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builder051 · 7 years ago

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Jax Beach story arc part 2

It’s been for-fucking-ever since I’ve written Mel and Todd. SORRY!! For some of you , these guys are basically unknown, so if you really want to do some homework, check out their introductory stories on the master fic list here (you’ll want to look at the first three stories in their section). I also recently reblogged some of their stories, so it shouldn’t be too hard to scroll back to them if you’re on mobile.

Thank you so much to @wiseinnerwhispers for submitting this prompt as part of promptswap. It’s a fantastic original idea, and it fits perfectly with what I have planned for this arc.

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“Babe,” Todd sighs in exasperation, “If we’re picking up food for a party, you could at least park closer to the door.” He knows it’s a shitty thing to say to his wife, but his patience is wearing thin.

“A few extra steps aren’t gonna kill you,” Mel says. But she turns the Volvo anyway and trolls for a different parking spot.

“Do you even want to have a party?” Todd asks, looking out the window at the people skittering in and out of the grocery store. His head aches, and the thought of shopping isn’t appealing anymore. It hadn’t been his first choice of ways to spend his Friday evening to begin with, but Mel had insisted, and he’d come around. Or at least tried to, which he knows is more than he’s been doing lately.

“Well, I know that if we don’t have a party, we’ll end up going to a party,” Mel says. She’s speaking in code, but her meaning is clear enough. “And I’d rather have party.”

“So this is gonna be a beer-free party?” Todd asks.

“Yeah.” Mel’s voice holds the slightest note of uncertainty.

“Babe…” Todd shakes his head.

“I mean, we can have fun without getting sloshed.” Mel sounds defiant now.

“I don’t really want to do this,” Todd says. He leans back in his seat and folds his arms across his chest.

Mel puts the car in park. She looks at him, her brows knitting together. “I already invited people.” She bites her lip. “I’m sorry.”

Todd slackens as he lets out his breath. “And you’re not gonna un-invite them, so you want me to plan to cook something and act like I’m excited about hosting the fucking thing.” He knows Mel doesn’t mean to irritate him, but he can’t pretend he’s happy with the situation. Todd wonders if they’ll survive the weekend without getting into another argument. He thinks about the half-pint of whiskey stashed in his desk drawer at work, and he wishes he’d brought it home. He could use some liquid strength right about now.

“I don’t want to make you mad,” Mel says, worrying at her lip. “I just…think this will be good.”

“Babe, if you want to tell me something, just go ahead and say it.” Todd barely cares that he’s being just as vague as Mel. His tolerance is going fast, and way his headache is beginning to dissolve into pangs of queasiness isn’t helping.

“I don’t…ugh. Todd,” Mel whines. “I’m sorry. Can we just do this? We can make it fun. I know we can.”

“You can’t just gloss it over and expect me to go along with it,” Todd comes back. The throb between his eyes keeps him from raising his voice, but his irritation is apparent nonetheless.

Mel gives him a sad smile. “I’m really sorry,” she says again. She looks past Todd, toward the illuminated sign for Publix. “D’you think we can do this?”

“Yeah,” Todd says in a resigned sigh. “Let’s fucking do this.”

The store is crowded with after-work shoppers who all seem to be, like them, picking up supplies for the weekend. Todd stays behind the barrier of the cart, pushing it languidly while Mel puts things in it.

“Do you want to make pizza?” Mel asks, examining the fresh shredded mozzarella in the deli.

She’s playing him, and Todd knows it. Trying to include his favorite hobby and his favorite food into her master plan. Ordinarily, he’d say yes without question. But the longer he stands there the sicker he feels. He wants to go home already. “Who all did you invite?” Todd asks, shifting his weight from one foot to the other to see if it’ll settle his stomach.

“Amelia,” Mel says. “A couple other people from my office.” She pushes her glasses up and looks at Todd. “And Mark. I sent him the invite on Facebook. I told him he could bring whatever girl he’s talking to this weekend.” She giggles at her own joke.

Todd can’t help but smile. His best friend flirts hard every time they go out, but he doesn’t think he’s ever seen him with the same girl twice. “You should set him up with Amelia,” Todd suggests. “See if they can out-sass each other.”

“Oh, she’d whip his ass.” Mel laughs harder than she should. She’s probably relieved to see a happy expression on Todd’s face. “Do you want to cook?” she asks him again. “Or we could go basic. Crackers and cheese kind of thing.”

Todd falls back into his frown as his stomach flips. He doesn’t want to think about food anymore. He thinks about telling Mel he doesn’t feel well, but she’ll only start fussing. She’ll probably drag him down the pharmacy and ask him to rattle off his symptoms while she reads the back of bottles and boxes. Best to keep quiet until they finish up. Todd hopes it’s soon, because tendrils of hot nausea are beginning to prickle up into his chest.

“Do you think we should do shrimp cocktail?” Mel meanders toward the seafood counter.

“Babe, you don’t like fish.” Todd looks at her blankly.

“But everybody else does. You do,” Mel says.

Not today he doesn’t. Todd can already smell it from here. Sourness rises in the back of his throat, and he swallows hard.

“They have some pre-made trays, with the cocktail sauce and everything,” Mel says, pointing into glass-front case. “Come look.”

Todd gets two steps away from the cart when he realizes his body isn’t having it. A sick burp comes up, and he brings his fist up to his mouth. “Hold on,” he groans to Mel, and he takes off at a fast walk. The bathrooms are just around the corner, and Todd prays he can make it before he pukes.

“What?” Mel’s jogging behind him, wondering what’s up. “Do you feel sick or something?”

Todd doesn’t answer. He bursts through the door to the men’s room, and gags immediately. There’s no time to try for the stall, so he braces against the counter and retches into the sink.

“Todd?” Mel’s curly head pops up beside his shoulder.

“Fuck. I’m ok,” Todd breathes. “Wait outside, babe.”

“There’s nobody in here,” Mel rebuts. She rubs Todd’s back as he throws up again. He’s only bringing up acid now. He’s glad they haven’t had dinner yet.

“Whew,” Todd sighs. He turns on the faucet to wash the mess down the drain, then splashes his face.

Mel hands him a paper towel. “Why didn’t you say something?” she demands. Her expression remains soft, though.

Todd coughs to clear his throat. “It wasn’t so bad until we got near the fish.” He pats his cheeks and forehead dry, then looks at his expression in the mirror. The strands of hair that have escaped around his face are lank and damp. “And you were already…in the zone.”

“Was I?” Mel crinkles her nose. “Sorry. You still should’ve said something. We could’ve gone home.”

“Can we go home?” Todd asks. “Mark was out sick a few days ago. I bet it’s a bug going around.”

“Let’s grab some ginger ale and pepto while we’re here,” Mel says. “Then we’ll go home.” She gives Todd a gentle hug around the waist. “I think we’re in for a quiet weekend after all.”

“Hm.” At least if he’s sick, he won’t need Mel’s help to stay dry.

#mel and todd #mel rhinehart #todd rhinehart #jax beach crowd #oc fic #my ocs #sickfic #emeto #emetophilia

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