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perfectworrytitle: Tender Loving Care
verse: Cactus Flower: Jazz Remix
community:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
writerverse + runaway_tales
prompt: Phase #08: Challenge #02: Monthly/Mini Table (unfit for duty) + poached pear #3: sick & tired
word count: 1274
rating: G
pairing: Mariel/Aya
summary: Mariel gets sick and Aya takes care of her. (1)
notes: I've been sick all weekend, so I wrote a collection of sick fics.
Ignoring the ‘Forbidden. No Entry’ sign on the door, Aya Scarlett let herself into Nikos Vallas’s smoky little speakeasy, bringing a blast of cold air inside with her. She shivered, despite her warm fur coat, and hurried to close the door behind her.
“Shop's closed, dame,” Nikos called, by way of greeting, but Aya promptly ignored him and he returned to his preparations for the night, certain that the two lovebirds would exchange their sappy hellos. Mariel turned to see the source of the sudden cold, and her tired eyes lit up when Aya waved to her.
“Oh, Mariel, dear!” she exclaimed, clapping her gloved hands together with delight. “You’re here early! How is it that you always get here before me?” she asked, as she wound her way through the empty floor, tables and chairs unoccupied and sparkling clean, long before the first customers of the evening would appear at the door.
Mariel, still wrapped up in her far too large coat, shrugged her shoulders and gave Aya a little smile.
“An enigma, hm? I like that. You’re very mysterious, aren’t you? It’s quite romantic.” Mariel shrugged again, so Aya continued talking enough for both of them, which suited Mariel just fine. “You look terrible, darling.”
“Why thank you, Miss Scarlett,” said Mariel, her voice scratchy and thin with illness.
“That’s not what I meant,” said Aya, huffing with feigned annoyance. “How are you feeling, dear?”
Mariel shrugged again. Even in the dim light of the speakeasy before it opened for the evening, Aya could see the shadows under Mariel’s eyes, red with tiredness or sickness, and her clothing seemed to hang on her bony frame even more loosely than normal. Aya had spent a lot of time lately noticing how Mariel’s clothes fit, the way her sleeves gathered up at the wrists and her slacks always appeared in danger of slipping off her skinny hips, so she recognized the difference now.
“Let me give you a get well kiss,” said Aya. She leaned forward to kiss Mariel, standing up on her toes, but Mariel extracted one of her hands from the deep coat pockets and blocked her, shaking her head.
Aya frowned. “Now really, Mariel, I thought we were past this,” she said, or tried to say, but Mariel interrupted her with a rattling, deep coughing fit. “Sheik!” cried Aya, no longer offended that Mariel wouldn’t let her kiss her, but suddenly concerned for her sweetheart’s health. “Are you feeling quite the thing? Sit down, love.”
Mariel, for a wonder, sat. She slumped forward, resting her elbows on her knees and looking down at her scuffed up shoes. Aya touched a gloved hand to her cheek, then frowned, pulled off her gloves, and did it again, laying her palm against Mariel’s cheek, and then, still frowning, her wrist against Mariel’s forehead. “Now really, dear! You’re burning up!” she exclaimed.
She stepped closer and hugged Mariel, smoothing her hair. Mariel rested her head against Aya’s shoulder. Even through both of their heavy winter coats, Mariel felt bony and brittle. Aya glared at Nikos as if this were somehow his fault. “Shouldn’t you be at home, shiek? I’m sure Mr. Vallas will give you the evening off, love.” Nikos frowned; he didn’t remember agreeing to that, but sometimes there was no arguing with Aya Scarlett. “Let me hail you a cab, my dear. Do you live nearby? You must, you’re always here! I’ll take you home and make you some tea. Do you have tea at home? I know you prefer coffee, but times like this do call for tea. Or hot chocolate, I suppose.”
Mariel finally managed to get a word in edgewise. Shaking her head, she said, “Really, Miss Scarlett. I’ll be fine. It’s just a little cold.”
“Mariel, now really. You’re as hot as a furnace. You need to get home and rest.” Aya pet ineffectually at Mariel’s hair. Mariel slumped back against her, exhausted and, she had to admit, enjoying Aya's administrations. “Tell me your address, love. I can’t believe I’ve known you this long and I don’t even know where you live!”
Mariel shook her head again. “It isn’t a very nice neighborhood,” she mumbled.
“Oh, darling,” said Aya, “don’t be embarrassed. It’s all right.”
Nikos followed their conversation with renewed interest, even as he worked. He wondered what Mariel would admit to Aya about her current living situation after keeping it a secret from her girlfriend for so long.
“Come on, then,” said Aya, coaxingly. “Tell me where you live, and I’ll go hail a cab.”
“There’s no need,” insisted Mariel, straightening up, although she still looked down at the floor, the wood polished to a perfect shine. Aya frowned, but she shook her head - an action she immediately regretted, as it magnified her headache. She scrunched her eyes shut tight for a moment, then took a deep breath, looked up at Aya and said, “I sleep here.”
“Here?” asked Aya. “In Mr. Vallas’s apartment, you mean?”
Nikos lived above the shop. Mariel shook her head. She looked back down at her feet. “In the back,” she mumbled, pointing over her shoulder towards the storeroom.
“Oh, sheik! Small wonder you’re unwell, Mariel! It’s been so cold, and you have neither a hat nor scarf. Or gloves,” she added, taking Mariel’s hand in her own. Mariel had been about to bite her nails, but Aya stopped her with a frown. Mariel hung her head, and Aya hugged her again, smoothing her hair, letting Mariel rest against her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” asked Aya, her voice softer now. “Sheik. You should have told me. Do you at least have a bed?”
“A cot,” Mariel admitted. “I didn’t want you to worry, Miss Scarlett.”
“Mariel,” said Aya, her voice a little sharp. “Really, I am going to be rather cross. We have talked about this. Let me worry about you, my dear.”
“You worry about me plenty,” said Mariel.
“Yes, well,” said Aya. She shook her head. “Honestly, dear. Let me decide whether to worry or not. I’m most certainly worried now. You can’t sleep back there, or you’ll never get better. Not in this weather, certainly.”
Mariel shrugged again. "Where else do you suppose I should go?" she asked, voice tight. She folded her ams defensively, though Aya tugged at her hands to open her posture again. Her mouth was a thin tight line, and Nikos recognized the prideful look in her eyes.
"Well, my place, of course," said Aya, as though this were obvious.
Mariel started; she had been expecting admonishments to find a bed at the YMCA, as though the thought hadn't already occurred to her. She found herself temporarily at a loss for an argument, and coughed instead. Aya took this as agreement and nudged Mariel towards the door. She paused partway, turning towards Nikos, "Mr. Vallas…?"
"Get out of my sight, Delacroix," said Nikos, cheerfully enough.
"Thank you, Mr. Vallas," Mariel said. She doffed an imaginary hat in his direction and followed Aya out the door.
"Don't come back until you've stopped coughing, Typhoid Mary," called Nikos, as the door swung shut behind Mariel.
She ignored him, shivering in the cold as Aya hailed a cab. She kept one arm around Mariel's waist, and Mariel let herself lean against Aya and be taken care of for the first time since before her husband died.
title: Tender Loving Care
verse: Cactus Flower: Jazz Remix
community:writerverse
prompt: Phase #08: Challenge #02: Monthly/Mini Table (heavily medicated)
word count: 133
rating: G
pairing: Mariel/Aya
summary: Mariel gets sick and Aya takes care of her. (2)
Aya pushed open the door slowly and carefully, holding a steaming hot mug and saucer between her hands. Mariel blinked awake, having fallen asleep even in the short time that Aya had been in the kitchen brewing her tea. She pushed herself upright, a laborious task given that her limbs felt like lead and Aya's was topped with a soft downy mattress.
"I brought you something," said Aya, settling down on the edge of the bed. She placed the teacup down on the nightstand and leaned over Mariel, pressing her wrist to Mariel's forehead with a frown.
Mariel sat under the pile of Aya's blankets and let her girlfriend administer to her. She protested at first, but Aya pointed to the bed imperiously and told Mariel to stop arguing, and Mariel felt too sick and tired not to comply. She let Aya strip off her jacket, belt, shoes and sweater, push her into bed and tuck her in under a heap of warm blankets. Despite herself, Mariel fell asleep almost immediately, only waking up when Aya returned.
Satisfied that Mariel's fever had not risen, at least, Aya handed her the teacup. Mariel wrinkled her nose.
"It's apple vinegar and lemon and ginger," said Aya, a little apologetically. Mariel raised an eyebrow. "My nanny always made it for me when I got sick."
"Did your nanny hate you?" asked Mariel, frowning down at the steaming cup of tea, which wasn't really tea at all.
"Don't be rude," said Aya. She jostled Mariel, but only slightly, not wanting to spill hot apple vinegar all over her blankets. "Drink it before it cools off, or it will be really awful."
"Won't it be anyway?" asked Mariel, but she screwed up her face and sipped it. "Aya, I think I might rather be sick."
"Uh-uh." Aya shook her head. "Finish that up and I'll let you go back to sleep."
Mariel drank it as quickly as possible, sputtering with disgust between long draughts. She set the teacup aside with a sigh of relief.
"Don't make that face at me," said Aya. "I couldn't give you anything in the medicine cabinet, so this will have to do."
Mariel looked away, ashamed. Aya leaned against her shoulder and folded their hands together for a moment before straightening up and smoothing Mariel's hair, which clung damply to her clammy skin. Mariel leaned heavily against Aya, who hugged her tightly for a moment. Mariel shrugged her off gently, and when Aya looked a little hurt and offended, she hurriedly explained, "dear, I don't want to get you sick, too."
"It does such terrible things to one's complexion, being sick. You should rest up so you'll feel better. You look like death." Aya kissed her fingertips, then touched them to Mariel's nose.
Mariel sneezed. "Thank you, Miss Scarlett. How very kind."
"Go to sleep, Mariel," said Aya. She slid off the bed and pulled the blankets up around Mariel's shoulders.
Mariel felt embarrassed to be coddled like a helpless child. At the same time, she couldn't deny that it was nice to sleep in a real bed again and, more importantly, have a relationship with someone who cared about her. More than Aya's pillows or her hot vinegar and honey tea, it was Aya herself that made Mariel feel better as she fell into the deepest sleep she had in months, and woke up the next morning stiff and fuzzy, but her fever had broken sometime in the night.
title: Tender Loving Care
verse: Cactus Flower: Jazz Remix
community:writerverse
prompt: Phase #08: Challenge #17: Weekly Quick Fic #6 (bike ride)
word count: 368
rating: G
pairing: Mariel/Aya
summary: Aya gets sick and Mariel takes care of her.
notes: This fic takes place at least a year after the other two.
Times like these made Mariel glad for her long-ago decision to wear men's clothing instead of women's. She hurried down the stairs, hands jammed in her coat pockets against the cold. She kept her bike locked in the alleyway between two grand buildings, and with stiff fingers, she fumbled with the lock and key for a moment, before she was able to successfully undo the lock on the back tire.
Bunching her too-big coat sleeves up over her hands, she wheeled the bike out onto the street and set off for the chemist's and some medicine for Aya. They never kept any in the house, but Aya had been up all night coughing and Mariel set out in the morning as soon as the chemist would be open for business the following morning, grateful Aya had at least fallen ill on Friday night, not Saturday; on Sunday morning, Mariel would have found all of the shops closed and have to ask for help from either Nikos and Abel, or Mr. and Mrs. Scarlett, and neither thought appealed to her. Not that she wouldn't do it for Aya's well being, but better to climb on her bike first thing in the morning and make a quick trip than to ask any favors.
Mariel pedaled down the street, weaving between the handful of automobiles out at this early hour, most of them still making deliveries. The chilly air bit at her face and hands, but she ignored it.
The chemist's wasn't far, and taking the trip by bicycle made it an even quicker errand.
Inside the shop, she picked up a little brown glass bottle of J Collis Browne, a packet of lozenges, and, because she had a handful of extra change for once, some honey candies. Mariel paid, thanked the chemist, and hurried back home. The cold stung her nose and throat as she went, and once she had locked up her bike again, she tore open the packet of Luden's and popped one in her mouth on the way back up to their apartment, trying to ignore the scratchy feeling prickling in the back of her throat and the dull ache building at the top of her nose.
verse: Cactus Flower: Jazz Remix
community:
writerverse + runaway_tales prompt: Phase #08: Challenge #02: Monthly/Mini Table (unfit for duty) + poached pear #3: sick & tired
word count: 1274
rating: G
pairing: Mariel/Aya
summary: Mariel gets sick and Aya takes care of her. (1)
notes: I've been sick all weekend, so I wrote a collection of sick fics.
Ignoring the ‘Forbidden. No Entry’ sign on the door, Aya Scarlett let herself into Nikos Vallas’s smoky little speakeasy, bringing a blast of cold air inside with her. She shivered, despite her warm fur coat, and hurried to close the door behind her.
“Shop's closed, dame,” Nikos called, by way of greeting, but Aya promptly ignored him and he returned to his preparations for the night, certain that the two lovebirds would exchange their sappy hellos. Mariel turned to see the source of the sudden cold, and her tired eyes lit up when Aya waved to her.
“Oh, Mariel, dear!” she exclaimed, clapping her gloved hands together with delight. “You’re here early! How is it that you always get here before me?” she asked, as she wound her way through the empty floor, tables and chairs unoccupied and sparkling clean, long before the first customers of the evening would appear at the door.
Mariel, still wrapped up in her far too large coat, shrugged her shoulders and gave Aya a little smile.
“An enigma, hm? I like that. You’re very mysterious, aren’t you? It’s quite romantic.” Mariel shrugged again, so Aya continued talking enough for both of them, which suited Mariel just fine. “You look terrible, darling.”
“Why thank you, Miss Scarlett,” said Mariel, her voice scratchy and thin with illness.
“That’s not what I meant,” said Aya, huffing with feigned annoyance. “How are you feeling, dear?”
Mariel shrugged again. Even in the dim light of the speakeasy before it opened for the evening, Aya could see the shadows under Mariel’s eyes, red with tiredness or sickness, and her clothing seemed to hang on her bony frame even more loosely than normal. Aya had spent a lot of time lately noticing how Mariel’s clothes fit, the way her sleeves gathered up at the wrists and her slacks always appeared in danger of slipping off her skinny hips, so she recognized the difference now.
“Let me give you a get well kiss,” said Aya. She leaned forward to kiss Mariel, standing up on her toes, but Mariel extracted one of her hands from the deep coat pockets and blocked her, shaking her head.
Aya frowned. “Now really, Mariel, I thought we were past this,” she said, or tried to say, but Mariel interrupted her with a rattling, deep coughing fit. “Sheik!” cried Aya, no longer offended that Mariel wouldn’t let her kiss her, but suddenly concerned for her sweetheart’s health. “Are you feeling quite the thing? Sit down, love.”
Mariel, for a wonder, sat. She slumped forward, resting her elbows on her knees and looking down at her scuffed up shoes. Aya touched a gloved hand to her cheek, then frowned, pulled off her gloves, and did it again, laying her palm against Mariel’s cheek, and then, still frowning, her wrist against Mariel’s forehead. “Now really, dear! You’re burning up!” she exclaimed.
She stepped closer and hugged Mariel, smoothing her hair. Mariel rested her head against Aya’s shoulder. Even through both of their heavy winter coats, Mariel felt bony and brittle. Aya glared at Nikos as if this were somehow his fault. “Shouldn’t you be at home, shiek? I’m sure Mr. Vallas will give you the evening off, love.” Nikos frowned; he didn’t remember agreeing to that, but sometimes there was no arguing with Aya Scarlett. “Let me hail you a cab, my dear. Do you live nearby? You must, you’re always here! I’ll take you home and make you some tea. Do you have tea at home? I know you prefer coffee, but times like this do call for tea. Or hot chocolate, I suppose.”
Mariel finally managed to get a word in edgewise. Shaking her head, she said, “Really, Miss Scarlett. I’ll be fine. It’s just a little cold.”
“Mariel, now really. You’re as hot as a furnace. You need to get home and rest.” Aya pet ineffectually at Mariel’s hair. Mariel slumped back against her, exhausted and, she had to admit, enjoying Aya's administrations. “Tell me your address, love. I can’t believe I’ve known you this long and I don’t even know where you live!”
Mariel shook her head again. “It isn’t a very nice neighborhood,” she mumbled.
“Oh, darling,” said Aya, “don’t be embarrassed. It’s all right.”
Nikos followed their conversation with renewed interest, even as he worked. He wondered what Mariel would admit to Aya about her current living situation after keeping it a secret from her girlfriend for so long.
“Come on, then,” said Aya, coaxingly. “Tell me where you live, and I’ll go hail a cab.”
“There’s no need,” insisted Mariel, straightening up, although she still looked down at the floor, the wood polished to a perfect shine. Aya frowned, but she shook her head - an action she immediately regretted, as it magnified her headache. She scrunched her eyes shut tight for a moment, then took a deep breath, looked up at Aya and said, “I sleep here.”
“Here?” asked Aya. “In Mr. Vallas’s apartment, you mean?”
Nikos lived above the shop. Mariel shook her head. She looked back down at her feet. “In the back,” she mumbled, pointing over her shoulder towards the storeroom.
“Oh, sheik! Small wonder you’re unwell, Mariel! It’s been so cold, and you have neither a hat nor scarf. Or gloves,” she added, taking Mariel’s hand in her own. Mariel had been about to bite her nails, but Aya stopped her with a frown. Mariel hung her head, and Aya hugged her again, smoothing her hair, letting Mariel rest against her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” asked Aya, her voice softer now. “Sheik. You should have told me. Do you at least have a bed?”
“A cot,” Mariel admitted. “I didn’t want you to worry, Miss Scarlett.”
“Mariel,” said Aya, her voice a little sharp. “Really, I am going to be rather cross. We have talked about this. Let me worry about you, my dear.”
“You worry about me plenty,” said Mariel.
“Yes, well,” said Aya. She shook her head. “Honestly, dear. Let me decide whether to worry or not. I’m most certainly worried now. You can’t sleep back there, or you’ll never get better. Not in this weather, certainly.”
Mariel shrugged again. "Where else do you suppose I should go?" she asked, voice tight. She folded her ams defensively, though Aya tugged at her hands to open her posture again. Her mouth was a thin tight line, and Nikos recognized the prideful look in her eyes.
"Well, my place, of course," said Aya, as though this were obvious.
Mariel started; she had been expecting admonishments to find a bed at the YMCA, as though the thought hadn't already occurred to her. She found herself temporarily at a loss for an argument, and coughed instead. Aya took this as agreement and nudged Mariel towards the door. She paused partway, turning towards Nikos, "Mr. Vallas…?"
"Get out of my sight, Delacroix," said Nikos, cheerfully enough.
"Thank you, Mr. Vallas," Mariel said. She doffed an imaginary hat in his direction and followed Aya out the door.
"Don't come back until you've stopped coughing, Typhoid Mary," called Nikos, as the door swung shut behind Mariel.
She ignored him, shivering in the cold as Aya hailed a cab. She kept one arm around Mariel's waist, and Mariel let herself lean against Aya and be taken care of for the first time since before her husband died.
title: Tender Loving Care
verse: Cactus Flower: Jazz Remix
community:
writerverse prompt: Phase #08: Challenge #02: Monthly/Mini Table (heavily medicated)
word count: 133
rating: G
pairing: Mariel/Aya
summary: Mariel gets sick and Aya takes care of her. (2)
Aya pushed open the door slowly and carefully, holding a steaming hot mug and saucer between her hands. Mariel blinked awake, having fallen asleep even in the short time that Aya had been in the kitchen brewing her tea. She pushed herself upright, a laborious task given that her limbs felt like lead and Aya's was topped with a soft downy mattress.
"I brought you something," said Aya, settling down on the edge of the bed. She placed the teacup down on the nightstand and leaned over Mariel, pressing her wrist to Mariel's forehead with a frown.
Mariel sat under the pile of Aya's blankets and let her girlfriend administer to her. She protested at first, but Aya pointed to the bed imperiously and told Mariel to stop arguing, and Mariel felt too sick and tired not to comply. She let Aya strip off her jacket, belt, shoes and sweater, push her into bed and tuck her in under a heap of warm blankets. Despite herself, Mariel fell asleep almost immediately, only waking up when Aya returned.
Satisfied that Mariel's fever had not risen, at least, Aya handed her the teacup. Mariel wrinkled her nose.
"It's apple vinegar and lemon and ginger," said Aya, a little apologetically. Mariel raised an eyebrow. "My nanny always made it for me when I got sick."
"Did your nanny hate you?" asked Mariel, frowning down at the steaming cup of tea, which wasn't really tea at all.
"Don't be rude," said Aya. She jostled Mariel, but only slightly, not wanting to spill hot apple vinegar all over her blankets. "Drink it before it cools off, or it will be really awful."
"Won't it be anyway?" asked Mariel, but she screwed up her face and sipped it. "Aya, I think I might rather be sick."
"Uh-uh." Aya shook her head. "Finish that up and I'll let you go back to sleep."
Mariel drank it as quickly as possible, sputtering with disgust between long draughts. She set the teacup aside with a sigh of relief.
"Don't make that face at me," said Aya. "I couldn't give you anything in the medicine cabinet, so this will have to do."
Mariel looked away, ashamed. Aya leaned against her shoulder and folded their hands together for a moment before straightening up and smoothing Mariel's hair, which clung damply to her clammy skin. Mariel leaned heavily against Aya, who hugged her tightly for a moment. Mariel shrugged her off gently, and when Aya looked a little hurt and offended, she hurriedly explained, "dear, I don't want to get you sick, too."
"It does such terrible things to one's complexion, being sick. You should rest up so you'll feel better. You look like death." Aya kissed her fingertips, then touched them to Mariel's nose.
Mariel sneezed. "Thank you, Miss Scarlett. How very kind."
"Go to sleep, Mariel," said Aya. She slid off the bed and pulled the blankets up around Mariel's shoulders.
Mariel felt embarrassed to be coddled like a helpless child. At the same time, she couldn't deny that it was nice to sleep in a real bed again and, more importantly, have a relationship with someone who cared about her. More than Aya's pillows or her hot vinegar and honey tea, it was Aya herself that made Mariel feel better as she fell into the deepest sleep she had in months, and woke up the next morning stiff and fuzzy, but her fever had broken sometime in the night.
title: Tender Loving Care
verse: Cactus Flower: Jazz Remix
community:
writerverse prompt: Phase #08: Challenge #17: Weekly Quick Fic #6 (bike ride)
word count: 368
rating: G
pairing: Mariel/Aya
summary: Aya gets sick and Mariel takes care of her.
notes: This fic takes place at least a year after the other two.
Times like these made Mariel glad for her long-ago decision to wear men's clothing instead of women's. She hurried down the stairs, hands jammed in her coat pockets against the cold. She kept her bike locked in the alleyway between two grand buildings, and with stiff fingers, she fumbled with the lock and key for a moment, before she was able to successfully undo the lock on the back tire.
Bunching her too-big coat sleeves up over her hands, she wheeled the bike out onto the street and set off for the chemist's and some medicine for Aya. They never kept any in the house, but Aya had been up all night coughing and Mariel set out in the morning as soon as the chemist would be open for business the following morning, grateful Aya had at least fallen ill on Friday night, not Saturday; on Sunday morning, Mariel would have found all of the shops closed and have to ask for help from either Nikos and Abel, or Mr. and Mrs. Scarlett, and neither thought appealed to her. Not that she wouldn't do it for Aya's well being, but better to climb on her bike first thing in the morning and make a quick trip than to ask any favors.
Mariel pedaled down the street, weaving between the handful of automobiles out at this early hour, most of them still making deliveries. The chilly air bit at her face and hands, but she ignored it.
The chemist's wasn't far, and taking the trip by bicycle made it an even quicker errand.
Inside the shop, she picked up a little brown glass bottle of J Collis Browne, a packet of lozenges, and, because she had a handful of extra change for once, some honey candies. Mariel paid, thanked the chemist, and hurried back home. The cold stung her nose and throat as she went, and once she had locked up her bike again, she tore open the packet of Luden's and popped one in her mouth on the way back up to their apartment, trying to ignore the scratchy feeling prickling in the back of her throat and the dull ache building at the top of her nose.
