Into the Fire: An Eddie Munson x Reader Story

Chapter Eighteen: Bad Medicine

Description: You spend Sunday taking care of Eddie, doing everything in your power to help him feel better. You make him soup, and give him a steamy bath. And once again, Eddie makes you confront your inner turmoil...

Warnings: swearing, mentions of vomit and illness, anxiety, angst, teasing, light smut, handjob, intimate kissing, sexual frustration

Chapter Eighteen: Bad Medicine

"There's my sexy nurse! I've missed you, baby." Eddie calls to you as you walk in his front door on Sunday morning. You biked over after a short trip to the supermarket to gather some get-well supplies. He's laying on the couch to watch TV, covered up in a cozy blanket. There's various objects splayed about his lap, a paperback novel, D&D stuff, his sketchbook, and various writing utensils.

"Hi, love. How's my handsome patient?" You reply, putting your backpack on the kitchen table with a thump.

"Still pretty awful, but Wayne's all better. He's actually working a double today to make up for the time he lost while being at home." He says as you walk over to him. He sits up against the armrest, letting you clear the mess away before sitting at his side. His eyes have bags under them, he must not have slept much. And he's so pale, with a light sheen of sweat glistening on his face and neck.

"Still pukey?" You feel his forehead with your lips, still noticing a bit of a fever.

"A little, better than yesterday though. My head is killing me, and I keep going hot and cold." You glance around to see if the thermometer is out here, realizing it might still be in Eddie's room.

"I'll be right back, Eds." You say simply, getting up to retrieve the little glass instrument. You locate it on his nightstand, just where you left it yesterday. You notice some fresh cigarette butts in his ashtray, the little shit had smoked when you explicitly told him not to. You suppose it shouldn't be a big deal, he's twenty-three for fuck's sake. But you know it'll just make him take longer to get better, and you hate to see him so miserable. You return to the room,  standing next to the couch with a stern look on your face.

"What's wrong, angel?" He looks nervous, like he knows he's been caught. He swallows hard, worried you'll be angry with him.

"Eddie, did you smoke at all after I asked you not to?" You cross your arms, waiting for his response. He averts your gaze, your stare making him anxious.

"Maybe." He mumbles, cursing himself for not emptying the ashtray earlier.

You sigh, at least he's not lying about it. "Oh, Eddie. Look, I know it's a built in habit for you. It's getting to be that way for me too. But if you keep doing it while you're sick, it's just gonna take longer for you to get better." He scowls at you, annoyed for being treated like a child. You just roll your eyes, continuing your mini lecture. "You're a grown man, you can do what you want. I'm not gonna stop you, but I'm just trying to help. You don't want to stay sick for longer than you have to, do you?"

"I suppose not." He says in resignation, crossing his own arms now. Eddie apparently gets quite bratty when he's sick, he's lucky it's a cute look on him.

You know exactly what to say to convince him to stop smoking, letting a mischievous smirk spread across your face. You sit down once more, leaning in real close to look deep into his eyes. "You know....the sooner you get better, the sooner I can give you head and have sex with you." You tease in a sing-song voice, making his eyes widen.