#sicktember alt prompt

[newwwwusername]

Fic title : I Can't Feel it When You Kiss My Hand (I'll Kiss You on the Head Instead)

@sicktember 2023 prompt : Forehead Kisses

Rating : General Audiences

Fandom : Helluva Boss

Pairings : Fizz/Asmodeus

Additional tags : Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Affection, Forehead Kisses, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Amputee Character, Soft Asmodeus | Ozzie, Cute, Good Significant Other Asmodeus | Ozzie

Word count : 339

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

Sicktember #26

Prompt: Pinkeye/Conjuntivitis ALL ALTS (Alt 1. “I Could Really Use a Hug Right About Now”//Alt 2. Fuzzy Socks//Alt 3. Pounding Headache//Alt 4. Forehead Kisses//Alt 5. “I’m so sorry”)

Fandom/OCs: OCs Shane and Molly (Doctor Nurse ‘verse?)

Words: 1180

Sicknario inspo: "Something happen at work?" from this post and "You look… I know…" from this post.

Author’s comments/background: Since I only had one space for an Alternate prompt this year, and they were all cute, I made it a mini challenge to use them all, and who better to do that for than Shane and Molly? I was pretty happy with the result, and this ended up being another piece that I was really looking forward to writing. I actually saved it for last as a reward for finishing the challenge. Have the usual married-people-who-are-crazy-about-each-other shenanigans. (Also some of the ending dialogue was shamelessly stolen from the D/ick Van D/yke show and I'm not sorry.)

Set the day after the events of “Without You” (read it here), which takes place within the first year of their marriage. 

~~~***~~~

Molly was deep in thought about what Shane might like for dinner, so when she turned to find him walking through the door a full three hours earlier than usual, at first she thought she was imagining it. Their eyes met and, probably because she looked so shocked, he attempted a smile to put her at ease, but the obvious sickliness of him made her worry all the more instead.

"Shane! You're home early. Did something happen at work?"

"Hihh– hihhggIHHTCHHOO! IHHXXCHOO!... Ugh…"

"...Oh. I see. Yeah, I can definitely see. Wow, you look–"

“I know,” Shane mumbled, swallowing thickly as he massaged his temple. “I know… HihhxxEHHPTchuhh!! Oh my god," he groaned, pressing his hand even harder to his head. "I have had the worst pounding, splitting headache all day and the sneezing is NOT helping…." 

"Aww, honey… why don't you sit down and take it easy for a while?"

"I will, but first… I know I'm contagious and everything but… I could really use a hug right about now." He dropped his bag and opened his arms imploringly. 

"Oh, you poor thing, of course you can have a hug!" She hurried into his arms, squeezing him as tightly as she could, and he squeezed her back until her ribs cracked, his face buried against her neck.

"I had the most godawful day," he mumbled, sounding almost on the verge of tears. "I felt like shit and the staff were all crabby and being petty and the schedule was screwed up again and the patients were horrible. I just need to be home with you."

"My poor baby," she said, kissing his temple and neck and shoulder and every other bit of him that she could reach. Then she held on and squeezed tight, just the way he liked. They hugged for a long time.

"Are you cold, hon?" Molly asked after several minutes. She already knew the answer to that question since she could feel him shivering, but he was sagging most of his weight on her, and her hugging muscles were starting to get tired. 

"Freezing," he murmured into her neck.

"Here, let's go sit down and wrap you up. You look exhausted."

"I'm that too," he agreed, letting himself be led to the couch. Molly quickly tucked a blanket around him, dress shirt and all, and he nestled into the cushions with a sniffling sigh. She perched right beside him. 

"Do you think you have a fever?"

"I really don't know. This cold wasn't so bad before today. I have no idea."

Molly leaned forward, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. It was hardly there a second when Shane twitched violently, bending forward in a half-stifled sneeze that clearly snuck up on him:

"Hihhgg-KXXT! XXTchhoo!!"

Molly was thoroughly caught in the spray. She carefully kept her expression neutral so as not to make him feel any worse as she turned away from his horrified look to wipe off the mist from her cheek and hand.

"Ohmygod, Mol… I am so sorry… I can't believe that just happened…." 

Shane continued to stammer apologetically as Molly turned to face him again, stopping him with a gentle squeeze of his leg. "It's okay, love, really. I know you didn't mean to. It happens. No big deal. Now, let's try that again."

Shane fell silent, though his apologetic expression lingered, as Molly again reached out to feel his face. "You didn't sneeze on any patients today though, did you?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood with gentle teasing.

"No, thank god. That's about the only thing that didn't go wrong today."

"Well that's good," she said, pulling away. "And you're definitely warm. Feels like a fever to me."

"That tracks, to be honest"

"With what?"

"Everything, I guess. How crappy I feel, mainly. The rest of this awful day."

"My poor Shane," she groaned, going in for another hug. "I hate seeing you like this. I'm supposed to be the one that does all the complaining, not you."

"Sorry. But I was overdue for a turn," he mumbled into her chest.

"I dunno about all that. But we'll get you fixed up and back to normal either way." She released him, meeting his eyes again. "You pick the order of operations tonight. What do you want first, shower, dinner, blanket cuddles, or bed?"

A sleepy smile spread across Shane's face. "All the choices are too good. You pick. You're the boss tonight."

"You're either very brave or very sick to say such things, my love. But your wish is my command. We'll go in the order I listed them, I think. I can't stand to see my human furnace shivering so hard, so we'll start with a hot shower, and you can even have the brand new fuzzy socks you just bought me, since I know you can't resist fuzzy socks when you're sick."

Shane was grinning now. "As long as you shower with me. There's always a risk of syncope with a fever, you know. You can never be too careful, especially in the bathroom."

"Right you are. You read my mind. Don't you worry, I'll be keeping a close eye on you. Everyone knows doctors make the worst patients." 

"Whatever you think is best, nurse," he said with a pathetic sniffle.

~~~

The couple settled into the rhythm of their evening routine, though they took it especially easy for Shane's sake and, true to her word, Molly hardly left his side. Shane was clingy and a little needy when he wasn't feeling well, but as long as she stayed within reach, he was in truth a very easy patient. 

A few hours later found them curled up on the couch with takeout soup and salad for an early dinner, watching Shane's favorite, the Jurassic Park trilogy. They were lightly reclining, Shane leaning partially against Molly with a tissue box under his arm as she toyed with his blond curls. When she thought he was distracted, she leaned over to press her lips to his forehead.

Shane was sharp, though, and eyed her with a curious look. "Was that for affection or were you checking my temperature again?"

"Sick person forehead kisses are always both, you should know that. Your eyes are looking funny, so I was seeing if it was worth it to get up and get you medicine or not."

"I'm okay. You don't need to do that."

"Hey, I warned you that I'd be keeping an eye on you. This is part of the package, mister."

"I know, I know," he chuckled, scrubbing at his nose. "But I don't want you to get up. I'm too comfortable, and I haven't been able to say that since you left for your trip. You're not allowed to move. Sick person orders."

"Aye aye, sir." Molly resumed playing with his hair, and Shane sighed in contentment. 

"What would I do without you?" he murmured, echoing back to the day before.

"I promise you'll never have to find out as long as I'm living," she whispered back, pulling him closer against her.

[crimsonwolf715]

Health Scare

{Things to note: Nighteye didn't die in this fic.}

Izuku Midoriya (Deku) wakes up in a hospital bed. He blinks several times, trying to remember how he got there. 

“Young Midoriya,” Toshinori Yagi (All Might) exclaims, walking into the room. 

“Dad? How did I get here?” Izuku asks. 

“You were out with Young Bakugo and you collapsed.” 

“Like for lunch?” 

All Might nods. “I’m going to go get Inko.” 

It only takes a minute of being alone for him to really process the information All Might gave him. 

I was out to lunch with Kacchan? I don’t even remember waking up this morning? How did I get all the way to lunch with Kacchan?  

“Izuku, get out of your head.” 

Izuku looks up and sees Katsuki Bakugo (Lord Explosion Murder God Dynamite, normally shortened to Dynamite) walking into the room. 

“Even breaths.”

Izuku notices that his breathing is erratic. He slows his breathing down as Bakugo sits down in one of the chairs next to his bed. 

“Thanks, Kacchan.” 

“Don’t mention it. Your parents are on their way.” 

“What happened?” 

Bakugo sighs. “You were acting odd, but you said that it was a lack of sleep. I knew you were full of it, I just figured that it was something emotion based so I’d pry it out of you. On the way to the restaurant, you passed out. I caught you so we don’t have to worry about you having a head injury because of the fall.” 

“Maybe I forgot to drink water again,” Izuku jokes. 

“If you did, I’ll freaking murder you,” Bakugo replies, folding his arms. 

Izuku laughs nervously and shifts. Inko Midoriya (Izuku’s loving mother) rushes into the room. 

“Izuku!” 

“Hi, Mom,” Izuku says as his mother gently hugs him while crying. 

Izuku leans into Inko’s hug, desperately searching for comfort and security in it. When the hug ends, he contemplates asking her for another hug. He decides against it and settles for her holding his hand. All Might sits in the chair next to Inko’s, holding Izuku’s six month old sister, Cherry. He smiles at the two. 

A doctor walks in. “I’m Dr. Nakahara. It’s good to see you’re awake, Mr. Midoriya.” 

“Thanks, it’s good to be awake.” 

“There’s good and bad news. Is it alright to talk with everyone here?” 

He’s obviously pointing out Bakugo. 

“He’s family too. Kacchan can stay,” Izuku says. 

Dr. Nakahara nods. “The good news is that all of your tests came back negative. The bad news is that we still aren’t sure what’s wrong. It could always just be stress added to your mental condition.” 

Izuku nods. “Are there other tests?” 

“There are a couple that we can do now that you’re awake. I’ll talk to your parents and get back to you.” 

He turns to Inko and All Might. “Can we step outside?” 

“Will you be alright, dear?” Inko asks. 

Izuku nods, so they head outside. Bakugo shifts in his chair. 

“I’m gonna be fine,” Izuku says. 

“I’m not worried that you’re dying,” Bakugo replies. 

“Then what are you worried about?” 

“How you’ll take whatever the diagnosis is. You’re not exactly known for reacting calmly in stressful situations.” 

“Mom’s here. Can’t worry her.” 

“That is… very you.” 

“You were gonna say dumb, weren’t you?” 

“Nope.” 

Inko and All Might come back into the room. “It’s just some brain scans, Young Midoriya. We just want to make sure that you’re alright.” 

“That’ll be fine,” Izuku says. “Does anybody else know?” 

“No,” Bakugo answers. 

“Good. I’d like to keep it that way. I don’t want our classmates finding out and freaking out.” 

“I’m pretty sure not hearing from you would freak them out more.” 

“That’s a good point. Where’s my phone?” 

Bakugo offers it to him and he takes it. He turns it on and he only has two texts. One from Todoroki and one from Uraraka. Uraraka’s text is just asking him how his weekend’s been so far, while Todoroki’s text is asking if they’re still on to meet tomorrow. He quickly texts Uraraka that he could be better, then tells Todoroki that he doesn’t know if they’re still on for tomorrow. He puts his phone down and starts up a conversation with Inko. 

After waiting a while, Izuku goes and gets the tests done. His head and hair are sticky afterwards, which he is not a fan of, but he doesn’t complain. He spends the time waiting for the results talking to Bakugo and his parents, mostly about pointless stuff, but it’s keeping him entertained. Finally, Dr. Nakahara comes back. 

“So, what are the results?” Izuku asks. 

“All of the brain scans came back completely normal, so it has to be stress coupled with your mental condition,” Dr. Nakahara answers. “I want you to go through your schedule and see if there’s anything that’s obviously adding too much stress. If there isn’t, then you just need to reduce general stress. Working less hours, sleeping more, things that will help you combat this happening.” 

“But I’m completely hydrated?” 

“You were a little dehydrated, but nowhere near enough to cause any of this. Why?” 

“Just making sure.” 

He nods. “I want you to stay to finish the IV, but after that we’ll get you released.” 

“Thank you,” All Might says. 

Dr. Nakahara nods, then heads out. It takes an hour to get Izuku released after he’s done with the IV, which seems to have frustrated him. 

“Hospitals take a long time,” Bakugo says. “Don’t know what you were expecting.” 

“I know, it’s just frustrating. Sorry about this, guys.” 

“It’s alright, Izuku. We’ve been talking about you spending more time at home anyway,” Inko says. “We’re gonna get Cherry in the car. You guys come over once you’ve had a chance to chat.” 

Inko and All Might walk to the car. Izuku turns towards Bakugo, who shrugs. 

“I’m fine, but you pull this stunt again and I’m barricading you in the dorms.” 

Izuku puts his hands up. “I read you loud and clear. There’s really no need though, Kacchan.” 

“ There’s really no need, Kacchan ,” Bakugo mocks. “Obviously there is a need.” 

“Sorry.” 

“You should be. You scared the shit out of your parents, all because you don’t know how to say no to Nighteye. I hope that All Might actually talks to him about your hours.” 

“Yeah, that would probably be helpful,” Izuku says sheepishly. 

“Come on,” Bakugo says. “You should probably talk to IcyHot about your little health scare before he finds out on his own.” 

Izuku nods. “He’ll tear my head off.” 

“I’m not sure that’s what’ll happen.” 

The two head to the Midoriya-Yagi’s car to head back to the apartment.

[faofinn]

29. Pounding Headache (Alt 3)

Part 1 | Part 2

“Hopefully this second crew should be here shortly and we can get you both off to hospital. Have you got someone to come and be with the kids?”

"Kit and Bug are seventeen."

“I’m sure it would be nice for them to have someone with them?”

"I don't know if anyone replied." He was starting to get more than a little tired of the situation, the nausea still there and the pain creeping in.

“Do you want us to call someone?”

"Maybe, yeah."

“How’s that pain? Do you want something?”

Harrison struggled to pay attention to the paramedic, rubbing his face with a groan. "Wait, what? I didn't get that."

“Painkillers?”

"For me?"

“Yeah, for you. If you’ve got pain.”

He dropped his head to his hands. "Yeah, a bit."

“I’ll get you something for that, then.”

As the paramedic busied himself sorting drugs, Harrison turned to Alfie. "Bug? Can…can you call Grandad Steve? Or one of your uncles?"

Alfie nodded. “Yeah, I’ll call them.” He said softly. 

"Thanks, Bug." He forced a watery smile. "You're doing amazing."

“Are you gonna be okay?” He asked, unable to help himself. 

"Me?" His heart broke, and he stretched a hand out. "Ah, Bug, come here."

“You look like shit.” He mumbled, reaching for his Dad’s hand. 

He squeezed it tight. "I'm okay, I promise. I've just got a headache, just a little bit of blood. I'm always, always, not very well for a bit after I hit my head, but then I'm better the next day. I'm even better from a few minutes ago." 

While it wasn’t a lie, it wasn’t entirely the truth. The nausea had subsided, but the pain was overwhelming. He forced himself to give Alfie a smile, trying to make it seem okay. 

“Still, though. Can we go with you?”

"Do you not want to stay here? Someone will come be with you."

“I don’t want to leave you.”

"You know I'll be okay." He promised. "I'll ask, yeah? You should be okay to."

He hesitated then. “Levi.”

"Mm?"

“Can he come? Or should we stay with him?” Alfie didn’t know what to do, too used to his Dads taking control. But now both of them weren’t well, and he wasn’t sure how to cope. 

"What does he want to do?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

Harrison sighed, doing his best to not snap. It wasn’t Alfie's fault, and he could see his son was stressed and worried about them, but the pounding headache that had settled was testing his patience. 

"Go speak to Leaf, call your grandad, and then come back." He said. 

The second crew arrived as Alfie headed through to the kitchen, and Harrison couldn't help the groan. The extra people just added to the noise and activity, and couldn't be arsed to deal with it. He didn't bother raising his head as the first paramedic crouched by him again, wordlessly holding his arm out for the medication. 

"There you go, give that a moment to work, okay?"

His noise in agreement was more of a groan than a hum, his eyes closed as he rested his head back in his hands. 

Alfie was glad to get away from the noise for a minute, as the second crew arrived and started to fuss. It was overwhelming and all just too much. He didn’t know where his little brother was, or his twin, but he gripped the kitchen counter, tears suddenly springing to his eyes. He pulled out his phone, dialling for Steve. He’d help, he always did. 

Steve answered quickly, his heart breaking. "Alfie? I'm on my way, I'm not going to be long."

“Grandpa Steve?” He whimpered, trying so desperately to stop the tears. 

"Hey, it's okay. You're okay. I know it's scary. You're being so brave, though." 

“I don’t know what to do. I-I want to go with them but I don’t know about Kieran and Levi and everything and what if I’m not allowed to go, or they make me leave in hospital, and what if they’re not okay and they ask me questions and…” He trailed off, totally overwhelmed. 

"It's okay. Where's Hars? Is he taking to the ambulance now? Why don’t you ask him when he's free? See what he thinks, hmm?"

He sniffed. “I can’t. He’s… he’s hurt too, they’re both not well. They called a second ambulance.”

Steve took a second, of course his son wouldn't make things easy. "What did he do?"

“I… I don’t know, he said he fell? Hit the kitchen c-cabinets and hit his head. He’s been sick, and it’s bleeding everywhere, and there’s paramedics with him too and I don’t know what to do, because I dont want to leave him but I don’t want to leave Kieran and Levi if they don’t want to come and I don’t want them to see me like this, not Levi.”

"Bug, take a breath. It's okay." Steve soothed. "Harrison has always been sick when he hits his head, he always has been. And head injuries, however small, bleed a lot. You split your head open when you were younger, and it looked like you'd tipped a bottle of juice on the floor. I know it's scary, you're being so brave. So, so brave."

“I don’t know what to do.”

"Just take a moment, take a deep breath, breathe it all out. You're being so brave, Alfie. You're doing really well."

Alfie forced a deep breath, fighting against the sobbing, and managed to get a little bit of control. “Sorry.”

"Don't apologise, you're okay."

“I… I don’t know what to do.”

"You don't need to do anything, you're okay."

“But I do.”

"Not right now. Get yourself a glass of water and take a moment."

“But Dads…”

"They're being looked after, aren't they?" He said softly. "I'm only a few minutes away.

He sniffed again. “I guess.”

"Think what your Dads would say."

“He just said to call you.”

"So that I could do the thinking for you, so you didn't have to worry."

“I need to find Levi.”

"He'll be around."

“The house is so busy.”

"I know, it will be. They're just  doing their job."

“I don’t like it.”

"I know, kiddo. I know. Is the front door unlocked?"

“Yeah.”

"Alright. Did you get your glass of water?"

“No.” He admitted. 

"Get that for me, okay? I'm just pulling into the estate now."

“Okay.” He mumbled, reaching into the cupboard for a glass.

"Thank you."

He filled it with water, sniffing again and trying to stop the tears. “Sorry.”

"Don't apologise, Alfie. You're doing really well."

“Are you nearly here?”

"Just parking, kiddo."

“Okay.”

Steve didn't put the phone down until he was inside, calling through to the living room but heading straight for the kitchen. He pulled Alfie in for a hug, holding his grandson close.

Alfie wrapped his arms around him. “Thank you.” He mumbled. 

"You're okay, you’re okay." He murmured. "You've been so brave."

“I should find Kieran and Levi.”

"I'll go get them, you stay here, hmm?"

“Okay.”

"I won't be long." He promised. 

Alfie nodded, feeling infinitely guilty. It should be him helping, not Steve, but he felt rooted to the spot. 

Steve headed upstairs, where he found Levi and Kieran. The older brother was comforting Levi, keeping him distracted. The relief was so obvious on his face as he saw Steve, dropping the tablet and rushing at his grandfather. 

"Grandad!"

"Hey, Kit." He pulled him in for a hug, Levi quickly joining them. "And Levi, there we go. You two are okay."

Levi pulled back, moving to sit on his bed again. "Are dads really sick?"

Steve sighed. "Tai's doing a lot better, but he'll have to go in with having such a low. And Hars, the idiot, he's always been sick when he hits his head. He always has, always used to have my life with it. So he'll have to go and get checked, but it probably just looks worse than it is."

Kieran dropped his head. "Is Alfie okay? I'm sorry, I had to leave, I couldn't…it was just…I'm sorry, I -"

"Hey, it's okay." Steve's heart broke, and he reached to rub Kieran's back. "You don't need to apologise. He's just worried about you two. Obviously your dads are going to have to go in the ambulance, but do you want to go with them?"

Kieran paled. "In the ambulance?"

"No, no. You don't have to, you can come with me in the car."

He let out a shaky breath. "Okay."

"Could I go with dad?" 

"I'm sure you'll be allowed, Leaf." Steve gave him a smile. "Right, I'm gonna go check on them, make sure they're behaving now, eh? Why don’t you two stay up here? Maybe grab your dads' hospital bags, just in case?"

"We can do that." Kieran nodded. "Thanks, grandad."

"You're welcome, Kit. Just give me a shout if you need anything, okay? I love you boys."

Happy they were okay enough upstairs, Steve returned downstairs. He popped his head back into the living room, taking a second as he finally noticed the state of the room.

"You've made an impressive mess, kid." He sighed. "You alright, Tai?"

Tai gave a shrug. "Been better. Think Hars is worse than me."

Harrison cracked an eye open in his direction. "Oh. Hi dad."

He walked over to Harrison's side. "How are you feeling?"

He learned into his arm on his shoulder. "Fucking shit. I feel like my head is going to explode. And they've even been nice and given me morphine."

"Not good, eh?" He winced as he caught sight of the lac the paramedic was cleaning. "You've done a pretty number there, what happened?"

Harrison didn't answer for a moment, all too aware Steve would see through his lies. "I hit my head on the counter."

"Was it your leg again?" Tai asked from across the room.

"Mm. Something like that."

"Harrison." Steve warned.

"Ooh, full name. I'm in trouble."

Tai snickered from the other sofa. "Uh oh."

"What happened, Hars?" He hated the thought, the worry that he might have been drinking, but Harrison knew better, was better. He knew that really.

"It wasn't his fault." He said quietly.

Tai frowned. "Who?" 

Harrison closed his eyes. "You wouldn't let me help you, I asked to do your sugars and I was in the way."

"No." Tai was pale, the nausea overwhelming. 

"Oh, Hars."

"You didn't mean it, I know you didn't." His voice wavered and he took a shaky breath. "You wanted past me, I guess. You…you shoved me pretty hard." 

The room was silent. Harrison didn't dare to raise his head, couldn't bring himself to look at his husband. Tai, on the other hand, couldn't look away. He could feel the panic in his chest, and the monitor was quick to protest.

"Hars." His voice cracked, his emotion obvious. He didn't yet trust his legs to hold him up, but all he wanted was to hold his husband. "Hars, love, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wouldn't have…I don’t… I'm sorry."

[fletcherwilbury]

@sicktember Day 9: Alt Prompt 5: "I'm so sorry..."

Warning for Illness, past injury, eye infection, seizures, past trauma, ambulance mention, hospital mention

[fortune-maiden]

Already stressed out from work and I am not even at work yet

[sicktember]

How do the alt prompts work?

Generally speaking, the Alternate (Alt) Prompts are there to help individuals who wish to use thirty prompts but find something on the main list triggering or simply uninteresting. This allows them to drop the prompt they don't enjoy and replace it with one that's more their speed.

So let's say emeto isn't your jam. You could drop Prompt 13, Anxious Stomach, and swap it out with Alt. 3, Pounding Headache.

However, you don't have to be swapping anything out to use them. If one of the Alt Prompts calls to you and you want to use it, go for it!

[fandom-happy]

Sicktember 2023 - Day 30: Alt prompt 3 - Pounding headache

Summary: Malcolm has the worst headache, lucky he has some of the best people around to help him.

[avengers--assembly]

Fevered confessions

Summary: Y/n is sick and goes to Bucky’s room for some comfort

Sicktember prompts used:

1. I’m not hungover, I’m just sick”

Alts 2. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Word count: 1014

Warnings: none

●◇●◇●◇●◇●◇

Y/n stumbled down the hallway, leaning heavily against the wall in an attempt to catch her breath. Soft pants echoed around the hall as she squeezed her eyes shut, trying unsuccessfully to stop the pounding in her head.

Her muscles ached pathetically as she took another step forward, swaying slightly when she inched away from the wall. She raised her hand, missing the door by a few inches on her first try. She breathed out through her mouth in frustration, trying to focus her vision back into a single view. She touched the wood this time, knocking on the door. A voice floated towards her, meeting her in an embrace of comfort.

“Y/n?” Her name was gruff on Bucky’s lips, his voice coated in sleep. She tried smiling, opening her eyes again, the bright light digging into her vision as the rays of light shone from beneath his door. “Hi, Buck,” she murmured, aware of the ruffling of his sheets as he stood up. The door swung open to reveal his worried gaze. It swept over her, trying to locate a reason for her being there in the middle of the night.

“Are you alright? What’s wrong?” He was worried. She hated herself in that moment for causing such emotions. He shouldn’t need to think about her. He had enough problems sleeping without her adding to his worries.

"Nothing’s wrong.” She grinned at him, a little lop-sided. Her words came out more slurred than she was hoping, and she could see the slight look of bewilderment on Bucky’s face as he gaped at her. “Are you drunk?”

"Am I drunk?” She repeated, voice edging to a whisper as her throat burned as she swallowed.

"That’s what I asked, isn’t it?” He didn’t seem irritated yet. The grin on her face grew. “’m not drunk... silly Bucky. Did I wake you up? Sorry. I didn’ mean to...” she continued, a frown filling her features now.

"It’s fine, I was awake anywa—” He trailed off, a hand going to touch her forehead. It was cold enough to make her shiver, and she didn’t seem otherwise fazed even as Bucky swore under his breath,

"Shit, you’re burning up.”

She nodded along. “I knowww,” she said in a sing-song tone. He pulled at her arm, mindful of her stumbling, before leading her to his bed. “How long? Y/n.” He tried to keep her focus on him as he watched her glazed eyes flicker over his room.

“Sorry for the mess,” he muttered, steering her until she flopped onto his mattress. She grinned up at the ceiling. “Um, maybe since today?”

"Maybe?” He lifted an eyebrow.

“Definitely,” she hummed back.

“You take any medicine yet? I don’t like how high the fever is. You should have told me you were sick!”

“No medicine... and why?”

“Why? Why did you come to my room tonight? Because you know I would care!”

Y/n glanced at him as he raised his voice. “‘m sorry,” she mumbled, closing her eyes again, snuggling into the covers. She buried her face in his pillow heap. “Smells like you.”

“I mean... they are my pillows?” he replied, scratching his neck nervously. She only made a humming noise in reply. “You can’t come into my room and steal my bed, doll. You need to drink something for that fever. And water. Water is good.”

She waved him off, with a weak lift of her hand. “Stay here,” was his reply before disappearing out of the doorway in search of his mentioned objects.

****

When he finally returned, she was fast asleep, taking up most of the bed and blankets. He moved closer, shaking her shoulder. “Doll,” he said softly, ignoring her attempt to shoo him away, “you need to drink this.” He showed the pill and glass of water to her in his attempt to make her reasonable. “‘m sleeping.”

“You can sleep afterward.”

She was silent for a moment before she tried sitting up, her hands bracing against his arm as she sat up completely, making a gimme motion with her hands as she glanced at the water. He dropped the pill into her open palm and waited until she put it in her mouth before handing the water to swallow it with. Once she was done, the glass was empty, and on his table, she was again making herself comfortable.

He shifted awkwardly, taking a step backwards. “I’ll just, uh, leave you here, ok? I’ll take the couch.” He switched off the light again, bathing the room in darkness. Her face was cast in shadow as she complained.

"No,” she said, grabbing on the first thing she could get her hands on, a piece of loose fabric on his sweatpants. Bucky paused, even if he could easily move away from her grip. “stay with me. Pretty please?” She whispered.

“I don’t know, doll... are you sure?”

“Get in.”

“You want me to sleep with you? In the same bed?”

“Mmm.”

“I—uh.”

“Bucky,” she whined, and he finally caved, climbing under the covers next to her, sticking to his own side, stiff. She wasn’t going to settle for that and rolled closer, burying her face in his chest.

“Doll,” he warned, an arm wrapping around her waist anyway.

“I won’t get you sick, promise,” her voice was slightly muffled as she talked, her overly warm face obvious even through his shirt.

“That’s not something you can promise me... and not what I was worried about.”

“What then?”

“Making you uncomfortable. I’m not a good guy for you, doll. Not like this.”

“Shh. I love you, I could never be uncomfortable.” He froze slightly, swallowing heavily. “You don’t mean that, doll. Take it back. You don’t—” He trailed off. She was already gone, sleeping soundly.

Bucky smiled slowly as her soft breaths brushed against him. Her heartbeat, a comforting touch. Alive. Sleeping. He could enjoy this while it lasted. Her fever-addled brain couldn’t be trusted, but he would hold onto this moment, even if her horrified look in the morning would haunt him.

[whumperwithwings]

Sicktember Day 13

Mononucleosis (Alt Prompt: Hospital Bed)\

Caretaker gripped the edge of the perfectly arranged hospital bed, Whumpee laying deceptively peacefully on top. The heart rate monitor next to them beeped, again and again, at a rate that seemed just slightly too slow and, somehow, slightly to fast at the same time.

Whumpee stirred on the sheets, rumpling the blanket a bit.

"Whumpee? Are you awake?"

There was no answer.

[somber-sapphic]

Love and Kisses

〘Prompt 20 Alt- Forehead Kisses〙

〘Notes- Hello my dears! Despite my best efforts (and believe me, they were borderline extreme) I've managed to get myself sick and man am I pissed about it. However, it does give me an excuse to write sickfics in self pity!〙

〘Summary- Apparently forehead kisses replace thermometers.〙

〘Word Count- 1k〙

〘Pairing- WandaNat x Sick Reader〙

〚Main Masterlist〛⌶〚Sicktember Masterlist〛

“Morning Y/n/n!” Wanda chirped, setting a plate loaded with eggs, bacon, and blueberry pancakes down in front of you. Natasha sat in the chair beside you, stuffing her face with the salty, sugary, sticky breakfast. Blueberry pancakes were a favorite of hers and she would eat as many as she could physically hold each time Wanda made them.

Normally, you’d be just as excited about the extravagant meal, but today your cheesy scrambled eggs and syrup coated bacon didn’t look at all appetizing. Maybe it was the aches that had settled in your bones, the soreness in your throat or the congestion settling in your sinuses. Whichever symptom it was, you hated it.

Wanda was singing quietly to herself as she flipped a few more pancakes, tossing three onto her own plate. Her meal was void of eggs, she hated them with a burning passion, and the bacon was carefully separated so no syrup would touch the meat.

She took her seat across from you at the table, nudging you with an elbow before beginning to pick at her own meal. She’d seen the look on your face when you came into the kitchen, the little scowl that always appeared when you weren’t feeling well. It was accompanied by bleary eyes, a red raw nose, and slightly parted lips. She could tell that you couldn’t breathe properly though you were trying to pretend that you were fine.

The three of you sat in relative silence as Wanda and Natasha ate, while you simply stirred your eggs around on your plate. You wanted to be hungry, to eat the probably delicious food in front of you, but the pain in your throat was demanding that you didn’t swallow anything.

Despite that, you reached for the glass of orange juice and chugged it, relying on the lovely powers of vitamin c to get the job done. You sensed a lot of orange juice in your near future. Orange juice and cough drops.

Natasha, who had been eying your uneaten pancakes, raised an eyebrow and looked over at Wanda who was staring at you, mouth agape. The redhead hummed quietly and took your hand, prompting you to set the fork down. It wasn’t like you were eating anyway and they didn’t seem to be falling for your “mix it around the plate” technique.   

You cleared your throat quietly and glanced at the assassin, half expecting to be belittled. She tended to scold you when you did something that wasn’t good for your health, and this probably qualified as one of those things.

A sudden wave of cold crashed over you and you shivered violently, pulling your hand away to wrap your arms around your chest. There was that fever you had been expecting, arriving in full force as it typically did. You always got terrible fevers when you were sick.

“Y/n, c’mere babe.” Natasha ordered, beckoning you to her with a little wave. You rolled your eyes (ow, headache) and leaned towards her, not entirely sure what her plan was.

You certainly weren’t expecting her to kiss your forehead and grab your face to hold you there as she tried to gauge your temperature. The young woman pulled back after a few seconds and frowned, looking to Wanda with a worried expression as she did.

She cupped your cheeks in her calloused hands, her face not changing.

“She’s on fire. Y/n, when did you start to feel sick?” she demanded, stroking your cheekbone with a thumb. You rather enjoyed the affection, her touch light and comforting. The look your witch was giving you was not one that you enjoyed however, she was glaring.

“I dunno. Few hours.” You croaked in response, the first words you’d said all morning. The brunette’s eyebrows quirked up at the sound of your voice, alarmed by how strange you sounded.

“Well, I for one find that hard to believe, you look pretty bad for only being sick a few hours. Try again.” she ordered, pushing her chair out to come to your side. She took your face out of Natasha’s hands and repeated the gesture, kissing your forehead with soft lips.

“I’ve felt off all week, but this is the worst it’s been.” You leaned into her touch; her cool hands felt nice against your hot skin. The brunette hummed her worry and pulled your head against her chest, combing her fingers though your hair. Her nails danced across your scalp; it was as if she was intentionally trying to lull you to sleep.

Natasha stood too and put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Alright sicky, let’s go back up to bed. You’re already in your pjs so we won’t even need to change.” She sighed, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. You were pretty sure that the second you left your food alone she’d be finishing your pancakes, but you didn’t want them anyway.

“You have to make me soup. ‘nd I want cuddles.” You grumbled, yelping as Natasha picked you up as if you were a princess in one of those Disney movies. You nestled your head under her chin and let out a kittenish sneeze, whining into her clavicle.

“I’ll make your favorite, while Natasha gives you cuddles.” Wanda placated, taking one of your hands. You allowed yourself a little smile as you coughed into the redhead’s shirt, feeling a bit guilty for spreading your germs. She didn’t seem to mind however, in fact she held you closer as she carried you up the stairs, smiling to herself.

In that moment, carrying you in her arms, she found your vulnerability adorable. Natasha looked back at Wanda, pleased to see that the witch was wearing a similar grin. She leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to the Sokovian woman’s temple before carrying you into the bedroom, preparing for a day of sniffles and complaints.

Wanda walked back to the kitchen and pulled out a pot, leaving the kitchen dirty as she prepared to make your favorite soup. These woman would truly do anything for you.

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[newwwwusername]

Fic title : Growling in the Middle of the Night

@sicktember 2023 prompt : Pounding Headache

Rating : General Audiences

Fandom : Puss in Boots (Movies)

Pairing : Kitty/Puss

Additional tags : Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Good Significant Other Kitty Softpaws (Puss in Boots), Fluff, Massage

Word count : 205

[umbremom]

in your absence

Here is Hobo Eren and Nurse Mikasa for Sicktember (alt prompt 1: hospital bed), inspired by this illustration by rxvxrly on twt 🕊️

Thank you to @joojconverts for the nurse uniform

Full resolution and CC credits here

[crimsonwolf715]

Alone No More

(Part 2 of MCU Spiderman Stories)

It’s been about a year since Tony Stark died saving the lives of everyone on the planet. It’s been over three months since the world forgot about Peter Parker. Over three months without the people Peter loves in his life. With his knowledge, fake papers, and a G.E.D., Peter managed to get a job. Poor pay that’s barely enough to live on, but he’s managed. Two weeks until the anniversary of Tony’s death. Peter can work remotely, so he hitched a ride with a co-worker to a town a couple hours away from where the compound used to be. 

Not even three whole days into the drip, Peter gets sick. He curses his bad luck and goes out to get medicine. He walks to the convenience store and grabs two different kinds of meds, just in case one of them doesn’t work. 

“Just these?” the girl at the register asks. 

“Just those,” Peter confirms. 

She gives him the total and he pays. He walks back to the motel. After taking a dose, he gets back to work. He needs to work enough to take the anniversary and the day after off. After working with the ever growing headache for several hours, he decides that he needs some rest. He has trouble falling asleep, but ends up passing out after an hour. 

Peter wakes up to his phone ringing, his ringtone making his head pound. 

He grabs it and answers. “Parker, do you have the presentation for the meeting?” Peter’s boss asks. 

“It’s in your inbox, I sent it last night before I clocked out.” 

“It’s not there, I looked.” 

Peter sighs and sits up. He grabs his laptop and pulls up his email. He checks and notices that he did send one last night, but sighs and resends the email. 

“Can you reload your email and check and see if you got it?” 

The time passes by almost in slow motion for Peter, who feels like someone’s gently beating on his head with a book. 

“I got it. Thanks, Parker.” 

“You’re welcome. Do you need anything else, sir?” Peter asks. 

“Nope, that’ll be it.” 

His boss hangs up, so Peter returns to trying to gather the motivation to start working. He takes more meds and then decides that he might as well start now since he’s awake and his laptop is open next to him. Another day of taking medicine and it doesn’t work, he moves on to the next med. 

His symptoms steadily get worse and the second medicine doesn’t help either. So Peter drags himself out of his motel room and walks to the convenience store. He grabs three more different kinds of meds. He goes up to the front and puts them down. 

The same person that was running the register before is there again. She scans the items while watching the TV. Peter turns his attention to the TV. They’re discussing how he saved a political figure four weeks ago. He saved a car from getting in an accident, but he didn’t know who was in the car. Just that it was about to cause a huge problem. 

“Spiderman saves a political figure. Recap of the story next,” the newscaster says. 

Megan clicks her tongue. 

“Don’t like Spiderman?” Peter asks. 

“That’s not it,” she answers. 

“What is it then?” 

“That political figure is trying to get Spiderman some award and to get him in his pocket.” 

“Oh. I’ve been out of the loop with work and stuff.” 

“Yeah. My thoughts on Spiderman are mixed.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means that I think he’s doing good work, but he seems lonely. He doesn’t interact with any of the other heroes and he doesn’t seem to interact with civilians much outside of making sure that people are alright after incidents.” 

Peter sighs, the pressure in his face making the action slightly painful. “He does, doesn’t he?” 

“Yeah, he does. Are these gonna be it?” 

Peter nods. She gives him the total and he pays. 

“I hope you feel better,” Megan says. 

“Thanks,” Peter replies, then walks back to the motel. 

The next days are even worse. Constantly feeling like he’s on the edge of becoming too sick to function but he’s forcing himself to keep on track. To keep going so he doesn’t lose hope that he’ll get better. 

Peter wakes up feeling like he’s dying. His body feels like it’s so warm that he could burn away, his head feels like someone’s pounding on it with a blunt object, and his throat is so sore that it hurts to swallow. 

The medicine hasn’t been helping. If it’s doing anything, it’s making it worse. I’m not gonna get better. 

Peter sighs, even though the action is painful. He tries to grab his phone to call someone, anyone for help. He can’t seem to move his arms, no matter how hard he tries. 

I’m so sorry guys. I thought I could find something to bring your memories back. I’ve been trying to get in touch with Dr. Strange and fix this. I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodbye because you don’t deserve that. I’m sorry Mr. Stark because I wasn’t able to hold your legacy the way that I said I would. I wanted to stay in touch with Morgan and Mrs. Potts, I really did. I’m so sorry. I don’t wanna die here. I wanna live… I wanna see them again. All of them. 

Peter closes his eyes and tries to go to sleep. So hopefully he doesn’t have to be awake if his life does come to an end. 

Happy settles down on the couch of his apartment. He’s heading down to visit Morgan and Pepper at the end of the week, so he doesn’t have to be alone on the anniversary of Tony’s death. He closes his eyes and starts to doze off when he hears something knock over in his kitchen. He gets up and walks in there, and Wanda’s standing in the middle of his kitchen. 

“Wanda?” Happy asks. 

“I don’t have a lot of time, so this is what I’ve got to say. Strange has made everyone that can’t protect their mind forget who Peter Parker is, but he’s in trouble and I can’t get involved. I’m not strong enough yet, but I can give you this,” Wanda says. 

She holds out a stone and Happy takes it. Memories flood into his brain, memories of him and Peter. 

“You said that he’s in trouble, right? Where is he?” Happy asks.

Wanda puts a piece of paper on the table, then shimmers out of view. Happy grabs the piece of paper and an address is written on it. He grabs his keys and jacket, then rushes out of his apartment. Once he gets into the car, he turns the AI system on. 

“Edith, please make believable guardianship papers.” 

“Right away, sir.” 

The drive is an excruciating five hours and when he gets there, it’s a dingy motel somewhat close to where the compound used to be. 

“Is this the right address?” Happy asks. 

“Yes, it is,” Edith answers. “Also I checked the database and there’s nobody under the name Peter Parker. There is a Ben Parker, but no Peter anywhere in the system in the last two months.” 

“Ben was his uncle, so that’s probably the name he’s going under. Thank you, Edith.” “

You’re welcome, sir. Those papers are ready in the trunk for you.” 

Happy gets out of the car and heads over to the trunk. He grabs the papers out and they look real, which is hopefully enough for the person at the front desk of this motel. He walks in and there’s an old man at the desk. 

“Hi, I’m looking for a Parker here. Is he still checked in?” Happy asks. 

“Are you the police?” the man asks. 

“No, I’m his guardian,” Happy says, pulling out the paperwork and handing it to the man. 

The man looks it over for several minutes, then hands it back to Happy. “His ID said he was twenty-three.” 

“He ran away, and his aunt gave me the tip that he was up here.” 

The man hands Happy a keycard. “He’s in Room 26, right down that hall on the first floor.” 

Happy takes the keycard. “Thank you for your help.” 

“No, thank you,” the man replies. “I haven’t seen the kid in days after he looked pretty sick. If I hadn’t seen him before tomorrow, I would have gone to check on him. You’re saving me the trouble.” 

Happy goes down the hall and knocks on the door. No answer, so he uses the card to open the door. He sees Peter on the bed, not moving. He rushes over and barely shakes Peter before Peter opens his eyes. 

“Happy?” Peter asks. 

“Hey, buddy,” Happy says. “Don’t worry, I’ve gotcha. You’re gonna be just fine, I promise.” 

“But you don’t remember who I am. Am I dreaming?” 

“No, you’re not dreaming, kid. I’m here and you’re gonna be okay.” 

“Okay, I’m gonna be fine. I’m gonna be fine. Thank you, Happy.” Peter grabs Happy’s jacket, tears pouring down his face. “Thank you, Happy. I missed you so much.” 

“Hey, I missed you too, kid. I’m so sorry I forgot. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault. I’m the one that agreed to that, I knew the risk and I took it anyway. I just… I’ve been alone. I thought I was gonna die alone.” 

Happy starts crying and he grabs Peter’s hand. “You’re not dying on my watch, kid. I’m gonna get you to Pepper and everything’s gonna be alright. You’re not gonna die.” 

Peter nods. “Okay. I believe you.” 

Happy helps Peter up and mostly carries him out to the car. After getting Peter settled in the back, Happy drives up to the cabin where Pepper and Morgan live. 

Peter wakes up to the sound of familiar laughter. He feels feverish, but he doesn’t feel like he’s going to burn up anymore. He hears the laugh again and realizes that it sounds like Morgan. Peter feels his chest tighten and tears spring up in his eyes. 

I’m hallucinating. I must be worse off than I feel.  

He opens his eyes and doesn’t immediately recognize where he is. He sits up quickly and his vision swims. He tilts sideways and he feels someone catch him from falling. No spider sense, so no danger. Once his vision stops swimming, he sees that Pepper Potts is the person that caught him. 

“Mrs. Potts?” Peter asks. 

“Hi, Peter,” she says softly. “Just lie back down and everything is gonna be fine.” 

“How…? How do you remember me?” 

“I don’t really, Peter. It’s complicated and I will explain it when you’re feeling better.” 

“I’m feeling fine,” Peter says, his words slurring slightly. 

“Mmhmm,” Pepper hums, gently pushing Peter back down onto the bed. 

“Mrs. Potts?” 

“Yes, Peter?” 

“I’m really sorry. I’m the reason that you don’t remember me and I wasn’t able to keep my promise to Morgan. I’m really sorry.” 

“It’s okay, Peter. You saved the world. That’s all that’s important in that regard. We can figure out the rest later.” 

Peter nods, trying to force the tears away. Pepper stays there, holding Peter’s hand until he falls asleep.

[faofinn]

24. "I'm so sorry" (Alt 5)

Harrison hadn't long been home from uni. He loved it, he really did but he missed Steve too. He loved coming home for the holidays, especially Christmas. They always made a big deal about it, making up for the years they'd missed. As much as Harrison tried to help Steve cook, it was usually for the best he didn't. 

Steve picked him up a week before Christmas, and Harrison was grateful for the rest before the celebration. It gave him a chance to recover from the late nights and no long days, a chance to shake the illness that had been threatening to overwhelm him.

He crashed as soon as he got in, unusual for him, but Steve had expected it. The texts over the week had complained about the tsunami of exams that threatened to drown him. He looked exhausted, too, so Steve offered to take some food up for him later. He left it on the bedside table Harrison all wrapped up and fast asleep in his duvet.

It was early afternoon when Harrison emerged, stumbling downstairs in his pyjamas and oversized hoodie Steve glanced up from his book, frowning at the state of him. He looked terrible, pale, and tired, even after his nap.

"Morning. How are you feeling?"

Harrison gave him a smile. "Morning. I don't feel great." He admitted. 

"You don't look great." Steve said softly. "Headache? Feeling sick? Pain?" 

He settled on the sofa, snuggling up. "My stomach hurts and I feel sick, I thought it was just the stress from exams." 

Steve made a soft noise. 'Oh, bless you. Want some meds?"

Harrison nodded. "Yes,please."

"Ill be a minute. "Steve said to him, standing to go to the kitchen. "Anything else you want?"

"No thanks." He called to his dad over the rummaging in the kitchen. 

Steve wasn't long, returning with medication and a glass of juice. "Here." 

"Thank you." He said, gratefully taking them. "Hopefully helps." 

"Yeah, hopefully it does. Steve smiled. "We've got the tree to decorate."

"Yeah. Can't wait."

“I was thinking after we’ve decorated the tree we can put on a shitty Christmas film?”

Harrison stretched out with a whine. "Uh, yeah. Sure."

“Hopefully those meds kick in soon.”

"I hope so. I feel shit."

Steve settled on the sofa with him, wrapping an arm around him gently. “It’s good to have you back.”

He leaned into him. "I'm glad to be home."

“The house is always quiet without you.”

"You're being a right sap, Steve." He laughed softly, the furthest thing from mad.

“Piss off, I’m allowed to be a sap.”

"Mm. I don't mind."

“Good, because I’m not stopping.”

Harrison gave a quiet hum in response. As much as he played the part of the grumpy young adult, he loved when Steve showed affection, when he got to make up for family life he'd missed out on. He was quite content just leaning against Steve, enjoying the contact from his dad.

Steve turned to press a kiss to the top of his head. “Proud of you.”

He found himself choked up. "You are?"

“Of course I am.”

"You shouldn't be."

“Why not?”

"Because."

“Don’t be daft.”

"I'm not. I just do daft shit, you know that."

“I’m proud of you because I’m your Dad.”

He smiled. "I'm glad you're my dad."

“Me too.” He said. “Feeling any better?”

"Not really. But I want to get the tree done."

“Do you want to try?”

"Yeah."

Steve stood, offering Harrison his hands to help him up. “Let’s do it, then.”

He took his hands, grinning. "Let's do it."

Steve put some Christmas music on the speaker, filling the living room with old, nostalgic music. Christmas was difficult for him, since he’d lost the kids, but Harrison helped him infinitely. He could give him the memories he’d not had as a kid, what he deserved. 

Harrison managed to ignore the pain while they decorated, and, for a while, it worked. He loved Christmases with Steve, and as much as he knew Santa wasn't real, it still felt magical. 

Of course, he knew Steve struggled with big events, but he'd been working on it for a little while. They talked about his kids, his late wife, it wasn’t something that Harrison wasn't aware of. It was bittersweet at times, and he knew the only reason he had a family was because Steve had lost his. He disappeared to his room, returning with a few delicate glass baubles. 

"Steve?"

Steve looked up from where he was knelt on the floor, trying to program the lights. “Yeah?”

Harrison hesitated, suddenly aware of how he'd probably overstepped and Steve was going to hate him. He took a breath before kneeling by him, hands outstretched. "I got these, for Jon and Amy and Bella."

Steve stopped, looking up at his son. “Oh, Hars.” He breathed, suddenly choked up. “Thank you.”

He held them out for Steve to take. "Here."

“Let me get up, I don’t want to break them.” He said, getting to his feet before he took them from him. “They’re beautiful.”

"I was terrified they'd break on the way home." He admitted. 

“They look okay.”

"I'm glad."

“Here, help me put them on the tree.”

"Are you sure?"

“Of course I’m sure.”

Harrison found himself choked up again, and he gave Steve a watery smile. "Thank you."

“I’d hug you but I don’t want to break them. There’s a spot here? Seem good?”

Harrison nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He carefully helped Steve hang them on the tree before turning to hug him. 

"I wish I could have met them."

Steve held him tight. “I wish you could have too. They’d love you.”

"They would?" His voice wavered. "I'd have loved proper siblings."

“They would. Bella would’ve been head over heels, too.”

Harrison sniffed. "I'm sorry."

“No, don’t apologise. Are you feeling any better?”

He hesitated, not wanting to admit that he still felt like shit. "A bit."

“You still feel all feverish.” Steve murmured. “Are you sure?”

So much for that. "No."

He frowned. “Let’s sit, then. You don’t look great. Pain still bad?”

He nodded. "And I feel sick."

“Shivery and feverish too?”

"It's just a bug."

“That’s a yes, then.” Steve said, steering him to the sofa. “Where’s the pain?”

"Stomach." He admitted. 

“All over?”

"The bottom."

Steve sighed. “Think we should probably get you checked out.”

"I don't want to, can't we just stay here?"

“I know, but I think it’s best.”

"Please? I'll say if I feel worse."

“Sooner we go, sooner we can come back.” 

"I've ruined Christmas."

“You’ve not ruined anything.”

"I have." He already felt so miserable, so the tears were quick to fall. "I have."

“You’ve not, it’s okay.” Steve soothed, pulling him in for a hug. 

Harrison broke, curling into Steve's side. Sure, he was an adult now, but he felt so rubbish that he could have been a child again. The pain really was bad, and each sob only made it worse. The paracetamol hadn't touched it, the juice he'd taken with it only added to the nausea, and it was almost too late when he realised. He shoved Steve away from him, struggling to his feet and rushing to the bathroom. He dropped to his knees, head in the toilet as he vomited. 

Steve sighed as Harrison was sick, though it stopped his initial confusion as to why he’d pulled away so quickly, He followed him into the bathroom, kneeling next to him. “Bless you. That’s it, get it up, you’ll feel better for it.”

After a few more episodes of vomiting, he rocked back on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He leaned against Steve’s side, closing his eyes and taking a moment to try and catch his breath. The pain seemed to have shifted too, with all the vomiting, and he somehow felt even worse.

"I think I need to go to hospital."

Steve rubbed his back again, holding him close. “I think so too. You stay here, I’ll grab you a few bits, and then we can go.”

"I'm so sorry for ruining everything."

“You’ve not ruined anything.” Steve reassured. “Are you okay for a couple of minutes whilst I go and sort some bits?”

"Yeah." He nodded. "But don't be too long?"

“I won’t be.” He said gently. “We’ll get you sorted out, and no need to apologise. Nothing is ruined. You’ve made my Christmas with those ornaments.”

Harrison whined as he moved, a hand across his stomach. "Thank you."

[fletcherwilbury]

@sicktember Day 7: Alt Prompt 2: Fuzzy Socks

Warning for  Flashback, past traumatic events, hospital mention, past assault, prison mention