women sneezing. that's it, that's the blog.

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The car came to a sudden stop, rousing Agatha just enough for her to become aware of the tears in her eyes, the seatbelt tight across her chest, and a growing desire to sneeze. The unexpected presence of a sweet, slightly herby smell (anise, or was it caraway?) didn’t seem to be helping. She clung stubbornly to sleep, reluctant to face the sickness and stress that awaited her on the other side. But then she could sense that Rio was waiting there, too — the real flesh and blood version, not the memory masquerading as a dream — and that made her feel like rejoining the land of the conscious might be worth the discomfort.

She smiled at the light pressure and gentle heat of a hand coming to rest on her thigh. A thumb stroked her leg as she sniffled reflexively, with no regard for what mayhem the action might provoke. When the tickle sharpened to a stinging pinprick she gasped, holding the breath hostage for a beat. Topping off with a shaky inhale, she succumbed to a pair of sneezes that doused the dashboard.

“hHHihyhHSHhh—hh’ihTSCHHhh!-ue…” She sniffled and sighed with relief, turning to press her cheek into a fresh cold section of the window. “Mmm…”

“Bless you, sweetness,” Rio said, giving her leg a squeeze. “You slept the whole ride home... I think all that sneezing wiped you out.”

The honeyed blessing filled Agatha’s heart with a bubbly giddiness like champagne. She couldn’t help but chuckle as she glanced over at Rio, even as her breath fluttered in the clutches of a competing reflex. “Sweet” was not a word used to describe Agatha Harkness in any world but Rio’s.

“How are you feeling?” she asked. Agatha furrowed her brow and lifted a hand, a wordless request to wait that doubled as a half-hearted attempt to cover her next sneeze.

“h’hHeh!” She teetered on the cusp, fanning her hand slightly before sneezing towards it. “hH’ihHZSHHhiew! F-huhh’ck…”

“That bad, huh?” Rio gave her leg another squeeze as she lingered in pre-sneeze territory, fingers twitching and eyebrows raised expectantly. After a moment the tickle faded, drawing a groan from her lips and a giggle from Rio. “Bless you.”

“Thangks.” Agatha moved her hand away hesitantly before wiping it against her jeans, taking a moment to check in with her body. “I actually feel… kide of okay?”

Given her state these last few days, “kind of okay” was a huge step up. It was also extremely subject to change, as she had to re-learn every time she got sick. She woke up from this last nap feeling somewhat rejuvenated, while the two that preceded it had only left her feeling more exhausted. Her symptoms remained as present and burdensome as ever — her throat still inflamed, her sinuses tender, a wall of congestion and a tickle that didn’t feel like they were going away anytime soon — but she had more energy now, and that made a world of difference.

“I hope that means your appetite’s back,” Rio said. “Wanda made a ton of soup.”

“She…” Agatha stared at her for a moment, still a little foggy. “Soup?”

With a hint of a smirk, Rio gestured towards her feet. Agatha glanced down at the huge, red-lidded Tupperware nestled between her boots. So that’s what Wanda had sprinted out of the house in her slippers to deliver to them before they drove away, nearly giving Agatha a heart attack in the process. Her first thought was that something had happened to Nicky, but Wanda was calm and smiling, if not a little out of breath, by the time she intercepted Rio outside of the car. Agatha recalled watching them through the window as what should have been a quick exchange turned into a two-minute conversation. Part of her had wondered if they were talking about her, but a bigger part of her — the part riddled with illness, exhaustion, and a rapidly growing apathy — simply didn’t give enough of a fuck to find out.

By the time Rio had gotten into the car, Agatha was snoring, her cheek pressed against the glass. Apparently she stayed that way, sleeping through the chaos of traffic, until they arrived at their parking garage.

“You must have put on quite the show when you ran into her today,” Rio said with an odd little smile.

This time her jealousy sounded teasing, playful — it was as if something had shifted in her since conversing with Wanda, loosening up some tension that had built up between them. It felt like their marriage had clawed its way up through six feet of dirt to take a breath of fresh air.

“She told me she doubled up on the ingredients after she saw you,” Rio continued. “So she could make some extra pretz… pretzanka…?”

“Prežganka,” Agatha corrected hoarsely, surprised she could still remember what it was called. It wasn’t something Wanda would make very often — in fact, the only time she recalled eating it was when someone in the house wasn’t feeling well. And with the stress and long nights that defined her life at the time, Agatha was usually that someone.

“Salud,” Rio joked, donning an unapologetic smirk when Agatha shot her a look. “Whatever it’s called, it smells delicious. And she said it’s for the both of us, so you have to share.”

“Fide with mbe,” Agatha said, waving her hand dismissively. “That stuff is so filli’g, I doubt we’ll evind fiddish it all.”

“Well, I plan on having the munchies later,” Rio said, before her face lit up with an idea. “We should get stoned and eat it in bed.”

“So you cand spill it all over our sheets? A tebpti’g offer, but ndo.” Agatha trailed two fingernails along the inside of Rio’s arm, lowering her voice seductively. “But there is wud thig I dote bind you eati’g id bed…”

She hated that she sounded so congested and that her voice seemed to crack on every other word, but Rio visibly lit up, her lizard brain reacting to the request before the more logical parts could catch up. There was no doubt in Agatha’s mind that she was very much interested, but when Rio rested a hand against her cheek with a wan smile, Agatha knew she wasn’t going to be thrilled with what she was about to say.

“Before we do anything, I think we need to take your temperature,” she suggested gently. Agatha silently willed the heat to stop emanating so intensely from her body, to no avail. “Maybe a shower and a quick Vicks session to clear out those sinuses, then go from there. What do you say?”

Allowing Rio to apply Vicks Vaporub to her chest and feet was the closest Agatha ever came to taking cold medicine in her adult life. She would have still put up more of a fight — while the stuff did work wonders, it set her nose ablaze for an indeterminate amount of time — but she was so desperate to be touched she found herself nodding in agreement just to keep things moving in what she could only hope was the right direction. At this point she would let Rio slather her in hot sauce and gasoline if that was what it would take to get her hands on her body before midnight.

When Agatha opened her mouth to respond her breath stuttered, her sinuses tingling with olfactory memories of menthol. She lifted a fist to rub at her nose, but only got as far as applying pressure to the tip before dropping her hand. Simply touching it sent what felt like a jolt of electricity racing up along the bridge; it fizzed and sparked like the tail end of a firework when it reached her sinuses. Agatha crinkled her nose like a rabbit in a last-ditch effort to chase it away, her lips pursed with fading determination. They parted as she stole a breath, then another, an urgently drawn gasp fraught with desperation. Just when she accepted her fate, the preparatory breaths that had filled her lungs suddenly forgot their marching orders — another failure to launch. It was her body’s favorite trick to play on her whenever she had a cold, and a huge part of why being sick was so frustrating, but Rio loved it, the fucking brat.

“Bless…?” She laughed as Agatha exhaled and gave her scathing but pitiful look. “Oops! Guess I spoke too soon.”

Not ready to accept defeat, Agatha pressed her hand against her nose the same way as before, hoping to nudge the lost sneeze back into existence. This time it didn’t trigger as strong of a reaction, just a faint itch that pulsed gently in the background, like the flashing light of a fire alarm at the edge of her vision. Fixing Rio in her watery gaze, she clawed some tissue shreds out of her pocket to wipe at her dripping nose.

“If you’re a good girl,” she said, pausing to sniffle heavily, “I’ll let you help mbe get that out later.”

Rio practically malfunctioned, still and silent as a stone while she watched Agatha blow her nose. After checking in with Wanda they headed out for a quick walk through the cold to their apartment. Agatha agreed to take half of one of the fast-acting gummies Rio had stashed in an old prescription bottle in her pocket — and for her, that was plenty. Their hands bumped together as they walked, their fingers eventually twining together, bodies drifting closer. Every so often Rio would slow down, squeezing Agatha’s hand or giving it a little tug, a silent request to match her pace as her gaze flickered towards the overhead lights. Her eyes would lose focus before fluttering shut, scrunching tighter as she sent a barrage of spraying sneezes down between them.

“ATCHH!-huh… hh’hAESHhh—EHSHhh!-uh… huhhHH’ATSCHh!”

Her outbursts echoed cacophonously throughout the parking garage, so loud Agatha feared she might actually set off some car alarms. A group of people dressed up to go out were exiting the structure as they got closer to the doors. One or two of them glanced their way as Rio stumbled against her escort with the force of each sneeze, but the rest minded their own business. A wise choice, as far as Agatha was concerned.

Relieving Rio of the container, she checked it for leaks — its contents had been sloshing around pretty violently — but the only thing leaking at the moment was Rio. Fishing what she hoped were clean tissues from her pocket, Agatha passed them over just in time for her to catch another jarring sneeze.

“ASCHHh’oo!—ahh, fuck, I—hih!—m’b sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She wrapped a protective arm around Rio, kissing the top of her head as she slumped against her. “You have ndothi’g to be sorry about.”

The fit continued as they spilled out onto the sidewalk, then in the foyer, and finally in the hallway, drawing the ire of a couple neighbors. Agatha found their reactions irritating; not only could Rio not help it, but it was New Year’s Eve, one of the loudest nights of the year. With the fireworks and rowdy crowds in the streets just outside, a few (admittedly ear-shattering) sneezes in the hallway should have been the least of their concerns. The only thing stopping Agatha from having fighting words with the mouthy neighbor four doors down was the fact that the woman was hard of hearing — go figure — and Agatha didn’t want to waste what little voice she had getting into a pointless shouting match. Rio grabbed her gently by the wrist, her other hand curled around her nose as she fought to keep her expression steady.

“Cálmbate.”

“I amb calmb,” Agatha insisted, pulling her arm back. The fact that Rio was advising a retreat and not stepping up beside her to lambast the old biddy between sneezes was a sobering reminder that they weren’t anywhere close to being at their best.

She could tell Rio was using all of her energy just to keep herself together, only falling apart once they reached the safety of their front door. As Agatha fiddled with the keys Rio rubbed her nose, her expression warping with itchy desperation. Dropping her hand, she twisted to the side and sneezed down towards the floor.

“ASHHh’ue! huh…h-ATCHh! ATSHHh’u!”

“Are you allergic to the hallway or subthing?” Agatha watched Rio build up to another sneeze, eyes wide. “Jesus, bless—”

“EHh’ATSCHhh’oo!”

“—bless you.”

“Fucki’g fuck fuck fuck,” she exclaimed, succumbing to a full-bodied shiver as she leaned into Agatha. She sniffled against her bare hands as Agatha wondered what happened to the tissues she had given her.

“Sounds like you ndeed to joind mbe for a steamb.”

“Well thend, wh-huhh’t are we waiti’g f-for?” Rio asked, dropping her hands and raising an eyebrow. It was the only part of her face she seemed to have any control over at the moment, and the other brow soon joined it, the rest of her expression going slack as her mouth fell open. “hhH’h’HHhiih—AHSHH’u! ATCHh’iu! hih-AESHHh’oo!”

“You, mby love. Salud.” Agatha ushered her through the front door with a sweeping gesture. “Now ándale.”

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While Rio ran the bath, Agatha played Tetris with the Tupperware and the contents of the fridge. The smell of the soup bypassed her congestion, evoking a gut-wrenching wave of nostalgia. The first time Wanda ever made it for her was when Agatha got sick about two or three months into… whatever it was that they were at the time, if they were even enough of anything to properly label. She had gone almost two days without eating, a habit that had become increasingly more common with Nicky in the hospital, except this time, being stuck home sick herself, it was harder to hide. Though she could barely smell or taste it, the prežganka had been warm and soothing on her throat. It was embarrassing how quickly she had scarfed it down — almost as embarrassing as failing to tend to her basic needs in the first place. All she could remember from afterwards was crying as Wanda’s nimble fingers worked through the knots in her hair, her gentle words and the lingering warmth of the food she made easing the knots in Agatha’s soul. She remembered thinking it must have been some sort of witchcraft, right before passing out for nearly ten hours straight. She slept hard, waking up the next morning with crazy hair and an ever crazier thirst, but feeling infinitely better.

The whole time Wanda had played with her hair, Agatha imagined it was Rio. She never told either of them about it — in fact, she never told Rio much of anything about her time with Wanda, which, now that she was thinking about it, was probably part of the problem. Her imagination was far too vivid to leave anything to its mercy, and with little to go on besides Nicky’s unsolicited comments, which were based on his extremely limited perspective of the months they spent together, Rio had to piece the rest together on her own. Agatha was not privy to the image of Wanda she had concocted in her mind — how could she be, when they never talked about it? When Agatha wasn’t sure she would have even welcomed the conversation, if Rio had ever dared to initiate it?

Part of her told her they didn’t necessarily have to talk about any of it to finally get some closure — look at how they were back on track already! — but deep down she knew they would have to discuss it eventually.

“HAHhd’CHh! hehh—EHhh’TCHH!-uhh…”

Just maybe not tonight.

Rio was still sneezing, plagued by an especially stubborn tickle. By Agatha’s count, which had only started when they got into the apartment, she was well past twenty sneezes by now. Each one was loud enough to be heard over the running water, a reminder to Agatha that she had somewhere else to be besides stuck in her own thoughts.

Shoving the refrigerator doors shut, she checked her phone again — no news was good news, though she sent a quick text to Wanda requesting proof of life — before heading towards the bathroom. Steam curled through the slightly open door in wispy tendrils, giving her the impression that she was standing at the portal to some otherworldly place. Pushing the door open, she stepped into the milky haze and was smacked with a wall of damp, heavy heat. Her heart thudded in her chest, the rubbery marshmallow of a bass pedal pounding against the drum of her ribcage.

The first thing she saw was Rio, shrouded in steam and nothing else, her body wracked with tiny shivers as she drove the peak of one knuckle into her right nostril. Even though she was squinting vaguely in her direction, she didn’t seem to fully register that Agatha was standing there. Her reddened nostrils twitched, her mouth opening wider as she drew the steamy air into her lungs. Her tongue slid forward a bit to rest against the glistening pillow of her bottom lip, pulsing slightly in a way that made Agatha’s cunt twitch with need.

“huh-huhh!” Shaking her head, Rio sneezed against the back of her hand, dousing her knuckles in three separate bursts. It didn’t seem to be a conscious effort to cover so much as pure coincidence that her hand happened to be directly in the line of fire. “AESHHh’ue—ATCHhh! huh’ASHHh-oo!”

There was a brief reprieve from the sneezing, but maybe not from the tickle causing it. Her expression remained unchanged, just as tense and irritated as before, if not more so. As Rio lifted her gaze to the overhead light Agatha found her own eyes drifting down to her tits, then lower as the defined lines of her abdomen smoothed out on the next long inhale.

“hihHHHH! — ASHHHhu!” This time she sneezed straight down the length of her body, her breasts bouncing slightly as they took the misty brunt of each eruption. “EHSCHHh’oo! AESHhh’oo!”

Even through the haze of steam Agatha could see the slight smile on her face and the way her nipples hardened from the light stimulation. It was obvious that she was enjoying herself — and, oddly enough, so was Agatha. Sometimes it was easy to see how Rio could find sneezing so appealing, both as a participant and as an observer.

“Whew, bless mbe,” Rio exclaimed, wiping the sheen of congestion from her upper lip. She thumbed absently at a stiffening nipple with her other hand, looking quite pleased with herself when she caught Agatha watching her in a state of speechlessness. “Oh, hey babe. I was testi’g out the steab for you. It, uh… deffiditly works.”

“I cand see that,” Agatha said, her mouth suddenly dry despite the humid air.

It took the mental equivalent of a crowbar to pry her attention away from Rio so she could go look for a hair tie. While she piled her hair in a messy bun Rio grabbed some toilet paper to blow her nose, snubbing the stack of handkerchiefs that sat on the counter. Agatha placed her phone face up beside the pile and got undressed, stopping halfway through taking her sweater off to partially stifle a pair of sneezes against the fabric. Sniffling back congestion, she glanced up at Rio and found her watching with a patient but hungry look in her eyes. It was a look that made Agatha shimmy out of her jeans and underwear in record time. As soon as the last garment hit the floor Rio swept back the shower curtain and held out her hand, an attendant offering to help a noblewoman into her carriage.

“Mb’lady.”

Kicking her discarded clothing aside, Agatha stepped into the tub without her help. Rio scoffed at the slight, a sound that segued into surprised laughter when Agatha grabbed her hand to pull her in behind her. When the laughter turned to coughing Agatha held her steady, placing one hand on her hip and taking her hand with the other. She rubbed soothing strokes along her knuckles, which still felt a little wet from where she had sneezed against them earlier.

Once Rio finished coughing and caught her breath, Agatha asked “Big spoon or little spoon?”

Sniffling, Rio gave her an uncharacteristically sheepish look that told her everything she needed to know. Agatha tucked some hair behind her ear, though it wasn’t particularly in the way — she just wanted an excuse to touch her — and gave her a smile of understanding. Lowering herself into the water, she reached up for Rio, who followed suit with a lack of confidence that suggested she wasn’t feeling very steady on her feet. Settling between her legs, Rio leaned back into her embrace with a contented sigh and an air of relief. They soaked in relative silence, Agatha with her arms wrapped around Rio, Rio scratching them lightly with her fingernails, the both of them taking turns sniffling and clearing their throats. As horny as Agatha was, she was also feeling like a pile of refried garbage, so it was nice to just sit and relax in the hot water for a bit.

Closing her eyes, Agatha imagined that, instead of garbage, she was the warm caramel coating spreading across a candy apple. The edible was definitely kicking in — she felt as fluid as the bath water leeching the winter chill from her bones. Her nose was running in earnest now, the sensation eliciting a faint tickle that pestered her like the droning of an elusive mosquito.

After a moment Rio shifted between her legs, displacing some of the water as she leaned forward. She let out a little grunt of effort, like she was reaching for something, and Agatha opened an eye just in time to see her settling back against her chest with a wiggle. She resumed trailing one hand lazily across Agatha’s arms, peering at her upside-down with a glazed but knowing expression. Her other hand hung over the edge of the bathtub, clutching something out of sight.

“How’s it going?” Rio asked, smiling when she noticed the dribble of mess on Agatha’s upper lip. “Do you feel it working?”

“The pot or the s-steeamb, because… hh! - h-hold od, I — hh’hHiih!” The little tickle wasn’t so little anymore, the sensation swelling so suddenly she didn’t have time to properly announce it, let alone turn away or cover. “hyISHHhh!-uu…”

She opened her eyes slowly, afraid of what she might find, but Rio had come to the rescue, holding a handkerchief an inch or two from her face to contain the blast. Agatha felt her breath falter a few times before softening into a steadier rhythm, the tension draining from her features. Something flipped the breakers in her internal fuse box, restoring power to her arms. Commandeering the handkerchief, she balled it up and used it to scrub at her nose.

Intrigued, Rio turned and rose from the water like some Lovecraftian sea creature, her hair floating around her in dark tendrils. Agatha could feel her watching her as she rubbed up and down her nose, from the tip to mid-bridge and back down again, as if trying to erase the freckles that dotted the skin there.

“Just the wund?” Rio asked, raising her eyebrows as Agatha seemed to aggravate a nerve. She shook her head and inhaled with audible desperation, the tickle crackling along the bridge of her nose like a lit fuse. “Oh, are you—?”

“ihhH’YSHHhhoo!” Agatha sneezed violently into the drenched ball of fabric, eyes scrunched shut so tightly that it squeezed tears from the corners. A wrenching gasp dragged her back in like a retreating tide, the sound ringing off the tiles of the small bathroom. “hihh-IHGSHHHhiew! IHZSHHhoo!”

“Bless you… bless y—bless you!” Each subsequent outburst seemed to surprise Rio. It looked like she was waiting to see if there would be more, but Agatha only sighed wearily before blowing her nose. She felt her face growing hotter as Rio gave her leg an encouraging squeeze. “There you go, mby love. Get it all out.”

“Why?” she asked cynically, sniffling and re-folding the handkerchief so she could blot her nostrils with a drier section. “It just cubs right back. Ndo batter how buch I blow, there’s always mbore to take its place, I’be so sih-hihhh’ck of it — goddambiiht!” Crushing her nose against the fabric, Agatha muffled two more congested sneezes into the handkerchief — “hiHYGSHHh’oo! ih’dZSHhh’u!” — before coughing productively. The steam was doing its job, but she wasn’t particularly thrilled about it.

“Well, you’re defidditely sick,” Rio said, earning herself a watery-eyed glare.

“Ndo kidding,” Agatha said bitterly. “And whose fault is that?”

“Pretty sure we’ve already established that it’s mbide,” Rio said, swirling a finger through the water. There was a kernel of amusement in her otherwise guilty tone that made Agatha narrow her eyes. “If it’s eddy condsolationd, I’mb really sorry.”

“Oh, stop, you are ndot,” she snapped, her voice cracking mid-sentence. Agatha cleared her throat before continuing, keeping pressure on the handkerchief as if stanching a wound. “You agtually have the audacity to get off to mby sufferi’g. Mby mbisery. Why couldn’t you have been into sumbthig we both endjoy?”

“Sometimbes I think you do endjoy this,” Rio said with a sly little smile. And then, as Agatha stammered in an effort to cobble together a coherent response, she added a quick “Bless you, by the way.”

There was a casual tenderness to the delayed blessing that threw her off kilter again. Choosing not to address the other comment, Agatha murmured a barely perceptible "thangk you” before blowing her nose. She whimpered with disgust at the sensation of the handkerchief reaching its limit in her hands, but at the moment she had no other options.

When she opened her eyes, Rio was smirking and holding out a clean cloth to replace the current, now useless one drooping in her hands.

“What are you, a mbagiciond?” she asked, snapping up the offering. Even though she had just removed what felt like a pint of mucus from her head, she was frustrated to find she still felt and sounded just as congested as before.

“Mbore like a wizard,” Rio said, before reconsidering. “Or a witch.”

“You’re certaindly wicked edough.”

“That would be you, mby dear,” Rio said, her smirk softening into something more affectionate than smug. “Wonderfully wicked…”

She stroked her fingernails along Agatha’s jawline, down the length of her neck, across the ledge of her collarbone. Her hand crept slowly, giving Agatha plenty of time to protest if she were so inclined, but she merely watched, her breaths becoming shallower as her face flushed with more than fever. Pleasure sparked across her skin everywhere Rio touched, gathering and growing until it bubbled out of her in a raspy moan. Rio was just starting to trace the curve of her right breast when Agatha shivered, her gaze shifting out of focus. The hand with the handkerchief drifted towards her face as her chest rose and fell with slow, uncertain breaths.

“Againd?” Rio remarked in disbelief, watching raptly as the sneeze laid siege to her expression. “Mby love, you’re indsatiable.”

“I’be dot insatiable, I’be sihh… h’ihhHH—!” Her breath gave a violent hitch, her brow crumpling with irritation as she fought doggedly to get the last word out. “—s-sihhck - h’ihDZSHHhyu!”

“Bless you!” Rio exclaimed. “Maybe you should focus less od the comebacks and more od getting that ndose of yours to relax?”

Agatha waved her handkerchief impatiently, a silent command to be quiet so she could concentrate. The next sneeze was not as eager to emerge as its predecessor, but she refused to let it slip away that easily. She closed her eyes and panted softly, making the occasional vocal “heh!” or “ahh!” of encouragement that never turned into anything more. It wasn’t until Rio asked “Stuck again?” that the tickle finally backed off, but not before one last fizzing surge, sharp and fleeting, like carbonation striking the tongue. It made her nose crinkle as she dabbed at it with a series of watery sniffles.

“Fuck,” she sighed, annoyed that the second sneeze did, in fact, slip away that easily.

“Oh, mby love,” Rio crooned affectionately. “I wonder if…” She stopped suddenly, her eyes going wide. “Whoa.”

“What?” Agatha paused mid-dab, looking slightly alarmed as her nostrils flickered against the dampening fabric. “What’s wrong?”

“Either you fucked up your blood vessels with all that sneezi’g…” Rio peered into her soul through her dilated pupils for what felt like a very long time. “… or your candabindoid receptors are getting hambered. Your eyes look crazy.”

“Yeah, well, you should take a look ind the mbirror,” Agatha said. Rio’s eyes were wilder than usual, the blood vessels fuzzy and pink like Seussian tree branches. “Is that what you interrupted mby sndeeze to tell mbe?”

“Your sneeze interrupted itself, and I… uh… huh.” Rio sat looking dumbfounded for a moment. “I actually forgot what I was going to say.”

“Pity.”

The thought never returned. Neither did the sneeze, but while they finished soaking and rinsing off Agatha suffered three more failed attempts to bring it to fruition. The only thing more annoying than losing it over and over and over again like she was stuck in the world’s lamest time loop was watching Rio sneeze so effortlessly. Within seconds of turning on the showerhead she was struck with what sounded like a very tickly fit. Bracing one hand against the tiled wall, she brought the other to hover vaguely in front of her face, loosely covering each blast. Most of the spray made it through and around the ineffective barrier, mingling indistinguishably with the water from the showerhead. Halfway through the attack Agatha reached out to hold her by her hips, nervous that she might knock herself right off her feet.

“Bless you,” she offered, when Rio finally stopped sneezing long enough to take a few uninterrupted breaths. “Better?”

“I thigk so…” She exhaled heavily, giving her nose a few squishy-sounding rubs with the base of her thumb. “Fuck mbe…”

“That’s the pland, if we ever get to it.”

Rio gave Agatha a coy look as she dried herself off. Grabbing a handkerchief, she filled it with as much congestion as she could expel in a single blow. Agatha was relieved to see her finally allowing herself the same basic comforts she so lovingly forced upon her. She tried not to envy her clearer breathing, though it was hard not to when it felt like her own sinuses were packed with slow-drying cement. The steam had helped to loosen things up for a decent stretch of time, but her immune system was unrelenting, responding more quickly than Agatha could clear her body of its efforts.

Stepping out of the tub, she spotted her phone and wondered with a start how Nicky was doing. Shit, when did she last check in? Her mind convinced her it had been an unacceptable length of time. Guilt compounded in her throat as she hurried to the sink, naked and dripping, to claw at her phone. Rio, who hadn’t made any effort to keep her hair out of the water, stopped in the middle of towel-drying it to watch.

“What’s up?” she asked, a dribble of fluid escaping her nose as she tilted her head to the side. She swiped it away quickly before sniffling, reflexes still sharp despite the high that made her eyes look like two caramel flans. “Everything good with Ndicky?”

“I’mb checking on himb ndow.”

Agatha was relieved to find no missed calls, though there were two texts from Wanda, sent nearly five minutes ago. One was a photo of the boys on the couch holding mugs of hot cocoa topped with whipped cream, candy cane bits, and miniature marshmallows. The other was a text message that said

Agatha snorted, bringing a curved index finger to her nose as a precaution when she felt the congestion shifting. She considered turning the phone to show Rio, but she was too busy digging erratically through the medicine cabinet. A bottle of Advil swan dived from the top shelf, landing in the sink with a dramatic rattle as Rio grabbed for the Vicks Vaporub. It was odd to see her fumbling — she knew that medicine cabinet like the back of her hand. When her fingers finally closed around the familiar blue jar Agatha groaned, nose crinkling already.

“Do we have to?” she whined, putting her phone down to dry off.

“Are your ears clogged?” Rio sounded more curious than sarcastic as she returned the fallen pill bottle to its perch. “I feel like if you could hear yourself, you wouldn’t be asking me that question.”

“I cad hear just fide, thagks.”

After half-heartedly slathering some lotion over her skin, Agatha slipped into her bathrobe so she wouldn’t have to go through the effort of getting dressed. The fabric brushed against her prickling skin before settling over her shoulders, its unusual heaviness exacerbating the ache that had taken up residence in her muscles. She removed the elastic tie from her ponytail and gave her hair a quick comb-through with her fingers, not ready to deal with the sensory nightmare of brushing it out fully just yet.

Agatha grabbed one of the handkerchiefs Rio had laid out and attempted a squeaky, ineffective blow. The only thing it accomplished, besides pissing her off, was making her sneeze again. She quietly smothered two back-to-back sneezes and let out a shaky sigh, eyes darting to Rio to check for her reaction. Apparently she was too busy to notice, hastily rearranging the contents of the medicine cabinet with one hand as she clutched the Vicks Vaporub in the other. When she finished she threw the cabinet door shut, knocking something else off the inner shelf in the process. She and Agatha looked at each other before silently agreeing to just leave it be for now.

“Are you sure we cad’t just skip all that and get straight to fucki’g?” she asked, eliciting a barking laugh from Rio as she turned to face her, brandishing the ointment. “If we play our cards right, we mbight evend have tibe for a ndap afterwards.”

“A nap?” Rio’s tone was incredulous in a way that Agatha did not appreciate. “I think we need to do something about all of…” She gestured vaguely towards her nose, which Agatha appreciated even less. “… that first, or you might choke to death in your sleep.”

“Well, you of all people should kndow that orgasibs are a ndatural decod—”

“Patience, my love,” Rio said. “There is a process.”

Agatha grumbled, but ultimately she acquiesced. She didn’t have the strength to put up a fight — standing upright for just a few minutes seemed to have drained her of what remained of her energy. After Rio forced her to drink some tap water from a little paper cup (“Why? So mby body can turnd it indto mbore mbucus?”), she allowed herself to be herded into the bedroom. Rio could have been leading her to the literal slaughter and Agatha would not have cared in the slightest. At this point, death would have been a welcome surprise.

They set up on the bed, but not before turning down the lights — sometimes, when Agatha wasn’t feeling well, they seemed unbearably bright. She sprawled back against the mountain of pillows with a heavy sigh, as if she had spent the majority of the day on her feet and not strewn unconscious across various surfaces. Rio straddled her, wearing an old T-shirt and the new boxer briefs Agatha bought her for Christmas. She held the Vicks in one hand as she used the other to loosen the knotted sash at Agatha’s waist. The bathrobe fell open slightly and she parted it further, fingers spidering over the bare skin beneath. Agatha failed to suppress a shiver at the cool sparks that scattered across her overheated flesh — it didn’t help that the air felt so much colder than it actually was after the tropical post-shower warmth of the bathroom.

A third sensation crept into her awareness like an overly friendly neighbor trying to get her attention. Her nostrils flared slightly, then not-so-slightly as the tickle grew, her lips parting to take in more air. She could just make out Rio’s expression — a combination of arousal and bemused disbelief — before her eyes fluttered shut.

“My love, I haven’t—” Rio hesitated when Agatha furrowed her brow and held up a hand, but then continued speaking anyway, as if she could reason with a reflex. “I haven’t even opened it yet.”

It really didn’t matter — this cold had her nose so compromised, she was perpetually one strong scent, stray hair, or mere suggestion away from sneezing. Lifting the edge of her robe, she turned her face towards the inside and inhaled so deeply that Rio rose up slightly as her lungs filled with air.

“hh’IHHHhh!—hih’DTZSHHhhiu!”

The eruption of spray felt warm and oddly pleasant against her skin, pairing nicely with an encouraging “Salud!” from Rio. The second sneeze came on slowly, and — given how effectively the first one had scratched the itch — more out of habit than necessity. Rio watched expectantly, fingers gliding up and down her quivering torso with gentle encouragement. The contact tickled a little, evoking a bout of light laughter that transitioned quickly into hitching breaths.

“heh!-hihh’hh… ihHh’TSHhy-u!” The itchy little burst seemed to add to her irritation rather than relieve it. She had just enough time to register the annoyance she felt at that fact before her breath stuttered in anticipation of a third that never came. “hihh’IHTT?—h’huh…”

Hiding her face in her robe, Agatha sighed and relaxed in increments. That second sneeze, along with the entirely unnecessary false start that followed, obliterated whatever relief remained from the first. She cast about for a tissue or handkerchief and, finding none, reluctantly used her robe to wipe her nose. Sniffling wetly, she tossed herself back against the pillows and flung her arms across her face with a declarative moan of frustration.

“Shitty luck,” Rio sympathized, tilting the blue container from side to side as Agatha squinted at her from between the shutters of her arms. “This should help get some of those stubborn ones out.”

“Yeah, and thed I wod’t be able to stop,” Agatha said, cringing at the admission as she brought her arms together to hide the rest of her face.

“You haven’t been able to stop,” Rio observed gently, stroking her fingers through her hair. She pinched some of the ends together and studied the resulting sprig, twisting it in her fingers as if assessing its potential for mischief before releasing it again. “At least this might help you get to completion.”

“Gross.” Agatha wrinkled her nose. “You kndow what? I’ll let you rub that slop od mby chest — just mby chest — if you prombis to stop saying weird shit like that undtil after mbidndight. Thingk you cad handle that?”

“Deal,” Rio said, grinning devilishly as she combed her own hair back with her fingers. “But first things first…”

That was when Agatha noticed, too late, the slender thermometer tucked behind her ear like a cigarette. Rio hesitated to grab it when she saw the realization in her eyes, providing Agatha with an opening to steal it for herself. Once in possession of the device she held it above her head, issuing a taunting “Ha!” that made her buckle forward with a series of spluttering coughs.

“If you want to be a baby about this,” Rio said, plucking it effortlessly from her hands, “I can go get the butt one.”

“You really kndow how to set the mbood,” Agatha said hoarsely, rubbing at her throat as she struggled to catch her breath.

“Look who’s talking.” Rio teased, before softening her voice in a way that felt like a trap. “Come on… you know nothing would turn me on more than knowing your exact body temperature.”

Agatha snorted, then sniffled with regret. She used her sleeve to dab at her nostrils, just enough to dry them, not wanting to further compromise the robe or her chafing skin. It occurred to her to ask for a tissue — come to think of it, it was odd that Rio hadn’t offered her one yet — but Agatha kept her mouth shut. Right now her primary objective was keeping her body temperature a mystery.

“I just don’t see the poindt,” she said. “It’s ndot like I’be going to take eddythig.”

“You could take it easy,” Rio suggested. “In fact, you should be doing that anyway.”

“I’ve bend taki’g it easy all day,” she whined. “I’be tired of taki’g it easy.”

“Have you seen the way you sneeze?” Rio tapped her gently on the nose with the end of the thermometer before moving it down to rest against her pouting lips. “I wouldn’t call that ‘taking it easy.’ Now, open that pretty mouth for me.”

As much as Agatha wanted to resist, flattery unlocked her lips like a skeleton key. She begrudgingly allowed the thermometer to be slipped under her tongue, fighting to keep her composure as Rio made faces at her to try and make her laugh. Holding the instrument in place while trying to breathe and keep her nose in check was enough of a challenge without the additional antics. It was a wonder she made it to the end without dropping the thermometer or sneezing it out of her mouth.

beep beep beep

They both went for it at the same time, two rookie players meeting in a clumsy tip-off. The thermometer fell and landed somewhere between them, getting lost in the blankets. Agatha found it first, snatching it up and leaning away to read it, one arm held out to prevent Rio from getting close enough to see. She squinted, even though she had no intention of reading or sharing the actual numbers.

"I already don't believe you,” Rio said, as soon as Agatha opened her mouth to deliver the verdict. She stammered, refusing to look at Rio directly as she held the thermometer close to her chest.

“It’s fide,” she insisted anyway, once she could form sentences again. “It’s ndormbal.”

“Then let me s—”

Before Rio could finish her sentence Agatha whipped the thermometer off the bed, sending it skittering across the floor. She brought a hand to her mouth and looked at Rio in disbelief, as if she were the one who had flung it.

“Why did you…” Rio paused, taking a moment to fully process what just happened and what she wanted to say about it before trying again. “You know I’m too lazy to get that right now.”

“Then don’t,” Agatha said simply. “It’s probably broken anyway.”

Rio ignored her, squinting at the thermometer as if calculating the distance it had flown and whether it would be worth the effort to retrieve it. At first Agatha was certain she was too comfortable to move, but before she could start feeling too smug about her perceived victory Rio rolled off, grunting softly as she clambered down from the bed. Agatha shivered, drawing the robe tighter around her body to compensate for the sudden lack of body heat.

“Oh, cub od,” she whined, as Rio reached down to retrieve the thermometer. “You’re bei’g ridiculous.”

“I’m being—?”

Those two words were as far as Rio got before she stopped to take a deep breath, seeming to remember that there was no use arguing with her wife — especially not when her “counterpoints” were just poorly disguised defense mechanisms. Thumbing at her own nose with a sniffle, Rio simply turned the thermometer around so that the proof was facing Agatha. The latter suppressed a wince, trying to appear unaffected by the result as she rubbed her jawline and squinted at the device. She couldn’t read the number, but she could see there were three digits in front of the decimal point.

“One-hundred even,” Rio said.

“That’s it?” Agatha balked. She was secretly surprised that the last zero wasn’t an eight, to the point that she wondered if Rio needed to get her eyes checked. “That’s a low grade fever. The lowest it gets, actually.”

“Still a fever.”

“It’s barely two degrees above ndormbal,” Agatha persisted, using air quotes for ‘normal.’ “And you know I run hot. How bad could it be, really? I feel fide — that’s what should mbatter. Not the numbers on some defective thermbombeter from the world’s shittiest pharmbacy.”

Crawling back into bed, Rio assumed her previous position on top of Agatha as she listened to her rant. She fished the Vicks from the folds of the blankets and sat back slowly, turning the jar in her hands as she pondered the woman between her legs. She seemed to be reconsidering her strategy, adopting the visage of a war-hardened general. When she finally spoke again, her words carried the weight of a challenge — or a threat.

“Let’s just see how you feel after this,” she said, separating the lid from the jar with a final twist.

There was a subtle vindictiveness to the gesture that Agatha didn’t get a chance to overthink before the cool sting of eucalyptus and menthol flooded the air. For a moment neither of them spoke, Agatha already focused on fighting off another sneeze as Rio watched her with an expression of barely-suppressed glee. Her reaction had Agatha questioning just how concerned she really was about this fever she supposedly had.

“Speech may become difficult for you,” Rio said matter-of-factly, as if she were reading the side effects in a medication commercial. “If you have anything to say, I suggest you get it out while you can.”

As much as Agatha wanted to disregard her remark, to act aloof and unaffected, there was something she needed desperately. Fighting to keep her eyes open, she swallowed hard before forcing herself to articulate her request through the cloying tickle.

“Sumb tih’hh!…” She sniffled and cleared her throat harshly, as if to reprimand her body, before closing her eyes (an action she convinced herself was entirely her own choice) and trying again. “Tissues would be ndice.”

“All in due time, my love.”

She wanted to ask what that meant — if ever there was a time, surely it was now — but she couldn’t concentrate on anything except trying not to sneeze all over herself and Rio. Seemingly determined to thwart her efforts, Rio dipped a finger into the jar and gathered up a generous glob of ointment on the tip. Agatha felt her own fingers convening into fists as she fought to keep from rubbing at her tingling nose. She desperately wanted to touch it, to scratch at the itch before it grew and spread and consumed her sanity like wildfire, but she was afraid of making it worse.

Not that it mattered. Rio had only just started rubbing the ointment onto her chest when Agatha turned her head, caught in a long inhale. The only thing she could think to do was lift her hand to cover the sneeze as it burst out of her, wet and violent, like rain from a ruptured storm cloud.

“IHh’GSHhhiew!” The fever-warmed spray coated her hand, followed by the slow trickle of fluid from her nostrils. “hiihh-hih! ih’DTZSCHh’u!”

“Bless you!”

Agatha groaned in response. The blessing was nice, but she needed more than acknowledgement right now. She attempted to move, to go find something to manage the mess that wasn’t her robe or the blankets, but the lower half of her body was pinned down by the weight of Rio straddling her hips. While not a formidable obstacle under normal circumstances, the present disturbance sapped Agatha of her strength and dexterity, making it difficult for her to coordinate her limbs to mount an escape. It didn’t help that Rio seemed to have no intention of moving.

“h’hh-hih-hih!… ih’HihHZSHhhiew!” The sneeze threw her forward a bit, the upper half of her body lifting off the bed slightly. Some of the spray escaping the barrier of her curved hand. “hiH’YSHHhh!-oo…”

“Bless you, baby.” Rio tightened her thighs as Agatha took a breath that might have been deeper, if not for the knees pressing into her sides. “Do you—oh!”

“IHDZSHHh’u!” Agatha clapped her other hand over the first, reinforcing the only barrier between her waning dignity and a literal flood of humiliation. Rio eased up on her straddle to give her more room to breathe, which she made full use of with the next sweeping inhale. “hihhHHHH’ASCHHh!-uu—ASCHH’oo! … ughh, fuck…”

“Bless you, bless you, bless you!”

“I’be so sorry,” Agatha said, blushing like Rio could see through her hands to the mess on the other side. “I couldidt…”

“Don’t be,” she insisted, wiping off what remained of the ointment against Agatha’s chest. “It sounded like you really needed them.”

“Well…” Stiffening at her speculation, Agatha attempted, then aborted, a sniffle. “I didn’t ndeed the fuck’ig mbess.”

“But the messy ones are the most satisfying, don’t you think?”

Rio rolled her hips, not even trying to hide how much this was turning her on. Agatha glared at her over her hands, refusing to answer her question. Those sneezes did feel good — really good, especially with how tingly her nose felt from the vapors — but she wasn’t going to volunteer that information. The rhetoricals were becoming tiresome, and she didn't want to do anything that might reinforce them.

“Havendt really thought about it,” she said, reluctantly wiping one hand against her robe. She kept the other cupped and hovering close to her nose, a temporary solution to a rapidly worsening problem. “But I sure could use those tissues ndow.”

“Oh, sorry!” Rio said. “But no.”

“What do you mbeand ‘ndo’?”

❄️❄️❄️

The car came to a sudden stop, rousing Agatha just enough for her to become aware of the tears in her eyes, the seatbelt tight across her chest, and a growing desire to sneeze. The unexpected presence of a sweet, slightly herby smell (anise, or was it caraway?) didn’t seem to be helping. She clung stubbornly to sleep, reluctant to face the sickness and stress that awaited her on the other side. But then she could sense that Rio was waiting there, too — the real flesh and blood version, not the memory masquerading as a dream — and that made her feel like rejoining the land of the conscious might be worth the discomfort.

She smiled at the light pressure and gentle heat of a hand coming to rest on her thigh. A thumb stroked her leg as she sniffled reflexively, with no regard for what mayhem the action might provoke. When the tickle sharpened to a stinging pinprick she gasped, holding the breath hostage for a beat. Topping off with a shaky inhale, she succumbed to a pair of sneezes that doused the dashboard.

“hHHihyhHSHhh—hh’ihTSCHHhh!-ue…” She sniffled and sighed with relief, turning to press her cheek into a fresh cold section of the window. “Mmm…”

“Bless you, sweetness,” Rio said, giving her leg a squeeze. “You slept the whole ride home... I think all that sneezing wiped you out.”

The honeyed blessing filled Agatha’s heart with a bubbly giddiness like champagne. She couldn’t help but chuckle as she glanced over at Rio, even as her breath fluttered in the clutches of a competing reflex. “Sweet” was not a word used to describe Agatha Harkness in any world but Rio’s.

“How are you feeling?” she asked. Agatha furrowed her brow and lifted a hand, a wordless request to wait that doubled as a half-hearted attempt to cover her next sneeze.

“h’hHeh!” She teetered on the cusp, fanning her hand slightly before sneezing towards it. “hH’ihHZSHHhiew! F-huhh’ck…”

“That bad, huh?” Rio gave her leg another squeeze as she lingered in pre-sneeze territory, fingers twitching and eyebrows raised expectantly. After a moment the tickle faded, drawing a groan from her lips and a giggle from Rio. “Bless you.”

“Thangks.” Agatha moved her hand away hesitantly before wiping it against her jeans, taking a moment to check in with her body. “I actually feel… kide of okay?”

Given her state these last few days, “kind of okay” was a huge step up. It was also extremely subject to change, as she had to re-learn every time she got sick. She woke up from this last nap feeling somewhat rejuvenated, while the two that preceded it had only left her feeling more exhausted. Her symptoms remained as present and burdensome as ever — her throat still inflamed, her sinuses tender, a wall of congestion and a tickle that didn’t feel like they were going away anytime soon — but she had more energy now, and that made a world of difference.

“I hope that means your appetite’s back,” Rio said. “Wanda made a ton of soup.”

“She…” Agatha stared at her for a moment, still a little foggy. “Soup?”

With a hint of a smirk, Rio gestured towards her feet. Agatha glanced down at the huge, red-lidded Tupperware nestled between her boots. So that’s what Wanda had sprinted out of the house in her slippers to deliver to them before they drove away, nearly giving Agatha a heart attack in the process. Her first thought was that something had happened to Nicky, but Wanda was calm and smiling, if not a little out of breath, by the time she intercepted Rio outside of the car. Agatha recalled watching them through the window as what should have been a quick exchange turned into a two-minute conversation. Part of her had wondered if they were talking about her, but a bigger part of her — the part riddled with illness, exhaustion, and a rapidly growing apathy — simply didn’t give enough of a fuck to find out.

By the time Rio had gotten into the car, Agatha was snoring, her cheek pressed against the glass. Apparently she stayed that way, sleeping through the chaos of traffic, until they arrived at their parking garage.

“You must have put on quite the show when you ran into her today,” Rio said with an odd little smile.

This time her jealousy sounded teasing, playful — it was as if something had shifted in her since conversing with Wanda, loosening up some tension that had built up between them. It felt like their marriage had clawed its way up through six feet of dirt to take a breath of fresh air.

“She told me she doubled up on the ingredients after she saw you,” Rio continued. “So she could make some extra pretz… pretzanka…?”

“Prežganka,” Agatha corrected hoarsely, surprised she could still remember what it was called. It wasn’t something Wanda would make very often — in fact, the only time she recalled eating it was when someone in the house wasn’t feeling well. And with the stress and long nights that defined her life at the time, Agatha was usually that someone.

“Salud,” Rio joked, donning an unapologetic smirk when Agatha shot her a look. “Whatever it’s called, it smells delicious. And she said it’s for the both of us, so you have to share.”

“Fide with mbe,” Agatha said, waving her hand dismissively. “That stuff is so filli’g, I doubt we’ll evind fiddish it all.”

“Well, I plan on having the munchies later,” Rio said, before her face lit up with an idea. “We should get stoned and eat it in bed.”

“So you cand spill it all over our sheets? A tebpti’g offer, but ndo.” Agatha trailed two fingernails along the inside of Rio’s arm, lowering her voice seductively. “But there is wud thig I dote bind you eati’g id bed…”

She hated that she sounded so congested and that her voice seemed to crack on every other word, but Rio visibly lit up, her lizard brain reacting to the request before the more logical parts could catch up. There was no doubt in Agatha’s mind that she was very much interested, but when Rio rested a hand against her cheek with a wan smile, Agatha knew she wasn’t going to be thrilled with what she was about to say.

“Before we do anything, I think we need to take your temperature,” she suggested gently. Agatha silently willed the heat to stop emanating so intensely from her body, to no avail. “Maybe a shower and a quick Vicks session to clear out those sinuses, then go from there. What do you say?”

Allowing Rio to apply Vicks Vaporub to her chest and feet was the closest Agatha ever came to taking cold medicine in her adult life. She would have still put up more of a fight — while the stuff did work wonders, it set her nose ablaze for an indeterminate amount of time — but she was so desperate to be touched she found herself nodding in agreement just to keep things moving in what she could only hope was the right direction. At this point she would let Rio slather her in hot sauce and gasoline if that was what it would take to get her hands on her body before midnight.

When Agatha opened her mouth to respond her breath stuttered, her sinuses tingling with olfactory memories of menthol. She lifted a fist to rub at her nose, but only got as far as applying pressure to the tip before dropping her hand. Simply touching it sent what felt like a jolt of electricity racing up along the bridge; it fizzed and sparked like the tail end of a firework when it reached her sinuses. Agatha crinkled her nose like a rabbit in a last-ditch effort to chase it away, her lips pursed with fading determination. They parted as she stole a breath, then another, an urgently drawn gasp fraught with desperation. Just when she accepted her fate, the preparatory breaths that had filled her lungs suddenly forgot their marching orders — another failure to launch. It was her body’s favorite trick to play on her whenever she had a cold, and a huge part of why being sick was so frustrating, but Rio loved it, the fucking brat.

“Bless…?” She laughed as Agatha exhaled and gave her scathing but pitiful look. “Oops! Guess I spoke too soon.”

Not ready to accept defeat, Agatha pressed her hand against her nose the same way as before, hoping to nudge the lost sneeze back into existence. This time it didn’t trigger as strong of a reaction, just a faint itch that pulsed gently in the background, like the flashing light of a fire alarm at the edge of her vision. Fixing Rio in her watery gaze, she clawed some tissue shreds out of her pocket to wipe at her dripping nose.

“If you’re a good girl,” she said, pausing to sniffle heavily, “I’ll let you help mbe get that out later.”

Rio practically malfunctioned, still and silent as a stone while she watched Agatha blow her nose. After checking in with Wanda they headed out for a quick walk through the cold to their apartment. Agatha agreed to take half of one of the fast-acting gummies Rio had stashed in an old prescription bottle in her pocket — and for her, that was plenty. Their hands bumped together as they walked, their fingers eventually twining together, bodies drifting closer. Every so often Rio would slow down, squeezing Agatha’s hand or giving it a little tug, a silent request to match her pace as her gaze flickered towards the overhead lights. Her eyes would lose focus before fluttering shut, scrunching tighter as she sent a barrage of spraying sneezes down between them.

“ATCHH!-huh… hh’hAESHhh—EHSHhh!-uh… huhhHH’ATSCHh!”

Her outbursts echoed cacophonously throughout the parking garage, so loud Agatha feared she might actually set off some car alarms. A group of people dressed up to go out were exiting the structure as they got closer to the doors. One or two of them glanced their way as Rio stumbled against her escort with the force of each sneeze, but the rest minded their own business. A wise choice, as far as Agatha was concerned.

Relieving Rio of the container, she checked it for leaks — its contents had been sloshing around pretty violently — but the only thing leaking at the moment was Rio. Fishing what she hoped were clean tissues from her pocket, Agatha passed them over just in time for her to catch another jarring sneeze.

“ASCHHh’oo!—ahh, fuck, I—hih!—m’b sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She wrapped a protective arm around Rio, kissing the top of her head as she slumped against her. “You have ndothi’g to be sorry about.”

The fit continued as they spilled out onto the sidewalk, then in the foyer, and finally in the hallway, drawing the ire of a couple neighbors. Agatha found their reactions irritating; not only could Rio not help it, but it was New Year’s Eve, one of the loudest nights of the year. With the fireworks and rowdy crowds in the streets just outside, a few (admittedly ear-shattering) sneezes in the hallway should have been the least of their concerns. The only thing stopping Agatha from having fighting words with the mouthy neighbor four doors down was the fact that the woman was hard of hearing — go figure — and Agatha didn’t want to waste what little voice she had getting into a pointless shouting match. Rio grabbed her gently by the wrist, her other hand curled around her nose as she fought to keep her expression steady.

“Cálmbate.”

“I amb calmb,” Agatha insisted, pulling her arm back. The fact that Rio was advising a retreat and not stepping up beside her to lambast the old biddy between sneezes was a sobering reminder that they weren’t anywhere close to being at their best.

She could tell Rio was using all of her energy just to keep herself together, only falling apart once they reached the safety of their front door. As Agatha fiddled with the keys Rio rubbed her nose, her expression warping with itchy desperation. Dropping her hand, she twisted to the side and sneezed down towards the floor.

“ASHHh’ue! huh…h-ATCHh! ATSHHh’u!”

“Are you allergic to the hallway or subthing?” Agatha watched Rio build up to another sneeze, eyes wide. “Jesus, bless—”

“EHh’ATSCHhh’oo!”

“—bless you.”

“Fucki’g fuck fuck fuck,” she exclaimed, succumbing to a full-bodied shiver as she leaned into Agatha. She sniffled against her bare hands as Agatha wondered what happened to the tissues she had given her.

“Sounds like you ndeed to joind mbe for a steamb.”

“Well thend, wh-huhh’t are we waiti’g f-for?” Rio asked, dropping her hands and raising an eyebrow. It was the only part of her face she seemed to have any control over at the moment, and the other brow soon joined it, the rest of her expression going slack as her mouth fell open. “hhH’h’HHhiih—AHSHH’u! ATCHh’iu! hih-AESHHh’oo!”

“You, mby love. Salud.” Agatha ushered her through the front door with a sweeping gesture. “Now ándale.”

❄️❄️❄️

While Rio ran the bath, Agatha played Tetris with the Tupperware and the contents of the fridge. The smell of the soup bypassed her congestion, evoking a gut-wrenching wave of nostalgia. The first time Wanda ever made it for her was when Agatha got sick about two or three months into… whatever it was that they were at the time, if they were even enough of anything to properly label. She had gone almost two days without eating, a habit that had become increasingly more common with Nicky in the hospital, except this time, being stuck home sick herself, it was harder to hide. Though she could barely smell or taste it, the prežganka had been warm and soothing on her throat. It was embarrassing how quickly she had scarfed it down — almost as embarrassing as failing to tend to her basic needs in the first place. All she could remember from afterwards was crying as Wanda’s nimble fingers worked through the knots in her hair, her gentle words and the lingering warmth of the food she made easing the knots in Agatha’s soul. She remembered thinking it must have been some sort of witchcraft, right before passing out for nearly ten hours straight. She slept hard, waking up the next morning with crazy hair and an ever crazier thirst, but feeling infinitely better.

The whole time Wanda had played with her hair, Agatha imagined it was Rio. She never told either of them about it — in fact, she never told Rio much of anything about her time with Wanda, which, now that she was thinking about it, was probably part of the problem. Her imagination was far too vivid to leave anything to its mercy, and with little to go on besides Nicky’s unsolicited comments, which were based on his extremely limited perspective of the months they spent together, Rio had to piece the rest together on her own. Agatha was not privy to the image of Wanda she had concocted in her mind — how could she be, when they never talked about it? When Agatha wasn’t sure she would have even welcomed the conversation, if Rio had ever dared to initiate it?

Part of her told her they didn’t necessarily have to talk about any of it to finally get some closure — look at how they were back on track already! — but deep down she knew they would have to discuss it eventually.

“HAHhd’CHh! hehh—EHhh’TCHH!-uhh…”

Just maybe not tonight.

Rio was still sneezing, plagued by an especially stubborn tickle. By Agatha’s count, which had only started when they got into the apartment, she was well past twenty sneezes by now. Each one was loud enough to be heard over the running water, a reminder to Agatha that she had somewhere else to be besides stuck in her own thoughts.

Shoving the refrigerator doors shut, she checked her phone again — no news was good news, though she sent a quick text to Wanda requesting proof of life — before heading towards the bathroom. Steam curled through the slightly open door in wispy tendrils, giving her the impression that she was standing at the portal to some otherworldly place. Pushing the door open, she stepped into the milky haze and was smacked with a wall of damp, heavy heat. Her heart thudded in her chest, the rubbery marshmallow of a bass pedal pounding against the drum of her ribcage.

The first thing she saw was Rio, shrouded in steam and nothing else, her body wracked with tiny shivers as she drove the peak of one knuckle into her right nostril. Even though she was squinting vaguely in her direction, she didn’t seem to fully register that Agatha was standing there. Her reddened nostrils twitched, her mouth opening wider as she drew the steamy air into her lungs. Her tongue slid forward a bit to rest against the glistening pillow of her bottom lip, pulsing slightly in a way that made Agatha’s cunt twitch with need.

“huh-huhh!” Shaking her head, Rio sneezed against the back of her hand, dousing her knuckles in three separate bursts. It didn’t seem to be a conscious effort to cover so much as pure coincidence that her hand happened to be directly in the line of fire. “AESHHh’ue—ATCHhh! huh’ASHHh-oo!”

There was a brief reprieve from the sneezing, but maybe not from the tickle causing it. Her expression remained unchanged, just as tense and irritated as before, if not more so. As Rio lifted her gaze to the overhead light Agatha found her own eyes drifting down to her tits, then lower as the defined lines of her abdomen smoothed out on the next long inhale.

“hihHHHH! — ASHHHhu!” This time she sneezed straight down the length of her body, her breasts bouncing slightly as they took the misty brunt of each eruption. “EHSCHHh’oo! AESHhh’oo!”

Even through the haze of steam Agatha could see the slight smile on her face and the way her nipples hardened from the light stimulation. It was obvious that she was enjoying herself — and, oddly enough, so was Agatha. Sometimes it was easy to see how Rio could find sneezing so appealing, both as a participant and as an observer.

“Whew, bless mbe,” Rio exclaimed, wiping the sheen of congestion from her upper lip. She thumbed absently at a stiffening nipple with her other hand, looking quite pleased with herself when she caught Agatha watching her in a state of speechlessness. “Oh, hey babe. I was testi’g out the steab for you. It, uh… deffiditly works.”

“I cand see that,” Agatha said, her mouth suddenly dry despite the humid air.

It took the mental equivalent of a crowbar to pry her attention away from Rio so she could go look for a hair tie. While she piled her hair in a messy bun Rio grabbed some toilet paper to blow her nose, snubbing the stack of handkerchiefs that sat on the counter. Agatha placed her phone face up beside the pile and got undressed, stopping halfway through taking her shirt off to partially stifle a pair of sneezes against the fabric. Sniffling back congestion, she glanced up at Rio and found her watching with a patient but hungry look in her eyes. It was a look that made Agatha shimmy out of her jeans and underwear in record time. As soon as the last garment hit the floor Rio swept back the shower curtain and held out her hand, an attendant offering to help a noblewoman into her carriage.

“Mb’lady.”

Kicking her discarded clothing aside, Agatha stepped into the tub without her help. Rio scoffed at the slight, a sound that segued into surprised laughter when Agatha grabbed her hand to pull her in behind her. When the laughter turned to coughing Agatha held her steady, placing one hand on her hip and taking her hand with the other. She rubbed soothing strokes along Rio’s knuckles, which still felt a little wet from where she had sneezed against them earlier.

When she finished coughing, Agatha asked “Big spoon or little spoon?”

Sniffling, Rio gave her an uncharacteristically sheepish look that told her everything she needed to know. Agatha tucked some hair behind her ear, though it wasn’t particularly in the way — she just wanted an excuse to touch her — and gave a smile of understanding. Lowering herself into the water, she reached up for Rio, who followed suit with a lack of confidence that suggested she wasn’t feeling very steady on her feet. Settling between her legs, Rio leaned back into her embrace with a contented sigh and an air of relief. They sat and soaked in relative silence, Agatha with her arms wrapped around Rio, Rio scratching them lightly with her fingernails, the both of them taking turns sniffling and clearing their throats. As horny as Agatha was, she was also feeling like a pile of refried garbage, so it was nice to just sit and relax in the hot water for a bit.

Closing her eyes, Agatha imagined that, instead of garbage, she was the warm caramel coating spreading across a candy apple. The edible was definitely kicking in — she felt as fluid as the bath water leeching the winter chill from her bones. Her nose was running in earnest now, the sensation eliciting a faint tickle that pestered her like the droning of an elusive mosquito.

After a moment Rio shifted between her legs, displacing some of the water as she leaned forward. She let out a little grunt of effort, like she was reaching for something, and Agatha opened an eye just in time to see her settling back against her chest with a wiggle. She resumed trailing one hand lazily across Agatha’s arms, peering at her upside-down with a glazed but knowing expression. Her other hand hung over the edge of the bathtub, clutching something out of sight.

“How’s it going?” Rio asked, smiling when she noticed the dribble of mess on Agatha’s upper lip. “Do you feel it working?”

“The pot or the s-steeamb, because… hh! - h-hold od, I — hh’hHiih!” The little tickle wasn’t so little anymore, the sensation swelling so suddenly she didn’t have time to properly announce it, let alone turn away or cover. “hyISHHhh!-uu…”

She opened her eyes slowly, afraid of what she might find, but Rio had come to the rescue, lifting a handkerchief to contain the blast. Agatha felt her breath falter a few times before softening into a steadier rhythm, the tension draining from her features. Something flipped the breakers in her internal fuse box, restoring power to her arms. Commandeering the handkerchief, she balled it up and used it to scrub at her nose.

Intrigued, Rio turned and rose from the water like some Lovecraftian sea creature, her hair floating around her in dark tendrils. Agatha could feel her watching her as she rubbed up and down her nose, from the tip to mid-bridge and back down again, as if trying to erase the freckles that dotted the skin there.

“Just the wund?” Rio asked, raising her eyebrows as Agatha seemed to aggravate a nerve. She shook her head and inhaled with audible desperation, the tickle crackling along the bridge of her nose like a lit fuse. “Oh, are you—?”

“ihhH’YSHHhhoo!” Agatha sneezed violently into the drenched ball of fabric, eyes scrunched shut so tightly that it squeezed tears from the corners. A wrenching gasp dragged her back in like a retreating tide, the sound ringing off the tiles of the small bathroom. “hihh-IHGSHHHhiew! IHZSHHhoo!”

“Bless you… bless y—bless you!” Each subsequent outburst seemed to surprise Rio. It looked like she was waiting to see if there would be more, but Agatha only sighed wearily before blowing her nose. She felt her face growing hotter as Rio gave her leg an encouraging squeeze. “There you go, mby love. Get it all out.”

“Why?” she asked cynically, sniffling and re-folding the handkerchief so she could blot her nostrils with a drier section. “It just cubs right back. Ndo batter how buch I blow, there’s always mbore to take its place, I’be so sih-hihhh’ck of it — goddambiiht!” Crushing her nose against the fabric, Agatha muffled two more congested sneezes into the handkerchief — “hiHYGSHHh’oo! ih’dZSHhh’u!” — before coughing productively. The steam was doing its job, but she wasn’t particularly thrilled about it.

“Well, you’re defidditely sick,” Rio said, earning herself a watery-eyed glare.

“Ndo kidding,” Agatha said bitterly. “And whose fault is that?”

“Pretty sure we’ve already established that it’s mbide,” Rio said, swirling a finger through the water. There was a kernel of amusement in her otherwise guilty tone that made Agatha narrow her eyes. “If it’s eddy condsolationd, I’mb really sorry.”

“Oh, stop, you are ndot,” she snapped, her voice cracking mid-sentence. Agatha cleared her throat before continuing, keeping pressure on the handkerchief as if stanching a wound. “You agtually have the audacity to get off to mby sufferi’g. Mby mbisery. Why couldn’t you have been into sumbthig we both endjoy?”

“Sometimbes I think you do endjoy this,” Rio said with a sly little smile. And then, as Agatha stammered in an effort to cobble together a coherent response, she added a quick “Bless you, by the way.”

There was a casual tenderness to the delayed blessing that threw her off kilter again. Choosing not to address the other comment, Agatha murmured a barely perceptible "thangk you” before blowing her nose. She whimpered with disgust at the sensation of the handkerchief reaching its limit in her hands, but at the moment she had no other options.

When she opened her eyes, Rio was smirking and holding out a clean cloth to replace the current, now useless one drooping in her hands.

“What are you, a mbagiciond?” she asked, snapping up the offering. Even though she had just removed what felt like a pint of mucus from her head, she was frustrated to find she still felt and sounded just as congested as before.

“Mbore like a wizard,” Rio said, before reconsidering. “Or a witch.”

“You’re certaindly wicked edough.”

“That would be you, mby dear,” Rio said, her smirk softening into something more affectionate than smug. “Wonderfully wicked…”

She stroked her fingernails along Agatha’s jawline, down the length of her neck, and across the ledge of her collarbone. Her hand crept slowly, giving Agatha plenty of time to protest if she were so inclined, but she merely watched, her breaths becoming shallower as her face flushed with more than fever. Pleasure sparked across her skin everywhere Rio touched, gathering and growing until it bubbled out of her in a raspy moan. Rio was just starting to trace the curve of her right breast when Agatha shivered, her gaze shifting out of focus. The hand with the handkerchief drifted towards her face as her chest rose and fell with slow, uncertain breaths.

“Againd?” Rio remarked in disbelief, watching raptly as the sneeze laid siege to her expression. “Mby love, you’re indsatiable.”

“I’be dot insatiable, I’be sihh… h’ihhHH—!” Her breath gave a violent hitch, her brow crumpling with irritation as she fought doggedly to get the last word out. “—s-sihhck - h’ihDZSHHhyu!”

“Bless you!” Rio exclaimed. “Maybe you should focus less od the comebacks and more od getting that ndose of yours to relax?”

Agatha waved her handkerchief impatiently, a silent command to be quiet so she could concentrate. The next sneeze was not as eager to emerge as its predecessor, but she refused to let it slip away that easily. She closed her eyes and panted softly, making the occasional vocal “heh!” or “ahh!” of encouragement that never turned into anything more. It wasn’t until Rio asked “Stuck again?” that the tickle finally backed off, but not before one last fizzing surge, sharp and fleeting, like carbonation striking the tongue. It made her nose crinkle as she dabbed at it with a series of watery sniffles.

“Fuck,” she sighed, annoyed that the second sneeze did, in fact, slip away that easily.

“Oh, mby love,” Rio crooned affectionately. “I wonder if…” She stopped suddenly, her eyes going wide. “Whoa.”

“What?” Agatha paused mid-dab, looking slightly alarmed as her nostrils flickered against the dampening fabric. “What’s wrong?”

“Either you fucked up your blood vessels with all that sneezi’g…” Rio peered into her soul through her dilated pupils for what felt like a very long time. “… or your candabindoid receptors are getting hambered. Your eyes look crazy.”

“Yeah, well, you should take a look ind the mbirror,” Agatha said. Rio’s eyes were wilder than usual, the blood vessels fuzzy and pink like Seussian tree branches. “Is that what you interrupted mby sndeeze to tell mbe?”

“Your sneeze interrupted itself, and I… uh… huh.” Rio sat looking dumbfounded for a moment. “I actually forgot what I was going to say.”

“Pity.”

The thought never returned. Neither did the sneeze, but while they finished soaking and rinsing off Agatha suffered three more failed attempts to bring it to fruition. The only thing more annoying than losing it over and over and over again like she was stuck in the world’s lamest time loop was watching Rio sneeze so effortlessly. Within seconds of turning on the showerhead she was struck with what sounded like a very tickly fit. Bracing one hand against the tiled wall, she brought the other to hover vaguely in front of her face, loosely covering each blast. Most of the spray made it through and around the ineffective barrier, mingling indistinguishably with the water from the showerhead. Halfway through the attack Agatha reached out to hold her by her hips, nervous that she might knock herself right off her feet.

“Bless you,” she offered, when Rio finally stopped sneezing long enough to take a few uninterrupted breaths. “Better?”

“I thigk so…” She exhaled heavily, giving her nose a few squishy-sounding rubs with the base of her thumb. “Fuck mbe…”

“That’s the pland.”

Rio gave Agatha a coy look as she dried herself off. Grabbing a handkerchief, she filled it with as much congestion as she could expel in a single blow. Agatha was relieved to see her finally allowing herself the same basic comforts she so lovingly forced upon her. She tried not to envy her clearer breathing, though it was hard not to when it felt like her own sinuses were packed with slow-drying cement. The steam had helped to loosen things up for a decent stretch of time, but Agatha’s immune system was unrelenting, responding more quickly than she could clear her body of its efforts.

Stepping out of the tub, she spotted her phone and wondered with a start how Nicky was doing. Shit, when did she last check in? Her mind convinced her it had been an unacceptable length of time. Guilt compounded in her throat as she hurried to the sink, naked and dripping, to claw at her phone. Rio, who hadn’t made any effort to keep her hair out of the water, stopped in the middle of towel-drying it to watch.

“What’s up?” she asked, a dribble of fluid escaping her nose as she tilted her head to the side. She swiped it away quickly before sniffling, reflexes still sharp despite the high that made her eyes look like two caramel flans. “Everything good with Ndicky?”

“I’mb checking on himb ndow.”

Agatha was relieved to find no missed calls, though there were two texts from Wanda, sent nearly five minutes ago. One was a photo of the boys on the couch holding mugs of hot cocoa topped with candy cane bits and miniature marshmallows. The other was a text message that said

Agatha snorted, bringing a curved index finger to her nose as a precaution when she felt the congestion shifting. She considered turning the phone to show Rio, but she was too busy digging erratically through the medicine cabinet. A bottle of Advil swan dived from the top shelf, landing in the sink with a dramatic rattle as Rio grabbed for the Vicks Vaporub. It was odd to see her fumbling — she knew that medicine cabinet like the back of her hand. When her fingers finally closed around the familiar blue jar Agatha groaned, nose crinkling already.

“Do we have to?” she whined, putting her phone down to dry off.

“Are your ears clogged?” Rio sounded more curious than sarcastic as she returned the fallen pill bottle to its perch. “I feel like if you could hear yourself, you wouldn’t be asking me that question.”

“I cad hear just fide, thagks.”

After half-heartedly slathering some lotion over her skin, Agatha slipped into her bathrobe so she wouldn’t have to go through the effort of getting dressed. The fabric brushed against her prickling skin before settling over her shoulders, its unusual heaviness exacerbating the ache that had taken up residence in her bones. She removed the elastic tie from her ponytail and gave her hair a quick comb-through with her fingers, not ready to deal with the sensory nightmare of brushing it out fully just yet.

Agatha grabbed one of the handkerchiefs Rio had laid out and attempted a squeaky, ineffective blow. The only thing it accomplished, besides pissing her off, was making her sneeze again. She quietly smothered two back-to-back sneezes and let out a shaky sigh, eyes darting to Rio to check for her reaction. Apparently she was too busy to notice, hastily rearranging the contents of the medicine cabinet with one hand as she clutched the Vicks Vaporub in the other. When she finished she threw the cabinet door shut, knocking something else off the inner shelf in the process. She and Agatha looked at each other before silently agreeing to just leave it be for now.

“Are you sure we cad’t just skip all that and get straight to fucki’g?” she asked, eliciting a barking laugh from Rio as she turned to face her, brandishing the ointment. “If we play our cards right, we mbight evend have tibe for a ndap afterwards.”

“A nap?” Rio’s tone was incredulous in a way that Agatha did not appreciate. “I think we need to do something about all of…” She gestured vaguely towards her nose, which Agatha appreciated even less. “… that first, or you might choke to death in your sleep.”

“Well, you of all people should kndow that orgasibs are a ndatural—”

“Patience, my love,” Rio said. “There is a process.”

Agatha grumbled, but ultimately she acquiesced. She didn’t have the strength to put up a fight — standing upright for just a few minutes seemed to have drained her of her energy. After Rio forced her to drink some tap water from a little paper cup (“Why? So mby body can turnd it indto mbore mbucus?”), she allowed herself to be herded into the bedroom. Rio could have been leading her to the literal slaughter and Agatha would not have cared in the slightest. At this point, death would have been a welcome surprise.

They set up on the bed, but not before turning down the lights — sometimes, when Agatha wasn’t feeling well, they seemed unbearably bright. She sprawled back against a mountain of pillows with a heavy sigh, as if she had spent the majority of the day on her feet and not strewn unconscious across various surfaces. Rio straddled her, wearing an old T-shirt and the new boxer briefs Agatha bought her for Christmas. She held the Vicks in one hand as she used the other to loosen the knotted sash at Agatha’s waist. The bathrobe fell open slightly and she parted it further, fingers spidering over the bare skin beneath. Agatha failed to suppress a shiver at the cool sparks that scattered across her overheated flesh — it didn’t help that the air felt so much colder than it actually was after the tropical post-shower warmth of the bathroom.

A third sensation crept into her awareness like an overly friendly neighbor trying to get her attention. Her nostrils flared slightly, then not so slightly as the tickle grew, her lips parting to take in more air. She could just make out Rio’s expression — a combination of arousal and bemused disbelief — before her eyes fluttered shut.

“My love, I haven’t—” Rio hesitated when Agatha furrowed her brow and held up a hand, but then continued speaking anyway, as if she could reason with a reflex. “I haven’t even opened it yet.”

It really didn’t matter — this cold had her nose so compromised, she was perpetually one strong scent, stray hair, or mere suggestion away from sneezing. Lifting the edge of her robe, she turned her face towards the inside and inhaled so deeply that Rio rose up slightly as her lungs filled with air.

“hh’IHHHhh!—hih’DTZSHHhhiu!”

The eruption of spray felt warm and oddly pleasant against her skin, pairing nicely with an encouraging “salud!” from Rio. The second sneeze came on slowly, and — given how effectively the first one had scratched the itch — more out of habit than necessity. Rio watched expectantly, fingers gliding up and down her quivering torso with gentle encouragement. The contact tickled a little, evoking a bout of light laughter that transitioned quickly into hitching breaths.

“heh!-hihh’hh… ihHh’TSHhy-u!” The itchy little burst seemed to add to her irritation rather than relieve it. She had just enough time to register the annoyance she felt at that fact before her breath stuttered in anticipation of a third that never came. “hihh’IHTT?—h’huh…”

Hiding her face in her robe, Agatha sighed and relaxed in increments. That second sneeze, along with the entirely unnecessary false start that followed, obliterated whatever relief remained from the first. She cast about for a tissue or handkerchief and, finding none, reluctantly used the sleeve of her robe to wipe her nose. Sniffling wetly, she tossed herself back against the pillows and flung her arms across her face with a declarative moan of frustration.

“Shitty luck,” Rio sympathized, tilting the blue container from side to side as Agatha squinted at her from between the shutters of her arms. “This should help get some of those stubborn ones out.”

“Yeah, and thed I wod’t be able to stop,” Agatha said, cringing at the admission as she brought her arms together to hide the rest of her face.

“You haven’t been able to stop,” Rio observed gently, stroking her fingers through her hair. She pinched some of the ends together and studied the resulting sprig, twisting it in her fingers as if assessing its potential for mischief before releasing it again. “At least this will help you get to completion.”

“Gross.” Agatha wrinkled her nose. “You kndow what? I’ll let you rub that slop od mby chest — just mby chest — if you prombis to stop saying weird shit like that undtil after midndight. Thingk you cad handle that?”

“Deal,” Rio said, grinning devilishly as she combed her own hair back with her fingers. “But first things first…”

That was when Agatha noticed, too late, the slender thermometer tucked behind her ear like a cigarette. Rio hesitated to grab it when she saw the realization in her eyes, providing Agatha with an opening to steal it for herself. Once in possession of the device she held it above her head, issuing a taunting “Ha!” that made her buckle forward with a series of spluttering coughs.

“If you want to be a baby about this,” Rio said, plucking it effortlessly from her hands, “I can go get the butt one.”

“You really kndow how to set the mbood,” Agatha said hoarsely, rubbing at her throat as she struggled to catch her breath.

“Look who’s talking.” Rio teased, before softening her voice in a way that felt like a trap. “Come on… you know nothing would turn me on more than knowing your exact body temperature.”

Agatha snorted, then sniffled with regret. She used a clean part of her sleeve to dab at her nostrils, just enough to dry them, not wanting to further compromise the robe or her chafing skin. It occurred to her to ask for a tissue — come to think of it, it was odd that Rio hadn’t offered her one yet — but Agatha kept her mouth shut. Right now her primary objective was keeping her body temperature a mystery.

“I just don’t see the poindt,” she said. “It’s ndot like I’be going to take eddythig.”

“You could take it easy,” Rio suggested. “In fact, you should be doing that anyway.”

“I’ve bend taki’g it easy all day,” she countered. “I’m tired of taki’g it easy.”

“Have you seen the way you sneeze?” Rio tapped her gently on the nose with the end of the thermometer before moving it down to rest against her pouting lips. “I wouldn’t call that ‘taking it easy.’ Now, open that pretty mouth for me.”

As much as Agatha wanted to resist, flattery unlocked her lips like a skeleton key. She begrudgingly allowed the thermometer to be slipped under her tongue, fighting to keep her composure as Rio made faces at her to try and make her laugh. Holding the instrument in place while trying to breathe and keep her nose in check was enough of a challenge without the additional antics. It was a wonder she made it to the end without dropping the thermometer or sneezing it out of her mouth.

beep beep beep

They both went for it at the same time, two rookie players meeting in a clumsy tip-off. The thermometer fell and landed somewhere between them, getting lost in the blankets. Agatha found it first, snatching it up and leaning away to read it, one arm held out to prevent Rio from getting close enough to see. She squinted, even though she had no intention of reading or sharing the actual numbers.

"I already don't believe you,” Rio said, as soon as Agatha opened her mouth to deliver the verdict. She stammered, refusing to look at Rio directly as she held the thermometer close to her chest.

“It’s fide,” she insisted anyway, once she could form sentences again. “It’s ndormbal.”

“Then let me s—”

Before Rio could finish her sentence Agatha whipped the thermometer off the bed, sending it skittering across the floor. She brought a hand to her mouth and looked at Rio in disbelief, as if she were the one who had flung it.

“Why did you…” Rio paused, taking a moment to fully process what just happened and what she wanted to say about it before trying again. “You know I’m too lazy to get that right now.”

“Then don’t,” Agatha said simply. “It’s probably broken anyway.”

Rio ignored her, squinting at the thermometer as if calculating the distance it had flown and whether it would be worth the effort to retrieve it. At first Agatha was certain she was too comfortable to move, but before she could start feeling too smug about her perceived victory Rio rolled off, grunting softly as she clambered down from the bed. Agatha shivered, drawing the robe tighter around her body to compensate for the sudden lack of heat.

“Oh, cumb od,” she whined, as Rio reached down to retrieve the thermometer. “You’re bei’g ridiculous.”

“I’m being—?”

Those two words were as far as Rio got before she stopped to take a deep breath, seeming to remember that there was no use arguing with her wife. Especially not when her “counterpoints” were just poorly disguised defense mechanisms. Thumbing at her own nose with a sniffle, Rio simply turned the thermometer around so that the proof was facing Agatha. The latter suppressed a wince, trying to appear unaffected by the result as she rubbed her jawline and squinted at the device. She couldn’t read the number, but she could see there were three digits in front of the decimal point.

“One-hundred even,” Rio said.

“That’s it?” Agatha balked. She was secretly surprised that the last zero wasn’t an eight, to the point that she wondered if Rio needed to get her eyes checked. “That’s a low grade fever. The lowest it gets, actually.”

“Still a fever.”

“It’s barely two degrees above ndormbal,” Agatha persisted, using air quotes for ‘normal.’ “And you know I run hot. How bad could it be, really? I feel fide — that’s what should mbatter. Not the numbers on some defective thermbombeter from the world’s shittiest CVS.”

Crawling back into bed, Rio assumed her previous position on top of Agatha as she listened to her rant. She fished the Vicks from the folds of the blankets and sat back slowly, turning the jar in her hands as she pondered the woman between her legs. She seemed to be reconsidering her strategy, adopting the visage of a war-hardened general. When she finally spoke again, her words carried the weight of a challenge — or a threat.

“Let’s just see how you feel after this,” she said, separating the lid from the jar with a final twist.

There was a subtle vindictiveness to the gesture that Agatha didn’t get a chance to overthink before the cool sting of eucalyptus and menthol flooded the air. For a moment neither of them spoke, Agatha already focused on fighting off another sneeze as Rio watched her with an expression of barely-suppressed glee. Her reaction had Agatha questioning just how concerned she really was about this fever she supposedly had.

“Speech may become difficult for you,” Rio said matter-of-factly, as if she were reading the side effects in a medication commercial. “If you have anything to say, I suggest you get it out there while you can.”

As much as Agatha wanted to disregard her remark, to act aloof and unaffected, there was something she needed desperately. Fighting to keep her eyes open, she swallowed hard before forcing herself to articulate her request through the cloying tickle.

“Sumb tih’hh!…” She sniffled and cleared her throat harshly, as if to reprimand her body, before closing her eyes (an action she convinced herself was entirely her own choice) and trying again. “Tissues?”

“All in due time, my love.”

She wanted to ask what that meant — if ever there was a time, surely it was now — but she couldn’t concentrate on anything except trying not to sneeze all over herself and Rio. Seemingly determined to thwart her efforts, Rio dipped a finger into the jar and gathered up a generous glob of ointment on the tip. Agatha felt her own fingers convening into fists as she fought to keep from rubbing at her tingling nose. She desperately wanted to touch it, to scratch at the itch before it grew and spread and consumed her sanity like a wildfire, but she was afraid of making it worse.

Not that it mattered. Rio had only just started rubbing the ointment onto her chest when Agatha turned her head, caught in a long inhale. The only thing she could think to do was lift her hand to cover the sneeze as it burst out of her, wet and violent, like rain from a ruptured storm cloud.

“IHh’GSHhhiew!” The fever-warmed spray coated her fingers, followed by the slow trickle of fluid from her nostrils. “hiihh-hih! ih’DTZSCHh’u!”

“Bless you!”

Agatha groaned in response. The blessing was nice, but she needed more than acknowledgement right now. She attempted to move, to go find something to manage the mess that wasn’t her robe or the blankets, but the lower half of her body was pinned down by the weight of Rio straddling her hips. While not a formidable obstacle under normal circumstances, the present disturbance sapped Agatha of her strength and dexterity, making it difficult for her to coordinate her limbs. It didn’t help that Rio seemed to have no intention of moving.

“h’hh-hih-hih!… ih’HihHZSHhhiew!” The sneeze threw her forward a bit, some of the spray escaping the barrier of her curved hand. “hiH’YSHHhh!-oo…”

“Bless you, baby.” Rio tightened her thighs as Agatha took a breath that might have been deeper, if not for the knees pressing into her sides. “Do you—ohh!”

“IHDZSHHh’u!” Agatha clapped her other hand over the first, reinforcing the only barrier between her waning dignity and a literal flood of humiliation. Rio eased up on her straddle to give her more room to breathe, which she made full use of with the next sweeping inhale. “hihhHHHH’ASCHHh!-uu—ASCHH’oo! … ughh, fuck…”

“Bless you, bless you, bless you!”

“I’be so sorry,” Agatha said, blushing like Rio could see through her hands to the mess on the other side. “I couldidt…”

“Don’t be,” she insisted, wiping off what remained of the ointment against Agatha. “It sounded like you really needed them.”

“Well…” Stiffening at her speculation, Agatha attempted, then aborted, a sniffle. “I didn’t ndeed the fuck’ig mbess.”

“But the messy ones are the most satisfying, don’t you think?”

Rio rolled her hips, not even trying to hide how much this was turning her on. Agatha glared at her over her hands, refusing to answer her question. Those sneezes did feel good — really good, especially with how tingly her nose felt from the vapors — but she wasn’t going to volunteer that information. The rhetoricals were becoming tiresome, and she didn't want to do anything that might reinforce them.

“Havendt really thought about it,” she said, reluctantly wiping one hand against her robe. She kept the other cupped and hovering close to her nose, a temporary solution to a rapidly worsening problem. “But I sure could use those tissues ndow.”

“Oh, sorry!” Rio said. “But no.”

“What do you mbeand ‘ndo’?”