Chapter Fourteen: Selling The Drama

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Degrassi.

A/N: Some mature langague in this chapter, just to let you know.

Dylan pushed through the automatic sliding doors with more force than The Hulk on a bad day. He hadn't brushed his teeth, poked the sand from his eyes, changed out of pajama bottoms, he wasn't entirely positive that his car was positive. Unconsiously, he'd transformed into father mode. It was just like an instant action that he had no control over. The hospital waiting room was packed. Frantically, he darted his eyes around, his breath heavy, he kept on a look out for Martie or anyone he recognized. Sitting nervously, with a folded baby blanket over her arms, her knees jittering and her eyes red like she was stoned, Martie was between a middle aged woman with what looked like a fractured arm and a little red headed girl with the chicken pox and a wild cough.

"Martie!" He called in one breath and immeaditly she was out of her seat and he wandered over to her.

"Dylan, i'm sorry, i'm sorry." She whimpered into his chest, as he held her head against him. He tried to shush her but, he wanted information at the same time.

"What the hell's going on?" He let her go and searched her expression for answers. He took notice that she was wearing a Dairy Queen uniform, her visor sitting on the seat along with the baby blanket she'd been clutching onto.

"My sister called me at work, she was baby sitting and she said that it sounded like Oliver was choking in his crib and he was short of breath. So, I just rushed him over here and they took him away. They won't let me go in, I don't know what's going on. Oh, Dylan, what's going on?" She was so out of it, nothing was making sense. The tempo of her speech was rushed and she was starting to hyperventilate.

"We just got to wait here." Dylan held her hands and sat her down and then found a spare seat in the chair behind hers. Martie took to watching the chicken pox infested girl next to her color in a hospital coloring book to help keep her mind off the event of the night. Dylan leaned foreword and held his face in his hands. Pulling his eyes open, still buried in his palms, he noticed through the crack between his fingers that he hadn't bothered to put a shirt on. He had only grabbed his fall jacket.

"Martie Marvin." A triage nurse dressed in green scrubs surfaced from behind doors and into the waiting room. Martie stood up as if she'd been summoned to duty, Dylan followed her over to the shapely nurse.

"And you are?" The nurse scanned her eyes up at the worrisome Dylan and she spoke with attitude sharp in her voice.

"Dylan Michaelchuk." He introduced himself firmly. "Oliver's dad."

Martie was a little taken back. She'd never heard him refer to himself as "Oliver's dad".

"Alright, follow me, please." The nurse turned to lead them when their was a booming interupption in the waiting room.

"Hey!" A grumpy man, unshaved, sun burnt, who reeked of Jagmiester, stood up and wobbled, shouting at all three of them. "I've been here for three and half god damn fucking hours, that kid just marched in here. She's been waiting twenty minutes, maybe."

Truthfully, Martie had arrived there forty seven minutes ago and they'd taken Oliver from her almost right after she'd signed in. However, it felt like hours to Martie. She stared at the man with fear in her eyes. She felt bad that he'd have to wait longer but, she really just wanted to flee through those doors and gather her baby boy up in her arms.

"Sir, I'm sorry, you're going to have to wait." The nurse took a step closer and pre-cautioned the man.

"Like hell, that's what I've been doing for hours!" The man was getting ready to cause a scene when Dylan charged over and got so close to the man he could almost taste the liquer in his gut.

"What's more important a sick baby or a drunk?" Dylan spat.

"Hey!" The man shoved Dylan in the shoulders.

"Sit down." Dylan stood his ground as much as he could.

"I'll beat your ass, boy!" The man shoved him once more, Dylan was ready to just leap the man down when a police officer came to pull them both apart. Dylan turned away from the man and officer and headed into the hospital with Martie's hand wrapped inside of his.

The two parents stood with pale faces in the scentless hallway, staring at Oliver through the window in a tiny little plastic baby crib like he'd been put in when he was first brought into this big crazy place they called the world. They waited in silence for the doctor to come and inform them in what was happening. Martie had her palm pressed against the window and watched as she couldn't do anything to help him. She didn't even know what was going on with him. Dylan was frozen still and tried to just make sense of what was happening. He just kept thinking: I'm too young for this. I'm too young for this. Please, let him be okay.

"I love you." Her eyes as thin as paper cuts, Martie spoke to Dylan.

Caught off guard, Dylan shifted his stare down and frowned his brows at her.

"What?"

"I love you." She whispered again. Before she could explain herself or try to understand what she was feeling and even before Dylan could say anything back, the doctor wandered over to them. He was glancing over a paper on top of a clip board and then introduced himself to them with handshakes.

"Martie Marvin?" He checked with Dylan first.

"That's her." He pointed to Martie with his thumb. "I'm Dylan Michaelchuk."

"I'm Dr. Gretton." He let them know, even though they'd read over his name tag. Martie took a seat in one of the plastic chairs to keep herself calm. Dylan only crossed his arms over his chest and prepared himself for the worst. "We've ran some tests, checked Oliver throughly and it's clear that your son has come down with an ammonia." Still worrisome, both Martie and Dylan sighed in relief that it wasn't as bad as they'd imagine. Still, it was serious. "I'll write you guys a prescripton to take to the pharmacy, there's a twenty four hour one on Wilkes Avenue, you can get his pennicilan there. You should both be very happy that you caught this right away."

"What about his breathing?" Martie checked.

"He's very young, four months?"

She just nodded. Dylan still listening very intently.

"Right, he's so young that his symptoms aren't the same as they would be in you or me. Babies signs of illness are usually very different than what ours would be." The doctor checked over his sheet once more. "You come back right away if he gets worse but, we should set up an appointment for next week."

"Thank you, Doctor." Dylan nodded and turned back to stare at Oliver who was being bundled up by a nurse in the other room.

"I'll go write you that prescription." The doctor paced down the hallway away from them both.

"Oh," Martie stretched her arms out like a feline would and wandered close to the glass window again. "Thank God he's going to be okay." She simply said in a whisper.

"Yeah." Dylan agreed.

"Dylan?" She stared up at him with those big brown eyes he used to spend his nights looking inside.

"I'm going to go settle the whole health insurance thing. I'll meet you in the parking lot." He wandered away from her and into the busy waiting area. Martie stood helpless and feeling as young as she was.

"He's asleep. He took his medicine." Dylan placed a baby moniter on Martie's night stand, as she sat on the edge of her unmade bed.

"Thanks." She swallowed. "I made you some tea." She nodded to the vainty mirror next to him where a coffee mug with steam rising out of the top sat. She was holding an identical mug in her hands.

"Cool. Thank you." He took it in his hands and then sat down next to her.

"I don't know what I would've done without you tonight." She let him know. Their shoulders leaned against one another's as they spoke withotu looking at each other. "You were great."

"I think you would've been fine, Martie. You're stronger than you realize."

She stared down at her drink and closed her eyes tightly. For just a moment, she needed to rest. Rising back on her feet, she walked away from the bed and stared through the vainty mirror. She rested her mug down and then grabbed the edges of the vainty for support.

"I know that I should just be grateful that he's okay." She sighed. "But, what if it was worse? God, Dylan, I don't know what I would've done if he wasn't alright." She turned around and he pulled her into his chest, since he was now standing behind her.

"He's fine, though. Just concentrate on that. He's nothing going anywhere."

Before she knew it, she was in tears. They treaded down her cheeks like little party streamers, her mascara mixed in.

"Man, I'm such a girl!" She tried laughing. She pulled her Dairy Queen shirt over her head and stood in front of him in her bra and black pants.

"You said you love me." Dylan teased her with a grin.

"I was scared. I thought our son was going to die." She excused herself. She pulled a pajama tee shirt from the top drawer. "Could you unbuckle me?" She asked, staring at them both through the mirror.

"Sure." Dylan reached his hands foreward and just like old times he unhooked her bra. She was covering her chest with the pajama top. He wrapped his arms around her, they folded over her tee shirt covered chest. He smiled at them both in the mirror and then looked at her through it. "I love you, too." He let her know. Hearing those words pulled a smile over her face.

Meanwhile, Marco had gotten an urgent text message from Miss Paige Michaelchuk who figured he needed to be informed about the situation at hand. He had taken the bus to the hospital but, when he found out that they had already left, he figured he should go over to Martie's to make sure she and Oliver were both safe and okay. When nobody answered, he had let himself into their apartment. His worry for Oliver had transformed and tangled into worry for his and Dylan's relationship when he feasted his teenage eyes on the sight going on in front of the mirror in Martie's bedroom.

Martie was ecstatic to hear Dylan return her feelings. She knew how he meant though. They were good friends, they had a baby together, it was nothing more than that. Dylan was completely wrapped in Marco and Martie was getting her kicks by watching Ryan Phillipe through VHS rentals. Still, Marco didn't understand. He'd walked in on the worst time. Martie pulled the top over her head and then searched for her sweats on the floor.

"Oh, Hey Marco." She smiled, as her eyes glanced over him. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Hey!" Though he was exhausted, a little extra Marco intake was just what Dylan needed at the moment. He wandered over to pull Marco in for a kiss when Marco backed up.

"I better get going. I have to catch a bus." Marco wandered away at a quick pace to get out of Martie's apartment as fast as he could. He didn't want to stick around because he knew he'd only cry and he didn't want to appear vulnerable in front of Dylan.

"Let me drive you, I was about to take off anyways." Dylan followed Marco into the hallway.He didn't understand the rush.

"Yeah, take off Martie's pants, maybe." Marco retorted.

"What?" Dylan squinted and jumped in front of Marco to stop his path. "Marco, talk to me."

"I heard what you said to her. I saw you, too. You love her, fine. Go back to her. I can't believe you'd mess with me that way." Marco was beyond hurt. His insides were twisted and curling around inside. He just wanted to throw up, he could almost feel it rising in his throat.

"What are you talking about? I don't know what you heard or saw."

"Shut up!" An old lady with pink curlers in her thin salt and pepper hair and a floral night robe on complained, as she stepped out of her apartment. Marco and Dylan didn't realize how much noise they were making.

"Go back to bed, Mrs. Dobrechowski. I'm sorry." Dylan called back withotu looking at his old neighbor. "Marco, come inside, let's talk." Dylan grabbed Marco's wrist and hissed in a whisper.

"No." Marco pulled his hand away and clikced on the button for the elevator. As if on cue, the doors parted and he stepped inside. Dylan followed in right behind him. "Get out!" Marco yelled.

"No." As soon as the doors closed, Dylan pushd his finger against the emergency stop button in the elevator. The elevator froze in a second.

"What are you doing?"

"You tell me. What are you so worked up about?" Dylan held both sides of his pelvis and asked with a serious expression frozen on his face.

"You told Martie you love her and everyone knows she loves you. Dylan, come on, I thought - I thought you were with me. I thought you were gay." The whole scenario made a total of zero sense to Marco. he tried to comprehend it in his brain but, he couldn't.

"I am with you, I am gay. Martie's my best friend in the entire world, she knows me better than anybody, she's always had my back, hell, she has my child. That's what I meant when I told her I love her. I love her like I love Paige, she's like another sister to me. That's all."

All at once, Marco felt like quite the drama queen. He was embarressed and his blushing cheeks showed it. He folded his head down and stared at the dusty floor of the elevator.

"So, maybe, you should apologize?" Dylan coaxed his boyfriend.

"To Mrs. Dobrechowski?"

Dylan had to laugh.

"Yeah, for starter's." He shook his head and then folded his arms out and open. "Come here." He wrapped Dylan in a hug and before turning the elevator back on, they kissed.

I hope this was an okay chapter. I wasn't going to take it in a certain direction but then I followed my instincts which usually aren't as great as I wish they were. Please, let me know what you think! I've got some more stuff planned.

Thanks.

Selling The Drama - LIVE