#hicfic

Whether they've read/watched them or not, a lot of people are probably familiar with Agätha Chrístie's Hércule Poírot mysteries. This is still an unhinged fanfic choice, though, because Poírot himself isn't the main character of this fic. Instead, I'm writing about Inspector Crome, a one-off character that my actor played in an audio drama adaptation of a Poírot mystery called The ABC Mürders. In that story, Crome has the classic "Officer Who's Annoyed about Having to Work with the Famous Detective" role, but while he has a definite chip on his shoulder and argues a lot with Poírot about how to conduct the case, he comes around to a grudging respect for Poírot by the end and says he wants to work together again. So my fic imagines that they've been investigating cases together for several months now. Crome has mellowed further toward Poírot but can still be cranky/defensive about things.

Here are the characters (only Poírot has an image since, again, this was for an audio drama):

Inspector Crome - The youngest inspector at Scotland Yard. Intelligent and hardworking, but he can be set in his ways and has to be coaxed to think outside the box. He has a more working-class background than most men at the Yard, and he regularly deals with classist insinuations that maybe he didn't deserve his promotion. So while his pride can be in the way of his work, it's largely because he always feels like he has to prove himself.

Hércule Poírot - Famous Belgian detective. He's ostensibly retired now, but he can't give up investigating entirely, and he sometimes consults with the Yard on their cases. In my fic, Crome is now his preferred inspector to work with--even though there can still be friction between them, Crome knows Poírot better than most inspectors at the Yard, so Poírot feels comfortable with him.

Superintendent Stone - The head of Scotland Yard. Contributes a lot to Crome's need to prove himself, especially when he unfavorably compares Crome to Poírot.

And with that, here's the fic!

Eight days into the investigation, they had yet to catch Mary Ryland’s killer. Inspector Crome had favored the boyfriend at first, but that hadn’t panned out. Now, he and Poírot both suspected Arthur Bridges, the poor girl’s piano instructor. However, they’d not yet found the proof they needed to bring him in for good. Either the music teacher was more cunning than Crome had anticipated, or this was leading to another dead end and they’d have to start again.

Given what an important family the Rylands were, Superintendent Stone was getting impatient. He’d called Crome and Poírot into Scotland Yard to bring him up to speed on the facts of the case. “In other words,” Poírot had remarked drolly, “to poke at our progress and ask why we’ve not solved it yet.”

“Yeah, just about,” Crome had replied, forcing a smile as his stomach had clenched with a brief fit of nerves. Stone was a good man and a fine superintendent, but he had a way of making Crome constantly feel like he was back in school doing exams—like he was always on the verge of washing out and one misstep would send him tumbling down.

And if that happened? Crome could just imagine the chatter, all the snatches of conversations that would fade out as he walked by.

Good of the superintendent to give him a go—not his fault some people just aren’t cut out for it.

I always knew the Mabel Homer case was a fluke.

Glad to see him back in his proper place. Oh, he’s capable, maybe, but he’s just not “our sort.”

Of course, these days, it was comments about how Crome was riding Poírot’s coattails, scraping by on the famous detective’s talent and not his own. Let them talk—Crome didn’t care. (Well, he tried not to care.) Anyone at the Yard would be wise to listen to Poírot’s insights, and working with him was making Crome a better inspector: sharpening his reasoning, honing the sort of questions that yielded results, cooling his urge to hold tight to his first suspect when the evidence wasn’t bearing out.

He reminded himself that all those things mattered more than the comments, and some days, he even got to the point where they didn’t bother him.

But this morning, it was all about Mary Ryland. “What about that Palmer chap?” Superintendent Stone was asking. “I thought they’d been seen quarreling the day before the murder.”

“They had,” Crome explained, “but—”

“And he has no alibi,” the super added.

“Right—” Crome conceded.

“Nathaniel Palmer could not have killed Mary Ryland,” Poírot broke in smoothly, “not in this way. The medical examiner’s report shows that Miss Ryland was struck by someone much taller than Mr. Palmer.”

“He’s got asthma as well,” Crome put in. “It’s not likely he could’ve worked up the exertion you’d need for an attack like that.”

“Hmmm,” Stone murmured. “I don’t have to tell you about the tongue-lashing we’re getting in the press over all this.”

“No, sir,” Crome said, holding back a slight grimace.

“Mary Ryland was 19,” the superintendent went on. “Well-connected family, bright girl. She had her whole future ahead of her.”

“We know,” Crome admitted. As he shifted in his chair, he hiccupped, a quiet “*hllp!*” in the back of his throat. He cleared his throat self-consciously, but neither the super nor Poírot seemed to take any notice.

“I know Walter Ryland,” Stone said. “We’ve gone to the same club for years.”

With a quiet nod, Crome hiccupped again. He felt his head and shoulders give a small jerk, but it was completely silent this time.

“I didn’t know Mary well, of course, but it’s a terrible blow to the family…”

“*hmmph!*” Oh, hell—not now. This was the last thing Crome needed. Trying to be discreet, he crossed his arms and rubbed his mouth like he was in thought. Hopefully, it would keep Superintendent Stone from noticing that he was holding his breath.

The super was still speaking. “What I’m saying is that this is personal,” Stone told Crome and Poírot. “As both of you well know, the full resources of Scotland Yard are behind this case. I expect results on this.”

“Of course, superintendent,” Poírot replied. “I promise, we will not fail you.”

“Is that right?” Stone asked, giving Crome a stern look.

Nothing for it—Crome let his breath out. “Yes, sir-*rrk!*”

Dammit! He muffled the hiccup as well as he could behind his hand.

Crome’s only small spot of luck was that Stone seemed too preoccupied to notice. “Right then, this music teacher,” the superintendent urged. “Tell me everything you’ve got so far.”

Oh, god. Crome swallowed another silent hiccup. “Er, right,” he mumbled.

On the one hand, he knew it was an accomplishment to be the youngest inspector at Scotland Yard, and Crome was rightly proud of that. But in situations like this when he was summoned by the superintendent, the other inspectors ribbed him like he’d been called to the head teacher’s office. If word got out that he’d laid out the case while hiccupping like a bloody schoolboy, he’d never live it down.

And the super? What would he make of it? Probably read it as proof that Crome wasn’t taking the case seriously—maybe even that he was making light of it—even though the hiccups were something Crome very clearly couldn’t control.

But as Crome prepared to embarrass himself, letting out a slow exhale through his nose and muffling a “*hmmph!*” behind his tightly-closed mouth, Poírot said, “Yes, superintendent. Let us begin with what we know so far of Arthur Bridges’s movements on the day of the murder.”

With a flood of relief, Crome sank back into his chair. Finally, Poírot’s love for the sound of his own voice was working in his favor. While the detective described the timeline they’d been piecing together, Crome crossed his arms, as if he could keep the hiccups inside by holding on tight to them. He pressed his knuckles against his mouth.

All told, he made a decent job of it. Crome managed to keep most of the hiccups silent, and any audible ones that escaped were limited to a muffled “*hllk!*” or “*mmph!*”, as well as the occasional hitch that sounded more than anything like an odd inhalation through his nose. 

Try as he might, he couldn’t hide the way they were making his body jerk, but fortunately, Stone was listening closely enough to Poírot that he didn’t seem to be paying any mind to Crome’s predicament. It helped that the detective had gotten out of his chair and was pacing round the room as he talked, occasionally stopping to pick up an object on the superintendent’s desk or examine one of the photographs on the wall.

All the while, he kept talking. As much as Crome had come to respect the aging sleuth, he did think Poírot could be quite the old showboat, but today, it was music to his ears. “*llp!*” he hiccupped, the quiet noise easily hidden beneath Poírot’s detailed observations.

The detective paused, turning to Stone’s secretary sitting in the corner of the room. As Poírot murmured something to her, Edith nodded briskly. She rose to her feet and slipped out of the room.

Edith was equal parts efficient and inconspicuous—she always was—and in the quiet of this brief interlude, a “*hmmph!*” worked its way out of Crome. He bit back a cringe as the superintendent looked his way. “Something to add, inspector?”

“No, sir,” Crome replied quickly, then clamped his mouth shut again. Once he’d quieted the next hiccup that made his head snap back, he hastily added, “I know not to interrupt Poiro-- when he’s on a roll.”

Crome could feel a flush spreading up his neck, and he forced himself not to grimace. Although that last hiccup was entirely silent, it had put a slight hitch in his speech.

“I’m afraid the inspector is quite correct,” Poírot remarked with easy good humor. “I do love a good…eh, what is the word for it in English? When an actor is onstage, making a speech to the audience?”

“Soliloquy?” the super offered.

“Ah, precisely,” Poírot said. “Inspector Crome is kind enough to let me go on. So with that, I shall resume my soliloquy. Now that we have examined Mr. Bridges’s whereabouts on the fourth of September, let us turn to motive. What could have driven him to kill a promising pupil like Mary Ryland…?”

As Poírot continued, Crome let himself relax the tiniest bit. He still felt self-conscious and tense, but at least he could take solace in the detective drawing all the attention in the room. Crome muffled an “*rrk!*” behind his knuckles, wishing he could just get the damn hiccups to stop already. Not even Poírot could talk forever, and anyway, it wouldn’t look good if he sat there twiddling his thumbs while Poírot explained everything—it really would look like Crome was just riding his coattails then.

Edith ducked quietly back into the room, and Crome felt a pang of envy as she handed Poírot a tall glass of water.” “Merci, mademoiselle,” Poírot said with a polite nod of his head. “I understand this theory may seem implausible to you, Superintendent Stone. After all, Mr. Bridges is quite respected for his skill as a teacher! How could he have been showing an inappropriate level of attention to one of his students? However, what we have found may surprise you…”

Crome winced as a hard silent hiccup stuck in his throat. Water—that’s what he really needed. Poírot wasn’t even drinking his, just idly holding the glass while he talked. Crome glanced at Edith, who’d settled back into her chair by the corner. He wouldn’t want to risk asking aloud for her to fetch another glass. Maybe he could slip her a note? But Crome was on the wrong side of the room for that. He’d have to get up and step round Poírot to get over to her, and he didn’t want to do anything that would draw Stone’s eye back to him. Miserably, he held in another “*mmph!*”

“Furthermore, I am most intrigued by the small gift box that was swept away with the rubbish from the drawing room after the party that evening,” Poírot continued. As he spoke, he wandered in Crome’s direction. “No one in the household knew of any such gift, or what the box had contained. This was the same room where Miss Ryland had her music lesson with Mr. Bridges, only a few hours before the party. Could it have been a gift to her from him?”

Poírot was standing in front of Crome now, between him and Superintendent Stone. Without so much as a glance at Crome, the detective suddenly pressed the glass of water into his hand. Startled, Crome looked at Poírot in surprise, and he only just remembered to clench his mouth shut against the strong “*hpp!*” that slipped out of him.

“I confess, I find it most curious,” Poírot admitted. “What was the gift, and why does there seem to be no trace of it? What became of it? I believe these discoveries could prove an enormous help in our investigation.”

Crome looked down at the water. Poírot knew. Of course he did—he’d probably spotted straightaway that Crome had gotten the hiccups and was in a fix. Crome felt a rush of embarrassment at having been caught out, but it was outweighed by his gratefulness for the water.

So as Poírot meandered to the opposite end of the room, drawing the super’s attention along with him, Crome got straight to work. He waited for his next muffled “*hllk!*” to pass, then began to take small sips of water without stopping. By the time he reached the bottom of the glass, he was bursting for breath, but Crome made himself exhale slowly, warily keeping his lips pressed together while he waited.

So far, so good. Crome drew a slow breath in and out through his nose, then another—no hiccups. It looked like the bloody things were finally gone.

“This is everything we know,” Poírot explained to Stone. “As you can see, superintendent, there is much we’ve already determined, but there are crucial pieces of the puzzle still missing.” He raised his eyebrows to Crome in a silent question, his gaze flitting for a moment to the empty glass. Crome gave a sheepish nod.

“Inspector, would you care to go over our unanswered questions?” Poírot suggested casually. “I know you’ve been keeping an account of them.”

So that was it. Poírot’s showboating hadn’t merely worked out in Crome’s favor this time. It had been on his behalf, the old detective taking the reins to hold Stone’s attention and save Crome from having to speak until he’d had a chance to deal with the hiccups.

Crome stifled a sigh—every time he thought he’d given the sleuth sufficient credit, Poírot had to go and up the stakes once more. It could be infuriating at times, but it was damn impressive too, and in this instance, Crome was hardly in a position to complain.

“Right, yeah,” he said, nodding again. A bit awkwardly, he set down the glass, then flipped his notepad open to his running list of questions. “Erm, Poírot already mentioned the empty gift box in the drawing room. That’s top of our list. It was just the right size for jewelry, and if we’re right that it came from Arthur Bridges, that would be, er, quite an intimate gift for a young woman from her piano teacher…”

The hiccups had really rattled Crome, but now that they were gone, his earlier worries about being called before the super felt much more manageable. Consulting his case notes, he found it was easy enough to take Stone through the gaps that he and Poírot still needed to fill in the investigation: the gift box, that span of nearly an hour where Bridges’s whereabouts were unaccounted for, the figure one of the servants had heard going out the back door a little after 9:00 pm, and so on.

Before he knew it, the superintendent was shaking both of their hands, saying, “Keep up the good work. I want the devil brought to justice.”

Feeling more confident now, Crome looked Stone in the eye as he nodded. “We’ll see it done, sir.” 

“Now if you’ll excuse us, superintendent, we have a busy day ahead of us,” Poírot added. “We’ll be sure to keep you informed of any breaks in the case.”

“Call anytime, day or night,” the super replied, walking with them to the door. “I want to know the moment you get our man.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Crome promised.

When he and Poírot stepped into the hall, Crome let out a deep breath, as if he was exhaling the last of his nerves from his body. “Thanks for the hand, Poírot,” he conceded in a low voice. “With, er, with the water—and everything.”

“Ah, think nothing of it,” Poírot said with an indifferent wave of his hand. “They are an odd little affliction: more inconvenient than harmful, but if they appear at the wrong time? They can be most troublesome.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me,” Crome mumbled. He slipped his notepad back into his trouser pocket and smoothed down his suit, ready to put the awkward business behind him. “I was thinking. You know how we were wanting to meet some of Bridges’s other students, feel out if he’d tried anything funny with someone else? Well, didn’t Mrs. Ryland say they were gonna be doing a recital in Mary’s honor?”

“Yes, tomorrow evening,” Poírot noted. “A fine idea, inspector. We’ll have an opportunity to observe how the other young ladies behave in his presence, identify those who might have useful information for us.”

Right,” Crome replied. He frowned in thought. “Would they talk to us, though? About something, you know, delicate?” Even under normal circumstances, interviews weren’t his strongest suit, and while Poírot had a way of charming information out of people, Crome wasn’t so sure of the sleuth’s ability to handle this one.

And Poírot, it seemed, agreed. “Mmm, a fair point,” he murmured. “Perhaps we could invite your friend Constable Lewis to accompany us? After all, she is a young lady herself, and if any of the students have something discreet to reveal about Arthur Bridges, they may feel more comfortable opening up to her.”

As usual, Crome had come up with an idea and Poírot had topped it. Sometimes that could needle at him, but he couldn’t argue about it today. Not when Poírot had saved Crome’s backside with the super and then did him the courtesy of not harping on it. Not when they needed to solve this case and any good idea was a welcome one.

“But come,” Poírot urged. “That is tomorrow evening, and there is much to do before then. We have work to do, inspector. On y va!”

TeIemachus slowly fluttered his eyes open, his senses quickly getting overwhelmed by the scent of breakfast being cooked. He groaned as he slowly sat up with a yawn and a stretch. Rubbing his eyes with his fist, he removed the covers from his body, instantly shivering from the cold February air.

Quickly, he grabbed his fuzzy purple house coat, wrapping it around himself. He headed to the bathroom, taking care of his business, before going to investigate what was going on in the kitchen.

“Dori?” His voice rasped as it normally did in the mornings.

The person in question startled and turned around, trying to hide the stove from view.

“Telly! My love! What…what are you doing up? So early?” Dorian squeaked, visibly holding up a spatula, but hid it behind their back once they realized.

TeIemachus couldn't help but giggle slightly at the sight, petting Copper's head when she'd trotted over to him. 

“I just woke up,” TeIemachus shrugged, brushing his hair back, “what're you up to?”

“I was gonna surprise you,” Dorian slumped and pouted.

“Oh, sorry,” TeIemachus smiled sheepishly. He walked over, hugging them, “you're cooking? Without burning the apartment down?”

“Shut up,” Dorian gently nudged him teasingly, kissing his cheek, “good morning, sunshine.”

“Morning, blue,” TeIemachus smiled and softly kissed their lips. “Sorry for kinda ruining your surprise.”

“Hey, don't worry about it,” Dorian smirked and pecked his lips, “breakfast isn't the only surprise I have in store for you.”

“Oh?” TeIemachus raised an eyebrow, stroking their arm, “well, what else do you have in store for me?”

“Well, that would really ruin the surprise, wouldn't it?” Dorian booped TeIemachus’ nose.

“Mmm, I guess you're right,” TeI shrugged, then sniffed softly, “oh, might wanna check on that breakfast-”

Dorian's face fell, “shit!” They turned to flip over the pancake just in time.

TeIemachus sat down at the breakfast bar, using his phone as a means for distraction so he didn't distract his partner again. Dorian placed the plate of red velvet pancakes that were somewhat heart shaped. They were decorated with whipped cream and sliced strawberries. Only then did it seem to register in TeIemachus’ mind.

“Happy Valentine's Day!” He shouted.

Dorian chuckled, “there you go, sweetie.” They wrapped their arms around him, “Happy Valentine's Day to you too.”

Tel leaned into their hug with a smile. How could he not realize it was one of his favorite holidays ever since he started dating Dorian.

Every year, they would alternate planning dates for each other, and this year was Dorian's turn. TeIemachus loved spoiling Dorian, but also enjoyed being spoiled by Dorian. And judging by the smug grin on Dorian's face while they were eating off their own plate, TeIemachus could tell this year was bound to be a great celebration.

Usually, Dorian didn't bother with Valentine's Day. They'd always thought it was another way to get people separated from their money. It was too commercialized and there was always too much pressure to perform. They always felt bad for the people who were grieving lost loved ones or the single people out there. To an extent, he still did feel bad for them. But since dating TeIemachus, he'd seen Valentine's Day in a new light. There wasn't much pressure to please because whatever they planned, TeIemachus enjoyed it. It didn't have to be a big extravagant thing.

However, this year was different.

Once breakfast was done, Dorian and TeIemachus went up to get dressed for the day. Dorian picked out a cute pink outfit. Black top with a black cardigan over it, long pink pleated skirt, a pink choker, and a pink beret. (Ever since that trip to the mall for Riddy's birthday years ago, they'd made sure to buy plenty of skirts and dresses since they were comfortable in them.) TeIemachus wore a red outfit. He was layered with a white tee shirt, gray zipped-up jacket, and a red zip-up hoodie that remained unzipped. He threw on some black jeans and styled his hair in the mirror, putting the top half in a ponytail. He put on his piercings and sat on the bed, waiting for Dorian to finish.

“You go ahead, Telly, I'll be right there,” Dorian assured him as they went through their jewelry box to search for the perfect gauge earrings to pick.

“Oh, I don't mind waiting,” TeIemachus shrugged and swung his legs back and forth innocently.

“Copper needs to be fed,” Dorian said, turning to his boyfriend, “you mind going down and feeding her?”

TeIemachus gasped dramatically, instantly standing up, “are you trying to starve our baby?”

“No, that's why I told you,” Dorian smirked.

TeIemachus shook his head and hurried out the door. Dorian sighed in relief before pulling out the black ring box that was hidden in their underwear drawer. They opened it up and smiled at the beautiful silver ring with a diamond in the middle. On the inside, it said ‘♡ for forever -D’ in fancy lettering. It was engraved by none other than their guncle Otto, who had freaked out about the news. They both kind of squealed over the idea of a proposal. Smiling at the memory, they quickly hid the box in the inner pocket of their cardigan.

Looking into the mirror, they took a breath, “you've got this, Dorian.”

They nodded to themself before heading to the kitchen. They smiled at witnessing TeIemachus giving Copper some much deserved tummy rubs after she'd eaten her second breakfast.

“Hey,” Dorian greeted with a wave.

“Oh, hey!” TeIemachus beamed, “you look amazing.”

Dorian blushed and smirked, “only second to you, Tel.”

TeIemachus stood up and walked over to Dorian, “careful, I might just ruin your makeup with words like that.”

“What? Mess up this lipstick? It's smear-proof,” Dorian smirked and kissed TeIemachus's lips to prove it, “see?”

“I do,” Tel grabbed them by the collar of their cardigan, “but just to make sure.”

He kissed Dorian again, gently guiding them to the counter, wrapping his arms around their waist.

Before the two of them could get too distracted, Dorian's alarm rang, meaning it was time to go so they wouldn't be late.

Their first stop was a spa treatment. Mani-pedis and a deep tissue massage kept them both relaxed and refreshed. While TeIemachus had chosen a clear nail polish for his nails, Dorian went for a pink and red alternating pattern.

Next was lunch at TeIemachus’ favorite restaurant: Gyros n’ More. Tel enjoyed himself a delicious gyro while Dorian just ordered a salad, saving their appetite for the dinner they had planned.

After a lovely lunch, Dorian and TeIemachus went back to the apartment, leashed up Copper, and together, they all took a walk around the park near the apartment. TeIemachus had his arm looped into Dorian's as he rested his head on their shoulder. Dorian held onto the leash as Copper happily trotted along, smelling new smells as she styled her cute little sweater.

And then it was time for dinner. Dorian had taken TeIemachus to a fancy Chinese restaurant that had some famous chef's name written all over it. They got to their table and sat across from each other in a smaller booth. Everything was going according to plan and Tel didn't suspect a thing.

They ordered their food, Dorian getting a Sichuan Boiled Fish and TeIemachus getting classic chicken tenders. Dorian playfully teased him for it, making them both laugh.

Their food arrived rather quickly despite it being crazy busy due to the holiday.

TeIemachus and Dorian traded food to taste, however TeIemachus was unprepared for how spicy Dorian's meal was.

“Oh, Telly, I'm so sorry,” Dorian frowned and handed him some of their water.

TeIemachus coughed and took the water, gulping it down with tearful eyes. The water didn't stop the burning in his throat.

“It's so huck! hot!” TeIemachus cried as he fanned himself, holding his tongue out. “How can you hulp! eat that?”

Dorian took a little more than a second to respond to the question, “uh, I dunno, guess I'm just used to the heat. You, um…you okay?”

TeIemachus whimpered as he wiped his tear-filled eyes, “yeah, yeah, total-hlk!-ly…huck!-uh, feels like I'm dy-hingk! dying from fire hup!-augh!”

Dorian felt blood flowing to their cheeks as well as other places when they'd noticed TeIemachus’ continued hiccups. It had been months since his last hiccup. It had been a single, so not a full blown case. Still, they were shocked at this revelation.

As TeIemachus started to choke, hiccups firing off after every cough, Dorian shook his head free of distractions and called the waiter over. They requested some milk or ice cream to help alleviate the heat.

“Telly?” Dorian's voice cracked, so they cleared it, “you doing okay? The, um, the waiter's going to get you some ice cream or milk or something to help.”

TeIemachus nodded, his head jolting back with another hiccup. “Goo-ulk!-good. That was s-hip!-so ho-ock!-uh, hot hup'k! It ga--gave me the hic-HICK!-uh, hiccups.”

Dorian's eyes widened at their boyfriend's smirk. TeIemachus knew exactly what he was doing. The waiter returned with a dish of vanilla ice cream. TeIemachus thanked him before quickly scooping the cold treat into his mouth and letting it sit on his tongue.

Dorian observed the now muffled hiccups that were making Tel jump in his seat. They bit the bottom of their lip as their leg bounced.

He squeaked though when they felt TeIemachus grab their leg, take his sandal off, and put his foot right against his stomach. The next couple of jolts sent pulses of pleasure through them and Dorian had to hold back their vocal chords.

TeIemachus smiled, despite still feeling the heat, “m-mk!-might as well-hickulk! take advantage w--while we can hngkolp!”

TeIemachus scooped up some more ice cream and placed it into his mouth, relishing the coldness hitting his tongue.

Dorian was quite speechless as every word he tried to say caught in his throat in helpless whimpers.

TeIemachus’ hiccups remained, even after the dinner was over and the two of them were enjoying one last walk around the park. Dorian held onto Tel's hand as they walked, observing the way he'd started muffling his hiccups and looking around if one accidentally slipped out. 

“Gosh, you're adorable like this,” Dorian whispered and kissed his cheek.

TeIemachus blushed, “shut hmk'mm! up.”

“Hehe, what? No more teasing?” Dorian smirked, but seeing TeIemachus’ tired expression gave them all the answer they needed. “Ah, they've overstayed their welcome.”

TeIemachus nodded, the action interrupted by a hard “holk!” that made him wince and rub at his chest. Dorian gently moved to rub his stomach, trying to ease the pain. TeIemachus smiled slightly in appreciation, “tha–anks, hun.”

“Of course,” Dorian kissed his forehead.

“M'sorry hulmpk! these aren't fu-uck!-fun anym-hup!-uh, anymore heekolp!” TeIemachus frowned, now covering his mouth.

“Don't you worry your pretty little head about that,” Dorian shook his head.

As they continued walking, Dorian noted they were getting closer to The Spot. TeIemachus' hiccups still hadn't let up. Dorian was getting anxious about what they'd set out to do. What if TeIemachus thought it was too soon? What if he said no? What if he broke up with them because of this? What if-

“HUP!HUCK!HICKUH!”

TeIemachus's eyes widened in shock as he turned to Dorian. “Dori-hick!?”

“So-HAUK!-gmmp!-ugh, scu-ickup!-scuse m-hm'mp!hmp!HIMPK!-gee--eez,” Dorian patted their own chest at the quicker than usual onslaught.

It was the nerves, of course it was. They were surprised the hiccups hadn't started earlier.

“Did you just hup! give yourse--elf h-hiccups through shee-heegulk!-sheer wil-hlk!-uh, willpower?” TeIemachus raised an eyebrow.

“Di-hick!HIUP!-didn't wan-HICK'ul!-want you hup!KUP! feeling a-HAULP!-gah, alone. hick!-ah-HIP!HU'UCK!HICK!-fu--ck!” Dorian couldn't even joke around with these. Usually, they found the spontaneity of their hiccups to be fun. But now that they'd arrived at The Spot, he needed to get rid of them so he could say words.

The Spot was at a gazebo lit up with fairy lights with a pond nearby. The crickets could be heard harmonizing their chirps. Fireflies lit up the pond as well.

At his next “HIGGOLP!-HUCK'L!HIMPK!-ugh,” Dorian requested a break to sit for a while. TeIemachus of course accepted and they both took a seat, hiccups popping out of both of them, Dorian's faster than TeIemachus’, but neither of them were racing.

Dorian offered TeIemachus to feel their hiccups. They were in a private enough area and if any stragglers walked over, a chest or tummy rub to “ease discomfort” was normal enough.

They were stronger than usual, TeIemachus noticed. Every rise of their chest was sharp and sounded like it knocked the wind out of them. He started rubbing their chest.

“You n-ngk!-need to cur-huerk!-cure these,” TeIemachus said.

“No HOUP!HUG'K!ulk!-mm que-HIUP!-mph-hm'MULK!-uh,” Dorian abandoned whatever they were going to say and held their breath.

TeIemachus watched curiously, muffling his own hiccups in the process. His foot was steadily tapping on the wooden floor of the gazebo. He watched as the hiccups continued, muffled, but still loud and strong. TeIemachus furrowed his brows in confusion. Holding their breath always cured Dorian.

Dorian looked just as concerned when they exhaled with a huff when he couldn't hold it anymore. Not even a second later, another cluster hit them and Dorian dragged a hand down his face.

“This is hup'k! not how I hickup!hickULP!-uh want--ted this to--o go HULP!UP!HU'UP!…HEEK!-ugh!” Dorian slumped, immediately jolting straight up with another strong hiccup.

“Aw, hon-nk!,” TeIemachus frowned and pulled them in closer to comfort them, “I'm still-ilk! having a goo-hoolk!-good time with y--ou, hic-kulp!-s or not.”

Dorian huffed, then hiccupped, then groaned in frustration, “I don't hup!HUP!-grmp!-ugh, want t--nglk!ULP!-uff, to have hauk!hulp'k!IP!HICKOLP!-ughhhh-holp!-hh the hiccups right n--gmp!-now.”

“Well that's a fir-hulgk!-first,” TeIemachus stroked their hair, “I wonder why hold--ing your breath didn't work-uck!”

“Nerves,” Dorian bit their lip and looked away from TeIemachus's eyes.

“You're nerv-uck!-nervous?” TeIemachus caressed his cheek and guided their face to look at his. “Dori, it's ok--kay, it's ju-ulk!-just you and hickulk! me.”

“I-huck!hup!HIUP!-I kn-hngk!-know, jus-s'hippup!-just HOLP!-” they sighed, their dual-colored eyes looking into TeIemachus's worried brown ones.

It was now or never, Dorian decided and pulled out the ring box from the hidden pocket in their cardigan. TeIemachus spotted the ring box and his eyes widened. He covered his mouth with both hands and started trembling as his eyes watered.

“Dorian…”

“I, um hickup! had this hip!HU'UH!-uh, all-hu'gulk! planned out HULP! You see-heek!ULP!, we're b--by the wa-hauk!UP!hi'auk!-uh-hip!-the water,” Dorian took an interrupted breath before continuing, “I was hickup!ULP! go-hing to use my hmmk! powers to spe--spell hickulk!HOLP! out ‘will h'kcup!hilp!HOLP!-ugh, will you hoolk! marry me?’ us-ing! the wa--aulk!-” they swallowed as that particular one almost choked them, “water, but I can't hic'KUP!HUUUP!-uhhh, use my pow-w'hip!hick!houp!-powers while I'm hiccup-ULP!-ing like this, so-hock!holp!…I guess hip'KUH!huck!HU’UH!-”

TeIemachus interrupted them with a sniffling nod and a kiss on their lips. Dorian's eyes widened with so much joy before they closed. He kissed him back, placing a hand in his hair. They pulled him in closer, their breaths synchronizing. Dorian smiled into the kiss, gently pulling away, “is that a yes?”

TeIemachus sniffled and nodded his head, giggling, “yes, obviously yes! I would love to marry you! I love you so much!”

“I love you so much too,” Dorian smiled widely and hugged TeIemachus close.

TeIemachus hugged them back, happy tears still flowing down his face. Dorian's eyes were quick to follow.

After they released their hug, Dorian opened the ring box, showing TeIemachus the ring and the engraving on the inside. TeIemachus couldn't stop smiling as Dorian put it on his finger.

He squealed, “it's the perfect fit. And it's beautiful, Dori, I love it, I love you.”

TeIemachus cupped their face and pulled them in for another soft kiss. Dorian kissed back, smiling happily.

They were getting married! This was becoming real!

“I promised guncle Otto a pic,” Dorian sniffled and wiped a tear–but not his eyeliner, that was waterproof.

TeIemachus chuckled wetly, “gosh, I know I look a mess. How are you still so perfect?”

Dorian giggled and pulled out his phone, “you still look perfect to…me, wait…”

Their eyebrows furrowed a bit and TeIemachus caught on, “oh my gosh…our hiccups…they're gone!”

“Which means I can do…this!” 

With a little effort and concentration, he used the water from the nearby pond and spelled out the words ‘Will you marry me?’ Dorian smiled at TeIemachus, who smiled back.

“That's incredible, Dorian,” TeIemachus rested his head on their shoulder, arms wrapped around their arm. “The answer's still yes, by the way.”

“I know,” Dorian chuckled and kissed his forehead. “Now, I know the perfect backdrop for our- oh, wait…meh, it's guncles Otto and Atticus, they can handle it. I trust them.”

“And if they can't, we could always say we edited the pic to had water-like words,” TeIemachus suggested.

Dorian chuckled and nodded, kissing his cheek. The two of them posed, TeIemachus making sure the ring was in the frame. They took two selfies, first without the water and the other with the water spelling out ‘HE SAID YES!’

After sending the latter selfie to their extended found family, Dorian and TeIemachus started to head home.

“Y'know,” TeIemachus spoke up and Dorian hummed in acknowledgement, “both of us h-hiccupping at the same time like that was kinda fun. I didn't even mind mine staying that long after you started, to be honest because you were hiccupping with me.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Dorian nodded, “maybe we could try it again sometime, maybe without the hiccups caused by nervousness. Those…kinda sucked.” They cringed.

“Aw, I understand,” TeIemachus squeezed their hand, “when you couldn't cure them, that right there worried me.”

“Ah, no need to worry about that. I'm sure if they were caused by any other thing, I'm sure I could've cured them.” Dorian reassured him.

“Nonetheless, you're definitely getting some chest and tummy massages when we get home,” TeIemachus smiled.

“Ah, a man after my own heart,” Dorian dramatically placed a hand on their chest, “true love is real!”

TeIemachus chuckled and stopped walking, taking Dorian's other hand so he was holding both hands. He leaned down and kissed Dorian's lips again, meaningful and passionate. Dorian kissed him right back, their thumb feeling the ring on TeIemachus's finger.

They knew from this day forward, they would be by each other's sides.

Roók has a problem.

To be specific, Roók has a multitude of problems. This one isn't her biggest. It doesn't even break the top ten. Top twenty, maybe. But it's a frustrating, embarrassing problem, and it's bothering her far more than it has any right to.

The problem is this: she has the hiccups.

Well, the hiccups alone don't constitute the problem. They're a problem, but the whole problem is that she keeps getting them.

Hiccups have always given Roók trouble, more than she cares to admit. She got them constantly as a child, and though they'd decreased dramatically as she grew into adulthood, they've never stopped completely. She's still quite a bit more prone than the average person, and she's learned to live with that.

But it's never been as bad as it is now. Since this nonsense with the gods started, her hiccups have been worse than ever. Anytime she's anxious, or upset, or just existing, as of late, there's a good chance her body will respond by making her burst into hiccups. This is her third case this week, and she's getting really, really sick of it.

Her only saving grace is that so far, the others don't seem to have noticed. Not much, at least. They've no doubt noticed her hiccupping at times—they're difficult to hide, each one jerking her whole body—but no one's said anything, and presumably no one's noticed that it's a recurring thing. She knows, logically, that it's only a matter of time before that happens, but foolishly, desperately, she hopes that if she keeps concealing this to the best of her ability, she can put that off indefinitely.

Which leads her to her current predicament.

One of Ńeve's notebooks has gone missing. The work of the wisps, no doubt. Roók volunteered to try and find it two hours ago, a mission derailed half an hour ago when she started to hiccup. Since then, she's been keeping to the empty areas of the Lighthouse, where the others won't spot her, but at this point, she's confident the notebook isn't in any of those places. In fact, out of the likely suspects for places the wisps like to move stuff to, there's really only one spot left for the notebook to be. Unfortunately, it is also where Roók least wants to be when she's like this.

But she told Ńeve she'd find the notebook, and she can't very well wait the hiccups out—that could take hours. So she'll just have to suck it up.

Roók takes a deep breath and knocks on Béllara's door.

Béllara answers. "Oh! Roók! Hi! What's going on? Not that you need a reason to be here, of course, you're always welcome. But I'm assuming you have a reason."

Roók nods and smothers a hiccup. "Just looking for Ńeve's notebook. *hmk!*" Shit. Please don't notice. Please don't notice. Please—

"Oh, you've got hiccups? I hate when that happens. I can get you some water if you'd like?"

She blushes and stifles another jolt. "No. But *hmf!* but thank you. Just, have *hnk!* have you seen one of her *hmk!* notebooks anywhere?"

"I don't think so." Béllara shakes her head. "But I've got a lot of stuff in here. And it's kind of a mess. And wisps like to put stuff in the middle of messes. So, I mean, it might be here somewhere. We can search for it together?"

Roók nods again, lungs spasming painfully with a suppressed hiccup, the force of it making her jerk. "Sure."

This could take a while. But hopefully, two will be better than one. And hopefully, Roók won't embarrass herself too catastrophically.

They begin to search separate boxes in relative silence, Roók continuing to muffle hiccups that make her chest and shoulders jump. Béllara, of course, never leaves a room quiet for long. (It's sweet.) "So, is this one of the secret notebooks? Or are we allowed to take a peek?"

Roók restrains a giggle, knowing even that runs the risk of making her hiccups worse. "It's case notes," she answers. "Old *hmph!* old ones, so yes, we *hnk!* we can take a *hmk!* take a look inside if we *mk!* if we so des*hic!* excuse me, desire." She's definitely blushing again. There's nothing worse than letting loose an unmuffled hiccup in front of someone, especially gorgeous elven experts in ancient magic. In Roók's opinion, there's no sound more humiliating.

"Oh, you don't have to apologize," Béllara says lightly. "Everyone gets hiccups sometimes."

"I know. I *hmpk!* I just—" I just think they're the most embarrassing thing in Thedaś and I hate how often I get them. "I prefer to keep *mf!* keep them quiet."

"How come? I mean, it's just you and me in here, and I don't care about them."

But I do. I want to jump into the void beneath us knowing that you're seeing me like this. If I don't mitigate it I think I might actually drop dead. "Call it *hmk!* habit."

"Got it. You're sure you don't want water or something?"

"It *hnk!* it wouldn't help," Roók admits. "They stop *hmph!* when they want to." It's always been that way with her hiccups. She can go for hours on end, and nothing helps except time. "I'm sorry *hk!* if they're irritating you." She swallows a hiccup.

"Irritating me?" Béllara repeats disbelievingly. "Roók, you're the one who has to deal with them! I just—I feel bad for you. I wish I could help."

Roók grimaces, a stifled hiccup thumping against her ribcage. "I don't need your *hnk!* pity." The less attention anyone pays to her consistently malfunctioning diaphragm, the better.

"No, I—it's not pity, Roók. You're my friend. Friends help each other out, and I wish I could do that now. Nothing more to it than that."

You're my friend. The words shouldn't sting. Roók knows there's nothing to their relationship beyond that. Béllara doesn't feel the same way she does, and even if she did, she certainly wouldn't now, not after watching her bounce around like an idiot. She'd do well to accept that.

"Understood," she says, suppressing a hiccup that jerks her head back. Maker, she hates this.

Focus, Roók. She has a notebook to find, and the sooner she finds it, the sooner she can hightail it out of here and stop making a spectacle of herself in front of beautiful, brilliant Béllara. She redoubles her efforts.

For a little while, the only sounds in the room are Roók's stifled hiccups and the two of them searching through Béllara's things. Under just about any other circumstance, Roók would be happy just to be around Béllara, especially alone, but under this one, she's just frustrated, and embarrassed, and miserable. She hates her hiccups, and she hates that she has them now of all times, and she hates that they just won't stop. No matter how hard she tries, how much she wills herself to not hiccup, they just keep coming, incessant. Her breath keeps hitching and her body keeps bouncing and jerking and she keeps making those stupid, humiliating little noises, halfway between a gasp and a gulp.

They continue like this for some time, until Béllara speaks. "Are you alright?"

Roók arches a brow, not looking up from the box she's searching. "Aside from the *hmph!* obvious?"

"Well—yes. I just mean, you look upset. Is something wrong? Beyond the hiccups?"

She hesitates. "I just *hmk!* feel like such an *hmf!* idiot right now," she admits, another hiccup thumping her chest.

"You're not an idiot!"

"I mean…" Roók shrugs, then jerks with another hiccup. "I am. Maybe not *hnk!* because of these, but *hmpf!* I'm not exactly *hmk!* brilliant." Not like you. "Pretty much all *mk!* all I do is make *hk!* make bad decisions."

Béllara frowns, stepping closer to her. "Roók, you shouldn't talk about yourself that way."

"Trust me." She grins ruefully. "Once *hmf!* once these stop, ask me *hmph!* about how I joined up *hmp!* with Varrić and Hárding. It was *hnk!* pretty stupid of me. But I'm *hmk!* not recounting it like this."

"I don't blame you," Béllara concedes. "Just—you aren't dumb, Roók."

"Okay." She doesn't feel like arguing this point when she can barely talk. "I just *hk!* just look dumb right now."

"No, you don't."

"No?" Roók swallows a hiccup. "What do you call this *hmf!* this predicament, in that case? *hmp!*”

"Honestly, Roók? It's kind of cute."

Roók's heart stops. She doesn't know what she was expecting, but it was absolutely, categorically not that. "Cute?" She muffles a hiccup.

Béllara's face has colored. "Not in, like, a demeaning way," she clarifies. "Not like a pet, or a child. Just, uh—sweet. Endearing. I mean—um." Her lips move soundlessly for another moment before she turns back to her box, rifling furiously through it. "Found it!"

Roók blinks. "The *hmk!* the notebook?"

"Yeah!" she confirms. "Wisps put it in the middle of my original notes on the Nádas Dírthalen. Don't know why they did that, but I guess trying to figure them out is sort of a fool's errand. You want me to bring it to her?"

Roók's brain is still stuck on you think I'm cute? but apparently the time for that is past, and frankly, with each passing second she's becoming more and more certain she imagined the whole thing. "Sure."

"Great." Béllara starts edging towards the door. "Awesome. I'll go do that. Feel better. I think that's appropriate to say here. I have no idea. Um—bye!" She darts out, and Roók is left alone to contemplate what the hell just happened.

Cute. Béllara thinks her hiccups are cute. This humiliating little quirk of hers that pops up at the worst times, that's increased tenfold in the past month, and Béllara thinks it's cute, sweet, endearing.

As was often the case, Harold couldn't fucking believe that he was where he was. He couldn't believe that he'd gotten into his dream college. He couldn't believe that he'd gotten into this perfect queer fraternity despite being built like the weediest little nerd. And at this specific moment, he couldn't believe that he was smooshed between two of his fraternity brothers as they joked with him and each other while bingeing on beers.

On his left, Jove (or "Bi Jove", as he hated people calling him) was smiling through his beard, and on his right, Akhil alternated between slapping his back and kissing him on the cheek. They were both a couple years older than him and both on the handegg team (Harold would never fucking call it "football"), built exactly like the linebackers they were, hulking masses of muscle and fat. Hulking masses that had decided to adopt him the second they saw him and just got more and more cuddly the deeper into their drinks they got. And so Harold just kept ending up as the narrow slice of meat in a nerd sandwich.

It was honestly kind of the dream.

Harold sucked on his root beer through a straw while his...buddies? Bros? Crushes? I mean, they were definitely crushing him, so...while his Jove and Akhil were pounding their non-root beers. Almost as if he'd forgotten the nerd between him and Jove, Akhil used his hip to jostle both of the men to his left. "Hey, Jojo, did you hear the thing with—"

"BAOOUUUURRR–*CUP!*" Harold shoved his glass of rootbeer back onto the bar in front of them and covered his mouth with both hands, feeling his face burning as both Jove and Akhil stared down at him. "Um–mmrrrgp. U-uh...*mmk* Sc-scuse me. *hmrk!*" He just barely managed to stutter out. After a second, Jove burst out laughing, clearly well past the point of inebriation where everything was funny. He was the one to slap Harold's back this time, forcing an "*EYUK*–GRUP!" out of him that had him trying even harder to hide his face.

"Pfff, 'scuse you? Dude, that was nothing!" Despite what Jove said, that was absolutely not nothing. Harold's burps had always been way too big for his short, skinny body. Apparently Jove was going to make it look true one way or another, though, because he refilled his glass, then tilted it up and started downing it in massive gulps.

"Oh shit, you got him started," said Akhil, rubbing Harold's back and catching him as he kept hiccuping and rocking backwards. "This is gonna be a whole fucking thing." A tiny whimper came out of Harold's throat between hiccups, and another burp snuck out when Akhil gave his belly a few pats.

Jove slammed his glass back down on the bar with a satisfied huff, his already-too-tight T-shirt riding up a bit on his bloated gut, and he gave it a slap before a "GWOOOOOAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRGP!" roared out of him, and Harold was fairly sure that he saw the bar's rafters shaking. "Hah! Excuse me, motherfucker! Beat that!"

"Not everything's gotta be a contest, dude," Akhil said. "...but if it did, beating you wouldn't even be hard. Look, you weren't even loud enough to scare lil' dude's hiccups away."

"What?" Jove looked down and seemed to only now notice Harold's flustered squeaking. The sounds he was managing to conceal with his hands, but nothing could hide the way he was rocking back and forth. And that rocking was shaking up the rootbeer in his stomach, and he could feel himself bloating and growling under Akhil's hand. "Awww," Jove said, leaning against the bar and smooshing his cheek with one hand. "You got the hiccups, bro?"

"...mmmrrrgp–*mmk!*" Harold couldn't exactly deny it, the tiny burps sneaking out of him just making them worse.

"Man, and you're shy as fuck too," Jove said, giving his head a small shake. After a second, though, he snapped his fingers and grinned over at Akhil. "Shit, now you gotta try and beat me!"

"Huh?" Akhil stared at him.

"If you try and out-burp me, I'll totally kick your ass, and you'll end up with the hiccups too! That way nobody'll notice lil' bro here with you being loud as fuck."

After a moment, Akhil rolled his eyes. "Dude, if you want me to get drunk enough to strip, you can just say that." Even so, he refilled his glass too, then started drinking, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat with each big, clumsy gulp. When he finished it, though, he stifled a small "Grrrrrrgp" in his throat, then started filling his glass up again.

"Pfff. mmrgp. Thinks he can kick my ass with pure volume. Hah. I don't even need any more booze." Harold's eyes were yanked back to Jove, just barely able to see his throat bob from under his beard as he started gulping down air. Feeling his face get hotter as his eyes were drawn to Jove's gut again, Harold grabbed his root beer and started sipping through the straw once more, swallowing his hiccups and just needing something to cool him off. "Bup–bwourp–shit, hang on–grup–guh!" Jove covered his mouth, though he kept swallowing, and then after a second, something started growling out of him. "Be–eeeeyuuuuuuurrrrk–eaaaaaat thiiiiiiiIIIIIIiiisss, Akh–*HILP!*–buh! *HWUP!*–bworp! F-fuck!"

Akhil finished his second glass, then, to Harold's...horror? He refilled it and started downing a third. His stomach was bulging out from under his tank top too now, and Harold couldn't look at that without feeling himself being shaken by the hiccups and (relatively) small burps that kept popping out of Jove, something he apparently hadn't seen coming.

"*HUK*–urk! Come on, du–*HOOP*–iiuuuuuuuuude–*CUP!*, quit sta–*HULK*–alling! BWOURP!" Jove used Harold as a medium through which to shove Akhil, who simply held a single finger up as he kept taking slow, methodical gulps of his last beer. All the while, Harold just kept desperately concealing his hiccups and sipping his bubbly drink more and more.

Jove's prodding didn't get Akhil to drink any faster, and eventually he put his glass down surprisingly calmly. He then held up a hand, counting down on his fingers, three, two, one. And once his hand was curled into a fist, he thumped his chest with it, then started to growl. "grrrrruuuuuuooooOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRrrrrlgp. Mmf." He gave his chest a few more thumps, then let out an even longer "BWOR-UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrruulllguuuuuuuuuuuurrrugurp. Hwoof. Bwourglp. Mmh. Think I did beat that. *hmk*–rrp."

"Aw, du–*HOOP*–ude, no w–*HULK*–gurp way! euuuurg–*CUP!* That wasn–*HNKT* anywhe–*URK* close to as l–ooouuuuuuuud as me–EURP–*P-HUP!*"

"Lot long–eeerrrrp though. *hmnk*" Jove's noisy hiccups were contrasted with Akhil's nearly silent jolts, though his burps, though small, were still audible.

Jove groaned and rolled his eyes between hiccups and burps. "Dude, you a–uuuurk are such a fu–*HUCK*–iiinnng dick!"

"Oh yeah? mmmrrrg–*cup!* mmf." Akhil leaned in towards Jove, almost seeming unaware that his jolting, rumbling belly was squishing into Harold below him. "What a–uuuurk are you gonna do ab–*ulp*–bout it?"

"What am *HULK* I gonna do–*HOOK*–ooouuuurp about it?" Jove turned on his bar stool, his stomach pressed against Harold from the other side, and he grabbed Akhil by the belt loops of his jeans, yanking him closer. "I think I'm gonna–*HUCK!*"

"BWAAAAAAOOO–*UCK*–OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUU–*HURK*–UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRR–*IC-OLP*–AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRP! *HIG-HIGGOLP!*"

Jove and Akhil pulled just a bit apart and both stared down between them. And Harold was pulled in on himself like a turtle, wishing that the stiff neck of his button-up shirt would protect him from the massive sound that just forced his mouth open. He was rapidly hiccuping now, belches bursting out between them, and even though he forced his mouth shut, the sounds were barely muffled at all, and he couldn't even find a second to excuse himself.

After a second, Jove burst out laughing, wrapping his arms around Harold and squeezing him tight, forcing another massive belch out of him as he kissed the top of his head. "Awww, du–*HOOP*–uuuuuude!" He cooed, if cooing could be done at a high enough volume to be heard over absurd burps and hiccups.

Akhil at least had the decency to try and hide his laughter between his own hiccups and burps. "Fuck, let's ge---umf, mmmrrrgp get this little g–*hup* guy out of heeeeuuurk before he has a h–*hhup*–heart att–*auk*–grrrrp."

"Yeah, OURP! Don't worry di–*HIRK* dirty Harry," for how much he hated being called Bi Jove, Jove sure loved giving other people stupid nicknames. Harold couldn't exactly complain about that, though, because Jove was currently lifting him up like he was absolutely nothing. Even if that hadn't broken his brain too much to speak, the fact that his strong arms were tight around his stomach, not to mention his own bloated gut shaking and vibrating against Harold's back, just kept forcing more burps and hiccups out of him. "We'll getch–AURP outta he–*EURK!*"

Even though he was the only sober one, Harold felt like he had the least idea what was going on as he was hauled out of the bar and back to their dorm by the two laughing jocks, who, despite his continued oversized belching and hiccups, seemed to forget he was between them again as they wound up making out around their own burps and hiccups and drunkenly squishing him on the couch. So now he was trapped between two huge linebackers kissing each other, getting hard, and unbelievably drunk and noisy while he couldn't help loudly embarrassing himself from the middle.

C0nner K&nt was a lot of things. He was Superb0y, he was a hero, he was a clone, he was a kryptonian, he was stupidly powerful under the yellow sun.

He was also half human. 

He hated that part. He mostly hated it for the person he had gotten that human half from. But sometimes, like now, he also hated it for the ways it affected his biology. 

K0n knew what hiccups were. He hadn’t, once, but after the fiasco that was the first time T!m got hiccups around him, he knew what hiccups were. And he was no longer panicked about them being fatal or anything like that. T!m got hiccups often enough for it to be relatively normal. 

T!m got hiccups a lot, actually. It was always a bit of a coin flip when K0n found T!m late at night. The bat would either be asleep on his keyboard, or working away while exhaustion induced hiccups made him jolt. 

And K0n didn’t plan on ever letting it slip how adorable he found T!m’s hiccups. T!m’s hiccups were little body shaking chirps, and T!m never lived up to the Rob!n name as much as he did when he was making those sounds. Not to mention how T!m’s face scrunched up in annoyance at each hiccup, even as he valiantly ignored them.

A hiccup shook K0n out of his thoughts. Damnit. He really needed to stop daydreaming about his very platonic best friend. Especially when he was facing the current issue of getting hiccups for the first time. His hiccups were not cute like T!m’s, they were loud ‘HUCK!’ noises. He counted himself lucky that they were nowhere near as fast as T!m’s because he was being noisy enough as it was.

K0n was laying in bed, face buried into his pillow as he debated his options. Was it worth risking leaving his room? B@rt and C@ssie would make fun of him to hell and back, but T!m almost definitely knew a cure. If T!m didn’t know at least one cure, considering how often T!m hiccuped and how many random facts T!m knew, K0n would eat his socks or something. Basically, it was impossible. T!m definitely knew something he could try. 

He could text T!m, ask him to come to his room. But that felt too intimate. Sure, the entire team had seen each other in extremely compromising situations. The four of them had been traveling on a space ship together for nearly two weeks. None of them even noticed when B@rt forgot to throw a shirt on in his rush some mornings, or when C@ssie didn’t wait for the others to finish to come in the shower room. But inviting T!m to his bedroom? T!m, who K0n still got red around whenever the bat was in literally any state of undressing? Yeah, no. 

Being nervous about seeing your best friend in boxers was normal anyway. It was different with him, there was more at stake. Not that he didn’t love B@rt and C@ssie, but T!m was his best friend. T!m was different. That was normal. 

K0n groaned into his pillow and threw himself out of bed. He kept his mouth tightly shut to muffle the hiccups, pulled on a hoodie (since T!m always kept the computer room way too cold), and started his trip to find T!m.

K0n felt extremely lucky when he didn’t run into anyone in the halls. He peaked into the computer room, which was more accurately called T!m’s office at this point, and grinned slightly when he found T!m sitting at the desk.

K0n slipped into the room, closing the door quietly. He spoke quickly before snapping his mouth shut again. “T!m?”

T!m twirled in his chair. Once he realized it was just K0n, his face broke into a smile. He waved at K0n as he jolted with a little chirp. K0n’s eyes widened. What were the chances? Incredibly high, now he thought about it, but still. K0n nearly forgot about his own hiccups, lost in the world of thinking about how adorable T!m was. The hiccup that slipped past K0n’s lips in his daze reminded him of the issue at hand. It also made T!m startle

“You have c'heep! hiccups?” T!m asked curiously. “That’s p-c'hic!-ossible?”

“I’m half HUCK! human,” K0n said, folding his arms defensively. “And HULP! yeah, I have hm'GUH! hiccups. I’ve never gotten HULP! them before so I thought HIGGUP! you might know HUCK! what to do? Con-HULP! considering… Everything?”

T!m’s next hiccup proved K0n’s point. T!m barked a laugh, clicked off the computer, and stood. He grabbed K0n’s hand and pulled him to the couch in the corner of the room. K0n let himself be dragged. 

“I do c'heep! know c'hic! hiccup cures. None ha-c'heep!-ve ever c'hip! worked on c'heep! me, but  w-c'hic!-orth a shot c'hip! for you!” T!m smiled up at K0n. K0n had to tear his gaze from T!m’s smile to his eyes as he nodded for T!m to continue. “Ok, first, h-c'hic!-old your c'heep! breath!” 

K0n obliged, sucking in air and holding it. He looked at T!m expectantly. When a hiccup cut through the breath holding, K0n took the chance to speak. “Is that HULP! seriously it?” 

T!m nodded. “I never c'hic! promised c'heep! it’d work, it’s c'hic! just the c'hip! most com-c'heep!-mon c'hic! cure. There’s c'heep! also drinking c'hip! water in c'hic! a bunch of dif-c'heep!-ferent c'hic! ways, and c'hip! hand stands, and c'hic! some c'hip! different foods.” 

“I’m glad my hiccups HUCK! aren’t like yours,” K0n admitted with a soft laugh. “You bre-HULP! breathing ok there birdy? Your hiccuping HIGGUP! a mile a minute.” 

“I’m used c'heep! to it,” T!m shrugged. He turned a teasing smile on K0n. “Atleast c'hip! mine aren’t c'hic! loud c'heep! as hell.”

“Yeah yeah, trust me hm'GUH! I know. How would you feel HIGGUP! about making me your test subject HULP! for hiccup cures?” K0n nudged T!m with his elbow. T!m lit up at the idea of making this science based. 

By the second time K0n managed to hiccup-laugh water into coming out his nose, T!m decided to rule out water based cures. Sure, it was T!m’s fault that K0n had been laughing in the first place, but it was still very clearly not working. They tried some breathing techniques after that, which thankfully succeeded in undoing the damage that the failed water cures had done to the speed of K0n’s hiccups, but not much more than that. 

K0n decided to try the hand stand next. He accomplished it by flying and positioning himself upside down. That only resulted in them having to take a break to get T!m through a worsened hiccup fit caused by laughing at K0n’s actions. 

They tried food based cures after that. Lemon juice, peanut butter, honey, that kind of thing. The only thing that came of that was K0n’s first time trying honey without it being a topping or mix-in. He decided it was gross, and T!m pretended to be offended. 

T!m threw out a few other ideas after that, all of which K0n shot down. Especially the ‘digital rectal massage’, the very idea of that left K0n flushed. T!m flopped down onto K0n’s lap and groaned. “I’m all c'hic! out c'hip! of ideas.” 

K0n nearly forgot to breathe. He put his hand in T!m’s hair on instinct, watching the smaller boy jolt every few seconds. T!m looked up at K0n expectingly, his eyes wide and reflecting like ocean water. And fuck, K0n loved this man. He really did. As much as he wanted that to be platonic, it really wasn't. It couldn't be, not when T!m was looking at him like that.

K0n’s fingers curled in T!m’s hair as he admitted him. T!m’s hair shifted slightly with each hiccup, and at the same time T!m’s stomach bounced up. K0n rested a hand softly on T!m’s stomach, making sure not to obstruct its movements or cause discomfort. 

“K0n?” T!m called softly. “Yo-c'hip!-ur hiccups c'heep! stopped.”

K0n blinked to regain his bearings. T!m was right. Apparently realizing you were head over heels for your best friend was a good hiccup cure. K0n cleared his throat before he replied. “Yeah, they are. I- Uh- I guess they went away on their own?”

“Luck-c'hip!-y,” T!m drew out the word. He grinned up at K0n, and K0n’s heart skipped a beat. How had he not realized sooner how absolutely gone he was? 

“If you sleep that’d probably get rid of yours,” K0n hummed. He didn't move either hand, and T!m didn't seem to mind.

“Yeah yeah,” T!m sighed. “Just c'hic! one of those c'heep! nights, you kn-c'hic!-ow? Like, if c'heep! I close my ey-c'heep!-es and sleep, I don't c'hic!  know if c'hip! the night-c'heep!-mares will come c'hic!  from c'hip! inside my mind c'hip! or out-c'hic!-side, but I know c'heep! they’ll come.”

K0n nodded. He knew exactly what T!m meant, life of a vigilante and all. He ran his fingers through a knot in T!m’s hair, tugging it loose as carefully as he could. “What if you slept in my room? I could keep watch. Or I could keep watch in yours?”

T!m looked surprised by the offer, but he barely took a moment to reply. “Yes ple-c'heep!-ase. Your c'hic! room.”

So that was how K0n ended up being the big spoon to his best friend as said best friend hiccuped softly in K0n’s arms. T!m’s hiccups soon faded once T!m fell asleep, but K0n stayed awake. He was too busy lost in thinking about T!m, a train of thought that continued into his eventual dreams.

This is a story about Alice, a 21 year old university student, who finds themselves in a predicament involving hiccups after eating bread.

The house was particularly empty that evening. Alice was petting her cat while relaxing by a chimney. The heat was making the animal very comfortable, and the silence helped the woman focus on a book. After a while, the cat purred and changed its position on her lap, which distracted Alice from reading. As she snapped back to reality from an interesting story, she looked around the living room, and to her delight, the house seemed empty. By now, her mother was supposed to come back from work. Something must’ve happened. She reached for her phone and turned it on. A message appeared, sent by her mother around 30 minutes ago. Alice was so focused on the book she didn’t hear the notification. She read the message: “I’ll be back after midnight. Our team decided to throw a party to celebrate a project we just finished. BTW: don’t order anything, we have food in the house.”

Alice was happy with the news. Her brother was out of town, and her father worked abroad. This meant the house was empty and she could relax without worrying about anyone.

If her mother was to come back, Alice would have to go back to her room and continue reading there. The living room had a sofa and a TV, which made it frequently occupied by everyone. But now, since Alice was alone, she could enjoy the comfy chair and the heat of the chimney in peace. She could even use the TV if she got bored. It was a perfect recipe for a perfect evening.

But then, she got hungry. It was only natural. Her last meal was half a day ago, when she was coming back home from university and walked into her favourite sushi place, very originally called “Sushi Japan”. They served delicious food there, but alas, it couldn’t satisfy her needs for that long. It was time to make something to eat.

She carefully placed her cat away and walked into the kitchen. She walked back and forth between the pantry and the fridge, thinking about what to eat. Her stomach wanted something fulfilling, but her brain was feeling lazy. After careful consideration, she grabbed a plate and put 5 slices of plain bread on it.

This wasn’t anything special - Alice was lazy when it came to taking care of her diet. That’s why her mother forbade her from ordering food, expecting her daughter to make something healthy and nutritious while saving money. She underestimated her laziness, though.

Alice walked back to the living room and placed the plate on a table beside the sofa. She read a section, fully invested into the story approaching its climax, and reached towards the plate. She struggled to grab onto the bread, as she was too invested into the book. When she focused on the task and paid attention (because she couldn’t manage to mutli-task reading the book and taking the bread), it suddenly became very easy. She took the 5 slices of bread, not bothering to take the plate, and slowly but surely prepared herself to consume the delicacy.

When she was ready, she pushed the bread into her mouth all at once. At first, all seemed well, but after a while it got harder and harder to chew. After a minute, she noticed she had difficulty with eating that much bread. The young woman considered spitting it out, but decided against it, as it would mean wasting 5 slices of good bread. 

So she pressed on and chewed with all her might. After another minute, Alice decided to risk it. She swallowed the food. Almost immediately, it refused to go down, getting stuck in the throat. She gulped, and gulped, and even touched her neck with her hand to help with moving it. More and more air went down with the bread mass as it slowly made its way through the pharynx into the oesophagus.

As it made its way into the stomach, Alice felt discomfort and a little pain. Her eyes watered in response to the mouth lacking moisture, and she put her hand in the middle of her chest as she felt the bread painfully make its way down. 

Fortunately, with uneasiness also came relief. She could breathe again. She almost choked on the food, after all, so regaining the ability to breathe made her relax.

“Mrphh-” - she belched silently with her mouth closed - “Damn… That was clos-”

Alice felt her stomach and neck contract, cutting her words short. It was a hiccup. She wasn’t surprised - she did just give her diagram a workout. What she didn’t expect was a full blown case. When her body contracted again and again, she wasn’t happy.

“God da-hmg’h! Dammnit!”

She tried to ignore them and continue reading the story. Unfortunately, this case of hiccups turned out to be especially deep, which distracted her a lot.

“Should have eaten-hmlg’k!-something normal. That’s on m-mglk!-me.”

Normally, Alice didn’t mind the hiccups. If she got them, which happened sometimes due to her eating habits, she wouldn’t care and would just continue with her day. And, to be honest, she even found them a bit unique and enjoyable. They just sparked a little bit of surprise into her mundane everyday life. But to get them right now? She was way too invested into the book, and the hiccups were just a little too deep to be bearable.

“Time to ge-urgk!-get some water. Hiccu’gh! Damn! That was a loud one-hmg’lk!”

Alice didn’t know much about hiccup remedies, so her first idea was to get water. She walked into the kitchen and grabbed a cup from a cupboard. As she filled the cup with water from a water dispenser in the fridge, she thought about all the times she had hiccups. Last time she had them they were really bad. She caused them by overeating - another weird thing she enjoyed doing. Whenever she overate, she belched, and the belches induced hiccups, which in turn made the belching worse. It was a spiral of mutual inducing, which almost made her consider going to the hospital that day. After a bad night, though, everything was fine. 

Her face embraced a mixed reaction when she thought about that. On one hand, she didn’t want to have the hiccups right now. On the other hand, some deep, hidden part of her was considering actually letting the case stay for some reason.

Definitely not today, though. She had a good book to finish. When the dispenser finished filling the cup, she put it to her lips and drank with haste to get rid of the hiccups.

“...Ah! Did it wo-Higgu’hk!- …No. Oh well, more water it is.”

She filled another cup and drank it again. “...How about now? …I think they’re go-HIGGU’LK!- Ouch! That hu-Urgk!-hurt!”

Alice got angrier and angrier with each hiccup. She once again filled her cup with water and drank it. When she swallowed, she didn’t even wait for a hiccup this time to confirm if they’re gone and just filled another cup.

“Gulp! Gulp! …Maybe no-HICUG’H!- No. Still the-HIGGU’H!-there. Ugh… Thi-HULGK!-This water isn’t helping-”

She got cut off by another hiccup. Although she noticed the water wasn’t effective, she really didn’t want to have the hiccups right now. Especially now that they seem to have gotten louder and deeper. They were even making her larger than average chest jump.

“Maybe if my-HIGGU’HK!-stomach is filled to the br-HICCU’GH!-brim with water, they’ll -HIGLK!-god… They’ll stop-hg’k!”

Alice filled the cup again and drank again. She repeated this process multiple times, to the point she started feeling nauseous.

“Ugh… -HULMGK!- My stomach -HULGK! HUL’KH!- hurts now… -HULK!- And the hiccups -HIGGU’LK!- have gotten worse…”

The hiccuping woman decided to stop drinking the water. She started to regret drinking it in the first place.

“-HIGGU’LK! Urp!- Great! Now I’m -Hmp!UOORP!- also burping. My evening -URGK! - is ruined…”

Alice only partially meant that. Since her reading session was ruined either way, she figured there’s no need to cry over spilt milk. She decided she might as well enjoy the current predicament a little, as it might be a long time before she gets another case.

“Might as well -Hmk!UUUUUORP!-mm~ lie in bed -HICC’GUH!- to wait them ou-HIGGUH’K!”

The burps made Alice struggle a bit with breathing, but it wasn't something she was unfamiliar with. The worst cases of hiccups she had made her unable to speak properly, so the current sensations were a league below the worst she had.

Alice slowly approached the stairs. The hiccups were intense enough to disrupt her while walking, so she had to be careful. As she took a few steps up, she felt the big amount of water in her stomach hit the organ’s walls back and forth. She never experienced this before, so this took her by surprise. She was only familiar with overeating - drinking large amounts of fluids was foreign to her. 

“Oh go-HICCU’GH!-od! This is -HULK!UURP!- too -HIC’GUH! HIK’GH!- much!”

The sensations were a bit too much for Alice, whose hiccups intensified for a short while due to the water sloshing in her stomach. After a few seconds, she managed to regain composure and walk up the stairs.

“I definitely -UUURP!-’cuse me, overdid it. -HULK’GH!- Can’t afford th-EM’gh!- Getting worse-”

Once again cut off by a hiccup, she decided against speaking to herself for now. She liked to do that whenever she got hiccups as it was a little funny when they interrupted her, but now it would make them worse.

She went to her room, still hiccuping like crazy, and packed her things for tomorrow before jumping into bed. She focused for a few minutes on the hiccuping. It definitely felt different when her stomach was filled with water compared to regular overstuffing. Since it was so quiet, she could hear her stomach slosh every time it contracted due to the spasm. She wondered if she could see it wiggle like jelly if she drank enough water, but it definitely wasn’t filled enough to do that now.

Speaking of jelly, her chest definitely met the standards to be considered that right now. When she wasn’t on the bed, it only jumped up and down, but now that she was on the bed, it was wiggling in unison as her body hiccuped. Normally, Alice would get a little excited, but right now she was exhausted.

Shibasaki was up on the ladder, working on some wiring. It was proving harder than average, he'd picked up a particularly nasty case of his hiccups some 10 minutes ago and they would not let up. They were loud and hard. He was honestly worried he might fall off the stupid ladder. Cailean sighed punctuated by a “-hEElk-” he sounded strangled. Luckily hewas nearly finished replacing the wires in this damn near ancient building.

It was a relatively lax day inside the archival building which probably meant it was a busy day in other parts of the university, Cail had only really seen one or two of the non-student employees hed met a week or so ago. There was one of the nice butch women, there were two butch women here: a wildly tall and thin girl who’d showed him a picture of her lizard, and the shorter heavier girl who’d asked if he'd ever seen a highland cow (he had) the latter was the one here. The other person here was the skinny man who had more glasses than face, he'd seemed alarmed to see cailean when he first arrived as a new maintenance man to the university.

“Who are you? What's going on? How'd you get here?” He'd asked back then, walking in a hard circle around Shibasaki as if taking stock of him. The confused Scotsman put his hands up and explained he'd just been hired which put a frown on the other man's face before he left muttering “new? New??” over and over under his breath.

Cailean frowned for a minute thinking about him, what was his name? He was so bad at names, he recalled it was something you'd name a sickly Victorian child… like Orville or Johann. He chuckled ,hiccupping early for it. Thought discarded the handyman slid his stripper into his tool belt, when he did so he was rattled to his core to see the skinny spectacled man from his mind palace standing at the base of the ladder looking at him without an expression, not unreadable but a complete lack thereof. He screamed despite himself，hand flying up to his mouth and the other gripping the ladder.

”OUH -hIGG’Up- oh my God -HIk- i-i mean Hello.. you..” he thought he would die just then but his hiccups remained unbothered hammering at his chest as he tried to catch his breath. The man at the end of his ladder tilted his head to the side.

“Paxton.” He stated dryly pushing his glasses up with his finger, Cailean noted the flush behind them, fuck it was kinda hot in this place? Shouldn't it be colder? For the records? To be ..cold??? He frowned.

“Come down from there. Follow me.” It wasn’t a request. The other man was already turned around as Shibasaki stumbled down his ladder. Paxton was probably leading him to some broken temperature thing if the pink on his neck was anything to go by.

“Is the ther -HUlck- sorry -HIGGip- the thermo -HUCKUp- s-stat-“

“Stop talking.” Paxton interrupted without looking at him. Cail shut his mouth, a little dejected as the other man led him to a comfy looking room with a couch and a table. He was confused, what was there to fix in here? He looked around now trying to muffle his hiccupping as he looked for what could be amiss. He was so focused he hardly noticed Paxton riffle through a cupboard and come back to push a jar of peanut butter into his hand.

“Do you have allergies?” his expression still had not changed despite Cailean’s obvious bewilderment at the question and action.

“N -HILK- no????” He looked at the jar and then the plastic spoon that were both now in his hands.

“What's thi-HIGG’Kup- why?“ the other man put his hands up to stop him.

“Youre h-“ Paxton looked past Cailean thinking for a second “you're hiccupping a lot. Stop talking and eat some of that stuff.” He turned around to start reorganizing the cabinets in the lounge.

cailean felt his face burn, this guy had heard him all the way at his desk? He unscrewed the lid on the peanut butter what kind of cure was putting something impossible to eat into your mouth and throat? He digressed, after all Paxton had gone through all this trouble to help him.

Cailean suddenly felt a pressure wash over him, what if it didn't work and he had to leave because everyone in the building hated him? And his body was ungrateful to his new pseudo coworkers?? hell he was sweating now and the nerves didn't do the case any favors. He stuck a spoonful into his mouth still hiccuping hard. It tasted good obviously it was fucking peanut butter of course it was good. Cailean breathed out through his nose as he watched Paxton move to rearrange the refrigerator. His stomach gave another lurch as he swallowed, hand to his chest. He waited for a second and then another.

“What the hell” he inspected the peanut butter jar for anything that could discern its hiccup interrupting properties this hadn't been one of his particularly rough cases but it still threw him off to be rid of it so easily. Paxton was pushing something else into his hand now, a water bottle.

“This is our lounge peanut butter. There's vinegar also, you can have this" he pointed to the water "but put the peanut butter back. It stays here so you can use it.” Paxton was as dry as ever but it didn't seem like he was annoyed. He seemed off though still.

“Thanks? Hey, why would I need vinegar?” He felt like he was taking lunatic pills today. The other man tilted his head again.

“Does the same thing as the peanut butter if the peanut butter doesn't work.” He stated, pulling the jar out of Cailean's hand. The handy man pulled the top of the water bottle off to remove the dryness out of his mouth.

“Hey, how do you know these are cures for hiccups? Why keep 'em on hand?” Cail was just making conversation now but for some reason this is where Paxton’s expression changed.

He looked like he'd been caught doing something wrong.

“I just do.” He said roughly. “It's nice to plan for emergencies in any case”

“I wouldn't call hiccups an emergency…”

Paxton was squirming a bit now