Catfish and the Bottlemen Imagines

All Of Your Children (Part 2)

PART 2 - FINDING OUT

"Wake up babe, c'mon you're gonna be late for work."

Van's voice pierces the layers of sleep but you're not ready to move just yet. You've had yet another disrupted night's sleep for absolutely no apparent reason, and it's starting to take it's toll on you. You just feel exhausted.

"Just five more minutes," you mumble into the pillow, burying your face in it, extending your limbs in a feline stretch.

"C'mon sleepy head! You told me to make sure you were up early today."

You feel your boyfriend's hands around your waist, sliding under the oversized t-shirt that you wear to sleep in, and you bat him away, giggling when it doesn't deter him and instead he just sneaks his fingers under the hem even more insistently.

"Hmm... well if you're staying in bed you may as well make yourself useful!" He murmurs, and you turn over then to face him to see a wide mischievous grin on his face, his hair all mussed up on the pillow.

Spending lazy mornings in bed with Van are one of your favourite things to do. When he's up and about he's always so busy, he barely sits still for a moment, but when you're in bed together there's nothing to distract him. You have him all to yourself. All of a sudden the prospect of getting into work early to get a head-start on the event you're supposed to be organising doesn't seem like such a priority. You both lean in together, your eyes fixed on each other's lips...

That's when it hits. A sudden rush of nausea washes over you, your stomach knotting and your body tensing as you sit bolt upright, your hand shooting up to cover your mouth.

"Ughhh... I'm gonna puke!" You mutter, pushing yourself up, throwing the duvet aside, one leg already over the side of the bed ready to make a dash for the bathroom.

You feel hot and dizzy, a sheen of perspiration breaking out all over your body as you reach the bathroom, pushing through the door and diving forward on to your knees, flicking the toilet seat up. Your stomach clenches painfully and you grip it, retching, bring up the entire contents of your stomach which happens to be the seafood linguine that you made last night. It certainly tasted a lot better going in than it does coming out.

You hear footsteps padding into the bathroom over your violent heaving, feel a hand on your hair brushing it back from your face and another on your back, gently rubbing it, soothing you. You're bent over, face flushed, eyes watering, waiting for the nausea to pass, and it does eventually, but your stomach is still clenching and you feel weak and shaky. You sit back on your haunches, grabbing for some toilet roll to wipe your mouth.

"Not usually the kind of reaction I get when I go in for a kiss," Van says, chuckling softly, still stroking your back. "Seriously though, are you okay love? That came from nowhere. D'ya reckon it was those prawns from last night?"

"Don't talk about the prawns!" You plead, your stomach already bubbling just at the thought of them.

Van gets up from his crouched position to fill a glass with water which you accept from him gratefully, gulping down the cool, refreshing contents. You shuffle over to sit with your back against the bath, not trusting your legs just yet. You tip your head back, still feeling dizzy.

"I wonder if it was the food," you ponder. "But if it was then you'd be bad too, surely?"

Van nods, taking a seat on the floor next to you, running a hand over his belly. "Could be... who knows? I've got a cast-iron stomach me. I can eat anything. Maybe you've just got a tummy bug."

You lean away from him. "You'd better stay clear then if you don't want to catch the lurgy!"

"Ughhh! I defo don't want it. Look... you'd better get yourself back to bed. You won't be going to work today."