#etemo

Yaku Morisuke is an idiot. That is one fact Yuu is certain of at the moment as he places a cold compress on the other libero’s forehead. Yaku is half-conscious at best, delirious with pain and exhaustion. Yaku groans when the compress makes contact with his bruised forehead and shut eyes. Yuu sighs and rubs Yaku’s nape soothingly. Yaku hums in appreciation, and Yuu gives him a weary smile.

“I can’t believe you,” Yuu huffs lightly. “Playing volleyball with a migraine and getting smacked in the face by Lev’s spike? Just how reckless are you?”

“S’not my fault,” Yaku slurs tiredly. “Lev’s ‘n idiot, an’ I‘m just unlucky, I guess.”

“Did Lev make you play today?” Yuu grins cheekily.

“No…” Yaku moans, “but it’s the third day of trainin’ camp. What else was I s’posed to do?”

“Go home? Sit out? Tell your coaches you weren’t feeling well? I can keep going if you want,” Yuu smirks.

“You’re so mean, Yuu…” Yaku groans, wincing as the compress slips and allows light to reach his eyes. “You would’ve done the same thing, so it s’not like you can talk.”

“But I can talk, Morisuke, because I’m not the one with a migraine and moderate concussion, am I?” Yuu lectures as he readjusts the compress over Yaku’s eyes and forehead.

“Don’ remind me,” Yaku moans miserably. “I feel awful.”

“I know, Morisuke,” Yuu soothes softly. “The ambulance will be here soon, and then you can get all the pain meds you need at the hospital.”

“Sounds nice,” Yaku says, shivering at a sudden bout of chills.

Yuu unzips his tracksuit jacket and drapes it over the older libero wordlessly. Yaku snuggles into the new source of warmth, silently wishing to be wearing his own tracksuit right now. He is still in his practice clothes and hasn’t gotten the chance to change since getting hit by Lev’s spike.

(The spike hit Yaku hard, and he was pulled off the court by Kai and Kuroo after failing to get up after a few seconds. The other third years interrogated Yaku until they were confident that they knew everything about Yaku’s current health situation as Coach Nekomata called an ambulance. Then came the difficult part. Someone had to stay with Yaku and go with him into the ambulance. Ordinarily, this role would have fallen to a Nekoma coach, but Yaku adamantly refused this option. He wanted the practice match to continue without him, and that couldn’t happen if a coach was missing.

Instead, Yuu volunteered without a second thought. He liked the older libero and enjoyed his company, but his primary interest was leveling the playing field for both teams. If Yuu waited with Morisuke, neither team would have their regular libero playing, so no one would have an advantage. Additionally, it would serve as good practice for both teams’ reserve liberos. And that was how Yaku and Yuu came to be sitting outside the gym doors, sheltering from the sun under the walkway cover. Yaku was resting on a bed of Kai and Kuroo’s tracksuit jackets with Yuu keeping dutiful watch beside him until the ambulance arrived.)

Yaku rolls onto his side, face a pale shade of green. “Yuu…” A breathy moan escapes Yaku’s mouth. “I’m gonna…”

Yuu grabs Yaku’s shoulders roughly, forcing the boy into an upright position before leaning him away from the jacket pile. The compress slips off Yaku’s forehead in the commotion, but Yuu is too focused on Yaku’s present dilemma to care. As soon as Yuu finishes positioning Yaku, the Nekoma libero lets out a fierce wretch, vomit spilling from his lips onto the walkway. Yaku sobs as he vomits harshly onto the ground.

“Shhh,” Yuu whispers, rubbing Yaku’s back. “Just let it out, Morisuke. It’ll be over soon.”

Yaku cries each time he throws up, and by the time his wretches subside, Yaku’s face is blotchy and red with tears. Yuu settles the older boy back onto the jacket pile, lying him down and covering his face with the cold compress again. Yaku’s sniffles die down into uneasy silence. Yuu ruffles Yaku’s hair softly, mindful of the boy’s excruciating headache.

“Thanks, Yuu…” Yaku sighs, drained both mentally and physically.

“Any time, Morisuke,” Yuu smiles brightly. “Get some rest, but try not to sleep. You’re not supposed to do that with a concussion, you know.”

“I know,” Yaku has just enough energy to huff lightly before nestling back into the jackets beneath him. “You’re coming to the hospital with me, right?”

“Yeah, so don’t worry. I’ll be with you the entire time,” Yuu ruffles Yaku’s hair again.

“I’m glad,” Yaku smiles.

Suga:

Suga can handle when his teammates vomit, but he is mortified whenever they see him vomit. Suga sees himself as the team's primary caretaker, so he thinks it's his job to take care of the team, not the other way around. Suga tends to come to practice when he's feeling sick, so he's had the misfortune of throwing up in front of his team a few times already. He gets very embarrassed along with feeling really sick. This combination often results in Suga sobbing on the gym floor in front of everyone, but Karasuno never teases him for it. They take good care of Suga and work together to keep Suga calm while they clean up his mess. They also have the courtesy to never bring up any of these incidents (even Tanaka and Nishinoya know better), which Suga is very grateful for.

Kageyama:

Kageyama is just a shy person. He isn't very good about communicating how he feels (both emotionally and physically) to his team, so he normally vomits everywhere before someone finally figures out what's wrong with him. Kageyama is very personal and doesn't like his team invading his private life, including when he gets sick, so he tries to avoid throwing up in front of his team. It almost never works, but Kageyama keeps trying because he's too shy to show weakness in front of the team (Ukai quietly resigns himself to his fate of cleaning teenagers' puke off the gym floor for the next year).

Semi (& Shirabu):

Asahi doesn't deal with motion sickness well due to his anxiety issues and gets very nauseous on long bus trips. This often results in him crying and vomiting into the bus trashcan several times during the bus trip. Nishinoya and Suga are the best at calming Asahi down, and sometimes if Asahi calms down enough, his nausea will eventually disappear.

Oikawa is very stubborn and will never admit when he's feeling motion sick on the bus. Part of this is because he's the captain, but most of it is just because he's too prideful to admit when he needs help. Oikawa has thrown up on himself and the bus floor multiple times because of this attitude. Oikawa also gets terrible headaches when he's motion sick, so he's just flat-out miserable during and after bus rides. Only the third years know this, though, because Oikawa refuses to show any weakness in front of his underclassmen. Iwaizumi and Hanamaki are usually the ones who have to deal with Oikawa on bus trips, so they now keep motion sickness medicine and pressure bands in their sports bags for Oikawa to use before things get too bad.

Futakuchi is very similar to Oikawa. He refuses to let anyone know that he's feeling bad, but Aone and Obara always pick up on it and try to help him. Aone is the one elected to actually interact with Futakuchi when he's motion sick because Futakuchi tolerates him the most. They try to sneak medicine into Futakuchi's water bottle before bus rides, but the best remedy for Futakuchi is actually the wrist bands. Once Aone figures this out, he buys five different ones for Futakuchi to try. At first, Futakuchi does this to humor Aone, but when he goes an entire bus ride with significantly less motion sickness with a band on, he starts taking Aone's experiment more seriously.

Fukunaga is so quiet that no one even knows that he gets motion sickness until his second year in the club, Yaku, Kuroo, and Kai feel terrible for not noticing, so they make sure to always have medicine on hand for Fukunaga. Fukunaga is usually okay if he can get medicine a little before the bus ride, but it can get bad if he doesn't get his medication on time. He accidentally threw up on Lev once because he forgot his medicine. Fukunaga is still mortified and refuses to talk about the incident even though Lev, Yaku, and the rest of the team tell him that it's not a big deal.

Kenma was sick, both physically and from boredom. Kenma had been feeling sick all day, but he still came to afternoon practice because Kuroo would have thrown a fit if he didn’t. Kenma had just finished warm-ups with the team before Coach Nekomata arrived. The elderly coach took one look at Kenma’s flushed cheeks and ashen complexion and promptly declared that Kenma would be taken to the infirmary as soon as possible.

Kenma gathered his things gradually, aggressive nausea slowing his actions considerably. Once everything was packed away, Kenma dragged himself to his feet. Nausea flared, and Kenma fell onto his knees with a wretch. Another heave followed, and then Kenma was spilling his guts on the gym floor. Cries of shock filled the air, but Kenma was far too miserable to pay them any mind.

Kenma heaved, and heaved, and heaved again. By the time Kenma’s nausea abated enough for him to catch his breath, a large, putrid puddle had formed underneath him. Kenma leaned back on his heels with a pained groan. He felt absolutely terrible. Kenma’s immune system wasn’t the best, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so sick. Someone’s hand came to rest on Kenma’s shoulder, so Kenma looked back blearily.

Yaku was kneeling on the floor next to Kenma. “Do you think you’re done for now?” Yaku asked gently, his hand rubbing small, soothing circles on Kenma’s shoulder.

Kenma nodded with a faint hiccup. His stomach was behaving at the moment, but he knew it wouldn’t last too long.

“That’s good,” Yaku’s smile was wide but concerned. “Let’s go to the infirmary. You can rest there until your parents come to get you.”

Kenma nodded in agreement, and Yaku reached up to pat Kenma’s head softly. “Hey Kuroo,” Yaku called across the gym, “come help me out. Kenma’s going to the infirmary.”

“Sure, Yakkun,” Kuroo replied as he jogged over to the pair.

Kuroo and Yaku cautiously pulled Kenma to his feet, and they began their journey. Kuroo supported the bulk of Kenma’s weight while Yaku kept Kenma steady and upright. Together, the third years successfully got Kenma to the infirmary and settled in a bed, intentionally propping him up in case of more vomiting. The nurse had already left, so Yaku busied himself adjusting Kenma’s covers while Kuroo ducked into the hall to call Kenma’s parents.

“Sorry you’re feeling so awful, Kenma,” Yaku said as he finished tucking Kenma under the blankets.

“It’s not your fault,” Kenma sighed as his stomach gurgled ominously. “I was feeling sick this morning. I shouldn’t have come to school.”

“Well, we can’t change that now,” Yaku shrugged, ruffling Kenma’s dyed locks gently.

“I guess not,” Kenma agreed. “I wish I could time skip to tomorrow already.”

“Time skip?” Yaku laughed at Kenma’s word choice. “Like the video game mechanic?”

“Yeah,” Kenma said, “it’d be super useful in real life, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” Yaku conceded, “but it’d cause a lot of problems if everyone could time skip, right?”

“I guess so,” Kenma conceded, “but it’d still be cool.”

Yaku stifled a laugh and patted Kenma’s head. Kenma leaned into the contact briefly before settling back onto the pillow behind him. Kenma laughed a little too, but the laughing soon turned to hiccups, which quickly dissolved into gags. Yaku jumped to attention, shooting across the room to grab a small trash can from beside the nurse’s desk. He rushed back to Kenma, depositing the trash can in Kenma’s lap just in time to catch the first splash of vomit.

Kenma curled around the trash can, hugging it like a lifeline as he threw up a nasty slurry of half-digested food and bile. Tears gathered in Kenma’s eyes from the exhaustion and discomfort of yet another vomiting fit. Yaku stood beside Kenma, wrapping his arms loosely around the sick boy. When the vomiting finally slowed down, Yaku nudged Kenma gently to one side of the bed, hoisting himself up and onto the now-empty side.

Kenma’s vomiting continued for another minute before eventually coming to a stop. Yaku rubbed Kenma’s back sympathetically and tucked Kenma’s head into his chest. Kenma smiled slightly and snuggled deeper into Yaku’s embrace. It was an unusual display of affection from the normally apathetic boy, but Yaku supposed that anyone would want a hug after throwing up so much.

By the time Kuroo returned to check on the other two, Kenma was fast asleep in Yaku’s arms, and the libero was dozing lightly too. Kuroo chuckled and walked over to the bed. He took the filled trash can from Kenma’s arms, wincing slightly at the horrible appearance and smell of the can’s content. Kuroo dropped the trash can into the sink to be dealt with later. Then he returned to the bed and carefully shook Yaku’s arm.

“Wake up, Yakkun,” Kuroo whispered, mindful that Kenma was a surprisingly light sleeper.

“Mmm,” Yaku yawned softly while he opened his eyes slowly. “Kuroo? What is it?”

“Kenma’s parents are almost here. Can you help me get him to the front doors?” Kuroo asked softly.

“Yeah,” Yaku whispered. “Can you carry him? I don’t want to wake him up.”

“Sure,” Kuroo agreed, “help me get him on my back.”

Yaku delicately shifted Kenma until he was sitting up while Kuroo turned around and squatted low so his shoulders were the correct height for Yaku to help. Yaku slid Kenma’s arms over Kuroo’s shoulders and pushed Kenma’s body against Kuroo’s. Kuroo grabbed the undersides of Kenma’s knees and cautiously stood. When Kenma failed to wake up or fall off, he nodded to Yaku, and the third years left the infirmary with Kenma in tow.

When they exited the front doors, they found Kenma’s parents sitting in their car. Yaku ran ahead to open a backseat car door. Then he helped Kuroo gently slide Kenma off his back and into the car. Yaku buckled Kenma’s seatbelt and placed an empty trash bag that he’d snagged from the infirmary onto Kenma’s lap. Kuroo closed the car door and pulled Yaku back from the car.

“Thanks for your help, boys,” Kenma’s father whispered through the open window of the passenger’s side.

“It was nothing, sir,” Yaku replied respectfully. “We’re just doing our jobs as upperclassmen.”

“Indeed you are,” Kenma’s father smiled. “We’ll take him home now. Be safe going home, boys.”

“We will, sir,” Kuroo nodded as the car drove away from the school.

Kuroo and Yaku stand in silence for a moment, watching Kenma’s family drive away.

“What now, Yakkun? Back to practice?” Kuroo tilted his head down to look at the short libero.

“Obviously,” Yaku said, “We’ll never make it to National if we don’t practice.”

Kuroo smirked and ruffled Yaku’s hair. “Race you back, Yakkun?”

Yaku smacked away Kuroo’s hand, but his cheeks still flushed a little. “Sure, but the winner chooses today’s team snack.”

And then Yaku took off without warning, darting down the halls and racing to the gym. Kuroo stared for a moment, eyes and mouth wide with shock before he recovered and ran after Yaku. “Yakkun, you cheater! Get back here!”