Miserable
A/N: yeah, yeah I'm not dead. Not going to make any excuses but thank you to everyone who reached out. This will have a part two.
Avery was fucking miserable.
That wasn’t unusual these days, but he’d thought he’d been improving. Hoped he’d been improving. Assumed, even. It had been almost five weeks since he’d been shot and so really, a scrambled egg and a couple of spoonfuls of yogurt should have been a piece of cake.
Cake, pfft - wasn’t like he was trying to eat that - he didn’t even have an appetite for it, at all. And that was a whole different kind of suckage from the fact that he’d just puked up his meager lunch. Practically all over Adam, and definitely on the floor, where he’d missed the garbage can because he’d been trying to ignore the nausea and keep the food down until - fuck - he’d not been able to.
He probably should try to clean it up before it started to smell or something. But right now that felt like too much effort to move from where he was now, curled pathetically on the sofa while Adam (with Drew on FaceTime) was in Avery’s bathroom checking on Gabe. Because whatever was going on with Calder was a lot more serious; at this point, Avery nauseous and puking a little blood wasn’t anything new. It certainly wasn’t going to prevent him from going back to work next week. He’d go back to only drinking his stupid liquid nutrition and keep his mouth shut about how he still felt like shit as long as he could get out of his apartment for more than ten minutes.
As if determined to torment him, Avery’s stomach took that moment to spasm and a wave of familiar nausea rolled through his middle. He knew he was empty so he didn’t bother reaching for the garbage can, just retched emptily into the air. The second heave brought up a dribble of bitter saliva that he swallowed back down stubbornly, mentally threatening his body not to start anything. It came back up as a messy burp and Avery swore to himself while he grabbed a crumpled napkin off the coffee table to spit into, biting the inside of his cheek until the pain won and his stomach calmed down.
He blew out a relieved breath. A couple of days ago he would have kept dry heaving until his abs were burning and he was light-headed and dizzy. This had to be progress; he refused to think it was anything else.
There was a sharp rap on the door which was fortunately enough to jar Avery out of the feeling that he kind of did need to throw up again. Which he refused to do, and so instead gulped down and hauled himself off the sofa to answer. It could have been anyone - he didn’t even care because any distraction was welcome these days - but Drew’s voice called out a second later which made Avery feel simultaneously happy and annoyed. Happy because Drew was a friend and not a Doordash driver or something, and he was usually full of fun gossip. Annoyed because Drew was also a nurse and probably coming to check in on him in that casual, I’m pretending I’m here as a friend but really I’m being a nurse way that he kept pulling with Avery. And yeah, he’d definitely needed him those first few weeks but now it kept reminding him that he wasn’t as recovered as he should be.
These thoughts got him off the sofa and to the door, where he forced his back to straighten in an approximation of I’m fine before he pulled it open. Because he was fine.
And then Drew barely glanced at him.
“Sit down, Morrison; you look gray.” Drew was already moving across the room before the words landed, scanning the empty space, “Calder’s in the bathroom?”
“Yeah . . . with Gabe,” Avery managed, and then realized that oh yeah, Gabe was a Calder too and that’s probably who Drew meant. Before he could explain any more Drew had disappeared into the bedroom.
For half a second, Avery considered following Drew’s order to sit down, but giving into his lingering nausea didn’t fit with his narrative of I’m fine. So he forced up a burp and followed the nurse.
The bathroom was as cramped and dingy as the rest of the apartment. It was definitely not a space made for sharing, and Avery tried not to think about the few times he’d tried, cramming his body against Adam’s as they playfully fought for space in front of the sink or somehow fitting themselves into the tiny shower together. He definitely was not thinking about any of that. Not when he’d been the one to decide - very firmly - that he and Calder should only be friends. Which was absolutely the right decision. Absolutely. And anyway, not important at the moment.
Gabe was sitting on the floor with his arms wrapped around his knees and Adam was leaning against the opposite wall holding a nearly full glass of water. The puking blood seemed to have stopped for the moment but Gabe was pale as fuck and his face contorted in pain.
“Get out of the way, Adam; I’ve got him.” Drew pushed his way bossily into the bathroom - which Avery supposed was his right - and Adam immediately popped out like a cork because clearly the room couldn’t hold three grown men. He stared at Avery for a second, face unreadable, until Drew’s voice floated out.
“Go be useful and make Morrison sit the fuck down. And drink something.” The tone of the nurse’s voice clearly conveyed that he didn’t have time for Avery’s shenanigans at the moment. It was almost comforting; for once he wasn’t the sickest guy in the room. A second later he flushed because what kind of asshole thought was that?
“C’mon; let’s go to the sofa and get out of the way.” Adam tugged on his arm and gave him another unreadable look and Avery wondered if he’d noticed the blushing. He let himself be led back into the living room, grateful for the excuse to sit down. He didn’t think he was going to puke again but he also had absolutely no interest in the various beverages Adam tried to offer him.
Adam finally blew out a frustrated breath. “C’mon, dude, Drew’s right. You’re gray and shaking and your lips are so chapped I’m surprised you can close them. “You’ve got to drink something,” - he pulled open one of Avery’s cabinets - “how about tea?”
“Can you give it a rest? I literally just stopped puking.” Avery could hear how irritable he sounded but he didn’t really care. “You don’t have to do every single thing Drew says; I’m pretty sure I’m not going to die if I don’t drink a fucking glass of water. I’m just too nauseous to put anything in my stomach right now, so lay off.” It was probably unfair to take his frustration out on Adam but at the same time it was a relief not to edit himself. With everyone else Avery was cheerful and enthusiastic about his progress and fine. And if he didn’t want to examine too closely why he was more honest with Adam, well, that was his absolute fucking right.
Adam didn’t seem put off by Avery’s mood; instead he glanced back in the direction of the bedroom. “Yeah, well lie and tell Thorton I made you have a Gatorade so he doesn’t ream me out again, okay?” Adam opened a bottle, poured a third of it into the sink and then plopped the rest on the coffee table. “You drank, you’re keeping it down, and you’re going to finish it, okay?”
It was so unlike Adam to act so nervous, or whatever this was, and about Drew? Avery tried to remember if there had been any recent tension between the two men, but his memories of anything not having to do with his own situation over the past month were murky. He didn’t push though, but shrugged instead. “Yeah, okay,” he agreed, picking up the bottle and turning it in his hands, “yummy.”
“Fuck you,” Adam retorted immediately, but there was a little smile on his face and some of the tension seemed to have left his shoulders. Avery actually took a little sip so he wouldn’t make him a liar when Drew came back.
“Stay down,” he muttered in the direction of his stomach, and that made Adam huff out a soft snort.
“Are you talking to the Gatorade or your dick?” The words were teasing but Adam was watching him with something like a question on his face. Avery flipped him off, because of course he had to, but then he answered the question he knew was underneath.
“I wish I was talking to my dick,” he groused. Even the mouthful of liquid he’d swallowed felt like it was swirling in his gut now. “That hasn’t been an option since . . . well, you know.” It could either mean since before the shooting or the last time he and Adam had been together; either was true. “It’ll probably be a while before I’m ready for . . . urrHRP.” The wet-ish burp interrupted whatever he was going to say, which was fine because Avery wasn’t sure what he meant - until he was ready to have sex again in general? Until he was ready to date? Right now both felt very far away. “I’ll settle for being able to eat lunch without wanting to puke.”
“I’m sorry,” Adam said with that intense sincerity Avery joked was his political consultant voice. It was both dialed in and real, and Avery had no idea how he did that . “Do they have any idea when it will get better?”
“Last week,” Avery answered, not bothering to keep the bitterness out of his voice, “I was finally trying new foods today and you can see how that went.”
Adam’s face contorted into something much less professional. “Ugh, Morrison, that totally sucks.” He sat down next to Avery on the sofa and took the Gatorade bottle out of his hand. “Is there anything I can do?”
Avery’s first instinct was to deflect like he did with everyone else; I’m fine, thanks. His second was to huff and bitch somewhere between sarcasm and serious; how about a new digestive system? His third instinct . . . well he never got there because at that moment Drew appeared in the living room, Gabe leaning against him but at least walking under his own power.
“I’m taking him to the ER,” he announced briskly, “I suspect he’s got a bleeding ulcer.”
Adam jumped to his feet. “But that’s . . . it’s not serious, right?”
“I’m puking blood, bro, what do you think that is?” Gabe’s voice was raspy and wrecked but there was an air of teasing in his tone. Adam flipped him off.
“I just meant, you’re not . . . dying or anything, right?”
“Right,” Drew confirmed, “not dying but we need to get things checked out, probably an endoscopy tonight, or maybe tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll call Logan,” Adam announced. He looked rapidly around, from Gabe’s pale face to Avery’s even more pale one, and then landed on Drew, “I’ll uhh . . . come with you.”
Avery didn’t miss the tiny smirk that played around Drew’s lips before he answered, “better stay here with Morrison; he’s a mess too, or hadn’t you noticed?”
Adam’s posture relaxed. “Oh, I noticed. He’s a disaster. Won’t even drink all his Gatorade.”
“Asshole,” Avery shot back immediately, and was stupidly pleased when Adam sat back down on the sofa, “I’m drinking it.” He reached out and picked up the bottle and took a gulp he was sure was going to be a mistake. But he just needed to keep it down until Drew left, or else he was likely to drag him off to the hospital with Gabe. He swallowed hard and then burped into his fist, willing his body to behave for just a couple more minutes. Drew cleared his throat and Avery knew he wasn’t fooled.
“Text me - immediately - if you start to feel worse.” Drew put his eyes on Adam. “I’m trusting you to keep an eye on him, Calder, “so take this seriously.”
There was a flash in Adam’s eyes that Avery was pretty sure only he recognized. It was gone a second later and he and he braced himself for Adam’s sharp retort. But he only nodded.
“Of course,” he agreed easily, “we’re going to watch basketball and take it easy.”
“Damn, I’m missing basketball,” Gabe mumbled. He slumped a little into Drew’s side and Drew gave up lecturing Adam and started leading Gabe towards the door.
“I’ll see you tomorrow; I’m doing your return-to-work assessment.” Drew dropped the bombshell as if he was commenting on the weather. “1 pm.”
Avery hadn’t heard anything about going back to work and certainly not anything about an assessment first, but he wasn’t about to admit it. “Sounds . . . sounds good,” he managed, hoping he just sounded tired. He had about a million questions, but obviously wasn’t going to ask them now; maybe Rory would know something. “See you at 1.”
And then they were gone and the quiet was a relief. Avery kind of felt like he was going to throw up again, but he wasn’t sure it was only because of the Gatorade. Adam took the bottle from him again and put it on the table. He watched Avery for a long moment.
“You didn’t know about the return-to-work,” he stated. Avery shook his head.
“No. No one’s said a word.” He thought maybe he should be happy about it - this had to mean he was getting better, right? But it was hard to be excited when he was trying not to puke.
Adam nodded slowly. “You want to talk about it?” The question didn’t sound nosy or like he was trying to analyze him, which is why Avery answered the way he did.
“Yeah, in a bit; right now I want to watch the game and not think about it.”
Adam nodded again. “Do you want the trash can near you?”
As much as he wanted to say no, Avery was on a roll with the honesty. He sighed. “Yeah, thanks.”
