You wake up and pack overnight bag because you’re going with Nick to see his sister and exchange some presents.  You do your best to ignore the prickling sensation that something is wrong but before you can draw in a deep breath, a harsh wave of nausea slams into your body. Turning quickly, you rush to your bathroom, thankful that the toilet is in close reach before your stomach violently expels everything in it.  You wince, your knees hurting from the way you fell to the floor, your eyes stinging at the too-sweet taste in the back of your throat. Another wave completely empties you out, a small string of dry heaving making you feel lightheaded. A short whimper crawls up your throat, flushing the toilet before you slowly move to sit next to it, your back pressed against the tub.  Fuck. 

I’m sick you huff as you hear Nick come into your bedroom, the sound of his boots against the tile of your bathroom floor. Forcing your eyes open, you look up at him, jeans and a t-shirt underneath a winter coat. He looks so comfortable and you know he smells good too, catching a whiff of his cologne as he crouches down in front of you. You’re so glad it doesn’t make you feel sicker than you already do.  “You have a fever?”  You shake your head, because you don’t think you do? Nick brushes some of your hair aside, cupping your cheek with his hand. He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead and you weakly protest, squeezing his wrist with your fingers.  “I don’t want you to catch whatever this is.”  “Iron-clad immune system,” He replies, indicating that he could give a shit that that might be a possibility. He stands from the floor and grabs a washcloth from the counter, wetting it in the sink and wringing it out. He brings it back over to you, gently sliding it along the back of your neck.  Fuck, that feels so good. A breath shudders out of you and your eyes slip closed. You shift a little, wrapping your arms around yourself. Your body was so warm when you first came in here and now you feel that sweat chill on your skin. Nick’s free hand ghosts over your shoulder, rubbing up and down one of your arms.  “You still feel sick?”  You shake your head, sniffling, opening up your eyes to look up into his warm brown ones. “If by ‘sick’ you mean royally pissed off that I’m suffering on my bathroom floor during my favorite holiday season, then yes.”

There’s a look on his face that you recognize far too easily, “Don’t even think about it, Nick. You’re going. I’m not going to have you skip out on seeing your sister because I got sick.”  He draws a deep breath in his chest, like he’s debating whether or not to ignore you and do what he wants anyways.  You poke his leg. “She’ll be crushed. I’m not getting coal for Christmas because of you.”

I’m fine.”  He doesn’t look convinced but he also knows better than to argue with you. He lifts your hand, kissing the back of yours before standing from the bed. “Let me know how you’re doing.”  “Every gross detail shall be yours.” He rolls his eyes but he’s smiling as he fixes the covers and zips his coat back up.

Nick leaves though your gaze trips on a date at the beginning of last week, one with a red dot on it. You blink at it, staring for far too long, nerves suddenly pinching together and causing a rolling to your stomach. No wait, that… You stand, reaching for the calendar, counting out days and doing it twice to make sure. Chewing on your lower lip, you try not to freak out that you’re five days late for your period. Which…shouldn’t be a big deal? It happens, sometimes your body can fluctuate. But for someone who’s so regularly on time, like clockwork, being late one day let alone five is enough for an alarm.  That paired with how sick you’re feeling? 

This can’t be happening. You’ve been so busy with the holiday season that you didn’t even notice that you missed the start to your period.