Chapter Text
Working at Family Video wasn’t the greatest thing in the world, but it gave him a paycheck, and Steve definitely needed that paycheck, thank you very little. His dad was paying for the bills on the house, of course, but Steve knew it was only a matter of time before he got kicked out, and taking care of a bunch of ruggrats was no easy task, either.
So, naturally, Steve kind of needed that paycheck. Which was why he found himself at working, carting around a thing of tissues, and ignoring the looks he got whenever his throat decided he needed to hack up a lung.
Honestly, he felt like he got hit by a bus.
“You look like you got hit by a bus, Harrington,” Keith helpfully voiced as he watched Steve finish ringing up a customer who had continued to back away the more Steve helped the poor woman. “Why are you here, again?”
Steve rolled his eyes, careful to cough into one of the many tissues.
“You know why,” Steve grumbled, well aware he sounded like a chainsmoker. “I’m poor, now. Remember? I need the money.”
Keith huffed. “You realize you have sick-days, right?”
Steve shrugged. “No point staying home alone being miserable, then.”
“Uh, yeah. You’re contaminating the customers, Harrington. Go home.”
“It’s just a cold.”
“Don’t care, man. Go home. Or I’ll fire you.”
“You can’t fire me for being sick.”
“Watch me.”
Steve could only glare for a couple seconds before he broke out into yet another harsh coughing fit that had several people wincing or glaring at him. Steve wished it hadn’t been a school day because Robin would have backed him up. Or sent him home after backing him up. But it was a school day and Steve had no choice but to go along with it.
“Fine. I’ll go home. Happy?”
“Very,” Keith agreed as he began shuffling through some sort of files and papers Steve couldn’t really make out. “Don’t be too miserable, Harrington.”
Huffing, Steve clocked out and moved to his car, watching as Keith picked up the phone to make some sort of call. Not that it was any of Steve’s concern, after all. Keith could do whatever he wanted with the phone. But it did strike Steve as odd that Keith, of all people, would make a personal call. Dude was normally a stickler for the rules when others were around to see him.
Robin was sure it was because he wanted to mock Steve, who was constantly answering calls from the kids, but that was beside the point.
The drive home was long and uneventful, other than a few coughing fits and the occasional, miserable sniffle here and there. Honestly, a nap sounded perfect. Steve was looking forward to it.
He probably needed to eat something, though. And take more medicine.
Whatever, it wasn’t like Steve really cared about that. He’d be fine. He’d take a quick nap and then be just fine. It was just a cold, after all. Nothing to worry about.
As one does when sick out of their mind, Steve promptly face-planed on the couch and proceeded to take a long overdue nap.
He’d be fine.
—------------------------------
Steve woke up feeling like he got hit by a tank.
It was kind of painful, actually. His entire body was covered in sweat, his nose was so congested, he was struggling to breath, his lungs felt like weights inside his chest, and his entire body seemed to ache from everywhere and nowhere all at once.
Because of this, it took Steve a moment too long to realize what had even woken him up to begin with. He had to hear the sound at least two more times for it to make sense in his head, and even then, he had to force himself up to go confront the source of what woke him.
“Hello?” he croaked as he pulled the front door open. “Mrs. Byers? Mr. Munson, what-?”
“Hi, Steve,” Joyce Byers greeted him cheerfully, if a bit sadly as she looked him over. “How are you feeling?”
“I… fine?”
“You look like you got hit by a truck, kid,” Wayne Munson hummed, reaching up to feel Steve’s forehead. “Gota nasty fever too. Let’s get you inside and sat down, yeah?”
Steve wasn’t sure what was happening. All he knew was that Wayne was suddenly guiding him inside and Joyce was trailing into his kitchen.
“What are you-?”
“Well, Robin decided to put Mrs. Byers and I down as your emergency contact, with our permission, of course, and Keith called us today to inform us you were sick.”
Betrayal. Betrayal of the worst degree.
Steve and Robin had argued about emergency contacts for months before she finally dropped it. Steve had just assumed he’d won. But no. No. Robin had simply gone behind his back. The jerk.
“Sorry, he shouldn’t have bothered you like that. I’m fine.”
To convince Wayne further on the topic, Steve began to hack up a lung.
“It’s just a cold.”
“Well, that ‘just a cold’ can become something much worse if you don’t treat it, kid,” Wayne chastised as he finally go Steve back on the couch. “Now, let’s see. Should probably try to get that fever down. You got a medicine cabinet, kid?”
“Downstairs bathroom,” Steve shrugged. “Knock yourself out.”
“Right. Blankets?”
“Hall closet to the left.”
Left alone to his own head, Steve found himself drifting in and out of consciousness. He felt a cloth being pressed to his head, surprisingly cold. His head was put on a pillow, and someone helped him take medicine as someone else wrapped him up in blankets.
He was just so tired.
When he was next coherent, it was to find the TV on, and someone offering him soup. He was fairly certain he was watching an episode of Scooby Doo, but it was hard to tell with his brain feeling like mush. All he was really aware of was that he needed to eat the offered soup. Everything after that was a bit of a blur.
But when he finally woke up and became coherent again, it was to find Eddie sitting at in front of him on the couch.
“Eddie…?” he slurred, voice a sleepy croak. “What-?”
“You got a nasty cold there, Stevie,” Eddie hummed, knocking his head back against Steve’s legs. “Here. Take this nasty stuff and go back to bed.”
Who was Steve to argue with that logic?
—-----------------------------
“I literally told you not to go to work, dingus,” Robin chastised him as they watched Eddie shuffle a deck of cards. “Like, you drove me to school and I told you to go home.”
“I don’t remember this conversation,” Steve confessed, shaking his head. “All I remember is taking you to work,” here, Steve paused to hack up his non-existent lungs. He was pretty sure they had vanished into the wind, never to be seen again. “Then going to work, and then Keith telling me to go home. I think I watched Scooby Doo somewhere in there, but my brain was mush. Like, mushier than the Russian drug incident.”
Robin just hummed, “I believe it.”
As Eddie handed out the cards, the little gang gathered in Steve’s living room prepared to once more be creamed by Argyle at a round of Old Maid. No one was quite sure how, but they’d all swear the dude had a sixth sense when it came to the Joker Card.
“Dude, being that sick sucks, man,” Argyle stated. “I swear I dreamed up an entire Scooby Doo movie one time.”
“What’s up with being sick and watching Scooby Doo?” Jonathan frowned, looking between Steve and Argyle. “Mom used to play it for Will and I whenever we were sick, too.”
“It’s probably just what was on TV at the time,” Eddie snickered. “I mean, it’s a pretty cool show. It always come on a different times, too. So even if you got terrible cable, you’re bound to get at least one channel with Scooby Doo on it.”
“It is a classic,” Nancy agreed. “Is Steve starting again?”
“No. No. I am not starting. I say we let Argyle start. Maybe it’ll throw him off his groove or something.”
“Good luck with that,” Jonathan snorted.
“Hold on a moment,” Wayne stepped into the room. “Hopper’s gonna be back with dinner and the kids any minute now. Perhaps save this next round till after the kids bombard Steve with their day.”
“I thought the whole point was that the kids weren’t supposed to come here,” Robin teased as she leaned back on her arms. “Cause Stevie didn’t want them to get sick.”
“Yeah, well, did you honestly think they’d stay away for long?” Eddie snorted.
Steve only sighed. “Fine. Fine. They can come. But only for, like, an hour. I don’t want them catching this.”
“Aw, you care so much about them,” Eddie mockingly cooed. “Do we not get the same care, Harrington?”
“You’re adults. They’re kids. I can at least boss one of those two around when it comes to their health and safety. You were already here when I woke up.”
“Touche,” Eddie said slowly. “Touche, Harrington.”
In the past, sick days were the bane of Steve’s existence. Spent alone, uncared for, fighting to get through whatever sickness he had. But this… this Steve could get used to.
He was still going to give Robin grief for going behind his back, but that was for a day he wasn’t so sick and surrounded by people who actually cared for him.
“STEVE!” Dustin’s voice bellowed through the house. “STEVE! MY MOM SENT ME WITH HOMEMADE CHICKEN NOODLE SOUP!”
Yeah, this was perfect a pretty perfect sick day.