Sol writes whump

Jon let out a little snort at the fraudulent note, nodding. "Yeah, of course." He got back up, moving around to grab his work bag, glad that he didn't have a shift that morning. He had to go in that night, though.

"Did Wen... Can I—Can I visit her?"

"She said she'd like that," Vince yawned, following him around, stumbling a little, "but she can only get visits a week from now."

"That's alright..." Jonah retrieved his work case from its usual spot near the dining table and searched for a pen to write down his note. "Sit down, Vin, you're swaying."

"Hmm," Vince nodded, although he didn't move. This close, Jonah could tell he wasn't just pale, but slightly green too, a curl stuck to his clammy forehead.

"Are you sick?" Jonah dropped his pen onto the dining table, turning around to cup Vince's cheeks. It didn't seem like a fever. Vin's face wrinkled with a pained, lopsided smile.

"Just worried," he repeated his previous explanation, lowering Jon's hands away. "Not looking forward to telling the others."

"I'll tell Leo," Jonah said, as if that part wasn't already obvious.

"Thanks—"

"I can tell Luke and Bell, if you want me to. Did Wendy say—"

"Yeah," Vince yawned, blinking heavily, "but I don't think that's a good idea, I'll tell them. They must be worried too. Bella was still awake when I rushed out of the house in the middle of the night."

"At 3 AM?" Jonah scoffed, although he wasn't shocked. It was a well-known fact that Bella was a night owl.

His friend only shrugged, collapsing on the couch across the room. Jonah glared at him until he saw the other man get comfortable, kicking off his boots and stretching on the couch, eyes closed. He let out a breath, then turned to the doctor's note he was supposed to write.

Vince napped on his couch until midday, Jonah tiptoeing around to avoid waking him up.

Later that night, during his shift, Dawson broke the news of Wendy's license, under the guise of a family emergency. Not one doctor paid it any mind, although Jonah saw Claire and Christopher whispering to each other in the doctor's lounge. Whatever they settled on, whether they believed that flimsy excuse to cover up Wen's absence, was none of Jon's business.

Wendy slipped his mind as the shift picked up and only returned when he was doing rounds in the ER and found a familiar man sprawled onto a stretcher, one arm hooked to an IV, the other thrown over his stomach in a protective manner.

"Max? What are you doing here?"

Max let out a tired scoff, glaring at the IV slowly trickling liquid into his bloodstream. "Stomach bug."

"Oh." Jonah looked around, realized Max was alone, because really... Who would've been with him? Vince had gone back to the Atwoods, so emotionally distraught that the four-hour-long nap he took on Jon's couch did very little to wipe away how bone-tired he seemed. Leo had been at work for the largest part of the day and was now asleep at home, none the wiser to everything that transpired, blissfully ignorant... Wendy was gone. Who else would keep Max company?

"When did it start?" He moved closer, squinted at the chart hanging from the metal bottom of his stretcher. Lavin was scribbled in hurried fashion, next to "evaluated by."

"Uhmm..." Max gulped down. Jonah glanced at the IV; it wasn't halfway through. He looked at the chart again, in search of the admittance time. 1:30 AM.

"Thursday after dinner... I already talked with a doctor, Jonah, it's fine. I'm fine."

He didn't look fine. Jonah checked his watch; it was nearly 5 AM. His shift would be over at 7. Judging by the speed at which the IV was dropping, Max would be released a little past 8.

"Okay..."

"Doctor said—" Max gulped down again, muffling a sick belch in his hand. "Wendy's gone...? License..."

Ah, shit. Max didn't know.

How could he? Everything went down while he was busy puking his guts up, alone at home. He obviously didn't go to work; he was unaware of Vince's absence that morning... And Vin was so tired, he probably didn't reach out to Max as soon as he left for the Atwoods. Or maybe he did and Max was too sick to pick up. Either way, Max didn't know.

He sounded hurt. Jonah let out a sigh and moved closer.

"Wen's relapsed," he said in the lowest voice possible, looking over his shoulder to make sure there were no nurses or doctors within earshot. "She checked herself into a clinic."

Max's pale face got even whiter, if possible, and his blonde eyebrows went up his forehead. Then a frown took its place, angry and annoyed, only to melt a second later, replaced with downturned lips and sad eyes.

"She's been looking really sick lately," he settled for saying, careful words, tired. "So her going to a clinic, it's—It's good..." A pause. "Right?"

"Right." Jonah rubbed at his face, allowing some of his own concern to shine through the professional mask. "It's a good thing, it's just... I'm worried."

"I am too." Max nodded, then leaned even further back, staring at the ceiling and gulping down. "When did this happen?"

"Vin drove her to the clinic yesterday morning, but he was dead on his feet when I got a hold of him," he threw Vin a bone by explaining it and Max's eyes sparkled as he seemingly caught the gesture of good faith Jonah was doing. He didn't bring it up, though.

"Vin took her?" Max squirmed on the stretcher, "I'll call him when I leave here, I want to- I need to know-"

"Yeah, I get it," Jonah reached in without thinking, squeezing Max's knee. He was wearing jeans, that couldn't be comfortable, "can I tell Leo you're here? I can't keep you company, I'm at work... But I don't think you should be alone, Max."

Max shrugged, his cheeks turning pink, "I don't need a sitter."

"Don't be obtuse about it," Jonah rolled his eyes, "the question was rhetorical, I'm calling him."

"Hmm," Max squinted at him, "it's the middle of the night, Jonah."

"Yeah, and you're sick," Jon moved his hand away, mind made up, "get some rest."

Leo's voice was laced with sleep and concern, as he picked up Jonah's call at 5h30 AM. It took a couple minutes to calm him down and then again, when Jonah told him about Max being in the ER.

It made him feel all fuzzy inside when he saw Leo running through the hospital doors, thirty minutes later. This was the right thing to be done.

With that solved, Jonah returned back to work, hoping the wooziness that was starting to take over him was nothing more than exhaustion after a long work shift.

Kieran burped, whole body jumping up with the force of it. Drool was running down his chin and his hands gripping the porcelain were shaking. His face changed colours from red to white so rapidly and intensely Isaiah couldn't look away.

"You look like you are cooking from the inside out."

Kieran threw him a dirty look, them hissed in pain at the sudden movement. "I don't know how you get people fooled. Misunderstood Executioner my ass. You haven't got a sympathetic bone in your body."

Isaiah blinked and then threw his head back and laughed. Somehow the jab from Kieran didn't bother him as it might from someone else.

Since Seline started her PhD, she was almost never home. Work from the office, then lectures to attend, lectures to teach. She was still working out her research question, but she got a funded research grant that involved urban relationships among humans and wolves. Mostly with focus on improving conditions on universities to accommodate wolves better and increase their numbers among the students.

Isaiah was exicted about the funding for such a topic and Seline was excited to get a position, even if she resented her witch identity giving her an edge in the applications.

But who else was more suited than a witch who grew up with humans and could interact with wolves with no problems?

The downside was that Seline spend a lot less time with Isaiah (who was more than a bit disappointed. Shouldn't her research about wolves involve...well, more wolves? And who was a bigger expert on them than him?)

Somehow he hadn't realised that her working from home and writing her master thesis meant they spend most of their days together. Working on separate things, but sharing meals, walks, breaks, updating each other. It was strange, not having her around.

Kieran groaned and then burped, a huge wave of vodka smelling liquid splashing down the toilet.

Isaiah pushed his head closed to the toilet, since it was spraying everywhere, including Kieran's shirt and Isaiah's neat bathroom tiles. "Much better. Get that shit out of your system."

"J-judgy much?" Kieran grumbled, head still in the toilet. His back rolled, aggressively, as if possed and he vomited another wave.

"What do you want me to say? There, there? You don't deserve any mercy for downing a bottle of vodka from me."

Kieran cut himself off with another heave, his throat gurgling as if he was choking.

"Any special reason for this stupidity?" Isaiah asked. "You get out of a hospital after a beatdown and first thing you do is get drunk out of your mind? As revenge on me?"

"Not everything-uhrrr- is about you," Kieran said, spitting. Then all strenght depleted, he cushioned his head on his hands on the rim, not caring about flushing the toilet.

Isaiah chuckled, using a fresh hand-towel to clean Kieran's mouth and chin.

"Oh for fuck's sake, stop!" Kieran growled, sounding surprisingly wolf-like for a human. He wrestled the towel out of Isaiah's hand, cleaning up himself.

Isaiah leaned back against the cold tiles with a sigh. "Alright alright. Big baby."

"You have no respect for personal boundaries, you realize that?"

"Tsk. Bet you wouldn't mind Alessia doing it." The wolf frowned. "Where is she anyway?"

Not like Kieran's girlfriend had a regular job. Last he knew she was babysitting dogs from the whole neighbourhood and offering offline yoga classes.

Kieran looked away at the question, then turned his head away. A foreign stench of fear and sadness mixed into the humid smell of vomit and sweat in the bathroom. One Isaiah didn't know from Kieran.

So something with Alessia?

Isaiah opened his mouth and then shut it, realizing he had nothing helpful to say in that department. No psychology class prepared or explained workings of the women brain, and he had barely any experience with Seline to be able to give advice.

Kieran had been with Alessia for 6 years. That was unimaginable forever for Isaiah, who hadn't even had consistent contact with one person for that long.

Instead, Isaiah laid a hand on Kieran's back, settling on being practically, if no emotionally helpful. "Wanna go lie down?"

"Dunno. Still feel pretty sick." Kieran leaned his forehead against the wall without lifting his head.

"You can feel sick on the sofa too. Or you want the bed?"

Kieran snickered, turning to look at him. His lips were chapped and his eyes had bruises on them, half face red and the other sickly green. "Your bed? You're unbelievable."

Isaiah had no idea what he said. Matt frequently slept in his or Seline's bed whenever...and wasn't it long established Kieran was part of Isaiah's pack now?

Was he supposed to be more distant? As an Executioner with thousand and one secrets, older brother hiding his father's madness from his siblings and pack, years of loneliness followed by intense and strange pack year culminating in losing Matt, saving his sisters and meeting Kieran...

Maybe his affection wolf radar went crazy at some point in that journey. Isaiah couldn't say he knew or that it bothered him.

Kieran was pack, and he was human and vulnerable and the strongest, most loyal and reliable person Isaiah has ever met. One of the few people on Earth Isaiah felt remotely comfortable taking care of him.

Kieran burped, whole body jumping up with the force of it. Drool was running down his chin and his hands gripping the porcelain were shaking. His face changed colours from red to white so rapidly and intensely Isaiah couldn't look away.

"You look like you are cooking from the inside out."

Kieran threw him a dirty look, them hissed in pain at the sudden movement. "I don't know how you get people fooled. Misunderstood Executioner my ass. You haven't got a sympathetic bone in your body."

Isaiah blinked and then threw his head back and laughed. Somehow the jab from Kieran didn't bother him as it might from someone else.

Since Seline started her PhD, she was almost never home. Work from the office, then lectures to attend, lectures to teach. She was still working out her research question, but she got a funded research grant that involved urban relationships among humans and wolves. Mostly with focus on improving conditions on universities to accommodate wolves better and increase their numbers among the students.

Isaiah was exicted about the funding for such a topic and Seline was excited to get a position, even if she resented her witch identity giving her an edge in the applications.

But who else was more suited than a witch who grew up with humans and could interact with wolves with no problems?

The downside was that Seline spend a lot less time with Isaiah (who was more than a bit disappointed. Shouldn't her research about wolves involve...well, more wolves? And who was a bigger expert on them than him?)

Somehow he hadn't realised that her working from home and writing her master thesis meant they spend most of their days together. Working on separate things, but sharing meals, walks, breaks, updating each other. It was strange, not having her around.

Kieran groaned and then burped, a huge wave of vodka smelling liquid splashing down the toilet.

Isaiah pushed his head closed to the toilet, since it was spraying everywhere, including Kieran's shirt and Isaiah's neat bathroom tiles. "Much better. Get that shit out of your system."

"J-judgy much?" Kieran grumbled, head still in the toilet. His back rolled, aggressively, as if possed and he vomited another wave.

"What do you want me to say? There, there? You don't deserve any mercy for downing a bottle of vodka from me."

Kieran cut himself off with another heave, his throat gurgling as if he was choking.

"Any special reason for this stupidity?" Isaiah asked. "You get out of a hospital after a beatdown and first thing you do is get drunk out of your mind? As revenge on me?"

"Not everything-uhrrr- is about you," Kieran said, spitting. Then all strenght depleted, he cushioned his head on his hands on the rim, not caring about flushing the toilet.

Isaiah chuckled, using a fresh hand-towel to clean Kieran's mouth and chin.

"Oh for fuck's sake, stop!" Kieran growled, sounding surprisingly wolf-like for a human. He wrestled the towel out of Isaiah's hand, cleaning up himself.

Isaiah leaned back against the cold tiles with a sigh. "Alright alright. Big baby."

"You have no respect for personal boundaries, you realize that?"

"Tsk. Bet you wouldn't mind Alessia doing it." The wolf frowned. "Where is she anyway?"

Not like Kieran's girlfriend had a regular job. Last he knew she was babysitting dogs from the whole neighbourhood and offering offline yoga classes.

Kieran looked away at the question, then turned his head away. A foreign stench of fear and sadness mixed into the humid smell of vomit and sweat in the bathroom. One Isaiah didn't know from Kieran.

So something with Alessia?

Isaiah opened his mouth and then shut it, realizing he had nothing helpful to say in that department. No psychology class prepared or explained workings of the women brain, and he had barely any experience with Seline to be able to give advice.

Kieran had been with Alessia for 6 years. That was unimaginable forever for Isaiah, who hadn't even had consistent contact with one person for that long.

Instead, Isaiah laid a hand on Kieran's back, settling on being practically, if no emotionally helpful. "Wanna go lie down?"

"Dunno. Still feel pretty sick." Kieran leaned his forehead against the wall without lifting his head.

"You can feel sick on the sofa too. Or you want the bed?"

Kieran snickered, turning to look at him. His lips were chapped and his eyes had bruises on them, half face red and the other sickly green. "Your bed? You're unbelievable."

Isaiah had no idea what he said. Matt frequently slept in his or Seline's bed whenever...and wasn't it long established Kieran was part of Isaiah's pack now?

Was he supposed to be more distant? As an Executioner with thousand and one secrets, older brother hiding his father's madness from his siblings and pack, years of loneliness followed by intense and strange pack year culminating in losing Matt, saving his sisters and meeting Kieran...

Maybe his affection wolf radar went crazy at some point in that journey. Isaiah couldn't say he knew or that it bothered him.

Kieran was pack, and he was human and vulnerable and the strongest, most loyal and reliable person Isaiah has ever met. One of the few people on Earth Isaiah felt remotely comfortable taking care of him.

Kieran burped, whole body jumping up with the force of it. Drool was running down his chin and his hands gripping the porcelain were shaking. His face changed colours from red to white so rapidly and intensely Isaiah couldn't look away.

"You look like you are cooking from the inside out."

Kieran threw him a dirty look, them hissed in pain at the sudden movement. "I don't know how you get people fooled. Misunderstood Executioner my ass. You haven't got a sympathetic bone in your body."

Isaiah blinked and then threw his head back and laughed. Somehow the jab from Kieran didn't bother him as it might from someone else.

Since Seline started her PhD, she was almost never home. Work from the office, then lectures to attend, lectures to teach. She was still working out her research question, but she got a funded research grant that involved urban relationships among humans and wolves. Mostly with focus on improving conditions on universities to accommodate wolves better and increase their numbers among the students.

Isaiah was exicted about the funding for such a topic and Seline was excited to get a position, even if she resented her witch identity giving her an edge in the applications.

But who else was more suited than a witch who grew up with humans and could interact with wolves with no problems?

The downside was that Seline spend a lot less time with Isaiah (who was more than a bit disappointed. Shouldn't her research about wolves involve...well, more wolves? And who was a bigger expert on them than him?)

Somehow he hadn't realised that her working from home and writing her master thesis meant they spend most of their days together. Working on separate things, but sharing meals, walks, breaks, updating each other. It was strange, not having her around.

Kieran groaned and then burped, a huge wave of vodka smelling liquid splashing down the toilet.

Isaiah pushed his head closed to the toilet, since it was spraying everywhere, including Kieran's shirt and Isaiah's neat bathroom tiles. "Much better. Get that shit out of your system."

"J-judgy much?" Kieran grumbled, head still in the toilet. His back rolled, aggressively, as if possed and he vomited another wave.

"What do you want me to say? There, there? You don't deserve any mercy for downing a bottle of vodka from me."

Kieran cut himself off with another heave, his throat gurgling as if he was choking.

"Any special reason for this stupidity?" Isaiah asked. "You get out of a hospital after a beatdown and first thing you do is get drunk out of your mind? As revenge on me?"

"Not everything-uhrrr- is about you," Kieran said, spitting. Then all strenght depleted, he cushioned his head on his hands on the rim, not caring about flushing the toilet.

Isaiah chuckled, using a fresh hand-towel to clean Kieran's mouth and chin.

"Oh for fuck's sake, stop!" Kieran growled, sounding surprisingly wolf-like for a human. He wrestled the towel out of Isaiah's hand, cleaning up himself.

Isaiah leaned back against the cold tiles with a sigh. "Alright alright. Big baby."

"You have no respect for personal boundaries, you realize that?"

"Tsk. Bet you wouldn't mind Alessia doing it." The wolf frowned. "Where is she anyway?"

Not like Kieran's girlfriend had a regular job. Last he knew she was babysitting dogs from the whole neighbourhood and offering offline yoga classes.

Kieran looked away at the question, then turned his head away. A foreign stench of fear and sadness mixed into the humid smell of vomit and sweat in the bathroom. One Isaiah didn't know from Kieran.

So something with Alessia?

Isaiah opened his mouth and then shut it, realizing he had nothing helpful to say in that department. No psychology class prepared or explained workings of the women brain, and he had barely any experience with Seline to be able to give advice.

Kieran had been with Alessia for 6 years. That was unimaginable forever for Isaiah, who hadn't even had consistent contact with one person for that long.

Instead, Isaiah laid a hand on Kieran's back, settling on being practically, if no emotionally helpful. "Wanna go lie down?"

"Dunno. Still feel pretty sick." Kieran leaned his forehead against the wall without lifting his head.

"You can feel sick on the sofa too. Or you want the bed?"

Kieran snickered, turning to look at him. His lips were chapped and his eyes had bruises on them, half face red and the other sickly green. "Your bed? You're unbelievable."

Isaiah had no idea what he said. Matt frequently slept in his or Seline's bed whenever...and wasn't it long established Kieran was part of Isaiah's pack now?

Was he supposed to be more distant? As an Executioner with thousand and one secrets, older brother hiding his father's madness from his siblings and pack, years of loneliness followed by intense and strange pack year culminating in losing Matt, saving his sisters and meeting Kieran...

Maybe his affection wolf radar went crazy at some point in that journey. Isaiah couldn't say he knew or that it bothered him.

Kieran was pack, and he was human and vulnerable and the strongest, most loyal and reliable person Isaiah has ever met. One of the few people on Earth Isaiah felt remotely comfortable taking care of him.

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, 9 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.

Wendy wiped at her mouth, using the toilet and then the cabinet to pull herself up. Not standing, just sitting, and that was enough to make her head swim and for her to nearly pass out again.

She crawled out of the bathroom, gulping the air of the bedroom greedily, since it wasn't thick with sickness. Her phone had been left to charge, on her bedside table and she couldn't bring herself to stand up, so instead Wendy threw her weight against its foot and the whole thing came tumbling down.

Her cellphone fell on the rug, its charger as well, the remote control of her A/C near it and her flower shaped lampshade fell on the hardwood floor and broke, sending pink and orange glass everywhere. Wendy felt like crying.

Instead she grabbed her cellphone and pressed 1 on her quick dial.

It rang three times before being picked up.

"Wendy?" Vince's voice was thick with sleep and she struggled to figure out what time it was, exactly, or if it was a weekend. Shouldn't he have been up for now?

None of those questions made it out of her mouth, except for a wheezing sound, a knot squeezing her throat.

"Wendy?" Vince sounded a whole lot more alert, "Wendy, answer me."

"Can you-" She stared at her lap, her sight getting blurry. There were purple marks on her knees, something sharp digging on her ankle. Had she rolled on top of a glass shard? "...Help me?"

"Where are you?" He was moving around, if she closed her eyes she could just picture him, so vividly he was almost in the room with her. Messed up curls and grabbing his ditched jeans from the chair the Atwoods kept near the guest room's wardrobe. Hunting for his shoes.

It filled her up with warmth, the fact that he'd come in a heartbeat, that she hadn't broken him so much that he no longer cared if she lived or died. This probably made her a horrible person.

"Wendy," Vince stressed, "where are you? Are you home?"

"Yes, yes I'm home," except it hadn't really felt like home in a long time now. More of a cave, the only place that felt like home was the bathroom. Everywhere else she was performing normalcy.

"Okay," he sounded relieved, "I'm coming over, alright?"

"Can you- Can you stay on the line with me?" It sounded childish and it was, a child asking for their nightlight to be kept or for their parents to check under the bed. It didn't matter, it was out of her mouth before she could control it.

"I..." Vince hesitated, she remembered he drove a motorcycle, "yeah, I can. Hold on."

How?

Wendy blinked and she was looking at the broken lampshade. Much closer now. Her ankle was hurting more, she tried looking at it and realized the angle was wrong. Uhm. She was on the ground again.

"Honey, please answer me," Vince was begging, his voice distant, and Wendy pressed her eyes closed. It had felt like this the first time around too, except better. The fog had been thicker, the floating sensation stronger. There had been no nausea or cold, no one begging through a phone. Just her, lying on the cold floor, eyes following the veins on the marble.

She couldn't be dying this time around, though. It made no sense, there had been no pill bottle, no stuttering heart in her chest, no warning signs. Just guilt and a broken heart, none of which killed.

Made no sense. Stop being dramatic, her mind told her, get up.

Wendy tried, she really did. She planted a hand on the ground to push herself up, then didn't manage, and instead just fell back down. Drama queen, her mother whispered.

It was dramatic, but not the failing to get up part. That had been happening through most of the past ten days, all she needed was some time to recover, a quick nap, a piece of cheese, a bit of coffee... Calling Vince had been the dramatic part.

She shouldn't have done that. Maybe she could call him back, tell him there was no need to come over. She had fallen and gotten spooked, something like that.

"Wendy," Vince, shit, he was on the line still, right?

"Wendy, open your eyes," he was slapping her cheek and Wendy's eyes sprung open, although she didn't remember closing them at all. The bedroom was light enough that she could see Vin's face contorted with worry, pale as a ghost, "yes, keep 'em open, honey," his big hand was suffocating her, moving from her cheek to her neck. Wendy squirmed, claustrophobic.

"Lemme'go-"

"Shhh, it's just me, it's just me-" he moved his hands away from her neck, down her body, "are you hurt...?"

"No," Wendy said automatically and Vince let out a huff, eyes studying her and then widening.

"You're bleeding."

"It'sssnothin-"

"C'mere," suddenly he was sliding his hands under her armpits as if she was a child and pulling her up, planting her on the bed. The altitude change caused a new wave of vertigo to wash over her and Wendy's eyes rolled, the whole room going blurry, her neck giving up holding up her head.

"WENDY!"

"Hmm?" She forced her eyes open again and Vince's face was right next to hers, so close their noses were nearly touching. She had missed seeing him this up close, had forgotten how stupidly long were his lashes, "hi..."

He let out a breath, his head hung, then pulled back, "I got you some water, can you drink it?"

Wendy wrinkled her nose at the idea of drinking anything, putting anything in her body. She had worked so hard to get rid of it...

"Water, honey, it's just water," Vince promised, bringing a glass to her, a metal straw poking out. She took a little sip, it felt amazing against her raw throat, but settled badly in her stomach. The organ let out a whine, upset.

"That's enough for now," Vince pulled the glass back, set it on her bedside table... Hadn't she tipped that over? The lampshade was still on the floor, broken, proving she wasn't insane, "you're bleeding, don't move. I'll stop it."

As if she could move, Wendy thought with a snort. Her head was so heavy, she leaned it back against the pillow.

There was a sharp sting to her ankle and Wendy tried pulling it back, only for it to be trapped in Vince's hand. He grimaced, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." he had ripped open a band-aids box on top of her comforter and was using several of them as butterfly bandages, "what happened, Wendy?"

She let out a breath, shrugged, "drama. You can go-"

"I'm not going anywhere," Vince's voice was clipped with annoyance, "there's vomit in the bathroom and blood on the seat. Your knees are bruised just like they were back in March, even more actually! You can barely stay awake and I've never seen your face so pale, I-"

"Help," Wendy interrupted him, wanting to hug her knees to her chest, but Vin still have an iron grip around her ankle, "I think I need help."

His shoulders dropped, all fight left him. Vince nodded, quickly, "okay. I can help-"

"No," she sniffled, angrily rubbed at her eyes as the tears that had threatened to fall for ages finally managed to, "not your help. Actual- I think- I need to go to a clinic."

One with surveillance and therapists and others who understood, someplace where she couldn't keep hurting herself, because this was what this was. This was what it had always been.

"I... Okay," Vince seemed taken back, spooked. His eyes were the size of saucers and he had let go of her ankle, "okay. Tonight?"

She glanced at her bedroom window. It was a little past dawn now, judging by the peachy light filtering through her curtains. Vince scoffed, followed her gaze, "this morning?"

"Yes," she hugged her knees, curled up, "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for," Vince lunged forward, wrapped her up into a hug and Wendy immediately melted against him, closing her fists on his shirt and weeping. He kissed the top of her head, "you have nothing to apologize for, I got you."

At some point, she stopped crying and Vince peeled himself away from her, starting to move around. He put together a duffle bag for her, all of her lounging clothes and personal items that Wendy was sure would be confiscated but she didn't have the heart to tell him.

"You should eat."

"I can't," she raised her arms, closed her eyes to avoid his as Vin helped her inside of a long sleeved shirt as well as a jacket. What would she see in his eyes? Disgust? Pity?

"Wendy-"

"It's not gonna stay down," she tugged on her shirt, glared at the ground, "please don't make me."

Vin let out a heavy sigh, crouching down in front of her and patting her thigh as he slid up a pair of sweat pants, "okay, okay."

She pulled her hair into a ponytail, then tried to get up from the bed and her legs refused to work, Vince catching her by the waist before she went down to her knees once again.

"I got you," he planted her back on the bed and only then did Wendy consider how the hell he had gotten inside her place. Did he have her keys still? It made her heart squeeze, she had thought he would've left them with Jonah long ago, "do you know a clinic? Or do I have to make calls?"

"I know one," Wendy rubbed her face, tired, "my phone-"

The first, and only, time she had been to an eating disorder recovering center it had been all the way back in New York. Going back wasn't a possibility, but she knew how to get a referral if she wanted one. Vince paced in front of her, holding out the water whenever her voice faltered her as Wendy tried to sound professional and not like she was falling apart at the seams.

She got a referral to Portland, the closest they could do and Vince was up and moving as soon as he got the address.

Wendy's head lolled as he deposited her on the passenger seat, carefully brushing the hair away from her face and pulling on her hoodie, fishing her sunglasses. God forbid someone saw her like this.

"How do I look?" She asked with a teasing smile, knowing damn well that her lips were chapped and she had dark circles so deep, they looked like bruises. Vin's lips turned up, an amused huff through his nose.

"Beautiful," he lied, helping her with the seatbelt.

"Tsk, liar," she smiled, letting her head rest back and crossing her arms to her chest. She was freezing, even though he had helped her dress a long sleeved shirt and a sweat jacket.

"Here," Vin crouched in front of the open car door stripping his large white hoodie and passing it to her. When Wendy only stared at it, he let out a huff and manhandled her inside of it, "there you go."

Vince was a furnace by default and his hoodie was like a weighed blanket smelling of his aftershave. She tugged on the hood part, buried her nose in it and felt every muscle in her body respond by relaxing.

Then they were on the road.

She was in and out of consciousness for the better part of it, only waking up when they were about fifteen minutes away from Portland, as Vin turned the GPS a little louder to find the way to the clinic.

He was staring straight ahead, shoulders up to his ears and that had nothing to do with the fact he had barely fixed her car seat. Wendy felt the bitter taste of guilt in the back of her throat, looked around for a water bottle to rinse it off. She was ruining this man's life... But he had come and that meant the world to her.

Her movement startled him and Vince swore, softly, under his breath, taking his eyes off the road, "are you okay? Do you need me to pull over?"

She felt like she was a bunch of little pieces glued together with spit and bubblegum, "No, I'm fine."

Silence.

"How long will you have to stay there?" Vince asked, then cleared his throat as his voice came out deeper than intended, after so long not talking.

Wendy shrugged, "I don't know," she wanted to say not long. The rational part of her, or so she thought, told her she was going out of her own will and that she had picked the more radical of treatments. The outcome should be that she was out sooner, right?

Yet, she couldn't say it out loud. It felt a little too close to lying.

"Did you..." Vince trailed off, squeezed the steering wheel, "the first time... Did you also go to the hospital?"

She had gone to the hospital alright, but Vince wasn't asking that, "it's not a hospital, it's an inpatient clinic... And yes, I did," she picked at her cuticles, "one week in the actual hospital, seven at the clinic. Needed a bunch of tutors when I went back to school..."

He breathed out strongly, jaw clenching, Wendy squirmed on her seat, ready to beg Vin to say something, anything, when he opened his mouth again.

"Will I be able to visit you?"

Wendy's eyes burned and she stubbornly swallowed down the swell of emotion, nodding, "no-" gulping down the knot in her throat, "not on the first week... But yeah, they'll call you to let you know when visitations are open."

Vin nodded as if he was mentally jolting down what she was saying, then he let out a deep breath, "and do you want me to?"

Wendy couldn't answer at all, so she only nodded, briskly. Blindly, Vince reached out for her hand and squeezed it in his, bringing it up to his lips as he kissed her bruised knuckles, "I'll be there."

She squeezed his hand right back, so tight it hurt.

"Can- Can you tell Jon?" Wendy asked, a handful of minutes later, as she watched the buildings pass them by. The clinic was on the outskirts of the city, away from the pollution and the chaos, but not so far away they didn't have access to the best doctors and care. Money might not buy happiness, but it tried its best, "I would but-"

But it was just turned 6 AM, the dashboard told her. Wendy tried to do the math, figure out how long ago she had called Vin. At 4 AM? 3 AM?... And he had showed up.

"I'll talk to him," Vince agreed, "can I give him the address? He'll want to visit."

"Yes," Wendy curled up, snuggling into his hoodie, "it's fine if Leo knows, Jonah wouldn't be able to keep a secret from him... The others too, it's fine."

She knew damn well who she meant by the others. The fact that she couldn't call Bell ate Wendy up daily. She wondered how her friend was, had many questions to ask her, some cognitive dissonance making her want to talk to Bella about the breakup, as if Bell wasn't deeply intertwined in the mess.

More often than she missed Vince, Wendy missed Bella.

"Are you sure?"

"I... Yeah," Wendy squeezed his hand, finally pulling it back, "I wish Max wouldn't know."

"Why him?" Vince frowned, confused and Wendy couldn't help but feel slightly giddy at the possibility of him being jealous. He wasn't, of course not, but she still wanted him to be. The desire vanished very quickly as she gave him an honest answer.

"He was so... Kind to me the other night," Wendy's voice dropped as she thought of the gentleness Max had extended her during Leo's dinner party, none of which she had earned, "I wish he wouldn't- see me like this..."

There was a deep wrinkle forming between Vince's eyebrows, "getting help? That's not a bad thing to be, honey."

"I know that, I do-" Wendy wished she could live in that phrase of his, the honey, the steadfast reassurance, "I just... Don't feel it."

Vince looked genuinely upset about it, but there was nothing he could say besides an useless "you shouldn't feel like that", which he had sense enough not to voice. Instead another awkward minute passed and then he asked, "do you need me to tell your job?"

"No, the clinic will do that," Wendy sat up straight as she saw they were nearing it, the GPS point appearing to be almost on top of them. One more turn and she could see it, a large sprawling building in between suburbs and city, set in a manicured lawn with gorgeous flowers upfront and the start of a forest behind it.

Vince slowed down the car to crawl, "are you sure about this?" He asked quietly, "say the word and I'll take you back home..."

The last time she had been to inpatient care, no one had asked her if she wanted it. No one had even offered her the option to go home. Wendy leaned in, planted her hand on his knee, "this is good, Vin."

He looked skeptical, but defeated, and parked near the entrance, alongside other visitor's cars.

"Don't move," Vince instructed, getting out of the car and circling it. First he went for her bag, throwing it over his shoulder, then for Wendy herself, wrapping an arm around her waist as he pulled her up. The best he could do without just carrying her and Wendy wouldn't allow him to.

Inside it was pristine. Brightly lit, but not sterile. Blue walls and a lady sitting behind a white counter, typing away. She raised her eyes, expectantly, placid smile on, "may I help you?"

"Hi, I'm- I'm Wendy Marshall? I called earlier to set up an evaluation for the inpatient care...?"

"Oh of course," the woman — Christie, said her name tag, next to her pronouns — "why don't you take a seat while you fill up our form? Can I have your ID, Ms. Marshall?"

Vince had all of her things, so he did that too and Wendy felt a little bit like a child, watching him take charge of the situation. He looked older, but that was just her brain playing tricks on her.

"Are you greying out?" She whispered, as Vince helped her to one of the baby blue couches across the room, planting a clipboard on her lap along with a pen.

"What?"

"Here," she reached in, as she had wanted to do all night and grabbed a white singular hair out of his messy curls, "that's a white hair."

"No, the fuck it's not," he shooed her hand away, horrified, "focus."

Wendy smiled, a flutter went through her, "I got this," she started ticking on the boxes about what exactly was her eating disorder, "you should go, Vin."

"I... I wanted to speak with your doctor..."

"This is gonna take hours," Wendy rolled her eyes, "they're gonna take me inside, to the general doctor to assess my health, then the shrink probably and then, only then, they'll take me to the rooms in the back... You better go, I..." she hesitated, chewed on her lip, "I'll see you next week?"

Vince was crouched down in front of her and his face wrinkled with a smile, a genuine one, the first one yet, "you bet."

"Thank you for... For showing up."

He rolled his eyes, leaned in a kissed her brow, "I love you, of course I'd show up."

"M'notick" Luke mumbled, then considerably perked up as he saw the plate Vince was carrying.

Up close, they could tell Lucas looked off. Beyond just the odd behavior, he was also looking a little pale, eyes with shadows around them and a pinkish hue to his nose that made Bella squint. Had he been blowing or rubbing at it while trying to be inconspicuous?

The thermometer beeped and she retrieved it before he could grab it, jumping out of Luke's reach.

"Sorry, handsome, 99.5ºF, that's a fever in my book," Bella said, sounding a little smug as her husband pouted and collapsed dramatically back against the cushions.

"I'm just warm, it's not a fever."

"Uh-huh," she circled it, perching herself on the couch's arm and ran her fingers through his hair, knuckles brushing against his forehead. More than just a little overheated, "just get some rest, Luke. No point pretending you're not sick."

"I don't pretend I'm not sick," Luke scoffed, which caused Vince to snicker, sitting down on the couch opposite to them.

"He really doesn't, he bitches and moans for hours, you'd know," Vin shrugged, only to receive a couch pillow straight on his face. Apparently the fever hadn't damaged Luke's aim one bit.

"I don't bitch either!"

Bella giggled, leaning in to press a kiss to the top of his head, "you don't bitch, you whine."

"I'm sick and being ganged up on," Luke groaned, curling up his legs and rubbing at his face, thinking he was being oh so very smooth at hiding how he was actually rubbing his nose, "you two are the worst."

Bella rolled her eyes at his mannerisms, jumping from the couch to go sit near their fireplace, where they kept most of her records collection, "because you're sick you get to pick the music, baby."

Luke was busy grabbing two croissants off of Vin's plate and he shrugged, mouth already full, "you know I don't care-"

"I care," Vince interjected, "please no metal. I'm actually begging."

"And you have the nerve to call me dra-ah-AMATCISKFZEW!" Luke sneezed loudly mid phrase, jumping on the couch and crumbling a pastry in his fist as he did so, "shit, my croissant..."

Vince cackled at his expense, while Bella took pity on Luke, maybe because he looked close to tears at his now destroyed pastry.

"You can have mine," she crawled on the rug, passing him her plate, "and lie back down, I'll grab you a blanket."

"Can't Vince grab a blanket and you cuddle me?"

Vince rolled his eyes so hard he feared they might get stuck, "you're such a big baby."

"Yeah, Vin can grab the blanket," Bella promptly sided with Luke, causing him to beam and Vince to scoff at her.

"You're babying him."

"Because he is my baby," Bella shrugged, getting a mischievous look on her face as she tackled Luke, covering his face with kisses, "my. Six. Foot. Four. Nearly. Thirty. Years. Old. Baby!"

Luke let out a whine as she continued to kiss all over his face, covering it in lipgloss, "Bella, what the hell- My head hurts!"

"He's juuuust a babyy-" she held him by the hair, almost managing to headlock him, "Poor sickly- I could bi-ITE yOU!" She punctuated the last phrase by biting Luke's bicep, pinching his sides and he nearly threw her off the couch as they tickle wrestled.

Vince snorted at their antics, deciding to abide and get a blanket. When he came back, he threw it on top of their heads, as Bella continued to try and wrestle Luke, whose face was no longer pale, but pink. If it was from exertion or embarrassment, Vince didn't know.

"Lemme- Stop- STOP!" He shouted, only to immediately fold down with a coughing fit. He clutched his throat, groaning, "awn-"

"Shit," Bella was fallen on her ass on the rug, face flushed and sweaty, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

"It's fi-ASHTSKEW!" Lucas let out a groan as a powerful sneeze caused him to hurry to cover his face, as he got snot all over his palm, "Oh'gross..."

He got up, swaying a little, walking to the downstairs bathroom to blow his nose and wash his face. When he returned Bella cringed, now he was really pale.

"Okay, c'mere, mi vida," she opened her arms, sitting on the couch and Luke let out a pained groan as he collapsed down onto her lap, hiding his face on her thigh, "you're really warm."

"Hmm," he yawned, closing his eyes and Bella felt a pang to her heart. She hated seeing Luke without energy, it just felt extremely wrong.

Her hand ran through his hair, curling the wavy strands around her fingers as Vince switched through the channels and ended up settling on a HGTV show.

Luke's weight slumped, as he actually started to relax, green eyes locked onto the TV screen. Bella ran her thumb over his forehead, smoothing the wrinkle between his eyebrows away.

"I don't think I've ever watched this channel," Luke mumbled and Bella cringed, his voice was hoarse as hell.

"Never?" Vin frowned, confused, "not even in passing?"

"I don't think so?" His eyes were droopy and he shivered violently, "why are they renovating the house if they're gonna sell it?"

"It's called house flipping," Vin stretched on the opposite couch, "you buy a shabby place, upgrade it yourself for cheap, up its price, sell, rinse repeat."

"Sounds predatory," Luke scrunched up his nose, while Vin shrugged, unbothered. Bella let out a little scoff.

"They're upgrading a place, how's that predatory?"

"Isn't that gonna cause gentrifi-ShWAZOn-" He interrupted himself with a powerful sneeze, quickly followed by two others. Luke clutched his head and Bella all but forgot about their previous conversation.

"Your head hurts?"

"Is it a migraine?" Vince asked, looking concerned. Bella had heard about the recent cluster episode that had happened while she was in New Mexico and although she knew, objectively, that there was nothing she could've done and that it wasn't her fault for being away when it had happened, it still left a bad taste in her mouth.

"Not a migraine," Luke sniffled, turning on the couch so he was facing the ceiling, or rather, Bella's nose, "just a headache."

"Hmmm," Vince squinted at him, while Bell turned her head down, twirling a hair strand of his between her fingers.

"Let's get some meds in you," she folded in half, pressing a kiss to his feverish forehead. Was he warmer than ten minutes ago?

In order for Lucas to have meds he needed to eat and apparently, as he said, crumbly croissants were not a meal. They ended up having lunch in the actual dining room, a rare occurrence because normally they ate in the living room in front of the TV or in the kitchen, and while Luke started eating excitedly, it quickly dimmed and he was left pushing his steak around his plate, as well as the mashed potatoes.

"I'll finish for you," Vince fished Luke's plate from him and the other man let out a huff, another uncharacteristic trait, letting others take his food like that.

"Are you okay?" Bella paused eating, inspecting him closely. Luke shrugged.

"Head hurts," he planted an elbow to the table, cradling his head and staring down at his lap, "stuffy."

"Go lie down on the couch, baby," Bell suggested and Luke shook his head, stubbornly.

"Lonely."

She let out a huff, smiling at him, "it's not gonna be long-"

"Nuh-huh," Luke lowered his forehead to the table, sniffling and coughing at his lap, "m'not going."

Vince rolled his eyes, shuffling closer as he continued to chew and pressed his arm to Luke's. He was most definitely warmer, something Bell probably concluded too since she was eyeing him worriedly.

They ate and chatted, over the constant background noise of Luke groaning like an old man and occasionally coughing and sneezing, only getting up to blow his nose. By the third time he did that, Vin and Bell got rid of all the food and took the plates back to the kitchen, piling them into the dishwater.

"Hey," Bella crouched down in front of the couch when they returned to the living room, finding Luke cocooned into three blankets he had retrieved from upstairs and curled up on the smallest of the two couches, which was a choice considering his height, "talk to me, you're looking a little clammy."

Luke's nose was really red from all the blowing and rubbing and he was pale as a ghost, but Bell was right, to top it off there was now a sheen of sweat covering him that wasn't good news.

"Feel gross," he whined pathetically, raising his head just enough to gesture to the cushion, "cuddle?"

Vin rolled his eyes at their antics, running upstairs to grab a book, just as outside a thunder exploded. The temperature was dropping considerably, so Vin put on a sweater and grabbed one of his chunky cardigans for Bella as well.

She beamed at him as Vin dropped it on top of her head, circling the coffee table to collapse on the opposite couch. Luke was now draped over her lap and coughing, surfing through their streaming apps.

They settled on some dumb sheep mystery movie that had Bella sucked into it like a little kid, while Luke bitched about the sheep. Vince drowned them out, focused on his novel.

About fifteen minutes in, Luke squirmed and braced against Bella's thigh, pushing himself up.

"Where are you going-"

Instead of answering her, he pressed a fist to his mouth, muffling a deep burp in it. Bella raised her eyebrows, hands frozen in the air as she was about to check his fever, "reflux?"

"Nuh-huh," he turned his head, muffling a deep chesty cough on his elbow crook and it morphed in a bit of a gag at its tail end. Vince lowered his book.

"Bowl?"

Luke shook his head, raising a hand to stop both Vince from asking and Bella from fussing as he continued to try and hack up a lung. Then suddenly a particularly watery cough had him shooting up and rushing out of the living room, towards the downstairs bathroom.

Bella was up on her feet immediately and Vince cringed as he heard what he couldn't make out as coughs or gags.

Luke stumbled back a couple minutes later, now swaying on his feet, arms crossed in some sort of self hug as he shivered. Bella was shortly behind, bringing with her the roll of toilet paper and the bathroom waste basket.

"Are you nauseous?" Vince stretched to grab the remote control, pausing the movie.

"Just a little," he sat down on the couch, elbows perched on his knees as he stared at the coffee table, trying to figure out if it was safe to lie down. Bella slid right next to him, planting a hand on his back and rubbing up and down in a soothing manner.

"Let's hope you didn't throw up the tylenol," she sighed, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, "you're really warm, I don't like it."

"Yeah, I'm dying," he groaned, deciding he was fine enough and tipping to the side to return to their initial positions, except this time Luke had his back turned to the TV and his face pressed to Bella's stomach, "rub my belly?"

"So it is a bellyache?" Bella asked, squirming under him so she could plant her feet on the coffee table and shuffling with the covers in order to get her hand on her husband's stomach, fingers moving in slow circular motions.

"No," he interrupted himself with another burp, followed by a groan, "I don't know, I feel like crap. My head hurts, my stomach hurts, my back, my eyes, my-"

"What doesn't hurt?" She snickered, grinning at his little baby attitude, all the while Vince decided their were fine and returned to his book.

"My hair?" Luke pouted, wrapping an arm around her waist, "not even sure if that."

Bella let her hand slide under the curve of his belly, where it met the elastic of his sweatpants, then back up with pressure all the way to his navel, causing Luke to squirm and muffle a burp against the blanket, "you're sounding terribly pukey, captain."

"I'm not," he guided her hand closer to his ribs, "don't press so much, I'm all... Fragile."

"Fragile," she chuckled at the word, running her knuckles against his ribcage, "that's a word for it. Don't throw up on my lap."

"I'm not gonnaa-ahA-AatSCHOow! ," he groaned loudly at the powerful sneeze, followed by three others and then stretched out a hand so Bell could pass him a wad of toilet paper, "kill me."

"Not happening," she pressed her free hand over his forehead, wiping away the clamminess, "I want to check your temperature again."

"Uhm," Luke shuffled, so he was now belly up instead of lying on his side and allowed Bell to put the thermometer in his mouth, glaring at nowhere. His eyes were shining with fever and there was now a permanent red splotch in the middle of pale cheeks.

Bella continued to rub his stomach, fingers barely ghosting over his skin, as she waited for the device to beep. Here and there he squirmed as she tickled him by accident.

"How much is it?" Luke asked, when it finally beeped and Bella retrieved it.

"Uhm-100.2ºF," she snorted, "not that high, honestly."

"There's no way," Lucas whined, "m'dying! This must be broken."

Bella giggled, shaking her head, relieved by the lower than expected temperature, "I don't think so, baby."

"It totally is, gimme it-" he snatched the device from her hands, pressing the reset button and putting it back on his mouth, "otta'ee'oken"

"Sure it is," Bella's voice dripped with sarcasm and Luke let out a scoff, glaring at her.

"On'ean"

"What's that?" She plucked the thermometer right out of his mouth and Luke let out an offended cry.

"I said don't be mean!"

"I'm not," Bella's relief at the lack of seriousness of his condition was palpable, she looked at the thermometer in her hand, "uh-oh, now you're 99ºF."

"Ah, fuck off," Luke curled up, trying to hide himself against her, "I am dying, I don't care what this stupid thing says."

"Can you die in silence? I'm trying to read," Vince voiced, shaking his novel and then had to dodge as Lucas promptly threw a cushion at him.

"Don't be a dick," he sniffled, rubbing at his face, "let's just watch the movie."

"I think the butcher did it," Bella said, shuffling around so they were back into cuddling, "or maybe one of the sheep."

"You think one of the sheep killed a guy?" Luke scoffed, "were you even watching? They love him."

"Yeah, but they forget things on purpose. Maybe they killed him and don't remember it," Bell slid her hand down his stomach and let out a little cuteness aggression squeal as she grabbed a handful of pudge, folding by the middle to kiss temple, "you're so squishy today."

"Yeah, keep squeezing me and I will hurl," Lucas poked her hand, trying to free himself, "it's testy already, don't push it."

"Sorry, sorry, you're just so cute, I can't help it," she was smiling from ear to ear and Vince let out a loud suffering sigh.

"You two are disgusting," he sat up, "I'm gonna read in my room."

"Someone is salt-AH!"

They were dipped into the dark as a loud thunder exploded over their heads and the power flickered and went out.

"Shit," Vince whispered, ignoring Luke saying that was karma for him trying to go read alone. Bella was up and moving already, in search of her lighter to light up the million candles she had scattered around the house.

"Now it looks haunted, great," Vince glared at the various black and red candles they had upon the fireplace mantlepiece, "we're months away from Halloween."

"It's never too early for Halloween," Bella shrugged, the smacked his chest, passing him the lighter, "get the fireplace going."

"Why me?"

"Because Luke is sick-"

"He doesn't even know how to get a fireplace going in the first place-"

"Slander on my name! I learned!"

"-and because I told you so," Bella ignored both their comments, walking back to the couch to curl up with Luke, "chop chop."

"So bossy," Vince scoffed, but considering it was far too dark to read and that it was pretty cold even for him, probably even worse for Luke, he got to it with minimal complaint.

They had extra logs in the mudroom close to the kitchen and Vince had to grab some old newspaper to use as fuel for the fire, but it eventually caught on, just as they heard the wind howling outside.

"It's bending the backyard trees," Vin pointed out, ditching the couch so he could sit down criss crossed on the rug, head near Luke's feet because no way he was gonna sit close to the wastebasket.

"Soo... What do we do now?" Luke asked, restless.

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 probably should try to clean it up before it started to smell or something. But right now that felt like too much effort to move from where he was now, curled pathetically on the sofa while Adam (with Drew on FaceTime) was in Avery’s bathroom checking on Gabe. Because whatever was going on with Calder was a lot more serious; at this point, Avery nauseous and puking a little blood wasn’t anything new. It certainly wasn’t going to prevent him from going back to work next week. He’d go back to only drinking his stupid liquid nutrition and keep his mouth shut about how he still felt like shit as long as he could get out of his apartment for more than ten minutes. 

As if determined to torment him, Avery’s stomach took that moment to spasm and a wave of familiar nausea rolled through his middle. He knew he was empty so he didn’t bother reaching for the garbage can, just retched emptily into the air.  The second heave brought up a dribble of bitter saliva that he swallowed back down stubbornly, mentally threatening his body not to start anything. It came back up as a messy burp and Avery swore to himself while he grabbed a crumpled napkin off the coffee table to spit into, biting the inside of his cheek until the pain won and his stomach calmed down.

He blew out a relieved breath. A couple of days ago he would have kept dry heaving until his abs were burning and he was light-headed and dizzy. This had to be progress; he refused to think it was anything else. 

There was a sharp rap on the door which was fortunately enough to jar Avery out of the feeling that he kind of did need to throw up again. Which he refused to do, and so instead gulped down and hauled himself off the sofa to answer. It could have been anyone - he didn’t even care because any distraction was welcome these days - but Drew’s voice called out a second later which made Avery feel simultaneously happy and annoyed. Happy because Drew was a friend and not a Doordash driver or something, and he was usually full of fun gossip. Annoyed because Drew was also a nurse and probably coming to check in on him in that casual, I’m pretending I’m here as a friend but really I’m being a nurse way that he kept pulling with Avery. And yeah, he’d definitely needed him those first few weeks but now it kept reminding him that he wasn’t as recovered as he should be. 

These thoughts got him off the sofa and to the door, where he forced his back to straighten in an approximation of I’m fine before he pulled it open. Because he was fine.

And then Drew barely glanced at him. 

“Sit down, Morrison; you look gray.” Drew was already moving across the room before the words landed, scanning the empty space, “Calder’s in the bathroom?” 

“Yeah . . . with Gabe,” Avery managed, and then realized that oh yeah, Gabe was a Calder too and that’s probably who Drew meant.  Before he could explain any more Drew had disappeared into the bedroom.

For half a second, Avery considered following Drew’s order to sit down, but giving into his lingering nausea didn’t fit with his narrative of I’m fine. So he forced up a burp and followed the nurse.

The bathroom was as cramped and dingy as the rest of the apartment. It was definitely not a space made for sharing, and Avery tried not to think about the few times he’d tried, cramming his body against Adam’s as they playfully fought for space in front of the sink or somehow fitting themselves into the tiny shower together. He definitely was not thinking about any of that. Not when he’d been the one to decide - very firmly - that he and Calder should only be friends. Which was absolutely the right decision. Absolutely. And anyway, not important at the moment.

Gabe was sitting on the floor with his arms wrapped around his knees and Adam was leaning against the opposite wall holding a nearly full glass of water.  The puking blood seemed to have stopped for the moment but Gabe was pale as fuck and his face contorted in pain. 

“Get out of the way, Adam; I’ve got him.” Drew pushed his way bossily into the bathroom - which Avery supposed was his right - and Adam immediately popped out like a cork because clearly the room couldn’t hold three grown men. He stared at Avery for a second, face unreadable, until Drew’s voice floated out.

“Go be useful and make Morrison sit the fuck down. And drink something.” The tone of the nurse’s voice clearly conveyed that he didn’t have time for Avery’s shenanigans at the moment. It was almost comforting; for once he wasn’t the sickest guy in the room. A second later he flushed because what kind of asshole thought was that? 

“C’mon; let’s go to the sofa and get out of the way.” Adam tugged on his arm and gave him another unreadable look and Avery wondered if he’d noticed the blushing. He let himself be led back into the living room, grateful for the excuse to sit down. He didn’t think he was going to puke again but he also had absolutely no interest in the various beverages Adam tried to offer him. 

Adam finally blew out a frustrated breath. “C’mon, dude, Drew’s right. You’re gray and shaking and your lips are so chapped I’m surprised you can close them. “You’ve got to drink something,” - he pulled open one of Avery’s cabinets - “how about tea?”

“Can you give it a rest? I literally just stopped puking.” Avery could hear how irritable he sounded but he didn’t really care. “You don’t have to do every single thing Drew says; I’m pretty sure I’m not going to die if I don’t drink a fucking glass of water. I’m just too nauseous to put anything in my stomach right now, so lay off.” It was probably unfair to take his frustration out on Adam but at the same time it was a relief not to edit himself. With everyone else Avery was cheerful and enthusiastic about his progress and fine. And if he didn’t want to examine too closely why he was more honest with Adam, well, that was his absolute fucking right.

Adam didn’t seem put off by Avery’s mood; instead he glanced back in the direction of the bedroom. “Yeah, well lie and tell Thorton I made you have a Gatorade so he doesn’t ream me out again, okay?” Adam opened a bottle, poured a third of it into the sink and then plopped the rest on the coffee table. “You drank, you’re keeping it down, and you’re going to finish it, okay?” 

It was so unlike Adam to act so nervous, or whatever this was, and about Drew? Avery tried to remember if there had been any recent tension between the two men, but his memories of anything not having to do with his own situation over the past month were murky. He didn’t push though, but shrugged instead. “Yeah, okay,” he agreed, picking up the bottle and turning it in his hands, “yummy.” 

“Fuck you,” Adam retorted immediately, but there was a little smile on his face and some of the tension seemed to have left his shoulders. Avery actually took a little sip so he wouldn’t make him a liar when Drew came back.

“Stay down,” he muttered in the direction of his stomach, and that made Adam huff out a soft snort.

“Are you talking to the Gatorade or your dick?” The words were teasing but Adam was watching him with something like a question on his face. Avery flipped him off, because of course he had to, but then he answered the question he knew was underneath.

“I wish I was talking to my dick,” he groused. Even the mouthful of liquid he’d swallowed felt like it was swirling in his gut now. “That hasn’t been an option since . . . well, you know.” It could either mean since before the shooting or the last time he and Adam had been together; either was true. “It’ll probably be a while before I’m ready for . . . urrHRP.” The wet-ish burp interrupted whatever he was going to say, which was fine because Avery wasn’t sure what he meant - until he was ready to have sex again in general? Until he was ready to date? Right now both felt very far away. “I’ll settle for being able to eat lunch without wanting to puke.” 

“I’m sorry,” Adam said with that intense sincerity Avery joked was his political consultant voice. It was both dialed in and real, and Avery had no idea how he did that . “Do they have any idea when it will get better?” 

“Last week,” Avery answered, not bothering to keep the bitterness out of his voice, “I was finally trying new foods today and you can see how that went.” 

Adam’s face contorted into something much less professional. “Ugh, Morrison, that totally sucks.” He sat down next to Avery on the sofa and took the Gatorade bottle out of his hand. “Is there anything I can do?”

Avery’s first instinct was to deflect like he did with everyone else; I’m fine, thanks. His second was to huff and bitch somewhere between sarcasm and serious; how about a new digestive system? His third instinct . . . well he never got there because at that moment Drew appeared in the living room, Gabe leaning against him but at least walking under his own power.

“I’m taking him to the ER,” he announced briskly, “I suspect he’s got a bleeding ulcer.” 

Adam jumped to his feet. “But that’s . . . it’s not serious, right?” 

“I’m puking blood, bro, what do you think that is?” Gabe’s voice was raspy and wrecked but there was an air of teasing in his tone. Adam flipped him off.

“I just meant, you’re not . . . dying or anything, right?”

“Right,” Drew confirmed, “not dying but we need to get things checked out, probably an endoscopy tonight, or maybe tomorrow morning.” 

“I’ll call Logan,” Adam announced. He looked rapidly around, from Gabe’s pale face to Avery’s even more pale one, and then landed on Drew, “I’ll uhh . . . come with you.” 

Avery didn’t miss the tiny smirk that played around Drew’s lips before he answered, “better stay here with Morrison; he’s a mess too, or hadn’t you noticed?” 

Adam’s posture relaxed. “Oh, I noticed. He’s a disaster. Won’t even drink all his Gatorade.”

“Asshole,” Avery shot back immediately, and was stupidly pleased when Adam sat back down on the sofa, “I’m drinking it.” He reached out and picked up the bottle and took a gulp he was sure was going to be a mistake. But he just needed to keep it down until Drew left, or else he was likely to drag him off to the hospital with Gabe. He swallowed hard and then burped into his fist, willing his body to behave for just a couple more minutes.  Drew cleared his throat and Avery knew he wasn’t fooled.

“Text me - immediately - if you start to feel worse.” Drew put his eyes on Adam. “I’m trusting you to keep an eye on him, Calder, “so take this seriously.” 

There was a flash in Adam’s eyes that Avery was pretty sure only he recognized. It was gone a second later and he and he braced himself for Adam’s sharp retort. But he only nodded.

“Of course,” he agreed easily, “we’re going to watch basketball and take it easy.” 

“Damn, I’m missing basketball,” Gabe mumbled. He slumped a little into Drew’s side and Drew gave up lecturing Adam and started leading Gabe towards the door. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow; I’m doing your return-to-work assessment.” Drew dropped the bombshell as if he was commenting on the weather. “1 pm.” 

Avery hadn’t heard anything about going back to work and certainly not anything about an assessment first, but he wasn’t about to admit it.  “Sounds . . . sounds good,” he managed, hoping he just sounded tired. He had about a million questions, but obviously wasn’t going to ask them now; maybe Rory would know something. “See you at 1.” 

And then they were gone and the quiet was a relief. Avery kind of felt like he was going to throw up again, but he wasn’t sure it was only because of the Gatorade. Adam took the bottle from him again and put it on the table. He watched Avery for a long moment. 

“You didn’t know about the return-to-work,” he stated. Avery shook his head. 

“No. No one’s said a word.” He thought maybe he should be happy about it - this had to mean he was getting better, right? But it was hard to be excited when he was trying not to puke.

Adam nodded slowly. “You want to talk about it?” The question didn’t sound nosy or like he was trying to analyze him, which is why Avery answered the way he did.  

“Yeah, in a bit; right now I want to watch the game and not think about it.” 

Adam nodded again. “Do you want the trash can near you?”  

Lately he felt like he was slowly, key word here, falling out of love with Vince. He seemed more annoying than usual, which Max knew he wasn't really, but the flaws he had originally noticed before crushing hard on the guy were visible once more. Which wasn't to say he had turned blind overnight and his whole body didn't react to Vin still, but there was a hint of annoyance now that wasn't there at first.

Annoyed at Vince and Wendy for the shit show they had made of his life in the past months, but in a surface level. Something he hadn't felt at first, but now he did. Leo said it was a good thing, Max didn't care either way. It wasn't like his feelings had been a decisive factor lately.

Cold water hit him straight on the face, snapping the blonde out of his thoughts and he glared at Vince, whose cheeks were flushed as he pointed at Leo briskly, "wasn't me!"

"Wasn't me!" Leo cried out, although he was giggling too much. Max wasn't sure who to believe, so he opted for raising both middle fingers.

"You guys suck," he scoffed, walking back to the shore to ditch his flip flops and his T-shirt.

Atwood was hanging back like some sort of ghoul, arms crossed and sunglasses, which made him look even more douchey than usual. Max rolled his eyes at the guy, turning his back at him and running down the deck, yelling, "INCOMING!"

He did a pirouette mid air and then dunked in the water. They hadn't been lying, the water wasn't really cold, the perfect temperature. Leo wolf whistled when he emerged, cheekily saying, "that was a ten out of ten, baby!"

"Baby?" Vince whispered in his ear, causing Max to get covered in goosebumps and splash water his way. Fuck this guy, really.

Jonah sat on the edge of the deck, putting his feet in the water, but not getting in, not even as Leo swam between his legs and puppy eyed him, "c'mooon, Jon!"

"No, it's gonna fuck up my hair," Jonah said, while Leo did his best imitation of those wet eyed seals. Max tried not to laugh, just as Vince poked his ribs and raised a finger to his lips, in a stay quiet gesture.

He disappeared underwater, a shadow swimming to where Leo was still trying to convince Jonah to join them. Max watched, pressing his lips not to laugh as Vince swam under the deck and then just his hands poked out, wrapping around Jonah's calves in an iron grip.

"what- VIN-AHHH!" Jonah yelled as he was pulled from the edge of the deck and thrown straight on the water, on top of Leo who didn't move out of the way fast enough.

Max laughed, even harder as Leo emerged clutching his nose, while Jonah spluttered and cried out, "you are such a jerk, Vince Monacelli! Such a fucking je-" he got interrupted by Leo tugging the front of his soaked tanktop and kissing him.

Vince splashed water on them, "leave some room for Jesus, you two."

"Someone is envioussss," Leo sing song, hiding his face in Jonah's neck, seeming more content than Max had seen him be in ages. They were adorable, even if Max thought Jonah was a bit of a stuck up prick, it was heart warming how much he clearly fawned over Leo.

Vince rolled his eyes, gesturing to the shore, "C'mon, Luke, you're missing out! Get in the water!"

Luke shook his head, he had sat down on the shore, back resting against a tree trunk, in the only shadowy patch there was. He had a book in his hand, but Max would've bet money that he hadn't read a single page. Nevertheless, Lucas raised it as a justification for staying out of the water.

Jonah snorted, voice low as he said, "he's so jealous."

"Should we get him?" Vince swam a circle around them, face partially in the water, voice causing bubbles to appear, "I grab his legs, you get his arms?"

Leo perked up at the idea, "maybe in a bit, he's too aware right now."

"Okay," Vince's foot found Max's leg, causing the blonde to jerk, at first thinking it was a fish, but nope. He hated how weak his body was, because that alone caused heat to curl in his belly, his cheeks to burn. Max lowered himself in the water, leaving only his nose out, pointedly avoiding Vin's eyes.

Was he all healed up from the break up and now wanted Max back? He probably just wanted a booty call, but how stupid was it to fish for it within his friend group. Idiot.

He sent Vince a glare and the man smiled, pulled his foot back, hands raised in a disarming way.

"Chicken Fight?" Leo suggested and Max let out a disbelieving scoff.

"Who's gonna get André The Giant over here?" He pointed at Vince, who seemed offended at the comparison, "We can't play it in a fair way!"

"We put Jon with Vin," Leo shrugged, "Jonah sucks at it."

"Wow, real nice, baby," Jonah scoffed, making Max chuckle at their antics.

He guessed Leo had a point, Jonah was all prim and proper, no way he was a good player.

"You know what? Sure, get on top," He swam to Leo, patting his shoulders.

"Leo doesn't hear that often," Vince teased, receiving a splash of water straight to his face, by Jonah.

Max and Leo were a good team and since they had similar builds, they could switch between turns. Max was a little flabbergasted by how shredded Leo was, he had known the guy was lean, like himself, but those abs? Not a thing regular people should have, only movie actors.

Nevertheless, they didn't stand a chance against Jonah and Vin. Jon might be a diva, but he was just as strong, if not stronger, as Leo, and Vince well... The guy was clearly playing with them like he did with his baby sisters.

Probably feeling dejected and sensing that he was the only one who could level the playing field, Luke had moved closer to them and had his feet in the water. He reminded Max of how JD skittered around Leo's place when he was over.

"He's ticklish," he told Max and Leo, clearly invested in the game, as Leo spluttered and sunk his fingers on Max's calves with so much force that there would be purple bruises there in the morning, "like really ticklish."

As if Max didn't know that.

Leo apparently didn't, because he used the infirmation to try and touch Vin's armpit, for the first time in the whole game managing to have Jon wobbling on top of his shoulders as Vince jerked away to try and avoid the tickles.

"Luke! Not fair!"

"He's got a weak spot!" Leo cried out like a warrior, immediately moving forward to do it again, but forgetting to hold Max, nearly causing him to fall backwards.

Lucas watched them play another round, then apparently they weren't being sufficiently vicious for his taste, because he said, "fuck it," and got in the water.

"Jon, get on my shoulders."

"I'm not a dog, you can't just say jump and I juUMP!" Jonah squealed as Vince shrugged him off, causing him to fall back into the water, "Vin, what the fuck?!"

Max snorted, lowering himself so Leo could dismount his shoulders and they played rock paper scissors to figure out who'd get to be Vin's partner for the round.

Max won, much to his chagrin, because being on top of Vince like that, his hands curling around his thighs to properly position him... Yeah, that wasn't helping his "Fuck Vince" agenda.

"Squeeze your legs," Vince told him, "and brace yourself, Luke is the worst."

"You just say that because I win every time," Luke shrugged, causing Jonah to wobble and tug on his hair as if he was a disobedient horse.

"With Wendy against Bell? Of course you do, my gi-" Vince's mouth slammed shut mid sentence, realizing what he was saying. They all flinched, Max feeling vaguely nauseous as it dawned on him just how not over it Vince was. Max couldn't even hold it against him, this would all be so much easier if he could just hate Vin, but no... He liked the guy, he was attracted to him and to top it off, he sympathized with his plight.

"Okaaay," Leo said, awkwardly, "Uhm- players get in position! Three, two, one- FIGHT!"

Lucas lost the first one and Max, Leo and Vince watched amusedly as Jonah and him yelled at each other for a solid minute before resuming to their initial positions. They won the next one, Max falling into the water with a splash that caused his back to hurt and by the time he emerged, Leo was already climbing Vince like a tree, causing the other man to whine about having his curls tugged at.

The next round Luke and Jon lost again, causing Luke to rage quit entirely.

"Don't be such a baby, Luke!" Leo cried out, as Lucas used the deck to lift himself out of the water, "c'mon, dude, we're just playing!"

"No, I have a headache, I'm gonna lie down," Lucas lied through his teeth. Max eye rolled so much he feared it was gonna get stuck.

"Sore loser, much?"

"Fuck off, Daniels."

Max didn't pay him any mind, if anything he was glad the guy was gone, but apparently the others didn't share his satisfaction, because they only stayed in the lake for another hour before heading inside.

As soon as they were out, Max overheard Vin tell Jonah in a quiet voice, "I'll check on him."

Atwood truly was spoiled rotten, huh?

Max followed Leo into the kitchen. They should probably shower, since the sun was setting and the temperatures were dropping quickly, but his stomach was hurting from hunger.

"Okay, we got, uh-" Leo's voice came muffled from inside the fridge, "chicken and uhm... What is this... Chicken, but in cubes now... And this is... Chicken but in burger form!" He pulled back, smiling, "so what is it gonna be?"

"Chicken?" Max grinned, pushing Leo aside so he could look at their options.

He wasn't a stellar cook. When someone had a fussy stomach as bad as he did, all they needed to know was how to cook potatoes, rice and chicken. From the ingredients they had brought, he figured they could do full on burgers or maybe just rice, chicken and fries.

"So?" Leo asked, but not directed at him. Max looked up, Jonah was by the doorway, having already showered, "is he pissy or he's got an actual headache?"

Jon grimaced, "I think it's an actual headache, I'm hoping it's because we didn't eat all day."

"That wasn't very smart of us, no," Max relented, when he actually wanted to ask why they were acting as if a headache was the equivalent of bleeding out.

"He's gonna be fine," Vince entered the kitchen, circling Jonah and grabbing Max by the hips to push him away from the fridge. Apparently he had already decided he was gonna cook, "did we bring any garlic? Or onions?"

Max shrugged, he hadn't been in charge of anything. He hadn't even been sure if he was gonna come or not, torn between his desire to join and his fear of falling back under Vin's spell and his annoyance at dealing with Atwood for a whole weekend. So far so good, though.

"Do we really need that?" Leo asked, "I prioritized space, bought beer."

Vince stared at him as if Leo had just said all puppies should die, "you prioritized buying beer versus spices?"

"He's from bumfuck Oklahoma, give him a break," Jonah teased, receiving an elbow in his stomach.

"We had limited space in the car and you told me to keep the budget tight!" Leo cried out.

"So tight you didn't bring garlic?!"

"Not everything needs garlic!"

"Did you at least bring salt?!" Vince's cheeks were red now and Max was beyond enthralled. He didn't particularly care what they ate, even if it ended up sucking, he thought it would be fine. Clearly, his ex didn't share his opinions.

Leo's face turned pink, "uh... I brought juice packets for cocktails and vodka..?"

"MA QUI CAZZO!" Vince exploded, causing Max to break and start cackling.

"Why are you guys yelling?" Atwood walked in the kitchen, that was getting too cramped for all of them, glaring at them. Party pooper that he was, he instantly killed the mood.

"Leo didn't bring SALT!" Vince exclaimed, pointing angrily at Leo, who had his lips pressed not to laugh, "you had one job!"

"I brought the essentials!"

"We can head to town and get salt," Jonah intervened before the vein in Vin's forehead exploded, "and Excedrin?" He asked in a lower tone, to Atwood, who nodded.

The drama queen was leaning against the doorway, forehead touching the wooden frame and face pinched.

"I'll go with," Vince decided, "I don't trust any of you to buy food."

"I know how to buy groceries, I was making a strategic decision," Leo argued, while they all moved to the living room, Jonah already grabbing the car keys.

Although he hadn't said it out loud, Max could tell he was worried about Lucas. Over a headache, the drama.

Jonah and Vince left, leaving Max and Leo behind, as well as Atwood, who had sat down on the couch and was cradling his head as if he was dying.

"Awn, Luke," Leo lowered his voice, "is it very bad?"

"Not that bad yet," Lucas answered, his voice barely above a whisper, "Jonah is right, I probably just need to eat."

"Uhm, we can make fries..?" Leo offered. Max noticed he had started to shake, since now it was getting pretty chilly.

"No, kid," Luke pushed Leo's wet shorts, "go shower, your teeth are chattering."

"Yes, dad," Leo teased him, ruffling his hair, "I'll be right back."

Leo sprinted upstairs and Max was left alone with Atwood. Great, just great.

He looked around the room in search of his cigarettes, fishing one out and walking to the front door, opening it so he could smoke half inside, half in the porch — Jonah had threatened him with bodily harm if he smoked inside the house, even the bathroom was off limits... But he was too cold to go completely outside, fuck that.

"Can you not smoke?" Atwood bitched.

Max rolled his eyes, taking a long drag and blowing it out in a thick ring of white smoke, "nope," he poked the ring with his cig, "no wonder you act like this, they coddle you like crazy."

"They're not coddling me," Luke scoffed, moving on the couch in a weak attempt to get away from Max. If he really wanted to avoid the cigarettes, Max figured he could stop with the performance and simply go back to bed.

"What do you call them babying you then?" Max snorted, continuing to smoke. His favorite part of the lake house was, by far, how silent it was. He could hear the crickets chirping and an owl hooting far away. It relaxed every muscle in his body.

Lucas let out a long suffering sigh, shuffling on the couch. Max glanced at him, the guy was pretty pale, maybe he wasn't faking the headache to get attention. Maybe.

There were footsteps upstairs, followed by a shriek. Both their heads snapped, "Leo?!" Luke called out, before Max beat him to it. He got up, walked to the staircase and Max followed, concerned.

"Leo?!"

"I'M FINE!" Leo's voice travelled, "There was a spider in the shower!"

"How big of a spider?" Max chuckled, imaging the other man shrieking because of an itty bitty spider.

"Uh- About the size of my hand...?"

Oh, wow, that was pretty big.

"You killed it?" The nerd in him wanted to go up to check it out, but Luke was absolutely gonna snitch if Max went up to the second floor while smoking.

"Yeah, it's fine," Leo shut the bathroom door once more, ending their shouting conversation.

Max turned around to walk back outside, to pat out his cigarettes that had burned down considerably, only for his eyes to fall on Atwood... Who was shaking...?

"Atwood?"

"Urg-uck," the man clamped a hand over his mouth, then rushed to the kitchen, leaning over the sink with a loud retch. Max jumped, surprised.

"Oh, wow," he walked closer, unsure of what to do, standing awkwardly on the doorway, "are you good...?"

Was this because of the headache or something else?

Luke retched again, this time managing to bring up a mouthful of thick saliva and something cloudy in it. Max wrinkled his nose, stepped closer to reassess his original diagnose of drama queen. Atwood was trembling, maybe he did have a pretty bad headache or maybe it was a bug-

"Go. Away," Luke's voice was clipped with annoyance, one shaky hand attempt to shoo Max away. The blonde snorted.

"You seem a little woozy, I'd rather you didn't split your head on my watch," he peered at Luke's face, the way his throat was bobbing as he fought the nausea, "are you gonna be sick?"

There was a vindictive hint to his voice, a mean part of him that wanted to make this worse a little bit, after Luke had acted like such a fucking asshole back in the car, crying out he wouldn't pull over. Such an asshole.

"GO'WAY!"

Max put down his cigarette on the windowsill, frustrated, "I'm trying to help!"

"Yo'huurk-" Luke gagged mid sentence, spine curling as he heaved again, this time managing to actually bring something up. Cereal? They had brought cereal?

Max wouldn't know, he had skipped breakfast entirely because he had slept until 11.

"Do you have the flu?" Max wondered out loud. Surely a headache shouldn't cause puking, not unless- His mind flashed Wendy, a year ago, throwing up on his shirt while she cradled her head, on the side of the road in Doveport. Not a headache, a migraine.

That explained why the lot of them were making such a fuss about it, "Ah, you have a migraine?" Max whispered, looking around for the light switch. Darkness helped, right?

Luke heaved again, then his knees buckled, but he didn't fall because Max wrapped his arms around his waist before he managed, "Whoa! Hey, don't faint!"

"Mmn'ell," Luke slurred and there was something in his voice that made Max look away from his search for the light switch.

Luke's face had collapsed, right side turned down, left up.

He was having a stroke.

"Lucas," Max's heart was so loud in his ears, he couldn't hear his own voice, "Shit, Lucas. Lucas, open your eyes!"

"Mmgh'ell!" Luke cried out, a hand coming up to grab at his hair, tugging on it with so much force that a couple hairs came out.

"What?! What are you saying -" what do I do?!

Luke gestured, uncoordinated, to the windowsill and it took Max an embarrassing amount of time to realize he meant the stupid cigarette. Shit, the smell.

"Oh my god- My bad, my bad, my bad," he said frantically, putting the thing off inside the sink and turning the register on for good measure.

"What's going on-" Leo froze by the doorway, taken back by the scene. Max's heart nearly leaped out of his mouth.

"Help?! I think he's having a stroke- I- I-"

"Shit, Luke," Leo whispered, concern clear on his face, "lets get you lying down..."

"Leo, call 911," Max instructed, trying to keep his cool and failing miserably. He had never seen a stroke before, but a collapsed face... He'd have to be daft to ignore that glaring red flag, "Leo!"

"It's not a stroke!" Leo snapped at him, sliding under Luke's opposite arm, "c'mon, Luke, we're gonna get you lying down..."

Slowly they made it back to the living room, depositing Luke down on the couch. The man let out a groan, pitching to the side as he heaved again and Leo rushed out to grab him a bowl, while Max planted both his hands on Luke's shoulders to keep him from falling completely.

His face was terrifying, one eye leaking tears like a faulty faucet, lips down turned and limp, the other bright, alert and pinched in pain.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck," Max chanted under his breath, making a silent prayer to the universe that Atwood didn't die on him. He was terrified, he couldn't understand why Leo wasn't completely losing it too, "Leo, he's going to die, we really need to call 911-"

"He's not having a stroke," Leo fell to his knees next to Luke, holding a plastic bowl under his mouth and curling his opposite arm around Luke's head, trying to keep it steady as the empty heaves rocked him, "migraine. He's got-"

"Migraine doesn't cause his face to fall!" Max hissed, "call Jonah at least-" he was begging and he knew it, but fuck, this guy couldn't die on him.

Leo hesitated, then nodded, "hold him, keep his head steady."

He then ran to grab his cellphone, ditched upstairs. Max moved around, taking Leo's spot and wrapping himself around Luke's head kinda like an octopus, cooing out of instinct when he heaved and whimpered.

He should ignore Leo's bullshit and call 911 himself. Even if Luke didn't die, if he had had an aneurysm, time was crucial...

"His face collapsed," Leo's voice arrived before he did, talking on the phone, "it's bad, Jon, it's really bad..."

The other man appeared in front of Max, gesturing for him to move, "okay... Just squeeze his hand? That's all?" Leo's hand wrapped around Luke's and he whispered to the fallen man, "Luke, Jon is asking you to squeeze my hand, can you do that? Please?"

Max waited, biting his lip with so much force he was drawing blood. Luke's hand tightened around Leo's, who let out a relieved sigh, "Okay, Luke, now the other one..." Again, a tight hand squeeze.

Leo sat down on the ground, boneless, "yeah, he squeezed it, it's strong," he said on the phone and judging by the clear relief on his voice, Max counted it as good news. He just wasn't sure if he trusted it.

"Ice pack?" Leo asked, on the phone, "no, we don't, but Uh- I have a bottle of vodka in the freezer... Works?"

Max was up and moving before he got an ok from Leo. He took the bottle of alcohol, wrapped it up in a dish cloth and brought it back to the mini chaos in the living room.

"Hold it to his forehead," Leo instructed.

Max obeyed and upon the cool touch, Luke whimpered and curled up even more.

"Ssstop'urtssss-"

"Sorry, man, I can't," Max said, truly apologetic. He watched Luke's face like a hawk, hoping the horrible two-face condition was gonna ease.

It took forever.

Jonah and Vince arrived and promptly took over the caretaking, a bag of groceries being shoved in Max's hands as he was sidelined.

He dumped it in the kitchen, unable to stay away from the living room, where the other two were fussing over Luke in a rhythm that informed Max this wasn't their first time doing it.

Leo got up to wash the vomit basin and his whole face was pink as if he was crying, so Max followed him.

"Leo..."

"I'm okay," his voice came out strangled and Max let out a huff. Leo dropped the bowl inside the sink, whole body shaking and a terrible whine falling from his lips.

"Hey," Max wasn't sure what he was doing, but Leo was his friend and he wanted to comfort him. He stepped closer, pulled Leo's arm and guided him into a hug, which was reciprocated immediately. Leo melted against him, crying, "I know, it was scary..."

It sounded childish said like this, but Max too was shaking, adrenaline starting to come down. Leo sniffled, hugged him tighter, "I thought he- he-"

"I know, I thought so too," Max patted his friend's back, "but Jonah said he's ok, right?"

"Right," Leo pulled back, wiping his eyes, "sorry-"

"Don't," Max squeezed his nape, looking back to the living room. Jonah and Vin seemed to have managed to knock Luke out. Jon was sitting on the coffee table, watching him, while Vince paced behind the couch like a caged tiger, biting his thumb.

Luke's face was normal now and he seemed peaceful. Max walked up to Vin, while Leo curled up on the floor, resting his head on Jonah's thigh.

"Should we move him to a bed..?" Max asked, after a long quiet minute. He noticed Vin's face was white as chalk and his eyes were bloodshot, and he reached in without thinking, taking Vin's hand in his and giving it a friendly squeeze. Vince latched onto him with an iron grip.

"Not yet," Jonah answered, sounding defeated, "I should've seen it coming, he was squinting all day and wearing the stupid sunglasses."

"Not your fault," Leo pressed a kiss to Jonah's thigh, while Max asked again "is it over now?"

"Not necessarily," Vince's voice was raspy, he cleared his throat, "last cluster I thought he'd be better after sleeping, but he was worse. Had to take him to the ER."

"Ah..." What else was he supposed to say?

They eventually disbanded. Vince took a lot of pushing and prodding to move away from Luke, but he did go cook dinner once Jonah promised he wouldn't leave the other man alone. Leo shooed Max to shower and they had a quiet dinner in the kitchen, while Vince watched Luke.

Jonah curled up on the armchair in front of the couch, eyelids heavy, but refusing to move to the bedroom no matter how many times Leo asked... And Leo didn't ask that many times. Instead he came back downstairs with a huge pile of pillows and Max quickly got what he wanted, so he ran upstairs to grab all the blankets.

They curled up on the living room floor, pushed the coffee table out of the way. Max sandwiched between Vince and Leo.