if you know you know

The opera house had a fairly large backstage area, and Qifrey had gotten lost back here before, but today it was easy to find his friend.

"hh'IRRHShieu!"

Qifrey frowned. When Olruggio had admitted over text earlier that he was going to have to perform tonight while sick with a cold, Qifrey hadn't known what to expect. But here was Olruggio standing in the wings, a blue-trimmed black handkerchief clutched one-handed to his face, eyes half-shut with anticipation as his breathing began to hitch, began to swell…

…and then, when the irritation should have tipped over into a sneeze, nothing. He sighed, cursing, and gave his nose a firm rub through the handkerchief before dropping his hand with a sniffle.

Qifrey stepped forward, making sure his wingtips made a soft patter against the floor so he didn't startle his friend. "Olly?"

Olruggio was thumbing at the corners of his eyes, but he turned at the sound of Qifrey's voice. "Qifrey."

His voice was a gravelly rasp, and Qifrey winced.

"Oh, you sound terrible."

Olruggio sniffled again, but by the sound of it, he was growing congested and losing the ability to deal with his irritated nose in that manner. He was squinting faintly behind his glasses, like he was working on a headache too. "Can't say I feel great," he admitted. "But I'll be all right."

"Will you?"

Olruggio shrugged. "'Ave to be. There are goin' to be people in those seats."

He was right, and Qifrey knew it — there was probably no cancelling the concert this close to its start. Qifrey bit his lip.

"I did bring you some medicine." He reached into the pockets of his long coat and produced a blister pack of Dayquil, a bag of cough drops, and a pack of travel tissues. "I didn't have time to pick up much, but I suppose it's better than nothing."

Olruggio looked faintly startled, and he seemed to be stumbling over what to say when his body made the decision for him, and he took a hurried step back from Qifrey to grasp his handkerchief securely in both hands and sneeze into it. "hhr'ESHHieu!"

"Bless you!"

"Snf. Thank you." Olruggio sniffled thickly, palming his handkerchief with something that looked like hesitation, then he turned his back to Qifrey and blew his nose quietly. There was something a bit ironic about the juxtaposition, of Olruggio dressed in formal wear and clearly trying to maintain some composure while also suffering through the complete indignity of a head cold. He wiped at his nose with another sniffle, his head sounding a little clearer this time. "An' thank you for bringin' me things."

"Of course." Qifrey's eye was sharp with concern. "I was worried about you. Am worried about you."

That seemed to fluster Olruggio, who ducked his head and dabbed the handkerchief beneath his nose again. Qifrey hoped he had several on hand; that one was certainly taking its fair share of abuse. "Don't need to be," Olruggio mumbled. "'S just a cold."

"You said you've had it for almost a week, though," Qifrey pressed. "Because you're not taking care of yourself. Will you promise me you'll try and get some rest after this? No late night practicing."

Olruggio barked a laugh, then folded over into his handkerchief as it turned into a coughing fit. Qifrey felt a flash of aching empathy.

"Get out of 'ere, Professor," Olruggio croaked fondly once he could breathe again. "Doors'll be openin' soon."

"Will they?" Qifrey checked his own watch, then made a face. "I'm sorry, I've kept you for too long."

"Not at all." Olruggio moved to the table where Qifrey had set the cold medicine and began to inspect the goods. "Just figured you might be wantin' to get to your seat. It's a good one."

A good one that Olruggio had specifically set aside for Qifrey as a comp ticket. They both smiled at that, gazes meeting in something soft and affectionate. But then Olruggio gave a sharp, irritated inhale, and he quickly turned away from Qifrey before lurching forward into his handkerchief with a powerful "hhHrIISHHoo!"

"Bless you." Qifrey's hand hovered, unsure, in the air between them. He wanted to touch Olruggio's shoulder in sympathy, to touch his cheek and to feel for fever, but he knew a dismissal when he heard one. He withdrew his hand and sighed instead. "Break a leg, old friend."

—

Olruggio was doing excellently, Qifrey thought from the audience an hour later, especially for someone who was as ill as he was. The first half of the performance was drawing to a close, and he'd only seen Olruggio turn towards his shoulder to sneeze once and cough twice. Most impressively, it hadn't interrupted his playing. He'd clearly practiced this piece enough times that it had sunk deep into his muscle memory, with sheet music hardly required anymore.

It was a beautiful performance. Qifrey was unfamiliar with the concerto, but the rich, full sound of the assembled orchestra was the perfect backing to Olruggio's nimble piano. He played with great éclat, with sparkling flair, and he was hypnotizing to watch as he bowed his head beneath the lights and his fingers flitted and danced across the keys. Qifrey's seat really was perfect, too; he made a mental note to treat Olruggio to breakfast or coffee in thanks the next time they went out.

He was back in his seat before the end of the intermission, and he pulled out his phone to send Olly a quick congratulatory text, though he knew he likely would not see it until after the show.

The intermission was supposed to be fifteen minutes, so when it dragged past twenty, Qifrey began to grow concerned. Who or what was holding up the show? What if Olruggio was too ill to perform the rest of the concert?

But then the lights flickered and began to dim, and he put aside his worries as the orchestra returned to the stage. Olruggio was the last out, and the audience gave him a warm welcome of applause as he took a bow and returned to the piano bench.

Qifrey frowned. Olruggio looked…well, he still looked great — he was stunningly handsome in formal wear, and it always warmed Qifrey's heart to see him wearing the golden lapel chain that Qifrey had gifted him — but to Qifrey's expert eye, he looked tired. His nose had also acquired a faint pink cast around the base of his nostrils, like he'd been blowing it repeatedly during the intermission. He was starting to look unmistakably ill, and it made Qifrey's heart tighten in his chest.

While he was thoroughly enjoying the performance, the end of the show could not come soon enough.

Olruggio only seemed to continue to fade as the concerto progressed; whatever fortitude he had stubbornly clung to during the first set seemed to have deserted him. There were even a few times where Qifrey could tell Olruggio had erred, when the backing of the orchestra grated against the melody coming from the piano, when the conductor glanced over with something like faint surprise. But Qifrey was a professional musician himself, and he knew the rest of the audience was not likely to have picked up on it, just as they were also unlikely to have picked up on how sick Olruggio was.

At long last, the concert drew to a close, and Olruggio took a weary final bow to cheers and a standing ovation from the audience. Qifrey too was applauding uproariously, though concern lurked heavy in his chest, and he was already counting the moments until he could slip backstage and check on his friend.

Olruggio's gaze was flitting across the audience, and as he straightened, it found Qifrey's, and the lines around his eyes seemed to soften.

"Excellent," Qifrey mouthed, beaming, and Olruggio gave him the tiniest of relieved nods before taking his leave from the stage.

—

It wasn't more than ten minutes later that Qifrey had successfully fought through the crowds leaving the opera house and then presented his ID to the venue security, who inspected it closely before letting him pass, but when he found Olruggio backstage in the green room, slumped over his knees with his head in his hands, the other man looked like he'd been there for hours.

"Oh, Olly," Qifrey fretted, one hand already drifting up to touch Olruggio's shoulder, then his forehead. He was definitely feverish now, with sweat beading on his brow, and he was beginning to look sallow beneath his olive skin.

Olruggio's fingers latched gently around his wrist, but instead of pulling Qifrey's hand away, he simply sat like that for a moment, holding onto him like an anchor in a storm. "Fucked that last bit up," he said after a breath, his wrecked voice grating against an obviously sore throat. He couldn't seem to look at Qifrey. "Can't believe it."

"I guarantee no one noticed," Qifrey tried to soothe him, his brows furrowing deeply in concern. "You played beautifully."

Olruggio released Qifrey's hand and turned away from him to direct a hoarse cough into his shoulder. His eyes were glassy and distant. "You're just sayin' that."

"I'm not," Qifrey said truthfully. "I swear it. But you are so ill, my friend. Did you take any of that medicine?"

"Couldn't be drugged up for the show," Olruggio murmured. "I'll take some later."

He wouldn't, Qifrey knew, unless there was someone there to remind him to. Olruggio was terrible at taking care of himself, and always had been; back in grad school when they had lived together, Qifrey had been absolutely astonished that the man had made it this far in life with the complete and utter disregard he showed for his own health and wellbeing.

"Come back to my place," Qifrey said instead, coaxing. "Just for the night. You're in no state to drive home, or to be alone. You can take a hot bath and some cold medicine and then sleep as long as you'd like."

Olruggio turned away from him to sneeze heavily into the crook of his arm. "HIHZZHshuu!" It looked like it dazed him, like he had to wait for his surroundings to settle, but after a moment he felt in his pocket for his handkerchief and wiped it beneath his nose. "I don't want to be a burden," he said finally, but he sounded like he was wavering. He was too tired and sick to be able to turn down an ask like this one.

"Bless you. And I swear you wouldn't be." Qifrey tried another angle. "You know I wouldn't offer if I didn't mean it."

Olruggio's expression took on the faint, distant cast that meant another sneeze was incoming, and Qifrey waited until after he had folded forward into his handkerchief again — "hh'IESHZHieu!" "Bless you." — to kneel in front of him so they were on the same level.

"Olly," he breathed. Olruggio still wouldn't meet his gaze, so Qifrey reached out and touched him gently beneath his chin, lifting his face so their eyes met. It was unexpected enough that Olruggio couldn't deflect. "Please let me take care of you."

There was a beat as Olruggio fought with himself, while his pride and his yearning for comfort seemed to war within, until he deflated with a sigh that rattled in his chest and made him cough again. "…Fine. Let me go 'nd change."

—

"I'm goin' to get you sick," Olruggio groused from the passenger seat of Qifrey's car. He had just had yet another sneeze and was stuffing his handkerchief back into his pocket. Qifrey thought wryly that it would be better for him to keep it in hand with the rate things were going.

"I've already had what's been going around, thanks to my students," Qifrey said. He only lived fifteen minutes from the opera house, but Olruggio seemed moments away from falling asleep where he was huddled in the seat.

Something about that statement got Olruggio's attention, however. "When?"

Qifrey shrugged. "Two weeks ago?"

Olruggio shifted. "Sorry. I would've brought you some soup or somethin', 'ad I known."

The words prickled across Qifrey's skin like a sunburn, and he forced himself to smile, though his hands tightened on the steering wheel. "There was no need. You seem to have it far worse than I did."

"Still."

Qifrey let that remark go and tried to focus on the road, though his attention remained half on monitoring Olruggio's rasping, whistling breaths on his right. It just sounded like congestion, he decided, though if Olruggio wasn't careful, he'd give himself bronchitis, which had happened a handful of times in the years they'd known each other. Olly's colds tended to linger in his head most of the time, but the occasional winter bug would settle in his lungs and leave him coughing for weeks.

This one could almost be a mix of both, though the coughing was likely more post-nasal drip than true chest congestion. Qifrey had been plagued by a rough and scratchy throat of his own when he'd had this cold, as well as the heavy, extended fits of sneezes that Olruggio was in the thick of.

Speaking of which.

"God hhhdamn it," Olruggio said breathily, and Qifrey's attention flicked to the right to see him rush, and fail, to pull his handkerchief from his pocket in time for the sneeze that appeared to have snuck up on him. He caught it instead in the shirtsleeve of his oxford. "hrR'ISCHZhuu! hhh — hih — IESCHHoo!"

"Bless you, and bless you," Qifrey said.

Olruggio sniffled. "Thank you," he said quietly, wearily, like each sneeze was taking more and more out of him. "You know you don't 'ave to keep doin' that."

"Would you prefer that I stop?"

"…No, 's fine."

—

Qifrey's flat was more humble than Olruggio's, as he was working with salary of a music teacher instead of a concert pianist, but he liked to think that it was cozy and welcoming. Olruggio, at least, seemed to always feel at home here; they spent enough time at each others' places too that they both comfortably knew their ways around.

"Medicine, then bath and bed," Qifrey reminded Olruggio once they'd climbed the stairs and let themselves in to the front hall. The single flight of stairs had left Olruggio coughing into the crook of his arm, and Qifrey wincing. "There should still be plenty left over from when I was ill, it's all in the bathroom cabinet." They had left Qifrey's purchases at the opera house - minus the tissues, which Olruggio had snagged - since Olruggio had another performance there tomorrow night. Qifrey hoped that 24 solid hours of rest and TLC would be enough for Olruggio to start to shake his cold, or if not, that he would cancel the show.

"Yes, Professor," Olruggio said dryly, but the sarcasm was tempered by the hoarse and thready quality of his voice.

Qifrey rolled his eye with the start of a smile. "Get out of here." Olruggio obeyed.

Qifrey's bathtub was the crown jewel of his place: a beautiful, deep, claw-footed tub that was his savior whenever he got his migraines. He swore at times that it had healing powers, which hopefully it would produce for his friend.

Meanwhile, he went to his refrigerator to see what sort of soup ingredients he had on hand. The kitchen was generally well-stocked, but it had been a busy week of catching back up with students after his own illness, and he wasn't quite sure where his stocks of certain items stood. Thankfully, it looked like he had enough to make some chicken-lemon-vegetable soup, so he got out the celery and began to dice it.

He could hear Olruggio moving around in the other room, could hear the cabinets opening and closing, and moreso could hear the other man coughing and sneezing. "HR'IESCH'ieu! HPPTcxhhu!"

The sneezes seemed to be coming in pairs now, like a single one alone wasn't enough to scratch the itch that had settled into Olruggio's sinuses. Olruggio had begun to try and stifle the second one too, which Qifrey knew couldn't be helping his headache.

Bless you, he thought in his direction, then returned to peeling carrots.

Caring for Olruggio was as easy and natural as breathing. Qifrey was only glad that in recent years the other man had begun to let him. Olruggio had spent the entirety of his life pouring his heart and soul into providing for others, to make himself worthy of love by being "useful," but having the vulnerability and trust in another to let the favor be repaid in kind was something that had taken time, even though they'd known each other for fifteen years at this point.

But Qifrey…well, he still felt deeply uncomfortable receiving much targeted affection or positive attention from Olruggio. It made him nauseous, like there was a hole somewhere deep in his chest that would forever lie empty, a missing space that made him unworthy of that warmth from the sky's kindest, most radiant star.

He nicked the side of his finger with the paring knife, breaking his focus on the maudlin fog beginning to settle over him, and he swore under his breath, then immediately put his finger to his mouth. Ouch. That would teach him to brood while he was cutting vegetables.

"IESCHHoo! hh'czchhuu!

A productive nose-blow and a watery sniffle from the other room, then the sound of running water. Qifrey hoped Olruggio could finally relax for a bit; he'd likely been tense and wound up about his performance all week. The bathtub would work its magic, and there would be a hot bowl of soup waiting for him, and then he could crash for ten to twelve hours and hopefully wake up less miserably ill. It was a winning combination that Qifrey had used many times, both on Olruggio when they'd lived together and on himself. He had half a mind to check after a while to be sure Olruggio didn't doze off in the bath, in his current state.

But about half an hour later, by the time the soup was simmering, Qifrey heard the water begin to drain. He moved to the cabinet and got out some dishes, then filled his tea kettle with water and set it to boil. Having some tea on hand couldn't hurt either.

He was ladling the soup into the bowls when the bathroom door opened again with a rush of humid air, and also one Olruggio. He was pink-cheeked from the warm bath, and his dark hair was damp and stringy at the edges.

"Soup's ready," Qifrey said cheerfully, and Olruggio rubbed the heel of his hand over his eyes with a squint and a series of blinks.

"You made soup," he said blankly, like his mind was still catching up with his vision. To be fair, Qifrey noticed, he also wasn't wearing his glasses.

"I did. Tea should be ready soon too."

"Y'didn't 'ave to," Olruggio said roughly. He was clutching the box of tissues that Qifrey had bought (now at least half-empty) like it was a beloved possession, which appeared to be for the best when his nose gave a distinct twitch and he had to hurriedly grasp for a sheet. "hhHrIISHHoo!"

"Bless you! How are you feeling?" Qifrey settled in one of his kitchen chairs and gestured for Olruggio to do the same. Olruggio did so, sniffling.

"All right," he said vaguely, then gave his nose another irritated wriggle. "I can breathe now, 't least. Headache's gone too."

"That tub works miracles on headaches," Qifrey said. "I'm so glad. The soup," he added when Olruggio took a spoonful, "is chicken with lemon and vegetables. Another quality cure for a cold."

Olruggio tasted the first bit, and his eyes widened. "It's very good."

Qifrey preened. He'd spent the bulk of their graduate student years trying new recipes on Olruggio, but it was always a delight to get him to make that face. "I'm glad you think so."

They chatted for a bit over dinner, mostly Qifrey telling Olruggio about the upcoming recital his students were preparing for, as well as updating him on their progress.

"I'm still workin' on that duet for Agott and Coco," Olruggio said. He took another tissue from the box in his lap and blew his nose delicately. The steam from the soup and tea also seemed to be helping him breathe better, though his nose appeared to be running now instead. "I know Coco isn't quite up to Agott's skill level yet, but she plays so cleverly, I'm goin' to see what it's like if I give 'er the melody."

"Wonderful." Qifrey rested his chin on his folded hands. "They'll be delighted to hear an update. Thank you again for doing that."

Olruggio shrugged. "'f course. I'm lookin' forward to hearin' the others at the recital too."

Olruggio had never taken students of his own, but he'd shown great interest in Qifrey's current roster, particularly the three girls he'd been working with the longest and Coco, the newest of his students. It had been a surprise to all of them when he'd offered to compose some pieces on their behalf.

"It will be a great honor for them to get to debut your work," Qifrey said. "They're really quite excited about it."

Olruggio coughed into his fist. "It's nothin'," he said. "Any time."

He was starting to look exhausted again, rubbing at his eyes and drooping like a plant in need of water, and Qifrey decided to take pity on him. He stood and took the two bowls away, leaving the mugs with tea.

"Give me a moment and I'll have the couch set up for you."

Olruggio pulled yet another tissue from the box — it was running quite low; Qifrey wasn't sure if he had others on hand or if he'd need to run to the pharmacy again while Olruggio was sleeping — and held it between tented hands as he bent forward to sneeze into it. "hh'IRHShieu! R'ISCHZhuu!"

"Bless you."

"Thank you." Olruggio scrubbed at his nose through the tissue and sniffled roughly. "An' thank you again for…ya know. Lettin' me crash 'ere."

"Any time. Truly," Qifrey said seriously, making sure Olruggio met his eye. "My home is yours, as well."

It didn't take Olruggio long to fall asleep once he'd nestled into the blankets Qifrey had laid out on his couch. Qifrey could hear him snoring congestedly, and he smiled.

Can't believe he's not waking himself up with all that racket, he thought, trying to clean up the kitchen as quietly as possible. Thankfully it seemed that Olruggio in this state could sleep through just about anything. He snored on while Qifrey put away the leftovers, then retreated to his bedroom to start his own nightly routine.

Qifrey did not sleep well, as a rule; it had always been a struggle. Things had been better when he'd lived with Olruggio, but in the years since, he'd grown used to lying awake for hours or waking up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, or on some nights not sleeping at all.

He felt tonight might be another one of those nights, with Olruggio snoring and occasionally coughing, but for whatever reason, he fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. He slept deeply, unburdened by nightmares, and when he woke the next morning, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so well-rested.

Qifrey felt like he was dying. He was well aware he wasn’t actually, this was a mild flu at worst, but yet here he was. It didn’t help that he’d spent the whole week nursing his darling apprentices back to health from whatever monstrosity of a flu they picked up in Kalhn. They had bounced back rather quickly. However their master had not been so lucky. Even worse than that, a few days before everything went to shit Olruggio had left on a work trip, some pompous noble no doubt who wanted some truly impossible contraption, Olruggio would hopefully be home soon though.

Qifrey soon starts to drag his aching body out of his bed, regardless of how miserable he may feel in the moment he needed to get up to feed the girls. Before he can put on his glasses to dim the light a stray beam of light hits him square in the eye. “Oh….Ih….Eh…..It’stiew! I’shiew! Hap’tcht!” Qifrey sneezes into his sleeve, eventually switching to pinching his nose between his thumb and pointer finger to stifle. He often found his sneezes were too strong to stifle hands free when he was feeling ill, even if it was endlessly more embarrassing to need to bring his hands to his face.

He feels around his bedside aimlessly for his handkerchief, knowing he had left a mess of snot in his hands from forcefully stifling his sneezes. He would open his eyes to look for his hanky, but he’d rather not see the aforementioned mess.

“Olruggio would though.” Qifrey thinks to himself. Olruggio had always had a thing for Qifrey’s ever sensitive nose. Qifrey never saw the appeal but he was pretty much always happy to indulge his…whatever he and Olruggio were, Friends…lovers….something in between?

After cleaning himself up as best he can with his hanky, running some water over his hand with the vapor bubble, and putting on his heavier set of robes (He found himself absolutely freezing in his atelier at the moment) he slowly made his way down to the kitchen to at least get some breakfast going for the girls. He’d inevitably tell them to study on their own for the day, and then try to get some rest on the couch. He found that if he just stayed in his room all day, the girls would begin to worry; and he didn’t want them to worry needlessly over their master.

Breakfast went smooth enough, even if he excused himself 3 times to the washroom to be able to blow his poor dripping nose in peace. Soon the girls were studying away in their rooms, leaving Qifrey curled up on the couch like an overgrown Brushbug.

“Hih’shiew! Eh’tiew! Hmptch! Id’ntch!” Qifrey quickly shoves his still lightly soiled handkerchief to his face, pinching his nose shut as best he can after the first two as to not alert anyone to his suffering.

“Well, Don’ you look like the picture of health.” Olruggio notes as he walks into the living room, pulling off his pointed cap and putting it under his arm.

“No need to fuss. Snrrk.” Qifrey tries to assure his definitely not lover (He wanted him to be his lover), but the productive sniffle leaves his face feeling red hot from embarrassment.

“Your nose sounds like it’d beg to differ.” Olruggio notes with a smirk. Olruggio sits on the side of the couch where Qifrey was resting his head and pulls Qifrey into his arms.

“You're warm.” Olruggio notes softly, brushes some hair away from Qifrey’s nose. He knew that it would set Qifrey off on the best of days, let alone now.

“I figured as much.” Qifrey admits softly as he rubs at his nose, a bad habit he knew but his nose kept getting so damned itchy.

“We should go to the doctor for some medicine.” Olruggio suggests, but makes no effort to get up.

“No need, the girl’s recovered without medicine, I should be fine.” Qifrey tried to insist, rubbing his now pink nose on his sleeve.

“Are we going to leave out the bit that not only do kids recover quickly, but they actually have proper sleep schedules-” Olruggio tries to point out but is quickly interrupted by Qifrey losing the battle against his itchy, stuffy nose.

“Id’tch! H’dtch! It’tshtch!!” Qifrey stifles into his arm, pressing his face so far into his sleeve Olruggio can almost see the small bits of snot forcing itself out the corners of his nostrils.

“You’re gunna sneeze your’ brains out your’ ears if you keep holdin’ ‘em in like tha’” Olruggio chides Qifrey as he carefully pulls the white haired man’s sleeve away from his face and replaces it with a carefully folded handkerchief.

“Olly! hih…hih-Olly! Olly- Hia’Shiew! Ia’tshiew! Hap’shiew! Eh’tsshiew!” Qifrey’s nose practically explodes into Olruggio’s hand. Qifrey finds himself sneezing so hard his knees pulled subconsciously to his chest. His nose was now running like a leaky tap and he was left gasping for breath.

“Bless. You wouldn’t be so out of breath if you’d just sneeze normally in the firs’ place.” Olruggio chides as he cleans up Qifrey. He knows Qifrey can be embarrassed when his sneezes get rather messy and audible, but there was something about seeing the other man so desperate and vulnerable that made Olruggio feel a little warm inside, and perhaps in other places.

“They’re so loud though, I find myself a tad reluctant to just sneeze openly where I might worry the girls, Snrrk snrrrkkk.” Qifrey admits as he tries to sniffle back some of the mess leaking from his sinuses, before ultimately giving up letting loose a long gurgling blow into the handkerchief he now has stolen from Olruggio.

“Please, Qif, You sneeze a handful of times in the mornin’ on a good day.” Olruggio reminds him, rubbing Qifrey’s back as he waits for the other man to finish tending to his nose.

Qifrey rolled his eyes but declined to respond.

After some time lounging on the couch, just enjoying being with each other, Olruggio looked down at the dozing man in his lap. “We really should get ya ta bed.” Olruggio notes softly, watching Qifrey scrunch his nose and press his sleeve into it, “Or maybe some tea firs’?”

“Perhaps that would be best, though I will admit I should probably lie down.” Qifrey admits softly before pulling out his handkerchief for yet another long gurgling nose blow.

“Oh, so now ya admit it.” Olruggio jokes as he pulls Qifrey up and off the couch.

The two men sit in the kitchen, Qifrey slowly sipping on a mix of Tranquil Leaf and and Rocklodge Ginger tea, he was grateful he still had some of the ginger on hand from when the girls were ill. Olruggio had his own tea but it was just Thornbark teawith a lot of honeytree nectar.

“How are ya actually feeli’, Qifrey?” Olruggio asks, leveling his gaze on the other man.

“Bloody awful, woke up late this morning and barely even had food ready for the girls when they woke up.” Qifrey admits softly.

“Aye, had a feelin’ when I saw you all curled up like an overgrown- Oh? Need ta sneeze again do ya?” Olruggio teases, watching as Qifrey hitches, fanning his face with a slender hand.

“Pe…hih!...perhaps.” Qifrey admits as he scrounges for his hanky in his robes “feel like I-....hih…ihhh…Hip’stiew! …Ishiew! …..P’sshhiew! I’ashiew! Pardon me…I feel like I've been going at it all morning.” Qifrey then blows his nose again, blushing crimson when what leaves his nose sounds more like a strangled gurgle than a true blow “Pardon me, im terribly messy at the moment.” Qifrey mumbles out, closing his eyes in modification, not daring to move the soiled hanky away from his face yet.

“Non of tha’, Qifrey, you know I don’ mind.” Olruggio chides as he grabs a fresh hanky from his own stash for Qifrey. Qifrey somehow just found himself blushing harder.

“Olly…What are we?” Qifrey asks as he works expeditiously to clean himself up.

“Wha’ do ya’ mean, Qif?” Olruggio asks, putting a hand on the small of the others back, “Were whatever we want to be. No one from the great ‘all gets a say anymore”

Qifrey smiles as he leans into his boyfriend. Sure they had the girls to take care of, but Qifrey was pretty sure the girls had been trying to set them up for ages.

“Alrigh’ you disaster of a man, lets get you to bed.” Olruggio says as he puts the tea cups in the sink.

“I love you, Olly.” Qifrey admits softly.