Makoto with a bad fever and stomach bug that keep him from getting any sleep with Haru rocking and comforting his boyfriend at some obscene hour of the morning, please? This is my first request. I've been trying to build up the nerve to ask such fantastic people to write for me. P.S.- I love your Free! and Voltron fics!
@queenbeansthelibrarian You’re too kind! So glad you sent this in. I’ve been craving a little Free! action so thanks for the inspiration!
Haruka blinked into the darkness, confusion and drowsiness fogging his sleep-addled mind.
It was two in the morning and he still felt exhausted. So why was he suddenly so awake?
The hairs along the back of his neck prickled with the sensation of Makoto’s warm breath ghosting along his nape. Haruka shivered slightly and felt under the covers for his boyfriend.
Makoto made a small humming noise when Haruka’s fingers stroked up along the ridge of his stomach. He breathed again, a sharp inhale followed by a soft moan.
“Mmm…Mako?” Haruka slurred, turning over to face the other boy. He felt the last traces of sleepiness dissipate almost immediately.
Even in the dark, he could see the way Makoto’s brows were furrowed in discomfort, his lips twitching minutely as he struggled through…what? A nightmare? Indigestion? Haruka was at a loss. Whatever was wrong, Makoto was beginning to squirm restlessly in his sleep.
Haruka touched a finger to the side of his face, traced it upwards along the curve of Makoto’s hairline and brushed back a damp mess of bangs. Pressed up against him, Haruka could tell how much his boyfriend was sweating, even through the thin layer of sheet separating their bodies.
For a moment, Makoto seemed to be trying to nuzzle closer, pressing his face into the dip between Haruka’s collarbone, releasing a hitching breath as his limbs writhed awkwardly beneath the covers. Then he abruptly rolled away, swinging his legs clumsily over the side of the bed with a low groan.
“Makoto?” Haruka sat up behind him, arms looping carefully around his boyfriend’s chest and nose pressing against his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“Stomach,” Makoto slurred, wrapping one arm around his abdomen; the other reached up to hold onto Haruka’s hand. “Feel weird, Haru.”
“You’re really warm,” Haruka said, free hand stroking soothingly down Makoto’s arm. “Do you want some water?”
Makoto swallowed thickly and shook his head, head bowed low. His shoulders rolled with a convulsive tremor and Haruka could feel the muscles coiling beneath his hand.
“I gotta —“ Makoto paused to swallow again, “— bathroom.”
When Makoto pulled out of his arms, Haruka let him go, watching as Makoto stumbled drunkenly into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.
Haruka sat in the dark and waited, uncertain of what to do or how to help.
A few minutes later, he heard the toilet flushing and Makoto emerged, pale and trembling. One arm cradled his stomach and the other was gripping the doorframe like a lifeline.
Makoto gave a shaky nod and belched into his fist before falling face-first back into bed.
“Makoto?” Haruka leaned over his boyfriend, running his fingers through the sweaty mess of hair plastered against Makoto’s neck.
Makoto shivered and pulled the blankets back up around himself.
The boy hiccuped weakly and buried his head in the pillow.
“Jus’ wanna sleep,” he murmured.
“At least drink something,” Haruka tried.
But Makoto was already sound asleep, congested snores slowly filling the silence.
Haruka lay back and frowned up at the ceiling, drifting in and out of a hazy doze for a while. A violent shudder against his back jerked him into wakefulness.
“Hey,” he whispered, rolling over to reach out for the other boy.
There was a muffled choking noise, the wet, garbled sound of gagging.
“Makoto!” Haruka sprang up in alarm. He went to shake his boyfriend and realized that Makoto was still asleep. His body had apparently gone on autopilot and was determined to expel whatever the hell was making him sick whether he was ready or not.
Something splashed onto the pillow and Haruka quickly heaved the unconscious boy into a sitting position. Makoto moaned, eyelashes fluttering open, then closed again. Instinctively, he raised a hand to his mouth as his upper body jerked with a forceful heave. A flood of warm sick was suddenly spilling from between his fingers, dripping down his arm and onto the sheets.
“Shit,” Haruka cursed under his breath, reaching up to move Makoto’s hand away from his mouth just in time for the next wave to splash into both of their laps.
“Oh, god,” Makoto whimpered, burping up a smaller mouthful. He hovered for a moment, panting raggedly, confused.
“It’s all right,” Haruka soothed, running his hand down Makoto’s back. “You’re okay.”
“Haru,” Makoto whispered, finally registering the cooling mess soaking into his lap. When he looked up at Haruka, his eyes were filling with tears.
“Makoto, it’s okay,” Haruka quickly assured, taking the clean edge of the blanket to wipe some of the vomit from Makoto’s mouth and bare chest. “Come on. Don’t do that.”
“I —I’m sorry,” Makoto stammered, dangerously close to crying. “Haru, I’m so sorry.”
“You’re sick,” the other boy said matter-of-factly. “You didn’t mean to.”
“The bed —“
“Can be washed,” Haruka interrupted before the water-works really got started. “Don’t worry about it.”
But Makoto wasn’t paying attention. He sniffled miserably and began balling up the sheets, caught in a frantic litany of, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”
“Makoto,” Haruka placed a gentle hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Stop.”
“But — but I need to wash them.”
Haruka shook his head, carefully easing the soiled fabric out of Makoto’s hands and away from both of them.
“Later. Right now let’s get cleaned up.”
Makoto stared down at the mattress, reached up to wipe at the tears trailing down his cheeks and nodded sadly. He wouldn’t look at Haru.
Haruka gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze and helped Makoto climb out of bed. It was a slow trek to the bathroom with Makoto too dizzy to support most of his considerable weight. He leaned heavily against Haruka, one arm perpetually hugging his stomach.
Once inside, Makoto collapsed to his knees and slumped over the toilet, struggling clumsily with the lid.
“Here,” Haruka helped him set it in place and brushed a few damp strands behind Makoto’s ear to get them out of the line of fire. Not that it really mattered much at this point.
Makoto opened his mouth, panting towards the water as strings of saliva dribbled into the bowl. A deep, guttural belch rolled out of him, followed by a small mouthful of bile.
Haruka rubbed his hand between his boyfriend’s shoulder blades, coaxing up another wet sounding burp.
“You’re all right, Mako,” he shushed. “Don’t fight it.”
“Sorry —” Makoto hiccuped, the noise echoing in the bowl, “—about all this.”
“Stop apologizing.” Haruka tried to keep the agitation out of his voice. “It’s not your fault.”
Makoto convulsed with another belching gag and Haruka heard a much louder splash as he brought up whatever was left in his stomach.
Finished for the moment, Makoto rested his cheek against the rim and Haru rose to retrieve a washcloth. He ran it under warm water and sat down cross-legged behind Makoto.
“Come here,” he coaxed.
Makoto complied, leaning back until his head was resting comfortably against Haruka’s shoulder. His skin was burning, face nearly ashen except for the two flushes of red decorating his cheekbones.
“You’re a mess,” Haruka muttered affectionately as he began cleaning the worst of the drying vomit from his boyfriend’s chest.
“Nuh-uh, sheets are,” Makoto slurred, swallowing thickly. “’S warmer in the dryer.”
“What?” Haruka paused and peered down, concerned.
“Laundry,” Makoto murmured, as if that clarified everything. “It’ll be warm.”
“Are you cold?”
Makoto shook his head, but shivered anyway.
“Everything’s…’s all spinning. Haru?”
“Shh,” Haruka ran his fingers through Makoto’s hair, trying to calm him. “You’re running a fever. That’s all.”
“Yeah,” Makoto breathed, nearly unconscious. “Still need to wash ‘em. Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about that anymore,” Haruka whispered into his hair. Makoto moaned softly, beginning to fidget against him, cramps gurgling in his stomach.
“Hurts,” Makoto curled harder against him, seeking the warmth.
“I’ve got you,” Haru said, hugging his boyfriend to his chest, rocking him a little, hoping to settle him down. “You’re gonna be all right.”
They stayed that way until Makoto was forced to crawl back over to the toilet so he could throw up more air.
Haruka took the opportunity to retrieve their pillows, settling in for the long haul.
The laundry would simply have to wait.