Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

A/N: The world needs more Vesca Howell. Also, he calls Papa D "Dee" because he figures, at this stage, it's actually short for some weird Chinese thing. Written for the fifteen minute ficlets community on LiveJournal; word #33.

Sugar

It happened during a study session; Dee had been snootily examining Vesca's crudely scrawled notes, and then all of a sudden he'd been face down on the table. It would have been funny if it hadn't been Dee, if Vesca wasn't so used to seeing his smug face so pretty and perfect all the time.

As it was, he was lucky he didn't panic. That was the last thing he needed, his professors getting wind that a medical student hadn't been able to keep his head in a crisis.

Hell, it wasn't even a crisis, he told himself firmly. Not a crisis at all. Dee'd probably just pulled an all-nighter, and forgotten to eat breakfast. Allan had done that just the other week; this was nothing to worry about, nothing at all, and there was no reason whatsoever for his heart to be banging away out of control like that, either.

"Dee? Yo, Dee, what's the problem?"

Dee stirred, thank God, thank God, shut up, and his eyes flickered open. When he spoke, his voice held the same smooth, gliding tone it always did - but barely, by the skin of its teeth. Vesca felt his stomach drop several inches in his chest. "...problem, Vesca...?"

That wasn't good, was it? Dee didn't even know what was happening. "Shit, Dee. What the hell's the matter with you...?" He tipped out his satchel all over the table top, looking for his water bottle; water had to be good, right? Everything important enough to be carried with him clattered shamelessly out onto the table; his wallet, his keys, a biro, some condoms, his access card for the computer labs and of course, his lunch, purchased from a convenient vending machine a few hours before they'd hit the library - an egg salad sandwich, a can of coke, his own bottled water and...

...and an empty circle of space where a chocolate cookie used to be. Hm.

Dee's hand was slow as he withdrew the treat, long nails making it difficult to find purchase on the plastic packaging. "Vesca... do you mind...? I..."

Vesca stared as Dee scrabbled helplessly with the packet, trying to get to the cookie within. Low blood sugar. I'll kill him. "Give me that," he exploded angrily, snatching it. Dee stared up at him in something like horror, a whimper escaping his throat as the cookie was torn from his reach.

Vesca shredded the plastic in seconds, and broke the cookie in half, scattering crumbs across the library table. As he grasped the thing, Dee gave him such a rare expression of adoration that he felt himself blushing all the way to his toes. He growled, and clenched his fist, inadvertently crumbling more biscuit onto the carpet.

"Next time you pull a stunt like that, so help me God--"

Dee's sudden expression of disappointment, directed behind him, stopped him in his tracks. Vesca turned to see one of the four nastier librarians, near apoplectic at the noise level and the food he was even now scattering all over the floor.

"Uh..."

"OUT!"

Vesca didn't even think to grab his bag; you didn't, when the librarians started screeching.

Fortunately, Dee joined him outside less than ten minutes later, his bag neatly repacked for him – though Vesca noted then, and at a separate and less appropriate time, that his coke and his condoms were missing.

- - -

A/N: Short, I know, but there's only so much I can do in fifteen minutes. Comments and criticism are welcomed, and appreciated.