Honestly I love buses and vans for motion sickness sickfic potential. They’re SO ROUGH sometimes compared to other common modes of transportation, they’re very bumpy and rattly and they really sway you side to side when they take turns. They’re a different beast from cars. If it’s a long ride it’s hard to fall asleep sometimes, too, because of how much they jostle you around. It’s just not a comfortable experience.
Character who doesn’t really ever get carsick but they have to ride in a bus or van of some sort for the first time in a while—and they realize halfway through that they’re actually starting to feel really bad. Like, motion sick in a way they almost never experience. Problems to follow.
The weather was turning a little chill, not enough a jacket was a necessity during the day, but enough that hot meals were picked for night. Chill enough the hospital cafeteria was serving soup and that was one of Jon's favorite meals, so... He muffled a thick belch in his hand, blushing even though he was alone in the car.
His stomach was gurgling, tight from him having seconds and then thirds. Leo wasn't gonna let him live it down, but hopefully his husband would be asleep by now. He was on the tail end of a cold and Jonah had been getting a week of midnight shifts.
He was so bloated and gassy, he had to wait outside their front door and muffle a string of belches, just in case Leo was asleep and the noise ended up walking him up. They were wet and when he pressed a hand to his stomach, a sloshy sound came up. Jonah groaned, pressing his forehead to the front door and the half bent position pushed up a gurgly burp, that fizzled out in his throat.
With a sigh, he unlocked the door. As a rule, Leo left the kitchen light on for him, even if he was in bed already. The rest of the apartment was dipped in darkness and there was no noise, not even the muffled murmur of a television playing in their bedroom or JD committing some crime. Jon bit down a frustrated sigh and tiptoed inside, leaving his bag on the couch and then collapsing there too.
He felt clammy and stuffed up to the gills. His pants were cutting into him, so he undid the fly and kicked off his shoes, leaning his head back and staring at the dark ceiling, as dinner churned and snarled in his stomach.
Jonah groaned, a wave of nausea hitting him, regret coating the back of his throat as he thought back on the goulash he had had. He could taste the paprika, as well as the wine that was added to it.
"Jon?" Leo yawned, the bedroom door opening and light spilling down the hallway. He couldn't see his husband properly, since the light was coming from behind him and bathing him in darkness, but Jonah could see the silhouetted of his hair sticking out everywhere, "Jon?"
"Hi," he called and Leo moved from their bedroom doorway, walking closer, a shadow serpentine between his legs, which was definitely JD trying to trip him.
"What-" the blonde yawned, rubbing his eyes, "what are you doing on the couch...?"
"The bed was too far away," Jonah answered, attempting to keep his voice steady and not let the nausea show. Although Leo was nearly perfectly healthy by now — even if he had whined that he had the plague during the morning — Jon didn't want to worry him over simply indigestion.
Leo huffed out a laugh, circling the couch so he was standing behind it and grabbing Jonah's hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head and then pulling him by the curls, forcing Jonah to stand up, "up, up, up-"
"Noo-OURpgh-" he tried to whine, but his stomach clenched and a burp came up instead, Jonah clamping a hand to his mouth as he muffled two others, shuddering as he was forced to swallow back down some of the soup that tried crawling up. Just thinking about the meal was getting him covered in goosebumps.
Leo scoffed, "your tummy is bothering you," he said, instead of asking and Jonah shook his head.
"Just gassy," he lied, causing Leo to squint at him. The tip of his nose was red from rubbing it all day with tissues and he looked exhausted, even though he had spent all of yesterday sleeping. No way Jonah was gonna burden Leo with his own poor decision making.
"Is that why you're in the living room?" Leo guessed, rolling his eyes and scanning the floor in search of their cat, "don't be ridiculous, you don't bother me."
Jonah wrinkled his nose in distaste, while Leo successfully hunted JD down and picked her up as if she was a baby, causing the cat to meow pitifully, asking to be let go. Instead of letting her go, Leo kissed her between the ears, pushing Jon's shoulder so they'd walk back to the bedroom.
Jonah felt clammy enough he didn't want to lie on the bed, especially not with work clothes, but he also felt so queasy the idea of staying on his feet was equally as bad.
"I'm gonna take a shower," he mumbled, against his will, while Leo curled up under the blankets, turning on his side to attempt to clean his bedside table. His side of the room was a mess, the bedside table littered with different medicine bottles — cough syrup, two different spoons because at some point Leo must've gotten a second one after forgetting he already had it, vicki rub, an empty tissue box, painkillers for his headache, pepto for his stomach because Leo had been rather nauseous from the fever, an empty mug, one of his law books, his phone and a ditched churu tube for JD — and the floor had his slippers, the three different sets of socks he had circled through as his fever climbed and then broke, several balls of tissue that had missed the waste basket.
Jonah walked inside the bathroom and squinted at the bright lights, hitting the switch and killing it entirely. He heard Leo laugh, "are you gonna shower in the dark?" and then break off coughing.
He did shower in the dark. Just a five minutes rinse, bracing against the tiled wall as he stared at the water swirling between his toes and tried to convince his dinner to stay down. His back hurt, from standing during surgery and at least the hot water was helping with that. Doing fuckall to the slimy feeling in his mouth and the way he couldn't stop burping.
He committed a capital sin of ditching brushing his teeth before bed, because even swishing water around his mouth caused him to gag, let alone a toothbrush.
Jonah dried down as quick as possible and wrapped himself up in the towel, stepping out of the bathroom and regretting the fact he hadn't brought his pajamas with him already-
"Oh," Jon couldn't help but smile, Leo had set aside his favorite set of pajamas for him, as well as socks and slippers. The room was neater, although still a mess. JD was sitting on top of Leo's chest as he played with her ears between his fingers, eyes drowsy as he stared at the TV on mute, "thank you, baby."
Leo smiled, but shrugged, letting out a happy sigh as Jon slipped into bed with him, "how was work?"
"Eh, the same," Jonah shifted, realizing there was no way he could lie fully down when the position promptly sent hot liquid up his throat. He gulped down, "how's the fever?"
Without waiting for a response, he pressed his palm to Leo's forehead, letting out a pleased noise when he didn't feel any abnormal heat, "and your throat?"
"Hurts," Leo leaned into his touch, sliding under the covers to press their bodies together, "cuddle me."
"So I can catch your bug?"
The blonde groaned dramatically, "you don't love me."
"Nope, not at all," Jonah teased him, scooting closer and propping himself up against the pillows, while Leo snugged on his side, so low on the bed his head was nearly on Jon's lap. He let out a happy noise as Jonah started playing with his head, letting go of JD as she squirmed and moved to the foot of the bed, curling up near their feet.
"Your tummy's making all sort of noi-Noises," Leo yawned, "what upset it so much?"
"Soup," Jonah's voice trembled on the last note, he gulped down at the memory, "what are we watching?" He needed to change subjects, if Leo asked anything else about the food he'd end up throwing up. It wasn't sitting well at all, simultaneously seeming to swirl inside of him an sitting like a brick. Well, it had been goulash, a type of soup both very creamy and heavy, with pieces of meat-
Jonah gagged, pressed a hand to his mouth and managed to turn it into a wet, disgusting belch.
"-I don't understand why she stays with him, he sucks," Leo was saying, completely oblivious, gesturing to the screen where a black and white show was playing. Jon gulped down, shuddering. He considered getting up and pulling the trigger, get it out of his system.
"Jon?" Leo sounded pouty now and Jonah realized a second too late he had left his husband talking all by himself.
"Sorry," he wipes his upper lip, the clamminess was back, "what- We're watching Bewitched?"
"I like Samantha," Leo shrugged, followed by a yawn. If Jonah managed to stay still and kept playing with his hair, Leo would be out like a lamp in under ten minutes, he was sure of it.
He tried, he really did. Jonah leaned his head back against the headboard and stared at the ceiling instead of the TV, continuing to pet Leo's hair as he gulped down. The nausea was coming in waves, some strong enough he had to grit his teeth and wonder if he'd need to jump out of the bed, some easy enough to ignore. His hair had gotten wet in the shower and there were droplets running down his back and inside his shirt.
Leo let out a deep huff, body becoming heavy against Jonah, and he knew the man was asleep. Normally Leo wasn't a snorer, but he could be pretty loud when he was congested and tonight was no different. Jon squirmed, a new wave of revulsion hitting him as he burped once more and could smell his dinner. His mouth watered and he gulped down, deciding to get up-
Leo had hooked his fingers on his pants, like some sort of cat, and Jon breathed slowly through his nose as he tried to free himself without waking the blonde up. No such luck, because as soon as he managed to get up, Leo sensed the bed shifting and opened his eyes.
"Jon....? Wh'reougoin'?" He slurred, sounding hurt, reaching out blindly.
Jonah couldn't answer, if he tried to speak he knew he was fucked. He gulped down, but this time it wasn't just the base level queasiness, he was actually gonna be sick. He bolted out of the room, barely making it to the toilet as the soup was aggressively rejected by his stomach.
The first wave was violent, choking him with the sheer volume and Jonah knew, in the back of his mind that he had made some sort of a mess, but he was too busy gagging over the bowl.
His stomach clenched once more, as his fingers fumbled with the seat, pushing it up too late. More vomit fell inside the toilet, chunky and smelling powerfully of red sauce and wine. Rotten. Just the thought had him heaving loudly, whole body arching with disgust.
"I knew you were acting weird," Leo scoffed and then the bathroom light was turned on and Jonah groaned at the brightness, closing his eyes to avoid looking at the mess. Most of the sick had landed in the bowl, but there was thick vomit covering the seat and a bit spilt on the floor next to it.
He gagged again and then felt Leo's hand on his forehead, guiding his head back over the bowl, just in time too as another large wave came up.
"Wow, that's a lot," Leo reached for the toilet paper, grabbing the whole roll, as Jon planted an elbow on the cold porcelain of the toilet and pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, holding its weight. His stomach was still far from settled, "here, angel, lemme-"
"No..." He reached in, taking the bunched up papers from Leo's hand and wiping his chin, throwing it inside the bowl, "go'back to bed... You're sick..."
"I'm sick?!" Leo asked, incredulous, looking pointedly to the mess, "shut up, Jonah. Here, blow your nose," he grabbed another wad of paper, now giving Jon some semblance of dignity by handing it to him, "was the food bad?"
"No," he scoffed, blowing his nose and leaning over the bowl to spit, gulping down as more threatened to come back up, "ate too much..."
"You?" Leo chuckled, surprised, getting up from his crouched down position and hitting the flush, "never thought I'd see the day."
"Shud'up," Jon drooled over the bowl, fingers curling on the roots of his hair as his stomach soured again, "gon'be sick'gain..."
"Who the fuck even overeats with soup?" Leo asked, sounding amused as he moved around the bathroom to grab an old towel throw in their laundry basket, so he could wipe the mess.
Not soup, goulash, Jonah thought and immediately gagged, hugging the bowl as another big wave rushed out of him, so powerful he raised from where he sat, in order to be on his knees. His ears went deaf, throat burning and head pounding. His stomach ached, fiercely, spasming several times as he tried to cough even more, failing.
"Awn, Jon," Leo cooed, when he finally stopped heaving and fell boneless on his back, staring at the ceiling that was twirling. It would be just his stupid luck, to throw up so hard he triggered a vertigo episode, "baby? Are you okay?"
"Yeah," his voice sounded like he had gargled with salt, "nauseous. Dizzy..."
"Vertigo dizzy?" Now Leo sounded actually concerned and he let out a sigh of relief when Jon shook his head, panting to catch his breath, "okay... Scoot to the side, lemme clean over there-"
"Leave it," Jonah bossed, forcing himself to sit up. The change in positions forced up a thick, wet burp and his eyes widened, not only at the volume of it, but because for a second he thought he'd be sick all over his lap. It was just air, however, and it actually eased some of the maddening churning in his stomach.
"I'm not-" Leo yawned, "not leaving vomit on the floor, move Jonah," he poked his knee, "out of the way."
Jonah was normally the neat freak of them and he understood why Leo wanted to clean, but he felt overwhelmingly guilty, "no, gimme-" he wrestled with his husband for the cloth, "gimme that."
Although he was spent, Leo was too tired to fight him for it or, probably, didn't particularly want to be face to face with the vomit, and he let go easily.
"You're gonna make yourself puke again," Leo scoffed, as Jonah wiped the floor, biting back down the nausea building once again, "I can literally see you turning gray, you stubborn prick."
"Shu-URk-" he clutched the soiled rag, turning quickly to the bowl, as even more came up. Not a lot, but chunky, causing him to strain as he heaved violently. Leo patted his back, forcing up a string of belches and then a bit of meat fell on the dirty toilet water with a sickening plop!
"Oh, gross!" Leo cried out, turning his face to the side in order to muffle a gag of his own, "fuck, Jon-"
"Get'outtahere-" Jonah shoved his husband's knee, the last thing they needed was Leo puking because he was squeamish.
Leo wasn't the sympathy puker out of the two of them, but he was trigger happy. Jonah had seen him gag when scrolling on tiktok and ending up on a pimple popping video. He was even worse when his stomach was already tender from all the medicine and coughing, so Leo scrambled out of the bathroom with a muffled, "sorry!"
Jonah groaned, clearing his throat and spitting, pressing the flush. He gagged a couple more times, but nothing other than some orangey spit came up and he finally got up to wash his mouth and face.
The bathroom was far from clean, but it was wiped down, which would have to be it, because he was exhausted. Jonah swished some water around his mouth, glaring at his reflection, and wrapped an arm around his tender stomach, walking back to the bedroom.
The bed was empty and Leo wasn't there, their door open, but the hallway light off, JD was gone. He fell onto the bed with a groan, curling up his knees to his chest and belching, thick and warm, in his hand.
"Here," Leo kicked the bedroom door shut behind him, walking back in. He was carrying a plastic bin, as well as a glass of water to join the collection already littering their bedroom, and when he sat down in front of Jonah, he saw one of those effervescent antiacids in his palm, "sorry for running out on you."
"Shut up," Jonah rolled his eyes, his cheeks burning, "sorry for eating myself sick when you're the one who's sick."
"I'm not sick," Leo scoffed, dropping the antiacid inside the glass of water and passing it to Jon as it foamed, "I'm healed now."
Jonah squinted at him, taking the glass and sipping it carefully, while with his other hand he grabbed Leo by the chin and kept him put, moving his hand to press its back against his forehead. Warm.
"Bloody hell, Leo, the fever's back."
"No, I'm fine," Leo swatted his hand away, planting the bowl on Jon's bedside table and crawling on the bed to go back to his spot, "are you good to lie down?"
"Probably not," Jonah sighed, then gestured to Leo's mess of a bedside table, "tylenol, take it."
"I'm fine-"
"Take the stupid pill, Leo," Jonah cut him off, harshly, and heard a whispered insult as Leo shuffled, lying on his stomach as he shuffled through the mess to get the tylenol packet.
Meanwhile, Jonah propped up the pillows behind his back, just right to relieve the pressure on his stomach. It was still churning unhappily, but much emptier. Just a regular ate too much bellyache now.
Leo's fingers were freezing as they crawled under Jon's shirt, resting on his belly, "let me rub for you," he mumbled, tugging on the covers to be around his shoulders.
Jonah snorted. Yeah, right. He'd be right back asleep in no time, "okay, baby," he said, indulging Leo, leaning in even if it hurt his belly, pressing a kiss to Leo's temple, partially to measure the fever, "love you. Thank you for taking care of me."
Leo huffed, a finger hooking on Jon's navel, hand already limp. Nearly out, "yeah, yeah-I'd be an amazing nurse."
He'd be a terrible nurse.
Jonah grinned, twirled his hair between his fingers, "go to sleep."
I haven't written for these guys in quite a while. But gosh I will love them til the day I die.
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Madix’s stomach tried its hardest to digest the sludge of food that he had forced down his throat all that day. It wasn’t his fault—the nachos had such bubbly warm cheese that called his name, and the burger had caramelized onions that begged him to approach. Now all the grease and sugar goated his gut in a layer of grime. His tummy burbled sickeningly as it attempted to deal with the overwhelm that a day at the fair had caused.
He staggered next to Dakota who seemed to be dealing with the food expertly. He had been a fool to think that he could keep up with his best friend. The man was a pro at putting away every dish they came across.
Poutine, easy. Ice cream, no problem. He simply sighed contently after every bite that got Madix feeling more and more like a zombie.
It was a struggle to pick up his feet, but he had to keep up, or else Riley and Blair would run off into the crowd, never to be seen again with their significant others.
At least Dakota hung back with him, even if it was because he kept getting distracted by the food vendors and not because he noticed Madix’s deteriorated state. He jumped excitedly in line for a beaver tail.
Madix swallowed thickly as he came to stand next to his friend. The Canadian treat gave off the sickly-sweet aroma of syrups and cheesecake. The people around them carried their oversized pastries that dripped with thick white frosting or a drizzling of rich chocolate.
“I think I want the brownie one!” he said, pointing to the sign ahead. “It has Nutella on it! Do you want to split it with me?”
Madix moaned and jammed his head into Dakota’s shoulder. “…. Ugh.”
“Okay fine, jeez? How about the strawberry cheesecake?”
"Noooo..."
He gave his arm a jerk. “Why you sound so mopey, Maddy?”
“Too much food…” he slurred out. His chest hitched with a hiccup. The nausea made all his muscles stiff. “I don’t feel good. How can you still be hungry?”
“Classic mistake.” Dakota pulled his greenish friend into a side hug. “We’ve moved beyond our primitive needs. Hunger has nothing to do with it anymore. It’s all about the experience.”
“Oh, I think I’m in for a doozy of an “experience” any minute now.”
Dakota chuckled at first, but then quickly wondered how much Madix was joking. The boy next to him swayed with fatigue. His eyelids were droopy as if his full stomach were weighing every part of him down. Personally, he felt only the beginnings of fullness, but Madix was nearing the end of his limits it seemed.
He took off his sunglasses, only then realizing how quickly the sun had set. The sky was now purple and pink, and Madix’s cheeks were grey. “You do look pale, buddy. Maybe take a break from the rides and food.”
“Yeah, I think I have to. I’d like to sit down as well, but I don’t want to lose Riley and Blair.”
Dakota waved this away. “I’ll text Blair that we stopped for a break. Look, we can sit under that tree, there’s a bench.”
Dakota ate his pastry happily while next to him Madix wondered what was going on with his belly. He was full, but this level of nausea was intense. If he were at home, he’d most likely be on the bathroom floor by now. Here, he was not sure how far a walk the nearest bathroom was. Instead, he would focus on keeping the food down until he had time to digest.
Dakota was not helping with the way he devoured the chocolate mess of dough and oil.
“Ugh, Kota. I want to go home. I think I may actually throw up, but there’s a lot of people here.” He hugged his belly.
“You feel that bad?” The sudden development surprised him. “I’ve seen you eat way more."
“I don’t know why…” Madix burped and let out a nauseous moan. “I just feel really fucking sick.” He glanced at his friend with his glassy eyes. “Would you hurry up and eat that already. It’s dripping onto your hand.”
Dakota licked the precarious drop of icing. “It’s messy, I’m sorry.” After three huge bites and finger licking, he finished the treat in time to see Madix shudder and gag.
Madix suddenly stood up on shaky legs. This was bad. He could feel pressure growing in his throat. Rising.
“Oh God, I can’t keep it down.” He tried to speak through the nausea and the hand that covered his mouth. “One second.” He wandered away from the main road, away from the bench where they sat, and beyond the fenced in grass.
Dakota quickly followed his swaying friend.
“Oookay, I guess we’re going on a little excursion.” He grimaced at the retch that tore up Madix’s throat. He grabbed his friend’s arm to steady him. “This is a good spot to let loose, Maddy. I’ve got you.”
A shower of vomit came gushing from Madix’s mouth. It was orange and frothy. His poor belly squeezed in on itself tighter. Another mouthful of greasy mush added to the puddle at his feet. He felt the muscles in his back tense continuously as the heaves sent him forward.
A groan of misery escaped him.
Dakota kept a firm grip on his woozy friend. It was odd to see him so weak. Every gag pushed him around like a puppet dangling on a string. “Kneel here, Madix. You’re swaying a lot and I don’t like it.”
“Don’t feel good,” he slurred. A hiccup made his chest jump and more slushy vomit splattered onto the grass. The sound gurgled in his throat. “Ugh, my belly. I’m so full.”
Wave after wave came up from Madix’s upset belly. It was relentless and slow. Whenever he thought he was finished, the nausea shot back through his body. Droplets of sweat coated his forehead, dampening the strands of hair that hung in front of his eyes.
Dakota brushed the hair off his forehead. It was not a hot night and yet still Madix was melting. “You’re so out it, man. I think you have a fever.”
Madix nodded lazily. “Yeah probably. This is a lot.” He blinked quickly. “I can’t focus long enough to…to…do anything.”
“You don’t have to do anything but sit. Wait until you feel better. Do you still need to puke?”
“I think so.” He rubbed his stomach. “It’s like gurgling, my belly. This was not a good time to eat fair food.”
“No kidding,” Dakota laughed, “I’ll jot that down: don’t go to fair with flu.”
i love when people sound so incredibly nauseated without vomiting. hiccups, huge wet burps, whimpers, moaning about how sick their tummy is, gagging, dry heaving, and yet whatever’s making them so sick refuses to come out
concept: someone who’s been trying to curb their nausea for *hours* on a flight mumbling a hushed but desperate ‘oh no’ before frantically reaching for a sick bag. projecting out all of the food they overindulged in at the airport, no idea they were going to get so motion sick being sat at the back of the plane.
soon enough one bag is full and badly aimed puke is splashing over the edges of the heaving, heavy bag, they put it down on the table in front of them before taking a bag from the seat next to them and grunting gently, but their body turns it into a guttural burp and gag before forcing up more thick vomit into the bag.
This is not in the timeline, just place it wherever before Vin/Luke got sick with food poisoning last week. Pure fluff, some sexy Lukebell, loads of burping/puking.
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Bella opened a sleepy smile as she felt Luke's arm slip under her, so he could hug her waist and press himself to her back.
"Mornin..." He mumbled in her ear, voice husky from sleepy, warm breath tickling her neck as he brushed the curls away and pressed a kiss there. She sighed, dreamily, reaching blindly behind her so she could grab his shirt and bring him to her.
Luke went, his mouth meeting hers, in a chaste kiss, then deepening it as Bella kissed him right back.
"Hi," she opened her eyes to look at him and then immediately closed it, "why's it so bright?" she whined, as Luke chuckled and kissed her forehead.
"It's 7 AM," he answered, mouth trailing down, a kiss to the tip of her nose, her mouth, hands squeezing her waist.
"uhmmm... It's too early to be up," Bella yawned, "it's Saturday..."
A huff answered her, "okay," a kiss to her cheek, "sleep."
Then his warmth was gone and Bella groaned, "no, don't leave-" The room was pulled into darkness as the blackout curtains were drawn, Lucas' laugh as he moved around.
"Go back to sleep, baby," Luke whispered, showering her face with kisses and then pulling back as she grabbed his shirt, unhooking her fingers from the fabric.
Bella pouted, but it lasted a grad total of five seconds before sleep was tugging at her and she passed out right back.
When she woke up again her body was sore from lying down for so long and she could tell by how warm the room was that it was no longer early morning.
She stumbled up, washing her face and brushing her teeth, then glaring at her hair. Her curls were sticking out in every direction, so she got some oil in her hands and started to rake them through the curls, as she stepped out of the room, only stopping to put some shorts under her oversized t-shirt, since Vin was staying with them.
Downstairs was quiet and Bella frowned, feeling a glass with orange juice and walking to the attached garage. Luke's jeep and Vin's bike were parked inside, hers was at the mechanic still.
"Guys?" Bella moved to the living room, but they weren't sprawled in front of the TV either. Weird.
She strained her ears to hear anything, then heard laughter coming from the backyard and followed the sound.
It was a beautiful day. Sunny, sky bright blue, but breezy.
Vaguely, Bella thought she really get some projects out of the paper, with all that unused land. Maybe they could build a pool or a lounging deck...
Luke and Vin were standing in the middle of the slightly overgrown grass and Bella smiled, leaning against the backyard door. Vin was wearing a ratty, loose tank top, while Lucas had an old football team shirt on, that hung awkwardly on his shoulders since he no longer was as built as his college days.
They both had shorts and flip flops on and both idiots had a big soda bottle in their hands.
"What are you doing?" Bella asked, although she could guess.
Luke's head snapped like a puppy's, blinding smile on and her heart did a little pirouette.
"BELL!" He sounded so stupidly happy to see her, as if they weren't sharing a bed just.. Four hours ago? What time was it?
"Great, you're up," he jogged closer so he could grab her hand, "you can be the judge."
"Judge?" she allowed him to pull her into the grass, despite the fact she was barefoot.
"We're doing a soda challenge," Vince rolled his eyes, although he sounded excited, "this idiot thinks he can beat me."
"I know I can beat you," Luke corrected, wiggling his finger his best friend's way, "you've grown soft, I haven't."
"Who the hell are you calling soft, Lucas?" Vince glared at him, then flexed his arms in some stupid show and Bella rolled her eyes so much they nearly got stuck.
Luke adamantly shook his head, "that's not what I meant," he shoved Vin's bicep away from his face, "you're all gourmet food and fussy pastries now, you can't handle this."
"How is it possible I leave you alone for three hours and you turn into teenagers?" Bella teased them, only to receive a scoff from Luke.
"Baby, c'mon, back me up," he whined, making her grin. He was out of his mind if he thought he could beat Vince, but suddenly she didn't wanna say that out loud. Instead she shook her head.
"My bad," she said, "kick his ass, babe."
"As if," Vin scoffed, then gestured to her, "the rules are whoever finished the whole bottle faster wins, but you can't puke," he explained, "not while, not even after for at least 1 hour."
"That sounds impossible," Bella eyed the two big bottles. Luke's was a bright green liquid, citrus something, while Vin's was clear, just Sprite.
"Them's the rules," Vin shrugged, then wiggled his eyebrows to Luke, "of course there's no shame in tapping out if you gotta-"
"You got this?" Luke ignored him, looking at Bella, "make sure he's not cheating."
"I don't have to cheat to win," Vince shoved Lucas' arm with a little too much force, causing him to stumble. Bella bit the inside of her cheek.
"Yeah, okay," she gestured for their bottles, "uhm- I'm gonna count down."
They fixed themselves up, opening their bottles, shoulders squared. Bella raised a hand, "five- Four. Three. Two... ONE! Go!"
They both started off strong. Vince chugged faster, but by only a smidge, and when he stopped to glare at his bottle — the liquid was down to the label — Luke didn't stop and playfully turned so he could be facing Vin, while still drinking.
Vince rolled his eyes, thumping his chest to work up a burp and then shuddering, latched the bottle back to his mouth and starting to drink right back up.
Bella could tell the minute Luke started to regret the whole ordeal. He pulled the bottle away from his mouth with a pinched expression and paused, free hand digging into his stomach to force up a burp.
A big one exploded out of his mouth, turning frothy and gurgly at the end and Luke shuddered, spitting on the grass. Vince lowered his bottle, "wanna stop?"
"In your dreams," Luke scoffed, although he was still slightly hunched over, staring at his toes, "just- Burp'sssstuck."
Vince smacked a hand on Luke's back, forcing up a huge, wet burp out of the guy, just as Bella squealed, "HEy! That's cheating, you're gonna make him puke!"
"I'm helping him!" Vince cried out, hand closing into a fist so he could thump his chest and force up another burp, "you're supposed to impartial, Bella!"
"I am being impartial," Bella glared at him, "no touching each oth-"
Lucas jammed his elbow on Vin's belly, causing Bella to yell, "LUCAS!", while Vince folded with a large burp.
He coughed, spat in the grass and then straightened up with a smug smile, "that actually helped loads, thanks buddy."
"Asshole," Luke said darkly, his cheeks all pink as he picked up the bottle once again to match Vin's pace.
A couple more minutes passed and Bell could tell they were slowing down. Vince was pausing after every sip to burp, even if they were these dainty, useless belches. Luke was drinking slightly faster, but after every five or so gulps, he needed to take longer pauses, throat bobbing up and down as he struggled.
"Are you ready to admit this was stupid?" Bella asked. She had moved in order to sit down on the backyard's door porch, to avoid the sun shining down on her. She didn't need any new freckles.
"Not until he admits he can't beat me," Vince groaned, massaging his stomach with a grimace. He was halfway through the second half of the bottle, a couple more gulps and he'd win.
Luke had drank more, but his face was pinched and he had both hands plants on his knee, bottle hanging loosely between his fingers, as he panted.
"I'mssooo close," he spat in the grass and Bella cringed.
"Baby, there's no way you're not gonna end up puking, c'mon-"
He threw her a steely, competitive glare, "I can win."
"No, ya' can't," Vince scoffed, then whimpered as his stomach cramped. He cupped a hand over his mouth and Luke perked up.
"Gonna hurl?" He asked, smugly, "did you drink too much, buddy?"
"Fuck-OORouprp-" Vince's face turned pink at the huge burp, eyes darting Bella's direction since he was wired to not be rude in front of her, no matter how many times she had said she didn't care, "Wow, that was great."
Realizing Vince was about to beat him to it, Luke straightened up with a gag, bringing the bottle back to his mouth.
"Oh, no you won't," Vince scoffed, doing the same and starting to gulp down the liquid. He had more to drink, but Luke wasn't chugging as fast as before and they were neck to neck.
Bella cringed, drawing up her legs, just in case one of the idiots projectile vomited in her direction, eyeing them nervously.
Luke beat Vin by a second. He dropped the bottle, screaming out, "DONE!"
Vin pulled the bottle back, less than a sip still inside of it, and scoffed, "you still have to hold that down for an hour, dumbass," then he drank the last sip and squished the bottle in his hand, rubbing his belly uneasily, "ugh, I feel gross now."
"Wow, I wonder why," Bella chuckled, standing up, "Luke's the winner?"
"Not yet," Vince glared at her, "he's gonna puke."
"No, I'm not," Luke groaned, although he wasn't very convincing, given how pale and clammy he was. He tugged off his shirt, using it to wipe his face, "it's so warm."
"You're not going inside so you can puke all over the floors," Bella glared at him, eyes lowering to how round his belly looked. She could no longer see the faint outline of his abs quadrants, the pudgy belly had bloated into a hard ball, "looks like you beat me too, when is our baby due?"
Luke flipped her off, a hand cradling his stomach, "don't be mean."
"Throw up already and come lie down, you dweeb," Bella chuckled, while Vince stumbled closer and sat next to her, spreading his legs and glaring at the grass. She glanced his way, he too was pretty pale and green.
Maybe Luke could still win.
Clearly her husband had thought the same, because he shook his head, "Vin's gon'puke first..."
"No, I'm not," Vince scoffed, hugging his stomach and rocking slightly, "not before you do."
Bella let out an ugly snort and leaned back against the door, giggling at their expanse. Vince was gulping down slowly, eyes squeezed shut, "god... Fuckin' hurts..."
Meanwhile Luke had gone very still, an arm wrapped around his stomach, staring at the ground. She saw him shudder, then burp wetly, spitting in the grass, "want more- Soda?" Even sick he tried to egg Vince on.
Vin, who lifted up his head to glare at him, "sure," he said acidly, "let's chug another one."
"You two are ridiculous," Bella laughed, just as Luke whimpered, clutching his stomach. His cheeks puffed up, but he gulped down and Vince gagged at the sight.
"Gross, Luke-"
"You'regross-" Lucas tried to retort, but his body was done with him and then he hiccupped- And retched, violently. Bella cringed as she saw a big stream of neon green fall on the grass, Luke stumbling so much he fell to his knees, panting.
"God, Luke," Bella groaned, getting up. She was about to walk to the grass, when Vin tugged at the back of her shirt and kicked off his flip flops, so she wouldn't end up getting wet grass on her feet or vomit.
"Thanks," she ruffled his curls, "you win, so maybe- Puke?"
"Can't," Vince's voice was distorted, face pinched with pain, "it'ssstuck."
"Unbelievable," Bella groaned, walking with his huge flipflops towards Luke. She stood behind him, planting a hand on his clammy forehead and aiding with the aim. Promptly Luke whined, pressing his head to her hand and gagging again, another pressurized stream coming up.
"Hurtsss-" he clutched his throat, while Bella patted his naked back in an a sympathetic manner.
"Have we learnt our lesson here?" She teased, combing his sweaty hair back and grimacing as she heard his still bloated belly let out a watery, sickening gurgle.
"Wha-" He choked as more liquid rushed up and coughed it up, causing Bella's heart to squeeze with guilt. This man was an idiot, but she hated kicking him while he was down. Luke whined, spitting the ropey saliva hanging from his bottom lip and leaned back, blinking blearily at her.
Bella snorted, he looked pathetic, with tears clumping his lashes and trembling like a wet cat.
"What am I gonna do with you, Atwood?" Bell grinned, tugging on the root of his hair so his head leaned even further back and planting a kiss on his forehead, "have you learned you can't beat Vin?"
Ahead of them, sitting on the porch, Vince gagged and puked right between his legs. Luke scoffed.
"I just had to hold it for five more minutes..." He whined, mournfully, and Bella let go of him with a sigh.
"You two are clowns," she groaned, rubbing her face, "I'm gonna go have breakfast."
"No, Bell," Luke grabbed at her hand, "rub my belly-"
someone getting told (w earnest concern/sympathy) “that cold of yours isn’t getting any better, huh?” and irrationally taking it to mean they are getting a bad grade in being sick
for some more hcs, i think w.aterboy can pretty much autovom anytime anywhere, and does it on command. so it wouldn't be past him to do it for kink reasons. he'd absolutely let you stuff him with various food only to bring them back up for you in watery chunky slurry whenever you wanted. having a tummy full would probably be hard for him to hold back, though, so more than often it happens naturally (hot). would live for the praise you'd give him too, praise kink.
Heres Some Nausea Whump Tropes Since I've been Gone for The Longest:
Sorry that I haven't been very consistent with posting on here, I've been getting over procrastination so I should be posting way more frequently so you guys will have more content from me, thank you!!
These tropes mostly consist of some of my favorites.
PRE-NAUSEA WHUMP:
✮ When the whumpee has their hand over or near their mouth "just in case".
✮ Going quiet and answering questions with short hums or nods.
✮ Sudden sensitivity to smells and or the smallest or movements.
✮ Sitting very still because, any motion feels risky.
✮ Those nauseous coughs right before actual vomit or gagging comes along.
✮ When the whumpee is asked if they're okay, and they whisper "I'm fine..." a little too quicky (bonus points if they hesitate for a bit before responding to any questions at all).
✮ When the whumpee gets the slow realization: "I think I might throw up."
PRE-VOMIT WHUMP:
✮ The whumpee breathing through their nose like it might help.
✮ Once again, the nauseous coughs.
✮ When the whumpee let's out a series of wet, nauseous burps.
✮ Being asked if they're okay, and instead or answering verbally they just shake their head no, as their eyes remain highly unfocused.
✮ When the whumpee's belly starts to gurgle.
✮ When the whumpee begins to salivate a lot more than what they usually do.
✮ Knees pulled up and or arms wrapped around their stomach.
✮ When the whumpee avoids touching their stomach,nervous it might trigger vomiting.
✮ The whumpee starting to whimper as their stomach muscles start to contract.
✮ Shame or embarrassment hitting before anything else does.
DURING / LOSS OF CONTROL:
✮ Those gagged burps.
✮ The whumpee's stomach muscles contracting with each gag they produce.
✮ The whumpee letting out coughs after each gag.
✮ Gripping their own stomach (someone gripping the whumpee's stomach) to help comfort or aid vomiting.
✮ The whumpee gagging due to feeling small chunks of vomit at the back of the throat.
✮ When the whumpee is getting their back rubbed/patted for comfort.
✮ Tears start to fill their eyes, and their nose starts running due to the force thats being used to push up stomach contents.
✮ When the whumpee's body becomes really shakey.
✮ When the whumpee let's a out shakey breaths during breaks or after every gag.
✮ When the whumpee is scared to stick their fingers down their throat, despite not being able to get anything up at all.
✮ The humiliation the whumpee feels knowing that they can't stop it.
POST-VOMIT WHUMP:
✮ Slumped posture, completely boneless.
✮ Thick saliva dripping from their lips and chin.
✮ Wiping their mouth with th back of their hand or sleeve, simply because they just dint care anymore.
✮ When the whumpee is having trouble walking due to weakness from strain and or overall sickness.
✮ Repeats "I'm okay, I'm okay..." (bonus points if they are most definitely not okay).
✮ Dizzy and wobbly when they try to stand.
✮ The cold sweats afterwards.
✮ Softly and shakily asking for water.
✮ Remaining in front of the toilet not fully sure if they're done puking.
RECOVERY / AFTERCARE WHUMP:
✮ Wrapped in the blanket even if they're still warm or are overheating.
✮ Sitting inches away from a fan due to overheating.
✮ Sipping water almost too carefully, pausing in between with a blank stare at nothing.
✮ Those nauseous, post-vomit hiccups.
✮The whumpee's breath hitching in their throat.
✮ Someone instisting that they rest; the whumpee finally not fighting it (bonus points if they keep on fighting).
✮ Exhaustion crashing down all at once.
✮ Embarrased apologies that don't need to be said.
✮ When the whumpee breaks down and starting starts weakly crying.
✮ Falling asleep mid-sentence.
✮ Feels honest relief of being taken care of, instead of having to continue to hold it all together.
BONUS WHUMP TROPES: EMOTIONAL FACTORS
✮ Most upset about being a "burden" fathering than the fact that they are sick
✮ Trying to clean up afterwards despite barley being able to stand.
✮ The whumpee downplaying their sickness:"It's not that bad." (they say as they're still shakey).
✮ Softly sobbing into the caretaker or whumper's shirt
✮ Realizing how close they were to pushing themselves a little too far.
Sickie that throws up easily, getting everything up in 3-4 massive waves of vomit
Sickie that can only get up a little at a time, puking up mouthfuls a in quick succession, easily vomiting 5, 10, 15 times in a row, hardly getting time to breathe
Sickie that gets nauseous very suddenly and has to urgently run to the bathroom, not always making it before they vomit on the floor
Sickie that always struggles to puke, dealing with hours of awful nausea and unproductive gagging before they can finally get relief
Sickie that coughs and coughs until they cough up a wave of sick. Choking after every time they retch or vomit
Sickie that burps a lot, patting their back to help them burp up the trapped air, until they start to gag. Long, wet burps turning into streams of vomit
Sickie that vomits so violently that they get dizzy, see spots, and often faint from the exertion
Sickie that gags and vomits weakly and quietly, exhausted and barely awake
Sickie that can't help puking loudly, their retching and moaning clearly audible even with the door shut and the tap running
Sickie that's afraid to throw up, crying and shaking when they feel queasy, squeezing your hand when they pant and heave into the toilet bowl
small appreciation post for collapsing while still conscious
ok as much as i love a good faint im also a huge sucker for when a character collapses but is still conscious, maybe just dizzy or weak
stumbling or tripping on something and falling to their knees, too weak to stand up again
weak from fever or low blood sugar and failing to get out of a chair, lying on their back or side while the dizziness subsides (i actually had a fic planned for this at one point)
slumping into a chair because they cant stand anymore
reaching out to a table or wall for support and sliding to the floor (!!!)
sitting on the floor already but they slump to the side out of exhaustion
that thing where they throw their arm across their eyes out of exhaustion or dizziness (honestly one of my favorites)
there are probably a lot more im missing rn so feel free to add on!!
what about a sickie who hates throwing up because they get so weak and shaky afterwards, so every time they puke the caretaker just has to hold them while they shiver and whimper for like half an hour
they're so reluctant to separate from the caretaker that they end up puking on caretaker/in bed and when the caretaker gets up to clean everything up they have to shake it out alone
A new collab with @its-a-goddamn-heartbreak featuring two never-before-seen on this blog characters. If y'all like them, we have tons of other stories with them ready to post!
Beau Luke Campbell, goes by Luke. Gay, history major, baseball player. Left his shitty southern small town for college after being involuntarily outed by his ex. Currently in an experimentally open relationship with his new roommate, Matty.
Mateo "Matty" Espinosa Herrera. Bi, lit major, plays clarinet. Comes from a huge family who all work at his mom's restaurant. The mega outgoing type who's in every club and talks to every person.
Both college freshmen in this story, Matty took Luke home with him for Thanksgiving. Hope y'all enjoy!
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Mateo pushed the plate away with a sigh, sitting back and resting his hands on his belly. Where there was usually just flat muscle, his stomach puffed out in a little rounded dome, bloated from his mother’s indulgent Thanksgiving cooking. Mateo, having lived off rice crackers and take-out for months, had cleared his plate several times. That didn't stop him from diving headfirst into dessert, stacking tres leches cake, pumpkin empanadas, and rice pudding onto his plate in abundance.
After the desserts were on the table, his mother returned to the kitchen, bringing out a tray of glasses. She set coquito in front of everyone, smiling broadly. "Enjoy!"
"Thanks again, Mrs. Herrera Lopez. It's all really good," Luke said, flashing her a big smile before tearing into an empanada.
Mateo’s mother beamed. “Matty, this one can come again,” she said, ruffling Mateo’s hair as she made her way back to her seat. “And Luke, call me Alma.”
"Oh, um, yes ma'am." He replied, making Alma laugh and Mateo roll his eyes. While the empanada he'd taken was delicious, he was starting to feel full, and ended up leaving half of it on the plate. When it became evident Luke wouldn't finish it, Mateo snatched the leftovers away, making swift work of the remaining food. Luke didn't object - he'd actually felt bad about wasting it. Mateo finished the empanada off and reached for another helping of rice pudding. He washed it down with coquito, relishing the rich, creamy tastes and textures that he’d missed so much while living in dorms.
"How are you not full?" His brother Luis asked incredulously. "I ate half as much as you and I'm dying."
"I miss the food," he said, barely pausing between bites to reply.
“You work with the food four times a week,” Isabella, his oldest cousin, pointed out, raising an eyebrow.
“I don’t anymore,” he protested. He poured himself another glass of coquito and took a sip before continuing. “Mama gave my shifts away so I would focus on school.”
"Oh, I'm so sorry I'm worried about you getting a good education." Alma rolled her eyes.
"You're forgiven," Mateo said, grinning at her with a coquito mustache. "But I will have more tres leches cake to make up for it."
"This is what happens when you refuse to use the kitchen all year," Luke drawled. "You forget what good food tastes like."
Mateo's older sister, Maria, frowned. "But Matty can cook," she exclaimed. "I made sure of it."
"You've not seen the state of that kitchen," Mateo muttered darkly.
"The dorm kitchen?"
Mateo scrunched his nose in disgust. "I'd get better results cooking on the top of a hot dumpster. The stove is older than me, and I'm pretty sure it hasn't been cleaned in my lifetime either. And it's always full of idiots burning nachos anyway."
“One of the guys touched all the appliances after handling raw chicken,” Luke nodded, smiling easily as he recalled the way Mateo had complained about it for days after. “No concept of food hygiene.”
Alma chuckled. "Well, it's good to know that mi chiquito remembers the things I teach him."
"Of course I do, mama. I was always the best listener," Mateo said, flashing a teasing smirk at his siblings.
"Best kiss ass too," Jesus, his second brother, jibed, rolling his eyes even as he rose to the bait.
"You're just jealous," Mateo chuckled. Finally, finally, he put down his cutlery, sitting back in his chair with a contented groan. "God, I'm ready to burst…"
"What, you're not going to eat the table, too?" Luis laughed.
"Nah, that'll be his midnight snack." Jesus replied.
"Ah, shut up," Mateo scoffed, laughing even as he said it. He yawned, stretching and resting his hands on his stomach, feeling incredibly full and heavy. "Man, I could pass out right now."
“No!” Mariela, his littlest cousin, glared at him fiercely. “We haven’t played Loteria yet. You promised you’d play!”
"Yeah, you promised," Luke chimed in, feeling more at home than he had in ages in such a large, happy household. "I'll play if he does," he added to Mariela, making her squeal in excitement.
Mateo groaned dramatically, but he still allowed Mariela to run around the table and grab his hand. "Okay, one game."
It was harder than it should have been to ease himself down onto the lumpy sofa in the living room and he popped the button of his jeans to stop his stomach from straining at the stiff fabric. Luckily, Mariela was happy to run around and order everyone into seats, handing out boards and handfuls of beans until everyone was ready.
Seeing the confusion on Luke's face, Mateo turned to him. "It's like bingo," he explained, "I'll help you keep track, since you can't read the cards."
"I think I can manage," Luke insisted, now that he knew the basis of the game. "I watched Dora."
Mateo laughed and rolled his eyes. "Good luck, then."
Luke, predictably, was awful at the game. Mateo kept an eye on his board, noting how many times he missed a card, and was fairly certain that he'd have had a full house first if he'd known what he was doing. He considered teasing Luke for it, but leaning over to point at the board had put his stomach in such a painful position that he couldn't stand to stay in it. Groaning, Mateo sank back on the couch, palming his stomach again.
"That's what you get for being such a pig," Luis smirked from his seat on the arm of the couch. "You want me to get you the Pepto?"
"Ginger tea works better," Maria argued.
"Oh yeah, some herbal nonsense is so much better than actual medicine," Luis scoffed.
"I thought you'd be an expert in nonsense, you spew it all the time," Maria retorted.
Mateo groaned in annoyance. "Ay, stop it."
"We're just trying to help," Maria protested. "You look uncomfortable."
"Then go make the stupid tea. All you're doing here is giving me a headache," Mateo grumbled, unusually acerbic in his discomfort.
Maria frowned, looking a bit offended, but she stood up and went to the kitchen anyway. Mateo slouched further down on the couch as she left, closing his eyes and rubbing a hand gingerly over his belly. His stomach was painfully full and taut, glugging slowly as it attempted to digest everything he'd eaten.
“You alright?” Luke asked. He’d put his board down on the table and now he sat back, draping an arm along the back of the sofa behind Mateo. All of the younger kids had lost interest, running around playing a new game that he didn’t understand, but he could tell Matty wasn’t in the mood for festivities any more. “That wasn’t like you.”
Mateo winced, clearly feeling bad for snapping at his sister like he had. "I feel kinda shitty," he admitted, "my stomach really hurts."
“You want to go for a walk? Sometimes that helps with indigestion,” Luke suggested, hand dropping to Mateo’s shoulder. “Or at least some place quieter?”
"Walk could be nice," Mateo conceded, though just climbing to his feet was laborious. He groaned, leaning on the arm of the couch and cradling his upset stomach.
“All right, come on,” Luke agreed, standing up beside him and squeezing his shoulder. “You can show me the neighbourhood. And if that’s not settled things down, at least there’ll be ginger tea when we get back.”
"Yeah, sounds good." Mateo agreed, reluctantly buttoning his jeans back up. When they got to the door, he stepped into his shoes, not bothering to grab a jacket. Even as winter approached, California was decidedly temperate, and the slight breeze was soothing on his flushed skin. He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes and savoring the crisp fall air.
“Your family’s nice,” Luke said after a while. He scuffed his shoes along the sidewalk as they strolled along. “I like being around a busy house again, it’s…nice.”
"Yeah, I thought you might," Mateo said, brightening as his mind was taken off his upset stomach. "I just hope it hasn't been too crazy. I love my familia, but they can be… a lot." He thought back to his Uncle Ricardo, who had greeted Luke with a full-body hug and a lewd joke, and his cousins Mariela and Estrella who had gushed over how handsome he was.
“Y’all are very welcoming,” Luke said politely, tucking his hands into his trouser pockets.
“That’s one way of putting it,” Mateo said drily. His stomach glugged unhappily and he grimaced. “At least the food is always good. I think I might have overdone it a bit…”
"Yeah, I didn't wanna say anything," Luke admitted, "It seemed rude. But you ate a lot. Even when I'm training I can't eat that much."
Mateo groaned, his face going sheepish red. "Yeah, I just… really missed everything. My eyes were definitely bigger than my stomach, and all the food was so familiar, and by the time it hit me I was way too far gone."
“As long as it doesn’t ruin your day then it doesn’t really matter,” Luke shrugged. “Lord knows I’ve done far worse.” He pulled a face, remembering how Mateo had had to drag him home drunk when they’d barely known each other.
"Yeah, but you're sorry for it. So as far as we Catholics are concerned, you're fine," Mateo said lightly. His mind shifted and he suddenly asked, "How was dinner? I know it's not what you're probably used to."
“Oh, it was great!” Luke beamed suddenly, a genuine smile splitting across his face. “I don’t really like football anyway, and Momma’s turkey is always dry. Your mom is an excellent cook.”
Mateo struggled to hide his shock at Luke talking about his family seemingly without a second thought. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah, she is. I need to get her recipe for tres leches cake, it’s never the same from the store.”
"I assumed you already had her recipes," Luke admitted.
"Nah, I have to ask for anything I want. It's a closely guarded secret." Mateo smirked.
“And so it should be,” Luke said. “You could take over the world with cooking that good. The things I would do for one of those pumpkin empanadas…”
"Don't tell Mama that," Mateo laughed, "She'll send you home with twenty."
"That doesn't sound like a problem," Luke replied, grinning broadly.
What was a problem, it would seem, was Matty’s bellyache. They’d barely made it halfway around the block when he started flagging, footsteps heavy and slow as he clutched the swollen bloat of his stomach gingerly.
Luke glanced back when he realized Mateo was no longer in step with him. "You okay?" He asked, "You're looking a little green around the gills."
"Um…" Mateo hesitated for a moment, belching quietly into his fist. "I think we need to head back," he admitted. "I really don't feel good."
“Yeah, of course,” Luke agreed immediately. “If you need to go lie down or something then that’s fine too, I don’t need to be chaperoned around your family, you know?”
Mateo flashed a grateful smile, only for it to twist into a grimace as his belly turned again. His cheeks puffed out with a belch that he didn't dare to release, waiting for a long moment to let out a slow exhale.
Luke frowned worriedly. "C'mon, let's get you home, you look awful."
As soon as they got back to the house, Mateo went off in search of his mother. Luke watched as they exchanged words, a pang of sadness going through him as Alma stroked her son’s hair back and he leaned in for a gentle hug. He shook his head to clear the selfish thought. Sure, he missed his family, but Mateo wasn't well, and that was the more relevant problem.
After a few more moments of quiet conversation, Alma led Mateo back through the hallway, and they stopped by Luke. "I'm going to get him comfy in his room. The house is a little crazy right now, and he needs to rest. Feel free to make yourself comfortable. You're welcome to anything in the kitchen."
"Or you can come with," Mateo added. He knew Luke had said he didn't need to be chaperoned, but in his state of discomfort he actually rather wanted a cuddle.
Luke glanced at Alma, suddenly nervous. “Um, I…” She smiled, nodding encouragingly as he stuttered. “Yeah, I’ll be up in a minute, if you want?”
Mateo nodded, and Alma smiled at Luke once more. "I'll just get him settled then," she said, guiding Mateo up the steps. He leaned on her the whole way, groaning and clutching his belly. He was so bloated and full that the swell of his stomach pressed against the buttons of his shirt. When his mother handed him a set of comfy pyjamas, he couldn't hide his sigh of relief.
Alma smiled at him, brushing his curls back to kiss his forehead. "Get changed and I'll tuck you in, okay, mijo?"
"Okay," Mateo nodded agreeably, but his tone was still tinged with discomfort. He changed pants first, groaning louder than intended as his stomach was released from his jeans.
"Poor baby," Alma crooned, reaching out to rub his lower back. He whimpered softly, leaning against her for a moment once he'd stumbled into his pajama pants. She gave him a gentle squeeze, careful to avoid his stomach, before letting him go. "Take off your nice shirt," she told him, patiently taking his clothes and draping them over the edge of the hamper while he put on the pajama top. Once he was changed, she led him over to the bed, tucking the blankets snuggly around him. "There you go," she smiled. "Like a burrito."
Mateo smiled weakly, a brief chuckle escaping his lips. She used to say that when she tucked him in as a kid, and it had disappeared into the back of his mind until that moment. "Te amo, mama," he said, reaching his arms out for one last hug before she left.
"Te amo, mijo," she replied, hugging him snugly and kissing his cheeks before leaving the bedroom.
Luke was just approaching the foot of the stairs when Alma came down, and she smiled at him.
"I appreciate you taking care of my Mateo," she said. "I was worried about him being away from home, so it was a relief to know he has a good roommate. He talks about you all the time."
"Oh, uh…" Luke flushed, glancing up the stairs the way she'd come. "He takes care of me mostly."
"You do more than you think," Alma said softly. She reached out, squeezing his shoulder. "He was homesick at first, it did him good to have you."
"Then I guess we helped each other," Luke said sheepishly. "Um… I should go check on him."
"Go ahead," Alma urged him, stepping out of his way so he could climb the stairs.
Luke slipped past her, looking around from the landing until he found the room with Mateo's name on it. The name had been crossed out and replaced with 'Jesus', and Luke chuckled to himself as he pushed the door open.
"Hey," he said softly, padding over to sit on the edge of the bed. "You okay?"
"No, I'm so fucking stupid," Mateo groaned, curling up on his side with a sickening belch. "'scuse me." He hugged his stomach with both arms, wriggling around in a fruitless search for comfort. "Feel like shit."
"It'll pass," Luke said, stroking his hair back like he might've done with Cole or Liddie. "Is there anything I can do? We could watch a movie or something, take your mind off it?"
"Snuggle with me?" Mateo asked, holding his arms out.
Luke hesitated for a moment, but Mateo's imploring stare eventually won him over.
"Sure," he sighed, shucking off his jumper and sliding into the bed. "C'mere, get comfy."
Mateo snuggled up to him at once, cozy against Luke's larger, warmer body. His stomach was still aching badly, and he groaned, rubbing a hand gingerly over his swollen belly. It felt so full and tight, he hardly had room to breathe, grumbling uselessly as it struggled to digest. To make matters worse, he couldn't tell whether he was too hot or too cold - he felt flushed, but every now and then little shivers shocked through his frame. Luke wrapped an arm around his shoulders, rubbing his back slowly as he settled against him. He, unlike Mateo, had eaten enough to be pleasantly full and drowsy, and now that he was lying down it was a struggle to keep his eyes open.
Mateo, on the other hand, couldn't get properly comfortable for anything. He was normally a stomach sleeper, but in this state, he didn't dare. Lying on his back, his stomach threatened to suffocate him, weighing down his chest while acid crept up his esophagus. On his side, his belly pressed against Luke's sturdy form, and the pressure made his guts shift and gurgle ominously. Eventually, he ended up rolling over so his back was to Luke, both arms cradling his painfully bloated belly. His digestive system was beyond overwhelmed, still churning away as it fought to process his massive overindulgence, and he felt a pang of apprehension for what his next trip to the bathroom might bring. More than anything, he was just so full. His stomach was absolutely packed with rich, heavy food, and despite how it gurgled, he couldn't imagine how there was any space left for air inside him. The uncomfortable bubbling in his belly made him want to burp, but the burning in his chest made him worry that more than gas would come up. His stomach growled angrily again and he groaned, hugging it firmly.
The good thing about Luke was that he had almost unending patience. He didn't get annoyed by Mateo's constant fidgeting, or fuss over him when there was nothing to be done. He was just a steady, reassuring presence against Mateo's back, one hand still playing gently with his hair.
"Let me know if you think of anything that might help," was all he said as Mateo's stomach gurgled again.
Mateo was quiet for a moment, but then he asked, "Um, could you… rub my belly? My hands are like… useless." His cheeks went sheepishly red, but he was still hoping Luke would comply.
After a momentary pause, Luke agreed, rolling onto his side so that he could wrap an arm around Mateo's waist. "You need to tell me if I make it worse, okay?"
"If you make it worse I'll puke," Mateo mumbled, rubbing a hand across his face. He was dripping with sweat. "That's how you'll know."
"Okay," Luke said, not seeming too bothered by the idea. He rested a hand very gently on Mateo's stomach, careful not to put pressure on it. Even with his feather-light touch, he could feel the labored gurgling beneath painfully tight skin. As he got an idea of where the worst discomfort was, Luke began to rub slow, steady circles over that area. Mateo whimpered, belching into his fist, but didn't ask him to stop. After what felt like ages, he finally settled enough to doze off, settling against Luke and snoring softly.
He felt much better when he woke up in the morning. There was still a lingering fullness in his belly, but for the first time since yesterday afternoon, he could take a proper deep breath. The slight ache in the pit of his stomach was nothing compared to the crippling nausea that had him literally bedridden yesterday. He sat up, stretching and yawning and releasing a huge unexpected belch. It jolted his chest, and he blinked in surprise, experimentally palming his stomach. Some of the remaining pressure seemed to have escaped just then, eliciting a groan of relief as he sank back against the headboard.
Luke blinked up at him, grinning sleepily. "You look better."
"I feel better," Mateo replied, rolling over to snuggle up against him. "But you're still comfy."
"Your bed's comfy," Luke admitted, jaw cracking as he yawned. "I could sleep all day."
"We don't have to get up yet," Mateo said, settling with his head on Luke's shoulder. "But it smells like Mama made breakfast."
"You can't possibly be hungry," Luke laughed, wrapping an arm around Mateo's back and rubbing gently. "You only got properly to sleep at what, three am?"
Mateo snuggled up closer with a soft groan of content. "I'm not, really. Thought you might be, though."
"I can wait a bit," Luke said, still sleepy enough to not be too hungry.
"We can wait 'til Mama calls us then," Mateo mumbled.
It wasn't much later when Alma knocked on their door, calling them down. They traipsed down - Luke having gotten dressed and Mateo still in his nightclothes - to find the kitchen once again full. Chorizo and eggs sizzled on the stove and a big container of orange juice was being passed around the table. Luke sat down right away, eyes gleaming with excitement. Mateo looked less enthused, hovering next to a chair.
His mother's hand rested on his shoulder. "Don't worry, mijo. I made oatmeal just for you. Help your poor tummy digest." She murmured, pecking a kiss on his cheek.
"Yeah, mijo," Jesus snickered, "don't wanna get a tummyache again."
"Oh fuck off," Mateo rolled his eyes good-naturedly, grabbing his brother's fork and stealing a mouthful of egg and sausage as Jesus squawked indignantly. He chewed and swallowed to make a point, but immediately felt grateful that his mother had made him something else for breakfast. The spicy, greasy sausage threatened to overturn the tenuous balance in his stomach, and he picked up his spoon to dig into his oatmeal instead. Realizing that he'd been busy bickering with his brother, he turned to Alma. "Gracias, mama."
She smiled warmly, pecking a kiss on his forehead. "De nada, mijo. Eat while it's warm," she urged, standing behind him to rub his shoulders. He tipped his head against her, sighing contentedly as he took another bite.
Luckily, the house was much quieter without his cousins around. He and his siblings were all at least over the age of thirteen, and for the most part could keep themselves occupied without too much chaos. Even without the dreadful, overful sensation in his belly, Mateo felt heavy and tired, all too happy to curl up on the sofa and watch television for most of the day.
He was pleasantly surprised to see Luke chatting freely with his siblings, even abandoning him to go kick a soccer ball outside. There was a part of him, though, that had hoped Luke would want to stay with him. His mother had things to do around the house, and he wanted someone to cuddle with while he laid on the couch. In the absence of company, he ended up dozing off, only waking when Alma came to get him for lunch.
She had made all the fixings for burritos, but his own portion of chicken and rice had been cooked up in broth as arroz caldo. He was glad of it - watching Luke tuck into a tortilla stuffed full to bursting made his stomach hurt. Just like breakfast, she lingered by his side, rubbing his back and petting his hair while he ate. Mateo didn't even protest the coddling - after months away from home, he desperately wanted to be fussed over. When he'd finished eating, Alma took his bowl and walked off, only to return with a mug of warm tea. He flashed her a grateful smile.
"Gracias, mama," he murmured once again.
She patted his shoulder before beginning to clear the table. “No te preocupes. I haven’t cooked for you in too long, I have some catching up to do.”
It wasn’t long after lunch that Luke joined him on the sofa, shifting Mateo’s legs into his lap to make room. "You look spent," he remarked, a teasing smile sparkling in his eyes as he added, "lying on the couch all day must be exhausting."
"Well, you know," Mateo grinned back, "It's hard work being this sexy." He flashed a cheesy, exaggerated wink at Luke.
Luke shuddered. “If you ever do that again I’m moving out,” he threatened, pinching the bottom of Mateo’s foot and making him yelp. “No, but seriously. You were quiet at lunch, are you sure you’re okay?”
Mateo shrugged. "Just worn out after yesterday. I think all my energy is going to my stomach right now, cause I could seriously go for a second siesta."
"Well, don't stay awake on my account," Luke said. "I think your siblings like me better anyway."
“I like you plenty.” Mateo rolled his eyes, reaching out to swat Luke’s arm. As he bent over, his stomach glugged unpleasantly, and he sank back against the sofa with a groan. “God, I didn’t know it was possible to get it this wrong with food.”
"Well, it's not the food you got wrong, it's the quantity. By like a factor of ten. What is it you like to say, 'I'm not a math major?'" Luke smirked.
"Ay, don't remind me," Mateo grumbled. He shifted around, finding a more comfortable position. “If you’re going to make fun of me, I’m going to nap.”
"Be my guest," Luke shrugged, flipping the channels on the TV.
Mateo was sprawled out on the couch, dozing in and out, when his father came home that evening. Antonio Espinosa Navarro called out into the house, hanging up his hat and stepping out of his shoes.
"Mi familia, I'm home! Did you miss me?"
"Mm, only a little," Alma replied, strolling out of the kitchen with the aroma of dinner still wafting around her. Looping her arms around his neck, she flashed a cheeky smile. "Did you miss me?"
"Of course, mi amor," he said eagerly, pulling her in for a kiss. "Mmm, delicioso. You must've been tasting your work."
"How else would I know if it's good?" She smiled. "Are you hungry?"
"Of course I am! What do you think I married you for?" He teased, earning himself a reprimanding smack on the ass.
"Go get your smart mouth ready for dinner," she said, laughing even as she shook her head.
Luke had been watching them over the back of the couch, and he waved as Mr. Espinosa Navarro walked by. He got a jovial wave back, and he couldn't help thinking about how even at the best of times, his parents never had that sort of good-natured banter. Glancing down at Mateo still snoring on the couch, Luke considered slipping away without waking him, but when Alma peeked in, he knew what she would want.
"Matt. Matty. Mateo," he murmured, shaking his friend's shoulder.
“Mmm, what?” Mateo mumbled, snuggling deeper into the sofa cushions. He felt worse than he had when he’d dozed off, that heavy, off-kilter sensation that comes with sleeping too much of the day away.
“Dinner,” Luke said softly. “At least come and sit at the table - I’ll finish your food if you’re not up to it.”
"Is it that late already?" Mateo asked, so drowsy he'd lost all sense of time.
"Yeah, your dad just got back from work." Luke said. Lifting Mateo's feet off of himself, he stood up and offered a hand. "C'mon, up and at 'em." Mateo groaned dramatically as he let Luke lift him up, wrapping both arms around his waist and resting his head on Luke's broad, sturdy chest. Luke gave him a quick squeeze before pulling away. "C'mon sleepyhead. Dinner."
“Fine.” Mateo pouted, letting Luke lead him through to the kitchen and nudge him into a chair. They were the last through, arriving just in time for Alma to place a large dish of tamales on the table. It smelled delicious, and Luke waited eagerly for his serving. Mateo received a thoughtfully smaller portion and a fresh mug of tea, though his mother only lingered behind him for a moment this time before sitting down. They waited patiently through the ordeal of grace, but as soon as it was done, the children started tearing into their food with gusto. At first, Mateo was much more tentative with his own portion, but as soon as the familiar flavours hit his tongue he threw caution to the wind.
Alma caught his movement out of the corner of her eye, looking up from her own plate to give Mateo a warm smile. "Glad to see you feeling better, mijo."
"Your cooking always makes me feel better, mama." He said, already wolfing down his portion almost as fast as Luke.
"Well if you want more, I made plenty," she said, gesturing to the dish in the middle of the table.
Mateo bit his lip. “Well… Maybe a little more,” he mused, reaching for the serving spoon. “I won’t get to eat like this again until Christmas, after all.”
"Whatever makes you happy, mi chiquito." She said, reaching over the table to pat his hand.
Helping himself to a few more tamales, Mateo started out with just as much enthusiasm as ever. By the time he got to the last one, though, he was starting to feel his eyes outweighing his stomach again. Flushing a little with embarrassment, he nudged his plate over to Luke and gave him an imploring stare. Without saying anything, Luke switched Mateo’s plate with his own cleared one, tucking into what Mateo had left. He could hear Mateo sigh softly in relief, and Luke reached his free hand over to rest on Matty's back.
As soon as they were released from the dinner table, Mateo stumbled back off to the couch. He'd considered going to bed, but he felt so heavy, the stairs seemed insurmountable. The awful queasy pain in his belly had returned, and if anything, he felt fuller than before, his stomach agonizingly huge and swollen. Groaning, he slumped down on the couch, cradling his middle in both hands. A couple of seconds later, Luke appeared in the doorway, brow furrowing as he took in Mateo’s miserable state.
“You’ve gone really pale,” he said, worry leaching through his tone as he made his way over and crouched by the sofa. “Are you feeling sick again?”
"Really sick," Mateo confirmed, muffling a deep, gurgly belch into his fist. "Dinner was a mistake."
“Your mom’s cooking really is to die for,” Luke joked. He leaned forward, pressing his palm to Mateo’s forehead, then each of his cheeks. “No fever, so at least you’ve not picked up a bug from one of the kids yesterday.”
"If I was sick, I think I would actually die," Mateo groaned. His stomach hurt so badly, it felt close to bursting, every little churn and burble threatening to expel something from his overfull belly. He was reminded of a time when he was younger, sneaking into the kitchen and eating an entire pot of refried beans his mother had made for an event. He had been so pitifully and violently ill, Alma couldn't even bring herself to be mad at him.
Luke’s mouth twitched. Over the months, he’d become used to Mateo’s dramatics and hyperbole. “I think you’ll live,” he replied, straightening up. “Are you going to stay down here or do you want to go up to your room?”
Mateo paused. He really wanted to lie down in his bed, or at least take his blankets and make camp in his own bathroom, but the stairs still glowered down at him like the summit of Mount Everest. Seeing how longingly Mateo gazed upstairs, Luke made the executive decision.
"Come on, up you go. You'll feel better in your own bed," he said, hauling Mateo up easily and wrapping an arm around him for support.
"Not if I throw up in it," Mateo said morosely, hunching forward to cradle his belly.
"If you're feeling that sick, we can just go to your bathroom." Luke replied, unfazed as he guided Mateo toward the stairs.
“Please…,” Mateo mumbled, swallowing nervously. Even held up by Luke, his legs were shaking and weak under him, and he could taste bile rising in his throat.
Luke sighed worriedly, hurrying Mateo upstairs and into the bathroom. "Here, just get settled, and I'll bring your covers."
Mateo moaned, slumping against the side of the bathtub for support. He was hot and flushed, but Luke had insisted he didn't have a fever. His breathing was labored, his stomach once again keeping his chest from expanding fully, and his belly was so swollen, he felt like he might throw up just from the pain. The deep, watery gurgles in his stomach made him gasp and groan, clutching his middle as gas shifted in the agonizingly tight space. He was sure he hadn’t eaten enough throughout the day to feel quite this bad, but even trying to think it through made his mouth water ominously.
The bathroom door creaked, and Luke returned with Mateo's bedding bundled into his arms. He helped to set up a cozy little nest of blankets and pillows, sitting beside Mateo so he could be leaned on. "Still feeling like you're gonna puke?" He asked, peering worriedly at Matty's pale, sweaty face.
"Definitely," he mumbled, clutching his belly in the aftermath of a wet belch. Every time his abdominal muscles twitched, he found himself tensing in anticipation, painful burps making his stomach threaten to erupt. It seemed as though even the act of digestion had turned on him. He crumpled into Luke’s arms with a pathetic moan.
“I’ve got you,” Luke murmured, pulling him in for a hug. His nose wrinkled as Mateo let out another grating burp, but he didn’t pass comment on it, just saying, “Lean forward a bit, okay? Just so you don’t have to move too much when it happens.”
Mateo nodded compliantly, gingerly cradling his stomach as the change in position added pressure. "Ay, that hurts," he groaned, thick saliva dripping from his lips.
Luke reached out, rubbing firmly over his back. "You're okay. You'll feel a lot better once you're empty."
Mateo belched over the water, hand rubbing over his chest as the next inhale morphed into a thick hiccup. "'m never eating again…"
Despite how bad he felt for Mateo, Luke couldn't help laughing. "Let me know how that works out for you."
Mateo didn't have a chance to reply, a watery burp threatening to trigger a heave. He whimpered and clutched at his belly, "Ohhhh… ow."
Luke's face fell immediately. "Don't try to hold it in," he instructed gently. "You'll make it worse, trust me."
Mateo groaned, but he knew Luke was right. When his stomach hitched again, he let it happen, heaving over the bowl. The first heave was unproductive, but it led into another that brought up a trickle of sludgy sick. After that it was like the floodgates opened. A barrage of chunky vomit hurtled up his throat, three giant waves of sick spewing out of him in quick succession and coating the porcelain. It burned in his nose and tears began to leak from his eyes at the sheer force of it.
Luke grimaced sympathetically, reaching around to put a supportive hand on Mateo's chest. "Easy, there you go," he murmured, rubbing firmly up and down the trembling length of Mateo's back.
Briefly, Mateo's stomach seemed to settle, allowing him to catch his breath and rub his eyes with one shaky hand. He sniffled, grabbing a piece of toilet paper to blow his nose, and leaned back against Luke. His stomach still hurt terribly, and he rubbed a hand over it, coaxing up a sick burp. He groped around, searching for Luke's hand and resting it on his belly. Luke obliged, stroking gentle circles against his still-bloated middle.
"Still feelin' rough?" He asked, shifting a little so that Mateo was more comfortable against him.
Mateo nodded, leaning over the bowl for a watery belch. Saliva dripped from his lower lip and he hovered in place, anticipating another heave. Instead, he burped again, deep and wet, but nothing came up. He groaned.
"Oh Matty…," Luke sighed, slicking his sweaty hair back from his forehead. "You're okay, just let it happen."
"It hurts," he whined, resting a hand on top of Luke's on his belly. His stomach was still rolling, bloated and gurgling tangibly under Luke's gentle caress. He burped again but once more only bitter saliva dripped into the bowl.
Luke's brow furrowed and he leaned over to peer at Mateo's face. "How badly?" He asked, still rubbing Mateo's back reassuringly. "Scale of one to ten?"
"I don't know, like, a six?" Mateo sighed. "Like, I know it's nothing serious, but my stomach is killing me. God, I feel so sick…" his chest jerked with a sick hiccup, bile rising in his throat, and he leaned forward, desperate to just throw up and get it over with.
"Alright," Luke nodded, patting between his shoulders as he jolted with another hiccup. "Let me know if it gets worse though. You have insurance, right?"
"Um, yeah. I'm still on my parents'." Mateo said. "I don't think I need a doctor. Maybe a therapist, help me reevaluate my life choices."
Luke chuckled. "Well, if you've still got your snark, I'm not too worried. Think you're done?" He asked, seeing how Mateo hadn't actually thrown up in a while.
Matty shook his head morosely. "Still feel really nauseous," he mumbled, belching wetly over the bowl, "but everything is so heavy, it's just not coming up."
"Sit back and try to rest then," Luke encouraged. "You may as well if you're going to be at it for a while. I promise I'll make sure you don't puke all over the floor."
Mateo didn't seem encouraged, but he still leaned back against Luke, relishing the steady rhythm over his upset stomach. Luke's hand massaging his belly coaxed up a series of wet burps, making him groan but not throw up yet.
It was a while later, just as he was on the verge of dozing off, when his stomach contracted violently, immediately sending bitter sludge up into his throat. Luke had just enough warning to lean him forward, aiming Mateo over the toilet as he vomited profusely.
"Whoa, easy now," Luke murmured, rubbing his back while he belched wetly into the bowl. Mateo's only response was to retch loudly, heavy, greasy sick splattering against the toilet bowl with force. He burped up another fountain of vomit, coughing and sputtering and trying to catch his breath. Luke patted his back and he spit up a bit more sick, heaving weakly to bring up another trickle of puke. By the time he had finished, he was panting raggedly, shoulders heaving as he tried to catch his breath.
"…really don't feel good," he whimpered, wiping his mouth clean clumsily on his sleeve. "Dios…my stomach…"
Luke clucked softly, stroking Mateo's hair back where it had fallen in his face again. He pulled Matty back against his chest, squeezing him in a gentle hug. "You're alright," he murmured, "I gotcha."
"'m dying," Mateo groaned, flopping limply into Luke's grip. Although some of the pressure in his gut had abated, his belly was still churning slowly and ominously. With shaking hands, he tugged the duvet up around his shoulders. He knew he should wash his mouth out and maybe even get to bed, but he was so tired and so sure that the worst of it wasn't over that it didn't seem worth it.
It took all of Luke's coaxing and cajoling to scrape him off the bathroom floor and back to his own room. An hour later he was scrambling for the bathroom, this time bringing up a few watery streams of puke before the nausea relented. An hour after that, he was clutching the toilet bowl again, sobbing raggedly around desperate heaves. Luke had followed him back to the bathroom, holding him up so he wouldn't collapse on the floor.
Mateo barely even registered Luke holding him, preoccupied by the overwhelming nausea surging in his stomach. He heaved noisily again, but only a trickle of bile hit the water, his stomach empty despite how upset it was. Luke lowered him to his knees, and he dropped his head to his wrist with a low moan.
"You're probably pretty dehydrated," Luke said. "Let me know when you can stomach some water,"
"Never," Mateo croaked. "I'm going to die here."
“You’re not,” Luke replied, getting up to wet a washcloth and beginning to dab away the sweat from Mateo’s face. “You want me to get your mom?”
Mateo shook his head, groaning again. “Don’t bother her, she’s working tomorrow.”
"I think you're more important." Luke murmured, trying not to feel envious. "You're her baby, and you're only home for a few days."
Mateo wrinkled his nose, but any protest was cut off by a grating retch. Luke rubbed his back, watching worriedly while he continued to heave. Even after several minutes of gagging and belching, Mateo hadn't settled, though there was little more than stringy spit in the toilet.
"Matty, I think you're done," Luke said eventually. He took advantage of a brief reprieve to clean the spit from Mateo's chin. "Try to breathe…"
"Feel awful," Mateo croaked, leaning back against Luke's chest. He was no longer painfully full, but his abdominal muscles were sore from being sick so much, the aftershocks of nausea gurgling deep in his belly. His hands were shaky as he cradled his stomach, groaning softly. "Ugh, it hurts…"
"I know," Luke soothed. "Your stomach must just be really upset. Are you ready to go back to bed if I find you a bucket?"
Mateo nodded meekly, not moving from where he'd settled against Luke. His whole body felt wrung out, too weary to move. Luke eyed him for a moment before simply picking him up, patting his back reassuringly when he groaned.
"Just hold on a second, and I'll get you back to bed."
"Bucket's in the cupboard under the stairs," he mumbled groggily as Luke deposited him on the bed. He didn't even have it in him to roll over, just lying limply where he was left.
Luke sighed, ruffling Mateo's hair before stepping away. "I'll be back, okay?"
what about a sickie who hates throwing up because they get so weak and shaky afterwards, so every time they puke the caretaker just has to hold them while they shiver and whimper for like half an hour
