Mel and Sam | Vomit
Jun. 11th, 2024 06:15 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsSam and Mel have an unfortunate conversation over a bowl of sick and some saltine crackers.
TW: CSA MENTION, DISCUSSION OF GROOMING
Sam's tshirt had a hole in it and his sweats had seen better days (and a few of Cissie's art projects) and he's wearing mismatched socks with his slippers. He still looked better than Mel did though.
"Here." He said, holding a tupperware container in one hand while the other has a bottle of gingerale and a sleeve of saltine crackers. "In case you puke."
“I ain’t gonna puke. It’s jus’ a cold,” Mel protested, trying to brush him off. It was in fact not ‘jus’ a cold’. She felt awful- achy, too hot, too cold, and like someone was pounding her skull with a hammer. And nauseous.
"I was born at night but not last night, take the damn crackers Mellie." Sam grumbled, sitting on the edge of her bed. He sighed and removed a cool, damp, washcloth from the bowl on her bedside table and dabbed at her forehead. "You oughta go see a doctor."
She frowned at the proposition. “Nuh uh, m’fine.” The argument was not very convincing as she sighed at the washcloth on her forehead.
"Will you at least swallow an aspirin with yer gingerale?" He asked, looking at her pointedly. "I don't like how warm yer gettin'."
“Finee.” Mel sat up slowly and fumbled with the bottle of aspirin from her bedside table, exaggeratedly taking one with a tiny sip of the gingerale. “You don’ gotta take care of me Sam. You’ve got better things t’be doin’.”
“I watched you nearly collapse in the hall tryin’ to force yerself to go to work this mornin’- I’m exactly where I oughta be Melody Grace.” Sam rolled his eyes. Kids these days.
Huffing at being ‘Melody Grace-d’, she tried to sit up more. This was apparently the wrong move as her stomach turned and she lunged for the bowl. Mel groaned as the meager contents of her stomach were expunged.
Sam rubbed her back gently, and held her hair back with his other hand. “Anything else I can get for ya?”
She shook her head and carefully stood up to go to the ensuite, trying not to sway, bowl in tow. She hated the acidic feeling of sick in her mouth. “Gonna go rinse.”
“Don’t brush yet. It’ll wear down the enamel on your teeth cause of the acid.” Sam called after her.
Mel made an affirmative noise and gargled some water at the sink, keeping steady with a hand on the basin. She washed the bucket, made her way back over to her room, and crawled back into bed; feeling slightly better but also shitty. “M’gonna sleep now. You should go, don’ want you gettin’ sick from me.”
“I get sick I get sick.” Sam said, dismissive. “I ain’t leavin’ ‘til I’m sure yer fever’s broke.”
“You’ve already been sick lately, you don’ need whatever I got too!” Mel whined as she kicked off some covers, feeling much too warm.
“I weren’t ill just disgusted.” Sam said quietly. “‘M fine. And if I get yer sick, I’ll get yer sick, and then make Clint fuss over me and be all dramatic about it. Don’t worry none.”
“Oh..” She barely heard the second half, focused on the disgusted part. Mel curled up and quieted down, feeling worse again but not because of whatever illness she’d caught.
Sam sighed and squished in next to Mel on the bed. "No... hey, it weren't cause of you. I was disgusted by the things he said and stuff he reminded me of that weren't even connected to you.....It wasn't you Mellie. I promise."
Cuddling up against him even though she was kind of gross, Mel mumbled, “The same stuff you talked ‘bout before?”
"Yeah." Sam said softly, putting his arm around her. "Lil- my ex was.... a piece of work and he reminds me a lot of her. That's all."
“M’sorry Sammy.”
"You ain't got nothin' to be sorry for." Sam whispered. "I'm the one who bought the damn concert ticket in the first place. Ain't yer fault I met her."
“That rock concert you went to? In Louisville?”
"Yeah." Sam breathed intentionally slow through his nose. He half hoped Mel didn't remember him only being sixteen at the time. Part of him though, wondered if she did- would she get it immediately? Would she understand?
“Hm.” It took her a minute, brain foggy from illness, but she started when it did. “But weren’t you- you were…” Sam’d still been at home and dating someone like Warren? “Shit, Sam.”
"She was in her twenties it wasn't..." He stopped himself before saying 'that bad.' His therapist had been getting on him about that. "I don't wanna give you more than you can handle, hon."
Mel’s mind was spinning now. “Wait, is this the same girl you dated for three years?! The one you kept secret? Ohmigosh Sam, fuck.”
“Just don’- don’ tell anyone?” He asked, almost pleading. “I ain’t really even told Clint yet…..only folks who’d know are you, me, and my therapist.”
Even still, he was pretty sure Lucinda knew. Where else was he getting things like a brand new smartphone and fresh new clothes. Why else would he have been sneaking around at night. Where else would he have gotten the money for those fancier gifts?
He swallowed. “You gotta promise me Mellie.”
“Of course I won’t, but Jesus Sam, you oughta told someone.” Mel calmed down enough to wrap around him tightly, almost protectively. Literally everything from Sam’s last few years at home made sense now. How could she not have seen it? Mel felt guilty. Guilty for making him relive that and guilty for how she acted back then… always saying he needed to find his “Princess Charming”..
"I told ya...I thought it was my choice. Fuck Mel, I thought- I thought I was grown. I was an adult in pert near every other way and I just....she was no nice at first. Pretty and strong and I thought she were so cool for bein' from London and.....I thought - she supported my idea that if I was gonna be grown I oughta be treated like I was. I mean c'mon - it ain't everyday a boy from Cumberland County goes into the city and his favorite singer wants to kiss 'im outside the venue....she made me feel so special."
At first at least. There was always that caveat.
She hugged him tighter and buried her face in his shoulder. “I- m’sorry Sam, I’m so sorry.”
"It wasn't.... It wasn't all bad. Thanks to her I was able to get Jay that electric.... an' y'all used to be so tickled takin' pictures on my old phone....I'm okay now, I think." Sam said. "Sometimes it just.... the older I get the more I realize how...young I was and how proud of bein' unethical she was and then that fucking peacock laughed at me for tryin' to make sure we were all gonna be fine and bragged about not doin' ethics and doin' whatever he wanted and it just....it reminded me of her. I'm fine."
That made it so much worse. “I- I didn’t mean fer any of that t’happen. It shouldn’t’a. I’ve been such a fool.” Mel hiccuped. It was stupid that she was crying. This was about Sam, not her.
Sam hugged her close. "Shhhh- aint' yer fault, princess. I've got ya, it's okay."
“It ain’t! You- I-“ If there had been anything in her stomach, Mel would’ve thrown up again. She opted to cling onto Sam’s shirt instead. How could he even? When she’d?
"We're both grown and can make our own decisions. And it ain't yer fault if you didn't know. I still work for him, Mel- that's a choice I make. I'm managin'- it's okay. I ain't mad at ya and I ain't gonna blame you for my shit." He whispered, pulling her closer. "Not everythin's a blame game, hon. We ain't gotta feel guilty over shit that ain't our fault."
“Okay,” Mel sniffled quietly, even if she didn’t quite believe it.
"I love you, so much." Sam said quietly, kissing her forehead.
But he knew it wasn't enough.
I couldn’t keep you safe from the Cabots but Jesus Mel, I oughta be able to keep you safe from becoming me.
TW: CSA MENTION, DISCUSSION OF GROOMING
Sam's tshirt had a hole in it and his sweats had seen better days (and a few of Cissie's art projects) and he's wearing mismatched socks with his slippers. He still looked better than Mel did though.
"Here." He said, holding a tupperware container in one hand while the other has a bottle of gingerale and a sleeve of saltine crackers. "In case you puke."
“I ain’t gonna puke. It’s jus’ a cold,” Mel protested, trying to brush him off. It was in fact not ‘jus’ a cold’. She felt awful- achy, too hot, too cold, and like someone was pounding her skull with a hammer. And nauseous.
"I was born at night but not last night, take the damn crackers Mellie." Sam grumbled, sitting on the edge of her bed. He sighed and removed a cool, damp, washcloth from the bowl on her bedside table and dabbed at her forehead. "You oughta go see a doctor."
She frowned at the proposition. “Nuh uh, m’fine.” The argument was not very convincing as she sighed at the washcloth on her forehead.
"Will you at least swallow an aspirin with yer gingerale?" He asked, looking at her pointedly. "I don't like how warm yer gettin'."
“Finee.” Mel sat up slowly and fumbled with the bottle of aspirin from her bedside table, exaggeratedly taking one with a tiny sip of the gingerale. “You don’ gotta take care of me Sam. You’ve got better things t’be doin’.”
“I watched you nearly collapse in the hall tryin’ to force yerself to go to work this mornin’- I’m exactly where I oughta be Melody Grace.” Sam rolled his eyes. Kids these days.
Huffing at being ‘Melody Grace-d’, she tried to sit up more. This was apparently the wrong move as her stomach turned and she lunged for the bowl. Mel groaned as the meager contents of her stomach were expunged.
Sam rubbed her back gently, and held her hair back with his other hand. “Anything else I can get for ya?”
She shook her head and carefully stood up to go to the ensuite, trying not to sway, bowl in tow. She hated the acidic feeling of sick in her mouth. “Gonna go rinse.”
“Don’t brush yet. It’ll wear down the enamel on your teeth cause of the acid.” Sam called after her.
Mel made an affirmative noise and gargled some water at the sink, keeping steady with a hand on the basin. She washed the bucket, made her way back over to her room, and crawled back into bed; feeling slightly better but also shitty. “M’gonna sleep now. You should go, don’ want you gettin’ sick from me.”
“I get sick I get sick.” Sam said, dismissive. “I ain’t leavin’ ‘til I’m sure yer fever’s broke.”
“You’ve already been sick lately, you don’ need whatever I got too!” Mel whined as she kicked off some covers, feeling much too warm.
“I weren’t ill just disgusted.” Sam said quietly. “‘M fine. And if I get yer sick, I’ll get yer sick, and then make Clint fuss over me and be all dramatic about it. Don’t worry none.”
“Oh..” She barely heard the second half, focused on the disgusted part. Mel curled up and quieted down, feeling worse again but not because of whatever illness she’d caught.
Sam sighed and squished in next to Mel on the bed. "No... hey, it weren't cause of you. I was disgusted by the things he said and stuff he reminded me of that weren't even connected to you.....It wasn't you Mellie. I promise."
Cuddling up against him even though she was kind of gross, Mel mumbled, “The same stuff you talked ‘bout before?”
"Yeah." Sam said softly, putting his arm around her. "Lil- my ex was.... a piece of work and he reminds me a lot of her. That's all."
“M’sorry Sammy.”
"You ain't got nothin' to be sorry for." Sam whispered. "I'm the one who bought the damn concert ticket in the first place. Ain't yer fault I met her."
“That rock concert you went to? In Louisville?”
"Yeah." Sam breathed intentionally slow through his nose. He half hoped Mel didn't remember him only being sixteen at the time. Part of him though, wondered if she did- would she get it immediately? Would she understand?
“Hm.” It took her a minute, brain foggy from illness, but she started when it did. “But weren’t you- you were…” Sam’d still been at home and dating someone like Warren? “Shit, Sam.”
"She was in her twenties it wasn't..." He stopped himself before saying 'that bad.' His therapist had been getting on him about that. "I don't wanna give you more than you can handle, hon."
Mel’s mind was spinning now. “Wait, is this the same girl you dated for three years?! The one you kept secret? Ohmigosh Sam, fuck.”
“Just don’- don’ tell anyone?” He asked, almost pleading. “I ain’t really even told Clint yet…..only folks who’d know are you, me, and my therapist.”
Even still, he was pretty sure Lucinda knew. Where else was he getting things like a brand new smartphone and fresh new clothes. Why else would he have been sneaking around at night. Where else would he have gotten the money for those fancier gifts?
He swallowed. “You gotta promise me Mellie.”
“Of course I won’t, but Jesus Sam, you oughta told someone.” Mel calmed down enough to wrap around him tightly, almost protectively. Literally everything from Sam’s last few years at home made sense now. How could she not have seen it? Mel felt guilty. Guilty for making him relive that and guilty for how she acted back then… always saying he needed to find his “Princess Charming”..
"I told ya...I thought it was my choice. Fuck Mel, I thought- I thought I was grown. I was an adult in pert near every other way and I just....she was no nice at first. Pretty and strong and I thought she were so cool for bein' from London and.....I thought - she supported my idea that if I was gonna be grown I oughta be treated like I was. I mean c'mon - it ain't everyday a boy from Cumberland County goes into the city and his favorite singer wants to kiss 'im outside the venue....she made me feel so special."
At first at least. There was always that caveat.
She hugged him tighter and buried her face in his shoulder. “I- m’sorry Sam, I’m so sorry.”
"It wasn't.... It wasn't all bad. Thanks to her I was able to get Jay that electric.... an' y'all used to be so tickled takin' pictures on my old phone....I'm okay now, I think." Sam said. "Sometimes it just.... the older I get the more I realize how...young I was and how proud of bein' unethical she was and then that fucking peacock laughed at me for tryin' to make sure we were all gonna be fine and bragged about not doin' ethics and doin' whatever he wanted and it just....it reminded me of her. I'm fine."
That made it so much worse. “I- I didn’t mean fer any of that t’happen. It shouldn’t’a. I’ve been such a fool.” Mel hiccuped. It was stupid that she was crying. This was about Sam, not her.
Sam hugged her close. "Shhhh- aint' yer fault, princess. I've got ya, it's okay."
“It ain’t! You- I-“ If there had been anything in her stomach, Mel would’ve thrown up again. She opted to cling onto Sam’s shirt instead. How could he even? When she’d?
"We're both grown and can make our own decisions. And it ain't yer fault if you didn't know. I still work for him, Mel- that's a choice I make. I'm managin'- it's okay. I ain't mad at ya and I ain't gonna blame you for my shit." He whispered, pulling her closer. "Not everythin's a blame game, hon. We ain't gotta feel guilty over shit that ain't our fault."
“Okay,” Mel sniffled quietly, even if she didn’t quite believe it.
"I love you, so much." Sam said quietly, kissing her forehead.
But he knew it wasn't enough.
I couldn’t keep you safe from the Cabots but Jesus Mel, I oughta be able to keep you safe from becoming me.
