#gets put on allergy pills now my skin has never been this smooth since i was a teen ?? kms

[kissingagrumpygiant]

So this whole time my acne was bc of allergies. This whole time

[daisybeewrites]

The Best Medecine

word count: 2.7k

warnings: fluffflufffluff

requested? no i just needed to see daisy take care of daniel

ship: dousy/daniel sousa x daisy johnson

PART 2!! idr have an authors note today, just enjoy :)

(gif not mine)

Daniel felt like crap. 

He had caught Daisy’s cold, and the effects were hitting him harder than a ton of bricks. 

Daisy had recovered fairly quickly after he smoothly convinced her to take the proper medicine and rest. They had a great few days where both of them felt alive and normal, not like zombie versions of themselves. Going grocery shopping (avoiding the soup aisle, they already had a freezer full), taking a day trip to hike the Eaton Canyon trail and picnic, testing out a new prosthetic Fitz designed, and pulling an all-nighter to binge-watch Grey’s Anatomy completed the week wonderfully.

Things were going great! Almost too great. Things never go this great in their universe. Which is why neither of them were surprised when Daniel shot up in bed at 4am sneezing, waking Daisy and, she joked, the rest of the street. He tried to go back to sleep, only to wake up with a loud achoo! ten minutes later. Daniel rubbed his forehead, the pressure centered between his eyebrows insisting that he was not going to get any sort of true rest that day. 

He told a sleepy Daisy that he felt fine, that he just needed a hot bath. It was probably just the spring allergies, right? Nothing to worry about, Daniel told himself as he swung his leg over the side of the bed, grabbing his crutches and lumbering to the bathroom. He splashed his face with warm then cold water before quickly checking that Daisy was asleep again, her silhouette rising with deep breaths, outlined in diffused blue light from the stars on the ceiling. Maybe he could shake this before it got too bad? Surely, it wouldn’t disrupt his routine too much?

Daniel quietly crutched to the soft couch, grabbing a blanket from the pile on the armchair. The flannel of the blankets and the comfortable give of the couch lulled Daniel into a restless sleep. 

Early morning turned to late morning turned to afternoon, Daniel only waking up from tossing and turning when Daisy shook him and offered a sinus pill, which he gulped down with an entire cup of cool water. Three ice cubes shaped like half moons knocked into each other as he tipped the cup back, letting the smooth liquid drown out the scratchiness in his throat.

A glance at the clock alarmed him, mentally calculating how long he slept. He noticed the second quilt that had been laid on top of him, the fleecy textile one Daisy frequently curled up with when she had a bad day. He could faintly smell her coconut and lavender conditioner. It tickled his nose.

“Sweetheart?” Daniel called weakly.

“Mmm?” Daisy hummed.

“I slept for fourteen hours?” Though he asked a question, his tone was almost a statement.

Daisy nodded, slightly smiling. “I think you caught my cold. Maybe cuddling so much wasn’t a good idea.”

Daniel chuckled a little, but stopped when he saw the flicker of worry in her eyes. He reached over to her and grabbed her hand. “I don’t regret any time spent helping you feel better, Daisy.”

She smiled, mirroring his expression. Their eyes both crinkled at the sides, happy gazes taking in the other. Daisy’s eyes still furrowed though, and Daniel cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the frog there before speaking. The action only scratched his throat, a string of coughs interrupting the couple’s staring contest. 

“Hey, could you bring me som—” Daniel was cut off by more crackling coughs. Daisy threw him a concerned glance. He could hardly keep his eyes open, hands clammy and forehead burning, body shaking with hacks. He could feel the dip in the cushion as Daisy moved to sit down beside him, resting her hand on his forehead. Her cool skin felt incredible on his. He understood why she liked it so much when he had done the same. 

He slowly opened his eyes, ignoring the dry, itchy feeling and opting to focus on Daisy above him. She looked beautiful, like an angel, with airy morning light surrounding her and two messy braids running down her back. She was his angel. His angel was smirking at the way he leaned into her touch. 

“These?” she asked, as she held up a small, blue box of tissues. He nodded, swallowing thickly before sitting up and scooting back to lean against the rounded arm of the tan couch. Daisy laughed quietly. 

“What?”

She continued giggling, her small laugh growing a little.

“What’s funny?”

Daisy leaned forward and rested a hand on his thigh for balance. 

“You’re wearing those pajama pants I got you for Christmas,” she explained. He glanced down, recognizing the tiny planets of their solar system dyed into the plush fabric. “They’re cute on you.”

He smiled, gazing at Daisy. Then he sneezed. Luckily, he picked up a tissue and covered his face in time to not sneeze in Daisy’s face. Daisy leaned back, laughing. Daniel started to, too, a low rumble in his chest diffusing the nerves he had felt. This was the first time Daisy had ever seen him sick. There was that one time in space when he had almost gotten (unintentionally) poisoned by alien coffee, but that was an unpleasant memory he didn’t want to dwell on. Other than that, not a single sniffle had popped up. 

Daisy suddenly stood up and slid to the kitchen in sock feet, a large grin on her face.

“Dais, where’re you going?” he wondered out loud. 

“The kitchen, duh,” she replied as she slid to the soapstone countertops, grabbing a red and white box out of the counter. 

Daniel recognized it as Daisy’s favourite tea, she had bought it on a mission in South Africa and became enamoured with it. Sometimes Daniel would catch her up at odd hours of the night, when she couldn’t sleep, out on the back patio drinking a steaming mug of Rooibos. He knew it was her favourite, and it had slowly become his, too. Lately, they have made a habit out of winding down from long days at work with mugs in their hands, on the couch or in the backyard, red-amber liquid relaxing their minds and limbs. Those were some of his favourite times with Daisy, spent talking and drinking their tea and laughing at reruns of sitcoms.

The sound of hot water trickling into a mug pulled him out of his thoughts. The mug in question was one he had made for Daisy—large and hand painted, artsy flicks of white and yellow and blue serving as reminders of their time in space. That was a modern invention he was particularly fond of (paint your own pottery, not space). It was mesmerizing to watch the colored, chalky paint glide onto the ceramic surface. He often went to this local hole-in-the-wall café that let you paint one of their mugs and bring it home, for an extra charge. Their coffee and ‘old-fashioned southern’ biscuits were delicious.

Daniel stared as Daisy danced around the kitchen, her fishtails swishing and hips swaying. There was no music, just her. She dunked the tea bag in a couple times and let it steep. When the tea was ready, she poured in a squeeze of honey and grabbed a shiny green bottle of cough syrup, carefully walking over to the couch. Daniel gently took the mug from her, using the corner of the blanket as a barrier so as not to burn his hands. Daisy sat on the coffee table across from him, smiling as Daniel took a sip. 

“Hot!” he exclaimed.

“I know I am, you don’t have to tell me,” Daisy teased. “Do you want some ice cubes?”

“Jemma would disapprove,” Daniel shot back.

Daisy rolled her eyes and sighed. “Jemma has put up with my odd tea-drinking since 2013. I already made the tea wrong, might as well make it so that you won’t burn yourself trying to drink it.” 

Daniel watched Daisy laugh. As ill as he felt, Daisy just being there helped tremendously. The tea soothed his scratchy throat and her laugh sped up his heart. He knew the pink dust on his cheeks couldn’t be attributed to fever alone. 

The pair sat in silence for a while as Daniel finished the tea, thankful for the warm beverage. His headache was slightly dissipating, due to the tea or Daisy’s light aura he wasn’t sure. He sat the mug down on the table and leaned up to peck Daisy’s lips. She leaned in a bit putting her hand on his chest to pull away.

“How about that bath?”

“Only if you come, too,” Daniel whispered.

Daisy chuckled. “You, lover boy, are sick. If we keep this up, one of us is always going to be sick. And plus, I need you distracted while I make a surprise!”

Daniel perked up, his slight pout disappearing. “A surprise…?”

“Yes, Danny-boy, a surprise. Which means I can’t tell you, so sit here and I’ll go fill the tub and then you can feel the full effects of that chill pill.”

Daniel leaned towards Daisy, confused. “What chill pill?”

“This chill pill,” Daisy said, leaning forward until her nose almost touched his. Daniel’s head swam with the scent of her silky blonde hair and vanilla lotion. She gently rubbed her hands up and down his arms and over his shoulders. He took a moment to watch the twinkle in her eye, the warmth resonating through him. He felt the tension from staying on the couch all day slowly release, his arms coming to wrap loosely around Daisy’s back in an attempt to keep her there. She shook her head with a grin and sat up, easing off the couch.

Daisy kissed Daniel’s forehead before walking down the hall to the bathroom. Daniel watched her leave, conflicted. Shouldn’t he be able to take care of himself? He had for years, why stop now? It isn’t like he couldn’t fill up the tub, or cook or grab tissues, no matter how light headed he got. Why did she want to help him? ‘Because I love you, you stubborn square!’ Daisy would say. He could practically hear her protest, ‘Just let me take care of you! It won’t hurt!’

 If he was honest with himself, that’s all he wanted. 

So, he did.

Daisy came back into the living room, the faint sound of water rushing creating a comforting ambience. He didn’t have his leg on, as laying around all day didn’t require it and he was more comfortable without the prosthetic cramming against the back of the couch. He reached back and grabbed the pair of crutches that were leaned against the arm of the sofa. Daisy walked with him back to the bathroom, making sure he didn’t lose his balance due to dizziness from dehydration. Apparently, that was one reason Daisy had felt so horrible after her mission, she had been so busy taking down bad guys that she almost took herself down, too. Even knowing that dehydration isn’t contagious, neither of them wanted him falling into décor à la Daisy. 

They reached the bathroom, Daisy running to their room to grab an extra set of sweats for Daniel to put on once he was done. 

While she was rummaging through drawers, Daniel carefully undressed and got into the deep tub.

The bath felt incredible. He could smell the lavender from the fancy epsom salt that Daisy had gotten him wafting up from small waves he created. The water was warm, but not so hot that it burned and not so lukewarm that it would go cold in a few minutes. 

“Dais, this is first-class,” Daniel called. 

Daisy giggled a bit before responding. “First-class?”

“I know you’re poking fun, but thank you. It feels amazing.”

Daisy peeked her head around the corner, nodding. 

“I'm glad you like it. Now I'm gonna go fix that surprise. Yell if you need anything, k?”

Daniel nodded and relaxed his head back, muscles slowly easing their tension and his eyes softly closing. 

“Oh, shit!!”

Daniel startled, bath water dripping over onto the towels lining the tub. Daisy’s exclamation didn’t seem pained, but he couldn’t help his brow from creasing. He felt fairly rested, he wasn’t sure how long he had been napping in the water. It had gone from pleasantly warm to tepid, he guessed around thirty minutes at the most. 

“Dais, everything alright?”

Daisy paused before responding, “Yep! Got it all under control!”

Daniel smiled and shook his head, figuring it was probably time to get out and troop back to the living room, anyway.

He grabbed the grip-bar beside the tub and eased up, sitting on the edge before swinging his good leg around and stepping onto the floor. He grabbed a towel off his hook on the wall and started to dry off. Daisy had set a pair of comfy pants and a shirt on the counter, which he pulled on before grabbing his crutches and making his way to the kitchen. Something smelled… burnt. 

He rounded the corner, stopping in his tracks. 

“Uh, Dais?”

“It’s burned, I know,” Daisy said, disconcertedly.

“Are you okay?”

Daisy was staring disappointedly at two bowls of seemingly okay soup. She gestured loosely to the sink, Daniel’s eye following. 

“Oh, okay, yeah, I see.”

There was a large pot sitting in the sink, filled with greyish water, black bits glued to the bottom. 

“I’m sorry. I know cooking isn’t exactly my thing.”

Sousa smiled, running a hand through his wet hair. Daisy’s hands fidgeted, rubbing at her neck.

“Is the soup in the bowls good?”

Daisy looked him up and down, a twinkle of mirth in her eye, like she knew something he didn’t. She shrugged, “The char adds flavour.”

At that, Daniel grinned and stepped forward a little, leaning against the counter next to her. “I’m up for some extra flavour.”

Daisy looked over at him with an odd expression. “Even sick, never fails.”

Daniel responded immediately, “Through sickness and health.”

Daisy’s eyes went wide. 

“Relax, I’m kidding. Mostly.”

Daisy’s posture slumped a little as she hit his bicep. “Funny. You’re a funny, funny man.”

He nodded and felt a deep laugh in his chest. “I am very funny, yes.”

Daisy squinted her eyes at him, turning and picking up their bowls of soup to set on the kitchen island. She slid onto one of the backless bar stools that served as seats for when she didn’t feel like being fancy and eating at a table. Sousa took a moment before following, leaning his crutches against the cabinet after sliding onto the stool across from Daisy. He picked up a spoon and tasted the soup, swallowing down a grimace and giving her a thumbs up. 

“It's great!” Daniel exclaimed.

Daisy pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows at him, tasting a spoonful. She was not as great at acting as Daniel was, and could barely keep herself from spitting it out.

“Oh, god, that’s awful!” Despite her wry expression, she was giggling as she picked her cell out of her pajama short’s pocket. Daniel eyed her, perplexed as Daisy hit a button in her .

“Yes, hi... Thank you. Can we get six egg rolls, a small veggie fried rice, a plate of crab wontons, and a small shrimp lo-mein?... Yes! Thank you!... Alright, we’ll be there in ten. Have a good evening!” Daniel watched as Daisy hung up, a bright grin slowly spreading across her face.

Daniel mirrored her, smiling wide. “Chinese food?”

“Yep,” Daisy nodded, popping the 'p'. 

Daisy slid lithely off the seat, grabbing the bowls of blackened soup and trashing them. She felt bad, throwing away food. She never got rid of food unless she absolutely had to. Old habits die hard. 

She turned around and gave Daniel a smile. She noticed that he wasn’t as pale, his face wasn’t as flushed and he wasn’t swaying like his head was full of air. Maybe she had helped more than she thought. They walked out to Daisy’s car, a metallic dark grey crossover with slightly tinted windows. Daisy got in on the drivers side, Daniel climbing into the passenger. She cranked the car and turned up the radio, checking that Daniel was okay. It was a slightly chilly evening, and the windows were rolled down just enough to let the air in. 

The evening felt great, the cool air and orange-pink sky refreshing their senses. Daniel’s eyes were soft as he gazed at Daisy. Even though he caught her cold, he had the feeling that Daisy was the best medicine. Lucky him.

Maybe things do go this great in our universe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

awwwwwww, cuuuuuuute! as always, feel free to drop a request in my ask box (linked in the bio) or comment any thoughts!! thanks for reading!!

[eddiesrichie]

Imperium-  Chapter 1

Woooahh thanks for the responses already! I’m really happy you guys are so excited for this fic. I am also pretty excited XD

It’s amusing reading what people think Richie’s power is. No one has guessed it hehe and I honestly doubt anyone will. 

Anyway, this is the prologue. I’m going to start chapter one and hopefully have it up next weekend. Thank you guys so much, and I hope you guys like it. 

Huge thank you to @reddieinthestars for being my beta <3 she really fixed it up. She’s amazing <3 

Eddie is on the run. He hightails it through the maze of boisterous students filling up the hallways of Derry High School, keeping his eyes locked on his best friend’s auburn hair in front of him. He can feel the hand tugging on the loop of his backpack, and he knows it’s Stan trying not to get lost as well. Eddie looks back to make sure the fourth person, Beverly, was still in their line, and she was.

They clamber into their first class, choosing to sit on the far side of the room as they always do. Bill takes the front seat; Eddie takes the chair behind him. Stan takes the seat to the right of Bill, while Beverly takes the seat to the left of him.

It’s silent for a moment between them as they get their notebooks and pencils out. Eddie takes an aspirin out of his fanny pack, swallowing it whole without water. He’s gotten over the need to use liquids with his pills. Eddie places the bottle of medicine on the corner of his desk.

“Hey, Eddie, I s-s-saw a sign saying that tra-track was having try-outs on F-Friday,” Bill brings up, turning around slightly to make eye contact.

Eddies hums with a nod. “I saw that too, and I am definitely going. You guys will come too, right?” he asks hopefully.

Beverly smiles sweetly, “Of course we’re going to go. We’ll be that group of kids just screaming in the bleachers for ya.”

Eddie groans, “Couldn’t imagine you guys doing anything else.” Stan chuckles from his chair, as he fumbles with his camera.

Eddie reaches for his backpack for one more thing, and his elbow accidentally hits his medicine bottle, knocking it off his desk. He doesn’t react; his heartbeat barely rises. There isn’t a colliding noise - or any noise at all - from the object hitting the floor.

Because it doesn’t touch the floor.

Eddie sets his planner on his desk before looking to his right to find his bottle and a few spilled pills floating in the air around it. He mutters, “Thanks, Bill,” and he collects the dropped objects.

“N-No problem,” Bill answers. “You would prob-probably lose ev-everything if it weren’t for m-me,” he teases.

Eddie flicks the back of Bill’s neck, “Shut up, Big Bill.”

His cheeks are beaming red, knowing that Bill was right. He once leaned too far over the cliff at the Quarry, and the walkman headphones on his head had fallen, pulling the music player out of his hand and over the edge. If it weren’t for Bill, he would’ve had to run to beg his mother for a new one, and she’d only bought him one in the first place when he’d convinced her that he needed it for school. She had always whined about it deafening him one day.

But then, she had a complaint about everything he did. Walking to school? Kidnapping. Bugs. Allergies. Not wearing clothes to bed? Hypothermia. There was nothing he could do that didn’t result in something outrageous in her mind.

Her poor little ‘Eddiebear.’

He remembers the first time Bill used his powers. He, Bill, and Stan had been sleeping over at the Denbroughs’ house, and they were trying to reach the highest shelf in the movie cabinet. They were only eight, so they were pretty short at the time. Bill and Stan were now nearly two feet taller, while Eddie had only grown a little bit over a foot since then.

Apparently, Bill’s parents gave him permission to watch their first scary movie by themselves. It was ‘Halloween’ and it was on the highest shelf. Bill was standing on a crouched Stan, reaching blindly for the movie when it happened.

One minute it was lying tauntingly on the shelf, and the next minute it flew right at Bill’s hand. Bill had no control over his new powers, so it ended up flying across the room and barely missing a lamp. The room had gone from all three boys arguing about how to retrieve the movie to complete and utter silence.

“That is so cool,” Eddie had finally whispered. That comment was followed by the rest of the night being spent with all three boys staring as Bill used his telekinesis power on random things.

Bill went from moving small objects to being able to move a car. His power made his house seem like a magic wonderland when Bill had his breakfast, tools, silverware, plates, and pans are floating idly in the air.

In short, Bill’s power was the coolest.

Until Beverly moved to Derry. She had him beat.

She could make plants grow. With a short glance, she could have flowers and vines growing all over a house within minutes. She could bend branches with her mind and a wave with her hand.

Eddie remembers his first interaction with Beverly Marsh. He had been sitting leisurely in a lawn chair watching his mother work in her garden. It gets quite cold in Derry, so his mother had been tending to her plants daily by that time in the month of October.

The plants had looked dead and unable to bring back, but his mother was anything but easily discouraged.

Imagine both of their amazement when the plants began gaining their color back and growing rapidly. His mother had shrieked in joy and got up to dance in her flowery overcoat.

Eddie looked to his right and found Bill standing next to a grinning girl. She had short red hair and was wearing a pink, buttoned dress. She waved at Eddie with her fingers before continuing her walk with Bill down the street.

Eddie was out of his chair and running after them in moments.

He, himself, was the third person to find his power. His power was the reason they never had to go to the doctor again.

It happened on a school day when the group was headed to the nearest doctor’s office. Henry Bowers had socked Bill right in the nose, breaking it and leaving Bill with blood gushing down his chin and onto his shirt. It was a sight for sore eyes that almost led to Eddie vomiting on the way there.

Bill nearly ran into a stop sign, and Eddie was quick to steer him away. Without thinking, Eddie kept his hand around Bill’s forearm incase his friend were to wander into some other obstacle.

To be fair, Eddie didn’t know he did it in the first place. No one would’ve.

Beverly had been talking about her score on the latest math test when suddenly there was a cracking sound and Bill howled in pain. He fell to his knees with both his hands on his nose. Eddie and Stan immediately stopped next to him, asking if he was okay.

Tears and blood were smeared on Bill’s face, and Eddie winced in disgust at the sight of it when Bill removed his hands. He thought of all the germs, but he shook his head to get rid of those thoughts. But then, Eddie tilted his head in confusion.

“Uh, Big Bill? Were you trying to fix your nose yourself?” Eddie asked bewildered. He squinted at the sight, no longer seeing the awkward, broken angle Bill’s nose had been in. He set his hand on Bill’s thigh to move closer without losing his balance.

Bill’s eyebrows furrowed. “Of course not. Why would I – Ow!”

Bill’s hands were being held by Stan, so he couldn’t automatically reach up to cover his nose again. The group of friends watched in amazement as something moved inside the injured boy’s nose with a pop. Blood flowed down Bill’s face and chin now, as if some dam was parted. Eddie scrambled for another bag of Kleenex he kept in his fanny pack.

Bill took the Kleenex gratefully, but he looked elsewhere. He reached up and weakly tapped his nose, then started to squeeze it. “I…I think my nose fixed itself?”

Stan shook his head. “No, your power is telekinesis. Don’t be greedy, Bill,” he joked lightly. Though, he also looked incredibly confused with the situation.

“One of us has a healing power,” Beverly states. She puts both her hands up. “You guys know my power, and I wasn’t touching you.”

“Wait,” Ben spook up. He pulled out a piece of paper out of one of his notebooks, and brought it to his pointer finger and slid it over the skin. He hissed in pain as he gave himself a papercut. He then thrust his finger towards Stan and Eddie. “I wasn’t touching him either, so it was one of you.”

Eddie backed up slightly at the blood forming in bubbles on Ben’s finger. He can practically hear his mother screaming at him about disease and the dangers of blood transfusions.

‘AIDS, Eddie!’

Stan reached out and wrapped his hand around Ben’s forearm. When nothing happened, Stan released his hold with a shake of his head. “Not me.”

Eddie’s face went red, his body shaking in excitement. He copied Stan, wrapping a hand around Ben’s forearm. The group watched in bafflement as the small cut stitched up and the skin smoothed over in merely a minute.

Eddie’s face widened with a smile, but then pain radiated through his own finger. He jumped back with a shout, “Ow!”

He looked over to find Ben holding the paper. Ben must have given Eddie a papercut too. “Why did you do that?”

Ben was too busy observing Eddie’s finger to answer. Ben bites his lip. “I guess you can’t heal yourself.”

Eddie glanced down at his finger and sure enough, it was still bleeding. He shrugged and pulled out a disinfectant wipe. “Guess not.”

Ben’s power was the most entertaining finding out.

Ben had left the room when the group decided they wanted to play hot potato since Stan’s mom was baking potatoes for Thanksgiving. Bill was the one to initiate it, tossing the potato at Eddie, who screamed and threw it over to Beverly.

The kitchen was full of laughs when Ben walked in.

Bill laughed, “Catch it, Ben!”

Bill threw the potato over to Ben, who caught it in one hand and held it with confusion written on his features.

“How are you holding it for so long? Throw it!” Beverly shrieked.

“I…I don’t know. Is it hot or something?” Ben asked with a raised eyebrow.

Once the group settled on Ben having a heat manipulation power, Ben used it all the time to scare people. He almost gave his mother a heart attack when he reached in the oven to grab the pan of brownies. He also surprised Beverly once by taking her unpopped bag of popcorn and heating it with his palm, causing the kernels to pop.

Imagine both Ben’s and Beverly’s red faces when someone mentioned that maybe they were meant to be because of their powers.

That was what they learned in eighth grade. Two people are ‘meant to be’ if their powers are polar opposites or their powers correlate to one other.

That led to several excited, whispered conversations among the group of friends.

Beverly and Ben immediately got red in the face since someone pointed out that their powers correlate in a way. Plants need heat for energy – to thrive.

The other members of the group grinned ear to ear because they all knew Ben had the biggest crush on Beverly, and Beverly was subtly dropping her own hints. After learning that maybe they were meant to be, the two began talking more and being around each other more. One day, Beverly took Ben’s hand in hers. They were now dating.

Eddie worried about his potential soulmate so much, he had an asthma attack because his power was healing. What if his ‘soulmate’ person had the opposite power? What could that possibly be? Killing people? What kind of person would they be? Why would he be with them if they could kill people?

A few nights after that lesson, the group had a sleepover at Bill’s. Bill’s little brother, Georgie, - who went missing the summer after – had come into the living where they were sleeping and cried about a nightmare he’d had.

Thirty minutes passed and nothing was helping the poor boy stop crying. He kept rambling about some clown chasing him into the sewers, and how it felt so real. Bill tried every method in the book, but he couldn’t calm his little brother down.

Until Stan woke up.

Stan woke from a particular shriek from the younger boy, and he sleepily trudged over to help Bill calm the younger boy down.

Stan only looked at Georgie for maybe twenty seconds before Georgie’s tears begin to dwindle, and his eyes start to flutter shut. It seemed like magic to watch the distraught boy become calm and happy with a small smile on his face. Georgie mumbled, “Thank you, Stannie.”

Eddie watched Georgie gallop his way back to his bedroom, the nightmares clearly forgotten. He looked back at Stan, and his eyebrows shot up.

Bill was looking at Stan with pure amazement and awe in his eyes. A smile was on his lips, that Eddie wasn’t sure if Bill knew was even there. Stan was looking back shyly.

“I guess I can control emotions,” Stan finally announces to the group. “That’s pretty cool.”

The group immediately grew enthusiastic over Stan’s power, claiming that yes, it was super cool. Bill didn’t comment, instead staring at Stan like he held all the answers in the world.

Apparently, Bill took Stan’s power as a sign of them being meant to be, which Eddie didn’t find at all surprising because he wasn’t dumb. Bill would’ve used anything to prove that Stan and him were meant to be.

Since Bill could control physical objects and Stan could control mental spaces, Eddie assumed it made sense. Whatever the case, Bill and Stan seemed pleased.

Eddie soon found that Stan felt the same way when he walked into the kitchen the morning after, and he found them kissing right next to the stove.

Now in high school, Eddie glances down to find Bill and Stan holding hands under their desks. Bill lightly rubs a thumb along Stan’s knuckles, and Eddie wonders where his soulmate was.

A bell rings, signaling for all classes to begin.

Biology is simple enough, and the teacher seems nice. The teacher’s name was Mr. Debrew, and he lets each student introduce themselves one by one. After Bill and Stan introduces themselves, Eddie stands up for his turn, but then the door slams open and two boys dash in trying to catch their breath.

“Sorry! My dog chewed up my alarm clock’s plug. A-alarm didn’t go off!” one boy rambles out, holding a hand to his chest to calm his breathing.

The other boy speaks up. He was wearing black rimmed glasses, and there was a wide grin on his face. “We were totally irresponsible and played videogames all night, so we would’ve definitely slept in if it wasn’t for his mom,” he adds as he points to the darker skinned boy behind him.

Eddie snorts. Beverly laughs.

The teacher finds it amusing too. “A sleepover the night before the first day of school? Did your mothers know about this?”

“We’re brothers,” the first boy tells him.

The boy with the glasses wraps an arm around the other. “Can’t you tell the resemblance, Teach?”

Mr. Debrew’s face goes startling red, and he clears his throat. He picks up the roll call’s clipboard. “Your names, please?”

“Tozier. Richie Tozier,” the taller one answers. Eddie laughs at the James Bond tone the boy used. Richie makes eye contact with him, and Eddie’s stomach flips at the way he’s smiling at him.

“Mike Hanlon,” the other boy states.

“You boys can take your seats. I’m about to start a lesson on cells,” the teacher instructs. Richie salutes him before walking off, taking the chair right behind Beverly. Mike takes the chair behind Stan.

Richie lightly kicks at the back of Beverly’s chair, who turns around and faces him. Richie puts his chin on his palm and flutters his eyelashes. “Come here often, senorita?”

Beverly smirks, running her fingers through her hair. “I do indeed, handsome. Want to skip class and make out under the bleachers?”

“I would love to, but,” Richie purrs with a thumb pointing at Eddie. “I do believe I caught the eye of a total nerd with a fanny pack.”

Eddie looks at Richie with a glare. “As if. Plus, who are you to be judging what other people are wearing? Do you know what you’re wearing?”

Richie glances down at his attire. He was wearing an old blue shirt with darker blue shorts. A red Hawaiian flannel covers most of his shirt, and he was wearing converse shoes with socks reaching midway up to his kneecap. He winks at Eddie with a shrug. “I didn’t have much of anything to work with. I only had the clothes your mom had for emergencies this morning.”

Eddie scrunches up his face. “You’re disgusting!”

“And you’re cute! What’s your name?”

Eddie gapes at him before spitting out, “Eddie Kaspbrak.”

“Well, Eds, no need for me to ask what your power is,” Richie sing-songs. “You have the power to steal hearts.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie groans. “Are you deaf or something? I said my name is Eddie. Not ‘Eds’.”

“I told your mom my name is Richie, but she had plenty of other alternatives…”

“Shut up!”

“Beep, beep, Richie,” Mike speaks up from the other side of Eddie.

Bill raises an eyebrow. “What do-does that mean?”

“It’s just what my mom came up with when Richie takes something too far,” Mike explains with a short glare to Richie.

“I can already tell we’re going to say it all the time,” Stan comments with a huff as he writes what’s on the board.

“Well, Eds, can call me whenever he wants-“

“Beep, beep, Richie!”

Tag list: 

@dandeliontozier @crazyfanperson @strangerclown @automncflcur @kitkaysmeow @rrichiettozier @ineedcafffeine @fangirl-and-proud4 @ihavemoregayshipsthanfriends @sad-synth @vaguelyambitious @reddieadd @spooky-cat-lady @tozierbraks 

[toosicktoocare]

For you @aki-draws-things, who asked for sick R taking E to the beach because he promised E he would! 

I hope you like it, sweets!

There are many things, Grantaire has come to learn over the years, that Enjolras has missed out on thanks to strict parents and a scheduled childhood, but when Grantaire learns that Enjolras has never been to the beach, he makes a firm promise to take Enjolras as soon as finals are through.

Since then, he’s had the whole day planned beautifully. He and Enjolras are going to swim, find seashells, lounge under the warm sun, and just enjoy the beautiful setting mother nature has to offer.

What’s not a part of the plan? Being sick.

The day they are set to leave, Grantaire wakes to a dull throb thumping against his temples, and that’s paired with a runny nose and itchy throat: all tell-tale signs of a cold. Of course, he thinks as he slips from bed carefully to not wake Enjolras. Of course he would get sick the day he’s going to introduce Enjolras to something new, something beautiful.

He shuffles quietly to the bathroom of their shared apartment and winces at his pale, sunken reflection in the mirror. Strands of hair are clinging to his temples, and he presses the backs of his fingers against his cheek to feel a slight warmth that has him reaching for the thermometer.

In just a minute, he’s frowning at the blinking 100.2 degree reading. It’s not bad, he tells himself as he puts the thermometer away and grabs a bottle of fever reducers. He pops two into his mouth and dry swallows them with a grimace. He’s hoping these will work because he’s not going to back out of his promise to Enjolras; he can’t back out of his promise.

“R?”

Through the mirror, Grantaire can see Enjolras standing in the doorway behind him and rubbing at tired eyes with hair falling out of his loose top bun. “Hey, sleepyhead,” Grantaire says before quickly turning the tap onto cold water and leaning forward to splash water across his face. He only leans up when he feels a lazy finger tracing down his spine.

“What are you doing?” He asks as he blinks water from his eyes and reaches for a hand towel to pat dry his face.

“Giving you a hint of what we are going to do on the beach.”

Grantaire gasps, and the sharp inhale of air grates against his throat and leaves him coughing. He presses one fist to his mouth and uses his free hand to wave away Enjolras’s sudden look of concern. “Choking… on air,” he manages out between coughs.

When his coughing tampers off, he shoots Enjolras an incredulous look. “You know we can’t have sex on the beach, right?”

“Why not?”

“Because there will be other people there. Families. Children.” 

“We don’t have the beach to ourselves?”

Grantaire snorts and shakes his head. “No. Unless you want to wait until winter and get hypothermia and die.”

“That doesn’t sound very pleasant.”

Grantaire laughs at this and plants a kiss to Enjolras’s cheek. “No, it does not,” he agrees before stepping around to give Enjolras the bathroom, only to stop when a strong hand latches onto his wrist. He glances over his shoulder with a frown.

“You’re okay?” Enjolras asks.

Grantaire’s lips curl back up into a smile, and he nods. “I’m okay.”

*****

Grantaire is, in fact, not okay.

The drive to the beach, itself, was rough and filled with stifled sneezes and weak coughs that he had to blame on allergies. Enjolras, of course, had allergy medication on him and offered some to Grantaire, and Grantaire couldn’t decline. He chased the pills down with one of the waters in the cup holder before thanking Enjolras for being as prepared as ever.

And now, with the two on the beach, Grantaire is wondering how it’s possible to feel cold despite the sun beating hard against his back as he stumbles through sand to find an empty spot. But, it’s worth it, he thinks as he tenses his muscles to fight against the chills no doubt brought on by a spiking fever.

Enjolras is all wide-eyed and grinning like a child as he kicks sand around and snaps his gaze in every direction as if he cannot get enough of the sight, and Grantaire would have come today even bleeding out from a bullet wound if it meant getting to see Enjolras like he is now.

“You weren’t kidding about how many people would be here.”

“Nope,” Grantaire replies as he spots an empty spot the two can set up in. He points toward it, and the two hurry against the hot sand to snag the area before someone else can.

It takes them roughly ten minutes to get the large umbrella and chairs set up in a way that meets Enjolras’s standards, and once they finish, Enjolras is already slipping his shirt over his head.

“Can we?” He asks, already glancing toward the vast ocean with eager eyes, but Grantaire shakes his head and holds out a bottle of sunscreen.

“Believe me when I say you do not want a sunburn,” Grantaire says as he squirts some onto his hand and motions for Enjolras to turn around. He begins smoothing the lotion across Enjolras’s defined back, hands freezing when Enjolras giggles quietly.

“What?”

“This is just like in the movies.”

It’s Grantaire’s turn to laugh, and he shakes his head and continues rubbing the lotion along Enjolras’s golden skin. “You’ve lived such a sheltered life.”

“Until I met you.”

“Until you met me,” Grantaire agrees.

Once Grantaire finishes with Enjolras, Enjolras offers to return the favor, and the second the cold lotion makes contact with Grantaire’s sensitive skin, he shivers.

“Sorry,” Enjolras apologizes as he speeds along the process.

“No worries,” Grantaire tells him before he chomps down on his cheek to keep himself from freely shivering.

“Your skin feels really warm,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire can hear the frown in his boyfriend’s voice as he’s directed to turn around until the two are facing each other.

“You’re flushed,” Enjolras adds, but before he can reach a hand toward Grantaire’s cheek, Grantaire deflects with a devious grin.

“Forgive my blushing,” he starts before leaning in closer to brush his lips close to Enjolras’s ear. “This is just something that’s always been in my fantasies.”

“R!” Enjolras shouts, cheeks coloring a deep red as he beats a weak fist against Grantaire’s bare chest, and Grantaire laughs before snatching the bottle of sunblock from Enjolras.

“Let me finish this really quick,” he says, still laughing as Enjolras quickly looks away to stare off at the ocean. He’s quick despite his shaking hands, and once he’s through, he tosses the bottle close to their beach bag then steps forward to lace fingers with Enjolras’s. “Ready?”

Enjolras nods eagerly, and the two walk hand-in-hand toward the water. They go slow, for Enjolras isn’t the strongest swimmer, and it leaves Grantaire in agony. The water feels like ice to his sensitive skin, and it nips uncomfortably at him and has pain shooting up to his head. He clenches his teeth together and powers through to the best of his ability, thankful that Enjolras is so distracted by the surfers out in the near distance.

When they are about waist deep, Enjolras pulls him into a kiss, but Grantaire is quick to stop Enjolras before their lips can meet, prompting Enjolras to pull back some with a questioning frown.

“There are kids watching,” he points out, motioning toward a family tossing a beach ball around somewhat close to them.

“That hasn’t stopped you before,” Enjolras presses. “What is it you always say? ‘These young children should thank us for showing them what same sex relationships really look like.’“

Grantaire can vaguely recall saying that once, or twice. Okay, he says it almost anytime he and Enjolras kiss in public, but he waves a hand toward the ocean with an over-dramatic sigh. “E, we shouldn’t waste time doing something we can do at anytime! I mean, look around you!” He pauses, hand gliding along the water. “There’s a whole world down there, you know?”

“The only world I need is right in front of me.”

Grantaire curses under his breath. Enjolras is playing dirty, really dirty. But, he can’t kiss him; he won’t risk getting Enjolras sick as well. “Find me a sand dollar, and then we can kiss as much as you want. A whole sand dollar; it has to be intact.”

Enjolras spares him a sharp gaze before he sucks in a deep breath and dives under the water to feel around the ocean floor. The second he’s under, Grantaire gives into the itch in his nose and turns to sneeze sharply into his elbow, once, twice, three rough times that leave him groaning weakly as the force of each sneeze seemed to go straight to his head.

He’s just massaging him pulsing temples when he feels something latch onto his ankle and pull, and next thing he knows, he’s falling back into the water with a loud smack. His head goes under, and when he shoots back up with harsh coughs, Enjolras is laughing beside him.

“I like this whole beach thing,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire barks out a few more coughs before turning toward his boyfriend with narrow eyes.

“You shouldn’t unleash the devil unless you’re ready to walk the bridge of hell.”

“What?”

Grantaire’s lips curl up into a devious grin as he gets to his feet, and seconds later, he’s lunging toward Enjolras to dunk him.

*****

For two hours, the two mess around in the water. Grantaire can feel himself growing steadily worse, having to cough and sneeze in secret when Enjolras is under the water still desperately searching for the sand dollar, and he’s beginning to feel almost numb from how cold the water feels to his overly sensitive skin. Despite this, his pounding head feels as if it’s on fire, and he’s having to keep his back to the sun to keep the merciless rays from his hot face.

Finally, the two opt for a break, and Grantaire is more than happy to get out of the icy water. He keeps his cool despite his wavering vision as the two walk hand-in-hand once more toward their area. Grantaire’s disappointed to find that he’s still thoroughly chilled through even out of the water, and he rubs one of their dry towels gingerly across his skin and around his hair to try and bring back some semblance of warmth.

“Isn’t there a souvenir vendor on the pier?”

Grantaire glances around, eyes squinting at the pier. “I think so? Why?”

Enjolras only smiles, sharp and slightly devious. “I’ll be right back.”

Grantaire wants to question further, but Enjolras is already jogging across the sand toward the pier with his wallet in hand. Grantaire takes the alone time to give into the coughs that are building in his chest, and he coughs and coughs until he’s doubled over and barking out harsh coughs that take his breath away.

He’s dimly surprised at how bad they sound and how long they last, and he can faintly hear someone approaching him and asking if he’s okay. He forces in a few ragged breaths and straightens his back out with a wave of his hand.

“I’m,” he starts as he turns to see a lifeguard watching him with a face pinched in concern. He wants to say fine because he is fine. Only, his vision is suddenly growing dark, and he’s shaking like a leaf from head to toe. All he manages out is a weak “shit” before he’s falling as everything goes dark.

*****

“-he okay?”

Grantaire groans and rolls his head to the side as everything goes silent once more.

“-happened?”

He’s really wishing people would shut up and stop pulling him from sleep anytime now.

“-bad fever.”

At this, Grantaire’s eyes snap open, and he shoots up into a sitting position with chesty coughs that burst from his chest and up his throat.

“R!”

“Easy.”

Grantaire blinks through the dizziness coating his vision; he wants to know who the owner of the second voice is, and when he can finally make out faces, he sees a lifeguard and Enjolras both hovering in front of him with striking looks of concern.

It takes a solid minute for Grantaire’s mind to supply that he passed out, since he’s now sitting when the last thing he remembers is standing. “I-”

“Are you sick? Have you been feeling sick? Why didn’t you say?” Enjolras’s words tumble from his tongue, and Grantaire can hear his boyfriend’s emotions at war with one another, with anger and worry competing to take center hold.

“I don’t have a read, but you’re running a high fever, and that cough of yours doesn’t sound too good. Were you feeling sick before?”

Grantaire’s gaze drags between the two before it falls to his hands. “I maybe wasn’t feeling well when I woke up this morning.”

“Dammit, R!” Enjolras spits out before he shoots to his feet and rakes trembling fingers through his damp hair.

“E-” Grantaire tries, only to be cut off by harsh coughs once more. He hears Enjolras drop with a low thump back to his side, and moments later, a warm hand finds his back.

“You may want to get him to a doctor.”

“We have two friends who practice medicine. I’ll take him to one of them.”

Grantaire pays attention to the conversation despite his chest burning and lungs exploding.

“Why don’t you get him back to your car? I’ll have a friend help me pack your stuff up, and we’ll bring it to you.”

Grantaire hears Enjolras mutter a quick thank you, and then he hears the familiar jingle of keys before he’s being guided to his feet. His legs are unsteady, but Enjolras’s arm snakes around his waist, and he leans into the steady weight as his coughing tampers off.

“E, I’m sorry,” Grantaire mutters, but Enjolras remains tense and silent at his side, and the silence remains for an uncomfortable time. 

Enjolras doesn’t utter a word as the two get back to Grantaire’s truck. He keeps quiet as he helps the lifeguards load up their equipment, and he remains eerily silent as he starts the truck and heads back toward the city.

It isn’t until about an hour into their drive that Enjolras suddenly pulls off onto the side of the interstate. Grantaire is half-asleep and curled in on himself, ridden by guilt and chills, but the sudden stop of his truck has him blinking to Enjolras.

“E?”

“You can’t do this.”

Grantaire turns his gaze back to the windshield.

“Seriously, R. How many times do you think you can push yourself like this? One of these times, you aren’t going to wake up.”

The want to fight back, to tell Enjolras that he does it too, is there, but Grantaire only shakes his head. “I’m sick. I’m not dying.”

“You didn’t see what I saw, Grantaire.” Enjolras says, voice cracking enough to have Grantaire looking toward him with a frown.

“You were just lying there. You looked so still, and so pale, and I just-”

“Hey,” Grantaire leans toward him and places one hand atop of Enjolras’s. “I’m okay. I promise. I just really wanted to take you to the beach.”

“I’m not worth you pushing yourself like this.”

“Yes you are.”

“R-”

“Enjolras,” Grantaire interrupts with a weak cough. “You can say shit like that all you want, but that’s never going to change that I would do anything for you.”

Enjolras sighs at this and places his hands around the steering wheel, gripping it until his knuckles turn white. “Then you will do as I say and not argue when I take us straight to Joly’s. Combeferre is meeting us there.”

Grantaire nods and keeps his gaze locked on Enjolras until the latter eases the truck back onto the interstate. They keep quiet for another twenty minutes, and Grantaire is just drifting off once more when he feels something drop into his lap. He looks down and blinks at a fake sand dollar, still with the $4.99 price tag.

“For next time.” Enjolras says without looking away from the road. 

“This is fake.”

“You never said it had to be real, just whole.”

Grantaire nods at this, and picks up the fake sand dollar with a soft smile, feeling almost as if the small item is breaking the tension between the two.

“I love you,” Grantaire tells Enjolras as he flips the sand dollar around in his hands.

Enjolras is quiet for a moment, but then he breathes out a low sigh.

“I love you too.”