Why Don't We Sickfics

Daniel-Faking?

3rd POV
He didn't want to go. He really didn't want to go. But Daniel had to go to the interview.

It was with a lady they had been interviewed by before, and she was a bitch. Daniel hated her with his entire being. Her name was Carla(sorry to all the Carla's out there!) and she had the worse attitude; snarky, sarcastic, and overall two-faced.

Daniel lay in bed that morning, thinking of a way to get out of the interview.

Daniel's POV
I really didn't want to go to the interview, and the only way I'd get out of it was if I was sick, which was what happened the last time, when Zach missed a talk show because of strep throat.

Then I got an idea. What if I faked sick? I'm a pretty good actor, and have even fooled my mother into staying home from school because I 'had the flu'.

It was early in the morning, and none of the boys were awake yet, so I decide now was the best time to act. I decided my symptoms would be a fever, headache, sore throat, and an upset stomach.

I quietly went downstairs into the kitchen to get a washcloth and to make the 'vomit'. I fill up and heat the bottle, setting it on the counter.

Then, I mix guacamole, mustard, a chopped-up cheese stick, oatmeal, salsa, and a bit of sour cream into a small bowl, creating a foul smelling, but very real looking fake vomit.

I easily made my throat red by sucking on a hard cherry candy. I grabbed the vomit and the washcloth, and slip back upstairs.

I got back into my bedroom and ran to my private bathroom. Running the damp washcloth all over my face and chest to make me look sweaty, I also rinse my mouth out with hot water.

Then, I pat down my bed with the washcloth to make it look like I sweat out my sheets. I climb into bed, and swallow down the disgusting mixture, immediately feeling my stomach try and push it back up. I slide the bowl under my bed, and wait.

I was trying really hard to keep the mixture down, but Jonah would be up any minute.

When I hear the older male waking up, I finally let myself heave up the substance. Almost immediately my body starts shaking and sweating, a natural reflex of vomiting.

I hear footsteps pounding down the hall to my room, and see Jonah in the doorway, stunned.

I choke up the last bit of the foul mix onto my floor, and lean back a bit, trying to look freaked out, even though I actually  was.

"Daniel, how the hell did you get sick so easily?" Jonah said, slowly stepping into the room, staring at the 'vomit.' "You were fine last night."

"O-overnight bug?" I gasp, trying to breath without smelling the vile scent.

"Must be. Here, let me take your temperature and get you some meds, then I want you to rest. We have an interview today, maybe you can sleep this bug off." Jonah said, leaving the room. "I think the thermometer and meds are in my bathroom." He mumbled to himself.

I smirk at his back, knowing he can't see my face. Oh Jonah, so caring and gullible.

Jonah comes back with the medicine and thermometer, as well as cleaning supplies.

"I got some fever reducers, ibuprofen, Advil, and Tylenol since I realized I don't actually know your symptoms." Jonah said, worry in his features. I felt a bit guilty, knowing that Jonah was genuinely worried about my health, even though I was perfectly fine.

"My stomach hurts, my throat's bothering me, and my head hurts." I say, making my voice raspy and rough.

"Wow, the whole package." Joan chuckled. "Before you take any of these,  I want to get your temperature."