a/n: I realized the lack of stan x reader fics I’ve written and I needed to fix that pronto.
Stan Pines x Reader: Sickness
“You gave me quite th’ scare there, kid,” Stan huffed out before running a hand through your hair.
You let out a weary sigh, and closed your eyes. You proceeded to lean up against his side on his bed, enjoying his comforting touches. You wish the two of you could just stay here forever.
“Why didn’t ya tell me you weren’t feelin’ well?” Stan scolded you softly, his hand now caressing your face. “Y’ could’ve just called in to tell me you were feelin’ under the weather. I would’ve understood,” he finished with a worried sigh, using his other hand to run across his worn face.
You scrunched up and tried to bury yourself under the covers, now feeling guilty of your decision to come into work, despite knowing you had a fever. You told yourself I’d be okay, and you could get through the day as you popped a couple pills to help temporarily lower your temperature. Which turned out to be successful for the first few hours of work, but didn’t take long before the pills slowly wore off, resulting in you feeling extremely weak, warm, and woozy.
And before you knew it you had fallen to the ground, and blacked out from exhaustion.
If only you knew how frantic and worried Stan was after finding your body upon the gift-shop floor minutes later, after hearing a sudden thud from across the hall.
Though you didn’t find your plans to be a complete failure, as you got to hang out with Stan in the end.
“I guess I’ve grown to really like working at the shack,” you eventually respond, and you jump at Stan’s brief sarcastic chuckle.
“Really now? It’s rare that people tend t’ actually like workin’ here. Besides Soos. But that’s beside th’ point. He doesn’t count,” he laughed out, amused. Stan glanced at you, grinning widely. “What’s th’ real reason, toots?”
You became silent, leaving the conman to gaze upon your weary face with curiosity and a smirk.
“You,” you mumbled out softly as you begin to drift off to sleep.
Stan was left speechless, his face all red and flushed like a tomato. He awkwardly cleared his throat, trying to avoid seeing your soft, slumbering face, as it would only result in him turning even more red (if that were even possible). He wondered if you were serious, or if you were just blabbering things due to your sickly state.
You weren’t completely aware of what was happening anymore, and you for sure weren’t going to recall this conversation. At least the end of it. But you didn’t tell any lies over wanting to be near him.
After a while Stan arm around you tightly as you delved into deep slumber, and wished for a quick recovery from your temporary illness.
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