"One, two, three, PULL!"

Nick and Jess heaved with all their might, but the struggling Winston refused to detatch himself from his bed. In fetal position, and in his favorite sailboat print onsie, he very much resembled a baby.

"I don't wanna!" he cried, pulling the blankets over his head.

Nick and Jess exchanged looks.

"Winston, you have to go to the doctor," Jess began. "You have a 102 degree fever! If-"

But Jess was interrupted. Schmidt suddenly burst into the room.

"Goddamnit, Winston. I don't need this tomfoolery before I go to work," Schmidt bellowed. "You're causing so much of a ruckus I nearly forgot to apply my aftershave! My pores will not be irritated, Winston! Do you know how unattractive that is?" He straightened out his paisley tie. "Well, wish me luck everyone, I have a meeting today. " And with that, he turned on his heel. On his way out, he tripped on something quite fluffy.

Meow!

"Oh my God! This beast nearly scuffed up my soft leather dress shoes!" Schmidt stumbled backwards out of the door way, and Ferguson followed him. "Stay away from my nipples!" He slammed the front door after his exit.

Nick began to laugh but stopped when Jessica gave him a firm look.

Winston stirred beneath the blankets.

Jess gave Nick a nudge on the shoulder and nodded towards Winston.

"Uh...Winston?" Nick said. "Look buddy, you have to go to the doctor. I mean yeah, it sucks, believe me, I know. Doctors give me the creeps, I mean, why are their hands always so cold? Right? I mean its just so-"

"Nick!" Jess whispered at him. She rolled her big blue eyes and took a deep breath.

"We can get ice cream on the way home, Winston." Jess bribed.

Winston peeked out from under his blanket. A childish grin began to spread across his flushed face.

"Cookies and cream?" Winston said in a voice much higher than usual.

"Yes, Winston, cookies and cream." sighed Jess.

"Can I get ice cream too? I'm more of a rocky road guy, but..."

Nick stopped talking when those big blue eyes of Jess' gave him a glare.

Winston rolled out of his bed, and slipped on his brown (actually brown) sneakers.

Nick scrunched his face up like a turtle.

"I don't want to sound like Schmidt, but shouldn't he change his outfit? Although extremely comfortable, onies aren't that fashionably...acceptable."

"Let's not push it," Jess laughed. "Come on, Winston."

And the three friends piled into Nick's car.