Chapter Text
The entire ordeal took about two hours between the appointment and the pharmacy. The doctor had been waiting for them when they had arrived. This was partially thanks to Wallace calling ahead and partially due to it being Steven. Something about always making time for the Champion. The pair was a bit apprehensive when a doctor they had never met took them back. Steven was clearly less comfortable than Wallace during the examinations. Wallace knew what the doctor was going to ask before she did. He had been through this too many times to count given that he was on a first-name basis with most of the staff there. She seemed to be good at her job though. In the end, Steven had been scolded for not coming sooner, much to Wallace’s amusement, and been diagnosed with pneumonia, less to his amusement. He, on the other hand, got off much easier with the stomach flu. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised by that. The last contest he was at several people had been sick, but he had done his best to avoid being around them. The new doctor had expressed concern about the fluid building around Steven’s lungs but ultimately decided he didn’t need to go to the emergency room just yet. If he continued to get worse over the next few days then they would need to go. The clinic was next door to the pharmacy. They both ended up with prescriptions. Steven had been given antibiotics and told to continue taking Tylenol to help with the fever. Wallace was sent home with nausea medicine and a sympathetic look. They said there wasn’t much that they could give him that would be effective and that he needed to do his best to stay hydrated. They had concluded that he was running a low-grade fever and advised Tylenol if he could keep it down. They didn’t say much on the walk there and even less on the walk back. The silence on the way had been a comfortable one. A silence they had grown used to when neither had much to say. The way home, however, was a much more strained silence. Steven’s ragged breathing had developed into a whistling wheeze that worried Wallace. Wallace though was focusing on breathing through the horrid nausea and trying his best to just make it back home. He had his left hand tucked inside his hoodie pocket pressing against his stomach and his right intertwined with Steven’s. They were halfway home before Steven broke the tense silence.
“Are you feeling alright?” Steven glanced to the side and quickly assessed this situation. The color had long since drained from Wallace’s face and he had been chewing on his lip nervously for ten minutes now. He started dragging Wallace over to a park bench and glanced around. The park was empty. It was too cold for anyone to be out and it was the middle of the week. He practically pulled him down to the bench. “Breathe.” He calmly instructed while brushing Wallace’s hair from his face.
“Not gonna make it home…” Wallace mumbled, pulling away from Steven and letting his head fall between his knees. The pressure from leaning over squeezed uncomfortably at his bloated stomach.
“I figured.” Steven confirmed sympathetically “It’s okay. We are alone.”
That seemed to be all the invitation needed for his stomach because in the next moment Wallace was gagging, bringing nothing up. This didn’t seem to be acceptable, however, as the muscles in his stomach spasmed before clenching harder, determined to empty his stomach. Again though nothing happened and his muscles contracted even tighter, if that was possible. This time Wallace began vomiting. The horrible taste of bile burned his throat. His body still wasn’t satisfied and he choked out another mouthful of bile, the taste making him gag again. He was barely aware of Steven caressing his back and talking to him softly. His stomach gave one last heave before relenting. As the nausea swiftly retreated back to a manageable level the soreness in his abdomen took its place. He remained still, afraid moving would make him ill again, and took shuttering breaths. The world around him slowly came back into existence.
“You okay now?”
Wallace stayed silent. The real answer was no and logically he knew he was past the point of worrying Steven. Despite this knowledge, he still nodded his head once and stood on shaky legs “Let’s just get home.”
Steven was on his feet right behind Wallace. His eyes never strayed far, focused and looking for any sign that something was amiss. He did his best to push through his own set of symptoms in order to help Wallace. He felt completely drained and dizzy. The sky was beginning to darken with ominous grey clouds that promised snow. He could feel the temperature dropping, secretly thinking it felt good against his burning skin, and worried about Wallace being out in the worsening weather. Thankfully though the last half of the walk was uneventful. Luck seemed to be on their side too. The first icy gusts accompanied by fluffy snowflakes started just as they arrived home. Steven took some comfort knowing that this type of weather wouldn’t last long. It never did thanks to the warmer climate in Hoenn. He doubted the snow would even stick. Once the pair was inside, they both shed their outer layers of clothes and their shoes. Wallace wasted no time getting comfortable on the couch. Steven didn’t mind. He knew Wallace was feeling just as miserable as he was right now. Pushing through the fatigue he opted to start a pot of tea and gather things Wallace would probably want. He allowed a glance at the clock on the wall as he went into the bedroom. It was a little after eleven. Mentally he knew that they made good time, but the absolute exhaustion he was feeling contradicted the logic. He pulled the softer blanket from Wallace’s side of the bed and one of his pillows before turning to leave. He stopped and thought for a moment before discarding the items back on the bed. Going into the bathroom Steven caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked awful. His skin was pale, ashen almost, and his eyes were almost as red as his nose. He pushed the thought aside, not wanting to be selfish, and put himself over Wallace right now, and took the thermometer from the cabinet. He tucked it into his pocket along with the Tylenol before taking the small trash can by the sink in his arms. Once satisfied he had everything, Steven gathered the pillow and blanket back into his arms and returned to the other room. Wallace was already curled up with his knees pulled tightly to his chest and one arm snaked around his stomach. Steven took note that he was shivering despite the house being warm. Careful not to move Wallace too much, Steven tucked the pillow under his head and draped the blanket over him. Next was the tea. He was making it more for Wallace but opted to pour some for himself as well. It did help his throat before after all. He wordlessly placed the mug on the table and made himself comfortable in the chair. Suppressing a shutter at the minty taste. He would much rather have coffee.
“Thank you,” Wallace mumbled wearily “but you really shouldn’t push yourself.”
“I will be fine. If you want some of your medicine you should take it now while your stomach isn’t too bad.” Steven advised while reading the instructions on his own medicine bottle. He needed to take one tablet every six hours with food. Simple enough. He was somewhat familiar with this antibiotic because Wallace had taken it once before. He entertained the idea that maybe, just maybe, he was getting too used to all of this.
“Probably not a bad idea…” Wallace reluctantly pushed himself up and uncapped the white bottle. He didn’t fancy the idea of putting anything in his stomach, but if it helped him feel better, he was willing to try. The worst-case scenario is he just throws up again, but he’s going to do that anyway if he doesn’t try. He took a sip of tea and swallowed the medicine with a grimace. His stomach immediately grumbled angrily and a new wave of pain took root. He concluded that there was no way he would be able to travel in his current state much less host a contest. He sighed and took his phone from the table. He sent the appropriate texts before flopping down on the couch and closing his eyes. Maybe if he just slept a bit he would feel better. As he drifted away into the warm darkness of sleep he briefly thought that perhaps he should tie his hair back. It was going to be a tangled mess if he didn’t. Deciding that he could deal with that problem later he drifted off into a restless sleep.
Steven envied Wallace a little at that moment. He wanted nothing more than to sleep himself, but his cough had been aggravated by the cold. Perhaps once the tea soothed his throat, he would be able to rest. He knew that he should start taking the medicine as soon as possible, but the idea of moving was unappealing. He debated on taking the medicine without food. He wasn’t entirely sure if that was a bad idea or not. If Wallace were still awake then he could ask him. He choked as a new fit of coughing started and he gasped for air. It hurt, Arceus, it hurt. Each cough rattled his chest and tore at his throat. He stole a worried glance at the still sleeping form on the couch. Thankfully, he hadn’t woken Wallace. He rested his head back against the chair and closed his eyes. Maybe if he stayed still and cleared his mind he would actually sleep. This hope was ruined ten minutes later with a new coughing fit. He was convinced at this point that his body was conspiring against him. Deciding that it would be better to let Wallace sleep without the risk of disturbance, Steven quickly swallowed his medicine with a wince and disappeared into the bedroom. He eyed the bottle of Nyquil still on the nightstand. Maybe if his cough stopped long enough then he could sleep. Deciding to only take half of a dose, Steven buried himself in the blankets and made himself comfortable. At first, he thought perhaps the medicine wasn’t working, but gradually his cough began to subside and he drifted off to sleep.
The next time Steven woke it was nearly dark out. He rubbed at his eyes and let them adjust to the last of the golden light trickling in through the window. The house was eerily quiet despite Wallace being home. He bolted upright, clutching his head when the sudden movement brought on a new wave of dizziness. He needed to check on Wallace. He forced himself up, his body protesting, and peeked out the door. Relief flooded over him when he found Wallace propped up reading his book. He allowed a small sigh and went to sit next on the other end of the couch. “Glad you see you’re awake.”
“Sorry. I guess I was more tired than I thought.” Wallace admitted.
“You had a rough night and morning. It’s understandable. Is there anything you need?” Steven asked. He took note that Wallace looked overall better.
“I’m okay. I had some crackers earlier while you were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you up. You seemed to finally be resting.”
Instead of giving a response, Steven pulled Wallace closer and let him rest in his lap. He still felt sick, but Wallace was, and always would be, his main concern. He let Wallace shift around until he was comfortable and reading his book again. Satisfied he closed his eyes which were already heavy again with fatigue. Perhaps after both of them were well enough Steven would treat Wallace to a nice dinner at their favorite restaurant. He figured he could take a few more days off to recover.