Alex/Pete
"Bloody yarbles!" Alex shouts, throwing the door to Pete's apartment open.
"What?" Pete asks, not bothering to look up from his magazine. This happened from time to time, eventually Alex would get over whatever was on his mozg and go home.
"That sodding babootchka threw me out!" shouts his friend and leader. Pete "mm-hmms" and goes back to the mag when Alex starts to retch. Pete jumps up from the armchair and runs over.
"Not on the floor." he mutters as he half-drags Alex to the sink. Alex heaves and vomits into the rusting sink, yellow-green chunks swirling down the drain as Pete turns the tap on. He can practically see technicolor bubbles containing things like "urp" and "bleargh," as if they were in an old comic of some sort.
Alex retches again and cringes as bile rises in his throat. Pete rubs circles in his friend's back as more vomit is washed down the drain. Alex leans against the sink, trying not to cry as he heaves and convulses.
"You better not snuff it in my apartment. My landlord'd have my yarbles." Pete says, receiving a nod in return.
"You get pyahnitsa again?" Pete asks, shuffling about the kitchen and throwing around boxes. When Alex is done puking up whatever meal his body decided to reject, he turns to watch Pete scramble about.
"No, nothing like that. I think I had bad milk-plus at the Korova." he explains. Pete nods and keeps shuffling through his cupboards.
"What're you try-" Alex starts to ask, only to be cut off by another wave of nausea and puke. Pete comes up from the cupboard he'd been searching, successful.
"Found it." he says, setting a six-pack of ginger ale bottles on the counter.
Alex is bent over, dry-heaving, and, when he finally comes up from the sink, Pete holds out an opened bottle of the fizzing soda. Alex takes the bottle and downs half of it in one gulp, enjoying the temporary relief. Pete rolls his eyes and sits down at the small table.
"Let me guess, you got sick all over your em's furniture?" he asks. Alex nods and downs the other half of the soda, opening a new one and tossing the cap into a corner.
"Spot on, my droog. Damn, I'm fagged." Alex says, yawning as if to accentuate the point. Pete sighs and gets up, grabbing a ginger ale for himself and leading Alex to the bedroom.
"You sure you're not going to get sick all over the bed?" Pete asks. Alex nods, but Pete stands up from his place on the mattress anyway.
"Hang on, I'm getting a bowl or something just in case." he calls from the hall, returning with a silver mixing bowl. He sets it besides the bed as Alex strips down to his briefs.
"Will you hold me?" Alex asks as Pete tosses a blanket from the closet onto the bed.
"What?" he asks, a little taken aback by his leader's request.
"Y'know, snuggle. My em used to do it when I got sick and was little." Alex clarifies. Pete relaxes a little, he wasn't exactly sure what made him tense about the request, perhaps it was Alex's love for the old in-out.
"Sure." he says, pulling off his trousers and climbing under the covers with Alex. He pulls the taller man close and strokes his hair. Alex yawns again and presses closer to his youngest droog. Pete pulls another blanket up when he feels Alex shiver against him.
"Thanks, Pete." Alex mumbles between yawns, before falling asleep in Pete's arms. He smiles at his leader before falling asleep himself, happy he could be there for his friend, and happy Alex didn't spew on the carpet.