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Steven’s legs were tucked up as tightly to his stomach as he could get them with the minimal room on the thin couch. Nearly bent in half, the only thing separating his thighs from his torso was the bulge of the hot, rubber water bottle held against his abdomen. He winced as the tiniest shift of his weight sent a shooting pain through his lower gut, a whimper of discomfort escaping his mouth as he was shocked by the ache.
“Hey, you okay?” The gentle, caring mumble of his partner’s voice came from behind him. Steven let out a shaky breath and nodded cautiously in response. Duff’s arm around him holding the bottle to Steven’s stomach pressed the heat a little tighter to his skin.
Today was the worst. He’d known it was coming, what with Duff starting his own cycle two days before—but the first day was always the most painful. He wasn’t allowed to take any more aspirin for another hour, so he had to sit and suffer through the cramps until they were abated by the pain medication for another short while.
He was only half paying attention to the reruns of He-Man playing on the flickering television screen in front of him. His vision was still a little blurry from the nausea and dizziness he had been experiencing all day, even if laying down had made some improvements. He shivered slightly as a chill racked through his body, goosebumps popping up across his clothed skin.
Steven didn’t usually like the feeling of clothes against his skin, often choosing tank tops or just a binder rather than something like the heavy sweatshirt he had on now. But due to shivers all day long, he’d opted for a baggy layer to hide his lack of binding and keep himself warm.
A tap on his shoulder had him letting out a small grunt in response. He didn’t turn to face Duff, not wanting to move and risk another sharp cramp to his stomach.
“Baby,” Duff murmured softly, pressing a kiss to the side of Steven’s head near his ear. Steven merely scrunched his nose, grunting out a small “hngh” in frustration. It was guaranteed Duff needed him to do something, and Steven wasn’t in much mood to move at the moment.
“C’mon, Stevie, we gotta change,” Duff encouraged, kissing him again as an unspoken apology. He knew it would be painful for Steven to be up and moving for too long, but they had a schedule to keep. It was a much better option than finding out you’d bled through your clothes later.
Steven whined unhappily as Duff began to raise himself up off the couch behind the smaller boy. He really didn’t want to move. The relief laying down brought his pain would only last for a minute or two after standing, and then the excruciating cramps would begin again.
Duff winced himself as he climbed over Steven, the wide-stretched movement of his legs enhancing his own ache. “You know you hafta, I’m not fighting on this,” he stated clearly as he stood up in front of the drummer. Duff held out a hand, giving Steven a raised eyebrow and a stern look.
With a frustrated groan, Steven reached for Duff’s outstretched hand while his other clutched the bottle to his stomach. He grimaced tightly as a deep cramp twisted his gut, gritting his teeth as he let Duff swing him up off the sofa. After taking a second to steady himself and get accustomed to the new, unrelenting ache of not being hunched over anymore, Steven let his boyfriend lead him waddling to the bathroom. The two took small steps, hand in hand while Steven kept an arm wrapped around his rubber pouch.
Duff guided Steven into the smaller room, closing the door behind them for a semblance of privacy. This was one of the more difficult moments of the whole monthly experience. “I’m gonna go first, okay? Can you wait?” He asked, glancing to Steven as he opened one of the cabinet drawers. Duff snatched out two small, white, square-shaped packages before pushing it shut once again.
Steven nodded, his facial expression queasy. He was fully focused on staying as still as possible, trying not to trigger any additional symptoms. Duff frowned softly, rubbing a hand up the side of the drummer’s neck in comfort before taking a seat on the toilet.
Steven was facing the door, a cloudy haze rimming the edge of his vision while dark spots danced around the center. Maybe he should be drinking more water. Duff was always telling him to stay extra hydrated this time of the month.
Before he knew it, the taller boy in question was standing again and wrapping an arm around his waist. “C’mon, babe, let’s sit,” he coaxed lovingly, leading Steven towards the toilet slowly. Steven stumbled the few steps before Duff lowered him down into a sitting position.
“You got it, okay? You can do this.” Duff handed the remaining pad to Steven with a questioning look, making sure the other was okay with taking care of himself. Steven nodded slightly in confirmation, trading Duff for his hot bottle.
He sighed under his breath, unwrapping the exterior of the offending package. It took him a minute or so, but soon enough his boxers were pulled back up over his legs and he was fully freshened up.
“Duff,” he croaked, glancing up at the older boy for direction. The bassist in question glanced to him quickly, as he’d been looking away for privacy’s sake. Duff gave him a closed-mouth grin, grasping him by the elbow and helping him to his feet again.
“You want this hot?” He asked as he helped Steven steady himself, referring to the bottle in his hand. As much as Steven wished he didn’t have to go a minute without it, he reluctantly agreed with a nod. It didn’t do him much good when it ran too cold.
Duff intertwined their fingers again and walked the two of them back out to the sitting room. He sat Steven down on the couch gently, leaving him with a blanket shrouding his body and a reassuring kiss on the forehead. As miserable as he was, Steven managed a content smile at the gesture. Duff really did take good care of him.
It probably helped that the taller man knew exactly what he was going through. Sure, their symptoms weren’t exactly the same, but they both had to deal with similar adverse side affects. The general emasculation of it all was difficult enough. Having each other to lean on, though, had really made the whole process a hundred times more manageable. Rather than being outcasts, they were accepted and seen. The two of them had fallen into a very easy rhythm of assisting each other through the dysphoric and unpleasant occurrence.
Steven made sure to give Duff an extra-grateful peck on the lips when he returned with the hot bottle, refilled with boiling water. Nobody understood or protected him like Duff. Of course not—nobody got it like Duff.
Because Duff had his cycle too.