Headaches

Technically a rewrite of one of my first Steven and Alan stories. Steven gets a bad headache.

Steven slouched over on the table, burying his head in his arms. He has the worst headache he’s ever had, that might be an exaggeration, but it felt like it at least.

He thought about getting up, getting a cup of water, or some painkillers, but moving made it worse.

He was also cold. But getting his coat, again, means moving.

“You alright Steve?”

He heard a familiar voice say. He peaked up over his arms to see Alan stood in front of him, his head tilted to the side, looking concerned.

“Headache…” Steven mumbled, barely legibly.

He sat up slightly, but winced while doing so, as the pain suddenly got worse. Alan quickly slid next to him, putting a hand on his back.

Steven slumped back over, and shuffled closer to Alan.

“Can I help at all?”

“Painkillers.”

Alan nodded, and carefully got up to get a cup of water and quickly scavenged through his med bag to find some paracetamol.

He set them down gently in front of Steven.

Steven lifted his head up just enough to be able to drink the water, before flopping his

“You should lay down” Alan soothed, gently stroking his hair.

“Mh… Moving makes it worse.”

“Ah.” There was a pause, “I’ll carry you”

Before Steven could mumble a “What?” or a “No don’t do that you daft git, just let me die here”, He was scooped up bridal style.

Usually Steven would yelp, call him a twat, or do anything to put up a joke fight. But he didn’t, not this time. Instead he just curled up in Alan's arms.

Alan sat down, putting Steven on the couch next to him, his head on his lap. He took the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch and draped it over Steven, who pulled it over his head.

They stayed like this for about an hour, until the painkillers kicked in.

Sir Topham probably saw them, but if he did, he said nothing.