Note: Long time no see, my first attempt at a sick fic. Woot Woot. I also recently became obsessed with Grey's Anatomy, and, although people added Letter's to their favorite's and alerts, they didn't review it, as Dean, on Supernatural, once said, "Isn't that just a kick in the pants?" Ha, I love that line.

"Often, I find myself wanting to be alone, but my biggest fear is that I will be." –Grey's Anatomy

"Why did you come to my house to do this?" Said 18 year-old Callie Shaw as she stood in the doorway of her bathroom. It was Friday night, and the young blonde girl currently had no plans. Her 14 year-old brother was at the movies, her mother was out doing god knows what. Callie herself had planned on a quiet, relaxing night.

Until Joe Hardy showed up at her door.

Joe, was the kind of guy that Callie was constantly denying to be friends with, but, when push came to shove, he was. In each other's presence, they were reduced to the maturity of seven year-olds. But still, Joe was her friend. It was a very love/hate relationship. A wonderful animosity.

But still, Callie was a wee bit surprised when she opened her front door to find him there. Apparently Frank was helping out their mom at the local library where she worked, and he had sent Joe to give her some research for a project Callie and Frank were partner's on. Callie had tossed the folder on her couch, and was joking with Joe as she finished making her dinner (Macaroni and cheese). Or, at least, she was joking. Joe just plain looked like crap. Within ten minutes of conversing, her friend had lept from his seat and made a run for the bathroom.

And now, here she stood in the doorway, wondering weather she should stand there or go offer a bit of comfort.

"Sorry, I can't control my stomach." Muttered Joe, in between heaving, as he clutched Callie's toilet for dear life. Joe knew he was sick, he wasn't stupid. But he was stubborn. Joe had figured, if he ignored the problem, downplayed it, he would be fine. He had woken up this morning feeling tired, out of sorts, and with a sore throat. Joe had went to school, and despite gagging for most of lunch, and falling asleep in English and Social Studies, he had made it through the day without giving himself away. Except Iola kept giving him those, I-know-something-is-wrong-with-you-dude-just-give-it-up looks every time Joe said he was 'fine', when she asked him if he was ok.

When Joe got home, he promptly locked himself in his room and slept for a good three hours. When he woke up, he felt no better than before, if not worse, to find that he could add migraine and cough to his long list of symptoms. After he stumbled downstairs, chocked down some Advil, and went to the restroom, he noticed a note on the counter from his brother. Apparently he had slept through his family banging on his bedroom door, and himself simply incoherently mumbling shut up. His mother and brother were at the library, his father on a case, his Aunt out, and Frank wanted him to drop off some stuff at Callie's. Despite the fact he highly doubted he could drive, he got in his car, drove in a daze to Callie's, (He was pretty sure he ran a couple of stop lights on the way there), with the heat on max. Joe tried to talk normally with Callie for a bit before he bailed, but, god, he didn't have the energy to banter with her as usual. The fact that she was making food had finally pushed his already angry stomach over the edge, and he found the little food he had ate today working its way out of him.

Joe finally stopped heaving, and dizzily laid his head on the cool ceramic. God, he was so tired. Joe closed his eyes tightly, and pretended he was home. He then felt a tiny hand on his shoulder.

"Joe? You ok?" Asked Callie softly, suddenly worried about her friend. Joe forced his eyes open and croaked out, "Just peachy." Then promptly shut his eyes again. Callie's tiny hand then made its way to his forehead.

"Ok, kid, you're like really hot." She muttered as she walked over to the sink to get a Dixie cup and fill it with water.

"Oh, thank you, Callie. Hope my brother didn't hear that." Joe managed to say, eyes still firmly shut. Had her bathroom lights always been this bright?

"Now I knew that was coming. Dude, be creative. That is the most overused sick joke in the history of the world." Said Callie as she walked back over to Joe who simply groaned at her loud voice.

"Sorry, the thing is, it's always used because sick people have issues thinking."

"If you're sick then why did you say you were fine every time Iola asked if you were sick today?"
"Because I'm not sick."

"Wow, that makes sense. Here, swish and rinse." Callie said. Joe scrunched up his face, then forced his eyes open. In his blurred vision, he managed to make out Callie handing him a Dixie cup. He somehow managed to make his body to listen to him, to take the cup, and then gulp down it's contents, in an attempt to make his flaming throat feel better.

"That was stupid. SWISH and RINSE. It's gonna come back up…" Said Callie, the last part said in a sing song voice. Joe was about to deny that, when the water hit his stomach, leaving a chilling and pained feeling. And then…

"Oh god."

"Told you so." Joe would have replied shut up to Callie's 'told you so', but the water then came up.

"Nice," muttered Callie, "You should have just drank the toilet water, then put it back in there." The thoughts that Callie's comment struck up in Joe were toughly disgusting, and, with a moan, he leaned forward and began to dry heave. Joe instantly felt Callie's warm hands on his shoulders, causing a chill to go through his body. Now thoroughly miserable, he once again laid his head on the toilet, thankful for the coldness of it against his flaming warm cheek.

"Oh shit, Joe, I'm sorry. That was mean." Said Callie, obviously remorse in her voice. Joe simply managed to somewhat sit up, and, with a shaking hand, shut the toilet lid.

"It's ok. It's something I'd say to you if you were the one on the floor." Mumbled Joe in response, truly spent. Joe sat there for a moment, on Callie's bathroom floor, dazed, in pain, and so tired. He then felt Callie's tiny hands under his armpits.

"Come on, you're going to find a temporary home on my sofa." Said Callie as she helped Joe get to his feet. When Joe finally reached vertical position, the dizziness overwhelmed him, and his right hand stuck out and clutched the counter.

"You ok?" Asked Callie worriedly. Joe wanted to just nod, but he figured that would make is headache worse.

"Yeah, just got up too fast."

"We were moving in slow motion."

"Shut up." Joe whined as his head and throat screamed in protest to the bickering.

"Sorry." Muttered Callie as she steered Joe out of the bathroom, and through the kitchen, and straight to her family room sofa. Which Joe collapsed on and promptly curled into a ball. Joe put his hands over his head, and closed his eyes. Just the small walk to the other room had left his stomach doing summersaults, his head aching, and his throat throbbing.

"Are you preparing for a tornado drill?" Said Callie, who, Joe figured, was somewhere to his right.

"Well, your personality is similar to a tornado." Said Joe, then finished the statement with a painful cough.

"God, stop coughing. Just hearing you makes my chest hurt. Here, keep warm. You look pathetic." Joe then felt a fleece blanket hit him. He wearily open his eyes and laid it across him.

"Hello Kitty?"
"Be happy I gave you a blanket at all, kid." Said Callie as she walked back into the kitchen in search of a phone.

"I'm calling your brother, you know." That comment caused Joe to sit up straight, and fall back down onto the sofa as his head disagreed with the sudden movement.

"Noooo. He'll make me go home, and then I'll puke in his car, and then he'll lecture me, then he'll feel bad, and I can't deal with that." Said Joe pathetically as he cocooned deeper into the Hello Kitty blanket. Callie then re-entered the room, with her cell phone in her hand.

"Joe…" Said Callie, torn, because she knew Joe's words were true, but Frank was her boyfriend.

"Come on, Cal. You know that's what will happen. Just let me crash on your sofa tonight, your mom won't even know, and Scott won't care." Said Joe, who was doing his best to look like a sad puppy dog. Then again, that wasn't that hard. He was as pale as a ghost, with bags under his lightly bloodshot eyes.

"Alright, but you have to listen to whatever I say, and, tomorrow, if I don't think you're fit to drive, I'm calling Frank. Deal?"
Joe didn't really even care what he was agreeing to. The couch was warm, and he stopped listening to Callie at the word 'alright'.

"Sounds good." Muttered Joe, as he located a small throw pillow and laid his head on it. The sound of music was light from the living room, and he was just about asleep when…

"Take this." Joe nearly screamed in frustration, and looked wearily up at Callie.

"I was almost asleep, you know."

"Yeah, that's nice. Remember, you're at my disposal. Here, take this. Only swallow some of the water, or do it the House way, though. I'm not cleaning puke up off my carpet."

Joe didn't even care what medication Callie was giving him, she could be poisoning him for all he knew, but he took it, with a small gulp of water, and fell back onto the couch.

"I should make you try and eat something." Said Callie, as Joe shuddered at the thought of food.

"I can't even keep a glass of water down, you think food will stay down? Not gonna happen, Cal." Said Joe, not even bothering to open his eyes. He then heard Callie sigh.

"Alright, go to sleep. Besides, the crap I gave you will knock you out in a bit anyways. Sweet dreams kid."

Joe smiled a bit, happy that he had won the war.

"Brat." He mumbled back at Callie, with a slight smile on his face.

"Jerk."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

"But you're still a brat."

"And you're still a jerk."

Then Joe fell into a blissful slightly drug induced sleep.

There were times when he was thoroughly thankful Callie was around.