time to take your medicine {matthew!}

[MATTHEW PETERSON]

Difficult as ever, Matt shook his head as Addison suggested making some tea. "Gross. I don't want tea," He made a face. In truth, the seventeen year-old had never actually tried the stuff (it was the sort of thing he'd always dumped into fake potted plants whenever Michelle tried to push it his way), and just plain didn't intend to start now. It smelled funny. Worse than coffee, and probably tasted like dirty leaves. It had to, right, if that was what it was made of? The idea of drinking the stuff made Matt almost as sick at the idea of taking medicine. But only almost. He sincerely hopes Addison wasn't going to try and shove both of those down his throat; if that was the case, he decided, she wouldn't be staying for much longer.

Shrugging, Matt stared up at the ceiling again, contemplating a way to explain exactly how stars could get annoying. It was probably in the same way a little brother could get annoying, he imagined, but having never had one, he couldn't even be quite sure of that. And besides, Matt found it near impossible to imagine a younger brother being all that obnoxious. He bit his lip for a moment before deciding to just go with whatever came to mind in his explanation; that usually worked out alright. "Well if they kept, you know, winking at me all the time," he made an attempt to illustrate the act of stars winking by waving his fingers a bit in the air, "It'd be awfully bright, if they were so close. Like a strobe light or whatever. And then," he shrugged nonchalantly, "I'd blow them out." it made perfect sense to him. Whether or not Addison understood a word he'd just said was a complete and utter mystery to him, but he didn't mind so much. She usually got it, anyway.

...If she believed him, then why was she making him drink the stuff...? Matt's eyes narrowed slightly as his fingers clenched tighter around the thermometer; he glanced between Addison's face at the instrument in his hand for about thirty seconds, glaring. Slowly, he began to ease his way backwards even more, until his entire back was pressed hard against the cool surface of the wall. He didn't flinch as Addison touched his forehead, although his jaw clenched slightly. She felt awfully cold. But that had to be her fault, right? He didn't have a fever. He was perfectly fine. "Nope. No fever." his voice came out scratchy and he shook his head slightly.

"Prove it."
"W-what?" he said suddenly, although the words had been more than clear. Never taking his glare off Addison, Matt wrenched his hand back from the nightstand in the most defiant way he could muster (which was quite extraordinary, as he'd had so much practice) and held it in front of him for a good half minute or so. "Fine." he said, unable as ever to resist any sort of challenge. He would win this one though, of course. He always won. "If I'm right, I don't have to take that stuff," even without saying the word, it was more than obvious how much he detested the thing resting in Addison's back pocket. Opening his mouth, Matt placed the thermometer inside and waited, still glaring, for his fate to be decided.

[wendy]

"Well.” Addison sounded a little exasperated, as if to say ‘sorry for worrying about your well-being.’ She quite liked tea, having drank it nearly every morning before school and having a nice warm mug waiting for her when she got home. It was particularly nice during winter time. Had Matthew ever had tea? You couldn’t really say ‘gross’ to something you’d never tried before. While Addison disliked changed, she didn’t mind trying new things. She always gave something at least one chance. Otherwise, she probably wouldn’t be friends with Matthew right now, finding him to be much too bad an influence on her. As it were, though, she wasn’t like that.

Addison peered up at the ceiling, imagining it covered in real stars. Even just visualizing it was too bright for her. He definitely had a point. “Winking?” she repeated. “Why have I never thought of describing it like that?” It was much more creative than anything she’d ever said. Then, again, stars weren’t in her stories an awful lot. Still, if she ever needed to describe stars, she had a much better way to do so. Addison nodded, looking away from the ceiling. “That makes sense, then.” It would get especially frustrating while trying to sleep or watch a movie. It wouldn’t be all that fun, though, if once blown out, that was it. If only they could be relit…

If she could hardly get him to take his temperature, there was no way she’d get him to take the medicine. It was hardly worth the effort, but she wanted just as badly to win this as he did. She wasn’t sure when it’d become a challenge (okay, she was) or why, even. Luckily, she’d mostly grown immune to his glares throughout the years so that act wasn’t working right now. He scooted back until his back was flat against the wall. She shook her head a little, waiting. If this was a game of patience, it would easily go to her. Finally, he stuck the thermometer in his mouth. “The normal temperature is 98 degrees.” Roughly. She didn’t want to get technical. After waiting a minute or so, Addison took the thermometer and checked the temperature. “You have a fever.”

[MATTHEW PETERSON]

Matt shrugged again, not really sure himself why he'd thought of calling whatever it was that stars did "winking." It was the first thing that had come to his mind, was all, and the first thing was usually the only thing Matt ever went with, for actually thinking before speaking took altogether far too much time. At least he'd made sense. When one thought about it, stars really did sort of wink. He was quite proud of himself for thinking up a description like that which had never occurred to Addison, and it showed in the momentary flicker across his eyes. "Donno. But they do wink, don't they...?" he pondered it for a moment before shaking the thought from his head.


He hated her for this. Hated her for telling him he had to take medicine. For telling him he had a fever. For making him take his temperature and for that knowing look on her face that made him want to kick her out and for the storybooks she'd brought that were literally the only things keeping him from doing just that because no one could read aloud better than Addison. He hated her for coming here at all; and in a fleeting thought of desperation as he shoved the thermometer in his mouth, Matt silently wished she'd never responded to his text message at all. Which was almost a big a lie as his wanting to kick her out at all, but he thought it anyway. He just wouldn't say it out loud, or she'd probably storm off anyway. She shook her head and he wanted desperately to say something in order to avoid reading the blasted thing in his mouth, but that would have been cheating on this silent challenge and if there was one thing in the world which Matthew Peterson would not do, it was cheat. Especially not where Addison was involved.

Jaw set tightly, Matt did not cease in his glaring as Addison read the number on the thermometer. He was holding his breath. "No I don't. I-" he leaned forward to snatch the thing back from Addison's hand before looking at the number marked there. 100.2. Matt sat frozen for a moment, silently cursing out the piece of trash for being such an insufferable traitor. Finally, unable as ever to swallow his pride, he tossed the vile thing over the bed in Addison's direction, refusing to look at it any more. "It's broken, that's all."

[wendy]

Addison would have to pay more attention next time she looked at the night sky. Stars had never winked at her. Or perhaps they had and she just hadn’t noticed. Addison shrugged, “I suppose they do.” She certainly wasn’t going to tell him that she’d never seen stars winking. She just thought they sparkled up there and made constellations. Nonetheless, she was pleased to now have a better way to describe stars in her stories.

He probably hated her for this. Why, she probably would’ve hated for anybody telling her to take medicine (unless it had been her mother, of course). Addison was almost just waiting for him to kick her out. She was quite sure he wanted to, had it not been for perhaps her story books or maybe that she was willing to go back and forth to get him some more soup. Either way, he hadn’t kicked her out just yet. And she was going to make sure he took some medicine whether he liked it or not. Besides, this was orange flavored! At least it wasn’t just some vile tasteless sort. Even she refused to take that.

“Nonsense.” She told him, knowing he’d say such a thing. Of course it would be the thermometer’s fault. “It’s not going to be awful at all!” Her tone was now a mixture of reassuring, scolding, and persistence. Finally, she took the bottle from her back pocket, but kept it safely in her hands lest he snatch it away and throw it across the room. “It’s just a small capful and then you can drink some water.” The cap really was quite small and if younger children could handle it, Matthew certainly could. “Besides, it’s orange flavored. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”

[MATTHEW PETERSON]

Nonsense. Oh, how Matt loathed that word. Or how he loathed it when spoken at him, anyway. It was almost as bad as the phrase "act your age" as far as dismissive comments went, but only almost. And then there was her attempt at reassurance, and it only made Matt want to kick her out even more, but again he was reminded of the fact that she had made him feel a bit better, although that was mostly his doing anyway. He didn't answer her with more than another glare. Maybe if he didn't talk to her she'd just leave. Or give up. Yes, that was probably the best idea. Matt clenched his jaw even tighter and shook his head again, refusing even the offering of water, for that would have been giving in to the enemy's wishes, never mind the fact that it looked absolutely delicious sitting there on the nightstand, half full as it was.

Repressing the fleeting urge to leap up and snatch the bottle from Addison's hands, he instead scooted backwards another inch or so, as if by pressing himself further against the wall he might just disappear into it. His plan of silent suffering was going quite splendidly until Addison decided to go and ruin it all just then. "Orange?!" Matt's eyes might very well have leapt out of their sockets had he not frozen up for a good three seconds or so. "You did that on purpose, didn't you? Uh-uh. There's no way you're making me drink that stuff. No way. Especially not if it's orange flavored," shaking his head vigorously, Matt tried again to scoot further back on the bed, but found himself trapped. "Don't even try, Addie. I won't drink it," he added warningly, feeling around on the bed for something--anything--he could use to deflect whatever it was she was sending his way. Hands curling around a pillow Matt wrenched it into his lap, gripping the thing as if it was the last shield in the world.

[wendy]

If he thought just glaring at her would make her leave, he was dead wrong. In fact, it make her all the more insistent. It was probably a good thing that she could be stubborn when she needed to be. Addison felt he was making much too big a deal over this. Had he never taken medicine in his life? Surely, it couldn’t have been that terrible if he ever had. There was always something to drink it down with afterwards and if it meant getting better, how could you not take it? He kept scooting away from her, as if the wall would swallow him up and save him from this. While it would be incredibly cool if that did happen, she knew it wouldn’t so she resisted any story ideas that came from it (for now). Addison nodded a little, not quite sure why he was so surprised. “Did what on purpose?!” she asked, exasperated. As if she were to know that orange flavored medicine would be his least favorite kind! Oranges were delicious, so why wouldn’t medicine tasting like it be so as well? Then again, cherry medicine had never been as good as cherries. “What’s wrong with orange flavored?” Addison inquired, truly curious for she wanted to know herself. She rather liked the orange flavored medicine, more so than the cherry, anyhow.

Addison knew just how serious he was about this when he began to use a pillow as a shield. Also, just how sick he was because who would really find a pillow to make for a good shield? He would’ve been better off grabbing one of her—at this very thought, Addison stood quite suddenly and snatched her books from the nightstand. He was not going to use these against her, that was for sure. She left for the kitchen, setting them on the counter, hoping he wouldn’t do anything too extreme in the brief moment she wasn’t keeping an eye on him. He’d probably lock himself in the bathroom for all she knew. “Don’t you know me at all?” She asked, turning back to face him, leaning against the counter, arms folded over her chest, medicine still in hand. “I’m most certainly going to try because there’s no way I’m letting you stay sick for a week.” Or longer. Maybe she could threaten him with that. If she didn’t like being sick for a week, he definitely wouldn’t, right?

[MATTHEW PETERSON]

"You know." Matt narrowed his eyes reproachfully. With the sickly scratchiness to his voice, it was decidedly more menacing, and he liked the effect tremendously. "Made it orange flavored. You know it's the worst kind," how it was Addison would know this Matt actually had no idea, but he found himself firmly convinced that she was more than aware of this fact and was only trying to feed it to him now so she could watch him suffer. It sounded woefully un-Addison-like, but Matt entertained the thought nonetheless. "It's all...tangy. And...orange-y," Matt shook his head reproachfully as he made a face. Surely that would be enough of an explanation for her.

Moving the pillow in accordance to Addison's movements, matt never took his eyes off the bottle she held in her hand. Save for when she grabbed the books. It having never occurred to him to use such things as weaponry, it was not the loss of their potential to do damage which he found unnerving, but the idea that perhaps she was punishing him for not drinking the stuff. Shield instantly forgotten, Matt sat up ramrod straight as Addison removed the stories from their resting place; he leaned forward on the bed so that he was on all fours, that being the only position in which he could sort of view the kitchen. "Hey! What d'ya think you're doing?!" he exclaimed amidst a rather horrible voice crack. It was in the act of leaning forward even more to see exactly where she'd put the books (and if they were in her bag again, he swore he'd kill her) that Matt became slightly more tangled in his bed sheets than anticipated.

Trying to get a better view, Matt turned himself a bit to his left; this was his greatest mistake. In the act of twisting he'd managed to pull the sheets tighter around his legs so that when he pulled to move again, he instead found himself toppling over the side of the bed and onto the floor with a rather loud CRASH, and taking the entirety of his linens with him, all wrapped around his person in a manner far too bizarre to have been in any way intentional. He swore loudly as he attempted to right himself; the result only succeeded in tangling him further. By the time Addison had turned back around and begun speaking again, Matt was looking at her upside down and from the floor, a sort of sheepish grin having replaced the glares he'd been previously throwing her way. " 'Course I do. But I know me, and I know I won't stay--ow!" he yelped suddenly as he squirmed, a knot of bedcover having managed to stab its way rather painfully into his back.

[wendy]

Addison didn’t like when Matthew said ‘you know’ to her when she clearly had just expressed that she didn’t know. It was one tiny thing that annoyed her to no end, not that he knew because if he did, he’d probably use it against her. She shook her head. “The worst kind is grape.” This, she knew, for an absolute fact because she hated the grape kind as did her brothers and her roommate and even her father. Matthew clearly had never had grape flavored medicine if he was saying orange was the worst. His explanation for disliking it was hardly a good one. Of course it was tangy and orange-y. It was a citrus fruit, after all. “Oranges are supposed to be tangy.” She stated matter-of-factly, reading the instructions on the bottle. Oh… the dosage was different for children above the age of ten.

Addison had definitely not expected him to yell at her like that for taking the books. She gave him a surprised sort of glance before flipping through one of them. She gave a dejected sort of sigh. “Oh, it’s too bad I can’t read to you until you’ve taken some medicine.” Which was a complete and utter untruth. There was no way she was leaving this room without reading as least one story to him. Still, his reaction to her taking the books away was enough of one to show that he wasn’t kicking her out so long as she had them. “I’m just moving them,” she said innocently, “in case you had decided they would make good weapons against a bottle of medicine.” Addison rather hoped that he hadn’t thought of a such an awful thing. Books were quite sacred to her.

While she had half-expected for Matthew to lock himself in the bathroom, she had hardly expected for him to fall to the floor in a mess of sheets. She quite hurriedly set the medicine down on the counter and rushed over, dropping to her knees beside him. Addison couldn’t help but to make a tutting sound; how could one get themselves so hopelessly tangled up like this? She shook her head, going about trying to loosen the sheets. “Just because you’re you doesn’t mean sickness won’t last for a week.” Though she wouldn’t be surprised if he did spend less days being unwell than she normally did. Matthew was just lucky like that.

[MATTHEW PETERSON]

Matt gave Addison a very clear "You know nothing about medicine" sort of look before shaking his head. Grape. Grape was vomit-worthy at best, as was all medicine, but it was nothing compared to absolutely stomach-churning, sickening, filth that was the orange flavored kind. "That's not the point," he snapped rather quickly, although it was more of a defense mechanism than an attack, for he knew full well how right she was. It was no more than usual. "Oranges are gross," this was not entirely true, either. Matt actually quite enjoyed organges on occasion, and had probably eaten one or two in front of Addison, but there was something about putting them in medicine (or putting anything into medicine, for that matter) which made it instatly the most disgusting stuff on the face of that planet. And that was all there was to it. Matt felt absoutely no need for further explination, and in all honesty couldn'd quite see why Addison did.

Gosh, she was good. Matt raised one eyebrow as he assessed the situation, trying to decide if she really meant she wasn't going to read to him. She wouldn't do that...would she? He wasn't entirely sure. There was a part of him, the part that automatically assumed everyone in the world was there for his entertainment (it was a rather larger part of his being than most), that wanted to believe she was only pulling his leg; the other part of him, however--the tiny, more realistic part--thought she could very well be telling the truth. "You wouldn't." For a split second his face fell at the idea of such a plot, but he regained him composure quickly enough, whereupon a rather haughty look stole across his face. "I wouldn't need a book for that," although now she mentioned it, it was a rather good idea...the pillow looked rather flimsy in comparison, didn't it? He cleared his throat before the two words of praise could leave his mouth. Switching to his most innocent of voices, Matt looked at Addison in a manner that was almost pitiful, and said "You could bring them back, you know. If you wanted..." It was too bad his eyes could never seem to hide the mischief lurking beneath the surface, even sick as he was.

Matt continued to squirm in the sheets even as Addison hurried over, only stopping once she'd begun to tug at his bonds herself. "Doesn't mean you know it will, either," he replied a tad haughtily, especially considering his current position. Yanking his hand free from one of the folds of fabric, Matt swatted it her way in an annoyed manner, grumbling, "I don't need help," as he began to tug harder on what appeared to be a knot of bed spread near his left knee. This only succeeded in tightening the thing even more. Anyone else could probably have seen that coming.

[wendy]

Well, they could argue until nightfall about which medicine was the worse (grape) but that wasn’t what Matthew needed right now. He needed medicine and to get untangled from the bed sheets and a good night’s sleep. Addison let the argument end there, assuming he’d probably think he’d won since she hadn’t answered; she didn’t care as much as she normally would. You could hardly argue over which was more terrible as all medicine was terrible. Had she spoken it aloud, Addison was sure they could at least come to that compromise. Still, she stayed silent, still tugging at the sheets. Besides, arguing couldn’t be good for one who was sick, anyhow. Addison shook her head. “I wouldn’t.” She could hardly lie about her story telling. That would be an offense to her books. If she brought them somewhere with her, one could always expect a story. She never left without reading at least one. Addison gave him a small smile, glad to know that he wouldn’t have used her books as a weapon or shield. That was reassuring.

Having been struck with a rather brilliant idea (if she may say so herself), Addison stood quickly, bringing on a bout of head rush. Wobbling on her feet a little, Addison soon steadied herself and returned to the kitchen. She couldn’t help but to be a little amused that Matthew would probably think she was bringing the books back. No, no. That wasn’t it. And he certainly wouldn’t be pleased to see that it was, instead, the bottle of medicine she was grabbing. Snatching it from the counter, she left the books and returned to Matthew. She knelt beside him again, holding onto the bottle with both hands, sitting far away enough to where he couldn’t reach. He was so tangled up anyway, she wasn’t sure if he could. “Well, when you do need my help, it’ll come after you’ve taken your medicine.” Addison felt this was a genius way to go about it because she was quite positive he couldn’t get out of this mess without her help. She watched him a little smugly, waiting for an answer.

[MATTHEW PETERSON]

He really wished he hadn't told her not to help him. It was as if the minute he'd swatted away Addison's hand the sheets had taken on a life of their own, become a vicious monster intent on swallowing him whole, and were now battling mercilessly to claim their sickly prize. Plus, he only had one free hand with which to fight the thing. It was a sticky situation, to say the least. Matt grumbled a bit to himself as he tugged this way and that on the covers, loosening in some places that only tightened others further. For a moment he completely forgot Addison was even in the room, so engrossed was he in disentagling himself from his captor. Until she had to ruin it all and stand up.

Matt flopped back onto the ground with a frustrated sigh, staring up at Addison from beneath the fringes of hair that had flopped back over his eyes. He made no effort to move them, as his free hand was currently fiddling with a knot just below his right kneecap. Silently, he watched as she turned to head back into the kitchen, attemping (unsuccessfully) to flop himself over for a better view of what exactly she was doing. Probably going to get books. Or....no. She wouldn't. Overall, Matt's silence lasted about twelve seconds. "Hey! What'cha doing?" he croaked in an attempt to sound as casual as possible. The question went unanswered, however, as his worst fear (of the moment) was realised. As she knelt down to state the terms of the inevitable stand-off, Matt couldn't help but continue to glare some more. She was evil. Positively evil. He chewed the proposition over for a good three minutes, wieghing the cons (he could see no pros, as he was almost certain he'd be able to get himself out of this mess evenutally) whilst tugging on the sheets some more.

That was when an idea struck him. A devilish smirk began to spread slowly over his face as he turned to look Addison in the eye so as to asses the likelihood of her trying to swindle him. After heaving a rather discontented sigh, Matt spoke a bit slower than usual; that way none of his bargain could go unnoticed. "Well, if I drink it...without complaining...you'll read me three stories," it wasn't a question because he knew full well there was no other option. He only hoped Addison felt the same way. "And you've got to let me pick them," he added as an afterthought, refusing to be stuck with some story about some stupid princess trapped in a tower because she was too pathetic to climb down.

[wendy]

Addison rather disliked having to sit aside and not help. It was in her nature to help, whether or not somebody had told her not to. While she sometimes listened to Matthew after he snapped at her to stop, she would eventually take up the activity and continue. She was quite sure he was hopeless without her. Addison was quite sure he didn’t think this; in fact, he probably that she was hopeless without him. Their opinions could differ so sometimes. Of course Matthew would find this to be positively evil of her. She would find it to be downright unfair herself if somebody pulled this on her. Then again, she was making a deal of sorts. Besides, she’d already made him soup and cleaned his room. As if that wasn’t enough to get him to take his medicine, she would have to help him out of this tangled mess after he’d taken the medicine. He didn’t appreciate all she did for him as much as he should have. Addison shook her head, finding this all to be rather obnoxious. She probably would’ve been better off ignoring his text message. She could’ve finished her math homework by now, at least.

What kind of a bargain was that? Addison gave him a look, her eyebrows rising a bit. For a moment, she just watched him, before leaning back and laughing. She would’ve read him every story in both books. Of course, that wouldn’t actually work because then she’d be in his dorm past curfew and that wasn’t allowed. Still, if he only wanted three stories, she supposed he would only get three. It made her life easier. Instead of reading more, like she’d thought she would have, she could finish three in no time and then get back to her dorm to finish her schoolwork. Also, what was the bit about not complaining? Addison shook her head again (slightly amused by the thought of him thinking she was saying no to this) before answering. “You most certainly can complain. It’s medicine, for goodness sake!” Addison shot a disgusted look to the bottle. “I’ll even still read you three stories.” Addison paused, taking the cap off of the bottle. “Your choice of course.” Addison hated having to do this to him, but there was no other way he’d take it, she was sure.

[MATTHEW PETERSON]

Matt couldn't help it. He stared at Addison for at least a minute, frozen in his scrutinizing of her face; she had to be joking. What sort of deal was that? She was going to make him take the medicine....but he was allowed to complain....get read three stories...and get out of whatever mess she clearly believed him to be in? It had to be a trick. Life didn't come that simply, particularly Matt's. And quite frankly, he wasn't too fond of when it did, which was why he'd made a point for the past thirteen years or so not to follow any and all rules or regulations he didn't create deemed unworthy. She was probably trying to trick him. That was the only explanation. And if she thought he was going to fall for some stupid trick like that, or that he was too much of a wimp to take medicine without complaining, or was jealous just because she couldn't take the stuff without crying or something (yes, that had to be the case. It was all becoming very clear to him now), well then she had another thing coming.

Once the plan had been properly formulated in his head, Matt ceased narrowing his eyes just long enough to look innocent and grateful. "Fine. But...I want four stories," he decided as a sudden addition to the plot, unable as ever to stick to what he'd planned even a mere ten seconds before.

There was no expressing just how badly Matt wanted to take that bottle of near vomit-worthy nastiness and chuck it clear across the room. Or out the window. Or down the toilet. Unfortunately, one of his hands was quite literally tied, and he seriously doubted Addison would have been quite as eager to read to him if he threw her medicine all over the room she'd worked so hard to clean. Plus, Matt wasn't too sure he wanted to handle such a large quantity of the stuff, even if it was just to dispose of it. He gave a resigned sort of swallow, hardly aware of just how difficult his bloated sense of pride made his life, and held his free hand out for Addison to put the medicine in. "Well, what're you waiting for? Get on with it," he snipped rather grumpily. There was no telling just how long he was going to be able to hold in the urge to complain, after all...

[wendy]

Matthew stared at her for about a minute, evidently trying to figure her out. Was there something wrong with what she’d said? Surely it wouldn’t be a problem that she’d agreed so readily to this? Right? He should be pleased that she was agreeing to this. Addison watched him with an amused expression until he’d finally replied. Four stories? That was fine. She didn’t mind agreeing to that, either. Addison shrugged, “alright. Four stories it is… I get to choose the last one, though.” She gave him a smirk. It told him that it was only fair that she got to pick at least one story. It also dared him to say no. It was hardly fair that she didn’t get to pick any stories.

Addison carefully poured the medicine into the cap. There were two lines, one for children and another for anyone older. Perhaps she’d be kind and give him just a tad less than required… Addison stopped pouring halfway between the two lines. “There.” She wouldn’t tell him that she was sort of cheating. She wasn’t sure if he’d still continue to complain or if he’d ask her why she couldn’t have poured a little less even though she’d already done so. Addison handed the cap to Matthew, watching him carefully. She wouldn’t be surprised if he threw it across the room and then attacked her to get rid of the rest of the stuff. Even if he was still tangled up in the sheets.

Addison stood and wandered around Matthew to the night stand where she set the bottle of medicine down and grabbed the glass of water. Returning to her spot in front of the lord of sickliness, she held the glass out for him so he’d be able to chug what was left of it the moment he’d finished taking his medicine at last.

[MATTHEW PETERSON]

"Fine. Just as long as you pick a good one," Matt nodded in agreement. Anything she read would be fine, really, just as long as there wasn't too much of that kissing and princess stuff. He hated those kinds of stories. Although knowing her, Addison was likely to pick exactly that kind of thing just to see if he'd complain about it...but he wouldn't. Just like he wouldn't complain about the medicine. He really hated giving her that much satisfaction.

Watching her as though she was laying out his death sentence, Matt gulped loudly as Addison poured the sickly-orange colored gunk into a cup. He couldn't help himself--he gave a little gasp of horror as the liquid rose a bit over the first line. What was she trying to do, give him more than she was supposed so? It had to be a trick. She wanted him to asky why, to admit that he didn't want to take the stuff, beg for less, offer up his pride in exchange for a smaller dosage; well, if she thought him that weak, she had another thing coming-- "Really? Did you have to give me that much?" the words came out before he'd finished his mental speech, and he silently cursed himself immediately after saying them.

As if to make up for the outburst, Matt snatched the cup from Addison's hands in a flash, although he froze with it halfway to his mouth. His lip visibly curled as he stared down at the stuff. He shouldn't have looked at it. He knew he shouldn't have looked at it. If there was one thing you were supposed to never ever under any circumstances when it came to medicine, it was look at it. He imagined suddenly that the stuff was churning, transforming into some sort of liquid monster intent on causing him more misery than sickness itself; but mayb eif he stared at it for long enough...maybe then it would settle down? And stare was just what Matt did.

So intent was he on glaring at the cup in his hand that he didn't even notice Addison had left her place beside him until she reappeared with the glass of water. At least she was doing something right...Seeing the half-filled glass as nothing short of a lifeline, Matt put on the bravest grimace he could muster and put the cup to his lips, taking a long swig of the stuff until it was good and gone. Except for the aftertaste.

He shuddered almost triumphantly before throwing the cup to the corner of the room, as far away from him as possible. "BLECH. Here here here-- Give it here!" he sputtered obnoxiously before deciding Addison was taking far too long. Again, Matt grabbed the cup (although different, thankfully) from her hand before dowing it all in several large swallows. He shook his head at the subsequent brain freeze, plopping the empty glass onto the floor with a loud thunk.

Looking up at Addison with a cocky, told-you-I-could-do-it sort of smile on his face, Matt cleared his throat importantly before making his demands. "Alright, now it's you're turn. Get me outta here-- I want my stories."