so last night could have gone better

[skoosiepants]

Just when we were settling down to catch the encore pilot ep of that Terminator show, Roxy decides to eat Chewie. I mean, they fought over a bone, but Chewie's smaller than our cats, and Roxy kind of wanted to kill her. I'm not going to lie, it was possibly the scariest thing ever, oh my god. We ended up at the emergency vet for about three hours; Chewie's got a puncture wound on her throat and one just under her eye, which LUCKILY didn't cause any corneal damage. We kept Roxy downstairs and slept with Chew-bear snuggled up to us under the covers. Roxy, of course, doesn't remember a thing, and couldn't understand why she couldn't sniff and nudge Chewie around, and Chewie was terrified of her for about four hours this morning, but J called around noon and said they were playing together again. They no longer get bones, ever ever. I've still got this horrible sick feeling in my gut, because it's not like we can ever get rid of Roxy, because they'd put her to sleep, and Chewie is my baby girl and I can't live without her.

Poor Moose had no idea what was going on. He was following me around the house last night, and he usually just ignores me if I don't have his food.

So, okay. Take my mind off of stuff with drabbles? I want Zack stories. And stories about Joe. Or anything that involves cuddling and/or hurt/comfort.

Comments

[skoosiepants.livejournal.com]

Oh nos, that link is locked!! *sits on hands and waits*

[pixie_pan.livejournal.com]

Aww, man, I'm so sorry! I didn't even look!

Okay, home from work now. I'll c/p that one for now, and when I've finished checking my mailnstuff I'll scribble something out for you!

-

Frank felt like shit. His throat felt like somebody had taken sandpaper to it and attached razor blades to his tonsils. He nose was blocked, making it hard for him to breath. His eyes were stinging and itchy, like the worst case of hayfever ever. His head was pounding and felt so full that it would surely explode. It already felt ten sizes too big for the rest of his body.

But the worst part of it all was the dryness.

No matter how much he drank – and god did it hurt to swallow the water, the peppermint tea, the juice – he just couldn't get hydrated. His head was a desert. An exploding, swollen desert. Frank was fucking miserable.

The curtain of his bunk was pushed aside and Frank winced and buried his face in the pillow as the light and sound intruded.

"Frank."

Gerard. A soft low voice, no doubt ready to offer more peppermint tea or juice, or to refill Frank’s water bottle. Or maybe he'd try to take his temperature again, or talk about seeing a doctor. Frank didn’t care why he was here. He had plenty of water left, not that it was helping, and the juice and tea weren’t helping. He did not need to see a doctor, it was just a fucking cold and so help him, if Gerard tried to stick that thermometer under his tongue one more time, Frank would smack him. Just as soon as he could lift his arm.

But Gerard didn't speak again, just crawled into the bunk beside Frank and pulled the curtain closed. Frank wanted to explain that he was hot and sweaty and didn't need to share his bunk, thank you very much, but then Gerard was stroking his hair and rubbing his back and making soothing noises. And suddenly it didn’t matter that Frank was sore and explodey and dry. Because he had Gerard.

Frank swallowed, and fuck that hurt, but he forced his throat to give sound to the words his cracked, dry lips were forming.

"Love you, Gee."

"Love you too, Frankie. Now shut the fuck up and go back to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

Being sick was bearable, Frank decided as he drifted into oblivion. As long as he had Gerard.

[skoosiepants.livejournal.com]

oh my god, this is sooooooo adorable and sweet!