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Kobra Kid flinched at the light that seeped into the room as Jet Star sneaked in, burying his face into his pillow.
"Sorry, sugar," Jet murmured as he slid to Kobra's side. Kobra sighed as Jet began kneading his shoulders and neck. "Think you can roll over and sit up for me? I brought some meds that should help."
"Hm-mm I don' wan' it," Kobra groaned.
Jet sighed. "Kobra-"
"Don't want any of that City shit," he cut Jet off.
"Okay," Jet relented. "Alright. You know I won't make you if you don't want it."
"Can't trust it," Kobra mumbled.
Jet pushed his hand up into his hair, massaging the back of his head. "I know, babe. Not sayin' you gotta, not tryin'a push, but…I think we can trust what Cy gives us."
"Sorry."
"Shh, no. No, don't be sorry, baby. Just wish there was somethin' else I could do for ya."
"Could get me a beer," Kobra shrugged.
Jet snickered.
"Or somethin' stronger. Can't have a headache if I black out, right?"
"That's just gonna make it worse when you wake up and you know it! Have you eaten anything?"
"If you try and make me eat right now, I will throw up on you, promise, not threat."
Jet sighed. "Baby, you know not eatin' is gonna make it worse."
"Promise, not threat," Kobra said again.
"Alright," Jet relented. He sighed again as Kobra sniffled a little, stuck in that miserable in between of holding back tears hurting as much as letting the tears fall. "Breathe, sugar," he murmured, digging his thumb into Kobra's neck.
"This fuckin' sucks," Kobra croaked.
"I know it does. You'll be alright, just gotta…try to relax. I know it's hard, but holdin' all that tension's gonna make it worse."
Kobra let out a shaky breath. "You really think eating is gonna help?"
"Yeah," he nodded, "I do. They always get worse when you don't eat. Ghoul grabbed some apple sauce for Motorbaby," he offered after a beat.
"Don't slip me nothin'," Kobra told him.
Jet smirked and tousled his hair. "That doesn't sound like somethin' I'd do, does it?"
"Don't play with me, Jet Star. I've seen you slip Ghoul shit."
"I slip Ghoul shit 'cause he's an idiot who eats allergens and needs antihistamines for it. I won't do that to you, not unless we're talkin' life or death."
Kobra snorted. "Promise, not threat?"
Jet smiled. "Yeah, promise, not threat. Mostly cause I think if I let you die, Poison'd be handin' me tied with a bow directly to the Pheonix Witch," he snickered. "Skippin' the mailbox and everything. I'm not even sure he'd actually kill me. Just hand me over still breathin' and everything."
Kobra gave a small chuckle. "Yeah, they would." He let out a slow breath and sniffled. "I'll try the damn applesauce."
Jet lightly patted his back and kissed his head. "Be right back," he promised and slipped from the room.
"He take anything?" Party asked as Jet closed the door behind him.
Jet shook his head. "He agreed to some applesauce, though. Gonna get some lemon and salt water for him too, hopefully the electrolytes will help."
"Thanks for tryin'," Poison sighed, scrubbing the back of his neck.
"I'll take care of him," Jet promised, patting their arm.
—
Jet slipped back into the room just in time to find Kobra struggling to get up as he gagged violently. He bolted to Kobra's side, dropping the little bowl of applesauce and water bottle in his haste, and managed to get him upright, but wasn't quite fast enough to get the small trash can up to him before Kobra threw up.
Poison came running in at the sound of Kobra coughing hard and climbed over the bed to get to his baby brother.
"Easy, baby," Jet soothed, rubbing his back as Kobra dry heaved over the bin, tears streaming down his face, stomach already empty of what little he'd managed to eat before.
"I'll clean up in here," Poison offered. "You go get him cleaned up."
Jet nodded. "Let's get these clothes off you so we're not dragging this stuff through the place."
"Sorry," Kobra muttered and coughed again.
"Don't be," Party told him, running a hand through his hair and kissing his temple. "We just want you feelin' better, bunny. Let Jet take of ya now, alright?"
Kobra nodded and kept his eyes closed, head still throbbing as Jet carefully stripped him down to his underwear then scooped him off the bed. He whined, pressing closer to Jet as he was carried away.
"Hang on, sugar, I'll get ya taken care of," Jet promised. He set Kobra on the toilet lid and started up the shower. "Give that a second to get warmed up-"
"In a fuckin' drought," Kobra complained.
"I know, but I also know this is gonna help you feel better, so you're gonna take the damn shower, alright?" He took a moment to strip off his gloves and his own shirt, expecting it to get soaked otherwise and adjusted the water then turned back to Kobra. "Alright, come here, sugar." He tucked an arm under Kobra's shoulders and slowly got him to his feet.
Kobra dutifully dropped his underwear and stepped out of them as Jet carefully guided him in the tub. It wasn't an instant fix, but it was immediately better, the hot water beating down on him, causing the tension in his neck and shoulders to release. He leaned into Jet's hand as he began kneading his neck.
"There ya go, baby," he soothed. "Just relax, I'll get you cleaned up."
Kobra gave a half-hearted thumbs up and let Jet scrub him down, keeping his eyes closed as he leaned into the wall opposite the shower head. Despite the lights being off it was still decently bright in the room, enough at least to irritate Kobra's migraine.
"Alright, sweetheart, turn around for me, I'm gonna get your hair while we're here."
"Don't gotta," Kobra answered tiredly.
"I know, but I want to," Jet answered."I wanna take care of you and we both know a head massage is gonna help. Might as well get ya fully clean while we're here."
Kobra sighed faintly and let Jet guide him into turning so his back was toward the shower head and he was a little more directly under the water.
Jet gently tilted Kobra's head back and massaged his scalp, doing his best to ensure his hair was fully soaked before guiding his head forward again and reaching for the shampoo. He tried to strike a balance of getting things over with as quickly as possible and going slow enough to not make things worse.
Kobra sniffled a little, forehead against his bent knees, as Jet messaged the shampoo into his hair and the water continued to beat down on his back. He hated this. Hated being basically incapacitated from a damn headache. He knew it wasn't that simple. Migraines were a neurological thing, he'd been told so many times by Jet, Dr. D, and Cyclone alike. There was a whole laundry list of reasons he could be experiencing them and there was a good chance that even if things weren't they way they were that they'd never know that reason. He knew that.
It was still stupid, though.
Wasn't fair that he was suffering and it wasn't even his fault.
That would have been one thing. It would have been one thing if he'd been stupid and was riding without his helmet and hit his head. It would have been fair or understandable at least if it had a reason behind it, if it had been something he'd done. Like how his wrist would act up when the weather turned after he broke it out climbing up on Destroya. That made sense. It sucked, but it made sense, and that sense made it bearable.
The migraine episodes had no rhyme or reason to them. Sure there were things that might trigger an episode, but there was no real cause for the disorder itself. Sure, he had some PTSD because his childhood was fucked up, but Party had been through the same shit and he was fine! So what was wrong with him that he wasn't?
Kobra wanted to blame the fucking autism or whatever the hell was wrong with him that BL/ind was threatening to institutionalize him over. Cyclone had said herself that people like him seemed to be more easily traumatized. Okay, so the word she used was more "commonly" traumatized, but whatever. Same thing. The point was Kobra was broken for no good, goddamn reason and it wasn't fair. It wasn't right. There should have been a way to fix it and there wasn't. And even worse even if the Helium Wars never happened, even if BL/ind and the Anolog Wars and the Fires and the Pig Bombings and everything. Even if none of that had happened, they still wouldn't have a damn clue what was wrong with him. Wouldn't be able to fix him. They best they'd be able to do his give him some damn drugs.
At least he wouldn't have to worry about losing his fucking mind from the meds if BL/ind wasn't around.
Something soft from age and warm wrapped around his shoulder and Kobra realized the water was off and he was getting cold. He did his best to help get himself dried off and dressed, but his head was throbbing still and he was dead tired.
It didn't take too long before he was dressed and Jet didn't even give him a choice, just swooped him up again and carried him to his own bed.
Jet sat with Kobra on his lap and leaned low against the wall, pulling the blanket all the way over Kobra's shoulder, and lightly kissed his towel-dried hair.
"Thanks for takin' care of me," Kobra mumbled.
Jet smiled and massaged his jaw. "You're welcome, sugar. Feelin' okay?"
"Shower helped."
"Good. I'll wait till you feel better to say I told you so."
Kobra snorted. "Bitch."
Jet kissed his head again. "Love ya too, baby."