#sickdays 3.0

[toosicktoocare]

Sick Days 3.0 #25

25: Changing Colours Suggestions: Grey faced, white knuckled, crimson flush, two bright red spots, green around the gills, black and blue bruises, ruby red blood, oozing yellowish green, black necrosis, blue lips, yellow jaundice, dark purple hemorrhaging, and many others.

[Fandom: Spider-Man Homecoming]

Tony’s tired when he and Peter arrive back at Stark Tower. His bones pop and crack with each dragging step, and there’s a dull ache pulsing along his back. He wants sleep, a lot of it, but he’s not sure how much he will get with Peter still buzzing from the high of the fight.

“Did you see the way I webbed that one guy in the face, and he was so confused and hit that other guy right in the danger zone?” Peter asks, bouncing on his feet as he skips to walk backwards in front of Tony. “I’ve never heard a man scream that high.” 

Tony arches a brow. “Danger zone? What are you? Five?” 

Peter laughs and rubs at the back of his neck with his mask in hand. “It’s just something Ned and I say.” 

Tony tilts his head with a slight frown. “Ned? His name isn’t Ted?” 

“No! I’ve told you at least fifteen times now!” Peter shouts, so exasperated by Tony’s inability to remember his friend’s name that he fails to look back to see the table behind him. He crashes into it and tumbles to the floor with a sharp hiss, hand instantly flying toward his abdomen. 

Tony wants to laugh. His natural response is to laugh, but the spike of humor is clouded by Peter’s face scrunched up in pain. “You said you weren’t hurt,” Tony spits out as he whips around the table to crouch beside Peter. 

“I’m not,” Peter mutters through clenched teeth as he pushes up into a sitting position. His stomach flares hot from the subtle movement, and he keeps his arm pressed to it while struggling to his feet. 

Tony moves up into a stand with Peter; he keeps his hands to himself but stays close in case Peter’s legs give out. “Then what is this?” He asks, motioning toward Peter’s obvious distress. “Are you practicing being hurt? Trying to get into show biz? If that’s the case, you don’t need practice; you’ll get the Oscar at this rate.” He pauses, tapping at his temple. “You’re even sweating, and you look pale.” 

Peter breathes out a huff and moves to slip out of his suit. He winces as it slips down his abdomen and grits his teeth together when he steps out entirely. He tugs at his undershirt, lifting it slightly to see the source of the pain. Black and blue bruises litter his stomach and spread across to his sides and up to his chest. He remembers getting hit a few times in battle, but he hadn’t thought it was that hard. 

Tony’s voice stays calm but his blown pupils betray his composure. “Is anything broken?” He questions as slightly trembling eyes scan the dark bruises. He thought he had been doing a good job of keeping track of Peter and the enemies, but he must have slipped up, and Peter’s bruised torso is the visible proof. 

Peter twists a little and prods at his ribs with furrowed brows. “I don’t think so. Just a bunch of bruises.” It hurts, a searing pain that’s incredibly uncomfortable. He knows it will heal, but that thought alone never takes away from the pain. 

“We can ice it,” Tony says, crossing his arms. “And get you some pain killers.” 

“Mr. Stark, I’m-”

“In clear pain, so you can save the ‘I’m fine’ spiel for another day.” Tony starts toward the med bay, knowing that Peter will follow, but he keeps his pace slower than usual, not because of his own aches and pains, but because he wants to stick a safe distance to Peter in case the younger boy falters in his steps.  

[mypoorfaves]

Right as Rain

Written for Sickdays 3.0 day 6, I Have Some Regrets

Summary: Yuuri runs to the pharmacy to get medicine to stave off his oncoming cold, all whilst keeping his illness a secret from Victor. Then Yuuri gets caught in the rain, which doesn’t do good for his already-weakened immune system. How will Victor react when Yuuri comes home soaking wet and freezing cold, and how will Yuuri recover?

This fic goes along with some lovely artwork (1, 2, 3 and 4) by @kotyonoksnz. I hope you enjoy this!!

2000~ words

～～～

By the time Yuuri finally exits the pharmacy, storm clouds are looming overhead foretelling of rain. Yuuri lets out a groan of frustration; the weather had been fine earlier, but now the skies look ready to pour, and Yuuri doesn’t have an umbrella with him. There was no indication he would even be needing one when he had first headed out.

He decides against going back into the store and buying an umbrella. He has already spent enough time trying to decode the Cyrillic written on the bottles of medication and eventually had to ask for help from some of the staff. Yuuri had somehow managed to hold a conversation to get what he needed, but he doesn’t feel like going through the trouble again.

He doesn’t need to waste time buying a product he already has many more of at home. Plus, home isn’t too far awayーonly about a 15 minute walk. Yuuri can surely outrun the weather before it gets too bad. Victor is undoubtedly waiting for him, probably worried sick. With that thought in mind, Yuuri begins to make his way back.

He didn’t tell Victor where he was going because he figured his trip wouldn’t take as long as it did. Yuuri has felt a cold steadily creeping in these past couple of days, so he had headed out to the pharmacy without telling his fiance so as not to bother him. If Yuuri simply takes some medicine and gets enough rest, he’ll get over his cold before Victor even suspects he is sick!

At least, that was the plan.

It’s not even two minutes into Yuuri’s jog that the rain starts to come down. It starts off as a light drizzle, then it quickly becomes heavier, the rain falling in thick sheets that pelt Yuuri and numb his skin. It actually feels quite nice at first, refreshing against his too-warm skinーfrom exertion, he tells himself, not yet from a fever.

Yuuri picks up his pace. He runs for another couple of minutes against the storm before his body can’t take anymore. He must be coming down with this cold faster than he originally thought; his usually impressive stamina is already depleted, and his lungs feel like they’re on fire as Yuuri coughs, struggling to take in oxygen. He slows to a walk, too tired to run any further.

The rain is not letting up, and now Yuuri feels the cold seeping in. He hugs the bag of medicine closer to his body and he feels a smidgen warmer. His clothes are soaked and hair is drenched. Water drips from the dark stands down onto his nose, aggravating the tickle he’s been trying to ignore. Yuuri dips his head down, releasing a sharp hhatschh! He feels absolutely dismal, soaked to the bone, teeth chattering as his body is wracked with violent shivers. All he wants is to be home, curled up in bed with Victor under the blankets. He just hopes Victor won’t be mad at him for being out so late…

～

Yuuri arrives home feeling equal parts miserable and guilty, and only feels worse as he opens the door to see Victor standing facing away from the door with his phone held to his ear. His other hand is at his mouth as Victor anxiously bites on his thumbnail. It’s then that Yuuri becomes aware of the muffled chirp of his ringtone in his sweater pocket. (It’s a miracle the device still works despite how covered in water it must be.) Victor seems to notice the noise at the same time he does. He abruptly turns towards Yuuri, not having noticed him enter before. They meet eyes for a second before Yuuri quickly looks away, still feeling guilty.

“Yuuri!” Victor says, relief clear in his voice. Yuuri can hear him coming closer. “I was so worried! Where did you go?” Yuuri is just about to answer when Victor’s eyes fall upon the bag Yuuri is clutching to his chest with the name of the pharmacy written on it. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going out? I thought maybe something terrible had happened to you when you weren’t answering your phone!”

“I’m sorry for worrying you…” Yuuri mumbles. “I’m fine,” he lies. “Just really tired. I want to go to bed.” The last part at least, is true.

“Nonsense! You’re soaking wet! I’ll help you dry off and warm up. You’ll catch a cold otherwise.” Yuuri gives a short nod and a quiet hum of affirmation, knowing that a cold is now inevitable at this point, but he let’s Victor run to fetch the towels nonetheless. In the meantime, Yuuri takes a seat on one of the kitchen chairs and rests his head on the table.

The next time Yuuri opens his eyes, (when did he even close them?) there’s a steaming mug of tea in front of him and someone is toweling his hair dry. Yuuri cups the mug in both hands, allowing the warmth to seep into his cold fingers as he gingerly brings the drink to his lips. Victor continues to dry his hair, a comfortable silence filling the room. By the time Victor has deemed Yuuri’s hair sufficiently dried, Yuuri has finished less than half of his tea, but he’s too tired to drink any more. Victor is understanding and offers an open hand to Yuuri. He takes it and stands and lets Victor lead him to the bedroom, Yuuri feeling dead on his feet.

Victor helps Yuuri out of his wet clothes and into clean dry ones, then changes his own clothes as well. Yuuri climbs into bed and burrows under the covers, sighing contently as Victor’s arms wrap around him. Exhausted from a long day and feeling safe and secure in the embrace of the one he loves, Yuuri falls asleep.

～

He awakens in the middle of the night with his head on Victor’s chest and chills throughout his body. He trembles uncontrollably and shifts to try and get comfortable. Underneath him, Victor stirs, his sleepy blue eyes looking down to meet Yuuri’s brown ones. They feel heavy, like his eyelids are weighed down. “Maybe that walk wasn’t such a good idea…” Yuuri’s voice is weak and his nose feels irritated, a hint of congestion beginning to make itself known.

Victor places the back of his hand on Yuuri’s forehead, giving a ‘tsk’ at the heat that’s there. “No, solnyshko, I don’t think it was,” Victor says and places a sympathetic kiss on the top of his head. The irritation in Yuuri’s nose turns into a tingling sensation, and Yuuri’s breath hitches. With no other warning, he ducks his nose into Victor’s chest and sneezes twice.

“Hhkschiu! Ihkschh!”

“Oh you poor thing,” Victor coos and stokes Yuuri’s hair. Yuuri shivers at the feelingーalthough it may just be chills from his fever. “We’ll get you to take some medicine in the morning, then you’ll be feeling right as rain,” Victor says, somehow oblivious to the irony of his words. Unless he is purposely teasing Yuuri. Regardless, Yuuri gives a pitiful whine, curls up closer against Victor and quickly falls back asleep.

～

“You shouldn’t hide from me when you’re not feeling well, Yuuri,” Victor chides, frowning at the thermometer he’s holding in his hand. Victor won’t tell him how high the numbers are, only that he has a fever, although Yuuri already knew that. He opens his mouth to apologize, but Victor speaks before he can. “I’m not mad, I just want to be there for you. You’re not alone anymore. You can rely on me. Okay, solnyshko?” Victor asks with a gentle smile.

Yuuri returns the smile and switches his apology for a soft, “I love you,” instead.

“I love you too,” Victor says, his smile growing more fond. “Now let’s get you better!” He retrieves the bag of pharmaceutical goods. “It’s actually a good thing you went out yesterday, since all we have left in the medicine cabinet is painkillers,” Victor admits sheepishly whilst reaching into the bag. He withdraws a small box and frowns at it for a moment, then sets it next to him on the bed with a hum, sounding dissatisfied. He reaches into the bag again, pulling out a bottle of pills and reading the label with a similar reaction. “Oh, Yuuri…” Victor sighs sympathetically. He dumps the remaining contents of the bag onto the bed, and another two bottles as well as a pack of flu masks tumble out.

“What is it?” Yuuri asks hesitantly.

“You bought the wrong medicine. This one here is for stomach aches, and while this other one is cough medicine, it’s for more severe illnesses like bronchitis.”

“Oh…” Yuuri’s shoulders slump in defeat. He had thought his ability to understand Russian was getting better, but it looks like that is not the case if he can’t even buy the correct medicine.

“It’s okay, Yuuri!” Victor reassures him and starts to get up. “I’ll go out and buy what we need.”

Yuuri panics at the words, grabbing Victor’s hand so he doesn’t leave. “Wait! I don’t want to be alone…” Yuuri says in a small voice.

“Then do you want to come with me?” Yuuri nods in response. “But you’re so sick…” Victor says, reluctant to let Yuuri go.

Yuuri himself is fairly reluctant to leave the warm confines of his bed, but he would be even more miserable left to sleep there alone and without Victor next to him.

“I’ll wear a facemask so I don’t get anyone else sick,” Yuuri says. He knows that’s not what Victor is trying to say, but it’s true that he doesn’t want to infect others if he can avoid it. Plus, wearing the mask also allows him to hide from the embarrassment of being recognized by the staff he was talking to just yesterday.

“We could always ask Yurio to get stuff for us,” Victor suggests.

“After what happened last time?” Yuuri counters.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Victor trails off, no doubt remembering the sound of Yuuri’s sobs coming from the bedroom and running there to find a distressed and fevered Yuuri thinking that Yurio hates him. Although the teen doesn’t truly despise the two, it’s unlikely he would go out of his way to run another errand for them just because Yuuri has the sniffles. (Again.)

“Okay, fine,” Victor acquiesces. “You can come with me, but we’re driving there.”

Satisfied, Yuuri pushes himself out of bed and puts on his glasses, a facemask, a scarf and his jacket to fend off the chills before heading out with Victor.

～

They have been standing in line for what feels like ages, and Yuuri’s feet are aching. His nose feels swollen and irritated under his mask from the many times he has tried and failed to blow it; all it did was make his ears pop, the dry tissues rubbing his septum raw. Yuuri’s congestion is giving him a headache, and the bright artificial lights of the pharmacy are certainly not helping.

He loops his arm into Victor’s, full of medicine (the right medicine this time), and leans on him for support. “This is taki’g forever. I’mb goi’g to die,” Yuuri moans, congestion painfully evident. He sniffles in a futile attempt to try and clear his clogged sinuses, but to no avail.

“Well, if you’d rather go run around in the rain to pass the time, I can hold your coat for you,” comes Victor’s snide reply. “I know you enjoy that.”

Yuuri plops his head onto Victor’s shoulder with a tired sigh. “I’mb sorry,” he mumbles.

“Me too. I shouldn’t tease you when you’re obviously not feeling well.” Yuuri closes his eyes and gives a weak nod, feeling like he could fall asleep on the spot. His facemask is keeping him nice and warm, as are his coat and scarf. Not to mention the man next to him. Victor places a gentle kiss on the top of Yuuri’s head, letting him drift off with promises to take a proper nap together once they get home.

～～～

(End)

Notes: solnyshko is a petname meaning sun or my sun in Russian

[fluffyllamas-23]

I…have some regrets

Day whatever of sickdays   I think it’s day 5? But I honestly can’t remember lol

Prompt: Your character did something, but now it’s coming back and biting them in the butt. 

This is so much longer than anything I’ve written lately lol enjoy my peeps.

Shiro and Allura had been flirting back and forth for months now.  It was obvious to everyone that knew them and saw the two interact, that they liked each other very much.

Finally, after weeks of psyching himself up and convincing himself that she most likely wouldn’t say no, he asked her out.  To his relief (and surprise, honestly), she said yes.

Since they were both college students, and their schedules were so different, it took them a while to nail down a day that worked for both of them.  

Shiro had been looking forward to it the days leading up to their date.  

School had been beyond stressful these past few weeks - between all of the projects, papers and tests that his professors had assigned, he had gotten very little sleep.  His immune system had suffered - his apparent penance for all the sleepless nights - and he woke up the day of the date, head pounding and throat aching.  

“No.” He groaned, hiding his head under the pillow.  Not today.  Not now.  Not when he was finally, finally, going out with her.

He had been waiting so long for this.

Typically when he got sick, he could feel it coming on for days in advance, but this had come completely out of the blue.

He felt weak, and heavy and achey and cold.  It was then that he noticed he was shivering, and no matter how deeply he burrowed into his blankets, he still couldn’t get warm.  

He needed to kick this thing before he saw her, because there was no way in hell he was canceling.  

Shiro forced himself out of bed for some medicine.  

“Good morning…well, afternoon, sleeping beauty.” Hunk greeted him, looking up from his laptop when Shiro walked in the kitchen. “What time is it?” He rasped. “One…are you okay?” “I’m…uh…not feeling too great.” Hunk slammed his laptop shut.  “Do you need a doctor?” Shiro rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.” “I just…you never admit when you don’t feel well.  It’s gotta be pretty bad then.” Hunk frowned. “You’re shivering too.  Fever?” Shiro rubbed his forehead.  “I think.  I was going to grab some medicine and go back to sleep.” “Hey, isn’t your date tonight? You gonna cancel?” Shiro scoffed.  “No.” “You look like shit.  Sound like it, too.  She’s going to be so pissed if you show up sick when you should be in bed.” “I’ll be fine.” He said, waving Hunk off.

Luckily, he wasn’t coughing or sneezing, and he hoped it would stay that way.

Shiro took some DayQuil, and then walked back into his bedroom and collapsed into bed. He sent Allura a ‘Looking forward to tonight ;) I’ll see you at seven’ text, set his alarm, and then promptly fell asleep.

When he woke up, he didn’t feel any better. While that sucked, and he was hoping he would have felt a greater improvement, he didn’t feel any worse.  So that was okay, he guessed.

He glanced at the clock, rubbed a hand over his face, and forced himself out of bed.  He would have rather stayed in bed, and he knew that he should have postponed, but he had been waiting to take her out since the moment he met her.  He wasn’t going to let his stupid immune system screw with his plans.

Shiro stepped into his bathroom, pressing a hand to his face to gauge how warm his skin was - he was no longer shivering, which was an improvement.

Thirty minutes later, he was standing on her stoop, waiting anxiously for her to open the door.

“You look beautiful.” Shiro breathed when she finally did.  He handed her the bouquet of wildflowers, and she immediately blushed and shot him a shy smile. “Thank you. These are gorgeous.  I’m going to go put them in a vase - would you like to come in?” He nodded, stepping inside as she walked back into the kitchen.  He watched as she walked away, his eyes drifting down to her slim waist and then down to her ass. She looked over her shoulder at him, a smirk on her face and he flushed. His eyes immediately snapped to the ceiling, and she just laughed.  “Shiro, you naughty, naughty man.  Were you staring?” “Who? Me? No, never.” She chuckled, and disappeared into the kitchen.  When she returned, she wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled into his chest.  “I’m really looking forward to tonight.” “Me too.” He rasped, wrapping his arms around her.   She frowned and looked up at him. “Are you alright? You sound…off.” “I’m okay.” Her eyes searched his face, and her frown deepened. “You’re pale.” He sighed in defeat. “I’m a little..under the weather, but I’m fine.” Her face fell.  “If you’re not feeling well, we can always reschedule.” Shiro shook his head frantically.  “No.  Really, Allura, I’m fine.  I don’t feel that bad, promise.” Allura eyed him warily.  “You’ll tell me if you start to feel too bad, right?” He nodded, but had no intention to do so.  “Yeah, I promise.” She let out a sigh.  “I don’t know…we can always stay in.  I don’t want you to get worse.” “Allura, I’m fine.” “Okay, okay! I’m sorry.  I’ll leave you alone.” She grinned. He grinned at her.  “Are you ready to go?” She nodded, a smile crossing her face.

They had gone to dinner.  Shiro didn’t eat much, and although Allura noticed with a pinched expression, she stayed silent.  Then they went to see a movie - Shiro definitely kept nodding off, and again, Allura noticed but said nothing. Currently, they were currently grabbing a cup of coffee.  

Shiro had steadily felt worse over the course of the night, and he was doing a terrible job of hiding it.  

“Shiro.” Allura said softly, reaching forward across the table to put her hand over his.  “You’re looking really miserable.  I really think it’s time to get you home.” He wretched away from her, burying his nose and mouth in a napkin. “Hhh…hiiH’TSHH! Hih’tSHH! Hihh’ktSHH! *snff* I’mb finde.” She shot him a sympathetic look, and stood up from the table. “You’ve been sniffling and sneezing all night.  Come on, you can’t be feeling well. You promised you’d tell me if you felt worse.” He sniffled, eyes filling with tears.  “I’mb sorry.” “Why are you sorry?” She frowned, standing up.   He blinked the tears away and then cleared his throat.   “I ruined the date.  I’mb sohhh…hih…hiiH’TSHH! *Snff* Sorry.” Her eyes softened.  “You didn’t ruin the date.  I had a great time, I’m just sorry you’re not feeling well.” He just sniffled.  Allura put a hand between his shoulder blades, and he stood up.

She moved her hand so it was on his lower back, and they walked out of the coffee shop.

“Oh shit. It’s raining.” She hissed, crossing her arms. It wasn’t just raining, no, it was a torrential downpour. It was cold out, too, and Allura hadn’t brought a jacket, instead she was just in her jeans, boots, and short-sleeved, flowy blouse.   “Here.” Shiro croaked, and draped his jacket over her shoulders. She looked up at him with wide eyes.   She tried shrugging “Shiro, no.” “Dond’t fight mbe ond it, Allura.” He sniffled. “You’re sick. If you get caught in the rain, you’re going to get really bad.  Let me go grab the car and bring it around.” He shook his head.  “Ndo.  I’ll be finde, if we have to end the date early, please let mbe have this. Besides, I dond’t wandt you to catch andythindg.” She sighed, an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Despite how awful he looked, he was wearing such a hopeful expression, and looked so cute, that she couldn’t say no.  “Okay…but I’m wrapping you up in a blanket and making you tea and soup when I get you home.” He nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose and stifling a flurry of sneezes.  “*Snff* Deal.” “I don’t like this.  I really don’t like this.” “It’ll be finde.” He promised.

He took a deep breath, and then stepped out into the pouring rain.  Immediately, he was soaked, his black shirt clinging to his body.  His hair was plastered to his forehead, droplets of water falling into his eyes.  

He regretted his decision instantaneously, but made the two minute walk to his car as quickly as possible.

*

Allura’s place was closer, so they went there instead of going back to his place.  She immediately sent him upstairs to take a hot shower, and then called Hunk.

“Hey, Allura!” He greeted her. “Would you be able to bring Shiro some clothes to my place?” “What have you two crazy kids been up to?” He asked suggestively. She rolled her eyes.  “We got caught in the rain, and he’s really not feeling well.” “Shit, is he okay?” “Uh…not sure? He will be, though.  He just needs some dry clothes.” “Yeah, I’ll be there soon.”

Shiro was too exhausted, and felt too weak to stand upright in the shower.  He found himself sitting on the floor, his back against the tiled walls with his head back as the hot water hit his body.  He was shivering hard, his teeth chattering as his body trembled.  He wanted to get out, dry off, and bury himself underneath a mountain of blankets, but he was too achey and heavy to stand. He had been coughing almost incessantly, and it was making his chest burn.

Ten minutes later, the water had gone cold, but still, he couldn’t bring himself to stand up. The congestion had gotten worse - both in his head and his chest, and he felt miserable.

There was a knock on the bathroom door, and then Hunk poked his head in.

“Hey, man.  How’re you doing?” Shiro frowned, confusion going through his fevered brain.  “Hundk? I thought…amb I at Allura’s?” “Damn, you’re really out of it, huh?” Hunk asked, eyebrows furrowing together. “Yeah, you’re at Allura’s, she just asked if I could bring you over some clothes.  Ready to get out? You sound like shit, I could hear you coughing from downstairs.” Shiro just groaned.  Hunk shut off the water, and hissed when some of it hit his hand.  “Why is the water so damn freezing? You’re just making yourself worse, what the fuck, man?” Shiro sniffled.  “It was hot at first.”
  Hunk helped him out of the shower, and wrapped a towel around him.  “Okay, are you able to dress yourself? I’m really not down for doing that.” Shiro nodded dazedly after a beat, and Hunk nudged him towards Allura’s bedroom. 

A pair of sweats, long sleeved shirt, hoodie, underwear and fuzzy socks were folded up and sitting on her duvet.  

Hunk left to give him some privacy, but told him to call for him if he needed help.

“How is he?” Allura asked anxiously. “Not…great.” Hunk sighed. “He was sitting on the floor of the shower with icy water beating down on him.” She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.  “I knew that it was a bad idea for him to give me his jacket.  Do you think he’s feverish?” “Oh, absolutely.  I didn’t check, but I was helping him out of the shower and I could feel the heat radiating from him.  He’s really out of it, too.” They heard a weak and raspy “help” coming from her room. When Hunk opened the door, he burst out laughing.  

“What?” Allura asked. “I feel bad for laughing, but…hey, buddy.  You good?” He asked, crouching in front of Shiro.  

Shiro had managed to get his underwear on correctly, but that was it.  He had pulled one of his sweat pant legs over both of his, trapping them.  His shirt was around his neck like a scarf, and his head was trapped in the sleeve of his sweatshirt.  

“Help.” Shiro croaked, swaying lightly in his spot.  Hunk and Allura pulled Shiro to his feet, and then sat him on her bed.  Hunk fixed Shiro’s sweats, and Allura fixed his shirt and sweatshirt.  He immediately flopped to his side, coughing miserably.

“He sounds really bad.” Allura grimaced, putting a hand on his cheek. “Oh shit.  Yeah, he’s burning up.” Hunk glanced at the time on his phone.  “I would stay and help, but I need to get to work.” Allura put her hand on his shoulder.  “It’s fine.  Thank you, Hunk.”

*

When Shiro opened his eyes next, he glanced around the room blearily.  He had no memory of anything after parking in Allura’s driveway at the end of their date.  He was in her bed, he presumed, buried underneath a thick pink duvet. He pushed himself to a sitting position, and slumped back into the pillows.  

He felt worse than he remembered, so much so that it nearly brought him to tears. 

Everything felt wrong. 

His entire body hurt, as if he’d been been ran over by a semi truck, and then dragged through hell and back. His head was aching, in fact, he was pretty sure he was getting a migraine.  He was stuffed up, too; it felt like his head had been filled with sludge, and he had a constant, deep-seated itchy tickle in his sinuses. He could feel the congestion in his chest crackling with each inhale, and he felt an incessant urge to cough.  He shouldn’t have gone out in the rain yesterday, he should have just let her bring the car around.

“Shiro?”  Allura asked softly. “How are you feeling?’ He whimpered pitifully, lying back down, closing his eyes.  “I have sombe regrets.” She got onto the bed next to him, and he immediately cuddled up to her and put his head in her lap.  She began carding her fingers through his hair. “Yeah, I’ll bet you do.” She sighed. “I’m going to go get you some medicine, okay?” He shook his head, grabbing onto the bottom of her shirt.  “Ndo…dond’t leave.”

“Okay.  I’m not going anywhere.” She said softly.  They lapsed into silence, the only sound being his congested and ragged breathing.

[sickdaysofficial]

Sickdays 3: Changing Colour

A/N: Written using two of my ocs, Jethro and Eden - there is going to be a sequel to this but probs not in time for the sickdays event! Hope you enjoy! 😊

TW: Blood

            Jethro needed to prop open his eyelids with matchsticks. His eyelashes seemed to have been weighed down with lead, dragging them shut every time he blinked. The hands of the clock were ticking by very slowly; at this rate, Jethro was pretty sure they’d never get to the end of this period, and even when he did he still had another period to go until the end of the school day. He supported his head using one hand, while using the other to pinch hard at the top of his thigh, intending that the sharp pain would help his neurons keep firing.

            “Jethro?” A soft voice came from his right side and Jethro’s head jerked up, realising suddenly that he had fallen asleep. His history teacher was kneeling next to his desk, looking slightly worried.

            “Oh, sorry Mr McGuigan!” Jethro gasped, rubbing one hand across his face and feeling his cheeks burn hot at the embarrassment of being caught asleep during class.

            “Don’t worry,” he replied very calmly, talking quietly so as the surrounding students didn’t hear. “You’re very pale, are you feeling okay?”

            “I… um… I’m not sure,” Jethro said honestly; he felt so very tired, but he couldn’t establish quite why he was so exhausted.

            “You look like you’re maybe coming down with something,” he told him. “Why don’t you go to the office and see if you can go home a little early today?”

            “I don’t want to miss class,” Jethro mumbled, although the thought of going home and to his bed sounded heavenly.

            “I’m not sure you being here is doing you any good right now Jethro,” he answered, slightly more firmly.

            “Yeah…” Jethro agreed, closing his textbook and jotter then bundling them into his arms. A few of his fellow student’s heads turned as he got up from his desk, but he didn’t care right now – he was thankful that he was getting to go home to rest.

            The lady at the office took one look at him and picked up the phone to call home for him, then informed him that his brother was coming to pick him up. Jethro sat in the reception, sinking his head into his hands again, and taking some deep breaths as he felt like an anchor was pressing down onto his chest. He couldn’t understand why he felt so lousy… He’d woken up a couple of times during the night, feeling absolutely sweltering hot, but with the rising temperature as they headed towards summer he’d assumed it was because of that – so maybe he’d gotten less sleep than he’d realised. He was so pleased when he saw Eden walking up the path to the school office; he took barely a minute to speak to the school administrator before he turned to Jethro.

            “You look awful,” Eden commented, retrieving his younger brother’s schoolbag from next to his chair. “Are you feeling sick?”

            “Not really,” Jethro answered, “I’m just exhausted… I didn’t sleep very well last night.”

            “Right then, let’s get you home and you can get some rest,” Eden nodded and Jethro followed him out to the car.

            Jethro was quiet on the car journey and Eden was concerned about his lack of talking, cause normally the two of them chatted almost constantly. Eden glanced repeatedly across at his younger brother, whose eyes were closed and he appeared to be almost dozing off in the five minute journey. Eden had to nudge him awake when he’d parked in their driveway, and he left the car in silence to go into the house. He paused at the bottom of the stairs once he was inside, taking his shoes off and shoving them in the rack.

            “I’m going to bed,” Jethro mumbled, sounding sleepy.

            “Do you want me to bring you anything up?” Eden asked, but Jethro shook his head. “Okay, just yell if you need me.”

            “Yeah…” Jethro trudged up the stairs, his exhaustion had gotten worse since he’d been picked up by Eden and he now felt like he was wading through treacle with every moment. He crawled into bed, still fully clothed in his school uniform, and was asleep within minutes.

            Jethro’s face was damp and the claustrophobic warmth of a duvet wrapped around his fully clothed body was stifling. He still felt drowsy, like he could slip back into sleep immediately if it wasn’t for the sticky sensation around his face and neck.

            Pushing his covers away from his face, the bright light from his window made him squint and he rubbed his hand across his face, trying to remove the sweat that pooling on his face. He turned over onto his side, and panicked.

            The whole side of the pillow, duvet and his hand were covered in bright red blood that was beginning to congeal, becoming thick and globulated. Jethro sat bolt upright in his bed, staring around at his covers and instantly felt a steady drip coming from his nose; fresh blood blossomed out in spots onto his duvet as he put his hand up to stem the flow.

            “Eden?” Jethro’s voice crackeld as he tried to call for help. “Eden!”

            Jethro flung the covers away from him, wobbling as he got out of bed and tried to make his way through to the bathroom, blood leaking through his fingers as he walked. Being upright seemed to have caused an extra spurt of blood, he inadvertently swallowed a large gulp of blood and his mouth was coated with a metallic taste.

            “Jethro? What is it?” Jethro could hear Eden’s footsteps as he tried to push open the bathroom door using his elbow to avoid spreading more blood onto the door. “Jethro?” Eden had come up behind him, spotting the absolute carnage caused by the slick of blood that Jethro was leaving behind. “Holy crap!”

            “It woke me up!” Jethro cried, the blood pouring from his nose didn’t seem to be slowing down and he was beginning to feel a little light headed from all the sudden movement.

            “Okay – don’t worry!” Eden replied, but he sounded a little panicked himself. “First thing is to get this nosebleed under control.” Eden gripped Jethro’s shoulder and steered him into the bathroom and forced him to sit down on the toilet; Eden grabbed a bundle of toilet roll and used it to very firmly pinch the soft part of Jethro’s nose. “I’ll do this, you just concentrate on breathing.”

            The grip of Eden’s hand was reassuring on his shoulder, and he closed his eyes as Eden pinched so hard it almost hurt. He hated nosebleeds – they were the worst in the world. The skin of his face was becoming stiff because of the drying blood, and the amount of blood that he’d swallowed was curdling inside his stomach. The rapid loss of blood made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and his head started to feel fuzzy.

            “Jethro? Are you dizzy?” Eden asked quickly, as Jethro was leaning more heavily to one side.

            “A little…” Jethro murmured honestly, his voice sounded like it was coming from very far away. Then he felt Eden’s free hand move from his shoulder to the back of his head and push it down towards his knees.

            “Just stay there for a few minutes Jethro,” Eden said reassuringly, rubbing his hand across Jethro’s shoulder blades. Very slowly the fuzziness of reality changed and became more solid again; but being bent so awkwardly forward meant his stomach was being squashed into an uncomfortable position.

            “I don’t like it…” Jethro whimpered, feeling increasing discomfort in his gut region.

            “I think the bleeding has stopped now,” Eden told him gently, removing the wad of tissues that were covered in blood and was pleased when no more came from Jethro’s nose. “Just stay there for a second, let the blood get back to your brain.”

            Jethro tried to obey what Eden had told him, but his stomach made a funny lurch and he raised his head quickly as he felt the rush of liquid up his throat.

            “Hbbbrrrrlll!” Jethro had no time to warm Eden before a sudden projectile of blood mixed with the rest of Jethro’s stomach contents landed in a puddle on the bathroom floor at Jethro’s feet.

            “Oh Jethro!” Eden exclaimed, moving from where he was standing to stop Jethro from falling forward entirely. “Get it out… don’t worry about it.” He assured as Jethro let out a strangled sob and retched weakly again.

            “I – couldn’t help – it!” Jethro spluttered through brief heaves as his body clearly wasn’t happy after ingesting blood. “Brrruuuuuuullllb!” Another weak dribble of sick spilled over his chin and dripped down his front.

            “Oh dear,” Eden muttered, grabbing another wad of toilet paper and wiping the puke from his younger brother’s face while trying to rub circles into his back in the hope it might calm him down. Jethro looked very young and scared as Eden mopped at his face, removing the vomit that was clinging around his mouth and the blood that had dried onto his cheeks. Jethro’s breathing was beginning to calm down as he regulated himself. “That’s it, deep breath in… and out…”

            Jethro eventually hiccupped himself into silence; his face still ridiculously pale and, now, mournful looking as he watched Eden clean up his face and hands so tenderly he could barely feel it.

            “Sorry…” He muttered eventually, and was surprised by Eden’s reaction. Eden had straightened up from where he was cleaning and wrapped his arms around Jethro, not seemingly caring that Jethro was covered in a plethora of bodily fluids.

            “Don’t apologise about it Jethro,” Eden confirmed, holding him close. “You can’t help not being well…”

            “I know, but…” Jethro began, but wasn’t quite sure what to say next.

            “Once you’re properly cleaned up, you can go and get some rest in my bed while I sort yours out,” Eden told him, releasing him from the hug and looking into his face – Jethro was still ghostly pale, but he gave a weak smile.

            “Thank you,” Jethro murmured.

            “Let’s get you all cleaned up,” Eden encouraged, opening the bin and disposing of the wads of soiled tissues and turning to face the next mess to sort out. 

[amber474]

IronDad & Spider-Son Fic Recs

1) The “Thunder and Lightning” Series by ObservationalObsessive 

2) The “Lights to Guide You Home” Series by Jolinar Jackson

3) The “Out of Darkness” Series by StarryKnight09

4) “With Great Care” by Giggles96 (WIP)

5) “What They Saw” by yesyeshyes

6) “Repeat After Me” & “This Tiny Bird” by battybatzgirl

7) “Spider-ling, Spider-Boy, Spider-Man” by JustmeSpidey (WIP)

8) The “Long Way Round” Series by undeerqueen

9) The “road to recovery” Series by electricindigo

10) “Social Call?” by hecklesyeah

11) “5 Times Peter Made Tony Laugh Out Loud” & “5 Times Peter Pretended to Be Tougher Than He Was” & “5 Times Tony Didn’t Need to Worry About Peter” by grilledcheesing

12) “5 Times Peter Fell and Tony Caught Him. And the 1 Time Tony Didn’t” by eva7673

13) “Welcome to the Family” by FriendLey

14) “Sickdays 3.0 Day 1: Not the Norm” & “Sickdays 3.0 Day 2: Anywhere but Here“ & “Sickdays 4.0 Day 5: Worse Than Expected“ by sickficlurker

15) “Five Times Peter Accidentally Called Tony ‘Dad,’ and the One Time Tony Called Him ‘Son’” by RikkiBarnes

16) “A Different Sky” by iustuscadens

And OK, wow... So many more, but that’s it for now ^_^ I have to include the more recent ones later...

@screamingpies

[all-the-hurt]

Sick Keith Drabble (Sickdays 3.0)

Sooo I’m trying to particupate in Sickdays 3.0 but i’m reeeeeeally insecure. I was gonna write a casual drabble for the 29th prompt (basically alternative and/or questionable remedies) and somehow it’s turned into a five page Keith whump and angst-fest. But I’m mid-writing and super disheartened and unsure how to end it? So here’s a tiny portion of it. Does anyone think this is any good at all? If so, please let me know because it will literally be my first ever sickfic posted and I’m soooo scared. Feedback would be really, really appreciated? Because I want to post the full thing on Saturday but idk i’m scared? 

Warning: pretty graphic descriptions of vomit 

~read the warning plzzzz~

He can barely see now that he’s up here because his head is pounding and he feels like he’s just spinning. but being off the ground and spinning around is making his stomach roll. He can’t see and he isn’t even sure why but everything is a horrid neon colored blur and he can’t breathe, he can’t think, he can’t figure out what to do.

“Keith, what’s the matter?” he hears Lance ask him in a much too panicked voice, and next thing he knows, vomit is gushing up and out from his mouth. 

With zero warning and one violent gag, a massive wave of vomit bursts up his throat and fills his mouth so suddenly that his it just sort of falls open. He’s spinning so hard he can’t see anything but a whoosh of purple but he feels it as it gushes down his face and all down the front of his chest. Mortified and panicked, he tries to lean forward to at least aim for a retch at the floor but he can’t tell where his body is anymore and he gets about a half a second before another wave is rushing out. 

It’s all liquid, hot, sticky and purple, so it quite literally bubbles up out of his throat and cascades down his body as Keith turns his head around, trying to lean down, but succeeding in spinning his dizzy head around so it’s all over his shirt. 

It won’t stop. 

He realizes this when the next gag comes and he starts to choke and his vision grows dark around the edges. He doesn’t know where he is anymore, if he’s still up on the weird cloud chair and raining puke down on the party guests but everything hurts so much he can’t register any of it. 

And then suddenly, everything pitches violently sideways, Keith tries not to tumble over on his side, but something stops him and lurches him back into place. As the next wave of vomit comes it doesn’t go all over his chest. 

“Okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you, we don’t want you to choke.” 

And then he begins to register the sound of shrieks of terror and disgust. He can’t see clearly; everything’s still looking like the view from a tilt-a-whirl but he can tell that it’s the Alonians, scattering away from him in horror. When he looks down at himself and everything in his close vicinity, all he sees is purple, which he knows is his own mess and it’s everywhere.

“Jesus, Keith, what did you have?” 

Keith tries to reply, but he’s cut off by a retch that’s violent and loud now, rather than the violent rush. He brings up one last mouthful of burning and sour liquid that burns his throat and up his nose. This throws him into a round of dry heaving that shakes his entire body as he hiccups and pants, stomach now empty but his body still very, very upset.

As he heaves and drools, the spinning slows down and his vision shifts into clarity more and more. He regains consciousness of his body again, only to be taken over by painful retches rather than uncontrollable spouts of vomit. He can’t decide which is worse because before it didn’t hurt. 

And now it really, really does. Every retch makes his head feel like he’s being stabbed, makes his throat and nose sting, and his entire torso ache. It all hurts so much—Keith has been stabbed, has walked on broken bones, has fallen down flights of stairs but this hurts worse. 

As he heaves uselessly over the floor, the painful thought flits through his head: 

I want Shiro. 

He never likes to admit to himself how much comfort he took in Shiro’s steady presence, his sometimes overbearing but good-natured concern and care. Keith depended on it, knew that no matter how often he rejected it, Shiro’s support would be there when Keith needed it.  

He wants Shiro here now. Because he has no idea how he’s going to get through this.

[reiouj]

it looks like i won't be able to post sickdays 3.0 on the proper days but i will post them at some point!! sorry guys!!

[toosicktoocare]

Sick Days 3.0 #24

24: Anywhere but here!… Too late. You character is sick or hurt, and this is neither the time nor the place to be dealing with it. And something happens that causes a big scene and/or a big mess. Stipulations are that the setting must be somewhere that it would be really bad and very inconvenient to get sick/hurt, and your character CANNOT leave to deal with it in private. Suggestions: In the middle of a performance, public transportation, a crowded area with no way out, bumper to bumper traffic where they can’t pull off, an amusement park, first date, work (office, factory, construction, etc.) where they are not allowed to leave, classroom, business meeting.

[Fandom: Spider-Man Homecoming]

[Emeto Warning.]

When Peter is pulled from a feverish sleep by his phone ringing at six in the morning, he contemplates smashing his phone against the wall because he’s been fighting a losing battle against what he’s sure is a stomach flu, and he feels terrible. But one glance at his phone, and he shoots up into a sitting position, stomach flipping dangerously, and fumbles to slide the answer button. 

“H-Happy!” He shouts, voice cracking along a painful rasp. He clears his throat and presses his free arm to his stomach. “What’s up?” 

“Why are you taking so long?”

Peter briefly pulls his phone away from his ear with a frown. He checks to make sure he wasn’t mistaken on who he’s talking to then moves a hand to his cheek to see if his fever is worse than he thought. He’s warm, but not enough to warrant confusion, and his eyebrows pull together as he presses his phone back to his ear. “What?” 

“I’m outside. Hurry up.” 

Peter hops out of bed with the grace of a newborn deer. He slips on the shirt he must have ripped off in his sleep and stumbles toward the window. Sure enough, he spots Happy looking as irritated as ever while leaning against the side of a slick, black car. They lock eyes, and Peter offers a sheepish wave that Happy does not return. 

“Can you put some clothes on and get down here before I die of old age?”

Peter nods just as the familiar dropped call chime rings in his ear. He has no idea where he’s going, but if Happy is here, then it must be some official hero business. He fumbles around his dresser drawers for clean clothes and slips on a short-sleeved “Let’s Make Kinetic Energy” shirt, a pair of jeans, and a red zip-up jacket before shoving his feet into a pair of converses. He’s dressed within seconds, but the moment he goes to exit his room, his stomach flares hot with a piercing cramp that has him bracing against an open wall and doubling over with a sharp gasp. 

He takes a moment to focus on the pain and breathe through it. Slight tremors grab hold of his limbs, gearing up for a wave of adrenaline that will take him to bathroom to throw up, but he swallows against the nausea threatening to claw up his throat and breathes through the gripping wave until he’s able to push off the wall and meet Happy. 

*****

Peter eases himself into a seat beside Tony. Happy had driven him to Stark Tower and led him to a large conference room filled with people Peter doesn’t recognize. He keeps his mouth closed and only offers Tony a slight nod of greeting before he curls forward, pressing one arm around his stomach and draping the other atop the cool table top. His body feels as if it’s burning from the inside out; he can feel the back of his shirt clinging to his sweat-slick skin. And, the drive to the tower did nothing but jostle his stomach around until he was forced to sit stick-straight with his mouth clamped close. 

He’s not sure how he’s going to make it through the meeting, but he’s going to try. 

“Now that everyone is here. We need to discuss the sudden bank robberies in New Jersey.” 

Peter turns toward the man sitting at the head of the table. He knows about these bank robberies; Ned had texted him links to news videos. Each one gets more violent then the last, with the latest having four people injured and hospitalized until further notice. 

“I think we need to intervene.” 

Some other members at the table nod in agreement, and Tony leans forward to start planning. Peter tries to follow along, but voices are suddenly falling lost against his heart pulsing loudly in his ears. A new wave of nausea washes over him, leaving him trembling and swallowing frequently as bile threatens to push up his throat. Leaving would be in his best interest, but before he can follow through with that thought, Tony is turning toward him. 

“Peter, what do you... Are you okay?” 

Peter can’t decipher Tony’s expression. His vision is holding a slight waver that’s making it hard to focus on one thing for more than a second. He opens his mouth to reply, but at the same moment, his stomach lurches. He has just enough time to spin his chair away from the table, and then he doubles over and heaves onto the carpeted floor. He’s dimly aware of the room falling silent, with the only sound coming from his gags echoing off the bare walls. For minutes, he’s left in the grips of embarrassment that heat his ears as his body gives into his illness. His muscles are aching from tensing then convulsing around each wave. 

It isn’t until he’s left feeling weak enough that he almost slides off his chair that someone moves. A single strong arm wraps around his chest and pushes him back against the chair, and the owner of the arm begins speaking. 

“Happy, if you would take all of our guests to the base-floor conference room, I’ll handle this.”

Peter sags against his chair and brings his legs up to hug them to his chest. He drops his forehead against his knees and tries to block out the sound of people wordlessly shuffling out of the room. Embarrassment leaves his ears burning hot, and he squeezes his eyes shut and wills the chair to swallow him hole. 

After the door clicks shut, one voice cuts through the silence. “Look at me.” 

Peter takes a moment to pin whatever emotion is hiding behind Tony’s stern voice before he slowly lifts his head. He stays silent as Tony brushes a palm to his forehead before pressing two fingers to his neck while looking at a clock on the wall. 

“Do you need a doctor?” 

Peter shakes his head. “It’s just a stomach flu.” He meets Tony’s eyes and shrinks under the sharp gaze. “I can clean that,” he starts, motioning toward the mess on the carpet. “I’ll clean it then leave so I don’t get anyone else sick. I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. I thought-”

“Hush,” Tony interrupts with a sigh. “I’m not going to make you clean that up with that fever you’ve got. Plus, you’re shaking. You would just end up making a bigger mess.”  

Peter looks to his hands. He’s trembling hard from a mix of nerves, crashing adrenaline, and sudden chills brought on by his fever. He feels exhausted, and he wishes he had a time machine to rewind back to the morning so he could have told Happy he can’t go out because he’s sick. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, feeling uncomfortable against the weight of Tony’s unreadable gaze. 

“I’ll walk you down to medic so you can rest for a bit.” 

“That’s not,” Peter starts suddenly, unsure of where he’s going with his words. “It’s okay. I can call an Uber, so you can go back to the meeting.” 

Tony starts toward the door while thumbing away at his phone. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just insult my hospitality. Now, let’s go.” He pauses, looking over his shoulder. “Can you walk? Should I call for a wheel chair?” 

Peter shakes his head and scrambles out of the chair after Tony. He’s a little unsteady on his feet thanks to his buckling knees, but he manages to keep up well enough. “Are you going to cut me out of the bank robbery mission?” 

Tony shrugs while nodding toward a group of custodians headed toward the conference room. “Are you going to stop ignoring your health in favor of coming at my beck and call?” 

Peter thinks about this for a long moment. “No,” he answers honestly, and Tony breathes out a light laugh. 

“I’m not surprised.” 

[toosicktoocare]

Sick Days 3.0 #23

23: Not the Norm Your character isn’t doing too well, but it’s not because of the normal culprits. Basically, all illnesses/ailments here should be non-bacterial, non-viral, and non-fungal! Suggestions: Motion sickness, psychosomatic, response to pain, response to a stimulus in their environment (a smell, a taste), overeating, over drinking, hangover, migraine, hypothermia, heat exhaustion, heat stroke.

[Fandom: Spider-Man: Homecoming] 

In hindsight, Peter should have known that diving into an icy river to intercept an enemy with a sneak attack was a bad idea, but at the time, he was more than thrilled with his quick thinking as he dove into the river. He hadn’t planned on the villain getting away, nor had he planned on his suit’s heating abilities to malfunction. To be frank, he just hadn’t planned. He had gotten sucked into the heat of battle with the want to impress the city as his driving force, and now he’s left a drenched mess as he walks along a hidden path with no clear direction in mind.

Well, walking wouldn’t be the correct word because his shivering has his muscles screaming in protest. He’s more or less stumbling along a dark path framed by trees. There’s a brief thought that he should be worried; the enemy did escape after all, but he’s centering his concern on not dying of hypothermia. He knows the signs and symptoms, one of the many perks of his useful brain, so he’s holding onto the small hope that he’s sort of okay because he’s still shivering, but warming up soon would honestly be in his best interest if he wants to wake up tomorrow and continue being a hero.

However, hope is becoming a fleeting thought lost against a slowing mind as he continues forward with shaking, staggering steps. His body feels heavy, like anchors are tied to his feet and threatening to pull him through the frozen ground and out of existence. His thoughts are a jumbled mess, but he still catches onto a fading tip and presses two icy fingers to the inside of his wrist. His pulse is a weak thump against his fingertips, and his initial reaction is to curse, but his words come out in a slow slur as if he’s had one too many to drink. 

It’s hard, but he manages to pick up his pace despite his limbs moving similar to a newborn deer. But suddenly, like a beacon of light bursting through a clutter of dark, storm clouds, he spots a light, not just any light either. It’s a massive light that extends high above the trees, and he stumbles toward it. 

After two minutes, he reaches an empty highway that looks strangely familiar to his tired eyes, and one slow drag of his gaze shows the highway leading toward the light. He follows it, stumbling along the paved road for what feels like years, but finally, the road shifts and narrows, and next thing his mind can process, he’s stumbling toward a large gate with a curved A across the front. 

On the gate is a small panel with a button, and he presses it with a shaking finger and waits for an answer. 

“You’re a long way from home, Parker.”

“H-Happy?” Peter asks weakly before giving in to his bucking knees. His finger slides off button as he collapses to the ground. He can hardly keep his eyes open, and though he’s faintly aware that sleeping equals danger, he cannot physically keep his eyes from drooping closed. He can faintly hear the gate squeaking open, and then everything goes black. 

*****

“Should we make a rule that you aren’t allowed to chase danger alone? Do I need to assign you a babysitter?” 

Tony Stark’s voice is not the first thing Peter expects to hear when waking up, and he tugs at broken memories for an answer as to why Tony Stark is here. But, his mind is too cut and jagged. He remembers fighting, then water, and after that, everything is just cold, too cold. 

“I had it handled,” he rasps out, voice weak and cracking and sounding so foreign to his ears. 

“So that’s why you showed up at our doorstep toeing death? Definitely seems like you had it handled.” 

Peter frowns at Tony’s words, and he rolls his head to the side until he can see the older man eased in a chair pulled at his bedside. “What? toeing death?” 

“Have you ever heard of hypothermia?” 

Oh, Peter thinks as he drags his gaze back to the ceiling. That one word glues the broken pieces of his mind together, and the previous night’s events come back like a bucket of ice water to his face. He shivers and burrows deeper under the covers. “There may have been a slight blip in my plan.” 

“You call diving into a river in the middle of winter ‘a slight blip?’”

“I wasn’t anticipating on my suit to malfunction,” Peter fires back weakly, and Tony sighs loudly at this. 

“Well, it won’t be malfunctioning again anytime soon.” 

Peter ignores his aching muscles in favor of shooting up into a sitting position with sharp gasp. “You are taking it away from me?” His words are frantic, and his voice holds a small tremor. 

“Easy, kid. You’ll get it back once we finish adjusting it. For now, we need to set rules.” 

Peter frowns. “If heroes had rules, we wouldn’t get anything done.” 

“You want me to keep this suit forever?” 

Peter drops back against the pillows with a narrow gaze but doesn’t argue further. He rolls his eyes when Tony starts ticking off ground rules. 

“Number one: Use the Buddy System. Take that Ted friend with you if you have to; I don’t care. You are no longer allowed to go anywhere alone...”

[fluffyllamas-23]

Water

Day…something prompt for sickdays: Whatever happens to your character should be caused by water, or perhaps a lack thereof. 

“Shit! Get him out!”

“Off the ice, NOW.”

Lance, Shiro and Keith had been crossing the frozen pond, where Hunk and Pidge were waiting on the other side.  Keith and Shiro were a ways ahead of him when Lance heard the ice cracking beneath his feet.  He felt a brief moment of panic before he fell through it.  His thick coat was dragging him down, and he struggled with it; then, he felt himself being pushed up, out of the icy, frigid water.  Shiro had jumped in the water after him and had him out in an instant.  Shiro got himself out as well, and then practically dragged Lance off the ice.

“Sh-shit.” Lance spluttered, collapsing onto the snow.   “Are you okay?!” Keith panicked, dropping to his knees beside Lance as he coughed out the water he had swallowed.   Shiro was shivering violently, his teeth chattering.  “L-Lance-” “-SHIT!” Keith hissed, looking between the two of them. “What do I do? “C-call a-an a-ambulance?” Shiro suggested. 

Keith shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around Lance’s shoulders.   “Yeah, okay.  I’m sorry, I don’t have anything that will fit you.” “It’s f-fine.”

He shot a quick text to Hunk and Pidge, telling them to get the hell out here before he dialed 9-1-1.

“What happened?!” Pidge cried, running outside with Hunk.  Lance and Shiro were sitting on the ground, huddled together as they shivered.  

Hunk draped his jacket around Shiro, and crouched in front of them.  

“They fell in the water.” Keith answered after hanging up.  “Through the ice.” “Fuck.” Hunk hissed.  

the ambulance came fairly quickly, and soon enough, Shiro and Lance were loaded up in the back underneath some blankets.

Lance shivered, pulling the blankets tighter around himself. “Thanks f-for s-saving me.” Shiro just nodded, his eyelids drooping in exhaustion.

*

Later that evening, Lance and Shiro were on the couch in their apartment.  Shiro was sitting up, his knees drawn to his chest a blanket pulled up to his shoulders.  Lance was lying down, wrapped in a thick blanket; neither of them were feeling well, which the ER docs had warned them would happen.  Keith had just been hoping that they were lying.  

Lance had been given antibiotics, because he had inhaled water, and the docs were worried that he’d develop pneumonia.  He had been coughing miserably, almost non-stop for the last two hours and was shivering under the blankets.

“What do you want to watch?” Lance croaked out, his voice having gone hoarse from the amount of coughing he’d done. “I don’t know.” Shiro mumbled tiredly.  “You okay?” Lance groaned. “I feel like shit.” “You’ve got a fever.” Keith said, pressing his hand to Lance’s forehead. He pressed his other hand to Shiro’s forehead as well, and sighed in relief.  “You don’t, thank God.”

Lance went into another coughing fit.  His lungs were seizing and sounded like they were trying to claw their way out of his chest.  

Panic bubbled in Keith’s chest, but all he could say was: “that sounds bad.”

Lance shot him a glare, as if to say ‘no shit, sherlock.’

Keith felt helpless.  

“Get him some f…heh….hh’itschGNX! *Snff* nngh…get him some fever reducers.” Shiro said, still sniffling. “You should go find the thermometer, too.” “Bless you.  Yeah, okay.”

Shiro slouched down so that he was lying down instead of sitting up.  He was exhausted - his eyes were burning and felt heavy.  All he wanted to do was sleep whatever this was off.  

He was starting to feel congested, and he just hoped that it didn’t get any worse.

“Okay, I’m back.” Keith said, slightly out of breath.  He walked over to Lance and crouched in front of him. As soon as Lance finished his latest coughing fit, Keith waved the thermometer in front of him.  “Open your mouth.”

Keith stuck it in his mouth, and then took out two pills from the bottle, and then waited for it to beep.   Lance’s breath caught in his throat, and when Keith finally removed the thermometer, he  went into a spluttering coughing fit.  

“One oh three.  Shit. Here, take these.”

*

When Shiro woke up, his sinuses were completely blocked and throbbing. His entire body felt achey and heavy, and he just felt shitty.

Shiro forced himself out of bed and stumbled out into the living area.

“Morning!” Keith greeted him.  “How are you feeling?” “Umb…shitty.” He croaked. Keith quirked a brow. “You sound awful.”   Shiro slumped into one of the chairs.  “Where’s Landce?” “In bed. He finally fell asleep about four hours ago, I hope he stays asleep.” Keith sighed.  Shiro flopped forward, resting his head in his folded arms.  He felt a cool hand on the back of his neck.  “You have a fever, Shiro.”

His head felt so heavy.

They heard coughing coming from Lance’s room, and then he was trudging to the table.

“Why are you awake?” Keith demanded. “I woke up coughing.” Lance croaked.  His voice was virtually gone, his throat was torn up from all of the coughing “I think it’s about time for your antibiotics anyways.  How are you feeling?” Keith asked, grabbing his bottle of pills. Lance just slumped into the seat next to Shiro.  “Nnnngh…I’m exhausted.”   “Yeah, you didn’t sleep for long.” Shiro sniffled, and Lance looked over at him. “How are you doing, dude?” “Ndot great…I thingk I have andother sindus indfectiond.” “Do you need me to take you to the doctor?” Shiro shook his head, and then groaned as it caused an increase of pain in his head.  “Ndo…there’s ndothindg they cand do for it.” “You should lie down at least.” Keith suggested. 
Shiro nodded, and pushed himself up.  “I’mb goindg back to bed. Feel better, Landce.” “Thanks.” He rasped. “You too.”

Shiro disappeared into his room, climbed into bed and willed himself to fall asleep, hoping he’d feel better when he woke up.

[mypoorfaves]

Water and Warmth

For Sickdays 3.0 day 5, Water

Summary: Yuuri wakes up exhausted and heads to take a shower in the hopes it will help wake him up. But things take a turn for the worse when it turns out Yuuri isn’t just tired, but coming down with a cold. Now Victor has to take care of Yuuri who feels like he’s freezing despite the fever he’s running.

Warnings: dizziness and passing out

1600~ words

～～～

The bathroom is filled with steam, but Yuuri can’t feel a thing aside from the shivers wracking his body. The hot water rains down from the shower onto his head, drips onto his face and runs down his chest, yet Yuuri feels no warmer than he would if he were standing in a snowstorm.

He turns the water temperature higher, more steam filling the room. He had hoped the heat from taking a shower would wake up his sluggish mind and body, but it doesn’t seem to be working at all. Yuuri can’t even feel the heat, the steam just making his head feel foggy.

Victor had suggested Yuuri take the day off today. Apparently Yuuri had been tossing and turning all night, although he was asleep so he doesn’t know if that was true. It would make sense if it was true, since Yuuri hardly felt rested at all despite going to bed early last night, feeling more exhausted than usual from yesterday’s practice.

As tempting as Victor’s offer was, Yuuri had been determined to make a good impression to his Russian rinkmates and opted not take day off for simply feeling tired. Instead, much to Victor’s displeasure, Yuuri had insisted he was fine, then stumbled off to the luxurious bathroom he and Victor share to take a shower.

It still excites Yuuri to think about that; that he and Victor are living together in the same house, skating at the same rink, sleeping in the same bed, and that they’ll soon be married! Just the very thought makes Yuuri dizzy with excitement!

Except the dizziness starts to feel a lot less like an emotion in his fluttering chest and more like a sensation of his head which now feels light and airy. And the feeling won’t go away.

The warmth Yuuri has been longing for is suddenly tangible all around him in the humid air filling his lungs, making it hard to breathe. The droplets of water from the showerhead are scorching, coating his whole body with what feels like liquid fire. Yuuri braces his hand on the wall, the tile no cooler than anything else in the room, but it’s supporting him and that’s all he needs. His head feels likes it’s full of static.

Yuuri’s vision is clouded, and then it’s like he’s blinded by a bright light. Yuuri shuts his eyes against it, suddenly feeling incredibly weak. He digs his fingers into the wall he’s clinging to, desperate to hold on to the tile and consciousness as well. He’s just about to step out of the shower and call Victor for help, because something is seriously wrong, but Yuuri’s body gives out before he can, then his vision goes black.

Yuuri comes to consciousness slowly, as if in pieces. The first thing he hears is a voice, and after a moment Yuuri recognizes the voice is saying his name. Well, parts of his name. Or maybe his hearing isn’t quite right since it sounds like it’s fading in and out, like the push and pull of the ocean tide.

Yuuri’s eyes are still closed. He wants to see who’s calling him, so he cracks them open. Above him is a blur of silver. Yuuri blinks, willing the image to come into focus. His eyelids feel heavy, but he blinks away that sensation too. The tiredness disappears a bit but the blurry vision remains, so Yuuri squints to try and get a better look at the person leaning over him.

Why are they leaning over him, anyway? Last thing Yuuri remembers, he was standing in the shower. So why is he on the floor?

His brain finally catches up with him and he remembers the sudden dizziness he felt, and remembers the need to try and find Victor. He must have collapsed, he realizes.

“Yuuri?” The voice is finally clear and Yuuri recognizes it at once as belonging to his fiance. His face above Yuuri’s is still unfocused without his glasses, but the silver hair is a dead giveaway.

“Victor,” Yuuri mumbles. He’s suddenly aware of just how weak he feels. He still feels exhaustedーthe shower didn’t help at all, his limbs feel even more heavy than before, and his body is shaking again. He’s being cradled in Victor’s arms on the bathroom floor. The steam in the room has evaporated, making Yuuri wonder how long he’s been unconscious for. The cool air hits his body, still wet from the shower. “Cold,” Yuuri complains. “Want a hot bath.”

“Yuuri, you just passed out! I took your temperature and it’s way too high! That shower did more harm than good. No bath, you’re going to bed right now. And it should go without saying that you will not be attending practice today.”

“B-butー”

“No buts! Come on, back to bed,” Victor says and helps Yuuri stand. Yuuri picks up the towel from the floor and wraps it around his body, more to keep warm than for decency. They head back to the room and Victor leaves to grab some supplies as Yuuri starts to get changed.

Yuuri picks his pajamas up from where he had previously dropped them. He’s just about to put them back on, but thinks better of it. If he really is sick, he would rather put on a fresh set of clothes than one he’s been sweating in all night. He rummages through his dresser, grabs a pair of sweatpants and pulls them on, already relishing in the warmth and comfort of the material.

He’s just in the midst of putting on a sweater, his arms in each of the sleeves, when Victor re-enters the room. “Yuuri! What are you doing?” he instantly reprimands him and hurries over, putting the supplies down. “I said we need to keep you cool to get your fever down!”

“But I’m so c-cold, Victor!” Yuuri whines.

“Your body is tricking you, Yuuri. You’re burning up. Now take that off and put something lighter on.”

Yuuri hangs his head in defeat and he lifts his arms up. They feel heavy, as if made of lead, and Yuuri can’t muster the energy to remove to article of clothing. Without being told, Victor does it for him, pulling the sweater up and over Yuuri’s head before folding it and placing it neatly on top of the dresser.

Yuuri shivers again and rubs his arms to keep warm. He looks at the bed longingly, the plush mattress, the soft pillows, the inviting covers, and imagines the warmth of Victor cuddling up with him. Smiling at the thought, he climbs into the bed without bothering to put on a lighter shirt and instead burrows under the blankets. He gives a sigh of content, already feeling warm from the covers.

Until he doesn’t.

Victor is pulling at the blankets, the material slowly being dragged off of Yuuri’s body which has begun to shake and shiver with chills once again.

“V-Victor!” Yuuri protests and tightens his grip on the blanket. The covers stop sliding off his body, but Yuuri can feel the tension in the blanket that lets him know that Victor hasn’t released his grip. Yuuri doesn’t release his hold either and tries to tug the blanket closer to him with an angry whine.

“Yuuri, let go,” Victor commands, voice sharp and firm.

“Colddd.”

“I know you think that, but this isn’t what your body needs! So let go.”

“No!” Yuuri protests and tugs the blanket back. Victor releases it with a sigh, but it sounds more like a frustrated huff. Satisfied, Yuuri wraps himself up in the blankets, once again quickly feeling the chills fading.

After a moment of silence, Yuuri feels the mattress dip as Victor climbs on the bed and lays down next to Yuuri, snuggling up nice and close. His voice is lighter as he speaks, “How about we get rid of that blanket, and I’ll cuddle you instead?”

Without missing a beat, Yuuri complains, “But I want both.”

“Okay,” Victor says, extracting himself from Yuuri and creating distance between them. “I guess I’ll just be over here then.”

Yuuri pouts, already missing the feel of Victor’s strong and firm arms around him, protecting him from anything and everything. Misses the heat of Victor’s body, much more effective than this thin sheet of cotton at warming him up. And more than anything, he misses the steady reassuring beat of Victor’s heart. Yuuri’s own heart aches as he longs to rest his head against Victor’s chest and fall asleep to the sound.

Yuuri fixes Victor with a begging, watery stare.

“What’s the matter, Yuuri?” Victor asks innocently, and Yuuri’s frown deepens.

“Not playing fair,” Yuuri grumbles as he discards the blankets and tosses it off his body.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Victor says as he scoots closer to Yuuri and once again secures the younger man in a loving embrace. Yuuri melts into it, his bare chest meeting Victor’s clothed one. Even through the thin shirt he can still feel Victor’s warmth and feel his heartbeat as he rests his head under Victors chin. Yuuri’s body gives another shiver, the cool air hitting his exposed back, and Victor wraps his arms tighter around his shaking frame. The shivering subsides and Yuuri closes his eyes and gives a sleepy sigh. “See? Much better than a blanket,” Victor says. Yuuri only has the strength to nod, and with that he falls asleep in Victor’s arms.

～～～ (End)

[mypoorfaves]

Hot Potato Water

Written for Sickdays 3.0 day 7: Snake Oil and Miracle Elixirs

Summary: Victor is sick with a cold and Yuuri makes him some special potato water to help clear his congestion. It works, but when Victor offers to carry the pot of hot water for Yuuri and bring it back to the stove, things don’t go as planned and Victor ends up hurting himself.

This was largely inspired by an amazing fic that @nnatto wrote, so it will make a lot more sense if you read that one first! In fact this can almost be seen as a continuation, but it happens at a later time and Victor is sick instead of Yuuri

(Disclaimer: there’s no fetish!yuuri or fetish!victor here. Just plain old Victor and Yuuri. Although if you squint…)

1600~ words

～～～

At the sound of a voice softly calling his name, Victor stirs from sleep. He comes to consciousness slowly, his head feeling like it’s full of wool. He instantly wishes he wasn’t awake, since he now becomes aware of the heat his body is radiating, his heartbeat painfully amplified in his temples, and more than anything, the uncomfortable congestion is his sinuses.

Yuuri is kneeling in front of the couch where he had fallen asleep. The blanket that had been draped over his shivering frame earlier is now tangled around his feet, kicked off his body as his chills morphed to an uncomfortable heat.

“How are you feeling, Vitya?” Yuuri asks him, and Victor can’t help the weak smile that breaks out across his face. Yuuri’s caring tone paired with the gentle caress of his lips and tongue around the nickname is music to Victor’s ears.

“Better,” he says, but quickly finds that not to be the case as he tries to speak. The words catch in his throat, painfully dry and itchy. He turns away from Yuuri and buries a fit of coughs. “Okay, maybe dot so much.” He winces at the soreness of his throat, cringing at how stuffed up he sounds.

“Well, I have a surprise for you. It’ll make you feel better. I promise,” Yuuri tells him.

Still in the process of waking up, Victor says the first thing that comes to mind: “Dod’t you think we should wait until I’b no longer contagious?”

Confusion dances across Yuuri’s features at his words before understanding dawns on him. He immediately flushes a deep shade of red, looking scandalized.

“Vi-Victor! That’s not what I meant!” Yuuri stammers. “Justーcome to the table. It will be ready soon.” With that, he scurries back into the kitchen, still very visibly flustered.

Victor watches him go with an amused grin; it’s far too easy to tease Yuuri. He pushes himself off the couch, keeping a hand on it for balance as dizziness overtakes his vision for a moment. Once it passes, Victor kicks the tangle of blanket free from his feet and heads for the dining room.

Yuuri is working over a pot on the stove and glances his way as he enters. The embarrassed flush is gone, and Victor already misses it. With a tired sigh, he plops down onto one the chairs and rests his head on the table, his folded arms acting as a makeshift pillow.

“How long ‘till it’s ready?” Victor asks Yuuri, resting his eyes for just a moment.

“Just another minute,” comes Yuuri’s voice from much closer than Victor expected. He opens his eyes and sees Yuuri standing in front of him, a hand finding Victor’s heated forehead. “You still feel quite warm. And you still sound stuffed up. Luckily, I got just the thing to help with that.”

Victor had been so caught up in how miserable he feels, wishing he was unconscious and unaware of his discomfort, that he hadn’t even bothered to ask what the surprise was. He voices his curiosity to Yuuri.

“I tried my hand at a Nikiforov family recipe,” he answers, heading back to the stove. He switches the burner off, grabbing the pot resting on top of it.

Pure affection surges through Victor at the thought that Yuuri decided to cook, a recipe from his family, no less. He wonders what exactly it is that Yuuri has decided to make. Steam is wafting invitingly from the pot, and Victor feels a sudden wave of sadness wash over him at his inability to smell the aroma of whatever is being prepared; no air at all is able to pass through his plugged nose.

At last, the pot is placed on the table in front of Victor. Curious, he peers inside to find…boiled potatoes?

Yuuri drapes a towel over Victor’s head and the man raises his head at the action. “Use this and breathe in. It should help with your congestion,” Yuuri instructs. “It helped with mine when I was sick.”

As per Yuuri’s instructions, Victor arranges the towel over his head, allowing the steam to be contained by the makeshift tent. After just a minute, he can already feel it working; the congestion is loosening. Victor’s nose has begun to run and he sniffles, grateful that he can actually do so. It’s then that a thought crosses his mind.

“Hey, Yuuri, didn’t you say this was a Nikiforov family re…ehhh?…reciIHHH…recipー” Victor begins to ask, his voice hitching on the final word. Yuuri is right there to offer a tissue, and Victor snatches it from him, quickly catching the sneeze. Two more come after it, just as forceful and productive as the first. Yuuri hands him an extra couple of tissue and Victor accepts them gratefully.

He blows his nose, cringing at the sound and shuddering at the vibration, then bunches the tissue and creates a makeshift discard pile on the table. Yuuri is standing beside him, holding the box of tissues with one hand and rubbing Victor’s back with the other as he continues to lean over the pot.

After many more minutes and many, many, more sneezes, Victor’s nose is no longer congested and he can finally breathe again. There’s a large pile of used tissues on the table, the box Yuuri has been holding visibly depleted. Victor slumps back into his chair with a sigh of relief, the towel falling off his head and draping around his neck.

“All done?” Yuuri asks.

Victor nods. “Thank you, Yuuri. I do feel much better.”

Yuuri smiles and begins to move to take the pot of water back, still hot and steaming. Victor stands up, placing a hand over Yuuri’s as he reaches for the handles. “Let me. You’ve already done so much to look after me. It’s the least I can do,” Victor insists. He takes the pot and Yuuri lets him.

He’s halfway between the table and the stove when he is caught off guard by a sudden and sharp sensation in his nose. It builds in an instant and rushes out of him in the next. He closes his eyes and turns his head to try and catch the sneeze in his elbow. He has no time to think about the fact that his hand are full.

His body jerks forward onceーHHHNK’shh!!ーand then againーEHH’shhksh!!ーand he’s about to release a third sneeze when he feels a hot and searing pain on his feet. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it as he again braces himself for the next fit. His grip on the handles is turning his knuckles white. Suddenly the pot is pulled rather forcefully from his hands. Yuuri has taken the water from him, and this time Victor manages to successfully catch the next sneeze in the crook of his elbow.

“Are you alright, Victor?” Yuuri asks, very concerned. The pot has been placed on the stove, and Yuuri is scanning his features with a serious intensity for any sign that something is wrong.

Victor is breathing heavily by the time his fit is over, as if he has just attempted 10 quad flips in a row. Victor nods in response to Yuuri’s question, still struggling to catch his breath. But at least he can breathe through his nose again. The hot water really did wonders.

Speaking of hot water, it’s then that Victor remembers he got some on his feet. It doesn’t hurt too bad, but the pain is definitely still there. He looks down to examine the damage, finding nothing visible to the eye other than the usual abuse that comes with the sport he and Yuuri dedicate themselves to.

Yuuri notices Victor’s gaze and follows it. “You spilled hot water on your feet. We need to treat you for burns,” Yuuri insists, voice leaving no room for arguments.

“It really doesn’t hurt too bad,” Victor tries to downplay his injury, even despite Yuuri’s stern motherly tone. The pain isn’t terrible. His feet have hurt worse after many a day of training. Once he dries his feet and applies an ice pack, he’s sure it will fade.

Not convinced, Yuuri takes Victor’s hand and leads him away from the kitchen, leaving wet footprints behind them. “I’ll draw a bath of cool water. Your feet are already damaged as they are. We can’t have them being burned on top of that.”

Victor can’t find a good enough reason to argue. Plus, the cool water sounds nice; his body still feels uncomfortably warm from his fever.

He let’s Yuuri draw a bath, filled about a quarter full with water that’s not too cold but still feels amazing on his tender feet nonetheless. Yuuri sits right next to Victor, both of them on the side of the tub, and Victor lazily lets his head fall on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you,” Yuuri apologizes, guilt weighing heavily in his small voice.

“It’s alright, Yuuri. It’s not your fault, and the pain is not that bad. I’ve had a lot worse,” Victor reassures him, brushing his foot against Yuuri’s in the cool water. “Plus, your potato water helped clear my congestion.”

“You really mean that?” Yuuri asks. “It was good?”

“Mm,” Victor hums, exhaustion beginning to creep back in. “It was a lovely surprise.”

“I was worried I added too much hot sauce or something. I couldn’t exactly find a written recipe.”

Victor shakes his head, still resting on Yuuri’s shoulder. “It was perfect. My Yuuri is so good to me,” he says, hand migrating toward Yuuri’s to give it a gentle squeeze.

As if to prove his point, Yuuri places a kiss of the top of Victor’s head. Affectionate warmth floods through Victor’s body, and he feels it even down to his burned toes, the pain that was there already long gone.

～～～

(End)

Notes: I do not indulge in sneeze like a lot of you do, so I enlisted the help of @nnatto for such related content. Any stuffy talk, hitching and of course sneezing was all written by her.

[mypoorfaves]

Hiding it Doesn't Help

Written for sickdays 3.0, day one: not the norm

Summary: The Chugoku, Shikoku, and Kyushu Competition is drawing ever-closer, and Yuuri is desperate to perfect his routine. Stressed about his first competition since bombing Nationals, Yuuri is skating through practice even despite a migraine and hides the fact from Victor.

1200~ words

～～～

“Again, Yuuri.”

Victor’s voice is sharp and commanding and it drills into Yuuri’s pounding head. He’s had a headache ever since he flung himself out of bed, out the door and ran the whole way to rink, late for practice once again. He figured the pain was just from the effort of his run, but nowーconsidering the intensity and how it’s only gotten worse, not betterーYuuri has a feeling it’s a migraine. Likely from the stress of his first competition drawing ever closer.

He needs to be perfect.

With a grunt, and with much protest from his throbbing head, Yuuri pushes himself off the ice from his failed jump and stands, then skates again.

His migraine is hindering his performance. Yuuri can tell, and he knows Victor can tell as well. It’s clearly written on Victor’s face, his expression one of disapproval mixed with a hint of concern as he watches Yuuri. His mouth is set in a thin line, like he wants to make a comment, but is worried it will upset the young skater. He has a slender finger brought to his lip, a quirk Yuuri notices him doing whenever he’s thinking hard about something.

Pushing the thoughts out of his mind along with the pain, Yuuri continues to skate. He’s throws as much enthusiasm and effort as he can into the performance, trying to replace thoughts about his splitting headache with thoughts about where his feet should go. It doesn’t work well, as one brings about the other; every twirl, every jump sends new waves of agony to his skull that make focusing on anything else near-impossible.

It’s in the midst of his step sequence for Eros when Yuuri misplaces his foot. It’s a small misplacement, and he quickly continues with the rest of his steps, but Yuuri can’t help the wave of disappointment that washes over him. His step sequences are one of his best attributes as a skater, as are his spins that Yuuri can also tell are not as polished as usual. Being unable to perform well even that which he is best at brings about a bitter sense of inadequacy, even on an off day like today.

Sure enough, it’s right in the middle of a spin that Victor finally calls out Yuuri’s name and orders him to stop. Yuuri comes out of the spin, the world still spinning around him and a bit of nausea swirling in his stomach as well, but it quickly fades. He stands in place, breathing heavily as his head continues to pulse. He resists the urge to cradle it in his hand, instead obediently skating over to the rinkside where Victor is waiting for him. Dread is a dead weight in Yuuri’s stomach as he anticipates the lecture he’s surely about to receive.

“You aren’t skating as well as you usually do,” Victor says, and Yuuri feels his face heat up in shame. Even after skating all these years and being constantly critiqued and corrected, being scrutinized by Victor Nikiforov still takes getting used to.

Yuuri nods at the criticism, the action sending pain zig-zagging through his temple, but he hides it well. “I know,” he mutters. All he wants to do is get back to skating. The competition is coming up soonーtoo soonーand Yuuri needs to make sure his routine is perfect by then. He won’t let this be a repeat of last year. He needs to be better. “I’ll do better. Just let me do it again.”

“Your beautiful steps and spins are even off. I’m worried about you, Yuuri,” Victor says, and there’s so much sincerity in his voice that Yuuri feels his cheeks heat up all over again, but this time it’s not from shame. “I think you should take a break,” Victor suggests.

“I want to keep practicing,” Yuuri says firmly. “I have to keep practicing for the competition.”

“Take a sip of water at least.”

At this, Yuuri glances up at Victor, his gaze previously aimed at his skates. There’s evident concern written all over his features that Yuuri cannot ignore, care contained within crystal blue eyes. Yuuri accepts the water bottle Victor offers him with the logic that it would likely help with his headache too. He swallows a mouthful of water, hands the bottle back, then pushes off the wall to start skating again.

Yuuri knows he’s thinking too much. He’s putting too much thought into which foot goes where, what edge of the blade he’s skating on and landing on, the alignment of all of his limbs instead of simply letting his muscle memory take over. Given the fact, it’s no surprise when Yuuri takes to the air only to come crashing down, miserably failing his jump.

He topples hard onto the ice, landing on his right knee first followed by his elbow then his hip. It hurts, but he’s used to the bruises. What he’s less accustomed to is the way the impact jars his head and further worsens the agonizing pounding, causing Yuuri to cry out as he collapses on the ice. Despite not hitting his head on anything, the pain is excruciating like nothing he’s ever felt before, taking over all of his senses. He lets himself lay there on the cool surface. It feels wonderful, a blissful contrast to his cheeks burning hot from exertion. The cold seeps into his fingers and acts as an ice pack to his newly acquired bruises.

He’s so lost in the sensation that he doesn’t even notice Victor approaching him until he’s on the ice kneeling next to Yuuri with even greater concern that before creasing his features. “Yuuri? Yuuri, are you hurt? Answer me!”

Yuuri’s head throbs with a vengeance at the volume of Victor’s voice and he squeezes his eyes shut with a moan. ”Head hurts,” he complains with another noise of pain.

“Did you hit your head? You might have a concussion if that’s the case,” Victor says.

“I didn’t hit my head, I just have a migraine,” Yuuri tells him. “I have since this morning,” he admits in a more shy and quiet tone, knowing Victor will surely lecture him for hiding such a thing from his coach.

Victor heaves a sighーwhether of relief or annoyance, Yuuri cannot tellーand asks, ”Can you stand?”

“Nothing is severely injured, but my head’s killing me.” Yuuri pushes himself up to his elbows, wincing at the pain of the new bruises. “Can you help me up?” he asks sheepishly.

Victor extends a gloved hand and Yuuri grasps it, standing as Victor does. Victor doesn’t let go even once they’re standing and Yuuri is grateful, since the change in altitude makes Yuuri’s head spin again as dizziness pulls at his senses. Victor keep him upright, bringing an arm around his back for extra support. “I would scold you about keeping something like this to yourself and not bothering to tell me, but I think I’ll save the lecture for when you’re feeling better,” Victor says with a tinge of bitterness that makes Yuuri shrink with shame.

He’s lead to the benches where Victor sits him down and hands him the bottle of water again. Yuuri accept it numbly and takes a sip, not wanting to drink anymore than that in case the slight discomfort in his stomach shifts into something more.

“I’m going to ask Yuuko to drive us home. Stay here, and maybe lay down if that helps,” he offers, and with that he leaves for the main lobby. Taking Victor’s advice, Yuuri lays his head down on the cool surface of the bench. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, willing the pulsing pain to fade as he waits for Victor to return.

～～～

(End)

[toosicktoocare]

Sick Days 3.0: #27

27: Water Whatever happens to your character should be caused by water, or perhaps a lack thereof. Suggestions: Dehydration, overhydration, drowning, eating before going swimming, seasickness, sweating, getting caught in the rain, trying to stay hydrated, something was in the water, a hot shower, a cold bath.

[Fandom: My Ocs Adam and Rocket!]

Adam is half-way through his walk back from class when a loud crack of thunder echoes across the sky. It’s violent, rumbling the ground at his feet, and he spares one quick glance up toward the dark sky just as the sky pulls open and sheets of rain come falling down, soaking him instantly. His clothes gain pounds and hang heavy on his slender frame, and his bangs stick uncomfortably to his forehead. Each drop of rain feels like a blast of ice across his skin, and he’s shivering hard within seconds. He wraps trembling arms around himself and picks up the pace in a stumbling attempt to shorten the remaining distance to he and Rocket’s shared apartment. 

If anything, it takes him longer to get to the apartment. The rain is heavy enough to lessen the distance for visibility, so he’s forced to walk slowly with one arm held out in front of his face. Rain drops cling to his glasses, further altering his ability to see, and by the time he makes it to the apartment twenty minutes later, he’s positively miserable.

He climbs the stairs slowly, gripping the banister to keep himself from falling against trembling legs, and when he reaches the door, he twists the knob and steps into the familiar setting of low music competing with the sound of the TV. He drops his bag on the floor, not caring for once that he’s leaving it there as he shuffles miserably into the small living room. 

“Hey, Adam. How was...” Rocket’s words trail off at the sight of his boyfriend, and he’s on his feet and crossing the room toward him in seconds. He spares one glance out at the window before leaning down slightly to meet Adam’s gaze. “Hey,” he repeats, voice uncharacteristically soft and serious. He cups a large hand to Adam’s pale cheek and frowns at the icy skin pressed against his warm palm. “You’re freezing.” 

Adam can’t form words around his trembling lips, so he only nods and allows Rocket to gently lead him to the bathroom. Rocket is incredibly gentle as he helps Adam strip of his soaking wet clothes, and he’s thorough when he rubs a towel all across Adam’s pink, chilled skin. 

Adam keeps quiet; he’s way over this day and just wants to curl up in bed and sleep. When Rocket finishes drying him, he takes the warm clothes Rocket offers him before leaving to make hot tea and slips them on, but even now dry with dry clothes on, he still feels properly chilled through. He exits the bathroom and snags one of Rocket’s baseball hoodies and slips it on, ignoring how it hangs to his knees and way past his hands as he shuffles back into the living room. 

The couch is still faintly warm from where Rocket had been sitting, and Adam snuggles into it just as Rocket comes back in with a steaming mug of tea. Rocket eases himself down beside Adam and offers the tea before draping a strong arm around Adam’s shoulders and pulling the smaller boy to his side. 

“I’m sorry you got caught in the rain.” 

Adam hums in response and leans into Rocket’s warmth as he sips lightly at his tea. 

*****

Rocket wakes when his hand falls flat on the opposite side of the bed. His eyes snap open, and he smooths his hands over the cool sheets missing a tiny red-head. He’s out of bed and on his feet in seconds, but it doesn’t take long. As soon as he steps out of the bedroom, he hears a rather rough sneezing fit followed by a few weak coughs coming from the living room. 

With a sigh, he stalks into the living room and flicks a light on. “Adam,” he says, voice tired, as he crosses around to the front of the couch to see Adam curled into a miserable, shivering ball with flushed cheeks and sweat-slick skin. The brief twinge of annoyance he’s holding at Adam’s stubbornness gives way to concern, and he crouches down and brushes a steady palm to Adam’s forehead. 

“Adam,” he tries again, frowning at the heat that coats his palm. 

Adam slowly opens his eyes, blinking against the light to let his vision adjust. When he spots, Rocket, his mind snaps awake, and he swats Rocket’s and away. “Rocket,” he warns, voice gravely and thick with congestion. 

Rocket holds both hands up in surrender and backs away from the couch until he’s a safe distance away. “Why are you out here?” He asks even though he knows the answer. 

“Don’t want to get you sick,” Adam mutters around a weak cough. He shivers and tugs the small throw blanket tighter around his trembling frame. 

Rocket sighs deeply. “Adam, you know I won’t catch this. Come back to bed; it’s warmer in there.” 

“No.” 

“Then take the bed, and I’ll take the couch.” 

“You’re too tall. It wouldn’t be comfortable for you.” 

Rocket rakes rough fingers through his long hair. “Adam-”

“I’m staying here, Rocket. And, that’s final.” Adam snaps before pressing the blanket to his mouth to bark out a series of harsh coughs. 

Rocket wordlessly walks back to the bedroom, flicking the living room lights off as he passes the switch, and closes the door, but he doesn’t go to sleep. He can’t, not with the worry for Adam spiking across his veins. He waits thirty minutes, pacing the small length of the bedroom all the while, then gathers up the comforter on their bed and creeps back toward the living room. 

Adam looks to be in a deep, feverish sleep that tugs at Rocket’s heart. Rocket drapes the comforter carefully over Adam as to not wake the boy then crosses the room and slides down against a wall facing the couch. He draws his knees to his chest then drapes his arms over them and just watches Adam sleep. 

He hates how stubborn Adam gets when sick; Adam knows that Rocket rarely gets sick, but the smaller boy still insists on isolating himself every time he gets sick. It frustrates Rocket to no end, but there’s not a lot he can do without causing a fight. 

So for now, he will sit against the wall and silently watch over Adam, serving as a grounded presence if needed. 

[fluffyllamas-23]

Anywhere but here!…Too late

It’s day two of sickdays guys! Not sure I exactly followed the prompt, but whatever lol. There’s mention of vomit, so warning. This is my warning.

Prompt: Your character is sick or hurt, and this is neither the time nor the place to be dealing with it. And something happens that causes a big scene and/or a big mess. Stipulations are that the setting must be somewhere that it would be really bad and very inconvenient to get sick/hurt, and your character CANNOT leave to deal with it in private.

Shiro stumbled around the kitchen at seven AM, in search of meds, achey and heavy on his feet.  

He had mentioned to Allura that he thought he might be coming down with something.  He typically went to bed close to midnight, but she had convinced him to go to bed much earlier than usual.  Not that it even took much convincing, he was strangely tired, and bed had been the only thing on his mind all day.

He hoped he wasn’t getting sick, and that it was a fluke thing. Unfortunately, he had woken up after only a few hours, his head pounding.  He only felt worse as he laid there, trying to fall back asleep.  Normally, he would have been tossing and turning, except Allura was fast asleep and snuggled into his side and he didn’t want to wake her. 

By morning, he was feverish and congested and felt miserable.  Of course, as life goes, he had gotten sick at the absolute worst fucking time.  Shiro was a lawyer, and had the biggest presentation of his career, in front of his bosses.  If he nailed it, Pidge and Hunk would (finally) make him partner.  If he bombed it, it would be years before he was given another chance.  

He didn’t hear Allura enter the kitchen, too distracted by his symptoms.

“Shiro, are you alright?” She asked softly, walking over to him, her eyes bleary with sleep. “Yeah.” He croaked, grimacing at how badly his throat hurt. “You sound terrible.” She frowned, standing on her tiptoes to press her palm to his forehead. “I’m fine.” He said, batting her hand away.   “You have a fever.” “What? Who has a fever?” Lance asked, walking into the kitchen. “No one.” Shiro said, at the same time Allura answered, “Shiro.” He shot her a dirty look, but she just chuckled.  “What?” “How could you just sell me out? I thought you loved me.” She hip bumped him, and then kissed his cheek.  “I do love you, and I did not sell you out.” “Gross, get a room, guys.” Keith said, walking into the kitchen as well.   Shiro coughed into the crook of his elbow, and then croaked, “Shove it, Keith.”
“That sounds really bad.” Allura winced. “It’s fine, dear.” He rasped. “Is Shiro dying? I think he’s dying.” Lance said, quirking a brow. “I think so too.  Just try to keep your germs to yourself, I don’t want fucking pneumonia.” Keith said, shoving his keys and wallet in his pocket.  “I’m out.  See you guys later.” “Have fun at work, Keithy-poo.” Lance cooed, wiggling his fingers at him. He began cackling as Keith flushed and shot him a dirty look. “Go sit down.” Allura said, pointing to the couch.  “You shouldn’t be up with a fever like that. You should call out of work, you look miserable.” Shiro cleared his throat. “I can’t. I have that presentation today.” “Oh shit.  I thought that was tomorrow.” He shook his head, which succeeded in exacerbating how dizzy and lightheaded he was.  He sunk to the floor, bracing himself as he waited for the dizziness to pass.  

Allura crouched beside him, putting a hand between his shoulder blades.  “You really need to be lying down, love.” He sniffled.  “Heh…heh’nngCHT! *Snff*” “Bless you.” She frowned. “Can you stand up? I want to get you some medicine.”

It was smack dab in the middle of his presentation when the nausea hit.  It wasn’t just a queasy feeling he could ignore easily, either.  He had broken out into a cold sweat, and he could feel the sweat gathering on his forehead, and sliding down his back. He could tell he was about a minute away from losing what little Allura had gotten him to choke down this morning.

He paused, putting a hand on his stomach.

Not now.  Not now. Not now.

There was no way for him to escape either. He tried to keep his expression neutral, as to not tip off Pidge or Hunk.

“Shiro, are you alright?” Pidge asked, furrowing her brow. He had paled considerably, and was trembling slightly. He swallowed harshly. “Y-yeah.” “Do you need to sit down?” Hunk asked. Shiro shook his head, stumbled to the trash can in the corner of the room, bent over, and promptly emptied his stomach.  After a few moments, he straightened, and put the bin outside of the room.  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and walked back to the front of the room.  He was still nauseous, but not nearly as bad, which he could deal with.  

“Shiro-” “-Should we get back to it?” He rasped.  “Sorry about that.” As soon as Shiro finished the presentation, Pidge and Hunk sent him home with strict instructions to rest and get better.

The nausea, dizziness and exhaustion were too overwhelming, and Shiro didn’t trust himself behind the wheel of his car.  He had no doubt that he would end up crashing if he tried to make it home himself.  The moment he stepped outside his office building, he staggered to the nearest bench, and all but collapsed onto it. The only solution he could think of was to call his girlfriend and ask her to pick him up.  As he waited for her to pick up her phone, he placed it on speaker, and then rolled over so he was lying on his stomach with his arm hanging over the edge.  

Allura answered quickly.  “How was the presentation?” “It went well,” He rasped, “considering.” “You sound awful.  What do you mean ‘considering’?” He muffled a coughing fit into his hand.  “I’m really nauseous.” There was a beat, and then, “You didn’t throw up, did you?” “I might have.” He mumbled. “Oh, Shiro.” She breathed.  “Are you okay?’ “I um…I really don’t feel well…can you come get me?” “I’ll leave right now. Are you inside?” “No…I’m out front.” “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” “Thank you, Princess.” He mumbled, his eyelids drooping.  

He fell asleep at some point, and was awoken by a cool hand on his cheek.  

“Wake up, love.” She said softly, crouching next to him.   He forced his eyes open, staring at her sleepily. “Allura?” She brushed his hair off of his forehead, and then stroked his burning cheek. “Yeah, I’m here. You’re running quite the fever.  Are you ready to go home?” “Yeah.” He nodded, closing his eyes.   She patted his cheek.  “You need to help me, I can’t carry you.” “Yeah…sorry.” He grunted as he pushed himself into a sitting position. She put a hand on his shoulder. “How are you feeling? Are you going to be sick?” “I think I’m okay.”

Allura helped him up, and wrapped her arm around his waist to keep him steady. She placed her free hand on his abdomen

“Let’s get you home, then.”

[sickdaysofficial]

Water

Sickdays 3, Day 5: Water

Fandom: My (@lickstynine’s) OCs

Characters: Kit, Violet, and friends

“Nina, if you ask me to play cards again, I’ll shove the whole deck straight up your arse.” Violet snapped.

Kit snickered into his book, watching the confrontation out of the corner of his eye.

Nina whined. “But I’m booooored.”

“It’s not even a long flight, dude. Take a nap. Watch a movie. Just chill.” Leander chimed in.

“No, I wanna playyyy…”

“Fine! You want to play cards? Here!” Violet thrust her tablet into Nina’s hands. “Play solitaire, download a poker app, I don’t care. Just leave me alone.” With that, Violet put her headphones back in and went back to ignoring her friends.

Nina seemed quite pleased now that she had the tablet, and was content to occupy herself with Angry Birds like it was still 2011. On her other side, Isabella was sound asleep. Leander and Kit were sitting across the aisle, occupying themselves quietly like decent functional adults.

After a while, the fasten your seatbelt sign lit up, and Nina started bouncing with excitement. The second they landed, she hopped up eagerly, waiting for her friends to exit the plane with her. They gathered their luggage and strolled out of the airport, Violet leading the group towards the taxi waiting for them.

Nina chattered inanely with her now-awake sister while Violet and Leander debated the odds of a fight between a t-rex-sized goose and a goose-sized t-rex. Kit was still absorbed in his book, trying to finish his chapter before they reached the port. He slipped a bookmark into the novel as the taxi drew to a halt.

“This is so exciting!” Nina chirped. “I’ve never been to a private island before.”

“If I recall correctly, they’re full of parental neglect and sunburn.” Kit replied.

Nina pouted. “Don’t be such a sourpuss, Ruby! This is gonna be fun!”

Kit eyed the tiny sailboat they were about to take to the island. “Yeah. Fun. That’s the word.” Sarcasm dripped from his words, and his heels dragged against the ground as Violet dragged him onto the boat.

Leander glanced around the boat before choosing a seat to plop down in. Nina and Isabella sat with him; Violet grabbed a seat nearby, wanting to continue her debate with Leander, and Kit sat next to her with a dramatic sigh.

“Relax, it’s really not that far.” She gave his hair a playful tousle. “Don’t stress yourself out.”

“It’s not stress, Vi. It’s intense seasickness.” He grumbled, fixing his hair and shifting in his seat.

Violet huffed, giving him a light-hearted shove. “You just need to relax, hold out a little longer. You’ll find your sea legs if you just have a little more patience.”

“No. No, I won’t. We have this conversation every time, and every time, I’m sick and miserable. I don’t have sea legs. I’m a sea paraplegic.”

Rolling her eyes, Violet mussed his hair again. “If you say so. I think you just like to complain all the time.”

Kit muttered something under his breath, sighing and leaning back in his chair. He tried to ignore the swaying sensation beneath him, and the hot, sticky air clinging to his skin. The longer he sat there, the more he felt like he was slowly melting into the chair - before long, he’d just be a puddle of pasty goo with a pile of red hair floating in it.

The rocking of the boat and the smell of salt triggered recollections of a childhood trip to the same island; Kit recalled being horribly sick, and being snapped at by his father for complaining about it. He had managed to get a spectacular sunburn on the same vacation. Ah, memories…

After what felt like hours, Kit finally peeled himself out of his chair, stretching his legs and wiping the sweat off his brow. “Ugh, how much longer is it to the island?”

“Dude, it’s only been ten minutes.” Leander laughed.

Kit groaned. “Ah, fuck me…”

“Maybe later. I don’t have condoms on me.” Leander winked dramatically at the red-haired boy, and the girls laughed at his gay-ass display.

Kit sighed and rolled his eyes, attempting to distract himself by restarting the t-rex and goose debate. “Look, Lea, I appreciate that t-rexes have very sharp teeth, but a goose that big could just fucking step on the little lizard. Besides, geese are horrifying at their current size.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Violet chimed in.

“He’s got claws, too, though…” Leander countered. He had a lot of faith in his goose-sized dinosaur.

“Claws don’t matter when you’re getting crushed.” Kit argued, “That’s like saying a cat could beat a cow. Who cares if the cat is clawing and biting, that cow is going to curb-stomp it into next week.”

“I told you! I fucking told you!” Violet was perhaps a bit too smug about having gotten Kit on her side.

Leander sighed. “Okay. Okay. Fine. New one. Lion-sized turtle or like ten turtle-sized lions?”

“…shit, that’s hard.” Violet furrowed her brow. “The tiny pack of lions could go after the turtle’s fleshy bits, but what if the turtle hid in its shell?”

“How slow would a turtle like that be?” Kit asked.

“I dunno, like… really slow?” Leander replied.

Kit sighed. “You… you need to think this through more. I can’t debate with you if you don’t know the specifics of your giant turtle anatomy.”

“You guys are so weird…” Nina laughed. “Why would you want a turtle that big?”

“We don’t want one,” Leander explained, “we want to figure out if it would win in a fight against ten small lions.”

Nina blinked in confusion. “Why?”

“Because we’re bored.” Violet replied.

“…weird.” Nina went back to playing Angry Birds on Violet’s tablet.

Before long, Leander and Violet had taken the debate on to dozens of other animals. Kit had been chiming in less and less as they progressed, even though the conversation interested him. He was having trouble focusing enough to argue, and after a while, he got up again to stretch his legs and hopefully clear his head. The humidity was still horrendous, and every breath of soggy, salty air made his sinuses ache and his stomach turn. He sighed, brushing his hair out of his sweat-drenched face and leaning against the edge of the boat as he waited for the island to come into view.

“Hey, Ruby!” Leander called over to the moping redhead. “What do you think? Giant jellyfish, or a bunch of tiny sharks?”

Kit blinked, taking a moment to think before finally asking, “How venomous is the jellyfish?”

“Er… I dunno.”

“Dammit, Leander. I told you, you need to put more thought into these for the arguments to have any value.” Kit shook his head disapprovingly. He had been the head of his debate team back in high school, and he put a lot of detail into his arguments, even the stupid ones.

Leander rolled his eyes. “You take this shit too seriously, man.”

Kit shrugged, busy focusing hopefully on a growing green dot in the distance. “Yeah, probably.” He leaned against the edge of the boat, taking slow breaths and trying to ignore the churning of his stomach. Even when he closed his eyes, his head continued to spin, and he slowly sank down until he was sitting on the deck, leaning against the side of the boat.

“You doing okay over there?” Violet raised an eyebrow in Kit’s direction.

“Yeah, I… I think I’ll live.” Kit wrapped his arms around himself, hoping the turmoil in his gut would calm down once they reached land. In his head, he knew it usually took awhile for his seasickness to settle, but he was hoping nature might be a little less cruel than usual today.

“Just don’t puke all over the boat. Do that shit in the water or something.” Isabella’s tone was sharp and unsympathetic.

“As you wish, your majesty…” Kit huffed, his tone scathingly sarcastic. Though he could normally take a good bit of flack from his friends, he certainly didn’t feel up to being harassed right now, and Isabella was fully aware of that. She just didn’t care. Kit scowled at the back of Isabella’s head as she turned to go back to talking to the others. He didn’t even really care if she liked him, but it was annoying how far out of her way she would go just to be a bitch to him.

As the conversation started to fizzle out, the tiny green speck had grown to a significant mass on the horizon, and the others were now drawing towards the bow of the boat to get a glimpse of the island as they approached.

“Whoa…” Nina marveled, “Look at all the plants and stuff… It looks like a movie or something…”

“I bet they’ve filmed movies here.” Leander mused, “I swear I’ve seen that palm tree in about a thousand flicks…” He jokingly gestured to a very generic-looking palm now visible on the shore of the island.

Nina giggled and leaned against him as they watched the sandy edge of the island draw closer. Before long, the boat stopped against a small dock and the group climbed off, eager to explore. Kit was the last to depart, slowly dragging himself and his suitcase out of the boat. He was unsteady on his feet, and his face was completely devoid of colour. Leander grabbed Kit’s bag since it looked pretty close to being dropped.

“You doing okay, man? You look rough…”

Kit shook his head, shuffling slowly towards the beach with the others. “No, I feel awful… I think I might be sick…”

Violet sighed, putting an arm around his shoulders for support. “You’ll be alright. Just try and breathe.”

He shook his head, clamping one hand over his mouth while the other clutched at his stomach. “No, I’m definitely going to throw up.”

“Shite, alright, ah… Away from the bags.” Violet carefully steered him away from the group a bit, knowing vomit wouldn’t do any damage to an empty stretch of sand.

Kit’s shoulders lurched with a painful heave and he quickly pulled his hand away from his mouth. A thin stream of bile dripped from his lips, soaking the pale sand. Violet sighed quietly and patted his back. She honestly didn’t want to deal with this right now, but what was she going to do, toss Kit in the ocean and leave?

Another slightly thicker wave of puke added to the puddle on the ground and Kit groaned in discomfort, his arms tightening around his stomach. His legs buckled beneath him and Violet barely managed to catch him before he fell.

“Whoa, careful, there…” She gently lowered him down to his knees, rather than letting him fall face-first into a puddle of his own vomit. Now much more concerned, she gently gathered his hair back, fastening it in a quick messy bun to get it out of his way.

Kit coughed and spit into the sand, taking a few ragged breaths before he doubled over heaving again. Only a few more mouthfuls of sour vomit came up, but he continued to retch for a while after that, his whole abdomen convulsing painfully. When he finally finished, he was trembling with exhaustion and his stomach muscles were aching. A surprisingly attentive and worried-looking Violet helped him to his feet.

“Come on, you should lie down. You need some rest after all that…”

The sun was beaming down on Kit through his bedroom window in the beach house. He slowly sat up in the bed, rubbing his eyes. His body felt drained and achy after last night; his mouth was dry and his stomach was growling. Swinging his legs off the bed, he stood up and looked around. It had been years since he’d spent the summer here, but the house looked the same as ever. He could almost hear his father yelling at his second wife downstairs. He shook his head to clear it, sighing and heading downstairs.

“Ayy! Look who’s finally up!” Leander was sitting at the kitchen table, chowing down on a pile of pancakes.

“Morning, Ruby!” Nina hopped up to give him a big hug. He, of course, hugged her back.

“Good morning, Nina.” Kit gave her a quick squeeze before turning to look at the kitchen counter. “Did you lot leave me any food?”

Violet shook her head. “Nope. You get to starve.”

Kit chuckled and rolled his eyes. “And after I brought you all to my beach house! How rude!”

Isabella jerked her thumb towards the fridge. “There’s more pancake batter. You can make yourself some.” Despite having cooked for everyone else, she had no intent of offering to make Kit breakfast.

“Thanks, Isa.” Kit smiled even though he knew it wouldn’t be reciprocated, walking over to the fridge to pull out the batter. He had to dig through about thirty cabinets and nine drawers to find a pan and spatula, but he eventually got started cooking. He was no master chef, but pancakes were easy as hell to make, and before long, he had piled up a stack of delicious fluffy discs.

“There’s fruit and whipped cream to go on top.” Nina offered, gesturing to the cutting board on the counter, where freshly sliced strawberries, mangoes, and bananas sat in neat little piles.

Kit looked over at the cutting board, noticing the single knife sitting next to it. “Did you cut them all with the same knife?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Because I’m allergic to strawberries, which I’ve told you about a thousand times.” Kit sighed and rolled his eyes, digging around in the cabinets until he found syrup to put on the pancakes instead.

“Right! Damn… I forgot…” Nina frowned.

“It’s not like I remind you every time you make something, and then you bring strawberries anyway. Oh wait. It is.” Kit huffed, sitting down at the table with a pile of syrupy pancakes.

“I’m sorry! I forgot! I really did!”

Kit sighed, “It’s alright. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” He knew Nina had memory issues, so he tried not to hold it against her. He was actually angry with Isabella, who never forgot  anything, but couldn’t ever be bothered to tell Nina not to bring strawberries. He considered confronting Isabella about it, but he didn’t want to start shit right now. Not when he still had a week on an island and a close-quarters plane ride to spend with her. Instead, he just ate his pancakes, asking after a moment, “So what do you lot plan to do today?”

“Probably explore the island, since we’ve never seen it.” Leander replied, “Do you want to come with?”

“I’d rather stay here. The sun and I don’t get along too well.” Kit could vividly recall many painful sunburns from running around the island as a child, and he wasn’t eager to repeat the experience. “I’ll relax here, finish my book.”

“You’re so boooring, Ruby! Come have fun for once.” Nina whined.

“Maybe if the weather is a bit kinder tomorrow. I’ll come out if it’s cloudy. Is that fair?” He offered.

Nina nodded. “Okay! I hope the clouds come out tomorrow.”

“Me, too. Now, go have fun.” Kit waved his friends off with a smile before going over to the refrigerator. He grabbed a lime and a few bottles of liqour, assembling a pitcher of margaritas, which he carried out to the balcony with his novel. He settled into a cushy recliner in the shade, gazing out over the tropical landscape past the balcony.

A cold drink, a good book, and a nice view. This was a vacation. Perhaps his views were a bit skewed, though, as he didn’t considering traveling and vacationing the same thing. Traveling was for exploring, vacation for relaxing. He’d spent plenty of time as of late traveling, and he needed a vacation to just rest and unwind. He was lucky to have the time and finances to waste on travels and vacations. This was the first full week off his friends had had all year, and Violet was only home from her studies for the summer. Kit was spoiled, and well aware of it, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

The sun was fading behind the trees, leaving long shadows and a bright orange glow as the adventure crew returned back to the beach house. They were tired and hungry, but in good spirits and chatting jovially. The front door swung open and Nina called out, “Ruby, we’re back!”

“Oh, good. I was starting to think you’d been killed by malevolent island spirits.” Kit walked out of the kitchen to greet them. He smelled like tequila and garlic butter; he’d been drinking all day, and had just finished roasting a chicken. “I’ve made dinner. Sit yourselves at the table, and I’ll have food out in a moment.”

“Thank god, I’m fucking starved!” Leander hurried to the dining room, Nina and Isabella following closely.

Violet stayed behind to speak with Kit. “Are you doing alright today? You were feeling pretty rough last night.”

“I’m fine, Vi. Nothing a good night’s sleep and a lot of margaritas can’t fix. Want a drink?” He asked.

She shook her head. “I’ll pass. The others might, though.”

“Noted. Join them at the table, you must be starved. You’ve been out running around all day.” Kit walked back into the kitchen to grab the food, and Violet joined their friends in the dining room

“Roasted chicken and potatoes, and margaritas if you want them. It’s not restaurant quality, but I promise I’ve not poisoned you.” Kit sat at the end of the table, waiting for the others to serve themselves before grabbing his own food.

The group quickly dug into their dinners, quite hungry after a long day of exploring. After a minute, Leander set down his fork to start a conversation. “We were thinking of going night swimming after dinner. You down, Ruby?”

Kit laughed and shook his head. “I don’t think so. I don’t swim”

“Don’t or can’t?” Leander challenged.

“Both.” Kit replied. He’d nearly drowned as a young child, and that had pretty much put him off from ever wanting to swim again.

“It’s never too late to learn.” Leander countered. “Swimming isn’t hard, and besides, if we go out at night, you won’t get sunburned.”

“Yeah! You should come with us! I’ll teach you to swim!” Nina offered.

Kit paused to think, taking another sip of his margarita. He was getting bored of just sitting in the house alone while the others had fun. “You know what, fuck it. Let’s do it.” He probably would have been more hesitant sober, but he hadn’t been sober since about eleven that morning.

Nina grinned. “Yay! We’re gonna go night swimming!”

“That we are.” Kit nodded. “Finish your dinner first.” He finished off his own food before adding, “Lord, I’m not entirely sure I own a swimsuit.”

“I’ve probably got one you can borrow.” Leander offered. He was taller than Kit, but thin enough that there wasn’t too much of a discrepancy in their waist sizes.

“I suppose that’s it then. Let’s get changed.” Kit cleared the plates from the table before following Leander upstairs.

The moon reflected on the water, a rippling disc of white in a sea of deep inky blue. Kit sighed nervously as he followed his friends down to the beach. He hadn’t been in water deeper than a bathtub since he was a child, and even drunk, he was fairly anxious.

Nina hurried over to him, her braids tucked into a swim cap. “Don’t worry, Ruby. I’ll stay right by you until you get used to it!” She gave Kit a hug and a big smile before gently tugging on his hand to lead him into the water.

Kit took a deep breath, keeping a tight grip on Nina’s hand as he followed her. He expected the waves to be icy as they lapped at his toes, but to his surprise, the water was pleasantly warm. Not being frozen helped him to relax a bit more, and he walked out to about chest height, shivering a bit as the water brushed his bare chest. In the pale glow of the moon, he looked ethereal and ghostly, whereas Nina almost disappeared into the shadows, save for the whites of her eyes and her bright smile.

“See?” She chirped, “This isn’t so bad!”

“You didn’t even melt!” Leander chimed in, earning a chuckle from Violet and Isabella.

“Shut up.” Kit huffed, waving a hand at them dismissively.

Nina giggled. “Ignore them. Come on, a little deeper. You’ll have to paddle, but you’ll get the hang of it.”

Kit nodded slowly, taking a shaky breath before venturing into deeper water. Only his nose and eyes peered out of the depths now, and he flailed his hands experimentally for a minute before figuring out how to properly paddle.

“There you go!” Nina smiled proudly. “Now you can at least keep your head above water.”

“Y… yeah.” Kit smiled a little, seeming reassured.

“Come on, try a breast stroke. It really isn’t too hard.”

After an hour or so of Nina demonstrating and Kit awkwardly flailing through the water, Kit had a solid enough grasp of basic swimming to be comfortable wandering up and down the coast with his friends. They swam around to the far side of the island, where they’d found a neat-looking cove earlier in the day.

Nina took it upon herself to gather as many seashells as she could find. Meanwhile, Leander and Violet were trying to recruit Kit and Isabella respectively for a battle-of-the-sexes chicken fight. It took a bit of begging and goading, but eventually Kit climbed atop Leander’s shoulders and Isabella onto Violet’s, and the battle began.

The game lasted a while, as Kit and Leander tended to be faster and better at dodging, but the girls were on a very aggressive offense. They eventually called it when Isabella yanked Kit by his hair, pushing him off into the water with a more-than-playful shove. The red-haired boy popped out of the water, sputtering and gasping.

“You bitch! That’s not fair!”

Isabella shrugged. “I knocked you off, didn’t I?”

Kit huffed indignantly. “Like a bitch. Let’s play something else.”

“Like what?” Leander asked.

“I have a beachball up on the shore.” Violet offered, climbing out of the water to go get it.

They ended up smacking around the big plastic globe for a while before getting bored again. At that point, the twins ventured off to look for more shells while Leander and Violet floated around and bickered about more fictional animal fights. Kit followed the two of them for a while before starting to zone out, and before he knew it, he had drifted a ways out into the water.

Trying not to stress, he stopped floating on his back to see if his feet could reach the bottom. They didn’t. Now a little more anxious, he scanned the beach, spotting his friends a ways off to his right. He attempted to paddle back towards the cove, but to his alarm, felt something stronger than the typical resistance of water pulling him in the opposite direction. Now he was straight up panicking.

Flailing and gasping and kicking as hard as he could, Kit struggled to swim back towards the shore; however, it felt like the cold, slimy hands of Neptune himself had grabbed him by the balls to drag him to his doom. As much as he was fighting and paddling, he wasn’t even close to being a strong enough swimmer to go against a riptide. It didn’t help that he was absolutely freaking the hell out, shaking and starting to hyperventilate. In barely ninety seconds, he managed to wear himself out, no longer having the energy to keep his flailing, panicky ass afloat. He could feel himself sinking and being sucked out further into increasingly colder water, while the voice in his head shifted from scared to morbid.

This is it. This is how I die. This is the end of me.

He could no longer hold his breath, and a gush of cold water forced its way into his lungs.

Fuck, that burns. I knew I shouldn’t have gone swimming. Has anyone even noticed I’m gone? Of course not. They don’t give a shit about me. Isabella will probably throw a party when they find my drowned body.

His thoughts started to blur a bit more as he felt himself sinking downwards into the cold, inky depths.

At least it’s quiet down here… the cool water feels amost nice… it’s actually kind of peaceful…

Meanwhile, only moments after Kit had drifted away from Violet and Leander, the blond boy looked around, frowning in confusion.

“Where the hell is Ruby?”

Violet opened her eyes, going from floating to standing in the water in about half a second. She looked all around her.

“Shit. I don’t know. Maybe he went with the girls?”

“I’ll go check.” Leander made his way back up to the shore, and he cursed loudly when he found the twins sorting seashells alone. “Fuck. Goddamn. Bloody fucking hell. VIOLET!!!” Leander was now running across the beach yelling and panicking. “He’s not there. He’s not over there. He’s not fucking there!”

Violet smacked Leander in the shoulder. “Calm down. You freaking out isn’t going to help. Come on, follow me into the water. Help me look for him.”

The lanky blond nodded and took a deep breath, paddling out into the waves with her. He finally noticed a speck of motion in his peripheral, and turned to see a flailing red and white mass slowly drifting out to sea.

“Oi! Violet! Over there!”

The dark-haired girl looked over in the same direction, shocked to see how far away Kit was. “How in the bloody fuck did he get that far out?”

“Maybe ask questions after we go get him?” Leander suggested.

“Right! Go get the girls, tell them what’s going on. I’ll get him.”

“Are you sure you can handle it alo -”

“Go!” Violet kicked off in pursuit of her friend, hoping Leander would follow her instructions and head back to shore.

Being a remarkably strong swimmer, it didn’t take Violet long to reach the sinking Kit. She dove into the strong current and surfaced with his limp body in her arms. Knowing no one shy of Superman could swim against a riptide, she kept her grip on Kit while working to paddle them out of the current, parallel to the shore.

Once the tugging force of a very pissy Poseidon was no longer dragging them further out to sea, Violet hurried to shore, the unconscious red-haired boy held tightly in her arms. By the time she got there, Leander, Nina, and Isabella were standing on shore waiting for them. It looked like Nina had been crying, and Leander was pacing nervously. Isabella was just standing there looking bored.

“Well don’t just stand there like a bunch of lemons! Fucking help me. Someone get towels, call a doctor, just do something useful why fucking don’t you!”

Violet barked at her friends as she laid Kit out on the sand. Taking a deep shaky breath, she knelt over him, grateful that she had worked as a lifeguard for many summers. She started with two breaths before placing her hands firmly over his chest. After a second of anxious hesitation, she started compressions, wincing a little as she heard his ribs crack. Even though Violet knew it had to happen, she still felt a deep pang of guilt as she continued to pump his chest. Nina returned while Violet was doing compressions, tearfully offering a pile of towels. Isabella was close in tow, still just observing and disinterested.

Violet gave a terse, “Thanks, Nina,” leaning back down to administer two more breaths before going back to compressions. She went through the cycle of breaths and compressions about three more times before Kit spit out a mouthful of water and started coughing weakly. “Oh, thank god…” she muttered quietly, sighing in relief.

Kit was still coughing and sputtering, bringing up more water and trembling like a leaf. Violet slowly and carefully helped him sit up, leaning him forward so he wouldn’t choke on the water. Between coughs and shaky breaths, he was mumbling nervously. “S…so deep… really c-cold… agh, my chest…” Kit grimaced and put a hand to his torso as a bad cough made his cracked ribs painfully obvious.

“Shh…” Violet slowly rubbed a hand up and down his back. “Just relax. Try to breathe. You’re okay now. Leander went to call a doctor. We’ve got towels. We’ll take you back to the beach house, dry you off, see what the doctor says to do. Okay?”

The shivering, miserable redhead nodded, coughing again and mumbling, “M’kay… feel… feel kinda sick…”

Violet sighed, supporting him as gently as she could while making sure he didn’t fall. “Go ahead. You’ll be okay.”

A deep painful cough cause Kit to pitch forward, turning into a retch as he brought up a mouthful of bile and seawater. Another heave brought up most of his dinner and a good bit of tequila, and one more wave of sick splattered onto the sand before his stomach settled down. He sank back against Violet with a groan. “Christ, I feel like I’m dying…”

“Don’t you dare die on me now.” Violet scooped him up, wrapping him in several towels and heading back towards the beach house.

“Wasn’t on the agenda…” Kit mumbled, burying his face in her shoulder.

For more, or to tell me I suck, go check out @lickstynine.