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There was waking up on the wrong side of the bed, and then there was whatever Dom was going through this morning. He'd woken up early that morning, brain a little more put together than it had been during his brief period of consciousness the previous day, and was..... grumbly. Down right grumpy, really. When the nurses came that morning, he was short with them, snippy, and almost like a stubborn child. There was a furrow to his brow and a set thinness to his lips as he bottled up this anger and frustration he felt.

It wasn't his fault. Sure, he could have a temper that he was exceedingly good at keeping in check, but this was pure ******** driven moodiness. And he hated it. He was well aware that his mood and behaviour was wrong, but he didn't have it in him to mask it. Add to all that he was still feeling nauseous, a side effect of the medication he'd been pumped with, along with the vertigo. he huffed a sigh and threw his head back on the pillow as the nurse finally left and said the Doctor would be by shorty, so he could give the go-ahead to discharge him.

Good. He wanted to go home. He wanted to get back to work, but knew even if he wanted to, he shouldn't, and no one would let him. The thought that the funeral home could run without him hurt. Even if it was just going to be for a short while, it still hurt to know that the castle could still function without its king.

Most might call him a workaholic but Domcallion truly loved his job, from the gross to the beautiful, living to dead. Anamnesis had grown exponentially since he took it over from the last proprietor, who had also been first his mentor, then his employer, before retiring and bequeathing the business to him. Originally, there was just the one chapel, they didn't offer on site cremation, the courtyard and greenhouse didn't exist, and the parking lot was a simple slab.

It took a number of years, but Dom was able to negotiate business and expand with minimal impact on the business' bottom line. First had been expanding the back work area to accommodate a larger work space, storage, and crematory. Then came the second chapel, which included a facelift to the rest of the public-facing facility, and a large open area with a patio that would open to what would eventually become the courtyard. At the same time, he was having his house built. The plot of land that the business occupied was large, so he had room to place it near the wood line that the property backed up to. There was a good half-acre between it and the backside of the funeral home. One day Dom had been staring out the patio as the nearly-finished construction, pondering how he would develop the rest of the land.

It was Janet, the lovely older woman who took are of everything, from answering the phones and scheduling consultations to accounting, that suggested the addition of the greenhouse, She mentioned how offering in-house floral arrangements could benefit the business. After some consideration and number-crunching, Domcallion agreed that it would be a good business venture, and the idea of the courtyard soon followed.

His kingdom expanded, as did staffing, and although they weren't the wealthiest business, things were good. Given a few more years when loans and the like were paid off, they'd be in an even better place. He had no interest in hiring more staff and business was always steady. He could either lower prices or keep prices the same and increase pay. The altruistic part of him struggled between the two - his heart being soft for the suffering of his clients' loved ones, while also wanting to take care of those who worked for him. Goodness knew he gave more monetary breaks to mourning families than he probably should, but he didn't want for much monetarily - he'd give out of his own pocket. So in the end, the solution he'd probably come to was cutting his own pay so that he could both lower prices and give his staff a raise.

That was a few more years down the line, however. There was also the business of his grandparents coming to live with him. They had discussed it last Christmas when everyone came to visit Amaranth and him. Though his grandparents were still quite spry for their age - they had their children young, and likewise his parents had also been young parents - they were uneasy with the political unrest in their home country of Belgium. Dom couldn't say it was any better or worse here, but he also felt he would be more at ease having them here. His brothers agreed, although they elected to, for the time being, stay there.

All the extra rooms in the house were up stairs, and although his grandparents were in good health, he knew realistically that wouldn't always be the case, and stairs would become a danger. So the house was to be renovated - a semi-attached suite would be added. This is when his grandparents needled him about living in the basement of his own house and how that would work when he and Amaranth had kids.

Initially the discussion had caught him totally off-guard. It wasn't something he'd put much thought in to. Sure, he and Amaranth had briefly brought up the topic, but it had been waved off with a 'maybe one day,' and nothing more ever came of it. Under the gentle scrutiny of his grandparents, the topic wasn't so easy to wave off.

Should he even have kids when he didn't even know why he had this medical condition? What if he could pass it down? He'd hate himself even more....

[983 words - Dom]

Dom looked at the food that had been sat aside with a barely-hidden sneer of disgust. Even if his stomach wasn't doing flips, he was pretty sure that would have accomplished it.

"I'd really rather not think about food right now, actually."

Food actually would have probably helped - he hadn't eaten since sometime yesterday....morning? And that might have just been some buttered toast. So having something in his stomach might make it settle down, but he wasn't about to even entertain the thought. He could at least appreciate that she was trying, though.

He couldn't remember much of yesterday. He was sure more of it would come back to him as he recovered, but he couldn't help feeling guilty about this whole situation. Dom squeezed that hand that grasped his and brought delicate pale knuckles to his lips. His movements were much better than yesterday during his brief period of consciousness. He was getting his coordination and strength back, but was still a bit slow.

"Thank you, though."

[169 + 983 = 1152 words - Dom]

Tea probably would help. Even he could begrudgingly admit that much, but he still gave the statement a noncommittal, 'mn.'

Any other time he would have loved to bask in Amaranth's light and brilliant energy, but right now he couldn't find it anything but exhausting. He didn't have the energy to protest or fight her on it. What ground did he have to stand on anyway? He needed the help, even if he was loathe to admit it.

"Whatever you want."

Just as Domcallion was wondering where that doctor was, in he came. They were finishing up as a nurse came in with a chair and Dom, who was up and dressed (Which he only had to fight the urge to vomit from the movement twice!) levelled the most 'b***h please' look anyone had ever seen and simply said;

"Well we aren't having that s**t."

The nurse seemed unaffected by the comment, and the doctor merely stifled and amused snort. Indeed, this patient, if they were operating at normal capacity, would have never acted nor say anything like that. The wide-eyed surprise on the Little Miss' face only made him grin more while he kept his head down to his note board, writing down who knows what.

The nurse, who was only half-heartedly trying to fight the giant man on this, soon sighed in defeat and walked away with the chair.

Paper work in hand, free to go, they were only half way down the hall when Dom was beginning to regret his prideful decision. He could feel his stomach flop, his head pound and mouth fill with saliva. Still, he focussed on his breathing, taking in deep breaths and focussed on the path ahead. His coordination was still not quite there, and fighting the urge to vomit didn't help. At the moment, his stubborn pride was all he had and desperately trying to maintain.

When they made it to the elevator, he leaned back against the wall, closed his eyes, and focussed on breathing.

Ding.

The doors opened. They were a short walk to the exit doors. Ugh, why was it so bright outside? Dom's head was pounding, not just from the nausea, but the light. He wanted his cave.

Ehen they neared the car, Amaranth zipped ahead and got the door. Dom, looking absolutely horrid at this point, stood there and stared for a moment, before cramming himself inside. Good - he'd made it. He closed his eyes again, breathing. He heard Amaranth get inside and close her door. He heard a muffled noise as she asked him something. Probably asking if he was alright. He didn't reply for a moment. Breathing. Then...

"Nope."

He opened the door and dry heaved. What was his stomach even complaining about? There was nothing to throw up! Still, Dom spit the thick saliva that dripped from his mouth before leaning back in the ******** embarrassing.

[485 + 1152 = 1637 words - Dom]

"Yeah," Dom choked out, taking the bottle of water and napkins gratefully, if not begrudgingly, "Lets go home."

For most of the trip he sat the chair back, and kept his eyes closed. At least like this, it wasn't so bad. Once they were out of the city proper and on the highway with fewer stops and turns, the drive wasn't so bad. In fact, it almost lulled him back to sleep. Given how much he had slept in the last 24 hours, it was hard to believe he could still be tired, but there was still plenty of medication in his system, and he was several different types of exhausted. He'd be spending a lot more time the next few days sleeping and just resting in general, whether he wanted to or not.

At some point, he had fallen asleep, and jumped awake as soon as they'd turned in to the part of the parking lot that lead to the driveway of their cottage-style home. To call it a cottage was underselling it - the house was two stories with an entire basement apartment, and due for expansion in the coming months to accommodate his grandparents. Style wise, however, it was very rustic cottage cozy.

Dom took in a deep breath as he readied himself for the trek inside. He was eager to get inside, down to his cool, dark, basement cave. Okay, that made it sound gross - it was a very well finished and lovely area very medieval in appearance but with many modern amenities. Most importantly however, it was his place, with all his comforts and trappings. Amaranth helped him to bed and left to make him some tea. She'd come back to find him stubbornly curled up on the couch, flipping through ambient music playlists and a book that he would ultimately wind up not even reading. He was stubbornly defiant in such little amusing ways, like a little kid trying to push their luck with a parent. He still felt surly and temperamental, but was almost too tired to keep up the energy needed for such an act.

The tea was good - between that and the music he never so much as got his book open before he was asleep.

[375 + 1637 = 2012 words - Dom]