Work Text:
Whump Prompt: “It comes and goes like the strength in your bones.”
Cold compress, infection, “I don’t feel so good.”
As Robin sat at the breakfast table, she watched her mother flip through her house design magazine. Melissa smiled at the colourful images on the page, dog-earing it for future reference. She had a huge stack of magazines that she was going through.
“What d’you think?” Melissa asked her daughter, turning the page so Robin could look at it. “See how that colour really brings the room together? I think we should get some for the living room.”
Robin nodded, giving her mother a faint smile. She didn’t really care about paint colours. Her mother had been on a home decorating spree lately, coming home from the store with all sorts of small sample buckets. Painting, then repainting, trying to get just the right shade. The Buckley residence was a mess. All the books, and crates of records had been stored away, the furniture covered with white drop sheets. The windows were permanently open to air out the place, so the house was chilly most days. The only untouched room, was Robin’s bedroom. She had refused to let her mother paint over the purple walls – the colour grounded her. She didn’t want her mother’s chaos reaching the safety of her bedroom. And so far, Melissa had held off repainting it.
“Eat your breakfast, honey,” Melissa said, glancing up at her. She frowned, checking the time. “Steve will be here soon, won’t he?”
“In a few minutes, yeah.”
Robin stirred her soggy corn flakes around the bowl, unable to eat another bite. She’d been feeling off for the last few days. Her stomach was twisted up in knots, and her appetite was gone. She’d tried not to think too much about it at first, thinking it was just one of those winter bugs going around. Robin didn’t want to miss her shift at Family Video, so she popped a few painkillers on her way out the door, rushing into Steve’s car parked at the curb.
“Hey, Rob,” Steve said, fiddling with the radio dial. He flipped through a few stations, finally stopping on the Indy station. Steve glanced at her, seeing her flushed cheeks, and beads of sweat on her face and neck. He frowned. “You feeling alright?”
“I’m fine,” Robin lied. Then she shook her head. “Actually, I think I’m coming down with something. I feel pretty shitty. Fair warning – I’m going to probably be phoning it in at work.”
“You can take it easy at work today, if you need to,” Steve said. “I’ll pick up the slack, don’t worry.”
“Thanks.” Robin slouched down in her seat, listening to the ‘Bangles’ song on the radio.
Throughout their shift, Robin tried her best to focus on her work. She rung in customers, and answered the phones as well as she could – though she found even those tasks pretty draining. Steve restocked the shelves, and walked around to help out the customers. She was hoping to feel better by lunchtime, but Robin still felt terrible.
Steve flipped the sign closed, and they went into the back room to have their lunch break. Steve made them both some tea with the electric kettle, adding a splash of milk to both mugs. He brought one to Robin, setting it in front of her. Robin thanked him, blowing on it to cool it down somewhat.
Robin’s lunch – pastrami sandwich, and a lemon yogurt cup – sat untouched. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to stomach it. She was going to stash the yogurt cup in the fridge for later. Robin pushed the sandwich towards Steve, and watched as he ate a few bites.
“I know you’re scheduled to work tomorrow,” Steve said, concerned, “but I really think you should take the day off. Just call in sick, and rest up until you’re feeling better.”
“I dunno,” Robin said, noncommittally. “Maybe.”
Steve watched as she pulled the large bottle of painkillers from her purse. Robin downed a few, hoping that they would help. They didn’t seem to be helping any, though. He wondered how many of those Robin had eaten in the past few days.
“You want me to take you to the doctor, or something?” Steve asked. “I think whatever kind of infection you’ve got, you need something stronger than those painkillers.”
“I said I’m fine,” Robin snapped at him. She sighed, running a hand over her face. “Sorry, it’s just – I really want to work my shift, and stick to my regular schedule. I don’t want to go to the doctor, and I don’t want to take time off and be at home right now.”
“Are you and your mom fighting again?” Steve asked, raising his eyebrows at her.
“No more than usual,” Robin said. “It’s got nothing to do with her.”
Steve reached out to her, pressing his hand against her forehead. She was burning up, her skin hot and tight, and damp with sweat. He got up, and grabbed the ice cube tray out of the tiny icebox above the fridge. He dumped them out into a washcloth, and used a rubber band to tie it off. He went and sat down, pulling his chair closer to the small round table. Steve handed her the cold compress. He propped up one of his elbows on the table, watching Robin hold it against her forehead. She closed her eyes, trying to find some relief from the feverish heat.
“Rob,” Steve said, quietly. “Why don’t you want to be at home?”
“My mom’s repainting the house. The whole place stinks of paint fumes,” Robin said, scrunching up her nose in disgust. “It’s awful. The fumes give me a massive headache, and I already feel like death, so being there right now is the absolute worst thing I can think of.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. I guess Mom hated how our house looked for a while. Mom wanted to make things look more like the houses she saw in her magazines,” Robin said, her eyes still closed. “So, she keeps painting it over and over again, until she’s satisfied.”
“Damn. I liked the colours at your house. They felt . . . I dunno – warm.”
“Yeah, me too.” Robin opened her eyes for a few seconds, glancing across the table at him. “I know I’m sick. It’s just, I’d really rather be here at work, than at home right now. My dad was sick last week. He had to take a few days off work, and he was throwing up, and everything.” Robin shuddered. “It was awful. I think he passed it onto me.”
“Yeah, he might’ve.” Steve frowned. “But if he passed it onto you, then that means you might make me sick. Or the other customers.”
“Oh.” Robin frowned. She hadn’t really thought about that. “If I make you sick, then I apologize in advance.”
“We’ve got like, two hours of our shift left over,” Steve said. “When we’re done, I can drive you home. Or to my house, if you want.”
“Yeah.” Robin nodded. “I wanna go to your place. Way less paint fumes.”
When they went back to work after their lunch break, Steve made Robin a fresh cold compress, so she could try and cool off. Robin laid on the floor behind the counter where customers couldn’t see her, holding it to her head. She was still feeling extremely overheated, and Steve felt bad for her. As soon as their shift was done, they would go home. Robin could take a day or two off work, get some proper sleep. He’d swing by the pharmacy after work, pick up some medication. He’d keep an eye on her, make sure that Robin stayed in bed until she was feeling better.