Chapter Text
The day started like any other, with Stanley waking up, staying in bed for a few extra minutes, and then making coffee. The only thing that really surprised him was that the Narrator was still asleep. Odd, he thought. The Narrator usually woke up before him. He shrugged his shoulders. Sometimes the Narrator did this, and it was alright to oversleep from time to time. It’s not like he had a job to go to or anything; that was Stanley’s thing. And even then, neither of them had to really wake up early for that, since he had the evening shift.
Stanley started on the coffee, and right as it started to pour into the mug did he start to get a little concerned. The Narrator was usually awake by now. He glanced at the coffee, and decided it could wait. He walked back to the bed, where the Narrator still slept. He was strangely silent, worrying Stanley even deeper. The Narrator always snored at least a little bit; it was one of the things Stanley found most endearing. Stanley felt a pit in his stomach, and went up closer to his sleeping beauty. He gently placed a hand on his forehead, and immediately flinched away.
He was practically burning hot. Stanley’s eyes widened, and he suddenly had enough adrenaline-powered energy that he didn’t need even that coffee anymore. Stanley wasn’t experienced in dealing with sickness. Whenever the Narrator got sick before, the Curator was there to help them through it. But she couldn’t come, not this time. She was out on a cruise with her girlfriend, so she wouldn’t be able to be there in person.
A metaphorical lightbulb appeared in Stanley’s mind, and he whipped out his phone. Sure, she wasn’t able to be there in person, but he had her number for a reason! She could just tell him what to do! He almost fit the call button before remembering that he had no idea if he’d be able to speak today. The answer was usually no, on account of something that had seemingly happened to his throat that he had no memory of that made it hurt to speak. That and his whole selective mutism and nonverbal thing. He cleared his throat, and sounded out a few random vowel sounds. He felt pretty okay for a morning, so he pressed the button on his phone.
It rang, and it rang, and it rang. Stanley was starting to lose hope that she would answer before her face filled his vision.
“Hello Stanley, what might you want on this fine day?” The Curator seemed to be in a rather good mood, already wide awake. It was odd seeing her in a human form, since she usually preferred to take the look of a more angelic-type, distinctly nonhuman figure when not in public. But today she wore sunglasses, and her long, wavy, white hair was up in a bun. She was even wearing casual clothing for once. Stanley couldn’t see her entire outfit, but he guessed she was wearing some sort of swimsuit, considering she was out on a boat and all.
“Narrator’s sick.” He spoke, voice quiet and slightly raspy. The Curator sighed, exasperation clear.
“Again?” Stanley nodded. “Ugh, of course it gets sick on the one day I can’t be there. Let me guess, you called to ask how to help him yourself?” Stanley nodded again. The Curator smirked a bit, but it wasn’t a cynical one like usual .
“I suppose I could lend you a few tips. I’ll send you a list of things you might need, but you have to fill me in on the details of just how bad he’s sick this time.”
“He’s still asleep, and he’s burning up really bad.” Stanley glanced back at the bed, worry lacing his tone. “He never sleeps this late.”
The Curator frowned at that. “Stanley, you’re not going to like my suggestion much but I recommend waking him up. Not right now mind you, but maybe after making him something to help, like soup. Do you still have those cans of chicken noodle soup I left there last time?” Stanley nodded at that, and grabbed one to hold up to the camera just to get his point across. “Perfect. Read the instructions on that while I message you a list of things you need. If you don’t have the things on the list, go to the nearby pharmacy. I’ll message you the address as well, just in case.”
Stanley nodded and squinted down at the tiny instructions on the can. They were a little hard to read, but he could make it out if he tried. He could hear the Curator typing, and smiled a bit as he heard her momentarily stop to talk to her girlfriend. He wasn’t really listening in, but he knew it was her because their voices were so distinctly different from one another’s. Stanley finished reading the directions, and began searching for a can opener in the drawers. He was relieved to find one, although he wouldn’t have particularly minded prying it open with his bare hands. The Curator stayed on the phone as he started on the dish, and he wondered to himself if she thought he’d burn it if she left. She might be right, Stanley thought, realizing that his thoughts drifting away had caused him to set the oven to the wrong temperature.
His phone dinged, making him glance over.
“Done, the list has been sent to you. Don’t be afraid to call or text me if you need my help again. I’d stay longer, but I’m kind of on vacation, Stanley.” There was a playful, teasing edge to her voice. Stanley smiled amusedly, and nodded his head. She bid him farewell and hung up the phone, leaving Stanley in silence once again. He tried to remember what the Curator had done the times before. Stanley was no expert, as he had a surprisingly good immune system and rarely got sick. He opened his phone and checked the list she’d sent him.
Looking around, he was glad to find that most of the things listed were thankfully stocked up already in the bathroom cupboard. He had a feeling that he didn’t need to use all of it, but placed it all out on the table just in case. He made a mental note to read all of the little instructions to figure out what each of them is for, specifically.
He did notice however, that the Curator said to make sure he drank lots of water. Stanley looked around the kitchen area for any sign of water, but all they really had was the sink and some sparkling water that they only had for when the Curator brings her girlfriend over, and he had a feeling she wasn’t referring to that. He knew the Narrator would be fussy about drinking tap water, so he quickly turned off the stove and threw on a light jacket.
Fishing through the pockets of it, he made sure his wallet was there and counted the money in it. Nodding his head, Stanley walked out the door, making sure to lock it behind him just in case. He knew the store wasn’t far from the apartment, but he was worried about the Narrator waking up to no one there and frowned to himself. He was already out the door however, and decided there was no going back now.