sicky log

[redshirted]

Who: Ian, Samus, Falcon
What: Ian hasn't been feeling too hot...
When: Future dated probably around to the 18th or 19th
Where: The firehaus
Warnings: Poison event

Ian hasn't been feeling totally himself lately... Sort of lethargic, in general a little bit hazy. He's been needing to sleep more and duck off work a bit early. He attributed to seasonal changes. Maybe it was just planet-side life catching up to him now that he's not spending the majority of his time in a climate controlled, sanitized space-station.

He's hasn't had time lately for much of his personal projects, so he decides maybe it's best to put them on sort of a hiatus, at least while he recovers from whatever generic sickness he's got. In the meantime, since he's not working on them, he might as well return the tools he borrowed from Falcon and Samus.

Normally, a jog over to their house wouldn't even leave him winded. Man. He has really got to kick whatever this is. He gets to their front door, breathing heavier than expected. He knocks and waits for an answer, rubbing his forehead. His face feels sort of hot and his hands feel sort of clammy all at once. Ugh.

Comments

[icequeen_aran]

Samus opened the door in her underpants--I mean no, the weather was unfortunately no longer conductive to 100% underpants all the time. Kicking-around-the-firehouse-attire was now more in the territory of sweat pants and Falcon's over-sized t-shirt, floppy sweaters and muscle-shirts when the heat was appropriately cranked.

"Ian." She greeted, not needing more than a quick glance to question if heat was inappropriately cranked in his face. Her brow furrows and she frowns immediately.

"Ian." That's an Ian-get-inside-what-did-you-do-slash-are-you-alright kind of 'Ian'.

[redshirted]

Ian was indeed ushered in, stumbling juuuuust slightly since he's feeling sort of dizzy all at once. This sickness had been sort of a slow build this entire time, but it seems to be coming to a head right now at this moment.

"Yeah I think I've been coming down with something recently," He doesn't really like complaining, so he almost sounded kind of apologetic and maybe even laugh it off, "Guess that's what I get for moving planet-side. You guys are so germy."

Really, he's fine Samus. That's why he looked flushed, obviously.

[icequeen_aran]

The risk of a possible contagion, while a thought, wasn't enough of one to deter her from bracing him post-stumble and helping him into the firehouse. One palm hooked under his arm pit while her other pressed against his forehead.

"You feel warm." She determined quickly, then added, "My ship has a medical bay. Think you can make it there?" Not that it was far--managing to fit inside the firehouse's mammoth garage.

Or she would carry him there like a baby, was the unsaid threat.

[redshirted]

"Come on, you're worse than my mom," he pulled away a little bit, waving off her off but still with a bit of a laugh. He can appreciate that she cares at least, even if it is (in his opinion) a bit misplaced.

"It's fine really," he assured her. He rubbed his forehead again, which admittedly was a bit warm but... "I feel fine."

Which is why he's so flushed, obviously.

[icequeen_aran]

"You don't look fine." She frowned. Deep down, Samus knew she'd act exactly the same way--stubborn and adamant to walk on her own two feet, so she carefully gave Ian a little breadth of space.

"When did this start?"

[redshirted]

Space. Space was good and it made Ian feel slightly less stuffy and hot without another person trying to carry him along. He steadied himself on his feet to try and give the illusion of health.

"Uh," he had to think. "Few days ago? Just been taking it easy."

[raced_god]

Falcon slid down the fire pole and he was wearing his underwear and nothing else.

"Uh."

There he was. In his underwear.

"Everything okay?"

[icequeen_aran]

The unmistakeable sound of a large be-muscled man sliding down the firehouse firepole in his underwear was unique and difficult to miss.

"Ian state of health is questionable." She dryly answered on Ian's behalf, since he didn't want to admit to feeling sick.

[redshirted]

"I'm--" Uh oh. Ian paused and his face kind of screwed up for a second. The unmistakable sound of a large be-muscled man sliding down the firepole is accompanied by the unmistakable screwed up look of disgust of someone experiencing a sudden and intense wave of nausea while attempting to best hide the fact that they just swallowed back that rancid taste in their throat. Oh jeez.

"I'mfineIwasjustreturningthesetools," his words were garbled in his attempt to get them out as quickly as possible in order to avoid vomiting right then and there. He wanted to avoid that. That would be rude probably.

[raced_god]

"You look like you're about to puke," said Falcon very astutely, still standing at the base of the fire pole in his underwear.

[icequeen_aran]

All the right signs were there for imminent pukage and Samus mentally scrambled for some kind of vomit repository--that bowl? That had (expensive, not-puke-proof) tools in it. That trash can? Totally overfilled with empty beer cans. Kitchen bowls? Upstairs in kitchen, not fast enough, too far away. Uh. Um. HM.

"Hang on--" Finally she spotted a nearby storage bin with disposable mechanical parts with an intended future of being recycled, but made the grave mistake of getting close to Ian again to usher him in that direction.

One hand went around his shoulder, and the other delicately braced his stomach as if that would help any.

[redshirted]

Ian responded to all of this (but probably mostly Falcon standing there in his underwear) by puking into the nearby storage bin.

Well. Mostly into the nearby storage bin.

[icequeen_aran]

Mostly into the nearby storage bin and kind of on Samus's feet and kind of with enough velocity hitting kind of all over the floor it kind of also splashed up onto her shins.

Puke was also really slippery and she was moving with such haste and intent it didn't take much more than kind of puke to get her to slip and slide. She flailed and managed to stave it off for a second, but since she was holding onto him as well, they were probably both going to hit the puke-covered floor.

[raced_god]

"Nice," said Falcon, doing absolutely nothing to help the situation.

[redshirted]

Oh no oh nooooo Ian goes fully down, probably mid-puke. He hits his shoulder hard. This is disgusting and gross and he isn't even finished yet apparently, since after they hit the floor he makes a grab for the storage bin to pitch his head over and continue barfing.

He heaves a few more times as the rest comes out, coughing out, "Sorry."

[icequeen_aran]

So Samus is sitting there on the floor half-covered in puke while Ian continues to puke into a storage bin of left-over mechanical scraps while Falcon is watching this going on doing absolutely nothing to help the situation. Who, oh who would help them?

It was Megaweapon. While Samus was carefully pulling herself to her hand and knees, the dog trotted over with a tail-wag in her step for the express purpose of licking Ian in the face. She got maybe three or four licks before Samus shoved her away with her now puke-covered hands.

"Megaweapon, no."

If Samus did not have the constitution of someone who regularly shoots and explodes all manners of gross alien monsters, she probably would have joined in with uncontrolled sympathy barfing by now. Good thing for Ian she was not doing such, and finally got to her feet. She duly noted there appeared to be no bile or blood in his puke. That was. Good.

"It's okay, just... let it out. It can be cleaned." She shot a look at Falcon. "Falcon will help."

Falcon will help.

[raced_god]

"I have a thing," Falcon said, thumbing in the general direction of back up the fire pole.

[icequeen_aran]

"The thing is a towel you're going to bring back."

[redshirted]

"No--" Ian coughs, wiping his mouth, trying to do his best to clean up what Megaweapon has effectively smeared around the lower half of his face. He waves his other hand trying to stop the both of them from arguing.

"I can get it," he rolls over and pushes onto his knees and then onto his feet. He is sort of woozy, but he's gross and a little embarrassed and he doesn't want to leave puke all over Samus' floor even if he's light-headed and the peripheries of his vision are blackening now that he's fully upright. "I can--"

And then he passed out.

[raced_god]

"Nice," said Falcon.

[icequeen_aran]

samus punched him in the dick

[icequeen_aran]

One convenient black-out and time-skip later, Ian had been carried to the gunship and the medical bay contained within. It didn't take much more than a quick analysis to determine it was not a contagion, and that in lieu of an antidote, bedrest was the best course of action.

And no more food from Smash Academy. It was definitely something in the food.

Samus imagined Ian would not be thrilled to hear about that, but the bedrest thing was something he was well working on; stripped to his underwear but bundled up in spare blanket like a soldier burrito now occupying much of the upstairs couch. Occupying the rest was Samus (clean and not pukey), sitting watching TV while her thighs acted as half a pillow, waiting for him to wake up.

[raced_god]

Falcon was over there mopping up puke, or something.

[redshirted]

Ian was over here in his warm soldier burrito, swaddled up not unlike a baby and resting relatively calmly when considering the events that transpired leading up to his current situation.

He stirred occasionally, maybe murmuring here or there or letting out a particularly loud snore, but it took a solid few hours for him to show signs of wakening. He rolled over onto his side toward her, kind of scrunching up his legs to get comfy. He found the blankets kind of restricting in this position, though, rolling back and forth until he blink his eyes open. He was greeted with an up-close view Samus' crotch/lower abdomen, which was nationally sort of confusing. He craned his neck to try and make sense of the situation. Seeing Samus' face made sense in a way, but was confusing in many others.

"Oh uhh--" Were the first words he sleepily managed. Ian awkwardly cleared his throat and sort of squirms to try and twist his body around, "Hey."

[icequeen_aran]

Television was not necessarily Samus's preferred way to pass the time (as it was minimally productive) but after settling in on some news or educational type programs it was a precarious balance of being very engrossed and being very not engrossed. Ian of course had the ill-timing of returning to consciousness during a particularly engrossing part of a news report commiserating a murder that happened three years ago in FDC to date, mentioned only because 1) it involved a resident of Smash Academy and 2) also coincides with a string of violence that occurred this time last year and again four years ago also involving Smash Academy residents, and now 3) wide-spread reports of possible food contamination at Smash Academy. Maybe there really was something wrong with November...

Despite that, it was really difficult to ignore someone's face in your crotch. She casually lifted up some of the blanket that twisted up around his head so she could get a better look at him, and he to her.

"You've been out for a few hours." She offers something of a lop-sided smile, silently asking if he feels better for it. She hopes he does.

[redshirted]

Ian twisted back onto his back, slowly becoming more and more aware of the feeling of blanket against bare skin. It occurred to him that he is mostly naked except for some (thankfully) nondescript boxer shorts. Ian was never particularly self-conscious about his body, but much of him still associates Samus with little bitty teenager version, who, when she was around, he always tried to curb the rest of the squad's locker room behavior (usually with little success). So. He sort of bundles the blanket around him a little bit to try and not be mostly naked. On Samus' couch. With his head in her lap. Notably he didn't really try and fix that second part.

He sort of sheepishly smiled back as much as he could muster.

"I feel a lot better," Definitely not 100%, that part is obvious, still looking sort of clammy and feverish, but he wasn't going to try and make more of a fuss than he already has. This was still way better than puking out his guts.

[icequeen_aran]

Samus had lost much of her modesty since she was a little bitty teenager (even then was questionable) but not unlike Ian, that association was there. These were only peripheral concerns as she was much more keenly interested in the state of his health.

She hoped Falcon was done cleaning the puke by now. He didn't exactly have a favorable health outlook either from his skirmish with Blood not even a few days ago, but he didn't exactly earn much sympathy from Samus doing little more than congratulating Ian on the impressive puke pile he made. Not when they were also in a house with super advanced technology to medically aid in just such skirmishes.

"Still a little warm..." Samus said after feeling his forehead for a few moments. Ian however, seemed to just need rest for now. Fine by her.

"Your clothes are in the dryer. You did a number on them. And mine."

[redshirted]

"Sorry," He told her, cringing at the reminder of his vomit explosion. He attempted to keep the mood light, offering a laugh at his own expense, "That was worse than the time the squad took me out after finishing boot camp."

Worse than the holiday party where he ended up with his head in Adam's trashcan in the morning. Worse than his first shore leave after staring active duty. Worse than... well worse than a lot of things.

He supposed he should probably. Not lay on Samus' lap anymore. He cautiously lifted his head, shifting to be an upright blanket burrito tube on the couch next to her. He felt a wave of queasiness come over him again when he moves, but took comfort in the fact that it was much milder... Plus there wasn't much left to vomit.

"You can just give me a ride back to campus," Aw cute Ian thought he'd be able to go like this is still just some mild stomach bug...

[icequeen_aran]

Worse than Anthony's secret space burrito recipe. worse than phazon sickness

Immediately she felt a draft on her left as he moved away and took his body-heat with him. She'd content with him sitting up and doing as he pleased, but that excluded going back to campus.

"No." She said. "There's a contaminate in the food supply at campus. I wish I could say this is the first time something like this has happened, but you're saying here to detox."

[redshirted]

His lips curl down and his brows furrow. Ian's pouting-- he doesn't even try to hide it. It's a come on, Samus. He supposes he doesn't have to listen. She's not officially in charge of him in any capacity (and never was really) but he is used to keeping orders especially when they partly sounded like how his own mother might have scolded him. He never enjoyed being sick, certainly not now since he had apparently tried to function at his normal level of activity to the point of a very obvious physical break down.

He groans, "I'm sure it was just a one time thing."

The result of one of his questionable snacks at 3 AM no doubt.

[icequeen_aran]

"It could have been worse. You could have turned into a Pokemon." Delivered dryly enough to question if she was being serious but the way her eyes darted in Falcon's direction implied that he was indeed the example she was referring to.

And definitely not just a one time thing.

[redshirted]

That is an interesting thought and the idea of Falcon running around as a Pokemon lightened the mood, amusing Ian a little bit. He darts his eyes and nods his head over at Falcon, mouthing really??

Because that sounds like. A story. One that he would like to hear.

[icequeen_aran]

Similarly, her eyes dart over, as if to confirm. She knows by now Ian has acquainted himself with some the creatures that frequent the school and surrounding vicinity, but she's not sure to what extent. She's had a long time to get used to the strange nuances of pocket monsters.

"Blaziken are large, wingless bipedal avians affiliated with fire. He's turned into one twice so far, and I sincerely hope that's his limit." Her lips were curled into a smirk as she explained, but that faded the moment her eyes darted in another direction--that of the spare room. It was a room Samus never openly talked about and a door she kept closed. She wasn't sure if Ian had ever gotten nosy about that room on his own without her knowing, which by now for as long he's been at Smash and visiting the firehouse was a distinct possibility.

If ever has, he would have found it devoid of anything but a few storage boxes, walls painted in blue, and decorated with scorches and large claw marks that would fit a frenzied, large, wingless bipedal avian creature.

[redshirted]

Ian had indeed made it to the spare room, probably not long after he had arrived and ended up searching through Samus and Falcon's home during their notable absence. He hadn't meant to snoop, but their departure was so sudden and without warning that he felt like he needed to explore every possibility of where they might have disappeared to, including sad, blue rooms.

Ian's eyes open wide, followed by a sort of wincing, a pained sympathetic eeeeech face when it all processes. Obviously whatever had happened in that room was not a comfortable experience. Once was bad, but twice just seemed excessively rough.

"That wasn't a food contamination issue too, was it..."

[icequeen_aran]

She nodded sagely. The latter instance also found contaminates in his lungs, suggesting it was also airborne, but by the long and short of it, the prime suspect was...

"Steer clear of any bake sales, unless you're feeling brave." As it had been in past instances of unexplained sudden transformations.

"I know that will be especially challenging for you." She teased, deadpan as could be, but with an slow-growing smirk she couldn't help.

[redshirted]

"Heeeey," he mocks offense again, fake-pouting to try and garner sympathy points. He was just getting violently ill a few hours ago right? Though it is a fair point. Back on the space station, he probably used most of his commissary funds to buy snacks.

"I'm still recovering from the slop the Feds tried to pass as food in the mess hall, Sam. Can't blame me for indulging a little." The same sort of indulging and midnight snacking that lead to his current predicament. And the fact that he's getting a bit soft around the edges without a strict military regiment of exercise.

[icequeen_aran]

Something Samus was going to duly point out by pinching (not hard) said softness, by his hips.

"Just don't indulge too much. Or I'll make you run laps with me and Falcon in the morning."

That actually sounded like a nice idea, once the words were out of her mouth.