Work Text:
Ed had a bottle of pills bobbing around somewhere in the pocket of his coat.
He forgot about them, usually. He’d misplace them, or they’d startle him when he stuck his hands deep into his pockets. Sometimes, he considered their uses. What could he do with 5 mg oxycodone and 325 mg acetaminophen (times ten or twenty or whatever) and tiny measures of cornstarch and silicone dioxide and cellulose?
The answer was not much, except take them. Which was the one thing he didn’t do. The throbbing pain where his arm and leg attached was a reminder. He needed it.