#ghost flu

[fentoaster]

my piece for this year's @ecto-implosion 💥Check out SpiritualEagle's wonderful fic to go along with it!

[angellayercake]

I think I have ghlu

[theorist-fox]

Simon breaks your fever

Because I can't stop thinking about this

18+

CW: you're sick (fever, high body temp), fluff, established relationship, smut (clit rubbing, unprotected p in v sex, premature ejaculation). you're so hot (literally) that simon busts a nut

Masterlist 🦊

Your fever hasn’t gone down.

Despite you telling Simon that it’s okay, that it’s just seasonal flu and pretty much half of your colleagues have had it, that man can’t stop fussing.

On day two, you heard him grumble over the phone that he had to take some days off for family matters. And while it was cute to listen to him refer to you as family, this whole thing was an overreaction.

You had a cold and a mild fever; you weren’t on your deathbed.

But then he came into the bedroom straight after ending the call, holding a cuppa in one hand and your pills in the other. Left them on the nightstand before pressing his lips to your forehead to check if you were still warm—grumbled something about you heating up the room when he pulled back with a frown.

And then he helped you sit up, fluffed the pillow behind your head, and smoothed away the hair sticking to your forehead. Made sure you took your pills, made sure you were comfortable and cared for and—

—and oh, isn’t your heart melting into a puddle.

You decide that being sick can’t be that bad, when he makes it feels this good—even if you’re cranky and feverish.

And so, you start offering bright smiles when he presses cold, wet towels to your cheeks. Brush kisses on his knuckles when his palm comes to feel your forehead. Whisper thank yous when he insists you eat in bed, your bowl of soup carefully placed on a wooden bed tray.

And when he gets in bed at night, seemingly unafraid of catching your same bug, you press your back to his chest and fit in his arms. Simon’s already a walking furnace on his own, and your fever doesn't help with the uncomfortable stickiness that grows between your bodies through the night.

Simon doesn’t care, especially on day three, when you decide that a reward is on schedule. Poor man’s been at your beck and call ever since your early symptoms have appeared, so why not give him a reward of sorts.

You press your ass against his crotch, rolling slow circles that rouse him from his slumber.

Simon’s first instinct, however, is to stop you. A big hand flattens on your belly, fingers twitching to resist the urge to curve around your waist and grasp until he dimples the fat there.

A hum leaves him. “What are you doing?”

You nuzzle the pillow and act all innocent, even if he can’t see it in the pitch-dark room.

“Nothing,” you tell him. “Can't sleep. Feel a little restless, with the fever and all.”

“Restless,” he echoes with humour, already catching on. “Need me to wear you down?”

You turn your head until his nose bumps with your cheek. He presses a kiss there.

“Mmh,” you hum with a smile. “Maybe."

His hand rises slowly, and you’re delighted to feel the pads of his fingers reach your chest. He cups your breast through your shirt and thumbs your nipple, already pebbled and stiff. 

Hard like his cock pressing against you.

Your skin is unbearably sensitive due to your fever, and the slightest touch could easily turn into stinging pain. That’s why as soon as he skims over your nipple your body goes haywire and you jolt, grinding the swell of your ass against him. 

Simon presses forward, meeting your inadvertent movement. 

There’s a moan coming from both sides. Yours is more cracked, a wonderful cocktail of relief and soreness—though you’re liking this more than you should, probably. You’re never one to say no to a bit of pain now, are you?

Simon, on the other hand… oh, Simon. His voice is low—gravel against the road. A groan that sounds like it’s coming from a dry throat, strikingly possessive when paired with the gentleness with which he’s holding you.

“Lemme take care of you then, yeah?” He whispers, leaning closer to your ear. 

He tucks his arm under your neck, letting you nestle your cheek in the crook of his elbow. You’re sure he must be running hot too, but you’re sporting a whopping 100.4 body temperature, making his skin feel like an ice pack. 

You sigh beautifully at the slight relief he provides.

Simon takes care of you first, like he's so kindly offered, and you don’t fight against him.

You don’t fight against his hand snaking under the waistband of your sweats. Don’t fight against the pads of his fingers drawing slow eights on your clit. 

What you do instead is bury your face in his forearm, as he presses soft kisses to the exposed skin on your neck.

You get wet embarrassingly easily. He collects it with his middle finger before returning to the tight knot of your clit, circling gently—no rush whatsoever.

He checks in every once in a while, whispering soft questions to your skin as he explores it with his lips.

Are you okay?, and a kiss. You hurtin'?, and another kiss, right under your ear. He waits for you to reply each time, before finally giving in and nuzzling the nape of your neck through your hair. 

He goes on, murmuring sweet nothings when you whine and he can’t pinpoint if it’s from pleasure or your body aches.

“That's it, love,” he whispers, coaxing moans from your lips as his fingers guide you closer and closer to the edge. Steadfast on your clit, he keeps a rhythm he knows will crack through you—break the mould of stiff muscles and sore skin.

Your orgasm catches the breath in your throat. It almost stings, burning through you in waves that stem from your sex and ripple in all directions.

Until your body undulates with it, pressing back into his. Until your voice follows suit too, cracking gently as you bite into the thickness of his forearm to keep quiet.

Simon’s panting against your shoulder like he came as well. It’s impossible not to notice the girth of his cock indenting the fat of your ass, how deliciously hard he is just because he’s touched you so thoroughly.

It gets you drunk on power to know how little it takes for you to do that to him.

His lips are pursed in a kiss ardently left to the crook of your neck. You feel the wetness of it, the heat seeping through your much hotter skin. His fingers slow down, until soft circles turn into mere flicks on your clit that gently drag your consciousness back into your body, back into his arms.

“Alrigh'?” He murmurs to the skin of your neck, as he huffs from his nose to balance his breathing.

“Mhmh,” you reply absentmindedly, still foggy and dipped in a dreamy state.

Gingerly, the hand buried in your knickers travels to your waist, leaving a wet trail that slowly dries up—from the curls on your pelvis all the way to your hip. He pinches you softly.

“Can I fuck you?” He asks.

In response, you press your ass to where he’s waiting for you.

“Yes, please—yes.” You say, not bothering to veil your willingness. 

If your bones weren’t aching, you’d let him fold you like cheap paper. Knees to your ears and all.

Simon’s fingers tug down your pants and knickers at the same time, exposing the burning skin of your ass to the air. Even under the duvet and pressed against him, everything feels so unbelievably fresh—it’s utter relief that has you softening against his chest. 

Relief that ratchets up when you feel the head of his cock glide seamlessly through your slit, causing you to grind your hips backwards each time it catches your swollen clit.

His tongue lavishes the skin of your neck, distracting you from the pleasurable pain of the stretch as he comfortably slides in. You feel your muscles tighten around him, as your nails dig into his arm wrapped around your waist.

But Simon’s the one who seems most out of his element, for once.

“Jesus fucking Christ, love.” He breathes heavily to your shoulders. His voice doesn’t even sound like him.

The hand around your waist grabs a handful of your clothes, fabric bulging within the grooves of his fingers, while the one extended under your neck fists the pillow until his knuckles paint white.

“F-fuck—you’re burnin’ up.” He croaks, burying his face against the back of your head. “Bloody hell—fuckin’ melting me down ‘ere.”

He tries to move but his voice cracks in a moan before he stops completely. More muted curses leave him.

“Fuckin’ hell you feel good.” He pants, voice so breathy you can barely hear him, and you wonder if he’s talking to you at all. “S’ so fuckin’ hot.”

He stays stock still inside of you, hips flush to your ass. 

But you’re as cheeky as they come, and he should know that already.

Which is why you move, canting your hips until you can feel him slide out of you, and then back in.

“Fuck, no—sto—"

Simon grunts. Chokes on it. 

One flick of your ass has him unravel. He cums inside of you with a quick snap of his hips to meet yours, and the slap of flesh against flesh would be loud if it weren’t for how strong his groan is. 

For how much he’s filling you up, buried to the hilt until you swear you can almost feel him throbbing in your stomach.

Simon hides in the crook of your neck, holding on tight with a stiff arm curled around your belly. You can feel his heartbeat thunder against yours, as if merging together—erratic and unsteady.

It takes him a while to recover, to catch his breath. You coax him out of his bubble gently, threading your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp until you feel him deflate behind you with a sigh.

“Bit of a cunt move, that.” He mumbles, but there’s no bite in his voice.

You smile. Somehow the aches in your body soften up, and you feel like floating on a cloud.

“Well, I'd say you didn't mind much,” you say innocently.

He snorts.

A hand lands blindly on your face, and he gives it a good scramble until you’re chuckling in his palm. You easily recognize that as his way to sneakily check for your temperature, while masking it as a playful jab.

“Sorry,” you feel compelled to say, though your voice is muffled by his hand.

And then he nuzzles your shoulder, planting a fat kiss on your neck. 

“S’alrigh’,” he says softly. “Saved us from a third-degree burn, after all. Gotta thank you for tha'."

You burst into a laugh that he catches with his mouth—his fingers already curled around your jaw, turning your head his way before you can utter another word.

Your laughter seeps through your lips onto his, vibrating until his cheeks curl into a smile of his own.

Infectious, like your stupid flu.

Because the next morning, Simon wakes up with a terrible sore throat, though he doesn’t feel as annoyed as he thought he'd be.

In fact, he decides being sick can't be that bad, when you make it feel this good.

Even if now you're both cranky, feverish, and all.

[thenightwolf51]

This comment is hilarious

Yetis to the rescue

After becoming a halfa Danny didn't realize how much he needed a medical checkup until he went to see Frostbite. It turns out that being a hybrid of two species leaves you vulnerable to both types of diseases.

Frostbite was shocked when Danny commented that he didn't have any of the ghost vaccines, but in his defense how was he supposed know that it was a necessity and that ghosts could get sick? Nobody informed him!

Despite following all medical advice and undergoing the process of multiple vaccinations in the same day; months later Danny was infected by a case of Ghost flu, this kind of flu was a little different: in ghosts it just destabilized their ectoplasm, but in his half normal human body it was causing a severe pulmonary obstructive reaction, he was just lucky he didn't need to breath.

Danny was severely ill for a couple of days, and without noticing it, the Ghost flu mutated inside his body; when he finally recovered by becoming immune, the entire city was infected with a severe case of flu, a very intense flu that sent people to the hospital and was extremely difficult to detect.

At first Danny was confused when Frostbite told him that the signs the Amity Parkers were showing was a Ghost flu infection because, wasn't it supposed to be a ghost disease? Frostbite explained worriedly that sometimes virus could evolve to infect other organisms if they have the chance.

At the end Danny and Frostbite had to do an emergency quarantine in Amity before the virus mutated from affecting liminals to becoming compatible with humans, while the Amity Parkers were reluctant to accept help at first, they realized their liminal status along with the small amount of ectoplasm they hold inside their body could save them with the help of a Yeti from Far Frozen.

When Danny heard reports of a concerned Amity Parker about an infection starting in Gotham he realized it might be too late, maybe it was time to unleash the Ghost yetis medic squad.

On the other side, Red Hood had been sick for a couple of days with an extremely persistent flu, to the point where he swore to hallucinate a Yeti outside his door.

[longdirtroad]

creeping out of bed in simon's t-shirt while he's in bed ill ridden. sneaking into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, ruffling around the fridge to find that rogue bottle of honey, but the second you find and reach for it, two arms wrap around your midsection. simon all but lifts and carries you like a rag doll (you can feel his fever permeating through your shirt) as he flops both of you back on the bed. you can hear some sniffles amongst barely coherent words as he throws the blanket back over the bed, and nuzzles into your neck with a hefty sigh.

"ya can't leave-- 'm sick".

[almondcroissantsandink]

The Thomas Thorne Affair

[icyblogs]

have been sick as a dog this past week, it hurts to swallow anything, head feels like its being pounded with a hammer. all i’m thinking about is how good the 141 would take care of you if you were sick (‘:

taking you to urgent care, listening intently to what the doctor has to say. oh your throat is sore? constantly providing honey teas and fluids to help hydrate you. making you soft foods that’s easy on your throat so it doesn’t hurt as bad when you inevitably have to take food with your medicine.

thinking about the 141 who doesn’t mind getting sick, so they allow you to cuddle them- using their warm bodies as pillows. who don’t mind running baths for you, gently washing over your body. who let you lean on them for support as they do your skincare routine for you. when your head is so foggy that it was hard to even think to function. ):

maybe it’s just a bit indulgent but something something men that don’t mind going out of their way to take care of you even in their busy lifestyle. who work you through your crying fits when ‘it just hurts too bad’- who gently consoles you that ‘hey, hey, it’s alright, hm?’ while their big hand is on your cheek, thumb gently caressing the skin. yeah. soft 141 (‘:

[b4tteryaciid]

(im so sick I'm in so much pain I think I'm going to pass away in my sleep. This isn't related to the last post I made about Ghost's glasses I'm just putting the dates as the days I wright them because I'm lazy. Yes I am projecting onto Ghost because I feel like it. No you cannot stop me) Holy fuck why is this so long I did not intend for this to be so long I got Hella carried away my bad yall.

A03 :3

Warnings!! Graphic (you could argue) descriptions of throwing up. (Also mention of child abuse and sexual assault/ rape) Ghost is not having a good time here folks

Roughly ~ 6K words

Monday, January 27, 20XX, 9:00 AM

Everyone was seated around a small laptop displaying laswell's face front and center. They'd all piled into the briefing room to go over their last mission and argue over who was going to have to do the paperwork. They all denied that was why they were there, but that's what always ended up happening. Everyone was there except Ghost. Price was staring to get impatient, and calling him offered no results. They'd all been waiting about 20 minutes. Ghost wasn't usually late, he was a stickler for punctuality, even more than price sometimes, and would chew out whoever had the misfortune of being late. Usually it was Soap but sometimes Gaz would be late aswell. It didn't matter if they were even a minute late, Ghost was unhappy. 'A lot can happen in a minute Sargent, you could get shot and bleed out in a ditch,' he always had some comeback about what can happen in a minute and yadda yadda whatever. Price was becoming antsy and was loudly drumming his fingers on the desk, occasionally checking his watch before slamming his palm back down.

"He's gonna be cleaning the guns with his toothbrush after this." Price grumbled. They all knew it was an empty threat.

"A'll go look for em' Cap" Soap supplied helpfully. In all actuality he didn't want to be the one to do paperwork and didn't want to be in the meeting room any more than humanly possible. He was itching to get out of the stuffy, weird smelling room and if he had to fetch his Lieutenant to do so he was more than willing. Price shot him a look that he couldn't decipher before he sighed and dramatically ran his hands down his face.

"Yeah sure go ahead, we're gonna have to start this without him, what's one less?" He mused sarcastically, but gestured towards the door anyway. Soap gave a half-assed saulte and barreled out of the room, deeply breathing in air that didn't smell like the back of your nan's linen closet. He took his sweet time making his way over to Ghosts room. He had a larger room and one all to himself sence he was task force 141 and a Lieutenant, they all had their own rooms but from the glimpses Soap had gotten inside it, it seemed to be at least slightly more spacious than his. Once he finally made it to the door he knocked. "C'mon Ghost up an' at'em we've got shite ta do" he called through the door. When he didn't get a response he waited a beat before knocking again, "Ghost? Ar ye in there?" He paused again before he turned the doorknob finding it unlocked. Weird.

"Ahm comin' in!" He called pushing the door open and letting light spill into the dark space. The sight he was greeted with wasn't what he expected. His Lieutenant, who happened to be built like a brick shithouse, was curled up under a blanket on the floor that barely did anything to cover him, and was shaking like a scared chiwawa. "Ghost..?" No responce. "Are ye alright?" He stepped deeper into the room and flicked the light on, shutting the door with a click. The man looked up at him with squinted eyes and a pained expression. He wasn't wearing his usual mask so Soap could easily see his grease paint was smeared and had ran down his face in what looked like tear streaks. He sniffled loudly and attempted to push himself up with a violent shiver and a groan. Soap quickly rushed to his side, worried. He'd never seen him like this before. He'd never seen him in pain except for after he'd gotten injured on the field, and even then he'd just grunt and bear it. Soap slowly reached out to cup Ghosts cheek with his palm and quickly pulled away at the heat. He was burning up. He softly placed the back of his hand to Ghosts forehead without any protests, which was also unusual. Yep he was sick. No doubt about it. He was boiling and shivering at the same time, covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Ghost sniffled and leaned into Soaps cool hands, pinching his eyes shut as a tear escaped from them. His eyes were on fire and the light Soap had flicked on hadn't helped either. He sighed lowly as Soap moved his cold hands around his face, settling them onto his cheeks. Another violent shiver raked through his entire body, making his teeth clack. He ground his teeth together to try and stop it but it didn't help, his jaw still quivered and it only made his mouth hurt.

"Hush s' okay let's get ye into bed yea? A'll get somethin' for yer heid okay?" He reached out towards Ghost's arms and Ghost clutched onto him without protest. Letting himself be practically dragged across the room and into bed. Soap pulled the blanket from the floor to drape on top of him. "A'll be right back yea?" He turned to leave before his wrist was caught in a weak grip. He turned to look down at his sad sack of a Lieutenant. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy squinting up at him, pleading. He looked horrible. Soap gave him a sympathetic look and cradled the shaking man's burning face. "A'll be right back okay? Promise. I'm gonnae get ye somethin' tah make ye feel betta an' get tha' fever doon yea?" Ghost blinked up at him and slowly retracted his hand. He shifted his gaze to the ceiling and pointed at it weakly. "Wha?" Soap questioned following his gaze. He looked back down at Ghost who was squinting at him expectantly. "Uhh- tha light?" He guessed and Ghost sniffled loudly with an almost inperseptable nod. "Aye, A'll turn this lamp on instead yea?" Ghost blinked at him again, holding his eyes closed for a slight second in confirmation. He carefully turned the desk lamp beside Ghost's bed on before angling it down so it wouldn't shine in his eyes, he scurryed out of the room and shut the overhead light off as he left.

--

Ghost laid in bed, in a smoking puddle of misery as he watched Johnny leave the room in a haste. The second the door was closed he burrowed down under the blankets and allowed his body to be overcome with the shivers he'd been biting back. He'd had a horrible scratching in his throat for the agonizingly long time Soap had been in the room with him. It had realistically only been around 3 or so minutes, but when you're holding back a dam of blistering water, 3 minutes feels like years. He let the coughs he'd been holding in escape his body and tear through him. Scraping his sensitive throat and ripping their way through his lungs and esophagus. He coughed until tears were streaming down his face and he was lightheaded. He swallowed roughly and it felt like he'd swallowed a mix of hot sand and acid. His mouth felt like hot, sticky, cotton. He squeezed his eyes shut as fire licked his corneas. The tears leaked out again, only seeming to spread the fire through his brain. He curled up into himself even more and begged for it to stop. The sweltering burning slowly subsided into a dull sting. Even without the fire it was still unpleasant. It was as if people were pressing thick marbles into his eye sockets with their thumbs, trying to replace his eyes with different ones without removing his eyes beforehand, just squishing the marbles in with them, forcing space. A whole construction team jackhammered his skull to a fine paste while the worst grade school band in all of human history played the song of their people in his cranium, shaking his brain around violently and turning it to slop. His bone marrow had either turned to ice or hot lava, it was impossible to tell. He was so cold, shaking like he was buried unter layers of ice and snow but was sweating out all the liquid in his body simultaneously. His flesh felt like it was sizzling off under the blanket but without it he was plunged back into the icy cold depth again. All of his joints were stiff and held together with concrete. His stomach felt like it was canabalising itself from the inside out. It reminded him of when he'd gotten stabbed in the gut on an op a couple years ago. The knife had hit his appendix and ripped a hole in it. The attacker had some sort of serated toothed knife that definitely wasn't legal. It had popped it right open and the Doctors weren't able to salvage it, opting to remove it entirely. He still had a gnarly, ugly scar from it even years later. This felt like it all over again but spread out deep into his gut. Something was inside and desperately trying to claw it's way out like a caged animal.

Bile caressed his throat fighting to come back up and his mouth filled with spit. He desperately tried to swallow the saliva back but he could feel it seeping out from under his tounge and filling his mouth with a hot and sticky sensation. And not the good kind mind you. He dragged himself out of bed as fast as his poor body would take him. Dragging his exhausted limbs against their will as they screamed at him to stop. He was going to vomit. As much as he tried desperately to swallow it back down it only come back more aggressively. Cut off one head and it grows too more. After centuries of manhandling his body and practically pulling it across the floor he hit the cold bathroom tile with a meaty slap as shockwaves rocked through him up from his knees. The dam broke and he retched for what felt like hours. His throat bloody and raw. He could taste blood and the heat from where his food had just been moments prior. The thought made him gag and spew even more. His was breathless and shaking in agony but his body wasn't done. He was going to die wasn't he? Sitting infrount of the toilet like an idiot. If Johnny ever came back he would see him expired infrount of his own vomit filled toilet. What a sight for sore eyes that would be. He didn't have anything more to throw up so he was now dry heaving over the bowl. He stared at the disgusting amalgamation infrount of him through a blurry vision as he gasped for air. He managed to reach up and flush away the evidence with great hastle. The smell that had infected his brain slowly seeped away leaving only him by himself to cool down and regain his breath again. He slumped down and leaned his heated head against the cool porcelain.

He was racked with humiliating sobs that's shook him to the bone and made him shiver again. He was pathetic. A grown ass man crying on the floor. He was a soldier for fucks sake. He'd stitched up real injuries before by himself with no anesthetics and old fishing line and he was fine. Now some lowsy cold was gonna take him out? The Ghost? The man who had seen death and laughed? Got off scott free even though he deserved absolutely nothing? When Johnny had come in he had seen him looking like a baby on the floor. Maskless and miserable. He'd seen his face before but this was different. He hadn't even been able to speak to the man when he helped him into bed. He was humiliated. For anyone to see him that way, and it being his Sargent? His subordinate? 'Okay. Hold on.' He thought. He was arguing with nobody but his own thoughts and he couldn't care. That's was his Sargent. His Johnny. If anybody had to see him like that he was glad it would be Johnny. To see the worry and fright lace the man's face and contort it, eyes shimering with fear had broken him. He never wanted to be the reason Johnny looked like that. He didn't want to hurt Johnny. Ever. But he didn't want him there. He was a grown man and it was pathetic for him to be acting this way. He kicked himself for it. Johnny had killed men with his bare hands. Those hands made and handled deadly explosives not his frail, shaking, sobbing, pathetic Lieutenant.

His pity-party was cut short by a loud slam and an all too familiar Scottish voice. "Ahm back! Sorry ah took so long, Price 'ad ta ken where ya were- Ghost?" He cut himself off with a worried yell. He heard the man dump some things onto his bed and his rapidly approaching footsteps. "Oh... Ghost..." He whispered, approaching the sobbing, shaking man on the ground like a scared animal. "C'mon get up-" he reached down towards Ghost and hooked his arms around his waist trying to pull him up with a grunt. "- A'll draw ye a bath." Ghost tried to push himself up to sit on the toilet seat Soap had closed but it didnt work so well. He shifted slightly to look at Soap with an eyebrow raised and a questioning hum. Soap quickly slipped out of the bathroom and wrapped a fuzzy yellow blanket around Ghost, who was still shaking. This earned Soap another questioning look. He turned to bend down and plug the bath before turning the water on and standing back up. " Ma mam always had us take a bath when we weren't well." He moved over to the sink and grabbed the ratty white hand towel off the holder and ran it under the tap for a second before ringing It out and sidestepping infrount of Ghost again. "Close yer eyes." He said before turning the bathroom light on and wiping at Ghosts face and neck with the towel. "Tha blanket s'mine" he clarified. He rubbed at Ghosts hairline, running his fingers through his ratty matted blonde hair softly. He set the towel on the counter and Ghost peeled his eyes open to watch him test the water with his hand before shutting it off. "Clothes ooff" he said nonchalantly.

Huh?

Soap must've seen his confusion because he flushed and turned away, rubbing at his nape awarkwardly. "Ah- s' jus tha' ya smell like blood and are still wearin' yer clothes from last mission." He clarified, waving dismissively. "Take me out ta dinner first" Ghost's voice was horribly raspy. He sounded like he chainsmoked at least a pack of fags a day. Ghost paused as he brought his hands up to his face and inhaled sharply. Soap looked up just intime to meet Ghosts eyes before he let out the worst ground shakingly loud sneeze he'd ever heard. "Bless ye'-" Soap started before being cut off by Ghost's coughing. Soap quickly moved over to rub his back and whisper things to him he couldn't hear. He was lazily swatted at by Ghost but it didn't do much. After the coughing was over he dropped his head onto Soaps shoulder for a moment. They both stayed like that for a few minutes while Ghost breathed slow and deep to regain his breath. Soap had brought his arms up to wrap around him and cradle him close. "S' okay LT, yer okay" he soothed rubbing circles into his back. After Ghost had gotten enough strength he stood up on shaky legs like a newborn deer and slowly stripped. With his light hum of approval Soap helped get his shirt and pants off, leaving him only in his boxers. "Ye can leave those on if ye like" Soap rubbed at his neck again awkwardly. Must have been a nervous habit he had that Ghost never noticed before now. Ghost was too out of it to really care so he slowly pulled them off anyways and kicked out of them, nearly falling over in the process. Johnny had caught him around the waist and they stood again for a moment. Ghost's vision was swimming and he was sure he was going to pass out. He sighed and slowly moved towards to tub with Johnny's help. He felt like an invalid, incapable if doing anything for himself and he would probably regret this when he was in his right mind again. But for now he liked being cared for so intimately. He and Johnny didn't have anything going on, atleast psychically. They flirted over comms daily and shared glanes that lingered too long for just friends, but now Ghost was buck ass naked in his bathroom with his Sargent helping him into a bath.

"A'right, intah tha drink ya go" his smile was audible as he helped lower Ghost into the warm bath water. The water felt like liquid gold on his distressed skin. For a moment he forgot all about his state and basked in the warmth. His eyes had closed with a sigh as he had sunk down lower into the water. He heard the tap come on again as Johnny did something nearby. Footsteps again before a voice "Puttin' this on yer heid, doon't panic" his voice was soft as he placed a cool wet towel over his eyes and forehead. It felt like heaven compaired to the agony of earlier. Johnny lightly pressed the cool towel into his eyes and forehead before running his hands through Ghosts hair. "A'll be right back, ave got somethin' for yer fever" he spoke out into the open air before his footsteps receded.

--

The bath water felt amazing, but Ghost couldn't help the sence of dread that creeped up on him. How pathetic was he? His Sargent caring for him like he was an invalid. Like he was incapable of caring for himself. He'd been shot and had worse injuries than this. He'd been tortured for God knows how long and buried alive for Christ's sake! His body mutilated and abused and a simple cold was rocking his shit? He didn't climb out of his own fucking grave to be killed by some stupid illness. Simon "Ghost" Riley. Cause of death : Common Cold. Pathetic. To have his Sargent come check on him and see that sorry sight? He rather he did die. To be so vulnerable? He was shaking on the ground like a scared animal. His full face completely visible while he cried and whined on the ground in pain. Worthless. If his father had caught him like that he would've beaten the cold right out of him. Now he was sitting completely naked in the bath his Sargent had drawn for him. Was he fucking useless? Needing his subordinate to care for him? Had he no shame? He felt exposed and vulnerable. Johnny could slit his throat and end him right there. Could waterboard him with the rag already on his face. Slam his head against the wall. Suffocate him. Drown him. Touch him. Violate him. Use him like Roba did. He couldn't see, didn't know what was going on. Anything could happen to him and he would be none the wiser. Johnny wouldn't do that though. He trusted Johnny with his life. To watch his six, to have his back. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists. Disgusted that he could even think Johnny capable of hurting him. He wouldnt. Not like that.

He felt a touch on his shoulder and lashed out. Swivling in the bath and sloshing the water. He ripped the rag off his face and reached out, snatching the arm of his attacker and throwing them off balance, making them list forwards with a yelp. Johnny. It was just Johnny. His shocked bright blue eyes shedding shockwaves of shame through his body. He reached out quickly to steady the man. He looked horrified. "Ahm so sorry Si!" He quickly backed away from the man in the tub, dropping whatever he was holding and holding his arms up in surrender. "Aits jus' me" he soothed, trying to look as harmless as possible. "Sorry" Ghost rasped. "Ah should've warned ye'" Soap mumbled before slowly picking up what he dropped, making sure Ghost could see what he was doing. Ghost felt like Soap was treating him like a wild animal, no sudden movements or sounds, lest he scare him off. Ghost huffed and crossed his arms as he watched the Scott retrieve what he dropped.

Soap shuffled closer and sat on the floor next to the tub before lining up his spoils on the closed toilet seat. A bottle of water, a juice box (what was he? Five?), a pack of saltiene crackers, a bottle of pills, and another box of pills. "Quite the haul" Ghost croaked before devolving into a coughing fit. He coughed his throat raw and it stung to breathe. Tears sprung to his eyes as he desperately tried to stop. After an agonizingly long minute he stopped. He glanced over at Soap as he cracked the seal on the water and handed it to him. "Drink" he instructed as he shoved the water into Ghosts shaking hands. He chugged over half the bottle in one go before handing it back to Soap. "Okay-" Soap sighed, hitting his knees as he stood up and ambled over to the sink "- Ye smell and it'll make ye feel betta' tah be clean." He carefully grabbed Ghosts toothbrush out of the cup it was in and placed it on the counter, taking the cup with him. "This s' a smidge awkward, but, will ye let me wash ye?" A deep flush spread over Soaps face as he looked away, rubbing his nape nervously. "Ye can say no! S' fine!" He reassured, speaking too quickly and loudly. Ghost winced at the sound and thought for a moment. He trusted Johnny didn't he? He would never intentionally harm him would he? He just wanted to help. He opened his eyes and gave a slight slow nod. Johnny gave him a caring smile and scooted towards the edge of the bath, hitting his knees against it as he settled. Before pausing and making eye contact with Ghost. "Ye get uncomfortable an ye tell me okay?" His voice was stern but laced with concern. He nodded slightly and watched Soaps eyes immediately soften.

Soap reached into the water with the cup and pulled back before pausing and looking at Ghost expectantly. When he just stared back Soap mumbled quietly "scoot up would'ye?" Ghost shuffled forward and raised an eyebrow at him. Soap shuffled to the side and poured the warm water down Ghosts back. It felt magical. His skin felt hot and clammy but the warm water had stopped his shivers and filled him with a nice soothing warmth. He sighed lightly and leaned back into the water before it stopped. He was instantly displeased before he heard Johnny move again and more water was running down his back. Running down his spinal colum and warming his blood. Johnny poured more water down his back before moving to his shoulders and than to the base of his hairline. His eyes were closed as he leaned back into the sensation. The warmth washing over him and wisking the cold away. The chill would quickly return before it was smothered by the water again. It was near silent in the bathroom, only the sloshing water and Ghosts sighs. It was almost too quiet. He liked the quiet, it made his head sizzle instead of sparking like a match but it allowed his thoughts to creep up on him. Every move Johnny made and every touch made him flinch slightly. "Can you..." He trailed off, voice a whisper as not to agitate his already enflamed larynx. "Hm?" Johnny gave a questioning hum as he began to pour the water over his scalp. "Can ye.. talk to me" he mumbled as Johnny reached back down into the water with the cup. "Sure Si, what da ye wan tah talk aboot?" His voice was low and slightly deeper. It was obvious he was trying to be quiet for Simon's sake. It made his heart flutter and his chest feel warm just thinking about it. "Anything" he sighed. Johnny pulled away and Ghost shifted, coughing violently into his elbow, desperately clutching it with his other hand. Johnny softly rubbed circles into his back until he relaxed again. Johnny began to talk. About what? Simon couldn't tell you, but the noise was soothing. Johnny's voice was soothing. His stupid Scottish accent making him slightly difficult to understand with his voice so low, but it was nice. He didn't need to pay attention and Johnny didn't expect him too.

Soap pulled his hands away and he heard a bottle being picked up. He heard him squirt something into his hands before those same hands massaged something into his scalp. His shampoo, he figured. He almost moaned at the feeling. It felt amazing, now he knew why Johnny had insisted he take a bath. As quickly as it was there it was gone. He cursed himself internaly for having such a short haircut. What he would give to have his Sargent card his hands through his hair, to lazily play with it while they slept- okay. Take a breath. Johnny's just helping him out. Not like they're gonna sleep together and cuddle. Live a happily ever after. What he would give for that though. To get to wake up next to Johnny every single day. Okay. Pause. He knew he felt... something for his Sargent but he didn't feel that about him, right? He shook the thoughts away as Johnny finished rinsing the last of the soap put of Simon's hair. "Where's tha rag ye had?" Soap questioned, he assumed it was rhetorical because he felt the Scott pull something out of the water, the rag, and ring it out. "Simon?" He questioned. Ghost cracked his eyes open to squint at the man, his arms were wet, so far as to up to his forearm on the right. He gave a questioning hum, filled by a wince as he agitated his throat when fire shot through his skull. "Can ah?" He asked, holding up the wet rag. Simon thought for a minute assuming Soap was asking if he could scrub him or something. He was already naked in his bathtub with his Sargent who had just washed his hair. Fuck it. He was already too far gone to give a fuck. If Johnny said it would make him feel better he would try anything. His whole body was still pulsing. He could feel and hear his blood being pumped through his veins. He felt like he was going to have a heart attack, but he was fine so he ignored it. He could barely think around the screaming pain in his mind. Who cares anymore? "Yeah" he nodded before closing his eyes again. He caught a glimpse of Soap starting to nod his head before he closed his eyes and tried not to think. Johnny washed up his legs and torso, specifically avoiding his crotch, Simon noticed, all while talking about... something. He menouverd his arms to wash his chest and back. His arms and under his pits. "S' ealed nicely" Soap ran his fingers across Ghosts side absentmindedly, making him shiver at the touch. He'd gotten slashed on their last op and had his torso wrapped for a couple days but it wasn't deep so it was healing rather quickly. "Ah- sorry" he mumbled, returning to washing Ghosts back with the cloth.

After a couple minutes he paused and Simon cracked his eye open, just enough to see, barely. "Uh- ahm done if ya wannae-" he cleared his throat awkwardly and gestured at his legs, looking away. He looked down and realized what he meant. Ah yeah. It would be weird for his Sargent to wash his dick and balls. He nodded and reached for the cloth, missing entirely. He felt his face flush in embarrassment. His depth perception was not ideal, he knew that much, but he didn't think it was this bad. Johnny placed the cloth in his hand and pushed the body wash he had used towards the middle of the ridge of the tub. He stood with a sigh and turned around to do something. Fumbling with the pills on the countertop. Ghost got to work lazily scrubbing himself with the cloth. He didn't even bother putting soap on it, just running it over his exposed skin. It didn't feel nearly as nice as when Johnny had done it. When he finished he shifted his legs to sit criss cross. Or as best as he could. He was entirely too large and tall for the tub, so he just folded his legs up the best he could. "Oright, I ave some pills for ya to taek ya waen em in tha bath or oot?" Ghost shot him a questioning look, too drained to decipher his sargents accent or question. Johnny sighed and repeated "I ave pills for ye. Ya wan ta taek em in tha tub or get oot am taek em?" Ghost nodded. "Aye which one? I asked ye two questions." He asked exasperatedly. Without answering Ghost tried to stand, shifting in the bath and placing his hands on the edge. "Aye! Nae ya need ta wait ave got somethin' ta do!" Soap yelped at he rushed to push his huge Lieutenant back into the bath. Ghost huffed and plopped back down with a splash and a thunk that sent his head swimming and made his stomach churn with dizziness. Johnny worked quickly, pulling the stopper in the tub and snagging a towel off the counter he had apparently grabbed earlier and laying in on the floor. "Oright now we're ready" he said. Ghost took this as his que to try and stand again. Blood quickly rushed to his brain and shot him with dizziness as his stomach acid yearned to meet his bathroom floor. He swayed and Johnny instinctively reached out to steady him. Ghost reached to grab his arms, holding them in place as he got his bearings. "Ye need 'elp?" Soap asked, still holding his Lieutenants forearms. Ghost nodded and looked down, to step over the lip of the tub and to hide his embarrassment. It look seemingly way too long but he managed to stumble his way over it. Soap handed him another towel and instructed him to sit on the toilet seat to wait for his pills. Ghost wrapped the towel around his waist and tucked it into itself to hold it up. The yellow blanket from earlier was nowhere to be seen. Soap grabbed some pills and the juice box from earlier and handed them to him. "Jus swallow those an drink tha, yer gonnae need it." He gestured to his handful of pills and the juice. Once the pills were in his mouth it took some hyping up to swallow them. The second he did his throat spasmed and he gagged, covering his mouth with his hands. "Aye keep those pills doon." He rubbed his shoulder to make sure he wouldn't vomit up the medication and turned to line the boxes up against the wall, out of the way. "Where'd you get em?" Ghost rasped. "Huh? Oh Aye, tha pills. Stole em from medical. Girl dinnae even care tha much wen ah ran oof with em." He chuckled, looking down at Ghost who nodded slowly.

"Oh Aye ya need clothes." He left the room before quickly returning with a fresh pair of boxers, sweats, a tee and a hoodie with his name and rank on the back and over the left breast. Ghost slowly stood up, steadying himself on the counter. "Ya think you'll be good ere fer a minute?" Johnny questioned looking back at him as he paused his walk out the door again. Ghost nodded and johnny hummed before leaving him to get dressed.

It took way longer than expected but he managed to get dressed through the shaking. The shivers had returned full force and intended to take him down best they could. The hoodie helped some but he was still freezing. What he would give to be in his nice warm bed.

----

Soap left his Lieutenant to dress himself. He'd already gotten an eye full of the man's dick already and was sure Ghost was capable enough to dress himself without help. Plus, he was just in the other room, the door still wide open. He had snagged more waters on his mission and a blanket or two aswell. He picked the bottles off the bed and moved them to the nightstand next to it before moving onto the bed itself. He fluffed out the blankets before laying them across the bed. He made sure the curtains were drawn all the way closed and checked his phone to make sure he hadn't missed anything. He'd called Price when he left, informing him of Ghosts condition and asked for permission to skip the meeting to tend to him. He'd agreed but insisted that he drag Ghosts sorry ass to medical. They both knew that wouldn't happen, but one can hope. He had a text from Gaz asking for updates and some well wishes. Soap sent thanks and that Ghost was fine for the most part. Conviently leaving out the bathing part. He turned around after he heard ghost stop moving. He was leaned back against the counter, holding the juice to his forehead with his eyes closed. He was shivering again and was visibly tense. Johnny sighed and made his way to Ghost in the bathroom. "Cmon Simon, let's get ye tah bed." He nodded and pulled the juice away from his head, pushing off the counter with a stumble. Soap quickly brought his hands over to catch him. He tugged on Ghosts arms and guided him towards the bed. "Oright there ya go." He encouraged, lightly pushing Ghost down onto the bed and pulling the covers aside so he could slip under. "Ah'll be right back, ye drink tha oright?" Ghost blinked slowly and opened the juice. Soap turned with a sigh and headed towards the bathroom.

God he looked miserable didn't he? Johnny had never seen his Lieutenant look that bad before. He'd seen the man fall off a two story building and get up and look annoyed about it. He'd watched the man get shot and proceed to run around and fight with an open wound. Maybe he was hiding his pain then, which was likely, but he didn't hide it this time, or couldn't. To come back and see him on the floor like that, puking his guts out. His face streaked with tears and his eyes red and raw ripped his heart out. He immediately knew he had to do something. Had to make him feel better. Would make him feel better even if it got him killed. He felt immediately overprotective of him. He was furious that he was sick. Who had the gaul to get his Lieutenant sick? His best friend? He mightve been a little too obsessive over him but it didn't matter. He cared for him. Fuck. You could even argue that he loved him. He'd desperately tried to think of a way to help him. He remembered what his mother would do when he was sick. She would draw him a nice bath and would put some fancy salts in it that smelt like lavender. She would wash his hair and talk to him in a soothing voice. He fondly remebers her kissing her fingers and placing them on his forehead and saying that the kiss would make it better. It made his heart ache for her again. To have her care for him like that. But he knew it wasn't possible, so he did everything he could to make Simon feel as loved as his mother made him feel. It hadnt truly registered in his mind much until now. Hitting him like a pickup truck filled with bricks and C4. Exploding in his face and making his head spin. He'd watched his Lieutenant undress. Helped him into the bath. Washed him for Christ's sake. He had tried not to think about how muscular he was, how big he was and how it would feel to be pinned by that huge body. To feel his hands around his throat and his huge cock- He was doing it again. He mentally kicked himself for those thoughts. Simon needed him. Needed to be cared for and didn't deserve to be looked at like that while he was at the lowest Johnny had ever seen him. His nakedness wasn't meant for him. So he wouldn't take it as such.

He finished soaking another clean washcloth he found under the sink in cool water before ringing It out. He swivled and headed back to Simon, shutting the bathroom light off as he went. "Hey." He whispered to announce his presence before placing the cool rag on his head. He pressed it down softly into his eyes and cheeks. Simon let out a pleased sigh. Johnny turned to grab his phone from the nightstand. He'd been with Ghost for about 2 or so hours. He could go do other stuff and finish up any paperwork left from the meeting as Simon slept. "Oright Si, ahm gonnae leave ya ere to rest an ahm gonnae finish my duties-" he was cut short by a whine and a rough hand on his wrist. He turned to see that Simon had pushed the cloth up sightly to peer out under it. He was shooting him a pleading look "stay?" He rasped, barely audible. "Uhm-" he paused mulling it over. "Oright, if ye wan me ta" he responded with a sigh. He smiled when Simon pulled his hand back under the covers and shifted over in the bed, spreading his arms and lifting the blanket slightly in invitation. Johnny shook his head as he slipped his boots and rough work jeans off into a heap on the floor. He slid under the blankets next to Simon with a sigh. Simon wrapped his arms around him and he did the same. Sure he was cuddling with his Lieutenant. So what?

-----

"Johnny?" came Simons raspy voice laced with phlem. "Simon." He answered. Simon sniffled dramatically and winced before he continued. "Why?"

"Why what Si?"

"Why'd you help me? An agree to this?" His voice was low and labored but Johnny didn't mind much even as he sniffled into his hair.

"Because ah care aboot ye. So much Si." He whispered into Simon's shoulder, burrowing into his chest tighter. He wanted to say a different three words but he was sure the message came across regardless.

"Me too Johnny. Me too." Simon rubbed circles into his back before giving him a light ghost of a kiss to his scalp. He might get sick aswell after this but it didn't matter. All that mattered at that moment was them. Even though one of them was so sick he couldn't breath without it coming out as wheezes. The only thing that mattered was that Simon felt the same.

Johnny felt like his heart had exploded. He was sure his belly was swarming with little fire bugs. His brain felt fuzzy in the best way possible. He wasn't even tired, it being so early, but cuddling up against Simon made him so sleepy. The room was silent except for Simons breating and occasional throat clear. Their breaths and hearts slowed to match as they started to lose their grasps on the living world. They slowly slipped into sleep still clutching eachother like they would be torn apart. They would never mention this to anyone else, Johnny was sure of it, this was their special moment. So what if this was the best sleep they'd both had in years? So what if Johnny woke up with the sniffles and a headache. Worth it. So, so, worth it.

[awkward-fink]

In times of sickness - Simon "Ghost" Riley

You stare at your mobile phone and the message that your boyfriend had send you not too long ago. ‘Ordered groceries online. Be on standby. Coming home soon.’ Why had he ordered groceries online if you could have gone shopping easily in the supermarket down the street? Furrowing your brows you open the shared website login for the online order of groceries, and you could see the list was quite extensive on first glance! Spinach, Gnocchi, garlic, mustard and so much more.

And then you saw it, chicken thighs, root vegetables for soup base and little noodles in star shapes to go into the soup. And bone-marrow and rusk. Ah. Your boyfriend had ordered so that neither of you two would have to go shopping this weekend. Or a few days following. And your silent man was obviously sick. He never bought soup base and chicken thighs if he wasn’t sick, soup in general was not one of Simon’s favorite foods. ‘Sick People food only, Luvie’ he had once told you in no-nonsense tones.

And now he was sick. And that man, that stoic man, never even told you he was feeling unwell, he would hide it until he couldn’t anymore. You smile to yourself, readying the kitchen for the coming groceries and the task of cooking the best chicken soup you could produce! All for that silently suffering man.

Maybe you should preheat the barrel sauna he built you last summer as well, put some herbal liquid into the water to steam with, could help with a running nose.

Hours later, groceries are put away and the soup is simmering on the stove, the front door opens and your boyfriend trudges into your shared house with heavy steps and slightly drooping shoulders. Those were the only signs that he wasn’t feeling well, and the soft coughs from behind his medicinal mask as he bent down to unlace his boots. “Luvie, ‘m back.” His deep, grumbly voice calls out and you stand ready at the kitchen door, a glass with a ginger-carrot-shot in hand, and a loving and caring smile on your face.

“Hey there, Si. I see you are not feeling well, I made you some soup and a few fruit shots for your immune system. And the barrel sauna is heated for us both. How does that sound?”

“Sounds heavenly. How ever did you know?” “I have my ways.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Simon “Ghost” Riley does not do illness and being sick

There is no time for this, never and nowhere and being sick puts a damper on this man’s plans

He will hide being sick, because if he doesn’t acknowledge it, it doesn’t really happen, right?

Wants it hot and steamy to get every little bacterium out of his body again, so he built a barrel sauna for you both

Will ONLY eat soup if he is ill

Heard once that spicy food is the way to go when sick, so he has a secret stash of Buldak Ramen on base and even hidden in the most uppermost cupboard at home. If the nose aint running after one bite, it’s the wrong kind of helpful spicy

Doesn’t want to get you sick as well, but cant sleep without you on top of him, your weight being a security blanket for his weary mind and body

He will fall asleep alone, with you beside him and will wake up with you nestled on top, his face buried in your hair and his arms around your waist holding you tight

[simplyghosting]

Did not think laryngitis would be this bad I sound like I’ve been chain smoking a 10 pack through a kazoo

[fortjester]

slowly working on rock rolled back part II. 7k words n counting.

[chiareytoons]

Sick Bloo from the FHFIF Episode, "Bloooo".

[2-faded-memory-2]

i love the confusion of the machine and i love the pain of the flesh and i love the aspiration of the divine and i love the absense you get when you try to push it together

[frightfowl]

felt like I hadn't drawn Ghost fully peeved or unhinged lately, and that is truly doing him a disservice u u

he's always open for asks over on his blog btw!

[positivelyghastly]

Mist can be a little cruel. As a treat

[faofinn]

4. Hiding an Illness

It was the first week of winter term, which meant exams were looming and Finn wasn't looking forward to it in the slightest. The week he'd had off had been spent with his head in his textbooks, drowning in mock A-level exams, and wishing he was literally anywhere else. Jess had helped, where she could, but law and medicine didn't really mix, and they were often left to study in silence. 

He was sure that the headache that had refused to budge was just tiredness, but the worry about his lack of sleep bringing about another seizure only made it hurt more. The cough, too, was just because he'd not had enough to drink that morning, every morning, that was all. He wasn't getting ill. He didn't have time for it. 

Jess noticed it, of course she did, but Finn was stubborn and there was only so much she could actually do. They sat together at lunch, in the rare times they had a spare period off together, her fingers running through his hair. It gave him a reprieve for a few minutes, some relaxation between what felt like the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

It was just normal for Fred and Sheila to worry about Finn, and the occasional cough and sniffle were just that - occasional. Finn was old enough to tell them when he wasn't well, he knew his limits, as much as he tried to push them. 

There was nothing they could do other than worry and keep an eye on Finn from a distance, and hope he’d see sense in the end. Jess kept an eye on him, and that made them feel a bit better about things. She was sensible, she’d make sure he didn’t do anything too stupid. They just hoped he could rest over the break, though they knew it would be difficult. With his mocks looming, he spent more and more time holed up in his room studying. 

The end of term grew closer, and Sheila sent Finn off to school for his last day, dropping him at the gates despite his protests. She fussed over him, definitely not well but too stubborn to admit it, and told him to call her whenever if he needed to come home. 

They’d made it through most of the day, but Finn was looking worse and worse by the time they got to final assembly. As head boy and head girl, both him and Jess were required to sit at the front, and Jess nudged her boyfriend. “Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked quietly, aware of the deputy head’s gaze on them. 

He dragged his fingers across his collarbone. "I'll be better once this assembly is over. My throat is killing me."

“You should go home.” 

"I might after this assembly." He gave a one armed shrug. "The head wanted a meeting with me."

“It’s the last day, not like you’ll miss anything.” She whispered. 

He took a beat to reply. "I need to finish the assembly."

“Are you going to be able to do the speech?” She asked, glancing at the head. 

"Why wouldn't I?"

“You just said you had a sore throat.”

"Everyone gets colds over the winter."

“I know.” She said, but couldn’t say anymore after a stern glare from the head, glancing down at her lap. She reached across to squeeze Finn’s hand, though.

He laced his fingers with hers, ignoring the shake to his own. 

She frowned at his shaky hand, but didn’t say anything else. She couldn’t, she was going to get told off as it was for talking. She kept an eye on Finn as the teachers droned on, trying desperately to look interested, given the whole school could see them.  

The assembly seemed to both take forever and no time at all, and Finn wasn't sure it wasn't due to absences. He felt alright enough to at least try, holding onto the fact he should be able to feel an aura if he was going to have one. The head turned to the pair of them, inviting them up to speak to the rest of the students as they had done in all the main assemblies prior. Blood raced in his ears as he stood, and he swore to himself for not keeping his legs moving as he'd been sat. 

Jess stuck close to him, aware of the way he wobbled slightly as he stood. She’d agreed to speak first, as she always did, to give Finn a chance to catch up. She finished her bit, grinning at the rest of the school, and then nudged Finn to start his bit.

He took longer than he'd normally would to start, his attention seemingly drawn elsewhere. The silence was deafening as he came back to it, a blush spreading across his already red cheeks. He quickly caught up and carried on, his enthusiasm making everyone forget about it. He was vaguely aware he'd had a few more, the slightly uncomfortable stares from the audience a red flag. As he always did, he stretched a hand out towards Jess, searching for comfort and guidance. He linked their little fingers together, made a small joke to ease the tension, and tried again. 

The absences weren’t unheard of for Finn, especially when he wasn’t feeling well or was tired, and Jess knew full well that he was both. The school were used to it too, it often happening during speeches or in class. Normally Finn could recover it, but Jess started to get concerned as it went on and they were more apparent. One or two was one thing, but the amount he’d just had in quick succession was a big warning sign. As he took her hand, their pinkies linked, she knew he wasn’t coping well. She glanced over at him as he tried again, but it wasn’t long before he was hit with another absence, and then a myo that tugged at his shoulder, and she knew a grand mal wasn’t far behind. She cleared her throat. 

“Sorry, we’re gonna have to go.” She said, resting her other hand on Finn’s arm. “Come on.”  

"Have a good Christmas break, everyone, make sure to rest and take time for yourselves too." Finn gave the kids in front of him a warm smile, letting Jessica move him away. 

“Yeah, Merry Christmas everyone.” Jess murmured, and gently steered him away. 

Finn's face fell as they left the assembly, his facade shattering, his stomach flipping as he pulled her down to the floor. "Need to sit."

“Yeah, okay.” She said, pulling her jumper off over her head. “Here, you can lay down.”

He knew the drill all too well, an unfortunately well practised routine for barely a minute's warning. His throat was dry and scratchy, his head pounded, and each cough only made it worse. He fought unco-ordinatedly against Jess' hands trying to help, grumbling in frustration.

“I know, I know.” She said to him, trying to help despite him fighting back. He was stronger and bigger than her, but she knew he’d settle eventually. This was something they went through often, Jess regularly getting in trouble for a messed up uniform. Once Finn was laid down she could run her fingers through his hair, reassuring him the best she could before he went. 

One of the support teachers finally appeared as Finn started seizing, their lack of experience showing in their panic. It was one of the many, many reasons Finn hated his seizures, despite his repeated attempts for education and familiarisation with members of the public and even the apparently trained teaching staff. 

Totally unflappable, Jess didn’t care about the teacher’s panic. She sat quietly with Finn, a timer running on her phone, and glanced up as they arrived. 

“Can you call his mum? He needs to go home.”

They pulled a face at her. "He needs an ambulance, not his mum."

“No, he has a care plan. He doesn’t need an ambulance right now.”

"This sort of thing needs an ambulance."

“He’s an epileptic, he has a care plan. He doesn’t need an ambulance yet.”

"But he needs his mum?"

“Yeah, because he’s having a seizure and when he comes out of it he’ll need to go home.”

"Not hospital?"

“Not necessarily.” She grumbled. 

Finn's seizure had begun to stop, and he let out a groan. He still didn't know where he was or what was going on, but let Jess push him onto his side.

She took to ignoring the teacher, glad Finn’s seizure had stopped before he’d needed midaz, well within the bounds of ‘normal’ for him. She helped him onto his side, squeezing his shoulder gently. “Hi, welcome back.” She said softly. “You had a seizure, you’re okay.”

Something in his blazer pocket was digging into his side, breaking through the haze. Blood coated his tongue, too, and he hated it, pulling away with a whine. 

She stroked through his hair. “It’s okay.”

He spat as much as he could, trying to move away from it. It barely worked, and Jess' fingers in his hair quickly pulled his attention. He turned to face in her direction, squinting an eye open. 

“I know it’s not nice.” She soothed. “But you’re okay.”

Finn had enough cognition to recognise he was at school, that the floor was uncomfortable under his side. He stretched out slightly, which did nothing to help, and so, with a grumble, forced his arms under him. He almost made it upright before he flopped (against his will) into Jess, resting his head in her lap.

She rubbed his arm, trying to help him to get comfortable. She finally looked over at the member of staff that had been with them. “Did you call his mum? Or do I need to?”

"I'll go call her."

“Thanks.”

It was a difficult phone call, the TA very much out of his depth and not able to answer Sheila's questions. Of course Finn had ended up seizing, she knew something had been wrong, and she hated herself for not pushing him harder to stay at home. She could tell the assistant wasn't the most helpful, so made sure to get him to promise to tell Jess she was on her way, emphasising that the sixth-former was in charge. 

Jess was relieved Sheila was on her way, the TA having finally seen sense. Finn was taking a while to come around, as he often did, but he was safe and she could keep an eye on him. 

Finn stretched out again, squinting up at Jess. "My arm's itchy."

“Itchy? You’re laying on the carpet.” Jess pointed out. 

"It's itchy."

“It’s a shitty carpet.”

"Fix it?"

“Do you want to try and sit up?”

He thought about it. "Yeah, okay."

“Then you’ll be away from the itch.” Jess reasoned, offering him her hands. 

It took a moment for both arms to comply, Finn giving a frustrated huff as they didn't immediately work. He pulled himself upright, leaning heavily against the wall to stop everything spinning. It was all still not quite right, the post-seizure haze still in full force. 

“Better?”

"No." He sighed heavily. 

Jess moved closer, kissing his cheek. “How about now?”

He grinned. "Yeah."

“Good.” She said. “Was only a little one, and your mum is coming to get you.”

"Oh. I'm going home?"

“Yeah, you’re going home.”

"With you?"

“With your mum.”

"And you?" He tried with a grin. 

“Don’t know if they’ll let me.”

"Please?"

“We’ll talk to your mum.”