Work Text:
Today was another day.
Stanley Uris had woken up at 9:30, before all of his alarms went off. It was the first time in a while that he hadn’t slept through them, which always ended in him regaining consciousness somewhere around noon. He considered it an accomplishment. Working from home gave him some leeway when it came to his sleep schedule, but sleeping late always made him feel like he’d wasted time he could have used to do something important. He was surprised to find that he wasn’t tired for the first time in what felt like years. Maybe it has been years , he thought to himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t been exhausted. This is amazing, He thought. Maybe I can actually get something done for once.
He still took a while to get out of bed, not used to being up this early. Stan relished the lack of a migraine born from oversleeping, enjoying the peace and quiet in the house. For the first time in a while, he didn’t feel the oily black depression that usually soaked him to the bone and didn’t come off no matter how hard he scrubbed. He was alone in the bed, he noticed. Bill must be at work, His mind offered before he started panicking over his whereabouts. He’s safe, don’t worry.
So he didn’t worry. Instead, he crawled out of bed and shuffled over to the dresser, frowning at seeing how empty his drawers were. Glancing over at his overflowing hamper, he pulled on the cleanest shirt he owned and sighed. I should do the laundry, He mentally groaned, knowing that his subconscious was right. He remembered that Bill had gently mentioned it to him the other day, too. With a sigh, he hefted it up and carried it to the garage. Based on how many clothes he ended up having to stuff in the washing machine, it was a miracle he even remembered how to work the damn thing. It was nice in the garage, not too hot and not too cold, so he turned a laundry basket upside down and used it as a makeshift chair, sitting and waiting for his clothes.
When he put his clothes in the dryer, he took a minute to try and remember when he showered last. He couldn’t remember, he’d spent the last week holed up in their room with dark clouds in his mind. Wrinkling his nose, he grabbed a towel and made his way to the bathroom. He slowed to a stop when he began to pass the one in the hallway before backing up and peering inside. I haven’t used this one in a long time, Stan mused. The scraggly scars on his wrists itched and crawled.
For the first time in a year, he filled the tub with piping hot water. It was a new tub, and he couldn’t wait to try it out. Pouring in some lavender bath salts, he eased himself into the bathtub and sat there, as if waiting for something bad to happen. It was quiet, save for the distant noise of the dryer running. Steam filled the room despite the fact that he’d left the door open. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to close it yet. Pressing a button, he turned on the jets and let out a happy sigh. For a moment, he forgot about the world and slid a little deeper under the water. There was no trace of his suicide attempt anywhere in the bathroom, nothing but the memories in his head. Sighing, he let all of his thoughts go, allowing his mind to be blank for a few moments.
At the sound of the dryer beeping before turning off, he drained the tub and rinsed himself off with hot water that finished soothing his perpetually frayed nerves. Drying off with the fluffiest towel they owned, he practically sprinted to the garage. He dug around in the dryer and pulled out some comfortable clothes for the day, making a happy noise when he put them on. They were still nice and warm. Piling all the clothes in a laundry basket, he carried it back to their room and got started on folding them.
The task didn’t take him long, and it left him feeling accomplished. His computer made a noise, the one that meant he had an event on his calendar. Stan had come to realize that the only way he would remember important things was via reminders on his computer, and it had saved his ass on more than one occasion. It took him a moment to decide between working on his laptop so he could sit in their bed a bit longer or actually sitting and doing his work at the desk Bill had built for him. He made his choice and smiled to himself. Sitting at his desk, he moved the mouse around to awaken his computer. A bright red notification flashed on his calendar, telling him there was something important due for work today. Panic lanced through him before he came to realize he was nearly done with it already. Perfect, He thought, content with his past self. No need to stress over this.
He didn’t stress over it, but it did take him longer to work on it than he’d originally expected. Once he finished, he decided to get ahead on the rest of the week as well. It took a while, but maybe he was just more critical when he actually had the energy to give it his all. Despite that, it felt like no time at all before he heard the garage door and the familiar clinking of Bill tossing his keys down on the table. “Are you home?” He asked stupidly. Of course he was. Stan just wanted to hear his voice. There was no response other than the sound of Bill’s footsteps getting closer and closer.
“Y-you’re at your desk,” Bill said, pulling a chair over to sit next to him. “Did your laptop d-d-die?”
“No, I just felt like working here today,” The grin on Bill’s face made Stan’s heart soar, suddenly very thankful he hadn’t chosen to work on his laptop. “How was work?”
“Boring. The director still h-hates the ending,” Sighing, Bill shrugged. “I still don’t w-want to change it.”
“Then don’t. Find a way to make him like it instead.”
“Easier s-said than done.”
Reaching over, Stan gently cupped Bill’s face with his hand, studying him quietly. “You can do it, I know you can.”
“I’ll f-figure it out,” Putting his hand over Stan’s, Bill moved to kiss his palm. “You s-s-smell good.”
“Yeah,” He said cautiously. “I took a bath.”
Freezing, Bill visibly paled. “You did?”
Nodding his head, he stroked Bill’s cheek with his thumb. “It was nice. I put in some of those bath salts Eddie gave us.”
“It was nice?” Bill parroted.
“It was. Next time you should take one with me, it was relaxing,” Offering up a small smile, Stan saved and turned in his work for the day. “God knows you need to relax.”
“H-hey, I’m not that b-bad.”
“You’re definitely stressed, though,” Stan said, sounding almost as if he was scolding Bill. “You need to relax.”
“I g-guess,” Looking down, Bill’s shoulders sagged. He really was under a lot of pressure. Stan kicked himself for not noticing sooner.
“Hey, I’m kinda hungry, how about we go make dinner together. How does that sound?”
Face lighting up, Bill looked at him in wonder. “Really? Y-you’re hungry?”
“Yep,” Taking hold of Bill’s arm, he hefted them both up and began dragging Bill out of the room. “Let’s go!”
Bill giggled, honest to god giggled, happily following Stan to the kitchen. “What are w-we gonna make?”
“Does mac and cheese sound okay? Not the boxed kind, but actual mac and cheese.”
“I could go f-for some mac and cheese.”
They got to work, both of them knowing the recipe by heart. It had always been their favorite as kids, and Stan’s mom had always happily made it for them whenever he asked. It only made sense that they knew the recipe like an old friend, and they were determined to make sure it was passed on from generation to generation. It was a recipe that deserved to be immortal.
Stan did his part and Bill did his, both of them silently concentrating. It took all but five minutes before a tune wormed its way into Stan’s head, driving him crazy to the point where he couldn’t help but hum it and sway his hips along to the music. He hummed, hummed ‘till a smile made its way onto his face and he was dancing through the kitchen.
“Oh, Stan...” A small, choked voice said from behind him. Stan turned, worried. Bill stood, frozen in place with tears running down his cheeks. “Stan.”
“What? Bill, what’s wrong? Are you-” He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before Bill pulled him into a soft kiss, tearful and sweet. Stan couldn’t complain, it warmed him from head to toe, made his soul shine a little brighter.
Bill was smiling when they pulled apart, sniffling and wiping tears from his eyes. “Y-you stop singing when you’re sad. It’s been quiet for so l-long, Stan. You’re m-my songbird.”
Stanley’s heart filled to the brim and nearly burst. It was such a small thing, but to Bill, this was important. His singing was important, and Bill noticed it. Hell, Bill missed it.
There were so many things that had changed after his suicide attempt, and he knew that. He remembered Bill checking and bandaging his wrists when he was recovering, and he remembered how his eyes filled with tears that wouldn’t fall. Bill wouldn’t cry in front of him, trying his best to be strong for the both of them. Stan remembered that he couldn’t be trusted around sharp objects for months, but Bill was never obvious or mean about it. He never freaked out, even when he found Stan with a knife contemplatively pressed to his wrist, not putting enough pressure to wound, but definitely considering it. Bill just casually came over and plucked it from his hand, put it in the drawer, and walked them both back to the bedroom. He’d been nonchalant, but Stan still noticed how hard he was shaking afterwards.
There were the times that Stan couldn’t bring himself to get up from bed for days. That was when Bill would make soup and feed it to him, making sure he had something in his stomach, making sure he didn’t waste away into nothing at all. He remembered the days he would snap at Bill, being especially nasty in an attempt to isolate. Bill never let him, always taking the poison and tossing it away, instead responding with kindness and worry. He was never condescending, and he didn’t coddle Stan, but he sure as hell took care of him and put up with his shit like no one else would.
Bill had noticed the way Stan looked down at his feet whenever he saw the tub on his way to their room, so he’d gone out and gotten them a new one, bigger and better and with a distinct lack of blood stains. He’d made sure to include Stan in the buying process, making sure it was something he might use one day. He knew the day wouldn’t be anytime soon, but it would be one day. Stan remembered the relief that coursed through him when he saw the rust red tub being carried out, and he remembered realizing just how much he loved Bill. He remembered realizing that Bill loved him right back.
Bill had always noticed these things, and it never failed to surprise Stan. Knowing how much Bill loved him always made his heart clench.
“I love you,” Stan whispered, holding Bill tightly. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” Bill never stuttered when he said he loved Stan. Never. “Was today a better day?”
Stan stood silently for a moment, thinking back to everything he’d done, everything he’d accomplished. He’d woken up on time, his clothes were clean, he was clean and had even made it into the tub for the first time, his work was done for the week, and he was in the kitchen cooking with his fiance. He had been sitting at his desk, he’d folded his clothes, he’d made sure he got himself cleaned up all on his own, and now here he was, singing and dancing across the kitchen with his fiance.
“No,” Pressing a kiss to Bill’s forehead, he leaned back to smile at him. “Today was an amazing day.”