Wendy

They sit across from each other in bed. She's holding the bottle in one hand, the flimsy plastic cup in the other. She looks at him sternly but then giggles so it ruins her air of importance. "You first. Take your medicine." She says and hands him the cup, commanding him to hold it out. She unscrews the lid of the medicine bottle and pours a generous dose into the cup. He inspects it closely as she screws the cap back on but when she glares at him he tilts his head back and pours the thick purple syrup down his throat. Immediately his face screws up and he makes a gagging sound, she begins giggling softly then louder until she's laughing, face into his chest, arms wrapped around him until he pushes her away and hands her the flimsy cup and still giggling she pours herself a dose and drains half of it. The syrup curdles on her toungue and the sickly sweet taste of berry and health make her cringe inside but she shows nothing outwardly because she has to be the role model. She can feel his eyes on her as she takes two more gulps and finishes the contents of the cup, making sure she got every last drop. She screws the cap back on the bottle and places it on the bedside table. She leans over and places the plastic cup next to it then sits back onto the bed and looks at him. He holds her stare for thirty seconds before he reaches for her and they fall, laughing, into the covers and blankets and each other.