A/N: Double update!

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Chapter Thirty-One: Sick

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Ophelia:

Tuesday morning I wake up at like, 5 am with this horrible nausea and spend a lot of time hunched over the toilet bowl, retching the contents of my stomach, which is apparently nothing but a lot of bile and mucus and saliva.

And I have these cramps and disgusting, watery diarrhea and I feel so gross and sick and just really, really bleckh.

Mom's in the kitchen by 7 o'clock as I clutch my achy stomach and trudge towards her in my pyjamas. The nausea is so bad and my muscles hurt and I'm so tired. "Mommy. I feel so sick." Ugh, why am I crying too? "My stomach really, really hurts."

"Oh, baby. It's okay. Here, sit down."

She pulls out one of the barstools in front of the island and sits me down and gets me to explain all my symptoms to her. "Sounds like you have a stomach bug, Fee. You need to rest and drink lots of water. I'll take you to the clinic when I get back from work, okay?"

She presses the back of her hand to my forehead and my cheeks, musses my hair and gives me a comforting hug. "I'll call your school and tell them you're not feeling well. You should stay home today. I know we have some Gravol around here somewhere..."

She rushes around the kitchen before setting a full glass of cool water, a couple round, pink pills, and a can of ginger-ale in front of me. "If your muscle pain gets worse, take an Advil, okay? Not the cold-and-sinus kind, just the normal kind. It's in the medicine cabinet."

I choke down the pills and water and force myself to crack open the ginger-ale even though I'm still so nauseous.

The scent of crisping toast wafts through the kitchen and just smells so noxious all of a sudden.

"I'll call you a few times throughout the day to check in, okay? Keep your phone on. But if you're sleeping, don't worry about it, just call me when you wake up."

She's already all dressed for work, looking as beautiful and put-together as she usually does in a grey dress and pantyhose and with her hair and make-up all nice. Except her forehead is wrinkled with concern as she helps me to my room and tucks me in under the covers. "I'm gonna come and bring you some tea and orange juice, okay? You're probably not hungry, but if you are, I'll keep some soup on the stove for you. You'll just have to heat it up in the microwave."

"Thanks, Mom."

She purses her lips worriedly. "If it gets worse, call me and I'll see if I can take the day off or something, okay?"

"I think I should be fine," I say, even though I feel like crap. Mom loves her job and she has a very important role at The Press so I know that missing a day is easier said than done for her.  "Love you."

"Love you too, sweetheart." She brushes my hair away from my forehead and gives my cheek a gentle pinch.

A few minutes later, someone knocks on the door and then pushes it open. "Hey, princess. What's up?" Dad's all ready for work too. He also looks really professional and I personally think he looks young for his age, and my friends say he's very handsome but he's my dad so I don't know about that. He's wearing grey slacks and a light-blue-and-white pin-striped button-down shirt and a dark red tie and his hair is still a little damp from his shower.

He sits on the edge of the bed and touches his fingers to my forehead as I explain, "Super nauseous and icky and achy. Mom says she thinks I have a stomach flu."

"Damn, that stinks. Text me later about how you're doing, okay? Make sure you drink lots of water and get some rest."

Mom comes in to leave a steaming cup of tea and some orange juice onto the side table. She rests a hand on Dad's shoulder and they both look at me with those soft, my-poor-baby expressions on their faces.

Another knock on the door. Darcy has his backpack slung over his shoulder as he stands at the threshold and peers into the room. Even he looks a little sympathetic. "You okay?"

"Stomach bug," we all say at the same time. That makes me giggle a little.

Darcy gets a mischievous look on his face and then offers, "Want some weed? It's good for nausea."

Mom whips her head around and chastises, "Darcy Johnathan Stone—"

Darcy winks at her. "Kidding."

She shakes her head and makes her way towards him, gives his shoulder a good shove. "Get to school, you brat."

"Love you, Mom," he grins.

"Where's your stash? I'm gonna flush it down the toilet..."

She thwacks him and he laughs as they walk down the hall and I hear him call, "Feel better, Fee!"

Dad shakes his head, rolls his eyes, shoots me a look that says, aren't they nuts? before giving me a peck of the forehead. He smooths my hair back and says, "Get some rest," and then leaves, shutting the door behind him.

I drink the orange juice and the chamomile tea and thankfully the Gravol kicks in so I don't puke anymore.

I sleep on and off and don't have any appetite for the soup Mom left on the stove. My room has it's own bathroom that I spend an entire hour around noon sitting in, miserable and... uh, runny, I guess.

Mom gets home quite early from work and takes me to see Dr. Meyer, our family doctor. We have to wait like an hour in the waiting room and I end up rushing to the patient washroom and vomiting once in the process so that sucks.

Dr. Meyer listens to my symptoms and checks my throat and confirms it's likely a stomach flu. She tells me to drink lots of fluids and get lots of rest and take Gravol and anti-inflammatories as necessary, but that there's nothing much I can do besides wait it out. She explains that unless the symptoms escalate, there's no reason to be worried and it should clear itself in a day or two.

Mom picks up Chinese on the way home because it's Take-Out Tuesday. As she's driving, I get a text from Luke, around 3 PM, that asks what time he should stop by. Oh shoot. We were supposed to go out for frozen yoghurt...

I forgot to tell you that I got
the stomach flu this morning
I'm really gross and yucky 🤢🤮
And on bedrest

Damn that sucks
Feel better and keep me updated?

Thanks  ❤️

Normally I love Chinese food but right now the smell just nauseates me, so I escape to my room as soon as we get home.

I'm kinda just wallowing in my ickiness, sinking into a fresh pair of fleecy pyjamas, when there's a knock on my door. "Looks like you have a visitor, Fee," Mom says, sounding half wry and half amused.

I sit up, confused, and my heart does a little fluttery thing in my chest when I see Luke standing in my doorway, looking so tall and handsome in jeans and a navy t-shirt. "Hey," he greets, tossing me a crooked grin even though he seems a little worried.

Oh no. I'm so... sick and ugly and crusty and not sexy or pretty right now, but as he comes into my room he doesn't look like he cares at all.

"I'm a little contagious, apparently," I warn.

"Don't worry, I won't kiss your pukey mouth," he teases.

I'd throw a pillow at him except he's carrying two small containers of... awwww. Frozen yoghurt.

"I heard you haven't been eating anything," he explains, passing me one of the containers with a bright green plastic spoon.

"Thanks, Luke. You're amazing."

He comes to sit down beside me and would you believe me if I said that this frozen yogurt, my three favourite flavours with my favourite toppings brought to me by my favourite person, is the only thing that I've felt like eating all day?

We sit and munch on our yoghurt and he tells me about work today at the engineering firm, about this big emergency they had due to some electrical malfunction or something.

At the back of my mind, I'm busy thinking that I really, really hope that I'm all better before the weekend because I don't want our first-time plans to get ruined.

"So it's a stomach flu?" he asks, swallowing a spoonful of chocolate fro-yo and skor bits and passionfruit boba.

"Yeah. It's really gross."

"Like... puking and diarrhea and stuff?"

I blush. "And my muscles are really achey, and I'm kinda tired."

"Dad had that a few weeks ago," he tells me. "He was such a baby about it and Mum kept making fun of him."

I giggle, imagining it easily.

We finish our yoghurt and it definitely feels nice having something in my stomach for once.

I groan and stretch my shoulders because the Advil I took this morning is wearing off and the aches are coming back and it hurts...

Luke takes the empty yoghurt container from my hands and tosses both our paper bowls into the garbage by my bed. "Here, scoot forward," he instructs, climbing further onto the bed.

"I don't wanna get you sick..."

"I'll be fine," he promises. He comes to sit behind me with his legs stretched out on either side of me. He feels so warm and strong and hard...

He starts to massage my shoulders and a happy, relieved groan spills instinctively from my mouth. "That feels so nice, Luke."

His fingers and hands are firm but gentle as they knead into the muscles of my neck and upper back. "Right here?"

"Mhm." Another soft whimper. Why is he so good at this?

"How about here?"

"So good, Luke."

I lean back against him as he eases away the aches and pains with his big, strong, talented hands, murmuring little comforting things into my ear and making me moan and sigh the entire time.

"What the fuck, Luke..." My bedroom door swings open and Darcy stands there, gaping at us. He blinks a couple times, his miffed expression melting into confusion.

I'm equally confused, but Luke looks towards him and seems to know exactly what's going on. "Just giving her a back-rub, you perv."

Oh my God, he thought...

I tuck my head down against my chest, blushing and not looking at him.

"It sounded like you guys were filming a porno."

"Darcy!" I squeal, futilely throwing a decorative cushion towards him, even though it misses by a long shot.

He looks relieved and maybe even a little sheepish. "Want some dinner?" he asks. "Mom said to see if you want her to bring you something."

"I'm okay, thanks. Luke, do you want some Chinese food?"

"Mum's cooking dinner. I should get home soon, but thanks."

"Come and get something if you change your mind," Darcy says before tugging the door shut and walking away, mumbling something unintelligible under his breath.

As soon as my brother is gone we both break into soft laughter. "I cannot believe that he thought we were..."

Luke's hands skim down the fluffy long-sleeves of my shirt, giving my arms a squeeze. "You did sound pretty sexy, Feelz," he mumbles, amused, into my ear.

I give his arm a thwack. "I'm so disgusting right now. And I probably smell."

He buries his head in the back of my hair and takes a good long whiff of me and it makes me giggle and squirm.

And then he starts tickling me, drifting his fingers beneath my shirt, over the sensitive skin of my lower stomach, until I'm squealing and breathless and he finally gives me a break.

"I guess I should leave you to get some rest," he says, pressing a kiss to my temple and then swinging his long legs off the bed.

He makes a big fuss of tucking me in and I stick my tongue out at him, yawning and smiling at the same time.

"Want me to read you a story before I go?" he teases, except that sounds like an excellent idea.

"Yes, please!"

He chuckles and shakes his head and walks over to my bookshelf, fingering the colourful spines of some of my kids books that I still have lying around. "Damn, you have Robert Munsch in French?"

"Oh my gosh, please can you read me a book in French? Pretty please?"

We're both pretty much bilingual since most students in Ontario study French since kindergarten. I always liked it, and Luke made sure to work really hard at it to get his DELF bilingual certificate because it can help you be more competitive in the workforce, apparently.

He sighs laboriously and plucks a thin, colourful, glossy book from the shelf and comes and sits beside me. "This one okay?"

"Perfect."

I sit up nicely and pay attention and he makes sure to show me all the pictures. "On partage tous..."

He even makes silly voices to go with the characters because they're supposed to be in day-care. It's a really stupid book about a couple little kids, a boy and a girl, who suck at sharing toys and keep getting in trouble by their teacher. Eventually they start getting the hang of sharing except they start over-sharing and they trade all their clothes so he's wearing her pink dress and she has his sweater and their teacher is horrified. But I love Robert Munsch, and Luke sounds really nice when he speaks in French, because he practiced having a decent accent when he was learning it, so...

When the story is finished, he leans down and kisses my forehead and says, "I hope you feel better."

"Me too. Thanks, Luke. You're the best."

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

And after he leaves I just feel so much better than before he came, and I am ten thousand percent sure that he is the best boyfriend ever.

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A/N:

Couldn't help but build up the first time suspense. I really hope she feels as good as new before the weekend. Nothing like gastroenteritis to take the sexy out of you...

Ten points to whoever can figure out the significance of Darcy's middle name.

XOXO Ami

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