Sol | she/her | 27 | All hurt/comfort, bromance, sickfics, emeto | Shadow wolves story | Occasional anime and tv shows whump :D | Open to role-playing and OC crossovers | Open to DMs/online friends :) | Accepting sickfic requests for OCs!
Edmond sick from a concussion plus Adalyn careraker. Emeto included.
When Edmond came to, he was inside an unfamiliar place and his head was still pounding.
It took him a second to register that the wet cold thing on the side of his face was blood. The whole room smelled metallic from it.
He was sitting propped up against his new closet he hadn't had time to put together yet...why was he in a new place again?
Trying to move was a bad idea. Vertigo assaulted him so strongly he flipped right back on his ass, blinking rapidly.
The blow to the head might have been a concussion. Which would explain the confusion.
The place was still unfamiliar, but that was because it was new. Emond moved here just recently...for an important reason he couldn't remember.
The night was nothing new. He was out hunting demons, his favourite activity. Cleaning up the perimeter especially since it wasn't used to the presence of spirit hunters.
And because he wanted Adalyn's new place to be safe.
Ahhh. Right. Adalyn. His life has been wrapped around her since he was little.
Demons and Adalyn. What a fitting quote for his gravestone. There was not much else going on in his life.
Edmond Moonshade was the only hunter who knew about Adalyn's demon experiment. When she packed up to leave her family home and moved to the other side of town, he had not so discreetly followed after her.
Partly cause he was worried as heck and partly so her parents wouldn't have to be. Might have even earned him an appreciative nod from Adalyn's dad.
Except then he couldn't stop her from improsonig the king of demons and now he was basically cooperating in her crime by keeping it safe.
Well. Edmond would keep her safe. And when the demon king regained his senses and showed his true colours, Edmond would be the first one there; ready to kill it.
He could not by any means trust a demon without a proper binding contract. It wasn't like his own demon and the locked positions he was keeping it in.
If he wanted, he could call Noah right now and ask for his assistance. But the idea of letting the demon that close to him, when Edmond felt so weak and vulnerable was unthinkable.
He just needed to sleep and he would be fine.
Slowly, he tried to stand up again.
A nausous slime rocked up his throat. Pressure slammed into his stomach like a hit.
Edmond only had time to turn his head and retch on the floor as watery vomit sprayed all over the floor.
The smell and feeling made him heave again, the loud throaty noise echoing through the empty apartment.
Just his luck, to get injured the second month on duty, without access to help or assistance.
He breathed harshly through the nest spasms, black spots dancing in his vision. His left hand, with the invisible mark of the demon contract burned.
Noah obviously noticed something was wrong and was asking to appear...
No. No way he was going to let that snot-nose kid see him like this.
He wanted Arthur. Adalyn's younger brother with big brother attitude, efficient and strict and quiet. Always made it easier to ask for help when he didn’t make it feel like one.
His only other choise aside from the demon and Arthur was Adalyn. Adalyn and that little monster of hers, parading around her apartment, sleeping in her bed-
He vomited again, smaller and chunkier wave all over his front.
It wasn't a big deal. It wasn't like he was going to die from a little headache and stomach acid.
He was fine.
...
The next time he came to, Adalyn's blue-green eyes were so close he almost stopped breathing.
"Arms up, Ed. Come on, let's get you out of this shirt."
He obeyed, clumsily lifting his hands as she maneuvered him out of the soiled fabric.
Her silver-blond hair was pulled back in a loose bun, couple strands framing her face. Even frowning, her crystalline eyes the colour of sea glass and elf life features were the most stunning things he ever saw.
"W-what...?" He tried to speak, but his throat felt swollen and dry.
"You weren't picking up. I wanted to check if you had enough food. Lucian was making pizza."
Her proud tone made him grimace. Like she taught a hamster a cool trick. "I don't want any."
"Hardly, in your state," she said back, ignoring his biting tone. Or maybe he just looked too pathethic for it to work.
"Can you stand up?"
Edmond took a deep breath, but it didn't made the world twirl any less. "Dizzy."
"We can't have you crawling to bed now, can we?" she tugged at his arm. "Man up. Or should I call Lucian for help?"
That had him shooting up on instinct, gagging with disgust. He wouldn't let that deplorable sick thing touch him.
"There you go," Adalyn said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and steering him towards the modest bedroom. His apartment was right under hers.
By the sheer power of will not to take her down to the floor with him, he powered through the last steps and collapsed onto the bed with a heavy groan.
"You should get that concussion checked out- never mind, I know you won't go."
He grunted in response, glad she spared him a fight he wouldn't budge on.
"You should get proper covers and sheets for the bed. We have been here over a month and you are still not unpacked."
Edmond didn't have that many things to unpack. He wasn't a rich Castellan. Two shirts and long and short pants to move and train in where enough.
Closing his eyes in protest was all he managed to do.
The cold wetness on his face had his eyes shooting up, but it was only Adalyn wiping the blood of his face clean. "Shhhh. Go back to sleep. I got you a trashcan if you feel sick again."
She was so close. If his nose wasn't filled with the smell of vomit and sweat he could have enjoyed her lavender perfume. Adalyn in his bed. What a dream that was.
"You don't have to stay," he said sleepily, hoping for the opposite.
She scoffed somewhere over his ear. "Silly Edmond. Someone has to see if you wake up or not. We don't want a corpse rotting under my apartment."
He grinned and wanted to talk back, but only managed a yawn. Her presence made him feel safe as a knife under the pillow.
Edmond never made the mistake of underestimating Adalyn Castellan. Even if he did nothing else right by her, at least he never did that.
When Chris came to, there was a buzzing in his ears and his mouth tasted like something had crawled in it and died. His face hurt... His whole body did, all the way down to his toes.
He let out a groan, blinking to bring the room into focus, his memories starting to unfurl, mortification in their wake. He had hurled all over Bank's pants and then on himself, followed by fainting like a damsel... Yep, Chris decided, he'd need to get a new job and never show his face around this place again.
"Oh, you're awake," Dawson's voice cut through the haze. Chris had only had one migraine his whole life, but it had been eerily similar to how he felt now. The room was too bright, Dawson's voice too loud and Marshall's perfume too nauseating. Even without looking around he knew she had to be in the room, no one else reeked of Daisy by Marc Jacobs like that.
"Chris?" Claire asked, stepping closer. She looked so tired, that she might as well lie down on a cot next to his and they would mistake her for a patient. He felt a pang of guilt. How long had he been out for? Had Claire been awake for thirty six hours now?
"Uhm-" He tried to push himself up, only then realizing there was an IV sticking out of his hand. What the hell? He glared at it, puzzled, and his boss volunteered an answer.
"You were too dehydrated for us to get a better vein."
Great, just fucking great.
"I want to apologize, we shouldn't have had you on the clock while so sick," Lois went on, while Claire paced nervously behind her, chewing on her lip, "please take the rest of the week off... And Dr. Banks will be properly reprimanded for his behavior... And he will be apologizing for it, he's extremely sorry."
Uh-huh.
Chris rolled his eyes, finally managing to push himself into a more or less sitting position. He wasn't in the ER like he had previously thought, they had given him a room. Fancy, but extremely unnecessary for just dehydration. He wanted to piss and to go home, maybe eat something- Nope. His stomach soured at the thought of food. He gulped down.
"Can I go?"
Chris had no plans to stick around so Jonah could come apologize for being the massive asshole that he was or so Marshall came closer with that disgusting perfume of hers. Truly, who thought bathing in vanilla before going to work at a hospital was a good idea?
"Uhm," Lois sighed, "we'll need to clear it with Dr. Chen, she'll be up in a minute to check on you... You really gave us quite a fright, Chris."
Claire scoffed, "you scared the shit out of me. Did you know you were burning up? Like teeth chattering burning up?" She squinted at him and he cringed in embarrassment. He liked Claire, she was a bit of a doormat and he had no idea about her private life at all, because she was extremely private, but she was sweet. Folded too easily whenever Banks was around, but sweet.
"Chris?"
Oh, she expected an answer?
"I didn't," he mumbled, glaring at the IV needle sticking out of his hand, "just felt like crap."
"Well, next time maybe let us-"
"Dr. Peters," Lois interrupted, probably remembering that he had in fact let them know and then she had forced him to come to work anyway, "let's let Dr. Lavin rest. You also need rest, you've been awake for too long."
"I'm fine," Claire grumbled, rubbing her exhausted face. Chris threw her an amused look and she only glared back, "okay, I'm gonna go. My ride is here. Feel better Chris."
Oh? Her ride? Was Claire dating?
Another thing that Chris was, besides a self admitted asshole, was a snoop. He loved collecting information on people, like Marshall falling apart since her breakup — he really wanted to know how that had gone down. By how devastated she was, he assumed Tim had cheated on her — and Henderson's third kid arriving that summer — third kid! In this economy?! — and whatever the reason Banks had stretched his honeymoon for two weeks longer than he should have and everyone had acted as if it was perfectly fine to cover for him as he travelled Bali, acting as if Chris was insane for pointing out that he didn't want to cover for the guy. Not knowing that had been driving him crazy.
"Thanks, Claire," he said, cringing when his voice was raspy and his throat ached. His stomach churned uncomfortably and he looked around the room, pointedly ignoring his boss. He wasn't sure why she wasn't gone too.
The door opened and closed, Lois let out a sigh, "Chris," serious voice. He forced their eyes to meet, she looked concerned, but collected, "I trust you understand it was all a big... Misunderstanding and that you aren't going to proceed with an audit or anything of the sorts?"
Of course, Jonah wasn't held liable, being a jerk wasn't a crime, but forcing a sick doctor to work to the point of collapsing might be. She was worried about the hospital, which put him at ease. Much better than her being concerned about him.
"No, I won't pursue any audit or anything of the sorts," he promised, "thanks for the PTO week, though."
She smiled, relieved and amused he had understood the reason he had been given such extensive time to recover. Business were so much easier than people, messy, complicated people.
"I'm going to let you rest," Lois squeezed his knee over the thin sheet thrown over him, "Dr. Chen will be upstairs in a moment to clear you."
June Chen was a more senior doctor and he had very little contact with her. She was extremely put together and hung out with Stewarts and Dawson, sometimes they took pity on Henderson and let him join the clique, or so it seemed for Chris. Either way, Chen had a no nonsense approach that he liked and she only scoffed at his chart, signing it with a huff.
"Don't drive home," she said, writing his release permit, "you're on Zofran right now, but the effects should fade in an hour. If you're back to being sick and can't keep down liquid, come back to the hospital. I want you to monitor that fever as well, it was scarily high. Right now it broke, but if it goes up again- You live alone, don't you?" She interrupted herself, frowning and Chris, who had already thrown his legs over the edge of the bed and was removing his own IV, just nodded.
She let out a displeased noise, "get someone to stay with you at least for the morning, you're too weak to handle it if your fever climbs again."
"Okay," he nodded, not planning on obeying. Chen squinted at him, then rolled her eyes.
"Okay," she put down the pen, "any questions?"
"Nope."
"Alright," she nodded and turned around, "hope I don't see you again, feel better."
Perfectly content with being left alone, Chris finished getting dressed and hunted down his phone. His battery was running low.
He hoovered over Emerald's contact, considering letting her know, then decided against it. He felt fine, nauseous and shaky, but nothing he couldn't handle.
In an effort to not be the worst patient of all time, he did call a cab instead of driving himself.
That was how he ran into Banks, as he waited outside the hospital, hands in his pockets, fending off the vertigo.
Jonah was driving back home, Chris recognized the red sedan, scoffed quietly. Then it pulled to a stop in front of him, window rolled down, "Lavin."
"Banks," he rubbed his hands to warm them up, checked the ETA of his cab. Ten more minutes. How the hell, Welton was not that large!
"Are you waiting for your ride or did you get a cab?" Jonah asked and Chris just stared at him.
"Dawson said you wanted to apologize."
"Cab or a ride?"
"Is this the part where you say I'm sorry Chris that I was a horrible doctor and horrible human being all around, please don't go to HR, I didn't know you were sick despite the fact you repeatedly told me, I don't know how to interact-"
"I'm sorry," Banks said, not sounding like he meant it, "let me give you a ride. Least I can do."
"Least you could do is leave me alone," Chris shrugged, gulping down as his stomach complained him standing up for so long. He really, really wanted his own bed. More Zofran, probably. Ginger ale so he'd stop burping acid.
"Let me give you a ride," Banks insisted and Chris opened his mouth to tell him to go die in a ditch, but then his phone buzzed. He let out a sigh of relief that the car was close only to glance at the screen and realize the driver had cancelled his trip.
Fucking hell.
"So?" Banks asked, and Chris' shoulders dropped, defeated.
"Fine. If you shut up the whole drive."
Jonah did stay quiet for the biggest chunk of it. He kept his eyes on the street and drove carefully, which Chris was glad for, because his stomach was growing more and more uneasy.
He muffled a burp in his hand, staring at the horizon intently. The car was freezing, so he reached for the heater, taking a second to understand Jonah's dashboard. Banks didn't mention him turning it on, didn't even glance at him. Good.
His car was extremely clean, Chris noticed. Nothing like some of the mess that was in the backseat of his own vehicle, empty water bottles and papers he needed to mail his accountant. Nope, all pristine and smelling like pine.
He fidgeted on his seat, tugging on the seatbelt that was squeezing his tender middle. Opened the glovebox. Mints, a brand new roll of toilet paper, neatly folded plastic bags, six different bottles of pills??
"What the fuck," Chris whispered, shocked by the medication. It could be Jonah's but he hadn't ever seen Banks taking pills...
"They're my husband's," Jonah slammed the glovebox shut, "and you're being rude."
"Not half as much as yelling at the clearly sick guy, now am I?" Chris scoffed and Banks' eyebrows connected, lips turning down at the corners.
"You didn't look that sick, you're always pale and look like a vampire," he mumbled, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and glancing at the GPS, "and I'm sorry. I was out of line."
Chris pursed his lips, annoyed at the apology, "yes, you were," he said strongly, "you're not my boss, Banks. Even if you were, which you aren't, it would've been fucking detrimental to treat a person like that. I know you think you're untouchable because your dad is famous but-"
Jonah interrupted him with a genuine snort, pressing his lips not to laugh, "you think I'm arrogant because of my father? Really, coming from you, Lavin?"
Chris clenched his jaw. Most people didn't tie his surname to LVA Medical, the company that supplied their equipment in the hospital and to at least a thousand others across the country, but Banks had done his homework.
"I never once brought-"
"Oh, and I have? Projecting much?" Jonah's voice dripped with sarcasm, "hate me all you want, but don't pretend our differences is a class issue or me acting entitled because of my father whom I never even mentioned. You don't know shit about me."
"And you don't know shit about me, but that doesn't stop you from making all sorts of assumptions, does it?" His stomach flipped and the singular glass of water he had had on his way out of the hospital rocketed up his throat. Chris gulped down, fighting the clammy nausea that was spreading all over him, "fuck this, pull over."
"Don't be a fucking baby, we're five minutes away from your address," Banks rolled his eyes.
Chris swallowed the thick saliva accumulating in his mouth, shuddering at the bitter taste, "And I can walk those five minutes. Stop the car."
"So you can tell Dawson I abandoned you on the side of the road while sick? I already got three days of suspension, no thanks."
He had gotten three days of suspension? What a shitty punishment if Chris was not even gonna be there that week. He swallowed again, the knot in his throat increasing, making it harder to push down the liquid "Jonah, pull over."
It kept moving.
Chris shuddered, convulsing with an empty heave and bracing against the dashboard, "M'serious-"
"Don't throw up in my car," Jonah groaned, just as the vehicle stopped. Chris should have moved, but he suddenly couldn't, too weak to even undo his seatbelt. This whole drive had been a horrible idea...
He reached again, just as Banks grabbed his shoulder and leaned over him, shoving the passenger door open and Chris hanging out of it.
Bright yellow splattered on the asphalt, followed by another heave and a stream of clear liquid. He groaned, weak fingers trying to undo the seatbelt cutting him in half.
"Your fever is up again," the other doctor let him know, as if Chris couldn't have guessed from the violent shivers wrecking him. Suddenly the seatbelt was gone and he nearly fell out of the vehicle, letting out a cry when it eased some of the pain.
"Chris?"
He spat, took a deep breath through his nose... Then pushed himself up, out of the car.
Jonah was out too by the time Chris circled it, leaning on the red metal and frowning, "you shouldn't be alone, call someone to look after you. Do you have friends? A girlfriend? A boyfriend?"
"Mind your own business," Chris stumbled, bracing against the railing of the access ramp in order not to fall, "thanks for the amazing ride."
Jonah scoffed, nostrils flaring with annoyance, "go ahead. Go in."
"You're- you're gonna watch?" He slurred, gagging again and spitting a measly mouthful of water on the pavement.
"Yes," Banks shoved his hands on his pockets, seeming like he had all day to watch Chris stumble like a drunk, "gotta say I safely delivered you."
"That's a stretch," Chris mumbled, then stumbled further in, glaring over his shoulder, "if you're still out there by the time I get to my floor, I'm calling the police."
"Go fuck yourself, Lavin," his coworker flipped him off, apparently giving up his good Samaritan bullshit and getting back into his car, just as Chris crossed the doors of his building.
Noah overeats on tiramisu and strawberries. Graphic nausea and emeto.
Noah was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to be here.
Not just in Edmond's apartment, but currently occupying his bathroom while his stomach rebelled in a way he had never experienced before.
To be fair, his contracted human—hunter—had been injured and then they had a visitor and then Noah just accidently ended up chatting with the girl.
Obviously a significant girl, cause Adalyn could sense his presence from Edmond's bond without Noah needing to appear.
It felt very satisfying to be called by the new name. Names came with contracts, always specific to the spirit hunter and created an entirely new identity for the demon in question.
Noah hadn't had yet many opportunities to experience this new him.
And then Adalyn came again, to check on Edmond and said they were experiment with strawberry tiramisu and left some for him on the counter.
Strawberry tiramisu. What an amazing invention.
Demons didn't need to eat, but it sure as hell tasted good. Made Noah feel so much more real, to touch, smell and taste things...to eat them.
When he ate the first serving and Edmond slept the entire day and Adalyn barely made him eat crackers, Noah decided the tiramisu would go to waste without him.
So he rescued the portion left in the fridge. Entirely innocently and with good intentions.
Adalyn must have noticed, cause she gave him a satisfied smirk "that good?"...and brought him another.
With a huge bowl of fresh strawberries, cause apparently they bought too much and ran out of boxes to do them in.
Noah wasn't hungry. He was just bored and lonely and pretty sure once Edmond woke, he would make him disappear and never get access to strawberries again.
So he ate the box of tiramisu. With renewed urgency, since Edmond went to the bathroom by himself and generally showed more signs of life. Still collapsed back in bed, complaining about being dizzy, but he slept easier and gagged a lot less and his balanced was much better...
And Noah just wanted to enjoy the strawberries, was that so wrong?
He basically inhaled the huge box of tiramisu that had at least 6 servings in it...then hid himself on the balcony and snacked on the strawberries with cream and sugar.
It was delicious. An onslaught of sweetness and greatness, his fingers red from the juice.
Noah wasn't a demon of greed, but damn was this good.
For a good hour afterwards he just sat in the chair he stole from the kitchen, enjoying the breeze at the balcony and the pleasant fullness. Feeling seated had something in it, like he was complete and physical and present in the sunlight and the world in the best way possible.
Noah only noticed later, when he tried to straighten up, how huge his stomach got. It was bloated to the point it was pushing against his ribs. A weight settled on his chest, making it hard to breathe.
The sight made him self-conscious, so he got up to hide the evidence. His belly felt heavy, rolling with the movement and making him stumble.
Liquidy sugar swirl of strawberries gurgled loudly, so he hurried up inside in case someone would hear.
Getting the empty plasitc box into the trashcan was all he managed. Feeling impossibly tired, he crashed on the couch, mesmerised by the sheer size of his middle.
He had neevr experienced such bloating. His skin was tout and his stonach didn't feel like his own. Like a balloon someone filled inside him, it stretched as its own entity inside his body.
It was interesting for about 15 minutes. Then it got more gurgly and he felt so stuffed it was hard to catch his breath. The pressure built up he thought he was going to pop...and came out as a burp.
Huh. That actually helped. He massaged his tummy, first gently and then with more urgency, to get the feeling out.
A string of burps came up, relieving some of the air. For a couple of minutes, Noah felt content again. Close to sleep. This wasn't so bad.
Then the cramps started.
Pain right from the naval, coming in short waves, down below. The waves got longer the more he sat there.
He tried to burp again, but the air smelled sweet and sticky and made his throat feel all slimy.
His belly jumped up scarily, some of the slimy strawberry jam sliding up his throat.
Noah barely managed to gulp, sending the offending wave down. It tasted worse than before, all bitter and revolting and he shook with disgust.
Another burp made him jump, sweat and goosebumps covering hin head to toe.
Damn it, what did he do? Was it really so much?
His stomach didn't seem any smaller. If anything the fullness seemed to spred, his upper stonach filled with air while his lower belly filled with what felt like streams of water.
The room felt too hot and his shirt too tight. He couldn't breathe, a claustrophobic feeling overwhelming him. Like his own body was suffocating him.
And it hurt. The cramps got longer and more intense, making his whole middle spasm. A pain like being hit in the stomach, but repeatedly and from the inside.
He had seen that before, even felt it, but never from food. So Noah did the only reasonable thing — headed for the bathroom.
The small and cold space where he could safely lock himself in comforted him. His belly was making all sorts of upset, blabbering noises. His face felt hot, like he was turning to steam.
He curled up by the toilet, his belly not letting him straighten his back or sit against the wall.
Now he only dared to burp towards the toilet, afraid the slime would surge up into the world again.
But he couldn't exactly stop the air either. When he tried, his body hiccuped against his control, making the cramps worse.
It squeezed him so tight his eyes watered.
A different feeling hit him then. Everything stilled for a moment, as if it had been decided. Like something inevitable.
Then his belly spammed and cramped so hard he arched underneath it, moaning from the pain as thick, red mush shot out from his throat.
It coated the inside of the toilet, and Noah didn't even get a chance to breathe before the next wave came.
His stomach was squeezing and squeezing, death set to evaluate all its contents. Noah heaved once more, vomiting the third time, bits cream and white adding to the red mess.
He hit the flush bottom, not able to look at that disgusting sight. The cramps eased a little, but still there, pushing into the other direction now.
He belched emptily against the water, head buried so deep inside the toilet from fear of another wave. Nothing came up, just sticky red saliva.
Revulsion felt like a snake, sliding along his teeth and inside his throat. He gagged repeatedly over the toilet at the sensation, his stomach rolling and bubbling inside him.
He was exhausted and breathless and his upper stomach hurt from the strain. His throat burned. The fullness feeling felt sickly and too heavy and he just wanted it to stop.
The pressure and pain moved entirely down to his lower belly. It felt tight and painful, like he couldn't move an inch, locked in that position. Like a brick that stopped inside him, too big to move forward.
Noah groaned, bracing against the toilet for support, when he suddenly understood which was his belly wanted to push.
...
"You poisoned my demon?" Edmond said, eyes wide and way too amused.
Adalyn rolled her eyes. "I brought him a cake and strawberries. He overeate on them all on his own."
"Who knows, maybe your demon meant to poison you and ended up hurting mine-"
"Shut up." Adalyn punched Edmond on the arm. They were in his bed, where Edmond managed to sit upright without falling or feeling like he was going to hurt.
His head was still off, as if someone was holding it in vice metal grip, but he felt a bit stronger and more aware.
Adalyn sat beside him, nonchalant, as if their proximity did nothing to her insides.
Apparently, it did not.
"Did you talk to him?" she asked curiously.
"No. Didn't even know he was here." Edmond threw her a nasty look. "Stop encouraging him to appear, wohld you?"
"I'm just saying you should work on your partnership bond." Her eyes narrowed. "He could have helped you with the injury, if you let him."
"He would have. Doesn't mean I would be okay with it."
"Then start getting to it, cause this is stupid. And inefficient, in your world."
He glared at her and she giggled, not a bit terrified by his most scary, viscious expression.
If anything, she was more excited for getting to him.
He sighed tiredly. "When is the bathroom gonna be free? I need a shower."
"Not anytime soon. Noah has been in there for the last hour and from the sounds, I wouldn't say he is finished."
"Why would you listen to-"
"Just the groans and moans," Adalyn waved her hand. "I asked him if he wanted anything, but he just whined and put the faucet on. What a cutie."
Edmond shook his head at the ridiculous word. "He is a demon. More stupid than anything else."
"My dessert was perfect then," she smiled victoriously, "if it made him so greedy. Shame on you for not trying it out."
Noah overeats on tiramisu and strawberries. Graphic nausea and emeto.
Noah was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to be here.
Not just in Edmond's apartment, but currently occupying his bathroom while his stomach rebelled in a way he had never experienced before.
To be fair, his contracted human—hunter—had been injured and then they had a visitor and then Noah just accidently ended up chatting with the girl.
Obviously a significant girl, cause Adalyn could sense his presence from Edmond's bond without Noah needing to appear.
It felt very satisfying to be called by the new name. Names came with contracts, always specific to the spirit hunter and created an entirely new identity for the demon in question.
Noah hadn't had yet many opportunities to experience this new him.
And then Adalyn came again, to check on Edmond and said they were experiment with strawberry tiramisu and left some for him on the counter.
Strawberry tiramisu. What an amazing invention.
Demons didn't need to eat, but it sure as hell tasted good. Made Noah feel so much more real, to touch, smell and taste things...to eat them.
When he ate the first serving and Edmond slept the entire day and Adalyn barely made him eat crackers, Noah decided the tiramisu would go to waste without him.
So he rescued the portion left in the fridge. Entirely innocently and with good intentions.
Adalyn must have noticed, cause she gave him a satisfied smirk "that good?"...and brought him another.
With a huge bowl of fresh strawberries, cause apparently they bought too much and ran out of boxes to do them in.
Noah wasn't hungry. He was just bored and lonely and pretty sure once Edmond woke, he would make him disappear and never get access to strawberries again.
So he ate the box of tiramisu. With renewed urgency, since Edmond went to the bathroom by himself and generally showed more signs of life. Still collapsed back in bed, complaining about being dizzy, but he slept easier and gagged a lot less and his balanced was much better...
And Noah just wanted to enjoy the strawberries, was that so wrong?
He basically inhaled the huge box of tiramisu that had at least 6 servings in it...then hid himself on the balcony and snacked on the strawberries with cream and sugar.
It was delicious. An onslaught of sweetness and greatness, his fingers red from the juice.
Noah wasn't a demon of greed, but damn was this good.
For a good hour afterwards he just sat in the chair he stole from the kitchen, enjoying the breeze at the balcony and the pleasant fullness. Feeling seated had something in it, like he was complete and physical and present in the sunlight and the world in the best way possible.
Noah only noticed later, when he tried to straighten up, how huge his stomach got. It was bloated to the point it was pushing against his ribs. A weight settled on his chest, making it hard to breathe.
The sight made him self-conscious, so he got up to hide the evidence. His belly felt heavy, rolling with the movement and making him stumble.
Liquidy sugar swirl of strawberries gurgled loudly, so he hurried up inside in case someone would hear.
Getting the empty plasitc box into the trashcan was all he managed. Feeling impossibly tired, he crashed on the couch, mesmerised by the sheer size of his middle.
He had neevr experienced such bloating. His skin was tout and his stonach didn't feel like his own. Like a balloon someone filled inside him, it stretched as its own entity inside his body.
It was interesting for about 15 minutes. Then it got more gurgly and he felt so stuffed it was hard to catch his breath. The pressure built up he thought he was going to pop...and came out as a burp.
Huh. That actually helped. He massaged his tummy, first gently and then with more urgency, to get the feeling out.
A string of burps came up, relieving some of the air. For a couple of minutes, Noah felt content again. Close to sleep. This wasn't so bad.
Then the cramps started.
Pain right from the naval, coming in short waves, down below. The waves got longer the more he sat there.
He tried to burp again, but the air smelled sweet and sticky and made his throat feel all slimy.
His belly jumped up scarily, some of the slimy strawberry jam sliding up his throat.
Noah barely managed to gulp, sending the offending wave down. It tasted worse than before, all bitter and revolting and he shook with disgust.
Another burp made him jump, sweat and goosebumps covering hin head to toe.
Damn it, what did he do? Was it really so much?
His stomach didn't seem any smaller. If anything the fullness seemed to spred, his upper stonach filled with air while his lower belly filled with what felt like streams of water.
The room felt too hot and his shirt too tight. He couldn't breathe, a claustrophobic feeling overwhelming him. Like his own body was suffocating him.
And it hurt. The cramps got longer and more intense, making his whole middle spasm. A pain like being hit in the stomach, but repeatedly and from the inside.
He had seen that before, even felt it, but never from food. So Noah did the only reasonable thing — headed for the bathroom.
The small and cold space where he could safely lock himself in comforted him. His belly was making all sorts of upset, blabbering noises. His face felt hot, like he was turning to steam.
He curled up by the toilet, his belly not letting him straighten his back or sit against the wall.
Now he only dared to burp towards the toilet, afraid the slime would surge up into the world again.
But he couldn't exactly stop the air either. When he tried, his body hiccuped against his control, making the cramps worse.
It squeezed him so tight his eyes watered.
A different feeling hit him then. Everything stilled for a moment, as if it had been decided. Like something inevitable.
Then his belly spammed and cramped so hard he arched underneath it, moaning from the pain as thick, red mush shot out from his throat.
It coated the inside of the toilet, and Noah didn't even get a chance to breathe before the next wave came.
His stomach was squeezing and squeezing, death set to evaluate all its contents. Noah heaved once more, vomiting the third time, bits cream and white adding to the red mess.
He hit the flush bottom, not able to look at that disgusting sight. The cramps eased a little, but still there, pushing into the other direction now.
He belched emptily against the water, head buried so deep inside the toilet from fear of another wave. Nothing came up, just sticky red saliva.
Revulsion felt like a snake, sliding along his teeth and inside his throat. He gagged repeatedly over the toilet at the sensation, his stomach rolling and bubbling inside him.
He was exhausted and breathless and his upper stomach hurt from the strain. His throat burned. The fullness feeling felt sickly and too heavy and he just wanted it to stop.
The pressure and pain moved entirely down to his lower belly. It felt tight and painful, like he couldn't move an inch, locked in that position. Like a brick that stopped inside him, too big to move forward.
Noah groaned, bracing against the toilet for support, when he suddenly understood which was his belly wanted to push.
...
"You poisoned my demon?" Edmond said, eyes wide and way too amused.
Adalyn rolled her eyes. "I brought him a cake and strawberries. He overeate on them all on his own."
"Who knows, maybe your demon meant to poison you and ended up hurting mine-"
"Shut up." Adalyn punched Edmond on the arm. They were in his bed, where Edmond managed to sit upright without falling or feeling like he was going to hurt.
His head was still off, as if someone was holding it in vice metal grip, but he felt a bit stronger and more aware.
Adalyn sat beside him, nonchalant, as if their proximity did nothing to her insides.
Apparently, it did not.
"Did you talk to him?" she asked curiously.
"No. Didn't even know he was here." Edmond threw her a nasty look. "Stop encouraging him to appear, wohld you?"
"I'm just saying you should work on your partnership bond." Her eyes narrowed. "He could have helped you with the injury, if you let him."
"He would have. Doesn't mean I would be okay with it."
"Then start getting to it, cause this is stupid. And inefficient, in your world."
He glared at her and she giggled, not a bit terrified by his most scary, viscious expression.
If anything, she was more excited for getting to him.
He sighed tiredly. "When is the bathroom gonna be free? I need a shower."
"Not anytime soon. Noah has been in there for the last hour and from the sounds, I wouldn't say he is finished."
"Why would you listen to-"
"Just the groans and moans," Adalyn waved her hand. "I asked him if he wanted anything, but he just whined and put the faucet on. What a cutie."
Edmond shook his head at the ridiculous word. "He is a demon. More stupid than anything else."
"My dessert was perfect then," she smiled victoriously, "if it made him so greedy. Shame on you for not trying it out."
Edmond sick from a concussion plus Adalyn careraker. Emeto included.
When Edmond came to, he was inside an unfamiliar place and his head was still pounding.
It took him a second to register that the wet cold thing on the side of his face was blood. The whole room smelled metallic from it.
He was sitting propped up against his new closet he hadn't had time to put together yet...why was he in a new place again?
Trying to move was a bad idea. Vertigo assaulted him so strongly he flipped right back on his ass, blinking rapidly.
The blow to the head might have been a concussion. Which would explain the confusion.
The place was still unfamiliar, but that was because it was new. Emond moved here just recently...for an important reason he couldn't remember.
The night was nothing new. He was out hunting demons, his favourite activity. Cleaning up the perimeter especially since it wasn't used to the presence of spirit hunters.
And because he wanted Adalyn's new place to be safe.
Ahhh. Right. Adalyn. His life has been wrapped around her since he was little.
Demons and Adalyn. What a fitting quote for his gravestone. There was not much else going on in his life.
Edmond Moonshade was the only hunter who knew about Adalyn's demon experiment. When she packed up to leave her family home and moved to the other side of town, he had not so discreetly followed after her.
Partly cause he was worried as heck and partly so her parents wouldn't have to be. Might have even earned him an appreciative nod from Adalyn's dad.
Except then he couldn't stop her from improsonig the king of demons and now he was basically cooperating in her crime by keeping it safe.
Well. Edmond would keep her safe. And when the demon king regained his senses and showed his true colours, Edmond would be the first one there; ready to kill it.
He could not by any means trust a demon without a proper binding contract. It wasn't like his own demon and the locked positions he was keeping it in.
If he wanted, he could call Noah right now and ask for his assistance. But the idea of letting the demon that close to him, when Edmond felt so weak and vulnerable was unthinkable.
He just needed to sleep and he would be fine.
Slowly, he tried to stand up again.
A nausous slime rocked up his throat. Pressure slammed into his stomach like a hit.
Edmond only had time to turn his head and retch on the floor as watery vomit sprayed all over the floor.
The smell and feeling made him heave again, the loud throaty noise echoing through the empty apartment.
Just his luck, to get injured the second month on duty, without access to help or assistance.
He breathed harshly through the nest spasms, black spots dancing in his vision. His left hand, with the invisible mark of the demon contract burned.
Noah obviously noticed something was wrong and was asking to appear...
No. No way he was going to let that snot-nose kid see him like this.
He wanted Arthur. Adalyn's younger brother with big brother attitude, efficient and strict and quiet. Always made it easier to ask for help when he didn’t make it feel like one.
His only other choise aside from the demon and Arthur was Adalyn. Adalyn and that little monster of hers, parading around her apartment, sleeping in her bed-
He vomited again, smaller and chunkier wave all over his front.
It wasn't a big deal. It wasn't like he was going to die from a little headache and stomach acid.
He was fine.
...
The next time he came to, Adalyn's blue-green eyes were so close he almost stopped breathing.
"Arms up, Ed. Come on, let's get you out of this shirt."
He obeyed, clumsily lifting his hands as she maneuvered him out of the soiled fabric.
Her silver-blond hair was pulled back in a loose bun, couple strands framing her face. Even frowning, her crystalline eyes the colour of sea glass and elf life features were the most stunning things he ever saw.
"W-what...?" He tried to speak, but his throat felt swollen and dry.
"You weren't picking up. I wanted to check if you had enough food. Lucian was making pizza."
Her proud tone made him grimace. Like she taught a hamster a cool trick. "I don't want any."
"Hardly, in your state," she said back, ignoring his biting tone. Or maybe he just looked too pathethic for it to work.
"Can you stand up?"
Edmond took a deep breath, but it didn't made the world twirl any less. "Dizzy."
"We can't have you crawling to bed now, can we?" she tugged at his arm. "Man up. Or should I call Lucian for help?"
That had him shooting up on instinct, gagging with disgust. He wouldn't let that deplorable sick thing touch him.
"There you go," Adalyn said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and steering him towards the modest bedroom. His apartment was right under hers.
By the sheer power of will not to take her down to the floor with him, he powered through the last steps and collapsed onto the bed with a heavy groan.
"You should get that concussion checked out- never mind, I know you won't go."
He grunted in response, glad she spared him a fight he wouldn't budge on.
"You should get proper covers and sheets for the bed. We have been here over a month and you are still not unpacked."
Edmond didn't have that many things to unpack. He wasn't a rich Castellan. Two shirts and long and short pants to move and train in where enough.
Closing his eyes in protest was all he managed to do.
The cold wetness on his face had his eyes shooting up, but it was only Adalyn wiping the blood of his face clean. "Shhhh. Go back to sleep. I got you a trashcan if you feel sick again."
She was so close. If his nose wasn't filled with the smell of vomit and sweat he could have enjoyed her lavender perfume. Adalyn in his bed. What a dream that was.
"You don't have to stay," he said sleepily, hoping for the opposite.
She scoffed somewhere over his ear. "Silly Edmond. Someone has to see if you wake up or not. We don't want a corpse rotting under my apartment."
He grinned and wanted to talk back, but only managed a yawn. Her presence made him feel safe as a knife under the pillow.
Edmond never made the mistake of underestimating Adalyn Castellan. Even if he did nothing else right by her, at least he never did that.
Edmond sick from a concussion plus Adalyn careraker. Emeto included.
When Edmond came to, he was inside an unfamiliar place and his head was still pounding.
It took him a second to register that the wet cold thing on the side of his face was blood. The whole room smelled metallic from it.
He was sitting propped up against his new closet he hadn't had time to put together yet...why was he in a new place again?
Trying to move was a bad idea. Vertigo assaulted him so strongly he flipped right back on his ass, blinking rapidly.
The blow to the head might have been a concussion. Which would explain the confusion.
The place was still unfamiliar, but that was because it was new. Emond moved here just recently...for an important reason he couldn't remember.
The night was nothing new. He was out hunting demons, his favourite activity. Cleaning up the perimeter especially since it wasn't used to the presence of spirit hunters.
And because he wanted Adalyn's new place to be safe.
Ahhh. Right. Adalyn. His life has been wrapped around her since he was little.
Demons and Adalyn. What a fitting quote for his gravestone. There was not much else going on in his life.
Edmond Moonshade was the only hunter who knew about Adalyn's demon experiment. When she packed up to leave her family home and moved to the other side of town, he had not so discreetly followed after her.
Partly cause he was worried as heck and partly so her parents wouldn't have to be. Might have even earned him an appreciative nod from Adalyn's dad.
Except then he couldn't stop her from improsonig the king of demons and now he was basically cooperating in her crime by keeping it safe.
Well. Edmond would keep her safe. And when the demon king regained his senses and showed his true colours, Edmond would be the first one there; ready to kill it.
He could not by any means trust a demon without a proper binding contract. It wasn't like his own demon and the locked positions he was keeping it in.
If he wanted, he could call Noah right now and ask for his assistance. But the idea of letting the demon that close to him, when Edmond felt so weak and vulnerable was unthinkable.
He just needed to sleep and he would be fine.
Slowly, he tried to stand up again.
A nausous slime rocked up his throat. Pressure slammed into his stomach like a hit.
Edmond only had time to turn his head and retch on the floor as watery vomit sprayed all over the floor.
The smell and feeling made him heave again, the loud throaty noise echoing through the empty apartment.
Just his luck, to get injured the second month on duty, without access to help or assistance.
He breathed harshly through the nest spasms, black spots dancing in his vision. His left hand, with the invisible mark of the demon contract burned.
Noah obviously noticed something was wrong and was asking to appear...
No. No way he was going to let that snot-nose kid see him like this.
He wanted Arthur. Adalyn's younger brother with big brother attitude, efficient and strict and quiet. Always made it easier to ask for help when he didn’t make it feel like one.
His only other choise aside from the demon and Arthur was Adalyn. Adalyn and that little monster of hers, parading around her apartment, sleeping in her bed-
He vomited again, smaller and chunkier wave all over his front.
It wasn't a big deal. It wasn't like he was going to die from a little headache and stomach acid.
He was fine.
...
The next time he came to, Adalyn's blue-green eyes were so close he almost stopped breathing.
"Arms up, Ed. Come on, let's get you out of this shirt."
He obeyed, clumsily lifting his hands as she maneuvered him out of the soiled fabric.
Her silver-blond hair was pulled back in a loose bun, couple strands framing her face. Even frowning, her crystalline eyes the colour of sea glass and elf life features were the most stunning things he ever saw.
"W-what...?" He tried to speak, but his throat felt swollen and dry.
"You weren't picking up. I wanted to check if you had enough food. Lucian was making pizza."
Her proud tone made him grimace. Like she taught a hamster a cool trick. "I don't want any."
"Hardly, in your state," she said back, ignoring his biting tone. Or maybe he just looked too pathethic for it to work.
"Can you stand up?"
Edmond took a deep breath, but it didn't made the world twirl any less. "Dizzy."
"We can't have you crawling to bed now, can we?" she tugged at his arm. "Man up. Or should I call Lucian for help?"
That had him shooting up on instinct, gagging with disgust. He wouldn't let that deplorable sick thing touch him.
"There you go," Adalyn said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and steering him towards the modest bedroom. His apartment was right under hers.
By the sheer power of will not to take her down to the floor with him, he powered through the last steps and collapsed onto the bed with a heavy groan.
"You should get that concussion checked out- never mind, I know you won't go."
He grunted in response, glad she spared him a fight he wouldn't budge on.
"You should get proper covers and sheets for the bed. We have been here over a month and you are still not unpacked."
Edmond didn't have that many things to unpack. He wasn't a rich Castellan. Two shirts and long and short pants to move and train in where enough.
Closing his eyes in protest was all he managed to do.
The cold wetness on his face had his eyes shooting up, but it was only Adalyn wiping the blood of his face clean. "Shhhh. Go back to sleep. I got you a trashcan if you feel sick again."
She was so close. If his nose wasn't filled with the smell of vomit and sweat he could have enjoyed her lavender perfume. Adalyn in his bed. What a dream that was.
"You don't have to stay," he said sleepily, hoping for the opposite.
She scoffed somewhere over his ear. "Silly Edmond. Someone has to see if you wake up or not. We don't want a corpse rotting under my apartment."
He grinned and wanted to talk back, but only managed a yawn. Her presence made him feel safe as a knife under the pillow.
Edmond never made the mistake of underestimating Adalyn Castellan. Even if he did nothing else right by her, at least he never did that.
Noah overeats on tiramisu and strawberries. Graphic nausea and emeto.
Noah was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to be here.
Not just in Edmond's apartment, but currently occupying his bathroom while his stomach rebelled in a way he had never experienced before.
To be fair, his contracted human—hunter—had been injured and then they had a visitor and then Noah just accidently ended up chatting with the girl.
Obviously a significant girl, cause Adalyn could sense his presence from Edmond's bond without Noah needing to appear.
It felt very satisfying to be called by the new name. Names came with contracts, always specific to the spirit hunter and created an entirely new identity for the demon in question.
Noah hadn't had yet many opportunities to experience this new him.
And then Adalyn came again, to check on Edmond and said they were experiment with strawberry tiramisu and left some for him on the counter.
Strawberry tiramisu. What an amazing invention.
Demons didn't need to eat, but it sure as hell tasted good. Made Noah feel so much more real, to touch, smell and taste things...to eat them.
When he ate the first serving and Edmond slept the entire day and Adalyn barely made him eat crackers, Noah decided the tiramisu would go to waste without him.
So he rescued the portion left in the fridge. Entirely innocently and with good intentions.
Adalyn must have noticed, cause she gave him a satisfied smirk "that good?"...and brought him another.
With a huge bowl of fresh strawberries, cause apparently they bought too much and ran out of boxes to do them in.
Noah wasn't hungry. He was just bored and lonely and pretty sure once Edmond woke, he would make him disappear and never get access to strawberries again.
So he ate the box of tiramisu. With renewed urgency, since Edmond went to the bathroom by himself and generally showed more signs of life. Still collapsed back in bed, complaining about being dizzy, but he slept easier and gagged a lot less and his balanced was much better...
And Noah just wanted to enjoy the strawberries, was that so wrong?
He basically inhaled the huge box of tiramisu that had at least 6 servings in it...then hid himself on the balcony and snacked on the strawberries with cream and sugar.
It was delicious. An onslaught of sweetness and greatness, his fingers red from the juice.
Noah wasn't a demon of greed, but damn was this good.
For a good hour afterwards he just sat in the chair he stole from the kitchen, enjoying the breeze at the balcony and the pleasant fullness. Feeling seated had something in it, like he was complete and physical and present in the sunlight and the world in the best way possible.
Noah only noticed later, when he tried to straighten up, how huge his stomach got. It was bloated to the point it was pushing against his ribs. A weight settled on his chest, making it hard to breathe.
The sight made him self-conscious, so he got up to hide the evidence. His belly felt heavy, rolling with the movement and making him stumble.
Liquidy sugar swirl of strawberries gurgled loudly, so he hurried up inside in case someone would hear.
Getting the empty plasitc box into the trashcan was all he managed. Feeling impossibly tired, he crashed on the couch, mesmerised by the sheer size of his middle.
He had neevr experienced such bloating. His skin was tout and his stonach didn't feel like his own. Like a balloon someone filled inside him, it stretched as its own entity inside his body.
It was interesting for about 15 minutes. Then it got more gurgly and he felt so stuffed it was hard to catch his breath. The pressure built up he thought he was going to pop...and came out as a burp.
Huh. That actually helped. He massaged his tummy, first gently and then with more urgency, to get the feeling out.
A string of burps came up, relieving some of the air. For a couple of minutes, Noah felt content again. Close to sleep. This wasn't so bad.
Then the cramps started.
Pain right from the naval, coming in short waves, down below. The waves got longer the more he sat there.
He tried to burp again, but the air smelled sweet and sticky and made his throat feel all slimy.
His belly jumped up scarily, some of the slimy strawberry jam sliding up his throat.
Noah barely managed to gulp, sending the offending wave down. It tasted worse than before, all bitter and revolting and he shook with disgust.
Another burp made him jump, sweat and goosebumps covering hin head to toe.
Damn it, what did he do? Was it really so much?
His stomach didn't seem any smaller. If anything the fullness seemed to spred, his upper stonach filled with air while his lower belly filled with what felt like streams of water.
The room felt too hot and his shirt too tight. He couldn't breathe, a claustrophobic feeling overwhelming him. Like his own body was suffocating him.
And it hurt. The cramps got longer and more intense, making his whole middle spasm. A pain like being hit in the stomach, but repeatedly and from the inside.
He had seen that before, even felt it, but never from food. So Noah did the only reasonable thing — headed for the bathroom.
The small and cold space where he could safely lock himself in comforted him. His belly was making all sorts of upset, blabbering noises. His face felt hot, like he was turning to steam.
He curled up by the toilet, his belly not letting him straighten his back or sit against the wall.
Now he only dared to burp towards the toilet, afraid the slime would surge up into the world again.
But he couldn't exactly stop the air either. When he tried, his body hiccuped against his control, making the cramps worse.
It squeezed him so tight his eyes watered.
A different feeling hit him then. Everything stilled for a moment, as if it had been decided. Like something inevitable.
Then his belly spammed and cramped so hard he arched underneath it, moaning from the pain as thick, red mush shot out from his throat.
It coated the inside of the toilet, and Noah didn't even get a chance to breathe before the next wave came.
His stomach was squeezing and squeezing, death set to evaluate all its contents. Noah heaved once more, vomiting the third time, bits cream and white adding to the red mess.
He hit the flush bottom, not able to look at that disgusting sight. The cramps eased a little, but still there, pushing into the other direction now.
He belched emptily against the water, head buried so deep inside the toilet from fear of another wave. Nothing came up, just sticky red saliva.
Revulsion felt like a snake, sliding along his teeth and inside his throat. He gagged repeatedly over the toilet at the sensation, his stomach rolling and bubbling inside him.
He was exhausted and breathless and his upper stomach hurt from the strain. His throat burned. The fullness feeling felt sickly and too heavy and he just wanted it to stop.
The pressure and pain moved entirely down to his lower belly. It felt tight and painful, like he couldn't move an inch, locked in that position. Like a brick that stopped inside him, too big to move forward.
Noah groaned, bracing against the toilet for support, when he suddenly understood which was his belly wanted to push.
...
"You poisoned my demon?" Edmond said, eyes wide and way too amused.
Adalyn rolled her eyes. "I brought him a cake and strawberries. He overeate on them all on his own."
"Who knows, maybe your demon meant to poison you and ended up hurting mine-"
"Shut up." Adalyn punched Edmond on the arm. They were in his bed, where Edmond managed to sit upright without falling or feeling like he was going to hurt.
His head was still off, as if someone was holding it in vice metal grip, but he felt a bit stronger and more aware.
Adalyn sat beside him, nonchalant, as if their proximity did nothing to her insides.
Apparently, it did not.
"Did you talk to him?" she asked curiously.
"No. Didn't even know he was here." Edmond threw her a nasty look. "Stop encouraging him to appear, wohld you?"
"I'm just saying you should work on your partnership bond." Her eyes narrowed. "He could have helped you with the injury, if you let him."
"He would have. Doesn't mean I would be okay with it."
"Then start getting to it, cause this is stupid. And inefficient, in your world."
He glared at her and she giggled, not a bit terrified by his most scary, viscious expression.
If anything, she was more excited for getting to him.
He sighed tiredly. "When is the bathroom gonna be free? I need a shower."
"Not anytime soon. Noah has been in there for the last hour and from the sounds, I wouldn't say he is finished."
"Why would you listen to-"
"Just the groans and moans," Adalyn waved her hand. "I asked him if he wanted anything, but he just whined and put the faucet on. What a cutie."
Edmond shook his head at the ridiculous word. "He is a demon. More stupid than anything else."
"My dessert was perfect then," she smiled victoriously, "if it made him so greedy. Shame on you for not trying it out."
Noah overeats on tiramisu and strawberries. Graphic nausea and emeto.
Noah was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to be here.
Not just in Edmond's apartment, but currently occupying his bathroom while his stomach rebelled in a way he had never experienced before.
To be fair, his contracted human—hunter—had been injured and then they had a visitor and then Noah just accidently ended up chatting with the girl.
Obviously a significant girl, cause Adalyn could sense his presence from Edmond's bond without Noah needing to appear.
It felt very satisfying to be called by the new name. Names came with contracts, always specific to the spirit hunter and created an entirely new identity for the demon in question.
Noah hadn't had yet many opportunities to experience this new him.
And then Adalyn came again, to check on Edmond and said they were experiment with strawberry tiramisu and left some for him on the counter.
Strawberry tiramisu. What an amazing invention.
Demons didn't need to eat, but it sure as hell tasted good. Made Noah feel so much more real, to touch, smell and taste things...to eat them.
When he ate the first serving and Edmond slept the entire day and Adalyn barely made him eat crackers, Noah decided the tiramisu would go to waste without him.
So he rescued the portion left in the fridge. Entirely innocently and with good intentions.
Adalyn must have noticed, cause she gave him a satisfied smirk "that good?"...and brought him another.
With a huge bowl of fresh strawberries, cause apparently they bought too much and ran out of boxes to do them in.
Noah wasn't hungry. He was just bored and lonely and pretty sure once Edmond woke, he would make him disappear and never get access to strawberries again.
So he ate the box of tiramisu. With renewed urgency, since Edmond went to the bathroom by himself and generally showed more signs of life. Still collapsed back in bed, complaining about being dizzy, but he slept easier and gagged a lot less and his balanced was much better...
And Noah just wanted to enjoy the strawberries, was that so wrong?
He basically inhaled the huge box of tiramisu that had at least 6 servings in it...then hid himself on the balcony and snacked on the strawberries with cream and sugar.
It was delicious. An onslaught of sweetness and greatness, his fingers red from the juice.
Noah wasn't a demon of greed, but damn was this good.
For a good hour afterwards he just sat in the chair he stole from the kitchen, enjoying the breeze at the balcony and the pleasant fullness. Feeling seated had something in it, like he was complete and physical and present in the sunlight and the world in the best way possible.
Noah only noticed later, when he tried to straighten up, how huge his stomach got. It was bloated to the point it was pushing against his ribs. A weight settled on his chest, making it hard to breathe.
The sight made him self-conscious, so he got up to hide the evidence. His belly felt heavy, rolling with the movement and making him stumble.
Liquidy sugar swirl of strawberries gurgled loudly, so he hurried up inside in case someone would hear.
Getting the empty plasitc box into the trashcan was all he managed. Feeling impossibly tired, he crashed on the couch, mesmerised by the sheer size of his middle.
He had neevr experienced such bloating. His skin was tout and his stonach didn't feel like his own. Like a balloon someone filled inside him, it stretched as its own entity inside his body.
It was interesting for about 15 minutes. Then it got more gurgly and he felt so stuffed it was hard to catch his breath. The pressure built up he thought he was going to pop...and came out as a burp.
Huh. That actually helped. He massaged his tummy, first gently and then with more urgency, to get the feeling out.
A string of burps came up, relieving some of the air. For a couple of minutes, Noah felt content again. Close to sleep. This wasn't so bad.
Then the cramps started.
Pain right from the naval, coming in short waves, down below. The waves got longer the more he sat there.
He tried to burp again, but the air smelled sweet and sticky and made his throat feel all slimy.
His belly jumped up scarily, some of the slimy strawberry jam sliding up his throat.
Noah barely managed to gulp, sending the offending wave down. It tasted worse than before, all bitter and revolting and he shook with disgust.
Another burp made him jump, sweat and goosebumps covering hin head to toe.
Damn it, what did he do? Was it really so much?
His stomach didn't seem any smaller. If anything the fullness seemed to spred, his upper stonach filled with air while his lower belly filled with what felt like streams of water.
The room felt too hot and his shirt too tight. He couldn't breathe, a claustrophobic feeling overwhelming him. Like his own body was suffocating him.
And it hurt. The cramps got longer and more intense, making his whole middle spasm. A pain like being hit in the stomach, but repeatedly and from the inside.
He had seen that before, even felt it, but never from food. So Noah did the only reasonable thing — headed for the bathroom.
The small and cold space where he could safely lock himself in comforted him. His belly was making all sorts of upset, blabbering noises. His face felt hot, like he was turning to steam.
He curled up by the toilet, his belly not letting him straighten his back or sit against the wall.
Now he only dared to burp towards the toilet, afraid the slime would surge up into the world again.
But he couldn't exactly stop the air either. When he tried, his body hiccuped against his control, making the cramps worse.
It squeezed him so tight his eyes watered.
A different feeling hit him then. Everything stilled for a moment, as if it had been decided. Like something inevitable.
Then his belly spammed and cramped so hard he arched underneath it, moaning from the pain as thick, red mush shot out from his throat.
It coated the inside of the toilet, and Noah didn't even get a chance to breathe before the next wave came.
His stomach was squeezing and squeezing, death set to evaluate all its contents. Noah heaved once more, vomiting the third time, bits cream and white adding to the red mess.
He hit the flush bottom, not able to look at that disgusting sight. The cramps eased a little, but still there, pushing into the other direction now.
He belched emptily against the water, head buried so deep inside the toilet from fear of another wave. Nothing came up, just sticky red saliva.
Revulsion felt like a snake, sliding along his teeth and inside his throat. He gagged repeatedly over the toilet at the sensation, his stomach rolling and bubbling inside him.
He was exhausted and breathless and his upper stomach hurt from the strain. His throat burned. The fullness feeling felt sickly and too heavy and he just wanted it to stop.
The pressure and pain moved entirely down to his lower belly. It felt tight and painful, like he couldn't move an inch, locked in that position. Like a brick that stopped inside him, too big to move forward.
Noah groaned, bracing against the toilet for support, when he suddenly understood which was his belly wanted to push.
...
"You poisoned my demon?" Edmond said, eyes wide and way too amused.
Adalyn rolled her eyes. "I brought him a cake and strawberries. He overeate on them all on his own."
"Who knows, maybe your demon meant to poison you and ended up hurting mine-"
"Shut up." Adalyn punched Edmond on the arm. They were in his bed, where Edmond managed to sit upright without falling or feeling like he was going to hurt.
His head was still off, as if someone was holding it in vice metal grip, but he felt a bit stronger and more aware.
Adalyn sat beside him, nonchalant, as if their proximity did nothing to her insides.
Apparently, it did not.
"Did you talk to him?" she asked curiously.
"No. Didn't even know he was here." Edmond threw her a nasty look. "Stop encouraging him to appear, wohld you?"
"I'm just saying you should work on your partnership bond." Her eyes narrowed. "He could have helped you with the injury, if you let him."
"He would have. Doesn't mean I would be okay with it."
"Then start getting to it, cause this is stupid. And inefficient, in your world."
He glared at her and she giggled, not a bit terrified by his most scary, viscious expression.
If anything, she was more excited for getting to him.
He sighed tiredly. "When is the bathroom gonna be free? I need a shower."
"Not anytime soon. Noah has been in there for the last hour and from the sounds, I wouldn't say he is finished."
"Why would you listen to-"
"Just the groans and moans," Adalyn waved her hand. "I asked him if he wanted anything, but he just whined and put the faucet on. What a cutie."
Edmond shook his head at the ridiculous word. "He is a demon. More stupid than anything else."
"My dessert was perfect then," she smiled victoriously, "if it made him so greedy. Shame on you for not trying it out."
Noah overeats on tiramisu and strawberries. Graphic nausea and emeto.
Noah was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to be here.
Not just in Edmond's apartment, but currently occupying his bathroom while his stomach rebelled in a way he had never experienced before.
To be fair, his contracted human—hunter—had been injured and then they had a visitor and then Noah just accidently ended up chatting with the girl.
Obviously a significant girl, cause Adalyn could sense his presence from Edmond's bond without Noah needing to appear.
It felt very satisfying to be called by the new name. Names came with contracts, always specific to the spirit hunter and created an entirely new identity for the demon in question.
Noah hadn't had yet many opportunities to experience this new him.
And then Adalyn came again, to check on Edmond and said they were experiment with strawberry tiramisu and left some for him on the counter.
Strawberry tiramisu. What an amazing invention.
Demons didn't need to eat, but it sure as hell tasted good. Made Noah feel so much more real, to touch, smell and taste things...to eat them.
When he ate the first serving and Edmond slept the entire day and Adalyn barely made him eat crackers, Noah decided the tiramisu would go to waste without him.
So he rescued the portion left in the fridge. Entirely innocently and with good intentions.
Adalyn must have noticed, cause she gave him a satisfied smirk "that good?"...and brought him another.
With a huge bowl of fresh strawberries, cause apparently they bought too much and ran out of boxes to do them in.
Noah wasn't hungry. He was just bored and lonely and pretty sure once Edmond woke, he would make him disappear and never get access to strawberries again.
So he ate the box of tiramisu. With renewed urgency, since Edmond went to the bathroom by himself and generally showed more signs of life. Still collapsed back in bed, complaining about being dizzy, but he slept easier and gagged a lot less and his balanced was much better...
And Noah just wanted to enjoy the strawberries, was that so wrong?
He basically inhaled the huge box of tiramisu that had at least 6 servings in it...then hid himself on the balcony and snacked on the strawberries with cream and sugar.
It was delicious. An onslaught of sweetness and greatness, his fingers red from the juice.
Noah wasn't a demon of greed, but damn was this good.
For a good hour afterwards he just sat in the chair he stole from the kitchen, enjoying the breeze at the balcony and the pleasant fullness. Feeling seated had something in it, like he was complete and physical and present in the sunlight and the world in the best way possible.
Noah only noticed later, when he tried to straighten up, how huge his stomach got. It was bloated to the point it was pushing against his ribs. A weight settled on his chest, making it hard to breathe.
The sight made him self-conscious, so he got up to hide the evidence. His belly felt heavy, rolling with the movement and making him stumble.
Liquidy sugar swirl of strawberries gurgled loudly, so he hurried up inside in case someone would hear.
Getting the empty plasitc box into the trashcan was all he managed. Feeling impossibly tired, he crashed on the couch, mesmerised by the sheer size of his middle.
He had neevr experienced such bloating. His skin was tout and his stonach didn't feel like his own. Like a balloon someone filled inside him, it stretched as its own entity inside his body.
It was interesting for about 15 minutes. Then it got more gurgly and he felt so stuffed it was hard to catch his breath. The pressure built up he thought he was going to pop...and came out as a burp.
Huh. That actually helped. He massaged his tummy, first gently and then with more urgency, to get the feeling out.
A string of burps came up, relieving some of the air. For a couple of minutes, Noah felt content again. Close to sleep. This wasn't so bad.
Then the cramps started.
Pain right from the naval, coming in short waves, down below. The waves got longer the more he sat there.
He tried to burp again, but the air smelled sweet and sticky and made his throat feel all slimy.
His belly jumped up scarily, some of the slimy strawberry jam sliding up his throat.
Noah barely managed to gulp, sending the offending wave down. It tasted worse than before, all bitter and revolting and he shook with disgust.
Another burp made him jump, sweat and goosebumps covering hin head to toe.
Damn it, what did he do? Was it really so much?
His stomach didn't seem any smaller. If anything the fullness seemed to spred, his upper stonach filled with air while his lower belly filled with what felt like streams of water.
The room felt too hot and his shirt too tight. He couldn't breathe, a claustrophobic feeling overwhelming him. Like his own body was suffocating him.
And it hurt. The cramps got longer and more intense, making his whole middle spasm. A pain like being hit in the stomach, but repeatedly and from the inside.
He had seen that before, even felt it, but never from food. So Noah did the only reasonable thing — headed for the bathroom.
The small and cold space where he could safely lock himself in comforted him. His belly was making all sorts of upset, blabbering noises. His face felt hot, like he was turning to steam.
He curled up by the toilet, his belly not letting him straighten his back or sit against the wall.
Now he only dared to burp towards the toilet, afraid the slime would surge up into the world again.
But he couldn't exactly stop the air either. When he tried, his body hiccuped against his control, making the cramps worse.
It squeezed him so tight his eyes watered.
A different feeling hit him then. Everything stilled for a moment, as if it had been decided. Like something inevitable.
Then his belly spammed and cramped so hard he arched underneath it, moaning from the pain as thick, red mush shot out from his throat.
It coated the inside of the toilet, and Noah didn't even get a chance to breathe before the next wave came.
His stomach was squeezing and squeezing, death set to evaluate all its contents. Noah heaved once more, vomiting the third time, bits cream and white adding to the red mess.
He hit the flush bottom, not able to look at that disgusting sight. The cramps eased a little, but still there, pushing into the other direction now.
He belched emptily against the water, head buried so deep inside the toilet from fear of another wave. Nothing came up, just sticky red saliva.
Revulsion felt like a snake, sliding along his teeth and inside his throat. He gagged repeatedly over the toilet at the sensation, his stomach rolling and bubbling inside him.
He was exhausted and breathless and his upper stomach hurt from the strain. His throat burned. The fullness feeling felt sickly and too heavy and he just wanted it to stop.
The pressure and pain moved entirely down to his lower belly. It felt tight and painful, like he couldn't move an inch, locked in that position. Like a brick that stopped inside him, too big to move forward.
Noah groaned, bracing against the toilet for support, when he suddenly understood which was his belly wanted to push.
...
"You poisoned my demon?" Edmond said, eyes wide and way too amused.
Adalyn rolled her eyes. "I brought him a cake and strawberries. He overeate on them all on his own."
"Who knows, maybe your demon meant to poison you and ended up hurting mine-"
"Shut up." Adalyn punched Edmond on the arm. They were in his bed, where Edmond managed to sit upright without falling or feeling like he was going to hurt.
His head was still off, as if someone was holding it in vice metal grip, but he felt a bit stronger and more aware.
Adalyn sat beside him, nonchalant, as if their proximity did nothing to her insides.
Apparently, it did not.
"Did you talk to him?" she asked curiously.
"No. Didn't even know he was here." Edmond threw her a nasty look. "Stop encouraging him to appear, wohld you?"
"I'm just saying you should work on your partnership bond." Her eyes narrowed. "He could have helped you with the injury, if you let him."
"He would have. Doesn't mean I would be okay with it."
"Then start getting to it, cause this is stupid. And inefficient, in your world."
He glared at her and she giggled, not a bit terrified by his most scary, viscious expression.
If anything, she was more excited for getting to him.
He sighed tiredly. "When is the bathroom gonna be free? I need a shower."
"Not anytime soon. Noah has been in there for the last hour and from the sounds, I wouldn't say he is finished."
"Why would you listen to-"
"Just the groans and moans," Adalyn waved her hand. "I asked him if he wanted anything, but he just whined and put the faucet on. What a cutie."
Edmond shook his head at the ridiculous word. "He is a demon. More stupid than anything else."
"My dessert was perfect then," she smiled victoriously, "if it made him so greedy. Shame on you for not trying it out."
Edmond sick from a concussion plus Adalyn careraker. Emeto included.
When Edmond came to, he was inside an unfamiliar place and his head was still pounding.
It took him a second to register that the wet cold thing on the side of his face was blood. The whole room smelled metallic from it.
He was sitting propped up against his new closet he hadn't had time to put together yet...why was he in a new place again?
Trying to move was a bad idea. Vertigo assaulted him so strongly he flipped right back on his ass, blinking rapidly.
The blow to the head might have been a concussion. Which would explain the confusion.
The place was still unfamiliar, but that was because it was new. Emond moved here just recently...for an important reason he couldn't remember.
The night was nothing new. He was out hunting demons, his favourite activity. Cleaning up the perimeter especially since it wasn't used to the presence of spirit hunters.
And because he wanted Adalyn's new place to be safe.
Ahhh. Right. Adalyn. His life has been wrapped around her since he was little.
Demons and Adalyn. What a fitting quote for his gravestone. There was not much else going on in his life.
Edmond Moonshade was the only hunter who knew about Adalyn's demon experiment. When she packed up to leave her family home and moved to the other side of town, he had not so discreetly followed after her.
Partly cause he was worried as heck and partly so her parents wouldn't have to be. Might have even earned him an appreciative nod from Adalyn's dad.
Except then he couldn't stop her from improsonig the king of demons and now he was basically cooperating in her crime by keeping it safe.
Well. Edmond would keep her safe. And when the demon king regained his senses and showed his true colours, Edmond would be the first one there; ready to kill it.
He could not by any means trust a demon without a proper binding contract. It wasn't like his own demon and the locked positions he was keeping it in.
If he wanted, he could call Noah right now and ask for his assistance. But the idea of letting the demon that close to him, when Edmond felt so weak and vulnerable was unthinkable.
He just needed to sleep and he would be fine.
Slowly, he tried to stand up again.
A nausous slime rocked up his throat. Pressure slammed into his stomach like a hit.
Edmond only had time to turn his head and retch on the floor as watery vomit sprayed all over the floor.
The smell and feeling made him heave again, the loud throaty noise echoing through the empty apartment.
Just his luck, to get injured the second month on duty, without access to help or assistance.
He breathed harshly through the nest spasms, black spots dancing in his vision. His left hand, with the invisible mark of the demon contract burned.
Noah obviously noticed something was wrong and was asking to appear...
No. No way he was going to let that snot-nose kid see him like this.
He wanted Arthur. Adalyn's younger brother with big brother attitude, efficient and strict and quiet. Always made it easier to ask for help when he didn’t make it feel like one.
His only other choise aside from the demon and Arthur was Adalyn. Adalyn and that little monster of hers, parading around her apartment, sleeping in her bed-
He vomited again, smaller and chunkier wave all over his front.
It wasn't a big deal. It wasn't like he was going to die from a little headache and stomach acid.
He was fine.
...
The next time he came to, Adalyn's blue-green eyes were so close he almost stopped breathing.
"Arms up, Ed. Come on, let's get you out of this shirt."
He obeyed, clumsily lifting his hands as she maneuvered him out of the soiled fabric.
Her silver-blond hair was pulled back in a loose bun, couple strands framing her face. Even frowning, her crystalline eyes the colour of sea glass and elf life features were the most stunning things he ever saw.
"W-what...?" He tried to speak, but his throat felt swollen and dry.
"You weren't picking up. I wanted to check if you had enough food. Lucian was making pizza."
Her proud tone made him grimace. Like she taught a hamster a cool trick. "I don't want any."
"Hardly, in your state," she said back, ignoring his biting tone. Or maybe he just looked too pathethic for it to work.
"Can you stand up?"
Edmond took a deep breath, but it didn't made the world twirl any less. "Dizzy."
"We can't have you crawling to bed now, can we?" she tugged at his arm. "Man up. Or should I call Lucian for help?"
That had him shooting up on instinct, gagging with disgust. He wouldn't let that deplorable sick thing touch him.
"There you go," Adalyn said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and steering him towards the modest bedroom. His apartment was right under hers.
By the sheer power of will not to take her down to the floor with him, he powered through the last steps and collapsed onto the bed with a heavy groan.
"You should get that concussion checked out- never mind, I know you won't go."
He grunted in response, glad she spared him a fight he wouldn't budge on.
"You should get proper covers and sheets for the bed. We have been here over a month and you are still not unpacked."
Edmond didn't have that many things to unpack. He wasn't a rich Castellan. Two shirts and long and short pants to move and train in where enough.
Closing his eyes in protest was all he managed to do.
The cold wetness on his face had his eyes shooting up, but it was only Adalyn wiping the blood of his face clean. "Shhhh. Go back to sleep. I got you a trashcan if you feel sick again."
She was so close. If his nose wasn't filled with the smell of vomit and sweat he could have enjoyed her lavender perfume. Adalyn in his bed. What a dream that was.
"You don't have to stay," he said sleepily, hoping for the opposite.
She scoffed somewhere over his ear. "Silly Edmond. Someone has to see if you wake up or not. We don't want a corpse rotting under my apartment."
He grinned and wanted to talk back, but only managed a yawn. Her presence made him feel safe as a knife under the pillow.
Edmond never made the mistake of underestimating Adalyn Castellan. Even if he did nothing else right by her, at least he never did that.
Edmond sick from a concussion plus Adalyn careraker. Emeto included.
When Edmond came to, he was inside an unfamiliar place and his head was still pounding.
It took him a second to register that the wet cold thing on the side of his face was blood. The whole room smelled metallic from it.
He was sitting propped up against his new closet he hadn't had time to put together yet...why was he in a new place again?
Trying to move was a bad idea. Vertigo assaulted him so strongly he flipped right back on his ass, blinking rapidly.
The blow to the head might have been a concussion. Which would explain the confusion.
The place was still unfamiliar, but that was because it was new. Emond moved here just recently...for an important reason he couldn't remember.
The night was nothing new. He was out hunting demons, his favourite activity. Cleaning up the perimeter especially since it wasn't used to the presence of spirit hunters.
And because he wanted Adalyn's new place to be safe.
Ahhh. Right. Adalyn. His life has been wrapped around her since he was little.
Demons and Adalyn. What a fitting quote for his gravestone. There was not much else going on in his life.
Edmond Moonshade was the only hunter who knew about Adalyn's demon experiment. When she packed up to leave her family home and moved to the other side of town, he had not so discreetly followed after her.
Partly cause he was worried as heck and partly so her parents wouldn't have to be. Might have even earned him an appreciative nod from Adalyn's dad.
Except then he couldn't stop her from improsonig the king of demons and now he was basically cooperating in her crime by keeping it safe.
Well. Edmond would keep her safe. And when the demon king regained his senses and showed his true colours, Edmond would be the first one there; ready to kill it.
He could not by any means trust a demon without a proper binding contract. It wasn't like his own demon and the locked positions he was keeping it in.
If he wanted, he could call Noah right now and ask for his assistance. But the idea of letting the demon that close to him, when Edmond felt so weak and vulnerable was unthinkable.
He just needed to sleep and he would be fine.
Slowly, he tried to stand up again.
A nausous slime rocked up his throat. Pressure slammed into his stomach like a hit.
Edmond only had time to turn his head and retch on the floor as watery vomit sprayed all over the floor.
The smell and feeling made him heave again, the loud throaty noise echoing through the empty apartment.
Just his luck, to get injured the second month on duty, without access to help or assistance.
He breathed harshly through the nest spasms, black spots dancing in his vision. His left hand, with the invisible mark of the demon contract burned.
Noah obviously noticed something was wrong and was asking to appear...
No. No way he was going to let that snot-nose kid see him like this.
He wanted Arthur. Adalyn's younger brother with big brother attitude, efficient and strict and quiet. Always made it easier to ask for help when he didn’t make it feel like one.
His only other choise aside from the demon and Arthur was Adalyn. Adalyn and that little monster of hers, parading around her apartment, sleeping in her bed-
He vomited again, smaller and chunkier wave all over his front.
It wasn't a big deal. It wasn't like he was going to die from a little headache and stomach acid.
He was fine.
...
The next time he came to, Adalyn's blue-green eyes were so close he almost stopped breathing.
"Arms up, Ed. Come on, let's get you out of this shirt."
He obeyed, clumsily lifting his hands as she maneuvered him out of the soiled fabric.
Her silver-blond hair was pulled back in a loose bun, couple strands framing her face. Even frowning, her crystalline eyes the colour of sea glass and elf life features were the most stunning things he ever saw.
"W-what...?" He tried to speak, but his throat felt swollen and dry.
"You weren't picking up. I wanted to check if you had enough food. Lucian was making pizza."
Her proud tone made him grimace. Like she taught a hamster a cool trick. "I don't want any."
"Hardly, in your state," she said back, ignoring his biting tone. Or maybe he just looked too pathethic for it to work.
"Can you stand up?"
Edmond took a deep breath, but it didn't made the world twirl any less. "Dizzy."
"We can't have you crawling to bed now, can we?" she tugged at his arm. "Man up. Or should I call Lucian for help?"
That had him shooting up on instinct, gagging with disgust. He wouldn't let that deplorable sick thing touch him.
"There you go," Adalyn said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and steering him towards the modest bedroom. His apartment was right under hers.
By the sheer power of will not to take her down to the floor with him, he powered through the last steps and collapsed onto the bed with a heavy groan.
"You should get that concussion checked out- never mind, I know you won't go."
He grunted in response, glad she spared him a fight he wouldn't budge on.
"You should get proper covers and sheets for the bed. We have been here over a month and you are still not unpacked."
Edmond didn't have that many things to unpack. He wasn't a rich Castellan. Two shirts and long and short pants to move and train in where enough.
Closing his eyes in protest was all he managed to do.
The cold wetness on his face had his eyes shooting up, but it was only Adalyn wiping the blood of his face clean. "Shhhh. Go back to sleep. I got you a trashcan if you feel sick again."
She was so close. If his nose wasn't filled with the smell of vomit and sweat he could have enjoyed her lavender perfume. Adalyn in his bed. What a dream that was.
"You don't have to stay," he said sleepily, hoping for the opposite.
She scoffed somewhere over his ear. "Silly Edmond. Someone has to see if you wake up or not. We don't want a corpse rotting under my apartment."
He grinned and wanted to talk back, but only managed a yawn. Her presence made him feel safe as a knife under the pillow.
Edmond never made the mistake of underestimating Adalyn Castellan. Even if he did nothing else right by her, at least he never did that.
Edmond sick from a concussion plus Adalyn careraker. Emeto included.
When Edmond came to, he was inside an unfamiliar place and his head was still pounding.
It took him a second to register that the wet cold thing on the side of his face was blood. The whole room smelled metallic from it.
He was sitting propped up against his new closet he hadn't had time to put together yet...why was he in a new place again?
Trying to move was a bad idea. Vertigo assaulted him so strongly he flipped right back on his ass, blinking rapidly.
The blow to the head might have been a concussion. Which would explain the confusion.
The place was still unfamiliar, but that was because it was new. Emond moved here just recently...for an important reason he couldn't remember.
The night was nothing new. He was out hunting demons, his favourite activity. Cleaning up the perimeter especially since it wasn't used to the presence of spirit hunters.
And because he wanted Adalyn's new place to be safe.
Ahhh. Right. Adalyn. His life has been wrapped around her since he was little.
Demons and Adalyn. What a fitting quote for his gravestone. There was not much else going on in his life.
Edmond Wild was the only hunter who knew about Adalyn's demon experiment. When she packed up to leave her family home and moved to the other side of town, he had not so discreetly followed after her.
Partly cause he was worried as heck and partly so her parents wouldn't have to be. Might have even earned him an appreciative nod from Adalyn's dad.
Except then he couldn't stop her from improsonig the king of demons and now he was basically cooperating in her crime by keeping it safe.
Well. Edmond would keep her safe. And when the demon king regained his senses and showed his true colours, Edmond would be the first one there; ready to kill it.
He could not by any means trust a demon without a proper binding contract. It wasn't like his own demon and the locked positions he was keeping it in.
If he wanted, he could call Noah right now and ask for his assistance. But the idea of letting the demon that close to him, when Edmond felt so weak and vulnerable was unthinkable.
He just needed to sleep and he would be fine.
Slowly, he tried to stand up again.
A nausous slime rocked up his throat. Pressure slammed into his stomach like a hit.
Edmond only had time to turn his head and retch on the floor as watery vomit sprayed all over the floor.
The smell and feeling made him heave again, the loud throaty noise echoing through the empty apartment.
Just his luck, to get injured the second month on duty, without access to help or assistance.
He breathed harshly through the nest spasms, black spots dancing in his vision. His left hand, with the invisible mark of the demon contract burned.
Noah obviously noticed something was wrong and was asking to appear...
No. No way he was going to let that snot-nose kid see him like this.
He wanted Arthur. Adalyn's younger brother with big brother attitude, efficient and strict and quiet. Always made it easier to ask for help when he didn’t make it feel like one.
His only other choise aside from the demon and Arthur was Adalyn. Adalyn and that little monster of hers, parading around her apartment, sleeping in her bed-
He vomited again, smaller and chunkier wave all over his front.
It wasn't a big deal. It wasn't like he was going to die from a little headache and stomach acid.
He was fine.
...
The next time he came to, Adalyn's blue-green eyes were so close he almost stopped breathing.
"Arms up, Ed. Come on, let's get you out of this shirt."
He obeyed, clumsily lifting his hands as she maneuvered him out of the soiled fabric.
Her silver-blond hair was pulled back in a loose bun, couple strands framing her face. Even frowning, her crystalline eyes the colour of sea glass and elf life features were the most stunning things he ever saw.
"W-what...?" He tried to speak, but his throat felt swollen and dry.
"You weren't picking up. I wanted to check if you had enough food. Lucian was making pizza."
Her proud tone made him grimace. Like she taught a hamster a cool trick. "I don't want any."
"Hardly, in your state," she said back, ignoring his biting tone. Or maybe he just looked too pathethic for it to work.
"Can you stand up?"
Edmond took a deep breath, but it didn't made the world twirl any less. "Dizzy."
"We can't have you crawling to bed now, can we?" she tugged at his arm. "Man up. Or should I call Lucian for help?"
That had him shooting up on instinct, gagging with disgust. He wouldn't let that deplorable sick thing touch him.
"There you go," Adalyn said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and steering him towards the modest bedroom. His apartment was right under hers.
By the sheer power of will not to take her down to the floor with him, he powered through the last steps and collapsed onto the bed with a heavy groan.
"You should get that concussion checked out- never mind, I know you won't go."
He grunted in response, glad she spared him a fight he wouldn't budge on.
"You should get proper covers and sheets for the bed. We have been here over a month and you are still not unpacked."
Edmond didn't have that many things to unpack. He wasn't a rich Castellan. Two shirts and long and short pants to move and train in where enough.
Closing his eyes in protest was all he managed to do.
The cold wetness on his face had his eyes shooting up, but it was only Adalyn wiping the blood of his face clean. "Shhhh. Go back to sleep. I got you a trashcan if you feel sick again."
She was so close. If his nose wasn't filled with the smell of vomit and sweat he could have enjoyed her lavender perfume. Adalyn in his bed. What a dream that was.
"You don't have to stay," he said sleepily, hoping for the opposite.
She scoffed somewhere over his ear. "Silly Edmond. Someone has to see if you wake up or not. We don't want a corpse rotting under my apartment."
He grinned and wanted to talk back, but only managed a yawn. Her presence made him feel safe as a knife under the pillow.
Edmond never made the mistake of underestimating Adalyn Castellan. Even if he did nothing else right by her, at least he never did that.
"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."
"Bell," the lightheartedness was gone from Luke's voice and Bella snapped her head up to look at him, instead of staring out of the passenger window, watching as the sky changed colors and humming to the music, "can you drive?"
"Uh- Yeah, sure," she frowned, surprised. Normally Lucas insisted on driving, not because he didn't like her doing it, but because he grew restless super quickly on the passenger seat, "what's wrong?"
In an impromptu weekend trip, they had driven down to the beach and spent the night in a hotel. Bella was now a whole different shade of golden brown and her hair had gained a couple copper ringlets in the middle of the mass of auburn curls. Luke hadn't tanned, but he had new freckles pecking his cheeks, as well as a blush on his nose bridge and shoulders, his hair curlier than wavy, thanks to the saltwater. She loved it.
Now, however, the blush looked completely out of place on his pale face and he was squeezing the steering wheel as he signaled and pulled the car to an emergency stop.
"I don't know," he mumbled, shoving his door open but making no movement to get out, resting his forehead on the steering wheel, "stomach is feeling awful."
"Are you getting carsick?" Bella frowned, confused. They hadn't gone all out with the food, nothing too weird. He had had seafood for yesterday's lunch, but it was far too late to be some sort of food poisoning hitting nearly twenty six hours too late. Today's lunch had been light, just a salad they shared, and Bella didn't feel sick at all.
"I don't know," his cheeks bulged with a soft burp, "maybe? Doesn't feel like reflux, I'm just-" another little burp, no heat behind it, "queasy."
"Okay, baby," Bella jumped from her seat, circling the vehicle, "c'mon, get on the passenger side, let me lean your seat back- Oh whoa, Luke."
She pulled her hands back, because as Luke circled the car and got on the passenger side, she had reached to open his shorts, only to realize just how bloated his belly looked.
"Damn, you rounded up," Bell commented, raising her eyebrows. He offered her an indulgent smile, although there were pained lines next to his eyes and Bella quickly undid his short's fly, rolling it down to give space to his stomach.
There was not a hint of abs ever being there, he was taut, it looked painful, "that cannot feel good," she rubbed her hand across his stomach in a soothing manner, noticing how warm the skin felt, "I'm gonna pull over in the first motel we pass."
"No," Luke groaned, fiddling with the seat until he managed to get more space for his legs, "I wanna go home, we're just two hours out."
"Okay..." She didn't feel very sure about that, but Bella nodded and shut his door, getting back onto the driver's seat. Stupid giraffe husband who needed to push his seat all the way back.
"Maybe it was too much sun on that beautiful head of yours," Bella suggested, pulling them back on the road and checking if both their windows were rolled down. It had been an unusually warm weekend after a cold week, and they were both wearing tank tops, although they hadn't turned on the A/C.
Luke let out a huff, closing his eyes and leaning back his head, "maybe..." He gulped down, "I just don't feel good."
"Awn, baby," Bella removed a hand from the steering wheel, burying it on his hair and starting to pet it, nails scratching his scalp as she kept her eyes on the road. It was quite a relaxing drive, she wasn't speeding, not too worried.
A handful of minutes later, Luke shuffled next to her, her hand falling from his hair to his shoulder, and Bell stole a concerned glance his way. He was pale as spoiled milk, a hand moving to rest on his bloated stomach, eyes glassy.
"Luke?"
"Is there a gas stop coming up?" He asked, gulping down, bracing his forearm on top of the glovebox and hiding his face in it.
"Uhh..." Bella flickered her eyes to their multimedia, checking the GPS, "yeah, about ten minutes out."
"Okay," he breathed out, wrapping an arm around his belly. Bella cringed, rubbing a hand up and down his back, not missing the fact his tank top was getting damp with sweat.
"Did you eat anything I didn't?" She wondered, out loud, and speeding up a little more. Luke reached in and hit the middle button, killing the radio.
"Uhm-" his face scrunched up, "I dunno, uh- Shrimp last night?"
"I had that too, Luke," she wiped a droplet of sweat that was running down his temple. In the quiet of the car, she heard a nasty watery gurgle coming from his stomach and he winced, gritting his teeth.
She sped up, letting out a relieved breath when the gas station came into view. As soon as she stopped, Luke jumped out and power walked inside the attached convenience store.
Bella cringed, taking a minute to follow and walking around the place as she waited for him. It had a small pharmacy, with only OTC stuff and she got him an array of meds, hoping to help somehow. Pepto, Imodium, antiacids... Tylenol...?
"You had six piña coladas yesterday," Bella said, as soon as Luke emerged from the men's room, looking even more clammy than before, despite the clear fact he had just washed his face, wet wisps of hair falling over his forehead, "you're hungover, baby."
"No way," Luke groaned, taking the paper bag she was holding and digging through it. He grabbed the gatorade bottle, breaking the seal and gulping it down greedily as he followed her outside.
"Yes, way," Bella snorted, cupping his face and stroking his overheated cheeks, "we had salad for lunch because you said you weren't hungry. We slept in. Clearly we underestimated how tipsy you were last night."
Luke scoffed, resting his back against the side of the car and spreading his legs apart, to lower himself to her height, "amazing," he said, sourly, "I'm hungover from freaking piña colada. A girl's drink."
"Sexist," Bella chuckled, getting on her tip toes and throwing her arms around his neck, stealing a kiss even if he had maybe just puked, "did you get sick?"
"No," he hid his face on her neck, breathing out, "opposite end."
"Ew," Bella lowered a hand down his back, keeping them close, rubbing up and down, "still nauseous?"
"Yeah," Luke pulled them apart and shuddered as he gulped down, "and look at the size of me, this is ridiculous."
Bell moved to rest against their car as well, letting out a low whistle at how bloated he was. He was shameless enough that he hadn't even bothered to do his fly back up, using the hem of his wifebeater to cover it up. Or, more likely, he couldn't do it back up.
"Wanna lie down in the back?" She suggested, tugging on his tanktop to peek at his stomach and giggling when Luke's cheeks turned crimson and he shoved her hand away, letting the fabric fall back down. His navel was all pink, it looked cute as hell, Bella thought.
"I'm gonna hurl if I lie in the back," Luke groaned, cheeks puffing with a soft burp, "I mean, I'm probably gonna hurl regardless, its all churning," he pressed the cold bottle to his forehead and Bella squinted at him, letting out a sigh and circling her husband, going through the glovebox in order to retrieve his sunglasses.
"Here, grandpa," she planted them onto his face, "better to stop the headache before it becomes a migraine."
"You'll call me grandpa but won't call me daddy, Bella?" He teased, causing Bella's cheeks to catch on fire, her heart to skip a beat.
"Don't be awful, we're in public," she groaned, swatting his stomach with a huff, "can we get back on the road?"
He nodded, thumping on his chest until he worked up a gross, wet burp, "yeah, let's."
"Keep drinking the Gatorade and take the tylenol, you'll be fine," Bella instructed, getting on her tip toes to slide his sunglasses further up his nose, "daddy."
Luke's pale face split with a smirk, his hand grabbing her waist, "I've changed my mind, let's crash a motel."
Bella giggled, butting his nose with hers, "you couldn't handle me in this shape," she patted the side of his upset stomach, grinning when he winced, "you can barely handle me at your best."
"You brat," Luke scoffed, grabbing her chin and kissing her, "I can always handle you, Bella."
