Percival sat with his head between his knees, sobbing like a little girl. And why shouldn't he? He hated heights! Why had he allowed his new husband, Gwaine, to talk him into this horrible post-honeymoon hot-air balloon ride? With every sideways jolt of the basket, Percival wanted to puke, pass out, and die. Not necessarily in that order.
“Hey, Perc, look at that beautiful blue horizon. That might help,” Gwaine said.
Percival let out a long groan. “Shut UP. Please. Don't speak until we land.”
Gwaine sat down beside him and draped his arm around Percival.
“And for the love of God, don't touch me,” Percival growled.
Gwaine removed his arm. “Try to think about boring things. As a distraction.”
“Such as?”
“Quiches? Trilobytes?”
“Don't know what a trilobyte is.” …show more content…
“The professor told us…”
Percival’s med-student husband babbled on about extinct marine arthropods, but Percival blocked him out. He loved Gwaine, but at the moment, the man’s chatter was not helping, not when Percival had to focus every bit of energy on not vomiting.
The basket lurched again, and Percival slapped his hand over his mouth as his stomach twisted and gurgled. Nausea rose in his throat. Nope, this wave was not subsiding, and Percival was going to have to puke over the side of the basket. Which meant he’d have to stand and see how high up he was. He tried to move, but his legs were like jelly and would not cooperate.
“Gwaine?” Percival said, but it was too late. He threw up into his husband's lap, and he felt too sick to care.
Gwaine wrinkled his nose. “Wow. Maybe this was a terrible
“Hey, Perc, look at that beautiful blue horizon. That might help,” Gwaine said.
Percival let out a long groan. “Shut UP. Please. Don't speak until we land.”
Gwaine sat down beside him and draped his arm around Percival.
“And for the love of God, don't touch me,” Percival growled.
Gwaine removed his arm. “Try to think about boring things. As a distraction.”
“Such as?”
“Quiches? Trilobytes?”
“Don't know what a trilobyte is.” …show more content…
“The professor told us…”
Percival’s med-student husband babbled on about extinct marine arthropods, but Percival blocked him out. He loved Gwaine, but at the moment, the man’s chatter was not helping, not when Percival had to focus every bit of energy on not vomiting.
The basket lurched again, and Percival slapped his hand over his mouth as his stomach twisted and gurgled. Nausea rose in his throat. Nope, this wave was not subsiding, and Percival was going to have to puke over the side of the basket. Which meant he’d have to stand and see how high up he was. He tried to move, but his legs were like jelly and would not cooperate.
“Gwaine?” Percival said, but it was too late. He threw up into his husband's lap, and he felt too sick to care.
Gwaine wrinkled his nose. “Wow. Maybe this was a terrible