You reblogged a textpost recently with the title "sick prompts/ starters" and I really want to see what you can come up with for "no, no, don't throw up in that" P.s. really love your blog abd appreciate your fics SOO MUCHHHHH!! XxXxX
Thank you so much!! I was in the mood for some high school era Jay/Elliot so I hope that’s cool. I promise I’ll write up relationship backstories at some point, but both Jay and Elliot and Alan and Cici were together in high school, so there can certainly be more high school fics if people are interested. Hope you enjoy!
Elliot had been staring at the same page of his textbook for what felt like hours. The tiny words swam before his eyes, and while he could squint to read each one, there was no meaning he could pick out from the sentences.
“Talk to me about Czechoslovakia,” Jay said. His tone was business-like, impatient, like it always was when he was trying to get work done. Elliot turned to face him, trying his best not to look exhausted.
“Give me a sec,” he replied. “Sorry, it’s just…dense.”
“Dense? I think you’re the dense one,” Jay shot back.
It was clearly a joke; Elliot had known Jay long enough to distinguish his deadpan insults from his equally deadpan humor. Still, he could only muster a slight laugh.
“You’re so quiet,” Jay commented.
“You hate when I say you’re quiet,” Elliot replied, in a half-hearted attempt to get Jay to ignore him. It was fifth period. If he could just manage to ignore the leaden feel of his body and the churning of his stomach for another hour and a half, he would be free to go home and sleep.
“Because I’m always quiet,” Jay said. “You never shut up. I’m the one carrying the conversation right now. It’s unnerving.”
“Sorry,” Elliot said softly. “You, uh, want me to talk more? Or do the work, or what?”
“Do what you want,” Jay replied dismissively. “Just…are you alright?”
Elliot thought for a moment. He didn’t feel alright, pretty far from it. His stomach cramped uncomfortably and he placed a hand over his abdomen, hoping Jay wouldn’t notice.
“I’ll be fine,” he answered. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Hmm.” Jay considered him for a second, then shook his head. “No.”
“You’re not tired. Well, you are tired. But not just tired.”
“Okay, Sherlock, then what’s wrong with me?” Elliot replied, irritated. As much as he wanted to tell Jay, or someone else, that he wasn’t feeling well, it wouldn’t do much. Now that he was thinking about his stomach, it was getting harder to ignore. He subtly rubbed his hand over his abdomen under the table, but it didn’t help.
“Where shall I start?” Jay laughed.
“Let’s just finish the worksheet, okay?” Elliot suggested. Working sounded like hell, but at the rate things were going, he doubted he would be in class to help Jay out tomorrow.
“Oh, but to hear you tell it being a good boyfriend means being obscenely overprotective,” Jay replied. He assumed a high voice. “Oh, poor baby, are you okay?”
Jay felt Elliot’s forehead with the back of his hand. It was part of the joke, but his eyes widened upon contact, and he quickly drew his hand away.
“You have a fever,” he said quietly. “You’re sick.” He frowned, and scooted his chair away from Elliot. “You’re probably contagious. You should have told me that before you started kissing me earlier.”
Elliot sighed. Jay was never really one to be sympathetic, but he could’ve used something other than disgust.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
Jay’s brow furrowed. “In all seriousness, you should go home. Rest, and all that.”
“No school bus,” Elliot explained. “And I don’t want to make my grandma drive all the way here. She’s probably busy.”
“I could drive you.”
“You don’t need to skip any more classes,” Elliot replied. To be honest, Jay could probably get away with skipping history every week if he wanted and still maintain an A. But the way Elliot’s stomach was feeling, he might end up throwing up sometime soon, and when that happened he definitely did not want to be in Jay’s Mercedes.
Jay didn’t push. “Suit yourself.”
Elliot returned to his textbook, trying to scan for the information he needed. He flipped a few pages, abandoning Czechoslovakia in favor of more details on the Blitzkrieg. He began reading, but found it nearly impossible to focus. His stomach was churning uncontrollably now. He felt a bubble of air travel up his throat and he burped, loudly enough to draw a few eyes.
“Excuse me,” he muttered.
Jay’s eyes had flicked over to him too, but with a look from Elliot, he turned back to his own book. Elliot swallowed hard, but felt his mouth refill with saliva almost instantly. His stomach twisted and he let out a harsher burp, which made him press a hand over his lips in case it brought anything up. Luckily, it hadn’t.
“You feel ill,” Jay stated matter-of-factly. “Go to the bathroom.”
Elliot didn’t bother to protest. He raised his left hand, as his right hand continued to cradle his abdomen. Mr. Rayport noticed him quickly and walked over to his desk, frowning at Jay as he passed him. Jay had a habit of correcting Mr. Rayport constantly during his lectures, which the teacher rarely appreciated.
“Can I go to the bathroom?” Elliot asked. “I feel sick.”
“You just had lunch,” Mr. Rayport replied. “Wait until after class.”
Elliot sank back in his chair. There was a chance he could make it that long. If not, he could always ask again.
“What is wrong with you?” Jay said harshly. “He’s a human being with free will, stop treating him like a baby.”
“Jay,” Elliot chided softly, but Jay was glaring at Mr. Rayport now, and Mr. Rayport glared right back.
“My classroom has rules, Jay,” he replied sternly. “Some students here actually follow them.”
“Since when has Elliot ever left class without needing to?” Jay insisted. Elliot sighed as his stomach continued to bubble under his hand. Jay was trying to help, but he was definitely only making things worse.
“Perhaps his boyfriend is rubbing off on him,” Mr. Rayport said coolly. “Get back to work.”
“Moron,” Jay muttered. “How bad is it, anyway?”
“Pretty bad,” Elliot admitted. He lay his head down on his desk and closed his eyes, trying to block out the nausea that was quickly becoming unbearable. Jay was silent, but after a minute or so, began absently stroking his hands through Elliot’s hair. It was almost enjoyable, and Elliot could almost forget how awful he was feeling. He stayed like that for a few minutes, his discomfort slowly building until his stomach gave a sudden lurch, sending a wave of liquid up his throat that he struggled to swallow back. He sat up suddenly, trying to calculate if he could make it out of the room in time.
“Elliot?” Jay asked.
“Gonna be sick,” was all he could get out. He scanned for any kind of container and first found Jay’s backpack, lying open on the floor. He picked it up and held it under his chin in time for the first heave, which only sent up a small trickle of watery vomit.
“No, no, don’t throw up in that!” Jay told him, yanking the backpack out of his hands. “I’ll find something else, wait.”
Elliot tried desperately to keep his mouth closed as another heave overtook him. Hot bitter liquid flooded his mouth, making his cheeks puff out. He retched again, shoulders trembling, and he was forced to release the wave of sick all over the desk.
“Oh!” Jay exclaimed. “Oh no! Here, take this.”
He pushed a small plastic bag into Elliot’s hands. Elliot gagged violently, bringing up a stream of vomit that left the bag half full. He could feel himself flushing, see the people turning to stare at him. Without another thought, he got up and rushed out of the room, still holding the bag under his chin.
The nearest boys’ bathroom was maybe 20 yards away. Elliot started for it, going as fast as he could without spilling any vomit from the bag. He had to stop halfway there, doubling over to retch and filling the bag nearly to the brim. He kept going, but movement only made his stomach feel worse, and he could tell he wasn’t empty. He burst through the bathroom door with another heave, aiming into the bag even though he knew it would do nothing. Pale vomit splattered the bathroom floor, and the sound made him gag emptily.
He dropped to his knees in front of a toilet, not bothering to shut the stall door behind him. He burped sickly over the water, bringing up a small splash of sick. He shuddered.
Jay’s voice echoed on the stone walls of the bathroom. Elliot couldn’t bring himself to look up, but a few seconds later, he felt Jay’s hand tentatively resting on his back. He tried to focus on his boyfriend’s presence as he heaved up another sizable amount of vomit.
“I—Elliot…” Jay’s voice was hesitant, and Elliot knew he had trouble with comforting words. But his tone was concerned, and that was all that mattered. He began to rub Elliot’s back as Elliot gagged a few more times, barely bringing up anything.
“I’m sorry,” Jay said nervously. “I probably didn’t help your case there, and…but there’s no way you can possibly get in trouble for that, if this school is anywhere close to…”
“I love you,” Elliot said, his voice hoarse from vomiting. He heaved dryly over the toilet one last time, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I…I love you too,” Jay replied. “And I am going to kill Mr. Rayport.”