A/N: So, this chapter gets rather on the squeamish side, just a warning, but nothing explicit or gory. What can I say, drugs are bad :)
TJ's skin was burning up, his pulse racing. As if that wasn't enough, his breathing sounded a lot more labored than Douglas remembered. He hoped it was just the exertion of the past several minutes. "Aw, TJ…hang in there, I'll get something to cool you down."
"Wait…I think—" Suddenly TJ lurched to the side, toward the trash can on the other side of the bathroom alcove. Douglas got the picture, hauling him by his shirt and one arm just in time for TJ to empty his stomach into the receptacle. His twin gasped and heaved uncontrollably, only staying upright because of Douglas' grip on him. Douglas tried not to feel sick himself. This had to be the most messed up, awkward situation he had ever been in. And yet, his prior anger began to fade away the more TJ seemed to struggle. All they had was each other right now, no adults, no help. And this was his brother, after all.
An agonizing minute or so passed before the fit appeared to have run its course. TJ shook in earnest now from the exertion, eyes and nose streaming, sweat plastering his hairline. Douglas slipped his shoulders under TJ's arm.
"Come on, let's get you some water to get rid of that taste, and then I'll get something to cool you down," he coaxed. His back was not happy with the awkward angle it took to support TJ so he could reach the drinking fountain, not that it could be helped. Once that was over, he got TJ situated against the wall again and hurried into the bathroom. Paper towels were probably the best bet. Douglas dispensed a good supply, folded and soaked a couple, and went back out.
TJ had closed his eyes, though he was still upright.
"Hey, stay with me. If we can't be sure what you took, then we gotta wait the stuff out. I'm not going to be responsible for you slipping into a coma or something."
Douglas gently shook TJ's arm. TJ grimaced. "So tired…"
"I know, I am too. I'm gonna need to fish out some cash in a bit and try out that coffee machine, maybe a snack. You may be sweating right now, but I'm still freezing from running around outside."
"Ugh, don't mention food right now…can't I jus' lay down…?"
"Tell you what—stay awake while I get some stuff set up, we'll finish getting into some dry clothes, and I'll let you lay down, okay? Just keep yourself going until then. Here, the outlet's right next to you. Get my phone plugged in while you wait."
Douglas' extremities were beginning to go numb despite the relative warmth of the little shelter. Dry clothes first. Both of them had really only packed to change out of their suits from inauguration, so those would have to do. He hung their coats on doorknobs, and laid his jeans close to one of the heaters. That gave him the idea to put the wet paper towels by the door for a while to make them colder. Then he pulled out TJ's clothes. His brother was more thoroughly soaked, but had only gotten as far as his shoes and sweatshirt. Of course, he wasn't happy to have Douglas tugging at the rest.
"'M not a baby…"
"Well, unless you're going to start moving around more, it's not going to happen by itself. Help me out, here."
With much grumbling and more awkward maneuvers, they got TJ into his suit pants and undershirt. Enough of their initial snowy tracks had dried up to be able to walk around in dress socks without too much trouble. Douglas counted about twenty bucks between their wallets, a few of which he used for a piping hot cup of coffee, a Snickers bar for himself, and some plain snack crackers for TJ. He also retrieved one of the paper towels.
"I don't think I could handle food right now…" groaned TJ.
"They're just for easy reach when you think you're ready. Here, lean over onto this." Douglas had one blanket wrapped around himself. He mostly unfolded the other one so TJ could lay down with his head in Douglas' lap, as well as have a layer for cover. Feverish as he was, his wiry frame still shook with chills, and he was too out of it to protest. Douglas pressed the cold paper towel to his brother's face. "How's that?"
"Little better…head 'n stomach not so unsteady like this…"
TJ's pulse was still faster than Douglas liked. On his other side, his phone blinked that it was charging, but the screen said 'NO SIGNAL.' Great. He flipped on the storm radio just to have something to listen to. His choices were static, a 30- or so second sound byte of the current weather conditions and warnings on repeat, and a truckers' station that faded in and out.
Around 2 am, according to his watch, TJ agreed to try some crackers. Douglas got a second cup of coffee, rinsing the first out to have some water on hand, and switched out the paper towels (the new one had to be rewetted, but it was good and cold).
"I'm sorry about all this…" his brother mumbled as the radio voice reduced to a buzz for a few seconds.
"We can't change the past, and there's nothing we can do about the storm. So we just try to keep going."
"Any luck with your phone?"
"The signal's about as bad as the radio. Last time I flipped over to the weather, though, it said this thing's supposed to clear up by around six. Once my phone's finished charging I was going to plug yours in to have another one handy. See if it has any better luck."
TJ squirmed. He couldn't seem to get comfortable no matter how either of them tried to adjust. They spent several minutes like this with only spotty commercials in the background, until TJ's face contorted and he unsteadily tried to throw off the blanket. "I gotta—" Further explanation was cut off by having to clap a hand to his mouth.
Once again Douglas provided the speed and coordination TJ lacked. This was a less clean save, however. The first disgustingly chunky bits hit the rim of the can as they reached it. TJ moaned pitifully between bouts of retching, a sound that really tore at Douglas' heart. No matter who was to blame for them ending up this way, he hated seeing his twin brother so miserable and being unable to stop it.
"Uggh…that was horrible…" TJ finally croaked, his voice echoing slightly given that he had his head resting on one arm draped across the back of the trash can rim. He spat every so often, trying to breathe normally.
"Take your time, I'm not going anywhere," replied Douglas, one hand on TJ's back to make sure he didn't fall over.
TJ made a noise that was dangerously close to tearful. "We might need to move."
"You feeling lightheaded? Something else? Or you're not done, you just need to be able to sit—we could try to make it into the bathroom," Douglas guessed frantically.
"Well, bathroom, yeah, but it's because we might have another mess to worry about soon…"
Douglas' wrung out brain clicked, and he hauled TJ up with a new burst of energy. TJ whimpered from the jostling. Douglas steered him to the handicapped stall even though it was the farthest one.
"Why that one…?"
"Because if you pass out I'm not pilling into a tiny stall to get you. There are bars to hold onto, and plenty of room."
"You're not staying in there with me—"
"Dude, that's record gross, which is saying something given tonight's track record. Do what you need to do. I'm going get some more water, and then I will wait right here, outside, to make sure you're okay. Don't lock that door, in case I do have to come after you."
"Not sure I could work it right now if I wanted…"
This was getting beyond terrifying. With no sleep, no medical knowledge, no clue as to what was happening, Douglas honestly wondered if his brother was dying. He snatched his phone to take with him, despite it being doubtful he would get better reception in a bathroom rather than the lobby. He grabbed one of the blankets, for what it was worth, and topped off the water on his way back. Inside the tiled room, all was quiet except for TJ's hitched breathing.
"You still in one piece?" Douglas asked tentatively. He tried his best to ignore the smell.
"You mean I've been in one piece up 'til now?" came the strained retort.
"What can I say, drugs are bad for you."
"Shut up, jerk." His tone was a shade toward lighthearted, however. Douglas would take whatever victory he could get at the moment.
"I've got water for you, whenever you want it."
"Not sure I could keep anything down right now…"
"You gotta try something. We can hold off on the crackers, but at some point you're going to need fluids. What if I got you a Gatorade?"
TJ let out a grunt that may or may not have been a suppressed gag.
They lapsed into silence. Douglas set the cup just under the stall partition, hopefully close enough for TJ to reach, and settled with his back against the nearest wall. He tried to ease his state of mild panic by focusing on the sound of TJ's breathing, labored though it was. His phone hovered around one bar, which wouldn't be of any use. It could mean he might have a better chance out in the lobby, but he wasn't going to budge until he knew TJ would be okay.
Douglas only realized he had started to nod off when the room suddenly echoed with the blast of a flushing toilet. His head snapped up so quickly it hit the tile behind him, eliciting a pained string of swearing. His watch read just past 3. Then he wrenched his attention back to the source of the disturbance. "TJ, how're you doing?"
The rustling of clothing was his only answer at first. The fumbled clicking of a belt buckle. A pause—and the sound of someone falling against the stall fixtures. Douglas leapt to his feet.
"TJ!"