[Table Challenge] - Claim: Russia/Canada - Table/Prompt - Food/20. Comfort
Title: Waking Dreams
Author: prussian_cactus
Claim: Russia/Canada
Character(s): Russia, Canada
Table/Prompt: Food/20. Comfort
Word Count: 1,064
Rating: T
Matthew sneezed explosively, his body jerking with the force. He rolled over and grabbed yet another tissue, blowing his running nose before throwing it in the general direction of his trash can. He honestly couldn’t bring himself to care about the giant pile of used tissues that was slowly taking over his room. Last night Ivan had found some under his pillow. It was then that he had decided that he had to take the next day off of work. Matthew had feebly protested, muttering something about how Kumanjama would take care of him. Ivan simply smiled at him and patted his sweaty forehead.
Swallowing to try and repress his urge to vomit, Matthew curled his legs up to his chest. The blankets that just a minute ago had felt oppressive now felt like they were the only protection against a fearsome blizzard. Sneezing yet again, Matthew decided that he best get himself in the bathroom, as soon as possible. Extracting himself from his sweaty bundle of sheets, he took quick but wobbling steps to the connecting bathroom. The tiles felt cool against his feet, but he had no time to appreciate that as he fell to his knees and dry-heaved. His throat ached, as did his pounding head. He attempted to stand before dropping to his knees as the familiar bile rose in his throat.
When he finally felt well enough to stand, Matthew rinsed out his mouth at the sink and stumbled back to bed. Though he had done nothing but lie down and occasionally stand for the past two days, he still felt completely drained. As he flopped back on the bed, Matthew noticed that his sheets were no longer damp with sweat or smelling of illness. They were clean light blue sheets with a pattern of polar bears all over, the ones that Alfred had given him for his birthday. With a small smile, he slid under the covers and fell into a restless fever dream.
xXx
He was running in a hallway that seemed to have no end. The only light source seemed to come from behind him, and as he ran it grew fainter, but he knew he had to keep running. So he ran, his legs growing exhausted. He fell, tripping over his own feet or some unknown thing in the dark. Every time he got up and stumbled forward, not knowing where he was going or why he had to get there, but knowing that if he stopped running, he would stop entirely.
The running was keeping him alive, he was sure. A voice called out from somewhere in front of him, suggesting that he stop, it would be fine. He pressed on, breath ragged and arms flailing in some semblance of attempting to keep time with his racing heart. Lights flare up, blinding him, causing him to stop running.
But that was okay now, okay for some reason buried in the back of his mind. He was in what looked like the tea shop Alfred had brought him to once, when he had confessed that he was bisexual and dating a guy. Matthew remembered the blond guy with the giant eyebrows who had kept looking anxiously over at them the entire time. Of course now he knew that that was Arthur, but now he was in the tea shop and it was bright and Matthew didn’t know what was going on. There was a man sitting at the counter with his back towards Matthew, and he didn’t recognize him, didn’t have a goddamned clue who he was, but maybe he knew what was going on.
He jogged over, not having fully broken the need to run. Tapping the man on the shoulder, he stepped back as he waited for him to turn around. And then the man did and his eyes were as black as the tunnel and Matthew found himself drawn in, found himself falling in…
But a voice was pulling him from the blackness, dangling a rope into the abyss. He grabbed onto it and clung to it like a child clings to its mother. The ascent was slow, twirling and dipping, and sometimes he felt just like letting go and floating back to the tea shop, but then the voice called again and he broke the surface.
Matthew’s eyes slowly opened and Ivan silently congratulated himself. He looked confused and his hair stuck up in every direction, but he smiled softly at Ivan. “How are you feeling?”
Wetting his dried lips and sitting up, Matthew responded, “As well as could be expected.”
Nodding, Ivan set down the tray he had been carrying. Sitting on it was a small bowl of red soup and an even smaller empty glass. “I made you some borscht. It is what my mother always used to make when my sisters or I were sick. She said it was better than chicken soup. That is what you normally make when I am sick, da?”
“Yeah. Thank you Ivan, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep it down.” Briefly pausing to blow his nose, Matthew picked up the spoon and stirred the beet soup. He blew on a spoonful before swallowing it. “What is this glass for?”
“Ah yes. When we got older, my mother would also give us vodka. Works every time. You will feel better in no time.” Matthew suddenly noticed the bottle of vodka that had been placed in his nightstand at some point, likely when Ivan had first come in. He uncapped it and poured a full shot before offering the small glass to Matthew.
Eating a bit more borscht, Matthew shook his head. “I think I will pass on that,” seeing the look of disappointment on Ivan’s face, he hurried to continue. “Not that I think that it’s a bad idea,” though it was, “The doctor told me to stick to water until I’m 100% better.”
Shrugging, Ivan downed the shot of vodka. “It is better not to waste it. Now I have to go take a phone call for work, but if you need anything I will get it.” With a smile, Ivan left the room, taking the bottle of vodka with him. Matthew slowly finished his borscht, luckily not feeling too nauseous. Shoving the tray over, he settled back down to sleep again, exhausted by dreams that felt like waking.