El Mañana (Murdoc x Reader x 2D)

Gravity

I woke up with a start, myself sweating as I bolted straight up on the couch. It was noon, I knew that. And I felt like absolute crap. I had a nightmare, but I knew that wasn't the reason why. The nightmare may have only contributed to it. I dreamt that I saw her. Not my mother, not Noodle, not Sherry. Paula. I had a nightmare where she was over me, continuously hitting at me with a Pan, and telling obscenities at me. I wasn't okay. I had been having these nightmares every night, feeling every bit of pain as I lost sleep. The words and the weapons she had used changed, but the pain was the same.

I coughed into my hand, my nose stuffy, and my head buzzing as I realized how hot I was. I was sick. There wasn't a more perfect time for me to be sick as well. I could feel my stomach began to swirl as I clutched it in my hands, closing my eyes, and willing the nausea to go away. I wouldn't throw up, especially not in front of Murdoc. "The only reason you are here is because you belong to 2D. You couldn't make a decision if your life depended on it. You are like a frightened Pomeranian, yapping awhile while no one but your owner cares. He treats you like the whiny baby you are." That comment still stayed fresh in my head as I took a few deep breaths. I could smell things cooking the kitchen, which had wafted off into the living room, where I was sleeping. That had done it for me. I bolted from my spot, and quickly ran to the bathroom.

Then, I threw up in the toilet, my hair falling around my face, and myself wishing I had pulled it up when I was feeling sick. I was puking my brains out, my head buzzing, and my fever raging as I leaned against the toilet bowl, and flushed the toilet, thankful for the coldness of the porcelain. I could hear a couple of footsteps, ones that had belonged to a pair of boots, and had definitely carried their weight. I couldn't tell who it was, but all I knew was that they knelt beside me whilst I began to cry, pulling my hair up into a loose bun.

"2D didn't knock you up, did he? You didn't go for a game of Twister under the covers, shagging in the sheets?" I heard his voice loud and clear, and I began to cry more as my stomach continued to churn. He was witnessing at my weakest, watching my cry as I threw up in the toilet. But, I didn't say anything as I looked into the toilet bowl, waiting for more to come up, waiting for myself to throw up again. I slowly leaned into him, my body tired after a couple rounds of that into the toilet. I was exhausted between the nightmares, the occasional crude comments, and the sickness itself. I was glad, though. He was acting like himself, cocky, with a touch of rudeness to it. Yet, again, he wrapped his arms around me, his fingers in my hair as he held me.

"Honestly, I don't know, Muds," I slurred to him, blinking as I shakily grabbed on his hands, closing my eyes. "Last night was a blur. It could've happened. Or, you know, if you couldn't tell, maybe I'm sick." I muttered sarcastically as I heard him chuckle, sitting on the bathroom floor with me.

"You are stunning when you are sick. I mean, wow." His sarcasm was over the top, and I took a deep breath, the wave of nausea hitting me like a tsunami. I leaned forward from where I was on the ground, gripping the toilet. I'm surprised that Giraffe hasn't run up here yet. And I was about to admit that I was enjoying Murdoc's company. He moved forward with me, rubbing soothing circles into my back, a bit gentler than Noodle did. I dry-heaved, pain filling me as nothing came out. My stomach, I was exhausted. "I hate you." I jokingly said after the short episode, leaning back into him. He brushed my hair out of my face, laughing himself, staying somewhat quiet. He pulled me upwards as he stood up, lifting me up, and having me sit on the edge of the bath.

"You done, slag?" He questioned, looking me in the eyes. I smiled softly, the malicious tone in his voice that had been haunting me disappeared. I took deep breaths, my body shaking back and forth, myself as pale as I could get, and my eyes having severe bags underneath them. I nodded, and he gently wiped my mouth with towel, one that was already somewhat wet. "I think so. Is anyone else here?" I questioned him, gently holding his arm to steady myself, still sitting in the edge of the bathtub, on the small ledge that had kept the water in when you took a bath. He reached behind me, and turned the bath on, getting a larger towel from underneath the sink, and hanging it on a hook.