#sneezes

Shane has a love/hate relationship with his annual summer colds. On the one hand, he’s thankful they always hit him at the end of the season, so there’s no interfering with hockey. On the other hand, it sucks to start out his vacation while sick. He supposes he can’t complain too much though, with him and Ilya now being married and on the same team, it’s inevitable that Ilya would also catch what Shane has, they’ve never been good at keeping their hands to themselves.

Shane’s in bed cuddled up to Ilya for the night, his head on Ilya’s chest. They decided to head to bed early, Shane’s symptoms of the cold that he’s certainly coming down with getting worse as the day progressed. Shane’s reading a new book (surprisingly, not about hockey for once) and Ilya is scrolling through something on his phone. His glasses are on, the lights are dim, and his eyes are heavy. He feels himself starting to nod off when there’s suddenly a very telling itch in his nose, causing him to bolt up right.

“Shane? Is everything okay?” Ilya asks, moving to sit up right with him.

Shane nods and buries his face into his elbow. “I have to – hPNXTch! hehPNXTch! Sneeze… Excuse me.”

“Bud'te zdorovy,” Ilya says, pressing a kiss to the side of Shane’s neck.

Shane, who still has his face buried in his elbow, turns to his nightstand to grab a tissue, only to find that the box he normally has there is gone.

“Ilya, do you have tissues on your nightstand? I must have run out and not replaced the box.”

Ilya doesn’t answer, but turns to his nightstand. Instead of grabbing tissues, Shane hears him open the little drawer and pull something out. He gives Ilya a confused look when Ilya places a bunch of differently colored fabric squares on his lap.

“What are these?” Shane asks, face still buried in his elbow.

“Is… I don’t know English word. Like Cloth tissue?” Ilya sheepishly hands him one.

Shane takes it in his hand but doesn’t use it quite yet. “Do you mean a handkerchief?”

“Yes, is that. Handkerchief.” Ilya says the word slowly, but looks proud of himself after.

Shane laughs. “Ilya, why did you buy handkerchiefs?”

“For your nose. You buy fancy tissues with lotion but they still make your nose red and hurt after you use too many. These are much softer, better for your cute nose. Now use.”

Shane feels himself blush up to his ears. He finally takes the handkerchief in his hand, brings it to his nose, and blows. He has to admit, it's softer than any tissue he’s ever used and feels much better than them too.

“Much better, yes?” Ilya questions, giving Shane a knowing smile. Shane’s about to answer when his breath hitches and he feels like he’s about to sneeze again. Wordlessly, Ilya hands him a new handkerchief.

“HPNXTchoo! HeptSHiew! Fuck, excuse me,” Shane says with a sniffle. He puts down the handkerchief he just sneezed into and reaches back to the first handkerchief Ilya handed him, blowing his nose into that one. Ilya chuckles and Shane raises an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”

“I am very glad I bought larger pack. I thought you would need at least two, one to catch sneezes and one to blow your nose, and I was right. Bud'te zdorovy, moya lyubov'.”

“You know me very well,” Shane blushes. He wiggles his nose a few times trying to quell another set of sneezes.

“I do, moy zaichonok.” Ilya smiles and kisses Shane’s nose with a knowing smirk.

“HehPNXTch! HehSHiew! Really?” Shane says, exasperated.

“Yes, sweetheart. You needed those, you were wiggling your nose. Bud'te zdorovy.”

“Thank you,” Shane finally lays back down as Ilya pulls him onto his chest, blowing his nose into the nose blowing handkerchief as he settles. “Wait a minute, you said you bought the larger pack. How many did you buy?”

“Pack has one hundred.”

Shane nearly sits up again to stare at his husband but Ilya’s arms are wrapped around him. “One hundred? Ilya, I do not need that many.”

“Is true, you do not. But I will also use when I am sick or am having allergies. Plus you will use a few once they get too wet for your liking, and considering what happens when we have sex–”

“Okay! Okay, I get it. Probably a smart decision,” Shane says, clearly flustered.

“Yes, I am full of those,” Ilya replies, and laughs when Shane playfully hits his chest. Ilya then hands Shane quite a few handkerchiefs. “Here, for your nightstand. Mine can barely fit them all.”

Shane takes the handkerchiefs after stealing a quick kiss and rolls to his side to put them away. As he does, Ilya grabs his ass and starts kissing the side of his neck.

“Ilya…”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“What are you doing?” Shane damn near purrs as Ilya starts biting at his neck.

“Loving my husband,” Ilya says into Shane’s neck.

“You were the one who suggested going to bed early tonight.” Shane reminds him.

“Ah, I suggested getting into bed early tonight. Not sleeping early tonight,” Ilya leans over Shane with a mischievous glint in his eyes, one Shane has come to know all too well. Ilya continues with his ministrations, and his hands start wandering up and down Shane’s chest.

“Ilya,” Shane warns, feeling himself start to get hard.

“Is something wrong, Shane?” Ilya questions, smirking. He’s too damn smug for his own good and Shane loves him for it.

“No, but if you’re not careful I’m going to start sneezing again and I don’t want it to get all over you.”

“Oh, but lyubimyy, you sound so stuffy and you will feel much better if you sneeze it out. Sex is good decongestant, yes?”

“How the hell do you know that?” Shane asks, eyes wide.

“Google,” Ilya responds, his hands traveling lower down Shane’s body.

“I don’t want you to get this cold either,” Shane moans. Ilya’s hand palms Shane through his boxers and Shane is positive he’s about to sneeze on his husband when a handkerchief is suddenly pressed to his nose. “In’gsh! Nn’gsh! Nn’gSH! Nn’gSH! In’gsh! Excuse me.”

“Bud'te zdorovy, solnishko. Do not worry about me, I will catch your cold anyway. I can hold handkerchief to your nose if it makes you feel better.”

“Spasibo,” Shane moans as Ilya palms him harder. The Russian thanks gets a rise out of Ilya, he practically growls as he pulls Shane’s boxers down. Ilya grabs lube that somehow got on the bed at some point and pours some in his hands, before taking Shane’s dick in them, which sends Shane into another fit.

“Oh, god. Nn’gsh! In’gsh! Nn’gSH! N’gSH! In’gSHH! Nn’gSH! Oh, fuck me.”

“Am working on it sweetheart,” Ilya promises. “Bud' zdorov, bud' zdorov, bud' zdorov, bud' zdorov, bud' zdorov, bud’ zdorov, ya tebya lyublyu,” Ilya whispers into his skin.

Shane moans and nods as Ilya moves from his dick to start opening him up, continuing to sneeze. “ya tebya lyublyu,” Shane says through his sneezes.

True to his word, Ilya holds a handkerchief to Shane’s nose the whole time, even grabbing new ones when the previous ones get too wet for what he assumes is Shane’s liking. Shane swoons at just how well Ilya knows him and his sensory needs and preferences. In his wildest dreams he could never imagine having all of this, being known so deeply that words are not needed.

Ilya grabs another new handkerchief and holds it to Shane’s nose once he’s cleaned them both up. “Blow, rodnaya, and bud'te zdorovy,” he instructs.

Shane does as Ilya says with a small shake of his head, making Ilya softly chuckle. “Thank you,” he whispers, once Ilya takes the handkerchief away. “For all of this. For knowing me and loving me and being you.”

Ilya looks at him with what can only be described as pure love in his eyes. “You are welcome, lyubimyy. Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Shane pulls Ilya into one more kiss before Ilya shuts off the lamp on his nightstand. When Ilya lays back down Shane’s head finds its way to Ilya’s chest, as it always does. Shane feels a kiss pressed to the top of his head and hears something in Russian murmured into his hair, but he’s too spent and it’s too soft for him to understand what was said.

“ya tebya lyublyu,” Shane replies anyway.

“Spokoynoy nochi, ya lyublyu tebya bol'she vsekh na svete,” Ilya says.

russian translations:

bud'te zdorovy = bless you

moya lyubov = my love

moy zaichonok = my bunny

lyubimyy = beloved

solnishko = little sun

spasibo = thank you

bud' zdorov = bless you

ya tebya lyublyu = i love you

rodnaya = dear

Remi nearly managed to stifle it against Levi’s shoulder, but the soft, desperate sound still jolted Levi from sleep, his eyelashes fluttering up in slow confusion.

He didn’t pull away.
Didn’t tense.
Just murmured, “…Bless you…” in a voice still weighted with dreams.

Remi’s arms tightened reflexively around him, a fever-heavy embrace that trembled almost imperceptibly.

“Mmnn… sorry,” he mumbled, the words gravel-soft and exhausted. “Didn’t mean t’wake you…”

“You didn’t,” Levi whispered, though his voice wavered with how recently he had been asleep. He lifted one sleepy hand and rested it over Remi’s forearm, thumb brushing gently back and forth. “You okay…?”

Remi didn’t answer with words.
He simply nuzzled in again—pressing his forehead into Levi’s neck, letting out a warm, shaky exhale that tickled Levi’s skin.

But a moment later, Remi tensed.

His breath hitched again, sharper this time.
Levi felt it before he heard it—the sudden tightness in Remi’s chest, the involuntary clutch of Remi’s fingers at his side.

“Hh—hih…”

Levi blinked, realizing what was coming. “Rem…?”

Remi tried to bury the sneeze into the blanket to spare him, but fever had dulled his coordination and instincts alike. He tilted forward slightly, breath trembling.

“Hh’… ngh—’isshh…!”

The half-stifled sneeze puffed warm air against Levi’s collarbone. Remi groaned weakly afterward, embarrassment flickering across his face even though Levi couldn’t see it.

Levi only rubbed his arm in slow circles. “Bless you… again.”

Remi let out a frustrated, congested sound that wasn’t quite a word. His glowing green eyes—dimmed to a foggy, fever-dulled shade—squeezed shut. He tried to relax, tried to settle his breathing, but another tremor ran through him.

“Hh… h-hh…”
He sniffed hard, trying—and failing—to stop the rising tickle.

“Remi,” Levi murmured, voice gentle but fondly exasperated. “Don’t fight it.”

Remi’s reply was a rough whisper into Levi’s hair. “I’m tryin’… t’nnnot—hih—wake you…”

“You already did.”

Remi’s breath stuttered helplessly.

“Hh—H'ihhSHHhhiew! iit’shHIEW!”

This time, the sneezes rocked his whole body, curling him forward around Levi rather than away. Levi tightened his arms slightly, steadying him through the force of it.

When Remi slumped back again, exhausted, Levi shifted enough to look over his shoulder. Remi’s cheeks were flushed, brows knotted, his nose pink and running. He looked miserable—and heartbreakingly soft.

Levi brushed a few strands of black hair off Remi’s forehead. “Hey,” he whispered. “It’s okay. Really.”

Remi pressed into the touch without hesitation, eyes fluttering shut. Fever made him seek warmth unconsciously—made him cling, nuzzle, and breathe softly against Levi’s skin like he was trying to ground himself in the presence he trusted most.

“…Sorry,” Remi murmured again. Softer this time. Less coherent. “Didn’ wanna stop holdin’ you…”

Levi’s heart squeezed, warm and achy.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m still here.”

Remi gave a small, sleepy hum in response, his arms drawing Levi even closer. Their legs resettled, tangling naturally, and Levi relaxed fully into the embrace, letting Remi’s fever-heavy weight mold around him.

Their breaths synced gradually—
slow, tired, stuffy—
their bodies fitting together like they always had a place to return to.

They lay like that for several long, warm minutes.

Until Remi’s breath hitched again.

Levi sighed, already resigned. “Go on.”

Remi barely managed a warning sound before he sneezed once more—small this time, almost delicate compared to the others.

“Hihh’ISSHh!”

Levi smiled into the blankets. “Bless you, Acushla.”

Remi, already half-asleep again, let out a soft whuff of breath, nuzzling into the curve of Levi’s neck with a needy, fever-drowsy affection he rarely allowed himself when awake.

The room settled into quiet once more, dim and safe and warm.
And Remi held Levi like he was something steady to anchor him, even through sickness and sleep.

Levi lay still for a few long breaths, letting the fog of sleep settle just enough for him to notice the details he’d missed a moment before.

Remi was burning.
His skin was hot, fever heat radiating through the blankets and into Levi’s arms. Levi could feel the uneven rise and fall of Remi’s chest against his back, each breath thick and heavy with congestion. Every exhale came out warm and damp against Levi’s neck, hitching faintly near the end like Remi’s lungs were struggling to keep up.

Levi shifted very slightly, turning just enough to face him. Remi loosened his hold but didn’t let go, his arm slipping from Levi’s waist to rest low on his ribs instead. His eyes were half-lidded, unfocused, the glow dimmed to a foggy green-grey.

Levi lifted a hand and brushed Remi’s messy bangs away from his forehead.
The moment Levi’s fingers touched his skin, Remi leaned into the touch—soft, instinctive, needy in the gentlest way. Like a sick, sleepy puppy searching for the closest bit of comfort.

Levi’s hand stilled for a heartbeat.

“…Remi?” he whispered.

Remi swallowed, gaze slipping unfocused before he blinked slowly back to him. His voice, when it came, was small and quiet in a way Levi almost never heard.
A cracked whisper shaped more by exhaustion than breath.

“I feel like shit…”

It wasn’t dramatic.
Wasn’t defensive or gruff or couched in curses.
Just honest. Soft. Bare.

Levi's chest warmed, even through the fever ache.
He shifted closer, pressing his forehead to Remi’s, letting their shared heat meet in the space between them.

“…Me too,” he murmured, voice slow and thick. “But we’ll be okay.”

Remi’s eyes flickered, the faintest spark of relief softening them. His arm tightened around Levi’s waist—just a gentle pull, nothing demanding. He dipped forward a little, breath warming Levi’s cheek.

Then Remi pressed a kiss to Levi’s forehead.

Slow. Barely-there.
A feather-light touch of lips that lasted only a second…
but felt like something instinctual and tender, nudged out by fever before he could think enough to stop it.

Levi inhaled softly in surprise, a tiny smile blooming across his face despite how sick he felt. His forehead tingled where Remi’s lips had been.

“That tickles…” he whispered, the words brushing against Remi’s throat as he tucked himself back into the circle of Remi’s arms.

Remi let out a soft, exhausted hum.
Not a laugh — just a warm sound of acknowledgment, of agreement, of comfort.

Levi rested his cheek against Remi’s chest, listening to the slow, heavy thud of his heartbeat. Remi’s chin lowered until it rested lightly against the top of Levi’s head, their breaths synchronizing again in messy, stuffy unison.

And for a quiet moment, in the dim haze of fever and blankets and shared warmth,
being sick didn’t feel quite so terrible.

Because neither of them was alone in it.

Levi lasted all of five minutes before the dryness in his throat became impossible to ignore. His head throbbed with each heartbeat, and the fever fog in his skull made everything feel slow and far away.

He shifted carefully, trying not to jostle Remi as he pushed himself upright.

The attempt failed instantly.

The moment Levi lifted even an inch off the pillow, Remi whined — a soft, broken sound, more breath than voice — and his arm tightened around Levi’s waist.

“Don’t go…” Remi mumbled, eyes still closed, face buried in Levi’s chest. “…you’re warm…”

The vulnerability in his tone hit Levi straight in the ribs.
It was rare enough when Remi asked for things outright, rarer still when he sounded small about it.

Levi stroked Remi’s shoulder gently. “I’ll be right back, baby. Just getting us some water.”

Remi blinked up at him, bleary and fever-bright, wearing the softest, sleepiest pout Levi had ever seen on another human being. His lower lip stuck out slightly, his piercings glinting in the dim light, his brow drawn, glowing eyes foggy with confusion and misery.

“…Promise?” he whispered.

Levi leaned down and kissed Remi’s hair. “Promise.”

Remi exhaled, defeated, and let his arms fall away. He flopped back into the blankets with a congested grunt, sniffling thickly as Levi slid out of bed.

The cold air outside the blankets hit Levi immediately. He shivered hard, wrapping his arms around himself as dizziness washed through him. His head felt too light, his sinuses too heavy. Even walking felt like navigating through fog.

Remi watched him through half-lidded eyes, barely visible beneath the blankets he’d pulled to his chin.

“Don’t fall…” he mumbled, voice hoarse and worried in spite of sleep.

Levi gave him a tiny, tired smile. “I won’t.”

He almost did.

Halfway to the kitchen counter, his knees wobbled and he caught himself on the table, breath coming out in a stuffy huff. His nose buzzed sharply—wet, urgent—and he barely had time to cup his hands around his face.

“Hh—Eh’schh’iue!! Hh’…H'ptschu!”

The sneezes bent him forward, and the aftermath left him blinking away tears. His breathing thickened, nostrils flaring in dull irritation.

From the bed, Remi called weakly, “Bless you, kitten…”
Then, after a pause:
“…y’sure you don’t need help?”

Levi sniffed wetly and shook his head. “I’m good,” he rasped, though his voice didn’t sound convinced.

He grabbed two glasses of water, a box of tissues, and the packet of cold pills. The effort left him winded, and he trudged back to the bed slowly, feet dragging on the wooden floor.

Remi’s eyes followed him the entire way — fever-glazed but attentive, like he was tracking the movements of something precious he couldn’t risk losing.

The moment Levi sat down, Remi reached for him, arms opening just slightly.

Levi barely settled against the pillows before Remi pulled him into a loose, shaky hug. His forehead pressed to Levi’s temple; his breath shuddered warm across Levi’s cheek.

“You’re back…” Remi murmured, relief softening his entire face.

“Told you I’d be.” Levi nudged him gently. “Help me sit up?”

Remi tried — but at the effort of leaning forward, his breath caught sharply. His nose twitched once… twice… then he turned abruptly into the blankets.

“Hh—hihh—! Hh’gdtSSHHh!—hh’DTSH’ue!”

He slumped afterward, dazed, sniffling hard. “Ugh… sorry…”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Levi murmured, guiding a tissue gently into Remi’s hand.

Remi hesitated—then blew his nose quietly, embarrassed, a soft congested sound that cracked at the end. Levi rubbed his arm through the blankets.

“Feel a bit better?” he asked.

Remi nodded weakly. “A little…”

When Levi eased back into bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight, Remi shifted immediately. He turned toward him with a quiet, needy sound and pulled Levi in without hesitation, one arm slipping securely around Levi’s shoulders, the other settling at his waist. Levi was drawn in until his back rested against Remi’s chest, Remi’s warmth closing around him like a shelter.

Remi pressed his face into Levi’s hair, breathing him in slowly, relief evident in the way his hold tightened just a little too much. His chin rested against Levi’s shoulder, his breath warm and uneven against Levi’s neck.

Levi relaxed into the embrace, nuzzling back instinctively, his head tipping slightly until it fit beneath Remi’s jaw. Remi made a soft, almost inaudible sound at the contact, vulnerability leaking through in the way he held on.

Levi reached back to brush Remi’s hair away from his face, fingertips grazing his temple in a slow, careful motion.

“C’mere,” Levi whispered. “Let’s take these meds, then we can lie back down.”

Remi hummed quietly in agreement, the sound vibrating against Levi’s shoulder. He tried to sit up while keeping Levi tucked close, but the effort showed more than he wanted it to. His grip faltered for a moment, his breath hitching.

Levi turned just enough to help, guiding him upright while staying close. When Levi passed him the cup, Remi’s hands shook around it, water sloshing near the rim.

Levi covered Remi’s hands with his own at once. “Hey,” he murmured. “Let me.”

Remi didn’t argue.
Not tonight.

He relaxed his grip and let Levi guide the cup to his lips, tilting it slowly so Remi could sip without spilling. Each swallow was followed by a small, congested breath, his nose clearly struggling to keep up—flaring, then hitching as he paused to breathe through his mouth.

Levi waited patiently between sips, never rushing him.

When Remi finally pulled back, he exhaled wearily, shoulders sagging as the effort caught up to him.

“…thank you…” he mumbled, voice thick and soft, consonants blurred by exhaustion and congestion.

Levi reached for the tissue box and pressed one gently to Remi’s nose before Remi could look away. “You’re a mess…” he said softly, without even a hint of teasing cruelty.

Remi’s cheeks pinked a little — a rare sight, even under fever. The blush barely showed through his flushed skin, but Levi caught it anyway. Remi didn’t pull back. If anything, he leaned into the touch, letting Levi wipe his nose with slow, careful strokes.

“Sorry…” Remi muttered.

“Don’t be,” Levi whispered. “Just breathe.”

Remi tried — but the moment he inhaled, his breath snagged sharply.

“Hh… hh—”
His nostrils flared helplessly.
“Oh… shit—”

The sneeze pulled him forward, chest tightening painfully.

“Hh—hihh—hH’RHH’TSHHH!—hh’rRRTSSHH’uuhh!!”

The wheeze afterward was shaky and desperate, a thin rasp clawing out of his throat as he fought to catch his breath. Levi braced a hand on Remi’s arm, steadying him through the aftermath.

“You okay?” Levi whispered.

Remi nodded weakly, though his eyes were watering, breath still hitching in small, involuntary tremors.

“Hh… hhh…”

“Remi—”

“Hh’RRDTSSHHhh!—gktSSHH’uuh!”

The force of the sneeze drew Remi forward against Levi’s back, his arms tightening reflexively as his breath left him all at once. He slumped there afterward, forehead dropping briefly to Levi’s shoulder with a wobbling, congested sniff. His eyes stayed half-closed, lashes damp.

“Gods… that sucked…” he rasped.

Levi reached back carefully, threading his fingers into Remi’s hair and rubbing slow, grounding circles against his scalp. “I know,” he murmured gently. “You’re okay.”

Remi swallowed, cheeks still flushed, and leaned into the touch as much as he could from behind, pressing his face closer to Levi’s shoulder. The warmth of Levi’s hand, steady and familiar, seemed to anchor him, easing the fever haze just enough for him to breathe again.

Levi opened his mouth to speak, but his breath caught suddenly — a sharp, involuntary gasp. His nose twitched once, then twice, and he barely had time to bring his sleeve up as he bent forward.

“Hh… Hhih’eeshiew!! H’etshhiEW!”

The sneeze was small and breathless, muffled into his sleeve as he leaned away instinctively. He sniffled afterward, a wet, embarrassed sound, shoulders hitching as he tried to recover.

Remi tightened his hold at once, one arm firm around Levi’s middle. “Bless you, kitten… c’mere…” he murmured, voice rough but gentle.

Levi didn’t resist. He shifted, turning carefully in Remi’s grasp until he could curl back against him, settling with his cheek to Remi’s chest. Almost immediately, he nuzzled closer, nose brushing Remi’s shirt as another quiet sniffle escaped him. A small patch of damp warmth pooled beneath his nose, darkening the fabric as he breathed there, unselfconscious now that he was tucked safely away.

Remi adjusted around him, chin resting against Levi’s hair, pulling the blanket up over them both with a slow, deliberate motion. Levi sighed and tucked in closer, forehead pressing lightly to Remi’s sternum, letting himself be held while the night closed softly around them.

Remi lowered his head and pressed the softest kiss into Levi’s hair, lips lingering for a moment as he breathed him in. Levi’s hand slipped beneath Remi’s shirt, fingers splayed against the fever-warm skin of his ribs.

Neither spoke.

The world stayed hushed.
Their breaths stayed ragged, uneven, but shared.

And even with sneezes still building in Remi’s chest, even with Levi shivering against him…

There was a softness between them stronger than all of it.
A quiet, sleepy togetherness that didn’t need anything but the warmth of the moment.

The room had settled into the kind of quiet that only existed in the deep hours of the night, when even sickness softened into something slow and hazy. Their breathing filled the small space under the blankets—stuffed, uneven, but warm in its togetherness.

Levi shifted just slightly against Remi’s chest. His fingers traced faint shapes over Remi’s ribs, comforting more than searching.

For a long stretch of stillness, they didn’t speak.

Then Levi exhaled a trembling breath and whispered, barely audible:

“I’m glad it’s you…”
His voice cracked softly.
“Even sick.”

Remi’s heart stuttered—literally, physically—beneath Levi’s cheek. The warmth of his hold changed subtly, tightening for a moment before melting into something even gentler. The kind of softness he only ever revealed to Levi. The kind he didn’t know how to control.

He ducked his face into Levi’s hair, hiding the way the words hit him—too much, too tender, too real. His fever-warm nose nuzzled through the strands, and Levi felt the shaky inhale against his scalp.

Quietly, barely more than breath:

“Me too, kitten…”
A pause.
“…wouldn’t wanna be sick with anyone else.”

Levi’s fingers froze, then curled into Remi’s shirt. His breath shivered in his throat—half emotion, half congestion. He gave a small, involuntary whimper before the tickle in his sinuses surged up.

“Oh—hold on—”

“Hh… hih—”
His body tensed against Remi’s chest.

Then two soft, stuffy sneezes:

“—hah’ESHHh‘uh!! HET’Shhh’eu!”

It muffled into Remi’s shirt, leaving Levi sniffling quietly, embarrassed.

Remi didn’t tease him.
Didn’t laugh.
Didn’t pull away.

Instead, he tilted his head and pressed a slow, tender kiss to Levi’s temple—feather-light, steady, a promise in the shape of a touch.

“Easy…” Remi murmured, voice wrecked but warm. “Got you, kitten.”

Levi melted under the words, his sniffles softening into slow, steady breaths. He shifted again, burying himself deeper into Remi’s arms until their bodies fit together as though guided by instinct alone.

Remi’s hand slid up Levi’s back, palm warm, fingers gentle despite their fever shake. His breathing evened out behind Levi, still thick, still rough—but grounded now in the closeness between them.

The night wrapped around them like another blanket, heavy and comforting.

And for the first time since the flu had dragged them both down, Levi felt safe.
Remi felt steady.
And everything—aches, fevers, tickles, misery—seemed somehow softer in the space between their hearts.

The night settled deeper around them, heavy with warmth and the slow lull of shared breathing. Levi felt Remi’s skin grow hotter under his fingertips — fever blooming again across his cheeks, radiating through his neck and collarbones like rising embers.

Remi shifted restlessly, brows pinching. A soft, low sound escaped him — not quite a whine, but something close, a tired plea for comfort he didn’t know he was making.

Levi shifted slightly where he lay against Remi’s chest and lifted one hand, cupping Remi’s cheek with gentle care. His thumb traced slow, soothing strokes along Remi’s flushed skin as he reached up to smooth sweat-damp hair back from Remi’s forehead.

“Shh… I’ve got you, Acushla,” he whispered, voice soft and close.

Remi leaned down into the touch immediately, turning his face toward Levi’s palm like he was drawn there by instinct alone. A quiet, contented hum rumbled in his chest beneath Levi, vibrating faintly against him as Remi’s eyes drifted shut. Each careful stroke grounded him, easing the fever haze and dulling the ache settled deep in his bones.

Levi kept his hand there, cooling Remi’s face with slow, deliberate motions. Gradually, Remi’s breathing steadied and deepened—still thick with congestion, still carrying a faint rasp on every inhale, but calmer now. His arms loosened around Levi’s back, hands relaxing where they rested, fingers slowly uncurling as exhaustion finally pulled him toward sleep.

Little by little, Remi slipped in and out of sleep — blinking drowsily, humming when Levi touched his hair, then fading again.

Levi felt his own body surrender to fatigue. His eyelids fluttered, then drooped, his fingers tangling lazily in Remi’s hair — soft, repetitive motions that soothed them both. Their legs intertwined beneath the blankets, warm breath mingling in quiet puffs.

The rhythm of the room narrowed down to the two of them.
Soft.
Slow.
Stuffy.
Tired.

Remi stirred once more, eyes half-opening as his breath caught shallowly in his chest. Levi felt the shift beneath him and tilted his head slightly, cheek still pressed to Remi’s shoulder, listening for the telltale hitch of another sneeze.

It never came.

Instead, Remi lowered his head just enough to brush his lips to Levi’s forehead. The kiss was soft and unhurried, more instinct than intention, lingering for the barest second before he rested his chin there again.

His voice followed, quiet and worn thin by fever, shaped around careful mouth-breathing.

“I love you, kitten…”

Levi’s chest warmed, emotion blooming slow and steady beneath his ribs. He didn’t lift his head, didn’t break the closeness. He only curled in a little more, one hand slipping up to rest against Remi’s collarbone as he whispered back,

“I love you too, Acushla. Always.”

Remi exhaled shakily, relief easing through him as his arms tightened just enough to keep Levi close. His breathing stayed slow and open-mouthed, each warm breath ghosting over Levi’s forehead, damp and gentle with congestion.

Levi closed his eyes and let the sound of it lull him—Remi’s steady breathing, the rise and fall of his chest beneath him, the quiet safety of being held.

They fell asleep like that, Levi tucked against Remi’s chest and shoulder, Remi wrapped securely around him, lips resting near Levi’s hair, the blankets drawn close around them.

The night softened.
The world stayed distant.