#snz always comes first

[stormyweaver]

Fuck, I've fallen so hard into crackship hell with so many different fandoms, but they all have one universal tie in:

snz.

[cattewife]

had a moment this weekend where i'm in the car with a couple i know and he starts sneezing (he sneezes in 3-5 fits almost always), and we all bless him after the first one, and after the second his wife goes "you're not getting any more." y'all i DIED

[nobodybetterlookatme]

Once again, my favorite part of my job is pissing off my medic and ruining their day lmao

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Chatterbox (M, cold, 'drabble')

A little prompt-based fluff for you guys :) Reed and Greyson go out to dinner, but Reed realizes something is up when Greyson won't shut tf up lol. I'm loving writing this relationship, I can't lie, so sorry if it's too much Reed and Greyson lately - I'll get back to my other guys soon!

1.6K words (just a tiny lil blip of a story haha) CW: Male snz, coughing, fever, contagion mention. Hope you like it :)

Chatterbox

Reed looked down at his phone as he waited on Greyson, rereading the stream-of-consciousness texts his boyfriend had sent throughout the day.

Greyson

1:42PM

sooo pumped for tonight bb :)

1:56PM

should I wear a suit…? I know it’s a new spot but the website definitely reads ‘fine dining’, like fine-er than most of my clothes know how to be...

2:24PM

I think I’ll do dark jeans & a black button up. johnny cash style. cant go wrong w that. hahah.

3:17PM

I know ur working still but im just really excited to see you:):)

It was cute – borderline adorable – how nervous Greyson seemed for their dates, even after almost a year of the two of them being together. Reed had, of course, answered Greyson’s plethora texts throughout the day, but had tried to keep himself subdued so he wouldn’t give away his hand; tonight, he was going to ask Greyson to move in with him.

He knew it was a bit of a long time coming, but Reed was really trying to keep from scaring Greyson off by doing anything too quickly. His boyfriend certainly had a bit of past-relationship trauma that Reed tried valiantly to navigate; it was hard to figure out what the right time to do anything was. Sometimes, he wasn’t sure there was ever going to be a right time to push their relationship to the next level. But things had been good lately; like, really good. Tonight felt… right.

Greyson’s presence was palpable before Reed even saw him blow through the door. He looked up from his phone and clocked his boyfriend, standing out side the restaurant with his elbow locked over his face; Reed cocked his head a bit, confused. Was he… coughing?

The chef, clad in the Johnny-Cash-getup he’d promised, shook himself out before pushing the door to the restaurant open. He pawed at his nose with the back of his hand while asking the hostess to point Reed out – she gestured towards their table, and Greyson smiled when the two of them locked eyes. Reed waved, smiling back. Something was certainly… off.

“Sorry I’m late, baby,” Greyson said, kissing the top of Reed’s head before sitting across from him. “The fuckin’ train was running late again.”

“I’ve told you a million times I’ll come pick you up for dates,” Reed said, squeezing Greyson’s hand across the table. “You don’t always have to take the train.”

Greyson shrugged, smiled a little loopily. “I like the train,” he said, picking up his menu and squinting at the small font. “Lots of time to think. I’ve come up with my best dishes on the subway, I’m pretty sure; you remember that tart I made for the writer’s dinner, the one where we saw each other for the second time? Came up with that on the train. I was sitting next to this girl, probably a student, and she was eating one of those little egg tarts, the ones from the Japanese bakeries? I thought, damn I bet a root vegetable in one of those would fuckin’ slay – spoiler alert, it so did. Where would I have come up with that if not for the train? Plus, it’s one of the most sustainable ways to travel. I get my good karma for not actively killing the environment in. Win-win. What’re we eat – HTSHH! NXTSHH!” Greyson’s explosion of word vomit was very suddenly cut off to stifle two painful-sounding sneezes into the back of his hand.

Reed blinked for what was maybe the first time since his boyfriend sat down. “...bless,” he said after a beat. Greyson nodded, sniffled a little, and picked the menu back up.

“What’s this place’s thing anyway?” Greyson continued, flipping the menu over to look at drinks. “I can’t seem to figure it out; are they Italian? Mediterranean? Fine dining? Just high-end? No tasting menu, but prices are high enough to warrant one. Wine list reads very Italian, but there are like three dishes with hummus on them? I’m half-expecting to be served babaganoush bolognese. Which… maybe would work? Actually, eggplant, tomato sauce… I could see it working. You never know. Can’t judge a book by its menu, right? What’re you drinking? Want to get a bot -?”

This second monologue was cut short when Reed reached across the table to place a gentle hand on Greyson’s face. Just as he expected: hot.

“Babe,” Reed said gently, taking his hand back, “you’re burning up.”

The chef cast his glance down, embarrassed. “You weren’t supposed to figure that out till after dinner,” he muttered. Reed laughed.

“Seriously? You had to know I’d figure something was up. You’ve been monologing since the moment you sat down. Have you been sick all day? You should’ve told me, honey. How much cough medicine did you take before you showed up here?”

Greyson looked up at Reed and gave him a little half-smile. “Pretty sure I downed half a bottle of Robutusssin, not gonna liiii – hh! HhNXTSHH-ue! Huh-TSHH-ue!” Once again, Greyson attempted to stifle, to no avail. He allowed himself two painful little coughs before righting himself again.

“Bless you,” Reed said again. “I wish you would just sneeze normal, that always sounds so painful.”

“We’re in a restaurant,” Greyson said, a huskiness beginning to creep in to his voice. “That’s so gross.”

Reed rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Who cares? No one’s looking at us. They’re too busy with their many, many hummuses.”

A laugh bubbled out of Greyson, and with it came a flurry of congested coughs he directed into the sleeve of his shirt. “Don’t mbake me laugh,” he muttered, taking a drink of water. “You’re gonna get us kicked out.”

“Good,” Reed said, flagging the waiter. “I’m so sorry,” he said when the young, well-dressed server came to their table, “something’s come up and we’re going to have to go.” He handed the kid a fifty. “Thank you for your help.”

The server nodded, said thank you to Reed, and went to grab the two men’s jackets. Greyson raised an eyebrow, confused. “What’re you doing?”

“Taking you home,” Reed said. “You need tea and soup, not…” he glanced back down at the menu, “fattoush flatbread.” Greyson visibly deflated.

“I wanted to spend the evening with you,” he said, his voice subdued. “I’m sorry. I should’ve called and canceled, I just… I mbiss you when we don’t see each other all week. You’re always busy, I’mb always busy, it just fucking sucks. I don’t even know how I got fucking sick… oh wait, yes I do. Elijah had a cold last week – was that last week? Did I tell you that? I can’t remember. I think the servers gave it to him. Fuckin’ servers, I’ve never met a group of people who get sick mbore than theehh – huh! Fuck – HUHETSHHH-ue! Huh-! HhITSZZZCH-ue!” Greyson folded in half, his torso practically beneath the table in an attempt to keep the entire restaurant from hearing him. It was, of course, at that moment that the server returned with their coats. Reed took them silently, and stood to gather his boyfriend, who slowly unfurled himself from his own lap.

“Bless you,” he said, gently helping Greyson to his feet and slipping his coat over his shoulders. He lead the two of them past the host stand and onto the sidewalk, where he turned Greyson to face him.

“First of all,” he said, sweeping Greyson’s hair out of his eyes and caressing his cheek, “I know a subset of people who get sick more than servers, and it’s chefs. You and all your chef buddies are pestilence incarnate because you work nine hundred hours a week.” This prompted a little laugh from Greyson. Perfect, thought Reed. Break the tension.

“Secondly, yes, you did tell me that Elijah was sick, and I told you, and I quote, ‘Don’t get too close, I know you two love to share a cold’, but I know you don’t like to listen to authority, so not sure what I expected.” Another laugh. Greyson pushed his hair back, rubbed his nose, and pulled Reed in to hug him. Reed continued from this spot, pressed into Greyson’s shoulder.

“And thirdly,” he said, “I miss you too. All the time. Which is why I asked you out tonight.” He pulled away, reached into his pocket, and dropped a key into Greyson’s palm. “I don’t want to miss you anymore. I don’t want you to have to take the train from Brooklyn every single night, I don’t want us to hang out once a week, I don’t want to drop you at your apartment to take care of yourself. I want to see you when I wake up every morning. I want to hear you sneak in at three AM after you and Matt go clubbing. I want to take care of you, at home, when you’re sick.” Reed smiled, a little embarrassed, as Greyson stared at the key. “Move in with me,” Reed said. “Please.”

Greyson’s mouth opened, then shut without words a couple of times before he looked Reed in the eyes. “Yes,” he said, nodding. “Okay. Yes. Yes, please.”

Reed felt a smile bloom on his face, huge, goofy, unashamed. He took Greyson’s face in his hands and planted a kiss on his lips. Greyson held his boyfriend by the waist, then picked him up to spin him around. “I love you,” Greyson muttered into Reed’s mouth.

“I love you more,” Reed said, smiling. Greyson turned away then, suddenly to -

“HRRSHH-ue! HhhITSHZZCH-ue!” he sneezed away from his boyfriend, which prompted a laugh from Reed.

“Probably too late for that nicety,” Reed joked, elbowing Greyson playfully. The chef huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes.

“I figured sneezing directly into your face would probably kill the moment,” he said, sniffling. “But I’ll go ahead and just do it next time.”

“Oh, shut up,” Reed laughed, kissing Greyson again. “C’mon. Let’s get you home and in bed. Sickie.”

Greyson smiled a little. “Yeah,” he said, looping his arm into Reed’s. “Let’s go home.”

[thekinkyleopard]

Oopsie Daisies

An Al X Kanai Snz Fic

⚠️Content Warning:⚠️

Force Induce, Allergies, Snz, Smut

Description: This fic is loosely based off the following prompt by @hetchiew

Author’s Notes: So because I’m a big ball of chaotic stress from all the curve balls life is hitting me with I’ve decided to try to write a short snz fic based off a prompt given to me by @aller-geez something easy to work with. Hope yall are thirsty for some Hell Boys 🫡 Kanai is owned by Geezie and she did the cover art as always 🥰🫶🏻

Just another day, a Wednesday, the apartment was quiet and all that could be heard was the light scuffle of pacing feet as Alistar tried to come up with a plan for the day. The red headed demon was feeling antsy, on one, like he couldn’t rest until there was sin surrounding him. It had been weeks since he’d pulled any antics or crazy schemes out from under his sleeves, he’s feeling, empty..restless. The anti-Christ scratches his chin wearily, deep in thought as he shuffled through the filing cabinet of trouble installed within his brain.

“Morning Donnie,” suddenly snapped from his trance as he turns to meet eye contact with his best friend.

“Nai,” he nods in response, looking the hound up and down as the gears started turning slowly in his corrupted head. Draeko was still asleep from a long night with his best friend Levi, but Kanai was up and ready for the day, already showered and dressed as he shuffled through the freezer for the blood worms he fed his salt waters every morning. “Hey, bud, whatcha up to?” Alistar asked casually as he leaned up against the entrance way of their small kitchen.

“Hm? Just caring for the aquatics this morning, is there something you need, Donnie?” The navy haired man turned to look at his best friend with the freezer door still opened, an empty, distance stare from his heterochromatic gaze.

“I’m considering it,” the red eyed demon looked the man up and down, a hungry gleam hidden behind his observant leer.

“Oh? Well, do let me know how I can help,” Kanai nods once before turning to his search, reaching in to pull out the packet of worms, closing the door and beginning the process of separating out the servings for his fish. Once he finished his first steps in the process he began to trail back into his room quietly, Al following closely behind him.

Alistar observed Kanai's every move with an intense focus, his eyes tracking each precise motion as if committing them to memory. He found himself oddly drawn to the meticulous way in which Kanai handled the delicate creatures in his care, a stark contrast to Alistar's own chaotic and impulsive nature.

As Kanai carefully sprinkled the bloodworms into the aquarium, the red head crept closer, his curiosity piqued by the colorful array of fish darting eagerly towards their meal. He watched as Kanai's expression softened, a rare moment of peace settling over his features as he gazed at the underwater world he had been cultivating.

Unable to resist the temptation to disrupt this tranquility, Alistar reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, casually lighting it with a smirk playing on his lips. The acrid smoke wafted through the air, mingling with the faint scent of saltwater and bloodworms.

Kanai's sharp inhale was suddenly stuttered as he found it difficult to breathe amongst the tainted air. His chest suddenly tight and his nose suddenly very itchy. “A-Alistar….Y-you know I can’t st-stand that sme-HEH..’Kkssshuuh! kngt’SHHEW!” It exploded out of him unexpectedly, a cloud of saliva sprinkling the space in front of them.

Alistar's smirk widened at the familiar sound of Kanai's sudden sneeze attack, a sure sign that his allergies were being triggered by the smoke. He tried to act innocent, as if he had simply forgotten about Kanai's sensitivities, but deep down he relished in the damage he was causing. His excitement grew as he thought about how much worse he could make it, the heat rising within him like a smoldering fire.

As Kanai struggled to regain his composure, Alistar nonchalantly took another drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling lazily around him like a sinister dance. The hound’s nose twitched and scrunched as it tickled his sensibilities…he inhaled just barely and another set came flying loosely out of his mouth. Spittle flying freely in the air to Alistar’s entertainment. “huh’KIISSHH’ah! Eh’Kgsssshii!” Al watched with a predatory gleam in his eyes as Kanai's face reddened and itched in discomfort, trying to clear the air with a few quick swipes of his hand.

"Oopsie Daisies, my bad," Alistar feigned innocence, his voice silky smooth with an underlying edge of mischief. "I guess I forgot about your allergy there Nai, apologies,” he chuckled loosely taking another long drag before putting it out on his tongue. “Let me go get you some tissue hm?” he swallowed the rancid mixture of ash and tobacco down his throat without so much as a wince, placing the rest of the stoge in the pack to be relit later.

Alistar left the room with a sly smile playing on his lips, a plan already forming in his mind. He made his way down the hallway to his own room, where he kept a small vial of chhinkni powder tucked away in a secret compartment. “It’s time…” he whispered sinisterly to himself. The powder was rare and potent, known for causing intense sneezing fits when inhaled. As he carefully sprinkled a pinch of the chhinkni powder onto a tissue, Alistar couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement at the thought of what was to come. “This is going to be so fucking awesome…” snickering almost inaudibly. He had been saving this powder for a special occasion, and what better time to use it than now?

With the laced tissue in hand, Alistar made his way back to Kanai's room, his steps light and silent as he approached. He knocked on the door before pushing it open, revealing Kanai still struggling to rid the room of the lingering smoke and his insistent sneezes. “iihGUSHou!” it burst out of him the moment the red head walked back into the space.

"Hey Nai, got you that tissue you needed,” Alistar held out the tainted material with a falsely sympathetic smile, his eyes glinting mischievously as he watched Kanai's expression shift from confusion to suspicion. Without a word, and despite his better judgement, Kanai reached out to take the tissue, his movements slow and deliberate as if he sensed something was amiss.

As soon as Kanai's fingers made contact with the laced tissue, and he brought it within an inch of his nose, a violent sneeze ripped through his body, doubling him over with the force of it. "hIH’IKTSHhh'uuhh!” Kanai staggered back against the one bare wall in his room, his eyes wide with shock as the fit consumed him in a relentless storm, electricity jolting to the tips of his toes and fingers. “Hih’KSSSSHH’uh!”

Alistar couldn't contain his grin while he watched Kanai struggle against the relentless attack on his sensitive reddening nose, each convulsion wracking his body mercilessly. The red-headed demon felt a rush of exhilaration at the mess he had unleashed, the thrill of seeing his best friend crumble at the work of his hands, he could feel himself harden in his already tight jeans. “You’re so fucking hot like that..” he licked his lips stepping closer to the hound who looked as though he was trying to fight away another oncoming storm.

“D-Donnie p-please stay back I’ll….KNGT’ssHEW!” out burst a plume of wet, sticky mist that made direct contact with Alistar’s approaching face. The red eyed demon grinned and brought his thumb up to wipe the mess off his chin, only to stick it in his mouth and groan.

“Delicious,” he cooed darkly, his voice thick and smooth like expensive chocolate. While he licked his thumb clean, Alistar's gaze dropped with desire watching Kanai's struggle intensify. The force and power he held over his best friend ignited a fire within him, primal and intoxicating. With a predatory grace, he moved closer to Kanai, the air between them charged with tension and unspoken lusts. Al looked hungrily at the other as he placed both his hands at either side of the man’s head on the wall behind them.

Kanai's chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, his eyes wide with a mixture of curiosity and anxiety at the dangerous game Al was playing. Deep down, a part of him relished in the rush of adrenaline that coursed through his veins, even as his body continued to convulse with each sneeze that wracked his frame. He would rather cut off every limb on his body than admit it out loud, however.

Alistar's hand reached out to tilt Kanai's chin up, his touch surprisingly gentle against the chaos he had wrought. "You're so delightful in your vulnerability, Nai," he murmured, his voice low and husky with need as his lips and teeth snapped at the hound’s mouth, a teasing gesture. "Such beauty while you huff, puff and drip from your mouth…” he swiped his thumb just under the hound’s moistened lip. “I am ever so hungry, my friend,” the sentence came out in a dangerously low tone that Kanai was all too familiar.

Kanai's breath caught in his throat at Alistar's sudden proximity, the air around them crackling with a dangerous energy that left him feeling both exhilarated and terrified. He sniffled nervously, but also because he was still fighting the urges against him, the powder still lingering in Al’s closed fist just next to him. His heart pounded in his chest as he tried to make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling within him, his body betraying him with its response to the demon before him. “D-Donnie…” he tried to reason but was met with a side smirk that immediately caused him to pause.

As Alistar's thumb traced under his lip, Kanai felt a shiver run down his spine, his skin tingling at the soft touch. Despite the chaos and discomfort that still gripped him, there was an undeniable pull towards the red-headed demon that he couldn't quite explain, there always had been. His mind raced with conflicting thoughts, the line between discomfort and arousal blurring in the haze of lingering sneezes and unspoken tension.

Alistar leaned in closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to Kanai's own, a predatory glint in his eyes that sent a thrill of anticipation through the hound's trembling form, and yet he stood back, only to cuff his closed fist around the other’s nose, holding the tainted tissue within his palm, and pushed it up against his best friend’s nostrils with a force that took the hound by surprise.

Kanai's bright blue and brown eyes widened in shock as the chhinkni powder reached his nose, invading his senses with a sharp, pungent sting that made his head spin. He gasped, trying to turn away, but Alistar's grip on him was firm and unyielding.

The demon’s laughter rang out, dark and twisted, as he watched Kanai's face contort in a mix of surprise and discomfort. Watching his nose stretch and twist, eyes squinting shut to fight against it. The sneezing fit that followed was like nothing Kanai had ever experienced before - each convulsion wracked his entire body, making him double over in agony, kept up soley by the weight of the other. “hIH’IKTSHhh’uuuh!! Kngt’SHHEW! iihGUSH!” His chest tightened, his throat burned, and his eyes watered uncontrollably as he fought the relentless onslaught.

Through tear-blurred vision, Kanai could see Alistar's twisted grin, the gleam of sadistic pleasure in his crimson eyes. The demon seemed to revel in Kanai's suffering, feeding off his pain like a predator savoring its prey. Nai’s mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions - fear, betrayal, and an unsettling thrill that coursed through his veins despite the discomfort wracking his body. As each sneeze ripped through him, he felt a tiny piece of himself chipped away, replaced by something darker and more primal. “hih’KKSSHHHuh!" KnGT!”

Alistar's grip on the tainted tissue tightened, the powder coating his own fingers as he pressed it against Kanai's nose with a cruel persistence that sent shockwaves of agony through the hound's already tortured body. “I love the sweet sweet sounds you make Nai…those little whimpers that follow…be a good boy for me now,” The room spun around the navy haired man, the walls closing in on him as if to trap him in this nightmare with the demon before him.

“D-Donn—HEh’kksssshuuh!!” succumbing again to the substance wreaking havoc inside of him. He snuffled loudly. “SNdfF!!” trying desperately to clear himself of the tingling sensation that ran up and down the bridge of his nose like when one’s foot falls asleep. “Pl-ease….” he whimpered loosely. “I surr-…surrend…EH’KGSSSSHiH!…er” pleading with any ounce of humanity that may be some where hidden inside the red head.

“Oh, but Nai…” The demon clicked his tongue sarcastically. “Why would I do that? I’m having so much fun..you look and sound soooo fucking sexy…just let me have a few more…hm? I’ll even do all the work..” he snickered with a bite of his lower lip. Alistar's taunting words echoed in Kanai's ears, each syllable twisting the knife of helplessness and arousal deeper into his already-tortured soul.

The hound's body convulsed with another violent explosion “hh’KSHHh’hiew!” his chest heaving as he struggled to draw in a breath amidst the overwhelming sensation of the chhinkni powder still living within him. He felt powerless against the demon's cruel game, his will bending under the weight of Alistar's sadistic pleasure. The red head moaned audibly, licking his lips now as he began to rub the growing bulge of his pants against Kanai’s long slender leg.

“Good boy, Nai, such a good boy,” the hound couldnt fucking help that prodding excitement he felt rising within his own groin as his friend began to rut and rub against him. Cursing himself and his innate carnal desires, before pushing his leg just up enough to aid in further friction. The navy haired men then stuttered, like something caught in his throat, that same electrifying feeling of static rushing down the front of his sinuses.

“hIH’KTSHHh’uuh! Eh’KgGss!” it released again, spittle flying past the bottom of the tissue held against his face and into Alistar’s own lust laden features.

“Shit…” he cursed, his breath labored as his hips began to snap at a faster pace, rubbing himself against the other’s thigh as if his life depended on it. His whole weight of body pressing up against Kanai for support with now his ear right next to the hound’s exploding mouth. His grip on the other’s face tightened, pushing the tissue against his friend so tight that the hound was almost certain he’d be cursed for the rest of the week. “Just a few more…” Alistar grunted behind gritted teeth.

“Hh’Ksssshuuh! hIH’KTssHh! Kngt’ShHeW!” they were sporadic, forced, and seemingly never-ending. The sneezes, a symphony of sound and sensation, tore through Kanai's nasal passages like a wild windstorm, each one building upon the last, until they reached a crescendo of pure, unadulterated chaos. The room was filled with an intoxicating blend of snot, spittle, and chhinkni powder, and each sneeze created a miniature tornado of perfumed air that danced around the two figures entwined in their dark, twisted game.

The swirling haze of particles encircling them took on a life of its own, forming a thin layer against the red head’s exposed skin that glistened in the right lighting before drying out. “I’m going to fucking cum unholy shit…” Al struggled through his ragged breath as his body was continuing to rut up against the other’s stiffened thigh, with just the right force and finesse…

“iihGUSHou! hIh’KtssH’hiew!” Unable to keep them away, the powder scraping and clawing its way up every cell inside his nose just made the hound worse and worse. Every sneeze set off another series of involuntary spasms, his body shaking against the other, as if his entire soul was fighting to expel the foreign substance that had infiltrated his defenses. With each shuddering breath, Kanai could feel his sinuses throbbing in time with the constant explosions and the chhinkni powder scraping against his nasal cavities. The redhead's own shudders and thrusts against him seemed to heighten the intensity of the situation, his friend's body writhing with every spasm.

The hound felt as though he were being torn apart from the inside out, his consciousness pulled further and further into the depths of his own lewd desires and the addictive draw of Alistair's sinister pleasure. Despite his best efforts, his own arousal surged within him, matching the rapid pace of his friend's hips as they moved against each other. Each of their legs standing in as a beacon of usage. They sloppily and roughly dry humped each other while the hound twitched and lurched under the pressure of the substance. “KNGT’SSHHEWW!” another loud, forceful and wet sneeze came flying out from his mouth into the cavity of Al’s ear drum, both of them reaching a boiling point they could no longer resist.

“FUCK!” Alistar cursed loudly, grunting with force as his body pushed forward and he came hard inside his boxers, almost silently chuckling afterwards with a breathless sound. Kanai, following closely behind, reached his peak at the feeling of his best friend’s spasming against him. With mercy, the red head pulled the tissue away at last. There was a short sense of relief.

Al collapsed onto the hound, his chest heaving and his entire being drenched in a sweaty, musky glow from their intense exchange. His eyes were heavy and glassy, his mind staggering from the adrenaline surge, the pleasure, and the sheer madness of what had just transpired. “Shit…that was fucking….awesome…” he let out a breathless chortle.

Kanai, still trembling from the aftermath, gulped in a few breaths, trying to parse everything that had just happened. He blinked hard, attempting to make sense of the memories that were now fuzzing in his mind, a blend of pleasure and torment. He finally felt like he could breathe fresh air again, with just a lingering hint of the powder making it’s way out of his system. He may need to do a flush. “That was…..unexpected…and slightly cruel…” Kanai managed between gasps.

With a weak smile, Alistar leaned in closer to his friend, their foreheads touching, the sweat from their bodies mingling as they both tried to catch their breath. The silence stretched thick and heavy between them, a testament to the darkness they had just danced with.

Slowly, the red head regained his strength and took a step back, the two of them composing themselves before taking a deep breath of air. “MAN! I needed that…I’m gonna go hop in the shower, wanna wake up the pet and make him wash us off?” Alistar spoke with his usual charismatic swagger, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You’re an incredibly insatiable creature, Alistar…” Kanai muttered, his voice still heavy with the after effects of their encounter. “But yes, I suppose a shower might be… necessary,” looking himself up and down feeling the grime of their deeds finally settling upon him.

“Draeeeeee~” The red head already started singing, making his way from the room as he leapt into action, ready and willing for more depraved and devious acts of carnal sin.

The End

Author’s Notes: Took me two days of sitting and actually trying to force myself to write but I fucking did the thing. 🫡 hope you guys enjoyed I know it was a bit shorter and less intense than what I do for smut but I still thought it was hot 😏

[vllergy]

painkillers

vesen request, 2.1 k, cold fic ty to @scatter-snz for this elite prompt i hope this is what u had in mind!!! jin-young is a cop (he has the kink because of who i am as a person) vesen is a big tall hot alien assassin aliens and humans are working together but it's still pretty new and things are awkward jin and vesen 100% fall in love with each other eventually that's basically all you need to know

It's Jin's first day being back after a record two days off. In his six years on the force, he can't remember the last time he took actual sick leave. To be fair, he doesn't get sick that often and when he does, he's aways been the type to grin and bear it. Part upbringing, part police conditioning. If you're not dead, you're fit to serve. Or at least that's the way it always has been. The Kheelen changed that. Human officers aren't spread thin these days due to the partnering initiative. So his cases that would have once fallen to the wayside in his absence now fall to his partner, Vesen. And he's expected to trust that his taciturn, ill-mannered Kheelen counterpart can handle that shit on his own when Jin is otherwise indisposed.

For the most part, Jin does. Vesen may be an ass, but he's a competent investigator. Unfortunately, he and Jin's methods when it comes to gathering information are still wildly disparate. Something he knew, but didn't truly understand the consequences of until now as he sits across their latest subject in the interrogation room.

In the two days Jin took to nurse the cold from hell, it seems Vesen has taken it upon himself to put the fear of God into this man.

The man is visibly sweating. His eyes are only focused on Jin, though every so often they twitch Vesen's direction only to snap back as if his very image is a chemical burn. His cuffed hands tremble on the steel surface of the table and he picks at his cuticles the longer they sit there. Jin doesn't blame him, necessarily. Vesen is, objectively, terrifying. Even just sitting like this you can tell he's the apex predator in the room. He's so much bigger than both Jin and the other man--he overpowers the chair and the room itself, looking comically oversized for the entire thing. Jin thinks all the Kheelen look a little silly in the human precinct, actually. Crunching themselves into tiny desks, massive hands cupping small coffee mugs, ducking under doorways--it'd be laughable if they weren't all sure the Kheelen would crush their skulls for even a giggle about it. Jin sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Intimidating is usually an advantage in an interrogation, but whatever Vesen's done to this guy over the past two days has pushed it over the line. He's not just intimidated, he's shitting his pants. There's no way they're getting through to him now. And frankly? Jin is too tired to rectify the situation. He's still not feeling great. His head is fuzzy and dulled, his painkillers are wearing off, and part of him knows he should be back in bed. But he's legitimately worried Vesen will frighten this man to death if he leaves him alone with him for any longer, and that's a bad look for everyone. Sniffing softly, Jin blinks and tries another tactic. "We want to help you, Anish."

Vesen scoffs at this, and Jin just barely manages not to roll his eyes. "But you have to give us something to work with," he continues.

Anish shivers and shakes his head, "It doesn't matter! You know it doesn't! These bastards are taking over and they're just pretending to play nice until they don't have to anymore." Oh boy, here we go. Vesen's hackles rise, just as Jin expects. The alien leans forward, a muscle in his jaw jumping. Artificial light flickers over his lilac skin and makes his dark hair shine like ink. "You dare insinuiate my people are not here out of good faith?" he hisses, sharp canines flashing, "When you are accused of aiding in a terrorist attack against them?" Jin reaches out for his arm. Down, boy. His fingers drift over steel muscle beneath Vesen's uniform as he tries to tug him back into his seat. He's about to say something to try and reign him in when he realizes with sudden horror that he's about to sneeze instead. "Hhh?" He quickly turns away, angling himself away from the table and steepling his hands over his nose and mouth. His eyebrows crash together as an embarrassingly sharp breath snags in his lungs before-- "chhSH’iew!!"

And it's never just one. "CHshISHh’iu!"

Two is actually pretty good for him, especially with this fucking cold. He gives a tentative sniffle before raising his head and clearing his throat. The tickle abates for the moment, but he can feel it buzzing dully in the back of his sinuses, tickling in the corners of his eyes. Ordinarily, he wouldn't care. Sneezing in public isn't his favorite thing, given how he feels about the activity in general, but he's never been good at stifling so it's not something that can be avoided. But sneezing in front of Vesen is a new hell in and of itself. Without even looking, he can feel the intensity of his partner's gaze on him and it makes heat begin to crawl up his throat. Fucking hell. "Excuse me," he says with a soft sniff and clears his throat again.

At the very least, he's dispelled the tension. "Arguing about who started what or whose intentions are genuine isn't going to get us anywhere. So let's not even get into that," he says, sending Vesen a warning glance. Vesen, he suddenly notes, is staring directly at his nose. For some reason that revelation sets off a nuclear detonation in Jin's lower belly and all the blood in his body rushes south. Self-consciously, Jin rubs at his nostrils and tries to think about anything else. But that only aggravates the dormant tickle, and he has to press his tongue to the roof of his mouth to curb the impulse. "Fine," Vesen hisses, turning his eyes back to Anish, "Then let us stick to the facts." Anish gulps. Jin strokes a finger down the datapad in front of him, bringing up a few files. They could pin Anish with his money transfer trail. Or his text messages. He and Vesen haven't which way they were going to do this--they hardly ever agree anyway--but he shifts the pad closer to his partner so that he can look too. "The facts are, you are a coward, Anish," Vesen suddenly purrs, "And you will not survive a week in prison if I put you there." Jin could strangle him. He does roll his eyes this time and looks toward the ceiling, as if asking some higher power for the strength not to. "What my partner means is that you nee--" The bright lights overhead tease the last bit of the tickle out at the most inopportune time. The fuzzy, static feeling inside his head snaps like someone struck a bolt of lightning into the middle of his face. He whips to the side, his elbow in front of him and his hand braced on his opposite shoulder. "Hh--excuse meehh'IIsHH!"

He mists the inside of his elbow, shakes his head softly and then gears up for another. His breath stumbles, eyelashes fluttering. "Are you going to continue sneezing?" Vesen deadpans. "Hhhuh?" Jin blinks blearily, his cheeks going red as he tries--unsuccessfully--to pinch off the next one, "nnTTchSHH'iu!"

"Madrax. What is that inane human saying? Bless you, Jin-young."

Vesen stands as Jin pulls a crumpled tissue from his pocket and tends to his nose. In the next second, he feels his collar being tugged and himself yanked up from his chair. Feet stumbling under him, he struggles to get his balance for a moment until Vesen's large hand steadies him at the small of his back. Vesen's low voice simmers with what sounds distinctly like a threat, "We will return, Anish. Make yourself comfortable."

Then, before Jin knows what's happening, he's being guided out of the interrogation room and back into the hall. The door shuts and Vesen's hand retreats from his back. In a moment, the alien is towering before him, arms crossed over his broad chest and staring down imperiously at him. "Jin-young," he says disapprovingly. Jin blows his nose softly and retrieves another crumpled tissue. "Vesen."

"You are still ill." "I'm on the tail end of it."

"I do not wish to work with you when you are not well."

Jin scoffs, dabbing at his red nostrils, "I thought the Kheelen didn't get sick. I'm pretty sure you can't catch this."

"It is not my well-being I am concerned for."

Jin's eyebrows shoot skyward. Vesen, concerned for someone besides himself? No fucking way. He might have said as much if his nostrils didn't suddenly swell double. He crushes the tissue to his nose and mouth to muffle a tired sneeze.

"hdj'SHMMf!!"

"Bless you."

Jin blinked and gasped, "Hh'chhmpf!"

"Bless you."

Jin adjusts the tissue to try and find a dry spot, missing the next sneeze entirely and directing it to the floor. "You don't have to say it every ti-hiime--hhCH'ISSH'iu!"

"And why not? Bless you. You said it is something humans say when another sneezes. You are sneezing, are you not?"

Jin blushes darkly as he attends to his nose. Does Vesen have any idea what he was doing to him? Clearly not, or else he'd be raking him over the fucking coals for it. But somehow him being oblivious is making it so much worse. "Look who's suddenly so concerned over human-Kheelen relations," Jin gripes hoarsely, trying desperately to deflect. Anything to stop talking about him sneezing and Vesen blessing him. He'd rather be waterboarded. "You should go home, Jin-young." "And leave you to eat our sole witness alive? I don't think so." Vesen bristled, "You doubt my abilities."

"If we were torturing the guy? Not for a second. But we're trying to get him to talk to us, Ves." "Ah yes, and sneezing at him incessantly is doing the job just as well. Perhaps there is some merit to that," Vesen leans forward, grinning, "You look so unspeakably pathetic that he might take pity on you and finally tell us the truth."

Jin tosses his sodden tissues in the nearby wastebin and scrubs at his face.

"Fuck you," he groans, "Can we just go back and get this over with?"

"No, you are going home."

Vesen grabs his upper arm, his grip like a vice. Jin never really forgets how strong the Kheelen are, but every so often a brazen display hubles him completely. Vesen steers him effortlessly back down the hall without any hope of him struggling against him. "Wait, Vesen, c'mon--" He struggles anyway, just on principle. But a moment later he yanks on his grip unintentionally as he wrenches away from him with another ill-timed sneeze. "Hh'CHISSihuh!" He nearly bends double on that one and Vesen abruptly pulls him to a stop. The alien holds fast to his arm as if he can sense that Jin is going to lose his balance if he's not tethered to anything. "hah'hhCHHishh! iSSCchuh!" His ears begin to ring. Distantly, he's aware of Vesen's other hand bracing against his shoulder. That second point of contact sets his blood on fire. Before he can think too hard about that, another sneeze tickles the inside of his sinuses and he attempts to smother it with his free hand, "PpshhiSHHch!"

"Bless you," Vesen sighs as Jin straightens back up wearily, "Are you finished?"

"Yes," Jin lies and then shakes his head rapidly, turning away and pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger, "NnghsSHH'iu!"

Vesen taps his shoulder. It almost feels...sympathetic?

"Go home, Jin-young. I will wait until you are well again to interrogate our witness."

Jin sniffles and glances up with watering eyes. "W-wait, really?" It's an unexpected gesture of charity from Vesen who has been historically uncharitable all the time he's known him. He narrows his glassy eyes, skeptical. Or at least, he tries to look skeptical despite the fact that his heart is in his throat because Vesen is still holding onto him and just watched him sneeze his head off with rapt, disgustingly erotic attention. "What's the catch?" "There is no catch. Just go before I lose my patience," Vesen said.

Jin knows better than to argue with that. Vesen is someone who loses his patience extraordinarily quickly, and it's never pretty. If he's giving him an out, Jin might as well take it.

Sniffling, Jin nods and gives him a tiny salute, "Thanks, Ves."

Vesen finally lets go of him. He grunts in response, gives him one last unreadable glance, and then turns on his heel. Before Jin can say anything else, his impossibly tall figure disappears back down the hall towards the interrogation room.

Jin isn't totally sure, but he thinks Vesen might not be such a bad guy after all.

That, and he's suddenly unreasonably horny.

[aller-geez]

Sorry for not posting as much as I was! I promise, I’ve been working on a snz project though!

Although I’m still in the art phase so it will still take a bit of time to finish, but….

Soon, I will have a Sneeze Dating Simulator that’ll be free to anyone interested in playing, taking place in an AU where none of our characters are already in relationships, that includes the option to date one of five of our boys! (If it does well, I’m planning to make a female one afterward!)

Remi, Levi, Sven, Elex, or Rex. (Please don’t come for me for not including one of the Hellboys……)

A Preface:

As an Earth born human, even at a very young age you had always been jealous of the other children in your class as most of them grew into their shifter abilities. It didn’t quite seem fair that everyone else could do amazing things just by existing, and all you could ever do was sit and watch in awe.

That is, until a deep dive of the internet landed you on a rather… sketchy looking website that described a university that specialized in Magik, claiming to be able to teach even the most basic human. Although, the university was in a realm called Hiraeth, which you had never heard of before. The website claimed a very long, extensive waitlist for their classes, and it felt like the opportunity of a lifetime was ripped from your fingers.

Until an ad at the bottom of the page caught your eye. The university was in DIRE need of a Nursing Assistant, and if you got the position, your tuition was included.

Hey, you took Health class in high school, right? You got this. Easy Peasy.

You almost couldn’t believe it when you got a call back from the university the very next day, stating you had gotten the position and your classes started next week.

Throughout the game, you play as an assistant to the Head Nurse (Meeko….), helping her with students who come in sick or injured, while you also juggle your magik classes and unrealistic attractiveness (and sneeziness…) of your surrounding peers that all band together to help you study and pass your final exam. However, what you don’t take into account is the entire reason that the university was so desperate to fill their nursing position.

During exam season every year, a specific flu virus strain that’s only seen in Hiraeth wipes out more than half of the student population, and you’re their first line of defense.

Hoping it sounds like something people would be interested in playing, cause I’ve already spent SO MUCH time on it 😂

[instarsandcrime]

Feathers On a Hearth

Did I just write a 2,000+ word Huskerdust snz fic because I have no impulse control? The answer may not surprise you. Hope you enjoy!

Edit: Someone asked for a follow-up and well. Part 2 I guess!

--

“A day off?” Angel Dust slapped his upper hands on the counter, lower firm on his hips. “Whaddya mean a day off?!”

“My, my! Such a reaction!” The Radio Demon hummed from behind the bar, “I thought you’d be pleased that Husk asked for some relaxation time.”

“Of course I’m happy! That’s the problem!” The other fumed, picking nervously at the hem of a glove. “The bastard never takes his fifteen, let alone twenty four hours to himself. Even after the whole extermination shit went down and the hotel’s name was back up in lights, he opened up shop the next day like nothin’ happened!”

“Hm.” The Overlord’s fingers stilled above a wine glass, drifting into a trance. From a distant white fuzz of radio that traveled with the hotelier, Angel Dust heard bits and pieces of unknown voices, clipped nonsense like jagged edges of glass against a chalkboard.

Unknown help NEEDED uSefuL For meat.

“Alastor?” Angel Dust finally piped up, and his host seemed finished ruminating on the world’s most ominously displayed conclusion.

“I would love to uphold Husker's wishes for privacy. However, if it satiates your curiosity in any way, feel free to convince him otherwise.” Alastor snapped his fingers, and a door somewhere above unlocked with a sharp click, "The poor thing hasn’t come out of his room all day, and I admit it’s a bit disquieting to not have our bartender at the ready. Always waiting with a refreshing drink and a silver tongue...”

Pencil thin brows furrowed. Okay. Okay, fine. Either fuck over Husk’s boundaries– not a fan of goin’ down that road again– or risk it and make sure he’s okay. Regardless.

“Is this some kinda sick way of showin’ that you care about him?” Angel Dust squinted suspiciously.

A howling laughter cut the air like a knife. “O-oh! Ohohoh my! Th-that– ahaha– H-heavens, no!” Alastor wheezed out. “I want to see how badly this trainwreck goes! It's been quite a show to watch such a beloved actor even think about rubbing elbows with a washed up, wrung out has-been like Husker!”

Angel's face twisted, blushing scarlet with anger at a cackling studio audience that filled the bar. He couldn't help it-- whatever cadence, whatever tone, he'd heard the same exact laugh plenty of times with every tug of a chain. “I don’t get what Charlie sees in a creepy, sadistic fucker like you. But y’know what? I hope you get to the top. I hope you get everythin’ you want. Because when you look down from your sad, dinky little radio tower, no one is gonna be there to watch.”

Flashing his last two arms just to flip Alastor off with his entire being, Angel Dust spun on his heel to storm up the steps. And all too faintly, he heard one last little hiccup of a broadcast. He stopped at the haunting swell of violins, nearly tugged backwards by the sobbing of a woman reaching out to embrace her savior.

Thank you. 

The tapping of Alastor’s staff and his hushed string of curses were nothing compared to the smug smirk that nearly split Angel’s face.

“Hey Whiskers, it’s me!” A knock echoed on Husk’s freshly crafted door, pentacle etchings still bonded to the knotted wood. 

His calls were only met with silence.

“C’mon, I ain’t gonna try anything. We’re past all that and you know it.”

The silence persisted. A louder knock. Shit. Alastor was definitely not the type to play a prank, and Husk definitely wasn’t the type to stay quiet forever.

“You okay? You ain’t bleedin’ out on the carpet, right?” He worried his bottom lip, running a thumb against sore knuckles. “...Husker?”

“I heard you the first time.” A gruff voice answered. Oh thank fuck.

“Then what're ya waitin' for? Let a gal in, would ya?”

“Can't.”

“Alright, fine. Then I'll do it myself.”

“No!” A tornado warning seemed to go off the second the doorknob was even slightly turned. All sorts of bits and bobs were haphazardly knocked about in a cacophony of noise. Somewhere along the way the chaos settled for a brief moment, ragged breaths building and building until--

"Ht'shhuh! Hut'CHNX! HHHT'CHNXT'uh!" The sound of shattered glass pierced the air, and Angel Dust nearly jumped in place at the sharp yelp that followed.

"Hey, what the Hell!?"

“I'm okay, don’t-- kaff kaff! don't move. I’ll come to you.” Husk croaked. The door finally crept open and– oh.

“Oh. Oh, wow.” The spider whistled at the sad sight before him. “Ya look like shit.” 

 Or at least, the little bits that poked out. The bartender’s bedsheets were wrapped around him like a patchwork cocoon, making every second standing a heavy, tangled effort for the shivering bundle. Underneath the makeshift hood that covered his head, the fur on his face was matted with sweat, a single claw pressed just below a flushed nose. His eyes were squinting through a bleary fog, as if it took his entire being just to concentrate.

“Nice t’ see you too. Listen. I’m obviously sick, so if you need somethin’ from me just grab it and go.”

Okay, rude. This was not the kind of hot mess Husk usually was-- at least, not six months into their trauma bond. And strange enough, his room was no different. Card collections, casino chips, beer bottles, all the little things were flung every which way. But the most bizarre was a trash can haphazardly stuffed to the brim with red and black feathers, peppered by wads of clawed-through tissues.

“Uhhhh.” Angel Dust's brow furrowed at the sea of half-broken junk, “I don’t need nothin’, but I’m pretty sure if I did then I'd need to ask a gravedigger first.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake– then what do you want?!” Husk snapped. Angel stilled, surging through ten different emotions at once. But the sickly  demon only landed on one, eyes wide with overflowing guilt. He hunched low, retreating towards his bed with wobbling steps. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to– I. I’m just not feelin’ right. Snf! But I'll be better by t-tuhh-tomorrow. Jus’…just forget thihhh-this ever…ever ha-happened.”

Angel Dust watched on in disbelief, mouth slightly agape. Maybe Charlie, Princess of Friendship, could have calmly negotiated with the bartender. Maybe she could have sung a song to magically solve a lesson of the day. Maybe she could have shown love and kindness and all the redemption bullshit that he'd come to respect. But Angel Dust was not Charlie. Angel Dust was Angel Dust. So, with all the love and kindness in his heart, the spider stepped a foot on the blankets and yanked his friend backwards. And caught off guard, Husk released the claw that kept a worrying tickle at bay. 

"Hhhuhh...huh! Hup'shhhoo! Hup'SSHHHUH! Sh-shihhh-shihht nohhh-not agaaaiihhhh…Heh! HETCHHH'HOO!" A pair of wings involuntarily flapped at the small fit, sending a small firework of feathers into the air. Patchy, bare spots that once balanced the owlcat sent him stumbling on the ever-tilting floorboards. And suddenly, body moving before his mind could, Angel Dust hurriedly caught the other in a low dip. Tangled under his partner's shadow, Husk’s red-tipped ears folded until they practically pressed against his skull.

“Snff! Uh. Thanks.” He swallowed.

“No problem.” Angel echoed, stopping to blow a feather from his mussed bangs.

“...You can let go now.”

“If I do, are ya goin' to fall before you even touch the bed?”

Husk's pause lasted a second too long.

“That's what I thought. Now, I’m gonna lead with your shoulder and your waist. And it'll just be touch and nothin' else, cross my heart.”

“Hey, you– kaff! offered to help me out. If there’s an issue that you’re lookin’ for, I couldn’t see one if I tried.” The other mumbled, unsure if he could get any redder.  “But thanks for the heads up, Ange. I mean it.”

Gently the spider guided him with four sturdy arms, the third pair growing to snatch up his shed blankets along the way. Looking down, Angel’s heart suddenly squeezed as the cat in his hold immediately fought sleep at the touch, head lolling against his chest.

“Soooo. You can molt?” Angel squeezed his shoulder playfully.

“...Mm. Sucks, but I always push– snff! Ugh, push through it.” Husk grumbled, scrubbing his eye with a paw to force himself awake. Looking anywhere but at his helper.

“Oh, please! You know I ain’t stoppin’ here, right? I’ve fucked a lotta demons with wings and I gotta say, those bad boys ain't gonna pity ya anytime soon. 'Specially paired with that cold've yours.” He pushed Husk onto the mattress, ignoring the soft grunt that followed. “Now lay down.”

Finally relenting, his patient rolled onto his stomach, pressing a pillow over his head to muffle his thoughts for two entire seconds– or at least while his back and nose had stopped itching something awful. Because without realizing it a warm smolder had filled his chest, sparked at the onslaught of attention. It was the cold. It was just the cold. It was not the sheer audacity of being needy for once in his miserable life. Goddamnit, when had he suddenly become so needy?

“Good boy.” A voice whispered gently, breath hot against his bare back. Yep, that's nausea. Definitely nausea and nothing else. Husk quickly stomped out the growing flame before it could spread any further. Unfortunately, a different sensation crawled up his nose, and he pressed the feather-stuffed fabric against his muzzle. Desperate to not deal any more damage. He was supposed to be the hotel’s bartender. He was supposed to be Angel Dust's bartender. It was his job to look out for the struggling souls around him, not the other way arou-- 

"Huh! Hhhhuuhhh...F-fuck."

"Need help?"

“Wh-whuhh— Snff! What?” Craning his head, the tip of a discarded feather tickled the rim of his nostrils, and whatever pained torture Husk would have had to grin and bear was swapped with another.

"HUP'CHOO! HUT'CHHHOO! Hhhuhhh...hhhuh!...hah hhahhhhHTCH'HUH! Hhhhhuuhhh.......hhhuhh.....hguhh...snff! Ow." Between ragged gulps for air, he heard the thump of books and bottles fall from the high shelves above. He didn't even want to look at the state of his room right now. Instead he blindly grabbed for a tissue, sharp trumpeting blows intertwined with flustered apologies. 

He regretted even thinking about opening his eyes. He would have rather sneezed himself into a second death than deal with the disaster that regularly re-disorganized itself. But vision clearing, he blinked back shock as Angel Dust already had a mop in hand, cleaning supplies at the ready. Steam curled against the cat demon’s cheek, and he turned to see a rag was already soaking on the nightstand. Mystified, the bartender watched as his patron stop mid-task to slide it forward, a welcoming smile on his face. The bowl seemed to move in an oddly nostalgic way. Like the film strip of a memory that didn’t quite catch the light.

Or the offer of a refreshing drink and a silver tongue.

"...This is stupid." Husk finally broke the silence.

"Ugh, I know right? The books are no big deal, but whisky's gonna be a bitch to get outta the carpet. I'll have to grab Niffty before it stains--"

"No. I mean, you don't need t’ clean up after me. I...I-I can do it myself." Husk mumbled, pushing himself upright– or rather, made a daring attempt before collapsing back on the mattress.

Angel Dust stared. Really stared. Throwing aside the handle in his palm, he rested two right hands on his hip. “Husk. Sugar. Sweetheart. Babydoll. You dragged me kickin’ and screamin’ outta bad days plenty of times. What's wrong with me doin’ the same for you?”

“Oh c’mon, we both know that I can do all this bullshit myself. Cleanin’ my room. Washin’ my wings. Why do you need t’ be my personal assistant for the day when you're so busy dealin’ with the studio! 'Specially with Him bitchin’ and moanin’ and runnin' you ragged! I see you stumble through the door at three in the morning, clutching your stomach like it got whittled to nothin’! He orders you around like a goddamn dog on a leash, and then you come home to what? Take care of another asshole like me? Why should some shitty ex-overlord get the same kinda treatment?”

--rubbing elbows with a washed up, wrung out has-been--

Oh.

Oh that motherfucker.

"You--" Angel Dust felt his blood boil, chasing away the ghost of radio static that crawled under his skin. “Are you fuckin' kidding me?!”

Husk jolted, fur puffing in surprise as Anthony pulled him onto his lap. “Stop bein' a dumbass! You deserve this. You deserve to be pampered. If ya think I’m here because I feel pressured and not because you’re actually– oh I dunno, worth bein’ cared for– then let me make things crystal fuckin’ clear for you.”

“Kid–” Overgrown pleas were cut at the stem, body going limp as a steaming cloth trailed down bone dry wings. And as dark thoughts began to drift, the spider rested his chin on the crook of Husk’s neck. One by one he plucked every warped thought with every warped feather.

"You ain't forcin' me to do nothin'. You ain't payin' me as a client. You ain't no toxic ex. And you definitely ain't like Valentino. So get it through your thick skull-- I don't hang around ya 'cause I need to." Cupping a flushed cheek for good measure, Anthony ever so slightly tilted a hypnotized gaze his way. "I do it because I want to."

Faces flushed and heavy-lidded with bliss, the actor forgot himself, bathing in the silence. The peace. The safe haven he called Husk.

The other, very predictably, pulled back to sneeze.

Husk buried his muzzle in a tissue before he could give his drinking buddy-- friend-- partner-- whoever the fuck was in front of him at this point in time an impromptu shower.

"'CHNX! CHNXT'hhhooo...hhhuh! HUH'ASHHHOO!" He cautiously peeked open an eye, blinking back shock when his wings didn't snap open. Instead they continued to lay there, well-washed and preened to perfection. So with a shaky breath he lit the spark in his chest, allowing it to burn gently through his ribcage like it was a small, rusty hearth. Swallowing down a soft purr before it could escape.

"Wait, wait, wait." Yanked back to reality Angel Dust grabbed the cat demon’s shoulder to spin him around, looking him dead in the eye. "Am I crazy, or do you sneeze in triples every time? That’s. Adorable."

"Oh shuuhhh…hhuh!" A blur of a black and red feather swept under his prickling nostrils, fanged smirk kissing the base of downy barbs between lithe fingers.

"Hhhhuh! You s-suhhnofa-a-aahh!...hhhah…” Husk held his breath like his afterlife depended on it, desperately scrubbing at his muzzle to quell the angry itch. Startling when Angel’s lips pecked the tip of his raw nose.

Shit.

“F-fuhhhcking ch-ch-chhheater– Hhhept'choo!" Husk doubled over into the nearly-shredded tissue.

"Oh my goodness, bless you!" The spider demon cooed teasingly. "One."

"Sh-shuhhht…sh-shu-shut the fuck uhhp-- HUP'CHHH’hhoo!"

"Yeesh! That was a big one. Two."

"Guuuuhhh...g-gonna kihh-kill youhhhuuhhh-hhuh-huh-hah! HATCH'HHHOO!"

"Hah! I knew it! Holy shit, that’s so cute!" Angel Dust gushed through bouts of uncontrollable laughter-- rudely interrupted when a pillow smacked him square in the face.

[snezario]

Technical Difficulties; Vo//x

A/N: The Ha/zb/in Hot/el hyperfixation continues... For the longest time, I struggled with how snz with a television screen for a head would even work but @stormyweaver solved that instantly ty friend (I don't even talk abt it in this fic lol)... Anyways I'm throwing this out into the world and hibernating for the next year!! Here's some very self-indulgent tv demon Suffering

You’ll have to try harder than that next time, old pal.

Alastor’s last words to him play again in his mind. The pompous freak. Which brings Vox to his current situation, standing in front of the stained glass doors of the Hazbin Hotel. He straightens his bowtie and raps on the door three times. Charlie opens the door just as his hand lifts from the third knock. Her shock at seeing one of the Vees at her doorstep is quite apparent. Vox smiles widely and extends his hand.

“Your majesty, I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Vox, head of VoxTe-”

“YOU! You gotta lotta fucking nerve coming here!” Before Vox can finish, Angel Dust appears by Charlie’s side stabbing an accusatory finger towards him. Ah yes, Val’s favorite little whore. Almost immediately after, Vaggie is also standing before him, scowling. Vox maintains his sharp grin despite the intrusion and scoots away from Angel’s finger.

“I sincerely apologize for our previous interaction, Princess. Val, Velvette, and I have given it some thought and we were hoping to develop a mutually beneficial relationship. You see, the whole reason we even sent Pentious is because of your current sponsor-”

“Alastor?” Charlie interrupts, tilting her head.

Just the mention of his name is enough to send a volatile surge of electricity through his circuitry. Vox quickly unfurls the fist he unconsciously made and smiles.

“Yes, we seem to have got off on the wrong foot so to speak. Alastor (Vox says his name with such venom that Charlie shrinks back slightly), and I haven’t always quite seen eye-to-eye, but that’s no reason for the two of us to have any quarrel. In fact, we have a few ideas that we’d like to run by you and modernize what you’ve got here.”

Little Miss Bleeding Heart’s eyes light up, her positivity and compassion almost makes him fucking vomit, were he capable of such human vulnerabilities.

“Ohmygod, we would LOVE to have more Overlords on board with the Hazbin Hotel. Come in, come in! Let me show you around,” She beckons him in while Vaggie continues to glare at him suspiciously as he steps over the threshold, pointing her spear at him.

“One wrong move and I’m shoving this spear through your chest,” she threatens.

This is actually the first time he’s stepped foot in the building. It’s not nearly as hi-tech as his VoxTek building, probably that radio fucker’s influence. Husk flips him off from the bar in the back. A small black cat weaves between his legs, purring before settling in on a nearby couch.

Before he can comment on anything, an unmistakable shadow glides along the floor before his rival manifests in front of him. Vox’s blood pressure spikes as he stands face to face with Alastor. The radio demon is wearing his almost patented grin (the smiling freak), seemingly unperturbed by the Vox’s presence at the hotel.

“Ah, if it isn’t my so-called ‘rival.’ Trying your hand at redemption?” Alastor smirks, twirling his staff nonchalantly. Vox’s hypnotic eye swirls with momentary fury. He takes a deep breath and instead of rising to the barb, Vox flashes his own demonic fangs.

Charlie begins the tour in the foyer, showing him every minute detail. Of course, he’s not really listening at all. His attention is momentarily diverted when he feels an unusual tingling in the back of his screen. It passes just as quickly as it appeared. Not giving Vox much time to contemplate it, Charlie drags him off to another room in the hotel.

As they walk around, Princess Morning Star continues chattering excitedly about having sappy conversations in the parlor. Despite Alastor’s insistence that he has better things to do than babysit his media rival, Vox can feel him following close behind them. Not only that, but it’s becoming more clear to him that something is wrong. The fuzzy feeling is starting to become more than just a minor inconvenience. He tries to ignore the rising wave of panic in his chest. He just updated his software not too long ago.

“Soooo what did you think?” Charlie’s looking at him with puppy-dog eyes. He looks around and realizes that they’re back in the lobby. Apparently they made an entire loop of the hotel and now Charlie is expectantly awaiting a response. He opens his mouth to speak but it’s at this moment that the fuzzy feeling becomes outright unbearable. And, unfortunately for him no amount of ignoring it seems to do the trick. The buzzing sensation crests and the veneer of self-control crumbles. His screen glitches out as his body snaps forward as he is overcome by the feeling.

hh’ZZZSHH’uhh!

The hotel lights dim during Vox’s expulsion, causing the residents to glance around in confusion. As the lights flicker back on, Vox realizes that the hotel has fallen completely silent. He finds that he’s also teleported 5 feet from where he was previously standing. Everyone is staring at him, their facial expressions a mix of annoyance, bewilderment, and amusement (from Alastor, the bastard). Angel is the first to speak.

“What the fuck just happened?”

Vox mentally repeats the same question to himself. What the fuck did just happen? Did he just… sneeze? He didn’t even think it was possible, at least not in his new form.

“Seems like our little video friend is experiencing some *technical* difficulties.” Alastor chimes in, the pleasure he seems to have derived from Vox’s predicament is quite apparent. Smug piece of shit. What he wouldn’t give to punch him in his perfect teeth.

His resolve wavers as he senses another prickle at the back of his head. Sparks generate along his frame as Vox tries to fight another surge of the unwanted feeling… to no avail. Vox’s screen dims as he involuntarily sucks in a sharp breath.

hh’zZZSHh! ihh..ihh’ZZSSHhoo!

The outburst causes another surge of electricity in the hotel, as well as leading a couple of the overhead light bulbs to explode. By the time he straightens up Niffty has already sprung into action, sweeping up the shards of glass that now litter the hotel floor.

“WHATTHEFUCK,” he spits out, unable to maintain his composure despite the fact that he had an audience.

“Hmm, persistent,” Alastor muses, thoughtful tapping his slender fingers on the top of his staff. While everyone else is still processing the most recent events, Alastor surveys the damage to the hotel. As scans the lobby, his gaze falls on KeeKee. Realization dawns on him. Ohoho, this could be quite entertaining, best he keep this bit of information to himself for now.

“I– ihh… I have to go,” Vox manages to say through clenched teeth. The less he said the better his chances were if he were going to keep the feeling at bay. He prepares to teleport out, but not before the sneeze he was so desperately trying to hold back, slips out.

ih’ITZZSSHhh! Godfuckingdamnit. To save himself what little dignity Vox has left, not that there’s much remaining at this point, he departs in a flash of light.

“Talk lat-” Charlie trails off as she realizes that Vox has already electorported out of the hotel.

“Well that was quite interesting,” Alastor spins his staff around before magick-ing it out of existence. He seems to have something on the tip of his tongue, but ultimately decides to keep the thought to himself, humming nonchalantly as he walks away.

Sitting on his couch, Vox groans and flops back. Well not only did that fail miserably, Vox embarrassed himself in front of the entire Hazbin Hotel family. He sinks deeper into the couch cushions as the entire fiasco plays in his head. His rumination is interrupted by a straggling tickle.

huh’zZZCCHh!

Dragging a hand down his screen, he sniffles (really?! this just got better and better) and sighs. This was quite an unpleasant experience, one he would not like to deal with again anytime soon. Somehow he felt this was Alastor’s doing, no he knew the radio demon fuck definitely had something to do with it.

[sherbet-shivers]

A Minor Malfunction Part 1/3

We need to ignore that this is 6 years late ashgdahls (I only just got to play D/etroit: B/ecome H/uman and my love for sweet baby boy Co/nnor is alive)! Also figured snz is still snz, so even if you don’t care for the fandom you might enjoy the main course anyway lol

**Please do not share to non-kink snz blogs — no need to drag vanillas into this! This is also my first time posting to tumblr at all, so formatting tips are always welcome <3**

Blurb: Connor suffers a little virus (Part 2 here and Part 3 here)

Characters: Co/nnor R/K800 (-centric because he’s babygirl) and H/ank A/nderson

Length: 4k+ words

TW: cursing, minor robot discrimination; no spoilers

“You’re quiet tonight, Connor,” Hank observes between sips of his drink. His name triggers the Android to lift his head and meet his partner’s gaze, which studies him conspicuously.

Connor smiles a bit stiffly. “You usually prefer me quiet, Lieutenant.”

His investigative partner groans. “Yeah, when you’re barking up my ass,” he scoffs, though his voice lacks any hints of malice. The two had been working a handful of Deviant cases together and Hank’s introductory disdain had subtly been reduced to something warmer. Teasing had become their shared language, which was a preferred change of pace from where they’d started; not to mention a great way to lighten the mood between all the rumors of homicide and an Android uprising. Still, in spite of their growing closeness, Connor doubted Hank considered him a true partner, let alone a friend, but at least the two were no longer arguing like they had been a few weeks prior.

“So,” Hank starts again, “what’s going on with you?”

Connor makes a face, even tilting his head a bit before glimpsing side to side. “Nothing, as we’re currently idle in a bar.”

“No shit, smartass. I mean what’s going on, as in why are you acting all funny?”

“Funny?” Connor sifts through his memory, trying to recall a recent instance in which he’d been humorous by Hank’s standards. To no one’s surprise, he comes up empty. “I don’t recall acting funny. Why? Do you want to hear a joke?”

“Wha-? No! Christ, nevermind; just forget I said anything you weirdo,” Hank dismisses.

Connor didn’t mind the rejection (nothing was personal to machines), but he was programmed to follow orders; thus, he re-quiets, following Hank’s lead.

However, just because he’s silent, doesn’t mean he’s inactive. An Android’s life was rarely dull given there was a full 24 hours in day to take advantage of. As much as Hank said he loved naps, Connor couldn’t imagine wasting precious work hours to sleep.

Even now they were technically “freed” of their investigative duties, but Connor still had plenty of personal maintenance to attend to. It was the daily obligation of an RX800 model like himself (all AI models really), and so he promptly runs a survey of his internal diagnostics. Aside from making his masters happy, it was an Android’s priority to ensure that everything about them is up to date and code — ranging from their adaptive software to the state of their hard drive.

At the same time, he decides to trace through the entirety of his memories, still determined to figure out what Hank meant when he said “acting funny”. Funny…the word repeats in Connor’s head. Human emotions and terms were somewhat difficult to diagnose on his own, though Hank’s recent company had introduced Connor to a wide collection of colorful language. So many terms denoted so many different meanings, many of which were subjective and therefore wildly confusing to a purely calculative mind. So when Hank said Connor was “acting funny”, what exactly did that mean? His type of humor was unique (and apt to change given his BAC), so maybe what he found funny wasn’t what Connor had originally filtered for. Or maybe…the term meant something entirely different altogether? But, then what did that mean? Questions like these are what made humans so fascinating and troubling according to Connor’s programming. He could run himself in circles for hours asking the same questions, constantly seeking meaning, searching for answers, decoding Hank’s unusual phrases-

Suddenly, an alarm goes off in Connor’s system, alerting him to some kind of error in his software. It’s honestly startling, catching the Android surprisingly off-guard for once. This…hadn’t ever happened before; at least, not while he was without a suitable guardian or engineer nearby. Thankfully he’s already wired to know exactly how to respond, and thus promptly performs a system-wide scan to diagnose the error in question. Within seconds, his answer is received, though to his misfortune, it’s little more conclusive.

Code: C5Y0091-24BC. Classification: Unauthorized Bio-Component Breach By Unknown Digital Error. Software Virus Suspected. Result: Bio-Component Defects And Malfunction. CyberLife has been automatically contacted. Expect an update within 24 hours.

A single blink has Connor back in reality, surrounded by the musky odors characteristic of the many bars he and Hank frequently hopped. Hank is muttering something about the game with Jimmy’s bartender, but Connor hardly hears them.

Virus? Malfunction? How could that be possible? Connor had experienced software issues in the past, but many were easily patched or otherwise resolved by his masters, sometimes within seconds! So this was…unusual to say the least. He’d been warned of course to stay vigilant against hackers, obvious glitches, chain mail, pirated sites, FaceBook and other shady threats — it’s why he ran diagnostics multiple times a day. So how could this have happened? How could he have been so negligent to have missed something?

At least CyberLife had been notified, which meant he’d only have to wait a few hours for his orders on how to proceed; but until then, what was he expected to do? He was hesitant to trust himself, especially after being branded by his own system as potentially defective.

Malfunction. The word echoes through his system and encourages Connor to continue searching his recent stored memories. He weaves through the past effortlessly in search of anything that could stand out or explain his current predicament…and that’s when he’s reminded of what Hank said not more than two minutes ago. Funny. Had he really slipped up so poorly even he hadn’t noticed something but Hank did? What did it mean if a trained AI couldn’t catch a mistake while a human so easily could?

Connor chooses not to answer that question as he comes across a particular gap in his memory — one he hadn’t noticed until now. It was short — a blackout lasting no more than four seconds — but that may as well have been an eternity if it meant there was an absence of crucial information. Rewinding prior to the lull in time, Connor revisits a particular scene during he and Hank’s investigation earlier that same day.

The two of them had been assigned to a Deviant case involving an unnamed MJ100. The dog sitter had been out walking two corgis, both belonging to its owner when it was confronted by a group of six human protesters. After being cornered, the Android was jumped, pushed to the ground, and kicked repeatedly, enduring damage to its left ocular component and minor denting targeting its knee attachment on the same side. Its gait was consequently deemed unstable as it tried to pick itself up. As it could not recalculate its balance, it was knocked down a second time; and on its third attempt, the Android had defied its programming and resorted to fighting off its aggressors using heavy handed tactics and a nearby blunt object (presumably one of the protester’s sign boards). It then attempted to flee the scene but made it less than a block away before being tackled and deactivated by a local officer.

Weirdly enough, the next few details are a bit scrambled within Connor’s hard drive. All that is clear is that while investigating the Android’s body and calculating the damage, Connor’s vision goes dark — particularly after coming into direct contact with its bio components. It’s a startling discovery, and his vision only seems to return a few seconds later after Hank snaps at him to answer a question he’d claimed to have repeated once before.

Following that instance, minor things that should’ve caught Connor’s attention had gone completely unnoticed. His temperatures were running high and low interchangeably by several degrees, his system wasn’t adequately flushing out debris causing congestion within his gears, and even his processing speed — which usually ran above peak performance — was barely keeping up with that of a model two series back.

How had he missed all that? Surely he would’ve recalled Hank repeating himself, if not the obvious lull in time and all the issues impairing his components. Why couldn’t he put together a simple sequence of events? Just how damaging was this virus? What happened to him within that lost period?

“Hey!”

Connor glimpses at Hank, who is snapping in his line of sight. The old detective snorts once he realizes Connor has come to.

“Jesus, I guess even robots can be space cadets now, huh?” He muses as he slaps a wadded up stack of bills onto the counter and slides them over to the standing bartender. “I’m heading home to feed my dog. You’d better go back to the station and recharge yourself, Blinky. That fucking disc in your temple is going crazy.”

Without any further pleasantries, Hank takes off towards the door and exits the bar through a cloud of cigarette smoke. Connor meant to pay for his drinks and a ride home, but he supposed that’d have to wait until tomorrow. For now, it was probably best he follow his partner’s commands. After all, he was made to heed directions, and eager to run another diagnostic scan undisturbed.

Going in the opposite direction of his partner, Connor starts his way back to the police station downtown, occupying his walk by fumbling with the trademark silver coin he carries in his pocket. Hopefully all he needed for a fresh start was an overnight rebooting.

…

Connor Model Prototype RX800 — Serial Number: 313 248 317. Functionality: Below Average. Code: C5Y0091-24BC. Classification: Unauthorized Bio-Component Breach By Digital Error 2B9YD77158G. Software Virus Confirmed. Result: Bio-Component Defects And Malfunction. Self-Repairs Update Initialized. Time Remaining: 62 Hours, 58 Minutes, And 23 Seconds. System performance is being automatically monitored by and reported to CyberLife HQ.

The alert rouses him from his sleep mode. It wasn’t the best news to start the day with, but then again, neither was this creeping sensation bothering his nose and tickling his chest. He attempts another scan to source out the cause, but is immediately interrupted by a sudden, involuntary gasp. The reaction quickly proves out of his control; because in spite of trying to fight and diagnose it, his efforts prove futile as his chest inflates, mouth parts, and he’s bent at the waist with an unexpected-

“Ah’HTSHh’iew!” And another? “Iihy’YDTZSH’shH! Hh-?!” And another?? “hK’SCH’uh!”

He shakes his head and sniffles instinctively, more than a little surprised and uneasy following such an aggressive series of outbursts. He didn’t like that one bit, and could only assume that a reflex like that attested to the true extent of his malfunction. Not only that, but the annoying fluttering feeling in his face hadn’t been remotely relieved; if anything, it’d been stirred and hurled through his system like a shock of irritating static. He wasn’t familiar with automatic overrides to his manual settings, and didn’t wish to experience that again if he could help it.

Straightening his back, he ignores the blank gazes from his fellow policing Androids, who are similarly parked in their charging stations in rows running to his left and right.

“Excuse me,” Connor murmurs, not that any of his companions could feel offended by his unusual behavior. He’d only said it out of sheer obligation, though perhaps somewhere deep in his system he was also preventing being viewed as a threat…as unfortunately impaired.

A malfunction.

For the sake of preserving his public image, he would commit himself to being as discreet as possible. He wasn’t a malfunction, and he would set himself to prove it. He just had to get through the next two days without drawing unwanted attention or affording any more hiccups. He could do that.

Right?

…

For the first time since his creation and introduction to the public eye, Connor was experiencing…doubts. The virus he’d contracted was proving to be more difficult to supersede the more hours that went on. The rate of his degradation was…less than optimal, to say the least. For one, his bio-components (as predicted) were suffering unfamiliar glitches all over. His movements were sluggish despite a full night’s charge, and his data processing was running at a measly 73% speed — even slower than last night. His internal temperatures were rising and falling like a seesaw; the balance constantly tipped between too hot and too cold. It was starting to affect his bio regulators, which couldn’t decide if he needed to start letting off steam or shiver through the morning. Thankfully, these ailments weren’t too difficult to hide so long as he was diligent in monitoring them and constantly tracking their progression. As soon as something was apt to change, he was quick to process a solution in order to appear as normal and high functioning as possible.

What he couldn’t predict nor control was the sudden influx of outbursts.

It’d only been a handful of hours since he “woke”, and even less time since the station opened up to its human staff; and already, Connor was slipping up here and there. As an Android, people paid him little attention (which actually worked in his favor), but that didn’t mean he wasn’t concerned over being reported by a fellow Android or a stray, observant human. After all, he’d discovered that no matter how hard he tried, he still couldn’t do much to prevent-

“Iiy’aASCH’hiEW!”

That. He despised the act itself, and grew frustrated every time it took him by surprise. Why was it so difficult to challenge or prepare for? If he had just a little more notice, he could stop himself or at least attempt to override its command. However, every time he tried, he just couldn’t. He was being outplayed by an infraction, a glitch — a minor one at that! — and that only added to the frustration gnawing at his senses.

As if the lack of control alone wasn’t bad enough, he was also starting to tire of the persistent, crawling itch tracing his nose and teasing at the inner cavity. It was terribly irritating, prompting him to pinch and rub at his face, or sweep a knuckle under the sensitive (and offending) appendage. But doing so often only relit the flame, like a match reigniting a fire so close to dying, but reluctant to fade out. Even now, just as he earns some relief thanks to a series of sniffling and scrubbing, he feels that ember kicking up again; tickling and teasing against his inner sinuses until he’s forced to-

“eE’SHYIU’Uui! ‘dSHH!…ha’hh-! uH’-!”

The final one teases him, so much so he isn’t even certain it’s the last one. He’s aware he must look ridiculous — an Android caught in a hysteric limbo, interrupted by a dysfunction that it’d never succumb to before, let alone conceived. He tries desperately to fight it — to prove he can use sheer logic to overcome his own reflex, but the itch is just too overwhelming, causing his eyes to squint and lips to quiver. So after a few good seconds of rebelling against the inevitable, he hastily pardons himself to the station’s supply closet, locks the door behind him, and surrenders to his system.

In his clumsy haste however, he had managed to knock over a few spare broomsticks, and even rattled a small tower of cardboard boxes. His vision was immediately clouded by a puff of gray, but he didn’t have much time to observe or clean up the mess since he was already too busy-

“ae’ESHHEW’ww! Aa’KSCH’yIEW! T’tdSSH’yiEW!”

Was it getting worse?! Between hitching breaths Connor struggles to perform another scan. He interrupts himself twice, but ultimately the result comes back, reading out in bold text: Environmental Irritant Level: High. Bio-Receptor Reactivity: High. System Override: Automatic. Self-Repairs Update Ongoing. Time Remaining: 57 Hours, 22 Minutes, And 19 Seconds. System performance is being automatically monitored by and reported to CyberLife H-

“HHh’ITSH’hUuii! Ahh…h’ah-! H’-! H’PTzsSH’IEWw!”

They were stumbling out of him in pairs and triples now, every fittish burst triggering glitches in his sight and sending shivers down his core. He tries to keep them quiet by smothering his nose into his palm, but air manages to slip out anyway, making hisses of noise he’s starting to find…embarrassing? Perhaps shameful was a more accurate term, on second thought.

Still caught between sneezing or not sneezing, he squints through bubbling gasps and hones in on his immediate area. His specs focus in on the particles of dust scattered around him; no doubt disturbed by his sudden entrance. His system classifies the debris as a common irritant. Ah. So that’s what was setting him off worse than before.

He shakes his head and scrubs at his nose with a free knuckle. Here he thought he’d finally found some reprieve only to cause himself another problem. He should’ve expected this or pre-calculated the chances of this happening, but of course little was working in his favor with a bugged out tactical unit.

“Hih’PTSHH’ieew! Ah’haaH-…!”

Seriously? How long did this usually last?

“h’H-…! Nnng…oH’H-!…oh…”

Connor lets out an artificial sigh, his nose twitching aggressively and mouth uncurling from a snarl. The itch hasn’t quite dissipated, but at least the urge to sneeze has retreated for the time being. As he scratches at his face and sniffs testily, he makes a mental note-to-self to avoid any more stale or dirty areas over the next two days.

He had to get out of here, before someone noticed he went missing or worse, caught him in the act of hiding. Reluctant to get dragged into another fit but eager to escape, he raises his arm and buries his nose against his sleeve — a courtesy he believes humans are commonly accustomed to when they suffer similar ailments. He then tends to the supplies around him, returning them to their exact state before he’d made a wreck of things. Once adequately tidied (both he and the closet space), Connor tentatively unlocks the closet and exits the shroud of its privacy.

The immediate change in lighting is too fast for his eyes to process, causing a temporary blindness that stings his circuits and scatters pixels across his vision. He grimaces unconsciously as he heads towards his desk, and to his surprise, the commanding officer is waiting for him when he approaches.

“There you are RX800. We’ve got a new report about a Deviant downtown. I want you to pull Hank from wherever the fuck he is and go investigate.”

The chief slips a manilla folder into Connor’s hands then readjusts the belt around his gut. Connor busies himself with downloading the walls of text in his hands, then blinks up at his boss with an automated smile.

“Of course, Chief Fowler. I’ll be sure to retrieve Mr. Anderson, and we will investigate the scene immediately.”

His response is somewhat obvious, but still, the chief approves of his confirmation, nodding as he starts to brush past the bot. Connor glimpses down at the data in his hands again, when suddenly, his captain pauses and waves for his attention. Promptly, Connor swivels on his heel.

“You look different, RX,” the officer acknowledges, more skeptical than worried. “More…,” he ponders for the words, eventually settling on, “blue.”

Blue? Connor couldn’t tell what his commander meant, at least not with his processing unit so slow to react. Did he mean sad — as in the human emotional equivalent of blue? Taking a guess, Connor puts on his best smile in spite of his state and shakes his head.

“I assure you I’m normal, Captain. Fully functioning and eager to follow your directives!”

He hopes his summery tone is enough to dissuade his captain’s lingering stare — which it ultimately does — however, instead of looking appeased, his commander only looks more confused before resuming his strut in the other direction. Connor shuffles uncomfortably where he remains, glimpsing side to side self-consciously in case other people have witnessed his untimely encounter with the chief. Thankfully nobody seems to notice, but in the midst of his search, Connor manages to catch a glimpse at his own reflection against Hank’s black computer screen. He leans a bit closer to get a better look at himself, and what he finds puts his erroneous state into further perspective.

His hair is disheveled, the corners of his eyes tainted with faint webs of static, and his cheeks and nose are dusted a blue color eerily similar to that of his Thirium — his blue blood. That’s probably what Fowler was talking about; and if that wasn’t already damning enough, Connor could only imagine what Hank would say (or think) when he fetched him.

Connor smooths back his hair and pats at his cheeks. He’d have to be extra cautious with Hank if he wanted to dodge his attention. It’d be a difficult task given the detective had already picked up on his mild dysfunction the night prior, but Connor was always committed to giving his best effort. Sure, it may slow down his rate of update, but likely by a negligible amount.

Confident in his ability to disguise his condition, Connor tucks the Chief’s folder under his arm and heads down the nearest hallway towards the station’s south exit. This would work, and it would be worth it.

Anything was worth it if it meant sparing Hank’s judgment.

…

By the time Connor reaches Hank’s house, he’s damp with rainwater. He’d made longer treks in the rain in the past, but this time, he’d failed to take into account how the weather would affect his weakened system. Currently his internal temperature sat at an unusual low of 57 degrees Fahrenheit, and his whole body was shaking to make up for the cold. In the short amount of time that had passed, optimization had dropped to 66%.

The only positive was he’d somehow managed to relieve the blue tint in his face, and the repeated fits of sneezing had died down significantly now that he was surrounded by fresh air. If he was fortunate, that’s how it’d remain for the next several hours.

The Android climbs the front porch, then knocks at Hank’s door (always in threes). As usual, he’s first greeted by Sumo’s barking followed by the muffled sounds of Hank cursing out his unexpected (but still somehow predictable) return visitor.

“Goddammit, not today you walking nuisance!”

At least he knows it’s him.

“Apologies Lieutenant, but I’ve been given direct orders by Chief Fowler to come get you. He wants us to investigate another Deviant case immediately.”

There’s no response. Connor didn’t usually grovel, but he had work to do, and it was starting to get pretty cold out there in the rain.

“P-Please,” Connor pleads, unintentionally stuttering thanks to the shivers wracking his system. “You know I can’t do this without you, Lieutenant.”

There’s another pause of silence, only this time it’s followed by a characteristic groan and the sound of footsteps approaching the porch. Right on cue, Connor takes a step back just as Hank flings open the door and motions him inside.

“Get your ass in here and give me fifteen minutes, huh? I need to change and sober up a bit.”

Connor nods as he follows Hank inside, getting no more than a few feet into the living room before he’s bombarded by Sumo, who licks at his shins and threatens to knock him over given his massive size.

“Sumo down!” Hank orders as he heads towards his bedroom, though the friendly Saint Bernard pays his master no mind.

Connor giggles as he kneels to Sumo’s height and proceeds to pet behind his ears. “Good boy, Sumo,” he consoles. Freeing one hand, Connor fishes in his pockets until he comes across a particular texture, revealing a hidden stash of spare treats he carries solely for occasions like this. He palms the biscuits over for Sumo’s pleasure, and smiles fondly as the hound licks them from his grasp.

“You better not be feeding him again, Connor!” Hank calls from the other room.

“Of course not, sir!” Connor answers, cooing as Sumo’s tongue tickles his fingers. The more he visited Hank’s home, the more he looked forward to seeing Sumo’s goofy smile. He was starting to see why humans adored animals — especially good boys like Sumo.

“Riiiight,” Hank drawls in return. He’s been a detective for over 20 years, so why an Android attempted lying to him about his own dog, he seriously didn’t know. “Hey, Connor!”

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

“Remind me later to tell Fowler to kiss my ass next time he sends me out into the rain. Swear that fucker doesn’t ever need me until the weather is shit,” he adds beneath a grumble.

“Will do,” Connor answers, still mildly distracted by the fluffy lump of love curled by his feet.

After a few more minutes, Hank emerges from his bedroom, dressed in a darkened leather coat, distressed blue jeans, and boots well past their wear. It complimented his grizzled aesthetic, which Connor was starting to find charming the more time they spent together. Hank must catch the way he’s staring, because he furrows his brows and gnaws at his bottom lip; a habit indicating some level of self-consciousness.

“What? I got something on my face?” Hank asks. It wouldn’t be the first time he left the house with pizza stains and booze clinging to his beard.

“No,” Connor replies, frankly. “I like your outfit. You look handsome, Lieutenant.”

Hank looks more perturbed than complimented, but regardless he says nothing but “Christ” under his breath as he brushes past Connor and swipes his house keys off his computer desk. As he does, the faint blush of his cheeks are exposed by the soft glow of his laptop’s LED. Connor smiles, rising to his feet and reaching for the door handle. Swinging it open, he beckons for Hank to lead the way.

Hank obliges the kind offer, but halts midstep just as he’s about to pass the pseudo-doorman.

“What’s on your face?” he asks after glimpsing Connor up and down.

The Android shuffles in place. “I-I don’t know what you mean,” he answers somewhat meekly.

Hank doesn’t believe him for a second, that much was obvious with the way he stiffens his jaw and narrows his eyes. Still, he chooses not to elaborate, and simply relents to looking back at Sumo, who has sidled up against his leg as a goodbye gesture. Hank gives the pup one last parting pat on the head before stepping out into the morose outdoors.

“Hold down the fort, Sumo. This won’t take long,” Hank sighs. “I’m not wasting more than four hours out in this goddamn shit.”

He starts down the front steps while Connor turns to close the door behind them. As the Android does so however, a dreadfully familiar tickle takes him by surprise, gracing him with barely enough time to tuck his nose into his collar — a sloppy and hurried attempt to suppress a mini fit.

“iihH’MFFSH’ui! ih’zZSHH! dtsSH’yiew!”

He sniffles carefully as he rises from his jacket and shakes his head free of the bothersome itch.

“Connor! The Hell are you doing?” Hank calls from the sidewalk.

“Nothing; sorry! I'm coming, Lieutenant!”

Sumo whimpers at the Android and paws at his leg, as though he senses something is wrong with his second best friend. To relieve the dog’s distress, Connor cups Sumo’s chin and scratches it one last time.

“I’m alright, Sumo. Be a good boy, okay? I promise I’ll bring Hank back home soon.”

With that said, Connor closes the door, tugs the handle to make sure it’s locked, then races after his Lieutenant. As he closes in on his side, another alert crowds his interface, reading: Functionality: Moderately Impaired. Code: C5Y0091-39BC. Result: Bio-Component Defects And Malfunction. Risk Of Shut-Down: Low. Self-Repairs Update Ongoing. Time Remaining: 55 Hours, 50 Minutes, And 50 Seconds. System performance is being automatically monitored by and reported to CyberLife HQ.

He sniffs discreetly and steals a final pinch at his nose. For one of the few times since they’d met, Connor agreed with Hank completely.

Hopefully this is all over soon.

[selene-and-the-cold]

Taking a Rest (OCs, M/M)

First of all, I wanted to thank everybody who commented or reblogged or liked my fic "Taking a Ride". I was truly surprised and happy that you all enjoyed reading about Silas and Albert so much!

And since their business was not yet concluded, I present to you another installment. It can be read on its own, but I'd recommend reading their first adventure "Taking a Ride" first.

I hope to add another part, since the text post Silas and Albert are inspired by actually talked about Silas catching the cold from Albert, and we have yet to see that...

But I digress. So what are you going to read in this fic? Silas makes good on his promise and pays our sick Albert a visit for some TLC. Fluff ensues, and Silas is confronted with... feelings.

There's also a bit of snz and a bare male chest (shocking, I know...).

***

Taking a Rest

Following the exhilarating carriage ride with his dear Albert, Silas woke up the next morning with mixed feelings. It had been most unfortunate that he had had to decline Albert's invitation due to his father coming down to London to talk business with Silas. However, since this nuisance of a meeting could not be avoided, Silas decided to take it on in stride. The sooner he tackled whatever problem presented itself, the sooner he would have time to make good on his promise and call on his poor Albert, who had contracted a chill on his business trip to Cardiff.

Archer, Silas' valet, had thankfully prepared everything so Silas only needed to freshen up and slip into his clothes with Archer's assistance prior to meeting his father. As usual, Silas skipped breakfast, a habit Albert had often reprimanded him for, but Silas usually did not see the point of it - at least if there was no company to take his breakfast with.

He did, however, take the time for a sip of tea, as his throat was quite parched.

The meeting with his father was – regrettably – not as boring as Silas had anticipated. Well, technically, it was always a good thing when conversations were not boring. In this case, however, a boring conversation would have been much preferred, since there had been some irregularities in the accounts of one of their smaller estates and Silas' father had asked him to look into the matter.

It had to be done discreetly, though, since there was a possibility that the estate's bookkeeper was involved. Therefore, they had to avoid rousing the man's suspicions lest it would lead to evidence being destroyed.

It was altogether unpleasant business, and Silas left the meeting with a slight headache.

At least his father would drive up to their home estate in the country that very night, so Silas would not have to deal with any courtesy visits.

After parting ways with his father, Silas set his private network in motion to discreetly gather information on the matter. This meant several carriage rides to various gentlemen of his acquaintance as well as a long stretch of letter-writing in his office, until Silas was finally free to visit Albert, who had been on his mind all day.

~~~~

“I'm afraid, Lord de Lacy, but Sir Albert is not in a state to receive any callers this afternoon,” Barker, Albert's valet, informed him when Silas came round to call on his friend.

Silas' heart sank. Why would Albert have Barker decline visitors? This could only mean that poor Bertie's chill had taken a turn for the worse.

“I understand. However, we arranged a meeting for today only yesterday evening. Could you please inform Sir Albert that it is me who's calling, Mr. Barker?”

Barker seemed to consider whether he was in a position to decline this request. Silas was, after all, a lord. So he finally bobbed his head and said: “Very well, my Lord,” before he left Silas to wait in Albert's entrance hall. While he waited, Silas found himself fidgeting nervously with the brim of his hat, which he had taken off upon entering. Not knowing how Albert was faring proved to be pure agony.

After what seemed like an eternity, Barker returned and if Silas had not known better, he would have sworn that the ghost of a smile had lingered on the valet's face.

“My apologies, my Lord. Sir Albert will see you now.”

Silas followed Barker into Albert's reading room, where he was greeted by a crackling fire, and a pale-faced Albert.

He was outstretched on a chaise-lounge, propped up with pillows and wearing what looked like his sleepwear and the silk, navy-blue dressing gown with paisley pattern that brought out the colour of his eyes so well. A thick blanket covered his legs and chest, and Albert clasped a white handkerchief in his hand, while a cup of tea sat on a side-table next to the chaise-lounge. It was all a rather pitiful sight.

As he saw Silas approach, Albert weakly tried to sit up straighter, but Silas immediately went over and placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Albert, please, don't sit up on my behalf, there's no need...,” Silas began, but stopped himself from fussing, acutely aware of Barker's continued presence.

He withdrew his hand from Albert's arm, and wished things would not have to be so complicated. All he wanted was to comfort the person he... cared about? Liked? Held in great esteem?

Suddenly bewildered, Silas blinked a few times. What exactly was this... feeling spreading there in his chest?

They had never talked about what it was that they shared. It had all just fallen into place one day, so naturally that Silas never had a reason to question or define this new level their friendship had ascended to.

Then again, he had never seen Albert so pale and sick. Had never worried about him so much.

“Thank you Barker, that will be all for the mboment. Please leave us alone and inform any other callers that I won't receive anyone today.”

“As you wish, Sir,” Barker said, then closed the door behind him as he retreated, leaving the two men to it.

“Oh Bertie, you look awfully pale. How are you, dearest?,” Silas asked, as soon as he was certain they were alone, taking off his gloves as he sat down on the chaise-lounge next to his ailing friend. Now that it was just the two of them, all his worry and affection for Albert flowed freely from him once again.

“Truth be told, I have beed better...,” Albert admitted, his usual melodious voice reduced to a weak, rasping, quivery thing. Silas winced at the sound of it. Before he could express his sympathy, though, Albert hastily turned away from him to half-muffle a sneeze into his handkerchief.

“Hehh'ESshhTSsHHtt!! Ugh.. Excuse mbe...”

“Bless you,” Silas offered and gently rubbed Albert's thigh through the blanket. “No need to apologise.”

“Thank you...,” Albert sighed, then sank back against the chaise-lounge, looking thoroughly drained from the effort of turning away to sneeze. “Oh, Sy, I feel truly awful. I couldn't stop sndeezing all day. Mby throat is sore, mby chest hurts from coughing, and mby head has ndot stopped pounding since I got up.”

Silas tsked in sympathy, scooting further up the chaise-lounge until he could rest a hand on Albert's chest. It was warm, yet Albert seemed to be cold despite the merry flames dancing in the fireplace.

“Oh, Bertie! I am sorry you're feeling so poorly... Although I might think the headache was to be expected, since you've been quite tipsy yesterday.”

Albert closed his eyes and let his head loll back against the chaise-lounge with a pathetic sigh. “Please dod't rembind mbe of mby own foolishness... Heh'EsSSHH!” The sneeze was followed by a little whimper and Albert dabbed at his running nose in a pathetic attempt to maintain decorum.

“My apologies,” Silas said with a small grin, taking Albert's free hand to kiss it gently.

“But I've taken your advice, Sy, and have been resting for mbost of the day,” Albert continued and bestowed a tired smile on his friend.

“Very good, my dear. And I would like you to continue in this manner for at least the next two days... We can't have this chill settle any deeper into your bones than it already has.”

As he spoke, Silas's hand travelled from Albert's chest to his cheek, cupping it gently, before Silas leaned down to place a fond kiss on Albert's forehead.

“Mhm... I do believe you are running a fever, too...,” Silas murmured, his lips still lingering on the warm skin.

“I do?,” Albert asked in a small voice, sounding thoroughly disheartened by this news.

“I'm afraid so, dearest. Perhaps we could send for a cool compress for your forehead... Oh and I brought something for you as well,” Silas added, all caring smiles as he pulled a little container out of the pocket of his suit.

“I stopped by the pharmacy before I came to call on you and the apothecary highly recommended this balm to soothe coughs and headaches. It is supposed to be applied directly to the chest and / or to your back, but you have to keep warm and stay bundled up after applying it, so the balm won't cool your skin down too much...”

Seeing Albert's face, Silas suddenly stopped prattling on about the the balm. Albert studied him with an incredulous look, his glassy eyes wide, his face the most earnest Silas had seen him since before he had to leave for Cardiff when they had a hushed, stolen goodbye in the broom cabinet of their Gentlemen's Club.

Had he said something wrong?

“What... what is it, Albert?”

The uncertainty in his voice was unmistakeable and Silas hated being so vulnerable, so fragile. With just one look, Albert had him all flustered and insecure, tearing away the carefully crafted layers of “Lord Silas”, exposing the little awkward boy he was, always in the shadows of his grandiose older brother.

“Ndothing,” Albert was quick to reassure, “it's just... Ndo one has ever brought mbe balms for mby chest when I was sick before. Actually ndo one ever called on mbe when I was sick before.”

“Oh?”

Albert's words took a moment to fully settle in, threatening to make Silas blush. Albert had admitted this so casually, so calmly as if it was the most common thing in the world. Did he have any idea how this set Silas's inner world in turmoil? How his heart was suddenly hammering in his chest?

It took another moment for Silas to regain his footing, his boyish charm slowly returning while he tried to give his next words a light, nonchalant tone as if Albert had made a little joke instead of a confession.

“Oh!... But you knew I would call on you today, Bertie!,” he gave Albert's leg a little swat for good measure. “I promised, didn't I? So no need to be all flabbergasted by it. That's what friends do.”

Albert sniffled, his face still earnest and his eyes filled with an unspoken fondness that ran straight through Silas' heart.

“Yes, you did, Sy. Hehh...HEhh'ERrrSSHHU! Snnnff... However, mbaking a promise and keeping it are two very different stories.”

Silas blushed, then fussed with the blanket, arranging and rearranging it, before he ventured to gaze at his friend.

“I'll always keep my promises to you, Bertie,” he said sincerely. Then, feeling the sudden weight of his words, he panicked and started to babble. “Well, I'll try, alas I'm far from perfect, so there will be ample opportunity for me to make a muck of things...”

Why the blazes was he rambling on about mucking up and failing to keep promises? Thankfully, Albert had the grace to interrupt him.

“I kndow that you are ndot perfect, Sy. And frankly, thank God for that! Otherwise I would be completely out of mby depth with you... Hehh... ESSHHiU!!”

Albert pitched forward with a pitiful sneeze, doing his best to catch it in his handkerchief, but the poor piece of fabric had already caught many a sneeze today and seemed to be at the end of its capacity.

“Here, Bertie. Take mine,” Silas offered softly, then took Albert's spent handkerchief from him, stuffed it into his coat pocket and replaced it with his own. His initials – SdL – were elaborately stitched into one corner, and Silas found a sudden pleasure in the idea of Albert having this piece of him close at all times.

“Thank you, Sy,” Albert sighed, then tended to his nose, which was a deep shade of angry pink and looked thoroughly tender and irritated.

“Ndow, where is this balm you were talking about earlier?”

Silas handed the small container to his friend, smiling as Albert squinted to read the label. He had noticed that Albert usually needed his reading glasses when confronted with smaller writing.

“What do you say, Bertie? Shall we try to find out if this balm really can do wonders for your cold?”

Albert nodded, handing the container back to Silas, seemingly too exhausted to try and read the small, intricate writing.

Since they were alone and he was about to take care of his poor Bertie, Silas shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over the back of a nearby chair. Standing only in his shirt and waistcoat, he rolled up his sleeves, then approached Albert with the confident smile of a world-renowned physician about to perform his best healing procedure.

“Alright, Bertie, let us begin. Ah, but I presume I would have to come a bit closer for this to work, wouldn't I?,” Silas mused with a sly grin, then came over and sat on top of Albert, straddling him once more just like he had the previous evening in his carriage. Albert chuckled, amused by this replication of yesterday's events.

“Now Bertie, that's much better, isn't it?” Silas asked, echoing the question he had asked Albert right after straddling him the previous evening.

“Mbuch better,” Albert replied grinning, happy to provide yesterday's line for their little game of re-enactment. He was too tired to grab and squeeze Silas' buttocks today, though. Instead, he held on weakly to Silas' hips, his fingers digging into the fabric of his fine trousers.

Silas proceeded to carefully peel Albert's chest out of the many layers of fabric protecting it against the chill.

At first, he pushed back the blanket to reveal Albert's dressing gown. In order to slip under it, Silas had to loosen the belt which held the dressing gown in place. This led to much squirming and giggling, as Silas' hand dived deep to reach the dressing gown's belt and to undo the knot, swift fingers moving indecently close to Albert's most private parts.

“Ah! Dod't tease mbe, Sy, I regrettably feel too weak for such shenanigans today,” Albert protested with an adorable pout. Apparently, he was just as dejected as Silas that this cold had taken so much out of him.

“My apologies, Sir Albert, I will keep my hands thoroughly in check from now on~”

Albert chuckled, but had to turn his head to the side to cough into the pillow that supported him. Silas was jolted around with every cough, and his heart went out to his poor Albert, who was left to breathe heavily for a few moments in the wake of his coughing fit.

“Perhaps this isn't such a good idea, Bertie. I should probably not be sitting on top of you..,” Silas began, his leg already twitching as if to get up, but Albert caught Silas' hand and led it back to the lapels of his dressing gown.

“Ndo, dod't stop on mby account, Sy. Please continue. I am quite curious to see what this wondrous balm will accomplish and you cad't expect a sick, ailing man like mbe to undress himself...”

Albert looked up at him with the most delicious little pout, and Silas could not help himself, but leaned in for a tender kiss.

“Alright then...,” he mumbled against Albert's lips, smiling into him before he sat back up. “... where were we? Oh yes, right... these buttons can't stay closed..”

Nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons on Albert's night attire, revealing his bare chest. Albert shivered slightly, but looked more than pleased to be so exposed in front of Silas.

“Mhm.. there we go.. Now, before we can proceed, I need to make a good, thorough inspection of your chest...”

“You do~?,” Albert asked, his voice a delighted little squeal.

“Oh yes, Bertie. Very thorough~”

Silas dived in to conduct his "inspection", peppering Albert's chest with soft kisses, nibbling, licking, and sucking at the pale, milky skin, humming in delight and thoroughly enjoying Albert's softness on his tongue and lips.

Meanwhile, Albert melted into the chaise-lounge, biting his fist to prevent himself from making indecently loud noises and kicking his feet as Silas' tongue took care of an especially sensitive spot.

“Oh, Sy... hmm... oh wait!.. I... I have thhho... eehhh.....Hhhheehh'ESShhsttTSHHU!! HessSSHHU!! EtttSSHHusshh! Oh mby goodness, pardon mbe!”

Albert had sneezed without much warning. Silas had kept his head down, so the sneezes had mostly gone right over his shoulder, but he had felt the urgent panting of Albert's chest as well as the shuddering release. And good heavens had it felt exciting!

“Bless you,” he purred into Albert's neck, nibbling and kissing the warm skin there for good measure. Albert's hands clawed at his back with newfound strength, keeping him close until Silas had kissed that one spot right behind Albert's ear he loved so much to be kissed and sucked at.

As expected, Albert made one of his adorable little sounds of pleasure, and Silas sat up again, feeling thoroughly accomplished now that he had brought Albert to make his little noise.

While Albert composed himself, panting and snuffling, Silas licked his lips as if he had just enjoyed a very fine glass of brandy, then smoothing a strand of his dark hair back in its place.

“I dare say my inspection is complete, Bertie, and I found nothing amiss.”

Albert grinned up at him, all flushed cheeks and runny nose, but with that warm, cheeky glint in his eyes Silas loved so much.

“I'b glad to hear it, Sy.”

“Time to see what this wondrous balm can do...”

Grabbing the little container, Silas opened it, then sniffled tentatively at the smooth substance in it. It smelled of herbs and essential oils, quite potent, but pleasant. Satisfied with its scent, Silas dipped his finger into the balm, taking up a dollop of the mixture, which he then carefully transferred to Albert's chest. Starting from the middle, he rubbed the balm in in small circles, covering the left side of Albert's chest first before he moved on to the right.

“How's that, Bertie?”

Albert shivered.

“A tad cold, but not unpleasant. Ah, but I do believe the scent of it mbakes mbe.. hehh Heh'ERRSSHHU!!! ssniff sndeeze.”

Albert sneezed thrice more until his nose was accustomed to the scent, his body bobbing under Silas from the force of it. He mainly caught the sneezes in the handkerchief, but a few droplets grazed Silas' neck and shoulder.

Silas kept administering these soft touches for some time, taking up another small dollop of the mixture to ensure that Albert's chest was thoroughly covered. And since Albert seemed to enjoy the touch, Silas kept running his hands in circles over Albert's chest long after the balm had been applied.

At one point, though, Albert's chest seemed to get cold, so Silas cleaned the remaining balm off his hands and set out to bundle his Bertie back up again.

“Now, Bertie, that was quite enough fun and games for today. You are sick, after all and should be resting,” Silas said in his best mock-stern voice. Albert answered with his most demure look, before he had to cough again. The sound was deep and rich and set Silas to worry once again.

“See, Bertie, that is exactly what I am on about...”

Albert wheezed, undeniably exhausted at this point.

“Perhaps you are right, Sy. This has been quite the excitembent already... Hehh'ESShhTttsshh!” He quickly brought Silas' handkerchief to his nose to sneeze into it, then sank back into his pillows with a sigh, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead.

Silas made sure that all the buttons on Albert's top were closed, before he neatly folded his dressing gown closed over Albert's chest, wrapping him in like a precious gift. Finally, he pulled the blanket up until right under Albert's chin.

“Ah, Sy, stop, that is quite enough! I will ndeed a bit of space to breathe.”

“Sorry, Bertie, I just wanted to make sure that you are warm enough.”

Just like the night before, Silas took Albert's face in his hands, examining it. The dark circles under Albert's eyes were edged even deeper into the fair skin, and Albert's nose was tinged an angry shade of deep pink, bordering on red. His eyes looked tired, yet content, but he was all in all a miserable sight.

“Promise you'll rest until I return to call on you tomorrow?,” Silas asked, soft eyes searching Albert's gaze.

“I promise,” Albert whispered, and Silas kissed him once again as a long, tender goodbye.

[suddencolds]

Who are your favorite artists/writers in the community?

THIS IS SO HARD, anon 😭 (but it's a question I'm curious about others' answers to too!) I have some time before work, so I'll attempt to answer somewhat coherently:

i've always admired @hachiibun, in particular for his ability to draw such a variety of poses and pre snz expressions (his somewhat recent post of h/sr snzcanons comes to mind)!! i'm continually amazed by the way he's able to capture nuances in characterization through the little visual details he chooses to highlight. i think he particularly excels at capturing like, the misery/harshness of a snz, and the all-consuming ticklishness of the build-up 😭

@mochindayo has super lovely ocs! i look forward to seeing their snz art and non-snz art alike. i love the way they draw hair in particular—it looks sooo soft and fluffy and i can tell there's a lot of care put into arranging the strands. the characters they draw genuinely look so pretty (even ruined with a cold or allergies, there's always something beautiful to them)??

i need to mention @6pmsoup bc their sketches literally always eat!! i feel like they always have such a tasteful way of like narrowing down which elements to give more dimension/detail/shading to. their art looks simultaneously so clean and engaging 😭 (cheating a bit here and i hope it's okay to say this, but i am also continually impressed by their musical ear and their compositional ability)

i really love @whiskey-tango-matcha's ocs so, so much! she has such an impressive handle on character voices and humor; when i read her fics, i really love how easy it is to get lost in the conversational flow. in particular, elijah and greyson have a super fun dynamic of like, simultaneous prickliness and concern?? it's not something i see a lot, but i feel like i could never get tired of the way they play off of each other 😭

one of the first snzfics i read which like blew me away was actually something @ithadtobesneezing posted to ao3 (i am embarrassed to say how long ago, haha). she has a very good handle on emotional depth 😭 like i feel like she writes with a certain clarity of character; her works carry like this sort of emotional intimacy and sensitivity to them, which always stands out

recently i have been head over heels in love w @vllergy's oc series. i honestly cannot remember the last time i fell for two characters so quickly 🥹 jin and vesen and their dynamic set me on fire; i have not enough words to describe how fun it is to read from jin's headspace. his character voice really shines through in the narration (and some of it is really funny too???); seriously check it out if you haven't already!

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Thanks (m, cold)

Hi guys, thank you again for voting on which scenario you wanted to see for this fic! It's a bit of a slow burn, and idk how I feel about the ending, but Elijah is staunchly miserable by the end so hopefully that makes y'all happy 😅 let me know if you like it 🫶

Ps I've been writing this for literally the past 12 hours so I cannot look at it anymore, I'll read it over and edit errors in the morning but I need to get it out before it drives me insane lmao. 5.5k words under the cut :)

CW: male snz, colds, coughing, fever, contagion

There was nothing quite as depressing, Elijah decided, as the days leading up to Thanksgiving dinner service in a restaurant. Well, unless you were Greyson.

“Goooood morning, boss! Two days til the Big Day; are you pumped?”

Elijah turned his chair slowly towards the door, where the chef stood grinning unironically. He thought, not for the first time, that Greyson was likely some sort of dog in a past life – a golden retriever, or possibly a lab. One of those ‘no thoughts, just vibes’ dogs.

“Am I pumped?” Elijah asked, glaring at Greyson. “For a day that should be spent drinking shitty beer and eating my weight in carbs spent instead putting on a fake smile for people who don’t even think of us as human? For people who go out to eat literally once a year, and make sure they do it on a holiday so they can feel powerful by forcing a restaurant to serve them, then complain about the price and stiff my servers? Am I pumped to barely break even, even though the restaurant will be packed from ten am until close, because those same people staunchly refuse to pay more than eighty bucks a head to stuff themselves silly? Am I pumped to listen to my staff complain all day, despite the fact that when each of them was hired, they were told in no uncertain terms that they would be working holidays?” Elijah clicked his pen closed loudly, stood to let Greyson through, and sat with him in tandem, his face set in anger the whole time. “No, Grey. I am not, in fact, pumped.”

Greyson broke their eye contact to wake his computer, the lecture obviously unexpected. “Clearly I should’ve read the room before opening my mouth,” he said, glancing back over at his boss briefly. “My bad, boss.”

Elijah, embarrassed that he’d let himself sink into such a state about something as stupid as a holiday service, pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Fuck. Sorry, Grey. You just caught me at a bad moment. I had two servers call out for today, I’m fuckin’ sweating because we really need everyone here for Thursday and neither of them are sure they’ll be good to come back in two days.”

“Hmm,” Greyson hummed, his eyebrows threading together. “That’s weird. I had Victor and Elise call out on my way in.”

Elijah felt his heart thump in his temple. “Did they say why?”

“I didn’t ask,” Greyson said, turning his chair to face his boss. “But I guess I should’ve. Did the servers say why they couldn’t come in?”

“Some sort of fever-cold thing, is what Jason said he had. Ashley just said she felt like shit.” Elijah pressed his fingers into his eye and sighed. “I need a cigarette. Care to join?”

Greyson, never one to turn down nicotine in any form, stood from his chair. “Thought you’d never ask,” he said.

The two of them walked through the empty kitchen in silence, Elijah entirely too wrapped in his own thoughts to continue their conversation. There was an ongoing joke, a trope, at this point, about holidays in the restaurant; everyone was always sick for them. Last Easter, the servers all had bronchitis, and a couple of Valentine’s days ago, Greyson had so many cooks call out with the stomach flu that they’d had to hire last-minute temps to fill in on the line. Despite doing nearly 300 covers, they barely made enough to cover the immense labor that seven temps on a holiday cost.

“Lij,” Greyson said as the two of them stepped out the back door and sat on the milk crates littering the loading dock, “it’s not going to be like Valentine’s. I can see your fuckin’ gears turning.” The chef pulled a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, handed his boss one, and lit them both up. “Relax.”

Silence, once again, fell upon them as they smoked and watched fat snowflakes disintegrate on the asphalt. Elijah hoped that Greyson was right, that everything would be fine and he was overreacting – but he knew better than to hope. More likely than not, it was going to be what it always was on holidays: a shit show.

Matt and Mark, hand-in-hand until they spotted their bosses by the door, turned the corner and waved to their counterparts in tandem like well-trained circus animals. Elijah couldn’t help but smile as their fingers unwove from one another.

“Morning,” Elijah called, stubbing out his cigarette. Greyson did the same, and the two of them stood to let the younger men into the building.

“Aren’t you freezing?” Mark asked rubbing his hands together as he pushed the door open. Elijah shrugged as he held the door open for the other two and walked in behind them.

“My rage keeps me warm,” he said, prompting a laugh from Greyson and an eye roll from the younger men. “How’re you guys?”

Mark shot a look at Matt as they all walked towards the office at the front of the kitchen. “I’m well,” he said, pointedly. Elijah nearly stopped in his tracks when he glimpsed Matt glaring at his boyfriend.

“Matt…?” Greyson asked, an attempt at giving his sous chef a get-out-of-jail-free card. There was silence as the three of them turned, expectantly, towards Matt.

“I’mb good,” the sous said, his voice cracking on the second syllable. Elijah audibly groaned, Mark winced, and Greyson bit his cheek to keep from laughing at the absurdity.

“Well, you certainly sound great,” Greyson said, palming Matt’s shoulder aggressively. “Would you like to go home and sleep that off?”

“Yes, he -”

“Ndo,” Matt said, cutting Mark off and shooting him a look. “I wandt to help prep.I’mb – hh! hh’NGTSH-uh!” Matt turned and pulled his coat up over the bottom half of his face to sneeze, then quickly gathered himself and stood up straight. “I’mb fine,” he said, convincing no one.

Elijah closed his eyes briefly and sighed through his nose; fortunately or unfortunately, he knew exactly why Matt hadn’t called off.

The week prior, Elijah and Greyson had dolled out raises and bonuses for the staff; this year was Matt’s fifth as sous chef. Greyson had basically written a dissertation of why his sous chef should be given a new title – Executive Sous – along with a significant raise and bonus. It hadn’t taken much convincing; Elijah knew exactly how hard Matt worked, and staying at the same restaurant as a sous chef for five years was nearly unheard of in this city, especially for someone as young as Matt. He and Greyson had agreed that Matt’s loyalty to the restaurant deserved to be compensated, and had surprised him before his day off with the new title and pay.

Matt had been surprised – shocked was probably a better word for it, honestly – and had confided in Elijah after Greyson had dipped early to meet up with a date that he felt like he didn’t deserve the raise.

“You do,” Elijah had said, laughing lightly. “We wouldn’t have given it to you if you didn’t deserve it.”

The younger man had shaken his head. “I just… I mean, Greyson is here way more than me. I get two days off mostly, and he doesn’t let me work longer than ten hours. And I love it here, you guys don’t need to, like, worry about me leaving if that’s what this is about.”

Elijah had given Matt a confused look. “Greyson should be here more than you, first of all he’s a partner, not just the chef, and secondly, he gets paid very well to be here eighty hours a week. That’s his choosing. You’re his employee – if you were here as much as he was and getting paid significantly less, that wouldn’t be fair. And we’re glad you love it here, but that’s not why we gave you the raise. We gave it to you because you’re a hard worker, and you deserve to be compensated for what you do.” Elijah had smiled at Matt, patted his knee, and finished with, “Don’t sell yourself short.”

Matt had just smiled back and nodded, but Elijah knew he hadn’t changed his mind about ‘being undeserving’. Elijah knew, via background checks that were performed by his off-site HR company, and via Mark being a blabbermouth the second he got a glass of wine in him, that Matt had been a bit of a troubled kid; he’d been bounced from one foster home to another as a kid, and then one juvenile detention hall to another as a teenager. Only when he’d dropped out of high school and gotten a job as a dishwasher at a Denny’s did he finally decide it was time to shape up. He’d worked his way into the diner’s kitchen, then a slightly nicer kitchen, and when he was 20, he’d shown up at the front door of Elliot’s in an ill-fitting suit with a speech about how he was ready to work somewhere that he could hone his passion, even if they couldn’t pay him a dime. Greyson had hired him on the spot, not even consulting Elijah, despite only having been the executive chef for a few months.

Elijah knew Matt felt that he owed Greyson, not the other way around, and this promotion and raise was the nail in that coffin of doubt. He knew there was no way Matt would go home, no matter how shitty he felt.

Greyson just shrugged at his sous chef’s denial of being sick. “If you want to stay, I’m not going to make you leave,” he said, walking into the office and changing from his sweatshirt into his chef’s coat. “Just don’t sneeze on the food.”

Matt rolled his eyes and stripped off his jacket to put his own chef’s coat on. “Yes, Chef,” he said, coughing into his elbow. Mark and Elijah exchanged sidelong looks.

“Are you feeling okay?” Elijah asked his junior manager. Mark smirked, hiked his laptop bag further onto his shoulder, and started towards the dining room – his makeshift office.

“Never better, boss,” he said, pushing through the swinging doors. “Never better.”

***

“So, is he coming in tomorrow?”

Greyson lolled his head to the side, hands still on his keyboard, and deadpanned Elijah. “The fuck do you think?”

Elijah pulled a hand down his face and nodded. “Yeah, okay, just wanted to check.”

While Matt had been relatively fine the first few hours of the shift, by the time the last guests had eaten, the sous had been so staunchly miserable that Greyson had marched his ass into the office, thrown his jacket over his shoulders, and pointed towards the back door. “Go. Home. Now.”

“Chef, I – HTSHH! Hh-! GTSH-uh!” Matt wrenched to the side, collapsing into a post-sneeze coughing fit that made the cooks flinch from five yards away.

“You’re not fine,” Greyson insisted. “You’re sick, and you’re going to get everyone else sick.”

Matt nodded, miserable, and hung his head. “Sorry, Chef,” he muttered, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his jacket.

“Go,” Greyson said. “And come back when you’re well.”

Mark had taken Matt home in an Uber, and the cooks and servers had been able to leave relatively early, which left Elijah, Greyson, and a bottle of whiskey between them on the desk to figure out how they were going to handle the rest of the week.

Greyson sighed and reached for the bottle as he pushed away from his computer screen. He took a long pull and handed the bottle to Elijah, who followed suit. “I just… I don’t understand why he’d come in that sick,” Greyson said, pulling his hair to the top of his head and securing it with a rubber band from their drawer of office supplies. Elijah had to pull the bottle away from his lips to laugh. “What?” Greyson asked.

“You, of all people, can’t understand why he came in sick?” Elijah asked, incredulous. “You?”

“What do you mean me?” Greyson asked, snatching the bottle back. “If anything, he learned it from watching you.”

“Oh, spare me, Greyson,” Elijah rolled his eyes. “For awhile there, you literally came in sick three weeks a month.”

Greyson scoffed. “At least I’ve never passed out on the kitchen floor.”

“Yes, you have.”

“No, I almost passed out. You actually fuckin’ swooned. Collapsed in a puddle. Full damsel in distress.” Greyson took another pull and placed the bottle back on the desk. “So don’t come for me unless I send for you.”

Elijah guffawed at this. “Who taught you that saying?” he asked. Greyson shrugged.

“I heard one of the servers using it. I like it.”

“The servers are twenty years old, you dinosaur. The last thing they want is Grandpa Greyson using their jargon.”

“Fuck off, if anyone here is a grandpa it’s…” Greyson stopped suddenly, held up a finger, let his eyes flutter shut, then let out a shaky breath. “Fuck, that’s annoying.” He rubbed his nose on the back of his hand, then raised an eyebrow at his boss, whose face had drawn into concern. “What?”

“What was that?” Elijah asked, glancing over at the bottle of whiskey they’d spent the past hour sharing.

“I just thought I was going to – oh,” Greyson’s eyes widened. “No, dude, relax, I’m totally fine. I feel great.”

“‘Buzzed’ and ‘great’ are two different things, Grey,” Elijah said. He reached up to feel Greyson’s forehead, prompting the chef to lean back in his chair.

“Great as in healthy,” he insisted, shooing Elijah’s hand away. “Seriously, I’d let you know if I – HRRTSHHH-ue!” He caught the sneeze in his elbow – barely – and choked back an irritated cough. From the crook of his arm, he heard Elijah swear.

“I’m going to end your fuckin’ life, I swear to God,” Elijah muttered, pushing the bottle further onto Greyson’s side of the desk. “You let me drink from the same bottle as you, you dick.”

“I’m fine, Elijah, Christ it was one sneee – hh! - hh…” Greyson tipped his head back in anticipation, then lowered and shook it when the feeling once again dissipated. “See? Totally fine.” He sniffled – convincing, Grey – and immediately changed course. “Plus, it’s alcohol. It’s an antiseptic.”

“It one million percent is not,” Elijah said, rubbing his temples in defeat. “Greyson, you cannot be sick. We cannot be sick. How the hell are we going to be able to run Thanksgiving?”

“Elijah,” Greyson said, “listen. I am fine. Everything is going to be just fi – ITSHH-ue!” Greyson pitched forward into his palm and cringed. Elijah, begrudgingly, slammed the box of tissues they kept on a side table in front of the chef.

“Bless you,” he said while Greyson cleaned himself up. “And, I mean this from the bottom of my heart: fuck. You.”

***

“Hhh-! Huh… hnnn.”

“Bless you.”

“Oh, screw you, Lij,” Greyson muttered for the millionth time that day. He grabbed what felt like his hundredth tissue and blew his nose – only for the feeling to reignite. “Huhhh! Hhh...hh… guhh.” Greyson rubbed his nose again and angrily spiked the tissue into the trash can beneath his prep station.

“Bless you,” Elijah said again, mocking.

“You kndow,” Greyson said, turning towards his boss, who was seated in the office, not looking Greyson’s way. “Karma is going to combe for you for being an asshole to mbe.”

At this, Elijah glanced towards Greyson. “Karma? No, karma is having a cold and not being able to sneeze because you let your friend drink out of the same bottle as you when you knew you were getting sick. That’s karma, and you got what was coming to you.”

“Fuuhhh! Huh! Hh...fuck,” Greyson grumbled, coughing into his shoulder.

“Karma is also giving your sous chef a lecture about being sick at work, only to be get sick and have to come into work because you’re technically the most well of all the sick cooks and chefs.”

“Are you finished?” Greyson asked, throwing his hands in the air. “I get it. And to be fair, I did ndot kndow I was getting sick.” The chef sucked in painfully through his nose and collapsed into coughs once again.

“Mmhmm,” Elijah mumbled. When it seemed like Greyson wasn’t going to be able to stop the coughing, he took pity and got up to make the chef tea.

“Here,” Elijah said, slamming a paper cup in front of Greyson. “Drink it. Sickie.”

Greyson, unable to come up with a proper comeback, just did as he was told. “How mbany on the books tonight?” he croaked. Elijah sighed, pulled up his phone, and slid it towards Greyson. “Fuck,” Greyson said when he saw the number.

“All the people in the city who aren’t coming in tomorrow decided tonight was the night, apparently,” Elijah said, taking his phone back and putting it in his pocket. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked, in earnest.

Greyson nodded. “It’s ndot too bad,” he said, taking another sip of tea. “Just wish I could fuckigg sndeeze.”

Elijah huffed out a laugh. “You’re sure you don’t want to call Matt in?”

“Definitely no – hh! Huh...hhhITSHHHZUE! Oh thank fuckigg God – HUHHESTCH-ue! Hh! Hnn...HuhhhETSCHH-ue! HTSSHH-ue!”

Elijah whistled, long and low, and pushed the box of tissues towards Greyson. “Wow,” he said. “Bless.”

Greyson rolled his eyes as he took a handful of tissues and cleaned himself up. “See?” he said once he’d thrown them away and washed his hands, “Good as new. HTSSHH-ue!”

Elijah chuckled. “Sure, Chef,” he said, moving towards the doors to the dining room. “Whatever you say.”

***

In his thirty-nine years on earth, Elijah had learned a lot about himself. He’d learned that he was a hothead, and he had to really think about the repercussions of what was going to come out of his mouth if he wanted to keep the person he was talking to in his life. He’d learned that he was incapable of whistling, juggling, or any other party trick – but he could pull out a fantastic rendition of Queen’s Somebody to Love during karaoke, and that was enough to make him seem like he was fun at parties. He’d learned that he loved to have his own space, and should he ever find a partner, he knew they’d have to have separate bedrooms. And he had learned exactly what it felt like when he was getting sick.

Like… really sick.

When Greyson said things like, “I didn’t know I was getting sick,” it truly did not register to Elijah. Maybe it was because Greyson’s illnesses always seemed to be some sort of mixed bag – starting differently every time, with symptoms that varied wildly – or maybe it was because he just didn’t tune in to how he was feeling. Greyson always said he basically tried to ignore his body until it forced him to pay attention; maybe that was something that Elijah needed to attempt. Because Elijah… Elijah knew exactly when and how badly he was getting sick every single time.

It had started that afternoon, mere hours after he’d given Greyson shit about exposing him to this illness, the way it always did – with the type of sore throat that made you feel weak in your knees. Elijah had swallowed, then immediately felt dizzy with the pain that surged in his throat. Oh, he thought, touching his neck. Oh, no.

He was, of course, a creature of habit and attempted all his usual ways to quell the pain – cups of tea hidden in paper sleeves, lozenges he hoped Greyson was too stuffed up to smell on his breath, handfuls of ibuprofen – to no avail. By the time dinner service came around he could hear the rasp in his voice and, despite the ibuprofen, could feel the ache in his joints that meant he’d already made it to stage two; fever.

This was how he knew he was going to be down badly. If he could ride the sore throat past the fever and straight into congestion, he might be able to get away with just a normal cold. But if that fever set in before any other symptoms, it was all over.

“Yo,” Greyson said, approaching his boss post pre-shift. “Cand we quickly talk about the semantics of tomborrow’s buffet before people get here?”

Elijah lifted his heavy head from his pre-shift notes and blinked in Greyson’s direction. “Okay,” he said, brilliantly. Greyson’s eyebrows knit together, concerned.

“You good?” he asked, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. Elijah nodded slowly – surely, if Greyson was able to push through this illness with such ease, he was just being a baby about it. He swallowed through the knives in his throat and nodded.

“Just a headache,” he said. “What do you want to talk through?”

“Just wanted to see how mbany cooks you think I should have on the buffehh....ETSZHCHH-ue!” Greyson directed a massive sneeze into his elbow, and Elijah’s head about exploded with pain.

“Christ,” Elijah muttered, pressing his palm into his eye. Greyson muffled a cough into his sleeve and shook his head to clear it.

“Fuck, ‘scuse mbe,” he said, looking back at his boss. “Umb. Did I get you or something?”

Something like that, Elijah thought as he shook his head. “No,” he said. “You’re just loud, and my head hurts.” He pulled out his phone, looked at the cover spread for the next day, and said, “Three cooks on the buffet. One for omelets, one for prime rib carving, one for dessert bar.” He looked up at Greyson for his confirmation. “What?” he asked.

“You just… look like you’re in pain,” Greyson said, carefully. “Did you take -?”

“Yes, I took ibuprofen,” Elijah cut him off. “Go make sure your guys are ready for tonight. Take a decongestant so they can understand you. I’ll be back there in a minute.”

Greyson pursed his lips, but didn’t argue. “Yes, sir,” he said, and left Elijah to brood.

By some stroke of luck, the third inevitable stage of Elijah’s illness didn’t hit him until after they’d finished service. He was checking the lead server’s station so she could go home, when suddenly it felt like a thousand bees collected in his sinuses.

“Yeah, looks good Riley, thanks, see you in the mo – IGTSHH-uhh! HSTSH-ue! HhhhINTSZH-ue!” Elijah wrenched to the side, the sneezes so sudden he barely had time to cover his mouth.

“Yikes,” Riley said, taking a step away from her boss. “Bless you.”

“Thanks,” Elijah muttered, pinching his nose to quell the itch.

“You pick up whatever has everyone else out this week?” she asked, taking off her apron. Elijah shook his head.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Have a good night.”

With all the servers gone, Elijah slunk back into the kitchen and sunk into his office chair, his head in his hands. He was not prepared to do a whole holiday service feeling like this. This was nightmarish, and he’d only felt sick for nine hours. Tomorrow? Tomorrow was going to be -

“Hey, bless you,” Elijah sat up and turned around at the accusation to see Greyson standing at the office door with his arms crossed. “Could’ve heard those from fuckin’ space.”

Elijah rolled his eyes, painfully. “Whatever,” he said, powering his computer up to finish the night’s paperwork. “You’re one to talk, I don’t think you’ve gone three seconds without -”

“HRRSHH-oo!” Greyson cut him off with a comically-timed sneeze directed into the collar of his shirt.

“-that,” Elijah finished.

Greyson grabbed a tissue and wiped his nose. “Yeah, but it’s been well-established that I have a cold. I was under the impression that you were still -”

“HTSHH! HRSHH! Huh-! HuhhESTZHH-ue!” Elijah once again collapsed in on himself, head both buzzing and pounding, the explosive sneezes grating the back of his throat.

“- well,” Greyson finished, and moved into the office to sit by his boss. Just as Elijah looked up from his lap, Greyson slapped a hand on his forehead.

“Enough,” Elijah said, pushing Greyson’s palm off. Greyson put both his palms on his knees and gave Elijah a knowing look.

“So, you’ve been sick all day, or…?”

“Greyson,” Elijah said, clearing his throat, “I’m fine.”

“You have a fever, Lij. Like, a pretty significant one.”

He knew, and he had known, but the words made Elijah’s eyes well and his throat close all the same. God, he hated having a fucking fever and all the stupid, ridiculous emotions that went along with it. Elijah took a breath, closed his eyes to collect himself, and addressed the chef.

“I’m not feeling 100%,” he said. “But I will be fine. You are sick – if I’m not 100%, then you must be at like 10% at this point.”

“I don’t have a fever,” Greyson pointed out, taking Elijah’s hand and placing it on his cool head. “See?”

Elijah bit his cheek to keep from snapping. “Alright,” he said. “Whatever. Still, you need to go home; it’s a big day tomorrow.”

“I will when you do,” Greyson said, shrugging. Elijah, completely spent, and done arguing, just turned off his computer – paperwork be damned for the night.

“Fine,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender. “Let’s call it a night.”

Greyson, clearly confused, just raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Alright boss,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “See you tomorrow.”

***

If there was one thing Greyson knew about Elijah, it was this: if you wanted him to admit defeat, you had to corner him.

When he woke up at oh-dark-thirty that morning, Greyson felt lucky that he was no worse for the wear then he was the night before. Was he stuffed-up to the gills? Yes. Did he have an incessant, grating cough? Yeah. But ultimately, it was a cold, and he’d work through far worse many more times.

So, despite the fact that it was still dark out, Greyson donned his hoodie and set out for the restaurant. On the way to the early-morning subway, he called Matt.

“...Hello?” Matt answered on the third ring. “Chef?”

“Mbornin’ sunshine,” Greyson said, coughing into the receiver. “How’re you feeling?”

“Uh…” Matt said, attempting to gather his bearings. “Better. Am I supposed to be at the restaurant now? I thought I was scheduled at eight.” Greyson heard him push back a blanket and plant his feet on the floor. “You sound like shit, by the way. Sorry about that.”

“Inevitable,” Greyson said, a brush-off. “And you aren’t scheduled til eight, but I have sombe very important, pre-work, Executive Sous shit I ndeed your help with.”

“Sure, boss,” Matt said, and Greyson could hear him changing clothes, using mouthwash, and whispering goodbye to Mark. “Anything you need.”

“Good man,” Greyson said, pausing at the top of the subway steps. “Could you pick up cough drops, Mucinex, and a hot water bottle, if you see one? Oh, and a real blanket. I’ll Venmo you some mboney.”

“Uh, sure, boss. Is this… for you?”

“Not for me,” Greyson said, coughing into his sleeve. “For Elijah. He’s down bad.”

“Oh. Oh, shit,” Matt said. “Yeah, okay, for sure boss. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks, mban. Hey, I’mb about to head down to the subway, text mbe if you have any – hh! HTSHH-ue! Fuck, sorry,” Greyson wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “Mbaybe grab more tissues while you’re there,” he amended.

“Sure, Chef. Bless.”

“You’re the best, Mbatt. Always knew you’d make a perfect number two.”

Greyson could hear the eye roll through the phone. “Don’t get sappy, old man,” Matt said. “See you soon.”

***

To say Elijah felt like shit would’ve been the understatement of the century.

When he woke up that morning, Elijah was fairly sure he was dying. The fever he’d crawled into bed with hadn’t budged, his sinuses were packed, and he’d officially acquired the final gem on his sick-as-fuck gauntlet: the cough. This day was going to be absolute hell.

Elijah did his level best to get ready for the busy service; he managed to take about half a shower before he had to sit down, dizzy from exertion; he’d gotten one contact in before sneezing so hard he almost poked his eye out and settled on glasses; he’d even found the strength to put on a pair of pants, though a button down was entirely too much for his shaking hands, so he settled on a cardigan that looked passable enough. God he hoped the servers – and Mark – would be able to hold down the fort out front, because this was nothing short of tragic.

Unwilling to deal with the subway and unable to drive safely in this state, Elijah settled on calling an Uber to work. It was early, a little before eight, but he knew if he didn’t get there now, he’d never make it.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” the driver said, leaving Elijah to immediately regret his decision not to drive. “Pretty early to be up and at ‘em. You heading to see family?”

Elijah cleared his throat as best he could before begrudgingly responding to the driver. “Ndot quite,” he said, his voice strained and congested. “Worki – HGSTHH-ue! HRSSH! ETSZCH-uh!” Elijah attempted to hold back the sneezes, unsuccessfully. Sans any tissues, he wiped his nose on his sweater sleeve. “Excuse mbe, sorry.”

“Working and sick on a holiday?” the driver said, shaking his head. “That’s rough, man. Bless you.”

Elijah’s face flamed, but he was in no state to deny. “Yeah,” he said instead. “Thangks.”

The rest of the drive was in blessed silence, and Elijah made sure to tip the guy extra for being exposed to whatever plague he was walking around with. When he finally pushed through the back door of the restaurant, Elijah felt like he’d already lived a lifetime today; he really wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to take.

“Elijah!” Greyson’s voice reached him before Elijah could even see his face. “Happy Thanksgiving, you sick old fuck!”

Elijah turned the corner and almost burst into tears – there stood Greyson, his face pale and nose bright red, and Matt and Mark looking no better, outside of his office; his office that had been, essentially, turned into a cozy-looking bedroom.

There were blankets on the floor, the chairs removed, and medicine on the desk. The harsh office light had been shut off, and instead one of the lamps from the host stand glowed gently from behind the computer. And, perhaps most heart-rendering, in Greyson’s hand was a bowl of steaming soup, and in Matt’s, a cup of tea.

“I know you hate working the holidays, and feeling like shit is just insult to injury,” Greyson said, setting down the bowl so he could guide Elijah into the office. “So we thought we’d mbake it just a little less shitty.”

Elijah allowed himself to be lead in, unable to find the words to thank his friend. He turned into his elbow to cough, a welcome respite from the tears he could feel threatening to spill over. “Grey,” he said when he’d gathered himself. “I… this is so… you guys…” he swallowed around the lump in his throat and shook his head. “I don’t kndow what to say,” he said, looking up at Greyson. “Thangk you.”

“Ah, save it,” Greyson said, placing a hand on his friend’s back. “You’re always looking after us. Call it our Thanksgiving to you.”

Elijah smiled a little, punched Greyson’s arm lightly, and allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. Heading to see family? the Uber driver had asked him. Maybe he had been, after all.

[thekinkyleopard]

Funny Til it’s Not

A Kanai and Alistar SicFic

⚠️Content Warning⚠️

Snz Fic, Sick Fic, Failed Caretaking, smut,

snzfcking

Description: For once, Al is sick, and it’s anything but desirable. Kanai is left alone to foot the bill of taking care of him. Can he help soothe the ailing Anti-Christ?

Authors Notes: As promised 🫡 this fic was brought to you by @aller-geez depraved requests. She did the art and owns Kanai! Enjoy a fic that didn’t take me 2 months to complete! LOL

Draeko gathered his keys, and everything else he needed on his way out, scrambling quickly. “Okay, Kanai, just remember the list is on the counter of things I need done today…and I’ll be out for most of the day…” he looked around with curious mint and grey colored eyes. “Wait..Al isnt awake yet?” The navy haired man shrugged looking at Draeko with an almost tired, resolve. “Well, make sure you wake him up to help you with the chores, this place is a mess and it would really mean a lot if it was taken care of before I got back,” The hybrid tried to be sweet about his words, not wanting to come off too critical or harsh. However, the two men in particular weren’t the cleanliest of roommates.

Its not really on the demon to do list ‘Scrub bathroom floors’ and ‘Dust all the shelves’ sure they GENERALLY kept their things organized. Important things. It was exceptionally irritating to Draeko how clean Kanai always kept his room but doesn’t compute taking out the trash in the kitchen. “I understand, these things will be completed to your standard, Luciftias,” the mutt smiled sweetly upward at the hound, lifting on his toes to kiss him on the cheek. Kanai nodded gently as a response to the affections.

“See you later!” and out the door he went. Leaving the navy haired man to himself and, apparently, a lazy house mate. Kanai took a deep breath in and exhaled, it wasn’t like Al to still be in bed so he wasn’t sure what the demon had gotten into over the night. Slowly he approached the red head’s bedroom door and knocked with a cautious but confident hand. “Donnie?” he asked gently, without a response in return. He narrowed his thin brows and tried once more. “Donnie?” He spoke a bit louder this time, but nothing became of it. “Hm..” he contemplated out loud to himself, before simply pushing the door open and taking a step inside. “Alistar,” he said more sternly now, glaring at the sleeping blob wrapped under a fort of blankets.

“Hnnn…” A tortured groan escaped from under the material. “g-Go …aw…ay…AHH’EEHGGSHH’IUE!” with the sudden outburst that took them both by surprise, it started to become insanely clear to Kanai now. Alistar was sick. Kanai stood frozen in the doorway, uncertainty creeping into his mind like tendrils of mist. Alistar's thrashing figure beneath the blankets seemed foreign, a stark contrast to the usual boisterous demon he knew. He took a hesitant step forward, his heart pounding with a mixture of concern and helplessness.

"Are you okay?" Kanai finally mustered the courage to speak, his voice soft and filled with worry if it wasn’t so monotoned.

Alistar's response was immediate, cutting through the air like a jagged blade. "Obviously not! I feel like diarrhea dog shit, eaten by another dog, shat out again, and then angrily hosed down by the mean old man that owns the house," his words were laced with frustration, punctuated by a fit of coughing that racked his frame, his voice hoarse and strained.

The navy-haired man recoiled slightly at Alistar's outburst, unsure of how to proceed. He watched as the demon curled into himself, his breaths ragged and shallow. Kanai's concern deepened at the sight of Alistar in such a vulnerable state, he would have to think back to the ways Draeko had cared for them. “Okay, Donnie can you come out from underneath the sleeping materials? I have to put my hand on your face,” He wasn’t exactly sure why, or what purpose this served when Draeko did it, but it was normally the first step in the process.

The grumbling, sick infested demon emerged from the depths of his comfy bed nest and squinted his blackened eyes when met with the sun light peering through his curtains. “Fuckin…..Uncle Christ..” he tried to shield it with his arm but the glare hit him in a place that he wasnt aware needed to be scratched. Right before he could block himself of the light, he sneezed loudly and openly into the space in front of him. “hHEH’TZSCHh’UE!” Kanai took a step back, narrowly avoiding the spray of demon spittle as Alistar sneezed. Suppressing a shudder, he hesitantly approached the sick demon, his hand hovering uncertainly over Alistar's forehead. The demon's greyish hued skin was clammy to the touch, his temperature clearly elevated. Kanai's worry intensified at the realization of why the touch was so important.

"Your skin is extremely hot," Kanai murmured, more to himself than to Alistar. He knew he had to take care of the Anti-Christ, just as Draeko would have done in his absence. Yet, he had so much to do already, and he didn’t really know how to be a comfort to the red head. He thought to himself for a second and then spoke out with an idea "Let me get you some water and medicine," Yeah thats usually what comes next in the repertoire, with that, Kanai hurried out of the room, leaving Alistar to wallow in his own misery. For once, he was not excited to be sick whatsoever, it was really coming down on him, the weight of his body felt like he was being sucked into quick sand despite having a rather firm mattress. His head throbbed with each heartbeat, his body aching with fevered chills. He let out a weak cough, the sound hollow and raspy in the empty room. The demon closed his eyes, trying to focus on breathing through the discomfort, but every inhale felt like fire in his chest.

As he lay there, time seemed to stretch endlessly, the silence broken only by his inconsistent, but intensive broken sinuses. “AHH’EEHGGSHH’IUE! hih’aESShh’ue!” he allowed his open mouth to spew another large cloud of varying spittle. Groaning inwardly after, sliding the back of his hand across his nose to be left with an almost iridescent trail behind his blackened dorsal aspect. “I wish I could enjoy this…SNDf” he snarfled loudly his blackened eyes staring blankly ahead while he sat and waited Kanai’s return. Who speaking of which, was having a semi-mild panic attack because he wasn’t sure WHAT medication to give his suffering friend.

“Headache? Flu? Allergies? What are all these? What do they do? What do I give him?” Kanai frantically scanned the assortment of medicine bottles in the bathroom cabinet, each label a confusing jumble of medical terms. He bit his lip in frustration, wishing he had paid more attention when Draeko had explained their purposes. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Kanai decided to scoop the entire stash and run it down the hall, back to his friend.

"I hope this helps," Kanai said slightly out of breath from the anxiety of it all, he dumped the contents of his arms onto the bed. Alistar blinked a few times, looking at the hoard of medications the hound had bestowed upon him.

“The fuck ones do I take? SndF..” the red head sniffled lightly trying to figure out what the words on the containers even meant. Picking up each one individually to get a better look.

“That part of the ritual is unclear, Donnie, I thought maybe you would know…” he reached back to scratch the nape of his neck nervously. Alistar let out an exasperated sigh, his hand rubbing his temples in a feeble attempt to alleviate the pounding headache that pulsed behind his eyes. The letters on the medication bottles seemed to blur together, mocking him with their indecipherable labels. With a frustrated huff, he tossed the bottles aside, resigned to his fate of suffering through the illness without the aid of modern medicine. “Fuck ALL this…I’ll just go back to sleep…” he grumbled angrily.

Kanai watched as Alistar's shoulders slumped in defeat, well that just wouldn’t do. What else? What else could he provide…he thought carefully looking around the demon’s messy room, he spotted a coffee mug sitting carelessly upon his night stand. Oh yeah! “Should I bring you some of Draeko’s leaf water? And perhaps a wet towel?” tilting his head as he looked over the other who had allowed his head to fall in his clammy hands.

“Sure…Nai…we can try that…SSDndFf…UGhhh…” he groaned again, it truly felt like he was on the verge of visiting dear ol’ dad again. The navy haired hound nodded with determination written clear across his face, he zipped his way into the kitchen rather quickly, trying to gather up the very supplies he had promised. He was struggling to remember exactly how the hybrid made the leaf beverage though. It was usually hot…”So then maybe…” with the only knowledge he had of obtaining hot water he turned on the kitchen sink, and waited a good few minutes whilst fishing around for the substance that made the base of the hot beverage. Unsure of what exactly he was looking for he saw a little dish of colorful flowers, leaves and various herb like substances. It was incredibly fragrant, was this it?

Kanai picked up the small containment and gave it a good sniff. It was incredibly floral, it didn’t exactly smell like the stuff Draeko normally made but he wasn’t able to find anything even remotely similar besides the basic cooking spices. Shrugging his shoulders, the hound filled up a mug with the hot sink water, and dumped the bits of mixed herb in, mixing it around til the water itself turned a fuchsia color. “That’ll do it,” nodding confidently, and without thinking to maybe fish the little chunky bits out of the mug, he instead brought the whole thing, as is, to the rotting demon in his bed.

Alistar grumbled and tossed, sniffling and snorting snot down his throat as he tried his best to clear his terrible congestion. He shuddered. “I have brought you the hot liquid,” Nai stands at the edge of Alistar’s large bed and the red head slowly emerges from the blanket he had been stuffed inside. The anti-christ takes the mug in both his hands and goes to sniff the substance, but is immediately blocked out by his insanely full sinuses. He shrugs loosely.

“Bottoms up,” though apprehensive upon seeing the floating debris he regrettably trusts in his best friend and begins to slurp the hot beverage…before promptly spitting it out. “UNHOLY FUCK…” he shouts as the sting of potpurri burns down his throat, shards of wood and dried petals lodging themselves between his teeth. “What the actual fuck did you put in this??” Kanai steps back sheepishly and scratches his head with confusion.

“I do not understand, is it not good?” He tilts his head almost innocently enough it convinced Alistar, he truly had no idea what he had given him.

“It’s fucking horrendous…” Kanai winced at Alistar's reaction, feeling a pang of guilt for not being able to provide the comfort he had hoped for. He watched as Alistar continued to cough and sputter, his black eyes watering from the overwhelming taste of the concoction. With a sigh, Kanai reached for the mug, intending to take it away and make amends for his mistake.

"I apologize, I suppose my find was insufficient," Kanai muttered apologetically as he grabbed the mug. Alistar wiped his mouth with the back of his blackened hand, grimacing in discomfort.

"Insufficient is one word…absolutely fuckin’ terrible is another…SDnfF…H-hih’…" Alistar rasped out between coughs, his voice hoarse from the ordeal, the light hitch of another oncoming sneeze haunted him as he tried to unearth it by looking over at the light peaking from the blinds. It was better to release than explode trying to hold them in.

Nodding with understanding, Kanai disposed of the failed remedy and fetched a glass of plain water instead. He handed it to Alistar who took it slowly in his hand, still staring steadily toward the light, his mouth hung open just barely agape as he tried to coax the phenomenon to the front. “H-H…” his breaths came out in short gasps, as if it was just below the surface ready to break free, he inhaled sharply, his eyes squeezed til they were almost closed and he, “HEHH’DZSCHh’iEEW! huh’ESSSH!” barreling forward as it splashed from his mouth and into the open air around him, Kanai trying to avoid getting hit with a plume of saliva by taking a few steps back. “SNNNNDDFF… Gahhhh…Id’s neber been dis bad bebore…sdarding do regred a lod of dedigions…” the demon struggled through his words as they became mush in the presence of his worsening illness.

Kanai watched with concern as Alistar suffered through another violent sneeze, feeling utterly helpless in the face of his friend's deteriorating condition. He could see the frustration and discomfort written all over the demon's face, a stark contrast to his usual confident and sarcastic demeanor. As Alistar sniffled and rubbed at his raw nose, Kanai knew he had to do something more to help.

With determination in his eyes, walked up to his partner in crime and scooped him in his arms bridal style, out of the bed without much protest from the other. “SndFf…Where we going?” he asked curiously, but without much energy to even fight the other’s current process, wrapping his arms around the other’s neck.

“Hot soak…” nodding his head as he carried the ailing man to the bathroom and gently set him down on the closed toilet seat. “Undress,” he ordered gently, and while Alistar obliged, at the pace of a snail, Kanai began the one ritual he WAS sure of. More times than not he ran baths for the little mutt whether because he was sick physically or mentally, the hound knew that there was a stash of helpful remedies on deck. These ones, he knew did what. Taking out the bag of epsom salt as the water began to heat up, Kanai also looked around for a wash cloth, finding a clean one in the drawer. “Okay now…” the hound spoke out loud mostly to himself. Al sat on the toilet, naked now, staring blankly ahead with wet, swollen black eyes, he blinked them one at a time.

Kanai plugged the tub and began to concoct a comforting, and hopefully, sinus clearing, hot bath.

The steam began to fill the spacious bathroom as Kanai expertly poured the Epsom salt into the warm water, a soothing lavender scent wafting through the air as it slowly dissolved. Alistar watched with tired eyes, his body trembling slightly from the chill that seemed to constantly plague him now. The hound eventually finished his preparations, and then turned to face the demon, his expression soft yet still determined.

"Alright, time to get in," Kanai said gently, offering a hand to help Alistar into the tub. The demon hesitated for a moment before accepting the assistance and lowering himself into the fragrant water. Alistar let out a long sigh of relief as the warmth enveloped his aching body, easing some of the tension that had settled in his muscles.

Kanai sat by the edge of the tub, watching over Alistar with a mixture of apprehension and care. The red head sat for a moment in silence with his eyes closed and his head resting against the wall. “Hnnn…” he groaned lowly as he allowed the bath to sooth his aching muscles. “Nai?” he then suddenly asked slowly opening one blackened sclera.

“Yes, Donnie?” the navy haired male looked over at his friend curiously.

“Will you get in with me?” now opening both his eyes to look fully at the other, a slight visage of vulnerability could be seen behind them. The hound mulled over the idea for a moment before coming to a stand and slowly stripping his clothes off his body.

“Make room,” he answered at last, and while the red head obliged, there wasn’t a whole lot of space. Kanai sat behind Alistar, and the red head snuggled up between the hound’s legs, Nai wrapped his thin around the other’s torso while they settled comfortably into one another. Alistar let out a gentle sigh of relief, feeling comforted by the other’s body heat pressed into his back.

As the two demons soaked in the warm water, the tension began to melt away from Alistar's body. The lavender-scented steam provided a soothing relief to his aches and pains, and he felt a sense of calm wash over him for the first time in 24 hours. Kanai's presence behind him, his arms wrapped protectively around Alistar, offered a comfort that words could not express for either of them.

The red head leaned back against Kanai, closing his eyes and letting himself relax fully. The warmth of the water seeped into his bones, easing the constant chill that had plagued him. With each passing moment, he felt a little bit of his strength return, bolstered by the care and concern of his friend.

Kanai held Alistar close, feeling the tension slowly leaving the red head's body as they both soaked in the healing waters. He could feel the weight of Al leaning against him getting less and less restrained as the black eyed demon slowly let himself trust. Lazily, the hound reached for the wash cloth and began to gently run it up and down the demon’s chest, up to his neck and around his shoulders, the Anti-christ let out a softened moan. Neither of them were used to this sort of intimacy, maybe Nai with Draeko, but they werent typically this soft with one another. However, they both relaxed, and enjoyed this moment of vulnerability. The peaceful atmosphere enveloping them, the sound of water lapping gently against the sides of the tub mingling with their quiet breathing. Alistar felt the tension in his muscles slowly unwind under Kanai's gentle ministrations, his body growing heavier with relaxation. The hound's touch was a balm to his weary soul, a reminder that despite where they come from, moments of respite and care could still be found.

While Kanai continued to wash away the grime and exhaustion that clung to Alistar's skin, the red-headed demon found himself falling back into bad behaviors, his body slowly rolling into each motion as the heat of the water gave him the illusion of feeling well and the touch of the other was beginning to excite him. “Nai…lower…” he whispered breathlessly. Kanai paused for a moment, his hand stilling on Alistar's skin as he considered the request. He could sense the shift in the atmosphere, the undercurrent of desire mingling with the comforting warmth of the bath. The hound knew that crossing this line could change the trajectory of the night, but as he laid back in contemplation, the hound could not deny who he was down at heart either. Depraved. Both of them.

With a soft exhale, Kanai leaned in closer to Alistar, his touch becoming more intimate as he followed the red head's whispered plea. The water around them seemed to hum with anticipation, a charged energy threading between them as they moved together in the steamy bath. Alistar's breath hitched while Kanai's hands explored lower, sending shivers down his spine and igniting their sinful natures just as the hound’s bare palm met the red head’s stiffened length.

“Hn..nn..Hah..~…F-fuck…” Alistar gasped, noticing the better he felt sexually, the more needy he became to combine his illness with their actions. “Touch my nose…” the red head commanded, almost urgently. Kanai hesitated again for a moment, but the desire building in between them was impossible to ignore, and the hound simply loved to please where he could. With a mix of slight hesitation and longing, Kanai brought his hand up to gently brush his thin fingers against the red head's nose, tracing the lines of his philtrum with a tenderness that belied their usual interactions.

The weakened demon let out a shuddering breath, his body reacting to the dual sensations of pleasure and relief from the bath. The red head’s body trembled and his head fell back against the other’s strong shoulder before the pressure of Kanai’s tickling index sent him over the edge. Like tv static that ran up and down the central nerves of his entire face, the sensation over took him. “hHEH’TZSCHh’ue! hih’AESSHH’ue!” hips desperately thrusting upward into Kanai’s slowly closing palm. It was both exhilarating and humiliating to be reduced to a sickened humping dog, but it only made the experience that much more enjoyable to Al. He snuffled softly. “SndF…” before Kanai swiped his finger across the other’s leaking nostrils to assist. “So good…” the red head moaned.

“My…yours sure are expressive, Donnie,” the hound simply teased, earning a softly dusted blush across the other’s face. While Kanai continued to explore Alistar's body in the warm water, their movements became more urgent, more primal. The red head’s ass starting to rut carelessly up against the other demon’s growing length. The steamy atmosphere of the bathroom seemed to heighten every touch, every whispered breath between them. Alistar's grip on the tub tightened as he felt a wave of heat rush through him, his body arching into the hound's touch.

“Shall I make you go again, hm?” The navy haired man tickled and prodded at the other’s swelling nose, it dripped with anticipation. With a sluggish moan, the red head responded excitably, his hips grinding backwards for more friction. The hound’s mouth split into an almost half smirk, allowing himself the role of dominant as his index moved ever so gently to swipe and poke. Alistar hitched, catching his breath in the middle of his throat before it felt like he was being suffocated by the need to let go.

“H-Huh..” it started slowly. With every movement and tease of Kanai's hand, Alistar felt like he was rolling in a pile of a thousand tiny needles. The sensations were both painful and exhilarating, as if his body had never known anything else. While Kanai continued his teasing, Alistar could feel the acute awareness of his sickness combining with the pleasure, making every twitch and spasm feel that much more intense. His nose twitched, and spasmed while the overwhelming sensations consumed him, he released. “Huh’ESSSHHHUH! hEHh’eEZSCHHhh’iEW!” Loud and expressive the sneezes shot out of his mouth and cascaded like sparkles across the bath water in front of them.

He tried to remain still, to simply absorb the pleasure, but his body wouldn't listen. Every movement, every moan, they all served to heighten the experience at hand. Alistar's chest heaved, his skin breaking out in a cold sweat as he struggled to keep up with the intense onslaught, trying to be satisfied with what was given but ultimately craving more.

The redhead's hands clawed at the side of the bathtub, leaving his knuckles to turn bright grey against his tattooed flesh. Kanai’s breathing turned hard and strangled against the red head’s exposed left ear, which only proved to make matters more intense for the both of them. “Put it in…” Alistar practically whined as he pressed himself up against Kanai’s hard cock. The hound's breath hitched but he obeyed. He felt the tip of his erection brush against the sensitive entrance, and he could tell the red head was well and truly ready for him. With a silent prayer for resistance, Kanai slowly pushed himself inside, his muscles clenching and releasing in a futile attempt to mitigate the sensation. The red head's body writhed, pleading for more.

The water around them churned with passion, their movements becoming even more frantic, their mouths creaked open whilst rough, patterned huffs escaped them both. “Just like…that, Nai…fuck don’t….stop…” the red head grunted, pushing himself back to match each desperate thrust, water sloshing over the edges of the porcelain, crashing to the floor.

Kanai could hardly believe how far they'd descended into their own depravity, and yet the intensity of it somehow only added to their pleasure. He gripped Alistar's hips tightly in one hand, their bodies slamming together in a primal dance, their breaths ragged as they surrendered to the wild beast within them. The red head’s nose flared and twitched under Kanai's still persistent touch, the scent of their desperation and arousal mixed with lavender overwhelming them both. “I’m gonna fuckin….Hih….HIH’AEESSHHH’uE! hHah’AETTTSHH’uh!” His body lurched under the hound’s tight grip on him, splashing waves of bath water over the edges while his sinuses released themselves of pressure. His head throbbed between the dizzying effects of the hot water and pleasure all in one. Alistar could hardly hold himself together anymore, Kanai losing himself in his expertly timed rutting.

Unable to contain the monster that lived inside him, Nai moved his head to bite down on the side of Alistar’s exposed neck, his teeth sure to leave deep indentations as his hips worked forward, desperation taking over as he sought release. “AHhh…fUCK, Nai,” the red head cried out.

Their bodies lost all semblance of control, as if possessed by something beyond their own understanding. The passion was no longer just physical, but rather a fusion of fire and water, a whirlwind of intense lust that threatened to engulf them both.

Alistar’s hands clawed at the porcelain tub, cracking a few of his nails down the middle, all while the hound thrust deeper and harder into him. His voice lost in a strangled growl, Kanai couldn't help but feel vindicated for the brutality of their actions. With each harsh slam, with each ragged breath, the feeling consumed him, fueled by an overwhelming desire to possess, to claim, to conquer.

Their bodies shuddered and convulsed in perfect synchronization, as if bound together by an invisible thread. “Don-nie…I’m going to….” he tried to warn his devious counterpart, his rhythm becoming more jagged and unhinged as he reached closer to his climax.

“Cum…Cum for me Nai…” without hesitation to release the other of his restraints, he wanted to feel the hound blow inside him, in fact by this point he craved it. “I’m so fuckin’ close…” finally reaching down the black eyed demon began to tug and pleasure his own leaking length, their bath water now infused with pre-cum as they leaked to their finish line.

"Get closer, I can't last much longer," Kanai whispered hoarsely with a hint of sass against the other's ear. His voice was thick with need and arousal, a primal grunt that matched the clawing of his nails against the red-head's hips.

Alistar's eyes fluttered shut, and he moaned softly in response, his voice shaking with want. It was as if their bodies were a single entity, sensations coursing between them and intertwining in a way that transcended even the most intense of physical connections. Kanai could feel Alistar's heart racing against his back, the two of them lost in a haze of sin.

As the hound's hips continued to piston forward, Alistar's voice rose in a crescendo of unhindered pleasure. His hands clawed harder at the porcelain tub, almost as if he were trying to pull chunks of it away in his desperate need for a deeper connection. Their rutting became more frenzied, bathwater sloshing over the sides and splashing against the cold tiles.

"I'm gonna cum so fuckin' hard," Alistar gasped, his voice cracking with the intensity before he completely blew his load within the confines of their bath water, his body shaking as he hit his ceiling. “UNHOLY FUCK…” he cried out his head falling back against the other. Kanai's breath hitched, pleasure coursing through him like lightning. He could feel the other's climax ripple through him, a shared sensory experience of raw, unadulterated ecstasy. The hound's hips bucked wildly, propelling them both towards their release. As Alistar's walls clenched around him, Kanai felt his own resistance crumble like a sandcastle at the ocean's edge.

"I'm cumming, Alistar," Nai growled, his voice thick with lust.

Alistar moaned depravedly, his body trembling as he felt Kanai's hot seed spill deep inside. The hound's release bringing a sense of accomplishment that settled deep within his bones, they both panted as they tried to catch their breath, Kanai softening inside the other’s still clenching hole.

“Just….what the doctor fuckin’ ordered amirite?” Alistar chuckled a bit breathlessly to break the tension that was thick inside the bathroom. The mirrors had been all fogged up, the bath water was soiled and slowly starting to run cold. Kanai took in a deep breath as he relaxed himself against the cool tile wall.

“I think….we should….probably get out now…” the hound spoke tiredly. Alistar nodded in agreement, a light smirk playing on his lips. He slowly extracted himself from Kanai's grip, his body still trembling from the intense experience. As he stood up, he reached out and grabbed Kanai's hand, helping him to rise as well. Together, they made their way out of the soiled bathtub, the water now drained and leaving only a pool of slight residue.

They stepped out and dried themselves off with a nearby towel, wrapping it around their waists. The room was filled with a hazy aroma of eucalyptus lavendar and arousal, the scent lingering in the air like a misty veil. As they Surveyed the bathroom, Alistar couldn't help but love how the mirrors had fogged up, leaving a steamy reflection of the deviant act they'd just shared.

“I figure…” Kanai clears his throat and looks around before making eye contact with his friend. “I should probably attempt to make you the liquid meal…” the hound trailed off almost unsure if he could accomplish anything other than the bath on this evening. Alistar yawned lazily, stretching his arms out and feeling a bit relieved after the events that unfolded.

“Or, we could just cuddle in bed, have the pet pick something up,” the demon shrugged his shoulders with a look of carefree contentment.

“OH! Oh no…the pet…there’s chores I must proceed with before I can be released to lounge, Donnie,” the navy haired man almost seemed panicked, overwhelmed even. Alistar stepped closer and put both his palms on each side of the other’s face.

“Shh…chores shmores I’ll take the heat, as well as do the dumb ass chores when I feel better….for now…I need a caretaker, Nai, you can’t let me go to bed unattended….” The red head pouted, making a persistent and compelling argument.

“Yes, but, Draeko needs the house to be clean…” Kanai trailed off as he sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Alistar chuckled softly, leading him towards his bedroom with a sly grin on his face.

"C'mon, Nai, let's just get into bed for now, and I'll help you with those chores later. A little rest will do us both good, don't you think?" Nai couldn't help but oblige at the other’s persistent charm, knowing that eventually, he would be unable to resist and would succumb to the temptation of the warm, inviting bed as he’d now exhausted himself anyway. Al led the hound to his bed, pulling him in as they snuggled close together, Alistar resting his pounding head against the other’s strong chest.

“Fine…but you will have to face the pet’s rage if he returns before the list is complete,” the navy haired man began to lazily mull his long fingers through the red strands of hair that lay upon him.

“Deal,” Al snickered, wrapping himself around the other like a greedy leech. They laid like this, til they both succumbed to sleep.

The End

Author’s Notes: I get so depraved writing these two besties that fuck 🫢 Hope yall enjoyed ☺️

[waterfallofspace]

Entertainment Comes In Many Forms.

The one in which G/ojo has a cold, a meeting with someone he despises, and a boyfriend with a snz!kink who will also be in attendance. Also known as, G/ojo teases N/anami endlessly while in public, and also gets to torment principal Y/oshinobu (who has ‘a thing about germs’). Two birds with one exaggerated cold.  WELP, it was sure to happen, G/ojo (and J/JK in general) has been SO on my mind recently. Bear with me, it’s my first time writing these guys, so I don’t claim to have them down yet!! Buuuuut, I’m absolutely in love with G/ojo, so I had to do something with him~~ Bit of a shorter one this time, though I have a few ideas for longer J/JK stories if anyone’s interested! To anyone who bothers to read this, thank you! And I hope you enjoy~~ (References to swearing, and snz!fucker play (borderline smut), in case anyone doesn’t like those)  Characters: G/ojo, N/anami, Principal Y/oshinobu, and G/ojo’s cold.  Word count: 2k

It wasn’t like Gojo had planned to have a cold for this meeting. He’s good, but he’s not that good. It just so happens that fate was on his side this blessed fall day. He’d woken up with a scratchy throat a few days ago, which had morphed into congestion and a slight cough the next day, and by today, had grown into a full fledged cold.  The meeting with Nanami and the principal of Kyoto’s school had been planned for weeks, so technically if he had wanted to, he could have prepared for this, which honestly just made it feel sweeter to him. The fact that he hadn’t planned, everything was just working out his way. “Ihh’shuue-! haHH’TISHH’ieww-! hH’ISHH’iew-!” And then there was that. That had started yesterday, but came back in earnest today, just in time for the meeting. A smile breaks across Gojo’s face as he rubs his nose against his hand, delighted at the level of tickle that still buzzed within his sinuses. He was planning to put on a bit of a show, even wore his sunglasses instead of a blindfold for easier access to his eyes, but it was starting to look like his body was prepared to play its part all on its own.  Fashionably late, as always, Gojo takes his seat on the couch, the principal seated across from him on a chair, and Nanami to his left, leaning against the wall, seemingly waiting for Gojo to arrive before choosing a seat. “Aw, were you all waiting for me? How sweet!” Nanami sighs, taking his seat on the chair set just to the left of the couch, reclining just enough to cross one leg over the other. Gojo follows suit, offering a drippingly sweet smile. “We had to wait for you. You can’t have a three person meeting with only two of the people.” Gojo puts on a shocked expression, bringing his hand to his mouth. “You can’t? Oh my, that’s certainly news to me! I’m so sorry for the wait then gentlemen.” The principal remains silent, eyes clouded, but Gojo notices the twitch in his hands against his cane, smirking to himself. ‘Oh, this is gonna be even more fun than I had planned, he’s already on edge!’  “Shall we get started then, principal?”  “Yes. First item to talk about is-” “hhEH’ISHH’CHOOO-!”  Gojo let loose with that one, tacking on a ‘choo’ at the end for good measure, making sure to bring up a wrist to cover with. Gotta start off easy, can’t have them clueing into the game before it gets good.  “Wheew, sorry guys, snuck up on me. I’m battling a bit of a cold, been quite sneezy today.” His eyes flick over to Nanami as he practically purrs the word. His boyfriend shows no real reaction on the surface, but Gojo doesn’t miss the way his eyes trace Gojo’s nose, down his neck, and back up again. The principal, meanwhile, has leaned back in his chair. It’s slight, but it’s enough to get Gojo’s blood pumping. ‘Let round one commence.’  “Well, you can’t exactly be blamed for that. Though, you’d think one as powerful as yourself would have a better immune system.” Gojo just smiles, fake and full of chocolate-coated spite. “One would think that, wouldn’t they? Turns out, not the case, I’m still human after all.” “So it would seem.” The conversation is polite, but each word drips with alternate meanings and tones of deceit. Gojo lets a wet snffff- escape as the topic turns back to the meeting. He’s fairly uninterested in whatever nonsense the principal and Nanami are on about, good thing he expected this. “And so when it comes to training new sorcerers, we’ve decided on-” “Huhh-! heH’ASHHH’OOOO-! Oh scuuhhhse- hEH’KTSHH’CHHOO-! Scuse me!” This time Gojo pretends to bring his arm up, very obviously, and purposefully, missing it entirely. It delights him to see the principal physically wince, pulling back even further in his chair. Nanami, however, let out a noise that, on anyone else, would be classified as a whimper, before clearing his throat and offering a weak blessing. “B-bless you…” “Thank you! Snnfff- guhhh… Still itchy, but I think it’s done for now. What were we talking about before I so rudely interrupted?” The principal starts up again about, well to be honest Gojo doesn’t even know what they’re on about at this point. He’s much more focused on letting the wet cough pour out into his hands. It shakes him enough that the couch rattles, and Nanami gives him a look of sympathy. “You need some water?” Gojo clears his throat, coughing finally tapering off, making sure to give a light sniffle to relight the tickle that was starting to burn through his nose again. He subtly turned his head, making sure Nanami had a full view of his twitching nose, finger rubbing against it. The principal however, would have a great view of his hands not reaching up to cover these ones. “Snnfff- Nah, thank you though Nanami, what a dear! I’m ahhhlriight… heHH-! Uhhh… hAHH- hh’hEHH-! HAH’TISHHH’OOO-! ISHH-TSHHH-hH’ISHHH’CHOO-!”  “Disgusting, at least co-” He cuts the principal off with another shaky inhale, making direct eye contact with Nanami, and taking notice of the way his legs are nearly trembling, before succumbing to another,  “AHH’KSHHH’OOO-!uhhhh hehH! hH’ISHH’iew-! Ishh’iew-! Hh’tishh’iew-!”  A few smaller ones slip out before he can add anything to them, but that’s more than alright. Giving Nanami another glace, Gojo smirks at the way his mouth is practically hanging open. ‘Well well, if I didn’t know better Nanami, I’d say you’re drooling~’  His nose is still trembling, and he brings up a palm to rub at it. While this is all very entertaining, he’s still actually sick after all, so he takes a sip of the water Nanami had set beside him earlier. It delights him when this brings another round of harsh coughs, making sure to aim towards the principal. The man is practically sweating, his knuckles full white as they grip his cane. He’s even showing his eyes, a sure sign of how offput he is. They are wide, and almost vibrating with anxiety. Nanami’s are also fixed on him, but he’s vibrating with a completely different emotion. “Bless you.” It’s soft, weak even. Not a word normally associated with Nanami, but given how his teeth chew at his lip, it’s the best he can do. “Thank you!  Jeez sorry, it’s juhhhst so tickly. Really don’t know why it’s… ihhts… heH’ISHH’SHOOO-! Why it’s this bad today, guess it’s just a fast acting cold.” Gojo smirks yet again as his last words seem to pierce right into the principal, helped along by his utterly uncovered sneeze. The man is practically shaking, sweat dripping from him as he attempts to push his chair right back through the wall. Finally he’s had it, and Gojo gives an innocent smile with a questioning glance as the principal stands up. “Leaving so soon? Don’t we have more business to attend to?” The congestion that’s seeping into Gojo’s voice coaxes a slight moan from the direction of his boyfriend, but the principal seems too preoccupied with fleeing to notice. ‘Probably for the best, I doubt Nanami wants an audience to what, undoubtedly, he has planned for this next part.’  “It can wait for another day. I have… uh… urgent matters… to attend to…”  Normally Gojo would have called him out on such a bullshit excuse, but today he was eager for the principal to take his leave, so he remains silent. Silent, aside from another harsh set of coughing he aims towards the gap between the principal and the door.  Another smirk works over his face as he watches the principal’s eyes narrow, trying to find a way to get out of the room without crossing the line of fire. Eventually he just decides to brave it, quite nearly running out of the room.  As they’re left alone ‘at last’ Gojo lets his attention fall completely on Nanami. The man is still sitting, but his entire body is trembling, his eyes hungry with desire. “Just us now. Anything in particular you wanna d-” He’s cut off by Nanami springing up from his chair, and grabbing Gojo up off the couch. He spins him around, pressing him against the wall, before letting a faint whine escape his lips with his next words.  “You cruel bastard.” “What~? That’s no way to talk to your sick boyfriend, I’m miserable over here. I’m just so tiiihhhckly, and itchy, and I ha- ahhhh- hAH-! Have to sneehheze.”  “No.” Nanami responds, pinching Gojo’s twitching nose between his fingers. “You’ve been tormenting me for this whole meeting, it’s time to return the favour.” Now it’s Gojo’s turn to whine, his nose practically trembling at the feeling of Nanami’s grasp. “Oh come ohhhn Nanami, you can’t b- be sehhhh- hEH-HDT-!uhhhh serious! Touching it juuhhhhh- hehhh- ihHheHH!uhhh just m- makes it tiihhhhckle so much more… you know how se- hehhh- sensitive I am.”  Nanami gives Gojo a smirk, a wicked look in his eyes, before starting to gently rub his fingers back and forth. Gojo gasps, hands suddenly twitching as he fights the urge to pull Nanami’s fingers off. His eyes flutter shut, tears starting to pool in them at the desperation of the tickle.  “When I give you permission, you aim them where I tell you to.” “hehH- ihh…haaahh… hAH-! Guhhhh…”  “Okay, go ahead.” And with that, Nanami releases his grasp, giving Gojo’s nose one final flick, which at this point, was completely unnecessary.  “heH’NNGT-! Knngt-! hh’dngt-! nngxxt-! hEH-!uhhh… hhihHH’knNGT-! hH’NGTT’shoo-!” A low growl breaks loose from Nanami’s throat as Gojo directs the onslaught of ticklish stifles against his neck, biting his lip hard as he feels the warmth of his twitching nose press just under his ear. “Let them out.” “Hmm~? I’m snehhh- sneezing, what else could you possibly mean?” Gojo whispers, his hitching breaths blowing gently against Nanami’s ear. In response, Nanami practically moans, the only thing stopping him is Gojo’s hand pressed against his mouth. “Uh uh uh, not yet. I’m n- hahhh! not quite through with you just yet. Patience is a virtue, Naahhhhnami.” Hearing his name hitched through is almost enough to send Nanami over the edge, but he holds on, Gojo’s hand promisingly close to his hips. Gojo’s nose, on the other hand, is trembling. He gently rubs it along Nanami’s neck, letting a few desperate hitches escape against the warm skin. Feeling a desperate twitch, he presses his nose into Nanami’s shoulder, using it to stifle the next fit. “hH’NNgt-! nNGT-! ehh’DNGGT-!hehh… ihh-HEH’NGXT-!”  Nanami whines, pressing his waist into Gojo’s and biting his tongue hard to keep from moaning at the sensations of the warm trembling nose being rubbed back up to his ear. In response, Gojo lets out a purr, giving Nanami’s ear a soft bite, before finally offering some relief to them both. He lets his breath hitch, gently blowing on Nanami’s neck, before finally releasing against him with a moan that Nanami soon echoes. “hIHH’ISHH’IEW-!  Oh dea- hAH’ASHH’IEW-! Ishh’uee-! So tickly… itch- itchy… hheH’Tishh-tshhh-kshhh-ishhhh’iew-! hahH’KISHH’UUE-! I can’t s- hAH’ASHH’IEW-! Can’t sto- stop- hH’ESHH’ooo-! mMMFSSH’IEW-! Bless mehehhh- Eh’shh’uue-! ESHH’IEW-!”  Both of them are panting by the time he’s done, with Nanami practically licking his lips. “Bless you.” “Guhhh- thank you. Must be one hell of a cold, snfff- I don’t think I’ve sneezed that much without allergic interference snff- or inducing it along in, hmm…heH’ISHH’IEW-! Oh, scuse me- Probably years now.” “You’re all stuffy now.” Nanami purrs, lightly nibbling on Gojo’s neck, and relishing in the whimper it elicits from the sniffly man. “So it would seem. Any- snnffff- any remedies you can think of?” The question is laced with deeper meaning, and Nanami sinks his teeth into Gojo’s lips in response, letting their mouths meet with a deep, hungry kiss. Only breaking it when Gojo needs to gasp for air, no longer able to breathe through his nose. “I can think of a few things.” 

[aller-geez]

You’re Safe Here ˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

Okay seriously though…. I will not sit here and try to pretend that this fic wasn’t entirely for myself cause wow the whole thing is just self indulgent fluff….

Disgustingly sick Remi with the most sweet and pure caretaking from his mate. About 8k words with a bit more snz…… plus a little more mess than I usually write. Also has Levi help Remi hold back at one point 😏

CW: There’s also one sentence in this about nausea, but nothing past that.

@thekinkyleopard owns Levi as always! 🩶

Remi's peaceful slumber was abruptly shattered by a heinous nightmare, vivid and horrifying as they ever were. The wolf's cry echoed through the darkness of his dream, but its haunting howl also pierced the veil of reality, shaking the walls of their bedroom as he jolted awake in a cold sweat. His heart pounded in his chest like a jackhammer and every nerve in his body was on high alert, fueled by a surge of adrenaline that made his breath come in ragged gasps.

Frantically scanning the familiar surroundings, Remi's green eyes were wide with terror as he tried to shake off the lingering effects of the nightmare. But there was an unfamiliar tightness in his chest and throat, raw and constricting, making it difficult to catch his breath. Before he could calm himself down, his mate's hand squeezed his thigh in a gesture of comfort, but it only served to startle him even more.

With a yelp, the wolf nearly leapt out of bed, trembling as the remnants of the nightmare lingered in his mind. It was a constant battle, trying to keep the terrifying memories at bay, but they always managed to claw their way back into his consciousness, taunting him with their brutality.

“Remington!— Acushla! Hey! It’s just me!” Levi waved his hands in front of his mate’s face, trying to get the others attention.

Quickly, Remi was pulled back to reality by the leopard’s soothing voice. Before he could express his appreciation to the feline, however, the tightness in his chest demanded the spotlight, and his appreciative sigh was choked off by uncharacteristically breathless coughs that rattled within the wolf’s clearly irritated lungs.

Groaning loudly in annoyance over the way his body ached and his head throbbed, Remi forcefully fell back against the mountain of pillows behind him. After a second, he finally turned his head towards his mate, who cautiously smiled at him from the other side of the bed where he was nested in his soft snow leopard print blanket, with a thick, yellow hardcover book in his lap. A half full cup of coffee sat on his nightstand, and the lamp next to him had been dimmed as much as it could, splashing a calming yellow light across that side of the room.

“What’re you doing?” Remi asked through squinted eyes, his voice laden with a subtle hoarseness to it.

Taken off guard by the question, Levi cocked an eyebrow, looking from the book in his hand, then back to Remi and then back to the book again, confused.

“Whatdya mean, Rem? Clearly I’m stealing the Declaration of Independence; isn’t it obvious?” The feline giggled coyly, but the wolf was unamused, rolling his emerald green eyes with a more serious expression over a playful one.

Truth was, he felt like something someone would scrape from a storm drain or a gutter; just soggy and cold and overall just— icky. He didn’t mean to take it out on Levi, and he knew the leopard didn’t deserve it. But his fuse was so short currently, he couldn’t help it.

“No but really.. it’s this amazing book I picked up at the book store a couple days ago with a bunch of different Erotica short stories! At first, it didn’t even sound like something I would like personally, but I started reading it last night and I couldn’t believe —“

Cutting the leopard off mid sentence, the wolf muffled a grunt into his pillow, the pulse of an intense migraine throbbing through his temples. He reached back towards the now silent leopard seated next to him and gently patted the other’s thin thigh through the comforter that was wrapped up around them both.

“I love you, Levi, but—“ Remi’s voice cracked, and he had to forcefully swallow the sticky saliva that coated the inside of his mouth before continuing, though the hoarseness in his tone was clearly heard now. “—but I just— need 5 minutes without any talking..”

Grimacing outwardly, he brought a hand up to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, squeezing his eyes shut. It felt like someone had dropped a cinder block on the top of his head then proceeded to beat him with a shovel, and he was suddenly aware of the pressure within his eyes as his heartbeat pulsed painfully behind his eyelids. The congestion that decided to invade his sinuses the night before had definitely decided to set up shop, making breathing through his nose an imaginary concept. His ears were even clogged, which didn’t help the intensity of the pain within his skull.

Why did he always get such little warnings when it came to his immune system? He would be perfectly healthy the beginning of one day, and within 24 hours he was completely incapacitated by illness.

Without turning his head back and seeing Levi, he could just feel the offense taken by his blunt words. He knew he needed to correct himself and clarify with his mate, however, the energy it took to even confirm with his body about how absolutely shitty he felt was enough to lull the wolf back to sleep for a moment, dozing off with his mouth agape and a thin line of drool escaping his clearly chapped lips, falling onto the pillow below.

The smaller male scoffed almost silently, adjusting the book on his lap and tossing the wolf an insulted glare. “Sure, good morning to you, too, dick.”

Levi shook his head with a frustrated sigh, craning his neck upward a little to try and see his mate’s face, trying to gauge what he was even doing to need silence. When he noticed Remi asleep again, the leopard rolled his icy blue eyes with a huff, before returning to his book.

“Damn, Rude,” he whispered to himself with a crinkle of his freckled nose.

If you didn’t count the loud, ragged mouth breathing, the sub conscious sniffles his body preformed to keep the mess within his sinus cavity from escaping as much as it possibly could while he was asleep, or the occasional unintelligible word muttered in a hoarse, almost grotesque voice, 20 minutes of near silence passed as the smaller male continued to read his book, getting fully enveloped in the story he was reading.

Just as he was coming up on an important part in the plot, he felt Remi’s unconscious body shift next to him, and he managed a quick glance up to his mate, who was completely still again, although now positioned on his back. His broad chest rose and fell rhythmically, although more labored and frantic than usual.

Without giving credit to the sheen of sweat that coated his tanned skin, causing the damp sheet to stick to his bare back, Levi paid the wolf no more mind, desperate to read his book. He picked the book up this time, holding it out in front of his face while his eyes scanned the words on the page until he read something familiar, causing the white haired male to squeak happily before burying his nose back into the text again.

Not even a few minutes pass before Remi’s previously motionless body shifted next to him again; his defined nose quivered involuntarily against the moonlight that was pouring through the bedroom window and glinting off of the single watery line of snot that threatened to drip down the raven haired male’s upper lip.

Quickly placing his thumb firmly under the last word he had read as to not lose his place, the leopard reluctantly ripped his attention from his book again to shoot another glance toward his mate. He had been too invested in the book he still tightly clutched in his hand that his mate’s usual tells had gone unheard and unnoticed, and the cat was caught off guard by the familiar pre sneeze face that twisted the other’s features.

Suddenly, one good inhale caused Remi’s large chest swelled so full it looked as if he might burst, followed by a barely audible whimper, before his lanky frame snapped forward aggressively into a fully upright position.

“hh'IETSH’UE! Hihhh—Hihh’EXTSH’ue! HI’DTSCHIEW!” The wolf sneezed harshly down towards his own lap, decorating the surface of the blanket with thick droplets of mess. His nose ran profusely, causing him to try to frantically snort back the thick wall of congestion without much success as the pink hue that dusted his fevered cheeks became even more intense.

His strategy only resulted in a ticklish coughing fit that rattled deep within his chest cavity, and lasted a little longer than either of the two would have liked, earning a concerned frown from the leopard as he set his book down on the nightstand and reached out one of his pale hands to gently rub circles in his mates damp, muscular back.

“Ghnnhh..” the wolf moaned quietly with his head in his hands, melting into the other’s touch and sniffling unproductively.

Every muscle in his body screamed at him, and the pressure within his skull was almost unbearable after such a rough wake up. Wincing again, Remi brought one of his large hands up to grip his temples between his thumb and index finger, squeezing his eyes shut to try and relieve some of the pressure in some way.

Levi tilted his head as he studied his ailing mate, getting closer to the wolf on the bed and starting to massage up and down the other’s back more intensely, this time with both hands. As the other’s deliberate pressure was increased on his aching muscles, Remi sighed in contentment, turning into jelly within the cat’s expert hands.

“What can I do for you, acushla? Let me help you.” The leopard whispered as quietly as possible to avoid aggravating the other’s headache.

“Hhhnm?” Remi willed his eyes open to glance back at Levi, and the usually bright green glow of his irises was now dim and unsaturated, while dark purple circles painted the flushed flesh under his eyes.

“Oh— Ndo, that’s okay.. Th-Th-hehhh- thandk you, kihhh— ihh- ih’TTSSHH! hih’iiiSSHHH’uu!!” Remi tucked his face into his shoulder to direct the sneezes away from the other, following them up with a thick, waterlogged snuffle and a pained sigh.

“Bless you baby.. do you have a headache? You want me to get you some ibuprofen?” Levi asked gently, already shuffling his body to get up to grab the bottle of medicine.

“Thandks.. and yeah, I guess I could take sobe..” The wolf sighed and admitted defeat, dragging his wrist under his nose and leaving a wet trail up his forearm. With another thick sniffle and a grimace, Remi shuddered, suddenly feeling the air hitting his still damp skin and causing goosebumps to rise all over his body.

“Cad you see if we have ady tissues left, too?” He asked rather pathetically, leaning back against the headboard and pulling the comforter that was lazily draped over his waist up under his chin,  curling up his comically long body so he was in a tight ball around himself.

Levi nodded towards the wolf with an endearing smile, getting up and making his way to the door.

“Of course baby.”

After a second, the leopard returned with a large bottle of ibuprofen paired with a cold bottle of water from the fridge, and gently plopped it into Remi’s lap with a smile.

“Here’s this, and—“ with a sheepish expression, Levi pulled out a fresh roll of paper towels from behind his back and offered it to the wolf. “We ran out of tissues, but I can get more in a little bit.. until then, this is all we had..”

With a single defeated chuckle, Remi took the roll from the other’s outstretched hands, shaking his head as he ripped off a few of the first sheets and folded them twice, then three times before tenting them over his nose. With a loud, productive gurgle, he blew his nose into the paper before exhaling a sigh as he balled it up in his hand, absolutely drenched through. The rough paper towel was harsh against his poor reddened nostrils, only furthering the chapped, irritated skin there. With a ragged inhale, he tried to catch his breath enough to open the bottle of ibuprofen in his lap, but when he was distracted by another onslaught of chesty coughs, Levi’s optimistic expression quickly faded into concern and he sat on the edge of the bed close to his mate, taking the large bottle of medicine from his weakened grasp.

Remi didn’t protest like he usually would; instead he just watched the cat with a pitiful look on his downtrodden features, which made Levi more concerned than anything.

Dumping out 4 ibuprofen into his ivory palm, the cat offered them to Remi with a gentle rumble from low in his throat that sounded like a purr, and a small smile.

He had to remind himself inwardly that his mate always did better when he didn’t lose himself in worry over him, and instead just tried to be optimistic. The wolf always had been bad about absorbing the cats emotions, and he needed to be there for Remi right now, not stress him out more.

Remi reached out to take the ibuprofen almost like a zombie, his expression blank as he took the pills from Levi’s hand, and the leopard could easily feel the heat radiating off of Remi’s hands. Reaching into the wolf’s lap, the cat snatched the unopened bottle of water, cracking the cap off and holding it out to his mate, who took it in an equally uncharacteristic manner as he had taken the pills.

As Remi took a gulp of the cool water, it suddenly occurred to him how dehydrated he was. Without much thought, he lifted the bottle of water so it was almost completely vertical and began to chug the contents as if his life depended on it, only popping his lips from the rim after a moment in order to gasp for air, and sputter a few stray coughs towards his knees breathlessly. Thankfully, at least a couple good gulps still remained in the bottle afterward, and once he caught his breath, he filled his large mouth with the last bit of his water, before tossing back the four pills that he held in his sweaty palm. Once Levi had watched the other take the pills, he tousled the wolf’s hair lovingly as he stood up again.

“I’ll get you another water bottle, and I want to see how high your fever is..” The smile that he plastered on his face was clearly forced, his head reeling with concern for the state of his mate, but Remi was too out of it to call him out for it.

“Okay, thandk you..” Remi croaked out, only his eyes following Levi as he walked out of the door.

He scurried to the kitchen that was only down a short hallway, stopping at the drawer at the very end that was deemed the “miscellaneous drawer” and for some reason was the spot they had decided the thermometer lived. He fished out the instrument from the depths of the drawer and closed it quickly, holding it up with the screen towards him and pressing the button to confirm it still worked. When the numbers lit up across the led screen, he silently cheered to himself before turning towards the rest of the kitchen. As the leopard pulled open the fridge and pulled out another fresh bottle of water, he was startled by another spontaneous fit that was uncharacteristically loud for his mate.

“HEHH’DZSCHh’iEEw! Hihhh- HHHH- hHEH’TZSCHh’UE! Hd’IZTSsHHhhh’ih! HAH—! hiiih’AETTCHHuh!” The wolf sneezed loudly, scrambling to snatch another sheet of paper towel off of the roll and clamp it to his nose and mouth, however the first two escaped before he had a moment to process his impending actions. A river of ick began to pour from his raw nose despite his incessant sniffling ,and tears that welled up in his dull eyes threatened to follow suit. Desperately, Remi stuffed the soiled paper towel under his nose and pressed it there firmly to catch any leakage.

When Levi returned to their room and laid eyes on the pathetic creature that was his mate, curled up under a big comforter, crazy bed head, a soggy crumpled up paper towel pressed to his nose that beamed a crimson hue now, dark circles under his half lidded eyes that were puffy and damp with tears, he swore he felt his heart melt within his chest.

“Here baby, here’s more water, and you know the drill with this..” The leopard smiled with his faux optimism, holding the thermometer up and wiggling it back and forth between his fingers.

Remi snuffled wetly against the makeshift tissue with a nod, removing it from under his nose and lowering his hand until it sat in his lap obediently.

“Sorry if I get sdot odn you, I cadt help it. Mby nose wodnt stop rudding.” He warned with a flat tone, and as if to enunciate his point , a single bead of clear snot suddenly threatened to drip down his upper lip.

“Don’t worry, Acushla. You never have to worry about that kind of stuff, okay?” The cat smiled down at his mate before leaning down slightly and kissing the top of his head. When he pulled back, the wolf managed a slow nod in acknowledgment with a preemptive snort, and opened his mouth for Levi, his tongue slightly raised.

With expert dexterity, the leopard tucked the uncapped thermometer under the other’s tongue just as he closed his mouth. Well, almost closed his mouth. He had to breathe still, right?

Sitting on the edge of the bed again while he waited for the thermometer to beep, Levi began carding his fingers through the damp strands of raven colored hair that even for Remi, looked messy. The wolf leaned his head back slightly, a pleasured groan leaving him as the instrument between his lips continued to get a reading, beeping periodically as it climbed higher and higher.

After a few seconds, Levi could feel his mate suddenly stiffen under him, his ragged breathing now slow and more deliberate.

“L-Levi—“ Remington tried, and the cat’s thin fingers stopped slipping through his hair as he leaned forward to hear him better.

“Yes, baby?”

“I hhh-… I h-have to.. sdehhh- Hihh—! ..sdeeze—!“

The leopard’s icy blue eyes flew to the thermometer perched between the other’s chapped lips, sucking his teeth loudly in response.

“Come on Rem, hold it back for a few more seconds so the thermometer can finish.. I know you can hold it off for just a few seconds..” He coaxed, removing one hand from Remi’s hair and placing a single pale finger under the wolf’s quivering nostrils, pressing it firmly against his septum despite the small pool of wetness that already resided there.

Remi gasped as the sensation that burned within his irritated nose seemed to take offense to Levi’s control, and roared quickly back into an overwhelming force that buzzed so intensely that the wolf began to stumble over his own breath snagging in his throat. The canines ragged breathing sounded almost strangled; breathless. “Hhhh—.. Hhhiihh—“

“Good job baby, only a few more seconds..”

The concentration it took to swallow back the inevitable fit was almost too much for the wolf, however just as he was about to break and succumb to his urges, the thermometer beeped loudly to signify it was finished. Quickly in one fluid motion, Levi removed his finger from under his mate’s nose and snatched the instrument from his lips, before drawing it back towards his face to read it.

Suddenly uninhibited now, Remi couldn’t dream of holding back the forceful, desperate fit that exploded from him, and not a moment too soon.

“Hah'ISSchuu! Hh— hiiih’IITTSSSHUU! tch’ISSH! Heh— hiiiihh—ITSCCCHH’ah! Sdddrff, haah—! hdt’ishhhh! Hihh’ISSHh! Hh— ihH’ktdSHhh!!!” The sheer force of the sneezes that tore through him left his usually strong, able body trembling, a shudder rolling through him as he blew his nose again, soaking yet another makeshift tissue before tossing it to the side. His shaky hands already fumbled with the roll of napkins to tear off another sheet, stuffing the dry paper against his sensitive nostrils that were the equivalent of a broken faucet. Finally turning his head to face Levi again, he snuffled against the paper towel and looked up at the other much like a kicked puppy.

“S’Whats the dabage?” Remi asked, his voice not much more than a whisper and muffled by the mulched paper in front of his mouth.

“104.3…” The leopard sighed with concern, managing a glance towards Remi, who simply nodded when hearing the results.

“If you were human we would be at the ER right now so your brain wouldn’t liquify but—“ With a soft chuckle and a loving smile, Levi reached out to gently pat the top of his mate’s head in reassurance. “It’s nothing some medicine and rest won’t clear up.” He smiled genuinely, a small sparkle of optimism reflecting with his blue eyes.

This small gesture from the other meant more to Remi than his mate knew, and a small smirk slowly appeared across his face.

“Does this mbeand you’ll lay id bed with mbe all day, thend?” The wolf asked hoarsely before managing a chuckle that wasn’t choked out by coughs.

Levi couldn’t help but grin, a wave of relief crashing over him as he was captivated by Remi’s smile; albeit small, it was still more of a smile than he’d expressed since he woke up.

“Of course my love, I would LOVE to spend the day in bed with you.” He answered genuinely before placing another chaste kiss against the top of wolf’s head. “But there’s one thing I want you to do first..”

Quickly, Remi’s smirk disappeared, and he looked down at the bed as he dabbed gently at his leaking nose, the appendage threatening to leak past the rough paper towel that was meant to contain it.

“Bmaybe… depends…” Remi huffed with a more annoyed tone to his already shot voice.

Levi giggled softly at his mate’s theatrics, shaking his head. Leave it to Remington to be a stubborn ass even in the throws of severe illness.

“It’s nothing bad!” The leopard cried, causing Remi to recoil from the volume of the cat’s voice, and Levi clasped a hand to his mouth selfconsciously.

“Sorry— it’s not bad.. I just want you to take a nice, cool bath so you can be clean and comfortable and maybe it’ll bring your fever down a bit..” The leopard finished, avoiding making eye contact with the other for a second, but when he was met only by silence, he turned back to glance at his mate with confusion.

“I dod’t kndow if I cand—“ Remi finally replied sheepishly, one of his hands absentmindedly playing with a loose string that hung off of their comforter on front of him. He already felt as if his head were in a fish bowl, and his limbs felt so weak that he didn’t even trust them to support his weight for more than a few steps, much less wash himself.

“Oh, n-no! I meant— You should let me help you take a bath.. I know you don’t like me having to do all of that stuff but it’s my pleasure, Rem! I just want to do what I can to make you feel even a little bit better, and I think you’ll be so much more comfortable if you’re clean, and I put new blankets and sheets on the bed.. Please?” Levi could feel himself word vomiting, but once the flood gates opened, there was no reeling it in.

At first, the wolf opened his mouth to decline the others kind offer, but watching him get so worked up trying to convince him was enough for him in that moment.

“—okay.” Remi finally croaked out, and it took Levi so off guard that he continued to argue his point, not fully processing the word that had come from the others mouth.

“I swear, you’ll get rid of all that crap in your lungs! I have some Vicks bath stuff that I think will help you and you’ll already be in the water so you don’t even need to bring the tiss— err… paper towels!” The leopard continued frantically, waving his arms about as he spoke.

Remi couldn’t hold back the slightly strangled chuckle that rumbled through his throat. “Kittend— Levi, baby.. I said okay..” he reached one of his baseball mitt sized hands out to place it on the cat’s forearm trying to ground him, his flushed skin just radiating heat a few inches from its surface.

“O-oh— okay, well I didn’t expect you to agree!” Levi beamed so wide that he was forced to close his eyes, and if Remi was honest, that was all he ever needed to recover. The cats smile was bright and infectious and the octaves that it caused the wolf’s  heart to sing could be heard no where else in the world. He would spend days lost in the baby blue pools if he could. But he would gladly accept the feline’s kind offer, if it made Levi happy.

“Wait here, I’ll go get everything ready for you, okay?” The smaller male chirped as he pulled the door open, scurrying down the hallway towards their bathroom as the wolf shook his head with a smirk, and a few more ticklish coughs.

It only took a few minutes for Levi to draw the bath, toss a fresh towel and a fresh comfortable outfit for Remi to change to into the drier in the hallway, drop two of the Vicks tablets into the bath water, and light a few small aromatherapy candles that were placed along the side of the bathtub. Lastly, he dimmed the bathroom lights to create an ambiance that wouldn’t be too much for the ailing wolf. Pausing in the doorway for a moment to admire his work, the cat clapped his hands together with pride before dashing back down the hallway into their room.

Even though it had only been a few minutes, Remi was already fast asleep leaned back against the headboard, his mouth hanging open as he breathed loudly.

Levi approached his mate slowly and quietly, and once he was close enough, he reached out to gently muse the wolf’s hair and kiss him on his warm forehead a few times.

“Hey babyyy… your bath is ready~” Levi mewled softly into his ear.

Peeling open his emerald eyes, Remi blinked slowly before looking back at Levi, his determination obviously dwindling. “Are you sure you wadnt to do this? If i’mb this gross ndow, I cad prombise you it’ll be way worse ind a Vicks bath..” the wolf warned, a little embarrassed for his mate to even see him at this level of disgusting.

“Come on, Rem.. we’ve been together too long for me to get grossed out by anything that comes out of you, alright? You’re Safe Here with me. Here, take my hand, I’ll steady you.” The leopard grinned with understanding as one ivory hand was extended towards his mate, which the wolf reluctantly took as he stood up next to the bed, and Levi tossed his mate’s muscular arm over his shoulder to brace him while they shuffled towards the bathroom together.

Once they had crossed the threshold inside the bathroom door, Remi scuttled to the toilet to sit heavily on the closed lid, his head spinning from the short walk to their bathroom. For a moment, he was silenced by overwhelming nausea, having to hold his breath as saliva pooled into his mouth, but once he was able to breathe for a second with his eyes closed, the churning of his stomach finally stopped. He breathed a sigh of relief, which just turned into the same thing all the others had, and he coughed harshly several times into his fist.

“Here, baby, if this is too much for you we can wait until you’re a little better, okay? I don’t want you to pass out..” The leopard asked cautiously as he ran one of his hands up and down the wolf’s back.

“Ndo, ndo, I’mb good..” The larger man sniffed sharply, trying to clear the obstruction from his nasal passages, still to obviously no avail. “Oh, Sorry— you probably deed these off of mbe, huh?” Remi asked in a haze, tugging at the hem of his sweat pant that were still very visibly damp from his sweat.

“Rem— lemme help you, alright?” Levi placed his palm on one of the wolf’s toned biceps to stop his efforts and the canine jumped slightly, startled from the physical contact. It took Remi a second to understand; an expression that resembled that creepy friend of Alistar’s had taken over the raven haired males features, his face completely blank and his eyes almost vacant looking as he stared at the leopard for a second, the wheels in his head turning.

“I’ll help you get undressed, Rem— I don’t want you to hurt yourself..” Levi assured the confused wolf, who finally seemed to understand what was being said to him and released his grip on the fabric of his sweats. He then ever so slowly stood from the top of the toilet, his knees visibly shaking from the effort as he stood there.

Quickly but carefully, Levi peeled the damp sweats off of his mate, and then his underwear as the larger male leaned on the cat’s shoulders for support. All of the wet clothing was tossed onto the bathroom sink one by one until the wolf stood there naked, shivering madly.

“Okay baby, I’ll help you get in, too, okay?” He smiled genuinely as he finally stood to match the wolf’s height and Remi wrapped his arm around his mates neck for stability. Slowly, the smaller male helped the wolf lowered himself into the lukewarm water of the bathtub until the water almost completely enveloped his large body.

At first he didn’t even notice the difference in the Vicks bath water, the thick wall of congestion behind his eyes seemly impenetrable. But after a few moments of relaxing his aching muscles in the warm water all the way up to his chin, the intense scent of eucalyptus and mint that Vicks gave off slowly began to creep into his nose. In an instant, the pressure within his sinuses began to decrease, but the adjustment of the wet cement within his nose reignited the tickle that had laid dormant since his last overwhelming fit.

“Oh— oh god?” Remi asked outwardly, sounding almost panicked as a thick string of snot dripped down his face from one nostril, and the other threatened to do the same. Mortified, the wolf tried to snort back the obstruction while pressing the heel of his palm back against the bridge of his nose, but by this point, the dam had broken and there was nothing that would stop the mess from flowing from his overly sore nose at this point.

And oh god it fucking tickled so badly..

“L-Levi.. cehh— cad I have a tihh— tissue? Toilet p-paper, sombethigg—?” Remi asked frantically, waving one hand at the leopard while he pinched his nostrils closed with the other hand, his dim green eyes squinting through tears.

In a panic, the leopard scanned the bathroom for something he could give to Remi, but the toilet paper dispenser sat in the corner behind the toilet with a sad, empty tube on it. “Sorry babe.. I told you I have to go run some errands when it’s a more appropriate time..” the leopard tried to defend himself, but Remi was preoccupied with keeping his breathing steady, his eyes squeezed shut and thumb and index finger squeezing the raw, pink flesh of his nose.

“you want me to get the paper towels from the room?“

The wolf couldn’t even open his eyes to answer his mate’s question; he was only able to nod frantically, his breath snagging harshly in his throat a few times despite all of his efforts.

Quickly, Levi hopped up from his spot on the side of the bathtub, and dashed down the hallway into their room. His bright blue eyes scanned the messy room trying to locate the roll of paper towels he had given Remi as quickly as he could, but when he finally managed to find them stuffed under one of the wolf’s hundreds of pillows, he was too late.

“Hd’IZTSsHHhh’ih! HEhH’eEZSCHhh’iiEW! HEHH’DZSCHh’iEEw! Hih—hiihhh— hh—“ the last sneeze caught, leaving the raven haired male gasping as the tickle began to back off and climb back into his sinuses, refusing to give him the much needed release. A soft, pitiful whimper could be heard from the bathroom as the wolf scrambled to clean his face of any of the thick ropes of snot that had just embarrassingly exploded from his throbbing face before Levi came back into the room. He swiped his wet forearm against the dripping mess that was his poor nose, and Remi couldn’t help but grimace in disgust at the size of the trail that was left on his skin afterward, quickly using the water around him to rinse it off.

When Levi finally returned to the bathroom again, his expression displayed only empathy as he ripped off a few sheets of the mulched paper and as gently as he could, he cleaned up the wolf’s face before holding the sheets gently over Remi’s bright red nose.

“Blow for me? I promise, I’ll get you those lotion tissues in a few hours to save your poor nose.” The leopard flashed a compassionate smile down at his mate, who although under no normal circumstances would he willingly let the cat help him blow his nose, but his head swam and he was beginning to feel rather lightheaded and delirious from the fever that still burned across his cheeks and forehead brightly, even from underneath his thick black mane of hair. These were not normal circumstances.

Complying without a single snarky comment, Remi forcefully blew his nose into the wad of paper towels in the others hand, completely soaking it in one breath.

“That’s it, Rem—“ Levi mewled his encouragement, gently wiping his mates nose again afterward as to not irritate the red and raw skin with such a rough material.

“Hghnnn..” the wolf shuddered violently as he leaned against the back of the tub.

“Okay, let’s hurry up and get you clean so I can get you back in bed, yeah?” Levi asked with a small giggle, tossing the sodden paper into the trash. Reaching to the side to pull out a blue bottle of shampoo, the cat squirted a small amount of the viscous liquid into his palms and rubbed them together before gently beginning to work the shampoo into his mate’s thick raven colored hair.

The wolf felt as if he was put into a trance. With a soft hum, Remi closed his eyes and let Levi run his long, thin fingers across every inch of his scalp as he lathered up all of the shampoo, nearly willing him to sleep again.

Once the cat was satisfied, he took the shower head off of the wall it usually sat on, and when he reached over his mate to turn the water on, he couldn’t help but steal a glance at the wolf. He breathed a gentle laugh at how content the other looked, admiring the man for a moment before returning to business.

Warm water began to flow gently from the handheld shower head, and Levi made quick work of rinsing all of the soap from the wolf’s hair before hanging it up on the wall again. By this time, Remi was barely conscious, his head resting back against the lip of the bathtub with a half lidded haze clouding over his features. He would help lift his own limbs when he was instructed to so Levi could gently wash his tanned skin, but that was about all of the help he was able to give.

Finally, after what seemed like an entire lifetime, Remi was clean and rinsed off completely. Leaning over his mate again, Levi pulled the cover off of the drain in the bottom of the bathtub and the water began to loudly get sucked away from between the wolf’s feet.

“Okay my love, let’s get you dried off and back in bed, okay? Can you stand up while I go get your towel and change of clothes?” The leopard asked seriously, afraid leaving the wolf alone for 5 seconds would mean certain death for the canine.

Slowly becoming slightly more lucid, Remi managed a slow nod before lifting his arms to the sides of the large tub and using all of his remaining strength to will his body to a standing position while Levi dashed off to pull the warm towel and the comfortable clothes from the drier that he had prepared for the wolf.

When he managed to come back into the bathroom again, he was greeted by a naked Remi who stood shivering aggressively on the tile in front of the tub. “Here baby, this should feel a little better..” Levi tossed one of the towels over Remi’s head as he approached and the canine moaned happily, his shaky hands coming up to grasp the towel and pull it tighter around his torso. Levi had another warm towel that he used to tenderly dry his mates legs, before having him sit on the top of the toilet. The leopard continued to dry the rest of the other’s body very gently until the only thing left wet was his dark, thick hair.

As his mate compassionately took care of him, the wolf continued to become more and more like himself again, and by time Levi was ready to help him get into the clean clothing he was brought, Remi was far more alert and present. Relief washed over the leopard to see the other in seemingly better spirits.

Rising to his feet a little faster than he should have, Remi had to pause for a second and brace himself with one hand against the doorframe. Recovering with a slow shake of his head, the wolf took the pair of socks and clean underwear from his mates hand and proceeded to clumsily pull them onto his lanky body. Once finished, he glanced back at Levi with a bigger smirk than before, almost like he hadn’t just been nearly comatose in the bathtub a few short minutes ago.

“I’ll let you help mbe put these odn though..” the wolf chuckled, stumbling backward a bit and sitting back down on the top of the toilet seat rather roughly.

Levi couldn't help but chuckle softly at Remi's playful remark, his heart swelling with relief and adoration. He understood that the wolf's attempt at humor was a way to mask his vulnerability, to lighten the weight of their situation.

With a soft smile, the smaller man nodded and approached his mate with the sweatpants in one hand, and the tshirt thrown over his shoulder. He kneeled down in front of the wolf, and gently guided Remi's feet into the openings, carefully pulling the fabric up his toned, trembling legs. Each movement was slow and deliberate, ensuring that he didn't cause any discomfort to the weak wolf.

As Levi slid the shirt over Remi’s head, his fingers brushed against Remi's hot, flushed skin, causing a shiver to run up the wolf's spine. Once the shirt was pulled down over the wolf’s head and adjusted around his torso, Levi stepped back to admire his handy work with a grin.

“Perfect!” Levi squealed, to which Remi couldn’t help but blush.

Finally reaching for the hairdryer and turning it on, its familiar whir filling the room as he positioned himself behind Remi. The wolf's damp hair cascaded down his neck in disarray, strands clinging stubbornly to his flushed skin. Levi combed through the small tangles with his fingers before using the hairdryer to blow warm air through the thick raven colored strands, drying each section of Remi's hair with delicate patience as the wolf sat more still than the leopard had ever seen him.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Levi finished drying Remi's hair and set the hairdryer aside. With a gentle hand, he turned Remi's face to the side and pressed a tender kiss to his fevered cheek. The wolf let out a soft sigh, feeling the warmth of his mate's lips against his skin. It was moments like these that made him feel truly loved and cared for, reminding him how lucky he was to have the leopard in his life; let alone being actually LOVED by such a compassionate, outstanding man, when Remi was so… well, Remi.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed,” Levi said softly, helping Remi off the toilet seat and leading him over to their bed. As they walked slowly through the hall, Remi stumbled slightly, his weakened body still struggling to find its balance. But with Levi's supportive arm around him, he managed to make it over to their bed without falling.

As they approached the bed, Levi noticed that the sheets were still damp from where Remi had been lying earlier. He knew he had to change them before they could snuggle up together.

“Shit, hold on babe. Lemme change these first, okay?” the leopard asked, to which the wolf nodded slowly as he rubbed at his nose with a soft clicking noise and sniffled . With a sense of urgency, he quickly pulls off the old linens in a flurry, balling up the fabric and tossing it in the laundry hamper in the corner. The leopard then rifles through the closet, selecting a fresh set of sheets in a cool grey hue that he knows Remi loves. As he makes the bed, Levi smooths out every wrinkle and tucks the edges in neatly, wanting to create a comfortable haven for his recovering mate.

With the bed ready, Levi helps Remi over and eases him down onto the mattress.

With a contented sigh, the wolf sunk into the pillows and closed his eyes in pure bliss. He couldn't help a small smile to tug at the corners of his mouth at how considerate Levi was being, taking care of him even in this small way. He honestly didn’t deserve the leopard by his side.

Climbing into bed next to his mate, Levi and pulled the covers up over their bodies. He wrapped a freckled arm around Remi's waist and pulled him close until their bodies were pressed together tightly.

For the first time, Remi buried his face into the crook of the smaller man’s armpit, his lanky frame awkwardly tangling into his mates.

“Thanks.. for everything.,” Remi murmured against Levi's chest, avoiding eye contact with the other as he fidgeted with a button on the leopard’s shirt.

Levi sighed softly with a small smile and shook his head. “It’s my pleasure, Acushla. I’d move mountains for you… So making you feel a little better when you’re sick is the least I can do, alright? I fucking love you, Remington Connors— in ways I don’t think you’ll ever understand.” The leopard stated matter of factly, like it was already something well known to everyone except Remington, before kissing his mate’s warm forehead passionately. His lips lingered against the wolf’s flesh for a few moments before finally pulling back to flash a genuine smile.

Nuzzling into the warmth and comfort of the leopard's embrace, Remi returned his mate’s smile before snuffling softly against his wrist. “I fucking love you too, Levi Anderson.” Remi attempted to reply with determination, although he was very clearly fighting his heavy eyelids from closing.

“Get some rest baby.. don’t worry, you’re safe here with me.” The leopard whispered quietly against the other’s temple. Content in each other’s arms, they both fell asleep, their breathing synchronized as they lay intertwined with one another.

Thanks so much for reading! If you’re so inclined, I really appreciate getting feedback, so let me know if there’s something you liked, or even something I can improve on next time! 𖧧 ࣪ . ִֶָ ๋