regular Show Illness

Rigby shifted in the pile of clothes on the mini trampoline he called a bed. It was midnight and he still couldn't get to bed. He was utterly exhausted but his body just would not sleep. To make everything worse; he had work tomorrow.

He whimpered as his stomach rolled over, making a bad feeling go through his whole body. He tensed until the feeling faded. He could tell he was sweating under his fur, but he was still shivering, feeling as if the blood that ran through his veins was cold.

He stood up and stumbled off to that bathroom, one hand on his stomach. Oh he hoped the nausea would pass, just like all the times before. Even if it was irritating, he still hated throwing up.

He sat in front of the toilet, arms resting heavily on his stomach as it twisted violently.

He let out a small moan and shifted so he was leaning over the bowl. This was not going to just pass. Saliva gathered in his mouth and his stomach clenched in a heave.

Nothing came up at first, but Rigby still felt horrid. The second heave brought up some bile that he coughed into the toilet, spitting harshly. Finally, the third heave brought up a mouthful of partially digested dinner.

His throat burned as more and more vomit spewed up from his upset stomach and into the bowl.

It only took a few moments before the heaving subsided, leaving him a disheveled mess panting over the toilet bowl.

He waited for a while more, trying to see if anything else would come up. Thankfully, throwing up seemed to put his stomach to rest. He flushed the toilet and rinsed his mouth out before stumbling back to his room.

Chills overcame him as he began to peel back the covers of his own bed. He knew his bed would be cold but... He looked over to where Mordecai was sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware of what was going on with his best friend.

Tears welled up without reason in Rigby's eyes. He didn't want to beg or seem gay but... sleeping with Mordecai would be so much warmer than sleeping alone.

Moving on instinct alone, Rigby moved over to where Mordecai was. He pulled lightly on his arm, trying to get his attention.

Mordecai let out a sleepy moan and cracked open one eye. "Rigby dude," he looked at the clock, "it's midnight. What do you want?"

Rigby gave a small sob before he could stop it. Mordecai looked over at him in worry. He noticed how limp and disheveled the raccoon's fur looked, the wetness beneath his eyes, the way he shivered though the room was heated. "Hey, I didn't mean to be harsh. Look dude, tell me what's wrong." He quickly propped himself on his wing, looking worriedly at his small friend.

"I..." His pride was broken as he started speaking, "I threw up..."

Mordecai quickly shifted so he was seated on the edge of his bed. He worriedly placed a hand on Rigby's forehead. "Oh my god dude! You're burning up! Why didn't you tell me you were sick earlier?"

"Because I have some pride... Besides, I thought you would make fun of me for being weak. But I'm really cold dude, please let me lay down with you..." Rigby punctuated his pleaded with a sob. Why was he so weak?

"Dude of course you can! Get up here!" Mordecai moved again so there was room for his little friend in the bed. "And you're not weak dude, it takes a lot of guts to ask for help. I would never make fun of you for being sick. Unless it was your fault because you did something you shouldn't have."

Rigby climbed into bed with Mordecai. He was miserable, but the warmth his friend gave off was nice.

He crawled under the covers and was pleasantly surprised when a warm wing wrapped around his shivering form. "Try and get some rest man, I'll be right here if you need me." Mordecai was already falling back to sleep, shown by his words being punctuated by a yawn.

Rigby nodded and shuffled closer to his friend's heat.