing, Eddie. Let's get you hydrated, then I will help you to the couch to sleep this off." Buck said, beyond relieved he had asked for them both not to work in the morning.

Eddie didn't know exactly what was going on, but he did know something was off with his best friend, which kind of broke through the effects of the concussion enough to clear his thoughts for a moment.

"Wait," he said, a bit sharper than he meant to, and grabbed Buck's hand when the man stood up to walk back to the bathroom.

Buck stopped, turning to look at Eddie in surprise. "What's wrong, you okay?" He asked, immediately looking the man up and down in concern that something had changed.

"Fine, I just... don't want you to leave." Eddie admitted shyly, as he tried to think of how to ask the man before him to stay in eyesight range, since he wasn't entirely sure that he was even close to feeling okay, even if his vitals said he wasn't in any danger.

Buck's features softened, as he nodded, seeming to understand Eddie's request without the man having to utter another word. He offered a hand to help Eddie up, hoping to get him to the couch and resting, so he could finish the bedroom while his best friends slept the rest of the night away.

Eddie took Buck's hand, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet, increasingly grateful that Buck hadn't let go yet, as standing made him so dizzy he could have passed out all over again.

"M... Bu..." he mumbled, his eyes drifting shut of their volition.

Buck grabbed Eddie's other arm with his free arm, somehow jarring the man enough to distract him enough to not pass out then and there. "Hey, keep your eyes open until we reach the couch, then you can sleep." he explained, hoping to keep his lover, not lover, best friend awake until he could be settled on the couch.

Eddie nodded slowly, allowing Buck to all but drag him down the hall and to the couch. He collapsed onto the couch, his head falling back until it connected with the back board of the couch. "Mmm..." he groaned as his head connected.

"Oh Eddie. Think you can stomach some meds? You have a minor fever, on top of that Grade 2 concussion." Buck explained, wondering if he needed to take Eddie to the ER.

Eddie shrugged, allowing his eyes to close in pure exhaustion. He felt a light slap on his cheek again, but he didn't have the energy to open his eyes.

"M?" He asked, his tone and lack of articulation betraying just how exhausted he felt.

"Meds first, then you can sleep." Buck said in a gentle but insistent voice.

"K," was all Eddie could think to say. He was so tired that arguing would have been a useless use of his depleted energy reserves.

Buck got up from the couch, walked to the bathroom where the medicine cabinet was, found some acetaminophen and some meclizine that he was relived to find, before heading back to the living room with his prizes. "Here take these three pills, then you can go back to sleep." He said, putting another dixie cup of water in Eddie's hand, along with the three pills.

He watched Eddie do as he was told, before moving towards the hall again.

"Stay... please..." he heard Eddie say in a low voice, and turned to see the Army vet was looking at him intently.

"Can I finish your room first?" Buck asked, really wanting to finish it, so he could relax and get some sleep too.

Eddie shook his head no, before frowning in discomfort.

"Alright, scoot over." Buck said, moving back to the couch and sitting down beside his best friend. As soon as he was comfortable, Eddie laid down, with his head in Buck's lap.

Eddie smiled, as he heard Buck start humming a random tune, and drifted off to sleep with the sound of the man that had literally saved him humming.

No sooner was Eddie asleep, Buck joined him. Finally giving in to his exhausted body's request to rest.

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I hope you all enjoyed this fic. Please let me know if you would like a sequel. I am currently working on multiple requests and a couple of sequels, so please bear with me. Thanks. As always: drop a note, comment, and request away. Love you all! <3

#vomiting #sickfic #eddie diaz #evan buckley

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phoenix18990 · 5 years

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Set around Season 2, but no spoilers if you have watched that far.

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Stefan, Elena, and Jeremy walked into the Salvatore boarding house.

"Remind me again, why are we here?" Jeremy asked in boredom. He had never been a huge fan of Stefan and Damon, really any vampires besides Anna.

Stefan sighed softly, reminding himself to have more patience.

"You're both here to clean up Damon's latest escapade, before someone finds it. Or wanders into the house, which has happened, much to our annoyance." Stefan explained, gesturing to the broken/ overturned furniture and broken glass.

"Really?! I didn't sign up to be on your brother's clean up duty." Jeremy snapped in agitation, not wanting to be here at all.

Stefan sighed again. "Jeremy, please help me and Elena out." he asked calmly, not one to beg.

"Jer, please?" Elena pleaded, not wanting to clean up everything with just Stefan. If Jeremy stuck around, it would help keep them focused on the task at hand, instead of each other.

"Fine, but you owe me!" Jer grouched, before disappearing in search of a broom.

"Kitchen pantry," Stefan called after Jeremy, knowing what he was looking for on instinct.

"Thanks." Jer grumbled, before mumbling under his breath. "Stupid vampires and their super hearing."

Stefan chuckled softly, grabbing an overturned chair and setting it upright.

"Where's Damon? Shouldn't he be the one cleaning up HIS mess?" Elena demanded, not at all thrilled, to be helping Damon with anything.

"I believe he is upstairs, nursing a headache or something." Stefan said, with a shrug. He continued cleaning up the overturned furniture, while Elena and Jeremy worked on the glass.

"Damon, get your butt down here, and clean up your own mess!" Elena yelled at the top of her lungs.

"You don't have to yell." Damon whined, walking slowly down the stairs.

He was pale, even for a vampire. It was clear to all three, that there was something off about the 170 (ish) year old vampire.

Elena looked up angrily, freezing when she saw his face. All her anger vanished, as she looked from Stefan to Damon and back.

"Brother, are you alright?" Stefan asked, upon seeing Elena's worried face.

"I'm fine, brother." Damon said, rolling his eyes, looking away quickly as he paled further.

"Then you can help us clean." Elena said firmly, putting her hands on her hips haughtily.

Stefan watched Damon closely, as the older brother bent down to pick up a broken cup, stopping to put a hand to his stomach.

Damon ran upstairs, at lightening speed, as he felt his stomach churn. He wasn't used to illness, since vampires don't get sick on a regular basis. In fact, unless a witch cursed them, vampires didn't get sick at all.

"Where did he go now?" Elena griped in frustration.

Stefan listened silently, frowning in concern as he heard Damon's stomach churning.

"I think Damon might be sick." Stefan said, concern evident in his eyes.

"Wait, what?! I thought vampires don't get sick like conventional people." Jeremy said, in confusion, as he stopped sweeping up glass.

Elena was too stunned to say anything, as she looked at the stairs in concern.

"Its very rare, but its possible for someone to grind up vervain into a fine powder and mix it in our food. It will basically be impossible to pick up, but after a while, will give us food poisoning." Stefan explained thoughtfully, as he continued trying to listen for his brother's predicament.

"Should I go check on him?" Elena whispered to Stefan, knowing Damon still probably heard her.

"Sure, its less likely to get dangerous if its you." Stefan said, with a nod.

Elena nodded slowly, walking upstairs to Damon's room. She stopped in the doorway, walking in apprehensively. She could see Damon laying on his bed, one arm over his eyes and the other over his stomach.

"Why are you up here?" Damon demanded, his voice cracking as he spoke.

Elena flinched, climbing gingerly onto his bed, to assess his condition.

"Here to make sure you don't spontaneously waste away." Elena said barely above a whisper.

Damon peeked at her, groaning softly as he recovered his eyes.

"Headache? Nausea? Any other symptoms?" Elena asked softly, sighing under her breath.

"Yes, yes, um... Dizziness and chills." Damon answered heavily, swallowing convulsively.

Elena nodded her understanding, as she got off the bed carefully. She walked into his bathroom, grabbing the trash can and a bunch of dark-colored towels. She walked back to Damon's bed, laying the towels all over the bed and put the trash can beside him.

"The towels are in case you get sick, and can't grab the trash can... beside you." Elena explained gently, as she touched his forehead lightly.

"Thank you, Elena." Damon said softly, leaning into her touch with a moan.

"Is it possible for you to get a fever?" Elena asked curiously, noticing that he was slightly warmer than normal.

"It is a definite possibility, given that the vervain in our stomachs causes an infection of sorts." Stefan said suddenly, causing Damon and Elena to jump.

Damon groaned, coughing up some blood that dribbled down the corner of his mouth.

Elena grabbed an extra towel off the bed, dabbing at the dripping blood.

Stefan turned and left the room, catching Elena's eye in warning to how sick Damon felt. He could hear his brother's stomach flipping and churning painfully.

Elena pulled a chair up to the bed, not wanting to be in the way of a speeding sick person.

Damon curled on his side, facing away from Elena to try to keep his composure intact. He closed his eyes, as he suddenly hiccuped and lurched forward weakly.

Blood poured from Damon's mouth, coating some of the towels on his bed. He whimpered softly, hacking and sputtering as more blood and some half-digested food came up onto the towels.

"That's it, bring it all up." Elena encouraged, rubbing his back lightly.

Damon grabbed her hand, clutching it tightly as he sat up quickly. He projectile vomited blood on to the towels on the end of his bed, inwardly relieved that she had thought ahead.

He finally stopped choking up blood and sat, staring at the mess with wide eyes. He let go of Elena's hand, before looking at her shyly.

"Thank you, Elena." Damon breathed out weakly. He leaned back against his headboard tiredly, knowing he should have cleaned up first.

Elena shrugged, removing the dirty towels, putting them in the sink to soak, and recovered the bed with new towels.

"Its no big deal. You should get some rest." she said gently, trying to hide her blush.

"Can you come lay with me?" Damon asked weakly, for once he wasn't being sexual or inappropriate.

Elena sighed, turning to look at him. Instead of being angry, as per usual, she was shocked by weak and exhausted he actually looked.

"Alright, but don't puke on me." Elena relented, climbing into bed with him. She made sure the towels still covered the bed... just in case.

Damon curled up against her chest, nodding tiredly as he fell asleep.

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There you have it, the first sickfic. If you want a sequel to this let me know. Or if you have any other requests, let me know!

#sickfic #vampiredaires #damon salvatore

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