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hockeynoses · 6 months ago

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and call me in the morning (Ste/ddie snz fic)

Summary: A college AU where Steve is sick and in order to get excused from class, he has to get a doctor's note from the university clinic. Eddie is a med student who works at the clinic.

Rating: PG-13? Nothing much going on here other than admiring each other's looks. No character has the kink. 3.7k words.

Warnings: Mess. Coughing. Mention of contagion, but none actually happens.

Notes: Inspired by gemsden's post. I've always had a bit of a medical kink just lurking under the surface and, well, this happened. I'm happy it pulled me out of my writer's block! The title is from Coconut by Harry Nilsson.

After the nurse weighs him, shows him to the private room, takes his blood pressure, and leaves, Steve has nothing more to do than stare at the bland, cream-colored walls and try not to fall asleep on the exam table. He fights the urge to lay down on the crinkly, uncomfortable paper, praying that this won’t take long, and he can be back home in bed as soon as possible.

The stuffiness in his nose that has been bothering him for days once again reaches capacity, and he feels a tell-tale tickle which gives him just enough warning to fumble a tissue out of the small pack he has shoved in his pocket. ��kknnnxXGT!” The fountain of snot that pours out is miraculously all contained in the one feeble tissue. He groans and a couple coughs escape him. This cold, or whatever the hell it is, is just starting to settle into his chest.

The trash can on the other side of the room is too far away for his aching body, so he sets the used tissue to the side of him on the exam table. The waxy cover always reminds him of the kind of paper used for takeout orders. He feels enough like a vegetable right now that someone could just wrap him up like a sandwich and put him out of his misery.

Fiddling with the packet of tissues, he sees he only has two left. There’s a full box sitting on the counter across the room, but he doesn’t want to embarrass himself by hoarding the entire box like some kind of snot monster. He should be able to control his nose for the next ten minutes or so.

After a few more minutes of waiting, there’s a knock on the door. It swings open to reveal a guy about his age, with long curly hair pulled back into a bun, and the biggest brown eyes Steve has ever seen. The dark ink on his forearms swirls all the way up his biceps until it disappears under his scrubs. Steve instantly feels his face warm, and he’s about ten times more embarrassed to be here. He thought he was going to be examined by some sweet middle-aged lady, not this bad-boy doctor that sends heat crawling up his neck.

---

Eddie enters the exam room and commends himself on his professional conduct when the first thing he notices is how awful the guy on the table looks, rather than how gorgeous he is. The third thought that runs through his head is how familiar he looks. This has to be the guy that stops by the coffee shop where Eddie studies.

He’s shaken from his thoughts when the guy curls forward with a powerful sneeze that rips through him, thankfully caught in a waiting tissue.

“Whoa,” Eddie says, stepping over to the counter and immediately donning a surgical mask. The guy looks truly miserable and Eddie’s not trying to fuck around with this.

“Hey,” the guy says weakly into his bundle of drenched tissues.

“Hi,” Eddie says, “It’s, uh…” He looks at the chart in his hands. “Steve, right?”

“Yeah.” Steve follows his resigned answer with a clearing blow that rips through the otherwise quiet room.

“So, you’re not feeling too hot, Steve?” Eddie pulls the swivel stool to the center of the room and takes a seat.

“Not really, bman.” Steve pulls the tissue from his face, gives a hearty but futile sniff, and sets the dirty thing on the table next to him. “I just dneed a doctor’s dnote for class. The professor is such a hardass.”

“Yeah, I totally get it,” Eddie says as he pointedly places the trash can next to Steve, who sheepishly tosses the soiled kleenex. “It still looks like you’ve caught a hell of a bug, though, so I gotta do the required examination.”

Steve smothers several wracking coughs into his elbow. When he emerges, he looks even more wiped out. “That’s fine.” It comes out as Thad’s find, and Eddie shouldn’t be charmed by how the congestion mangles his words, but he is. He gets the feeling that he’ll find anything this guy does to be charming.

“Alright, let me get your temperature first.” He grabs the infrared thermometer from the counter, then, noting the nearly empty packet of Kleenex Steve has on him, also grabs the box of tissues, and places it next to Steve on the exam table. “You look like you might need these.”

“Thaggs,” Steve manages, and now Eddie is close enough to see the flush that blooms high on his cheeks, under a constellation of beauty marks. Is he covered in them all over? Eddie mentally chides himself for the thought, forcing himself to focus. He stands over Steve, aiming the temperature gun at his forehead.

“W-wait- I - iihh!” Steve’s eye flutter and he leans back as far as he can, twisting to the side. “hih-HIH’RUUSSHHH’IUE!” The sneeze is heaved into his cupped hands, no doubt contaminating them with contagious spray. “Ow.” His poor throat must be scraped raw. Eddie pulls two tissues from the box and hands them over. Steve takes them gratefully, burying his face into the soft, white folds and releasing a sickly, gurgling blow.

“Ogkay,” Steve says as he straightens up, his throat still thick with mucus. Eddie winces in sympathy, taking his temperature while Steve still has the clump of tissues pressed under his chapped nose.

“101. You definitely have a fever.” Eddie makes a note on his chart. “How long have you felt feverish?”

Steve swipes his nose clean, throws the Kleenex into the trash, and answers, “About a day or two…”

“Have you been drinking fluids?”

“Trying to.” Steve covers a wet little cough with his fist. “Bmostly Gatorade… or if my roobmate bmakes bme tea.”

I bet he’s a jock, Eddie thinks at the mention of Gatorade, and tries to ignore the mental image of a healthy Steve running around in short shorts.

“That’s good. How about your appetite?”

“Umb… m-mostly – heh-” he frantically pulls a tissue from the box as Eddie steps further back, eyebrows raised. “heh-KIISSHH’AH! Ugh. ‘Scuse bme. SNF. Bmostly soup.”

“That’ll work. It’s important to stay hydrated and keep up with your meals.” Eddie tries to focus on his damn job and not how adorable Steve looks with his red nose and his sleepy eyes. He wants to take him home and tuck him into bed.

“And the congestion? The sneezing? How long has that been bothering you?”

The mere mention of it has Steve’s nose staging a rebellion. The unrelenting itch causes his breath to start hitching as the tingling spreads. His lungs fill with a stuttered gasp before he’s rocked by a sneeze that sends him lurching forward into his soggy tissue. “Huh-AEXXTSHHH’uu!” Jesus, that sounded like half of it came from his chest. It takes him a moment to come back to himself. He pauses, clearing the mucus from his throat.

“Yikes… That sounded like it hurt. You good?” Eddie’s forehead creases with concern.

“Mmhmm,” Steve answers, although he doubts he’s very convincing, seeing as his response was more of a pathetic pained sound than actual words. He forges on anyway.

“Idt started about a day and a half ago a-and iihh – hih – it won’t – sto- hah – HA’ESSSHHH’uh! SNF. Ugh, God, idt won’t stob.” He grabs another kleenex to clean himself up. “I feel like saying I’b stuffed ubp is an understatemend.” He snuffles up the liquid threatening to spill out his nostrils, the sound of it somehow both syrupy and jam-packed at the same time.

“What about headaches? Body aches?”

“Y-yeah – I – h-hang ond - hah-K’GGSSHHoo! Heh-D’TSHH! Oh bmy god.” The poor, crumpled tissue that’s now completely sodden is thrown away, immediately replaced by a fresh one, brought up to halt the flow of snot that threatens to run onto his cupid’s bow. “Sorry for beigg disgusting. This cold is killing bme.”

“You’re fine,” Eddie says with a smile that’s mostly hidden by the mask. “It comes with the territory.”

Steve gives a weak smile and nods. Eddie’s candor helps open the floodgates and he continues, “Umb. So yeah, bmy head’s beedn hurting for a couple days. And bmy body hurts, but that’s probably the fever. It’s just –” He smothers a crackling cough into his wad of tissues. “It’s jusdt beedn shitty all around.”

“Sorry, man. I feel for you.” Eddie meets his eyes before scribbling some notes down on his chart. “Hopefully we can suggest something for that cough at least, and have you feeling better soon. Some Tylenol would help with that fever, too.”

“Thaggs.” Steve’s eyes track Eddie’s nimble hands as he writes. The fever must be loosening his tongue because he asks, “Hey, you look kind of fabmiliar. Do…do you - hih’AEESSH’iue! Do you go to the coffee shobp around the cordner?”

Eddie’s heart stumbles over itself and he looks up to meet Steve’s glassy eyes.

“I do! I thought I’d seen you before. I study there a lot because it’s so close, and I concentrate better with a little bit of chaos, you know?”

“For sure. I stob there before bmy night class sobetimes. They have really good lattes.”

“And those croissants, oh my god. Sometimes I think they’re the only thing getting me through med school.”

Steve laughs at that, which of course turns into a hoarse cough that he has to race to cover with his elbow. Eddie looks at him with undisguised concern; can feel himself falling fast. He’s going to need to call on every bit of professionalism he possesses to act normal when he has to get up close and personal with this guy.

---

“They let students work in the university clinic?” Steve asks. The fever is making his head swim, but he’s got to learn more about this guy. If he says anything stupid, he can blame it on the fact that he’s sick as a dog. When he would sneak glances at this guy – he reads his nametag – Eddie Munson – in the café, he’d practically salivate over his tatted forearms peeking out from his rolled-up sleeves. He usually had his hair back in a messy bun if he was studying – wild strands escaping here and there, chewing on the end of his pen, his foot jittering with barely-restrained energy.

“They sure do,” Eddie answers, snapping Steve out of his reverie. “Third- and fourth-year med students do clinical rotations as part of the MD program.” He pulls a tongue depressor from a glass jar on the nearby counter. “Doctor Byers should be in to check my work when we’re done. She’s chill though.” He walks back over to stand in front of Steve. “Now comes the fun part,” he says, wiggling the tongue depressor in his fingers.

“Do we have to?” Steve scrubs a finger under his raw nose.

“Doctor’s orders, I’m afraid,” Eddie says with a smile that crinkles his eyes.

“F-finde… Let bme j-just – heh - hih…ha'iggSHH’IUE!”

“Get all those sneezes out?”

“Y-yeah – hih - gshHT’Chuh! kx’GSSHT’iiew!”

“You ready?” Eddie asks when Steve stills, blinking above the barricade of tissues pressed desperately to his face.

“Uh huh.” Steve fights against the perpetual tingle in his sinuses by snorting as much of the mess back as he can.

“Just try not to sneeze on me,” Eddie jokes.

Steve flushes, mortified that that’s even a possibility. He’s been eyeing this guy for weeks - why couldn’t they have met under normal circumstances that weren’t designed specifically to humiliate him?

“I’ll try.” Steve tries to sound reassuring, but who’s he kidding – judging by the past couple days, the likelihood of him controlling his nose is slim to none.

“Okay, open your mouth.”

Steve does, relieved that he can blame his warm cheeks on the fever. Eddie is right in his face, and Steve doesn’t know where to look. Half his concentration is spent on not staring at his chocolate brown eyes, and the other half is trying to not cough all over him. He should’ve brought some fucking water with him, or stopped at the café for some hot tea.

All the thoughts fly from his head when Eddie crooks a couple fingers under his chin to tilt his head up for a better view. A sharp curl of desire sizzles at the base of his spine, his insides turning gooey at being handled in such a way, with such intense scrutiny – like he’s a particularly interesting bug under a microscope.

Eddie tsks. “Your throat’s pretty red, and a bit swollen. No surprise there.” He pulls back and tosses the tongue depressor. “How long has it been sore for?”

“A couple –” He’s cut off by a chesty, rattling cough muffled into his cupped hands. “Sorry,” he rasps. “A couple days ago. Idt was the first symptom I had, other than - Kngxxt’shoo! – other than beigg tired.” While he grabs a handful of tissues to clean himself up, Eddie pulls the stethoscope free from where it rests over his shoulders. Steve groans inwardly. He hates this part. It’s always so awkward having someone listen to every sound you make – inside and out – in a silent room. He gives a viscous blow into the Kleenex, hoping to clear out as much sludge as possible. How disgusting must Eddie think he is right now? Or is this truly just another day at the office for him?

“Ready?” Eddie gestures with the stethoscope. Steve takes off his jacket and fights a shiver. “I’m going to listen to your lungs for a second. Just breathe deep for me, okay?”

“Ogkay.” Steve gives one last small cough into his fist before taking a deep breath. His nose is so stuffed that he’s forced to breathe through his mouth. It’s silent in the room as Eddie shifts the disk on his back from his left lung to his right, his other hand a warm, steadying presence on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve continues to breathe in and out, but as Eddie is about to switch to his front, his breath catches and a deep, wet cough is forced from him. He twists away again, and Eddie gives him space. The cough sets off the irritation in his nose, and he’s helpless against the harsh, scraping sneeze – “hah’ITXXXCH’ah!” – that bursts into the waiting crook of his elbow, the mess of it leaving the fabric damp.

“Christ, I’b so sorry.” He catches his breath and cleans himself up. His voice is starting to go hoarse. “I really don’dt wanna get you sigk.”

“No worries, I think you have whatever has been going around for a while. I’m sure I’ve already been exposed.” He leans into Steve’s space again and sets the cool disk on Steve’s chest. “We definitely don’t want you going to class and spreading this around, though. We’ll get you that doctor’s note, no problem.”

“That’s a relief. Thaggs.”

“Happy to help. Another deep breath for me?”

Steve does as he’s asked, focusing on the feel of Eddie’s hands on him as a sense of calm sinks into his bones, the tension inside him unspooling. The room is quiet enough for him to hear Eddie’s breath echoing his own. If he wasn’t so goddamn stuffed up, he’s sure he’d be able to smell the salt of his skin. As much as Steve hates being poked and prodded when he’s sick, it turns out it’s not that bad when Eddie’s the one doing it.

“Sounds like it’s moving into your lungs,” Eddie says, and Steve only nods dazedly, surrendering to the exhaustion and the feeling of his mind floating somewhere above him. “Some over the counter cough medicine would help with that.”

“I can ask Robin to pick me up sombe,” Steve says, thinking out loud. Then he clarifies, “Robin’s my roobmate.”

“Well, that would be nice of her.” Eddie loops the stethoscope back around his neck and moves to stand in front of Steve. “I’m going to check if your lymph nodes are swollen.”

Steve sits up straight and tilts his head up. The cool touch of Eddie’s hands against the fever-hot skin of his neck is enough to make him shiver again. He’s going to melt into puddy if he’s not careful. His eyes threaten to flutter shut as Eddie gently prods at him, and Steve must really be out of it now, because he’s letting his eyes roam greedily all over the other man – his broad shoulders, dark eyelashes and lightly freckled skin. There are a couple loose curls that Steve wants to brush off his forehead, and his thumb itches to press into the little furrow of his brow that forms as Eddie concentrates fully on Steve. On getting Steve better.

The words spill out of him without his consent – “Robin is jusdt a roobmate.”

“Oh?” Eddie’s hands still, but he doesn’t remove them from the underside of Steve’s jaw. Steve blinks – realizes what he just said.

“I bmean – yeah. She’s – I was just clarifying. Only roobmates.”

Eddie pauses, his eyes searching for something in Steve’s gaze. “Good to know.” His tone is genuine and deliberately light.

Eddie continues his exam, gentle fingers exploring along Steve’s skin. Steve swallows against the dryness in his throat, sniffing in an attempt to keep his nose from running. Another desperate, ominous sniffle has his damn nose prickling again. Steve reacts in a flash – pressing his hand into Eddie’s solid chest to push him out of the way before inhaling sharply and curling into himself as a sneeze tears out of him and sprays over his lap. “Hiih-ZZSSHHESSH! G-god, sorr-eee – heh - huh’GGSSHH’IEW!” His hands are loosely steepled in front of his face, not enough to completely contain the spray, but enough to hopefully give him some semblance of privacy so Eddie doesn’t have to watch such a disgusting display of illness. Not like he hasn’t had a front-row seat this whole time. “Fugk.” He reaches for the tissues as gracefully as he can. “Sorry, this is disgusdtigg.”

“It’s okay, Steve. It’s not your fault - you’ve got one hell of a cold.”

“Still,” Steve insists, then marvels at the fact that against all odds, Eddie looks charmed.

“Alright tough guy, I think it’s safe to say we can write you that doctor’s note now.” Eddie winks. Steve doesn’t know whether to blush, grumble at him, or thank him profusely. He somehow finds a middle ground.

“Thagg you.” The words are a self-deprecating groan into his now ever-present fistful of tissues.

“We’ll email you a copy, but they can print it for you when you check out, if that helps.” Eddie smiles under his mask, and Steve wishes he could see it. There’s a knock at the door, and Eddie tells whoever it is to come in. It’s Dr. Byers. Joyce, Steve gleans from her nametag when she gets closer.

“Hey guys. How is everything going in here?” She steps into the room and Eddie hands her the chart.

“Good. It looks like he’s got that nasty cold that’s been going around. I told him we could get him an attendance note for class, and recommend some over-the-counter cold meds. And lots of fluids and rest, of course.” He sends a look Steve’s way, who returns it with a nod, their eyes catching and holding. Joyce studies the chart a moment longer.

“Everything looks good. Do you have any questions, Steve? Anything else that you have concerns about?”

“No, I don’t - hah-iiGhhShoo! ‘Scuse mbe. I don’t thigg so.”

“Alright, if there’s nothing else, I believe you’re free to go,” she says with a sweet smile. Steve is hit with an odd flash of happiness that Eddie has such a nice mentor to work with.

“If anything gets worse, come back and see us, for sure.” Eddie hastily adds, his hands clicking his pen with excess energy.

“I will. Thaggs again,” he says for good measure. As he stands up to leave, Eddie’s voice rings bright in the dull room.

“And hey – next time you see me at the café, stop and say hi, yeah?”

Steve’s heart gives a silly little lurch, warmth spreading through him. “Yeah, of course. I’ll – iihh - hih’KISSHH’uu! SNF. I’ll see you there.”

A fond laugh rumbles from Eddie’s chest. “Preferably when you’re feeling better. You’re like a walking biohazard right now.”

Steve groans and rolls his eyes. “Ugh, you don’dt have to rebind bme.”

“I know, I’m just giving you a hard time.” When Eddie turns back to Joyce, she’s looking between them with a question in her eyes. He huffs an awkward laugh and rubs the back of his neck. “Well, take care Steve. I’ll see you around!” He hesitates a moment longer before giving them both a little wave and heading out the door to his next patient.

Joyce shares a look of friendly exasperation with Steve. “He’s quite the character, but he’s going to make a great doctor someday.”

“Seembs like it.” Steve looks to the door Eddie has already disappeared from. He’s a romantic at heart in spite of himself, and he already knows he’ll be imagining how Eddie is spending the rest of his day while he’s laid up in bed fighting this thing. He wants to believe that Eddie will be daydreaming of him too.

“Come on, I’ll show you where to check out.” Joyce leads the way out of the room.

Steve follows, already doing the mental math to figure out the timing of when he’ll be feeling better and when Eddie will be studying at the café. What should he wear? Which outfit would Eddie like best? Maybe he can try to find him on social media. After all, he’s going to have plenty of time to lay around with nothing else to do.

He has no idea what the fuck he’s going to do yet, but the thought of seeing Eddie again pleases him more than he knows what to do with. Once he finishes checking out and heads out the doors, he lets himself imagine the smile he’ll get from Eddie in a few days. Warm and easy, with just enough of an edge to send Steve’s pulse racing.

#snzblr #snzfic #snzfics #snz fics #snz fic #st/eve ha/rrington #tumblr is trying to fuck with my formatting in regards to the bold and italics

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grayskies2525 · 2 months ago

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The Reluctant Reunion |M/M| Chapter 1/13

This a story about my OC's Connor and Felix.

Felix finds himself out in public with a cold that's significantly worsening minute by minute. Before he can flee to his home to wallow alone in misery, though, he runs into his ex-boyfriend, author Connor Hayes.

Word Count: 3,195

Link to all chapters: The Reluctant Reunion

Felix stands with the paperback book open, both hands fiercely grasping the front and back cover, his gaze eyelids shuttering open and closed again and again. He feels his mouth involuntarily part as small gasps come out in a rhythmic pattern. He is not pleased by the highly audible quality the gasps had to them — subtle, they are not. He scrunches up his nose, but all this seems to do is send the army of ants he would swear had invaded his nostrils, deeper into his nasal passages.

“HEH —” his breath hitches once again.

Felix concentrates on doing his best to take small breaths, intending for the breaths to go along on a smooth, uneventful trip through his sinuses. He has, after all, been breathing for thirty-two years, at this point. It shouldn’t be a hard concept for his body to grasp.

HeeEEHHH NGT’CHOOOOOO!

Felix winces and he feels his cheeks burn. He stares at the open book that appears slightly different than it had just moments before — now with visible droplets coating the pages. He closes the book and sheepishly puts it back in its rightful place. He spares a moment trying to recall exactly how long cold viruses could live on paper surfaces. He hoped it wasn’t too long and that nobody else with a proclivity toward non-fiction books about crocodiles would find themselves opening the book up to the same page any time soon.

He was honestly fine an hour ago. “Fine” possibly wasn’t the best adjective to describe his state, he could amend, but he definitely hadn’t been sneezing. If he’d been sneezing, he’d never have left his house. It’d just been a slight runny nose, which wasn’t at all unusual for him during a morning in winter. In fact, he’d still be clinging on with desperation that he was, indeed, perfectly healthy, if it wasn’t for his throat. What had begun as a slight scratchy sensation upon waking up, has turned into what could only be described as painful. It becomes more clear by each second to Felix, especially as he sniffles back an alarming amount of liquid, that he is not well enough to be out in public.

“HEH’CHOOO!”

Felix, once again, found himself wincing. He looked at his arm, which, thankfully had caught most of the spray, but he knew a fair bit had to be circulating throughout the air, as well. He determines not only is he coming down with a cold, he is coming down with a bad cold. A bad cold that provokes sudden, unstoppable sneezes, which happen to be Felix’s very least favorite types of colds. It’s not that he enjoys colds, by any means, but there is definitely a difference between spending a few days blowing his nose while watching movies on the couch, and whatever he now feels himself coming down with. Felix can’t remember the last time he’d failed to stifle a sneeze.

As a rule, when in public, Felix never lets a sneeze go freely, unless he has a tissue available. As a high school Biology teacher, he has a general knowledge of the ease at which viruses could spread, and he has no interest in sending his gross droplets of viral doom out into the world to possibly infect others. So, typically, he holds back his sneezes as best as he can, letting out only a loud “H’gnxt,” sound that inevitably provokes such questions as “What the fuck was that noise you just made?” or “Was that a sneeze? Or a hiccup??” or “Did you know you can bust your eardrums that way?” Regardless of how undignified his stifles make him feel, he feels much less dignified when he fully gives into their force. The attention makes his skin crawl and he much prefers the reactions to his stifles than the reactions of his full-blown sneezes. It’s never been difficult for him to hold back— he doesn’t even have to pinch his nose. It’s always just a quick bob of his head, and then he moves along with his life.

Except now.

“Heeeehhhh — HEHH —Hehh Ngk’CHOO!”

It’s becoming increasingly clear to Felix that he has to go. He needs to leave the bookstore he’d never had any business walking into, and he needs to do it quickly. While that one had been caught in his elbow, it was exceptionally productive, and the sight of his flannel sleeve makes him nearly gag. He knows the best course of action is to go home, lie down, and desperately clutch his tissue box, feeling sorry for himself, as he waits for the virus to leave his system.

It’s an especially busy day at the bookstore, which is unfortunate for him. His sniffles — which, at that moment, have become a nearly constant addition to his existence — have a deep, harsh quality to them. He knows the sound can not be mistaken as anything other than the sound of someone absolutely riddled with a cold. He recognizes the way his nose is incessantly running as a truly bad sign, as, again, he’d been effectively fine just an hour ago. He frowns as he considers the quick onset of his symptoms. He, once again, scrunches up his nose, hoping to send the oncoming tickle away so he can exit the bookstore without making any more of a spectacle of himself.

“Heh-HUH-KNNG’CHHOO!” Felix sniffles after this unexpectedly congested and violent sneeze. Four sneezes within a few minutes is also not a good sign.

“Bless you!” exclaims a woman shopping nearby. Through his sneezy haze, he hadn’t realized anyone was near him.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” he mutters, sniffling, since apparently even a slight amount of dignity was not in the cards for him that day.

“You sound like you’ve got that nasty cold going around. I’ve just gotten over it, myself. I thought I’d never stop sneezing. Nearly everyone I know came down with it.”

Felix gazes at her through watery eyes, intending to mutter something noncommittal and then move on and finally leave the store.

Instead what comes out is “Eck-nngg’tCHOO!” which he barely manages to cover with his hands. He sniffles. And sniffles again. And sniffles yet again.

The woman smiles sympathetically at him. “Yep, that was me just a few days ago. You should be in bed praying for the sweet release of death. What’s so important that it’s got out here while so sick?” She pauses, brows furrowed. “Oh! Are you here for the signing, too?”

Now it’s Felix’s turn to furrow his brows. “Signing?” he asks, hating the way his congestion seems to have impeded his ability to pronounce his ‘n’s.

“Oh, yeah, there’s a book signing today that’s supposed to happen in, like, 10 minutes or something. By that sci-fi author. What’s his name? Connor…. Connor something. Connor Hamilton? Connor Haven…. That’s not right. It’s on the tip of my tongue. I hate it when that happens. I’m so close to figuring it out. It’s definitely Connor something. But haven’t you seen the signs everywhere? That’s why it’s so busy in here.”

Felix listens as the friendly woman’s voice continues on, but his mind gets caught up in the beginning of her ramblings when she mentions the name “Connor” in the same sentence as “sci-fi author.”

“Um,” he starts, and pauses to sniffle and swipes his nose across his sleeve. “Is it… Is it Connor Hayes?” he asks, hesitantly, bracing himself for the response he knows is to come.

“Oh my god, thank you! Yes! Connor Hayes. My girlfriend’s read a few of his books and loves them. She was actually the one who wanted to come, but she’s currently laid up with what I’d bet money on is the same cold you have right now. I promised I’d get one of his books signed for her. She’d tried coming herself, but I told her he probably wouldn’t be too thrilled to get sneezed all over - fan, or not.”

It’s at this point, Felix notices the hardcover book she has tucked into her arm. The picture of the aforementioned Connor Hayes smiling up at him from the back cover. He closes his eyes and takes what’s intended to be a deep, calming breath. He should have known better.

“‘N’gnnkkkchoo! G’nnKCHOO!”

Both sneezes are released aggressively into his hands, which are currently formed into a tent around his nose and mouth — a gesture he has no plans of letting go of any time soon. He meets the woman’s gaze, hoping to convey the message of please, if you have any human decency at all, go far away and never think about this moment again.

His telepathy skills, however, are clearly on the fritz because this is not what she does. “Oh my goodness! Hold on, I’ve got you covered. Just wait a second,” she says as she frantically digs through her purse. She finally digs out a wad of tissues. A literal wad.

Felix, hands still cupped over his nose and mouth, skeptically looks at this stranger as she holds out crumpled tissues for him to apparently use.

“Oh! They’re clean, I promise. I’d just gotten in the habit last week of grabbing tissues from the box and stuffing them in my purse before I left the house. Seriously, they’re clean.”

Felix notices the way she’s eying the tissues carefully, as though she’s not actually as sure as she’s claiming she is. Felix is concerned for all of three seconds before his breath starts hitching in a wildly embarrassing way. He immediately reaches out one hand toward the tissue wad of dubious cleanliness, and all but shoves them into his face as he violently gives into the tickle that had been pestering him.

“HAHHH-MM'pt'CHOOO!” It scrapes through his throat, and he has no choice but to blow his nose, which is something he can’t remember ever doing in public before. He and the woman both grimace at the sound.

“Uh, Jesus, sorry about that. And, um, thanks for the tissues,” he says, sending a soft smile to the woman.

“Oh my god, don’t worry about it. Like I said, I’ve been there. It’s a nasty cold, for sure. What you need to do is rest a ton and drink a lot of water.” She pauses looking over Felix’s shoulder. “Holy shit…. That’s him, I think. Connor Hanes! He’s coming toward us. Why would he be coming toward us? Kate would freak out if she were here right now.”

“Hayes, not Hanes,” Felix corrects, absentmindedly, as he debates his next course of action.

He could just walk away without turning around and pretend he had no clue about the signing, or about the fact that Connor was apparently walking his way. He could turn around and smile at Connor and project to him the impression that he is doing quite well and hasn’t, in fact, spent the last year grieving the loss of what he’d thought was the great love of his life. He could take the passive aggressive route and say “Oh, Connor! I’m so surprised to see you back in my shitty town with its shitty people. From what I recall, in fairly vivid detail, I might add, you said there was absolutely nothing here worth staying for.” Or he could simply say “Hey, I’ve gotta be on my way. Enjoy your signing!” There’s many things he could do. But he does none of these things.

What he does do is sneeze.

“G’nnnxkkkk’tcCHOO!” The stifle fails in a dramatic way that causes the stranger to avert her gaze away from Connor and instead land on Felix, who once again is hiding his streaming face with his hands.

While she rummages through her purse, most likely looking for more tissues, Felix has no choice but to look up at him. Thankfully a bookstore employee stops Connor in his tracks, appearing to ask him a question.

“Hey, listen, uh….” Felix starts, looking at the woman, then frowns. “Sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“Annie! It’s Annie. Sorry, I’m trying to find more tissues, but I think I’m out. You can probably go up to the checkout and see if they have any. Or, I don’t know, just go into the bathroom.”

Felix shakes his head vigorously, knowing there’s no way this woman (Annie, he reminds himself) can possibly understand the severity of the situation he’s in. But he knows there’s no possibility of going anywhere in that direction because that’s where Connor is. There’s no way he’s walking past Connor. So, he instead walks straight past Annie to ensure he goes in the opposite direction of Connor. Felix has been accused in the past of having questionable decision-making skills. He spares a moment to reflect on how this current decision is a good example of why all those accusations were correct. Because now he’s completely away from any kind of exit that would allow him to actually get away from this nightmare of a situation.

But he continues walking, sighing as he resigns himself to wiping his nose with his sleeve.

“So, what’s up exactly? Are you hiding from him?”

Felix’s heart stops in his chest before he realizes the voice is coming from Annie. He hadn’t realized she’d followed him.

He sniffles and says “No. I mean… No. Hiding from who? Why would I hide from anyone?”

Annie smiles. “Sorry. It’s just that I noticed you were staring at that author. Connor Hanes. And then you just bolted.”

“Hayes. It’s Connor Hayes,” he corrects, automatically, but instantly regrets it.

She stares at him. “Right,” she says, elongating the vowel sound. “See, it’s kind of strange that you are familiar with his name, yet you were shocked when I mentioned he was doing a book signing here. I mean, if you know about him, shouldn’t you be excited to see him? Or, I don’t know, indifferent, at the very least? But you’re running away from him.”

Felix just stares at her — at this woman who he’s known for all of 10 minutes. It’s not that Felix hates talking to people. This woman certainly seems nice. But he has a natural disdain for these types of situations where he’s expected to share information about himself to people he hardly knows. His plan that morning had entailed shopping for books and possibly grabbing a coffee from the connected coffee shop. But, now, he finds himself running away from someone he hasn’t seen in a year while his nose does an impression of a faucet. All while this stranger looks at him, expectantly. He opens his mouth to explain that its personal information he doesn’t feel up to sharing.

“We, uh, we used to date,” Felix finds himself saying, instead.

Annie’s eyes widen. “Oh my god! You dated Connor Hanes?” she practically shouts.

“Shh! Yes, be quiet! Please. I don’t want him to hear us. And that’s…. That’s not his name. I mean, are you doing that on purpose?”

“Oh, shit, sorry. It’s Hayes, right? Anyway, sorry for being loud. Okay, I get why you don’t want him to see you. I mean, no offense or anything, but….” she stops and gestures widely at Felix’s face, as though that explains everything. Felix sighs, as he realizes it probably does.

“Yeah, I get it. I’m not exactly at my best. And our breakup wasn’t on the best of terms. I just want out of here, you know?” Felix explains, pinching the bridge of his nose, wishing he could just vanish from this situation.

“Oh, I get it. He’s an asshole, right? The author types usually are. You think they’re gentle and introspective, but they usually turn out to be pretentious dicks.”

Felix shakes his head. “No, he’s not like that at all. He is gentle. But, also an asshole. It’s just complicated, okay? I’m not ready to talk to him and I need to leave before he sees me.”

He notices Annie is biting her lip “Uh, yeah, totally makes sense, but, uh, he’s definitely already seen you. I mean, he’s been staring at you the whole time. I’m pretty sure the only reason he’s not over here right now is because that bookstore guy is talking to him.”

Felix sighs and hangs his head, at a loss for what to do. “Fuck. I think I’m going to have to talk to him,” he begrudgingly admits.

Annie’s still staring ahead, but she nods, giving him a sad smile. “Yeah, without a doubt. He will not stop looking at you.”

Felix is reminded he’s coming down with a cold when the tickle returns. He is determined to stifle these if it takes every particle of willpower in his body. There’s not a chance he’s letting Connor’s impression of Felix’s current state of life to be as a gross, sniffly mess who sprays sneezes all over bookstores.

He can feel the sneeze making its way through his nasal passages. He feels the need to release getting closer and closer until it reaches its peak and —

“Ngxx’t.”

There’s barely any sound.

Felix smiles at Annie as though she has any emotional investment at all in Felix’s ability to suppress a sneeze. But she apparently does because she smiles and pretends to clap and says “Congrats! That was barely even noticeable!” Then she sharply gasps and returns to digging in her purse. Felix hears the distinct sound of a zipper opening.

“Yes! I knew I had more,” Annie proudly states, as she holds another wad of tissues.

Felix, deciding Annie is the best stranger he’s ever met, grabs the tissues and just blows. He makes sure his back is still turned toward Connor, so when he’s finally no longer occupied, he won’t see Felix evacuating out what has to be his entire soul into the tissues. He blows and blows until the tissues are soggy, vile, and utterly spent. “Okay, Annie, how sick do I sound? On a scale from 1-10? 1 being ‘oh the weather’s cold and it’s making my nose a little sniffly’ and 10 being ‘get away from me you disgusting plague-carrier?’”

“Hmm,” Annie says, clearly considering the question seriously. “Honestly, before that crazy nose blow, I would’ve probably said a six or a seven. I mean, absolutely no offense, but you were congested as hell. But now, I think you could pass for a three. Maybe a two if you try hard enough.”

Finding his spirits uplifted, he smiles at Annie. “Okay, a two. I can manage a two.”

"HAHH - gnxt’CHOOO! Goddammit!”

“Oof… I hate to say it, but you’re definitely back to a 7.” She pauses as he glares at her. “Oh, shit! He’s done talking to that guy. He’s coming over here! Good luck!” she whispers, as she hurries away. He finally turns around and looks up at Connor.

“Felix?”

The name is spoken simply in a soft tone he was once quite familiar with. It sends him back a year ago when the name was said with unmistakable affection. Or, at least, Felix had thought the affection had been unmistakable.

Because in the end, Connor had left Felix as though he’d never mattered at all.

Part 2

#trying to post here is honestly making me feel SO old right now #i spent every waking moment of my early twenties on tumblr but now i have no idea what i'm doing #i'm guessing i just post all 13 chapters of this thing in 13 separate posts but boy does that sound arduous #it would've been a lot easier if i'd been doing it at the same time i'd been posting it to the forum though #snz kink #sneezeblr #sickfic #sneezefic #snz fic

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