Work Text:
The Deadlights.
DON'T LOOK -
Dead. Lights.
DON'T LOOK INTO -
The Deadlights.
DON'T LOOK
The nightmare always ended the same. The warning echoing inside of his head and the pull - invisible but gravitational. And as he turned to face it, that blinding, burning light - he always woke up. He never saw what was in them. And he wondered if that was his mind's way of keeping his sanity intact. Keeping him from reliving whatever awful things he'd seen that night.
And he always woke up the same. Bathed in cold sweat, gasping for air, trembling and sick to his stomach.
It was such a common occurrence that he failed to realize that the sick feeling didn't dissolve the same time that the nightmare began to fade.
He was in Bill's living room after a Friday Night sleepover. The others were asleep in shadowy sleeping bag bundles all around him.
A wave of nausea crashed over him as he decided to sit up. The darkness didn't help the faint dizziness, as if the room was spinning. He took a shaky breath, trying to quell the sick feeling as best he could.
He was just trying to decide if he should wake Bill when another spike of nausea hit. His mouth was watering in that awful way and he just knew he was going to throw up.
It was then that he snapped out of it and stood up and walked as quickly as he could to the bathroom down the hall, one hand held firmly over his mouth.
He hardly had time to even kneel on the fluffy pink rug on the tiled floor and then his stomach wrenched, forcing out a gag. With his heart thudding loudly in his ears and his hands gripping the rim of the toilet hard enough to turn his knuckles white, he gagged again, bringing up a wash of bitter liquid.
After that, everything became a blur of noise. His stomach heaved a second time. Then a third, squeezing up wave after wave. He could only cough on a choked breath between bouts.
Sometime in that time frame, he heard Bill's voice from behind him.
"S-Stan?" What are y-you - Oh!" In a moment, Bill was crouching down next to him, pushing the curls away from his eyes and rubbing circles on his back.
Generally speaking, he liked to be alone when he was sick. He'd take his own temperature. Administer his own fluids. But a lot had changed since that awful summer and he was extremely grateful for the other boy's presence.
By the time he was able to breathe again, the others had started to wake.
"Stan?" That was Beverly, for sure. "What's going on?"
"Stan's r-really sick, you g-guys." Bill told them. Bill moved and before he could even mourn the loss of touch, he was back and holding something cold against his hot face.
"I th-think he's got a f-fever."
"Stan?" Beverly was crouching down now too in her night gown. "When did this start?"
Stan swallowed bitterness and glanced over. But everything was so bright he had to squeeze his eyes shut again.
"Ughh" Stan groaned. "I don't...know…"
"Somebody get a thermometer." Eddie said firmly. He was still lingering by the door, unwilling to get any closer.
"C-C'mere." Bill pushed himself back against the bathtub and gently pulled the other boy up against his shoulder.
It was then that Richie stumbled into the too bright bathroom, glasses askew and hair spiking up strangely.
"Th' fuck izzit?" He mumbled.
"Shut up, Richie. Go back to bed." Eddie said as he bodily turned the taller boy back to the hallway.
"Mmkay." Richie mumbled and zombie walked in that direction.
Ben and Beverly returned, thermometer in hand.
"Okay, Stan. We're going to take your temperature now." She said in a soothing way.
Stan had been wrapped up in Bill's arms, and as Bill pulled away, he rubbed his back again
"It-its okay. Open y-your mouth." He said. Stan had just enough sense to be cooperative and open his mouth slightly, letting Ben place it under his tongue.
In his feverish haze, he caught snippets of conversation here and there.
Wonder how long he's been like this -
Don't know….woke up and he was just gone -
Then there was a loud beeping that made his head throb. They pulled the thing from his mouth just in time. A moment later, he was choking and retching again. Hard enough to bring tears.
"One-oh-one-point-three." Ben read aloud.
"God, no wonder he's feeling bad!" Bev exclaimed.
Bill held the washcloth he'd been using to sponge off Stan's face to Ben, who re-wet it for him.
The shock of cold made his body shudder in response.
"I'd say to give him some Tylenol, but I'm afraid he'll just throw it back up." Eddie was still standing in the doorway with Mike, his nose scrunched up with worry and most likely, disgust. "Hang on."
He disappeared for what seemed like forever to Bill, but finally returned, holding up bags of frozen peas and carrots.
"Here. Put it under his arms." He said.
"It should bring his fever down." Mike agreed.
"Dr. Kaspbrak. To the rescue." Bev said, giving him a sweet smile as Ben and Bill arranged Stan just so.
He didn't like it. He went from shivering slightly to violent shaking. But he didn't fight them either, when Bill held him close.
"S-s'cold." He managed to get out through chattering teeth.
"I k-know." Bill kept his grip around him firm as Eddie set his stopwatch for six minutes.
When it had gone off, Ben reset the thermometer.
"One-hundred-point-eight." Ben read with a sigh of relief.
"He needs to lay down." Mike stated. "Why don't you two go up into your room, Bill. That way you can keep an eye on him."
"Does that sound alright, Stan? You can lay down with Bill upstairs?" Bev said in that soothing tone.
Stan nodded almost imperceptibly, his over warm face still pressing lightly against Bill's neck.
With assistance, Bill was able to help Stan stand up and walk him up the stairs.
In a great leap in forethought, Ben ran downstairs to get another t-shirt from Stan's overnight bag.
"Here, you're probably going to want to get him into dry clothes." He said.
"Thanks." Bill said. Without further discussion, the others quietly filed out.
Even through his misery, Stan obediently let Bill change his shirt and was grateful when he was able to crawl underneath the comforter with Bill snuggling up next to him.
"F-feeling a l-little better?" Bill asked and his voice was so soft and after all the chaos of the last couple of hours, Stan could finally close his eyes.
"Mhm." He murmured back. He felt, rather than saw, the light kiss on the tip of his nose.
"Go t-to sleep. I'll b-be r-right here."
When he woke again, the bedroom was a dim blue with dawn streaking the sky outside.
Bill had one arm loosely draped over him. He turned in Bill's arms.
Reading his thoughts, Bill pulled him closer.
"S'okay. I'm still here." He whispered, without a stammer. Probably because he wasn't fully awake.
For once, Stan let himself drift back to sleep with no fear.