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He rolled Cassian onto his back and pulled the duvet up to his chin. Then he leaned down and kissed Cassian’s forehead. Cassian’s skin was clammy against his lips. “Oh Cass…you’re not going to feel very good in the morning.”

Ruari set his alarm as usual, and made a note to have water, paracetamol and a bacon roll ready for Cassian first thing. Then he dropped onto his side of the mattress still fully dressed, and was asleep within minutes.

✦ ✧ ✦

Akick connected with Ruari’s shin and jolted him out of sleep.

Cassian was a restless sleeper. He flung elbows and knees about as he rolled across the bed through the night. Ruari had learned to lie still and let it happen.

The room was dark. His mouth tasted of peat and stale beer, and the numbers on the bedside clock were a green blur he couldn’t bring into focus.

Then he heard the sound.

Wet and gurgling, like water trying to drain through a blocked pipe. The mattress was shaking in convulsive jerks that travelled through the frame and into the back of Ruari’s skull where it rested against the headboard.

He reached for Cassian in the dark. His hand found Cassian’s chest, and it was heaving, spasming in tight, involuntary contractions. He touched Cassian’s mouth and his hand came away wet.

Ruari reared up and fumbled for the bedside lamp. He missed the switch twice, his hand slapping against the base before the click caught and the light made him flinch.

Cassian was grey in the face. Vomit soaked the pillow beneath his head and had matted into his hair.

Ruari’s hands were clumsy and slow, lagging behind what his brain was screaming at them. He knew what to do. He had to get Cass into the recovery position and clear his airway. He’d done it before for teammates after nights out that went sideways. But in spite of his knowing, his body still wouldn’t fucking move properly because this was Cassian that needed him.

He got Cassian onto his side. Vomit poured out of Cassian’s mouth and onto the sheets, more of it than seemed possible from a body that small.

Ruari hooked two fingers past Cassian’s teeth and scooped the mess out for him. His sick reeked of strawberry cider and half-digested steak. He wiped his hand on the sheet and went back in, clearing vomit from the back of Cassian’s throat until he met nothing but slick gums and the hard ridge of his palate.

Cassian wasn’t conscious. His eyes were half-open, but there was nothing behind them. His breathing came shallow and rapid, each inhale a wet rasp that didn’t sound like it was letting in enough air to keep a person going.

Ruari held him on his side and groped for his mobile. His thumb hit the wrong icon twice before the keypad came up, and he jabbed 999 with a hand that wouldn’t stay still.

The ringing stretched. Cassian’s breathing had thinned to a reedy whistle, the gaps between breaths long enough to make Ruari’s vision tunnel.

“Emergency services. Which service do you require?”

“Ambulance,” Ruari shouted. “It’s my omega, he’s been sick, he’s choking, I can’t…”

“Can you tell me your address?”

Ruari gave it, stumbling over the postcode. The tremor running through his body rattled his teeth together between words.

“Is he breathing?”

“Yeah. I think. It sounds wrong, it sounds wet—”

“Is he on his side?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Keep him exactly like that. Don’t move him onto his back. Can you tell me how old he is?”

“Twenty-two.” Ruari’s voice broke on the second syllable. “He’s twenty-two, and he’s been drinking, and I wasn’t watching him closely enough. I should’ve stopped him…”

“You’re doing really well. Stay with me. What’s his name?”

“Cassian.”

“And your name?”