Work Text:
Technoblade has stolen Skeppy’s phone.
He knows this because the last message he has received has been, and he quotes, “Skeppy is a Nerd with a capital N for nerdiest nerd.”
With a period and everything. Skeppy does not use punctuation but Technoblade does. Badboyhalo grins as he replies, “SKEPPY!!!! :O DON’T SAY THOSE THINGS ABOUT YOURSELF >:((“
He can imagine Skeppy and Technoblade scrabbling over each other on their worn couch. Techno pushing a pillow into the other’s bellowing mouth to muffle his struggle while he types with one hand, hair coming out of his bun and spilling awkwardly over his eyes making it hard to type.
Bad puts his phone into his hoodie pocket and feels the vibrations against his stomach as more texts come in. He doesn’t even have to check it again to know that it’s just a bunch of letters, unfinished messages sent way too early, gibberish that comes from smacking the phone’s fragile keyboard against a forehead.
While Skeppy tries to regain his pride Bad has his fun browsing the aisles for cough drops, which are conveniently the hardest item to find- not near the medicine, not in the candy aisle or baby aisle. This is horribly designed, who runs this dollar store? He would do a much better job if he had his own dollar store.
He should buy a place and make it into a proper run dollar store just to spite this one.
No he will not ask an employee. It is 11:49pm on a Friday night and they close at 12. The teenager at the register visibly sagged when he walked in, he couldn't bear to make them move from their hunched over position at the till.
Bad doesn’t usually shop this late, only on special occasions, and this is considered an extremely special case.
Skeppy got himself sick. It was fine two days ago when his throat was sore, easily soothed by some tea and orange juice, maybe a spare nap but then the next day his voice was almost completely gone.
Then, the third day, the day of reckoning. Skype had woken up early- way too early, with a sore throat, a coughing fit that shook the house and woke everyone up, alongside a classic runny nose.
It was just their luck that they had run out of tissues, that Techno was up late the night before, and many other small problems that came tumbling down their way.
It was chaos for the first hour. Skeppy, Bad, and Techno usually run a tight system in their apartment. They are all a certain type of people, at best they fit together like perfectly shaped puzzle pieces, wandering around each other's sprawled feet without complaint, turning off running taps, and turning down the volume at the right hour without mentioning it. The other times they are a hurricane.
When Skeppy woke everyone up, they were all off put, their cycle was destroyed. Morning completely destroyed, no way their laundry was to be done.
They had gone to get the cold syrup but had found that the bottle was nearly empty, only holding enough for a 10 year old child.
Upon learning this Bad had panicked, running around the house and tearing apart their neat cupboards and drawers looking for their stashes of bandages and medicine.
Skeppy had sat on the couch watching while Techno made them both cups of tea, content to let Bad run himself around over nothing, completely destroying their bathroom cabinets in the process.
No way they were going to be able to find the glass cleaner again.
The medicine had been exactly where it was always. A bottle that expired in a week but a full bottle nonetheless. Tucked right behind their Avengers themed band aids, 60 dollar itchy cream, and multiple refills of their one type of hand soap that everyone had agreed smelled good and didn’t irritate anyone’s hands.
Skeppy had taken a couple swigs straight from the bottle and conked out on the couch pretty much instantly and to be fair it wasn’t unexpected. Skeppy wakes up the latest out of everyone, even Technoblade, whose sleep schedule is barely even considered a schedule, more like a fire danger scale at a campsite.
Skeppy had slept soundly while Bad and Techno repaired the house, conveniently unable to get back to bed after the sun had already settled on the tops of nearby buildings and trees.
When Skeppy had woken up again, no better than before, he had whined and grumbled his way into permanently setting up in their living room, taking up all their sitting space with their one green couch and accompanying coffee table that they had found on the side of the road when all the college kids had moved out of their rented houses and left their unwanted furniture for lucky broke people like them to pick it up. The cushions, after a few washes, had replaced their popcorn smell for one that was more familiar.
Bad gave Skeppy more medicine, this time not letting him drink straight from the bottle, had given him an ice pack for his head, and a few blankets to pile on top. The three settled in for a lazy day.
Until they were interrupted by Skeppy throwing up into their toilet.
Not the best day for that, especially since they always have pizza on Friday nights, homemade too- they have gotten really good at tossing the dough their multiple Fridays of failed attempts.
So many lost lives on their kitchen floor, oh papa’s pizzeria how they have forsaken thee.
So Skeppy threw up the medicine and water and crackers that he had been snacking on for the morning- standard sick person diet you know how it is.
The sound of Skeppy vomiting had caused Bad to gag and nearly join him at the toilet so he had locked himself away in the farthest room in the apartment to blast music while Technoblade, with his iron will, went to rub Skeppy’s back.
“Is it over yet?” Bad had asked, peeking his head around the door.
Technoblade looked up at him, the bathroom door wide open allowing Bad to see the deadpan expression on his face, only skewed by the slight pursing of his lips in concern.
It was not over.
Skeppy threw up a record of 4 times throughout the day, mostly after meals, while trying to stomach more medicine. Bad had re-read the label and frantically googled if nearly expired cold medicine was bad to consume but that didn’t seem to be the issue.
Just a stomach bug. How dare it bug the stomach of Skeppy of all people, the worst type of sick person that there can be.
Bad has taken care of a lot of sick people in his life but Skeppy was his own type of sick, he turned his weakness into full dependence on his roommates. Wanting company, to hang out, to make something.
Skeppy had his days where he was more social than others, a lot of the time he spent his days playing alone in his room, perfectly content but when he is sick his social battery does a complete 180.
He turns into the most social person Bad knows, he gains energy from sickness like no one Bad has ever met, he wants to make plans and be spontaneous. He says over and over again, “No I’m totally ready to go out to the bar-the zoo-the mall” and most of the time his ‘totally ready’ is him wearing shorts and a t-shirt with a soup stained collar.
So he wants to be around people- that's no problem. They just have to entertain him enough to make sure he doesn’t leave the apartment.
That is the actually hard part and because of Bad’s strategizing, it is the part that Bad has currently left Techno to accomplish.
To be fair he has already spent the majority of his day joining Skeppy on the couch.
“I have work to do, Skeppy” Bad had insisted, narrowing his eyes and turning his head away from Skeppy, making grabbing motions with his outstretched arms.
“You can work on a laptop on top of my lap,” Skeppy whined.
Bad had sighed and went to unplug his computer. As soon as he sat down on the couch Skeppy had latched on, pulling him down, and tucking his body in amongst the blankets which were obscenely warm already. He pushed Bad’s head down to rest on skeppy’s stomach.
Bad tucked his knees up to balance his computer and tried to type, ignoring Skeppy chattering above him, twirling and fluffing up his roommate’s hair between his fingers. Occasionally stopping to take a breath that he couldn’t get through his clogged nose, or tucking his face into his sleeve to cough.
“Are you emailing right now?” Skeppy whispered, “How lame, you should play cool math games,”
Bad frowned and tilted his head back, skull brushing against the fabric of Skeppy’s shirt, locking eyes with his roommate’s grinning face. “Skeppy-”
“Bad, Bad- I know this cool game we could play together,” He said, “Cool math games.”
“I have to work,” He stressed, pushing the keyboard away from Skeppy’s grubby hands. Hopefully when he and Techno inevitably got sick after Skeppy it went through them faster. Illnesses were always weaker after going through one person right? He probably read that somewhere, sounds about right.
Skeppy’s palms cupped Bad’s cheeks, worryingly warm. Bad frowned for a second, thinking about getting his friend another ice pack, the blankets probably weren’t helping.
“Are you hot?” He asked.
Skeppy shrugged. He put the back of his hand to his forehead.
“That doesn’t mean anything you muffin head,” Bad reached up to take the hand back, squeezing it twice, “Are you cold or hot? I can get you some more ice?”
Skeppy shrugs but Bad can see the goosebumps on his forearms where his short sleeves don’t cover.
Sick people are so confusing.
“I’m going to get you an ice pack,” Bad said.
“Nooooooo!”
“Yesssss.”
“Nooooo”
“I won’t go back and forth on this,” Bad opened the freezer door, picking up a flexible ice pack out and replacing it with a melted one. He put it in the same towel they used before and passed it to Skeppy who put it against his head obligingly.
They sat together a bit more, unsurprisingly getting no work done. Skeppy leaned backwards and started dozing as Bad clicked around uselessly on his computer, interrupted every couple minutes to look up at his friend’s face, twisting with each sniffle, red nose rubbed raw from their cheap tissues they had bought in bulk.
Somewhere along the line Techno had opened his bedroom door to join the two, he pulled a pillow from his room to make sitting on the floor more comfortable and laid at the foot of the couch. He had laid a heavy hand on Skeppy’s forehead to feel his temperature and left it there to soak up the warmth.
Techno blinked slowly and carefully as he leaned into their sick roommate. Bad could look over and feel the silence's significance, the fondessness that he was trying to inflict upon Skeppy, unspoken love glancing his head and dreams.
Turning on the tv, was enough to hide Bad’s smile. The light of the old box cast upon the back of Techno’s head and across Skeppy’s chin, at the lowest volume they could barely hear the recorded laugh track but it was enough.
As he laid against Skeppy his head rose and fell with the steady breaths of Skeppy’s lungs, pushing his chest up and down in sleep.
When Skeppy had woken again it was dark and both Bad and Technoblade were puttering around the kitchen putting some pots together on the stove with their one working burner.
Skeppy had pitched a fit when he had woken, a small one, but a fit nonetheless, and had kicked something off the coffee table while obnoxiously stretching his limbs. He dragged the 3 blankets he had with him into the small kitchen area only to sit down with them all flown around him like a cape on the bare kitchen floor in between their feet, cool to his skin.
Bad and Technoblade walked around him while they worked, bringing the water to a boil for some easy pasta, pizza night would happen another Friday. There were plenty of them in a year.
Skeppy didn’t throw up the pasta, a victory. He was saddened by the fact that they wouldn’t give him the canned tomato sauce to put on top but Techno put his food down against anything too flavoured. Plain noodles with butter is a sick man’s feast.
It was already a late dinner, the tv had transformed from episodes of house transformations into detective shows with gruesome off screen murders and when they were just settling into a movie Skeppy’s coughing had picked up until he gasping more than he was speaking.
Causing yet another frantic search around the, already trashed, apartment for some cold medicine or cough drops. They gave him the medicine but it didn’t say anything about coughs on the bottle, only sniffles and high temperature, which lead to Badboyhalo being here.
At 11:52pm on a Friday night in a Dollarama. 8 Minutes before they close.
Bad walked down the baby aisle again, then down the snack aisle, picking up a pack of reese’s peanut butter cups for Skeppy and a pack of sour worms for Techno along the way, just to try and act like he had a purpose here and wasn’t just looking around only to leave with nothing.
He picked a random aisle, nearly bowling over a rotating stack of cards. It’s diarrhea medicine, old people medicine, Advil, throat soothers, cold medicine, strawberry flavoured kids- wait cough drops.
It’s on the very bottom shelf, hidden from the normal customer's view, what a big waste of time, curse his tallness.
He found it though, that’s all that matters.
Finally.
Bad picked up not the cheapest package of cough drops but maybe more like the third or fourth cheapest out of the bunch. One that said they were extra strength and tasted like lemons and practically ran out of there, past the dead-eyed workers and out the swinging door, speed walking his way home.
He took out his phone, tucking the candy and cough drops under his arm awkwardly- he didn’t ask for a bag.
Scrolling past the predictable word jumble of Skeppy and Techno struggling for a good minute and then sending back his own ‘secured the medicine, be back soon <3’.
Immediately it was read. A photo came in, a bit blurry but a clear high angle shot showing Skeppy immobilized in a blanket burrito prison with Technoblade, who is holding the phone, sitting beside him and grinning sharply.
It seems that Techno has won this battle, he even sent a shrimp emoji, how sweet.
His keys rattle in his pocket as he walks. It’s not even that cold yet, he has no idea why this year’s sickness has gotten a head start, making its way through Skeppy’s work first.
He opens the door and Skeppy immediately lets out a loud wheeze and screams, “Bad!!! I am stuckkkk!”
Bad dumps his items onto the counter. Their dirty dishes are still in the sink, the light is on in the bathroom and kitchen. He locks the door behind him and closes a random open cabinet.
He rips over the package of cough drops, they spill across the counter and a few fall onto the ground. Skeppy coughs a little, tucking his chin to his chest. Bad picks one that didn’t fall and plops it into Skeppy’s open mouth. He is still firmly stuck, Bad can’t even see if his hands are moving beneath the tight blanket.
Techno is sitting at one end of the couch holding Skeppy’s socked feet to stop him from kicking and getting free that way. He has ditched his beloved long sleeved shirt for something shorter and Bad, in mutual respect, tosses off his coat and hoodie to the other side of the room.
Skeppy mumbles around the medicine, Bad taps his chin, “Don’t talk and eat sideways, you will choke,” he scolds, then as a good friend, he pushes Skeppy’s limp form up to a sitting position, laying him against the back of the couch where he is unable to turn around so he is just stuffing his face into the cushions.
“Got there in time I see?” Techno comments.
Techno brings an arm up to meet Bad’s own and they fist bump before Bad picks reveals the package he bought. He passes the bag of sour gummies into Techno empty hand, the one unoccupied with holding their captive, and Techno maneuvers the plastic silently so it’s hidden from sight when Skeppy finally is able to adjust and look at them.
He nods as if nothing happened, “A few minutes to spare.”
“Did you get me any snacks. I’m hungry,” Skeppy mumbles, cheek pressed against the green couch and fiddling with the cough drop between his teeth.
“We have snacks here, crackers!” Bad says.
Skeppy frowns.
“Sugar and cough medicine do not mix,” says Techno, his eyes half closed as he leans back, carefully keeping his candy from sight, neither of them mention the peanut butter cups that are on the counter, a snack for another day when they are less wary about him hurling once they get to sleep.
Bad sits down onto the couch, which is definitely not big enough for three people, pillows, and blankets all at once.
“Says who?” Skeppy challenges.
He pulls Skeppy onto his legs and chest so he can sit an incline and so Skeppy can look him in the face, when he doesn’t immediately put up a fuss over being pushed around Bad lets himself relax fully into the corner of the couch.
“I say.”
He can feel Techno’s legs with his feet, his knees are bent and pushed to the side, it’s almost too hot.
Skeppy narrows his eyes at Techno, “You aren’t a reliable source,”
“I know more than you,”
Skeppy gasps, offended, with his raw throat it's more like a high pitched inhale. He can’t make the same tones when he is like this but he still tries, voice breaking as he rants, “How could you talk to me this way- I am sick, my brain is sick, I am tired, I am weak-”
“I do not care,”
Skeppy clears his throat around his cough drop and tries to rile Techno up whose eyes are already starting to close. The clock ticks past 1:23am.
Bad sighs, idly tapping on his legs through the fabric and weight of their warmth.
He forgot to lock the windows, the tv is still on but it’s muted. The stove is off but the pasta is still in the pot and will dry and get stuck on the bottom but Bad lets it all drift from his head for a second.
Skeppy rolls the cough drop on his teeth and lets the sound rattle. Bad leans backwards, lets his head touch the cushions and lets his neck stretch. He puts his arm on the back of the couch and touches Techno’s forearm while Skeppy stretches out his feet, tucking them into Techno’s side.
Bad lets himself melt into the weight of his roommates, pressing against his body, soothing his frayed nerves, warming his blood and bones, it’s all love, it’s all them.
It feels like he never fell asleep but he absorbs it all for as long as he can, keeping his eyes open until they droop. The tv is projecting colours against their walls, the bathroom light is on and the door is open casting the yellow light across their ceiling. Their living room window’s curtains are open and through it he can see the neighbor’s bricked wall. It’s not much of a view.
He can’t remember if he locked the door when he came in but he drifts, knowing already that Techno will compulsively do his bed routine and double check that everything is closed and covered anyways.
He can’t remember if the sink is drained but no matter Skeppy’s health he will wake up on Saturday morning and clean the bowls and plates.
He will leave the utensils and cups for Techno and Bad respectively.
He will wake up tomorrow to the sound of Skeppy’s alarm clock and have a million emails, all the ones that he has missed today. They might also be out of toilet paper but there is an ever growing shopping list beside their coat rack, a white board that gets routined erased and changed.
His phone isn’t on charge, it’s still in his pants pocket, but there isn’t anyone texting him, keeping him up with its buzzing because he has all his people here.
Bad rests knowing that everything has its place in their apartment, sickness and health.