“Nyquil. The good stuff. I don’t want that wimpy daytime shit!” Fitz called out.
“Same,” Jude said. “But I want my own bottle, not one that Ronan slurped out of.”
“Just for that, I’m slurping out of every bottle that comes into this house.” Ronan shot Jude a so-there look.
“Get some cough drops too. The kind with the yodelers blowing big horns. I don’t want to listen to Ronan and Jude hacking all night,” Fitz said and started coughing.
“Says the man who’s hacking.” Jude rolled his eyes. “Send popsicles too. The little rocket pops with red, white and blue flavors.”
“I want grape pops,” Fitz said.
“Cherry for me,” Ronan added. “And ginger ale!”
“Okay guys,” Ten said. “We’ll swing by with your supplies and lunch from the Thai place. There’s plenty of food in the house in the meantime. You’re not in danger of starving.”
“Bye, Ten,” Ronan said and hung up the phone. “Well, we’re on our own for now. I’m starving, who’s gonna make me a sandwich.”
“Not it!” Jude and Fitz said at the same time.
Ronan sighed and got off the sofa. “Just for that, I’m not going to tell you where I hide the good candy!”
“You mean the stuff you keep in the R2D2 cookie jar in the pantry?” Jude asked. He’d known about Ronan’s secret hiding spot for years and had a feeling Everly did too.
Taking another sip from his tea, Jude laid back on his pillow and reached for the remote. He pulled upJurassic Parkand sighed happily. Maybe this would work out. Cope was right, it was only one overnight with Fitz and Ronan. It wasn’t like they hadn’t slept together before. On vacations and various stakeouts.
How hard could this be?
3
Ronan
Curses, Foiled Yet Again
In Ronan’s relatively short time on this earth, he’d never once thought about killing another human being. Sure, he’d had the odd thought from time to time wishing explosive diarrhea on people who’d wronged him or an hour of aggressive hiccups on the cashier at Macy’s who’d told him he was too old to wear turquoise, but aside from that, he’d never once considered hurting another person.
Until today.
Tennyson had been true to his word, dropping off the various meds and comfort items the three detectives requested, and had even included some little extras like Ronan’s peanut butter cups. Sour Patch Kids for Jude and food magazines for Fitz. The sweet and sour soup from the Thai place was just what the doctor ordered, along with plenty of crunchy spring rolls and crab Rangoon.
“What the hell is this?” Ronan asked in his froggy-sounding voice. He’d just come out of the bathroom after lunch to see Jude and Fitz sitting at the kitchen table chowing down on his beloved peanut butter cups. Everyone in the O’Mara-Grimm household knew it was hands-off with the Reese’s, but apparently Jude hadn’t gotten the memo.
You think you know a person.
“What the hell iswhat?” Jude asked, around a mouthful of candy. Scattered around him were four empty wrappers, licked clean.
“You’re eating my peanut butter cups!” Ronan had never been more outraged in his life. Not even when Lance McTwinkleToes told him turquoise was for young gays.
“Ohhh, those are my favorite,” Fitzgibbon said, grabbing another snack. He sat in Everly’s usual seat and ate the cup in one bite. “Mmmm, heaven.”
Ronan sputtered. “Those are mine.”
“What’s yours?” Fitzgibbon asked, reaching for a second treat.
Ronan couldn’t be sure, but thought he saw a gleam in Cap’s eyes. In all the years he’d known Fitz, the man had never done anything to warrant Ronan’s suspicion of him, but when peanut butter cups were involvedanythingwas possible.
Maybe his fever was messing with his brain. Or Fitzgibbon was messing with his emotional support candy. “The Reese’s. Ten got those for me.”
“Too bad. So sad.” Fitzgibbon popped an unwrapped peanut butter cup into his mouth.
