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William frowned at the strange, melon concoction that was placed in front of him. "You're sure this will be good?" He asked, tone laced with concern.
"It should be, almost everyone here has one," Grell replied, gesturing around to the other occupants of the restaurant sitting near them, giving the man an easy smile.
"Then why didn't you get one, too?" He narrowed his eyes skeptically at her.
"Because I don't like melon," she stated simply, taking a sip of her own drink that was a combination of raspberry and peach, with a shot of tequila mixed in (which looked far more appealing than his own, might he add).
"Right. Well, why did you think I would?"
She gave him a 'are you being serious right now?' kind of look.
"You literally told me just last week that you always ordered a similar version whenever you'd go on holiday with your family during the summer."
"Yes, but that's why I said 'similar', because the ones I used to get were inside a regular glass, not inside half a melon."
"That's a fair point. But come on, Wiiill! You won't know if you like it or not unless you try it."
"I don't know, Grell. What if... what if it doesn't taste right?"
He cringed–both at the thought of eating something that could potentially make him gag in public, and from how childish he knew he sounded (why he even asked something like that in the first place, was beyond him).
"Then that would be just fine, you can easily order something else if that's the case, I won't be upset or anything. I know how sensitive of a palette you have, so I'd never force you to finish something you didn't like or find enjoyable."
William couldn't help the light flush that dusted over his cheeks at the woman's words. All these years later, and Grell could still make him blush like a school boy.
"Yeah, ah–" He cleared his suddenly dry throat (well, didn't that just work out perfectly?)–"Alright then, I'll give it a try. But even though I'm agreeing to this, I swear, Sutcliff, if it tastes disgusting enough to out right make me vomit in public; I'll make sure it's all over you." The brown haired man gave her a mock glare.
Grell chuckles behind her glass. "Duly noted, Spears, my dear. But I'm feeling pretty positive that you'll like it. After all, you can never go wrong with tequila."
The sound of vomit splattering into water echoed loudly in the small bathroom for the fourth time in just two hours.
William groaned, leaning his head against the rim of the toilet seat once he finished expelling (what he hoped was) the remainder of his breakfast.
They just had to go out last night. They just had to try out the new restaurant in town. It had been such a great idea the previous week–especially since they recently hadn't been able to spend many dinners together because of work–but now, now it just seemed like very stupid. They should have just went to one of their usual places, they really should have.
"Hey, how you feeling?"
A gentle voice asked from the doorway.
"Like I've been shot in the head multiple times, had my stomach ripped to shreds by ferocious animals, and dumped into an icy lake in December," he responded hoarsely, lifting his gaze to look at the concerned and guilty looking woman.
"It's not your fault, Grell. Nobody would ever suspect a five star restaurant of being capable of serving meals that cause food poisoning. And we most certainly will never be going back there ever again."
William moaned, weakly wrapping an arm around his midsection when his stomach gave a jolt of pain and nausea, all at once.
"I know, but... it still sorta is my fault."
After swallowing back his thickening saliva, William asked, "What–what do you mean?"
"I did some research online and, um... turns out that the drink you had..." Grell trailed off and stood silent for a few prolonged seconds. "It... well, it turns out that melons, specifically cantaloupe melons, are very easilyyy... contaminated with salmonella," Grell finished, just loud enough for William to hear.
Huh. Well, wasn't that just ironic. He had actually really enjoyed that drink, too, especially the melon itself, a fruit he'd never eaten (unless in the form of artificial flavoring) a day in his life, until last night. Hell, he even ordered a second one as soon as he'd got through with the first–which now, at this moment in time, he deeply regretted. For once, a food he was able to eat and greatly enjoy, ended up being the reason he felt as sick as a dying dog. How bloody ironic.
"It's still not your fault, Grell. You didn't know that information until only just moments ag-oooo–" The man got cut off by a groan when his stomach did a dangerous flip, and ended with him gagging into the bowl again. The only thing he managed to bring up this time around was a long, thick, sticky string of mucus and bile, before the rest of his retching turned into dry heaves.
He didn't know what felt worse; actually having solids in his stomach to throw up, or having nothing in him at all and being reduced to essentially throwing up air. They were both pretty shit experiences to have, so he'd say it was a draw.
William took in a few deep, ragged breaths, body shaking from the exertion of vomiting and the chills coursing through him. He was so concentrated on getting his breathing back under control, and not falling over and smashing his head against the tile, that he didn't register the hand rubbing soothing circles on his back until he heard the sound of the toilet flushing.
"Come on, Will, dear, let's get you to bed." Grell gripped his arms and helped him stand up.
Once he was upright, Grell wrapped her arm around his waist. "Lean against me, darling, I've got you," she said softly, using her free hand to brush his sweat damp hair out of his eyes.
William nodded weakly, wrapping an arm of his own around her and laying his feverish head on her shoulder, slightly nuzzling his face against her. She always smelled like a field of fresh roses, with just a hint of coconut from the shampoo and conditioner she used. No matter how awful his body may have felt, he could stay like this forever in her warm, gentle embrace, and be perfectly content.
Before William knew it, they had made it to his bedroom. Grell gently guided him onto his bed, covering him with just the sheet from the bedding and leaving the thick comforter at the end of the mattress. She grabbed the wastebasket by his desk and placed it right beside the bed, before taking a seat at the edge.
"I hate seeing you suffer like this. I shouldn't have been so pushy about you having that drink. I'm so sorry, Will." She gave a heavy sigh.
"It's really not your fault, Grell, you don't need to apologize. I don't blame you for any of this, I promise. These things just happen, and they can't always be prevented. And hey, look on the bright side, I get to laze about in bed for a few days, and I also get to have my amazing best friend be my doting caretaker for those next few days as well." William did his best to give her a reassuring smile, even though he could feel his eyes growing heavier with exhaustion, body begging him to sleep.
Grell smiled back at him, a red hue painting her cheeks. "I suppose you're right. And I am a pretty great caretaker, if I do say so myself–what with the skills I've learned from nursing you back to health countless other times before and all," she teased, a playful smirk forming on her beautiful and still slightly rosy face.
William couldn't help but chuckle, ignoring the sharp pain that came down on his head like a rain of knives as he did. "Hey, I've nursed you back a few times myself too, ya know."
"Yes, yes, I know. And thank you for that. You're almost just as good as I am at it."
"Oh, 'almost', hm? Well, I don't think I was just 'almost' good when I made you that special homemade tea that helped lessen that bad cough you had last time you were ill. Guess that means if you ever got a cough like that again, you wouldn't want any of my warm, delicious, miracle tea." William feigned a forlorn sigh.
Grell chuckled, and very lightly smacked William's sheet covered leg. "Oh, hush you. Of course I'd want your miracle tea again." She combed through his hair one last time, before standing up from the bed and placing her hands on her hips. "Now, you just continue to rest up and get better, while I go an' get a towel and bowl of cold water so we can start bringing that fever of yours down. Then in just a bit we'll need to at least try getting some Dioralyte into you, so you don't become dehydrated–so I better not hear any complaints from you about the Dioralyte, mister. Understood?"
He chuckled again. "Yes, ma'am."
"Good. I'll be back in a jif then, Will, dear," she said, flashing the man a smile, before walking out of the room.
William let out a soft breath, closing his eyes and letting his body relax into the pillows and mattress, a dreamy grin plastered on his face.
He really couldn't ask for a better best friend to love.