#WHAT!!!! I TRULY DO SUCK!!!! now i deserve this cup of noodles ugh

[triglycercule]

i feel like such a loser eating instant noodles for dinner (TWO cups because goddamn it its NEVER enough) is this what my trio eats on a night to night basis. now i know DAMN well horror's complaining about eating this shit. killer wouldn't even let his cool down before eating and then acts surprised when dust and horror point out the fact that he can't chew properly anymore (GODDAMN BODY HOLDING HIM BACK ONCE AGAIN.....)

dust my normal king dust my only mildly smart king. you will always be the realest. the only one that considers paying at restaurants (although he probably ditches that idea bc killer's right ditching IS easier! and less money out of his brokeass pocket. alright horror let's steal as much food as we can by shoving it into your skull!)

[jadethest0ne]

In need of Refueling, Chapter 12 - “He was supposed to be”

Summary:  “You?! Why would I trust you? You have brought me nothing but failure. Time and time again; nothing but disappointment!”

His father’s words might have been a result of his possession by the  White Bone Spirit, but whether or not they were his true thoughts, Red  Son vows to prove them wrong. To do so he seeks to attain a power strong enough to destroy his father’s immortal enemy. After all, he’d much rather throw fire at his problems.

Word Count: 3241

Ratings/Warnings:  Teen and up; injury, burns, angst and hurt/comfort, toxic thoughts caused by toxic parents, panic attacks, abuse

Notes: Red Son is brooding, Mei finds out that Red Son is Sandy’s house guest, and Sandy is trying his best to deal with two rowdy teens.

Credits: Big thanks to @painted-arachnid and @simplyfornardo  for helping me bounce ideas off of them. And also thanks to @lemonsqueazie for providing me with “Journey to the West” lore. I don’t know much about the original novel or other iterations, but I still tried to keep  some things compliant with the lore. You should check all of them out, since they’re really great content creators with neat ideas!  

Read on AO3

———-

All in all, Red Son had received a lot of injuries from his conflict with his father.  Broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, a broken arm, burns, hypothermia (including a lingering cold sensation all over his body that refused to go away), a sprained ankle...

And no powers.

That last one gave him pause. Injuries could be healed with time, and as a demon, he was a fast healer. But he did not know what happened to his powers. Were they really all absorbed by his father’s armor? Were they then extinguished by whatever that Noodle Boy did? He didn’t even know that it could be extinguished. It had to have been though, because based on what little he could get out of Sandy, the Monkey King had survived the conflict. Red Son isn’t sure how he feels about that. Sure, he had attacked him and intended to have him defeated by his father. But that’s not how things turned out. That’s not what his father wanted. And despite him giving the Samadhi Fire to his father, which is what he thought he wanted, that turned out to be disastrous as well. Were his parents even alive? And if they were, what would they want with someone who had nearly gotten them killed? What would they want with a son who didn’t even have any powers? In this state he was useless. Relying on the enemy, no less. How shameful.

Red Son had tried a few times to activate his powers. Each time he was met with not even a puff of smoke. If his parents thought he was a disappointment before, what would they think of him now?

At the very least he was making progress physically, and could hobble around the houseboat a little bit on his own. The Blue One said he could leave when he was better. But where could he go? He didn’t want to think about it. He wanted to just be able to do something about it. But he could no longer simply throw fire at his problems. And no matter what anger and vitriol he sent Sandy’s way, the blue giant simply refused to be upset at him. Why didn’t he just kick him out? He certainly deserved it! His own parents likely wouldn’t want him around, why would an enemy?

So when he wasn’t yelling at Sandy, or his numerous cats, he just withdrew into himself. Fuming with no fire. Brooding over his current situation. What was the point anyway? A small part of him wanted to know if his parents were okay. As much as he was sure they would hate him, they were his parents, after all. But the thought of trying to find them terrified him in a way. On one hand, if they were alive, he was useless to them like this. If they weren’t… well, he didn’t want to think about how that would mean that it was his fault if they were dea--

Red Son angrily throws the closest thing near him across the room, which happened to be a mug of tea that he was holding. It flies across the room just missing a few cats who leap out of the way with an indignant hiss. The cup breaks apart and spills its contents all over the floor. He takes some seething breaths, before a voice speaks up next to him.

“Well that’s a much stronger throw than before. At least you’re healing!” Red Son had forgotten that the Blue One was there. He had given him the tea in the first place after all. Red Son had just gotten lost in his musings and forgot about the ever-present, overly pleasant companion. The big man goes over and gets a broom. “However, maybe we could find other, more constructive, ways for you to release your anger?”

“Ugh! Don’t try to give me life lessons! What are you, some sort of life advice guru?”

The Blue One laughs heartily, while picking out some of the larger shards. “No, I’ve just learned how to control my anger via anger management therapy. And I’m always open to listening if you want a friendly ear,” he says brightly.

Red Son can’t imagine this guy ever being angry, and the idea of talking about his feelings makes his stomach bubble in disgust. “What? So I can give away all my family’s secrets? Why would you care anyway?”

The Blue One shrugs. “I just do!” He pauses and thinks. “And also, maybe I could ask you to maybe not throw my cups and scare my cats…?” He ends the last part in a hopeful lilt.

“No promises,” Red Son grumbles.

“What do you normally do to de-stress?”

“Destroy my enemies.” Red Son looks pointedly at Sandy.

“Ah… um… would throwing fire around (preferably in a contained area) help?” Sandy asks hesitantly.

Red Son scowls. “No.”

“Would you like to try contacting your parents…?”

An uncomfortable flutter pangs in his heart. “No.”

“What about, er, a hobby or…?

Red Son is getting fed up. “WOULD YOU JUST STOP!” he shouts. “We are not friends! We are enemies! You are the good guys! I’m the bad guy! The villain. Stop trying to be all buddy-buddy with me! If you’re trying to change me or get me to open up, it’s not going to work!”

“I’m sorry, I’m just trying to figure out what would make you feel better… Maybe healing up at your place would make you feel safer…?” Sandy looks truly apologetic, but Red Son is already too worked up to care. Furthermore, bringing up the possibility of going to see his parents causes that fluttering feeling to worsen.

“No! I can’t go back! I--”

Sandy raises his eyebrows. And Red Son shuts his mouth suddenly realizing what he almost revealed. The Blue One nearly had done it! How dare he. He hates him for that. For his stupid honest niceness. He hates that he is here. That he let down his father, again. That he has to rely on a big-hearted idiot of an enemy. He needs to leave. He doesn’t have anywhere to go. But he needs to leave.

He clumsily slips out of bed and does an awkward combination of stomping and limping past the Blue One and towards the door, ignoring the giant’s protests.

He swings open the door and he sucks in a surprised yelp as standing on the other side of it is a girl with green highlights in her hair, and pigtails sticking up from behind, with her fist to the door poised to knock on it. It’s the Dragon Girl. The two stare at each other. They exchange blinks of confusion.

The Dragon Girl is the first to react. Her surprised features shift into a look of pure rage. “YOU!” she shouts.

She flings herself at Red Son, elbowing him in the middle and throwing him across the room. Pain explodes from his various injuries, especially from his ribs and chest area. He crumples to the ground and barely has time to react as she is pulling a sword on him. He rolls out of the way, under a table and pulls himself up using an adjacent book case. He slips a little bit, and is forced to put weight on his injured ankle, which burns horribly, but he needs to get away from this crazy and enraged attacker.

He leans on the far end of the bookcase and holds up a hand. “W-wait!” he wheezes out before he devolves into coughs and choking gasps. He stumbles as he backpedals away from another swing and falls again to the floor. He grabs desperately at anything in his surroundings that can help pull him up, but the pain drags him back down again.

The tip of the sword is pointed at his center and he flinches back. He can’t do much but cough some more. When no attack comes, he chances a look up at his attacker. She’s looking at him with a paranoid gaze, which flickers up and down in confusion, but she does not lower her weapon.

“What are you doing here, Red Son?!” she yells.

Red Son does his best to regain his breath. When he does he shouts back, though not as loud or as strong as he wants it to be. “I was brought here, Dragon Girl! By your blue friend, no less! So- so back off or I’ll burn you to a crisp!”

The threat is empty. He knows it is. And even if she doesn’t, she knows she has the upper hand. He can’t hide his injuries or look powerful, half curled up on the floor and locked down by her sword. But he won’t appear weak. Not to her.

“Mei!” calls the Blue One, as he stands up from the floor, stepping carefully over the glass on the floor and rushing into the adjacent area to move between the girl and the demon.

“Sandy! Are you okay? What is Red Son doing here? Is he hurting you? Is he--”

“He’s injured!” Sandy says with some amount of exasperation quickly shuffling over and kneeling down by Red Son’s side. He puts a hand on the demon’s back and offers another for him to take to support him. Red Son stays silent and looks down, as Sandy helps him up.

“What?!” Pure incredulity drips from the Dragon Girl’s voice. “Are- are you helping him?!”

When he’s able to set Red Son upright, and leans him against a nearby cabinet, he looks to the girl and rubs the back of his head absently. “Er, yes, I am.”

She continues to give him a questioning look.

“He was hurt!” Sandy says simply. “I had to, Mei.”

The girl looks between the two of them, before sighing and lowering her sword. “I was wondering why we hadn’t heard from you much.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys. I was hoping to tell you first instead of you finding out this way. Are you… mad?” The big man looks small, like a child revealing that they had snuck a cookie out of a cookie jar.

“It’s not you I’m upset at, it’s him. I don’t trust him. You could get into trouble. What if the Demon Bull family comes and attacks you? What if he burns down the houseboat?!” Red Son gets dizzy at the range of emotions that cross the girl’s features and body language as she talks, from a distrusting glance to panicky waving arms to exaggerated sweeps of her entire body. He remembers why he finds this group so annoying. And even moreso, he is annoyed at being left out of the conversation.

“Excuse me, I am standing right here!” he says with as much afront as he can muster.

“That’s the problem, Red Boy!”

“It’s Red Son to you, Dragon Girl!”

“Oh and now who is getting the names wrong?”

“I don’t stoop to uttering the names of peasants!”

“Shut up! You shouldn’t even be here! Do you know how much pain you caused! Sandy is here helping you, and you don’t deserve any of it!”

“Now now--” Sandy tries interjecting, but is caught in the middle of a now shouting match.

“That’s because you’re all so styoooopidly sappy! I’m GLAD I attacked you! You weaklings are too noble for your own good!” A smile spreads on his face seeing he’s getting under the girl's skin. It made him feel stronger. Shouting let out his pent up frustration from earlier. And banter with the Noodle Boy’s friends made things feel normal for once.

Mei shouts back at Red Son, contempt and hatred dripping from her words. "You hurt my friend! You nearly destroyed the Monkey King!!! You and your dumb dad! I bet DBK is proud of you!"

Red Son’s smile drops immediately and something in him snaps at the mention of his father, and before he can stop himself, the words come out. "HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE!"

There is a beat of silence and Red Son had a moment to realize what he said. He hadn't meant to bring up his father in such a way. How weak is he that he keeps revealing his inner thoughts to his enemies? His heart hammers against his ribs in shame and embarrassment, and he’s about to babble out some excuse, when the Dragon Girl speaks instead.

"He was supposed to be what? Destroyed?"

 What?

"Well, you know what? You failed to destroy the Monkey King. And it was the Monkey Kid who beat both of you!"

A spark of relief lights in Red Son's chest. The girl thinks he was talking about the Monkey King. Not his father. She had misunderstood his shout. He pushes down his shock and embarrassment, and forces a well-practiced sneer onto his lips. "Y-yes! The Monkey King was supposed to be destroyed! You just got lucky, that's all!"

The girl gives him a hate-filled look. Just the way it should be.

But when he looks over at Sandy, he sees confusion. And… sadness? Perhaps a bit of worry. Well, they should be worried and sad and angry at him!  They should both be afraid. And weakened or not, Red Son isn't going to let them forget that he is still a force to be reckoned with!

He fixes the Dragon Girl with what he hopes looks like a dangerous scowl. "Next time I'll be more thorough in my destruction!"

The girl doesn't look quite as frightened as Red Son would've hoped, but at the very least she clamps her loud mouth shut. She then sighs and turns to Sandy. "I don't know why you helped him. I don't think this is the kind of guy who can be saved."

Red Son's chest burns uncomfortably. It must be because of that shove she gave him earlier, exacerbating his wounds, and not the hopelessness of her statement.

Sandy shrugs and replies simply, “I've got to try, don't I?"

The girl's lips spread in a small smile of understanding and pats the large man's arm. "Yeah, and that's what's cool about you, my friend."

Sandy beams widely. But his expression switches to nervousness. "You won't tell the others, will you, Mei?"

She quirks an eyebrow up and gives him a look. "Sandy, MK is my best friend. I tell him practically everything," she deadpans.

Sandy wilts a bit, but the girl gives him another reassuring pat and says, "But I'll ask them to leave him alone…,” she shoots Red Son a dark look as she finishes her statement, “...for now.” Switching back to something more friendly, she returns her attention to Sandy. "So you better come clean yourself, soon, and give us a better explanation."

"Of course!" Sandy brightens.

With that the girl exits the houseboat, leaving Red Son and Sandy alone.

There is silence between them. Sandy looks at Red Son, and the demon does his best to not notice.

“Did she hurt you much?” Sandy sounds both worried and a bit embarrassed.

“I’m fine.” Red Son says too quickly.

Sandy comes closer and reaches a hand towards him. Red Son flinches back and the motion causes his whole body to wobble. Before he can fall back down, Sandy catches him. Red Son goes stiff and Sandy makes sure to give him some room once he regains his footing.

“Sorry.” Sandy shifts where he stands. “I noticed that one of your bandages is loose.” He gestures to a bandage on his wrist. “I may have to check you over again and re-do your bandages… If that’s okay…?”

Red Son’s chest burns again. He hates this. But he nods anyway. “Okay.”

Slowly, Sandy goes about washing and re-bandaging Red Son’s wounds. Luckily nothing was hurt too badly, but some bandages did come loose during the scuffle, and a few deeper burns had to be cared for.

They stayed mostly silent throughout much of it. Until Sandy finally spoke up. “Did you mean what you said earlier? About how ‘he was supposed to be.’” He was sitting behind Red Son working on some of the bandages on his back, and Red Son was glad for this so he didn’t see his eyes widen in alarm.

“Of- of course! I definitely meant to destroy the Monkey King and bring him to my father as a prize.” Red Son tries to keep his voice steady.

Sandy is silent for a moment as if trying to find his words. “Were you really talking about the Monkey King then? Not… someone else?”

“I-- don’t know what you mean…” The words come out stiff and stilted.

“I thought…” he began, before giving a sigh. “I guess I misinterpreted what you were saying.”

“Yes, I suppose you did.” Red Son answers curtly.

After a bit more silence Sandy continues. “Have you made any progress with your powers…?”

Red Son twists around suddenly giving Sandy a wide-eyed stare. “How did you know about my powers!?” The movement hurts, but the ache of sudden vulnerability is worse.

“I noticed you trying to throw some fireballs and stuff over the past few days… And also you didn’t attack Mei. Or me, for that matter. So I just… guessed”

Red Son feels small. Like the world is pressing in around him. The Blue One’s large form, not helping. And the pain radiating from his wounds makes the sensation worse. He pushes himself away from the blue giant as he starts shivering again, the cold suddenly feeling more apparent. Everything is suddenly fuzzy, like when he first noticed that his powers were gone. But now Sandy knew, and his friends might find out. And if they found out, then maybe his parents would know. They’d know just how weak he was. His chest is pulsing with pain and he isn’t sure why. It feels like the Dragon Girl hitting him over and over again.

Warmth is suddenly draped around him. The downy sensation of a comforter holds his form. He notices that his breaths are rapid and that’s what was hurting his chest. “Breathe,” a voice calls. So he obeys. Slowly, his breaths return to normal. The blankets surrounding him give the feeling of being cradled, but not trapped, and the warmth brings his trembling to a minimum.

“Red Son,” the voice he now recognizes as Sandy calls. “Do you hear what I am saying?”

The demon looks up, meeting the Blue One’s eyes, and gives a short nod.

“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to. I don’t think you are weak. You are just injured and healing, and that’s okay. I won’t tell anyone,” Sandy’s calm voice is reassuring. But Red Son worries about how much he might’ve just babbled.

Sandy gives him a few more moments to calm down before talking to him again. “I finished working on your bandages. I can get you some tea if you want.” Then he gives a small knowing smile at him. “If you promise not to throw the mug…”

Red Son looks the gentle giant up and down. He slowly shifts into a more comfortable and relaxed position on the bed, and huddles down into the blankets more. He doesn’t smile, but he sounds and feels more like himself in his response. “No promises.”

Sandy’s smile reaches his eyes and he goes off to make more tea.

Red Son manages to not throw the mug this time.

start || <– previous // next –>

[hurt-care]

Resolutions

As I migrate all these over, I’m realizing that I’ve written way more R/S fic than I thought! lol I suppose with like 10+ years of writing it, it makes sense!

This is a New Year’s Eve fic set during the first war with a sick Remus

-

“What do you mean he’s not coming?” Sirius demanded as James looked on in silent resolution.

“He said he wasn’t feeling well,” Lily chimed in from her spot on the couch where she watched over Harry as he cooed from the nearby bassinet.

“The moon was two days ago!” exclaimed Sirius. “We went with him! He should entirely up to speed at this point.”

“I didn’t ask,” James said, pouring himself a glass of champagne. “He sent an owl and said he had a cold and that he was going to stay in by himself. You can’t force him to be social, Sirius. Maybe he does have a cold.”

“When was the last time Remus had a cold?” Sirius asked, hands perched on his hips in frustration. “I’m not talking about feeling off after the moon or that dreadful hayfever of his; I’m talking about a good old fashioned influenza.”

“Last spring,” Peter replied.

“That was an allergic reaction to a potion,” Sirius said as James and Lily exchanged meaningful looks.

“And don’t judge me,” he snapped at James, seeing his glance towards Lily. “I have an excellent memory.”

“And an excellent adoration for one Messer Moony,” James replied. “Are you going to resolve to finally put an end to this dance and ask the bloke out?”

It was a long suffering point of contention between Remus and Sirius. There was clearly something there, but Remus wouldn’t budge, even after months of Sirius’ blatant flirtation. James had taken to calling them a pair of ‘old quarreling birds’ who simply couldn’t live with or without each other.

Sirius scowled, looking rather the part of a put-out child, what with his New Year’s part hat on and the magically flashing beads James insisted they all wear.

“Look, Sirius,” Lily said, gathering Harry in her arms from the cradle and tickling his tummy so the baby squealed with delight. “Go check on him and come back. You won’t enjoy New Year’s if you’re going to spend it fretting over whether or not he’s actually ill. And if he’s being unsociable, tell him I insist he get over here at once and that we’ll let him go home right after the stroke of midnight because I know he’s an early-to-bed and early-to-rise sort of bloke.”

“Fine,” Sirius said. “I’ll just Floo over and report back with Moony in tow. Don’t drink all the champagne without me.”

With a pinch of powder tossed in the fire, Sirius disappeared, emerging in the tiny sitting room of Remus’ flat.

Remus was sprawled out on his battered sofa, buried in a pile of blankets. A rubbish bin was perched nearby, almost overflowing with tissues, and a half dozen empty tea cups were scattered on the floor.

Sirius’ heart sank. The first time Sirius cared for Remus alone after a transformation was when they’d graduated Hogwarts, Sirius had grabbed Remus’ arm to Apparate them back home only to find the werewolf unnaturally warm. He’d fretted endlessly about it until Remus assured him that a little fever after was normal, and that if he were truly sick, Sirius would know it. Werewolves were generally hearty when it came to illness, but when they got a cold, it hit hard.

“Remus?” he said softly, putting a hand gently on the spot where the curve of the man’s back rose beneath the quilts.

Remus stirred slightly and opened one eye. Consciousness seemed to make him realize he wasn’t breathing well and he sputtered, his mouth opening in a gasp. His face came fully in view, revealing sunken eyes and a rather swollen looking pair of nostrils.

Remus sniffled thickly, the sound wet and heavy with congestion. His watery eyes blinked rapidly as he brought Sirius into focus.

“You look terrible,” he said, shifting to sit on the edge of the sofa as Remus struggled to sit up. He pressed a hand to Remus’ back to help support him.

“Speak for yourself,” he rasped, raising an eyebrow as he surveyed Sirius’ party hat. His voice was strained and faint, and he touched a hand to his throat, feeling the glands swelling on either side. A burning deep in his sinuses soon distracted him and he turned his face away from Sirius, snapping forward in a throaty, spraying sneeze.

Hurh’tscghhh!

“Bless you,” Sirius said.

“Better not,” Remus croaked. “If there’s anything awful about me getting a cold, it’s the damn sneezing. I’ll do enough of it to get me sainthood if you keep blessing me.”

As if on cue, he turned away again, raising an arm to shield his face.

Huhhrrh’tsghttt! Ehhh…hehh’tscghhtt!

He sniffled thickly and dissolved into a volley of dry coughs. When they faded away and he was able to speak again, he said, “I sent James and Lily an owl to say I was sorry I couldn’t come.”

“I know,” Sirius said. “But if you were sick I knew it would be bad and I wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine,” Remus said unconvincingly.

“And I’m your grandmum,” Sirius scoffed. “Bugger off, Remus. You’re sick as a dog.”

“A dog?”

“A wolf, then,” Sirius said as Remus raised his arm to catch another sneeze.

Hurh’stshfff!

“Bless you.”

“Sainthood,” Remus croaked.

“Saint Moony, patron saint of soldiering through,” Sirius declared. “Face it; you’re a wreak. Let me stay and make you some soup.”

“You’re an awful cook.”

“Hopefully you’re too congested to taste it then,” Sirius said.

Ehrr’tsghttt!

“Yep, that confirms it. You rest, I’ll put the soup on.”

“I don’t have any in the pantry,” Remus said, reaching for a fresh tissue and folding it over his chapped nose, blowing softly before tossing the tissue into the overflowing bin. “Merlin, this is a hundred tissue cold.”

“Then I’ll go out and fetch some,” Sirius said. “And some more tissues.”

“It’s New Year’s Eve,” Remus said. “Nothing’s open.”

“The muggle market down the street probably is.”

“And you have muggle money?”

Sirius frowned.

“Dammit. No.”

“How’s your tergeo spell?” Remus asked. “I’ve got a few handkerchiefs in my dresser but I was avoiding them because

I’m too congested to pronounce the cleaning spell correctly. I tried and ended up setting one on fire.”

“Cleaning spells are not my forte, but I’ll endeavor to impress,” Sirius quipped. “And I’ll order out for soup. There’s got to be an owl delivery service open. Flim’s in your room?”

“Yeah,” Remus replied. “Give him an owl treat before you let him out or he’ll nip you. Mean bugger, that one.”

“But he’s damn fast.”

“And he was cheap,” Remus admitted, curling another tissue around his scarlet nose and blowing futilely.

Sirius disappeared into the bedroom and scribbled an order for soup on a bit of parchment, sending Flim off to the take-away restaurant. Remus’ handkerchiefs were in the top drawer of his dresser alongside a dozen pairs of nearly folded socks. Sirius took the stack and returned to his friend’s side.

Eh’tghsttt!

Remus was in the midst of another sneezing fit, his slender body curled up in defense against the uncontrollable spasms.

Hehhh’tsghtt! Hurrhh’tsgfttt! ‘Tsghftt!

Sirius carefully maneuvered a handkerchief into Remus’ trembling hands and the werewolf brought it to his beleaguered nose with a brief look of relief.

Ehh’tsghfffff!

The fit ended, leaving Remus red-faced and hot, shaking from the exertion. He didn’t attempt to blow his nose, unwilling to torture it further, and settled with dabbing away the excess moisture.

“If I sneeze enough, will my nose just fall off?” Remus groaned.

“It’s possible,” quipped Sirius, sitting on the couch alongside Remus. “I’m sure there’s a spell to do the deed if the sneezing won’t.”

“I always thought my nose was a bit on the large side,” Remus said, eyes crossing to survey his own. “Mum said it was prominent. I think it’s just plain big.”

“Your nose is lovely,” Sirius said without thinking, catching himself only after the words were spoken. “I mean, it’s fine. It’s not that big. It could be worse; you could have a nose like Snivillus.”

“Hold your tongue, Black.”

Sirius stuck his tongue out and pinched it with two fingers.

“Done,” he said, voice muddled. Remus laughed hoarsely, the sound quickly turning to a cough.

“Ugh, sorry mate,” Sirius said, releasing his tongue. “Didn’t mean to start the coughing.”

“Can’t be helped,” Remus choked out. He swallowed painfully and gave a great sniffle.

“I suppose I should let James and Lily know I won’t be returning to their party,” Sirius said, glancing at the mantle clock.

An hour had passed since he’d left.

“No, go back,” Remus said, reaching for a fresh handkerchief. His breath sucked in rapidly and he held up the cloth, head snapping into a sneeze.

Ehh’tsghfftt!

“Go to the party,” he continued, wiping his nose. “I’m fine. I’ll just eat the soup and go to bed.”

“Stop it, Moony,” Sirius insisted, reaching a hand out and placing it reassuringly on Remus’ back. The smaller boy felt unnaturally warm. “I’m staying. No arguments. And now that I think of it, Lily and James already knew I’d stay. They’ll Floo in if they’re worried.”

A tap on the kitchen window announced the return of Flim, bearing a brown bag with two cartons of hot soup. Sirius let the owl in and untied the parcel, dolling out a spoon and bowl to Remus.

“Eat,” he insisted.

Remus sipped at the hot broth slowly, gradually draining half the bowl before he set it aside.

“It’s hard when you can’t taste anything,” he said with a sniffle. “The steam’s nice though; clears my nose.”

Sirius slurped up the last of his noodles and set his empty bowl alongside Remus’.

“Alright. It’s nearly ten thirty. I think you should get some rest,” he said. “Here, or in your bed?”

“I’m fine here, unless you want the couch,” Remus replied, leaning back into his nest of pillows.

“I’m not sleeping yet,” Sirius said. “You’re the sick one.”

“I’m so tired,” Remus admitted, letting his head drop into his hands. “I barely slept at all last night. I can’t breathe.”

“Poor love,” Sirius said. He was rarely one for overt fussing, but it was Remus and Remus didn’t deserve to get sick.

“C’mere.”

He extended an arm to pull Remus against him. It wasn’t the first time they’d cuddled like this, but it was usually after winter moons, when Remus shivered violently in the morning and it was necessary to get him warm. As Sirius drew the smaller man close, he felt a surge of protectiveness towards Remus.

Tucking Remus’ head against his chest, he tugged up the blankets, creating a warm cocoon around them both.

“There,” he said, smoothing back the fringe from Remus’ brow. “I’ll keep you propped up a bit to help you breathe.”

“Thanks,” Remus mumbled, eyes drifting shut. He coughed and Sirius felt the rumble of Remus’ chest vibrate in his own. After much sputtering and sniffling, Remus was finally coaxed to sleep as Sirius ran his fingers through Remus’ hair in soothing strokes.

When he woke again, Sirius was dabbing a soft handkerchief under his nose where it dripped steadily down his upper lip. The irritated nostrils ticked fiercely and he pitched forward in a sneeze, his hands racing to take the hankie from Sirius’ grip.

He managed to get it pressed to his nose before the sneeze came.

Huhh’tsghftttt!

“Bless you,” Sirius said, releasing his hold on the handkerchief and allowing Remus to catch a second sneeze.

Heh’tshh…’tsghffttt!

He blew wetly and leaned back into Sirius arms, feeling utterly drained, even after the bit of sleep.

“It’s almost midnight,” Sirius whispered.

“Mhm?” Remus asked sleepily.

“Two minutes.”

“Do you have your party hat?” Remus asked, blinking away sleep.

“It’s in the bin under your snotty tissues,” Sirius said.

“Well that’s not very useful.”

“We’ll find another way to celebrate,” Sirius said, massaging a knot in Remus’ shoulder gently.

“Perhaps I’ll sneeze on the stroke of midnight. I’m sure that’s lucky in some country somewhere.”

“I think it means someone is thinking of you,” said Sirius.

“That’s any sneeze,” Remus replied.

“Then I’m terribly sorry,” Sirius said. “I’m probably to blame for this cold. And it’s midnight in…ten….”

“Nine…”

“Eight…”

They alternated counts, interrupted by a stifled sneeze at “five” (T’sgffft!), until they reached,

“Two…”

“One…”

“Happy New Year, Padfoot,” Remus said.

Sirius leaned in and tipped Remus’ head back, kissing him gently on the lips.

“Happy New Year,” Sirius said as they broke apart.

“I’m sick, Sirius,” Remus said, wiping Sirius’ mouth with his sleeve in a vain attempt to wash away the germs.

“I don’t care,” Sirius said, leaning forward again and kissing Remus’ brow. “Happy New Year. Resolve to be with me so I can quit thinking about you and making you sneeze.”

A small laugh escaped Remus’ lips.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I may have my faults, but at least they’re not catching,” Sirius said. “I’m being honest, Moony. You know I love you; I’ve loved you for a long time.”

“Is it fair to declare love to a sick man you’ve got trapped in your arms under a mess of blankets?” Remus asked, a smile betraying him. He was already leaning forward, red nose grazing Sirius’ cheek. “No more kisses until I’m better, okay?”

Sirius, never one for rules, pressed his lips to Remus’ once more.