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bellysoupset · 2 days

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I would love to see Leo and Jonah sick at the same time ^^

maybe one of them has food posioning and the other has been hiding some sort of stomach bug for a while that happens to show it’s face then?

if not that’s fine but would really like to see this!

-🪼

(First time submitting an ask :D)

This was sent before you switched to the 🧋anon tag.

Also requested by @vdoggg!

Food Poisoning - Part 3.

A continuation of Leo's birthday fic. Read part 1 here. Part 2 here.

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Leo was lying on the bed, curled up and trying to make sense if he was about to puke again, when he heard the front door opening. JD lifted up her head from where she had been happily kneading his thigh and he breathed out.

“It’s just Jon,” Leo grumbled, not moving a muscle. Jonah hadn’t texted him, but Leo had enough sense to figure out who had eaten the missing cupcakes and why he was back earlier than usual.

As if to confirm his point, he heard hurried steps and then the noise of liquid hitting liquid and Jonah’s signature loud burp down the hall, as he probably burst into the guest bathroom. Leo sighed, forcing himself to sit up and waiting a second as the room spun around him.

He had originally thought it was a simple overeating bellyache, even when he puked again as they arrived home, chalking that up to the vestiges of nausea and carsickness. Halfway through the night though, while Jonah was peacefully asleep, Leo was wrecked by the cramps in his lower belly and had given up on that notion as the runs hit him.

Leo felt mildly guilty he hadn’t been awake enough that morning to warn Jonah this was definitely food poisoning, then maybe his fiancee wouldn’t have eaten the cupcakes.

Grabbing on the walls to keep himself upright, Leo made his slow track down the hall and sighed as he found exactly what he had predicted. Jonah curled up in front of the toilet, hugging the bowl with arms, his shoulders hitching with a retch.

“Shit,” Leo sighed, slumping against the door and taking a deep breath to steady himself, “I’m sorry, Jon.”

A burp answered him, followed by more liquid splashing and then a pitiful whimper. Leo slowly entered the bathroom, which was much too small for the two men, and sat down on the cold ground, planting a hand on his fiance’s back.

He didn’t have the energy to rub, but Jonah didn’t seem to mind. After a couple minutes the other man finished coughing and raised a shaky hand to flush the toilet, so Leo grabbed a bunch of toilet paper and passed it to him. He heard Jon blow his nose, then flush again and finally he turned to look at Leo.

Leo cringed, his boyfriend looked damn near gray and his lips were a terrible pale shade. He had sweat beading all over his face, gluing his curls down to his temples, “Jon, are you-”

“Threw up- threw up in front of a patient,” Jonah informed him, in a little strangled voice. He closed his eyes, as if wincing at the memory, “I really don’t feel good.”

“I know,” Leo said truthfully, scooting closer. He couldn’t emphasize enough how much he understood Jon’s plight, given that just walking the short distance between their bedroom and the guest bathroom had caused his nausea to increase all over again, “I’m really sorry, Jon.”

“Not your fault,” Jonah groaned, turning to the toilet once more and spitting in it, planting a hand on his chest and massaging a burp up, “fuck…”

Leo tipped his head back against the cold tiles of the bathroom, trying to ignore the angry gurgling of his belly and how he felt like acid was crawling up his throat. He took a measured breath, gulping down, then startled as he felt a hand touching him.

Jonah let out a small snort at his jerkiness and Leo frowned, taking a second to realize Jonah was checking his vitals. He was being gentle, but the slight pressure on his Adam's apple was not helping Leo gulp down the nausea, so he pulled back.

“What are you doing…?”

“You’re really, really pale,” Jon frowned at him, “when did you last drink water?”

“You’re the one throwing up,” Leo pointed out with a pout, bringing his knees up to his chest, “are you done?”

Jonah shrugged, not reassuring him in the least, “I’m fine,” he said, using the toilet to pull himself up and then promptly leaning over the sink with a deafening retch. Leo scoffed, dizzily rubbing Jon’s thigh since he didn’t feel like he could get up now that he had sat down.

‘You’re fine, uh?”

A wet burp, followed by Jonah letting out a groan and wrapping an arm around his stomach… Then whimpering, “oh no,” and bent on the middle, clutching his belly. Leo raised his eyebrows.

“Jon…?”

“You need- I need you to get out,” Jonah groaned through clenched teeth, “now.”

“What… Why?” Leo tried to pull himself up, only to find that he really couldn’t and Jonah whimpered again.

“Fuck, Leo, I’m gonna shit my pants, get out-”

“I’m trying!” The blonde exclaimed, darting out a hand and grabbing the bathroom sink, in order to pull himself up, since his fiancee was of no help at all. On the contrary, Jonah seemed to have tuned him out, too preoccupied with the sour state of his intestines.

“Leo…”

“I’m-I’m go-” Leo didn’t finish his sentence, because being upright so quickly caused his head to swim, so instead of leaving the bathroom, he clutched the granite of the sink for dear life, breathing through his mouth, ears ringing and black spots dancing in front of his eyes. The queasiness that had been on the back burner until then, jumped up tenfold and Leo couldn’t do anything as he leaned forward and brought up a gush of pale yellow vomit in the basin.

Vaguely he heard Jonah groan and then the noise of his boyfriend falling sit on the toilet, sickness overriding any modesty.

Leo coughed, gasping for air and still white knuckling the sink. It felt like his head was floating. He gagged once more as he heard the noise of Jonah’s intestines emptying out and his fiancee let out a humiliated whine.

“I’m sorry, this is so gross, I-” Jonah all but whimpered, a sound so alien in his voice that it made Leo snap slightly back in reality.

He shook his head, opening the tap and washing away the vomit, before washing his mouth and forcing up a small burp. Leo hung over the sink, unsure if his belly was done with him.

“Jon?” he called after a minute, splashing some water on his face to try to get rid of the woozy sensation that he was about to pass out.

A cough answered him and Leo turned to look at his boyfriend, then groaned in sympathy. Jonah had grabbed the bin and planted it on his lap, as his own stomach joined his body’s attempt at purging.

“Aww angel,” Leo stumbled slightly forward, planting a hand on Jonah’s shoulder and squeezing his nape, “get it up, worst is almost over…”

Jonah’s whole body lurched with a big belch, that brought up another large wave of vomit inside their bathroom bin. Leo brought up a fist to his mouth and muffled a gag, turning his face away. He wasn’t one to get sympathy sick, but this was a gruesome sight when his stomach was already so upset.

He looked up at the ceiling, waiting until Jonah stopped heaving, then dared to glance down as the other man rasped out, “I’m done… I think I’m done…”

“Let me take this,” Leo took a forceful breath and retrieved the bin from Jonah’s hand, planting it on top of the sink and tying the trashbag, “do you need help…?”

“I’d rather die,” Jonah scoffed, wrapping both arms around his stomach and rocking softly, “bloody hell, Leo, it was just… Just two cupcakes, how the hell-”

“I don’t know,” Leo rubbed his face, frustrated, then grabbed the trashbag and fortified himself for the journey of getting out of the bathroom so Jon could get up and shower, “I’m going… I’m gonna give you some privacy. But I’m gonna leave the door open, okay?”

Not that he really could do anything in case Jonah slipped and fell in the shower, considering Leo was barely holding his own weight up. Jon was graceful enough not to mention it, though Leo wasn’t sure his boyfriend was even listening. Instead he was taking little rapid breaths, a sickly little burp sneaking up on him.

“Babe?”

“Bin-” Jonah’s voice was thick with nausea, “Leo- Gimme-”

Leo quickly pulled the tied trashbag out of the bin and passed the empty bucket back to Jonah, thankful that it wasn’t a hollowed out metal bucket like others they had in the house. Jon leaned over it immediately, barely retching before liquid sprayed from his mouth, then his back arched with a more violent heave.

“Jesus,” Leo whispered, starting to panic. This was quite violent and he hated that he couldn’t help as much as he wanted to. His legs were shaking and his own tummy was squeezing and cramping, intestines building a riot inside of him. Leo ignored the horrible sensation of his body revolting against him, in order to plant a shaky hand on Jonah’s shoulder and keep him from falling off the toilet.

After what felt like an eternity, Jonah planted the bin on the ground and his elbows on his knees, groaning, “fuck…”

Leo squeezed his shoulder, “I’m- Uhm- Are you-you done…?”

Jon’s head snapped up and he frowned at Leo’s sluggish sentences. Even exhausted and wrung dry, he hadn’t been losing liquids for as long as the other man had and was more alert.

“Leo, sit down,” he bossed and Leo shook his head, sweat breaking on his forehead and gluing his shirt down.

“Can’t- Don’t feel well…” He forced the words out, “are you okay…?”

“I’m fine,” Jonah stressed, “please, can you just sit down for a minute? I just need to shower-”

Leo nodded, then stumbled back and sat on the threshold between the bathroom and the hallway, whole body going down as if he was a broken doll. Jonah felt the start of panic prickling him, running his options through his mind.

Despite wanting to stay under the hot water for the rest of the day, Jon forced himself to keep the shower to only a minute, wrapping a towel around his hip and ignoring the way his belly was grumbling and whining all over again. He couldn’t even understand how he wasn’t empty yet.

Leo was in the exact same spot, he hadn't moved a muscle. Jonah crouched down, touching his fiance’s pale, slack face and hating the way he could feel Leo’s rapid heart beat.

“You’ve been puking since yesterday, this isn’t good,” Jon sighed, patting Leo’s cheeks, “baby, open your eyes.”

“Gon’besick,” Leo groaned, instead of obeying and Jonah jerked back just in time to avoid getting his arm coated in vomit, as Leo’s head hung and bright yellow bile splashed on his shirt.

Jonah groaned, sympathy sickness making his stomach squeeze and he didn’t have it in him to fight it, he turned his head and gagged. It took forever for his stomach to settle and he could feel Leo was still dry heaving, even without looking.

“We need help,” Jonah said, forcing himself to look at the mess and deciding there was no way he could handle this alone, when his body was hellbent on getting ready of any fluid he had ever consumed.

Leo let out a little whimper as an answer and Jonah made up his mind.

—------------

“Christ,” Luke’s voice was much too loud in their quiet apartment and Jon jerked from the small nap he was taking in the middle of the hallway. He had managed to strip Leo out of his ruined shirt and changed into boxers himself instead of only a towel, but that was it. Moving Leo had been out of the question.

“Leo first,” Jonah opened his eyes, his head was pounding from all the heaving and coughing, “I think he needs a hospital…”

Lucas didn’t argue, crouching down in front of them and touching Leo’s cheeks, patting them softly, “Leo. Leo, hey-” he shook him a little harder, until the blonde let out a groan and opened his eyes. His face immediately twisted into a frown, the cramps hitting him now that he was awake.

“Luke…?” Leo groaned, curling up as much as he could, but Lucas was having none of it. He forced the other man to open up and threw an arm around his neck.

“C’mon,” Luke’s voice came out strained as he managed to pull Leo up on his feet, “couch with you. You need to drink something.”

“Gonna… Gonna go right through-” Leo groaned, his head lolling and he pressed his nose to Luke’s neck, “won’tssstay down- Where’s Jon?”

“He’s fine,” Lucas managed to plant Leo on the couch, then grabbed some cushions and planted them under Leo’s legs, “I brought stuff.”

“What did you bring…?” Jonah tried to get up from the hallway, only to find that he was much weaker than he thought. His face burned with embarrassment as he too had to be hugged by Luke and pulled up.

“Everything the drugstore would sell me without a prescription,” Luke huffed, planting Jonah in the opposite couch to Leo’s and then heading to the door in order to retrieve his grocery bag. He put it down on the coffee table, then removed a gatorade bottle, and five different medicine bottles.

“Here,” Luke handed Jonah two different pills and a bottle of gatorade, “try holding these down.”

“Where’s JD?” Leo whispered from the other couch. He had curled up as much as he could and Jonah winced at the sight of him, throwing Lucas a panicked glance. He didn’t like at all the shade of white Leo had reached.

“What?” Luke asked, walking closer. For Leo he opened the gatorade bottle and stuck a straw inside of it.

The blonde made a face as the straw was pressed to his lips, trying to move away, “she must be starving…”

“I’ll look for JD in a minute,” Lucas ushered him closer, “just one sip, Leo. If you can’t then we’re gonna go to the hospital.”

The vague threat worked, because Leo finally took a gulp. Jonah watched him anxiously, already so familiar with the way his boyfriend worked that he fully expected to see the drink come up within seconds. When that didn’t happen, he allowed himself to fully collapse against the couch’s cushions.

“How long has this been going on?” Lucas’ voice was distant, followed by a meow and then his footsteps. JD meowing louder. Jonah turned his head, fighting valiantly the urge to go to sleep and scoffed as he saw Luke clutching JD in his hands.

“Don’t squeeze her like that,” he glared at the other man, while from the opposite couch Leo let out a pained groan.

“Luke-” It was a whimper, and then Lucas dropped JD and lurched just in time to catch the mouthful of gatorade in the crumpled groceries paperbag. Jonah squeezed his eyes to avoid looking at the mess, feeling even worse that he was so useless.

His own stomach churned uneasily and Jonah rolled on his side, focusing on breathing in and out and not on how awful he felt that he couldn’t be of any comfort or help as Leo continued to dry heave.

“Fuck,” Lucas said and Jonah dared to open his eyes. Leo had fallen against their friend, white as a corpse, and not even fighting it as Luke wiped his lips with his thumb, puke be damned.

“Hospital,” Jonah bossed, even dizzy as he was, “take him.”

“Yeah,” Luke nodded, carefully pushing Leo against the couch’s back, “Bella is coming over, she just stopped to buy us food. We’ll wait for her.”

“Nooo-” Jonah shook his head, then his stomach clenched violently and he gagged, but all that fell on the floor was a clear line of spit, “don’t-”

“I’m not leaving you alone,” Lucas said harshly, crossing the room and forcing Jonah to sit up correctly, then grabbing a bucket and pushing it on his lap, “and Leo’s not gonna die in the fifteen minutes it’ll take her to get here. Chill.”

“Can’t…” Jonah mumbled miserably, too tired to hide how raw he felt, when Leo was this sick. He felt like crying and probably would have, if he wasn’t so dehydrated, “can’t chill.”

Luke’s frown softened up, replaced by all concern and sympathy and he crouched down in front of Jonah, grabbing the gatorade bottle once more, ‘yeah, I know, man. But I’m looking out for both of you. You trust me?”

Jon hesitated, then nodded, refusing to meet Luke’s eyes and the other man pushed the cold bottle in his hand, “take another sip. Bell is nearly here, I’m going to pack Leo a bag.”

True to what Luke had said, not more than ten minutes later, Bella entered the apartment. She was carrying another set of groceries and in true pragmatic fashion didn’t spare them even a look, heading straight to the kitchen to empty their fridge of the possibly tainted food and repack it.

“Okay,” Luke walked back to Leo, with a backpack around his shoulder, “let’s go, Leo.”

“Jonah…” Leo mumbled dizzily, burying his face in Luke’s chest, “Jon’s sick too-”

“I know, but he’s in better shape than you,” Luke grunted, pulling Leo up and stumbling a little, “Bell will stay here to keep him company.”

“JD-”

“She’s fine,” Bella said softly, rushing ahead to open the door for them and picking up the cat when she tried to sneak past her legs. The woman held up the kitten so Leo could see it and he blinked blearily, clearly feeling too awful to string things together.

“She’s hungry…”

“I’ll feed her,” Bella vowed and Luke huffed, tightening up his hold on Leo as the blonde started to slip down.

“Everything is fine here, we’re gonna be back in no time,” Luke promised, dragging him away. Finally they were alone, Jonah and Bella, and Jon let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He curled up even more on the couch and almost smiled when JD jumped from Bell’s arms to come pester him.

“That’s some food poisoning,” Bell wrinkled her nose, walking closer, “how you holding up, Jon?”

“Not well,” Jonah leaned his head against the couch’s arm. He didn’t say it out loud, but he felt an immense relief at knowing Leo was on his way to getting fluids. He didn’t think he needed to say anything to Bell, she always seemed to just know.

“Did you throw up the meds?”

“Nope,” he planted a hand on his unsettled, bloated stomach, “but I might.”

“Well, try not to,” Bella rolled her eyes, then dangled her fingers for JD, “pspspsps, let’s have dinner, poor thing. You must be starving.”

Jonah stayed quiet as he heard Bella move around in the kitchen, serving JD her food and sorting through the mess. He continued to sip on his gatorade, only to find that had been a mistake when a sharp burp brought up a splash of acidic liquid to his throat.

“Fuck me,” Jon groaned, curling up and trying to massage the burps out of his belly before he ended up wasting all the hard work to keep down his meds.

“Don’t do that,” Bella circled the coffee table, holding a tall mug filled with coffee for herself. She unceremoniously pushed his leg to the side so they could share the couch and leaned in, slapping Jonah’s hand away from his belly, “let me.”

“Bella…” Jonah’s face burned with embarrassment, which got even worse when she pressed her fingers against his sloshy, bloated belly and it immediately caused a sick burp to erupt.

Bell rolled her eyes, smirking at him, “relax, I promise I’m not gonna tell anyone.”

Jon scoffed, cupping his mouth and belching again, his throat aching with the force behind it, “please.”

“Maybe just Leo,” Bella grinned, sliding her hand over the curve of his sick belly and chuckling when Jonah let out a groan at her threat.

#mywriting #sickfic #emetophilia #emeto #leo wagner #jonah banks #food poisoning #tummy ache #bellyache #belly rubs #🧋anon

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danafeelingsick · 2 days

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he's so full of birthday cake and grape juice

i'm feeling generous, so you guys will get this a day early. also not to be a freak but i gave him freckles

so, in continuing on that tummy rub minigame idea: i would love if characters had their favorite food and speciality dishes, and there is something like a count of how many they've eaten. how much is in their tummy now, and then, as they puke you get the countdown of how many dishes worth they are spewing. i don't know why by quantifying their tummy contents like this just gets me going. specially diluc! i feel like this man would have zero self-restraint. twindles his fingers and goes don't mind if I do, then eats and eats and until, oh no.

so, kaeya next? and what should i make him eat? 👀

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writing-whump · 2 days

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Would loveeee to see hector super sick and feverish with a stomach bug where all he wants is to be comforted by Isaiah/Arnie/both- just love his softer side- pretty sure he’s a softie deep down 🤭

Hey nonny! Thank you for the request!! Found a good way to insert it. This will have a part 2 for another request hehe.

Something serious

Hector burst through the door, heading straight for the kitchen without a word of greeting.

Arnie was not taking it personally, but he was curious about what kind of hunger spree made Hector so desperate.

He got up from the couch to check. "Did you skip lunch or-?

Except Hector wasn't riding their fridge. He was braced over the kitchen sink and retching loudly.

"Oi. Okay," Arnie said with a wince as a huge gush of puke hit the bottom of the granite. "What happened to you?"

"Ate-uuurp-too fast." Hector burped up another mouthful before spitting and letting the faucet run over the mess.

"Really? Wasn't something off about the food?" Hector's speed and capacity were way too impressive for this to happen easily.

Hector swiped his wrist over his mouth, sweaty all over.

Arnie tore off a handful of kitchen towels and handed it to him.

Hector took it gratefully, mopping his face and mouth. "I was so hungry at lunch that my stomach hurt. Must have eaten too quick, cause I got queasy on the way." Hector put a hand on his belly as it whined loudly. For puking just a minute ago, his stomach looked distended, as if he was still full.

"Sure it was hunger? Maybe you were getting down with something and ate lunch on top," Arnie sighed, grabbing Hector by the elbow to steer him towards the living room. "How many times do I have to say that you shouldn't eat, when your stomach is hurting?"

Hector was feeling crappy enough to follow Arnie's guidance, flopping down on the couch and curling his hands protectively around his middle. "Ugh. Thought it would help."

Arnie rolled his eyes. "It's always the same with you—no restraint. Listening to your body's signals could have spared you from all this puking."

Hector huffed. "Stop lecturing, snotnose, and get me some water."

Arnie stuck his tongue at him, but obeyed, getting some cold water from the kitchen, checking if the sink was clean on the way.

Hector gulped down the water greedily, even as Arnie patted his hand. "Slow down, you'll make yourself sick again."

To be fair, Hector tried to slow the tempo before it picked up again. Arnie sat down next to him with a grimace. No helping that.

"You want to watch something and take it easy?" Arnie asked, putting the back of his hand to Hector's forehead. He was a little warm. "I think you should rest. Looks like a flu to me."

Hector, feeling evidently better, swatted his hand away. "And whose fault is that? You're the only flu spreader around. Damn human germs."

Arnie gave him another eye roll. "Your immunity needs some work then, if you catch things that I don't even have symptoms for."

Arnie put on a rerun of Big Bang Theory, which was usually so foreign and boring to Hector that it put him to sleep. And he was right, his older brother was snoring away, head lolling to the armrest, in a few minutes.

After two episodes, Hector stirred though, grimacing with a moan.

"You want a blanket?" Arnie asked quietly as Hector curled into himself, although he could see some more sweat beading on his neck.

"Nah. Think I'm just going to sleep this off in the bed," Hector said, not bothering to muffle a burp as he got up clumsily. His hand shot up to cradle the top of his belly like it was about to fall open.

"You sure you didn't eat something spicy at lunch?" Arnie said, watching him stumble out with another burp. "You get disgusting like that every time."

Hector gave him an angry glare. "I do not. I can handle spicy food."

Arnie snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Tell that to someone who doesn't have to live with you and hear all the consequences."

Hector grunted something crude on his way, which caused Arnie to chuckle.

It wouldn't be unusual in the slightest if he did eat something spicy and then played it off as a flu just to not feel embarrassed.

It would be fine. Hector was a grumpy patient, even if it was the flu, but as long as he stopped eating and took a day off, he would be fine.

Wolves were so senstive to pain. Just a bit of discomfort, and they were all dramatic and moaning. Hector more than most. Physical injuries he got rid of with his shadow, so any sickness, cold, or flu that wouldn't heal had him up in arms and whiny. Arnie had gotten used to not taking it too seriously.

Arnie watched a few more episodes, checking his phone and dozed off on the couch himself.

He went to check on Hector, but he looked peacefully asleep in the bed.

Arnie prepared him a glass of water and a bucket, just in case. Leaving the door open and satisfied with his precautions, he went to his own room, catching the sleeping wave before it was worse off.

...

Arnie woke up to the harsh sounds of throaty retches. Scrambling up a little slow from sleep, he braced himself on the doorframe in Hector's room, switching the small bedside table lamp on.

Hector didn't even get up, hunched over the bed and heaving over the bucket.

What did, however, get up was his shadow. It was sprawling across the wall behind the bed and wiggling uneasily across the floor.

Arnie stepped around it gingerly. Hector's shadow wouldn't hurt him, he knew, but it was a scary big thing to crawl around his feet.

Despite Hector's best efforts, the bucket was basically empty, only spits of yellow bile inside.

Arnie sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed sleepily. Always so dramatic with Hector.

"Hex, you got nothing inside you, you are empty," he said, patting his back.

"Doesn't-doesn't feel like it-" Hector coughed between heaves.

He moaned, clutching the side of his belly as he lay back down, breathing harshly. "That freaking hurt."

"Flu it is," Arnie said with a yawn. "You are heaving even when running on empty."

"Then why the hell does it hurt?" Hector complained, sniffling. Arnie admonished himself for not bringing some more paper towels, too.

"It's normal to get cramps during the flu-"

"No, not crampy" Hector protested through gritted teeth. "It fucking hurts. And the pain travels."

Arnie frowned. "Travels? What?"

"The spot," Hector said, clutching at the right side of his stomach. It was still bloated, even though he had nothing to vomit. Arnie's eyebrows scrunched even more. This was starting to get weird.

"It was in the middle and now it's freaking here and it feels like someone stabbed me," Hector said angrily, just a breath away from whining. His shadow made an aggressive, wavy motion above their heads.

Arnie rubbed at his eyes, much more alert now. "So to sum it up - you felt sick during lunch, thought it was hunger, threw up at home and you were in pain since then?"

"I - I felt kind of off yesterday too, but like...just sluggish? Thought I was tired." Hector rolled onto his back, hands sliding lower on his right side.

Arnie leaned in closer. "Show me." He gently pried Hector's hands away, lifting up his shirt. His stomach was still so blown up, but he could see nothing on the spot. It seemed too specific for a place though, lower right abdomen...he pushed his hands around, trying to find some kind of physical proof, a bump or swell. Hector didn't protest his poking, eyes closed and pinched.

Arnie was the one with any basic knowledge of human anatomy and complications, since Hector always insisted that were human weaknesses that had nothing to do with him.

Arnie retracted his hands with a sigh, considering writing it off as a cramp lasting too long, when Hector whimpered. Like a real little whimper. He locked his limbs together, arms around his stomach again, tears leaking out. His shadow all but flooded the damn room, swinging angrily from one side to the other at Hector's pain.

"What, what did I do?" Arnie asked in panic, falling to his knees on the floor and taking Hector's forearm in both hands. "Hex? Hex, what-"

Hector twitched under his hands, twisting his face into the sheets as a trickle of bile came out of the corner of his mouth.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry!" Arnie said, pressing his forehead to Hector's as his older brother rode the pain out.

Hector said nothing, another little whimper coming up.

Arnie got up as quickly as he could to grab his phone. He dialed up the ambulance and called as he returned, not wanting to leave Hector alone.

"Noooo, no hospital," Hector whined pitifully.

"Yes, we have to," Arnie said in a strangled noise, putting his free hand on Hector's shoulder. "Please. Trust me. This is something serious."

With great effort, Hector pulled a hand away from his stomach and clutched Arnie's forearm, breathing raggedly as they both waited for the medics.

#sickfic #emeto #vomting #fever #hurt/comfort #bromance #brothers #werewolf wip #my writing #Hector

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sickkkkies · 2 days

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Matt, The Haunting of Connecticut (movie)

#puke.tv show #emeto tw #emeto #tv show emeto #male emeto #tv show puke

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iwritesickfic · 18 hours

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Where I Need to Be - part 2

it's been a while since I put out part 1, but here's the conclusion! hope you enjoy :)

While the day has been miserable, Theo’s pretty sure he’s over the hump of whatever illness he has. He hasn’t thrown up since this morning, and his fever’s been under control (mostly) since he’s been able to hold down ibuprofen and water. He’s still got a pounding headache, and his stomach is puffy and tender, but all in all, it’s not as bad as it could be. And he knows how bad it could be.

He’s been in and out of sleep the last few hours, and he’s woken up most recently to a hushed phone conversation happening on the other side of the bedroom door. He’s only getting bits and pieces-

“Kelly, I told you…sick, that’s why…fever…Ok fine…One hour…Ok. Bye.”

Then the door opens, and Seamus is walking in. His smile is strained, but it’s there.

“Hey, love. How are we?” he asks, same gentle voice as always. It’s so different than the one he was using on the phone just a moment ago.

“Not bad,” he says, and for once he's telling the truth. Seamus sits down the edge of the bed, laying his hand on Theo’s forehead.

“You still feel pretty cool. Not cool, but not…not too hot,” he says, and runs his thumb back and forth over his sweat slick skin. They sit in silence for a while before Seamus speaks again. “So. I’m going to ask you something but I need you to be really, really honest. Ok?”

Theo nods. This will have to do with the phone call. Kelly is the artist whose album he’s working on. And who deeply, deeply dislikes Theo. Needless to say, she was not pleased to find out Seamus was missing a day of work to be with Theo, fever of 104 or not.

“There’s a dinner tonight with some people from the label, and Kelly- they want me to go.” There’s an expression on his face that Theo can only describe as shame. It makes sense he’d feel that way, but Theo doesn’t hold it against him. Work is work, they both know that, and some part of Theo was waiting for this conversation to come. And he can't even fully focus because his head is throbbing.

“Ok,” he says, voice shaky. “What did you tell them?”

“I told them I’d have to see about it but it’d only be there for an hour, tops. So be honest, if I was gone for two hours, do you think you’d be ok? Do you feel like it’s getting worse?”

“How big of a deal is it? Contract, or?” He already knows it’s a very big deal or Seamus wouldn’t be asking, but his answer will pretty much depend on it.

“That’s not…” He bites his lip. “It’s not contracted, but if they don’t like what they see…” He trails off before shaking his head. “It’s ok either way. If I stay or go. Just be honest.”

Honestly, he doesn’t want Seamus to leave. Not at all. That said, he doesn’t feel sick enough to justify making him stay. If sleeps for the next few hours, which is likely, there’d be no point in making Seamus stay home.

“Go. I’ll be fine.” A wave of relief seems to wash over Seamus, though the look of guilt doesn’t totally leave.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine for a couple hours.”

“Ok. Two hours. Tops.”

He’s asleep before Seamus even walks out the door. But when he wakes up, he realizes that this virus is far from done with him.

His whole body is shaking, sweat pouring off him, his clothes plastered to his skin. His stomach is in knots, and when he opens his mouth to take a gasping breath he immediately heaves up a mouthful of bile. He’s so hot. He’s never been so hot in his life. His chest is tight with it, his breath is shallow.

He knows he needs to get to the bathroom, but the minute he pushes himself up with trembling arms, the world spins, and he vomits again. God, his stomach. He moans and forces himself out of bed, and quickly finds he’s way too weak and dizzy to stand. He nearly faints before catching himself on the bedframe. Somehow, he finds his way to the bathroom and falls hard to his knees before leaning over the toilet and heaving again.

The cold of the tile almost hurts his fevered skin. It feels raw, just like his throat. His chin is sticky with drying vomit, and he peels off his shirt. When his hand goes to touch his cramping middle he can't hold back the whimper that escapes. It's so tender - the touch feels like a stab. He also can feel that he’s very, very bloated. The normally concave expanse of his abs is jutting out from his hips, puffy and aching. The waistband of his shorts presses uncomfortably into the swell, and combined with the pressure of his touch, it makes him retch.

In between heaves he can’t hold his head up, so he slumps against the toilet bowl, forehead on the cold porcelain rim.

Sweat drips from the tip of his nose on the floor below him. His breath is gasping in and out, and he's not sure whether he's shaking with fever or sheer exertion.

“Seamus!” He calls as loudly as his voice will let him, which isn’t very loud at all. It's cracked and thin. In that moment he remembers Seamus isn’t here. The thought wrenches a sob from him.

God, he’s so pathetic. A quivering mess, crying for his boyfriend, vomit on his chin. There are a few minutes of respite where he just sits there trying to catch his breath, chest jumping up and down, praying for relief from the fever and the throbbing in his skull. Praying it’s almost… What time is it? What time did Seamus leave?

Before he can think much harder on it, he’s vomiting again. There's only bile now, nothing else is left in his stomach. But once the bile is gone, it doesn’t stop. It’s wringing him out. He’s dry heaving until he’s too weak to. He’s still dripping sweat. It burns his eyes, stings his chapped lips.

He needs to get his phone. He needs to call Seamus. It has to have been two hours by now - it feels like he’s been in this bathroom for 5. But it can’t have been, because Seamus would be back.

The bedroom. His phone is in the bedroom.

He’s no stranger to being this sick, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

He stumbles back down the hall, having to stop and lean against the wall every few steps when his lightheadedness is too much to handle.

He gets the phone. His hands are shaking so badly he almost drops it. He taps Seamus's perfect, smiling photo. Immediately, he hears his voicemail message - "Hey, it's Seamus. I don't really check my voicemail so just shoot me a text! Thanks." There's a dial tone, and Theo hangs up. He calls again. The phone is sticking to the side of his face. Same thing.

This is a nightmare. It has to be. He looks at the time. It's after 10, Seamus should've been home by 8.

Theo is slumped on the floor, back against the wall, just trying to breathe evenly enough to avoid throwing up any more than he already has. The last bout of vomiting had quelled the nausea slightly, but it's back, despite him still not having anything in his stomach to purge. His mouth is dry and sour but the thought of even rinsing it out makes his stomach churn.

He opens his texts. It takes a long time to type a message. It's riddled with typos but his hands are shaking too badly to do any better. It's something along the lines of "where are you? i need you". Normally he wouldn't be so direct, but he's desperate.

Then the world is spinning, spinning, spinning. And then he’s asleep.

Every extra minute Seamus is sitting at this table he's nervous. But, he reminds himself for the thousandth time, Theo would've called if something was wrong. He's probably asleep. His phone has been silent all night, tucked in the pocket of his coat where it hangs from the back of his chair. He's glanced at it a few times, but nothing's come through.

Still, he promised Theo two hours. It's been four. And even if he leaves now, it'll be four and a half.

He's glad he came though. As much as it would've gone just fine without him, he has way more experience dealing with execs than Kelly does. Zeke even flew in from New York. The meeting started at a restaurant in the city and migrated to some random pub a few doors down after the execs were on their way.

At about 11 he goes to the bathroom and grabs his phone as an afterthought. There are absolutely no notifications, which seems strange.

Upon closer examination, he sees it's set to "do not disturb." He definitely did not set it to "do not disturb." He stops in the doorway of the bathroom as he sees the notifications flood in. 6 missed calls. Five unread texts. All from Theo. He has to stop himself from sprinting back to get his coat. He's immediately in panic mode.

Kelly, Zeke and a few other acquaintances from the label look up from their conversation.

"Whoa, what's up?" Zeke asks as Seamus throws on his coat with shaking hands.

"I just - It's an emergency," he manages to say. Zeke furrows his eyebrows but doesn't protest. Kelly huffs.

"Seamus, please. He can take care of himself," she says, and he freezes in place. Zeke looks very confused now.

"Theo?" Zeke interjects, but Seamus doesn't bother responding.

"I told him I'd be home at 8 and it's 11 and he's been trying to call me since 10. I don't know why my phone…" He trails off. He can barely think straight. Kelly crosses her arms and looks at Zeke, whose lips are pressed into a line. "What?"

"Well, we agreed it'd be best if there weren't any distractions," Kelly says. Seamus isn't someone who ever really gets angry, per se, but he's angry right now. Furious. But everyone is staring at him now, and it'll only look unprofessional if he loses his shit. He turns his gaze to Zeke, who looks extremely guilty.

"I didn't know something was wrong, I-" He starts and Seamus clenches his jaw. He starts to stammer out a reply before realizing that every minute he spends here is one minute he's wasting.

"I'll see you guys Monday," he says, trying to keep his voice as even as possible, ignoring the shouts of his name as he leaves.

He tries to call Theo. It rings, but there's no answer. He calls again. Still nothing. He's going about 20 over the speed limit, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. When he walks into the house he doesn't even bother taking off his coat or shoes.

"Theo?" He calls. No answer. He knows logically that Theo's not dead, but the panic in his chest does not seem to know that.

He stops in the doorway of the bedroom. Theo's on the floor, half curled up, shaking like a leaf. Seamus is frozen for a moment before he rushes to him.

Theo's skin is hot - so ungodly fucking hot - and so incredibly pale. Seamus shakes his shoulder lightly, and though Theo moans softly, he doesn't open his eyes.

"Teddy?" Seamus asks, running his hand up and down Theo's arm. Theo's eyelids flutter, and another small sound of pain escapes his chapped lips. Seamus taps his cheek gently. "Teddy, baby."

Theo's eyes finally open, only halfway but enough for Seamus to know he's conscious. When his gaze lands on Seamus's face he lets out a sobbing breath.

"Shh, you're ok," Seamus murmurs, trying to keep his voice steady. He lifts Theo so he's sitting upright, almost all his weight on Seamus. His forehead rests on Seamus's shoulder, his breathing shallow and labored through sobs. He smells like vomit and sweat, and his hands are immediately clinging to Seamus's shirt. "I’m gonna lift you up, alright?"

Theo doesn't reply, but Seamus wasn't necessarily asking for permission.

He maneuvers Theo's limp body so he can pick him up, and tries to ignore the spike of panic when all of his body is pressed against him. He's on fire, trembling, letting out little whimpers of pain at every movement. Theo doesn’t cry like this. Ever. And it’s making Seamus very nervous.

He's glad he works out enough to squat 250, because Theo is only a little over half that. He doesn't bother trying to get his shorts off before placing him in the bathtub, his long legs bent in the small space. Seamus turns on the water and rummages to find the thermometer.

Theo doesn't even make a sound as the cold water hits his skin, and doesn't even seem to notice when Seamus slips the thermometer under his tongue. As the water rises and he waits for the thermometer to do its job, the guilt really starts to set in.

He should've been here. Instead, he was out at a bar, drinking and laughing and assuming everything was fine. He should have noticed his phone was fucked up, he should've left when he said he would. He doesn't know how bad the fever is exactly, but he would wager a guess that it's really fucking bad. Odds are all the vomiting made him dehydrated, which made his fever worse, which made the nausea worse, and around and around until they got here.

He takes one of Theo's limp hands, and with the other, calls Zeke. It's only a ring or two before he picks up.

"What's up?" He asks, and Seamus suddenly feels like he might cry.

"I think I need to take him to A&E." His voice is shaking.

"The-" He cuts Zeke off before he can finish.

"The ER."

"Ok, ok. Uh…" Zeke trails off, clearly flustered. The background noise of the bar softens and a door closes. Seamus cuts in again.

"Do we have anyone here who could come give an IV?" In New York, Theo has people who'll come to wherever he is and give him the basics without having to go to the actual hospital, but Seamus has no idea what's at their disposal in Ireland. He kicks himself for not thinking to find out before now.

"Uh, I can check. I'll call around. Maybe. Is he-"

"I might be able to get it- get the fever down, but he's really dehydrated, so…" Seamus trails off. "You have people here, right?"

"I mean, yeah. In theory. It's just-"

"Just find out what's faster. I can drive him to A&- the ER, or someone can come here. Either way, just find out what's quicker, ok?"

"Ok. I'll call you back in a few, just hang tight." He doesn't hang up just yet. "And I'm sorry, I never would've let Kelly have your phone if I knew what was going on."

"Well she shouldn't have my phone anyway."

"Right."

"Yeah. Just call me back when you know, ok?"

"Ok, hang tight."

The line goes dead and Seamus checks his watch before taking the thermometer out of Theo's mouth. 40.5. He stares at the reading for longer than he needs to, feeling the panic in his chest spike.

Theo’s eyelids are fluttering now, and the hand Seamus is holding tightens around his.

“Oh my God…” Theo breathes out, his voice ragged and thin. “Fuck.”

“You’re ok, you’re ok,” Seamus says, and dips his hand in the cool water before laying it on Theo’s forehead. A towel or washcloth would work better, but he can’t make himself move from this spot.

“Shay, I…” he murmurs, before trailing off, “I had the worst nightmare.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he says back gently, wiping Theo’s chin. It’s taking so much effort to maintain this facade of calm, but he knows if he starts to freak out, it’ll only make things worse.

“I…In my dream…I kept calling you and calling you,” he mumbles, and Seamus is immediately sick to his stomach with guilt. “But you wouldn’t answer. And I was alone.”

It takes everything in him to speak around the lump in his throat.

"I'm here now," is all he manages to choke out. He can't bring himself to lie outright. He'll need to come clean eventually, but not now when Theo's still half delirious. "You've had your appendix out, right?"

Theo nods.

"Burst. In college.” Despite the cold water, Theo doesn't seem to be getting any cooler. He's not even shivering.

He's gathering Theo's hair into a little bun when Zeke calls him back.

“What did they say?” He asks, and Zeke sighs.

“They have people in Dublin, but they wouldn't be able to make it to you until tomorrow morning. I could call you a car but I think it'd just be faster for you to drive him in. If you feel like that's what he needs.”

It's a horrible drive. Then a horrible night.

When they drive home the next morning, Theo's still running a fever, but it's not as bad as it was. The insides of his arms and the backs of his hands are bruised - he was so dehydrated they had to jab him about ten times to find a vein for the IV.

He's able to walk inside from the car, which is a major improvement, but he collapses on the couch as soon as he walks in.

“I'm gonna make some tea, alright?” Seamus asks, carefully stroking some of his hair back from his face. Theo just nods, closing his eyes.

As he makes the tea, he knows he needs to tell him. Not today. No, he’ll wait, he thinks, and tries to convince himself it's for Theo’s benefit. He doesn't quite manage.

#my writing #whump #sickfic #illness kink #oc theo #oc seamus #fever #emeto

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twistcmyk · 6 months

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HELP

#emeto

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periwinkleowski · 18 days

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when the slender sickness is sicknessing

#i like it when he's miserable =w= ehueh... cute #plus his expressions are fun #tw emetophobia #emetophobia #emeto #emeto tw #fanart #marble hornets #tim wright #tw puke

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soppymilkgin · 4 months

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⚠️ emeto

#no decapitation this time #or is there 😳#switching up the vibe from my last art post hehe #gintama #sakata gintoki #emeto #art tag

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figurecollection · 9 months

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OMGkawaiiAngel Nendoroid by Good Smile Company, from Needy Streamer Overload

#omgkawaiiangel #kangel #k angel #emeto #emetophobia #needy streamer overload #nso #needy girl overdose #anime figure #anime figures #anime #figure #figures #figurine #figurines

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writing-whump · 19 hours

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Hey! I'm new around Tumblr and since the first day I found your blog.. I'm literally obsessed with your fictions!! Love the fictions, characters... I think you're one of the bests 💕💕Especially, I love Hector and Isiah, bromanceee!💖

Umm, when you have time and done with the fics on your list, would you consider a new one about Hector who's reeeally sick with high fever (and some other symptoms which is totally up to your imagination) and Isiah taking care of him?? I'd really love to read that!

♡Thank you with sharing these characters and world with us!

Hello nonny and welcome! That's so sweet of you to say, thank you so much🥰💕 This really fit as continuation for sick feverish Hector after his appendicitis operation, so here you go 😊

Appendicitis Aftermath

Arnie was biting his nails. Isaiah was seriously considering if he shouldn't point it out, because it was climbing up his fried nerves.

Arnie sat in the backseat, without a seat belt so he could hover in the middle between Isaiah behind the wheel and Hector.

One would say Isaiah would be used to being called to a crisis with his brothers in the middle of the night by now. However, it didn't get easier with practice.

Arnie was nearly in tears, mumbling about Hector, an operation, and an unruly shadow, which sent Isaiah into a panic. Turned rather anticlimactic when he arrived at the hospital.

Hector had appendicitis. The operation was routine, small, nothing serious. They caught it on time. Except the shadow was a problem. Isaiah was all ready to roll it down for his brother, when the medics came with the idea they could just drug him up with heavy stuff.

Hector was a wolf, meaning he couldn't heal an inflammation, infection, or sickness, but if they took the appendix out, his shadow would be able to heal the wound afterward. He didn't have to stay in the hospital; they even allowed them to take him home.

They needed only to wait for his shadow to recover.

Until then, Hector was stitched up and with bandages over the wound, hurting like any mortal would.

Another quiet crack as Arnie bit into the nail on his forefinger, fidgeting on Isaiah's right.

Hector was pale, holding himself rigidly in the seat. His eyes were closed, but he took those carefully measured breaths that told Isaiah he wasn't asleep.

The car jostled over a bump and Hector hissed quietly, jerking his head.

"Sorry about that. Almost home, buddy," Isaiah said, planting his hand on Hector's leg for a second to reassure him. Hector said nothing, curling onto himself.

"You'll be fine—humans undergo these operations every day and recover well." Arnie leaned in closer, a ball of nervous energy. Surprisingly so, since he slept even less than Isaiah, calling the ambulance at 3 in the morning.

Isaiah understood Arnie was trying to play the situation down, appealing to Hector's pride so he wouldn't let the pain get to him so much, but he didn't think it was currently helping.

Hector was simply in pain—one that wasn't leaving, wasn't getting better, and wouldn't be healed by his shadow for the next 12 hours at the least. This was not a good forecast for a wolf not used to endure pain, but there was no way to play it down.

Isaiah didn't have it in him to admonish Arnie though. His two younger brothers knew each other better than he knew them, he didn't dare. He understood Arnie was stressed out about it - he was even acutely aware of the fact.

One of the reasons why he found sharing his pain, sickness or weakness absolutely unacceptable with his brothers. He would not put Arnie through such an experience if he could help it. He never did, actually.

But he had failed in front of Hector one or two times about that, so he understood that too. Besides, it would probably be healthier to admit it, if they knew how to handle it right.

"Shit," Hector grunted, pressing his forehead against the window, hands gingerly around his stomach, just above the wound. "Stupid fucking medics, taking my shadow away."

"They couldn't work around it," Arnie said defensively, feeling involved in the decision since Hector was unconscious at the time. "It would be like the scene from Spiderman 2. The tentacles of Doc Oc killing everyone. Besides, the meds will wear off quicker than if it got rolled down."

"So glad you got it all planned out," Hector snapped, face white and strained. "Helps a shitton-"

"Alright," Isaiah interjected. "That's enough. Arnie is just trying to help," Isaiah said, giving the youngest a pointed look to just shut up. "Hex, anything we can do for you right now?"

"What would you want to do?!" Hector protested, growl in his voice. "Just want to go freaking home. What are you so slow for?"

Isaiah decided not to mention he was driving slowly because of Hector, to avoid the jostling as much as possible.

"Fucking grandma drives faster," Hector continued under his breath, but his eyes were open and more alert now as he watched the streets glide by the window.

Isaiah was relieved to finally reach Hector's apartment, though he took a deep breath to brace himself for the next part.

Hector put his hands on his knees experimentally, breaths coming in faster. He was scared of the walk.

"Arnie, go in first and open up for us, would you?" Isaiah suggested, for all their sakes. He didn't think struggling in front of Arnie made it any easier, nor was Arnie taking it very well.

Arnie dangled the keys in his hands and hurried out of the car. It swung left and right at the impact of the door slamming shut. Hector moaned quietly, hanging his head over his legs.

Isaiah opened and closed his doors gently, circling around slowly to let Hector prepare for it.

He opened the door and put a hand on Hector's nape. Sweat was clinging to his skin, and he felt warm and feverish.

"It won't be so bad. I'll help you," Isaiah said gently, rubbing his finger up and down on Hector's nape.

Hector straightened up, twitched at the movement, slowly swinging one leg out of the car. "Just-" he gulped, "just give me a minute?"

"Whenever you are ready. Take your time."

Hector closed his eyes for three more long breaths, then opened up with more fight in his eyes. "Okay."

Isaiah hugged him from the side so he could brace Hector's weight against him and pulled him up slowly. He aimed not to have Hector tense any of his stomach muscles to get upright.

Hector wrapped his arm around Isaiah’s neck, taking a fistful of his coat in his hand. He took a shaky breath but didn't protest being pulled up.

Isaiah took two steps to the side to close the door behind them and lock the car up. He wrapped his arm properly around Hector's middle, gripping it at his healthy side, half of his brother's weight on him. "Five minutes and you can lay down," he promised.

They made their way to the elevator, where Hector closed his eyes, slumping even more against Isaiah. "...how many more hours?"

"If we start counting from the moment the IV was removed and take 12 hours as the goal - around 10 hours and 40 minutes to go."

Hector pressed his lips together, murmuring something. "Keep the count for me?" he asked in a low voice, as if he were trying to find a nicer way to say it.

Isaiah readjusted his grip on him as the elevator arrived. "Of course."

Arnie left the door open for them. Isaiah didn't bother with the shoes and coats, dragging Hector to his room.

"Slowly now," he said as he helped him lower himself onto the bed. Getting down was as much of a challenge as getting up.

Hector let out a little groan as he sat down, white as a sheet from the short walk. He hunched over himself but didn't lie down immediately, letting Isaiah undo his shoes.

"It's Best if you just sleep through it," Isaiah said, gently helping Hector lay down against the pillows. He pushed the covers on top. It was a corner bed, so the wall was right next to them to lean on, and there was a TV hanging from the opposite wall.

Hector squirmed under the covers, face one big grimace. "Don't think I can sleep."

"Then let's find some low-energy distractions," Isaiah said. He got rid of his shoes and coat and climbed into the bed beside Hector. "Old movie or new? Something you like and could focus on what be good."

Hector's eyebrows knitted together in puzzlement at Isaiah, but he didn't comment on him inviting himself over.

Hector shifted around with his shoulders, comically lost in the covers. "Zaya? Could I- could you just get me something for this?" He pressed the words through his teeth.

"You are still on the meds from the hospital, there really isn't anything stronger here."

"Yeah, well that sucks," Hector said with a shudder. His hands pushed at the covers, digging into them with his fingers.

"We could try some ice on the wound. And maybe you could drink something?" Isaiah didn't like the sweat on Hector's forehead or the heat radiating from him even just sitting this close.

The doors creaked when Arnie stuck his head in. Isaiah quietly asked him what items to bring and added a thermometer for good measure.

"Is there no trick to this?" Hector said in a strangled voice, looking longingly at Isaiah's human-shaped shadow neatly tucked at the end of the bed without any light to explain the angle.

"Try calling for it as much as possible," Isaiah suggested. "I'm not experienced with drugs and medication, but the more you call it, the faster it tries to get back."

Hector curled up on his side, arms wrapped around his chest like he was cold. His forehead creased in concentration before he gasped for a breath, twisting in the pillows. "Doesn't work. I can't even...it's like reaching for something under the sofa. I know it's there, but I can't touch it." There was a hint of a whine in that sentence.

"Shhhhhhh. Then just let it be for a bit." The worst they could do was to get Hector upset. Isaiah put his hand on Hector's shoulder, almost by the neck, holding him steady as he took deep, ragged breaths.

Arnie tiptoed inside, bringing the ice wrapped in a kitchen towel, a glass of water and a thermometer. His fingertips were all chewed and bloody.

Isaiah sighed and whispered: "Go disinfect that and take a nap. I've got him." With Hector's shadow absent, he couldn't hear them.

Arnie looked at Isaiah with a glassy, scared look as if he weren't sure he really wanted to do this alone. Finally, he nodded. "Call me if you need something."

Hector shuffled under the covers so Isaiah could put the wrapped-up ice on top of the bandages. Hector winced at the contact before leaning back again. "Is he pissed off or something?"

"He is fine. Tired and worried," Isaiah said, sitting down properly against the wall. He turned on the TV, clicking between the channels until he found some kind of Tom Cruise action movie. "Are you sure you don't have a preference?"

"I don't have a list of favorites on the ready," Hector complained. "How the hell do you have time for that?"

Isaiah shrugged. "Movie night on Wednesdays, usually some kind of cinema or movie with Seline during the week and free weekend afternoons."

"What, Seline gives you breaks on the weekends?"

"Kinda. She is always out visiting her parents."

Hector gave him a look. "What? Why?"

"There are apparently parents worth visiting."

Hector frowned, silent for a long minute. Isaiah winced internally. Parents weren't a good topic by a stretch. Not since the whole reveal drama.

Hector rolled his head to look at the TV absently, though now he looked more dazed than focused. Isaiah hoped that was a sign he really would nod off to sleep. There were still 10 hours left.

"It's too freaking warm in here," Hector complained out of a sudden, scrambling up on shaky hands.

"What do you think you are doing?" Isaiah pushed him back, getting out of bed nimbly to open the window. "I'll do it. Just stay put."

Hector lifted himself up on the pillows a little, face scrunching up. "I don't feel well."

Isaiah got back onto the bed. "I know. It will just be a bit longer."

"No, like for real. I don't-" he hiccuped, pressing a hand to his lips. "I feel sick." He looked at Isaiah with wide eyes. "I don't want to throw up. It's hurting like a bitch as it is, Zaya, please-"

"Okay, okay, I got you." Isaiah had no idea what he was doing, but the pleading had his ribcage squeezing like he couldn't get in any air. He helped Hector to sit a bit more upright, leaning him against his side, his own arms wrapped around Hector's chest to hold him up. "Take deep breaths. There is fresh air coming from the window and you got nothing to throw up anyway. Just breathe."

"Make it stop," Hector sobbed, pressing his hands against Isaiah's on his chest. "It hurts."

"I know, buddy, I know. Shhhh. I'm right here." Isaiah held him as tight as he dared. Hector's head, now pressed against his neck, radiated heat like a furnace. No wonder he was so whiny.

"You wouldn't have a problem with something like this," Hector whimpered, a shiver running through him. "You would be fine. Even Arnie would be fine, it's just me-"

"Oh, shut it," Isaiah said sternly. "You are plenty resilient. You train day and night, you think I can't see it? It's like you are made of steel. That's not something you get from a shadow or because you are a wolf. And training is basically pain and learning to accept and like pain, and you got that."

"Then tell me how to do it," Hector demanded, swallowing heavily.

"I told you. Sleep, being comfy, movies, distraction-"

"Yeah, sure, cause that's how you do it. With your training and experience-"

"And you think that's an advantage?" Isaiah blurted out. "After all this time? I got pretty nasty things out of that torture crap too, just so you know. I did it so you wouldn't have to and now you are jealous of it? Jesus fucking Christ."

Maybe that was not the right thing to say at such a time, cause Hector was crying now, big fat tears streaming down his face. "Sorry, I'm sorry..." he hiccuped and then gagged.

Isaiah leaned forward along with him, holding his shoulders from behind as Hector heaved emptily over the sheets and the bed, shuddering with the pain, hands at his side.

"Shhhhhh. It's okay. Take deep breaths now. You are alright," Isaiah repeated over and over.

There was truly nothing for Hector to bring up, so Isaiah leaned back again, pulling Hector after him against his chest again. Thumbing the tears on his cheeks away with his hands, Isaiah's insides shook as if he were the one heaving.

"I'm sorry," Hector whimpered after a while with a sniffle. "I'm really sorry."

Isaiah stared at the ceiling tiredly. "I forgive you." He wrapped his hands snuggly around his brother. "Just don't say shit like that again."

They stayed in heavy silence for a while, Isaiah counting Hector's harsh breaths until they came more rhythmically.

"Tell me something that helps you," Hector said quietly. "Something that matters to you. Something real."

"That will help distract you? Really?" Isaiah said dryly. His chest was hurting at the conversation, at seeing Hector this weak and pained, at the issue being brought up at all.

Hector coiled up into a ball against him, which was the weirdest position since he wasn't a small man in the slightest.

"It helps to imagine it like a circle," Isaiah said into the silence. "A circle around where it hurts, like the pain gets trapped there. Like it can't get further and I can chase it out by cutting it off oxygen, attention, blood stream."

Hector made a little noise at the back of his throat, the side of his face pressing into Isaiah's chest. Over his heart.

"It helps not to be alone. I had to be for a long time, but now I don't and...and it helps, I think."

Hector closed his eyes, nodding against him.

"And the last thing...I don't know if it will work for you..."

Hector tensed against him with a little groan of pain.

"I really do like the movies," Isaiah said.

Hector waited in shocked silence at the words before giving a hoarse little chuckle, snuggling closer. "You are such an ass."

"If you don't pick, I will," Isaiah said, a tentative smile playing on his lips.

#sickfic #hurt/comfort #emeto #nausea #angst #bromance #werewolf wip #my writing #Hector

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