Work Text:
This was horrible —
Maverick muffled another round of bark like coughs in his elbow, resisting the urge to whine. Why the hell did he have to get sick now —and not like decent, respectable sick with maybe a fever or a bellyache. No — he was coughing his lungs out all hours of the night. He couldn’t sleep—couldn’t seem to have an appetite—all he’d been able to do all weekend was cough .
But now he couldn’t hide in his housing anymore. Now he had to buck up and head to base to meet up with the rest of the Flyboys for exercises. No flying, thankfully, because he honestly wasn’t sure how that would go, but he’d still have to try and make himself somewhat presentable, and a great deal more cognizant than he was currently feeling.
If he didn’t , he just knew Nick would know something was up. And Mav couldn’t have that—not when the RIO was still in a brace, still recovering from his screw up.
No, Nick didn’t need anything else to worry about, so he’d have to figure out something to help with these coughs.
Maverick dragged himself towards the bathroom cabinet, his shoulders aching as more coughs tore through his chest. He ignored the pale, exhausted face in the mirror, opening the cabinet and searching for any medication that might help. He knew Carole had stocked it with essentials at some point during their stint in Miramar.
“Cough suppressant—” Maverick muttered, reading the back of a box. “Looks like what I’m lookin’ for—-”
At this point? He was willing to try anything to stop the coughing.
He popped a couple of the pills out of the blister pack and dry swallowed them before he clenched his jaw, determined to make himself at least a little presentable before heading over to base. Time to do what he did best—become Maverick —
It seemed to work for a little while, and by the time he rolled up to the base parking lot he could almost say he was feeling better. He hadn’t even been coughing on the drive in!
In fact, he was able to seem somewhat normal for the beginning of class—even joking with Nick when the RIO gave him a bit of a visual inspection. These suppressants were pretty damn useful.
But then Viper started talking and the room started to feel warm and Maverick started to find himself growing sleepier and sleepier. What the hell —
He propped himself up on his hand, pressing his thumbnail into this finger, trying to keep himself cognizant and awake as he started to grow more and more dizzy. He felt like he’d spent the whole day tossing back shots instead of trying not to cough. What was happening?
“Pete?” Nick whispered, nudging him with his elbow. “You okay? Not sleeping again?”
“M ‘kay,” he muttered back, frowning at the sudden heaviness of his tongue.
Damn.
Maybe he should have kept coughing?
***********
“Damn—I know we joke about the kid being a hellion but did he really have to go so hard?”
“What the hell are you talking about, Wolfy?” Rick muttered, turning towards his RIO with an exaggerated head roll.
“Maverick—-look at him over there. Didn’t you see him during Viper’s lecture? Kid could barely sit up straight and kept lookin’ like he was dozin’ off. Now look at him! He’s practically trippin’ over himself—how the hell do you drink so much to still be drunk at 1300 the next day?”
“He’s what?” Rick turned to look in the direction his backseater was pointing, frowning when he spotted the smaller pilot stumble to lean up against a wall, burying his head in his hands. “Hey—Mav?”
“Hmm?” Maverick cleared his throat, frowning when he felt his chest tighten again.
“Mav, you with me?” Rick reiterated, moving to stand in front of the kid.
“S-s-sure–” the pilot slurred, trying to look up at the other man. He couldn’t seem to clear his vision, and it was starting to scare him.
“Talk to me, kid—What’s goin’ on?”
“You’re not really drunk, are you, Mav?” Leo raised an eyebrow, moving closer.
“M not—’m not drunk. Didn’t—didn’t even go out this weekend,” Maverick insisted, trying to stop the world from spinning. “D’nt feel g’d, Rick—”
“Yeah, I imagine not, buddy,” the pilot agreed, turning towards his RIO. “Wolf, go grab Nick—don’t know how the hell he missed this.”
“Didn’t—didn’t want him to know—he’d be w’rried,” the smaller man tried to explain.
“Well I’m worried now, Pete, so you gotta talk to me, kid. What’s going on?” Hollywood placed a hand under Maverick’s arm, helping to prop him up a bit higher on the wall.
“W’s—w’s coughin’----dizzy—”
Rick nodded, worriedly feeling how Mav’s chest seemed to hitch under his hand. Definitely chest congestion. “Okay so you were coughing this weekend—that’s rough. Don’t remember you coughing in class?”
“T’’k meds.”
“What kind of meds?” Hollywood said a bit firmer, looking over the younger man carefully. He was paler than he remembered him being last week, and the purpling under his eyes confirmed that the poor kid had probably spent most of the weekend coughing and wallowing in misery, not sleeping like he obviously needed.
“S’p—s’p—s’ppess—” Maverick stopped, poking his tongue in and out of his mouth.
“Suppressants? Like cough suppressants?”
“Pete? What the hell is going on?” Goose was suddenly there, Leo hot on his heels as he stooped the best he could with his neck brace.
“He’s not actin’ right,” Wolf offered.
“Said he spent the weekend coughing and this morning he took suppressants,” Rick relayed. “But now he’s dizzy and slurring his words and seeming almost drunk —”
“What the hell happened?”
“Reaction to the meds?” Goose asked, frowning as he reached out to feel his brother’s forehead.
“M t’red, Goo—” Maverick tipped his head forward to lean against his RIO’s shoulder.
“We’ve gotcha, honey,” Nick hugged Pete towards him, exchanging worried glances with the others.
“Let’s get him home and see if we can see what he took,” Wolf suggested. “Maybe it’ll say something about side effects and we can see if this is just somethin’ the kid got himself into.”
“Sp—spinnin’---” Maverick whined, clinging tightly to Nick’s shirt. “D’nt—d’nt wanna spin — ”
“You’re not spinning, honey,” Goose promised, closing his eyes for a brief moment. He knew Mav was still having nightmares about the hop, no matter what the idiot had been swearing for the last week. “Nobody’s spinning anymore. Everything’s okay—”
Maverick suddenly descended into loud, harsh coughs, sagging in Nick’s hold as he panted to catch his breath.
“Oh Jesus, kid,” Wolfe frowned, thumping Maverick lightly on the back.
“No wonder you’re so tired, huh, Mav? Coughing your lungs out—” Hollywood agreed, pulling the pilot’s arm off of Goose and tugging it over his shoulders. “Let’s get you out of here, huh?”
Maverick wanted to answer; hell, he wanted to tell them he didn’t need them to worry, that he was fine. That it was just some stupid cough—-
But he wasn’t sure he could inhale , not to mention the way his vision was blurring and everything was turning and spinning. Maybe he was dying? He felt like he might be—
“You’re okay, Pete,” Goose insisted, concern mounting as all his pilot seemed to do was whine, tipping sharply into Rick’s side.
“Your call, Nick—medcenter or housing?”
“Medcenter will wanna know what he took so I guess housing—see if this is just a side effect or some shit—”
“Then off we go,” Rick nodded, holding the smaller man a bit tighter. “Leo, you’ll drive.”
**************
“May cause dizziness, drowsiness, confusion, hallucinations, slurred speech, blurred vision, anxiety, insomnia, nightmares— shit , might as well just cough if it’s gonna cause all of that ,” Wolfe frowned, holding the box up for the others to see. “I mean I know they don’t always happen but damn seems like the kid’s got every one of ‘em.”
“Gonna have to make note of that,” Nick muttered sadly, looking back to where Pete was sound asleep on the couch. “Yet another thing for Pete to have to be aware of. Damnit. ”
“Whatdya mean, Nick?”
“Not a short story, fellas,” the RIO shrugged, moving back towards the couch and running his hand through Maverick’s hair. “Kid’s a mess of medical oddities, if we can ever get medical to take him seriously. Allergy to pineapple and certain pain meds, propensity for hiding his symptoms, abnormally low body temperature, bad reactions to anesthesia, childhood of malnutrition and other shit—-and now we’ve got something else to add to the damn list. No more suppressants for you, huh, kiddo?”
Predictably, Maverick didn’t answer, snuggling himself deeper into the couch as a few more coughs rattled his frame.
“I’m gonna go use the phone and call Ron,” Hollywood said softly. “See if he and Ice can bring some stuff over.”
“Maybe some different types of meds. Kid still needs to take something to help with his cough but we don’t want this again,” Leo agreed. “And shit to make soup or tea for the kid. Throat’s gotta be sore—”
“You guys don’t have to do that,” Goose protested mildly.
“Course we do,” the pilot smiled warmly. “You guys are part of us now—we’re not gonna leave you hangin’. Gotta show the kid he doesn’t need to drug himself for this shit—not gonna fault the guy for bein’ under the weather.”
Nick found himself grinning back, lifting his brother’s head and moving it to be pillowed in his lap as he continued running his hands through Pete’s hair. It was nice to have someone other than Carole helping him to look after the menace for once, and he knew it would be a hell of a lot better when Maverick was feeling a bit better too. More bodies to look after the crazy kid when inevitably tried to push himself too fast too soon.
“Everythin’s gonna be okay, honey,” he whispered to the sleeping man, feeling something inside of him unclench.
They were going to be just fine.