Work Text:
Tar<3
just finished my shift, do you want to come over and watch a movie?
i saw the worst ad ever and now i need to see the movie desperately
Grian’s vision was blurry, which was actually the best part of the whole thing. Between his head feeling like a pincushion from the inside out, and the nausea that crept up his throat- his vision being a bit off was almost pleasant in comparison.
His phone screen lighting up with texts was blinding in the near pitch dark of his apartment. He’d drawn the shades, shut off all the lights, and had been doing his best to not be a bitch about something as stupid as a migraine.
Because after everything he’d been through a headache couldn’t possible hurt the most.
But migraines had always been the worst of Grian’s admittedly bizarre medical mysteries. Even the pain in his legs he could get around (thanks to Scar, who had introduced him to the wonders of heated blankets that could wrap all the way around his shins and knees instead of heating up a singular spot like heating pads did). Migraines, though? They completely took him out of commission. He couldn’t do anything while his eyes tried to liquefy out of their sockets and his stomach tried to empty itself even though he hadn’t even eaten anything in the last few hours since he’d felt the first prick behind his eyes. Which he had optimistically (and that was the last time he’d be optimistic about anything) brushed aside as a normal headache that would be more annoying than painful.
Maybe the nausea was worse than it would have been if he’d just remembered to eat that day. Grian was no stranger to forgetting to eat- it had gotten to the point that his impulse on feeling his stomach turn was to get some crackers or an apple, since hunger was so often the cause of it.
Taurtis thought it was concerning as much as it was endearing that Grian kept an emergency bag of fruit snacks on his person for that very reason.
Unfortunately if he wanted to eat something (and he really should, he’d hardly eaten all day, and if he could get the nausea down he could push through the rest just fine) he had to get up. This presented a few problems:
1. Grian did not want to get up.
2. He wasn’t sure he could get up, not when all his limbs felt hot and cold and like they would fall off.
(And seriously, what the fuck, limbs? Wasn’t it bad enough his brain wanted to implode? Did his legs really need to join in like children upset they weren’t being included? Did his hands really need to have trouble keeping a grip? Couldn’t they just make Grian’s life easier this once?)
3. Grian had ran out of all his easy snacks. No fruit snacks or crackers. Not even an apple since he’d eaten his last one the night before, when he’d put off dinner and eaten the apple intead.
So Grian would need to get up out of bed, drag himself to his kitchen, and actually make something if he wanted the nausea to go away. Which he did. Like, very badly.
He kept his eyes screwed shut as he settled his weight on his feet, feeling all too much like a baby lamb as he shuffled forward, one arm out to bump into his door before he could run into it. He pushed it open and walked the short distance to his kitchen, only daring to squint his eyes open when he opened his cupboard to find what he could make.
Pasta. Yeah, that would be easy.
He wouldn’t bother with sauce, but pasta was basically wet crackers, so that was probably good to settle his stomach.
When the pasta was done and he’d drained as much of the water as he could without using a colander, he took the small pot with him back to his room.
Spotting his phone on his bed reminded him of his messages, and he managed to squint at the screen for long enough to send a short text back as he shoveled fork after fork of pasta into his mouth. The sooner he ate it the sooner his nausea would die down. The sooner he’d feel even the slightest bit better.
Me
sorry i havea migraine
raincheck?
He threw his phone to the other side of his bed as the spikes behind his eyes grew in the three seconds it took to reply.
If his brain hadn’t been in the process of melting, he would’ve asked Taurtis to being him ibuprofen or something since Grian had been out for a while, and he kept forgetting to pick more up. As if was, he was more focused on breathing. He pressed the heel of his palms into his eye sockets to try and relieve even a bit of the pressure. It hurt worse, but sometimes that led to the spikes softening into something just a bit duller, so he kept his hands in place, rubbing small circles.
There was a bird making a ruckus outside his window, and on any other day Grian would’ve smiled at the calls and chitters, but he only groaned and pushed the heel of his palms into his eyes a bit harder, jerking back at the pain.
He’d set the pasta on his nightstand when he’d eaten as much as he could stomach, and that had to have been at least twenty minutes before. Yet his nausea hadn’t gone down at all.
Fuck.
Grian slowly lowered his head onto his pillow, trying to find a position that could sooth his head. Or his stomach. Or his legs, which were beginning to ache in an all too familiar way. Nothing worked.
Fuck.
His stomach lurched. Grian would never eat while nauseous again. He’d set a timer on his phone to remind himself to eat, because this was awful, and it did nothing to help the pounding in his skull. In fact, it probably made it worse, or something, because Grian was beginning to think a drill in his skull might alleviate the pressure rather well
Or it would kill him.
Either way, the pain would stop.
He stumbled out of bed and threw on the first sweater he could reach, his body flipping between freezing and hot. He’d rather feel too warm than the chill that had been seeping into his skin, though.
When his stomach lurched again he found himself on the tile of his bathroom, trying to keep his meal down while keeping himself from slamming his head into the wall just in case it might help. He really thought it might help. At the rate it was going, a concussion might be his best bet—
He scrambled forward, losing the fight with his stomach just as his front door opened.
Void, he didn’t even fucking care. If he was going to be robbed while retching into his toilet, than so be it. It would be the perfect ending to a perfect day-
“Hey, Gri.”
Taurtis’ voice was soft and pitying. Usually this would make Grian foam at the mouth, hating the way people’s voices twisted with pity until all Grian could think of was how pathetic he was.
Right then, though? Yeah, Grian was feeling pretty pathetic, so he let the pity slide.
A plastic bag was set on the floor, tell-tall crinkling telling Grian his boyfriend must’ve picked up something on his way. Hopefully not take-out. He didn’t think he could stomach anything ever for the rest of his life, and he’d hate to let any food go to waste. Especially if it was Indian.
Maybe he’d eat it if it was Indian, Grian mused as the sink faucet turned on. Even if he threw it all up, it’d be worth it.
Moments later a hot washcloth was being pressed to his forehead as he finally emptied his stomach completely.
The hand Grian wasn’t using to hold himself up came to hold the washcloth in place. It was hot enough it should have hurt, should have burnt too hot against his skin, instead it felt perfect against his eyes.
Taurtis let go of the washcloth and soon there was a water bottle at Grian’s lips. He turned away from it. He didn’t think he could drink anything then, his mouth all acidic and gross.
“Rinse your mouth, babe, you’ll feel better.”
Oh. Yeah, he could do that.
When he leaned back into Taurtis’ hold, his boyfriend wrapped an arm around his waist as he rooted through his plastic bag again, pulling out what Grian would guess was a pill bottle based on the sound. Damn, no Indian food.
“I’ve got tylenol, ibuprofen, and caffeine pills? Google said that could help, so I also brought an iced coffee.”
Grian reached for the pill bottle and squinted at it. Ibuprofen.
“’Love you.” Grian murmured as he twisted the lid off and tipped four pills into his hand. He threw them back and held his hand out for the water bottle from earlier, washing them down.
Taurtis laughed lightly from behind him as he twisted another bottle open, dropping another pill into Grian’s hand. He took it. It must be the caffeine pill since it wasn’t the size of tylenol.
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get you into bed.”
He let Taurtis help him up and lead him back to his room, waiting for Grian to crawl into his bed before he left with a promise he’d be right back.
Grian drifted in his pain while he waited for Taurtis.
In the movies this is when Grian would suddenly begin to feel better, now that his boyfriend was there to take care of him. Instead, the sound of him bustling about Grian’s apartment (even through his attempts to be quiet) sent fresh spikes behind his eyes.
Or maybe that was the washcloth, now cool against his skin. He wearily reached up and took it off, letting it’s dampness sink into his sheets as he rested his arm across his face, hoping the pressure and vague warmth would seep into his eyes and finally make some of the pain fade. At least his stomach felt a bit better.
Fuck, he was a mess. How had Taurtis known Grian needed him?
The door to Grian’s room opened maybe fifteen minutes later, maybe fifteen seconds later, and Taurtis was pulling his arm of and replacing it with one of Grian’s old heating pads. It wasn’t hot yet, but he heard Taurtis plug it in and turn it on, and soon he was using both hands to press it into his eyes with a sigh.
By the time the ibuprofen started to kick in, Taurtis had slid in next to Grian, hands at either side of his temple, rubbing circles into his skin like Grian had earlier. This time, though, it worked. Because of course it only worked when it was Taurtis.
He leaned further into his boyfriend, shaking his hands away to settle his face into Taurtis’ neck instead, letting himself drift through the pain, even as it slowly subsided, leaving him far more tired than he should be at what must’ve been no later than eight at night.
“Any better?” Taurtis’ voice was intentionally quiet when he spoke.
“Hmm.” Grian hummed, jerking his head in a slight nod that would’ve sent his head spinning an hour before. The pain was better, but still there. More dull than sharp, and there were a few seconds between each jab at his skull, something Grian revelled in as he could finally feel his breath evening out into normalcy.
The heating pad must’ve been near burning against Taurtis’ skin, but the other hadn’t moved, letting Grian make himself as comfortable as he could be.
As Grian felt himself begin to drift off, he pressed a chaste kiss to Taurtis’ shoulder. With a soft, “Thanks, Tar,” he let himself fall asleep, knowing he’d wake up in the morning with a clear head and the love of his life in his arms.