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much-obliged-timothy · 7 months

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Whumptober #13

Day 13 - Baldur's Gate 3 - "I don't feel so good"

I apologize for this being a day late, but I was away for a few days! This prompt is based on a note I found in game!

They stumbled back into camp, exhausted and ready to just eat and sleep. They’d gotten into a final fight on their way back to camp, draining the last of their energy.

“Astarion?” Tav asked as the man beside him staggered and nearly lost his balance. Tav caught his arm, holding on until he was certain Astarion was steady.

“Just need to rest, darling,” Astarion said.

Tav’s frown deepened. “I can smell food. Someone must already be cooking for us.”

Astarion waved his hand in dismissal. “I’m not hungry. I’m just going to…” He turned away, letting out an alarming cough into the crook of his elbow. He pushed his hair back, trying to shake the coughing attack off. “I’m just going to get some rest. Go eat, my love. I’m too tired to put myself on the menu for you tonight.”

Tav didn’t even dignify that with an eyeroll, because it sounded forced and strained. “Are you alright, Astarion?”

“Fine,” he said, a little impatiently. “I’m going to get some sleep.”

With that, he promptly turned and headed for his tent. That sent another spark of concern through Tav, because Astarion always slept out by the fire with the rest of them. He liked to be next to Tav, especially as their list of enemies grew.

Tav started after him, but Karlach caught his arm. “Leave him for a bit, soldier. You need to eat and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“But Astarion is-” Tav started.

Karlach dragged him towards the fire, where the scent of a meal was growing stronger. “You’re checking on him after, obviously. Fangs is off tonight. But you haven’t eaten since this morning since you insisted on running errands while we got lunch. The more you complain, the longer it’ll take you to go check on him.”

That got Tav to reluctantly snap his mouth shut. He let Karlach guide him to the fire, where, sure enough, Wyll was making stew for them. Thankfully, it was done within minutes, and Tav sat around the fire with the others as he ate, his mind drifting to Astarion.

When he’d finished, he grabbed an extra helping to bring Astarion and headed for his tent, Karlach nodding in approval as he went. He approached the tent quietly in case Astarion was asleep, but heard that same alarming cough from inside.

He knelt in the entrance and peeked in. Astarion was on his bedroll, curled up with his arms wrapped around his stomach and his body shaking.

“Astarion,” Tav said in concern, reaching out.

Astarion slapped his hand away. “Leave me alone.”

Tav set his shoulders, refusing to back down. “No. Something is wrong. Let me help. I thought we were past this, love.”

That seemed to take some of the fight out of Astarion. He’d been working to be more open with Tav since they’d defeated Cazador, but it was a slow process.

“That…” He had to stop to cough more, groaning a little and holding his stomach again. “Dammit. I don’t feel so good. That’s all.”

Tav didn’t know enough about vampires to know if they got sick. “How can I help?”

“You can’t,” Astarion said, a little bitterly. “It’s my own fault. That man whose blood I drank during the battle…” He grimaced.

“His blood made you ill?” Tav asked, crawling into the tent and sitting next to Astarion. He guided Astarion’s head onto his lap, running his fingers through Astarion’s curls to try and soothe him.

“Stop that. I’m not a child,” Astarion said, but either didn’t have the strength to pull away or didn’t actually want to. “He must’ve had a blood disease. They make vampires ill, and while it’s miserable, it’s not for long. I’ll be fine by the morning.”

“Well, you’re not fine right now. Let me stay with you tonight,” Tav said. “I mean, if you’d like me to.”

“And have you see me like this all night?” Astarion scoffed.

Tav ran his hand through Astarion’s curls again, but this time stopped to cup the back of his head gently. He bent down and pressed a kiss to Astarion’s temple. “You’ve seen me in much worse shape, love. Even if I can’t help, at least you don’t have to suffer alone.”

Astarion closed his eyes for a long moment before tilting his head a little. Tav resumed running his fingers through his hair, relieved that Astarion wasn’t going to fight him on this.

He looked absolutely miserable as he suffered through his sickness, but there was nothing to be done for it. All Tav could do was stay with him and offer him what comfort he could until the episode passed. He knew he couldn’t physically help Astarion, but he hoped his presence was enough to make the whole awful ordeal just a little more tolerable.

#whumptober2023 #no.13 #i don't feel so good #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #fic writing #astarion #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #jtdoeswhumptober

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bearsinpotatosacks · 7 months

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Will the Blood Be There in the Morning? - Whumptober2023

But for days like today, he didn’t need a date to remember. He didn’t need to read a board or for someone to inform him, he knew that today was the day he died.

He could tell in the rising sickness, rippling through his stomach and leaving that thick, sharply sweet feeling of nausea in his throat. It was the screaming sensation in his bones telling him something was wrong, different in his reanimated corpse tonight. The scar across his back didn’t hurt exactly, not tingly or weeping, yet at least, but he could certainly say that he was more aware of it right now than he usually was.

----

Ahkmenrah experiences his death again.

For day 13 of @whumptober . Also on AO3, inspired by a post here on tumblr that I can't find but spoke about the exhibits experiencing their deaths. If anyone can find it for me then I'd greatly appreciate it.

Words: 4066

Ahkmenrah stood overlooking his sarcophygus with a sick feeling in his stomach. Rising bile despite the fact that his gall bladder had been removed with his liver, held by Ismeti and part of the many artifacts of his that were stored, but he couldn’t have. He often wondered if they too were restored to how they’d been when he was alive each night, or stayed dead considering they’d been removed from his body. Or they could just magically return to his body, they hadn’t been removed when he’d been alive so if he was truly how he was then, in body at least, not spirit, then surely they’d be there. He’d never ventured to the records department to find out.

Sometimes the passage of time, and the different calenders used in the modern day, made it hard to remember exact dates from his previous life. His birthday, when his parents had died, when he was crowned Pharaoh, when he died. If it wasn’t for the historians finding old records and translating them into the modern day, he wouldn’t be able to trust himself to remember much at all.

He was the only actual human exhibit in the entire museum, he wondered if that meant his memories were more or less vibrant than the likes of say, Teddy, who could recount tales all night long, but openly admitted to the fact that they didn’t feel like his. Ahkmenrah couldn’t really get his head around that idea. His memories were his after all, so the idea of remembering something, but knowing it was all fake, made him feel even more sick to his stomach.

But for days like today, he didn’t need a date to remember. He didn’t need to read a board or for someone to inform him, he knew that today was the day he died.

This night was one of the few nights that he’d appreciated being locked away for fifty years in his saarcophygus. Seeing people, when you were literally dying, was a little hard to muster. Especially with how gruesome his death would get, he should know, he experienced it every year. Also, people didn’t get concerned over his screams like they would do now, his screams were normal after all. And they left him alone, something he wanted tonight but didn’t exactly get. If he ever isolated himself too much, someone would always try to find him, not a desired outcome when you’re trying not to vomit on your own blood. Not good.

“Ahk, you alright?” That was Larry, he had absolutely no idea about what was happening right now. He didn’t want him to find out. It was far too much for even the other exhibits, much less a mortal man who hadn’t yet experienced death.

He swallowed the rising bile, the main event wouldn’t start for a few hours, he could handle things for a few hours. “I will be,” He said, turning to him with a half-smile.

“Great, come on, there’s a red moon tonight.”

A blood moon, how ironic.

~~~~

The exhibits were loitering outside the front door of the museum when he and Ahkmenrah joined them. Teddy seemed the most interest, gazing through a pair of binoculars Larry had brought in after reading the news when he woke up. Some of the others were braving the cold, others were watching from windows inside, such as Sacagawea. He’d expected her to be out here but she’d claimed that she felt under the weather, something he didn’t think museum exhibits could do but every day was a school day, he guessed.

He turned to Ahk, and saw the goosebumps on his arms. He supposed ornate robes made for the egyptian desert weren’t the most suitable for New York in December. He stepped over to him, still unsure about where they were when it came to what they were, and rubbed his arms. That small smile he gave him shot butterflies through him.

“The egyptian had a lunar calendar, right?” Larry asked.

“In the beginning, yes, but by the time I was Pharoah, we had a solar one.”

His gaze was solely on the sky. Did he miss it, during all those years locked away in his sarcophygus? Did he blame himself or did he hate the old guards who did it to him? He wanted to ask him about it but was far too worried it was a sensitive subject to try.

“How did that work?” He opted for instead.

“We had four seasons each 120 days, with three months of thirty days in them, and five holy days at the end.”

He said it like it was simple, like he was asking him what grass was. Larry couldn’t help but feel jealous that he, all the exhibits in fact, understood an entirely different time than he did, remembered as their own. Was it like remembering their childhood? Distant and fuzzy? Or was it vibrant, held in place by the knowledge that you could never return there and it be the same again.

“Makes sense, more than ours does in comparison,” he said.

“You can image my confusion when I first learnt the new one,”

New one. It wasn’t new to Larry. Nor to many of the other exhibits in the museum. They weren’t four-thousand years old, though.

“It’s strange how the moon doesn’t change, isn’t it?” Larry said.

The red light radiated from the celestial figure but couldn’t break through the shield of artificial lighting made by the City that Never Sleeps. He wondered how it looked over the sand dunes and monuments of Ancient Egypt, or the forests when Sacagawea was forced to lead Lewis and Clarke, or after a battle when the red covering your weapon shimmered under the dark reflection. It was daunting and comforting to know that these things were ancient. He had something in common with all his friends, but it also reminded him that they were never meant to be here.

Ahkmenrah didn’t respond. When he turned to him, he saw his eyes closed and jaw tense. His usually tanned skin seemed dull, as if the sun had gone in on a sunny day. His hands clenched his robes with a grip so tight it almost drained the blood from his hands. It made Larry wonder how close to life Ahkmenrah was, if the blood was reall draining from his face or if he was just feeling the effects. Whatever it was, he couldn’t help but feel like it was his fault.

“Sorry, what is something I said?”

He moved closer and wrapped his arms around him as he began to fail. His feel stumbled, moving through the snow covered stairs and slipping on the layer of ice underneath. His body was strangely light as he lent into his arms.

“You alright?” He said. “Is something going around? Sac was acting the same way earlier?”

Teddy turned around at the mention of her name. A wave of seriousness came across his face. It spread to the others as they looked between him and where Ahkmenrah was faint in his arms.

“It’s not something spreading, Lawrence.” He spoke with experience, as if this was something prepared or expected, like he was supposed to know.

He walked closer and removed his fake leather gloves. Placing the back of his hand on Ahkmenrah’s forehead, he began to explain without looking at Larry.

“Every year we’ve come to life we have to experience our deaths again, like a price to pay for our strange sort of eternal life that’s brought about from the tablet.”

Larry went from keeping his eyes locked on Ahkmenrah to darting to Teddy. Ahk gulped and stood up, not looking any better but taking deep, shaky breaths as he tried to ground himself.

“That’s why Sacagawea is indisposed at the moment, I did offer to accompany her but she prefers to be alone on this day,” Teddy looked at the ground.

Ahkmenrah gulped again, hands clenched at his sides. “It’s a hard day, Larry, to be reminded of everything you had and will never have again, despite being reminded of it every day.”

Larry had no idea what to expect. He’d researched most of them when he’d first started, their deaths being at the end of whatever article or book he read. He’d never given it a second thought, their deaths. To him, they were maniquins, mostly, exhibits in a museum given a weird chance at immortality. After realising how Teddy felt about being a fake Theodore Roosevelt, he learnt not to prod any of them too much as the details about their life, and how it affected their not-death.

“So this is how you’ll be all night? Weak and waiting for-” He didn’t say death, because it wasn’t, not really, not if it was an annual thing.

“A death that will never be real?” He finished.

Larry nodded.

“Yes, except this isn’t it, at least for me.”

The others turned to him. His usual ingrained confidence had disappeared. All his energy seemed to be going into keeping himself standing and coherent.

“My death had two parts, each by my brother Kahmunrah,” He said.

Those who’d been sent to the Smithsonian reacted accordingly. It was strange to think how they could be related, Larry had done subsequent research and seen the theories that he could’ve been a bastard son, born of Ahkmenrah’s father and a concubine. He hadn’t asked what Ahkenrah thought or knew of that theory, he didn’t think that conversation would go very well.

“I should’ve suspected that he was trying to kill me for a while. I wasn’t king for awfully long, not the decades like my father, and he was always at my side, advising and pretending. I should’ve known that he was actually trying to get close enough to kill me.”

He closed his eyes and bit his lips. For a moment, he shook in the wind, weak as a feather. Larry placed a hand on his back again.

“He tried to poison my breakfast, but must have not put enough in, because while I fell ill, yes, I didn’t drop down dead immediately. So I lay down, and a little while later, he came up to ‘check on me’. He didn’t make his presence known so could catch me off guard and-”

He didn’t finish the sentence butturned and lifted the extravagant cape out of the way. None of them had looked at his back before, why would they, but they could tell now that there was a reason that Ahkmenrah wore his over-the-top clothes that was more than just ‘it was what he was buried in’. A raised, angry scar took up most of his otherwise smooth back. It wasn’t just a stab wound, which would be bad enough, Kahmunrah had lost control and not just stabbed his brother, but carved an Ankh symbol into his body. A wave of nausea came over Larry, he pushed it down.

“He plunged his blade into my back, all the air left my body, I couldn’t fight him off, he was always taller than me. I knew I was going to die then, I knew why I’d felt ill that morning. And it only got worse, he spoke of him being the rightful heir, of me being the favourite and him helping me along even more and making sure I stayed dead by carving the Ankh symbol into my back. The key of life, rather ironic I know, but used by us Egyptian on-”

“Tombs.” Larry finished.

Ahkmenrah dropped the cape and nodded. He didn’t turn around however. His body stumbling again, faltering, probably regaining composure, he was always polite and formal. Larry approached him, hands going on his shoulders then down his his sides. As he pondered if it was appropriate to touch him back, Ahk let out a raw gasp. It crackled and croaked, pain in just a sound as he fell forward, only not faceplanting because Larry forgot all etiquette and grabbed him around the waist to stop him.

Larry settled his arms under his arms, feeling all his body pressing into him as he lost more and more of that spark in his eyes, his tan skin not glowing but dull.

“Come on, Ahk, let’s get you somewhere comfortable,” He had no idea where but he would find somewhere.

“Sarcophygus.”

“But that can’t be comfortable-”

“Sarcophygus, please.”

They met eyes, Larry nodded and shifted Ahk so he wasn’t fully weighing down one shoulder. As he adjusted his arm, his hand brushed his back again. Red coated his fingertips as he saw a glimpse of his hand. Blood.

Ahkmenrah had noticed this too and his sickly face froze, startled. “It’s already started.”

Enough explaining. Teddy opened the door as Larry and Ahkmenrah hobbled toward the elevator. His breathing was getting heavier as he tried not to pant. Every few steps his feet would falter, slipping on the varnished floor. Larry kept gripping his side tighter and tighter, his shoulder aching as he took more of his weight on.

The elevator jolted as it travelled upwards. Luckily his exhibit was near by, and private. Even though the museum had known for a few years now that Ahkmenrah wasn’t the crazed Pharaoh that they were led to believe, he guessed some habits died hard, bad choice of words considering the situation, and most people still didn’t linger too much in the corridor. Either that or the intimidating Anubis statues guarding the entrance that still gave everyone at least a harsh look when they walked past.

By the time the elevator arrived at their floor, Ahkmenrah was stumbling with every step. Larry could see red splotches on his cape as they raced toward privacy. He didn’t mention this, Ahkmenrah probably didn’t need him to do this. With every step, that scar on his back was opening up, his face becoming sullen, eyes unfocused as he tried to concentrate on moving and not collapsing in the empty hallway. Did he feel the blade too or just the agony of his flesh being ripped apart?

The Anubis guards rose their weapons to separate Larry from Ahkmenrah, immortally protective of their Pharaoh. Ahkmenrah managed to wave a hand and they turned their weapons from them to the entrance, not exactly pointing them at anyone who could walk past but making it evident that here was not somewhere you were going to linger tonight.

“Here, Larry, please.”

How could he remain so polite even when he was literally dying?

They both collapsed gently onto the harsh stone floor. Ahk slipped from Larry’s shoulder to rest on his torso, giving up on controlling his breathing as he panted. Larry took his hand in his as clenched his eyes closed. There would be blood on his uniform, something he’d have to explain to Dr McPhee in the morning if he saw. Although, would it even be there in the morning, considering Ahkmenrah would go back to being a 4000 year old mummified corpse by then?

Larry didn’t say anything. There was too much going on already, too much in the air for him to add to. He could feel Ahkmenrah’s pain in the air as he opened his eyes again, his breathing not pants but slow and shallow. His body sunk more and more onto him, Larry became more and more aware of how solid the floor was, felt its cold leaching through his clothes and into his skin. The only thing he felt sure of was how tight Ahk held onto his hand, as if it was his only lifeline in a tumultuous ocean.

“Just focus on that, okay?” He said in a whisper.

All Ahkmenrah could do was nod. He’d deteriorated so fast, what was he expecting from that severe of a wound? Yet he didn’t have any experience when it came to wounds, or blood, or dying. Larry was seriously underqualified for this. Just another skill he’d have to learn for this job, it was strange how he both didn’t mind that, if it meant comforting someone he cared about, and wanted to run in the opposite direction.

“Do you want me to say anything?”

Ahkmenrah nodded, again. He closed his eyes again, the skin around them crinkling as he tensed. Larry saw crimson sinking into his uniform, mixing with the grey to create a sticky burgundy. It stuck to his fingers, his palms flashing bright against his pale skin.

“Nick’s enjoying high school-”

That was all he could think about, Nick had wanted to come tonight, but he had a lot of homework to do over the Christmas break that was more important than hanging out here on a Monday night. Larry was glad he and Erica had both put their foot down, this was too much for anyone, let alone a kid.

He turned back to Ahk to finish his sentence when he jolted up. His next breath came out wet as blood spurted from his mouth, dribbling up and bubbling as he tried to get in any air through the pain. They met eyes, there was a pleading look in them as Larry went to wipe it away or say something, he carried on with his sentence.

“He’s-he’s um still got some of his friends from middle school so there wasn’t too much of a jump,” He didn’t want to ignore the fact that he was holding someone currently bleeding to death, but Ahkmenrah trying not to choke on his own blood was an image permemantly seared into his brain. “He’s joined a computer club, I think it’s for games or coding them or something, I’ve never been good with computers, really.”

Ahk’s hand weakened in his. His eyes glazed over occasionally as he tried to focus on him and his words, he didn’t care if he wasn’t taking any of this in.

“Not that I don’t like video games, I went to the arcade when I was a kid.” He said. “But the ones Nicky plays are just far too confusing for a guy who’s used to Space Invaders and Pacman.”

He realised, through the confusion and fear, that Ahkmenrah didn’t know what he was on about “I’ll have to show you sometime, there’s a place in Brooklyn that has a bunch of old arcade games, I took Nick there one day on my day off and it was satisfying when I was better than him, don’t tell him that.”

Ahk’s head slipped from his torso and rested on the stone below them. The blood was trickling from his chin, down his neck and marking his expensive outfit with fresh red. He could see the wound through his clothes now, wet to the touch and even heavier than before.

Larry tried to turn him around, his body getting harder and harder to lift as he got weaker and weaker. The whites were rimmed red as tears fell down his face and mixed with the blood stuck to his face, watering it down and causing more to fall down his neck. If this is what he like now, how had he managed this every year he’d been locked away? Had he screamed more than usual? Would it have even been worth it?

He wiped one away as he let out a mix between a sob and a cry. More blood spurted out. His hands were cold now, as Larry gripped them both in his and secured him on his shoulder, running his thumb through his short hair. His eyes kept drifting shut, not clenched from pain as they had earlier. This was it, wasn’t it?

He knew better than to admit that his shoulder was starting to ache from where Ahk was slumped on him. It was all of his weight now. His body relaxing as he gave into whatever happened when an already dead Pharaoh died again.

There was blood everywhere, in places he didn’t think it could reach. Covering both hands, most of his uniform and his pants. It pooled in the grout between the stone slabs on the floor, dyed Ahk’s robes scarlet and wiped his skin like paint.

His breathing got croakier, ripping and scratching as the blood stopped bubbling from his lips and dried on them as they cracked. He looked down at how much of his blood was oozing out of him, not flowing like before, and whined, how did he deserve such a gruesome death?

Larry tilted his head with one hand and made sure that he couldn’t miss his gaze. If he was dying, reliving his last moments, he’d rather he not look at the evidence of his own pain.

“La-larry-” Ahk croaked out, a whisper and a plead all at once.

“I know, just focus on me,” He wished this was over, and felt guilt ripple through when he did. “Not much longer okay, then you’ll wake up tomorrow night and this will all be a dream, okay?”

He nodded. His brown eyes flicked as he took in all his facial features. A distant haze creeping in from both sides as any parts of his body that still had some strength in them gave in.

“And this won’t happen for another year. The eclipse will be there tomorrow and you can tell me all about whatever you can remember about Ancient Egyptian astrology like it’s common knowledge, because you’re smart and sarcastic and passionate and don’t, didn’t, deserve this pain.”

He couldn’t even nod anymore as he stopped looking in his eyes and sank onto his shoulder. Like he was turning into a liquid, he melted down his body. A few more shallow breaths came out of his mouth before the final death rattle, something he’d never actually heard before because he was lucky enough that his parents were still both alive. His eyes were bland and still. Hands flopped lifelessly across his lap as he moved him back into his sarcophygus, something a lot harder than usual as all his body seemed three times more heavy.

This wasn’t how he should’ve been remembered. He realised that he hadn’t even had the graces of a comforting face in his last moments, probably just his brother towering over him as he waited for the crown to become his. The blood covering him, scarring and painting him not as elegant as he prided himself in being. Skin not soft and dazzling like it seemed to be all the time. He closed his eyes for him.

He couldn’t look for too long, however, it still was the dead body of the person he loved. Museum exhibit or not, that was hard for anyone to bear. Moving everything back into place, he nodded at the Anubis guards and waited for them to move back to their places before leaving to give the others the news.

There was a trail of blood as he trudged back to the others. He didn’t think he could take that elevator again for a few days, not with everything fresh and new in his mind. Although he wished not to feel this, he also didn’t want to get used to seeing Ahkmenrah like that, considering that was going to happen every year the tablet was here.

Other exhibits moved past and around him. Sun sparkled through the window as dawn broke. How long had he been in there? It hadn’t felt like long but had evidently been all night.

He looked over the balcony and saw most of the others waiting by the desk. All he could so was nod as he moved on autopilot to do his end of shift tasks. Did they feel guilt knowing what Ahk had to go through every year he was locked up there, alone?

The answer didn’t truly matter, though, the question dwarfed by another as he heard it ringing and echoing like bells in the distant. Would the blood disappear when the sun fully came up?

This is my kind of whump. Blood, death, all that good stuff. Like I said, this idea wasn't mine, I just expanded on my interpretation of it. Thanks for reading! @whumptober-archive

#whumptober2023 #no. 13 #i don't feel so good #fic #natm #night at the museum #blood tw #death tw #stab wound tw #ahkmenrah #larry daley #teddy roosevelt #sacagawea #post natm 2 #kahmunrah #ahkmenrah natm #sacagawea natm #bear writes #tablet guardians

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goldenpinof · 6 months

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GIVE ME THE GAY SHIT

@danielhowell @amazingphil WHERE YOU AT

#i don't feel so good #uploadfd #answered #dan and phil

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callaeidae3 · 7 months

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Whumptober2023 Day 13/14 - "I don't feel so good" / "Just hold on"

#whumptober2023 #no.13 #no.14 #i don't feel so good #just hold on #kindall k series #OC #art #hurt comfort #emotional hurt/comfort #whump art #kyle kindall #yuuki takahashi #kk2

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set-phasers-to-whump · 7 months

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caretaking

prompt: "i don't feel so good", cold compress

whumpee: eddie diaz

fandom: 911

hi here's another eddie whump fic :) this one is pre-buddie and that's about all there is to know. hope you enjoy it!

They’re out shopping for birthday presents for Chris - Buck can’t believe how old this kid is getting - and Eddie is strangely silent. And not in the content-to-listen-to-Buck-talk-on-and-on kind of way.

Something is up.

Buck doesn’t want to pry, not yet. He trusts Eddie to tell him if something is really wrong. He might just be tired. It’s been a long week, and Buck knows that Eddie never sleeps as much as he should, anyway.

They’re in the electronics aisle, looking at some ridiculously expensive headphones, when Eddie taps Buck’s shoulder.

“Hey, Buck?”

Buck turns his attention away from the pair of bright blue headphones he’s been eyeing.

“Yeah?”

Eddie is looking straight at him, but also sort of through him. His eyes are glassy and unfocused and there’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead that wasn’t there before.

“I don’t feel so good.”

He sways forward a little, grabbing onto Buck’s arm to keep his balance. Buck can feel the feverish heat emanating from Eddie’s palms.

“Okay, let’s, let’s find somewhere to sit down,” he suggests. The last thing they need is for Eddie to collapse in the middle of the store.

But Eddie shakes his head. “I’m okay,” he mumbles, though Buck is sure Eddie knows he doesn’t believe him. “Can we…I want to go home.”

“Yeah,” Buck agrees. “I’ll get you home.”

They slowly walk out of the store, headphones forgotten. Buck lets Eddie choose how much contact they have. At first, they walk separately, though still close enough to touch. But then Eddie starts slowing down, and Buck knows what he’s asking for without him having to say it.

He slips an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and takes on a bit of his weight. He’s really burning up. All Buck can think about is getting to his Jeep, getting Eddie off his feet and into the intense air-conditioning in the front seat.

The walk through the parking lot is miserable. It’s the middle of summer and the air is still and hot. Eddie grabs onto Buck’s arm and leans more heavily onto him. His palms are clammy and Buck can hear him trying to breathe deeply and evenly. He’s sort of succeeding, but not really.

In the car, Buck cranks the air-conditioning and points all the vents towards the passenger seat. Eddie leans his head back and closes his eyes, and Buck drives as fast as he dares to Eddie’s address.

They’re only outside for a short time this go around, and being off his feet and in the cool air seems to have done Eddie a marginal amount of good. He walks inside without needing Buck’s support, though he does need Buck to unlock the door - his hands are shaking.

Inside, Buck gets down to business immediately.

“Go lie down,” he instructs. “Take off your clothes and don’t get under the blankets.”

He doesn’t think that last part is strictly necessary to even say aloud - no way Eddie is going to crawl beneath the covers when his hair is so damp with sweat he looks like he’s just come out of the shower - but it doesn’t hurt to be safe.

While he waits for Eddie to get himself settled, Buck fills up a large glass of ice water, grabs a bottle of Tylenol and a thermometer, and dampens a washcloth with cool water.

He finds Eddie in his boxers atop the covers, lying flat on his back with his eyes half-closed.

“Sit up a little,” Buck says, and Eddie pushes himself into what could charitably be called a sitting position.

Buck takes his temperature - 102 - and then hands him the water and the medicine. Eddie takes the pills with no resistance. He drinks the water until he nearly chokes on it.

“How are you feeling?” Buck asks, as Eddie lies back down.

Eddie shrugs against the pillow. “Hot,” he mumbles.

“You’ve got a 102-degree fever,” Buck agrees. “Here.”

He carefully drapes the damp, cool washcloth onto Eddie’s forehead. For a second, Eddie stiffens up at the unexpected temperature change, but he quickly relaxes.

“‘S nice,” he decides.

“Do you need anything else?”

Eddie looks up at him, exhausted and miserable and open.

“Will you stay?”

“Course I will. As long as you want.”

thanks for reading!!!

#whumptober2023 #no.13 #i don't feel so good #cold compress #911 #fic #eddie diaz #sick #fever #cared for #my writing #i say things #realized i fucked up tagging some other posts and now i have to go fix it. ough.#oh happy friday the 13th btw! (i say as i'm typing on the 6th)#best possible friday the 13th occasion though. spooky etc.

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adzeisval · 7 months

Text

I don't feel so good

Some Lucius whump today, warning for vomiting in this one. Also on AO3.

Lucius looked at the spread of food before him and couldn’t wait to dig in. They had raided quite the fancy ship and Roach had outdone himself with the feast. There was chicken and turkey, beef, at least three different kinds of fish, and so many side dishes the entire galley was full of food.

And that was just the food. There were bottles of very good wine and a few different beers. Lucius was going to pace himself.

The whole crew dug into to the feast and drink and it was the best time Lucius had had at sea for quite some time. Everyone else looked like they were having fun too. Even Izzy looked like he was having fun and he was actually eating some of the food for once.

A few hours after the feast began Lucius started to feel a bit…odd. He felt far too warm, he hadn’t drank that much! His stomach was full but it also hurt and somehow felt…itchy?

“What’s wrong babe?” Pete asked.

“I don’t feel so good,” Lucius said, “Too warm. I’m going to go up on deck for a bit.” The cool air felt good for a few moments but then his stomach started cramping and he felt like he might…

Lucius ran to the edge of the ship and vomited into the sea. When the second wave came he went to his knees. He didn’t know why the fuck he was puking so much. He’d barely had anything to drink! The food wasn’t bad; no one else was up there puking with him.

His stomach cramped again and he heaved and nothing came up. Lucius moaned. How long was this going to last? What was this?

Lucius sat leaning against the railing and waited for the next bout of sickness to hit him. He heard someone coming and didn’t really want Pete to see him looking like shit. Oh fuck, it wasn’t Pete. It was Izzy. Of course it was Izzy. All the times Lucius had called him Izzy the spewer he was probably going to have so much fun gloating…

“It helps if you lay on your side and draw your knees up to your chest,” Izzy said.

“What?”

“Like this,” Izzy demonstrated. Lucius wans’t sure if Izzy was fucking with him but he decided to try it anyway. It didn’t stop the cramping but the next wave that came wasn’t quite as bad.

“What is this?”

“You probably ate something that doesn't agree with you,” Izzy said, “Now your body is trying to get rid of it.”

“How long is this going to last?”

“Hard to say.”

“Am I dying?”

Izzy scoffed, “No Lucius. I know this sucks but I’m not even worried enough to get Roach. I would get Roach if I thought you needed him. What you need is to get all of that out of you.”

Lucius wanted to shoot back at Izzy that he had no idea what was going on but…was this what Izzy went through every time he had stomach issues?

Lucius' stomach cramped and he moaned. He hoped it would all be over soon.

“Can you tell Pete what’s going on?” he asked.

“Yes,” Izzy said and left for a few minutes then came back, “Pete knows. He hopes you feel better soon. We all do.”

“You can go back in,” Lucius said.

“I’d rather make sure you’re alright. You might fall asleep and I wouldn’t want you to fall overboard. And I don’t think you want me to tie you to the deck.”

Lucius stomach cramped and he dry heaved over the edge of the boat and wished he was dead. He would rather deal with ten million hangovers than this shit. And worst of all he wasn’t even sure what he had eaten that had done this. He was going to have to stick to foods he already knew or risk getting sick again. It fucking sucked.

“Izzy?”

“Hmm?”

“Is it like this for you?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making fun of you, calling you names for this. It fucking sucks.”

“It’s hard to know how much it sucks if you haven’ t had it happen to you before,” Izzy said.

Lucius couldn’t believe he made fun of Izzy for this. Poor Izzy. Everybody made fun of him for it. Lucius wasn’t going to do it any more.

Lucius’ stomach cramped and he dry heaved for what felt like forever. Izzy never left his side. He fell asleep at some point and woke up with Izzy even closer to make sure that he didn’t go over. Thankfully there was a small chance for that as the sea was calm. But it felt good to know that Izzy was there. His stomach still hurt and he didn’t want to move and somehow he fell asleep again.

It was almost morning when he woke up again. Izzy was still there. Izzy had stayed with him the entire night.

“You should try to drink some water,” Izzy said.

“Oh god I don’t know…”

“Stomach still hurting?”

“Yes.”

“You still need to try a small sip. You need to drink,” Izzy said.

Lucius didn’t want to at all but…he was rather thirsty. He took a small sip of water. It felt good. It was nice and cool as it went down his throat. It felt not so good as it hit his stomach. Lucius groaned. But somehow he managed to keep it down. Izzy gave him a sip of water every so often as long as it stayed down.

“I think you’re through this,” Izzy said.

“What happens next?”

“You’ll probably have to eat simple plain foods for the rest of today at least. I’ll put you on light duties for the next few days,” Izzy said.

“You never take light duty.”

“I’m used to it,” Izzy said.

“You shouldn’t have to. Again I’m sorry Izzy.”

“It’s alright Lucius, and I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Izzy said. Izzy helped Lucius stand and Lucius felt a little wobbly but he desperately wanted to go to Pete. He turned to face Izzy.

“Thank you Izzy.”

“You’re welcome Lucius.”

#whumptober2023 #no.13 #i don't feel so good #ofmd #fic #lucius spriggs #izzy hands

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