![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
javert posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
teamflareTitle: You Dragged Me Out to Cure the Blues
Fandom: Pokémon X&Y
Pairing: Professor Augustine Sycamore/Lysandre
Rating: T
Summary: "I didn't realize you were that kind of doctor as well."
Notes: Written for Writer's Month, for the prompt: bubble. Title from Paths in the Sky by Metric.
AO3 Link: Here.
If there was one thing that made it clear that Lysandre was coming down with something, it was the way he'd agreed to lie down and let Augustine take care of him for the rest of the day. He'd woken up, dragged himself out of bed, and nearly fallen over as soon as he'd tried to stand. It had taken the combined power of Augustine, Orléans, and Pyrrhus to get him to go back down, and it was only then that he'd admitted he felt unwell.
Augustine had let him sleep away the morning, calling Sina to let her know he would be unavailable. Then he'd gathered all that he had of willpower and focus and took on the mantle of making sure Lysandre wouldn't have to do anything except rest and get better.
He fell ill fairly rarely, unlike Augustine who would usually catch everything you could reasonably catch every winter, and even some of what you could unreasonably catch. As far as he was concerned, Lysandre's body was a temple: the only things he allowed in were things that were, if not beneficial, at least not harmful to his survival and his health in general. The fact that he considered Augustine's semen to be in that category was, of course, a great honor that he strived to be worthy of.
This meant that Augustine seldom had occasions to care for him in this way. He cared for him in other ways, of course, from mental support to physical maintenance – Lysandre had made it clear that he didn't let just anybody whip him into thinking straight. But the simple, menial act of staying at your lover's bedside and making sure they're well-hydrated and on their way to better health was something that Lysandre would partake in more often than not. Cooking him delicious broths, brushing his hair, cleaning up his messes... Those were things Lysandre did for Augustine that Augustine was now very much looking forward to doing for him.
He called his mother and wrote down instructions on how to make the soup she'd make for him when he was a child. He tiptoed into the bedroom periodically to make sure Lysandre wasn't too hot or too cold. He refilled the pot of water he'd left on the bedside table for him. He even, miraculously – and, in truth, because Léon caught the one plate he dropped just in time – managed to cook what he'd planned without breaking anything.
When Lysandre appeared in the kitchen's doorway, rubbing his eyes, looking only half-awake, Augustine had just finished tasting the broth for the finishing touches. He yawned, uncharacteristically undignified, another testament to how out of it he had to feel. Orléans slinked out from under the kitchen table and wrapped himself around his calves, purring all the while.
"What time is it?" Lysandre mumbled. He massaged one of his eyes against his palm. "My head is killing me."
"You should sit down," Augustine said, and Pyrrhus instantly dragged out one of the chairs so his trainer could let himself fall on top of it. "It's nearly two in the afternoon. Are you hungry?"
Lysandre frowned. "I think so. You made food..?"
"Maman gave me her broth recipe," Augustine said, triumphant. "Don't worry, I made sure not to use anything you wouldn't eat. You need salt and fluids."
"I didn't realize you were that kind of doctor as well," Lysandre deadpanned, though when Augustine slid a hot bowl toward him, his expression was satisfyingly appreciative. "I have work I need to do," he added after taking the spoon handed – or rather beaked – to him by Léon. He took a sip of broth, his face regaining some colors from the heat. "This is good."
"Absolutely no working today. I'm taking care of you." Augustine puffed up his chest and laid his hands on his hips for emphasis. "That's final. I won't have you make yourself feel worse."
Though he pursed his lips for a second, Lysandre nodded, his shoulders relaxing ever-so-slightly. "Very well, Professor. I am in your care."
Augustine couldn't hold back a smile at that, widening when Lysandre blinked and turned his face away in a failed attempt to conceal his blush.
Once he'd eaten his meal and let himself be convinced to take something to soothe his headache, Augustine led him to the bathroom, where Pyrrhus and Himiltrude, his freshly caught shiny magikarp, had teamed up to prepare his bath. The fish pokémon was waiting for him in the tub, and as soon as he'd fully immersed himself in the warm water, she began dutifully flapping her fins to create bubbles around the both of them, encouraged by Pyrrhus who'd climbed up the side, sitting under the shower caddy in the corner.
Lysandre's smile was strikingly fond. In the dimmed light of the bathroom, it was hard to tell for sure, but it seemed to Augustine that his eyes were a little wet.
"I appear to be in everyone's care, today," Lysandre said, speaking in the low tones that betrayed his desire to keep a hold of himself. "Thank you."
He gave Himiltrude a little pat on the head, which only served to make her flap faster until she'd almost disappeared under the bubbles. Lysandre laughed, his plain, easy happiness communicative. Grinning, Augustine sat on the edge of the tub and grabbed the nearest bar of soap.
"Maybe I should get sick more often," Lysandre mumbled as he began to massage his broad shoulders.
"If that's what it takes for you to let yourself be taken care of, sure." Augustine chuckled, scratching the back of his neck until Lysandre's body went limp. "Or we could just do this from time to time."
The sound Lysandre made in response was more of a purr than a hum. "Maybe."
Even sickness couldn't defeat stubbornness, Augustine supposed. He gave Pyrrhus an exaggerated wink anyway. All in due time.
Fandom: Pokémon X&Y
Pairing: Professor Augustine Sycamore/Lysandre
Rating: T
Summary: "I didn't realize you were that kind of doctor as well."
Notes: Written for Writer's Month, for the prompt: bubble. Title from Paths in the Sky by Metric.
AO3 Link: Here.
If there was one thing that made it clear that Lysandre was coming down with something, it was the way he'd agreed to lie down and let Augustine take care of him for the rest of the day. He'd woken up, dragged himself out of bed, and nearly fallen over as soon as he'd tried to stand. It had taken the combined power of Augustine, Orléans, and Pyrrhus to get him to go back down, and it was only then that he'd admitted he felt unwell.
Augustine had let him sleep away the morning, calling Sina to let her know he would be unavailable. Then he'd gathered all that he had of willpower and focus and took on the mantle of making sure Lysandre wouldn't have to do anything except rest and get better.
He fell ill fairly rarely, unlike Augustine who would usually catch everything you could reasonably catch every winter, and even some of what you could unreasonably catch. As far as he was concerned, Lysandre's body was a temple: the only things he allowed in were things that were, if not beneficial, at least not harmful to his survival and his health in general. The fact that he considered Augustine's semen to be in that category was, of course, a great honor that he strived to be worthy of.
This meant that Augustine seldom had occasions to care for him in this way. He cared for him in other ways, of course, from mental support to physical maintenance – Lysandre had made it clear that he didn't let just anybody whip him into thinking straight. But the simple, menial act of staying at your lover's bedside and making sure they're well-hydrated and on their way to better health was something that Lysandre would partake in more often than not. Cooking him delicious broths, brushing his hair, cleaning up his messes... Those were things Lysandre did for Augustine that Augustine was now very much looking forward to doing for him.
He called his mother and wrote down instructions on how to make the soup she'd make for him when he was a child. He tiptoed into the bedroom periodically to make sure Lysandre wasn't too hot or too cold. He refilled the pot of water he'd left on the bedside table for him. He even, miraculously – and, in truth, because Léon caught the one plate he dropped just in time – managed to cook what he'd planned without breaking anything.
When Lysandre appeared in the kitchen's doorway, rubbing his eyes, looking only half-awake, Augustine had just finished tasting the broth for the finishing touches. He yawned, uncharacteristically undignified, another testament to how out of it he had to feel. Orléans slinked out from under the kitchen table and wrapped himself around his calves, purring all the while.
"What time is it?" Lysandre mumbled. He massaged one of his eyes against his palm. "My head is killing me."
"You should sit down," Augustine said, and Pyrrhus instantly dragged out one of the chairs so his trainer could let himself fall on top of it. "It's nearly two in the afternoon. Are you hungry?"
Lysandre frowned. "I think so. You made food..?"
"Maman gave me her broth recipe," Augustine said, triumphant. "Don't worry, I made sure not to use anything you wouldn't eat. You need salt and fluids."
"I didn't realize you were that kind of doctor as well," Lysandre deadpanned, though when Augustine slid a hot bowl toward him, his expression was satisfyingly appreciative. "I have work I need to do," he added after taking the spoon handed – or rather beaked – to him by Léon. He took a sip of broth, his face regaining some colors from the heat. "This is good."
"Absolutely no working today. I'm taking care of you." Augustine puffed up his chest and laid his hands on his hips for emphasis. "That's final. I won't have you make yourself feel worse."
Though he pursed his lips for a second, Lysandre nodded, his shoulders relaxing ever-so-slightly. "Very well, Professor. I am in your care."
Augustine couldn't hold back a smile at that, widening when Lysandre blinked and turned his face away in a failed attempt to conceal his blush.
Once he'd eaten his meal and let himself be convinced to take something to soothe his headache, Augustine led him to the bathroom, where Pyrrhus and Himiltrude, his freshly caught shiny magikarp, had teamed up to prepare his bath. The fish pokémon was waiting for him in the tub, and as soon as he'd fully immersed himself in the warm water, she began dutifully flapping her fins to create bubbles around the both of them, encouraged by Pyrrhus who'd climbed up the side, sitting under the shower caddy in the corner.
Lysandre's smile was strikingly fond. In the dimmed light of the bathroom, it was hard to tell for sure, but it seemed to Augustine that his eyes were a little wet.
"I appear to be in everyone's care, today," Lysandre said, speaking in the low tones that betrayed his desire to keep a hold of himself. "Thank you."
He gave Himiltrude a little pat on the head, which only served to make her flap faster until she'd almost disappeared under the bubbles. Lysandre laughed, his plain, easy happiness communicative. Grinning, Augustine sat on the edge of the tub and grabbed the nearest bar of soap.
"Maybe I should get sick more often," Lysandre mumbled as he began to massage his broad shoulders.
"If that's what it takes for you to let yourself be taken care of, sure." Augustine chuckled, scratching the back of his neck until Lysandre's body went limp. "Or we could just do this from time to time."
The sound Lysandre made in response was more of a purr than a hum. "Maybe."
Even sickness couldn't defeat stubbornness, Augustine supposed. He gave Pyrrhus an exaggerated wink anyway. All in due time.