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Would you be at all interested in writing like Chrissy takes care of a sick Eddie?

Yes! So....I originally was going to make this into some...snz content, but then it took me 2.4K just to get into the actual prompt, so I ended up just going with Eddie being sick. Send me another prompt if you'd like some snz content too lol, I just got WAY carried away with this one. So, have some 4.5k soft Eddie/Chrissy fic. Warning- there is one paragraph where Eddie is dreaming, it contains implied underage drug use and child abuse.

+ + +

Eddie walks through the hallway of Hawkins High, feeling hazy and tired in a way that has nothing to do with his pill popping and weed smoking tendencies. In fact, the long haired man hasn’t touched anything of that nature today, much to his chagrin. He’d woken up later than usual and scrambled to pull on clothing, grab his bag and race out the door. This is his year, he’s going to graduate. And that means (for the most part) being on time.

Ambling down the hallway, allowing cheerleaders to pass before continuing, Eddie rubs his face and wonders if the weed he’s been smoking the past few nights is to blame for the brain fog and sluggishness clinging to him today. A flash of a hat catches his eye and the guitarist readies himself for Henderson’s energy to come at him full force. The kid appears in front of him, and he’s surprised when he doesn’t spy Wheeler anywhere.

“Eddie! I got us new dice!” The curly haired boy looks at him, grinning his excited, brace-faced smile, which makes him return it, even if it’s more subdued.

“Wonderful, the next campaign will be a momentous occasion then.” He tries to give his usual theatrical flare, hoping it satisfies the kid.

Henderson nods, but before he can speak another word, the warning bell rings, signaling third period’s about to start. Both walk in opposite directions. As Eddie approaches his science class, his head gives a sudden, aching throb that makes him pause and blink hard, letting out a sigh. Sitting in his usual seat; back left corner for the past six years, the man shivers, frowning up at the vent above him. Yeah it’s Spring now, but he doesn’t need to be frozen out.

The end of the day can’t come soon enough. He skips lunch, instead spending his time outside smoking and avoiding the whole, entire Hawkins High population. His throat’s starting to get sore, and his head hasn’t stopped aching. He’s still cold even under his leather jacket and denim vest. All he can think about is getting back to the trailer and laying down, and when drugs don’t even cross his mind, it should be a red flag.

Eddie realizes it’s a ‘Woods Day’, as he calls it in his mind, right when he reaches for the handle of his van two hours later. He and Chrissy meet up deep in the woods behind school, where his usual drug deals go down. He knows the spot isn’t used unless he tells someone to meet him there, so it’s a sure thing he’ll never get caught with Chrissy Cunningham and ruin her popular, perfect-girl reputation. Rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, he drops his hand and starts trudging off to the woods, body starting to feel a little bit like the cups of jello they sell in the cafeteria.

A tickle in his throat makes him cough into the crook of his arm a few times, clearing his throat after. Eddie winces at the pain it brings, his throat feels like a victim of Jason from Friday the 13th. Seeing Chrissy isn’t there yet, the nineteen year old sits down at the picnic table and props his arms up, letting the tips of his fingers press against his now closed eyes, waiting.

Either seconds or minutes later- Eddie’s not sure which, he hears the sound of crunching forest debris and looks up, seeing Chrissy in her usual cheerleading uniform. She’s glancing backwards every few seconds, as if she’s paranoid someone might see her. The guitarist suspects she probably is. Chrissy Cunningham meeting with Eddie the freak Munson is something that just wouldn’t happen….and yet. He rubs his eyes and tries his hardest to perk up, to seem like everything is fine.

“Hey, thought you got lost,” he jokes at the girl, giving her a grin. She returns it, which makes warmth bloom in his currently cold body. They’ve started talking more during these rendezvous, getting to know each other and actually become something akin to at least semi-friends. Eddie’s sure that if he asked her how she felt about him, she’d laugh in his face and tell him this is just a drug deal, and she’s trying to be polite when they talk.

“Nope, I was just having to deal with Jason,” she shakes her head, eyes rolling as Eddie pulls out the small black box containing the drugs he’s giving her.

“Oh?” He tries to sound casual, her relationship is none of his business. But the idea she’s had to deal with Jason…he swears on his mothers grave if that jock asshole has touched her or hurt her, he’s going to go beat the shit out of him. Chrissy deserves the world.

“We…I broke up with him, and he’s trying to spread lies,” she shrugs, sitting down opposite him.

“Oh.”

A feeling of something blossoms in his chest, hope, maybe. It turns out to just be a cough, and he turns away from the strawberry blonde, keeping his arm snug against his mouth as he does. Growing up, his mother had been big on manners, and he tries his hardest to uphold her rules- covering his mouth, saying please and thank you, being courteous to women. He turns back around.

“I’m sorry he’s being an ass about it.” The urge to ask about the breakup is strong but he stops himself, knowing it would just lead to an awkward shut down.

“It’s whatever. Does it suck, yeah, but I couldn’t deal with being around him another day. He’s too selfish and suffocating and…I’m sorry,” she cuts herself off, blushing. “You don’t want to hear about this.”

“I…I don’t mind, really. I’ve been told I’m a good listener. I can always key his car if you want,” he shoots her a boyish grin, lips quirked in a way that makes him look younger.

She laughs, and it’s gorgeous.

Eddie finally opens the box, pulling out the tiny baggie. He’s handing it to her when another cough bubbles up. He barely has time to turn away, coughing into the air this time. It scrapes at his already sore throat and makes his head throb more. When he turns back, wiping his face, Chrissy’s looking at him with her brow furrowed.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Just..swallowed wrong I guess.” Eddie Munson isn’t weak, isn’t vulnerable, and most of all, he has a persona to keep up with. He may not actually be an asshole like half the school says, but who’s he to stop them from believing it. It just helps keep most of them away.

“Are you sure? You look kind of..” she thinks for the right word. “Kind of pale, and flushed. Sick.”

Her face hasn’t moved from the almost worried gaze she’s been holding, and it makes Eddie nervous. He licks his lips, fiddles with a ring on his left hand. The idea of being sick hasn’t even crossed his mind, he hasn’t been sick in years. Chrissy leans across the table, suddenly in his space and the curly haired man freezes like a wild animal. A delicate hand is suddenly brushing back his curly bangs and laying across his forehead.

Eddie’s not sure if it’s just the physical contact or the coolness of her fingers that feels so good, but his eyes flutter shut, his long eyelashes on display against pale skin. At the sudden loss of contact, he opens his brown eyes again, feeling embarrassed at how much he hopes it’ll happen again.

“You’re burning up,” Chrissy’s frown has deepened, almost like she’s worried.

“Uhh…okay.” He’s not sure what else to say, he’s never had someone just feel his forehead like that before, not even his parents or uncle. It’s so strangely intimate, and Eddie isn’t sure if he should even ask for money, unsure of how to proceed except to leave.

“You should go home and rest, take some medicine,” the cheerleader suggests.

It makes Eddie snort, which then makes him wince, his throat sending a jabbing pain towards his tonsils.

“What?”

Brown eyes meet blue-green.

“I don’t have medicine, unless you count drugs. I’ll just knock myself out with some weed and that should do the trick. That’s the best thing when you’re sick anyway, right? Sleeping?”

He hopes his last sentence doesn’t sound as pathetic as it feels. Eddie’s only been sick once since living with his uncle, and it was a barely twelve hour stomach bug that his uncle hadn’t even been around for. His parents didn’t do much in the way of him being ill, and the only thing he remembers from that was being told to drink water.

“Yeah, sleep is good….” She looks at him, obviously thinking about something. Chrissy bites her lip and hands him back the tiny baggie.

“I don’t need it yet. Why don’t you…why don’t you come back to my place for a little bit. My parents both work night shifts at the hospital. I have medicine and food.”

Eddie stares at her, trying to decide if she’s pulling a prank. He thinks she’s being genuine, she’s never been rude to him, and they’ve talked enough he thinks he has her figured out at least a little. Going over to her house, having her take care of him though, that seems like a completely different ball game. He’s going from her drug dealer to..what, a pity case? Or a rebound? He definitely doesn’t have the energy to do anything remotely sexual today. Plus what if Jason shows up?

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” he turns away to cough again.

It must shake something loose, because congestion suddenly floods his head, stuffing his nose up and making his head feel heavy. Fuck. Eddie wants to tell her that he’d have enough money to get cough medicine and Tylenol if she would just buy the drugs, but he knows he’ll sound like a complete douche if he does. Plus the idea of going into a store sounds terrible. Chrissy shakes her head, biting at her nail.

“No one’s going to know, if that’s what you’re worried about. You need some medicine and food.”

“Why do you care?” The second he asks, he sees hurt in her eyes and he clears his throat, ignoring the stinging pain. “I-I just meant…you have better things to do than make food for me.”

“I don’t want to just leave you alone while you’re this sick. You’re really hot.” Chrissy blushes when she realizes she’s just implied. “Your forehead. You..you feel like you have a high fever.”

If he’s honest, he does feel kind of terrible, and the chills that are crawling down his spine are a pretty good indicator of his fever. Not wanting to spend more time in the woods, Eddie relents. With a nod, he watches Chrissy smile and pick her bag up as he stuffs his black box into his own. Even that takes more effort than he’d like.

She gives him her address and how to get there, then heads back to her car. Eddie waits, not daring to let anyone see them leaving the woods together, rumors would fly and he’s not sure how he’d handle Jason thinking they were having sex or that they were even talking. His head throbs again and the guitarist finally walks back to the high school, fighting exhaustion the whole way. He’s really going to Chrissy Cunningham’s house, what could possibly go wrong?

+ + +

As he knocks on the door, Eddie fights back a yawn, rubbing at his eyes that feel tired and strained. He’d had to yank his bandana out of his pocket on the way over to catch a few sneezes, no less congested even after blowing his nose at a red light. He can feel his skin crawl at how gross he must be, and suddenly wishes he could back out. He’s going to get Chrissy sick, and though he’s not even been sick for 12 hours, the guitarist can tell this is going to be a miserable next few days.

The door opens and Chrissy’s no longer in her cheer outfit, instead she’s in cloth shorts and a blue shirt, barefoot and looking much more at ease than she does at school. Eddie feels his heart beat a little faster, but the woozy feeling he’s been fighting off all day finally hits and he has to pull himself out of his stupor.

“Hey come on in,” she closes the door behind him and he feels out of place in the nice house. He takes his boots off, knowing it’s the polite thing to do so he doesn’t track crap everywhere, then sniffles and follows her further inside. The house is big, bigger than anything he’s ever lived in, let alone been in. Eddie thinks maybe the Wheeler's house is the next nicest, but Chrissy’s definitely takes the cake.

As he follows her into the living room, the nineteen year old grabs his bandana again, pressing it tight against his face as he freezes halfway into the room, eyes shutting. He sneezes three times (like always), wipes at his nose and then puts the cloth back in his pocket.

“Bless you.”

“Thanks….uh, do you have a sink I can use?” He wants to wash his hands before touching things.

Chrissy leads him back from where they came, opening up a closet near the stairs. He gives her a smile and shuts the door. As Eddie washes his hands, he glances into the mirror, frowning. He definitely looks sick, his face is pale, he’s got dark circles under his eyes. There’s a deep pink hue to his cheeks that doesn’t bode well, and the underside of his nose is working its way to the same color. Pushing his hair out of his face once he’s dried his hands, he becomes aware of just how cold he is, and how uncomfortably warm his face feels.

Coughing into his arm, Eddie finally re-emerges and walks back into the living room, where Chrissy is fussing over a few blankets and a pillow. He watches her, feeling a little overwhelmed by her kindness. He’s pretty sure his fever is making him over emotional, at least, that’s what he’s going to tell himself. The cheerleader turns and gives a shy smile.

“I hope there's enough blankets. If not, I can get more.” She looks genuinely worried, so Eddie decides to help ease the crease between her brows.

“I only have one blanket, and it’s pretty thin. This is like a palace compared to what I’m used to. Seriously Chrissy…it’ll be fine.” He takes his vest and leather jacket off, goosebumps spreading on his skin at the loss of warmth. Setting them aside carefully, Eddie takes the cigarettes and lighter out of his pants pocket, setting them on top of his things, along with his keys, then after a moment's thought, puts his rings in his jacket pocket.

Chrissy giggles quietly and he turns to her, raising an eyebrow tiredly.

“Sorry, just, it’s not every day Eddie Munson is seen without his rings and jacket. It’s different, that's all.”

She’s right, it’s rare people see him so…underdressed. He likes to keep up his appearance, likes his flashy rings and cool leather jacket. Having them stripped away, leaving him in only jeans and a white t-shirt is a rarity, and it makes him get under the blankets quickly, pulling them close. He shuts his eyes almost involuntarily, the feeling of being horizontal and warm making him sleepier than before. A moment later, he feels Chrissy sit across from him on the coffee table.

“Alright, temperature check time.” Her voice is gentle and it makes him want to never leave. Forcing his eyes open, he can’t help but smile a little, seeing the cheerleader look so determined. She’s got the glass thermometer in her hands, shaking it and making sure it’s low enough, before she holds it out. Eddie takes it and looks at her, feeling himself grow embarrassed.

“I’ve never..uhm,” he swallows. “I don’t know where..”

For her part, Chrissy doesn’t make fun of him, just nods. “Open your mouth, and lift your tongue up. It goes underneath for four minutes.”

Doing as instructed, Eddie slips it under his tongue, then holds it. After two minutes of silence, he crosses his eyes like a child might, attempting to read where the red liquid is. Instead, it just makes his head throb, so he shuts his eyes again and waits until Chrissy says he can take it out.

“Okay, let me see,” she takes it when he slides it out, carefully holding it horizontally making sure not to shake it.

“Jesus Eddie, 101.5 (38.61 C) You must feel awful,” she pushes his bangs back like she had earlier, and the man lets out a noise that’s something between a whine and a moan.

With his eyes shut, he can sense Chrissy leaving, then coming back after hearing the tap run. She’s got a glass of water and two Tylenol in her hand. He takes both, the arm that’s holding the water feels shaky, like he could drop it any minute. The strawberry blonde must be able to tell, because right after he’s swallowed the pills she takes the glass back, setting it on the coffee table for him. Before he can do much else, Eddie curls into himself, arm over his mouth as he coughs, though this time it seems to take longer for him to stop. The coughing makes his nose run, and he searches for his bandana with his free hand, pulling it out and finally wiping his nose when he finishes coughing.

It’s as if he’s a walking plague. The swipe at his nose causes an itch to unfurl in his head, causing him to sneeze into the bandana. The congestion in his head seems to want to stay, and by the time he’s finished with blowing his nose (which is a waste of time), he realizes Chrissy is still there, watching him while he’s a mess. His cheeks burn a deeper red from embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, keeping the bandana in his hand this time.

“It’s okay, you’re sick Eddie, really sick.” She runs a hand through his curls, and the man leans into the touch, not even realizing he’s doing it. His eyes are shut again and she continues to sit there, only moving to change to the floor so she can be closer, easier to reach him.

“Sleep well Eddie, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Eddie’s already dreaming about an Angel with strawberry blonde hair and blue green eyes, body delicate but so beautiful. Maybe one day he and the Angel will have a happy ending together.

+ + +

He half wakes up screaming, body uncomfortably hot, thrashing under blankets that feel constricting. Not having much room to actually move on the sofa, Eddie ends up half off, feet on the floor as his limbs bend unnaturally. Dimly, he’s aware that there’s someone wiping his face with a washcloth. It’s cool on his face and he wants nothing more than to have it left there, but it keeps swiping over his cheeks, then his forehead.

Memories plague his mind, as if a movie is showing all of the ‘highlights’ of his childhood. Brief moments of screaming and breaking glass, drug deals going down in the same room he’s coloring in, lines of coke being snorted from the man next to him. Learning how to hotwire a car in middle school, being choked and pinned down, yelling for help while the man threw him on the bed and-

Eddie gasps and shoots up, knocking the hand out of the way. His hair is everywhere and it’s making him feel claustrophobic. Expertly, having done it countless times before, the DND player takes a hair tie from his wrist and pulls his hair up in one swift motion, wrapping the band around his curls to make a ponytail. His bangs still hang heavy on his forehead, but he feels a little less like he’s going to suffocate now.

Nose still stuffy, throat still sore, body aching, he lays back down before realizing he’s still in Chrissy’s house. Turning his head to his left, Chrissy is sitting there, eyes wide. She has a damp washcloth in her hands that are now trembling from the dramatics of him waking up. He takes a shaky breath, turning weakly to cough, this time though, Eddie merely pulls the neck hem of his shirt up barely over his mouth, aiming coughs down against his chest. They’re exhausting and tear at his throat that feels swollen. Nausea claws at his stomach but he forces the feeling down- he refuses to puke in Chrissy’s house.

“Are you okay?”

It’s four minutes of silence; aside from Eddie’s shaky, hard breaths, before Chrissy speaks. He looks at her again, noting the trembling has stopped. She’s worrying at her lip, eyes still wide, though, and the man nods, even if they both know it’s a lie.

“S-Sorry, I..I didn’t…”

“It’s fine, Eddie. I don’t think you meant to have a nightmare.”

For a split moment, the guitarist thinks he could tell her it wasn’t a nightmare, that it was a rush of memories that are anything but fond. Maybe she already knows. Instead, he looks at Chrissy and blinks owlishly. He can already feel sleep tugging at him again, but he fights it.

“Thank you…for taking care of me.”

They both wince at his voice, congested and raspy. The cheerleader shakes her head and smiles again. He feels warm and fuzzy, or maybe it’s just the fever talking.

“Everyone deserves to be taken care of. Even you, Eddie, whether you think so or not.”

At that, he gives a tired smile and his hand finds hers. He’s so sure what exactly is happening between them, but he figures it can wait until he’s fully well and coherent again. He just hopes her feelings don’t change. Eddie wants her to feel the way she makes him feel, and he hopes he’ll be the one to be able to do it.

The moment is broken when he feels how full his bladder is. Grimacing, he sits back up and swings his legs over the side of the sofa. At the look Chrissy gives him, he shoots her an apologetic one back.

“Gotta take a leak….shit, sorry that was…” he trails off, rubbing his face. “I need to use the restroom,” he attempts something far less crass. She giggles, but it drops the same time he does. The second he stands, Eddie feels his legs buckle, and then he’s staggering. Chrissy is right there though, holding him up in a way he’s honestly surprised she can do. He knows he’s not a big guy, and that cheerleaders are strong, but damn. Kind of a turn on. Feeling like Bambi as she helps, Eddie’s hands shake as he opens the bathroom door.

“Keep it unlocked, I don’t want to have to break the door down if you pass out.”

“M’not gonna pass out.” It would be more convincing if he wasn’t only 70 percent sure of the statement.

By the time he’s back on the couch, the eccentric man feels like his soul has been sucked out by a Barghest, leaving him to rot away while others in a campaign attempt to fix whatever damage he’s caused. Jesus, he's not felt this sick since he was a kid.

“Just sleep okay? I’m going to work on some vegetable soup, if that sounds good.”

“…I don’t think anyone’s ever made me soup before.“

Damn, again with the pity party. God, Munson. Get it together.

“Surely your parents must ha-“ Chrissy freezes, and Eddie knows why.

There are rumors that circulate every year like clockwork, about why he lives with his Uncle, why he’s been held back so much, why he sells drugs. No one knows the truth.

“No, they were usually busy,” he tries to give Chrissy an out. She thankfully takes it, and he wonders if she does it because he’s so sick, or if she simply believes the rumors. Too tired to think properly, Eddie’s eyes close and he finds and squeezes Chrissy’s hand. She squeezes back before heading to work on the soup.

Sleep doesn’t come. Eddie’s too tired, and the fact he can’t breathe through his nose makes him annoyed. His fever’s got him feeling uncomfortable and his head hurts too much to think about anything. Shifting restlessly, the guitarist sniffles, nose scrunching up at how gross he sounds. He glances at the clock on the wall, frowning when it’s nearing 7 o’clock already. Sniffling again, Eddie snaps his face into his bandana, sneezing not his usual triple, but twice as many, the demon cold from hell he’s suffering from obviously wanting to make him miserable.

Chrissy is suddenly there when he raises his head, a box of tissues in her hand.

“Sounded like you need these.”

“Tha’gks,” his voice is thick with congestion, and shyly, feeling embarrassed, Eddie takes a few and turns away, blowing his nose. It’s disgusting sounding, and he feels bad that Chrissy is witnessing all of it. He wants to apologize, but his nose that’s always been extra sensitive has other ideas. As he sneezes again, he feels that same delicate hand he’d been holding an hour prior rub at his back. He looks up after, still pressing his bandana to his face, and can’t help but give a weak laugh.

“I bet you didn’t know you’d get to witness just how gross Eddie the freak Munson is,” he wipes his nose carefully, then sighs and lays it next to him. Chrissy gives him a genuine smile.

“You’re sick. You’re maybe a little gross,” -the words are teasing- “but I would be too if I was sick. I’m just glad I’m able to maybe help you feel a little less terrible.”

She takes his hand, the one that hasn’t been holding the bandana, and squeezes it. For the second time in as many hours, Eddie wonders if maybe they’d be good together. Then he remembers she’s a cheerleader and he’s the black sheep of the school. He squeezes back and then smiles, eyes still fever bright.

“Mm, if you get sick…I can come take care of you. Least I can do for making you witness snot central,” he says, eyes shutting again. He doesn’t see Chrissy smile again, or look at him with her big eyes. Instead he feels a hand through his bangs, hears her giggle a little and then a soft ‘alright, I think that’s fair’, before he finally succumbs to sleep again.

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