#max daniels

The blonde had mentioned it about a day after they came back from the cabin and he was really excited, apparently it was the first dinner party he was ever throwing for his coworkers. Max had no idea why he had been invited, but Leo had glared daggers at him when he mentioned passing on the invitation, making it clear it was not optional.

There was a tap on his window, startling Max. He jumped on his seat, a bubble of gas went up and he had to press a fist to his mouth to muffle a burp, in case it was a student or worse, a student's parent.

He shouldn't have bothered, it was just Vince, clutching his helmet with one hand, the other one tapping Max's glass window.

"What?" Max rolled it down, but didn't make any move to open the car door.

"Are you okay?" Vince frowned at him, "you've been looking kinda pasty since morning."

"Peachy," Max shrugged and Vin let out a scoff, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, right..." He looked around, leaning an elbow on Max's rolled down window, "do you want to grab something to eat?"

God, fuck this guy. Max knew, objectively, that Vince was being friendly, not flirty — At least not this time, he had apparently gotten the hint during the weekend trip that Max was not feeling very "rebound fuck after the worst heartbreak of my life"-y — but that didn't stop him from feeling exposed, like a raw wire.

"I can't, I got Leo's thing tonight."

"Oh yeah, the party I have not been invited to," Vince pouted and Max chuckled.

"Yep, that one. I can't do anything if Leo likes me more."

Vince let out a huff, a smile tugging at his lips, "tell Leo he's on my shit list."

"Will do," Max nodded, turning his key and starting his car, to hint at Vince to step back. He didnt.

"Are you sure it's smart to go, you're really looking rather ill..."

"I'm not sick," Max planted his hand on Vin's arm, starting to shove it away from his window, since Vince was adamant on ignoring his subtlety, "lunch didn't agree." A little white lie.

"You had lunch? I didn't see you at the cafeteria-"

"I ate in the classroom, had papers to grade," a second little lie, Max was feeling increasingly frustrated. He wanted to be gone already, he still needed to shower and change, buy the dumb wine Leo wanted. His belly was feeling really unsettled, maybe he could try using the bathroom too, if Vince just got the hint and let him go.

"Are you avoiding me?"

"God, no," Max successfully shoved his arm off his window, "I gotta go."

"Okay," Vince blinked those sad cow eyes of his at him and Max pressed his lips in an unimpressed line. He hated how much of an effect it had.

"I'm not avoiding you, idiot," he shooed Vince, "I am late and gotta go. Scram."

Vince's face got all wrinkly as it opened a lopsided smile and Max shooed him with renewed intensity.

"Have fun at the party," Vin finally waved at him, putting his helmet on as he walked back to his motorcycle.

All the while Max drove back home, his stomach was grumbling and churning, sending up a string of bitter belches that kept fizzing out in the back of his throat.

He bee-lined to the bathroom, once inside his apartment, and collapsed on the toilet, trying to make his stomach feel better. Cold sweat broke over him and Max groaned, rocking back and forth as a bunch of little cramps erupted on his lower belly, but nothing came out. Not even a fart.

He fanned himself, stripping his shirt and throwing it to the side, as he stepped out of his jeans. When he got up, the nausea spiked for a split second, enough he whirled around to gag over the water, but nothing came up.

He took a decently long shower, hoping the warm water might help, then wrapped the towel around his hip and walked into his bedroom.

Jonah had texted him a dress code, just in case Max didn't have enough common sense to know he should be more or less put together to meet Leo's coworkers. It was both offensive and incredibly funny. Max had texted back a thumbs up and a middle finger.

He picked his most plain pair of jeans, not because he wanted to acquiesce to Jonah's wishes, but because those were the only ones that actually closed around his waist. To pair with it, Max dug out a white henley that he was sure belonged to Vince and had no idea how it had ended up in his apartment. It hung very loosely on his frame, which was a relief as any of his shirts for sure would've hugged his bloated belly.

Max combed through his hair, then grabbed his wallet and keys and was out of the door once again, to buy Leo's wine.

"Ooh, thanks," Leo beamed, as soon as he opened the door of his and Jonah's apartment, "you're a life sa- Is that Vin's?"

Dammit.

Max's cheeks burned and he shrugged, "is it?"

Leo squinted at him, seeming puzzled by the shirt, "you tell me..." he walked back into the kitchen and Max followed up until the counter that split his kitchen from the dining room. It had three stools next to it and he perched on one of them, planting his elbows on the counter and staring down at his feet. There was a horrible blubbering happening right under his ribs.

"Are you two hooking up again?"

"What?" Max raised his head quickly, squeezing the counter when it caused him to feel dizzy.

"You and Vince?" Leo had a black apron protecting his baby blue shirt and his sleeves were rolled up. His cheeks were red from the heat coming from the pan and Max's mouth watered at the smell of garlic and onions that raised when the other man started to pour wine inside one of them.

"God, no," he shook his head, "no, it was just lying around my place. McDreamy told me to come dressd up, this was the only shirt I have without skulls on it."

Leo pursed his lips, seeming annoyed, and Max frowned, confused.

"You don't believe me?"

"No, I believe you," Leo shrugged, then beamed as JD came to slither between his legs, "look who crawled out of her hiding space..."

Max tried to ignore the growing unsettledness in his middle, watching as Leo baby talked JD, all the while trying to shoo her away from the kitchen.

He got up, crouching down to let the cat sniff his fingers and then petting her. Max truly did like JD, even if cats weren't his favorite. She was such a beauty queen, blue eyes staring up at him as she plated her front paws on his knee.

"You're so pretty..."

"Oh, hi Max," Jonah said, walking down the hallway, perfume trailing with him. His hair was perfectly styled, the curls popping, and he was wearing a deep maroon button up with dark dress pants, "this smells great, baby-"

"Did you text Max what he should wear?" Leo's voice was clipped and Jonah seemed taken aback. Max moved away from the kitchen floor, bringing JD with him, eyes glued to the couple, "what the fuck, Jon?"

"I was just making sure he didn't turn up looking like he's part of a garage band!" Jonah cried out and Max let out a snort, flipping him off.

"I do not look like I'm part of a garage band."

"So what if he did?" Leo scoffed, "I don't want my friends pretending to be who they aren't."

"You're making a big deal out of nothing, baby," Jonah pressed a kiss to Leo's temple, chuckling when the blonde promptly shoved him off by the stomach, "Max isn't offended."

"Yes, I am," Max smiled from ear to ear and Jonah glared him to pieces.

"That's not the point," Leo pouted, then popped something in the oven and set up the timer, "don't do this again."

"I won't," Jonah vowed, while Max tried his best not to laugh.

He moved to the balcony of the apartment in order to smoke, watching as Jonah and Leo bickered and set up the big dining table. He'd never quit smoking if this was the only thing that allowed him some privacy.

Alone in the balcony, he took advantage of the fact the wind was blowing hard and forced out a deep burp. It got muffled by a soft song that was playing inside the apartment and brought a sliver of relief to his stomach. His hand twitched, wanting to clutch his sore abdomen. He had no idea how he was supposed to have dinner on such an upset stomach.

"Put that out," Leo poked his head outside, glaring at Max's cigarette, "they're here."

The first one to arrive was Dean, a coworker of Leo's whom Max vaguely recalled seeing at the wedding. He was tall and skinny, with brown hair and pale skin, really brown round eyes and covered in moles.

Definitely the clown of the outfit, as he had brought over not only a bottle of wine as a bottle of José Cuervo tequila, which made Jonah's nose wrinkle with distaste and Leo snort.

"How are you doing, man?" Dean squeezed Max's hand, all smiles.

After Dean arrived, it was Sandy. She was gorgeous and Max thought it was very funny it hadn't occurred to Leo to mention one of his coworkers was a smokeshow and single. Leo probably had completely forgot that Max was into women as well.

Either way, not only he was feeling too crappy to flirt, but Sandy and Dean immediately were giggling together, teasing Leo about the table setting and the fact he had gone all out, and Max got it.

He was lurking near the couch, as glasses were passed around, trying his best to be participative on a small conversation that had started about travelling when the door opened again and in came Wendy.

Max's heart skipped three whole beats, so badly that he choked on air and when he tried to catch his breath he ended up burping in his glass. Dean, standing next to him, chuckled and patted his back.

"You good?"

"Yeah, sorry-" Max tuned him out completely, taking Wendy in.

Things hadn't been awkward between them since the breakup, because things had been nonexistent. Ever since he had moved out, Max hadn't seen Wendy even once.

After he had signed his lease, a couple days before the breakup, he had very little to pack at Wendy's place and he had left on the day after the final blow. Ever since, they hadn't crossed paths.

She looked... Different. Skinnier, much skinnier, but still just as beautiful. Wendy was clad in a mossy green mini dress that made her eyes pop and her hair was ruffled and messy, waves falling over her face.

They locked eyes and her face turned into that strawberry shade he loved, eyes widening. She turned to the side, a little frantic and then Jonah blocked his view by stepping in front of Wendy.

"I'm so sorry," Leo whispered, spawning from the ground next to him and causing Max to jump. Dean threw them a funny look, smiling, "I had no idea Jon had invited her, otherwise I'd have told you."

"It's fine," Max forced out, past the lump in his throat. There was something burning in his stomach, bile or anger or longing.

"I'm sorry," Leo whispered again, then perked up as two other people walked inside the apartment.

"Oh Chuck's here!" Dean announced, causing Sandy to slap his arm in a fond way.

"Do you always gotta be so loud?"

Chuck was stripping his jacket and taking his wife's as well. He was a shorter guy, shorter than Max, with a stocky build and longish brown hair, warm brown skin and almond eyes. In front of him there was a woman, dark hair down to her shoulders and two pins holding it back, clad in black skinny pants, over the knee boots and a bright yellow top...

"You!" Emerald exclaimed, circling Chuck and stepping closer. Max' eyebrows jumped, not expecting to be recognized, "it's uhm- Max, right?"

"Have you two met?" Leo asked, walking closer to plant a kiss on Emerald's cheek, both coats now thrown over his arm so he could put it back in the guest room that had been converted into a cloakroom.

"Just in passing," Max smiled, taking her in. She wasn't wearing any makeup and there was a little cut on her cheek, "she saved my life."

"I'm known for doing that, yeah," Emerald grinned at his overt exaggeration, "I take it she liked the flowers?"

From the corner of his eye, Max could see Wendy had moved from her frozen position by the door and was now being introduced to Chuck by Jonah.

"She loved them," Max nodded, "although I think she liked the gift card more."

"Who did you get flowers for?" Leo sounded confused and Max opened his mouth to answer, but got interrupted by Emerald exclaiming:

"Oh my God! Wendy, right?"

"Damn, I think this is Em's dinner party now," Chuck laughed, while Wendy blushed, leaning in to greet the other woman.

"How did you two meet?" Jonah voiced Max's thoughts.

Wendy shrugged, eyes downcast and none of that social butterfly Max knew she could be, while Emerald was blissfully unaware as she said, "she helped my friend out the other day. Did he ever say thank you? Because really, thank you. Chris can be such a pain, but he was in no shape to be alone, I'm so glad you stepped up."

Who the fuck was Chris?

Max frowned, wanting to grill Wendy, but Jonah thankfully beat him to it by saying, "Lavin? Chris Lavin? What- When-"

"It wasn't a big deal," Wendy finally spoke up, seeming uncomfortable, "Chris was sick as hell while in the same restaurant as me and I just helped him to his apartment, that's all."

"You're underselling yourself," Em scoffed, "other people would've ignored it."

Wendy's cheeks were crimson at the compliment, while Jonah still had his eyebrows raised in disbelief. Max just didn't like being out of the loop.

"Wait, Chris we met at your place the other day? The one with the eyebrows?" Dean asked and Emerald nodded eagerly.

"Yep!"

So they were all friends, uh?

Max's eyes moved from Wendy, to Leo, who seemed to be struggling to understand something, eyes shining as he pieced things together. It was quite a sight, Max had to admit, observe Leo use that analytical brain of his.

Nevertheless, he didn't seem to reach any conclusion and soon they moved away from the topic as the timer went off in the kitchen and Leo urged everyone to sit down.

Max didn't want to sit down. Not only because he had been more or less able to ignore the bloating while standing and certainly wouldn't be when sitting down, but also because through sheer luck Wendy ended up next to the only empty seat, which obviously was his.

Trying not to show his hesitance, Max sat down next to her and pointedly avoided looking at her, as Wendy did the same.

"So," Emerald was sat in front of him, averting her eyes from where Leo, Chuck and Dean bickered, "what do you do, Max?"

"I'm a teacher," he answered, then squirmed on his seat as the pants started cutting him in half. He slid a finger between it and his bloated belly, curling the fabric of the shirt around his thumb and shoving it in the little gap. It didn't make it any looser, but at least there weren't the sharp jeans edge against him.

Emerald was still watching him, probably waiting for him to elaborate. Shit. He was no good at small talk, "uhm- At Welton Hall? I teach Chemistry and Biology."

"Ooohohoh," Em perked up with a chuckle, which caused Max to look at her puzzled and Chuck, who had been overhearing their conversation, to lean in and explain.

"Em is a scientist herself," he said, looking lovingly at his wife, "she collects nerds like she collects rocks, be careful."

"I'm not a nerd," Max mumbled, but he was smiling. Next to him, Wendy let out a little huff. So much for not paying attention, uh?

"He went aaaall out," Dean's voice cut through their conversation, overjoyed, "I didn't know you knew how to cook like that!"

"It's not that hard to make ossobuco," Leo scoffed, "I know how to read a recipe, that's all."

"Dean can't relate, he doesn't know how to read," Sandy teased him, causing the other man to let out a dramatic shriek and clutch at his chest.

"Sandra! You wound me!"

Max snorted, caught Em's eyes and she wasn't looking at the end of the table, instead she was studying Wendy as if the other woman was a bug under a microscope. It made something protective and ugly stir in Max's stomach, but he gulped it back down. He was all over the place.

"What even is ossobuco?" Max asked, which he immediately regretted, as Leo decided right then and there that Max needed to be the first one to taste.

Ossobuco apparently was a piece of steak that still had the shin bone in the center of it. It was slow cooked with a bunch of vegetables, red sauce and wine and served with some sort of gooey yellow thing that Max poked at, suspicious.

His stomach stirred and the last thing he wanted was to take a bite, but there were seven pairs of eyes on him and well...

"It's really good," Max mumbled, although he was barely chewing. He gulped it down, took a sip of water to rid his mouth of the taste. It was watering for all the wrong reasons.

"If it's Max approved, then I've won the night," Leo beamed, then started plating the rest of his guests. He seemed to be over the moon, Jonah apparently more than happy just starring at Leo and making sure no glass was ever empty.

"That's polenta," Wendy leaned in to whisper to him, as Max poked the yellow mass once more. He couldn't stop eating so early in, but the meat was completely out of question. Just the smell of it was making him want to gag, "its basically just corn meal porrigdge."

He turned to look at her, not realizing Wendy would be that close and his nose nearly brushed with hers, causing her to jump back. There were golden flecks all over her lids and he could tell part of her pink cheeks was actually makeup. She looked terribly pale underneath all that.

"Hi," Max said and Wendy opened a tentative little smile.

"Hi," she gestured to his plate, "polenta should be safe."

Yeah, not tonight. Not even rice would be safe, he felt like an over inflated balloon. His belly let out a growl, he squirmed once again to try and find a comfortable position.

"Thanks," Max nodded, let his eyes linger. He had forgotten how pretty Wendy was, "uhm- How are you...?"

"Fine," she said a little too quickly, pushing her fork around, "you think we could talk?" her voice was hardly a whisper and Max nodded, gestured to the balcony with his head.

"Smoke break in a bit."

Wendy's lip upturned as she nodded, "you really have got to quit that."

"Yeah yeah yeah," Max waved her off, attention returning to his dish.

He could tell Emerald was incredibly interested in the two of them. If it was out of genuine desire to meet new people or just curiosity, Max didn't know, but the woman kept asking them questions all throughout dinner.

She also was an open book, volunteering any information. Apparently she worked in the city hall, was a geologist and a transplant in Welton.

"So are both of us," Wendy said, gesturing to Max and her and it made something flutter in his stomach. A passing reference to why he had moved to Welton in the first place.

Nowadays it seemed like forever ago, but it wasn't, not really.

"I moved here in 23, Max just got here at the start of the semester."

"Oh, where are you from originally?"

Emerald herself was from Michigan. Her family- Max completely tuned her off, because his stomach chose this moment to flip. He pulled back hastily from the table, mumbling an "excuse me."

Hopefully the rest of them were too enthralled with something else to notice him.

Max abhorred the fact that the guest bathroom was so close to the dining room. A belch escaped as he undid his jeans and sat down on the toilet, so gross and frothy that he quickly leaned to the side to grab a trashcan.

Some reddish saliva fell on top of the papers and he squeezed his eyes shut-

The music turned a little louder.

God bless Leo Wagner-Banks.

His intestines gave out.

Max's eyes prickled with tears as the cramps wrecked his body, knuckles curling around the edge of the bin as the nausea increased and then receded, increased and the receded....

He felt so so sick. More saliva flooded his mouth and he spat in the bin, working up a frothy burp in an weak attempt to get some relief. His stomach muscles were exhausted from the cramping and he felt weak and humiliated.

Max rubbed a hand over his face, putting the bin down and closing his eyes, tipping his head back against the flush. He crossed his arms and under them, he could just feel his stomach gurgling and churning.

He muffled another burp, staring at the ceiling.

"I'm not puking," he whispered to no one, trying to make it a reality. His stomach whined, loud enough Max managed to hear over the music. More cramping and more diarrhea. His throat bobbed up and down as another wave of nausea washed over him. His mouth tasted like rotten wine.

"Not puki'-" He couldn't even finish his chanting, his mouth struggling to shut. A chill went up his spine, on Max was too familiar with, "ah fuck," he grabbed the trashcan from the floor, hugging it to his chest just as his dinner came up.

Ossobuco sucked, Max decided, as more red sludge fell inside the bin and his whole body shuddered. His belly was taut and painful. He wanted to lie down, get out of these clothes...

There was a knock on the door, soft and barely there, "Max?" Leo's voice travelled, "dude?"

"I'll be right out..." He gulped down, his voice hoarse.

It wasn't right out, because it took him forever to clean up and by the time Max did stumble out of the bathroom, his face was dampen after having just washed it on the sink and he knew there was no way he'd be able to feign normalcy for the rest of the dinner.

Leo wasn't right in front of the door, thank God, but he caught Max's eyes as soon as he stepped out.

Dean was keeping most of the conversation, which Max very thankful for. He kept his eyes on the ground and pretended he couldn't feel everyone looking at him-

Wendy's hand found his thigh, as soon as he sat down. Leaning into his space, "are you ok?"

He nodded, but Max knew he had to get going. His reprieve wouldn't be long lived.

Wendy frowned, thinking his answer over.

Emerald, sitting in front of them, was carefully pretending she wasn't overhearing every word. Max planted an elbow on the table and cradled his face. He needed to go home now, if he infected Leo's guests with a flu, Leo would never forgive him.

"I think I gotta go."

"Okay," Wendy nodded, "I'll drive you."

It wasn't exactly an offer, more of an order, but fuck if Max wasn't thankful. Awkwardness and conflict aside, this still felt like Wendy. Wendy who had seen him sick before, who had seen him naked before. He felt comfortable with her and, perhaps some sort of betrayal to the others, he still trusted her.

"Okay."

They both got up and Max didn't really have it in him to say goodbye to all of Leo's coworkers, so he just walked to the front door, watching as Wendy moved through the whole lot of them and did it for the both of them.

Probably for the best, he had no idea if he was contagious or not.

"I can drive Max, you stay and enjoy the party," Jonah offered, walking alongside Wendy, her coat thrown over his arm. Only then did Max realize he had never stripped his brown jacket.

Maybe he was feeling worse than he had realized.

"No, it's all fine, Jon," Wendy tiptoed to press a kiss on his cheek, wiping away the bright red mark, "thank you for having us."

"Of course," Jonah smiled at her and when he did look at Max, his smile was oddly genuine, "feel better, Max."

"Thanks," he smiled back, ignoring the horrible nausea already starting to mount once more, "tell Leo I'm really sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for, he'll be more pissed you jeopardized your health than anything else," Jonah waved him off, "I gotta head back, safe drive."

They waved and walked out of the apartment.

"Keys," Wendy stretched out her hand and Max promptly dropped his car keys on it, quietly walking alongside her as they left the building through the garage.

His white pick-up was parked near the park that was right in front of the building and Max shivered violently. Was the night really cold or was he running a fever?

He sat collapsed on the passenger seat, watching wordlessly as she fiddled with his driver seat in order to fit her.

Max' stomach rolled and he muffled a burp in his hand, leaning his head back with a groan. He could feel a pressure at the base of his throat, a heaviness to his jaw that he knew well.

"Can we just go?"

"Sorry," Wendy mumbled, moving hastily and strapping her seatbelt, starting to drive, "are you sick or is this something else?"

"Cursed," Max groaned, eyes still squeezed shut. Wendy didn't laugh, not understanding it had been a joke, "I have no idea, my stomach's a mess, but I'm also really cold-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence before Wen's knuckles were brushing against his cheek, the back of her hand pressing to his forehead, "I don't think you have a fever, you seem overheated, but not overtly so."

"Hmmm," he curled an arm protectively against his belly as the car swayed a little bit with Wendy's movement. A burp gurgled up and Max blew it off under his breath, shuddering as he could taste dinner.

He tugged on the front of his shirt as the warmness started to spread, burning his stomach. Max fished a plastic bag out of his glovebox, glad that he kept his car stockpiled for all belly related issues. The perks of having the most little bitch stomach of all time.

"Should I pull over?" Wendy asked, noticing as he opened a plastic bag on his lab.

Max shook his head, digging into his side, "n'uh- Not yet..."

The nausea was present, of course, but not tipping him over the edge just yet. He pressed his forehead to the dashboard, taking slow breaths, "so..." Max let out a little burp at the end of his sentence, "you wanted to talk alone..? We're alone."

Wendy let out a humorless huff, "not how I envisioned this happening."

Max snorted, opened the glovebox again in search of his bottle of pepto, "start talking, Wen."

There was a split second of silence, interrupted by his stomach letting out a nasty growl. They stopped at a red light, his hand closed around the plastic bottle but when Max raised it he realized it was empty. Great.

"I just- I wanted to apologize..."

"Oh, I heard you're doing the shame rounds," Max teased her, rolling down his window even though it was a pretty chilly night, "you don't have to apologize, Wendy."

"No, I do," she glared at him, "I do. I made you uproot your life, I caused this big disaster and then I left you in the middle of it, with no support whatsoever, not a care about your feelings. If there's one person I need to apologize to, it's you."

"I'm not a child, Wendy," Max rolled his eyes, rubbing his face, "you didn't make me move here, I wanted to. I'm happy I did, I love my job here, I'm making friends... Well friends that I don't wanna fuck," he pointed out with a sly smirk and it caused a tiny smile to tug at her lips, he counted it as a win, "I've got a place that's not super cramped and dark, I have a pet... I'm happy. If anyone got left in the nuclear waste, that was you."

"Well, I caused it, so..." Wendy shrugged and Max's stomach curdled with despair when he realized he could see her collarbones now. She wasn't skin and bones, far from it, but the plumpness he loved was gone, her cheeks sucked in, her eyes surrounded by dark circles that no amount of makeup could conceal.

"You did," Max agreed, "but I-" he got interrupted by his stomach spasming, a sudden wet burp causing him to fold and gag over the bag. All thoughts vanished, his stomach squeezed again and a mouthful of red sludge fell in the plastic bag. It hurt, was too chunky.

He gagged again and again, blindly reaching to get rid of his seatbelt as it squeezed his middle and when Max thought he might pass out from all the heaving, it eased up, the glitters in his sight vanishing.

The blonde bunched up the top of the bag, leaning his head back and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. All his limbs were heavy, he was dizzy and spent.

"Are you done?" Wendy's voice was gentle and he felt her thumb stroke his cheek. Max let out a deep sigh.

"For now..."

"Give me the bag, I'll dispose of it and get you some water."

He opened his eyes, confused, and realized they were parked in front of a gas station, with a convenience store attached.

"Do you need anything else? More pepto?" Wendy asked, gesturing to his empty bottle. Max nodded, regaining some of his dignity and will, and patted his pockets.

Shit, he had left his cigarettes at Leo's.

"Can you buy me a pack of camels? I left mine at Leo's."

Wendy scrunched up her nose in distaste, but she nodded, "yeah, be right back."

As soon as she was done, taking the now tied sick bag with her, Max got out of the car. He leaned heavily against it, spitting the awful taste in his mouth on the tarmac and enjoying the cool air, instead of the car's stuffy one.

His head was pounding, he could feel a vein pulsating on his forehead, and his stomach was still testy with nausea and sore as if he had done a thousand abdominals. Still, Max felt better than he had five minutes before.

"Here," Wendy handed him the whole plastic bag and he fished through it. Pepto, a bottle of water, chewing gum, a pink lighter and camels. She had gotten the type right too, camel blues. It brought the conversation they were having back to his mind.

"Thanks," he gulped down the water, thumping his chest to work up a burp, then opened the pack and lit up a cigarette, expecting Wendy to wave her hand dramatically in front of her face.

Instead, she jumped up to sit on the hood of his car and patted his arm, "gimme one?"

Max's eyebrows raised all the way to his hairline, "a cig?"

"Yes," Wendy seemed confused by his confusion, looking at him expectantly. He scrambled, fished out a cigarette and passed it to her, then lit it up as Wendy put it between her lips and leaned in to touch the tip of it to the flame. She did that too well.

"Were you a smoker?"

"When I was a teen," Wendy took a drag slowly, holding it in, but coughing lightly as she let the white smoke out, "then later it became just when stressed... Then I quit completely a little after I moved here."

Max hummed, planting his elbows on the hood, "I smoke since I was fifteen."

"That's nothing to gloat about," Wendy huffed, her knee touching his elbow as she pushed him in a playful manner, "are you actually happy? Or are you just saying that?"

"No, I am," that came out so easy, he was shocked by it, "I'd do it again, even if I knew- I'd do it all again, Wendy. Yeah, you were a bitch, but I forgive you."

She smiled, "you're too nice, Max."

"That's a first," he chuckled, "normally it's people calling me a dick..." He turned to look at her, draped an arm over her lap since she was taller than him sitting on top of the hood, "are you okay, Wendy?"

She opened her mouth to answer, then hesitated, and just shrugged, "I'm... You know, figuring it out. I've talked with you, Bella and Vince, so that's a relief, some closure... But now-" she picked on the skin of her thumb and Max frowned, planted his hand over hers to stop her from doing it.

"I missed you, Wendy."

Her eyes darted up, meeting his, the really? so clear in them that it was painful. Max nodded, "yes. Really."

Wendy didn't bother hiding her smile, she touched the tip of her cig against his in a little cigarette kiss and took a drag, "I missed you too, Max... I messed up, I became such a bully... "

"You're not the only one who's messed up in the past," he shrugged, wanting to tell her to not think that everyone else was such a saint and beat herself up.

Wendy nodded, eyes downcast and rolling the cigarette between her fingers, "I know."

Max let out a frustrated groan, feeling like his words weren't getting through her, "can I see you again? I know things won't go back to the way they were but we can be friends, can't we?"

Wendy's eyes searched his face, seeming a little hesitant, "what about Vince-"

"He wouldn't care and even if he did, I don't care," Max said, then let out a groan as his stomach cramped and squeezed his eyes. When he opened then again, Wendy had regained some of herself, she stood a little taller.

"Yes, we can hang out," she patted his cheek, "now let me drive you home."

He had seen her from the corner of his eye, opening and closing her mouth as if she had wanted to say something but ultimately opted not to. Wendy frowned, then let out a sigh and slumped against him once more, "I don't either. I'll get us some wine to celebrate, since he'll definitely get it."

His heart had squeezed in his chest, a lump in his throat as Vince thought this was just something else he loved about Wendy. Her unwavering faith in all of them, optimism that wasn't idealistic or naïve, but a strong willed choice in face of obstacles.

"C'mere," Vince had whispered, wrapping his arms around her middle and sliding down on the couch, so Wen had been draped fully over him, "cuddle me."

Now, looking at Max's sweaty, sickly face, Vince felt with lurching clarity that those feelings had been no passing notion. All that he had avoided since the dream, little moments from their year together collaging into a bigger picture, and all the lies Vin had been telling himself, came to a halt as he cupped Max's face on the side of the road. Sharing a goofy smile, Max's chin in his hand, blonde hair falling over his honey colored eyes, recognition clear in his feverish gaze.

Vince wasn't daft. He might not be the most observant person, but he'd have to be blind and deaf in order not to know of Max's crush on him, even before the blonde had confessed to his feelings. Hell, not only with him, Vince had seen just how wistfully Max looked at Wendy too. Not jealousy, but yearning.

That wasn't new, what was new was that Vince realized he reciprocated those feelings and now what the fuck was he supposed to do with himself? All those speeches about cheating and a lifetime of promises he had told Wendy, suddenly Vin felt like it was all slipping through his fingers.

"Better, let's go," Max nodded, then his smile got mischievous despite the nausea clear on his face, "we can't leave our girl waiting."

Vince nodded back, smile etched on, even as his mind screamed at him. Instead of letting go of Max's face, he ran his thumb over his lips, wiping away the saliva glistening them, thoughts running circles and short circuiting as conflict overwhelmed him.

Our girl. Fuck.

He pulled back his hand as if it was burning, causing Max to nearly fall off the car and let out an offended whine, "dude, what the fuck!?"

"Sorry, sorry!" Vince chuckled, nervousness causing his voice to climb higher, as he closed the space between them once more, grabbing Max's arms and manhandling him back on the seat, "let's go," he slammed the door shut.

Vin wasn't even ashamed to admit just how glad he was that Max was far too sick and overwhelmed to really get a read on him. Max was one of those people who could smell insecurity. Perhaps it was a trait of all bullies to find the thing you had been praying no one noticed and then land a cutting remark on it, without even having to try.

"Ugh..." Max breathed out as Vince parked inside his building's garage, next to Wendy's car, since he had moved his motorcycle to free up the spot, "I feel gross."

"You don't look all that much better," Vince teased, feigning an ease he didn't feel, hands itching to touch the other man. He reached in, planting a hand to Max's sweat drenched back, feeling the heat radiating from him, "let's get you lying down, c'mon."

Max was boneless. Wobbly knees causing him to collapse into Vince's arms, a soft moan springing out as he buried his nose against Vin's jacket, "gon'puke on you..."

"Try not to," Vince sighed, pressing the 6th button, but not moving an inch away, instead wrapping an arm around Max's back to support him, "we're almost there."

A shiver went down his spine at Max's line, though, which was outlandish because illness had never turned him on before. Definitely not with his friends and family, not even with Wendy. With his girlfriend, being the sick one could be thrilling, landing him a comforting combo of intimacy and sensuality, but when she was the one sick, all Vin ever felt was worry... He had never been in the other side of the kink until now.

It felt like a betrayal to be feeling like this towards Max. A level of intimacy too deep, he might as well be french kissing the guy at this point.

"Vince?" Wendy's voice came from the bedroom as he pushed the door of their apartment open with his back, arms too busy keeping Max up, "Max? Are you guys home?" drifting closer, then she appeared out of the hallway, freshly showered, still toweling off her hair, "aww, I thought you'd take longer- Uh, Max?"

"Hi gorgeous," Max forced a strained smile at her, "I'm gonna puke on your cute rug."

Wendy's eyes widened, blinking owlishly, darting to Vince in search of an explanation, only for him to look away from her because apparently Max hadn't been joking, since he braced against his knees and retched.

"Cazzo," Vince hissed, nearly pulling Max off his feet as he forced the man to stand up straight, "hold on hold on hold on-"

They tried to shuffle past Wendy — frozen on the spot, green eyes wide and mouth hanging open, towel forgotten on her hand —  but Max's stomach had other plans and his feet refused to move, knees fully buckling. He wrapped an arm around his belly, heaving once more, loudly, and it snapped Wendy into action.

"Here, here-" she skipped closer, meeting them almost at the bathroom door, just in time to hold the towel she had been clutching right under Max's chin and catch a dribble of bile. Vince winced at the intensity of Max's heaves, using his free hand to push his blonde hair back, the other arm wrapped around his back and keeping him from going fully down.

"Oh sweetheart," Wendy cooed, studying Max's face, "so much for celebrating, uh?"

"M'sorry," Max slurred, belching up a bigger mouthful of something chunky, "gross..."

"No, you're not," Wendy scolded him gently, then glanced up to meet Vin's eyes, cheeks turning pink, "uh- Bathroom?"

"Bathroom," he agreed, feeling a weird flutter in his stomach that he couldn't quite pinpoint. A cross between amusement and jealousy and just confusion. He could tell that Wen's careful doctor persona was fully shattered, excitement barely concealed in her eyes.

All three of them stumbled forward, a clumsy job as Max continued to gag and Wendy's hands were both busy holding the towel and containing the mess, Vince the only thing keeping Max up and walking.

"Oh'thank'gd-" Max groaned as the toilet came in his line of sight, mustering up the rest of his energy just so he could brace against it, arms wrapping around the porcelain.

Wendy stumbled back just in time to avoid him jerking forward, dropping the ruined towel inside of the bathtub and all but falling to her ass as she did that all in one motion, "Ow?!"

"Sor-ERUhgjek-" Max tried, and failed, to apologize, back arching as he retched more violently than before and projectile vomited in the bowl, face turning pink with effort. He panted, a line of spit hanging from his bottom lip and Wendy shuffled closer, cupping his forehead with a hand, helping him support it.

"You're okay, honey, get it up," she cooed, free hand rubbing Max's back and Vince felt something weird curl in his own stomach. His mouth tasted bitter, he didn't know what to do with himself. Honey.

Wendy raised her eyes to look at him, over Max's head, "he's burning up..."

"I know," Vince snapped out of the jealousy induced dissociation, crouching down next to the pair, "I don't think he can keep anything down though..."

"Help me strip him," Wendy bossed, just as Max let out a noncommittal grunt, probably just trying to remind them that he was right there, even if he was a boneless mess.

Max was sick and Vince felt like a creep as he stripped him down, fingers making quick work of his button up. His mind kept driving stupid comparison's, how platonic and mechanically he could strip his friends down and how horribly intimate it felt with Max. How much of not a friendship this was.

The blonde didn't have a wifebeater under his button up —  of course, why would he? — and Vince forced his eyes away from his sweaty chest, the tattoo wrapping around his bicep and coming all the way down to Max's wrist, the way his normally flat stomach was pressing painfully against his social pants, belt squeezing him.

Wendy undid his belt, then Max's fly, pushing the pants down his thighs so Vince could pull them out completely and leave the other man in just his boxers. It shouldn't be hot, not when Max was not aware at all of what was happening, and Vin's ears burned with shame, pointedly avoiding Wen's eyes as just the way she undid Max's belt buckle was enough to make his mind race.

"Vin?"

"Is he-" His throat was dry and Vince shook his head, starting a senseless phrase just to buy himself time, "is he gonna be okay?"

Of course he would, it was just the flu. Vince was the one who was not okay, not remotely so.

"Of course," Wendy smiled at him, then gestured to the hand towel, "run that under the water for me?" she lowered her voice, now speaking to the man between them, "Max, honey, are you with us?"

A grunt answered her, Vince wet the hand towel then splashed some cold water on his face too, to regain his focus. Max was sick, Wendy was just doctoring him, what she always did to any of their friends. He needed to get his shit together.

"Ookay," Wendy snatched the humid towel out of Vince's loose grip, sparring him an exasperated glare for taking too long, before wiping it across Max's face, cleaning up his mouth and chin and pressing it to his brow, "are you done?"

"Wheressssin?"

"Vin is right here," Wendy stroked Max's cheek, "how's your stomach, Max?"

"Fan-fucking-tastic," Max sounded slightly more aware as he pushed away from the toilet, putting a little too much force in his impulse and nearly falling back, wasn't it for Vince cushioning the back of his head before he could hit the wall, "oh hi..."

"Hi," Vince rolled his eyes, catching Wendy snickering at them, "you're boiling, think you can take a cool shower?"

"Gon' join me?" Max said, but what really took Vince out wasn't the flirty jab, but the fact that Max glanced between him and Wendy to imply he meant either one of them could join him and Wendy's face turned that delicious pink shade that Vin had thought was exclusive to him up until this moment.

So they were all messed up, uh?

"You're ridiculous, Daniels," Wendy scolded, although she was grinning, "let's get him in bed, he can shower later."

"He's right here," Max scoffed, head lazily lolling so he could press his cheek to the inside of Vin's wrist, since he still had a hand on the back of Max's head.

"Vince?" Wendy frowned at him, snapping Vin back into his senses, "are you okay? You're looking kinda green too, hon..."

Max's brows met, feverish eyes scanning Vince's face, trying to make sense of the situation, "you're sick too...?"

"Nope," Vince shook his head, looping his arm around Max's back and pulling them both up, "c'mo-OW!" He let out a shout as the blonde's knees tricked them, holding steady for one second only to collapse next.

Max let out a groan, whole face pinching with pain and Vince promptly pushed his swirling thoughts away. Max was sick, actually properly sick, burning up and he had just puked up his guts. He needed to be in bed.

The blonde was too dizzy —  vertigo assaulting him at the quick change of positions — to make sense of Vin wrapping his arms around his neck and lifting him bridal style.

He wasn't as heavy as Lucas was, but nowhere near as light as Wen was and Vin let out a huff, jostling Max in order to fix his hands and causing him to let out a nauseated burp.

"What-what are you....?"

"Wen?" Vin's voice was strained, but Wendy understood without him needing to finish the sentence, ducking under his arm and rushing ahead of them, in order to open the bathroom door all the way, the bedroom door and pull back the covers in the bed.

Max sunk into the pillows with a moan, rolling onto his side and wrapping an arm around his tender stomach. Wendy promptly took a spot next to him, sitting in the small space created by him curling up, and brushing his hair back.

He forced his eyes open, searching Wendy's face and opening a tired smile at her, "got the job, beautiful."

"Of course you did," Wendy rolled her eyes, leaning in with a smile as if they were sharing an inside joke, "too bad you're too sick for us to celebrate."

"Eh, I could have a glass of champagne or two, I was gonna end up puking anyway," Max joked, voice raspy, although his eyes fluttered shut. Vince snorted at the joke, crossing his arms to his chest and leaning against Wen's dressing table, quietly chewing on the facts.

Max harbored feelings for both him and Wendy, that was obvious. Wendy reciprocated, maybe, probably...? And Vince himself... Hell, he certainly couldn't say he didn't reciprocate, but were they mutual? He wasn't sure.

"Hey," Wendy whispered and Vince's head snapped. Max was soundly asleep, breathing through his mouth and snoring softly. Muscles all relaxed and skin glistening with sweat. Wendy raised a quizzical eyebrow at his startle, "let him rest for a bit."

He nodded, eyes still lingering on Max... Max, lying on Vin's side of the bed. An arm curled under his pillow, not looking one bit out of place. Vince followed Wendy out of the room and she headed first to the guest bathroom, sorting through the mess, passing Max's ditched clothes to Vin's arms.

Vince made tea, while Wendy put the clothes in the washing machine, and then hugged him by the middle as Vin leaned against the kitchen sink, staring at the ground.

She didn't say anything, which was unnerving, because Vince knew that was just her tactic to make him spill out the beans and the worst part was that it always worked, "he got the job."

"I know," Wendy shifted, pressed her cheek to his chest, "are you surprised?"

"No," Vince lowered his hand to her back, hugging her back, "...He's gonna move here."

No answer. She was gonna make him spell it out, dammit.

"I don't know what we're-" Vince cringed, bit his tongue, "I don't know what I'm doing, Wendy-" Shit.shit.Shit.Shit.SHit- This was as much of a confession as his brain would allow and it turned his stomach. If Wendy accused him of emotional cheating, she wouldn't be wrong. He felt sick, trying to gulp down the knot in his throat.

"Fuck me if I know either, Vin," Wendy huffed, pulling back so she could look him in the eyes and Vince hesitated, part relief, part conflict. Had she understood what he meant? That he wasn't sure what to do with himself because of those fucking feelings...?

"I meant-"

"I know what you meant," Wen pressed her cheek back to his chest, leaning into his arms, "I know."

"I'm so sorry, honey," Vince said hastily, "I don't know- Nothing ever happened- Nothing will happen, I swear. Nothing, I'm not-"

"Vince," Wendy cut him off, "stop."

He snapped his mouth shut, held his breath as he waited for her to speak again. Down the hallway, Max was sleeping the flu away, blissfully unaware of Vince losing his mind over him and the nuclear discussion this actually was, even if they were calm and whispering.

"I don't know what we're doing either," Wen sighed, shrugging, fiddling with the neckline of his sweater, "I wish I could tell you, Vin, but I'm just as lost..."

"I'm asking Max to uproot his entire life and I'm just so confused... I'm an asshole."

Wendy wrinkled her nose at him, rolling her eyes, "make that both of us then, because I don't want him in Doveport either. I want him here..." she cut herself short, clearly wanting to say more and Vince could almost pick out the words in the air.

There was a noise down the hall, shattering the tension, and Wendy blinked several times, running a hand over her still humid hair, "fuck- You got him? I- I'll go in a second..."

"Yeah, I got him," Vince nodded, pressing a kiss to Wendy's temple and wincing at the distraught look on her face.

Max wasn't in the bed anymore.

Vince's racing thoughts came to a halt at the empty mattress, concern overwhelming everything else, "Max? Max, what-" the bathroom was empty too, much to his chagrin, "fuck... Max, where are you-"

There was a soft hiccup from inside the closet and Vince scrambled two steps back, so he could burst in the tiny room that housed Wendy's hundreds of shoes. Max was down on the ground, seeming confused, clutching the trashcan to his chest, and he raised his head when Vin pushed the door open.

"What the fuck are you doing in the closet...?"

"Thought-" Max's chest jostled with a hiccup and he spat in the trashcan, wincing, "bathroom..."

"Awn, man," Vince sighed, crouching down, "you're still super nauseous?"

A curt nod answered him, Max panting over the bin, "woke up- URergh-'alone..." he thumped his chest, forcing up a wet, frothy burp, "where's- Fuck, my head hurts- Where's Wen?"

"Finishing up in the kitchen," Vince lied, crawling closer so he could wrap an arm around Max's back, "let's get you back in bed..."

"Wa-URuuk-Wait," Max belched up another mouthful of his late lunch, breathing heavily, "hold on... Dizzy," his head leaned back, lolling against Vin's shoulder, "jus'gimme a minute..."

"Okay," Vince squeezed his arm around him, "that's fine, take your time, baby..." then before he could think, he turned his head and pressed a kiss to Max's sweaty brow, much like he had just done to Wen back in the kitchen.

The other man's breath hitched, a little huff shaking him, "baby, uh?"

Vince's face burned and he frowned, glaring daggers at the shoe rack in front of him, "I didn't say that."

"Uh-hu," Max scoffed, "right... Vin?"

"Yeah?" Vince sighed, still pouting, "what is it?"

"I'm moving here," Max sounded astonished, as if it was still news to him, "can you believe I got the job?"

Vince wasn't faking the smile that split his frown down in the middle, walls all but melting at Max's earnest vulnerability. Of course he could believe it, he was going to see Max every day at school, the best of both worlds, Wendy and Max. It made a lump form in his throat, emotions he couldn't name.

Nevertheless, there was nothing to be done. No one he was on speaking terms with knew what had happened, Lois obviously couldn't disclose private information for legal reasons and Banks would rather drink bleach than telling him. What a horrible fate.

He now had two more shifts added to his schedule, much to his annoyance, since Lois had distributed Wendy's hours among the remaining doctors. It made it all seem very... Final.

His boss had said Marshall wasn't fired, nor had she quit, but then why were they giving away her shifts? It was all very suspicious. Chris was on ER duty tonight, which at least kept his mind busy so he wouldn't drive himself insane over the mystery.

He was three hours into it, having just come back from the doctor's lounge after chugging a big mug of coffee, when Chris caught sight of Marjorie, their oldest nurse, struggling with a patient. That didn't normally occur — especially not with Marjorie — but every once in a blue moon, a random man decided he knew better than a licensed professional and acted like a total dickhead. Chris stepped closer.

"Nurse Marjorie, everything alright?"

"Yes, Dr. Lavin," her cheeks were a deep shade of crimson, "I was just telling Mr. Daniels that we cannot let him arbitrarily pick his doctor."

Chris glanced at the man's paper cuff, that had been wrapped around his wrist during trial. Blue, not an emergency, but not something that could be left hours unattended either, like the green cuffs meant. For some reason people thought they could show up to a hospital to see an optometrist? That's what green covered, absolute idiots.

"I'm fine," the patient decided, pushing himself up from the hospital recliner he was stretched on, or rather, attempting to. He was wobbly on his feet, "If Wendy- Dr. Marshall isn't here, I'll just go."

Oh, hell no. There was no way Chris was gonna let this guy walk away now!

"Dr. Marshall?" He voiced, watching as Daniels' head snapped up, "she's not working tonight, but we can take you. You came to the hospital for a reason, what is it?"

The man rolled his eyes, heavy bags under them and chapped lips, he looked pretty miserable, "I'm fine-"

"Lost fluids for over twenty four hours," Marjorie replied, all the more happy to pass the patient to Chris, "vomiting and diarrhea, blood pressure elevated, headache."

Daniels glared at her and Chris grinned, he had all patience in the world to break the spirit of a bitchy patient if needed be.

"Get comfortable Mr. Daniels, you're not going anywhere," he pulled the curtains that separated each cot from the next, giving them a sliver of privacy, "lie back down, please."

Daniels hesitated, looking between the doctor and the nurse, then he jolted with a nauseous hiccup and color drained from his face, making the decision for him.

Automatically, Marjorie pushed an emesis tray into his hands, and Daniels dry heaved over it for a solid minute, but didn't bring up anything other than some saliva and a dribble of bile. His face was pink and lashes clumped together by tears as he attempted to sit up straight, after belching over the slimy mess.

Chris felt a tinge of sympathy, professionalism overriding his inner desire to just interact with this man to extract information. "I got him," he told Marjorie, "can you please prepare him a saline IV? Zofran drip." The woman nodded curtly and rushed away

Daniels let out a groan, an arm wrapped around his stomach, the other hand holding the emesis tray in a shaky hold. "let me take this," Chris unpeeled his fingers from the tray, "lie back down, please."

The patient obeyed and Chris gave the man a minute, watching as he struggled with the nausea. After he settled, Chris moved closer, "I'm going to palpate your stomach, is that alright, Mr. Daniels?"

"Uhm," the man scoffed, "my name is Max."

"Max," not so much a dickhead then, "please roll up your shirt"

Max obliged with an annoyed grunt, "it's really not that bad, I just thought Wendy was here, so might as well-"

"Dr. Marshall took a license," Chris repeated what Lois had said, probably that was shareable information, "I don't know when she'll be back, but you're pretty dehydrated, Max. Let's deal with this n-"

"Wendy took a license?" Max blinked blearily at him.

So clearly this was news to the man. Interesting. Chris shrugged, "as far as I'm aware," he pulled his stethoscope from where it was resting around his neck and gestured for Max to lie flat on the cot, so he could be examined, "are you two friends?"

"Yes," Max volunteered no further information and Chris tsked under his breath, frustrated at the lack of real gossip.

Max obliviousness to the fact Marshall was gone painted two pictures. Either he wasn't as friendly with Marshall as he believed or her departure had been hasty, with no real prep. The second corroborated what Lois had said about a family emergency, but Chris felt like something was iffy about that. Maybe it was fact that this didn't really piece together with how the fellow doctor had been looking like a corpse later, the whole deal with her boyfriend that Chris had more or less puzzled together or maybe it was because he didn't know Marshall had any family.

In the last four years they had worked together, Chris had seen Claire's parents a handful of times, her sister too. He had in passing seen Jonah's now husband, as well as heard gossip about his famous parents, seen his father on TV once as his reality show played in the lounge — which Banks quickly shut down as soon as he found them watching it. Stewart's mother had once come to the hospital for an appendectomy and they still teased the older doctor about how much of a menace the elderly woman had been. Chris' own parents had visited Welton a handful of times, waiting for him on the waiting room as he got off work to take them to dinner. Marshall... He had never seen a soul, except for her boyfriend Tim that one time she had a migraine and he had to come collect her.

It was very weird she'd up and disappear in the middle of the night for a family emergency.

Max squirmed under him, as Chris pressed the stethoscope to the lower left quadrant, auscultating his bowel movements. The upset whining and snarling of the organ probably felt horrendous, but wasn't concerning. The dehydration in the other hand...

"When did the nausea start?"

"Hmmm," Max was pale as a ghost, tugging his shirt back down as soon as Chris was done palpating the quadrants of his stomach to rule out appendicitis or a gall bladder issue, "is today Saturday?"

"Yes," Chris checked his clock, "Saturday, 2 AM."

"Thursday after dinner," the other man shifted suddenly, pressing a hand to his mouth and muffling a thick burp. He looked humiliated by it, Chris sympathized, "thought it was just-" a gulp down, "my normal issues."

Chris frowned, "your normal issues? You have regular stomach issues, Mr- Max?"

A curt nod, Max shuffled on the cot so he wasn't as flat on his back.

"Have you investigated it at all?"

A shrug. Chris barely stopped himself from letting out a frustrated sigh.

"Would you want us to investigate it? Hopefully we can increase your quality of life."

"Yeah, right," Max snorted in disbelief, rolling his eyes. He looked clammy and judging by the nervous bopping of his Adam's apple, Chris reached behind him to grab another emesis tray, pressing it to the other man's hands.

The blonde let out an offended huff, "not gonna-" a gulp, "hurl."

Uh-huh.

"Keep it anyway," Chris stood up straight, pulling back the privacy curtain, "let's get you settled in our IV room and you can probably sleep it off for a couple of hours while the medicine works its magic. I'll come check on you again before my shift is over, Max."

"Thanks..." He didn't sound thankful at all. Chris waved him off, helping the man get down from the cot and then keeping his hands to himself, no matter how slow of a track Max made as they walked to the other room, where there were several reclining armchairs for patients to lie on, with an IV pole next to each, as well as a companionship chair. Daniels was alone, so that didn't matter.

Marjorie was talking to two other nurses, near an empty chair with a full IV bag attached to it, so Chris decided that was the one she had prepared for Mr. Daniels. Assuming he wasn't gonna get any other information form the man, Chris just watched as they hooked the guy up to the IV and then left him alone for the time being.

Hopefully he'd be in a less cranky, more shareable mood once he wasn't dying from dehydration and nausea.

The rest of his shift went without a hitch. Chris was dead on his feet by the time he was doing the check-up rounds and when he went to check on Max, he found out he had company now.

There was a blonde guy sitting next to him, going through his phone, and it took Chris a couple seconds to remember this was Banks' husband, whom he had examined several weeks back when he had had a panic attack that looked like a heart attack.

The guy looked friendly and sunny, reminded Chris of Emerald and made him wonder what did someone like that want with someone like Jonah Banks. Or Max Daniels, by the way, who still sported a cranky frown.

"Hi Max, how are you feeling?" Chris walked closer, checking the nearly empty IV bag, making sure the tag hadn't changed. The head nurse could've added something to it, although they rarely did that without at least letting the in charge doctor know first.

"Less crap," Max's voice was rough, but now he looked sleepy, rather than sick as a dog. He still was very pale, one arm wrapped protectively around his stomach, "thanks, doc."

"Call me Chris," he answered, mimicking the other guy's previous response and Theo (Theo? Was it Theo?) perked up on his seat.

"Can I take him home?"

"As soon as the IV runs out," Chris nodded, "Max, I'm gonna send you home with a zofran prescription, it should really help with the nausea, as well as a referral if you ever want to get those stomach issues investigated."

"No, thanks," Max scrunched up his nose, "no doctor has been any help when it comes to it."

Theo rolled his eyes, "you were a kid, when you last tried. Now it's different. Thanks Dr. Lavin."

Sweet and polite? How did Banks land that?

"Of course, your prescriptions will be with the discharge papers at the front desk."

Theo smiled brightly at him, nodding in thanks, while Max sulked, staring at a wall to avoid his eyes. Sitting side by side like this, both blonde and lean, it made Chris think they looked like siblings. Maybe that was the connection between Daniels and Marshall, given she was Banks' best friend.

Walking was painful, he hadn't had such a sore bellyache in a long while. He moved closer, then grimaced. Although he had washed and separated all the red cabbage leaves, slicing them into little shredded piles for each group, Holly's group had clearly mixed it with too little water and just set the whole thing on burnt goo. He fought the urge to gag.

"Does it look alright, kiddo?" Max forced a smile, turning off the burner and using one of the thick gloves to grab the hot beaker, "you guys need to mix with more water. Fill up about the amount of the flask," he gestured to the glass paraphernalia on top of their counter, "and I'll get you more cabbage."

He took away the gooey burnt mess they had made, dropping it inside the industrial sink in the opposite side of the lab and braced against it for a second. He felt sick, like actually, properly sick.

But there was a class to teach.

The forty remaining minutes dragged. Max couldn't stop glancing at the clock, he wasn't sure if he was going to make it. The cramps were becoming unbearable and he needed a toilet, maybe a bucket too. He needed to go home.

"Hey," Vince's voice pulled Max out of his thoughts and his head snapped up. They weren't not talking, but they weren't quite talking either. Not that Vin was mad, Max was pretty sure he was just embarrassed about the blackout drunk incident and the following conversation, since Vin had asked for some time apart and to get his head straight, making it clear he wasn't going back to the apartment any time soon, "can we talk?"

"Nope," Max was rushing around the now empty lab, or as quickly as his whining gut allowed him, so he could put it all away and get out of there, "need to go home."

"What?" Vin sounded like Max had just kicked him in the balls. The blonde bit down a groan, clutching a counter as another cramp hit him.

"Vince," Max rasped out, "not now."

"What's wrong?" Now Vin sounded more like himself, blocking the whole doorway as he walked further inside, instead of staying in the empty hallway like a kicked puppy, "you're white as a ghost."

"Take a wild guess," Max scoffed, starting to wash the used beakers. Nothing was toxic, so at least he could just dump the colorful liquids down the drain without a second thought.

"You're sick," Vince wasn't asking anymore, nor was he much carrying about the distance between them, "let me- Give me this," he gently, but adamantly pushed Max away from the sink, taking the sponge from him and starting to wash, "food's not agreeing with you?"

Max shook his head, gulping down the slimy saliva flooding his mouth, "I need to get out of here," he couldn't leave Vince behind though, because he was the only one who had the keys of the lab and locking it was his responsibility, "can you lock up for me?"

"And you'll drive?" Vin asked, incredulous, "no, absolutely not. Go sit down, I'll wrap it up real quick and I'll drive you home."

Max wanted to argue. He wanted to say that Vince didn't have to do this — whatever the fuck it was, being all gentle and soft, after asking for some time apart — just because he was sick, that Vin most certainly didn't need to drive him home, where he had sworn off for the time being. Instead he could only say, "please hurry up."

"I am, baby," the pet name fell from his lips, causing Vin's cheeks to redden, but he didn't retract it. Max really hated the fact that he was sick and couldn't properly dissect the other man's behavior. Did he want things to go back to how they were? Was he going to talk with Wendy, take her apology? Had Wendy even properly apologized? Were they all back to dating or still in this horrible limbo, where Max wasn't sure who the fuck he was dating and what to do?

For the past five days, since their chat in the bleachers, Monday morning, Max had given him space. They still exchanged the occasional text and they obviously said hi to each other in the lounge, but Max could tell Vince was a wreck and he was making good on his promise to give him space. Hopefully he hadn't given so much space that he was about to be broken up with.

Wendy had been doing her damn best impression of a ghost. When she wasn't sniffling, she was working, getting some insane hospital hours, and then when he thought things couldn't get more dire, she flip flopped straight into perfectly pleasing and adorable. He didn't know how to deal with that anymore than he knew how to deal with Vince.

It took Vin all of five more minutes to finish cleaning up, then fishing the keys out of Max's trembling hands and locking the lab. They stepped away from each other, even though Max really wanted to lean against Vince. Hell, he wanted to be carried, every step felt like a hot stab to his gut.

"Go to the car," Vince instructed, "I'll get your stuff in the teacher's lounge, I'll meet you there."

Max nodded, rushing out of the school and towards the parking lot. His pickup was parked next to Allie's grey sedan and the English teacher caught up with him, face lighting up.

"Oh, hi, Max!" She perked up and Max could only think of those little dogs, with the long fur pulled up on top of their heads, "I didn't see you all day."

He wasn't sure why she'd have seen him? In the cafeteria maybe? Or the lounge? But they didn't have similar schedules, at least he didn't think so.

"Max?"

"Sorry," he grimaced, "not feeling too hot."

Back in Doveport, he would have never said out loud. He wouldn't have told a different teacher, but then again, in Doveport he didn't hang out with his work colleagues, he didn't go to surprise birthday parties with them and played cards and he most certainly didn't date one of the other teachers.

"Oh no," Allie made a pitiful face, "there's a cold running rampant, you probably caught it from one of the students. Summer colds are the worst."

His stomach churned, greasily, and Max was reminded it was most definitely not a cold, "probably," he lied, then shuddered as another cramp hit him.

Alice eyed him critically, frowning, "are you alright to drive? You're really pale...I can give you a ride."

She was sweet, Max had to give her that. Sweeter than any other teacher, besides Vince, had been with him.

"No, uhm- Monacelli already offered," Max slumped against his still locked car, wanting to wrap his arms around his stomach, "he's getting our bags."

"Oh, okay," Alice opened a relieved smile, unlocking her car and getting in, "feel better, Max!"

"Thanks," he waved to her, then watched, barely holding back a groan, as she drove away. As soon as he was sure she could no longer see him in the rearview mirror, Max hunched over, turning around so he could press his forehead to the white metal and wrap his arms around his stomach. He felt gross. Covered in sweat, gassy, bubbly belly wanting to explode, pressing against his pants and forcing up a little wet belch.

He spat in the gravel, groaning.

The car unlocked with two beeps, startling him, and then Vince was shadowing Max, truly towering over him. He was not that tall, Max thought, forcing himself to straight up from the hunched over position.

"Are you gonna throw up?" Vin asked, opening the passenger door and throwing Max's and his own bag in the slim backseat, then planting a hand on Max's back.

"No- not now..." He gulped down, "other end."

"Oh shit," Vin wrinkled his nose, ushering Max to sit inside the car, "I'll go as fast as I can."

Max slumped inside, curling as Vin shut the door, and pressing his sweaty forehead to the glass. It was cool and nice against his overheated face.

"Seatbelt," Vin said, as he pulled the car from the parking lot. Max glared at him.

"No way," he undid his jeans instead, sliding a hand under the elastic band of his boxer briefs and curling his fingers, cradling the bloated upset. It ushered up another burp, thick and wet.

"Hang in there," Vince took a hand from the steering wheel, planting it on Max's nape and squeezing it, "just a little more."

"Don't know if I'll make it," Max admitted, curling up forward in order to rest his forehead on the dashboard, as his belly let out a series of watery gurgles, physically shaking under his hand. He burped again, mouth filling up spit, "gotta- Gotta spit-"

"Here," Vince grabbed an abandoned coffee cup Max had left in the cup holder, "spit it up."

That was disgusting. It still smelt like the coffee he had that morning and Max suddenly realized that was probably the culprit behind all this. He normally didn't touch this frilly latte shit with a ten feet pole, it was not his style nor was his body able to digest it, but he had been beyond sleepy after spending another night thinking about his conversation with Vin from Monday, if he could even call that a conversation. A quick "I need some time, just let me get my head straight" that was followed by radio silence. Vince was such a fucking asshole.

Max gagged at the smell and at the thought, a stab of guilt hitting him, when Vince rubbed his back in a soothing manner, "tell me if I gotta pull over, okay?"

He worked up another burp, then spat inside the cup, nothing more than frothy saliva. His intestines cramped again, hard enough to cause him to whimper, "fuck, I'm gonna shit my pants."

"Almost there, almost there-"

Max blinked, in surprise, as Vince pulled up inside the familiar garage of his building with Wendy. For a second the blonde had thought Vin was driving him to his hotel room, where he had set temporary camp.

"C'mere," Vince circled the car, opening Max's door and grabbing him, not quite manhandling because he was still gentle, but not allowing Max to linger either, "lean on me."

"I can walk," Max groaned, futile resistance and maybe a little self serving, because he felt a stab of joy as Vin only squeezed him closer.

"Don't be silly," he was carrying both their bags, "just two minutes more."

Max squirmed, all but dancing in one place as he started to feel desperate. He hadn't even bothered to do his jeans back up, nor did he think he could, considering just how domed his belly was. It was making all sorts of horrible noises, cramps making him feel lightheaded.

"Vin," Max groaned, as Vince fumbled with the keys. He still had them, of course, just a week had passed since the fight, but it had been at the bottom of his bag.

"Sorry, sorry- There!" He pushed the door open with a triumphant noise and Max ducked, darting under Vin's arm and straight to the bathroom.

He didn't even bother heading to the suite, entering the powder bathroom and kicking the door shut behind him, shoving his pants down.

The runs left him dizzy and Max leaned back, covered in sweat, struggling to strip his t-shirt. It was his only not band tee and it was slightly too snug, the sensation making him feel claustrophobic.

"Max?" Vin's voice travelled through the door, "you're okay?"

"Ye-eah," Max croaked, clearing his throat and reaching for the trashcan, placing it between his knees just in case, "you can go!"

Preferably before Wendy got home from work and they were in World War 3 all over again.

He heard a scoff and then Vin stepping away from the door.

Max stomach let out a loud, long whine, pulling back his attention and he leaned forward, belching wetly over the bin, while his guts churned and grumbled.

It felt like it went on for forever, but Max felt a smidge of victory at the fact he didn't throw up. He felt hollow and lethargic at the same time, as he flushed several times and then slipped inside the shower, limbs so heavy it was a struggle to wash up. His belly was still sticking out, tender to any touch and he felt dizzy as he wrapped up a random towel around his hip and stumbled out.

"I gotcha, I gotcha," Vin's hands were on him immediately, guiding Max down the hall, "sit down..."

Max grumbled at being treated like a kid, as Vin took the towel from him, sitting behind the blonde and starting to dry his hair, rubbing it on his back and then getting up to retrieve him some sweatpants. He felt so achy, bone tired, and heartbroken that he couldn't properly enjoy this because of the circumstances.

"You wanted to talk...?"

"Not important," Vin crouched down in front of him, tapping Max's knee so he could slide the pants up his legs, the elastic not snapping against his belly and Max realized he was wearing one of Vin's clothes, "don't worry about it."

"I wanna know," Max scoffed, "I'm not a kid, you don't have to protect my feelings," he glared at Vin, who blushed and gave a minimal shrug.

"Really, we can talk later, Max," Vin promised, standing back up and pressing a kiss to the top of his head, "I made you tea, do you think you can drink it? Are you still nauseous?"

"Not too nauseous," Max shook his head, "but it'll probably go right through me."

"That's fine," Vin wrinkled his nose in distaste, "at least you won't dehydrate... Get settled."

Max fell back against the pillows, as Vince retrieved the humid towel and stepped out of the bedroom. Wendy's fabric softener smelt vaguely of lavender, which was also in Vin's aftershave, and quickly becoming Max's favorite smell. He buried his face in the pillow, curling up and wrapping his arms around his stomach.

"Here," Vince said quietly, coming back with a steaming pink mug that made Max snort. Everything was floral and pink in Wen's Polly Pockett mansion.

Max pushed up on the bed, taking the mug and marveling at the sensation. A tiny part of him — the small boy who pushed other kids in the playground and got into fights with the school nurse who accused him of playing up his bellyaches to skip class, who had to endure his father's long silences when picking him up or his mother's annoyed huffs as she questioned what the fuck did you eat? Because it couldn't possibly have been the nut diet she put him on — wanted to stay sick forever, so Vince would dot on him and Wendy would be all sweet like she had been before and all would be fixed.

The tea tasted weird. Minty, but with a sweet after taste. He raised a quizzical eyebrow at Vince, who shrugged, sitting on the edge of the bed and planting a hand on Max's bloated midsection, staring at his stomach with surprising intensity as he rubbed in circles in a soothing manner, "peppermint and honey, it's supposed to help with stomach issues."

"Uhm, I should start drinking it every day then," Max teased, closing his eyes as the belly rub tickled him, "feels nice."

"Yeah?" Vin traced his fingers up and down his sides, "I'm really sorry, Max..."

"Don't," Max groaned, "we're having a great time, please stop apologizing to me."

"We're having a great time?" Vince snickered, chuckling and pressing slightly above Max's belly button, causing the blonde to duck his head and muffle a belch in his hand, "you sure?"

"We're having a great time, given the fact my guts are trying to kill me," Max clarified, rolling his eyes, "don't press, it's super tender."

"Okay," Vin nodded, cheeks all pink and sweet, Max wanted to kiss him. Instead, Vince let out a sigh, continuing the belly rub as he turned to look at Max, "I think I'm gonna ask Wendy for a break."

Max stomach flipped, audibly, causing Vince to frown in concern as the blonde gulped down, curling up, "sorry- Uh- You are...? You guys can't... I don't know, talk about it? She messed up, Vin, but she's really sorry..."

"I know she is," Vince sounded calm, but Max didn't buy it. Maybe he was calm now, but no one who didn't love their girlfriend like hell would crash out like he had at her behavior, "and I'm sorry too... But right now I'm so- Disappointed. Annoyed... And I don't wanna be here like this. I need the time apart, to try to forgive her... And Wen needs to take accountability for her actions, not just apologize to me, but to Bell, to Luke, Leo, Jon... You."

"Me? She didn't do anything to me," Max scoffed, but he already knew Vince was right. That was why just the other day he has snapped at Wendy. She kept apologizing for sticking him in the middle of the fight, but not once she had apologized for using his willingness to cover up for the party, his presence to force Vince to go along with it. Not once she had apologized for acting out, just for the circumstances, as if they were beyond her control.

Vince didn't bother replying, staring at the blanket in a sad manner, so Max took a big gulp of the tea, wishing it was something stronger, and put forward some courage he didn't have, "and me? Are we taking a break? Breaking up...?"

In an ideal world Vince would shake his head in an enthusiastically way and ease all of Max's worries. In reality, he just shrugged, "do you want to? I think it's up to you..."

"What the fuck do you mean it's up to me, I moved towns to be with you two. I think I've made myself plenty clear for at least the next year," Max snapped, his patience running thin, "man up, Vince. You want out or not?"

Vince looked up, startled, then shook his head, slowly, "no... Although it'll probably make your life difficult, stuck between me and Wendy- And she might-"

"Then we're not breaking up," Max decided, talking over him, "I'll figure it out with my girlfriend. That's my problem, I'm not a kid you guys get to fight custody over." And God, he had experience with people using his presence, his issues, as leverage in some fight. It made his skin crawl.

Vince scoffed, retrieving his hand — warm, soothing — from Max's middle and crossing his arms, "can you let me apologize for uprooting your life or are you gonna keep talking over me?"

"Can you get it through your thick head that I did that because I wanted to and I'd do it again or are you gonna keep babying me?" Max bit back, annoyed, and caused a small smile to dance at the corner of Vin's lips, "we'll sort this out, Vince... You and Wendy, you'll- You love each other, I know this. Hell, I spent a year pining over you and watching you two. You'll figure it out and I'll figure out how to date you while you're on break and-" Max interrupted his own reassuring speech, frowning, "are you planning on staying at the hotel until... Uh, indefinitely? You live here."

"No, I'm gonna crash at Luke and Bell's, they got a guest room and don't mind me there," Vince said and Max felt a stab of jealousy. Lucas. Ugh.

"I'm visiting one of the apartments again tomorrow," Max said, "one of Wen's picks, so it already has her seal of approval. If everything goes right, I'm closing on it Monday..." he hesitated, "and if you want, I'd love for you to stay with me instead. It'll probably take about three weeks, but- But if you want, I'd love that."

"Won't that make your life harder?" Vince frowned, "with Wendy...?"

"I can come over here to be with her," Max shrugged, "besides, if it's a break, not a break up, you'll have to see her eventually. You're moving out all of your stuff?"

"No," Vince shook his head, vehemently, "it's a break... I'm not even certain, yet... I just need- To figure out how to forgive her. I'll talk with her tomorrow morning, she agreed to have lunch with me."

"Oh," Max raised his eyebrows, feeling a little self conscious Wen hadn't told him that. Wasn't he her boyfriend...?

"I texted her while you were in the bathroom," Vin filled in, practically reading his mind, and the squeeze in Max's chest eased, "told her you were sick too, so don't even try and pretend you're fine."

"Ugh, snitch," Max rolled his eyes, then put the mug away on his bedside table, muffling another sickly burp in his hand and falling into the pillows with a sigh, smiling as Vince's hand found its way back to his belly, "are you staying?"

"I need to get some of my clothes, I'm leaving the hotel tonight..." Vince said, "I can stay for a little bit more."

"Think about staying with me," Max poked, eyes feeling heavy, as Vin brushed his hair back, "...But if you really don't want to, I can go hang out at Atwood's, I guess..."

Vince let out a snort, and then his mouth was on Max's, causing the blonde's eyes to snap open with surprise. It was just a peck, but it made Max's head swim in the good way. He felt like for the first time all week, since Saturday night, there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

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.