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When Bill Denbrough invited Stan over to his house he didn't expect it to turn out like this. He didn't expect Stan to turn up looking half-dead and throw up in their toilet about an hour later yet still refuse to go home.
"Stan, pu-puh-lease. Just gh-go home." Bill said, rubbing circles on the other's (still shaking) back, "It's okay, i un-n-nderstand. W-we can do th-h-is some other time. I promise."
Stanley just stayed quiet and shook his head, which only upset his stomach more and made him itch closer to the toilet bowl again. He knew the amount of germs that were probably surrounding him right now and he hated the fact that he knew. He can't go home, he just can't. He had finally couerced his parents into letting him stay at Bill's an entire night and he wasn't going to let all that effort get thrown away. He was going to stay and he was going to fucking enjoy himself.
Bill sighed, not out of annoyance or anger but out of pure worry. He knew that Stan would be okay but he wanted him to get better while being comfortable at home, and he feared that his house wasn't the place for that. (If only he knew how wrong that was.)
"Bill 'm sorry." Stan muttered as he took deep breaths, trying to keep himself together before he burst out in tears then and there in Bill's bathroom. However he wasn't sure how long that'd make him last as he already felt his eyes starting to tear up. C'mon not now.
Bill continued to rub circles on Stanley's back in an attempt to comfort him as much as he could. He knew that Stan felt guilty whenever he needed help with something and he could understand that, in a way. What he didn't understand though was the fact that he felt guilty for something he had no control over, for being taken care of. Something about that thought made Bill's stomach turn. Because how could Stan think that he wasn't worth being taken care of?
"D-don't be." Bill knew that his stutter was alot worse now than normal, he assumed that it was because of the nerves he was feeling. "It's n-nhot your fault, Stan."
Stan opened his eyes so they were no longer squeezed-shut and Bill saw a drop fall onto his cheeks, that's when he decided it was time for Stan to leave the cold bathroom floor and get some rest.
"Let's g-gho to my room, I'll get you a buc-cket, is that o-kay?" He said, standing up but his hand not leaving Stan's back. The other slightly nodded, and used Bill's arm to get himself off of the floor. Bill checked the toilet but everything that did leave Stan's stomach was already washed away, he sighed in relief.
While walking to Bill's room he let Stan lean on him as much as needed, not wanting him to faint on top of it all as well. Once they'd made it Bill offered Stan to go lay in his bed instead of the mattress prepared for him that laid on the floor. As expected, Stan refused telling him that "You'd get sick too"- and that'd it be "Too much of a hassle". He only agreed after Bill promised that he'd wash his sheets after Stan left, which seemed to calm him down and he let Bill settle him into bed.
"And even if i g-get sick, it wouldn-n't kill me." He softly smiled, to which Stan furrowed his eyebrows. He obviously wanted to name every disease Bill could contract from him but he seemed far too exhausted and scared to vomit again to actually open his mouth.
"I'm g-going to get a bucket, okay?" Bill said, about to walk off when he felt a hand around his wrist and heard a silent grumble coming from Stan. Bill let out a huff and turned back to him. "S-Stan i need t-to get it. O-otherwise you m-might throw up on my b-bed."
Stan exhaled throughout his nose and let go of Bill's wrist, to which Bill softly rubbed his arm before leaving the room to fetch a bucket downstairs.
He managed to find an unused one in the basement and when he went to the kitchen to clean it quickly he was met with Georgie.
"What's that bucket for?" he asked while Bill walked over to the sink.
"S-Stan doesn't feel too well. He alr-r-ready threw up once s-so I don't want to take any risks." He answered, seeing Georgie's expression he quickly added, "H-He'll be okay though, P-probably just ate something bad." Which seemed to ease Georgie down again.
"Ow, well tell him i hope he gets better soon." Georgie says before waddling out of the kitchen.
Once he was back in his room he could almost see the relief in Stan's eyes as he put the bucket down and settled down on the mattress that was laid on the floor next to his bed.
"D-did you throw up while i w-was gone?" Bill said, looking up Stan, who was tiredly looking back at him. Stan weakly shook his head.
"I'm sorry, Bill." he muttered, "I wanted this to be fun. Not for you to have to babysit me just because im a little ill."
"A l-little?" Bill huffed, "I-it's not your f-f-fault, Stan. Plus, i don't mind just being around you."
"You just 'don't mind'? Wow, I am hurt, William." Stan said, recieving a chuckle from the other.
Silence fell, making Bill remember what he thought while they were in the bathroom. He wondered if it was even an okay question to ask, would Stan consider it too personal? He thought they were pretty close but what if Stan didn't want to answer and he makes things awkward?
"H-hey Stan?" he asked, which got a 'hm' in return, "Do you feel guilty that i'm trying to take care of you?"
Stan perked up at that, and Bill swears that if he compared him to a stone statue you wouldn't see a difference between the two. Was that too invasive? Bill thought to himself as Stan's happy expression noticably fell.
"Um.." He whispered, "Don't laugh at me, okay?" Bill quickly shook his head.
"I..I do. Kind of. I just- I just don't want to be a bother." He mumbled, making Bill furrow his eyebrows in response.
"Y-you'll never b-b-be a bother, Stan. Not t-to me and not to a-any of the other l-losers. We're f-friends, right?"
"Yeah.."
And that was what ended up breaking Stan. Those two, short sentences made tears well up in Stan's eyes and the short "S-stan?" Bill let out was the push he needed to let it all out, drowning out the nausea he felt moments before.
Bill was quick to get up and hug the other with all the strength he had left in him, something he'd been wanting to do all day but hadn't had a reason to. Stan continued to cry into his shoulder, holding onto Bill just as tight as he was holding him. He didn't have the brain power to think about how vulnerable he was showing himself, how could he when he had Bill Denbrough holding onto him like they were the only two people in the world?
And then suddenly, like his body forgot it was supposed to feel sick, he felt something rising up his throat.
"Bill bucket- bucket-" He said, frantically tapping on Bill's shoulder, who grasped the bucket off of the mattress below and shoved it right onto Stan's lap. Stan buckled forward and made the bucket just in time. Bill started rubbing his back again which only made Stan's stomach feel even weirder, it definitely didn't get better the second Bill stared shooing him. It all felt far, far too domestic.
"I-it's okay S-stan, I'm here." Bill i am vomiting but im not fucking blind. I can see youre there, i still see y-
Another buck, another chill down his spine and another "Y-you're doing g-g-great Stan-" which caused another chill down his spine.
Once Stan had calmed down again Bill took the bucket from him, squeezed his arm for a moment, and then left to clear it. Stan sat waiting, exhausted, still feeling guilty for ruining the fun they were supposed to have. That feeling soon disappeared however, as Bill reentered the room and softly smiled at him. Stan knew that he looked like shit right now so it felt warming to see him still smiling at him like nothing embarrassing had happened.
"How are you so good with this stuff?" Stan questioned as Bill sat next to him again, placing the bucket within reach of both of them.
"I take care of G-georgie alot when he's sick." He nodded. It made sense, really. Bill had always been this big-brother type of figure towards the group, willing to take leader-roles when asked to, making sure everyones okay and taking care of them when they aren't. Stan has always had an admiration for that.
"You aren't a b-bother. S-sometimes you have to let p-p-pheople take care of you." He said, laying his hand on Stan's shoulder, "B-but you have to try and g-get some rest o-okay? Otherw-wise my mom might think you're d-dead." He smirked.
Stan tried smiling back as much as he could, but he was scared any type of movement with his mouth would result in needing the bucket again and he really didn't feel like throwing up. So instead, he just nodded and Bill helped him settle.
Stan was tired, but he was awake enough that when Bill shut the door behind him he still heard the quiet voice of Georgie say
"You won't get sick too, right?"
To which he heard Bill chuckle and respond
"Of S-Stan? Never."