Oh man. As a twisted tribute to the last chapter I have been violently ill and busy this past week. On a different note, I am fully aware that Twilight belongs to S. Meyer and so do all her characters... but. When I see a Quil/Claire story with the same other characters names, same setting, same attitude, same sequence of events... I dunno. Can't you guys be a little more creative? I'm not saying that this is all mine and nobody can touch any of it, but at least try to mix up the elements a bit. End rant.

I know I totally promised a super-long chapter, but alas. I am tired and you'll get another one tomorrow (if you're good). Happy readings!

-kiddo

Quil flopped down on the couch, feeling slightly ill himself. Not from the eggs, though. From being so close and not being able to...

"I never thought I'd see the day that Claire was too sick to insult me." Embry plopped down on the other side, a mixing bowl full of cereal in his arms.

"Neither did I." Quil grimaced and stripped his shirt over his head, tossing it in the direction of the laundry room.

"Don't count your chickens before they're born."

"Embry?"

"Yes?"

"Where do you come up with these things?" Quil asked, slightly offending his friend.

"You know, old sayings and whatnot. I found them in a book."

"I can only imagine." Quil rubbed his hands over his face, exhausted.

"Did you get her settled in to her room?" Embry shoveled down his cereal. If it got soggy the marshmallows would turn the milk colors.

"Yeah. Well, sorta. I put her in my room."

"What? Why?" Embry raised a quirky eyebrow.

"Closer. Just in case she needs something." Quil himself wondered why had he put Claire in his bed and not her own.

"Your rooms are like... three feet apart."

Quil shrugged and dug into the cushions for the remote. "I didn't want to go into her room. It's a privacy thing."

"I guess that makes sense. I mean, it wasn't like you went poking through there every time she left in case she had had some guy over when we weren't home." Embry blinked up at the ceiling, his face smug. "Let's talk about overprotective, huh?"

"Shut up." Quil grumbled, channel surfing. Perhaps he did have a tendency to be a little overprotective... But just a little.

"Quil?" Embry looked down, no longer smug.

"What?"

"I called Sam." He admitted.

Quil choked on his own spit. "You what? Why? I haven't done anything."

"Not to tattle. I was trying to call and see if Emily knew what to do and Sam said she was off getting groceries and then he asked why and I told him that Claire had gotten sick and I didn't know what to do then the whole her being pissy with you thing came up and he'll be here in a few minutes." He ran out of breath, looking sheepish.

"Oh, shit." Quil whispered. "You think he'll be mad?"

"As mad as Sam can get, anyways. It's not like you did anything wrong, though. It's not like you can." Embry munched on a spoonful of little marshmallows he had been eating around.

"Right." Quil nodded and plucked Embry's spoon from him, taking a bit of the untouched side of his cereal before handing the spoon back.

"Hey! Whoa, I know I called his majesty and all but there is no need for that!" Embry dug around his bowl, looking offended.

Quil shook his head, still enjoying the crunching sound Embry's food was making in his mouth.

I opened my eyes, watching the ceiling fan spin in slow, lazy circles. The way it moved never seemed to generate any air flow, just simply waste electricity. The rotating blades clanked every so often, sending tiny tremors through my already tender skull.

"Hey, Claire. How are you feeling?" Seth's head popped through the doorway, staring down at me lying eagle-spread on Quil's bed, trying desperately to cool off.

"Better," I admitted grudgingly. I had taken Quil's room hostage for the past few days, but I was still reluctant to give it back.

"Are you hungry at all yet?"

"Um, yeah. Just give me a minute to get dressed, would you?" I pulled myself up into a sitting position, my head swimming.

"No problem. I'll find someone who knows where the food is in this." Seth banged his head on the door as he tried to escape.

"Seth?" I called, remembering something of vital importance.

"Yeah?" His head reappeared.

"Make sure it's not Embry." I cringed at spending the rest of my precious summer vacation with my head hung in a toilet.

"Will do." His head thumped against the wall again.

"Oh, Seth." I muttered, gingerly climbing out of Quil's bed and stumbling slowly towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. Every step I took caused my migraine to act up and made my stomach roll. By the time I got to the end of the hall I was ready to vomit again.

Thankfully there was nothing left in me to throw up.

The next twenty minutes I spent in the shower were the most euphoric, blissful moments I had ever felt. They chalked right up there with chocolate and being close to Quil.

Well, maybe not as good as being with Quil. Definitely as good as chocolate.

To put on my jeans without falling over I sat on my bed and slid them on one leg at a time, careful not to lean too far over. I zipped up a hooded sweatshirt, not bothering to put a shirt on under it. Honestly, I had my doubts anyone would give a damn if I walked in my birthday suit the way the had been acting lately. Never coming too close, always just poking their heads through the door. It was like they had discovered I had leprosy.

"Claire? Are you ready yet?" A timid voice floated through my closed door.

"One second." I furrowed my eyebrows. Since when had Seth ever been timid? He was the most disruptive, outgoing, obnoxious man I had ever met. And now he was acting like a pansy. Something was afoot. I was willing to bet my life it had to do with my loving uncle.

"You still look like total shit." Seth shot me down the second I stepped out of my room. His eyes took in my damp, stringy hair and the bags under my eyes in rapid succession.

"Thanks," I grumbled, treading gingerly past him. That was more like the Seth I had come to know.

"No, I mean it. How much weight can you lose in three days? You're like a walking skeleton. Not that you were some fat ass to begin with, but I mean-"

"Thank you, Seth." I gritted, checking to make sure the living room was clear before heading into the kitchen. I still didn't know how to act the next time I saw Quil. He was like hot and cold around me. One minute hes kissing me like the guy from the Notebook and the next hes scolding my life choices.

Who knew what was going to happen now that he'd been so nice after I'd blew him off all summer.

"Look who finally found their way out of bed." I met Embry's warm brown eyes and gave him a half-smile, still searching for the pair of coal-black irises I had fallen in love with.

"Where's Quil?" I cocked my head in question, hitching up my jeans and slowly settling down into one of the kitchen chairs.

"Out and about." Embry brushed off my question casually and rifled through the cabinet he kept stocked with cereal. "What do you feel like? Lucky Charms? Raisin Bran? Coco Krispies?"

"Cheerios." I confirmed as Seth sat down opposite of me, his face buried in a newspaper.

"You're no fun." Embry told me, arranging a giant-sized bowl and spoon in front of me.

"I'm still getting over being sick." I scolded, feeling slightly relieved when he stopped to check the expiration date on the milk before pouring it into my bowl.

"Eat up." He ordered, thrusting the spoon into my fist and taking a seat himself.

The little square table felt especially small as I sat with the two werewolves, chomping down at my first meal in days.

"So where is Quil, exactly? You never told me before."

Embry and Seth exchanged knowing glances before Embry turned to me, prepared to tell another lie.

"No bullshit."

"Out, Claire. He needed to go for a run." Seth covered, the newsprint still held in front of his face so I couldn't see his expression.

"Why?" I folded my arms across my chest, prepared to fight to the end.

"Sam told him to."

"And he'll be back soon?" I prodded as the two men carefully avoided my gaze.

"I'm sure he will. Now, eat your cheerios before they get soggy." Embry demanded, ending the conversation.

Yes. Something was most definitely afoot.