#groundzero grossness

Spend time with your boyfriends, she said. It’ll be fun, she said. They miss you, she said. What Yuki didn’t say was that Choso would be put in the eye of a storm. What storm, you may ask? Satoru and Suguru have an awful cold. Choso knew when he opened the front door, he was screwed. The living room of the apartment was dark, the blankets stripped from the sofa, and the distant sound of coughing echoed through the halls from the bedroom. Choso should have listened to the voice in his mind that said, ‘turn back,’ but Yuki was already gone. He tried to text her, begging her to come and get him, but all he got in return was ‘have fun’ like she was dropping him off at daycare.

“Choso?” A voice calls from the bedroom. God, this felt like walking into a horror movie house; the urge to run was paralyzing. Choso cringed at the voice, which he could probably guess was Satoru. Suguru was the type to sleep more. Well, unless Satoru was keeping him up. Slipping his shoes off, Choso sighs and adjusts the mask he has over his face before calling back.

“Yeah, it's me!” He pads his way towards the bedroom and peeks inside.

A nest of blankets piled up on the bed, with two sickly men inside. Suguru was lying up against a couple of pillows with his long black hair splayed out in a chaotic mess. His slightly tanned skin was tainted by a flush across his face, his purple eyes glassy and exhausted. His nose seemed to be the primary problem, already looking irritated and turning red, along with the amount of tissues that were spread across the sheets and the two boxes nearby. Then there was Satoru lying on Suguru’s chest, well, now he was sitting on his waist. Dressed in what he could guess was one of Suguru’s sweatshirts from how loosely it fit and soft PJ pants. His already pale skin was much paler than usual, the fever face sticking out clearly. With those stupid sunglasses off, those crystal blue eyes were dull and hazy. Gojo kept the cuff of the sweatshirt pressed to his nose, but he couldn’t hide the obvious redness.

“There you are cobe here!” Gojo whined, making grabby hands towards Choso. Choso hesitated but dodged the tissues on the floor and on the bed to slide in beside Geto.

“How are you two doing?” Choso asked awkwardly. It was already clear what the answer was but it was polite to ask. There was a slight grin on Gojo’s face that never spelled anything good. He reached out and slung his arms around Choso, even as Choso tried to lean away; there’s not much space to get away without falling off the bed where he sat. Gojo pulls Choso to him and nuzzles into him with a congested him of happiness.

“Better dnow that you’re here.” Thick wet sniffles punctuate his sentence. Choso can feel the feverish warmth searing into his skin from Gojo and looks at him with slight worry.

“You’re running hot.” He points out, the grin spreads across Gojo’s face, and his eyes shine deviously for a moment. In a deep, gravely voice, he replies.

“Aaaaw you thigk i’b hot~” A chill runs up Choso’s spine, and he feels his chest grow warm underneath the mask. A whine slips from his lips, distracting him from everything else. Gojo lets go only to slide into Choso’s lap while Geto rolls onto his side, lazily wrapping an arm around Choso. He’s pulled further onto the bed this way, and now he can’t get out of it. He’s surrounded on both sides by two biohazards!

“C’bmere, dod’t wadt you to fall off the bed,” Suguru mumbles. Gojo is now leaning into Choso’s chest with content plastered across his face. Though it's temporarily lived as his nose and face scrunch up. His nose wriggles around before his lips start to part, and soft gasps

“HhhHheh! Heh! Heeegh! hHEG’nnsSSHHWw!” A sneeze that sends a long, thick string of mess oozing down Gojo’s face. Tuning back into reality, Choso sees this and grabs a tissue from the box.

“Bless you, here,” He tries catching what leaks out and brings the tissue up to Satoru’s nose, but as soon as they touch, another eruption comes.

“hHEG’nnsSSHHHMMMPPHh!” Gojo’s body rocks forward, causing Choso to wrap his free arm around his waist. But he’s paying more attention to the heavy, damp warmth trapped in the tissue that he knew wouldn’t be holding much more if another sneeze came. He carefully pinches off anything left and tosses the used tissue aside. Satoru groans and sighs with a sniffly “Thagk you”

“You’re welcome.” Then Choso feels wet warmth on his collarbone and sees Gojo rubbing is nose against him

“H-hey!” Choso tries to push him off gently, but Gojo wraps his arms around his torso securely.

“You’re so soft ad comfy” He whines. Choso huffed and just rubbed his back while Geto curled up beside them.

“You know how he is, Cho, no point id fightig it.” Well, at least Geto hadn’t done anything yet. A short series of wet sniffles and snorting followed his words; a piece of Geto’s hair flops over his face and brushes against his nose. Even when pushed back, it just flops back over. Geto shudders, fanning his face with one hand; his breath comes in long, drawn-out gasps. They tense his whole body, making his shoulders and head move back and shrug. His other hand is blindly searching for a tissue, but he doesn’t have time, and neither does Choso.

“ Huhhh Huhhh hhhuuuughuh! HUdt’ssscHHHhheuhw! HUdt’ssscHHHhheuhw HUdt’ssscHHHhheuhw!” Three body-shaking sneezes barrel from Geto, who just barely manages to catch them in the cuff of his sleeve. His muffled, congested voice can barely be understood, so he repeats himself.

“Cad you had be a tissue…or three?” Once he finally got the message, Choso grabbed a few tissues and held them out. Suguru took them and released his other hand from his face, showing the multiple thin strands of snot that dripped down before he tried cleaning it up.

“Sorry it just doesn’t stop ruddig, its always doig this.” Geto apologizes and lets out an utterly devastating nose blow. It definitely sounded that way; you could hear the snot flooding into the tissues.

“Guh this thig is so stuffed up’b.” He grumbles, wiping at his nose roughly before tossing the tissue aside.

“Yeah, it sounds like it” Choso agreed. Suguru leaned towards Choso’s shoulder with a sigh.

“Thagks for cobig over, Satoru’s beed whidig about it since last night.” Gojo looked up at Geto and glared at him playfully.

“I have’d beed whidig” He whines, his sickly boyfriend rolls his eyes and pulls the blanket over himself.

“Choso,” Gojo says. Choso looks down at the other with a ‘hm?’. Suddenly, Gojo’s hand comes towards Choso’s face and tugs at his mask.

“You know you don’t need this, it's just cold.” “Seems more like the plague to me,” Choso mutters. Gojo pouts at him and pulls down on his mask

“Oh, cobe od, you’ll survive.” There’s a shared look between Satoru and Suguru, and the mischievous glint is back. Before Choso truly questions anything, he feels himself getting pressed between the two on the bed. Their arms around him, both front and back. Gojo straddles Choso’s lap and leans in for a kiss. Choso’s hands come up to Satoru’s shoulder, but his efforts to push away are fumbled when his own body betrays him in want of that kiss. Noow Choso’s whining. “You’re gonna get me sick.” Suddenly Suguru’s deeper voice purrs in his ear.

“Mbaybe that’s what we want, blood bunny~” A heat spreads from Choso’s cheeks to his ears, his whole face feels hot now. He knows he’s screwed now; he could already taste the sickness on his tongue from that kiss. Short hiccupy breaths give him the cue that there’s no going back now. He can see that spacy open-mouth expression on Satoru’s face. His nose is running down his upper lip on one side, while the other looks like some is threatening to spill.

His mouth drops open as his head tilts back a little, showing those flaring red nostrils right before disaster comes down.

“hHEG’nnsSSHHWw! hHEG’nnsSSHHWw Heehhh! hHEG’nnsSSHHWw!” Spray hits him point-blank in Choso’s face while Gojo’s nose leaks heavily down his face.

“Ugh thats behh better, huhh h-huhoold on.” Gojo’s words falter, and his chest heaves

“Gihhh give bme hheeeh hehh! Your hhuhh give bme your hand,” He commands. Choso hesitates but brings up his hand. Gojo takes it and brings it to his face to deliver a messy fit.

“ hHEG’nnsSSHHWw! hHEG’nnsSSHHWw! hHEG’nnsSSHHWw!” Snot splatters into Choso’s hand, its heavy and warm and leaking between his fingers. Gods, how could one person make that much snot!?

“Thagk you, that felt so bmuch better,” Gojo sighs, like doing that gave him relief, even if he still sounded horribly congested despite letting out all that. He then leans away from Choso’s hand and nuzzles his nose into his collarbone again, pulling a shiver from him. Meanwhile, Geto was already rubbing his nose into Choso’s shoulder like his nose was pissing him off.

“This stupid thihh thig is so tiihh tickly.” Choso feels Suguru’s grip on him getting desperate just like his hitching. Long and vocal, his body shakes, pressing his chest to Choso’s back. Suguru reels back and delivers an equally wet and messy set into Choso’s neck. Choso lets out an “Anhk!” and tenses; it feels like a wet kiss on his neck.

“ HUdt’ssscHHHhheuhw! HUdt’ssscHHHhheuhw! HUdt’ssscHHHhheuhw! Huhhh uuuuuughh HUdt’ssscHHHhheuhw!” Mess runs down his neck and onto his shoulder, Choso tries to bite back another noise that gets caught in his throat, but his eyes rolling back give him away. A hand grabs his face and turns him to face Suguru. Those deep purple eyes are half lidded, but they’re not Choso’s focus; instead, it's that red and abused nose that keeps flaring and twitching. He almost doesn’t catch what Suguru says to him.

Another day at the station 21, Nigel slinked down the steps with sleep still in his eyes and brown hair tousled in every direction. His head felt heavy, and his whole body ached, but he was more willing to say it was just ‘training soreness’ even if his nose felt completely blocked. Making it to the steps, he’s immediately greeted by his fellow firemen, who are also sleepy but still a little more awake as they brew their coffee, chew on meat sticks, and play on their phones or watch the news.

“Ey look a live kid,” one of them said. Immediately, Nigel's half-lidded eyes opened, and he did his best to look more alert as he muttered a soft “yes sir?”

“See, we didn’t brutalize you too bad this week, told ya we wouldn’t kill ya” Said one as he took a swig of his coffee. Another- Abel- came up behind Nigel and wrapped his bicep around his upper body to trap him and mess up his hair.

“Maybe we ain’t going hard enough, West, he can take some more, I’m sure.” Nigel flinched and grimaced but didn’t fight Abel off much and just dragged himself over to the ‘kids table’ in the back corner of the kitchen when he was let go. He plopped down and put his head in his arms, shuddering hard when the cold wood of the table touched his cheek. With his head down, he felt the congestion move, which caused an awful prickling sensation in his sinuses. He snorted thickly and scrunched up his nose, which temporarily ridded it.

During breakfast, he managed to grab a small bite to eat and downed a bit of coffee. Another person walked into the kitchen. He had black hair that peaked out of his beanie that donned the station’s logo, a short beard and stache, a station company quarter zip, blue tactical pants, a blue backpack, and black duty boots.

“Morning ya’ll” He greeted. The firemen waved at him as they shoveled food into their mouths as if they’d been starving all day and night.

“Ey its the passenger princess!” West pointed at an empty seat, and the man sat down. Morgan Freight, one of their paramedics. Nigel didn’t work with Morgan much directly unless it was dragging victims over to him; he had run 2 calls with him on the ambulance, but not much since. Morgan usually had another older fire medic on board. However, when Nigel started to doze off, Morgan knocked on the table gently to wake him up and told him.

“Ey you’re on the medic with me, when I’m done, we gotta check the back, alright.” Nigel absent-mindedly nodded and laid his head back down “Oh shit, Morgan’s got the probie today?” West snickered, Abel laughed. “Damn, dude’s gonna make the kid soft.” “Meh means when he’s not busy, he’s gonna be training with us, two words, ladder mase.” Nigel bit back a groan.

Nigel didn’t get to rest his head much, as soon as the guys could, they put him on dishwashing duty, which wasn’t anything new. The steam from the hot sink water was sure loosening up the wall of congestion, which meant a lot of sniffling and rubbing his nose into his sweatshirt.

Finally, Morgan called him over.

“Truck check”

Nigel stuffed a few napkins into his pockets after using one to hastily wipe at his nose before heading down the hall to the garage bay. In the bay, he’s greeted by the chilly fall turning winter air and bright sun through the open garage. Morgan opened the doors and handed Nigel a sheet of paper.

“Check everything off that’s stocked. If you find something we’re low on or don’t have, go and get it from the stashroom and sign it out. Do you know how to do that?” His voice was still a bit gravely from sleep. Nigel nodded and took the paper as he climbed in.

“Yes, sir,” Morgan nods approvingly and sits on the center seat to set down his book bag and empty it out. “Good, I like my rig set up a certain way, bags, iv set up stuff, and anything that’ll prick ya should be on the side you’re on. When you’re done checking that, check our oxygen tanks, will ya?”

Once again, Nigel nodded as he opened the little cabinets and boxes and used the pen attached to the clipboard and paper to record everything. They were silent for a little while; the sounds of wet sniffles, coughs, feet shuffling around, and cabinets opening and closing filled it. The up and down motion was making that congestion shift around more than Nigel’s body liked. That prickle turned into a tickle he tried to rub away, but of course, it had to ruin the number one probie rule. Not a sound besides ‘yes, sir’ unless it’ll kill someone.’

He tried to quiet it as much as he possibly could, hurriedly dropping a saline bag onto the work bench to grab at his nose by the second sneeze as the first escaped him. “HhNGgsshhuhw HhNGgsshhuhw! Huhhh HHhNGgknnk!” The ambulance rocked a little from the motion, but Nigel prayed silently that Morgan wouldn’t comment as he fished out a napkin from his pocket.

“Bless you, you alright?” It took a second for Nigel to get his words out but he managed “Ye-yes sir, sorry.” Morgan just chuckled and shook his head. “No worries, ain’t nothing to be sorry for.”

They finished their check, cleaned the inside, and Nigel ran to grab his book bag and plopped it inside the front cab. Right as Morgan and him started to walk away, the tone went off. The speaker's lights flashed a single red bar, and a robotic voice bellowed.

“Ambulance 21 respond. Ill person; trouble breathing.” Morgan took out his phone and checked their app for more information, huffing as he headed towards the driver’s seat. “Welp, let's do it!” He called out. Nigel jumped into the passenger seat, and they drove off with lights and sirens blaring down the road.

It was barely 8 am, and they were on their way. Nigel got out his phone to see what the app said. ‘Adult patient with flu symptoms, chief complaint of trouble breathing and fever.” Well this would be his first.

“You ever ran a med call after your schooling?” Morgan asked “Twice but its been’d abit” Nigel admitted sheepishly, snuffling and rubbing his nose onto his wrist.

“Well, lucky you, this’ll be your call, it's a BLS, so unless shit hits the fan, they’re all yours.” Morgan grinned as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and weaved through traffic. Nigel shrank a little in his seat and started going over the notes he had. Morgan seemed to sense the nervousness.

“Ey, i’ll step in first okay. You remember your XABCs? And assessment?” It took a second for it to process but Nigel nodded.

“Yes, sir, primary, history, and second.” “Good, good, if they’re altered, what's the first thing you wanna check after XABC?” “Blood sugar?” Nigel guessed, and Morgan grinned as he leaned up in his seat to look over the dashboard.

“Yeah, you’ll be fine, you got this. Also, you ain’t gotta call me ‘sir’ like that, I ain’t that strict or that old.” Nigel nodded and sighed hard, his shoulders lowered a bit.

When they arrived at the home, the men hopped out of the truck. Nigel shoved his notebook in his pockets and shivered hard. The cold air stung his throat and nose and reminded him of yesterday’s training. Hose work, and let's just say it got wet, by that I mean the guys decided Nigel needed to ‘cool off’. Now he was sniffling, sneezy, and sore, and all he wanted to do was crawl back into bed.

He grabbed the stretcher, loaded their gear on it, and towed it to the front door. Morgan got the door open quickly, and they walked in to see the Patient on the floor, sitting on the steps. A young woman in her fluffy bathrobe, hair in a messy bun. She was hunched over, shivering, her face flushed, her hands clutching the bathrobe. Morgan introduced them to the woman.

“Ello ma’am, I’m Morgan, this is Nigel, a medic and EMT with the fire department. What seems to be the problem?” Nigel gave a shy wave from behind as Morgan crouched down to the woman.

She weakly tells them she’s had the flu for a few days, her fever hasn’t broken and her chest feels tight. Morgan nodded understandingly as he fished a set of gloves from his pockets and pulled them on. Nigel dug some out from his bag and put them on his.

“Mind if we set you up with some oxygen?” Morgan asks. She nods. He steps back, pats Nigel on the shoulder, and whispers. “I grab the stuff you talk with her,” Nigel agreed, crouching toward her. However, just as he did, the congestion shifted, and he stifled, barely in time. But that also made him tumble onto his ass and hit his head against the wall. He winced at the sharp pain ringing through his head.

“You good?” Morgan asked. Nigel scrambled to his feet with a nod as he rubbed the back of his head with a few sniffles.

“Yeah, yeah, mb’good.” He turned his attention back to the patient. It didn’t take a doctor to know she wasn’t doing so hot. After getting some history, hooking her up to the monitor, and taking her temperature, they got her on the cot, and away they went. Nigel’s heart did sink to his ass a little bit when he saw ‘103’ on the thermometer screen.

Nigel drove this time, since the poor women needed an IV and that wasn’t something he was allowed to give, along with some other things. Being in the driver’s seat always made him nervous; everything always felt wrong, and he was still learning how to drive it. And today was not the day for a driving lesson. He could feel his nose trying to run down to his upper lip, the sirens drowned out his sniffling. All the sniffling was dragging the snot inside against the sensitive insides of his nose, though, and it was causing small tickles he knew would not be a fun clean up if one managed to grow bigger than that. It also made him want to rub his nose off his face.

When they arrived at the hospital in the ambulance entrance, he hopped out to help bring their patient inside. The hospital wasn’t much warmer than the weather outside, well, at least it wasn’t raining today. A small collection of nurses came out from their station as Morgan called out.

“Got a 27-year-old woman, with the flu, difficulty breathing, chest tightness, temperature of 103 both on scene, and en route, I gave IV saline and tried passive cool down, temp’s not budging, and she’s getting altered. Sats got a little better with oxygen, but it's still not great!” Nigel barely registered anything after that; it was a blur of people coming in and out, commands and equipment being shuffled around. The next thing he knew he was out in the hall with Morgan.

“Alright, let's go, gotta decom the back,” Morgan said with a head tilt towards the automatic doors as he pulled the stretcher from behind. Nigel nodded, finally zoning back in.

In the back, they got to disinfect their gear. The faint chemical scent of the wipes seemed to be the one thing Nigel’s nose needed to send it over the edge. He tried to lean away from any of the cabinets as his breath hitched; there was no need to whack his head on anything else. His free hand fiddled around to grab any napkins he stashed away earlier; he just barely pulled a shaky napkin-clad hand to his face in time.

“HeEH! HhPNkksshhhh! Hehhh! Heh! Heieeeh! HhPNkksshhhh! HhPNkksshhhh! hH’atzzZSChhihhww!” Each sneeze rocked the ambulance and bent the poor guy forward even as he tried to hold onto something. He grimaced when he noticed how soaked his hand felt; those napkins barely protected his hands from the spray, let alone the strands of snot that dripped down.

“Bless you! You alright over there?” Morgan asked with surprise, Nigel blushed hard and nodded while he tried to clean himself up. Only to wince at how rough those napkins felt against his nose. When he tried to speak, his sore throat interrupted his chances with a round of scratchy coughs.

“I’mb fide i’mb fide sdrrff sdrck ugh kofff koff koff! Ow!” When he finally regained some composure, he heard the sounds of cabinets opening and closing then a soft ‘thunk’. When he finally gets his eyes open, there’s a small box of tissues.

“Here, sure sounds like you’ll need’em, ain’t much but we can stop by the store and get some more.” Morgan offered. Nigel turned almost bright red, and hesitation filled him while he tried to get himself to apologize and insist it was nothing. Morgan wasn’t having it, though. He patted Nigel softly on the shoulder and rubbed his thumb against his collarbone in a comforting way as he assured him.

“Ey its fine, plenty of us get sick. We take care of so many of the sick civies who act like covering their mouth is an option that it's no surprise. Trust me, been sick plenty, no shame in it.” Finally, Nigel took the offer and snatched up a few tissues to clean up the remaining mess left behind and blow his nose. God, those tissues were shitty at containing it all. He tossed them into the trash and took a steady breath and sighed.

“Better?” Morgan asked, Nigel nodded.

When they hopped back into the cab of the ambulance, Morgan took the driver’s seat again and drove out of the lot.

“How long have you been sick?” He asked, Nigel shrugged, and muttered.

“Felt a lil bad last night.” Morgan raised a brow and asked what all that all meant and what he had been doing yesterday. Nigel thought about it.

“Just felt really tired, throat hurt a little, sdff sdrff but I thought it was just frob training and running calls, ya know. They had bme doing stair climb, forcible entry and hose work…hose work did idvolve gettig power washed though.” Morgan chuckled “Sounds like they had you working hard as hell. How long’s your shift?” “Uh 72hrs, its by last day of bmy shift.” Morgan nodded. “Good, you’re gonna really need the rest. How long ya off?” “48hr” “Ouch, if you’re not better by the start of 2nd day, call off, better to call off as early as ya can, better shot at them being able to bring in a replacement for the day.” Nigel nodded at the advice. “Sounds like a pretty bad cold. You take anything for it?” “Dnot since last dnight, took some Aleve for the soreness.” “You got a temperature?” “…..” Silence. Morgan sighed and shook his head. “You really are new, rookie mistake, not doing a supply run, hell ya could’ve doordashed some DayQuil, man!” Morgan didn’t actually seem angry; there was a slight smile and lightness to his voice as he drummed his thumbs on the wheel at the right light.

“We’re doing a supply run, ain’t having my favorite EMT die on me.” Nigel quickly tried to refuse, dismissing the ‘favorite emt’ comment.

“Dno dno its fide, I cad manage, there’s probably stuff in the bathrooms right?” Morgan laughed loudly this time and started driving again.

“Oh, you really don’t get it, do ya? I know these guys, that cabinet has more cobwebs than toothpaste, let alone an Advil! Sure in the emergency ‘West made dinner’ bag, there’s some Pepto and Advil, but that’s about it. I’ve been needing to stock up on our stuff anyway.”

“There are things to getting through a sick day or week at the station.” Morgan started. Nigel curled up in his seat as a chill ran down his spine.

“ 1: as soon as you start feeling like you got ran over by the ambulance, you DoorDash or go supply shopping, hell send someone out if ya got the rank, and well you don’t. 2: Don’t try a hot shower, you’ll never get the chance. You use a loophole and either heat up a pot on the stove or turn the shower on, but don’t get in it, let it heat fill the bathroom instead. 3:chicken noodle soup. Or ramen as much as you can make and eat, busy call day cup-o-noodles. 4: travel pack of tissues. Pack of tissues in one pocket, the other pocket is your ‘trash pocket’ till you can empty it, and 5: you tell one person, who won't tell the whole damn station. Gossip is more contagious than that cold you’ve got.”

Nigel nodded along as he listened. It was a lot to keep up with, but he’d sure try.

They pulled into a small store and went inside. It wasn’t anything special, just a little store that had the basics. First stop was the cold and flu aisle. Morgan grabbed a couple of boxes of tissues, more than Nigel at first thought was necessary, till morgan explained.

“That cold's gonna go around like wildfire, might as well get as many as I can now so I don’t gotta worry about it later.” Nigel went over and picked up a few travel pack boxes of tissues and dropped them into the cart. Morgan wandered over a few feet away and came back with multiple different pack and bottles of medicine. “Woah thats alot” Nigel commented. Morgan chuckled and set the items into the cart.

“Yeah, well, the guys tend to be lil babies around medicine. West hates liquid medicine so I get the gel pill form, Clayten would rather die than swallow pills, and Castle gets the worst fevers. The rest of them sort themselves out for the most part.” He then grabbed an Advil half and joked.

“This is the only thing getting me through it.”

Eventually, they left that aisle and started to head towards the soup aisle; however, Morgan suddenly stopped and turned the cart towards the main aisle.

“We’re gonna get a call soon, better pay for these now, we can come back for food later.” Nigel looked at him skeptically. Could someone really guess when they were about to get a call? “How do you know that?” He asked as Morgan started to speed walk towards checkout. “It happens every time.” The paramedic answered matter-of-factly.

Right as they started to load the front of the cab, as Morgan predicted, their phones went off. Nigel looked at it, and Morgan cursed. “Shit, trouble breathing, possible unresponsive.” They hopped into their seats, turned on their lights and sirens, and sped out of the parking lot.

From then on, they barely had the time to go back to the station until 6 PM. By then, Nigel was absolutely exhausted and wanted nothing more than to flop into bed. He dragged his feet into the station alongside Morgan, who carried in most of the groceries. They were met by the smell of taco night and the sound of the guys jeering at the TV that played jeopardy.

“We’re back!” Morgan called out. “Ey there you guys are, its been nothing but med calls today” Abel pointed out, Morgan nodded and handed a bag to Nigel and gently told him.

“Take those and go lay down for a bit, I’ll heat up some soup.” Nigel looked in the bag and nodded, but West wasn’t gonna let him get very far without some teasing. A heavy hand ruffled roughly through his sweaty brown hair. “Aw shit, Morgan must’ve worked you hard, you look like shit kid. Didn’t know ol morgan had it in’im” Nigel tried to walk off without a word, but Wes wasn’t done.

“Nuh-uh, rookie, you’re on dish duty, you know that.” Morgan pushed West’s hand off Nigel.

“No, he doesn’t, he’s going to go sit down. It won't kill you to stop dodging your chores yourself, Wes, you’ve ‘made trade’ with almost all of us and haven’t lived up to your end of the deal.” While the two went back and forth, Nigel tried to fight off the buzzing, burning, prickling sensation in his nose from the congestion shifting around when his nose got runny. He was way too tired; he rubbed and pressed lazily at his damp nostrils. When he knew it wouldn’t be any use, he pulled a few tissues from the box in the bag he had managed to open on the way to one of their patients.

He brought up a shaky handful of tissues to his face as he hitched and dove into them with an incredibly wet fit.

“ Hehh! Heh! Haah! hH’atzzZSChhihhww! HHUh!! HhEdssSCHHhheeoo! HhEdssSCHHhhemmmph! EHh!EdssSCHHhhuummmph!” Nigel grimaced as he felt the mess soak into his hand, but his poor sinuses finally felt just the hint of relief from getting it out. He didn’t even care anymore; he just grabbed more tissues to mop up what was in his hand and pressed more to his face as he announced. “I’mb goig to by roomb” and trudged out of the kitchen.

In his room, he kicked off his shoes and flopped onto the bed. He didn’t care that he’d be leaving in 2 hours; he just wanted to lie down. His whole body was killing him. His head pounded, his throat was raw, his bones and muscles ached horribly, and the relief of being off his feet was just a small bliss that he decided to accept as the only good thing he had right now. His sinuses throbbed from being so full, the underside of his nose burned from the constant rubbing, it was HELL!

Just the thought of getting up to pack his stuff to leave made him want to be knocked unconscious. Sure, he’d love to be in his own little apartment, in his own bed away from others, but he was worn out! He rolled onto his side and curled up on top of the covers, knowing he’d be cold no matter what, and he’d have to pack them up anyway.

When he rolled over the soft but still audible-for him- squeltch and squish of the congestion shifting and seeping down his sinuses and nose brought that tickle from earlier back, and his body was determined to get this cold out of him. He lazily pulled a few tissues to his twitching, tender red nostrils as he hitched towards sneezes that made a mess overflow the tissues and drip onto the bedding.

“HhEdssSCHHhheeoo!! HhEdssSCHHhhemmmmphh! Heh Hehh Hh! EdssSCHHhhmmph ugh fugkhih! atzzZSChhihhww!”

Nigel didn’t know how long it had really been til there was a knock on his door. He managed a rough, congested. “Cobe id”

Then Morgan’s gentle voice alerted him. “Hey I made some soup, I put it in some tupperware in case you weren’t in the mood to eat yet. You could take it home.” Nigel sat up slowly, his face scrunched at the movement and he sneezed almost immediately into his hands.

“Ugh, sorry, and thagks” He grabbed tissues to clean himself up again, after a harsh nose blow, he took the bowl of soup. Finally, he could get something on his stomach. The warmth of the soup spread throughout his core and ceased his chills as he ate.

“You did good today,” Morgan commented. Nigel looked up for a moment. Morgan laughed a little at the ‘huh’ look on his face.

“You did real well, sure you’re a lil clunky when ya first start with the patient, but you pulled through.” Nigel couldn’t tell if it was the soup or the compliments that made his cheeks feel hot Morgan outstretched his hand and pressed the back of it to Nigel’s forehead and tsk’d “I’ll handle most of the reports for today. You focus on getting some rest, I’ll text you the other ones you can do when you’re up for it.”

Nigel wanted to say he could do more than ‘afew’ but after today, he knew it was better to take the offer for a break.

2 days of being between 2 biohazards, of course, it was no surprise when Choso woke up with a sore throat and a stuffy nose, or well, runny and stuffy according to the liquid-sounding sniffles that could barely keep the mess from running down to his lips.

He shudders and curls up under the covers he shared with his boyfriends, who were already stirring awake. “Morning,” Satoru’s morning voice purrs in Choso’s ear as his arm slithers around his waist. There’s rustling on the other side of Choso, and Suguru sits up, pushing back his hair before stretching.

“Finally, can breathe through my nose.” He sighs, and Gojo nods with a slight cough. Choso, however, doesn’t come out from underneath the blankets. Gojo notices this and pulls Choso to him.

“I know you’re awake, Cho.” A whine escapes from Choso as he pulls to Gojo’s chest. As soon as any part of his body is exposed to the air, he shivers hard. His head feels dizzy, and he can’t help but lean his head into Gojo’s frame and curl up. Gojo’s eyes soften, and he wraps his arms around the older one. He could feel the heat seeping from Choso’s skin against his.

“Oh? Did our lil blood bunny get our cold~?” He teased, and the only reply he got was another series of sniffling. Suguru picked up on this and crawled over to them. A sympathetic smile painted his face, which quickly turned mischievous.

“Aw, poor thing, guess we’re gonna have to take care of our lil bunny.” Choso hears that hint of flirtiness in Geto’s voice and knows he’s done for. A set of hands ruffles Choso’s hair, a few strands flop down over his face, and he can feel them tickling the tip of his nose. That tickle gets stronger when he sniffles in his fruitless attempt, making his hair flutter oh so teasingly against the tip of his nose. His nose scrunches up and wriggles around, but that tickle runs through him fast. He doesn’t have the time to turn or pull away; instead.

“HEH! HhNGgsshhuhw!” A wet, messy sneeze is splattered against Gojo’s chest. When Choso’s eyes open, he sees the catastrophe he’s made. Varying cords and trails of snot connect to a large dark patch of Gojo’s shirt from his nose; some of the mess was still dripping down his face slowly. Choso’s face quickly turns bright red, and he tries blindly searching for the tissue box.

“Sorry, sorry, didn’t bmead to do that.” He apologizes, and a laugh rumbles from Gojo’s chest as he coos at him. He brought a hand to wrap the mess around his fingers and wipe the rest that hung from Choso’s nose onto his palm.

“Goodness, didn’t know you had that much in you, baby.” He turns his hand to show Choso all of that he had gathered, which only embarrassed the cursed being more.

“I dod’t like beig gross, ya know.” Choso huffs. This time, Suguru joins in, cupping Choso’s face as he postures up on his knees.

“Oh, but I don’t think you can help it, especially that cute lil nose of yours~” His voice is smooth and low, the way his fingers gently press against Choso’s cheeks and tilt his face makes it hard for him to hold eye contact.

“Your poor nose is so full of that awful cold, Satoru and I had, and you’re doing such a good job keeping it for us. I think it's only fair we help you with it.” A gentle kiss is pressed to the tip of Choso’s nose, and it takes the affection as an invitation. Another tickle sparks, making his lips part in a desperate gasp. His eyes go half lidded as his nose twitches and nostrils flare.

“Hiiih Heeehh!! Hey! Heehh.” When Choso tries to bring up his hands to try and catch the disaster he knows is coming, Gojo holds them down gingerly.

“Just let it out, its alright, Cho.” Choso’s build-ups are quick and hiccupy, eyes watering already. He lurches forward as the fit takes over.

“IhHt-!hhdsSCHHHhh!! IhHt-!hhdsSCHHHhh!! Huh! Hud’tt’shhhh!” The last one was much wetter than the first two, which were messier. Suguru cups his hand under Choso’s nose, drawing the nail of his thumb against one of his nostrils. Choso gasps sharply as the sensation of nostril flaring widely as if trying to get away from the other’s touch. Suguru’s sweet voice was tempting Choso’s nose into submission. “That’s it, baby, let it all out. I know it tickles so much, doesn’t it?” Choso couldn’t even answer besides a half-attempted warning that got interrupted.

“I-i’mb godda godda ssdeehhHt-!hhdsSCHHHhh!! HhNGgsshhuhw! HhNGgsshhuhw!” Warm snot pours from both nostrils into Geto’s hand. He pinches at the thinning strings and pulls his hand away.

“Bless you! My my my, you really caught the worst of it, huh?” Geto comments, the rims of Choso’s nose are already turning a pinkish red. He was pulled into a kiss first by Geto, then by Gojo. The soft feeling of their lips on his own was heavenly, even if the thoughts in the back of his mind were saying, ‘I don’t want them to get sick again.’ he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Only when his body demanded air did he lean away.

He was still in Gojo’s arms when the white-haired man mentioned taking cold medicine. Choso grumbled, and his face twisted with disgust.

“That stuff tastes awful.” “Hm, would you take it if I made it less awful?” Gojo asked. Choso raised a brow at this question. Gojo gestures for him to scoot off his lap for a second while he reaches for the liquid medicine on the nightstand. Choso watches him uncap and take a mouthful of it, but he doesn’t swallow it.

“What are you-” But he doesn’t get to finish his question, with Gojo pressing him into a deep kiss. With the sudden surprise, Choso’s mouth opens, and Gojo pushes the mouthful of medicine into his. Even at the awful taste of chemical cherry liquid, he lets it fill his mouth till he has to pull back and swallow it. He panted between swallows, his nose still dripped. He tried to wipe it up himself, but his nose had started to become touch-sensitive around the edges of his nostrils. He hissed at the sting but shuddered as the tickle came back with not enough time for a warning. He could only bring up his hands and lurched into them with a fit.

“HhNGgsshhuhw! Heh! HhNGgsshhuhw! IhHt-!hhdsSCHHHhh!! Heeh! IhHt-!hhdsSCHHHhh!! Ugh,” He pulled his hands away with a congested sigh. Satoru immediately started to laugh, which confused Choso.

“What is it?” “Oh, you really are precious lil disaster when you’re sick, dripping down your face, must’ve felt better huh~?” Choso looked down to see strings of mess slowly but surely dripping down to his hands. He bit back a shriek and tried to clean himself up with his hands while muttering ‘gross gross gross gross gross,’ But as soon as he rubbed the back of his hand against his nostrils again, he triggered another snz, this one much more urgent and messy.

"HhNNnGggsshhuuuhw!"

He splattered mess across his hand and off the sides; it definitely sounded rough, too, with how it scraped up the sides of his throat. Geto came over with the cuff of his sleeve to clean him up. Gingerly dabbing at the reddened, tender skin of Choso’s nose.