Reddie Oneshots

ed's got a migraine

found this adorable shit on ao3, by ShowMeAHero
its really soft 💖💞💓💕💕💗💝💘💖💞💓💓💗

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Eddie can barely keep his eyes open, which— He doesn't really want to keep his eyes open. His brain is swelling and his stomach is churning and his skull is being crushed, but he still wants to go out, because he's insane.

He also has a real thing for Richie, and he doesn't want Richie to think he's trying to bail. He's also pretty positive he can't even stand up right now. So, in the end, he grabs his phone in his darkened living room and shoots off a text.

can't make it tonight. sorry. migraine, he types, then sends. They've been seeing each other pretty much every other night, if not every night (for the past week or so), but he still feels like shit for cancelling.

He's also still fucking miserable from his migraine, but he can't make himself actually get up to do anything about it. All he manages to do is shove his head under a throw pillow to block out the late afternoon sunlight still trying to stream through the cracks in his curtains.

It's a fitful sleep, that he falls into, and he comes out of it when he hears a tentative knocking at the door. Eddie frowns slightly, not even lifting his head from where it's still shoved between the throw pillow and the couch cushions. He hears a soft shuffling, then a muffled curse and the sound of his front door unlocking.

Whoever it is — and Eddie's praying it's not a killer, and also half-praying it is, so somebody will put him out of his misery — moves incredibly slowly in an attempt to be quiet, Eddie's assuming. He feels more than hears them come to his side, and then the pillow is being gently removed from his face.

"Hey, Eds," Richie murmurs quietly. Eddie doesn't open his eyes, his face scrunching up as he turns slightly onto his back. A cool weight presses into his cheek, and Eddie sighs, leaning into it; it's Richie's hand, he realizes, and he reaches up to take his wrist and push his hand up to his forehead.

"How'd you get in here?" Eddie mumbles.

"I remember you buried the key next to the stairs." Richie's long, cold fingers shift, turning so his palm pressing into Eddie's forehead instead of the back of it.

"What're you doing here?" Eddie asks. Richie's thumb rubs a soothing circle into the bone of his skull at his temple.

"You said you had a migraine," Richie explains. He's so carefully keeping his loud voice quiet, and Eddie appreciates it more than he has the words to say, right now. "I get 'em a lot, so. I figured I'd come help you."

"Why?" Eddie asks. Richie shrugs, leaning over to kiss Eddie on the cheek before he gets up and goes to a bag he's left on the floor.

"What else was I doing tonight?" Richie asks in return. "My plans got cancelled." He looks down into the bag with a slight frown, then looks over at Eddie. "Can you walk? You would probably be more comfortable in your bed."

"I don't want to move," Eddie tells him. After a moment, Richie surveys Eddie, then crouches down next to him to smooth his hair back from his face.

"Is it okay if I carry you?" Richie asks. It's embarrassing as fuck, how fast Eddie's face heats up, but he nods slightly once. Richie slips one arm under his back and another under his knees, holding him close in a bridal carry. Eddie just buries his face in Richie's chest to hide it from the light in the hallway.

Richie goes slowly, and he gingerly sets Eddie down at the foot of the bed so he can turn down the covers before helping him in. He looks Eddie over, then starts stripping off his clothes. Eddie had been kind of optimistic, before the migraine got too bad to leave the house, that their date would still happen, so he's relieved when Richie pulls his nice clothes off and swaps them out for soft pajamas he finds in Eddie's dresser.