#sicktember day nineteen

[fanfictasia]

Sicktember Day 19

Alt. Pounding Headache 

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from The Mushroom Strikes Back

“What’s your name?” Anakin inquires, resting a hand on his fighter lightly for a moment. The dizziness is fading, but he still has a pounding headache.

“Oddball, sir,” he replies, and he can feel the clone staring at him, through the helmet, though he’s not quite sure why.

He’d tell him to just call him ‘Anakin’, but he doubts Oddball or any of the clones – except maybe Cody would be comfortable with that.

“If you’re not hurt, we should find cover and call for a pickup,” Anakin decides, finally. There’s a battle on the ground, but he doesn't know where they landed. It could be right in the middle of the Separatist forces. 

Towering trees loom around them on all sides, which makes it hard to see far, but he can hear the far-off sound of blaster shots. Maybe, this could also be an ideal time to attack the droids from behind. But first, they need to know where they are.

It would help if his head would stop hurting.

And why is Oddball still staring at him?

“What?” Anakin asks, finally.

“Your eyes,” Oddball blurts.

What? “What… about them?” Anakin asks, slowly, confused.

“They’re blue,” he offers, sounding like he’s feeling a little foolish now, “I’ve never seen blue eyes before.”

….oh.

Well, that explains a few things, and considering that for all that they look like they're twenty, they’re in reality only ten, it makes sense he’s so infatuated at the notion it’s possible.

And he could probably think of something to say better, that wouldn’t make Oddball more uncomfortable, if he could actually think. Which he can’t, because he doubts this headache will be fading for a while.

But he’s saved from having to answer at all when a blaster shot suddenly rings out very closeby. They scramble for cover behind a nearby tree, and Anakin reaches out with the Force, to see what he can sense.

People are approaching, which means clones. Maybe, they landed in the right area, after all

[monaisme]

Sicktember: Day 19

#19- Hypochondriac Tendencies

Something was off. Tony was sure of it.

Yes, he’d been working on repairs to the Mark 48 before the next Avengers emergency, and trying to troubleshoot the issues with the new Starkphone for R&D, and figure out how to tweak the graphic card for their latest gaming computer simply because Peter thought it was so cool, and yes, he’d been hunched over a workbench for the better part of four hours, but this felt different.

He cast a quick glance at his wrist, intent on checking his vitals one more time via his watch, but the screen showed nothing but the time. 1:17pm.  

“What the hell, FRIDAY?” Tony called out as he pulled off the watch. “What’s this?”

“It would appear to be your most current incarnation of the Starkwatch, Boss.”

Tony exhaled slowly. He would forever regret the personality algorithms he’d slaved over for FRI. “Alright, smartass, if we’re going to play the game, my watch has stopped transmitting my stats. Do me a solid and run a diagnostic on it, would you?”

If Tony hadn’t known better, he’d have sworn there was an uncomfortable pause.

“I’m sorry, Boss.” FRIDAY replied. “Your watch is completely functional. Ms. Potts has reimplemented the “Tony Is Trying To Make Stuff Up To Get Out of Another Board Meeting” protocol and has locked down your health tracker until further notice.”

Tony scowled. “Again? I swear—I never should’ve given her that kind of access.” he grumped. “And what kind of shit name for a protocol is that anyways?”

“It’s the name Ms. Potts provided, sir.”

“I know,” he rolled his eyes and squeezed the back of his neck with his hand to provide some relief. “Just—I thought I was doing better. How long am I locked out for this time?”

“Ms. Potts has specified that the lockout run a full forty-eight hour period, sir.”

“And how many times did I actually check to deserve this?” He was almost afraid to find out.

“You’ve accessed your pulse, blood pressure, and heart rate monitor fifteen times since you entered your lab at 9:57am, sir. That, coupled with meetings set in your calendar, triggered an automatic denial of access per the protocol and Ms. Potts has been notified.”

“Perfect.” Tony bit out as he picked up a screwdriver from his workbench and whipped it across the room and into a table of scrap parts Peter would usually scavenge through for his projects. It was very seldom that he lost control like that, but sometimes Pepper wouldn’t listen and... “I keep trying to explain—!” Tony started then stopped before starting again, “I mean, what happens if I decide to have a stroke and die during the lockout?” Not that Tony expected something like that to happen, but the frustration at her lack of understanding was almost too much. He was sure she’d understood when he’d first told her, instead—

“Boss. There is a recorded message that I have been instructed to play in the event that you do trigger this particular protocol. Would you like the audio version or—”

Tony paused, then realized what FRIDAY had just said, “Hang on. What do you mean, ‘this particular protocol?’ Are there more?”

“Yes, Boss. There are three other protocols in play—”

“Nope!” Tony waved his hands in air, basically shutting FRIDAY up. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m done. But I swear, FRI, if something happens, on your head be it.”

“As you wish, thought it should be noted that you did not provide me with a head, Boss, and I’ve queued the audio clip. Would you like me to play it for you now?”

Tony dropped his head in defeat. “Sure thing, just keep the volume reeeeeal low, okay?”

“Understood.” FRIDAY replied. “And, if this is any comfort to you, in the event that you do lose consciousness anywhere on Stark Industries property, I can notify emergency medical personnel immediately.”

“Gee, that makes me feel so much better,” Tony snarked. “Or I could just, you know, have access to a vital feature on my own personal device.”

“I’m afraid you’ll need to discuss that with Ms. Potts.” FRIDAY stated as a matter of fact. “But while the audio message is playing, I am also to remind you that your presence is required in Ms. Potts’ office at two o’clock this afternoon for a progress check-in with the various team leaders for the Research and Development Department.”

Tony glanced over to his work bench and the projects screaming for completion. “Perfect.”

“As well, today is ‘lab day’ and Mr. Parker is expected to arrive at the tower at four o’clock.  Would you like me to place your standard pizza delivery at an appropriate hour, or would you prefer for Mr. Parker to choose something when he arrives this afternoon?”

Tony perked up immediately at the mention of his favourite teenager.  “Is it Tuesday already? Hot damn! Maybe I’ll be able to force myself to get through this meeting after all! Four o’clock, you said?”

“Yes, Boss.”

“An end to this miserable day is in sight! Yes! And I think I’m feeling a little cheeseburgery today. Why don’t you order something for us from that little diner Pete’s scary friend likes instead of pizza? Grab an extra couple of orders of fries and a chocolate milkshake so he can dip ‘em like the weirdo he is, too. Got it?”

“Got it, Boss.”

Tony glanced at his near useless watch. 1:33pm. There was just enough time to deal with the Starkphone before Pepper jumped down his throat again.

And at least there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

/-/-/

While he wasn’t one hundred percent positive, Tony was pretty sure he was dying. All he had to do was keep upright in the elevator, get back to the lab and breathe a little and hopefully things would settle like they had the last time Tony’d had a—

Nope.

Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropists did not have—

The elevator door opened and he stumbled out, loosening his tie and taking off his sunglasses as he approached the door. He pressed a thumb to the biometric scanner and almost wept when he heard the lock disengage. He could make his way across the lab to the couch, lie down for a bit, try to figure out how he could make the laundry list of impossible tasks that the R&D folks were demanding of him happen even though he was the freakin’ boss while also figuring out how to manage his Avengers tasks as the decidedly not-boss and then let his body figure out how in the ever lovin’ hell it was supposed to draw in oxygen again.

“Mr. Stark?”

“Shit!” Tony clutched his chest as he flinched and lost his balance as he threw himself back into the workbench he’d been set at only hours before and knocking the components of his Mark 48 onto the floor. The clatter had Peter ducking for cover while covering his ears against the crash.

It registered a beat too late.

Peter. 

He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t see Tony—not like this!

But it was too late. Peter knew.

The boy approached his mentor tentatively. “Uh, Mr. Stark? Are you okay?”

And wasn’t that the question of the hour?

Tony fumbled with the sunglasses still in his hand, trying to put them on but gave it up when he realized his hands were shaking too much. Instead, he simply plastered on his ‘Tony Stark Media Star’ smile and stuffed his hands in his suit jacket pockets. “I’m fine,” he answered in a totally convincing, not weird at all sort of way.

“Are you sure?” Peter gave Tony a once over. “You’re looking a little—funny?”

“Ouch,” Tony patted his chest, played up to the bit, “way to get me right here, kid. I’ll have you know I’ve been on People’s ‘Sexiest’ list for twelve years running.”

“Be serious, Mr. Stark.” Peter stared, unimpressed.

“Bigger ouch. Tough crowd.”

Peter crossed his arms and waited for an explanation, and when none came, he spoke up again. “I know you think it’s creepy when I do this, and I’m really sorry about it, but, uh, your heart rate is sorta’ fast. Have you had Ms. FRIDAY scan you yet today?”

Tony’s faux-grin dropped and he shook his head, ‘no.’ “What do you mean exactly?” Of course his heart was racing, but what if Peter had heard something else?

Peter shrugged, “I’m not sure what I’m hearing, Mr. Stark,” Peter replied. “Ms. FRIDAY?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Parker. I am unable to access the protocols necessary to do as you’ve requested. I could suggest bringing Boss up to the med bay for evaluation if you are concerned.”

Peter didn’t bother to ask why the AI couldn’t do something she was more than capable of on any other occasion. And Peter knew Mr. Stark well enough that he would not appreciate being dragged all over the tower and risk being seen. No way. But Mr. Stark needed help and Peter was apparently the only one who could offer it.

He scanned the lab, looking for anything. The AED was sitting prominently on the wall next to the wash station, but that wouldn’t do them any good. And the first-aid kit was stocked to the gills with anything one would want or need for burns, bruises, stitches, and anything else that a little gauze and tape could patch up, but this?

And then his eyes fell on his backpack. “Got it!” he exclaimed, and then Peter was across the room, tossing textbooks and notebooks out of the bag and onto the floor so he could grab his mask and put it on.

“What? What are you--?” Tony panted out as he gave up on pretending.

Peter tugged up the sleeve of his sweatshirt and fussed with his own official Stark brand wristwatch for a few seconds before it came off then pressed it to Tony’s wrist. “Karen, can you take a comprehensive reading for me, please? Tell me what we’re dealin’ with?”

Tony almost sagged in relief. Such a clever boy.

Tony couldn’t hear her reply. “Of course, Peter.”   

The two stood awkwardly together while Peter listened to Karen’s diagnostic results and then Peter offered a, “Thanks, Karen,” then put his watch back on and pulled off the mask.

Tony was still trying to get his breathing under control.

Peter waited a second before he said anything, and then blurted out, “Did you know that butterflies can taste with their feet, Mr. Stark?”

Tony blinked, played back what the kid had said in his head and then blinked again. “What?”

“Yeah, they use something called chemoreceptors. Apparently it helps them identify plants.” Peter said, completely sincere in his offering. “Cool, huh?”

Tony thought about it before he drew in a bigger breath and answered back, “I guess so?”

“And owls don’t have eyeballs—they have eye tubes.”

Tony just shook his head. “That sounds kinda’ gross, kid. I call bullshit.”

Peter paused for a second and shrugged. “Maybe? MJ had us all looking up weird animal facts in the cafeteria at lunch today and there was a list. Now that I think about it, I should be doing a better about confirming stuff like that before spreading it around.” Peter tossed his mask over to the backpack where the rest of his suit was hiding, then pulled his phone out. “Wanna check on the owls while I do the butterflies?”

Tony didn’t have the energy to do much else. “Sure.” At least his hands weren’t shaking as much when he pulled his own phone out.

They made their way the few steps to the couch and sat in what had fast become their designated ends and became absorbed in their tasks. Not that it took long for them to find what they’d been looking for.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Tony muttered. “Eye tubes are apparently a thing?”

Peter popped his phone back into his pocket, “And so are tasting feet. Nature is weird.”

“Agreed. I’ll take metal and tech over eye tubes any day of the week.”

 And then neither of them said anything... until Peter broke the silence a few minutes later.

“Do we need to run a diagnostic on Ms. FRIDAY, tonight?” he finally asked. “I mean, she should have caught that, right?”

Tony sighed and let out a long, slow breath. “FRIDAY is working just fine, kiddo.” Tony put an arm around Peter’s shoulder to reassure him and leaned back into the couch. “I imagine Pepper got a little frustrated with my insanity and figured she needed to shut me and my hypochondriac tendencies down.”

Peter had to process that for a second. “Uh, but you literally just needed FRIDAY and you couldn’t access her? Wouldn’t that mean that she’s actually trying to kill you?”

Tony barked out a laugh. “No, Pete. I’m pretty sure she’s just pissed off, though we’ll definitely need to have a chat about adjusting some parameters, I think.”

They got quiet again, and then, “Well, pissed off or not, that wasn’t very kind of her.” Peter slapped a hand over his mouth as he expressed an opinion he had no business in holding.

“It’s okay, Roo. Right now, I don’t disagree.” Tony closed his eyes as he melted further back. Panic attacks took a lot out of him. “But I can understand where she’s coming from, I guess. I have a job to do—and it’s not like I haven’t given her reasons to get irritated with my ‘behaviour’ in the past.”

Peter didn’t look impressed. “If she loves you, it shouldn’t matter.”

This kid was too pure. “Nah,” Tony opened his eyes and tilted his head to look over at him. “Even I can agree that I’m a little much sometimes... and by a little, I mean even my parents didn’t really like me so I’ll take what I can get when I can.” Tony chuckled at his own joke.

“Mr. Stark!” The indignance on Peter’s face, that someone couldn’t love their own child. “No way! I don’t believe you! And even if I did believe you, that doesn’t justify—”

Tony put a hand up to halt the tirade he was working up to. “Kid, you’ve read the biography, right?”

Peter nodded, ‘yes.’

“So you know Pep has been dealing with my crazy for a long time. First, the palladium poisoning,” he started. “Granted, I was hiding the fact that I was technically dying from everyone but I’d been so diligent about tracking saturation points and trying to find a balance with my diet and anything else I could think of.” Tony huffed a laugh, “You know, it’s actually one of the reasons the Starkwatch was so ahead of the competitors when we’d first released it. I’d already done all the field testing for myself. Using it to buff up or tech marketing was a no brainer, and Pepper was happy.”

“But—”

“Peter.” Tony cut him off yet again. “It’s okay. I haven’t even gotten started about these damned panic attacks.”

Peter did not think any of this was okay. He chewed at the inside of his cheek, obviously thinking of what he was going to say next.

That it bothered Peter so much bothered Tony more than he’d thought it could. “It’s really, well... I’m fine now—and this is all stuff for the grownups to deal with anyways.”

Peter glared. “I’m fifteen,” his cheeks flushed, “and I know what it’s like to be scared for reasons that make sense and still make no sense at all.”

Tony saw that this wasn’t sitting well with Peter, and he was working himself up to say something important, so Tony bit his tongue.

Peter Benjamin Parker had the floor.

“When I was little, I had a really hard time after my parents died.” Peter blurted out. “Like, a ‘I wouldn’t leave May or Uncle Ben because I was afraid they’d die if they left my sight’ kind of hard time.” His eyes widened in his own panic as he realized what he’d just blurted out.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Tony said softly, sitting forward to give the kid his full attention now that he could draw a full breath.

“Yeah, thanks,” Peter almost brushed the condolences off. “But there’s more. You see, Aunt May had a nurse friend who’d been gifted a new stethoscope by her family. Aunt May had told her friend about me and what was goin’ on, and between the two of ‘em, they came up with a plan. The friend gave Aunt May her old stethoscope for me to use, so I could double check that everyone I worried about was okay whenever I was scared.”

Tony’s heart melted a little. This poor kid. “Peter.”

But Peter shook his head to stop him and shrugged. “It’s okay now, I promise.” He said it in such a way that Tony wondered if it wasn’t really, but Peter kept going, “I’m just thinkin’ what it would have been like if someone decided that I was being dumb and needed to be done checking on everyone before I was ready to stop on my own, is all. So I get it.”

Huh.

“Besides, panic attacks are no joke, and maybe Ms. FRIDAY would have caught it earlier if you were being monitored?”

 He wasn’t wrong.

“Just—It bugs me that it happened, and I’m sorry that someone did that to you, and I’m especially glad I could loan you my stethoscope today.” Peter bumped into his mentor affectionately. “Have I mentioned how much I love my steth—I mean AI lately?”

And Tony’s heart swelled at the sincere affection.

... Maybe it was time to have a different kind of conversation with Pepper?

FRIDAY broke the moment when she spoke up, “Boss, your dinner delivery has just arrived in the lobby. Would you like me to have someone from security bring it up to you?”

Tony heaved what must have been his millionth sigh. “Yeah, FRI, thanks,” and then he looked over to Peter. “Wanna check out that graphics card I was telling you about after dinner?”

[ao3feed-irondadspiderson]

Day Nineteen: Hypochondriac Tendencies

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59105173 by OBlossom “What the hell, FRIDAY?” Tony called out as he pulled off the watch. “What’s this?” “It would appear to be your most current incarnation of the Starkwatch, Boss.” Tony exhaled slowly. He would forever regret the personality algorithms he’d slaved over for FRI. “Alright, smartass, if we’re going to play the game, my watch has stopped transmitting my stats. Do me a solid and run a diagnostic on it, would you?” If Tony hadn’t known better, he’d have sworn there was an uncomfortable pause. “I’m sorry, Boss.” FRIDAY replied. “Your watch is completely functional. Ms. Potts has reimplemented the “Tony Is Trying To Make Stuff Up To Get Out of Another Board Meeting” protocol and has locked down your health tracker until further notice.” Tony scowled. “Again? I swear—I never should’ve given her that kind of access.” he grumped. “And what kind of shit name for a protocol is that anyways?” Words: 3036, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 17 of Sicktember 2024 Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Iron Man (Movies) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Tony Stark, Friday (Marvel), Peter Parker, Pepper Potts, (offscreen) Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark Additional Tags: Sicktember 2022, Day nineteen, Hypochondriac Tendencies, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has Issues, Panic Attacks, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Peter Parker, Mentioned Pepper Potts, Pepper Potts is So Done, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, TW: Panic Attacks read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/59105173

[alright-anakin]

Sicktember 2021 Day 19 Alt 5: Asleep on the Couch

@sicktember

Day Nineteen: Alt. Five: Asleep on the Couch

“Are you sure you’re alright, General?” Rex’s concerned voice reached Anakin’s ears and he slowly looked up.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he insisted. “Really.” Nevermind his head and body ached, and his stomach kept cramping randomly, for seemingly no reason. At least, none that he could think of. Maybe he was coming down with something. Why was it he always seemed to get sick after campaigns? He supposed it was better than falling ill on a campaign, but still. He barely kept from grimacing when his tummy cramped again.

read more here

[zartophski]

Sicktember Drabbles, Day Nineteen: Crying

Wind wasn’t supposed to see him like this. Time was always so careful when he was around them, but he supposed even the Old Man had his limits. He didn’t look very old now, sitting on the floor next to Twilight’s bed, staring at the hero with silent tears slowly eroding away the last remnants of his unflappable resolve. 

He couldn’t leave Time like this. Wind padded into the room, plopping down next to him and latching on in a hug. “He’ll be okay.” Time hugged him close, burying his tears into the Sailor’s shoulder.

[dontfeeltoohot]

I decided to really attempt this whole thing this year. Some prompt fills will be shorter, some will be longer. Most likely they'll all be Stranger Things related. I hope you enjoy!

Sicktember - Day One - Do You Even Know How To Take Care of a Sick Person - Steddie (Canon) - Sick Steve

XXX

When he wakes up, his head is fuzzy and his limbs feel like jello, but like they weight 1000 pounds each. Cracking his eyes open feels like a big achievement, and his cheeks feel unnaturally warm- the cool pillow is like heaven. The clock reads ‘8:04 AM’ and Steve realizes he’s supposed to be at work, but he can’t get his body to move. 

“Hey Stevie.” 

“Mmmgh.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Eddie chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to his hair.

Shivering, the younger man turns his head and looks at his boyfriend, whose brow is furrowed, mouth turned down into a frown. He doesn’t like seeing Eddie frown, especially not when he’s the cause of it. 

“Feel like shit,” Steve admits, shutting his eyes back, fumbling blindly for Eddie’s hand to hold. 

That’s the thing about Steve Harrington. He will work himself into the ground, ignore the warning signs of illness, then try to power through whatever he’s caught. Except this time, there were no warning signs. He’d been a little tired last night, but he’d certainly not felt unwell. Whatever he’s got, it’s hit fast and hard. 

“You look and sound like shit too,” Eddie jokes, pressing the back of his cool hand to Steve’s overly warm one. A moan escapes Steve’s mouth involuntarily. He can’t find it in himself to care much. 

“Already called Robin to let her know there’s no way you’re coming in, told her I’d be watching over you. Her exact words were ‘Do you even know how to take care of a sick person?’ I’m not that dumb,” Eddie grumps slightly. 

Steve lets out a weak laugh, which turns quickly into a cough. Eddie rubs his shoulder, and Steve whimpers, trying to turn away. His skin feels overly sensitive, even the blanket feels like it’s making him ache more. 

“Sorry, jus’kinda hurts,” he explains, not wanting Eddie to think he doesn’t want to be around him. 

“No problem princess. I’m going to get you some water and meds okay? You just rest.” 

Steve watches him go, eyes barely open. Sleep starts pulling him under while he waits, and soon the nineteen year old is dreaming once again.

[dontfeeltoohot]

Sicktember Day 15 - Sunburn - Pre-Steddie - Vampire AU

He’s good at avoiding most sunlight. He keeps his jacket when he’s outside, his hair is long and shields most of his face. The bits of skin that do get sun are usually able to withstand the heat and rays for the amount of time he’s out in it, which is minimal. Hawkins is about as sunny as it is overcast or rainy, which definitely works to his advantage. 

Of course, Steve fucking Harrington invites him to a get together at his house, and tells him to bring a swim suit, that he has a pool and they all usually congregate out there and then head in to watch a movie when it gets dark. And of course, Eddie says he’ll be there, because he’s a love sick dumbass. 

All hope that maybe Saturday will be overcast and dreary is dashed when the long haired man watches the sun start to rise at six am. He turns the news on like usual for he and Wayne, and the woman says the high will be 86, and it’ll be sunny all day. Fucking fuck. 

The thing is, it’s not as if sunlight actually burns him like in the movies, it doesn’t. But it makes him feel drained, makes his skin feel uncomfortably hot. His powers start to become fuzzy and weak, and though yes, he technically can go into sunlight, he very much prefers not to. The longest he’s been in the sun was around twenty minutes, and he’d felt ready to pass out, only he physically couldn’t. 

And now….well there’s no turning back, as he waits for someone to invite him into the Harrington’s place. After ringing the doorbell, he waits five seconds and then Steve opens the door, smiling a little. 

“Eddie, hey man, glad you made it. Come on in,” Steve is standing there in just red swim trunks, no shirt on.

Nodding, the twenty year old walks into the house, black backpack; carrying a brand new pair of cheap black swim trunks and an old towel of Wayne’s, slung over his shoulder. Looking around, he notices that the house feels more like a museum than a home, and it makes his non-beating heart ache. 

“Yeah, thanks uh, thanks for inviting me.” 

“Do you have swim shorts? I have extra if you need any,” the nineteen year old assures as they walk through the living room and kitchen. 

“I have some in my bag, but thanks. I’m not…I’m not a big pool guy, usually,” he tries to explain. 

Even without the whole vampire thing, he’s not sure he would have been in many pools growing up anyway, not with a deadbeat dad and a mother who was working more than she was home. Feeling uneasiness start to make a pit in his stomach, he walks outside with the other man, grateful when he notices that at least some parts of Steve’s backyard are shaded. Unfortunately, the pool is right in the middle with no shade anywhere close by. 

God he’s fucked. 

For a bit, he hangs out under the shade closer to Steve’s house than the pool, laughing with Jonathan about California and all the different ‘rules’ they have there. Jonathan finally decides to go into the pool after prompting from Argyle, and he knows there’s no getting out of it now. 

“Eddie, come on!” Robin splashes the water forward as hard as she can, spraying just a small amount onto the long haired man’s legs. “We get your pale, have Steve put sunscreen on you or something.” 

“Let me go change,” he grabs his bag and forces himself to slowly walk inside, keeping up a humans pace until he shuts the back door. 

As he changes, Eddie stares at himself in the mirror of Steve’s downstairs bathroom. He’s pale in a way that’s not sickly but it’s not entirely healthy either. There’s no warmth on his cheeks, no blood in his body to create the capillaries to cause any flush at all. At least, no blood that’s being truly pumped and oxygenated, no blood he’s made himself. The only blood in his body is that of animals he feeds off of. 

Slipping his clothing off, the twenty year old slides into his new swim suit, feeling vaguely uncomfortable. Right, people are waiting. Get it together Munson.The second he steps outside, his skin starts feeling warm. Eddie’s forgotten what exactly it feels like, the sudden sting that settles into skin and starts warming up his entire body. 

“Woah, bro. You’re paler than Jonathan, and that’s like, saying something.” 

Eddie turns to chuckle at Argyle, giving him a half smile. 

“Munson genes, we all got porcelain skin,” he shrugs, brushing hair away from his mouth. 

As he gets in, the water doesn’t help much with how warm his skin feels, but he ignores it in favor of keeping his attention on the others. Robin and Nancy are laughing and Steve is splashing them, while Jonathan and Argyle float contentedly in tubes. Moving to where Steve is, he gives a grin, splashing the man from behind.

“Shit!” 

Laughing, Eddie scrunches his nose up and grins, his oddly long canine teeth exposed. 

“Sorry, King Steve,” he teases playfully.

Suddenly, water splashes him, and from there it’s an all out war. Ten minutes later of chasing around the pool, of splashing and dunking, and everyone; because of course they all joined in, is tired. Eddie leans against the wall of the pool, shifting so sunlight isn’t directly hitting him. He feels oddly exhausted, something he’s not at all accustomed to, and he leans his head back with a thunk to the tile. 

As minutes pass, the long haired man’s skin hurts. It’s no longer just an uncomfortable sensation, but verging on painful. Standing completely, he sighs. 

“I’m going to find some shade,” he announces, thinking he should also grab a beer to make himself look at ease and comfortable with them all. 

Just another thing he has to think about now- eating and drinking. He doesn’t need food, everything tastes bland and identical, but humans eat, and if he didn’t drink something on a hot day like everyone else, people will question him. Getting out, the twenty year old heads to the cooler near the door and pops open a beer can, taking a few sips. He can hear Robin approaching before he knows he actually should. 

“Hey, I’m glad you came,” she smiles genuinely, which makes Eddie smile right back. 

Robin Buckley is an anomaly and he enjoys getting to learn more about her. Sometimes he wants so badly to listen to her thoughts, to know how her brain works, but he doesn’t do that. He’s not going to do that to any of his friends. They trust him, and even if they don’t know he’s doing it, the guilt isn’t something he can deal with. 

“I am too,” his hair drips onto the stone ground. 

“Come lay out with me? You might even get a tan,” she jokes, and Eddie bites his lip. 

“Mm, I’m getting pretty hot, honestly, I don’t kn-“ 

“Please? Nancy’s going to lay out too,” and damn Robin and her fucking earnest face. 

“Fine. Lead the way, m’lady.” 

As he lays baking in the sun, Eddie wonders if the blood he consumed earlier has evaporated from his body. His body feels like concrete as he tries to raise his arm. Not good, this is not good. 

“Hey, uh. I need to…” he swallows, though he’s not sure why, it’s not like he needs to. “I need to go inside, I’m really hot.” 

Both girls look at him, worry clouding their eyes. He must sound bad, because Robin is yelling for Steve, and Eddie isn’t sure he’s ever felt like this, like he wants to sleep, not since turning, at least. Steve’s suddenly right next to him, a hand on his shoulder. It hurts more than it should, the weight pressing against him. 

“Your skin feels ok, so you’re probably not overheated.” 

His skin is usually thirty degrees cooler than an average humans. Fucking shit. 

“I really need to go inside,” Eddie forces himself to sit up. Moving feels like he’s going through molasses, and it makes his head swim. Not. Good. 

Standing, Eddie makes his way into Steve’s house, Robin and Steve following him. He sits a few feet from the door, dropping down to lean against the wall. His shorts are dry now, his hair barely damp, curls wild and frizzy.

“Lemme get you water,” Steve says suddenly, as if remembering from all his life guard training. 

“Are you okay? We can get a cold pack or something, or-“ 

“I’ll be okay…does Steve even own a cold pack?” He keeps his eyes shut, listening as Robin’s heart beats starts to slow from his joke, her breaths evening out.

“I can check,” she laughs. “But doubtful.” 

Steve arrives back with not only a cup of ice water, but a cold, damp washcloth. He moves long hair away and then the fabric touches the back of his neck. Instantly, some of the intense heat dissipates. 

“Thanks. Sorry for uh,” Eddie waves a hand around lazily. “I’m not an outdoors guy, this is just one reason,” he jokes, deciding that self-deprecating humor is a good choice. 

“It’s all good dude, why don’t we order some pizza and we can watch a movie or something.” 

“I’m down for that.” 

It’s how Eddie ends up stretched across Steve’s couch, Robin and Argyle assuring they want the floor while Nancy and Jonathan sit on the other couch. Eddie’s lap is in the ex swim captain's lap, and he has to remind himself to pretend to breathe. When everyone else is asleep hours later, Eddie tries to take everything in, wanting to remember how fun of a day it’s been all things considered, before he silently gets up to go and find an animal to feed on in the woods near Steve’s house. 

[dontfeeltoohot]

Sicktember Day 11 - Emergency Room - Steddie - Season 3 TW: Drugs Not exactly sure what this is, I was thinking along the lines of panic attack, but could be something else entirely. Enjoy!

When Eddie pulls up to the house of some football player at Hawkins High, black lunchbox in hand, he’s entirely unaware of the night ahead, and the fact he’s going to probably have nightmares about it for months. Parking his van as close as the numerous other cars will allow, the long haired man slips into the house through the unlocked door, wincing. Music is being blasted, and at least two dozen teens are dancing and thrashing around in the middle of the room. 

Cups and paper plates litter the floor, and Eddie hates nights like these, where most everyone is already drunk. Sure he can jack the prices up and make more money, but despite what others say, he’s a nice guy. A nice guy who refuses to sell to incredibly drunk individuals who could overdose easily. 

Walking around, Eddie lets his presence be known but makes sure not to become anyone's full attention. Finding a good corner to hang out at, the dealer waits as people slowly stop by throughout the next hour. Everything is fine until one Steve Harrington walks over. He looks high as a kite already, eyes shiny, face pale. Stumbling slightly, the ex swim captain clears his throat. 

“H-Hey man, uhh…” 

Eddie raises an eyebrow, watching the usually charming Harrington struggle to talk. 

“King Steve,” he drawls. “As much as I would love to give you something, I don’t deal to people who are already high. What’d you take?” 

Steve’s face falls, cheeks flushed, and he shakes his head. Eddie can’t help but be impressed that the man’s hair stays perfectly coiffed and in place. 

“I haven’t taken anythin’ man…I uh..” he swallows, hands trembling. 

“Oh you definitely took something Harrington,” Eddie rolls his eyes. 

The look on the other's face looks so genuine and confused, though, that Eddie starts reconsidering. If he’s really not taken anything, then what’s going on?

“Have you been drinking shit? Leave the thing unattended?” 

Again, Steve shakes his head. 

“Somethin’s wrong man, y-you’re like the only sober person…”

And oh shit. This is a real problem. Like, an adult problem that is probably more than anyone at the party can handle, himself included, even if he’s nineteen. Pushing himself off the wall, he grabs Harrington’s hand and yanks him outside into the cool air, and then sits him on the grass. 

“What’s going on? What’s wrong?” 

“I d-don’t know… I can’t…” Steve’s hand shake more, his eyes bright and a little panicked. 

Watching, Eddie sees sweat accumulating on the man’s hairline, notices that it looks like he’s struggling to breathe. 

“Harrington! Hey! What’s wrong?” 

“I can’t b-breathe…I don’t know…” the air he does suck in sounds rattly and weak. 

Fuck. 

This is bad. This is so bad. 

Trying to think, Eddie bites at his lip. This is a huge party, with beer and drugs and so many people. If he calls for help, he’ll go to jail, because as much as Steve fucking Harrington sucks, he’s not going to leave the guy alone like this. Weighing his options, he grabs Steve’s hand again. 

“Alright man, can you walk? I’m gonna get you help ok?” 

The walk to his van is rough. Steve’s struggling more, looking a little grey. When Eddie gets him in and buckled; forcing his mind not to think of Steve’s waist and how close he is to his dick, he rolls the windows down and floors it. 

Six minutes later, Steve trembling and gasping for air, leaning his elbows against his knees, the musician pulls up to Hawkins Medical Center’s Emergency Room. Yanking Steve’s door open, Eddie calls out for help, two nurses seeing and coming over. 

“I don’t know if he’s on shit, or what, but he can’t breathe, and I didn’t know w-what to do, and-“ 

“You did the right thing, we’ll get him taken care of. Do you know his name?“ 

A nurse wheels Steve inside in a wheelchair. 

“Steve Harrington. He’s uh. 18? I think?” 

“I’ll have you come back with us since you were with him. Your friend will be ok.” 

Eddie doesn’t tell them that they’re not friends, they barely know each other. He doesn’t tell them Steve had stood by while Tommy fucking Hagan yelled at him for being a queer, or that Steve had once shoulder checked him into a locker, snidely calling him a freak. Instead, he sits by Steve’s gurney and waits, playing with his rings and trying not to worry more than necessary about a guy he doesn’t know. 

[dontfeeltoohot]

Sicktember Day 7 - A Cry For Attention - Steve - Canon(Divergence, alive!Eddie) - TW: Blood/Wounds, Nausea (No Vomiting)

Two days after everything settles down from what felt like the end of the world, Steve realizes the bites on his stomach and back are hurting more, not less. That’s not supposed to happen, he’s pretty sure. Nancy had cleaned them, but it’s not like he’d had much time to continue the actions, not when Vecna had split open Hawkins.

He’s standing at the table in the gym, sorting out clothes by size, and watching Robin attempt to flirt with Vickie. Or, he’s trying to watch, but his back hurts with every breath, and his body feels like it’s on fire. He feels hot, and the man is realizing now that his hands are shaking. 

Pushing through, he gets another forty minutes of folding done before Steve finally pauses, walking over to where Robin is smearing peanut butter on a piece of bread. 

“Hey, mind if I get some water?” His voice feels wobbly- he feels wobbly. 

“Yeah s-“ the words seem to fizzle out and he knits his eyebrows together. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m just hot, there’s a lot of people around,” he waves off, clearing his throat. Steve Harrington is fine, he has to be. 

After getting a plastic cup of water and downing it, he goes back to his assigned table. The water sits uncomfortably in his stomach, as though it’s stagnant and not being absorbed. By the end of next hour, the nineteen year old is ready to head back to his house and sleep.

Of course, it’s not that easy. Will radio’s too Dustin’s walkie as they’re all heading out, words frantic. None of them catch exactly what he’s said, but the word ‘Vecna’ and ‘moving’ stand out. Seconds later, they’re jogging to Steve’s beamer, scrambling inside. 

Fire spreads throughout his body as he turns the key. With his back pressed against the seat, Steve can feel just how painful every single rip, tear and scratch is. His entire abdomen throbs in time with his heart beat. Feeling nauseous, Steve tries to keep his cool, ignoring Dustin and Robin’s rants about what could be happening. 

Arriving at the cabin, Dustin bolts out, slamming the car door behind him- Steve doesn’t have the energy to tell him not to. His eyes feel heavy and though he’s hot, his body is shivering. He feels like shit, he realizes. Like he’s back in 11th grade with the flu that had knocked him on his ass for a week. 

Standing shakily, the ex swim captain gets out, Robin following suit. Either he’s truly good at hiding things or Robin’s too preoccupied to notice when he stumbles slightly. By the time he makes it into the cabin, everyone else is standing or sitting around. The Byers, Hopper, the kid from California are all standing, but the rest of their odd little party is sitting, aside from Eddie, who’s pacing nervously. Steve decides to stand near the back, the idea of sitting again physically painful. 

As everyone talks, the nineteen year old takes a shaky breath, rubbing his face. Everything is hazy and muffled, and though he can’t see his face start to drain of color, he can feel his body drain of energy. A noise crawls it’s way out of his throat, something between a whimper and a whine. 

“Man, you okay?” 

Eddie’s impossibly close, his hand resting under Steve’s arm, helping to steady him. His eyes are wide and worried. 

“Fuck, you’ve got a fever,Steve.” 

“Are y-yours too? Burning up?” 

“What?” Eddie looks around. “Guys, I need some help! Somethings wrong!” 

10 pairs of eyes are on them, and Joyce and Nancy are both booking it over. 

“Y-Your bites…mine feel like they’re burning.” 

“You idiot-“ Eddie yanks Steve’s shirt up. The white bandage that’s obviously old is soaked with blood and plasma.

“I’ve got him,” Joyce cuts in. Steve leans closer to her, the mom he never had. 

They’re not close, but they’ve both helped save the world, he’s picked her kid up on numerous occasions, and they’ve made some small take. Right now, his brain is screaming ‘Mom! Mom! Mom!’, and the woman must be able to tell. He’s led to the small bathroom on the side, door closing behind them. 

“What happened honey?” 

“B-Bats, the ones that got Eddie too,” his voice trembles as she sits him down on the toilet lid. He’s so god damn tired. 

“I’m going to take this bandage off okay? Can you take your shirt off?” 

The noise he makes when the fabric scrapes across his back is almost inhuman. Blinking back tears, arms feeling like jello, he looks up at Joyce once he’s done. 

“Okay, it’s going to be okay,” she assures, her voice calm. If only his real mom was this kind. 

The petite brunette moves around and sucks in a breath as she looks at his back, making him shift slightly. It’s got to be bad. Rummaging around the cabinets, she finds what she’s looking for, a large box full of medical supplies.

“I put this in here last year, thank god it’s still here,” she says, talking just to talk. “I’m going to have to wipe everything down, and it’s going to hurt, I’m so sorry Steve.” 

“I-It’s okay,” he nods, fever burning his cheeks. 

By the time they finish, tear tracks are on his face, his nose is stuffy, and his eyes burn. Still nauseous, he ends up getting sick in the plastic trash can sat beside the sink, gagging loudly. Joyce runs a hand through his hair and then a cool, wet cloth is wiped over his face. 

“There’s a bedroom that used to be El’s here, let’s get you laying down. 

He doesn’t argue. Frankly, Steve wants to lay down, wants to sleep. As they walk out of the bathroom, his wounds newly bandaged and shirt still off, he tries to ignore everyone’s gazes and the words that start getting murmured. He hears Robin say something about rabies, and Dustin let out a string of cuss words. 

After being shoved and downing two Tylenol and a glass of water, he lays down. A dip in the bed makes the man open his eyes. He’s not sure who he’s expecting, maybe Robin or Nancy, but certainly not Eleven. 

“You are hurt, and sick.” 

“Yeah,” Steve gives her a half smile, wishing he could reassure her. 

“I can…make some of it go away, I think.” 

He can’t help making a frown. Eleven has super powers. She’s strong when she wants to be, can make things explode, move things with her mind. But healing? Is it new? Has she always had it? 

“You don’t have t-“ 

“It is okay, Steve. You do a lot for people, and now I want to do something for you.” 

Tears burn in his eyes and he nods wordlessly. 

She puts a hand on his shoulder, careful not to touch any bandages. 

“Your skin is hot.” 

“It’s called a fever. Happens when you’re sick.” 

Eleven closes her eyes and stays still. Silence fills the room. Moments later, the intense, jagged pain ebbs. It’s still awful, but it no longer feels as if knives are cutting him open. He cracks an eye, seeing Eleven’s face twisted in pain. 

“Woah! Woah, hey kid, don’t…don’t put pain on yourself. I’m okay, you’ve done enough,” Steve shifts backward.

“But I-“ 

“It’s okay. I already don’t feel as bad…thank you. I’ll get better. You should rest too. You need your strength.” 

Once she’s gone, another figure slips in. Robin. 

“If you have rabies, I get rights to hold it over your head for the rest of your life,” she mumbles grumpily, crawling onto the bed. Steve snorts, rubbing his face. 

“Don’t have rabies.” 

“Maybe you’ll turn into a vampire.” 

“Not funny.” 

“You could get supersonic hearing! You could fly!” 

“Robin…I love you but I’m going to fall asleep okay?” 

“Yeah okay…love you too dingus.”