I thought throwing up would be the end of Clay's suffering for today. However, turns out his head had other plans. Over the passing hours he developed the strongest headache ever.

"I need a pill." After fighting over the pain and trying to stay concentrated on the conversation the 3 of us held while eating the meal I cooked, Clay finally spoke.

"Nick brought some Tylenol for you," I remembered the abandoned medicine bag beside the TV and got up, "I'll get you one."

I also asked Nick to bring me some Allegra for my pollen allergies that were starting to kick in. And remembering that I had to take it was a complete happy accident in this case, cause if Clay didn't mention his headache, I wouldn't remember my allergies.

I took the bag and moved to the kitchen, sitting down before digging for the medicine. Taking out the Tylenol, I popped one out of the seal and handed it to Clay, letting him take it while I tried to take mine.

However, I realized that the packaging looked nothing like the pills I used to take almost my whole life. Did they change it?

Looking back and forth between Nick and the drug he bought, I couldn't believe he got it this wrong.

"Nick, what did I ask you to bring?" I put the box down so that he couldn't read the label.

"Uhh, Tylenol and.. uuhh.. Niagara?" My expectations weren't that high to start with.

"It's Allegra," I corrected and he made it seem like that made sense to him, "and what did you bring?"

I doubt my question made sense to him. I was asking that question to someone who just thought Niagara was a medication, so it's even pointless to say that my question was going to get answered.

So I answered it myself.

"Nick, you brought Viagra."

That word didn't say anything to Nick, but Clay on the other hand almost spit out the water he was drinking. I'm just glad I read the packaging. Imagine if under certain circumstances I asked Nick to pass me a pill. How did we get lucky this time.

"I knew it had something to do with chupacabra, dammit!" And now Nick was mad that he couldn't guess the word he got wrong.

We came to an agreement to not talk about this and try to stay calm for the rest of the night. We already had a long and chaotic day behind us, and blaming Nick for this incident wouldn't be fair to someone who just wanted to be helpful.

We planned on getting ready for bed. All of us were tired, especially Nick who had an exceptionally long day.

Deciding who sleeps where was still a big problem. Clay needed constant attention due to the unstable state of his organism, while Nick needed constant attention because he was just a big baby.

"Do you promise to not fuck if I take the floor beside the bed?" Nick looked genuinely worried and still traumatized.

"You can take the bed with us, it's big enough for three." I don't know if Clay was just being sarcastic, but Nick looked like he approved.

"Uhh, I'm good, I'll take the floor." I cringed from the thought of sharing a bed with two men.

I'd actually happily take the sofa. But considering the fear of something happening to Clay and me not being there, I decided to go with the floor.

"Yeah, my back hurts so that would be nice." And looked like the ideal option for Nick was for me to just fuck off and let the two of them share a bed.

"Aww, we're gonna cuddle!" And judging by Clay's voice, I was just out there third wheeling.

"Yeah, but don't get hard again, please." Nick was still strongly scarred from the previous events.

"I never lost an erection as quickly before as when I saw you." There goes the argument again.

They tried to help me with the sheets and pillows but all they succeeded in was scolding each other. I wasn't sure how much more I could take this chaos from them, so I had to scream at them to shut up.

"Did any of you call George in the last few hours?" I interrupted.

"No, I don't wanna get blamed and yelled on again." Clay frowned, apparently still pissed from what happened earlier.

"I called him when the plane landed." Nick on the other hand sounded neutral.

"Call him now," I looked at Clay who desperately tried to avoid the eye contact, but when our eyes met, he acted surprised, "Yeah, I'm talking to you."

As much as he didn't want to call, I still forced him to. Blaming George for getting worried and overreacting a bit after finding out everything wasn't as bad as he thought he was wasn't fair. If anything, he tried his best to help, and sending Nick here wasn't even a bad turn of events.

And from the way George picked up immediately, I could tell he was waiting for the call. Clay turned on the camera to include Nick in the call too.

"Look who decided to call." George wasn't doing us a favor by starting off with a blaming voice.

"I'll hang up if you continue acting like a salty bitch." And Clay wasn't doing a good job either.

"Did you just call me a bitch?" The british accent somehow made it sound funnier than it should have been.

"A salty one too." Nick was just adding fuel to the fire.

At one point it got too much for me and I had to go take one of Clay's pills to help my headache. All of them were so loud and all over the place.

And after washing the pill down with some water, I hid all of the medicine in a drawer so that Patches wouldn't have access to them and went back to the room.

It's crazy how a few minutes can change the topic of their conversation so dramatically.

"Wait, if Nick stays there for a few days I might actually come and visit all three of you!" George's voice sounded nothing like the one he had in the beginning of the call.

"Yes! And we can also have the best time of our lives without worrying about our ballsacks getting frozen like we did in the UK."

And I wouldn't call it a day if Nick didn't end it with something hilarious.