Starting this story AGAIN and hopefully it works. Life has been all over the place for me (I have huge exams to worry about but) this plot idea won't leave me alone. This is the humanized/gijinka versions of the characters, by the way. Flaky is also male in here.
Warnings: Age play, nothing explicit. Male x male.
He wasn't quite sure what he was thinking when he packed his bag and he stepped out of his warm house into the blizzard. There were many things present on his mind, but nothing at the same time. His head pounded and throbbed and his stomach twisted, and he couldn't stop making pathetic little moans of pain. He trudged through the snow, cursing how it bit his face and poured into his winter boots. Lights of buildings he passed made his head ache more, and also served to make him dizzy. 'Hospital. Just get to the hospital…' Getting to his destination had been his main concern when he left his house, but that worry was replaced with struggling with the urge not to collapse into the snow drifts quickly piling higher and higher.
He lost. With a stagger, he fell against a wall, dropping his bag somewhere next to him. He breathed heavily, trying to figure out why he was so damn hot and why sweat was pouring down his face when it was below 40 degrees outside. It was dark and cold, and he was sick and lost. He stood there for a while before attempting to stand properly again when his sight clouded black and he was left blind. With a small whine he fell to his knees, scrambling for his bag. 'Don't fall asleep, don't fall asleep, don't fall asleep!' His knees went weak and he fell sideways, panting and huffing, and unable to see.
He fell into a feverish sleep.
"Stupid snow…" The Mole mumbled, walking out of the grocery store with an armful of things. The snow hadn't been kind to him when he parked and he ended up in a snow drift a good walk away from the grocery store. He determined it wouldn't be difficult to get out of the drift, but he was close enough to the store so he just got out and walked.
The Mole was walking back to his car (or in the direction of) and his walking stick hit something. Normally he navigated around whatever, but what he hit seemed rather large, and on the sidewalk. The Mole frowned, tapping the object with his stick lightly. He received a small moan; the Mole gasped and bent down immediately. It was a person! "Are you okay?" He asked, shaking the person lightly. He didn't hear a response; and his medical knowledge kicked in. He felt the person's neck, and he could feel that they had a high and potentially lethal temperature. He felt their fingers under their gloves, and he could feel that frostbite was starting to develop.
The Mole frowned, wondering how long this person was there and who it was. The town was fairly small, and he knew everyone pretty much because of his work at the hospital. The person had small boney wrists, and smooth skin; he thought it was a girl. The Mole shook his head at himself; he would have to figure out who they were after he got them somewhere safe. The Mole made a face, wondering how would he get them to his car when he had an armful of groceries and only a vague notion of where his car was. With a guilty sigh, he stood up and turned around to walk back into the grocery store.
The Mole turned to his immediate right where the tills were. "I need some help!" He called out a little frantically. Hopefully he wasn't making a scene; he had been one of the only people crazy enough to brave the cold weather.
"Mole...? What's wrong?" He heard feet shuffle up before him and he recognized the timid voice of the person.
Flaky. "Flaky. Can you help me? There's a sick person passed out on the sidewalk outside." The teenage boy standing in front of him gasped.
"O-oh! Of course! A-ah, uh...do you want me to call for an ambulance? What do y-you need?"
The Mole frowned, thinking about this. He was the one usually driving the ambulance; and the only few others working at the hospital were Sniffles, Lumpy and Giggles; Lumpy was the only one old enough other than him to actually drive it and Sniffles wasn't very good at it. The Mole cringed when he thought of what further damage would happen to the person if he left them in Lumpy's hands. "Erm, no. I'm the one who drives the ambulance, you see." He couldn't see the red headed boy, but he was sure he was nodding. "So if you could step out with me to help me get them to my car, I can take care of them. Would you please?"
"Oh! Y-yes." As if on cue Nutty bounced past; he was one of Flaky's co-workers. "U-uhm, Nutty..." Flaky started shyly, and he managed to get Nutty to stop and listen. "There's a sick person outside and the Mole needs me to help him with that, so I'll be stepping out a minute, okay? C-could you take my station, p-please? Just for a while?"
Nutty looked the pair over, Flaky who looked worried, which wasn't unusual for the boy. The Mole on the other hand nearly showed no emotion most of the time, but he looked antsy and frustrated that moment. Nutty grinned at the other teenager. "Sure! I'll tell Disco Bear." With that Nutty bounded off again in the direction of the tills that Flaky had been working at.
"T-thanks, Nutty!" Flaky called out after him.
"Okay, thanks Flaky...but seriously, they're developing frostbite and they have a high fever. I need to help them now." Flaky squeaked and nodded, and shakily grabbed the Mole by his elbow, leading him outside as fast as possible. "They were off to the left, lying on the sidewalk."
Flaky gasped, and tugged the Mole along. "Mime! It's Mime. He looks terrible." The Mole stooped where Flaky led him, reaching put and touching Mime's forehead. He was sweating heavily and he was shaking and trembling, and making little moaning noises in his unconscious state.
The Mole clicked his tongue. "This is worse than I thought. Flaky, can you take these groceries to my car? I'll take Mime." He stood and handed the younger male his groceries. Flaky stood and gathered Mime's bag as the Mole picked Mime up off the ground; and the Mole was a little shocked at how light and thin he was. Flaky tugged the Mole in the direction of his car (tripping and sending the Mole's groceries flying) and the Mole laid Mime down on the back seat of his car. Flaky set the Mole's groceries in his passenger seat.
"A-ah...will you be able to get your car out? Will you and Mime be okay?" Flaky shivered in the winter wind; he hadn't grabbed his coat and he was standing outside in his uniform and apron. The Mole noticed this however, by the amount Flaky had grabbed and led him around.
The Mole nodded. "I'm just as good at this stuff as Sniffles. He'll be fine. Thank you, Flaky." The Mole offered the younger boy a small smile. "Okay, I think you should go inside before Disco Bear decides to fire you or you freeze to death." The Mole added lightly, teasing the other male.
Flaky made a strange, small grunting noise in surprise. "H-he'd do that? Uhm...well I gotta go then. See you later, Mole! G-good luck with Mime!" With that the red headed boy took off running. The Mole shook his head and then jumped into his car; he had started it as soon as he had gotten to it before. It had warmed up nicely and it was ready to be driven. The Mole managed to back out of the snow bank and leave the parking lot nicely enough, and it sounded as though he only had knocked over a garbage can so far. Luckily because of the weather, he didn't have to worry about pedestrians or traffic as much.
They made it back to the Mole's house in record time. It wasn't the Mole's style to speed along, but with Mime's worsening condition he didn't really have time to think about anything else. The Mole ignored his groceries and pulled Mime into his arms and into his house, making sure he locked his car and plugged it in as well. It wouldn't do it he really did have to take Mime to the hospital and his car wouldn't start.
As carefully as he could, he made it to his room and laid Mime down in his bed when he got inside. The Mole yanked off all of Mime's outside clothing, tossing off the soaking wet boots and his coat and gloves. The Mole felt his forehead; he was soaked in sweat and snow, and he was moaning in pain and his skin was like fire. The Mole shook a little, his mind reeling with all of the things he would have to do in order to keep Mime in a stable condition.
The Mole left, pulling off his own winter clothing as he walked as fast as possible to his kitchen. He filled bowl with cool water and placed a small cloth in the water. The Mole thought about how wet Mime's clothes were; if Mime was drenched in sweat and melted snow, he would never recover, only worsen. As much as he didn't want to do it without Mime's permission, he would have to change him into dry clothing so he could warm up.
The Mole made it back to his room carrying everything, balancing it with one arm and using his walking stick with his other hand. Mime was still panting and moaning. The Mole had to feel around his room and bed to find Mime again, careful of where he was touching. Once he found the other male again, he put the cloth on Mime's forehead; he had to smile in slight amusement at how Mime still bothered to wear his makeup while he was sick with a high fever.
The Mole found one of his smaller, lighter shirts and a pair of sweatpants. The Mole flushed a little; he hadn't done this before. Sniffles or Giggles usually changed patients if needed, depending on the patient. He took the cloth off of Mime, setting everything aside and as far away as possible. The Mole moved in close, lifting Mime up by his head and around his waist, tugging him into his lap and chest. Mime was thin and light, it worried the Mole a little; as far as he knew, Mime was fifteen and he should be heavier and larger for a boy his age. He tugged Mime's shirt off, and replaced it with the dry shirt. The Mole felt a little guilty, but he pulled both of Mime's hands into his own and hugged him, hoping to warm the smaller male up a little.
Just for a little while. The frostbite didn't feel too severe; when Flaky was helping him earlier, he had the teenager look at Mime's hands and feet and he said it looked like he was burned, but it was barely noticeable. The Mole would have to thaw Mime's appendages later, after he settled him more. The Mole laid Mime back down, and he pulled his pants off, and replaced them with his sweatpants, adjusting the string to fit Mime. The Mole sat back and rested for a while, thinking of everything else he had to do.
Sponge bath. The Mole nodded to himself; if he sponged Mime's skin down, that should help him cool off. Before he could do that however, he had to thaw Mime's fingers and toes. The Mole sped off and returned with containers filled with warm water, and propped Mime up in the proper positions for him to set his hands and feet into the tubs.
The Mole rolled his sleeves up after setting the tubs up, and he started to wipe down Mime's skin with cool water. Mime's skin was really hot; the Mole had to pull the sleeves of the shirt he put on him as well as the legs of the sweatpants. The Mole smiled a little again, thinking of how soft Mime's skin was, and how he had thought Mime was a girl at first. Now that he was feeling more of the other boy's skin, he could feel how boney and thin he was, although soft.
The Mole placed the cloth back on Mime's forehead, moving his hair out of the way. Tempted, the Mole slowly reached forward, running his fingers through Mime's hair gently. Mime's hair was rather long in the front; his bangs were long, and the back of his hair was short. The Mole grinned at this, although blushing at himself slightly.
The Mole had another idea. He brushed his hands over Mime's face, touching his nose, his lips, feeling his eye lashes. It felt wrong to him, to be touching Mime like that; but he also thought that he should probably try and remove his makeup; it was redundant if he was sick in bed. Mime had soft everything, it seemed to the Mole; he was used to everything being short and unrefined when it came to himself. Mime whimpered in his sleep and stirred a little. The Mole jumped and pulled his hands away, flushing furiously at himself.
Mime didn't wake, much to the Mole's relief. He stood quickly, rushing off to cook Mime something nice and warm and getting him a drink. As guilty as he felt, he also went and got another wet cloth for removing Mime's makeup.
After he had Mime's makeup off, he sat and wished he could see what he looked like. The Mole sat on his bed next to Mime, facing his direction with the cloth clutched in his hands on his knee, slowly wetting the fabric of his pants. The Mole sighed; he hadn't really ever spent a lot of time caring for someone like this. He had patients, but he was never so close to someone, and he had another person in his house even less. Mime was delicate-feeling, and the Mole liked taking care of him, although he was trying to figure out what to say to him without sounding like some sort of pervert.
Mime's food was done without much trouble, and the Mole removed Mime's hands and feet from the water. The Mole held his breath as he leaned forwards a little, touching a hand to Mime's shoulder and shaking him gently in an attempt to wake him. "...Mime. Mime, wake up."
It took a few minutes of the Mole shaking Mime and calling his name before the smaller male woke up.
"...Ngh? ...Where?" The Mole was stunned at Mime's voice, he had never heard him speak before.
"Mime. It's, uh, me. Mole. You have a fever. I found you passed out on the street next to the grocery store."
"...Mole?" Mime seemed more self-conscious, but he also seemed to be very disoriented. The small teenager drew his limbs closer to himself. "...Oh, no, talking-"
The Mole shook his head, and reached forwards, finding Mime's lips with surprising ease and silencing him. "No. It's okay. You're really sick, Mime. You have frostbite, too. How do your fingers and toes feel? How do you feel?" The Mole pulled his hand away.
Mime's skin still felt hot. "...Uhhn, I-I..." Mime sunk back into the pillows the Mole had set up behind him. "My stomach hurts. I'm so dizzy...it hurts. My fingers and toes feel fine." Mime's voice cracked.
The Mole sighed, figuring Mime had only just started to develop symptoms of frostbite. "Good. Uh...well, I made you some vegetable soup, hopefully you can hold that down? You should drink something, too. You could have water, or ginger ale."
"Water. Please. Mole...I feel really, really dizzy. C-could...you help me, please? I hurt so much all over..." It sounded like Mime wanted to cry. The Mole panicked a little, standing up.
"S-sure. You'll be fine, I promise. I'll get you some water. Are you cold? Are you hungry?" The Mole stood so fast he just about fell over.
"I'm dying. I feel really, really hot...but I feel cold, too. Uhm...I think I could handle some food, if you don't mind." The boy sitting on the Mole's bed made a small moaning noise out of pain. The Mole nodded quickly, pacing off, becoming flustered for reasons unknown to himself. The Mole got Mime his water, as well as some Motrin to help kill the pain. Mime thanked him shakily. The Mole rushed off afterwards and got him some soup, as well as a thin blanket.
"Here you go." The Mole placed the bowl of soup on his nightstand next to his bed, and pulled the blanket over Mime. Then he gave Mime the soup, with Mime thanking him quietly again. The Mole sat on his bed at Mime's feet, looking in the direction of the floor. "I'm sorry I had to change your clothes and stuff. You were soaked from when I found you in the snow."
Mime started eating his food and drinking his cold water, starting to feel better. "It's alright...you're helping me." The bed creaked and the Mole could tell Mime was trying to rest. The Mole reached forward, groping the air. "...What are you-" Mime's voice was cut off by the Mole's hand connecting with his forehead, removing the cloth. The Mole put the cloth down, patting Mime's forehead and then letting his fingers drop down to his neck, taking his temperature. Mime made a strange squeaking noise; the Mole trailed his hand back up to Mime's forehead.
"Hold still." The Mole mumbled, and he stood, keeping his hand planted firmly on Mime's forehead. Mime backed away slightly, squeaking again. The Mole pressed his forehead to Mime's, and the teenager gasped, shaking. The Mole flushed at their closeness, not really sure why he wanted to get so close to the other boy. "You're still really warm." The Mole pulled away, bumping into the nightstand. "You should sleep. It's around nine."
The bed creaked. "U-uh...yeah. I feel..."
When Mime didn't respond, the Mole would have asked why, but Mime vomited. Mime apologized over and over, but the Mole told him it was alright; he had only thrown up on the floor. The Mole had Mime drink some more water and some ginger ale, and then had him go to sleep and cleaned up after the mess and picked up all the bowls and tubs.
This was going to be a long night.
I'll probably continue. I had every intention of making this a oneshot, but it's taking a life of it's own, so...
I'll try add more fluff to it next chapter, if I make one.
-Thanks for reading!