Im terrible and horrible at this consistency thing, as far as posting and storyline. Just for clarity purposes, Drew had the baby in December and this fic is taking place in the present.
Anyway enjoy my unapologetic bullshit.
~~
Finn sat up and kneaded his palm into his stomach, his stomach hurt before he went to bed but now he was just plain nauseous. He had attempted to sleep through it but had given up. He got out of bed without waking Drew and went downstairs.
He slipped into the half bath and braced himself on the vanity, spitting into the sink before looking at his reflection in the mirror. He looked like shit. His cheeks flushed and his hair was sticking up in all directions. He closed his eyes and took a breath, trying to gauge if his stomach was just unsettled or if he was about to puke.
His mouth flooded with saliva and he spit into the sink again, opening the tap to wash it down. He turned off the water and prodded at his stomach, working up a small burp that triggered a gag but nothing came up.
Finn sighed and rubbed his face, nothing was going to happen yet. He left the bathroom and got as comfortable as he could on the couch, turning the TV on even though he could barely hear it. He didn’t want the noise to disturb Drew or Maesie, especially Maesie. The baby had only recently started sleeping through the night and he didn’t want to mess that up.
It was around 4:30 when Drew padded down the stairs, carrying the baby monitor in one hand as she rubbed her eyes with the other. Finn was still awake, sprawled across the couch, his hand under his shirt cradling his stomach.
“What are you doing down here?” Drew asked, the end of the sentence swallowed by a yawn.
“Trying not to wake you up.” His voice came out weaker and more raspy than he had expected. “Apparently I failed.”
Drew shook her head and perched on the arm of the couch near Finn’s feet, “I’m still in sync with Mae’s old schedule, she sleep trained me apparently.” She poked his foot, “How about you, what’re you doing up?”
“My stomach hurts.” Finn grumbled, rolling onto his side. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Drew frowned “Achey or nauseous?”
“Nauseous,” He said, sitting up. “I thought I was going to throw up, but I didn’t. Just feeling gross.”
“Ew.” She said, scrunching her nose. “You think you can come up to bed?”
Finn nodded, turning off the TV and rubbing a hand across his stomach, “I’m so bloated.”
“I’m sorry, baby.” Drew cooed, carding her fingers through his hair. “Let’s go lay down.”
~~
“You okay?” Drew asked when Finn sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. She was sitting up against the headboard, feeding the baby that was cradled against her chest. Finn had woken up when Drew slid out from under him to grab Maesie and hadn't quite gotten back to sleep before his stomach demanded his attention.
Finn muffled a burp into his fist and then cleared his throat, “I don’t know.” He got up and walked into the ensuite, closing the door behind him. His stomach flipped and he lowered himself in front of the toilet, lifting up the lid to spit into the water. He stared into the water, waiting before he retched dryly. Nothing but drool falling into the toilet.
“Hey,” Finn jumped, too preoccupied with the storm swirling in his stomach to notice that Drew had come in. “Why don’t you drink some water.”
She stood behind him, a hand rubbing his back as she held a bottle of water over his shoulder.
“I'm so nauseous, but nothing comes up.” He wrapped his arm around his stomach and propped his head over the toilet with the other arm. “I just gag and dry heave…It hurts.” He whined.
“I know, baby.” Drew cooed, gently squeezing the back of his neck “It might help if you drink some water.”
“Did Maesie go back down?” He asked, weakly taking the water from her, the lid was already cracked.
“She went right back to sleep after eating.” Drew lowered herself to the floor, sitting against the wall behind Finn. Still rubbing circles into his back.
“You’re a really good mom.” Finn said quietly, taking a sip of the water and grimacing as it landed heavily in his stomach. “I might be a little biased, but I think you’re a natural.”
Drew scoffed, “I’m trying my best, but you’re not doing too bad either.”
Finn took a longer sip of water that resulted in a gag when he tried to swallow.
Drew gently directed him to lean back over the bowl. “Relax, Baby. Just breathe, it’ll happen if it needs to to”
He shifted to stare into the toilet more comfortably, he was growing impatient and he felt so sick. He gagged again, wetly this time a small amount of water coming back up.
Finn was frustrated, feeling the nausea swell and another dry heave leaving his body spitting into the cloudy water. He shifted again, propping himself up on one arm before bringing the other to his mouth. Taking a breath before shoving his fingers down his throat, gagging harshly around them before pressing on the back of his tongue again, this time yanking them out of his mouth as a torrent of vomit came up and splattered into the toilet.
He heard Drew exclaim behind him, but couldn’t put together the words as he coughed and spluttered around another wave. He had a second to breathe, tears running down his face from exertion, his nose burned and his throat was raw but his stomach squeezed again. A smaller mouthful of sick coming up.
“Why did you do that, you fucking psycho.” Drew asked as soon as it seemed that Finn was done, she was shuffling around the ensuite, handing him tissues and a washcloth.
Finn didn’t answer, cleaning off his hand and blowing his nose.
“Do you at least feel better?” Drew huffed, her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the sink.
He did feel better, his stomach still felt uneasy and he was wrung out and tired, but he felt less bloated and nauseous.
“Yeah.” He breathed, flushing the toilet and pushing himself up on wobbly legs. “Much better.
She sighed and moved out of the way for Finn to rinse his mouth in the sink, and properly wash his hands “Please don’t do that again, you could hurt yourself.”
“I’m sorry. I just felt so sick and nothing was happening.”
“I know, but there are better ways to make yourself puke, okay? We’re not teaching our daughter to stick her fingers down her throat.” She looked at Finn once he straightened and her face softened. He was still pale with a fever flush across his cheeks, dark circles under his eyes.
“Let’s lay back down, you look like death walking.”
They laid back in bed and Finn tucked himself against Drew, his head resting between her thigh and stomach as she sat on her phone, absentmindedly running her fingers through his hair. They only got to sit like this for a couple minutes before Maesie started babbling over the baby monitor.
Drew sighed and sat her phone down, “Duty calls.” she said, gently nudging Finn off her lap.
“I can get her.” He said, weakly.
“Uh, no you can’t. You have the plague.”
Finn didn’t even have a chance to argue before Drew disappeared down the hall and Finn let his eyes drift close, listening to Drew coo at their daughter through the baby monitor.
Im terrible and horrible at this consistency thing, as far as posting and storyline. Just for clarity purposes, Drew had the baby in December and this fic is taking place in the present.
Anyway enjoy my unapologetic bullshit.
~~
Finn sat up and kneaded his palm into his stomach, his stomach hurt before he went to bed but now he was just plain nauseous. He had attempted to sleep through it but had given up. He got out of bed without waking Drew and went downstairs.
He slipped into the half bath and braced himself on the vanity, spitting into the sink before looking at his reflection in the mirror. He looked like shit. His cheeks flushed and his hair was sticking up in all directions. He closed his eyes and took a breath, trying to gauge if his stomach was just unsettled or if he was about to puke.
His mouth flooded with saliva and he spit into the sink again, opening the tap to wash it down. He turned off the water and prodded at his stomach, working up a small burp that triggered a gag but nothing came up.
Finn sighed and rubbed his face, nothing was going to happen yet. He left the bathroom and got as comfortable as he could on the couch, turning the TV on even though he could barely hear it. He didn’t want the noise to disturb Drew or Maesie, especially Maesie. The baby had only recently started sleeping through the night and he didn’t want to mess that up.
It was around 4:30 when Drew padded down the stairs, carrying the baby monitor in one hand as she rubbed her eyes with the other. Finn was still awake, sprawled across the couch, his hand under his shirt cradling his stomach.
“What are you doing down here?” Drew asked, the end of the sentence swallowed by a yawn.
“Trying not to wake you up.” His voice came out weaker and more raspy than he had expected. “Apparently I failed.”
Drew shook her head and perched on the arm of the couch near Finn’s feet, “I’m still in sync with Mae’s old schedule, she sleep trained me apparently.” She poked his foot, “How about you, what’re you doing up?”
“My stomach hurts.” Finn grumbled, rolling onto his side. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Drew frowned “Achey or nauseous?”
“Nauseous,” He said, sitting up. “I thought I was going to throw up, but I didn’t. Just feeling gross.”
“Ew.” She said, scrunching her nose. “You think you can come up to bed?”
Finn nodded, turning off the TV and rubbing a hand across his stomach, “I’m so bloated.”
“I’m sorry, baby.” Drew cooed, carding her fingers through his hair. “Let’s go lay down.”
~~
“You okay?” Drew asked when Finn sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. She was sitting up against the headboard, feeding the baby that was cradled against her chest. Finn had woken up when Drew slid out from under him to grab Maesie and hadn't quite gotten back to sleep before his stomach demanded his attention.
Finn muffled a burp into his fist and then cleared his throat, “I don’t know.” He got up and walked into the ensuite, closing the door behind him. His stomach flipped and he lowered himself in front of the toilet, lifting up the lid to spit into the water. He stared into the water, waiting before he retched dryly. Nothing but drool falling into the toilet.
“Hey,” Finn jumped, too preoccupied with the storm swirling in his stomach to notice that Drew had come in. “Why don’t you drink some water.”
She stood behind him, a hand rubbing his back as she held a bottle of water over his shoulder.
“I'm so nauseous, but nothing comes up.” He wrapped his arm around his stomach and propped his head over the toilet with the other arm. “I just gag and dry heave…It hurts.” He whined.
“I know, baby.” Drew cooed, gently squeezing the back of his neck “It might help if you drink some water.”
“Did Maesie go back down?” He asked, weakly taking the water from her, the lid was already cracked.
“She went right back to sleep after eating.” Drew lowered herself to the floor, sitting against the wall behind Finn. Still rubbing circles into his back.
“You’re a really good mom.” Finn said quietly, taking a sip of the water and grimacing as it landed heavily in his stomach. “I might be a little biased, but I think you’re a natural.”
Drew scoffed, “I’m trying my best, but you’re not doing too bad either.”
Finn took a longer sip of water that resulted in a gag when he tried to swallow.
Drew gently directed him to lean back over the bowl. “Relax, Baby. Just breathe, it’ll happen if it needs to to”
He shifted to stare into the toilet more comfortably, he was growing impatient and he felt so sick. He gagged again, wetly this time a small amount of water coming back up.
Finn was frustrated, feeling the nausea swell and another dry heave leaving his body spitting into the cloudy water. He shifted again, propping himself up on one arm before bringing the other to his mouth. Taking a breath before shoving his fingers down his throat, gagging harshly around them before pressing on the back of his tongue again, this time yanking them out of his mouth as a torrent of vomit came up and splattered into the toilet.
He heard Drew exclaim behind him, but couldn’t put together the words as he coughed and spluttered around another wave. He had a second to breathe, tears running down his face from exertion, his nose burned and his throat was raw but his stomach squeezed again. A smaller mouthful of sick coming up.
“Why did you do that, you fucking psycho.” Drew asked as soon as it seemed that Finn was done, she was shuffling around the ensuite, handing him tissues and a washcloth.
Finn didn’t answer, cleaning off his hand and blowing his nose.
“Do you at least feel better?” Drew huffed, her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the sink.
He did feel better, his stomach still felt uneasy and he was wrung out and tired, but he felt less bloated and nauseous.
“Yeah.” He breathed, flushing the toilet and pushing himself up on wobbly legs. “Much better.
She sighed and moved out of the way for Finn to rinse his mouth in the sink, and properly wash his hands “Please don’t do that again, you could hurt yourself.”
“I’m sorry. I just felt so sick and nothing was happening.”
“I know, but there are better ways to make yourself puke, okay? We’re not teaching our daughter to stick her fingers down her throat.” She looked at Finn once he straightened and her face softened. He was still pale with a fever flush across his cheeks, dark circles under his eyes.
“Let’s lay back down, you look like death walking.”
They laid back in bed and Finn tucked himself against Drew, his head resting between her thigh and stomach as she sat on her phone, absentmindedly running her fingers through his hair. They only got to sit like this for a couple minutes before Maesie started babbling over the baby monitor.
Drew sighed and sat her phone down, “Duty calls.” she said, gently nudging Finn off her lap.
“I can get her.” He said, weakly.
“Uh, no you can’t. You have the plague.”
Finn didn’t even have a chance to argue before Drew disappeared down the hall and Finn let his eyes drift close, listening to Drew coo at their daughter through the baby monitor.
Okay, so i have 2 finn and drew fics ready to go, one is a little backwards from the last fic i posted with Julian, not that it really matters. and the other one is just a sprinkle of domestic fluff and a huge helping of self indulgent bullshit.
OR i have another Jules and Blake fic started with a sick Jules that i can easily finish over the weekend.
do we have a preference? Finn and Drew now or Jules and Blake a little later?
sorry about being so painfully inconsistent lately... i got a new phone so it's taken a minute to get everything set back up. enjoy a random Julian fic no one asked for and a new OC that also no one asked for :)
~~
Julian was making an effort.
An effort to be more social, an effort to be more outgoing.
An effort to not be so lonely.
After Julian had broken up with Max he felt as if a whole part of his life went down the drain.
He knew that it was for the best and they still talked from time to time, but they were both in college. They were both busy and had social lives to attend to… well at least Max did.
Max had made a whole bunch of friends living on campus. He had a lot of opportunities to make more.
Julian commuted… he went to school and went home. He didn’t have a roommate or a meal plan to eat in the meal hall. He just… went to class. Which was sad.
When Jules caught wind from a class acquaintance that there was a frat party on campus this weekend, he decided he was going to go. Get over himself, be more involved, try not to be so nervous all the time.
This was how he found himself at a shitty house on the outskirts of campus standing against a wall with a lukewarm beer in his hand, people watching. Talking to no one.
He didn’t really get all the fuss about frat parties, they were essentially glorified house parties, just hotter and stickier.
He regretted wearing nice sneakers as he pushed himself away from the wall, the soles sticking to the floor as he walked.
He went out onto the front porch where the night air cooled him off quickly. He sat his drink on the railing, it wasn’t like he was drinking it anyway. He had to drive home, the beer was just to try and mix in with the crowd.
He turned around and leaned against the railing, pulling his vape out of his pocket.
He took a drag and held it, closing his eyes and dropping his head back before exhaling.
Julian felt someone knock into the railing further down, sending vibrations through the wood.
He opened his eyes and looked down the porch where he saw a girl leaning heavily with her elbows on the rail.
She had shoulder length hair that was black and… green, maybe? She was wearing a jean jacket and black leggings tucked into a pair of doc marten’s. Her eyes were closed and she was taking slow, measured breaths.
Julian was about to look away, pick up his red solo cup and find a different place to stand by himself, when she pitched forward and vomited over the side of the porch.
She grabbed the railing, her hair falling around her face as she gagged and coughed.
Jules edged closer, waiting until she seemed done before he opened his mouth.
“Uhm… are you alright?” He asked.
The girl jumped, clearing her throat and straightening slightly before nodding, “Yeah, sorry. Too much shitty beer and one too many shots I guess.” She sniffed and used her sleeve to wipe her nose and mouth. “Fuck.” She mumbled, leaning back over the railing as she gagged and another wave of pure liquid splattered into the grass below.
“Do you need anything? Water?” Julian asked, standing awkwardly to the side. He wanted to try and pull her hair out of her face, or rub her back, but he didn’t want to be weird by touching a girl he’s never even met.
“What I need is to go back to my room.” She said, stepping away from the railing and stumbling backward.
Julian stepped behind her, one hand on her back and the other on her shoulder as he stopped her from falling on her ass.
“How about we sit down actually?” He said, helping her sit down on the steps of the porch.
She dropped her head into her hands and groaned, “I’m… really drunk.” she mumbled.
“You don’t say?”
When she seemed like she was in an okay state for him to walk away, Julian slipped back inside to look for some water. Surprise, bottles of water were nowhere to be found. He eventually settled on filling a solo cup with tap water and going back outside.
The girl was still sitting where he had left her, her arms folded on her lap and her head laying in them.
“Hey, you should drink this… or at least try and get the taste of vomit out of your mouth.”
She lifted her head and looked up at him with unfocused eyes, staring for a second before taking the cup from him.
“You didn’t roofie this did you?” She asked, bluntly.
“Your water? No. It is from the tap though so only god knows what’s in it.” Julian dropped down onto the stairs next to her.
She let out a weak scoff, but took a sip of the water.
“Are you… here by yourself? I could get your friends if you want. I’m sure you’d rather have someone you know than some rando at a party.”
She shook her head, “They left a little while ago, I stayed because… well, because I’m stupid and lack self preservation.”
Julian didn’t know how to respond to that, choosing to just nod and move on.
“Do you need a ride back to your dorm? My car is just around the corner, I can save you a walk to the quad.”
She sighed and took another sip of water, “I’m full of bad decisions tonight, so fuck it. Sure I would love a ride.”
Julian stood and held his hand out to help her up, “I’m Julian by the way.”
“Blake.” She said and took his hand. As soon as she was upright she dropped it and turned away, bracing herself on her knee with her free hand.
“Fuck, I feel sick.”
Julian took the cup from her and hesitantly placed a hand on her back. She let out a small burp before a wave of slightly chunkier vomit than before splattered into the grass. Jules sat the water down on the steps and grabbed her shoulder to keep her from falling forward and rubbed her back. She held her own hair out of her face to the best of her ability as another wave came up punctuated with a watery cough.
Blake sniffed and wiped her mouth with her sleeve again before straightening.
“I won’t puke in your car, I promise.” She said quietly, picking up her water from the steps and swishing some around in her mouth before spitting it in the grass.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
The walk to his car was mostly silent, Blake drinking her water and walking as steadily as she was capable.
“Are you gay?” She blurted out of nowhere as they walked up to Julian’s car.
“Uh, no?” Julian answered, not really expecting to have to explain his sexuality.
“Huh, it’s just that you haven’t made any moves on me. Usually a drunk and vomiting college girl at a frat party is free game.”
“I just met you 15 minutes ago and 10 of that you’ve spent puking so making moves on you wasn’t at the forefront of my mind.” Julian said, opening the door for her and making sure she was fully in the door before he closed it.
“You’re a girl’s girl.” She said as Julian got in the driver’s seat. Her head all the way back against the headrest. “That usually means you’re gay.”
“I’m not gay, I’m just not awful.”
Julian drove the 5 minutes from the house to the dorms and was almost sure Blake had fallen asleep until he put the car in park and she opened her eyes.
“Thanks for the ride.” She mumbled tiredly, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Sorry you had to watch me vomit… twice.”
“It really was no problem at all, it happens to the best of us.”
When Blake opened the door Julian stopped her, “Can I- can I give you my number? Just so you can text me when you’re back in your dorm and alright? You’re just pretty drunk and I have anxiety so I just want to know you didn’t get scooped up by some freak during your walk across the quad.”
“Mmm,” Blake hummed and pulled out her phone, “making moves.”
Julian rolled his eyes, “NOT making moves. I’m-”
“Just not awful.” Blake cut him off. “Goodnight Julian, I’ll text you when I’m back in my dorm and tucked safely in bed for the night.”
“Thanks. Goodnight.”
Blake shut the door and walked through the grass toward her dorm.
Julian let out a deep breath and laid his head on the steering wheel, going over the last 30 minutes of conversation and how he could have fucked it up.
His phone vibrated and he lifted his head to look at it.
It’s Blake. I’m in my dorm with Gatorade and crackers, safe and sound.
sorry about being so painfully inconsistent lately... i got a new phone so it's taken a minute to get everything set back up. enjoy a random Julian fic no one asked for and a new OC that also no one asked for :)
~~
Julian was making an effort.
An effort to be more social, an effort to be more outgoing.
An effort to not be so lonely.
After Julian had broken up with Max he felt as if a whole part of his life went down the drain.
He knew that it was for the best and they still talked from time to time, but they were both in college. They were both busy and had social lives to attend to… well at least Max did.
Max had made a whole bunch of friends living on campus. He had a lot of opportunities to make more.
Julian commuted… he went to school and went home. He didn’t have a roommate or a meal plan to eat in the meal hall. He just… went to class. Which was sad.
When Jules caught wind from a class acquaintance that there was a frat party on campus this weekend, he decided he was going to go. Get over himself, be more involved, try not to be so nervous all the time.
This was how he found himself at a shitty house on the outskirts of campus standing against a wall with a lukewarm beer in his hand, people watching. Talking to no one.
He didn’t really get all the fuss about frat parties, they were essentially glorified house parties, just hotter and stickier.
He regretted wearing nice sneakers as he pushed himself away from the wall, the soles sticking to the floor as he walked.
He went out onto the front porch where the night air cooled him off quickly. He sat his drink on the railing, it wasn’t like he was drinking it anyway. He had to drive home, the beer was just to try and mix in with the crowd.
He turned around and leaned against the railing, pulling his vape out of his pocket.
He took a drag and held it, closing his eyes and dropping his head back before exhaling.
Julian felt someone knock into the railing further down, sending vibrations through the wood.
He opened his eyes and looked down the porch where he saw a girl leaning heavily with her elbows on the rail.
She had shoulder length hair that was black and… green, maybe? She was wearing a jean jacket and black leggings tucked into a pair of doc marten’s. Her eyes were closed and she was taking slow, measured breaths.
Julian was about to look away, pick up his red solo cup and find a different place to stand by himself, when she pitched forward and vomited over the side of the porch.
She grabbed the railing, her hair falling around her face as she gagged and coughed.
Jules edged closer, waiting until she seemed done before he opened his mouth.
“Uhm… are you alright?” He asked.
The girl jumped, clearing her throat and straightening slightly before nodding, “Yeah, sorry. Too much shitty beer and one too many shots I guess.” She sniffed and used her sleeve to wipe her nose and mouth. “Fuck.” She mumbled, leaning back over the railing as she gagged and another wave of pure liquid splattered into the grass below.
“Do you need anything? Water?” Julian asked, standing awkwardly to the side. He wanted to try and pull her hair out of her face, or rub her back, but he didn’t want to be weird by touching a girl he’s never even met.
“What I need is to go back to my room.” She said, stepping away from the railing and stumbling backward.
Julian stepped behind her, one hand on her back and the other on her shoulder as he stopped her from falling on her ass.
“How about we sit down actually?” He said, helping her sit down on the steps of the porch.
She dropped her head into her hands and groaned, “I’m… really drunk.” she mumbled.
“You don’t say?”
When she seemed like she was in an okay state for him to walk away, Julian slipped back inside to look for some water. Surprise, bottles of water were nowhere to be found. He eventually settled on filling a solo cup with tap water and going back outside.
The girl was still sitting where he had left her, her arms folded on her lap and her head laying in them.
“Hey, you should drink this… or at least try and get the taste of vomit out of your mouth.”
She lifted her head and looked up at him with unfocused eyes, staring for a second before taking the cup from him.
“You didn’t roofie this did you?” She asked, bluntly.
“Your water? No. It is from the tap though so only god knows what’s in it.” Julian dropped down onto the stairs next to her.
She let out a weak scoff, but took a sip of the water.
“Are you… here by yourself? I could get your friends if you want. I’m sure you’d rather have someone you know than some rando at a party.”
She shook her head, “They left a little while ago, I stayed because… well, because I’m stupid and lack self preservation.”
Julian didn’t know how to respond to that, choosing to just nod and move on.
“Do you need a ride back to your dorm? My car is just around the corner, I can save you a walk to the quad.”
She sighed and took another sip of water, “I’m full of bad decisions tonight, so fuck it. Sure I would love a ride.”
Julian stood and held his hand out to help her up, “I’m Julian by the way.”
“Blake.” She said and took his hand. As soon as she was upright she dropped it and turned away, bracing herself on her knee with her free hand.
“Fuck, I feel sick.”
Julian took the cup from her and hesitantly placed a hand on her back. She let out a small burp before a wave of slightly chunkier vomit than before splattered into the grass. Jules sat the water down on the steps and grabbed her shoulder to keep her from falling forward and rubbed her back. She held her own hair out of her face to the best of her ability as another wave came up punctuated with a watery cough.
Blake sniffed and wiped her mouth with her sleeve again before straightening.
“I won’t puke in your car, I promise.” She said quietly, picking up her water from the steps and swishing some around in her mouth before spitting it in the grass.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
The walk to his car was mostly silent, Blake drinking her water and walking as steadily as she was capable.
“Are you gay?” She blurted out of nowhere as they walked up to Julian’s car.
“Uh, no?” Julian answered, not really expecting to have to explain his sexuality.
“Huh, it’s just that you haven’t made any moves on me. Usually a drunk and vomiting college girl at a frat party is free game.”
“I just met you 15 minutes ago and 10 of that you’ve spent puking so making moves on you wasn’t at the forefront of my mind.” Julian said, opening the door for her and making sure she was fully in the door before he closed it.
“You’re a girl’s girl.” She said as Julian got in the driver’s seat. Her head all the way back against the headrest. “That usually means you’re gay.”
“I’m not gay, I’m just not awful.”
Julian drove the 5 minutes from the house to the dorms and was almost sure Blake had fallen asleep until he put the car in park and she opened her eyes.
“Thanks for the ride.” She mumbled tiredly, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Sorry you had to watch me vomit… twice.”
“It really was no problem at all, it happens to the best of us.”
When Blake opened the door Julian stopped her, “Can I- can I give you my number? Just so you can text me when you’re back in your dorm and alright? You’re just pretty drunk and I have anxiety so I just want to know you didn’t get scooped up by some freak during your walk across the quad.”
“Mmm,” Blake hummed and pulled out her phone, “making moves.”
Julian rolled his eyes, “NOT making moves. I’m-”
“Just not awful.” Blake cut him off. “Goodnight Julian, I’ll text you when I’m back in my dorm and tucked safely in bed for the night.”
“Thanks. Goodnight.”
Blake shut the door and walked through the grass toward her dorm.
Julian let out a deep breath and laid his head on the steering wheel, going over the last 30 minutes of conversation and how he could have fucked it up.
His phone vibrated and he lifted his head to look at it.
It’s Blake. I’m in my dorm with Gatorade and crackers, safe and sound.
I need to see Max with Vin back at the Atwood’s!! please please pleasseee
Max needed to go to the gym.
That was the conclusion he arrived at as he helped Vince up the stairs in the Atwood residence, following Lucas and Bell, feeling like he was in some sort of procession.
Luke was wobbling too and Max's eyes were locked to his back, not because he cared if the guy fell backwards and split his head — he didn't — but because it would cause both him and Vince and Bell to fall as well. Twice he had to give Luke a shove to keep him from tipping back, Bella throwing him a grateful look over her shoulder, as she had her arms wrapped around her husband in some feeble attempt to help.
They staggered into the second floor and parted ways, Vince and Max heading to the guest room. Vin collapsed onto the bed as soon as they made it inside, ignoring as Max said, "wait, don't lie down just ye-"
He sunk against the pillows with a sigh, "how's it possible that my whole body aches?"
"Don't ask me," Max shrugged, inspecting the bedroom. It was a mess, since it wasn't like anyone had been in the headspace to clean up, not the two sick as dogs men, certainly not Bell juggling the idiots.
He started moving around, picking up the discarded clothing and the half filled with vomit bin, gagging the entire time as he walked into the suite to dispose of it down the toilet. For good measure, Max washed it with the shower's hot water and also gave the toilet a good scrub. Ideally he'd have something other than some bodywash, actual cleaning products, but he was not up to go downstairs rummage to through the Atwood's pantry or knock on their door, so bodywash it was.
"Max?" Vince called from the bedroom and Max moved back, continuing on his cleaning spree. He opened the window to let in some fresh air and then went through the dresser, ignoring the painful stab at his heart when he realized just how full the drawers already were. This felt too permanent for his taste, he didn't want Vince here... He wanted-
Well, that wasn't an option.
"Arms up," Max shook his head to disperse the thought as he grabbed a clean shirt, "let's get you out of that filthy hoodie."
"I wanna shower," Vince groaned, obeying for once in his life, and Max rolled his eyes dramatically.
"You can barely stand, you're not showering," he said sharply, stripping Vin and trying hard not to stare. It felt like eons had passed since he had last seen him shirtless, but surely that wasn't the case. Max cursed himself, feeling like a creep as his eyes latched on the expanse of Vin's exposed chest.
"I'm stinky," Vince groaned and Max snorted, fondness threatening to swallow him up.
"It's more like a husk," he teased, grinning as Vin's cheeks turned a deep crimson.
"Gross," he grumbled, sticking his arms into the fresh new shirt and the collapsed back down with a huff, throwing an arm around his stomach and the other over his face in an attempt to shield his eyes from the brightness, "I still feel so gross, I thought hospitals were meant to do something."
"They do," Max chuckled, sitting next to him, "they bill you."
The bottom half of Vin's face was exposed and his smile was bright. Max felt victorious for earning it.
He planted a hand on Vince's stomach, back to the position they had been at the hospital and Vin sucked in a breath, "gentle, baby, it's killing me..."
Baby.
Vince didn't seem like he registered his faux pas or how Max was currently having a heart attack over it. Instead he just scooted on the bed, in order to give the blonde more room.
"I'm gentle," Max argued, weakly, pressing around with little to no pressure, rubbing his knuckles against the soft fabric. He wondered if it'd be better under the shirt, but Vin hadn't said anything and he didn't want it to seem like he was finding any excuse to touch his naked torso — he was — so Max stayed quiet.
Vince grimaced, turned his head and muffled a burp against the pillow as Max pressed above his belly button, near his ribs. He continued rubbing unbothered by it, feeling the way his (ex, urgh) boyfriend's belly was sticking out, still tender and bloated. He was mindlessly as he did it, essentially zoning out.
After what felt like just a couple minutes but was probably up in the dozens, he felt Vince go boneless and breathe out, as the cramping eased. Max smiled, moved to get up from the bed, but before he managed, Vin's hand curled around his wrist and kept him put.
"Don't leave."
Christ. Max glared at Vince, pursing his lips. How was he ever supposed to get over this asshole, when he said things like this?
He sat back down.
"You're real clingy, you know that?" Max teased, reaching in so he could brush Vin's messy, greasy curls back. Vin's nose touched the inside of his wrist as he did it and Max bit down a smile at the fluttering that caused him.
"I'm not clingy," Vin scoffed, rolled onto his side, "I'm sick."
"Food poisoning is hardly sick," Max goaded him on, grinning, running a hand up Vince's back in a soothing manner despite the teasing edge on his voice, "I think you should eat something. How does soup sound?"
"Nasty," Vince bit back, face scrunching up, "stomach still doesn't feel good."
"Well, I don't really care," Max toyed with a curl at his nape, "you're dehydrated and you tend to faint when you don't eat, so uh, I'm gonna cook you something..."
"Is Luke okay?" Vince was pouting, honest to God pouting and an image flashed in front of Max's eyes, a kid with huge chocolate eyes flat on his back and glaring at him, back in the playground. Adorable then, adorable now.
"Atwood is fine, Bella is fussing over him like a worried mother," Max let his fingers drag, from the curl he had been curling and uncurling around his finger, to Vince's cheek. Touchy and needy, how did he have the nerve to call Vin clingy? If his ex realized the hypocrisy, though, he didn't call it out. Max stroked at the prickly surface, more than just the start of a beard, trying to hide away his dimples.
"He scared me," Vince mumbled, eyes slipping closed like a cat as Max continued to touch every patch of exposed skin he could get his hands on, "in the ambulance. Shaking."
Max hadn't been aware Vin had been there for the seizure. He shuddered at the thought, thinking of how worried he had been when Vin had collapsed on him a couple months before, during his first day of class. That alone had nearly sent him into an early grave, a seizure would've killed him from fright.
"It was just dehydration," Max reassured him, "doctor told Jonah."
A pause, a huff. Vince's eyes fluttering open so they could burn into Max's, "did we see his doctor? Did Bella?"
Max shrugged, confused on why this was important at all, "I don't think so, he just talked with Jonah and Banks passed the message on to us."
"He, uh?" Vince snorted, closed his eyes again, "fucking coward."
Max felt like he was missing at least two different points, he couldn't follow what Vin was saying. It didn't matter anyway. He patted Vin's bicep, "get some rest while I figure out how to make you soup."
When Vince's eyes followed him all the way to the door, Max placed his hands on his hips, fighting the urge to smile, "I'm not leaving. You can quit the sad cow eyes act, man."
A smile, not at all embarrassed, broke over Vin's face. He shrugged, "okay," then yawned, "check on Luke?"
Fuck no, Max thought, but didn't say it. He nodded, "sure. Try to rest."
To his credit, he did knock on the master suite's door. Once, only once. There were no footsteps coming to open it and Max figured the couple had probably passed out. Lucas had looked dead on his feet and while Bella wasn't sick, she had looked absolutely exhausted.
He moved away from the door and went back downstairs to go through their pantry, not feeling even a little bit guilty.
Okay, so i have been reading all the parts to this but i have finally been able to get onto my laptop to comment and i don't want to spam you so i'm putting everything here.
I am LOVING the friendship that is blooming between Leo and Max. I loved the throuple and I continue to love Max and Vin, but I do think that Max needs more than just Vin and Wendy if there is ever a chance of them working he needs an outside support system.
It's very important to know who you you aren't outside of your relationship. (in case you haven't noticed i am currently ignoring the possibility that they may not get back together)
I'm also cackling at the ability of max to still have so much disdain for lucas when luke is also on the brink. And don't get me started on Bell, BELL such a trooper, we all need a Bella in our lives.
Anyway, thank you for providing me with so much wonderful media to consume.
A/N: . . . yeah, I don't know exactly what was going on here either.
Two weeks. That was how long Avery gave himself to recover from getting shot, not counting the week he was unconscious. So actually three, total. A long time.
It would be fine; he was strong, he was young, he was motivated - all things his doctors told him were on his side. They warned him it would take time - used words like be patient, and don’t over do it, and expect setbacks - but he was motivated, remember? And strong. And young. Three weeks. Practically a month, really.
It would be fine.
“Are you sure you don’t want to get back in bed? Dude, you’re gray.” Rory huffed with impatience when Avery ignored him. “You’ve already done two laps; that’s enough for today.” He grabbed Avery’s arm.
“I’m not’ssst . . .ow!” Avery hissed in pain when it pulled on his stitches and he was forced to a halt. “I don’t remember, when did you get your medical degree?” He carefully shook off Rory’s grasp, not wanting to admit he was relieved for the break. “One more lap. Tomorrow I want to do it without the walker.” He glared down at the metal contraption the physical therapist insisted he keep close by. Because apparently he was a fall risk, not that he’d been allowed out of bed enough to test that out. Rory and Jack teased him about it, of course. Rory had brought bright neon tennis balls to put on the back legs and Jack contributed a hideous crocheted bag that he’d looped over the front of the frame. Avery had laughed heartily but he’d taken them off as soon as his friends had left. The walker himself was the next thing he planned to shed; this week if he had his way.
“Why are you such a stubborn fuck?” Rory didn’t try to touch him again but his hands hovered close as Avery grimaced and started his slow shuffle forward again. For someone used to being constantly on the move it was agonizingly slow going but he was determined to make one more loop of the hospital floor before he gave into the exhaustion and went back to his room. By now he was thoroughly sick of it - the sterile walls, the weird smell, the constant beeping of machines and middle of the night nursing checks. And his body still wasn’t working right, even though he was doing his best to ignore that.
“How’s . . . work . . . going?” he asked, trying to modulate his tone so he didn’t sound so out of breath. Pulling too much air into his damaged lungs hurt, but it was better than feeling like he was suffocating from lack of oxygen. “Sean . . . chill out?”
“Stop. Talking.” - Rory grabbed an empty wheelchair parked next to the nurses’ station - “or I’ll sit your ass down and push you back to bed, I mean it.” He stopped walking and waited, arms crossed.
“Fine,” Avery muttered. Who was a stubborn fuck now? He didn’t say it though because his chest was aching and he just wanted to finish this lap. He just had to focus: push the walker forward a couple of inches, pick up his foot on his weaker side, step, and then force his other foot to follow. Then do it again. And again.
“Whoa, careful,” - this time Rory grabbed the edge of the walker, and Avery couldn’t shake him off, - “you’re veering to the side, don’t tell me you’re okay.” It sounded like his voice was coming from the end of a long tunnel.
“I’m . . . dizzy fine,” Avery tried to say, but the words got lost in the tunnel too. Somewhere above him he heard an impatient huff and he was suddenly sitting, and moving quickly - so fast that the edges of his vision blurred. “Whaaa . . . Landis,” he groaned as soon as his sight cleared and he could recognize the walls of the hospital - not rushing past as fast as it had felt - “what the hell?”
“Yeah, don’t bother thanking me for saving you from falling on your ass.” Rory sounded not just angry but actually upset. He pushed the wheelchair into Avery’s room and right up to the bed. “Why didn’t you tell me you were about to pass out?”
“Because I wasn’t?” Avery climbed gingerly back into bed and tried not to show how good it felt to be lying down again. “I just got a little lightheaded; there’s no reason to go all Grey’s Anatomy on me.” He pressed his hand subtly against his side, unsure if was feeling nauseous or just sore. “I’m fine.”
“Your knees buckled; I wouldn’t call that fine.” Rory grabbed the blanket folded at the end of the bed and threw it roughly over Avery’s lap. “Luckily I was there to catch you this time.”
“This time? When else did I . . . Oh.” Avery sunk back into the pillows. They hadn’t had the conversation yet but he’d figured it was coming. Rory was too . . . Rory, not to be consumed by what had happened. It probably would have been better to talk to Noa about it first, get a sense of exactly where Rory’s head was, but oh well. And anyway, Avery had a pretty good idea where Rory’s head was.
“You’re thinking it’s your fault, but it’s not.” He had a sudden, weird moment of thinking I sound like Adam, because that was the kind of self-assured comment he’d make. Rory looked immediately annoyed, and of course he did, because Adam’s attitude was infuriating. He shook his head.
“If we’d gotten there earlier . . .” he began, but Avery wouldn’t let him finish.
“If you’d gotten there earlier then maybe you or Jack would have been the one shot, or both of you, and I’d be the one feeling guilty.” Rory didn’t look convinced and Avery stifled a frustrated groan. He was feeling more nauseous, but now that they were talking about it he didn’t want to interrupt by calling the nurse for meds. Rory’d probably insist on leaving if he knew Avery was feeling sick. So he blew out an airy, unrelieving burp and tried to glare, “hell, I shouldn’t have gotten out of my car, so we may as well blame me.” Under the blanket, his stomach pulsed uncomfortably and he carefully pushed his fingers against it, avoiding the stitches, but kept speaking, “or, I don’t know, maybe it’s on Sean, for assigning me to that location, or Mother Nature, because if it had been raining, no one would have been on the street.”
Rory wasn’t ready to give in. “We knew you’d been up all night; we should’ve tried to get there faster. Or . . . split up so I could come relieve you sooner.”
“And broken about a million rules and pissed off Sean; yeah right.” All the talking loosened an air bubble in Avery’s gut and when he leaned forward he was finally able to bring up a better belch. “S’cuse me,” he muttered. He looked around for a towel or something he could spit into, and finding nothing, just swallowed down the saliva that came up. His stomach grumbled in protest. Maybe all the walking hadn’t been such a great idea.
Rory, fortunately, seemed too caught up in berating himself to notice his partner’s upset stomach. “We could have done something differently,” he insisted stubbornly, “told you to wait for us, at least.”
Avery changed tactics, “you could have,” he agreed, “and maybe I wouldn’t have gotten shot. But tell me . . .” - he stopped and burped into his fist again - “tell me how that helps anything now.” He thumped the mattress next to him. “Our job is dangerous; we already knew that. Don’t make it worse by beating yourself up, pretending you could have prevented this.” He could tell his words had an impact; the fire in Rory’s eyes dimmed a little bit. He sagged in his chair.
“Noa said kind of the same thing,” he admitted finally, “and that ruminating about the ‘could haves and should haves’ is not productive for my healing. Or yours.” He gave Avery a sheepish smile, “she’s going to yell at me when I get home.”
“One of the many things I love about you is that it doesn’t even occur to you not to tell her.” Avery sat forward a little bit even though it sent a fresh spike of pain through his middle, “you two are perfect for each other, have I told you that?”
Rory’s next smile was more relaxed. “You may have mentioned that once or twice.” He stood up. “Actually, mind if I leave? I uhh, promised her I’d bring home dinner.”
“Go,” Avery waved him off, “eat something good for me since I can’t,” - he pointed sharply at Rory’s chest, “ - and do not feel bad about that, I can see it on your face.” Truly, he was relieved his friend was leaving, not that he’d ever admit it. Or the fact that thinking about food was completely unappealing right now.
“We’ll both come by tomorrow,” Rory promised, “and I think Logan too; Gabe’s on a deal and living at the office.”
“Sounds . . . sounds good.” Avery plastered a grin on his face. “And, thanks, man. I love you, you know that.”
Rory grinned back. “I love you too.”
Avery waited a full minute after Rory left to make sure he wasn’t coming back, and then grabbed the call button. “I need . . . ‘M nauseous . . .” was all he managed before he bent forward over his lap and retched. Fire exploded across his belly. He tried to hold back the next heave, scared of how much it would hurt, but the nausea was relentless. He retched again, this time bringing up some of the liquid nutrition he’d managed to swallow earlier. It splattered across his lap just as the door pushed open and Drew walked in.
Instantly there was a bowl under his chin. “Get the rest up,” he instructed briskly, “and then I’ll get your meds started. You’re an hour over; why didn’t you call?”
Avery gripped the side of the bed while he rode out another wave of queasy pain. “Rory . . .” he managed, but felt too sick to explain more. There was a bubble of pressure sitting in his chest that refused to move either up or down. The discomfort was unbearable. “Guhhh . . .” he gagged, desperate for relief, “need’t’puke.” Tears leaked out of his eye but he couldn’t loosen his grip on the bed rails to wipe them away.
“Relax your stomach muscles,” Drew instructed. His voice was incredibly calm, “and your jaw, if you can. Don’t worry if you spit up, I’ve got a towel on your lap.” He rested a hand on Avery’s back. “I’m going to pat and try to get the air up, okay?”
Avery gagged emptily. “‘Kay,” he managed, trying to follow Drew’s direction to unclench his muscles. A wave of revulsion washed over him. Drew thumped him on the mid back and then moved up to between his shoulder blades and the bubble of air moved too.
“HeurrRP!” he belched, and then threw up a mouthful of bile, tinged with blood. “F-fuck.” He groaned, spitting onto the towel underneath him and still feeling horribly sick. He didn’t think there was anything else to come up, though.
Drew busied himself at Avery’s IV. “Let me get the meds loaded and then I’ll get a fresh change of bedding,” he promised, “that better?”
The familiar warmth of pain meds spread across Avery’s middle and sunk into his limbs. “Yeah,” he sighed, finally relaxing into the mattress. The nausea began to recede too. “Thanks.”
“Your friends know you’re taking meds; next time don’t wait to ask,” Drew chided, “I know it may not feel like it, but you are improving. I heard you managed to get up and down four stairs in PT this morning.” He pulled a new sheet and blanket out of the cabinet and stripped the ones Avery had vomited on off the bed.
“Won’t lemme go home ‘til I can do a flight,” he mumbled sleepily, “my ‘partment’s on the seconnn floor.”
“I remember; I puked in your bathroom.” Drew tucked the new blanket around him and adjusted the flow of the IV.
“Yeah . . . ,” Avery agreed. His thoughts were getting floaty. “Adam did too. Puked in my’partment.” He wanted to say more but instead closed his eyes.
“Yes well, let’s hope Adam understands you need some peace.” Avery hummed in something that sounded like agreement, and the nurse gave a satisfied nod. Adam hadn’t been back to the hospital in the past few days and Drew hoped he’d gotten the message that Avery needed the least stressful environment possible to heal. And stress and Adam Calder seemed to go hand in hand.
“Peace,” Avery agreed, “home.”
“Home. Soon,” Drew promised.
It wasn’t as soon as Avery wanted though. Three weeks and three days after the shooting, after the deadline he’d given himself for recovering, he was still in the hospital. And yeah, he was finally going home today, but only on the condition that a home health nurse would check in once a day. At this point, Avery might have agreed to having the nurse move in, if it meant getting free of the hospital.
Rory was coming at noon to drive him to his apartment, which Noa had spent the day before cleaning and stocking with things like toilet paper and the few foods Avery was sometimes able to tolerate: clear broth, jello, applesauce. Not to mention a case of liquid nutrition from the hospital. Right now he still took most of that through the feeding tube in his stomach but at some point the doctors promised he’d be able to drink all of it by mouth. Oh joy.
Avery missed cheeseburgers. No, that wasn’t true; he missed wanting cheeseburgers. His little bitch of a digestive system still insisted on rejecting a lot of what he put in it, and what he did manage to keep down still made him bloated and nauseous. He didn’t even want to think about how much weight he’d lost.
The door pushed open and he straightened up and slapped a genial grin on his face. “You’re late, asshole,” he called out, “you were supposed to be here at . . . oh.”
“Surprise.” Adam stood awkwardly in the doorway as if waiting for an invitation to come in. He was wearing what Avery called his “fancy-assed gym outfit” and looked sweaty and rumpled and gorgeous, like he’d been in the middle of a workout or something. Well, fuck.
“Did you come from the gym?” It wasn’t what Avery had meant to say; he actually hadn’t meant to say anything. Because why had Adam decided to come visit him now, today of all days? He hadn’t been to the hospital in over a week, and never alone. Him being here now was was weird, is what it was. Weird, but also not entirely unwelcome, much as Avery didn't want to admit that. Adam hadn't been texting lately - radio silence was unlike him and Avery wasn's sure how to play this. Why couldn't he have come yesterday?
“Umm, thanks for coming to visit but this isn’t actually a great time.” He held up the plastic bag with his discharge paperwork and meds, “I’ve finally been sprung, just waiting for Rory to come pick me up.”
Adam grimaced. “Yeah, about that, Rory can’t come, something with work.” He rocked back and forth on his feet and looked around, eyes landing on a spot on the wall above the bed.
Avery frowned, “what about work?” He grabbed for his phone, Adam’s visit forgotten. He’d been doing his best to keep up with things at the FBI and didn’t remember any cases that might have pulled Rory away last minute. “Is there an emergency?”
Adam shrugged, surprisingly unconcerned. “He didn’t say, just that something came up, and could I pick you up instead.” - he spread his arms wide - “I said yes.”
It registered that Adam hadn’t actually come to visit him, still, that didn’t explain why he was here, “what about Noa?” he asked. She made more sense, except that Rory probably thought Avery was going to need someone strong enough to carry him up the fucking stairs. Which he didn’t, “Or . . . Gabe?”
Adam spoke very fast. “Gabe and Logan are on some fancy work retreat. Noa was supposed to come but she’s sick. So you get me.” He gave a non-committal bob of the head - “unless you’d rather stay until Rory’s free?”
“Hell no; take me home.” It might have been weird but Avery didn’t care, besides, he’d taken plenty of awkward car rides with Adam Calder before; what was one more? The sooner they left the sooner he’d be home. Preferably sitting on his sofa with something good on television and no interruptions.
Things got awkward way before they got to the car, though. Hospital protocol required patients to be transported to the exit in a wheelchair, but the orderlies were backed up at least an hour, maybe more.
“Fuck,” Avery growled in frustration at the nurse who’d come to deliver the news, “just let me walk; I’m fine.” Seriously, didn’t they know he’d already spent like a million hours in physical therapy just to prove he could walk upstairs to his apartment? “Let’s go.” He pushed himself up off the bed, overcompensated, and immediately stumbled, arms flailing like a windmill as he tried to find something to grab.
“Whoa, shit, watch out,” Adam grabbed his shoulders to prevent him from pitching forward but Avery’s head slammed into Adam’s chest anyway. This would have been the time for him to snark, maybe a joke that if Avery wanted him so badly, he just had to ask. But Adam was oddly humorless. “You okay?” He let go as soon as Avery was upright again and took a couple of steps back. “I’ll push him; my car’s with valet,” he told the nurse, who immediately scurried out to find a wheelchair.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Avery tried to decipher Adam’s silence and failed, “I could’ve walked though.”
A smile played around Adam’s mouth but there was no joy in it. “Yeah, because you did such a good job getting out of bed.” He threw up his hands - “just let me get you home in one piece, Morrison. Then you can walk all over your apartment if you want.”
He sounded frustrated, probably annoyed his workout had been interrupted for nursemaid duties. Avery was kind of surprised he hadn’t said so outright; Adam loved to talk about his exercise routine. He called it his protocol even though Avery always gave him shit for that. While he was still deciding if he should say something, the nurse came back, bringing the stupid wheelchair.
A hint of Adam’s old swagger returned. “I forget, who was in one of these last time? You or me?” He locked the wheels and made a grand gesture towards the seat, and Avery thought that if he said something like your chariot awaits he’d have to punch him.
“It was me,” Avery said shortly. He didn’t have a choice so he sat down, holding his plastic bag of meds on his lap and feeling like an idiot while Adam pushed him out of the room. He didn’t quite believe he was actually leaving for good, or that he’d be sleeping in his own bed tonight; he half expected to see one of his doctors walk up and tell him they’d made a mistake and he actually needed to stay. Just the thought, even if untrue, caused unfamiliar anxiety to bloom in his chest. He leaned forward, unconsciously urging Adam to move faster. Of course, he slowed down.
“Are you trying to fall out? Sit the fuck back, Morrison, or I’ll tie you to the chair.”
“I bet you’d like that,” Avery snarked back without thinking. The wheelchair stuttered to a stop for a moment, and then began moving again, but Adam didn’t say anything else. Fuck. They rolled in silence the rest of the way down the hall except to acknowledge the nurses who called out goodbye or good luck.
“Where’s Drew?” he asked as they approached the elevators. Jeremiah had been by that morning before surgery, promising to visit on his day off next week. But his boyfriend had been absent, even though he’d come to visit nearly every day Avery was in the hospital. If he thought asking an easy question would get Adam talking again, he was mistaken.
“Eh, probably busy.” Adam jammed his finger into the button to close the elevator doors. “I’m sure Miah will catch him up.” Before he could ask what that meant the elevator dropped with a swoop and Avery’s stomach dropped with it. He’d gone almost three hours today without nausea, so it was annoying to feel sick again. He decided to ignore it.
“Or I can . . . eurrph! . . “ the elevator jerked to a stop and pushed up a bubble of air. He turned his head to burp just before the doors opened and then tried to sit up and look less unwell as Adam pushed him through the lobby. He burped again while they were waiting for the valet to bring the car and Adam dropped an emesis bag into his lap.
Avery had to crane his neck to glare up at him. “I’m fine,” he said petulantly, shoving the bag into the closest part of Adam’s body he could reach, which happened to be his hip, ”I don’t need it.”
“You look queasy and I don’t want you puking in my car.” The valet pulled up and before Adam could push him outside, Avery braced himself on the armrests of the wheelchair and lurched to his feet, ignoring the way it made his stomach roll.
“Fuck you, Calder.” There, that felt better; he told Adam fuck off all the time. Except he forgot he had his bag of meds in his lap. It fell on the ground and he wasn’t so stupid to think he could lean down and pick it up. So he had to wait for Adam to do it and his triumphant walk to the car was more like a shuffle.
It was maybe twenty feet, and Avery managed to make it without stumbling, which felt like a win. Getting into Adam’s Audi SUV required a step up, and he deliberately ignored his outstretched hand, hauling himself into the familiar passenger seat.
“Show off,” Adam muttered. Avery rolled his eyes.
“For getting into the car by myself? Give me a little more credit than that please.” He pulled at the seatbelt, which felt uncomfortable and tight across his middle.
“Earn it and I will.” Adam’s mouth was tight. He pulled out of the hospital parking lot a little too fast and Avery slid into the side of the door.
“Watch it,” he warned, shuddering through a wave of unease, “you don’t want me to puke.” It occurred to him that he hadn’t ridden in a car in over three weeks; was that enough time to forget what it felt like? The scenery was rushing by more quickly than felt natural, but a glance at the dashboard confirmed they were driving within the speed limit. Shutting his eyes increased the disorientation so he kept them open, swallowing hard.
“I thought you said you were fine,” - without looking over, Adam tossed the emesis bag at him again - “are you saying I’m a bad driver, sweetheart?” There was an undercurrent of something in his tone that Avery thought he should recognize. He chanced a quick glance, peeling his head off the back of the seat to try to figure out what Adam was thinking.
He was still looking straight ahead, a vein twitching in his jaw. When he felt Avery’s gaze on him his mouth relaxed, parting into a familiar smirk. “You’ve never complained about my speed before.”
Avery forced up a burp so he could retort without sounding like he was about to gag, “but we’re not on the same road right now, are we? Sweetheart.” Now he understood what they were doing - this was how they’d talked to each other when they first met - more barbed than flirtatious, each jockeying for position. Avery could barely remember back to those days, but the pattern of their banter came back easily enough. If Adam wanted to play that game, then fine, Avery could too. Even if it was a kind of jerky thing for Adam to do to a guy barely out of the hospital and on all kinds of pain meds.
Adam’s brow furrowed for the briefest second and then smoothed out. “We’re in the same car, so that means we’re on the same road,” he said easily, taking the turn onto Avery’s street, “unless you were talking about something besides traffic, of course.” He shrugged, seeming completely unconcerned with the direction the conversation was going.
“Just fucking park,” Avery growled, or would have growled if he hadn’t been so fucking nauseous. The puke bag was still sitting in his lap and picked it up and spit into it, and then hovered for a second while his stomach decided what it wanted to do.
“I knew you were gonna puke,” Adam said with satisfaction, and that more than anything made Avery gulp down the liquid that was trying to crawl up his throat. He breathed heavily for a few seconds and then finally straightened up so he could give Adam a triumphant grin.
“Nope; all good.” Undoing his seatbelt helped more and by the time he’d climbed down from the SUV, his queasiness was back to its regular, minorly annoying level.
“Let me guess, you can get upstairs by yourself too.” Adam sounded annoyed again. He rubbed idly at his stomach and handed Avery his housekeys before stifling a small burp into his collar.
“Maybe I should give this to you,” Avery held out the crumpled emesis bag. “Did you actually make yourself carsick with your own driving?”
“Fuck you.” Adam ignored the bag and burped again, deeper this time, “it’s just my pre-workout; it’s not sitting well,” he gave Avery a pointed look, “normally I would have sweated it all out by now but my protocol got interrupted.”
Avery refused to feel guilty. “So go back to the gym and finish your protocol. You did your duty and got me home,” - he waved Adam away with the back of his hand - “I’ve got it from here.”
“Even if I believed that, which I don’t, Rory and Jeremiah’d kill me.” Adam held up Avery’s duffle and the plastic bag of meds and medical supplies. “Besides, someone’s got to carry all your crap.”
“Don’t do me any favors, Calder.” Avery considered the staircase in front of him, had it always been so steep? The little wooden steps he’d practiced on at the hospital felt like doll furniture in comparison. Whatever; he could do this.
There were seventeen steps up to the second floor landing where his apartment was, and Avery’s lungs were burning by the time he was halfway. The nausea was back too, with a vengeance, but he didn’t have the breath to ask for the emesis bag. Spitting up on the stairs it was, then. He turned his head mid-heave, and the floor under him flipped sideways. Strong hands grasped his hips.
“Fuck, Morrison, can’t you give me some warning at least once?” Adam wrapped his arms around him from behind. “Sit your ass down; you’re swaying.”
Avery finished burping up a mixture of bile and spit and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Gimme a second,” he panted, trying to catch his breath, “jus’ a little dizzy.” He’d lied about it to Rory last week but Adam clearly wouldn’t buy an act. Besides, he’d be lying if said it didn’t feel good to have the guy’s arms around him for a minute. Fucking hellish as that was to admit. “I . . . I can walk the rest.”
“Well thank god, because I’m not about to carry you.” Still Adam kept his hands on Avery the rest of the way up the stairs, and Avery wasn’t so stupid as to refuse the help. He let go the moment they made it to the landing, and stepped back to let Avery fumble with his keys and push open the door.
“Whoa . . . “ - Avery was momentarily speechless, staring at what Noa had done, “- god I love your sister.” She had done a lot more than clean - there were fresh flowers on the coffee table, a new, cozy-looking blanket folded on the sofa next to a pile of pillows, a counter full of his favorite snacks, and a big sign on the wall that said Welcome Home Avery in big, colorful letters. Even the damned walker tucked in the corner couldn’t dim his delight at being home. “She really outdid herself.”
“She always does,” Adam agreed, “but can you please sit down? You’re making me nervous, standing like that.” He started clearing a place on the sofa, moving the blanket and pillows to one side and pushing the coffee table out of the way. His energy seemed nervous too, Avery thought, watching Adam putter around the space that functioned as his living room. He arranged and then rearranged the pillows and even bent down to straighten out a corner of the crappy area rug Avery had gotten at Goodwill and kept meaning to throw out.
Avery was still giddy about being out of the hospital. “Adam Calder, nervous around a guy? That’s a new one,” he teased. He waved at the food on the counter. “Can I offer you cheese and crackers, sweetheart? Maybe a glass of wine? I’m not quite in shape for anything myself, but we could put on some porn.” It was obviously a joke; even at the height of their hooking up he and Adam had never watched porn together. But Adam didn’t take the bait.
“Can you blame me for not wanting to see you get a concussion?” he asked, stepping back and gesturing at the sofa. “You’re still looking kind of green.” He wrapped his arms around his waist and waited, impatience oozing out of every pore.
“Yeah, well, so are you,” Avery huffed. Seriously, Adam looked downright queasy, standing there. He wasn’t wrong though, and Avery lowered himself down carefully, unable to hide a groan of relief when he wasn’t standing anymore. “Maybe you should skip the pre-workout, if it makes you sick.”
Adam didn’t seem to have heard him. He was looking around the room, seemingly checking out his sister’s handiwork, and when he finally spoke, it was if he’d already had half the conversation in his head. “You’re not, you know.”
Avery had no idea what he was talking about. “Not what?” There were a lot of things he was not at the moment - not feeling great for sure, but not dead either - that was a really good thing. And also not understanding the expression on Adam’s face. Maybe he really was nervous, which was totally weird. If there was one thing Avery knew about Adam Calder, it was that he was pretty much always confident. Right now his hesitance was almost . . . endearing. Avery flushed, and then again when he realized Adam would absolutely clock his discomfort. He braced himself to be called out.
But Adam barely seemed to be looking at him. He bit his lip, and for a second Avery thought he’d totally misread the situation, and that Adam wasn’t nervous, but trying not to puke after all.
“Not just any guy,” he said instead, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else but here in Avery’s apartment. He rocked back and forth on his feet, “you know that, right?”
Avery was still confused; didn’t Adam know he was on about a million painkillers right now? He rubbed his hands over his face. The adrenaline from being home was fading and he wanted to take a nap. “Calder, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He didn’t actually say the can it wait out loud, but didn’t try to hide the meaning in his tone. Or maybe they could just text later. “If this is about the cannoli . . .” he began, thinking back to the flood of messages Adam had been sending him before he’d been shot.
Adam ignored him, blowing out a shaky breath. When he spoke, it sounded like he was trying to swallow his words. “Maybe we should try again.” He finally looked up and met Avery’s gaze. “You and me; this,” he explained, gesturing inelegantly at the space between them,” you know?”
Avery heard the words, knew it was a question, but was Adam actually proposing . . . “you want to start hooking up again?” It seemed like a ridiculous thing to ask, especially right now. Adam would absolutely know better than to suggest it at all, let alone the day Avery got home from the hospital. “You know I don’t . . ."
Adam interrupted him, vigorously shaking his head, “No! That’s not what I . . . fuck; I wasn’t planning to . . . fuck.” He began pacing back and forth across the small space in front of the sofa. “I just thought . . . you didn’t like that I didn’t want to tell anyone, right? And that I said we’d start hooking up with other people, at some point.” Adam dropped down to sit on the coffee table, his expression disarmingly open, “what if we didn’t do those things? Like, we wouldn’t keep it such a secret from our friends, and we could . . . hang out and whatever, as long as we wanted. No ‘expiration date’ as you put it.” Adam leaned forward as if he was going to rest his hands on Avery’s knees, but at the last second pulled back. “You’ve told me those things were a problem, so what if they weren’t?”
While Avery stared at him, a whisper of Adam’s familiar confidence returned, buoyed, no doubt, by the fact that Avery hadn’t immediately shot him down. Which he couldn’t have, because he still didn’t completely understand what the fuck was going on. And yet Adam kept talking, “I mean, you have to admit, Morrison, we’re good together. And I don’t only mean in bed.” He held out his arms, seemingly signalling all the things he and Avery were good at together. “Right? We’re good?”
“Right,” Avery stuttered back, almost involuntarily. He was nauseous and in pain and he was having an out of body experience, so he couldn’t be responsible for anything he said. But Adam looked satisfied and that felt like a problem, and one that couldn’t wait for a text to explain.
“Actually . . . “ - he slowly shook his head, “- I don’t know what I . . . no, I don’t know what you mean.” He dipped his head to muffle a burp into his collar and then looked up to find Adam watching him. “Are you saying you want to be friends with benefits again, but this time we tell people? Is that it?” That didn’t seem much better than what they’d been doing before; surely Adam knew that, though.
Adam slowly shook his head. “Not exactly,” he agreed, clearly reading the skepticism on Avery’s face. He leaned forward again, and this time did make contact, resting one hand on Avery’s knee. “What if . . . and hear me out here . . . but what if we decide to be . . . more?”
Avery’s brain was too sluggish to keep up. He slowly shook his head that he still didn’t understand, but Adam misinterpreted. “Don’t answer right now,” he said quickly, squeezing Avery’s knee, “I didn’t explain all the . . . I mean, it’s not what it . . . god-fucking-damn.” He buried his face in his hands for a second, fingers digging into his temple, “when you got hurt, I realized . . ." - he suddenly pulled his face up and grabbed Avery’s knee again, “ - but that’s not why, I swear, no matter what Drew says.”
“Drew?” Avery looked around, half expecting the nurse to have appeared, “Adam, I don’t . . .”
“. . . I like you, okay?” Adam blurted out, and Avery froze. What the fuck?
“What?” This had to be the drugs, making him hallucinate. He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Calder, if this is some kind of joke . . .”
“It’s not, I swear it’s not,” the earnestness was back in Adam’s expression, “c’mon, Morrison, you know me better than that.”
“Do I?” Avery muttered. It was true that he’d grown to understand a lot more about Adam Calder over the past year, but the guy admitting he - what - had feelings? That was not something he knew what to do with. And he hadn’t actually said he had feelings for Avery anyway - not in those words. “So you . . . like me?” he asked slowly, “Adam, I don’t think I can . . .” - an enormous yawn split his face, - “sorry - I . . .”
Adam jumped up, “No - don’t answer now, you don’t have to . . . this was stupid, I know.” He looked wildly around the apartment, “you need to sleep, right? And . . . meds?” - he picked up the plastic hospital bag and waved it in Avery’s direction - “are you still nauseous?”
“Yeah,” Avery wasn’t sure which question he was answering at this point. He leaned back into the sofa and closed his eyes, “I’m s-s-sorry . . . can I . . . later?” He opened them again. Adam was still there, staring. “Later,” he mumbled.
TBC
A/N: We're going to see the second part of this again from Adam's POV in the next fic.
Andy! If you are so inspired I’d love a drabble with a sick Mila out with Remy and Leah - maybe she ate something that isn’t agreeing with her - and Leah has a lot of questions and wants to “help.” It’s both sweet and annoying and Remy is trying to manage Leah and also help Mila at the same time. Miss you!
I almost flipped it so Remy was sick, but I decided that I don't mess with Mila enough. Lee definitely ended up more panicked and worried, than confused and "helpful" but it still comes off as sweet and a little annoying imo lol. I hope you enjoy nonetheless :) Thank you for the request!
It was Leah’s pick. She was big and brave and got her vaccines like a champ and as promised she got to pick where they went to dinner.
She picked a diner that she had gone to with Remy’s parents. A retro place with checkerboard floors and chrome finishes, and milkshakes, the most important part to Leah.
Mila hadn’t really been feeling great most of the day, but she wasn’t about to disappoint Leah with postponing their plans. Lee held up her end of the deal so Mila would hold up hers.
Halfway through dinner though she was regretting her decision. Eating what little she did of her meal added nausea to the preexisting symptoms of feeling slightly feverish and generally unwell.
Remy noticed how quiet Mila got and that she wasn’t really eating her dinner. But she was still smiling and nodding at Leah’s ramblings about her school day.
Remy leaned forward and squeezed Mila’s knee under the table, “You okay?” he asked quietly while Leah was distracted.
Mila shrugged and cleared her throat, “I’m not really feeling great, but I’m okay.”
He didn’t push any further, which Mila was grateful for but she knew Remy didn’t buy it.
The waitress came and cleared their plates. Not giving any reaction when Mila told her she doesn’t need a box for her barely touched salad.
Mila shifted uncomfortably in the booth, her stomach was rolling and she was beyond nauseous.
She rubbed at her chest and dislodged a breathy burp, grimacing when acid licked at the back of her throat.
Remy eyed her from across the table, noticing how pale she suddenly got.
“Ready to go Bug?” Remy asked, clearly trying to leave.
“What about milkshakes?” She whined.
“Baby, you know I can’t have a milkshake.”
“But Mila and I can.” She gave Remy the eyes that always make him cave, but when he looked over at Mila, she looked almost green with the mention of the creamy dessert.
“Lee, I think Mila’s not feeling very well. Maybe we can come back and get milkshakes on a different day.”
That got Leah’s attention, turning to get a better look at Mila.
“Do you need water? Water always helps me feel better.”
“No, Bug. I think I just need to go home and lay down.” Mila gave her what was meant to be a comforting smile but it turned into another grimace as a burp worked its way up from her chest. She groaned and placed her hand on her stomach. “Is it okay if we take a rain check on this one?”
Leah frowned but conceded, as long as she also got a piece of cake with her milkshake.
Both Mila and Remy agreed, just to get out of the restaurant.
“Stomach?” Remy asked, his hand on her lower back as the other one held Leah’s, the little girl skipping along his other side.
Mila swallowed and nodded.
Mila got into the car while Remy strapped in Leah, letting her head fall against the seat.
She heard Remy close the door and then get into the driver’s side.
“Are you doing okay?” Remy asked quietly, trying not to alarm Lee.
“I’m not doing great.” Mila sighed and looked out the window. “I think I might have caught a bug.”
Remy nodded, then leaned over and opened the glove compartment, handing Mila a plastic shopping bag.
“Just in case, okay?”
Mila took the bag in defeat and tucked it under her leg before crossing her arms over her chest and going back to looking out the window.
“Mila?” Leah called softly from the back seat.
Mila swallowed and put on a brave face before she turned to look at Leah over her shoulder.
“Yeah, Bug?”
“Do you want Bunny? She always makes me feel better.” The toddler held up her stuffed pink bunny that was ragged from years of her dragging it around.
“Actually, I will take Bunny, thank you Bug.” Mila took the stuffed animal from her and sat it on her lap before turning back around, her hand absently petting the plush material.
The drive home was about 45 minutes, but it felt like 4 hours from Mila’s perspective, her stomach revolting against her with every minor bump. She attempted to close her eyes and nap through most of the drive, but she wasn’t able to actually fall asleep.
With only about 15 minutes left she opened her eyes and straightened in the seat. She was uncomfortably warm and her mouth was flooded with saliva. She knew exactly what was happening.
“M?” Remy said, reaching over to rub her thigh.
Mila pulled out the bag from where it was tucked under her leg and held it open, leaning over it.
“Aw, baby. I’m sorry.”
Remy moved his hand to rub her back, staring ahead at the road.
She spit into the bag and burped softly, triggering a gag.
“Mila?” Leah called from the backseat, worry and alarm in her small voice. “Daddy? Is Mila okay?”
“Yeah, Lee. Mila’s okay, she’s just not feeling very good.” Remy called back.
The car hit a pothole and Mila gagged again, a burp rumbling up from her chest that also brought with it a mouthful of barely digested salad. The bag crinkled and she felt the weight and warmth of it resting in her lap causing her to retch.
“Daddy!?” Leah called again, this time her voice was panicked and teary. This was quickly followed up by a dry heave.
Mila coughed and spit into the bag, holding it closed as she straightened.
“Bug, I’m okay.” Mila cleared her throat. “I’m okay, baby. Just take a breath. Daddy will roll down your window.”
She reopened the bag and gagged again, coughing as a chunkier wave came up and caught in her throat. She felt done for now, clearing her throat and spitting one more time before tying the bag closed and putting it by her feet.
She wiped at her eyes and swallowed hard. Turning in her seat to look at Leah as the toddler gagged unproductively. Seemingly triggered by panic and also disgust.
“Hey, baby. Calm down. I’m okay, I’m sorry I scared you.” Mila reached back and squeezed her ankle reassuringly.
Fresh air was filling the car and Leah was starting to relax now that Mila was no longer sick and the car didn’t smell like stale vomit.
“Here, why don’t you take your bunny back.”
Leah took the stuffed animal and hugged it to her chest, sniffling as she stared out the window.
When they pulled up at the house Remy came around and opened Mila’s door.
“How are you doing?”
“I’m okay. Tired, still a little nauseous.” Mila replied, climbing out of the car.
“Do you think you can take Lee inside while I take care of everything in the car?”
“I can handle that. Thank you.”
“No problem, love.” Remy pulled her to him and rubbed her back while he dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll take over when I get inside and you can go lay down.”
“Sounds heavenly right now.”
Remy opened the back door and let Lee out of the car.
“Go inside with M, I’ll be right in.”
Leah took off toward the door without looking behind her, seemingly forgetting about the ordeal on the way home
Mila scoffed and rolled her eyes, following her inside.
Andy! If you are so inspired I’d love a drabble with a sick Mila out with Remy and Leah - maybe she ate something that isn’t agreeing with her - and Leah has a lot of questions and wants to “help.” It’s both sweet and annoying and Remy is trying to manage Leah and also help Mila at the same time. Miss you!
I almost flipped it so Remy was sick, but I decided that I don't mess with Mila enough. Lee definitely ended up more panicked and worried, than confused and "helpful" but it still comes off as sweet and a little annoying imo lol. I hope you enjoy nonetheless :) Thank you for the request!
It was Leah’s pick. She was big and brave and got her vaccines like a champ and as promised she got to pick where they went to dinner.
She picked a diner that she had gone to with Remy’s parents. A retro place with checkerboard floors and chrome finishes, and milkshakes, the most important part to Leah.
Mila hadn’t really been feeling great most of the day, but she wasn’t about to disappoint Leah with postponing their plans. Lee held up her end of the deal so Mila would hold up hers.
Halfway through dinner though she was regretting her decision. Eating what little she did of her meal added nausea to the preexisting symptoms of feeling slightly feverish and generally unwell.
Remy noticed how quiet Mila got and that she wasn’t really eating her dinner. But she was still smiling and nodding at Leah’s ramblings about her school day.
Remy leaned forward and squeezed Mila’s knee under the table, “You okay?” he asked quietly while Leah was distracted.
Mila shrugged and cleared her throat, “I’m not really feeling great, but I’m okay.”
He didn’t push any further, which Mila was grateful for but she knew Remy didn’t buy it.
The waitress came and cleared their plates. Not giving any reaction when Mila told her she doesn’t need a box for her barely touched salad.
Mila shifted uncomfortably in the booth, her stomach was rolling and she was beyond nauseous.
She rubbed at her chest and dislodged a breathy burp, grimacing when acid licked at the back of her throat.
Remy eyed her from across the table, noticing how pale she suddenly got.
“Ready to go Bug?” Remy asked, clearly trying to leave.
“What about milkshakes?” She whined.
“Baby, you know I can’t have a milkshake.”
“But Mila and I can.” She gave Remy the eyes that always make him cave, but when he looked over at Mila, she looked almost green with the mention of the creamy dessert.
“Lee, I think Mila’s not feeling very well. Maybe we can come back and get milkshakes on a different day.”
That got Leah’s attention, turning to get a better look at Mila.
“Do you need water? Water always helps me feel better.”
“No, Bug. I think I just need to go home and lay down.” Mila gave her what was meant to be a comforting smile but it turned into another grimace as a burp worked its way up from her chest. She groaned and placed her hand on her stomach. “Is it okay if we take a rain check on this one?”
Leah frowned but conceded, as long as she also got a piece of cake with her milkshake.
Both Mila and Remy agreed, just to get out of the restaurant.
“Stomach?” Remy asked, his hand on her lower back as the other one held Leah’s, the little girl skipping along his other side.
Mila swallowed and nodded.
Mila got into the car while Remy strapped in Leah, letting her head fall against the seat.
She heard Remy close the door and then get into the driver’s side.
“Are you doing okay?” Remy asked quietly, trying not to alarm Lee.
“I’m not doing great.” Mila sighed and looked out the window. “I think I might have caught a bug.”
Remy nodded, then leaned over and opened the glove compartment, handing Mila a plastic shopping bag.
“Just in case, okay?”
Mila took the bag in defeat and tucked it under her leg before crossing her arms over her chest and going back to looking out the window.
“Mila?” Leah called softly from the back seat.
Mila swallowed and put on a brave face before she turned to look at Leah over her shoulder.
“Yeah, Bug?”
“Do you want Bunny? She always makes me feel better.” The toddler held up her stuffed pink bunny that was ragged from years of her dragging it around.
“Actually, I will take Bunny, thank you Bug.” Mila took the stuffed animal from her and sat it on her lap before turning back around, her hand absently petting the plush material.
The drive home was about 45 minutes, but it felt like 4 hours from Mila’s perspective, her stomach revolting against her with every minor bump. She attempted to close her eyes and nap through most of the drive, but she wasn’t able to actually fall asleep.
With only about 15 minutes left she opened her eyes and straightened in the seat. She was uncomfortably warm and her mouth was flooded with saliva. She knew exactly what was happening.
“M?” Remy said, reaching over to rub her thigh.
Mila pulled out the bag from where it was tucked under her leg and held it open, leaning over it.
“Aw, baby. I’m sorry.”
Remy moved his hand to rub her back, staring ahead at the road.
She spit into the bag and burped softly, triggering a gag.
“Mila?” Leah called from the backseat, worry and alarm in her small voice. “Daddy? Is Mila okay?”
“Yeah, Lee. Mila’s okay, she’s just not feeling very good.” Remy called back.
The car hit a pothole and Mila gagged again, a burp rumbling up from her chest that also brought with it a mouthful of barely digested salad. The bag crinkled and she felt the weight and warmth of it resting in her lap causing her to retch.
“Daddy!?” Leah called again, this time her voice was panicked and teary. This was quickly followed up by a dry heave.
Mila coughed and spit into the bag, holding it closed as she straightened.
“Bug, I’m okay.” Mila cleared her throat. “I’m okay, baby. Just take a breath. Daddy will roll down your window.”
She reopened the bag and gagged again, coughing as a chunkier wave came up and caught in her throat. She felt done for now, clearing her throat and spitting one more time before tying the bag closed and putting it by her feet.
She wiped at her eyes and swallowed hard. Turning in her seat to look at Leah as the toddler gagged unproductively. Seemingly triggered by panic and also disgust.
“Hey, baby. Calm down. I’m okay, I’m sorry I scared you.” Mila reached back and squeezed her ankle reassuringly.
Fresh air was filling the car and Leah was starting to relax now that Mila was no longer sick and the car didn’t smell like stale vomit.
“Here, why don’t you take your bunny back.”
Leah took the stuffed animal and hugged it to her chest, sniffling as she stared out the window.
When they pulled up at the house Remy came around and opened Mila’s door.
“How are you doing?”
“I’m okay. Tired, still a little nauseous.” Mila replied, climbing out of the car.
“Do you think you can take Lee inside while I take care of everything in the car?”
“I can handle that. Thank you.”
“No problem, love.” Remy pulled her to him and rubbed her back while he dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll take over when I get inside and you can go lay down.”
“Sounds heavenly right now.”
Remy opened the back door and let Lee out of the car.
“Go inside with M, I’ll be right in.”
Leah took off toward the door without looking behind her, seemingly forgetting about the ordeal on the way home
Mila scoffed and rolled her eyes, following her inside.
Andy! If you are so inspired I’d love a drabble with a sick Mila out with Remy and Leah - maybe she ate something that isn’t agreeing with her - and Leah has a lot of questions and wants to “help.” It’s both sweet and annoying and Remy is trying to manage Leah and also help Mila at the same time. Miss you!
I almost flipped it so Remy was sick, but I decided that I don't mess with Mila enough. Lee definitely ended up more panicked and worried, than confused and "helpful" but it still comes off as sweet and a little annoying imo lol. I hope you enjoy nonetheless :) Thank you for the request!
It was Leah’s pick. She was big and brave and got her vaccines like a champ and as promised she got to pick where they went to dinner.
She picked a diner that she had gone to with Remy’s parents. A retro place with checkerboard floors and chrome finishes, and milkshakes, the most important part to Leah.
Mila hadn’t really been feeling great most of the day, but she wasn’t about to disappoint Leah with postponing their plans. Lee held up her end of the deal so Mila would hold up hers.
Halfway through dinner though she was regretting her decision. Eating what little she did of her meal added nausea to the preexisting symptoms of feeling slightly feverish and generally unwell.
Remy noticed how quiet Mila got and that she wasn’t really eating her dinner. But she was still smiling and nodding at Leah’s ramblings about her school day.
Remy leaned forward and squeezed Mila’s knee under the table, “You okay?” he asked quietly while Leah was distracted.
Mila shrugged and cleared her throat, “I’m not really feeling great, but I’m okay.”
He didn’t push any further, which Mila was grateful for but she knew Remy didn’t buy it.
The waitress came and cleared their plates. Not giving any reaction when Mila told her she doesn’t need a box for her barely touched salad.
Mila shifted uncomfortably in the booth, her stomach was rolling and she was beyond nauseous.
She rubbed at her chest and dislodged a breathy burp, grimacing when acid licked at the back of her throat.
Remy eyed her from across the table, noticing how pale she suddenly got.
“Ready to go Bug?” Remy asked, clearly trying to leave.
“What about milkshakes?” She whined.
“Baby, you know I can’t have a milkshake.”
“But Mila and I can.” She gave Remy the eyes that always make him cave, but when he looked over at Mila, she looked almost green with the mention of the creamy dessert.
“Lee, I think Mila’s not feeling very well. Maybe we can come back and get milkshakes on a different day.”
That got Leah’s attention, turning to get a better look at Mila.
“Do you need water? Water always helps me feel better.”
“No, Bug. I think I just need to go home and lay down.” Mila gave her what was meant to be a comforting smile but it turned into another grimace as a burp worked its way up from her chest. She groaned and placed her hand on her stomach. “Is it okay if we take a rain check on this one?”
Leah frowned but conceded, as long as she also got a piece of cake with her milkshake.
Both Mila and Remy agreed, just to get out of the restaurant.
“Stomach?” Remy asked, his hand on her lower back as the other one held Leah’s, the little girl skipping along his other side.
Mila swallowed and nodded.
Mila got into the car while Remy strapped in Leah, letting her head fall against the seat.
She heard Remy close the door and then get into the driver’s side.
“Are you doing okay?” Remy asked quietly, trying not to alarm Lee.
“I’m not doing great.” Mila sighed and looked out the window. “I think I might have caught a bug.”
Remy nodded, then leaned over and opened the glove compartment, handing Mila a plastic shopping bag.
“Just in case, okay?”
Mila took the bag in defeat and tucked it under her leg before crossing her arms over her chest and going back to looking out the window.
“Mila?” Leah called softly from the back seat.
Mila swallowed and put on a brave face before she turned to look at Leah over her shoulder.
“Yeah, Bug?”
“Do you want Bunny? She always makes me feel better.” The toddler held up her stuffed pink bunny that was ragged from years of her dragging it around.
“Actually, I will take Bunny, thank you Bug.” Mila took the stuffed animal from her and sat it on her lap before turning back around, her hand absently petting the plush material.
The drive home was about 45 minutes, but it felt like 4 hours from Mila’s perspective, her stomach revolting against her with every minor bump. She attempted to close her eyes and nap through most of the drive, but she wasn’t able to actually fall asleep.
With only about 15 minutes left she opened her eyes and straightened in the seat. She was uncomfortably warm and her mouth was flooded with saliva. She knew exactly what was happening.
“M?” Remy said, reaching over to rub her thigh.
Mila pulled out the bag from where it was tucked under her leg and held it open, leaning over it.
“Aw, baby. I’m sorry.”
Remy moved his hand to rub her back, staring ahead at the road.
She spit into the bag and burped softly, triggering a gag.
“Mila?” Leah called from the backseat, worry and alarm in her small voice. “Daddy? Is Mila okay?”
“Yeah, Lee. Mila’s okay, she’s just not feeling very good.” Remy called back.
The car hit a pothole and Mila gagged again, a burp rumbling up from her chest that also brought with it a mouthful of barely digested salad. The bag crinkled and she felt the weight and warmth of it resting in her lap causing her to retch.
“Daddy!?” Leah called again, this time her voice was panicked and teary. This was quickly followed up by a dry heave.
Mila coughed and spit into the bag, holding it closed as she straightened.
“Bug, I’m okay.” Mila cleared her throat. “I’m okay, baby. Just take a breath. Daddy will roll down your window.”
She reopened the bag and gagged again, coughing as a chunkier wave came up and caught in her throat. She felt done for now, clearing her throat and spitting one more time before tying the bag closed and putting it by her feet.
She wiped at her eyes and swallowed hard. Turning in her seat to look at Leah as the toddler gagged unproductively. Seemingly triggered by panic and also disgust.
“Hey, baby. Calm down. I’m okay, I’m sorry I scared you.” Mila reached back and squeezed her ankle reassuringly.
Fresh air was filling the car and Leah was starting to relax now that Mila was no longer sick and the car didn’t smell like stale vomit.
“Here, why don’t you take your bunny back.”
Leah took the stuffed animal and hugged it to her chest, sniffling as she stared out the window.
When they pulled up at the house Remy came around and opened Mila’s door.
“How are you doing?”
“I’m okay. Tired, still a little nauseous.” Mila replied, climbing out of the car.
“Do you think you can take Lee inside while I take care of everything in the car?”
“I can handle that. Thank you.”
“No problem, love.” Remy pulled her to him and rubbed her back while he dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll take over when I get inside and you can go lay down.”
“Sounds heavenly right now.”
Remy opened the back door and let Lee out of the car.
“Go inside with M, I’ll be right in.”
Leah took off toward the door without looking behind her, seemingly forgetting about the ordeal on the way home
Mila scoffed and rolled her eyes, following her inside.
Thank you, as always, to @writing-whump and @bellysoupset for their thoughts, and @its-a-goddamn-heartbreak and @sickly-qtfor general enthusiasm for this storyline. Thinking I may write some more pure emeto minifics in between the plot - get back to my roots, so to speak. I've got an idea for very sick Drew, and Soup has requested sick Gabe, so taking prompts for them or anyone else.
Losing an entire week of your life was weird. Avery remembered getting out of his car during the stakeout, walking across the street, a moment of shocking pain. And then he was flat on his back and someone was shining a too-bright light in his face and he had no idea what happened.
He tried to say something but his throat was paralyzed and he choked instead. When he tried to push the light away pain erupted all along his side. He grunted, the only sound he could make, and a weight fell onto his shoulder. A hand squeezed.
“You’re still intubated; don’t try to speak yet.” The light finally disappeared and Avery’s eyes focused enough to see an unfamiliar face hovering over him, blurry at the edges.
“We’re going to raise you to partial sitting; it may be disorienting.” Another figure joined the first. Avery blinked because that was all he could do.
The voice wasn’t lying; his head began to rise and the world tilted and spun. There was nothing holding him up and he felt like he was falling but he still couldn’t move. And then the weight was back, hands pushing on his shoulders to keep him from pitching forward. Nausea swirled in his belly.
“When I count to three I want you to cough, okay Avery?” Hands floated in front of his vision. “A big one if you can, one, two . . .”
Avery wanted to say that wouldn’t be a problem but he was too busy gagging before the voice even got to three. And then there was a scraping in his throat and the bottom dropped out of his stomach and he threw up all over his lap.
“Herugh,” he gagged again, and then finally managed to suck in a breath. The spike of nausea eased and the world clicked into place - enough for him to understand he wasn’t out on the street anymore. “Wh-wh-what happened?” he gasped.
Even after Rory and Jack told him, he could barely believe it - he’d been shot? It was like something out of a bad episode of Law and Order. Except he couldn’t make up the looks on his partners’ faces or the fact that his parents - who hated leaving his small hometown in Kansas - had come all the way to Boston. Mostly sitting quietly in the corners of his room, but here. Avery wasn’t sure if they’d come to comfort him or wanted reassurance themselves that he wasn’t dead, but on some level he appreciated their presence.
And then there was the pain. Even if the story was unbelievable the pain was real enough that sometimes he wished he was still unconscious, just for an hour or two. He’d been shot in the chest and abdomen and had so many tubes coming out of his body that he felt like an octopus, sprawled helplessly on the sand.
There were tubes in his chest to keep his lungs inflated and an IV with multiple lines in his arm, delivering antibiotics and fluids and pain meds. He’d gotten blood transfusions in the emergency room and during surgery and now they were monitoring his blood pressure every ten minutes with a cuff around his arm. The catheter in his dick was an entirely different kind of uncomfortable but he couldn’t exactly stand up to pee right now.
But worst of all was his stomach. It had taken the brunt of the bullets and although the doctor said it would heal, right now it was barely working at all. The drops of liquid nutrition they introduced through a feeding tube in his side made him nauseous and bloated, but even when it was empty, his stomach always hurt. And oh yeah, there was a drainage tube - for bile and “gastric juices” as a nurse called them - just the thought of that made Avery gag.
So it definitely all sucked. Too many pain meds made him woozy but the one time he tried to go completely without them he was writhing in agony and throwing up less than half an hour later. Another man might have folded, taken drugs to knock him out for hours, shut himself away in misery. But Avery had the advantage of being a naturally optimistic person, and right now, two days after coming off the vent, he was practically giddy to be alive.
“You’re making me look bad, Morrison.” Rory glared at him from his seat by Avery’s bed. “How can you be so fucking happy?”
“Cause I’m grateful not to be dead?” Avery wasn’t surprised at Rory’s attitude but he wasn’t going to share it. “It’s enough work to get my physical body healed; I don’t have the energy to be depressed about it too.”
“Very healthy of you,” Noa nodded. She’d been with Rory every time he’d visited Avery and he assumed the couple hadn’t spent more than a couple of minutes apart since the shooting. “But make sure you don’t suppress your feelings, okay, hon?” Noa peered meaningfully at him. “That’s not healthy either.”
“Lucky for me I’ve got the world's best therapist looking out for me then.” Avery gave Noa what was supposed to be a cheeky grin but felt like more of a grimace. His pain meds were wearing off again but as soon as they gave him more he’d get too loopy to have a conversation and he wanted to keep talking to Noa and Rory as long as he could. It was kind of annoying to feel like physical crap when all he wanted to do was hang out with his friends.
As if summoned there by his thoughts, the door pushed open and Gabe walked in, Adam right behind him.
Avery slapped the smile back on his face. “All the Calders at once? I didn’t know I was so popular.” He considered raising the head of his bed a little more so he could look the new arrivals in the eye but quickly decided it would hurt too much. Let them do the work if they wanted to see him.
“Don’t let it go to your head Morrison; we came to see Rory.” The words were Adam’s but his tone was missing some of his usual snark. Or maybe Avery just couldn’t hear him clearly, lying practically on his back like he was. This wasn’t the first time Adam had come to the hospital but Avery’s memories of those earlier visits were hazy - had he said anything? Avery wasn’t sure. Things had been . . . not great weird between them right before he’d been shot, and right now he didn’t have the energy to think about it, so he didn’t. There’d be time to tell Adam he needed to stop texting so much when he was feeling better in a week or two.
Still, if Adam was being obnoxious it required that Avery return the favor. He managed a weak snort, trying not to wince when the movement made his chest burn. “Whatever you say . . . sweetheart.” He didn’t have a lot of air and the word got almost swallowed up at the end. Across the room, someone made an impatient sound.
“Dude, stop talking.” Rory’s voice carried better than Adam’s had. “You can barely breathe; do you two really need to do this right now?”
“Not . . . doing anything,” Avery protested weakly. If Adam agreed, he didn’t say so - at least not so Avery could hear. A wave of nausea washed over him and then eased up, but the pain in his stomach stayed. He closed his eyes for a second. This was what he wanted, to have people here, talking and joking. It was really annoying he couldn’t enjoy it enough right now.
There were other quiet conversations going on around him, but he didn’t pay attention because he needed to focus on breathing through the discomfort in his middle. The pain was one thing; he could have handled that for a while longer, if his stomach hadn’t been so upset too. Jeremiah had explained that it wasn’t able to digest properly right now, but it kept trying, and the effort was likely to make him queasy. Just another thing to deal with.
He’d just managed a semi-relieving burp when Noa was suddenly leaning over his bed, talking. “I’m taking Rory to get food; he’s barely eaten.” Avery opened his eyes and gave her a slight nod of understanding that his partner wasn’t taking care of himself right now. Typical Rory, but he was lucky, cause he had Noa to look out for him when he couldn’t do it himself. As if reading his thoughts, she shrugged apologetically. “He’s making Gabe and Adam stay here with you.”
“Of course he is,” muttered Avery. He tried to look around, failed, and let his head fall back into his pillow. “Where’s Logan?” She’d been there the first day, he was sure of it. Or at least, pretty sure. Noa gave a small grimace.
“Stomach flu - Gabe got it from Jeremiah and now Logan caught it from Gabe. She started throwing up last night.” Noa glanced across the room. “Gabe came here after work but I know he’s antsy to get home to her.”
Avery’s brain felt scrambled. “I thought . . . Drew,” he mumbled. The nurse had been the one sick - he’d puked in Avery’s bathroom - it felt like just yesterday that Avery had left him there. But no, Drew had been at the hospital - checking on his IV - yesterday? The thought that Drew had recovered and then passed the bug to Jeremiah and Gabe and now Logan - all while Avery had been unconscious - was disorienting.
“Whaddabout. . . n’vermind.” Avery didn’t really care who else might be waiting to get sick. “Go feed Rory. “M’ fine.”
“I’ll tell the nurse to bring you more pain meds.” Noa didn’t bother to ask Avery if he was ready for them. Good thing, because he might have been too stubborn to say yes. Noa rested her hand on his shoulder, which was one of the only places that didn’t hurt right now. “We’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I’ll come by on my lunch break and Jack said he and Rory will meet here after work.”
“‘Kay,” he breathed out. He was aware of Noa and Rory leaving - even said goodbye to them he was pretty sure - and then closed his eyes again. Gabe and Adam could talk to each other; he really didn’t care right now. His chest was burning around the chest tube and his stomach was rolling and breathing hurt, but of course he couldn’t just stop. Instead he panted shallowly, which made him feel lightheaded but at least it didn’t hurt as much as taking regular deep breaths. He reminded himself - again - to be grateful he was even aware he had these problems when days ago he’d been unconscious on a ventilator. His parents had even left that morning now that he was out of danger. In a week or two he’d be feeling so much better, so he just had to be patient.
Gabe and Adam weren’t trying to distract him, which was kind of a surprise but also a relief, that he wasn’t even expected to be social right now. When he heard the door open he gave a relieved sigh and opened his eyes to welcome the nurse coming in with his pain meds.
Except the nurse wasn’t there. Neither was Gabe; instead, Adam was standing alone at the foot of Avery’s bed, staring at him with a tense, unfamiliar expression on his face. When he saw Avery looking back at him his face relaxed into something approaching a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Gabe left,” he explained unnecessarily, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Logan’s home sick.”
“Yeah Noa told me,” Avery rasped, and then because Adam didn’t seem ready to say anything else, added, “did you get it?”
“No!” For some reason the question seemed to cheer Adam up. He took a step closer. “I mean, not yet at least. Still time though, I guess; I was with Logan the other day, we were talking for a while and she . . .” Adam stopped midsentence and shook his head, half to himself. “Never mind.”
“I always mind, Calder; you know that.” Avery was feeling increasingly lousy but also stubborn, and having Adam here alone filled him with a strange sort of adrenaline. Now he kept talking, breathing carefully between thoughts to keep ahead of the nausea, “that’sit, right? . . . that I mind . . . too much.” One of the machines attached to him began beeping, the noise filling up the space. Adam shook his head.
“I never said . . .” he began, and then peered at Avery’s face. “Are you okay?”
Avery shook his head. “Can you . . .” - he swallowed and gestured shakily at the counter and its stack of emesis basins - “gonna puke.”
“Oh shit, hold on,” Adam leapt for a bag while Avery gulped down and tried to keep his stomach under control for a little while longer. He knew from experience that throwing up without pain meds was going to hurt. He couldn’t hold back a gag, though, or the moan of pain that slipped out right after. His stomach gave a slow, nauseating flip.
“Here, d’you need help sitting up? I don’t want you to choke.” Adam hovered over him, trying to maneuver the emesis bag under his chin even though Avery was almost flat on his back.
There was liquid crawling up his throat and he couldn’t answer. His body convulsed in a retch and he moaned again, suddenly so dizzy it felt like his bed was tilting sideways. He reached out to grab something to stop from falling and found Adam’s hand.
“I’ve got you, here, puke if you need to.” Adam’s voice seemed to be coming from the end of a long tunnel. His body was close, though, one arm braced behind Avery’s back to hold him in place and the other hand thread through Avery’s both of them holding the blue bag against Avery’s mouth as he gagged and spit up some of the liquid nutrition they’d been trying to give him through the feeding tube.
“S-sorry,” he gasped between heaves, “gross.”
“Yeah, well, we seem to do gross a lot together, don’t we?” Adam sounded almost cheerful. “I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen you puke, Morrison.”
“Likewise,” muttered Avery. He shuffled uncomfortably on the bed, trying and failing to ease the pain spiking across his middle. Adam’s arm tightened around his back.
“Here, can you sit up any more? You’re drooling onto your chest.”
“No,” Avery grunted, slumping instead into the man’s side. The cheerfulness he’d felt when Rory and Noa were there had evaporated in a haze of pain and nausea and the fact that he didn’t care about putting on an act for Adam. “Hurts.” He started panting again, pushing air in and out in pained little gasps, burping up small mouthfuls of puke in between. “Fuck.”
“Give me about a minute and I’ll have you in much better shape, okay sweetheart? And then we’ll get Calder out of here and you can rest.” Drew’s voice was cheery and soothing as he started injecting meds into Avery’s IV - “something for the pain and an anti-nausea; let me know when you start feeling relief, okay?”
“Kay,” Avery agreed. There was already warmth seeping into his limbs and he sucked in a deep breath and then blew it out, groaning when the effort didn’t make him erupt in pain. “Better.”
“The magic of morphine,” explained Drew. “I’m adding a bag of IV hydration to help balance your blood pressure.”
Avery was beginning to feel the out-of-body floatiness he associated with strong pain meds. “Thanks,” he mumbled into Adam's shoulder. “For helpin’ me puke.”
“To be fair, you did most of that yourself; I just helped hold the bowl.” Adam’s voice was soft on Avery’s cheek. “Let me take this, okay?” He tugged his hand away, and the emesis basin. “You’re looking better.”
“Feelin’ better,” he agreed, sinking into his pillow and closing his eyes. It would be good to rest . . .
Why didn’t you call me earlier? He doesn’t need to suffer like that
Avery’s eyes fluttered open. Was Drew talking to him? His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton.
Someone else answered before he could, much closer: I thought Noa’d told you - figured you were just too busy to come right away
And I figured you were enjoying your ‘alone time’ too much. Think maybe it’s time to get off his bed? If I remember correctly, you’re not welcome there anymore.
Fuck you, Thorton. The warmth and weight at Avery’s side suddenly disappeared. He tried to reach for it to bring it back, but his arms felt like lead. The voices were fading as the darkness pulled him under.
“You’re late.” Drew said, answering the phone when Finn called. She was sitting on the exam table, her legs swinging, while she waited for the doctor.
“I know, I know. The meeting ran late and I couldn’t get out of the building. I’m leaving now, I’ll be there.”
“You won’t make it across town in time. You know there’s always traffic.”
“I’m sorry, Drew.” He sighed, she could practically hear him running his hand through his hair in frustration. “I really wanted to be there, I wanted to see our baby.”
Drew shrugged, knowing that he couldn’t see her. “It’s alright, I’ll bring home the sonograms and then you can see them.”
The door to the room opened and the OB walked in, smiling kindly at Drew.
“I gotta go, the doctor just came in. I’ll see you in a little bit.” Drew hung up and put her phone in her purse.
“No Dad today?” the doctor asked.
“No, he got stuck at work.”
“Well we’ll make sure to get some good pictures for him.”
When Drew got home Finn was already there, bumbling about the kitchen.
“Hey Baby.” Finn said as soon as he saw Drew. “How was everything? I’m making your favorite.”
“Spaghetti with sausage instead of meatballs?” Drew bounced on her toes excitedly.
“Yes, exactly that. Now tell me about the appointment.” Finn dried his hands on a dishtowel and walked over where Drew was pulling the sonograms out of her purse.
“Everything is perfect, they’re even sucking their thumb in some.” She said with a smile, holding the picture out to Finn. She pulled out an envelope last, sliding it across the table.
“What’s that?”
“The sex. I didn’t want to find out without you so she wrote it down and put it in there for us.”
“Oh my god, can I open it?”
Drew nodded with a smile, “Yeah, that’s why I gave it to you.”
Finn ripped open the envelope and pulled out the piece of paper, putting it back down and rounding the table and wrapping his arms around Drew. He gave her a kiss on the head and pulled back holding her face in his hands.
“We’re having a girl.”
Drew’s face lit up, her eyes widening. “A girl?”
Finn nodded and planted a kiss on her lips, “A girl, Baby. We’re going to have a little girl.
28 weeks: Eggplant
“Do I have to wear this blindfold? It’s making me motion sick.” Drew mumbled, her arms crossed over her stomach that had unmistakably rounded out.
“We’re almost there, Baby. Just a couple more minutes.”
“I had my glucose test today, that’s also probably making me nauseous.”
“That’s the one for baby diabetes right?”
“Gestational diabetes, yes.” She sighed, “I was fine during, but all the sugar is making my stomach upset. It also doesn’t help that your daughter is practicing her tumbling in there.”
Finn pulled the car to a stop and walked around to open Drew’s door. “Can I feel her?”
Drew laughed and moved his hand when she felt it on her stomach. “Did you stop the car just for this? She’s kind of moving around constantly, you’re not missing anything”
“She’s going to be a soccer player. I can feel it.” Finn said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “C’mon, get out of the car, we’re here.”
He grabbed her hand and helped her out, guiding her to the perfect spot before pulling off her blindfold.
Drew opened her eyes to the cutest, modern cape cod style house. With dormers and columns and a red front door. The same exact house she had seen go from “for sale” to “sale pending” in front of her face.
“Oh my God.” She said breathily.
“What do you think? It’s 4 bedrooms, 2.5 baths. There’s carpet but we can always change that if you want.”
“It’s great.” Drew was at a loss for words.
“You like it?” Finn asked nervously, his hands in his pockets.
“I love it.”
Finn pulled out a keyring with 2 keys hanging on it. “Good, because it’s ours.”
“H-How? It wasn’t even on the market anymore.”
“I put in an offer the day after you showed it to me. You were so excited about it and I just knew this was somewhere we could raise our girl." Finn turned toward Drew. She was in awe, a single tear running down her cheek. Happy crying was a newer development.
He stood in front of her and wiped the tear away with his thumb.
"Wanna go inside?"
Drew sniffled and nodded, "Yeah, I do."
32 weeks: Cantaloupe
“I got the floors done and the appliances put in, I just want you to see before we start moving stuff in.” Finn said, putting his key in the door.
“Finn, I’m tired, and my feet hurt.”
Drew was pretty sure she couldn’t get any bigger at this point, or she hoped she couldn’t.
She was consistently uncomfortable and felt like her body had been hijacked by a somersaulting soccer player who decided the most comfortable way to relax was with her foot in Drew’s ribs.
Finn tried his best to make Drew feel as good as he could, buying her a pregnancy pillow when she started losing sleep because she was too uncomfortable and giving her back rubs whenever she wanted. He even started talking to the baby when she was moving around too much for Drew to get rest.
“I picked out the floors and appliances. I know what they look like.” She whined, stepping into the house.
“Yeah, but you haven’t seen it in the space, baby. I just want to make sure it’s perfect.”
Drew turned the corner into the living room and stopped in her tracks.
There were pink and white balloons and streamers everywhere and furniture she had never seen before.
“Surprise!!” Everyone stood and popped pink confetti in the air. She spotted Mila and Remy with Leah who was bouncing around on the sectional and then clung to Morgan’s back as he was leaning over the coffee table, eating some kind of charcuterie.
Leo was sitting back, content with watching the chaos along with Ambrose and Liam.
It was the first time she had seen all of her people in one place. Her village.
“Happy baby shower, baby.” Finn said, pulling her into him as she sniffled and rubbed at her eyes.
“Don’t cry, Drew.” He said quietly, giving her a gentle kiss.
“No, I’m happy.” She laughed wetly, “I’m really happy.”
38 weeks: Small Watermelon
“You look tired.” Mila said, folding freshly washed blankets and placing them on the coffee table.
“Thanks.” Drew mumbled, rubbing the sides of her stomach where her skin was pulled as taught as she thought possible. “Sleeping is sooo easy when you have a 7 pound lunatic flipping around in you.” Drew pulled herself forward so she was sitting on the edge of the couch, wincing as a cramp shot through her lower belly.
“You okay?” Mila asked, eyeing her from across the couch.
She was there helping Drew finish up unpacking, while Finn and Remy were out picking up odds and ends for the nursery.
It was the last room in the house that needed to be finished, which Mila thought was insane since Drew seemed like she could pop any day. Luckily most of the essentials were taken care of with the baby shower. They had diapers and onesies and tiny little socks for days.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Just braxton hicks.” Drew leaned forward and grabbed a set of newborn footie pajamas from the laundry basket to fold. She was wearing gray sweatpants and a green hoodie that was tight across her bump. It wasn't lost of Mila that a couple months ago Drew was freaking out over what to wear around them to her barely even bothering to change out of her pajamas when they came over. She felt comfortable around them.
“I can take care of this stuff, you can relax.” Mila said, piling all the baby blankets and clothes in the now empty basket.
“I can do laundry, M. It’s about the only thing I can do.” Drew scooted back on the couch, lifting her feet to sit cross legged. She cradled her stomach and took in a sharp breath as another cramp hit her.
“Listen, I’m not trying to have you go into labor while I’m here.” Mila teased, standing with the laundry basket and setting it at the bottom of the stairs.
“I’m not due for another week and some change” Drew responded, absently rubbing her hand across her belly.
“December baby.” Mila commented, sitting back down with Drew. “Have you guys come up with any names yet?”
Drew shrugged, “We have a couple we both like, but nothing in stone.”
“You guys are really cutting it close, do you have a birth bag together?” Mila pried.
Drew rolled her eyes, “Yes, we have a birth bag, Mom.”
“I’m sorry! I’m just trying to make sure my friends are prepared.”
“We are physically prepared for a baby.” Drew laughed. “Mentally? Terrified.”
“I think that’s normal. Kids are freaky.”
“I’m glad I have a freaky kid to look forward to.” Drew uncrossed her legs, “I’m getting a drink do you want anything?”
“I can get it-”
“I can handle it, M. I have to get up, my back is killing me.” Drew pushed herself off the couch and waddled into the kitchen, raising her hands over her head to try and stretch her back.
Mile pulled out her phone and leaned back into the sectional, listening to Drew shuffling around in the kitchen.
She jumped when she heard a splash and Drew cursing. Mila walked into the kitchen calmly, expecting to find Drew having spilled whatever she was getting to drink and probably needing help cleaning up.
Instead she found her steadying herself on the island, her gray sweatpants dark with wetness and a huge puddle at her feet.
Drew seemed panicked, her face white and her breathing heavy.
“Was that-”
“You should probably call Finn.” Drew cut her off, “I think my water just broke.”
A/N: This is not where I intended to end, but it made the most sense and I won't have time to finish the next part for a couple of days. So again, posting at a stupid time when no one is around. Thank you to everyone who asked for more Gabe and Adam - and more is coming. Gabe is such a newbie when it comes to relationships and feelings - that's actually going to suit him well here. And Adam . . . oh Adam. I deliberately added a few details that won't make sense until the next fic. Also, for those sharpening pitchforks for Drew, he's not quite going to change any minds here . . . In the meantime, Happy New Year!
“Did Adam seem weird to you?” Gabe lounged on Noa and Rory’s bed while his girlfriend flitted around grabbing clothes and toiletries and putting them into a duffel. He’d offered to help - he knew to do that much at least - but Logan had assured him it would be faster if she packed alone.
“Weirder than usual?” Logan came out of the walk-in closet holding a pile of sweatshirts. “Which one do you think will be easiest for Rory to put on? Or should I get a pajama top?”
“I dunno; take a couple.” Gabe didn’t really want to think about why his best friend might have trouble wearing a shirt right now. It was easier to think about his brother and whatever was going on with him. “D’you think he’s upset that we didn’t call him right away?”
“Hmm, maybe.” Logan shoved a bunch of shirts into the duffel and then began rifling through Noa’s dresser. “It wasn’t on purpose; I don’t think anyone was thinking clearly, you know.” She rubbed idly at her side. “Can you go to Noa and Rory’s medicine cabinet in the kitchen and see if they have Pepto? Next to the fridge. My stomach feels kind of weird.”
Gabe stopped thinking about his brother. “Weird how? When did it start feeling bad?” He got up so he could lay his hand across Logan’s forehead. “You don’t feel warm . . . ” he gave her a sheepish smile, “- at least I don’t think you do; I can’t really tell.”
“I don’t think I’m sick, sick . . . “ Logan stopped packing and wrapped her arms around her waist, bending over slightly until a small burp came up. “Ugh I think it’s something I ate.” She paused for another second, grimacing, before burping again. This one was wetter and she made another face. “What’d we have for lunch?”
“You had soup and a gluten free roll from the hospital cafeteria.” Gabe frowned, moving closer to look at Logan’s face. Not too pale, but pinched with discomfort that hadn’t been there earlier. He touched her cheek. “At least I hope it was gluten free.” He’d been the one to order for her, confirming twice with the woman serving the food that the torpedo-shaped rolls were the gluten free ones, and that her chicken and rice soup had been kept separate the entire time. A new spike of anxiety bloomed in his chest, adding to the general worry about Rory and Avery that had taken root earlier.
“Me too,” Logan groaned, sitting heavily on the spot on the bed Gabe had vacated. She shut her eyes for a few seconds in concentration and then opened them again. “I’m not really cramping like when I have gluten, it’s more . . .” she pursed her lips and looked vaguely disgusted, blowing out a shaky breath.
“Queasy?” Gabe guessed. He stopped his plans to call the hospital cafeteria and interrogate them about their menu. Glutened was bad, but queasy he could work with. “You said you want Pepto? How about I make you some tea? Noa always has like a hundred kinds.” He watched carefully at Logan’s face while she breathed slowly in and out. “Or I think they keep some of your crackers here.” It sucked to be at Rory and Noa’s condo instead of his apartment or Logan’s, but Gabe felt comfortable enough here to treat it as if it was his own right now.
“Ugh no, no food,” Logan gulped. “Not even sure I want the Pepto at the moment.” She bent forward over her lap and Gabe heard a series of airy burps. “I might have to throw up.” She sat back up and sighed heavily. “I really want to get back to the hospital though, -” she gulped down - “before . . . just before. To keep Rory company.”
And just like that, Gabe was doubly anxious again. He glanced at his phone even though it was way too early for Jeremiah to have sent a message. Of course there was nothing; Gabe would have even taken a text from Rory or Adam - anything to reassure him his family was at least sort of okay, or at least wanting to communicate.
A harsh belch interrupted. Logan was bent over again, hands cupped over her mouth. Without moving them away she slid awkwardly off the bed and stumbled over to the garbage can. “Uhhhgh,” she groaned, drooling onto the crumpled papers and tissues at the bottom of the bin, “I do not feel well.” She burped again and looked mournfully up at Gabe. “I need -” she hiccupped and her mouth twisted - “gonnapuke,” she slurred.
Gabe jumped into action. “Bathroom,” he commanded, grabbing her by the elbow and tugging her after him. “Don’t puke on the floor.”
Logan managed to glare at him. “Gimme credit,” she mumbled. “Noa’d kill me.” She tightened her jaw and leaned heavily on Gabe to walk into the bathroom. He helped her kneel in front of the toilet and pulled her hair back - here was a place he felt competent at least. Logan gagged over the bowl. “Oh fuck me,” she groaned.
“Probably not today,” Gabe quipped, and Logan shot him a quick smile.
“I love you” she managed, and leaned further over the water to pant and heave. Gabe rubbed her back but didn’t bother making any encouraging comments because he knew she thought they were dumb. When her breathing grew erratic he stopped touching her, and a few seconds later she retched violently and threw up a huge gush of liquid.
Gabe grabbed one of Noa’s silvery blue hand towels and wet it in the sink while Logan puked some more, spitting and swearing in between heaves. When she finally fell back on her heels, he was ready with the cloth and a cup of water.
“Thanks,” she gasped. “God that sucked. Feeling better though.” She wiped her face and slowly stood up to rinse her mouth in the sink. “Something I ate just wasn’t sitting well.”
“So you think you’re done?” Some of the knot of anxiety in Gabe’s chest eased when Logan nodded.
“I think so, but maybe I’ll stay here a little longer just to be sure while you take the bag to Noa and Rory.” Logan leaned into Gabe and rested her head on his chest. “I don’t want them to have to wait for their stuff if I end up feeling nauseous again.”
Normally Gabe would never leave his girlfriend if there was a chance she was going to throw up again, but nothing about today was normal. “Okay but I’m going to stop by Adam’s first.” He couldn’t explain why, but he knew Adam was upset about something - something more than being the last to know about the shooting. “Then I’ll meet you at the hospital.”
Logan didn’t try to convince him that Adam was fine, or that Rory and Noa needed their clothes right away. She settled on their sofa with the trash can on the coffee table and a promise to text him if she got sick again and Gabe left to go wait for his Uber. Jeremiah still hadn’t texted and he supposed that was a good thing. He just hoped Logan got to the hospital soon, and that they’d have some good news.
**********
“Did Adam seem weird to you?” Jeremiah wished he could put his arm around Drew as they walked out of the ER. His boyfriend still looked pale and a little shaky, although much better than the night before when he’d picked him up from Avery’s apartment. He’d had to half carry him down the stairs then, and he’d thrown up on Jeremiah’s shirt. The ride home felt like a million years ago already. Drew had still been asleep when Jeremiah left for work this morning; he was four hours into his shift when news of the shooting filtered through the hospital. Even though Mass General’s trauma unit regularly saw gunshot victims, Jeremiah only had to hear the words “FBI” before he was sprinting down to the ER. Drew had arrived an hour later, still queasy, and Jeremiah was more grateful than he could convey to have his boyfriend near.
“More weird than normal? Not really.” Drew let out a breathy burp into his fist and sighed with relief. “Oof I needed that.” When Jeremiah didn’t say anything else, he touched him on the cheek. “You know Adam a lot better than I do; what do you think?”
Jeremiah chose his words carefully. “I think he was shocked, which I’d expect; we all were.” He followed Drew as he walked into the nurse’s lounge and sat heavily on one of the sofas. “Are you still queasy? You got an anti-emetic in your IV but I can order a bolus.”
Drew waved off his concern. “I’m okay, just feeling a little drained. Tell me about Adam.” He leaned forward. “Yes his shock was justified, but I think you were about to add a ‘but’ to that sentence.” He took the packet of saltines Jeremiah handed him and began nibbling on one, and then opened a bottle of electrolyte solution and took a small sip.
Jeremiah grabbed one of the crackers too. All he’d had time for was coffee today and his stomach was sloshing. “What did he tell you that day you stitched him up? That they’d fought about something? I’m sure Adam feels bad about that.” He swallowed some of Drew’s electrolyte drink before continuing. “Their relationship has always been complicated . . .”
“. . . Relationship? They were just fucking,” Drew interrupted with a scoff. “I”m not sure I’d even call them friends, no matter what Morrison thought he wanted. Avery finally put his foot down and Adam didn’t like that.” Drew pointed at the bottle in Jeremiah’s hand. “You’re going to catch my bug now,” he huffed. “Aren’t you supposed to be a doctor? But anyway, Avery is boyfriend material, that’s what I told him. And Adam isn’t.” He shrugged. “I think he was pouting a bit, to be honest.”
“Hey now, that’s not . . . fair,” Jeremiah protested, muffling a burp into his fist. It was true that most of the time he secretly liked Drew’s prickliness about Adam. The jealousy was kind of cute, and in the past Jeremiah wasn’t above exaggerating his and Adam’s history just to get a rise out of his boyfriend. But right now, given the reality of the situation, he wasn’t as amused.
“I’ve never known Adam to be so persistent; not even with me,” he told Drew now. “Maybe he and Avery were . . . urRP! . . . s’cuse me . . . maybe they argued about something, but Adam’s usually not one to fight. Normally he’d just walk away and not think twice.” Jeremiah’s stomach gave an uneasy gurgle and Drew’s eyes narrowed.
“Is that why you didn’t care about sharing my drink? Because you’re already sick?” He reached over and pressed the back of his hand to Jeremiah’s forehead. “How’s your belly?”
Jeremiah pushed his boyfriend’s hand away. “It’s a little upset but I’m fine, I promise. Let me explain why I’m right about Adam.”
“Hmmm.” Drew didn’t look convinced about anything Jeremiah was saying. “I’ll listen to your side, consider it, and then explain why I’m right about Avery needing to find someone else.” No one was around so he leaned forward until his forehead touched Jeremiah’s. “And also remind you to let me be the first to know if you start feeling nauseous,” he whispered. “Since I’m the one who gave you this bug.”
Jeremiah gave into the comfort of Drew’s closeness for just another second before pushing back. “I’m not leaving the hospital,” he said flatly. “Even if I’m puking up my guts - Not until we have news. And then I’m staying after that too.” Drew hadn’t seen the medical notes from Avery’s intake but Jeremiah had - bullets had hit his lungs, liver, upper thigh, plus more internal damage from shrapnel. One shot had missed his femoral artery by millimeters, which was the only reason he was on his way to the operating room and not the morgue. There was no guarantee about how the surgery would go and Jeremiah refused to leave his friends - especially Rory - alone to face the news. Good or bad, healthy or sick, he was going to be here. It was his responsibility as a doctor to help everyone understand whatever happened.
“You are a stubborn man,” Drew admonished him, even though they both knew it wasn’t really true. Jeremiah was a softie about most things, a peacemaker. But he could be stubborn about his patients, when needed. And right now, about Adam.
“If Avery makes it through surgery,” he lectured, “we’re going to let him and Adam figure things out, without interference.” With anyone else Jeremiah would have said ‘when’ Avery made it through surgery, but he didn’t have to sugar coat for the nurse. His stomach gurgled again, but that was okay. He wasn’t queasy, just a little uncomfortable. Although he was grateful he’d finished his procedures and rounds this morning. Now was technically his prep time, but no one was going to hold him to that right now. He’d update his notes at some point today.
Jeremiah may not have been stubborn but his boyfriend certainly was, and he wasn’t going to let Adam off the hook that easily. “ Avery deserves better and you know it,” he argued. “C’mon, Jer, could you ever imagine Adam being a boyfriend? Especially to Morrison?” He shook his head and pushed more of the saltines across the table. “Here, eat these; your stomach needs something to digest.”
“Thanks for taking care of me, babe.” Jeremiah ripped open the packet of crackers and decided to let the subject of whether Adam Calder could ever be relationship material drop. Because right now all they could do was hope and pray there would be plenty more days to gossip about Avery Morrison having a crush on the wrong guy.
********
Three times Gabe started to text Adam on the way to his apartment and three times he erased the message because he wasn’t sure what to say. Wanted to check on you - - Adam would ask why. You okay? - - he’d say yes and give Gabe shit for being emotional - the two of them didn’t usually talk about their feelings with each other. And anyway, Gabe couldn’t even explain why he wanted to see Adam, when they’d just been together an hour ago. It was silly.
But, there had been something unfamiliar in his brother’s expression when he said he was going back to his apartment - - if Gabe hadn’t known better, he might have said Adam was distressed. Which made sense; they were all distressed right now. Except that Adam in a crisis was normally in his element - gathering information, explaining what they needed to know, calling on his vast network for answers if he didn’t already have them himself. Using his ego for good - because sometimes it was comforting to rely on someone else who knew it all.
Today though, Adam hadn’t seemed to know anything, and instead just looked kind of lost. Gabe didn’t like it. He’d take his brother's ego being too much over too little any day, and especially on a day like this. Normally, Noa would have noticed too, and probably fixed it by now but today . . . Gabe didn’t want to think about why his sister would naturally be distracted right now. If something happened to Avery . . .
No. It was less stressful to wonder what was going on with Adam, so that’s what Gabe would do.
Although by the time his Uber approached Adam’s building, Gabe still didn’t have a plan. Not that he couldn’t just talk to his brother, but the awfulness of the day was already weighing so heavily, he couldn’t even think straight. Maybe he should have stayed with Logan; was she getting sick again? What had he been thinking, leaving her? He fumbled for his phone just as the Uber jerked to a stop and someone opened the door.
“Gabe? Why are you . . . what’s wrong?” Adam pushed his way into the car, climbing on top of Gabe so he could pull the door closed behind him. “Go, Mass General,” he ordered the driver with a tone of voice Gabe had never heard from him before. It sounded more like something Rory would say, when he was being authoritative. Like maybe he’d been earlier today when . . . Don’t think about it.
Instead he wriggled around and tried to elbow Adam in the side, “can’t . . . breathe . . . ‘ he grunted. His brother was sitting on his fucking chest and didn’t seem in a hurry to move.
“What th’ hell? Let ‘im out first, man,” the Uber driver threw the car into park so he could turn around and glare at Adam. “Or I’ll kick you out too.”
“It’s fine, he’s my brother,” said Adam impatiently. “Will you drive, please?”
While the driver and his brother were locked in their battle Gabe finally got his hand around Adam’s ankle and pinched, hard. Adam yelped and jumped and almost hit the roof of the car but at least he rolled off Gabe. “What the fuck? Are you twelve?” He shoved his hip against Gabe, hard enough to push him across the seat.
“Are you?” Gabe shot back. He rubbed his chest. “It’s fine, I’ll go to the hospital too,” he told the driver, and then smacked Adam on the side of his head. “Next time just ask me to move, asshole.”
Adam gave him an aggrieved look. “You should talk, that hurt.” He very deliberately crossed his legs so that his ankles were out of Gabe’s reach. “Can we just go?”
“You’re lucky I have brothers; we loved to beat the shit out of each other.” The Uber driver seemed cheerful again and as he pulled away from the curb Adam visibly relaxed.
“Finally,” he huffed, and then stared confusedly at Gabe as if he’d just noticed his brother was in the car with him. “Wait, why are you at my apartment? Did something happen? If Jeremiah didn’t text me . . .” He grabbed for Gabe’s phone, which had just buzzed. “What’sit say?”
“Fuck Adam chill out,” Gabe griped, pushing him away again. If he hadn’t thought Adam was acting weird before he definitely thought something was up now. “It’s Logan; I need to see if she’s sick.” He turned purposely away so he could read her text without Adam breathing down his neck. So of course he started flicking the back of Gabe’s neck instead.
Fortunately Logan was reporting that she hadn’t puked again and would be heading to the hospital soon. Gabe quickly texted her back without letting his brother see - with Adam on way to hosp - trying to figure out what’s up w him - love you.”
“So it’s not from Jer . . . she’s sick?” Adam finally stopped beating on Gabe. “What’s wrong with her?” he asked distractedly, looking at his own phone. He seemed annoyed about something or other he saw there, fingers flying as he sent a text.
“Nothing, something she ate,” Gabe kicked Adam’s foot, “but what’s your deal? You’ve been -” the word ‘weird’ didn’t seem right, “- not like you.” That was the best he could do and he wished he’d had more time to ask Logan what she thought he should say. But, whatever. Everything felt wrong right now which meant Adam couldn’t really blame him.
Adam shrugged and went still. When he hadn’t said anything for two blocks Gabe tried again. “Is this about Rory?” He had no doubt Adam would step up to support Rory and Noa but maybe right now he wasn’t sure what to do. And Adam liked to know what to do.
“Yeah I guess.” Adam didn’t sound very sure, which made Gabe think he was right, that Adam was experiencing one of those rare times he was out of his element. Probably trying to figure out how to get back on his game.
“And . . . Morrison,” he mumbled, so quietly at first Gabe wasn’t sure he’d heard right. Adam cleared his throat. “I just want to, uhh, make sure he’s got someone to look out for him. Like Rory’s got all of us.”
“Avery’s got us too,” Gabe protested. “You know he’s like a brother to Rory; no way he’s going to let him be alone. Noa too.”
“Yeah but Rory’s got his own recovery to deal with,” Adam disagreed. “Morrison’s going to need . . . you know what? Forget it.”
Again, Adam sounded weird. And the expression on his face - was he blushing? Gabe didn’t believe it; Adam never blushed.
“Is there something going on between you two?” he blurted out. “Something you haven’t told me? Cause I thought it was just sex.” They were pulling up to the hospital entrance and Gabe didn’t want to think about what they’d find out when they got there.
Adam opened his mouth and then closed it again. The Uber stopped but instead of immediately getting out, he turned and looked at Gabe. “You’re right,” he said, voice thin and strained. “It was just sex. And now it’s not.” He jerked open the car door and jumped out, disappearing into the hospital before Gabe could even move.
now we just need. Gay hockey sickfic and we will be SET.
idk I’ve been luring on your blog for a MINUTE and wanted to say something
Believe me, if I knew anything at all about hockey as a sport I would have a whole team of gay hockey OCs. I am hyper-fixating so hard, I would be unstoppable.
Also, you can always feel free to send me asks about anything I post on here! I’ll never turn down some friendly correspondence 😊
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