Title: Home - fluff

Word count:945;

Author's Notes: prompt by carlitagt. Dinner at the Padilla's. Fetus!Ianthony, cause I really love writing them. Maybe AU? Not sure. High school Ianthony.

Anthony's hand on his thigh is the only thing keeping Ian alive right now.

The dinner started off really well. Anthony's mother made three different kinds of pizza, and since Ian was starving, he dug in, taking a slice of every pizza and eating away cheerfully. Anthony was beaming at him and his parents throughout the whole meal, smiling and telling his mother about Ian's accomplishments. Ian was thankful for that since he was quite occupied with enjoying the delicious food.

However, about 40 minutes into dinner, his stomach started revolting. He stopped eating at once, putting down the last bite of his peperoni pizza on the plate and massaging his belly slightly, unnoticed by everyone. A few minutes later Anthony put his hand on Ian's thigh, squeezing it gently and lovingly.

It's the only thing Ian can concentrate on. He tries to sit still, although a weird kind of sickness starts rising in him. He burps silently, putting a hand in front of his mouth. Nobody has noticed, though, because Anthony's parents are talking about their trip to Italy last year. More food talk. Great.

Pizza. Spaghetti. Antipasti. Ice cream. Back to pizza. Crabs. Lobster. And pizza again.

Ian cannot hold the nausea in any longer. He stands up, a bit too abruptly, making everyone jump slightly, and excuses himself to the bathroom. He forces himself not to break into a run, instead, he walks quickly into the direction of the guest restroom. Once inside, he empties his stomach into the toilet bowl. Retching and gagging sounds fill the small room, and it doesn't look like it's about to stop any time soon.

He is kneeling in front the bowl, his chin resting on the rim, enjoying the coolness. He's pretty sure that Anthony's mother is a pro at cleaning, since a heavy cleaning agents odor lies in the air. He groans in pain, feeling that he is about to vomit once again. He's not sure how long he's been locked in here, it must have been a while, though, because suddenly he hears a gentle knock at the door.

"Ian? Are you okay?"

Oh, God. Anthony. His mother. The food. Oh, God. First impressions matter. Always. Not matter what anyone else says. Oh, God. The pizza. It was so tasty. Oh, God. Better not to think about food again. Ian dry-heaves.

"Ian! Please let me in!"

"It's open.", Ian croaks in response and watches Anthony enter the room, a shocked and worried expression on his face.

"What happened?"

"I don't know." Whiny voice. "I really liked the pizza. Don't tell your mother, please, Anthony. I really enjoyed dinner. Your parents are so nice." A strange feeling rising again. Ian leans over the bowl once again. Retching sound. Nothing comes out.

"I'm so sorry, Ian.", Anthony says while holding Ian's hair back, rubbing his back softly.

"No, I'm sorry. I have ruined dinner."

Anthony takes a clean glass which stands next to the sink and fills it with ice cold water.

"Here. Drink. It'll help."

Ian whispers a "Thank you." and chugs the water.

"Better?"

"I'm not sure."

Maybe it's the sickness. Maybe it's Anthony's way of worrying and taking care of him. Ian's dwelling up, his eyes watering, his vision becoming blurry. He crawls away from the bowl, leaning against the bathroom wall. Wanting to hide his tears, he bents his legs, rests his arms on his knees and lets his head fall into the space between his knees and chest.

"I'm really sorry, Anthony. I'm fucking everything up. I wanted to make a good first impression. I'm sorry-"

"Ian, stop it. It's not your fault! I'm not mad and neither are my parents. So, stop with the guilt, okay?"

He comes closer, sitting down next to his boyfriend, slinging an arm around him and pulling him closer. They stay like this for a while, and Ian slowly loses the urge to vomit again. His stomach seems to have calmed down. He leans more into Anthony's embrace, enjoying their closeness. Anthony combs gently through Ian's long hair, his other hand entangled with Ian's, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles.

"I think I'm better.", Ian mutters.

"I'm glad." Anthony places a kiss on Ian's forehead. "Nope. Taking that back. You are not better. You are burning up."

"What?" Ian looks up at his boyfriend curiously.

"Yes, you are definitely hot." He confirms his prior statement by laying his palm on Ian's forehead. "I am taking you home. You have a fever. You've been throwing up. You are not just having food poisoning. This is something else."

"But, nobody is home...", Ian exclaims, terrified, his voice suddenly ringing with panic. He is immediately interrupted by Anthony, though.

"Then you're staying here. I'll talk to my parents. It's gonna be fine."

Ian's scared face changes back to normal and he nods, hiding a small smile. He doesn't resist when Anthony helps him up, leads him to his bedroom, gives him his favorite hoodie and orders him to lie down. Just in case, he puts a trash can near the bed.

"I'll be right back. I'm gonna make you a cup of tea."

"Okay."

"Good." Another gentle kiss, this time on Ian's lips. "Rest now." And with that Anthony leaves the room.

Ian pulls the hood of Anthony's sweater over his head and snuggles up into Anthony's blanket. He is surrounded by Anthony's sweet scent. Emotions overwhelm him, a feeling of safety and love warms his heart. He closes his eyes, a content smile on his lips. For the first time in what feels like forever, he feels safe and loved. He feels home.

Anthony is home.