#anyways......good 2 know this sore throat is probably not contagious bad to know that it will be lasting for approximately ??

[wethecelestial]

"good news! it's not covid, just formaldehyde" and other sexy texts you may receive from the medical students in ur life

[organized-chaotic-disaster]

WARNING: talking about covid :') (not the impact it's had globally but the actual sickness itself)

Venting

I'm honestly so stressed bc I have covid and. It's just not going away so I keep having to call in sick to work. And I'm scared I'm gonna get into trouble bc I keep calling in but. I refuse. I fucking REFUSE to contribute to the spread of this shit. And besides, I need the rest to recover!!!! I deserve that!!!!

Thankfully I'm not feeling too terrible— had a mild sore throat for a few days, and some stuffiness/runny nose, but that's mostly gone and now it's largely extreme tiredness and a bad headache which honestly is pretty typical for me anyway —but I'm still fucking contagious, and who knows what might happen if I push myself. My job is really physical and I work in a cooler, meaning, I'm working in the fucking cold!! That won't help me at all!! Those factors combined basically make work the worst place for me to be rn

(And just as a disclaimer, pretty sure I'm having such a mild case bc I've had 4 shots of the vaccine now— and my dad has it and has 2 things against him to make him immunocompromised, and this has mostly been like a bad cold for him, he hasn't needed to go to the hospital. If you can but haven't gotten the vaccine yet, DO IT!!)

But I'm still so stressed about it. I wish I could just recover and test negative so I could go back to work, because it's constantly in the back of my mind that I might get in trouble for calling in sick every single day I'm scheduled to work for over a week, especially during Christmas, which is literally a blackout period for vacations— in other words, you aren't allowed to take vacation during this time of year. This stress is eating at me and I just wanna make it go away. Funnily enough, it's probably making it harder for me to get better 😅

And bc I'm a student, I only work 2 days a week during semesters, and legit this started the DAY after my first day back from this last semester, and my next one starts immediately after new year's, so I'm worried this looks like I'm trying to skip out on work when I otherwise would be doing like 40 hours but I'm really not!!!! I'm just trying to do the right thing 😭 a couple coworkers have long covid, others aren't vaccinated, we have some older people. But even without those factors, I wouldn't wanna go in and spread it around

idk I'm just. I'm very stressed and a tiny part of my mind has legitimately been worried I'll get fired over this. I seriously doubt I will bc it's almost impossible to get fired from my workplace (it's a joke that you have to try lmao) and bc of the good name I've built for myself there. I've been there almost 10 years now, they know I don't pull shit like this just for shits and giggles. But the worry is still there, you know?

Ughhhh I've gotta sleep so I can wake up at 5AM to call work and tell them I still have covid, then go back to sleep bc fuck that shit :')

Wish me luck when I have to get up in like 4 1/4 hours lmaoooo

[rickybowensfever]

Sicktember - Ricky’s Doctor Visit

 Part two of What If Ricky Missed Auditions?

Read on AO3

#Sicktember prompts 

Doctor’s Visit/Check Up

Contagious

CW: Lack of appetite

By Friday, Ricky felt awful. He had a pounding headache, his throat was raw, excruciatingly sore and his fever lingered from the day before. While his Dad was calling him out of school for another day, he texted him. 

R:  can you take me to the dr? 

D: Sure!!

Ricky sat in the cold office. Fluorescent lights flickering. He wore a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt. He was shivering even though he just took another dose of medicine before he left the house. Talking was becoming unbearable as the pain in his throat got worse with every word he made out. 

“Ricky Bowen?” the nurse called out. 

Ricky nodded as he heard his name and walked back with the nurse to an empty room. 

“So, Ricky, what’s going on?” she asked, with a laptop resting on her lap. 

“My throat. Is. Sore” he said, hoarsely. Almost rolling his eyes at her questions. His throat hurt so much, he’d rather not talk. But, he knew that was impossible. 

“Right. Okay. And, when did that start?” she asked. 

“Wednesday” he muttered, wincing as he talked. 

 After what felt like a million questions, the nurse exited the room until the doctor came in. 

The door opened and a tall, brown man in a white coat came into the room. 

“Hi, Ricky! I’m Dr. Martinez” the man said, taking a seat where the nurse sat. 

Ricky answered the same questions he just told the nurse. He felt annoyed having to repeat himself especially when his throat was on fire. 

The man examined his eyes, nose, and finally, his throat. 

“Ah, I see. Well, I’m going to run a strep test. Is that alright?” he asked. 

Ricky nodded. Sure, whatever would make him get out of here faster and make his throat hurt less. 

The doctor came back with a white stick incased in plastic. He opened the plastic and revealed the thin stick. 

“This will be a little uncomfortable, but it’ll be quick” he explained, holding the instrument up in the air. 

“Open” the doctor instructed. Ricky opened his mouth and the doctor swabbed his throat. Ricky coughed, groaning from the pain. 

“Be right back!” the doctor said. 

Ricky yawned. God, he was so tired. He just wanted to go home and go right back to bed. 

Minutes later, the doctor came back. 

“Hi, Ricky. The strep test came back positive,” the doctor said, “I’m going to write you a prescription for some antibiotics, and I can write you a doctor’s note as well. You’ll probably be back at school in about 5-7 days. I’ll consult with your Dad on when the note should be good until” the doctor explained to him. 

He quickly wrote on a white sheet of paper and handed it to him. 

“Here is the prescription. You can give this to your dad and I’ll walk you out” the man said.  

Ricky nodded. “Thanks,” he said, raspy. 

“Sure thing! Feel better” he said as they walked into the waiting room. 

“Mr. Bowen, a word?” the doctor said. Mike got up from his seat to greet the doctor. 

“Dr. Martinez, nice to meet you,” the man said, and continued to fill his Dad in on everything. 

 Ricky sat in the waiting room until his Dad finished talking. “Alright, let’s get this prescription in and I’ll take you home to get some rest. Then, I’ll go pick it up later. You might want to give Nini and Miss Jenn a heads up. Sorry, bud” his dad said, feeling bad for his son. 

 Ricky was relieved when the car drove into their driveway. He quickly unbuckled his seat belt and slowly walked up to his room. 

“I’ll bring up some more of that pain reliever and maybe some soup?” His Dad asked his son as he was halfway up the stairs. 

Ricky turned his head, nodding at his Dad. 

“Sorry, I know you’re in pain,” he said, “Get some rest, and I’ll keep the soup on the stove for later” 

Ricky nodded again and finally made it to his bed where he curled up under the covers and fell asleep. 

 His phone was blowing up when he woke up. His room was dark. Ugh, he must’ve been asleep for hours. 

N: hey babe, any news? 

N: hope you’re resting, love you <3 

Wildcats GC 50 Unread Messages

 His throat was raw, the pain medicine from earlier clearly wore off. Ricky dreaded having to tell his friends and Nini that he was too sick for auditions. It was Friday. Usually, he was going to Slices with Nini and meeting their friends there for their Friday night plans - playing board games and watching movies on Netflix at Ashlynn’s. 

Ricky took a deep breath. He took his phone, tapped Nini’s messages opening them on his screen, and started typing away. 

R: gonna miss auditions 

R: i have strep 

Nini was probably already at Ashlynn’s, rehearsing for tomorrow. So, while he waited for his phone to buzz, he attempted to get out of bed and get his antibiotics. 

He slowly walked down the stairs, hearing the TV playing. His Dad was watching college baseball. Trying to be as quiet as possible, his Dad inevitably heard him. 

“Hey, Rick! I got your medicine and there’s some soup on the stove. Medicine is on the counter” 

“Thanks,” he said, his voice hoarse.  Ricky took the white bag from the pharmacy and pulled out an orange bottle with his name on it, reading the directions, he took one large pill chasing down with water. 

His appetite was non-existent. But, he knew he had to eat something. He clicked on the stovetop where the pot of soup was sitting and stirred it with a spoon, waiting for the heat to kick on. 

Bzz. 

 N: Aw, that’s not good :( I’m sorry! I’m at Ash’s and everyone says to get better!

N: Let me know if you need anything! Love you <3

R: thx but strep is contagious, i don’t want you catching it 

N: That doesn’t mean I can’t drop something off at your house :)

Ricky smiled softly.  He was so excited for auditions when Miss Jenn announced it. Though, he would’ve preferred HSM 2. He was more prepared for that, anyway. However, since he auditioned and was the lead for High School Musical, he really enjoyed singing and dancing - and now it was being taken from him. 

Well, I guess that’s what he got for trying to miss his Math test. 

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

Lullabies

A bad mission leaves you unable to sleep. Luckily, you’re not the only one awake in the compound.

-

           “Alright, I’m out!” You said loudly, standing up from the couch. The others in the room, Nat, Clint, and Wanda, were all arguing over an episode of Forensic Files. They all acknowledged you as you stood up. Tonight was their intervention, after all. It was the first time you’d been social since the big mission incident happened.

           “Promise me you’ll sleep tonight!” Nat called out. You walked into the kitchen, not expecting to see Steve filling up his gigantic water bottle. He was a friend, a good one, but you hadn’t spoken much since it happened. You just felt like you let him down, and it was the last thing you wanted to do.

           You’d been on your own until Tony, your dad’s best friend from childhood, took you in, gave you a serum when your heart threatened to be the cause of your death, and gave you a kickass suit to go with it. And then you were almost an Avenger, but not quite. You were grateful, really – it gave you some of the best friends you’d ever had. Nat was like a mom to you, and Tony was the closest thing you had to a father. You’d been there for six months until the dreaded mission last week.

           You’d been the only survivor out of your team of five. You’d been tortured, in every way possible. You were so shaken up that you barely slept for the past week. The bruises weren’t fading. Neither were the memories, and it left you completely unable to sleep, much less do anything but lay in bed and feel guilty for surviving. Nat had finally drawn you out of your room with Chinese food and everyone else had joined until you were all arguing over the ICBY murders.

           “Good night, Y/n,” Steve said with a little smile. His smiles were always warm. He was sweet – you considered him a friend, even though most of your conversations were light-hearted.

           “Good night, Steve,” you replied with a smile. You walked into your room and got in bed. And you tried to sleep. This time, for whatever reason, it came. Maybe it was because you could hear everyone else in the living room and it was comforting. It helped you to understand that you weren’t alone anymore.

           Sleep paralysis had been taking over every time you closed your eyes, and this time was no exception. Tonight it was the bad guy, staring down at you with a gun in one hand and gauntlet in the other. And you tried to scream for anyone who was awake still, it was so real and you couldn’t move your body, but nobody came. Maybe it was because it was late. Maybe it was because you weren’t really screaming, but you couldn’t take it. You woke up gasping, your throat sore, tears streaming down your face. It felt like you were being strangled again. You turned your body toward the air conditioner to get a clear breath.

           “Shit,” you murmured. It was 2:26 AM. You felt like you were suffocating, and without even taking your phone, you slipped out of your room and let it lock behind you. The hallway was dark, the only lights coming from the floor-to ceiling windowed view of the city, and it was calming. It was cool, too, Tony always kept the building freezing cold. One of the back lights in the kitchen was on, and you sighed. There was only one thing that could make you feel better. When you were a kid your mother always made chocolate chip cookies when you were upset. She’d hand them over to you, warm and gooey, and you would eat as many as you could until it knocked you out.

           So you got a pan out as quietly as you could and searched in the fridge until you found your secret stash of cookies. You resisted to eat the dough and set them on the pan, heating the oven and setting them in. You always took them out before they were done anyway, so it didn’t matter.

           “FRIDAY, play the Office in the living room and set a timer for cookies.” The corner of the room glowed in response.

           “Hey!” A familiar New York accent knocked you out of your daze as you heard the theme song start playing. It was Steve. You quickly ran in.

           “I’m sorry!” You exclaimed. “I had no idea anyone was in here, I thought everyone was asleep.” He was half asleep, still, but he smiled.

           “I did too,” he answered dryly.

           “No, I’m sorry. What were you watching?” You took a seat on the couch, all the way across from Steve.

           “Honestly? 60 Minutes.” You let out a laugh.

           “Of course you would, old man.”

           “I’m not that old.”

           “You’re a hundred years old.”

           “I’m not!” He tried to say. But he sighed. “What are we watching?”

           “The Office. Everyone in my generation thinks it’s comedic gold. I do, too. It makes me feel better when sleep paralysis wakes me up.” You were freezing. You wish you had taken a blanket with you, or grabbed the one that was sitting by Steve. Steve could see that you were cold, too. He could see the chill bumps on your skin in the dark. He could see the dried tears on your face and decided he should probably have a little more conversation with you before bringing that up.

           “So, uh, what’s it about?”

           “An office.” Steve chuckled at how dumb he was.

           “Yeah, I should’ve realized that.”

           “It’s about a paper company. You might hate it. It’s weird humor, honestly.”

           “Yeah, well, I might like it too.” He grinned. Whenever he did that, you couldn’t help but do the same. It was contagious. His optimism, even after everything, and his faith in the world made you want to be more like him. And he and Bucky were the only ones who could possibly know what you went through with the serum. Not to mention he was gorgeous. He had the perfect hair, perfect teeth. He was twice your size and for some reason you wanted him to crush you. He was a giant teddy bear. He was a sweetheart, but he always said what was on his mind. He wouldn’t lie to you. He had no reason to.

           “Y/n,” FRIDAY caught your attention, “your cookies are almost done.” You jumped a little bit. Steve must have noticed how jumpy you were, and it made him a little upset. Why didn’t you feel safe?

           “Cookies?” He asked. You got up – the oven had an auto shut-off for when they were done, and by the time you got over there you just grabbed a random dish towel to take them out of the oven with. You slid them onto a paper plate, took paper towels as napkins, and brought them back to the living room.

           “Did you wake up in the middle of the night to make cookies?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. He sat up slightly, motioning for you to sit beside him. You were a little nervous, just because he was him, even though you’d done it in countless meetings or when everyone was piled into the room. But this was different. You were alone.

           “No,” you admitted. “My mom used to make them whenever I woke up in the middle of the night. I used to have really bad nightmares.”

           “Did, or still do?” It slipped out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying. “Sorry.” You took a cookie from the plate and started eating. They were the most comfort you had in a long time. Or maybe it was Steve, or a mix of both.

           “Still do. I just can’t go back to sleep after,” you answered. “You can have one.” He smiled and took one from the top of the plate.

           “I can’t either. Back before I went into the ice they never really had a word for how you felt when you’d come back from war or a car accident or anything you felt like you shouldn’t survive. Now they do, and it’s almost as bad as not having a word at all.”

           “I’m used to it now. It just makes me mad that it affected me this much.”

           “Yeah, it does me too. But you know, kid, my door’s always open. You can always come talk to me. I get it.”

           “We’re talking now, aren’t we?” You eyed the blanket. Even with the warm cookies you were eating, you still felt cold. “Can you hand me the blanket?”

           “Yeah, of course.” He passed you the fluffy blue blanket that you were pretty sure Clint had brought in and never taken back. You wrapped it over yourself, leaning back on the couch. “I don’t know what you went through back there, but…”

           “I haven’t even told Tony. The only people that know are me and Fury and Nat.” Steve nodded, looking down.

           “Why not?”

           “Because that makes it feel real.” Thinking about that night just made your skin crawl and it made you almost start crying. “Everyone wants to know and if I tell them then they’ll just feel sorry for me. I set myself up for that, for all of this. I told them I could handle it, but…”

           “You’re handling it,” he interrupted. “Trust me. TV and cookies is way better than the way I used to handle things.” You sighed.

           “I’m sorry I’m dumping on you. And I changed your TV. You probably came out here to be alone and I just…”

            “Shut up, Y/n. I like spending time with you. And I like that you brought me cookies when you didn’t have to share them. I’m glad I’m not the only one awake in the middle of the night.” You felt a little better. He wouldn’t lie to you. He wasn’t like that. What you wanted, more than anything, was just to curl up next to him. You needed human contact and suddenly you needed him. You realized that you didn’t feel safe because of the cookies or the TV. You felt safe because Steve was there.

           “Do you come out here every night?” You asked, trying to change the subject a little.

           “Pretty much. Sometimes I’ll go to the gym. But sitting here feels much better than punching things. Sitting with you, I should say.” He gave you a small smile, hoping that it would be returned.

           “You’re lying.”

           “No. I’m not. Can I tell you somethin’?” You nodded. “When they said there was only one survivor, I was hoping it was you. Not that I wanted everyone to die, I just… I couldn’t take seeing you, dead, because you don’t deserve that. And I didn’t want to not get the chance to tell you how I feel about you. Even if it is kinda stupid.”

           “What do you mean?” You couldn’t see very much in the darkness of the room, since the credits were playing, but you could see a faint look of something in his eyes that reminded you of home.

           “I mean I care about you. More than I should. It’s dangerous, I know that. It can get you killed, I know that. I don’t expect anything in return, especially not from you, but… I really like you. You’re smart and funny and you’re so good at what you do, even when it doesn’t look like it.”

           You sat up, throwing the blanket aside, and walked over to him. You were so close to him that you could smell his breath. Cookies. You wrapped your arms around him, nearly bursting into tears because of the sheer amount of time you’d gone without anyone saying they cared about you. You were happy because somebody cared about you this much.

           “I like you too,” you said. He hugged you tightly, so tightly that you thought you might burst even though you had the same amount of strength as he did. He rubbed your back up and down for a minute, sighing against you, and ran a hand through your hair.

          “I’m not worth cryin’ over, doll,” he pointed out.

           “I’m a crybaby.” He laughed softly. It was as warm and comforting and safe as the chocolate chip cookies you’d made. You finally let him go, even though it was only to cuddle up against him. You offered some of the blanket to him and he took it, leaning down. He eventually moved until you were right beside him, holding you so you wouldn’t fall off the couch.

           “So what do you say we get some coffee tomorrow morning?” He asked.

           “I’d like that.”

           “Good.” You must have fallen asleep with him, because you woke up the next morning in the same place, muscles sore, and the blanket had been kicked off of you. He woke up at the same time and just smiled down at you.

           “I should probably go take a shower. If you still want coffee, that is,” you said.

           “Yeah. I’ll meet you back here in an hour.” You pulled yourself away from him, standing up, and sighed. “I’ll put the cookies up, don’t worry about it.”

           “Thank you,” you responded. He smiled at you and started cleaning up the couch area. You walked into the hallway, about to head to your room, but lo and behold, Wanda was standing there with a grin on her face. “What?”

           “You spent the night with Steve. Didn’t you?” She asked.

           “Not like that. We just both fell asleep. And now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get ready for our date.”

           “You’re dating?”

           “Shh, not yet, just… We talked most of the night.” She smiled.

           “He’ll be good for you.” You scoffed and typed the code into the pad to get into your room. Once you did a fingerprint scan, the door flew open. You certainly hoped he would be good for you, because last night was the first time you’d slept in what felt like forever. He was a better lullaby than the chocolate chip cookies, that was for sure. 

A/N: I hope you like this! I loved writing it.