Being Human: Cold Undead Hell (M, Vampire, Mitchell, Messy Cold)

[Mercury]

A/N: Even though I'm a little more of a Hal girl, here's a Mitchell fic. I made a lame attempt to explain how a vampire could get sick, but I'd appreciate it if you'd skim over that part

I decided to make his sneezes messy, because he seems to be a bit of a mess for most of the seasons. Also, this is set in season 1 so there's no need to have seen the show.

Enjoy

Cold Undead Hell

Mitchell curled up as tightly as he could, forcing his body into a ball under the covers. He could feel his eyes blackened and his gums ached like they were on fire when his fangs were pulled back, so he allowed them so remain exposed as he hid himself under the covers. He felt awful, freezing cold but his muscles were strained and burning. His stomach felt as if it was collapsing in on itself as it screamed in hunger, which wasn’t that unusual for a dry vampire, but he suspected that anything he tried to put in it would be rejected, regardless of whether it was food or blood.

“Ayichhooo! Hietcchhhh!” His sneezes were wet, and left thick tendrils on his arms, which had been wrapped around the pillow against his head. He groaned, too tired and sick to find the energy to fetch a handkerchief, so he wiggled out of the covers long enough to find an unwashed shirt from the floor to wipe off the mess.

Groaning, he snuffled and blew his nose into the cotton-blended depths. One of the buttons pressed painfully against his cheek and he had to readjust so that he could blow several times before he felt his nose was dry and tamed enough.

One of many reasons why a vampire drinking from another wasn’t generally considered good practice was that, apart from it being completely unsatisfying in terms of diet, it was also unhealthy. Viruses were spread not by drinking from an infected human, but by drinking from a fellow vampire who had tasted a sick human, something which happened quite often as a fevered body tasted sickly sweet and was a favourite for some.

Vampires couldn’t catch colds from humans, unless the virus had mutated into something more undead.

A violent shiver went though Mitchell’s body as his breath hitched again. He buried his face into the shirt in an effort to control the mess that he always seemed to produce.

“Yittchumpphh! Aeiktttpphhh!” He snuffled and watched the thin tendrils snap away as he removed his nose from the clothing. “Urghhhk.”

His head felt too full to allow room for thoughts and the pressure was starting to push between his eyes. He dragged himself into a sitting position, his body protesting the moment, but he managed to become slumped against his wallpaper behind him. It was less comfortable, but he flopped his head forward on his chest and closed his eyes. The dripping nose was something he could live with, even though he knew it looked less than flattering, if it relieved some of the discomfort.

He coughed wetly.

“Oof, that doesn’t sound too good.”

Mitchell jumped, which caused him to choke and splutter for a moment. He pushed himself up and wrapped his arm around his head, burying with his face into the crook of his elbow as he turned his head away from Annie. “Hyichhhh! Hehetichhhh!”

“Bless.”

“Whad are you doi’g here?”

“You’re going to be late for work, I thought you had overslept.”

“I’b dot goi’g.”

“I should say so.”

He looked over his arm at the ghost, and the dark curls which were bouncing in concern.

Mitchell’s own hair had fallen in front of his face, some caught between his arm and face where he had probably been caught in the firing-line. Annie pushed aside the ones she could and placed a hand on his forehead.

It was cold, the kind of cold that caused pain, and he jerked away from her touch, wiping his nose against his arm and pulling the blanket up his body between them. It both hid the slick on his arm and kept her at bay, and he couldn’t bring himself too much to care about the shocked and slightly hurt look that crossed her face at the rejection. He felt too rotten and tired to accommodate any other emotion.

Shuffling down and burying himself into the blankets, he glanced at her.

“You don’t feel warmer than normal.”

“Well, your had’s bloody freezi’g.”

“How are you even sick? Vampires don’t get sick do they?”

Mitchell groaned. “Id just happeds,okay? Just let be die agaid id peace.”

“Fine.”

The blanket went over his head as he tried to sniffle thickly. His nose was blocked but it was running with a seriousness that worried the vampire. He hadn’t been this sick for decades and last time he was he’d had the blood he needed to flush the infection from his body quickly. Without fresh blood there was no way of knowing how long it would take for the virus to be flushed out of his system, nor how bad it would get before then.

He stuck his arm out to grope around for the shirt he had been using. Mitchell’s breath hitched while his face felt pulled in a horrible and undoubtedly unattractive freeze-frame. He couldn’t find his shirt, and instead found a corner of his blankets and pressed them tightly to his face.

“Aiychhooo! Kietcchhhhhh! Huuhhhh... Uhttichhhhoo!”

The Irishman wiped his nose clean, but didn’t bother to blow it. He felt that if he tried then there was a real risk that it might make his head explode, so he remained sitting up but slumped. His lips were cracked and painful, but as the only option was to breathe through his mouth he left it stretched open as he started to drift off.

He just let himself breathe for a few moments. It wasn’t necessary, but was rather a long-standing habit from talking and smoking. He found not breathing to be slightly claustrophobic, and the congestion from this horrible cold was providing the same effect. Mitchell just tried to relax and let himself sleep, hoping that when he did his body would remember it didn’t need to breathe and he wouldn’t have to fight a very hopeless battle for oxygen.

It couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes of sleep before someone was knocking on Mitchell’s door. It caused the vampire to startle awake with a loud snort, which sent him into a bout of thick coughs. He didn’t bother to cover as his lungs contracted and tried to compensate for the short time when they hadn’t been used.

He didn’t feel overly breathless afterwards, and took a moment to wonder how horrible such an illness would be for someone who actually needed to breathe.

“George?”

The door opened cautiously.

“That sounded horrible, even thought the door.”

“Tha’gs.”

“Annie made tea,” he took a few cautious steps into the room and placed a mug on the bedside table. “Actually she made four. I think she might be a little worried about whatever it is you’ve managed to catch.”

Mitchell reached for the mug. Normally he couldn’t get to Annie’s tea before it went cold, but this one spread warmth through his hands to the rest of his body, “I bight have bissed her off earlier.”

“She did say you were a bit... ‘cranky’.”

Mitchell tried not to glare at the wolf. “Yeah, well...”

He set the mug aside and cupped his hands over his mouth and nose. “Yititchhhhh! Aecchhhhhooo!... Eyicchhhhh!”

“That’s more than a little disgusting.”

He squeezed his hands together and brought them down from his nose. They felt coated, but he hoped the motion had left his face relatively clean as he gave a thick, wet snuffle. “Yeah. Sorry.” He looked over at the fellow orderly, who had backed away slightly to stand in the doorway. “I’b dot condagious you dow.”

“No. No I don’t know, because you look and sound like shit and I don’t really want to take my chances.” He frowned softened a bit. “Annie has decreed that you need soup, so I’m going to go to the shops. What type do you want?”

Mitchell’s stomach turned at the thought of eating, but he knew he should have something. Humans usually ate when they were sick, and if he couldn’t have the warmth of blood then some hot soup was probably the next best thing.

He shrugged “Tobato?”

“Right. I’ll be back in a little while. You should...” he made a slightly vague gesture, “try and have a hot shower. The steam might help.”

“Tha’gs.”

“And I’ll get you some tissues while I’m out too.”

The Irish vampire sheepishly glanced down at the mess on his hands and agreed. “Lots of tissues.”

Edited March 27, 2014 by Mercury

[uniquelyme]

Oh my gooshness!! I've been really hoping for a Being Human fanfiction!! Thank you so much! This is wonderful!

[Coffee Chicken Barista]

This is so wonderful! I can't even....GAH!!!!! I love Being Human and Mitchell is so yummy but sick Mitchell is even yummier! Awesome!

[phoenix]

Mitchell! I adore Mitchell. I was so sad when the show ended, but I'm glad to see that the fandom is alive (heh) and well. I love any combination of him and George and Annie, so their various reactions to his illness are great. I'm so impressed with all the little details you put in about him not having to breathe, and how that would work with a cold, and all that. If there's more, I'd love to read it; if not, this is fantastic as is. :-) Yay for Being Human fics! What a great surprise.

[Kshu]

I love this!

[Hibiscus]

I love this!

^

Please continue!