fake ah crew story where gavin goes overseas to visit his family for a week in the winter, and when he comes back he has the flu. unfortunately, he doesn’t realize it for the first 12 or so hours that he’s back in the penthouse, so he flits around, doling out sloppy “i missed you so much” kisses and stealing bites of their food and sips from their drinks and sitting in jack’s lap–just generally being gavin–except for ray, because ray doesn’t like to be touched and kissed and generally fucked around with. so gavin gives ray one genial high five, and everyone is glad to have gavin home.
and then by the next morning, gavin wakes up and his whole body aches and something is so off and in a pathetic voice he tells jack he has to go to the hospital. jack brushes him off and calls kdin instead. their mob doc shows up at the penthouse, takes gavin’s temperature, listens to his symptoms and tells him that he has the flu. kdin disappears for a few minutes and then comes back up with a cardboard box full of pill packets with instructions written in spanish. jack asks him what the hell they are and kdin says “mexican tamiflu.” jack asks him why the hell he’s giving gavin so much and kdin says “it’s not for gavin. if gavin has the flu, you’re all gonna have the goddamn flu. drink plenty of fluids, no heists for a week, and everyone should take a full course of this stuff.” and then kdin is backing out of the apartment quickly, before anyone can ask any more questions or, say, shoot him for being the bearer of bad news.
fast forward 24 hours and everyone but ray is miserable. michael and gavin have stolen everyone’s blankets and bedspreads (except geoff’s, the boss waved them away with a shotgun and a snarl) and have dragged them into the living room where they’ve created what looks to be by all accounts a blanket fort. they’re huddled inside and nobody has heard anything but sniffling and coughing from them for hours.
finding themself without blankets, jack has crawled pathetically into geoff’s bedroom and negotiated their way into his bed by offering most of a bottle of whiskey, a box of cheezits, and the good kind of kleenex with the lotion in them. geoff pours nyquil and whiskey into a mug and they pass it back and forth in front of some old black and white movie until they fall into a deep sleep. they only wake up when someone sneezes loudly and shakes the entire bed, and it takes them a minute to sort out who’s there with them. of course it’s ryan: bare-faced and spooning geoff. nobody has the heart to question it or kick him out of bed at that point–they all just feel like such shit. jack passes him what’s left of the nyquil cocktail.
ray only comes down from the roof (where he’s huddled poolside under a cabana with an inflatable mattress, an extension cord, a cooler, and a nintendo ds) every 10 or so hours to make sure nobody has died yet and everyone took their tamiflu. each time, he dons a full face mask and gloves, steeling himself as if he’s about to enter battle. (one time he makes his rounds and everyone is asleep. he uses his phone to take pictures of all of them in various states of snuggling undress, realizing it might be useful for future blackmail.) on the second day, they send him out for supplies and ray holds the delivery driver of a gatorade truck at gunpoint, making the man load six pallets of the drink onto a stolen pickup truck.