BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
"Ugh..." Mr. L groaned. "Why the L did I make this thing..."
Mr. L was woken up yet again by his rather annoying self-built alarm clock. He turned it off, accidentally knocking it off the table as usual. He threw the covers off himself and stood up, walking over to his dresser and opening the drawers.
Then, it hit him. "Ooohhhh..." He groaned, clutching his stomach. He staggered backwards and over to his bed. He collapsed on it, bringing his knees up to his chest and whining softly.
Once the nausea had passed, he slowly stood up again and got dressed. Thinking it wouldn't happen again, he hurried downstairs to the meeting.
However, the nausea returned. Right in the middle of Nastasia's lecture about taking care of yourself.
"Ngh..." He groaned quietly. He looked up at Nastasia, but she didn't seem to hear him.
"Hey, are you alright?" Dimentio whispered to Mr. L from a podium over.
"Y-yeah, I'm fine." Mr. L lied, nodding.
Dimentio raised both eyebrows, obviously not convinced. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, dude. Shush!" Mr. L placed a finger on his lips, fearing that Nastasia might hear. If she did, you'd get another hour of a lecture about talking when someone else is talking.
"Dimentio and Mr. L!" Nastasia exclaimed, turning an angry gaze towards the two. "How many times do I have to tell you, don't talk while I'm speaking, 'k?!"
"I am sorry, like a child who broke his mother's most favourite vase." Dimentio apologized, bowing his head slightly.
Nastasia looked at Mr. L. "Sorry..." He said quietly, the nausea escalating slightly.
Nastasia still looked angry. "Do you want to tell everyone else what this apparently 'important' conversation was about?"
Mr. L saw Dimentio pause and look down, as if he was listening to someone. His head suddenly jerked back up and he silently shook his head no, the bells on his jester hat jingling as he did so.
Mr. L shook his head as well. "Well then, I suggest that you keep your mouths shut and your ears open while I'm speaking, 'k?" Nastasia instructed.
"Yes, I shall do so from now on." Dimentio agreed, closing his eyes for a moment and nodding.
"Uh, yeah, anything you say, Nastasia." Mr. L smiled faintly, trying to hide the pain of his stomach turning inside-out.
"For your sake, I hope you'll keep that promise..." Nastasia growled, and continued on with her boring lecture.
"Ughh..." Mr. L moaned. He was lying on his bed away from the door, hoping to get a small sleep.
He then felt a sudden dimensional riff appear from behind him "Ah, I thought I might find you here."
"Get outta my room, clown-face." Mr. L growled, not wanting to see anyone. Especially Dimentio.
"My, don't we get grumpy when we're sick!" Dimentio smiled mockingly as he sat down on the foot of the bed.
"One, there's no 'we'. Two, I'm not sick. Three-"
"Oh, I beg to differ." Dimentio interrupted.
"On what, the 'we'?" Mr. L asked. So, he's creepy AND he's gay?! Mr. L thought to himself.
"No, on you saying you're not sick."
Mr. L rolled his eyes. "I probably just ate something that didn't agree with me. Now, will you get out?!" Mr. L asked, aggravated.
Dimentio shook his head. "Not until you have better."
"You 'have' better?" Mr. L questioned, raising an eyebrow.
"I-I mean, you feel better." Dimentio smiled, correcting himself. Mr. L suddenly felt a pressure against his back. Turning his head slightly, he saw Dimentio leaning over him.
"W-what're you doing?" Mr. L asked, a tad scared from Dimentio's sudden actions.
"I'm not doing anything, per say." Dimentio said, reaching his hand to cup Mr. L's cheek. "Look at me."
"W-what? Why?" Mr. L stammered.
"I'm not doing anything. I'm trying to check your temperature." Dimentio explained, still trying to find a place where he could actually see if L had a fever or not.
"O-oh..." Mr. L's cheeks flushed from his misunderstanding. He rolled onto his back so Dimentio could check him.
"Hmm..." Dimentio said thoughtfully, placing the back of his gloved hand against Mr. L's forehead. "My goodness, do you ever have a fever. Here," Dimentio began, getting off the bed and standing up. "Get your pyjamas on. I'll go get you a washcloth." And with that, he walked to the door, opened it, and left.
Mr. L sighed. From what Dimentio had said, he probably had the flu. He got up and shut his door before slipping into his comfy pyjamas. Laying back down on the bed, he got under the covers and snuggled against his pillow. There was one thing many people didn't know about Mr. L; he was a cuddler. There was no place he found himself more happy and content then in another's arms, pressed up against their warm body. When he was younger he would always demand hugs from his mother and older brother, Mr. M. However, since arriving at Castle Bleck, he hadn't found much time for cuddling...
Suddenly, Dimentio flipped back into the room, cold white washcloth in hand.
"Here." Dimentio offered softly, sitting down on the bed and handing the cloth to Mr. L.
"Thanks." L whispered, taking the cold material and placing it comfortably on his forehead. It was strange, it seemed that whenever Dimentio was around, the pain and nausea would somewhat... go away. But, as soon as he left, it came back, and worse. It was like Dimentio was living, breathing Tylenol. Weird.
"Hmm..." L sighed contentedly. Although the pain in his stomach was still there, and that he had a small headache, he just felt so... at ease. Even though he knew that he couldn't trust anyone here, Dimentio always made him relax, helped him clear his mind. His smooth voice and playful tone had always drawn the mechanic towards him. Or, maybe it was his clothing choice. Or maybe...
"Mr. L?" Dimentio asked, breaking the silence.
"Yeah?" L replied, turning his head slightly so he could see the younger man.
"How do you feel?"
"Better."
"Good enough for me to leave?"
"No."
Dimentio smiled. It had been a while since he felt wanted, and it felt great. It made him all warm and fuzzy inside. He loved that feeling. That feeling that just makes you want to giggle like a schoolgirl and not care what anyone thinks. The feeling that makes you want to jump up and down while screaming "YAY!" at the top of your lungs, all the while holding your best friend's hand. The feeling that makes you want to hug someone...
Hug. That was something Dimentio had not done in a long time. He hadn't hugged, or been hugged for what seemed like an eternity. He wanted love. He wanted affection. But, that would show his emotions. No, not now, he would always tell himself. Not now, when you're so close to your goal...
"Dim?" Mr. L asked, sitting up slightly. The cloth fell from his forehead onto the bed next to him.
"Yes, Mr. L?" Dimentio looked up at the sick man.
"Uh, could you, um..." Mr. L picked up the cloth beside him and began nervously playing with it.
"What?" Dimentio questioned, looking Mr. L in the eye. "You can ask me."
"Um, c-could I have... a-a hug...?" Mr. L asked quietly, refusing to meet Dimentio's gaze.
Dimentio smiled once again. Now was his chance, most likely his only chance, to get that affection he so desperately craved. Carefully wrapping his slender arms around Mr. L's middle, he pulled the mechanic into a friendly embrace.
Mr. L buried his face in Dimentio's neck, returning the hug. "Diiimmm..." he moaned quietly, "I don't feel good..."
"Shh..." Dimentio soothed, rubbing L's back to calm him down. "It's okay, shh..."
For a very long time, Dimentio had not felt love. He had not felt needed. He had not felt love for what felt like an eternity. But, now, he felt loved. Needed. And it felt great.