#using the most disgusting scratchy stick pen

[p0s3idonn]

A short 20 min thing cos I had to check I still knew how to draw and pen always forces me to not think too hard so amen to that LOL saving me for real

[catsbrak]

ok this is a lot - what if richie has a little sister. and there is some situation where their parents leave town for a couple of days and richie is out for the night too like at a concert with bev or something. so they hire a babysitter (eddie) until richie comes home (richie doesn't meet him when he arrives bc he's already left) so when he gets back he's suppose to pay eddie and say thanks but when he sees him his like JAKAHDUAOAJEBYAPHF

im using georgie for this but this is.. a cute idea!!! i made it a mini fic instead of hcs im sorry

“I’ll m-meet you guys at the truck, he should be here any minute,” Bill let them know, and Richie let out an overly exaggerated sigh. It brought forth a laugh from Beverly and an eye roll from Stan.

“What kind of babysitter is this late, Billiam?? It could be an emergency. Hell, it IS an emergency, we’re gonna miss the opening band!” He complained, and Bill gave him a look. “Fine!” He exclaimed, “I’ll wait in the truck.”

When he arrived to where Mike and Ben sat, already in the truck, his only greeting to them was to flop himself into the backseat in true, dramatic, Tozier fashion. He didn’t see when the babysitter for Georgie actually did arrive, he only knew that eventually his friends piled back in and they were off.

The night was, in short, incredible. The music was great, every single one of his favourite songs had been in the set, and he and Bev had screamed along to the lyrics until their voices were nearly gone.

On the way back came the ‘who’s going to whose house’ discussion, and Bev and Richie both decided they’d stay with Bill, and they were the first to be dropped off.

Beverly was already pulling a box of cigarettes from her back pocket straight out of the truck, offering them to the boys. Bill looked tempted, but sighed.

“N-no thanks, Bev, I should go p-pay Eddie so he can g-get home.”

Richie, who was feeling more like a glass of water than a cigarette, quickly interjected as he put his hand up to decline Bev’s offer. “I’ll take care of it, Big Bill.” He suggested.

“You sure?” Bill checked, a bit surprised. When Richie insisted, he fished his wallet out, handing over the money. Richie, after looking over the cash and thinking maybe he should try babysitting, headed inside.

He made a beeline for the dining table, because there was a box of pizza on it, and he grabbed a slice.

“Georgie went to bed already,” a soft voice caused him to nearly jump out of his skin, and he followed it to the couch, where the most beautiful boy he’d ever seen in his life sat curled up with a book. The boy laughed. It brought a blush to Richie’s cheeks.

“Jesus, sorry.” The other commented, presumably about scaring him, “I really thought you were Bill.” Richie was frozen watching him for a moment, before he let out a half-hearted laugh, trying to smoothly brush his wild and sweat-soaked hair back with his free hand. No use. It was a mess.

“No… no, not Bill. You must be Eddie?” Richie tried to ignore the scratchy post-concert quality of his own voice.

“Yeah, that would be me,” he replied, “and you’re..?”

“The man of your dreams.” Richie answered without missing a beat, and Eddie raised his eyebrows, before glancing back down to his book with a quiet and unimpressed, 'wow’.

“Richie,” he quickly corrected himself with a more nervous chuckle, and Eddie peered back up at him curiously.

“Okay, Richie.” He flipped the page of his book, but his eyes remained on Richie. And Richie couldn’t help but feel a bit flushed at the way Eddie looked him over, then, as if he were sizing him up.

“Are you a friend of Bill’s?” Richie asked, and Eddie nodded. “But you didn’t come to the concert.”

“Not really my thing,” Eddie admitted, “it’s a little loud. I was much more happy to watch Georgie.” He explained further, closing his book once he’d saved his place.

“So you like kids, then?” Richie asked, a smirk making it’s way onto his face.

“I do, yeah,” Eddie told him, eying him cautiously.

“Wanna have mine?” He blurted. He couldn’t stop himself from making the joke, it was like word vomit, and the expression of confusion and slight disgust on Eddie’s face had him regretting it instantly.

But Eddie only faltered a moment before he cleared his throat, cheeks pink. He didn’t seem prepared to answer how many things were wrong with that question.

“I- I.. would rather stick to babysitting,” he said, confidence taking a moment to return to his tone. Richie felt like he needed the ability to turn invisible, really.

“I have money for you.” He said to change the subject, and hopefully end his humiliation, and Eddie looked a little baffled.

“I babysit for kids, Richie.”

“I- no, it’s- oh god, no- Bill gave me the money! It’s for Georgie.” His entire face flushed in embarrassment at the way Eddie was looking at him, heart now hammering in his chest. He handed over the money clumsily. Eddie’s confidence was back entirely now, after having seen Richie once again revert to nervous wreck.

“Thanks,” Eddie smirked, still eying him in amusement, before he stood from the couch to collect his things. Something about the way he was still grinning and teasing even after a fuck up like that had Richie really intrigued.

“I- um… listen, maybe.. maybe you’d be interested in babysitting my sister?” Richie asked, and Eddie glanced over at him in surprise.

“… I guess I could.” He replied after some silence. He was still looking at him strangely. “When?”

“… Friday?” Richie tried to keep his voice from shaking.

“Sure. Can you pick me up?” Eddie asked, and Richie assumed getting a ride was crucial to him considering he had been so late tonight. When he nodded, Eddie pulled a pen and pad of paper from the fanny pack around his waist. (Wait why did he have a fanny pack?)

When Richie received an address and phone number, a grin spread on his face.

“I like burger places,” Eddie suddenly said, and Richie looked a bit confused. However, he couldn’t get a word in when Eddie continued, “And anywhere that has milkshakes. The movies would be fine, too.”

“But I-”

“Richie Tozier, right?” He asked, and there was a pause. “You don’t have a sister.” Eddie finished easily. Richie instantly began to stutter over his words, like Big Bill, who he had assumed Eddie would have gotten that kind of information from.

Eddie pressed his fingers delicately over his lips to quiet him. Big brown eyes were trained on Richie’s, almost playful in the way they watched him. His words were more of an order than a question.

“Pick me up at seven.”

[mustdang-100]

Care-Taking

Reigen gets sick when his boyfriend's out of town. This is nothing but indulgent Dadgen & Teru sickfic fluff.

For @the-elf-draws​ inspired by their Mobtober #11.

Edit: Ah forgot to add, Teruki w/ hair ornaments is taken from @auro-cyanide‘s most excellent headcanon. 

Also on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12937155

Reigen’s head landed on his desk with a soft thud.

The contact reverberated through his skull, sending new throbs of pain to join the existing headache. Still, the press of the cool desk surface against his overheated forehead was worth it. He closed his eyes and released a deep sigh at the mild relief. The sound turned into a groan as it emerged, chafing his sore and scratchy throat.

Fine, he thought to the part of himself that had been softly chastising him all day. The part that spoke with a voice eerily reminiscent of Katsuya’s. Fine, you’re right.

I’m sick.

He was just lucky that his boyfriend was out of town this week, off visiting his mother. Reigen would never hear the end of Serizawa’s soft reproach if he knew Reigen had gone to work despite feeling off that morning. Reigen had waved off the tickle in his throat, telling himself it was just allergies. That conviction had faded through the day as his coughing fits grew more frequent. When he reached for a paper towel to wipe the beading sweat from his forehead and found the roll hard to grasp due to his wracking shivers, he began to think working that day was maybe not one of his brightest ideas.

He should go home. Yet the mere thought of the journey filled him with exhaustion; his apartment seemed so far when every movement he made sent nauseating aches shooting down his limbs. And he would be just as alone at home as he was here, anyways…

A surge of wistfulness washed through him for Katsuya’s warm, comforting presence; cuddling with him on the couch at his place, or working on his laptop, feet propped in Reigen’s lap while the TV blared with one of Reigen’s favorite movies. But Katsuya wouldn’t be back for another few days, and as much as Reigen missed him, he didn’t want to bother him and spoil his first trip to see his family in almost a year.

Reigen let out another dry cough, feeling very sorry for himself. He was sick though, and also alone, so he decided that was allowed.

Honestly, he could probably rest just as well here at the office as at home. He would flip the open sign to closed, then move over to the couch, and just lie there until he felt up to making the trip. He just had to get up from his chair. Any… any second now…

Reigen ponderously turned his head to the side so that one flushed cheek rested on the desk. Locks of his fringe flopped limply against his face, the hair stuck together with sweat into wet tendrils. It hung there, cold and clammy against his forehead.

It itched.

It poked him in the corner of one closed eye, which twitched erratically in reaction.  

And suddenly, the irritation of that was more than he could take. On top of the throbbing in his head with every heartbeat, and the abrasion of his throat with every breath, and the ache in his joints with every movement, that nuisance was just too much. And the hair was something he could control, right here and now.

The hair was the enemy.

The hair had to go.

Eyes still closed, Reigen flopped a hand into the desk drawer where he was pretty sure the scissors lived. His fingers scrabbled blindly through a jumbled snarl of office supplies: paper clips, a stapler, pens, pencils… huh?

He touched a small object that his fever-riddled brain could not identify. Reigen pulled the odd contraption up close to his face and blinked at it blearily.

It was hot pink in color, composed of two hard plastic spheres connected by pink elastic bands. Reigen stared at it in confusion for longer than he’d like to admit before he realized it was a child's hair band, left in the office months ago by a client’s young toddler and thrown haphazardly into a drawer in case the client returned for it.

Reigen considered the contraption for a moment.

A moment more.

Hmm… yeah. This could work.

Reigen sat up, momentarily energized by his own genius. Using a hair band to hold back his hair; clearly, innovations of this caliber could only be devised by the great Reigen Arataka, the 21 st Century’s Greatest Thinker.

He twisted his fringe up into a small tail that stuck straight up from his forehead, like a tiny spout. He wrapped the elastic band around it tightly and released it with a snap of satisfaction. Then he returned his head to the desk, now irritation-free.

He sighed in relief, feeling accomplished if a little addled, and nestled awkwardly into his office chair. He should really get up, go to the couch. But the desk surface was cool. Nice, and cool. So nice. Mmm.

He rolled his head over, exposing the other side of his face to the soothing surface.

And found one Hanazawa Teruki peering at him with bemused interest.

Reigen blinked at the vibrant apparition before him.

Teruki’s lips switched, as though fighting a smile. He’d clearly come straight from school; his bag was hoisted jauntily over one primly uniform-clad shoulder. In rebellious contrast to his outfit his hair sparkled with hair ornaments, adding a riot of bright color that clashed horribly with the yellow and navy high-school uniform.

Reigen blinked again, still confused.

“Whaaaaa- Teruki, how… I mean, hi, you’re doing here, what’re?”

Teruki’s face lost its humor, a flicker of worry appearing for the briefest instant before he steeled his expression into something more neutral.  

“Is it inconven… would you rather I not… I mean, I know I haven’t been by the office as often lately, but I thought… since Serizawa-san is out of town, and Kageyama-kun is busy with his athletic club, that you might need some extra help this week…”

Reigen stared at him, mind chugging slowly into gear as he realized his mistake – he really must be sick to be surprised to see Teruki here; the kid visited often enough. But in trying to backpedal, his usually agile tongue tripped and stumbled.

“No s’fine! Y’re welcome t’ be here! And ‘m fine, jus fine, but if y’ wanna help, thas fine, thas good, but ‘m fiiiiine.”

Teruki relaxed, raising a brow as he tossed his bag absently to the floor. He scrutinized Reigen, hands on hips.

“Reigen-san, as… admirable as I find your new hairstyle, judging by your rather less-than-eloquent speech, I believe the change may be an indication that you are not entirely fine.”

Reigen reached up to feel the fountain of hair spouting up from his forehead, which he’d already forgotten about.

“It wass’ot. Too sweaty. Needed it to go ‘way.”

Reigen could hear himself slurring, but Teruki seemed to get it anyway. He nodded understandingly, then calmly pressed the inside of his wrist to Reigen’s forehead. His lips pursed in disapproval.

“Yep. Reigen-san, you have a fever. You’re in no state to be here; you need to go home and rest-“

Teruki broke off with a start. Reigen looked up to see him staring at his hair – or more specifically, the hair band – with something like horror.

“Reigen-san, you can’t use that cheap thing! It’ll rip up your hair!”

Reigen had never heard him sound so dismayed – Teruki had tortured a man with far less consternation than he was showing now. Reigen thought about pointing this out, but decided perhaps now was not the time.

Teruki carefully unwound the elastic band from Reigen’s hair, tossing it into the trash with disgust. Reigen tried to protest, pawing weakly at his head, but Teruki slapped his hands away.

“Just hold on, I’ll fix you up.”

Teruki pulled two glittery barrettes from his own hair, one magenta, one lime-green. He gathered Reigen’s bangs and pulled them gently back, then carefully slid a barrette into place on either side of Reigen’s head. He stood back, tilting his head to the side as he studied his work, then nodded in satisfaction.

As soon as his head was released, Reigen let it slump back to the desk; he’d started to feel dizzy. Teruki patted his shoulder comfortingly.

“That’s right, you lay down. Give me just a moment.”

One hand still patting Reigen, he pulled a phone from his pocket with the other and hit a button for speed dial.  Reigen heard only bits of the following conversation, drifting in and out of something approaching sleep, until the deep voice on the other end suddenly boomed loud enough for him to hear.

“What do you mean he looks great, you just said he can barely sit up!?”

“I said his hair looks great. The rest of him looks awful.”

“What!?” Almost a screech. Reigen gave a goofy grin; he’d never heard Katsuya’s voice reach quite that frequency before. He could practically see him clutching at his thick curly hair in agitation. Aww.

“Tell ‘im I’m fine, ” Reigen slurred in Teruki’s direction. “And to leave ‘is hair alone, I like it. Iss cute.”

Teruki ignored him.

“Don’t worry Serizawa-san,” he said, his placating voice thrumming with confidence. “I’ll get him home. I can stay with him until you get back, make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid and his fever doesn’t get any worse. I’ll crash on the couch or something; you enjoy the rest of your holiday.”

“No, no…” the voice on the other end of the phone said, still sounding harried. “I’m coming back tonight. But, but thanks, I’d appreciate you sticking close. He’s not very good at taking care of himself…”

Reigen wanted to protest this, but found he really didn’t quite have the energy.

Reigen missed the end of their conversation, too focused on trying to determine whether he was drooling on his desk. But he knew it must have ended when he felt Teruki worm his way under one arm, pulling him up with a small grunt of exertion.

“Not very good at taking care of yourself, huh. That’s ok Reigen-san,”

A soft hum surrounded Reigen; he recognized the familiar lightness of psychic power supporting his weight. Yet Teruki didn’t move from under his arm, remaining a small warm presence that spoke of caring, and of support, and of something like family.

“-we’ll just have to take care of you for you.”