Title: Sick Day
Author: Daisy
Fandom: South Park
Setting: Mike and Firkle's Apartment
Pairing: Mike "Vampir" Makowski/Firkle, Michael/Pete
Characters: Mike "Vampir" Makowski, Firkle, Michael, Pete
Genre: Romance/Friendship
Rating: T
Chapters: 1/1
Word Count: 723
Type of Work: One-Shot, Companion (Part Two) to It's An Incredible Mess
Status: Complete
Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, Fluff, Vomit, Sickness
Disclaimer: I don't own anything
Summary: After their first kiss lead Firkle and Mike to getting sick, they both manage to take good care of each other.
AN: So, here's the second part for It's An Incredible Mess. This took me a little longer than I'd like, but I'm still happy to get it done. ouo I hope you guys enjoy! (ALSO I AM NOT KIDDING. LOTS OF PUKE.)
Prompt: Imagine your otp coming down with a flu. Taking turns in making soup/tea for each other, huddling together on the couch, wrapped in blankets and watching Netflix.
Sick Day ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
If Mike felt half as bad as Firkle did, he still figured he'd be busy doting on him.
The poor goth had come down with a very severe case of 'superinfection', according to his doctor, who had offered to check Mike out, as well. Both young men had come down with a 'very aggressive' case of the stomach flu (a strain that wasn't covered in Mike's flu shot, much to his horror), and a head cold, both viral.
It seemed that Firkle was getting through the worst of it first, spending a few hours clinging to the porcelain God as he puked up everything he tried to keep down. The whole time, Mike was right there, rubbing his back and holding his hair (and desperately trying to keep his own stomach from churning too much), helping to get him through the quaking and the tears. Carefully dabbing at his eyes and mouth with different sheets of toilet paper and flushing them and the newest purge shortly after, he pulled the exhausted teen into his arms and rest his head back against his chest. Firkle was panting, now, tears streaming down his cheeks, face red and eyes irritated.
"How are feeling, Duckling?" He cooed softly, peppering kisses to his sweaty forehead. After a moment of not being pushed away, he took that as a pretty big indicator that Firkle was feeling pretty rotten.
"Like I died in the heating vent and someone turned the temperature up to match the sun." Firkle's little groan sounded so pathetic that Mike couldn't help but cradle him a little tighter, petting over his face gently.
"Geez.. You're burning up." He mumbled, licking his lips a little, "Do you think I could take you to bed?"
A noncommittal whine was all he received as a response, so he picked the smaller male up and carried him to bed. Wrapping him up in a cocoon of warmth and safety, he only left his side to fetch some ginger ale, a bucket, and a sleeve of saltine crackers. Upon his return, he barely managed to set down his prizes before booking it to the bathroom, himself, torn between clutching the bowl of the toilet and holding back his own long hair.
He had to admit that he was rather surprised to feel shaking hands tug the nearly two foot long strands back, his boyfriend very much looking like the picture of the undead as he closed his eyes and let his head fall back on his neck. That was a good call, it seemed, because seconds later Mike was busy clinging to the toilet, eyes clamped shut as his stomach purged itself of its contents. The distinct sting of bile and food coming out his nose had him gasping and tears fell down his cheeks with more ferocity than ever.
By the time the quaking of his shoulders had ceased to a dull throb and his brain was slamming against the confines of his skull, Mike was exhausted and pretty sure he looked as bad as he felt. His cheek resting on his arm on the toilet seat, he couldn't care too much about where he was; he'd been clinging to the toilet bowl for well over ten minutes, he felt pretty intimate with it, now. A gentle patting on his back opened his green eyes and he looked up at the other, smiling slightly. It didn't have the usual affect of making the goth frown and look away, flustered, instead it only had him reaching forward and flushing the other's stomach down the drain.
Reaching out to help lift the slightly taller man to his feet, the couple stumbled back to the bed and somehow managed to get under the covers after crashing into it. Between one feverish blink and the next, the remote for the TV and Netflix was in Mike's hand and he was turning on A Haunting In Silver Falls before Firkle knew which way was up. Snuggled up together, sweaty and dizzy and tempted to try eating something, the couple stayed that way for a long time. Mike's arm found its way around Firkle's shoulders, and the smaller male's head pillowed itself on his chest. Before they knew it, they were asleep, finally getting in more than two hours for the first time in two days.
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