Back & Blessed

Mulder can’t decide what he’s most grateful for: the fact that Scully clearly feels safe enough to fall asleep against his arm not twenty-five yards away the house of a suspected serial killer  – and that she actually looks relaxed for once – or the fact that the cold medication she had forced into him has granted him the ability to breathe through his nose again.

It's a close tie, but right now, he’s leaning towards the latter. 

Clear sinuses, Mulder decides, are a divine biological privilege he vows never again to take for granted.

Only a few hours ago, Scully had stood toe-to-toe with him at the gas station, holding out two unnaturally-colored pills and a bottle of water. She’d been entirely unmoved by his argument that cold medicine would make him drowsy and/or unable to operate a vehicle.

“Non-drowsy, Mulder. Maybe if you could hear properly over the sound of your own breathing, you might have heard me clearly the first time.”

Maybe he should have listened to her sooner.

He feels wired. Focused. Wide awake. The house beyond the car windshield remains quiet and still, and every now and then Mulder’s gaze slips away to glance down at Scully, who has been sound asleep against his shoulder for the better part of the last hour.

One hand lays curled against her chin, the other resting slack against her lap. Her face is relaxed for what seems like the first time in days. Weeks, possibly. He knows she’s exhausted, and that is at least in part his fault. Maybe what he’s most grateful for is the fact she’s getting some rest in at all.

Mulder tests another long, luxurious breath through his nose, and as if in response, Scully gives a soft sigh in her sleep and nestles her cheek against his coat sleeve. Mulder smiles down at her and sniffles back a faint trickle of moisture. He'd never forgive himself if...

He sniffles again, just to be safe, and this one proves to be perhaps a little bit too ambitious. 

Mulder scrunches up his nose – hoping it will be enough to quell the tickle that immediately begins to bloom in his sinuses – an action which proves to be futile. The sensation only increases in intensity until his eyes begin to water, and he nudges the tip of his nose with his knuckle – once, twice – then presses a little firmer. 

Scully sleeps on, warm and trusting against him, the crease between her brows finally smoothed away by sleep. He’ll be damned if he’s the reason it returns so soon.

Mulder clamps his fingers around his nose, but the pressure only seems to drive it deeper and his chest begins to expand in a series of helpless, hitching inhalations. He holds on for another desperate second but the tickle only builds and builds. He releases his nose just in time to pitch forward into the sleeve of his left arm.

"HUH’UghhSHhuh!"

The sneeze tears out of him, throaty and raw despite his every attempt to muffle it, and Scully jolts upright, awakening with a startled cry. Her hand flies toward the holster tucked beneath her coat, but Mulder catches her hand with his.

“Easy,” he croaks. “It’s—” He turns aside again, unable to get the reassurance out, still holding onto her hand. “It’s—uhH'TSSCHhioo! …Ugh, sorry,” he mumbles damply into his sleeve. “I-I didn’t mean t-to…t-uhhh…huh…hh…”

Mulder face crumples. Again, he tries to fight it, eyes squeezed shut, shoulders squared, but another deep, helpless gasp escapes him.

"—HEHH’tTSSCHioo!"

He buries his nose into the crook of his elbow, and when he lifts his head with a thick sniffle, he finds his nose completely blocked again. All at once, his brief, beautiful respiratory freedom is gone. 

Well. It was nice while it lasted.

“B-bless you,” Scully exclaims, sounding breathless herself. “Bless you, Mulder.” She looks down and he follows her gaze as she carefully unclasps his hand from around her wrist. He hadn’t realized he was still grasping it.

“Sorry,” he mumbles

“It’s fine,” she replies, covering a yawn with the back of her hand and glancing at the dashboard clock. “I…didn’t mean to fall asleep. You should have woken me.”

Mulder smiles wryly. 

“I believe I just did.”

Scully gives him a faint little smile in return. It’s sleepy, unguarded, and one of his very favorites – and it only lasts a moment before she turns to peer through the window again. 

Reaching for the tissue box wedged into the center console, Mulder turns away as much as the cramped car allows and blows his nose. Unsuccessful in this endeavour, he groans quietly, and slumps back in his seat, closing his eyes. 

“Are you feeling any better?” Scully asks. “You still sound awfully congested.” 

He forgets to answer. His thoughts have drifted to the warm weight of her head against him, the soft sigh as she settled closer, as though she had found precisely the place she wanted to be.

“...Mulder?”

Scully’s small, cool hand settles against his forehead, and he hums a contented sigh before blinking open his eyes and rolling his head toward her. She’s already frowning again, all traces of sleep dissolved back into familiar concern.

“Mhmm,” he smiles. “S’okay, Scully. I’m good.”

For the first time in a long time, he means it.

“Hah’ESSCHHhuh! Hhh…heh…EHH’iKTSCHHIEW!”

“Buen día to you, too.”

One bleary, itchy eye opens. As if Agnes’ day couldn’t get any worse, Rio fucking Vidal is leaning against the door frame of her office wearing the knowing little smirk Agnes has wanted to slap off her face in at least four states and kiss off in exactly two.

Today she is decidedly in a slapping kind of mood.

“Oh, come on,” Agnes mutters, slumping back in her desk chair. She swipes beneath her raw, angry nose with the back of her hand and crosses her arms defensively. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Rio steps inside, entirely unbothered by the abrasive non-greeting. If anything, she looks pleased by it. Agnes’ jaw clenches as she takes in the sight of her in a black suit, badge clipped at her waist. 

“The van used to move your victim crossed the Pennsylvania line at approximately two-thirteen this morning,” Rio announces, tossing a folder on Agnes' desk. "That makes him ours.”

“Approximately two-thirteen?” Agnes scoffs. “That’s an awfully specific estimate, Agent.”

Rio shrugs, and steps closer just as Agnes reaches for another tissue from the box that’s occupied the place of honor at the center of her desk for the last several hours. She yanks out three and blows her nose into them louder than entirely necessary.

“Don’t come any closer,” she snaps, her voice muffled from behind the tissues. She forces a cough. “I’m sick.”

Rio hesitates. Her head tips slowly to one side as she gives Agnes a thoughtful once-over. She bites her lip briefly and Agnes can’t help flicking her gaze down at her mouth before she catches herself, cheeks burning as she forces herself to look away.

“No you’re not,” Rio replies matter-of-factly. “That’s your allergy voice.”

Agnes’ grip tightens angrily around the bundle of tissues.

“I don’t have a—”

“—You’ve been out in the field since seven,” Rio continues, sauntering further into the office. “No doubt barking orders at the search team while the pollen count in Westview crept higher and higher. And let me guess, you skipped your allergy medication because it makes you...foggy.”

Rio pauses and clicks her tongue, the sound soft, disapproving, and much too familiar. “You still haven’t learned, have you?”

Seething and caught, Agnes lowers the tissues and fixes Rio with damp, murderous eyes. 

“And you still think being observational passes for being charming.”

“Observation is work,” Rio tosses back. “The charm is purely recreational.”

Agnes opens her mouth, but the sharp retort forming on her tongue never makes it out. The prickling in her nose sharpens without warning – spreading hot, feathery and ferociously until it reaches somewhere deep and inevitable. Her upper lip twitches, and she crushes a fist beneath her nostrils in an attempt to bully the sensation back into submission.

It’s no use.

Rio looms over her, watching openly, infuriatingly calm, as Agnes’ breath hitches once, twice—

“Hihh-heh—! HEh’ISSCHiue!—HUH’ihhSCHHHiuh!” 

Both sneezes wrench through her in unreasonably rapid succession, folding her over her desk. Agnes stays there, eyes squeezed shut, fist pressed beneath her aching nose.

“Just the two?” Rio tuts. “Bless you, Detective.”

“I—” Agnes gasps, uncurling with a thick, damp sniffle. "Fuck you."

“We’re working a case together. That would be highly inappropriate....Detective.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Agnes scowls. “That was an insult, not an invitation.”

“I remember the difference. Do you?”

“—HAH’EIKSSCHHiue!”

Rio’s smirk only widens. 

“I thought that might be your answer.” 

“Hah’ESSCHHhuh! Hhh…heh…EHH’iKTSCHHIEW!”

“Buen día to you, too.”

One bleary, itchy eye opens. As if Agnes’ day couldn’t get any worse, Rio fucking Vidal is leaning against the door frame of her office wearing the knowing little smirk Agnes has wanted to slap off her face in at least four states and kiss off in exactly two.

Today she is decidedly in a slapping kind of mood.

“Oh, come on,” Agnes mutters, slumping back in her desk chair. She swipes beneath her raw, angry nose with the back of her hand and crosses her arms defensively. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Rio steps inside, entirely unbothered by the abrasive non-greeting. If anything, she looks pleased by it. Agnes’ jaw clenches as she takes in the sight of her in a black suit, badge clipped at her waist. 

“The van used to move your victim crossed the Pennsylvania line at approximately two-thirteen this morning,” Rio announces, tossing a folder on Agnes' desk. "That makes him ours.”

“Approximately two-thirteen?” Agnes scoffs. “That’s an awfully specific estimate, Agent.”

Rio shrugs, and steps closer just as Agnes reaches for another tissue from the box that’s occupied the place of honor at the center of her desk for the last several hours. She yanks out three and blows her nose into them louder than entirely necessary.

“Don’t come any closer,” she snaps, her voice muffled from behind the tissues. She forces a cough. “I’m sick.”

Rio hesitates. Her head tips slowly to one side as she gives Agnes a thoughtful once-over. She bites her lip briefly and Agnes can’t help flicking her gaze down at her mouth before she catches herself, cheeks burning as she forces herself to look away.

“No you’re not,” Rio replies matter-of-factly. “That’s your allergy voice.”

Agnes’ grip tightens angrily around the bundle of tissues.

“I don’t have a—”

“—You’ve been out in the field since seven,” Rio continues, sauntering further into the office. “No doubt barking orders at the search team while the pollen count in Westview crept higher and higher. And let me guess, you skipped your allergy medication because it makes you...foggy.”

Rio pauses and clicks her tongue, the sound soft, disapproving, and much too familiar. “You still haven’t learned, have you?”

Seething and caught, Agnes lowers the tissues and fixes Rio with damp, murderous eyes. 

“And you still think being observational passes for being charming.”

“Observation is work,” Rio tosses back. “The charm is purely recreational.”

Agnes opens her mouth, but the sharp retort forming on her tongue never makes it out. The prickling in her nose sharpens without warning – spreading hot, feathery and ferociously until it reaches somewhere deep and inevitable. Her upper lip twitches, and she crushes a fist beneath her nostrils in an attempt to bully the sensation back into submission.

It’s no use.

Rio looms over her, watching openly, infuriatingly calm, as Agnes’ breath hitches once, twice—

“Hihh-heh—! HEh’ISSCHiue!—HUH’ihhSCHHHiuh!” 

Both sneezes wrench through her in unreasonably rapid succession, folding her over her desk. Agnes stays there, eyes squeezed shut, fist pressed beneath her aching nose.

“Just the two?” Rio tuts. “Bless you, Detective.”

“I—” Agnes gasps, uncurling with a thick, damp sniffle. "Fuck you."

“We’re working a case together. That would be highly inappropriate....Detective.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Agnes scowls. “That was an insult, not an invitation.”

“I remember the difference. Do you?”

“—HAH’EIKSSCHHiue!”

Rio’s smirk only widens. 

“I thought that might be your answer.” 

🔮Salem-era Agatha🔮

3 things I like about her:

Her hunger for knowledge. Like, if you think about it, she was almost killed for basically just reading above grade level. She's a nerd whose self-preservation instincts are rivaled only by her curiosity and it makes her such an interesting character.

Speaking of self-preservation, I love that she's resilient and scrappy and always looking out for herself for better or worse (usually worse lol).

Is it too much of a cop-out to say just look at her?

Like she's already so gorgeous and I am not immune to a good period costume 🤤🫠

a few more than 3 snz-related headcanons:

She does own proper handkerchiefs, she swears, but she can’t really be bothered with them most of the time. Especially when she’s busy with her spellwork or engrossed in a new book, it’s much easier to just use her hand or sleeve or even the hem of a skirt or cloak to catch an errant sneeze, or try to scrub a runny nose or watery eyes into submission.

She gets so self-conscious about the way she sounds when she’s really congested. She hates not sounding like herself and not being able to pronounce words correctly (especially when it messes with her spellwork) and goes out of her way to try to avoid ‘m’s and ‘n’s at all costs (until she starts getting too tired or feeling too miserable. this is sometimes as close as she will get to admitting that she's sick.)

She gets summer colds with frankly insulting regularity. She gets a few weeks of peace after the worst of her spring allergies have tapered off only for a cold to knock her right back down again.

Speaking of getting sick, her favorite blanket when she's feeling unwell is Rio's green cloak. While she usually leaves it hanging by the door as a visual reminder that Rio will be coming back to her, when she's sick, she'll wrap herself up in it in bed, surrounding herself with as much of Rio as she can while wishing she had the real thing with her. +(After everything goes to shit, Agatha will sometimes wake up after a fever dream with that same cloak draped over her. She hates how much it still brings her comfort, and she always leaves it behind when she's feeling well enough to move on, but Rio never stops leaving it for her)

Her seasonal allergies are a recent development and though it pisses her off to no end, she’s still very academic about it. She keeps track of patterns and specific triggers to avoid, even down to which plants really make her sneeze vs ones that just leave her itchy, stuffed up, and unsatisfied (and later on, which ones evoke the best reactions from Rio 😏)

Two words: pregnancy rhinitis. 🤭🔥

3 snzarios/prompts/ideas/whatever:

The first time Agatha gets sick around Rio. Woman who’s literally never had anyone care about her wellbeing before + cosmic entity who’s never taken care of a sick human (which then leads to the inverse where Rio learns that her human form is not entirely immune to things like the common cold, especially when she's basically all over Agatha 24/7 🤭)

When she and Rio are tentatively starting to woo each other (after quite a few instances of wild post-siphoning sex, of course), Rio starts trying to pick up human courting techniques including bringing Agatha bouquets of flowers or even flower crowns she’s made for the solstice or another fair-weather festival. Using flowers that she doesn’t know Agatha’s allergic to. Oops. (Bonus points if Rio has no idea that this could happen and is torn between enjoying it and stressing about how fragile humans are (a sentiment which Agatha would very much like to protest…when she’s not so busy proving Rio’s point.))

 Obligatory ‘accidentally siphoning a cold’ scenario. Just the thought of being perfectly fine one second and then getting bowled over by a sudden onset of, like, day 3 of a nasty cold is so delicious 😈

🌟Peggy Carter🌟 (thank you for this one!! truly one of my most beloveds of all time and i loved having an excuse to think about her again lol 🥰)

3 things I like about her:

Her fighting style. I LOVE that her MO is to grab the heaviest object she can and just hit men with it until they fall over. She’s a brawler, she’s resourceful, she's iconic, and she does it all with jazzy music playing in the background and it's always entertaining to watch.

Her heart. Despite being more than capable of looking after herself and being aware that her work can put the people she loves in harm's way, she never stops loving people (or even puts that much effort into pushing people away; the one "fight" she has with Angie lasts for a single episode before she's apologizing in her own way) Idk if this is making a lot of sense, but I think her character is really nuanced and I love her.

FIRST WLW KISS IN THE MAINLINE MCU!! To quote the pinned post on my main:

❤️ honorable mention to Bésame 1946 Red Velvet lipstick for being a fucking game changer and remaining a staple in my vanity over a decade later

3(ish) snz-related headcanons:

Stress colds!!! 🫠 Any time she pushes herself too hard for too long she’s liable to come down with something the second she has a chance to relax. It’s so predictable that Angie picks up on the pattern after, like, the third time it happens, but somehow Peggy is always very surprised Pikachu face about it.

She's very stiff-upper-lip about being sick. She'll deny as long as she can get away with it (and longer if she's at work or in the field), but even after she reaches the point of honesty, she’ll downplay it as much as she can. She doesn’t like being fussed over, but she enjoys a little bit of gentle caretaking and she will get downright cuddly when she’s feeling miserable enough 🥹

She tends to sneeze in really long, drawn out fits. I don’t think she has a set number, but it’s usually at least 5-7 (more if something’s setting off her allergies) with like 30 seconds to a minute of pure nasal torture in between each one that she will still try to talk or work through even though it’s clearly a lost cause. She always finishes with a rapid-fire double or triple though and a heavy sigh of relief.

After much consideration I am bestowing unto Angie Martinelli a latent sneeze kink that makes itself known when she sees Peggy sneeze for the first time. They’re in the middle of a conversation at the automat bar, and Peggy’s breathy, stuttering voice as she tries to keep up between sneezes is enough to nearly take her lesbian ass out.

3 snzarios/prompts/ideas/whatever:

“Howard [Stark] wanted to create a cure for the common cold. He came up with a compound that brings on intense symptoms in minutes.” - That is a direct quote from episode 2x04 and it has been haunting me for a decade. That’s it, that’s the scenario.

The walls at the Griffith House are thin, and the first time Peggy gets sick there, she’s shocked and a little bit mortified when she finds out Angie can hear her coughing and sneezing the whole time in the next room over.