Gage Pov:

I wake up in the dark in a puddle of drool, my lips glued to the pillow. Oh yeah, I'm at Roy's house. Yesterday's events go through my mind in quick succession but even faster through my body. Not. Going. To. Throw up!

So much for that. One look at the sea-themed decorations in the kid's washroom has me recalling my sea sickness from a rescue on a yacht a few days ago. What a week!

Feeling like I'm walking the plank on that damned yacht with a thousand gallons of chili churning like an ocean in my belly I make my way toward the kitchen where a dim light beckons. The smell of bacon on top of the fact that people who feel like I do right now really shouldn't go towards the light has me turning on my heels quickly.

I think there's another chili bean in my nose now…

I grab my toothbrush from my shaving kit someone has so graciously placed on the sea shell laden shelf (try saying that ten times fast) and brush what's left of my teeth. I try to drag a comb through my hair, give up and just step into the shower. Reaching up with, what do you know … ocean breezes shampoo, I withdraw my hand from my scalp with a gasp. There's something stuck there. Images of tick infested hippies Dr. Morton told me about gag me but I man up and reach back up to my scalp. I'm a paramedic for Pete's sake! I take a deep breath, inhaling water, and ocean breezes and choke slightly. I grasp the engorged little bugger and pull with all my might only to have my arm fling back and crack my elbow against the … who puts a lobster trap in a bathroom! The damned thing must have been full and ready to drop off to seek a new victim. I fling it from me hoping it would go down the drain but there it is … at the bottom of the tub, too fat to get past the metal stopper.

I reach down into my shaving kit for a pair of tweezers … no I don't tweeze my eyebrows, they're for splinters. I'm a fireman, we get splinters! I sneak up on the bobbing biter and with a quick pluck, it's safely incarcerated between two metal pincers. Take that bug! For a minute I stand staring at it through the thick steam feeling like Davy who just defeated Goliath … well, what he has in the way of being small he makes up for in sheer Ewwwww! Blood sucking little … which reminds me of Vampire Dixie last night for very different reasons. It was all I could do not to stare at her but there's no way I'm going to incur Doctor Brackett's wrath, if I ever get bit by a tick again and don't notice it, he might let it eat me. Besides, after the last bite of chilli I couldn't really see straight anyway so how could I have possibly stared at Dixie's … um, fangs?

I drop the tick still trapped in my tweezers into the sink and pour half a bottle of shampoo into my palm only to reach up with my aching elbow to find … ohmygodohmygodohmygod there must be ten ticks on my head! I scream like a little girl, trying to keep my feet off the damned things as they fall, fully engorged red with blood into the bubbly water that is now accumulating because they're blocking the drain. This is worse than Psycho!

XXXX

"Johnny, you okay in there?" Roy calls through the door. But I can't answer because I used too much shampoo and the foam is up over my head now. Gah, where are the ticks? They could be anywhere, swimming their way up through the steam and bubbles. I clamp my mouth and any other orifices firmly shut now picturing scenes from The Thing and Star Trek where brain eating bugs crawl out of people's ears. I fling the shower curtain open in panic, forgetting to step up over the lip of the tub. I grasp at the plastic figure printed on the plastic curtain but she lets me down and I slide over the edge of the tub and into the bathroom door. The door opens slightly, bubbles, steam and …. ticks escaping into the hallway … toward the children!

"Roy, save yourself! Get the kids out of the house! They're coming!"

"Uh, Johnny, what are you talking about?" Roy asks in that way he has when we're rescuing a kid whose head is stuck in a railing or something.

"Ticks! Dozens of 'em!" I yell sticking my head out around the door just as Roy bends over and catches a fat red one that's tried to use the wave of bubbles of soap as a raft to storm the carpet beaches of the bedrooms down the hall.

My stomach turns over as Roy squishes it between his forefinger and thumb. I swipe my hands over my eyes and slam the door shut so more ticks don't get out but I have to be sick … the guts oozing all over his hands like that … Gah!

The toilet's somewhere in the corner through the bubbles and I find it just in time to wretch, aided by the fact that I've just stepped on yet another huge tick, it's guts squishing through my toes.

"John, you should have waited 'til morning to shower. You're still drunk. Come on out and I'll get you something for the nausea. I'm afraid you're gonna fall again and even if you don't you'll end up on a world of hurt if Joanne sees this mess before I can clean it up."

How can Roy be thinking about my nausea when as we speak ten or more ticks are headed straight for his family! Nope, eight, Roy killed one and I killed one … no two, I shudder as I wipe my second victim's guts from my big toe. We can do this, we can win. We're outnumbered, sure, but we're not outranked.

"Okay burp Roy, just lemme put some boxers on in case they climb my legs. No bug takes that route with me!"

"Roy, what is John doing in the bathroom dressed as the Little Mermaid and why are my carpets soaked?" comes Joanne's voice as I hit my elbow again and stifle the cuss I was about to deliver.

"Joanne, it's women and children first!" I gurgle through the bubbles. I forgot to turn the taps off but it's a small price to pay as I think some of the ticks have drowned. "Get yourself and the kids as far away from here as possible! Ticks!" I wipe some steam from the full length mirror just long enough to catch a glimpse of a coconut bra and green, scaly tail … on me. I drop the shower curtain in revulsion. The ticks will think I'm weak dressed like that!

"I'm going back to bed," Joanne says and that's probably smart. This is a job for men!

I put my boxers on.

"Okay, Roy, on the count of three, I'm going to open the door and sneak out, then we'll shut it real quick and lock 'em in here. Just like containing a fire, eh?"

"Sure, sounds like a plan, Junior," Roy says in that same tone he used before.

As I spin and turn the doorknob a wave of vertigo assaults me and I fall out into the hallway. Roy helps me up by my elbows but I wince in pain. Damn, yet another tick.

"Get it off, quick," I say bravely turning my elbow toward his eyes for inspection and splattering his nose with bubbles in the process.

XXXX

Roy's pov:

Johnny's still drunk. Go figure I didn't even get a hotdog last night because of the unanticipated crowds causing a sell out of everything and after watching Johnny throw up chili I wasn't going to touch that stuff for a very long time. The smoke detector alerts me to my burning bacon, a midnight snack I tried to reward myself with.

"Good thinking! Alarms to alert the citizens!" Johnny slurs as I wipe the bubbles from my nose and ease him to a sitting position while I step over him to turn off the taps in the bathroom and open a few windows as Joanne pads down the steps looking to me for confirmation that the fort hasn't been invaded like Johnny is claiming. She herds Chris and Jen back to bed.

When I come back from the kitchen, John's head is lolling on his chest, he's soaking wet in his boxers, a pair of tweezers poised like a tiny sword in his slackened fingers.

"I think they drank all my blood," John complains miserably.

I try not to laugh.

"I'm dehydrated from blood loss, my heart is racing, I'm dizzy. I think they killed me, 'm gonna miss you, Pally…" he trails off with a sad salute.

This has to stop and I can't get through to him.

I pick up one of the red soldiers from the floor, it's covered in bubbles. I rinse it under the tap and raise it to my mouth as John's eyes widen. I take a bite.

In retrospect that wasn't nice. When John's finished losing the rest of his stomach contents I pat him on the shoulder.

"Uh, Roy," he slurs. "You kin burp call off the attack, I was attacked by kid-kidney beans."

I want to be mad. I really do but as I pluck out yet another kidney bean from his mop of hair all I can do is laugh. I leave him in the hallway as I use every towel we own to sop up some of the water and soap. I save one for the warrior, slayer of kidney beans and use it to dry his now kidney bean free hair a bit. He reaches up to protest but his elbow's really swollen and part of me hopes he won't remember any of this in the morning. But then again it would make a great story to tell the guys…

I help my partner back to his bed and plunk him down, propping pillows behind his back. When I return with the first aid kit to examine his elbow, he's already asleep. Joanne peaks in.

"The kids are back to sleep," she whispers seeing that our guest is also sleeping.

John's elbow isn't broken, just badly bruised. He doesn't wake when I wrap it and place it across his chest. Joanne brushes a fringe of hair back from his face fondly."

"Um, Roy, I think Johnny's got a kidney bean stuck up his nose," Joanne says, leaning down so she can see better.

"What? I just took one out of his nose after he slipped and poured that whole pot of chili over himself. I grab the tweezers and pull the offending object out of my partner's nose. He's clean now; I'm letting him sleep it off.

"Is he going to be alright?" Joanne asks looking slightly guilty for having inflicted at least a little bit of John's misery in spooning him chili at the cook off.

I'm sure I'm just paranoid but I listen to my partner's chest to make sure his lungs are clear and no tick/ beans have been aspirated or anything. His pulse is fine, BP fine, and he's firing on one cylinder but that's all he needs while he's sleeping.

"He's fine, he's just hammered," I shrug though I won't leave him alone until I'm sure he's done retching. And I guess I won't try to cook any more bacon as it seemed to have triggered more sickness, after all, he did slay a kidney bean for me and greater love hath no man than he who would lay down his life to … well you know what I mean.

Joanne rolls her eyes and throws me a blanket as I sit in the chair and crack open a book left on the nightstand, ironically entitled The Tick That Ate Toledo. Chet's name is printed on the inside cover. Oh, now I get it! Well played Phantom...

A/N Have a bit of writer's block at the moment so I traveled back in time through my stories to try to find my groove. I didn't find it ... but I tried and even a mild smile is better than nothing on days where one is hard to find.