“Early start, I suppose. It’s good for the berries, though!” Alderwick made a point to add, looking over again from his book. If his husband was going to be going on about allergies, the little mouse feared he wasn’t going to get any productive reading done!

 “Very good!” He agreed, “those blackberries look as shiny as the cufflinks on my sleeves from over here. I’m certain the harvesters will find themselves a cheeky snack while they work, mm?”

“Wouldn’t hold it against them if they did!” And this spurred a wealthy-sounding laugh between the two. The laugh died away quickly for two reasons: Sprucethorn snorted and grunted with idle irritation, and Alderwick had gotten distracted by it.

“Hidd..! huhHh..?” His nostrils opened wide, tugging the rims thin with every flex. He relaxed with a sigh and a stray sniff. He was clearly either fighting a sneeze or trying to encourage one out—Alderwick couldn’t tell. “HUhhm…snRRFff…! Dear me…my hayfever is settling in for the afternoon, isn’t it? We’ve hardly opened a window and already my nose is making a right fuss. I get so tickly in the spring, it’s hardly fair…”

“It..! Ah, it…” Lord Alderwick stumbled horribly over each word that left his mouth, “ahem! It appears so. I’m terribly sorry spring is so harsh on you, my love.”

“Hah! I do believe you’re sorry for other reasons, mm? Something catch your eye?”

The mouse hardly had a moment to react to his husband’s sudden antics. Sprucethorn had begun sniffing at the stacked encyclopedia Alderwick and his armchair were sat upon, a remarkably teasing look in his eyes. Each breath was strong and sharp, especially as his nose approached him. A singular nostril was wider than his whole head at rest; not to mention when it flexed and flared. When it did, it was easily able to stretch almost as wide as he was tall. He felt waves of embarrassment rush through him as the nose rudely pressed him back in his tiny armchair.

“Oh—! Oh my!” Alderwick exclaimed, lifting his arms to get a better holding against his nose. He swore he was bright red in the cheeks through his fur! “Sprucethorn you—! You brute! Heavens!”

A single sharp huff sent the chair falling onto its back with Alderwick along for the ride. He curled his tail in on himself, and his body trembling with humiliation and surprise. He then fell slack, laying quiet with his eyes fluttering shut. When he saw this, the bear’s ears pricked at attention. His husband had just fainted, or rather, fallen into a sleeping spell. Old Sprucethorn could smell it coming on anyhow: his husband’s narcolepsy. “Are you alright, dear?”

As if the words themselves breathed life into his fur, Alderwick stretched his arms and surveyed the air with his whiskers. He blinked up and him, and in a rush, remembered his predicament. By that point though, the bear’s nose had considerably receded from its vicinity.

“Ah, heavens, my heart…” he huffed, clasping the front of his little chest. “You know I faint when you get my heart going..!!” Which, to be clear, wasn’t exactly false—though, the nature of narcolepsy was only a recent study in the world.

 “But you’re quite alright…I’ve never let that little heart of yours run away from me, have I?” He encouraged, only to receive a wagging finger from his husband.

“Not yet you haven’t, Oliver, but at this rate—!”

“Alright, alright, I hear you, Balfour…” he waved his paw at him. A long claw set his armchair right, and Alderwick practically melted from it onto his feet. As he shook himself out, he looked up worriedly at his husband. He was still sniffing at the air irritably, yet a sneeze hadn’t escaped him. It must have been his latter assessment—Sprucethorn was fighting with a stuck sneeze.

“Oh, Sprucethorn, I do want to try to be more intimate, my love,” he was stirring up the same rambling again, and Sprucethorn chuffed fondly at the mouse’s squeaks, “I just don’t want to frighten you..! All my fainting spells, I just don’t want you fretting that I’ve up and died!”

“Please, you’re a tough mouse, Alderwick! You act as though you were a cricket!”

“I’m a tough mouse, but I’m all sorts of delicate too!” He balled his little fists at his sides. Sprucethorn adjusted his monocle to look at him closer, eyes soft with his attentive listening. “Oh dear, I’m just bickering to bicker, I fret. You’ve just got me riled up…”

“Give it a go, aye?”

“What?”

Sprucethorn scrunched his nose, sniffing and huffing away at whatever was irritating him. “Give it a go, being closer. I won’t rush you into it this time. Maybe that’s what’s been getting your little chest racing.”

Sprucethorn did make a point, as surprising as it was for Alderwick to reckon with. The only times Sprucethorn had interacted with his…infatuation for noses was always in some big tease that made Alderwick lightheaded with embarrassment. He had always chalked it up to being barred from intimacy altogether with his condition—never once had they deviated from the method, though.

“I don’t believe you’re rushing me into it, Oliver, I..!”

“Well, I believe I am. I ought to see how it’s like for you to come to me on your own terms.”

Something about the invitation sparked some excitement in the little mouse, and he nodded in understanding. “Right then, I’m willing to give it a go.”

It took almost thirty minutes. Alderwick insisted the two go into the drawing room for some privacy. One of their servants had just been through here, he could smell a lingering trace of rabbit from the adjacent door. A window was left ajar, and with a mutter, Sprucethorn closed it and drew the curtains shut. That must’ve been the cause of his itchiness, this one neglected window hovering above the garden.

Alderwick was set down on the giant chess table, standing no taller than a bishop. While Alderwick did everything in his power to stall for time and cool his nerves, Sprucethorn took a seat and procured a thick handkerchief.

“Pardon..! HhhHUHh!” He gasped, and he sighed, “bother…snf! I need to s—! SnEhh..! Huh…snf! My hayfever is really getting up my nose, it has me in tears..!”

“Poor thing…here, come closer. I’ll give it a look.”

Sprucethorn for once was the one looking a bit flushed, lowering his chin to the table. He watched his husband creep closer to his flaring nostrils, before disappearing out of his line of sight. He sniffed curiously, blinking as he felt Alderwick stagger and bump into his septum with a small grunt of surprise. Tiny hands felt around at it, and he peeked up above his nose to look Sprucethorn in the eyes.

“Sorry dear… It’s a brutish thing, this nose is,” Sprucethorn admitted with a small chuckle “I fret it’s a bit too big sometimes!”

“You’ve got a massive nose, darling, and it’s perfect.” Alderwick set his chin on top of the bear’s nose. Sprucethorn found himself blushing at the compliment. He always found his husband’s obsession with noses endearing and silly, but this encounter made him realize that he was missing out on so much from him merely being a tease. Now that Alderwick had the space to be unapologetic and confident about it, he was charming him. He couldn’t help his yearning for praise, and Alderwick knew how to tap into it.

“Dear me, this is the closest I’ve been to your nose, I think…!” He stated breathlessly.

“I can tell, I can smell the excitement on you.”

Alderwick carefully extended his tiny paw into his left nostril, pressing his fingertips in the soft inner flesh. His long whiskers gently tickled the rim of his nostril, too. In response, the bear’s breath shuddered and hitched.

“Do be careful, my n-nUH..! Hh-!! It’s just a h-hah!! A hhhair testy—hess—heEh…!” He stammered, flaring his nostrils hugely.

“So I’ve heard..! Maybe I’ve misunderstood the delicate one between us.”

Both hands reached into his nostrils now, hugging his septum as his fingers danced along the sensitive walls. Sprucethorn hitched more desperately, clearly swept up in the irritation. Each breath made Alderwick’s fur blast backward, and the stray sniffles between his hitches threatened to pull him off his feet.

“Let’s get this pesky sneeze out, you’ve been struggling with it all day..!” Alderwick suddenly declared. Sprucethorn blinked in surprise as Alderwick leaned into his right nostril, reaching his tiny paws as far as he could to tickle at the inner flesh. He curled his fingers as if playing the piano, running scales up and down the trembling tissues. He had to hold onto his nose when Sprucethorn sniffed and snuffled, and his ears flapped in the turbulent wind.

“Alderw—wuH..! Balfour, you’re going to m-mUHh! Make m-mUHHhh-hHUH!”

Alderwick scrambled backwards to get himself out, with Sprucethorn’s assistance, who pinched him by the tail and lifted him up and out of his nose. Alderwick watched transfixed as his nostrils flared and flexed in front of them, clearly ticklish from his invasive endeavor. He could see deep into them as the sun hit them just right, watching the glistening walls tremble with need. At last, the view was cut short as he brought his handkerchief over his nose.

“H-hhHUHh! hUURRSSCHhh—uuw!! h-hHURRSSCHHh—uuw!!” Two great sneezes were muffled into the handkerchief and he sighed shortly thereafter. “Uhf..! Snff! My goodness, please excuse me…snf!! That was quite a tickle, I could hardly speak…”

“Bless you, Sprucethorn..! I’ve always liked the sound of your sneezes…”

“I figured, you were eager to pry one out of me yourself, aye?”

“Couldn’t help myself with the opportunity—hey!! Now—see here!”

A set of strong, thick sniffles caused Alderwick to swing and teeter by his tail, being drawn closer and closer to his flaring nostrils. He had to rush his hands towards his pockets so that things wouldn’t go falling out!

“It’s a good thing I got you out of there, I’d hate to have you between my nose and a handkerchief…” which was something he had heard Alderwick lull on about in his my lovestruck ramblings. Alderwick covered his reddening face, squeaking in defiance.

“Oh, stop it! You’re going to get my heart going again, Oliver!”

“Alright..! Alright! You know I wouldn’t dare, those clothes are fine work! …Lest you asked it of me, of course!”