tsh fanfic inspired by the fanfiction munchausens dilemma (i cant find it anymore) draft
with irritation and amusement. The discovery repulsed him a little but
Richard was not the only one who could lie and deceive. henry was not unfamiliar with syrup of ipecac, having been quite physically resilient as a child, and on experiencing sicknesses that called for vomiting, laid with nausea instead and needed to be helped along. He dosed from the cap then and there, knew he'd be shaking on going to the kitchen to get a spoon, knew he had to do this now or lose his nerve. God, Richard, how do you...?
He saw the appeal. There was no turning back now, if emergency struck, he was well and truly out for the count -- he couldnt do a thing. It was frightening, and so away from his usual territory but whether he gave himself over or not, he knew he was essentially helpless then.
He lay staring at his ceiling. Who knew if Richard would even come home on time to be present for all this. He thought he'd be catching Richard in the act but he realised then, that perhaps he was just making a mess of himself pointlessly. He was not unfamiliar with bouts of acute illness and pain himself, Richard tried to help but he shut him out, not wanting to be seen this way. To Henry, the nausea of stomach upset was child's play, at this point and he wanted to gauge Richard's reaction, sadistically get some kind of payback for having been taken advantage of for nearly a month now.
But it wasn't as if he hadn't enjoyed himself. While being fooled, it was rather pleasant to find Richard helpless and perfectly willing to fall on his arm, baring himself completely and trusting Henry absolutely. Richard must certainly be of the mind that he was somewhat indebted to Henry for all the care he'd given him over this time, and he was. Henry shifted uncomfortably on the bed.
Somehow, despite the discomfort that had been mounting, Henry had drifted into sleep, light but peaceful, falling into a dream disrupted by footsteps and the creaking of a door. As Henry came to he felt his nausea peak. "God, Richard," he said, head hung and jaw tight with the pain in his stomach. He watched his puzzled friend peer at him. "What's going on?" Richard asked.
"I feel awful. My stomach, I think I'm getting sick."
Richard looked shifty and uncomfortable. "I don't feel all that well either."
"Really?" Henry asked with false incredulity. A wave of aggravation had taken over him. A sheen of sweat prickled over his nose and he gritted his teeth at a wave of nausea and stomach pain, these currently being in a (?of) secondary irritation to him. "Perhaps it's catching."
"I'm not sure, I think you ought to see a doctor to be sure... You really do look quite bad."
"I'll wait it out here." With a wince and an inward hiss, "you're here."
He'd meant to allude to the fact that Richard had studied medicine, that if things got really bad Richard could drive him to the hospital... but that tinge of desperation in his voice hadn't gone unnoticed by Henry, and given the type of person Richard was he was certain it hadn't gotten past him either.
This combination of induced weakness and the choice to let someone in while it overtook him, place himself in someone's hands, it was alien and seductive.
The sense of urgency born of pain -he was always self serving when he was sick, knowing he knew best what was good for him, not holding himself to his usual standards, letting himself slack, be lazy, be messy, because he knew he had to, had no choice but to, doing whatever he needed to save himself from long term and permanent damage- there was always something freeing about it, he never felt guilt or a sense of obligation in these bouts of migraine, knowing he was indisposed regardless.
But this sickness business was alien... having decided to put himself in Richards hands, burden him for a change, see how he likes it, watch him squirm ...Henry realised he actually felt needy. He'd felt angry when Richard had told him to seek medical advice from the get go. Aren't you going to look after me? God knew Henry had tended to Richard like a nurse. And enjoyed doing it.
After a long pause Richard agreed. "Alright, I'll stay and look after you." He said, with an undertone of both light mocking and fondness. "Please do." Henry realised he could justify all this, even to himself as playing up the act in his goal to confront Richard with his own selfish and disgusting actions, force a confession and apology out of him. His honor was at stake, he thought wryly as Richard placed a hand on his forehead. "Youre quite cold," he remarked. "I don't feel it..." Henry breathed.
"I'll get you some water, you just wait there."
Ah, this was more like it. Henry could get used to this. He was rather excited to settle down into this new role. He figured Richard might get something out of it too, if, after all of this there ended up being no shame induced confession. Perhaps it was already a silent agreement. Richard clearly enjoyed being taken care of, and was always flitting over Henry who had to waste energy and breath shooing him away during his migraines.
It was novel when Richard fluffed his pillow for him and lifted the glass to his lips. And it was jarring when Henry truly feared he might spill.
"Bathroom." He said by way of explanation as he haphazardly pushed himself up to standing with one arm pressed painfully into the bed, and stumbled to it, not yet willing to lean over and throw his guts into a wastepaper basket.
Richard followed, as Henry had taken to in the most recent instances of Richards onset munchausens made manifest, and smoothed his back as Henry let loose into the basin. Wildly, the latter thought, "I'm going to be sick, I'm going to be sick," like a mantra, even as the thing was happening. He guessed there was really no end to that. But even this was freeing. Richards gentle coos felt earned, he didn't raise a hand to end his platitudes or touches, rather, on completion of expelling his last three meals simply collapsed against the bowl, then, at a logical acknowledgement that this was even more vile than what he really wanted, collapsed into his friends lap.
"Ha..." Henry breathed quietly. What a wash that little experiment was. All his own failing. Well, not a total wash; whatever ailments Richard was suffering these days, he dealt with them discreetly.
/ i think this is just a repeat of the same section it wont let me delete it though completely unnecessary to read
After a long pause Richard agreed. "Alright, I'll stay and look after you." He said, with an undertone of both light mocking and fondness. "Please do." Henry realised he could justify all this, even to himself as playing up the act in his goal to confront Richard with his own selfish and disgusting actions, force a confession and apology out of him. His honor was at stake, he thought wryly as Richard placed a hand on his forehead. "Youre quite cold," he remarked. "I don't feel it..." Henry breathed.
"I'll get you some water, you just wait there."
Ah, this was more like it. Henry could get used to this. He was rather excited to settle down into this new role. He figured Richard might get something out of it too, if, after all of this there ended up being no shame induced confession. Perhaps it was already a silent agreement. Richard clearly enjoyed being taken care of, and was always flitting over Henry who had to waste energy and breath shooing him away during his migraines.
It was novel when Richard fluffed his pillow for him and lifted the glass to his lips. And it was jarring when Henry truly feared he might spill.
"Bathroom." He said by way of explanation as he haphazardly pushed himself up to standing with one arm pressed painfully into the bed, and stumbled to it, not yet willing to lean over and throw his guts into a wastepaper basket.
Richard followed, as Henry had taken to in the most recent instances of Richards onset munchausens made manifest, and smoothed his back as Henry let loose into the basin. Wildly, the latter thought, "I'm going to be sick, I'm going to be sick," like a mantra, even as the thing was happening. He guessed there was really no end to that. But even this was freeing. Richards gentle coos felt earned, he didn't raise a hand to end his platitudes or touches, rather, on completion of expelling his last three meals simply collapsed against the bowl, then, at a logical acknowledgement that this was even more vile than what he really wanted, collapsed into his friends lap.
"Ha..." Henry breathed quietly. What a wash that little experiment was. All his own failing. Well, not a total wash; whatever ailments Richard was suffering these days, he dealt with them discreetly.
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