justprompts | May
"He who tells a lie is not sensible of how great a task he undertakes; for he must be forced to invent twenty more to maintain that one." -Alexander Pope
Co-written with geniuscowboy
[Follows THIS]
The only point Eva had even considered Chris might be faking was when she just outright asked him online. Up to then, it hadn't crossed her mind because to do so would be completely against his grain. He could be devious, and she was more than aware he had stretched certain truths to get out of drinks with the team a couple of times when he had something more pressingwith his social life to attend to. Chris was a free spirit, away from work, he did what he wanted at any one time. Work was a little more structured, but lately even he had been struggling with the new structure that was Dr. Matt Proctor. It was a different structure to what Chris was used to and he still hadn't come to be content with it much. He was going through the motions, Eva could see that. He and Matt still had some way to go before they could be classified as 'getting each other'.
But there was a different fish to fry today, and Eva had been worried as soon as Proctor revealed that Chris had, in fact, turned around and called in sick with the flu like Eva had joked that he would. To be honest, she had thought he had gotten the flu shot and he was just denying it to try and make out he was invincible. Turns out she was wrong, and even though she would never admit it to him, she knew that she didn't know Chris half as well as she thought she did. He always surprised her, was always coming out with unexpected things. She showed up at his apartment door in a sterile plastic infection control gown and a pair of surgical goggles in an attempt to give him a small laugh. He had snickered at her all day about being puked on, and now she was just having a joke with him. But as soon as he opened the door, she knew he wasn't faking. Really wasn't faking. He looked pale, washed out and exhausted. He was in a daggy old surf t-shirt and pyjama pants, and he clearly had bed hair, even if the whole ensemble was cute. Her own attire got a bit of a smirk and a weak laugh out of him, but no cheeky one-liners, no more piss-pulling. He must have been feeling really horrible, and of course, she just became more concerned about him.
Now she was standing outside his bathroom door, leaning back against the wall as she listened to him vomiting forcefully. She had only been there all of five minutes before he started to get sick, and she had the conscience to feel guilty about wondering if he was faking. Of course he wouldn't call off a work shift in favour of sex. He'd maybe call off any other life obligation for it, but not work. The bathroom door was ajar, Chris only having time to give it a small nudge closed when he bolted in there. Eva turned around, leaning over a little to push the door open a few more inches so she could see him knelt over the toilet. "Can I get you anything? Water? A wet cloth?" she offered sympathetically. It was a virulent flu, it couldn't not be with how many staff and patients it had sent down with it.
"A new gut? A fork to poke myself in the eye to dull the pain?" Chris groaned, draping his arm across the rim of the toilet and resting his head on it. What a fucking morning. He had been okay at Serena's. It was more than a little weird without her there once she reluctantly went to work. It had been a rough night, expectedly. He continuously tossed and turned, pulled the covers on, only to toss them off again soon after. He was also up more than a handful of times to throw up or us the bathroom. When he wasn't doing all that, he was out in a sick, restless sleep. By the time morning came, he didn't feel at all rested, only heavy guilt for disrupting Serena's night. She had insisted he stay at her place, though, and he had been feeling too crap to protest much. He went back to bed and fell into a heavy sleep, waking up just before lunch and decided to watch some TV and check his Facebook on Serena's laptop.
It was that point when the conversation with Eva occurred, and before he could realise what was happening - or stop her - she was on her way around on her lunch break. On her way around to his apartment, because for obvious reasons, she would have no clue that the mysterious friend was Serena and that Chris was staying at her place. It was a miracle he even had the capacity to think straight, but panic an adrenaline could do some freaky things to a system. He definitely panicked, and the next thing he knew he was in the back of a cab with his t-shirt on inside out (something that he never realised until he was changing out of it) and nursing Serena's bucket in case his gut didn't make the journey. It didn't, and he was yurking into the bucket in the prime view of the driver in the rearview mirror. Luckily, the driver was a woman with kids, so she didn't get shitty when he started to hurl. He apologised profusely to her, tucking his shirt up over his nose so he would breath on her, and ended up paying her $50 for an eight minute taxi journey because he felt bad. He was also friggin mortified. He wasn't going to buy that this wasn't karma. It had to damn well be.
Now he was exhausted, even more than he had been. The journey had wrecked him, and to make matters worse, he had been trying to text Serena to let her know what happened, but the messages kept bouncing back to him from some sort of network failure. He hoped she was busy and not feeling chivalrous like Eva so she didn't go back to her place on her lunch break to check on him. But this was Serena. Of course he was going to. In fact, she was probably counting the minutes until she could. She cared, and she was concerned for him. He kept trying the messages, and then ended up sending her an email from his phone. Hopefully she would get it. There could be a lot of explaining to do if she showed up on his doorstep after finding him absent of her apartment and then discovering Eva here. Also needing to explain to Eva why she was suddenly coming to Chris' rescue. Chris' head pounded just at the thought of the awkwardness. Goddamn ass of a flu.
Eva smirked in amusement. Under the flu, he was still Chris, always would be. "I have to go back to work in a little while. Can I be confident in leaving you without dying, or do I need to call in back-up to take care of you? Maybe Tuck's grandma will be obliging," she joked. The little old lady was a sweetheart, but never failed to corner Chris and reel off all her health problems and ask his advice on them. Anything from hemorrhoids to breast elasticity. When she just heard Chris heave and vomit again with another moan, she couldn't help but just give a small laugh. "You're never going to mock me about getting puked on again, are you?"
Chris flipped the lid down on the toilet and leaned heavily on the leaver to flush it. He sat back on his haunches and rubbed a hand over his face tiredly, his posture slumped as he tried to work up the energy to move off the bathroom floor to wash his face and brush his teeth. "You evil woman. Why am I friends with you again?" he snorted. He indulged in a few moments of flopping foward to rest his hot cheek against the closed toilet lid, letting his eyes close. "You really did just come to pull the piss out of me, didn't you? See, unlike my piss-pulling, yours is just downright nasty. You're going to hell and you're probably going to take my huevos with you."
Eva frowned a little as she pushed the bathroom door open so she could get a more clearer view of him in his odd position that looked like he really was worshipping the porcelain goddess. "Do you need a hand getting up, or is this a new yoga position I haven't heard about? I hear you're the expert," she joked, going over to him and holding her hand out to help him.
"You've been talking to Serena," Chris deduced as he took her hand to pull himself up off the bathroom floor with a groan. "I'm going to start feeding you to fake information to gossip about just to amuse myself." He leaned over the sink and rested his elbows on the edge of it to conserve some energy in the basic tasks. The cold water felt glorious against his feverish skin and he took a few sips of it directly from the tap. He did appreciate Eva's visit, and that she was concerned about him, but he was just too sick to maintain any of their usual banter. He wanted to crawl into bed and feel sorry for himself, his stomach just wasn't letting him stay there for any length of time.
Eva rubbed his back softly, feeling that the back of his t-shirt was damp. "Hey, why don't I stick around long enough for you to take a quick shower, have a wash? I'll be here if you decide to pass out on me. You're probably feeling all icky and gross. Then I'll head back to work and get out of your hair. Just... promise me you're okay for anything. Do you want to try some tea, something to eat?" she offered in concern, watching him lethargically brush his teeth like even that was zapping the little energy he had. But still, with the flu, all your muscles did ache and lifting the toothbrush probably felt like he was trying to lift a small car.
Chris rinsed his mouth and stuck his toothbrush back into the ceramic cup as he nodded. "Yeah, that'd be great. Cheers, Eva." He gave her a tired smile via the mirror. "I promise not to puke on you. And if I do pass out in the shower, no peeking at my Dr. C Junior," he joked with a smirk.
Eva snorted with a laugh and moved to turn the shower on for him, making sure it wasn't going to be too hot for him and exacerbate the fever. "And if I do, I promise your secrets will be safe with me, Fabio."
Word Count | 1,831
Co-written with geniuscowboy
[Follows THIS]
The only point Eva had even considered Chris might be faking was when she just outright asked him online. Up to then, it hadn't crossed her mind because to do so would be completely against his grain. He could be devious, and she was more than aware he had stretched certain truths to get out of drinks with the team a couple of times when he had something more pressingwith his social life to attend to. Chris was a free spirit, away from work, he did what he wanted at any one time. Work was a little more structured, but lately even he had been struggling with the new structure that was Dr. Matt Proctor. It was a different structure to what Chris was used to and he still hadn't come to be content with it much. He was going through the motions, Eva could see that. He and Matt still had some way to go before they could be classified as 'getting each other'.
But there was a different fish to fry today, and Eva had been worried as soon as Proctor revealed that Chris had, in fact, turned around and called in sick with the flu like Eva had joked that he would. To be honest, she had thought he had gotten the flu shot and he was just denying it to try and make out he was invincible. Turns out she was wrong, and even though she would never admit it to him, she knew that she didn't know Chris half as well as she thought she did. He always surprised her, was always coming out with unexpected things. She showed up at his apartment door in a sterile plastic infection control gown and a pair of surgical goggles in an attempt to give him a small laugh. He had snickered at her all day about being puked on, and now she was just having a joke with him. But as soon as he opened the door, she knew he wasn't faking. Really wasn't faking. He looked pale, washed out and exhausted. He was in a daggy old surf t-shirt and pyjama pants, and he clearly had bed hair, even if the whole ensemble was cute. Her own attire got a bit of a smirk and a weak laugh out of him, but no cheeky one-liners, no more piss-pulling. He must have been feeling really horrible, and of course, she just became more concerned about him.
Now she was standing outside his bathroom door, leaning back against the wall as she listened to him vomiting forcefully. She had only been there all of five minutes before he started to get sick, and she had the conscience to feel guilty about wondering if he was faking. Of course he wouldn't call off a work shift in favour of sex. He'd maybe call off any other life obligation for it, but not work. The bathroom door was ajar, Chris only having time to give it a small nudge closed when he bolted in there. Eva turned around, leaning over a little to push the door open a few more inches so she could see him knelt over the toilet. "Can I get you anything? Water? A wet cloth?" she offered sympathetically. It was a virulent flu, it couldn't not be with how many staff and patients it had sent down with it.
"A new gut? A fork to poke myself in the eye to dull the pain?" Chris groaned, draping his arm across the rim of the toilet and resting his head on it. What a fucking morning. He had been okay at Serena's. It was more than a little weird without her there once she reluctantly went to work. It had been a rough night, expectedly. He continuously tossed and turned, pulled the covers on, only to toss them off again soon after. He was also up more than a handful of times to throw up or us the bathroom. When he wasn't doing all that, he was out in a sick, restless sleep. By the time morning came, he didn't feel at all rested, only heavy guilt for disrupting Serena's night. She had insisted he stay at her place, though, and he had been feeling too crap to protest much. He went back to bed and fell into a heavy sleep, waking up just before lunch and decided to watch some TV and check his Facebook on Serena's laptop.
It was that point when the conversation with Eva occurred, and before he could realise what was happening - or stop her - she was on her way around on her lunch break. On her way around to his apartment, because for obvious reasons, she would have no clue that the mysterious friend was Serena and that Chris was staying at her place. It was a miracle he even had the capacity to think straight, but panic an adrenaline could do some freaky things to a system. He definitely panicked, and the next thing he knew he was in the back of a cab with his t-shirt on inside out (something that he never realised until he was changing out of it) and nursing Serena's bucket in case his gut didn't make the journey. It didn't, and he was yurking into the bucket in the prime view of the driver in the rearview mirror. Luckily, the driver was a woman with kids, so she didn't get shitty when he started to hurl. He apologised profusely to her, tucking his shirt up over his nose so he would breath on her, and ended up paying her $50 for an eight minute taxi journey because he felt bad. He was also friggin mortified. He wasn't going to buy that this wasn't karma. It had to damn well be.
Now he was exhausted, even more than he had been. The journey had wrecked him, and to make matters worse, he had been trying to text Serena to let her know what happened, but the messages kept bouncing back to him from some sort of network failure. He hoped she was busy and not feeling chivalrous like Eva so she didn't go back to her place on her lunch break to check on him. But this was Serena. Of course he was going to. In fact, she was probably counting the minutes until she could. She cared, and she was concerned for him. He kept trying the messages, and then ended up sending her an email from his phone. Hopefully she would get it. There could be a lot of explaining to do if she showed up on his doorstep after finding him absent of her apartment and then discovering Eva here. Also needing to explain to Eva why she was suddenly coming to Chris' rescue. Chris' head pounded just at the thought of the awkwardness. Goddamn ass of a flu.
Eva smirked in amusement. Under the flu, he was still Chris, always would be. "I have to go back to work in a little while. Can I be confident in leaving you without dying, or do I need to call in back-up to take care of you? Maybe Tuck's grandma will be obliging," she joked. The little old lady was a sweetheart, but never failed to corner Chris and reel off all her health problems and ask his advice on them. Anything from hemorrhoids to breast elasticity. When she just heard Chris heave and vomit again with another moan, she couldn't help but just give a small laugh. "You're never going to mock me about getting puked on again, are you?"
Chris flipped the lid down on the toilet and leaned heavily on the leaver to flush it. He sat back on his haunches and rubbed a hand over his face tiredly, his posture slumped as he tried to work up the energy to move off the bathroom floor to wash his face and brush his teeth. "You evil woman. Why am I friends with you again?" he snorted. He indulged in a few moments of flopping foward to rest his hot cheek against the closed toilet lid, letting his eyes close. "You really did just come to pull the piss out of me, didn't you? See, unlike my piss-pulling, yours is just downright nasty. You're going to hell and you're probably going to take my huevos with you."
Eva frowned a little as she pushed the bathroom door open so she could get a more clearer view of him in his odd position that looked like he really was worshipping the porcelain goddess. "Do you need a hand getting up, or is this a new yoga position I haven't heard about? I hear you're the expert," she joked, going over to him and holding her hand out to help him.
"You've been talking to Serena," Chris deduced as he took her hand to pull himself up off the bathroom floor with a groan. "I'm going to start feeding you to fake information to gossip about just to amuse myself." He leaned over the sink and rested his elbows on the edge of it to conserve some energy in the basic tasks. The cold water felt glorious against his feverish skin and he took a few sips of it directly from the tap. He did appreciate Eva's visit, and that she was concerned about him, but he was just too sick to maintain any of their usual banter. He wanted to crawl into bed and feel sorry for himself, his stomach just wasn't letting him stay there for any length of time.
Eva rubbed his back softly, feeling that the back of his t-shirt was damp. "Hey, why don't I stick around long enough for you to take a quick shower, have a wash? I'll be here if you decide to pass out on me. You're probably feeling all icky and gross. Then I'll head back to work and get out of your hair. Just... promise me you're okay for anything. Do you want to try some tea, something to eat?" she offered in concern, watching him lethargically brush his teeth like even that was zapping the little energy he had. But still, with the flu, all your muscles did ache and lifting the toothbrush probably felt like he was trying to lift a small car.
Chris rinsed his mouth and stuck his toothbrush back into the ceramic cup as he nodded. "Yeah, that'd be great. Cheers, Eva." He gave her a tired smile via the mirror. "I promise not to puke on you. And if I do pass out in the shower, no peeking at my Dr. C Junior," he joked with a smirk.
Eva snorted with a laugh and moved to turn the shower on for him, making sure it wasn't going to be too hot for him and exacerbate the fever. "And if I do, I promise your secrets will be safe with me, Fabio."
Word Count | 1,831