I haven't written for these guys in quite a while. But gosh I will love them til the day I die.
---------
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 coated 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'm cursed," Chris mumbled, out loud despite the fact he was alone, staring at the swirling water of his toilet.
Ever since morning he had been feeling out of sorts. At first, he had blamed it on sleeping wrongly, crumpled into some pretzel position that had caused his limbs to fall asleep, maybe? Then by the time lunch rolled around, he wasn't hungry. That was fine, but it was against the rules taped to his fridge, so it meant he had to eat. Important to keep himself alive and all that.
All he had been able to stomach was scrambled eggs and some apple juice, which immediately decided to riot inside of him and had him camping the bathroom for the best part of his day, fighting the nausea for the past two hours only to ultimately loose the war.
There had to be some sort of curse placed on him, because how in the hell he had managed to get some sort of stomach bug, a week after recovering from that horrible cold that had him incapacitated?
Across the house, his phone started to ring and he let out a loud groan, thumping his feverish forehead to his forearm resting on the toilet's rim. Who could be possibly calling him?
Emerald wasn't a caller, much more of a texter and his brothers only spoke to him once every other week. It could be one of his parents and that was the only reason Chris forced himself to get up and stumble out of the bathroom.
He wasn't in any mood to chit chat, but his parents were both well into their late sixties. He couldn't in good conscience ignore a call, even if he knew it was probably his mother complaining about Shark Tank or his father about football.
Lois Dawson.
Fuck, he'd rather it was his mother. Dawson was the hospital director, aka his boss, aka trouble. He squinted blearily at the screen, marking a little past 5 PM, then cleared his throat, picking up.
"Yes?"
"Hello, Dr. Lavin?"
"Hi, Dawson," he rubbed a hand over his face, "what's going on?"
"I'm so sorry to call today, I know you're on break-" oh no. Absolutely not. Chris' stomach clenched, mouth flooding with sticky saliva. They couldn't possibly want him in the hospital like this... "-one too many absences and you're my last resource."
"Ma'am," he groaned, rubbing the back of his achy neck, "I'd go in, but I can't-"
"I know it's your day off, we'll double your pay, Dr. Lavin," Dawson said, as if that was even a question. Of course they would.
"No, it's not that, I-" he pulled the cellphone away from his face, muffling a gurgly burp in his fist, "I'm sick, Dawson. Just puked my guts up."
There was a beat. A heavy sigh, "we'll keep you doing paperwork, I just need you to free one of the others, Chris," she had dropped the Dr. Lavin schtick, which meant business, "we're truly overflowing thanks to the bus accident that happened in the interstate and we're down six doctors, either because they're not in town or stuck in the jam or not picking up."
Damn his stupid luck for picking up the phone. He should've stayed on the bathroom floor.
"Fine," Chris sighed, pressing a hand to his stomach, hating the way it was sticking out and how sore the muscles were, "give me thirty minutes, I'll be down."
"Thank you," she sounded genuinely relieved. He rolled his eyes.
"It's fine," he brushed it off, muffling another gross belch by turning his face towards his bicep, "I- I got'sgo-"
"Yes, of course, of course- I'll make sure to warn Dr. Banks you'll be on paperwork only... Thank you again-" he barely heard the rest of what she said, pressing the big red button and lurching to the side with a violent retch, bringing up a mouthful of watery vomit on the monstera plant he had near his couch.
Fuuuuck.
By the time he had taken a quick shower to get rid of the cold sweat and changed into a more decent outfit than the black sweatpants and stained merch shirt he had been wearing all day, Chris was considering flat out not going. What could possibly happen? Would he get fired for being sick?
However, as much as he turned over that option, he still found himself behind the wheel, driving back to the building he had left just yesterday. Just because Welton General paid well and was the only hospital in the city, which he actually quite liked and had no prospects of moving from. Something something unfair market competition, Chris thought sourly, thinking of Lex, his brother, and how indignant he had been about Welton's makeup. Not one for small towns, no matter if it was a university town with a beautiful backdrop.
He hung out of the car, spitting on the parking lot's floor as soon as he opened the door and taking slow, deep breaths to stop his stomach from fully crawling up his throat. His head was throbbing, but not enough he could hang out in the parking lot for longer than five minutes, acutely aware he was already fifteen minutes later than the thirty he had promised Dawson.
"Dr. Lavin," speaking of the devil, Lois was waiting for him as soon as the elevator door opened on the first floor, hands clasped and a tight smile on, "thank you so much for coming."
He let out a grunt, because what did she want to hear? No problem? Of course there was a problem, he was sick and he'd rather be anywhere but there.
"I already talked with Dr. Banks," she gestured for him to follow, as if Chris didn't know the way to the office areas. Paperwork was easy enough, normally he was spectacularly good at it. Not to say he was a bad doctor, he knew he wasn't, but he was also aware he didn't have the necessary patience to deal with patients freaking out or, worse, their partners freaking out. God, he hated dealing with parents, he'd rather off himself than talk to crying mother.
Lois guided him inside the office, "we have Dr. Banks and Dr. Peters on rotation today," she cringed, since that number was scarily low. Hell, only Jonah and Claire? Not a single senior doctor? This hospital was running on hopes and dreams.
"On- Those are just the ones doing the rounds, right?" Chris collapsed on the chair behind the desk, already pulling the trashcan with his foot when the simple jostling of sitting down made him taste eggs all over again, "there are other's in the OR?"
"Dr. Marshall and Stewarts, just for the emergencies, we've rescheduled all that was in for the night," Lois nodded, much to his relief. Still bad, but not so bad they might as well shut the hospital down for the night. As if that was an option, "I'm still trying to reach Henderson and Chen, they're the only ones who haven't responded yet, so maybe..." Lois trailed off and Chris cringed, a new wave of nausea hitting him that had nothing to do with the stomach bug. Four, well five counting with him, doctors in the whole hospital was really, really fucking bad.
"Garcia is coming in the morning!" She perked up, as if sensing the panic starting to grow in him, "and we're getting a lot of patients redirected to Portland- It's going to work out."
"Of course," his mouth was sticky. Chris gulped down, "lemme get to work then."
"Thank you again," Lois sounded incredibly apologetic, "I'm gonna warn the nurses that you're sic-"
"No!" The sheer mortification of it nearly caused him to jump, "no need. I'll be fine."
Liar, a little voice whispered in his ear, stomach already churning again, that slow but constant manner that told him he was done for. Maybe not now, but soon.
"Uhm- Of course," Dawson sounded surprised by his outburst, "I'll let you work, you know where to find me."
Finally his boss left and Chris promptly planted his elbows to the table, burying his face in his hands and groaning. Fuck his life.
Paperwork was harder when he felt like absolute crap, but at least it was something to take his mind off of his stomach. He fished out his earbuds from his work case, putting only one so he could still hear the outside noise and listened to music as he decoded several different doctor's notes into insurance claims and what not.
Normally he found this part of his job rather therapeutic. Claire, Dr. Peters, didn't understand it. She always got antsy and started moving around the office when they shared it. Banks seemed to be in his wavelength, just as long as they didn't exchange a single word. For some reason Jonah Banks seemed to enjoy being the biggest pain in the ass alive. Marshall was the same as Claire, only worse. Chris could count in one hand the amount of office hours they had ever shared, because she'd do anything in her power to avoid it. Henderson complained the whole time and Chris had considered homicide more than once. He'd rather work with Banks, with whom he had had several conflicts, than withstand Henderson's monotone blabbing.
Chris' stomach rolled and he kicked the trashcan closer, leaning over it to spit the saliva accumulating in his mouth. He was probably gonna puke soon, but he had taken some Gatorade before leaving home and he did not want to risk becoming dehydrated. Not only it would be humiliating enough in normal circumstances, but when the hospital was running on fumes? So when the blue saccharine liquid tried climbing up, Chris gulped it back down, shuddering as he could literally feel the goo sliding down his throat.
"Lavin," Banks slammed the door, "we need you in the ER."
If Chris was a slightly better person, he'd have taken Bank's serious voice as the don't argue signal it was and obeyed. Except he wasn't.
"I'm not on ER tonight," he kept his eyes firmly on the computer screen, twirling the pen between his fingers, "Dawson called me for desk duty, not to wrangle snotty children."
"No," Banks scoffed, walking further in, "Dawson called you to help and you bitched your way into desk duty, when we actually need an extra set of hands in the ER. Now get off your ass, we're crammed and Claire and I cannot take it all by ourselves."
"Then call Marshall or Stewarts, Dawson said-"
"Wendy is already in the ER intubating someone and Stewarts just entered surgery. Get off your ass," Banks' tone was always so fucking arrogant. King of the world. Chris had always found it a bit amusing that Jonah seemed to think that just because he had that stick permanently shoved up his ass and a mean mug, he could get things his way.
"You can scream and kick all you want," rolled his eyes, which was a bad idea because a jolt of pain stabbed his skull. Low blood sugar, his brain supplied and his stomach complained. No fucking way he was gonna eat something, no matter how much his body demanded it. He could still taste the lunch eggs, "but I'm on desk duty. I'm sick."
"Oh, fuck off!" Banks snapped, "we're gonna loose a patient, there's simply not enough of us. You can't sit here filling insurance claims when we've got eleven fucking cots busy downstairs," he stepped closer, Chris wondered if Jonah thought he could scare him. Maybe that shit worked on nurses or with Claire, but not with him.
"Like I said," Chris cleared his throat when his voice came out too deep, coated in annoyance and sticky saliva, "I'm sick. I can't be in the ER."
"We have a stroke downstairs and if we lose her because you were too busy doing crosswords to come help, I'll make sure to move a lawsuit for malpractice against you myself."
A stroke patient changed things.
He had been under the impression tonight was busy in the sense there were two doctors for far too many drunks, kids with pneumonia coughing everywhere, food poisoned fuckers shitting everywhere. A stroke-
He got up and ignored the victorious expression on Banks' stupid face.
The idiot now would probably think his stupid lawsuit threat had worked, as if Chris wasn't well aware he was in the function given him and who was actually committing malpractice was Banks, wasting time arguing with him instead of doing his job. Again, that shit probably worked with doctors who were a little more green.
Talking about green, his stomach wasn't one bit happy about the change of scenery.
The ER was chaos, Chris was shoved into the direction of the head nurse and then somehow he ended up being bossed by Claire, whose face was all pink, blonde hair sticking to her temples as she huffed, moving around.
The stroke patient was a woman in her late eighties, who was barely responsive. Chris wasn't sure why the fuck Marshall wasn't all over her, considering Wendy was to neurologist of their group, and it was only once he was going through her imaging that he understood. It was ischemic and, surprisingly, venous instead of arterial.
The tight squeeze in his chest — pure, unmitigated guilt for not being there sooner — vanished. She was already on an IV and under observation, nothing to be done and her surviving rates were great. He breathed out....
Then got thrown into the deep end, by Claire lifting her eyes and saying "help!?" in a pitiful voice as she manhandled a drunk man into his cot, smelling like piss and seizing due to alcohol.
By the time he was able to stop moving around, two and a half hours had passed. He had long forgotten about his stomach bug or about his office hours, in flow state as he moved from patient to patient, taking in what was pouring through the doors.
Henderson arrived at 9 PM and Chen at midnight. Chris' headache increased from annoying to unbearable around 10 PM and he was having to move to the bathroom every fifteen minutes or so to cough over the toilet by the time they reached midnight. His knees felt weak and his whole body was aching.
And, as was always the case with the ER, as easy as the chaos had started, it ended.
Claire let out a breath, stumbling into the doctor's lounge, wiping her forehead with the inside of her wrist, "holy fuck," she collapsed on the couch, "I can't feel my feet."
He wanted to ask if she was on a twenty four hour shift, because Chris was pretty sure he had seen her in the hospital that morning when he left to go home, but he was scared of opening his mouth. His stomach had long passed "unsettled", hell, it had long passed "throwing up". He had forced himself to drink water and it had all come back up, tinged blue at first, now a weird lime green. Not good, Chris knew, vaguely. He couldn't remember why, though.
The revolving doors opened again, Banks walking in as he already removed his coat, because of course the snotty prick favored the pristine white lab coat instead of the regular dark scrubs anyone sensible would wear. Had to virtue signal he was a doctor, since that was all of his personality.
"Are you okay?" Jonah asked and Chris raised his eyebrows, confused and shocked, before realizing the question wasn't directed at him, but rather at Claire, boneless on the couch.
"Yeah, mmm'gimme just fine-five..." His coworker mumbled, sleepily. Yep, she was definitely pulling a twenty four hour shift. Chris didn't envy her, although now that he thought about it, he kinda was too. He had done yesterday's graveyard shift, then left the hospital at 6 AM and slept until 10 AM, when he had woken up all achy. Then the bathroom camping...
"-reporting you to the board-" Banks was suddenly right in front of his eyes, looking furious. He had a really angular face and when he looked this pissed, Christopher thought Jonah looked cat like. Light eyes squinting, might as well have slits for pupils.
He was tripping.
"What..?"
"While you were hiding in an office, we nearly lost two patients-"
"I wasn't-" he started, frustrated, but his tongue felt too heavy and big for his mouth, there were a bunch of colorful little dots around of Jonah's unruly curls. Glitter.
"-said you were sick? Yeah, sick where?" Jonah scoffed, "as soon as you were down there with us-"
Chris rolled his eyes, immediately regretted it when the room swam. He was freezing. On the couch Claire stirred, opening her exhausted eyes to glare at them.
"Can you two measure dicks outside?"
"Malpractice doesn't fucking cover it, you're lazy and entitled and-"
He took a step back, because Jonah apparently thought "personal space" was optional, only for his foot to seemingly meet thin air. His knee folded and suddenly he was on all fours on the floor, head swimming and blood drumming in his ears.
The nausea was stronger than it had been even in the morning, flooding him and causing him to retch violently. Nothing came up, but his stomach spasmed again. He clutched the rug, curling his fists so much that his knuckles turned white, as the room swam-
"What the hell?" A hand that was too soft to be normal grabbed his chin, forcing their eyes to meet. Green- No, hazel. Jonah's eyebrows drawn together, confused-
Chris retched again, freeing his chin from Bank's limp hold and coughing violently. Something boiling hot crawled up, his mouth tasted salty and then he belched a splash of something neon yellow all over the rug, and the front of Bank's pants.
He wasn't a crier, not normally, but his whole body was shaking violently and his head was pulsing and his thoughts were all over the place, so Chris felt his eyes prickle with tears. He bit down on his lip, hard enough to draw blood, fighting the wave of sickness induced panic. The taste of blood made him gag again, more bitter bile falling on the pile, burning his now wounded lip.
"He seems sick to me," Claire's voice filtered through the drumming in his ears and suddenly there was a hand, much smaller and sure, grabbing his shoulder and pushing him to sit on his heels instead of being on all fours. His stomach spasmed again, more watery vomit rocketed up, his self control long melted by exhaustion and it ran down his chin and wet his dark scrub shirt.
"He's not responsive," Claire patted his cheek and he wanted to say he was very responsive, except that what came up was a whimper. He'd have to quit his job, this was too humiliating to come back from, "fuck, Jonah page a nurse! Don't just stand there! We gotta get him on an IV, he's dehydrated like hell."
Thanks to the Amazing @shattered-sky for helping me with the title.
It started as soon as you got off the plane. Hayden suddenly complained of nausea. As you walked through the airport with Briar in Tow.
You rub his back as you walk beside him. “We’ll find a bathroom in a minute ok? Let’s at least get to baggage claim yeah?”
He nods and swallows heavily.
Once at baggage claim you grab your extra luggage while Hayden rushes off to the nearest bathroom.
“Is dad feeling ok? He was asleep almost the whole flight.” Briar asked.
You shrugged. “I don’t know sweetheart dad might have a stomach bug.” You say.
Briar frowned “he’ll miss Christmas.” She said worriedly.
“Well we’re here for a while so hopefully he’ll be better by then if not we’ll figure something out ok?” You tell her. “Now why don’t you go look for Uncle Tove’s truck while I check on your dad? Stay with the luggage please.” You explain.
Briar nods and starts watching the cars outside while you hunt down Hayden. You head towards the nearest men’s restroom.
You stand outside the restroom area waiting for him. Soon Hayden emerges looking worse for wear.
“Oh Hayden.” You wrap your arm around his waist. As you help him walk to where Briar is sitting near the luggage.
“I see Uncle Tove’s truck!” She says as soon as you both approach.
“Perfect timing.” You say as you step aside from Hayden to grab the coats so everyone can put them on before stepping out.
Once outside in the freezing Canada air. Tove gets out to help with the luggage.
“Hey!” Tove greets you and hugs Briar and frowns upon seeing Hayden holding his stomach protectively.
“You ok bro?” Tove asked.
Hayden shook his head.
“I think I’m getting sick.” Hayden said weakly.
You nod. “I think it’s a stomach bug it just hit him.”
Tove frowned. “Why don’t you sit in the back with Briar? Maybe that will be better than up front.”
Hayden nods “yeah that might be a bit better thanks.”
Tove helps you load the last of the luggage into the back of his truck. Before helping Briar in. While you helped Hayden to sit next to her. Before joining Tove up front in the passenger seat.
The ride to Hayden’s parent’s house was mostly filled with conversations between you, Tove and Briar.
Hayden stayed quiet with his head leaning against the window.
“How you doing Hayd?” Tove asked.
Hayden swallowed hard before answering.
“Mm not good how much longer?” He asked weakly.
“Twenty minutes left. Let me know if I need to stop.” Tove says.
Hayden nods and coughs.
Briar reached for his hand and Hayden smiled weakly at her.
“Thanks kiddo” he said weakly.
Thankfully there was no incident. Hayden ended up falling asleep the last few minutes of the ride.
Getting out though was another story.
Tove helped you and Briar out of the truck and Briar grabbed her carryon bag and rushed inside.
Hayden slowly got out of the car and immediately threw up on the snow covered driveway.
“Oh Hayden sweetheart.” You rub his back as he heaved.
“Oh goodness. You ok Hayden?” Tove asked. Once his brother was done coughing and heaving.
Hayden nodded.
“We’ll be in a minute ok Tove? You mind helping with the luggage and keeping an eye on Briar?”
Tove nodded “of course.”
While Tove went and grabbed the luggage. You let Hayden catch his breath for a moment before heading inside.
Once inside you greet his sisters and parents and help Tove bring the bags upstairs. You catch snippets of Hayden’s conversation in French with his worried mother.
“Oh mon pauvre petit, tu n'as pas l'air bien.” She says concerned.
“C'est juste une grosse maman, je vais m'en sortir.”
He says weakly trying to make his mom less worried. But knowing it wouldn’t work because mothers will always worry no matter what you try to tell them.
You continue setting up the guest room for you and Hayden. Then make sure Briar’s stuff is in the room she’s sharing with her cousins before heading back down.
“Hayden’s claimed the bathroom down here.” Hejesa said as she pointed in the direction of the main bathroom.
You frown. “He slept the whole flight and was nauseous as soon as we got off the plane. Puked at the airport and when we pulled up here.” You explain to her.
Hayden’s mom frowns “he wasn’t sick before the flight?” She asked.
You nod. “I’ll go check on him. Hejesa can you grab pillows and a blanket or two? I have a feeling he claimed the bathroom for his day sick spot.”
“We can handle that if you want to go take a minute. Briar’s with her cousins in the basement. And you’re a guest too.” Says his father.
You smile. “It’s ok David thank you really.”
Just as your about to go grab blankets and pillows with Hejesa you hear Hayden gagging and trying to call out.
As you try to go help him his mom stops you.
“We’ve got it from here please go take care of yourself for a bit. You take such great care of him and we can handle Hayd for a while.”
“Mom help.” You hear Hayden cry which just about shatters your heart and hers as well.
“We’ve got him go take a shower and take some time to rest yourself.” Hejesa says as she practically shoves you towards the stairs.
You hear Hayden’s mom talking softy to Hayden and trying to calm him down. You sigh as you make your way upstairs.
“I don’t feel good mom.”
“Oh Hayden I know sweetheart you’ll be alright.”
Once in the quiet of the quest room upstairs. You kick off your shoes and collapse onto the bed. Not realizing how exhausted you are.
You don’t know how long you’re asleep for. But awhile later you are awoken by Kaylen waking you.
“Hey Hayden’s asking for you”
“Mm what? How long was I out?”
“A good few hours. Hayden was clinging to mom for a while but now he’s asking for you since mom had to go run some errands.” Kaylen explained.
You nod and get up.
“How bad is he now?”
“Still puking and started having diarrhea about an hour ago? Mom and dad are out grabbing meds and stuff.”
Together you and Kaylen head downstairs.
The bathroom door is open and Hayden’s curled up on the floor wrapped in blankets.
He perks up as soon as he sees you.
“Hi my dove. Did mom leave you?” You say as you join him in the large main bathroom. You close the door to no one has to see how pitiful he is.
He crawls onto your lap as soon as you sit down. You kiss his sweaty hair. The fan in the bathroom is on whirring overhead as you sit on the floor with a very sick Hayden on your lap.
Hayden coughs as you rub his back.
“I really don’t feel good. Why’d it hit so fast?” He asks weakly.
“I wish I knew my love. Have you tried to have any water at all?”
He nods
“It ran right through me. I feel so bad.”
“Oh I bet you do Kay said you got worse while I was upstairs.” You say. “What was your temperature? Did they check it?”
“Yeah 102.9”
“Oh Hayd no wonder you’re so miserable.”
You end up staying with him until his parents return from the pharmacy.
You manage to coax him out of the bathroom long enough to attempt to drink some Pedialyte and try to get some meds down.
“Are you feeling better Dad?” Briar asked as she came into the kitchen for a snack.
Hayden takes a swig of Pedialyte and swallows heavily.
“Not yet kiddo I’m trying.” He says with a weak smile.
Briar nods and races off to find her cousins.
Hayden’s mom rubs his back.
“At least you’re here to rest. Vacation or not rest is something your body is clearly begging for.” She said as she kissed his head.
“Mom you’ll catch this and it’s kicking my ass!” Hayden whined.
“Language!” His mother admonished.
“What it’s true!” Hayden said.
“Alie don’t rile up the poor boy.” Hayden’s dad said.
You chuckled.
“Whys mom mad at Hayden?” Hejesa asked as she came to see what was going on.
“She’s yelling cuz Hayden said this stomach bug is kicking his ass.” You explain.
Hejesa giggled.
“Sorry mom’s giving you such a hard time Hayd.”
Hayden’s mom ruffled his hair.
“He still needs to be polite. Besides the kids are here.”
“They didn’t even hear it Alie don’t you worry.” You replied.
“Seems like the med is starting to work want to go rest on the couch instead Hayden?”His father asked.
Hayden nodded and slowly got up but suddenly he felt a wave of dizziness and nausea upon standing. He stumbled back towards the bathroom trying not to gag. Quickly and carefully you and Hayden’s mom helped him move back to the bathroom.
He dropped to his knees in front of the toilet before puking. Hayden was upset not just from illness but because how little he had managed to get down.
You and his mom try to get him to settle down as panicking will only make him feel worse.
“Maman, je ne me sens pas bien.” Hayden whimpered.
“Oh honey I know. Take some deep breaths for me. It’ll be alright.” His mom said as she grabbed some washcloths to wet them with cool water from the sink to wipe his face and try to cool him off.
Eventually he did settle down and fell asleep with his head in your lap.
“We’ll check his temperature when he wakes up again.” His mom suggested.
You nod.
“This is some bug he’s got it’s really hit him hard. I can’t remember the last time he was this sick.” His mom says worriedly.
“I know I think all the traveling, conventions and events finally caught up with his immune system.” You say.
You and Hayden’s mom spend the rest of the afternoon trying to make sure Hayden’s comfortable.
By dinnertime he’s awake but not much better the nauseas so bad he can’t join dinner.
Once you finish eating you go Check on him and bring him a plate of saltine crackers and more water.
“Hey let’s try again ok?” You say softly as you sit beside him on the floor with the tray in your lap.
He nodded and slowly sat up.
“I’ll ruin Christmas.” He said sadly as he grabbed a cracker to nibble.
“Oh honey why would you say such a thing?” You ask.
He shrugs “it’s just I feel so bad. And like it hit so fast and..”
“Shh. Don’t get yourself worked up. We’ll figure it out if you still don’t feel good by Christmas I promise. That’s why we come early enough remember?”
He nods
“But you got sick last year the day after we got here.” He says.
You nod remembering how you had caught a cold the day after arriving. You had rested most of the trip until finally recovering the day after Christmas.
“I won’t let your illness take over our holiday ok? We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Getting worked up over it will only make you feel sicker. I felt that way when I was worrying about the holidays when I was feeling bad.”
You play with his sweaty curls as he eats and drinks a bit. Soon he curls up in your lap exhausted.
Come bedtime you get him settled in bed with extra sheets and a bucket next to his side of the bed. You help him with a nice warm bath so he can feel more comfortable to rest. The bath helps lower his fever some.
He’s as clingy as ever because of how sick he feels but you’d never have it any other way.
Thankfully come Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Hayden’s well enough to join in the celebrations.
“I’m the Christmas miracle this year.” He says with a chuckle.
Hello everyone ... ♡ I have been very sick all week but finally feeling better ... I ended up taking myself to the doctor to get some medicine because I was so nauseous constantly ... I will post more audios this week but for now, here is the one where I finally puked ♡
It was the morning after my post recent audio ... I spent most of the night gagging and emptying out from the other end but never puking ... I was so upset, all of that stuffing gone to waste ... I drank lots of water and early that morning I got up to go to the bathroom again and I gagged so hard when I pushed that I thought I was going to throw up into my hands ... I sat down on the floor in my underwear and leaned over the bathtub for a while and rubbed my nauseous belly, burping and burping ... I was so tired and not expecting to puke but finally it came up and it felt so good ♡
Ok warning most people are probably gonna find this disgusting!
My stomach has been upset the whole day but that wasn't a new sensation to me- neither were the full body muscles ache, the nausea, the headache or the snotty nose. So i'm sitting in the shower, and my stomach bloated and aching - so I decide to let out some farts.
After I force out a few farts- they start flowing out on their own, than I feel a change. There's now a semi urgent pressure on my bowels- but my stomach hurts so much and letting out farts helps so much! So I push again- and am met with mushy poop filling my ass crack. fuck.
I immediately panic- which makes my body push out even more mushy poop- and I moan. I should feel disgusted but it feels so good on my stomach that I don't even mind the sensation of the warm mushy poop escaping my butt-squishing between my ass cheeks and filling them up before spilling beyond them.
I'm so engrossed in my mushy poop that I don't even realize my nausea has increased until I push out some more mushy poop and gag. I take a deep breath and try exhaling as I push again- but instead I start vomiting all over my chest and lap. Ugh- did I catch a stomach bug?
Kieran with stomach flu with Isaiah caretaker, part 2.
Kieran was absolutely miserable.
The second he stepped into the safe space of the wooden cabin with beautiful, if dusty, furniture, he knew he was about to vomit.
Barely made it to the toilet before he was throwing up in a huge gush—the cheap black coffee, the toast, and the eggs.
Nausea rocked through him in violent waves, saliva dangling from his bottom lip. His heartbeat was somewhere in his ears, his stomach spasming for round two.
He moaned in protest, shirt glued to his back like a second skin. Heat rolled through him, so unbearably hot he retched again. This time it came up more sluggish, the half-digested spaghetti he had with Alessia for dinner the night before making a nasty reappearance.
Kieran reached over to press the flush button, but midway through burped up another red-brown torrent all over the seat and side of the toilet.
The sight had him gagging over the rim for another 10 minutes, his stomach muscles screaming from the spasms.
For some reason, his belly still felt full and sloshy as if he didn't just throw up most of its contents. He felt like a gas balloon, pressure on top, in the middle, and in his lower belly. That end would soon be calling for attention too.
Blinking hard, he forced himself to his feet to splash cold water on his face and wash out his mouth. Just the sip of water on his tongue made him gag, though, a string of burps leaving him braced against the sink for support.
Dizzy from the weakness that followed, he forced the window open before kneeling—or more like falling—to the floor to clean up the mess. Holding his breath for good measure.
The warmth of the cabin led him to open all the windows, the fresh mountain air feeling nice against the overheated skin and dusty living room. Scent of wet earth filled the air immediately.
He found a trash can, covered it in a bag and brought it over with him to the sofa. Once he collapsed on it he knew he wouldn't be able to get up, legs quivering from having to stand for so long.
Jesus, where did this bug come from?
He got literally sick once or twice a year. How unfair was it to get sick right now? Deep in Wolfson territory with the unique opportunity to meet Grayson Wolfson?
Tucking his bag next to the sofa for good measure, he finally let himself sit down. The sofa was stiff from disuse but had two pillows and a blanket folded at the end.
The cabin itself was nice and wooden, exactly the kind he liked for vacationing. Or would love to own one day. But it lacked any personal touches. No paintings on the walls, no pictures, candles, magnets, decorations. Looked ready to be rented out if not downright unlikable. Robbed out.
Probably wasn't Isaiah's main place of residence, but one of the many cabins he had access to. Leaders' families and their closest members in rank lived in giant villas with yards inside, with everyone having their own wing of rooms. Wolves preferred a lot of space.
The cabins sat a few hundred meters apart—overflow for wolves who needed space or for visiting packs. This was still on the periphery of the central point where the wolf meet would take place, though it seemed Grayson had his own residence just for work meetings.
Kieran let himself fall down face first against the cushion. It felt good to be horizontal and unmoving.
Of course, now that he was lying down, the cold air started to feel like razors against his skin. Chill crept up his arm, making him huddle into a protective ball around his middle for warmth.
His stomach felt full and tender, each gurgle sending painful twinges across his abdomen.
If he took paracetamol and anti-nausea meds, could he make it to Grayson's residence? Wait under the window or something? See Isaiah's reaction right after?
Shame he didn't have any meds with him. He also didn't bring any water, the small kitchen sink miles away from where he was lying.
At least the cold helped against the nausea, because while it rose and ebbed in irregular intervals, it didn't get to spewing territory.
Trying to count the minutes it would take to walk the rest of the 19-minutes drive, he fell asleep.
...
It was dark when he woke up, the grayish haze of vibrant green from the windows now full of shadows.
There was a roughly textured blanket on top of him, which was the first thing he registered.
The second thing was Isaiah, in his suit and coat, sitting unmovingly in the armchair next to him.
"Wh't time's'it?" Kieran mumbled, turning to his side slowly to not upset his stomach.
"Little after ten," Isaiah said. His eyes shone like green signal lamps in the darkness, suddenly very fitting to the strict, bare living room of the cabin.
Kieran cleared his throat. His lips were cracked and dry, and the metallic taste in his mouth made him wince. His stomach was gurgling something fierce, and he palmed it under the blanket in unease.
"I stopped by the pharmacy," Isaiah said, voice weirdly cold and mechanical. "You should drink the rehydration solution. Even a few sips will help."
"What a thief," Kieran croaked, "taking my car without asking."
That earned him a disbelieving look and then a flash of a smile. It must have been quite a long drive, out of the forest and then some to the nearest town for the pharmacy.
"You feeling any better?"
Kieran shrugged, cradling his stomach in both hands. A violent shiver ran through him, the motion painfully jostling the sensitive organ. A burp came up, embarrassingly loud in the quiet room.
"I'll take it as a 'no'," Isaiah said, his voice a little warmer.
Salive was flooding his mouth again, a queasy hiccup dragging out of his throat. Kieran swallowed against the nausea, trying to concentrate.
"How did it go?"
The little light in Isaiah's posture went out again, shoulders straightening against the backrest of the armchair, arms on the armrests. Way too still, as if bracing for something difficult.
"Not as bad as I thought."
"But it lasted for hours." It had been around lunch when they arrived. Kieran wasn't sure how long ago Isaiah came to watch him.
"A couple, yes."
Kieran frowned, pushing the pillow under his head to get a better view. "I would expect your uncle to side with you. What is there to go bad?" Wolves were incredibly loyal and pack or not. Grayson was Isaiah's family, that should matter.
"It may come as a surprise for you, but the Wolfsons aren't exactly big fans of their exiled and diswoned heir."
That made Kieran struggle to sit up properly. His breathing got all labored before he managed.
"Yeah, yeah, but they still profit from your reputation. You can't deny that having an Executioner come from their line gives them a major boost in negotiations, no matter what personal beef you got with them."
Isaiah sank deeper into the armchair, head lolling towards Kieran. "Putting it another way then: Grayson doesn't like me."
"No surprise there." Kieran had to swallow the excess drool. A cramp went through the side of his belly and he followed the pain with his hand, trying not to wince. "You defeated your leader and then let Grayson take over. Having someone who doesn't listen to him but can defeat him whenever he wants must be unnerving. You are like a loose cannonball."
And basically a kingmaker of the Wolfsons before you even got to the city and grew your influence there.
Kieran knew all details known to the public about Isaiah's weird case. It was a common topic at the dinner table.
Isaiah sighed as if Kieran just said something impossibly stupid. "It's not that."
"He is a wolf, of course your power scares him. Just show him you are asking for a favor. That will motivate him."
Another swallow made his stomach clench, breath hitching. His lower belly was contracting too, as if one pain brought up the other. He also felt incredibly full, as if he just swallowed a watermelon.
Isaiah shook his head. "It's not that. I just...remind him too much of his brother. Grayson doesn't like that."
That made Kieran pause, raising an eyebrow. A headache pounded away in his head as he tried to think. "No shit. Sons take after their fathers, what else is new?"
Something about Isaiah's face was though. There was a feverish, overbright haze to his eyes, as if he was the one feeling sick at the thought. Moonlight glistened against his pale skin. He looked more like a ghost than a person.
"You don't like it either," Kieran realized.
Isaiah shrugged, but his fingers dug into the armrests so hard it squeaked.
What happened to you? What was so bad you had to leave?
Kieran would love to put more thoughts together. Each second with Isaiah revealed something new and especially this place seemed extra upsetting.
Except that was the moment his body chose to jerk forward with a retch.
Kieran's hand flew to his lips. Another spasm made him belch and then scramble forward for the trashcan.
He leaned over it just in time for a trickle of bile and some jelly-like pieces of food to shoot out with a splash. His body shivered in revulsion, breath quickening.
What felt like another burp turned into a moan at the end. Kieran clutched the trashcan, retching so hard he felt like something would tear in his stomach and come loose.
A hand came to rest on his shoulder. "Shhh, okay. Alright, stop, stop, stop. You are empty."
"D'snt feel like it," he mumbled, the words making him gag over and over again. His chest hurt.
"Kieran, take a breath. Come on."
Another retch that made his spine roll. He fell forward almost crashing into the bin, when two strong hands caught his shoulders and lifted him back up.
"Take a breath through your nose, Kieran." Isaiah eased the trash can away, kneeling on the floor beside him and tapped his cheek resolutely. "Take a deep breath for me."
All he managed at first was a throaty choking noise. The gagging fit wouldn't let up, his ribs on fire as if his chest contracted. The air was too thick to breathe.
"I don't feel good," Kieran said, dizzy from the gagging. Choking on his own bile was a pretty humiliating way to die. Tiny strain tears ran down his cheeks, mixing with the drool on his chin.
"Yeah, I know." Isaiah climbed up to sit beside him on the couch, holding him up by the forearms. "Damn it, you are burning up."
Isaiah's touch was grounding, stern but not too tight to hurt. Always controlled, always mindful.
And he couldn't even help him with the place and person that stressed him out. He hated that Isaiah had gone alone. The thought flashed hot—then the nausea blurred it.
"I-I'm sorry," Kieran gasped, trembling. "I'm sorry, I didn't meant to-" Didn't mean to get sick, to leave you to it, when you look so lost. "-sorry-"
The panic and the wave of emotions washing through him made it worse. He gagged, stomach screaming in protest as it contracted again. A soupy mouthful of stomach acid came up, splashing down his front.
"Kier, look at me. You're alright, everything is alright."
Revulsion and nausea clashed into each other. His stomach cramped, the pain vicious like a stab.
Isaiah patted his cheek again. "Hey, hey, listen to me. You have nothing to apologize for. Everything's alright. Shhhh."
"I totally ruined-"
"You got sick, you couldn't help it."
"-was my idea-"
"And it was the correct one."
"I can't even-"
Isaiah actually brushed away the tears from his cheek, smiling a bit hysterically. "Kieran. You did everything right. You care. I see how much you care and I'm grateful. But you are feverish and sick and too emotional to think straight. Trust me, okay? Everything's fine."
Kieran managed a nod and then a sob. His hands reeked of vomit, his shirt was soaked through, and he wasn't sure why he was crying. The dizzying wave of remorse eased up against Isaiah's steady voice, eyes bright and open and shining.
Everything after happened in a blur. Isaiah helped him out of the shirt and found a new one in his backpack. Cleaned up his face and hands with a wet towel like he was a toddler and then made him sip on an oversalty drink.
Put him to one of the beds, towering blankets over him at the shivers.
The scary Executioner stayed by his bed the whole night as if there was nothing more important to do.
Imagine your S/O has a stomach flu. They know you have the kink and they want to indulge you. The two of you go out to eat at a restaurant and they try to have as big of a meal as they can and when you get home S/O gets sick and it's just so much and they're so miserable - just absolutely ill and way too overfull
