Reddie Oneshots

The Time Richie Got The Flu (Pt. 1)

found this story on ao3, by MellytheHun
very soft.. its adorable 💖💖
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When Eddie arrives at the Tozier household, no one answers the front door, and he's a little alarmed to find it unlocked.

He has a cotton mask covering the bottom half of his face, latex gloves on, an assortment of over-the-counter medications, a thermometer, a bag of groceries that will come together in a healing dinner, and a change of clothes, in the event the worst case scenario plays out.

It was during his free period earlier that day that he found Bill, and was able to inquire after Richie - it's not totally unusual for Richie to run late in the mornings, but he hadn't shown up at all for their shared Chemistry class, and he worried.

Bill told him that he'd spoken with Richie over the phone just the night before, and knew Richie to be staying at home, sick.

"Why did he tell you, and not me?" Eddie had asked, incited.

"He p-p-prob-probably just d-didn't want to f-freak you out," Bill explained, smiling kindly, "None of us c-caught whatever b-b-bug he's got, b-but, sometimes, when you know someone's s-sick, you w-worry that you c-contracted it, t-too."

Eddie frowned, because, while that was true, he didn't really count Richie among those people - sometimes, if he found out belatedly that someone fell ill after going to dinner with the Losers, he'd panic, and ask everyone to disclose precisely what they ate, and when, to see if he'd possibly eaten contaminated food, too.

Flu season, he barely comes within five feet of anyone in the Losers Club. They all share so much space, and so many objects, it would be a breeding ground for viruses, if their immune systems were even slightly weaker than what they normally are.

And despite Richie's general lack of hygiene, he's a healthy young man. Taller than average, for sixteen, and getting stronger, too. Not by much - he's still lanky, still sort of weedy, but he's able to help Mike load, and unload deliveries when asked, and his chest and shoulders seem to get broader every day.

"His parents don't take care of him," Eddie had told Bill, shaking his head, "He's probably holed up in his room with a flop sweat, and neither of his parents have ever been bothered to help him. We should go see him."

"G-Go see him?" Bill asked, alarmed, "I d-don't mind, b-b-but I thought you'd n-never -"

"He's sick! Richie's sick, Bill," Eddie insisted, thinking Bill was not nearly as upset as he ought to be, "Richie's sick, and no one's gonna take care of him, if we don't."

Bill nodded, frowned, and replied, "I w-w-would go, normally, b-but I've g-got my j-job, after school. Is there something else I c-can d-do to help?"

Eddie didn't like asking for money, but he put his pride aside, and did it for Richie - his own allowance wouldn't cover all the disinfectant he needed to make Richie's home sanitary again. Nevermind the fresh groceries he had in mind, to get.

"Richie?" Eddie calls, toeing into the house cautiously, "Richie, you upstairs?"

"Eddie?" a voice rasps back at him.

It feels like Eddie's entire chest caves in at that voice, knowing well the sound of a sore throat. Odds of it being strep were slim, as there wasn't an outbreak at school recently, but Richie wouldn't be down and out over a little cold, either.