#hope this is coherent I have the flu and my head is all foggy

[pallanophblargh]

Do the different species of aequis get along well? Do they have different cultures? Is their a religion they have created?

The types get along with each other to varying degrees: generally there are solid relations between all terrestrial types, and likewise with all arboreal types, but there is no hostility or real exclusionary behavior between any of the types. However, it’s probably an unspoken agreement that the wetlanders are the weirdest ones, though the tropical terrestrial types will have anyone know they never think that (likely closest allies to the wetlanders due to proximity). They probably all have some (relatively harmless) stereotypes about each other, but in general no harm is intended. ( “Arboreals are such gossips!” “Arctics are so out of the loop, aww,” and “grasslanders are such hopeless people lovers.”)

They have overarching culture that unite them all as Aequis, but there are also subcultures that are hugely influenced by region. All Aequis value cooperation, harmony, visual beauty, good sounds/music, family bonds/strength in community, respect for weather and elements, living in balance with nature, (and smiting the shit out of “gryphons” *cough*!) Also they collectively DO NOT like fire. Or lightning. Naturally, there are several daring/rebellious/questionably sane individuals who make their way through the world wielding fire, but in general, they give anything that has the potential to start fire a wide berth. I imagine there is a career reserved for “daredevil” Aequis that involves prescribed burns to woods or grasslands that have gotten overgrown. Aequis do believe in some degree of territory management, after all. 

Different types do have different subcultures, yes! All arboreal types have a culture that is closely tied to the massive trees and forests that they call home, they have close connections to plant life, fruits, and fungi.  Their culture rewards daring cunning more than others, since they exist in direct contact with the “gryphons” and their cleverness is what will grant them an upper hand. Social closeness/friendship is very important to them. Wetlanders’ culture revolve naturally around water, and the seasonal ebb and flow, being flexible and receptive to change, being calm and patient, and whenever possible, to guide those less fortunate through trying times. Desert types are similar in many respects despite living in opposite climates. Mountain and arctic types hold endurance, resilience, and feats of strength as ideals and don’t feel the need to embrace closely knit communities, though cooperation is always a virtue. Islanders praise bold exploration and daring excursion, as well as tight social bonds. They’re also fond of being acrobatic show-offs. Tropical terrestrials have an odd culture that seems split between “stealth-mode” while hunting and “look at me!” They have a strong affinity for music and regularly drum on logs and snags as part of social gatherings or breeding displays. Grasslanders are easygoing and laid back, but ever alert, and willing to lend a helping hand (claw!) when needed.

I’m trying to decide if they have an organized “religion” or more a loose set of beliefs/reverences. All Aequis respect the sun and the winds, of course, with different types paying their respects to different things. Arboreals, of course, tend to their trees with great care, Wetlanders revere their waters, etc. They see how all forces balance and celebrate it, mostly likely during solstice/equinoxes. I’ll definitely have to think on this more, especially on whether or not they have any creation stories.

[the-night-writer1]

Unforeseen Consequences Part 3

(this is a spicynoodleshipping fic if you haven't read the other two parts this won't make sense)

Red came too a few hours later, he glanced around the room and himself before spotting Mk holding his hand party on his side asleep. Red son looked at Mk confused for a moment.

How'd he get here? Mother would have preferred he be treated at the castle... Wait he left before she could get the castle doctor didn't he? Yeah he'd left with a bag of clothes. But how was Mk here?

Damm whatever was in the IVs made him way less foggy. Not that he didn't appreciate that noodle boy was here, Red son felt it been a thousand years since they last seen eachother. He was just confused, he figured if Mk found him in his sick ridden escape attempt, Red son just be dropped off. Not Mk holding his hand with the exhausted guilt ridden look on his sleeping face.

Red gently with his free hand removed Mk's head band. Sunshine knew better than to sleep with it on. Thankfully it was no problem to remove with a single hand.

"Red?" A voice said with a yawn from the other side of him. Red son turned his head to see Mei," how you feeling?"

".... better than I have been physically for the past week and half..." Red son said softly as he laid back on the bed and looked at the ceiling,"... What illness do I have that needs a stomach monitor?"

"Don't know" Mei said before yawning again,"doctor said he discuss it when you were coherent. He did say it didn't seem like cancer."

"good mother's going to be up my throat as it is for leaving as it is" Red son mumbled as he rubbed circles in to Xiaotain's hand,"He doesn't think I did this to get his attention does he?"

"no it's worse, he thinks he got you sick. I told him he was being ridiculous but you know how it is" Mei sleepily teased as she took Mk's head band from red son and wrapped around her wrist," he was apologizing to you the whole time we were coming here."

Red son sniffed the air and wiped his eyes, that was his sunshine alright. Blaming himself for stuff that wasn't his fault. For the love the Demon Bull king Red son had missed Mk so much. Even if they were still broken up he didn't care. He'd enjoy the little time Mk was willing to spend with him.

______

Iron Fan came to the hospital as soon as they got the call. Her husband having to wait outside due to his size. They both panicked when they'd returned to their child's room just to find an empty bed.

They were thankful he'd been found though she'd hoped he brought home instead of an E.R. He wasn't that sick was he? Oh gods was her poor baby that sick?

"we'd like you to stay here a few days so we could fully monitor you" The doctor said to her son as she opened the door. Red son nodded to him as Iron Fan walked in to the room.

She looked at the guest who'd beaten her to the punch. It was that fucking successor of Wukong's. The one who made her baby sick in the first place! She'd seemingly forgotten her own hand in this regard. He was holding her son's hand and rubbing his eyes.

" I'll back within the next few hours to run some tests. So try to rest and eat your breakfast which should arrive in 20 minutes. If you need anything page the nurses" The doctor said before he turned to walk out finally spotting Iron Fan. Red looked at Mk concerned he'd leave now that Mother had arrived.

"Is my baby alright? Why does he have to stay here for a few days" Iron Fan asked the Doctor. He sighed and had the demon follow him out into the hospital.

"Well ma'am he's seriously dehydrated and low on his vitamins for one. Secondly it's to make sure they both recover from stomach flu that caused him to throw up bile." The doctor said as he wrote something on Red's chart,"He shouldn't be moved either with how fragile he is at the moment with his IVs."

"We have doctors at home who can monitor him there. I don't see why any of them can't do the same as you"

"Ma'am with all do respect he already stated he rather stay in my care. Since he is an adult you can not sign him out without his content. I have other patients to look at" The doctor said somewhat annoyed as he left her in the hallway. Iron Fan was taken aback, Red rather stay in this cramped hospital than his own bed?

Surely the doctor was confused by what Red son said. He'd be more comfortable at home

___

"I don't know if I should tell them" Red son said to his beloved as he held Mk's hand. He was exhausted but at least Mk was still there. Noodle boy gently cradling Red son's face in his free hand.

"hey it's going to be okay you don't have to automatically tell them if you're not ready. We can focus on the small stuff first we still have time" Mk said as he rubbed Red son's cheek," I promise whenever you're ready we'll tell everyone okay?"

"alright noodle boy" Red son said as he nuzzled Mk's hand. At least he had his beloved back for the time being. Red son didn't know how long it last since he finally had an answer to why sunshine broke up with him so randomly.

"I'll be right here no matter what she says this time. Okay?" Mk said as he got up so he could give Red a proper kiss. If they'd gotten news before now it would have been better but he was still happy regardless. Red was more than than happy to receive said kiss as his mother opened the door.

"haven't you done enough to my poor son?" Iron Fan hissed breaking the kiss prematurely.

"shouldn't I be asking you that mother?" Red son hissed back as he pulled Mk onto the hospital bed," for convincing him to break up with me in the first place?"

Iron Fan froze, her baby had discovered the truth about the break up. Surely he understood why she did what she had to do right? He'd out live that boy plus that was Wukong's successor! He could do better!

"I think you should go update father I'll be here for a few days" Red son said coldly, in a tone he got from her. He didn't even turn his head to look at her, he was mad and upset she'd do this to him! Iron Fan was his mother and yet again she showed little support to his life choices. He done with it, he probably wasn't going to head home when the monitoring was over anyway.

"sweet boy I-"

"I don't want a lecture on I'm a disappointment mother just go" Red hissed before he shoved his face into Xiaotain's chest. Xiaotain held him close while glaring at Iron Fan.

Her baby boy thought she was disappointed in him? She did this so he'd get the best of the best. She stepped closer to the bed to try and get a word in with a gentle tone. However the staff soon blocked her attempt.

"He said to leave so go." The Monkie kid said with a almost snarl,"You've done enough. Leave him alone so he rest."

Iron Fan opened her mouth to say something then closed it. She'd really hurt her sweet baby boy hadn't she. She turned and walked out of the room closing the door gently behind her.

Dear gods what had she done to make him think she was going to lecture him about being a disappointment when he was clearly very ill? Why would that ever come to her son's mind? They were always proud of his achievements. Did...did they not show that enough? Were they to harsh on him? Surely he knew they loved him no matter what right?

She stood there for a moment thinking about it when she heard her baby boy cry through the door. Her heart sank in her chest. She was indeed the real reason he ended up so sick.

What had she done?

[elliotlikespuke]

Requesting a sick Nico? I don't care with what, I just want to boy to suffer. Please and thank you!

Hooooo boy I made him suffer. The good news about this is that it’s not likely contagious, but the bad news is that it’s probably bacterial meningitis. Normal flus don’t really cause this level of confusion. Boy was it fun to write this though. I really love the whole idea of “voyeurism” in terms of sickfics, having people watch a caretaker and a sickie, especially if the sickie would be embarrassed about it if they were coherent. Also I’m such such such a sucker for medic Will being a whole-ass medic and taking care of people in a practical way (not just a demigod magic kind of way).

You can probably tell that I’m hmmmm, pretty rusty at this whole “writing” thing.

Warnings: puke and rambling and reaaaaal rusty writing skills

“How long has he been like this?” Will’s voice rang out through the near-silent apartment. Nico was leaning on the back of the couch, either asleep or close to it. Sally sat on one side of him, Percy on the other. The Iris message was beginning to shimmer. Swearing, Percy threw in another drachma. 

“This is the third day,” Sally replied. “Well, the third day of throwing up. He just had a fever and a headache before then.”

Nico’s head lolled to the side on the couch, almost touching Sally’s shoulder. She put an arm up to guide it the rest of the way down, petting his hair and checking his forehead as she went. 

“He’s still burning up.”

“And he’s not keeping anything down?” Will’s voice was becoming tighter, more fraught with anxiety. He shifted on the desk chair he was sitting in. 

“Nothing.” Will’s reaction was making it hard for him to stay calm. After all the danger Nico had dealt with, this was what had Will worried? 

Will paused and looked towards something Percy couldn’t see. He mouthed something, and shook his head. “Uhh, okay. If he refuses to go to a hospital could you bring him here? I know it’s a long drive but I can only assume he’s dangerously dehydrated and—”

“We’ll do it,” Annabeth piped up from out of Will’s view. “It’s only a few hours. And we’ll speed.”

“Haul ass,”  Percy agreed, nodding. 

Will ran a hand through his hair. “Okay. I’ll see you soon.” 

Percy took a moment to think. Nico was in bad shape, still leaning against his mom and looking as pale as Percy had ever seen him. Annabeth was practically vibrating, getting things ready for a two-hour car trip. Paul was standing between the kitchen and the living room, holding a handful of plastic bags in case Nico needed them. Sally, bless her, was running her hands through Nico’s hair with a decidedly worried expression painted across her features. 

Percy caught his mom’s eye across the sofa. 

“I’m coming with you,” she said. Percy was going to protest, but as soon as he opened his mouth she said, “and that’s final. It’s snowy, and I’m a better driver than both of you.” 

For once, Annabeth didn’t complain about having her abilities questioned. Percy stood, and worked on getting Nico into a standing position. He hooked one of his arms around his shoulders and lifted. Nico was lighter than he expected. Between having no excess weight and having vomited for three days, he was rail thin. 

Percy had never been gladder that his parents had moved to a building with an elevator. It made the eight-flight journey while half-carrying a 15-year-old easier for everyone involved. Navigating the snow was harder. Over Christmas, the sidewalks had hardly been plowed, making their trek to the car frustrating for both of them. Nico, who just wanted to lie down, moaned incoherently until he was in the backseat of Paul’s Prius with Percy buckling his seatbelt.

Nico fell asleep almost immediately once they were on the road, his head propped against the foggy window. The peace only lasted the first half hour.

Nico’s bleary eyes cracked open. His head fell to one side and then shot up straight, suddenly alert. 

“‘m gonna throw up,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with sleep and sickness. He put one hand to his mouth and the other flailed, looking for one of the bags Paul had packed for them.

“Fuck! Hold on!” There was a rustling noise as Annabeth tried to free one of the bags from the tangle of them at her feet. Nico made a muffled, urgent sound against his hand and grabbed for the button on the car door. While his window rolled down, Sally slowed to a stop on the side of the highway. Before it was all the way down, Nico lurched. It was the closest to projectile vomiting he had come since he’d been sick. He barely managed to make it out the window while he sprayed sick from his chapped lips. He let his head fall, and it hung limply as he retched, painting the Prius with yellow bile. Between painful sounding retches, Nico gasped for air. The difficulty of simply breathing was audible. 

Percy looked anywhere but beside him, unlike Sally, who was staring at Nico’s back with pursed lips. 

“Pat his back,” she whispered to Percy. Percy was certain Nico was going to recoil at his touch. But then he didn’t. He continued to heave for another few minutes, with Percy rubbing his back. Even through the thick knit sweater (donated by Paul when Nico had started shivering with fever), Percy could feel every vertebra. Most horribly, he could feel Nico’s taut back muscles tensing, and hardly ever releasing long enough for him to relax.

When all was said and done, Nico brought his head back into the car and collapsed against the headrest. 

“Sorry,” he whispered. His voice was broken by the gurgling is his throat. Annabeth passed him a water bottle from the front seat. “It won’t stay down.”

“I know, but it’ll get the taste out of your mouth.” 

Nico fumbled with the cap for a moment before passing it to Percy, who cracked it with ease. Passing it back to Nico, he caught the blush on Nico’s cheeks. The needy, vulnerable Nico was new to both of them. 

With Nico back in the car, they set off again. Nico kept his eyes closed, but Percy was fairly sure he was awake and trying to coax himself into not being sick again. The rapid movements of his Adam’s apple gave him away. 

Percy wished they could turn on some music, or at least that he could join in Sally and Annabeth’s conversation, but they were speaking so quietly he could barely hear. The rest of the drive passed slowly with nothing to do but play games on his phone. Every few minutes, Nico would cough weakly, and Percy could hear the rattling breath in his lungs trying to escape. It was a pitiful sight.

Finally, they arrived at the base of the hill. Getting Nico out of the car was a harder matter altogether, and Percy had to wrap his hand in a plastic bag to avoid touching the bile now frozen to the door. Halfway up the hill, Kayla met them.

“Want some help?” She didn’t wait for an answer before she grabbed Nico’s other arm and helped Percy march him towards the infirmary. Sally and Annabeth were continuing their conversation behind him, though he couldn’t hear what they were saying over his and Kayla’s panting and the groans from the sick boy suspended between them.

Percy wondered idly if Sally had ever seen the infirmary. It had been updated even since Percy had last been there. Nico had told him it now boasted a tv that Will had fought for, claiming that boredom was pushing people out of the infirmary faster than they should be leaving. Percy suspected it was mostly for the staff’s benefit. 

Despite the lack of snow inside the campgrounds, the wind was still biting. Nico had thrown off his coat in the car, and he shivered so violently Percy thought he might drop him. 

Standing in the door of the infirmary was Will, his arms crossed over his chest to shield him from the cold. He wore blue scrubs, as he usually did when he was in the infirmary. The colour of the uniform set off his eyes, as did the red rim around them. The late hour seemed to hit Percy all at once. It was past midnight.

The group trudged over the threshold, and Kayla pulled Nico, and Percy with him, towards a bed. Will followed behind, trying his best to move with purpose and not look like a lost puppy. 

“Hey guys,” Will greeted belatedly. “Merry Christmas.”

There was a chorus of ‘Merry Christmas’ around the infirmary, and Will turned to Sally. 

“I’m Will, uh, by the way.” 

“We iris messaged a few hours ago.” Sally smiled back at him. He looked temporarily embarrassed until Sally said, “but it’s good to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“All good I hope?”

“All good.”

Will didn’t seem to hear the answer. Once Nico was lying in the bed, everything else seemed to fade away from Will’s vision. He strode over to the bedside to pull two rubber gloves from a box against the wall, and pulled over a rolling chair. 

“Kayla can you get, uh, a one litre bag of saline and a secondary bag of acetaminophen drip? I’m going to do an IV.”

Kayla nodded, happy to be bossed out of the room. Behind the curtains was crowded, and she didn’t think she could stand an awkward meeting-the-family moment between her brother and his boyfriend’s aunt.

“Hey,” Will said quietly to Nico. He grunted, but didn’t open his eyes. Will pursed his lips. He seemed all too aware of the eyes of everyone on the back of him, and his neck prickled uncomfortably. 

“Hey,” he tried again. “Can you open your eyes?”

Nico’s eyes fluttered open, and Will rushed to praise him. “Can you squeeze my fingers?”

Will slipped two of his fingers into Nico’s hand. Through the gloves he could feel how clammy they were. “Go ahead, break my fingers.” Nico smiled weakly and gave a watery cough. “There. You got it.”

Will brow was furrowed, but Nico’s was utterly relaxed for the first time since he’d begun vomiting. He pulled his fingers out of Nico’s hand and Nico whined. Everyone in the room, bar Nico and Will, glanced around uncomfortably. It seemed an intrusion to see them like this. 

Will reached a hand into a drawer by the bedside and drew out an infrared thermometer. The infirmary had gained some new toys since Will had become head medic apparently. There was no chance these were Chiron’s ideas. The worry was palpable in Will’s voice when he announced to the room, “104.3. Has he had any fever reducers?” 

“He threw up every time we tried to give him any.” Sally’s voice was taking on Will’s anxiety. 

Kayla came back into the room, holding several clear bags of liquid. She deposited them easily on a tray and slid it beside Will, drawing over an IV pole. 

“Get some cooling blankets.” Will’s voice had become harder, his medic side lashing out. He set to work cleaning the inside of Nico’s wrist and sliding a needle into a vein. His lower lip was held tightly between his teeth as he worked. Nico protested as valiantly as he could, which ended up being another whine and a slight shift of his arm, which was unable to move much in Will’s vice-like grip. He quickly arranged the IV tubing like he had done it a hundred times before which, Percy thought, he probably had. 

“It’s a good thing he’s so out of it for that. He usually fights tooth and nail when he has to get a needle,” Will was saying as Kayla entered the room.

“Usually Will can’t do it himself because Nico needs him to hold his hand.”

“More like break my hand.” 

The group smiled, except for Will, who remained as tightly wound as ever, staring at the tiny body on the infirmary bed. Kayla arranged the cooling blankets around Nico while Will turned to Percy, Annabeth, and Sally, who were still standing at the end of the bed holding their coats.

“Might as well sit down,” Will told them. “He’s going to be here for a while.”

Graciously, everyone sat down. While Will and Kayla debated over treatment options and tests, Sally looked at Nico. He was still sweaty, his eyelids fluttering now that Will was not touching him. She wondered just how long they’d been like this, able to calm each other with only a touch. Given reports by Percy and Annabeth, and vigorously refuted by Nico, it had been almost instantaneous from the moment they were friends. It was no surprise to Sally they had ended up together.

“He seems to know what he’s doing,” Sally whispered to Annabeth, who nodded.

“He’s got a gift. He modernized everything here. He’s doing good things.” 

Sally realized something suddenly and interrupted Will mid-conversation with his sister. 

“Why haven’t you given him any nectar or ambrosia?” She hadn’t meant for it to sound accusatory. Luckily Will, with all his preoccupations, didn’t seem to notice and took the question in stride.

“He shouldn’t consume anything orally until we get his stomach under control. Plus, it’s a fifty-fifty shot if those will work on sicknesses. They work great on injuries, but sometimes it’s not enough. That, and it raises your body temperature. Nico’s brain is already being boiled inside his skull, and to give him anything like that might give him permanent brain damage.”

Him and Kayla looked at each other quickly and without a word she handed him a pen from the pocket of her scrubs. Will pushed himself towards Nico and clicked the pen. For one stupid moment, Percy was sure it was going to turn into a sword. Instead, a bright light appeared on the end. 

“Nico, can you open your eyes?” It was shocking to hear Will speak like that. He was all business, ordering Kayla to fetch him things or telling everyone to sit down, but his voice softened considerably and took on a cooing quality when he addressed his boyfriend.

Nico groaned. He as if he were swimming through hot jello. Every one of his muscles seemed to weight twenty times what it usually did, and the thought of opening his eyes made him want to sob. Gingerly, he opened one eye, just as he had done before. He had done it before, right?

“Are you experiencing light sensitivity?” Will asked him. Nico could hardly respond, so he groaned. Will slid a thumb onto Nico’s eyelid and held it open, shining the light into it. Nico could feel his eye watering from the wasted effort of closing it against Will’s thumb. After what felt like an hour of a knife being pushed directly into his right eye, Will switched to the other one. 

“Pupillary response is normal and equal,” he said to Kayla. He turned to the rest of them. “That’s a good sign. It means that his brain is still responding correctly to certain stimuli, which means that there’s little chance of damage.”

He sat back in his chair, dropping his face into his hands for only a moment before he heard a choking noise. Sally yelped, and stood to help. He looked towards Nico, who was trying (and failing) to swallow back his gags. Acting on a whim, Will grabbed Nico’s shoulder and rolled him towards himself, placing one hand on his back and the other in his hair while Nico’s gags finally became productive. He coughed, splattering Will’s scrubs with bile. After a gasping breath, he heaved again. This time the sick dribbled out of his mouth and onto the pillow below his head, coating his cheek in it too.  He burped sickly and gave a great, groaning cough. 

Will, who had been murmuring encouragements to him the whole time, grabbed a tissue from beside the bed and began wiping his mouth. Nico didn’t seem to notice. He just kept mumbling, “I don’t want to throw up anymore. Please make it stop. Make it stop. Please.”

Percy’s heart broke for him. He shouldn’t mention this to Nico when he was coherent, or he’d probably be turned to stone with a single glare, but despite the awful situation, seeing Nico being looked after filled him with comfort. He had spent so long being alone and uncared for. As long as Will was around, he’d never have to face that again.

[yoireverse]

sick day

((hello again, my friends. i come bearing more fluff, hahaa, because i am obsessed. ♥♥♥ this takes place abt 2 months after sleepyhead.))

summary: Victor is the first to get sick, and Yuuri responsibly makes soup. The next day, both of them text Yuri Plisetsky to let him know that they are dying.

Later, Yuuri coughs and manages to send the teenager an SOS message. We need crackers and nail polish remover. I will give you 600 rubles. You're our only hope.

When Yuri finally makes it to their place, face mask secured on his ears, he chokes at the scent of death inside and rolls his eyes at the sight of the two skaters groaning, albeit with gloriously lacquered nails. word count: ~1.9k rating: g ✮read on ao3 | ✮reverse au fics | ✮reverse au art | ✮rev au q&a open! →my main blog | →em’s art blog

Victor starts coughing one afternoon at practice and Yuuri gives him a sour look. He's been watching Victor from the sidelines today, trying to make sure he can see exactly where Victor's rhythm isn't lining up with his musical composition. When Yuuri looks closely, he can see that Victor looks a little more flushed than is strictly typical, so he raises a hand and summons his pupil off of the ice.

The taller man is panting, adjusting his bun, and Yuuri tells him to lean against the signboards. Before Victor can blink and tiredly ask his coach what he's doing, Yuuri takes left glove off and puts a cool hand to Victor's forehead.

It's sweaty, yes, and Victor colors lightly because of the contact, but his temperature is unbelievably high. Yuuri sighs as Victor sheepishly smiles. "Why didn't you tell me that you weren't feeling well, Victor?"

Victor leans his head on Yuuri's shoulder and sighs dramatically. "I wanted to practice anyways. I'm not feeling that bad! I've been to competitions with worse fevers!"

Yuuri scowls at his fiancé and Victor bows his head like a droopy puppy. "We're going home." Victor claps his hands together and whines before Yuuri slaps him heartily on the back and the taller man mutters under his breath instead. Yakov and Yuri cast them glances as they pack up, Victor's coughs and sneezes picking up in volume as they leave the rink.

They make a quick stop at the grocery store before heading back to their apartment. Yuuri makes a simple chicken soup with some of the leftovers in the fridge. Every since he'd made Victor hurry into his pajamas and crawl into bed, the younger man has been napping fitfully. Yuuri wakes him up in the evening to eat quickly, and nervously sidles next to him after he feeds Yukachin and takes him out for a walk to pee.

It's nerve-wracking, because Yuuri's never had to worry about staying arm's length from his partner, but Victor's sick. The tactile silver-haired man needs space to wheeze throughout the night, and he'd fuss if he got Yuuri sick as well.

Yuuri claps his hands together for a silent wish for Victor's help and hopes that anyone is listening, because he can't bear to see his student and rival remain ill.

//

Yuuri wakes up with a cough and Victor hoarsely says, "Oh no." The two of them go on their morning run together even though they feel bogged down by grogginess and slight fevers. They down medicine and swallow down soup lazily, but by the third day of Victor's passing bug, Victor is totally down for the count, and Yuuri isn't much better. They text Yuri Plisetsky to let him know they won't be at practice again, and he tells both of them that they can piss off, but what else is new.

Both of them barely manage to drink water and force each other to sit up for short bursts of time, just to make sure they still can.

That afternoon, while their eyes are crossing, Yuuri slurs his words and says, "We should, mm, do something. That'll make us stay awake." He toys with the ends of Victor's long hair, smiling in exhaustion, the flu-born flush creeping over his nose. "You've been sick longer, so you choose."

"Really?" Victor babbles, aiming to pick Yuuri's right hand up to kiss his ring. Instead, he fails miserably and falls down on the wooden floorboards, missing Yuuri's arm entirely. Yuuri giggles when Victor groans. "I wanna do your nails."

"What, like clippin' them?" Yuuri hums, patting Victor on the side and smiling fondly down at him.

"Noooope," Victor sings lazily, turning Yuuri's hand over in his own. "Gonna paint 'em all nice. Gonna put your name on mine."

"Okay," Yuuri replies, slumping next to him on the floor, threatening to doze off, which is the opposite of what they want right now. "You get the polish?"

Victor mumbles something, groggily stands on unsteady legs, and pads off to the bathroom. He comes back and gently pokes Yuuri's leg, startling the older man back to full wakefulness. Yuuri sits up with a yawn, rubbing eye crud out of his lashes. Victor pulls his hair back with a scrunchy from his wrist and sneezes for a moment before clicking bottles together in his collection. "Blue's your favorite color, right?"

"Yep," Yuuri quickly answers, head lolling a bit as he tries to focus on Victor's adorable little pout instead of the tilt of the room in his vision. "Yours is pink, right?"

"Absolutely," Victor says, picking bottles up while Yuuri blinks and folds his legs. Yuuri watches him look for the perfect colors for a moment before lifting himself up and going to grab a rag from the laundry room. As soon as he sets it down on the floor, Victor seems to have chosen the correct blue and the shade of magenta he wants to use.

He sets to work on Yuuri's nails first, scoffing as he quickly trims them and plucks Yuuri's hangnails sharply. "You need to get manicures more often, Yuuri."

Yuuri rolls his eyes. This is about the fiftieth time his lover has told him so, but the older man is not inclined to listen to Victor's blistering advice, and especially so while both of them are incredibly ill.

The soothing sound of the clippers and the filer almost lull Yuuri back to sleep. Victor sneezes twice and tries to hum, but then gets frustrated with his congestion. As soon as he's ready to start painting, Yuuri's eyes open blearily and his dark eyes follow the foggy-eyed determination that Victor wears as well as his sweaty blush.

His hands are shaking a bit as he moves the brush over Yuuri's nails, layering primer first, then color, and then sealer gloss. The finish is far more professional than Yuuri himself could have accomplished, and he watches Victor finish the job in awe. Yuuri waits until Victor tells him that he's free to do whatever he wants, because the polish is finished, and he sends Yuri Plisetsky a message in his haze.

Victor is trying valiantly to paint his own nails but he's also coughing up a lung, and Yuuri is too tired to get both of them something to drink. He complains that he's running out of nail polish remover and cotton balls, but honestly his voice is turning into white noise now. Yuuri barely types a coherent text.

Yura. We need crackers and nail polish remover. I will give you 600 rubles. You're our only hope.

Immediately after he sends it, Yuuri looks up at Victor with a curious expression. Victor pats his lap with a dopey smile and Yuuri crashes as soon as his head hits Victor's thigh and the younger man lets out a noise of slight discomfort.

He falls asleep with half of his nails painted and almost forgets to properly twist the cap back onto his favorite magenta polish.

//

Yuuri had given the teenager a spare key to their apartment immediately after they'd moved, but this doesn't stop him from making a ruckus as soon as he stomps in and sees them sprawled out all over each other, breaths shallow and faces covered in sweat. They look like a hot mess, with tissues scattered all over the floor and nail polish bottles splayed haphazardly over the floorboards.

"The fuck is this?" Yuri's words make the men blink away in exhaustion, both of them coughing and wheezing as the blonde helps them up and shoves them into the kitchen. He looks in the fridge, finds the soup, and heats it up, plating the crackers on separate plates. Victor and Yuuri are barely talking, which the teenager knows is the true sign of illness for them.

He puts spoons on all of their dishes and puts his palms down on the table. "Now hurry up and eat while it's hot. I'm not babysitting you shitheads all day."

"Thanks, Yura," Victor sing-songs, slurping his soup languidly, humming at the taste of Yuuri's soup, even though it's all he's been eating for three days.

"Is it okay?" Yuuri flicks his dark eyes up at Yuri, who scoffs.

Yuri standoffishly replies, "It's okay," before shoveling the broth in by picking up the bowl and hurrying to get more. Since the two of them are sick and have low appetites, they just let him eat his fill.

As soon as the older men are finished, about ready to fall off and pass out at the table, Yuri takes the time to hike them over his shoulders one at a time, helping them stumble to their bedroom. Once they're tucked in, he turns on the TV and shouts, "I'm staying to watch my shows and then I'm going home! No dying."

Victor and Yuuri groan something unintelligible back at him, so he just clicks his tongue and surfs channels.

//

Yuri helps them air out the room and take their medicine, staying at Victor and Yuuri's apartment until the sun begins to set. They see him off, and he hikes his bag over his shoulder. "You two better hurry and get your asses back to practice or you'll regret it!! Now stop being sick. Bye!!"

As soon as he's gone, Victor sits with Yuuri on the couch, still tired, but he feels phenomenally more aware. Yuuri looks like he feels the same way. It's still warm from where the blonde had been sitting.

"He's a good kid," Yuuri says, shifting so that Victor can lean fully against him, lips warm on Victor's lightly feverish crown. "We should keep him around."

"Once I get his volume under control, he can stay," Victor breezily responds, making Yuuri laugh. The sound jostles through his chest and Victor feels warm, but this time, it's not because he's fighting off the flu. "How do you feel? You think we can make practice tomorrow?"

"If you're up for it, I'm up for it." Yakov will give both of them mouthfuls for missing so much practice, especially since Yuuri is such a doting coach to Victor. "Let's give it our best shot."

For now, the two of them doze on the couch, then move to the bedroom in the middle of the night, hands linked the whole time.

//

They are still tired and slightly sick when they come to the rink, but Yuuri comes with a special surprise for Yuri Plisetsky.

He makes all of them lunch, neatly packs it in cases, and gives one to Yuri with a weak smile and the six hundred rubles he'd promised. Yuuri says, "We're feeling better now, thanks," before he heads to a bench to put on his skates.

Once Victor and Yuuri are out of sight, the teenager opens it to find a cute cat made out of - god, who knows, lunch meat or something - on top of a bed of rice, and an array of other bite-sized things next to that. He smiles softly to himself until he hears Mila's voice and snaps the lid back in place.

When he gets sick a couple times later, Yuuri and Victor come to Yakov and Lilia's house, dote on him relentlessly, and paint his nails black, per his request.

Yuri Plisetsky hates getting sick, but he begrudgingly admits that it's not so bad with company.