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agentcampbellWho: James Campbell and Katelynn Stewart with Justin Campbell and Sasha Stanford
What: Team Shitstorm
Where: Mount Sinai Hospital, NYC
When: After this
James couldn’t help but laugh just a little as he stood holding Kat’s hair off her face and rubbing her back while he threw up in a trash can in the hospital parking lot. “You okay, love?” he asked, trying to figure out if she was done. He earned a nudge in the gut with her elbow, clearly an attempted punishment for being halfway to blame for the predicament she found herself in right now. Instead of getting words out to reply, she got hit with another wave of sickness. “It sucks, I know. I’m sorry. I really am. I guess we can’t chalk it up to a bad burrito?”
“Unless ‘bad burrito’ is a nickname for your dick, you’re shit outta luck,” Kat choked out before she had to just let her stomach do what it needed to do. After some more retching into the trash can, she straightened up, back of her hand pressed to her mouth with a strained, “Ugh, this is awful. I was hoping I might get to skip this shit, on account of the fact I’m seriously unqualified for the job.” She had been passively nauseated throughout the morning, but she hoped it was nerves worrying about springing the news on James (even if not medically confirmed yet). It was the overwhelming smell of gasoline in the multi-storey carpark that set her off. They had been walking hand-in-hand from James’ car heading into the hospital for the sonogram she had booked when the nausea rapidly progressed from a minor upset stomach she could ignore to nearly throwing up all over her own shoes. It was a narrow near-miss. She dug around in her handbag for some Kleenex and gum to chew. “I would say it was something I ate, but I can’t get preggo through my oesophagus, so that’s a no from me.”
“Nice pun,” James said, smirking. He took her handbag from her so he could find the items for her. It was easy to guess what she was looking for because he knew she carried all three things. There had been awful cases where they had both been physically sick at crime scenes, or times his diabetes took a dive and it made him sick. She was always prepared. Back when they were partners in the field, she would even carry candy for him in case he had hypos. He slung her bag over his shoulder and then tenderly tucked her hair behind her ears so it stayed out of her sweaty face. He uncapped the water and handed it to her. “I’d promise you an easy ride, but I know you won’t want me bullshitting you. You’d rather shoot me in the dick with that sharpshooting hand of yours than let me bullshit to you. I don’t want you thinking I’m any sort of expert on this shit, though. Or overthinking into territory that I was somehow a doting and loving partner who nursed the mothers of my children through bouts of morning sickness. I’m not. I didn’t.”
( Kat rinsed her mouth out and then sipped the water. It wasn’t lost on her how tender James was being here. She knew he had that in him, even if he worked the insatiable manwhore workaholic angle to sheer perfection... )
LOG, COMPLETE
What: Team Shitstorm
Where: Mount Sinai Hospital, NYC
When: After this
James couldn’t help but laugh just a little as he stood holding Kat’s hair off her face and rubbing her back while he threw up in a trash can in the hospital parking lot. “You okay, love?” he asked, trying to figure out if she was done. He earned a nudge in the gut with her elbow, clearly an attempted punishment for being halfway to blame for the predicament she found herself in right now. Instead of getting words out to reply, she got hit with another wave of sickness. “It sucks, I know. I’m sorry. I really am. I guess we can’t chalk it up to a bad burrito?”
“Unless ‘bad burrito’ is a nickname for your dick, you’re shit outta luck,” Kat choked out before she had to just let her stomach do what it needed to do. After some more retching into the trash can, she straightened up, back of her hand pressed to her mouth with a strained, “Ugh, this is awful. I was hoping I might get to skip this shit, on account of the fact I’m seriously unqualified for the job.” She had been passively nauseated throughout the morning, but she hoped it was nerves worrying about springing the news on James (even if not medically confirmed yet). It was the overwhelming smell of gasoline in the multi-storey carpark that set her off. They had been walking hand-in-hand from James’ car heading into the hospital for the sonogram she had booked when the nausea rapidly progressed from a minor upset stomach she could ignore to nearly throwing up all over her own shoes. It was a narrow near-miss. She dug around in her handbag for some Kleenex and gum to chew. “I would say it was something I ate, but I can’t get preggo through my oesophagus, so that’s a no from me.”
“Nice pun,” James said, smirking. He took her handbag from her so he could find the items for her. It was easy to guess what she was looking for because he knew she carried all three things. There had been awful cases where they had both been physically sick at crime scenes, or times his diabetes took a dive and it made him sick. She was always prepared. Back when they were partners in the field, she would even carry candy for him in case he had hypos. He slung her bag over his shoulder and then tenderly tucked her hair behind her ears so it stayed out of her sweaty face. He uncapped the water and handed it to her. “I’d promise you an easy ride, but I know you won’t want me bullshitting you. You’d rather shoot me in the dick with that sharpshooting hand of yours than let me bullshit to you. I don’t want you thinking I’m any sort of expert on this shit, though. Or overthinking into territory that I was somehow a doting and loving partner who nursed the mothers of my children through bouts of morning sickness. I’m not. I didn’t.”
( Kat rinsed her mouth out and then sipped the water. It wasn’t lost on her how tender James was being here. She knew he had that in him, even if he worked the insatiable manwhore workaholic angle to sheer perfection... )
LOG, COMPLETE