#sicktember day 11

[whumperwithwings]

Sicktember Day 11

Medieval Treatment

Dear [illegible],

I haven't wrote to you in a long time, I know, but we just made it to Colorado and my mother says that I should get better any day now! We didn't bring much paper, and unlike [illegible] there aren't any stores for miles, so I can't write you that much. I'll admit, breathing has been a bit easier the farther we got from the city, but I still didn't want to leave my entire life behind there. Make sure to enjoy the city for me.

Sincerely, Whumpee

[lhaagain]

@sicktember Part 2 - My Mortal Soul

I've taken a slightly different approach to Sicktember this year and have grouped the prompts together into five fics. This one includes the following prompts: 19. Hypochondriac Tendencies 11. Mediaeval Treatment 23. Under a Spell 9. Overdramatic Patient/Caretaker 2. Too Much of a Good Thing/Overindulgence

My Mortal Soul

“I could not possibly,” Monica Joan declared. “My soul is only clinging to my physical manifestation by a thread.”

“I’m sorry you’re not feeling well,” Julienne said gently, coming to sit on the side of her sister’s bed. “Is there something in particular the matter?” When their elder sister had not appeared in the chapel for Lauds, Julienne had seen the weary look on Ada’s face and offered to go up instead.

For as long as Julienne had known Monica Joan, and she suspected long before that, she had been something of an eccentric. She was fond of ancient cultures, astronomy and astrology but increasingly she seemed to not only be fascinated but truly believe what she was saying.

“I am besieged by an evil temper. The wind must be from the east.”

“It might be,” Julienne said. “But I suspect that has little to do with what ails you.”

Read more on AO3

[fletcherwilbury]

@sicktember Day 11: Alt Prompt 1: "I could really use a hug right now."

Warning for Hospital setting, surgery mention, past traumatic incidents, medication mention

[acasualcrossfade]

Faking Sick=Long Weekend

Sicktember Day 11:  Beginner’s Guide to Faking Sick

Stranger Things: Steve Harrington/ Eddie Munson

Words: 500 | Rating: M | CW: mentions of sex, mild cursing

@sicktember

Summary: Steve fakes sick to spend a long weekend with Eddie at Lover's Lake at their favorite cabin.

Find me on Ao3!

--

Steve thundered down the stairs and skidded into the kitchen where Eddie stood at the counter. Steve held up his hands in celebration.

“You did it?” Eddie asked, standing stock-still, his face gaping with expectation. His ringed hands pressed into the counter in anticipation.

Steve broke out into a smile and nodded vigorously. “I did it!”

Eddie cheered, snacking the counter excitedly; one second he was at the counter and the next, he was colliding into Steve’s arms.

“A weekend at the cabin with you,” Eddie breathed into Steve’s chest. “Thought we’d never get away again.”

“And, best part…” Steve hinted.

Eddie looked up at him with raised eyebrows. “What, there’s more?”

“I told Keith that I won’t be in tomorrow, since this cough is really getting me. Check this out.” 

Steve turned his face away and did the best impression of the very fake yet serious sounding hacking coughs he’d voiced over the phone, earning an impressed nod from Eddie.

“So I told him I need tomorrow off, too. He wasn’t too happy but accepted it,” Steve added. “Which means we get a long whole weekend at the lake.”

“I could kiss you forever,” Eddie smiled. “And Keith can kiss my ass; didn’t you work like, three doubles last week?”

“Yeah, and I’m still part time at the school on Mondays and Tuesdays to shadow their counselor,” Steve added. 

It’d been a tiring year, and Steve could easily say the best part was saying I do to Eddie at the beginning of it, the only competition being the week they’d spent at the cabin at Lover’s Lake.

Eddie shook his head almost in disbelief. “A long weekend. Just you and me. At the place we had our honeymoon.” He gave a sly smile to Steve. “We’ve got a lot to recreate.”

Steve nipped Eddie’s ear with a smile. “We do, don’t we?”

Those mornings had been some of Steve’s favorites with Eddie. The early morning sunrays would stretch across the bedspread and then across their faces. They’d both roll away from the offending light and closer against each other. And what started with small touches and grazes grew to cuddles and holds, then gentle grinding. And there’d be enough sunlight for Steve to roll over onto Eddie and then into him, fucking him in a sleepy haze that was filled with murmurs and moans with a rocking rhythm that matched the crashing waves outside. 

“Which means we’re bringing the whipped cream,” Eddie smiled wider. “You promised that the next time…”

Steve pressed a kiss to Eddie’s lips before he could continue. He knew exactly what he’d promised. “Well you better get packing,” he whispered. “I’ve been craving my own Eddie sundae.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Eddie replied, pecking a kiss on Steve. He broke away to start frantically searching the fridge.

Steve watched Eddie, already looking forward to a few days off.

They had a long weekend. 

And he was going to make the most of it.

[newwwwusername]

Fic title : I'm Sick **NOT CLICKBAIT** (100% REAL)

@sicktember 2023 prompt : Beginner's Guide to Faking Sick

Rating : General Audiences

Fandom : The Amazing World of Gumball

Pairing : Gumball & Nicole

Additional tags : Faking Sick, Gumball Watterson is a Little Shit, Good Parent Nicole Watterson, School, Mother-Son Relationship (not the weird kind)

Word count : 295

[autobot2001]

Proven Wrong

Sicktember one-shot 3/6

Fandom: N/A Characters: Caretaker, Whumpee Prompts: Day 6; Preventative Measures (Not Taken), Day 10; "The only place we're going is to the pharmacy", Day 11; Beginner's Guide to Faking Sick, Day 12; Old Wives Tale Day 18; "Wear Your Coat, You'll Catch a Cold" Warning: None

Whumpee loves playing in the snow. They don't care if most adults only play in the snow with kids. Caretaker sometimes would join Whumpee, but they often stay in the house. They like seeing Whumpee excited about the season's first snowstorm like a child.

"They say two feet of snow dumped last night," Caretaker says while cooking breakfast, "you're eating first." Whumpee is more eager to go outside for the day.

"Wear your coat. You'll catch a cold," Caretaker argues, seeing what Whumpee is wearing. "I'm wearing three layers. I'll be fine," Whumpee argues, "besides, that's just an old wives tale." Whumpee leaves the house before Caretaker can say anything else. They'll be back in an hour. Caretaker believes, noting it's ten in the morning. They decide to start making homemade soup.

Ninety minutes pass, Caretaker stands before the stove with a pot of soup. Caretaker thought Whumpee would be in the house by now. They try not to worry until they realize they didn't ensure Whumpee wore gloves and boots. Should I worry they might be in the early stages of frostbite? Caretaker questions. They wait another thirty minutes before going to find Whumpee.

Whumpee sits on a log, shivering and too cold to move. Even though they know they'll end up with hypothermia if they stay here. Caretaker is going to be pissed. Whumpee believes. I think I'll have more than a cold at this point.

Whumpee doesn't know what happened or how Caretaker got them back in the house and on the couch. They wonder if they passed out. Caretaker walks into the room with two bowls of soup. They put a tray on Whumpee's lap and the bowl of soup on the tray. Whumpee is freezing without the blankets but can't figure out how to eat and stay under the blankets. Caretaker wants to scold Whumpee for not listening and scaring them. Instead, they turn in the TV. Within a couple of hours, Whumpee is warm. The rest of the day goes on as if nothing happened.

Whumpee feels a little sick when they wake up, but it's not too bad. They're glad they don't have to tell Caretaker, which would result in the day they had planned being canceled. They get ready for the day and go downstairs.

Caretaker is cooking breakfast when Whumpee gets downstairs. They are also ready for the day. "We'll head out after we eat," Caretaker says. Whumpee nods and sits at the table. They're starting to feel unwell and need to lie down. They remind themselves that they need to act like they're ok no matter how much they want to go back to bed. "You ok?" Caretaker asks. "Just a little tired."

"Are we going to get lunch now?" Whumpee asks. "The only place we're going is to the pharmacy," Caretaker replies, "you look awful, and don't say you're tired," Caretaker takes Whumpee's hand, "you're freezing."

When Caretaker gets to CVS, Whumpee can't take being sick. Caretaker has to leave the car on to have the heat on full blast. Whumpee wants to go back to bed. Caretaker is back in five minutes. "Ok, I got the medication. Let's get you home."

Caretaker has to help Whumpee up to their room and into bed. They take Whumpee's temperature and give them the medication. "It's a cold, but you feel terrible because you weren't resting," Caretaker explains, "I'll check on you in an hour."

Whumpee sleeps for three hours. They feel much better when they wake up. They walk out of their room to go downstairs when Caretaker stops them. "You're going back to bed. I'll get the soup I made yesterday." "Cold soup." "I'll heat it up, smart ass. Then you'll take a shower. That'll help the congestion." Whumpee gets back into bed, waiting for Caretaker.

Whumpee feels better after eating and a shower. They go downstairs to watch TV with Caretaker. "You definitely will not be going to work tomorrow," caretaker comments, "I know you'll be asleep most of the day, but maybe I should call in." "You'd be lying," Whumpee argues, "I'll be fine." The rest of the day is a lazy Sunday.

Whumpee is up before Caretaker has to leave, which relieves Caretaker. Now they can endure Whumpee is eating something good for breakfast. In case they do not feel well enough to heat up the remainder of the soup. "Soup for dinner?" Caretaker asks. "Sure." "Then I'll be home a little later. I need to buy half the ingredients needed." Caretaker leaves while Whumpee eats, wishing they had taken the medicine before coming downstairs. Even if they are going back to bed.

Whumpee slept all morning. They're awake in time to answer the Caretaker's call to check on them. After the ten-minute call, Whumpee heats up what's left of the soup and watches TV. They're not enjoying the day off from work. Laughing at how they'd rather be at work while many would gladly work less as long as pay kept up.

Whumpee ended up sleeping all afternoon. Regretting they didn't take more medication before falling asleep. They walk upstairs to get more medication. Glad they left their water bottle on the nightstand. They take the medication and lie back in bed.

Caretaker is home an hour later than usual. Whumpee lies on the couch, bored. "I'm tired of sleeping all day," they complain. Caretaker laughs at the complaint. "Sorry, but I think you should still stay home tomorrow." .Caretaker laughs at Whumpee groaning and goes to make Dinner.

As Caretaker said, Whumpee could go back to work on Wednesday. They missed working but were surprised at how little they had to catch up on. "Oh come on, you know we look out for each other," a co-worker argues, "we were able to divide the work you would have been doing without adding too much to our loads." "You know Whumpee is a workaholic," Caretaker jokes. "Glad you live with them and can make sure they rest." After a good joke, everyone gets to work. Whumpee hopes it's another year before they get sick again.

[dollgutzzz]

Sicktember Day 11 (ALT): “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Thank you anonymous for the outline for this prompt! It was so wholesome ��� It’s crazy that I originally started writing fics for k*nk reasons but now like…….. I love writing sappy fluff and soft hurt/comfort stuff 🩷

Rating: G

Media: Final Fantasy XV

Characters: Noctis, Ignis, Prompto, and Gladiolus

Summary: Noctis starts feeling ill and it slowly worsens throughout the day. Ignis runs to town to get medicine, but Noctis is asleep before he can get back. Hopefully, he sleeps through the night…

[fanfictasia]

Sicktember Day 11

Beginner’s Guide to Faking Sick

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from The Chosen Twins

Anakin Skywalker

“Seriously, Master?” I echo, incredulously, “We already know the symptoms for this are a lot like a cold.”

He ignores me.

“I knew it,” Anina sing-songs, “He’s just faking. Maybe he read the Beginner’s Guide to Faking Sick before coming here. And now he just wants to make us worry about him.”

The death glare Obi-Wan gives her should have been enough to make anyone cower, but she just grins back.

I try – and fail – to smother my laugh. Because it really, really isn’t funny, since I know the symptoms of this could be serious, but honestly.

“We need to be focusing on locating those pirates,” Obi-Wan says, shortly.

“They’re long gone, Master. We’ll never find them now,” I point out, bluntly. We lost the trail entirely, but now that they know Jedi are coming after them, hopefully it will be enough for them to stop attacking the transports they were stealing from. I hate failing on a mission for any reason, so I hope this will at least have done something.

“We’ll assess the situation when we get back to the city,” Qui-Gon replies.“If it’s a we,” Aniya mutters under her breath, which I take to mean as another pointed indication that by the time we reach the city, I don’t know how capable Obi-Wan will be of helping us. The symptoms probably are going to get worse, after all, which takes the edge of my amusement.

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

Sicktember Day 11: Medieval Treatment - Gravity Falls

“It’s called bronchitis,” Ford wheezed, rubbing at his chest as the last of his coughing fit finally, finally subsided. The pain and the bemused, multi-eyed stares from his Cala hosts were worth it for the amount of mucus he had finally dislodged from his chest. “The tubes that carry oxygen to and from my lungs have become inflamed. I-It’s a common Earth illness; I’m sure I’ll be over it in a couple of weeks.”

Realistically it could be up to six weeks, considering how exhausted his body was, but he couldn’t stay in this safe haven long enough to wait that out. Better he suffer a little longer on the road than have the Calans suffer an eternity at Bill’s hands for harboring him.

“Two Earth weeks or Calan weeks? You need not wait that long!” one of them burbled and waved an amused, dismissive tendril, unaware of his bleak thoughts. “We know of such afflictions here and have just the thing already!”

At that Ford perked up, wishing he had the energy to grab for his pack, find something inside to take notes on another new alien treatment. Time and again he’d seen how primitive Earth medicine was in comparison. How had his world ever resorted to things like—

“…Leeches?” Ford could only hope the weak, hollow whistling in his voice disguised the notes of revulsion and unease.

“The strongest, swiftest bite on offer!” the Calan assured with pride, thrusting forth the basin teeming with fanged, flailing forms. “They’ll suck any trace of flame from your vapor system in seconds!”

“Oh, but I couldn’t possibly…impose upon your resources.”

“Are you sure? It’s a simple process of latching them along the lining of your stomach and throat—”

“No, no, thank you.” No ifs, no ands, no buts, no leeches!

[softsnzstuff]

Sicktember Day 11 - Beginners Guide to Faking Sick

Fandom: Stranger Things; Streamer AU

Summary: Eddie teaches you by way of vlog how to properly fake sick to get out of an event. Yes he uses chhinkni…

Word Count: 950

Eddie’s camera pointed towards where he was sitting at his gaming desk. He knew he had to film this quick while Steve was out buying groceries.

“What’s up guy! I’m back again and today we have to be quick while Steve’s out. There’s an event tomorrow that I really don’t want to go to… so I’m filming a little How To.”

He smirked to himself, “This is the beginners’ guide to faking sick.”

He removed the camera from the tripod and held it vlogging style as he paced around his room.

“A lot of people are gonna try and go for the fake chicken pox or stomach bug. It’s too complex!!! You want this shit to be two things. Believable and basic.”

“I used to try this stuff out as a kid, so I’ve basically perfected the act of faking sick. You can’t make it too medically scary or they’ll send ya to a doctor. We don’t want that. And it’s gotta be something you can keep up for a day or so. The trick is starting early so it’s not too suspicious.”

He set the camera down on one of the desk shelves as he used a key to open this small package on the desk.

“This stuff? This is supposedly going to be our miracle worker. It’s called chinky or cheeknee or something? Anyways it’s spelled like this.”

He holds the package of Chhinkni to the camera, his hand flat behind it so it’ll focus on the little vial inside the packaging.

“Supposed to make you sneeze I guess? Anyways - OOP!”

There was a thud of the front door closing before the muffled call came out, “Eddie I’m back! Can I get a hand with the groceries please?”

“He’s back! Gotta be fast…”

Eddie quickly unscrewed the cap of the vial and tapped some of the powder out onto the back of his hand.

“Here goes nothing.” He snorted it, making a face and scrunching his nose up, “Oooooh! That is something! Let’s see if it works.”

Still vlogging, he made his way out to the kitchen as if nothing had happened.

“Steve just got back from the store. Lemme set you guys down so I can help him with these grehhhh ugh.. SnF! Groceries… h’isssSHEW!! T’szuHEW! ii’KSHT!”

The older man pitched forward sneezing openly at the floor, away from Steve.

“Bless you! Cover those sneezes, Ed’s.” Steve winced, leaning slightly away as he unbagged the apples.

“Sorry, don’t know what’s going on. Been sneezing since you left…” Eddie lied.

He brought his left elbow up to his mouth, right arm holding it in place as he pitched forward again.

“G’tCHUhh! H’xxT! ….mpTSCH! hih.. EH’isshHiew!!”

Steve pressed a hand to Eddie’s forehead. “You feeling okay, bug? Those sound more… desperate than normal and it’s not allergy season…”

The older man sniffled wetly against the back of his hand, making Steve grimace. “My throat’s a little scratchy but I’m okay.”

Steve put a hand on the small of Eddie’s back and ushered him towards the couch. “You go chill while I unload these. If you are sick I don’t want your germs on my vegetables. Take your camera.”

Eddie faked a pout as he shuffled off to the sofa. “I got kicked out of the kitchen guys…”

*~*~*~

The next morning, Eddie is up early and sneaks off to the bathroom.

“Okay guys this is where the real acting comes in play.” He whispers. “I’m about to make myself look disheveled, but we’re also going to make use of a heating pad I borrowed from Robin and that chickeny stuff again.”

His hair is already messy from sleep, and he scrubs aggressively at his nose until it’s tinged slightly pink with irritation. He holds the heating pad up for the camera before pressing it to his face and the back of his neck for a while, fake coughing into his shirt to slightly muffle the sound.

He stashes the heating pad under the sink and snorts some more powder, grabbing some tissues for an extra pitiful look.

It doesn’t take long for the powder to start working, his inner nostrils absolutely buzzing with a tickle.

“H’etSHiew! ItssSH!! H’eSSHihew!”

He coughs loudly again until he hears Steve turn in the bed.

“Eddie? You okay?” The younger man’s voice is groggy with sleep.

“I’b okay Steve, go back to bed.. TSZIEW!”

Eddie turns off the camera and hides it before opening the door to head back towards the bed where Steve is sitting upright.

“You look awful.” Steve comments, pressing a hand once again to Eddie’s forehead, “and you’re really warm, Eds. I think you’re sick.”

“Hep’TsCh!” Eddie muffled a sneeze into his fistful of tissues. “Think you’re right.”

Steve frowns, “I’ll cancel brunch with my aunt then.”

“No no you don’t have to do that. I’m okay Steve, you should go.”

Steve hesitates, “Are you sure?”

Eddie nods and gives a weak smile. “I’m snff I’m sure.”

*~*~*~

While Steve is at brunch, Eddie is at his desk editing the video. He chuckles to himself at the ending shot of him vlog style waving to Steve as he leaves for the brunch alone. As soon as the door shuts, Eddie perks up and says, “THAT is how you fake sick.”

He posts the video after two hours of editing and goes back to the couch to the couch to scroll on his phone. When Steve comes back, he sees Eddie’s posted something.

“Pre-recorded video?” He asks the boyfriend on the couch.

“Something like that.”

As soon as Steve opens it and sees the title, he slaps his phone onto the table.

“EDDIE!!!!!”

[monaisme]

Sicktember: Day 11

#11- Medieval Treatment

“Hey, Peter,” Ned called out into the boy’s locker room, “Are you still in here?”

Peter groaned from the stall he was currently sitting in. “Yeah,” he called out. “Can you tell everyone I’m sorry and to start without me?” Peter shifted in discomfort. “I’m definitely gonna be a bit longer.”

“Aw, man. That sucks.”

“I know.” Peter whined. “I don’t get it, Ned! Since the...  you know...” Peter’s voice dropped low for that part, “My stomach is just—” Peter tried to find the right word but, as though being summoned by its mere mentioning, Peter’s stomach gurgled. “fucked.” His face flushed red, not that anyone could see it. “Just go, Ned. You don’t want to be in here for this. I’ll come out when I can.”

Peter heard a couple of shuffled steps come closer, and then, “Have you thought about talking to Mr. Stark about this?”

Peter’s face flushed even more. “Yeah, that’s a hard pass. Gosh. He hardly talks to me now?! Can you imagine that call? Hi, Mr. Stark, it’s Peter Parker. So my tummy is rumbly and— oh gaw—” Cramps flashed like lightening across Peter’s abdomen. “Please go, Ned. We’ll talk later!”

“Got it,” Ned replied and hurried away, wishing he could figure out how to help his best friend, but at a complete loss.

The worry must have still shown on Ned’s face as he re-entered the gymnasium because before he could even make his way across the gymnasium, Abe had looked over to him and piped up, “Uh, oh. Something’s wrong.”

Mr. Harrington shushed everyone’s whispering with a look, but their attention still shifted as Ned walked over to the group. Ned kept his focus on Mr. Harrington. “Uh, Peter’s sorry, sir, but he’ll be a little late. He says he doesn’t think we should wait for him and to just get started.”

Mr. Harrington had picked up on the concern. “Oh, dear, should I go check on him?” he asked quietly.

But Ned knew better. “I think he just needs some time to work things out?” he replied awkwardly. How would one convey that his best friend’s digestive system was rebelling in the most horrible way imaginable for no reason that Ned could share? “He, uh, probably wants to be alone for it, you know?”

Mr. Harrington looked sympathetic. “Okay, then. I can respect that.” The teacher then turned away from Ned, and clapped his hands together to get everyone’s attention. “Alrighty, Aca Deca! Let’s turn our brains on to maximum output and get this practice started. Captain, the floor is yours.”

And just like that, everyone moved on.

It took longer than he’d hoped, but Peter joined everyone about twenty minutes into the hour long practice, looking pale and shaky enough that even Flash bit his tongue and left well enough alone.

Mr. Harrington cast a questioning glance at him, but Peter gave him a quick nod of assurance and practice was back on track.

Ned, however, needed to hear the words for himself, “Are you going to be okay, Peter?” Ned leaned over to whisper once Peter had sat himself tentatively in his chair.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Peter answered back softly. “I’m just gonna get through this and then head home and lie down for a bit.” He huffed a little laugh. “There are some soda crackers in the cupboard I’m praying my stomach won’t totally hate me for.”

Ned cringed, nodded, and gave Peter an awkward shoulder pat in support. What else could he do?

MJ cleared her throat and glared at the pair.

Peter must have looked really bad if MJ was letting their chatter slide with nothing more than that.

Crap.

It was all they could do to turn their focus fully to MJ and the remainder of the rapid fire Q & A that she’d prepped for their practice. It wouldn’t have done Peter or Ned any good to have MJ murder them for not focussing when those crackers were suddenly sounding so good.

Finally the last buzzer had been buzzed and the lot of them had proven their worth to MJ once more. To say that Peter was relieved that he’d redeemed himself with his responses was an understatement, especially after the debacle in D.C. Peter was determined to prove his worth—if only his stupid stomach would cooperate.

“Come on, buddy. I’ll walk you home, okay?” Ned patted gently him on the back and picked up both of their backpacks. Peter nodded and started the shuffle toward the gymnasium doors.

“Hey, guys, wait up a sec!” Betty Brandt had been speaking to Charles across the gym, it seemed, but called out to them as she bolted toward them before they could exit. “Peter! I wanted to talk to you!”

Both of the boys glanced at each other questioningly and stopped in their tracks.

“Oh! Good! Thanks!” Betty smiled brightly. “I’m not going to take long, I know you’re not feeling great. I just—” Betty, it seemed, had just realized what she had planned to say, “Oh, gosh. It’s just that we- I mean, I’ve noticed that you’re having some ‘stomach issues,’” Betty blurted, “and my uncle is a chiropractor, so...”

Peter was tired enough from all of the discomfort and overall grossness of what his life had become that he almost wasn’t bothered by her slip of the tongue and the newfound awareness that everyone was talking about this... subject... almost. Peter blushed, but needed to cut her off. “Uh. No offense, Betty, but what does my back have to do with my...” He couldn’t help but be suspicious.

“Well, my uncle took a couple of extra courses about nutrition and such and he swears that if you drink apple cider vinegar every day, it will help to regulate your digestive system. Like, in your stomach and intestines and all that. He explained it to me, and I was looking over my biology notes last night and, well, the science works in theory so I thought that maybe it was worth mentioning? Or you could maybe do some reading, too, I guess? Check it out?”

“Uh, thanks,” Peter smiled weakly. “We’ll definitely do that.” Peter looked at Ned then back to Betty. “So, uh, I guess we’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Betty grinned big, obviously pleased with herself for performing her good deed for the day. “Awesome! See you tomorrow!” She nodded at Peter in farewell, then grinned even bigger for Ned, “I’ll see you, too, right?”

Ned shrugged, “Yeah, sure,” then hooked his arm through Peter’s and ushered them both away.

“That was weird, wasn’t it?” Ned whispered when he knew they were far enough away that Betty wouldn’t hear them. “I’m feeling like I’m missing something... it wasn’t just me, right?”

Peter chuckled. “Oh, that was weird, all right, but I wanna know if she was right about the—” Peter’s forehead scrunched as he tried to remember what exactly Betty had suggested. Focussing for MJ decathlon was one thing, but Betty had been a bit of an unexpected blur after the stomach talk. “I know she mentioned apples and vinegar?”

“That’s about all I got out of it, too,” Ned pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened up a search engine as they walked, “Huh? Cool beans! Apparently vinegar was used to treat the black plague during medieval times. It had to do with balancing the humours and all that sort of stuff.” Ned hefted the two backpacks he still carried a little higher then started scrolling down the page. “I need to look into becoming a chiropractor! This is straight out of D&D, Pete!”

Peter’s stomach did a warning lurch. “That doesn’t sound too promising.”

“I hear you, man, but Betty did say she checked it out and she is the go-to for bio notes. You know that computers are my thing. Anything else is gobbledygook until I have to study for a quiz... and then I go to Betty!” Ned thrust his phone in front of Peter, “But here. You can read the article while we walk and you can tell me what you want to do.”

Peter pushed Ned’s phone back towards him. “I just want to go home, crawl in a corner, and die.” Peter replied. His stomach swooped and he looked to see how close he was to home. “You know what, Ned?” Peter suddenly didn’t have time to waste. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, yanked out three one dollar bills, and passed them over to Ned. “That’s all the cash I’ve got. Gimme the backpacks. I’m gonna head back to my place before I become the stereotypical New Yorker. Please, Ned, just... I can’t take this anymore. Go find somewhere that sells vinegar. If it’s more than three dollars, I’ll pay you back when I get my next allowance.” Peter was on borrowed time. He took both of the backpacks and started walking faster. He couldn’t wait for an answer. The discussion was over. “Don’t forget about the apples! Thanks, man. I owe you!” And Peter was off.

/-/-/

It was only thirty minutes later that Ned arrived at the door to the Parker apartment carrying his bounty and executed his special knock.  

“Hey, Ned. It’s open.”

Ned frowned as he came in. “Dude? Come on! I get that you’re Spider-Man, but this is still the city,” he chastised his friend as he walked past the couch, into the kitchen, and pulled open the cabinet door hiding the glasses. “What if I’d walked in and decided to murder you dead—” Ned grabbed a glass and turned, intending to head to the dining room table, but caught sight of his friend. “Peter?”

“Hey,” Peter dragged himself up off the couch he’d been lying on. “You were way faster than I thought you’d be.”

Ned couldn’t take his eyes off of Peter, who had shucked his bulky sweatshirt, long sleeved tee, and jeans in exchange for a plain black tee and sweats. How had Ned not noticed that he’d started to lose weight? “Dude?” Ned was more than worried now. “Are you sure we shouldn’t call Mr. Stark? I’m starting to feel like—”

Peter frowned. “I already told you, he doesn’t want to hear from me.”

“But—”

“No!”

“But, Peter! Something’s wrong!”

“Yah! And we’re trying to fix it! So did you find the vinegar or not?”

Ned nodded. “Uh huh.” He lifted up his arm to show the plastic bag hanging off his wrist. “Mr. Delmar had some hiding on a shelf somewhere in the stockroom. When I told him it was for you, he went and dug it out.”

Peter’s dulled eyes brightened. “Awesome! And the apples?”

“One apple, and it is also in the bag,” Ned walked the last steps to their dinner table and placed the bag and Peter’s three dollars in front of him. “AND it was all free of charge, so you know. Mr. Delmar said the vinegar is about to hit its best before and he wasn’t gonna be able to sell it anyways, and he says you need to eat more fruit and vegetables so the apple’s on him.”

Peter smiled wider. “He’s so amazing. I’ll be sure to say thanks the next time I go get a sandwich.”

Ned didn’t say anything else as he pulled the dusty bottle of vinegar and the apple out of the bag, but there was no hiding the fact that he was second guessing this. “Maybe I should read another article before we get started?”

Peter frowned at the hesitation, “C’mon, Ned. How bad can it be? It’s vinegar. It’s in practically everything we eat... and I’m guessing the apple is to, like, get the taste out of your mouth?”

Ned shrugged. “Makes sense, but...” he moved to pull his phone out of his pocket.

Peter crossed his arms, getting frustrated. “Stop it, Ned. This’ll be fine.”

Ned crossed his arms, getting frustrated, too. “This could also be so bad, though.”

Peter tried to crook an eyebrow. (He was still working on perfecting that particular skill.) “How’s about this—” Peter pulled his phone out of his back pocket and placed it on the table next to their supplies. “As a precaution, if something goes wrong, you have official permission to try calling Mr. Stark. I am telling you that nothing will go wrong—but if it does... it’s not like he answers now, so.” Peter shrugged.

Ned did manage to crook his own eyebrow. (As the Guy-in-the-Chair, he had more downtime to work on it.) “I hear you... and if he doesn’t answer, I’ll call Aunt May’s cell and pray for mercy. What is Mr. Stark listed as in your phone... just so I’m ready.”

“Currently?” Peter attempted another eyebrow crook, paused for effect, and answered, “Dr. Dolittle.”

 Ned exhaled slow and loud. “That’s deep, dude.”

“I know,” Peter looked impressed with himself. “But we can talk about that later. I’m ready to get on the path to—what did you say it was? Balancing my humours?” Peter grabbed the bottle of vinegar and twisted the cap open. “Phew,” Peter’s eyes watered as the vapours escaped into the air. “Maybe we’re supposed to mix it with the apple instead?” He wondered aloud, then poured a small measure into the glass. “I think Aunt May picked up some juice boxes?”

Ned walked back over to the kitchen, already knowing exactly where they would be if there was, indeed, apple juice. “Aha!” He shouted out in victory. “One brand spanky new pack of ten apple juice boxes. Dude, your aunt is a goddess!” Ned pulled out a single juice box, set the remainder on the counter, and returned, triumphant.

“I know,” Peter smiled, “now hand that over.” He made grabby hands, “I’m so over this.”

“I’ve got you, Pete,” Ned removed the straw from its plastic and poked the box open. “Do you think a one-to-one ratio would be best?” Ned asked as he squeezed the juice through the tiny hole and added it to the vinegar.

“Did it say anything about it on your phone?”

Ned shook his head, ‘no.’ “Not that I saw?”

“Well then, let’s start with that and see what happens.”

“If you’re sure...?” Ned was looking hesitant.

“Sure that I’m ready for this to be over? Absolutely.” Peter picked up the glass and gave it a swirl. “Think I can do this all in one go?”

Ned cringed at the thought of actually consuming the concoction, “For the sake of your taste buds, I sure hope so.”

“Me, too.” Peter took a couple of deep breaths, mentally preparing himself before one last thought came to him, “Oh! If I die, you can have my Funko Pop collection, okay?”

“PETER!” Ned hollered at him, “Don’t even joke about that!”

Peter snorted laughed, “Okay, I’ll haunt you and Betty instead.” With a final nod, Peter exhaled, raised his glass to Ned, smiled, and downed the glass in one great gulp...

And then everything went to hell.

/-/-/

Peter came back to himself all at once.

And by all at once, he meant it was with an attempt at a deeper than normal breath once he’d apparently been taken off the ventilator. Instead of relief, he struggled to breathe through a coughing fit for the ages, while wondering how he’d been made to swallow glass while simultaneously drinking gasoline and then setting his stomach on fire.

“ugh.” Peter rasped, then curled into a ball—well, he tried to. The tugs of the IV line and various monitors stopped him in his tracks, and that was when he remembered his everything in a flash of jumbled memories, “Oh.”

Even the click of the leather heel of Mr. Stark’s shoes sounded fancier in what Peter could guess what the medical floor of... somewhere? “Oh?” Mr. Stark came up to Peter’s bedside. “That’s all you’ve got to say for yourself?”

“Uh. I guess vinegar’s bad?” Crap, did his throat hurt.

Mr. Stark laughed, “Yeah, you can say that again.”

Peter rubbed at his throat and shook his head, “Nope.”

The brief look of amusement on Mr. Stark’s face shifted into one of regret, “Kid...” Mr. Stark shifted from one foot to another as he tried to come up with something to say, then finally spoke again, “I think I owe you an apology.”

Peter blinked in confusion. “Wha—?”

“No! Please. Stop talking before Dr. Cho kills me for messing up what’s healed so far. Just...” Mr. Stark sighed. “Please know that realize now that I should have been around more to help you out with... things. And I especially should have made myself available for you when you starting having issues with your mutation. I’m so sorry.”

Peter frowned and opened up his mouth to speak again when Mr. Stark stopped him. “Wait, really! Let me get something for you to...” he glanced around the room, but found nothing, so he pulled his own phone out of his pocket and opened up a blank screen. “Just, no talking. Type... please?”

Peter typed, fumbled a bit in his exhaustion, backspaced, then typed some more before eventually handing the phone back to the man. “Does have something to do with the whole spider thing? Am I dying?”

Mr. Stark almost choked as he read Peter’s words aloud, “No. Why would you think you were dying?!”

Peter put his hand out for the phone. He typed back, “You’re THE Tony Stark—and apologizing?!”

Mr. Stark’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “Well, yeah. When my asshole ways almost get you killed because I can’t be bothered to answer your calls... I can admit that I screwed up. AND,” Mr. Stark kept going, “I’m going to do better. While Pepper won’t let me buy back the tower, I am going to set up a base camp of sorts, somewhere closer to home so when things go to shit, we don’t need to fly you outside of the city via the Iron Man express to get help for emergencies.”

“WHAT?!” Peter couldn’t help his reaction, but wished he had as the pain flared enough that his eyes watered.

“Whoa, kid, relax... deep breaths! You’re okay... just breathe.” Mr. Stark instructed as Peter tried to get the pain under control. “That’s it.” He’d obviously had little experience in comforting, but he was trying, even as he rubbed Peter’s back.

“Peter?” A younger voice called out from somewhere behind him. “Mr. Stark? Is he awake?” Ned popped up beside Mr. Stark. “Oh, thank god! I thought we’d killed you! Did Mr. Stark tell you about it all yet? It was like out of a horror movie, man, blood spewing everywhere! And vinegar! Did you know that vinegar kills spiders? And peppermint? And cinnamon? And lemon! Dude! Everything you were eating was making you sick! Did Mr. Stark tell you about that? Man, oh, man! Good luck finding something to eat at the cafeteria now...” Ned finally trailed off once he noticed both Peter and Mr. Stark staring at him in awe.

“Did you even take a breath there?” Mr. Stark had to ask.

Ned just shrugged his shoulders. “It’s a gift.”

“Well, I was just about to tell Peter,” Mr. Stark brought his attention back to the boy in the bed. “That we’re going to do some testing before we send you home so you and your aunt can keep you safe. Okay? If that means that I have to hire you a private chef to make you specialized meals, then so be it, but for now, we’re gonna keep things super simple and wait on your gut to heal a little more before we go too crazy.”

Peter nodded, then picked up the sound of a woman’s footsteps coming down the hall.

Oh, no.

Peter’s brain flew into survival mode. He frantically tapped something out on the phone. “ned howdid you ge there”

“Oh, yeah.” Ned was pickin’ up what Peter was layin’ down. “Mr. Stark grabbed you, and then Aunt May and I came together in her car and, uh...”

Peter knew he shouldn’t have put it off, but he hadn’t wanted to worry her with anything else and he had it all under control until they’d decided to...

Even Ned looked nervous, and he’s had a head start! “Yeah. Sorry, Peter. She knows about everything... and she’s pissed.”

[whumpsday]

welcome to august! sorry this one's a day late--life's been hectic!

August whump events this month:

🍉 Augusnippets (@augusnippets), prompts here, a short-form whump event (can be customized as a 10/11-day or 30/31-day event)

🍊 August of Whump (@augustofwhump), prompts here, a 31-day whump event

🎂 Randowhump's Birthday Whump Event (@randowhump), prompts here, a 16-day whump event

📽️ Whump Gifathon (@whumpgifathon), prompts here, a 31-day whump gif-making event

August miscellaneous events this month:

🫂 Hug a Tiny Day, a 1-day giant/tiny event, is August 11th

🚀 AUgust (@augustwritingchallenge), prompts here, a 31-day AU event

September whump events next month:

🔤 Alphabet of Whump (@alphabetofwhump), prompts here, a 26-day whump event

🧸 Sicktember (@sicktember), prompts here, a 30-day sickfic event

💀 Whumptember (@whumptember), prompts possibly coming soon, may also be held this year but nothing has been announced yet

🎊 International Whump Day is September 12th. Celebrate however you like!

Whumptober, by far the most popular whump event, starts in two months! Be on the lookout for prompts coming soon.

happy creating! :)

[fletcherwilbury]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63517696

@sicktember 2024: Day 11 - Alt Prompt 1: Hospital Bed

Warning for Hospital setting, exhaustion, fainting, illness, medication, vomiting, mention of chronic illness

[woso-fan13]

Sicktember 2023: 11

Beginner’s Guide To Faking Sick

In an effort to assess the team’s fitness and any improvement in performance, someone thought it would be a good idea to have fitness testing twice- once on the first day and once on the last. You would really like to talk to the person who made this decision, because they need to know that they just made twenty-some new enemies. 

Everyone had been complaining about it since it was announced, and you had been very vocal about how much you were not looking forward to the beep test specifically. 

Andi had the pleasure of being your roommate, which meant she also had the pleasure of being the person who had to drag you out of bed in the mornings. She’s lucky you’re relatively easy to get out of bed, she could have been stuck with a lot worse. 

—-

“Y/N, come on. You need to get up, the bus leaves in 20 minutes,” Andi’s voice woke you. 

You groan, “Ands, my head really hurts. Can I please go back to sleep?”

You hear footsteps before you feel a hand pressing against your forehead. 

“You don’t have a fever, you’re fine.”

“Andi, please. It really hurts,” your voice is quiet. 

“Y/N, I’m not stupid, I know you’re trying to get out of fitness testing. Next time, commit fully to faking sick if you want to skip. It’s a little embarrassing, I was better at faking sick when I was in elementary school.”

“‘m not lying, I promise. My head feels like it’s going to explode.”

“I’m leaving,” Andi sighs, “be downstairs and ready to go in 15 minutes. Take some Tylenol if your head hurts that bad, and get up. If you really want to stay in your bed, you’ll have plenty of time when you’re dropped from the team for skipping.”

With that, you hear the door open and shut as Andi leaves. The girl really was all about tough love, which was usually good. She could always push you to reach a new best, never accepting any excuses.  

Just this once, you wished she would. But you knew she was right, Coach had dropped people for less than missing fitness testing. So you pulled yourself out of bed, got yourself together, and headed to the lobby. 

Your steps were slow and somewhat wobbly. Which made sense, because your head was spinning and felt like it was being split in half. But you made it to the elevator and stumbled into the lobby, joining the group of players. 

Andi, noticing your presence, walks over and slings her arm around your shoulder. Leaning down, she whispers to you. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t need to be so harsh this morning. I was just frustrated and I really couldn’t put up with your antics. We’re fine, right?”

You force a smile onto your face, “of course, Ands. Sorry for being so stubborn.”

If Andi hadn’t believed you earlier, you knew she wouldn’t believe you now. So you decided that you would mind-over-matter your way through the situation. If you pretended you felt normal, you eventually would feel normal, right?

—-

You didn’t even make it through the warm up. You managed through stretches, but you only made it about halfway around the field when your body decided to prove to Andi that you weren’t a liar. 

With a thud, you dropped to the ground. Everyone froze for a moment looking towards you, as if waiting for you to stand up. Instead, you began seizing. 

Everyone took off running, the vets crouching around you and shooing the younger players away. Andi, who had crouched by your head, watched in horror as you began throwing up, your seizure still not breaking. 

As the medics arrived, they quickly pushed everyone back. Andi begged to stay, and she was finally allowed to if she promised not to get in the way. She was directed to your feet, and she grabbed your ankle tightly. 

She watched as they shine a flashlight in your eyes, speaking rapidly. She catches words such as “dilated” and “uneven” and she knows enough to know that those aren’t good. 

But she doesn’t know what could have happened. A headache wouldn’t cause this, and you were fine yesterday. You had played the full 90 and scored two goals against the Canadian team. You had been totally fin- oh. 

Andi’s thoughts screech to a halt. In the 91st minute, you had gone in for a header and had been instead met with the goalie’s fist. You had landed on your feet though, and you seemed okay. There had only been a few minutes of injury time left, and the ref had waved off the medics and resumed play. 

By the time that the final whistle blew, it seemed that everyone had forgotten about your injury. The medics didn’t come or pull you aside in the locker room, Coach had been too busy doing whatever he does to check in on you. And your teammates had been distracted with celebrating the win to remember that you had taken a serious knock. The only person who seemed to remember was the goalie, who had asked mainly out of guilt if you were fine. 

(of course, the fans remembered. when you were finally cleared to use screens, you would see edits of you being hit and then swaying on the pitch as everyone forgot about you. not how you wanted to go viral.)

No one had noticed that you had skipped out on the celebrations to go to bed once you had returned to the hotel. The only person who had any clue that something was wrong had told you off for lying. No one even knew until you hit the ground. 

[sicktember]

While waiting for the Sicktember 2024, June 15th reveal, check out these past prompts and collections for inspiration!

Sicktember 2023 - 2021 Past Prompts and Collections

💚2023 💚

[AO3 Collection]

Prompts List ⬇

1. Hopelessly Bad at Self-Care

2. Quest for a Cure

3. “What happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh?”

4. Hiding an Illness

5. Preventative Measures (Not Taken)

6. Sick and Injured

7. “You’re a Jerk When You’re Sick”

8. Persistent Fever

9. White Coat Syndrome

10. “The only place we’re going is to the pharmacy”

11. Beginner’s Guide to Faking Sick

12. Old Wives Tale

13. Anxious Stomach

14. ‘‘I shouldn’t be worried about you, but for some reason I am’’

15. Sick in an Inconvenient Place

16. Consulting the Internet/Web MD

17. Magical Remedy/Healing Potion

18. “Wear Your Coat, You’ll Catch a Cold”

19. Curled Up With a Pet

20. Cramping Pain

21. “But if you stay, you’ll get sick too”

22. Terms of Endearment/Nicknames

23. Coughing Fit

24. “Did you just sneeze?”

25. Confused/Disoriented

26. Pink Eye/Conjunctivitis

27. Uncooperative Patient

28. “I should have stayed home”

29. Side Effects/Adverse Reaction

30. Patient 0

2023 Alternate Prompts

Alt. 1.“I Could Really Use a Hug Right About Now”

Alt. 2. Fuzzy Socks

Alt. 3. Pounding Headache

Alt. 4. Forehead Kisses

Alt. 5. “I’m so sorry”

💚2022💚

[AO3 Collection]

Prompt List ⬇

1. ‘Do You Know How To Take Care of a Sick Person?’

2.  Homesick

3.  Painkillers

4.  Hangover

5.  'Great. Now I Have Your Germs All Over Me.’

6.  Sick on vacation

7.  A cry for attention

8.  Intense coddling

9.  Home remedy

10. Excessive use of tissues/ ‘Blow Your Nose’

11. Emergency Room/ Ambulance

12. Psychogenic Fever/Stress Induced Illness

13. Seasonal/Pet Allergies

14. ‘I Might Be A Teeny Tiny Bit Sick, But It’s Fine.’' 

15. Frostbite/Sunburn

16. Care Package

17. Syncope/Fainting

18. Nausea/Upset Stomach

19. Whining/Crying 

20.  Cold Sweat

21. ‘Does this look infected to you?’

22. Common Cold/Flu

23. Tepid Bath

24. ‘I Need You To Pull Over!’

25. Acid Reflux/Heartburn

26. Tickle in the Throat

27. Sleepless Night/s

28. Chronic Illness

29. Lethargy/Exhaustion

30. ‘Get Back in Bed!’ 

2022 Alternate Prompts:

Alt. 1. Soft Pajamas

Alt. 2. Vapor Rub

Alt. 3. Cuddling on the Couch

Alt. 4. Taking a Sick Day

Alt. 5. ‘Can You Be Brave For Me?’

💚2021💚

[AO3 Collection]

Prompt List ⬇

1. Fever

2. Persistent Cough/Sniffling.

3. Chicken Pox/Rash 

4. Headache/Migraine

5. Comfort Item (Plush/Blanket)

6. Nebulizer

7. Sneaky Temperature Check

8. Contagious

9. I’m Not Sick

10. Medicine/Injection

11. Bed Rest

12. Faking it

13. Appendicitis

14. Aches and Pains

15. Quarantine 

16. Hot Water Bottle

17. Ginger Ale and Crackers

18. Fever Dream/Hysteria

19. Addiction

20. Doctor’s Visit/Check Up

21. Unlikely Caregiver

22. Toothache

23. Ear Infection

24. Sneezing

25. Sick at School/Work

26. Strep Throat/Laryngitis

27. Blankets

28. Missing Out 

29. Motion Sickness

30. Food poisoning/Allergy

2021 Alternative Prompts:

Alt. 1:  Warm Soup

Alt. 2:  Too Many Layers

Alt. 3:  Vitamin C

Alt. 4:  Stay

Alt. 5:  Asleep on the Couch

[darl-ingfics]

Sicktember Day 11: ALT - "I didn't mean to wake you up."

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie: Vernon (stomach flu), Joshua + Dino (regular flu)

Caregiver(s): Joshua, Dino

Word Count: 1,953

As he trudged through the door of the dorm behind the rest of the hip hop unit, Vernon believed he had never truly felt this tired before. The week had been excruciatingly long. Seventeen had been asked to attend a collaboration stage with a handful of other artists on Saturday, which had been derailed when over half of them had gone down with the flu. Or, to put it more specifically, two separate flu viruses that had assaulted them from all sides. No one had thought much of it when Seungcheol had made the decision to send Seokmin home on Monday with a cough and low-grade fever, and still didn’t after lunch when Mingyu barely made it to the trash can before throwing up. It was overwork, exhaustion. Or at least it was until Seungcheol had to run out of the subsequent meeting with their management team to avoid throwing up in the room with them. It was at that point that everyone (members, managers, EVERYONE) realized something bigger was going on, and subsequent tests revealed that, while all three members had the flu, the virus infecting the two rappers was different from the vocalist. 

But that hardly mattered when everyone knew they were in for a rough week.

The group had been picked off one by one until only five healthy members remained on Friday: Jeonghan, Soonyoung, Wonwoo, Seungkwan, and Vernon. Their managers considered cancelling their appearance on Saturday, but Jeonghan (acting leader) and Hoshi (actively leading also) had convinced them to just send BSS, since both Soonyoung nor Seungkwan had been spared thus far, and Seokmin, as one of the first to get sick, was starting to turn the corner and argued he’d be healthy enough to get back out there if they pumped him with meds the morning of. They had, of course, been taking measures to keep the last healthy members as germ-free as possible. So their managers reluctantly agreed. But their hopes were ended with Soonyoung throwing up at 2am Saturday morning, and Seungkwan spiking a fever at 7. And because it was too late to back out now, the group chosen to represent Seventeen had been the hip hop team, since neither Seungcheol nor Mingyu had thrown up for 48 hours, and Wonwoo and Vernon hadn’t been sick at all.

The performance had been perfect. There was nothing better than sharing the stage with their colleagues, combining talents and seeing their fans eat up the interactions. 

What was less perfect was the dull throbbing assaulting Vernon’s brain. As each song wore on, it became harder and harder to ignore the pounding in his skull, the pulsing at his temples. He started to feel claustrophobic in his own skin; the sweat pouring down his face, sticking his hair to the nape of his neck, adhering his clothes to his body, was agonizing. 

Even more agonizing was that Vernon immediately knew he was getting sick. There was nothing he could do about it now. Except pray he hadn’t caught the stomach bug. 

Thankfully, the rest of his bandmates didn’t seem to pay much mind to his listless silence on their journey home. Wonwoo was usually quiet after performances, recharging his social battery, and the other two clearly weren’t back to a hundred percent yet, so everyone was mercifully quiet and lost in their own thoughts on the drive back. Vernon certainly appreciated their distraction to hide his own condition, but at the same time, he had nothing to distract him from the growing pressure in his abdomen. But he could, and definitely was, owing that to the placebo effect. 

When they arrived home, they were met by a welcoming party in the living room. 

“Hey superstars!” Jeonghan smiled brightly from his spot on the chair with Chan wrapped around his abdomen, (Vernon didn’t have the energy to figure out how Chan was doing that, but knew that an unwell Chan wanted nothing more than to curl into one chosen hyung’s body and not let go, so he figured physics didn’t apply to him.) Jun waved from one of the couches, but the effect was dimmed since it was only one hand waving from around Minghao’s head, as the younger dancer was slumped against Jun’s left shoulder while Jihoon’s head was pillowed on his right thigh.

At Jeonghan’s words, Soonyoung’s head appeared from the back of the other couch, hair smushed up and face red with the pattern of the throw pillow. “How’d it go?”

Seungcheol chuckled adoringly, rubbing Soonyoung’s cheek. “Fantastic.” The dancer captain nodded contentedly before falling back against the couch. Vernon smiled in spite of the horrible feeling in his gut, moving quickly away from his members to escape into the void of sleep. If he could just fall asleep right now, maybe he could avoid the inevitable. 

As Vernon hurried to his room, his feet automatically stopped outside a closed door. There was only one thing he wanted as much as, if not more than, sleep. Vernon considered the handle carefully, then tapped twice. There was no response. So he pushed it open. The hall light fell on the bed, on a deeply asleep Joshua’s arms already wrapped around Seungkwan. Vernon’s heart sank. Both of them looked so peaceful, yet so obviously ill, so in need of this sleep. Vernon wasn’t selfish enough to take the few steps to awaken his chosen comfort person. He closed the door with the gentlest click possible, and scurried to his own room, rubbing tears out of his eyes with a mix of frustration and embarrassment. 

***

Vernon had been able to sleep for all of an hour before his body decided enough was enough. He awoke to the worst pressure he’d ever felt in his abdomen, a tangled, cramping pain as if there were a monster writhing beneath his skin. His head was pounding worse than before. His skin was clammy and sweaty and too tight. He was going to throw up. And soon. 

There were no memories between the moment he woke up and the moment he was in the bathroom, emptying the contents of his stomach. In fact, Vernon would very much like to not be present in this moment at all. The churning in his stomach, the horrifying, acidic feeling of bile in his throat, the loss of control, the desire to instantly clean everything… Vernon would rather suffer anything else than vomiting. 

He had no idea how long he’d been in the bathroom, how many times he’d lurched over the toilet, when a hand, ever-so-gentle, was placed on his back, right between his shoulder blades. And, try as he did, Vernon couldn’t stop his muscles from tensing, an automatic, uncontrollable response of ‘get the fuck off me.’ A sign that his body knew exactly what it wanted and would reject anything else. 

And his attempted comforter knew it too. The hand withdrew, only to be replaced by the softest of grips on both of his shoulders as Chan’s voice whispered in his ear, soft as honey: “It’s okay. I’m getting Shua.”

As Chan’s soft footsteps retreated, Vernon hung his head in defeat and felt tears threatening. This was the very last thing he wanted, to be a burden to others. Now he’d likely insulted and hurt Chan by rejecting his help, and Chan was going to wake Joshua, who was also sick and needed his sleep, and the roiling of his stomach had yet to stop, and both Joshua and Chan would probably stay up to take care of him, which was the worst possible outcome in all of this, not to mention how horrific his entire body was feeling at the moment, and…

Vernon’s brain stopped completely when gentle hands wound around his abdomen, and he was enveloped in a cloud-soft hug from behind. The contact, the only thing his body wanted, opened the floodgates that had threatened for the past hour, and he let out an unrestrained sob.

“Oh, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Joshua asked, his grip tightening ever so slightly to calm the sobbing without upsetting the rapper’s fragile stomach. 

“I don’t feel good,” Vernon cried. 

Joshua clicked his tongue. “Oh, Sollie. It’s gonna be okay, baby.” Vernon sobbed again, falling back into Joshua’s arms. “Have you thrown up?” Vernon nodded. Another sympathetic tongue click. “I know you hate that.” One hand left Vernon’s stomach and pushed his hair back from his forehead. The other stayed firmly in place over his abdomen, the warmth already soothing the pain there. Vernon closed his eyes as he nodded again. “Think it’s gonna happen again?” Instead of nodding, Vernon’s face screwed shut with another round of tears, prompting Joshua’s finger to smooth over his cheeks. “Oh, sweetie, I know. I know. It’s gonna be ok-ay…” The elder broke off coughing, leaning away and retracting his hand to bury his face in his sleeve. Vernon whined against his will as Joshua’s fingers left his face, and his eyes swam with new tears, this time with guilt at his selfishness. It was only a moment before the fingers were back in his hair. “Sollie, it’s okay.” 

“I’m sorry…”

“Hey, hey, none of that.” 

“You shouldn’t be here…”

“Honey, please…”

“Hyung, you’re so sick too, I can’t…”

Joshua’s hands cupped Vernon’s face, gentle but firm. “Chwe Hansol, listen to me. It is one in the morning. You are in a heap on the bathroom floor, throwing up, which is something you fear with a burning passion. You need to focus on you. I will be fine. I am going to sit here with you until you are ready to go back to bed, and then I’m gonna stay with you until you fall asleep. Got it?” 

Vernon’s answer was to collapse forward against Joshua, face buried in the older man’s shoulder and arms scrambling for purchase around his waist. Joshua couldn’t wrap his arms back around him fast enough. 

They had been sitting like that, Joshua rocking them back and forth, for an indefinite amount of time when Vernon heard a whispered, “How can I help?” He squirmed enough to see that it was Chan, leaning in the doorway, looking incredibly young. Vernon felt like crying again for rejecting the younger’s help earlier. 

“Can you grab us a water, please?” Joshua replied quietly. “Maybe a damp towel too?”

“Of course.” The younger man sprang forward, pulling a clean wash cloth from the cabinet below the sink and dowsing it with water. He handed the cloth to Joshua before disappearing into the hallway. 

“Okay, love, I need to sit back just a bit, there we go.” The older man pressed the damp cloth to Vernon’s forehead, smoothing the damp material across his overheated skin, cradling both cheeks and the nape of his neck. Vernon’s eyes slipped closed. 

“Thank you, Shua,” he slurred. 

“Anytime, love.” 

Vernon didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep sitting up until he was jostled awake, hands tugging at both of his arms to try and stand him up. He pushed himself to his feet, only stumbling a little bit as his knees shook from sitting on them too long. His supports (Joshua and Chan, of course), wrapped his arms around their shoulders as they led him back to his bed. Vernon crawled under the waiting covers, his entire body sighing with relief at the soft surface of his bed after the cold discomfort of the bathroom floor. He settled further when he felt Chan slide into the bed against his back, Joshua climbing in on his other side. 

This was all he’d wanted. Warm and content, safe with his best friends in the entire world, Vernon let sleep pull him under once more.