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fluffyllamas-23 · 9 months

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If you feel inspired, Stucky for this prompt: “It was just a dream, you’re alright.” (Esp if Steve is having super bad fever dreams?) Thank you!

Hiiiii so…this has been in my inbox for literal years (I AM SO SORRY), and i’m not sure if you even want this still, BUT I do love me a good Stucky prompt. It’s getting to actually feel like fall where I live now, so what better way to kick that off than a cute stucky prompt? I haven’t written much of anything in a couple of years so I’m probably really rusty, but i hope you like it <3 <3

This is a modern AU, but Steve's got that post-serum bod I love so much lmao

Bucky walks into the apartment foot first in case the cats are trying to make yet another unsuccessful escape outside. He’s not sure what they would do if they managed to get out, but he’s also not all that interested in finding out.

There were no cats waiting, though, which was odd, he thought to himself. They’re usually waiting at the door, ready to greet whoever was coming home and sing them the song of their people.

He figures maybe they’re keeping Steve company. He had woken up not feeling great (but not awful) and had opted to work from home today. When one of them works from home, the cats usually like being a nuisance and playing their favorite game of “how many times can I walk across dad’s keyboard before I get myself locked out of his office?”

Also weird, he thinks, is just how dark and quiet the apartment is. Steve’s work day ended a couple of hours ago at this point, and usually he’d be hanging out on the couch, watching something on TV, or making something for the two of them for dinner while he waits for Bucky to get home. It’s really out of the norm that things would feel this quiet and still, which is kind of a dead giveaway that Steve was probably feeling worse than he had that morning.

Bucky closes the door behind him and sets down the drink carrier and paper bag he’d been carrying on the table. He had stopped by their favorite coffee shop on his way home to pick up Steve’s favorite tea latte and the pumpkin muffin they both think about year-round until fall hits.

“Steve?” He calls out. “Honey? I’m home! I brought you some tea. How are you feeling?”

When he gets no response, he grabs Steve’s tea and walks to their bedroom. Steve is sprawled out under the covers, snoring softly as he sleeps, completely dead to the world. Bucky sets the tea down on Steve's nightstand, and then sits down on the edge of the bed next to him.

He reaches out to feel Steve’s forehead and frowns as the skin beneath his hand burns. He sighs and slides his hand down to feel his cheek with the backs of his fingers. He'd tried to sneakily check if Steve had a fever this morning, and he didn't, so the fact that he was this warm was alarming.

It’s not until he feels the back of Steve’s neck that he starts to wake. He blinks awake, looking at Bucky with the cutest, sleepiest expression.

Bucky’s heart drops when he can really take in Steve’s appearance - he doesn’t look like he feels good at all. He’s pale and clammy, flushed with dark bags under his eyes. His eyes are bright and glassy, unfocused from the fever he’s most definitely running.

Steve squints in confusion when he sees Bucky.

“What?” He croaks, voice thick with sleep and the congestion that’s starting to creep in. “You’re home already?”

“Already? Darling, it’s six-thirty,” he chuckles. “You have a fever. How are you feeling?”

“Fantastic,” Steve deadpans. “Never better. You should try it, feels awesome.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he cards his fingers through Steve’s hair. It’s not helping the bedhead that he’s sporting, but Bucky knows how much Steve loves him playing with his hair when he’s not feeling well.

“Alright, smartass. How long have you been asleep? Sorry for waking you.”

Steve runs a hand down his face. “I don’t know…texted my boss around noon that I was logging off for the day and fell asleep sometime after..”

Bucky frowns again, concern creeping in. “Since noon? Did you have a fever then?”

“Don’t think so,” Steve yawns, “just a really bad headache.”

“Did you take anything?”

“Some Advil…didn’t help, though.”

Bucky pats Steve’s thigh. “I’m going to go grab the thermometer and some more meds. Drink your tea.”

Steve pushes himself into a sitting position and then slumps back into the pillows. He definitely didn’t mean to sleep for as long as he did. He even set an alarm, but he vaguely remembers turning it off and tossing his phone on the floor in annoyance the moment it started blaring.

His head is pounding and he can’t remember the last time he ached this badly. A bath sounds wonderful, but the thought of moving is enough to bring him close to tears. He can feel the congestion setting in - his face feels heavy, and his ears are starting to feel stuffy and full. He sniffles, rubbing at his nose as he yawns.

He should not be as tired as he is with how long he slept, but he’s ready to call it for the night and try to sleep off whatever the hell kind of bug this is.

“Here,” Bucky says when he comes back into the room. He sets the blister pack of cold meds on the nightstand and then hands Steve the thermometer. He kisses Steve’s fever-warm forehead. “Take your temp, I’m gonna go change real quick.”

Bucky is pulling up his sweat pants when he hears the thermometer beep, followed by a pause, and then a very shocked “oh.”

“What’s it at?”

“102.1.”

“Yikes…no wonder. Take the meds,” Bucky calls from the closet.

He doesn’t respond, but when Bucky steps out of the closet, Steve is fussing with the blister pack of meds. Bucky can see the frustration building and then he throws it down on the bed next to him with an irritated sigh. That launches him into a coughing fit that sounds rough enough it has Bucky wincing in sympathy.

“Here,” Bucky says, opening the meds for him. He cups Steve’s cheek and strokes it with his thumb. “What are you in the mood for, dinner-wise? And don’t say nothing, that’s not an option.”

“How’d you know-”

“-How’d I know you were going to say that?” He asks, raising his brows. “Contrary to popular belief, Steven, I actually know you very well. You never want to eat when you’re sick.”

Steve sighs. “Yeah, well, I’m not hungry.”

“I know. You still need to eat…at least a little bit with the meds. C’mon. Does anything sound even remotely good? Soup? Ramen? Pho? Grilled cheese?”

Steve clears his throat with a grimace, “grilled cheese does, I guess. I don’t know. I really just want to go back to sleep.”

“We’ll compromise, then.” Bucky says gently, going back to carding his fingers through Steve’s hair. “You go back to sleep for a bit while I make you some dinner.”

When Bucky returns, Steve is fast asleep, but he does not look like he’s having a restful sleep.

His face, pale and clammy, is screwed up in discomfort. He’s tossing and turning, getting tangled in the blankets and looking like he’s having the hardest time being comfortable. Bucky sets down the plate of grilled cheese on top of the dresser next to the door quickly before crossing the room to get to Steve.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says softly, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking Steve’s face in his hands. “Steve. Wake up.”

Steve’s eyes open immediately, but it’s like he’s looking straight through Bucky as his eyes dart around the room, distress clear on his face.

“Wha-”

“Stevie…hey-it was just a dream. Sweetheart, look at me. Look at me,” he says firmly. After a few moments, Steve’s eyes flick to Bucky’s face. “It was just a dream, you’re alright. You’re okay. I’m here.”

“Oh,” Steve breathes, feeling himself relaxing immediately now that he’s seen his person and realizes whatever the hell he was dreaming of isn’t real.

“You’re okay,” Bucky repeats, stroking Steve’s cheek. “I’m right here. It’s not real, It was just a dream.”

Steve nuzzles his face into Bucky’s hand, mumbling a “thank you,” at him.

“I made you something to eat, and then I was thinking we could watch something and call it an early night.” Bucky says, alternating before stroking his cheek and tracing patterns on his arm, something that always calms Steve down after he’s had one of his fever dreams. “How’s that sound?”

“I can’t promise I’ll stay awake during the movie.”

Bucky furrows his brows. “Who said anything about staying awake? Might just be nice to have something to fall asleep to.”

Steve nods, rubbing at his eyes with a yawn, “yeah, okay.”

Once Bucky hands him the plate, he climbs into bed next to Steve. Steve adjusts his position so he’s curled up against Bucky. He only really manages a couple of bites before he can’t eat anymore, and he finds himself nodding off. Bucky takes the plate from him and sets it down on his own nightstand, making a mental note to bring it into the kitchen once Steve’s asleep and he can move without bothering him.

Steve curls up into an even tighter ball, shivering a bit as Bucky pulls the blankets up and over his shoulder and kisses Steve’s cheek.

“Feel better, Stevie,” he says softly.

Steve mumbles something back at him, which is the last thing he remembers before drifting off.

#stucky #post serum Steve rogers #bucky #au #sickfic #fever #congestion #coughing #sorry this is so late bb #I hope you like it <3

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softsnzstuff · 2 years

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I see your intentional temperature taking and I raise you unintentional temperature taking.

A kiss on the head after work, running your hands through their hair, touching their cheek before a kiss.

The caregiver, concerned and taken aback, says “You feel a bit warm. I think you might be running a fever…”

The sickie seems to ponder for a minute. “Oh. So that’s why I feel so tired/achy/thirsty/cold…”

Caregiver leads them to bed or to the couch to get cozy, anticipating the wave of symptoms that will inevitably hit the sickie in the morning. 😮‍💨

#thinking about Eddie and Chrissy #where Eddie is sick and oblivious #and Chrissy is like bb boy no #sicknario #I’ve transcended #snzblr #fevers #temperature taking #sickfic thoughts

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urlocallesbiab · 8 months

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sorry to everyone who's been missing me/waiting for something from me, i've been slipping in and out of depressive fog for a week or two (and in general have experienced significantly worse depression than normal for a couple years, but that’s another story)

i long to get back, too; a lot of things to read and ideas to write and people to talk to. love y'all, take care

#signed: vika's ghost #also i've caught a cold so there's that too #terribly sorry for being overdramatic i'm just... tired of being tired and i wanted to talk about it a little bit #it's very important for me to talk about everything that's wrong with me. i tend to avoid that but now i'm trying to learn and to make peace #creative drive and ability to hold thought-out conversations keep slipping out of my graps and it kinda hurts more #— in a good cathartic sort of way but painful nonetheless — to remember what they felt like at all #i miss wanting to work on my wip and i miss having the attention span to write out headcanon and i miss having headcanons #and i miss talking to my fandom friends #(i did it just last week but i already miss it. it's one of the things i'd like to be able to do every day)#and i miss the ability to connect with art and i miss the ability to focus on written word and i miss commenting #and i miss discussing ideas and i miss interacting and i miss having fun. god i just miss having fun.#kp my apologies for not making much progress on bb&b; myself my apologies for not writing any of my other wips or outlines or posts;#da gc gang my apologies for not following up on any of the things; every fic writer whose work ended up in my to-read pile IM SORRY #jack & kp specifically i love your stuff #also jack my apologies for taking a While; & the rd gc apologies for never writing out any of the cool au thoughts i'd had after some point #really，i've been meaning to. everything requires way too much effort. everyone is so fun and i miss having fun #take care，remember me fondly，i'll be back，please stand by #if tomorrow morning i find this embarrassing i'll chalk it up to a fever or something.#idc i'm allowed to have it. world won't blow up if i'm embarrassing on the internet once or twice or honestly even forever #vikarambles #vent

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whisky-soul · 1 year

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Pedro's no longer listed on the Tonight Show website as a guest on January 11th. He must be too sick to travel.

#get well soon bb #pedro pascal #tbh if he had such a high fever last night he should be resting and not getting on a plane!#bella's going to be on the late late show tonight #I hate JC #but maybe I'll watch for them #the last of us #tlou press

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virtualxchaos · 9 months

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Title: Cold Hands and Flushed Cheeks

Rating: Mature (Only bc its RE)

Word count: 2,087

Chapters: 2/2 (complete)

Summary: “What am I going to do with you?” He murmured, mostly to himself, pressing a kiss to Leon’s temple. “I should lock you up for your own good,” he added absently, almost an afterthought.

“You’d never let me though, would you?”

#weskennedy #resident evil #leon s kennedy #albert wesker #mine #fanfic #fanfiction #resident evil fanart #both story and art are mine #I love this ship so much dammit #Leon x Wesker #Sickfic #bb has a fever

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whumpinggrounds · 1 year

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Best Attempts

CW: BBU general warning, male whumpee, pet whump, multiple pets, female whumper,

“Barnaby? Barnaby, where are you?”

There’s a tinge of irritation in Mistress Caroline’s voice, and Barnaby winces. He’s taking too long setting up the dining room, and he knows it, but there’s nothing he can do to fix it. He’s moving much slower today, his body aching when he tries to turn too quickly. His breathing is quick, raspy. His entire body feels too warm, skin on too tight.

Mistress Caroline rounds the corner, and Barnaby snaps as straight as he can. His posture isn’t perfect, but Mistress Grace doesn’t notice. Behind her, though, Pierce’s gray eyes narrow. The older servant evaluates Barnaby’s rigid body with a critical gaze, and Barnaby knows he’ll be hearing about this later. He returns his eyes to Mistress Grace’s face a moment too late, and he hears the disappointment in Pierce’s exhale.

“Barnaby, we have a very, very busy day today. I do not understand why such a simple task is taking you so long!”

Bowing his head, Barnaby takes the criticism. “I’m so sorry, Mistress,” he tells her, voice appropriately grave.

Tapping one high-heeled foot, Mistress Caroline lets out a sigh that ruffles Barnaby’s hair, even from a few feet away. “Don’t just apologize, Barnaby. Do better.”

“I will do better,” Barnaby promises her, and he knows his voice sounds a little too eager. Not professional enough for Pierce’s tastes. He tries to moderate it with his next words. “Mistress Caroline, I will do better.”

“Hmph. Start now. When you’re finished, we’ll want lunch. Something simple, I think. Dinner tonight will be fancy enough for me, I don’t need anything big.”

Barnaby nods, head still feeling much too heavy on his neck. “Of course, ma’am. A salad?”

The way Mistress Caroline’s voice lifts means she’s smiling, and Barnaby’s done well. “A salad would be perfect. Get to it, Barnaby. I’ll eat in an hour, in the sitting room. I have calls to make.”

With that, she clicks out of the room. Lingering for just a moment, Pierce hangs in the doorway. Then he takes a few steps forward, takes Barnaby’s head in his hands. With clinical detachment, he presses cool fingers to the space below Barnaby’s chin, then his forehead.

“A fever, Barnaby?”

As soon as he hears the words, Barnaby recognizes the truth of them. It slots into space so neatly that Barnaby feels stupid for not knowing earlier. “Y-yes, Pierce, I’m sorry-”

“Not your fault, son.” Pierce’s disapproval has subsided into something softer. Still gruff, but more forgiving now, and some of the tension bleeds from Barnaby’s shoulders. “Normally, I’d talk to Mistress and give you time off. With the dinner party…” Pierce shakes his head. “Not possible. Do your best. I’ll see if we have anything to reduce the fever.”

“Pierce?”

Mistress Caroline’s voice drifts down the hallway, and both men stiffen. With one apologetic look, Pierce is gone, and Barnaby is alone.

Barnaby does his best. He really does. WRU may have taught him how to work, but Pierce showed him how to take pride in it. So, Barnaby makes Pierce proud. He cleans the room, sets the table with painstaking care. The process lasts two, almost three times as long as it usually does, because Barnaby has to check and recheck his work. His hands are shaky and sweaty, and his vision keeps going hazy, out of focus.

But he sets the table. When that’s done, he turns to the kitchen, ignoring the way his body aches for rest. It’s salad. It’s putting a few things in a bowl. It’s just putting a few things in a bowl, that’s all –

There’s a high, unhappy voice calling Barnaby’s name, but it sounds very, very far away. “Barnaby! Barnaby, where are you?”

Then, much closer, a gruff, older voice. Known, but the emotion in it is unfamiliar. If Barnaby didn’t know better, he’d say that Pierce sounds sad. It’s his last, wondering thought before he passes out cold in the older servant’s arms.

“Oh, Barnaby.”

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday11 #i know i am running a day behind oops #fever #bbu general warning #wru #box boy #barnaby bb #male whumpee #female whumper #pet whump

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theclaravoyant · 1 month

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Buck crushing on Tommy Buck pointing out all the things Eddie and Tommy have in common one of those things being half naked men wrestling I literally cannot

#‘IS IT CIRCLED WITH A HEART AROUND IT’ MADDIE IM #my gay ass is having such a fever dream rn I am so exciteddddddd #buck is being so chill and normal 👌 👌 👌 ily bb #tv: 911 #buck #911 spoilers

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ceo-of-sloppy-men · 1 year

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Me: I am so normal about death stranding. No hyperfixation or any attachment to the characters here.

Deadman, mishandling BB: “we have to fix her”

Me: I think the FUCK NOT!

#death stranding spoilers #death stranding #bb 28 #she is my baby #my little helper #my adorable little one #and if you so much as TOUCH A HAIR ON HER HEAD #i already didn’t trust deadman #I have baby fever #and this game is not helping

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plz-and-spank-you · 2 years

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had to resist the baby fever real quick

#Oscar Isaac #baby fever #tw baby mention #a man holding an infant does nothing to me #BUT PLAYING WITH OR HOLDING A TODDLER #screaming #im too young broke and traumatized to be a parent #self awareness bb #he's so sweet

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xythlia · 10 months

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one of the best moments tho was the entire crowd singing have a sad cum perfectly & i break mirrors with my face in the united states

#then bb poison lock your doors hacker the fever & really the entire set list what am i saying

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susiequaz12 · 2 years

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Carrot Top 58- Worth It

Ahhh! It’s been so long since I’ve updated a chapter for this story. We last left off with Andrew starting his recovery from the second captivity with Splice. There’ll probably be only a few more chapters of the main story before I post just drabbles and snippets. Chapter 57. Masterlist.

CW: Recovery whump, talk about past injuries/torture, fever, hallucinations, blood tw, manhandling, some superpower whump, angst/fluff.

- - -

Micah woke and rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he heard the stirrings and whimpering of the boy. He sat up from the chair he had slouched in in the guest room of Tusik’s house. It was his turn to stay through the night, they were all rotating, but to be honest, nobody was getting much sleep.

It had been two days since the surgery, and Andrew had barely woken up for no longer than to try and get some solid food down, and to have his bandages changed.

He couldn’t walk, couldn’t speak. Dr. Tusik had explained that his body had gone into a state of shock and recovery. Every unnecessary function was put on hold as he tried to get back to a better state of being.

Andrew was whimpering now.

Those were sometimes the only sounds he’d make- when he was too asleep to feel the pain in his throat from making the noise.

Micah stepped near the bed, Andrew was squirming, his hands clenched in tight fists by his sides. He brushed the hair away from his face, and instantly knew what was wrong.

His skin was drenched in sweat, and burning hot to the touch. Micah pulled one of the blankets away, and got a cold wet rag, and a thermometer. He cleaned the boy’s face gently before draping it across his forehead.

Andrew’s lips parted easily and Micah was able to read the temperature on the little display screen. 101.3F.

Yeah, it was a fever.

In the dim light he could see Andrew’s eyes fluttering open and darting around.

“Hey- hey handsome.” Micah smiled.

Andrew’s face lightened at the sound of his voice and Micah relaxed for a little bit. He was always worried that mentally, Andrew wouldn’t be alright sometimes. There were times he’d wake up screaming, tearing at his throat, unable to understand where he was, or that he was safe. Or when he’d go back into that mindset Micah had found- of being obedient, submissive, trying to- to keep anyone from getting angry.

Micah had always noticed when Andrew kind of ‘went off’, into his own little space. It had happened a few times before when they were first getting to know each other, but now it all made a lot more sense.

He brushed a hand over Andrew’s, it was clenched into a tight fist.

“You’ve got a fever. I’ve got you though, it’ll be alright. Do you want to try and drink some water?”

Andrew’s eyes glanced to the cup and straw sitting on the nightstand and after a second he nodded.

Micah moved the cup to Andrew, pulling his hand up to support it with his own and helped navigate the straw into his mouth.

It took a moment, and Andrew winced as he swallowed, but eventually was able to keep down some of the liquid.

“Tusik says if you’re feeling up to it, tomorrow we might be able to try some tea, or some broth. That’ll probably help your throat a little too.”

Andrew nodded, his eyes darting off again for a moment before a shiver wracked through his body.

“Do you want the blanket back? You were burning up a second ago, I didn’t want you to overheat.”

He nodded, and Micah set the cup back down on the nightstand, pulling the blanket back over Andrew’s body. He leaned back into the pillows and Micah wiped the cool rag over his face once more.

“Don’t worry, we won’t let this fever get any worse. I’ve got you.”

Over the next two days, the fever did nothing but get worse.

It had tried to stay at 101.3, but eventually crawled his way between 102.9, and 103.4.

Tusik had been giving him plenty of fluids and medicine, they were monitoring him steadily, trying to keep him cool, keep him company and comfortable, but the fever would only slow for a little bit before starting to climb again.

Day five of the fever Andrew had woken up screaming.

His throat was so hoarse barely any sound came out, but you could hear the terror in his voice.

Justin had been the one to take watch that day.

He burst into the room to find Andrew huddled in the blankets on the bed, pointing to the side of the door Justin had just opened.

He glanced to the side- expecting to see, something- but there was just the empty wall.

“Andrew you’re- you’re okay. There’s nothing there.” He took a step further into the room but Andrew flinched, jolting back into the headboard.

His eyes followed some unknown shape until Andrew was filled with absolute terror.

Splice had been shot. Five times, apparently.

But Andrew hadn’t seen the gunshots. He hadn’t seen the man die- there was just a body lying on the floor.

So it made sense why the man would be standing in front of him at the foot of his bed. It was perfectly reasonable for him to be back here with another method of torment.

The man was bleeding. There were holes in his shoulder, his hip, chest, one in his leg and one in his arm.

Blood was pooling from him down to the floor, it spread to a clone as he let one separate from his body.

Andrew’s eyes played ping pong between the original Splice, and the clone.

They had matching bullet wounds- but only that evil glint shone behind one pair of eyes.

The two moved in tandem as Andrew’s heart began to race, he pulled himself further away, pressed tight against the headboard.

A third- and then a fourth clone appeared slowly, and they began surrounding the bed.

“Go away- please- I’m sorry-” his words were barely above a whisper- but they were there nonetheless.

The clones began to multiply- more and more until he couldn’t see the walls. There was just a swarm.

Blood was getting everywhere. It soaked into the sheets and stained the carpets.

The original Splice laughed, standing at the foot of the bed. He stalked closer before pulling Andrew away from the headboard and pinning his wrists together. He squirmed and wiggled to try and get away but there was nowhere he could move as Splice straddled his hips, holding him in place.

Blood from the bullet wounds dripped down onto Andrew’s face, and he sputtered and coughed.

“Get off of me!” He tried to scream. He tried to kick, but he was stuck. Trapped. “Don’t! Leave me alone- please! Please, I’m sorry! I’m sorry- don’t hurt me please-”

Only a few of the words were audible above the rasp in his voice but he muttered the pleas nonetheless.

More clones made their way onto the bed. They gripped his throat- pulled at his hair, held him down, as their blood pooled around him.

Andrew was drowning.

Andrew was thrashing around on the bed- yanking at his iv, throwing around the blankets, so Justin did what he thought was best.

He didn’t care if there might have been a better approach, in his instinct, the priority was keeping Andrew from hurting himself.

Justin climbed on top of the bed, and grabbed Andrew’s wrists as gently as he could. Though he was struggling and fighting, there wasn’t much strength behind any of it. He placed a knee on either side of Andrew’s chest, keeping his legs from thrashing about too much to protect his healing ankle.

Holding both of his wrists in one hand, Justin brought them to the front of Andrew’s chest. His free hand brushed his hair away, tilting his face gently to look in his own.

“Andrew you have to calm down or you will hurt yourself.”

“Get off of me!” Andrew whined. It was an attempt at a scream- a pathetic try that made Justin’s heart hurt. “Don’t! Leave me alone, please- please-”

“Andrew you’re hallucinating. The fever is making you see things.”

“Don’t hurt me- please- please- I-”

Justin flinched back a little, trying not to let the words get to him.

“I’m not going to hurt you. No one is going to hurt you. Can you- Andrew- can you look at me?”

He released the grip on his wrists once Andrew had calmed down, moving to cup his face in his hands instead, pulling his gaze away from his hallucinations.

The two boy’s met eyes, Andrew’s hands falling onto Justin’s wrists.

“Are you with me? You’re perfectly safe Andrew.”

Andrew’s gaze was finally present. Eyes were red and filled with tears, but the hallucinations were gone. He nodded and Justin smiled, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Fever can do some weird shit to you, huh?” Justin stated. “Sorry about uh- about grabbing you like that. I- I didn’t want you to accidentally hurt yourself.”

Andrew let out a small shrug, and glanced to the nightstand, motioning to his water.

Justin helped him position the cup and drink through the straw before Andrew fell back on the pillow. He grabbed the cool rag that had fallen off and drew some water from around him- re-dampening it before draping it back across Andrew’s forehead.

Justin moved to leave back out to the living room, but a small brush to his wrist turned him back.

Andrew’s eyes darted to the chair at the side of the room, gesturing for Justin to stay.

He nodded, and plopped himself into the armchair as Andrew drifted into another fever-induced sleep.

At day 8 his temperature had subsided slightly, dropping back to 102, but he had started vomiting blood.

It had happened after Micah had fed him some chicken broth. His stomach started churning, there were stabbing pains, and then it had splattered all over the bucket Micah had given him.

Dr. Tusik hoped it would have just been from the strain and damage to his throat. But after seeing it he knew there was something bigger going on.

Two hours later Andrew had a nosebleed. And then three more throughout the rest of the day.

They did everything they could for the next twenty-four hours to try and discover the reasoning behind all the bleeding.

Andrew’s fever had subsided in the days prior, but now he was looking weaker than ever. If they didn’t figure out what was going on soon, things didn’t look like they’d turn out very well.

“Do you think he could tell us?” Micah asked the doctor. “I know he’s on vocal rest, but he might be able to write it, or something. Couldn’t we get Ali here to, to read his mind?”

Tusik chuckled. “You kids always want to use your powers for the simplest of things. Sometimes the old-fashioned way is the best solution.” Tusik held up a pad of paper and a pencil.

Micah knelt next to Andrew’s bed. He looked almost as pale as when they had rescued him, and his hair hadn’t darkened at all, still staying at a pale blonde. He was more skin and bones then usual, and his eyes were red from tears.

“Hey, how you doing handsome?” Micah asked. Andrew glanced away avoiding his eyes. “We might be able to figure out what’s going on. Tusik has a couple ideas.” Andrew’s face seemed to light up a little at the thought of getting better. “We’d just need a little more info on exactly what happened. You don’t have to go into detail, but whatever you say will be able to help us figure out what’s wrong.”

Andrew thought for a moment- his eyes going off to that place he’d retreat to- before coming back, and giving Micah a slight nod.

“Alright, do you think you can write some of it down?” Micah helped Andrew sit up a bit more, placing the pad of paper in his lap and helping him grip the pencil.

Andrew’s hand shook as he held the pencil in front of the paper. He tried writing down the first word- but his grip wasn’t steady, and he couldn’t get a legible line down on the paper. He let the pencil fall with frustration and gently nudged it away.

“That’s alright, we can try something else. If you’re up for it.”

Micah grabbed his laptop from his bag in the armchair and opened up an empty word document.

“This might be better. You just have to hit the buttons. You willing to try?”

Andrew nodded. Micah retrieved the boy’s glasses from the nightstand, helping to adjust them on his face. Andrew blinked a few times, squinting to adjust to the brightness of the screen.

“You can start from the beginning if that helps. Or, just tell the important bits.”

Andrew nodded. The beginning. He’d just start from the beginning.

Came here, beat me

Micah nodded- he had seen the welts and the bruises along his legs. He watched as Andrew carefully found each letter one at a time, his hand shaking, but focus etched onto his face as he planned the next thing to say.

Heli- he began to type.

“Helicopter?” Micah asked. Andrew nodded, finding the next letter in order to continue. His free hand subconsciously floated to his neck, a thin band of discoloration resting above a handful of smaller scars.

Collar. Angry

“He got angry with you?” Micah asked for clarification. Andrew shook his head, mouthing a no, trying to figure out the best way to rephrase it. “Oh, he got you angry?” A nod. Micah glanced back at the screen, waiting for him to continue.

Fight. fall ankle he typed.

“You guys got into a fight, you fell and that’s how you hurt your ankle. What about- about the other one?”

Micah watched as Andrew’s eyes got lost again.

“Did he break it? You fell and hurt one and he- he broke the- broke the other one?”

After a moment Andrew nodded, moving his gaze quickly back to the computer.

system- chains

“System.” Micah whispered. “That’s the thing he had you all hooked up to when we got there? That was his system.” Micah clearly remembered the image of Andrew- strung up in all the chains and the metal cuffs- like some sort of medeival torture device. It seemed unnecessarily cruel. “What was it- what was it for?”

Dependence was the answer.

Micah nodded, letting Andrew continue as much as he wanted to. He saw the shake in his hand rise as he tried to type out the next word.

Hair- his hand fell against the keyboard. His eyes drooped.

Micah’s hand reached up towards the side of Andrew’s head, hesitating for a moment to initiate the touch. Andrew sighed and leaned in, placing his head in the boy’s palm. He closed his eyes.

Micah let his fingers comb through what remained of Andrew’s hair, rubbing gentle circles along his scalp. They hadn’t had a chance to cut it, or barely even wash it since he’d been home. What had once been a mop of gorgeous curls, falling around his shoulders- was now jagged and uneven, huge chunks missing and longer strands curling by his ears. It was a mess.

Micah continued to softly play with the boy’s hair as he continued to type.

Tube, lungs hurt, drugs

Andrew glanced at the other boy, watching the concern etch on his face, and when he didn’t ask any further questions, he continued.

Cut open. Left to bleed

Micah was staring at the computer screen- but Andrew was staring at Micah.

He had given this boy nothing. And yet here he was doing his best to help him, when he had no good reason to. He couldn’t tell this boy everything he had thought- how the idea of him made him grieve so much while he was in that place, that it put a fiercer ache in his chest than that machine had.

He couldn’t say how he loved him. They had never even kissed. And yet Andrew knew how he felt- he knew what he had imagined and longed for and wished while he was locked away- begging for death.

Micah didn’t deserve to deal with all that.

Micah didn’t deserve to deal with Andrew.

Andrew sniffled away a tear, and Micah moved his thumb across the boy’s cheek, wiping it away before anymore could fall. There had been too many already shed.

Andrew began to type again. The more they knew, the more they’d be able to help.

Took my blood- infused

Micah’s eyes grew wide. “An infusion- with what, Andrew? Do you know?”

His hands were visibly shaking even more. He shook his head at first, leaning into Micah’s touch. The smaller boy reached up, placing both hands along Andrew’s temples, rubbing gentle circles.

“Please Andrew- can you remember? Did he tell you anything?”

A headache began to form as Andrew focused- trying desperately to remember the bits and pieces of jumbled dialogue he had heard while he was floating in and out of unconsciousness.

The bags of blood- the numbers- the hours in between.

“You’re looking so beautiful for me. We’re halfway there.”

“Three more left, you’re doing wonderful.”

“Splice blood sample- 1/12”

Andrew’s eyes fluttered open in remembrance. The bits and pieces were floating all together like a puzzle/

His blood. 9/12 he typed.

Micah glanced up in realization. “Nine of twelve. We- we interrupted the procedure.” He whispered. “How long were- were you in the- in his system?”

Andrew shrugged, all the waiting and all the pain always warped his sense of time. All he knew is he arrived, got more beaten and bruised, and then he’d been in the contraption until they arrived.

Almost whole time he typed.

Micah nodded. He quickly grabbed a rag as Andrew’s chest started heaving, and Andrew held it to his mouth.

Stains of red quickly leaked through as Andrew coughed, his whole body shaking with the effort. Micah rubbed a gentle hand across his back until he was finished, offering him some water as well.

Andrew glanced off as he sipped, looking more exhausted and worn-out than usual.

“Thank you for- for telling me. It’ll help Tusik figure everything out.”

Andrew gave the cup of water back, leaning into the pillows as he tried to find a steady rhythm of breaths.

“We’ll figure this out. We’ll find out what’s wrong and get you better. I promise.”

Andrew shrugged. He was tired of all those promises. I promise I’ll keep you safe. I promise I won’t let you get hurt. I promise it’s all okay now.

But despite the good intent, they were never kept. He would never be safe. He was in constant pain, and it was just one battle after another after another. It was never okay. At this point, he couldn’t imagine everything ever being okay.

He let Micah grab his hand, he was too tired to pull away, but he couldn’t look at his face. That face filled with so much concern, and hope, and belief, that like he said, he’d get better.

“What’s going on?” Micah asked. “We will get you better.”

Damn it. Andrew hated that the other boy knew him so well already. He knew it’d be a shame if they’d used all this energy, and effort to get him back, to keep him safe, and have it all be for nothing in the end.

With his free hand he slowly reached the keyboard once more.

Tired.

Micah nodded. “I know. This is- this is progress though. Tusik can use it to help us figure out what’s wrong. He can use it to help you get better.”

Andrew’s fingers shook as they hovered above the keys. He didn’t dare type it. But he knew it was all over his mind. It was all he could believe.

Not worth it

Micah read those three small words and paused for a moment. Trying to find the best way to phrase his next moments. He grabbed the laptop and set it back in his bag.

“Listen.” He squeezed Andrew’s hand, the other coming to rest against the side of his face. Andrew couldn’t help but lean into the touch. “Listen please, I need you to believe me. You don’t need to now, but eventually.”

Andrew made eye contact when he heard the shake and the tremor in Micah’s voice. Their faces inches apart- eye-to-eye.

“You are worth it. You are worth the effort, and the time, and the energy it takes to get you better. You are twenty one for god’s sake. You have the whole rest of your life ahead of you. Do not let this define it, please. Do not let this end you.”

Micah leaned his head down- pressing his forehead against Andrew’s. Micah was nearly begging- his tears falling into the crest of Andrew’s hair.

“Don’t let this be it. There’s so much left in you- please.”

- - -

Tag List: @imagination1reality0, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @thehopelessopus, @burtlederp, @whump-me-all-night-long @laves-here @yesthisiswhump @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @brutal-nemesis @lunaabsentee @morning-star-whump @beatenbruisedandbloody @sowhumpful

#whump #whump writing #carrot top #Andrew and Micah #recovery whump #fever #hallucinations #blood #superpower whump #angst #fluff #it feels so good to be writing the story again #I have a few more chapters planned out for now #we're almost done bb les goooo

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