#I left things vague re: the time period but I was imagining this is pre-Nicky

[snezus-christ-risen]

Insult to Injury

Agatha/Rio - 4.1k words - Illness (Agatha)

Debuting what I hope is the first of many AAA fanfics. I had so much fun writing these two and I’ll probably do a second part to this story. I hope you all enjoy this as much as I’ve enjoyed reading all of the fantastic work ya’ll have been putting out! It’s a little messy and there are some NSFW elements. Minors DNI.

~~~

There was something off about the air on that otherwise fresh spring day. It was driving Rio to madness, not knowing what it was or why it was affecting her so strongly. All she knew was that some primal heat drove her forward through the woods, the smell growing stronger with every step she took towards the cottage that stood just beyond the edge of the forest. After spending days apart from her lover, excitement fluttered in her chest at the thought of what state she might find her in upon their reunion. Nevertheless, Rio chose to remain on the scenic route, choosing anticipation over the instant gratification that came with ripping open the fabric of reality and using it as a shortcut.

After a few more steps the scent of sickness snapped into focus, honeyed and intoxicating like an aged brandy. Absent was the heady tang of bloodshed (boo) or the cloying rot of old age; it was something altogether unique and pleasant, drawing her towards the dwelling the same way instinct compelled a bee to the flower fields. Rio took a moment, upon reaching the front door, to shake her body like a dog, hoping to dispel some of the giddiness that had built up during her walk.

Take it easy, she told herself. She will be delicate.

Occasionally Rio needed to remind herself that even at her healthiest, and regardless of her powers, Agatha was still flesh and bone. Just thinking about the delicate nature of her mortal lover was getting her all worked up again, which was the opposite of what she was trying to accomplish. Taking a deep breath, Rio let it out slowly and knocked on the door. She surmised, from the lack of response, that the occupant within was unconscious. Certainly not dead; she would have known if that were the case. Directing a breeze to push the door open, she stepped inside.

There was a bit of a chill in the air, and Rio soon saw why; one of the windows was half-opened, its tattered curtains rippling in the breeze. Though it was technically spring, they had just had a snowfall last week, and the day outside was brisk. Buzzing with anticipation (and a little annoyance at the window situation), Rio crept across the threshold with the quiet energy of an owl readying its talons for a mouse.

She could see a figure sprawled across the bed. Rio closed the space between the doorway and the bedside in just a few strides, eager to investigate the scene. Agatha lay there in a tangle of damp sheets and disheveled hair, breathing noisily through parted lips. Her nose was tinged red and glistening around the nostrils, the skin chapped from rough and repetitive contact. Her skin, flushed pink with fever, peeked through the bindings of her bedding, inviting Rio to touch. But she wouldn’t… not yet…

Grinning devilishly, Rio produced a bushel of baby’s breath in her upturned palm. Her smile faded when she remembered that Agatha was allergic; she didn’t want to kill the woman, at least not before she could have some fun with her. She waved the little white flowers out through the open window before conjuring up an unassuming yarrow. Giving her newest creation an once-over, she identified the perfect leaf… there… and plucked it. It looked tickly enough to get the job done without triggering an allergic reaction. Agatha would already be miserable about taking ill, without the added burden of having to contend with her allergies. Rio didn’t see the point of adding insult to injury.

Twirling the leaf between her thumb and forefinger, she tested it along a naked stretch of thigh. Her leg hairs rose in response to the stimulation, a reminder that, as much as Rio craved her death, there was so much she enjoyed about the complex simplicity of her flesh - its heat, its softness, the way it reacted whenever she touched it. She continued dragging the leaf along Agatha’s leg, scaling over a twisted hump of blanket before sliding down the exposed curve of her hip. After working her way up inch by inch, over sections of bedsheets and skin, Rio finally settled the frond against Agatha’s throat like a knife.

It was here that she finally stirred, her hand moving just enough to call Rio’s attention to the lace handkerchief she was clutching like a security blanket. Her eyes lit up at this delightful observation as she lifted the leaf from her skin, holding completely still until Agatha settled again with a sigh. Then Rio sat down on the edge of the bed, moving slowly to avoid disturbing her. Disturbing her was still on the agenda, of course, but for that she had something more fun in mind. Leaning in with the concentration of an artist putting the finishing touches on her work, Rio swept the tip of the leaf up the length of Agatha’s nose and back down again. As soon as she got to the reddened rims of her nostrils they twitched, the feather-light touch tickling just enough to make Agatha scrunch her nose. She made a weak attempt to swat away the source of her irritation, brow furrowing as she turned her face into her pillow.

Rio was considering her next course of action when Agatha lifted her head slightly, eyes still closed, lips parted and quivering, and eyebrows raised expectantly. Mesmerized, she watched as Agatha panted softly before plunging her face back into the pillow. The bed rocked gently as she muffled two sneezes - “ih’TSHh!-h’TSHhh’uh” - followed by a long, congested moan.

It was Rio’s laughter, more than the sneezing, that boosted Agatha past the threshold of semi-consciousness. She was still working on opening her eyes all the way, but had the wherewithal to bring her handkerchief up to cover her nose when she turned to look up at Rio. The latter flashed her a cunning grin as she actively fought against the urge to straddle her.

“Bless you,” she purred, tapping her forehead with the tip of the leaf. “What do you have brewing in here?”

She would have stroked it down the length of her nose again if Agatha didn’t grab it immediately, her reflexes surprisingly sharp for someone still waking up in a fever haze. They both held onto it for a moment before Rio released it, hands and eyebrows raised in mock surrender. Agatha immediately tossed it aside, but it didn’t go far, landing on the edge of the bed next to Rio, who brushed it onto the floor. After a brief and unsuccessful struggle to sit up, Agatha settled for propping herself against her pillows, where she proceeded to stare at Rio in a state of mild delirium.

“I think I have a fever,” she said, unexpectedly forthcoming.

Rio opened her mouth in a silent gasp, feigning surprise. Leaning forward, she cupped one hand against Agatha’s cheek, using the other to gently pry her hand away from her nose. With the handkerchief out of the way, she could inspect it to her satisfaction. How much abuse had it taken before she arrived? It seemed to be running relentlessly, the skin around her nostrils painfully raw from all the wiping. Agatha was always so rough with her nose, like she was punishing it for daring to act according to its nature. More than happy to provide the tender loving care it was missing, Rio gave it a kiss before using the pad of her thumb to gently swipe the mess from her upper lip. Agatha shivered as she squinted up at her in silent indignation, too lethargic to object to her fussing.

“My love,” Rio cooed, unable to mask her delight. “You’ve caught a chill.”

“Don’t sound so excited,” Agatha deadpanned, wincing as her voice grated against her throat.

“I can’t help it,” she said, smirking when Agatha jerked to the side to cough before burying her nose in her handkerchief. “Just look at you, you’re pathetic. It’s beautiful.”

Agatha stopped blowing her nose to glare at her. She started to say something but quickly changed course, the catch in her breath and her crumpling expression announcing a more pressing need. It was terrible timing, having just been called pathetic; her ego didn’t want her to back down without a fight, but Agatha knew she didn’t stand a chance against this tickle. Waving her handkerchief like a flag of surrender, she brought it back to her face just in time to smother an itchy-sounding “hiih‘ISHHhyoo!”

Rio watched hungrily as her chest rose and fell, attending to every little snag and pitch change in her breath. Agatha had the tendency to sneeze in pairs, but sometimes the second one needed a little more time to come to fruition, which drove both of them crazy in different ways. When she finally managed to draw a solid breath she held it, nostrils flickering expectantly, before releasing it in an aggravated huff. Rio hummed with sympathy, knowing how much she hated losing a sneeze once it got started. Agatha finished blowing her nose, the crackling rush of loosened congestion quickly giving way to airy, unproductive blows. When she tried to breathe through her nose again, Rio could hear the air squeaking as it struggled through inflamed passageways. Rising from the bed, she padded over to the kitchen, stopping to make a show of closing the open window along the way.

“Where are you going?” came Agatha’s voice, meek and plaintive, from behind her.

“Not far,” she said, infuriatingly vague.

Agatha sank back against her pillows, too tired to pry any further, and watched with drowsy indifference as Rio staged a hostile takeover of her kitchen. Filling the kettle with water, Rio placed it on the trivet before surveying the items on the shelves. She trailed her nails along a row of jars as she contemplated her selection, and every now and then she would make a comment and laugh to herself. When she found what she needed she sat down at the table to prepare her ingredients. Periodically she found her gaze wandering over to check on Agatha, who was drifting in and out of sleep.

As soon as the kettle began whistling Rio removed it from the stove, pouring the water over the satchel of fresh herbs and letting it steep. Agatha was snoring steadily now, which helped Rio to feel a little less guilty about waking her up earlier. She got so distracted watching her that she almost forgot about the concoction cooling on the counter. Rio knew it would be bitter, so she added a generous amount of honey to help with the taste. She took a sip before recoiling with a full-bodied shudder; it was definitely sweet enough, but it was also a whole bunch of other things that Agatha was going to hate.

Rio was finishing up in the kitchen when Agatha woke up again, looking confused as she wiped her mouth, then her nose with the back of her hand. She had managed to glean enough energy from her short nap to sit upright, but that was as far as her body would allow her to go. Her sinuses adjusted quickly to the change in altitude, congestion softening and shifting and - “h’heh!” - tickling. Grabbing a clean handkerchief from the nightstand, Agatha tried to nip it in the bud with a series of forceful blows. While it left her feeling woozy, it also managed to scratch at the deep, quivering itch in the center of her face, reducing it to a mild annoyance. Just in time for her other mild annoyance to return.

“What do you have there?” she asked as Rio strolled over, sucking honey off her fingers one by one.

“Poison.” She gave her most menacing grin, short of showing her true face. “To put you out of your misery.”

She handed the cup to Agatha with a wink, her smile softening as she rejoined her on the bed. Agatha stared into the murky amber contents of her cup before glancing back up at Rio, expression unsure. Snorting out a laugh, Rio gave her a nod of encouragement.

“Drink,” she insisted. “It shouldn’t kill you, but it might help you feel better. I make no guarantees either way.”

Agatha hesitated before bringing the cup to her lips, testing the temperature of the liquid. Finding it suitable, she took a sip, closing her eyes tightly and screwing up her face as she swallowed. Not only was her throat raw, but the drink had a pungent, peppery aftertaste that made her sinuses prickle. Shaking her head, she tried to return the cup, but Rio resisted, folding her arms and leaving Agatha with no choice but to hold it.

“I know, it’s awful,” Rio sympathized, misreading the situation. “But I think it might help with the-”

“Would you just t-take it, please…”

As soon as Agatha spoke, Rio realized her mistake. Her voice only ever sounded that breathy and desperate for two reasons, and Rio was almost certain she could rule out one of them. Moving quickly, she took the cup from Agatha, who managed a wobbly look of gratitude before steepling her hands over her nose. Her shoulders scrunched up with the first palm-drenching release and Rio shivered, finding herself, as she often did, envious of her lover’s hands.

“hih’tCHSHh!-u… h’hiih!” The tickle teased her for a bit, making her breath flutter indecisively, before culminating in a spraying conclusion. “hihh’YSHHhhieu!”

With how messy those sneezes had been, Agatha was in no hurry to lower her hands. She kept them locked in place, attempting to rein in the persistent flow of congestion with slow, careful sniffles as she cast about for a handkerchief. Spotting the lacy white square crumbled up between the bedsheets, she reached for it, keeping one hand cupped protectively over her nose. Rio beat her to it, seizing the handkerchief with a victorious cackle.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, dangling it in front of Agatha, just out of reach. “Bit of a mess on your hands?”

Rio knew she was poking the bruises of an already wounded ego, but it didn’t stop her from looking aggrieved when Agatha yanked the handkerchief from her hand. Clutching at her nose through the fabric, Agatha leaned forward to press her other hand against her lover’s inner thigh. Rio gasped at the unexpected pressure, then froze as Agatha dragged it down her leg, wiping off the fluids that coated her hand.

“Consolation prize,” she said, giving Rio a knowing look. “I don’t want you feeling left out.”

Then she started blowing her nose, loudly, using so much force that she had to secure the handkerchief in place with both hands. It was a classic Agatha move, an obnoxious attempt to secure the last word, but for once, Rio was speechless. Not only was she flustered, but there were so many distractions vying for her attention, scents and sounds and sensations swirling around her like leaves in an autumn breeze. Agatha was right - she was jealous, longing to switch places with the cloth that covered her mouth and nose. Rio closed her eyes, held her breath, and stroked her own leg, probing at the slightly damp spots in the fabric as she tried (and failed) to ground herself.

When she opened her eyes again, it was because Agatha sniffled and it sounded so close. There she was, taking her cup back from Rio with the dexterity of a natural thief, her careful efforts to avoid detection thwarted by her own reflexes. When she caught Rio watching her she smiled coyly, lifting the cup in a mock toast instead of pitching its contents to the floor as she had originally planned. Then she placed it amongst the clutter on the bedside table, where it would most likely sit, forgotten, for a while.

Before Rio could voice her disapproval Agatha was intercepting her lips, slamming against her body like a wall of pure heat. She needed a moment to process this pleasant surprise, but once she found her bearings Rio kissed back, threading her fingers through dark tresses and using them to tug Agatha closer. Hands that had known nothing but restraint since she first arrived were free to wander the fevered landscape of her body. It was a bit distracting how much skinnier Agatha felt since the last time they touched like this. How long had she been unwell for? Had she been eating enough — or at all? Questions she wished she had asked when she first arrived kept popping into her head, making it difficult to focus on the task at hand.

Whatever surge of energy compelled Agatha into her arms seemed to dissolve as quickly as it came. Unfortunately, being sick didn’t make her any less stubborn. She refused to listen to what her body was trying to tell her, choosing instead to push through the discomfort. Even with the blankets and their combined body heat Agatha couldn’t stop shivering, and she kept whirling away to cough, catch her breath, or swipe impatiently at her nose. Rio always welcomed her lips back with enthusiasm, but she was starting to question her ability to handle what this was building towards. Things between them had the tendency to burn out of control pretty quickly, and even if they were capable of practicing restraint, neither of them wanted to. As much as she wanted to keep going, Rio decided it was time to call a moratorium on their activities after the next interruption.

It happened sooner than she hoped, but not as soon as she expected. Agatha gradually disengaged from the kiss, turning away not with a flourish like all the other times but with slow, hazy uncertainty. One of her hands migrated up Rio’s body, reemerging from her clothing to hover near her nose. Rio removed her other hand from the side of her face and held it as if it were a small, injured animal, rubbing her thumb against her palm as she watched and waited. The handkerchiefs were lost to the bed sheets again, but Rio couldn’t tear her focus away long enough to look for one, and Agatha didn’t even bother trying. She was starting to resent her growing reliance on them, and while her hand was hardly a suitable alternative, she was a few degrees Fahrenheit past the point of caring.

The first sneeze tore out of her - “ET’SHhhiew!” - with unexpected force, carrying with it the weight of her building frustration. It left her hand soaked and her head reeling, and in pursuit of something solid to hold onto she reached instinctively for Rio. Agatha turned into her shoulder with a jagged inhale, releasing a shamelessly desperate “ihy’EESHhew!” that sent shivers through her body.

“Salud,” Rio said, somehow sounding both impressed and apologetic as Agatha slumped back against the headboard in a daze. She didn’t get sick in the same way mortals did, so while she found the process captivating (and arousing), it was hard not to experience something akin to survivor’s guilt in situations like this. “You know, sweetheart, we don’t have to keep going.”

Agatha didn’t respond, nor did she tend to her nose right away, choosing instead to let it trickle down to her lips while she waited for the dizziness to pass. Finally managing to make herself useful, Rio fished a clean handkerchief out of the sea of miscellaneous items on the nightstand. She used it to pat gingerly at the mess on her upper lip, cleaning up what she could before Agatha took over control of the cloth. As always, her touch was a lot rougher, impatient even, and she gave her nose a hasty blow before tossing the handkerchief aside. Despite her obvious misery, or perhaps because of it, she was determined to pick up from where they left off. When she leaned back in for a kiss, Rio stopped her, pressing her hand to her chest with a gentle look. Agatha sat back, looking confused and a little hurt; it was rare for Rio to rebuff her advances.

“What do you say we take a break and get you into some warm clothing, hm?” Rio suggested, softly stroking the hair that spilled over her shoulders. “Maybe have a bath, or something to eat?”

Though Agatha chose not to answer, the increasingly complex mosaic of emotions on her face said plenty. Rio realized, too late, that she failed to explain the reasoning for her rejection. She didn’t want Agatha getting the wrong idea and thinking she was disgusted by her symptoms. It wasn’t that Rio kept her interests a secret; even if she hadn’t stated them explicitly and repeatedly, she would have thought the way she clung to Agatha during allergy season or whenever she got sick spoke volumes. While it wasn’t her intention, her dedication to transparency only seemed to make Agatha feel more self-conscious. She valued her power and control, so to willingly surrender both in order to make a mess of herself in front of her girlfriend was something she was still getting used to. Hoping to prove just how unbothered she was, Rio leaned in to give her a kiss, but it landed on her cheek as Agatha turned her head, redirecting a tearful glare meant for Rio towards the nightstand.

“Sweetheart,” Rio sighed. “Please don’t be like that. You know how much I want this - want you, but my love… you’re aren’t well. I don’t want to hurt you while you’re all–”

“Pathetic?” Agatha spat, still refusing to look at her.

“… sick,” she finished, frowning. “Agatha, you are burning up with fever, and I don’t think this isn’t helping.”

“Oh, please.” The other witch waved dismissively before folding her arms across her chest. “You know I run hot.”

“Not this hot,” Rio said, but Agatha was making it clear through her increasingly defensive body language that she was finished with this conversation. Rio sighed, anticipating more resistance as she returned to the topic of dinner. “Sick or not, you still need to eat. Do you have an appetite for anything besides me?”

She hoped the joke would lighten the tension, but if the hard set of her jaw was any indication, Agatha was not amused. An uncomfortable mixture of emotions was simmering just below the surface, but instead of taking time to process them she defaulted to anger, her comfort zone. She turned to glower at Rio, who could tell from the look in her eyes that she was about to say something hurtful.

“Did you come here to fuck me or take care of me?” she asked, her venomous tone undercut by the tremor in her voice. “Because you’re doing a terrible job of both.”

Rio felt her heart sink, but tried her best not to show it. Given how miserable Agatha was feeling, she was trying to be understanding, but her patience was starting to wane. Her gaze flickered over to the drink she had made, cold and abandoned on the nightstand, as she considered her next move. She could retaliate verbally, but she was afraid of what might come out of her mouth if she opened it. She could just fucking leave, if that was how the ungrateful witch felt - but she knew it wasn’t, not really. Besides, Rio didn’t want to leave. What she wanted was to stay and take care of her ill (and ill-tempered) girlfriend, but she decided that first she would go for a walk. Whatever was happening between them right now felt heavy and menacing and charged, like the air before a thunderstorm, and Rio feared what might happen if they stayed in the same space together for much longer.

It all dissipated in a dizzying rush the moment she stood up and started walking towards the door. She barely made it three steps before Agatha was scrambling to disentangle herself from her blankets.

“Wait!” she squeaked, stumbling out of bed to trail Rio in a misty-eyed panic. “I didn’t mean it, my love. Please, don’t go.”

It was the genuine desperation in her voice that made Rio turn around, just in time to catch Agatha as her legs gave out. Rio held her in a secure embrace, supporting her full weight until she stopped shaking. Then she half-carried her back to the bed, peppering Agatha with soft kisses and words of reassurance as she helped her lie back down. As soon as Rio crawled into bed beside her Agatha burrowed into her chest, her tears seeping through her clothing as they started flowing in earnest. Every now and then she would whimper something, but with her voice failing and her congestion worsening by the minute, Rio could only guess at what she was saying and respond accordingly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Rio said, holding Agatha close. “I’m not going anywhere.”