A Bird Named Enza

WHUMPTOBER day 29:

Prompt: "What happened to me?"

Nov(emeto)ber 2022, Day 30: 5 + 1

OCs: Jamal, Nikita

The title fits quite well because this actually is my longest story so far and I just spent the entire night finishing it. It’s already early morning of December 1st where I live, but I hope it still counts as an entry. There are a lot of themes and tropes I love in this one and the relationship between Jamal and Nikita evolves even more. It’s late/early, I’m tired and time was ticking, so proof reading had to be done a bit quicker. Hopefully, there aren’t too many mistakes and you can still enjoy it!

TW: Vomit, illness, mild scat

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A hesitant knock on the door disrupted Jamal’s sleep. He woke up with a jolt and was instantly hit by a jab in the neck. Had he fallen asleep at his desk again? Jamal grimaced and rubbed his stiff muscles. The shorter days and cloudy skies drained his energy. Sooner or later, Jamal would get used to the changes in sunlight exposure and weather and the autumn fatigue would wear off. Until then, he had a hard time getting things done.

 "Hello?“ An insecure voice, followed by some more tapping. Jamal had only been half aware of the sound that had ripped him out of a rather bizarre dream. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and cleared his throat to sound more awake.

 "I’m here!” Rotating his head to get a little crack out of his nape, Jamal got up and rushed to the door. A stocky young man with brown curls and dark eyes was waiting outside, staring at Jamal like he was surprised by him stepping out of his own dorm room. Jamal knew that his name was Karl and that he lived on the same floor. They didn’t share any courses, but they sometimes chatted while brushing their teeth in the morning. It wasn’t that Jamal could write a psychological evaluation of his fellow student, but he definitely hadn’t seen that concerned and insecure expression on his face before.

 "Hey, I hope I’m not bothering you, but I’m a bit worried right now and I didn’t really know who to turn to.“

 "Yeah, sure.” Jamal was confused. Karl had two of his closest friends in the rooms right next to him. He and Jamal got along well, but they weren’t confidants. “Wanna come in?”

 "Ah, no, you should come along.“ Karl pointed his thumb in the direction of the community bathroom. "You’re close with Nikita, aren’t you? I mean, the guy doesn’t have a lot of friends and he made it pretty clear that he wanted me to, uhm, leave, so…”

 "Wait, what’s wrong with Nikita?“ Jamal was suddenly wide awake. "Is he sick?”

 "I don’t know exactly, he didn’t want to tell me.“ Karl rubbed his palms nervously. "He locked himself in a toilet for at least two hours.”

 "Fuck. I’m coming with you.“

 It actually was the other way around – Jamal storming down the corridor with huge steps, Karl tagging along. The bathroom was empty, as usual at this time of day. It was a bright and nicely renovated area with small toilet rooms instead of cubicles with a gap at the bottom. At least a bit more privacy in a place they had to share with everyone else on the floor.

 Jamal took a deep breath and knocked on the only door that was shut tight.

 "Hey, it’s me”, he announced himself. “Can you let me in, Nik?”

 There was a moment of silence. A weird, strained noise. And then, to Jamal’s relief, the door was opened slowly and Nikita peeked out. He looked like death warmed over. Nikita was always pale, but right now his complexion resembled a sickly green. Quickly, before Karl could see the blonde in this miserable state, Jamal slipped in and locked the door behind him again.

 "How do you know?“ Nikita’s voice was cold as ice, but his lips trembled slightly.

 "Karl told me.” Undeterred by his friend’s standoffish demeanor, Jamal put both hands on Nikita’s shoulders. His entire body shivered so hard that Jamal was surprised he could stand at all. “I’m glad he did. You look like absolute shit. Now stop giving me the evil eye and tell me what’s wrong.”

 It was obvious that Nikita struggled with himself. He was all about control and he still had a hard time showing any kind of vulnerability, even towards Jamal. In the end, Nikita’s body made the choice for him as his knees gave in. Gladly, Jamal had trained his fast responses well and he caught Nikita with both arms before he collapsed. Holding him close, Jamal got down on the floor and brushed some sweaty strands of light hair out of Nikita’s forehead.

 "Don’t worry, I got you.“ Jamal felt the heat radiating from Nikita’s body, his unsteady breath and damp skin. There was no question wether he was sick, only what exactly he suffered from. "Come on, Nick, just let me know what’s bothering you. I’ll do what I can to help you.”

 "I… I suddenly felt so sick.“ Nikita exhaled and it seemed like all of his strength and defiance left his body with his breath. He sank against Jamal’s chest and held on to his shirt with one hand. "I was fine after lunch, but then it got so bad I had to leave during class.”

 "Did you have to throw up? Or lost it from the other end?“

 "Nope, not at all.” A humorless laugh escaped Nikita’s lips. “I thought I would, guess why I made a run for the restroom. Been waiting for it ever since. It feels like it’s coming up every second, but it doesn’t. Fuck me.”

 "God, Nik. I wish I had known earlier.“ Jamal hugged Nikita for a moment. He had often joked about Nikita’s claims that he never puked. It was the reason they had bonded in the first place. That night in the locker room when Jamal had found Nikita, dead drunk and sick to his stomach, but unable to purge the poison. Even in this highly intoxicated state, Nikita had needed Jamal’s assistance to vomit. Maybe it was a process his body struggled with for whatever reason. Or Nikita had conditioned himself to hold it in at all costs.

 With a husky moan, Nikita squirmed in Jamal’s arms. The blonde clutched his stomach like he wanted to rip out the pain with bare hands. His face contorted with a silent retch. It looked absolutely excrutiating.

 "We gotta get that stuff out of you.” Jamal grabbed Nikita’s shoulders again and straightened him up just enough to look him in the eyes. “Do you want me to help you?”

 Nikita hesitated. Then he flinched and moaned, probably because of another cramp. He let out a defeated sigh and nodded weakly.

 "Guess I don’t have much of a choice. It can’t be worse than this.“

 "Trust me, it will be a huge relief.” Putting on his most encouraging smile, Jamal moved Nikita closer to the toilet. “Come on, let’s get it over with.”

 Visibly reluctant, Nikita got on his knees and bent over the bowl. Jamal leaned over Nikita’s arched back, putting one hand on his rumbling stomach, the other one on his chin. Nikita tensed in his grip.

 "Try to relax, Nik.“ Jamal touched Nikita’s lips with two fingers, asking to be let in. For a second, it seemed like Nikita would back out, but then he opened his mouth. Jamal rubbed Nikita’s belly in gentle circle, feeling it bubble like overboiling water. When Nikita eased up a bit, Jamal let his fingers slide in. As soon as he touched the slick surface of the tongue, it tried to push him out again. Undaunted by the counterattack, Jamal moved along Nikita’s palate until he reached the back of his tongue, then held it down. It was enough to trigger a first gag.

 Nikita’s head bobbed back to escape the nauseating procedure, but Jamal had a firm grip on his chin. A drip of viscous saliva ran down Jamal’s hand. That was a good sign. Nikita’s body took protective measures against the impending storm tide of gastric acid.

 "I know this is bad, but I promise it won’t take long”, Jamal reassured Nikita as he went in deeper. A violent retch shook Nikita’s body as Jamal’s fingers slipped down his throat. Jamal felt the muscles tightening around his fingers. He gently moved back and forth, ignoring the teeth that dug into the back of his hand and the drool that kept on flowing over his skin. Nikita retched helplessly, his stomach contracting harshly with every heave. Jamal pushed against his abdomen in sync with the convulsions, firmly pressing in and upwards. “You’re almost there, Nik, just let it happen.”

 Nikita choked wetly. His back tensed and curved even more, pushing against Jamal who mimicked his posture, hugging him from behind. It was a weirdly intimate moment, being so close to each other in this deeply private and vulnerable situation. Jamal kept on stroking the back of Nikita’s throat, his slight moves inducing frantic spasms. Nikita’s face was flushed and tears ran from his eyes with each gag Jamal forced out of him. He was close.

 Speeding up his tiny movements, Jamal rubbed against Nikita’s uvula. The blonde jerked forward with another throaty heave, causing Jamal’s fingers to thrust in even deeper. Every single muscle in Nikita’s body seemed to tighten up and cramp all at once until suddenly, a surge of hot liquid gushed over Jamal’s hand.

 "There you go, get it all out.“ Jamal let his fingertips stroke down Nikita’s tongue as he pulled back, eliciting another retch from him. Before Jamal had a chance to get his hand out of the way, Nikita puked up a much bigger surge of orange mush. Jamal felt the thick, warm fluid and a few chunks slide over his skin and he had to swallow a gag himself. Yes, it was gross, but he couldn’t let it show when Nikita had finally let down his guard.

 Lurching dangerously close to the vomit-spattered bowl, Nikita gurgled up more of his meal. The color and texture looked disturbingly close to pumpkin soup, probably what had been on the cafeteria’s menu today. It splashed back and coated the white ceramic walls in pureed Hokkaido. Jamal pulled Nikita even closer to prevent him from dunking into the rising lake of barf. With only one clean hand at his disposal, Jamal stroked Nikita’s hitching chest with his thumb while he held him up.

 Bigger orange lumps fell out of Nikita’s mouth and plopped heavily into the puke below. He coughed and spat several times before he slackened in Jamal’s grip.

 "You did great”, Jamal smiled and sat up, pulling Nikita with him. The blonde looked even worse than before, eyes half closed, his face reddish and covered in sweat, tears and vomit. Jamal wiped off the mess, then cautiously leaned Nikita into a corner to keep him stable and upright. He flushed and cleaned the toilet, then thoroughly washed the sticky throw-up from his hand. Finally, he returned to Nikita. “Feeling better?”

 Nikita nodded faintly. It was enough for Jamal to decide upon a change of location. It was about time his friend could snuggle into his own bed instead of lying on the cold restroom floor.

 -

 Shivering and exhausted, Nikita was sitting on his bed, blanket pullet up to his chin. He had his own electric kettle in his room, so Jamal poured him a cup of ginger tea. Curled up in himself, Nikita took small sips while staring into the void. Jamal sat down next to him.

 "How y’re holding up?“, he asked, stroking Nikita’s head.

 "I don’t know. Still nauseous.” Nikita bit his lip. “It’s okay, you can go now. I’m going to sleep anyways, I’m done with this day.”

 "No way, I’m not gonna leave you alone.“

 "…and that’s how you’re gonna get yourself sick.” With a grim expression, Nikita carefully drank from the steaming hot beverage, then put it away on the nightstand. “I’m not a kid. I can take care of myself.”

 "So what. Maybe it’s just food poisoning.“ Jamal shrugged and leaned back. "I’m going nowhere. Bed’s big enough for both of us. By the way, I pretty much pulled the puke out of your stomach with my bare hands. If this is contagious, I’ve probably caught it already.”

 "Whatever. Don’t complain if I say I told you so.“ Nikita tried to act unmoved, but only a moment later, he froze, eyes slightly widened. "Hand me a bucket.”

 "Damn it.“ Jamal jolted up. He wasn’t sure if Nikita would actually throw up on his own this time, but he didn’t want to find out the hard – or rather, soft and mushy way. The fact that Nikita cupped his mouth with one hand definitely wasn’t a good sign. "Try to hold it in!”

With a big leap, Jamal plunged towards the desk and grabbed the trash can. Immediately back on his feet, he spun around and got back to Nikita with two strides. He placed the bin under Nikita’s lap, just in time before a spurt of amber liquid burst from the blonde’s lips. Jamal held Nikita’s head in place while he gagged up mouthful after mouthful of runny vomit. It hit the scrunched up paper and wrappers with a crinkling sound.

 "Tea didn’t want to stay down, mh?“ Every last bit of color drained from Nikita’s face as he burped up a slimy mixture of ginger brew and bile. For a while, Nikita kept on hanging over the trash bin, eyes closed, mouth open, long strands of drool clinging to his lip. Jamal watched him closely. "Think you’re done?”

 After a few more seconds, Nikita spat out and replied with a nod. Jamal got a paper tissue from a box on the desk, then wiped off Nikita’s mouth. Fortunately, there was a trash bag in the bin that he could take out easily and knot up on top to seal away the sour odor. Good thing Nikita was such a tidy person. Jamal put in another bag and placed the bucket next to the bed.

 "Gonna get rid of this, try to rest.“

 Nikita growled something unintelligable before he sank back into his pillow and pulled the covers all the way up. When Jamal returned, Nikita already slept deeply and soundly. Jamal slowly lay down behind him. It was a tight fit on the matress, but at least Jamal was sure he would notice if Nikita got sick again. He cuddled up to his friend and it wasn’t long before he dozed off.

 -

 When Jamal opened his eyes again, it was almost dark in the room. He wasn’t sure what had woken him up – a movement? A noise? Nikita was still huddled against him, breathing calmly, but something wasn’t right. It was the unmistakable stench of partly digested and fermented food, mixed with bile and stomach acid. Jamal pushed himself up to assess the situation. Nikita had vomited in his sleep. A heap of brownish-orange chunks piled up right next to his mouth, part if it smeared on his cheek.

 With a quiet sigh, Jamal rolled out of bed. Armed with the entire box of tissues, he picked up the soggy mass. At least it was mostly solids – it actually looked a lot like thick baby food with some bigger lumps. As gently as possible, Jamal cleaned the sick from Nikita’s skin. It hadn’t been long since Nikita had thrown up, the puke hadn’t dried yet and could easily be wiped away. Jamal was conflicted. Nikita’s barf mountain had left a stain on the pillowcase, but it seemed rather superficial. Leaving Nikita on a dirty cushion obviously wasn’t an ideal solution. If it meant that he didn’t need to be disturbed and could sleep through the night, it still seemed like the better option.

 Jamal took off his shirt and placed it in front of Nikita’s face. It covered the wet spot and offered extra layers of protection if Nikita expelled more of his stomach contents. Weird how Jamal’s hands-on assistance seemed to have pulled a plug. Now the vomit had literally spilled out of Nikita on its own. It was probably better for him.

 Nikita looked so different while he was asleep, almost peaceful. Jamal wondered if it was cold were Nikita came from. It would have fit him. Everything about him was so light – his hair, his skin, even his eyelashes. He belonged in the snow. Absentmindedly, Jamal watched Nikita for a little while until a yawn reminded him that a good night’s rest wouldn’t hurt him either. He made himself comfortable again and hoped that both of them would be awakened by the sun in the morning.

 -

 Actually, it was a thud that ended Jamal’s slumber this time. The dull noise was startling enough to drown any sleepiness in adrenaline. Jamal looked up and found the bed next to him empty. Nikita was nowhere to be seen. Anxiously, Jamal raised himself – and discovered Nikita lying behind the bed. So the source of the mysterious sound had been Nikita’s body hitting the floor.

 Jamal jumped out of bed and helped Nikita into a sitting position.

 "What the fuck are you doing?” The words sounded way more accusatory than Jamal had intended. Nikita looked up with a frown.

“How does it look like to you?” As Jamal didn’t answer, Nikita pursed his lips. “I wanted to go the bathroom because what else would I do right now?”

“Have you noticed the bucket right next to your bed? You should have, you’ve used it before.”

“Oh come on, do I really have to explain?” Nikita attempted to get up on his own, but he lacked the strength in his legs. There was a feverish gleam in his eyes.

“You should have still woken me up”, Jamal sighed, put both arms around Nikita and lifted him up.

“I don’t need you to wipe my ass”, Nikita grumbled and tried not to lean on Jamal too heavily.

“Trust me, you need a whole lot more than that if you don’t even make it to the toilet.” Just to be safe, Jamal grabbed the trash bin with his free hand. “Why are you so stubborn?”

“I’m not.” Nikita turned his head to the side, but Jamal still noticed a tinge of red on his cheeks. It stood out against his pallid face. Maybe he was actually way more embarrassed than sulky. Didn’t change the fact that he was an idiot.

Jamal put his arm around Nikita’s upper body to support him if he should stumble again. After a few steps, Nikita gave up his futile resistance and sank against Jamal. By the time they entered the bathroom, he was bent double, holding his stomach and moving along with a weird shuffle. He probably had to clutch his butt cheeks tightly to prevent an accident. Still, he tried to push Jamal away as they entered the toilet room.

“You wait outside. No discussion.” As urgent as matters were, Nikita didn’t move a single inch further.

“Hey, I’m not gonna judge you.” Jamal’s voice was much softer than before. “And I really don’t want you to go through this alone.”

“No way”, Nikita groaned and snatched the bucket from Jamal’s hand.

“Fine. But don’t lock the door, I need to get to you if you pass out or something.” With a deep sigh, Jamal closed the door behind Nikita and leaned against one of the sinks. Of course, Nikita had a right to privacy. Maybe he had pushed him too much. He just wished Nikita would understand that there was no need to be ashamed. He was sick, he couldn’t help it. If he felt better once he had relieved himself, it was all that mattered.

Through the closed door, Jamal heard Nikita moan, followed by a splatter. A retch, then even more splatter. Jamal winced in sympathy. Good thing Nikita had a receptacle on both ends. Judging from the sounds, he emptied himself quite forcefully in either direction. The groans and gags and sighs he produced left no doubt that he was in pain. Jamal wanted to hug him and hold up the bin for him and rub his back or his stomach, but he knew his presence would only make things worse for Nikita. He had to loosen up and let everything flow out of him freely, which he wouldn’t do while someone was watching him.

After what seemed like forever, Jamal heard the toilet flush. There was the patter of liquid hitting liquid, then a second flush. Unsteady steps approached the door and finally, it was pushed open. Nikita’s face had turned green, lips slightly parted, legs trembling. He didn’t seem to notice that there was still viscid vomit dripping from his chin.

“Come here, Nik.” Jamal pulled the shivering blonde into a close embrace, even if it meant to get some puke on his chest. Jamal had cursed Nikita’s thick skull not too long ago, but he couldn’t be mad at him. The poor guy felt horribly sick and it hurt to see him suffer like this. Jamal stroked back Nikita’s hair and placed a kiss on his forehead. He didn’t even think twice about it. “You’re doing great. Now let’s get you cleaned up and back to bed.”

With the smallest of steps, Jamal guided Nikita to one of the basins and washed his face. Then he made sure to wipe off the stains from his own skin. Even though Nikita had apparently emptied the bucket into the toilet, the trash bag was still blotted with sick, so Jamal discarded it. He pulled Nikita closer to hold him upright before they slowly made their way back to Nikita’s room. It worried Jamal how quiet his friend had become. Suddenly, he almost wished for some snarky remark.

It was the same procedure as before – Jamal tucked Nikita in and put a new bag in the bin. Then he crawled under the covers and hugged Nikita from behind.

“Is it a little better?”, he asked, hoping for at least some kind of answer. “Think you can sleep?”

Nikita nodded and moved even closer. A faint smile flitted across Jamal’s face. He waited for Nikita’s breath to slow down until he closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift off as well.

-

Pale morning light seeped in through the fogged up window as Jamal was alarmed by a sudden motion. He blinked in confusion, still drowsy, and saw Nikita bending over his side of the bed. A silent curse left Jamal’s lips, then he scrambled to his knees. He put a hand on Nikita’s forehead to get his hair out of the way and keep him over the bucket. With the other hand, he began to rub his heaving back.

The spasmodic convulsions of his muscles forces long, agonized retches out of Nikita. They sounded harsh enough to chafe his throat sore. Eventually, the empty gagging turned wet, then productive. Beige vomit burbled from Nikita’s mouth and landed in the trash bin with a wet, thick plop.

“Yeah, that’s it, you’re a pro by now.” Jamal continued with the back rubs, feeling Nikita’s muscles tense and jerk under his fingers. It was a good thing he was holding up the blonde’s head, considering how heavy it rested on his hand. Nikita had puked up his guts and he still couldn’t stop, no wonder he was at the end of his rope. “It’s okay, Nik, get it all out. I won’t let you fall, you can let yourself go and just vomit it up.”

Nikita sank into Jamal’s grip. To make sure he stayed in place and got his cramping abdomen away from the mattress, Jamal put his other arm around Nikita and supported him at the chest. Nikita’s eyes were barely open as he spewed murky liquid and soggy globs. It wasn’t much that came up, but it was honestly astounding that he had left anything inside of him he could eat backwards. The gags turned into coughs until Nikita choked up some finely shredded pieces of what might have been carrots. The next retches squeezed nothing but measly spatters of bile out of Nikita’s wrung out stomach. Finally, the heaves turned into pants.

Careful not to put pressure on his belly, Jamal pulled Nikita back on the mattress. The blonde looked so drained that Jamal expected him to instantly fall asleep again, but Nikita rolled over and buried his face against Jamal’s shoulder. Jamal held him tight and let his fingers run through the fine blond hair.

“Shhh, I’m here, I won’t leave you alone”, he soothed Nikita. “You’ll be better soon, you’ll be okay, this will be over before you know it.”

Nikita didn’t say a word, he just clung to Jamal like he was his lifeline. His back hitched with convulsive gasps, but he didn’t make a sound, so Jamal wasn’t sure if he was crying. Jamal cradled Nikita ever so softly, stroking his back and his head until his friend relaxed in his arms. This time, Jamal didn’t turn him around. So what if Nikita threw up on his neck, there was no way he would let him go right now. Cuddled up snuggly, they finally slept without a rude awakening.

-

It was almost noon when Jamal woke up again. He lay still and kept Nikita in an embrace until the blonde began to move. Bleary eyed, Nikita looked up and broke into a yawn. He still had an ashen complexion and cracked lips, but the expression of constant nausea had turned into exhaustion.

“Is it just me or are you looking a little more alive?”, Jamal smiled and brushed Nikita’s cheek.

“It’s been worse.” Nikita shrugged, then wrinkled his nose. “The bucket’s still filled, isn’t it?”

“Yup, filled and fermented for a couple of hours. I’ll get rid of it.”

With a slight reluctance, Jamal left the bed and disposed of the congealed mass of puke. He put in a new trashbag and made fresh tea. Nikita actually managed to drink half of the cup and keep it down, which was definitely an improvement. Jamal sat down next to him, leaning back against the wall behind the headrest.

“You better stay in bed today”, he said with a glance at Nikita. “It’s been a lot for you.”

“Yeah… I guess.” The blonde looked tired enough to fall asleep again in an instant.

“No objections? That’s unusua-aaaahhhhhhhhhrrrrrlllll.” Interrupted mid-sentence, Jamal projectile vomited all over the blanket and his bare chest. Nikita stared at him, wide-eyed. Jamal was completely flabbergasted himself. There had been no warning – no nausea, no buildup, no drooling or retching. The sludgy brown flood had just shot out of him with a sudden explosion. Quick-witted in spite of his shock, Nikita grabbed the bucket and pushed it under Jamal’s face. Utterly confused, Jamal didn’t understand why Nikita would do such a thing until another massive gush of puke spurted out of his mouth, filling up a quarter of the bin in one fell swoop.

A hand stroked up and down Jamal’s back as he gurgled up a chunky stew that barely resembled the beef stir fry he had eaten for lunch the day before. As his retches became harder, shaking Jamal’s body with abrupt jolts, he worked up a thicker mash of rice, meat shreds and bits of broccoli that slipped over his tongue and plunged into the vomit lake below him. Some of them drowned instantly, some stayed on the surface, covered in a glistening sheen. Just seconds later, Jamal’s stomach churned again and pushed up more of the lumpy gloop. Several more gags followed, but they remained unproductive.

“I didn’t think it would happen so quickly”, Nikita sighed and wiped Jamal’s face with one of the paper tissues from the box that was still placed on the nightstand. Groaning, Jamal lifted his head.

“Don’t say it”, he croaked, throat sore from the forceful expulsion of his stomach contents.

“I…”

“Nik, no.”

“…told you so.” Nikita put the dangerously full bucket away and went on to clean the puke from Jamal’s chest. “And I’m glad you didn’t listen.”

“I might change my mind in the next few hours, but so am I.” Jamal forced a strained smile. “By the way, sorry for barfing all over your bed.”

“I guess that’s fair when you caught it from me. And you got most of it on the covers, so it’s easier to clean up.”

“But you’re still sick!”

“Yeah, but I’m much better already, so stop worrying.” Nikita stroked over Jamal’s head. “You know what? I’ll get rid of the mess and then we switch to your room and get cozy. Agreed?”

“Mhm”, Jamal muttered and closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure how much time he head until the next wave, not even on which end it would come out. It would be a long day after a long night and Jamal dreaded what lay ahead. But for some reason, he was still happy. Maybe he had been the bigger idiot all along.

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Archive of our own: Up all night to get Bucky

Nov(emeto)ber 2022, Day 27: Beach/pool setting

OCs: Corey, Jesse

I was so determined not to be late with any submission, but here we go. This was inspired by a similar video and I couldn’t get it out of my head. Vomit + water is just such a nice combination.

TW: Vomit, alcohol

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He shouldn’t have touched the alcohol. Corey had known from the very beginning that it was a grave mistake. He never drank. Being as obsessed with sports and an overall healthy lifestyle as he was, it just didn’t fit into his strict diet and exercise regime. Problem was – how was Corey supposed to be the only abstinent one in the entire team without losing face? Especially in front of Dexton and his minions.

Needless to say, Dexton chugged the stuff like it was water. His wannabe gang was mainly responsible for smuggling in the alcohol. The track and field club had been allowed to throw a beachside party to celebrate their successful season. It was still warm enough to go for a swim and hang out until late at night. Of course, the high school students had promised to behave and stay sober – they adhered to that rule until the trainer left, then the hidden bottles came out.

With everyone carelessly downing pre-mixed cocktails, beer and hard liquor, Corey couldn’t possibly refuse. Even Jesse was sipping on a vivid blue drink, and he was a year younger than him. Trying to act all casual like he was used to it, Corey picked a creamy looking cocktail that smelled sweet enough to stomach. The bitter taste still came through, it burned in his mouth and caused a disgusting warm feeling in his belly. Corey hated it, but he pulled through.

Things were looking up when Corey had the chance to hang out with Jesse. They sat on the edge of the wooden dock, let their naked feet dangle into the water and talked. After Corey had taken care of Jesse when the younger boy had been sick during their trip to a meet, there was a new sense of closeness between them. Corey had held up a bag for Jesse when he had thrown up at least five times on their bus ride back home and he had snapped at anyone who dared to make fun of him. It must have been a nightmarish experience for Jesse, but Corey had tried anything to make it a little more tolerable.

“I’m so jealous of you”, Jesse sighed, looking out on the ocean. The low-lying sun cast a warm glow on his big blue eyes. “Wish I could leave this shitshow behind.”

“Okay, wanna deal with exit exams for me?”, Corey grinned and took a swig of his drink. As bad as it tasted, at least it helped to calm his nerves. Being this close to Jesse, watching his radiant smile and the adorable dimples on his cheeks, never failed to make Corey’s heart beat faster.

“No way!” Jesse pulled a face and let out a deep sigh. “School sucks so bad. I wish every day could be like this.”

“If you find someone who pays you for staring at the ocean, go ahead.” Corey didn’t mention that he would probably pay Jesse to watch him while he gazed at the waves dreamily. He had never liked someone the way he liked Jesse, and it kind of turned him into a creep. Good thing no one could read his mind. “But then again, it wouldn’t be special if you had it every day.”

“Guess you have a point.” Jesse turned towards Corey with that one of a kind look of his that could easily melt ice. “It’s weird when you think about, right? Why does flattening your butt on some rock hard wood and getting your feet wet feel so nice?”

“That’s what he said.” The words escaped Corey before he thought twice about it, but they made Jesse laugh, so he didn’t regret it. Caught up in the conversation and Jesse’s eyes and the occasional touch of their arms, Corey didn’t keep track of how much he drank. Jesse got them new cocktails after they had finished their first round. Of course Corey thanked him and kept on going. He already had the reputation of being a killjoy in his own grade, it was not how he wanted to be seen by a cheerful person like Jesse.

After a while, Jesse headed off to take a leak. Corey leaned back and suddenly noticed how dizzy he was. The dock felt unsteady, like it was moving with the waves that softly lapped against the wooden pillars. Was he already drunk? Corey was pretty sure he hadn’t consumed that much alcohol, but the burning sensation in his stomach, paired with the vertigo, flooded his body with nausea. It lingered in the back of his throat with a nagging pulse.

Corey wasn’t well, and it kept on getting worse by the second. His insides were clearly upset at the attempt to poison them with a toxic chemical. The pungent, yet overly sweet taste of the cocktails returned to Corey’s mouth with a throaty burp. He broke into a sweat, and it wasn’t just a side effect of the unfamiliar substance he had downed so recklessly. Being ridiculed for shying away from alcohol was one thing. Proving everyone that he was a first-time drinker that also happened to be a lightweight was a whole different beast.

And still, Corey’s stomach was churning like an out-of-control washing machine that was about to overflow. He cursed himself for giving in to the peer pressure, but it was too late. Corey pushed himself up and staggered towards the end of the dock like a landlubber on his first boat trip. If he had to lose his drinks, at least he wanted to grant himself the tiniest bit of privacy.

With his whole world spinning around him, water and sky switching places as they pleased, Corey needed all of his usually excellent body control to prevent falling into the sea. Stopping at the very last moment before the wooden planks ended, Corey bent at the waist and puked up an opaque, slightly viscous liquid. It came up just like that without any retches, shooting out of his mouth like water from a garden hose.

Just as Corey’s stomach muscles were about to clench again to defy the rules of regular peristalsis, he was suddenly pushed from behind. Being already hunched over and anything but steady on his legs, Corey had no chance to prevent a fall. Face first, he plunged into the milky cloud of vomit he had expelled into the ocean.

Paddling with arms and legs, Corey struggled back to the surface. Under normal circumstances, he was a good swimmer. Right now, his head spun out of control and he felt miserably sick. His body had been interrupted mid-heave, but it wasn’t done purging the harmful substance. A harsh contraction in Corey’s belly propelled his stomach contents up his esophagus and out of his mouth. Light brown puke poured straight into the water in front of his face. The next gush followed immediately, spreading out and diffusing into a blurry haze at the edges.

Wincing in disgust, Corey kicked and moved his arms to get away from the buoyant barf. He didn’t come far before another wave of regurgitated cocktails spilled from his lips. It brought up chunks of the chicken strips and salad he had eaten for lunch. The sight of his upchucked meal, combined with the sour, alcoholic stench, was enough to make Corey gag up even more of the rich and creamy drink, speckled with shreds of green and scraps of white meat. The bigger lumps sank into the warm water.

When the violent bout finally gave him a break, Corey looked up to see Dexton, Birch and Chuck towering over him on the dock. Birch was in swimming trunks, still dripping wet. He had probably been splashing around nearby as Corey spewed his cocktails into the sea. Dexton and Chuck had been hanging out at the campfire, too far away to get to the end of the walkway in time to give Corey a push right after the first eruption.

“Look who’s swimming in his own puke”, Chuck cackled. His red nose and cheeks gave away that he wasn’t quite sober himself.

“That’s what the asshole deserves for hurling all over me”, Dexton growled. “How long I’ve waited to take revenge on barf boy.”

“The fucking pussy couldn’t even handle two drinks.” Birch’s smug expression gave another clue that he was the prime suspect.

Corey wanted to reply. He wanted to scream that he had only thrown up on Dexton because the idiot had been right in front of him, shoving a phone in Corey’s face. Right after Corey had already been sick twice, which should have been a decent enough warning. But as soon as Corey opened his mouth, thick vomit gurgled out of him, creating bubbles on top of the ocean surface. Unsurprisingly, the reaction was hysterical laughter.

Coughing and gagging, Corey fought to stay afloat. Even the soft waves were enough to leave him disoriented and dizzy. He felt weak and nauseous and drained. Climbing out at the dock wasn’t an option with his self-declared arch nemesis and his guard dogs waiting for him. They would most likely push him back, and Corey wasn’t even sure if he had the strength and coordination to get up there in the first place. The brainless idiots seemed to find this hilarious, but Corey was gripped by panic.

Just when he tried to scream for help without instantly starting to puke again, his classmates from hell were hit by a huge flood of orange liquid, ice cubes and lemon slices.

“Are you fucking insane?” It was Jesse’s voice. Corey could barely see him behind Dexton, Birch and Chuck and he didn’t sound like himself at all. Each of his words was spat out in anger, trembling and menacing at the same time. Not to mention that he had just drenched his three seniors in an entire bowl of sticky, sugary fruit punch. As they spun around, Jesse dove into the water, fully clothed. He swam towards Corey, hugged him from behind and tilted back his head, making sure it was resting on his shoulder above the water surface.

The smaller boy struggled towing Corey along, but he fought through. The shift in position and the unusual motion were enough to force a spatter of vomit out of Corey. It ran down his cheeks and made him choke. Jesse turned Corey’s face to the side to let the liquid flow out of his mouth.

“We need help!” Corey flinched as Jesse screamed right next to his ear. “Someone, please, we need to get him out of the water!”

A dark haired figure approached – it was Andrew, another one of Corey’s classmates. Corey’s eyesight was so blurry that he only recognized his fellow student when the sturdy boy was right in front of him. Andrew put his arm around Corey from the other side and with joint forces, they swam to the shore. When they were close enough to reach the ground with their feet, Andrew took over and embraced Corey’s upper body. He dragged him onto the beach and laid him in the sand, carefully rolling him to the side.

Helplessly surrendered to his wasted body, Corey expelled a thin beige fluid. He felt a gentle hand stroking back the wet strands of his hair and caressing his cheek.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now”, Jesse soothed him. He lifted up Corey’s head and placed it on his lap, not caring about the runny vomit that spilled over Corey’s lips in a series of small dashes. “There you go, get it out of your system.”

“So-sorry”, Corey panted, breathless and completely exhausted. The thought of his own puke soiling Jesse’s leg was horrifying, even in his worn out state.

“Wait, what are you talking about?” There was subtle change in Jesse’s tone. He still tried to remain calm, but he failed to hide a slight shudder. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I… I didn’t notice you were drunk, I should have never left you alone. Then I searched for you at the beach like a moron until someone told me what these bastards did.”

“You saved me.” A weary smile lit up Corey’s face until he remembered what he had just tried to apologize for. “I’m sorry for… you know… I didn’t mean to throw up on you.”

“I don’t care.” Jesse began to stroke Corey’s head. It felt good. Comforting. “You didn’t drown, fuck the rest. I can easily wash it off. Don’t try to hold it in if you need to be sick again.”

Overwhelmed by fatigue and a wave of emotions he couldn’t grasp, Corey closed his eyes. Someone was yelling, not far away from him, but still sounding distant.

“What the hell were you thinking? You could have killed him!”

“Is this funny to you?” Another voice, equally outraged. “Would you still laugh if he had drowned?”

“You crossed a line here, dumbasses. Stay away from him, you’ve done enough damage already.”

Corey was confused. No one was laughing about him – quite the contrary, there were several of his teammates jumping to his defence. He didn’t have to worry about Dexton and his goons anymore, he could finally get some rest. Corey knew he should take off his wet clothes first, but the evening was warm and it felt so nice to rest on Jesse’s lap. Before he knew it, Corey had fallen asleep.

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Archive of our own: Up all night to get Bucky

Nov(emeto)ber 2022, Day 28: The token made a mess prompt

OCs: Isaiah, Luka

Not gonna lie, making a huge mess is one of my favorite tropes ever. Especially in a public setting! It’s just straightforward gross goodness, even though poor Isaiah might disagree. I had lots of fun writing and it even fit the season.

TW: Vomit, illness

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Like every year, once fall had begun, the days until Christmas flew by in a timelapse. To avoid getting caught up in last-minute stress, Luka and Isaiah had decided to buy their presents early. They had planned a trip to a large shopping mall for maximum choice in a compact area. Conveniently, there was a direct bus stopping right in front of the mall. It was barely a 30 minutes trip.

Everything was fine when they met at the station close to their college. Isaiah was a bit tired, even more so than usual. Not a big obstacle to overcome if he could enjoy the rest of the holiday season without any hassle. The bus was surprisingly crowded for the time of day – other people probably had the exact same idea. Isaiah and Luka sat down at the two free middle seats in the back row for a bit of Christmas gift brainstorming.

About ten minutes later, Isaiah began to feel unwell. The burrito he had eaten for lunch weighed down his stomach like he had swallowed it whole. It triggered an instant anxiety that only added to the persistent queasiness. Isaiah had been carsick before and the driver wasn’t necessarily gentle with his maneuvers. When Isaiah had covered the inside of Tiago’s mother’s car with his puke, it hadn’t only been induced by his alcohol intake, but just as much by the winding mountain road. At least it was a much shorter ride today.

“So I found this awesome recipe for spiked mulled wine that we absolutely have to try, I’m getting winter bonfire Christmas S'mores party vibes, are you with me?” Luka’s eyes were beaming, cheeks flushed. He was already in full blown festive mood and Isaiah would have loved to join in. He was a winter’s child, way more comfortable in the cold than in summer heat. Snow was probably his favorite thing ever. If only it hadn’t been for the brick in Isaiah’s belly that demanded all of his attention.

“Oh… yeah… sounds great.” It was a lame response, and Luka noticed. He gave Isaiah a slap on the back of his head.

“Don’t tell me Mr. Freeze is turning into a Scrooge.”

“Sure, I’m thinking tropical vacation this year.” Isaiah rolled his eyes and instantly regretted it as a wave of vertigo washed over him. He should have probably looked out of the window, but there was a woman in the seat next to him. Staring rigidly in her direction would have been highly uncomfortable and borderline creepy. “It’s just… I’m not sure about Tiago’s present. He’s still mad at me and I want to make things right without looking like a suck-up.”

“I get it, man.” Luka sighed and placed his hand on Isaiah’s shoulder. “The guy needs to calm the fuck down, it’s not like you barfed on purpose. Don’t worry too much, he’ll be fine once his mom allows him to borrow the car again.”

“I hope so.” Isaiah already regretted bringing back the vivid memory of being violently sick in a moving vehicle, even though it had successfully diverted Luka from his current issue. He was painfully aware of how full he was. The amount of food filling up his stomach, sloshing around in the gingerbread milkshake he had indulged in for dessert, added another dimension of threat to the unpleasant situation. If he couldn’t hold it down, there was a lot that would come up. And this time, he wasn’t in a car with his friends, but in a public bus full of strangers.

With a deep breath, Isaiah put a hand on his stomach. A subdued, but constant pain lingered in the back of his head. Had the driver turned up the heating system or was it just him breaking out in a sweat? The air was stuffy, almost viscous as it filled his lungs. Isaiah felt it gliding along his uvula. A sudden retch burst out of him and he tried to disguise it as a muted cough.

“You’re not getting a cold, are you?” Of course, Luka had realized something was wrong – no surprise when he was sitting right next to Isaiah. The redhead looked up to check what station they approached. It was about ten minutes until they would arrive at their destination. Isaiah really didn’t want to get off the bus and wait half an hour for the next one. It wouldn’t make much of a difference anyways, he still had to sit through the rest of the ride either way.

“The air’s just dry because of the heater”, Isaiah tried to talk his way out once again. Actually, his mouth was anything but dry. There seemed to be a special offer on saliva today. With a straight face, Isaiah kept on swallowing and swallowing. His chest hitched with a burp, which earned him a disapproving glance from the woman at the window. “Sorry. Must be the beans.”

“Would have been worse if it came out the other end.” Luka grinned. There was no way he would miss the opportunity for a fart joke.

“I’m saving that for the way back”, Isaiah declared with a strained smile. He felt sick to his stomach. The abdominal muscles under his hand clenched tightly, pushing up a sour liquid with the vague taste of cumin. Isaiah’s eyes widened for a moment, then he pressed them shut and forced himself to swallow the vomit back down. Maybe getting out wasn’t such a bad idea after all, but the next stop was nowhere in sight.

Lips pinched tightly, breathing in through the nose, Isaiah tried to stop his digestive system from shifting into reverse gear. It was hard to fight an automated process, especially when the entire muscles of his upper body worked together, contracting harshly to pump out his stomach. The rush of panic as the redhead understood that he was about to lose control poured an entire gasoline canister into the flames of his nausea. He would hurl in front of everyone in the bus and there was nothing he could do about it.

Or maybe there was. Unexpectedly, the vehicle came to a halt. Had they reached a station? No one got up and the doors didn’t open, so it was probably just a red light. At least they didn’t move anymore. Isaiah found new hope that the break would grant him enough recovery time to make it to the next stop without tossing his lunch. He didn’t dare to part his lips, but he inhaled deeper and slower through his nostrils. It would be alright. He could do this.

Then the lights turned green and the bus accelerated with a sudden jerk.

The abrupt jolt hit Isaiah like a fist in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t even groan before a surge of thick liquid shot up his throat. His hands flew up to his lips just in time before his cheeks puffed out. Swallowing wasn’t an option, the vomit had already flooded his mouth entirely.

“Isa?” Luka’s voice, distorted by a static in Isaiah’s ears. “Are you going to be sick?”

Isaiah couldn’t answer. He desperately tried to hold it in, but more and more custardy fluid kept on coming up until finally, the seal burst. Creamy, light beige puke filled up the cup his hands formed in front of his mouth. It spilled over on top and splashed on Isaiah’s lap. The woman sitting next to him screamed and recoiled in horror.

At this point, everything added to Isaiah’s nausea. The movement of the bus. The warm throw-up covering his palms and seeping into his pants. The sour stench of rancid butter. Helplessly, Isaiah lurched forward and projectile vomited all over the floor. More people let out sounds of shock and disgust, some backed away to get out of the splash zone.

With eyes staring at him from every direction, Isaiah was shaken by a violent retch. Unable to control himself, the redhead noisily gargled up another fountain of puke. Grainy soup with lumps of beef, rice, black beans and whole kernels of corn cascaded from his mouth onto his legs, the ground and some of the adjacent seats. The spicy salad burned even more than on its way down, probably because of the gastric acid that accompanied it.

“There’s some kid throwing up like crazy back here!”, a man screamed through the entire bus, just in case anyone hadn’t noticed yet.

“I know!”, the driver yelled back. “Everyone’s gonna get out at the next station, you can use your ticket at the replacement bus.”

Part of the revulsion directed at Isaiah turned into annoyance. He trembled all over his body while his muscles wouldn’t stop spasming rhythmically. A long, sickly belch bubbled up from his stomach, soon turning into a wretched gag.

“Mom, it stinks!”, a little girl complained. “It makes me sick!”

“Pinch your nose, sweetheart”, the mother tried to calm her, unable to hide her own nerves. “We can leave in a second.”

“Drunk by lunchtime, that’s why our country’s in such a bad state”, an elder man grumbled.

“Can you guys calm down for a second?” Luka put his arm around Isaiah’s shoulders. “He’s not drunk, he’s sick, so leave him alone!”

“Yeah, some people should maybe stay away from public transport if they can’t keep their food down”, the woman next to Isaiah huffed snidely. She was pressed against the window to keep as much distance as possible in the confined space. The overwhelming feeling of shame wrung out Isaiah’s stomach like a wet towel. A chunky mush was squeezed up his esophagus and plopped into the congealed puddle on his knees. Worst thing was, it didn’t happen quietly – every bout of vomiting forced loud retches and sickening gurgles out of him.

Isaiah wasn’t done spewing the vile mixture of minced burrito and milkshake as the bus finally came to a halt. Luka, who obviously had enough of the public humiliation, put both arms around Isaiah’s upper body and dragged the puking redhead towards the door. With his mouth gaping wide open, Isaiah expelled a trail of vomit the entire way. He almost slipped in the barf he had projectiled over a remarkable area earlier. The sudden movement sparked another burst of nausea. Isaiah doubled over and hurled up a massive gush of bile and undigested food all over his shoes.

“Hang in there, Isa, we’re almost in the clear”, Luka encouraged Isaiah while he guided him out of the bus. To make things even worse, Isaiah’s eyes were overflowing with tears. He felt horribly sick and embarrassed. He was covered in his own puke that stuck to his skin and drenched his clothes. And they were stranded in the outskirts of the city. There was no way a filthy, reeking mess like him could enter another bus – especially when he still hadn’t finished throwing up.

Luka led his friend a few steps away from the station and the people that streamed out of the soiled vehicle. Supporting Isaiah with a hand on his chest, Luka bent him over even more.

“Don’t worry about these assholes, just get it all out”, he calmed Isaiah with a surprisingly gentle voice. Luka’s hand firmly rubbed Isaiah’s back as the redhead emptied himself on the lawn next to the sidewalk. “Yeah, that’s it. You’re gonna feel so much better once you puked it all up.”

“Does he need a doctor?”, the driver’s voice reached Isaiah’s ears through a rustling white noise. He stared at the off-white splatters below him, the bits of ground beef and corn and legumes. Gagging weakly, he added another mouthful of sick to the fetid mess. It wasn’t much that came out of him, he had probably spewed most of his stomach contents inside of the bus.

“Thanks, I’ll take care of him”, Luka declined. He tried so hard to sound calm and collected that his suppressed anger was almost tangible. Isaiah choked up whatever was left inside of him, his tears dripping into the splashes of his upchucked meal. Even when he couldn’t bring up anything more, he didn’t dare to straighten himself again. The thought of facing the people who had witnessed one of the most mortifying moments of his life was too much for him. It was Luka who eventually grabbed him by the shoulders and raised him up. “Feeling any better?”

Isaiah shook his head, avoiding Luka’s gaze. Luka pulled a crumpled package of paper tissues out of his bag and began to wipe Isaiah’s lips and chin. Before he was done, he suddenly paused and put his hand on Isaiah’s forehead.

“Okay, I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to feel that warm.” He brushed back Isaiah’s hair, then moved on with the cleaning process. “I knew there was something wrong with you. Didn’t you notice you were about to explode with puke?”

“I – I thought I was sweaty because I felt nauseous.” Isaiah’s own voice sounded strange to him, shaky and husky. “Thought is was carsickness or something.”

“It might have still been a good idea to tell me, you know? We could have left before you blew chunks all over the place.”

“I know.” Desperately trying not to break into a sob, Isaiah wiped his eyes before the tears could spill over again. “It’s just… I mean… we were so close and… and… I don’t know, you guys already joke about my weak stomach all the time. Now I didn’t just ruin Tiago’s car, but an entire bus.”

“Stop it”, Luka scolded him. He threw the dirty tissue on top of an already dangerously full trash bin next to them, then put both hands on Isaiah’s shoulders. “You’re sick. You’re probably running a fever. I can tell that this feels like the end of the world to you, but it’s not. You’ll never see any of those dickheads again and I promise I won’t tell Tiago and Thien. And now stop crying, you fucking idiot, it makes me want to hug you and I can’t because you’re covered in barf.”

Against his will, Isaiah had to laugh. It quickly turned into another stifled sob as he remembered that they were still stuck far away from their dormitory.

“I feel like crap. How the fuck are we supposed to get back home when I’m like… like this?”

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna call a fellow student. The guy still owes me one.” Luka took out two more handkerchiefs and tried to wipe the worst mess from Isaiah’s hands and clothes. “Probably gonna tell him to bring something clean so you can get changed… and a trash bag to transport this hazardous material you’re wearing.”

“You’re so dumb”, Isaiah mumbled, but he did feel a little better. Still dizzy and shaky and nauseous, but not as desperate.

“That’s rich, coming from you”, Luka grinned and took a moment to ruffle Isaiah’s hair, even though he had fixed it just minutes ago. “Enough with the sad face now. You probably don’t know, but I’m a great nurse. I’ll get you back on your feet in no time.”

“Wait, you… you really wanna take care of me?” Isaiah felt his freckled cheeks turn even warmer. His friends had always looked out for each other when one of them was dead drunk, but he hadn’t expected Luka to stay with him when he was actually sick. “I mean… what if you catch it?”

“Then it’s your time to repay the favor.” Being somewhat done with his cleaning attempts, Luka disposed of the tissues and got out his phone instead to call for their pickup service. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he brings a barf bag, just in case there’s anything left after you threw up the entire Niagara falls. And once we got you tucked up in bed, we can distract you with a bit of online shopping. After this, you definitely need a stress-free holiday time.”

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Archive of our own: Up all night to get Bucky