#nonnie asks

The fingers of Tim’s left hand drum on the countertop as he quickly reads through the instruction leaflet he has splayed out on the counter, eyes skipping over words every sentence and forcing him to reread everything at least twice. He sighs, leaning forward in his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose with a deep sniffle before he opens his eyes again and stares at the paper with renewed determination. He basically has it down, just another quick look at the instructions….aaaand he doesn’t remember anything. Dammit.

He sighs again, rubbing at a sore eye. This fever is really kicking his ass. When he opens his eyes again, he notices that there’s a new wet spot on the pamphlet, and curls his lip in disgust when he realizes that he snotted all over it. He’s quick to bring his finger to his nose, dragging it underneath his sore nostrils, and tries to sniffle up anything left behind. The congestion settling deep in his sinuses doesn’t really allow for it, and he pulls his sleeve over his wrist, dabbing at the rough skin of his upper lip to rid it of the excess moisture.

“So it wasn’t a tension headache.”

Tim jumps a few inches into the air at the voice behind him, his breath catching on his surprise and the mucus in his lungs. He buries his lower face in his elbow, giving into the chesty coughs that overtake him as he eyes his visitor.

It’s Kon, of course, the only person who lives at their base of operations full time. The mission must be completed, for him to be back, and once he has his lungs under control Tim looks around to see if there are any other team members present, but doesn’t see any evidence of them.

“Everyone else went home. Wanted to take advantage of the down time. Everything went well, by the way. Now what’s up with you?” Tim can’t stop the fond smile that overtakes his face. It’s all so very Kon, to let Tim know the basics before asking about his well-being. He knows Tim well.

“Probably the flu,” Tim says. His voice is rough and croaky, and he tries to clear it with little success. “Felt a little bad yesterday. Felt worse today.” It started with a headache a few days before, one that gave him a migraine so bad that the team went on a mission without him. It was little more than a milk run, but it still smarted when they left him behind at his own insistence. He was much happier with his decision to stay at their base when his condition only worsened. He’s been on planes with this level of congestion before. Not a pleasant experience.

“And you’re out of bed, why?” Kon saunters over to him, taking a look at what he’s working on. “You should see a doctor.”

Tim snorts, which is immediately a mistake. He raises the cuff of his hoodie to his nose again. “That’s what I’m trying to avoid. I feel shitty enough without having to leave to go sit in a doctor’s office.”

Kon lifts an eyebrow. “And this is for…?” He gestures at the table.

“Batman.” Tim might not want to go to a doctor, but he knows that antivirals will make this stupid flu a hell of a lot easier to get through. He’s also 80% sure that he has an ear infection in at least one ear. Luckily, Bruce and Alfred keep the Batcave well stocked. Unfortunately, Alfred won’t dole out any meds stronger than tylenol without proof. They all have Bruce and the Great Antibiotic Debacle of 2003 to thank for that one. Tim explains this to Kon in as few words as possible.

“Hence the rapid test,” he thrusts his open palm towards the setup. Kon makes a considering face, nodding.

“And then back to bed?”

Tim fantasizes for a quick moment of his comforter and a cold compress. “Yeah, then back to bed.” He woke up literally less than thirty minutes ago and he’s already exhausted. Stupid flu. He turns his head to track where Kon is making his way to the fridge, but the motion shifts something in his nose and the low, ticklish buzzing in his nostrils that’s been present all morning grows exponentially. He raises the cuff of his sleeve again, immediately failing at a stifle with a, “Heh-GkShu!” The surprise of it all makes wet droplets spray not only on his sleeve, but also his hand and the instruction pamphlet still spread on the table. Gross. The sneeze leaves him with a watery nose and eyes, and he reluctantly wipes his nose on his sleeve before standing.

“Hey, where are you going?” Kon is already at his side.

“Tissue box,” Tim says with a resigned air.

“I’ve got you covered. Sit back down and do your rapid test thing.”

Oh. Right. Tim still hasn’t done that. He sighs, eyeing the wet spots on the instructions disdainfully as he sniffles again. “Hiih’Nnxshh!” He hears Kon return, placing a box of tissues on the counter by his elbow. It’s the same box from his room, and both shame and embarrassment rise in him at the thought that Kon saw his bedroom. Last night had been rough, his nose running and cough starting up, and he had gone through at least a box of tissues and a bag of cough drops trying to calm his symptoms enough to fall asleep. He's sure his room looks like a tissue bomb exploded in it. A used tissue bomb.

“Thaggs,” Tim says around a tissue, blowing his nose unproductively into one. His nostrils are swollen, he can feel how hard it is for anything in them to move, and he sighs noisily. If he gets a sinus infection on top of everything else, he’s rioting.

He balls the tissue up around his nose, about to pull it off with a gross squelch when another sneeze overtakes him, unexpected and painful. “Ihhtschhieew!” Spit sprays across the countertop, Tim unable to cover his mouth in time. “God, that’s gross. Sorry.”

Kon shrugs, watching him with thinly veiled amusement. “Not like I can catch it. I already texted the team that this is a biohazard zone.”

“Ha ha.” Tim intones, but is grateful all the same that he won’t be spreading this to the other human members of the team. He does hate Kon just a little for never having to know what a flu is like, though. But it’s not like expending energy being jealous of literal Superboy is going to help him now, so he just pulls the instructions closer to himself, ignoring the new wet spots. He should probably burn these instructions when he’s done. Maybe he should burn this whole place down. Kon can stay with him in Gotham.

“Hey,” Kon says, knocking his fist on the tabletop. Tim looks up at him, thoughts hazy. “You good?”

Tim bites out a quick laugh, just an exhale of air that doesn’t set his lungs off again. “Yeah. Tired.”

The frown that greets him is more concerned than upset. “You zoned out for like five minutes there. Have you taken anything? Fever reducers or regular flu medicine? I know we have some somewhere.”

“Not yet.” Tim’s ear is getting uncomfortable now, stinging with every nose blow and sniffle. “I need to fill out Alfred’s questionnaire, and to do that I can’t have fever reducers. Needs base temperature.”

Now the frown morphs to upset. “Your family is kind of mad, you know that, right?” Tim just shrugs, and Kon sighs, going back to the fridge. It looks like he’s making breakfast or something, which is good. It gives Tim time to finish this stupid rapid test.

This time, he takes out one of the foil packets alongside the instructions. He’ll make it easier on himself and his fever-driven brain by going one step at a time. It should be easy enough. Step one is getting the swab out, so he peels back the packaging and produces a swab. Just looking at it already makes his nose ticklish. This isn’t the first time he’s had to have a swab done, and it won’t be the last, but he never looks forward to it. The sensation is probably in his top five least favorite feelings. Somewhere behind getting shot, but in front of electrocution.

Insert the entire soft end of the swab into the nostril, no more than 1.5cm. It also details how he needs to twist it ten times in each nostril. Each one. Kill him now. He brings the swab to his nose, hesitating. Should he have blown his nose beforehand? Nah, they need mucus anyways, right? Maybe he should…no, he’s just stalling at this point. Fuck it.

He sticks the swab in his right nostril, estimating the deepness, and immediately clamps his mouth closed. The ticklishness increases tenfold, but he holds his breath and starts the process of twisting the swab against the inside of his nose. One. Two. He starts hitching but doesn’t pause. The feeling of the swab at it quickly soddens is uncomfortable against his inflamed membranes, the swab brushing up against every nose hair and sticky string of mucus. He feels a droplet of something fall from his nose the same time a tear streams down his cheek, his entire face leaky and damp. Ugh.

The burning sensation is getting bad around twist seven, is unbearable by nine, and he has just enough time to yank the swab from his nose after the tenth twirl before he loses his composure completely, holding the swab in the air away from his body as he sneezes helplessly at his lap. “EHH’KSHH! EHSCHH’uu! EHHTCH’UU!” The spray is everywhere, his free hand coming up uselessly to try and block the barrage, though it does nothing in the face of his illness-ridden sneezes. The tickle is worse and a few more eke their way out through his swollen nostrils, desperate and ragged, punctuated by sharp, thick sniffles that vibrate the membranes in his nostrils and make him sniff harder to stave off another barrage of sneezes.

“Shit, bless you.” Kon holds out a few tissues to him, and Tim takes them with a hint of desperation, his spit-wet fingers brushing against Kon’s, though the other man doesn’t even flinch. Must be a byproduct of never having to worry about getting someone else’s virus. Tim thrusts the swab at him in favor of emptying his nose.

Tim buries his face in the tissues, giving a blow that’s somehow productive and completely congested at the same time. He tries again and gets nothing but a sad honk that leads to more coughing, and once he’s done he pulls the tissue away slowly and balls it up with a stuffy sniff, packing it into his hoodie pocket. When he looks back at Kon, there’s sympathy and disgust in equal measures on his face. He holds the swab back out to Tim, and Tim wrinkles his face at it in displeasure. The tip of it glistens with his own mucus, cold by now, and dread pools in his stomach knowing that he still has a whole other nostril to go. The temptation to just do the test with the one is strong, but he can hear Batman’s disapproval in his head and it’s enough that he reaches out and liberates Kon from the contagion-covered q-tip.

“Thaggs,” he says, congestion fully taking over his consonants. Whatever. Time to get this over with.

He grimaces as he inserts the used swab into his left nostril much rougher than last time, hoping that the change in tactic will make it easier. One. Two. Three. Four. He makes it halfway through five when he starts hitching, but soldiers on. “Hehh’hiiihh-” Five. Si- “Hiiih-” -ix. S- “HaAAH’ASHIEEW!” The force of the sneeze hunches him over, swab still firmly in his nostril. Thick rivulets of mess drip down his nose and pendulum into the empty air. “IDGSHEUUH!” His fingers are coated in mucus now, the nastiest web of slime fanning out over the swab’s stick and multiple places on his hand and wrist. He needs to finish this, and now. He finishes the last three twists as quickly as possible, thick sneezes chasing the swab when he hastily pulls it out of his nose. “Huh’EHSHHCHH! Ih-CHISHHUH-xt! ‘TSHIEWW!”

There’s still an unfortunate strand of mess connecting the swab to his nose, and when he tries to break it, it just causes more tickling that leaves more mess dribbling down his face as he tries to sit upright again. He clamps his free hand over his nose, pinching it shut in an attempt to stop more sneezes. He’s very aware that he’s being watched, and although the audience is one of the people who knows him best, Tim is still mortified. The attempt fails horribly, and the squeaky, squelching sound of snot bursting from around his fingers and making a mess of his hand makes Tim feel even more sick and gross than before. He tries to sniffle and finds that he can’t, the wall of congestion in his abused nose too thick. He runs his tongue across his teeth, mouth dry from all of the breathing he’s been doing from it.

Unlike last time, Kon seems frozen in fascinated horror, so Tim takes it upon himself to pluck a tissue from the box with his free hand and mop at his face, wincing at how sore his nose is. When he got up this morning he had noticed that his nose was red all the way down to his upper lip, and the feeling persists now as a slow, steady burn. The tickle threatens to grow again, and he stubbornly sniffles. Again, nothing comes of it. Fuck being sick, for real.

“Are you okay?” Kon asks, and Tim decides to ignore him and his perfect immune system in favor of turning back to the instructions on the rapid test. He needs to twist the swab in the tube now, so he uncaps one from the metal foil package and twists it back and forth, fighting valiantly against his nostrils. They’re tickling like they know that this was what just happened to them and they’re remembering the sensation. His nose needs to shut the hell up.

He caps the tube with the dropper and drips three drops onto the rapid test sample well. The instructions say he won’t have results for at least 15 minutes, so he thunks his head on the table, spent. “Phodne, sedd a tibber for fifdeend middutes.”

“Timer set for fifteen minutes.” The phone parrots back at him.

He can feel Kon’s hand against his forehead. “Seriously, you good?”

“Mm,” Tim answers. Fuck, he still has to finish Alfred’s questionnare. He repeats this thought to Kon. “Can you get the thermometer? Bathroom. Shelf 2. Plastic box.” His throat is getting sore again, and he makes a pathetic sound against the countertop, wishing symptoms would start going away instead of popping up.

Kon returns with it after a few minutes, and Tim drags himself upwards. He tries to blow his nose before putting the thermometer in his mouth, but after another gross gurgle followed by a sad honk that doesn’t do anything to clear him out, he settles for placing the thermometer under his tongue on one side and breathing through a small slit in his lips on the other. If the reading seems super off then he’ll resort to more extreme measures (it wouldn’t be the first time he’s done rectal temp on himself, but he spends a lot of effort really, really trying not to think about the first time).

He sits there with snot slowly creeping from his nostrils, afraid to do anything about it lest he sneeze and need to redo the whole thing, and when the thermometer beeps without incident and he notes 102.1 degrees fahrenheit, he sighs with relief. That feels about right. No rear end stuff for him today, thank-you-very-much. He wipes his nose with his right hand while his left one reaches for his phone, where he pulls up the questionnaire and starts to fill it in.

Family member, Tim. Ailment, illness. He skips the subsection on what illness, noting that he still has another five minutes before the rapid test results. Temperature, 102.1. There’s a list of dozens of other complaints in a drop-down menu that he can select, so he selects ear infection, double, and deliberates for a moment before adding sinus infection for good measure. He enters his current location (both for the medicine shipment and to keep the family updated on his current whereabouts), symptom onset date, and current treatments (cough medicine, fever reducers, and an anticongestant once he finishes with this rapid test). There’s a section for Other at the bottom, and he looks up at Kon while his friend continues with his breakfast making. Tim can’t smell it, but he can hear something cooking in a pan.

“Hey, once I gedd approved, will you fly to the maddor to pick up mby mbedicide?”

Kon shrugs. “Sure. Will Alfred or Bruce interrogate me?”

“Mbaybe. But you’re faster thadd themb.”

“Batman.” Kon parries.

“But you…ha-..you, o-eh’nGKSHU!- owe me for Arizodda.” Tim takes the quick respite from the congestion that sneezing provides to blow his nose. It gurgles in a way that makes both him and Kon wince, his breath crackling so hard on an inhale he coughs wetly to be able to breathe out. He wipes at both his nose and mouth, mucus making the tissue soggy. He leans over and deposits it into the kitchen trash.

Kon pauses. “Alright. Fine.”

Tim smiles at his win, typing in that Kon would be retrieving the medicine. Then he watches the timer count down, feeling more and more miserable with every second. When it finally hits five seconds, he cancels it and pulls the rapid test towards him. The first line, the control one, is strong, which means the test worked. The rapid test has a few other slots without lines on it, and then two more: one on A and one on B.

Tim lets his head thunk back on the counter, really feeling sorry for himself now. “This sucks!” He yells hoarsely into his arms, the sound crackling and broken. Kon seems unaffected, and maybe even a little amused again.

“Not what you were expecting?”

Tim sniffles, turning his head to look at Kon. “What I was expecting timbes two. I have flu A and B.” Kon winces.

“That sucks.”

Tim blows out a breath. “At least I cadd get the antivirals. Add I don’t have to stick that stupid swab up mby ndose again.”

Kon puts a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “Yeah, that was painful for all involved.”

“You wered’t eved idvolved!” Tim exclaims. He points an accusing finger at him. “Voyeur.”

Kon shrugs. “I’m picking up your medicine. And I’m making you lunch. You have to be nice to me.”

“And I’b dying of the plague,” Tim grumbles, but he is a bit touched about the whole lunch thing. He hasn’t been eating well since he started feeling shitty. He turns back to his phone and selects Flu A, Flu B from the illness dropdown and submits the form. Immediately, his phone chirps with a confirmation text. He nearly regrets teaching Alfred how to use the automated systems when it reads, You will receive a follow-up message within the hour. Feel better soon! And for mercy’s sake, call Superman this time if you’re dying, B. 🙂.

It doesn’t even take five minutes for Alfred’s follow-up text. Tim is in the middle of another horrifying nose blow when he gets the message.

Received: Are you well, Master Tim?

Sent: been better, alf. kon is w me tho.

Received: I shall expect him within the hour.

Sent: thx a

Received: Be well, my boy.

“Meds now?” Tim whines, and Kon sends him an amused smile, setting down a glass of water, pills, and a bowl of oatmeal in front of him.

“I’ll go get them. Bed or couch after you eat?”

Tim whines again, a wordless thing as he looks at the bowl of oatmeal. “Not hungry. Couch.”

“Eat a few bites!” Kon calls, already jogging to his bedroom and returning with his comforter and pillows. He throws them onto the couch, making it look like a particularly appealing nest. “I’ll be back soon.”

You came back after a meeting with your co-workers to see your girlfriend waiting for you. As soon as she heard the door open, she leaned on the doorframe of the living room, looking at you with an undefined expression.

"You're late." She mumbled, her voice sounding mad but the way she planted wet little kisses all over your face said otherwise.

Ellie's closeness wasn't just out of greeting, but out of an act of possessiveness and jealousy that you grew accustomed to in the relationship.

You sighed and looked at Ellie for a second, before saying, "Yeah, I'm late. Sorry." You gave her a quick kiss too while looking for your keys. "Meeting ended late." Your voice wasn't as cheery as it usually is.

Ellie then rolled her eyes. "Did you really had to stay that long?" She muttered loudly, trying to hide the jealousy that was so clearly showing.

"It was important." You said, finding your keys and pulling them out of your pockets. You didn't sound upset because it was hard to be upset with Ellie. She was like a little kitten who was possessive and needy at times, but still oh so sweet.

Ellie rolled her eyes again but smiled, and she leaned onto you with her arms wrapped around your waist in a hug. This was where you felt safe and home.

"C'mon," she said softly, "let's go to bed."

You nodded. "I'll just go to the bathroom, 'kay?" You asked, giving her your bag, like you always did after work - she'll lug it upstairs for you.

"Of course, darling." Ellie smiled as she took the bag from you, her expression now fully warm and affectionate. You were lucky to have her, and you knew that.

You went to the bathroom and started to wash your face and brush your teeth, taking a moment to yourself.

After a few minutes, and a good splash of cold water on your face, you exited the bathroom and made your way upstairs. Ellie was waiting for you in the bedroom.

She was doing something on your phone, which didn't surprise you - she was probably just going through your gallery, staring at your pics. You had nothing to hide anyway.

She often did that, smiling widely and mumbling things like 'my wife's so pretty'.

This time, though, she was silent and had a frown on her face.

"Who's Steve?" She asked when she saw you.

"I don't know." You answered honestly. You had no idea who is she talking about, probably a random boy following you.

"You two texted." She passed your phone to you with an opened short conversation. He replied to your story, complimenting you, you thanked him, that's all.

"Yeah, I remember now. What about him?" You lied down next to her, curiously staring at the screen, expecting some more messages to magically appear and explain the situation.

Ellie sat on top of you, playing with the hem of your shirt. "He's hitting on you." She said as she got more bold, now not only fingers but her whole hands sliding up and down your waist.

"I don't know him. He just texted me once." You shrugged, reading the conversation over and over again to find which part made your girlfriend act like that.

"Yeah, and what does his text say?" She smirked, not in her usual innocent way, but in a 'think twice before you answer' way.

You scrolled to his first message and read it out loud. It was simple "stunning💞" in a reply to your story - a photo Ellie took of you at the beach a week ago but you forgot to post it before.

"Exactly. Now, what are you wearing on that pic?" Her smirk widened as she started to undo the button of your jeans.

You didn't pay much attention to her moves, focusing on her orders. "A swimsuit. I mean, we were at th-"

She shushed you, pressing her lips against yours. She pulled away after a good minute, leaving you breathless. She forced the phone, which slipped off of your embrace while she kissed you, back between your fingers.

"Stop explaining yourself or I'll think you actually have something to explain. For now, I'm just asking simple questions. Do I look like I'm mad?" She held your chin with one of her hands, while the other was unbuttoning your formal-looking work shirt.

She really didn't look mad, but you knew it's just her ability to camouflage.

You let out a relieved sigh as soon as you catched your breath. "Oh. Right. Look, it's not a big deal, I told him I'm-"

"Busy. Yeah, I know." She cut you off. "Pretty pathetic excuse."

"What was I supposed to say?" You barely managed to say as she started tracing a path of messy, wet kisses from your neck down your body.

"Are you seriously asking me that?" She laughed and you could feel the vibrations in her breath caused by her sudden outburst on your stomach, right were she stopped to answer you.

You stayed quiet, not wanting to make it worse or seem even dumber in her eyes than you already do, if that's even possible. She noticed your confusion and didn't pressure you to read her mind.

"That you have a girlfriend. That she told you to post it. That she took this pic." She made a pause after every sentence to cling her tongue, followed quickly after with her mouth, to your core, watching your body slightly squirm. You didn't even realize when she arrived that low, and when she took off your underwear, but that wasn't important anymore. "That it was her idea to go to the beach. That she helped you pick your swimsuit. That she saw you in it first..."

"Els... Stop..." You moaned out, feeling jealous of how unbothered she looks while you were already soaking.

"Stop what?" She laughed, sucking on your clit while taking off her rings.

This simple, two-words question, turned out to be more difficult to answer than you'd thought. Actually, what did you had in mind while telling her to stop? Hers 'that she...' calculations? Her hand placement, which had a bruising grip on your thighs? Or her tongue, that had definitely affected you the most, making you drop the phone, screen-down on the bed, and hopefully hold into the bed sheets?

"That's what I thought." She said before you could think of a correct answer.

She had a whole scolding prepared in her mind, but you wasn't honoured to hear it as she had a better plan. Still, she wanted to talk to you through it, watching you do your best to answer or just understand her while she makes you look and feel like a total mess. In order to not leave your cunt hopelessly tremble, right after she took her tongue off of your clit, she pushed two fingers into your entrance.

You gasped, squeezing your thighs together, which made Ellie laugh. It was a normal reaction - her move was unexpected - but your eyes rolling back always got a reaction out of her.

"Back to the topic, want to tell me why you decided saying 'you're busy' will work?" She smirked, her fingers pumping in and out, clenching and unclenching, in a painfully fast and rough way. Her thumb rubbed your clit, replacing her tongue.

"I... If I-'d" You stuttered, taking a deep breath after every letter you managed to say.

"Y-Y...You what?" She mocked your mumbling, her smirk turning into a smile.

Your back arched, making your hips move higher, but Ellie held them down with her free arm. Even though her nails were trimmed short, so she won't have to worry she'll hurt your pretty cunt, you swore you feel them digging into your waist.

"That hurt-s..." You whispered, but you weren't really bothered by it, even though your eyes were starting to get teary.

"Yeah? Don't worry, I'm sure Steve would make it hurt more... if you'd give him a chance, that is. But you didn't and won't." Her free hand let go of your hip, taking your phone and staring at the unlocked screen, clearly thinking or considering something. "I know you're mine and you know that too." She finally concluded, but right before she put the device down, you got a notification.

She mischievously smiled as she saw who's the message from.

"You got yourself a fan." She laughed as she opened your conversation with the reason of her jealous behaviour. "'Still busy?' and a fucking winking emoji. Jesus, that's just embarrasing."

You couldn't help but admire how good her attention span was - one hand making you a whining mess, other typing on your phone, eyes barely looking away from you (only to read his text, she typed hers blindly), mind probably racing with ideas to make him, or you, or both of you, regret your little conversation. She was obviously overreacting, but then again, your profile was full of Ellie and there's no way he missed all the cute posts about her.

"Should I show him how 'stunning' you look right now?" She chuckled and shook her head. "Nah, this view is for me only."

"What d-id you do?" You stuttered, trying to take your phone back, but she placed it out of your reach and aggressively grabbed your wrist.

"I liked it more when you moaned instead of asking questions." And just as she said that, she got faster again, making your cunt tighten even more around her fingers. Even though it may seem she's not paying much attention to how precise she is, she kept violating your sensitive spot, not missing it once.

Your head hit the pillow, leaning back on it and exposing your throat from which many signs of your pleasure came.

She was wondering again, her eyes looking you up and down before finally staying at your face. Her smile faded as she looked at you for a few moments. Then, she picked up your phone and passed it to you, following by simple but stern words; "Block him."

Your hands were shaky, so instead of pressing the block button, you almost accidentally called him a few times.

Ellie's smirk came back as she looked at you obediently fulfill her requests. She knew she could make you do anything she wanted now, but she didn't feel the need to. The only thing she needed was you with her - her only.

She took the mobile from you, whispering soft 'good girl' as she saw you succeed to do what she asked you to.

"Next time, if someone bothers you, just tell me straight away." She patted your cheek, her focus going back to what's her right hand doing.