#but between coughing fits i mostly feel fine aside from a aching rib so my brains like STOP FARTIN AROUND! MAKE SOMETHING

[possumnest]

so truly frustrating to be staying home for over a week bc i'm sick and not being Quite so sick that laying in bed is all i can handle but being Just sick enough that i hardly have the energy to do anything productive which results in me feeling guilty for having done nothing "useful" this week -- Bad!!!!!

[cuddlepilefics]

Just a cough?

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Seungmin

Caregiver: Stray Kids

 Seungmin’s POV.:

A few days ago, during vocal lessons I had first noticed a tickle in my throat. I had tried to clear my throat but to no avail, the tickle remained. The more time passed, the tickle made me cough and I’ve been coughing ever since. It was confusing, since I didn’t feel sick at all, it was just the coughing. My members had already gotten concerned the day it had started, but they believed me that I felt fine aside from the coughing fits, I kept going through. Today my vocal teacher had sent me home earlier with the instructions to rest and to take it easy on my voice, obviously worried I’d come down with a cold. Instead of going back to the dorm however, I went to the 3racha studio. I wasn’t sick no matter what my teacher thinks, so resting and skipping out of work didn’t feel justified at all and was no option for me.

My three hyungs were very surprised when I knocked at the studio door but allowed me in anyways. “Aren’t you supposed to be at vocal lessons?”, Chan asked furrowing his brows. “I was, but the teacher didn’t believe me that I’m not sick and sent me home to rest. I tried to convince him that I feel fine but it was no use”, I replied frustrated. “Well, are you sick?”, Jisung questioned. “No! At least I don’t feel sick. Yeah, I keep coughing but that’s it. I’m completely fine otherwise.” – “It’s still possible that you��re coming down with something and you just don’t feel it yet.  If you don’t want to go home and rest, you could help us with some lyrics, so you don’t feel like you’re being unproductive. Though it’s fully up to you, you could also take advantage of getting some time off…”, Chan tried to comfort me. “Yeah, please let me help. Sitting out really doesn’t feel justified and if you’re right and I might get ill in a few days, I at least want to use the time now.” Chan nodded and pushed a stack of scribbled notes in front of me, explaining what they were working on.

But as it had been going all morning, I constantly had to turn away to cough into my elbow. I really tried to keep it to a minimum because I didn’t want to be too annoying but suppressing it didn’t work nearly as well as I wanted it to. Jisung had offered me some water which I slowly sipped on while pointing out here and there, that could be changed up to make the text flow smoother. We had been on it for two hours already and I was really impressed how my group members produced new tracks and easily came up with new ideas. Most of the times we’d only see the results, so today was very interesting to see how our songs actually come together. It being around lunchtime, Changbin offered to go out and get us some take-out to eat while working. Surely his offer wasn’t turned down, so my hyung left while the other two let me listen in on some of the tracks that were close to finished. I wanted to tell them how well they did, but suddenly my breath caught and I pushed my chair away from the desk, bracing my elbows on my knees. This coughing fit was by far the most intense I had had all week. Lasting a few agonizingly long minutes, I was left breathless by the and of it. Being able to pay more attention to my surroundings again, I became aware that the hand patting my back during the entire fit belonged to Chan. As I sat up straight again, I noticed the concerned looks on my hyungs’ faces. Jisung uncapped a waterbottle, pressing it into my hand. I gratefully took it, chugging down about half of it before placing it onto the table thanking him. Just as I was reassuring them that I was ok and tried to ignore their looks of disbelieve, Changbin came back.

Placing a few steaming Styrofoam containers onto the desk after Chan had gathered the lyricsheets, Changbin dropped a bad of coughdrops into my lap. “I thought that might help”, he smiled and I thanked him, returning the smile as Chan and Jisung relaxed a bit. We weren’t working as effectively while eating as we expected, mostly bickering with our mouths full. When we went back to work after our meal, the afternoon went over pretty smooth. The coughdrops Changbin had given me did their job and I finally got a break from coughing every few minutes.

Towards the evening we went back to the dorm and I was happy about the way I had spent my day after getting my vocal lesson cut short. Upon realizing that the bathroom was unoccupied at the moment, I decided to take a shower now instead of having to wait for the bathroom to be free later. Usually not showering hot, I made an exception today. The steam made me notice, that I had been a bit stuffed up and it was now slowly getting easier to breath although I hadn’t considered breathing difficult before. The warmth and humidity must have loosened some of the phlegm in my chest and while I was drying my hair off in front of the fogged-up mirror, I started coughing again. Again it was impossible to stop and I gripped onto the sink for support as my lungs tried to leave my body. I was only able to catch my breath after hacking up some mucus and washing it down the drain. This time, the fit was more tiring and I sat down on the toilet lid rubbing my chest as I tried to slow my breathing down. When both my breathing and my heart rate had gone down to normal, I got up and dressed in a hoodie as well as sweatpants and put on some thick socks. My grandma had always told me in the winter to wear warm socks so I wouldn’t get sick and I relied on that strategy to stay healthy now because I really had no idea why I was coughing so much.

Dinner was fun even though I barely had any appetite at all after eating coughdrops all afternoon. Hyunjin and Jisung had gotten into an argument about rapping which could only end in a tickle fight later and just watching them was very entertaining. After a while of mostly pushing my food around, I noticed Chan watching me. Scared that he might have heard me in the bathroom, I forced myself to eat properly to keep my leader from worrying and I actually managed to finish half of my dinner, which I was really proud of. After clearing the table, my members took turns showering. As I was already done with my shower, I sat on the couch watching the war between Hyunjin and Jisung go down. Minho was in the shower at the moment and Chan had continued working in his room, the rest of us sat around the living room crying from laughter as we placed bets on the two fighters tackling each other to the ground. My laughing soon made me cough and I had to brace myself with one hand on my knee, while the other went up to my chest. I barely noticed, the silence that settled around me, even Hyunjin and Jisung had frozen in their spot. Felix sitting next to me, rubbed my back as I kept choking on air and Changbin came over with some water. When the coughs finally died down, I took a few sips of water to sooth my throat which was slowly getting irritated, before looking into five worried faces. “Hyung, your cough is not getting any better, is it?”, Jeongin asked tentatively, having just witnessed it being much worse than it had been this morning. I felt bad for the maknae, as well as for Minho-hyung, sharing a room with them, my coughing inevitably kept them up as well. Last night I was able to convince them that I was fine and that they should just put in earplugs so I wouldn’t disturb them, hopefully that’ll work again tonight. I hate bothering my members over things that are really no big deal and that I can easily handle on my own. They must be similarly exhausted as me from losing sleep the last few nights and I give my only dongsaeng a tired smile while shaking my head. “Hey, I think I’ll head to bed to catch up on some of the sleep I missed out on recently. Innie, please just use earplugs again tonight, I don’t want to keep you and Minho-hyung up too”, I explained, standing up. Sure, it was still early but I could feel the exhaustion weighing me down. There was a chorus of “good night” and “feel better” as I trudged to my room, taking a bottle of water with me. Feeling a bit chilled, I decided to just sleep in the clothes I had put on after the shower as they were warmer than my pjs. I had just gotten settled in bed when Minho walked in, his hair damp from the shower. “Going to bed already? Are you ok?” – “Yeah, I’m alright just didn’t sleep too much recently. Hyung, I don’t want to keep you up too, please just wear earplugs tonight if I’m coughing too much”, I yawned, pulling the blanket up higher. “Alright, hope you don’t lose too much sleep either”, he sighed and ruffled my hair on the way out before switching off the light and allowing me to rest.

I fell asleep faster than expected, I must have been more worn down than I thought. Sadly, my sleep didn’t last long and I was up again in the middle of the night. My roommates had gone to bed already too and I could hear their calm breathing. When my chest started to feel tight, I quickly grabbed the fluffy blanket that I always kept at the foot of my bed and snuck out of the room. I sat on the couch wrapped in my blanket, pressing the soft fabric to my mouth in an attempt to muffle the coughs tearing from my throat. Was I really getting sick? I’ve always taken care of myself well and never forgot about my vitamins. I should be healthy. Soon, there was no space in my mind to wonder about how I could have gotten myself in this situation, as my entire focus was on trying to breathe. It was getting harder and my chest felt tight, ribs starting to ache from hours of coughing.

 Minho’s POV.:

I had worn earplugs to bed like Seungmin had asked me to, however, I was struggling to fall asleep and was still awake by the time he snuck out of the room. I had assumed he was just going to the bathroom but when it took him a while to return, I fumbled with my earplugs, removing them. With my ears now free, I could hear muffled coughing coming from the living room. My poor donsaeng really can’t get much rest, can he? I sighed before getting up and trudging to the living room. Sitting down next to Seungmin on the couch, I rub comforting circles on his back and when the coughing slowly ceased, he was left panting. “Hey, are you ok now?”, I whispered and he tiredly shook his head: “Never stops for long.” Poor boy. “Sorry, for waking you up hyung.” Wow, he looked like he was about to cry. “Hey, it’s ok. You didn’t wake me up. In fact, I didn’t even hear you because I wore earplugs like you asked. I couldn’t sleep and when I noticed you being gone for a while, I decided to check on you”, I reassured and he seemed to believe me, leaning back into the cushions and closing his eyes. “Do you want to go back to bed?” – “No, I’ll keep coughing and I don’t want to wake Jeongin up too.” That was just like Seungmin, always considerate of others. I ran a hand through my hair and got up. My mom always made me lemon tea with honey when I was sick, so I figured it couldn’t hurt making my dongsaeng some. Especially, since he was right about his prediction to keep coughing and my heart ached listening to him from the kitchen. While the water boiled, I went the bathroom and grabbed the bottle of cough-syrup I kept at the back of the cabinet. With tea and medicine in hand, I made my way back to the living room only to find my dongsaeng half-asleep if it wasn’t for the next coughing fit to make him sit up again. I rubbed his back again and he slowly relaxed again, holding his chest while trying to catch his breath. He didn’t even question me when I held out the measured amount of cough-syrup to him, downing it instantly and only frowning slightly at the taste. Wow, does he have to be desperate for relief.

We sat together while Seungmin drank his tea and it was obvious that the medicine was taking effect, the fits were coming less frequent and lacked a lot of the intensity they had before. I even managed to convince him to go back to bed when he had finished his tea and either I just had a very deep sleep or Seungmin really managed to sleep through the rest of the night.

 Seungmin’s POV.:

When Chan woke me up the next morning, I felt like I got hit by a train. I was really stuffed up, my throat swollen and there was a dull pressure in my head. “Hey, Minho told me about last night and we decided to let so sleep a bit longer. How do you feel?” The leader asked sitting on the edge of my bed. I only noticed now, that the other two beds were already abandoned and my heart dropped. Would I be too late for our schedule? “I think the cold finally hit”, I croaked, sitting up. “Yeah, sounds like it. You’re soo stuffed up”, he replied sympathetically before pressing the backs of his fingers against my forehead: “And you’re running a temperature too…” I groaned and soon started to cough. It was very painful, my ribs already being sore and the ordeal aggravating my headache. “I think it’d be best if you stayed home today and get some rest. Our entire day consists of dance practice and I really don’t think you’re up to that”, Chan said carefully, knowing full well that I wouldn’t like the idea of having to sit out. “I’m ok, it’s not that bad. Please, at least let me try. I promise I’ll sit out if it gets too much.” Chan sighed but nodded, not wanting to fight so early in the morning and trusting me to be responsible enough to make that decision for myself. “Deal, but you’re not going without eating something, if you’re going to dance all day.” I nodded defeated, pushing the blanket off and getting up. I had no appetite at all but I understood Chan’s reasoning and went to the kitchen to get some food. Smiling at my members, I settled for eating some fruit since that’s healthy, right? The dance-line was discussing some choreographies we were going to work on and I just sat down next to them at the table, silently nibbling my breakfast. “Well, good morning, sleepyhead”, Felix greeted, his voice still deep from sleeping. “Morning”, I croaked with a smile. “Wow, somebody caught a cold. You sound awful”, Hyunjin commented. “Wow, aren’t you the sweetest in the morning?”, I sassed, making Minho laugh. Halfway through my breakfast, I needed to take a break and cough. When I had caught my breath again, I quickly forced down the rest of my breakfast before disappearing to the bathroom to get ready.

 Chan’s POV.:

I only walked into the living room when Seungmin was already gone but Felix assured me that the younger had eaten. “I really don’t like the sound of this cough though”, Minho spoke up: “It sounds different from yesterday, deeper and more like it’s bothering his chest instead of his throat.” – “Agreed, I just hope he’ll admit defeat himself. He’s usually capable of taking care of himself so I don’t want to be overprotective and force him to stay at home. Maybe he’ll settle for just watching and trying to memorize the moves that way. At least that’s what I’m hoping for”, I sighed.

When Seungmin returned to the living room, sports-bad slung over his shoulder, he appeared to be quite short of breath. I wasn’t sure whether I should just make him stay at home and rest. My thoughts were cut short when my dongsaeng started to cough again, hard. With a thud his bag hit the ground and he clutched his chest with one hand while the other went up to cover his mouth. I walked over, lightly patting his back, getting more worried the longer the fit persisted. By the sounds of it, Seungmin was struggling to breathe and I went to lead him to sit on the couch since his legs seemed a bit shaky. He pressed his hand to his mouth tighter, when a cough turned into a choked gag and he suddenly tore away from me, darting to the bathroom, while the remaining members watched on terrified. Seungmin had dropped to his knees in front of the toilet just in time to choke up his meager breakfast. Having followed him immediately, I crouched down next to him, rubbing his back. To say I wasn’t terrified myself would have been a lie and I was actually considering calling an ambulance while his breaths sputtered, head turning red as I was certain the poor boy didn’t get nearly enough oxygen in. Luckily, the coughing slowly died down after a few minutes and so did the retches. I kept both of my hands on Seungmin’s shoulders as he swayed lightheadedly, pressing one hand against his chest as a tear ran down his cheek. My heart ached watching him trying to catch his breath, lungs wheezing. I really didn’t like the sound of it and after this particular fit I was certain that this couldn’t just be a cold. “You’re not going to practice today, Minnie. I’ll call our manager and you’re seeing a doctor today”, I decided. As a tell-tale sign of how truly awful he must feel, he didn’t even object and only nodded weakly. He was still wheezing, relying on me to keep him up, as the fit had taken all his energy away, leaving him completely drained.

Hyunjin came in after a few minutes to check on us and we quickly changed positions, letting Seungmin lean against the dancer’s chest, still catching his breath, while I got up to go and call our manager. Going back into the bathroom, after assuring my members that everything would be alright, I crouched before the pair on the floor. “I talked to our manager, he’s going to take you to a doctor straight away. We’re going to wait till he picks you up and then the rest of us will head to practice”, I announced, reaching up to brush Seungmin’s sweaty bangs out of his eyes and resting my hand against his forehead shortly. My stomach was in knots when I noted that the temperature I had felt on him earlier had only gone up and he looked up at me with sad, glossy eyes. Hyunjin and I helped the younger stand before I lifted him up into my arms, carrying him to the couch because he was to breathless to take more than a few steps himself. Putting him down on the couch next to Felix, Seungmin immediately sunk into the freckled boy’s arms, closing his eyes as our little koala scratched his scalp. Jeongin returned from the kitchen carrying a glass of water and crouching next to the couch. He squeezed Seungmin’s knee, making the older open his eyes again: “Here hyung, drink something.” Accepting the water from his only dongsaeng, the vocalist took a few small sips, afraid to upset his stomach again before handing the glass back with a tired smile. Being to weak and short of breath, he mouthed “thank you”, knowing the younger would understand, before closing his eyes again.

It didn’t take too long for our manager to arrive and I helped him to put a very out of it Seungmin into the car. “Minnie. Hey. Text us when you get back home, yeah? Let us know what the doctor said and then try to get some rest”, I instructed and he nodded before I closed the vehicle door and they left. We headed to the practice room right away but it didn’t go too well. There was always at least one member messing up but I understood they were just as worried for our friend as I was and it was difficult to focus on the steps with a thousand thoughts running through our heads. That’s why today I went easy on everyone, trying not to be too strict and to keep the scolding to a minimum. I wasn’t really focused myself either, constantly glancing at the clock. It had been entire 3 hours and 21 minutes till we next heard from our sick vocalist. My phone buzzed with a message reading:

Hey hyung. I’m back at the dorm in bed. Apparently, I have bronchitis, but I got medicine. Sorry for scaring you all earlier. Don’t worry if I don’t reply to your texts, I’ll try to sleep for a bit. We waited like forever and I’m really tired. Tell the others I’m ok. ~Seungmin

I frowned at the diagnosis and texted back telling him to rest well and to get better before excusing myself from the group to call our manager to get more details about how long Seungmin would need to get better and to talk about the changes to our upcoming schedule. When I had all the information I needed, I went back and informed the group about what was going on and everyone shared a look of sympathy for our second youngest. We soon went back to practicing, wanting to wrap things up soon so we could get back home early.

 Seungmin’s POV.:

As soon as I got back home, I shot Chan a text before plucking my phone in and changing into more comfortable clothes. The trip to the doctor had been exhausting and I just wanted to sleep. I struggled to find a comfortable position to lie in since my ribs were really sore and my entire body ached. In the end I settled for a semi-propped up position with a pillow in my back because I found that being upright kept the coughing at a minimum. Still, my sleep was fitful, interrupted by bouts of me choking on something that wasn’t there, often needing to sit up completely to catch my breath again. I was just dozing off when my members came back home.

As the leader, Chan was the first to check on me while the others prepared dinner. They didn’t want to overwhelm me so my friends came in one by one to give me a hug. Although I had skipped lunch, I had no appetite at all and it took some convincing for me to force down some of the soup they had made. Remembering the events of this morning, I begged to have someone put a bucket next to my bed, not sure whether I’d be able to keep my meal down or not. Hyunjin soon came in and placed one next to me before sitting down next to me on the edge of my bed and rubbing my back comfortingly. By now I was almost completely sure, I wouldn’t need the bucket but better be safe then sorry. My hyung’s hand on my back made me sleepy all over again and I rested my head against his shoulder, closing my eyes. I was almost asleep when Felix came I as well and felt them pull me back into a more comfortable position to sleep in, with my back resting against Hyunjin’s chest and our sunshine boy cuddled into my side. Whenever I woke up coughing, Hyunjin’s hand found its way to my chest, rubbing soft circles till I caught my breath again and Felix squeezed my hand gently to keep me calm.

 Jisung’s POV.:

Over the next few days we made sure at least one member would be with Seungmin at all times. He was a complete wreck, with the fever making him more sensitive, he was often crying from the pain and exhaustion. He never managed to get more than a few minutes of sleep before waking himself up with a painful, chesty cough and I know I was not the only one worrying. How could he possibly get better when he’s not able to get the rest he needs? Today we had a fanmeeting scheduled and were really uneasy about leaving our sick friend alone at the dorm. Trying to find a way to have one of us stay at home to care for him, we decided that I would be staying at home with him. My anxiety during fanmeetings was still high, though I could push through if I absolutely had to but today I convinced our manager that I couldn’t. I felt really guilty towards Stay who would now miss to members but my concern for my dongsaeng was stronger, I could only hope our fans could understand.

Soon the group left and it was only the two of us. Seungmin had been awake to have some breakfast with us, not fully voluntarily as we constantly had to force him to eat at least small servings to make sure he wouldn’t starve from his lack of appetite and we had helped him to the couch so he wouldn’t feel isolated in his room. He was currently dozing on the couch, bundled in his favorite blanket with some sappy kdrama playing on TV for background noise. My heart ached because he just didn’t seem to improve at all. Sure, bronchitis took longer to recover from than a simple cold but I hated seeing him in pain, often on the verge of crying. I wracked my brain on what I could do to make it more bearable for him. Probably the most important thing was for him to rest properly so I decided to make a pot of herbal tea that I sometimes used to help me sleep, adding a generous amount of honey for his cough and placing the pot along with his favorite cup onto the coffee table next to the couch for him to drink the next time he woke up. I also remembered the time when my brother and I both caught a bad chest cold during winter when we were kids and my mom gave us heating packs to put on our chests to have the warmth loosen the congestion. She had also gotten me a microwaveable teddy bear filled with grains and lavender, that could be used as a heating pack, a few years ago as I frequently got stomach aches from stress. With a glance towards my sleeping friend, I went to my room to get my comfort item and heating it up in the microwave. Seungmin started coughing a few seconds before the microwave beeped signaling for me to take the bear out and I grabbed it, making my way to the living room. There I found my dongsaeng sitting on the edge of the sofa, arms braced on his knees as every cough just seemed to be getting wetter and more breathless. I sat down next to him with the teddy on my thighs, rubbing him back reassuringly with one hand while grabbing a few tissues for him to spit into. He was still wheezing when he was done, tears streaming down his face. “It hurts so bad, hyung”, he gasped barely audible. “Your chest?”, I asked sympathetically and he nodded. “Just wanted to sleep, why can’t I sleep”, he cried. I hugged his shaky form from the side before pouring him some tea. “Here drink something and then we can try sleeping again”, I shushed him quietly. It took a few minutes for him to finish his drink, having to take breaks to catch his breath every few sips. After returning the empty cup to the coffee table I slid onto the couch behind him and let him lie down propped up against my chest, his head resting against my collarbone. “Minnie, I have this teddy bear that’s like a heating pack. I’d put it on your chest to maybe help with the soreness and congestion, ok?”, I whispered into his hear while carding my free hand through his messy hair. After receiving a hum of approval, I lifted the bear up holding it gently to Seungmin’s chest. I kept holding it their since it was quite heavy and I didn’t want to put the entire weight onto my dongsaeng, he was already struggling to breathe enough the way it was, not needing for me to make it even harder. His sigh of content was enough for me to know, that I was on the right way figuring out how to make him feel at least a tiny bit better. My worries about the weight of the heating pack were unnecessary though because Seungmin soon snuggled up to my arm and the bear on his chest, the exhaustion aided by the tea and the faint lavender scent emitted from the teddy bear soothing him to sleep.

I stayed there on the couch with him, watching whatever drama was now playing on TV with a half mind and scrolling through my phone at the same time. Seungmin had been asleep for the last three hours only huffing small coughs every now and then but staying asleep through it. That was a new record and I was slightly relieved to see him rest somewhat peacefully. When the time approached that our group would be coming back, I picked him up and carried him back to his bed so he wouldn’t be woken up by them. Although he blinked up at me sleepily, I didn’t think he fully woke up, his eyes already closing again when I tucked him in. I removed the bear from his arms, earning a hoarse whine, and went to reheat it before placing it back onto my donsaeng’s chest. Even asleep he quickly wrapped his arms around the comfort item sighing and I closed the door with a smile.

Welcoming my members home in the kitchen, I updated them on our sickie’s condition and everybody shared a relieved smile hearing about him finally getting some sleep. Despite Seungmin still needing quite some time and rest to get back to his usual self, we were now less worried for him and stuck by his side during the entire recovery process. I made sure to get him a similar heating pack to mine, the only difference being that his was not a teddy bear but a cute little puppy that we heated up for him every night and that he quickly fell in love with.

[portalford]

Another Life or Another Dream

AO3

Stanford Pines is seven years old and can’t sleep.

His brother, Stanley Pines—also seven—can’t sleep either.

These things may or may not be directly related.

“Sixer, s’like, the middle of the night.”  Stan, still mostly asleep, pulls a pillow over his face.

Ford, hanging upside down off his bed, swats the pillow away.  “It’s two in the morning, Stanley.”

“Yeah?  S’worse.”  Stan pats around for the pillow for about three seconds before giving up and tossing his arm over his eyes.  “Go back to sleep.”

“I can’t.”

That gets him one open eye.  “Didja try lyin’ down.”

“Yes, Stanley.”  

Both eyes open now.  “Bad dreams?”

Ford hesitates a moment, two, before admitting, “Yes.”

Stan is scowling, but Ford knows it’s not at him.  “Want me to go check in the closet?”

“No.”

“Under the bed?”

“No.”

Stan’s scowl has morphed into a frown.  He’s thinking.  

“I fell asleep reading a book about monsters,”  Ford offers.  Maybe if Stanley has more information he’ll be able to help.  “I didn’t get to the part about how to fight them—maybe if I read that it’ll help.”

Stan, wide awake now, stands up on his mattress so Ford doesn’t have to lean out so far.  “Want me t’ listen so I’ll know too?”

Ford had really been hoping for this, but he offers Stan an out, just in case: “You sure?”

“Yeah, dude.”  Stan bounces up; Ford catches his arm and helps drag him up into the top bunk.  “You think I’d miss a chance to punch a monster?”

“You wouldn’t miss a chance to punch anything.”

“‘Xactly.”  Stan pokes him in the ribs, right where he’s ticklish.  Ford scoots away before either of them can escalate things.  “Start readin’, Sixer.”

Ford opens the book to the correct chapter and clears his throat, like the announcers on the radio do when they have something important to say.  “All right.  ‘Changelings are fearsome creatures, but they are not invincible.  There are some weaknesses you can exploit, should you be faced with this beast…”

*****

Stanford Pines is twenty years old and can’t sleep.

Fiddleford is awake as well, but he seems happy with this state of affairs, blankets pulled up to his chin to ward off the chill of their poorly-equipped dorm and weighty book of advanced mechanics balanced on his knees.

Most nights, Ford is perfectly content to work well into the earliest hours of the morning, and sometimes straight through until classes the next day.

With the current state of his throat, head, and overall wellness, however, he would welcome unconsciousness over the awful half-alert state he’s been in most of the day.

A stifled cough escapes—his control is slipping, after twenty-three hours of forcing his mind and body to operate at normal capacity—and catches Fiddleford’s attention.

“Stanford?”  Fiddleford lowers the book just enough to see over it.  “Y’alright?”

Ford discreetly clears his throat.  “Fine, yes.”  Damn.  He still sounds like he’s dragging his voice over a gravel road.

Fiddleford’s book is lying in his lap now, disregarded.  “You sure about that?”  

He’s using the tone that means he knows Ford is lying, and that he’s allowing one more chance for Ford to tell the truth of his own volition.  Ford ignores it.  “Certainly.”

Fiddleford is glaring overtop of his glasses now.  “Stanford Pines, you are sick as a dog, and lying like one t’boot.”

Ford badly wants to make a sarcastic response, but he’s no longer sure he can speak without setting himself off coughing.  He settles for a shrug.

“Did you take anything?”

Another shrug.

“Heaven’s sakes, Stanford.”  Fiddleford tosses his book aside and bustles off to the drawer that contains various over the counter medications (his), snacks (his), and spare pencils (Ford’s).

Two minutes and no less than six furious and deathly sincere threats of shoving aspirin “down your stubborn gullet God help me I’ll do it,”  Ford has been coerced into taking painkillers and drinking a glass of water.  Fiddleford offered to run out and get soup and crackers, but Ford refused.  Fiddleford has a test tomorrow—he should be sleeping.

“It ain’t until tomorrow afternoon, knucklehead,”  Fiddleford says when Ford suggests this.  “I got time.”  A moment of silence.  “Still can’t sleep?”

Ford makes a vague gesture with his hand to the affirmative.  Now that Fiddleford knows he’s ill, there’s no need to try and keep up a facade of being well.

“My sister used t’read to me when I couldn’t sleep.”  Fiddleford hefts his book.  “This stuff’ll put me to sleep, and I like mechanics.  I bet it’ll work on you.”

“Bet it won’t,”  Ford rasps.

“I’m not takin’ that bet because you’ll kill yourself to win.”  Fiddleford fluffs his pillow behind him, clearly settling in for the night.  “I’m gonna read out loud and you can tell me to shut up whenever.”  He harrumphs and starts from what’s clearly the middle of a sentence in the middle of a chapter.  “—can be modified to accept most kinds of springs.”

Ford doesn’t tell him to shut up.

*****

Stanford Pines is twenty-eight years old and can’t sleep.

To be entirely truthful (and the rarity with which he is truthful these days, even to himself, would be disturbing if he could dredge up the energy to feel disturbed), he can’t remember the last time he did sleep.  Possibly three days ago.

Now, being unconscious while a multi-dimensional demon uses your body for nefarious means probably should not count as sleep, but the other option was to admit that he truly could not remember the last time he slept, and that was unacceptable.

So.  Three days ago.

His house is freezing.  He’s had this thought many times in the past however-long-it’s-been, and every time it takes him longer and longer to remember that this is because he fell behind on his heating bill at some point Before.

Absurd things, bills.  He should have built that self-sustaining generator and taken his house off the grid entirely.  Why hadn’t he?

Ah.  Yes.  

Anyway, the cold makes him sluggish, but not sleepy, so it’s nothing to be concerned about.  Imagine being concerned with something like the temperature.

Ridiculous.  There are thousands of things much more concerning than the measure of hot or cold, and he is dealing with approximately nine hundred and fifty-three of them.

This is not an exaggeration.  He did the math a few days (months? years?) ago. 

Oh, it would have been three days ago—he remembers because he came to groggy and wondering when theoretical mathematics made his ribs hurt.  His head, certainly, if the problem was knotty enough, but surely not his ribs?

Realization had set in a moment later (as had the ever-impending panic attack, but let’s not dwell on that).

The glass of water he’d been drinking falls from his hand, apparently for no reason.  He stares at it blankly, mind automatically attempting to draw patterns in the spattered liquid and crystalline shards of glass.

Another part of him offers some comparison between his own mind and the shatter-shapes of the glass.  He promptly silences that part.

He’s shivering.  Probably it’s why he dropped the glass.  Probably it’s the cold.

He tucks his hands under his armpits.  That should help.

Still.  Best not to sleep.

*****

Stanford Pines is fifty-something years old and can’t sleep.

His sleep schedule is haphazard, but the sleep itself is better than it has been in years.  Complete and utter exhaustion will do that for a man.

The nightmares don’t even wake him up every time anymore, so those ones don’t count.

Unfortunately, tonight he’s let himself go past ‘exhausted to the point of collapse’ and right into ‘exhausted to the point of being too wired to sleep’.

Nothing Bill has or ever will put him through could rival the sheer torture of this state of being.  He takes a moment to enjoy being able to think such a thing without fear that Bill will pull the thought from his head and use it against him.  Only a moment, though—his concentration is too fragmented for anything more.

He won’t take anything to help himself sleep—he never does.  He can’t.  A single moment of grogginess could be a moment too many, and he won’t take that risk.

He falls back on well-worn techniques instead—cataloguing the constellations of different worlds, conjugating pluperfect Kesslian verbs, translating a poem he heard at a campfire one time.

He doesn’t think about Earth.  Somehow that never helps.

There is one thing to say for running so utterly on empty:

once you fall asleep, you’re far too tired to dream.

*****

Stanford Pines is fifty-eight years old and can’t sleep.

He was asleep, until about thirty seconds ago.

He much prefers being awake.

His hands are shaking and his heart is pounding and judging from the pain when he twists to look at the clock, he probably wrenched his back again.

There is nothing yellow in the room.  The only omen of Bill is the remembered laughing cacophony in his head.

Sometimes, in more morbid moments, he fancies that the metal plate reinforcing his skull only gives Bill better ambiance and acoustics for his fits of hysterics.

His back is aching and it’s still hours before anyone else will be up and he can’t tell if the faint tremor in his body is from exhaustion or the nightmare.

He still prefers being awake.

*****

Stanford Pines is fifty-eight years old and can’t sleep.

It isn’t because of nightmares or illness.  There are no demons, real or imagined, and he isn’t lost in another dimension.

“And then what, Grunkle Ford?”

It is, in fact, because of two small children with an insatiable appetite for stories.

Ford smiles at Mabel.  She’s far more likely to air her impatience with his theatrical and intentionally-provoking pauses than Dipper, though her twin’s expression matches her eagerness.

“Are you sure you want to know?”  He asks, just for that little bit more.

Mabel does not disappoint.  She swats at him—she has quite an arm; Ford wouldn’t be surprised if Stan has been giving her boxing lessons—and yells “YES!”

“C’mon, Grunkle Ford, tell us,”  Dipper cajoles.

“All right, all right.”  He leans in, as though to tell them a secret, and they mimic the motion, eyes bright with anticipation.  “The ice would have crushed the boat if we had tried to go through—so we went over instead.”

Bafflement.  “What?”

“We flew.”

Astonishment.  “It was a flying ship?”

Ford laughs.  He can’t help it—their unfeigned delight at the strangeness of the universe reminds him of days when his eyes had been that bright, his wonder that unfettered.

He is living those days vicariously through them for now, for now, but—maybe not forever.

He has hope that he will live them for himself again someday soon.

He has hope for a lot of things now, actually.

It’s nice.

Mabel opens her mouth to ask what is probably seven or eight questions all at once, and lets the air out in an ear-piercing squeal as Stan swoops in from behind and swings her up onto his shoulders.  He catches Dipper with his other hand, tucking the boy up under his arm.  “All right, you little gremlins, time to hit the sack.”

“Awwww—”

“But Grunkle Stan—”

“Don’t ‘but Grunkle Stan’ me, kiddo.”  He gives Dipper a little shake, nearly dropping him in the process.  He is either not aware of or ignoring the fact that Mabel has stolen his hat and is trying to find some way to wear it that will not impede her vision.  “Ford’s got enough nerd stories to last ten of your young lifetimes.  Trust me—I’d know.”

Ford makes a bit of a face at that.  He has to stop it from twisting into a smile when Stan makes a much more exaggerated face in return.

“Could you do the monster chase game, Grunkle Stan? Please?”  Mabel’s eyelash-batting is entirely wasted due to the fact that Stan can’t see her, but it adds something to her plea nonetheless.

“What’s in it for me?”

“We’ll go to bed without complaining?”  Dipper offers.

“If you catch us we’ll pick up the whole yard tomorrow!”

Ford and Dipper give near-identical winces at Mabel’s recklessness.  

Stan, of course, is immediately sold.

“Done,” he says.  He swings Mabel off his shoulders and lets Dipper down, but keeps hold of both of them.  “Hope both of you are ready to lose all your free time.”

“Big words,”  Mabel challenges.

Stan snorts.  “On my mark—readysetgo!”

They’re off, Stan roaring in a fairly good imitation of the giant six-legged creature of unknown origin Ford had run across on D-272, and Dipper and Mabel laughing and shouting as they barrel toward the stairs.

It’s impossible to sleep through this racket.

Ford doesn’t mind at all.