Mmmghdgdhbdhdhdg there’s nothing cuter than when an upset tummy makes a guy all whiny and vocal about how uncomfortable it feels… repeating how “he ate waaay too much” and how his belly “is SO full,” clutching his distended gut; burping and groaning. And of course those those classic lines that get you every time, hearing them out loud; “ohhh my tummy…” “it hurts…”
Bonus points for any self-soothing belly rub action, watching them slip a hand under their shirt (hehe, if you’re lucky this is when you might be able to spot a little bit of belly bloat sticking out) and wince as they weakly try to massage out the waves of sickness rolling through their guts.
Makes me weaaaak seeing him rendered helpless over all that trouble his poor tummy is stirring up inside 💘💘
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Sound.wave looooves his burritos…. But they don’t always agree with his tanks. You know what they say about beans being the magical fruit…
Enjoy our beloved tale deck as he makes his dash for the toilet to relieve himself. Gift art for @cherenkovafterdark
Work has been a lot these last few weeks, so grocery shopping has felt extra hard. Tonight I decided to just fuck it and skip the store and get a little ceasars pizza and 2 liter. It was raining. I had to deal with unexpected things, so I didn’t get to leave early to write my article (also for work). I didn’t have the patience for the store on a grey Friday night.
So now I’m lying in bed with a belly full of shitty extra cheesy pizza and cherry Pepsi trying to be normal about how the middle of my tummy feels a ring of grease and dough and cheese is blocking everything up.
I just kept writing and eating and writing and eating…the pizza wasn’t even good after a couple hours but i guess it was yummy enough for me. My stomach is starting to ache and these sick gurgles are coming from the top of my gut. Part of me is hoping for a serious bought of indigestion. Just a night of grease belly misery that leaves me bloated and sipping coffee at 4am desperate for relief…
I'm really scrolling back for these- my apologies for neglecting them for so long! But here we go!
CW: gas/farts
Full of Hot Air
Drift ventures out to Swerves for Taco Tuesdays. He enjoys some time with First Aid and Ambulon before disaster hits. Just what is causing Drift to be squirming in his seat? And can his night get any worse?
Read under the cut to find out!
The day was brightened by the fact that it was Taco Tuesday at Swerves. And Drift couldn’t leave the spicy foods alone! He loved things hot- ever since that one day he managed to get a spicy meal from a kind stranger back in the Dead End, foods that packed heat just did something to him. Maybe it was how they warmed his frame on those long, cold nights? Or perhaps the memory of rare compassion shown that day influenced his taste receptors.
Drift didn’t care: if zesty food was being served, he was there.
The red and white entered, being third in command, he should attempt to mingle, even if his status of ‘Ex ‘Con’ rubbed some mechs the wrong way. Staying holed up in his habsuit wouldn’t prove to the crew that he had, indeed, changed. The bar was full, not quite packed, but a lot of mechs were enjoying the festivities.
Or the booze brought them in. Who knows.
The room was scanned, and once a table of non-intoxicated mechs was spotted, Drift steeled his nerves and walked over. First Aid and Ambulon. Safe mechs. Interesting mechs. Probably the only good thing that came out of that whole Delphi dilemma was having these two join their crew.
First Aid, while a little bubbly in nature, was kind. Ambulon was the more reserved of the two, but being an Ex Decepticon himself, he knew better to judge. Or to make a scene. In fact, the tattered medic was the first to offer Drift a seat at their table by kicking out a chair. The act is an unspoken understanding between the pair. Drift curtly nodded and sat down.
“Hey Drift!” First Aid chirped. “Come for some grub?”
“Taco Tuesday...” Ambulon muttered.
“How is it?” Drift asked.
“Surprisingly tasty.” Aid answered, then offered a glass of yellow liquid. “Would you care for a drink?”
“...” It was polite etiquette to accept what was offered, however being ascetic from engex may give the wrong impression.
“It’s crystal lemonade.” Ambulon hinted a smile. “We are on shift later tonight. No engex.”
The clenched fist over his spark eased. He nodded his helm, and the ice cubes clinked against the glass as the liquid flowed. The sound was refreshing. Seeing the mechs at the table smile at him was comforting. Maybe getting to know mechs better wasn’t a bad idea.
“Be careful of the burritos,” the taller medic warned. “Unless you like your aft to be kicked by fire.”
“Spicey?”
“To say the least.”
“Psshhhh....” Aid waved his hand dismissively. “That didn’t stop you from eating a few.”
“I am not going to waste my credits on food and not eat it.”
“Your credits?” The younger medic balked. “You have none. I paid!”
Ambulon grinned, stifling a laugh. “My treat, Drift. Order up.”
A little datapad was pushed his way that displayed a selection of Mexican-themed foods. There were the classics: tacos loaded with cheese, shredded lettuce, onions, and crystal tomatoes. The enerbean burritos stuffed with refried beans that were seasoned with garlic and chili powder looked appetizing. But what snagged the speedster’s attention was the Camarones a la Diabla. AKA Devils shrimp.
And next to this selection were several flames.
This dish not only looked hot, being a fiery red color, but with the ingredients listed containing the hottest chiles known to mechs, it was bound to set his mouth on fire! Big, thick pieces of shrimp, roasted tomatoes, and onions floated in a thick sauce that contained ancho, Chile de árbol, and guajillo, no doubt. The dish looked like a perfect work of art! He licked his lips as his stomach grumbled in anticipation.
“Did ya find something you liked?” Aid chirped. “Order whatever you want. Amby’s treating.”
The TIC tilted his helm. “I thought you said Ambulon didn’t have any creds...”
“I got ya covered, don’t worry about it.” Aid slid out his card and smirked. “He’ll pay me back later by having to organize the dreaded junk drawer in the med bay. That one Ratchet has been grumbling about the last few days.”
Ambulon’s optics widened as his jaw dropped. “Hey!”
“As long as it’s alright.”
“I insist, Drift.” Aid’s face was serious.
“I know what I want.” His fingers danced over the screen as he made his selection. “Devil’s Shrimp.”
“Awaaaaaaa?” Both Aid and Ambulon spouted at the same time.
“Dude, are you sure?”
“That’s the hottest dish on the menu!”
Drift grinned, making a show of sipping his cold lemonade- the sweetness mixed perfectly with the tartness. “I can take the heat, unlike some.”
~~~~~~
The warning that came with the meal- and the two acquaintances- was not lying. The heat of the dish was felt even before the spoonful entered his mouth. And when his lips wrapped around the utensil and the shrimp and sauce slid onto his tongue, it was as if he ate lava straight from the erupting volcano! First Aid and Ambulon watched with optics full of wonder... but Drift simply smiled!
The shrimp was tender, squishing out fiery juice when bitten. The TIC hummed his enjoyment. The a hint of Guajillo chiles tasted amazing between the intense fiery flavor of Chile de árbo! Guajillo provided that pleasant earthy taste that contrasted the bold heat of the árbo. The cooling side, often provided along such a hot dish, was a bed of Mexican rice.
And that first swallow resulted in that burning heat to slather down his pipes and warm his tanks nicely- just like that first time back on the streets. The lingering sting made him feel all warm and cozy, begging for yet another helping of liquid fire. And who was Drift to deny? Another mix of rice and shrimp loaded the spoon and went on the digestive tract ride.
“You weren’t kidding about takin’ the heat!” Aid spouted as if watching an amusing magic trick.
“Just because he doesn’t drench everything in ketchup like you, Aid.” Ambulon raised his brow as he poured himself another glass of lemonade.
“Well, sometimes the food here needs a little help.”
Ambulon paused mid-pour, glaring at the younger medic.
“Okay, okay. A lot of help.” Aid sat back and sighed. “What time did Ratchet say he was finishing up?”
“He didn’t,” Ambulon answered. “At least not clearly...”
The pair of medics rambled on, but the mere mention of Ratchet made Drift’s body heat up- differently than the spicy food he was consuming. Thinking of that older medic flashed comforting memories through his processor. Their first meetup... while drugged out of his mind, Drift remembered the kindness poured into his treatment. Needles pierced into his tubing, delivering meds to counteract the overdose. Iv’s delivering much-needed hydration to his frame. Advice given to make a much-needed change in his life.
Too bad he didn’t listen.
But the image of that grouchy angel never left his mind. Every sharp edge of that doctor was etched into his memory. The fact that he was a streetwalker suffering from addiction did not alter Ratchet’s respect for him as a living being, and not many mechs in Cybertron’s society could do that. He was a diamond in the rough. How many vorns had he spent lying awake at night just dreaming of that red and white mech suggested had his life taken a different path.... the path that the medic had recommended?
“Drift?” First Aid’s voice cut his memories short.
“Hmmm?” The speedster paused midbite.
“So, why did you join up on this voyage?” Aid chirped.
That was a loaded question that needed a few seconds of thought before answering. The desire to help and the longing for a second chance were reasons. Drift picked the safest answer. “Quite simply, Rodimus asked me to.” He shrugged. “He wanted to get off Cybertron. Said it was stifling him.”
“Stifling him?” Aid asked. “I mean, I know it’s going through a lot of changes recently...”
“And I think Rodimus may have some slight issues with change.” The TIC shook his helm. “But he wanted to lead a new adventure so to speak. And in the shortest terms, he needed someone to keep him in check.” More spicy food entered his mouth, searing hot warmth down his pipes and into his gurgling belly. This dish apparently bit back.
While mostly true, the second reason as to why he joined would remain a secret. There was no way he would admit to the other pair he joined because of Ratchet. Yes, as sappy as that may have sounded, when looking over the proposed roster and seeing that doctor's name in the sea of others made his spark skip a rotation. After all those years of homelessness, war, then self-healing...maybe this voyage was the opportunity to get to know the mech he desperately crushed on.
“We were rescued. Obviously.” Ambulon sipped his drink. “Thankfully.”
“I can’t imagine Delphi being great...”
“In the beginning it was.” Aid shrugged. “I mean... Pharma was a great doctor. Figured it would be a great learning experience. And it was... until...”
“Until it wasn’t.” Ambulon’s face soured as if he bit into a lemon. “I was stationed there simply because no one else would accept someone like me...”
Drift nodded, knowing that feeling all too well. “Past actions have consequences. I understand that. But one shouldn’t be judged solely on some bad choices.”
While only slight, that smile from Ambulon spoke volumes. These two understood each other. As if sharing the same thoughts, both ex ‘Cons lifted their glasses, then clinked them together in a toast.
First Aid, late to the party, lifted his glass. His face dropped when his glass remained untouched.
“It’s an ex ‘Con thing, Aid.” Ambulon sputtered.
“How do you know I wasn’t secretly a Decepticon, hmmm?”
While the young medic was serious, both mechs optics met, then barked out fits of laughter.
“Really, Aid?” Ambulon nearly spit out his lemonade. “You couldn’t be a Decepticon if your life depended on it!”
“Wha—"
“It’s a good thing, Aid. Really.” Drift spoke softly as his stomach clenched from the laughter. Or the food.
“First Aid, you are way too kind. Caring. Compassionate.” Ambulon added. “The Decepticon army would have eaten you alive.”
“Then spat you back out.”
“And stepped on you.”
“Then get mad that you made a stain on their pedes.”
The glance the medic and the TIC shared was all-knowing, silently conveying the truth without a word. Ambulon may be new to join their ragtag team, but Drift felt a comforting aura as if he knew the mech longer. Definitely a good mech to buddy up with.
“Here,” Drift lifted his glass. “We can do another toast. To present friends...”
“To present friends!” Aid chirped, raising his glass. Ambulon smiled and followed suit. All three classes clinked together before hearty swigs were gulped.
By the time Drift’s plate was cleared, his belly was singing the blues. The meal tasted amazing. Filled his processor with sweet, comforting memories and filled his frame with fiery warmth. And gas, as his abdomen bloated painfully behind its plating. This symptom wasn’t always guaranteed to happen... but the chilies used formed the perfect storm.
“So, what time do you guys go in for your shift?” Drift asked, dabbing his lips with a napkin as he shifted in his chair. His belly gurgled, not loudly, but enough that he could feel the tickle of the gas bubbles that formed.
“Ratchet said he’ll come get us.” Ambulon shrugged. “Who knows when that will be?”
“Should be anytime now.” Aid frowned. “What could be taking him so long? He texted saying it was slow.”
The bubbles in his belly shifted, and for a second, the TIC feared them rising upward in an undignified belch. He swallowed hard a few times, and the pressure lowered, tickling further down. He sighed in relief. While burping could be seen as a compliment to the chef, he wanted to avoid the risk of embarrassing himself in front of possible new friends.
“You know how he gets.” Drift smiled. The senior medic took pride in his work. So much so that he neglected to take care of himself at times. Oh, there is nothing he would love to do more than force that grumpy medic onto his berth and give him a full-body massage to work out all those kinks.
Nothing sexual, mind you. At least not yet.
His belly groaned again; this time, the pressure grew intense and worked its way down his digestive tract. The sensation no longer tickled, but rather felt like hot needles poking against his internals. The trapped air may not be coming out in the form of belches... but their release would be made elsewhere.
Drift pressed his lips together and planted his aft on the chair. Golly, what a predicament! The mere chance of meeting Ratchet tonight made leaving undesirable. But this buildup of gas... No sooner did he think of excusing himself (maybe he could go to the bar and get another type of non-alcoholic drink) did that pressure greet his port. And no matter how much he clenched, that pressure strained against his shutter. His frame scorched as he held his breath, fearing accidental seepage.
“Drift, you feeling alright?” Ambulon casually asked.
“Yes... Yes.” He chuckled, optics darting between the two of them. “Okay.... the dish may have been a little spicy.”
“You look a little... flustered,” Aid cooed, trying not to look smug as he made a playful jab that the TIC only half heard.
This fart was coming! With his cheeks pressed against the chair, it was bound to make noise and cause a scene! With cautious optics, Drift examined his dinner party, who resumed playful bantering back and forth. The speedster exhaled. He carefully spread his aft cheeks apart, slightly lifting one side. He relaxed his sphincter in a controlled manner. And with all the focus he could muster, he carefully let that gas slip out.
Fffffsshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh......
He cleared his throat. Faked a few coughs as short bursts of hot air escaped from his aft. His cheeks felt warmed from the humid gas. His intestinal tubing deflated. His belly didn’t feel as bloated. The relief felt was instant! With each puff of wind released, he felt better. The fear of embarrassment diminished.
Until the smell hit.
The noxious odor rose from his buttocks, smelling of putrid, rotting eggs. But with each passing second, and gusts of wind from passing mechs, the smell intensified, nearly making his optics water. Now, a scent best described as moldy fish overcooked in a microwave burned his olfactory senses. He couldn’t help but stifle a cough, but nothing eased that stench!
“What’s that fraggin’ smell?” Aid all but shouted as he scrunched up his face. “Do you guys smell it?”
Ambulon took a sniff, then shook his helm no. “Perhaps it’s your upper lip?”
“Hah hah, Amby.” Aid took a big sniff, then immediately gagged. “Is it just me?”
Great. Now Ambulon was sniffing the air. Could these two get any more obnoxious?
“OOouugghhhh....” Ambulon groaned, pulling back and covering his nose as if something just bit it. “It smells like something died in here!”
“Maybe the plumbing backed up again!” This time, Aid frantically waved his servo in front of his face. One thing First Aid didn’t do was discreet. “Primus- it’s gonna make me hurl!”
“Don’t...” Drift started, hating how easily his Divine entity’s name was taken in vain.
“Ah, my bad.” Aid covered his nose and wretched. “Don’t you smell it?”
Slag, yeah, he smelt it! But he didn’t want to make a fuss. He didn’t want them to know he was the culprit! “Could be the pipes... I guess I can call someone to check on them.”
Now, all the TIC could think about was a swarm of mechs flooding this place, trying to locate the source of the smell. As silly as it may sound, he imagined mechs sniffing like bloodhounds... following the smell until it led straight to his aft.
“But who knows, it was just a one-time thing.” Drift shrugged, thinking of a way to make his great escape. “Let me check something-“
“Ahh, Ratchet!” Aid jumped up. “Just in time!”
Drift froze mid-stand. His crush had picked the worst time to make his appearance! Could his night get any worse?
The older Doctor eyed the younger one. “Are you being smart?”
“No, no...” Aid said. “Glad you made it out of the medbay!”
Another stern look.
“Anything to report?” Ambulon said, tossing his napkin on the table as he stood up.
“No patients. Hoping it stays that way.” Ratchet sighed. “The other doctor is on shift for another hour or so. I left a list of chores that can be tended to in the downtime.”
“Gotchya.” Aid said. “We’ll get right on it.”
Ambulon gave a nod. “It was nice talking with you, Drift.”
“We’ll have to meet up again!” Aid chirped as he waved, which quickly turned into fanning in front of his nose. He then pulled Ambulon along.
“Mind if I joined ya?” Ratchet asked but sat down anyway. “Looks like Taco night is a blast.”
“Y...yeah.... you could say that...” And just like that, his hopes of making a great escape fizzled. Ratchet snagged a menu and glanced over it. Any joyous plans of a chance encounter soured- just like his belly. The pressure grew again, and Drift knew what was in store. So much for a sparkfelt chat filled with admiration, appreciation, and making sure the doctor was okay after the Delphi fiasco!
“Have any recommendations?” The medic’s blue optics rose from the menu, and his lips hinted at a tired smile.
“Ahhh....Ambulon said the burritos were tasty.”
“What did you try?” Ratchet tapped the datapad, then looked up. “Hey, it ain’t gonna bother you if I grab a drink?”
“No, no, be my guest.” Drift smiled. “I had the Devil’s shrimp.”
Ratchet made a face and exhaled. “You’re gonna burn your afthole with that!”
“It wasn’t that bad.” What a flat-out lie! Well, the dish was scrumptious! But the heat was already making its way through his digestive tract. The uncomfortable bloating returned. The needle-like sensation pricked down his sides- worse than the first time. Any gurgling heard erupted from deep within his bowels.
Of all the times to suffer a bad bout of gas! There was so much he wanted to say, but the pressure built up. Steady. Forcefully. Painfully! His whole lower abdomen ached as his cabling inflated like balloon animals- complete with being twisted and turned into shapes. And it was only a matter of time before he popped.
“Just what was going on before I arrived? Aid seemed all excited over something.” Ratchet questioned, stifling a laugh. Then gently sniffed the air, his once casual face forming a slight grimace.
Drift’s cheeks felt flushed. His stomach tightened. His port fluttered. “I...ah... I dunno....”
The CMO cocked his helm. “You don’t know?”
Sweat beaded on the TIC’s brow as he licked his lips and squirmed. The queasiness rose with each clench of his aft. The pressure reached his port, pressing against the plating without a care in the world. Slag, he needed to get out of here, and fast!
“Is everything alright, Drift?” Ratchet set down his datapad and gave a good diagnosing look. “You’re looking a bit under the weather... You know, I hope there isn’t something wrong with the food... I am smelling the hint of something rotting.”
“I’m fine..AH...” His servos grasped his abdomen as his optics clenched shut. This was happening!
“You sure?”
Another loud gurgle erupted, this time loud enough for his dinner guest to hear. It started out high-pitched, then rumbled deep like thunder. His cheeks grew warm as tears welled in his optics before rolling down his cheeks. Drift opened his mouth to speak, but instead, that pressure inside him broke free. He could no longer hold back as hot air forcefully- and loudly- expelled from his aft.
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"Do you hate me or are you gonna keep the beard?" Bella asked, wrapping her arms around Luke's naked back as he stood in front of the mirror after his nightly shower. For once he wasn't shaving clean the five o'clock shadow that hard formed during the day, maybe because of the bruise on his cheek, maybe because he looked particularly sleepy, or even because Bell had been begging him to keep the beard for years now.
"I don't hate you, I just don't like looking like a hobo," Luke yawned, leaning back so she could slot her chin on his shoulder, on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek, "I'm gonna shave in the morning."
"Ah, don't tease me with a good time," Bell nibbled his ear, then pressed another kiss on his cheek, now on the corner of his mouth and letting go off him so she could walk back to the bedroom. She fell flat on the bed, kicking the blankets in order to get under them and smiled as she watched Luke moving around.
He was definitely sleepy, not only because he was a little cranky — none of the jokes or rambles before bed — but because she watched him nearly walk into their dresser twice, yawning the entire time.
"C'mere," Bella grabbed the back of Luke's shirt as he sat down on the bed, staring at his feet like a ventriloquist doll whose cords had been cut, "you big baby, lie down."
"Uhm..." Lucas collapsed back at her yank, causing Bella to fall on her back and giggle, squirming under him so his head was on the pillow and she could tug the blankets over both of them, "you're comfy."
"And you're obnoxiously heavy, Atwood," Bella chuckled, rolling on the bed to turn off their night lamp and then cuddling up against him, "what's gotten into you? Long day?"
"Uh-hum," Luke turned around, burying his face on her neck and throwing a heavy arm around Bella's waist, "my alarm..."
"Uh..." She reached over him, to grab his cellphone on the nightstand and squinted at the sudden brightness, "it's set for 6 AM."
"Gotta shave... Change it-" Lucas yawned once more, "to 5:40, please."
"Ugh," Bella wrinkled her nose, changing the time and then promptly letting go of the device as she curled up around him, sinking into Lucas' warmth.
It was still pretty early for her, only 10:30, but he was so cuddled up to her and the room was all dark, that Bella fell asleep too. She woke up around 1 AM, all alone in the bedroom.
"Uh... Luke?" Bella rubbed her eyes, moving up and grabbing her night robe as she sleepily stumbled into their bathroom. It was all dark and empty too. What the hell.
"Lucas?" Now way more awake, Bella entered their dark hallway. The guest bedroom was empty, as well as the office and the second bathroom. There was a noise downstairs and she frowned, walking down the stairs.
The house was still new enough that she needed the walls as guides, grabbing on the railing for dear life.
The kitchen light was on, so she walked there- And found it empty too, "okay, creepy," Bella scoffed, glancing at the backyard, that was fully dark, only the trees bending as the wind howled away, "Lucas, this isn't fucking funny-"
A hand on her elbow caused Bella to let out a shriek and whirl around, shoving Luke back with all her force. Her husband let out a pained groan, his back hitting the fridge and Bella clutched her chest, heart hammering away in her ears.
"What the fUCK, LUCAS?!" She squealed, planting her hands on her knees, "why did you sneak up on me?!"
"I didn't!" Luke groaned, rubbing his chest and Bella let out a heavy sigh, calming down.
"What were you doing downstairs...?" She eyed him up and down, he was pale and looked like he was in pain, "did I hit you too hard? I'm sorry."
"No, you didn't," Luke winced, squeezing his eyes shut, "my belly is cramping up like crazy, being in bed was making me claustrophobic."
"Oh," Bella's shoulders dropped as she situated herself. He did look ill, "did you take any meds? When did it start?"
"About an hour ago," Luke grimaced, walking back to the dark living room and she followed him, realizing he had been nursing a glass of ginger ale and playing video game on the switch, lying on the couch. She had probably walked right past him, "I've been trying to burp, but its not helping with the pain."
He sat back down and Bella frowned, hitting the living room lights and then circling the couch, cupping his cheeks. He was cold and clammy to the touch.
"Do you think its something you ate?" She combed her fingers through his hair and Luke melted under the touch, burying his face on her thigh as she perched on the couch's arm, "I can get you some pepto, we restocked last week..."
"I tried already," Luke's voice came out muffled by her robe, "first thing... All it did was make my burps taste weird," he pressed a burp against her thigh, grimacing at the gurgly nature of it due to the ginger ale, "I just feel like crap."
"I'm sorry," Bella sighed, continuing to pet his hair, "at least if this is the flu, you'll be in the clear on the wedding, eh?"
Luke let out a snort, "then you shouldn't be snuggling up with me, Bell."
"Too late for that," Bella rolled her eyes, stroking his prickly cheek and his neck, trying to rub away the tension knots, "besides, I'd need to not kiss you for the next five days or so? Not happening."
"You're ridic-" Luke interrupted himself with a nasty burp, pulling away so he could sit up straight and belch on his fist. He shuddered as the last one was particularly wet, swallowing down the ginger ale that rushed up, "gross..."
"Do you want a bowl?" Bella eyed him skeptically. Luke was always so competitive with himself, fighting the nausea to the last minute.
"I'm not nauseous, just a little queasy... And in pain too..."
"Goddammit, Lucas," Bella grumbled, not mad at him, but frustrated she didn't know how to fix this, "what if I get my heating pad? Would it help?"
He raised his head from his hand, since he had crumpled up, entertaining the idea for a moment, "maybe...?"
That was good enough. Bella rushed out of the room and up the stairs once more, in order to retrieve the heating pad under their sink in the main bathroom. By the time she returned to the living room, though, Luke was gone.
"Are we playing hide...and seek?" Her words died in her mouth as she entered the kitchen and found him hunched over the sink, heaving, "aw, baby... So much for not feeling nauseous."
She abandoned the heating pad on the counter, planting a hand on Luke's back and rubbing up and down as he spat in the empty bowl, letting out a guttural belch, followed by a pained moan, "Bella..."
"Shh, get it up, babe," Bella sighed, pressing her mouth to his shoulder and snaking an arm around his stomach. Lucas' belly wasn't bloated, but it was gurgling non stop, making him wince as she pressed around, "you'll feel better soon..."
Another five minutes of dry heaving and she was convinced he had nothing to bring up to begin with, "Luke, I think you're just empty..."
Lucas shook his head, spine curling as he gagged once more, "no- Gingeerkgh-Ginger ale..." oh yeah, he had had several glasses of that... The ginger muffled a yawn on her hand, patting his back softly, hoping it'd help him bring it up. It must've been 2 AM by now.
"Fuck," Luke winced, folding even more, white knuckling the counter's edge as a cramp went through his stomach, "this fucking hurts..."
Bella bit down her lip, starting to get worried, "maybe you gotta use the bathroom...?"
A loud dry-heave answered her, followed by a sudden rush of liquid falling inside the sink with a harsh splatter. Luke hung over it, eyes squeezed shut and struggling to breathe, leaning in enough he could press his forehead to the cool glass of the window above the sink.
"There you go," Bella opened the faucet, spraying the nasty product of several glasses of ginger ale and his dinner away, "done?"
"Nope," Lucas spat once more, sniffling and sounding all congested, "helped with the pain though..."
"That's great," she let out a genuine relieved sigh and moved away from him, in order to fill up a tall glass of water, "big gulps then, let's bring up the rest of what's upsetting your belly so much."
"Let's," he snorted at the "we" implication, but took the glass from her with shaky hands, all but chugging it down. Immediately Luke was turning back to the sink, dropping the glass inside with a loud clank and gagging several times. Bella cringed at the violence of it, tiptoeing so she could plant a hand to his forehead and then giving his back some hard pats, until finally a much thicker gush came up.
It was large enough that Luke started to cough and rasp for oxygen as it ended, swaying so much that Bella slid under his arm, wrapping her arms around his waist to keep him from collapsing against the cabinets, "hey, hey, hey, don't go down on me, baby. Open those beautiful eyes for me."
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lip and Bella beamed, cupping his face. He was drenched in cold sweat, wavy hair glued to his forehead and a feverish haze to his eyes, although he was still cold and clammy to the touch, "you with me?"
"Gotta- Gotta sit down..." Luke mumbled, squeezing her shoulder and Bella tried not to wince at the force of his grip.
"Okay, let's- Yeah, alright, on the ground," she scoffed as his knees buckled and all she could do was control the fall, but not stop it. Luke leaned back against the yellow cabinet, chest heaving with exhausted breaths.
"Sorry..."
"For what exactly?" Bella frowned, moving on all fours so she could open one of the drawers and getting a dishcloth, then getting back up to wash away the mess and wet the cloth, crouching back down and pressing it against his forehead, wiping the drool on his chin.
"Gross... Messy...It'ssslate."
She let out a huff, cupping his chin with a hand and forcing their eyes to meet, "don't be silly, it's not even that late."
