Categories > Original > Romance
The Sniffles
0 reviewsAddy becomes ill from dancing in the rain. Part of my Feel That Fire series.
0Unrated
Title: The Sniffles
Author: Allison Wonderland
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Addy becomes ill from dancing in the rain.
Warning(s): Language, transgender issues, slash, mild incest.
Disclaimer: Mine.
Word Count: ~1210
Note(s):
~*~
She’s sick.
As they cross into Kentucky the next morning she’s curled up against the passenger side door, her thumb in her mouth, her Chrissie doll in her arms, and Kyle’s leather jacked wrapped around her. When Kyle stops at a McDonalds drive through on the outskirts of Louisville Addy will not answer when he shakes her awake and asks what she wants. Even after he gets her chicken nuggets and French fries she refuses to eat them although they are her favorites. She finishes her Coke and curls up under his jacket again. Kyle finishes his double cheeseburgers and Addy’s chicken nuggets too then rests his right hand on her bare foot – the only part of her he can reach – while he uses his left to steer. Addy curls her bare toes against his finger and he feels her relax back into sleep as he sings along with Toby Keith on the radio.
~*~
Sniff.
Addy is awake.
Sniff.
From the corner of his eye Kyle watches her rub at her nose. The same hand rubs her eyes and they finally open. Kyle turns his attention back to the highway stretched out in front of the truck. Addy is silent. She sucks her thumb and stares out the window. “Feel better, baby girl?” he asks, glancing at her again. She is still curled up against the door, huddled beneath his old leather jacket and looking thoroughly miserable.
“No.” Addy’s voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. Not only does she not sound better, she sounds worse. She rubs her eyes, wishing she had not woken up just yet. Her headache is worse now; it hurts not only right between her eyes but all the way across her forehead and down her nose. It does not just hurt, it feels – and she doubts she can really explain the feeling to Kyle – as if someone has buried her in cotton balls and she has to breathe through them.
“C’mere,” Kyle holds out one arm in Addy’s direction and she brings her brother’s jacket with her as she slides across the scarred leather seat to snuggle against his side. “There,” he says, “is that better?”
“No.” Sniff. Ssnnniifffffff. Whimper. Her nose feels better but her head is suddenly feeling worse, not to mention her throat.
Addy is a warm little weight against Kyle’s side and his hand creeps beneath the jacket she is using as a blanket and under the little red tee shirt beneath that to rest on her stomach. She presses closer and he begins to move his hand in little circles over her skin. It makes her feel better when she is complaining her tummy hurts and seems to comfort her even now because she relaxes against him and starts to suck her thumb again.
Addy lets her heavy eyelids slip down. She is exhausted and her whole body aches so badly she wants to fall back into the beautiful, painless oblivion of sleep. Kyle’s hand rubbing her stomach feels nice but it is not enough, she wishes they could stop somewhere so she can crawl into his lap, even if it is only for a minute or two.
As if he is thinking the same thing she feels Kyle slow the truck, turn, and then they stop all together. She opens her eyes and peeks out the windshield, expecting to see another cheap motel. Instead they are parked in front of a 7-11 and she has a sudden desire for a giant size cherry slurpee.
Kyle’s arm around her gives her a last squeeze and even that hurts. “Time for a break, baby girl,” he tells her.
“But Kyle,” she whines. “Why?” Then something else occurs to her. “We just got gas yesterday.”
“Not for gas. I gotta pee and I’m gonna get ya some NyQuil.”
Addy likes NyQuil. It makes her sleepy and by the time she wakes up she always feels better. “’Kay,” she murmurs.
“Go pee or whatever but hurry up.” Kyle wants to find a little town with a cheap motel as soon as he can even though it’s just past 1:30 in the afternoon. Addy is obviously ill and even though it’s probably her own fault from dancing in the rain last night. Kyle feels guilty too because he let her eat the whole bag of Twizzlers Pull ‘N’ Peel that gave her that particular sugar high. Stopping early so she can sleep in a real bed will probably be better for her than sleeping in the truck.
“I don’t have to,” Addy lies. She does have to pee but she does not want to get out of the truck and go inside.
“Are you sure?” Kyle opens the door and slides out despite Addy’s fingers clutching at him.
She nods.
“Pee in my truck again and the next time we stop it’s gonna be to buy pull-ups.” Addy had worn pull-ups to bed until she was twelve and even after that there were still occasional accidents but lately – ever since leaving home right before the start of what would have been her freshman year of high school – things have gotten worse and Addy has been wetting the bed a few times a week instead of a few times a month. Kyle is pretty sure it is just the stress of rarely being in the same place two days at a time but he is starting to get worried.
“’Kay,” Addy says and her voice is almost a whisper.
Kyle softens because he knows she is not feeling well. “Do you want anything?” he asks. “M&M’s?” M&M’s are Addy’s favorites.
“Not hungry.”
“Some water? Or a Coke?”
She shakes her head.
“Anything?”
Addy hesitates. She really wants a big frozen cherry drink but Kyle has already made it known – a long time ago – that those are off limits because they make her pee a lot more than she normally has to and he hates trying to find a bathroom every five minutes when they are on the road.
“Ya want one of those cherry things, doncha?” he asks as if he can read her mind.
Addy nods tentatively.
“Guess it’s all right this once,” Kyle tells her. “We’re stoppin’ soon as I find a motel anyhow.” Besides, as ill as Addy seems to be, whatever bed they end up sleeping in tonight is unlikely to make it through the night dry. “Be back in a minute,” he adds.
Addy jumps when Kyle slams the door shut. She watches him walk into the building and stretches out full length across the truck stat. She is not comfortable. Her doll had fallen on the floor while she was sleeping earlier and in her current position she can barely curl her fingers around its foot to pull it on the seat with her. Once she has it she hugs it close to her chest, drags Kyle’s leather jacket over herself, and starts to suck her thumb again. That feels better. She yawns and her eyes drift shut. Her head aches and her throat is sore and she is just…so…tired…
Author: Allison Wonderland
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Addy becomes ill from dancing in the rain.
Warning(s): Language, transgender issues, slash, mild incest.
Disclaimer: Mine.
Word Count: ~1210
Note(s):
~*~
She’s sick.
As they cross into Kentucky the next morning she’s curled up against the passenger side door, her thumb in her mouth, her Chrissie doll in her arms, and Kyle’s leather jacked wrapped around her. When Kyle stops at a McDonalds drive through on the outskirts of Louisville Addy will not answer when he shakes her awake and asks what she wants. Even after he gets her chicken nuggets and French fries she refuses to eat them although they are her favorites. She finishes her Coke and curls up under his jacket again. Kyle finishes his double cheeseburgers and Addy’s chicken nuggets too then rests his right hand on her bare foot – the only part of her he can reach – while he uses his left to steer. Addy curls her bare toes against his finger and he feels her relax back into sleep as he sings along with Toby Keith on the radio.
~*~
Sniff.
Addy is awake.
Sniff.
From the corner of his eye Kyle watches her rub at her nose. The same hand rubs her eyes and they finally open. Kyle turns his attention back to the highway stretched out in front of the truck. Addy is silent. She sucks her thumb and stares out the window. “Feel better, baby girl?” he asks, glancing at her again. She is still curled up against the door, huddled beneath his old leather jacket and looking thoroughly miserable.
“No.” Addy’s voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. Not only does she not sound better, she sounds worse. She rubs her eyes, wishing she had not woken up just yet. Her headache is worse now; it hurts not only right between her eyes but all the way across her forehead and down her nose. It does not just hurt, it feels – and she doubts she can really explain the feeling to Kyle – as if someone has buried her in cotton balls and she has to breathe through them.
“C’mere,” Kyle holds out one arm in Addy’s direction and she brings her brother’s jacket with her as she slides across the scarred leather seat to snuggle against his side. “There,” he says, “is that better?”
“No.” Sniff. Ssnnniifffffff. Whimper. Her nose feels better but her head is suddenly feeling worse, not to mention her throat.
Addy is a warm little weight against Kyle’s side and his hand creeps beneath the jacket she is using as a blanket and under the little red tee shirt beneath that to rest on her stomach. She presses closer and he begins to move his hand in little circles over her skin. It makes her feel better when she is complaining her tummy hurts and seems to comfort her even now because she relaxes against him and starts to suck her thumb again.
Addy lets her heavy eyelids slip down. She is exhausted and her whole body aches so badly she wants to fall back into the beautiful, painless oblivion of sleep. Kyle’s hand rubbing her stomach feels nice but it is not enough, she wishes they could stop somewhere so she can crawl into his lap, even if it is only for a minute or two.
As if he is thinking the same thing she feels Kyle slow the truck, turn, and then they stop all together. She opens her eyes and peeks out the windshield, expecting to see another cheap motel. Instead they are parked in front of a 7-11 and she has a sudden desire for a giant size cherry slurpee.
Kyle’s arm around her gives her a last squeeze and even that hurts. “Time for a break, baby girl,” he tells her.
“But Kyle,” she whines. “Why?” Then something else occurs to her. “We just got gas yesterday.”
“Not for gas. I gotta pee and I’m gonna get ya some NyQuil.”
Addy likes NyQuil. It makes her sleepy and by the time she wakes up she always feels better. “’Kay,” she murmurs.
“Go pee or whatever but hurry up.” Kyle wants to find a little town with a cheap motel as soon as he can even though it’s just past 1:30 in the afternoon. Addy is obviously ill and even though it’s probably her own fault from dancing in the rain last night. Kyle feels guilty too because he let her eat the whole bag of Twizzlers Pull ‘N’ Peel that gave her that particular sugar high. Stopping early so she can sleep in a real bed will probably be better for her than sleeping in the truck.
“I don’t have to,” Addy lies. She does have to pee but she does not want to get out of the truck and go inside.
“Are you sure?” Kyle opens the door and slides out despite Addy’s fingers clutching at him.
She nods.
“Pee in my truck again and the next time we stop it’s gonna be to buy pull-ups.” Addy had worn pull-ups to bed until she was twelve and even after that there were still occasional accidents but lately – ever since leaving home right before the start of what would have been her freshman year of high school – things have gotten worse and Addy has been wetting the bed a few times a week instead of a few times a month. Kyle is pretty sure it is just the stress of rarely being in the same place two days at a time but he is starting to get worried.
“’Kay,” Addy says and her voice is almost a whisper.
Kyle softens because he knows she is not feeling well. “Do you want anything?” he asks. “M&M’s?” M&M’s are Addy’s favorites.
“Not hungry.”
“Some water? Or a Coke?”
She shakes her head.
“Anything?”
Addy hesitates. She really wants a big frozen cherry drink but Kyle has already made it known – a long time ago – that those are off limits because they make her pee a lot more than she normally has to and he hates trying to find a bathroom every five minutes when they are on the road.
“Ya want one of those cherry things, doncha?” he asks as if he can read her mind.
Addy nods tentatively.
“Guess it’s all right this once,” Kyle tells her. “We’re stoppin’ soon as I find a motel anyhow.” Besides, as ill as Addy seems to be, whatever bed they end up sleeping in tonight is unlikely to make it through the night dry. “Be back in a minute,” he adds.
Addy jumps when Kyle slams the door shut. She watches him walk into the building and stretches out full length across the truck stat. She is not comfortable. Her doll had fallen on the floor while she was sleeping earlier and in her current position she can barely curl her fingers around its foot to pull it on the seat with her. Once she has it she hugs it close to her chest, drags Kyle’s leather jacket over herself, and starts to suck her thumb again. That feels better. She yawns and her eyes drift shut. Her head aches and her throat is sore and she is just…so…tired…
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