A Pox On Your House

[staticsnap]

Characters: Shark!Erik, Pilot Fish!Ben
Date&Time: December 25th, evening
Setting: Ben's absconded den  Erik's room 
Summary: Gesunteit; see also: alternatives to chicken soup.
Rating: Rish?
Status: Open to Cooler!Erik.

Comments

[rageserenity]

This was why you should never let children drink - a lesson he'd never quite learnt, because he started early and was no worse off for it, so he saw no reason others shouldn't too - because the little bastards spilt things.

Children were very good at spilling things, it seemed, especially a festive drink, and especially onto Erik's shoes.

It was frankly unacceptable, and he'd berated the little toerag until the clumsy little creature had rushed off to his room in tears - a fitting enough punishment for one who'd dropped a glass of eggnog onto Magneto's pristeenly polished Italian footwear.

It did mean, however, that he had to leave the Christmas 'party' in order to trudge upstairs in just his socks with a view to changing his shoes, knowing full well he likely looked ridiculous but that anyone who said so or even dared think so would be beaten to within an inch of their lives.

He didn't, naturally, expect to find Ben curled up in his bed sniffling horrendously. In. His. Bed.

"Benjamin," he boomed out, "When I told you to take

[staticsnap]

Normally, Ben loved Erik's entrances. He looked forward to the man's arrival because it heralded great and wonderful things involving all the fun parts of anatomy that he liked best and some that he hadn't even realized could be used like that. This time, however, Erik came in with all the force of a thunderclap and it was all Ben could do not to send a bout of lightning his way in retaliation. The thought was only briefly amusing because for all that he was reckless, Ben wasn't suicidal. Rather than tempt a gruesome death, he merely groaned and curled more tightly into a ball

[rageserenity]

A thoroughly disgusted frown etched into the lines of his face, Erik flung a hand carelessly towards the window and it flew open with a shattering bang, a pane almost cracking from the force of it against the wall, a terrible gust of ice-cold air forcing it's way in and penetrating the cosy room in seconds, snowflakes beginning to gather upon the sill already.

"Just what do you think you're doing spreading your germs over my bed and smearing them across my pillows, Benjamin? You do realise, I hope, that if I somehow manage to pick up this foul affliction, you'll be spending a week in the dungeons - and not for pleasure."

He dropped his filthy shoes on the floor and marched over in his socks, leaning over Ben and pressing his palm to the boy's forehead, checking his temperature and tutting in disapproval, fishing the discarded spoilt pillow off the floor and hitting Ben across the head with it.

[staticsnap]

The arctic relief that the clattering window brought was so great that Ben could have wept. 'Could have' being the operative term because whatever liquid had been in his body had been evaporated through the sheer bloody determination of his fever. Instead, he grunted his thanks and flopped listlessly onto his back, arm still spread in the direction of the window as though to beckon all the northern gales toward him.

The position turned out to be a mistake. It left him open to attack. That was the problem with shit like this, it made keeping one's defenses up incredibly difficult. Vigilance just flew right out the window.

"I told you, m'fine," Ben grumbled, swatting ineffectually at Erik's hand. He squawked as the pillow smashed against the side of his face, the whump of displaced air encroaching on the blissful state of misery he'd been crawling toward. With a pathetic growl, Ben grabbed the pillow and tossed it back in Erik's direction, landing a soft blow to the man's waist. It was somewhat anti-climactic, really, but then Erik