patheticandmiserable

[patheticandmiserable]

Nobody Misses Sinsmas! (A/lastor, L/ucifer, C/harlie)

I rushed through this to get it out before Christmas, so just- ignore all the issues

I was originally planning on writing 📻🍎, but it turned into friendly fluff instead. I just want characters to nice to Al 🥺

A/lastor gets sick right before S/insmas, and L/uci doesn’t want him to feel left out during the celebration.

slight mentions of contagion and mess

Charlie sat the last box of Sinsmas decorations on the floor, opening it and beginning to pull out black and red wreaths and strands of festive lights. “Al, can you get the tree?”

Alastor, standing beside the pile of boxes, snapped his fingers, and a fake pine tree appeared in one corner of the lobby. It was black and scraggly, like many of the plants in Hell were, and tall enough that not even he could reach the top. All he had to do, though, was summon a tendril of shadowy magic to place a pentagram on top of the tree for him. He could have just used his magic to decorate the entire hotel in an instant, but Charlie liked getting to spend time with him. That was why he was helping her do most of it by hand, and why he was moving at a bit of a slower pace than usual.

As Charlie got to work decorating the hotel’s entrance, she found Alastor to be a little less talkative than normal. She thought that maybe he just wasn’t very excited about the holidays, but didn’t want to dampen her mood. At first, she paid no mind to his sniffling, or occasional coughing, or even the first sneeze, but it became more and more persistent. He wasn’t as subtle about rubbing his nose as he thought he was, often pausing just before grabbing something in one of the boxes as he fought against the ticklish sensation. The more he resisted it, the worse it got. As he reached down to pick up a wreath, his breath hitched again. He pressed a finger against his itchy nostrils, stifling a sneeze into his shoulder.

“Hhngx-shhht!”

“Bless you,” Charlie called out, ignoring the fact that blessings weren’t a good thing in Hell. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m fine, my dear. It must be that these boxes are a bit dusty,” he waved her off, his voice a little dulled from congestion.

The Sinsmas tree was the last thing they got to, and by that point, there was no hiding how often Alastor had to pull a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe his red-tinged nose. He went to hang another ornament, but hesitated, rushing to cover his mouth with his free hand as his eyes fluttered shut. “Hihh-ihnxzzhihh—! Hhhnk’zzzhht!” The lights flickered as his head snapped downward, nearly knocking something off the tree.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” she questioned. “It sounds like you’re getting worse…”

“You have nothing to worry about; I’m—snf!—perfectly fi—hiii—hhiehk’shhhu!” He turned away from Charlie before grabbing the cloth from his pocket and cleaning up the watery mess that was threatening to drip.

“Maybe we should take a break…” She didn’t want him accidentally breaking anything—or spreading his germs around the hotel. She started gathering up the empty boxes and moving them aside, while he stalked off into another room.

Lucifer soon came over to her, looking around the lobby. “How’s everything going?” It was his first Sinsmas with his daughter in a long time, and he knew how excited she was to have everyone together.

Charlie was sitting on the sofa, on her phone, and looked up at him. “It’s going good! I just need to finish the tree.”

“I thought Al was helping you.” He took another glance around the room—no sign of the Radio Demon.

“He was earlier. I told him to take a break. I’m a little worried about him—he sounds like he’s getting sick… I don’t want him to be all alone tomorrow.”

Lucifer could share her sympathy, because he’d been looking forward to spending more time with him, too. “How about I help you finish decorating, and then we can plan on doing something for him tomorrow.”

Alastor continued to insist he wasn’t ill until evening. Everyone in the hotel already knew, but were worried about how he’d react if they said anything. He was starting to shiver from a slowly rising fever, choosing to eat dinner alone in his room before it became too noticeable. He sat in his chair, struggling to concentrate enough to read. He was just about to give up on finishing the chapter he was on when he heard a knock at his door, then saw Lucifer poke his head inside with an anxious smile. “Heyyy, Al, just checking on you.” He walked over to him, noting how his plate of food had much more left uneaten than it should have, how Alastor held onto his book tighter to stop his hands from shaking, and just how exhausted he looked. “You really don’t look too good… Can I—” He tentatively reached out to touch his forehead, but the sinner halfheartedly swatted his hand away.

“Sndff—I kndow I’mb runni’g a fever,” he snuffled.

“Well… there’s no need to try to hide it and overexert yourself, because we all know you’re sick. Make sure you get lots of rest tonight—I’m not gonna let you miss the Sinsmas celebration entirely.” He turned to leave, hoping that his efforts weren’t about to go unappreciated.

In the morning, Lucifer knocked on his door. As expected, there was no answer. He found that it was unlocked, though, and quietly entered. The Radio Demon was still asleep, the sound of his breathing crackling with static.

“Al, wake up,” he said softly, gently nudging his shoulder. The sinner responded with something between a hum and a groan, blearily opening his eyes to see Lucifer standing over him with a broad smile. He was wearing his rubber-duck-print pajamas—because it was Sinsmas, and he deserved at least one day to show them off. “Hey, Bambi—or should I say Rudolph? How’re ya feeling?”

Alastor sat up, a yawn turning into hoarse coughing. “Rather poorly.” Despite how long he’d slept for, he didn’t look like he’d gotten much rest. His ever-present grin was strained, his ears were lowered, and a sickly flush painted his face.

Lucifer gave him a worried look. “Let me take your temperature.” He magically summoned a digital thermometer, earning an eyeroll from the sinner, who reluctantly took it in his mouth. Once the number registered, he read, “101.8… Do you feel like sitting downstairs with everyone else, or do you want to go back to sleep?” Alastor could at least be in the same room as the others, though preferably not too close to them. That is, if he even felt like getting out of bed.

He sniffled, the sound wet and thick, and said, “I suppose I could join them for a little while… I can’t sleep the whole day awa-hay—hehh… Hh-HEHTKZZZ-SHUEWW!” He buried his face in his sleeve, resorting to wiping his nose on the damp fabric, too.

“Take some medicine, then I’ll bring you downstairs.”

A portal opened in the parlor, and Lucifer stepped out with the sick deer. If the others couldn’t tell how he felt just by looking at him the previous night, they could now. He was still in his pajamas, his hair unbrushed. Chills wracked his narrow body, and his movements were slow and lethargic. He didn’t like letting anyone see him this weak, yet it felt inconsiderate to ignore everyone on a holiday, and Lucifer really wanted him to get to celebrate with them. The King summoned a blanket, a cup of tea, and tissues for him. Alastor sat on the sofa, wrapping himself in the blanket before taking the tea.

The parlor was far more decorated than he’d left it, the walls lined with garland and red bows. Lucifer had conjured up several real plants, with potted poinsettias and pine shrubs adding some much-needed greenery. The bar was covered in colorful lights, a few scented candles were scattered across the hotel’s first floor (that Alastor didn’t even notice), the tree was covered in ornaments and had actual presents clustered beneath it.

“Al, you’re up!” Charlie called out, sympathy evident in her face despite her cheerful tone. She was wearing a red and white sweater and even had on a Santa hat. “Look, Dad made it snow outside!” She pointed outside, where snow could be seen falling only around the hotel. Peaceful weather like this didn’t naturally happen in Hell. Pentagram City only occasionally got snow, and it was always a massive blizzard that took out at least half of the city’s power.

“We should go out there an’ have a snowball fight!” Angel Dust shouted, standing in front of one of the windows.

Husk narrowed his eyes at him. “That’s not fair—you have more arms than the rest of us.”

Alastor tuned out the others as a familiar itching filled his sinuses. He grabbed a handful of tissues and held them up his face as his breath shuddered. “H-hhih—IHGK’SHHHIEWW! HEHGKZZH-shhu!” He bent forward with forceful sneezes that scraped against his irritated throat, a few weak coughs following after. The lights on the tree flickered, momentarily flashing to the green hue of the Radio Demon’s magic. Everyone turned to look at him with varying degrees of concern for the hotel’s electricity. He shot a withering glare back, then took a drink from his cup.

Charlie quickly diverted everyone’s attention, saving him from the embarrassment of them drawing attention to how awful he sounded. “Let’s open presents! I got something for everyone.” She started looking through the gifts under the tree, picking out the ones from her and handing them to their recipients. As she gave Alastor his, she quietly added, “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well today…”

“Dond’t worry about mbe,” he croaked, clearly beginning to lose his voice, “This is—snrff!—just a mbindor indcodvedience.” Everyone began opening their gifts, and Alastor unwrapped a box containing a new overcoat. It was the same style as his current ones, except it was a darker red with white sleeve cuffs, and it wasn’t torn along the bottom hem. The fabric felt thicker, too; perfect for keeping him warm during winter. “It looks wonderful, dear.”

“I’m so glad you like it!” Charlie beamed, giving him a quick hug before moving over to the others. He stiffened under her touch, but the added warmth made it much more bearable.

Lucifer sat down next to him. “So, did I do a good job decorating?”

His smile softened into something more admiring. “Showoff.”

“I wanted to make it feel more like your holiday celebrations on Earth. Is this what it was like when you were alive?”

His gaze scanned over the room. It looked nicer than his house ever did on Christmas, and New Orleans didn’t get much snow. Yet some things felt the same both in life and afterlife—he was with the closest thing he had to family, he was comfortable, he was being taken care of, and there was plenty of food waiting for him once he got his appetite back. He sniffled a few times and looked back at Lucifer. “It was something like this.”

[patheticandmiserable]

Heavy Is the Head that Wore the Crown

Sooo, y’all know how after Mas/ter/mind came out, a lot of us (myself absolutely included) really wanted to see Sto/las sick and Bli/tz caretaking?

Well, here’s 11.3k of my take on Sto/las waking up ill the morning after Mas/ter/mind, featuring Sto/las being kind of a pitiful mess, but also being so happy being taken care of and spending time with Bli/tzø; extremely attentive caretaking from Bli/tzø; a hellton (pun intended) of corny, mushy fluff; some angst here and there; and, ofc, snz, including stuck snz and a little bit of inducing (feathers and touch). Hope y’all enjoy!! ❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️

Note: I’ve been cooking since December 6th and hoping to finish this before the new episode came out, but it released earlier than I expected and I didn’t quite have time, so same day it is lmao. This does NOT contain any S/in/s/mas spoilers—guaranteed because I haven’t watched it quite yet lol. This absolutely has Mas/ter/mind spoilers though lmao

This was partially inspired by this post by @ghostlychill and the conversation we had in the replies—their ideas are so good as always! Also, the lovely @very-freakin-effable beta read for me and hyped me up to cook lmao, so tysm Effy! ❤️❤️❤️

CWs: Contagion (Bli/tz acts with zero regard for germs here like kissing him), extremely vague mention or two of mess, a little angsty in some places, and I threw a corny love confession in here on accident LMAO

18+ as always, minors DNI

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh, heyyy, mornin’,” Blitzø murmured softly, at Stolas’s side in an instant once he blinked his eyes open. The imp lit up with a mixture of excitement—he had hardly had a chance to speak to the other man after being reunited and it took much more than one day to resolve just how deeply he had missed him—and worry.

“Morning…” Stolas mumbled groggily, rubbing at his lower pair of eyes.

“How’re you, y’know… how’re you feeling?” Blitz asked gently. “You slept for a whiiile. Seemed like ya really needed it…” 

“Mmh, did I? I feel like I could still sleep another eight hours at least…” The admission was punctuated with a few dry coughs into a sweater-covered fist. 

“You okay?” came the immediate concern from Blitz, followed by placing a hand over one of Stolas’s. 

“Yes, I j—” Stolas began, faltering to clear his throat and grimacing slightly at the sore sensation as he swallowed. “I’m fine, Blitz.”

“All right. Y’ hungry? Loonie and I had pancakes earlier, but I can make you some fresh ones if you want,” Blitz offered, eager to do anything he could for him. After everything that happened over the last few months, his heart was overflowing with, well… love to express. 

“That’s very sweet,” Stolas replied with a grateful, tired smile. “Perhaps later… I don’t feel particularly hungry right now.”

“Yeahhh, that’s fair,” Blitz hummed, interlocking their fingers. “I, uh… I’m really glad you’re… here. Alive. Reeeeally fuckin’ scared me there for a minute…”

“I could really say the same to you, darling,” Stolas countered. That last word caused his hand to be squeezed tighter as Blitzø’s heart beat faster and flooded with warmth.

“Y’know, I, ah… I missed you, Stols. A lot.”

“Did you, now?” Stolas’s tone was difficult to place—perhaps some mixture of fondness, surprise, hope, and playfulness. Despite the moment, an itchy sort of irritation bloomed in the back of his sinuses, leaving him pawing at his nose with his free hand.

“Yeah. I don’t think I even have the words t—”

Despite his best efforts, Stolas’s eyes fluttered shut and he sucked in an urgent breath before turning away from Blitz and ducking into his elbow with a couple of sneezes. “Huhh-ehdtschh! IHGKTSCHieww!” It sounded a little heavier than the usual airiness, as if he was too drained to even sneeze normally.

“Damn you,” Blitzø offered softly, squeezing his hand tighter again.

Sniffling in the aftermath, Stolas scrubbed at his nose a little more and cleared his throat again—twice, actually, and not very easily. “Ugh, apologies,” he muttered, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as Blitz made no attempt to continue his train of thought. “I… didn’t mean to interrupt. You were saying…?”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Blitz dismissed, looking over him with eyes soft with sadness. “Are you… feeling okay? I-I mean, aside from… y’know… like—like you’re not comin’ down with a cold or somethin’ on me here… are ya? You kiiinda don’t sound too good…” 

“I’m all right. You really don’t need to worry so much, Blitz,” Stolas insisted, sitting up as if doing so would dissuade some of that concern. Still, he put a hand to his head as it ached slightly from the movement.

“C’mere, can I—? Lemme see,” Blitz murmured, hesitating for a moment before placing his free hand on Stolas’s forehead to feel him for fever. A sympathetic pout overtook him at the warmth and at the way the ex-prince leaned into his touch. “Yuuup… you don’t feel so hot to me, birdie…” he announced with a click of his tongue, letting his hand run back through the owl’s feathers affectionately.

“Isn’t not feeling warm a good thing here?” Stolas retorted with a raised eyebrow.

“No, I mean ‘don’t feel so hot’ as in sick, Stolas. You have a fever.”

“… Oh. Well, I honestly wouldn’t be too surprised if the loss of magic might cause some changes in temperature, you know,” Stolas mused, though he muffled a few more coughs into his sleeve.

“Maybe,” Blitz hummed, doubt obvious in his voice. “But I think you probably just caught some shit yesterday. Unless the, like, withdrawal or whatever just happens to have the exaaact same symptoms as a cold or flu.”

“Hmnh… I… I suppose you’re right,” Stolas conceded. He finally let go of Blitz’s hand and moved a little further away from him on the couch. “You should probably keep your distance for now, then, if you don’t want fall ihhh—i-ill,” he stuttered as another tickle sparked in the back of his nose, stealing his breath away into little gasps until he flinched down into the crook of his arm with the inevitable sneeze. “H-hehh! Hih! Ihhh—! IHPTSCHH’huu!”

“Damn y—”

Stolas hardly had a moment to sniffle before he let out a small, itchy whine or whimper as the need resurged overwhelmingly. “Anhh—! EHTschhhiew! Ihhgkt-kTDSCHH!… Ihgtsch’ah!… Nguhh, s-sorry…”

“Yeesh,” Blitz winced. “Damn you… yeah, that, uh… that definitely sounds like a cold ya got there, Stols.”

“Evidedtly,” Stolas sighed, the word sounding awfully stuffy. Those last sneezes left him sniffling damn near every second against his running nose.

“Hang on a sec,” Blitz muttered. He headed over the kitchen and pulled open a cabinet or two before finding what he was looking for. Tissue box in hand, he returned, handing it to Stolas and sitting down next to him on the couch. “Here. Somethin’ tells me you’re gonna need at least a full box or two, Sniffles.”

“Oh, umb, sndff, thangk you.” Stolas took a couple of tissues into his hands and tented them around the lower half of his face, turning away from Blitz to blow his nose as softly and politely as he could manage. Afterwards, he simply held the used tissues in one of his hands, looking around the room a little with an awkward hesitance.

“What’s up?” Blitzø asked, tilting his head in confusion. “Oh. Oh, you can just put it on the coffee table or whatever, I don’t really mind.” Seeing his bird only shrink in on himself further in discomfort, averting his eyes with utter mortification at the thought, Blitz quickly changed his mind. “Actually, y’know what, never mind,” he said with a slight chuckle, getting up off the couch once more.

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“Nope, it’s fine,” Blitz insisted, grabbing the trash can from the kitchen and bringing it over.

“Ah, uh… thank you.” Stolas tossed the tissues away and moved as far away from Blitz on the couch as he physically could once the imp sat back down next to him. He even pulled the blanket over his face a bit, holding it under his eyes. “You really should keep your distance from me until I’m well, Blitz... I think it’s quite clear I’m rather contagious at the moment, and I’d hate to get you sick.”

“Oh, fat fucking chance ‘a that. Are you kidding?” Blitzø snapped, giving the other demon an incredulous look.

“I, um… no?” Stolas answered despite the question being rhetorical, still hiding behind the blanket.

“Stolas, do you really think I give enough of a shit about maybe catching your little case of the sniffles to fuckin’ stay away from you for days after everything?” Blitz challenged.

“Well, I, ehm…”

“Look, you’re outta your mind if you think I’m not taking care of your feathered ass, m‘kay? I want to. And, frankly, I think you kinda need to be taken care of a bit after what happened yesterday,” Blitz explained, voice softening more and more as he spoke. For good measure, he leaned in a little closer and gave Stolas a gentle kiss on his feverish forehead, one of the few areas not blocked by the blanket anyways. “So, don’t worry about me. Let me worry about you for a little while, all right?”

“O…kay,” Stolas relented, letting the blanket fall to his torso. His eyes softened before welling a little bit with tears.

“Shit, did I—did I say something wrong?” Blitz faltered, sitting back. He fought the instinct to finish the question with “again.”

“N-no, not at all. It’s just… It truly means a lot to me, Blitz,” Stolas admitted, blinking against the forming tears. “You haven’t been doing all this just to… repay me, are you? Not taking it as some sort of, er… transaction…?” he asked, fidgeting with his hands.

“Wha—? Hell, no,” Blitz replied, “I mean, I’m grateful, of course, and it’d be shitty of me to not try to help you with the prices you paid to save my ass…” He saw Stolas glance downwards, so he held his hand again. “But that’s not why I’m doing any of this,” he continued, causing the owl to meet his gaze again. “I wanna do whatever I can for you because I care about you, Stolas.”

Stolas’s eyes widened and the tears finally began to overflow. He rarely fell speechless, but he couldn’t risk missing a single word that Blitz spoke at the moment.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to really realize it, but I’ve cared about you so much for a long time, okay?” Blitzø emphasized, cupping Stolas’s cheek with his free hand and wiping away his tears with his thumb. “I love you, Stols.”

That drew something between a small gasp and a sob from Stolas, and if the dam had been leaking, it was shattered now, tears pouring down his round face in twin rivers. The stress of the prior day and present fever did him no favors in keeping tears at bay.

“Hey, hey, hey, I gotcha,” Blitzø soothed, pulling him into a tight embrace and holding him as he sobbed over his shoulder. His heart ached in his chest from seeing Stolas cry, even if it was for something good. “I gotcha, birdie, okay? S’okay. I know it’s been a lot to process lately. Just leeeet it out, I gotcha.”

Unfortunately, Stolas’s cold-ridden throat and lungs didn’t exactly appreciate the all-consuming sobs that he shook with, and he soon found himself thrown into a rather harsh coughing fit. Though he wanted nothing more than to hold onto his beloved as tightly as he could, he let go of Blitz to bury his face into both hands, trying his best to contain the fit—and, perhaps more importantly, the germs—to ensure he didn’t cough on the imp. 

“Shit. Ya caught somethin’ pretty nasty, huh? Poor bird,” Blitz fretted, rubbing circles in Stolas’s back like he’d seen M&M do with each other. He still hugged him close, but he tried to be gentle enough as to not constrict his lover’s chest at all—he was already having enough trouble as it was.

“Fuck,” Stolas gasped out, struggling to catch his breath. “I’m—” he croaked, illness stealing his voice away from him for more coughs. “I’m sorry,” he finally got out.

“Hey, don’t be. You’re not doing anything wrong. Just try to take it easy, okay? You’re gonna be okay,” Blitzø reassured gently.

After a little longer, Stolas’s coughing slowed and eased, and he was able to recover at last.

“You good, Stols?” Blitz asked, voice hardly more than a whisper.

“Yes, I-I think so,” Stolas confirmed with a sniffle, pulling away from the embrace and drying all four of his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. “I, erm… I’m afraid I might not be able to find all the words I would have wanted to say right now...”

“You’ve already told me a lot of them, remember?” Blitzø remarked with a fond smile. “I know. You can say alllll the sappy shit you wanna when your brain isn’t being cooked alive with stress and fever, m‘kay?”

“I will,” Stolas assured with a huff of laughter. “But, for now…” He took Blitz’s hands into his own. “I love you too, darling… always,” he whispered, voice overflowing with pure sincerity and warmth and… relief, really. To punctuate his words, he brought one of Blitz’s hands up to his beak for a tender kiss, sending an even deeper blush across the imp’s cheeks. “You know, if I weren’t so disgusting right now, I would kiss you properly,” he joked, tilting his head to the side and looking down at Blitz’s lips for a moment.

“Well, then, it’s a good thing you’re not disgusting, pretty bird,” Blitzø retorted, pulling Stolas down by the collar of his borrowed sweater into a long kiss—not of lust, as they had shared countless times prior, but a gentler sort of kiss.

One out of love.

Once their lips parted, Stolas smiled fondly and remarked, “Well, so much for not getting you sick, dear.”

“Totally fuckin’ worth it,” Blitz responded with a grin of his own. “I’ll wash the germs down with some orange juice or whatever. Vitamin C, right?” he added with a shrug before standing up.

“I doubt it’ll be quite effective enough, but it certainly doesn’t hurt to give it a shot.”

“Can I, like, make you some tea or anythin’ while I’m up? Some warm tea with honey might help a lil with that cough ‘a yours,” Blitzø suggested.

“That sounds lovely,” Stolas replied warmly despite the shiver that ran down his spine. He wrapped the blanket over himself more thoroughly and sniffled.

By the time the tea was ready—ginger with a hefty helping of honey—Blitzø had already chugged a glass of orange juice and Stolas had gone through several more tissues, though neither was particularly effective. Congestion was settling into the ill owl’s sinuses, much to his discomfort, and no matter how much he tried to blow his nose, he was still hopelessly sniffly.

“Here ya go. Careful, it’s pretty hot,” Blitzø warned as he handed Stolas the mug of tea and sat down next to him again. Not too long ago would he have had no such concerns. But it was impossible to forget by now that Stolas could get hurt, and suddenly the assumptions of his powers had been replaced by a desire to, frankly, treat him like he was made of glass.

“Thangk you, darli’g,” Stolas hummed gratefully. While he waited for it to cool down enough to drink, he still relished the warmth on his hands. The steam made his nose run, but that was good considering that it was easing the stuffiness that plagued him.

“You seem real happy just holdin’ that,” Blitzø observed with a snicker.

“Oh, umb, snff. Hodestly, I thingk the steamb’s helpi’g loosend the congestiond idn mby, umb, snff, idn mby siduses,” Stolas explained. He blew his nose—much more usefully so than before—and resumed holding the warm mug in front of his face with both his hands.

“Yeahhh, you sound like ya reeeally need that,” Blitz teased with an amused scoff. However, he quirked his brows in a mixture of concern and confusion as he noticed Stolas’s gaze grow distant and unfocused, the bird seeming a little dazed. “You good?” 

Instead of replying, Stolas’s eyes screwed shut and an awfully ticklish expression overcame his delicate features as he took in a sharp, shaky inhale.

Blitzø winced and he muttered a rushed, firm, “Oh, nope, gimme that,” taking the mug of tea from the other demon just before—

“Heh’IHDTSCHHhhiew!! Ah-hah—! IHPTSCHhhh!! —EHDTSCHh!” Stolas sneezed into the crook of his arm, forceful and vocal, yet still remaining higher-pitched and airy. “S-sorry…” he mumbled with a sniffle, voice somewhat muffled by the fabric of his sweater.

“Y’know, you don’t hafta keep apologizing just for fuckin’ sneezing. It’s not exactly like you can help it and, I mean, you’re sick… That’s kinda to be expected, don’tcha think?” Blitzø pointed out, setting the tea down safely onto the coffee table.

Stolas gave him a shy look for a moment before his eyes fluttered shut again, and he buried his face into his sleeve, even holding his arm in place with his other hand. “Hehhhhh… eihhDTSCHh’ah! Oh, heh-hehh-heavens— ihHGKTSCHhhiew!” Those last sneezes were starting to get a bit wetter, much to his displeasure, so he plucked a few tissues from the box and pressed them to his face as his breath hitched helplessly.

“Yeahhhh, I’m glad I yoinked this shit,” Blitz commented, tapping on the ceramic mug with a clink, “from you before ya ended up fucking wearing it.”

“Ihhh-gTSCH’uhh! —IHDtschh! —Kdtshh! —Kschh! —Ihptshh! Fuhh-huck— hUH’dtschhhue!” 

“Christ on a fuck-ing stick, Stolas. Damn you?” Blitzø faltered, grimacing in concern. “I, uh, think you mighta loosened things up a liiittle too well there.”

“Perhah-hahhps— hIHDTSCHhh’ihh! Ah’kdtshh!… Ihh… h-heh…” After a moment of indecision, he sucked in a deep, urgent breath—“hiiinh!”—and pitched forward into his hands with a particularly vocal sneeze that sounded like it scraped against his sore throat—which it did. “IHDZZTshhyiu!” He let out a slight groan of pain and placed one of his hands over the front of his neck until the discomfort subsided.

“Awh, that last one sounded kinda like it hurt,” Blitzø cooed in sympathy, placing a comforting hand on Stolas’s back.

“Oh, it did…” Stolas confirmed nonchalantly. “IhHPKTSCHh’uh! Ahh-hah—EHgktschhiew!” This set of tissues was starting to get rather well used, so he wiped his running nose on them and discarded them in favor of three or four more.

“Mayyybe I should drink some more orange juice after all,” Blitz contemplated, not even half joking. Part of him felt the instinct to move a little further away in hopes of avoiding the same unpleasant fate. However, the entire rest of him demanded to be as close as possible to his bird now that he was here, especially since he was feeling so poorly.

“Heh’IHgtschh!”

“This fuckin’ cold’s doin’ one hell of a number on ya, huh, birdie?”

Stolas shivered with a quite pitchy sneeze before he could respond. “Iehh’dtschhiewww! I’d, umb, really rah-hather it ndot, to be hondest…” he admitted through ticklish breaths. As he felt his body be utterly overwhelmed once again, so much so that he could feel irritated tears leak from his eyes, he exhaled a run-together “ohfuck—” under his breath and took in a sudden gasp of air. “EiihtSCHhh!”

“Daaamn you, sheesh. Poor baaaby,” Blitzø pitied, brushing the feathers out of his lover’s fever flushed face and letting his hand trail down to his back, remaining there as a display of comfort and concern.

“Hih’kDDTsch! I’m finde, really,” Stolas insisted, though his exhaustion was audible in his voice. “I just— ihhPTSCH’ehh! C-caahh’HTSCHhiew! Cadn’t quite stop.”

“Really? You don’t say,” Blitz deadpanned. “This ain’t really what I’d call ‘fine,’ though, Stols.”

“It’s just… ihh-hih!” Stolas lowered his pile of tissues a little below his nose so that he could fan lightly at his face with his other hand to encourage the prickling in his sinuses to actually amount to something rather than just uncomfortably teasing him. “Indcondvediendt, mbostly… huhhhh… hh… Oh, for Lucifer’s s-sake…”  

“C’mon, ya almost got it,” Blitz coaxed playfully. The reminder of having a live audience for such a mortifying little display only deepened the blush across his lover’s fever-rouged cheeks.

Fanning his face was helping the poor bird a little, but he still couldn’t quite get himself over the edge. After a few more seconds of useless hitching, he sniffled and was caught off guard when that was the final straw that provoked his oh-so-irritated nerves past their breaking point at last. “Eiihhh—!!” There it was. “Heht-kTCHSHhieww!!”

“There ya go!”

“Ihhgktchiew! —hHTschiew!… Nguhhh, fidnally…” Stolas sighed, reveling in the overdue relief for a blissful moment. “… As I was sayi’g, it’s really nothi’g to, sndff, sndddff, to worry about, darli’g. Just…” He trailed off a little, his voice falling distant and breathy as yet another sneeze brewed in his cold-ridden sinuses. “Very… t-tihhhckly—HIHDTschhh!” It wasn’t exactly an unconvincing claim by any means—he’d been constantly proving that for quite a while now.

“It’s been, like, two full minutes at the fuckin’ least. I think ‘tickly’ ‘s kiiinda an understatement at this point,” Blitz countered with a raised eyebrow.

“Fair poindt…” Stolas conceded, throwing away another handful of tissues. Several seconds of silence passed, filled only by ill little sniffles.

“I don’t wanna jinx you or anythin’, but did’ya finally get it all outta your system?” Blitzø asked hesitantly.

“I certaindly hope so,” Stolas huffed in response. “Snddf… mby ndose does still feel sombewhat, ehm, itchy, but I thingk…” He scrunched up his delicate features a bit as he felt an all too familiar sensation spread down his sinuses, tickling at every millimeter of sensitive skin in its wake. “Ndo, ndo, ndever mbind,” he corrected, sounding particularly fragile, “I do still ndeed to… enhh! Ndeed to s-sndeehhze—”

“How the fuck are you not out of those yet? I don’t think you’re gonna have any germs left in you to spread.” 

Stolas’s expression fell desperate just before half of it was covered by a fresh couple of tissues. “IyhHPTCH’uhh! Iht’tschieww! Ughh… huhh—! Hihhdtsch!… Eh’kdtshh… nghhh… ihgtsch…” The fit tapered off in intensity and volume, the last few sneezes nearly as soft as a whisper, his shoulders hardly flinching with them at all.

“Damn you.”

“Thangk you, darli’g,” he murmured before blowing his nose. 

“Ya good now?” Blitz checked in.

“Umb…” Stolas took a moment to mull it over, giving a few experimental sniffles. “Yes. I believe so.”

“Halle-fuckin’-lujah,” Blitz scoffed. He hesitated a moment before asking, “Hey, that’s not, like… somehow related to losing your powers, is it? I mean, it’s not the kinda shit I woulda normally kept tabs on, buuut I don’t think I’ve ever really seen you sneeze like that before.”

“It’s… possible,” Stolas pondered. “I don’t think we could really know for certain, but this does seem to be, um, snddff, coming on rather strong, and quite quickly at that.”

“Sure seems like it, yeah.”

“It could be exacerbated because I’m in a, ahm… more weakened state than I’m used to or the, well, stress, but it might just be a particularly dreadful cold,” Stolas mused before blowing his nose yet again.

“Mayyybe all of the above. I’m gonna see if Loonie can pick up some more tissues and shit after work,” Blitz decided, grabbing his phone and entering into his text history with Loona. “I get the feeling you’re gonna need a lotta them.”

“You will too if you insist on staying this close to me all day, you know,” Stolas pointed out with a fond smirk. His tea was plenty cool enough to drink now, so he sipped at it slowly, relishing the warm drink of ginger and honey on his sore throat.

“Y’know what? Good point, actually, I’ll text her to get extra,” Blitz replied with a slight chuckle, beginning to draft a message. “D’you want anything else from the store? Any, like, specific kinda tea or meds or soup or anythin’?”

“Oh, ehm… perhaps a few things, if it’s not too much trouble,” came the shy but appreciative answer.

Once that was settled, Loona replied:

<[sure. u sick?]

[stols sick]>

[bd cld prob]>

<[ah shit. tell him i hope he feels better]

[he says thx]>

[b crful hr when u get back]>

[im prob gnna gt it 2]>

[but dnt wan u to gt sick]>

<[yikes]

<[thx for the heads up]

<[gl dad]

[<333]>

Any time Loona called Blitz “dad,” it brought a wide warm smile to his face. “All set,” he announced. “You sure I can’t interest you in some soup or anythin’ in the meantime?”

“I suppose so,” Stolas agreed.

“Good,” Blitz hummed, pressing a soft kiss to the other’s forehead before frowning and feeling the warm skin with his hand. “We should probably take your temp too. Doesn’t seem too bad, but I still wanna get a number on this shit pronto.” With that, he stood and headed to the kitchen.

“It’s probably best to wait until after I eat then,” Stolas noted. After a few wet coughs directed into his fist, he drank some more tea in hopes of soothing his throat. Clearing his throat, he continued, “It’s recommended to wait a little while after eating or drinking since it can bias the results, and, well…” He trailed off, taking another sip of his tea to demonstrate.

“Eh, makes sense, I guess,” Blitzø conceded with a shrug. He filled a bowl with a canned chicken noodle soup with star-shaped noodles—which was not originally bought for Stolas, but was bought because it reminded Blitz of him.

After I.M.P.’s mission to Antarctica in the middle of a blizzard, all three assassins had come down with quite terrible colds, and when Blitz saw the little star designs while picking up some soup… He couldn’t resist, not when he had been missing Stolas so, so deeply. Fortunately, he still had extras to share, albeit only because he may or may not have bought every single can of it they had at that grocery store at the time.

While the soup warmed in the microwave, he opened a kitchen cabinet and retrieved a box of crackers. His lips curled into a playful, self-satisfied grin, and he looked over to Stolas and got his attention. “Hey, Stols?”

“Yes?” Stolas asked, meeting his gaze from over his mug of tea.

“Polly want a cracker~?” Blitz asked teasingly. He shook the box like it was a bag of dog treats.

At the silly little joke, Stolas scoffed in some mixture of fond exasperation and amusement that left a smile lingering on his beak. “Yes, honestly, that sounds lovely with some soup,” he replied.

“Hah! Knew it,” came the unwarranted boast in return, quickly followed by the sounds of crackers falling into a bowl.

The soup was sufficiently hot a minute later, so Blitzø brought it and the bowl of crackers over to the coffee table, rejoining his lover on the couch. “Aight, here ya go,” he hummed as he set everything down. His voice lowered into something between a warning and lighthearted teasing as he added, “And I fuckin’ swear to Satan, Stols, if I have to stop you from spilling this shit like before—”

“Oh, settle down, it was fine,” Stolas protested, embarrassment rouging his cheeks.

“It was sooo not,” Blitzø insisted with a sweep of his hand through the air. 

“Oh. These are fun,” Stolas remarked as he held up a spoonful of the soup that contained one of its star-shaped noodles. “I actually have something quite similar, myself, at h—” His jovial tone suddenly wilted away on his tongue as it came to mind that he had lost his lifelong home. He broke eye contact and cleared his throat, his gaze falling back down to the soup, which he set back down on the table.  “… Had at the, ehm… palace,” he corrected, trailing off a little and blinking against the slight wetness forming in his eyes, but clearly attempting to steel himself against the thoughts that swirled through his head anew. 

“… Well, I’m glad I have something ya like, then,” Blitzø replied with a small, reassuring smile. “You wanna maybe watch a movie or anythin’, Stolas?” he suggested, knowing damn well that he, himself, had kept himself distracted from emotional distress with media many a time, the most recent being while he wasn’t on speaking terms with the bird in front of him.

“Really?” Stolas blurted out, looking over at the imp with wide eyes filled with surprise and a hint of hope.

“Y-Yeah, if you wanna, I have plenty ‘a bangers here,” Blitz responded, caught a little off guard.

An absolute tidal wave of excitement and joy flooded over Stolas, his hands raising up to cover his mouth with his fingertips as he smiled widely. Although many could have considered it a somewhat insignificant activity, he had daydreamed of having a little movie night with Blitz for quite some time, and his heart raced in his feathered chest at getting to have so much time spent nonsexually together with his beloved. 

“Yeahh, I’m taking that as a ‘yes,’” Blitz chuckled, heart melting a little at the adorable sight. “What’re ya in the mood for?” he asked.

“Oh, I don’t mind—anything’s fine, really. Perhaps something romantic or… one of your personal favorites?” Stolas answered hurriedly, his grin extremely audible in his voice.

“I mean, if you want my favorite, I couuuld show you the fuckin’ best movie of all time in any realm ever,” Blitzø tempted, a smile spreading across his face as well.

“That sounds lovely!” Stolas agreed immediately. He closed his hands into loose fists that he shook back and forth a little in overflowing excitement, accompanied by avian cheeps that were hardly more than small squeaks as he looked between Blitz and the TV over and over again as the imp queued up the movie, Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron.

However, once the movie was ready to begin, Blitz set the remote down and began, “All right, hold up, before we watch though, Stolas…”

“Hm?”

Blitz’s expression melted like a chocolate covered strawberry in a lover’s mouth, and he cupped Stolas’s cheek with one hand and rested the other on his forearm. “C’mere for a sec, birdie, you’re being wayyy too fucking cute over there, and that can’t fuckin’ stand,” he murmured softly, pulling him in for a gentle, tender kiss that lasted for several seconds. Stolas’s arms found their way around Blitz once more, his hands on the back of the other’s head and just below his shoulder.

When the kiss ended, Stolas cooed owlishly and nuzzled down against his horns affectionately, Blitz joining in immediately. As they pulled away, they shared a meaningful, adoring look, Stolas’s pale pupils even shifting into the shape of hearts.

“You gotta stop being so adorable on me here, pretty bird. I kinda can’t take this shit,” Blitz whispered, hand still cupping Stolas’s cheek.

Stolas leaned into his touch with another avian little trill. “You’re one to talk,” he countered softly.

“How am I gonna focus on the movie, huh?” Blitz asked rhetorically, guiding him in for another delicate kiss.

And yet, the second their noses brushed against each other, Stolas lost the kiss as his lips parted with a ticklish hitch. His nostrils flared a bit as the brief contact sent irritation spreading up his currently oh-so-sensitive nasal passages. Gentle but firm, he pushed Blitz away from him with one hand on his shoulder, bringing his other up to fan at his face for a brief moment as he turned away.

“Hehhh-IHGTschh!” he sneezed into his hand, desperate and vocal even in the initial inhale, his grip tightening a little on Blitz’s shoulder to steady himself.

“Aaaand that’s how,” Blitzø joked with an amused scoff.

“Eihh-huh—! IHDTschieww! Sorry, I—hih! D-didn’t mean toooh—hah-aah—!” Stolas tried to control his breathing long enough to get the apology out, but his body had other priorities. He removed his hand from Blitz’s shoulder so he could bury his face into both of his palms. “Ehhtschhieww! —IHPTSCH! Didn’t mbeand to, uhhhm… huhh-hih! Ruin the mbombedt… ehh’kTSHH!” 

“Ain’t your fault,” Blitz reassured with a chuckle. “Damn you.”

“Th-hhangk y-you—eHDTschieww! Ughhh, fuck…” Stolas sighed in relief as his shoulders finally relaxed. Even after several wet sniffles, he didn’t lower his hands from his face.

“You done?” Blitz asked, quirking his eyebrows in confusion.

“Yes, I just, umb…” He trailed off and turned yet further away from Blitz, cheeks burning with a healthy dose of humiliation.

“Ohh,” Blitz hummed in realization. He snickered and insisted, “Oh, c’mon, it’s fine. I literally blow people’s fuckin’ brains out for a living.” Being met with no response other than continual thick sniffles, he got off the couch and nudged the tissue box on the coffee table closer to Stolas. “Y’knowww, I need popcorn for the movie anyway,” he decided, heading into the kitchen to give his bird a moment to tidy himself up without an audience. He took a little more time to procure his snack than need be, and brought back a bowl for Stolas too.

“You ready to watch?” Blitz asked once he returned.

“Oh, um, yes,” Stolas agreed before taking another bite of his soup. As Blitz held out one of the two bowls of popcorn to him, he shook his head a little. “I think I’m all set already, but thank you, darling.”

“Aight, more for me,” Blitz shrugged, before happily shoveling an ungodly amount of the fluffy snack into his maw.

“Shall we?” Stolas prompted, gesturing towards the TV.

“Oh, you bet your pretty little ass we fuckin’ shall,” Blitz practically purred. He leaned back onto the couch, resting his head behind his hand, and shrugged. “I gotta warn you though, Stols, you’re about to get your. Shit. Fucking. Rocked. All right? Y’ understand me here?”

Stolas stifled a laugh behind his hand and replied, “I see—”

“No, you don’t. Ya can’t understand this shit till you see it, ‘kay?” Blitz refuted.

“High praise indeed.”

“Damn right, it’s what it deserves,” Blitz affirmed.

Stolas giggled a little at the enthusiasm, but it quickly dissolved into a coughing fit directed into his fist that drained his smile into a weary grimace as he shook slightly with it. At the tail end of it, he sucked in a hissing breath at the surge of pain in his sore throat as some coughs scraped against it. At least another spoonful of warm soup helped soothe the soreness a little. 

“You okay?” Blitz asked, eyes softening.

“Yes… or, well, as ‘okay’ as one could be given the circumstances, I suppose,” Stolas admitted with a tired smile.

“Hey, that’s all I could ask for, birdie,” Blitz assured. He wrapped the blanket around Stolas a little cozier and leaned against his shoulder, his lover resting his head against his horns in turn, and pressed play on the TV remote.

For the first 12 minutes of the movie, Stolas watched with apt attention, seeming quite invested and engrossed in every scene, even softly exclaiming an “oh. Oh, dear” at one particularly tense moment. While those minutes were filled with an alternation of running commentary from Blitz and “shhh, shut up a sec, this is a really good part”s from him as well, it was remarkable that he had waited over ten minutes without asking for Stolas’s current opinion on it… but he didn’t make it to 15.

“Soooo… whatcha think so far?” Blitzø prompted, an almost childlike quality to his excited tone, awaiting his answer with an unwavering gaze and his tail swinging back and forth behind him not unlike a dog might wag their own tail.

“Oh! Hmm. Well…” Stolas began, contemplating the question as deeply as he could since it was obvious that his response was important to Blitz. “We’ve only just started, really, but so far, I’ve been enjoying it quite a bit!” His lover’s smile widened and his tail began moving faster as the bird continued, “The animation is rather expressive and fun to watch—very fascinating how they’ve chosen to draw the horses, especially, since many prefer to simplify their forms a great deal. The characters and their dynamics are entertaining. What we’ve seen of the story seems engaging, and I am interested in seeing how it progresses. I’m sure I’ll have more detailed thoughts as the movie progresses, if you’d like, but yes, I quite like it so far.”

“That…” Blitz took his hand in both of his own. “… Was the hottest thing you’ve ever fucking said to me,” he murmured with an enamored smirk. It wasn’t a lie, but the term he actually meant was more along the lines of endearing—“hottest” was more easily accessible to him, though, and it wasn’t inaccurate either.

“Oh, um… is it really?” Stolas faltered, blinking in surprise. Any more words were stolen from his beak by Blitz’s lips as he was pulled tenderly into a kiss, feeling the imp’s fingers lose themselves in the feathers on the back of his head.

“Kinda, yeah,” Blitz admitted with a shrug. “But no one I’ve showed it to has ever liked it much aside from Millie, sorta, and I-I mean, Verosika, I fuckin’ guess, but mostly just ‘cause I liked it so much, y’know? Hardly anyone else has actually been into it at all ‘cause they have shit taste or whatever, apparently.”

“I see. Well, rest assured that I do like it for what it is… at least for the first 15 minutes we’ve gotten to so far,” Stolas stated with a small fond smile. He let out a soft “oh!” as he found himself suddenly pulled down into another kiss. Chuckling in its aftermath, he asked, “Are you sure you won’t regret all this tomorrow when you end up ill?”

“No,” Blitz answered simply.

“I—well…” Stolas faltered, blinking in confusion. “‘No’ as in you aren’t sure or ‘no’ as in you won’t regret it?” 

“Eh, one of those,” Blitz replied with a shrug. “Probably both, honestly.”

“Hm. Fair enough.” He snuggled even closer.

Halfway through the movie, Blitzø paused it—at an acceptable moment where it wouldn’t impede the full experience to him—and turned to his lover with a suggestion.

“Oh, wait, hang on a sec. We should reeeally check in on the fever cookin’ that birdbrain ‘a yours,” Blitz began, pausing to tap Stolas on the forehead—more of a poke, really, that resulted in all four vermillion eyes blinking in surprise. He continued, “Sooner than later. It’s probably been long enough for that shit, ain’t it? To, like, take your temp without the reading being kinda…” He twirled his hand a few times as he searched for the right phrasing before simply shrugging and ending up with, “… fucky or whatever?”

“Oh, um, yes, it should be!” Stolas affirmed, though he seemed a little… hesitant. Nervous, perhaps? “Although, I doubt it’ll tell us anything we don’t already know. It’s just a touch of cold, nothing to worry about, darling.” 

“I mean, it’ll just take a sec, sooo… why not?” Blitz retorted, quirking his eyebrows in suspicion. Now, while he had quite the poor track record of reading Stolas’s true feelings and intentions in the past, he was starting to get much better at it, and he had plenty of experience with Stolas backtracking like this to know when there was prooobably some underlying reason behind it that he wasn’t spilling.

“Well… we’re in the middle of the movie. There’s no need to interrupt it, now, is there?” Stolas persisted with a placating smile.

“I already did,” Blitz countered with a gesture towards the paused television screen. “So, what’s the problem?” As Stolas opened his mouth to respond, the imp cut him off, preemptively clarifying, “The actual problem, Stols.”

Stolas sighed. “I suppose I just… I don’t want you to have reason to worry more than you already are,” he admitted, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. “… And I’m not so sure I want the reminder of being so… fragile all of a sudden.” He shrank in on himself a little further, holding the blanket around his shoulders a little tighter.

“Oh... Stolas, c’mon, that’s fuckin’ bullshit,” Blitzø dismissed. Realizing he came off slightly harsher than he intended, he quickly added, “I mean… look, I’m gonna worry about you no matter what right now, ‘kay? And that ain’t a bad thing. It’s better to just know how you’re actually feeling. I don’t want you downplaying shit or anything, all right?”

“… All right…”

“I know it kinda sucks, but… you’re gonna be sick whether or not a little piece of fuckin’ plastic spits out some number. Sooo, ya gonna let me take care of my birdie or what?”

“I suppose I should,” Stolas relented softly, resting his head against Blitz’s shoulder and smiling at being referred to as his at long last. 

“Hey, now, that’s what I like to hear!” Blitzø remarked triumphantly. He pressed a brief kiss to Stolas’s cheek before heading to the kitchen to retrieve the thermometer, returning a minute later with the little digital device in hand. “Aight, say ‘ah’ or whatever the the fuck,” he instructed, holding out the metal-tipped end of the thermometer.

Despite giving the imp a blatantly unimpressed look, Stolas went along with it, opening his beak and humming an “aaah” that, upon the thermometer being shoved way too far into his mouth, quickly deteriorated into an owlish squawk of distress and a series of coughs that started out dry and uncovered but ended wet and directed into his fist. Now, normally, his gag reflex was essentially nonexistent—much to Blitz’s… satisfaction—however, his throat was already quite irritated, barely in a flimsy state of peace to begin with, so it didn’t exactly appreciate the sudden jab to say the very least.

“Shit, sorry,” Blitzø muttered with a wince, taking a step back. “… You good?”

“Ye—” The poor bird couldn’t even get a single word out until at least another 15 seconds of coughing. Once he was finally able to recover, he let out a somewhat miserable-sounding groan. It took him a couple of attempts to successfully clear his throat. “I’m fine,” he reassured at last.

“Good, uh… my bad… Leeet’s try this again, shall we?” Blitz prompted, holding out the thermometer again.

“Oh, just give me that already!” Stolas snapped in exasperation, snatching the thermometer straight from the other demon’s hand and gently placing it under his tongue… how it was supposed to be used. Frankly, it was almost impressive how badly Blitz had somehow managed to fuck it up. He folded his arms, but his pout easily dissolved into a small smile just looking at the imp in front of him. Even so, he tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the device to finish, still feeling a bit anxious about its prospective results.

Blitzø, to be fair, was worried about the results as well. He tried to play it off, but his tail made it quite obvious by flicking back and forth behind him. Regardless, he felt it best not to just stare and watch as the half-minute passed by extraordinarily slowly. All of a sudden, he found himself quite inclined to inspect certain scratches in the coffee table, the frozen frame of Spirit on the TV, the pretty pattern of light shining through both the winter clouds and the windows… Yet, he was immediately pulled out of his attempts to busy himself by a sound, but not the one he was waiting for—rather, the sharp, shaky stutter of breath that he was starting to get very used to hearing from a certain someone juuust before he—

“HiehHh—! Ih’kkt!”

Yup. Sure enough, Blitz looked back to see Stolas hunching in on himself with a well-stifled sneeze—much more in line with what the imp had typically observed of him in the past, actually, as long as he wasn’t too overwhelmed to contain and minimize it as best he could, but Stolas had been quite literally too sick and tired to bother today—one hand ensuring the thermometer stayed in place and the other pressed firmly against his cold-rouged nares. ^

“Oh, damn you… I… I think? To be honest, I’m not 100% sure that shit counted as a real sneeze, y’know,” Blitz joked. Instead of the usual “ugh, thank you, darling” he tended to get in response, all he was met with were a few hazy blinks of dimly-glowing eyes—only the lower two, at that, his secondary set of eyes still squeezed shut in irritation, though it seemed it wouldn’t take long until the remaining two flickered closed as well—before his eyebrows drew together in an unsteady, unstable sort of desperation, and his expression crumbled despite his attempts to placate his nose by pressing the side of his hand harder against it.

“Hh’gkkt! —mmkxt!”

“Yeeesh, damn you again. Thaaat’s starting to sound a little painful there…” Blitz began hesitantly with a sympathetic wince. “Y’sure you don’t wanna just, like… let it out normally or whatever instead of waiting for that fuckin’ thing to—”

Apparently, threats worked, since the thermometer interrupted him by emitting a few high-pitched beeps to signal that it was done processing.

Blitz quickly changed his tune, correcting in what seemed almost like offense, “Well, never fuckin’ mind, I guess. Speak of the Devil and all that shit.”

Much less able to provide any sort of snark in the moment, Stolas took the thermometer out of his mouth, holding it a little bit away from him and ducking into the crook of his other arm. “Iehh’dTSCHH! Eh… hehh—! ITSCHhue! Ughhh… Hh-hih… hyihhh!”

“… Look, I wanna see what the thermometer ended up with, buuut are you gonna fuckin’ sneeze on me if I come within a one foot radius?”

Stolas shook his head in response, albeit it wasn’t overly convincing as his breath still jumped in his chest and he buried his face into the sleeve of his borrowed sweater once again, muffling more illness-induced sneezes into the knitted fabric. “Heht-mKTSHhiew! Ihdtsch!” However, he did hold the thermometer out further away from him, at least, which was quite helpful!

“Oookay, lemme just,” Blitz mumbled to himself, hesitating another second before quickly taking the thermometer and pulling his hand back like he’d just touched a hot stove. After looking at the little display for a moment, he smiled in relief. “Oh. Well, whaddya know, that’s actually not high at all,” he announced in a much more upbeat tone. “Looks like ya might be gettin’ off a little easier than we thought, and I know a lot about getting you off, so…” He smirked and trailed off with a shrug.

“Oh, really?” Stolas asked as he rubbed at his nose, hope practically radiating from his voice.

“Yeah, it—”

“Oh—heh!—for fuck’s sake,” Stolas murmured under his breath, which was starting to catch yet again as his sinuses still protested their very existence, apparently. He grabbed a tissue, but kept scrubbing at his nares with his other hand in futile hopes of soothing his nose into passivity. Unfortunately, but predictably, his efforts were to no avail, and he felt all pretenses of control slip from his grasp as the growing irritation in his sinuses became overwhelming, causing his breath to flutter in his feathered chest despite his attempts to steady it. “I’mb terribly sorry, give mbe aah-hahh…”

“A moment?” Blitz guessed with a snicker. “Yeahhh, tell ya what, you can have a few of those on the fuckin’ house,” he joked, folding his arms and watching with a sympathetic grimace as Stolas turned further away from him and buried his face into the tissue in his hands.

“Hehh-hhgk! IHPTschieww! Huhh… uhh! IHDTschhh! —kTSHhh!… Nguhh, beg your pardond, darli’g… I really mbust apologize for all the, umb, sndff, indterruptionds.” He cringed a little at the horribly congested sound of his voice and softly blew his nose not once but twice before composing himself once more. 

“Look, I usually like it when you beg, buuut ya know ya don’t have to apologize just for bein’ sick, right?” Now that his worries had been abated somewhat, Blitzø’s tongue was free to grow a little bit sharper, a little more playful as was his standard, but the question came across as wholly genuine nonetheless. Frankly, he meant it quite literally. He kind of had a feeling that, at least on some level, Stolas did believe that he had to apologize for any impropriety or lack of composure—really that he felt a need to minimize himself for the preferences of others in general. ^

A little too enthusiastically to be believable, Stolas agreed, “Right, sorr—…” He cut himself off, averting his gaze in some insecurity from proving Blitz’s point immediately and clearing his throat. “W-Well, you know what they say about old habits,” he remarked rather sheepishly with a small smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “But that aside, the, erm… the fever, dear?”

“Oh, yeah, it just said 111.7. Not high at all right now, so that’s pretty good,” Blitzø announced casually, sitting back down onto the couch and leaning back against his arm.

A flicker of confusion crossed Stolas’s fair features, quickly replaced by disappointment and reluctance as he faltered, “Oh, ehm… hmm… I… I hate to put a damper on things, Blitz, but I run colder than most imps, remember? Demons tend to run hotter the lower the ring?”

“Ohhh… riiiight,” Blitz winced. “What’s… What’s your normal at, again?” he asked hesitantly, tapping his fingers against his lap as a wave of anxiety washed over him anew.

“About 107.8 on a typical day. So, this fever would be roughly equivalent to, ehm… around 114.9°F for you, probably.”

Honestly, a part of Blitz was almost distracted for a moment, impressed that Stolas was able to keep numbers straight in his head while feverish. However, the utter riptide of concern took precedence. “Oh, shit… You’re really not feeling so good, huh, pretty bird?” he murmured. His eyes softened and his voice naturally fell into that oh-so-gentle sincerity once again, a rare honor that few others witnessed in… perhaps over a decade by now. 

“No, I… I’m really not,” Stolas admitted, shoulders slumping. “Truthfully, I’ve been feeling worse and worse as the day’s gone on, and it’ll likely only get worse, still, for at least another day or two before even starting to improve. And it’s very… strange. To experience this sort of thing without the benefits of, um, of my magic, I mean… It feels different.”

“Different in what way?”

“Worse?” Stolas offered with a halfhearted smile. “More intense, I suppose, since I’m used to being…” The word ‘stronger’ stuck to his tongue like a sour taste—a bitter truth—but he pointedly ignored it. “A little more durable, if you will. It could be that any ailment or injury might prove to be a bit more troublesome than before since that… protection has been lost. Without it, I think I just feel more… exposed?…” He pulled the blanket a little tighter over his shoulders, his eyes drifting to the floor. “Vulnerable…?” he mumbled, hardly audible.

“Yeah, that… really doesn’t sound like a good time,” Blitz acknowledged sadly, heart aching from seeing someone he loved so… hurt. Satan, he could tell that his lover was trying—and half-succeeding, to his credit—to suppress shivers despite the blanket’s warmth. It tracked given the fever, but that didn’t make it any less worrying. “I mean, I don’t have the power to, like… re-magic your immune system and all that, but we’ll work on that,” he assured gently, giving a small smile. “And in the meantime, I still got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“Such as…?” Stolas asked.

Blitzø found his way under the blanket and wrapped his arms around the other man, cuddling up to him and nuzzling against his shoulder and cheek. “Well, first of all, you’re fucking shaking. You feelin’ cold?”

“Quite,” Stolas answered, holding him closer and melting into the embrace. He muffled a few hoarse coughs into his fist before adding, “Everything’s been starting to ache a bit too…”

“Yeahhh, fevers are a bitch like that,” Blitz sighed, wrapping his tail around Stolas’s waist. “I can get’cha another blanket if you want.”

“Mmh… perhaps something light would be best. My temperature’s already been rising rather quickly since last night, evidently. I don’t want to encourage it any further.”

“That’s probably a good idea, yeah. How ‘bout we also get some Tyhellnol in ya or somethin’? Get that fever ‘a yours down a little, help with the aches, all that good stuff?”

“That would be nice,” Stolas agreed, already beginning to relax more again and feeling warmed by the imp’s body heat, albeit still shivering a little.

“Damn right it would be. And Loonie’s gonna be bringing some more shit home pretty soon, so we got plenty ‘a options for whatever ya might need,” Blitz reminded, running his hand through his lover’s feathers before cupping his fever-flushed cheek. “Besides, just ‘cause this shit came on pretty fast doesn’t mean it’s gonna get way worse… and even if it does, you’ll still end up okay. I’ll make sure of that, all right? It’s gonna be fine, Stols,” he soothed, voice hardly above a whisper.

Blitz knew there was far, far more weighing on the poor bird than just whatever flu or other ailment he had picked up, and a high-grade fever surely wasn’t helping the emotional aftermath of everything that happened the previous day, especially since he was already struggling with the feeling of powerlessness. Hell, Blitz was pretty certain that he couldn’t even fully understand what was lost—some of it, perhaps, but much of it was so outside his realm of familiarity to begin with. So, he did his best to comfort as much as possible, trying to make things a little brighter and a little less scary, if he could.

Stolas sighed in relief, feeling the slightest sensation of tears forming in his eyes. “Thank you, Blitz… I hope you are right,” he murmured, holding him tight like a buoy in the storm.

“When aren’t I?” Blitz joked with faux vanity.

“Wellll…” Stolas began teasingly, trailing off.

“Okay, hey, fuck you, that wasn’t an actual question and you know that damn well, bitch,” Blitz retaliated, his tone playful and without the slightest drop of venom. 

In response, Blitz was met with a snicker that quickly dissolved into a few soft, owlish giggles that were even more contagious to the imp than the illness that was already starting to make his throat feel sore. Almost immediately, though, Stolas choked a little on the laugh, directing a small series of hoarse coughs into his fist.

Once Stolas had recovered and cleared his throat, Blitz prompted, “Soooo… drugs and another blanket?”

“Yes, please, dear.”

“Are you feelin’ up to finishing the movie orrr d’you just wanna try to get some more sleep or somethin’?” Blitz checked in, untangling himself from his lover and the blanket so he could stand up and stretch. “You’re lookin’ pretty fuckin’ tired.”

“I am, but I’d prefer to keep watching the movie,” Stolas decided, wrapping the blanket around him tighter now that his personal heater was absent.

“Eyy, man after my own heart,” Blitzø called back as he walked into the kitchen. As he sifted through a cabinet, he cringed a little as it occurred to him that he’d intended that as a joke, but it was… true in many senses, really.

After a moment, Blitz returned, setting a Belphegor-branded bottle of Tyhellnol and a glass of water down on the coffee table. “Aight, here ya go. Down, I think… two of those, it said?” he instructed, picking the medicine back up and squinting at the label for a sec before setting it down again. “Yeah, two. And if you’re still feelin’ shitty in, like, six hours, we can get’cha another dose, ‘kay?”

“Ah, thank you,” Stolas replied, taking two tablets and drinking several gulps of water in hopes of staying hydrated. Upon swallowing, he grimaced in pain.

“Throat still sore, huh?” Blitz asked as he brought over a thin red blanket patterned with black silhouettes of horses and wrapped it around his ill lover before sitting next to him.

“Unfortunately,” Stolas groaned in confirmation. “I’m starting to get a bit of a headache as well,” he lamented wearily, rubbing at his eyes and his temples.

“Awh… poor birdie. C’mere,” Blitz tutted, gently guiding him closer with one hand on his shoulder and the other cupping his round cheek, which visibly squished a little against his palm. Then, he placed a delicate kiss on his fever-warm forehead and another between his top two eyes. “This any better?” he asked, snuggling up under the blankets with him.

“Much…” came the immediate, fond agreement with a content smile. However, hardly a few seconds later, he felt that all-too-familiar irritation begin brewing deep in his sinuses again, prickling away at the ticklish skin and over-sensitive nerves. He sniffled a couple of times and pulled away from Blitz, explaining, “Sorry, one moment, darling. I think I n-hihh… need to… iehh…”

“Youuuu gonna sneeze or what?” It was half a genuine question and half a prompt to get on with it already.

“Umm… possibly,” Stolas answered, fanning a little at his face with both hands. “Hopefully, but I’m not… s-sure… ahh-hahh… hiiih!” He took in a long, desperate breath that even sounded anticipatory, burying his face into his hands as his eyes flickered shut. And yet, he teetered on the precipice for a moment, taking in another stutter of breath here and there, his delicate features tensed in need for relief. “Heh-ehhh…?”

“C’monnn, you can do it,” Blitz teased impatiently with an amused smirk. “Movie’s not gonna wait all day.”

“I’m—ihh! T-trying… I just… hehh-hh?… Ughh, can’t quite seem to sneeze…” Stolas muttered, pawing at his nose.

“Yeahhh, no shit, Stols. I can tell.”

“Oh, shut up. It’s anhh-hah!…” That hitching breath was really more of a whine than anything. “… It’s a rather frustrating sensation.”

“Sure, but ya gotta admit it’s still a liiiittle bit funny seein’ you get blue-balled by a fuckin’ sneeze,” Blitz insisted with a snicker.

“Funny for you, perhaps, but it’s… it's… eihhh… sndff, sndfff… uncomfortable and quite ihh-itchy…” Stolas complained, his sinuses still burning with need and a tension wavering throughout his body over the indecision.

“Yeah, looks like it.”

Stolas tried rubbing his nose against his forearm a little, hoping that the touch of his soft feathers might be able to finally tease out the stubborn sneeze. Every little bit of fluff tickled like mad, some even brushing inside his twitching nostrils.

“Hehh… f-fuck…” Almost there, he could feel it. Just a little more slight sweeping of his feathers back and forth against his nares.

“Huh-ahhh…” Alllmost, just—

“Hehhh!”

One of his feathers poked a little further back into his agitated nasal passages, and he was sure he would come undone at last. “Hiiihdt—!…” Come on, come on…

“Ah—!…” Oh, not again…

After another second, he let out a sigh, groaning in dissatisfaction. “Ughhh… by all the seven sins.”

“Do ya… need some help over there?” Blitz asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Why, sndff, what do you have in mind?” Stolas asked warily.

“Eh, somethin’ reeeally stupid, probably,” Blitz admitted with a shrug. With that, he gently cupped his lover’s cheek with one hand and guided him into a long kiss.

Stolas wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that.

However, just as it had earlier, the brushing and rubbing of their noses against one another did seem to get Stolas’s a little more worked up, his illness-reddened nostrils flaring in protest. Furthermore, every time Blitz exhaled through his nose, the slight rush of air tickled. Combined with the surprise and distraction of the kiss itself, it actually worked after a few seconds. Blitz pulled away as he felt Stolas’s chest fill with air against his own.

“Eihhh’ihHGKTSHhhiew!! Ehhdtschh!” Stolas sneezed desperately, directed down at his lap since it came on a little too suddenly and overwhelmingly to cover—after all, his body had cried wolf so many times that he wasn’t sure if it would actually go through with the reflex this time. At least he was able to fully turn away and bury his face into a handful of tissues after the first two sneezes.

“There ya go, fuckin’ finally. Keep goin’, get it all outta your system,” Blitzø instructed as if Stolas had a choice in the matter.

“Ihhh-hiiih—! IHDT-shiewww! Heht’KTSHhh!… Huhh…? IHPTschhh’ah!… Ihshh!…” Stolas sniffled a few times into his tissues and let out a long, indulgent sigh of overdue relief. Then, he wiped his running nose and blew it once.

“Damn ya,” Blitz offered with a scoff of amusement. “Better?”

“Indescribably so,” Stolas replied sincerely. “I see, now, what you meant about it being a ‘stupid idea.’ It… really was. I can’t believe that worked.”

“Wellll, kissin’ like that set ya off earlier, figured it might do it again,” Blitz elaborated with a shrug.

“Hmm. Well, ehm… thank you, I suppose,” Stolas responded, feeling a bit awkward and… mortified. “Do you, um… Do you want to finish the movie…?” he prompted hesitantly, casting a gesture towards the television.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Blitz replied with a smile, getting comfortable and cuddly once more, leaning his head back against Stolas’s shoulder and feeling the bird rest his own head against his horns, before finally pressing the play button on the TV remote.

They continued like that relatively uninterrupted—save for some coughs and sneezes here and there—until about ten minutes before the end of the movie, when the front door was unlocked with a jingle of keys, and Loona entered the apartment with a shopping bag in one hand.

“Hey,” she greeted, but stopped short in her tracks when she saw the TV, recognizing the movie immediately. “Oh, no, he’s making you watch this shit too?” she asked with a groan, burying her face in her free hand.

“Well, first of all, welcome back, sweetie,” Blitz began, sweet as honey. “Secondly, I’ll have you know, he actually likes it, ain’t that right, Stols?” he prompted with folded arms, keeping his gaze on Loona as he waited for Stolas to back him up… and kept waiting. “… Stolas?” Blitz turned to see what was up.

“Hehhhh’IHDTSCHhiewww! Ihktsh’eh!” Stolas sneezed into yet another tissue.

… Well, that answered that question. 

“Oh. Damn you,” Blitz said, placing a hand on his shoulder protectively.

Sniffling and clearing his throat, Stolas chimed in, “Um, yes, sorry, I thought it was rather charming.”

“Huh. Congrats on finding another fuckin’ dork, Dad,” Loona teased. “No offense, of course, your highn—” She trailed off quickly, cringing at using a title that he so painfully and recently lost. “Uhh, S-Stolas,” she corrected with an awkward hand gesture, ears flattening to their sides.

“None taken,” Stolas reassured with a small smile.

“How are you feeling…?” Loona inquired.

“Not my best, I’m afraid, but on the mend and all that,” Stolas answered, downplaying it a little on instinct, especially with someone he hadn’t spoken to a whole lot yet.

“Sorry to hear it. I… got the stuff you guys wanted. Hope it helps,” she offered, setting the bag down on the kitchen counter.

“Oh, thank you,” Stolas hummed gratefully.

“Thanks, Loonie,” Blitz echoed with a sentimental smile. “How’d work go today? Did M&M end up goin’ on any missions?”

“Yeah, they did. It went well!” Loona assured. “Killed some asshole baker in a small town who was poisoning some of the food he sold.”

“Oh. Oh, my,” Stolas fretted with a wince.

“Yeah. Got a surprise two-for-one deal with his girlfriend though,” Loona continued, “some corpo exec on vacation for the holiday season. Apparently, she worked in insurance. I think Moxxie said it was like… they’d make a sale with someone who wanted another person dead—”

“I respect it,” Blitz interrupted, running an assassination business himself.

“For the insurance payout. He’d give them a poisoned cupcake or whatever, off the books, and she’d help milk the most money the customer could get outta the death, both of ‘em getting a cut of the profit,” Loona explained. “Weird shit.”

“‘Course it’s somethin’ fuckin’ cool the one time I don’t tag along,” Blitz sulked with a pout.

“Well, you can ask Moxxie and Millie about it if you want. I’m leaving your crystal on the counter too, by the way,” Loona informed, setting the magical artifact in question down with a slight clink.

“Ah, great. Thanks, sweetie!” Blitz replied.

“Don’t mention it,” Loona responded. After a few moments of hesitation, she walked over to the right side of the couch, nearest where Stolas sat. “Uh… Stolas…?” she began, rubbing her upper arm anxiously.

“Yes?” the bird in question replied.

“I… I just wanted to say thank you again… for everything,” she said with a sad smile, her voice soft and sincere. She fought not to tear up at the mere thought of what almost happened to her father without Stolas intervening.

“Oh! Oh, of course, dear,” Stolas faltered, not quite sure what to say.

“I hope you feel better soon,” Loona offered. After another second, she began to head into her bedroom. “In the meantime, though, I’m gonna hide in here for a little while so you two walking germ factories don’t fuckin’ get me sick, m’kay?”

“Hey, I’m not sick yet,” Blitz protested indignantly.

“Yeah, but the fact you had to say ‘yet’ speaks fucking volumes,” Loona retorted before entering her room and closing the door behind her.

“… She has a point,” Stolas remarked.

“Yeahhh, I know,” Blitz groaned. He was not looking forward to coming down with this shit, but it would be worth it regardless.

Once Spirit was finally finished, they moved onto romance movies for the night. When Stolas began getting sleepy, they switched their positions on the couch: Stolas laying on his back over the entire couch and Blitz laying on top of him, his face resting on Stolas’s chest and their arms in an embrace, the two blankets over them both. It wasn’t an ideal amount of space, but at least they were able to cuddle. 

“How’re you feelin’, Sniffles?” Blitz asked after some time, voice soft and a little tired, himself.

“I think my fever might have gone up a bit again, but it’s too close to the last dose to take more medicine. Other than that, a little better, I suppose?” Stolas answered, stroking Blitz’s horns repetitively.

“Y’know what, I’m gonna count that as a win for now,” Blitz decided, nuzzling into Stolas’s chest with content purrs.

After a few moments of comfortable silence filled by the romcom they had on the television, Stolas murmured, “You’ve made this much, much better, you know. I can’t even begin to tell you how much this—all of this since yesterday—means to me… really, thank you, Blitz.”

“Always.”

Ironically, in a way, the banishment resulted in Stolas being less alone than he had ever been before. The whole day, from the very moment he opened his eyes, Blitz devoted his best efforts to tending to the ex-prince’s well-being, comforting him, and spending time with him. That night, Stolas slept in the arms of someone who truly, genuinely cared about him—loved him, even—bundled up in a borrowed sweater he hadn’t even had to ask for and soft blankets bearing patterns that may as well have had Blitzø’s name on them. When he awoke in the middle of the night from fever-fueled nightmares of what could happen to his daughter without his protection, Blitz was there to wipe his tears, reassure him, give him another dose of medicine, and cuddle him back to sleep.

It was clear how much Blitz cared about him. Blitz looked at him like he was someone who mattered, even without his title, his magic, his legions, his standing in high society, his wealth—without any of his power at all. He wanted Stolas for simply who he was, even when he lost so much that felt like it was a part of his identity. He disregarded all concerns about his own health, refusing to keep his distance, because he wanted nothing more than to hold Stolas, talk to him, and do everything in his power to never let him feel so miserable—so alone—again.

Heavy is the head that wore the crown, its sudden absence yet more crushing than the burdens that had grown familiar. Stolas had traded everything he ever had for everything he ever wanted. As a result, he now bore a new set of burdens that were unsettling in their unfamiliarity. However, he had someone who wanted to support his weight and steady him when everything became too heavy to possibly carry on his own. After all, almost any burden feels lighter when its bearer can lean upon another. Despite everything, he felt content and fulfilled to be able to rest his heavy head against someone who truly, deeply cared about him, and perhaps even that alone made it all worth it.

[patheticandmiserable]

there's just something so unbelievably attractive about watching someone suffer through a cold in public. the vulnerability of blowing their nose and making a long, loud gurgly honking noise. trying to discreetly scrub at their nose which is very noticeably red and drippy. the not so quiet sniffles that escape them every few seconds in an attempt to keep the snot at bay inside their actively running nostrils. the stifled sneezes into an obviously used wad of tissues crumpled up in their hand, pressing it against their nose, trapping in the sneezes and snot, as not to make a mess and spread this cold around, even though they already have. they hold onto the railing in the subway car with the same hand holding the snot soaked tissues they keep tending to their cold filled nose with. they look and sound just awful.

[patheticandmiserable]

Sinsmas, Derailed (Part 2) - Haz/bin Ho/tel

it's 2:10 am

suffice it to say i ZOOMED through this, and if you see any typos no ya don't it's FINE

Featuring, a power outage, Va/ggie being Very Fucking Clever, and Che/rri and Pen/tious being so sweet (Pen/tious also discovers something new about himself.)

special mention to @zensations35 and @instarsandcrime for much needed moral support, and to @rosieknows for, well, the same, but also they helped me with some of the logical shit that would have driven me up the wall otherwise.

Here's the first part if ya wanna catch up, but i gotta tell you this part is quite literally almost twice as long OOPS

once again happy holidays yallllll

“Jeez, it’s fuckin’ freezing in here!” Husk said. 

One look around the room confirmed this.

Angel had both his sets of arms across his front to try and keep warm, and Pentious and Cherri were still huddled up together under their blanket, Cherri shivering even more than Pentious was, which was saying a lot.

Even Alastor shuddered occasionally, a faint thrum of static pulsating around him every time he did.

Which is why everyone was perplexed when Lucifer entered in a red and white short-sleeved shirt, a shaky smile on his tired, tear-streaked face.

“I’m back, guys!” he announced jovially, one arm outstretched, while the other had a vice grip on his apple-topped cane.

If there were crickets in Hell, one would have chirped to fill the immediate silence.

The silence seemed to intensify when Charlie stepped into the room a moment later, holding a stack of what looked like folded-up sweaters in different colours.

“Uh...” Husk stood there, raising a puzzled brow.

“I feel like I’ve missed something here,” Vaggie whispered.

“Very classy, Lucifer!” Angel said from across the room, “Candy cane’s a good look on ya!”

“Oh! Thank you,” Lucifer whipped round to him.

“Guys, I have a surprise for you all,” Charlie beamed, “I spent the last two weeks knitting holiday sweaters for everyone!”

She darted around the room, handing over the sweaters to their designated recipients.

“Awh, yes!” Cherri smiled, shedding her leather jacket and exchanging it for the fluffy wool that matched the gradient of her hair dye perfectly, the garment sprinkled with golden sequins.

Pentious’s eyes went wide as he unfurled his own sweater, long enough to cover the upper half of his tail as well as his torso. He put it on, marvelling at its softness against his scales, resplendent in white, gold and blue.

“Oh - almost forgot!” Charlie handed over a small paper bag to Pentious. He opened it to see miniature versions of the sweater he was currently wearing.

“Are those...?” Pentious began, getting a little choked up.

“For your eggs,” Charlie nodded.

Pentious smiled up at her, tears welling up.

Everyone else put their own sweaters on; tacky though they may have been, they were warm. Besides, Charlie had clearly put a lot of work into these.

Alastor figured wearing it was better than freezing his tail off, and he had to admit, it fit him perfectly.

Angel held his up, impressed at how Charlie had gotten the placement of the extra sleeves exactly right, before putting it on - and giving the princess a quick hug when she revealed the matching one she’d made for Fat Nuggets.

Vaggie’s one matched Charlie’s own - light blue and white, with angelic wings embroidered onto the back, where Charlie’s had more bat-like, demonic ones. 

“Thank you,” Vaggie said softly, giving her love a kiss on the cheek.

Only one person wasn’t wearing theirs yet.

“Dad, this is is yours,” Charlie handed the folded bundle of wool to him.

“Uh...” 

Lucifer felt frozen.

If I wear it, my fever’s gonna spike again, he thought, but if I don’t then that’s really suspicious...

“Something wrong, your Majesty?” Alastor sidled up to him.

“No,” Lucifer shot him a side-eye sharper than cut glass, “I’m just, eh... worried— that... I’ll...” he searched for an excuse, anything to get Alastor off his back...

Ding.

He caught sight of the mug in Pentious’s hand, and a light bulb went off in his head.

“I’ll... end up spilling mulled wine on it!” he finished, “I was just about to get some, it’s so cold in here, y’know?”

He didn’t know how convincing that had been, but it seemed to shut the pompous radio host up, and that was more than enough for him.

“I also made one for Keekee,” Charlie practically sang, holding up the tiny sweater made for her.

The demonic cat gave an affronted glare, and sped to the other side of the room.

“I got this,” Lucifer looked to Charlie.

It became painfully clear that he had not, in fact, “got this” when, after three minutes of struggling, interspersed with angry screeches from both parties, Lucifer walked back over to Charlie with thin gold lines all over his hands and forearms where Keekee had scratched him, and a pained, slightly traumatised look on his face.

“Well, I tried,” Lucifer paused mid-shrug to rub his nose, “Sorry, Charlie...”

He finally elected to put on his own sweater, if only to cover the scratches.

“Here, let me take a crack at it,” Husk left the bar, took the sweater and walked over to where Keekee was still in a corner.

“Nobody better fuckin’ judge me for this,” Husk sighed.

“Oh, I plan to,” Alastor murmured.

Husk knelt down to her level, and the two cats locked eyes.

He purred.

She meowed back.

Thirty seconds later, Husk stood up, a satisfied smile on his face, cradling Keekee - who was now in a tailored red and white sweater - in his arms.

“How. The fuck,” Angel asked, unable to keep the giggle out of the question.

Alastor was braced against the wall, shaking with silent laughter.

“She likes me better,” Husk explained.

Lucifer was about to make an offhanded comment about how impressive Husk’s talent was, but any thoughts on what to say were halted by an all-too-familiar burning in his sinuses. He reached down the collar of his sweater for the handkerchief that was still in the shirt pocket underneath.

“Takin’ a leaf outta my book, I see,” Angel said approvingly - he wasn’t above using his chest fluff as a pocket of sorts.

Truth be told, Lucifer hadn’t even registered Angel’s comment, he was too busy hitching into the cloth he had frantically buried his face in.

“Eeh’hHETCHhmmf!” Lucifer’s head snapped forwards, “Ugh- hh-! huh... HEIHTSshhHEW! ISHhhew! EISHhh! IIESHhheh! Snrk-! Dambit...”

“Oh, Dad...” Charlie’s hands fidgeted.

“I’ll be fide- hgt-hmm-!” Lucifer began, before giving a brief blow into the hanky, folding it up and putting it in his trouser pocket.

“Yikes,” Husk winced in sympathy, “Sounds like that shit’s really doin’ a number on you.”

“Yeah, it must be pretty bad if your throat’s fucked like this,” Angel agreed.

“I’b telli’g you- snff- it’s okay,” Lucifer assured weakly, to subtle eye-rolls from them both.

“If you’re sure...” Charlie’s gaze lingered on the king’s weary face.

“Y-yep,” Lucifer backed away, “Now, I’m gonna go get that wine...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sir Pentious couldn’t think of the last time he’d been this content. 

Being here with Cherri by his side felt like something out of an Austen novel - albeit, one in which the protagonist’s lover wore leather, fishnets and high-heeled boots, but an Austen novel nonetheless.

She was perfect in every way, and Pentious couldn’t put his finger on why. 

Everything.

Her accent, her raucous bursts of laughter, even her far more modern sense of fashion and humour had grown on him.

He’d never expected this, and yet-

“Hey - Earth to Pentious,” Cherri’s voice cut through his reverie, “Ya good?”

“Ah- yes!” Pentious snapped out of his own thoughts to focus on her, “Are- are you?”

“Course I am,” Cherri said, “Just... fuck, hang on a sec...” she trailed off, gently fanning her face for a moment.

Pentious gave a soft gasp at almost the exact moment Cherri did.

“HahTCHh’ew!” Cherri sneezed, the quick motion of her head messing up her hair a little.

She shook herself off, in a graceful sort of way Pentious could only describe as enticing.

“Are you sssure you’re alright, Cherri?” Pentious put a hand on her shoulder.

“M’fine, Pen,” Cherri assured him with a sniff, “Just random. Stop lookin’ at me like that.”

“No,” Pentious said simply, nothing but love, slight concern, and an awestruck admiration in his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucifer looked around the kitchen, then checked nobody was too close to the door.

He’d been right; the sweater Charlie had made was making him so hot he was surprised the damn thing wasn’t burning, and he needed to cool himself down right now.

He pulled the sweater off quickly - but delicately so as not to rip it and ruin his daughter’s hard work - and undid the top four buttons of his shirt.

Then he opened the refrigerator and stood in front of it, giving a shaky, vocal sigh of blissful relief.

He’d just started to feel something like himself again when he heard the kitchen door open.

I’m fucked.

“Hey, is there any a’ that mulled wine left in here?” came Angel Dust’s voice.

I’m completely fucked.

“Eh...” Angel looked at Lucifer in utter confusion.

“Um...” Lucifer looked up at Angel, eyes wide with panic.

Lucifer would fall from Heaven all over again to get Angel to leave, or at least to stop giving him that look.

“Huh,” Angel took a step towards him, “Who’da thought the Devil gets hot flashes?”

Ohhh, thank goodness.

“Yes!” Lucifer agreed, only realising after the word passed his lips that he’d said it far too quickly, and with a high pitch that didn’t fit, “Ahemm- snf-! Yeah, I- I do, actually. They’re kind of a bitch to deal with.”

“That why you’re coolin’ off by standin’ in front of the fridge?” Angel asked.

“Yep, you got it!” Lucifer nodded, “But don’t tell Charlie, she was so happy when I wore that sweater she made me and- hht- and it’d break her heh-heart- IHTSCHhhew! ISHhh’IEW!” Lucifer ducked forward into his elbow.

“Salud,” Angel said, to a muffled “Thagks” from Lucifer.

“I’ll leave ya to it,” Angel poured a mug of wine for himself - and one for the king, for good measure - and strutted out of the room.

Lucifer stepped away from the fridge, buttoned up his shirt, and pulled his sweater back on, taking his mulled wine and mentally preparing to face the others again.

All he could think about for the next fifteen minutes was how he hadn’t felt this mortified since being judged by Heaven.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everyone sat down at the table for dinner. Nobody wanted anything too fancy, so Vaggie decided to order in pizzas, much to Charlie, Angel and Cherri’s delight. 

Charlie was at the head of the table, Vaggie at the seat to her left, and Lucifer, to her right. Cherri, as the “gues of honour” (those were Pentious’s words, anyway) sat at the other end of the table, with Pentious next to her. Angel was on Cherri’s other side, with Husk next to him. Niffty was next to Vaggie, twirling her knife between her fingers playfully. 

This left, between Pentious and Lucifer...

“Alastor,” Lucifer sighed, massaging his temple as the Radio Demon perched next to him, “Of course...”

“I’m no more pleased with this than you are,” Alastor smiled wryly, looking away from Pentious giggling merrily at something Cherri had said.

“So, get this, right?” Angel started, a little wine-drunk by now, “I was in the kitchen earlier, and what do I see?”

Lucifer swallowed, the feeling scraping his throat in a way that only served to make him more uncomfortable than he already was. He could see where Angel was going with this, and was fighting to keep his face in an expression that wasn’t mortified panic.

“Lucifer’s standin’ in front a’ the fridge,” Angel went on, one hand on the table, “Sweater off, shirt open. And he’s got this relieved kinda look on his face, like he’s been on fire and he’s finally coolin’ off. So I went over to him, cause c’mon, what was I gonna do, say nothin? Anyway, I asked if he was havin’ a hot flash or somethin’, and he said yeah, he was. Ya learn somethin’ new every day!”

“Hold it,” Vaggie suddenly said from across the table, “Angels don’t get hot flashes, it’s not in our biology.”

Lucifer flushed, a golden glow beginning to show.

“Wait, wait, seriously?” Angel wondered, “Then what was goin’ on in there, cause he looked like he was seriously overheatin’.”

“He’s been a bit unsteady on his feet, too,” Husk pointed out, “And that was before he started hittin’ the wine.”

“Yeah, I noticed that too,” Niffty said.

“Y’sure you’re feelin’ alright, boss-man?” Cherri asked from the other end of the table.

“I’m-” Lucifer started, but was sharply interrupted by Alastor. 

“Oh, but of course!” Alastor began, “Our fallen sovereign is perfectly fine! He’s wasted no time telling us that today, after all - and who could doubt the word of royalty?”

The word of royalty would be a hell of a lot more convincing were it not for the fact that the strong scent of the candle in the centre of the table was really starting to irritate Lucifer’s already-ticklish sinuses, and if he wasn’t careful, he could very well set the table on fire.

His only hope was to try and hold back the building itch, but he knew all too well that wasn’t going to last.

“Ih-hhht...” Lucifer hitched softly.

“Uh, Lucifer?” Vaggie had a look of vague concern on her face, “You good?”

“I’m okay,” Lucifer gave a hesitant thumbs-up, “I just- heh-hHH-! Hh... hgh...”

Okay. So far, so good. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Lucifer scrubbed fiercely at his nose, “I’m still kinda itchy...”

As Lucifer’s breathing quickened again, Vaggie noticed the wind picking up outside.

“Everyone, shh,” Vaggie whispered.

All eyes at the dinner table were on Lucifer as his own eyes squeezed shut. He patted around on his person for his handkerchief, raising it to his face as he leaned back.

“IGNK-TCHhhiew!” Lucifer bent at the waist, the miserable attempt at a stifle failing utterly.

“Oh- sndf- excuse me, I- ihHITSHhhiew! IESHhhiew! Eh-hEH-! Eeht’ISHHhhieww, hh’Itshh- ETSHHh- IETCHhhih! Oh ndo- ieh’heh-! HAHT’ISSHhheew!”

The gale roared on outside, and Lucifer’s harsher sneezes were punctuated by flashes of gold light in the window, followed by thunder overhead.

Alastor pointedly moved over to the empty seat next to Sir Pentious.

Niffty got up from her own seat and ran out of the room.

“The fuck?” Husk and Angel stood up at the exact same time.

“It would appear our dear ruler is the cause of the blizzard outside,” Alastor drew as far back from Lucifer as he could without leaving his seat.

“Oh, shiiit,” Charlie wrung her hands.

“I’b so- snrrk! Ugh, so sorry-” Lucifer apologised, straightening only to be overcome with shallow gasps again - and dread pooling in his stomach as he felt the back of his throat growing hot.

“Ghhgh- get bahhck-” Lucifer warned between hitches.

Nobody at that table needed to be told twice.

“Hegk’SCHhmff!” Lucifer pressed the cloth tightly to his face, sparks hot on his tongue, “IESHhhiew! Igh’KSHH! IKTSCH! EIKSHh-hiw! HETSHHHEWW!”

A flickering flame escaped, burning out in the air in front of Lucifer.

“And here I thought fireworks didn’t happen till New Year’s Eve,” Cherri giggled. Pentious was struck with a timid sort of awe - like he wanted to look away from the clearly suffering king, but couldn’t.

“Uh, Charlie? Is this... normal, for him?” Vaggie whispered.

A dawning look of realisation travelled across Charlie’s face.

“I’m not sure,” Charlie replied.

“Fuck that,” Husk took Angel’s hand, “C’mon Legs, let’s go.”

Angel took his plate, and Husk’s, in his upper set of arms, and the two of them walked back to the bar.

“IHGKTSHhhew! Ohh, shit, I can’t stop- Ihht-EISHhhieww! TSSHhhhiue! Eh- heghht-! HIIEGH’TshhHEEUW!”

A sparking flame flew from his mouth, dissipating in the centre of the room. 

An almighty crack-KABOOM! of thunder and lightning sounded.

And the lights went out, with only the spiced apple candle on the table giving a dim glow to Lucifer’s horrified face.

“Fffffugk,” Lucifer croaked out, massaging his scorched throat, and wincing.

Cherri switched on the torch on her phone, and Vaggie did the same.

“Someone’s gonna have to go out there and fix the fuse box or something,” Vaggie said.

“I’ll go,” Lucifer raised a hand.

“Dad, I really don’t think—” Charlie began, but the look on her father’s face spoke volumes.

“I’ll be okay, Charlie,” Lucifer told her, smiling weakly before giving a honking blow into the handkerchief in his hand. 

A snap of his fingers, and the well-worn cloth vanished to the ether, a new one, patterned with small yellow ducklings, in its place.

“I think somebody ought to go with him,” Alastor drummed his fingertips on the top of his staff, “And we can hardly expect Sir Pentious to - after all, he’s cold-blooded, and I dread to think how badly he’d fare in the snow.”

“Where are you going with this?” Vaggie asked, looking up at Alastor with suspicion.

“Well, I truly feel like I should go out there in case anything should happen to him,” Alastor finished.

“Ugh, fine, whatever, just don’t kill each other, okay?” Vaggie pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Excellent!” Alastor twirled the staff with a flourish.

“Oh! Make sure you’re warm enough!” Charlie said as the Radio Demon led Lucifer out of the dining room.

“I have a feeling his Majesty will take care of that, if his performance at dinner is anything to go by,” Alastor assured her.

Lucifer couldn’t stop the frustrated sigh from slipping out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Freezing” was an understatement. 

The snow, which was still falling hard and fast, piled up in thick drifts against the walls of the hotel - frankly it was a miracle the doors weren’t blocked. Frost-patterned windows glistened in what little light there was outside. 

The city streets, which could be seen from the hotel entrance, were dead silent, except for the wind whistling through back-alleys and cul-de-sacs.

Alastor was hunched over, his pointed teeth chattering.

Lucifer wasn’t shivering quite as much, but his breath made visible clouds in the chilled air in front of him.

“The fuse box is this way,” Lucifer said, “Down these stairs.”

“I’ll lead the way,” Alastor stepped in front of him, “It wouldn’t do to have you fall, Sire-AGH-!!”

One moment, Alastor had taken a single step onto a snow-covered stair.

The next, he was toppling backwards, landing hard on his tail. 

Lucifer bent forward in wheezing laughter, with a few coughs.

“You were saying?” Lucifer smirked.

Alastor didn’t respond, instead getting up, rubbing his back and holding on to the bannister for dear life as he took slow, shuffling steps.

Lucifer followed behind him, and they eventually made it to the fuse box.

“Okay, so it looks like the circuit breakers got flipped,” Lucifer opened the door to the fuse box to reveal a number of switches, “The lightning must’ve caused a surge and turned them off.”

He started flicking switches, his hands a little shaky.

“I don’t understand half of that,” Alastor said, “I imagine the chill out here is helping with your little... overheating problem?”

Lucifer turned his head to look at him.

“I’b ndot overheati’g,” Lucifer snapped, before giving a few drawn-out sniffles,“Ugh, stupid weather- snrkk-”

“You poor, suffering creature,” Alastor began, “You've sounded positively dreadful all day.”

“Drop it,” Lucifer muttered.

“I was prepared to accept your claim that it was just allergies,” Alastor continued, “but even out here, you don’t seem to be improving. Why, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say—”

“Don’t. Fucki’g. Say it.”

“—you’re almost definitely coming down with something truly wretched,” Alastor bent to his level, smiling widely.

As Lucifer flicked the last few switches - more forcefully than he would have if he wasn’t fucking seething - Alastor saw his brow furrowing, and steam beginning to pour from his collar.

Without a word, Lucifer slammed the door to the fuse box shut, and the pair of them slowly made their way up the stairs again.

They’d just barely made it to the top when Lucifer took a deep breath and a few steps back, before landing a swift, perfectly-placed kick to Alastor’s kneecaps and sending him into a snowdrift, before turning to walk back into the hotel.

“What,” Alastor pushed himself up, shaking snowflakes from his shoulders, “the fuck was that for?”

“Consider it divine judgement,” Lucifer kept on walking, though it took a mere few seconds for Alastor’s long strides to catch up to him. 

“Strange,” Alastor cocked his head to one side, “I thought divine judgement was supposed to strike from above.” 

“Oh-ho, so it’s like that?” Lucifer asked.

“Now, don’t get short with me,” Alastor laughed.

“Okay, that’s it!” Lucifer snarled, wielding his cane like a sword.

“Well, if it’s a fight you want,” Alastor shrugged, bracing himself, “You’re on.” his voice warbled with static.

He’d been expecting Lucifer to come barrelling into him, to fly over his head and drop-kick him, something like that.

He wasn’t anticipating the snowball that hit him square in the back of the head, ice falling down the back of his neck.

“HA!” Lucifer called from behind him, “Direct hit!”

Alastor turned to him, taking snow in his hands and forming it into a sphere, which was swiftly launched at Lucifer, who didn’t quite manage to move out of the way in time and got hit in the arm.

And so it went on for a while, the pair of them throwing snowballs at each other - and very rarely missing.

“Had enough yet?” Lucifer asked, unable to keep the giggle out of his voice.

“N-n-never,” Alastor answered, “I’m going to best you, I’m- Hh- sure of it...”

Lucifer wound up his throw like a baseball pitcher, so focused on the look that was going to be on Alastor’s smug-ass face when he hit the target, that he didn’t notice his adversary’s expression growing hazy.

“Hhkzzshtt! HKZZT’chhew!”

Alastor snapped forward at the waist, his hands covering his face - at the exact moment Lucifer threw the snowball that was supposed to hit his head, but instead flew directly over him.

“Fuck you, you made me miss!” Lucifer shouted.

“Ugh, I’m freezing here,” Alastor shuddered violently, sniffling.

“Oh? So you’re surrendering?” Lucifer asked.

“Think of it as sparing you.”

The two of them went back inside to the hotel, and they were greeted by the lights in the hallway - at least, if nothing else, they’d succeeded in getting the power working again.

“Oh, hey, you’re back!” Charlie greeted the two of them at the door, face turning from joy to clear anxiety when she saw her father and Alastor shaking in the doorway, “What happened? You’re both soaking wet!”

“We got a little sidetracked,” Lucifer admitted, “But hey, the lights are back on!”

“You’re shivering...” Charlie reached out a hand to touch her father’s shoulder.

“Y-yep!” Lucifer side-stepped past her, “I’m gonna go dry off, okay? Okay! Byeeee!”

“I might do the same,” Alastor told her, “It’s much colder out there than I’m used to, and-” 

He paused as a tiny hitch escaped him.

Not. Now.

“One moment,” Alastor whispered, turning away from Charlie before dipping forwards into the crook of his arm with a sharp “Hht-kzztchhih!”

“Blessss you!” Pentious called from across the room, to a withering glare from the Radio Demon.

“Ohh, no,” Charlie said, “You sound like you’re getting a cold...”

“Nonsense, I’m a little chilled, that’s all!” Alastor reassured her, “Nothing a hot shower can’t fix.”

And with that, he walked up to his room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Angel and Husk were at the bar, Husk behind the mahogany counter, while Angel perched himself on a bar stool. He had his phone on the bar, playing an assortment of modern Christmas songs.

“Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree, for me, I’ve been an awful good boy, Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney toniiiight,” Angel sang, the words sultry and sweet in his New York accent, walking his fingers up the bar.

Husk couldn’t help but smile as Angel really got into the performance - he’d thought living with an actor would be its own kind of hell, but it was actually pretty nice to have someone who knew how to put on a show.

The song was just ending when Vaggie came up to the bar.

“What’ll it be?” Husk asked.

“I need to ask you something,” Vaggie told him, “Have either of you noticed Lucifer’s been acting, like, super weird?”

“Apart from the fridge thing earlier, no, not really,” Angel said, “Isn’t he always a little weird, though? That’s half the fun of livin’ with him.”

“Come to think of it, yeah,” Husk answered, “I dunno, maybe it’s just some emotional shit he’s goin’ through, but he’s been excited about this all month, and now all of a sudden he keeps makin’ excuses to leave the room.”

“Maybe he’s just been alone so long, he ain’t used to havin’ so many people around for the holidays?” Angel suggested.

“Good point,” Vaggie thought aloud, “But I know when someone’s hiding something, and I’ve got a feeling I know what.”

“Well don’t tell me,” Angel said, sarcasm dripping from his tone, “The suspense is gonna be the double-death a’ me here.”

“He’s sick,” Vaggie dropped her voice to a low note of suspicion, like someone discussing military secrets, “Think about it - it explains him feeling hot earlier when the rest of us were cold, being reluctant to put on the sweater cause he was feverish, his powers are clearly on the fritz...”

“Wait, hold up,” Husk cut across her, “Sorry, but the honest-to-God fuckin’ Devil can get sick?”

“Angels can,” Vaggie explained, “We don’t often, but it happens. And he used to be an angel, right?”

“Uh-huh...” Angel took another sip of his drink.

“Y’know, I noticed he seemed kinda off earlier when he was stringin’ the lights up,” Husk added, “He kept, like, rubbin’ his nose, like somethin’ was botherin’ him - and this was before we lit those candles.”

“They probably just made a bad situation worse...” Vaggie sighed.

“But,” Angel piped up, “It gave him a believable excuse. He saw the opportunity to pass it off as just his allergies actin’ up, and he took it. That’s why he let us keep the candles lit, cause if we didn’t, and we aired the place out, and he was still sneezin’ his head off, we’d all know somethin’ was up.”

“Man, you guys are clever,” Vaggie gave a satisfied half-smile.

“Eh, when you’ve been bartendin’ a while, you kinda learn to read people,” Husk said modestly.

“And I couldn’t tell ya how many times I’ve seen Val’s flatscreen lover-boy tryna deny he was sick so he didn’t wanna take off work - trust me, I know stubborn when I see it.” Angel finished, “Bravo yourself, you’re the one who gave enough of a shit to come ask us.”

“So, who’s gonna call him out on this?” Husk asked, “Cause it sure as fuck won’t be me.”

“We don’t need to,” Vaggie answered, “It’s like. Painfully obvious at this point, he just needs to accept it himself...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Amidst hushed whispers at the bar, Cherri and Pentious stood at the side of the parlour.

“So, Penny,” Cherri started, “What did you guys do for Christmas in, like, Victorian times?”

“Oh, it was truly wonderful,” Pentious wore a reminiscent smile, “We put candles in the tree, we drank, we ate the most splendid food, and we sang carols in the streets. What about you?”

“Well, this is- snf- Sorry- this is a bit of a weird one, but in Australia, Christmas is in the middle of summer,” Cherri told him, his face rapt with attention, “We’d barbecue shrimp, and it was fuckin’ delicious.”

“Well, to each their own,” Pentious looked away for a moment - who the hell barbecued shrimp?

“Whoo, I must be drunk,” Cherri said, “I feel kinda weird all of a sudden...”

“Weird, in what way?” Pentious asked, eyebrows raised immediately.

“Just a bit tired,” Cherri waved a hand.

“Perhaps we should sit down again?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Cherri obliged, her voice trailing off into a quick gasp.

“HuhTCHH’ew! Fu-huh- Ahdt’SCHhew! Shit, sorry, didn’t mean to startle ya, love,” Cherri apologised, noting that Pentious had flinched for a brief moment.

Then she looked at his face, and saw that he didn’t look startled as much as... no, really?

“Goodness, are you alright?” Pentious placed a hand to her forehead and ran it down her cheek. She felt a little warmer than usual.

“Think I might be gettin’ sick,” Cherri admitted, “Don’t worry, it’s not like. Ye olde plague or whateva, I’ll be alright- hH-ATSCHheh! Ugh...”

Pentious felt his own face grow hot, and his pulse fluttered in his chest - what was happening to him?

“Are you okay?” Cherri asked, “You’re all fidgety - hang on, are you blushing?”

“Oh, shit,” Pentious whispered, his throat tightening.

“Do you find this... attractive?” Cherri wondered.

“Well- of course not! Wait, I mean... I find everything about you attractive, ssso...” Pentious tugged at his collar.

“It’s fine if ya do,” Cherri went on, “You just seem so flustered, and it’s kinda cute.” 

“Maybe a little...” Pentious confessed.

“I fuckin’ knew it!” Cherri laughed, “Aw, your face is priceless.”

Pentious didn’t respond in words, instead letting out a strangled sort of hiss.

“So... you wanna take this to your room?” Cherri took her serpentine lover by the hand.

“Well, if you’re ill, you’ll need to stay here for the night,” Pentious reasoned.

“Makes sense,” Cherri stood, “You’re almost definitely gonna catch this shit, though.”

“And it will be a worthy sssacrifice to make in the name of love,” Pentious looked into her eye.

“You’re such a dork,” Cherry gave him a gentle shove, and they both chuckled quietly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Charlie?” Vaggie sat down next to her on one of the couches, “You’re doing that thing with your hands, is everything okay?”

“I- I don’t know,” Charlie sighed, “I guess this just isn’t how I thought my first Sinsmas back with Dad would go. He’s been staying up at night to help me, and I’m kinda worried about him.”

Vaggie didn’t have the heart to tell her how right she was to be worried.

“Hey, today’s been a lot,” Vaggie put a hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder, “I think everyone’s gonna feel a lot less stressed after they get some sleep, and that includes you.”

“Mmhm,” Charlie stood up, “You’re right.”

“Come on, let’s go,” Vaggie followed suit, and soon the parlour was empty, save for Niffty, who was cleaning the place up, and Husk and Angel, who’d resumed their karaoke session.

“Got on a lucky one, came in eighteen to one, I got a feelin’, this year’s for me and you...” Husk sang softly, and Angel flushed a little at the older demon’s low voice with just the right amount of roughness to it, “So happy Sinsmas, I love ya, Angel—” 

The spider let out a giggle at the lyric change.

“I can see a better time, when all our dreams come true...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Charlie and Vaggie were the first downstairs. Niffty followed quickly after them, then Alastor, who looked paler than normal and had a noticeable red hue to his small, pointed nose. 

Husk and Angel entered the parlour together, and they both caught sight of the Radio Demon sitting in a corner at once.

Neither of them approached him, instead taking their usual places at the bar.

“Snff- Ndot a word,” Alastor groused, his smile tight and wavering, “I’ll kill that six-winged bastard for doing this to me.”

Pentious and Cherri were next, both in their sweaters, and sharing a blanket around their shoulders.

“Hiya, Charlie,” Cherri waved, her voice scratchy.

Pentious opened his mouth to offer a similar greeting, but instead he hastilly grabbed a corner of the blanket and raised it to his face as he gave a few shaky hitches.

“Heh- IHTSSShhhew! Oh dear,” Pentious waved a hand blearily in front of himself, “I-HIDTSSsshhiew! Ughhh, damn it...”

“Tried to warn ya, babe,” Cherri said with a sniff and a textbook I-told-you-so expression.

“It is well worth it, my dear,” Pentious ran a hand through her hair.

“Oh, not you too,” Charlie walked over to them, “I’m so sorry you guys aren’t feeling well for the holidays...”

“Not your fault,” Cherri waved her off, “Besides, Pen and I can have a little fun with this, can’t we...?”

“Ssscertainly,” Pentious leaned in close to her, and they kissed.

Last, but very much not least, Lucifer came staggering into the parlour, still in his white and gold striped pyjama shorts and a loose T-shirt with a picture of a duck on it. 

“Fuck, he looks like he came off the set a’ Night Of The Living Dead,” Angel whisperer in Husk’s ear.

“Happy- sdrrk--! Happy Sidsbas,” Lucifer tried to say, his consonants muddled with congestion.

Everyone who heard him had to fight to keep the utter pity from their faces.

“’Scuse be,” Lucifer said before giving a gurgling blow into a starry handkerchief he’d been holding, then turning to look at Alastor.

“I see Rudolph’s still here,” Lucifer cracked a grin in Alastor’s direction, earning the odd giggle from a few people around the room.

“Hilarious,” Alastor groaned, pressing a finger under his raw-rimmed nostrils in a futile attempt to stave off a sneeze that had been lurking for the last several minutes.

“ihHIGKZZSHhhew! HETZshhHUE!” he sneezed into a freshly-conjured linen hanky of his own.

“If the power goes out again cause of you, I swear to fuckin’ God...” Husk glared at Alastor, a low growl seeping into his voice.

“So... how are you feeling?” Vaggie asked Lucifer; she figured it was a safe-ish way to test the waters.

“Uhhb...” Lucifer faltered, he wasn’t thinking clearly enough to formulate an excuse.

“Cause no offence, but you sound like absolute shit,” Vaggie finished.

“And you’re clearly runnin’ a bitch of a fever,” Angel commented, “I can almost feel how warm you are from here.”

“I’b dot ruddi’g a fever,” Lucifer tried to protest, “I told you all yesterday, I cad’t be sick, it’s a special day- haehh-hHT- AHTSCHhhheuw! ’KTCHhhHEWW! Dabbit, I’m- hIHH-! IEH’HEDT-sshhIHUE! Augh, fide, fugk all of you, I adbit it! I’b sick. There, I said it!”

“Didn’t need to,” Husk told him, “I’m gonna make hot toddies for you guys, and then Angel and I are gettin’ the hell outta dodge.”

“I’b -snkk! So sorry, Charlie,” Lucifer bowed his head, “This was supposed to be perfect.”

“Hey, what was it you always told me?” Charlie smiled, “Sinsmas is all about making the best of a bad situation.”

Lucifer looked up at his daughter, kind and caring, a shining light in the darkness of Hell itself.

“Come on, let’s watch a movie together,” Charlie suggested. Sure, it may not have been anyone’s ideal holiday, but it was theirs, and they’d take it.

The End

yes i put lyrics from Fairytale Of New York, fuck all yall, I'm Irish and by god I will SHOW IT

I hope you enjoyed this, and I look forward to another awesome year of writing on here!!

[patheticandmiserable]

The holidays are the peak time of year to have a cold tbh. You’re probably around a lot of people who’ve been traveling, it’s cold outside (maybe), it’s warm and comfy inside. Obligatory mention that sneezing into sweater sleeves is cute

Could be seen as a gift for a partner if they’re into it… could be a gift for yourself if you’re into it…

I never travel for Christmas, so like. It wouldn’t bother me. But I rarely ever get sick so that kind of timing is highly unlikely…

[patheticandmiserable]

Millie meeting perfume for the first time, a shame for both girls (especially for Loona), now they will be sneezing their head off.

[patheticandmiserable]

I made an ao3 account under the name patheticandmiserable! I’ll be posting my snz fics over there as well

Pestilence has already been posted

[patheticandmiserable]

hear me out: snzfucker phone sex. someone with a cold sniffling and sneezing into the phone and telling you how contagious they are and how easy it would be to get you sick if they were there with you.

[patheticandmiserable]

Hmm...

after reading the tags on multiple of your posts I think I can conclude that you do enjoy Alastor snz, so, it's my duty to ask-

Do you have any ✨headcannons✨

It's my solemn duty to ask everyone in the Snz Sphere 😅

ooooh brilliant question!!

A/las/tor snz headcanons under le cut

Snz sounds very staticky bc Radio Demon

His stifles are more like "Hnktzsh!" where his natural snz is quite harsh, like: "Hieh-HEHTkzshhiew!"

Yes he always tries to stifle, no it doesn't always work

Allergic to dust, lavender and possibly dogs, and gets chilled more easily than he'd ever admit - come on, the man grew up in Louisiana for Christ's sake, he is NOT used to cold weather at ALL

He. HATES being sick, mostly because of his whole thing about his image but also cause it just sucks for him. He gets weak (his beanpole ass is FRAIL) and he often loses his voice or gets congested when ill, which makes doing his radio show. difficult

His magic goes fucky when he's sick or having a really bad allergic fit, and it's mostly like. Lights in the hotel or wherever flickering, shadows in the hallways, the odd burst of green lightning.

i could go on but i'd never shut up, i love this fucking man

[patheticandmiserable]

cw contagion & mess (a little)

Imagine tying A/lastor up while he’s sick and then inducing him. You make him sneeze over and over while his hands are bound so he can’t cover or wipe his nose or do anything to resist. You see his short, fluffy tail sways faster every time you bring the object you’re inducing him with up to his face again. All he can do is sniffle desperately in between hitching breaths, straining against the ropes as he bends forward with each sneeze, which he tries to aim at the floor (unless you tilt his head up and direct them at yourself). He can’t do anything about the fits of weak coughing either, just keeping his head down and apologizing for getting his germs all over you. You hold a tissue up to his face once the sneezes start getting messy and instruct him to blow his nose. You keep cleaning up his dripping nose, telling him it’ll be so much better once he gets rid of all that congestion.

You keep going until A/lastor says he’s tired or has a headache or his throat hurts, out of breath and looking at you with dazed contentment. He certainly looks like someone who’s been completely wrecked by a cold—his nose is as red as his suit, he never brushed his hair that day, and his ears are flopped back. He sniffles again, sounding much clearer now. “Do you want to lay down?” you ask, because he looks exhausted.

He clears his throat. “Yes,” he tests his voice, and it’s predictably rough and scratchy. You untie him and offer him medicine and something to drink. Then you take A/lastor to bed, pulling the covers over him. He falls asleep quickly, having spent his limited energy putting on a show for you. You leave the tissues close by, because you know he’s going to need them again later.

You may end up catching his cold, but it’s worth it for this.

[patheticandmiserable]

Sinsmas, Derailed - Haz/bin Ho/tel

okay yall listen I was gonna wait to post this till it was completely finished but it's getting longer than I had thought at first and also I've had a fucking rough day and I want smth to be proud of tonight.

Lu/cifer's been overworking himself to help with holiday preparations, he ends up sick and tries to hide it (read: fails miserably)

Featuring an unexpected allergy to scented candles, cute character dynamics, and canon-typical bitchiness from a certain deer.

next part hopefully soon, idfk anymore

Happy Holidays snzblr, yall are legends and I'm genuinely so happy to be here

“You can do this, Luci,” the King Of Hell glared at his reflection as he dabbed white foundation at the dark shadows under his eyes and across the golden-flushed bridge of his nose, “Mind over matter- snnff!”

It was Sinsmas Eve. 

Of course it happened on fucking Sinsmas Eve.

Charlie had been a whirlwind of excitement for weeks; it was her first time hosting the holiday celebrations at the Hazbin Hotel and by God she was going to make it a day to remember. Between the hotel’s usual activities, no-one had even had time to decorate the place yet, but that was all set to change today.

Lucifer, of course, being the former angel of creation, had agreed to help. And he may or may not have spent the last few nights testing out different spells and sets of lights in his room. 

Today, his ambition seemed to have well and truly caught up to him, as he’d awoken from a few precious hours’ slumber to a tickle in his throat and a few sniffles that were rapidly developing into what he could already tell would be a truly hellish head-cold.

Because of-fucking-course, Lucifer thought bitterly, giving another damp sniffle as he ran a brush through his gilded bird’s nest of hair.

Muttering furious curses as it got caught in a tangle.

“Ugh, this is gonna suck,” he sighed, opting to finger-comb his honeyed locks into something that didn’t look like he had recently been dragged through the topiary outside his palace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This is gonna be awesome!” Charlie said, hardly able to keep still as Vaggie dug through boxes of decorations.

It was Charlie’s first Sinsmas Eve running the Hazbin Hotel - and the first she’d spent with her father in years. It had always been her favourite holiday, and she was ecstatic to get to celebrate it with the people she cared about most.

The door opened, and in came Alastor, with a withered-looking tree floating behind him, levitated by Alastor’s magic.

“This was the best I could find,” Alastor began, “Apparently pines don’t grow in Hell.”

“Honestly, it’s fine, Al,” Charlie giggled, “We do things... kinda different here. Half the beauty of Sinsmas is making the best with what we have.”

Alastor snapped his fingers and the tree was upright in a corner. Even on Earth, he’d never exactly been a fan of the tacky festivities of the season, but he’d be double-damned if he was going to allow the hotel to look bad.

Besides, seeing the look on Charlie’s face almost warmed his cold heart by a few degrees. Almost.

“So, what’s it like up there?” Vaggie asked, “Y’know, on Earth.”

“Oh, Christmas is the best!” Niffty squealed, “There’s presents, and food, and we always got snow where I lived, and it was so pretty!”

“Eh, my family wasn’t really one for the fancy side of it,” Angel piped up, “I mean, we’d have ham - fuck, what I wouldn’t give to taste my Nonna’s roast ham again - but we didn’t really do presents. Dad would take us all to church, and that was kinda the end of it. My sister Molly and I used to go out carol singin’, but my older brother Aaron hated it.”

“I don’t know about you, but my family did the works,” Husk said, “As well as we could anyway. It was nice, though. The tree in the family room, presents under it, music playin’ in the stores...” He gave a fond smile.

“Oh, I had no idea you were so sentimental, Whiskers,” Angel sauntered up to him, “I always took ya for this ‘everyone hates me and I hate everyone’ kinda guy.”

“Screw off,” Husk chuckled, “How could I hate everyone when you’re part of ‘everyone’?”

The question achieved its desired effect - Angel flushed bright pink, and his heterochromic eyes sparkled.

“Well, when I was alive, we used to put candles on the tree,” Sir Pentious chimed in, “But the party food was nothing short of ssspectacular!”

“Just so we’re clear, we are not putting candles on this thing,” Vaggie told him sternly.

“Well, obviously you have no taste,” Pentious folded his arms and turned away.

“I thought your dad was gonna do the lights?” Husk said, looking at Charlie.

“Where is Lucifer, anyway?” Vaggie wondered aloud.

“I’m sure he’s just finishing things up,” Charlie smiled, trying to hide the note of worry in her voice.

Hurried footsteps answered, growing louder and louder until the door swung open and hit the wall with a bang. 

“Bringer of Light, comin’ in hot!” Lucifer skidded to a halt on the carpet, and one could swear there were actual sparks flickering at his heels. He was clutching bundles of lights in one arm, and leaning on his cane with the other as he fought to get his breath back.

He straightened, wiping sweat from his brow, and gave an awkward smile.

“Comin’ in hot is right,” Angel observed, looking him up and down, to a glare from Vaggie.

“I mean, ya’ look kinda flushed there,” Angel gestured to his own face.

“I-” Lucifer gasped, “Ran down... I’m okay...” He offered the lights to Charlie with an outstretched, shaking arm.

“Dad, really, there’s no rush,” Charlie took the lights, “We have all day to get the decorations done.”

“But there’s so much to do, and it’s already ten thirty— ahem-hmm!” Lucifer began.

“Okay, first we need to put the lights on the tree and the ceiling,” Vaggie started, her tone a little commanding.

“On it!” Charlie went over to the tree to start weaving the colourful bulbs through bare, spindly branches.

“I’ll help!” Lucifer all but jumped at the chance to assist his daughter, but Alastor appeared from the shadows in front of him.

“Do you really have to do that?” Lucifer asked wearily as Alastor smiled down at him.

“I think I would be better suited to helping Charlie with the lights,” Alastor told him, “You might not be able to reach, Sire...”

Without saying a word, Lucifer took off his jacket, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and straightened his top hat.

Then he let his wings loose, shaking them off briefly before taking off and hovering a few feet above the ground - and notably, his head was now several inches above Alastor’s own.

The Radio Demon’s smile tightened and his brow furrowed as he looked up at Lucifer, who was now looking down at him with a near-perfect mirror of the smug grin Alastor had been wearing mere moments ago.

As Angel and Niffty put tinsel and ornaments on the tree, Lucifer flew around the room slowly, stringing up the lights on the ceiling - yes, he could have simply decorated the whole room with the flick of a wrist, but he opted against that for a few reasons.

Firstly, it was sometimes nice to do things the old-fashioned way for once.

Secondly, the fury in Alastor’s eyes made the physical effort more than worth it.

And lastly - most importantly - Lucifer knew all too well that a malfunction of his powers would be a dead giveaway that he was feeling off. 

No the fuck he wasn’t, he was fine.

He surreptitiously rubbed his nose to avert the beginning of a building itch, hoping that no-one saw.

“Eeeee!” Charlie twirled as Lucifer landed, a web of twinkling lights shining above the parlour like the stars he’d helped create.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyouuuu!” Charlie squeezed her father tightly, taking the wind out of him completely.

“You’re welcome,” Lucifer wheezed out a strained reply, mind racing with anxiety.

Charlie knew him, she’d feel his fever through his shirt, surely- he already felt warm, and being a Morningstar meant it was only going to get worse, and she knew, oh, fuck—

“But Vagathaaa!” came a shout of protest from across the room.

“It’s a fire hazard, Pen,” Vaggie scolded, “Cristo, qué idiota...” 

Charlie swooped in to break up the argument.

“Hey, guys, no bickering on Sinsmas,” she said, “We can put some candles around the room as a compromise, how about that?”

“Oh, very well,” Pentious conceded.

Charlie looked in one of the boxes - and sure enough, there they were, three half-melted candles in glass jars, their wax a brilliant burgundy. The stickers on the jars said “Spiced Apple”.

Perfect.

“Allow me,” Lucifer offered, clicking his fingers and lighting a perfect golden flame on each of them.

“There!” Lucifer stepped back proudly, hands on his hips, as Niffty took one of the candles to the dining room, and Husk brought another out to the main corridor.

As the scent of cinnamon, ginger and fruit filled the room, though, and Lucifer found himself sniffling a lot more often all of a sudden, he realised that there was a slight possibility he might have miscalculated. Just a tad.

“Iehh-heh...” he hitched softly, and he felt the ground drop out from under him as Charlie’s face turned to slight concern before him.

“Everything okay, Dad?” Charlie asked.

Shit!

“Yep!” Lucifer gave a nervous laugh that trailed off into a shaky inhale - and a slow, hesitant exhale, “P-peachy keen Charlieeehh-Heh-EHT-!”

Lucifer turned away from Charlie and pressed a hand to his face in an attempt to stop the burning itch in his sinuses.

To absolutely no avail.

“Hehh’EIKTSCHHhew!” Lucifer snapped forward with a violent sneeze, “Oh mby- snff, my golly, I’m so... hht... hihhtTIISCHhh! EIISHhh’EW! Igk’KGTSHh, MMNXT'shh, HNnkxt’tieew, HNGK’chiew!” 

One hand pinched his nostrils tightly, while the other was flapping in front of the monarch’s face.

Everyone was so focused on the spectacle that was King Lucifer, that no-one noticed the sky darkening outside.

“The fuck’s with him?” Husk asked from the doorway- jeez, he leaves for two entire minutes and comes back to this.

“Nothihiihhgk- IKSHH! IEKSHHEW! KTSCHHIH!” Lucifer tried to say, but was cut off by high-pitched, itchy sneezes that seemed to come out on top of each other.

“What happened?” Charlie’s hands fidgeted as she looked on, eyes wide and worried.

“Iihhh...” Lucifer started, trying to get his breathing under control so he could speak to her, dammit, “S’finde, Charlie, I just- snfSNF! Egh. Candle’s getting to me a little– but it’s okay, really!” he added hastily, noticing the anxious look on Charlie’s face, “Seriously, I don’t mind, it’s- ihh... wonderful.”

“Are you sure?” Charlie asked, “I can put them out, that was... a lot.”

“Yeah!” Lucifer replied, “I can handle this, I’m- ihht- I'm thehehh-IHH-”

The attempt at “I’m the King of Hell” fizzled out as Lucifer’s expression slackened.

“We may wanna step back,” Charlie whispered as Lucifer tented his hands over his face and leaned backwards, his breath coming in sharp gasps.

“Ihh’HIEGK-! ’TCHHHhieww! Ohhhh fuck- ghHEH! Egk’TSHHIEW! ’SCHHEW! IhhHIKTCHIIEW! Ugh, shit... hhht-! Nonono- ehIHh-- HADT-SCHHIEEWW!”

A booming roll of thunder sounded directly over the hotel, accompanied by a flash of gold lightning outside the window.

Lucifer clasped both hands over his face - if he wasn’t flushed before then he sure as all the seven rings was now.

“Ooh, it’s snowing!” Niffty ran to the window.

Everyone else quickly followed suit - since fucking when did it snow in Hell?

And it certainly was. A veritable blizzard, blown by strong gales that whistled along the streets of Pentagram City, to be precise.

“Fuuuuck...” Lucifer hissed between his teeth.

“Oh. My. Gosh,” Charlie gazed out, “Actual snow.”

“Man, how long has it been since any of us have seen a white Christmas?” Husk asked, a small smile on his face.

“It’s a Sinsmas miracle!” Angel said jovially.

“Hey, maybe once the wind settles down we can go out and make snow angels!” Niffty suggested.

“Wouldn’t it be snow devils down here?” Pentious wondered vaguely.

“You’re right,” Niffty replied.

Lucifer, though, had a feeling things weren’t going to “settle down” any time soon - and especially not if he stayed here, but he couldn’t just leave...

“HEDT-SHhheew! Igh- EIKT’IESHHhhieuw!” Lucifer sneezed again, snapping forward as the wind surged outside.

“I think you might wanna step out for a bit,” Angel pointed out, “That sounds fuckin’ rough.”

“Mmhm,” Lucifer raised his head and rubbed tears from irritated eyes, “I thigk- snff- I’m gonna go and lie down, this is gonna drive me nuts...”

Lucifer walked briskly out the door, his exit punctuated with a pair of harsh, tickly sneezes that one could just tell - without even seeing him - had bent him so sharply forward there was a chance he’d pulled something.

The soft groan that followed only added weight to this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That was way too close, Lucifer thought to himself over and over and over as he half-ran to his room. 

Closing the ornate door behind him with a click, he summoned a box of tissues from the ether, pressing one to his face as his breath shuddered.

“Ihhgh-TCHHEW! Aeh’EETSHhieh! Hg- heh- HUH-IHSHhhhiuw! ’TSHhheeww!! Eugh, fucki’g- snrk-! great.”

He blew his nose, wincing at the sound, and threw the used tissues in the trash.

His make-up definitely hadn’t survived that.

He was just about to dart to his mirror and wipe the tear stains from his cheeks when something clicked.

He was, rather inconveniently, allergic to the scented candles downstairs.

But, he reflected, that meant he didn’t have to hide his symptoms.

Thank. Fucking. Creation.

He’d go back down there later, but for now, he was going to lie the hell down - sneezing so much had left him light-headed, and the pressure headache developing behind his eyes wasn’t helping in the least.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

No-one anticipated the swift knock at the door, but Charlie got up to answer it anyway - whoever had come here in this weather clearly needed help.

Charlie was expecting a truly desperate Sinner, or maybe an imp on the run.

She was not, however, expecting the tall, leather-jacket-clad form of Cherri Bomb to greet her at the door, with snow dusting her shoulders and her sunset-pink hair.

“’Sup, Princess?” Cherri smiled, singular eyebrow raised as she crossed the threshold.

“Cherri!” Charlie said, “Oh my gosh, come in, it must be freezing out there!”

“Can’t feel my bloody hands,” Cherri replied with a shiver, “We never really got snow in Perth, this is new to me.”

“Here, I’ll make you, uh... mulled wine! That’ll warm you up in no time!” Charlie darted off to the kitchen.

“I know somethin’ that’ll do the trick,” Cherri muttered, casting a glance across the room, “Oi, Pen!”

“Oh goodnessss!” Sir Pentious slithered as quickly as he could across the room, and wrapped his arms around her, “My love, you’re so cold-”

Pentious cut himself off when Cherri gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. That alone was enough to get the both of them blushing a little - and took the chill out of Cherri’s face as she walked into the parlour.

“Ooh, yesss,” Pentious’s expression softened from worry to sweet fondness.

“Angieeee,” Cherri smiled.

“No shit!” Angel laughed, running up to hug his friend, “How’ve ya been?”

“Bored as fuck,” Cherri answered, “No-one else is doing anything with this storm, so I figured I’d swing by.”

“As you should,” Angel said, “It looks ugly out there.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” Cherri shivered again, “I don’t think it’s stopping any time soon, I’m just glad I got here before the doors froze shut.”

She sat down on a couch in the parlour.

“Charlie told me to give ya this,” Husk walked over, carring two mugs of mulled wine, the liquid a deep, dark red. He handed one to her, and placed the other on the coffee table.

“Thanks, mate,” Cherri nodded, breathing in the sweetly scented steam and taking a slow sip, “Ahh, that’s nice. Wouldn’t be my go-to for gettin’ plastered, but it tastes good, at least.”

“Cherri?” came Pentious’s voice from the doorway.

“Crikey!” Cherri startled, looking up to see him - when had he left and then came back without her noticing?

He was holding a fluffy blanket, going over to the couch and sitting beside her, putting the blanket over them both and taking his own mug from the table.

“Thanks, Pentious,” Cherri whispered, her face softening, “Can’t seem to get warm...”

“Oh- is it because I’m cold-blooded?” Pentious asked.

“Nah, nah,” Cherri shook her head, “Just not really used to this kinda weather, is all.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“IhHH’IKSHhheww! Ehh-? EITISHhhhHIEW! HIKSHhhiew- ieh-hgh... Hh-! AEKT’ISSHhhue! Ughhh, fuck this!”

Lucifer sat at the desk in his room, his jacket lying across the back of his chair, his shirt and waistcoat open. He felt uncomfortably hot, and it was becoming increasingly obvious to anyone who saw him from the brightening flush to his face, the glimmer of sweat on his brow.

He reflected that he was probably just about the only person in the Pentagram who was warm right now; the storm out the window - the one he’d caused - was truly raging by now, and the city’s streets were dead quiet.

Surely, he thought, no-one in their right mind had gone out in this...

Three sharp knocks at his door.

“Snff-! Come in,” Lucifer said, and immediately felt a hand on his shoulder, and gave a yelp that cracked in the middle.

He turned his head to see the Radio Demon standing behind him, smiling.

“Goodness, sire,” Alastor put on a tone of concern that bordered on mockery, drawing his hand away, “You’re practically aflame!”

“If that’s your weird, old-timey way of- sndk- calli’g mbe hot-” Lucifer started, cutting himself off with a few coughs.

“On the contrary,” Alastor kept going, and yep, that was definitely mockery, “You’re clearly feverish, and-”

“HeghHHT-AHTschhHIEW!”

“You do realise I’ve heard you sneezing ever since you left the parlour?” Alastor continued, without missing a beat. 

Lucifer let out a strangled sort of hmm-! sound that he passed off as clearing his throat.

“You’re sick, aren’t you?” Alastor asked.

Oh, fuck.

“What?” Lucifer started, a nervous, wheezing laugh running through the word, “Ndo! Wh- why would you think that? I’b- snnrk-! I’b fide!”

“The fact that the word ‘fine’ doesn’t have a ‘D’ in it, for a start,” Alastor answered.

“I’b- hang odd, sorry,” Lucifer paused to blow his nose again, “I’m not sick. I’m allergic to the candles downstairs - and your bullshit, as a matter of fact, so do us both a favour and fuck off.”

“Last I checked, allergies don’t cause a fever so high you function as a radiator,” Alastor observed.

“And last I checked,” Lucifer retorted plainly, “that’s none of your business. Did you have anything else to say, or are you just here to be bitchy?”

“Oh, forgive me!” Alastor laughed, “I did get sidetracked. I came up to let you know we have a guest.”

The gasp of surprise sent Lucifer into another fit of harsh coughs.

“What?” he managed.

“You remember Cherri Bomb, don’t you?” Alastor asked, “She decided to pay a visit, and I rather think it would be appreciated if you show your face down there. It’s Sinsmas Eve, after all! It wouldn’t do to neglect your duties as host. Oh, but let’s not kid ourselves-” Alastor continued as the king began to almost literally smoulder with rage - there was steam twirling up from the top of his head as the sweat from his hair evaporated.

“Whatever the circumstance of your... condition, you wouldn’t exactly be desirable company like this.”

“Okay, fuck you all the way to Alpha goddamn Centauri,” Lucifer stood, and swayed on his feet slightly before steadying himself on the desk, “I’m gonna get changed and go down there ri-hhight-- ihgkh-?”

“Take your time,” Alastor smirked.

“Ih-eihh- Hh’AEGHT-schhHEW! ’TSHHHIEW!” Lucifer snapped forward into cupped hands. Alastor took two steps back as Lucifer groaned.

“Leave. Ndow,” Lucifer glared up at him, hands still covering the lower half of his face.

“As you wish,” Alastor walked to the door, “Feel better soon, Your Majesty!” 

The taller demon walked out the door and shut it behind him.

Lucifer grabbed a handful of tissues to clean himself up, and then groaned in frustration.

He rummaged through his closet for something cooler to wear - if he stayed in his usual ringleader getup, he’d melt. Finally, he found a loose, short-sleeved button-up in red and white. Suitably festive, and not as tight as what he’d typically wear. And what’s more - it had a breast pocket, which Lucifer placed a fresh handkerchief into, folded into a neat square.

Perfect.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That's the end of part one, guys! Stay tuned...

[patheticandmiserable]

I’ve been so loving the phrasing of “cold/flu/illness-ridden” lately, e.g.:

“They pawed at their cold-ridden nose, tinging it redder at the tip.”

“An all too familiar prickling sensation tickled away at their cold-ridden sinuses.”

“The silence was filled only with small sniffles and the clear of a cold-ridden throat.”

“Their next breath snagged in their cold-ridden lungs, sending them into another coughing fit.”

“Fever-rouged cheeks” or “features rouged with fever” etc. are also personal favorites as of late 🥰

[patheticandmiserable]

Some BDSnzM Ideas/Prompts (NSFW, 18+ only as always)

Bindings:

🧵 Incorporating an allergen, perfume, or fabric/scent sensitivity into the restraints themselves of the sub.

🧣 Binding a sick character with their own scarf.

🐕‍🦺 Inducing a sub while holding a leash around their neck. Maybe it even helps keep them still or means they can’t get away from that inducing tool/allergen…

🪢 Similarly, a sub tied by leash or wrist binding to a bedpost/desk near an allergen. Or perhaps to bound to a tree with flowers practically overflowing with pollen.

👁️ A dom inducing themselves while their sub has to just watch because they’re bound, unable to move to touch themselves or to speed up the inducing process.

Orders and rewards:

⏱️ An order to hold back for a specific amount of time, counting out loud or even using a stopwatch.

🔊 An order to achieve the right sound/number/type of sneeze. E.g. “I want them soft and contained, all right?” or “I want them loud and messy, all right?” or “No more than three.”

🗣️ An order to bless the dom after they sneeze.

🙏 An order to thank the dom after blessing their sub. Punishments for being impolite~

⭐️ For good behavior, some reward ideas: allowed to sneeze, blow their nose, remove one allergenic flower from an inducing bouquet, take cold medicine, etc.

Games and scenarios:

🌡️ Very gentle and attentive because 1+ of them is sick. Maybe they’re even in pajamas/sweaters, use loose restraints made of soft material, or get some sexual rewards for everything they do to take care of themselves.

😉 A dom trying to maintain their composure, but they’re starting to really need to sneeze. Maybe their attempt to hold back results in sneezing on their partner, who could be into it or not.

🖐️ “Wherever you sneeze on my body, I’ll touch on yours.”

🩲 One sneeze = one clothing item removed. Like strip poker, but with inducing.

🎭 Roleplay ideas pt. 1: a doctor tending very well to their patient (or knight to royalty), an aroused florist with their allergic and indecisive client (could also take place at a candle or perfume shop), sneezy strangers dancing at a party or masquerade ball, a hero captured by a villain while sick/near allergens/induced by them.

🎭 Roleplay ideas pt. 2: a makeup artist and their sensitive subject, a maid with a feather duster and an aroused superior, a stern librarian scolding and punishing someone allergic to dust for making noise, and (of course) sneezing while hiding.

🪶 A dom dragging a feather slowly across the body of their blindfolded sub until they reach their sensitive nose. Or, if they use an allergen, they can have the sub guess what they’re using—a wrong answer resulting in punishment.

😶‍🌫️ Riskily teasing a sub (verbally, sexually, and/or inducing) when one of them has to sneeze while hiding together.

📖 A little game where the sub has to read as long as possible from an extremely dusty book without sneezing. Could be timed, even.

🔄 An induced sub insists that it’s impossible to hold back, saying that their dom wouldn’t be able to either in their position. Dom challenges them on it, daring the sub to induce them. If they sneeze, sub is proven right and gets a reward. If they don’t sneeze, sub is proven wrong and gets a punishment.

[patheticandmiserable]

Nobody calls something “titillating” if they aren’t at least a little into it

stumbled upon this little excerpt and it is FIRE 😳

[patheticandmiserable]

Do you think his feathers fluff up when he sneezes-

[patheticandmiserable]

so to my surprise i am suddenly. very much down bad for And/real/phus and Vas/sago

fuckin. fruity ass birds

headcanons to follow courtesy of late night rambles with @rosieknows

[patheticandmiserable]

I think that this is pretty much what everyone in the whump community wants (Me included) after the recent episode

~Spoilers under cut~

"Yeah, definitely a fever."

I need a fic about this so baddd