House Guests

Chapter 10: God damnit

What the hell? What is this? Is it... AN UPDATE. So I'm stuck in a writers block. I have no idea where to take this, so please, comment on message ideas, au's, themes, or situations I can use to hopefully continue and make this story better.
😎👌🏻👌🏻😎👌🏻👌🏻😎👌🏻👌🏻😎👌🏻👌🏻
WHAM. I snarled as I the gravel. My face had come into contact with the rooftop not seconds after Dirk decked me. I stood, swiping at my chin, sending a shower of gravel and droplets of blood showering down around me. Me and Dirk had agreed, he would teach me to fight, and I would tease Dave about his smuppet fear. I growled, baring my teeth at Dirk. He laughed, momentarily letting his guard down. I sprang forward, my right foot connecting with the ground in front of him. I turned, swishing past him, standing behind him and swiping at him with my katana. My blade connected with his. He had turned, bringing his blade up to meet mine. I leapt back, then sprang forward again. I stabbed, he blocked. Over and over, until I struck to low. He jumped to avoid the blade. My free hand shot up, punching him in the gut. He grunted, off balance, landing hard on his back. I pounced, crouched on his chest, my blade against his throat. He wrapped his legs around my waist, rolling me off and himself on top of me, his katana now at my throat.
He laughed, standing and helping me to my feet. We sheathed our swords, moving down the stairs to the bro's apartment. We pushed through the door, only to be met with Dave yelling at Dirk.
"DUDE THERE'S NO FOOD." He yelled. I rolled my eyes and laughed, grabbing Dirk's wallet.
"I got store- I made a list yesterday." I told him, moving out the door.
"K." He responded.
(a/n I'm 16, I sold the house, I live with the dork squad now- Dirk and Jake trade off with me, keeping me at both houses) I walked into the elevator, smiling at the place where I had fallen out of Dirk's arms months before. The elevator dinged, and I stepped out.
I walked casually into the store, grabbing what I needed and paying. By the time I was done, a Texas- sized storm had rolled in. Lightning crashed as rain poured down. I held the food bags close as I sprinted for the apartment.
Suddenly, my foot caught on a broken piece of cement and I went sprawling across the sidewalk.
"Uumph," I grunted as my knees dragged along. Shit, now my knees and hands were scraped, and the food's getting wet. Rain continued to pour. Icy chills began to rack my body. I was soaked, but the food seemed ok- for now. I stuffed the bag under my t-shirt and sprinted agin, this time without injury. I bounced into the elevator, pounded the 50th floor elevator button and began to rise. I took the time to asses the damage. Bloody knees as hands, bags a little damp, but nothing to bad. Everything is chill.
I arrived at floor 50, popping open the apartment lock with the key. I pushed my way through the door. "I'M BACK SHIT HEADS," I yelled. Dave's head poked into the room, as did Dirk's
"Here." I said, passing the groceries to Dirk.
"Jegus- your soaked." Dave said- ironically.
"No shit?" I said sarcastically. I'm shivering, drenched, and not to mention, cold.
AFTER A SHOWER
Sleep. All I need is sleep. God, I hope I don't get a cold from the rain, but with my luck, I most absolutely will.
"HEY MASON, KARKAT AND JAKE ARE COMING OVER TOMORROW." Dirk yelled.
"K!" I yelled right back. I collapsed on my bed, my flannel pants constricting around my legs and my tank top rising around my stomach. I caved, giving myself fully to the world of dreams.
THE NEXT MORNING
Eh'sshhhhhu! I sneezed. Fuck. Not a great way to wake up but whatev- YEP I'M GUNNA PUKE.
I lunged at my desk-side garbage bin, curing over it and spewing the contents of my gut into it. "Shit." I mumbled between heaves. Tears streamed down my face as my fist curled and slammed into the floor beside me. I wheezed, gasping for breath next to the trash when my stomach was empty. I scrubbed at the tears on my face, and a sneeze rattled my small form. I crumpled forward, my head hitting the floor as my arms coiled around my stomach. Oh. Oh. Oh no. I grabbed the trash can again and heaved, but I had nothing left inside the abyss of my stomach. All I could do was dry heave and wait for it to pass. More tears streamed down my face. Dirk, Dave, Jake, and Karkat exploded into the room. I rested my head on my arm, which was rested on the trash can. I wheezed again as powerful coughs wracked my body.
"Shit." Dirk said, grabbing me in his arms, despite my weak protests.
"Dave, get the sick stuff." Dirk said. "Karkat, clean out the trashcan and Jake change the sheets."
"I'm fine." I spat, "I can take care of myself, I'm 16 for fuck sakes- put me down, I'm not sick!"
"Like hell you aren't!" Karkat snapped. Dirk knew how to play parent. Oh no. I have a feeling that Dirk the momma hen was about to rear its ugly head.