#i have jelly as arms now; i can't believe i still hold that much responsibility over one person's feeling

[askkaimei]

[brites]

AU prompt Anon here! Just wanted to make sure because I'm always up for unconventional stuff to mix things up! Feel free to reject because they're super weird and not always aligned with your genres. Character A can fly! They love taking people on joyrides, doing flips and loop-de-loops! Character B gets airsick, but gosh darn it if they can't say no to that face. Nausea ensues.

AN: this seems like the perfect opportunity to flex my x-men au muscles

Despite how often he complained, Tsukishima really wouldn’t trade being a mutant for anything else.

Sure, it could be troublesome at times. Depending on the teacher, Institute classes could be dull beyond belief. He was pretty sure the Danger Room violated about twenty established federally mandated safety codes. Not to mention, he had to share close quarters with people like Hinata, and was expected to work with him – which was about as easy as chasing a hamster around a freeway.

Still, Tsukishima knew he was lucky to have the Institute. Without it, he would still be the same scared little boy who couldn’t understand why everyone’s thoughts were so loud all the time. The Professor had helped him to control his powers, to the point that Tsukishima really enjoyed being a mutant, for all it entailed.

Yamaguchi Tadashi was someone else who took delight in his own mutation. Enthusiastically. At every possible chance he got.

“Tsukki,” called the boy from outside the window of their shared room. “Come fly with me!”

Tsukishima sighed, setting his book down on his desk with a thud. His skin prickled with a faint sense of discomfort, but he reminded himself that he wasn’t in the air yet. “Should you really be doing that, Yamaguchi?”

“Yeah, Ukai-sensei said it was okay! Come out with me!”

This was Yamaguchi’s favorite thing to do. While the power of flight was a pretty cool one, Tsukishima knew that if he were the one with it, instead of his best friend, he wouldn’t be flipping through the air constantly. If he were allowed to, he didn’t doubt that Yamaguchi would spend more time in the air than on the ground.

“I have a lot of homework to do,” he said over his shoulder, hoping – but not really believing – that would be the end of it.

“Tsukki! Please?”

Tsukishima grit his teeth, allowing his eyes to slip shut.

“Please?”

He turned to look at Yamaguchi.

“Please?”

Dammit, he was using the puppy dog eyes. Tsukishima was a goner before he even knew what hit him.

“Fine,” he conceded, slamming his book shut. He strode over to the window, tugging the blinds up all the way, and peered outside. “Do I need a jacket?”

Yamaguchi’s arms were already extended, grasping for him eagerly. “Nah, it’s warm out today!”

Sighing, Tsukishima gave up and relinquished himself to his friend’s hold. With little fanfare, Yamaguchi wrapped his arms around Tsukishima’s torsa and lifted him right out the window. Tsukishima fought against his instinct to shudder as he felt Yamaguchi’s muscles strain against him. Flying with other people was something it had taken his best friend a while to learn -- namely because he was unable to lift other people up. It had taken countless hours lifting weights in the Institute gym for him to build up the upper body strength necessary to carry someone as heavy as Tsukishima.

Yamaguchi was kind of ripped. It showed. Tsukishima was also kind of in love with his best friend. It also probably showed.

(He certainly wouldn’t fly out a window with anyone else.)

Yamaguchi let out a whoop as they took off, and Tsukishima squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to block out the scenery zipping past him. He was all too aware of the rushing feeling that accompanied soaring through the air as fast as any bird could fly. His stomach felt ready to fly up his throat; his lips, pressed into a tight line, threatened to drain themselves of all blood.

When Yamaguchi did a somersault in midair, Tsukishima’s stomach flipped with it. His friend was laughing all the way, but there was nothing funny about the way Tsukishima was sure he was about to hurl. Even as Yamaguchi’s ever-so-muscley arms tightened around him, it was a cold comfort.

The ride didn’t last long; Yamaguchi got tired quickly when holding others up. By the time Tsukishima was lowered back down onto the Institute front lawn, his legs had turned to jelly.

He fell to his knees as soon as his feet hit the ground. Yamaguchi let out a short laugh. “Was that too much? Sorry.”

Tsukishima intended to reply, to tell him that it was fine -- but when he opened his mouth, all that bubbled out was a burp.

“Umm.” Yamaguchi had gone still, eyes wide and baffled. “Tsukki? Are you... okay?”

Tsukishima’s stomach was still feeling those somersaults, and he was suddenly aware that opening his mouth stood a good chance of leading to disaster. Instead he struggled to his feet, ignoring how unsteady he felt, and held up a hand to ward Yamaguchi from coming any closer.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to piece together what was going on. He could hear Yamaguchi’s realization behind him, and the short gasp of breath that accompanied it. Tsukishima had gotten airsick like this before, but had never brought it up to Yamaguchi; he endured the rides, knowing how queasy he got, and was careful to hide his discomfort afterwards. This time, he couldn’t hide it.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Yamaguchi demanded, voice taking on a frantic pitch. “Ever? You had so many opportunities to say something!”

Tsukishima, still hunched over, aimed a burp towards the ground. “’M fine.”

“No, you’re not! You’re not fine!” It was rare that Yamaguchi actually got angry, but now he was halfway to livid. Tsukishima found himself a little frightened, past the waves of overwhelming nausea.

It wasn’t only his stomach setting him off. In his distracted state, Tsukishima found it impossible to block out the piercing static of Yamaguchi’s thoughts, and a steady litany of panic rushed through his head. His friend was freaking out, and it could not help bleeding over to Tsukishima. With every new pitch Yamaguchi’s mental litany of oh my god oh my god why didn’t he say anything is he okay reached, Tsukishima’s stomach lurched.

“Just – just give me a –” He belched again, and could taste acid in the back of his throat. Immediately his mouth clicked closed. Instead of panting for air, all Tsukishima could really focus on was breathing.

“Please don’t throw up, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi whimpered, hand steady on his back. “I’m sorry, I really am, I’m so sorry --”

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

“Sorry!”

Tsukishima allowed himself to slump to his knees again. The world around him was spinning a bit too much for him to hold himself up. His stomach lurched, and he spat a mouthful of saliva onto the ground.

Yamaguchi’s hand was still on his back, massaging gentle circles into his shoulder blades. His thoughts were slowly calming down; as he knelt by his side, Tsukishima could feel him consciously trying to project soothing thoughts into his telepathic friend’s head.

“Do you feel like you’re going to throw up?” Yamaguchi asked in a low voice.

In response, Tsukishima doubled forward and brought up a rush of bile into the grass.

“Oh.”

There wasn’t much to throw up -- an apple he’d eaten for lunch, along with a few crackers and a soda from earlier. Once he was empty, Tsukishima slumped forward, breaths coming harsh and ragged. Yamaguchi’s hand was still on his back; but at the moment, Tsukishima honestly would have preferred his arms around him. He deserved to feel those muscles, dammit.

“Let’s get you inside,” Yamaguchi said softly. “No more rides after this. I promise.”