A/N: What's up, guys?! Been a while...so here's a little Leandros fic.

"What's wrong with you?"

"I'm starving."

That was how it started.

Ten minutes of Niko methodically searching the kitchen like he was solving the case of the missing Twinkies. Ten minutes of interrupting my diligent viewing of a Baywatch rerun and bitching under his breath about tolerating a kid brother who devoured everything in sight and then some.

"Nik?" I pushed up on an elbow and peeked over the back of the couch. "You know your wheatgrass powder and dried fruit leather crap are still in there. Cockroaches would rule the world before I devoured those."

"No," Niko shook his head, something resembling distress pinching his narrow features. "You don't understand. I am starving."

The emphasis on "starving" sent my eyebrows shooting up a notch or two.

"I need something substantial. Carbohydrates." Niko continued, gesturing back to our barren fridge.

"Finally admitting weeds and tofu are unfit for human consumption, huh?" I grinned and slumped back on the couch, oblivious to how weird he was acting. I just assumed he meant complex carbohydrates. Shit like brown rice or oatmeal. You know, horse food.

"Get your feet off the table," Niko instructed. "And put on some clothes."

"How come?" I whined petulantly. I was comfy and sleepy and didn't feel like getting dressed. Even Batman deserved a day off.

"We're going out for breakfast."

That got my attention.

"Really?" I sputtered in surprise. "You're not dragging me to that juice place, okay? 'Cause I wasn't planning to put on pants this morning. But it's a hippy joint, right? Do they even require their customers to wear pants? Or is it like a no pants no juice policy?"

"No."

"No to the juice or the pants?"

"Cal."

"Well," I challenged. "Where then?"

It was pretty clear Niko wasn't in the mood for witty repartee.

"I thought perhaps IHOP. It's close, convenient, and they concoct a passable glass of orange juice so the morning would not be a total loss."

I glared suspiciously at my brother. "Okay, Nik, what gives? It's not my birthday. And even if it was you wouldn't voluntarily load me up with saturated fat and refined sugar this early in the morning." Or any other time of day.

I quickly sorted through a list of possibilities in my head. Not my birthday. I wasn't dying. Niko wasn't dying. World wasn't ending…just yet. So…what the fuck?

"Cal, I'm not in the mood," Nik stated the obvious. "So either explain why you ate the last helping of cereal and neglected to buy more yesterday or get your ass off that couch." Niko huffed an exasperated breath of air in my direction as he pulled on a fresh t-shirt. "Unless you would prefer to waste away on the couch. In which case feel free to do as you please."

Damn. He wasn't joking around.

"No, no," I tumbled off the cushions and hurried to hunt down my jeans. "I'm coming."

I hopped back into the living room, one leg in and the other I tugged at viciously. Niko paced, arms crossed, and drummed his fingers on his bicep in what had to be the most impatient gesture I'd ever seen on display from my normally stoic brother.

"Any day, Cal."

"Jesus," I griped, still torn between my desire to remain in a cozy, pants-less cocoon and my lust for greasy, syrupy, diabetes-inducing breakfast foods. "What crawled up your ass this morning? I even did my laundry last night."

He stopped pacing, cheeks darkening with an uncharacteristic hint of color.

"Nothing," he replied after a moment, sighing heavily. "You didn't do anything. I suppose I'm sleep-deprived. Not that sleep deprivation should be an excuse for losing my temper."

I frowned. He was kind of freaking me out. I pulled on my own t-shirt and walked over to rest a solid hand on his shoulder.

"Okay. Let's get you some food, Cyrano."

The air outside was humid and clogged with so many scents I couldn't tell where putrid rot left off and car exhaust began. But that was good 'ole New York for you.

It was still early and the vendors were setting up shop for the day. The smell of roasting meat wafted over the wind and despite mingling with the air pollution, my mouth watered in anticipation.

The restaurant was packed full. Not the sort of place we would normally choose but Niko was pretty adamant. Adding that to the list of weird.

I watched in awe as he devoured two plates of pancakes plus a side-order of bacon and sausage. He didn't even pause to gag. My might-as-well-be-vegan brother was gulping down processed meat like it was going out of style and all I could do was gape with a poised, dripping fork - I'd barely taken two bites of my own grease-laden breakfast.

Something was off. Niko was acting stranger than weird.

As my brother inhaled another forkful of carbs my mind traveled back to the previous night, when a witch had cast an indecipherable spell just before we'd incinerated her wrinkly ass. There had been something malevolent in her eyes as she disappeared, devoured by my flamethrower. And she had been pointing at Nik.

"Cal," Niko suddenly stopped chewing, mouth full of masticated pancake that he seemed to be struggling to swallow. "I think…something's wrong."

I realized my fork was still dangling mid-air and let it clatter onto the plate.

"Thank you!" I exclaimed, tossing my hands up. "What the hell is with you this morning? You do realize you've almost eaten an entire pig, right?"

Niko glanced down at his nearly empty plate, then at the untouched glass of orange juice sitting beside it. A look of profound disgust contorted his features, as if he'd only just registered what he'd been practically inhaling for the past fifteen minutes. He swallowed thickly, looking nauseous.

"I hadn't realized."

I stared at him, completely bewildered.

"Okay, Nik," I leaned forward, sort of whispering even though there wasn't really a reason to, "you're freaking me out."

"I'm freaking myself out," Niko admitted, looking sheepish at mimicking one of my "slang" words. "I was even tempted to visit that hotdog stand you love so much. That's how hungry I was."

My mouth dropped open. Something was definitely wrong.

Niko winced. He curled over the table, placing a hand on his stomach. His olive skin had suddenly turned worryingly gray. His throat began working in a convulsive rhythm as he pushed the plate away.

"Nik?" I questioned cautiously, holding out my hand as I watched my brother rise to his feet and…oh shit…

Niko's eyes suddenly widened with panic. He slapped a hand over his mouth as he spun and strode for the bathroom.

I didn't want to follow him but I couldn't help myself. My legs picked up speed of their own accord. I had to make sure he was okay.

Niko was anything but okay.

I watched, sufficiently horrified as he squatted in front of the toilet, trying to touch as little of the public space as possible. The hand over his mouth flew down to brace against the wall as he gave in to the urge, indulging in a full-bodied heave.

The result was so disturbing I had to turn away, just linger in the doorway like a creeper while my brother made sounds nobody – let alone Niko – should ever make.

The violent retching briefly relented and I chanced a peek. Long strands of blond hair clung untidily to Niko's sweaty face as he hovered over the toilet, panting and swallowing.

"Fuck, Nik. You okay?" I asked lamely. Of course he wasn't. And the withering look he threw my direction made me want to crawl under a rock.

"Shut the door," he gagged into the bowl. I wanted to. I wanted to really fucking bad. And not just because the sight of Niko vomiting up his ever-loving soul threatened to haunt me for the rest of eternity – I was having a rough time dealing with the smell.

The sour stench was hitting me like a whack to the noggin with a sledgehammer. I gagged in my mouth, close to losing it. I put my hand over my nose and started to obey him.

But then something awful happened. Niko rubbed his damp forehead on the arm he had braced against the wall and moaned. It was a miserable, alien sound that struck me like a bolt of lightening and left me momentarily paralyzed.

Niko never got sick. The only time that stuck out in my brain was when he'd contracted pneumonia. I'd been five years old. I'd gladly stolen medicine for him, then. I didn't know what the fuck to do now.

But I couldn't leave him alone while he was suffering like this. What kind of a brother would I be if I abandoned Nik on a questionable bathroom floor, struggling to stay upright while he endured the consequences of…whatever the hell this was?

I really shitty one – that's what kind.

Niko pulled up further, gathering his braid out of the way with his free hand, swallowing desperately as he braced for round two.

I decided if I was sticking around I might as well make myself useful. I stepped outside, snagged a to-go cup, filled it with water and returned to crouch behind my brother. I placed a steadying hand against his back as Niko lurched forward. I thought I'd find his liver floating in there when I finally leaned over him to flush.

It was like he'd gone on a three-day bender.

Niko slumped, releasing a breathy burp towards the water. He brought up a smaller mouthful and coughed, panting raggedly over the bowl.

"Jesus," I breathed as my own queasiness intensified. "What the fuck's going on?"

Niko couldn't answer. A shudder rippled down his spine as a belching gag forced up a thicker torrent of pre-digested breakfast. The mess sloshed into the bowl with so much projectile force I was scared he wouldn't be able to breathe for fear of choking.

"I'm calling Goodfellow," I said, pulling out my cell and dialing the puck's number.

Niko didn't protest.

The puck's groggy voice slurred to life on the other line, "You'd better have a damn good reason for calling me. I'm in the middle of -"

"Stop," I begged. "I don't wanna know. I just need to ask if you've ever heard of someone being cursed with…um," I paused, not entirely sure how to explain our dilemma, "-food?"

"Is this your idea of an ill-conceived joke? This is why you dragged me from the throes of lovemaking?"

"Goodfellow, shut up. I'm being serious. We need to know if you've heard of anything like this before."

I proceeded to explain the situation in panicky detail, including what had happened the night before. He asked me to repeat the witch's last words. I totally butchered them but Niko snatched the phone and supplied the missing pieces through aborted gags.

He listened for a bit, brows lowering into an angry furrow, then he dropped his head in his hands and I took the phone back. Goodfellow was in hysterics on the other end, guffawing like a madman and seemingly unable to catch his breath, even to explain what was so goddamn hilarious.

I gave up and ended the call.

"What'd he say?"

"Supernatural parasite," Niko groaned, pushing away from the toilet. "They're rarely dangerous."

"Like…she gave you a worm?" I gulped in disbelief.

Niko swayed to his feet, wiping at his mouth, "Yes. I suppose that explains the strange cravings."

"So, how do we kill it?"

"We're going to drag Robin out of his orgy and find out."

I nodded, pressing a fist to my mouth as Niko re-braided his hair. My heightened sense of smell was kicking my ass and I could feel those bites of french toast persistently worming their way back up my throat.

"You done for now?" I asked from behind my hand.

Niko looked shaky but resolved, reaching down to take a sip of the water I'd brought him.

"I'll simply ignore the hunger pangs until we've talked to Goodfellow," he reasoned.

"Good," I gave up the fight, retching weakly into my palm. "Gimme a second."

I spun around for the sink, gripped the stained porcelain and immediately threw up my own breakfast.

Niko waited patiently, gathering my hair out of my face as I emptied myself out.

"Sorry," I gagged. "The smell…"

"Right," Niko rubbed my shoulder, looking marginally guilty.

This morning had been nothing short of absurd, and I was ready for it to be fucking over.