Prompt: just a sickfic. Warning, this is VERY graphic, if you don't like vomiting, do not read this.

Wednesday Addams pulled a dark sweater over her head, before brushing her newly woven pigtails over her shoulders. She was glad to be out of the public shower room, and in the solace of her own dorm. She kept getting shivers down her spine. After getting out of the shower, she felt so cold she'd started to tremble. Her bare skin felt tender and achy.

She mildly regretted the shower. She thought it might help, but it had the opposite effect. The warm steam made her stomach feel heavy, and her breakfast sloshed around inside of her, unpleasantly. The only food she'd been able to tolerate was vanilla yogurt, with some strawberries, but even that had upset her queasy belly.

A vague feeling of dread crawled along her feverish skin . Wednesday never expected to catch the flu,since sickness tended to evade her. She decided the mere idea was ridiculous, but the nausea bubbling in her stomach was too real to ignore.

Curiously, Wednesday's hand drifted to her brow. She brushed her bangs back, gently, and placed her palm against her forehead. Her white skin was warm, and damp with sweat. The sensation made her freeze.

Oh no.

Compared to her usual chilly flesh, her mild fever felt as hot as an oven. Her upset stomach gave an unhappy lurch. She ignored it, quickly staggering into the conjoined bathroom, one that she and Enid both shared. When she flicked on the light, the contrasting environment was revealed—like an old, black-and-white gothic movie, mixed with a cute cartoon show.

Enid's rainbow makeup palettes, and Wednesday's black nail polish, littered the bathroom sink. A dead owl that Wednesday had stuffed clung to the towel rack, glass eyes judging the room. Unicorn stickers were pasted to the large mirror. Wednesday saw her face reflected in the silvery surface. She looked tired and sick. Her pallor was nearly gray, and circles underlined her eyes.

She quickly yanked open a drawer under the sink, shifting through glittery lipstick of various shades of pink. Enids, of course. She tried to ignore the nausea that was steadily crawling up her throat. It was becoming slightly unbearable. She reached all the way into the back, and finally, she found what she was looking for. Her fingers curled around the plastic tube and she pulled it out of the shadows.

Wednesday stared at the thermometer in her hand. It was slim and white, with a little LED screen, to display the temperature of the user. She normally avoided technology, but she made an exception this time. She pressed a button on the side, and the screen lit up. She placed the end into her mouth. It sat in a hard little lump under her tongue.

While she waited, her attention drifted back to her reflection. The thermometer stuck out from between her lips like a medical lollipop. She didn't quite want it there. Her stomach was still churning, like it wanted to leap out of her mouth. She swallowed lightly and fought the urge to vomit. If she did, it would splatter all over the sink, and then...

The alarm beeped, mercifully shifting her thoughts. She took the thermometer out of her mouth and looked at the display. What she saw made her terribly uncomfortable.

(100.2°)

Her insides seemed to drop, and her eyes widened owlishly. No. She preferred her skin to be corpse-cold. Wednesday shuddered, and her stomach knotted up. She eyed the nearby toilet wearily. In some sick, twisted way, the bowl looked inviting, waiting to receive her stomach contents.

Her nausea kicked up a notch. Yet she fought it, doing her best to shove it back down. She could still control this.

Wednesday tossed the thermometer back in the drawer, as if it had burned her. In a way, it had. Emotionally. She would've despised her self-pity, but her stomach ached too much, and she couldn't concentrate on much else. Another cramp twisted her belly. She carefully walked towards the toilet, each step gentle, as if moving might set her off. She felt as if she were dragging a chained weight behind her, as she sat down on the floor, next to the toilet, leaning back against the wall.

The white tiles were cold, clashing with her skin, which prickled with heated shivers. Her stomach still wanted to travel up her throat. Fever. Nausea. She had memories of these ailments as a child, foggy with age. She miserably slumped against the wall a little more.

She knew she wasn't getting up for a while. She had no desire to move, so she waited.

She knew what she was waiting for, which she hated, but she thought it might be inevitable. It loomed over her like a dark shadow. She fought back with denial, this would go away, of course it would, but her form was weak. Wednesday felt her stomach rising inside of her. She rolled to the side a little, dragging herself towards the toilet, until her mouth hovered over the rim of the bowl.

She was leaning over the toilet now, in the infamous position. To her dismay, she felt awful, the nausea sitting high in her chest. The back of her throat was tight. She breathed in deeply, but the urge to gag didn't go away. Her mouth filled with saliva instead, and she spit it out, the wad landing in the bowl with a wet splat. She watched it swirl around in the rippling water.

Then, something inside of her finally seemed to let go. She gagged harshly, causing her to bend further over, but nothing appeared. She stayed as still as a statue. It was coming. She could feel it building.

Wednesday's stomach contracted abruptly. The heave seemed to roll all the way up her abdomen, arching her back, forcing the vomit up and out of her mouth. Her breakfast reappeared in a warm, undigested mush that splashed into the bowl, tossing the water around like a troubled lake.

Wednesday moaned softly, on instinct, her face clammy and sickly-white. Light sweat glistened on her forehead.

She wished she was at home, in the privacy of her own bathroom. She could find no comfort here. In a last ditch effort, she reached out and pushed the door, which swung shut in a wide arch. Enid probably wouldn't be back for several hours, but it was best to be on the safe side. Wednesday didn't want to be seen like this, all vulnerable and weakened.

Her stomach wasn't quite empty yet, and she positioned herself in front of the toilet again. A squirt of saliva filled her mouth, and with distaste, she spat it out. It was thick, and stringy, so she had a hard time ridding her mouth of it. An instant later, another wave of sickness went up through her. Her stomach clenched and she expelled more vomit. She hoped it would get easier, but she still wasn't ready.

Breathing heavily, she hoped she was done now, but...no such luck. She was going to do it again.

Her stomach gurgled ominously. She could feel bile rising up her throat, and she leaned over, retching hard. The vomit flowed easily from her mouth. Little chunks of food clung to her teeth, but she spit it out quickly. Her stomach clenched, unclenched. Like the muscles were trying to wring her out. She brought up nothing but air, and a string of spit that clung to her lips.

Wednesday dry heaved a few times, struggling to regain control, but nothing else appeared. Her final clench ended in a hollow cough. She must be emptied out now.

After a moment she was able to get her bearings about her. She had an extensive knowledge of viruses, however, so she knew she wasn't truly finished. Not yet.

She reached out and flushed the toilet. Her bile swirled below, the soiled water sloshing around in the bowl, before vanishing down the drain. The hissing sounds of the toilet refilling soothed her a bit. She slowly rose from her crouched position, her legs shaky, but they supported her. She side-stepped to the sink, twisting the silver faucet handles. The water cascaded out in a steady gush.

Wednesday pushed the sleeves of her black shirt up her slender arms, before cupping her hands under the stream, creating a little bowl to sip from. She splashed cold water into her mouth. She gargled it in the back of her throat, then spit it back out into the basin. It washed out the sour taste in the back of her throat. She did feel a bit better, despite what her haggard reflection implied.

She turned off the water, sighing lightly. She stared at the tiny water droplets that spattered the mirror. All she wanted to do was go to bed, and hopefully forget about this horrible day. Until she had to throw up again, that is.

She walked out of the bathroom and sat down on her bed, giving her legs the rest they needed after the short walk. Her stomach gurgled hungrier than ever but she found no longing to eat. Wednesday leaned back and rested her head against the pillow lightly. That felt better. She lay like that for what could have been minutes or hours, though the clock stated it was three.

"I'm back!" Enid ran into the room holding something. The smell of pancakes wafted over Wednesday's nose. It was pancakes for dinner night. "Didn't see you at dinner so I brought some back for ya!"

Wednesday quite wished her girlfriend didn't care as much as she did, for the pancakes mear smell was enough to make her stomach roll again. She didn't bring her head from the pillow, instead, she just opened her eyes and looked at Enid.

Enid put down the pancakes and walked over. "You have like twenty blankets on! You're getting red! And you never use blankets, what's going on."

"I'm cold," Wednesday mumbled, a shiver running over her body. Her stomach took this as a chance to react to the pancakes and she gagged. This caused her whole body to rench, the loud sound echoed around the room. She gagged again, stomach fluids spilt over her pillow, some flowing back and into her hair. Enid's hand were on her in a second, lifting her up so she wasn't left to soak in her own fowle body fluid.

"Thank you," Wednesday huffed, trying to rid her mouth of the foul taste.

"Here let's get you to the bathroom," Enid scooped her up and took her back to where she had rested her head hours earlier.

"I need the pancakes. It feels better to throw up food than stomach fluid."

Enid came back with the pancakes a few moments later, handing them to Wednesday, who took one bite and then another. Downing four in her hunger. She had been wrong. Empty had felt better, as her body now refused to empty itself, it felt like there were air bubbles in her stomach. She placed her head against the tile again, shivering agressivly as Enid's hands brushed up and down her back, slowly working a massage into her neck.

"Do you want some water?" Enid asked, grabbing a damp towel and trying to wipe the puke that attempted to dry against her skin.

Readjusting herself, she pulled her way over to the tub. "A bath might work a bit better for that. And water won't help."

"Okay," Enid started up the water, adding in some of her stupid but well-needed salts as the water filled up. "I know you probably want it warm but you're burning up, it will feel pretty cold."

Wednesday reluctantly pulled off her shirt and pants before unhooking her bra and crawling in, shivering the moment her body submerged. The cold water did help with the nausea though.

"Here," Enid pulled off her hair binders, placing them on the ledge of the tub. Slowly she worked some of Wednesday's cinnamon-scented shampoo into her hair, being sure to avoid getting any of the soap in her eyes or ears. She used the shampoo as a soap as well, assuring she had covered any of her skin that had been exposed to the vomit before dipping her under and washing it all off.

Wednesday felt as if tears were welling up behind her eyes, she wrapped her arms around her stomach, wishing the stupid pain would just go away, a slight throbbing having started near her temples.

"Here," Enid's fingers wrapped around her torso, slowly rubbing all the places that hurt. "Is that better baby?"

Letting her head flop against Enid, she nodded, taking a deep breath in before letting it out. "Yeah."

After a few minutes, she pulled her hands back, drying them off with a towel. "Do you wanna stay in here while I change your sheets? Or lay on my bed."

Though Enid's bed was colourful and torturous, it was also warm. Clenching her jaw, she nodded. 

"I don't know what a nod means love."

"You're bed. It's warmer."

"Okay," Enid went to pick her up, but Wednesday brushed her hand aside. 

"I can still fend a little for myself Sinclair."

"Can you though?" Enid joked, already starting to make her way out the door. 

Hauling herself out of the tub, she managed to wrap herself in a towel, avoiding the shake in her legs as she walked to Enid's bed, flopping down on the bed and tossing aside her coverage. 

"Would you like a nightgown?" 

"Nooo!" Wednesday whined, flipping over and using one of the sheets to cover herself instead. 

"Yessss," Enid finished taking off the sheets, tossing them in the laundry before grabbing one of Wednesday's oddly feminine nightgowns and some boyshorts. "Get out of those covers and let me put something on you."

"I can dress myself."

"But you won't."

Enid wrestled the sheets off her ever-so-contrary girlfriend, pulling the gown over her head before she could protest, and wrestling her into the underwear. "Why are you so hostile when sick," she grunted as she almost got kicked in the face as an act of protest. 

"You really will make this  a long night for me, won't you."

"You know me too well."