A Thru Zing - A Drericka Oneshot Collection

Under the Weather

The Count couldn't help but smirk. Not at her physical distress of course, but at her striking likeness to Mavis in her youth. Vampires didn't get sick often, but Drac could clearly remember how it was for his little girl whenever the rare bout of illness would fall upon her. The last time she'd fallen sick, it was with the 47-hour troll bumps that left Mavis bed-ridden and covered in large, green warts. She had depended on her father to help her pull through, and while Drac was by no means any sort of nurse, he still managed to get her back on her feet in no time. He figured if he undertook the same type of treatment for Ericka, she'd also have no problems getting well.

Eyes drifting back to the thermometer, Drac pulled it out of her mouth once the red line stopped rising up on the bar. He held it in front of him for inspection and frowned. Drac knew that human body temperature was significantly higher than those of vampires, but the 37.7 degrees Celsius reading seemed a little too high still to be normal.

"Is it bad?" the woman inquired in response to his contemplative silence.

Drac glanced at her and sighed. "Well, you're not quite one hundred percent yet, my love, but we'll get there soon."

Ericka made a small noise that sounded like a whine and flopped back onto the pillows with a huff. "Ugghhh... I can't stand this anymore. I feel horrible..."

"I know, my sweet," Drac whispered, grabbing a cloth damp with cold water and placing it on her forehead. "And I'm so sorry that you do."

"It's not your fault, Drac," Ericka assured. Then she gave a small, wheezy chuckle. "If anything, I should have seen this coming."

Drac cocked his head at this. "What do you mean?"

"Mal debarquement syndrome," she stated matter of factly. "I came across the term in a medical book back. It doesn't happen a whole lot, but it can if you've been out at sea for a while and then come back to land. And given that I've lived out on the cruise ship my whole life..." She trailed off, Dracula understanding what she was saying. She continued. "I heard it's mostly just nausea and dizziness, but sometimes it can lead to worse symptoms... like I guess what happened to me."

Drac sat, processing all this information and indeed recalling her frequent need to take a seat or rest for a moment with the claim of having vertigo when first arriving at the hotel. He remembered how he still felt as though the swaying of the ship was under his feet even when he was back on the sturdy ground of Transylvania. And that was only for a week's cruise. He couldn't imagine the type of adjustment Ericka was willing her body to make after thirty-five years. But then, as he continued to think, another question popped into his mind.

"Wait a minute... if Van Helsing was on that boat as long as you were, why didn't he get sick?" Drac had caught more than a few glimpses of the former monster-hunter since he'd joined the hotel, too, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary with him.

Ericka shrugged. "Maybe it has to do with the fact that he's half-robot now." She gave him an amused look, and soon the two burst out laughing. Drac's cackling eventually subsided, but Ericka's gave way into more violent coughing. She clutched her ribs at the force of the hacking, with Dracula rubbing soothing circles on her back until she managed to calm herself again. Once her breathing had returned to a regular pace, he brought the mug of tea back up to her lips, quenching the dryness in her throat that the coughing had caused. She took a sip and smiled gratefully up at her zing.

"Thanks," she mumbled around the rim of her mug.

"Don't mention it, love," he purred, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger once she'd finished sipping and bringing her mouth forward to meet his. Rather than kiss back, she muffled a protest and quickly pushed him back.

"Mmmph! MmDrac! No!" Ericka exclaimed. "I'm going to get you sick, sweetheart!"

Drac pouted. "I can't kiss my fiance?"

"Not on the lips yet, honeyfangs," she told him sternly. "Or else you're going to be ending up with a sore throat."

The Count sulked, knowing she was right. "Okay," he relented.

Ericka's expression softened and she gently took his hand in hers, interlacing her slender fingers with his.

"Hey," she breathed, "if it's any consolation, you're doing a much better job at this care thing than my great-grandfather ever did."

He brightened a little. "Yeah?"

She snorted. "Heck yeah! He just threw fishmen in to help get me cured - and all they knew how to do was administer spoonfuls of fish oil."

Drac scrunched his nose. "Eww..."

"Yeah, you said it," Ericka agreed, shuddering at the memory. "It did its job, but it was awful... I can still taste it!"

Dracula laughed and leaned his forehead against hers. "Well, I promise you that the only kind of spooning you'll get from me is going to be much, much sweeter than that."

Before she could question it, Drac removed his shoes and popped himself up on the couch, adjusting her body so that her back was tucked comfortably like a plush puzzle piece against his front. His arms wrapped around her waist and his cheek fell at her shoulder, nuzzling into her neck affectionately. Ericka gasped delightfully at his proximity, and placed her hands atop his arms, nestling further against his chest.

"I bet you like this more, hmmm?" he prompted teasingly.

Ericka giggled. "Yeah. Just don't get too carried away with my neck, there," she warned, enticing him further by tilting her head and exposing it more.

"You drive a hard bargain, my love," he answered, pressing his nose into the curve and inhaling deeply. "But I will try my best."

"Don't try, do," she retorted playfully. "Or else I might actually have to go back to the fish oil."

Drac paused. "Oh, please tell me you're joking, sweetheart."

Ericka snickered. "Yeah, I am. Why would I need the fish oil to make me feel better when you're already doing so well curing me?" She didn't say anything else after that, her lips occupying the mug's contents again, and Drac's own lips remaining occupied with a smug, self-satisfied smile.