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The sound of coughing followed by a splash is what woke Asmodeus in the middle of the night, but the whimper that followed and accompanying realization that his chest was one clown lighter had Asmodeus sitting upright in an instant.
“Fizzy?”
The response almost sounds like a sob, but it’s cut off with a gasp, a burp, and another splash. Asmodeus commands the lights in the room to turn on, but dims them when he notices how Fizzarolli flinched at the light’s full brightness.
The figure curled on the edge of Ozzie’s bed is Fizzarolli sized, even shaped like Fizzarolli and wearing his bedtime horns, but Asmodeus doesn’t want his figure to actually be his partner. He’s turned away from Ozzie but the Sin doesn’t have to see his face to know that something is very wrong. Fizzarolli is curled up in himself, his knees pressed tightly to his middle and his tail wrapped protectively around his stomach. His arms are crossed around his middle too. When Asmodeus looks closer, he can see that Fizz is shaking.
“Fizz…” Ozzie’s hand reaches out to rub Fizzarolli’s back. His whole body is warm, too warm. A layer of sweat covered his body, making his pajamas cling uncomfortably in the most awkward places. Asmodeus noted how Fizz eased at his touch, though. His hand stayed in place. It rubbed gentle circles along Fizz’s back. After several seconds, the smallest, froggiest voice spoke up.
“I don’t feel good….”
His voice was quiet but the statement was loud. Asmodeus’s already knew that Fizz wasn’t feeling great, but the admission made his chest flooded with worry anyway. Fizzarolli didn't often admit to weakness. The Sin carefully roused from his bed so that he could better assess the situation.
“Oh, baby” Ozzie’s voice was gentle and quiet. No shame or malice floated through the air. Only gentle concern. So gentle, it nearly stung once making it to Fizzarolli’s ears. He wasn’t so accustomed to this type of compassion.
The view from Fizz’s side of the bed wasn’t terribly pretty. Fizzarolli was ashen and trembling, curled on his side with his head nearly hanging off the side of the bed. Vomit dripped from the side of the mattress and spilled down multiple steps leading up to the bed frame. Ozzie could still pick out traces of Fizzarolli’s dinner in it, he hadn’t digested much at all. Asmodeus wondered how long he’d been feeling ill for. Fizzarolli’s eyes were closed and closed tightly. He was trying so hard not to cry.
“Hey now,” Asmodeus’s hand finds Fizzarolli’s flushed cheek and cradles it gently. His thumb wipes away the tears that begin to fall. “It’s okay, Froggy. You’re alright. Hey, try not to cry now. You don’t want to dehydrate.”
Fizzarolli bit his lip and whimpered. The poor thing looked miserable.
“I’m sorry!” As if any of this was Fizzarolli’s fault. Asmodeus feels himself soften even more.
“Sorry for what, the mess? Baby, messes happen. You know I’m not afraid of a little clean up.” As if to prove his point, Oz reaches for a drawer hidden under his bed and grabs a few towels to start getting rid of the evidence.
Fizz is curled into himself even tighter when Asmodeus looks back up at him. Lust sighs. How can he be focused on mopping when Fizzarolli is so miserable?
“Are you able to move? I think everything might feel a bit better after a nice shower.” Asmodeus had to be patient, he had to be gentle. He placed his hand palm up on the mattress next to Fizzarolli. He waited and watched as Fizz slowly uncurled himself, not fully though. His tail remained wrapped around his middle with the spade pointing out as if to defend himself. Eventually, Fizzarolli’s eyes opened. They were glassy and dull, but Asmodeus was happy to see them. His hand reached out and grabbed Ozzie’s, their signal that they could move along.
“Alright, then.” Asmodeus was careful in picking Fizz up. He didn’t want to hurt him, he didn’t want to make things worse. He flinched when Fizzarolli whimpered, but tucked him safely against his chest and calmed down as Fizzarolli seemed to settle comfortably there.
“Will you be alright for a few minutes?” Fizzarolli was sitting on the counter top next to the sink in Asmodeus’s bathroom suite. His back was pressed against the wall as sitting upright alone was far too difficult. He was curled up in a tight ball with a plush towel wrapped around him like a blanket. He was still shivering. Ozzie didn’t really want to leave him, but he needed to get the bedroom clean and Fizzarolli needed to put on his shower horns. He still wasn’t comfortable with Ozzie seeing him without a hat.
Fizzarolli nodded. His eyes were focused straight ahead, not on Ozzie and his lips were pressed in a thin line. Asmodeus worried about how the jester was handling the short move, but he listened to the Fizz and let him be.
“I’ll just be in the next room if you need anything.”
When Asmodeus returned, Fizzarolli had changed into his shower horns. He still kept the towel wrapped over his shoulders but he was no longer leaning against the backsplash. Instead, Fizz was sitting crisscross in front of the large basin sink with his head resting against the edge. His eyes were heavily lidded, Ozzie could tell he was focusing on his breathing.
“Sorry” Fizzarolli mumbled. The act itself made him gag and the jester winced as he really tried not to puke in Lust’s sink.
Asmodeus headed towards the large bathtub that sat center the bathroom suite and began running the water. It needed to be warm, so that it wasn’t a shock to Fizz’s skin, but not so warm that it encouraged the fever to grow. “It’s not your fault you’re sick, Fizzy.” When Asmodeus found the right temperature he returned back to the sink where Fizzarolli was sitting. His hand rubbed along Fizz’s back. “I’m just sorry you’re feeling so unwell.”
Fizzarolli burped and spat, but he didn’t get sick. When he felt confident enough again, he stood up, shimmied out of his pajamas and curled up into Lust’s arms once more.
“It’s gross” Fizz flinched as they first entered the tub. Asmodeus had turned the rain shower on. The first drops to hit his skin felt like electric fire, but as more and more fell and as Ozzie’s hands kept him safe and secure, the sensation became less surprising and more soothing.
“A lot of things are gross, babe. You are not one of them.” Fizzarolli smiled at the compliment. “Just try and relax. The shower will help.” Asmodeus really hoped it would help. He was a Sin, he wasn’t accustomed to sickness and this was the first time he’d seen Fizzarolli this ill before. He wasn’t entirely sure how to help. He’d cleaned up Fizz’s sick and sent one of his staff to change the bed sheets while they showered, another was sent to get medicines. He assumed his succubi would know what Fizzarolli would need.
The water did seem to help. Being able to lay in Ozzie’s arms seemed to help. The sweat and grime was washed off of his body with neutral smelling soap and strong blue hands that helped Fizzarolli feel safe. He was able to listen to the other’s heartbeat and feel his chest rise and fall with his breathing. When Asmodeus hummed, Fizzarolli could feel it.
That didn’t stop his stomach from cramping again not much later. Asmodeus could tell by the way Fizz’s arms started guarding his stomach again, the way his lips closed pressed together. When Fizzarolli whimpered again, Asmodeus knew what was likely going to happen.
Fizzarolli’s eyes pressed together tightly, he hated the feeling just before getting sick. His fist pressed to his mouth and he gagged.
“Breathe” Asmodeus reminded Fizzarolli. “It’s okay.”
But it wasn’t okay. Fizz couldn’t stop gagging. Not until he’d been sick again. This time with more than just Ozzie’s bed as the victim; Fizzarolli had just gotten sick on Lust himself. They’d made plenty of other messes, sure. But those had been planned, consensual. This wasn’t, and it was both embarrassing and terrifying for the imp. “Fuck” Fizzarolli could barely catch his breath before he was gagging and getting sick again.
Asmodeus continued to hold onto Fizzarolli tightly. He was afraid that if he didn’t, the man would fall out of his arms on his own accord. He was barely able to hold himself upright. “You’re fine,” Asmodeus wasn’t sure who he was reminding more, Fizzarolli or himself, but he continued with the reassurances. “It’s alright. See? The water’s washing it away. You just let your body do what it needs to, I’ll be right here.”
Asmodeus thinks Fizzarolli starts crying because he’s hurting, and focuses even more of his attention on finding ways to keep Fizz comfortable. Fizzarolli’s actually crying because he hasn’t scared Ozzie away. I’m here was reverberating through his mind, and it was reaffirmed with every careful touch and reassurance Ozzie gave to him.
Fizz got sick twice more before their shower was over. Nothing but bile was coming up and Fizzarolli was exhausted. Ozzie left to let Fizz change back into his nighttime horns, but had to help Fizzarolli get dried off and changed into new pajamas. He carried him back to their bed and nuzzled his forehead against Fizz’s when they got settled.
“I think you should try to take some medicine. You’re still pretty warm.” Fizzarolli groaned and hid in Ozzie’s shoulder. “Okay, too big of a task. Can we try a sip of water?”
When Fizzarolli manages to keep water down for a good ten minutes or so, he decides that he can try the pills Ozzie is offering him. They’re supposed to help with the fever and Fizz absolutely detests how even the satin sheets feel scratchy against his skin.
“And what happens if these don’t stick?” Fizz worried after swallowing the two. He couldn’t tell if the feeling in his stomach was worry or illness.
“Then they don’t stick. We try again another time.” Fizzarolli still didn’t look too comforted by the idea. “I’ve got towels in my side drawer if you make a mess, and these convenient little bags you can be sick in if you have to.”
Fizzarolli only lasted a few minutes before reaching for one of the bags. Asmodeus rubbed his back as Fizz retched up three sips of water and some pills. He made a note to arrange for a house call tomorrow if Fizz was still like this in the morning. He took the sick bag when Fizzarolli was done and made it disappear into thin air. He didn’t want either of them to have to sit with the memory.
Fizzarolli didn’t apologize for getting sick the final time. Perhaps it was exhaustion, maybe his throat was just too sore to try and speak, or perhaps he’d finally accepted that he was okay to be himself, gross sickness and all. Maybe Fizzarolli didn’t have to worry anymore. Asmodeus was right there.