anna. 25. sickfics (especially emeto). good vibes. she/her/they/them finally made a blog for all the kinks. RP. minors please please please dni. we’d love to have you when your 18+ xoxo
One of my favorite tropes is character A talking to character B, their romantic interest, and B suddenly interrupts A to feel their forehead. "Are you feeling okay??" and A is absolutely losing their mind because B is touching them?? A is blushing so bad from talking to B that B thinks they're sick?? And of course A brushes it off and insists they're fine but little do they know they'll be bedridden with a fever within 12 hours (and B will be taking care of them...of course)
please please please do not go into work if you have covid. i know it’s just a “cold” for some of you. but i can’t get vaccinated and it’s not just a “cold” for me.
covid is still around. it can still make you very very sick—especially if you’re unvaccinated.
so i beg you. PLEASE stay home if you’re sick. PLEASE get vaccinated if you can… if not for yourself, then for the people around you who can’t.
in other news i’ve been throwing up for 2 days straight and there are no signs of it stopping anytime soon.
He shuffled on the bed, taking a second to open his eyes given they seemed glued shut, whole body sticky with sweat and his mouth tasting like something had crawled in there and died. Max let out a sigh, blinking several times to situate himself.
He was in lying in bed, on his back, staring at the ceiling. Wendy's ceiling fan had 5 paddles, forming sort of a flower from his point of view. The room was dipped in darkness and quiet and... When Max craned his stiff neck, he realized he was not alone.
The air stopped in his lungs, the small headache that had been simmering spiking up at the startle. Vince was lying right next to him, rolled on his side, one arm under a pillow, the other one stretched out over a blanket lump and limp right next to Max's hip... Had he been holding him?
Max stared at Vin's hand, the fact that his fingers were less than an inch away from his exposed midriff, then glanced up once more. His eyes were getting used to the dark and now he could tell that Wen was in the bed too. The lump between them, curled up against Vin's chest and under his outstretched arm, mostly covered by the blankets, only her face peeking out from the sheets.
She had her back turned to Max, given she was facing Vin. The simple thought that he was in their bed was enough to send a thrill down Max's spine. Not that he hadn't been there before, but last time he had been too sick to remember any of it and by the time he woke up, both Vin and Wen had been up and about.
He stood very still, not wanting to wake either of them up, gawking at the couple. Wendy's dark hair was swept back, tousled waves exposing her heart shaped face, lips parted slightly as she snored in a low volume, which reminded Max of a cat purring. Vin's curls were half falling over his face, concealing part of it, but Max could tell it was all relaxed, not a frown between his brows. He looked younger.
Max's stomach churned, reminding him of the illness that had landed him in this bed in the first place, and he paused, shifting his attention back to himself. Not only he was sweaty and gross and his head was throbbing, but his belly was bloated and grumbling, still upset. It wasn't quite nausea, anymore, but an uncomfortable squeeze in his middle and reflux licking at his throat.
Very slowly, Max pushed himself off the bed, bracing against the bedside table to keep himself from falling over. His feet met a fluffy rug and he nearly tripped over an abandoned trashcan, sporting a clean lining, easing some of the humiliation that caused his cheeks to heat up.
His toothbrush was in his bag. His bag which was in his car. Urgh. He stumbled into the suite's bathroom, then cringed at his reflection, glad that neither Wen nor Vin were awake to see him like this. Sunken in eyes, dark circles under them, his beard all spiky, face the color of spoiled milk.
He washed his face, then swished around some mouthwash in lieu of brushing his teeth, for now, and tiptoed back to the room, shivering violently as the cold morning air clung to his sweat covered body. He needed a shower. And his cigarettes too, in order to organize his thoughts.
Max opened the bedroom door, cursing silently as it creaked slightly, freezing on the spot when Vin stirred at the noise. He hadn't experienced in first hand, but he knew from talking with Wen that Vin was an incredibly light sleeper. Instead of waking up, though, all he did was let out a groan, arm curling around Wendy a little more.
The blonde tiptoed out of the room, letting out a sigh of relief when he successfully managed without waking Vin up, and then moving around in the dark. It was really late, or early depending on perspective, and the sun wasn't up yet, the whole apartment dipped into a grey-purplish color.
Max was familiar enough with the layout to find his way. He needed to get to his car to get his bag, but he couldn't leave the apartment in just his boxers — mortification washed over him as he realized either Wen or Vin had stripped him down. After the kitchen, Wendy had a teeny tiny laundry area. There were clothes in the dryer and he figured Vince wouldn't mind, besides, he just needed to borrow them for a split second.
A minute later he was shivering, now inside of a caramel oversized sweater and wearing sweatpants that he needed to pull the strings on in order for them not to slip down his hips... And Max was trying really hard not to dwell on the fact he was wearing Vin's clothes.
Moving through the building was a whole different thing from moving around the apartment. Not only he didn't know it well enough, but it was a bit spooky. Max hurried through the garage, getting to his car and grabbing his bag, as well as his cigarette pack and then rushing back to the elevator, not wanting to be out for a minute longer than necessary.
His stomach was complaining at him for jogging like that, body all but mocking Max for thinking he could just walk off a flu. He braced against his knees before the apartment door, staring at the doormat — oval, with a stripped border and a bunch of summer fruits drawn on — until his vision stopped fading in and out.
The hunched position ushered up a sickly burp and Max snapped his mouth closed, breathing through his nose and pushing himself up to rest against the door, now standing tall. He was not gonna throw up again, specially not at their fucking doorstep.
It took a minute for the nausea to lessen enough that Max could walk back in, although he still felt weak and sick. The headache was drumming away, an invisible hand squeezing his brain.
"Are those my clothes?"
Max nearly jumped out of his skin, letting out a startled shout, heart racing. Vince was standing near the couch, eyebrows raised at Max's squeal, a smile tugging at his lips, "sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."
"Fuuuck- fuck you..." Max whined, leaning against the shoe rack by the front door and breathing in and out of his mouth. Jumping like that had immediately brought the nausea back and he felt shaky all over, knees ready to collapse. Max let go of his bag, in order to fully brace against the wall and then there were hands on his back, his face, Vin pushing back his hair.
"Are you okay? I didn't mean to frighten you like that..."
"Gotta-gotta sit down," Max clumsily grabbed Vince's arm and the other man promptly dragged him back to the couch, before disappearing into the kitchen to get him a glass of water.
His heartrate was back to normal by the time Vin got back a minute later, but still Max took the glass, obediently drinking under Vince's worried gaze. It felt amazing against his throat and how warm he felt, but his stomach churned harder at the liquid, letting out an audible whine.
"Easy," Vince gently lowered the glass away from Max's mouth, "you can drink more in a minute, Max."
"Uhm," Max nodded, pressing the half full glass to his throbbing forehead and only then getting a good look at Vince. Vin, in just his sweatpants and with his hair falling like a dark mane around his face, curls all voluminous due to sleeping on them. Max openly stared, unable to look away, blushing profusely as Vin crouched down next to him in order for their eyes to meet.
"Where the hell were you going in the middle of the night?" Vince reached in, pushing a strand of Max's hair behind his ear, "scared the shit out of me, I couldn't find you."
"Wanted to-" he burped under his breath, "Wanted to smoke," it was just part true, but now that Max said it, the desire assaulted him once more. He was dying for just one cigarette, outside in the balcony, get his thoughts straight and rid of the low level anxiety.
"Ah figlio di puttana, spero tu stia scherzando," Vince swore and Max frowned at him. He might not know a drop of Italian, but he was pretty sure he had just been cussed at.
"Kick me while I'm down, why don't you?" Max leaned back on the couch, eyes closed, planting a hand on his unsettled stomach and rubbing it slightly, "I want to take a shower, I'm all sticky."
He vaguely heard Vin moving around, "I'll help you to one in the morning, let's go back to bed," his voice was closer than Max expected, coming from behind him. Hands resting on Max's shoulders and squeezing enough to elicit a groan out of him as the stiff muscles complained, "c'mon, baby."
Vaguely, Max could remember Vince calling him baby, but he had thought it was a figment of his fever melted brain. He opened a lazy smile at the thought, but didn't move or comment on it, lest Vince take it back. Vin squeezed his nape, "don't make me drag you, it's freezing in the living room."
"You'd know, dressed like that," Max teased, turning his head in time to see Vin's face turn crimson and him cross his arms to his naked chest in a self conscious way, "no, don't cover up on my account."
Vince glared at him, "get moving, Daniels," he scoffed, gesturing to the bedroom with his head and Max let out a long suffering sigh, using the couch to push himself up.
The nausea returned, made him pause and swallow in thickly, only for Vin to wrap an arm around his back. Max slumped against him, instinctively seeking out his warmth, turning his head and hiding it against Vin's neck, breathing in and through the queasiness.
Vince smelt like lavender and cotton, hair tickling Max's nose as they were pressed so closely, turning off the hallway light as they made their way back to the bedroom and pulled apart. Wendy was still sound asleep, buried under the covers and Max circled the bed, slipping back into his spot, only for Vin to follow.
"Hold on," the other man whispered, opening the drawer next to Max and searching through it. He sat on the edge of the mattress and the blonde curled up his legs, trying not to think of how warm Wendy was, how she had shifted on the bed and now in order for him to lie down, he had to move her arm and it was currently resting against his side, her leg curling around his calf under the blankets. She was so soft.
"Here," Vince pushed the thermometer into his mouth, before Max could protest it.
"I'm'ine" Max grumbled, words muffled by the device in his mouth and Vin shrugged.
"For my peace of mind."
He let out a huff through his nose, sliding down on the bed, just so Wendy could sleepily wrap up around him. It made Max's heart race, as the brunette pressed her cheek against his bicep, and he pointedly avoided Vince's gaze. Would he be jealous? Kick Max back to the couch? Or should Max trust the nagging feeling that they were way more in sync than anyone would expect?
Wen let out a snore, louder than he expected and Max chuckled, catching Vin's eyes, amusement dancing on his face.
"She talks in her sleep too," Vin warned, taking the thermometer back and squinting at it, "you're still pretty warm...Uh, hold on, let me see what we got-" he turned slightly, continuing to go through the pill bottles and Max focused his attention back on Wendy.
Wen, pressed against him, snoring, lips slightly parted and pressed to his arm. He moved his arm, sliding it under her, since it was starting to prickle with pain at the stiff position, and all she did was obediently shuffle in order to accept him holding her.
"We have aspirin-"
"...enol..." Wendy grumbled, sleepily, not opening her eyes or moving an inch, "give him tylenol."
Max grinned at that, while Vince only shook his head in a fond way, letting out a hard breath through his nose, "okay, honey, tylenol it is..." he fished out a packet, popping out a pill and passing it to the blonde.
As soon as he took it, Vin was circling the bed once more to fall into the opposite vacant spot, tugging on the blankets slightly and turning on his side, curling up around Wendy.
Max rolled around, his chin pressing to the top of Wen's head and he forced his eyes to look at Vin in the dark room, meeting the other man's dark gaze. There were butterflies in his already unsettled stomach, his whole body seemed to be on manual mode, where he had to remember how to breathe correctly, to blink, not to move a muscle that would put him in a compromising position when Wendy was pressed so close.
"Shhh," Vin reached in, an arm over Wendy, touching Max's arm with his knuckles, up and down in a soothing manner, "I can hear you thinking, calm down."
"How are you so calm?" Max whispered, "this is anything but normal."
"I know," Vince agreed, "but it's not bad, is it?"
Bad? He would happily be sick for the rest of his days if it meant being bed with them.
When Max didn't immediately answer, Vince let out a sigh, "if you don't like this, we can stop..."
We, as if it was a decision between him and Wendy. What had Max missed during those couple of hours unconscious? He felt out of the loop and dizzy.
"I do like this," Max admitted, quietly, "I'm just confused... Lost. What are you doing?" What are we doing?
"I don't know," Vin answered, sounding very serious, "but it's nice."
It was nice. Hell, it could be nicer, all Max needed was to not be sick and get back on top of game. His heart sped up with the thrill, all fantasies he had never thought would be more than that, flooding his mind. He felt almost giddy, energized-
"Stop. Talking," Wendy scoffed, shifting in his arms and turning around with a groan, so she could press her face to Vince's chest. Max followed, as if they were tied by the hip, pressed against her back and throwing an arm around the woman, his fingertips brushing Vin's arm.
Vince moved his arm back, out of his reach, only for his fingers to intertwine with Max, hands clasped over Wendy. Max smiled at him, receiving a hand squeeze in response and a smile so bright that he could see it even in the dark.
Then exhaustion won the fight and Max went out like a lamp.
watching a political influencer you strongly dislike and disagree with get sh*t 5 feet in front of you then have to run up and try to save his life while not knowing if you’re about to get sh*t too is not a very fun time.
0 out of 10. would absolutely not recommend. i shouldn’t have even fucking been there in the first place. no thanks utah. never coming back here besties.
Max's heart nearly stopped right in his chest when the text notification came through on a Wednesday evening, a little after classes ended. He was still in school, enjoying the sunlight and watching the football practice while grading away the pop quiz he had applied earlier that month.
Occasionally a kid would come up to him, a trio of his students had sat on the row under his at the bleachers and waited patiently for the test results, clearly anxious despite being his most nerdy students.
He hadn't heard from Vince since the wedding, which by now was almost a full month away, and Max had made his peace with the fact he had severely fucked their relationship by fighting with Luke — not really, no. It kept him awake at night and had his stomach in knots at the idea of never talking with Vin again. At least Wendy hadn't cut him off, on the contrary, they were texting almost daily and not only it was enjoyable on its own, but it was the glimmer of hope for Max that everything wasn't lost.
Max: Sure, give me 10.
He tried to sound casual, but his hands were sweating and his heart racing. Suddenly grading was not important at all.
Max folded in the remaining papers, stuffing them in his bag and power walking out of the field and back to the parking lot. He felt ridiculous, giddy and embarrassed of himself even though there was no one to witness him all but losing it over one measly text.
Really, this was pathetic.
He sat inside his pickup, windows rolled up despite the warm sun out, taking measured breaths so he sounded casual and nonchalant as his phone switched into call mode and Vince's face — asleep, in his bed, that day he had been super hungover after graduation — appeared on the screen.
"Hi?"
"Oh, hi," Vince, in the other hand, didn't sound nonchalant at all. His voice was breathless and Max could hear his smile, it caused butterflies to erupt in his stomach, "how are you doing, man? Haven't heard from you in a while."
Well, actually, fuck him.
Max frowned, "uhm, because you've been avoiding me like the plague?" He said, then cringed at his own words, "is everything okay with Wendy? Is that why you're calling?"
He couldn't think of any other reason, but Max knew deep down that this wasn't it. He felt so silly, like a scorned lover.
"No, no, Wendy's fine!" Vince squealed, clearly surprised, "she's fine-" there was an awkward pause, "sorry, is this a bad time...?"
Again. Fuck him.
Not calling or answering any of his texts in a month, but acting like Max was the wrong one for feeling hurt. Although, sure, Max hadn't really reached out all that much, had he? He had assumed Vin's stance was clear, after the whole fiasco with Luke and Max drunkenly flirting with Vin and Wendy...
"Not a bad time," the blonde answered through his teeth, lowering his forehead to the steering wheel, "what's up?"
Another awkward chuckle, children giggling in the background, wind swooshing as if Vin was walking, "hold on, let me get to my bike-" more walking, "okay, uhm- When are you coming over?"
Never?
Max raised his eyebrows, beyond confused, "uh- What?"
"Can you come over Friday?"
Was he dreaming? Had him hit his head? What the fuck was going on?
Max pulled back his phone in order to glare at it for a split second, verifying it was really Vin's contact.
"Max?"
"Sorry, I'm here- What? Friday?"
"Yes," Vince was smiling, Max could tell, "my school has opened a position for a chemistry teacher and I said I knew someone... If you're interested, of course, my principal wants to meet you Friday evening..."
"You got me a job?" Max croaked, truly starting to feel like he had gone insane.
"Not really, I got you an interview..." Vin's voice faded, "is this stupid? I'm sorry, I wasn't sure if you'd want it, but it's good pay- Better than Doveport. Prestigious school. The staff is nice-" Max rolled his eyes, of course Vince thought his coworkers were nice, he was so likeable, "and- Well. I'd like if you took the job, you'd be closer to us."
Max was going to throw up. The butterflies in his stomach were doing cartwheels and he felt almost dizzy with the information, specially with the added emotional whiplash, "you want me to move to Welton...?"
He reached out for his cigarette pack, fishing one out with shaky fingers. Vin let out another sheepish chuckle, "I did tell you if it was up to me you'd come along."
Max inhaled the cigarette smoke, relishing on the numbing of the nicotine, slowing down his racing thoughts.
"You did but- It's been a month we haven't talked, Vin..."
"I know," now Vince sounded more like himself, deep voice serious, grounded, "I'm sorry. It's been hell... I'm sure Wendy updated you on the whole-"
"Yeah," Max nodded, "yeah, she did."
"So there was that," Vince sighed, "and then adapting to the new school and I guess- I miss you," small, a confession. Max's heart squeezed so much he thought he was gonna have a heart attack, "I'm sorry I didn't call you sooner."
So he clearly wasn't upset about all the flirting. Or the Lucas fight. Max rolled his eyes at himself, he had been so stupid...
"I miss you too, Monacelli, Doveport is not the same without you," Max admitted, quietly, "tell your principal I'll take the interview. Text me the details?"
"Of course," Vince sounded relieved, "when you get the job, Wen will be ecstatic."
"Yeah yeah, because she'll have unlimited access to my good looks."
A snort, "well, clearly not because of your humble and sweet personality, Daniels," Vince teased, Max could hear his smile again, "I'll see you Friday night, you'll totally get the job... Uh, wear a suit. Cover the tattoos up!"
"Alright!" Max couldn't help laughing, his whole body relaxing as he leaned back on his seat, "other than that, how you've been?"
--------
By the time Friday arrived, Max was in stitches. He had barely slept the night before, so since he had bought concealer in case his button up didn't fully cover his tattoos, he was forced to wear it to cover the dark undereye circles that appeared.
He breezed through his classes, nerves getting the best of him. Doveport had always been his home and the idea of moving was... Terrifying, really. Max knew this probably would sound childish for anyone of his age, having gone away for college or some other reason, but he had never had the opportunity or the desire to leave.
He loved his school and while he didn't love Doveport — the lack of things to do in a small town was annoying and having people watch your every move was unnerving — he didn't hate it either. He did enjoy the community they had, even if he rarely felt like he belonged in it... Until Vince had shaken everything up, of course.
It was difficult to believe there could be life elsewhere that was exciting and a prestigious school that would find him desirable and a group of friends ready to take him in...
Of course, whenever he started to get a little too dreamy at the prospect of being welcomed into their friend group — and maybe more... Wendy smiling at him like he had hung up the stars and the way that Vince's eyes seemed to linger on Max's mouth a little too frequently — Luke was there to remind him that it simply wasn't reality.
Max arrived at 5 o'clock, having left a little after lunch, switching around his afternoon classes with Mr. Turella and Ms. Swayer. The building already communicated exactly what was ahead of him, Tudor windows bouncing off the sunlight.
He walked through the large hallways, the receptionist, Ethan, guiding him, peering curiously inside the mostly empty classrooms due to the hour. A fully packed robotics lab. A small theater auditorium. Kids playing basketball in the indoor court...
Max nearly walked straight into a brick column when they passed by the library open doors and he saw Vince chatting with the librarian. He stumbled and nearly fell, recovering quickly. It had been a passing glimpse, Vin hadn't seen him, too busy being all smiles with the young woman. It wasn't possible he had gotten hotter since the wedding, was it?
The principal's office was in the third floor and Max felt strangely like he had just walked into a TV show. Ophelia Dashwood was nothing like Fernanda Castillo, the principal back in Doveport, despite Vince having said they were friends. Fernanda was a sporty brunette in her early 40s, with a big entrepreneur spirit and casual appearance. The type of woman to roll with the punches. Ophelia was a stuck-up blonde in her late 50s, with a severe face and a ballerina like demeanor.
Max felt out of place around the woman, feeling like he was fumbling it as he mentioned his credentials and how long he had been teaching in Doveport, his biggest accomplishments as a teacher...
"Mr. Monacelli spoke highly of you, Mr. Daniels," Ophelia's eyes ranked over his resumé and Max's stomach squeezed, nausea prickling his skin as he felt like he simply wasn't gonna live up to her expectation. Goddammit Vince.
"I called Mrs. Castillo and she wasn't aware of your desire to switch faculties," oh no. Oh no. She had called his boss?!
Not only he wasn't getting this job, but he was gonna be fired. Waaaay to go, Max. He gulped down, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants, biting down the angry response that was at the tip of his tongue. Meddlesome fucking woman.
"Nevertheless, she sung your praises like a canary," Mrs. Dashwood shook her head fondly, "have you had the opportunity to visit our chemistry lab?"
Max robotically shook his head. He felt clammy, heart racing and blood singing in his ears.
"Please do before you leave, I'll ask Ethan to show you," Ophelia continued. So he was dismissed? Had he screwed it or- "I take it you understand we only have the chemistry teacher position open, correct? Since you're a biology and chemistry professor, this might be a drawback."
Max licked his dry lips, shaking his head, "I understand that, Vin- Mr. Monacelli had explained it to me beforehand."
Mrs. Dashwood nodded, glancing at him and then back at his resumé, "if that doesn't bother you... I want you to get a look at our contract and benefits, hand it back to me Monday."
Uh?
He was hired? He was being hired?
Max struggled not to let his blatant surprise show, and probably failed miserably at it, "of-Of course... Thank you, Mrs. Dashwood."
"No, thank you, Mr. Daniels," she passed him an envelope with the red coat of arms of the school, standing up to shake his hand.
Ethan was waiting for him outside of the principal's office, nodding along as Ophelia instructed him to show Max the chemistry lab and the remaining premises of the school.
Frankly, Max couldn't care less. He liked to teach, he cared about students, not really about fancy equipment and high technology. When he had first started in Doveport, they didn't have any fancy equipment, if anything he had purchased most of their items himself, much to the previous principal's annoyance and Fernanda's joy when she took over.
Whatever, he had been a single man with no other usage for his salary, it wasn't like he had done any grand philanthropic act.
Max thought the woozy feeling would fade once he was no longer being scrutinized by Ophelia, but it didn't really. He felt dizzy and clammy as they walked the hallways and he had too oooh and aaaah at the fancy installations — okay, the cafeteria was pretty nice and the labs were really cool.
Once again they passed by the library, but when Max tried to steal a glance, Vince was no longer anywhere he could see him. He deflated just a little.
Only when he waved goodbye to Ethan and walked towards the parking lot, did it dawn on Max that he had gotten the job. He had gotten the job!
And Vince was leaning against Max's pickup, looking like a fucking Greek god. The blonde stopped dead in his tracks, choking on air, as his eyes landed on Vin — head bowed so he could look at his phone, untied hair, raven curls falling almost like a curtain around his face, brows pitched together as he texted, red sweater peaking out from under his biker jacket, sleeves rolled up...
Vince looked up, as if he could tell he was being watched, and the knot around Max's stomach got even tighter, as he saw Vin's frown melt away and a wrinkly smile take up his whole face, lines around his eyes and the fact his perfect white smile was slightly fangy. He was so doomed, Max thought with a shake of his head, jogging the distance between them.
As he did that, he watched Vince' smile flicker and vanish, a wrinkle appear between his brows, and an angry red blush crawl up his cheeks. Max raised his eyebrows, stopping right in front of him and letting out a chuckle, "what? What's wrong?"
Vince opened his mouth, then closed it, eyes scanning Max's face with surprise intensity, before he settled for glaring, "nothing," an awkward shrug, "so... How was it?"
Max hated that he couldn't quite pinpoint what was going through Vin's mind. Normally he was so damn easy to read, but not today, as if he was purposefully holding up his walls. Ugh.
"You have one guess," the blonde wiggled his eyebrows, trying to project excitement that he didn't feel. Not that he wasn't happy, he was overjoyed not only the accomplishment but also at the possibilities it held... But he was also confused. Queasy. Tired. Scared. Overwhelmed.
"Of fucking course you got the job!" Vince's voice was thunderous, then his arms were around Max and he let out a shout as Vin tipped his whole body back, plucking him out of the ground with a rib crushing hug and stealing the air from his lungs.
"whAT aRe yOU DoIN-" Max choked out, managing to free his arms from Vin's grip only to find that he had nowhere to put them- Then wrap them around his friend's neck and hug right back. Fuck, fuck, he pressed his eyes closed, turning his face and burying it in Vin's curls. His shampoo was floral, lavender. Maybe that was his aftershave. Max desperately wished he knew Vin so much that he could tell the difference. Wendy probably could. Hell, Wen probably could recognize his mood just from how he walked, how he hugged.
Max's thoughts drifted slightly, as he wondered about Vin and Wen. He was still up in the air — because Monacelli was a fucking giant — and his mind wandered into dangerous directions. Wendy was so tiny, wrapped up in those big arms, he wondered if they were awkward and clumsy, brisky hands and weird positions, or fit together like lock and key-
Vin planted him back down with a little more force than necessary, basically dropped Max. They both stumbled, Vin still shaking with the ghost of a chuckle, eyes all warm, hands darting out to grab Max's shirt to stop him from falling on his ass, "wow, watch out!"
Max dug his heels in the parking lot gravel, only then remembering where they were. He looked over his shoulder self consciously, it surely wasn't a good look for two teachers to be spinning and hugging like teenage girls, but the place was empty. Working hours were over, it was Friday, the parking lot was almost deserted of other cars.
"So... What now?" Max twisted his hands, cringed at how sweaty his palms were and wiped them on his jeans.
"C'mon, let's go home. We're celebrating with Wen," Vin grabbed him by the nape, hand squeezing him, then suddenly pulled Max a little too close, with all his force, "what the hell, you're burning up, dude."
Oh. Uh, that explained why he felt like his body was aflame, but he was also freezing. Max almost counted it as a win, at least it meant he hadn't completely lost his mind and he could blame how awkward he felt on the illness.
"I am?"
"Yep," Vince's hand moved, knuckles brushing over Max's prickly cheeks, fingers pushing back his hair, palm pressing to his forehead. He tsked under his breath, "sick as a dog."
"That's your formal verdict?" And then because his filter had seemingly melted away, Max added, "you can be the nurse to Wen's doctor."
"Bet you'd like that," Vince teased him, then snapped his mouth closed into a thin line, as if he had offended Max somehow and already regretted it. Max blinked at him owlishly, sluggish brain struggling to keep up with the emotional up and downs happening beyond his control.
"Did I-" his stomach choose this moment to remind Max that he was a little bitch and push up a wet burp, which he didn't even get to stifle, "Uroorph- Ew, sorry. Did I piss you off?"
Vince had taken Max by his elbow and was guiding him around the car, but he stopped moving at Max's question, eyebrows raised, "what? No, what sort of question-"
"You were icing me out," Max accused, then winced. He felt like a pouty teenager. Mark X in the square if you like me.
"Didn't we go over this already?" Vin sounded genuinely confused, opening the passenger door for Max and shoving him inside of the car. The pickup was warm, perspiration clung to Max's neck and face, the suit jacket gluing to his back, "the whole mess with Wen, the new school, the-"
"We did," Max nodded, leaning forward slightly. Vin didn't move from the doorway, so he allowed his forehead to rest on the other man's chest. This close he could feel Vince's heartbeat, or maybe it was his own, blood singing in his ears, "but you're acting so weird, I can barely keep up, Vince."
"Oh," Vince's hands, grabbing the lapels of Max's suit and pushing it back in order to strip him from it, his voice softening up, "I'm sorry. I'm not pissed, I'm just... I'm not pissed."
"How very eloquent," Max sassed back, stomach rolling so he clumsily reached forward, planting a hand on Vin's chest — Jesus fucking Christ, was he always this sturdy? — and trying to push him back, "uhm- I'd much rather not throw up in the parking lot of the school while the contract ink is still wet."
A snort, then Vince pulled back, "don't wanna let them know this will be a regular occurrence in the future with your delicate little tummy, uh?"
"Fuck off," Max groaned, turning on the seat so Vin could close the door. He leaned back, closing his eyes and taking slow breaths. Was it the fever or was the whole world buzzing? Spinning out, too much happening at once? His skin felt prickly.
"You're hyperventilating," Vince's voice startled Max and when he opened his eyes again, they were no longer in the parking lot, but back on the road. The car was moving, "you need me to pull over? No need to save face anymore."
"No," Max took a steadying breath. Yes, he was nauseous, and yes he was dizzy, but it wasn't just that, "where- Where's your bike?" A very pertinent question, Max thought sardonically.
Vin's lips quirked up, "Wen drove me in the morning, I figured I'd catch a ride with you on the way back," they stopped at a red light, so Vince's head turned to face Max. Gawking, really.
Max's cheeks inflated with another little burp and he hunched over, planting his elbows to his knees and feeling Vin watch him like a hawk. A big hand coming to rest on his sweat drenched back, the car starting to move again.
"I got a job, Vince," Max breathed out, "fuck, I got a fucking job and I didn't even tell Fernanda... I'm gonna have to break my lease. I don't even have where to live here, what the fuck am I doing... I can't just haul all my shit over here, all for you two, I can't-" he was going to be sick. Max's mouth was flooding with saliva and he let his jaw hang as another burp pushed up. A gag.
"Shhhh, you're freaking out," Vince's voice, coming from under water. Thumb and index finger rubbing little circles in Max's nape, "deep breaths."
"I have a life, I- I-" his mind started to scramble. His mother saying he was 18 and much too old to be living with her, even when Max had offered to pay half the rent. Renting a room the size of a match box next to the gas station he worked at. Moving into his little condo, crying in the couch because he was home, where no one could make him feel inadequate or like a burden, his place, his peace, "what am I doing?"
"Oookay," Vince's hand vanished from his back, the car coming to a stop. Door slamming. He was leaving?
The passenger door opened and Max all but heaved, nausea and fever and panic scrambling things up. He retched, wanting to shove Vin away as he felt his hands turning Max around, so he was hanging outside the door and could cough up an impressive stream of vomit in the gutter.
"Shit, don't- Stop," Max's chest jostled with a painful hiccup and he wrapped an arm around his stomach, his other hand darting out and squeezing Vin's jacket, "don't touch me."
"Alright," Vin stood still as a statue, his boots the only thing Max could see besides the growing puddle of vomit in the gutter. Ew, he regretted having mac n' cheese for lunch, it was so damn heavy. He cleared his throat, forced up another burp and spat a glob of some horrible goo.
"Ssssorry," Max slurred, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "gross."
"Comes with the company," Vince teased him, then said in a much softer tone, "can I touch you...?"
No. Max recoiled, but when he raised his head and caught Vin's worried eyes, he found himself saying, "sure."
Immediately Vince was cupping his cheeks, pushing back his sweaty hair, "can you breathe with me? You're making yourself sicker, Max."
Yeah, because his little anxiety fit was causing a fever and his stomach to riot, sure. Max rolled his eyes, then pouted as Vince glared at him. He let out a sigh, obeying. Stuffing his lungs with air through his nose and letting it out slowly through his mouth. A hiccup. Again, watching Vince's cheeks balloon comically as he exaggerated it. Max breathed out, then rubbed at his uneasy stomach. Breathing in. Vin tilting his head slightly back, standing tall in front of him like that... Now, why the fuck was this erotic? So many issues, he had so many issues. There was nothing sexy about puking his guts up and doing little pregnant lady exercises on the side of the road.
He chuckled at his own thoughts and Vince smiled at him, "better?"
Ah fuck, there it was. Why he was gonna nuke his whole life in Doveport, that stupid little fond smile that made Max want to crawl out of his body. Wendy did it too, bunny teeth and wrinkly nose and so much tenderness it made Max feel all raw, like an exposed wire.
If he could see these smiles every damn day, then yeah, he was gonna drop the job he adored and leave the life he had built for himself with so much sweat.
Max breathed out, nodded, chin still in Vince's hand, "better, let's go. We can't leave our girl waiting."
A/N: Nothing like a message from an anon to motivate me to finish the fic I've been dragging on. Didn't think I'd get this done until tomorrow but the words just started coming. This went in a different direction than I planned, which means that I'm not sure exactly what's next for Jeremiah and Drew. We get inside their heads but that's not always a good place to be right now. I guess I'll be as surprised as anyone.
Of course Jeremiah got sick. How could he not, given the way Noa had draped her feverish self all over him (not that he’d protested) and then practically thrown up in his lap?
He’d meant it when he’d told her he didn’t worry about catching her bug - he was a doctor; these things happened. And it wasn’t like he would have left her alone to ride the subway home with the flu.
So he knew the moment his skin got that weird, extra-sensitive tingle that fevers and vomiting were likely in his future. But it seemed to be slow to develop. So slow that he still felt fairly okay hours later when it was time to leave work, and he really didn’t want to miss a workout. He’d been going to the gym nearly every day since Drew had left - first as a distraction but now he was seeing results, feeling better, sleeping better. Getting sick would interfere with that, but then again, maybe not.
It would be irresponsible to go to the gym while contagious but Jeremiah felt well enough when he got home to pull on shorts and his running shoes and go out for a jog. The air was crisp with the hint of fall and for the first mile his body cooperated, breathing and moving more or less the way it was supposed to, if a little bit more slowly.
If his body was a little slow, his brain was working double time. He’d been able to put away his conversation with Noa while he was at work but now with his mind emptied to everything but the rhythmic step-step-step of his feet hitting pavement, the thoughts easily crept in.
She’d been blunt - telling him Drew was taking him for granted - but Jeremiah could see now that he’d needed to hear that. He was not helping either himself or Drew - or their relationship - by keeping quiet. Pretending to be the supportive boyfriend to keep the peace was enabling, just like Noa said. No wonder it was so easy for Drew to stay in Atlanta when Jeremiah hadn’t told him how much he wanted him to come home. And he needed him to come home so badly it was a physical ache in his chest. But instead he’d told Drew his father was taking advantage of him, and that had just made it worse.
Wait. Stop that, Jeremiah. This is Not your fault.
It was Noa’s voice in his head and it was so strong that he almost stopped running. But after stumbling over an uneven patch of sidewalk he kept moving forward, finally confronting what he had been avoiding like the plague. And speaking of plague . . . he was . . . still fine. He could keep running. No problem.
What he couldn’t run away from was the feeling that Drew had been treating him . . . unmindfully? inconsiderately? even poorly, maybe? And Jeremiah hadn’t said anything to him about how it was upsetting him.
How had that even happened - their relationship was stronger than this - right? Jeremiah should be able to tell his boyfriend uncomfortable truths and Drew - no matter how hard they were to hear - should trust Jeremiah enough to listen.
Noa had recognized that Jeremiah was Drew’s safe space, and now Jeremiah realized he had made himself safe enough for Drew to ignore while he chased that stupid dream of being his father’s perfect son. Jeremiah knew he’d been right when he told Noa that that wasn’t the person Drew was, not even close. And Jeremiah knew that deep down, it wasn’t what Drew wanted either. He’d lost that clarity though, and Jeremiah owed it to both of them to say so. Say it carefully and tactfully and with a dose of tough love that more than three years together would expect.
Drew would be upset at first; Jeremiah understood that. But not broken - never broken. Damaged maybe. And confused and misguided and stressed. And Jeremiah could fix it. Would fix it. And Drew would come home.
But just as Jeremiah reached his epiphany, his body hit the brakes. Foolishly, he’d let himself ignore the symptoms of the virus well after they’d clearly gotten worse - too wrapped up in his thoughts to realize that no, he actually wasn’t that okay.
Jeremiah was a doctor; he should have known better. He should have run in a loop so he stayed close to home, and stopped for good well before he was at his limit. He should have paid attention to the way he was shivering and how his feet started to feel like they were encased in concrete and his stomach was sour from the water he’d been drinking. Instead he’d let himself run to the river and then along it, a straight path that took him nearly three miles from his and Drew’s house before he’d realized the mistake he’d made.
And now he had to walk back.
Some sort of virus-induced self-righteous pride took hold and prevented him from calling an Uber. Not for 2.78 miles. But then that same emotion - flushed with fever - took hold of his thoughts about his relationship and turned them darker. From confidence that he could fix things between him and Drew, worry crept in. Because the truth was, Drew may not want to fix things. Hell, Drew may not even think anything was wrong. Or maybe he thought this was only Jeremiah’s fault - making accusations about Drew’s father and not being the supportive boyfriend he was supposed to be.
Jeremiah’s mouth felt bitter and he stopped to spit onto the street. Now that he wasn’t running he was freezing - the wind pushing at him from every direction and drying the sweat on his skin. Drew would have yelled at him for not taking care of himself.
Or maybe not. Because Drew wasn’t thinking about what Jeremiah needed, was he? Jus’ his father. Takin’ care of his father was too ‘mportant.
Even though he was only walking and not running anymore, Jeremiah was still breathing heavily, gulping down air that made his stomach feel like a balloon. Could he burp? No it wasn’t happening even though he needed to. And his head weighed a million pounds so when he tried to spit he instead he mostly drooled down his chin, the saliva getting caught in the neckline of his shirt. He wiped it away with an impatient swipe of his hand. And now he was angry, stuck out here on the street feeling like shit instead of warm and cared for at home. What had Noa said? That Drew was taking . . . taking . . . something. Advantage? Yeah. Drew was taking advantage of him. Thas’ not what boyfriends did. An’ he should’a been in Boston so Jeremiah could call him to come pick him up. He’d’ve come right away. In the old times. Before.
But instead Drew was in Atlanta. Taking care of his dad so he couldn’t take care of Jeremiah. That was wrong. Noa said so. And Jeremiah had to tell Drew . . . something. His head pounded, trying to think. Every step made it hurt more. His head and his stomach and . . . his heart.
That was wrong. Jeremiah felt wrong, but Drew was wrong. About everything. And Jeremiah had to tell him.
But first he had to lie down.
*******
Drew carefully closed the door to his parents’ guest room behind him before sitting on the bed. He considered locking it, but truly, it wasn’t like anyone was going to barge in on him there. The room still had a sterile feel to it even though Drew had been sleeping there for a week, ever since he’d moved out of his childhood bedroom so his mother could finish turning it into his nephew’s nursery.
“You can sing as much as you want - you know, your kind of music,” his mother had explained as she watched him drag his suitcases down the hall to the other wing of the house. “And you won’t have to edit yourself around Trey.”
Drew hadn’t bothered to point out that humming Defying Gravity under his breath wasn’t likely to bother the baby. He was too busy trying to find a clean collared shirt so he could drive his father back to the club to walk the golf course. Of course it would be easier for his rehab to use the treadmill at the house, but in the past weeks as his condition had improved, Dean Thorton had been eager to get out as much as possible. So Drew had to be ready at all times.
But now his father was back home for the night, eating the broiled chicken and baked potato and broccoli Drew had made. And sure, the man had grumbled a little bit about when could he have steak, this food is boring, but that was to be expected. It was a process, getting used to this new lifestyle, that was all. Drew would hold firm, even when his father suggested that it would be okay to cheat, once in a while. He wasn’t mad at Drew for saying no, not really. Not enough to expect Drew to change his mind, right?
Jeremiah would back him up. Agree that the first weeks after a heart attack were the most critical for changing bad habits to good. Reassure Drew he was doing everything right. That of course his father still trusted Drew, and would come around. Hell, Jeremiah could even talk to Dean himself - cardiologist to patient, almost. Reiterate what a good job his son was doing.
It was with those thoughts in his head that Drew connected to FaceTime, eager to see his boyfriend and get his advice. When the call finally connected he grinned and started talking before Jeremiah even came into view on the screen.
“Hi love, you’re not going to believe this, but my dad is still going on about wanting to go out for bar-b-que, I mean, really?” He chuckled to himself and arranged the phone on the pillow next to him. With any luck, Jeremiah would be getting ready for bed too, and they could engage in some long distance cuddling after they talked. Or more . . .
Instead, the screen showed a piece of the rustic Italian tile that framed their walk-in shower and something that looked like it might be Jeremiah’s thumb. Drew frowned.
“Jer?” he asked, and then called out louder when the finger twitched but nothing else happened. “Did you fall? Already his mind was racing, trying to remember which of their neighbors would be home now, and had a key. It would take too long for Rory to get to Cambridge; should he call 911?
But then Jeremiah groaned and the phone flipped to reveal his face. He was leaning against the wall next to the toilet, legs splayed out in front of him. There was sweat beading on his forehead and across the bridge of his nose and he was in running clothes. Drew’s breath eased.
“Overdo the workout?” he teased. “I thought you were in better shape than that.” He snuggled into the bed and waited for his boyfriend to snark back. Something flirty maybe, and he’d treat Drew to a show while he stripped off his sweaty clothes. Drew’s own hand slid beneath the blanket.
“Umm.” Jeremiah still sounded out of breath. “No.” The phone screen suddenly dipped to show the floor and there was the sound of shuffling. When it turned back to Jeremiah he’d scooted closer to the toilet and was slumped against it, resting his head on the closed lid. “‘M sick.” He blew out a shaky breath and winced as if even the effort of speaking hurt.
Drew was stunned. “Oh sweetheart,” he finally managed. “What happened?” Now that he looked closer, he could tell that his boyfriend's cheeks were flushed, not pink from exertion. And his eyes were glassy and rimmed with bruise-like circles. They’d talked just yesterday, hadn’t they? No, actually they’d only texted, Drew remembered. Jeremiah had picked up an extra shift at the hospital and hadn’t had time to give more than a thumbs up and heart emoji to the photos Drew sent of Trey eating ice cream. Had he been feeling sick then? And why was he in running clothes?
Even over FaceTime Drew could tell Jeremiah was shivering. “Have you taken anything for your fever?” he tutted. “The extra-strength Tylenol should help.”
“I know that.” Jeremiah said petulantly. “I’m a doctor, remember?” The phone shook wildly for a moment and then stilled again, this time facing Jeremiah’s mouth, tightened in something that looked like disapproval. “And I’m not taking meds because I’m nauseated.” He swallowed hard and then forced up a couple of small burps before laying his head back on the toilet.
Drew flinched at his boyfriend’s tone, but brushed it off to the man not feeling well. Jeremiah was usually an unusually good natured patient, and it bothered Drew that he couldn’t be there to gauge how sick he actually was. “I’m sorry I’m not there, sweetheart,” he soothed. “But my father doesn’t need . . . I mean, I don’t have anywhere to be for my dad tonight so I can sit with you.” It was meant to be reassuring, and Drew was surprised when Jeremiah scowled. For a half second he thought Jeremiah
“Yeah well, it’s not . . . not the same, is it?” he rasped, body jerking with a wetter burp. “You should be here. Or at least . . .-” Jeremiah gulped harshly and shakily lifted the lid of the toilet. Drew felt a weird sense of foreboding as he watched him stare into the water, jaw trembling. When he spoke again his voice was thick with nausea but the meaning was clear. “. . . you should at least . . . want to be here.”
The phone dropped then, and Drew had to sit, frozen in shock and staring at the ceiling of their bathroom while he listened to Jeremiah retch and then vomit. To his trained ear it didn’t sound like he was bringing a lot up and he wondered again just how long Jeremiah had been feeling sick.
The first round seemed to be over; now there were sounds of spitting and panting, interrupted with little wet burps that meant Jer was still queasy. He didn’t pick up the phone again, or even say anything to reassure he was fine, and Drew felt a sudden surge of anger as his brain finally clocked what Jeremiah had said right before he threw up.
What the fuck did that mean, that Drew should want to be there? What kind of comment was that, when he absolutely knew why Drew wasn’t?
“Oh I get it,” he said, even though he really didn’t. “You still think my dad’s using me, don’t you?” Any thought that they’d moved past that comment from weeks ago evaporated. “Real nice, Jer,” he muttered, not trying to keep the sarcasm out of his tone. “Because the stomach flu is exactly the same as a heart attack, so I should just rush home, is that what you mean?” Dimly, Drew understood that maybe he wasn’t being entirely fair. Jeremiah was sick, and he didn’t even know about the fight - no, it was just a disagreement - Drew had had with his father about his diet. He’d been counting on Jeremiah to be on his side and now he felt unbalanced.
“This isn’t about your father.” The phone was back on Jeremiah’s face; he was white as a sheet and his voice was wrecked. “You should know that . . . Drew.” Jeremiah turned his head to gag softly off to the side.
Drew’s heart clenched; the man looked terrible and obviously felt worse. Expecting him to have any sort of conversation right now was out of the question. But Drew’s brain obviously hadn’t gotten the message.
“Then what’s it about exactly?” Frustration overrode emotion, mixed with something Drew didn’t want to admit felt a little like guilt. And it made him incautious. “Please, Jeremiah, tell me exactly what I did wrong, coming to Atlanta to take care of my sick father. Because right now it sounds a lot like you think it was a mistake.”
If he’d expected more argument, he was wrong; Jeremiah wasn’t even listening. Instead, he’d dropped his head back into the toilet bowl and was heaving, loudly. Drew cringed, hearing his struggle. Finally Jeremiah burped and there was the sound of liquid hitting water. And then more panting.
Drew reached out towards the phone screen as if he could somehow reach through to Boston. “You okay?” he asked hesitantly. “Sounds like you’re empty, babe.”
“I’m fine.” Jeremiah’s answer was terse. “I’ll take that Tylenol now. And then I’m going to bed.” The FaceTime cut off abruptly.
Drew stared at it for too long, waiting for it to reconnect, for Jeremiah to apologize for dropping the call. For him to say a real goodnight.
Finally a text popped up and Drew eagerly grabbed up the phone.
DadThorton: Can you pick up my meds from CVS? I’m out of my lisinopril
Drew didn’t bother pointing out that Dean had been cleared to drive ten days ago. Not with football season starting tonight. His father didn’t care that much about either the Cowboys or the Eagles but that didn’t matter. Drew sent back the expected answer.
DrewT: Sure dad, just need to get dressed
He kept his phone with him on the drive to the pharmacy and back home, and then put it next to his nightstand when he went to bed - sound turned up high. But Jeremiah never called.
TW: mention of Leo's almost suicide attempt. Not graphic.
---------
"Oh c'mon!" Chris said, his voice grating on Wendy's ears and causing her to cringe, "so now we all have to overwork ourselves because Banks got quote unquote stuck in fucking Thailand? Wow, real professionalism."
"If you think we're going to overworking ourselves by splitting Jonah's ours between 15 doctors, then maybe you just don't like working, Henderson," Wendy answered, not bothering to raise her voice, but knowing that her colleagues — and Christopher — had heard, given the snorts that followed.
"Dr. Henderson, you're welcome to not cover Dr. Banks' hours," the hospital director, Lois Dawson, said, clasping her hands in a sweet manner, "although I'm sure your coworkers will remember your consideration in the future, if you choose to help. Dr. Banks isn't stuck in Thailand, as you put, but facing a family emergency and he requested his time out through official manners, so we've done all the necessary checking."
Wendy's stomach clenched at those words. She had no idea about any fucking family emergency.
Still half paying attention as Chris moped and grumbled he'd help, now shamed into it, Wen fished out her phone from her purse and clicked on Jon's contact.
Wen: What family emergency is this??
Wen: Are you ok?
She hesitated, chewing on her lip. Of course she had sensed something was off when Jonah didn't text her about the breakfast basket she had asked to be delivered to his doorstep the day they were supposed to arrive. And of course she had even mentioned it to Vin, who then mentioned Luke had said something about a cancelled flight... And easy like that it had all but slipped Wen's mind, since the hospital had been demanding her attention.
Until now.
Wen: CALL ME.
She then clicked out of Jonah's conversation, finger hoovering over Bella's contact — whatever Luke knew, Bell surely would know too — before deciding against it and clicking on Lucas' picture.
An annoying ache was blossoming right behind her eye as she considered what to type. Yes, she was jealous that Luke knew whatever was happening but she didn't. Yes, she was pissed off he didn't think it was important enough to tell her, even though she had been Jonah's fucking maid of honor... But then again, if it was a family emergency, did she really want to blow this out of proportion?
She wanted to see Jon, and Leo, to make sure they were ok... Her phone buzzed with a text notification.
Jon: Call you in two hours?
Wendy pouted, nodding even though he couldn't see her.
Wen: Don't forget.
She looked up, sighing and crossing her arms, almost mimicking Chris childish posture, as the director moved on their staff meeting into other subjects.
By the time the two hours had passed, Wendy was sweaty and hungry, having spent them down at the ER. There was a text from Vince asking her what she had for lunch, sending a picture of his own and saying that he missed her — his little inconspicuous way of checking if she was skipping meals.
Wendy walked outside of the doctor's quarters, to the back of the hospital, the smoker area. She snapped a picture of her sandwich and received an answer less than a minute later.
Vin 💕: just that? 😵💫 get some real food, doc
She huffed, finding a little stone bench and sitting down, rubbing her temples. Her stomach was a little sour thanks to exhaustion and all the running around, headache steadily drumming behind her eyes.
Wen: Not hungry
Vin 💕: 🧐🤨
Wendy snorted.
Wen: Not like that, just have a headache.
Before she could type much else, her screen changed into call mode and Wendy scrambled to pick it up.
"HI!" She said, brightly, cringing at her own tone. If it was a family emergency, certainly Jonah didn't need her sounding all bubbly.
"Hi Dee," true to her prediction, Jon sounded exhausted. Her heart squeezed, thinking back on the last time she had heard his voice and how happy he had sounded, back when he was boarding for the layover in London.
"Jon," Wendy sobered up immediately, "sweetheart, what happened?"
If she expected an answer, she got none. Just a long, heavy silence, followed by Jonah's ragged breathing — he was trying not to cry, Wendy realized, panic spiking her blood pressure and causing the drumming on her temple to grow worse.
She chewed on the inside of her cheek, fighting the urge to ask again, patiently waiting as she heard him sniffle and clear his throat.
"Leo ran out of his medication," Jonah's voice was incredibly hoarse, barely audible, "and withdrawal kicked in and- And it was bad."
Wendy blinked several times, trying to situate herself. She expected to hear something regarding Jackie or maybe Jasper or Matteo... Not this.
"Bad...?" Wendy's voice split and she gulped down, steadying herself, "Jon?"
"He- He tried-" Jonah cut himself short, clearing his throat. Another long stretch of silence, "Leo's in inpatient hospitalization right now, until the shrink says he's no longer a threat to himself... I just got back."
Wendy's eyes burned and she pulled the phone slightly away from her face as she breathed out of her mouth, whole world seeming to vanish from under her feet. Fuck. A threat to himself, she knew exactly what those words meant.
"When- How-" She spluttered, trying to ask more and simultaneously avoiding doing that because the last thing she wanted was for Jon to be in even more pain than he already was. There was a sigh.
"Saturday night," Jonah sounded devastated, but slightly more steady now that there were actual questions he could answer, "I got to see him Sunday evening, he's better," his voice squeezed, "I think he might be out by Wednesday..."
"Do you want me to go over?" Wendy asked, heart racing in her chest. Jon was an ocean away and all alone, "just say the word, I'll figure it out with the hospital and I'll be there."
"No," she heard a muffled sound, like him falling onto the bed, "no. I- I just want him back, Dee..."
He sounded so damn small and nothing like himself. Wendy angrily wiped away the tears blurring her sight, "I know, darling, I'm so sorry... I'm sorry."
More sniffles followed, Jonah taking ragged breaths, "...I know..." he seemed to be moving around, "I just- I wish I could stop it. Help. Take it from him..."
The nagging pain that had been behind Wendy's eye went up a notch as she related a little too much to Leo's situation and silently thanked the universe that her best friend didn't know what had happened to herp after his wedding day. It was a little too much, when he was already hurting.
"You said he's better... Did Leo talk with you? Or the therapist?" she picked at her nails, starting to remove her french tips.
"I talked with Leo," Jonah answered, "he's... He's better. Apologetic and terrified by what happened. I can tell he's super guilty-"
"It wasn't his fault, darling," Wendy said, before she could control herself and heard a little huff.
"I know... I know and I believe his reasoning, when he said he thought he'd be fine on the way back... I'm not angry," Jonah let out a little watery chuckle, "I think it would be easier if I could get even a little bit angry, then it wouldn't be so scared."
Wendy gulped down, wanting to curl up on herself as Jonah continued to speak, "I feel like I have separation anxiety, every time he's out of my sight, I can't- I keep coming back to that night..."
"Jon," Wendy sighed, "sweetheart, you're traumatized... Anyone would be..."
Not for the first time since her relapse, Wendy thought of her parents. They had their differences — more differences than anything — but to this day Wendy knew they hadn't quite recovered from finding her on the bathroom floor that night, a decade before.
"Well, I can't afford to be traumatized right now, my husband needs me," Jonah scoffed, sniffling angrily and it made Wendy let out a surprised chuckle.
"Very sensible," she teased, leaning back against the seat and closing her eyes when the sun shining down on her caused her head to throb even more, "I'll get you a referral to a therapist, Jon."
"I don't need-"
"I'm not asking," Wendy cut him off, "you want to help Leo, then you're going to take care of yourself so your husband can focus on feeling better and not worrying you're going to fall apart," maybe it was just a tad manipulative to phrase it like that, but it worked like a charm.
Jonah let out a sigh, "alright, I guess..." he yawned, "have you spoken with Luke?"
"Nope," Wendy barely refrained herself from adding but you clearly have. She shouldn't have bothered, because of Jonah's next words.
"I called him- The night Leo- I didn't know what to do, Luke's my emergency contact-"
"You don't need to justify yourself, darling-"
"No, I'm not," Jonah said quickly, "it's just... I'm sorry for not telling you earlier. I hate that you learned it through the hospital, Wen."
Wendy shrugged, before realizing he couldn't see her, "I think you've earned a get out of jail card, Jon. Don't worry about it," her pager went off, signaling that she'd have to cut her "lunch" break short, "I gotta go, Jon... Take care of yourself, okay? And don't worry about the hospital, we got it handled... Tell Leo I love him, and for him to feel better soon so you guys can come back. I miss you both- Don't tell him that part."
Jonah chuckled, "I love you too, darling," and then quickly hung up.
The rest of her day was chaotic and Wendy didn't mind it at all. At least messy meant she didn't have any time to reminisce on what Jon had told her, even if Leo was in the back of her mind for the rest of her work shift.
By the time her hours ended, Wendy was dead on her feet. She all but stumbled to the doctor's quarters, hoping to catch a fifteen minute shut eye so she could drive back home, when the migraine hit like a freight train.
A tingling on the back of her neck, stiffening it up, and colorful circles appearing around lamps, her stomach churning as the unsettledness dawned on her. It wasn't pain, not more than the steady headache she had sported all evening, but it was weird, like her body giving off alarms that something was very wrong.
Wendy braced against the couch of the doctor's quarters, taking slow breaths in order to gather up strength to make it to the bunker room. Her mouth felt off, cottony and like her tongue was way too big.
"Oh- woAH!" Claire squealed, jumping back just as she stepped out of the bedroom area, rubbing her eyes, "you look like a zombie, Wendy."
"Uhmmm," Wendy groaned, pressing the heel of her hand against her left eye socket, pressing in so much she could see stars, "migraine..."
"Oh, yikes," Claire cringed, stepping aside, "you need anything? Are you still on the clock?"
"Nu-uh," Wendy took an unsteady step forward, "uhm- trashcan?"
"Alright, let me-" Claire stepped around her, putting a hand on Wendy's back and guiding her inside the dark bedroom area. There was someone lying on the bottom bed of the left bunker, so Wendy collapsed on the bottom bed of the right, curling up and burying her face into the pillow.
Now that she was lying down, the weird pressure around her head diminished considerably, but her stomach sloshed all the more. She gulped down, jerking with a small gag-
"Here," Claire planted a trashcan on the floor, next to her head, "if you're not better in an hour I'm- I don't know, getting a nurse here or calling Vince."
Shit, Vin. She hadn't even answered him after talking with Jonah and now she was going to be late for dinner, without warning him... Either he'd be pissed or worried, both equally bad options.
"Uhhhm," Wendy whined, patting the pocket of her scrubs until she found her phone and shoving it in Claire's general direction, "call- UrArk-" just moving her arm had been too much and Wendy lurched over the edge of the bed in order to cough up a meager stream of bitter, coffee vomit into the bin.
Her ears were rushing at the weird position, her body half out of the mattress, one hand planted on the ground to keep her torso from meeting the trashcan.
"What-" a different voice, not Claire's, said, sounding confused, "what'spennin'-"
Wendy went deaf as she heaved once more, louder than before, but bringing up less. A small burp rolled up, acidic vomit stinging her nose. The drumming that had receded when she lied down, came back with vengeance.
Wendy hitched with another gag, the drilling starting to make her eyes leak with tears and she tried to grab at her hair, only to loose her balance and almost collapse out of the bed, wasn't it for Claire grabbing her shoulder.
Claire had bedside manners from hell, good thing she was a doctor and not a nurse. The thought caused Wendy to giggle, deliriously, as she felt like hot iron was stabbing her brain. Someone with a fork poking her temples repeatedly-
"Oh great, she's gonna infect all of us," Chris exclaimed, "not satisfied with bullying us into getting more work hours, Marshall needs to pass the stomach flu through the whole staff because she cannot be bothered to wear a mask-"
"Oh my god, Christopher, SHUT UP!" Claire snapped at him, so loud that Wendy whimpered and curled up, the sound physically hurting her. She was so folded into herself, if Wendy wanted she could press her forehead to her knees- "No one cares if you work extra or not, we all already know you're a jerk, so don't bother! See, solved your fucking problem-"
"Oh fuck you, Claire," Chris answered, just as loudly, "you know damn well Banks is not having a family emergency, he's getting laid in the Bahamas. How convenient he needed to use his PTO right after honeymoon ended, uh?"
"Who cares!"
"I care! Lisa is going on maternity leave Wednesday and Marshall is spreading the fucking flu to us so we'll all be dropping like flies-"
"We are doctors, Chris! You got puked on this evening, you hypocrite."
"It's not the same, my patient didn't come to the place I sleep to hurl on my bed, did he?"
"She's not puking on your bed either, you self centered diva, she's just-"
"Wendy?"
The yelling ceased, making Wendy stop crying — she hadn't realized she started. — There was a heavy silence, broken by Chris saying in a disbelieving voice, "who let you in here? You can't be here, it's private for doctor use-"
"Oh honey," Vince's voice was unbothered, smooth like velvet and easily drowning out Chris'. Wendy whimpered as she felt her boyfriend's gentle hands gather back the hair strands that had escaped from her dutch braids, "shhh- I got you..."
"How about you take her home?"
Wendy's stomach clenched once more and she groaned, leaning to the side and not even bothering to aim at the trashcan, since she had no idea where she had put it down and there was a black spot in the middle of her vision.
Vince was speaking with Claire and Chris, never raising his voice, but she could tell he was angry. Wendy whimpered, blindly reaching out so she could find him — hand meeting his belt — and squeezing, "wan'to- home."
"I know, I know," Vince whispered, unhooking her fingers from his belt and crouching down next to her. Wendy blinked, his face appearing in front of hers in the barely lit room, solely illuminated by the white light bleeding from the living room area of the headquarters.
Vince had a deep crease between his brows and his lips were pressed into a thin line, which made him look a little scary.
"I'm scary?" Vince's lips quirked up and Wendy frowned, she hadn't realized she had said that out loud. He flicked a hair out of her eyes, hand cupping her cheek, "can you sit up, honey?"
"Can't even fucking sleep-" Chris grumbled from behind Vince, grabbing the pillow from the bed and stomping away. Wendy opened an exhausted smile at that, following him with her eyes and then landing back on Claire, who was leaning against the doorway and looking conflicted.
"You got her?" Claire asked, clearly ready to bolt too. Vince nodded, without looking back.
"Yeah, thank you," he stroked her cheek and Wendy all but melted under his touch.
"How- How'd you know...?" She let her eyes slip shut, clinging to Vin's forearm as he slowly pulled her into a sitting up position. The room swam around her, causing her to jolt with a sickly burp and bury her face against Vin's palm, still on her cheek.
"You mentioned you had a headache, remember?" Vin whispered, then she heard him move the bin, "I figured when you didn't pick up my calls..."
Time passed in such a weird way when she had a migraine. Wendy could swear she had only lied down in the room 30 minutes before...
Vin pressed a kiss to her brow, "are you still nauseous? Can we go down to the car?"
"Still- Still queasy," Wendy admitted, her cheeks burning, "but I wanna go home..."
"That's okay," Vince slowly pulled her up, the arm around her back holding almost all of Wendy's weight. She clung to his shirt, pressing her face to his side and whining as they stepped into the bright light.
"Close your eyes, honey," Vin instructed, then didn't wait for an answer before planting a hand over her eyes and shielding her from all light, "c'mon, we're almost there-"
The ding from an elevator arriving... The world tilting nauseously as they stepped inside, motion sickness kicking in... The stuffy parking lot air and her car unlocking-
"Watch your head," Vince moved his hand to the top of her head, maneuvering her into the passenger seat, "do you need to breathe? Can we go?"
"Leess'just go," Wendy slurred, turning on the seat when he shut the door, so she could face the driver's side. Vin circled the car, then fiddled with her seat and rearview mirror before starting up the engine.
Wendy's shoulders dropped and she reached in, so she could wrap a hand around his bicep, clutching him like a safety blanket. Vin looked away from the road for a split second, smiling at her and taking one hand off the steering wheel, so he could brush Wendy's hair back, "close your eyes, Wen," he instructed, "get some rest."
Jonah knew he had been manic, nearly downright hysterical as the wedding approached. Between the spooked staff, Leo's endless amusement and his friend and family's annoyance at his state, it was impossible to miss.
So it was much to his surprise that he woke up on the morning of the wedding and realized that he wasn't nervous at all.
Leo was still asleep, snoring softly, and Jonah stared at his face, — arms sandwiching his pillow and his chin resting on his forearm — openly staring as the sunlight streamed inside their suite and bounced off Leo's hair, reflected off his dark blonde lashes.
His cheeks were prickly with the start of a beard and he twitched slightly as Jon ran his thumb over his jaw, tracing the contour of it and his cheekbones.
The sun was too high to be early morning, it must've been at least 9 AM, so he better wake Leo up, as they had a long day ahead of them. He rolled on the bed, scooting as close as possible, and pressed a kiss to his boyfriend's naked shoulder, hand wrapping around his wrist, "Leo? Wake up, baby."
Another twitch, Leo's brows met, but he didn't wake up. Jonah shook him just a little, keeping his lips pressed to Leo's overheated skin, "wake up, Mr. Wagner-Banks."
"You can't use that name yet," Leo grumbled, his voice a whole note deeper, eyes still closed, but lips quirking up in a smile, "I heard you're getting married today?"
"I am," Jonah smiled right back, flicking a hair strand away from Leo's eyes as they opened, the blonde blinking several times to get used to how bright the room was, "can you believe some fool agreed to marry me?"
"Some lucky fool," Leo grinned, closing the space between them with a kiss and rolling them on the bed so he could be on top, pushing Jonah against the pillows, "some incredibly lucky fool."
In the end, they were so late for breakfast that the group sent up Wendy, her voice traveling through the door as she knocked and said, "get your asses out here, the photographers are already in the yard!"
----
"Do you have everything?" Leo asked, for the third time, and Vince let out a scoff, meeting Luke's amused glare.
Luke rolled his eyes, leaning back on the chair as he got his makeup done, because although the bruise on his cheek was mostly gone, that wasn't enough for Jonah and he had insisted he wore concealer.
"We have everything, kiddo," Vince moved so he was next to Leo by the window, squeezing his nape in an almost parental manner, "cufflinks are here, brooch too, your suit jacket is hanging behind the door, mints- Hair spray... Oh."
Luke raised an eyebrow, trying to see what had interrupted Vince's listing, but the makeup artist glared at him, "just a second, I'm putting some setting spray on you."
"Alright," he couldn't nod or really move, so all Luke could do was raise his thumbs up as he was sprayed with a fine mist of something that smelt like perfume and cucumbers.
The woman patted his chest, "wait a couple seconds for it to dry and you're all good," she promised, starting to gather up her supplies. She hadn't done much to Leo — probably due to the blonde's sulking — only filled in his brows, applied some skin serums that Luke had no idea what they were and made his cheeks pinker than normal, some pink chapstick despite Leo grumbling about putting on lipstick like a middle aged conservative would.
They weren't alone in the room. There was a team of photographers that came and went at least three times, taking pictures of them as they chatted and had lunch — separated from everyone else, because Jonah apparently was traditional like that —, hanging in the shadows as they got dressed and snapping pictures quietly.
Luke hadn't been in an editorial in so long, it immediately made his mind go back to his teenage years. Every special occasion, the photographers in their house, the same type that didn't ask for specific poses but always seemed to manage to get the few and sparse smiles between them.
Now the smiles weren't fake, they were abundant, and he was more than happy to have this on camera to look back on later.
"What is it?" Luke got up from his chair, redoing the buttons of his shirt as he walked to where Vince and Leo were looking out of the window, entertained like cats.
"They finished the decor," Vince explained, pointing outside. Part of it had been done during the rehearsal dinner, but last Lucas had looked out of the window during lunch it still hadn't been finalized. Now it was.
There were hundreds of white orchids, mixed in with white and blue hydrangeas and baby's breaths just about everywhere. They had created a path with a pristine white carpet that went from the top of the hill, all the way to the greek pavillion at the end of it, with the lake behind it. On either side of the carpet, sleek silver torches were planted, barely appearing between the structures with orchids wrapping around them and the hydrangeas on the floor. At each side, the white rounded chairs, slowly starting to fill up.
"I- I- God, I have to-" Leo stuttered and Lucas planted a hand in the middle of his back, rubbing up and down in a reassuring manner. Leo took a steadying breath, "I have to go out there before it's too crowded, I'm-" he'd be standing at the end of the altar, as they had already rehearsed in the previous night, "you know."
"We know," Vince moved in the room, so he could grab Leo's tux jacket and Luke got moving as well, grabbing the cufflinks and the delicate flower brooch that was meant to be sitting on the dusty blue lapel of his suit.
"Breathe, Leo," Vince instructed, easily guiding their friends' arms into the armholes of his jacket, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle away from the ironed fabric, "deep breaths, okay? You're alright."
"I'm- I think-" Leo shook his head, cheeks puffing out comically as he tried to take in a breath, "I think I'm gonna throw up..."
Luke raised his eyebrows, finishing up closing the cufflinks on his wrist and meeting Vince's eye.
"Uh... For real...?"
"Yeah-" Leo pressed a fist to his mouth, leaned forward and grabbed Vin's shoulder to steady himself, just as Luke immediately got moving.
He rushed to the suite's bathroom, grabbing the wastebasket, and then ran back to the room.
Vince had maneuvered Leo sitting down on the bed, removed his jacket once more and spread his legs apart so there would be no risk of him being sick on the suit. He was fanning the blonde with a magazine and the photographers had lowered their cameras and were queuing out of the door.
"Here," Luke pushed the basket into Leo's chest and caused him to gag with the sudden movement. He cringed in sympathy, he had expected this behavior from Jon, not Leo, "dude, take a deep breath, you're freaking out."
"It's so many-" Leo spat inside the bin, opening and closing the hand that wasn't clutching the basket, still trying to take a breath, "so many people."
"So many people who love you," Vince cooed, his voice incredibly soft, like he was talking with his baby sister, "Leo, hey, look at me-" he gestured for the blonde to meet his eyes and Leo shook his head.
"I don't feel well-"
"You're not gonna be sick," Vince rolled his eyes in a frustrated manner, "look at me."
Brave, Luke thought, as he wasn't so sure Leo wasn't about to throw up. He looked pasty enough to.
Vince was a man of faith, though, so he forced Leo's eyes to meet his, lowering the bin away, "these are all people who love you, you understand that, Leo?" he said, very slowly, "everyone is here to celebrate you-"
"I don't know all of them," Leo wrinkled his nose, chest jostling as he hiccupped and hurriedly pressed the back of his hand to his lips. Luke grabbed the ditched bin, just in case, but Vin seemed unbothered.
"The ones you don't, Jon does, and you're an unit now, are you not? These are people who want both of you to be so happy, you have nothing to be nervous about," Vince grabbed the ditched suit jacket, gesturing for Luke to help him, "there you go-" he gave Leo a sturdy shake, "you got this."
Leo nodded, timidly, the tip of his nose suddenly pink and color returning to his cheeks as he threw his arms around Vince's neck and tugged him into a hug.
Luke snorted as Vince melted immediately, hugging the blonde right back. He rolled his eyes in a fond way, gesturing quietly to Leo, "you got this?" he mouthed, without making a sound and Vin raised a thumbs up behind the blonde's back, hugging him even tighter.
"I gotta go give Jonah the rings," Lucas said, getting up and planting a kiss to the top of Leo's head, causing him to sniffle, "I'll see you on the altar, kid."
Leo let out a little watery chuckle, "I'll see you on the altar."
Jonah's suite was on the opposite side of the hallway, just far away enough they wouldn't glimpse at each other as the crew walked in and out of both rooms.
Lucas knocked, then heard a giggle and Angie's voice "Come in!"
Angelina was entirely glammed up and for a second Luke forgot how to breathe as he saw her. Their relationship existed in a weird limbo between friends and siblings, as he had been home more often than Jonah had in the past years and seen her more often than he had.
Her hair was up in a complicated knot, adorned with pearls, and she was wearing a silver dress, fabric pooling at her cleavage like a roman goddess statute, long legs peaking from the slit that went just above her knee.
"How do I look?" she did a little twirl and Lucas opened a bright smile, a memory flashing in front of his eyes. Angie, seven years old, back when he was fifteen. Sitting outside of his gate with her scraped knee and fallen bicycle, bottom lip sticking out as she valiantly tried not to cry. Pink helmet decorated with glittery butterflies and her mumbling she had been wanting to learn so she could show Jonah when he came home from the boarding school.
"You look amazing," Luke choked out and she let out a giggle, whole face lighting up as she looked over her shoulder.
"Jon, Luke's already crying."
"I told you he would," Jonah sounded all smug. He was sitting down, relaxed and nursing a glass of juice, Wendy sitting right next to him and clinking her glass with his in an amused way.
"Oh shut up," Luke grumbled, squeezing his eyes and blinking away the sudden burning there, "Leo's going down already, we should start getting on our marks."
"Vince is with him?" Wendy asked, standing up and planting her glass on the tray. She was also a sight to be beholden and Luke gave her an open once over, causing her cheeks to heat up and her to roll her eyes at him, "don't give me those eyes, Atwood."
Luke snorted, hugging her with one arm and planting a kiss to the top of her head, then saying in a low voice, "give me a minute with him?"
He was glad it was Wendy, who didn't ask questions and was clever enough to catch the shift of things in the air. She nodded, fixing the buttons of his shirt, "we're gonna be waiting for you downstairs."
Both women hugged Jonah, then they were out of the room and Jon let out a sigh, rolling his shoulders and glancing out of the window of his room. Luke followed his gaze, smiling as he saw Leo was already out there, shaking hands and making the slow track to the pavilion where he was supposed to stand as the entrances were made to the music.
He had grabbed Bella as his moral support somewhere along the way, because she was holding his arm, auburn hair burning orange as the 5 PM sun started to lower on them, the guests rushing to their places and the violin players getting in position.
"I knew he'd find a way to pull her in," Jonah huffed, not frustrated, but sounding proud.
Luke smiled at him, "can't blame him, my wife is a vision," he said smugly, then grabbed the box in his pocket as Jon turned to look at him, "safe and sound, man," he opened it to reveal the rings, "are you ready?"
Jonah's bright smile slipped for the first time all day, that cloud of near arrogance melting as he nodded, taking the box, "will you laugh if I say I was born ready?"
Luke snorted, but his sight got blurry all over again. To busy his hands, he smoothed Jonah's tan jacket, fiddled with the pocket square, "I'm so proud of you," he said through the tight knot in his throat, stuck there even as he tried to clear it, "I'm so happy for you, brot-"
Before he finished his sentence, Jonah tackled him with a hug. Tight, rib crushing and shoulders shaking slightly. Lucas' shoulders dropped, the knot in his throat loosening up as he hugged his best friend right back, squeezing him and pulling back just enough to pat his cheek and wipe away the tears running down his the corner of his own eyes, "well, fuck-"
"I love you," Jonah said, quietly, but firm, "I don't know how this happened, because trust me, I tried to get rid of you so many times-" he chuckled and so did Luke, new tears rushing up, "but I'm glad you're here with me."
Luke shook his head, a sudden sob bursting through and he let out a whine, "oh fuck you-" he groaned, as his whole face burned, "I love you too, Jon. Both of you."
---------
Leo hadn't been nervous about the wedding even for a day. From the minute Jonah had proposed — or tried to — all he had felt was incredible certainty and excitement. Even when they broke the news to Jackie and she had prompted twenty questions and tried to highjack the planning, even when Leo had failed at it and passed the wedding responsibilities to Jonah, even when their plans started to become a reality and he was suddenly in a suit, cake testing and venue visiting. Not once he had been nervous.
Until today.
His heart was racing and his hands were sweating and he felt like he was going to be sick.
"Oh there you are-" Bella stopped on her tracks as she met him downstairs, chaperoned by Vince who had a steady hand on his back, "uh- Everything okay?"
"Everything is alright," Vince spoke for him, but Leo nodded in agreement. Everything was perfect, he was just so worried about not messing it up, "he's just nervous, can you get him to the altar?"
Bella's eyes widened, blue sparkling even more as it was surrounded by black mascara and some green reflective eyeshadow, "of course-" she jumped forward, grabbing Leo's bicep and he took her hand from it, bringing it up to his mouth and kissing her knuckles.
"Thank you," he said quietly, squeezing her fingers and curling his arm so he could guide her around like a lady.
She leaned in, "no, thank you for saving me from the sharks," she said, which was just her being sweet, so he felt like he was the one doing her a favor and not the opposite way around, "deep breaths, it'll be over before you know it."
"I don't know if I want it to be over," Leo admitted quietly, although he was still shaking with nervousness. Bell's fingers curled on his forearm a little tighter as they moved through the crowd and he started shaking hands, smiling to his friends, people from work, the hospital, the baseball team whom he really liked, faces he had never seen before-
Through all of it, Bella was a steadying rock and before he realized he was at the altar, the violinists moving into position and the justice of peace took his place. Jackie stepped forward to meet them and Leo let out a shaky breath, meeting her eyes. They were hazel just like Jon's, a shade darker, more brown than green.
"My darling," she cupped Leo's face in her hands, smiling at him like they had known each other for much longer than they did. Just barely a year and a half and yet he never felt like she was faking to like him, to- "my darling son."
He waited for her to finish her phrase, then it hit him she meant him. Jackie looked amused as she patted his cheek and took Bella away from him with the grace of someone who had done it a thousand times.
Bell hesitated, then leaned in, planting a kiss on his cheek and smiling at Leo, "breathe out," she whispered, flashing him a brilliant smile and then stepping away with Jackie and sitting down just as the music started.
There was a general rustle at the first soft violin notes and Leo bounced nervously on his feet, twisting his sweaty hands. Almost no one was looking at him now, although he caught the eye of his work friends and flashed them a smile, before looking ahead once more.
Vince and Wendy were spearheading it. Wen was wearing the most ridiculous heels Leo had ever seen and he let out a little nervous chuckle at that, probably so she could look proportionate next to Vin. They didn't separate at the ending of the nave, but instead moved to stand behind Leo, to his left, Vince breaking protocol as he thumped on Leo's back and gave him a reassuring smile.
Angie and Luke were next. Angelina was smiling so much he was sure he could see her molars and that Luke was the only thing keeping her from rushing through the walk and ruin the choreography Jonah had drilled on them like a marine in the previous night.
As soon as they reached the end of the walk, moving to the free spot to the other side of the pavilion, the music changed.
This was new, through all of the rehearsal they had done it with the violin group, I Can't Help Falling In Love playing during all of their walks-
But no, there was a saxophonist now and Leo couldn't help the blubbering laughter that came up as he realized Jonah had kept this a secret from all of them. What a diva.
Four notes, a song Leo didn't recognize, and then he caught Jonah's eyes at the end of the nave and all of the previous nervousness vanished as if it was magic.
Jonah had insisted on entering on his own and Leo was glad, because he couldn't even pretend to keep his eyes off of him. It was like all their guests disappeared.
His racing thoughts stopped and Leo opened a bright smile, sight blurring as Jonah smiled back at him, casually walking to the sax notes as if he did that everyday, as if they were seeing each other across the football field, the crowded hospital or the hall of their building after a long day.
Leo blinked quickly against the tears and let out a watery chuckle as suddenly a handkerchief appeared in front of him, Vince patting his back as he did that.
He took it, squeezing the square of fabric in his hand and letting his eyes rake over all of Jon, the way his curls were catching the sunset just right, how he had picked the perfect tan color for a suit that brought out his deep complexion, how his eyes were so incredibly green as they were all watery-
"It's no use if we both cry," Jonah choked out just as he reached Leo and the blonde shook his head, wiping away the tears and turning to face him, forgetting for a second that they were standing in front of fifty guests.
The soft notes of the sax floated away, fading, and the justice of peace cleared his throat, "welcome, loved ones. We are gathered here today to join Leo Wagner and Jonah Banks in holy matrimony-"
"I love you," Leo whispered, completely drowning out the man, and Jonah smiled right back at him, the golden sunset bathing him.
"I love you more," he mouthed, taking Leo's hands in his and squeezing it, as their officiant kept speaking.
Heads up for the people who are avoiding the Wendy Relapse Arc; We see Wendy "sick" at the start and Max, wrongly, assumes is because of the flu. It's only the first half of the fic, so I'd still recommend reading it, just skip a little bit. It's Max's POV and not detailed at all.
--------------
They sat in the bathroom for the longest time, as Vince continued to try and turn inside out. It was already dark outside as they managed to convince him that he was truly empty and relocated him to bed, shivering under covers and with a bucket on the ground next to him.
Max's heart squeezed with worry and sympathy as he watched the other man sleep, the fever leaving a permanent red mark in the middle of his cheek, the sweat glistening all over his face despite the fact Wendy was consistently wiping it off with her cold washcloth.
Vaguely he could overhear Wen down the hall, talking on the phone with Jonah, saying they'd be quarantine and that no, he didn't have to worry and yes, they had everything in the house. It was probably a twenty four hour bug and Vin would be fine in the morning.
Vince squirmed, turning on his side just enough he could hang his head out of the mattress and Max fully entered the room, holding up the bucket under his friend's mouth. An empty heave shook Vin's frame, bringing up nothing but a string of frothy burps and a whine.
"Shhh," Max sighed, pushing back Vin's curls and grabbing his shoulder, pushing him against the pillows, "you're empty, you're done."
Vin's Adam's apple bobbed up and down, dangerously, eyes squeezed shut and a dark frown between his brows. Max softly ran his fingers over Vince's wrinkles, smoothing the frown away, scratching his scalp, "relax, man. Try to catch some sleep."
"Max...?" Vince sounded absolutely lost, "don't- You'll get sick..."
"Pffft," Max snorted, rolling his eyes, "too little, too late. Get some sleep, Vin."
Vince frowned at him, but he was clearly too tired to fight it any longer and very quickly his eyes rolled back, whole body going slack. Max grimaced, since it looked more like a fainting spell than falling asleep, but then a soft snore followed and he relaxed.
Nevertheless, he didn't move. Much like he had seen Wendy do before, he stayed sat on the bed, petting away Vin's curls. He understood entirely why she hadn't been able to move. There was just something about seeing Vince, big and strong, so vulnerable that made him not want to look away.
"He's asleep?" Wendy whispered from the doorway, startling Max. His cheeks caught on fire, as if he had just been caught red handed doing something he shouldn't.
"Yeah," Max whispered, carefully getting up from the bed and tiptoeing back to the door. He winced at the door creaked slightly, scared it might wake him up.
"Come have dinner," Wendy tugged on his arm, keeping her voice low, "c'mon..."
Once they were out of the hallway and back into the kitchen, Max felt like he could breathe. He rolled his shoulders, "was Jonah too mad?"
"Not mad, just concerned," Wendy answered, opening the fridge and then letting out a sigh, "I don't feel like cooking, how about we order in?"
Food was the last thing in his mind, which was weird considering he had thrown up his lunch and should've been famished by now. Max shrugged, leaning against the fridge, "sure, what do you have in mind?"
In true womanly fashion, Wendy didn't know what she wanted, but she sure as hell knew what she didn't want, shooting down all of his options. Eventually they settled on Hawaiian food, back in the living room.
Max pushed around the bits and pieces of his salad with his fork, happily opting to paying more attention to Wen as she started to tell him all about her and Vin's food adventures, instead of his own meal.
He wasn't sure when he started to drift off, but suddenly Wendy's giggling was jostling him awake, her hands on his arm.
"Hey," her face was much closer than before and he realized she was in completely different clothes, a pink robe wrapped around her form, stuffed bunny slippers, "you dozed off, Max."
"Shit," he wiped at his face, cringing as he realized he had drooled in his slip, "shit, I'm- I'm sorry..."
"No," Wendy shook her head, ushering him up, "don't apologize. Go change while I fix the couch for you, alright?"
He nodded, stumbling up and struggling to piece things together. His backpack was across the room, with his change of clothes and toiletries.
Max was yawning as he changed into his sweatpants and long sleeved shirt combo, now with his teeth brushed, and found that Wendy had already pulled out the couch and fixed it up with blankets and a pillow at lightspeed.
"Thank you, Wen," he yawned and leaned in, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as she passed him by in the hallway.
"Just call if you need anything," she squeezed his arm, "goodnight Max."
"Goodnight," he smiled, then walked to the couch and fell against the cushions with a pleased sigh. His whole body was aching, be it because of the drive between in Doveport and Welton when he wasn't used to riding a bike or because of manhandling Vince around.
He never quite fell asleep, but instead dozed in and out of consciousness many times. Wendy's pullout couch was very comfy, but the apartment was weird, not bad, just... Different. Every time Max closed his eyes, his sleepy brain latched on a different corner of her living room. The rounded rectangle table with a big flower pot sitting in the middle, the books under her TV rack, the paintings littering the walls...
He curled up further under the blankets, feeling like he was freezing, despite the fact it was quite a warm night. So warm that her A/C was on and eventually Max stumbled up and rummaged near the front door in order to find the remote and turn it off. He fell back into the blankets, rolling himself up in them like a burrito and pressing his nose to the dusty pink cushions.
His teeth were chattering and Max was debating getting up and bothering the couple down the hall to ask for an extra blanket when he actually heard the bedroom door open.
For one second he laid still, scared that somehow he had woken them up by freezing to death, but then the footsteps came down the hall, all the way to the guest bathroom — too soft to be Vince's — and the light spilled out, vanished again as the door closed and Max sat up as he heard Wendy retching.
Oh no.
He needed to brace against the couch as he jumped up in a hurry, a wave of vertigo nearly sending him flat on his back. Max frowned at his own faulty body, then stumbled to the guest bathroom and knocked softly, keeping his voice low, "Wen? Wen, are you okay?"
Obviously it wasn't. Of course she'd get the damn bug, she was sleeping with the walking petri dish that was Vin at this moment. And of course she was hurrying down the hall to be sick, because her boyfriend woke up at any sound. Ridiculously selfless.
"Go'way!" Wendy groaned and Max sighed, resting his forehead to the door with a yawn.
"M'fraid I can't-" he yawned again, "can't do that, gorgeous."
"I'm fine!" Wendy's voice wasn't a yell, but it was raspy and loaded with embarrassment. He hated it, he wanted to make her feel better, not the opposite.
Max moved away from the door, only so he could go to the kitchen and grab Wendy comically large water bottle, as well as a bowl. He looked around, but try as he might he couldn't find a washcloth, so he settled for a clean dishcloth, running it under the tap and praying she wouldn't be too mad about it.
Then he walked back to the bathroom and knocked once more, "just let me take a look at you?" he offered and heard a sniffle.
That did it. Without thinking, Max turned the doorhandle and found out Wendy hadn't locked the door. She was crumpled on the floor, away from the toilet, hugging her knees and resting her back on the bathtub, crying.
"Oh, Wendy," Max groaned, sinking to his knees, "of course you got it," he planted the water bottle next to her foot and crawled closer, unsure of what he should or could do. He wanted to scoop her up, she was so tiny and vulnerable, it made his heart ache, but at the same time, he wasn't sure if he was crossing some sort of boundary...
"Here," Max opted for saying, offering her the humid cloth, "wipe your face, it'll help you feel better."
Wendy's frame shook with a sob at his words, as if the prospect she deserved to feel better was a bad thing or something beyond her sight. He understood, the flu was the worst. His own stomach wasn't feeling too hot at the moment, sympathy nausea he apparently got now causing things to swirl away.
When she made no movement to get the dishcloth, Max moved even closer and cupped her chin with his hand, starting to do it for her. She was cool to the touch, which was a good sign, right? No fever...?
Wendy's chin wobbled in his hold, green eyes filled with tears, "I'm sorry..."
"What for?" Max rolled his eyes, then winced as it caused an annoying throbbing to spring up behind his right away, "c'mere-" he closed the small distance between them, wrapping his arms around her and Wendy promptly collapsed against him.
She pressed her face to his chest, shaking like a newborn puppy and Max rubbed his chin over the top of her head, instinctually, "shhh, you'll feel better soon," he promised and that seemed to cause a fresh batch of tears.
His eyes were burning with the effort of staying open and his back aching, begging him to go back to bed, but Wendy was still clinging to him and he had no intentions of moving away.
It seemed like it took forever, Max drifting in and out of consciousness as he continued to hold her, when Wendy finally stirred in his arms.
"You're warm," she whispered, her voice raspy, face slightly swollen from all the crying. Max frowned, he didn't feel like he was warm at all.
"No, I'm freezing my ass off here," he scoffed at her, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "how are you feeling?"
A sniffle answered him, as Wendy averted her eyes and shut the toilet. He hadn't glanced at it, it hadn't occurred him to, but now Max wondered if she had puked at all, given she didn't press the flush. Better this way.
Maybe she was one of those people who just really really hated feeling sick.
"I'm fine," Wendy's hands suddenly were on his face, causing him to flinch. They were like ice cubes, "you need to lie down, I think you have a fever."
"That's one- One hell of a plague," Max grumbled, using the wall to hoist himself up, "took all three of us down in less than twenty hours."
Wendy wrapped an arm around his waist, guiding him back to the living room, humming in agreement with him.
As soon as he was lying on the couch, exhaustion came crashing down like a ton of bricks. Every little bit of his body ached, his head was throbbing and he was shivering. His stomach felt overly full and sour, despite the fact he had only nibbled at dinner, and there was a crampy sensation deep in his gut.
"Take these, Max," Wendy's voice was soft, breathy, head hovering over his face and delicate fingers pressing a couple pills to his mouth. There was a halo around her head, bouncing on her chocolate hair, and Max couldn't pinpoint if it was the overhead lights, the sun, or if she had turned on the television.
He gulped down the meds, obediently, then shivered violently as he pressed his face to the pillow, curling up so much he was turning into an origami.
Next time he opened his eyes, it was definitely bright out. The sun was filtering through the cream curtains in a peachy haze, but still Max groaned at the brightness and moved his arm to cover his eyes. Immediately there were fingers in his hair, too big to be Wen's, too certain too.
"How are you?" Vince's voice was shot, as if he had gargled with glass shards and Max dared to lift his head from his dark cocoon to look at the other man. Vin looked like the picture of misery, in grey oversized sweats, his curls sticking out everywhere and gluing to his clammy face, complexion all waxy and eyes sunken into their sockets.
He looked just like Max felt.
"Gross," the blonde groaned, refusing to sit up. His stomach was churning and he could feel acid tickling the back of his throat, if he moved he was going to be sick, "I hate you."
"I hate me too," Vince sat down on the opposite end of the couch, causing the structure to groan. He wrapped an arm around his stomach, staring at a spot in the large daisy rug.
"Vince," Max kicked the other man's thigh, gulping down the nausea that the movement caused, "if you're gonna hurl, move."
Vince shook his head, rubbing his face in an exhausted manner, "nothing else to-" he muffled a burp in his hand, "-to bring up."
"Great," Max closed his eyes again, trying to urge his headache to vanish, "where's Wendy?"
"Asleep," Vince yawned, "she was up all night between you and me-"
"She's sick too," Max warned him, "she was throwing up yesterday."
Even without opening his eyes, Max knew he had revealed new information, because Vince's mouth snapped shut and a tense silence followed.
"She was...?"
"Yeah," Max forced his eyes open, "I guess she didn't want to wake you, she went to the hallway bathroom."
Immediately he knew he had said the wrong thing. Vince's dark brows met in an upset frown, his lips turned down at the corners.
"Vin?"
"Get some sleep," Vince moved up, not as quick as he clearly wanted, but quick enough Max could tell he was annoyed, "I got you-" he stumbled around, then held out a Gatorade bottle for the blonde. When Max didn't move to get it, Vin dropped it in the space between Max's stomach and his curled up legs, "hydrate and try to get some rest, I'll wake you for meds soon-"
"Where- Where are you going?" Max felt beyond puzzled, even a little wounded. Clearly he had gotten used to being babied by Vin, because he expected a lot more care than he was receiving and it stung. Not only that, but he had the distinct sensation that Vin was mad at him, but Max had no idea why.
"To check on our girl," Vince scoffed, "if she's been sick all night, she's probably dehydrated as hell. Get some sleep."
Ah.
Our girl?
Max didn't have any time to retort, as Vince moved out of the living room, way too quickly for someone who was recovering from a brutal round of the flu.
Our girl.
It was obviously an accusation, thinly veiled jealousy that Max didn't think Vin was capable to feel, but was clear as a bell. Nevertheless, those two words caused a new shiver to go down Max's spine
He let out a groan, burying his head in the cushions and closing his eyes once more, hoping the flu would do its job and knock him out before his brain started to chew on that new piece of information, that weird tingling emotion he couldn't place. Guilt. Elation.
"Hey, sleepyhead," Wen whispered, touching his bicep and Max refused to open his eyes or change his breathing pattern. He didn't want to deal with reality just yet, not with the mess he was digging himself in, not with how achy and weak his body felt.
"I can tell you're awake," Wendy chuckled, pushing his hair back, thumb stroking his cheek, "how does some soup sound?"
Awful.
"Vin's just been able to stomach some, you think you could try?"
Nope.
His stomach felt like a bubbling cauldron, full to the brim with hot acid. The nausea that had been present since he had started to feel chilly was more strong than ever, causing his mouth to water and his stomach to churn. The organ let out an upset whine.
"How is it?" Wendy asked and Max knew it wasn't directed at him, because her voice was louder.
"It's great," Vince answered, causing his girlfriend to let out an amused huff and get up from her spot in the couch.
"You can't taste it, can you?" Wendy teased and Max cracked an eye open, seeing her drape herself over Vin's back and plant a kiss on his cheek. He was sitting by the dinner table, still looking like death warmed over, but significantly better from that morning.
"Nope," Vince leaned his head back, grinning at Wendy, "but I'm sure it's great. I trust your cooking skills."
"I'm moved," she ran her fingers through her boyfriend's curls, then widened her eyes at Max as she caught him watching them, "you're awake, uh?"
Max offered them a tight lipped smile, slowly sitting up. Even moving as slow as he could, his stomach seemed to churn even harder. His hair was down from his manbun, sticking to his clammy face and falling like a curtain around his face as he hung forward, planting his elbows on his knees. It made him feel claustrophobic and antsy.
"Guys?"
"Yeah? What do you need?" Much to his surprise, it was Vin who asked, sounding concerned. So at least he didn't hate Max just yet. Our girl.
"Uhm, can you- Can you tie my hair?" if he moved his arms up in order to try, Max just knew he was gonna be sick all over his lap. It was taking all of his will power at the moment to speak and not throw up.
"Uh, sure, yeah-" he heard the noise of the chair sliding on wooden floors, Wendy's feet down the hall and then a big hand cupped his forehead, pulling away the blonde strands.
"Are you too warm? Maybe your fever finally broke..." Vince said and Max shook his head, unable to answer.
"Got it!" Wendy squealed, rushing back into the room, with what he assumed was the hair tie. Vince combed all of his hair back and tied it, just as Max gagged and Wen let out a squeal.
"Oh, okay- Okay, hold on just a second! Just a sec!" She urged him and Max snapped his mouth shut, swallowing the disgusting warm saliva and trying not to breathe at all. His body was covered in goosebumps and the stomach acid was flooding his mouth-
He retched, just as Wendy skipped back in the room and all but threw the bowl to Vin, who caught it in the air and pushed it under Max's chin just in time to catch a dribble of sick.
The blonde let out a humiliated groan, reaching with shaky hands to take the bowl from Vince. He probably had pissed someone up there really badly, because why the hell he was being sick of both his crushes. A particular circle of hell.
He lurched forward with a much more violent heave, a large gush of liquid and chunks falling into the bowl and causing his eyes to water and his nose to run as stomach acid got into it.
"That's alright, get it up," Wendy cooed, planting a hand on his back and rubbing up and down, "you'll feel better soon, it's not- Shit, Vin, get out of here, honey."
Max didn't have any energy to turn his head. It felt like it weighted a thousand pounds and he was breathing shallowly through his mouth, a line of thick saliva hanging from his bottom lip and keeping him tied to the bowl like an umbilical cord. He tried to gulp down, only for a thick belch to come up from the depths of his stomach, bringing another wave at its tail-end.
His ears went deaf and Max let out a whimper, one hand letting go of the bowl, feverish brain clumsily trying to find any comfort as he wrapped his arm around his stomach and squeezed, trying to keep the contents down.
"I got you, I got you," Wendy planted a hand on the bowl, steading it and brushed her knuckles against his cheek, "take a breath, love."
Fuck.
Max gagged up another watery stream, then dry heaved, loudly and violently, whole body shaking with effort. His stomach muscles spasmed, trying to bring up anything else, but he had barely eaten dinner and thrown up lunch, there really wasn't much to puke.
Wendy thumped his back, with just enough force he rocked forward with yet another heave and managed to bring up a stream of bright orange bile, before panting for several minutes.
Slowly Max lowered the bowl away from his face, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him.
"Are you done?" Wendy asked and he waited a minute, before nodding. She sprung up, "let me take this then-"
Max let out a loud groan at the embarrassment of not being able to clean up after himself, only to feel Vince's hands on his shoulders, pulling him back against the couch.
"Relax," Vin squeezed his nape, thumbs rubbing in little gentle circles, "relax."
It was not so much cooing as it was an order and Max melted under the massage, breathing out. His stomach was still aching and he was still freezing, but at least Vince wasn't mad at him and Wendy didn't seem to think he was gross.
He let out a yawn, then heard Wendy giggle, blankets being tucked around him and then her voice as she said, "I got him, you go lie down, honey. You're looking just as pale as he is."
"Uhmmm," was Vince's answer, followed by a tired sigh and a poke to Max's shoulder, "let's bring you to bed, it's comfier than the couch."
The blonde felt like he was drunk as Vince ushered him up, exchanging quiet words with Wen and knowing glances that seemed like they were having a silent conversation. He stumbled ahead, then fell face first against a pillow.
The bed dipped as Vin laid down right next to him and then even more as Wendy threw a blanket over them and snuggled up so she was lying half on top of Vince, her cheek pressed to his chest in a way that made her whole face squish and made Max snort.
At least they didn't have to worry about infecting her...?
His stomach let out an upset whine and Max cringed, curling up and scooting on the bed so he could press his forehead to Vin's bicep and try to steal a bit of his warmth.
Vin's hand was in Wendy's hair, fiddling with the waves and wrapping them around his fingers. She turned her face slightly, pressing a kiss to her boyfriend's stomach, then reached out and cupped Max's face, stroking his prickly cheek, sort of combing his auburn beard.
This comes directly after this fic, where Max got sick from his lunch around Leo.
--------------
"Oh no," Wendy giggled, curled up next to Max on the couch, her head thrown back and a blush devouring her cheeks, climbing up from her blouse's cleavage, kissing her neck and ears.
He felt proud of himself for making her laugh like that, even if it was at his expense.
Max was sitting next to her, Wendy's heat pad pressed to his stomach, having just told her with no shortage of expletives just how awesome lunch had been.
"You've got the worst luck known to man, Max," Wendy's shoulders continued to shake and she dug her feet on the cushion, hiding them under his thigh to warm them up, "I can't believe Leo threatened to uninvite you."
"Right?" He scoffed, resting his elbow on her knee, "but he didn't, so you'll just have to put up with me at the wedding."
"I bet you're an obnoxious drunk," Wendy rolled her eyes, "loud and full of horrible ideas."
"I'm an angel," he grinned at her, "have I told you about the first time I got wasted and how I was arrested for the first tim-"
"Aw, I owe Bella twenty bucks," Wendy interrupted him with a pout and Max looked at her with his eyebrows raised.
"Pardon me?"
"Bell bet you had done time before," Wendy's nose wrinkled in an adorable manner and he turned fully on his side so he could plant his other arm also on top her knee, his chin resting on his crossed forearms, "I said you were all bark, but no bite."
"Rude?!" Max chuckled, pinching her calf and making Wendy squeal and try to move away, but his arm on top of her knee kept her put, "what the fuck, Wendy! Well, I didn't do time, so I guess you were both wrong."
"You didn't?" She perked up, curiosity coloring her words, "...So? Are you gonna tell me?!"
"First time I got arrested I was drunk and I got a little too in the face of a cop, who got called at a house party I was at. It was during college, I was just old enough to drink, dude didn't believe my ID and I already didn't like cops, so-" Max shrugged, smiling as he reminisced on the memory, "second time was political. I was part of a group protesting for the environment, while I was on work break, in Portland. I got held for two days, though, that was all. I don't think you need to pay Bell up."
Wendy's face was clouded with curiosity, but instead of asking anything else, she leaned in and poked his belly, "how's your stomach?"
In truth, Max had been feeling better from the minute the finished getting sick. His gut might hate him, but at least it wasn't vicious, only wanted the offending items out. Nevertheless, Wendy had been so quick to baby him when he got to her building, he had leaned on it more than he should've.
"I'm fine," he squeezed her hand, pressing the heat pad further to his belly, "just allergic to fun, it seems."
"Or to Leo. I wouldn't blame you," Wendy teased, then sprung up from the couch as if she had been tasered as the front door opened. Max snorted at that, figuring Wen had forgotten for a split second Vince was coming home.
As soon as he turned his head to look at the other man, Max's eyebrows jumped up.
Vince's usual easy going smile was gone, instead replaced by a purposeful frown. Not the occasional resting bitch face that his dark strong brows could cause, but a real frown.
Max's smile fell as he wondered if maybe his presence there, alone with Vin's girlfriend, was the cause behind such a mean mug.
Wendy looked just as confused as Max, "uh... Hello?"
"Hi," Vince's voice was gruff as he removed his jacket and kicked off his boots. Wendy looked over her shoulder, confused, and Max shrugged.
"Everything okay...?" Max gauged, biting nervously on the skin of his thumb. At the same time as he said that, Wendy asked:
"How was the evening with the guys?"
Vin shrugged, "fine," he rubbed his face, squinting at the entry rug, "I don't feel well, I'm gonna lie down."
Oh.
Relief washed over Max. That explained it, at least Vin wasn't mad at him, just sick. Poor dude.
"Not well? How so?" Wendy questioned, skipping ahead so she could cup her boyfriend's cheeks, "you're a little warm, were you in the sun?"
That could be it, Vince's cheeks sure were pink and he seemed sweaty, although that could just be clamminess. Max got up too, so he could shadow over Wen, as if he was of any help when compared to a doctor.
"I was out playing so yeah," Vin's whole face scrunched up as he winced again, eye rolling Wendy's conjecture, "I just have a headache and feel gross. I'm gonna go lie down."
Max let out a snort, it was weirdly amusing to see Vince act like such an ass, for a minute there he had all but forgotten of how the other man had acted the first time they met. Vin could be such a dick.
"Okay..." Wendy pulled back, seeming unsure of what to do, "do you need anything?"
"No, I-" Vince interrupted himself, cheeks puffing out with a soft burp and he rubbed his chest in an uneasy manner, "just gotta sleep it off..."
Wendy nodded, stepping to the side as Vince moved further in. He passed by Max, offering him a tight lipped, forced, smile, "hi Max," his voice was all gruff and he moved away before the blonde could answer.
Thirty seconds later he heard the bedroom door opening and closing, loudly.
"...That was weird," Max said and Wendy nodded enthusiastically.
"He's never acted like that," she chewed on her lip, "probably is just the headache."
"Probably," Max conceded, thinking that Vince seemed a little green around the gills, but opting for staying quiet. If his girlfriend wasn't mother henning then-
"He seemed a little queasy, didn't he?" Wendy wondered, out loud, walking to the kitchen and he followed her like a shadow. For some reason that Max couldn't quite pinpoint, she sounded elated. Weirdo. Cute.
He watched as she moved around her small kitchen, filling up a water bottle, fishing out a bowl, moving out of the room to retrieve some towels- Max hung awkwardly at the door threshold as Wendy entered the dark bedroom and sat on the corner of the mattress, Vince a lump under covers.
"Honey," Wendy whispered, eliciting a grunt as response. The hallway light was spilling inside the room, bathing half of Wen's face in gold and outlining Vince's form beneath the blankets. He took up so much of the bed, Max chewed on his lip as he tried to visualize Wendy in it as well.
"I know your head hurts," Wendy continued to speak in a low voice, running her fingers through his curls, "but I want you to take some meds, okay? Then you can sleep."
Not an hour before she had been using that exact same tone with him, fussing as she pushed pepto in his hands and all but shoved Max to the couch despite him being much taller.
Vince let out another groan, then there was some shuffling around as Wendy fed him the singular tylenol pill and a gulp of water, tucking the covers around him as Vin collapsed back against the pillows.
"We'll be in the living room," Wen leaned in, planting a kiss on her boyfriend's temple, "holler if you need me."
Max could almost hear Vin's not verbalized "stay". Although he never said it, he curled up further, a hand wrapped around Wendy's wrist and keeping her in place, before she could get up. Max let out a snort, crossing his arms and leaning even more against the doorway, thumping his head against the wood as he watched a blush crawl up Wen's cheeks and her steal a glance in his direction.
He felt like a voyeur, knowingly intruding into an intimate moment but unable to look away.
Wendy didn't have the heart to pull away, so she stayed put, continuing to pet Vin's hair with the hand that wasn't trapped by his grip.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, almost good thirty minutes later as she managed to unhook her hand from Vin's tight grip and pulled the door ajar behind her, "I'm being a terrible host."
"No, you're not," Max rolled his eyes, glancing past her shoulder and into the dark bedroom. Vince was snoring away, louder than usual and Max felt embarrassed that he knew just how the other man was supposed to sound. What weird information to have filed away.
"Yes, I am," Wendy scoffed, planting her hands on his arm and pushing Max down the hall, "you were telling me about your big bad criminal career."
He couldn't help but chuckle at that, rushing to cover his mouth and glancing nervously backwards, just in case they had woken Vin up. Wendy froze too. A snore. Both their shoulders dropped in relief and Max quietly giggled, "it was incredibly short lived," he promised, falling back on the couch and feeling his stomach fill up with butterflies as Wendy resumed to her original position, curling up next to him, green eyes sparkling with curiosity as he said, "but my arsonist career had just started."
He didn't feel the time passing at all as they jumped from topic to topic. From his harmless arson days, to college, to her career — Wendy's voice went up a whole note as she explained just why she had picked neurology and how her supervision worked. Her phone gallery was almost a crime scene, a thousand pictures that were just guts and brains and she nearly draped herself over his knee as she explained every single one with glee.
Max was trying not to laugh too loudly as he heard Wendy tell him just how her residency had worked during college days and dumb shit they had been forced to deal with.
"Gynecology was a trip," she groaned, although her eyes had a manic glint, "you cannot imagine the amount of people who are having sex without knowing what they're doing. The crazy stuff I'd hear during my clinic hours...' she shuddered, "at least I only did rotations there for the mandatory three months. Had a lady come in wondering how she was pregnant because they had been using protection and when I asked for clarification I saw the burst condom around her wrist like a fucking bracelet-"
"You're joking," Max wailed, "you're fucking with me!"
"Oh, I wish! I haven't even told you about the orthopedics supervisor-"
"He used to sleep and let the residents run amuck," Vince's voice, still deep from sleep, interrupted. Wendy perked up, tilting her head back with a smile as Vin pressed a kiss to the top of her head, standing behind the couch.
He was terribly pale, redness around his eyes and nose. Dark circles that had no business being there.
"How are you feeling, dude?" Max asked, carefully pulling back his legs. Somehow they had ended up on Wen's lap, her hands clutching at the hem of his pants, fingers ghosting over the scar he sported on his ankle from the fatidic hiking trip.
"Gross," Vince admitted, "ashamed. I was rude earlier, I'm sorry."
Max rolled his eyes, waving him away, "you're a dick, I've known," he teased and Vince's cheeks turned red as he circled the couch and collapsed on the armchair that was next to it.
"How's the headache?" Wendy moved so she was on her knees on the rug, before her boyfriend, peering at his face since he had hunched over.
"Better..." Vince sounded small, clearly embarrassed and still in pain, "I was such an asshole earlier, I'm so-"
"Aw, my poor baby," Wendy's voice went up a gleeful note, half amused, half teasing, as she planted a bunch of kisses all over his face, using Vin's knee to push herself up, "you're not feeling well, that's alright..."
Vince muffled a groan against her chest as Wendy kissed his temple, hugging her by the middle. Max opened an entertained grin, noticing how Wendy seemed to have cuteness aggression as her hands clasped her boyfriend's shoulders and she pulled him to her, almost melting them together.
Vince stayed in that position for a minute too long and Wen turned her head to look at Max, her chin pressed to the top of her boyfriend's head, mouthing silently, "such a baby."
Then suddenly the other man pulled back, all but punching himself as he pressed a hand to his lips and muffled a wet, frothy burp. His face had gone from the previous milky white, straight into grey-green territory. He stayed very still, breathing slowly, and Wendy remained frozen, arms up in the air from how Vince had pushed her away.
"Vin?"
Max sprung up, running back to the bedroom as he remembered the bowl Wendy had left there. He crawled over the thrown blankets and grabbed it off the floor, rushing back to the living room.
Vince hadn't moved, despite the fact Wendy had been trying to usher him up. His eyes were squeezed shut, perspiration covering his skin and Max all but fell as he tripped, plating the bowl in front of him.
"Here," he panted and Vince took it, hand all clammy as it brushed with Max's. He leaned over it, opening his mouth and drooling, causing the blonde to wrinkle his nose with disgust and sympathy.
"Aw, man," he straightened up, meeting Wendy's worried gaze and planting a hand on Vince's back. He was drenched in sweat and only then did Max realize he was for sure sporting a fever, "you're sick sick," he diagnosed.
Vince answered him with a groan, followed by an empty heave. Wendy sighed, pulling back his hair, "honey, let it up, you'll feel better..."
"Try-Eeurph- Trying..." He hiccupped mid sentence, then let out a whine and folded even more, pressing the bowl's edge to his forehead. Wendy let out a little frustrated sigh.
Max thought of back in Vince's house, months before, when he had been called to the rescue by a scared sounding Sophia. Clearly illness took the most out of Vin.
"That's okay," Wen cooed, continuing to rub his back, "take your time."
Vince lowered the bowl to his mouth once more, forcing up a little burp and a splash of thick saliva. He was panting as if he had just run a marathon.
It seemed to go on for the longest time, Vince bringing up little more than miserable belches and globs of thick saliva, all but rocking in his seat. His whole face was scrunched up and Wendy's easy going smile from before had vanished, concern clouding her face.
"Dude," Max sighed, thumping Vince's back as the other man dry heaved for the 10th time, unable to vomit, "I think you might just be empty..."
"No," Wendy voiced Vin's thoughts as he shook his head, "let's move him to the bathroom, c'mon."
Happy to be given a task he could actually help with, Max wrapped an arm around Vince's waist and pulled him up. Immediately his back burned, shoulders getting stiff as he tried to manhandle the much heavier man.
"C'mon, Monacelli, help me here," Max grunted, stumbling and nearly falling as he maneuvered Vin into the guest bathroom. Vince was considerably taller than him, so as he lost his footing, both of them went down inside the room.
In his attempt to not collapse, Max grabbed on the towel holder and ended up bringing it down alongside them, falling on the ground with a metallic CLAnk!
"Max!?" Wendy rushed in after them, now holding a can of ginger ale, eyes wide as she took in the scene, "oh my God, what-"
"Tripped," Max groaned, managing to wiggle from under Vin and push him sitting up in front of the toilet, wincing as his ass ached from how they had fallen, "your- Uh, your thingy fell, I'm sorry-" he gestured to the cute curtain holder with a golden bunny on each side of it.
Wendy rolled her eyes, "that's a piece of shit, don't worry about it," she promised, "fell with me too the other day."
Max shrugged, relieved, planting it on the ground and then turning his attention towards Vin once more. The other man had draped himself over the toilet, drooling as he seemed unable to shut his mouth.
"Hon," Wendy got down next to his, cupping Vin's cheek, "Vin, I got you a drink, I want you to chug it, alright? It'll help you be sick."
Max raised his eyebrows, wasn't that a bad idea? Shouldn't they try to not make Vince sick...?
He caught Wen's eyes and she shrugged, "he's not gonna rest until the nausea eases," she explained, opening the can and pushing it against Vin's lips, "big gulps, Vin."
Without so much as a complaint, Vince obeyed, chugging three large gulps — Then his chest jostled with a deep, wet burp and Max rushed up, grabbing Vin's face and making him aim at the toilet just in time for a torrent of sick to hit the water, instead of Wendy's lap.
"There you go," Wendy sighed, thumping her boyfriend's back, "bring it up, honey."
Max cringed at the violent heaves and gags that followed, his own stomach churning with sympathy nausea. He didn't typically get sick from sight or smell, but his belly suddenly felt tender, reminiscing on his own puking episode from before.
"Hey, blondie," Wendy snapped her fingers at him, noticing how pale Max looked and how he gulped the saliva in his mouth, "get out of here, I got him."
He shook his head, standing up in order to spit on the sink and splash some water on his face, "I'm fine, just- Just caught me off guard..." Max promised, not wanting to step away as he felt like he was being of some help.
"Uh-hum," Wendy rolled her eyes, throwing him an amused smile, just as Vin let out a groan and pulled back, resting his forehead on the porcelain.
"Fuck..." Vin's voice was several octaves too deep, "fuck..."
"Are you feeling any better?" Max asked, hopefully, causing Wen to snort at his silly question. Vince spat in the water, then shook his head and leaned back, collapsing against the bathroom wall and curling up, an arm wrapped around his stomach.
"M'freezing..." He whined, "everything hurts."
"Congratulations," Wendy sighed, flushing the toilet, as Max wet the hand towel he had been clutching, getting back down so he could wipe at Vin's chin, "you got the flu."
"Yay," Vince groaned, his head lolling, brown eyes meeting Max's with surprisingly intensity, "Jonah's gonna be elated."
