muse_shuffle | March Disc Two
14. I'll get your medicine when your tummy aches
build you a fire if the furnace breaks
Oh it could be so nice, growin’ old with you.
I'll miss you, kiss you, give you my coat when you are cold.
Need you, feed you, I'll even let you hold the remote control.
[‘Grow Old With You’ - Adam Sandler]
Co-written with sexyinscrubs | Follows THIS
Aiden never really got hangovers. Not terrible ones, anyway. He usually suffered through a headache and got bitchy until it wore off, but that was the extent of it. And that was only when he drunk a lot. He wasn't a heavy drinker at the best of times. So there really was no explanation why he was bent over the toilet throwing up extensively the morning after Lachlan's birthday party. If anyone should be in this position right then, it was the birthday boy himself. Aiden had all of two glasses of wine because he was driving home. The thing was, he rarely got sick, too. He usually had to be unable to move and half dying before he even admitted to being ill, but right now, he really did not feel good at all.
With a small, strained moan, he flipped the lid of the toilet closed and flushed it so he could move to the sink and brush his teeth. Despite being sick, he didn't even really feel much better. Just slightly more empty. He contemplated a shower to try and make him feel better, but the thought alone drained him. He knew Riley had been feeling off with a fever the past few days, but had confirmed at the party it hadn't gone to anything beyond heating up and feeling achy. Aiden didn't feel hot or achy, though, just nauseous and tired. Really nauseous, he realised as he took his toothbrush from his mouth and leaned over the sink as his stomach threatened to rebel again. He had gotten most of the brushing done, so he rinsed his mouth and put his toothbrush back. He wasn't entirely convinced he wasn't going to pass out, actually. He felt sick and woozy, worried if he let go of the sink, he would fall over.
"Aiden," Pat said, coming up behind his husband and wrapping a securing arm around his waist. He had woken up to the sound of Aiden being sick the en suite bathroom adjoining their bedroom but by the time he wrestled himself out of the coocoon of covers he'd wrapped himself in in his sleep and pulled on some pyjama pants, Aiden was done... though from the colour of his face, it didn't look like that would be the end of it. It felt almost strange to have their roles reversed; it was usually Aiden taking care of an ailing Pat. "Are you okay, darling? Do you want to be sick again? Or do you want to lie down?"
The arm felt nice. Actually, it was a relief to know Pat was there. "I don't know..." Aiden said hoarsely. "Both?" This sucked, really. Harri and Marc were due to come to Princeton that day for the scan that had been pushed back a few days. Riley had no issues being Harri's doctor, but he had been rostered on to nights the previous week and couldn't do the scan she had schedule, so Harri was happy to change the day. Aiden had been going to go along for the ride, but still had a strange bug up his arse about the whole uterus thing and felt like he was intruding. The compromise was that Harri and Marc would come there for dinner so Marc could meet Pat and the godfather issue could be discussed.
Pat took a small bucket out from under the vanity that was kept there for emergencies like this. He just figured it wouldn't ever be Aiden that needed it. "You're as white as a sheet, sweetheart. Are you going to pass out of me if we head back to the bed so you can lie down? I don't know if I have the strength to catch you."
"I'll be okay. I need to lie down," Aiden told him, taking the bucket off Pat. "I'm hungover."
"You aren't hungover," Pat returned immediately, helping Aiden back to the bedroom. "We're married now. Excuses like that don't work anymore. This ring buys me the right to be a nagging wife and you're ill, not hungover. And if you aren't feeling better by lunch time, I'm getting Tara or Riley to come check you over."
Aiden pulled on his pyjama pants and t-shirt when they got back to the room. Last night after the party there was a distinct need for as little clothing as possible, but right now, that was just a distant memory. He didn't feel well and wanted to curl up in a ball of misery in bed and not move. He made sure the bucket was in easy reach and gratefully crawled back into their bed when Pat pulled the covers back for him. "Tara's going to have her own nagging wife hands full with Lachlan today. If he isn't comatose for a week, that is. Riley's at work. That's why he gave Harri the appointment time he did."
"I'll improvise," Pat returned, unphased, sitting down on the side of the bed beside Aiden. He stroked his fingers through Aiden's hair, watching him in concern. "Humour me, darling. All my problems started with nothing more than a slight headache one day. I'm annoyingly overcautious. If I had seen a doctor sooner, a lot of my problems might've been diluted. That's just going to encompass you by default now. You throw up, I worry. In sickness and in health, remember? You stay that shade of grey and I'm going to worry even more."
Aiden had to laugh softly but nodded reluctantly. He took Pat's hand, tugging softly on it. "Come back to bed with me and help me change back to my normal colour and I promise to try not to protest - much - when you launch doctors at me left, right, and centre," he bargained, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, his stomach turned abruptly. "Oh god," he groaned, making a rapid grab for the bucket just in time.
"'Much', darling?" Pat asked, massaging his shoulders through the sickness. "How about not at all? You leave the nursing up to me and I'll leave the publicity up to you."
All muses referenced with permission and are from the princeton2nyc universe
Word Count | 1,020
build you a fire if the furnace breaks
Oh it could be so nice, growin’ old with you.
I'll miss you, kiss you, give you my coat when you are cold.
Need you, feed you, I'll even let you hold the remote control.
[‘Grow Old With You’ - Adam Sandler]
Co-written with sexyinscrubs | Follows THIS
Aiden never really got hangovers. Not terrible ones, anyway. He usually suffered through a headache and got bitchy until it wore off, but that was the extent of it. And that was only when he drunk a lot. He wasn't a heavy drinker at the best of times. So there really was no explanation why he was bent over the toilet throwing up extensively the morning after Lachlan's birthday party. If anyone should be in this position right then, it was the birthday boy himself. Aiden had all of two glasses of wine because he was driving home. The thing was, he rarely got sick, too. He usually had to be unable to move and half dying before he even admitted to being ill, but right now, he really did not feel good at all.
With a small, strained moan, he flipped the lid of the toilet closed and flushed it so he could move to the sink and brush his teeth. Despite being sick, he didn't even really feel much better. Just slightly more empty. He contemplated a shower to try and make him feel better, but the thought alone drained him. He knew Riley had been feeling off with a fever the past few days, but had confirmed at the party it hadn't gone to anything beyond heating up and feeling achy. Aiden didn't feel hot or achy, though, just nauseous and tired. Really nauseous, he realised as he took his toothbrush from his mouth and leaned over the sink as his stomach threatened to rebel again. He had gotten most of the brushing done, so he rinsed his mouth and put his toothbrush back. He wasn't entirely convinced he wasn't going to pass out, actually. He felt sick and woozy, worried if he let go of the sink, he would fall over.
"Aiden," Pat said, coming up behind his husband and wrapping a securing arm around his waist. He had woken up to the sound of Aiden being sick the en suite bathroom adjoining their bedroom but by the time he wrestled himself out of the coocoon of covers he'd wrapped himself in in his sleep and pulled on some pyjama pants, Aiden was done... though from the colour of his face, it didn't look like that would be the end of it. It felt almost strange to have their roles reversed; it was usually Aiden taking care of an ailing Pat. "Are you okay, darling? Do you want to be sick again? Or do you want to lie down?"
The arm felt nice. Actually, it was a relief to know Pat was there. "I don't know..." Aiden said hoarsely. "Both?" This sucked, really. Harri and Marc were due to come to Princeton that day for the scan that had been pushed back a few days. Riley had no issues being Harri's doctor, but he had been rostered on to nights the previous week and couldn't do the scan she had schedule, so Harri was happy to change the day. Aiden had been going to go along for the ride, but still had a strange bug up his arse about the whole uterus thing and felt like he was intruding. The compromise was that Harri and Marc would come there for dinner so Marc could meet Pat and the godfather issue could be discussed.
Pat took a small bucket out from under the vanity that was kept there for emergencies like this. He just figured it wouldn't ever be Aiden that needed it. "You're as white as a sheet, sweetheart. Are you going to pass out of me if we head back to the bed so you can lie down? I don't know if I have the strength to catch you."
"I'll be okay. I need to lie down," Aiden told him, taking the bucket off Pat. "I'm hungover."
"You aren't hungover," Pat returned immediately, helping Aiden back to the bedroom. "We're married now. Excuses like that don't work anymore. This ring buys me the right to be a nagging wife and you're ill, not hungover. And if you aren't feeling better by lunch time, I'm getting Tara or Riley to come check you over."
Aiden pulled on his pyjama pants and t-shirt when they got back to the room. Last night after the party there was a distinct need for as little clothing as possible, but right now, that was just a distant memory. He didn't feel well and wanted to curl up in a ball of misery in bed and not move. He made sure the bucket was in easy reach and gratefully crawled back into their bed when Pat pulled the covers back for him. "Tara's going to have her own nagging wife hands full with Lachlan today. If he isn't comatose for a week, that is. Riley's at work. That's why he gave Harri the appointment time he did."
"I'll improvise," Pat returned, unphased, sitting down on the side of the bed beside Aiden. He stroked his fingers through Aiden's hair, watching him in concern. "Humour me, darling. All my problems started with nothing more than a slight headache one day. I'm annoyingly overcautious. If I had seen a doctor sooner, a lot of my problems might've been diluted. That's just going to encompass you by default now. You throw up, I worry. In sickness and in health, remember? You stay that shade of grey and I'm going to worry even more."
Aiden had to laugh softly but nodded reluctantly. He took Pat's hand, tugging softly on it. "Come back to bed with me and help me change back to my normal colour and I promise to try not to protest - much - when you launch doctors at me left, right, and centre," he bargained, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, his stomach turned abruptly. "Oh god," he groaned, making a rapid grab for the bucket just in time.
"'Much', darling?" Pat asked, massaging his shoulders through the sickness. "How about not at all? You leave the nursing up to me and I'll leave the publicity up to you."
All muses referenced with permission and are from the princeton2nyc universe
Word Count | 1,020