#ottocus lore

Otto’s hiccups had started early today. As soon as he stretched in waking his diaphragm gave an urgent tug producing a sharp and powerful HUCK-UCK!

No matter how dedicated Atticus was to sleeping in the writer awoke with a startle at the vocal and quickening case of their partner as he sat on the edge of their bed. He’d turned to them sheepishly.

“So-HUCK’uh! Sorry-hu’UCK!” he said, hand to his chest apologetically.

Even after several months of having discovered how prone Otto was to hiccups when they moved into his house, Atticus was always surprised and delighted to witness a case. And, of course, they were immediately aroused.

With mussed hair and glasses, which had been tossed on a little crookedly to see the clock maker better, they gave a wry smile. After Otto returned the smile with a smirk and eyebrow waggle of his own, the couple thoroughly enjoyed Otto’s ill-timed, but fully appreciated, diaphragmic glitch.

But the orgasm didn’t cure Otto’s hiccups and as the day went on, he feared it would end up being a longer case than normal as even eating breakfast with Atticus had little effect on the spasms. Fifteen minutes turned to half an hour. Half an hour was nearing the full hour mark. As Otto sat at his watch repair bench, he started to realize how difficult it was to deal with the delicate gears and pieces as his body continued to jolt. Those jolts were also starting to cause developing soreness in the middle of his chest, his neck, his shoulders, his sides, and a spot right under his ribcage.

The clock maker was at least grateful the hiccups had slowed down to a steadier pace. But while working on the large clock movements was only partially impeded by the spasms, working on a watch movement was proving to be nearly impossible with how much his body had started to react as weariness set in.

To top it all off, the hiccups were still so loud and sharp. Atticus had settled on the couch as they gave up on going back to sleep after the early morning excitement. They worked on a writing project. Otto worried his loudness was annoying or distracting, though Atty hadn’t mentioned anything. In fact, they were so quiet he hadn’t heard them at all during his attempts to work.

Looking through the eye loupe attached to his glasses, he once again attempted to align the gear with where it went on the watch movement using the smallest set of tweezers he had in his kit. Once again, a hiccup burst out of him and caused his hand to shake and, this time, he nearly flipped the tiny gear off the table when he lost grip on the tightness of the tweezers momentarily.

“Ugh!” he exclaimed in exasperation. “That’s it! hu’UCK! I give u-UCK! up!”

Carefully he put the small gear back in the section of the separated tray it had been retrieved from after cleaning and slid the incomplete watch further back from the edge, covering it with a cloth. Then he sat back in his work chair for a moment as he removed his glasses, eye loupe and all, closed his eyes, rubbed his chest, and took some slow breaths through his hiccups to calm down.

Otto’s hand trailed down to the space right beneath his ribs and settled there for a moment, feeling his body jerk between his breaths. Then he lay his hand on his belly and let it ride the strong pops, wincing when it would spasm two times back-to-back. He grunted and sighed after nearly every hiccup.

“Dammit,” he whispered mournfully, hoping he wasn’t facing one of his rare several-hour-long bouts as his body jerked again, seemingly unsympathetic to his worry.

Otto sighed finally and stood up turning off the lights above his workbench and sauntered into the living room sitting heavily on the couch. Initially, he assumed Atticus had perhaps gone back to bed. But he heard activity from the dining room area and frowned.

“Atti-HUCK!-uh! Atticus?” he called.

“In here!” they called out. “Almost set up!”

“Almost set u-UCK!mlk!-mm, set up for what?” he asked as he stood and made his way to the table in the room behind the walk-through kitchen.

His eyes widened, momentarily forgetting about his hiccups as he scanned the long table and took in the items placed along the length of it. First, three glasses of water were lined up. One had a knife in it, one a pencil across the top, and one was just a bare glass of water. Next, there was a jar of peanut butter with a spoon perched on top and another glass of water. (Otto wondered if they had any drinking glasses left in the cabinet...) After the peanut butter was a few handwritten pages. (Was Atticus planning to distract him with poetry?) Then, was a tray with a tablespoon filled with a white substance which may have been sugar followed by one with a larger grain similar to salt and a wedge of the lemon he was planning to use for the lemon chicken risotto he was making tonight. Lastly, was what looked to be a vinyl exam glove with a sticky-note on it that read:

Last Resort!

A loud hiccup escaped him as his mouth opened in surprise followed by two more back-to-back and he couldn’t help but wince again and rub his solar plexus as he whispered, “Ow...”

After all, his hiccups were lingering past the one hour point and they hadn’t relented in power since this morning despite being slower.

Atticus stood on the other side of the table facing him with a weary smile and a notebook in the crook of their arm, pen raised and ready as if conducting some sort of laboratory test. They pushed their over-sized frames up their nose with their knuckle.

Otto chuckled a little, earning another small three hiccup cluster. He gulped the last hiccup with a tuck of his chin as he shook his head, bemused.

“What’s um...HICK’k!” he said gesturing. Though he has a suspicion he knew exactly what it was.

“Cures! I...had to abbreviate them a little. Let’s just call this the first round. And if nothing here works, I’ve got more! But this is just...sorta...hitting all the bases. Of course, you know, minus breath holding which you’ve told me makes them worse,” Atticus said enthusiastically.

Otto widened his eyes and nodded slowly, then blinked at Atticus.

“This is...this i-HICK’uk!HNK!-mmm, this is abbre—abbreviated?” he asked incredulous.

Atticus took a breath, sheepish.

“Yeah…” they admitted shyly.

“Oh...okay-huck’GULP!-uh,” Otto said with a hard swallow at the last hiccup as he rubbed his chest. “How, um, how long have HEEYULP’K!, ooh! Scuse me. How long HUCK’ngk! have you been, um, pl—planning ULK! planning this?”

Atticus shrugged noncommittally.

“I dunno. Ever since you told me you’ve never found a cure that works, I’ve sort of been...collecting them? Fortunately, all of your cases have ended in a relatively short amount of time. You didn’t seem too bothered by them. These however...my dude…” they said and gave him a meaningful look.

Otto did nod wearily to this despite wanting to underplay the strength and discomfort of his hiccups.

“These are stu-UCK!-stubborn. They’re def—definitely lasting longer th-NK!-than my no-ERK!-mal cases,” he said. He paused as his body jolted silently, arm sliding around his stomach as his other hand continued to rest on his chest as he winced.

“Okay! Well...are you up for a little work shopping on cures then?” Atty said with obviously put on enthusiasm as uncertainty crinkled at the corner of their eyes.

Otto surveyed the collections in front of him again suspiciously, eyes holding at the medical glove with the sticky note attached with narrowed eyes. He pointed toward it and looked at Atty.

“Should I even hm’MK! ask about that-MMK!-that one?” he queried tentatively.

“Yeah, no, best not to. I...yeah...I really wouldn’t actually. It’s—mmm—yeah, no,” Atticus said shaking their head roughly.

Otto puffed out a sigh followed by another two more silent hiccups and nodded.

“Okay,” he decided, clapping his hands as his body jolted again. “Let’s see what HUCK’up! you got!”

Otto sat down and surveyed back over the collection of items again. Well, water seemed the obvious starting point so—

“AAAAARGH!!!!!”

Atticus screeched as they slapped their hands on the table loudly at either side of the glass Otto was reaching for.

Otto flinched hard and yelped, snatching his hand away from the glass to is chest. He looked up at Atticus with wide eyes and panted.

“What the-HUCK’UCK!HUCK! What…?” Otto stammered, hand to heart and angry face morphing into confusedly blinking. “Okay. Startle tactic is ineffective,” Atticus said in a soft rational voice as they added it to their notes. “Might have...actually made it worse?” They hissed a breath inwardly through their teeth. “Shoot. Sorry man!”

“Jeez!” Otto muttered, rubbing his chest as more hiccups bombarded him, speeding up acutely. They slowed back down shortly though after a few breaths. “You okay…?” Atticus asked tentatively. “Yeah Hu’UCK!-uh, yeah. Can I Hi’UCK! can I drink now or HUMP’k!-uh, do you pl—an on assaul-HUCK!-assaulting me again?” he asked, still a little twitchy.

“No more assaulting! Promise!” Atty said with their hands up.

Though they might’ve flinched forward as Otto reached for the glass again inspiring probably one of the most legitimately terrifying death stares their defined brow bone of a partner had ever given them, even with hiccups.

Atticus had the decency to clear their throat awkwardly and backed away, letting Otto proceed.

Drinking from a glass of water with a knife in it was difficult, but not so distracting it cured the hiccups. When Atticus placed the metal handle to Otto’s temple as the researched website recommended, it still failed. Otto watched Atticus scratch out something on their notepad and write something else as he went on to the next glass.

He was told to grip the pencil in his mouth horizontally, back teeth clenched around each end. While doing this, Otto attempted to take drinks from the second glass. The hiccups caused his head to jolt and his grip on the pencil to increase. He finally had to take the pencil out and shake his head. Every hiccup was making his teeth grip the pencil more and he could feel it start to crack inside his mouth.

“Sorry HILNGK!-uh, I don’t think th—at one’s gonna work eith-hi’ILMP! either!” he said rubbing the now tender corners of his mouth.

“Okay!” exclaimed Atticus, doing more writing. “That’s okay! This is just the beginning!”

The writer smiled a little frantically and Otto tried to figure out why that statement felt particularly ominous.

After trying drinking water upside down, a trick Otto was at least familiar enough with to know how to do without drowning, and drinking water while Atty put their fingers in his ears Otto’s bladder started to feel a little full.

“Lemme hu’UCK!-uh, lemme take a break. Hm’MMK! I need to-HI’uck! need to pee!” Otto said.

As the clock maker bee-lined it to the guest bathroom, Atticus sighed as they put the glasses in the dishwasher along with the knife and inspected the tooth-marked and slightly splintered pencil.

The writer could hear Otto’s hiccups from the other side of the bathroom door. They sounded and looked so uncomfortable and strong. But also, Atticus was ashamed to admit, they were still so arousing to them. Granted, they weren’t as arousing as they had been when they first started, but every squelch, grunt, and thump tickled the part of their brain where their fetish rested and triggered the electric and hyper-alert response of their senses.

They looked down at their notes.

Do not startle!! Doesn’t seem to respond to various swallowing maneuvers aimed at vagus nerve stimulation. Peanut butter might be ineffective as well. Or perhaps the stimulus will differ enough to fix?

Otto finally emerged from the bathroom with a wide-eyed look and then a little mirth.

“You know HUMPK’k, nobody tells you that-MMK!-that peeing while HIMP’k! hiccuping is so frustr—ating! Every HUCK’L!-every time I peed the str-NGK!-stream would stop when—when I hiccuped! Don’t worry HUCK! I cleaned u—up!” he said with a huffing laugh. “Probably TM-MMK!-TMI...”

Atticus grinned, raising their eyebrows.

“That has literally never occurred to me!” they said, surprised. And, really, they assumed they’d thought about every possible hiccup situation.

“What?!” Otto said, scrunching up his face in exaggerated disbelief, “You mean you n—n—ever HUP’K!, scuse me, never thought about someone’s HMK’M! someone’s bathroom habits wh-HUMP’K!-uh, while hiccuping?”

“I know...weird,” Atticus said genuinely.

Otto took an amused pause as he considered the tone, but was interrupted by Atticus’ enthusiasm for restarting the cures.

“Ooh! Do I get to MPK! try the pe-HIMP’K-peanut butter, now?” he asked rubbing his hands together as he sat back down.

“You do! One spoonful. Then drink it down with water,” they instructed.

“Yep!” Otto exclaimed. He was also familiar with this popular cure. He didn’t even care it had never worked; he really loved peanut butter.

The thick viscous sweet peanut butter coated his mouth and throat. Otto felt the spasms continue, the hiccups unbothered by the difficulty in swallowing. The unfortunate thing about this cure, Otto realized as he continued to moan at the tastiness of the throat blocking substance, was he actually wasn’t able to breath in for a bit which caused him to have to involuntarily hold his breath.

By the time he’d regained his air’s ability to pass through his throat unfettered by drinking water, the hiccups had picked up a little. While he also regretted worsening them for himself, he was almost more regretful of the crestfallen face of his partner as they noticed the opposite of what they’d hoped for happening.

“It’s okay HUP’K! I had—had to stop HMK!HUCK!ULK!-ugh, brea—thing with MK! with the HM’MK! peanut bu—tter MM! in my thr-UP!-throat!” he tried to console as he continued to wince through the attack. “Wish I co—uld have some hu’UCK! more though. Mmk!MMK! It’s s—so good…”

“Uugh!” Atticus grunted, head falling into hands briefly. When they looked back up, they saw Otto tentatively putting the spoon back into the peanut butter. Reflexively they slapped his hands. “Really, dude?!”

“Just a HU’uck! just a li—lick?” he asked sheepishly.

“Nooo!” Atty admonished. Okay, the writer admitted they were getting a little impatient and frustrated.

They took a breath to Otto’s disappointed face. “After we finish, okay? I just...don’t want you making them even worse cause…” Cause I’m getting too hot and bothered by your suffering to feel like a good person, the writer thought miserably, “...cause I really do want to cure these things for you.”

“...hmlk!...fine,” Otto relented, putting the spoon down.

“Okay. These,” Atticus said flapping the papers around a little, “are different kinds of cures. Mental.”

“Cra-HILK!-zy?” the clock maker asked, confused.

Atty laughed a little. Then they reached their hand over and tapped their partner on their forehead.

“Intellectual. Sort of...tricks to regain control of your body subconsciously,” they explained.

Otto opened his mouth in an ‘Oh’ in sudden understanding.

The hiccups were starting to slow down again from the peanut butter incident. He was grateful but he still rubbed his chest, pushing his fingers into his breastbone as it had started to ache. The motion was mostly reactive, and he was only half-conscious of it, but Atticus noticed it and their face softened.

“And...Otto...if none of these do work, I’ll give you a full torso massage and lay with you until they end,” they said softly.

Otto gave a genuine smile, a little relieved.

“I’d really HU’UCK!-uh, really like th—at,” he said. He held the writer’s hand when it was offered to him. He was hit with another silent barrage and sighed. “Atticus HUP! I don’t wan-HMK you to feel l-HNK!-like you have t-HMP!-to do this. I mean HICK’M! you know it’s n—not your fault,” he paused as a few silent hiccups hit him and put a fist over his mouth as he shook his head in annoyance.

“Sorry,” he continued. “Wh—when they get like this HUCK’m!HILK! it’s not your respo—sponsibility to stop them. MMK! I’m okay wa—aiting them out. I’ve don-HILP!-done it before.”

“I know it’s not my responsibility, Otto,” Atticus responded as they watched him suppress his hiccups while the writer spoke. “But it would be nice if it was something I could do for you. I definitely don’t want you to have to deal with 4-5 hours or beyond with them, if I can help it. If I can’t...I’ll just...try to make it less miserable. If I can. And...not lose my shit if I get aroused again!”

The last part they’d let fall out and they let their head fall into their hand in regret and shame.

“You’re aro-HUCK’UH!-uh, aroused?” Otto asked.

Atticus looked up slowly with a confirming whine. They’d expected to see something on Otto’s face like disgust or confusion. Instead, they saw amusement.

“Aww-huck’UCK!-uh,” Otto said as he rubbed his chest for what felt like the millionth time to try to ease the soreness and tightness the hiccups had caused. “I’m sorry HUCK’L!, Atty…”

The statement was so gentle and understanding and caring it cause the writer to become emotional. Atticus swallowed the emotion down and cleared their throat.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, you ridiculous man,” they said with a scoff. “Just my...miss-wired janky fetish brain. Not your fault I’m sitting here getting hot to your pain…”

“Mm,” Otto uttered, jumping with a couple of close hiccups before continuing. “Not compl-HEEK!-tly your fault, ei—ther. If it helps H’MUCK!-uh, knowing you’re ar—oused and trying to HICK’m! trying to hide it MK! sort of gets me a l—ittle hot, too.”

Atticus smiled a little not quite knowing if he was just saying that to make them feel better or if it was genuine but appreciated the sentiment regardless.

“If HU’UCK!MK!-uh, these things HMK! didn’t hurt so fu—ucking much...I’d HUP! I’d be into going f—for a second MK! round,” Otto admitted.

He was being uncharacteristically honest about how much discomfort he was in, which was telling. Atticus respected the honesty.

“Yeah, well, before you think about that any further let’s try these. Cause the way you keep eyeing that peanut butter makes me think your sense of self-preservation and respect for your comfort is just low enough you might actually do that,” Atticus half-joked.

Otto’s face opened in shock with a loud hiccup to join the expression. Atticus giggled as Otto shook his head.

“Called HILK! out! Damn! HU’UCK! That was bru—tal!” he said.

Atticus laughed, then, feeling a little lighter from their earlier guilt.

“Okay. Ready?” they asked.

Otto nodded, putting his chin propped to his hand to listen. He was aware of some of the intellectualizing methods to get rid of hiccups, as well. His head jostled his hand every second to few seconds as his hiccups kept coming while they employed methods like, “Listing all the bald men you know,” and “What did you have for breakfast yesterday morning?” and “Okay. Concentrate...I want you to hiccup for me right now,” and “I’ll give you five dollars if you hiccup one more time.”

Otto rubbed his fingers across his newly acquired five-dollar bill as he watched Atticus rub their hands tiredly underneath their glasses. Otto was mildly amusement at their exasperation but also disappointed as the spasms persisted, dull aches growing sharper with each hiccup.

“Okay,” Atticus said determinedly as they shifted another page. “One more. Then we’ll move onto the next one.”

“Okay. And then the HU’ILK!-ugh...the one af—after that? H’MUCK!UCK!-uh!” he asked.

Atty gave him a look and shook their head a little.

“Let’s...not discuss that one, yet,” Atty finally said.

Otto’s head jerked back and down as he took a hard gulp of another cluster of hiccups with a nod and a mild look of strain in his eyes before grunted at the end of the set.

Atticus gave him a sympathetic look and patted his hand from across the table.

“Alright. Have you heard of the vestigial gill theory?” Atticus asked.

Otto perked up a little, intrigued, and shook his head putting a hand over his mouth at a louder hiccup.

“There’s a theory,” Atty continued, “that hiccups come from—”

“Hey! HIGGUP!ULP!-uh, you didn’t stu—stutter that time!” Otto noticed in surprise.

“Yeah, when I talk about them scientifically, I can get the...word out easier, I guess. Anyway!” Atticus said, impatiently. “There’s a theory hiccups are some sort of throwback from when our species lived under water.”

“Really?!” Otto said, disbelieving. He held his hand lightly over his mouth at more hiccups.

“I dunno,” Atticus admitted. “I guess it’s why it’s a theory.”

“Theory or HUP! or hypo-UCK!H’UCK!-uh, hypothesis-MK!” he asked.

Atticus looked at him blankly.

“I...don’t know. It doesn’t matter…” they said with a shrug.

“J-UCK-just because if it’s HI’IP! a theory they—’ve researched it or H’MULK!-uh, or tested it but if HUCK! if it’s HLMP! a hypothesis HUCK! it’s just a—” Otto started.

“I don’t know, Otto! I...I actually have no idea. I found it in a medical article so maybe it’s...can we just…” Atty trailed off and made a circular motion with their hand indicating a desire to continue.

“Sure...HILP! Sorry,” Otto said holding up a hand in surrender.

“Okay. Thanks. So!” Atticus continued...again. “Because hiccups may originate from vestigial parts of our body related to our previously having gills, the diaphragm could be replicating an ancestral body action used originally to clear CO2 from our respiratory systems so we can use the oxygen in our blood streams.”

Otto shrugged at the pseudoscience but nodded dutifully in performative acceptance.

“As such, truly believing while saying the phrase, ‘I am not a fish’ outloud is anecdotally known to cure hiccups as it is believed to remind the body it no longer needs an outdated body reflex related to gills which no longer exist,” Atticus said. “So, one only needs to say, and truly believe, ‘I am not a fish’ in order to cure hiccups.”

Atticus held their hand open and nodded to him.

“So…”

“Ah…” Otto muttered with a heavy amount of skepticism. “Okay HULMPK!-mm. I am not a fish.”

The clock maker shrugged and waited. And waited. And frowned.

Atticus chanced a smile.

“I am going to be so angry if-HI’ULK!HUCK!Ulk!-ugh, ow! HI’ULK!-damn!” he said with a sigh. He was almost happy it hadn’t worked, but it would’ve also been nice if it had.

“Dammit…” Atticus agreed, face fallen.

“Guess I’m HI’ILK! a fish th-IP!-then!” Otto said with a groan.

“Good thing I’m a big fan of fishes,” Atticus said warmly and rubbed Otto’s hand again.

It was then the clock maker’s head rested on the table in exasperation, Atty stroked the top of scalp through his curls.

“I’m sorry, bud,” they said.

“I just re-HEK!-really wanna sto—stop hiccuping. HICK!-uh...HI’ILK!-uh...Hee’YULP!-ow!...Mmk!-mm, Mmmk!-mm, Hm’MMK!-mmmm!” he said, whining.

With each hiccup Atticus saw his body jump as his head left the table for a moment. They slipped their hand under his forehead so it would hit their soft fingers and not the hard table. He nuzzled into the hand with a huff and Atty couldn’t help but smile at how similar to a cat’s motion it was. Or a dog.

“Hey, ready to try another?” Atticus asked cautiously.

Otto dragged himself to sitting up with a tired grumpy look he didn’t try to hide. He rubbed his forehead with a frown.

“I’m so ti-HICK!-tired. Can this-HIMPK!-can this be the la—ast one?” Otto requested. He swallowed thickly at the slight burning in his throat. Oh good, the thought, acid reflux had decided to join the party. He held back another whine.

“Yeah, it can. The last one was more of a scare tactic anyway. I don’t think it’ll work, though,” Atty said. At Otto’s confused look they sighed, “Rectal massage.”

“Huh...hi’ULK! Tried that ac—actually. Not like...h’ULMP!-not officially but-ULK!-but pretty sure it di—didn’t work. The guy was ve—very talented HILK! though!” Otto said and the frowned. “I...pro—bably shouldn’t have Hu’UCK!-uh, shared that, huh?”

Atticus had put their chin on their hand and was smiling at him.

“I forgot how fucking gay you were,” they said.

Otto laughed weakly between his stubborn hiccups.

“At least I’m in go-h’OOK!-good company!” he said, gesturing to Atticus.

“Damn right, okay!” Atticus said with a tired sigh. “Uh, so this one was shared by a writer on that blog platform I’m on? She was told by a nurse friend who used to work in the ER who was told by a doctor who worked in the same ER this cure was 100% effective…”

“Sound’s fam-ilk!-familiar,” Otto said, monotone.

“I know. Well, this isn’t a manual maneuver like swallowing or a mental exercise or a startle response cure—”

“Oh I re-H’YULK!-uh, remember tha—at one!” Otto interrupted with a genuine glare.

Atticus gave a sheepish ‘ahem’ before continuing.

“Er...instead it’s, um, something about correcting the PH balance of your body? It proposes hiccups can be caused by an imbalance in CO2 which can be corrected by rebalancing your acid and alkaline levels,” Atticus said.

“The sugar,” they continued, “and the salt are for if you’re too...um...acidic, I think? And the lemon works for alkaline overages? I dunno, actually. It might be visa-versa. Regardless, you have to take them in this order: sugar, salt, and lemon. Dunno why it’s that way, either. So. You game?”

Atticus had run their hand through their dark, curly, thick hair so many times it had started to frizz and stood as frazzled as they felt while watching Otto continue to succumb to the long bout of painful hiccups.

“Mlnk! Sure,” Otto answered after the suppressed hiccup.

“You’ve got to let the sugar and salt dissolve. Don’t just eat them. Then the lemon. But you only have to do the lemon if, uh, if the other two don’t work first,” Atticus explained.

“Got HICK!t!” he said.

Atticus watched their partner go through each the sugar and the salt. They smiled as he made a visibly disgusted face when he poured the salt in his mouth from the spoon. Otto sat there grumpily as he waited for it to dissolve. Atty tried to hide their reaction of amusement, but Otto’s glare told them they weren’t doing a particularly good job of it.

“Okay,” Atticus announced with some regret. “Now the lemon…sorry…”

“Mm,” Otto said as he shook his head to their concern. It might have been placebo, but his hiccups didn’t hurt as much as they had. “I actually re—really like lemons. That salt was-hup!-was awful, though!”

Even though, Atticus made a face when Otto bit into the sour fruit. When he finished, he had a curious look on his face. He took a deep breath and let it out. Then he took another one. His eyes widened; mouth open a little.

Atty took a moment to catch up with the recognition of the cessation of his hiccups. When they did, they gasped softly.

“Did that work?!” they asked incredulously.

Otto glanced over to the side and swallowed. He closed his eyes and tried to feel the signature tightness beyond the soreness in his chest he got before each hiccup. When he opened his eyes again, he let out the most relieved sigh Atticus remembered ever hearing.

“Thank fucking god!” the clock maker exclaimed, hands covering his face fully in relief.

Otto put both of his hands on his chest and breathed in and out freely aside from the lingering soreness.

“So, you’re okay?” Atty asked.

Otto nodded enthusiastically.

“I mean, I’m still sore as hell, but I really thought I was just going to have to wait them out. I can’t believe you actually cured them. Holy crap! Thank you so much!” he said, taking a moment to cough a little at the dryness in his throat, thankful the action didn’t bring any hiccups back.

Atticus rounded the table standing beside Otto’s chair and hugged him, loving the rare moment of being able to actually embrace Otto in the same way as Otto embraced them from his height advantage.

Otto’s arms encircled Atticus’ waist as he embraced them back, him snuggling his face into their chest with a relieved sigh.

“Ugh,” he said, “I do think I need a nap, though. Hiccuping that much is exhausting.”

“I’ll do you one better. Let’s lay down on the couch and you can use my lap as a pillow and I can massage some of those sore muscles and you can fall asleep and I get back to work on my writing unless, of course, I end up falling asleep, too. But honestly, I’ll probably just end up doomscrolling at this point.”

The writer stumbled a little.

“Ha! Dude!” they exclaimed, “That’s if you don’t fall asleep sitting up on my chest first, though!”

Atticus rubbed at Otto’s head as his breathing had slowed and the weight of his lax muscles started pushing their smaller body back.

“H’muh?” Otto muttered as he’d started to drift. “Mm, yeah. I mean, yeah, on the couch is better. Jeez, I really am worn out. Hoo boy. Mm.”

About fifteen minutes later, Atticus was still wandering a hand along Otto’s slowly rising and falling chest at their lap as their other hand scrolled through a social media feed, the only thing preventing them from succumbing to a nap as well.

2008: Otto (29) starts recovery after having to be hospitalized with pancreatitis and alcohol poisoning. Atticus (25) moves away from home to a bigger city in their state with a couple of roommates. They intended to go to a college for writing but find they don’t have the funds so they start working at a grocery store instead. They have no yet started transition nor have they realized they’re nonbinary.

2013: Otto (34) meets Mark (27) while being wrongly accused of a crime. Atticus (30) continues to work at the grocery store but is now living alone. They have still not started transition.

2016: Mark (30) starts living with Otto (37) after things become too difficult living with Jana while she is in recovery. Mark agrees they are bad for each other, but it becomes clear Otto will be helping him through the break-up whether he wants to or not. Atticus (33) starts trying to figure out their identity. At this point, they’ve come to the conclusion they are asexual. The rest is denied for the feeling of appropriation of a subculture they long to be a part of.

2018: Jana has gone through a court hearing (featuring Attorney Alice against her) for the death of a beloved dog during a routine surgery. Negligence is allegedly the reason possibly caused by Jana’s continued drug use despite her recovery plan. Mark (32) spirals as after the hearing and her license being suspended Jana decides to move states, go into an intense recovery plan, and start life anew. Alice gives her the best deal possible with the verdict when hearing and connecting with Jana’s life story on a personal level. After the trial she reveals this to Mark, knowing she shouldn’t. Otto (39) supports Mark as much as he can. Atticus (35) moves back to their hometown to take care of their mother who is having trouble living alone. Their identity journey is put on hold as they attempt to be available to her needs. Simultaneous to this, Atticus has to have a medically required surgery to remove their uterus. They’re overjoyed at the surgery, but still have no idea why it feels so good.

2019: Otto (40) experiences a rebound, falling off the wagon (and off his roof) after Sera, an ex he had a volatile relationship with throughout his youth, dies of overdose after calling Otto and begging him to come and see her. Otto sets a boundary and says only if she’s sober. Finally, after getting no response for a day, he goes over to the address she sent and finds her overdosed in the hotel she was staying. Otto calls Mark (33), beside himself. A couple days later he gets a confusing call from Otto while he’s at work. He drives over only to find Otto on the roof of his house drunk and, after Otto says some pretty offensive shit to him, he falls off breaking his arm. They end up at the hospital and learning how inflamed his pancreas had become with only one (extremely intense) alcohol binge. With the help of his sponsor, Mark, and a few other friends Otto is able to get back into recovery. Atticus (36) and their mom discover she has liver cancer and treatment begins. Concurrently, Atticus starts to take T and begins to plan for top surgery. But surgery keeps getting postponed with the greater level of care their mom requires.

2020: Mark (34) has been living with Otto (41) for four years, but his relationship with Alice gets more serious and eventually he moves in with her and her daughter. This leaves Otto alone for the first time in a while. Mark notices this and tries his best to keep tabs on his friend. Margie has been in the picture and becomes a close confidant of Otto despite him having asked her out before he knew she was a lesbian. When Cindy comes into Margie’s life, she also plays an important role in keeping Otto from being completely isolated as he was before Mark was living with him. Game night is once a month and Otto is at every one. Atticus’ (37) mother dies. They pick up their life and head to a new state and city, the state and city where Otto resides. They get top surgery and go from working at a grocery store to focusing on trying to make it as a writer. They are surprisingly successful, though money is tight. Atticus’ apartment is broken into right before Christmas and the detective on the case, Mark, suggests Otto when Atticus mentions the only thing of worth anything they cared about was their family mantel clock, which was broken in the robbery.

2021: Mark (35) and Alice get married. Later that year, they have a son. Atticus (38) and Otto (42) become closer. Though Atticus still prefers the term queer platonic partnership, Otto is happy to be with them. Game nights are far more amusing. Atticus bonds with Otto’s friends, having no friends of their own in the city, yet. After Christmas they move in together, Otto being nervous about Atticus living in an apartment with a growing crime problem.

2022: Margie and Cindy get married. At this point Atticus (39) begrudgingly admits they’re a couple. But they emphasize their demi-romantic status. Otto (43), again, is thrilled just to be in a relationship with them at all. Around January, Atty first learns about Otto’s hiccup proneness and Otto learns about their fetish. Otto shares his fetish and their bond deepens exponentially.

2023: Atticus (40) proposes to Otto (44) on Valentine’s Day. They get married that same year.

2024: Near the beginning of the year, Otto (45) nearly succumbs to drinking again after the death of his mom from the same cancer that ended Atty’s mom’s life, but Atticus (41) is there to interrupt the action and support him by contacting his sponsor and Otto attends meetings more frequently. Otto celebrates their birthday that year at an Antique’s Store and gives them a banjo clock as a gift.

“So, don’t freak out,” Otto said as he appeared in front of Atticus while they sat up in bed after waking.

Otto looked a little...wilder than usual. His hair was a little more frazzled. His eyes somehow seemed larger, though they had faint shadows of exhaustion under them. He held his hands up to the writer as if to defend himself from whatever reaction he was hoping to prevent. His long finger splayed in front of Atticus’ eyes and the writer followed them to his palms and then to his face, blinking themselves into a state of alertness they deemed necessary to process Otto’s unusual request.

It was mid-December of the first year they’d lived together. As such, Atticus had not quite assimilated to all of Otto’s quirks, nor Otto to theirs. So, what should they expect when faced with the words ‘don’t freak out’?

It took more than a moment to form a response which seemed to leave Otto bouncing on the balls of his feet and biting his lip in anticipation.

“Pro-tip,” Atticus finally said, voice still hoarse from sleep, “the words ‘don’t freak out’ rarely succeed in calming someone down.”

Otto balled his hands up to his mouth with a solemn nod.

“Okay,” he said as he fanned his hands back out in gesticulation, “that’s a fair point.”

Atticus snorted a soft laugh at the concession.

“What, exactly, am I not supposed to freak out about?” they asked.

“What...is your opinion on decorating for the holidays?” he asked with forced casualness.

“Um...I like it? I mean, I rarely have the energy to do it myself, but I like Christmas. I might not believe in the...anything of it, but the décor was always kind of nostalgic,” Atticus admitted.

“Good!!” Otto said with so much enthusiasm and loudness it caused Atticus to visibly jump. “Sorry! Good. Good. That’s good. Cause...when you walk downstairs...I...just...know that I really love decorating for Christmas. I’m on the same page as you with the believing but...just…”

Otto’s face became a little desperate as he searched for words and got caught up with passion.

“I really like Christmas decorations. A lot,” he finally said.

“O...kay,” Atticus said slowly fitting the pieces of the puzzle together. “Did you...did you stay up all night decorating?”

“No!” he said with a finger pointing upward in front of him, “I got up in the middle of the night and decorated! I wanted to surprise you. But then I thought, what if they don’t like it? We haven’t talked about it. And didn’t they say they were Jewish? But they aren’t practicing? I don’t know if you’re practicing. I don’t think we’ve ever discussed it actually. Why haven’t we discussed it? I guess it’s not something you just talk about, is it? Or maybe something bad happened to them on Christmas and I’m just going to be inciting some traumatic event by reminding them of Christmas. So, I wanted to warn you and...and if you want me to take it down...give me a few hours because it’ll take a whi—”

Atticus had grabbed his wandering hands in front of him to stop his words. It had worked surprisingly well as he now stared down on them owlishly as they stood in front of him smirking.

“I love Christmas decorations, and I really want to see them,” they said.

Otto gifted them with a wide grin.

“Okay! Okay, good! C’mon!” he said as he led them downstairs.

The first thing Atticus noticed was lights. No, actually the first thing Atticus noticed was garland on the banister. Well, no, the first thing Atticus noticed was an explosion of reds, greens, golds, and shining decorations literally everywhere they turned their head. It was overwhelming and they walked slowly as they took in how the living room, dining room, and entire downstairs area had been taken over by meticulously placed and organized decorations culminating in an impressively realistic artificial tree in the corner of the living room next to the front window.

In the perimeter of their awareness, they heard Otto excitedly explaining the history of the nut crackers, the glass blown ornaments, the vintage strings of light, and various other characteristics of the veritable winter wonderland he’d created.

“...all from Germany. My dad’s side of the family. I have a vintage train set I used to bring out, but it’s honestly too much trouble to put it up anymore and it sort of blocks the flow of the house. And honestly? I’m not really into trains? Like, I know, right? I seem like a person who would be totally into trains, but they’re not really my thing. I can’t bring myself to get rid of it, though. Too sentimental, I guess. Maybe one day I’ll set it up again. Or maybe I can donate it to someone who would appreciate it. I dunno. Haven’t really looked into it…” Otto continued to babble until he noticed Atticus’ face taking all of the decorations in.

“Dude…” Atty finally said.

Otto’s eyes widened as he tried to figure out exactly what the statement of awe implied.

“Is that a good ‘dude’ or…” he asked.

Atticus simply turned to him with eyes wide behind their large glasses. A grin slowly grew on their face until it stretched into their cheeks and pushed into their eyes.

“Duuude!” they exclaimed. “This is awesome!”

Otto grinned and bounced on his feet.

“Yeah? Really? You don’t think it’s too much? I mean, I’d totally get it if you thought it was too much,” he said quickly.

“No-I-this is amazing! I can’t believe you did all of this in less than a night! I...well...the nutcrackers are kind of creepy. I like them but...something about nutcrackers. I think I was way too impressionable when I saw The Nutcracker performance. But they’re really cool, still! And...oh my gosh this tree! Man! Holy moly. This is just...like...it feels so warm and cozy!” Atticus said, beaming.

“I know! Right? That’s what I think! It’s-it’s why I do it every year. I...before my dad died, he used to decorate our house like this every Christmas. Our mom was never too into it so after he was gone it was just...you know...the basics,” he said as his fingers toyed with themselves in explaining.

“But, um, you know I actually inherited this house,” he continued. “Sorta. Kinda. After I got into recovery and was making amends I was encouraged to reach out to my uncle, my dad’s brother, by my sponsor. My therapist at the time thought it was a good idea, too. My uncle said there was this house here that he owned. My great aunt used to live here. He thought one of my cousins might want it, but they were already married and set up where they wanted to be, so he offered it to me. It came with so many things, and he told me I could do whatever I wanted to with them. Most of it I kept. Just...the history, y’know? And all of these decorations. Then I asked my mom if I could have the decorations from dad’s collection. And, you know, she made it this big thing. But she gave them to me eventually. Anyway.”

Atticus listened and nodded, scanning the scene again as he explained the history. They noticed how very old the ornaments were at that point. Timeless. Or, perhaps, trapped in time? They couldn’t pinpoint it, but they felt as if they’d stepped into a greeting card or the pictures in a book. Even the lights seemed to give the house a sepia feel. It gave them a swelling of emotion they didn’t exactly expect; they rubbed their hand on their chest at it.

“Yeah. Yeah, you know...my mom...she didn’t really care for Christmas,” Atticus said, “But, for my sake, she decorated every year despite it. My mom didn’t have great memories of her family. But she did have some ornaments. I kept them with me. Some stuff from when I packed up at her apartment after she died, I still have in boxes in the loft bedroom. Um...she was always surprised how much Christmas meant to me. But I’ve always loved it.”

Atty felt Otto’s arm around them and found themselves leaning into the softness of his side.

“My dad,” they continued, “he wasn’t really practicing. He had a menorah. I have that, too. Sometimes I give a light-hearted attempt at celebrating. But I wasn’t really brought up religiously Jewish. I think my mom made more of an attempt to connect me with that part of my culture than my dad ever did.”

“Yeah?” Otto said. “Well, if you want you are more than free to add anything you have. I mean...that would actually be pretty great. Mmk! I’d mmk! I’d li—like to se-mp!-see those ornaments and mk!mk! and men—norah! Heh. I thi-himp!-think the ex-ip!-excitement himp’k! gave me mmk! the hiccups!”

Atticus had felt a flush take over their body from the first soft jostle they’d felt as his side. They shivered involuntarily and Otto had the audacity to bring them closer into his body. Though, to be fair, Atty didn’t resist.

“Oh no…” Atticus said weakly with very little attempt at genuineness. They smiled up at the tall clock maker as he placed his hand on his chest and grinned sheepishly.

Still fairly new to celebrating their shared arousals Otto rocked them with his body as he shifted weight from one foot to the other feeling the thumps of his diaphragm pull at his abdomen and jerk his head.

“Guess herp! guess this hmm! is our fir—irst hmp! gift of the hup’k!hmp! of the season!” he said as he looked shyly down at them.

“You want to…” Atty said as they couldn’t resist putting a hand on his stomach to feel the movements “...open the present down here or upstairs?”

“Hmmhmmmk!-mm!” he said, rubbing his chest at the deepness of that one. The hiccups were getting stronger with his increasing arousal as he watched and felt Atticus’ reactions and their struggle to keep themselves together.

“May-hmm!-maybe upsta-huh’mmk! upstairs?” he suggested. “HU’ULK! Oh, excuse me! Hnk!-uh. huULK!-uh.”

Atticus let out a shaky breath at the quickening hiccups and his apology for the loud hiccup.

“Yeah. Yeah-yeah. Upstairs. Like, now,” they said, urgently.

With that same sense of urgency, the couple rushed to their shared bed. Lying next to each other, against each other, Atticus nearly on top of Otto with how close they were, they fed off of one another’s moans and sounds and movements as they masturbated simultaneously until they found themselves breathless and spent.

Atticus heard themselves vocalizing their pleasure excitedly as Otto’s hiccups continued and became worse, faster, as he gasped in his own excited self-administrations. Atty grew more and more aroused with every quickened breath and moan choked off by hiccup clusters hardly giving him space to breathe.

At one point the writer remembered looking up to make sure Otto was still okay as the hiccups hit him in such quick succession. The sounds ran into each other, gasping croakily in his throat as if he was experiencing one elongated hiccup instead of a cluster of several. But their concern was temporary as they only saw in Otto’s closed eyes an expression of intense arousal, brow furrowed as his body curled with the rhythmic administrations of his hand to himself. And then he vocalized a sighing moan before more hiccups interrupted him.

The visual electrified and quickened Atticus’ own pleasure and, though their climaxes were staggered they weren’t that far apart as they both eventually ended up lax and spent. Atticus’ head found its way to Otto’s chest and Otto’s arm wound around their body as they both gasped and panted into calmer breathing.

Otto’s diaphragm didn’t make it easy to calm his breathing, though, as it still tugged at his lungs in strong spasms.

“H’muuck!-uh. Hm’mmk!-mm. Guess they’re mmk! stubborn toda-hup’k!-today! Scuse me! Hrmk!-mm. Mm!mm!hmmk’m!-uh. Jeez. HU’UPK! Whew,” he said as he rubbed his chest and belly.

“Dang, those sound so strong, still,” Atticus noted, the buzz and afterglow softening their arousal reaction leaving them more concerned than turned on.

“Yeah they huh’mmk!-uh, they are a li-hip!-litt—little. Damn. HULP!HUP!-oof. They’ll mmk!hmp! they’ll calm do-hup!-down after hm’mmk! after a whi—ile, I think,” he said.

“Hope so,” Atticus said as they rubbed his jiggling and popping stomach sympathetically.

Otto smiled at the gesture.

“Have you eaten breakfast, yet?” they asked.

The question gave Otto pause.

“No actu—actually. HUP!-ooh. Sorry. Wonder hmk! wonder mk!mk!mm!…” Otto said and paused as his head and stomach jerked silently a few more times at the rapid attack before slowing again as he sighed. “Ugh. Mm. Wonder if th—that would hup! he—help! hu’uuck!”

“Let’s find out,” Atticus offered.

As it turned out, having food helped a great deal in slowing Otto’s hiccups. Sitting in the kitchen he watched Atticus stare into the living room, head leaning in hand, as they ate their eggs distractedly.

Otto’s hiccups hadn’t stopped completely, yet, but he could tell they were on the way out. He was relieved to have been given some more breathing room, and his throat was starting to feel less irritated with the cool water he was drinking. He smiled as Atticus’ attention continued to be distracted by his decorations.

“You reall—really do like them don’t y—don’t you?” he said as he swallowed another bite of eggs.

“I really do,” Atticus confirmed. They turned back to Otto with a soft smile. They gave his belly a gentle pat. “How’s your diaphragm?”

“Calming down, thankfully,” he said. His body bounced again with another silent spasm. “Mm. That was a nice surprise, though.” He jerked again and took another drink of water to ease his throat.

“Mmm. Yeah, it was. Thank you. I know you didn’t plan it, but thanks anyway. Heck, if advent calendars had gifts like that, I might consider actually participating!” Atticus said in humor.

Otto chuckled and released a small hup!

“Twelve days of—of hiccuping might be a little much. E—even for me,” he said.

“No kidding,” Atticus said with a nod of agreement.

“You know you’re not the only one who g—gets something out of it, right?” Otto asked.

Atticus shrugged.

“Yeah, but you do more for it,” they said, brushing off the comparison.

“Mm, I don’t really see it that way,” he said. He swallowed another mouthful of food and noticed a distinct lack of tickle in the back of his throat. Breathing in through his nose he confirmed the case had come to an end. “Having the hiccups isn’t something that takes effort, y’know? I just, sorta, it just happens! And it-it doesn’t really bother me to have them. Not really. So, don’t think you’re expecting me to sacrifice myself to any sort of, I dunno, laborious physical action. Hiccups are just...part of my life, I guess. And having you admire them and get aroused by them is, well, really convenient!”

Atticus was facing him now. Their eyes studied him as he spoke. They took a breath, trying to take in the truth of what he’d said.

“You’re sure? They don’t...they don’t bother you too much?” they asked.

Otto shook his head enthusiastically, lowering his eyebrows in emphasis.

“No, man! Seriously! I would have them if you found them arousing or not! I’m just...glad they don’t annoy you. The fact they please you is sort of a bonus! For both of us! Cause...cause when you get all hot and bothered and flustered I just...mm. Man. It gets me really nng! Y’know?!” he said as he bounced in his chair a little.

“Oh, I know ‘nng’ all too well!” they said with a smile.

Otto chuckled.

“Well...I guess Happy Holidays, then! To both of us!” Atticus said.

“Happy Holidays,” Otto agreed emphatically. “And, who knows, we might get a couple more advent presents today. This little dome shaped muscle feels frisky.”

Otto rubbed under his ribs.

“Oof. You tease!” Atty exclaimed.

“I would never!” Otto rebuked.

“Careful. Santa Clause will get you for lying…” Atty said.

“Actually, no, that would be Krampus,” Otto said.

“...What’s a Krampus?”