G.L.A (Ghetto Love Affair)

(XII)You Just Need Me

Makani's head popped up and she rolled out of bed, across Trey, darting to the bathroom quicker than either man could register. They exchanged looks for a minute until they heard the faint sounds of her trying to stifle the noises from her vomiting. With a nod they both set into action, Trey heading to the linen closet and Chris to the kitchen pantry, phone already dialing Dion's number.

When Makani slowly ambled back to the bedroom, legs shaking, she had to find a way to explain that she needed some alone time without grossing them out. When she pushed the door to the bathroom open, Chris was on the other side waiting for her. Before she could open her mouth, he'd scooped her up into his arms and began to carry her to the guest room.

'Of course', she thought sadly.

Who'd want to be around when they knew their partner would be throwing up and on the toilet for the next couple of hours? If they were lucky. Makani let out a soft sigh, fingers threaded in his shirt to take comfort in his presence while he still wanted to be around her. When he pushed open the door Makani was surprised to see that they'd had it totally renovated. There was no longer a full-size bed and simple TV in here. There was a California king in its place, with a custom headboard installed that had medical supplies on one side, drinks and snacks on the other. Trey sat on the bed clearly waiting for them, his arms open and ready to take her from Chris' to get Makani situated. Once he did, she realized that while soft, the bedding beneath her was lined inside with some type of special plastic, yet plush material, for when she couldn't get out the bed. Even the mattress beneath seemed to be made out of a special material. Pulling the blanket up to her waist, Trey grabbed the bottle of Zofran and handed her two tablets before placing a room temperature ginger ale in her free hand.

"Before the nausea gets too bad"

Makani took the tablets and looked around the room to really inspect it. She hadn't had a reason to come in here since they normally all slept on the California king in the converted 2nd bedroom, so Makani had no idea how much they'd put into making it a Safe and comfortable space for her to go through the motions of her illness with them.

"Dion is on the way to set you up with a drip to keep you hydrated and full of electrolytes"
"And?", Trey pushed, eyes narrowing at Chris who only smirked in response, confusing Makani.
"And some painkillers that'll knock ya ass loopy and out when you can't deal with it anymore"
"How can yall get this stuff? Can't Dion lose her license?"
"Nope. Technically, you're disabled and require home health care when you have flare ups. It's all covered legally...for the most part"
"Necesito saber papi", Makani chuckled, holding her hand up.
"Say that", he nodded approvingly.
"So ummm, when did yall do this?"
"The day after we asked you to be in a thrupple", Chris laughed sliding on her other side, head lying on her lap as he flipped through their movie list.
"Yall move quick"
"A lifelong disability aint somethin you can bullshit about. We said we wanted to be witchu and take care of you. We meant that shit. We still learnin' but we definitely did our research after you said yes", Trey explained agreeing with 'Nope' as their movie, sending Chris a nod.
"You really don't have to stick around for this. It can get pretty bad"
"We're aware", Chris snorted queueing up the movie. 
"No, I mean bad as in really gross. Fuck the sounds, the smell is enough to send you reeling when you've been throwin' up for hours. The body forces you into really hot temps that makes me break out in sweats I can't control when it's happening and-"
"Well the vomit bags we got", Chris started effectively silencing her, Trey reaching into a circular compartment on the base of the headboard in the middle, and pulling a sealable bag out to show Makani. "Are odor-proof"

Trey placed the bag in her hand and couldn't help but smirk at her wide-eyed surprise as she smelled the lemon and lavender scented black bag, that looked more like a clutch, than a vomit bag. Chris thought the designs on the bags might make her feel better about it and from her soft, watery eyed smile, he was right.