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OW
CONTENT WARNING: It's a sickfic, so it includes some description of sweating and vomiting.
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None of them had noticed anything wrong, initially, because of course Turo didn’t say anything in favor of trying to get on with his work. Maybe in retrospect he was a little slower getting up than usual, but everyone was too busy fighting over the bathroom to notice. And maybe he did pick listlessly at the food Corvidan handed him, but Turo always did that.
No, the first moment Saft realized something might be wrong was while Turo was handling a jar of solvent. She didn’t see exactly what happened, as she was busy on the other side of the room, but she heard the clunk of the jar being knocked over and the splash of the solvent across the counter.
Saft hastily replaced the toolbox she’d been sorting and turned around. Fortunately, Turo seemed fine- he was wearing thick gloves and goggles, and it didn’t seem like any of the solvent had gotten onto him or anything flammable. But he was staring blankly down at it in a way that Saft found… concerning.
“Are you okay?” she asked. He hadn’t been clumsy like this in quite a while.
Turo slowly tilted his head to look at her. The goggles obscured the upper part of his face, but it seemed tensed, his brows deeply furrowed. “A slight tremor,” he said. “Nothing more, but... it is inconvenient. Help me clean this up.”
Saft automatically said: “What’s the magic word?”
Turo grimaced. “Will you please help me clean this up, because methanol is a poisonous substance that should not be inhaled or touched and therefore is best cleaned up immediately?”
“Oh!”
There were a few hasty minutes during which the spill was wiped up and a doorknob was picked out so that they could ventilate the room. The front door was opened up to an empty cove somewhere, and Saft took a moment to savor the comparative coolness of the air that flowed into the hot emporium. It really made her long for a walk. Perhaps when Corvidan got back from running errands, they could-
There was the sound of drawers being rummaged through, which reminded Saft that she still had a magineer to keep an eye on. Once again, she turned to see how he was doing. Turo was standing on the stool they’d gotten him, digging through the shelves for something- replacement solvent, probably- when he suddenly made a soft, strangled sound, and clutched at his head.
Saft hurried to his side. Leaning down, trying to read his expression, she asked “Turo? What’s wrong, do you have a headache?”
Turo did not look up, but roughly stripped his gloves off and buried his face in his hands. After a moment he finally responded, albeit muffled: “Migraine.”
Ah. Saft wasn’t the biggest expert on medical matters, but she was at least somewhat aware of what that meant. “Is there anything that would help? Would you like some water, or maybe I could look for some willow bark…?”
Again, there was a delay in Turo’s response. When he spoke, it was slow, even slower than he normally spoke. “Water… would be… fine. There’s tea in the… bathroom.” He languidly removed one hand from his face and gestured in the vague direction of the hallway.
Saft nodded and slipped over to the shelf which had been commandeered for dishes to grab a cup. As she did, Turo slowly inhaled, exhaled, and resumed digging through the drawers.
“Hey,” she said, shooting him a concerned look, “I don’t think you should keep working until your pain’s gone-”
“I’m fine.”
Saft pursed her lips, but decided against arguing with Turo until she’d at least gotten some medicine into him. “Just, be careful with any more of that menthol stuff, alright?”
“Methanol.”
“That too.”
Saft left Turo to putter around with his nefarious pursuits, albeit keeping an ear out for any more spills, and went to retrieve the medicine and water from the bathroom. The water was easy enough, though the tea took a minute of digging through the medicine cabinet. It was stored in a small jar with an attached slip of paper, on which the directions were written in small, tidy handwriting. Obviously not Emma’s; perhaps an agent had picked it up for Turo at some point in the past. Saft just hoped it would still be effective.
She returned to the main room, where Turo was now doing something-or-other with a set of rings, and placed the cup of water near his hand. “Here,” she said. “The tea should take, um, about forty minutes. How’s your head?”
“It’s fine.” Turo winced.
“Uh-huh.” Again, Saft debated whether or not to argue and again, decided that trying to deal with Turo’s stubbornness at that moment would not be worth it. She was gratified to see him at least take a sip of water, and decided to let him get on with things while she made tea.
Of course, once she had the saucepan, water, tea things, etcetera all assembled, and was standing back, waiting until she could take it off the heat, there wasn’t much else to do except either stare at the pot, or at Turo.
He was still slowly chipping away with his tools and to Saft’s annoyance, appeared to have barely touched his water. More concerning was that even from her side of the room there was a noticeable sheen to his skin: He was clearly sweating, a lot. But the emporium was hot from the forge all the time, and he otherwise seemed alright.
After waiting the requisite ten minutes, Saft removed the pot from the tiny stove. “It’s just going to need to steep now,” she announced. “You sure you’re doing okay over there?”
Turo made an incoherent noise of irritation.
That… did not seem like a good sign. Still keeping an eye on Turo, Saft set the pot aside. Perhaps now was the time to insist he go back to bed…
She did not have time to finish debating with herself before Turo abruptly set his tools aside, stepped down from his stool, and speedily walked out into the hallway. Whoa, Saft thought, moving to follow him, did Turo actually decide for himself to get some rest? Had Emma managed to put the fear of Gods into him-
But in the hallway, Turo did not head for the bedroom, but instead took a left turn into the bathroom. Saft scrambled into the doorway just in time to witness Turo crouch in front of the toilet and begin retching loudly.
“Geh- Um!” Okay, maybe this wasn’t the time to ask questions. Hoping he wouldn’t freak out about it, Saft kneeled next to him and pulled back his hair, as gently as she could when his entire upper body was heaving violently. Turo did not even seem to notice. Well, he was definitely preoccupied.
Still doing her best to keep Turo’s hair from falling into his face, Saft couldn’t help but cringe at the noises he was making, and the sour stench that was now emanating from the toilet. It did not take long for Turo to empty his stomach, but the retching continued unabated into the misery of dry heaving.
After a far too long period of this, Turo finally stopped. His breathing was heavy, and his back and hair were damp with sweat. Without a word, he peeled off his goggles and placed them carelessly to one side. Insomuch as Saft could see of him, crouched as he was, Turo looked… very small and gross and sad.
“Are you feeling any better?” she asked.
In response, Turo whimpered.
“Oh…” she said, frowning. “It’ll be okay. Here…” Gingerly, she moved one hand to his back and began gently stroking, trying not to think too hard about what she was doing.
“I know this sucks right now,” she continued, softening her voice, “But I’ll stay with you until you feel better, alright? Or if you seem to be getting worse- I’ll make sure Emma or someone gets a look at you, okay? You’re going to be fine.”
Turo made another quiet whimpering sort of noise, which Saft had no idea how to interpret. She hoped it wasn’t migraine-speech for ‘Stop touching me you horrible lizard, you’re just making this worse.’ She hoped she was actually helping him, if only a little.
For a while they stayed like that, kneeled on the tiles of Turo’s bathroom. Turo seemed unable to talk, perhaps due to the nausea, or the pain, or both, and Saft wasn’t sure if trying to talk would have been a helpful distraction for him or an irritation. She settled instead for mostly staying silent, outside of occasionally murmuring attempts at comfort, and continuing to rub his back or, whenever another round of retching started, holding back his hair.
Eventually Saft heard the sound of the portal in the spare room lighting up, followed by the light squabbling of the Pleasant brothers, Festivus, Lavender, and Emma, as they tripped over one another. They were friendly sounds, but also loud enough to make her grimace on Turo’s behalf, especially as she could feel him tensing up under her hand.
Lavender was the first to call out (“We’re baaa~aaaack!”) followed by Corvidan (“Saft? Turo? Are you in?”) Raising her voice just enough to be sure she would be heard out in the hallway, Saft called back: “We’re in here.”
A puzzled looking Corvidan immediately appeared in the doorway, Lavender squeezed in beside him. Corvidan stared down at where Saft was still kneeling with Turo, dismay mixing in with the confusion. Lavender merely wrinkled her nose.
“Is Turo sick?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Saft confirmed. “He has a migraine, so you’ll need to be quiet, okay?”
“Okay~! I mean- okay.”
“I’ll go get Emma,” Corvidan said. He trotted off to do just that- Lavender lingered for a moment to stare at Turo and mutter “Ew,” at the state of the bathroom, before moving away to let Emma through.
Emma barely gave the pair a glance before plunking herself down next to them and touching her knuckles to Turo’s cheek. “Hm,” she said. “Migraine, right?”
To Saft’s surprise, Turo mumbled a “Yes.”
“Not much to do other than rest and wait for it to pass, but I’ll fix you some tea that might help with the pain and nausea.” Glancing at the toilet, Emma added, “Though it looks like we were already gone for the worst of it.”
“I am… better, now,” Turo said. “I should resume work-”
“No, you shouldn’t!” Saft blurted out.
“Absolutely not,” Emma agreed. “And don’t give me that look,” she added, as Turo tilted his head to glower balefully at her. “You’ll get better much faster if you take proper care of yourself instead of trying to ignore it like an idiot.”
“The nausea has mostly... already passed. If I can keep your medicine down-”
“Nope. Get some bed rest. Doctor’s orders.”
“You are not my employer.”
“Sure, but I will tie you to the bed if I have to. Or I’ll tell her to go dragon and pin you down, how about that?”
Turo exhaled, long and slow. “Why must you insist on interfering with my work?”
“Because we care about you and want you to feel better, kiddo. ‘Sides, anything you try and make while you’re like this is bound to turn out like crap anyway.”
“I’m not a child,” Turo muttered.
Ignoring that, Emma looked over to Saft’s hand, still resting on Turo’s back, and then at Saft herself. “It seems like he’s not throwing up at the moment, so you take him to his room, okay? I’ll bring in some tea and a basin in a bit.”
“Uh, right,” Saft said, fumbling to move her hand to Turo’s shoulder. “Come on Turo, you heard the bossy lady.”
Turo grunted but seemed to acquiesce, stumbling to his feet. Saft slipped her hand from his shoulder, but hovered nearby as they left the bathroom and turned the corner towards Turo’s room. She felt an odd pang of nostalgia, remembering suddenly how she’d had to hover over Turo back when she’d revived him. He was so much less clumsy now, although unsteady at the moment from the migraine.
They reached the bed and despite Turo’s earlier protests, he gracelessly flopped onto it, kicked off his shoes, and burrowed underneath the blanket. Saft waited until he seemed to have settled, picked up his shoes and placed them neatly in the corner, then turned to leave.
But there came a croaking voice from the bed:
“Wait,”
Saft turned back to Turo. His face was mostly hidden by hair and bedding, but she could see his one golden eye staring out at her with a glazed version of the usual Turo intensity.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“It still hurts.”
“Oh, yeah.” Saft smiled sympathetically. “Don’t worry, I’m sure Emma will bring you something soon-”
“You said,” Turo continued slowly, “That you would stay with me. Until I recovered.”
What?
“So… Stay here.” Turo took a breath, and in a resigned tone, he added:
“...Please?”
Saft’s mouth opened. “Wait…” she said. “Really?”
“If I want you to leave, I will say so.”
“Well, okay, if you think it’ll help.”
“It hasn’t been… harmful.” Having conceded to this much, Turo shuffled to the side and stared at her expectantly. Saft half-expected him to pat the space he’d just made. He didn’t, and Saft carefully didn’t grin at him.
Pushing aside the sheer oddness of the situation, Saft moved over to Turo’s side and sat gently down on the bed next to him. Turo closed his eyes.
“So…” she said, “Did you want to talk, or…”
“No talking.”
“Okay, sure, I can do that, no problem-” Turo’s one eye slightly opened, and Saft clamped her mouth shut. Right, no talking!
She sat there in silence and presently, Turo began to shift again. Saft eyed him carefully as he rolled over, pressing heavy against her side. Turo’s eyes remained shut, and his breathing seemed slow and even, though she wasn’t sure if he was actually asleep yet.
Oh boy.
If Saft was being honest, she felt a little… okay, maybe a lot awkward, to be sitting there with Turo cuddled up against her. He was an ex-enemy, kind of weird and inconsiderate in general, and technically older than her grandfather, for Zephyr’s sake. (Also still kind of gross and sweaty from earlier.)
But again. He was an ex-enemy. Privately, she’d long since started thinking of him as a friend, much faster than she had expected.
And if he wanted her company right here, right now, then maybe he thought of her as a friend too.
And if Turo thought of her as a friend, then…
Saft shifted, moving her arm so Turo could lie more fully against her side, silently letting him move his head onto her shoulder.
...If Turo thought of her as a friend, then she felt she could be rather proud of that.