#connntent

“Aoba-san!”

He loves Clear. Aoba really, truly does, but on instinct, he sighs. This is the way Clear calls his name when he wants something. Aoba looks up from his coil. “…Yeah?

“I’d like to sneeze!”

Usually something weird. 

Aoba sighs again, closes out the tab on the article he was reading, and looks up. Clear managed to get his attention with this one. 

“Alright, I’ll bite. What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Aoba pats his mattress, similarly to how one would coax a pet to sit with him, and Clear gets off the floor and climbs up next to him on Aoba’s bed. This could take a while, they might as well get comfortable. 

“Sneezing,” Clear repeats, “like humans do! I want to try.”  Aoba blinks. It wasn’t something that had exactly ever crossed his mind, but it did make sense. He’s so used to Clear by now, he almost sometimes forget that the other is still an android. “Then, you never have before..?”  

“Nope!” Clear shakes his head enthusiastically. “Which is why I want to. Is it fun, Aoba-san?” Aoba wrinkles his nose a bit. “Not… really. I mean, I think some people say it is, but I mostly find it a pain…” he trails off, and now Clear is giving him puppy dog eyes.

“So it could be fun for me!”

“I… guess so?”

“So help me then, Aoba-san!”

Good thing Ren is asleep for this. It’s not the weirdest thing he’s had to explain to Clear, but at least it's just the two of them.

“That’s… not exactly how it works.” He expects Clear to be a little disappointed, but continues, “Sneezing is like something your body does on its own. You can’t really force it.”

“Nuh-uh,” and before Aoba even registers, Clear is leaning forward towards the tissues Aoba keeps next to his bed. “I saw this online!”

Aoba watches in silence as Clear pulls out one tissue, and begins twisting it. He’s probably in too deep by now, so sure, why not. “And you’re going to stick that up your nose?”

“Yes! I’ll be careful, Aoba-san!” Clear presents the newly made tool to Aoba, laying it in his hands. He leans forward a little bit. “Go ahead!”

“You want me to do it.” Yes, it’s definitely good Ren is asleep. There’s no way anyone else needs to see this, Aoba thinks to himself. 

Clear nods enthusiastically. His skin is just as smooth as it looks close,  his eyelashes flutter softly against his cheeks. Too damn handsome. How could Aoba say no? 

He gently maneuvers the tissue, mumbling, “alright, I’m starting…” under his breath. Nervously, he brushes it against the inside of Clear’s nostril. 

“Ah!” Clear makes a noise and squirms a bit, and Aoba pulls the tissue away immediately.

“Are you alright?”

 Clear nods. “Fine! It just… tickled a bit,” he laughs sheepishly. He looks determined now, and nods. “Mm! Alright, keep going.” 

“If you’re sure…” Aoba brings the tissue back up, gently inserting it into the same nostril. Clear’s breath hikes a little, but he gives Aoba a small nod. 

This isn't exactly something Aoba’s done before, but he is worried about doing it wrong, so he goes about it as gently as possible. He wiggles the tissue just a bit, and Clear gasps this time. 

“It feels… strange.” Aoba pauses. “Keep going, ah… it doesn't exactly feel like enough. Um, a bit harder…”

The words out of context make Aoba blush, and clicks his tongue as he goes back to his work. He didn’t think this would be so complicated. Tissue back in, same side, gently nudge it around. This time, he brushes it closer against the walls of Clear’s nose. That should work, right? He gets carried away with his work, making small circles. The sight almost makes his nose tickle, and Clear has to speak up between a few soft gasps. 

“It’s not…” Aoba looks up. Clear is a little teary eyed. It’s cute, somehow. “It’s not, um…” He sniffs. “I can feel something, but its not there yet—, and he almost whines, “Aoba-san…” 

Aoba has to try not to laugh. He has to remind himself that Clear’s never sneezed before, but it’s hard not to tease him for getting so worked up over it. He’ll go for a new approach this time then, the left nostril.

This time, when he inserts the tissue, Clear’s reaction is almost immediate. His breath hitches, almost dramatically. Aoba takes it as a good sign. He goes up a little further than before this time, making the same soft motions.

“A- Aoba- san…” Clear’s saying something. He needs to look up again. “I— hhih, no, wait, keep goi—hhiH!” and Aoba does, watching Clear’s eyes gently close. “I feel lik— hh, this might be, it…—“

He picks up the pace, thinking offhandedly to himself that this is almost similar to when they have sex.

“Aoba,” Clear tries to warn, “Something, um, i-it’s gonna, hh,  I—,” and Aoba has the common sense to at least try to yank himself away a little bit. The sudden removal of the tissue is what pushes Clear over, and he sneezes downward.

“hhIh’ tsCHUE! ...Ah. Aoba-san, I did it!”

Aoba grimaces and wipes his hand off on his sheet. He probably should've explained at least a little better beforehand. “Clear, if for whatever reason that happens again in public, you’re kind of supposed to cover it up.”

“Ah!!” Clear scrambles, but Aoba is quick in handing him a tissue. “I’m sorry, Aoba-san!!!” 

And Aoba knows he really is, so he can’t be mad. “It’s alright,” he sighs. “Well? What did you think?”

Clear finishes wiping his nose off with the tissue, sniffs, and pauses for a moment. He seems to be thinking deeply about it. “Fun! Strange, but fun, I think. I’d do it again sometime.”

Aoba laughs, but his eyes follow Clear’s hands as they grab another tissue and begin to twist. “Wait, now?”

“No, silly! It’s Aoba-san's turn.” Clear turns towards him, brandishing the tissue like a weapon.

“Um, I don’t know,” he says quickly, but Clear, as usual, is quicker with puppy dog eyes. 

“Aoba-san, please! I want to hear yours too—”“You’ve heard me sneeze!” Aoba interjects, but Clear goes on— “Yes, but I forgot! Come on Aoba-san, let me try too..”

Aoba sighs for the nth time in the last twenty minutes. Well, it wont be the worst thing he’s given into Clear on. “Alright, fine. But be careful.”

Clear nods, and suddenly Aoba finds himself a little bit embarrassed, letting Clear come to him rather than lean forward. His eyes close naturally, which is why the first tickle takes him by surprise.

“A-Ah!”

“No good?” Clear hesitates.

“No, just..” a brief sniff, “You can go ahead.”

Aoba closes his eyes again because for whatever reason he thinks this would be too embarrassing to do with them open, but he’s prepared this time. Or so he thinks, before his lips part just a bit and his breath hitches softly. 

“hh—, hih..,” it’s not enough to make him sneeze just yet, but it definitely tickles. He nods to Clear to keep going, and as he does, the tissue brushes up closer to the walls of his nose, right as Clear shifts it again, and—

“hhHAH—!” Aoba jerks away violently, and it all happens so suddenly that he can barely turn away from Clear. “hIH’ kkSHU-! —kkshu.-kssh.kshh!!- —  iiH, fuck—“ he manages to get out, shoulders jerking forwards again. “iH’ ksshu.!”

Clear watches in silence, speaking up when Aoba gently fans his face after another sneeze. “Are you—“

 “Tissue please,” Aoba desperately cuts off, and when Clear hands him one he immediately sneezes twice into it. Aoba buries his nose in it, eyes squeezed shut, and the room is silent for a minute (except for Aoba scrubbing his nose against the paper, because Clear can hear anything Aoba does.)

“Jesus…” He sighs, and brings the tissue down from his face. “That was—“ his face screws up, “Wait, no, one more— hih— h’K’sshhuh.!” Aoba sniffles. The tissue goes back up. “Ugh.” 

“Um, Aoba-san…” 

“It’s fine. You can see why not everyone likes it though, right?” Clear nods, and he almost looks like he feels bad, and offers him another tissue. “It’s okay, really. You got to learn today, right?”

Clear plants a kiss on Aoba’s cheek, and Aoba is thankful he’s avoided his nose for now. “Yes, thank you! Aoba-san was very cute as well, you know.”

—————————————

Till was sick.

Ivan was being very normal about it.

He couldn't be too shocked, honestly. Till was complaining about a headache yesterday, clearing his throat absentmindedly, and going to bed two hours earlier than he usually did. Till had brushed it off as nothing. Ivan had brushed it off as something, choosing to hope that maybe Till wasn’t (was?) getting sick— maybe it really was just nothing, because Ivan wasn’t sure he could handle the scenario without combusting from sexual frustration.

But lo and behold, his knowledge of Till’s habits proved correct, surpassing Till’s own. Ivan would like to think he was holding himself together quite well, all things considered. He woke up to Till choking himself awake with a coughing fit, heat becoming apparent as he went to rub Till’s shoulders. He can tell with a hand on his forehead, but he took Till’s temperature anyway. It’s a low grade fever, but a fever nonetheless. Till was sleepily relocated to Ivan’s couch, so he can watch him while he makes breakfast.

Till hasn’t sneezed. Yet. A harsh coughing fit led to him pulling a paper mask off of Ivan’s counter, mumbling something as he put it on. Ivan cursed under his breath. Regardless, Till is bundled under two of Ivan’s nicer blankets, and Ivan is making veggie porridge. Till usually uses Ivan’s kitchen more than Ivan himself does, but thankfully porridge is one of the few recipes he can’t mess up. He adds green onion and an already-shredded carrot from the fridge, closing it with his hip.

Obviously, Till comes first. Till always comes first, and Ivan’s going to take care of Till like his life depends on it. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t have to get off at the end of the day.

“Here.” The bowl is placed gently onto the side table by Ivan’s couch, and Till blinks. Ivan nudges the bowl towards him. “This should be edible. How are you feeling?”

Till goes to speak, but not much comes out. He clears his throat and tries again.

“Not that bad. It’s just a cold, I think…,”

(The phrase makes Ivan's stomach warm.)

“Head kinda hurts,” he sniffles, “Uh… throat doesn’t feel great…” another sniffle, scrunching his nose, “but it sounds way worse than it is, honestly.”

Ivan raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Till barks, another ticklish cough escaping. He adjusts the blue medical mask in response. Ivan pushes the porridge further towards him. It’ll get cold.

“Why are you wearing that?”

“What?”

“The mask.”

Till tugs at the strings around his ears in response. “Uh, ‘cuz I'm sick? I don't wanna get you sick.”

Ivan swallows, “I don’t mind.”

“Well, I do. I’ll feel bad.”

“Well,” this time he places the soup spoon into Till’s hand, “You have to take it off to eat this. It’s getting cold, and I worked pretty hard on it.”

“Pft,” Till snorts, lifting the metal topper off the bowl, “It’s porridge, I think you'll be okay. Anyway, you have these fancy-ass bowls that keep heat, remember?”

He pulls the mask off and lets it dangle from one ear, bringing his head down to the dish.

“Oh, it actually looks pretty, ...–“ Till pauses. His eyes squint a little bit, and before Ivan can react he’s taking a soft gasp and wrenching away from the side-table to sneeze.

“hhhHHHh— hh’ EiSHYuuh-!! h’ iIEHSchyw! hhh - haAHssch’’ uuuh…!”

“... Bless you.”

(Ivan is trying not to choke on his own spit. He can tell it was probably from the steam. Fuck.)

“Ughh.. Thadks,” Till sniffs, congested, and pulls the other loop of the mask back over his ear, “See, this is why I wanted to wear the mask.”

“You really don’t have to,” Ivan blurts.

Till pauses. He squints again, in a different way this time.

“Why the fuck are you looking at me like a rabid animal?”

Ivan doesn’t respond.

“You’re being weird. Is there… Oh my god, Ivan. Do you have a fucking boner?”

“Sorry..?” Ivan’s apology is laced with false innocence.

“Hah! You do, wow. I forgot you’re like… into this or some shit. God, you really are a freak,” Till and his words tease more than they embarrass Ivan. Not that he’s embarrassed, but he does like the idea of being humiliated by Till, and this is probably the closest he’ll get, all things considered.

It’s not that Ivan didn’t want Till to know; they were no strangers to experimenting. Till already knew Ivan was into a bunch of weird shit, and Till usually indulged Ivan and enjoyed himself. This kink simply didn’t seem relevant, and Ivan was satisfied with the current play they engaged in. He shelved it for a long time down the road— they had been fucking longer than they’d been dating, but Ivan knew even this was a little out there.

About three months ago, Ivan had gotten absolutely hammered. It was an honest mistake, he’d never been the type to lose his composure, but one thing led to another and Ivan was being walked home from the bar by Till, clinging to his arm for balance the entire time.

Something or other (The cold air? Pollen? The alcohol? Ivan wasn’t sure) had made Till sneeze, and Till usually sneezed in a minimum of threes, so it was a tall order for Ivan to keep his mouth shut.

“Bless you bless you blessyouuuu,” he’d mumbled, unable to keep his tone free of arousal.

Till had sniffled and looked at him weird before jerking away for another sneeze. Ivan was still holding his other arm. He felt Till shudder. He couldn’t help but make a pathetic noise.

“Mmh..bless you….. God, Tillll, youre so ffucking hot,…”

“Weirdo. God, you’re so wasted.”

Ivan had blacked out. Till hadn’t. They had a brief, interesting talk the next morning; the cat was out of the bag. Honestly, not the most degenerate thing Ivan had done in front of Till.

“Yes, I am,” back in the present, Ivan attempts to be composed, but Till is smirking.

“So that turned you on?” He sniffles behind the mask, the thin fabric wrinkling. Ivan just nodded.

“Well, whatever. This isn’t the first time you’ve liked bodily fluids.”

“It’s not about the…” Ivan sighs. Well, it is, but it isn't. He doesn’t really care to explain. Just then, Till’s mask crinkles up with a gasp.

Till’s chest snaps forward, hands cupping the surgical mask. When Till has a cold his sneezes are more wet, and a little more drawn out. Ivan takes intense note of this. He stares at Till like a predator would his prey, eyes focused. Till groans after he sneezes, like he does every time.

There’s a wet spot on the mask.

“Bless you,” Ivan rushes out between breaths. Can you take it off? The mask. Um. Please.”

Ivan is shameless when it comes to Till, because it’s Till. Till tells him he “looks like a dog in heat when he's like this,” but if Till saw himself like Ivan did, then maybe he’d understand.

“Wow. You used your manners,” Till nods, surprised. He reaches to pull the mask down, but Ivan gets there first. Till blinks in surprise, simply mumbling another, “Perv.”

Till’s nose is fairly pink, as Ivan expected. His cheeks are a little flushed too; Till had always been the type to turn red easily. He hadn’t noticed before, but his eyes are a little wet from the fever. The underside of his nose is threatening to leak onto his cupid’s bow, and he sniffles with the removal of the mask.

Ivan stands for a second, taking his face in. Till looks so good like this.

Till just huffs out another laugh. “You are so weird. When you're done staring at me, could you heat my porridge back up?