It was the middle of the night - a time Caitlyn Kiramman had grown accustomed to seeing through little choice of her own. She was the type of person who preferred to keep herself on a routine, but she hadn’t lived a life that really allowed for that, and so her sleep schedule typically suffered. Some nights she awoke for what seemed like no reason, when it was really underlying stress she hadn’t yet unearthed forcing her brain awake. Other times, certain nighttime sounds, however distant, kept her mind restless and alert. But tonight it wasn’t anxiety keeping her up, nor was it any noise. The only sounds Caitlyn could hear was her sleeping partner breathing next to her, the flick of her quill on parchment, and every now and then, her own soft, quick sniffs.

That partner, Vi, was sprawled haphazardly on the mattress beside her, sheets kicked off around her, her shirt riding up past her navel to expose the muscles in her stomach. Her quiet snores reassured Caitlyn that she was having pleasant dreams. Her pillow was nowhere in sight, having landed somewhere in the dark. Vi wasn’t a complete mess, but she wasn’t organized, either. Whether she was awake or asleep, her things ended up where they ended up. Sometimes they made it to the side table, sometimes not. Sometimes her shirt came off in the night without her even realizing it (which of course neither of them minded).

Caitlyn herself was generally the opposite. Everything had its own specific place on the table or in the drawer on her side of the bed: a clock with a display that she could read in the dark, because she preferred to know the time exactly (right now, it was 1:14am). An eye patch, which she only took off at bed and put a separate fresh one on first thing in the morning. A glass of water for when she woke up in the night and needed to drink something to ground her. And a clean handkerchief, for when she needed to…

“...hiih…”

…needed… to…

“...ihh- ih-hiiH-! …h-HIIH-! Ih’hh… hh… hah- … …hahh-h… hhn…….”

…or… not.

Caitlyn let out a soft growl, crumpling the cloth in her hand, knuckling the side of her nostril with the other. Honestly, what was going on with her? Was it dust, something in the air? An oncoming illness? But… she felt fine otherwise. This wasn’t like her. Everything about her was normally more predictable - not perfect, but more controlled, more… organized. And the fact that this reaction was so out of her control was-

“-nhh-! Ahh’hh… hih-! Hh-hih… hh… ih’HIH-! …h’h… ha’aaahhhh…” 

-exasperating.

“...Mmn… you’re awake.”

Caitlyn heard her girlfriend’s voice beside her, drowsy but coherent. She looked over and smiled softly, reaching over to ruffle Vi’s short pink hair. Vi yawned and blinked back sleepily, leaning into her touch.

“Sorry, love. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” 

Vi shook her head wearily. “N… No, you didn’t, I was already…” Then her brow furrowed when she saw the light was dimly lit, and there was parchment on her partner’s lap. “Hey, it’s late… and you’re working on something. Didn’t we talk about this?”

“I know, I know,” Caitlyn sighed, giving her a soft smile. She moved the papers onto the side table. “But I couldn’t sleep anyways, so I thought I should at least make myself useful.”

“...I heard you panting, so, to be honest, I kind of thought you were, y’know… …doing something else.”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow and wrinkled her nose, but she couldn’t help but laugh. “Do you have to be so vulgar?”

“I’m just saying…” Vi mirrored her expression mockingly.

“Ha. Of course you are. But no, it’s just... It’s…” Her voice tapered off unexpectedly, and she went quiet. Vi rolled closer to her partner.

“Something bothering you?” she asked, concern in her voice. Now Vi was worried that the breathing she thought she'd heard before had actually been crying. Both of them still occasionally woke up with nightmares. The trauma they’d experienced would never leave them completely. But having each other for comfort helped immensely. 

A heavy sigh. Caitlyn pressed her fingers to her forehead, looking exasperated. “...Yes, actually, but it’s not what you’re thinking. It’s… Ihi-it’s- ih-! Hh…!” Her voice pitched up as she spoke, as if she was going to ask a question. But she didn’t. Instead, her eyebrows quivered, her mouth gasped open, and her vision unfocused. Her breath stuttered a few more times before it held, for a moment, a long moment… and then she exhaled hard, and her body slumped forward in frustration. “-haah. Ugh… It’s that.”

Vi simply blinked back. “...Ahuh. And what was that, exactly?”

Caitlyn rubbed her thumb and forefinger against the bridge of her nose, growling softly. “A sneeze that won’t come! I’ve got to so badly. I just can’t for some reason.”

That was what it looked like. Still… “What? You have to sneeze, but then you try to sneeze and you just… don’t?”

“P- hh… Precisely.”

Although when she sat perfectly still, and she didn’t breath, and she didn’t move, Caitlyn could pretend everything was fine. But unfortunately, breathing was unavoidable. A single sniff, and it immediately reignited the flame in her sinuses that flickered and flared and threatened to become an uncontrollable but ultimately relieving fit of sneezes - but unfortunately it only threatened it. As soon as it would reach its peak, and her remaining eye would squeeze shut, and she’d think she could hardly stand it any longer, it would just as suddenly elude her, leaving her in bleary-eyed aggravation. Over and over again.

Vi just watched as Caitlyn’s nose twitched with expectancy, only to be met with nothing once more. 

“...Wow. That sucks,” she said merely.

Cait scrunched up her nose. Even when the tickle receded, it never fully went away, still taunting her from the recesses of her sinuses. “You’re telling me.” 

“Hmm…” Vi tapped her chin in mock thought. “Well. That’s definitely not normal. So… sounds to me like you need a checkup from Dr. Vi. Who fortunately for you happens to be right here.” 

“Doctor? Really?” Caitlyn shifted her weight towards the supposed medical professional, leaning into a fist. “I’d like to see your credentials, Miss Doctor.”

“It’s not Miss Doctor, it’s Dr. Vi!” They were both grinning in spite of themselves. “Now tell me, young lady, how long have you been suffering with your ailment?”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes but decided she would play along with an honest account. “Well… I suppose I’ve had to sneeze since this afternoon… It was just a small itch then, but nothing came of it. I thought it’d go away. I didn’t expect it to stick around and get stuck like this… Now I can’t even sleep. It’s torturous.”

“Mhm... And has this ever happened to you as a result of stopping a sneeze?”

The patient pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment, then released it when the feeling subsided. “W-Well, somewhat, but not like this. This is just terrible.”

“So then…” Vi turned over on her stomach, resting her hands under her chin playfully. The doctor act was already forgotten; she was back to being her regular, devious self again. “You have an itch you need help scratching, is that right~?”

Caitlyn smirked at her, knowing her girlfriend was teasing at something else, but she chose to ignore it for the time being. “Not unless you can make me sneeze, Violet.”

Vi didn’t mind being called by her full name when it was Caitlyn. Only special people were allowed the honor, and there was no one else more special. “I can make you sneeze. Easy. You’re holding the solution as we speak.” She plucked the feather quill out of Caitlyn’s hand, swishing it around playfully.

The other girl raised an eyebrow, but her expression was softened by her current desperation. She sniffed, and the tickle nipped her back. “...A feather? Really?”

“Yeah, what else?”

“I don’t know, it’s just so… stereotypical. It seems like something you’d see in a cartoon; it doesn’t really work, does it?”

Vi continued to twirl the quill around in her hands. “It does if you know what you’re doing.” 

The marksman couldn’t help but sniff again in response. She pushed a slender finger along her upper lip to abate the urge, though it hardly helped. “Ahh… A-And you know, do you?”

“Well, Miss High-Society Topsider, I know you’ve probably never been bored a day in your life. It’s amazing the things you can learn when you’ve got nothing else to do.” She pointed the quill towards her girlfriend. “Like how to make yourself sneeze.” 

Caitlyn folded her arms, lightly amused. “So, you’ve done it? Forced yourself to sneeze, with that?”

“Sure have. Why, you want me to prove it?” she said slyly.

“Hh-hih-” Caitlyn stuttered as the sneeze took hold of her again. She put up a finger, leaning to the side, willing hopelessly for the reaction to fulfill itself. But it wouldn’t. She knew it wouldn’t. What a terrible tease it was… Her thin nose flexed, and tears lined the bottom of her eye as disappointment greeted her once more - she released her held breath. “-hah. N… Nothing, again… See, this is how it’s been all night, can’t you see how much it’s been bothering me?”

Vi flushed at the desperation in the other woman’s features, at her bangs that were falling out of place, her lips that parted slightly whenever she gasped. God, how is she so… “You know… you’re pretty hot when you can’t sneeze.” 

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, but she felt her cheeks flush. “Well, I’m glad one of us is enjoying herself.”

“What’s that?” Vi pushed herself onto all fours, leaning in so their lips were close, their noses brushing. “You wanna enjoy yourself, too?”

Even that light touch against her nose reignited the nerves in her sinuses. Cait leaned away involuntarily, gripping the handkerchief in her hand. “W-Well… It’s a little hard for me to en-hehh- …at the moment…. Hh- hhahh… i’hh… h'hnnn…” 

Vi shifted back, just watching as she once again hitched uselessly. “Wow - did I make you do that? Man, you’re sensitive… Well, I think you’ve suffered enough. Come’ere, let’s give this a try. I’ll have you sneezing in moments.” 

But despite how much of a bother it was, Caitlyn was still hesitant. “Aheh… ahh… are you sure… it’s going to work for me…?”

Vi nodded reassuringly. “Of course. Like I said, I’ve done this before. Besides, I always take good care of you, don’t I?”

Caitlyn offered a small smile. “Well, I suppose…” 

“And we can stop any time. I’m not gonna force you.” 

“...All right, I guess... we can try it...” Caitlyn shuffled her body forward a bit on the bed, conceding. After all… it was only a feather. And it was only Vi. Even if she felt ridiculous, surely she’d made herself look even more ridiculous being unable to sneeze, hadn’t she? And Vi had never judged her. So she probably wouldn’t choose now to start.

“That’s my girl.” Vi gave her hand a squeeze, then shifted back into a cross-legged position on the bed. She leaned in towards her girlfriend’s face, inspecting her thin, almond-shaped nostrils as if there was something to see. Caitlyn sat up tall, literally looking down the bridge of her nose. She couldn’t help but feel slightly self-conscious - she wasn’t used to someone inspecting her like that… even if it was Vi. Cait watched her girlfriend’s thumb go to her cheek, pulling the skin to the side to cause her slender nostril to widen, and before she could hardly register it, the feather went in and up- and as soon as it did, her body rejected it.

“Kehff’Hh-!” Caitlyn sputtered involuntarily, pulling her head back. She hastily covered her face, embarrassed at the sound she’d made, even if she couldn’t help it.

Violet pulled back, too. “I’m sorry - too fast? I can go slower.”

“-Wh… what are you doing?!” 

“Huh? Uh… I’m trying to make you sneeze?” 

Caitlyn sniffed harshly, trying to rid herself of the residual tickles the feather left behind. “I didn’t realize you were going to put it in my nose, I thought you were just going to… dust it around the outside, or something...”

“Okay, see, that doesn’t actually work. What you gotta do is get the tip to reach the back of your nose.” 

Caitlyn made a face. “That far? I don’t know if I can stand it, Vi…”

“Well, that’s sorta the point - that’s what makes you sneeze.” Vi tilted the feather up, once again staring at her partner’s nose as if it would give her some sort of clue to unlocking the reaction they both desired. It was long and slim, both angular and smooth at once, and mostly symmetrical, unlike Vi’s, which had been broken more than once in the past. “Hmm… well, your left side tends to be more sensitive. So maybe we try the right nostril. Maybe the left one was too much for you.” 

“My left… is it?” She’d never noticed before - she didn’t even think to notice. But she guessed she shouldn’t put it past Vi to pay attention to something like that.

“Yeah, it is - here, I’ll show you.” Suddenly Vi dropped the quill and reached towards her girlfriend’s breasts - Caitlyn intercepted by grabbing her hands in her own.

“Focus, Vi,” she reminded, raising an eyebrow.

The other woman feigned innocence, still eying her chest. “On what now?”

“On- eh’hih-!” The sneeze chose that moment to take over, and Cait couldn’t help but succumb to its control. It was almost as if it was telling them to “take this more seriously.” She let her breath staccato silently, almost noiselessly, as she concentrated so hard, so closely… Vi watched unblinking as her girlfriend’s chin tilted up, up, her nostrils flexing with need, her eyebrows knitting tightly, and thought, I know that face. She’s got it now. 

“-ha-iih-! Hiih-! Ih-hiih-! -hh’hiihhh-” 

…Only… she didn’t. As close as it was, it was still just as far. It didn’t matter how badly she wanted it. It just wouldn’t happen.

“...hihh… ihh… hhhhh…”

Caitlyn's shoulders drooped with another heavy exhale, and she rubbed at her poor, defeated nose. It stung back at her in response, as if it was scolding her for being unable to sneeze. Which was truly unfair, she thought, because she was willing it with all her might, and what more could she do? It was out of her control. And she hated it when she couldn’t control something.

“...Damn. I really thought you were going to sneeze that time,” Violet murmured at her display.

Caitlyn groaned despite herself, frustrated, weary. “I thought so the first ten times it happened, but at this point I’ve given up hope.” 

“To be honest… I’m glad you didn’t sneeze, though. I want to be the one to make you.” 

Caitlyn slapped her arm playfully; her girlfriend grinned, cheeky. “Vi! I’m the one suffering here!”

“Well, you won’t have to be for much longer if you let me try the feather again.”

Caitlyn stared at her for a minute, then she nodded. Fine, she’d let her partner have a go again. Maybe it was out of her control, but it might not be out of Vi’s. “Alright... I’m willing to try anything at this point, even if I really can’t stand it. I don’t care how I sneeze, as long as I finally do.” 

Vi lifted the feather upright once more, determined. “You will. I’ll make sure of it.” 

“One second,” Caitlyn stopped her, holding up a hand in front of her face before the quill could get near her nose again. “Just… show me what you’re planning on doing first.”

“Show you? I thought that’s what I was doing.”  

“No, no. On yourself.”

Vi tilted her head. “Oh… you want me to make myself sneeze?” 

Caitlyn nodded, pushing Vi’s hands towards her own face. “I- hh… w… wanna… ahhh.. hem.” She cleared her throat, shaking her head side to side. “I… want to see what you’re planning to do, on you.”

Vi licked her lips, her eyes narrowing at the quill in her hands. “Hmm, well… it’s been a little while, but sure, I bet I could still do it.”

“Well, I hope you can. If you want to use it on someone else, you should at least be able to use it on yourself, shouldn’t you?”

“Hm! Well, you’re not wrong. Fine, then - I’m curious if I can still make it happen, anyways. Just watch me, all right?” 

Vi quickly got to work, twisting the feather in her hand so that the end was curved downwards, following the contour of the inside of her nose. Her taller girlfriend bent down slightly in her seated position to get a better view, and one eyebrow arched as she watched Vi insert the end of the feather into her nostril without even flinching. It had felt so ticklish inside her own nose, but Vi didn’t really look bothered - not yet, at least. A bit more, and then Vi’s nostril slowly pulled upwards, her eyebrows creasing. Her lips parted unevenly, exposing her upper canine. Her eyes began to glaze over as they watched her hand holding the instrument, which she moved around in deliberate, twitching motions, trying to find that certain spot she knew was there, she just had to refamiliarize herself with it…

As Caitlyn witnessed her partner attempt to induce, she felt her own expression mirroring Vi’s against her will, her nostrils tugging upwards and flexing as her girlfriend’s did, her eye tearing up slightly at the corners. Her breath hissed as she began to hitch again - it itched, it really itched, so much - and suddenly her eye was watering too much to even see Vi anymore. The sneeze wanted to form, so badly, her body stuck in a loop of preparing for an event that refused to take place. And she wanted it to, too. Would watching Vi be enough…? It felt like… maybe it could be… 

Caitlyn could just make out Vi’s features through the blur of her vision. Violet’s head was nodding back, one hand moving the feather in little circles inside one nostril, the other posed to catch the sneeze when it came. Caitlyn’s hand inched gradually towards her own nose wishfully. She blinked and dislodged a few tears, and then she could see her partner’s expression for a moment - Vi was on the cusp of it now, having located the spot in her nose and flitting the ticklish part of the feather right on top of it - Vi’s eyes blinked closed, the desperation overwhelming her, which then overwhelmed both of them, their breath catching simultaneously-

“-haa’hHh-!” Caitlyn inhaled, more vocal than before, the desperation building - sneezing was so tantalizingly close now… Her eyes winced shut, and-

“Ahh’hh… heh… Heh-Hh-H-HA’AKSCHh-! -sh’sCHhIUu–!” Vi doubled over from the force of it into her hands, the feather fluttering back to the bed as she did. Cait heard the harsh sound of it but missed seeing it, since her own eye had been teased shut. However… somehow, despite how horribly it itched, and how ready she was to let it out… she still hadn’t managed to sneeze. Instead of a satisfying release, she was only met with a terrible sting in her nasal passages that left her breathless and wanting. She wrinkled her nose, massaging at the sides between both hands, unable to handle the awful prickling feeling that remained. How she wished Vi’s sneezes could’ve been her own… they sounded awfully relieving… and she’d been so damn close…

Vi leaned back out of her hands with a gasp, wiping the leftover irritation from her eyes and nose - she had been so focused on making herself induce she hadn’t even noticed Cait’s struggle. “-ha! Th… There, you see? Toldja I could do it.” 

Cait swiped at her eye, too, the sneeze having backed off disappointingly once more. “My… goodness, that was powerful.”

Vi thumbed her nose, giving a quick sniff. “You could say ‘bless you.’”

“...I’m not sure you’re meant to bless a sneeze like that,” she responded teasingly.

“What?! What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Cait hoped she hadn’t sounded too short with her, but… she was a bit jealous. After all, Vi got to have two satisfying, strong sneezes, and she got nothing. “Well… if someone forces a sneeze when there wasn’t one in the first place, do you still bless them?”

Vi folded her arms. “Damn. I didn’t realize there were so many rules about manners…” she pouted. “And I did it just for you, too…”

Caitlyn couldn’t help but laugh, apologetic. She knew Vi didn’t care much about manners, but she did care about getting attention from the person who loved her most. Who was Cait to deny it? “Alright, alright - bless you, love.” 

Vi grinned approvingly, scrubbing the base of her nose with the back of her fingers. “Heh! That’s more like it. Well. I think now I’ve got a better idea of what to do for you.” She picked the feather up off of the bedsheets, pointing it towards Cait. “I’m gonna try your right side this time - maybe it’ll go better since it’s less sensitive. I’ll start out slow, and then go a little faster, once we find the right spot. Move it around in different ways, see what we can make happen - how does that sound?”

Well… “...I think that sounds… um…” Sexual. It definitely sounds sexual. 

“Hmm? It sounds what?” Vi simpered, the corner of her mouth twitching into a grin. “Heh, don’t worry. I only talk this way with you, you know.” 

“Sure you do… sometimes,” Caitlyn teased back. “Sometimes in the moment you’re a little… speechless.” 

Vi’s cheeks flushed red. “I, well… It’s not my fault, it’s you- I can’t help it with you…” 

Caitlyn smiled warmly, leaning in to kiss her on the forehead, but her face faltered as she did. “w- h’heh…” The sneeze was already back with a vengeance, punishing her again for some unknown reason that she clearly didn’t deserve. She pressed her index finger hard against the bridge bone - it was truly cruel that her body was even allowed to react like this in the first place, to itch in a spot she couldn’t reach. But there was no use whining about it - it wasn’t going to solve the problem. And she was going to lose her mind if the problem wasn’t solved soon. She rubbed her tongue against the roof of her mouth and scrunched her nose again, swallowing hard, then picked up the feather from in between them. 

“L… Let’s try again. I don't like the feeling but... I shouldn't give up so easily.” 

Vi nodded. “Okay. We’ll make you sneeze. I promise.” 

“Well, let’s hope so… This is getting ridiculous.” 

“I’m gonna try your right side now, okay?”

“All right. Let’s get this overwith…” 

Caitlyn watched as once again, the feather was lifted towards her nose with the hopes of coaxing out the most stubborn sneeze. As soon as she felt the feather go in, though, she could quickly tell that it was… less ticklish. What a difference it was between the left side - although it certainly felt like something, that something wasn’t a sneeze. She concentrated as best she could, though, trying to at least give it a chance. Vi could tell that Caitlyn wasn’t really feeling anything this time - her brow was hardly furrowed, her features more relaxed. Maybe if she pressed in just a bit farther? She lifted her partner’s chin up with her other hand, using gravity to help glide the feather down, moving it sporadically about. Even though it didn’t feel like a sneeze, it was still irritating - though mostly in the back of her throat. Cait suddenly sniffed hard, and Vi hoped perhaps she was making progress, when suddenly Cait pushed her partner’s hand away, the feather sliding out of her nose and quickly forcing her to-

“-h’ffeh-! -sh… shiu…” 

Well. That… sounded like a sneeze… kind of. Even though it wasn’t. Caitlyn shook her head hard, looking even more bothered and even less relieved than before. Vi stared at her flustered expression… and she could help but laugh - she covered her mouth. “Okay, I know that wasn’t a sneeze.” 

Caitlyn shook her head, massaging the sides of her nose between her fingers again. “N… No, not quite. That was just… an attempt to manifest it.” 

“I thought so. Your sneezes never sound like that.” 

The taller woman smoothed her long hair out of her face, sighing. “I dunno, Vi… I couldn’t feel much that time. I guess you were right about my left being more sensitive… and perhaps my right isn’t sensitive enough.” 

“Man, that’s a shame. Would’ve been nice if it just worked.”

Cait groaned again. “I never knew it could be so complicated to sneeze… But what am I supposed to do? It's driving me mad, I can't possibly get to bed like this… and I’m sorry you’ve had to stay awake with me through all of it.” 

Vi rubbed the back of her neck. “Don’t worry about it, okay? You know I can’t sleep when you’re up, anyways. I’m not gonna let you suffer alone.”

“Even with something as trivial as a sneeze?” Cait snickered - though as soon as she said it, it stung her sharply again, forcing her to pinch her nose. 

“Hey, this isn't just any sneeze. This is the worst damn sneeze of all time,” Vi chuckled, shaking her head. “Listen, I know it didn’t feel great, but your left nostril is the one that keeps pulling up, even when I was trying the feather on your right side. Maybe the right side didn’t work because it’s not bothering you there.”

“Oh, um…” Cait twitched her nose a bit, feeling for it. “Hmm, perhaps… It seems like it itches everywhere… B-But…” Now that she thought about it, the tickle did feel more concentrated on her left side. She reached up to touch that side of her nose, rubbing slow circles into it with her knuckle. The movement began to coax it forward a little, and her breathing quickly grew disjointed once again- “Th-There- it… ahh… is… ih-hit’s there, where my finger is-”

“Where - here?” Vi reached up to her face, pressing her thumb over her partner’s knuckle. When Caitlyn moved her hand out of the way and felt Vi’s touch in place of her own, the sensation suddenly multiplied, radiating outwards from where Vi’s finger rested against her skin, and she was completely overcome with it. Her sinuses spasmed - she almost pushed Vi’s hand away from how powerful it was, but her brain was functioning just well enough to recognize that somehow, even though it itched to tears, her girlfriend’s touch was keeping the sneeze in place rather than allowing it to shrink back like it had been all night long. Almost as if, somehow, she was holding it there. Caitlyn didn’t dare move. At least not quickly. Her facial features twitched against her control, but otherwise, she kept her movements gradual, deliberate. She was not going to lose it again. 

“Please,” she managed, pushing the feather quill across the bed, towards her partner. She placed her other hand over the one Vi held to her face, trying to prevent her from moving it off of her nose. “J… Just m- ...make me sn…neeze…” 

Violet’s eyes widened at the sudden urgency in her tone. “W… Wow. Okay, I’ll try. Let’s see-”

Caitlyn felt Vi brush the tip of the feather against her upper lip, then slowly move it higher, slipping into the curve of her left nostril. She winced at the intrusion, feeling each fiber of the feather brushing against the walls of her nose uncomfortably as it went deeper still, traveling over skin previously untouched. She braced herself, swallowing hard, trying to keep from coughing against it. What an awkwardly ticklish feeling it was, not just in her nose but also in her throat, in the space between her eyes… It was definitely more reactive than the right side, that she was sure of… Vi wasn’t wrong about her left side being sensitive. Though now she was wondering, what kind of reaction did her past self have that led to Vi figuring that out in the first place…? The thought was chased from her head as a ticklish tremor shot up her nose like a lightning bolt - she inhaled abruptly, and she must’ve pulled a face, too, because a moment later Vi was asking her, “You gonna sneeze?”

Unable to respond, Caitlyn just gave her head a subtle shake - Vi hesitated.

“Is it too much? Want me to stop-”

“Mm-mm…” Caitlyn barely shook her head again, trying not to let the feeling escape her once more. “K…Keep g-going- ih… t’s… w-working…” 

“Really? Okay, got it-” Vi immediately started up again, quickly pulsing the feather inside her nose, moving it in and out and even deeper- Cait’s head tipped back further, eye narrowing towards the ceiling, her nostrils flexing with need. It was coming - surely now, it had to be coming… Her entire nose was filled with it, this tantalizing, tingling, buzzing urge, nuzzling deep within her sinuses, just waiting for the feather to brush it in the right way, the right spot - but that spot kept feeling like it was just out of reach. How was it possibly still eluding her, even though it was so strong she could hardly stand it - she didn’t think she’d be able to bear it if the sneeze didn’t come now, not when it felt so finally within her grasp… Again, she must’ve been making a face that really gave her away, because Vi said, “It’s right there, isn’t it?”

It was. It really was, right there, right on the cusp… But it wouldn’t come… why, why couldn’t she just sneeze already… It just didn’t make any sense…

But Vi was done watching her girlfriend suffer - she wasn’t about to let the sneeze get away again. She tried to act quickly. “Here, I’ve got an idea - you take the feather from me, keep moving it like I was. I’m gonna try something, okay?”

“...I d’know, y…you’re th-heh… one who- ehh’hehhh… wh-who’s the expert… at thi-his…” Caitlyn breathed, feeling a tear roll down her cheek. 

“Sure, sure, on myself. You're the one who knows how it feels right now, not me. You got this. Just go slow so you don’t make yourself choke again, alright?” 

Caitlyn let out a jagged sniff, nodding shakily. She wasn’t confident she could induce any better than her partner, but as she’d said, she was willing to try anything at this point. She clumsily switched positions with Vi, her right hand taking hold of the feather and her left hand still holding Vi’s against the side of her nose. The itch was still there, strong as ever, burning a hole through her sinuses and burrowing itself deeper - but Caitlyn pushed the feather after it. The presence of Vi’s right hand on her nose was preventing the sneeze from fading, but it still managed to escape her grasp, leaving her in a torturous limbo. She knew if she pushed the feather too deep, she’d end up coughing again and it’d let the sneeze escape. And there was entirely no way she could let that happen. She just hoped whatever her girlfriend had in mind was going to work…

Vi hoped so, too. With her left hand free, she reached up to touch her partner’s face. She wasn’t especially confident in what she was about to do, but… It was ticklish enough when my nose just brushed hers, so… Vi tentatively extended her index finger, then lightly pressed it into the space between Cait’s eyebrows. Her nose responded immediately - it shivered and her nostrils flared, and Caitlyn felt the nerves in her sinuses convulse tremendously. Then Vi moved her fingertip downwards, brushing small, rhythmic strokes down the bridge of her twitching nose, scratching at it ticklishly with her fingernail, causing the skin there to crinkle more and more and more as she did, until-

“-vhh… V-Vi-”

“Sorry, is that okay - is it working?” Vi asked, apprehensive.

Caitlyn managed to give her partner a single nod, stammering “D-Don’t stop-” -and that was all she was able to offer before her mind went numb.

Vi didn’t stop. She quickened the pace of her movements on Cait’s nose, stroking her finger down its spine and skimming her fingernail along its tender skin. Caitlyn’s face pulled into an involuntary sneer. Her eyebrows pinched, her jaw slackened. She continued to try and tease her nose with the feather, but her movements were getting harder and harder to control… she simply felt mentally and physically paralyzed by the need to sneeze. Thankfully, Vi wasn’t detoured. She made her strokes faster, short and quick, her fingertip brushing from the top of her nose until it reached the underside. And when she decided to change up her movements so that her fingernail traced the lightest, ticklish circles just above Caitlyn’s septum - that was what finally pushed her over the edge.

Her breath caught once, and then it caught again. And again. There was no doubt now. At last, she could tell she was absolutely going to sneeze - and sneeze and sneeze and sneeze.

“...ahiih… h-hiH… h’hAAaH…”

The feather fell out of Caitlyn’s grasp and onto the bed between them, and her sharp, erratic breaths suddenly halted in place of one large, desperate inhalation. 

“-iiihhhhHHhhHHHH-”

Her head lilted back further still, pulling itself out of Vi’s grasp, but at this point it didn’t matter - the urge had thoroughly overwhelmed her, and she couldn’t deny herself the need even if she’d wanted to. And she definitely did not want to deny it. Her eye rolled back into her head, squeezing shut as she finally, gratefully surrendered all control to whatever her body willed, and for the first time in her life, she allowed herself to be at peace with accepting total vulnerability.

Vi opened up her arms - just in time to catch her partner as she hurtled forwards into them.

“-ih’hiiiIIhhH’AH-AHSHIIIEUUUuuw–!!” 

And there it finally was - loud, forceful, unrestrained. Incredible. It felt overwhelmingly incredible. The first desperate sneeze landed against Vi’s shoulder - and she wasn’t near done. It was impossible for the strength of an itch like that to be contained in one sneeze. Helplessly she continued, not even trying to hold them back, because she simply couldn’t, while Vi wrapped her arms around her-

“-aheh-ih- Ihi- H’HiiTCHYUuu-! iHChiiHhh-! Ih… iH-Ih’hEHK-KYyiu-uu- iiHCHyUUu-!” 

She shuddered involuntarily with each outburst she wasn’t even attempting to stifle- and she doubted she’d be able to even if she tried, even if she’d wanted to. Each sneeze melted into the next, to the point where she wasn’t sure when she was feeling relief or the wave of the next fit overwhelming her-

“HEH-iHTCH’YUu-’tSCHUu-! -k… K’ShHIUu-! eHHh- EH’SCHhYUu-! h-hEH’FSCHu-! ehHEH- EhHCHYUUu-!!”

Vi had heard her sneeze before, but never like this; never so openly, so desperately, or so many times in a row like this. It was a sound only she would ever hear, as Caitlyn would never allow herself to be so uninhibited in public, around anyone else. Vi knew she was lucky to be the one to witness and even cause this lack of restraint from the person who normally held herself with such poise. Who wouldn’t ever expose herself like this to anyone else. It was fiercely endearing. Maybe something more than that. And entirely deserving of her praise.

“There it is,” Vi told her encouragingly, brushing her fingers through the back of her partner’s hair. “Bless you.” 

Caitlyn exhaled, expecting relief to greet her - but she still felt a needling twinge of dissatisfaction. Her voice was softly congested, breathless, hitching once more… “Hiih… hah… Eh’h… Eh’hehxcuse me…”

“‘Excuse me?’” Vi echoed, shaking her head. “Heh. After all that? Save the pleasantries. Except maybe a ‘thank you.’”

Caitlyn leaned out of Vi’s embrace and opened her mouth to speak, but instead she found herself seized by another sudden overwhelming, immobilizing itch. With little warning, her eyes snapped shut once more as she lost control, spontaneously sneezing for one final time-

“-ih’HeH- hHEP’KYIIEEWWw-!”

-abruptly in her girlfriend’s face. 

Vi blinked in surprise at the outburst… then her mouth slowly formed a smirk. Wow. Well, she… probably deserved that. “Bless… you. Again. Got any more, or was that the last of it?”

No, that was all of them… now she was finally finished. Caitlyn felt her body collapse back into Vi’s arms, relief filling her sinuses entirely in place of the sneeze, alleviated at last after hours of that torture - it was truly liberating. What an awful, dizzying, exhausting itch that’d been, maybe the worst she’d ever felt, had ever had to fight so hard for. She’d often have to hold back her sneezes or stifle them around anyone else, but she never held back around Vi, and she was grateful that she never had to, especially with something so torturous. Except… Caitlyn hadn’t meant to sneeze on her. She could hardly help how suddenly the last sneeze came. Humiliation stung her cheeks - her eyes widened and she abruptly sat up, covering her mouth - a little too late. “...I-I’m so sorry.” 

“Huh- for what?”

“For… sneezing at you, like that…” she managed, pushing one hand over her nose - again, too late. Vi waved her off.

“Don’t worry about it. That’s what I get for demanding thanks.” 

“Ah - right, that- Th… Thank you, Vi, really… I don’t think I could’ve managed to sneeze without you. You have no idea how much that was bothering me - well, I guess you do, you saw me just now... It was about to drive me insane.”

The former enforcer couldn’t help but feel turned on by the genuine gratitude etched in her girlfriend’s tone. She shrugged, somewhat shyly. “No problem, really…” 

Caitlyn remembered the handkerchief beside her and grabbed it, using it to dab gingerly at Vi’s face. “I really am sorry for sneezing on you, though… How embarrassing…” 

“Please, you think I care about that?” She pushed Cait’s hand away, who looked back at her sheepishly. “All I care about is that I got you to sneeze. Didn’t think I could do it, eh?”

“Well, I guess I wasn’t so sure…”

“I can’t believe you’d doubt me! I’ve always left you satisfied, haven’t I?” She winked.

“...Rather pleased with yourself, are you?” Caitlyn sniffed, but she couldn’t help but find it cute. Arousing, even.

“I am.” Vi lifted the other woman’s chin towards her face. Her remaining blue eye was still watery from her fit, the edges of her nostrils and cheeks tinged pink. “So. You’re satisfied, right?”

Entranced by her gaze, Cait froze for a moment, then nodded back. She was still reveling in her relief. “Well… I… of course.”

“Are you…? How come you don’t sound sure about it?” Vi pressed.

“I mean, of course I am, but…” There was… maybe something more she wanted. As long as her partner did, too. “...What about you?” she countered.

Vi cocked her head. “Huh, me?”

The marksman gave her a look. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you enjoyed that.” 

An eyebrow raised. Vi pushed her gently onto the bed so she was laying down, then climbed on top of her. She pressed her hands into Caitlyn’s, their fingers interlocking. “I’m always satisfied when I get what I want, when I know it’s what you want, too.” She leaned in closer, her voice sensual. “But there are things I enjoy even more. All you have to do is say the word.” 

Flush grew in Cait’s cheeks. There was another itch that needed to be scratched, deep inside her, inside both of them. She would no longer ignore it. “...I don’t suppose that’s the only thing you learned to do when you were bored.” 

To say it’s been a long day would be an understatement. It’s felt endless, obnoxiously long in that particular way that makes every small inconvenience feel personal. Jayce is running on fumes, his head aching, throat raw, and nose so stuffed he can barely draw a full breath. He’s been impatient to get home for the past hour, but his bus had been delayed three times, it had started to rain, and his plans to pick up more tissues had been entirely forgotten. 

By the time Jayce steps into the lobby of his apartment complex, he’s running on autopilot. His limbs are aching and heavy, his body having forgotten how to function without discomfort hours ago. He barely manages a nod towards the security desk; he’d usually stop to chat, especially with the woman working tonight, who always engages in friendly conversation. He must look as shitty as he feels because she just gives him a sympathetic look and allows him to pass by in silence. 

Jayce quickens his pace as he notices the closest elevator shutting, just barely managing to slip through the narrowing gap in time for the doors to shut with a loud PING! Once inside, he lets out a stuffy breath of relief, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes and rubbing them slowly. It’s not the most hygienic move, sure, but considering that he’s already sick, he allows himself the small comfort. That is, until he registers a presence beside him, immediately dropping his hands to his sides and glancing over. 

‘Just my luck.’ Jayce thinks as he recognizes the man standing beside him, their eyes meeting for the briefest second before both of them glance away. 

He should’ve just waited and taken the other elevator, another minute of standing there wouldn’t have hurt him. But it’s too late now, especially after slipping in at the last second and making direct eye contact with none other than his next-door neighbor. They’d only ever had a few brief conversations – polite, out of necessity, and highly-performative on Jayce’s end. Afterall, he’d been taught to put on a well-mannered mask and adapt, so he did exactly that; at least he tried to, but his anxiety makes him far less calm and collected as he’d like to think he appears. 

‘Thank God we live on the third floor and not the sixth’ Jayce thinks, trying his best not to sniffle audibly as he feels an unwelcome trickle of moisture slip over his upper lip, ‘And thank God I’m wearing a mask.’

PING! They pass the first floor. 

Jayce is certain that he looks worse for wear, even with the bottom half of his face covered with not one but two medical-grade facemasks. It might be overkill, but his mom had raised him with the understanding that “just because you’re sick doesn’t mean everyone else has to be”. Besides, he doesn’t find it all that inconvenient to wear a mask, aside from those moments when he can no longer deny the itch that constantly lingers in his sinuses whenever he’s congested. 

He’s no stranger to sneezing in masks, but he’s certainly not a fan of it. The sensation alone is enough to make his skin crawl with discomfort, not to mention the either disgusted or pitying looks he receives from anyone nearby. 

Jayce feels his nose continue to run, the moisture beginning to collect on his upper lip and risk slipping further down, but he knows if he sniffles, it'll sound disgusting. The last thing he wants is to gross out his neighbor, who’s politely ignoring him and focusing instead on a loose string dangling from his sleeve. 

Jayce chances a glance at Viktor, feeling his heart thrum a little at the sight of him. He looks tired too, but Jayce ignores the prominent eyebags of the shorter man, drawn instead to the light freckles cast across his face. They’re not nearly as noticeable as his moles, but still, Jayce finds himself rather endeared by them – light, small, decorative things. He only realizes he’s staring when Viktor turns towards him, meeting his gaze wordlessly. 

Jayce blushes crimson, his mind stuttering to a halt as he’s caught staring. He quickly diverts his gaze, looking anywhere aside from Viktor. First it's his scuffed sneakers, then the wristwatch his friend had recently purchased for him, then the smudges on the elevator door. 

Is the elevator moving slower than usual? Jayce swears it is, time dripping by like molasses as he tries to ignore the embarrassment swelling in his chest. ‘Great job Jayce’ he thinks sarcastically ‘what a stellar impression you’re making. Why don’t you just go ahead and–’ his internal spiral screeches to a halt as he feels the buzzing in his sinuses shift, prickling up to the tip of his nose and making the sensitive appendage twitch. ‘No… no no no no no–’

“hh–,” his breath hitches before he can do anything to stop it, the prickling swelling to a full on itch. Desperate for a solution, Jayce decides to do the thing he’d been dreading the entire elevator ride. He sniffles, feeling the moisture that had slipped over his lip shoot back into his nose and cram itself in his sinuses with a loud SNRKkk! 

For the second time in just two minutes, Jayce feels his face burn scarlet. He does his best to swallow his embarrassment, silently reassuring himself that a little sniffle was much better than him sneezing into his mask. Still, that thought does very little to dissuade the anxious voice in his mind. He stares fixedly at the elevator doors, trying to will them to open fast. Anywhere but here. Anytime but now.

Jayce glances at Viktor again, only for a split second, and to his surprise, this time he catches Viktor staring at him. ‘Oh God.’ Jayce’s mind immediately jumps to the worst conclusions: ‘This is it. Caitlyn’s never going to let me hear the end of it if I lose a chance with my crush before we even exchange more than five sentences.’

His fever’s certainly not helping with his mind’s anxious ruminations, causing him to spiral illogically without any end in sight. He barely registers the feeling as his nose begins running again, intent on making a mess inside his mask. 

PING! Only one floor left, Jayce can handle that. He glances at his watch again… odd… he must’ve misread the time before, but he swears, it’s been almost three minutes since he first entered the cramped elevator. It shouldn’t take more than two minutes for him to arrive at the third floor… he must’ve misread it. Afterall, he’s feverish and hopped up on dayquil and–

THHHHUMP! 

Without warning, the elevator jolts violently, lurching with a mechanical groan. The sudden motions throws both of them off balance, tossing Viktor straight into Jayce’s side. There’s no time to react, no chance for either of them to brace themselves, just a blur of motion. 

Jayce reaches out reflexively, arms wrapping around Viktor as the floor seems to drop beneath them. The two of them topple over, Viktor landing half on Jayce’s chest as Jayce hits the floor with a dull thud. The impact knocks the wind out of him, but he barely notices. His only thought (aside from ‘What the Fuck!’, that is) is that somehow he’d managed to catch Viktor before he could hit the floor too hard. Realistically, he would’ve tried to help anyone in that situation, but the fact that he can feel Viktor against him makes it a bit more satisfactory. 

Viktor’s breath is short with surprise, his body tense as it registers the impact. For a second, neither of them move, staying frozen in place as they listen to the elevator groan. Neither of them dare to move and risk plummeting down to the ground level. 

Jayce blinks up at the flickering light overhead, his mind scrambling to process what had just happened. He can feel Viktor’s hand pressed awkwardly against his ribs, the unmistakable pressure of the smaller man’s weight on top of him. 

Slowly, hesitantly, Viktor detangles himself from Jayce, doing his best not to make any sudden movements – both due to the elevator's instability and an aching in his hip. He’s only semi successful before the elevator groans again, and he stills. 

As Jayce’s mind finally catches up to reality, his voice stumbles over itself to fill the shocked silence, each word more useless than the last, “Sorry! I didn’t– I wasn’t–” His face burns, heart racing from both adrenaline and the sudden proximity. His flustered apology grinds to a halt as his breath catches painfully in his throat and he jerks forwards with a wet, scraping cough.

It bursts out of him before he can stop it, crackling deep in his chest and forcing him to bury his face in the crook of his elbow. His nose and mouth are already covered by two layers of medical-grade masks, so whether the action is a desperate attempt to muffle the noise or simply muscle memory, he doesn’t know. 

The cough blooms into a small fit – tight, rattling, as if his lungs are trying to turn themselves inside out. His whole body shakes as he desperately tries to muffle the sound, though he knows it’s a useless effort. Viktor is still pressed awkwardly against his side, cautiously leaning away, but remaining still enough that he won’t risk jostling the elevator. 

And Jayce? He’s one humiliating cough away from begging the elevator to just drop him through the floor. 

He finally manages to catch his breath, his coughing tapering off into shallow, shaky inhales. His eyes are glassy, bleary with fever and exertion, but he still forces himself to look over at Viktor. He’s half dazed, half mortified at the disgusted expression he’s sure he’s about to see. But instead, the smaller man looks at him with sympathy… No. That can’t be right. Jayce really must be out of it, because there’s no way Viktor wouldn’t be looking at him with anything but outright revolution at this point. He opens his mouth, preparing himself to stammer out an apology. 

And then the elevator shudders. And not the nice “wow the elevator is fixed!” kind of shudder, but rather the kind that causes the floor to drop a few inches with a dull, stomach-churning THUD!

Jayce freezes, his heart lurching up into his throat. How has his bad day somehow found a new level of awful? He’d already had a parade of delays, illnesses, and public displays of humiliation. But this takes the cake. 

He doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, doesn’t do anything aside from stare wide-eyed at the flickering overhead light and prepare to plummet to his death. He doesn’t even register his hand half-curled around Viktor’s arm. 

Caitlyn has always teased him for his so-called irrational fear of elevators, rattling off statistics about how rarely they actually malfunctioned. Afterall, he’d been in elevators hundreds of times and never had any issues aside from having to make awkward conversation. 

This, however, is starting to make his fear feel very, very rational. 

Jayce takes a little breath, trying to keep his cool. He looks at Viktor, who doesn’t seem to be any happier about the situation than he is, but significantly more calm. There’s no visible tension in his shoulders, no wild look in his eyes. He seems far more controlled than Jayce feels.

Jayce wants that, needs that – or any semblance of calm or comfort. So he takes a shallow breath through his nose, ignoring its congested squeak and focussing on not freaking the fuck out… Even though his chest aches, his fever simmers under his skin, and he’s sitting in a half-crumpled pile on an elevator floor with the guy he’s been admiring for weeks. 

But Viktor isn’t freaking out, so Jayce won’t either. 

He lasts all of one minute before his thoughts start amping up again. One silent, dreadfully long minute in which neither he or Viktor dare to say a word.

‘It’s fine, right? Elevators stall all the time, it’ll start moving again in a few seconds…’

Jayce shifts uncomfortably, trying not to let his anxiety build into panic as he realizes the gravity of the situation. He’s stuck in an elevator with none other than his nextdoor neighbor, who just so happens to be one of the most jawdroppingly gorgeous people Jayce has ever seen. And he has the worst head cold he’s had in years. It would almost be comedic, if it wasn’t happening to him. 

He clears his throat, hesitantly asking, “should we… uh… press a button?” 

In all his years of higher education, not once had anyone covered what to do if you get stuck in an elevator with your ridiculously attractive neighbor while sick and semi-delirious. There’s no syllabus for this, no instruction manual, no messy notes or annotations for him to reference. 

So, the most logical – panicked, deeply flawed, and purely adrenaline driven – solution he can come up with is to press the third floor button again; maybe the elevator just needs a gentle reminder of where it’s supposed to be going. 

Viktor doesn’t seem to have any better ideas, so he just nods, his expression unreadable as he watches Jayce slowly shift onto his knees and press the bright white 3. And then press it again. And again. And once more for good measure. 

And a fifth time because his panic is gaining momentum and the only thing keeping him from thoroughly embarrassing himself is the vain hope that maybe the fifth time is the charm… No? Okay. What about a sixth?

After Jayce presses the button upwards of ten times, Viktor finally pipes up, “It was probably disabled when the elevator…” he gestures vaguely with his hand, unsure what to say other than “fucking broke,” and that didn’t seem like the most suitable option, given Jayce’s evident panic. So Viktor lets the sentence trail off, doing his best to remain calm in an attempt to ground Jayce. 

Jayce sinks back down to the floor, nodding a little and saying, “Right… so we just… wait.” His voice is strained, resigned to the fact that he can’t do anything aside from sit and do his best not to completely freak out. He leans his head against the cold metal wall behind him and exhales through his mouth stuffily. 

Viktor nods, shifting so he can lean back against the wall and relieve some pressure from his hips. The motion is practiced, subtle, like he’s done this before – and he certainly has, he knows exactly where the strain lives in his body. 

Jayce taps his fingers nervously against the floor, taking a steadying breath and doing his best to ignore the steady thrum of anxiety pulsing through his body. It’s fine. This is fine. Except realistically, it’s anything except fine. Jayce must’ve done something truly horrible to deserve whatever karmic shit the universe was throwing at him today. 

As if the situation just had to get worse, Jayce feels his nose twitch, the lingering itch making itself known again: persistent, teasing. He scrunches up his nose beneath the mask, moving it from side to side in an attempt to lessen the itch, but it only serves to make it run more. He can feel a drop of mess slipping over his upper lip and towards his chin, and once again he attempts to sniff – afterall, it solved his problems last time, why wouldn’t it work again?

SND-RKk! Jayce’s attempt at containing the mess is all but humiliating, halting halfway upon entry into his nose and resulting in a soggy, congested squeak. The sound is deeply unflattering, breaking through the stillness of the elevator and doing nothing to help relieve the irritation in Jayce’s nose. 

His eyelids flutter as the buzzing worsens: a sharp, needling sensation that blooms right behind the bride of his nose. His eyebrows knit together in a grimace, and he clamps his mouth shut in an attempt to stop himself from hitching. 

He presses his tongue to the top of his mouth, holding his breath and repeating ‘I don’t have to sneeze. I don’t have to sneeze. I don’t have to sneeze’ in his mind, as if he could mentally block the sensation prickling through his nose. He can feel his nostrils flare beneath the mask, wet and sensitive against the fabric. At the risk of making things worse, Jayce rubs his finger along the base of his nose over the mask, but it barely provides him any relief. 

‘Please. Not here. Not now. Not in front of him,’ He begs internally, squeezing his eyes shut for a second.

Despite his best efforts, Jayce can feel the itch worsening. He clamps his jaw shut stubbornly, refusing to draw a breath, but his head still snaps forwards with a pitifully stifled runt of a sneeze, “h’nNGKSXgTCHh’uh!”

The stifle (if you can even call it that) is harsh enough to jolt his whole body; his shoulders hunch, his legs twitch involuntarily, and his torso forcibly curls in on itself. It’s muffled into the fabric of his masks, but messy all the same – wet and uncomfortable and clinging to both the fabric and the base of his nose. Within seconds, he feels the heat of it seep through the first layer of the material.

‘Oh. My. God.’

For a second, he doesn’t move, doesn’t do anything aside from sit there dazedly, his eyes fluttering half-closed as the itch lingers. 

Then, a mortifying sense of shame burns through his chest, and he feels himself flush with embarrassment. He downright refuses to look at Viktor, desperately trying to think of some solution aside from the obvious one. He has to clean himself up somehow, and he has to manage it with the few tissues he has shoved unceremoniously in his pocket… but in order to do that, he’d have to remove his mask and risk Viktor seeing the absolute mess he’s made. 

Jayce’s thoughts are interrupted by a soft, almost tentative “Bless you,” from the man sitting beside him, and he feels his face flush an even deeper shade of red from his cheeks to his ears and down his neck.

He doesn’t dare try to speak; he doesn’t trust his voice right now – he doesn’t trust anything about his body right now – so he just dips his head in a quick, polite nod. He can feel the mess sitting inside his mask, humid and awful and clinging uncomfortably to his lips and skin. But the thought of taking off his mask, of drawing attention to himself, makes his chest tighten with anxiety. So he just… endures it. Miserably. 

Within seconds, Jayce’s nose twitches again, and this time he doesn’t even have a moment to prepare before a harsh sneeze grates against his throat, “hHH-hHRRRSZZCHhuew!”

He takes in a shaky breath, realizing in horror that there’s no possible way for him to avoid removing his masks. They’re already soaked anyways, and Jayce is almost certain there’s a visible damp spot where the mess has been clinging to the inside of the fabric. 

“Sorry,” Jayce apologizes sheepishly, holding a hand over his masked-mouth out of habit, “do you mind if I -sNDFf- tagke off my masgk for a secgond?”

His voice is so congested it’s almost incomprehensible, but somehow Viktor doesn’t seem disgusted with Jayce, in fact, he seems almost fascinated by the sickly man. No, Jayce must be misreading the signs… maybe Viktor just happens to be a very good actor, and his disgust is merely hidden behind a neutral expression. 

“Not at all,” Viktor responds, his voice heavily accented and softer than Jayce remembered it, “you seem quite uncomfortable.”

Jayce blushes once again, rubbing the nape of his neck sheepishly and saying, “Yeah… id’s nodt the ideal scenario,” before realizing how that sounds and quickly trying to recover, “nodt that you’re– idt’s mbe. I’mb… uncomfortable,” he finishes lamely. 

Somehow he earns a smile from the smaller man. An actual, real smile, the kind that makes Viktor’s eyes crinkle at the sides and reveals thin but visible smile lines along his cheeks. 

For just a moment, Jayce’s hatred of the situation lessens. 

But then his body reminds him of the circumstances, forcing him to clear his throat as he feels phlegm start to build at the base of his throat. Now that he at least has Viktor’s permission, he feels slightly more comfortable with the prospect of taking off the masks (and besides, he really can’t handle the sensory discomfort of them while they’re coated in mess). 

He turns away from Viktor slightly, pinching the material around his nose to try and contain as much of the mess as he can as he removes the bands from around his ears with his other hand. He shoves the masks unceremoniously into his pocket, making a mental note to throw them away as soon as possible. 

As soon as he takes off the masks, his nose twitches, apparently upset at being exposed when it's in such terrible condition. With the barrier removed, Viktor can see just how sensitive Jayce’s nose is: bright pink, chapped, and twitching in irritation. 

Jayce fumbles to pull a mostly-intact travel pack of tissues from his pocket, noting that he only has a few left. He can’t quite sum up the confidence to blow his nose, so he just does his best to wipe away the residual mess while sniffling wetly against the tissue. 

He knows he’s being gross. He feels gross, but he seems to have caught a cold that downright refuses to be tamed. Usually, he’d hole himself up in his apartment with a bottle of NyQuil and do his best to sleep it off, but the universe decided otherwise.

Viktor, who’s been respectfully quiet, shifts slightly beside Jayce before saying, “I don’t think anyone looks particularly dignified when they’re sick.”

Jayce glances at him in surprise, the dampened tissue still pressed to his septum. Viktor doesn’t look directly at him, instead choosing to pick at the same loose thread on his sleeve again. Neither his tone nor expression reveal his intention in saying that… but Jayce has a feeling it wasn’t meant to be an insult, though it certainly could’ve been interpreted that way. 

“Whadt, you don’d thingk this is dignified?” Jayce tries to joke, tucking the used tissue into the same pocket as the soiled masks and offering Viktor a tired grin. 

“Do you?” Viktor replies, his lips curling up ever so slightly – just enough to reassure Jayce that it’s okay, he’s not intending to be an ass, he just comes off a bit harsh. 

“Ndo…” he admits, running a hand through his hair and clearing his throat again as it protests against its use, “so… we’re neighbors.” Admittedly, smalltalk isn’t one of Jayce’s strongsuits, not with strangers anyways (especially strangers who he happens to be attracted to). But Viktor seems to find Jayce’s awkward blunders amusing, huffing out a little breath and agreeing, “yes. We are.” 

“Righdt. I mean, you already knew that.. Because of the teas and–,” Jayce internally groans, thinking ‘why am I still talking’ as he tries his best to string together enough words to form a coherent sentence. Between his fever, his anxiety over the elevator’s malfunction, and his infatuation with Viktor, he can’t quite compose himself. His voice trails off, letting his sentence hang in the air unfinished. 

His nose gives a sudden, traitorous twitch and he presses the back of his wrist beneath his nostrils, sniffling thickly in an attempt to stop the mounting itch. Instead, it worsens, buzzing up through his sinuses and causing his nostrils to flare against his sleeve. His brows furrows, his eyes starting to shut as his breath catches in his chest, “hh-”

He barely manages to stutter out, “S’cuse mbe,” before sucking in a desperate breath, “hhHHHh–” and pivoting into his elbow, “hhHG’GDSXCHhew’hgh!”

The sneeze tears out of him, wrenching and wet, his shoulders jerking forwards with the force of the expulsion. He snuffles wetly in the aftermath of the sneeze, turning away from Viktor again as he fumbles to pull another tissue from his pocket with his free hand. His pocket resists him, the crinkled plastic of the tissue pack catching on the fabric, so by the time he manages to get a tissue free, he can already feel a damp splotch forming on the sleeve of his sweatshirt. 

Blushing crimson, Jayce removes his nose from his elbow, quick to fold the tissue over his nose in an attempt to clean himself up. To make things worse, his nose doesn’t seem to be done yet. 

A slow, unmistakable tickle crawls up through the bride of his nose, and he draws a breath through his mouth as his eyes flutter half-shut again. 

“hhHHhh… huhh-HHh’…”

He pauses, waiting. His nostrils flare. His lips part. The tickle worsens into a full blown burning, testing his already worn patience. 

“hhihh… huhh’HHhh—”

Within seconds, he goes from wishing he wouldn’t sneeze to wishing he could just let it out. Embarrassment eats at his chest as he feels Viktor shift next to him, reminding him of his close proximity. 

Jayce attempts to rub his nose through the tissue, pinching it shut with a squelch before moving his fingers up and down. It only results in another desperate series of hitches. 

“huh-hHhhuhh…! H-hhhHHh-huhhh… hhHHH–” and then nothing. “Oh c’mbon,” he breathes hoarsely, his voice barely audible. He doesn’t even care that he’s humiliatingly desperate to sneeze right now, he just wants to get it over with. His chest swells with another inhale, “HHHhhuhhhh–!”

By this point, his eyes are watering, his mouth hanging agape, and his brows pinched tight in pure, itchy suffering. The tissue sits uselessly between his fingers, fluttering as each hitching breath catches its surface. 

After what feels like ages, Jayce sucks in a shaky breath, “hhHHHihHh-” before he finally snaps forwards, “hh’HGZZSCHhtCHhuh!” and a second follows right on its heels, “hhRRZZSCHhh-uh!”

He stays there, bent at the waist and keeping the soaked tissue pressed to his nose as he sniffles experimentally, letting out a breath of relief as the itch dies down. 

“Gezundheit,” Viktor murmurs breathlessly from beside Jayce, watching as Jayce holds the mess of a tissue to the base of his nose. 

“Thangks,” Jayce rasps in response, doing his best to wipe his nose and snuffle back the moisture threatening to drip from the appendage, “Sorry… thad was preddy gross.”

He cringes at just how congested his voice is. He desperately needs to blow his nose, but he only has two tissues left and there’s no way in hell he’s using them now. They’ve barely been stuck in the elevator for five minutes, and it doesn’t seem like it’ll start moving again any time soon. The tissue he’s currently holding has lost all structural integrity, and he resigns himself to shoving it into his pocket along with the other. 

“It’s fine,” Viktor dismisses simply, “you’re sick.”

That felt like the understatement of the year. Jayce had tested for the flu and strep just to be safe, and both tests had come up negative, but he feels like he’s been hit by a truck. Whatever cold he’s managed to catch is doing a number on him. 

“Yeah, budt thad was excebtionally–,” his breath stutters out of nowhere, catching him by surprise and barely giving him enough time to half-cover with a hand before, “Hh’DTSSZCHhgh’uhh!” 

Despite his best efforts, some of the spray makes it past his broad hand, glinting in the luminescent light before falling lamely onto his lap. He snorts back as much mess as he can, certain that Viktor is getting a full on view of the most humiliating moment he’d experienced in years. His palm glistens with moisture, uncomfortably wet and probably less sanitary than the floor of a New York subway. 

Jayce groans softly under his breath, his chest twisting in embarrassment as he weighs the pros and cons of using his second-to-last tissue. He lowers his dripping hand, fishing in his pocket for another tissue as he admits defeat. He’s absolutely fucked. 

After taking a minute to clean himself up, Jayce resigns himself to apologize again, sounding a bit like a broken record at this point – sneeze, apology, sneeze, apology, and so on. 

“I’mb so sorry,” he mutters, his voice even thicker with congestion now, “Thadt was… I swear, I’mb usually a lod less digdusting thand this…” He doesn’t dare look up to gauge Viktor’s reaction, instead dabbing his nose with the sodden excuse of a tissue held in his hand. 

“I’m sure you are,” Viktor replies, almost sounding amused by Jayce’s predicament. Jayce can’t even begin to fathom why Viktor isn’t entirely disgusted by him, especially when they’re trapped in such a small, confined space. 

Viktor breaks the silence with a blunt, but not unkind suggestion, “You should blow your nose.”

Usually, if anyone had suggested that to him, Jayce might feel like a child, but something about Viktor makes him appreciate the comment slightly. It’s obviously not coming from a place of judgement, but rather much needed advice (Jayce doesn’t even notice that his nose has begun to run over his upper lip again, but Viktor has a clear view of it). 

The sick man gives a pitiful laugh, which turns into a short bout of coughing, before admitting, “I only have two tissues lefd… and I clearly need themb. I don’d wanna -sNNFf- use themb yet in case we’re stugk here for hours.” 

“That is… an optimistic estimate, is it not?” Viktor replies simply, casting a doubtful glance at Jayce, knowing the tissues won’t last another five minutes. Again, he’s not rude, but upfront. He doesn’t seem to have any interest in dancing around the subject of Jayce’s illness. 

Jayce tries to come up with a response as his ears burn bright pink again, but he’s interrupted as Viktor shifts, reaching into his coat pocket. There’s a quiet ruffling of fabric before Viktor wordlessly extends his hand, holding a neatly folded dark-gray handkerchief. Its edges are soft with wear, but it appears to be well maintained. 

Jayce blinks, “Waidt… seriously?” He’s always surprised when people extend small kindnesses to him, despite Caitlyn reassuring him that he’s just as deserving of them as anyone else. 

“Well,” Viktor finally meets his eyes, “You seem to need it more than I do.”

When Jayce hesitates to accept the fabric, Viktor adds, “I wash it frequently. It’s clean.”  It’s a simple gesture, small and likely insignificant, but it unspools something knotted in Jayce’s chest. 

He grins, enough as to wear Viktor can see his tooth-gap and dimples, and says, “thangk you, really. I owe you one.”

Viktor shrugs, politely averting his gaze as Jayce wipes his nose with the cloth, “technically, I owed you for the tea. We’re even.” 

Jayce settles for nodding in response, unfolding the handkerchief and wiping at the moisture clinging to his septum again. No matter how much he tends to the appendage, it seems intent on running. Thankfully, the fabric of the handkerchief is soft, but it still does little to soothe his raw, irritated nose. 

Jayce glances down at the cloth in his hands, folding it carefully along the seams out of habit. He usually carries a handkerchief, especially when he’s sick, but he’d managed to soil all of his in the past two days since catching this cold. It’s not like he’s been in any condition to do laundry, so he’s been surviving off of whatever half-empty tissue packs he could find around his place. 

Jayce’s breath suddenly catches mid-thought, his chest swelling with a loud hitch, “hhHh’h–” and he tents the handkerchief over his nose just before he shudders forwards with a poorly muffled, “hhH’HMPDTSCSHHuhh!”

He doesn’t have time to mutter another apology; the elevator lurches, stuttering down a few inches before there’s a mechanical whirring. The two men stay perfectly still, Jayce’s hands still holding the handkerchief over his nose. The whirring continues, but the elevator doesn’t move, for better or for worse. Jayce wipes his nose against the dark-gray hankie and snuffles once the coast seems clear. 

“If we’re going to die in an elevator, you might as well blow your nose first,” Viktor suggests again.

Jayce can’t decide whether to laugh or panic at Viktor’s comment, so he just settles for swallowing his pride and blowing his nose. It sounds pathetically clogged, but it allows some of the congestion in his sinuses to shift, giving him a moment of relief. 

A very, very short lived moment of relief. 

His nose twitches, the sensitive appendage downright revolting at the congestion having moved, and Jayce barely has time to cup the handkerchief over his nose again before his breath catches, “hhHh!”

“hhhHHR’DZSSHh’CHhgh!!”

The sneeze bursts out with a damp, desperate force, caught into the folds of the hankie, which is quickly becoming wet from overuse. Jayce draws another uneven, desperate breath, another sneeze already building, “hhHHhh’ihhh… hh’DZGXTshhhuhh!! Huh’GXSSHHhhuhf!!”

The second part of the double takes him completely by surprise, leaving him breathless. A quiet groan slips out before he can stop himself, and despite his breath hitching again, he mutters, “Hh’uhh… fuhhck– I’mb–I’mb s–hhhhhuhhh… sorhhh.”

His voice trails off, his eyes fully closed as his breath hitches in uneven, pitiful gasps, “hehh–hhHHHHuhhh… hhh-” his head tilts back, his adams apple bobbing with each desperate breath, “hh’DdZZSSCHHguhh!!” 

Jayce can’t remember the last time he’s sneezed like that, and it takes him a second to catch his breath. He winces as he swallows, his throat aching as a result of the fit. Despite the handkerchief having caught all of the mess, Jayce is still beyond mortified. If he had thought he had no chance with Viktor before, he sure as hell doesn’t now. 

He sits there, stewing in his embarrassment as he blows his nose as quietly as possible. Once he’s cleaned himself up, Viktor offers a “bless you. Again.”

“Sorry… againd,” Jayce replies, trying to offer Viktor an awkward grin, but it ends up as more of a grimace, “I shouldn’d habve lefd mby apardmend today, bud -snNFf- I had to tagke an exam and… and you don’d ndeed to know this… Sorry.”

Viktor shrugs, once again playing with the loose string on his sleeve as he dismisses the apology, “You said that already. Several times.” 

Jayce feels a bit of the anxiety sitting in his chest dissipate, and he nods a little. He’s generally talkative, and he tends to ramble when he’s anxious, but it doesn’t seem like Viktor minds all that much. 

He rubs the nape of his neck, noting the way his skin seems to radiate feverish heat, trying to change the subject away from his incessant apologies, “So.. you jusd moved in a few weegks ago?”

Viktor nods, shifting his position once again, wincing ever so slightly with the movement, “Yes. Almost a month ago now. This complex is much closer to my university’s campus than my previous one,” he explains conversationally. If it was anyone else, he’d probably ignore any attempt at smalltalk, but Jayce is… an exception to that. 

“Universidy?” Jayce asks, perking up a little, “Where do you go?”

“Piltover Technological Institute,” Viktor answers, glancing at Jayce and noting his smile. How someone so sick still manages to smile like that is beyond him, “I take it you’re familiar with it?”

“Yeah!” Jayce’s voice catches in his throat, a bit too enthusiastic and forcing him to cough into his elbow. After taking a second to catch his breath, he continues, “I’mb a junior there. I’mb sdudying engineering with a fogcus on Aerospace engineehhring … hhh- and thhihhermo–” he blinks rapidly, his nostrils flaring outwards as his breath starts to catch, “thermodynamihhHihcs–” he barely manages to stutter through the word before, ““hHH-hHRRRSZZCHhuew!”

Luckily, he covers the sneeze with the handkerchief, catching the splurge of mess and muffling the sound as best he can, “Ugh, sor–”

“Don’t apologize,” Viktor interrupts him, waving his hand dismissively and leaning back against the elevator wall again, “it’s rather redundant at this point.”

Jayce swallows, nodding and trying to ignore the growing fondness in his chest. Viktor doesn’t seem disgusted by him, or irritated with his ramblings and blunders – maybe his chance at becoming closer with his neighbor isn’t completely blown. 

“Right. So uhmb, whadt are you studying?” He asks, trying to keep the conversation going, if anything just so he can hear Viktor’s voice. He wants to ask where the other man is from, he assumes somewhere in Russia, but there’s an aspect of Vitkor’s accent that he can’t quite place. 

“Chemical engineering and biotechnology, though I prefer the ladder. It has more opportunity for innovation,” even from the simple response, Jayce can tell that Viktor’s passionate about the subject. He has subtle, but noticeable mannerisms that give his interest away – a slight upturn of his eyebrows, a glimpse of smile lines along his cheeks, a little shift in his posture, as if he’s drawn in by the topic. 

“So you’re – sNDDFf’gh – inderesded in STEM?” Jayce’s question is dulled by congestion, but sounds excited nonetheless, “we habve thad in common.”

He’s forced to press the handkerchief against his septum again, wiping away a bit of moisture that was threatening to drip over his upper lip. He tries to find a relatively dry section of the cloth to clean himself up, though most of it is already sodden. 

Viktor nods in response to Jayce, “We do,” he agrees as he looks over at the sick man again, “so Aerospace engineering, this is what you want to have an occupation in?” he asks. Jayce grins at the way he phrased the question. His grammar isn’t wrong by any means, but after growing up in Piltover Jayce had become well accustomed to the “speaking-norms” – norms which Viktor seems unaccustomed or uninterested in. 

“Yeah, I thignk so ad leasd. It’s the mosd realistigk field I can go into,” he pauses, swiping his wrist against his septum, “budt we’ll see. I always wandted to be an invendtor.”

Why exactly Jayce is telling Viktor he wanted to be an inventor, he’s not entirely sure, but once it comes out of his mouth, he realizes just how childish it sounds. He opens his mouth to try and say something, anything that makes him sound like a functioning adult when Viktor notes, “me too.” 

“Really?” Jayce’s surprise must be written all over his face because he earns a little laugh from Viktor, making his chest flutter. 

“Yes, really.” Viktor sits up straighter, correctly his posture with a quiet, concealed breath of discomfort before continuing, “Biotech is very interesting, but I would like to have my own lab. Unrestricted research, without the guidelines and paperwork.”

Jayce grins, finding Viktor’s evident dislike of paperwork amusing. 

“I mean it is useless. Why waste time with regulations?” he continues, his accent a bit thicker as he grows more comfortable around Jayce. In an attempt to impress Viktor, Jayce desperately tries to remember a quote he’d read from one of his coursebooks. His fever-addled brain takes a moment to piece it together; he knows it’s from Iven Maren, one of the founders of the Piltover Institute for Radical Inquiry (PIRI). 

Something about disobeying rules… science knows no limits. It's from Maren’s most recently published book; he tries to remember the page he’d read it on, vaguely picturing the image of the founder beside the quote. 

“You kdow, Iven Maren said that “science isn’t meant to be polite, or convenient. It’s meant to – hhhh –” his breath hitches, but he tries to continue, “to ask the hHihh– thhhheh– hh’DZSSCHhhuh!!” He catches the sneeze against his wrist, keeping it held there as he stubbornly keeps talking, “the questhhhions – hhHHh’GGDTSSHhhuehh!!”

The second one is considerably messier, and he keeps his wrist pressed against his septum to contain the mess. The fabric of his sleeve dampens, clinging unpleasantly to his skin as he fumbles to grab the handkerchief off his lap and clean himself up. He gives a wet little groan in the back of his throat, blushing crimson once again. 

“I do not think he said that,” Viktor teases, his tone dry, “bless you,” he adds, his lips curling into a grin. Despite his blushing embarrassment, Jayce laughs, feeling a sense of comfort at Viktor’s teasing, “thangks.” 

After a moment, Viktor’s voice breaks the silence, “it’s meant to ask the questions no one wants answered, especially the ones that threaten the rules.” He finishes Jayce’s quote with ease, grinning at Jayce’s impressed expression. 

“You’ve read Theoredical Pathways ind Modern Engineering?” Jayce asks excitedly, his tooth gap once again making an appearance as he smiles. 

“Who hasn’t?” 

For the next twenty minutes or so, the two of them talk about the various texts they’ve recently read. Jayce does most of the yapping despite the aching in his throat, but he can’t help it. His wallowing misery over being so sick is temporarily put on hold, replaced with an opportunity to talk about his interests. Viktor is equally as engaged in the conversation, noticing when Jayce wears out his voice and taking it as a cue to talk more so the sick man can rest his throat for a moment. 

Jayce listens intently whenever Viktor speaks, making a mental note of every new thing he learns about him: he prefers natural sciences over mechanical engineering, he recently conducted an experiment with the aid of a professor, he’d like to design his own experiment in the future… and there there are things like the fact that his eyes have little golden specks throughout them, making them change color ever so slightly as the lights flicker. Or that his hands absentmindedly play with the bit of threat hanging from his sweater sleeve, twisting it just enough as to where it won’t fall off. 

His internal observations are interrupted as he feels the itch in his nose return, interrupting Viktor with a sudden, “hhhHHuh–”

Viktor pauses, recognizing the sound and knowing exactly what’s about to happen. Despite it being rather obvious, Jayce insists on stuttering out, “shhsorry I’mb gonnahhh… hHHHh snhhehH– sneeze– hhH’RRSZSCHhhuh!! hhhK’TSSCHhh’uhgh!!”

The expulsions come back to back, spraying the already sodden handkerchief and leaving Jayce a little breathless. “Whew,” he exclaims quietly, 

“Bud’te zdorovy,” Viktor murmurs, the Russian blessing slipping out without him fully intending.

i know it ends suddenly, but there will be more!! if anyone has any ideas/requests for the second part feel free to send me a message or DM :) i plan on keeping them trapped in the elevator for quite some time... sorry J/ayce...

A sudden twinge in his sinuses stopped him in his tracks. His nostrils quivered, and he brought his wet shirt color to his nose.

“HP’CHHHHHUH!”

Derek groaned, his head suddenly pounding. With no other choice, he blew his nose into his shirt with a loud honk, trying to clean himself up. When’s the last time this old warehouse had been cleaned?

“Gesundheit.”

Derek started. He looked around, still holding his collar firmly to his nose.

“Ghuhuh?”

A familiar, stern face looked up at him, and Derek stood at attention.

It was the boss.

Dr. Mort — the “t” was silent, as he had reminded his henchmen many a time — required utmost effort and organization. Every piece of equipment had a purpose, every scheme had a schedule, and anyone that got in his way…

Well, let’s just say Derek had to fill out quite a bit of paperwork.

“I take it the shipment has been unloaded?” Dr. Mort asked, turning on his heel and walking down yet another of the warehouse’s dismal halls.

Derek quickly followed him, trying to keep step.

“Yes, boss, everything has been - snf - accounded for.”

“Good.”

Dr. Mort checked his watch and nodded.

“Then everything is on schedule. The live cultures have almost grown to capacity, and the canisters will provide a container for them until they can be used. The new recruits have been trained on their masks, correct? Any cross-contamination could be-”

“HAH’KSHHHHHUH!”

Dr. Mort stopped, his ears perking up. He slowly turned towards Derek, his eyes narrowed.

“…disastrous.”

Derek stammered, his knuckle under his nose.

“S-Sorry, boss. ‘S dusty, is all.”

Dr. Mort looked at his henchman for a few more seconds, then continued on to the lab.

“This is the perfect time to enact my plan. Little interpersonal traffic, cold weather, and a lack of travel will keep my virus spreading, while also being easy to track. Of course, it will require some of you to plant the canisters, but the delayed activation will mean few risks to your men.”

Dr. Mort shook his head and gave Derek one of his famous displeased grimaces.

“There’s already so few of you as it is.”

The doctor plowed through the swinging doors of his lab, one of them almost hitting Derek square in his red nose.

“I’m getting another shipment tomorrow afternoon,” Dr. Mort said. “I expect it to be completely unloaded and sorted by evening. They are glass instruments required for the final step of this very long process. If any of you in any way damage them, you will all be getting a substantial pay cut.”

Dr. Mort finally came to a stop behind his desk, which was covered with notes, charts, and not a small amount of burn marks. He laid his hands on top of them, spreading his fingers and staring ahead at Derek with hard, black eyes.

“Do I make myself clear, Mr. Hammond?”

Derek shivered — whether it was Dr. Mort’s withering look or the frigid lab, he couldn’t tell.

“Y-Yeah, boss. Loud ‘n cleheh-!”

Derek squeezed one eye shut, trying to shove his knuckle against his nostrils again. What was wrong with him? He’d been working in this hunk of metal for months now — the dust and mildew and mold and other gunk had never bothered him before. But now it was like he couldn’t take a step in this place without needing to sneeze.

Dr. Mort had sat down at his desk, and was resting his face on clasped hands, watching over the rims of his glasses.

Was he…studying him?

“‘Scuse be, boss, I gotta…I’b gonna…HAH-!”

Derek grabbed the edge of a work table, his nostrils flaring as he tried to cover with his hand. But it was far too late to contain his nose.

“HKK’SHUUUUUUUH! HMP’TCHHHUH! Huh…HAP’TCHHHHHH!”

Dr. Mort’s eyes widened as Derek continued to sneeze. Every time the henchman tried to speak, or even take a deep breath, he had to bury himself in his shirt collar — if he could even manage to get it up to his face in time.

Finally, Derek groaned, holding his aching head. It felt like he was filled with cotton wool from the tip of his scalp to his now very sore throat. He looked at the doctor blearily, who had moved to the front of the desk and was regarding Derek with a piercing gaze.

“I’b…snf!…real, real sorry, boss,” Derek snuffled, putting a large fist in front of his offending nose. “Ever since I fidished unloading th-the truck, I’ve been sdeezin’ somethin’ awful.”

He hurriedly wiped his hands on the front of his shirt.

“I-I can help ya clean up! Or I’ll get ode of the crew! Lemme go get ‘em…”

Derek turned to leave. He felt a cold hand grip one of his wrists. He shivered.

“No,” Dr. Mort said. “Please. Do stay, Mr. Hammond.”

Derek winced, but turned around. Every sore muscle tense, his body was now shivering all over, and his teeth chattered between every word.

“B-Boss, I swear, I’ll make it up to ya. You don’d gotta do anything-”

Dr. Mort gestured to a nearby steel chair.

“Sit.”

Reluctantly, Derek did as he was told, slumping into the much-too-small chair.

This was the end. He was going to die because of some damn dust. Honestly, he almost wished he had just been a mole or sold information to the Heroes Legion. At least then he could get some cool points beyond the grave. And maybe the legion could cover his funeral expenses. Though the paperwork for that was really steep, and he didn’t want his mom going through that mess. Life insurance was part of the doctor’s benefits package, but did that apply if he was killed for misconduct?

“Open.”

Derek blinked. Dr. Mort was holding a thermometer in front of the henchman’s mouth, raising his eyebrows.

Derek slowly opened his mouth, and Dr. Mort laid the tip under his tongue, at the same time measuring Derek’s pulse by his wrist.

After a minute or two, the thermometer beeped, and the doctor read the results as he walked towards his work table.

“Mhm, yes..a degree shy of one-oh-three.”

Derek choked at the number, causing a rough coughing fit. Dr. Mort, on the other hand, seemed nonplussed, and gathered a few tools from the counter.

“Sneezing, coughing, congestion, high fever. Good. Very good.”

Dr. Mort took a small pen light and shone it into Derek’s eyes. The henchman’s nostrils quivered, and he sneezed yet again into his collar.

“I-I’b sorry…” he began, but the doctor cut him off.

“Do you have any other symptoms? Aching joints, rash, nausea, headache?”

Derek massaged his pounding temples. This was all happening too fast.

“I…I really ab sick?” he rasped.

Dr. Mort’s mouth curled into a vague imitation of a smile.

“Considering your high fever, phlegm-y coughs, low range of motion, and…”

He looked down at a few papers on a work table next to them.

“…your sneezes, which were both high in force and number, I don’t believe there is any other explanation. Now!”

Dr. Mort took a small syringe out of his lab coat pocket — with no needle, to Derek’s relief — and held it to the henchman’s face.

“If you would lean your head back so I may gather a sample…”

Sample?!

Despite his confusion, Derek leaned his head back, and Dr. Mort put the end of the syringe just inside his nostril. He pulled back the plunger, filling the barrel halfway with liquid before withdrawing it again. He whisked the sample over to one of the many microscopes in the lab, beginning to prepare a slide.

“How long have you been ill?” he asked.

Derek stammered. “Uh…I…”

Dr. Mort looked up from the microscope.

“How long have you been feeling poorly?”

“S-Since I unloaded the truck,” Derek replied, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand.

The doctor bounced twice on the tips of his toes, excited.

“Such a fresh sample! Your immune system has barely had the time to fight off the pathogens — what luck! What absolute luck!”

As terrifying as Dr. Mort was angry, Derek wasn’t sure how he felt with them being so…gleeful.

“Yes, yes!”

Dr. Mort was looking at the finished slide now, drumming his fingers on the edge of the counter.

“What beautiful specimens! I knew from your symptoms this was a unique case, but I had no idea-!”

Dr. Mort straightened up and began to sway, tapping his fingers against his cheeks.

“Oh, I can only imagine what’s it’s like to be infected,” he said, to Derek’s shock, almost dreamily. “Such an energetic rhinovirus may only bring a week’s discomfort to such a large body as yourself, but to any average person…”

He bounced on his toes again.

“…at least a month! A month!”

Derek was in awe. Never, not even at the few great successes he had witnessed, had he ever seen Dr. Mort so happy.

“‘S…just a cold, boss,” he said sheepishly. “It’s dothing special.”

Dr. Mort grinned as he looked into the microscope again, as if he were a child receiving a pony on Christmas morning.

“Oh, how wrong you are!” he said. “The structure, the presentation, the energy! Who knew that the perfect specimen would come walking into my lab! Ha ha!”

Derek sniffled, offering his best placating smile.

“Yeah, boss. Maybe I’ll get sick bore often. Heh.”

The doctor’s grin suddenly dropped from his face. Derek spluttered.

“Eh…er…I bean…”

Dr. Mort’s eyes bore into Derek as he walked over to him. The doctor leaned in close, then, suddenly, put his hands on either side of Derek’s head, looking deeply into the henchman’s eyes.

“You must be miserable,” he whispered, as if he solved one of the world’s greatest mysteries.

“Nghuh?”

The doctor shifted his hands downward, feeling Derek’s upper neck.

“Your lymph nodes are very swollen,” he continued. “You’re severely congested, your fever is high, your chest is rattling, and those sneezes…”

His tsked.

“And you are only at the beginning of your infection. Your symptoms will only get worse as the infection runs its course. And not everyone has the…affinity for illness that I do. I warrant you are much less interested in the trajectory of your infection than I am. In fact, I’m sure you would rather it be concluded as soon as possible.”

Dr. Mort chuckled and shook his head.

“But you, Mr. Hammond, have quite a week or two ahead of you. Fevers so high you become delirious, a throat so sore you can hardly speak, coughing so severe breathing becomes laborious.”

The doctor started to sway again, but stopped himself. He set his used tools into either a sink or the trash, then put the newly made pedri dish in a small plastic container.

“You will stay in the lab’s quarters, of course, so that I may observe the virus’s progress for the duration of your illness. I’m sure you will find your arrangements much more comfortable than the henchmen’s quarters.”

Derek began to rise from his chair, but a dizzy spell made him sit back down again.

“B-Bud I godda…the new shibment, and the new guys, and training…and…and…”

His protests were cut off by a string of rattling coughs.

“‘Sides,” he continued, his voice hoarse, “it’ll all blow over by toborrow. ‘S just the sniffles, that’s all, boss. You don’t godda roll out the red carpet.”

“Tomorrow!”

Dr. Mort laughed, something that chilled Derek’s blood more than his raging fever.

“I suppose I’ll add ‘delusions’ to your list of symptoms, hm? Now, I shall show you to your quarters, before you become even more delirious.”

Before Derek could argue further, he was pulled out of his seat and further back into the laboratory.

“You will need to let me know of every new symptom you have,” Dr. Mort said. “Every ache, pain, every little thing that you feel — nothing is too unimportant for my research!”

“N-Ngh’kay,” Derek murmured, fighting off another dizzy spell. Dr. Mort seemed to notice this, and reigned in their excitement, walking slower.

“I know that my excitement may seem…undeserved, Mr. Hammond, even grating, but…after many years of pedri dishes and cultures, seeing a disease of this caliber infect a real human body is an opportunity that I cannot pass. However, I doubt you relish the idea of me pestering you with questions.”

Dr. Mort pushed a few numbers into a keypad, then pushed past a pair of gray doors.

“Know that I will mostly observe you, quietly and unobtrusively, taking notes on your illness. You may be subject to a few medical examinations, but your main objective is to…well, to simply be ill.”

Then, quickly added:

“A-And to recover, of course.”

After another pair of doors, the pair of them ended up what looked like a small living room, with a kitchenette in one corner and a couch against the opposite wall. Between them was a short hallway, which Dr. Mort led Derek down by the hand. He stopped in front of a door on the right side, which was painted a dark red.

“This guest room will be a temporary sick bay. My own bedroom is across the hall, and my observations will be frequent.”

Dr. Mort opened the guest room door. Inside was a simple four-poster bed, a bedside table, a large mirror, and a bookshelf full to the brim with thick medical textbooks. Not lavish, but certainly better than the stone and metal barracks Derek was used to sleeping in. And no annoying conversations about whether or not 100 lions could beat one whale from his bunkmates.

“Please,” Dr. Mort said, gesturing to the bed. “You must be exhausted.”

Derek blearily got into the bed, pulling the quilt above his shoulders. He shuddered at the sudden warmth — it reminded him just how cold he was.

Dr. Mort stood in the doorway, taking a clipboard off the wall and writing something.

“A few parameters,” he continued, regaining some of his familiar severeness. “As much of a habit as it is to do so, you mustn’t feign wellness or try to overextend yourself. You’ll skew the results.”

He pointed the pen at Derek.

“And no stifling. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Derek shifted and lifted his head to answer.

“Snnnnf…I’ll t-tuh…try…”

Dr. Mort giddily took out a handkerchief from his lab coat pocket, sensing Derek’s oncoming sneeze.

“Remember, sneeze fully!”

Derek nodded with his mouth open, snatching the handkerchief. His enormous nose wrinkled, and the goon allowed his nostrils to flare as wide as they could.

“Nnghuh…huh…HUUUH-!”

Dr. Mort bit the edge of the pen, transfixed.

“Yes, yes…”

Derek lifted the handkerchief in front of his face.

“Guh-HUHUH-! Suh…suh…sdeeHEE-!”

Nose quivering, Derek stayed on the cusp of a sneeze for what felt like an eternity. But, to Dr. Mort’s delight —

“HEEEEEEEH’TSHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUH!”

Even though Derek sneezed into the handkerchief as he was directed, a blast of spray went past the thin cloth, permeating the air with humanity’s worst head cold.

Dr. Mort stood in the spray, watching the particles fall in awe. His usually waxy face was bright red. Derek sniffled.

“‘Scuse be.”

He blew his nose into the handkerchief, sounding like a trumpet playing underwater.

Dr. Mort snapped out of his trance and pulled out a pair of large tweezers. He gently tweezed the soiled handkerchief out of Derek’s hand, found a small glass jar deep in recesses of his coat pocket, and stuffed the garment into it.

“I hope you don’t mind me taking another sample. You will be provided with more, of course.”

Derek settled back under the covers. The whole ordeal had exhausted him. Dr. Mort was looking at the handkerchief through the glass as if it were some undiscovered animal.

“I do enjoy observing these little protozoans, you know.”

Dr. Mort turned his attention back to Derek.

“I will let your department know of your absence. If you require anything, use your issued communication device.”

Dr. Mort began to leave, then popped his head in.

“And Mr. Hammond?”

“Hnngh?”

Derek saw a wicked smile cross the doctor’s face.

“As much as I would hate to waste such a beautiful specimen, I will not hesitate to…reprimand you as necessary. Do not disobey me.”

Derek swallowed. Though a mixture of confusing feelings welled up inside him, fatigue trumped them all.

My Novels!! Pleasing the Serpent [FxF | Various Causes]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

Character Specific

Liz Vintere x Katya Melekhova

A Fabulous Night [Unspecified Cause—Katya] Candles [Allergy - Liz] Baseball Panic!! [Allergy - Liz] Grant's Hell (PT 1) (PT 2) [Allergy - Liz] Raindrops [Illness - Liz] Daring Riddles [Allergy - Liz & Katya](18+) A Mayor's Address [Allergy—Liz]

Kjerstin Blomkvist x Vivica Baxter

All in a Day's Work [Allergy - Kjerstin | Dust - Vivica (towards the end!)](18+) Allergically Defiant [Unspecified Cause (revealed to be an allergy) - Kjerstin]

Metztli x Phohuang

By the Jungle's Ruins [F x Reader | Unspecified Cause - Metztli] You Can't Make Me Sneeze! [Allergy & Denial—Metztli & Phohuang]

Foscarina x Adalet

Saving Your Breath (Modern Era) [Allergy—Foscarina | Contains Adalet sneezes from an unknown cause] Daintiness (Modern Era) [Induced - Foscarina | Implied Illness - Adalet]

Rowena X Mavourneen

Dusty Judgment [Dust - Rowena](18+)

Misaki Musoubana

Testing the Stars (Pt 1) [Allergy - Misaki] Allergies in Music [Allergy - Misaki]

Orlaith McGullough (Dr. Gully)

Case 404: Time-Warping Syndrome [Allergy - Orlaith] The Tickle Project [Induced + Allergy - Orlaith]

One-Shots

Untitled [Allergy - Ferris (DC)] The Amazon's Plight [Induced - Mireya (DC)] Ah, the Goddess Sneezes! [Allergy - Stefania | Cold - Hannele](18+)

RP Snippets

Entry I [Allergy - Valencia] Entry II: The Lich Queen's Ally [Allergy - Loviatar]

"Novel Pieces"

“Abel!” The young seraphim turns to the shepherd. “He won’t be taking that anywhere but to his bedroom. We aren’t sending him back outside.” Turning back to Peter, Emily scolds him as well. “I don’t care what has to be done. You will be resting.”

Abel crosses his arms. “I’m just trying to be supportive. I still do my job when I’m sick.” It’s unfortunately true. Not that Abel exactly has a specific “job”. He usually just wanders around and helps out whenever he is needed. In the event that he is sick, the only one who can ever talk some sense into him is Adam. “That’s not a good thing.” Emily sighs. “He needs to be resting. He can’t be standing outside in the cold greeting new souls that enter Heaven. What will their first impression of Heaven be if the first person they meet is visibly ill? They could think we’re forcing him to stay out there. He could get one of them sick. Then what?” Peter sits back and watches the two argue over him, quietly sipping the coco. If they’re going to argue about his own well being, he may as well be there to witness it. (Them doing it behind his back may only make him sneeze more.)

“If I may,” Peter speaks up, although he pauses to clear his throat (a bit too aggressively). “Another option is letting me do what I want because I’m an adult who can make my own choices?” Abel pauses. “He does have a point.” 

“No he doesn’t,” Emily looks at Peter. “And you aren’t acting like a responsible adult with how little you’re caring about your own health.” Abel shrugs indifferently. “She’s got you there.” Emily turns back to Abel. “Are you on my side or not?” She’s beginning to sound annoyed, and rightfully so. As the seraphim in charge of everyone’s joy, it’s her job to make sure everyone is happy and healthy. And as of the moment, Peter is neither of the two.

The son of Adam throws his hands up in defense. “I’m not trying to take sides. I’m just saying that he’s right about being an adult who can do what he wants, but that you’re also right about him not being a responsible one.” Just a passing glance at Peter would be enough to know he shouldn’t be greeting the new citizens of Heaven. His usually bright eyes look tired. His face is flushed. His every day perfect curl of hair is a bit messy. At the very least, he’s a walking epidemic waiting to happen.

Peter shoves the rest of his lunch into his mouth, taking the coco as he stands up. “Anyway,” he swallows the bite of sandwich. “I need to head back.” Emily stands up, blocking the door. “No way, mister.” She crosses her arms. “I won’t let you go back out there and risk your health just to welcome the newcomers.” The angel groans, gently pushing past her. “Come on Em. There’s people waiting. I can’t just sit inside all day. Who’s gonna watch the door?”

Abel pokes his face. “Please. You’re on your phone most of the time anyway.” Abel pulls out his own phone and looks at it, leaning on the wall to mimic Peter. “Hey. Hi. Welcome to Heaven. Sup?” 

Peter looks genuinely offended. “I am not!” Yes he is.

“I could watch the gate for you.” Emily bounces on the balls of her feet. “I love meeting new winners.” Peter side eyes her.

“You would just let anybody and everybody inside. Sometimes we get souls who aren’t on the list and-,” Peter pauses, sniffling. His breath falters slightly, although he tries to push through. “W-we have to seEH…seEHND-!! h’IH’TCh!! eI’Gg-tCHUuh!! hi’hT’ieuh!! Eh-!! ‘htiEUUH!! Snf!! and- sniFF!! and we have to send themb back dow’d to Hell.”

Abel chuckles. “Bless you.” He picks up a nearby tissue box and gives it to his friend. Peter gratefully takes it and blows his nose softly, trying not to make a show of it.

Emily sighs. “Fine. Do what you want. I don’t have the time to argue with you both. I have to meet with Sera.” Emily turns to leave the lounge. “Please just make good choices.”

Abel and Peter exchange glances as Emily leaves. “Anyway,” Abel turns to him. “If you do wanna keep watching the gate, you should probably get going.”

Peter chuckles. “Yeah. Emily is great but she worries too much.” 

Abel smiles. “She means well. She just wants everyone to be happy.” He starts walking. “Come on, I’ll walk with you back to the gates.” 

Peter smiles. “Alright. Thanks.” He takes the coco and follows Abel back outside. Upon opening the door, the two are immediately met with a cold gust of wind. Abel does his best to shield himself with his wings. Peter attempts to do the same, but Abel’s wings are much bigger than his.

Emily was right about a few things. One being that Peter needs to rest. Another being that it’s cold outside. Abel seems to be doing fine, but he’s dressed properly for the weather. Peter shivers. Abel glances in his direction but doesn’t say anything. He isn’t in the mood to argue with Peter about his current attire. All things considered, being in a nice warm bed sounds pretty tempting, but he can’t back down now. Not after the confrontation with Emily. He can’t give her the satisfaction of winning the argument.

Once they make their way back to the gates, they find a lot of souls waiting to be let in. More than usual. Peter internally rolls his eyes. It’s one of those days. He takes a drink of the coco before setting it on the podium next to the entrance.

Time to prove Abel wrong. He knows how to do his job. He’s good at his job: to be energetic, friendly and happy. Make the humans feel welcome. He spreads his wings and waves at the new winners. “Welcome to Heav-”

Peter begins coughing harshly. Not a great start. Abel winces. The new winners exchange confused looks. Is this supposed to happen? What’s with him? Is he alright? Abel shakes his head, clearly embarrassed on his friend’s behalf.

Eyes watering, he turns around, not wishing to infect the new souls. That wouldn’t be a great first impression. Reel it in Peter. You can save this!! “Wel-ahem! Welcome to Heaven!” Probably shouldn’t be speaking so loudly, but that’s a problem for future Peter. For now, it’s time to carry on as usual. No time for shortcuts. “I’m the gate keeper, St. Peter. It’s an honor to meet you. My job is to make sure all of you feel welcome.” He spins, smiling brightly. Abel chuckles. Peter does like his job but he’s just being a show off because Abel is watching and since he was called out for always being on his phone.

Peter swoops down, gesturing to Abel. “This is my friend, Abel. He’s here to show you around and help you get situated.” 

Abel smiles awkwardly, that crooked gap toothed grin of his. “Hi. I’m Abel. Son of the first man, Adam.” He giggles. He wasn’t expecting to be put on the spot so suddenly.

Opening the gates, St. Peter gestures inside. “Make yourselves at home. Feel free to explore. Enjoy your eternity!” Abel starts walking. "You guys can follow me.” He waves goodbye to Peter and Peter does the same.

Peter clears his throat, downing the rest of the coco. It had cooled off enough. “Ow…” He rubs his throat. Yeah, speaking that energetically like he usually does didn’t help his voice at all. Noticing that his absent sign is still up, he picks it up and tosses it back under the podium.

A cold gust of wind blows past the gates. The angel shivers once again, wrapping his arms tightly around himself. For a place that’s supposed to be perfect, it sure is cold. As much as he loves snow, Christmas, and other things that come with cold weather, he wishes that it could come without the cost of wearing 10 layers of clothing.

The next few hours seem to last an eternity. Every so often there are new souls who pass through the gate. “Hi, welcombe to Heave’d.” He manages to say. “E’djoy your eterni’dy." He gets the occasional confused look from a new soul but they never say anything. 

About half an hour has gone by since the last soul passed through the gates. Peter yawns. His eyes are heavy. He’s exhausted, his throat hurts, his head is pounding. He can close his eyes for just a bit, right? Business is slow right now. Lowering his head, Peter begins to nod off. Just a quick power nap. He’ll get back to work soon… “Snoozing on the job, aye?” Peter jerks his head up, nearly falling over. Glancing around, he looks for who could have possibly- oh. Oh. Oh no. Not him. What could he possibly want this time?

Peter sighs. “What do you want?” He glares at the first man, sniffling. Adam is the absolute last person Peter feels like dealing with right now. Once when it had snowed, Adam and a handful of exorcists began throwing snowballs at him. 

Adam snickers. “Shit. Abel wasn’t joking. You look like shit warmed over.” He crosses his arms, leaning against the gate, laughing. “The fuck are you doing out here anyway? Shouldn’t your ass be in bed?”

“I cahH-!! C-can’t j-just-!! ‘kTD-ChieHh!! hEi’HT’Gtch!! eH’TDshEgh!, ugh, fu’ggk.” Peter wipes his nose on his sleeve. “I ca’dt jus’ leave the gates u’dlocked. Som’beo’de who isn’t supposed to be i’d Heave’d could get i’dside and cause problembs.” He sniffles loudly, Adam wincing slightly.

“Please,” Adam rolls his eyes. “As if Lucifer would let one of his disgusting sinners weasel its way up here. He wants complete control over all of the human souls who fucked up.” Adam laughs again. “Imagine if one of those fuckers made its way up here. We’d for sure have to-”

Peter sighs. “Have you only come here t-t’hH!! T-to…” Damnit. Not again. He’s already embarrassed himself enough as it is. 

Adam raises an eyebrow. “What was that?” He cups his ear. “Didn’t quite hear ya.”

Peter manages to glare at him just before losing composure. “h’HIi-gKTCheuh!! I’hg-tch!! eH’GgxXT’Ch!! I’hH-KTCh!!” He grips the sides of the podium, stabilizing himself so he doesn’t fall over.

“Dad?” Abel walks through the gates. “Please tell me you aren’t causing him trouble. I already told you he doesn’t feel well.” He frowns. “You always do this. Let him do his job without causing chaos. Just this once?” Peter thanks his lucky stars that Abel followed up behind Adam. 

Abel is always a bit clingy. If he’s not with Emily and Peter, wherever Adam goes, Abel is never far behind. Adam sees no reason to complain. Anything to show off how amazing of a father he is.

Adam scoffs. “I’m not doing anything. Just keepin’ him company,” Adam ruffles Peter’s already messy hair. “Isn’t that right, gate boy?” He laughs, knowing that he’s getting under his skin.

Peter pulls away, his wings going rigid. “Please just leave me alo-hH!! eH..hiHH!! eE’hHH-!!” His breath hitches audibly, halo flickering as he struggles to catch his breath. Adam smirks.

“Having trouble St. Snotface?” Adam points at his own face. “You got a little something there.”

Abel puts his face in his hands, pulling his hat over his eyes in shame. “Dad, stop it. You’re being a jerk.”

“How about I just-” Adam walks closer. He crosses his arms and casually extends one of his wings, brushing his feathers against Peter’s face. That seems to do the trick. Adam snickers. “Go on. Don’t be shy-”

“hH’iKT’HhIEUh!! eh-Hihh!! A-Hh’dam! What the fu’ggk is w-wrong with yo-uhh!! Iht’DShEHh!! Egt’TCh-iiuh!! ahH!! haAH’Ght!! Oh my g-ah!! G-god!! Wh-why would you’hH-!? hiiHh ehH-!! hH’AHG’TCH-YEUUGH!!”Adam pulls his wing back. “Ew! I swear to fuck if you get me sick.” 

Abel groans. “Dad, knock it off.” Abel looks ashamed of himself, as if it’s his own fault. “Can’t you two coexist in peace for at least one day?”

Peter sniffles, thick mucus being snorted back into his sinuses. “Adamb started it.”

Abel digs in his robe pocket and gives Peter a pack of travel tissues. “Here.”

Peter gratefully takes the pack. “Tha’ggk you…” He blows his nose. Coughing wetly, he winces, swallowing. “Ow…” That last sneeze had really done a number on his already sore throat. He sniffles again, although it’s less harsh sounding than before.

Adam rolls his eyes. “Whatever. But if I get whatever disease he has, there will be hell to pay.” With that, Adam spreads his wings and takes off back towards the exorcist headquarters.

Abel sighs, shaking his head. “Are you ok? I am so sorry about that.” He turns to Peter. “You know how my dad can be sometimes.” Peter rolls his eyes. “He’s n’dever like that with you.”

Abel chuckles. “He is. I think I get it worst of all just because I’m his son and he can get away with it.” Most of the time Adam gets on Abel’s case about not being more careful during cold and flu season. After being an ass, he is always gentle and caring with Abel. He even lets Abel sleep on top of him. Abel loves affection from his dad. “Come on. You shouldn’t be out here. You’ve clearly gotten worse.” Peter sighs. “Fi’de.” Peter reaches under the podium and puts the sign back up.

“I don’t think that’ll go over very well.” Abel turns back. “Here, let’s write something else.” He takes the dry erase marker and writes a new message:

“Closed until further notice. Feel free to let yourself in. Any one of the Arch Angels can help you get situated and find your way around. Sorry for the inconveneinse. We will get back to you as soon as possible.”

Reading the message, Peter snickers. “Dude, you spelled “inconvenience” wro’gg.” It’s not uncommon for Abel to make spelling errors. He’s not the best when it comes to math, spelling, counting, and a number of other things. It took forever before Abel could say the word “seashells” without saying “stheasthellths”. Especially with his chipped tooth.

Abel giggles, shoving him. “Shut up, I have brain damage.” Abel has absolutely no problem making light of or joking about his own death. If anything, it makes the betrayal and pain of the event hurt less.

As Peter follows Abel, he groans. “I’mb n’dot looki’g forward to Em’bily saying all of her ‘I told you so’ bullshi’dt.” He can already hear her voice going on about how she knows what’s best for him. “She can’d be such a m’bother hen’d in som’be situations.

Abel laughs. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll make sure she isn’t too hard on you about it.” Abel remembers when he had the flu and it took Peter hauling her away just for him to get some peace and quiet. Even still, she insisted that she stand guard outside the door to make sure no one disturbed him while he slept.

Peter rolls his eyes, although a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Uh huh, sure.” If anything, Abel will add to it just to piss him off. It’s all in good fun though.

After making it back to the living quarters, Emily is already waiting for Abel and Peter. Peter groans. “Oh no…”

“Peter!” Emily rushes over to him, bringing a hand to his face. “You look awful. I told you not to go back out there! What were you thinking?”

Peter pulls away. “Lay off, will you?” He walks past her and flops face first onto the sofa. “If I’m gonna die, let me at least enjoy my last moments in peace and quiet.”

Abel chuckles. “You aren’t going to die Peter.” Abel walks over and sits next to him. “You’ll be fine. It’s Heaven. Stuff like this usually passes within 48 hours or less.” He’s used to his father acting similarly. Adam tends to be a bit more dramatic about it, though. “Tell Lute that he leaves his guitar collection to her.” and other things like that.

“Here,” Emily pulls up a chair near the sofa where the other two are. “I made you some tea.”

Peter sits up and takes it from her. “Thanks…” he mumbles. He hates that he had to go to her for help. Well, technically he didn’t. Although, he would have much preferred it if it were just Abel. At least Abel doesn’t talk non stop…most of the time.

He blows on the tea before taking a sip. “It’s good.” He says, looking at the floor. Emily smiles, proud of herself. Unfortunately, she’s well known for being good at making tea, along with other beverages. Damn her and her kindness.

As he holds the mug, the steam coming off of it starts to loosen his congestion, which he is in part grateful for. On the other hand, his nose begins running. The sudden change from being able to breathe is nice, but it also makes his nose tickle. He rubs his nose on his sleeve, sniffling quietly.

“You good?” Abel notices his change in demeanor.

Peter puts the mug down on the table in front of him, still rubbing his nose. It does little to help the persistent tickle. “Dam’b it…n-not ag’aHh!! A-again..!”  Emily, knowing what is soon to happen, grabs the tissue box from the side table next to her and tosses it to Abel, who puts it between himself and Peter. “I’GHT-Xxt!! Nh’HT!!-eugh! g’Gh-TcheUh!! Nk’TKCh- FUCK!!” After some failed attempts at stifling, Peter brings his hands to the sides of his head, covering his ears. “Ow…”

Abel laughs. “You never learn your lesson, do you.” He pulls a few tissues from the box and gives them to Peter. “Be gentle,” he says, his tone of voice sounding as if he’s talking to a dog taking a treat. Peter glares at him but does as he’s instructed.

The angel groans, slamming his head down onto the coffee table in front of him. “Sombeo’de kill m’be.” Emily giggles at his theatrics. Abel simply pats his head. “You’ll be fine. You just need to sleep it off. Illness never lasts long in Heaven.” Abel leans back, crossing his arms.

Peter turns his head and glares at him. “If Heave’d is so perfect, the’d why does it happe’d in the first place?” He does have a point. Although Heaven is the ideal and perfect place to stay, that doesn’t mean that bad things never happen or that the citizens are immune to injury or illness.

Emily smiles gently. “It’s to protect ourselves. If Heaven made us untouchable, we’d have no reason to fear anything. It’s still important to use caution doing everyday things such as using the oven or handling sharp objects.”

Peter grumbles. “I guess. It still sucks though. I don’t know how humans survive on earth.”

Abel laughs. “You just learn and get used to it. Kind of like how I didn’t understand why Angels used silverware when they could just eat with their hands like we did in Eden.” 

“Exactly! I was horrified when I found out humans weren’t able to fly. They had to find some other way to reach something high up.” Emily looks a bit embarrassed at her confession. 

Abel smiles, his own wings fluttering. “Having wings is great. It makes a lot of things easier. I don’t have to risk falling out of trees and breaking my neck anymore. Not that I would need to climb a tree up here anyway.”

“You know, I was thinking about this the other day. We should really,” Abel turns to look at his friend only to find him dead asleep, face first on the table. Abel laughs. “I guess my dad making fun of him wore him out.”

Emily groans. “Again? Sera talked to him about that just last week.”

Abel smirks. “I know, but honestly, Peter always gives him the reaction he’s looking for. He’s kind of asking for it. Like when Peter hit him in the face with a snowball to try and make him go away. Dad returned the favor by collecting a bunch of the exorci…of his friends to pelt snow back at him.”

Emily sighs, although a small smile forces its way onto her face. “Still, he needs to leave Peter alone to do his job.” “It’s fine. He left soon after Peter sneezed on him. It’ll probably be a while before he starts up again.”

Emily stands up, straightening out her dress. “I hope Adam doesn’t get sick too. Lute turns feral when anything happens to him.” It’s true. Last time when Adam hurt his wing she chased someone with a dagger after they tried to help him. Most of the winners and even heaven borns know not to mess with the first man. “Don’t fuck with Adam. His lieutenant will rip you a new asshole!”

“Anyway, try and get Peter onto the sofa without waking him.” The young seraphim walks towards the door. “Hopefully he’ll be better by tomorrow.”

Abel waves goodbye to her. “Yeah, hopefully.” He turns to Peter and as carefully as possible transfers him from the coffee table back onto the sofa. Abel chuckles, watching him flop over like a sack of potatoes. He’s out cold.

Abel pulls out his phone and begins scrolling. He’ll be there for when Peter wakes up. He gets a notification from a group chat he’s in with his dad, Lute, and the other exorcists:

“We’re starting a petition to keep ppl who are sick away from Adam.”

“y”

“St. Fuckhole sneezed on Adam and now he’s quarantining himself since extermination day is soon.”

“Damn lol”

Viktor grimaced, “You would feel differently if I didn’t. I always sneeze too many times in a row, it is an…annoyance you don’t need to suffer through.”

”Vik, really. I think you’re being a little dramatic,” Jayce said giving Viktor’s thigh a squeeze, “I really wouldn’t mind.”

”Truly, it’s fine.” He wrinkled his nose and then dipped forward, shoulders bouncing with a fit of silent sneezes, 7 in total. He sniffled and gave his nose a rough rub with the first two knuckles of his hand. It was bad enough he could never sneeze just once, or even twice, at least he could stifle them into silence.

“Bless you, mi amor. It looks painful when you hold them in like that…” Jayce had the particular expression he wore when he wanted to fuss over Viktor. Viktor looked away, giving his nose a brief rub.

”It’s not painful,” he waffled on continuing but he’d promised he’d try to be more honest with Jayce about his symptoms and feelings. “It’s a bit tiring, perhaps.”

Jayce put a hand on his shoulder urging him to look back to his face, and meet his soft gaze. “Viktor, you don’t need to stifle around me. I promise I don’t mind.”

”I’ll consider it but it’s what I prefer.” It was certainly preferable to making a scene every time he had a tickle in his nose.

Jayce bit his lip and his knee bounced, showing a level of anxiety that seemed out of place in this conversation. Viktor turned his full attention to his partner.

“Jayce, is there something wrong? Does me stifling…bother you?” He asked trying to think of what could possibly be causing Jayce to react this way.

”It doesn’t bother me. And if it really makes you more comfortable then you shouldn’t feel pressured to do anything differently just because I want you to. So I don’t-“

Viktor grabbed Jayce’s hand in his and with his other he cradled his cheek cutting off his anxious rambling.

“It’s alright, moy lyubov (my love). I promise I will not feel pressured or offended no matter what you have to say. You can tell me whatever is going on in that beautiful mind of yours,” he said softly, thoughts consumed with wanting to help Jayce relax and forgetting his own embarrassment.

Jayce nuzzled into his hand, seeking comfort and Viktor offered it freely even if he was bewildered by what could be causing Jayce to be so nervous.

“Sorry, I…I’ve never told anyone and I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I know it’s…it’s a little weird.”

Viktor’s nose twinged and he huffed in irritation at the interruption when Jayce was already on edge. “Sorry, I need to…hhh’hh..sneeze…just a hah-moment…Hh-“ He turned his head towards his shoulder and stifled another fit of 5 sneezes into near silence except the last one slipped partially free. “Hh’GTXtchue…snfff…Pardon me.”

When he turned back to Jayce his face was flushed and he was staring blatantly at Viktor with his pupils slightly blown out.

“Will you still tell me, solnishko (sunshine)?” He asked softly hoping his interruption hadn’t given Jayce time to lose his courage.

“I, um, I have a, uh, sneezing fetish,” he said cheeks dark with embarassment and head ducked down not meeting Viktor’s eyes.

“Oh! So you would enjoy it if I didn’t stifle my sneezes?” Viktor said, tone a little sly. He would have never guessed that Jayce was hiding something like this.

”Yeah,” Jayce murmured softly back, looking at Viktor with adorable shyness.

”That is very cute, solnishko. I will try to remember not to stifle when we are alone then.”

”Cute?”

”Yes, enjoying sneezes seems very cute to me. It suits my adorable partner,” he teased with a soft smile. Jayce blushed to the tips of his ears and Viktor pressed a kiss to his warm cheek. Maybe he wouldn’t find his sneezing quite so embarrassing when Jayce was around anymore.

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