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whats-k-popping · 1 year

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Summary: When he opens their bedroom door, he's hit by a pungent rotten acidic smell. It flips his own stomach and makes him put his knuckles over his lips. The smell is reminiscent of vomit, and his stomach instantly desires similar release. His disdain for his boyfriend vanishes immediately. He buries his own ill misery, replacing it with worry for his younger partner.

Pairing: Woosan (NonIdol AU) - established relationship

Words: 3511

Warnings: Emeto || Graphic Descriptions of Vom!ting || Fever || Fake Illness

Wooyoung has been planning this for weeks. A lot of time and research and actual money has gone into pulling off probably the greatest prank of their couples vlogging career. This specific prank seems to be trending right now, as he's seeing all the other couples they follow posting similar videos- "pranking my boyfriend by pretending to sick" and "will my boyfriend take care of me when I'm sick?" He binge watched all of them and found the content to be very cute. Even the gentle scoldings after the prank is revealed.

And in typical Wooyoung fashion, he wants to show off how abundantly caring his boyfriend is to the whole world. Or to their 307k subscribers anyway. After all, it was his idea to start the channel. And he puts the most effort into making the videos, editing the footage and adding effects. So with San away on a business trip, he sets the plan into motion.

He researches the best way to fake symptoms, leading him to the purchase of a thermometer that always reads a fever and a grotesque recipe for fake vomit. He hoards dryer lint, knowing it makes him sniffly and sings loudly in their empty apartment, intending to make his voice hoarse.

San hasn't told him what time his flight leaves, only that he'll "be back Friday morning." Wooyoung pouted and complained at that answer, but San stood his ground. He probably wants it to be a surprise. Well, two can play at that game. He sets everything up the night before San's anticipated return. He doesn't want to risk anything spoiling his prank. Pranking is his speciality.

He's got a box of tissues, medicine packets, bottled water, and the prank thermometer sitting on his bedside table. Hiding under the bed are a mist bottle of warm water and the jar of fake vomit. He's even set a bucket next to the bed and poured some of the fake vomit into it to really sell that he's been sick for a while. It smells terrible. It's perfect.

And of course, he camouflages the camera in the far corner of their room, angling the lense toward their shared bed to capture the exact moment San walks in and finds him ill.

He's already filmed his whole preparation process, ensuring to keep his viewers in on the prank. He's even started editing that footage already. All that's left is to really play the part. He puts on his fluffiest pajamas (keeping his baggie of dryer lint in the chest pocket for easy access) and settles into bed, ready for his plan to unfold.

He sleeps peacefully through the night, but startles awake at the sound of San's obnoxiously loud keychain jostling on his hip. Usually, he hates the thing. But for today's purposes, he's thankful that San chooses to sound like a human tambourine everywhere he goes. When he hears the door to their apartment unlatch, he quickly pulls the mist bottle out from under the bed. He sprays some around his sheets and some on his face before throwing it back under the bed. He starts rolling the camera, then quickly lays back down, ready for San to find him.

San sighs heavily as he lets himself into the apartment. He rips off his coat, feeling uncomfortably warm in his only layer aside from a loose-fitting t-shirt. He kicks off his shoes and abandons his luggage by the door, not even caring to unpack. He just wants to crawl into bed, ideally snuggled up beside his boyfriend.

He'd started feeling unwell the second day of the trip. He originally blamed it on the foreign food, but the more his symptoms progress, he thinks that maybe his seatmate on his departure flight wasn't just pale due to air sickness like he'd originally assumed.

It was a hellish trip, but he was able to maintain productivity in order to return Friday, like he had promised. And was rewarded with a few days off. He'd originally planned to spend those days spoiling Wooyoung. Now he thinks he'll use them to recover from whatever illness his immune system failed to prevent.

But no use dwelling on it further. He's finally home. Instead he shuffles his way to the bedroom, barely having the energy to lift his feet. He notices that the apartment is mostly unkempt. Dishes unwashed, belongings out of place, trash peeking out over the rim of the receptacle. He scoffs at the sight, mentally cursing the man he calls his boyfriend. He knows the younger isn't much for housework, but he wonders what's been keeping him so busy he couldn't load the dishwasher. Hopefully, once Wooyoung sees how sick he is, he'll clean it up. Otherwise, it will be left in disarray until he feels better.

When he opens their bedroom door, he's hit by a pungent rotten acidic smell. It flips his own stomach and makes him put his knuckles over his lips. The smell is reminiscent of vomit, and his stomach instantly desires similar release. His disdain for his boyfriend vanishes immediately. He buries his own ill misery, replacing it with worry for his younger partner.

San swallows thickly, taking large strides to Wooyoung curled up so small under the covers. He takes in the scene of obvious illness that's settled around the room, side-eying the sick bucket on the floor as the source of the unpleasant smell.

He gently brushes Wooyoung's bangs away to feel his forehead. He's not noticeably warm, but sweat coats his face and their bedsheets. Relief washes over him, thinking he must have already sweat the fever out.

Despite San's touch being feather-light, Wooyoung starts to stir and open his eyes, slowly of course to remain in-character. "Baby, you're home." Wooyoung's voice is perfectly hoarse, all according to plan. Still, he tacks on a chesty cough for effect.

"I just got back," San strokes along the younger's hairline. "Is my Wooyoungie not feeling very well?"

Wooyoung just shakes his head with a pout, adding a few shivers. San responds by pulling the blanket up to his chin. "How was your trip?" The younger asks.

San smiles at his sick dongsaeng, ruffling his hair. "Business as usual" is his simple reply. Leaving out all the bits of his own experiences with illness. "I'll tell you all about it when you're feeling better."

"Kay," Wooyoung yawns, nuzzling himself closer to San.

The smell of the bucket beside the bed demands his attention. The effect the putrid odor has on him is becoming too hard to ignore. His stomach gurgles and bubbles in anger the longer he's crouched beside it. "Baby, I'm going to wash this out okay? Do you think you'll need it anytime soon?" When Wooyoung shakes his head, San grabs the bucket holding it far away from his face and rushes to the bathroom.

He pours the contents into the toilet bowl and flushes all in one quick motion. While he's filling the bucket with water, he uses the sound of the running tap to mask his own gagging. He spits up a mouthful of sick he easily recognizes as the in-flight meal he begrudgingly stomached a few hours ago into the toilet and grimaces. Airline food hardly looks good the first time, but the second time is menacing.

But he doesn't have time to wallow in his own disgust. Not when Wooyoung needs him. He takes a few deep breaths and shakes out the fog from his head. Taking a long look in the mirror, he tries to convince himself it's jetlag. He hopes he could convince Wooyoung, too, should the younger notice his pallor. He flushes his own sick and brings the rinsed bucket back to the bedroom.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung is exacerbating his own symptoms with a smug smile of success. In San's absence, he not only refreshes the misting he'd applied earlier, but also takes a long whiff of the dryer lint in his pocket. The reaction was almost immediate. He's a watery-eyed, sniffling mess when San returns with the bucket.

San sets the bucket aside and sits on the edge of the bed. He plucks a tissue from the conveniently placed box and starts dabbing the younger's waterline. "What hurts, jagiya?"

"Everything," Wooyoung whimpers in such a pitiful way, he thinks he deserves an Oscar for his performance.

"I'm sorry you weren't feeling well and I wasn't here," he wants to lean over and comfort Wooyoung with a soft kiss, but he doesn't want to further compromise the younger's immune system by introducing new germs. Or vice versa. He settles for scalp scratches, which Wooyoung leans into. "You just rest, hyung will take good care of you now."

"Thank you, Sannie." Wooyoung coos as he starts to drift off.

San eyes the thermometer on the side table and it seemingly reminds him. "Don't fall asleep just yet, let me take your temperature first." He pleads, and Wooyoung opens his mouth obediently.

When the thermometer reads 39.2 degrees, San's eyes widen like saucers. Wooyoung hadn't felt that warm. But he resolves that maybe he's sporting a fever and it's making Wooyoung feel cooler to touch. "You’re burning. I'm going to get you a cool cloth," he rushes off with the thermometer in hand.

In the bathroom again he rinses the thermometer and sticks it under his own tongue. When it beeps, he reads 39.0 degrees. Wooyoung still has a higher fever. So he needs more attention. He returns with a bowl of ice water and a washcloth. He takes good care to ring it out and places it carefully on Wooyoung's head.

"Rest up, now. I'll fix you something to eat, then you can take medicine and have a shower. The bedsheets need to be changed anyway." San dictates a pretty organized plan, though he has low hopes of the success rate.

"Choi San, my guardian angel," Wooyoung slurs with a thick sniffle. "I love you," he puckers his lips expectantly.

"I love you too." San resists the urge again to kiss his sickly boyfriend. Instead he pats Wooyoung's thigh and exits the bedroom. Their living room futon has never looked more inviting. He throws himself onto it, completely spent.

He wants to be the doting boyfriend Wooyoung deserves him to be. But his own illness is catching up to him disapointingly quickly. With Wooyoung napping, he's bought himself time to rest. He thinks about cooking something, but the thought of being around food enrages his stomach. And his head feels trapped in a thick fog. He can't guarantee his own safety in the kitchen.

So he opens the delivery app on his phone and orders some comfort foods to be dropped off at the door. As soon as he sees the confirmation screen, his eyes slip closed entering into a restless sleep.

Alone in the bedroom, Wooyoung is feeling a little disappointed. San is doing a great job at taking care of him. He's unknowingly showing off his gentler, domestic side to their fans. But there's been a severe lack of cuddling. San didn't even kiss him in greeting. San always kisses him after a business trip, to make up for all the missed kisses while he was away. He even rejected Wooyoung's kiss request. Physical touch is Wooyoung's primary love language. And San's not being very physical affectionate.

In their four years together, Wooyoung has gotten sick more times than he can count. And without fail San had always cuddled with him. San never withheld kisses out of fear for his own health. San never ever left him alone to nap. The thought flickers through his mind that San is onto his trick, but he dismisses it. Impossible, he's been in-character the whole time. He just needs to up the ante for more attention.

He uncovers the hidden jar of fake vomit, ready to draw back San's attention. He opens the lid. And after a few wet sounding coughs, he loudly pours the contents into the empty bucket. The sound echoes, and the stench of the chunky liquid is even worse after a night of fermenting. The acid smell almost makes his eyes water. But at least the next few coughs are real, gagging on the stench. It helps make the whole presentation more believable.

San wakes to the sound of liquid hitting plastic, and jumps up when he hears Wooyoung coughing. It doesn't take long for him to piece the two together, despite his fevered haze. And he's in the bedroom before he even realizes his legs moved. He sees Wooyoung cradling the bucket in his lap, face over the rim and spitting into it. His breathing is ragged, exhausted.

"Hyung," Wooyoung whimpers, "I threw up again. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

The whole experience is too much for San's senses. The smell turns his stomach, Wooyoung's high pitched voice which he usually loves rattles a new headache. He suddenly feels too hot and too cold at the same time, feels a fat bead of sweat drip toward his brow. But Wooyoung needs him.

He takes two clumsy steps before he bends at the waist, vomiting whatever’s left in his stomach onto the foot of their bed.

For the first time, Wooyoung breaks character. San's never been one to get sympathy sick. So Wooyoung immediately knows it’s an expression of illness. He spares a millisecond glance to the camouflaged camera before rounding the bed, grabbing San before he collapses into his own mess.

"Wooyoung," San sputters, a line of saliva dangling from his lips. Wooyoung's arms are wrapped around his waist, the only thing keeping him upright. He tries to pull himself away, using the edge of the bed for support. "Get back in bed. I'm okay."

"No you're not, hyung. You just threw up." Wooyoung is not the strongest, but he has no trouble escorting San to his side of the bed. He gets San to lean against the headboard, away from the vomit stain. "Will you throw up again?" Before San has a chance to answer, the younger walks over to pick up the bucket filled with his fake vomit just in case.

San lets out a belch as the smell wafts before him, but it's dry and unproductive. He shakes his head at the question, assumingly empty, and turns his nose away from the foul smelling bucket. He's convinced he'll feel better once it's gone.

Wooyoung takes the hint and sets the bucket aside to be cleaned later. He presses the back of his hand to the older's forehead. "Sannie, you're burning up!"

"It's jetlag," he scripts despite how ridiculous it sounds. When Wooyoung doesn’t budge, he quickly changes tactics. "You're sick too. You shouldn't be worrying about me."

There's a lump in Wooyoung's throat and a guilty look in his eye. This wasn't how he'd envisioned the content to turn out. This wasn't how he wanted to reveal the prank. He feels real nausea from the guilt, but fights it back and confronts the truth, "I'm actually not sick, Sannie." His cheeks flood red with embarrassment, "I wanted to do a prank video. For our channel."

"But the vomit?"

"It's just a combination of vinegar, milk, and bread."

"I took your temperature. You were over 39 degrees."

"The thermometer isn't accurate. I bought it for the prank." Wooyoung scurries off to the bathroom and San notices there's not a falter to his step. He comes back with their actual thermometer. He puts the tip in his ear and waits for the beep. "See, 36.9."

San still looks unconvinced. "The sniffling," Wooyoung exposes the lint baggie. "And the sweating," Wooyoung presents the mist bottle.

San's eyes widen, then sharpen into a glare as he scans the room for the camera. He catches a small glimpse of a reflective surface tucked into their accent plant and points at it. "How long have you been filming?"

Wooyoung's head hangs in shame. He fidgets with his fingers in his lap, unsure of anything else to do with them. Instinct kicks in and he wants to put his hands on San, but he’s sure the older doesn’t want that right now. "Since you got home."

San pouts. He's exhausted as his illness settles in. He craves Wooyoung's nurturing. But he's simultaneously angry at Wooyoung for needlessly worrying him. It's a war inside his head that brings a pulsing pain with each new thought. "I'm going to take a shower." He throws his legs over the edge of the bed, squinting his eyes as dizziness sweeps over him.

"Do you need my help?" Wooyoung offers, also noticing that San is in no condition to escort himself. Out of habit, he wraps an arm around San's shoulders to support him. But San just shrugs him off, hoisting himself off the bed and slowly making his way to their bathroom. Wooyoung takes the hint, despite how much it hurts. He gives San space.

While San's in the shower, Wooyoung tidies the bedroom. He removes the soiled bed sheets and replaces them with a fresh pair. He discards his props, and sets up San's night stand with the necessities. Amidst the chores, Wooyoung hears their doorbell and finds the food San had ordered hanging from the handle. The blonde smiles at the two containers of samgyetang.

San emerges from the bathroom dressed in his comfy lounge wear. He doesn't smell vomit when he enters the bedroom, which is a relief. The bedding is changed, turned down on his side, and he settles right in. Wooyoung had everything set up for him. There's medicine on the nightstand. The bucket has been cleaned again and set down for emergencies. And their real thermometer is leaning against his reading lamp. The only thing missing is Wooyoung.

Maybe Wooyoung really left him alone to take care of himself. He knows Wooyoung would never do that, but the thought still stings. He curls up under the covers and tells himself that Wooyoung didn't do anything wrong. He tells himself that Wooyoung wouldn’t have tried to prank him if he’d known. He convinces himself not to be mad at his best friend. He even blames himself for not telling Wooyoung he’d gotten sick during the trip. Thinking about it nearly pulls him to tears.

Wooyoung enters the room slowly, carrying a lap tray. "Do you mind if I come in?" He asks cautiously from the doorway. San, nearly on the verge of sleep, perks up at the sound of Wooyoung's voice. "If you need time, I get it. I just want to make sure you eat something. You won’t feel better on an empty stomach." The small laugh that follows is the most awkward sound San has ever heard.

"Come here," the older encourages, scooting a bit to make room for Wooyoung.

Wooyoung tries not to feel too excited as he carries the tray inside. He's still feeling guilty about how everything turned out. He needs to make amends. He sets the tray off to the side and sits on the bed. "I'm so sorry, Sannie-hyung. I didn't mean to overwork you. What can I do to make it up to you?"

San shuffles under covers, a mischievous look on his face. He nudges Wooyoung with his knee until he falls off the edge landing with a thud on the ground. The older chuckles a bit at the pout on Wooyoung's face. It makes him feel just a little bit better. Reminds him of why he loves the high-maintenance blonde. "You can start by taking care of me," he shivers, "I’m too tired to stay mad at you.”

Wooyoung hops off the floor and climbs beside San is the bed, cuddling him and playing with his hair. He leaves feather light kisses against his boyfriend's warm forehead. "Of course I'll take care of you, Sannie. You're in good hands."

San hums in content, closing his eyes and nuzzling into Wooyoung's chest. "Can I keep filming? I want all of our fans to know that I can take really good care of you, too." Wooyoung asks, eyeing the discrete camera that's already captured the whole altercation.

San smirks. Wooyoung always bounces back so quickly. It's an endearing quality. "As long as you include the earlier footage of you apologizing to me for faking."

Wooyoung is never too proud to admit his mistakes. Another endearing quality. "Guess we'll split this episode into two parts then." He looks at the camera, then at San again. The older nuzzles close to him. Wooyoung reaches for the bowl without disturbing San’s position. When Wooyoung holds out the full spoon, San just opens his mouth expectantly.

San eats half the bowl before he can’t stomach any more. He starts to doze off, so Wooyoung quickly gets him to take a dose of medicine. San’s compliant as ever, ready to snuggle up with Wooyoung and sleep until he feels better. Wooyoung whispers, not enough for the camera to hear, "Just rest now. I'll be right here." San believes him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: A woosan fic, as promised. Though I must admit, not the one I was working on when I first said I was writing one. I found a new guilty pleasure and had to write a fic about it. I'll be the first to admit I'm not totally satisfied with it. I've been fidgeting with this fic for weeks. I feel rusty after not writing anything for so long. But hopefully getting back into it will help me regain my confidence. So let's see how this goes.

As always, thanks for reading to the end! I really appreciate each and every one of you who make it this far! Feedback is always appreciated. And please let me know if I missed any tags or TWs. Please call me out for any errors you notice!

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