Chapter Text
The smell of coffee, which normally could lure Kyle out of bed, sent him running to the bathroom to puke his guts out. For the third day in a row.
To be fair, his roommate Maria made excellent coffee. She'd been a barista at Starbucks for the last two years, and on a normal day Kyle was more than happy to take advantage of her skills.
"Sit." Maria said, when Kyle finally emerged from the bathroom. She looked less than intimidating in her fluffy purple housecoat and panda bear slippers, but she was glaring at him staunchly enough that he obeyed her anyway.
Maria plunked a box down in front of him, tapping one acrylic nail on the cardboard threateningly.
Kyle looked down at the pregnancy test in front of him and back to Maria.
"I think it's time to test, babe." She said, pointing the knife she'd been using to retrieve cream cheese out of the tub with at him.
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Kyle said, avoiding making eye contact with the pregnancy test and his roommate by looking at something on the floor.
"Bullshit. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Do you want a bagel?"
Truthfully, the idea of cream cheese made Kyle want to scurry back to the bathroom. But a plain bagel would probably be fine...
"Only if they aren't-"
"They aren't the jalapeno kind, you baby. Are sesame seeds to spicy for you?"
Kyle wanted to tell her that literally everything was too spicy for him, the way it was now coming out of his body via one avenue or another.
"I... Like spicy food. Just... Ugh-" He lost the battle with his stomach and slid off his stool so he could dry heave into the sink.
"So you're going to tell me you're fine?" She asked, watching him warily. "Because between the two of us, I'm the one who was drunk last night, but you're the one who looks like shit."
"Thanks." Kyle stuck his mouth under the faucet so he could rinse the gross taste from his tongue.
"You should test."
Kyle eyed the box on the counter like it was a venomous snake.
"Give me one good reason why you shouldn't, just to put your mind at ease."
"Because then it will make it real." Kyle snapped before snatching the test off the counter and darting back to the bathroom.
Kyle resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Mainly because it would make him puke, but also because he was at work and you couldn't just roll your eyes at people when you needed them to tip you well.
What was he doing here again? Kyle could accept that Eric Bennett was here at the Kingfisher to keep his friend Scott hunter company. It had nothing to do with Kyle. But that would mean ignoring the way Eric's gaze kept landing on Kyle as he worked. And it meant not engaging with the way he frowned when Kyle flirted with other customers, even as Eric fiddled with his fucking wedding ring.
Kyle was all too familiar with men like Eric. Men who liked to spend their evenings away from their wives so they could scratch and itch they would never dare speak a word about to any of the people in their lives who actually mattered to them. Men who were happy to get off with Kyle, men who maybe even claimed to want more than the secrets and lies. They were the same men who walked away when those evenings turned up an inconvenient consequence. An accident.
Fuck men like that. Kyle had wasted too much of his life, his body, and his heart on them. Eric could go ahead and ogle him, Kyle wasn't biting.
...Especially when he kept having to run to the back room to gag into a plastic baggy. Because whoever called it morning sickness was a fucking fraud.
"You should come over to the table to say hi." Kip was saying to him over the bar.
"I'm busy."
"You're in a mood tonight."
"I'm fine. I'm just hungry. And I probably need to get laid."
"Good thing you work in a bar that has both food and horny men."
Kyle smiled at Kip, even though he knew it didn't reach his eyes. The food here was good, but so greasy it made his stomach want to crawl out of his mouth just being around the smell. He'd been popping mints all day to try and combat the nausea that he just couldn't fucking shake. A little bit ago he'd managed to eat part of a chicken tender, but he really wasn't confident it would stay down.
"Let me check on my tables," Kyle said, "And then I guess I'll come say hi."
As much as he tried to avoid it, he couldn't get away with skirting around his friend's table any longer.
"Good evening, boys. Kip, if you've finished the lap dance, your booth in the corner wants another round."
Kip slid out of Scott's lap and stuck his tongue out at Kyle as he went.
"Hey Scott, Eric. And I don't believe I've had the pleasure." He addressed the third man in the booth, who'd come in sometime around when Kyle had been struggling to eat crumbs of fried chicken a bit ago. He was gorgeous. Tall, blonde, slavic bone structure. If he hadn't been a hockey player, he could have made a hell of a model.
"Kyle, this is Ilya Rozanov. Ilya, this is our friend Kyle." Scott introduced as Kyle reached across the table to shake the man's hand.
"Kyle." Ilya squeezed his hand and smiled. It felt like the handshake lasted a bit longer than was necessary, but the look on Eric's face made it worth it.
"What can I get you, sexy?" Kyle asked in his best flirty tone.
"I would like a Scott Hunter. Please."
"There's one Scott Hunter in the booth next to you." Kyle said saucily. Because that joke never got old.
Ilya grinned, and Scott groaned. "Just bring him a beer, Kyle. He's being an asshole."
Kyle looked between them, his stomach starting to roll around uncomfortably. The chicken tender was going to make a surprise reappearance on their tabletop if they didn't order quickly.
"I want to try it. Bring one for Bennett too."
"I don't-" Eric was looking at him and frowning.
"I can make it without alcohol." Kyle offered. He pressed his lips together and tried not to look seasick as he started to get the mouth sweats.
"Yes! A virgin Scott Hunter."
"Jesus fucking Christ." Scott grumbled.
"You don't have to," Eric said to Kyle, misinterpreting his nausea. "I'm fine."
"I never got to make you that mocktail last week. Let me show you what I'm good at."
And then, because he was going to throw up right the fuck now Kyle turned on his heel and walked as quickly as he could to the restroom. He dropped his serving tray and the order ticket in front of Kip and his corner booth on his way. Kip startled and looked back at their table, meeting Scott's eyes in a silent question.
Later, after an embarrassing long time spent contemplating half of a barely digested chicken tender after it forcibly left his body, Kyle slouched his way back to the bar. His head hurt, his stomach hurt, and he felt... exhausted didn't even begin to cover it.
He stood at the bar for all of a minute before he saw Eric making his way towards him at the bar.
"Oh, hey." Kyle said. It wasn't really very warm sounding.
"Ilya wants a beer, and I wanted to stretch my legs." Eric offered.
"What kind of beer?"
"I might need to rely on your expert opinion for that."
Kyle blinked. He couldn't tell if he was delirious from dehydration or if he was actually hearing Eric attempt to flirt with him. The result was a kind of blank stare, and Kyle couldn't be bothered to check himself if it was rude or not.
Eric slid his elbow off the bar, his face falling.
"I like the red ale." Kyle offered, sighing.
"Okay. I'll go with that, then."
Kyle grabbed a glass and used the sprayer to dust it. Then he wordlessly filled it with ale. Eric awkwardly accepted it from him, but didn't immediately move to return to the table. Why was he still there? No, no. He needed to get his shit together. Just because he'd had bad experiences, one of which was still pretty fresh, didn't mean every older man he met was going to be the same kind of person. Kip had told him that Eric could use a friend, and it was entirely too possible that Kyle was projecting. Eric looked completely lost, holding someone else's beer and trying to think of something to say that would make Kyle be a little friendlier. He decided to throw him a bone.
"Do you have the day off tomorrow?"
Eric's face lit up, and Kyle's stomach flopped around some more.
"I do."
"And how does Eric Bennett spend his days off?"
"I do more intensive yoga, read a little. I'm also going to visit my friend's gallery. She's preparing a new exhibit and wants to show me the paintings in advance. I'll be on the road for the opening."
Kyle was aware of a rushing sound in his ears, and suddenly he was having trouble focusing on Eric's words. He tried to nod along with the conversation, but with the way his ears were ringing, he was having trouble making anything out.
"Are you okay?" Kip stopped in front of them on his way by. He was staring at Kyle in alarm.
"Kyle?" Eric asked, clueing in. "Holy fuck, you're pale as a sheet."
"Kip, come back here please." Kyle said through gritted teeth. He tried to breathe slowly and deliberately through his nose.
"Yeah, yeah. Why? What do you need?"
"Catch me." Kyle told him.
"What?"
Kyle's knees gave out, and only Kip's panicked lunge as he came around the bar kept him from hitting his head on the way down.
"Tell me no one saw that." Kyle groaned, unwilling to open his eyes. He didn't want to see what was awaiting him on the other side of his sudden swoon.
"What? Oh my god, Scott! He's coming around." Kip's worried voice greeted him.
"Oh, okay. Yeah, we've got contact with him. He's coming around." Scott's voice filtered in.
"The ambulance is going to be here in a few minutes, just stay still." Kip said, squeezing his hand.
"Ambulance?!" Kyle's eyes shot open.
"Yeah, babe. You hit the floor and we couldn't get you to wake back up."
"Kyle?" Eric's voice came. He was standing at the end of the bar, arms crossed and brow furrowed in worry.
"I'm fine, don't worry." Kyle said. "I do feel like I'm going to throw up again though. Hand me that ice bucket."
"Again? Kyle, you've been sick? Why are you working?!" Kip asked, his voice rising in pitch.
"Don't get hysterical. I'm fine."
"Fine? Fine?!" Kip slid right past hysterical to nuclear. "You think having a 'diva down' moment on shift after-"
He was interrupted by Kyle gagging spectacularly into the ice bucket. Kip's eyes widened.
"You've been throwing up all night, haven't you? I thought you were going in the back to vape, or do coke, or whatev-"
"You think I do coke in the back room?" Kyle asked weakly.
"I don't fucking know, but now I know you've been sick all night! Why the fuck didn't you call off?"
"Hey, maybe you shouldn't yell at him..." Eric interjected, looking between the two of them.
"Back off, big guy." Kip pointed a finger at Eric, who flinched in surprise.
"Kip." Scott scolded over the bar.
"Scott!" Kip hissed back.
Kyle threw up.
"Maybe a damp cloth for his face?" Eric offered a balled-up rag that was next to him on the counter.
"I used that to clean a mojito off the floor." Kip offered unhelpfully, and a little bit acidically. Eric removed his hand from the rag like it had burned him. Then, noticing a bag of clean rags, reached his hand out to pick one up, looking at Kip like he'd be attacked for trying.
"No, it's a good idea. I'm sorry." Kip said, reaching out for the rag. Eric ran it under the tap until it was damp, then rung it out and handed it to Kip, who put it over Kyle's forehead.
"Thank you." Kyle said, leaning his head back against the bar as he cradled the ice bucket in his lap. "And thanks for letting me sit up. It helps."
"How long have you been sick?" Kip asked.
Oh, just two weeks, give or take. Don't worry, I only started to feel this way after an investment banker told me I was worth leaving his wife over and then ghosted me after he railed me six ways to Sunday, but I'm totally fine.
"Just today. I think I had something bad last night." Kyle replied instead.
"I can't believe you came in when you were feeling like shit." Kip sighed. Sirens cut over the music, and the front of the bar lit up with wheeling red and blue lights.
"EMTs are here." Scott said. "I'll bring them in."
"Oh my god." Kyle breathed. He was going to have to go with them to the hospital, just so he could get in the back of the truck for some privacy and wouldn't have to blurt out that he was knocked up in front of god and Ilya Rozanov.
There was a clunk and the clatter of gurney wheels as the EMTs rolled in, assisted by Scott. The lead EMT came around the bar, all smiles and positive energy.
"Hey there handsome! I'm Matt. I've got Jenny with me. Let's see what we can do to fix you up!"
Kyle locked eyes with Kip over his bucket, hoping his gaze conveyed a slow and painful demise.
"I'm so sorry." Kip breathed, cheeks flushing pink.
It went quickly because Kyle sucked up every urge to argue or throw a fit over how he was being treated like a fragile kid and asked to be taken to the hospital for fluids. Kip tried to go with him in the ambulance before Kyle reminded him that he was working and couldn't leave the Kingfisher in the hands of a bunch of hockey players. Scott tried to come with him in the ambulance before Kyle reminded him that he probably should help Kip close. Eric tried to come with him in the ambulance, and Kyle practically begged to be rushed outside at that point before Ilya Rozanov tried to get in there too.
"You have a lot of people worried about you, that's good to have people." Matt told him as they rolled into the back of the ambulance.
"It's great. I'm just feeling-" Kyle cut himself off with a strong gag as his body feebly tried to throw up again.
"Let's get a line in and get you some fluids and anti-emetics." Matt told him, patting his shoulder.
"Need to tell you something else, now that everyone else is gone." Kyle said weakly, reaching out to grab the EMTs wrist. "I'm pregnant, like a month and a half along."
"Sir? We're about the close the doors?" Jenny's voice interrupted from the still-open doors.
"Yes, sorry. I give coat and wallet." A Russian voice came. Kyle's eyes darted down to his feet to see Ilya Rozanov standing there studying him. Had he just overheard the admission? Fuck.
"I didn't want everyone knowing." Kyle said, looking between Matt and Ilya and hoping that conveyed his meaning well enough before everyone and their dog got in on the conversation.
"Ooooo." Matt said, exchanging a glance with Jenny, who had Kyle's coat held limply in one hand.
"Rozanov?" Scott's voice called from somewhere beyond the doors.
"Get well soon." Ilya said, nodding once at Kyle and disappearing. Kyle exhaled, feeling tears prick the corners of his eyes. He had no idea if he could actually trust Rozanov with his secret, but it didn't really look like he had much of a choice now that the ambulance doors slammed shut.
"Okay, Kyle. Let's get that noted in your file. We might need to up the dosage and really push fluids if you've been sick longer than you originally said."
"Yeah. Sorry. Didn't want them all to know."
"You got it, man. Congratulations. Let's get you prepped for fluids and get down to the ER."
Kyle sighed and let his eyes close as the ambulance rocked into motion, sirens and lights on.
Eric watched the ambulance pull away from the Kingfisher, his stomach churning.
"He'll be okay, Benny. Probably just dehydrated. They'll put a couple banana bags in him like they did for Vaughanny when him and Gloria got noro at that restaurant in Tribeca."
"Yeah. Probably." Eric agreed.
Just then Rozanov came back inside, smelling like cigarettes.
"Did he get his stuff okay?" Eric asked, at the same time Scott grimaced and chirped Rozanov about still smoking. Ilya rolled his eyes.
"Being grandfather is not enough, Hunter, you must also behave like mother too?"
"Well, fuck. I do not know how to salvage the vibes now." Kip breezed by with a loaded tray of empties and set it down on the bar. The group watched as a couple patrons shuffled out, waving awkwardly as they went.
"Should you close early or something? We can help, Kip." Scott spoke, leaning on the bar.
"Nah, babe. Don't worry about me. Closing on a weeknight is pretty easy." Kip replied. "Besides, you guys must be beat from your game. You can head home."
"Yeah, right. Like I'd leave you by yourself here late at night." Scott leaned in. Kip pecked his lips and then scooted away with his tray, smiling happily.
"I think I need to head home, I'm just..." Eric trailed off. He was sure his discomfort showed on his face.
"Your lovely Kyle will be okay." Rozanov said, "I ask. Doctors say he needs fluid and rest."
"He's not my anything." Eric replied, frowning. Scott was looking at him out of the corner of his eye.
"I think you two would get along." Kip deposited another round of empties on the bar.
"I think so too, maybe I will hold your wedding ring for you next time." Rozanov said. "Now, who do I have to blow to get a beer around here?"
"Sleep with one eye open tonight, Rozanov." Scott growled.
"The better to watch you as you snore next to me."
As fun as it would be to watch whatever weird dynamic Rozanov and Scott were developing for their comedy act, Eric felt like he might be the next person to start throwing up if he didn't get out of this stuffy bar. He also needed to remove himself from the temptation of asking Kip for Kyle's number before he did something truly weird like check up on him or offer to DoorDash him Pedialyte.
Instead of giving in to any of his insane temptations, he made his goodbyes and got out into the chilly New York night. Later, when he laid down in his bed, sleep was a long time coming. All he could think about was the conversation he'd been having with Kyle before he'd gone as white as a sheet and folded like a piece of damp paper. Was he still at the hospital being treated for dehydration? Did he have anyone to pick him up? Did he have a roommate or partner to check on him?
Eric tossed and turned all night, but the answers never came any closer.