Family AU--Appendicitis
Warnings for vomit, mild self-destructive behavior, and surgery. I tend to put everyone through the wringer eventually.
Glanni awoke abruptly at a little after four in the morning to three things: footsteps running to the en-suite bathroom, no Ithro in the bed beside him, and the sound of violent retching.
He was on his feet and tapping lightly on the bathroom door in seconds, before he was even anywhere close to fully awake. Not even waiting for a real response, he walked in.
His boyfriend was sitting next to the toilet, his arms wrapped around his stomach, and tears in his eyes from retching so violently, though he had not thrown up.
Glanni knelt down beside Ithro, laying a hand on his boyfriend’s hot forehead, then thumbed away the tears. “My poor dear,” Glanni said softly, shifting so that he could hold Ithro, something that he didn’t do nearly often enough; usually Ithro was the one supporting Glanni due to their size difference and the fact that Glanni had a tendency to fall ill, get injured, or break down emotionally more often. Ithro laid his head on Glanni’s chest, sniffling softly while Glanni stroked his hair.
They sat like that for several minutes, until Ithro pulled away, hiccuping miserably and panting as he got his head over the toilet. He could feel Glanni’s hand on his back, rubbing circles, and silently offering support. He couldn’t recall a time that he had felt so terrible.
He hiccuped miserably, the hiccups turning into occasional wet burps that tasted awful and made his stomach churn even worse. He finally fell back and buried his head in Glanni’s shoulder, trying not to sob.
Suddenly, he twisted in Glanni’s arms, just barely getting his head over the toilet before he threw up. He vaguely heard Glanni make a squeak of surprise, then he started rubbing Ithro’s back, saying comforting things.
When he finally stopped, he fell into Glanni’s arms, letting out a sob. He didn’t even react as Glanni wiped off his mouth for him and flushed the toilet. He closed his eyes, laying his head down on Glanni’s shoulder. Glanni could feel it growing damp, but that did not matter to him. What mattered was that his boyfriend was in pain, and there didn’t seem to be anything that he could do about it. “Do you want to try to lie down for a little while?”
Ithro nodded. “You might want to get a bin, just in case.” He looked horribly pale, dark circles under his eyes, tears standing out on his eyelashes.
Glanni nodded, laying a cool hand on Ithro’s hot forehead, making a humming noise as Ithro leaned into it. “We’ll try it then,” Glanni said, helping Ithro to stand.
It took some doing, as well as a few dangerous lurches over the bin, for Glanni to get Ithro back in bed. He closed his eyes as Glanni laid a cool hand back on his forehead, asking, “Do you think you can try to keep down some paracetamol?”
“I can try,” Ithro replied. He sighed. “I can’t remember the last time I felt this bad.
“I can’t either,” Glanni replied as he helped Ithro to take the pills. “You don’t get sick very often.”
“Means I pay for it worse when I do.” Ithro replied as Glanni pulled the covers up on him.
“God, I hope not,” Glanni said, climbing back into bed. It wasn’t often that he was the big spoon; just when Ithro was sick or injured, or upset by something.
He dozed back off with his nose in Ithro’s hair, an arm around his boyfriend.
Glanni woke up to the sound of Ithro throwing up into the bin. He sat up and began rubbing his back, just saying over and over, “It’s alright. It’ll be okay. It’ll be over soon.”
He was ready when Ithro set the bin down, and started crying. He always cried when he threw up, and even he didn’t know why. He just sat down beside him and held him, kissing the top of his head. He was worried about the fever that he felt.
Finally, he calmed down, and Glanni kissed his forehead, then went to empty the bin. He came back with the clean bin, a glass of water, and a cool washcloth.
“Just drink a little,” Glanni said, helping Ithro hold the glass. He then set it on the bedside table, wiping his face and the back of his neck with the cool cloth. He then held Ithro close, letting him bury his head in the crook of his neck.
“Feel awful,” Ithro mumbled.“
“I know,” Glanni replied. “I’m going to wake up Robbie and Sportacus to tell them to take Ella and the boys to school. I honestly don’t feel right leaving you alone for long.”
“I’d be okay long enough for you to do that. It’s just a stomach bug.”
“Frankly, my dear,” Glanni said, stopping at the doorway, turning, and raising an eyebrow, “that is absolute bullshit.”
That sinking feeling that Glanni was trying to suppress came back full force when he returned to find Ithro retching into the bin. Robbie and Sportacus had immediately agreed to get the boys and Ella up and ready, dropping them off on the way to class, promising to keep their phones on in case they were needed.
Sportacus poked his head in as Robbie was getting the boys ready for school. All that had to be really done with Ella was make sure that she had everything, as, even with a checklist, she occasionally forgot things, but where both Glanni and Robbie had the same issue, they had taught her the same system that had worked for them. Noticing that his brother had fallen back asleep, he asked Glanni, “How is he?” Knowing how rarely his brother fell ill, he was not optimistic about Glanni’s response.
“At least he’s not thrown up since I went and woke you and Robbie up.”
“Here’s hoping that it was just a mild case of food poisoning or something like that,” Sportacus said, hoping that he wasn’t jinxing the situation as he went back out to help Ella find her shoes, then to help Flobby tie his.
Glanni, relieved that Ithro had managed to sleep through all the hubbub of getting four kids ready for school, decided that it would be appropriate to text Straujárn and let him know that Ithro was sick, but that it wasn’t a cause for concern. He quickly replied to keep him posted, and to call if he needed him. He then fell asleep as Ithro rolled over and buried his head in his chest.
Waking up to being thrown up on was, in spite of being the oldest of six, and having a big hand in the upbringing of the youngest four, not an experience that Glanni had ever quite gotten used to. He did manage to avoid shrieking out of shock, and focus on comforting Ithro, who was shaking like a leaf, completely shocked that he had woke up throwing up.
As soon as he stopped, he burst into tears, wrapping his arms around his stomach.
As Glanni held him, not caring about the mess, as it could be cleaned, and comforting Ithro was far more important to him, he was starting to get a sinking feeling that this was more than a case of food poisoning or a stomach bug.
“Glanni…I think…I need to go to…the hospital.”
“I think you’re right. You’re in so much pain that I would rather go and it be something small…”
“I know,” Ithro replied, slowly climbing out of the bed, looking in disgust at the mess. He then clapped a hand over his mouth, retching behind it.
“Just throw up on the sheet,” Glanni said as he changed into jeans and a sweater, pulling out a pair of sleep pants and a hoodie for Ithro. “I have to strip it anyway, so don’t worry about it.”
He looked on in concern as Ithro retched violently several times before bringing up some acid, bile, and the water Glanni kept coaxing into him. He then cried out, clutching his stomach.
“Come on, let’s get you dressed, “Glanni said, helping Ithro into the sleep pants and hoodie, with the bin ready, fortunately, as he was taken over by two bouts of retching, once while he was actually getting dressed, and the other while Glanni stripped the sheets and threw them in the washer.
“Shit, I need to call your dad, and,” he looked down, “shoes. I need shoes.”
As miserable as Ithro felt, he had to laugh at how ditzy Glanni could be sometimes.
Straujárn met them at the hospital, his face pinched with worry. Fortunately, they were both allowed back with Ithro while they were waiting for him to be examined. Straujárn quietly filled out all of the paperwork and turned it in.
The doctor came in, a kind-looking man with dark brown hair and blue eyes, with a moustache. He introduced himself as Dr. Carl Latham, then quickly, but thoroughly examined Ithro. He concluded by nodding sharply.
“I’m almost completely certain that it’s appendicitis. I need to do surgery as soon as possible.” He then made quick work of arranging for an operating room. He then smiled kindly at both Glanni and Straujárn, then said, “There is a waiting room three doors down and to the left. If the two of you want to go there and wait, I will let you know any news as it happens.”
Straujárn and Glanni both nodded as two orderlies came in. Straujárn immediately went over and kissed his elder son on the forehead. “I’ll be here the whole time, and I’ll see you when you wake up.”
Glanni then kissed Ithro on the cheek. “I’ll be here too, dear heart.”
Two hours later, Glanni was a mess, pacing the room anxiously. Sportacus and Robbie were on their way, as they had a test that could not be made up without a lot of hassle, so were taking it, then coming.
Straujárn stood up as Glanni began punching the brick wall, sobbing almost silently. When the next blow fell onto Straujárn’s palm instead of the slightly bloody wall, he fell into Straujárn’s arms, sobbing so hard that he seemed to be vibrating.
Straujárn guided him to a chair, holding him until his sobs slowed, then examined Glanni’s bloody knuckles, gently feeling them for any damage. “You know, this solves nothing,” he said quietly.“
"I know,” Glanni replied, shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs. “I’m just so scared. What if it’s something worse? What if…oh, God, what if I lose him?”
“I’ll let you in on something,” Straujárn said, drawing Glanni close, but meeting his eyes for just a moment, blue on grey, “I’m terrified. That’s my son in there, going through something that I can’t take on for him. I have to hope for the best, because the worst is something that I refuse to imagine. Do you get what I’m saying?” He felt Glanni nod against his chest, almost dozing as Straujárn stroked his hair. He was of the belief that no child, biological or not, ever grew too old to be held and petted if they wanted or needed it.
He looked up as Robbie and Sportacus entered the room. Robbie immediately looked his brother over, saw that he was dozing, then sat down.
“Have you heard anything?” Sportacus asked his father.
“Not yet, but it’s not been particularly long.” He looked up as Milford entered the room, looked his younger brother over, and, having heard him answer Sportacus’ question, sat down beside his younger brother, who immediately laid his head on his shoulder.
It was less than half an hour later when Dr. Latham came into the waiting room with a gentle smile on his face. “Everything went fine,” he said.
