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CW: Vomiting/ emetophobia.
Grendel never overdid it. He had everything under control in his body, a blessing of being a Warframe. He’d never been sick before in his metal life. Not once.
And he wasn’t about to be sick now, no matter how hard he had to fight it.
He’d started the day feeling…fine. Not great but could easily be attributed to sleepiness. Their human captain, the headstrong Warhead, had paid it no mind (though Grendel himself had dismissed his malaise when she asked), and she knew much more about diseases than any of the Warframes, so Grendel hadn’t worried either.
A quick mission to an infested Grineer station had tested that a bit. The Grineer were already hard to digest--something about them always tasted wrong-- and adding Infested on top of that was probably asking for trouble. They had extracted the moment Stalker had returned with the goods, and Grendel probably left with a few Infested and Grineer still in his gut. He was regretting not making sure they'd been evicted, now.
“I’m just saying, bows are cool but they require so much more precision and upper body strength and it’s harder to aim than a gun. I just don’t see how it’s viable for combat.” Gauss’ voice echoed in Grendel’s ears, obscured and muffled as though Grendel were hearing him through water.
“It’s actually easier to aim because the recoil is so different and you use more muscles. You can’t spray and pray with a bow.”
Stalker returned. He and Gauss often shot the shit, especially after missions like this. On a good day, Grendel found it hard to keep up with them.
"Sometimes you gotta just pull the trigger and hope for the best though!”
"I think you’re just uncultured.”
Gauss was naturally faster than his lover, and with Stalker keeping pace they were a good six feet away from Grendel when he finally stopped, letting out a pained whimper. Gauss looked back, stopping mid sentence. “Grendel?”
Grendel couldn’t even manage words, he just shook his head and held his stomach, using every ounce of energy to try and not throw up.
“Hey Big Guy, you ok?” Gauss came back, wrapping an arm around Grendel’s shoulder. “Honey, you look awful, wanna detour to the infirmary?”
Grendel chanced a whimper that could have meant yes or no . Bad idea. His arm shot out to shove Gauss to the side, and Stalker swore in four different languages as Grendel heaved and threw up on the floor.
Gauss came back, his hands on Grendel’s back as the man loosed whatever had been in his stomach onto the freshly cleaned floor of the ship. He panted, hoping the onslaught was over, but when he tried to speak, he retched again, unable to stop his stomach from revolting and barfing up its contents. In spite of his very nature, he mentally cursed his creator for giving him a mouth.
Finally, Grendel swallowed and was able to bring his insides somewhat under control again, enough to mutter “I’m so sorry…”
“No, no, baby. Don’t be…” Gauss looked past briefly at the mess of toxic vomit covering half the floor. “...Stalker, can you grab me a mop? I’ll be back to clean it after I help Grendel into bed-”
“No, I can do it.” Stalker sighed.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. Get the big man cleaned up and into bed. Might wanna swing by the infirmary anyway, check it’s not something serious.”
Gauss nodded in thanks and took Grendel by the arm, leading him back to their shared quarters.
“Ordis will be mad…” Grendel whimpered.
“Ordis can fuck off.” He used one hand to rub Grendel’s back and pressed the other to his stomach. “You couldn’t help that, I could see you fighting it.”
Indeed, just like he was still fighting it now. He was starting to get chills, which made it hard to keep from throwing up when he was shaking so hard he could barely walk.
Gauss finally got him to their bedroom and led him to the shower, made extra large because Warhead knew Grendel needed the extra room. Gauss put down the shower seat and helped Grendel onto it, turning on the water from the bath faucet first before switching to the shower head.
Grendel felt his stomach churn again and whimpered “Gauss, I’m sick…”
Gauss, like a trained professional, jumped into action, helping Grendel stand up and lean over before his belly mouth opened again and he gagged, emptying the remaining contents onto the shower floor. At least this time, the vomit was washed away quickly by the warm water. Grendel prayed it wouldn’t clog the pipes.
It took a while, an eternity for the poor sick man, but eventually Grendel’s gagging didn’t produce anything else. Gauss lowered him back onto the seat, where even in the hot water he was trembling like a Hyekka in a snowstorm. A bit of soap (unscented) removed the bits of toxic puke from poor Grendel’s chassis, and finally when all was done, Gauss shut off the water and immediately wrapped Grendel in an extra large, fluffy towel and helped him out, leading him to their bed.
The man was still a bit nauseous, but mostly he was exhausted, and he made no protest when crawling into bed with Gauss’ help. His only bits of complaint were when he sniffled and murmured “Do you think Ordis will hate me?”
“If he does, I’ll deck him in his square head.” Gauss said as he pulled up the covers around his lover, tucking him in snugly. “Like I said, you were sick. You’re really sick now and he shouldn’t hold that against you.” he leaned in and nuzzled his forehead to Grendel’s, the quintessential “Warframe kiss.” “You still look like shit. Get some sleep, I’ll deal with Ordis if he comes knocking.”
Grendel complied, but only after insisting that Gauss get into bed with him. He felt nauseous and hot and achy and he just wanted to be held by his lover. Only when Gauss complied, wrapping his arms around Grendel’s stomach, did the sick man fall asleep.
If Ordis came by while he was out, Grendel didn’t hear him. He slept like a log, dreaming of a calm, misty abyss only occasionally broken by the noise of his angry stomach. He finally awoke when he felt the bed dip and looked up to see Warhead, a sympathetic smile on her face and her white hair pulled back.
“Hey Gren.” Her voice was soft and calming, and she crooned like she was talking to a child. She ran a hand over his forehead, probably checking if he had a fever. “How’re you holding up?”
Grendel whimpered again, not holding back vomit this time but just…it was the only thing he could manage under the cover of sleep. “I threw up on the floor.”
“I heard.” She didn’t specify how she heard. Must have been Ordis throwing a fit about it…
“Is Ordis mad?”
“He…? Oh, no Grendel, he’s not mad.” She pressed her hand to his cheek. “A bit annoyed, but he doesn’t blame you. Not in the least. If anything he’s mad at the roombas for not being able to suck up the vomit without smearing it everywhere.”
Grendel managed a chuckle. It sent a shooting pain up his stomach, and he groaned. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t gone on that mission, I wouldn’t be sick right now.”
“Hey. I’d be lying if I said I never pushed myself beyond my limit.” Warhead assured him. “We know now. For next time. And do tell me if you feel sick next time, ok?”
Grendel nodded. He still felt Gauss behind him and at that moment, his lover stirred. “Oh…hi Warhead.”
“Hey Gauss, just checking on our patient.” Warhead chirped. “By the way, Cy thinks it’s a tossup between food poisoning and a Helminth strain we just don't know about . If it’s food poisoning, some antibiotics and just waiting should do the trick.”
“Then we’ll see?”
“Then we’ll see.” She stood. “Ironically you have to take the antibiotics with food or it’ll make you more nauseous.”
Usually, Grendel was an absolute sucker for human food, a total foodie with a surprisingly refined palette. But right now the thought of eating made him panic. “What if I throw up?” He moaned. “I’ll throw up on the bed or carpet and…and…”
“Then we’ll clean it.” Gauss pressed his forehead to Grendel’s again. “I’ll help you get to the shower if you feel sick. Even if you throw up on the carpet, I’ll clean it for you.”
Grendel took a breath, and Warhead patted his cheek. “We’re here to take care of you.” She said softly. “I’ll make you something light, that hopefully won’t upset your stomach. How’s some toast sound?”
“N…no butter…” The oil would make his stomach worse. But the bread was probably a safe bet. “Thank you, Warhead…”
As she left, Gauss wrapped his arms around Grendel and rubbed his sides, soothing him. “I’m here, honey.”
“I love you.” Grendel moaned, his voice so small for a man so big. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
“Always, honey. I always will.”