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angstyaches · 6 months

Note

for the sick or treat asks,,, what if we had shayne 🍫... a bit uncharacteristic but that's why i'm interested to see how you might write that! if you're up for it:)

Overindulgence also requested by @wussifer, thank you, my dears! Sorry the emeto isn't shown, I just really wanted some soft Sharlie and Belle.

Sick or Treat Game

CW: mention of emeto, overindulgence (soda; I still don't feel like he's at the point of actually overeating but still really loved the idea of this prompt!!)

___

“Happy Halloween!” Charlie waved as a tiny Jack Sparrow and a ghost sprinted towards where their parent were waiting at the end of the driveway. They stopped to wave again, almost spilling their candy buckets in the process. Charlie lifted Belle’s hand and gently had her wave back, much to the parent’s visible delight.

After all, how could one not be delighted by an adorable little cutie in a pumpkin costume? Charlie was about ready to drop dead out of love for his niece.

“You’re enjoying this far too much.”

A faintly raspy voice made Charlie turn his head as the trick-or-treaters walked down the street. He shut the front door again as Shayne skulked down the shadowy hallway, retreating from the noise and bustle of the living room. He hadn’t brought a costume, but in his usual dark attire, he didn’t exactly stand out. Charlie had wriggled into a cheap plastic clown jumpsuit he’d bought a few years ago, which Ingrid had – characteristically – stored in a box until the time came for it to be used again. He'd thought about doing face paint, but had decided that since Belle was probably still just learning to recognise him, he'd be better off without it.

“And?” Charlie grinned.

Shayne raised an eyebrow as he leaned against the wall next to the door, as though he intended to let Charlie come up with his own answer. His dark eyes swiveled to Belle, who was elegantly drooling around the tips of her own thumb, and then fixed on Charlie’s face again.

He looked... a little off.

“Hi,” Charlie said experimentally.

"Hi."

Charlie tilted his hip, drawing both arms around Belle and twisting his upper body in the opposite direction, so that he could lean over and give Shayne a kiss on the cheek. He felt Shayne’s fingers softly graze his hip, and Charlie ached with the need to bury his fingers in his boyfriend’s hair.

They’d been behaving themselves all night, due to the fact that they were barely ever out of sight of Charlie’s family; not that Ingrid or Trevor ever made them feel bad for being physically affectionate, but Charlie would rather swallow a spider whole than give Jonathan any excuse to tease or embarrass him. Besides, present moment aside, the thought of doing anything too intense near Belle made him a little uneasy.

“So..." Finger still lightly tracing over Charlie's waist, Shayne cleared his throat. "I threw up."

Charlie frowned, adjusting Belle on his hip again. “You what? When?”

“Few minutes ago.”

After making sure Belle was stable between his waist and his elbow, Charlie laid one hand against Shayne’s cheek, once more inspecting his complexion and the brightness of his eyes. “Are you okay?”

Shayne nodded, pressing his cheek into Charlie's touch. "I'm fine."

“Is it stressing you out? Being here?” Charlie asked, his mind racing as he struggled to recall any signs that Shayne was having a bad time. He’d seemed content enough to listen to Nicole’s complaints about Belle’s sleep schedule, and to Jonathan’s ridiculous ramblings.

“No, it’s fine. I just…” Shayne ran a hand over his stomach, shaking his head. “It... might have been the cherry coke.”

Charlie raised his eyebrows.

“Every time someone speaks to me, I can’t help drinking more, and people have been talking… a lot,” Shayne admitted, looking like he was working hard to suppress a shiver.

“I'm sorry, lovely. Are you sure you're okay?” Charlie asked again. He gave another glance towards the sitting room door.

Rubbing at his stomach again, Shayne shut his eyes and nodded. "I'm fine."

“Well… want to stay out here with us for a bit? Give away sweets?” Charlie broke into a smile as Shayne eyed the glass bowl that was just about half-empty by now. Whether he looked apprehensive because food was involved, or because he was still being required to be sociable, Charlie wasn’t sure. “You can glare at the trick-or-treaters all you like. Give them your scariest one.”

“Really?” Shayne glanced at Belle, and back up at Charlie. "Scariest?"

“Yep.”

“Can I teach Belle how to glare, too?"

Charlie barely held back a scoff as he turned his head to observe his niece's bright green eyes. She was gazing back at him, head tilted back as though to get a wider view, as though she couldn't get enough of the sight of him just as much as he couldn't get enough of her.

"She smiles way too much,” Shayne observed.

“Only you could think a baby smiles too much.”

They both started slightly when there was a knock on the front door, followed by a chorus of high-pitched voices calling, “Trick or treat!”

With some apparent effort, Shayne peeled himself away from the wall and moved a hand towards the door handle.

“Ready, Belle?” he whispered.

Charlie grinned, hugging his pumpkin niece a little closer.

#StW Shayne #StW Charlie #StW Belle #sickfic #emeto #drabbles #Halloween drabbles #Halloween sickfic

20 notes · View notes

angstyaches · 1 year

Note

from the prompts you just reblogged, would you do 10 for shayne and charlie? they’re literally so cute and i just love how flustered they both get when shayne’s tummy is upset. shayne always seems so embarrassed when he has to acknowledge having a physical form and charlie is adorable when he’s trying to pretend that he has a normal level of affection for shayne’s tummy

The ending to this did not want to be written. I'm sorry if it's awful.

Another one from @butterfliesornauseous's lovely prompt list.

I've been in a plot/character development mood lately so this ending up being about 10% character dynamic, 70% Charlie angst, and 20% Shayne having a stomach ache.

I just thought the idea of Shayne feeling sick but still focusing on Charlie's problem was nice 🖤

CW: anxiety, stress, crying, mention of childhood depression and trauma, food mention, slight bloating, implied body issues, stomach ache, stomach noises, burping, belly rubs, mutual hurt/comfort.

___

Charlie idly stroked the side of Shayne’s arm and let his mind wander.

They were sitting next to each other in the surprisingly spacious conservatory – one of the better selling points of Trevor and Ingrid’s latest fixer-upper. The four of them had eaten a late dinner and then moved out here to continue catching up.

As nice at it was to get some use out of the conservatory, it wasn’t the most well-insulated, so Charlie was glad that Ingrid had suggested making hot chocolate. He could still feel it warming him up inside, even if his mug was empty and cool in his hand.

He was also enjoying the mundane view, if he was being honest; streetlamps blacked out the sky, erasing the stars, but the sights of other people’s – strangers’ – driveways and gable ends was comforting. He loved Mulberry, but the knowledge that it was the only house around for miles wasn’t exactly his favourite thing.

He wondered if he would always have this need to seek out crowds and repetition and anonymity.

This was the only room that had been completely cleared of construction clutter, leaving just the two wicker loveseats and matching coffee table. Even the blinds had been pulled all the way up, their cords rolled and sellotaped out of reach of anyone shorter than three feet. Belle wasn’t old enough to walk about by herself yet, but Charlie’s parents were taking no risks.

She would be here tomorrow. In this room, at the same time as him.

Charlie’s chest fluttered. He was trying to convince himself that he was feeling the good kind of nervous, but this didn’t feel like that. He knew he needed to get over it. Did he really want his five-month-old niece to look at his face for the first time and see all of his fear, all of his insecurity there? Was that the kind of role model he wanted to be?

“... Charlie –”

His thoughts jerked back to the moment at the sound of his own name.

Shayne was speaking towards the other loveseat. Trevor and Ingrid were seated over there, holding mugs that matched the ones that Charlie and Shayne were using.

A warm feeling swept in to soothe the anxiety in Charlie’s chest as he realised Shayne hadn’t said his name to get his attention; he was in the middle of telling his parents a story.

“And then, um... w-well, Brian says, ‘oh, Charlie’s a nice name. Is she pretty?’”

Ingrid snorted softly.

“And – and I panic, right?” Shayne said, “and I say, ‘Yeah, Brian, she’s beautiful’.”

Trevor bent his head forward, cackled, and slapped his knee.

Warm feeling rapidly retreating, Charlie gaped at his boyfriend. “Excuse me?”

“Shayne,” Ingrid chided outrageously, lifting a hand to her mouth to hide her grin.

“What? I’m sorry,” Shayne groaned, sinking back in the loveseat and sliding down a few inches. “The guy is ninety-one. For all I know, I could have given him a heart attack if I corrected him.”

Trevor, Charlie noted, was still chuckling away. Great. Thanks, Dad.

“Charlie,” Shayne said softly, looking up from his slumped position. He had one hand balled into a fist and was half-heartedly covering his mouth to hide his grimace. The other – Charlie couldn’t help noticing – was holding his empty mug in place at the top of his tummy. “Forgive me?”

Charlie smiled. He didn’t even have to think about it. The fact that Shayne was relaxed enough to even tell Charlie’s parents a story about his life was enough to make Charlie’s insides flutter.

Definitely in the good way this time.

“I forgive you,” he said, “but are you saying that if I ever visit the nursing home with you, I’ll have to wear a pretty dress and pretend to be a girl, all for the benefit of a ninety-year-old man who thinks you have a girlfriend?”

“Ninety-one,” Shayne corrected him.

“I don’t know, Char,” Trevor chimed in, “I think you could pull it off.”

“Can we take it easy with the gendered stereotypes, please?” Ingrid demanded, partially tongue-in-cheek, partially genuine. “I’m a girl, and I haven’t worn a ‘pretty dress’ in years.”

Shayne tilted his head to one side. “And I’m... fairly sure I've seen Felix in a dress.”

Despite not even knowing who Felix was, Ingrid gestured towards Shayne, raising an eyebrow at Charlie.

“Alright, alright,” Charlie half-smiled, lifting his hands in surrender. “I was describing a... a caricature more than anything –”

“Too late, son,” Trevor declared. “You’ve been cancelled.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “On that intellectual note, I think I’ll be off to bed with a cup of tea and my book. Have to savour the peace before it all kicks off tomorrow. Are you boys staying down here a bit longer?”

Charlie glanced at Shayne, who shrugged. He was still sitting a little too low in the loveseat, mug propped on his belly, and he looked adorably established.

“Yeah,” Charlie said. “I think so.”

“Don’t be too long, though.” Ingrid wrinkled her nose and shuddered. “It’s cold.”

“Your bed’s all made up for you,” Trevor reminded them for the third time since they’d arrived. Charlie had a feeling his dad’s emphasis was on the word your, insisting that the spare room in the fixer-upper belonged to Charlie as much as it would have if he’d been living with him permanently. Charlie couldn’t think about it for too long without his eyes fogging up, so he flashed his father a grateful smile.

“Oh – do either of you want more hot chocolate?” Ingrid asked. “There’s still some left in the slow cooker.”

Shayne was instantly shaking his head. “No, thank you, Ingrid.”

Confused, Charlie glanced at the empty mug in Shayne’s hand. He hated the thought of Shayne pretending to like something just to be polite or to not hurt his parents’ feelings. He’d had a similar thought at dinner, when Trevor had given Shayne a slice of lasagne the same size as Charlie’s, and Shayne hadn’t said anything despite the look of dread on his face.

“Um, yes, please,” Charlie smiled widely as his mum passed him on her way to the kitchen.

She gently clicked her tongue and took his mug. “How did I know you would? Hmm?”

“I mean, I can get it mys–” Charlie uncrossed his legs and started to stand up.

“No, no, no, stop that. Relax, sweetie.” Ingrid poked his shoulder. She always made a point of fussing over him on the first day of one of his visits. By tomorrow morning, he’d be hard-pressed to get her to pour him a cup of coffee from a pot she was already holding, at least not without a raised eyebrow.

He waited until both his parents had stepped out of the conservatory and into the kitchen before he turned towards Shayne again.

“You didn’t like the hot chocolate?” Charlie asked softly. He was a little bit disappointed that sipping hot chocolate on chilly night wouldn’t become one of their regular shared activities.

“I did.” Shayne narrowed his eyes. “I just didn’t want any more.”

Right. Charlie had spent so long battling his own serotonin-starved brain that he forgot that some people actually believed that too much of a good thing could be bad. When Charlie found something he liked, he tended to indulge in it as much as he could before his brain decided to give up rewarding him for it. If there was a button that he could have pressed for instant serotonin, Charlie would have mashed it to pieces a long time ago.

Next to him, Shayne turned his head away, raising a fist to stifle a low belch. “Sorry.”

Charlie put a hand on Shayne’s leg, his heart dropping. Had Shayne been waiting for Trevor and Ingrid to leave before burping? How long had been holding it in?

“Are you okay? Are you feeling sick?”

When Shayne didn’t immediately say no, it was usually because the answer was yes. And Charlie’s first reaction was a mixture of sympathy and indignation.

Holy shit, he’s so cute; I need to cuddle him right this second.

It wasn’t supposed to make his tummy hurt.

“No,” Charlie keened softly, glancing towards Shayne’s empty hot chocolate mug. “No, no, no, we made it with soy milk so it wouldn’t –”

“Ssshh,” Shayne whispered, his eyes pleading as he looked towards the door to the kitchen.

Charlie wanted nothing more than to fuss over his boyfriend and forget everything else, but that was when his father came back to the conservatory.

“Here you go,” Trevor said, arriving beside Charlie with his cup of hot chocolate, refilled. “Watch it, it’s hot.”

“Night, boys!” Ingrid called out from the hallway.

“Goodnight,” they both responded.

“Jon said they’ll probably be here around eleven,” Trevor said. “So, you two’ll be up and about by then, won’t you?”

Charlie’s heart sank again as he was reminded of the countdown to Jon’s arrival with his girlfriend and child. “Yeah, of course we will be.”

“Now, Char, remember. If you want to open that window in your room upstairs –” That time, Trevor definitely nodded in time with the words your room. “It sticks sometimes. So, you have to lift the frame, pull it in slightly –”

Even though he’d heard all of this twice before, Charlie smiled and nodded.

“Okay?” Trevor said.

“Can do. Thanks, Dad.”

Trevor still looked unconvinced that Charlie had understood his instructions. “You’ll figure it out. Goodnight, you two.”

“Night, Dad.”

“Goodnight, Trevor, thank you.”

And then they were alone.

Shayne held his empty mug in his right hand, propping his arm on the side of the loveseat. His left hand rested on his belly now, and Charlie’s head was flooded with all the different ways he could take over that job. Each image made his own stomach flutter, made his head feel like it was full of glitter.

He took a few mouthfuls of his hot chocolate, hoping to wash down the guilt and shame rising to his throat.

I’m so mean.

I’m so weird.

It had taken a lot of trust-building for Shayne to feel okay with letting Charlie know he didn’t feel well. Would he still be holding his stomach like that if he knew what kind of thoughts it sent spiraling through Charlie’s mind? How his face was burning with heat, and not just because of the scalding hot chocolate?

“Hey, I’m fine.” Shayne frowned as he saw Charlie's expression. “Will you stop worrying?”

Charlie panicked, thinking his stupid face must have betrayed his guilty elation, but Shayne must have interpreted the look as one of concern.

“Seriously.” Shayne tilted his head to one side. He pulled himself forward and sat up a little straighter, his torso turned towards Charlie. “Are you okay tonight? Why are you so jumpy?”

“I’m not jumpy! Who said I was jumpy?”

Shayne was leaning forward to place his mug on the coffee table. His eyes flicked off to the side, then met Charlie’s again. “Me. I just said it.”

“Um...”

“Here.” Shayne pried Charlie’s mug away from him and placed it on the coffee table too. “Hold my hands.”

Charlie was horrified to find that his hands were shaking, but that didn’t seem to bother Shayne as he took them in his.

“I know why you’re freaking out.”

Shit.

“I know you’re scared that Belle won’t like you,” Shayne said.

Wait... What? Charlie blinked. His head felt like it had been hurtling down one road, only for someone to slam on the brakes and crash through a barrier onto a different road. How –?

“But, like... god, how do I say this without sounding like an asshole?” Shayne muttered. “She’s a baby. She doesn’t even know that colours have names yet. You could be a murderer, and I doubt she would even care, as long as you made enough funny faces at her.”

Charlie should have been relieved that Shayne hadn’t noticed the other reason for Charlie’s nerves, but his heart kept fluttering anyway.

“That... probably didn’t come out right.” Shayne rubbed both of Charlie’s wrists with his thumbs. “Did I sound like an asshole?”

“No,” Charlie laughed incredulously. “Take it easy on yourself.”

Shayne arched an eyebrow. “Take your own advice, my love.”

“Hmm.” Charlie’s smile faltered.

Truth was, this had been weighing on him all week, ever since he’d gotten a message from Jonathan to say he, Nicole, and Belle would be visiting Trevor and Ingrid that Sunday. It hadn’t been an enthusiastic invitation; just a statement, left floating in the ether. It was like Jon had tossed a chunk of leftover ham between himself and a hungry dog, saying it doesn’t make a damn bit of difference to me if you eat this or not, but it’s there.

But that was how it’d always been between the two of them.

Charlie had gotten on the phone to Ingrid – it had been the first time she’d heard of this arrangement – and half-hoped that she would say that she and his dad wouldn’t be able to put him up on Saturday night, meaning the trip wouldn’t be worthwhile. She’d been delighted to offer him the spare room, though.

His last hope had been Shayne. He had been counting on him to decline Charlie’s offer to join him at his parents’, at which point Charlie could offer to meet him somewhere else instead. Sorry, Jon, he could have said. Plans with the bf this weekend. Catch you next time!

But Shayne had agreed to accompany him as soon as Charlie had explained the situation. He hadn’t even hesitated. He’d made Charlie simultaneously the most grateful and most disappointed boyfriend in the world.

Charlie blinked and fought to get the smile back on his face. His chest ached with guilt towards the part of him that resented Shayne for not giving him an excuse not to be here.

“What if...” His voice wavered. “What if she doesn’t like me?”

Shayne blinked in surprise. “I already covered that. Remember? My definitely-not-an-asshole speech?”

“I-I know. I know she’s just a baby now, but –” Charlie licked his lips. He had the urge to get up and try to walk off some of the nervous energy, but he didn’t want to let go of Shayne’s hands. “Even if tomorrow goes okay, she’s... she’s always going to have me in her life, and I just... I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

Charlie tried not to think too hard about the next part. He just talked.

“I didn’t exactly have the most optimistic outlook on life when I was a kid, and... and I don’t know if I ever got over it, or if I just learned to live with the depression at some point? Coexist with it, just like I did with CT? But I’ve always – I've always needed things to help me get through the negative feelings, you know? Even just... little things.”

“Like Mr. Teddy?”

Charlie paused, surprised that that was the first thing that popped into Shayne’s head. “Vincent.”

“Right. Vincent. Sorry.”

“Not just him, but... yeah.”

Shayne nodded sincerely.

“But beneath all of that... effort I made –” Charlie fought hard not to cringe; did he think his own attempts to stave off his depression had been some noble act of service to the world? Was he a hero for finding ways to cheer himself up? “For a long time, I felt like there was nothing worth looking forward to. Sometimes, the world felt so harsh, so scary, so...”

Shayne’s eyes glittered with sadness.

“Empty,” Charlie whispered. He wasn’t even sure if it had come from himself or from CT, but that didn’t even seem to matter.

Shayne sighed like he’d been holding his breath.

“What if...” Charlie swallowed again, his throat drying up as his eyes became wetter. “What if Belle comes to me one day, and asks me what the point of everything is? What if she asks me if things get better, if everything will be okay, if the world really is as messy and confusing and infuriating as it seems?”

A sob clawed at Charlie’s throat and he gulped against it, shuddering.

“What if she’s in pain, like I was, and she asks me to make it better, and I can’t?”

“Then...” Shayne squeezed both of Charlie’s hands. “Her Uncle Charlie won’t lie to her.”

Charlie took a deep breath, letting his mind wrap around that. He had been so lost in feeling and hearing his own despair that he had almost forgotten that Shayne could talk, too. “What?”

“I was lied to my whole young life,” Shayne said. “I wish that I’d had someone who just... told me the fucking truth. Even if it was messier and more fucked-up than any of the lies they could come up with.”

Charlie’s stomach twisted. He wasn’t sure that the psychological abuse Shayne had gone through fell into the same category as the little white lies that adults told children to preserve their world view. But he had a point, and the more he thought about it, the more he realised that if someone – anyone – had told his ten-year-old self that there was a name for the feeling he was so afraid of, maybe he’d have had an easier time of things. He could have gotten help. He could have sought out connections with other people who felt the same way.

Maybe he’d have had a better relationship with Jon. Maybe he’d have a father who could look him in the eye and say I miss you instead of always dancing around the subject.

“What?” Shayne frowned. “Was that – now am I being an asshole?”

“No. No, you’re right.” Charlie shook his head. Teardrops started to run down his face. “You’re so right, lovely...”

He lifted his arms, looping them around Shayne’s waist as he shifted forward to draw Charlie into an embrace.

“I’m just so scared,” he wept into Shayne’s shoulder. “I’m so – so scared that she’ll – that I won’t be able to help her.”

“You will be,” Shayne whispered to him. “Maybe not in the ways you want to, but... you’ll be the exact person she needs you to be.”

Charlie loved his parents. They were wonderful people. But there were subjects that just weren’t spoken about in their family when he’d been growing up, and the person Charlie had needed was someone who wouldn’t pretend that things were normal when they weren’t. Who wouldn’t pretend that life was supposed to be unbearably stressful or you just weren’t doing it right.

He’d needed someone who wouldn’t pretend that they had all the answers, just because they were expected to.

He needed someone like the person he was now.

Sobs quietly racked his body, dissolving into shivers. He tried his best to keep quiet; the last thing he wanted was for his parents to hear and to start worrying about him again. There was definitely a conversation he needed to have with them, but there was enough drama happening for one weekend already.

For now, he just let himself be held. And Shayne held him until the trembling subsided, until Charlie could breathe steadily without triggering a shudder inside his lungs.

“Thank you,” Charlie whispered, still not letting go. In fact, he held Shayne even tighter, turning the hug into an embrace that was for both of them, not just him. “I didn’t realise how much I needed this.”

Where Charlie inserted a little extra force, Shayne seemed to let go of some. He let his head sag against Charlie’s shoulder and sighed. “I’m so full, Charlie.”

Once again, the brakes on Charlie’s mind screeched – this time, the surprise was delightfully welcome. He felt goosebumps break out across his body, and a grin split his face, which he buried in his boyfriend’s neck.

He’d completely blanked on the fact that Shayne had just comforted him through all of that while he had a tummy ache. It felt like a tornado of confetti had suddenly ripped through Charlie’s brain. He loved Shayne so much, and almost said so out loud, but realised it might sound a little out of place right now.

Instead, he scratched the back of Shayne’s head and rubbed a circle over his lower back.

“Aw,” Charlie said softly.

Shayen let out a low groan of appreciation.

“Mmph. Sorry.” He shook himself and lifted his head. He kept one hand on Charlie’s side but pulled the other arm towards himself to lightly cradle his stomach. “Are you okay, love?”

“Yeah.” Completely okay, and outrageously normal. Charlie’s nerves fizzed with some delightful cocktail of adrenaline and dopamine and probably a million other things. “I feel so much better now.”

“Really?”

“Promise,” Charlie smiled. “Thank you.”

Shayne’s eyes were still a little glassy, but his frown relaxed a bit. He was taking slow, deep breaths, as though inhaling too sharply would make the pain worse.

“Lie back,” Charlie said. They were both still sitting near the edge of the loveseat, which Charlie realised was unnecessary. He twisted into a comfier position, looping an arm around Shayne’s waist as he joined him.

“Do you feel sick?” he asked, realising that he’d never gotten a proper answer earlier.

Shayne shook his head. “Not sick, but I can feel everything just... sitting there, though.”

His hand was now splayed over his belly, and Charlie couldn’t take his eyes off of it. He couldn’t help himself. It was practically an invitation, right?

He slid his hand across the top of Shayne’s stomach, his heart fluttering as his boyfriend let out a sigh and moved his own hand to the side. Charlie happily smoothed his hand downwards and slipped his fingers beneath Shayne’s jumper and t-shirt, glancing at his face for confirmation that this was okay.

His eyes were shut, and his frown was no deeper than it’d already been.

On the sweeping upward motion, Charlie could feel the extra pressure and tension around and above Shayne’s belly button. Charlie’s hand lingered, and he tried to figure out whether Shayne’s stomach was actually taut and spasming, or if his muscles were just clenching from being touched. But the longer he spent running his fingers back and forth, the more certain he was that Shayne’s tummy was pushing out a little further than it usually did.

Charlie felt a shifting motion under his hand, and a few seconds later, Shayne was turning his head away to let out another low, rumbling burp.

Shit. Charlie had to restrain himself from smiling.

He reckoned he must have still been gazing at him a bit too intensely though, because he instantly frowned when he met Charlie’s eye again.

“I – sorry.” His voice prickled with defensiveness.

“What? Don’t be sorry,” Charlie grimaced. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You’re fine, except your stomach hurts.”

“I – yeah.”

“So not fine,” Charlie pointed out. He let his hand glide a little lower, enjoying the warmth and the softness until it was abruptly cut off by the top of Shayne’s jeans. “You should probably take these off.”

Charlie’s throat clenched as he heard himself a second later. He buried his head against Shayne’s shoulder, still cupping his belly under his shirt.

“Shut up. I know that sounded like such a line."

“Didn’t say anything,” Shayne said.

“What I meant was that you should take your jeans off so they’re not hurting you.”

Shayne narrowed his eyes.

"So... I can get you some of my spare pyjama bottoms..."

“What are you getting at, Charlie?” Shayne's voice was only lightly seasoned with sarcasm.

Charlie rolled his eyes as he lifted his head to look his boyfriend in the eye. “I’m not getting at anything, lovely, except that when you're too full, your tummy can get a little bit bloated... and that’s when you should change into something looser or softer, to keep the pressure off.”

Shayne lowered his head, his mouth tilting into a sulk. Charlie pressed his lips to his cheek, wishing he could kiss away the look of muted discomfort on his boyfriend’s face.

“Hey. It’s completely normal.”

Oh, and really fucking adorable, but let’s not say that part out loud.

Shayne let out a little hum – though whether it was a response to the kiss or the verbal reassurance, Charlie wasn’t sure. His stomach had just gurgled while Charlie had been absentmindedly rubbing a few light circles into it, so maybe he'd just been humming to try to cover that up.

"So, do you want those pyjamas?" Charlie asked quietly.

“Did you actually pack spare pyjamas for a one-night stay?”

Charlie frowned. "Yeah."

“Did you pack some for me?”

“Yeah...” Charlie blushed. “We don’t have our own bathroom here. What if one or both of us needed to pee in the middle of the night? We can’t just wander around the house in our underwear.”

Shayne let his head rest against the back of the loveseat, eyes closed again. “I would have just put my jeans back on, gone to the bathroom, came back, took them off again –”

“No. No. No boyfriend of mine is putting his jeans on at four in the morning," Charlie said. "That...”

Shayne opened his eyes.

“That... goes against my religion." Charlie's voice wavered and he bit back a nervous grin. "What are you staring at me for?”

"Nothing. You're just an idiot sometimes."

"Okay?"

"For not realising how fucking brilliant you are."

Charlie let the grin win. "Okay."

#StW Charlie #StW Shayne #sickfic #stomach ache fic #angst fic #angst #hurt and comfort #hurt comfort #tummy kink #belly rubs #belly rub fic

46 notes · View notes

angstyaches · 7 months

Note

apologies if this is a mischaracterization of him, but "9: a whiny, "Ugh, my tummy hurts..." followed by a huge belch" feels very Charlie-core to me 👀

Ah, the boys 🖤

Word Count: 3,000ish

CW: Shayne's disordered eating and food hang-ups, hunger pains, dizzy/weakness, slight angst but mostly fluff.

___

“Oh, and Charlie!” Ingrid’s voice called out from behind them, all the way back in the kitchen. “Char?”

“Keep walking.” Charlie’s hand closed around Shayne’s arm, tugging him through the doorway and onto the front porch. “Pretend we don’t hear her.”

Shayne frowned. “What?”

“She’s about to tell us five hundred things she needs us to get in the shop. Keep walking.”

As much as he relished catching glimpses of Charlie’s more despicable side, Shayne found it physically difficult not to turn around and wait for whatever Ingrid was going to say. Even when it wasn’t specifically his name she was calling.

In the end, he didn’t have to. As Charlie was unlocking the car, the front door of the house opened again, and Ingrid padded out onto the porch in her fluffy pink slippers.

“Charlie!” she called out, with no idea that her son was purposefully ignoring her.

Charlie’s gaze caught Shayne’s over the bonnet of the car. “Yes, Mum?”

“I need you to pick up some cornflakes, an air freshener for the bathroom – the lavender one, alright? Not the lilac – and some of those…” Ingrid made a gesture through the air, beginning with her fingertips joined and then drawing them apart. “Those long toothpicks.”

Shayne shrugged slowly as Ingrid glanced at him.

“Skewers,” Charlie sighed.

“Skewers.” Ingrid threw Shayne a smile. “Can you boys remember all of that?”

“Yes,” Shayne said.

She blew them a kiss as they climbed into the car. Charlie huffed while he turned on the engine, but Shayne could tell that his boyfriend was clenching his teeth.

He watched in amused disbelief as Charlie reserved Trevor’s car out of the driveway and straightened it up in the direction of the supermarket.

“What?” Charlie asked, double-glancing at Shayne.

“Why are you mad? We’re going to the shop anyway.”

“Yeah, but if she needs that stuff so badly, why couldn’t she go herself?”

“Because… we’re going anyway?”

“That’s not the point,” Charlie said. “Anyway, sorry. Bad mood gone. Hey.”

“Hey,” Shayne said, stomach fluttering. They’d been reunited for about an hour and a half now, but so far, they'd been with Trevor and Ingrid. He wondered if Charlie was also thinking about pulling the car over so they could have a proper hug and maybe a kiss. Wondered if he should suggest it. But no. If Charlie wasn’t suggesting it, he definitely shouldn’t be suggesting it.

The drive to the supermarket was painfully short anyway, considering that the destination was, well, the supermarket. Shayne had been so preoccupied with the thought of being alone in the car with Charlie that he hadn’t given much thought to it, but as soon as its glowing lights and obnoxiously large signage came into view, it felt as though he had absorbed the bad mood that Charlie had so proudly cast off.

“Why do we even need snacks?” Shayne pushed his hands into his pockets as the glare of the supermarket got closer.

He glanced over at Charlie as they walked, probably looking far more anxious than anyone walking into a supermarket had the right to. He could have stayed in the car and waited for Charlie to come back, but he’d missed him, and didn’t want to be separated from him already. He was itching to hold hands, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk getting any extra attention from everyone else.

“What do you mean? Snacks are life!”

Shayne blinked, unsure of what other answer he’d been expecting.

“And I’ve barely eaten today!” Charlie threw Shayne a pointed look. “And I bet you haven’t either. You don’t even have to tell me.”

Shayne returned Charlie’s loaded look with a blank one. Spending most of the day without eating, unsurprisingly, affected Charlie a lot more than it did him, but pointing that out was never a good idea.

“But your parents are… making dinner,” Shayne pointed out instead, using the lowest voice he could manage. Ingrid had gone into great detail about the fajitas they were making, double- and triple-checking that Shayne would be okay with the spice level they'd picked out. At this very second, in fact, she and Trevor would be getting ready to serve them up, with the intention of some of them going in Shayne’s mouth, and the thought made him want to dissolve out of existence.

“Aw, lovely. This has nothing to do with dinner. Snacks perform a completely different task,” Charlie said. “Snacks fill a completely different void. You ever heard of the expression ‘dessert stomach’?”

“No?” Shayne said, resisting the urge to add that he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear of it. He was relieved, however, as Charlie reached over to him and linked their fingers together.

“It’s a phrase people use for when they’re already full but really want dessert. Like they have a whole extra stomach where they can fit dessert,” Charlie grinned. Clearly, this was a concept that delighted him as much as it made Shayne want to crawl into a hole and disappear. “Well, I have a theory that after the regular stomach and the dessert stomach, there’s also a snack void.”

“A snack void,” Shayne repeated numbly.

“Yep.”

“Which means…”

“Which means that no matter how much dinner or how much dessert you eat –” Charlie planted a hand on his belly, one eye twinkling under the glow of the inside lights while the other was shaded by his own face. “There’s still infinite space for snacks. A snack void.”

Shayne raised an eyebrow and glanced to the side, on the lookout for anyone nearby who might be perceiving them. At least he could be thankful that Charlie was rubbing his own stomach, and hadn’t decided to demonstrate using Shayne’s.

“Why… Why do I go out with you in public again?”

“Because you love me,” Charlie hummed, scooping his free arm around Shayne’s waist for a moment as they passed through the automatic doors and into the shop. The palm of his hand briefly grazed Shayne’s stomach as he let go, and Shayne felt an unexpectedly pleasant flicker in his chest.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, tightening his grip on Charlie’s hand. “I suppose you want a basket?”

Charlie scoffed. “Don’t say that with so much disgust! Yes, I want a basket. In fact, let’s get a trolley. I’m feeling lazy.”

___

“Oh, my god, the roast chicken smells so good,” Charlie whispered as they rounded the top of the aisle, bringing the trolley within sight – and scent – of the hot food counter. “I can’t wait for dinner.”

“Mmm,” Shayne said half-heartedly. He didn’t like lingering on the thought of eating the Waters’ food, but he didn’t like glossing over his gratitude to them, either. He felt the need to hold Charlie’s hand again, but Charlie was preoccupied with pushing the trolley.

“God damn it, I’m about to spend way too much money,” Charlie grumbled. They had just turned down the snack aisle, and he was already tossing two tubes of Pringles into the trolley. “This is why they say you shouldn’t shop when you’re hungry.”

“Mmm.”

Charlie looked up at a can that was still on the shelf, and tapped on the round face of the Pringles mascot with one finger. “Mr. Pringle knows what he’s about. Ooh – I wonder if he knows about the snack void. Wonder if he knows it’s been keeping him in business all these years.”

Not for you. Shayne felt a shiver down the back of his neck when he looked too closely at any of the brands on the shelf, so he kept his gaze fixed on the floor, glancing up just frequently enough to avoid looking too awkward. Not for you, not for –

“Lovely?”

Shayne’s head whipped towards Charlie.

“Are you okay?”

Shayne nodded.

Charlie was holding two brightly-coloured packets in his hands. “So, they have sour cola bottles and sour strawberries. Which do you prefer? This feels like something I should already know, I’m sorry…”

Shayne felt an almost painful tingling in his cheeks as he tried to consider Charlie’s question. He swallowed, dreading that he was about to start spouting saliva like he did when he was on a demon’s trail…

A shiver of cold went down the back of his neck, and he swore he heard a sharp, familiar intake of breath –

“Should we just get both?” Charlie shrugged, already gesturing as though to throw both packets into the trolley. “Let’s get both.”

Shayne turned his face away from Charlie and swallowed again. There was a woman at the other side of the aisle, reading the back of a box of cookies. Further down, a couple with a toddler were pointing at chocolate bars and placing a few of them in their basket.

With a flash of panic, Shayne wondered if there was any way these people could tell that his mouth had just started watering at a sealed packet of sweets.

They’re not even looking at you, he screamed inside his head, but it felt like screaming into a void.

“Hey.” Charlie touched the side of Shayne’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“Was I too pushy about the jellies? I’m so ready for dinner at this point, so I think I’m getting a bit impatient.”

Shayne shook his head. “You weren’t pushy, Charlie. I promise.”

“Really?” Charlie’s elbows were resting on the handle of the trolley, and he was looking up at Shayne for a change. “Well, you’ve got that look in your eyes. What are you thinking about?”

Shayne swallowed. “It… probably wouldn’t make sense to you.”

Charlie smiled as he straightened himself just slightly, and started to slowly move the trolley forward with his elbows. “It might still help to say it out loud.”

“I just… I can’t believe so many people are in here, picking out food, in public.” Shayne put a hand against the side of the trolley, partially to help steer it away from the shelves, but partially because touching it while Charlie leaned into it felt a little like holding Charlie’s hand. “Like, they know everyone can see them. They know everyone knows they’re thinking about eating that food, and they just… They don’t care? That doesn’t make them so embarrassed they could just melt into the fucking floor?”

Charlie looked up with a signature expression that used to mean we need to send you to therapy, but which now meant thank fuck you’re in therapy.

“It’s… just stressing me out a little bit.”

“A little bit? You’ve been popping your jaw non-stop since we came in.”

“No, I haven’t.”

Charlie raised his eyebrows.

“No, I fucking haven’t.”

“You don’t even notice you’re doing it anymore?”

Shayne shrugged.

At the end of the aisle, Charlie planted his feet in place. Shayne felt the trolley resisting his pull, and turned around to see his boyfriend’s blonde hair sticking out over his forearms, face buried next to the handlebar.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

Charlie heaved his head up a couple of inches. “I… don’t really feel good all of a sudden.”

Shayne’s heart twisted harshly. He kept the trolley steady with one hand, in case Charlie slumped forward and ended up on his face on the floor, but with the other hand, he cupped the exposed back of Charlie’s neck. He didn’t feel particularly hot, or clammy.

“What…” Stay calm, stay fucking calm. “What feels bad?”

“Everything,” Charlie groaned rather unhelpfully, and Shayne had to fight not to roll his eyes.

“Do you want to just leave everything and get out of here?” Shayne was fully prepared to abandon the trolley in the middle of the aisle if Charlie needed them to.

“Are you crazy?” came a weak protest as Charlie lifted his head. His eyes were delicately shut, as though scrunching his face up at all might upset some unseen balancing act he was performing. “Have I taught you nothing? Snacks are life.”

“Yeah, snacks are life, snack void, etc.,” Shayne agreed, sighing as he slid his hands onto the handlebar. If Charlie was well enough to complain about having no snacks, he was probably well enough to make it to the till and to the car.

___

As soon as he was in the driver’s seat, Charlie lowered his head to the top of the steering wheel. He let out a pinched, drawn-out whine.

Shayne shifted helplessly in his own seat.

Was he coming down with a migraine? Shayne’s own head was spinning slightly from coming out of the harsh overhead lights, so it was possible, if not inevitable.

“Shit,” he whispered. He reached for the back of Charlie’s head again. Considering massaging the back of his neck. Settled for running his fingers below the hairline. “Love, do you have your medicine with you? Are they – are they in your backpack?”

He was ready to get out of the car to retrieve the meds from the back seat; he could even go back into the supermarket and buy something from the freezer to put on the back of Charlie’s neck to relieve the pain –

But before he’d even gotten his seatbelt off, Charlie groaned and shook his head.

“It’s not my head, lovely. Just… I think I just need to eat.”

Shayne blinked, his brain still bogged down by the migraine-relief plan even as Charlie sat back in the driver’s seat, pressing a hand to his belly. Shit. He had mentioned not eating much that day, and Shayne had stupidly brushed it off as unimportant.

“Ugh, my tummy hurts, I –”

A long, strained belch interrupted Charlie mid-whine. His eyes widened as though he were as surprised as anybody, and although he lifted a hand to cover his mouth, he did so after the fact, as though he could grab the sound out of the air and push it back in.

“Oops,” he mumbled behind his palm.

For some reason, Shayne felt the need to look towards the dashboard instead of continuing to look at Charlie’s face. He reached across the seats and felt for the pouch of soft, puckered fabric where Charlie’s hoodie sat against his stomach. Almost immediately, he felt Charlie’s hand on top of his, pressing it into place.

Shayne cleared his throat. “You okay?”

“Mmm.” Shayne couldn’t tell if Charlie was responding yes, or just groaning out of pain. Or relief. Or something else.

“Hungry…?”

“Hungry,” Charlie agreed, dragging Shayne’s hand lightly back and forth. “It feels a little better after that burp, though.”

“I… would imagine so.” Shayne frowned as Charlie reached for his seatbelt. “Are you going to be okay to drive?”

“It’s just a few minutes.”

Shayne didn’t like it, but without knowing how to drive himself, he didn’t have any other solutions to offer. “Okay.”

They were about to pull out of the supermarket car park when Charlie’s phone, nestled in the mounted stand below the dashboard, lit up, displaying the word ‘The Mother’ and a photo of Ingrid in a paper Christmas hat.

“What did she forget?” Charlie mumbled.

Shayne glanced at Charlie’s face and started raising a hand towards the mounted phone.

“No, no, no, don’t answer it.” Charlie took one hand from the wheel to gently nudge Shayne’s back. “We’re on our way home. We’re not going back in.”

Every second that passed without one of them tapping the green icon felt like sandpaper on Shayne’s skin, but he folded his arms and looked out the passenger side window. It was both a relief and a worry when the phone’s buzzing fell into silence.

“Charlie.”

“Yeah, lovely?”

“Are you mad at your mum?”

“No, I just – I mean, yeah, maybe. A little bit.” Charlie sighed. “She… Earlier, the way she was talking to you about dinner –”

Shayne’s heart sank. This was his fault.

“I’ve tried telling her that she needs to be a bit more… tactful about these things, but it’s like she either doesn’t listen to me, or it all just goes out of her head the second you’re in front of her, and it just – it’s frustrating, you know? It doesn’t seem to be that hard for Dad…”

Shayne’s throat tightened. Trevor didn’t unintentionally trigger him because Trevor steered clear of so many topics that it felt like they’d barely spoken to each other the past few visits. Ingrid was bound to stumble into tricky territory, given how much effort she made to make Shayne feel included.

“Love, that’s… that’s my shit to deal with.” Shayne swallowed. His stomach, like every single one of his emotions, was tangled up with gratitude and self-hatred. “I don’t expect other people to make it their shit to deal with.”

Charlie opened his mouth but didn’t say anything. He looked pale and miserable and utterly lost, and Shayne hated that he had contributed to that in any way, just by existing, just by being in his life, just by insisting that he love him and want to keep him close –

“I’m sorry I’m…” Stop. Shayne shook his head at himself, fighting against the voice that told him he was a burden. Dug through the sick feeling in his stomach until he found that flicker of warmth. “Thank you for worrying about me.”

“You’re welcome.” In the scarlet glow of a traffic light, Charlie turned his head and half-smiled. “I’ll ease up on Mum, if that’s what you want. I think I’m especially cranky right now because I’m hungry.”

“That’s fine,” Shayne breathed. He had done much, much worse than ignore a phone call while his mood was being infected with hunger. “I have a question.”

“Mmm?”

“Does everybody have a snack void,” Shayne asked, “or do you have to be, like, some kind of super-elite person to have one?”

“Oh,” Charlie whispered, turning his eyes back to the road as the light turned green. “Interesting…”

#StW Charlie #StW Shayne #hunger fic #hunger kink #stomach kink #tummy kink #burping #burping kink #eructo #eructophilia #hurt comfort #hurt and comfort #sickfic

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angstyaches · 7 months

Note

For the whump/angst prompts n.26 for Charlie and Shayne?

@writing-whump

Ask Game

26. Person A holding Person B while they wait for help to show up

CW: fainting.

Word Count: 100

___

Shayne whimpered, relief pinching at his heart, when he felt Charlie’s fingers clutch weakly at his jacket. He put a hand to Charlie’s head, pressed his face into his hair. “Back with me?”

“Yeah. S-sorry…”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Shayne hissed gently. “You didn’t plan to come out here and faint.”

“I don’t know what’s… wrong with me –”

“Ssshh.” Shayne put his arms around Charlie’s shoulders, cradled him towards his chest. He glanced up the hill, towards the clearing. Still no sign of Elliott, or of Felix coming back. “You just rest, love. We’ll… We’ll get you home soon.”

#StW Charlie #StW Shayne #drabbles #whump drabbles #hurt comfort #hurt and comfort #prompt meme #prompt game

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angstyaches · 5 days

Text

Shayne wearing black nail polish is all well and good, but what about Charlie wearing a different colour on each nail and probably getting gems stuck on too? 💙💛🩷💚🧡

#im really not supposed to be here because it's not good for my MH but #this is giving me serotonin and I thought I'd share on the off chance I'm not the only one lmao #StW Charlie #StW Shayne #OC stuff

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angstyaches · 8 months

Note

Hi Flick, how are you? Happy that you're back 🤠

May I request "what wrong? / your feet are cold" for Shayne and Charlie? I'm not so sure if the list you reblogged was a prompt list, so if not, just disregard this!

Hey, Soup!! I'm totally up for doing some drabbles over the next few days, so thank you for the prompt 🖤

Word Count: 500+

CW: stomach ache, insecurities.

Prompt List

___

“Are y’okay?”

Shayne shivered as he put a hand on the end of the bed, more to steady than guide himself. “Mmm.”

Charlie half-sat up under the duvet. The pillow – and probably an unreasonable amount of drool – had left his hair in little tufts that stood out against the faint glow that made it through the curtain. “Didn’t realise y’were gone, did – did you get sick?”

Despite it being too dark for Charlie to really see him, Shayne shook his head. He crawled back into his side of the bed, too tired, and feeling too heavy, to talk.

“Lovely?”

“No,” Shayne hissed.

Charlie flopped down in bed again, facing the door. “But you’re still’n pain?”

Shayne hesitated, frowning as he pressed the back of his head into his pillow. He knew Charlie was barely half-awake from the way his words were slightly slurred. He also knew Charlie had an early start tomorrow, and those were a nightmare even when he was well-rested. The last thing he needed was to deal with Shayne's nausea and cramps, which, all things considered, were mildly inconvenient at worst.

“Do… d’you want me to rub your tummy, or d’you want to spoon me?” Charlie whispered.

Shayne sighed. How the fuck did Charlie ask something like that as breezily as asking if Shayne wanted coffee or tea?

“Rub or spoon?” Charlie said again, either sleepily or impatiently enough that it would have sounded, to the untrained ear, as though he’d said rubber spoon.

Shayne, having a trained ear, murmured, “Spoon.”

Though he was tempted by the thought of warm hands on his stomach, the option that involved less effort for Charlie was even more inviting.

He rolled gently onto his side and mimicked Charlie’s position.

It felt like something was pressing on his throat as he felt the warmth of Charlie’s back. It was too easy to let himself believe that Charlie was producing all of that body heat for the sole purpose of letting it radiate into Shayne’s chest and stomach. He felt guilty at having such a self-centred thought, even if he knew it was nonsense, and his first instinct was to pull himself even closer to Charlie, as though Charlie’s body could shield him from his own self-criticism.

He looped one leg in between Charlie’s, and Charlie let out a sharp, wobbling whine.

“What?” Shayne demanded, because that had been a whine of displeasure.

A steadying intake of breath. “Nothing.”

Feeling the slightest smack of insult – did Charlie really think so little of Shayne’s knowledge of his various noises? – Shayne slid his hand away from Charlie’s chest, and half-heartedly jabbed him in the side of his stomach. “What’s wrong?”

Charlie giggled weakly and grabbed hold of the offending hand. “Your feet are cold.”

Shayne’s heart dropped, and the pain in his stomach throbbed harder. What had he been thinking, taking up so much of the space surrounding Charlie? He started to slide away, untangling his leg from Charlie’s, peeling his torso away from Charlie’s back –

“No, no, cuddle in closer,” Charlie whispered. He tugged Shayne’s hand towards his chest, drawing him in like a cloak. “I can suck it up for a few minutes until you warm up.”

As he felt Charlie's warmth against his sore stomach again, Shayne also felt the lump returning to the back of his throat.

"'Night," Charlie whispered, drawing Shayne's hand all the way up to his lips and kissing his knuckles, "I love you."

#drabbles #sickfic #hurt comfort #hurt and comfort #stomach ache fic #tummy ache fic #tummy kink #stomach kink #StW Shayne #StW Charlie

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angstyaches · 6 months

Note

i feel like 🐈‍⬛ (superstition) would be really cool for charlie if he said something off-handed and then one of the aldridges was just like “well, yes. obviously.”

Okay, I love this idea! I ended up tweaking it slightly, but I hope you enjoy 🖤 Also, I've been writing too many different Halloweens for these boys so it takes place on Friday the thirteenth instead!

Sick or Treat

CW: emeto, alcohol/drunkenness, superstition, teasing/banter, brief mention of parental death.

___

Charlie hiccupped and triumphantly swallowed back the acidic swell of liquid at the back of his throat. If he was going to vomit – and all signs pointed to yes – he would prefer to do it in the semi-privacy of Shayne’s bathroom, not here on the street in full view of Felix and Elliott.

“How much further?” he whispered, leaning on Shayne’s arm. He apparently didn’t whisper as quietly as he’d thought, though, because a few paces ahead, Felix turned around with an easy smile.

His freckled cheeks were flushed from the alcohol. “A little bit further, bud. You holding up alright?”

Charlie gulped again as he nodded. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to vampires and their extra-sensitive hearing.

“It’ll take even longer,” Shayne complained, staggering slightly as Charlie’s weight overpowered him for a couple of steps, “if you don’t walk in a straight fucking line.”

“Sorry, lovely.”

“It’s… it’s fine.” The nervous double-flutter of Shayne’s dark eyelashes sliced through the drunk, queasy haze in Charlie’s head.

“Mmm,” Charlie hummed, resolved to keeping his head down and walking in as straight a line as possible until they made it back to the townhouse. The part of town they were currently passing through was in need of some TLC, and soon, Charlie found himself taking longer or shorter steps, leaning to one side or the other, to avoid the soles of his shoes touching the cracks in the pavement. Some ran so close together and spread out from the same spot so that they looked like spiderwebs, which sent shivers down his spine.

Shayne groaned, hitching Charlie’s arm a little closer to his body. “The fuck are you doing now? Are you gonna throw up or something?”

“No, I’m just walking.”

“You’re all over the place, love.”

“Look at all the cracks!”

“What?” Shayne asked slowly. “What about them?”

“You know what they say! Step on a crack, break your mother’s back.” Charlie felt a stab of panic a moment after saying it out loud; it probably wasn’t a cool thing to say to someone whose mother was dead. He looked up sheepishly, reckoning he could afford to take his eyes away from the path for just a few seconds.

Shayne just looked confused, though. His pupils were endlessly dark, almost swallowing up the brown rings in his eyes. “Seriously? You’ve never cared about that before.”

Charlie raised his eyebrows. “It’s Friday the thirteenth.”

“So?”

“So, maybe all of that stuff is actually true on Friday the thirteenth.”

“Well, yeah.” Hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers, Elliott turned on his heel and walked backwards for a couple of paces. The whites of his eyes gleamed in the moonlight, and Charlie was filled with the sickening dread as he was about to flash his fangs and everything. “Obviously, it is.”

“Elli,” Felix hissed softly, to which Elliott responded by freeing one hand from its pocket and tapping him on the arm.

“Friday the thirteenth is the reason all of those superstitions exist.” Elliott gave a shrug. “Not a lot of humans know that.”

Charlie always flinched under the way Elliott said the word humans. He never said it in a way that sounded condescending or superior, but he still managed to make Charlie feel like an insect standing by the feet of giants. Nothing so undignified as a maggot or a worm, but perhaps an ant.

Unsure of what to make of any of this, Charlie slowed to a stop so he could look at Shayne without risking a misstep. “Wh-what does that mean, lovely?”

“It means Elliott’s being an asshole,” Shayne said, shrugging a shoulder in Elliott’s direction. “So, you know, business as usual.”

“Hey, you little shit. You think you know better than I do?”

A kind of primal fear coiled in the pit of Charlie’s stomach. People kept emphasising that Ryan was the Elder vampire of her bloodline, that she was the one who’d been around for centuries and had all the answers, but from where Charlie was standing, Elliott appeared just as unshakable, just as timeless, just as… inevitable.

In other words, just as frightening a gateway into the supernatural world as Ryan. So, who could say he didn’t know something the rest of them knew?

Stranger things had happened, after all.

Don’t you think I would know about this? CT wondered idly inside his head; they were always extra quiet, extra sluggish, when Charlie drank alcohol. This was probably for the best, because otherwise, the two would probably start having loud, uninhibited conversations out loud for the world to hear. I am more ancient than the forests –

You can’t even remember what your name was before you met me, Charlie pointed out, to which they sat back in silence again, resigned.

“Elliott, are you being serious?” Charlie demanded.

“Yes,” Elliott said, at the same moment that both Shayne and Felix said, “No.”

“Charlie.” Shayne’s voice had an edge of desperation. “You’re drunk off your fucking face and Elliott’s bullshitting you.”

Charlie shook his head, dropping his gaze to the path again as he started forward. “I-I’m gonna avoid the cracks,” he said, “just to be safe.”

Shayne sighed with exasperation as he was tugged along.

“Do you want me to break my mother’s back?” Charlie demanded.

Somehow, Shayne mustered up an even more passionate sigh. “No, I don’t want you to break Ingrid’s back.”

They forged ahead, until checking for cracks pushed Charlie’s plans of walking in a straight line from ambitious to futile. He felt Shayne’s grip on his arm tighten as he wobbled across the path, the streetlights converging into one dizzying blur.

“Charlie, what’s wrong?”

Charlie pitched forward, spurting out several mouthfuls of dark, foamy vomit into the well-trimmed grass that separated the path from the side of the road. He groaned with relief that the ground would soak up the foul liquid, so that it mightn’t get all over his Converse.

“Love,” Shayne said, and Charlie reached for him with one hand.

“Dizzy.”

“Yeah, no shit, you’re drunk.”

Charlie didn’t have it in him to explain to his boyfriend that he’d been handling his booze just fine until the lines in the path had started to blur before his eyes as he passed them. However, as though he’d cast off a few units of alcohol along with his vomit, his head felt a little clearer.

“Lovely?”

Shayne lightly smoothed a hand over Charlie’s shoulder. “Mmhmm?”

“Elliott was..." Charlie paused to stifle a wet, shallow burp. "... Winding me up, wasn’t he?”

The hand on his shoulder twitched into a grip, just for a few seconds, before it resumed forming a comforting sweeping motion. “Did… Did you figure that out all by yourself, genius?”

#StW Charlie #StW Shayne #StW Elliott #StW Felix #Sick or Treat drabbles #sickfic #emeto #emeto fic #emeto drabbles #sickfic drabbles #OC emeto #OC sickfic

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angstyaches · 2 months

Note

here is a Shayne and Charlie “first line” - asking on anon because for some reason my requests don’t always go through when I use my account, but this is @lisupanddown

“Later, Shayne had to admit that he hadn’t seen this coming, although with as uptight as Charlie had been lately, he probably should have. “ For Charlie getting sick because of stress over some particular (but not huge) issue that he’d been repressing. Only if you want and feel inspired, of course.

Hi, Lis! Thanks so much for the request 🖤 Time for some more Waters family drama!

Word Count: 855

CW: anxiety, emeto, mention of toxic family members.

AO3

___

Later, Shayne had to admit that he hadn’t seen this coming, although with as uptight as Charlie had been lately, he probably should have. Maybe this could have all been dealt with in good time, and not at the last minute.

Charlie’s breath was ragged as he tugged at the suit jacket that he had been wearing for less than two minutes. The seams pulled tight across his shoulders with every retch that had him doubling over.

“Here – I’ve got it.” Shayne reached for the Charlie’s shoulders. Charlie straightened his back and went slack, breathing deeply and shutting his eyes until Shayne got the jacket off. Now he was standing in his shirtsleeves, which Shayne now realised was far from ideal.

But before Shayne could suggest taking the shirt off too, Charlie clutched the back of the toilet and retched another stream of vomit into the bowl.

Shayne went to hang the suit jacket on one of the hangers that didn’t come free of the wardrobe railing. His hands shook, making the task a more prolonged one than it should have been, especially since he could hear Charlie continuing to be sick in the bathroom.

When Shayne got back, Charlie had a hand pressed to his stomach, and Shayne’s gut pulsed with sympathy before he realised that Charlie was holding his tie in place.

Shayne moved a little closer and slipped his hand around Charlie’s waist. Charlie had spent so long getting himself ready, and looked so polished and fancy, that Shayne almost felt as though he shouldn’t touch him and risk wrecking anything.

“Thank you,” Charlie whispered. He leaned forward with his hands on his knees, now that he didn’t have to worry about the tie. He let out a tight, quiet belch, and a groan. “Shit. Are we going to be late?”

“No,” Shayne said, even though he had no idea of the exact time. At least nobody was blowing up Charlie’s phone to say they were waiting in the lobby – yet. He tugged Charlie’s tie up over his shoulder, but still kept one hand on Charlie’s stomach. “Just… take your time. You're fine.”

“I don’t want to go,” Charlie groaned. His body shuddered with a dry retch.

He had said the exact same thing the night before, when they’d been casually discussing how many of Charlie’s unbearable relatives Jonathan had invited to Belle's christening. Shayne had thought that Charlie had just been venting; he hadn’t realised that his anxiety had been this bad.

Shayne looked at the glossy blue and navy pattern on Charlie's tie, held over Charlie's shoulder. Charlie had struggled with it earlier that morning, and had cursed at himself in the mirror and worked himself into a Charlie Two-level rage.

Shayne had kissed him and calmed him down and offered to tie it for him, which Charlie had listlessly agreed to. Shayne had been willing to accept that Charlie would be in a better mood after some breakfast and coffee.

Should have seen it. Shayne's chest felt tight, but he fought the weight of the guilt and tried to focus on what he could do. He knew Charlie wasn’t serious about not going; Shayne knew he couldn’t suggest skipping the church, not without suggesting that Charlie decline being Belle’s godfather. And that would break Charlie’s heart.

“Ugh.” Charlie stood and put his hand on Shayne’s, pressing them both into his tummy. He let out a strangled groan.

“Are you gonna be okay?”

Charlie sighed. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I just wish my stomach would stop doing backflips.”

Shayne let go of Charlie's tie and wrapped Charlie in a hug. Even after being sick, Charlie smelled strongly of aftershave and hair gel.

“Careful – I don’t know how clean my shirt is anymore,” Charlie murmured sadly.

“You’re fine.”

“Mmmm.” Charlie pressed his forehead to Shayne’s shoulder. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I never used to be this stressed about seeing them.”

“I’ll be there, too.”

“I know,” Charlie groaned, as though that weren’t a reassurance, but a complaint. He gestured towards the bed. “If you want to just stay here and avoid dealing with all of them, I’ll understand.”

“Did you throw up your last brain cell? I’m not doing that.”

Charlie nodded. “Just make sure you sit with my mum in the church, okay?”

“’Course,” Shayne said, not only because Charlie had already told him to do so several times. He’d seen how uncomfortable Ingrid got at big Waters family gatherings, and was starting to allow himself to think she appreciated his company.

A buzzing rang out through the room; Charlie had left his phone sitting in front of the TV.

Charlie sniffled as he pulled back from the hug. “Shit.”

“You,” Shayne said, planting his hands on Charlie’s shoulders, “keep getting ready. But take your time.”

Charlie’s gaze wandered towards his phone. “But Jon’s gonna fucking yell at me –”

“I’ll answer it.” Shayne drew a breath. “Let him yell at me.”

“Aw.” A smile cracked through Charlie’s queasy expression. He smoothed down his tie against his belly as Shayne walked away from him. “That’s weirdly romantic.”

#StW Charlie #StW Shayne #emeto #hurt comfort #emeto fic #hurt comfort fic #drabbles #anxiety mention #anxiety fic

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