Summary: A missing night after the Abbagor fiasco. Cal's a little traumatized and can't seem to get the images of Niko's near demise out of his head. He decides to do something about it.

Disclaimer: Character's belong to Thurman. I'm just screwing with 'em. Cal probably has a twin who's a sailor somewhere...

A/N: Just to be clear - yes, I do realize it was proven later on that Cal doesn't actually suffer long term effects. However, I was engineering brother fluff so just bear with the slight non-canony-ness ;)

Dead groping fingers. Hungry knotting tendrils. Devouring flesh crawling…intertwining. A lingering flash of red. The suffocating stench of decaying corpses and rotting sinew. He'd been right beside me. In a flash he was gone. Buried alive.

Convulsing muscles ripping the air from his lungs. Living death becoming one with his body. An eternal graveyard…

Well fuck this shit. He wasn't going anywhere without me.

I lunged for the mass of manipulative grey muscle, Boker first and the Eagle wasn't far behind. I ripped and tore at the writhing flesh imprisoning him. I blew five holes so goddamn wide you could've shoved a horse ass-backwards through them.

The bastard wasn't letting go. When that didn't work I used my hands. Desperate times and all that shit. Close but no cigar. He allowed me one last glimpse of those gray eyes before swallowing his soul - that beseeching glance begging for forgiveness. Forgiveness for leaving.

No, this wasn't right. Not how this was supposed to happen. This was all wrong. His hand fought free of the tangle of flesh and shot out towards me. I grasped blindly for it…screaming. Screaming his name until my vocal chords were shredded raw. Couldn't let him go.

The tips of our fingers barely touched, I almost had him when the thing decided playtime was over, sucked him back inside and in one powerful surge of suffocating flesh he was gone. Gone…stolen from me.

Like the only light bulb in the basement had shattered.

Nonononono…

I threw myself into the writhing mass, tearing and biting and digging for all I was worth…He was coming back. He had to. Except he wasn't….

The pulsating tendrils of flesh grew bulbous, bright red veins throbbing in rhythm with an invisible heartbeat. They spread along the surface of taut skin and congealed until the whole great, bloody mess inevitably exploded, like the casing tearing off of a sausage link. I was splattered by gobs of cherry red flesh, dripping down my arms and the putrid liquid stinging my eyes.

Out of the slithering glop emerged a slender figure. Ruby eyes seared bullet holes in my skull as it raised a single claw, pointing in my direction. I couldn't move. I couldn't even lift my hand to defend myself. I blinked and instantly it was right in front of my face. It's hot, rancid breath gagging me.

A razor sharp grin writhed across its face before its talons dug into my throat and it gleefully hissed, "Mine now."

I woke up choking. The air caught in my lungs as my mind struggled to catch up with my flailing body. My sweaty legs were tangled in the sheets and I fought to free myself. I jerked upwards and heaved lungfuls of air as I levered my body over the side of the bed.

I didn't know if it was sweat or tears making my eyes sting but I swiped a hand across my face nonetheless. It came away uncomfortably moist. I wiped the excess on my sweats and focused on calming my erratic breathing. If I could just get my heart to calm the fuck down…felt like it was planning on thumping right out of my chest. Like a scene from Looney Tunes.

I hadn't even realized I was gripping the knife I'd stowed under my pillow, but there it was clutched desperately in my hand, glinting reassuringly in the moonlight, the familiar weight anchoring my reeling subconscious.

Taking a few measured breaths I hoisted myself out of bed and only stumbled once as I made my way to the bathroom. Credit where it's due, right? The cool water helped to clear my fuzzy brain but did nothing for the shaking. My hands were trembling so badly it took me three tries to successfully shut off the sink. The nightmare was fading, but the overwhelming emotions lingered, like a reeking aftertaste. I had to do something. I was going insane.

Alcohol. I decided I needed alcohol and lots of it. I'd never been a really big drinker. Good ol' Mom had unwittingly seen to that. But tonight…yeah, tonight I was going to make an exception. In the grand scheme, it was probably an incredibly stupid and pretty chicken thing to do but at that moment I just wanted to stop thinking. I wanted to make it all go away. I needed a distraction.

I shrugged on my jacket and headed out of the apartment, checking to make sure Niko was still asleep. At that point, I wasn't even thinking about what he'd do if he woke up and found out I was AWOL but like I said, I was kind of past the point of caring. Selfish bastard was on a loop in my head the minute I stepped outside our apartment - because guilt is always a fun cherry to top off all your other crap.

As my nonexistent luck would have it, distraction was waiting for me in the form of a marginally inebriated, silk clad puck down at the bar where I occasionally pulled a shift or two during the week when I wasn't all tied up avoiding my family drama. And you thought you had it bad with your reunions.

Goodfellow practically cheered when I sat down a few stools away and ordered a whiskey shot with instructions to keep em' coming. He blatantly ignored the several seats between us hint, sauntered over, smooth as olive oil and perched his arm across my shoulders. I blatantly ignored him and threw back my second shot.

"Trouble in paradise," he crooned, a shit-eating grin plastered across his smug, angular face. "Drinking with the big boys tonight, eh Caliban?"

I decided I wasn't in the mood for witty repartee.

"Fuck off, Goodfellow." The burn ignited in my throat and settled pleasantly in my stomach. I shucked the glass down on the counter and rolled my shoulders in an attempt to shrug off his arm. In an annoyingly predictable response, Robin settled down on the stool next to mine and ordered another round of shots in addition to the bottle of whiskey he was currently chugging like a parched desert cactus.

Whatever. For all I cared, he could hump the damn stool as long as he was shelling out the green. Could probably use a benefactor in lieu of the obscene amount of booze I planned on guzzling down this fine fucking evening. He chuckled at my glare and I repressed the urge to shove him off the seat onto his ass and tossed back the free liquor.

"I know what you're thinking, Caliban," Robin taunted with a snaky whisper. "Want to know what you're thinking?" He poked my arm before taking a gulp of his drink.

"Touch me again and I'll jam my boot up your ass," I growled. He really didn't get the concept of the quiet game.

"Oh, listen to the pup," the puck snorted in feigned surprise. "Trying to talk dirty. That's alright, we'll work on it…but A for effort." Robin was practically purring with mirth and it took all of my willpower not to take my fist and punch out every single one of his pearly chiclets.

"But yes," He continued, undeterred. "Dark and disturbing thoughts about jamming unpleasant things into unpleasant places was my guess. Although, I suppose unpleasant would be a matter of personal preference if-"

"Don't start," I sneered.

"You know, there's really no need for hostility," He swirled the contents of his glass in one smooth motion. "I'm only trying to help."

"Yeah? Well do me a favor and don't." I drained my drink and poured myself another. It no longer tasted like I was gulping gasoline. Or the liquor had just singed off my taste buds.

Goodfellow was quiet for a moment before his eyes slid sideways at me. "Caliban, if this is about what happened with-"

"Goddammit, do you ever shut up?" I turned to face him, nostrils flaring.

Because of course it was…and we both knew it.

Robin watched me fume, his eyes never leaving mine. His steady gaze grew inexplicably gentle and I found myself breaking contact, suddenly embarrassed. I quickly swallowed the rest of the liquor in my glass and reached for the bottle in order to give my hands something to do.

Goodfellow was silent for several moments before reaching for the bottle himself.

"You know, Cal," His voice was so soft I barely made out what he said next. "You don't have to worry about it. You'll go together."

I glanced up at him, my eyebrows wrinkling in confusion. Robin didn't seem to notice, just continued in that unnervingly quiet voice.

"You will," He nodded his head and his mouth pinched around the edges. "I don't really see any way around that." He snorted into his drink and smiled bitterly. "One of you throws yourself on a grenade and the other just decides he'll hop on for the ride. Real masochistic heroes the both of you."

Suddenly, he looked like he was swallowing against an ache in his throat and I wondered just how drunk he really was. The next words out of his mouth were laced with a sadness that simultaneously surprised and disturbed me.

"You always go together," he whispered.

And I must have been a sheet away from three myself, because what the fuck was that supposed to mean?

"You're one bizarre son of a bitch, Goodfellow," I didn't feel angry anymore. In fact, I found myself starting to feel sorry for the bastard. And what the hell was that all about? I raised my glass and chinked it with his. "A real philosophical fucker."

"Bizarre? Nonsense," The wolfish grin made a stealthy reappearance. "I'm an exceptionally profound being with intricate tendencies you couldn't even begin to comprehend with that pea-sized pellet you have the audacity to label a brain." He raised his glass. "But I'll salute to that last bit!" He drained the tumbler in two long swallows.

I followed suit.

"Goodfellow, you probably think your morning constitution is exceptionally profound. I've officially resigned myself to calling bullshit on pretty much everything that comes out of your mouth. Get used to it."

"Caliban," He suddenly looked very solemn. "That was profoundly hurtful."

And he looked so dead serious that I snorted liquor out of my nose.

He slapped me on the back, "I know, that was a lot of big words to wrap your miscreant tongue around but you did very well, all things considered. I'm impressed."

I wiped a wrinkled sleeve across my face and helped myself to the second bottle. I felt warm and loose. My lips were kind of numb and my teeth felt soft…tingly? Weird. If I hadn't have been so relaxed that probably would've freaked me out. I just didn't really care anymore and that felt…good.

Yeah, I felt pretty goddamn good.

"Get over here, you pansy-ass sonovabitch! I'll tear your throat out and feed it to my dad!" I was hollering at the top of my lungs. Robin wrapped an arm securely around my chest, restraining me as I flailed and spat at the seething fur-ball licking the blood off the gaping wound along his forearm. I couldn't even remember why I was so pissed, just knew it felt damn good, like everything else right now.

I wanted to fight. I wanted to rip limbs and taste the blood so badly it hurt. I wasn't weak and I was ready to prove it. And funny…no takers.

Robin looped a few fingers in the back of my jeans and hauled me outside by the seat of my pants. Evil bastard.

"All right, Conan," he smirked, inexplicably amused. "I think you've made your point."

"Oh really?" My voice sounded alien and high-pitched. It felt like I was talking around a glob of peanut butter – everything seemed slow and difficult. And at the moment, I was looking at two Goodfellows. If that wasn't freaky as hell…

"'Cause I don't think I did!" I spun on my heels with every intention of storming back inside. An iron vice caught my arm and spun me right back around. The quick motion sent the ground on a wave ride and I tipped forward - or to the side…or maybe backwards? I'd never wanted to be this familiar with the expression, which way is up. Robin rescued my head from cracking open on the pavement and wrapped his arm around my waist before slinging my own over his shoulder.

"Okay, Junior. Playtimes over." He began tugging me along. "Time to get you home."

"Don't wanna," I moaned.

"Not up for discussion."

And I thought that was just hilarious. "You sound like my brother," I snorted.

"Who, speaking of which, is probably waiting for you. So come on, march."

"I am," I tried my best to glare. But Robin was smiling in that stupid way that not only pissed me off, but made me think my face wasn't doing what I told it. "God, quit tugging! What happened to make love not wedgies?"

"Always with the whining," Goodfellow sighed. "And I hope to Zeus that's just an expression you made up. My faith in the human race dwindles."

"Ooohh," I returned the favor from earlier and poked a finger in his chest. "But not quite, 'member?" I felt the blackness swell inside my chest even though I really hadn't meant anything by it.

Goodfellow gave my jeans another gentle tug and I sort of suspected it wasn't just to untangle my uncooperative legs.

"Anyone ever told you you're a real melodramatic bastard when you're drunk, Cal? Really overshadows your usual sunshiny demeanor."

"'M not drunk," I argued petulantly. "Jus'…"

I trailed off, partly because I had to stop to hiccup and partly because I wasn't exactly sure what I was and I was kind of okay with not knowing. Goodfellow waited patiently.

"Jus' happy," I decided and then busted out laughing because what the hell was I even talking about? Suddenly, everything was just really damn hilarious.

Goodfellow whistled so friggin' close to my head, my eardrums started whistling back. The next thing I knew, Robin was manhandling me into a cab.

It was all pretty hazy, but I think Goodfellow swatted me more than once for drooling on his silk shirt. We eventually pulled to a stop and Robin handed over the driver his cash before pulling me out the side door.

"Rob-" The rest of his name was lost in another violent hiccup. "Don' wanna go back yet."

"Oh, come now," Robin tut-ed. "You'll be fine. Your lion-hearted brother will help you sleep it off."

"No," I struggled out of his grasp and my ass subsequently collapsed onto the sidewalk. Goodfellow hoisted me up. Pretty strong for a guy who claimed the gym was a societal ploy for incompetents and inadequates who couldn't get laid on their own merits.

"Whooa…" I latched onto his arm for support and held on until the ground shifted back into place. "Rob'n take it easy, huh? Mmm…'m not feelin' so great."

"Yes and I'm trying my best to wrangle you inside before you soil my shirt beyond recognition." He shook his head. "So uncooperative."

"Pssshh," I raspberried. "Someone got grumpy. Pas' yer bedtime?"

"Hardly," Goodfellow continued lugging me up the stairs. Somehow, I ended up in a fireman's carry over his shoulder. Probably after I tripped and nearly busted my teeth on the stairs. "But it's definitely past yours."

I could tell from Niko's icily placid expression that he had been expecting the knock on the door. Knowing the elder Leandros, he'd probably followed his little brother to the bar, imitated Aragorn in a shady corner, and leapt rooftops as we all made our way back to their apartment. And all without a single hair out of place.

"I believe this belongs to you," I smirked and hauled Caliban inside the tiny apartment.

"Thank you." Niko's voice betrayed not a hint of emotion or worry. He may as well have been thanking me for bringing by his laundry. He turned to glance appraisingly at his little brother and immediately relieved me of my bundle. I watched as he dragged Cal over to the sofa.

The kid was a wreck - mumbling incoherently and giggling to no one in particular. He gradually became aware of his surroundings and who was holding him upright. As recognition dawned, I watched his features harden and a dark shadow passed over his eyes before dissolving into stormy gray. And I wish I hadn't literally meant, dissolve. Cal's eyes filled with tears as he pushed Niko's hands away and lurched off the couch.

"Get off'a me! Don' need yer help." Cal stumbled over to their small armory and braced his hands against the wall as though holding it up was a monumentally important task.

Niko sighed as he rose and quietly strode over to his brother. "You shouldn't have done that." His voice was soft as he scolded. "You could have gotten yourself killed tonight, Cal. Or worse."

"'S a running theme," Cal choked. He rested his forehead against the rough brick and picked at the flaking cement.

Niko's eyes flinched and I saw something like guilt dent the infallible exterior.

"Cal, don't do this." And I'd never heard Niko plead but at that moment it was a near thing.

I watched Niko purposefully refuse to move a muscle as Cal's fist suddenly swung around and smacked into his jaw with a dull pop.

"Don't do this?" Cal seethed. The awkward force of the punch sent him reeling and Niko groping for his shirt to steady him. I marveled at the man's calm.

"Don't do this when you almost fuckin' died? W-when I watched you get sucked into the Rob Zombie version of a snot monster an'…an' nearly suffocate? What if I couldn't have gotten you out, Nik, huh? D'you think about that?"

The pained expression that darkened Niko's perfect features proved that indeed, he had. But Cal was too busy venting his drunken rage to notice.

"You can't do that, Nik," Cal's spurt of adrenaline drained as suddenly as it had come. He slumped against the wall and swallowed down fresh tears. "Y-…you just can't."

"Cal," Niko tilted his brother's chin up to meet his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere, all right?"

"Not without me?" Cal sniffed and I couldn't help but feel like I was suddenly intruding on a very private moment.

"Not without you."

Cal seemed to relax, Niko's firm response loosening his tense body like a good dose of Zanex. He promptly collapsed against his brother's chest, chin draping over Niko's shoulder as the alcohol finally pulled him under. The elder boy cupped Cal's head and rubbed his back as I imagine a mother would soothe her upset child.

Cal mumbled something I couldn't make out and nuzzled his face deeper into his brother's shoulder. Niko nodded patiently and I decided then was as good a time as any to bow out.

Just as I turned to leave, Niko shifted his head to look up at me. The stony calmness was securely in place again and if he was surprised to find me still there, he didn't let it show. I felt out of place none-the-less and nodded a sympathetic smile in his direction.

"Need any help?" I offered.

Niko managed a polite quirk of his lips and shake of his head before lifting Cal off the floor.

"We're fine. Thank you for bringing him home."

Right. Definitely my cue. Big brother would take it from there.

As I headed for the door I heard Cal slurring something about "our friendly neighborhood puck" and couldn't help but smile.

These brothers would be the death of me. Of that I was certain.

Fuck. The light was so damn bright it was searing holes straight through the sheets and directly into my retinas. And my head…oh God, my head. I was pretty sure a family of woodpeckers had taken up permanent residency in it overnight.

I tried retracing my steps, but last night was kind of a blur. I vaguely recalled Goodfellow dragging me back to the apartment. I couldn't believe I'd been so out of it as to trust Goodfellow to drag me anywhere.

Christ. The woodpeckers were definitely tunneling their way to freedom. I was a moron. Fucking stupid. But then again that was me - stupid is as stupid does - regular Forrest Gump. Except my life was anything but a box of goddamn chocolates. Guh…chocolate. I gagged and swallowed. Valiantly battling down what was starting to feel inevitable.

Right on cue, the master ninja himself sauntered into my room, non-too subtly. Whatever he thought about last night, I was pretty sure getting drunk off my ass wasn't on Nik's list of greatest hits. Of course that's taking into consideration Nik's chart topper is most likely the day he first blackmailed me into swallowing all my veggies.

"Rise and shine, grasshopper," his far too cheerful voice rang out at a hundred decibels above it's normal level. Bastard. With all the grace of a freaking ballerina he tossed aside the ratty curtains as Mount Vesuvius erupted in my face. I groaned and hurriedly threw the covers over my pounding head.

Nik set down a glass of something undoubtedly vile before easily wrestling the blankets away from my protesting hands. I remained curled in a fetal position before he started poking at my ribs like a goddamn two-year old.

"Now, Cal none of that," he crooned using his most obnoxious June Cleaver imitation. "Sit up and drink your lunch."

I eyed the glass warily from underneath the arm that shielded my face. "I'm not drinking your weed juice," I groaned loudly and tried to roll onto my stomach - away from Niko and his glass of bio-hazardous waste.

My brother didn't even blink. "No weeds were harmed in the blending of this beverage," he intoned. "However, it may help with the after effects of your obscene overindulgence…mostly. Drink." He waited patiently, cup in hand, for me to cave.

That wasn't exactly what happened. I think I dozed off again because next thing I knew, I felt myself being hoisted up by the elbows. The alteration in gravity set the room to tail-spinning about ninety-five miles per hour and suddenly my fragile stomach was not a happy camper.

Niko still had hold of one of my elbows so I clumsily shoved him off before attempting to flail out of the bed. I managed to stand but the room was having too much fun dancing the fucking Hungarian Waltz to stay still long enough for me to make it to the bathroom.

I guess Nik took pity on my dilemma. That or he wasn't particularly in the mood to scrub the floors. And I'm not sure, but I think my face was sporting a pretty stellar expression: boasting panicky eyeballs enhanced by the forest green tone of my skin and my lips probably had that sucked lemon look on display.

Niko swiftly manhandled me into the tiny bathroom. I scrambled away from his grasp and collapsed in front of the toilet. But there were two of everything and my slippery hands were struggling with the lid. Obviously, I wasn't the last one in there or the stupid thing would've been up already.

I vaguely registered Niko's arm extending over my head to lift the damn lid. I thanked him by promptly puking up my guts. Seriously, he uncovered the bowl with a half second to spare. I sometimes think he enjoys the objective humor of keeping me on my toes a little too much for both of our good.

I yanked off a wad of toilet paper and scrubbed it roughly across my mouth, coughing into the tissue.

"You are just non stop barrels of fun, little brother." Nik stood over me, wet wash clothe at the ready. "Never a dull moment."

"I try," I rasped before lowering my aching head to rest on my forearm. A horrible cold sweat broke out all over my goose-pimpled flesh and trickled down my back. It was a good bet that my head was planning on floating off any second as I knelt beside the bowl, trying to breathe through the fresh waves of nausea. I was panting like a dehydrated lap dog and I knew how pathetic I must've sounded but I couldn't really bring myself to care because the next moment I'd lost the battle. My stomach lurched and then my head was practically drowning in the bowl as lunch from yesterday scorched its way up my gullet.

God, I was never eating again. I was freaking exhausted and I had backsplash on my chin. Awesome.

Somewhere in the midst of my misery Niko had rescued my head from the toilet and balanced the leaden weight against his hand. His other rested securely on my shoulder. I coughed and then swallowed experimentally.

"When I say alcohol is bad for you, perhaps next time you'll believe me? All those educational videos and this is what I end up with." He shook his head with a longsuffering sigh. The comment was nonchalant but I detected the concern underneath the levity.

Relax, Cyrano, I'm not exactly dying to drown myself again anytime soon. My temple's boycotting booze. Your inner priest can give thanks - candles, incense, the whole enchilada - is what my response sounded like in my head.

What came out instead was a croaking, "Yeah," and after a few seconds an eloquently expressed, "Fuck," as I felt my mouth flooding with saliva and my throat constricting. I swallowed a few times on reflex as I braced my arms against the porcelain.

My foot had fallen asleep and I shifted to find a more comfortable position. Oh, not good. The uncoordinated jolt of movement sent me diving back over the bowl.

Thankfully, this time there wasn't a whole lot left to yak but I guess my bitch of a stomach didn't get the memo. Yeah, anything that made you feel so God-awful had to be deemed chickesque. The next few minutes were spent alternately dry heaving and gradually losing all dignity I formerly possessed as I lay panting for oxygen against Niko's chest. He wasn't moving and I wasn't in the mood to make him.

"Ahh, guh…" The bathroom tiles took another sickening twirl as I tried to lever myself up. Not a whole lot of success with that. My body was slick with sweat. Even my hands were having a bitch of a time hanging onto the sides of the toilet.

"Just shoot me already," I groaned, tugging at Niko's shirt like a nagging infant. I couldn't help it. Death was starting to look like a viable option. This shit was so much worse - pure unadulterated misery.

I felt a firm hand press between my shoulder blades, steadying me. "No can do, little brother. You're not getting rid of me that easily. Besides, have you ever known me to waste a perfectly good bullet?"

I opened my mouth to inform Niko where he could shove that perfectly good bullet but my stomach had an opinion of its own. Another painful spasm and I was clinging to the toilet again. If my stomach didn't cut this shit out soon I was taking matters into my own hands…bullet or no bullet. I'd get creative. That is if I didn't suffocate first.

I sort of thought I was finished and tried to get up for a drink of water. Nik helped me lean over the sink, instructing me to go slow. I pretty much ignored him and gulped down mouthfuls of tepid water earning myself a few seconds of satisfied relief. But my bitchy stomach was having none of that and three seconds after I'd wiped my mouth on the towel it abruptly came gushing right back up into the sink.

Good times.

Groaning, I collapsed beside the toilet to heave some more - mostly because my legs were too shaky to keep me upright over the sink.

"Cal, I think you got it all." Nik was perched on the lip of the tub, one hand braced on his knee and the other I didn't have the energy to shove off my back. I could hear him trying for a smirk but it came out all thick with patented Cyrano worry instead. "You done?"

I drew a few shaky breaths and seriously considered the question for a few seconds before wiping the back of my hand across my mouth. "Yeah, I think. No wait…yeah. Jus' gimme a sec."

"Okay," he said as he leaned over me to flush the toilet. I watched the mess swirl down and the assaulting smell almost did me in again, but I brought the urge under control and struggled to my feet. The headache had returned with a vengeance but at least my stomach had settled down a little.

"Easy," Nik warned as he helped me back over to the sink. I only swished the lukewarm water this time and ran a shaky hand through my sweat soaked hair. The dizziness was also back with a vendetta and I felt myself listing against the wall. My head found an awkward purchase against the towel ring and my eyes drooped shut. If it weren't for my brother I most likely would've stayed there. Sleep was definitely calling my name.

"No you don't. Come on, back to bed first." Niko hooked an arm around my waist and I blinked slowly before glancing up at him.

"'M tired," I sighed, sounding more like a whiny two-year old than my nineteen-year old adult self. Nik would argue the last half of that sentence was debatable.

This time I actually caught a genuine smile lurking at the corners of his mouth. "I bet you are, little brother. That was more exercise than I've been able to pound out of you in weeks." I gave him a half-hearted elbow in his own stomach.

My legs were still pretty much jelly so Niko was obliged to help me back into the abandoned bed; which felt damn heavenly in case you were wondering. Angels singing hallelujah and all that shit. My head had just hit the pillow when a glass of greenish brown goop was shoved in my face for the second time that morning.

"Drink," Nik commanded. I wrinkled my nose and had to swallow a few times before I could answer.

"Nik, I haven't puked on you yet but I'll do it, swear, if you make me drink that sewer drain smoothie."

Niko raised his eyebrows a half millimeter, apparently undeterred. Not that it was my best defensive counterattack by a long shot. I blame the lack of creativity on all the brain cells my brother so helpfully informed me I murdered last night.

"I don't remember you having a say in this, Cal," he remarked patiently. "Besides, it'll help. Don't make me hold your nose and feed you through a straw."

I knew when I'd lost the hand. Niko wasn't one to make idle threats but I sure as hell didn't have to bow out gracefully. I snarled at him before reaching for the glass and taking a tentative sniff.

"Jesus, Nik," I gagged half-heartedly. "You can't be serious. That shit isn't fit to feed stable animals. Nuh uh, not happening." I shook my head. Mistake by the way because the woodpeckers started up their Shawshank reenactment again. I groaned miserably and threw an arm over my face.

Niko was calm as freaking Ghandi when he reminded me, "I can sit here and shove all day little brother and we have quite an abundance of straws in the kitchen cabinet, my mind an infinite plethora of possibility of what to do with them. Best to just get it over with." Then he added wryly, "Come on, be a sport."

I decided if I was going to have any peace and quiet ever again, I might as well drink the damn weeds and make him happy. Otherwise, it was true – he'd stay in that exact same spot all day holding the glass under my nose. Because my brother was a goddamn sadist. But I really didn't want to be the guinea pig for a chapter in the Niko Leandros' Self-Help Guide: 45 Ways to Kill Someone with a Bendy Straw.

"Better get me a bucket," I griped before grabbing the glass and downing the disgusting concoction in one fell swoop. Granted, I almost choked myself to death in the process. It took a few seconds of convulsive swallowing to convince my stomach I wasn't trying to poison it. But in the end Nik was right. It stayed down…

For all of fifteen minutes.

Dammit, I had just started dozing off too. My stomach was feeling…weird again. Like there was something trying to wriggle its way free. Friggin' weeds. The unpleasant sensation wasn't settling down either. I rolled over and wrapped my arm around my gurgling belly. Ah, shit.

I tried to get up but I may has well have been on a fucking merry-go-round for all the good that did me.

"N-Nik…" Everything looked like a damn Picasso painting and I was starting to panic. I could feel my stomach muscles tightening – preparing more like – and saliva pooled in my mouth because I was too afraid to swallow it back down. Shit. I was busy imagining all the ways I was going to kill my brother when the first cramp assaulted my gut.

Determined not to lose my last shred of dignity by vomiting all over the bed I braced my arms and lifted my protesting body into a sitting position, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. The next thing I knew a rough hand was on my shoulder and my brother's face focused into view looking mildly concerned.

My stomach wasn't screwing around and before I could warn him to get the hell out of the way, I was leaning over the side and puking green liquid goop all down the front of Nik's shirt. So much for that last shred of dignity.

Niko didn't even flinch, and wasn't that just unnerving as hell. I would've been hopping out of my skin and probably returning the favor if someone had just hurled all over me. Screw related.

"Feel better?" He sounded almost amused and that kind of pissed me off.

"No," I retorted, weakly swiping at my mouth. "You have two heads. I can hardly deal with your overachieving, OCD ass as it is. If there's two of you that means its the end of the world."

I felt a sturdy flick behind my ear. "Hey," I protested, rubbing at the tender spot. "I'm sick, that's a free pass."

"Little brothers who vomit all over my favorite shirt don't get free passes. Besides you're not sick. You're hungover."

"Nik, you don't have a favorite shirt. You have variations on the color black." I scowled. "And I don't get hangovers. Probably something I ate."

Niko grinned smugly. "Apparently you do. I remember Sophia's glory days, mornings after included. And you, little brother, reek of debauchery."

He quirked his eyebrows giving me a disgusted once over, "You smell like you went for a dip in a ninety-proof swimming pool." And then added with a grimace, "Although, knowing Goodfellow I suppose it's entirely plausible that he would own a pool filled with alcohol."

"Can we please change the subject?" I begged. My stomach was still rocky. And thinking about drowning in a pool of whiskey wasn't helping matters. Yeah, I was definitely swearing the stuff off for good.

"Nik, I'm sorry."

I could feel my cheeks flushing when I glanced down at my brother's shirt. I gagged and covered my mouth with my fist. Damn my freaking hyperactive nose. Wasn't doing me any favors.

Before he left to change, Niko relocated his 'bleach bucket' beside my bed and told me to aim "straight and true". I glared but didn't say anything else about it. Mostly because I was pretty sure my aim was way the fuck off and would be for a while yet.

Nik returned a few minutes later and his lips twitched in amusement when he glanced down at me. I on the other hand didn't find the situation quite as amusing.

"Cal, you look like you're having a staring contest with the bucket. The buckets winning by the way."

"It's taunting me," I muttered.

"Hmm," Nik hummed. "Do explain."

"If I look at the bucket then I won't puke because I know it's there, waiting for me to lose. But if I lay down then I'll start thinking about the reassurance that it's right there waiting for me and I'll definitely puke. This way I have the control."

"Uh huh," Niko crossed his arms and quirked his eyebrows. "You're still drunk aren't you? Because if you were trying to make sense-"

"Oh God, please shut up," I begged.

Niko smiled in that way I knew meant he was only indulging me for his own amusement. "You really do feel awful don't you, little brother?"

"How could you tell," I swallowed against my weaving vision and shitty sarcasm.

"Your newly discovered passion for exterior decorating not withholding, you said please."

I huffed at him; pretty much the only thing I had the energy for.

"Nik," My eyes were starting up that thing where they closed by themselves. "'M really tired," I repeated like I was two and he should pick me up and stuff me in bed or something.

"Well, then lie down."

"Thought we covered this."

"Right." Niko placed his hands on his hips and glared skeptically at the bucket. "Come on," he started tugging my arm – I tugged back.

"The hell? Get off'a me."

"We're moving to the couch. You can sit up and I'll even turn on the TV."

"Nik, please…" And I didn't mean to sound so pathetic but Niko stopped to stare at me anyway. "If I move I'll…" I paused to swallow. Even thinking about moving was making me feel sick. I bowed my head between my knees and leaned over to spit in the bucket. A warm solid hand cupped the back of my neck and the pressure felt good – relaxing. I felt myself falling asleep. Then I felt myself falling forward and a firm hand bracing against my chest, holding me steady.

What else was new?

"Okay, time to lie down for real."

"Bu-"

Niko had zero tolerance for protesting. "I have the bucket right here if you need it. Now quit whining and lie back."

I obeyed while Niko settled himself in a chair with War and Peace.

I knew we wouldn't talk about last night and that was fine. We'd both deal and move on – it was the only way to stay sane. I just needed to learn to handle these things better. Right…these things. And wasn't that the kicker: your brother nearly gets eaten...inhaled…whatever, in an overgrown, enraged troll and it was just commonplace. That was screwed up.

But I decided I could rein in the freak-outs as long as Niko was still there to freak out about.

"Everything staying where it's supposed to?" Niko's soft question dredged my mind back to the present and I didn't even realize I'd been staring at him. I quickly looked away and nodded.

It was. For now everything was.

And I intended to keep it that way.

End.