imagines | p.s.

not feeling well. period.

You turned over onto your back, squinting and groaning a little. There was an episode of Doctor Who on the television in front of you, but you couldn't pay attention; your cramps and aches were absolutely killing you. Your period was always terrible for the first day or two, and you expected that, but that didn't make it any less unbearable; here you were, splayed out in your underwear and one of Patrick's old t-shirts, barely able to think because of how bad your uterus wanted to destroy you from the inside out.

You tilted your head back a little to watch the door open as Patrick stepped in, carrying a plastic grocery sack. "You still on the couch, baby?" He called. You groaned in response.

"'m over here," you mumbled, your face contorting a little in pain and your arms wrapping around your abdomen. Patrick rounded the corner and sat next to your body on the couch.

"I got what you wanted, baby girl. Or, at least what I think you wanted," he said, starting to pull items out of the bag. Snacks and toiletries began to litter the coffee table. "Uh, Ben and Jerry's, tea, Midol, heating pads and stuff.. Anything else you wanted?"

You shook your head, pulling yourself closer to Patrick. Your arms wrapped around his thigh, and you put your head against his tummy. "What flavor of Ben and Jerry's?" You murmured.

He laughed, rubbing the nape of your neck. "The Oreo cookie core stuff. That what you wanted?"

Your voice came out strained. "Sure.. Mhm."

Patrick touched tour forehead. "Is it bad, princess?" He asked. You shrugged a little.

"Cramps.. Yeah," you breathed out. "Can I have some of that Midol?"

Patrick reached forward for the glass of water you'd had earlier, and the bottle of pills. When he opened it for you, you popped one into your mouth and swallowed it down while grimacing. "I hate periods," you complained. "Why do I get to bleed from in between my legs and suffer like this for no reason?"

"I dunno, baby. I know it isn't fair," Patrick said. He gingerly placed a hand on your lower abdomen, rubbing gentle circles. You winced.

"Am I hurting you, love?" He inquired. You put your palm against Patrick's hand.

"Mm.. No," you said. "Feels good. Relieves some of the tension, I think." He nodded, playing with your hair with the other hand.

"So, what'd you do all day."

You scoffed. "Nothing. I laid on the couch for about twelve hours and suffered." That was pretty much true; you had only gotten up off of the couch to use the bathroom and change your tampon.

"So you've been on your butt all day?"

"Yes," you sighed, "and you can't judge me."

Patrick shook his head. "No, I can't, and besides," his hand travelled cheekily down to playfully pinch your butt and make you squirm and giggle a little. "You have a cute butt."

"Shut up," you giggled. "I don't have a cute butt and I definitely wouldn't get one from sitting on my ass all day."

Patrick laced your fingers with his and picked up the remote. "Whatever you say," he teased. "So, have you even been paying attention to Doctor Who at all?"

You shook your head. "No. The only thing I've paid attention to are David Tennant's cheekbones." Patrick laughed.

"Ah, I see," he giggled. "Alright, if you're not paying attention to this, why don't we watch a movie?"

"What movie?"

"Carrie."

Once you gave him a deaths glare, he broke out into a grin. "Period jokes, really, Patrick? That wasn't even a good one."

He kissed your forehead. "I'm kidding, I know. For real, why don't we watch 21 Jump Street?" He suggested.

You nodded. "I do like that movie."

"I know you do," Patrick mumbled, kissed your nose. Your face scrunched up a little into what Patrick would call "adorable."

"It would make me feel better," you insisted.

"That's why I'm putting it on, dork. I want you to feel better."

"Just put the damn movie on."

idk.