Update, 12/18/08: Name changes for minor OCs. See Chapter 2's Author Note.
Update, 6/19/08: Fixed the ungodly number of typos hiding in here. I cringed while rereading it.
Disclaimer: Namco owns all the Tekken characters... Even the wonderful Hwoarang...
Not Feeling Well
"This place is filthy..." Faith muttered, looking around her at the disastrous appearance of the apartment. "He said to make myself at home... May as well see where everything is."
Setting her feet on the ground, she gingerly stood up and limped towards the two doors on the far side of the room, investigating what she hadn't seen yet.
"That's a bathroom... A very dirty bathroom..." she said to herself, looking into the first door that happened to be slightly open.
Making a quarter turn, she was confronted by another door, this one completely closed. Opening it slightly, the first thing she saw was an unmade bed in the corner.
'A bedroom... I know I shouldn't go in...'
Fighting down the urge to snoop around her host's room, she closed the door. Not knowing what else to do, she went to the kitchen and sat down in the seat she had occupied earlier. There were still fries left in the take-out boxes, which hadn't been moved to the garbage. Suddenly hungry again, Faith opened one and picked up a limp fry, bringing it to her mouth hesitantly. She almost gagged when she put it in her mouth and chewed.
"Ugh... chewy potatoes..."
Pushing the box away from her in disgust, she looked around the small kitchen. Dishes were stacked haphazardly in the sink, and the counters looked as though they hadn't been washed since they were installed.
'Definitely a bachelor...'
With a sigh of boredom she stood up again, slowly making her way to the loaded sink.
'Might as well do something productive. Although some of these might take a few hours to wash,' she thought, holding up a plate encrusted in what seemed to be pizza cheese and wrinkling her nose. 'Let's just hope he has dish soap and a sponge... Not likely though.'
To her surprise, when she checked the cabinet beneath the sink, both sat directly in front of her, unopened and still in plastic wrap.
'At least he has something, even if it's not used.'
Taking out the untouched bottles, she began to empty the sink, preparing to fill it. Armed with the hot water and extra strength cleaner, she set to work, scouring away until everything except the floor looked safe to be a part of a kitchen.
By the time she was finished, her thigh had started to throb so bad it brought tears to her eyes.
'I guess that's all I can do for now...' she mused tiredly, dragging herself along the wall back to the couch.
She collapsed onto slightly flattened cushions in relief, adjusting her aching appendage carefully before pulling the blanket up to her chest. Half-asleep by the time her head was lowered, she looked up towards the clock, and was amazed to see both hands on the 12.
"Time flies when your cleaning house..." she murmured to herself, closing her eyes and falling into a blank sleep.
A scratching at the door roused Faith from her peaceful, dead to the world, slumber. Disoriented, she sat up and frantically searched her surroundings until a lance of pain from her aggravated hip brought her crashing back to reality.
One quick glance at the clock revealed it was 3:30. The lock in the door unlatched with a click, and a gush of cold air rushed in, blowing stray wisps of hair from her face when she turned. Just as suddenly it closed. The figure who had opened the door stumbled towards her.
"Hwoarang?"
"Yeah... Sorry I'm late..."
Faith narrowed her eyes. His speech was slurred and he couldn't walk straight from what she could see of the stumbling silhouette.
A plastic package hit her in the face before she could think anymore. Shaking her head, she glared at at the drunken man. He had begun laughing so hard he lost his already unstable balance, falling to the floor and continuing to chuckle stupidly with his face in the carpet.
"Underwear?" She asked, inspecting the bundle in her hands. "And... How the hell did you know my size?"
She jumped when he spoke from right above her, leaning over the back of the couch. He had moved so quickly from being face-down on the floor to over her makeshift bed it was startling.
"I've seen plenty of women's panties. I just know." He paused with a crookedly cocky smirk. "And I thought you might need some clean ones for tomorrow. You women are so picky about that. It's not like you're pissing in 'em, so why do they need daily changing?"
"You're disgusting, you know that? I'm not going to dignify that with an answer. I'm just going to pretend you didn't say anything and go to bed. Goodnight."
Dropping the pack of panties on the floor, she lay back down and closed her eyes, refusing to speak to him any more than was necessary while he was drunk.
"Thanks though."
She heard him snicker before a weight slammed into her, the left side of her body taking most the impact. A quick prayer of thanks raced through her head that her right side was on the outer edge of the couch, because Hwoarang had rolled over the back of the furniture and landed on top of her.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
"I'm goin' to sleep too..." he muttered, pulling himself up to settle his head beneath her collarbone. "You're a great pillow..."
Her whole body stiff with shock, Faith didn't know how to react. She was tempted to simply roll over and dump him off, but she would hurt herself in the process. His soft snores reached her ears, and any thought of waking him, purposely or not left, fled her mind when she looked down at him.
He was already fast asleep, his head resting on her chest, rising and falling with each breath she took. Without the defensive look he always wore, he seemed almost... gentle.
'Snap out of it, Faith! What are you thinking?! He's a complete stranger! A street thug, not a 'gentle' person! Everyone looks like that when they sleep! Just smell him! That tells you everything you need to know about his lifestyle!' Her inner voice of propriety chastised, high up on a soapbox.
She didn't have to try to sniff him to catch the scent. He reeked of alcohol. Even with his breath blowing away from her, the fumes were strong enough to be choking.
Closing her eyes, she tried to ignore the intimacy of his closeness and the overpowering smell of booze. But he was so thoroughly spread over her, it was like trying to ignore a person with their clothing set aflame. She shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position, but he tightened his grip around her waist, anchoring her beneath him.
With a resigned sigh she relaxed, accepting the fact she wouldn't be moving much, if at all, for the rest of the night. The last thought to cross her mind was that the kitchen light was still on, and was the only reason she'd been able to see that it was Hwoarang who had entered the apartment and not some stranger. Well, some other stranger.
Hwoarang could feel the pounding in his brain before he was even fully conscious. It was steady with his heartbeat, each thump building onto the pain welling inside his head. He could feel his stomach twisting uncomfortably, and the urge to throw up where he lay hit so hard he almost couldn't stop himself.
Without warning his pillow moved, and he could feel it shifting all the down his body. He suddenly realized that the pillow beneath him was generating heat, and had the curves of a woman.
Opening his eyes, his suspicions were confirmed when he saw his head was resting on the chest of someone who was definitely of the female persuasion, even though his vision was unusually bleary.
'... Oh shit...'
He groaned, pushing himself up without waking her. Relief coursed through him when he saw they were both fully clothed. The relief didn't last long.
'Bathroom...' was his dominant thought, tasting vomit in the back of his throat.
Staggering across the room, he barely had time to get to the toilet before his stomach emptied itself of everything he'd eaten the previous night.
'Why the hell? I haven't puked because of drinking since I first started, so why now? It's not like I drank more than I usually do.'
Mind blanking as his stomach starting seizing again, Hwoarang was surprised when he looked up from the toilet bowl to see Faith sitting on the tub edge, watching him with a worried expression.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah...Why would you think I wasn't?" The sound of his own voice startled him. He didn't sound like himself at all.
"You mean besides the fact that you're violently puking? Your flushed and your whole body is trembling. Should I call the doctor? The one you call 'Gramps'?"
He shook his head, fighting another wave of nausea as he tried to stand. Starting to worry at his inability to control his own body when his legs wouldn't cooperate, he slumped against the wall where he had fallen. The sound of the toilet rinsing away last night's dinner registered in the back of his mind, but the feeling of something wet dabbing at the corners of his mouth wasn't expected
Faith had soaked the corner of her overlarge t-shirt in the sink and started to wipe the flecks of vomit from his lips and chin. She giggled softly when he jumped at her touch, but was sincerely concerned. His eyes looked glassy, and when she touched her wrist to his forehead her suspicions were confirmed.
"You've got a fever, Hwoarang... Hwoarang?"
"Hm?..." He managed to voice before starting to cough.
"You need to get to bed, not fall asleep in the bathroom. I'll help you as much as I can."
She cursed her leg as she pulled his at his arm to get him up.
"Wait... I gotta brush my teeth first..."
Faith stood with him while he brushed the vile taste from his mouth before they both stumbled around the corner to the bedroom. With a grunt, he dropped onto the bed, crawling beneath the disheveled sheets and mumbling a thank you to his new caretaker.
"Are you sure I shouldn't call the doctor?" she asked, pausing at the door.
No response save for a muffled cough.
"I know you can hear me, and if you don't answer I'm going to call the ambulance. How would you like that instead?"
She smiled when she heard him groan into the pillow.
"No doctor, no ambulance. I told you I'm fine... Do you hear me?..."
Turning his head, he saw an empty threshold.
'Asks me something and doesn't even stick around to hear the answer,' he grumbled, cursing under his breath and turning his back on the spot where Faith had vanished.
A light weight settled across his body, nearly making him jump out of his skin.
"Don't panic, it's just your blanket."
He turned to glare at Faith, who simply rolled her eyes and sat down next to him. She reached out her arm to rest her wrist against his forehead again, but he tried to bat it away.
"Knock it off. I think you've caught the flu, not to mention having a hangover, and I need to know if you should take a cold bath to help bring it down."
"I told you I'm fine. And why do you care if I'm sick or not? You're acting like I need to be tended to, and you didn't even want to stay here yesterday."
"Need I remind you, you're the one who insisted I stay? And I care because I'm used to looking after someone, so just amuse me, okay?"
"... Fine."
Looking away to give her time to compose herself if necessary, he'd heard more than a touch of sadness when she'd spoken, Hwoarang stared at the wall. He tried to process what she'd said, but his headache had worsened and he couldn't concentrate.
Faith, seeing him spacing out, patted his shoulder, figuring she'd at least find out if he had the flu or something else.
"I need to ask you a few things."
"Hm?"
"Do you feel cold? Even though you have a fever?"
"...Yeah."
"And you have a really bad headache? Although that might be from your hangover..."
"Definitely."
"Do you feel fatigued?"
"Yeah... You sound like a doctor."
"I've spent a lot of time around them in the hospital... But that's not the point. You have all the symptoms of the flu."
"Let's throw a fucking party!" Hwoarang exclaimed irritably.
"I suppose I can forgive you for your dirty fucking mouth since you're sick."
The red head smirked and poked her leg, unable to harass her any more. He turned on his side, facing her, and pulled the blanket up around him to ward off the chills he felt coming and coughed.
"You're such a smartass, woman."
"I know. Oh. Do you have Scar's phone number?"
"Why would you need to know that?"
"I need him to go get some stuff for me."
"Should be in my address book right here on the table..."
"You're not the type of person I'd expect to have an address book..." Faith said, watching him rifle through a collection of small slips of paper he'd grabbed from a small black book.
"Here."
"Thanks... Now get some rest, flame head."
"Don't worry, I will. Goodnight, gimp."
Cuffing his heated cheek gently before leaving, she shut the door behind her and made a slightly staggered beeline for the phone.
'I hope he doesn't mind me calling...' she thought, picking it up and dialing.
The sound of voices in the living room filtered through the cracks in the door, stirring Hwoarang from his fevered rest.
He had kicked the blanket off while he was asleep, but even the thin sheets suddenly seemed sweltering. Pushing them off, he lay staring at the ceiling, when it actually dawned on him that there was someone else in his apartment besides Faith. Bolting up, wincing when his headache came back full force, he hurried to the door and flung it open.
Faith and Scar, sitting on the couch talking quietly, looked up when they heard the door fly open.
"Is everything alright? You look upset."
"Yeah, everything is fine," he replied, reaching up to rub the back of his neck and thinking that he must look like an idiot standing there. "Hey, Scar. Are you sure you should be here? The flu's contagious."
"Too late now, I'm already exposed. Really should be going though. I take it you're not going out tonight?"
"Uh, yeah. I'd be in the bar making an idiot of myself. I already have a headache worse than a hangover, why add to it?"
"That's the most intelligent thing he's said all day..."
Hwoarang turned his head to glare at Faith, who happened to be conveniently staring at the ceiling with an innocent expression.
"I'll be leaving now before this escalates. See ya around." Scar said, inwardly chuckling.
'They definitely won't be bored around each other.'
Smiling to himself, the older man shut the door behind him, leaving the two to their inevitable 'debate'.
I finally finished it!
A special sidenote to Librarose (I don't usually do these): I almost fell out of my chair when I saw I'd gotten 4 new reviews! I'm glad you like Faith, she just kinda popped into my head one day.