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If you still write for them-literally anything with Bo and Dell I love their dynamic

don't write for them much anymore, but i will for you! thanks ❤️

(contains emeto)

They've been tiptoeing around each other lately - probably because neither of them are able to decide what to say to each other. What level of intimacy is acceptable? What could possibly come of this?

It all ends the night of the gala. Dell's dressed in a more expensive suit than normal, Bo in the one he always wears to events like this. They're seated next to each other at one of the many round tables, though neither of them have said more than a few words to each other. It'd all be par for the course, except Dell is incredibly, horrendously, ill.

His head throbs, his body aches, he's burning with fever, and most of all, his stomach is in knots. He was up practically all night hunched over the toilet, and things haven't improved much since then. The only reason he's not been vomiting today is because there was absolutely nothing left to bring up. It won't be that way for long though. The dessert of their five course meal sits in front of them - a jiggling pile of chocolate mousse - and though he only had a few bites of each dish, it was enough to stir the nausea back up.

He's not sure if Bo knows - probably, but he hasn't made any comment on it if so. He's not sure whether he wants him to know or not. He wants some comfort, some care, but deep down it's not smart for them to engage that way with each other. Bo is an employee of the crown, he needs to be kept at a distance.

His mind is drawn back to his current predicament when his stomach gives a particularly harsh cramp. The food is sitting like a rock, and though he knows it's coming back up eventually, he hopes he can save that for when he's back in his own bathroom. He shouldn't have eaten in the first place, but it's rude to leave the food untouched. Now, he couldn't care less about rudeness.

Another cramp hits, and he clenches his jaw, pushing back from the table and making a beeline for the bathroom. It takes all his self control not to run.

"Dell?" Bo is calling after him but he doesn't look back. Luckily the bathroom is a single stall, so no one is around to hear when he empties his guts. He can barely hold himself up over the toilet bowl, his shaking arms wrapped tight around his aching middle.

There's a knock on the door and his whole body tenses.

"Dell? It's me," Bo says, muffled through the heavy wood door.

"Everything's fine," he says back, even though he knows his voice is shaking. He swallows hard, willing himself not to throw up.

"Let me in," Bo says, but Dell doesn't move. A long silence passes. "Please."

The worry in his voice makes Dell reach up and unlock the door. Bo slips inside quickly, immediately kneeling next to him on the tile. In that moment it just so happens that Dell is no longer able to hold back his second round of heaving. So much for keeping it a secret.

Bo's hand rests on his back, running up and down his spine. The touch is soothing.

When he's finally finished vomiting, Bo lifts his chins and wipes his mouth for him. His hands are tender and careful, one stopping to press against his forehead.

"You have a fever," he says quietly, and Dell almost laughs despite everything.

"I know." Bo smiles softly.

"Right, of course you would." He sighs, running one of his hands through Dell's tangled, sweaty curls. "You should've told me."

Dell swallows hard and leans back against the wall. His stomach is still cramping, but he's fairly sure he's empty now.

"I… I don't know. Things have been strange," he mumbles, and Bo takes his clammy hand.

"Just let me be here for you now, ok?" Dell nods, and closes his eyes as Bo pulls him into his arms.

#my writing #sickfic #illness kink #whump #fever #oc bo #oc dell #emeto #prompt fill