#ignore the peppersteak

[sarcasticmothdraws]

It is near 100°F in California

[redactedweasel]

Stomach Ache

CW is the title. It's entirely different but I couldn't help but think of Peppersteak the whole time.

At least, Keet thinks to himself when he has the mind to do so, he's not emptying his guts over the Shields railing again.

This ache is far more familiar - a knotted, rumbling thing born from accidentally eating something he should have avoided. He'd thought something in the texture of lunch had been a bit odd, but had shrugged it off.

Which was how he usually got in these situations.

As it stands, he's not quite to the point of sick - but his gut aches and twists enough that he almost wishes he would be. Instead, he curls and shifts and writhes in bed - alternates between clutching blankets close and trying to kick them away. Waves of hot-cold nausea roll through him, and he bites deep wounds into his pillow as he begs for this to pass.

He finally finds a position that's as close he can get to comfortable as he rides out the aching and cramping. He pants softly to himself - a sound that dips into a growl at sudden knocking at his door. Keet presses his eyes tightly closed, and curls a little further into himself.

He ignores the second knock, too - but it's harder to ignore the sound of Purple calling his name from the other side. They'll take the hint, he's sure, when he doesn't answer - but the thought makes him feel guilty.

He doesn't want to hurt them.

So, carefully, Keet unfurls and gets to his feet. He has to pause, and he grimaces as his stomach gives an especially angry twist. Once the sharpness passes, he takes a shaky, bracing breath, straightens, and moves for the door.

"Yeah?" Keet asks as he opens the door to find Purple standing there alone. He's barely looked to them before their eyes are moving, roving over his whole form - and Keet feels wary when Purple's mouth crooks in worry.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine…why?" Keet replies, even as a fresh cramp in his gut curls.

"Well, you're drenched, for one," Purple tells him. They reach for him and brush a few strands away from his face - and Keet hadn't even realized he was sweating at all until he feels a brush of cool air against his forehead. "You just look a little…rough. You sure you're okay?"

"I'm - I'll be fine," Keet says, sighing softly in admission. "Ate something that I shouldn't have, I guess. Just waiting for it to pass."

"Oh," Purple says, and they look him over again before giving a slight nod. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Keet shakes his head - and a fresh clutch in his stomach makes him shiver.

"No," he says, barely manages not to whine, "I just gotta…wait." Assuming the conversation is over, Keet turns and pads back to his bed. Figuring Purple will close the door behind them as they leave, Keet pays them and it no mind as he crawls once more onto his mattress. He curls onto his side, and tries in vain to find that almost comfortable position from before.

It isn't long, though, before he feels the bed dip with Purple's weight. Keet stills, and after a second looks over his shoulder at them. They're quick to give him a smile in return.

"Can I try something?" They ask - and even with as awful as he feels, Keet is loathe to send them away. And if they really have some sort of human trick that will help - well, Keet would take just about anything, right now. So he nods, and as Purple settles in to lay alongside his back, Keet lays his head back onto the pillow.

Purple tucks themself in close - and Keet can't deny that there's comfort in the heat of their body pressed up to his. It's nothing, though, compared to the feel of their hand as they lay their arm over his side, slip beneath his shirt, and rest their palm on his stomach.

It practically feels as if their hand is radiating heat - and the warmth of it over his aching middle is an almost immediate comfort. A long sigh escapes Keet unbidden, and as Purple starts to move their hand in small, slow circles over his abdomen, Keet sinks somehow both into the mattress and back more firmly against Purple.

It's no instant cure - Keet still tenses with the occasional angry twist or cramp - but it helps. It helps a lot - as Purple massages his aching stomach, Keet feels his muscles unwind. Without the tension, the waves of pain pass quicker, and as long moments pass - quiet, the only sound that of skin over skin - they come less and less.

Until, eventually, Keet feels mostly settled - a soft ache still pulses in his gut, but it stops flaring. Breathing comes easier, he stays loose and relaxed - and all the while, still, Purple continues to press warm and gentle circles into his skin. And, eventually and once again, Keet finds himself starting to drift - a relief, after so much distress.

"Thank you," He manages to murmur. As he lets his eyes fall shut, he feels Purple press their lips to the top of his head and hears them hum a soft noise of satisfaction in return.