Disclaimer: I own nothing and profit none.

A/N: Day 5 and 10,000 words! Woohoo!

Sorry for the short one today, but I'm fighting off an Evil Cold right now. So if I miss a post - or if the writing gets, um, SUPER special - it's cause of the fever. Or possibly the NyQuil. But no worries, I'm still on track as of today and we're gonna make it to 50,000 words!

Total Word Count: 10,159

His head hurt. Declan was evil. Very evil. Thinking in his head hurt, too.

"Mmph," Will groaned into his pillow and wondered if he could manage to smother himself.

A harsh rap on the door interrupted his contemplation of death with pain. Before he could locate his voice to call out... something, the door opened.

"Morning, sunshine." Proof that Declan was, in fact evil. Only evil could be that unaffected by the previous night.

"Evumph," he managed to mumble, then winced in reaction.

"I told you not to switch to whiskey." Ah, smugness. Evil was often smug. The evidence was piling up.

Will declined to comment. He hoped it would be read as a derisive dismissal, rather than him not wanting his head to fall off.

"If I say that I brought you coffee, will you attempt to get up?"

Well, maybe not pure evil.

Slowly, by careful inches, Will pushed himself up off the bed until he was more or less sitting upright. Squinting through the hazy light that filtered through the curtains, he could make out a gently steaming mug in Declan's hand. If only it were closer.

"Good as it's gonna get," Declan observed, moving over to the bedside and carefully handing the coffee over. Will inhaled as deeply as he dared, then managed a small sip. Umm. Maybe he should reconsider that whole suffocation thing.

Declan maintained a respectful silence until the mug was half-empty.

"Feeling more human?"

"Um," Will agreed. "S'nice."

"An actual word. That's a good sign." Will thought about glaring. "Soon you'll work your way up to multiple syllables."

Before he could decide on an appropriate response that required a minimum of effort, his phone exploded. Or at least rang far too loudly with The World's Most Obnoxious Sound. When the hell had that been programmed? And by who, Guns N Roses?

The bed shifted as Declan leaned to read the display. "Ah. I'll just get this, shall I?" Will didn't get the chance to frame the word 'who,' as the call was answered and a chipper 'good morning' issued.

"Oh, he's awake," Declan looked over at him critically and Will tried to look lively. "In the loosest definition of the word."

Huh, apparently the coffee had revived his ability to glare. Important step.

"Nah, he was mixing his drinks. Beer and whiskey is a terrible idea," Declan paused. "I did try to tell him that."

Absently, Will listened to half the conversation as he devoted most of his attention to finding the bottom of his mug. It was a vital quest.

"Is he? Was going to ask about that today, but haven't quite worked up to it yet. He's still a bit monosyllabic." Declan's bark of laughter had Will burying his nose in the mug to recover. "I didn't break him. He should be right as rain by the time I ship him back down there."

As Will gazed sadly at the bottom of his now-empty mug, his mind caught on the word 'down.'

"Magnus?" he blinked over at Declan.

"Ah, someone's decided to join the conversation. Shall I hand you over?" In reaction to her response, he slid closer to Will and held the phone in front of them, thumbing the speaker on.

"Magnus?" Will tried again.

"Good morning, Will," accented tones of amusement filtered through the room with the sunlight.

A fuzzy memory knocked on his consciousness. "I called you last night."

"When?" Declan asked, surprised.

"After we got back," Will admitted. "Um, did I apologize for that?" he directed towards the phone.

"You did," Magnus reassured him, "though I did tell you there was no need. In case you don't recall, you told me that you had a lovely evening, that you'd be staying in London another week, and said good night. Perfectly normal."

"Ah, good." Conscience clear, Will tried very hard not to think about his pillow with longing. Lost in the effort, he only caught the tail-end of a question from Magnus and let Declan do the talking. Sleep bad. Waking good. Maybe he could get some more coffee.

When Declan paused, Will nudged him with an elbow, which earned him a raised eyebrow.

"Kitchen?" he asked, clutching his mug pleadingly.

A laugh from the phone had them both looking down.

"Perhaps you can call me back when you've the files in front of you," she suggested with humor in her tone. "For now, I recommend pancakes. They always stood me in good stead."

Will filed the image of Magnus with a hangover in the vault of Things He Would Have to See to Imagine. He was going to have to orchestrate a few of those one day. Maybe sometime when his head felt less like pain and dead things and fuzz.

"Always more of a fry-up man myself," Declan mused. Both thoughts made Will slightly nauseous. He tried to push the images away quickly.

"Oatmeal," he interjected firmly.

After a pause, "Will, you hate oatmeal," came through the phone.

"It's bland," he explained, then shut his mouth quickly as the thought of food brought the original nausea back with some friends.

"We'll work something out," Declan rose from the bed, tugging at Will's arm. "And soon, I think."

"Hm," Will tried to agree without opening his mouth.

"Maybe add some fruit?" he offered helpfully.

At the suggestion, the idea of bananas entered Will's mind and he slid out of Declan's hold and pointed himself where he remembered the bathroom existing last time.

The evidence was in. Final conclusion: the man was evil.