so I chugged the whole la croix without burping once. But then I didn’t feel like I wanted to burp at all and felt super nauseous. I took a big risk standing up and boy HOWDY am I glad I did!!!
lowkey not sure how to do asks but maybe leon x m!/gn!reader w a nauseous re4 or re9 leon…(ur choice!)..bonus points for leon being vulnerable and going up to reader cause his bellys upset n he doesnt wanna be nauseous alone..ahh idk
Settled
Re4!Leon x Gn!Reader
On a lazy afternoon while you work from home, Leon stumbles into the living room after sleeping in a little too late. But…something else seems off, too. Leon never turns down brunch.
Word count: ~2.7k
Tags/Warnings: re4!Leon, gender neutral reader, light angst, hurt/comfort, sickfic, reverse-comfort, physical whump, mentions of nausea (NO vomiting), soft content, stomach ache, cuddling, vulnerable!Leon, caretaker!reader, minor separation anxiety.
A/N: Anon, you have, in fact, successfully sent in an ask because this prompt had me in a CHOKEHOLD today. Nausea’s such an unwillingly vulnerable side to bring out in front of someone it’s just ghhhuhhhhh. re4!Leon ended up being easier to bend for this but I’ve got a juicy post-re9 idea sitting in my head now where reader helps Leon through some bad nasty side effects from elpis (if anyone’s actually interested?? lolol). For now, I hope this appeases your hunger!
You were filing a chain of overdue work reports when you realized Leon hadn’t gotten out of bed yet.
He came in late last night, late enough for you to already be showered and under the covers, the book you were halfway done face-down and abandoned somewhere in the duvet. You knew Leon was wired coming home when you woke up the next morning to find a tall glass of water on your nightstand. Your book was closed and bookmarked next to it, your reading glasses folded gently on top.
When you rolled over that morning, you spotted him sleeping soundly on his stomach, bangs pressed into the pillow he’d been clutching. Leon had been kind enough not to wake you when he returned, even if you wouldn’t have minded him wrapping his arms around your back and burying his face in between your shoulder and neck.
It was rare for both of you to have so much off-time together, but with the overflow of reports you had to get in and the big mission Leon had finally wrapped up, things had aligned nicely.
Well…nice enough for Leon. He could lounge around in bed all he wanted, but your supervisor would throttle you if your work wasn’t done and sent in by the end of the week.
When you’d gotten out of bed that morning, Leon hadn't woken up. It was rare, watching him sleep so deeply. He usually had the nerve to stir and roll over, complain about waking him up or pull you into him before you could leave. Instead, he kept his eyes closed peacefully, an arm curled under his pillow and the other pressed soft against his stomach.
You wished you could watch this rare side of him for hours. But you knew you wouldn’t get any work done from bed—not when sleep was so tempting. Sighing, you left him untouched and didn’t bother changing out of your pyjamas as you trudged over to the living room, where your mountains of paperwork still lay on the coffee table.
The time flickered by as you marked up, signed, and sealed each form. You cradled another cup of coffee in your grasp and the last of the muffins you’d baked earlier that week as you worked on.
You didn't bother looking at the watch sitting flat on the table. You hadn’t noticed how much time passed by since waking up. Not until you heard the bedroom door creak open from deeper down the hall. Leon’s half-asleep footsteps wandered into the living room. You glanced down at the clock and realized that the morning had long gone. By the time you saw Leon’s head poke into the room, it was well into the afternoon.
He must have been extra tired, you thought. Leon was usually up before you after a longer assignment. He winded down best the morning after, when you were more awake and the two of you could do something relaxing together.
“Rise and shine,” you spoke without looking up, scribbling down a few more notes for the paper-clipped pile of jargon sitting in your lap. “What time did you get in?”
“Four,” Leon murmured from across the room. You hummed in acknowledgment. He’d gotten more than eight hours this time around. It had been awhile since that happened.
“You were sleeping so soundly, I almost wish I took a picture.”
Leon ignored your teasing about his beauty sleep, heading into the kitchen. You heard the water running, but not the hum of the obscenely expensive coffee maker you splurged on last summer.
When Leon emerged, he had a tall glass of water in his hand. He drank half of it, setting it down on the coffee table, far enough away from your stack of paperwork. He sat down, quieter than usual. You wanted to poke fun at his sleepy silence, but figured he was just being considerate as you trudged through your work.
You flipped the page as Leon settled into the couch, staring off at nothing in particular. He held himself just inches away from you, knuckles brushing against his lips, other hand resting loosely against his abdomen.
“Want coffee?” You asked absently. Leon shrugged from beside you, muttering something you couldn’t quite hear. “If you give me until the end of this stack, I can make us brunch.”
Leon seemed to sink further into the couch at the mention of food. You registered it as a tired yes until your arm came out to wrap around his shoulder. Leon stiffened, his heart thumping nervously in his chest and pulsing through his back. You pulled your arm back and froze. The numbers on your page didn’t seem so pressing once you really realized how little Leon said since coming in.
You pulled your eyes away from your work, noticing only now that Leon looked far from relaxed. He looked like he was holding something back, shoulders hiked up to his ears, face set in a glassy frown.
“You’re quiet today,” you said, rubbing your hand up and down the curve of his spine. You expected a classic one-liner, some kind of joke about how you worried too much. Instead, Leon let out something in between a sigh and a groan.
It was enough to officially set you off.
You set your papers down and leaned into him, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into you. Leon seemed overwhelmed at first by the touch, before reciprocating the gesture more gently. He swallowed against your collarbone, his forehead sticky with sweat.
“Hey there,” you kissed the top of his head, smiling when he seemed to melt into your touch.
“Hi,” was Leon’s muffled response, breath hot against your sweater.
You knew Leon wanted to talk. He wanted the attention. Otherwise he would have spent the rest of the day alone, which…would have been okay too. But it had taken a long time to get here. Too much of swallowing down feelings and squashing old habits. You were both guilty of it, but what you loved most about Leon was how much he was willing to work at it. Leon worked so hard at everything he did.
“Doing okay?” You finally asked.
“Who says I’m not?” Leon quipped softly. You could tell by his voice that he didn’t feel like himself. Sweat stuck to his forehead, and you felt his breath jump as you let your fingers run through his hair.
You sighed, half-amused, and pulled him closer into your embrace. You let him rest his head against your chest, your legs tangled together.
“Because you never turn down brunch,” you murmured. “Today’s a slow day. I’m here if you need me.”
You squeezed Leon softly, feeling his exhale come out in short bursts through his nose. It always took a fair amount of coaxing to get him to admit what was on his mind. He’d been deployed for a while, but it wasn’t a field mission. Nothing violent. Nothing that might have set him off, unless there was something you didn’t know.
Leon swallowed again, breathing in sharply when he did.
“I just…I don’t feel good, I guess.”
You blinked back your surprise. The admission still sounded like he’d rather gargle glass, but you expected more pushback, a cutting remark or a quick subject change.
You could feel the heat radiating off his face and arms and felt a pang of sympathy in your chest as you stared down at Leon’s half-melted form. He must really feel rough if he was so ready to admit it.
“You’re not feeling well?” You sat up straighter, gathering the rest of him into your arms until you straddled his upper-half. Your hands swept his body up and down, as if trying to pinpoint the parts that hurt. “You wanna tell me in what way?”
You knew the difference by now, between a spiral of guilt, a bout of burnout, a physical wound, and the flu. But that was usually because Leon would conceal it until he couldn’t and came staggering toward you leaking with honesty. This time felt different, like maybe he was finally testing the waters of trust between the two of you and coming before things got bad.
“It’s really not a big deal,” Leon muttered into your upper arm. “Felt off going to bed and…you weren’t there when I woke up, so I just…”
He just didn’t want to be alone, you realized. Was that his way of telling you that?
Leon sounded so painfully out of his element. You knew it was hard for him to admit he just wanted someone around. He once told you after a few drinks that asking for what he wanted felt like he was jinxing it. It tore you up just thinking about it.
“You do feel a little warm,” You let your fingers fall from his hair down to his forehead. When you trailed down his chest through his t-shirt, you didn’t catch how his shoulders shivered a little against you. A fever might explain the lethargic symptoms, the loss of appetite. Maybe a case of the chills?
Your speculations halted when you brushed across his stomach and he flinched. You felt his abdominal muscles tighten, body tense as a painful-sounding hiccup wracked his chest. You felt Leon swallow instinctively against you, and your brain clicked with the realization.
“Your stomach doesn’t sound too happy,” You ghost a hand over Leon’s back until he seems to settle. Your heart plummets at the frustrated noise that came out of him.
“Yeah,” you watched him grit his teeth and breathe a little too shaky. “Yeah. Maybe that’s it.”
You slip a gentle hand beneath his shirt, warm hand on his even warmer skin. Leon curled into you, trying to stay silent as you traced comforting circles over his churning stomach. He hiccuped again, this one resulting in a thick burp. He stared up at you with a face so mortified, he looked like he’d rather be dead.
Oh, Leon.
“That sounded like it hurt. Are you nauseous?” You asked, knowing damn well that Leon didn’t want to talk any more about where exactly his weak points of the day were. He nodded, eyes a little glassier. You pressed on. “Do you think you’ll be sick?”
Leon shrugged at that. He’d taken to breathing slowly through his nose, some kind of grounding technique he’d probably picked up from training.
“Sounds like you caught something at work,” you tried to sound as neutral as possible. He didn't like coddling unless he was at the end of his rope. You didn’t want to push him any further. “You should sleep more. I can set you up in bed.”
“But you’re warm,” Leon muttered back, and your heart nearly skipped a beat. It was rare to see Leon so clingy. He tensed in your arms when his stomach flipped on its side again. He tried to backpedal, even if it was already too late. “I know you’re working today. S’okay. I can…”
“Stay right here?” You finished his sentence, though maybe not with the intended words. “I’m almost done for today. Why don’t we both sit tight for a bit?”
“…whatever you say.”
Leon’s head fell softly back onto you, one arm cradling his stomach while the other one curled around your waist. To appease Leon’s strange complex about needing others, your work was back in your hands within minutes. You didn’t want to risk asking him if he’d eaten anything weird. Whether food poisoning or a bad bug, the outcome would probably end up the same.
As you annotated with one hand, Leon had migrated downward, squished between your side and the couch cushion. He rested his head on your stomach, trying his hardest not to audibly react each time his body sent a dangerous signal down to his belly. You scratched the top of his scalp with your free hand, migrating down to rub softly at his upper back each time he muffled an uneasy burp into his fist.
When your stack of papers was finished, Leon was boneless pressed into you. Even asleep, he still held that frown that you’d always known as his hardened default.
Setting down the last of your work, you slipped off the couch and into the kitchen. As you waited for the kettle to boil, you rummaged around the medicine cabinet for the Tylenol and thermometer. The fact that Leon couldn’t stop shivering made you wonder if his upset stomach came with a fever, too.
The kettle hissed, and you poured the hot water into a mug bagged with ginger-lemon tea. When you came back out, Leon was sitting upright on the couch, arms wrapped tentatively around his stomach. His irritated face softened when he saw you.
“Have a nice nap?” You asked, grabbing the big blanket folded on the other end of the couch. You draped it over his shivering shoulders and sat down next to him. Leon grunted in response, nausea making him sway a little to the side.
“Fine.”
He sounded gruffer, like he was actively trying to shake off the clinginess from before. Once you were back down at his level, you turned Leon toward you and stuck the thermometer in his mouth.
“Open up.”
“N’t n’cess’ry,” he grumbled, the metal stick under his tongue muddling his speech.
“Pretty necessary,” you countered once the thermometer beeped a little too urgently. The fever was mild, but it was there. You passed him the Tylenol and the rest of his water from earlier. “This’ll make you stop feeling so hot. Can you stomach taking it?”
“You think I’m a kid or something?” Leon swiped it from your hand, clearly frustrated with how bad he felt. You didn’t miss the way his body convulsed after swallowing the pill. You could see him starting to detach, even if you knew that wasn’t what he wanted.
After drinking the tea in slow sips, Leon fell back into the couch, holding himself with a tired frustration. You waited for him to turn and look as you before you brought an arm around his shoulders again, pulling his head to rest lightly against the side of your arm.
“Sorry,” Leon finally muttered, a little breathless. “I’m not being fair.”
“You get a free pass. I’m sorry if you felt alone when you woke up,” you pressed a kiss to his forehead. Leon’s breath faltered at that. You knew you hit the nail on the head.
“Six years working as an agent, and I’m taken out by this,” Leon chuckled, a sarcastic smile on his face. His breathing started to return to normal. It hopefully meant the nausea was finally subsiding.
“Sickness doesn't discriminate,” you joked. “If it means I can get you in one place for the day, I’m not complaining.”
You shift your back up against the couch’s arm, opening yourself up so Leon can rest his head on your chest, body straddled between your open arms and legs. When you rubbed a soothing line from his upper back and down to his stomach, you kept yourself from giggling as Leon’s noises of approval vibrated against your skin.
“…m’taking you out for dinner once this is over. G’tting you whatever y’want…” Leon barely got out of his mouth, eyes closed and body limp. Of course he wanted to take back control. You knew it made him feel less exposed after vulnerable situations. You’d let him have his way tomorrow when he felt less gross.
Leon pushed through so much. You felt grateful that he came to you this time to get through it.
“Live through this first,” you snorted, holding him close as he finally drifted off.
Your work lay untouched for the rest of the afternoon. For Leon, your paperwork could wait.
A/N: and that’s itttttttt. There needs to be more sicky Leon in this world. And also I’ll never get enough of big spoon reader x little spoon Leon. Like…..he’s been through enough I just wanna hold himmmmmm
And of course, send asks, reqs, headcanons my way if we’re living on the same wavelength!!!!
• When the whumpee is vomiting and hunched over the toilet, but uses one hand to point to the whumper, or to direct the whumper to get something that they need.
• When the whumpee is coughing so hard to the point of a gag reflex, that eventually leads to vomiting.
• When the whumpee vomits into their hands, cause prior they were already covering their mouth.
• When the whumpee throws up mid-sentence, like they were trying to keep talking or explaining whatever it was before they got sick.
• When a whumpee is trying to speak, but then just keeps gagging in between words.
• When a whumpee thinks they are done vomiting, but their body says otherwise and they continue puking…
• When the nausea builds for a long time. The dry swallowing, gulping, breaking into a cold sweat, and then finally hits hard.
→ Bonus for audible stomach gurgling.
• When the whumpee apologizes between heaves and retches.
→ “I’m sorry, I can’t-ugh-’m sorry…”
• When they’re feverish and confused, and don’t even realize they’re sick until they’re throwing up.
• When the whumpee gags just at the smell of food or something nearby, showing how raw their stomach is.
