Hi!! Idk if you'd rather all prompts were sent via survey now, so please ignore this if so. Your last fic made my heart ache for Taryn, she deserves some loving! Could you please write something where Taryn is the sick one and Benji is dotting on her? I know he's not the type, so maybe he starts brushing it off and then it turns bad enough that it scares him a little? It could be a migraine that turns awful or heat exaustion... Doesnt matter tbh! XX
ok so i actually wrote this the same night you sent it to me (tuesday i think) because i was so hype about it, but I've been so busy this week that this is the first time i've been able to sit down by myself with internet to post it!
This is incredibly soft Benji h/c and I hope I did our queen Taryn some justice!!
The one thing I don't like about this is how fast it turns from her being in misery to being fine, but in my research about migraines it sounds like that happens for a lot of people once they throw up??? idk it worked so i went with it.
CW: vomiting, migraines, accidentally neglectful SO
Word Count: 2855
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When Benji flipped the light on that morning to get ready for work, it hadn’t occurred to him how inconsiderate it was to his sleeping girlfriend.
When she groaned to roll over and glare at him, he had stared right back at her unflinchingly.
“Would you fucking turn that off?” She’d croaked hoarsely. She looked like a hot mess, but she always did when she first woke up. Benji found it cute.
He’d rolled his eyes at her dramatics but flipped the light off without verbalizing his irritation. Instead, he got dressed in the bathroom.
Taryn was always a bit grumpy in the mornings. Their exchange was nothing he wouldn’t expect from her at 7 in the morning; when he left for work, the memory slipped his mind within seconds.
--
Taryn tended to text Benji throughout the day with anything interesting she heard or saw. Even though she knew he wouldn’t respond, Benji always read them and on special occasions would even reply with a thumb’s up emoji. His silence wasn’t lack of interest and she knew that; her stories always brought a hint of a smile to his stoic face.
Her radio silence today was the first indication that something might be off. Benji wasn’t one to pester and quickly brushed off any hint of worry.
When he finally arrived home that evening, he was taken aback by how quiet the house was. Gunner was sat by himself on the couch watching 90 Day Fiancé, but the volume was turned way down. He craned his neck over the edge of the couch when Benji opened the door and threw up a hand in greeting.
“Hey, welcome back. You just missed the princess and her tantrum,” he said immediately. He was looking restless and irritated, as he so often did.
Benji slipped his shoes off and fetched himself a glass of water.
“Come again?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.
Gunner rolled his eyes and paused his show to turn and face him completely.
“Your girlfriend stormed down the stairs a few minutes ago screaming at Edith and I to turn the TV down because,” he raised his fingers in quotation marks, “her head was fucking killing her.”
Benji took a sip from his glass and plopped down on a barstool.
“She always gets moody when she has a headache, she’ll be fine,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. Even so, if Gunner wasn’t exaggerating, he was surprised to hear she’d been that verbal about her irritation.
Gunner turned back to his show. “Clearly,” he grumbled. “Anyways, Edith is with her now.”
Benji felt a twinge of guilt in his chest, maybe a hint of jealousy too. If Taryn really needed someone to dote on her, it was his job, not Edith’s. His longtime friend had experienced quite the shift in personality when she finally quit bartending and became an elementary school teacher last year. He knew how much effort she’d put in to get her degree and reach the point she was at now, but sometimes he missed her punk rock vibes and unapologetic personality. He knew it was unreasonable; Edith had always been a high-empathy ‘fixer’ type. She had a motherly, nurturing nature not unlike Taryn’s. It was just a lot more noticeable now that they were living together again, difference being her long-term sobriety this time around.
He nodded at Gunner and made his way up the stairs. The hallway lights were out, and their bedroom door was shut, but he could tell it was dark from within. When he opened the door, he was met by the sight of a lump on the bed and a shadowy figure sitting next to it. The curtains were drawn, and it was completely silent aside from the erratic, heavy breathing of his girlfriend curled up on the bed.
Edith looked up at him when he entered, and as his eyes adjusted to the light he saw relief wash over her face.
“She okay?” Benji asked with his voice at regular volume, his situational awareness flying out the window.
A high pitched whine sounded from underneath the covers and Edith shot him a deadly glare. The agitation came off of her in waves, like a mother bear protecting its’ cub. She quickly ushered him outside the room and closed the door behind them.
“No, she’s not okay,” she hissed, “and you need to lower your voice, you ass.”
It dawned on him how thoughtless he’d been, and he felt his cheeks turning red in embarrassment. “How was I supposed to know?” he whispered aggressively in his own defense.
Edith huffed at him and crossed her arms. “It doesn’t matter,” she snapped, “she has a horrible migraine, she's nauseous, and she's miserable. Be considerate.”
Benji didn’t appreciate the lecture. “Fuck off Edith, I know what I’m doing,” he grumbled. Somewhere in the very back of his mind, Benji knew that he should have thanked her for taking care of Taryn in his absence, but the urge to react after being called out for his actions was too tempting to resist.
He rudely stormed past her and re-entered the bedroom, closing the door in her face rather harshly.
It was louder than he thought because a wobbly sounding groan of pain came out of Taryn. He winced guiltily. He was really fucking this up.
He approached the bed slowly and sat down next to her. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and from the sound of it she was clearly dedicating a significant amount of energy to keeping her breathing as slow and steady as possible.
Her hair was in the same state of bedhead it had been in when he left that morning, and her unwashed face was pale and oily. She clearly hadn’t even been able to get out of bed to shower, and Benji was suddenly hit with a massive wave of guilt for how many times he’d brushed off the signs. This wasn’t Taryn’s first migraine, and he silently reprimanded himself for not having taken it seriously. He should have known better.
“Having a rough go of it today, huh?” He whispered quietly, wanting nothing more than for her to reply that it wasn’t that bad, that she would be fine, that he didn’t need to worry. He’d take anything over the pathetic whimper she gave instead.
“I want to die,” her voice was very quiet and sounded like she’d gargled glass from going mostly unused all day.
Benji swallowed, not knowing how to respond. He felt clammy and overwhelmed. He had the strangest feeling that if he so much as touched her, she would break into a million pieces.
His fear was only amplified by her reaction when he tried to lay a gentle hand on her waist. She flinched away harshly and exhaled sharply. Benji pulled his hand back like he’d been burned. Taryn was rarely so unwell that she couldn’t tell him what she needed him to do whenever he felt lost or out of his element. Conventional caretaking didn’t come naturally to him. He wanted more than anything to be effortlessly nurturing to her, but it just wasn’t who he was. Benji felt stiff and robotic when he tried to comfort her, as if all his reassurances were copy and pasted or pre-programmed into him.
He had his own way of showing he cared. It wasn’t with lovey-dovey, softly spoken comforts. It was with rough words of encouragement and firm, reassuring touches. Unapologetic forehead kisses and less than skilled back massages. That was why in times like these when Taryn needed silence and the slightest touch was agony, Benji had no idea what to do with himself.
“Unghh—B-Benji,”her voice was shaky and panicked, and she reached out to wrap her fingers tightly around his forearm. It was an act of desperation designed to focus on a sensation other than the figurative knife stabbing her skull over and over again.
“What?” He replied. His brows were furrowed deeply in worry, and he was frozen in place waiting for her to speak.
“I’m— ‘m gonna throw up—” Taryn’s voice became deep and distorted as her words were overtaken by an aborted heave.
Benji’s eyes widened. This was an unexpected turn—most definitely yet another event he should have anticipated a while ago.
“Fuck, uhhhh—fuck, uhm, it’s fine,” he said, forgetting to keep his voice quiet until halfway through his sentence. “Let’s get to the bathroom.”
He stood up and waited for her to follow suit, but all she did was groan miserably and clap a hand to her mouth with a painfully thick hiccup.
It occurred to Benji then that in her state, there was no way she could have stood up even if she wanted to. You fucking idiot, he berated himself. He wasted no more time in scooping her into his arms bridal style.
The way Taryn hung limply in his arms made him feel uneasy. She laid her head in the crook of his collar-bone.
Two steps into the journey, she spasmed in his arms and he heard a wet gurgle in her throat. He cursed and tried to move faster, but before he could reach the bathroom her cheeks ballooned out comically with vomit; it took less than a second for it to burst past the dam. It splattered all over his collarbone and chest, and another wave quickly followed suit. Some fell to the ground, but much of it continued to coat his shirt, bare upper arm, and Taryn’s front.
Benji couldn’t stop himself from loudly yelling a surprised Fuck! and it took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to drop her right then and there out of sheer reflex. His chest jolted with a gag of his own, but he stubbornly swallowed back his own nausea to focus on the task at hand.
Taryn managed to hold back the next round until he had safely set her down in front of the toilet, but she was so dizzy that the next wave splattered all over the toilet seat and floor. Benji cursed again and crouched behind her, but not before divesting himself of his soiled work shirt. He wrapped his arm around her from behind and planted one hand firmly in the center of her chest, steering her over the toilet bowl. He was horribly aware of the warm squish of vomit between his fingers as he supported the front of her body. With his other hand he held her head to keep her aimed over the bowl properly. His bare chest pressing into her back held her steady, and he tried hard not to think about how much this was probably hurting her right now.
It's necessary, he reminded himself. Even so, there was a part of him that worried he was just being a nuisance and horrible boyfriend.
A soft, wet belch bubbled up Taryn’s chest and he felt the rumble in her chest under his hand as vomit shot up her esophagus. It sprayed forcefully into the water below and she made a choked noise as it came out of her in a long, awful stream.
“‘Fucks sake, babe,” Benji murmured.
“Fuck,” she sobbed out the word and coughed up a bit of bile that trickled over her lip and streamed down her chin. Some of it dripped onto Benji’s forearm and he bit back the overwhelming urge to retch.
“I know,” he whispered. It was so soft that he wouldn’t have been surprised if Taryn didn’t hear him.
Interspersed with her loud gasps were sloppy hiccups and burps that sounded incredibly ominous. The disgusting noises made his skin crawl. When nothing came up though, Benji finally removed his hand from her head and grabbed a few squares of toilet paper. He wiped her lips and chin, shushing her as she struggled to breathe through the hiccups and tears.
“Jesus Taryn, fucking breathe,” he said. His voice rose an octave in what he refused to admit was panic. In that moment, Benji would have given up just about anything if it meant he never had to hear his girlfriend cry with such anguish ever again.
Several minutes and one more round of vomiting passed before she finally started to calm down. After she’d had a few minutes to breathe, Benji loosened his grip and helped her sit against the side of the tub while he washed his vomit covered hand. He wiped the drying puke off the toilet seat and threw a towel on top of the mess on the floor; he’d properly deal with it later.
She followed his movements with her eyes. Benji could see they were still hazy, but overall she seemed much more aware and in far less pain.
“How you doing over there, hot stuff?” He asked after a few more minutes passed, trying to lighten the mood.
A hint of a smile graced Taryn’s lips. Benji felt his heart skip a beat. It dawned on him that he hadn’t seen her smile once today; he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it.
“My head is so much better,” she sighed, “but I feel disgusting.”
Benji snorted with that signature raspy laugh of his.
“We’ve both seen better days,” he chuckled. “Think you can stand for a shower?”
Taryn nodded, but she looked so worn out that Benji couldn’t help but doubt her sincerity.
He hoisted her up to sit on the edge of the bath and carefully slipped her out of her soiled sweater. He balled it up and tossed it into the sink, grimacing at the foul smell. She wasn’t wearing any pants, so her bra and undies came off next. Benji turned on the shower and removed his own pants and boxers.
After he’d thoroughly rinsed both Taryn and himself down, Benji drew up a lukewarm bath and sat in the tub with his girlfriend as the water filled up. He was leaned against the wall of the bath, and Taryn had nestled her back comfortably in his chest.
It was so relaxing, sitting in content silence. Benji grabbed Taryn’s shampoo and squirted some into her hair. He began to slowly massage it into her scalp to slowly work out the tangles, and she let out a sigh of satisfaction.
“Keep doing that,” she breathed out, leaning forwards to give him more space.
Benji smiled softly at the way she melted into his touch. He pressed an affectionate kiss to the back of her neck, and she hummed quietly.
“I’m sorry,” she said eventually, “…you shouldn’t have had to see me like this.”
Benji rolled his eyes. “I don’t believe for a fucking second that you wanted to go through this alone.”
His voice was almost mocking in its delivery, but he meant it sincerely.
Taryn drew her knees closer to her chest. “Yeah, I guess. Still wish I hadn’t forced you to baby me like this though. And I’m really sorry I threw up on you—”
“Taryn.”
Benji’s voice was firm and serious now, designed to get her to listen. He leaned forwards to hook his chin over her shoulder and look at the side of her face.
“I know, I know, I just need to apolo-“
“Shut the hell up, you idiot,” Benji said. The words were abrasive and direct, but his voice was uncharacteristically gentle and there was no malice in his words. Only Benji could make such an insulting sentence sound so sickeningly sweet and affectionate. “Stop fucking apologizing. You couldn’t force me to do anything even if you wanted to. Understand?”
Taryn nodded slightly, like a kid being lectured by their teacher.
“I love you. That isn’t going to change just because you puked on me. Shit happens, babe.”
It wasn’t a particularly eloquent way of putting it, but it was the only way Benji knew how. Seeing his girlfriend so sick had him feeling a lot more sentimental and open than usual. “Listen,” he continued with a sigh, “I know I sound like I don’t care sometimes, but I promise I do. I really love you.”
Taryn leaned into him again with a long exhale and grinned. “How about you shut the hell up, ‘idiot’. I already know all that stuff. I love you too; I’m just a little embarrassed.”
Benji scoffed. “Well cut it out. We’ve had five years to get acquainted with the grossest parts of each other. Hell, at this point the smell of your farts is burned into my memory, and by the grace of God I somehow haven’t run away yet.”
Taryn’s entire face turned crimson at that, and she smacked his shoulder lightly. Her toddler-like pout had Benji curling over in a rare fit of boisterous laughter, feeling a little too pleased with himself for provoking such a reaction.
Once she finally stopped defiantly batting away his hand, Benji combed his fingers through Taryn’s freshly washed hair and kissed the crown of her head.
“C’mon cranky,” he laughed softly, “I think you’ve earned a nap.”