Sicktember Day 30 - Get Back in Bed - Paramedic AU - TW: Mentions of medical procedures, medical talk
(And yes, Eddie's head got shaved. RIP hair.)
Part 2
6 WEEKS LATER
Eddie’s tired. He’s tired like he has been for weeks, since he woke up in the ICU. He’d been confused and in pain, and Owens had told him he was a lucky bastard, passing out in the emergency room and not at the wheel or back at the station.
An acute subdural hematoma. Severe concussion. Temporary right sided paralysis. Decompression cranial surgery.
All the words still swirl around his head. He’s four weeks out of the hospital, he’s doing better every single day. Things are slowly creeping back to normal, but he won’t be returning to work for at least another 8 weeks. Chrissy comes and sees him almost every day, Nance and Robin most days too. Steve only leaves when he has to go to work, which he’s scaled back on for now.
Stir-Crazy doesn’t even begin to cover how Eddie feels. He can barely watch tv without getting a headache. Some mornings he’ll get up and be fine, other days he’ll have to ease himself back onto his and Steve’s bed to let dizziness pass. He’s gained full mobility back from his right side, a far cry from 5 weeks earlier when he’d not been able to use his right arm.
Selfishly (and stupidly), Eddie’s most put out about his hair. They’d had to shave his head and he’d gotten a ridiculous amount of staples. He remembers crying hard, almost as hard as the day he’d found his mom ‘asleep’, and Steve had held him, hugged him tight, and told him it would grow back.
“Maybe even straight.”
“Don’t fucking joke about that,” Eddie has huffed out a watery laugh.
His hair is still curly, thank fucking god. Eddie stares at himself in the mirror, hands gripping the sink as he frowns, a small cowlick near where some of his staples had been. Even after six weeks of growing, it’s not much. His goddamn bangs are gone.
“Hey, you should get back in bed,” Steve comes up behind him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.
Leaning into the touch, Eddie gives a shaky smile. He doesn’t know how to thank Steve, doesn’t know how to tell him just how much he loves him. The words ‘I love you’ just don’t seem to stress it enough.
“I miss my hair,” the paramedic mumbles, holding his boyfriend's hand as Steve leads them back to their bed- the one that’s now been put on an adjustable base so Eddie can keep his head up higher at night.
“I know. But thank god you look just as hot with short hair. Your curls are still kind of loose. If you had had Annie curls…” Steve trails off with a smirk, and Eddie can’t help but laugh.
“Lucky for you then, Stevie.”
“Alright, bed time. I’m honestly surprised you lasted this long. It’s almost eleven,” Steve kisses his cheek as they both crawl into bed.
“Owens said I should start getting back to normal more and more now.”
“I love you.”
Eddie pulls Steve close and nuzzles his soft hair.
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Sicktember Day 29 - Exhaustion/Lethargy - Paramedic AU - TW: Nausea (mentioned in context of concussion, no vomiting)
Part 1 of 2
“Dispatch can suck my dick,” Eddie grumbles mostly to himself as he grabs his walkie.
“Dispatch, this ambulance 12 requesting police backup,” he puts his mouth close to the black plastic. “We’ve got a male, mid thirties, aggressive and trying to get violent.”
“Copy ambulance 12, sending police back up.”
The paramedic sighs and swipes a hand over his face before looking more closely at the scene they’ve walked into. They’re in a bar, and why the police weren’t the first on scene he has no clue. A crowd’s gathered around two individuals, one is shouting and they both look completely out of it- high or black out drunk he’s not sure. With the gurney right outside the door of the pub, Eddie steps further in, then pauses when Chrissy follows.
“Eddie no wa-“
“Chrissy! It’s not safe, and you’re not coming in until we get police on scene.”
“Chrissy! It’s not safe, and you’re not coming in until we get police on scene.”
He uses the voice he knows she hates, but right now the most important thing for him is her safety. They train you, drill into your brain from day one, that scene safety comes first before anything else. You yourself are number one. Your partner is number two, and then the patient. Eddie doesn’t see it that way. Chrissy will always be number one when it comes to safety. He’d gladly take a bullet for the petite strawberry blonde who has somehow wormed her happy little way into his heart.
“Eddi-“
“That’s an order, Cunningham!”
He doesn’t stay to watch her sulk back through the door. Instead, he makes his way through the crowd to get a better look. The man yelling is around 6’3”, 220 lbs easily. Fuck. The other guy is smaller, but seems more volatile.
“What seems to be going on tonight guys?” Eddie asks them, and the crowd loitering around the dimly lit bar.
“He’s fucking cheating with my wife,” the larger of the two starts, and the other cuts in.
The long haired man notices both of them have glass in their arm, bruises on their faces. Stepping closer, he dramatically sighs.
“Sounds like a pretty shitty night. Mind if I check you both out so we can see if any of this damage needs a trip to the hospital?”
Both men start to argue, suddenly up in each other’s faces again. Eddie steps into range and suddenly the smaller one who’s been swinging at the other guy turns and pushes the paramedic, who stumbles back slightly. A few of the other patrons mumble or shout, and Eddie rights himself. God damn rules not letting him use self defense.
“Look, I’m only here to he-”
“If you wanna help, get this motherfucker out of there!”
“I unfortunately only am here for your physical well being,” Eddie starts but then once again is pushed, harder this time, as if to be a warning.
“I don’t need no doctor, what I need is a fucking gun so I can shoot this-”
“Shut the fuck up-”
Eddie understands quickly this isn’t going to get them anywhere. There’s blood on the larger man’s arm, bright red and flowing freely.
“Look, dude, you’ve got a pretty deep cu-”
With a final shove, the paramedic feels his head collide with the corner of a table, hears the crack of the impact, and then the world grays. He can still hear people yelling, but it’s muffled, a loud ringing reverberating throughout his skull. Sharp, throbbing pain wraps around his head like a rubber band, threatening to crack it completely open.
Focus, Eddie.
Focus.
The man forces his eyes open and everything is fuzzy for a brief second before it all sharpens back into place. Nausea slams into him and he clenches his hand, trying to make sense of everything. A hand on his shoulder makes him turn as he works on getting up, dizzy.
“Are you okay? What the hell happened?” Chrissy is there with wide blue eyes. He turns and sees cops manhandling both men, so he once again tries to get up. All the movement makes him exhausted.
“M’fine! Go…we need to go check them out.” He stands and is proud of himself for not hurling like he wants to. His ears are ringing, high and sharp in his aching head.
By the time they get to the hospital to drop off one of the men, escorted by police with an officer in the back of the ambulance as well, Eddie’s ready to take a tranquilizer and knock himself the fuck out. The bright fluorescent lights are making him squint as he tries to fill out info on the iPad, while the smaller of the guys lays on the gurney, restrained with one hand above him, handcuffed to the gurney. The police office is looking around the cabin as Chrissy drives quickly. They hit a pothole and Eddie’s proud of himself when he doesn’t hurl like he wants to.
They arrive to the ER quickly, walking in and getting the man handed off to the intake nurse. The paramedic hands Nancy the iPad so she can transfer data, then leans against the nurses station counter, body suddenly exhausted in a way he’s never experienced. Head still pounding, like it’s been out through a meat grinder, Eddie tries to take a steadying breath. He can feel the energy drain out of him, and he thinks he can hear his boyfriend start to panic as he makes his way ungracefully to the ground for the second time in so many hours.
Fuck.
XXX
“Oh my god!”
“Eddie!”
“What happened?
Nancy and Steve are by Eddie’s side in seconds, the man’s skull hitting the linoleum tiled floor with a sickening crack. Chrissy’s watching with wide, panicked eyes as the nurse starts looking his boyfriend over rapidly.
“He…he got hit, I think, by the guy. He was really out of it when I walked i-“
“You weren’t with him?!” Steve’s voice comes out harsh. He only half doesn’t mean it to.
“No, I…he told me to wait out…I’m s-sorry.”
Any other situation, Steve would feel bad. He would understand why, he would comfort the younger girl. But right now, she’s the reason they don’t know what’s going on. Nancy’s counting heart rate while Steve’s moving Eddie onto his left side, hoping the recovery position will help wake him.
A minute ticks by, and then deep brown eyes flutter but they don’t open. The paramedic groans, one hand fumbling to press against his head. Progress. Steve shakes his shoulder gently.
“Eddie, hey…Eddie, come on, I need you to wake up.”
He pulls away, still groaning.
“Eddie, come on. Open your eyes.”
A groan, more withdrawing.
“Seven out of fifteen GCS,” Chrissy observes.
Steve’s always hated the Glasgow Coma Scale. Learning about it in college was always annoying, he got the number of different responses mixed up with what they were supposed to be looking for. He understands the purpose- how to tell just how bad a head or brain injury is, but even now, does he count Eddie’s movement as a response to pain or just withdrawal.
Truthfully, it doesn’t matter, not when the outcome would still be under an 8 either way. Anything under 8 is severe. Steve isn’t sure how long Robin’s been standing next to him with a gurney, but with Chrissy, himself, Robin and Nancy, they manage to get him onto it.
Billy walks by, and somehow even he has the decency to look a little worried at all the commotion.
“What’s going on?”
“Don’t know, trauma to the head, GCS is a seven,” Nancy explains.
“Is he hurt anywhere else?”
Steve can’t help but be a little surprised at the sudden professionalism of Billy fucking Hargrove. This guy has hated all their guts; especially Eddie’s, since he’d transferred from some high end hospital outside of town. Hippocratic Oath, maybe.
Chrissy starts cutting off Eddie’s pants with her shears as they wheel him to an empty room.
“Nice day to get trauma naked,” Robin tries to joke, but her voice is shaky.
“You said he hit his head?”
“When I saw him he was trying to stand up next to a table. He looked kind of out of it, and he was squinting. Like he was in pain. He passed out a few minutes ago and hit his head on the floor too.”
“Hey Munson,” Billy leans down over him and punches at his ear lobe.
The twenty nine year old groans, hand twitching. Steve grabs his pen light from his pocket, opening one of Eddie’s eyes. The pupil is blown wide. He checks the other, which seems normal. God damn it.
“We need Owens in here, now,” Steve says with such force that the other four all start to move at the same time.
Sicktember Day 28 - Chronic Illness - Youtube AU - TW: Needles (briefly, used in diabetic context)
Nobody who sees Eddie would know. He keeps it hidden and out of sight, tucked away in his jeans pocket- it’s usually mistaken for a wallet if anyone does notice. It’s not that he keeps it a secret, but he also doesn’t feel the need to talk about it. He’s had diabetes since he was 6, had a pump since he was 8, attached to his lower abdomen, an essential part of his life. Without it, he’d be dead.
They’re all in the tattoo parlor the first time Eddie’s blood sugar drops since moving to Hawkin’s a month prior. They’re all sitting there, throwing out suggestions for Robin’s first tattoo, flipping through some flash sheets the artist has compiled over the years he’s worked. As Steve points to a horror one jokingly, Eddie’s head starts hurting.
It’s subtle but there, a small pulse on the side of his head. A moment later, he realizes how tired he is. Rubbing his face with his hand, he jumps back into the conversation, suggesting maybe something small to start out with.
Fuck.
Pulling out the top drawer of his mechanics cart; the one that holds all of his inks and gear, Eddie snags a Reese’s peanut butter cup, ripping into it.
Pulling out the top drawer of his mechanics cart; the one that holds all of his inks and gear, Eddie snags a Reese’s peanut butter cup, ripping into it.
“You guys want one?” He asks, looking at the two.
Nausea rolls through his stomach and the long haired man pops the entire piece of candy into his mouth, making Steve chuckle and Robin look surprised. As he chews, Eddie fishes out his phone from his pocket, clicking open his Tandem app, checking to see what his levels are.
56 mg/dL. Well shit. Really, Eddie’s surprised it’s not lower, but the machine attached to him is good at its job, knowing to adjust insulin levels when his blood sugar starts dropping.
He pops another Reese’s cup into his mouth as Robin snacks on one too. Taking his water bottle off the top of the cart, he takes a few sips, headache still pulsing. Steve‘a watching him curiously bjt after another four minutes, Eddie can feel the chocolate and protein start to kick in, so he suggests going to the burger place next door for dinner.
XXX
A week after he, Steve and Robin eat their burgers and continue to talk about tattoo ideas, Eddie finds something out. Robin’s clumsy. She’s clumsier than any person he’s met before, if he’s honest, now that he’s spent some time outside of the coffee shop with the duo. She’s tall with long limbs, and that combined with her spacial awareness issues…well, Eddie is surprised she hasn’t fallen into him before.
They’re in the parlor when she trips on what appears to be nothing, right into Eddie, who manages to react quickly enough they don’t hit the floor. What does hit the floor though, is his insulin pump and, getting pulled with it, the cannula tubing, plus the needle and needle cover.
“Son of a bitch!” His voice is loud in the currently quiet and unoccupied space.
“I’m so sorry!”
Hissing at the sudden sting, Eddie puts a hand against his lower right abdomen. Looking up, Steve and Robin are standing there wide eyed. Robin looks entirely too guilty and worried, and Steve looks confused.
“Sorry, that wasn’t directed at you Robin, you didn’t do anything,” the musician bends down and picks the small system up, thankful the pump doesn’t seem to be messed up.
“What’s that?” Steve looks at the supplies in his hands.
“Oh, I’m diabetic, it’s my insulin pump so I don’t like..go into shock and die,” he shrugs, not thinking much of his words.
“Wait what?!”
“Holy shit and I ripped it out!! Do we need to take you to a hospital?”
Laughing quietly, Eddie shakes his head and sets the items on his clean black bench, then lifts his shirt up to inspect the damage. There’s a small circle of skin that’s a shade paler where the needle cover was sticking to him. A tiny puncture wound is in the middle.
“No, I’m all good guys, seriously. I have to change it every couple of days anyway. Lucky for you Birdie, tonight was the night, so honestly you just helped me out,” Eddie assures, grabbing his backpack and pulling out identical items, though they’re all sealed for sterilization.
“I gotta go wash my hands, be right back.”
A minute later, he comes back to his friends who are both looking at Steve’s phone.
“Oooh, watcha lookin’ at?” Eddie grins, making them both jump.
“We we’re just…googling what the pump does and stuff,” Steve admits, looking like a kid who’s been caught stealing a cookie. Eddie thinks it’s adorable.
“Oh. I mean, I could probably tell you in a simpler way,” the artist shrugs as he swabs his stomach with an alcohol wipe, ignoring how the other two watch.
“Yeah, it’s all kind of confusing,” Robin admits, wincing as Eddie sticks the large, clear circle to his lower left abdomen this time.
He makes sure it’s sticking good, then clicks down on the lever on either side of the plastic, and it pops his needle in, the plastic hitting together and making a noise. Steve and Robin jump. Taking the applicator off, all that’s left is his tube connected to his stomach, the needle hidden by the white medical tape that comes attached to it.
“Ow,” Robin scrunches her face up in sympathy.
“I barely feel it. I’ve been doing it since I was like 8. It barely feels like pushing a sharp pencil against my finger. Besides, I have tattoos, you dorks,” he laughs.
“And you’ll be okay?” Steve asks.
“Yep! I have enough insulin left to get me home, then I’ll just draw more and put it into the little holder inside the thing.”
It’s easy to forget not everyone knows how diabetes works. An hour later, they’re all leaving, and Robin once again apologizes, so Eddie rolls his eyes.
“If you say sorry one more time Buckley, my hand might just slip when I’m finally tattooing you,” he teases. It makes the woman stop, and Steve smirks.
“I’ll start threatening that to her too, worked like a charm.”
Sicktember Day 27 - Sleepless Nights - Steddie - Streamer AU
Steve sits at his desk, setup illuminated by the LED light strips coming from behind his monitor. He can’t sleep, not with how shitty he feels, but he doesn’t feel like he can do much else, either. Eddie’s asleep in their bedroom, probably dreaming about the new Hogwarts Legacy game that’s coming out soon- the one he won’t stop talking about.
Yawning and scrubbing a hand down his face, the gamer sniffles and waits as his computer boots up, keyboard lighting up. He needs something to play thats mindless, something he doesn’t have to actually use brain power for- if he does he’s certain his head will explode.
Having caught some bug from his and Eddie’s last small meet up a few days prior, Steve’s been laying around with a sore throat and aching head, a little congested and restless. He needs to be working on things, coming up with collars and talking to brands he’s partnered with. Instead, he’s been napping and cuddling and avoiding all responsibilities.
Deciding on Minecraft, he keeps his user profile in incognito mode, not wanting to alert anyone he’s awake at 2:27am. He goes through his world, working on fixing things he’s built, and doesn’t realize it’s almost 6am until Eddie comes in looking sleepy, confused and worried, blanket draped around him like an old grandma.
“Stevie? What’re y’doing?” The man’s eyebrows knit together and he squints.
“Jesus! Sorry, you scared me,” Steve’s heart races as he takes a few deep breaths, which sends him into a coughing fit.
It lets up and he leans into Eddie’s hand that’s appeared on his shoulder.
“I couldn’t sleep, so…” he gestures to the screen where Minecraft is playing.
“Come on handsome, let’s get you to bed. I’ll give you some Benadryl if you want, knock you and your cute ass out for a few hours,” Eddie kisses his head and pulls him up, transferring the warm blanket onto him.
Sicktember Day 26 - Tickle in Throat ALT Cuddles on the Couch - N/A - Season 3
“Mr. Munson, if you would see me after class,” Mallory Lindham’s voice rings out near the end of English 4.
A few students look over at him, mostly the new ones who don’t know this is his second time taking this stupid class, the ones who think he might just look slightly older for his age. Eddie nods, caught between feeling annoyed and simply tired of the bullshit he gets from this school. He’s acutely aware he’s seen as a ‘problem’ to most the Hawkins High faculty, and he’s not going to try and dim who he is just because they think he’s too loud or distracting or stupid.
The issue isn’t that he’s stupid. He understands science and all that nerdy shit that no one except engineers use. He understands all about history and industrialization. His best class is fucking Latin 4, the class he’s somehow managed to be able to take again even though he’d aced it on his first try (with only a little help from Wayne).
No, the issue is that English is fucking hard, math is confusing, and teachers won’t listen, so he spends the classes doodling and writing lyrics and coming up with new campaigns instead of paying attention. He’s tried that already and look where it got him- another year at Hawkins High.
When the bell rings, Eddie fully intends on brushing by Mrs. Lindham and stalking out to his car for a smoke. Instead, she makes direct eye contact with him and the slender man holds back, fiddling with his rings as the teacher waits for all the other teens to clear out.
“Unfortunately, Mr. Munson,” the woman’s voice is high and grating in an uncomfortable way, making Eddie bite his lip. “I can’t allow you to repeat the same book as you did last year for the lit project. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is somewhat below the reading level, but I was generous last year. This year I need you to pick something a little more age appropriate.”
The long haired man swallows and shifts, twisting his skull ring around his finger.
“Okay, what if I did one of the Lord of the R-“
“Mr. Denison already informed me of your project from junior year,” the woman cuts in.
Feeling himself get more and more tense, the musician blows out a breath.
“This is bullshit. Why does it matter if I reread a book?”
“Mr. Munson! We’re looking to challenge you, and doing the same thing over and over isn’t doing you any good.”
“Look, I get it, alright? But we both know I suck at reading, and this is already my second year, can’t you-“
“This is your second year because you flunked this class, refused to show up to other classes half of last year, and when you did show up you didn’t take anything seriously. Maybe this year will be different, but saying you’re not good at reading isn’t an excuse. If you’d like, I can find a book for you to read.”
Jaw clenching, Eddie only nods, knowing if he tries to speak even more profanities will drop out. She looks at a piece of paper, eyes running down until she points to a few words on the page.
“The Turn of the Screw. You’ll enjoy it. It’s a gothic novel with suspense and some horror elements. It’s not terribly long either.”
“Fine.”
With that, Eddie shoulders his bag and turns, walking out and slamming the large wooden door behind him. The sound echoes in the now empty hallway. Trudging to his van, he notices Harrington and Hargrove talking, but he ignores it, instead focusing on the headache that’s planted itself on the right side of his head. All of this is fucking bullshit.
By the time he’s back at the trailer, Eddie is shivering, chilled to the bone without a working heater in his van. He’ll need to fix it Saturday, when he has time. The quick trip to the library was uneventful, going in with one thing on his mind, coming out carrying a small book by Henry James. He hopes to god the English teacher is right and it’s not as bad as he’s expecting.
Sighing and rubbing his face, he notices Wayne is already gone, no doubt getting dinner at Benny’s before a long shift. Sniffling due to the cold and his runny nose, the long haired man throws his backpack and the book he’s borrowed onto the couch, not bothering to check and see if it’s landed on its intended target.
After a shower in which he spends far too long under the spray, Eddie changes into clean black sweatpants and an old Dio tee, then yanks on a deep grey sweatshirt. The hood is up, attempting to conserve and warmth he may have left in his body, the heat from the shower dissipating quickly. Grabbing the blanket off of his bed, the extra one from his closet, and the one from the couch, he makes a small nest to bury himself in. He cuddles into the thick fabrics, imagining what it would be like to have someone else to cuddle with before finally opening the copy of the book, struggling to read the words correctly.
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Sicktember Day 25 - Acid Reflux/Heartburn Alt Taking a Sick Day - Jopper - Canon
Sick days aren’t in her vocabulary, haven’t been since Jonathan was born. She’s managed to avoid every serious illness for over 17 years, managed to work through silly colds or headaches. Joyce Byers is nothing if not determined and stubborn. When she wakes up feeling like she’s been struck by a large car, it’s no different. She still has to work, still has to provide for her sons; and Hopper and El now too, so she sits up, groaning when her arms feel like jello.
“Woah woah woah,” a voice to her right is gentle and soothing, but it startles her all the same.
The 44 year old woman turns and sees Jim sitting on the bed next to her. Sometimes she forgets how much weight he’s lost from being in Russia. Even now, months later, he’s having a hard time putting it back on. Squinting at him, Joyce shivers and rubs at her face.
“I’m going to be late fo-“
“You’re not going anywhere, not today. You’ve got a hell of a fever. Felt it earlier when I woke up. You’re home today.”
The tone of Jim’s voice is so final that Joyce doesn’t argue. If it were Bob or Lonnie, she would launch into a rant about needing to do her job. Instead, she leans over and presses her face into Jim’s shoulder, finding his hand with her own.
“…well that was easier than I thought,” Jim smirks, and Joyce squeezes his hand.
“Haven’t felt like this since the 60’s.”
“Yeah well, wish I could say the same. Not all of us have Joyce immune systems. Get some rest ok? I’m going to see if one of the boys will get soup while I go down to the pharmacy.”
It’s no secret they’re woefully underprepared for any of them getting sick. No medicine, no thermometer, no essentials.
Sicktember Day 24 - I Need You To Pull Over - N/A - Canon Divergent
TW: Vomiting, non descriptive
Fifteen minutes into Steve driving the RV, Eddie starts feeling sick. It’s the same sick feeling he gets when Wayne drives them somewhere. His stomach gets uncomfortable, he gets nauseous and dizzy, sometimes gets anxious or annoyed. He’s still scrunched up in the seat behind Steve’s, watching out the rear window in the back of the RV, trees flying by.
Swallowing thickly, Eddie’s head continues to spin, even when he shuts his eyes and tries to take breaths to calm himself. It’s not working in the slightest. Four minutes later, the musician is moving forward slightly, so he can see Steve and Nancy. They seem to be in a deep conversation, but then he decides he doesn’t care. He’d rather not hurl in the middle of the RV with everyone else around.
“Hey Steve? Can we pull over?”
Either the two don’t hear or they’re ignoring him. Whichever it might be, Eddie shifts again, this time somehow making it up close so he can lean into the other two.
“Steve, I really need you to pull over.”
“What? Why? We’re almost th-“
“Steve! I’m serious, please,” his voice rasps, and both Nancy and Steve frown.
“Okay man, hold on.”
Much to everyone’s protest, Steve pulls over to the side of the road, where Eddie yanks opens the RV door as quickly as possible. A moment later, everyone can hear Eddie gagging and retching.
“Damn Steve, you suck at driving,” Dustin tries to lighten the mood, but he doesn’t quite land the joke, not when his voice is full of worry.
They all talk amongst themselves a moment, the three older teens trying to figure out what they should do.
“Maybe he’s sick?”
“He could have eaten something bad at that old shack.”
“I’m fine,” Eddie grumps as he gets back in.
His face is pale and his eyes are moving unnaturally. He’s got his leather jacket off now, showing just how slender he is.
“Dude, are you okay? Your eyes are freaking me out,” Steve stares at him.
“Nngh, fine. I get car sick, something to do with things moving too fast for my brain to process or some shit. Mind if I sit up here too? It helps being able to look out the main window.”
“Of course,” Nancy moves, looking worried.
“I’m not gonna break guys. Brains just wired differently I guess.”
They’re back on the road forty seconds later, Steve looking over every once in a while when Eddie shifts uncomfortably.
Nancy feels hazy, like her brain has been asleep for a month, and it’s trying to reacclimate itself with the world. Except, her brain hasn’t been asleep for more than an hour, and she feels like she’s burning from the inside out. Her entire body is hot but cold, making her a shivery mess.
“Okay, hey, it’s alright,” Robin’s voice is shaky and frantic, but it’s obvious she’s trying to remain calm. “It’s alright Nance, I know you feel bad but you have to trust me ok?”
The dark haired woman blinks at her girlfriend, and Robin wishes so badly she could make all the germs in her body go away. She’s trying to get the older woman into the bathroom, where a tub is waiting for her, filled with lukewarm water. Nancy’s fever is over 103, and while Robin’s realizing she should have called Steve or hell, even Mrs.Wheeler herself, she hasn’t, and she can’t leave Nancy alone now.
After another three minutes of struggling, Nancy gets in and makes the saddest whine the dirty blonde has heard in her entire life.
“It’s okay Nancy, I’m not going anywhere Bear,” Robin uses her nickname for her girlfriend, which makes her seem to relax just slightly.
“P-please don’t leave.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. We’re stuck together, remember?”
Nancy nods and Robin watches over her, not wanting her to get hypothermia on top of whatever germs she’s got, not on her watch. Steve didn’t get rabies, neither did Eddie. And Nancy isn’t going to get hypothermia.
