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"What are you doing up?" Fenris asked as he limped rather pathetically into the dark kitchen and flipped on the light over the oven. "Shouldn't you be sleeping in? We don't work today."
Anders was on the couch with his laptop and a cat-shaped mug of coffee. "I know," he said. "I'm talking to a friend online in a different timezone."
"You have friends?"
"As a matter of fact, yes I do. His name is Justice. Well, that's his screen name, at least. He's interesting to talk to." Anders took a sip from the mug and then set it down on a nearby coffee table. "What are you doing up?"
Fenris grunted something and poured himself a glass of water before fumbling around in the medicine cabinet.
Anders narrowed his eyes, not happy with his roommate's unenthusiastic response. "Are you sick?"
"No."
"'No', but you're taking a million ibuprofens. You know you can only have up to four of those at one time, right? I don't want to have to drag you to the ER later." Anders shut his laptop, stood up, and walked over to where Fenris was leaning against the counter as he took some pills. "You look awful," Anders said. "I mean, more so than usual."
"I'm fine," Fenris mumbled.
"At least check your temperature," said Anders. He was now the one doing the rummaging in the medicine cabinet before pulling out a digital thermometer. "Here, put this under your tongue." He tried to manipulate it towards Fenris' mouth.
"I told you I'm fine," Fenris said, dodging the thermometer.
"You are not fine," Anders replied. "Now would you just let me..."
"Ugh. If it will get you to stop bothering me." Fenris snatched the thermometer from Anders' grasp and put it under his tongue. Then the two stood in silence until the thermometer beeped and Anders took it and read the digital display.
"Maker's breath," said Anders. "You've got a killer fever. How are you feeling?"
"Obviously I'm feeling fantastic. That's why I took all those painkillers."
"I mean what sort of symptoms are you having, you dolt."
Fenris looked away, a bit embarrassed. "Well, I didn't keep last night's dinner down, if that's what you're asking."
"And stomach pain?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Diarrhea?"
Fenris shot him a look that said he definitely no longer wanted to talk about this, but Anders had all he needed. "Gastroenteritis, it sounds like," he said. "Probably viral. It'll go away in a week. Drink lots of water. And eat popsicles. I think we've got popsicles." He opened the freezer to look. "Mmm... yep."
"What makes you a doctor all of a sudden?" Fenris asked.
"Three years of pre-med," replied Anders, and Fenris quirked an eyebrow at this information. Anders pulled a popsicle from the freezer and handed it to Fenris.
Fenris took it without complaining. "You know," he said thoughtfully as he unwrapped it, "Pre-med still doesn't make you a doctor. Medical school does."
Anders sighed. "I know," he said.
"You never went, did you?" His tone of voice was genuinely curious rather than accusatory.
"I couldn't decide what I wanted to do, exactly," said Anders. "I kind of wanted to be a nurse, but I kind of wanted to be a veterinarian, but I kind of wanted to specialize in something. Pediatrics, or something. I don't know. I figured I'd take some time off and figure it out. Then I never figured it out." He shrugged, then changed the subject. "What about you? Did you go to school?"
"I did."
"In what?"
Fenris took a bite of popsicle. "I have a Masters in physics."
"You what?" Anders did a double take. "You have a Masters in physics and you're working at Target?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Fenris slowly took another bite. "I might tell you later," he said.
"Might?"
"Might." Fenris finished his popsicle and tossed the wrapper in the trash. "I'm going back to bed," he said.
"Bring water with you," said Anders.
"No." Fenris turned and headed down the hall.
"You'll get dehydrated!" Anders called after him, but got no response as Fenris shut himself in his room. "Augh... Andraste's knicker weasels," Anders muttered, and he prepared a glass of water and ran off after Fenris.