Archive of Our Own

When you hit the age of thirty, most people go through the, ‘midlife but not quite’ stage. That was what Mabel was currently experiencing. Now she was in no way halfway through her life, not that she knew of, obviously. Nor was she old at all, but the whole loomingness and idea of the fact she was now the big number of thirty had intimidated her quite a bit.

When you hit that age, it was the beginning of the time of your life where you started having your things figured out for good. You should just know which things you like or dislike, you have your close friends and you share your stories and hobbies with them and just- Exist , exist as an adult.

Of course you don’t need to have everything figured out, Oliver and Charles sure as Hell didn’t, that she knew way too damn well about.

So what was with this sudden impulse to get shit figured out? What would changing any of this prove?

Nothing, really. She just felt like it was time for a change.

… Which was why it was now 2 PM in the afternoon, and she’d just splashed out a whole $200 on shopping for her newest, ‘ambition’ and definitely not impulse purchase, cooking.

She didn’t know how to do that very well. And by not knowing how to do it, she meant that anything she’d ever attempted to make had ended up burning, or just being full-on inedible.

But when you can afford to stay in the arconia, even if it’s your aunts, you can afford to eat out at cafe’s, restaurants and places where you don’t need to make your own food.

Charles always cooked a lot, he could cook well. And Oliver… Existed , just like her. 

Actually- Now that she was thinking about it, she couldn’t really recall ever seeing a time where the other man cooked. Minus, of course that one singular time when everyone came over to his apartment for rehearsals for performing Death Rattle. He’d prepared food then, if you could honestly count putting a bunch of chopped up vegetables and store-bought dip on a tray as cooking.

She didn’t. Which was why she’d brought all of the ingredients fresh, which taught her pretty quickly how expensive buying ingredients on its own genuinely was.

But it had already been bought, and there was no going back now, so it was time to cook. She’d actually had the idea in mind to make something for her two best friends, because to be fully honest, if she was just making all of this for herself alone, she wouldn’t have bothered.

Besides, the two would probably love it. They liked to eat, or at least Oliver did. Anytime she’d see him, he was always snacking on something. But to be fair, she had about zero clue how many calories dips had. Probably not very many though, considering it was just glorified sauce in a tub. 

He either really loved them, or had some eating addiction.

But enough with the distractions, and back to the task at hand, cooking.

It was safe to  say she had no fucking clue what she was doing, only that she needed to put this shit in the kitchen and figure it out.

Thankfully, to the lack of ever actually making anything, the kitchen was surprisingly clear. Or at least, clear enough to actually be usable. The random books and objects she’d placed on the counter at some point weren’t helping.

As she’d placed everything out on the counter, she stared at it momentarily. She’d kind of gone into this blind with no real idea what she was going to make, which was probably poor planning on her part.

What to make, what to create…

… Was it bad that she was actually considering making dips? Okay no, what could she make for all of them. ‘All’ of them being Charles and Oliver, of course, because if Mabel was being real to herself, she was not making this for her.

Sandwiches? No, that wasn’t a dinner. Not a socially acceptable one, anyway.

Chicken Soup? You couldn’t fuck up making soup, right?

It was the only real idea she had, and would probably be the easiest because at least she had some basic knowledge of how to make it. It would be more simple than trying to make something she had no clue about, and there was no way in Hell she’d try attempting the fancy gourmet type shit.

Okay, soup then, settled.

Tapping on the screen as she began to unlock her phone, she let her finger swipe to the messages app

Clicking on the groupchat that Oliver so cleverly titled, ‘OliMabel’ (Which she’d had to set, because he couldn’t figure out how), she sent a message into the groupchat.

Charles has left the group chat.

… Okay, then.

Rolling her eyes, she quickly re-added him back into the groupchat. 

Mabel snorted, rolling her eyes as she watched Charles typing icon appear and disappear twice over the span of thirty seconds.

Deciding that was her queue to stop being distracted and get back to cooking, she sighed and closed the app. As she washed her hands, she intentionally avoided eye-contact from  the new messages she was getting.

It was Charles texting her privately asking if she could re-add him back to the group chat, followed by three more asking that Oliver’s admin powers were removed.

She turned her phone off and began slicing at the vegetables.

-

This was not going great…

So somehow, she’d managed to burn half the vegetables, which she didn’t know was even possible considering the fact she’d been boiling it and not cooking it in an oven. Another thing she’d managed to mess up was pouring away some of the broth down the sink when, straining it and having to start over.

Luckily enough, she’d managed to very largely over-estimate how many ingredients were needed, so she still had plenty so spare, meaning she could try again and hopefully not fuck it up as much this time.

“Jesus…” She mumbled under her breath.

As she absorbed herself into this second batch, she could already tell that the food wasn’t exactly looking great , but! It didn’t look full on inedible either. Her original attempt, long since discarded.

She was making real progress this time! Which by that, she meant actually googling what she was meant to do instead of making guesses and hoping her food-tech skills from like fifteen years ago would pay off.

With how long she’d been spending on this, and the fact she’d wasted all that time on the first try, she genuinely found herself surprised as her phone lit up with a random odd text, letting her see a glance of the time and seeing how it was 4PM.

And in those two hours she was gone, she’d come back to her phone being absolutely blown up with text messages. (She’d added Charles back to the group chat sometime within the first fifteen minutes, once he’d passed 17 texts to her, which after doing so, had promptly muted the chat, silencing it) But it appeared that after doing so, the two had managed to have an argument or something.

The two of them would be coming over to hang out and eat at six, which left her with around exactly two hours to not fuck this up, because there wouldn’t be enough time otherwise.

Slicing and dicing more vegetables, focusing on the way the knife cut through them so effortlessly, she used it to slide them to the side, minding her fingers as she did so. She placed the cut up slices into a bowl, shaking it around.

The part she wasn’t too sure if it was cheating or not, was that she’d bought pre-cut chicken. The kind that already had all the bones taken out of it, because even though she was semi-confindent, she still sure as Hell didn’t trust herself not to somehow manage to leave a bone in there by accident.

All she needed to do was cook it though, because it may be boneless, but it was still raw chicken.

Pouring all of her shaken ingredients into a metal pot, she grinned down at how everything looked, ‘mixed’ evenly. The boiling water being the next part of the cooking, splashing satisfyingly over everything.

From there, she let the pot begin to boil on the stove, perfect.

All was basically done, now all she needed to do was wait for Oliver and Charles.

-

“However! I’m not the one who decided to print out photos of my phone screen of a funny image I saw, instead of just showing it to eachother normally.” Argued the psuedo-middle child of the three.

Olivers remark just got an annoyed scoff from Charles.

“I thought it was more convenient! I didn’t want to come to your guys apartments in the middle of the night, this was easier!” He defended.

A pause, “Just text it to us!”

Drowning out their nonsense, Mabel just groaned. “ Guys.” Being fed up with the pair already. The whole walk from their apartments, back to her own, she’d been stuck in the elevator listening to them bickering back and fourth the whole time.

“Just go- Shut up and sit at the table while I finish up the food.” Practically shoving them on the back as they stumbled. Realising that an argument with her was pointless, they shrugged and just followed her instructions, sitting down at her surprisingly-clean dinner table.

It was weird to see it without some kind of mess on it, like the scattering of sketchbooks or Investigation clues. Which, to be fair, was pretty calming to not have to see for once.

After a temporary truce for the sake of not getting a wooden spoon thrown at their head by Mabel, the two started to talk properly.

“Sooo, whatever do you think it is that Mabel's made?”

“Something for us.” Charles pointed out plainly, Oliver blinking momentarily.

“Yes, I know that. But what?” He tried again.

“Food.” A pause.

“Y’know, I think I’m done talking to you, Charles.”

But they in fact, weren’t done talking.

“So Mabels learning how to cook? Hey, Oliver. Did you know I used to make sandwiches for myself everyday since I was Seven?”

“And when was this, the great depression? I don’t think two slices of bread count as a sandwich.”

This type of arguing went on for a while, the constant bickering back and fourth with eachother. Eventually it calmed, turning into the usual stuff of, ‘What did you do today’ and, ‘How do I connect to Mabels wifi again’, When the girl in question appeared, oven mitts on and a steaming pot in between them.

“So like I told you on the way here, I’m still new to this whole cooking thing, and I know It’s probably gonna be shit, but-” She was cut off before her rambles spiraled.

“ Mabel, whatever it is could be burned to a steak and we’d still love it.”

“ Well, It’s funny you should say that-”

-

There were three bowls infront of them, as the pot was placed into the center of the table, and Mabel did the unveiling of the soup, all that was said was Charles saying the simple word of,

“ Wow.”

To put it short and not-so-politely, it kind of looked absolutely horrendous. And it had actually taken Oliver and Charles to clock in that it was soup.

It looked.. Not how soup should look, and they were pretty sure that soup boiled in water shouldn’t have burnt bits. However, it didn’t smell bad at all, and definitely wasn’t bad for a first- Second attempt.

Breaking the silence, Oliver simple said the truth. “This smells great!” It was honest, and genuine. Sure it may looked like Howards dead cat had fallen into the pot, but at least it had one redeeming quality!

Apparently the three simple words weren’t enough and Mabel just sighed, “It’s shit, isn’t it?” To which the other two immediately intervene.

“No! I think it’s a great first attempt.” 

“Second, the first one was way worse.”

“ Still.”

As the three paused momentarily, watching as a bubble in it popped, nobody had made a move to do anything or dish it up, Oliver decided to make a move, reaching for the ladle and saying “I bet it tastes great.” Grinning at the pot, and at Mabel.

She’d made a weird face at that, is if the other was making fun of her. Still making no attempt to do anything, just letting him dish himself up a bowl.

Charles was beginning to sense the tension and uncertainty from her, waiting a moment before making a suggestion.

“Let’s order a pizza?”

“Let’s order a pizza.”

With Mabel pulling out her phone and walking away in silence, Charles hissed as he felt a sharp kick from underneath the table, making an audible, “Ow?!”

Sensing the disappointed glance, the white-haired man promptly avoided eye-contact.

“Charles, Charles. Now what was that?”

“What, do you genuinely want to eat it?” It wasn’t said in an insulting way, just a genuine question if he wanted to eat the ungodly looking creation.

“Mabel made it for us, it doesn’t look that bad, just… Burnt” It looked way worse than burnt, it looked crispy and raw at the same time. The vegetables were black in spots whilst the chicken still looked practically frozen.

“Besides, if I can handle losing a tooth from loretta's Matress on a plate, obviously I can handle this.”

Not bothering to even argue, he simply said “Your funeral.” Making a grimace as the other poured a hefty portion into the bowl, deciding he’d seen enough self-inflicted tourture for the next five minutes, he got up, going to find wherever Mabel went off to, leaving him alone with his meal.

So yeah, it looked bad and would probably taste bad. But honestly? Even though he was usually a bit of a prick and flat out blatant with his opinions, even he could tell Mabel seemed upset at their reactions, which was not an expression he liked seeing on her ever .

As he looked down into it, seeing the floating vegetables and chicken, he let his spoon scroop into it, bringing a bite upto his mouth. He held his breath, bracing for an unpleasant texture or taste.

… It actually tasted really nice. He’d expected something so far worse than what he was tasting, and it wasn’t bad in the slightest.

As he let himself take another bite of it, he glanced up as Charles and Mabel returning, the two freezing for a moment as he enjoyed Mabels creation.

“You… Don’t need to do that, Oliver. I’ve already ordered the pizza.” Did she think he was doing this out of guilt, or something? To make her feel better?

Well, yes a little but also because it was really nice.

“No, this is Great, actually. Genuinely.”

Mabel knew when Oliver was being a dickhead, or when he was being genuine. It was confusing, he sounded so convincing that she basically believed him.

… “ Really?” She smiled softly, Oh wow. She’d been so- Embarrassed , did he actually like it? It was stupid but she couldn’t stop her dumb grinning.

Accidentally making eye contact with Charles who was smiling at her like a proud Dad, she felt her face get red in embarrassment as she began to walk off. “... Whatever, food will be here in thirty minutes, so at least we’ll have some proper food then.”

Oliver just hummed, picking up the bowl and spoon, following the other two over to the couch as Mabel and Charles began to talk about what movie they should watch.

As the film began to play, the three found themselves really enjoying this. He, himself couldn’t help from grinning a few times, each time he saw Mabel watching him n the corner of his eye. She genuinely seemed really happy he liked it, which he did!

Pizza had arrived shortly after, and it seemed that suddenly the other two had an appetite again. Charles and Mabel each grabbing two slices of pizza.

He didn’t bother, though. content with what he was currently enjoying. He’d practically finished all of the first bowl, chicken included when he’d got up to prepare a second.

Mabel raised an eyebrow, “Really, Putnam? You’re not just doing this to make me feel better?”

Shaking his head no as he brought the spoon up to his mouth, he tried speaking with hit mouth full, “ L’vin it!’” Getting her to snort laughing and for Charles to roll his eyes and tell him to chew his food.

The three just… Talked, chatted like friends do! Snacking along throughout the night. The film had been amazing and so was hanging out with eachother, but it was always fun, way better than hanging out in their apartments alone like sad old people, because they weren’t that.

“Y’know, Mabel. I really do think you should cook more, this is great.” He affirmed again. Mabel genuinely seemed to believe it this time, she wasn’t very trusting, was she?

“Really…?” She never thought cooking would be her thing, and it probably wasn’t. But seeing how someone enjoyed something she’d made so much, it just… Felt incredible.

“Yeah, of course .”

As the credits began to roll, the three were knackered. It might’ve only been eight PM, but when all three of you are old, or at least have old-’energy’, you get exhausted insanely fast.

The three had hugged, Charles being the first to wish the two goodnight as he went to the elevator, Oliver was on his way to leave too when he asked out of curiosity.

“So, what’re you gonna do with the soup?”

Mabel just sighed, smiling in the corner of her mouth. “Seriously? You can just have it. I was gonna chuck it anyway.”

“Yes, score!” He beamed, gladly accepting it. Thankfully she’d poured it into one of her containers that Oliver was vaguely sure he’d seen her using for one of the bloody pieces of evidence, however free soup!

“Night Mabel!”

“ Goodnight, Oliver.”

And back at the apartment, his new handout gladly placed in the back of his fridge, he winced as he yawned loudly, stretching as he did so. God , he was tired. He took four steps towards the bed before not so graciously flopping onto it, sleep coming to him immediately.

-

When he woke up, it was still pitch black outside, which was a change from opening his eyes to the sun glaring in through the bedroom shades that he could never be bothered to closed. Even filled with so much sleep from the immediate waking, he knew that it was definitely not the morning yet. And how he probably still had a good few hours till it got light outside.

… What time even was it, anyway?

Grimacing as the sudden light illuminating from his phone lit up the whole room, glaring brightly in his eyes, he blinked a few times on instinct as they adjusted to whatever the small device said. As the numbers came into blurry-focus, he could barely make them out.

Four something, he could only see the first part and he wasn’t to bothered to keep staring to find out the second, but judging by the pure darkness it was likely early Four AM.

As the time passed, he began to feel more and more awake, with each second that he wasn’t sleeping, he felt the sleepy-feeling fading. And he also began to feel more aware of how he felt, now reeling how gross and sweaty he was, and how he felt generally uneasy.

He didn’t feel hot, though. He wasn’t a fan of using the heating, liking the place cold, with the exception of the fireplace on special occasions, like a new episode of a podcast, or a particularly good movie. 

It took him a second to realise to clock in that, Oh wow. He felt like shit , and that probably wasn’t good.

In an attempt to ignore it, he let himself lie back down under the blankets of which he had no memory of crawling under, he closed his eyes.

… He really wasn’t going to be able to ignore this, was it? It had been seven minutes and he was still trying to sleep. Which was’t long at all, but it was when you were actively trying to disregard the feelings you felt, the thoughts of how even if he did manage to fall asleep, he’d have to be up in another four-odd hours anyway for breakfast with the besties.

Breakfast, God that did not sound pleasing right now.

Apparently even the thought of it had made something change.

The feeling of tiredness entirely gone now, he sat up sharply, suddenly coming to realise two things.

One, that he felt sick. And two, that he was going to be sick.

 Like, right now.

Ignoring as his phone loudly crashed on the floor from falling of the bed, making an unpleasant noise as it slid across the wooden floorboards, he couldn’t be bothered to even spare it a second thought as he jumped up from the bed, moving faster than he had in the past twenty years.

Thankfully, he’d actually managed to make it three steps into the bathroom before everything went to shit. Because after those three steps, the immediate reaction of gagging began and he’d managed to reach his destination before violently leaning over the porcelain bowl and throwing up with more force than the time he’d gotten wasted at one of his friends' weddings after too many drinks.

Grimacing as he looked down, the automatic light in the bathroom illuminated the room dimly, just enough for him to quickly avert his eye-contact just as soon as he’d made it, not exactly thrilled to see the unwelcome return of the partially-digested chicken soup he’d had just a few hours earlier.

After another two immediate rounds of throwing up, he sat back against the wall with a gasp, trying to breathe for a moment after the unforgiving rounds. Letting himself take a few deep breaths, he sat on the floor with a groan, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

Tonight was going to be a long night.

-

It had become a bit of a routine now that everyday when the three of them woke up, they would all hang out at Charles apartment for an hour or two and eat breakfast, which usually consisted of a shit ton of omlettes. It was Eight Fourty-Five and Mabel had shown up at Charles door right on time, with a text first, of course.

Charles loved it, they all loved it actually, not that any of them would say it outloud. It was just a nice continuous thing that was always there for them to do, to get to see each other when their day started, and it usually put them in a good mood for the rest of it.

He’d just gone on to cooking his fourth omelette up, Mabel already eating the two that Charles had made a good twenty minutes ago.

Of course, they weren’t always able to make it, but if they weren’t, they’d usually send a text first, which was why Oliver not appearing was a bit unusual. That, and when they were all together last night, Charles had actually asked if they were still going to do it the next morning, which they all agreed on.

Even though the answer was a quite obvious no, Charles still decided on asking. “Have you heard from him at all?” To which Mabel shrugged as she tapped on her phone, presumably sending a message.

“No reply, the texts went through. Maybe he’s busy?” They all had lives and such, but still. To not even say anything? He was definitely awake by now, despite popular belief he actually woke up annoyingly early. Which the other two become quickly aware when they’d first become friends, with the sudden increment of 6 AM messages everyday.

Fashionably late or not, he would’ve said something, which gave her the idea to ask. “Think we should go over there?” That was the nice and annoying part of all living in the same building, your neighbours are just one elevator ride away. They’d simply knock, see what was going on, and then leave.

And so they left, at least, not before Charles finished his omelette he’d prepared. Grabbing the plate he’d made for Oliver, the two untouched eggs on it, just in case.

-

Three knocks on the door had seemed to be enough of a warning from Mabel, her voice calling out to the door. “ Hello? Oliver! Are you there?” There was silence on the opposite door for a minute.

“ Hellooo?”

 Mabel grunted, upset that her calling got no response, when Charles questioned. “Do you think he might just  not be in?”

And it was the second that he asked that, when Oliver almost telepathically heard him, calling out just to prove the other wrong. The two heard him call out through the shut door, “ JUST A SECOND !”

That was enough of an invite for Mabel, opening the door and walking in anyway. Charles thought that was insane how she could just do that, and maybe she heard him thinking, because she shot him an annoyed glare.

“I thought I told you guys to start locking your doors, you two are gonna get killed one of these days.” 

Oh, he quickly defended himself with that. “Sorry, is this my apartment? I always lock my doors, thank you.”

They’d walked in just in time to see Oliver emerge from the bathroom, wiping sweat from his forehead, looking as if he just came out of a sauna. Shrugging his dressing gown a little more over his shoulders, he displayed a surprised expression, not expecting that the other two would have just walked in.

“You guys! What are you doing here?” He flashed a smile, looking a little confused at the pair.

“You were meant to come have breakfast with us, like an hour ago.” Mabel deadpanned plainly.

“ Ah , yeah it seems I forgot about that.”

A pang of awkward silence hung in the air, Oliver leaned against the coffee table, sighing for a moment.

“I brought eggs!” Charles beamed, holding the plate up, Oliver instantly grimacing which he played off, or thought so.

“Are you… Okay?” Mabel frowned.

“What- Yeah, no- Never better!” Oh he absolutely wasn’t okay, he felt like shit.  

“You still up for it? Wait, you said you forgot so I’m guessing you already ate then?” Even the idea alone of even thinking of eating made him feel physically sick. There was no way in Hell that he was down.

Thankfully Mabel had now just given him an actual convenient excuse to avoid doing that. “Oh, yeah. I had-” What was something he could lie about without raising suspicion.

“ -A sandwich?”   Mabel interrupted with a snort.

“Well that was a fucking lie.” Shit. “Quit messing around, what was it really, Dips?”

… “You know me too well.”

-

So they were in his apartment now, where he wasn’t able to just lie down in the bathroom and die, great .

No, but really. He adored seeing them always and really enjoyed talking and hanging out with them, just- not currently. He’d prefer it more when he didn’t feel like this, any other time would be fine.

The other two had insisted that the three of them should do something, which Oliver absolutely wasn’t down for. But they already knew that he didn’t have any plans for today. So it wasn’t like he could exactly lie, at least not without arising any more suspicion than he already had, he didn’t want them to know why he was sick.

He knows why he felt like this, oh he absolutely knew. It was obviously from the food Mabel had made, but did he want her to know that? No fucking way, she’d be heartbroken.

She wouldn’t, but she probably wouldn’t cook again, and she’d feel bad about it for a while, even if she didn’t say anything, and he didn’t want that. Which was why he was gonna tough it out for her.

With the two still talking about what they should do or where they should head off to, not really wanting to go out anywhere, he simply shot down the plans before they spiraled into something big.

“ Actually , we could always just stay here at the arconia? Why do we always need to go out?”

“We never go out.” Mabel folded her arms.

Oh yeah.

…

 “ Why change our ways now?” As a sharp pain stabbed though his stomach, he grunted slightly. “I need to go grab something from the kitchen, be right back.” With Oliver leaving off towards the kitchen, Charles turned to her

“He’s acting weird, right?”

“ So fucking weird.”

“I’ll go talk to him.”

Mabel decided to sit on the couch as Charles began walking through the decently-sized apartment, over by the kitchen counter he could see Oliver standing there, both hands placed on it as his head was facing directly down with his eyes closed, as if he was zoned out and entirely lost in thought.

“What’s going on?” It was then he realised that quietly walking into the room behind someone and then speaking right next them while they had their eyes closed was a creepy thing to do. He’d discovered that when Oliver jumped, muttering a quick “Jesus-” And putting his hand over his chest.

“Sorry-” Followed by, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Yeah, no. I just didn’t feel like going out today, I’m fine.” He said vaguely. Charles didn’t look convinced, crossing his arms just like Mabel had a moment ago. Speaking of her, he’d noticed Oliver had lowered his tone, likely so she couldn’t hear.

Doing the same and lowering his voice himself, Charles quietly argued.

“Okay, so what’s wrong? You love going out?”

“I don’t need to have a reason Charles.”

“When you’re Oliver Putnam, you do. You’re a dramatic bastard, so cmon, what is it?”

Breaking his intense concentration of staring at the kitchen counter, he carefully peered over Charles shoulder to have a glance at seeing if Mabel was nearby at all.

Once he was positive she wasn’t going to appear, somehow hearing everything, he confessed.

“I feel like shit , Charles.”

“So you’re sick?”

“So fucking sick.” He frowned at that response, quietly walking over. Oliver only groaned, annoyedly at the others insistence of the whole situation. He’d also made an unamused expression when the other made eye contact with him.

He was especially annoyed when he felt Charles bring the back of his hand and put it on Olivers forehead.

“Now is this really necessary?”

“I’d prefer to use a thermometer, but when you’re sweating like a pig, I’d say it is.” He mumbled.

“Rude, and I’ll have you know I just got out of the shower.” He didn’t know why he lied then.

“Your hairs dry.”

“Did I say shower? I meant a bath.”

“Give it a rest, please. ” Charles hummed. “... How did you get sick, anyway?”

“I don’t know!” Oh, he did. “We’re old, it happens.”

“Yeah, but you only hangout with us. We’ve both seen you do so many unhygienic things and be absolutely fine, like eating from open-buffets when we tell you not too, drinking from new york water fountains , Hell! Touching subway railings. But that’s just how you are, and I thought you would’ve grown a tolerance to that by now.”

“Who knows.” He muttered, having mostly drowned out whatever Charles had said after the man began his rambling.

“It’s not like we’ve been doing anything different… Except-” Wait.

“ Did Mabels-” Oliver quickly cut him off.

“ Shut up.” He gritted, sending a glare at Charles, who put his hands up in defence.

The two both turned towards the door, making sure she wasn’t there or had heard anything. After a beat of silence, Charles tried to ask again. “Did the soup-”

“Yes, now be quiet before she hears.” Charles giving an understanding nod to that. 

Thank God for that, anymore food talk and he was convinced he’d start gagging. And if Mabel had heard, that would’ve been way harder to explain.

“Is this why you looked like you were dying when we came in?”

…

As Oliver began to walk off, presumably headed in the direction where Mabel was, he froze as Charles placed a hand on his shoulder, spinning him around gently.

“You know we’re gonna have to tell her something, right? I saw how you looked when we came in. Don’t think I didn’t notice the face you made when I brought the omelettes out. Sorry about that, by the way.”

“ Don’t-” Oliver brought his fist up to his mouth, “Talk about food right now.”

“See what I mean? Tell her you’re sick, you don’t have to tell her it’s food poisoning. Make a lie, and say It’s just a stomach bug, she’ll understand.”

“Ugh…She’ll know. It’ll be fine, I’ll avoid food.”

“Genuinely, though. Are you okay? That was chicken, right? And have you eaten anything since last night?”

“No, now go away.” Deciding to walk away from the other on his own, Charles thought he was just going to leave it at that when suddenly the other paused, looking over his shoulder and staring him in the eye. “And don’t you dare tell Mabel about it.” Finally leaving, headed off, back to where the youngest of the three was.

Charles just sighed and ran a hand down his face, this was not going to end well.

-

For the most part, Charles and Oliver had actually been doing a decent job at keepin this whole thing under wraps. They were doing it surprisingly well, and sure they might have had a few close calls- Like an upsetting amount of close calls, but everything was fine.

Sure, they felt pretty bad about lying, Oliver especially. He didn’t like how far the two of them had started stretching the truth. Of course he was always planning to lie to Mabel and not let her know, because a few lies was sure as Hell better than even entertaining the idea of telling her that her cooking was the reason he felt like this.

One thing that had been annoying him, though was that since Charles now had the information that he hadn’t actually eaten anything since the soup last night, which was by now a good fourteen or fifteen hours ago, Oliver was being prodded at every few minutes quietly by the other, telling him he should at least try eating something.

So far he’d managed to repeat this about a good five or so odd-times before getting harshly whispered at by the other to stop.

So since that they’d decided that none of them were going out anywhere, (Thanks to Charles for now agreeing with Oliver’s idea on staying put) They all decided that they still did want to do something. Because sitting around in an apartment just chatting sounded a bit boring.

As the three discussed through different ideas, the one that they landed on was the one Mabel suggested. Her idea was that they should all put on a new podcast, a murder mystery, one that wasn’t theres. It’d have to be one that the three hadn’t listened to yet.

It’d be fun, and it’d be like old times sake!

Which sure, yeah they could do that. That sounded quite fun, actually!

It had been a while since the three had actually tested if their mystery solving skills had improved since all the murders began, so this would be a nice switchup. It was a Hell of a lot less stressful than dealing with actual murders.

With the trio of besties sat together on the couch, Mabel was currently loading up the new podcast on her phone, once she’d successfully propped the device up with a pillow and some books, she sat back, not pressing play yet. 

“Before we start, do you guys mind if I go grab some snacks from my apartment? I’ll be quick.”

Charles and Oliver immediately reassuring her that it was fine.

“You know, Mabel. I’ve got food in my fridge, you’re welcome to have some.”

“I’m good! Besides, I know you, if I open that door, I’m only gonna see dip.”

“Fair enough.”

With Mabel leaving off in the distance to where the arconia elevators are, from where the two remained  sat on the couch, Oliver turned towards him, genuineness and desperation in his tone.

“Kill me, Charles.”

“ Tell her.”

“I’d rather die.”

“Well, you probably will if you don’t eat something!” He grumbled exasperatedly, to which Oliver glared at him once again for. Charles took this as his chance to keep talking.

“Fine, if you’re not going to listen to me, at least have a sip of this.” As he handed over his bottle of water to him. “You look like you’re gonna throw up.”

“Can’t do that if I don’t eat anything.” He retorted, taking a small sip from the water and grimacing. The two continued to bicker back and fourth for a few minutes, arguing with each other, which was something they’d seemed to be doing a lot lately.

They continued this, up until they heard the sound of footprints returning, and the pair had to act as if they weren’t just bickering like children.

Pretending to act natural, Charles and Oliver flashed Mabel a smile, the girl inquisition flashing a quick one back as she struggled to close the apartments door. Her hands were absolutely full with an array of whatever food she was carrying. Finally giving up, she just used the back of her foot to click it closed.

As she approached the three, they glanced at whatever she was holding in her arms. What was it? They really couldn’t tell, partially due to the fact that most of it was wrapped in silver tinfoil. One thing they did however know, was the familiar round plastic containers. Dips, no doubt.

She’d actually brought a lot of food with her, almost like she was prepared for them to do something like this. The last thing they could make out her carrying was a few packets of crisps.

“Enough snacks?” She questioned, sarcastically.

“Definitely enough.” Charles chuckled lightly, reaching forward and helping Mabel carefully place it on the table, knowing if she’d tried to put it down on her own, something definitely would’ve spilled.

“So what’s with the tinfoil?” Oliver questioned, pointing at the three wrapped objects.

“Oh, right! Yeah, when I went out yesterday to get the ingredients for cooking, I picked us up some sandwiches. I was meant to bring them out during the movie last night, but I guess I got too sidetracked making soup to remember.” 

A look of realisation appeared on Mabels face. “Actually, me and charles never tried it. Think we should heat some up? You seemed to like it, Oliver.” She hummed, already thinking of tonights dinner plans.

“No!” The other two both called out promptly. Realising that sounded bad, Charles quickly re-worded his outburst.

“No, Mabel It’s fine! Honestly, this’ll be enough. Thanks for the offer, though!” 

God, that was close.

As the podcast began to play, the three quickly found themselves getting invested in the plot. It wasn’t anything extraordinary, or as good as All is Not OK in Oklahoma, but the three sort of had a hatred for that one after the whole Cinda Canning fiasco. 

Oliver had pulled out a notebook, Charles was leaning over it, telling him other things to write down and Mabel was zoning the two of theirs whispers out while she tried to put her full focus on the podcast.

Every so often Charles would lean forward for a chip and dip it, Mabel grimacing at the action. Oliver thought he was being clever by continuously writing, that way he wouldn’t need to eat anything. Anything else anyway, he’d already had a few bites of that tuna sandwich.

Usually? He’d love it, and he could eat anything. But God he basically felt full from those three bites. If it hadn’t been tuna he was sure he could’ve managed it, he just couldn’t.

He could practically feel Charles sympathetic glare, boring right into his head.

As the podcast went onto some break to talk about a sponsorship, he glanced over at Mabel who was being quiet.

“You should have some dip, Mabel!” He suggested, breaking the silence in the room.

“I’d rather die, actually.” She paused for a moment, as if she’d noticed something. “You not hungry, Oliver? You’ve touched fuck all.” She hummed in observation.

“Hm? Oh- Don’t you worry about me, Mabel. I’m just not hungry.” 

Seeing how she didn’t look entirely convinced, he made an attempt at changing the subject in an effort to distract her.

“ Though , you really should try some dip. Growing kids your age always need to try new things, and what not.”

“I’m Thirty years old.” The distraction worked.

Scratch that.

The distraction would have would have worked, if it wasn’t for his stomach growling loudly literally two seconds later.

“So you’re still not hungry?”

… “Fine, maybe a bit.”

Now noticing that the two were staring at him expectantly, likely expecting him to take a bite of the half-eaten sandwich sat infront of him. He internally groaned as he mustered up the strength to not punch Charles in the arm, who was sat there flashing him a sympathetic look which could only be read as, ‘ I believe in you.’

Practically feeling his hand twitch as he reached for the disgusting thing, he brought the sandwich upto his mouth and took a bite.

-

As the other two grew more immersed in the podcast, they went deadly silent, not uttering a word as they followed along with what the narrator said. Oliver couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably, moving his hand over his stomach lightly with a grimace.

A sharp stabbing pain hit him, making him groan quietly under his breath.

The others didn’t seem to notice.

It had been fourty minutes, and each minute since finishing the food, had been growing into a living Hell.

He really tried to pay attention, desperately ignoring the beats of sweat he could feel running down the side of his face. Ignoring the nausea that was growing by the minute.

As he wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand, he blinked as he tried to ignore how his hand was practically shining from the dampness.

Oh, he knew he’d fucked up by eating. He should’ve shot down the idea the second the other’s suggested it. He really didn’t feel good.

Knowing that the inevitable was coming, he quietly pushed himself up, staggering to his feet. He stumbled slightly as he walked a few steps to the side, resting his hand on the side of the couch to hold him upright.

God, his head was spinning.  

He barely noticed the sound of the other two getting excited as the killer was beginning to be revealed, how the other two were standing excitedly, chanting their own personal predictions.

He opened his mouth, about to yell a warning.

And then it happened.

He only had enough time to spin around before projectile vomiting all over the floor.

The sudden sound an action catching the other’s off guard, Charles swearing sharply, and taking two steps back on impulse. The two shooting him an insanely concerned stare.

“Woah! What the fuck?!” Mabel cried out, alarmed from the suddenness of it all.

Oliver continued to retch, his eyes squinted shut as he continued using the back of the couch as support, knowing without it he wouldn’t have been standing.

“ Shit- I- Charles, get an ice pack or something. And hurry. ” Even with the seriousness of it all, Charles could only think how this felt familiar.

Oliver only groaned as he spat pathetically on the floor, far too late now to even bother thinking if that was gross.

He felt a hand on his back, rubbing comforting circles into it.

A moment later, a wet flannel draped across his neck. And wow , that felt like heaven, and he found himself leaning into it on accident.

Charles breaking the silence muttered out, “Well, that was one way to react to the murder.”

“ Guhh… Christ.”

“Are you okay?” Mabel asked, sliding her hand onto Oliver’s forehead as the man continued staying leaned over and retching.

“Holy shit, you’re burning.”

Charles only sighed, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed. “Can we tell her now?”

And wow, he felt the way Mabel immediately removed her hand from his back, stepping back.

“Wait, tell me what?”

“Oliver’s-”

“ Always hated when podcasts talk about gore. Sorry, should’ve mentioned earlier.” Still gagging slightly from the taste still in his mouth.

That was the wrong answer apparently.

“Okay, can someone tell me what the fuck is going on? And quit the bullshit, if either of you lie to me again I’m leaving.”

“Oliver’s sick-”

Cutting Charles off before he said what he didn’t want to be said, he hurried in. “-But It’s just a bug! I felt bad this morning and I thought It’d pass. I didn’t want to eat anything incase, seems I was right.”

Sensing the two about to have a proper talk, Charles excused himself, “I’ll go get a mop.” The display of whatever the fuck he’d eaten splattered across the living room floor wasn’t exactly a pretty sight.

“I do not feel good.”

“Yeah, I fuckin’ bet. You should’ve told us sooner.”

 Frowning at him. Who was now no longer arched over like a sick cat, instead standing up with his hand on his stomach,  warningly. 

“It only started today, I thought it’d pass.”

“How did this happen, though? You seemed perfectly fine yesterday? You only felt bad this morning?” 

Realising she had that mystery-solving look on her face, he attempted at another side-tracking. Muttering something about feeling tired the whole week. Mabel saw through it.

“No, but- Everything was fine last night, we were hanging out watching movies and you were eating soup and-”

Oh boy.

“Shit, was- Oliver, did I fucking poison you?!”

Charles returned just in time to ask, “Oh, did you tell her?”

Oliver only facepalmed, “No, she just figured it out.”

“Wait, Charles- You knew about this too?”

“Ah, Mabel I’m sorry-”

“So, what? You two were just gonna sit here and pretend everything was fine?” Mabel changed from looking at Charles back to him. “And you told Charles before me?”

“In defense, he kind of forced me to confess it.”

“I did do that, yeah.”

“I just-” Taking a moment to swallow, grimacing slightly, he continued. “I didn’t want you to feel bad. It was your first time cooking- And you made it for us and you seemed so excited about it.”

“Yeah, and I caused this. ” Gesturing to him, and the mess on the floor.

“No! … Yeah, but- Genuinely, it tasted really good.”

“So that’s why you’re throwing up, because It’s fun?”

He could only sigh. “I didn’t know until I woke up that something was wrong.”

He thought for a moment. “You know, it could even be something else.”

Charles cut in. “No, it was definitely the food.”

“You’re not helping here , Charles.”

Mabel was still frowning, and God he hated the fact he could see her definitely blink away something that was no doubt tears. 

“The point is here, I loved your cooking and it tasted good. Sure the chicken might’ve been more alive than dead, but that’s a part of the learning experience!”

“That’s really not a good lesson, Oliver.”

“ Still - Just keep cooking, okay? I am absolutely down to be your taste tester in the future. But right now? I’m about ninety percent convinced I’m about to pass out, so I’m just gonna sit down for a minute-”

At that last part, Charles and Mabel both help guided their friend to the couch where he sighed.

“What a day, huh?”

Mabel was really silent, he realised he should probably say something else.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m upset that you didn’t tell me about it from the start and both of you hid it from me but I’m sorry too, sorry for making you sick.”

“Well, I’m feeling less shitty after that. How about I clean this up, and then we all go out and do something?”

“Oliver, the only thing you’re gonna be doing is getting the fuck in that bed.”

“Fair enough.” 

-

And that’s how the three besties ended up where they are now.

After everything that happened, Mabel had practically forced him into his bedroom, insisting that her and Charles would take care of everything.

And for the first time since waking up that day, Oliver began to feel himself actually relax.

The floor was clean, the soup immediately poured away and the contained chucked into the nearest bin. That, alongside with Charles untouched omelettes, everything was finally done.

And now, as the three had no worries, Adjusting the ice pack on his head, Oliver grinned as he sat on his bed, the equivalent of a pillow fort surrounding it. He flashed the two a smile as they walked in, joining him on it. Mabel and Charles both leaning into him as the three began to enjoy a new podcast.

With the episode signing off and the beginning of the next starting to play, he couldn’t help but be happy as he told the others, closing his eyes. “Y’know, there’s really no other way I’d have spent today. Even if you two did force me to stay here.”

“Yeah, yeah. We love you too.”