Traffic [Valduggery, Skulduggery Pleasant Fanfiction]

Basin

Valkyrie was sick. God, she was so, so sick.

She had felt it coming for a week. The sore throat she blamed on yelling, the aches she passed off as bruises from fights, the headaches she attributed to lack of sleep. But she had known, as one does, that she was getting sick.

When she opened her eyes Friday morning, her stomach was already rolling; rolling in the way that could only be quieted through vomiting. Valkyrie closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and proceeded to moan. She ached.

After a few moments of mental preparation, she rolled onto her side. She let out another moan as her stomach did backflips. Her head was full of steel wool, and she could only breathe through her mouth.

She managed to sit up, and she realized she was covered in sweat. It soaked through her sheets. It was really, really gross. A chill sneaked its way into the covers, and Valkyrie wrapped the sheet back around her.

Valkyrie stayed like this, staring at the far wall, marveling at how sick she was. She never got sick. She was almost angry.

Skulduggery knocked on the door.

"I know you said to never wake you up, and I know you're an incredibly lazy person, but I'm waking you up because we have actual things to do. Though, you're probably up and offended that I would dare insinuate that you are lazy, so I'm redacting that and—"

"I'm sick."

There wasn't an answer from the other side of the door.

"I'm really sick."

"That's unfortunate."

"I'm like, flu-sick."

The door slowly opened, and Skulduggery stuck his head in. "Good God, you look terrible."

"Cheers." Valkyrie curled fell back onto the bed, sniffling loudly. "I'm dying."

Skulduggery approached the bed like she was a wounded animal. "You're really sweaty."

"I'm actually dying. I ache. And my head aches. And I want to throw up because I know it will make me feel better, but at the same time, I really don't want to throw up."

"Please do not throw up."

"I'm going to throw up on you."

Skulduggery edged closer. "China wants to see us."

"I'm going to throw up on her."

"There's been a bomb threat, and while she doesn't think it's a problem, she's not amused. She'd like us to come in, take a look around, make sure no one looks suspicious. Trace the call."

"I'm going to throw up on the telephone."

Skulduggery laughed. "I can call in, we can go—"

Valkyrie threw up. Skulduggery lurched away.

"Fucking fuck!"

Valkyrie blinked at the pile of vomit. She looked at Skulduggery.

"I feel," she said, "so much better."

Skulduggery stared at her. "You are disgusting. You have snot all over your face. You have vomit in your hair."

"I love you, too."

Skulduggery stared at her for another moment, then walked out of the room. Valkyrie considered calling after him—maybe ask him to bring her some water—but she gave up and looked at the far wall. Skulduggery had painted her bedroom green. He said it was calming. It made her nauseous.

"There are times," Skulduggery said as he walked back into the room, "that I miss being alive. When I see someone bleed messily all over the place, I do not. I have never been more pleased in my entire life to be dead than right now, seeing you incapacitated." Skulduggery stopped in front of her. "Sit up."

Valkyrie groaned and managed to drag herself up in a sitting position. Skulduggery handed her some pills and a glass of water. Valkyrie popped them in her mouth, chewed, and washed the taste down with water.

"I've always wondered how you were going to die." Skulduggery picked her up off the bed, bridal style. "Maybe, I thought, you would die falling off of a high place. Didn't see the edge of a cliff. But never did I expect you to die of sweating to death. This is disgusting."

"I can pull off your arm," Valkyrie mumbled, resting her head against his shoulder.

"I'm having trouble holding onto you because you're so slimy." Skulduggery thunked down the stairs. "I wonder if you'd look like a raisin if I just let you sweat out all of your bodiliy fluids."

Skulduggery placed her on the couch. Valkyrie fell into the cushions, grasping for a blanket. There wasn't one. Valkyrie closed her eyes. Skulduggery poked her.

"Come on, get dressed."

"Don't I get a sick day?"

"You did get a sick day, but you used it up watching the Star Wars remake with Tanith. Get dressed, tie your hair back, and I'll get a basin. You will not throw up in the Bentley."

Skulduggery moved off. Valkyrie opened her eyes and saw her black clothes on the coffee table. She managed to get dressed while laying down, and she had just tugged on her boots when Skulduggery reemerged from the kitchen, brandishing a plastic bowl.

"You will throw up in this."

"I'm going to throw up on you. Did you get the vomit out of my hair?"

"I did. I also got you a box of tissues." He tilted the bowl, showed her the unopened box within.

"Pick me up."

"You can walk. Valkyrie, please stand up. Val—oh, for God's sake." Skulduggery handed her the bowl and scooped her up again. "You're lucky I don't want to train another twelve year old. I've already put so much work into you."

Valkyrie laughed. "I'm not a pet."

"I meant you're more like a nice knife I finally have balanced."

Valkyrie managed to make it to the meeting with China. She threw up on her shoes. Skulduggery carried her back to the car, laughing the entire time.