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Hey, so I just wanted to come on here to say thank you for all the love on my posts in the past and stuff, I really appreciate it. ❤️

Also wanted to say that I feel like my participation in this community has been going downhill and I think its because my interest has slipped, I obviously love love reading these sort of stories and stuff but I think MY part here has not been the best which has led me to understand that I could do better. This is mainly the reason I've put this off for so long, I don't think I'm ready.

Thank you to @bellysoupset and @lisupandowntown for being my inspiration and motivation!

- G

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Absolutely love this Lis! Wanted to say more!

Birthday boy, part I

A/N: This is for everyone who wanted a group food poisoning scenario. For the record, group scenes are hard to write in general, and group sick scenes even harder. This one has a lot of necessary plot to keep things from getting too boring. And it's only part one - we haven't seen the last of Drew and Jeremiah sick, or Rory and Noa. And what is Adam going to get himself up to? Huge, huge thank you to @bellysoupset for cheerleading this. Your reward is coming in the next part. And thank you to @writing-whump too, for listening to me blather on about Noa.

“Happy Birthday week to me!” Drew sang as he danced around the kitchen with his beer.  He held out the bottle to his boyfriend.  “You sure you don’t want a sip?”  

Jeremiah laughed.  “You know I don’t like beer, and I know you’re just asking to try to look generous.  I’ll stick with bourbon tonight, thank you.”

Drew blew him a kiss.  “I’m so glad you wanted to have everyone here instead of going out to some fancy restaurant.  It’s going to be much cozier, especially with the snow we’re supposed to get.”  

“It is your fourth celebration of the week,” said Jeremiah dryly.  He studied Drew with amusement.  “You never get tired of being celebrated, do you?” 

“Nope,” answered Drew, popping the “p” at the end of the word.  “Especially not with you.”  He threw his arms around the other man’s neck and leaned in to kiss him, and then pulled back again.  “But tell me more about the drama before everyone gets here - did Logan and Noa actually get in a fight?”  

Jeremiah chuckled.  “I’m not sure I’d say it’s a fight, but something’s going on. I think Gabe might be angrier at his sister than Logan is.  And of course Rory got involved too.”  The oven dinged and he began taking out several trays of his baked chicken wings and putting them on the counter. “I’m tossing half in sweet bar-b-que and half in spicy, right?” 

“Right; and I’m calling dibs on at least half the spicy ones,” answered Drew.  He pulled out a big metal tub they used to keep drinks in and started filling it with ice.  “I know Noa likes to control things, but it doesn’t sound exactly like her to ignore that Logan was feeling sick.”  Jeremiah hummed in agreement.

“I don’t think she was ignoring it, exactly; I think she thought Logan had more time.”  He dumped half the wings into a big metal bowl and began tossing them in the sauce.  “She called me later, Noa did.  I know she feels bad about it all.” That was true, but his conversation had been a little odd. 

“She seemed kind of, I don’t know, defensive?  I think there’s more going on,” he told his boyfriend.  “And I think Noa apologized to Logan, but I don’t think Gabe’s quite forgiven her.”

Drew raised his eyebrows.  “I bet  Rory loved that.”  

Jeremiah nodded.’  Exactly.  Going to be an interesting night, even before we include Adam.”  

Drew rubbed his hands together.  “Maybe I should make popcorn; this is going to be a drama.”

Everyone arrived at once, stamping snow off their shoes and chattering about how quickly the snow was falling. And at first, they all seemed to be on their best behavior, although Drew could see the cracks now that he knew where to look for them. 

“If we end up having to sleep over, Logan and I call dibs on the guest room,” called out Gabe.  “The rest of you can snuggle together on the sofas.” He plopped down on one of those sofas and pulled Logan along with him, looking at everyone else as if challenging them to disagree.

“The subways will be running just fine,” said Rory mildly.  “I’ll take Noa home if it gets too bad out.” 

“Or I’ll crash with Drew and Jeremiah; their bed’s the biggest.”  Noa’s tone was light but the challenge in her voice matched her brother’s.  Only this time it was directed only at Rory.  Interesting; normally Noa was indulgent about Rory’s needs.  Behind him, Drew heard Jeremiah huff, clearly agreeing with his assessment.  

“Adam, looks like your sister beat you to our bed; how do you feel about that?”  Jeremiah put an enormous platter of chicken wings on the coffee table.  

The deflection worked; Adam smirked.  “Miah, If that’s an offer to let me check out how much more Drew has taught you, I accept.”  He looked around.  “Is this all of us, by the way?  No other guests?”  

“This is everyone,” Jeremiah confirmed, and then added innocently,  “why, were you looking for anyone special?” 

Adam shrugged.  “You have more friends than just us, don’t you?  From the hospital? Or, I don’t know, anyone else’s coworkers?  Don’t you hang out with some of them?”  He spoke with deliberate casualness and Drew didn’t think anyone was fooled for a second.

Both Noa and Logan bit back grins.  Drew saw Logan open her mouth to say something to the other woman and then snap it closed.  Noa’s face shuttered.  Apparently all was not forgiven quite yet.  He cleared his throat.

“Since it’s my birthday, I say we can eat the meal in any order we want.  In addition to the wings and savory charcuterie, we have a sweet charcuterie too.”  He gestured expansively at the kitchen island where there were no less than a dozen platters of pastries and bowls of toppings.  Gabe walked up and peered at the array.

“Good lord, what is all this stuff?”  

“Drew’s already had three other birthday celebrations this week; some of this is leftover,” explained Jeremiah.  “But the individual chocolate mousse cups and apple pie jars are new.”

“And we have ice cream, And the red plate has gluten free mini cupcakes and brownies.”  Drew was almost bouncing with excitement.  He had an enormous sweet tooth and even after a week of birthday treats he still wanted more.  Ignoring the chicken wings for now he piled a plate with two mousse cups, a cake pop, and some apple pie, spooning whipped cream on top.  Jeremiah wrapped his arms around him from behind.

“If you get a belly ache later, I hope you expect me to rub  it,” he said, low in his ear.  Drew shivered.  

“I’ll have to eat double then,” he promised, turning to kiss the man on his lips.  He scanned the room to make sure no one else had overheard. Everyone was busy taking food and there was the low murmur of chatting, but it seemed to be divided by couple.  Rory and Noa were now on the longer sofa, Adam on the loveseat, and Gabe and Logan were sitting on the floor on the other side of the coffee table.  Drew didn’t think it was on accident. “Can we get them all drunk?” he muttered, inclining his head at their friends.  “Maybe we should tell Adam we did invite Avery.  Too bad he couldn’t come.”  

“That’ll be for my next birthday,” grinned Jeremiah.  He watched with amusement as Drew picked up the nearly empty cup of mousse he’d been eating and began licking the inside.  Drew stuck out a chocolate-covered tongue.  

“Kiss me,” he intoned dramatically.  To his delight, Jeremiah leaned in right away, guests be damned.  

“Mmm,” he said appreciatively.  “Delicious.  And the mousse too.”  

“Drew, later tonight ask Miah what I showed him to do with whipped cream.  I bet it would work with chocolate mousse too.  Just make sure you have plenty of towels.  Miah, do you remember . . . .”  

“You’re my brother,” interrupted Gabe.  “I really don’t need to hear this.”  He looked over at his sister.  “Noa, tell Adam . . . nothing.  Forget it.”  

Drew was ready to see some fireworks between siblings, but Noa wasn’t even paying attention.  Instead, she was shaking her head at Rory, apparently disagreeing with something he’d just said.  He was facing Drew’d direction, expression stony.

“Let’s get closer so we can.” Jeremiah whispered in his ear and nudged their heads in the direction of the couple.  “I’ve seen Rory pissed before but never at Noa.”

“Let me grab my second mousse and then I’m there,” Drew muttered back, but before they’d gone two steps, there was a sudden lull in the conversations going on which meant everyone heard Rory’s comment clearly, sounding more frustrated with Noa than Drew had ever heard before.  

“It’s only for a couple of weeks; no big deal.”  He was looking expectantly at her as if waiting for her to agree.  But she stayed quiet, biting her lip.  

Drew thought he should say something but didn’t know what.  Instead he took another bite of chocolate mousse.  Damn, it was good.  Mousse and drama, what a combination.

Finally Adam spoke up.  “Okay, I give. What’s not a big deal?” 

“Nothing,” said Noa quickly, before Rory could answer.  “Just, you know.  Rory being Rory.”  She nudged him playfully, but Drew thought the action seemed kind of forced.  

Adam scoffed so hard Drew could practically see his eyes rolling from across the room.  “Well if it’s just that.”  He leaned forward and pointed at Rory’s chest.  “Let me guess, he wants you to have a chaperone to walk you to the subway and babysit you when he’s not home, right?  Or doesn’t the FBI have those, you know, tracking ankle bracelets?”  

Gabe snorted and reached across the table to bump fists with his brother.  

Rory and Noa were both sitting very still, though.  

Logan seemed to reach the conclusion first.  “Wait, is that true?  Is that why Rory asked me to hang out with you the other night?”   She put her empty plate on the coffee table and leaned forward.  “So you wouldn’t be alone?” 

For the first time since Drew had known her, Noa seemed to be at a loss for words.  For a second, he considered changing the subject again to give Rory and Noa privacy to figure out whatever was going on.  If there was one thing he knew, Rory was not going to be ambushed into sharing anything personal that he didn’t want to.  

But apparently Jeremiah had other ideas.  He plunked a bottle of bourbon on the coffee table and another of wine.  “You’d better stop with the dessert and grab some wings before they’re gone,” he told Drew.  “This could take a while.”  

Now Rory huffed impatiently.  “It won’t,” he said flatly.  “Because it’s not a big deal.”  He got up abruptly and walked over to the table of sweets.  

“Bring me a mousse,” called Jeremiah.  “And a cake pop.”  He started clearing up everyone’s plates and taking them to the kitchen.

That seemed to be the signal for everyone to move from dinner to desserts.  Drew quickly finished his second cup of the chocolate and filled a plate with the remainder of the chicken wings while everyone else settled down with cupcakes and lemon squares and the small jars of apple pie and mousse.  

Logan was carefully reading the label of the package of cupcakes Jeremiah had gotten her.  “These look great, Jer, thank you.”  She took a bite and moaned with pleasure. “Yum.” 

“Anytime, sweetheart.  Can’t have you deprived of dessert, now.” He shrugged.  “I’m sorry the rest isn’t safe.  I know mousse usually is okay but I don’t know about the bakery that made it.”

“Don’t worry,” Logan assured him through a full mouth.  “I’m still nervous about trying anything new, and after . . . you know.”  She gave a little shrug and Gabe put his arm around her.  Across the room, Noa made a frustrated sound.

“I said I was sorry; I wasn’t even the one who picked the restaurant that made her sick.”

“No, you’re just the one who wouldn’t let her leave,” said Gabe pointedly. 

“Hey now, that’s not fair.  She was trying to help.”  Rory put down his empty dessert plate and glared at his best friend.  

“Oh yeah, well she “helped” so much that my girlfriend almost puked all over the Uber.”  Gabe looked daggers right back.

“But I didn’t,” began Logan.  Apparently she’d taken it upon herself to be peacemaker.  Drew dumped the last five wings on his plate and settled in to watch. 

“A couple more minutes and you would have,” retorted Gabe.  “There was no reason for my sister to be so thoughtless.”

“I wasn’t trying to be . . .” Noa interjected weakly.  “I really thought it wasn’t going to happen that fast.”  She turned to Logan.  “You know that, right?  That it was an accident?  I wanted to apologize in person that night, but Gabe kicked me out.”  She gazed pointedly at her brother, although there wasn’t a lot of heat to her words.  

Rory was a different story. He slammed down the cup of mousse he’d been eating so hard the plastic cracked.  “Wait, you kicked her out?  At night? What the fuck, Gabe?” To Drew’s surprise he then turned rapidly to his girlfriend.  “How did you get home?” he demanded.  “Please don’t tell me you took the subway alone.”  He stared at her so intently that Drew thought he felt the heat himself.  

“It couldn’t have been more than 8 or 9, right?”  Adam waded fearlessly into the fray.  “What’s the big deal?”

“Here we go,” muttered Jeremiah under his breath.  He sat down at the opposite end of the sofa and scooted over to make room for Drew. Drew started to take the rest of his plate of food with him but then put it down on the table before snuggling against his boyfriend.  “Have enough to eat?” Jeremiah asked casually, looking at Drew’s almost empty plate and raiding his eyebrows.   

Drew gave him a sheepish grimace. “Maybe a little too much; my stomach’s feeling kind of swirly.”  He nudged Jeremiah purposefully and then glanced across the room, where Adam, Rory, and Gabe were still debating the safety of the Boston transit system.  Logan and Noa seemed to have mostly made up, although when Noa looked over at her boyfriend and brothers the frown on her face grew.  A second later Rory gestured in her direction.

“See, Noe?  They agree with me.  Even Gabe.”  Rory waited a moment, and when Gabe reluctantly nodded, he turned to Drew and Jeremiah to explain.

“The asshole who attacked Noa is free on bond right now.  So I don’t want her out alone at night.  Not until the trial’s over.  It’s not a big deal, and safer for everyone”  Rory spoke in a way that made it sound like he’d been repeating the lines regularly.  Behind him, Adam and Gabe were nodding again.  Makes sense

“That sounds reasonable.”  Jeremiah shrugged in agreement at Rory and then looked over to Noa.  “Right, sweetheart?  Just at night until the trial’s over?”  

“But it’s not . . .” Noa disagreed, sounding frustrated.  She glanced at Rory, took a deep breath, and started over.  “Avery told me . . .”

“When did you talk to Avery?”  Adam jumped into the conversation so quickly Drew would have laughed if not for the bubble of air working its way up his throat.  He burped softly and then blew out a breath, wondering how much longer it was going to take for their friends to finish up their desserts and discussion. Would it be rude, as the birthday boy, to ask everyone to leave soon?   He was starting to feel a little overheated and uncomfortable, which meant it was almost time for Jeremiah’s belly rub. But not yet, unfortunately.   He took a swig of beer to try to clear the taste of spicy wings from his mouth and tuned back in on the conversation.

While he’d been focused on his stomach, everyone had apparently decided that yes, Rory was justified in asking Noa to avoid going out alone at night for the next few weeks.  The tension in the room seemed to have dropped a few notches.  Everyone was eating various desserts and Rory especially looked a lot more calm.  

Only Noa still appeared unhappy, although she wasn’t saying anything, and Rory seemed uncharacteristically oblivious to her mood.  He held out a spoonful of mousse to her with a grin. Noa ate it dutifully and then abruptly stood up and walked into the kitchen.  Drew decided to follow her with a mind on either getting a glass of water or maybe some Pepto for his indigestion. Apparently eating dessert first hadn’t been the greatest idea.  

Noa was already pouring herself some water and Drew held out his glass.

“You . . . hic . . . okay?”  He rubbed his chest and grimaced.  “Excuse me.”  He wondered how rude it would be to unbutton his jeans.  Pretty rude.  He leaned subtly against the island, pressing his stomach against the edge to try to work up another burp.

Noa waved him off.  

“I mean, I know Rory,” she answered, as if they were already in the middle of a conversation.  And I get why he’s concerned, even though Avery told me that the guy’s staying way out in Lexington right now, and being monitored.by pre-trial services.” She shook her head. “It sounds like his bigger problem is with drugs, not violence, even though Rory doesn’t believe that.”  She began playing with her water cup, twirling it in her hands.

Drew recognized that Noa was sharing more about her and Rory’s relationship than usual; he’d actually never heard her say anything even mildly critical before.  So he swallowed down his discomfort with another gulp of water and tried to figure out exactly what was upsetting her. “So you aren’t worried?” he asked carefully.  “At all?”

“Of course I’m being careful!” Noa said forcefully. “I’ve got it all under control.” Drew didn’t try to point out that wasn’t what he’d asked.  His stomach gurgled noisily and he pressed it against the island again.  

“So . . . s’cuse me . . . so you’re not going out alone at night?” he asked through a gulping hiccup.  It was annoying, how much his stomach was churning. He hadn’t even overeaten that badly, planning to indulge in that privately with Jeremiah later.  He’d kept aside a couple of the mousse cups for that exact purpose, although right now, thinking of eating more chocolate almost made him want to gag.  He cleared his throat while Noa huffed impatiently.

“That’s not the point,” she said with more force than Drew would have expected.  “It’s the rest of it, you know?  Totally unnecessary.”  

Drew did not know, but he wasn’t going to say so when Noa seemed to be eager to unburden.  He and Jer could puzzle it out later; Jeremiah understood Rory better than he did.  “So um, you said . . . Avery?” it was getting harder to pay attention through his stomach ache, but fortunately, that was all Noa needed.  She nodded vigorously.

“Exactly.  Avery’s got an eye on things too.  He’s more like you; not trying to make all my decisions for me.  Especially when I’ve got it all under control.”  She crossed her arms and gazed meaningfully at him.

That was the second time Noa had mentioned having things under control, but that wasn’t really what Drew was focused on at the moment. He had to swallow hard before he could answer.  “I’m sure you . . . uUrHuurp . . . do,” he gasped out through a deep, chocolate-flavored burp.  He grimaced through a wave of what felt more like nausea than indigestion.  Noa’s eyes narrowed.

“You don’t look good,” she decided, and before Drew could stop her, reached out and laid her hand on his forehead.  “And you’re clammy.  What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he replied automatically.  “Just a little upset stomach.  I probably shouldn’t have eaten so many . . . uUhlp . . . desserts.”  That gulp was closer to a gag and he quickly swallowed down some more water. “I’m fine.”

It was too late; Noa had already marched out of the kitchen,

“Jeremiah, Drew’s not feeling well; can you come take a look?”  

“I’m really okay,” he protested weakly, even though he wasn’t. His stomach was rolling and starting to cramp and Noa was right; he did feel clammy and uncomfortable.  The birthday boy in him wanted to deny it and drag his boyfriend off to the bedroom for the fun they’d planned.  The nurse in him, however, knew that the bathroom was a lot more likely.  Another cramp twisted in his gut and he winced, just as Jeremiah walked into the kitchen.

“What’s going . . . oh darling, you look terrible.”  The man didn’t waste any time but walked up and put both hands on Drew’s cheeks.  Drew’s stomach took that moment to whine and Jeremiah’s eyes narrowed speculatively.  “Indigestion?” He asked, moving one hand to Drew’s forehead and the other automatically to his wrist to check his pulse.  

Drew shook his head miserably.  “Maybe not,” he admitted.  Another burp worked its way out of his chest and he let himself belch, grimacing at the taste of chocolate.  “I’m really not feeling great.”  He knew his boyfriend would understand that this wasn’t a game, not with everyone else here.  

Indeed, Jeremiah was peering at him critically, eyes narrowing when Drew’s stomach gurgled again.  “Noa, can you grab the Pepto from the cabinet next to the sink?”  When she turned away, he lowered his voice to Drew’s ear.  “Do you need the bathroom?”  

Drew gulped again. “Not yet,” he decided.  He really didn’t want to ruin the night for everyone.   “Maybe the Pepto will help,”  He could tell Jeremiah didn’t believe it any more than Drew did, but he nodded.  “Let’s go sit down then.”  

Everyone else stopped talking when he, Jeremiah, and Noa walked out of the kitchen.  Drew decided not to beat around the bush.

“So. . . hic . . . sorry for bringing the party down,” he joked.  “Apparently there’s a . . . a reason you don’t fill up on dessert first.”  He sat gingerly on the sofa and accepted the cup of Pepto Noa handed him.  “Hope we didn’t poison anyone.”  He burped up the taste of more chocolate and tried not to groan.  It felt cloying and thick in his throat, and mixed with the chalky-mint of the Pepto Bismol was really pretty gross.  Jeremiah was still watching him with the careful attention of a doctor and Drew could almost see his mind working.

Gabe spoke up first.  “You don’t really think it’s food poisoning, do you?”  He gestured at the now much emptier table of desserts.  “I mean, where did all that come from?”  

Drew groaned.  “Some is from the celebration the nurses gave me at the hospital on Wednesday.”  He looked at his boyfriend.  “It couldn’t have gone bad, right?  I kept it all in the fridge.  And the . . . uuhlp . . . the apple pie and mousse are new.  From a bakery we like.”  His mouth twisted with the memory of all the sweets he’d eaten.  But he had to ask. 

“Does everyone else feel okay?”  He palmed surreptitiously at the side of his stomach, trying unsuccessfully to get it to calm down.  There were mumbles from around the room denying any gastrointestinal upset.

“But none of us ate dessert first,” Adam pointed out.  “So maybe it hasn’t been long enough to feel sick yet.” 

“Ask Noa how long it takes to start feeling sick from something you ate; she’s the expert,” smirked Gabe.  

Noa flicked beer at him.  “Fuck you,” she said.  “Drew’s really not feeling well.”  She sat down next to him.  “Do you want us all to leave?”  

He really did, but as a nurse, he felt a little guilty about sending everyone home not knowing if they were going to come down with food poisoning.  “It’s okay,” he gasped through another cramp.  He lurched to his feet.  “I’m just . . . I’ll be right back.”  

“Love?” Jeremiah started to get up and Drew waved him away.  “I’m fine,” he lied, before hurrying down the hall to their bedroom.  God, his stomach really hurt.

Fifteen minutes later some of the pain was gone, but Drew couldn’t deny that he was starting to feel  nauseous.  He spit chocolate-tinged saliva into the sink and tried not to think about what might be upsetting his stomach so much.  It clearly wasn’t wings; Jeremiah was too good of a cook for that anyway.  But maybe it was just one of the desserts not sitting well and not an actual pathogen.  He took a deep breath.  At least he could say goodbye to his guests.  And then come back to the bedroom and get into pajamas and let his boyfriend take care of him.  It might not be in the way they’d envisioned, but a belly rub was a belly rub.  

Except that as soon as he returned to the living room, Drew knew his chance of a belly rub was almost none.  The pallor on Jeremiah’s face was unmistakable, and Rory was sitting with his arms wrapped around his waist while Noa rubbed his back.  Drew bit back a groan.

“So it’s not indigestion then.”  He sat heavily on the sofa.  

“We think it’s the chocolate mousse,” Jeremiah said in a thin voice.  “Rory and I had the most, after you.”  He swallowed hard. “Did you vomit?”

Drew shook his head.  “No.” He swallowed hard and then clarified.  “I mean, . . . not yet.”  He closed his eyes through a new wave of nausea.  “So it’s just you and Rory?”  He tried to make his sluggish brain work.  Their Cambridge bungalow had two-and-a-half bathrooms, at least.  That meant three toilets.  And three of them were sick.

“I had a couple of bites,” Noa admitted.  “Does that mean I’m doomed too?”  She was rubbing Rory’s back and he let out a meaty burp.  

“I had some too.”  Gabe stood up and pulled Logan with him.  “We’re going to leave before things get worse.”  He rested his hand on his middle for a second.  “I should be able to make it home.”  

“Okay,” said Drew heavily. “Text us later.”   He knew he should probably figure out Rory, but just then Jeremiah burped into his fist and more color drained from his face.  

“Excuse me,” he muttered before rushing off down the hallway. Drew really wanted to follow him, although maybe he should also stay close to the half-bath.  His rubbed his hand across his damp brow, trying to think through the nausea.

“Fuck, is he puking already?” Rory groaned. “What should I do?” 

“I suggest staying close to a bathroom.”  

Adam was still on the loveseat, looking bright-eyed and clearly not ill.  He shrugged at Drew.  “I’m not really a chocolate mousse guy myself.  Looks like I’m going to be the last man standing here.”  He looked down the hall to where Jeremiah had disappeared.  “I’ll stay over tonight and take care of all your sorry selves.”  

Drew stifled a belch into his fist.  “You’re not a nurse.”  Even feeling like hell he wanted to make it clear who’d be taking care of his boyfriend.

“I think I can manage pouring Gatorade and feeding you all crackers,” grinned Adam.  He seemed almost amused by the entire situation.  “Assuming you’ve got some; otherwise I’ll go out before we get completely snowed in.”

“Good . . . good idea,” agreed Drew.  “There’s a . . . a CVS three blocks away.  Make a left out the front door.”   He turned back towards the hallway just in time to see Rory gag over his lap from his seat on the sofa.  

“Fuck Rory, please make it to a toilet,” he groaned under his breath.  And Noa, bless her, nodded.  

Her own face was pale but she seemed to be in better shape than her boyfriend as she slowly hauled him to his feet.  “We’re taking the guest room.”  She swallowed hard.  “And a garbage can.”

“The half-bath’s free too,” Drew reminded her, although he had half a mind to make a stop there himself.  But instead he shuffled slowly down to the master suite, cursing under his breath to whoever it was that invented chocolate mousse in the first place.

The bathroom door was cracked open which either meant Jeremiah wanted company or he’d been in too much of a rush to close it all the way. Drew approached slowly, cautious of his boyfriend’s privacy, even though there was very little the two hadn’t seen.  A harsh, grating burp echoed out of the room, and then a second, wetter one followed.  Jeremiah groaned and Drew decided to forget decorum and pushed his way in. 

His boyfriend was on his knees in front of the toilet, rocking back and forth as he forced up burp after burp, panting in between each one.  Drew inched forward, not sure his own stomach was ready to see too much, but the water in the bowl was still mostly clear.  Jeremiah burped again and he spit out thick saliva before burying his head in his hands.  

“I’m going to kill the bakery,” he groaned.  He turned his head to look blearily at Drew.  “How are you holding up, love?”

“I need to throw up soon,” he admitted.  “Adam went to buy Gatorade.”

“Well good for Adam,” Jeremia muttered.  He burped again and then sat back on his heels and for the first time Drew realized he wasn’t wearing his pants, but only his boxer briefs.  

“Did you have . . . diarrhea?” he asked weakly past the stickiness in his mouth.  He was trying to gauge how much time he had before he needed to take his place over the toilet.  Jeremiah shook his head.

“They were tight,” he ground out.  “This is not the way I wanted to get naked with you.”  He spit again.  “I really need to get it up but I just keep burping.”

Drew braced himself on the sink as a wave of dizziness washed over him.  “Maybe . . . maybe I can go first.”  He gagged, drooling into the sink.  There was a sudden heavy hand on his back.

“I wish this was turning me on,” said Jeremiah mournfully.  “But it’s not.”  He pushed on Drew’s shoulder.  “Try to vomit, love.  You’ve got all those wings on top of the mousse to get up.”  He swallowed hard.  “But try to do it quickly please.”  

“No promises,” muttered Drew.   He lowered him slowly down to the ground, taking Jeremiah’s place in front of the toilet.  “And for the record, this isn’t turning me on either.”   As soon as he was in position his entire stomach seized with a fresh wave of cramping nausea.  “Oh god this sucks.”  He leaned forward and burped up a mouthful of chicken wings, and then another before being reduced to empty gags for the moment.  Finally he looked over at his boyfriend.  The man’s face was gray, and he was gulping down, gamely trying to keep his stomach under control while Drew was getting sick.

You’re going to owe me another night,” Drew croaked, reaching up to flush away the mess.  He knew he wasn’t done, but he also knew his boyfriend needed the space more right now..  

“Let’s make it through this one and you’ve . . .  got a deal,” agreed Jeremiah with a retch,  “Now move.” 

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Why can I never understand a story the first time I read it? I think my brain stops working sometimes. Anyways, loving the stories, guys, keeps me entertained even when I should be working, lol

I would love to answer any questions, though... 👀

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY GINA 💗💗 you're such a sweet human, I hope you have an amazing day today (or had, depending on your timezone lol).

AHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH! I hope you have an amazing day, too. You've accomplished so much in 4 years omg ❤️ (it's currently 4.30 here)

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AAAH!!

Hiking It Up

"Hey, Mr. Moan?" Max opened a Chesiree smile at the nickname, leaning against the doorway of Vince's classroom. It had taken him a while to work up the balls, after he made such a fool of himself in the cabin with Vin's friends and passed his stomach flu to the guy as payment for taking care of him, but finally Max felt steady enough once again to try and make right of the situation.

Vince was chewing on the top of his pen, reading his student's essays with a big frown on and looking genuinely offended, and the expression took a minute to fade as he raised his head, "yeah? Oh, hi!"

Max's smile stretched even more as he saw the frown melt into a happy grin, Vince going from a wolf to a puppy in seconds, "essay's no good?"

"No, it's alright," Vin scoffed, lowering the paper again, "except for the fact there's an explain the concept of Mutually Assured Destruction (MAD) and how it impacted the Cold War arms race prompt in the middle of it," he circled the sentence with his pen, so strongly Max cringed on behalf of the poor loser who had just tried to use AI against Vince, "I fucking hate that stupid thing."

"It's mutual," Max entered the room, sitting on one of the desks, "so, uh- Are you free tomorrow?"

Vince's eyebrows raised, essay momentarily forgotten. His cheeks turned pink, brows meeting, "are you asking me out...?"

"What!? No!" Max squealed, cursing himself. So much for confidence, uh? "No, Monacelli, I was just- Ah, forget it."

"What?" Vince frowned at him, "you were just what?"

"It's- I'm going hiking, I was wondering if you wanted to join..." Max grumbled, dragging his fingers over his beard, nervously. Honestly, his backtracking didn't make it seem like any less of a date.

Vince probably realized that, because he was studying Max as if he was the biochemist in the room and Max was a very intriguing bug he had just found- "Sure," he shrugged, "I've never hiked before."

"You've ne- Sure? You're coming with?" Max spluttered, shocked, and Vince shrugged once again, looking confused.

"Didn't you just invite me?"

"I did!" He said quickly, "I did! And it's not a date, I swear, I'd never- You have a girlfriend, I would never- It's not a date," he bit his tongue, cringed at his own mumbling. Once upon a time, Max used to have game. Now he was a fucking mess all the time.

Vince was still staring at him, openly and unimpressed as if he was waiting for Max to stop with the hysterics. The blonde let out a frustrated sigh, he always felt so incredibly out of his depth, and really Vince was not hot enough to warrant this fucking behavior. He wasn't.

"Are we leaving after lunch?" Vince asked, oblivious to Max's mental breakdown, leaning back on his chair and removing his hair tie. His curls fell around his head like a dark mane and he combed his fingers through them, massaging his scalp and probably trying to shoo away a headache, "Max?"

Okay, maybe Vin was hot enough to warrant a breakdown. Maybe.

Max squinted at him, "yeah, after lunch," he said slowly, trying to keep his tone cool and steady, "I assumed you'd be game, since you don't have the last period tomorrow."

"Yeah, absolutely," Vince shrugged, "do I need to bring something? How does it work?"

"Gym pants and hiking boots if you have them, or any boots with a rubber sole," Max got up, deciding it was in his best interest to get the fuck out of the classroom, "charged phone, charging bank if you have that, good water bottle."

"Alright," Vince opened a large smile, dimples appearing on his cheeks and Max's heart hiccupped and he almost walked into the doorway, "I'll text if I have any questions."

"Yeah, do that," Max waved at him, dismissively, before walking out without a second glance back. How he was supposed to survive a full day hiking with Vin when it was such a hard time to even invite him out, he wasn't sure.

-----------

Max was in a really good mood as the next day rolled around. It was very sunny out and he had packed a bag with everything they might need and more.

He had picked a mild difficulty hike. Nothing too hard, but nothing so easy that Vince could do it in his sleep either, he had learned the hard way to not underestimate the ex-football star.

Vince was waiting for him in the parking lot, already changed out of his normal teacher clothes and into track pants and a compression shirt, as well as a tactel jacket.

"What do you think?" He asked, all but beaming, and it took Max a second to realize what he meant. His hair was up, but this time pulled back by one dutch braid that ended in a ponytail.

"How the hell-"

"I asked Soph to do it for me," Vince's cheeks turned pink, as he lowered his head so Max could see the braid better, "I feel like a viking."

Max rolled his eyes, inspecting the braid closer and raising his eyebrows, "yeah, I can see the resemblance. Ready to go?"

"Yep!" Vince straightened up, vibrating with energy.

It was a thirty minutes drive out of town and Max checked his bag once more, before jumping out of his truck, "alright, so our goal is to get to the waterfall at the top of the mountain," he explained, checking his water bottle, "it'll be a lot of hiking up, a little bit of rock climbing, crossing a river... Nothing too strenuous though, and the final view will make it all worth it."

"Okay," Vince was bouncing on his feet, "and do we have an amount of time?"

"It's not a competition," Max snorted, amused and gesturing for the brunette to follow him into the forest, "though I'd rather we made it there before sunset."

"On it, dude," Vince continued ahead, as if he knew the way and Max rolled his eyes, letting him keep walking until he stopped, clearly lost.

"Stay behind me, dumbass," he grinned, poking Vince's ribs.

They fell into rhythm quickly. Max didn't feel like he had to slow down at all for Vin, in fact, at several moments he felt a little breathless, while Vince was still yapping non stop, seemingly unbothered by the mountain inclination.

It was only after they had to cross the river that Max noticed Vince's speech seemed to reduce. He clearly had run out of subjects: the school, gossip about other teachers, the students, the nature, little tidbits about his childhood, the game past Wednesday that Max certainly hadn't watched and Vince narrated play by play...

"Do you need a minute?" Max teased him, wiping the sweat off his brow and leaning against a tree. He took several gulps of his water, breathing out slowly to calm his heart race. His cheeks were so red from the hiking that they felt like they were burning, but at least this time it wasn't due to embarrassment.

Vince flipped him off, planting his hands on his knees, "Got- Steep..." he gasped, before letting out a little breathy burp, "ugh, I don't feel well."

Max snorted, walking closer and planting a hand on his back, "straighten up, you're not helping yourself hunched like that-" he reached for Vince's untouched water bottle, "c'mon, take a sip."

The man's lips curled in disgust, face pale, and he wrinkled his nose, "if I drink anything now, it's coming back up."

Max rolled his eyes, ushering him to drink, "you're just nauseous because you were showing off, idiot," he pushed the bottle again, "take a small sip and we can sit down for a bit."

Vince let out a groan, taking the tiniest sip he could manage, then sat down on the stomped grass and humid gravel, "I wasn't showing off," he groaned, letting his head hang between his knees, "It was easy."

"Yeah, but you're not used to this type of exercise," Max patted his arm in amicable manner, "you're a football player, you're not meant to be hiking for hours and hours."

Vince did a small shrug, showing he understood and agreed, then planted a hand on his stomach, rubbing it and bringing up yet another dainty little burp.

"Take another sip," Max bossed, sitting down as well and leaning back, basking under the sun. He fell flat on his back, not caring about getting his shirt dirty or his hair and heard Vince let out another queasy groan.

"So what do you enjoy about this?" The man asked after another minute of silence, now much less breathless, "it's very quiet."

"The nature," Max shrugged, opening his eyes to look up at the trees and the very blue sky, "the exercise itself. Pushing myself. The animals. I have a picture with a bear cub!"

"You what!? That's so dangerous!" Vince cried out, but Max waved him off, fishing his phone to show him the picture.

"It was cute," he defended, "but yeah, I like the nature-"

"Isn't it lonely though?" Vince frowned, before smiling, "very cute picture, I'll give you that."

"Thanks," Max retrieved his phone, but his smile faltered now, "I don't think it's lonely..." he defended, feebly, "I mean, I guess? I don't- I don't do this to be alone, I'm just alone in general and I couldn't just sit at home every day so..."

Vince was staring at him again, as if Max was a puzzle, and it made him incredibly uncomfortable. He fidgeted, glaring at the other man, "what?"

"Do you feel lonely?" Vin asked, softly, voice a whole octave deeper and quieter, "being alone so much?"

Max's stomach sank and he opened his mouth to deny, then no sound came out and he clenched his jaw, looking away. His eyes were burning out of sudden and he regretted being in the middle of the fucking woods with Vince and no way to avoid this conversation, nowhere to run.

"We should get going-"

"Max," Vince frowned, not bothering to move, looking up as Max raised up to his feet, "Max."

He pressed his lips into a thin line, balling up his fists and kicked a rock away, down the mountain, "I'm not your charity project," Max said, strongly, meeting Vince's eyes, "I know you think that, I can feel the judgement and I'm not- I don't want you to be my friend because you feel pity of me and I don't need-"

"I don't," Vince shrugged, frowning at him, "I think you're a dick."

Max's mouth hung open, slapped into silence for a minute, before he let out a scoff, "no, the fuck, you don't! You're always around me now! You're not- You're lying!"

"No," Vince rolled his eyes, "I think you're a dick. I think you're a guy who came from a rough background and that you became a fucking twat because it was easier to push people away than to be rejected and I think that sucks, but I do not feel pity for you. You're a dick."

Max's cheeks burned and he looked at Vince in disbelief, eyes widening, "wow. If I'm so much of a dick then why you're-"

"You're a dick. But you're loyal and you have a huge heart, you're funny even if sometimes you're a little too mean and I like spending time with you. I don't pity you, Max," Vince made a little offended face, scoffing, "but I do think you're lonely, yeah."

This time Max didn't have a single answer, he only stared at Vince, trying to swallow down the knot in his throat and ignore the prickling in his eyes, fists still tightly balled.

Vin got up, patting his ass to get rid of the leaves, then clasped a hand on Max's shoulder, "so- Which way?"

It took him a second to collect himself, so Max simply pointed ahead and let himself fall behind. They continued to walk up, in silence, while Max's mind whirled with Vince's words.

He was so in his head, that he completely missed a hole in the ground and shoved his left foot right in it and then there was a crack and Max's vision went white with pain.

He let out a scream, falling down and cradling his ankle, going deaf and blind as the hot iron pain wrapped around his whole leg- He dared to open his eyes and then saw a flash of white in the middle of the red and his stomach immediately squeezed, nausea sending up hot bile and causing him to fold in half, throwing up in the leaves.

There was a string of something being said, chanted really, next to his head and Max's spine gave up on holding him, black spots dancing in his vision-

"No nononono, Max! MAX!" Vince shook his shoulder, cradling him with one arm, "don't pass out! C'mon, please, please don't pass out!"

[gblogg]

HAPPY NEW YEAR LOVELIES!!! I hope this year brings you all joy and I hope you achieve everything you want 💕

[gblogg]

I knew Leo's sneezes would be cute! I knew it.

Hi Soup! I'm definitely not back just yet, but I have this question that's been bugging me for so long. I asked Lis this already, but I wanted to ask you. How do your ocs sneeze? I know this is super weird, but I've always been curious 👀

Also, I will catch up on all your posts as soon as I can! (Bella pregnant?? Hmm) 🫣

- G

Hi G, how are you?

I've been thinking of this ask since you sent it, I realized I had no idea... So making it up as I go!

Wendy: Although everyone thinks hers would be squeaky and tiny, Wendy has actually pretty loud sneezes and she always sneezed 3 times in a row!

Bella: Queen of getting sneezes stuck, so she'll be left staring at a lamp trying to coax it back. Normally a one and done deal, a little noisy.

Luke: You know those dad-attention-seeking sneezes that shake a house' structure? That's Luke with his first sneezes, when he wants to be babied. The worse he feels, though, the quieter his sneezes become.

Vince: Vin sneezes quietly, but with his whole body. Often drops whatever he's holding or knocks something over. Also he sneezes four or five times in a row!

Leo: Tiny rat sneezes that everyone, Jon specifically, find sooooo adorable. Like what the fuck, I wasn't aware your body could produce such squeaky cute noises??

Jonah: Like Bell, he's a "one and done" sort, but his sneezes are generally very loud. He tries to hide them by pinching his nose and it HURTS and also makes him dizzy, so he's learning to stop doing this bs and just sneeze.

Max: Not too loud sneezes, but once he starts it takes him a while to stop. He also gets completely clogged up and sooo annoyed by it.

[gblogg]

could you write another ezme and rose fic . Maybe one of them could have appendicitis and the other just thinks they have a bad stomachache.

Sorry this took so long, lovely! I hope it is what you asked for, too. This is a little shorter than I expected, so there will obviously be multiple parts.

*******

The late afternoon sunlight poured through the curtains in the small living room, reflecting on the hardwood floor. Rose was curled up on the plush couch, her fingers absently twirling a strand of her auburn hair as she scrolled through her phone. The soft clicks of her nails punctuated the peaceful atmosphere of the apartment they shared.

In the corner of the room, Ezme was seated, her feet tucked beneath her on the cushy armchair. She had a thick book splayed open on her lap, but her eyes were barely glancing at the lines of text. Instead, she was focused on the gnawing discomfort in her abdomen, a sensation she had dismissed for a few days now, attributing it to nothing more than a passing stomach ache.

Ezme had always been stubborn; that much Rose knew all too well. With her long, wavy hair and fierce green eyes, she could be an impenetrable force. Rose adored everything about her—her determined spirit, her quick wit, how she supposedly ‘never needed help’. The  woman could hardly resist smiling at her girlfriend, who leaned back and threw her head back dramatically, mock-huffing over her book.

"Ezme, can you just put the book down for a second and let me give you a massage?" Rose suggested, hoping to coax her into some semblance of comfort. 

With a feigned sigh, Ezme turned toward her and flashed a dismissive wave of her hand, her features twisted into a playful scowl. “No way, baby. I’m fine. Just a little tummy ache, that’s all.” She perked her lips in a pout, her attempt at appearing carefree and unbothered, not fully convincing Rose. 

“Tummy ache? Since yesterday?” Rose raised an eyebrow, a smirk creeping onto her lips. “Mon petit dragon, I don’t think that’s normal, especially for you,” she teased, her lilting accent wrapping around the words like a warm embrace. 

Ezme snorted and rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile that crept onto her face. “Whatever you say,” she responded, attempting to brush off her discomfort. She managed a burp, and both of them dissolved into laughter, the sound brightening the sleepy room. 

But soon, Ezme’s laughter faded. Her hand drifted to her stomach, fingers pressing tentatively against the fabric of her shirt. The pressure intensified, tightening like a band around her midsection, and she bit her lip in discomfort. 

“Seriously, Ez, I think you need to see a doctor,” Rose pressed, concern pooling in her blue eyes. 

“I’m not going to a doctor for a stupid stomach ache!” Ezme shot back, her voice rising slightly. “You worry too much, babe.”

Rose let out a gentle sigh, her heart aching at the stubbornness swirling before her. “And you don’t worry enough. That’s called balance, ma chérie.” 

Ezme huffed again and sat up, the movement causing another wave of discomfort to wash over her. “I’m fine, Rose. Really,” she insisted, though the strain in her voice was recognisable. 

“Are you?” Rose questioned softly, determination etching her voice. The concern deepened within her chest, squeezing tighter as she moved to sit on the edge of the couch, half-turned towards her girlfriend, continuing to gauge her. 

And just when she thought Ezme might relent, the moment spiralled. She doubled over, a sharp gasp escaping her lips. Rose’s heart raced, a panic gripping her as she reached out instinctively to touch her shoulder.

“Ezme, hey—” 

With her head bowed, Ezme groaned softly, sweeping her hands over her abdomen. “I just need… a minute,” she panted, struggling to catch her breath. 

But Rose was having none of it. She gently coaxed Ezme’s arms until they were wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer as she nestled her chin atop her head. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. T’es ma championne, but sometimes you need to lean on someone else.” 

Ezme shifted slightly, the warmth of Rose burrowing deep into her bones. Despite her façade of strength, she could feel the edges of vulnerability creep in, but she wasn't ready to admit it. “I’m fine,” she repeated, yet her stomach betrayed her with a sudden gurgle loud enough to make both of them jump. 

Rose laughed softly but then quickly became serious again as Ezme’s eyes widened in discomfort. “What if it’s really bad?” Her tone was almost pleading. 

But Ezme shook her head, stubbornness clashing against her pain. “I said I’m fine. Stop overreacting, Rose. You sound like a mother,” she snapped, though it was more of a reflex than a true accusation. 

“Mother or not, I don’t like seeing you like this..” Rose’s voice was calm, a soothing balm to Ezme’s  doubts. 

But when Ezme next stood to prove her point, the pain swelled like a tidal wave, crashing through her resolve. “No—no I can’t—” Before she could finish her sentence, she suddenly doubled over, this time a harsh retch escaping her. 

Rose reached out instinctively, panic overtaking her as she grasped Ezme’s shoulders, guiding her towards the small bathroom just off the living room. “Sweetheart, come on, you need to—”

Just as they reached the door, Ezme lost her battle against the nausea, pulling away from Rose in a desperate attempt to make it to the toilet. She slumped to her knees, the wave of pain forcing a sob from her lips as she grasped the cool porcelain, feeling helpless.

“Ezme!” Rose cried out, feeling utterly useless as she hovered nearby, not quite knowing what to do.

“I don’t like this… I- It hurts” Ezme gasped, the obstinate warrior in her decreasing. 

Rose knelt beside her, brushing the hair away from Ezme’s pale face, placing a kiss to her forehead. “I know, I know, ma chérie. I just want to help you. Please let me.” 

Ezme gasped for breath, her stubbornness crumbling under the weight of pain. “Okay… okay, I’ll go…” she murmured through gritted teeth. 

But Rose shook her head, holding onto her girlfriend tighter, determined to not let go. “You’re going to be okay, Ez. I’m right here,” she whispered, her heart aching as she simply cradled her girlfriend, breathing through the unfolding chaos together.

[gblogg]

Rant

Is this what it feels like to be a new writer? This appendix fic is honestly the hardest fic I've ever tried to write! I wanted to have multiple parts, but I just have no idea what I'm writing. Is there something that I'm missing? This is stressful, but I will not give up!!

#sendhelp lol 😔

[gblogg]

I have to catch up rn bc this was everything!

Alright, if you follow the plot of my OCs, this one is not an optional story! 🙈

-----------------

"Yeah?" Leo picked up his phone already frowning, since his screen displayed Wicked Witch of the West as the caller, "Wendy?"

"Hiii..." Wendy's voice was sugary and his frown deepened, causing Leo to stop chopping vegetables, "are you busy...?"

"Is something wrong? With you? Vin?"

"No, no, nothing is wrong! We're all fine!" Wendy was quick to say, her voice going a note up and Leo squinted, annoyed.

"Then I'm busy."

"Ah," she sounded so defeated, "okay..."

He was not going to feel guilty. He was not going to feel guilty. He was not going-

"What do you want, Wendy?"

She let out a little squeal and Leo rolled his eyes so much they nearly got stuck, "soooo, uhm- are you free tomorrow night?"

"Jonah's in Paris, yeah, I'm free," Leo said bitterly. He was being the world's most supportive fiancé to Jonah's face, but to Wendy he could let out his full bitchiness show.

"Great," Wendy was clearly smiling, "I need you to be my partner in something."

"No."

"You don't even know what it is!"

Leo let out a groan, "what is it?"

"Ballroom dancing," she said it quickly and before he could tell her that absolutely not, Wendy continued to speak, "look! It's just one experimental class, I just wanna know if I'll like it! Please! Bella said she won't go and Vin is away."

"Ask Lucas," Leo scoffed, "he'll love it."

"He already knows how to ballroom dance and Bella's super jealous of him, no thanks," Wendy whined, "please? Hell, I'll pay you-"

"I don't want your money," Leo wrinkled his nose, "can't you just wait until Vin is in town? He's coming over Friday night."

"No, the classes are only Tuesday and Thursday nights..." Wendy was doing her best imitation of a kicked puppy, he knew without even looking at her, "please, Leo."

"It'll only be one class?" he asked, cringing as he heard her celebrating.

"Only one class, I promise!"

"Alright," he started to wipe his messy hands to grab his phone and hung up as Wendy continued to speak: wear track pants! And comfy shoes!

--------------

Leo was standing outside of Wendy's building, questioning his life choices, when his frenemy walked out. Unlike him, who had come straight from work and was wearing exactly what she told him to, Wendy was clad in a red flowy dress, with layers and layers, reaching just past her knees.

She lit up as she saw him, "I'm glad you came!"

Leo raised an eyebrow, "am I gonna regret this?"

"Do you know how to dance?" Wendy circled his car to get in the passenger side and Leo scowled.

"No..."

"Then what a better time to learn than now? You know Jonah knows how to waltz, right?" Wendy entered the car and Leo squinted at her, getting in the driver's seat as she typed the address in her phone's GPS.

"So what if Jonah knows? He knows a bunch of shit I don't, it's not a competition," Leo drummed his fingers against the steering wheel and Wendy let out a heavy sigh, as if he was stupid.

"So you're marrying the guy. Couples typically have a first waltz when they marry and Jon said you wanna do the whole traditional thing, so I'm guessing that as well?" Wendy smiled at him smugly, "you want to keep up with him, right?"

Leo knew he was being manipulated, that didn't stop it from working. He clenched his jaw and turned up his music, causing Wendy to let out an amused huff and look out of her window.

The dance school was across town, a brown building with a brightly lit sign hanging over the door, of a couple dancing. The metal gates were open, so was the front door and a very old receptionist was sitting in the cramped entry hall.

"You must be the Marshall's?" the woman opened a sweety smile when she saw them, "here for the experimental class?"

"God, no-"

"Yes," Wendy squeezed his arm, glaring at him, "Wendy Marshall and Leo Wagner."

"Oh, forgive me, I just assumed," the woman shook her head in an apologetic manner, "they're already warming up, so you better hurry. Down the hall, up the stairs."

"Thank you", Wendy was all smiles as she dragged Leo forward and he started to feel himself lagging behind. He hated doing new things, meeting new people. How did Wendy convince him to join this public humiliation, he wasn't sure.

The second floor had a huge ball room, with mirrors up against a wall, very similar to a ballet studio, except for the couples scattered around and the lack of the support bars along the walls.

"Wendy!" A woman in her late forties said from across the room. Leo turned to look at her, then froze.

She was a tall, skinny woman, with incredibly light blonde hair and striking blue eyes. A severe face, but the illusion was shattered by the smile stretching her thin lips.

"I'm so glad you came!" The woman, probably the teacher, said, crossing the room to meet up with them. She frowned as she felt Leo's gaze on her, blonde brows meeting, "is this the boyfriend you mentioned?"

"No, that's just my friend, Leo," Wendy cleared up, turning to look at him and shake the woman's hand. Leo gulped down around nothing, feeling the air stop in his lungs.

The United States was huge. It was a twenty seven hour drive from Oklahoma to Maine. And out of every fucking place that Amelia could be in, she was there. Standing in front of him, not recognizing him.

"Leo?" Wendy shook his shoulder and Amelia's frown deepened.

"Is he okay?"

"What- What are you doing here?" Leo glared at the woman in front of him. His voice didn't sound like his own. He didn't feel like himself, it was like he was watching the scene unfold out of his body.

The woman looked at Wendy, then at him, "I'm the owner of the studio... I'm sorry, have we met?"

Leo let out a hysterical chuckle.

There were many times he had wondered how it'd feel to see his mother again. Would he feel anger? Resentment? Sadness? Shock?

It had never crossed his mind that she wouldn't recognize him at all. Sure, he had long shed his baby traits, the man he was at nearly twenty six was a completely different person from the tiny ten year old with nearly white hair and too big ears he had been... But he was still her son, how could she not recognize him in the least, when he could easily pin point her through his blurry and faded memories.

"Leo?" Wendy was up in his face now, on her very tip toes and hands cupping his cheeks, sounding concerned, "sweetheart, what is it?"

The fact Wendy, of all people, was using a pet name caused another blubbering giggle to come up. His eyes stung, his hands were clammy and shaky as they closed around Wendy's wrist-

"You said your name is Leo?" Amelia repeated, moving closer and Leo took an instinctive step back, bringing Wendy with him.

It was a split second, but suddenly Wen's dark brows met and her bright green eyes widened, her heart shaped mouth falling into a comic O. She shook her head, glanced between Amelia, then Leo, then raised an eyebrow, "She's not-"

Leo felt like he couldn't breathe. He nodded and Wendy turned around quick as a wip, shoving him behind her as if she was not half his size, "we're leaving," her voice was a whole note louder, "don't even think of coming after us, you've done enough."

Amelia looked distraught and confused, blinking quickly, "no, I- I- Leo? Leo- Edward's Leo?"

It had been at least seven years since Leo had heard his father's name and the word caused his head to spin. He stumbled back and Wendy's grip on his shirt tightened, as if she could and would hold his whole weight in case he collapsed.

"C'mon, Leo, let's go," she turned around, clutching his bicep and shoving him to start moving. Leo took a couple stumbling steps back and Amelia followed, the rest of the class entirely forgotten, looking a bit drunk herself.

"You can't- What are you doing here? In Maine-"

"Stop," Wendy's tone was sharp as she glared at the woman, "Leo, let's go, we need to go-" with another push, he allowed himself to turn around and be all but dragged down the stairs. Ignoring the shouting of his name in the background, the iron grip Wendy was keeping in his bicep-

They stumbled out of the building and he fell like a drunk to his car, bracing against the metal door and trying to catch his breath. Wendy's hand was in the middle of his back, rubbing, and he could feel the nervous energy emanating from her, like a light bulb on the corner of his eye.

"She- Oh my fucking God-" he hyperventilated, not missing the fact this was a horrible place to stop, right in front of the dance studio.

"I know," Wendy couldn't possibly know anything, but her voice was like a lifeboat in the storm and Leo clung to it, nodding along her rambling, "we're leaving, you can't stay here-" her hand entered his pocket without warning, fishing out the car keys and then Leo was ushered inside the passenger seat, despite the fact Wendy had pulled at it earlier and made the whole place cramped.

She shut the door, then ran around the car and got in the driver's side, not even bothering to fiddle with the seat and sitting at the very edge in order to drive.

Leo leaned back against the leather, tugging on his shirt with such a force he ripped the first button, gasping for air. He looked up, at the car ceiling, mind spiraling.

Amelia was in town. Amelia lived in his town. This whole time- Had she been there before he even arrived? Had part of him, somehow, known she'd be in Weston and that was why he picked that scholarship out of all the others? How-

"I thought-" Leo choked up and he hadn't realized he had started to cry, but now he noticed there were tears running down his cheeks and his throat was so tight it nearly hurt, "I thought- Fuck-"

Wendy let out a little wounded noise, almost a mew, and reached without looking, her small hand finding her way to his knee in order to comfort him. Leo wrapped his hand on top of hers, squeezing her fingers and trying to ground himself.

What he could hear? The honks of traffic. Wendy's soft cursing, in full yankee. His own hiccupping sobs. The car humming-

What he could smell? Wendy's sweet perfume. Sea salt, because they were near the port area of the city- Trees.

"Pullover-" Leo slurred, whole body jumping with a heave as his stomach threw the towel, "Wendy, PULL-"

The car came to a screeching halt on the side of the street, in some half empty residential area, and Leo threw the door open hastily, barely managing to hang his head out of it before his dinner made a nasty reappearance over the humid tarmac.

He coughed, the sobs turning into gags once more and spat up another mouthful of acidic sludge, his nose and throat burning, whole body shivering violently.

"Shhh-shhh, I got you," Wendy whispered softly and Leo squeezed the door handle, his other hand in the partition between the front and backseat, white knuckling it. He felt her one of her hands coming to cup his forehead, Wendy squeezing his shoulder in a sweet manner, "get it up, you're okay, sweetheart-"

Leo spat the bitter taste, sniffling grossly. His whole head was pounding, warm... "Fuck," he said eloquently, straightening up and falling back against his seat. Wendy let out a small snort, pushing his hair back and waiting patiently for him to be able to say a whole sentence.

"I didn't- I didn't think I'd ever see her again," he admitted, after a good handful of minutes passed. His head was still spinning and Leo wasn't sure if he felt... Angry or relieved or sad. Right now he just felt nauseous, defeated... Empty.

Wendy didn't say anything, continuing to pet his hair and Leo closed his eyes to avoid her concerned gaze. He pressed his lips into a thin line, swallowing down the knot in his throat that he didn't know if it was nausea or more tears, "I hoped I'd never see her again," he whispered, then wiped his mouth and nose with his sleeve, "I can't believe she didn't even-"

"Fuck her," was Wendy's first coherent sentence since they had left the studio and it was startling enough to cause Leo to open his eyes and chuckle, "fuck her so much," Wen repeated, glaring at him to show how serious she was, "she doesn't deserve you, she never did."

His watery laughter very quickly morphed into tears and Leo folded in half, all but falling straight into Wendy's arms, hiding his face against her neck as she hugged him sideways in the side of the road. He could feel his sobs wrecking through her, as Wendy pressed her lips to the top of his head, squeezing him closer.

[gblogg]

Barf Bingo, Part V

M is for Migraine, S is for Seasickness, F is for Food Poisoning, I is for Indigestion.

A/N: And it's done! I feel a little like Oprah: "you get to puke, and you get to puke, and you get to puke!"

Jeremiah wanted to cry.  Or laugh.  Or throw up.  Possibly all three. Instead, he stood frozen while Gabe finished heaving up what looked like a mouthful of thick water and then gagged emptily over the floor.  

Then his medical training kicked in.  Pushing down the remnants of his own nausea, he grabbed Gabe from behind in a backwards hug and manhandled him over to the second sofa, wincing in sympathy as the man cried out in pain.

“Sorry,” Jeremiah grunted, out of breath.  “But the faster you’re lying down, the better.” Still, he tried to be more gentle as he lowered Gabe flat onto the sofa, where he immediately curled up onto his side and squeezed his eyes shut. 

“He hasn’t . . . eaten since breakfast.”  Logan’s voice was laced with nausea but she seemed to have stopped retching. She moved gingerly around the sofa and collapsed into a chair.   “He ordered up food but the smell made me sick. so he threw it out even though I told him that was stupid.”  Her eyes didn’t leave the figure of her boyfriend writhing on the couch as she spoke.

“Fuck; I was supposed to bring you a scopolamine patch.  I’m so sorry.”  Jeremiah grimaced and  gestured around the wreck of the living room.  “Things got a bit . . . out of hand here.”  

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” she said dryly.  She frowned as Gabe’s body contorted with a retch.  “I guess he fell asleep when I did, and then woke up with the migraine so it was too late to take meds.”  She burped softly into her fist.  

“Right.  Let’s get you sorted first.”  Jeremiah tried to get his fuzzy brain to focus for just a little bit longer.  It wasn’t much worse than the end of a 36 hour shift during residency, right?  He’d worked with the stomach flu before; a little indigestion should be a piece of cake, even if the idea of cake made him want to gag.

“There’s . . . ice.  In the minibar. Wrap it in a  . . . a towel and put it behind his neck.”  Drew was still draped awkwardly over the back of the sofa and he was speaking so stiffly Jeremiah knew he was fighting nausea again.

“If you’re going to insist on armchair nursing at least sit the fuck back down.”  Jeremiah glared at his boyfriend until he shakily lowered himself back onto the cushions, landing with a grunt.  He immediately closed his eyes and began breathing slowly through his mouth and Jeremiah grabbed up the damn ice bucket that was still sitting on the floor and shoved it back into Drew’s lap.  

“Please vomit in that and not on yourself; I don’t have the energy to haul your ass to the shower right now..”  He was running through a list in his head, trying to figure out what to do first: Gabe’s ice, Logan’s seasickness patch, get another garbage can in case one of them needed to vomit again, or should he call down to the ship’s medical bay?  And then there were Noa and Rory - how were they doing?  Did anyone need more help than he could give alone?  He had to figure this out, and fast.

Behind him, Drew burped harshly and then blew out a breath.  “I’m not gonna puke,” he growled when Jeremiah jumped.  “Get Logan’s patch first, then ice for Gabe.”  He gulped a couple of times and then continued.  “And then water for them both to sip, unless we’ve got gatorade here.”  He waved his hand in the direction of the mini-fridge.  “You’ve got your ‘overthinking resident’ face on.  Stop it and do what the nurse says.”  He slumped back into the sofa cushions, breathing hard but looking pleased with himself, in a sickly sort of way.

“God I love you,” Jeremiah muttered.  “I’m getting you water too; your eyes look sunken.”  He rested his hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder for a second

“Won’t keep it down yet.”  Drew looked suddenly uncomfortable.  He slowly put the ice bucket on the floor, grimacing, and Jeremiah knew what was wrong before he spoke.  

“Looks like I am going to be hauling your ass to the bathroom.”  He slid an arm around Drew’s back and pulled him slowly to his feet.  “Can you help me walk?” 

Drew gave a tight nod.  “Ours,” he said thickly, turning in the direction of their cabin.  

The half bath was closer, but Jeremiah didn’t waste time arguing. Drew’s face was pasty and he barely seemed to have the strength to put one foot in front of the other.  As soon as Jeremiah got him sitting on the toilet, he leaned forward and buried his head in his arms.  

“I’m never eating . . . uhhlp . . . cream puffs again,” he groaned into his lap while Jeremiah rifled through his toiletry bag for the anti-seasickness patches.  Drew swayed woozily and Jeremiah pushed the upper part of his body sideways until it rested against the wall.  One good thing about the cabin having such a small bathroom, at least.  

“Please don’t fall off the toilet until I get back here to help you up.”  He grabbed a hand towel and then, for good measure, Drew’s regular anti-nausea meds, popping one into his own cheek and letting it dissolve.  Hopefully it would ease his own queasiness enough to let him finish checking on everyone else.  

Drew’s eyes were closed but he gave a shaky thumbs up.  “Can you -” he swallowed hard, “-get me the garbage can before you go?” His throat bobbed.  “Jus’ in case.” His body jolted with a small heave. 

“Fuck, Drew; you can’t have any liquid left in you,” Jeremiah sighed.  As soon as he stuck the can under the man’s head he tried to spit.  Not much came up and Jeremiah swore again.  He wanted to stay here and baby his boyfriend, but Logan and Gabe were still waiting in the living room.  And Noa probably needed to be checked too; he had no idea how dehydrated she was by now.  He squeezed Drew’s shoulder. 

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised.  Drew gave him another thumbs up.

Back in the living room, Gabe was still lying down, rubbing his hands roughly into his forehead, but Logan was sitting very still, staring at the floor.  Her throat bobbed and she audibly gulped, looking miserably at Jeremiah.  

“I should’ve made him eat something.”  She gagged lightly into her fist and wiped her hand impatiently across her mouth. Across the room, Gabe cracked open his eyes.  

“Not . . . not your fault,” he gasped.  “You’re sick.”  He dropped his head over the side of the couch so he could spit up on the floor and then rolled onto his back again.  “Fuck, it hurts.”

“Jus’ . . . jus’ seasick,” Logan protested. “Doesn’t count.”

"Yes it does," Gabe protested thickly before retching onto the floor again. He wasn't bringing much up so Jeremiah decided not to waste the energy of trying to find another garbage can.

“This is adorable kids, really, but how about we all try not puking for a little while?”  Jeremiah pressed the sticky circle patch behind Logan’s ear.  “Do you think you can keep down some water for me?”  Belatedly he realized he probably should have brought her one of the anti-nausea pills too, but the thought of walking all the way back to the bathroom to get one felt exhausting.  Logan shook her head.

“Help Gabe,” she commanded, even as he muttered back can you help her feel better?

“I’ll get her some meds to help until the patch kicks in,” Jeremiah promised, bending over the mini fridge to grab some ice. It was a mistake; as soon as he leaned down, it felt like the entire world tilted.  Despite the anti-nausea pill he’d just taken, his stomach rolled uncomfortably and he swallowed down saliva, eying the distance to the room’s half-bath.  Would throwing up make him feel better or worse? He couldn’t afford to get dehydrated himself right now.  

Although it looked like he wasn’t going to have a choice.  He threw ice cubes into the towel he was holding and lurched over to the sofa, barely able to speak over the heaviness in his jaw.  “Here,” he mumbled, pushing the ice pack onto the back of Gabe’s neck. “‘Scuse . . . scuse me for a second.”  He stumbled in the direction of the bathroom and dove for the toilet, making it just in time to lose more of his dinner and the horrible fish that had been upsetting his stomach all night.  Emptying himself out took longer than he expected, and he felt weak as a baby when he finally stopped heaving.  Slowly, he forced himself to his feet.  He still needed to check on Noa, and get back to Drew, and make it upstairs to get Gabe’s migraine meds and see if he could keep them down.  And get Logan some anti-nausea, and. . . water . . . and . . .towels . . . and . . . 

. . . And in the living room, Rory was holding a towel up to Gabe’s mouth as he heaved again.  Logan was holding a bottle of water and taking hesitant sips, and Noa, looking horribly pale and shaky but more or less alert, was curled up on the sofa where Drew had been.  

Rory gave Jeremiah a rather pleased grin.  “Get your boyfriend off the toilet; medics are on their way up.”  He wrinkled his nose.  “And a cleaning crew.  Apparently Noa and Drew aren’t the only passengers who ate the cream puffs, but I think we’re the only group who managed to have seasickness, migraines, and indigestion too.”  He turned back to the other sofa.  “You okay, sweetheart?  They’re coming up with an IV for you really soon.”  

Once again, Jeremiah wanted to cry.  “I love you,” he choked out instead, meaning it with every bit of his being.  Rory grinned again.  

“And I love you.  Now go get Drew so he can join in on our love fest here.”

“Better than the pukefest we’ve had so far.”  Gabe’s voice was strained, but there was an undercurrent of amusement in it.  Jeremiah snorted softly.

“And let us never speak of it again,” he said solemnly. 

[gblogg]

These little fics mean a lot to me!! @bellysoupset

Posting this and running away

---------------------------------

"What is this?" Jonah chuckled, gesturing vaguely to the image in front of him. This was easily the weirdest thing he had seen in a while.

Leo was inside the bathtub, with no water, in the middle of the day, wearing just his boxers, head leaning back and scrolling in his ipad.

"Hey," the blonde turned his head slightly, voice all soft, "missed you."

How could Jon not melt around this man? He entered further in the bathroom, crouching down to kiss his fiancé and Leo grimaced and pulled back, causing Jonah to whine, "what the hell?"

"You don't wanna kiss me," Leo cringed, "I ate something weird and it messed with me. I just puked," he gestured vaguely to the closed toilet with his head. Jonah raised his eyebrows, surprised.

Leo didn't look sick... But now that Jon looked closer he could tell the sweat clinging to his temples and over his lip. Instead of pale, he was flushed in a slightly unnatural way, specially given how cold their bathroom was.

"Is that why you're in the tub?"

"Yeah, still feel pukey," Leo groaned and slid down in the tub, resting his feet on the opposite end and dropping his ipad to the side. Now that it was no longer blocking Jonah's view, he could tell his fiance's abs were slightly bloated, the usual line separating its quadrants all but faded, "I don't know what's wrong with my office, you'd think such a fancy building would have a decent catering."

Jonah grinned, collapsing down on his ass instead of staying crouched down and leaned in to push Leo's hair back, away from his sweaty forehead. The blonde let out a happy noise at the hair pet, "why don't you come to bed? You can feel sick in the bedroom, where it's comfy."

Leo snorted at that, turning his head so his cheek was pressed to the cold rim of the tub and going boneless as Jonah petted his hair, "bedroom feels too warm, was making me claustrophobic."

"And the bathtub is not?"

"You may question my methods, but not my results," Leo smiled, looking up at him and grabbing the ditched iPad, "I want a March wedding."

"Okay?" Jon moved on the bathroom floor, stripping the thick wool vest he was wearing over his shirt and removing his belt so he was more comfortable, throwing them on top of the sink, "why March?"

"Because I don't wanna wait until October next year," Leo pouted, turning on the screen. Before Jon could question why March and October were the only options, Leo said, "I made a pinterest board."

Jonah couldn't stop smiling, it was embarrassing and hurting his cheek muscles, "you made a pinterest board," he echoed, amused and endeared to hell and back. Leo glared at him, pushing the iPad in his hands.

"Stop looking at me with this stupid smile and look at the board," he tapped the screen, then curled up with a grimace and planted a hand on his stomach, pressing slightly and bringing up a sick burp, "god..."

"Should I move from the line of fire?" Jonah squinted at Leo, noticing the way he was gulping down.

The man shook his head, taking another gulp, "swallowing air," he cleared up, "not gagging."

"Counter intuitive if your stomach hurts, no?"

"Trying to burp," Leo cleared up with a strained voice, digging his fingers in his tummy, until another little sickly burp came up, "urgh, it's stuck."

"My husband, the romantic," Jonah teased him with an eyeroll, then scooted closer, "sit up, let me thump your back."

"Like a baby?" Leo snorted, but obeyed and let out a pleased noise as Jonah started doing exactly that. A couple pats in and he brought up a large, brassy belch.

"UUruorup- Fuck, that felt nice," he hung his head between his knees, breathing out in relief, "look at the board."

"Bossy," Jonah glared at the side of his head, then actually looked at the board. It was a collection of farmhouse weddings and hotels and event-centers... None of it looked very Leo, "uhm- these are the ones you liked?"

"You hate them," Leo sighed, "I don't know, everything I'm able to find is either those ultra girly things that only Wendy could like or, if I search for gay-wedding, it's like they're competing to see who can be more cringy."

Jonah cackled at the bitchiness, earning himself a smile, "this is nice," he leaned against the tub, all but sprawled on the bathroom floor and pointing a picture of a tall, reflective ballroom. Leo draped himself over the edge, squinting at the screen.

"That's a cathedral, Jonah," Leo said dryly, "I'm not gonna get married in a church, thanks."

Jon let out a scoff, "it's in your board!"

"As inspiration! Because I like-" he cut himself off with a nauseated gulp, "the-the tall ceilings..." Leo's voice trailed off and he raised a hand to his mouth, the other one darting up so Jonah could help him up.

Jon was up in a flash, grabbing Leo's hand to hoist him up and leaving the iPad on top of their sink, while the blonde fell to his knees before the toilet and gagged weakly over the water.

He cringed in sympathy as Leo retched and a thin dribble of colored in spit fell in the water, causing him to say in a thick, nauseated voice, "Oh god..." then gag once more, bringing up a mouthful of frothy, beige vomit. Jonah gulped down against the knot in his throat, forcing his gaze away and planted a hand on Leo's naked back. He was covered in cold sweat, muscles seizing under Jon's hand as he continued to heave for another five minutes.

Leo let another sickly burp, the groaned and collapsed forward, causing Jonah to scramble to grab him by the shoulter, "don't split your head open, Leo!"

"Uhhmm, wasn't gonna..." He scoffed, pressing his forehead to the cold porcelain, "I still feel so queasy..."

Jonah hit the flush, then combed his fingers through Leo's sweaty bangs, touching his cheek and forehead inconspicuously. He wasn't feverish and Leo let out a little snort, "I know what you're doing, Dr. Banks..." he blew out another soft burp, "I wanna go to bed but I'm all sweaty..."

"Couch?" Jonah suggested and Leo lifted up his head, considering it for a minute before nodding.

"Yeah okay, help me up..."

It was a bigger hassle than expected, as Leo washed his face and brushed his teeth, only for the toothbrush to send him into another gagging fit, but eventually they managed to move into the living room and Leo collapsed down on the cushions with a sigh, "Jon..."

"I know, I know," he grinned, sitting next to the man and planting his hand on his boyfriend's bloated belly, "tummy rub."

"You're the love of my life," Leo said in a pleased tone, eyes slipping closed as Jonah started rubbing his hand in a soft, gentle circle over his distended abs. It wasn't much of a massage, but he was afraid of putting too much pressure, with all the angry gurgling going on inside.

JD, who had been very busy chasing her toy mice, perked up at the sudden company and jumped on the couch as well, meowing and stepping on Leo's thigh in order to headbutt Jonah's chin.

"She's ignoring me," Leo groaned, pressing a hand on his stomach, "I stepped on her tail earlier."

"Well, I can't blame her," Jonah scoffed, kissing the top of JD's head, "Leo didn't mean it, baby."

As if she understood him, JD crawled on Jon's lap, nuzzling the inside of his arm and letting out a happy meow. Leo opened his eyes to glare at the cat, pouting.

"It was an accident! I was rushing in," his stomach let out a loud growl and he squirmed, gulping down, "Jon..."

"Shit, give me a second," Jonah sprung up, taking JD with him, and rushed to their kitchen, in order to grab a bowl. By the time he made it back, ten seconds later, Leo had his eyes squeezed shut and was breathing slowly through his mouth as if he was giving birth.

"Here, here, here-" Jon pushed the bowl under his chin and Leo grabbed it with sweaty fingers, but didn't immediately retch. Jonah cringed, planting JD down and moving so he wasn't directly looking at the bowl, but could help Leo hold it up, "baby?"

A nauseated hiccup shook the blonde's frame and he let out a moan, leaning forward and drooling over the bowl, "fuck..." he cleared his throat, taking a deep breath, "my stomach hurts."

Jonah frowned, not liking this one bit. He hated the strong feeling of concern, over something so dumb like food poisoning, but he couldn't help it. Leo worried him always.

"Leo, no, don't do that!" Jonah groaned, as he realized his fiancee was shoving a finger down his throat to trigger his gag reflex, "don't force it-"

Leo shook his head, pulling back his hand and burping wetly over the bowl, "I can feel it in my stomach..." his voice was thick with queasiness and he hiccupped again, his belly letting out a disgusting wet sound, "Urgh, fuck..."

"Can I h-" he never finished that sentence, as there was a sudden wet noise in the back of Leo's throat and the blonde folded in half, projectile vomiting in the bowl.

He hung over it, panting as if he had just ran a marathon, before letting out a dainty little burp and another impressive stream of sick fell from his lips. Leo let out a whimper, coughing, then sighed, "Holy fuck... I feel tons better," he said hoarsely, causing Jonah to let out a disbelieving snort.

"Are you sure?" Jon scoffed, biting down a gag of his own, his mouth watering like crazy at the gruesome sight. Leo nodded, forcing up another burp.

"Yeah... Like crazy better," he rolled his shoulders, then let out a whine, "aw angel, you look grey. Sit down, I can clean this up-"

"No, I'm o-Oo-" Jonah interrupted himself with a retch and Leo let out a little giggle, planting a kiss in the inside of his wrist, since his boyfriend was sitting on the couch's arm, and slowly getting up.

"You're fine, uh?" He chuckled quietly, grabbing the bowl and gingerly walking to the bathroom to empty it out. Jon let out a humiliated sigh, sitting down on the couch and staring at his feet. He thought he was over this, he hated when Leo was feeling sick and his body decided to attention seek.

His belly clenched and he brought up a little sickly burp, breathing out slowly against the prickles of nausea... "Hey," Leo crouched in front of him, between Jon's knees, "you're okay? Are you sure it's just sympathy sickness?"

"Yep," Jon gulped down, nodding, "are you-"

"Really, I'm fine. That's on me for being too lazy to cross the street to go to the restaurant that I know won't make me ill," Leo rolled his eyes, leaning in and hugging Jonah by the waist.

In this weird position, with his boyfriend down to his knees in the rug, it was easy for Leo to drop his face to his lap and Jonah leaned back, starting to pet the golden waves of hair, "don't take this badly," he said slowly, while Leo sat down on the ground, leaning his head back to keep getting his hair petted, "but you suck at event planning."

Leo let out an offended huff, but didn't say anything and Jonah folded in half to kiss his forehead upside down, "I'm gonna take this from you and I'll scout for a location, okay? You worry about the damn flowers or what not."

"Anything more inconsequential you wanna hand me?" Leo pouted, causing Jon to grin and kiss the tip of his nose.

"Test me and I'll put you on water duty," he teased, before falling back against the couch, "so March?"

"Yeah, March," Leo smiled, then let out a little pleased sigh as JD sniffled his hand and came to sit on his lap.

[gblogg]

Reblogging out of order!

Barf Bingo, Part IV

A/N: And it's still not over! This is the part I hadn't planned to write, but apparently everyone else had other plans and had more puking to do. It's also completely unedited, more than usual. There will be a Part V.

U is for Unsettled, F is for Food Poisoning, S is for (a tiny bit of ) Seasickness, M is for (the start of a) Migraine.

Jeremiah stared at the two bottles in his hand, willing himself to open at least one and start drinking.  Even though he knew he needed to empty his stomach so he could doctor Noa and Drew’s food poisoning without gagging in their faces, the thought of adding anything to his belly - even temporarily - was daunting.  

But he hadn’t been joking when he’d told Drew that his body was behaving like a little bitch - hovering just below puking level and making him endure nearly unbearable and unending nausea and heartburn.  Forcing himself to eat or drink when already nauseated was fine when he and Drew were indulging in their kink, but right now, with his boyfriend in certain agony of his own, Jeremiah was feeling as far from aroused as imaginable.

For the third time, he hauled himself up over the half-bath’s toilet to burp and spit, hoping against hope that this time, the sight of the water would push his nausea to a 10 and make him throw up without having to drink anything.  

But even though his belches were deep and wet and tasted like fish and mayonnaise, the best he could do was gag emptily.  Again.  Frustrated, he sat back on his heels and glared at the water and Sprite, trying to decide which one would make him puke more quickly.

A soft burp behind him made him whirl around in time to see Drew sway dizzily in the doorway and then sink awkwardly to the ground.  He leaned back against the wall and gazed blearily at Jeremiah.

“I vomited,” he rasped, not sounding even a little bit relieved by that fact.  “Figure I’ve got a few minutes before the next round.”  

Jeremiah gave him an incredulous look.  “And you came to sit with me?”  Without waiting for an answer he reached out and pinched the back of Drew’s hand, tutting when the skin stayed peaked instead of bouncing back.  “You’re already dehydrated,” he fussed.  “How did you even walk here?” 

Drew shrugged. “Badly,” he admitted, swallowing hard.  “May have been a poor . . . urrp . . . decision.” Jeremiah watched his boyfriend’s throat bob for another second before shifting himself to the side of the toilet so Drew had a clear path. 

“You’re grey, love,” he sighed, and then when Drew didn’t move, tugged him gently up over the bowl and held him in place.  “Go ahead and get it up.  The sooner you’re empty the sooner I can put you to bed.”  He rubbed his boyfriend’s back, trying to get him to burp and then hopefully vomit.  “I assume you haven’t taken any meds.”

Drew shook his head and fell back onto his ass, landing in Jeremiah’s lap.  “Was going to take Imodium and then I got nauseous,” he said heavily.  “I’ll try after I puke.”  

“And when will that be?”  Jeremiah brushed the man’s coppery waves off his forehead where they’d stuck to his skin and then leaned forward to plant a kiss on his clammy cheek.  “You’re a mess, Thornton.”

Drew chuckled softly.  “You should talk, Gable.”  He reached down and picked up the Sprite.  “Don’t you need to go check on Noa?  Drink this so you can puke yourself.” 

“Yes, Nurse,” Jeremiah grumbled, but his boyfriend’s presence gave him the push he needed.  Without giving himself any more time to think, he cracked open the bottle and began chugging, trying to force down the entire thing before his stomach rebelled.  Drew rested his hand on his back and when Jeremiah finally dropped the empty bottle and lurched forward he began patting between his shoulder blades. 

Soda always made Jeremiah burpy, even when he wasn’t nauseous, and it took almost no effort to start belching, thick and deep and brassy. His stomach flipped nauseatingly and he froze over the bowl, waiting for the heave that would bring everything up.  Spicy saliva dripped into the water, sharp from the Sprite, and Jeremiah’s next burp turned into a gag. 

“Pat . . . harder,” he choked out.  The final retch was sitting just at the bottom of his throat; it needed just a bit more pressure to force it up.

But Drew’s hand fell off his back and behind him, Jeremiah heard a gulping, frothy burp, and then the sound of liquid splattering on the tile floor.  As much as he wanted to offer comfort, his own jaw tingled with fresh nausea and he knew that if he turned away from the toilet he’d be adding to the mess on the ground. Blindly, he reached back and managed to make contact with some part of Drew’s body, squeezing awkwardly while listening as he heaved a second time.  It didn’t sound like he brought much more up, but from the panting and spitting Jeremiah could tell that his nausea hadn’t eased.  

And his own was spiking.  A second later he had to pull his hand away to brace his arms around the toilet seat. His stomach contracted and he retched, and then again, heaving up all of the Sprite in one huge gush.  It was the push his body needed to finally start purging his dinner.  For a few long minutes the only sounds he could hear came from his own body - sick gurgles turning into deep burps and then becoming retching heaves of barely digested food and beer.  In between he panted and spit, gripping the toilet so tightly his knuckles went white and the ringing in his ears drowned out everything else.  

By the time he was done, his head was spinning and he was coated in sticky sweat.  It dripped down his back under his pajama shirt and made everything feel clammy and gross.  He rested his cheek on the toilet seat and tried to catch his breath.  “Fuck,” he panted.  He reached back again, but found only air.  “Drew?”

“I’m here.”  Drew’s voice was lower down than Jeremiah expected.  He turned gingerly to find his boyfriend curled up on the floor.  “You okay?”

Jeremiah huffed a laugh.  “I should ask you that.”  He picked up the bottle of water and rinsed his mouth, spitting back into the toilet, and then took a few careful sips.  His stomach rolled but didn’t immediately reject the liquid and he decided to take that as a win.  “Can you keep down some water?”  Drew’s eyes were sunken and lips cracked and his head lolled on the ground as if it was too heavy to lift.  He grimaced.  

“Not . . . not yet.  Still queasy.”  He twisted to look Jeremiah in the eye.  “I’m going to be fine.  Go take care of Noa.”  

He wanted to object, but he knew Drew was right.  He nodded. “Rory’s probably losing his shit by now.”  Drew gave a small chuckle.

“Oh, he lost it a while ago, I think.”  He lifted his hands.  “Help me to the sofa?”

Once Drew was settled with a towel across his lap and a bottle of water he promised to try to drink, Jeremiah crossed the room to the other cabin, entering without knocking and then leaving the door open so he could keep half an eye on his boyfriend, at least.  

The bathroom door was open too, and by the looks of things, Noa had just finished on the toilet again.  She was standing upright, but barely, arms draped over Rory as he finished tugging up her pajama bottoms, speaking softly to her as he  carefully turned her to the sink to wash her hands.  A second later her knees buckled and she crumpled to the floor.

“Shit!”  Rory dropped down beside her and pulled her head onto his lap.  “Noa?”  His voice shook.

“I’ve got her.”  Jeremiah pushed his way into the small bathroom and knelt down next to his friends.  Rory let out a relieved sob and grabbed Jeremiah’s hand.

“She’s so weak; what’s wrong?”  

“Diarrhea is very dehydrating in a short period of time, but I’m not concerned.” Direct information was best with Rory.  Jeremiah felt Noa’s pulse and squeezed the back of her hand and then rested his palm across her cheek until she opened her eyes.  “Hey sweetheart.”  

Noa licked her lips.  “Hi,” she whispered.  Her mouth contorted in a grimace and Jeremiah calmly grabbed a towel from the sink under the shelf.  He put it under her mouth just in time for her to burp and then heave up a little bit of liquid.  Rory made a distressed sound.  

“Is that bad that she’s puking?  She wasn’t before.”  He put his own hand on the other side of his girlfriend’s face and tried to get her to look at him.

Fortunately Jeremiah had a lot of experience managing Rory when he became panicky about Noa.  “Vomiting’s to be expected with food poisoning,” he said, still calm. “Drew’s thrown up a bunch of times already.”  He couldn’t help but glance in the direction of the living room even though he could only see the back of the sofa.  “Once the nausea eases we can work on introducing fluids.”  He handed the man a washcloth.  “Can you wet this for me?”  

Rory jumped to comply and Jeremiah watched closely as he swayed lightly on his feet.  “And how’s your stomach?  Any more vomiting?”

Rory made an impatient sound.  “No. I’m still kind of nauseous but pretty sure I’m empty.” He handed over the washcloth and then pulled Noa back onto his lap.  “Just gagging a little bit. It doesn’t matter.”

“He puked . . . puked next to the bed,” Noa mumbled, and Jeremiah grinned when Rory huffed again.  

“Barely anything!” he protested.  “You’ve been a lot more sick.”

“I’d tell you it’s not a competition but with you two it seems to be,” said Jeremiah mildly.  Noa looked about as bad as Drew did, which was to say bad, but not dangerously so.  “Do you think I can . . . put both of you to bed?”  If he had to admit it, his own stomach wasn’t feeling completely settled yet and he wasn’t sure if he needed to throw up again. He burped and tried not to grimace.  Rory gave him a sharp look.  

“You okay?”  

Jeremiah waved him off.  “Fine.  Just feeling a few aftershocks, but a lot better than earlier.”  That was true, at least.  “So, bed?”

From her place on  the floor, Noa shuffled.  “Rory?” she asked, voice tiny and thin.  “I’m g’onn . . . puke.”  A second later her body jerked and without even lifting her head she threw up onto the towel that was still bunched under chin.  Rory didn’t even flinch.  He pulled a few strands of hair back from her face and leaned over, cooing softly. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart.  Get it all up and then Jer and I’ll help you to bed, okay?”  He grabbed the washcloth from Jeremiah’s hand and began wiping her face.  “Better?”  

Noa choked up a little more liquid and then took a deep breath.  “Yeah.  I think so.”  Her eyes fluttered shut. “Can I lie down now?”  

“Definitely.”  Jeremiah climbed slowly to his feet and then grabbed onto the sink while his head swam dizzily.  Rory’d probably forgive him eventually if he dropped his girlfriend but he didn’t want to find out.  He spit into the sink and took a deep breath.  ���Let’s go.”  

Moving Noa with Rory’s help was a lot easier than it had been to help Drew onto the sofa alone, still, Jeremiah was panting with the effort by the time she was settled against the pillow with yet another towel on her lap.  There was also one on the floor, likely where Rory had thrown up, and Jeremiah couldn’t help but wonder if this was some sort of a record.  He leaned tiredly against the wall until Rory was also on the bed and then carefully handed them each a bottle of water.  

“Slowly . . . urrp . . . sips,” he cautioned, burping under his breath.  “I think we’re almost out of clean towels.”  

Rory peered at him.  “Go lie down, Jer.  You look terrible.”  

Jeremiah grimaced and rubbed at his stomach until it worked up another belch. “Gee, love you too, Ror.”  He checked Noa’s pulse again and nodded. “I’ll be on the sofa if you . . . .hrrrk . . . need me.”  Hopefully it sounded like he just wanted to be near his patients but truly he wasn’t sure he had the energy right now to make it all the way to his cabin.  And anyway, he wanted to snuggle with his boyfriend, even if both of them were trying not to puke at the time.  

“Thanks,” Rory mumbled, snuggling into Noa’s side, and Jeremiah took that as the sign he could leave.  

A deep burp greeted him as he walked into the living room and Jeremiah sighed.  “Still feeling rough, then?” he asked, and then stopped at the sight in front of him.  Drew looked like he’d tried to get off the sofa but failed; he was slumped over the back, watching Gabe, who was holding up Logan as she burped again and then spit onto the floor.   But her seasickness wasn’t his concern.  Gabe’s face was white and pinched with pain and Jeremiah just managed to make it to him to pull Logan into his arms before Gabe bent over and grabbed his head in both hands.  His desperate eyes swept the room.  

“M-m-migraine,” he ground out before retching harshly and vomiting all over the floor. 

[gblogg]

Hi lovelies! Since I said "gblogg back in business," I will stay to my word and get back to posting. I was a bit caught up with life and stuff (as usual), BUT I am almost done with the appendix fic, and can I say this fic is by far the longest and most difficult one yet!! I truly apologise for the long wait, but I'm getting there 🫣

I also MUST get back to reblogging and commenting. It's seriously out of hand now! I see that @lisupandowntown has gotten back to posting, and I have so many amazing fics to comment on, but there's a LOT! (Not complaining whatsoever) Also, @bellysoupset has a lot of fics that I must finish reading. I will get to it, guys! Don't you worry.

Went a little overboard here, but just know I'll be back sometime this week.

- G

[gblogg]

Queasy hiccups.

That is all

[gblogg]

Phoenix felt it the moment he woke up—a strange unease in his gut that wasn’t quite the usual nerves. He groaned, rolling over in bed, clutching the sheets as his mind cycled through the day’s upcoming events. He had a proposal meeting today. A big one. As a graphic designer, these meetings were always a bit nerve-wracking, but Phoenix had prepped for this. He had everything lined up, his ideas fresh and bold. So why did he feel like absolute shit?

“Just nerves,” he muttered to himself, rubbing his face before dragging himself out of bed. “It’s all in your head, Phoenix.”

His stomach gurgled, a slight pressure building in his chest as he shuffled to the bathroom. He burped, a quiet, bubbling sound that caused him to wince. "Ugh, come on," he groaned, rubbing his chest, hoping it would settle. He brushed it off as another sign of stress—stress always did weird things to his stomach. He wasn’t about to let this ruin his day.

He'd dressed and downed his coffee with half-hearted enthusiasm when his phone buzzed on the counter. Nico’s name lit up the screen, bringing a small smile to his face.

"Morning, babe," Phoenix said, a little relief washing over him at the sound of his boyfriend's voice.

"Hey, my love. How’re you feeling about the meeting? Gonna knock ‘em dead, right?"

Phoenix let out a sigh, leaning against the counter. "Yeah, I guess. Just, y'know, nervous as hell."

"You've got this, baby. You're a damn genius, remember?"

Phoenix smiled despite himself. "Thanks, babe. I needed that."

Nico's laugh was soft and warm. "Go kick some ass, darling. Call me after, alright?"

“Yeah, I will. Love you.”

"Love you more."

Phoenix hung up, already feeling a little better. But no sooner had he grabbed his bag to leave, his phone rang again. His brother’s name flashed on the screen this time, and Phoenix rolled his eyes before answering.

"Daniel, if you’re calling to wish me luck, I’m hanging up."

Daniel chuckled. "Wouldn’t dream of it. Just wanted to remind you not to fuck it up."

“Yeah, thanks. Great pep talk.”

"Seriously, though, bro. You’ll crush it. Later."

Phoenix sighed again. “Yeah, later.”

***

By the time Phoenix arrived at the office, the discomfort in his gut had morphed into something more solid, more nauseating. His palms were sweating as he tried to shake it off. He’d been nervous before, sure, but never like this. Still, he had to push through.

He greeted his colleagues, exchanged some small talk, and took his place at the conference table, but the queasiness in his stomach was persistent, gnawing at him. By the time he sat down, it was all he could do to keep his head from swimming. He burped quietly, this one bringing a taste of bile with it. "Ugh... what the fuck?" he whispered, gripping the edge of the table as his stomach churned. It wasn’t just nerves anymore, and deep down, he knew it.

The nausea built and built until, without warning, it slammed into him like a wave.

"Oh shit," Phoenix muttered under his breath, standing abruptly and making a beeline for the bathroom.

His stomach turned violently, and the moment he made it into the stall, he retched. Hard. Vomit spilled out, a disgusting, acrid mess that burned his throat and left him gasping. He clung to the toilet bowl, shaking, bile still rising.

“Fuck... I’m actually sick," he whispered to himself, a sinking realisation settling in.

It took a while before the wave of sickness subsided, but it didn’t disappear completely. His stomach was still uneasy, still threatening. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, rinsed his face, and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked pale, drawn.

But he couldn’t back out now.

Phoenix somehow made it through the meeting, plastering on a fake smile, nodding, and giving the presentation he’d worked so hard on. Every sentence felt like it was ripped out of him, and he fought down the urge to vomit the entire time. It was a fucking miracle he didn’t throw up on the table.

By the time he was done, his coworkers were congratulating him, telling him how impressive his pitch had been. He smiled weakly and muttered his thanks, but all he could think about was getting home.

The nausea grew worse on the drive, the motion of the car only making things harder. By the time Phoenix reached his apartment, he was pale, sweating, and barely holding it together. He dropped his bag just inside the door and rushed to the bathroom.

He barely made it. His knees hit the tile, but the vomit came before he could position himself over the toilet. It splattered onto the floor, the toilet rim, everywhere but where it was supposed to go.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Phoenix cried, choking as another wave hit. His stomach convulsed, emptying everything it had.

It was a mess. A disgusting, rancid mess. He hated it. He hated how helpless he felt. Tears welled up in his eyes as the retching continued. He hated this feeling more than anything—the feeling of losing control, of being vulnerable, of being so fucking sick.

Phoenix slumped against the wall, panting, still dry-heaving, tears streaming down his face. He could hear the front door open, followed by Nico’s footsteps.

“Phoenix? Babe?” Nico’s voice called out, growing closer until he appeared in the doorway.

“Oh fuck..." Nico’s eyes widened at the sight of the mess, but he quickly pushed his shock aside, crouching down next to Phoenix. "Hey, hey, my love. It's okay. Breathe, alright?"

Phoenix’s chest heaved as he looked up at Nico, ashamed and exhausted. "I... I missed the fucking toilet. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. It’s such a mess—"

"Shhh, don’t apologise," Nico said softly, wiping Phoenix’s tears away. "It’s okay, darling. Don't worry about that. Let’s get you cleaned up."

Phoenix sniffled, feeling small and vulnerable, but Nico’s presence was grounding. "I hate throwing up," he whispered, voice shaking.

"I know, babe. I know," Nico murmured, pressing a kiss to Phoenix’s forehead. "You did great. Let’s get you in the shower, alright? Don’t worry about the rest. I'll take care of it."

Nico helped Phoenix to his feet, supporting him as they stumbled to the shower. The warm water hit Phoenix’s skin, washing away the grime, the sweat, the sickness. He felt like a fucking mess, but with Nico there, rubbing his back, whispering reassurances, it was easier to let go.

“Just relax, okay? I’ve got you.” Phoenix leaned into Nico’s touch, closing his eyes.

As they dried off and Nico wrapped Phoenix in a towel, the nausea seemed to settle, leaving behind a deep exhaustion.

“I think I aced the meeting by the way,” Phoenix said, voice hoarse but carrying a hint of pride.

Nico blinked at him, then chuckled, shaking his head. "How the fuck can you still crack jokes after all that?"

Phoenix grinned weakly. “Talented, I guess.”

Nico rolled his eyes, but there was warmth in his gaze. "You’re fucking unbelievable, babe."

They curled up together on the couch afterward, Nico’s arms wrapped protectively around Phoenix. The day had been hell, but at this moment, Phoenix didn’t want to move forever.

"You’re gonna be alright, my love," Nico whispered, pressing a kiss to Phoenix’s hair.

"Yeah," Phoenix murmured, resting his head against Nico’s chest. "I think I am."

[gblogg]

Mini fic to warm up my hands before I write the appendix fic