His only relief was in sleep, which he wasn't getting much of either, with the sinus pressure and congestion and general miserable itchiness. His eye and ears itched, even the roof of his mouth and back of his throat itched.

"I don't know how you put up with this every summer," he'd said to Olruggio this morning as they'd cleaned up from breakfast, swiping gently at the base of his tender nose with a napkin. He knew he was whining, but as long as it was just to Olruggio and not in front of the girls, he figured he could allow himself that tiny degree of self-indulgence. "The inside of my head feels like it's made of bees."

"Made of bees?" Olruggio had echoed him with the slightest degree of teasing, and Qifrey had huffed a sigh of irritation

"You know what I mean." He could feel his nose beginning to twitch in irritation, but his arms were immersed up to the elbows in suds and dishwater, so he turned his head away from Olruggio and tried to stifle the sneezes he could feel coming. His allergy sneezes were itchy and hard to satisfyingly stifle, always feeling like they were ready to tumble out and over each other like eager puppies.

"htt'TSIEU! ttxsHIEU! HKT'schu!"

"Bless."

Not quite yet, Qifrey wanted to say, but his breath was already shivering into the beginnings of another pair of sneezes.

"httkchuu! chhSHIEU!"

"…and again."

"Thangk you," Qifrey sniffled, then ground his nose against the fabric of his upper arm to try and tame the itch that was still prickling around the rims of his nostrils. It felt like someone was tracing them with a feather. The mental image was ticklish enough that it was all he could do to try and hold his breath to stifle a sixth and final sneeze. "HKKTshh!"

"To be fair, I don't usually get it quite as bad as you," Olruggio said.

"You do if you spend enough time outside," Qifrey reminded him, and Olruggio made a face.

"I guess."

Qifrey must have looked rough, exhausted and pink-nosed and puffy-eyed, because Olruggio stayed close as the morning went on, coming up with excuses to be in the kitchen or in the main room (wherever Qifrey was). Qifrey appreciated the quiet support, because he was certainly flagging as the day went on, and it was helpful to have another witch around for the girls to ask questions to. Still, it was hard to keep from nodding off over lunch, even when Tetia and Richeh began to gently quarrel over whose turn it was to help Qifrey prepare dinner that evening.

"Girls," Olruggio said sharply when their quiet bickering began to spill over into something more sustained. Qifrey tried to blink himself back to wakefulness, covering a yawn with one hand, as Olruggio continued, "Why don't we go outside and give Master Qifrey some peace and quiet for the afternoon?"

Oh he definitely was looking bad, if the girls' quick acquiescence was anything to judge by. Agott returned to her room to study, as always, but the other three trailed after Olruggio like little ducklings, calling bits of kindness like "get some rest!" and "feel better soon!" back to Qifrey. It was quite touching, actually, and he made a note to thank Olruggio for his thoughtfulness later after the girls had gone to bed.

He napped as well as could be expected; the quiet in the atelier helped, and the couch was incredibly comfortable (he understood why Olruggio napped here so frequently), but he was still plagued with itchiness and congestion. When he did sleep, he dreamed fitfully, weighed down by images of deep, dark water and skeletal trees reaching towards the horizon.

But he also dreamed of Olly — which was not new, unfortunately; the other man crept into his subconscious with some frequency, particularly when he was already exhausted or otherwise ill-at-ease, and his guard was down.

Sometimes the Olly of his dreams was upset with him, or accusatory, or hurt deeply by the careful distance that Qifrey kept between them. Qifrey knew that the real-life Olruggio felt those things too, even though he was too kind and reserved to express them, so those dreams always stung. At the end of the day, Qifrey deserved his ire.

But the ones that truly cut him to the quick were the ones in which they were happy together. The ones where Qifrey let Olruggio touch him, where they could hold each other, where Olruggio could brush away the tears that Qifrey wept in the solitude of his rooms at night. Those were the ones that hurt the most when he woke, that gave him a yearning ache so deep in his core that he felt like he couldn't move for limping.

He knew that he was dreaming this time, floating in a sort of half-awake twilight, when Olruggio came to sit on the couch by his feet.

"How are you feelin'?"

Dream-Qifrey scrubbed the side of his hand briefly under his nose, squinting, and sighed. "All right, I suppose," he said. "How are the girls?"

"Fine. Workin' hard." Olruggio reached up and brushed a bit of Qifrey's hair back from his face. "You've been fussin' with your eye again."

"Have not," Qifrey protested, but he knew it was a lie, and he knew that the swelling and redness would tell on him all the same.

Olruggio frowned. "Sorry the tonic hasn't done much."

"Not your fault," Qifrey sighed, and coughed into the back of his wrist. "I'm just ready for this to be done with."

"'M sure." Olruggio leaned in, and Qifrey thought he was going to touch his hair again, or remove his glasses, but he surprised him by cupping the back of his neck in his hand and pressing the most delicate of kisses to the tip of his nose.

It tickled, and Qifrey lurched back, rubbing fiercely at his nose to try and fight back the sneezes that he could feel beginning to build. The last thing he wanted to do was to sneeze on Olruggio. "What was that for?"

"You looked like you needed t'be kissed," Olruggio said quietly, and he leaned in again.

But Qifrey had to sneeze, badly, and he held up one hand to fend Olruggio off while bending his other arm and directing the sneezes towards his elbow.

— and then he woke, and he still had to sneeze, so he repeated the motions he'd felt himself make in his dream and just managed to get his arm raised in time.

"hkk'TSIEW! ktxshuu!"

They just barely scratched the itch, and he was still stuck there, panting faintly, until the urge backed off just enough to leave him sniffly and frustrated and without relief. He groaned and flopped back against the pillows.

"And again."

It was Olruggio's voice, and it made Qifrey jump, as if the other man could see the contents of the dream that Qifrey had just been shaken from. He quickly looked away with the excuse of looking for his handkerchief.

"Thank you. How are the girls?"

"Fine. Workin' hard," Olruggio said from the door, unknowingly echoing Qifrey's dream. It made Qifrey flush, and he quickly buried his face in his handkerchief to hide it. He heard Olruggio cross the room, moving away from him towards the kitchen. "D'you need anything?"

Another flicker of memory from his dream, of Olruggio leaning in to kiss him, and Qifrey gritted his teeth against the image. "No, I'm fine, thank you." He lowered his handkerchief and palmed at his cheek, which at some point had become damp. Was his eye watering again? "And thank you for looking after the girls, I've enjoyed the extra rest."

"Course."

Ah, damn, he'd been crying, hadn't he, while he slept? How mortifying. Qifrey sniffled again and cleared his throat, trying to wrestle back composure. "Give me a moment to freshen up and I'll join you."

"No need, I'll bring the girls back inside," Olruggio said. "You'd best stay inside too until you're done with all the sneezin' and such."

He sounded so firm that Qifrey couldn't help but duck his head to hide a smile. "All right, if you insist."

Olruggio thought for a moment about correcting her — he'd seen Qifrey sick plenty of times over the years; he just didn't get sick as often as Olruggio did — but decided against it. "He just needs some rest, and he'll be good 's new."

"Should we not take him to the doctor in Kalhn?"

He shook his head. "Qifrey hates the doctor more than just about anythin'. If his fever hasn't gone down in a day or so, we'll talk about it again, but he'd 'ave to be pretty sick before he'd let us take 'im anywhere."

Coco's mouth trembled a little bit as she looked down at her lap. Olruggio narrowed his eyes slightly. None of the other girls were taking Qifrey's absence as hard as Coco was, but then again, they'd all been under his tutelage for longer and had seen him ill before. And perhaps, Olruggio thought, remembering the tarnished shades of Coco's backstory, this wasn't about Qifrey at all.

"Coco," he said gently, getting her attention. "I promise you Qifrey'll be fine. He's tough, and he knows he's got to get better so he can get back to teachin' you lot again."

That made her smile a little bit, which eased the knot in his chest. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, and brushed the heel of her hand beneath her eye. "I'm just worried about him."

"Look, I've got to go get something inside anyway, so I'll check on 'im for you, deal?"

A bit more of a smile from Coco, this time tinged with relief. "Deal. Thank you, Master Olly."

Olruggio got to his feet and brushed the bits of grass from his robes. Agott was watching them from not too far away, and when Coco's back was to him, he pointed to Agott, then to Coco, and angled his head a bit in suggestion. Agott caught his gaze and nodded, and the last thing Olruggio saw before he went inside was Agott heading over to check on Coco.

It was quiet in the atelier — something that Olruggio did not often get to experience. His tower tended to be fairly peaceful, but the main space always had something going on, even when the girls were working. But they were all out taking advantage of the nice day, and instead of Qifrey cheerfully humming away in the kitchen, he was shut away in his chambers in hopes of keeping the rest of them from getting sick. Olruggio snagged a waterskin from the kitchen and made his way back to Qifrey's room.

He had planned to just poke his head in and confirm that he was still breathing, not wanting to disrupt any potential sleep he might be getting, but as he approached the door he could hear the other man coughing within. He raised his hand and knocked twice on the wood.

"'s me."

"Olly…come in."

Qifrey's voice was weak and hoarse, and Olruggio took a steeling breath before letting himself in.

Qifrey's chambers were usually fairly tidy beyond the odd stack of books and papers on his desk and dresser, but today the place was a mess. The curtains were tugged shut, miring the place in a shadowy gloom, and the bedsheets and pillows were disheveled and half on the floor. His nightstand was empty but for a couple of crumpled handkerchiefs.

"Disheveled" was also too kind of a word to describe the room's only inhabitant, who was sitting up against stacked pillows and tucked into a nest of blankets. Qifrey's hair was flat and untidy, and he looked wan and damp with sweat. Most surprisingly, he wasn't wearing his glasses, which gave Olruggio a clear look at how fever-bright his eye was.

He looked naked and vulnerable like this, and ill, and Olruggio was glad at once that the girls hadn't seen him. He closed the door carefully behind himself.

"Have you taken any tranquilleaf yet today?"

Qifrey shook his head and coughed into his fist. It was a chesty, breathless sound with a gasp on the tail end of it, and Olruggio sighed.

"You look like your fever's up again. Here." He handed Qifrey the waterskin, who took it and drank from it gratefully.

"Thank you, Olly," he rasped once he'd drank his fill. "I'm sorry. I'll take some shortly."

"You'd better. The girls're worrying about you."

Something like pain creased Qifrey's expression, and he looked down at the bedsheets. "Please tell them I'll be all right."

"Don't make me a liar."

Qifrey looked as if he was about to speak again, but something brief and irritated flickered across his expression, and he angled his body away from Olruggio to sneeze into the elbow of his nightshirt. "htt'shieu, ITSCH'oo! TXHshieu!"

"Bless," Olruggio rumbled. "If you keep holding 'em in like that you're going to give yourself quite the 'eadache."

"Already there, I'm afraid," Qifrey breathed. He found a handkerchief somewhere in the tangle of blankets and wiped delicately at his nose with a sniffle.

"'s that why it's so dark in 'ere? Looks like a tomb."

Qifrey nodded miserably. On instinct, Olruggio reached out to press the back of his hand to Qifrey's forehead, wanting to check the degree of his fever, but Qifrey deflected the touch and gently pushed him away.

"I don't want to get you ill."

"You know I'll end up gettin' it anyway," Olruggio grumbled, and he stepped away from the bed to conceal the flash of hurt that he could feel on his features. Qifrey was always like this when he was ill. Why wouldn't he just let Olruggio look after him? Always mothering the girls and Olruggio and never letting anyone do the same to him.

"That's because you don't let yourself rest," Qifrey said, an infuriating echo of an argument they'd been having for a decade or more.

The irony of it was the last straw. Olruggio rounded on him. "You're in some position to be sayin' that," he said heatedly. "Look at you in 'ere, no food, no water, no medicine, just sufferin' in the dark like you think that's all you deserve." He took a step back towards the bed, something like pleading slipping into his tone. "C'mon, Qifrey. You've got the girls to be lookin' after now, which you can't do if you don't look after yourself first."

It was probably playing dirty, mentioning the girls again, but if that was what it took, Olruggio was not above it. He did still feel a little bit of guilt when Qifrey looked away, his eye overbright even for being feverish.

"I know," Qifrey said quietly, his voice breaking a little as he blinked away what looked to be the beginnings of tears. "I'm sorry."

Olruggio squeezed his eyes shut and dug the heel of his hand into his forehead with a sigh. "Stop apologizin' and just take the damn tranquilleaf."

"If I -- hhpardon me -- ISCHieu! hkk'TSIEW!"

Olruggio opened his eyes to see Qifrey bent forward over his lap, handkerchief clutched in tented hands, blinking blearily. "Bless you."

A watery sniffle from Qifrey. "Thank you, Olly."

Olruggio could tell by his tone that he wasn't just thanking him for the blessing, and he looked away, embarrassment beginning to heat the back of his neck. "Yeah yeah. How about that tranquilleaf, then."

"Would you...mind fetching it for me? It's on the dresser."

There was a mug on the dresser that Olruggio had assumed was long-cold tea. He brought it to Qifrey's bedside. "D'you want me to warm it up?"

Qifrey shook his head with the shadow of a smile. "No, thank you."

Their fingertips brushed briefly when Olruggio handed off the mug, a split second of contact that sent warmth tingling up his arm. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his robes. "I'm stayin' until I see you drink some of that."

Qifrey started to laugh, which proved to be a mistake as his lungs seized in a harsh and congested coughing fit. Both of them winced.

"I suppose I should," Qifrey rasped once he'd recovered. He took a sip from the mug and sighed. Olruggio hoped that the tranquilleaf would start to work quickly on his cough in particular. "But I think I would like to rest some more, if that's all right."

Olruggio eyed the mug and then met Qifrey's gaze with firm steadiness. "All right. But I'll know if you don't finish drinkin' that. Don't make me drag you to the hospital in Kalhn."

Qifrey made a face. "I'll finish it, I promise. Thank you, again."

some background on the au: g/ojo is the student at the uni studying astrophysics (and playing basketball) but his fam (g/ojo clan) is the most rich and powerful fam in japan and is very judgmental and hard on him, and expects him to take over the fam business when he graduates (point of contention in the story is he rlly doesn’t want to but struggles to stand up for himself- aka he might seem ooc at times). ge/to is his philosophy professor. he’s very respected and adored by all the staff and most female students but he’s v stoic and keeps to himself, g/ojo decides to flirt w him as a joke and thus begins the slow burn…

ok srry for the info dump, let’s begin now !

Suguru Geto enjoyed office hours. He had been teaching for 6 years now, and it had always been a highlight getting to work with his students more closely on the material he was so passionate about. It truly made the extra work hours fly by.

However, there was not a single uni-relatedly thought in his head as he gazed at the the beautiful white haired boy sitting behind his desk, leaned back in his chair, long legs perched lazily across the desktop.

Satoru Gojo was the most magnificent creature Suguru had ever laid his eyes on. It had been about 3 weeks since they’d started seeing each other officially, and only the third time Suguru had worked up the courage to invite him to “stay late.” Being in a closed room with Satoru made his hands get clammy and his stomach feel like fireworks at the summer festival. But at the same time he absolutely could not get enough.

Suguru peaked out the door, making sure the coast was clear, then slowly locked it before turning back to catch eyes with Satoru, who was already grinning mischievously at him.

“You’ve got me all alone,” he drawled, standing up and leaning over the desk, batting those long white eyelashes. “You nervous, Suguru?”

Suguru’s arms broke out in goosebumps hearing his first name, which was still a recent development. Since they’d hooked up a few times, it had been decided it seemed okay to drop the formalities. He hoped the sensation never went away, the way each syllable dripped out of Satoru’s mouth like honey.

“Mmmm,” Suguru mused, dropping down into his chair and looking up at him. “Yes. You should be too. We need to be careful.”

Satoru’s eyes sparkled as he settled back on the desktop, facing him. “Are you still coming to my basketball game tomorrow? The other team’s supposed to be crazy good.” He smirked. “But if I have your face to look at in the stands, I promise we’ll kick their ass.”

He started chattering on about how his parents wouldn’t let him go to the next few practices because of “a work thing,” so it would be a good time to come.

Suguru had come to learn quite quickly that the Gojo empire came before pretty much anything Satoru enjoyed. Of course, he didn’t feel comfortable commenting the full extent of these feelings yet. So he just let Satoru rant about them whenever he wanted—surely it was good for him to get these things off his chest.

However, as Satoru began exasperatingly explaining how his parents were trying to force him to go to a business cocktail party in two weeks, which he despised, Suguru noted the noise levels. He couldn’t help the way he can’t relax, knowing a few of his colleagues liked to stay late on Thursdays.

“Satoru, a little quieter, pleeeease. Not all the staff will have gone home yet.”

This stopped Satoru mid sentence, and suddenly his eyes were blue pools of mischief again. He leaned his face down to look at Suguru behind his glasses, and said, “Oh, Suguru, I’m afraid I’m gonna get a lot louder than this.”

Suguru felt his insides clench as heat pooled in his belly. Satoru’s glasses slipped down his nose as he started to slid off the desk, but suddenly his expression changed from playful to—panic?

His eyes widened, and he pulled off his glasses, placing them beside him on the desktop. All advances from a second ago stilled. His lips parted and he reached up to scrub at his nose with his wrist.

“S-Sorry, one sehh-sec…”

Satoru’s face reddened as he rubbed and pinched at his nose, turning away so that Suguru wasn’t able to fully see him.

Confused, Suguru stood up from the chair, moving forward and cupping Satoru’s cheek in his hand. Satoru’s eyes were so sensitive, it wasn’t unusual for something to bother them. “Are you alright? Did you get something in your eye?”

“N-N-No—I—I’m—“

Satoru’s eyes squeezed shut and Suguru saw his flushed lips part, his breath hitch in a pitchy gasp. He couldn’t finish the words before he lurched forward, slamming a wrist against the underside of his nose, his head bumping against Suguru’s chest as he curled inward. His body jerked once, twice, three times.

Suguru rested a hand on his back, alarmed, before he realized. “O-Oh. Bless—“

“Hh…xxgttt! nxxgtt!” Two more incredibly restrained sneezes, but not completely soundless this time. Satoru remained twisted forward, head resting against Suguru’s chest. He pressed three more silent stifles into his wrist. Suguru smiled, amused. He could feel the delicate white hair brushing against his chin as he breathed in the comforting scent of veryyy expensive shampoo.

“Heh! Ih’xxchu!” The last one was the loudest so far, but still incredibly stunted. Satoru let out a shakey breath and scooted backward, not looking up, and fumbled his hands around behind him. He grasped for a tissue from the box that was always sitting on Suguru’s desk and hurriedly cupped it around his nose.

Suguru stepped back to get a better look at him now that the fit had seemingly concluded. “Bless you,” he offered, surprised at his boyfriend’s obvious discomfort. He added teasingly, “When you said you’d get louder, that isn’t what I expected.”

The man who normally oozed confidence was now hiding his face behind a tissue, not meeting his eyes.

“T-Thanks. Sorry,” Satoru mumbled, blowing his nose quietly.

Suguru was once again stunned by this drastic shift in character. “Y-You’re apologizing? For sneezing?”

Satoru cringed at the words. “I guess I am. I’m…” he tossed the soaked tissue into the bin before grabbing another. “I know they’re annoying. Just ignore it.”

Suguru sat for a minute in stunned silence. As if he could read his questioning thoughts, Satoru blurted out, “M-My dad used to…tell me I needed to change them. The way I sneeze. He said I sounded like a little girl and he had a son, not a daughter.”

Suguru blinked. “I didn’t know there was an option to change the way you sneeze,” he replied with astonishment. Satoru’s parents were absolutely, mind-boggling ridiculous. He’d never heard of such a thing.

Satoru sighed and rolled his eyes, sliding his glasses back into position with a congested sniffle. “I tried for sooo long to make them sound…I don’t know, manlier? I can’t help it. Every time I sneeze, it’s like….five, six times….when I’m sick, it’s even worse,” he groaned. “When I’m sick I’ve hit fifteen. In one go.”

Suguru huffed a laugh and sat back into his chair. “So you’ve just resulted to making them silent then? Doesn’t that hurt?”

Satoru nodded, the blush returning to his cheeks. “But it’s better than hearing my dad bitching about a literal normal bodily function. He’s such a dick, it’s insane.” He sniffled again. “Now I just do it on instinct. Just in case.”

Suguru raised his eyebrows. He loved learning these new little details about Satoru, no matter how silly. “Well, you don’t need to do that around me. In fact, please don’t. I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

“I don’t even remember what it’s like to sneeze like a normal person,” Satoru laughed nervously. “It’s been so long.”

And just then an idea formed in Suguru’s mind, something that made him feel uncomfortably warm. He couldn’t really place what exactly about the idea excited him so much, but with Satoru, even the most mundane thing lit a fire in his belly. The kind of attraction that burned for every thing he did, no matter how small. So without really thinking about it, he said “I can help you?”

Satoru blinked, looking confused. “H-Help me? How?”

Suguru’s gaze shifted to his bookshelf, which was overflowing with an array of fun knickknacks from his many years of studying, of traveling, and now of teaching. His eyes fell on a relatively new addition—a quill pen he’d picked up from a museum a few weeks ago. He got up and lifted it delicately off the shelf, giving it a little shake to make sure it hadn’t collected too much dust.

Satoru’s eyes widened as he brought the quill over, and Suguru swore he saw his nose twitch even at the sight of the feather. His Satoru, so magnificently sensitive. He was still sitting on the desk, so Suguru positioned himself in front of him, and gave him a reassuring smile. “Do you think this will work?” he asked innocently. “I think it would for me.”

Satoru nodded slowly, nervously. “Um….yea. Definitely,” he replied, his voice barely a whisper. “Are you sure? You don’t think it’s….gross?”

Suguru reached out to gently ruffle his hair and murmured, “nothing you do could ever be gross to me.” He twirled the feather in his fingers. “But if you want to stop, we can stop. Just tell me, okay?”

Satoru nodded and removed his glasses again. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, inching forward to give Suguru unrestricted access to his nose.

Having no other guidance than the occasional cartoon, Suguru brought the feather up and ran it under Satoru’s septum. The reaction was nearly immediate. Satoru’s features began to twitch and his lips parted, nostrils flaring dangerously as Suguru dragged the feather ever so gently along the bridge, then back down.

“S-Sugu-hihhh-“ his breath began to catch so quickly. It took barely any stimulation at all, Suguru realized somewhat proudly, to have his beautiful boyfriend hanging on the edge of a sneeze.

Satoru was clearly trying to fight the tickle, but he was failing fast. His mouth fell open. His chest swelled and his breath hitched desperately, “Hihhh! Hihihihhhh-“

“Don’t try and hold back,” Suguru chided, “we’re trying to fix that, remember?” He knew, with one last gentle swipe of the feather, that it was a losing battle anyway. He pulled the feather back and gazed in awe at the sight of his boyfriend’s flushed face, his white lashes fluttering, his nostrils trembling with need. Satoru took a final gasping inhale before his body pitched forward, unintentionally aiming directly for Suguru’s chest.

“IHhh’iitsh! hh’nDSHhh’iw! tSCHh’iewwh! Hih…h-hih-!” One hand reached out to hold Suguru’s shoulder, a weak attempt to steady himself, as his head snapped forward again and again. “tSZShh! tSsZCHH’iyu! hh’tSSHHhyu! Isshhh! IssHHH’iew!”

Satoru’s real sneezes were music to Suguru’s ears. He stroked his hair fondly as the fit continued. He wouldn’t admit it, but the sensation of Satoru’s sneezes drenching his shirt…of him clinging to Suguru’s shoulder as the sneezes ripped through him…was doing something to him. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to come to terms with that quite yet.

“Bless you, bless you,” Suguru whispered, pressing a kiss to his sweaty forehead. “That was cute. Are you alright?”

Satoru responded with another set of sneezes—“tSCHh’iewwh! tSzzhh! IssHH’iew!”—before finally his body gave him a break to breathe.

“T-Thagk…you,” he managed, panting heavily. He waited a minute before looking up, his face red and his nose streaming, before asking, “tissue, please?”

Suguru pressed a few into his palm and then stepped away, settling back into his chair to give him space to clean up. “How was that? Better?”

Satoru nodded earnestly. “So much better. It actually felt really good.”

The heat in Suguru’s belly moved to gather between his legs. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Um…g-good. I’m glad I could help.” He looked down at his watch. “I’ve got to get home soon so I can start grading the midterms from yesterday. Do you want to come and spend the night?”

Satoru hopped off the desk. He was back to having that sneaky smile on his face, and Suguru froze as he slid right down onto his lap. He had a knowing look in his eyes as he reached down to palm the growing bulge in Suguru’s pants.

“I think we should hurry up back to yours,” he whispered, voice dripping with sweetness. “Looks like there’s something you need help with too.”

——