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okay okay me when i lie im a liar i haven’t written the fic but in my defense i move in a week for school so im trying to clean & also pack up my life & unbox the million packages ive ordered. because im a liar here’s a snippet (in order to force me to write. its 2 am & im writing directly on tumblr so no promises as to how this is going to go lol. also idk how all arenas work so pretend there are conference rooms even if they’re aren’t. also unsure exactly if pr people are there for post game media but given the context harris is there. im taking artistic liberties shh
the (somewhat) joint interview
Luck would have it that the Shane’s first game as a Centaur would be against the Metros. They win, 4-2, but Shane knows full well that he won’t get to celebrate for long until he’s pulled to talk to reporters. He had done some preparation, but he was still nerves. Thankfully Coach Wiebe suggested that Ilya join Shane for this, and even decided to set media up in a conference room so that Shane wouldn’t be bombarded with microphones in his face.
Ilya and him quickly throw on their post game outfits and head to the conference room hand in hand. Right before they enter, Ilya gives Shane’s hand a kiss and raises a brow at him. Shane blows out a breath and nods. They walk in heads high, but no longer holding hands. Professionalism and all that.
The reporters have some decorum for once, they wait until Shane’s ass hits his chair before they start shouting questions. Harris insisted on being there to try to control the media and Coach Wiebe is standing at the very back. Shane’s nervous, of course, but knows that multiple people there have his back, something that he hadn’t had for a long time as a Metro.
“One at a time, please.” Harris asks, tone kind but firm.
One of Shane’s favorite reporters goes first. “Shane, first of all, congratulations on your first game as a Centaur.”
Shane smiles. “Thank you.”
“Many of us are wondering, how does it feel playing with Ilya and not against him after being rivals for so long?” She finishes.
Shane knew he would get this question, it’s one of the ones he has a perfect response for, and it’s genuine. “Well to be fair, it was mostly media and league narratives that pushed the idea of us being rivals. Ilya has always been a force to be reckoned with on the ice and of course playing against him definitely got on my nerves, but I always respected him. Playing with him is great. We meet on the power play and he can read my mind like no one else. I somehow always have a sense of where he is on the ice without having to look.”
Ilya beams but his eyes quickly get a far away look to them. He turns to seemingly adjust his position in his chair and jolts in on himself, with a quiet “nxgt!” Through the small opening on the back of Ilya’s chair, Shane rubs his back a few times, a silent blessing.
“Speaking of only being on the power play with Ilya, how does it feel to no longer be the starting center?”
Shane’s about to answer, but gets cut off by Ilya sneezing.
“HA-AATSHIEW! AATSHIEW! AATSHIEW!” Ilya sneezes into cupped hands around his nose.
“Honestly, not being starting center is really nice. It takes a tiny amount of pressure off. On top of that, Ilya’s a fantastic starting center. There’s no point in fixing what’s not broken, he has such chemistry on the ice with his line mates too that they’ve built, I’m glad that it’s not changing just because I’m here now.”
“Bless you,” Shane says, in a chorus of blessings from reporters. Ilya shyly smiles and nods for Shane to continue.
“HUH-PTSHIEW! APTSHIEW! HEPTSHIEW!“ Ilya sneezes again. He’s met with another round of blessings and a very concerned look from Shane.
“Shane, how did it feel playing against the Metros and not with them for the first time—”
“HEH-PTSHIEW! APTSHIEW! A-AAKSHIEW!”
This time Ilya fully spins around, hands covering almost his entire face. Shane can tell he’s gearing up for another round and Harris rushes over with tissues. Ilya takes them and sneezes another set of triples. Shane can hear him start to wheeze, hinting at some sort of allergic reaction.
Shane stands up and goes to the back of Ilya’s chair where Ilya is facing, hands holding the tissues from Harris around his nose.
“Ilya, go to medical. You’re wheezing, something’s up,” Shane says softly.
Shane can tell that Ilya’s about to protest, but sneezes before he can.
“I’ll be okay, I promise. But you’re not, go to medical. I’ll be right down.”
Ilya nods and stands up. Shane walks him to the door where Coach Wiebe meets him.
“I got him,” Wiebe says. Shane nods, grateful to have a coach looking out for Ilya while he can’t.
Once again, as soon as Shane sits, questions are being tossed at him rapidly fire.
“What’s going on with Ilya?” is the first question he makes out.
“I don’t know, but he’s headed to medical right now.”
“Is this normal for him?”
Shane hopes that his cheeks don’t turn too red. Being asked about his husband’s sneezes and being expected to give a professional answer is cruel and unusual punishment.
// In the middle of the night, Remi and Levi wake up tangled together under blankets, both running fevers and fighting congestion. Remi keeps accidentally waking Levi with sleepy, half-stifled sneezes, and Levi responds with quiet, steady care instead of frustration. Between soft check-ins, forehead touches, water, tissues, and medicine, they slowly realize they’re both miserable, but safe, because they’re not doing it alone. The night becomes a loop of warmth, shared breath, and gentle reassurance until they finally settle back into sleep wrapped around each other. // 4k words
CW:
Flu/fever and illness caretaking
Sneezing fits and congestion
Nose blowing, runny nose, snot/spit (light bodily fluids)
Mild profanity
The room glowed faintly with the muted lavender of a nightlight tucked somewhere near the dresser, its soft hue barely cutting through the darkness. Outside, wind brushed against the window in slow, sighing currents. Inside, under a pile of blankets that had long since slipped into disarray, Remi and Levi slept tangled together in a knot of fever-warm limbs.
Remi’s body was a furnace behind Levi, heat radiating from his chest and arms in steady waves. Levi, naturally cooler, curled instinctively into that heat, cheek pressed to the hollow of Remi’s shoulder. Their breaths mingled—warm, uneven, thick with congestion.
For a while, neither stirred.
Then Remi shifted, his nose brushing faintly through Levi’s hair. His breath hitched, barely audible at first, like a snagged thread.
Levi didn’t wake to the movement— but he woke to the sneeze.
“Hh’… ihH’ktdSHhh!!!”
Remi nearly managed to stifle it against Levi’s shoulder, but the soft, desperate sound still jolted Levi from sleep, his eyelashes fluttering up in slow confusion.
He didn’t pull away. Didn’t tense. Just murmured, “…Bless you…” in a voice still weighted with dreams.
Remi’s arms tightened reflexively around him, a fever-heavy embrace that trembled almost imperceptibly.
“Mmnn… sorry,” he mumbled, the words gravel-soft and exhausted. “Didn’t mean t’wake you…”
“You didn’t,” Levi whispered, though his voice wavered with how recently he had been asleep. He lifted one sleepy hand and rested it over Remi’s forearm, thumb brushing gently back and forth. “You okay…?”
Remi didn’t answer with words. He simply nuzzled in again—pressing his forehead into Levi’s neck, letting out a warm, shaky exhale that tickled Levi’s skin.
But a moment later, Remi tensed.
His breath hitched again, sharper this time. Levi felt it before he heard it—the sudden tightness in Remi’s chest, the involuntary clutch of Remi’s fingers at his side.
“Hh—hih…”
Levi blinked, realizing what was coming. “Rem…?”
Remi tried to bury the sneeze into the blanket to spare him, but fever had dulled his coordination and instincts alike. He tilted forward slightly, breath trembling.
“Hh’… ngh—’isshh…!”
The half-stifled sneeze puffed warm air against Levi’s collarbone. Remi groaned weakly afterward, embarrassment flickering across his face even though Levi couldn’t see it.
Levi only rubbed his arm in slow circles. “Bless you… again.”
Remi let out a frustrated, congested sound that wasn’t quite a word. His glowing green eyes—dimmed to a foggy, fever-dulled shade—squeezed shut. He tried to relax, tried to settle his breathing, but another tremor ran through him.
“Hh… h-hh…” He sniffed hard, trying—and failing—to stop the rising tickle.
“Remi,” Levi murmured, voice gentle but fondly exasperated. “Don’t fight it.”
Remi’s reply was a rough whisper into Levi’s hair. “I’m tryin’… t’nnnot—hih—wake you…”
“You already did.”
Remi’s breath stuttered helplessly.
“Hh—H'ihhSHHhhiew! iit’shHIEW!”
This time, the sneezes rocked his whole body, curling him forward around Levi rather than away. Levi tightened his arms slightly, steadying him through the force of it.
When Remi slumped back again, exhausted, Levi shifted enough to look over his shoulder. Remi’s cheeks were flushed, brows knotted, his nose pink and running. He looked miserable—and heartbreakingly soft.
Levi brushed a few strands of black hair off Remi’s forehead. “Hey,” he whispered. “It’s okay. Really.”
Remi pressed into the touch without hesitation, eyes fluttering shut. Fever made him seek warmth unconsciously—made him cling, nuzzle, and breathe softly against Levi’s skin like he was trying to ground himself in the presence he trusted most.
“…Sorry,” Remi murmured again. Softer this time. Less coherent. “Didn’ wanna stop holdin’ you…”
Levi’s heart squeezed, warm and achy. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m still here.”
Remi gave a small, sleepy hum in response, his arms drawing Levi even closer. Their legs resettled, tangling naturally, and Levi relaxed fully into the embrace, letting Remi’s fever-heavy weight mold around him.
Their breaths synced gradually— slow, tired, stuffy— their bodies fitting together like they always had a place to return to.
They lay like that for several long, warm minutes.
Until Remi’s breath hitched again.
Levi sighed, already resigned. “Go on.”
Remi barely managed a warning sound before he sneezed once more—small this time, almost delicate compared to the others.
“Hihh’ISSHh!”
Levi smiled into the blankets. “Bless you, Acushla.”
Remi, already half-asleep again, let out a soft whuff of breath, nuzzling into the curve of Levi’s neck with a needy, fever-drowsy affection he rarely allowed himself when awake.
The room settled into quiet once more, dim and safe and warm. And Remi held Levi like he was something steady to anchor him, even through sickness and sleep.
Levi lay still for a few long breaths, letting the fog of sleep settle just enough for him to notice the details he’d missed a moment before.
Remi was burning. His skin was hot, fever heat radiating through the blankets and into Levi’s arms. Levi could feel the uneven rise and fall of Remi’s chest against his back, each breath thick and heavy with congestion. Every exhale came out warm and damp against Levi’s neck, hitching faintly near the end like Remi’s lungs were struggling to keep up.
Levi shifted very slightly, turning just enough to face him. Remi loosened his hold but didn’t let go, his arm slipping from Levi’s waist to rest low on his ribs instead. His eyes were half-lidded, unfocused, the glow dimmed to a foggy green-grey.
Levi lifted a hand and brushed Remi’s messy bangs away from his forehead. The moment Levi’s fingers touched his skin, Remi leaned into the touch—soft, instinctive, needy in the gentlest way. Like a sick, sleepy puppy searching for the closest bit of comfort.
Levi’s hand stilled for a heartbeat.
“…Remi?” he whispered.
Remi swallowed, gaze slipping unfocused before he blinked slowly back to him. His voice, when it came, was small and quiet in a way Levi almost never heard. A cracked whisper shaped more by exhaustion than breath.
“I feel like shit…”
It wasn’t dramatic. Wasn’t defensive or gruff or couched in curses. Just honest. Soft. Bare.
Levi's chest warmed, even through the fever ache. He shifted closer, pressing his forehead to Remi’s, letting their shared heat meet in the space between them.
“…Me too,” he murmured, voice slow and thick. “But we’ll be okay.”
Remi’s eyes flickered, the faintest spark of relief softening them. His arm tightened around Levi’s waist—just a gentle pull, nothing demanding. He dipped forward a little, breath warming Levi’s cheek.
Then Remi pressed a kiss to Levi’s forehead.
Slow. Barely-there. A feather-light touch of lips that lasted only a second… but felt like something instinctual and tender, nudged out by fever before he could think enough to stop it.
Levi inhaled softly in surprise, a tiny smile blooming across his face despite how sick he felt. His forehead tingled where Remi’s lips had been.
“That tickles…” he whispered, the words brushing against Remi’s throat as he tucked himself back into the circle of Remi’s arms.
Remi let out a soft, exhausted hum. Not a laugh — just a warm sound of acknowledgment, of agreement, of comfort.
Levi rested his cheek against Remi’s chest, listening to the slow, heavy thud of his heartbeat. Remi’s chin lowered until it rested lightly against the top of Levi’s head, their breaths synchronizing again in messy, stuffy unison.
And for a quiet moment, in the dim haze of fever and blankets and shared warmth, being sick didn’t feel quite so terrible.
Because neither of them was alone in it.
Levi lasted all of five minutes before the dryness in his throat became impossible to ignore. His head throbbed with each heartbeat, and the fever fog in his skull made everything feel slow and far away.
He shifted carefully, trying not to jostle Remi as he pushed himself upright.
The attempt failed instantly.
The moment Levi lifted even an inch off the pillow, Remi whined — a soft, broken sound, more breath than voice — and his arm tightened around Levi’s waist.
“Don’t go…” Remi mumbled, eyes still closed, face buried in Levi’s chest. “…you’re warm…”
The vulnerability in his tone hit Levi straight in the ribs. It was rare enough when Remi asked for things outright, rarer still when he sounded small about it.
Levi stroked Remi’s shoulder gently. “I’ll be right back, baby. Just getting us some water.”
Remi blinked up at him, bleary and fever-bright, wearing the softest, sleepiest pout Levi had ever seen on another human being. His lower lip stuck out slightly, his piercings glinting in the dim light, his brow drawn, glowing eyes foggy with confusion and misery.
“…Promise?” he whispered.
Levi leaned down and kissed Remi’s hair. “Promise.”
Remi exhaled, defeated, and let his arms fall away. He flopped back into the blankets with a congested grunt, sniffling thickly as Levi slid out of bed.
The cold air outside the blankets hit Levi immediately. He shivered hard, wrapping his arms around himself as dizziness washed through him. His head felt too light, his sinuses too heavy. Even walking felt like navigating through fog.
Remi watched him through half-lidded eyes, barely visible beneath the blankets he’d pulled to his chin.
“Don’t fall…” he mumbled, voice hoarse and worried in spite of sleep.
Levi gave him a tiny, tired smile. “I won’t.”
He almost did.
Halfway to the kitchen counter, his knees wobbled and he caught himself on the table, breath coming out in a stuffy huff. His nose buzzed sharply—wet, urgent—and he barely had time to cup his hands around his face.
“Hh—Eh’schh’iue!! Hh’…H'ptschu!”
The sneezes bent him forward, and the aftermath left him blinking away tears. His breathing thickened, nostrils flaring in dull irritation.
From the bed, Remi called weakly, “Bless you, kitten…” Then, after a pause: “…y’sure you don’t need help?”
Levi sniffed wetly and shook his head. “I’m good,” he rasped, though his voice didn’t sound convinced.
He grabbed two glasses of water, a box of tissues, and the packet of cold pills. The effort left him winded, and he trudged back to the bed slowly, feet dragging on the wooden floor.
Remi’s eyes followed him the entire way — fever-glazed but attentive, like he was tracking the movements of something precious he couldn’t risk losing.
The moment Levi sat down, Remi reached for him, arms opening just slightly.
Levi barely settled against the pillows before Remi pulled him into a loose, shaky hug. His forehead pressed to Levi’s temple; his breath shuddered warm across Levi’s cheek.
“You’re back…” Remi murmured, relief softening his entire face.
“Told you I’d be.” Levi nudged him gently. “Help me sit up?”
Remi tried — but at the effort of leaning forward, his breath caught sharply. His nose twitched once… twice… then he turned abruptly into the blankets.
“Hh—hihh—! Hh’gdtSSHHh!—hh’DTSH’ue!”
He slumped afterward, dazed, sniffling hard. “Ugh… sorry…”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” Levi murmured, guiding a tissue gently into Remi’s hand.
Remi hesitated—then blew his nose quietly, embarrassed, a soft congested sound that cracked at the end. Levi rubbed his arm through the blankets.
“Feel a bit better?” he asked.
Remi nodded weakly. “A little…”
When Levi eased back into bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight, Remi shifted immediately. He turned toward him with a quiet, needy sound and pulled Levi in without hesitation, one arm slipping securely around Levi’s shoulders, the other settling at his waist. Levi was drawn in until his back rested against Remi’s chest, Remi’s warmth closing around him like a shelter.
Remi pressed his face into Levi’s hair, breathing him in slowly, relief evident in the way his hold tightened just a little too much. His chin rested against Levi’s shoulder, his breath warm and uneven against Levi’s neck.
Levi relaxed into the embrace, nuzzling back instinctively, his head tipping slightly until it fit beneath Remi’s jaw. Remi made a soft, almost inaudible sound at the contact, vulnerability leaking through in the way he held on.
Levi reached back to brush Remi’s hair away from his face, fingertips grazing his temple in a slow, careful motion.
“C’mere,” Levi whispered. “Let’s take these meds, then we can lie back down.”
Remi hummed quietly in agreement, the sound vibrating against Levi’s shoulder. He tried to sit up while keeping Levi tucked close, but the effort showed more than he wanted it to. His grip faltered for a moment, his breath hitching.
Levi turned just enough to help, guiding him upright while staying close. When Levi passed him the cup, Remi’s hands shook around it, water sloshing near the rim.
Levi covered Remi’s hands with his own at once. “Hey,” he murmured. “Let me.”
Remi didn’t argue. Not tonight.
He relaxed his grip and let Levi guide the cup to his lips, tilting it slowly so Remi could sip without spilling. Each swallow was followed by a small, congested breath, his nose clearly struggling to keep up—flaring, then hitching as he paused to breathe through his mouth.
Levi waited patiently between sips, never rushing him.
When Remi finally pulled back, he exhaled wearily, shoulders sagging as the effort caught up to him.
“…thank you…” he mumbled, voice thick and soft, consonants blurred by exhaustion and congestion.
Levi reached for the tissue box and pressed one gently to Remi’s nose before Remi could look away. “You’re a mess…” he said softly, without even a hint of teasing cruelty.
Remi’s cheeks pinked a little — a rare sight, even under fever. The blush barely showed through his flushed skin, but Levi caught it anyway. Remi didn’t pull back. If anything, he leaned into the touch, letting Levi wipe his nose with slow, careful strokes.
“Sorry…” Remi muttered.
“Don’t be,” Levi whispered. “Just breathe.”
Remi tried — but the moment he inhaled, his breath snagged sharply.
“Hh… hh—” His nostrils flared helplessly. “Oh… shit—”
The sneeze pulled him forward, chest tightening painfully.
“Hh—hihh—hH’RHH’TSHHH!—hh’rRRTSSHH’uuhh!!”
The wheeze afterward was shaky and desperate, a thin rasp clawing out of his throat as he fought to catch his breath. Levi braced a hand on Remi’s arm, steadying him through the aftermath.
“You okay?” Levi whispered.
Remi nodded weakly, though his eyes were watering, breath still hitching in small, involuntary tremors.
“Hh… hhh…”
“Remi—”
“Hh’RRDTSSHHhh!—gktSSHH’uuh!”
The force of the sneeze drew Remi forward against Levi’s back, his arms tightening reflexively as his breath left him all at once. He slumped there afterward, forehead dropping briefly to Levi’s shoulder with a wobbling, congested sniff. His eyes stayed half-closed, lashes damp.
“Gods… that sucked…” he rasped.
Levi reached back carefully, threading his fingers into Remi’s hair and rubbing slow, grounding circles against his scalp. “I know,” he murmured gently. “You’re okay.”
Remi swallowed, cheeks still flushed, and leaned into the touch as much as he could from behind, pressing his face closer to Levi’s shoulder. The warmth of Levi’s hand, steady and familiar, seemed to anchor him, easing the fever haze just enough for him to breathe again.
Levi opened his mouth to speak, but his breath caught suddenly — a sharp, involuntary gasp. His nose twitched once, then twice, and he barely had time to bring his sleeve up as he bent forward.
“Hh… Hhih’eeshiew!! H’etshhiEW!”
The sneeze was small and breathless, muffled into his sleeve as he leaned away instinctively. He sniffled afterward, a wet, embarrassed sound, shoulders hitching as he tried to recover.
Remi tightened his hold at once, one arm firm around Levi’s middle. “Bless you, kitten… c’mere…” he murmured, voice rough but gentle.
Levi didn’t resist. He shifted, turning carefully in Remi’s grasp until he could curl back against him, settling with his cheek to Remi’s chest. Almost immediately, he nuzzled closer, nose brushing Remi’s shirt as another quiet sniffle escaped him. A small patch of damp warmth pooled beneath his nose, darkening the fabric as he breathed there, unselfconscious now that he was tucked safely away.
Remi adjusted around him, chin resting against Levi’s hair, pulling the blanket up over them both with a slow, deliberate motion. Levi sighed and tucked in closer, forehead pressing lightly to Remi’s sternum, letting himself be held while the night closed softly around them.
Remi lowered his head and pressed the softest kiss into Levi’s hair, lips lingering for a moment as he breathed him in. Levi’s hand slipped beneath Remi’s shirt, fingers splayed against the fever-warm skin of his ribs.
Neither spoke.
The world stayed hushed. Their breaths stayed ragged, uneven, but shared.
And even with sneezes still building in Remi’s chest, even with Levi shivering against him…
There was a softness between them stronger than all of it. A quiet, sleepy togetherness that didn’t need anything but the warmth of the moment.
The room had settled into the kind of quiet that only existed in the deep hours of the night, when even sickness softened into something slow and hazy. Their breathing filled the small space under the blankets—stuffed, uneven, but warm in its togetherness.
Levi shifted just slightly against Remi’s chest. His fingers traced faint shapes over Remi’s ribs, comforting more than searching.
For a long stretch of stillness, they didn’t speak.
Then Levi exhaled a trembling breath and whispered, barely audible:
“I’m glad it’s you…” His voice cracked softly. “Even sick.”
Remi’s heart stuttered—literally, physically—beneath Levi’s cheek. The warmth of his hold changed subtly, tightening for a moment before melting into something even gentler. The kind of softness he only ever revealed to Levi. The kind he didn’t know how to control.
He ducked his face into Levi’s hair, hiding the way the words hit him—too much, too tender, too real. His fever-warm nose nuzzled through the strands, and Levi felt the shaky inhale against his scalp.
Quietly, barely more than breath:
“Me too, kitten…” A pause. “…wouldn’t wanna be sick with anyone else.”
Levi’s fingers froze, then curled into Remi’s shirt. His breath shivered in his throat—half emotion, half congestion. He gave a small, involuntary whimper before the tickle in his sinuses surged up.
“Oh—hold on—”
“Hh… hih—” His body tensed against Remi’s chest.
Then two soft, stuffy sneezes:
“—hah’ESHHh‘uh!! HET’Shhh’eu!”
It muffled into Remi’s shirt, leaving Levi sniffling quietly, embarrassed.
Instead, he tilted his head and pressed a slow, tender kiss to Levi’s temple—feather-light, steady, a promise in the shape of a touch.
“Easy…” Remi murmured, voice wrecked but warm. “Got you, kitten.”
Levi melted under the words, his sniffles softening into slow, steady breaths. He shifted again, burying himself deeper into Remi’s arms until their bodies fit together as though guided by instinct alone.
Remi’s hand slid up Levi’s back, palm warm, fingers gentle despite their fever shake. His breathing evened out behind Levi, still thick, still rough—but grounded now in the closeness between them.
The night wrapped around them like another blanket, heavy and comforting.
And for the first time since the flu had dragged them both down, Levi felt safe. Remi felt steady. And everything—aches, fevers, tickles, misery—seemed somehow softer in the space between their hearts.
The night settled deeper around them, heavy with warmth and the slow lull of shared breathing. Levi felt Remi’s skin grow hotter under his fingertips — fever blooming again across his cheeks, radiating through his neck and collarbones like rising embers.
Remi shifted restlessly, brows pinching. A soft, low sound escaped him — not quite a whine, but something close, a tired plea for comfort he didn’t know he was making.
Levi shifted slightly where he lay against Remi’s chest and lifted one hand, cupping Remi’s cheek with gentle care. His thumb traced slow, soothing strokes along Remi’s flushed skin as he reached up to smooth sweat-damp hair back from Remi’s forehead.
“Shh… I’ve got you, Acushla,” he whispered, voice soft and close.
Remi leaned down into the touch immediately, turning his face toward Levi’s palm like he was drawn there by instinct alone. A quiet, contented hum rumbled in his chest beneath Levi, vibrating faintly against him as Remi’s eyes drifted shut. Each careful stroke grounded him, easing the fever haze and dulling the ache settled deep in his bones.
Levi kept his hand there, cooling Remi’s face with slow, deliberate motions. Gradually, Remi’s breathing steadied and deepened—still thick with congestion, still carrying a faint rasp on every inhale, but calmer now. His arms loosened around Levi’s back, hands relaxing where they rested, fingers slowly uncurling as exhaustion finally pulled him toward sleep.
Little by little, Remi slipped in and out of sleep — blinking drowsily, humming when Levi touched his hair, then fading again.
Levi felt his own body surrender to fatigue. His eyelids fluttered, then drooped, his fingers tangling lazily in Remi’s hair — soft, repetitive motions that soothed them both. Their legs intertwined beneath the blankets, warm breath mingling in quiet puffs.
The rhythm of the room narrowed down to the two of them. Soft. Slow. Stuffy. Tired.
Remi stirred once more, eyes half-opening as his breath caught shallowly in his chest. Levi felt the shift beneath him and tilted his head slightly, cheek still pressed to Remi’s shoulder, listening for the telltale hitch of another sneeze.
It never came.
Instead, Remi lowered his head just enough to brush his lips to Levi’s forehead. The kiss was soft and unhurried, more instinct than intention, lingering for the barest second before he rested his chin there again.
His voice followed, quiet and worn thin by fever, shaped around careful mouth-breathing.
“I love you, kitten…”
Levi’s chest warmed, emotion blooming slow and steady beneath his ribs. He didn’t lift his head, didn’t break the closeness. He only curled in a little more, one hand slipping up to rest against Remi’s collarbone as he whispered back,
“I love you too, Acushla. Always.”
Remi exhaled shakily, relief easing through him as his arms tightened just enough to keep Levi close. His breathing stayed slow and open-mouthed, each warm breath ghosting over Levi’s forehead, damp and gentle with congestion.
Levi closed his eyes and let the sound of it lull him—Remi’s steady breathing, the rise and fall of his chest beneath him, the quiet safety of being held.
They fell asleep like that, Levi tucked against Remi’s chest and shoulder, Remi wrapped securely around him, lips resting near Levi’s hair, the blankets drawn close around them.
The night softened. The world stayed distant.
And in that small, warm space between breath and sleep, nothing else mattered at all.
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Double sneezes are great for so many reasons, one of my favorites being the opportunity to offer a second, more empathic blessing after the second sneeze.
