Spilling Guts

Part 61 - Friday Nights

A quick text to Jacob for lunch tomorrow, and Will crashed into bed early. He had forgone a proper dinner in favor weak tea and a few crackers; his stomach still churned. Perhaps he had eaten one too many sweet potatoes croquets.

Or I'm sick, like Rachel warned me about. Hopefully not.

Will's head sunk into the pillow; soft, comforting, warm, non-judgmental.

Damn. I forgot to tell Rachel about my episodes...

I'll talk to her Monday, if they're still happening, thought Will. He took two tabs of melatonin with his tea. A weekend of less stress and proper sleep might help.

And Monday I have to swallow down Louis.

Should he be relieved that part of his job had gone back to normal, as normal as regular ingestion of his partner could be, or frustrated that he and Louis were being thrust back into tests if they were comfortable with it or not.

Should he be worried that he missed test days?

Sleep silently drew the covers over his head.

***

Fridays were supposed to be days of freedom. Good bye work, hello weekend.

But freedom only happened if one was allowed to leave work.

Cetz was the Head of Watch Two. Effectively the Boss. Megan even had him listed in her phone as BOSSMan, to his annoyance. He should be able to leave whenever he damned well pleased.

But he was also his own boss, who knew he still had stuff to do. Especially if Rachel refused to leave before the day was done. So at work he stayed, his own prisoner.

The arguments, conversations, and constant concessions through the day had left Cetz off kilter. He didn't want to drag the folding cot out of the closet and call it a day, but it was a close call. Instead he took a short walk around Watch Two as it wound down from the day crew. Grant lay in his office, heart monitor steady. Someone had put a tray of electrolyte drinks and water by the cot when he surfaced briefly from his recharging sleep.

A post-it clung to Balcuwitz's office plaque. "the Doctor is resting". Specifically on his leather couch, which Cetz envied.

Main Tech was empty.

Was that glitter on the floor near Will's desk?

Nope. Don't need to know. That's a custodial problem. I have plenty of my own.

The current and most pressing problem was his empty stomach.

His headset chimed. Rachel was back. Cetz returned to his office and set out napkins.

Due to the long day, and that Rachel and Cetz had missed lunch, Rachel had gone out to fetch a late dinner for them both. The moment she stepped through his door, he could smell the disappointment.

It was not Asian cuisine. No delicious MSG. No soy packets or wasabi or chili oil. No chopsticks. Rachel hauled in a greasy bag of burgers and fries from a drive through. And two cans of store brand cola. Caffeine free.

Cetz knew punishment when he saw it. And he probably deserved it. "You're angry with me."

"Yes," said Rachel, overly chipper. The grease fumes from the bag slicked the air, salty and full of fat. "But I'm also angry at anything in Styrofoam. This is cardboard and aluminum."

Cetz huffed, amused as he helped her divvy up the two burgers and the pile of fries on the coffee table. "Has your experience with recycling put you on Will's side?"