A little bit of super self-indulgent, almost completely plotless sickfic xox
âFive more minutes,â Jamie moaned, burrowing his head under the pillow as the shrill of the alarm pierced his sleep. He felt Ruairi shuffling beside him, heard the click as he turned off the alarm, let his boyfriend ease the duvet down a little and rub his back and press a kiss to his temple.
âIâll take the first shower,â Ruairi whispered softly, âthen you can shower while I make breakfast.â
âYouâre perfect,â Jamie sighed, his voice husky and slurred under the weight of sleep that he could feel almost as a physical mass sitting on his chest. It had dragged him back under before he could register anything else.
He came round again to Ruairi shaking his arm, water from his hair dripping in icy droplets onto his face. He forced his eyes open and felt Ruairi lift his hand away, but the swaying didnât seem to stop. He swallowed hard, rolling onto his back to try and ease the pitching sensation that had somehow crept from his shoulder to his stomach.
âCome on sleepyhead,â Ruairi encouraged. âUp and at âem.â
Groaning, Jamie threw an arm over his eyes. The more he woke up, the more he didnât want to, and he was becoming increasingly aware of a gnawing pain swelling steadily in the base of his abdomen. âI donât want to,â he muttered peevishly. âI donât feel well.â
Ruairi pulled the covers back, tugging Jamie up until he was sat on the side of the bed. âYou never do when itâs early,â he reminded him. âIâm sure a shower will make you feel better.â
Jamie dropped his head into his hands with a noise of disgust. He didnât agree in the slightest, but he didnât voice his disagreement.
âGo on,â Ruairi instisted. âIâll have breakfast ready once youâre done.â
Jamie hauled himself upright, folding his arms around himself as he stumbled to the bathroom. Clumsily, he stripped off his shirt, feeling every muscle protest as he did so. Maybe Ruairi was right, he thought, and a shower would fix him up. Theyâd volunteered to help setting up the Glitter Ball for the LGBT Society, and it really wasnât something he was keen to miss. So heâd shower, and eat something, and put on a brave face⊠He just needed to sit down first.
Clutching on to the radiator, he lowered himself onto the tiles, his head sagging towards his knees. He wasnât sure when heâd got so light-headed. He swiped his wrist over his face, wiping away the sweat that beaded on his forehead. He dragged in a deep breath, holding it for a little before blowing it out. Heat flushed through him. In. Out. The pain in his gut pulled together into a cramp. In. Out. In. Out.
Slowly, painstakingly, his vision cleared until he felt he could stand. He was about to reach over to turn on the water when his stomach gurgled and he quickly changed direction.
Ruairi glanced at the clock as he stirred the porridge. They only had about half an hour until they had to leave, and Jamie still hadnât shown his face. With a sigh, he switched the heat off and headed for the stairs.
âJamie, breakfastâs ready,â he called hopefully as he got towards his bedroom. âCome on or weâll be late.â
There was no response, which was odd, and he paused at the doorway wondering if heâd offended his boyfriend somehow. But the door was open, and although it was dark inside he could tell that Jamie wasnât there, nor could he hear the shower running from the bathroom across the hall. That door was locked though, and Ruairi knocked uncertainly.
There was a slight silence, and Ruairi ran his hands through his artfully tousled hair nervously.
âYeah, I⊠Iâll be out in a minute,â Jamieâs voice wavered. Ruairi frowned at the weakness of it, the way it sounded slightly strangled. He stepped away from the door and waited. After what seemed like an age, he heard the toilet flush, and the tap run, and then finally the door clicked open. Jamie stepped out looking drained, his skin pale except for the flush of fever bruising his cheekbones. He was stooped over, one hand still cradling his aching abdomen. Ruairi stepped forward straight away, gathering Jamie into his arms.
âOh, you really arenât well,â he murmured sympathetically, feeling the heat radiate off Jamieâs skin before heâd even touched him. Jamie shook his head where it was pressed into Ruairiâs chest, sniffling a little. Ruairi rubbed one hand comfortingly over Jamieâs bare back and Jamieâs weight sank against him a little more.
ââm sorry,â Jamie muttered hoarsely. He wanted to cry, could even feel the tightness in his throat and the stinging behind his eyes, even though he knew it was stupid to. âI really did want to go. I triedâŠâ His voice cracked on the last word and he swallowed back a sob.
âOh I know,â Ruari soothed, dropping a kiss onto his head. âItâs not your fault. Come on, letâs get you to bed.â He shifted so that his arm was around Jamieâs shoulders, guiding him back to the bedroom.
âYou should still go,â Jamie insisted weakly as he sank down on the edge of the bed, letting Ruairi pull the duvet back and rearrange the pillows for him. âYou canât let them be down two volunteers!â He lay back, curling up immediately onto his side and letting his eyes drift shut.
âI might go and set up,â Ruairi admitted, âif you think youâll be alright. But Iâd rather be here looking after you than at some fancy party worrying whether youâre okay.â
Jamie nodded, shuddering as his belly cramped again. âIâll be fine,â he breathed once it was over.
Ruairi bit his lip. âLook, if I get you some medicine do you think you could keep it down?â
Jamie flushed. âNothingâs comingâŠup,â he admitted sheepishly. âItâs more, um, likeâŠâ He trailed off.
Ruairi nodded. âDonât worry, it happens to everyone,â he reassured. âIâm going to get you some paracetamol then, youâll be more comfortable once your feverâs down.â
Jamie nodded wearily. âBut then you should go."Â
Ruairi spent the drive to the venue coiled tight as a spring, checking his phone so often he was almost certain heâd get pulled over for it. He knew, in theory, that Jamie was going to be fine and that years of boarding school had taught him to look after himself, but that didnât stop his stomach from twisting every time he thought of how vulnerable heâd looked curled up and shaking with fever. As soon as he reached the hall where the ball was being held, he pulled the head of the committee to one side, warning them that he might have to leave early. The last thing he wanted was to have to deal with that kind of hassle if it turned out that Jamie did need him. It didnât help at all that the work he was doing was repetitive and manual and left far too much space for his thoughts to run riot.Â
Jamieâs hand trembled, the glass clattering against the tap as he tried to fill it. Heâd slept for a solid hour after Ruairi left, but then had woken feeling so urgently sick he could barely stand straight. The only way he could describe it was that it was as if someone had poured acid through his intestines, dissolving them into a bubbling, angry mess of liquid. Heâd barely made it to the bathroom in time. Once he was done, and feeling so wrung out he struggled to believe he had anything more to expel, heâd staggered down to the kitchen and forced down a slice of toast in tiny little nibbles. Heâd hoped that plain food would be safe enough, but even the smell had turned his stomach. Heâd made his way slowly back to bed, and found himself unable to close his eyes without the room spinning around him until the twisting cramps hit a peak and sent him dashing back for the bathroom.Â
The second round had been pure torture. He wasnât even sat down before he was doubling over in pain, snatching the small bathroom bin into his lap to retch over raggedly, his body determined to purge itself thoroughly. Now here he was, barely able to hold a glass steady enough to take a drink. He squeezed his eyes shut, gripping tightly to the edge of the sink. He was of half a mind to call Ruairi to come home, or to go back to his own flat where Tristan would look after him, but he didnât think he was really sick enough to drag Ruairi away and the idea of walking anywhere didnât bear thinking about. Even wearing Ruairiâs loose tracksuit bottoms was vaguely uncomfortable around his tender midriff, so he didnât like his chances with the skinny jeans heâd worn the night before. As he took a reluctant sip of water, his stomach rolled dizzyingly and he lowered himself down to the bathroom floor for the second time that day. Tipping his head back against the wall, he set the glass down and cradled his hands against his midriff. His head throbbed woozily and he swallowed back the saliva that pooled in his mouth. He felt so sick. He wished he could just throw up and feel better, but given that he was running practically on empty that seemed like an unlikely prospect.
He stayed there for a long while, sucking in stuttering breaths and waiting for his stomach to descend from his chest, then slowly, unsteadily, made his way back to the bedroom and all but collapsed. He could feel that heavy, sticky, all over ugh feeling that was partly fever and partly dehydration, but the water was still curdling in his stomach in an entirely unnatural way, the rest of the glass forgotten on the bathroom floor.Â
He felt like heâd barely closed his eyes before he woke up again, shaking with cold and Ruairiâs sheets soaked through with sweat. He clambered unsteadily out of the bed. Black dots blurred across his vision as he pulled himself upright, and he had to clutch on to the bedside table waiting for the room to still again. Barely registering what he was doing, he rifled through Ruairiâs drawers until he found a fleece jumper. He tugged it on haphazardly, his hands trembling so badly that he struggled with the oversized sleeves. The gnawing ache just above his pelvis was escalating again, exacerbated every time the chilling cold juddered through him, and he groaned miserably as he fell back into bed and tugged the duvet tight around his ears. He could hear Ruairiâs flatmates in the house - Lucas singing in the kitchen, Nate and Aoife talking in the room next door - and he thought briefly about going to talk to them, just for some human contact and a little bit of comfort, but he couldnât quite find the motivation to move. So he just lay there, wound up and shivering and feverishly lonely.
He was still in that semi-wakeful haze of misery when he heard the front door bang. A moment went by before he heard the sound of Ruairi and Lucas conferring in the hallway, their voices low and worried, and somehow that was the impetus that dragged him out of bed, still huddled in the duvet. Ruairi looked up as he came down the stairs, brow furrowing and taking half a step towards him almost instinctively. He pulled Jamie in towards him and let him bury his head in his chest, petting his hair absent-mindedly as he finished his conversation with Lucas.
âNo better?â He dipped his head towards Jamieâs ear as soon as Lucas had wandered back into the kitchen. Jamie shook his head, sniffing a little. Heâd thought, somewhat optimistically, that just being held by Ruairi would make everything better. It usually did, but his stomach still hurt and his head still spun and he still felt on the precipice of tears. He leant heavily against Ruairi so that the other boy was basically holding him up, and closed his eyes. His stomach clenched warningly.
âI threw up,â he mumbled quietly, his face pressed into Ruairiâs chest.
Ruairi hummed sympathetically, rubbing Jamieâs back through the duvet. âIâm sorry,â he said quietly. âIâm here now.â
Jamieâs stomach clenched again, as if someone had stuck their fist in and twisted it. He pulled back with a whimper, pressing a hand against his belly. âI feelâŠ,â he paused, swallowing. âI think I need to be sick.â
Almost as if by magic a basin was shoved into his hands. He grasped onto it, barely registering Ruairiâs mumbled words of thanks before the kitchen door swung shut. He hung his head over it, slack-jawed, but although his stomach lurched enough for him to gag, nothing came up.
âI think youâre empty,â Ruairi said gently. He stroked Jamieâs head back from his sweaty forehead. âCome on, you hold onto that but letâs get you said down.â He grabbed Jamieâs elbow, leading him through to the living room. Lucas walked in as they were nestling themselves together on the sofa, and Jamie gave him a wan smile.
âSorry for the grossness,â he apologised sheepishly, taking great care as he took the water glass Lucas offered him.
Lucas shook his head a little, reaching over to ruffle Jamieâs hair. âIâd have kept an eye if Iâd known you were feeling rough,â he said good-naturedly. âBut I know now, so weâll do our best to make amends. How do you feel about soup?â
Jamie shuddered, grimacing at the thought of putting anything into his body â even the water was still a struggle.
Lucas smiled sadly, shrugging one shoulder. âThatâs okay. Iâll make some for when youâre feeling well enough.â
âThank you.â Jamie nodded, snuggling down as Lucas left the room. Ruairi shifted them both until they were spooned together on the sofa then laid one palm against Jamieâs gurgling belly, rubbing it slowly. Gradually, Jamie felt the tension in his shoulders slip away.
He still felt awful and nauseous and gross, but for the first time since heâd woken up, things seemed to be getting better not worse.
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