AN: Yeah, it took a while. Busy, busy, busy. Excuses found on my blog. On with the story.

"That was amazing!" she exclaimed, as he held the door open for her to pass through.

"You think so?"

"You didn't like it?"

"No, I did. You're just so enthusiastic about it," he teased.

"It was so much better than when I saw it on Broadway, it was the best production I've ever seen."

"It was impressive," he nodded, stopping by her door as she pulled her keys out of her bag. They'd left Janlan outside the theater, heading in separate directions after saying their goodbyes. "And I will agree that it was better here in London. Though that isn't always the case."

"So, shall we count this as a successful weekend?" she smiled, making no move to go into her now open door.

"Only if you plan on letting me come in there with you," he raised his eyebrows and wound his free arm around her waist as she moved backward into her room. His lips met hers and they fumbled into her room with closed eyes toward her bed.

"It's about damn time!"

They shot apart, Rory moving quickly behind Tristan out of instinct. She clutched a hand to her chest, willing her heart to slow as they saw it was just Dan, sitting on her bed. He was lightly swaying back and forth, looking at them in disdain.

"Jesus," Tristan swore, moving closer to their friend. "What the hell are you doing in here?"

"I was waiting for her," he pointed to Rory. "This is all her fault!"

It was more than obvious that Dan had been drinking; his slurred words were falling out of his mouth, and Tristan could smell the strong remnants on his breath at a not so close range.

"Dan, what are you talking about? What's my fault?"

"I talked to her—you told me to, and I was dumb, and I did. And do you know what I said?"

Rory looked to Tristan, still uneasy. "What did you say?" she bit.

"No, she said. I asked, she said."

Tristan held in a smile at the other man's inability to speak correctly. Rory sighed, and tried again.

"Right. So, what did she say?"

"Boyfriend. She has one, who's not me."

Rory's mouth fell open, as did Tristan's. Neither could believe the truth that Dan was speaking, as they'd both seen her with Dan. She didn't act like a girl with a boyfriend. Rory moved closer to Dan, and put her hand on his knee before smelling his breath and backing off.

"I'm so sorry, Dan. But isn't it better that you know?"

The look he gave her made it clear that he obviously did not think it was better to know. He'd been far better off in the dark. Or at least until he found the bottle of whatever had saturated his system. His face paled just then, and a strange rumbling sound came from his stomach. Tristan's eyes widened, and he crouched next to Dan.

"Hey, man, you feeling okay?"

Dan shook his head, and the obscure rumble was heard again.

"I think we should get him to a toilet, or a trashcan, or something that you won't want to kill him from spewing all over."

Rory nodded, and they attempted to help Dan up to his feet. He was unstable, to say the least, on his feet, and his tall frame wavered between Tristan and Rory. Rory nearly tumbled under the weight when he'd lean suddenly to her side, but Tristan tried to field the brunt of the near-dead weight. Luckily Dan had left his own door unlocked, and they got him into his private bathroom without too much of a scene. He just made it to the toilet when the contents of his stomach from what seemed like age five 'til now came back to haunt him. Rory made a face, but rubbed his back soothingly while Tristan got supplies together. He rounded up a bottle of aspirin, a damp washcloth, a glass of water and a couple of towels. Rory looked up at him in wonderment, and raised an eyebrow.

"What are the towels for?"

"Watch and learn."

She did just that, observing and soothing as Tristan spread out the towels on top of one another on the floor, and folding the last one up like a pillow near the toilet. Dan pulled back, having finished a round of expelling his stomach contents, and Tristan handed Rory the wet washcloth. She wiped Dan's forehead and cheeks, and folded it over to rest it on the back of his neck.

"Feeling better?"

Dan emitted a groan, indicating that he either did or didn't—they couldn't really be sure. Rory helped Tristan lower Dan onto the 'mat' he'd created on the floor, in perfect distance to the toilet for future use.

"You've done this before?" she asked, a lilt to her voice.

"I've had to take care of myself. The first time you have a forty-eight hour stomach flu and no one around to take care of you, you learn to keep the basic necessities in a small, convenient area."

"Right," she said, feeling sadness grip her stomach and tug. Now wasn't the time to ask him to expand upon what he'd just told her, but she couldn't help but feel sympathy for him as she thought of no one being around to care for him when he needed it the most.

"What time is it?" Tristan asked, looking around the room for a clock.

"It's almost eight—he has on call hours tonight!"

"I don't think he's going to be very effective," Tristan said, looking at their friend who was now a shade between yellow and pink. It wasn't pretty.

"We should stay and help him. I feel responsible," she admitted.

"You weren't the one toying with him. Were you?" he teased.

She hit him with a rolled up hand towel. "Shut up. I feel bad."

"Fine, you stay in here with him, do that nurturing thing you girls are supposed to be so good at, and I'll stay near the main room, in case someone comes by."

"Deal," she agreed, taking the washcloth and wringing it out, making it cool once again before placing it back on Dan's forehead. Tristan moved out to open Dan's door as it should have been a couple of hours ago, and both said a silent prayer that the hall would be quiet tonight.

XXXX

Two hours had gone by, and Rory was leaning up against the tub, listening to Tristan read aloud from A Tale of Two Cities. It was the only real piece of literature Dan had in his room, and Rory wouldn't let Tristan leave to get something from either of their rooms. She couldn't lift Dan alone, and she was afraid someone would come by saying a pipe had burst or something equally horrific. She'd gotten bored after the first hour, during which Dan mainly moaned and slept, requesting Tristan to read anything other than the 'graphic novels' Dan had.

"Excuse me?"

A new voice interrupted Tristan's monologue, and Rory sat up straighter, ready to move swiftly to shut the door between any onlookers and Dan's sullied form as it lay on the floor.

"Yeah, can I help you?" Tristan asked immediately.

"Where's Dan?"

"He's feeling a little under the weather, so I'm subbing in for him tonight. What do you need?"

"I need a hammer."

"A hammer? For what?"

"Why does that matter?" came the uneasy response.

"Uh, I guess it doesn't. Hang on, I'm sure he has tools somewhere," Tristan muttered, moving to open drawers.

"Closet!" Rory hissed.

"What was that?" the voice asked.

"Uh, nothing, here we go, hammer. Take your time," he instructed as he practically pushed the guy out into the hall with his tool.

"Thanks."

Rory heard the footsteps walk out of the room and Tristan stuck his head in the bathroom.

"Thanks, how did you know?"

"I know my way around all the boys' rooms," she teased.

"You're funny. Uh-oh."

Rory looked to see what Tristan was concerned about, to notice Dan was stirring, and his coloring was off again. They helped him to a seated position so he could vomit again, and they did their well-honed routine of getting Dan resituated on the floor. He was barely coherent, just muttering and groaning as he slid back down to the floor.

"What do you think he drank?" she asked, watching him to make sure his chest was rising and falling properly.

"A hell of a lot of something," Tristan let out a low whistle as he flushed the toilet again.

"Poor guy. Who would have thought she had another boyfriend?"

Dan groaned at the mention, a sign she took as positive—he was relatively conscious.

"Hello?"

Tristan and Rory looked to one another. They knew that voice.

"Elisa?" Tristan asked, moving out to the main room and pulling the bathroom shut behind him, but not latching it.

Rory moved to fix the washcloth again and gently rub her hand over Dan's back. He offered a small smile, and let out a soft groan before falling into what finally looked like a peaceful sleep.

"What are you doing here?"

"Where's Dan?"

"He's not feeling so good."

"I need to talk to him," she said, edging toward the bathroom.

"Not a good idea. Tomorrow, maybe."

"What's wrong with him, he was fine earlier."

"I wouldn't say that," he said knowingly.

"You don't understand."

"I understand enough. You can't just do that to people, Elisa."

"I just want to talk to Dan," she reiterated.

"Tomorrow," he said with authority. "You need to leave. He's really sick," he steered her towards the door.

"Tell him I'm sorry," she said softly, then turned to leave. He nodded and closed the door, moving back in to check on the pair in the bathroom. It was past ten, and he officially deemed Dan off duty. Rory was resting her head against the lip of the tub, and Dan was looking almost normal, sleeping on the towels next to the toilet.

"She gone?" Rory lifted her head up as Tristan stepped over Dan to sit next to her.

"Yeah. She says she's sorry."

Rory snorted. "I'll bet."

"You should go get some rest. I'll stay and watch him. At least his on call hours are over."

"I'll stay. It's not fair that you have to do this by yourself."

"I don't mind," he said, taking her hand in his. She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed.

"This isn't so bad," she breathed.

He smiled. "You are the easiest girl to please. We're sitting on Dan's bathroom floor, making sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit, and you're having a good time."

"What can I say? I'm very odd," she informed him.

Tristan let out a laugh, and closed his eyes for a minute, a clear picture of a younger version of themselves coming to mind. "I meant that in a good way."

"I thanked you, didn't I?"

"Would you take care of me like this?" he turned and looked at her.

"If you drank yourself into a stupor?"

He shrugged. "If anything."

She nodded. "Of course. I mean, I'm not saying I enjoy the regurgitating or anything," she winced. "That actually freaks me out."

"Well, you hide it well."

"What about you? Gonna hold my hair back next time I'm praying the porcelain god?"

He laughed at her euphemism. "Well, we can't have your pretty hair getting all disgusting, now can we?"

"I wonder if Mom and Luke are doing this right now."

"Morning sickness?" he asked knowingly.

"Yeah. She said that was the hardest part of hiding the pregnancy—she's had really bad nausea."

He was quiet for a minute, and stopped the small ministrations on her hand with his thumb. She turned to look at him again, and noticed the pensive look on his face.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Tristan, come on," she urged softly.

"Would you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Not tell the guy, if you, you know," he hinted.

"Oh. I don't know."

She looked away from him, his gaze a little too intense for her at the moment. His silence was deafening, and the only sound that filled the room was Dan's even but noisy breath.

"I mean, it would depend on the situation. Some guys wouldn't want to know," she hedged.

"I would," he said without hesitation.

"Oh," she said softly. "Okay."

He looked at her, as she took in the seriousness of the conversation. She opened her mouth to speak again, but before sound could reach her lips, they heard Dan stir again.

"Oww," he groaned holding his head in his hands. "Where am I?"

Tristan knelt next to his friend and smiled. "In your bathroom. You're looking better."

Rory moved next to him to inspect. "Definitely a more human-looking color."

"No hint of green anymore at all," Tristan continued.

"How you feeling, Champ?" she asked.

"Champ?" Tristan questioned her, bemused.

She shrugged as Dan moaned again. "Could you two keep your voices down?"

"Aspirin time," Tristan said, moving to reach the bottle and the glass of water. He offered them to Dan, who managed to swallow the two white pills and downed them with water.

"I feel like shit."

"What did you drink?" Rory asked, still curious.

"Big bottle. Brown," he muttered.

"Oh, that," she mocked.

"Sorry about this," Dan groaned.

"It's understandable," Rory nodded.

"Can you make it to bed?" Tristan asked.

"I'm good here. You guys, go," he insisted, in the strongest voice he could muster.

"You sure?" Rory asked, standing up as Tristan helped pull her off the floor.

"I'm sure. Just come back in the morning, hold a mirror under my nose?"

"Will do," Tristan promised, and led Rory out of the room, leaving Dan to his misery.

She sighed once they reached the darkened hallway. It'd been a quiet Saturday night, not surprising since most people hit the town or studied on most weekends. There weren't many people hanging about in the dorms at any rate.

"What a night," she said, thinking of their last bit of private conversation.

"Yeah. Poor guy."

"Yeah. So," she bit her lip, suddenly unsure as to the protocol.

"It's late. We should get to bed."

"Right, bed."

"Mine or yours?"

"Mine, if you don't mind. Mom might call at any time, for any number of insane reasons."

"Pregnancy hormones," he nodded.

"Right."

"Let's go," he said, putting his weary arm around her equally tired shoulders and they stumbled back to her room, closing the rest of the world out for the remainder of the evening.