I NEED EVERYONE TO HEAR MY L/EON K/ENNEDY SNZ HEADCANONS (I HAVE NEVER PLAYED A RESIDENT EVIL GAME) (I LOVE THIS MAN BUT BE SO FUCKING FOR REAL I DON'T KNOW MUCH BEYOND DEAD LOVED ONES AND ONE LINERS) (SORRY)
learned how to stifle REAL FUCKING QUICK on account of zombies
i see younger l/eon stifling into the heel of his palm a lot
i feel like he eventually learns to stifle hands free (with varying success lets bffr) and then he might duck his head away a little
can i be soooo typical and give him a dust allergy 👉👈 my hand slipped
bffr mans dad jokes are paired with a dad snz. one of those loudass like "hRRSShhhuh!"
that is why he learned how to stifle 😊 in case you were curious
i feel like he used to be particular about covering and he is a LOT less particular now. like before it was either elbow or into wrist/hands if no other choice
now its like, maybe turns his head three degrees to the side lmfao
like he wouldnt snz on someone but he doesnt especially? care??
usually 1-2 snz unless especially irritated (or unless he had to holdback for a while......)
this man cant holdback for shit btw. like he tries, believe me, but without hands he's COOKED
with hands he's less cooked but he'll probably end up giving into a stifle or eight
i legitimately think if he snzd in r/equiem he wouldve thrown his back out. sorry l/eon. extenuating circumstances cooked the man.
l/eon k/ennedy at AT LEAST one point in his life has had a snzing fit and recovered with a STUPID ONE LINER
i cant think of anything but i KNOW this has happened
R/ocky getting all concerned the first time he witnesses G/race having a violent sneezing fit. G/race is trying (and failing) to reassure him that this is normal for him, as he can barely get a word out before gasping into the next sneeze.
i know i reblogged this already but THIS time i'm going to do ✨DIALOGUE✨ about it (putting ro/cky's lines in a different font because that's fun i think)
The sneezing fit is somehow caused by Ro/cky accidentally! Maybe he asked to touch Gr/ace’s squishy human face through that stretchy xenonite film thing, and accidentally have one of his little Ro/cky fingers wonder too close to (or already inside) Gr/ace sensitive nostrils.
And as Gr/ace sneezed he panicked inside his little chamber crying: “NO NO NO RO/CKY TOUCHED GR/ACE FACE EXPLODE BUTTON! RO/CKY KILLED GRACE NO NO NO APOLOGY APOLOGY APOLOGY!” or “RO/CKY TOUCHED GR/ACE AIRWAY NOW GR/ACE AIRWAY SELF DESTRUCTING NO NO NO NO ROCKY APOLOGY!” (While either spinning in circles or huddled in a corner with fear and making little whimpering squeaks)
Thinking about G/race angrily tearing up a piece of paper writing, and then being the not-astronaut he is forgetting to store the paper shreds in a secure location before he turned on zero gravity, causing little shreds to fly around the spaceship.
And maybe he accidentally has one or two of them sucked into his nose unknowingly ;3, causing an extreme sneeze attack and making poor little R/ocky scared.
And once he recovered and explained what happened Rocky won’t stop calling him a dumbass
something something l/ovelace has a space cold or whatever (yes i know thats not how it works thank you dr h/ilbert) and has to let herself be vulnerable in fromt of her new crew <33
💐🎋⏰ for sskk with aku as snzr pls? tysm if you do it!
So this only took me foRevER to answer- I'm so sorry!! But finally got enough motivation to get around to answering these!~
So here's a little drabble, thank you so much for sending in the prompt! And I'm sorry it took so long haha~
First time writing in a while now, so my apologies if it's a little disjointed!~
💐fits
🎋itchy nose/throat/ears
⏰inopportune
from ~This Post~
Word Count: 1.8k
Characters: A/ku, A/tsushi, mentions of D/azai and M/ori
~~~~~~~~~~~~
If anyone else had asked, Akutagawa would have unleashed Rashōmon on them. Or, perhaps still follow the order, but the company would have been refused. Firmly refused. The mortifying ordeal of being out in a public space in the dead of spring is bad enough. But Jinko being here to witness the… results-
“hH- nGT’uh!”
This was definitely Dazai’s doing. No one else had all of the key ingredients to this misery. Sway over Mori’s choices, knowledge of the meeting place, a hold over the weretiger, and most pressingly, knowledge of Akutagawa’s… situation.
“S-sorry, I didn’t catch that, what did you say?”
Akutagawa turns his attention back to the task at hand, pointedly ignoring Atsushi’s question, and direct stare. Obnoxious on the best of days, which this was decidedly not. They had been sent to the park in search of some sort of information.
“What exactly are we looking for?” Akutagawa asks, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his tone.
Atsushi offers an awkward smile in return, hand scratching the back of his head. “Well, see that’s just it, I’m not exactly sure… Dazai said it would be here, and well, he’s never wrong, but…”
“He didn’t say what it was or where it would be.”
“Nope, not a word.”
Akutagawa sighs, flinching against the wave of itch crawling its way down his throat. It’s the worst kind of itch, one so deep in your ears, the back of your throat, you know you couldn’t touch it even if you stuck your entire hand in your mouth.
Settling for a vague noise of disapprovement, he sets off in the general direction of what appears to be a fountain. Good a place as any to start, especially if it puts some distance between the wereti-
“Hey, wait up!” Atsushi calls, tagging along barely behind.
Akutagawa grimaces, but slows his pace.
“Thanks,” Atsushi smiles, plainly false. No one can be that happy having to cluelessly search a park, especially with your rival that’s been trying to kill you since you met. Let’s face it, neither of them was happy to be here.
“You thinking of looking at the fountain?” Atsushi continues, that optimistic tone grating on Akutagawa’s last intact nerve. “That’s where I’d hide information. Easy to describe to people who need to find it.”
“Novice. h’ngKT!”
The stifle leaves him breathless, the buzzing feeling in his sinuses promising this wasn’t even close to the end. Against all odds, Atsushi seems not to have noticed, his attention pulled towards a couple passing by.
“Excuse me, where’s the best place to meet someone here?”
The couple offered some vague responses, Akutagawa ducking into his coat for a semblance of privacy, uttering a few horrible noises. It’s the only way to scratch the back of your throat, touch that itch, but it’s not exactly subtle.
Thankfully no one noticed, Atsushi jumping from person to person, eager smiles and genuine politeness. It’s sickening. Choosing a more contained approach, Akutagawa lets his eyes wander, tracing the landscape.
Mori’s words echo in his mind, “A simple task. After all, you’re a trained member of the Port Mafia. Trained by Dazai no less.”
Somehow a compliment, and a deep burn. The respect their boss continues to hold for the deserter is only rivaled by the desire to be noticed clawing against the back of Akutagawa’s pride. And yet, somehow he picked… him.
The ‘him’ in question is currently half wading through a fountain. Oblivious to the art of subtly, or simply choosing to disregard it entirely.
With a hissed sigh, and a frantic sniffle as the action sets off a new round of itch throughout his swollen sinuses, Akutagawa makes his way towards Atsushi. Everyone around them seems more concerned with staring at him than the one practically swimming in a fountain.
Have they never seen someone with allergies before?! Akutagawa barely manages to catch a cough in his throat, feeling his tongue tense as the action ripples throughout his chest. He’s almost at the fountain when he feels a tap on his arm.
A woman stands, looking at him with a mixture of concern and disapproval, and... of course.
“Wearing this much dark clothing out in the sun is extremely irresponsible and dangerous.”
Akutagawa barely has time to process her concerns, his focus overtaken by the overwhelming scent of pollen drifting from the flowers strewn throughout her hair. That, mixed with the aroma of freshly cut grass that she must have been rolling in to have gotten so coated with it.
He manages a choked, “mind your own business” before breaking his coat from her grasp, and continuing his frantic pace to the fountain. The woman shrugs it off with a huff, speeding away, but the damage has been done.
“ngXT-! ah’tNgt’ch!”
A few stifles break loose from his grip, Akutagawa’s hand snapping to his face instinctively. Pinching his nose, he managed to contain another rapid set, control wearing off at an alarming pace.
“Oh hey, Akutagawa!” Atsushi calls once Akutagawa enters earshot. “I don’t think it’s in the fountain, I’ve searched all over- Oh! Unless it’s underwater, though… how would papers…”
“They migh- kNgt’ch!” Akutagawa feels a faint flush settle over his cheeks at the interruption, but he continues with a growl before Jinko can get a word out. “They might not be papers. I was only told to intercept ‘information’, and you weren’t given any further clarifications.”
Atsushi pauses, scratching his head with a sheepish smile. “Oh, I guess you’re right! In that case, maybe it’s some sort of coin? People tend to toss a lot of them into the fountain.”
Another set of stifles break free as Akutagawa swivels on his heel, attempting to shield the outburst best he can. Turning back, it seems he was successful, Atsushi diving headfirst back into the fountain on his coin mission. Sighing, Akutagawa tosses a piece of advice over his shoulder.
“You should look for- nNgt! ah’knCH! Look for foreign coins, something recognizable, but not too obviously out of place.”
“Yeah!” Atsushi smiles, turning his attention back to Akutagawa. “That’s a good idea! You want to help?”
“Not in the slightest.”
As he attempts to maintain his composure, Akutagawa feels another wave of itch overcome his throat, a vague growl slipping out before he can help it.
“Are- are you okay, Akutagawa?”
“Yes,” Akutagawa snaps back, bringing the back of his hand up to his mouth to fake a cough.
Atsushi seems hesitant, but nods and returns to his search. Minutes pass, ticking by like hours as Akutagwa attempts to hold off another scratch of the desperate itch beginning to crawl deeper into his ears. Finally he can’t stand it anymore and he lets out another deep growl, covering it with a pathetically ticklish cough.
Unfortunately, he realizes far too late that action will set off a chain reaction, his nose bursting with a newfound need.
This time they break through, the last ones tumbling over each other in a dizzying frenzy of desperate irritation. This will be harder to play off as a mild lung condition.
“Oh- Akutagawa are you okay? Do you need hel-”
Atsushi is cut off by a blow from Rashōmon, Akutagawa glaring at him from behind his sleeve.
“Do not mistake my suffering for weakness, Jinko. I am more than capable of holding my own.”
The words would have carried more weight, had the congestion lacing them not left him sounding a touch pathetic. Nonetheless, he pulls himself together long enough to release his nose, snap something about ‘checking around’, and rush off to another section of the park.
Letting a congestion moan slip from his lips, Akutagawa digs his heels into his eyes again, wiping away some stray tears as the irritation releases itself in yet another disgusting display.
The sneezes tear out from his throat, a bit sore and yet unbelievably satisfying. They not only scratch the mad itch in his sinuses, but leave his throat feeling mildly relieved.
This relief is cut short as a hand brushing against his back nearly scares him out of his skin.
“Bless you!”
Akutagawa rolls his eyes, muttering something about ‘western customs’ between the frantic hitching of his breath. Atsushi averts his eyes, at least offering the semblance of privacy as Akutagawa ducks into his chest with a rapid fit that barely gives him time to breathe.
“tsshh– tzshh– izshh– yzshh– yieZShh’uu!”
These ones do nothing to relieve any itch, instead they almost seem to spread it deeper. After a minute of awkwardly standing there, Atsushi seems unable to resist commenting. His mouth opens and closes a few times, unable to find the words.
Akutagawa, on the other hand, couldn’t say anything about this if he wanted to.
“We- zshh– ah’YZShh! I ndeed- tzzshh– ezshh– iZShh’uu!” The words are lost between frantic gasps and rapid fits. Atsushi offers a few more blessings, Akutagawa barely managing a harsh glare through the water in his eyes.
Finally, after what feels like forever, a last “yiEZZSHh’uu!” breaks him out of it, giving him a minute to catch his breath.
“Bless you, Akutagawa. Those are some bad allergies-”
As soon as the word leaves his lips, they both know he’s made a mistake. Spoken something that should have been left unsaid. Before he can start backpedaling, and inevitably make it worse, Akutagawa takes control of the situation.
“Are you going to show me what you found, or just stand here all day?”
“R-right! Sorry,” Atsushi gives that same sheepish smile again, and for a second Akutagawa almost feels- well, nevermind that. Taking the reprise from the burden of speaking, he lets Atsushi begin rambling on about the coin, and something to do with codes.
“heH’ZSHHuu!”
“Oh, bless you!”
Another eye roll, followed by another “zSHhh! yiEZSHhh’uu!”
Which of course is followed by another blessing.
This pattern continues for a few minutes, Atsushi futilely attempting to explain the code and offer enough blessings for Akutagawa’s ever increasing allergy attack.
“Hey,” Atsushi suddenly offers, tone switching to something softer, “how about I just fill you in back in the detective agency?”
“If you- ih’ZZSHh! tZSHh! If you think I’m setting foot in that-”
“Then how about the Port Mafia offices? I doubt they’d kill me on site, seeing as they sent us here together for this.”
Akutagawa rolls his eyes, but nods. It would be foolish at this point to not accept the offer. And besides… It's much better than showing up like this in front of Dazai.
“Alright, but I won’t promise no harm will come to you. In fact, it may come by my own hand.”
But as they begin their walk, Atsushi handing over a pack of tissues, Akutagwa lets that thought slip from his mind. Maybe the weretiger isn’t so bad after all.
Is anyone else still into the M/agnus Archives?
Maybe, maybe not, but I have had this fic sitting in my google docs for months, and I just finally managed to get myself to finish up the last bit, so here is part one of a possible two part fic, if I can ever manage to get myself to write the next part!
So, if anyone wants, please enjoy a little Allergic to concepts Jon. aka, Jon is so allergic to dogs that just the idea of them gets him a bit worked up~
I'll never be over this podcast, and I might start sharing small (tiny) drabbles of these guys if anyone would be interested <3 or even just to start coaxing myself back into writing~
Characters: Jon, Martin, Tim, and Sasha
Word Count: 2.7k
“-so to conclude, we absolutely, most certainly, cannot do that,” Martin finishes, hands woven into his hair. Seems to happen more often nowadays; getting a job you’re not exactly qualified for tends to bring on a touch of added stress. What brings even more stress, however, are the faces staring back at him, twin smiles painted across worryingly calm canvases. Seems once a poet, always a poet, even in your own thoughts.
Tim chuckles, mischief running through his eyes. “How do you even know that? You been stalking our new boss?”
“W-well no, it’s just that…” Martin starts, beginning to study the floor as his rambling starts to take over. “Well there may have been an… incident, of- of sorts, with a uh… well it was, I was trying to open this door, but see I was holding files, and there was this dog, and they kinda just- well I was trying to stop it but it got in and- so I went to Jon’s office and he was just kinda… and then I-”
“So what?” Tim interrupts, mercifully saving Martin from his own tongue. “Why should his issues stop us from havin’ a good time?” With a snap of his fingers, Tim casts Sasha a devious wink. The colour seems to drain from Martin’s face as he holds up a shaking finger, aiming somewhere behind Tim’s shoulders.
“Ah, speak of the devil,” Sasha mutters, her smile never wavering.
Spinning on his heel, Tim turns to greet the newest arrival to the hallway. “Fancy seeing you here, boss! Burning the midday oil?”
Jon pauses, papers nearly spilling from his crowded arms as he fumbles with some keys. “That’s not an expression. And what are you all doing cramped in the hall? Don’t any of you have work to do?”
Martin nearly keels over as Jon’s glare settles against him, seemingly deeming him responsible for this lapse in progress. As if! In fact, he’d been the one begging them to get back to work. Honestly, Jon should appreciate the fact that he talked them out of-
“Actually, we’re thinking of heading off for the day,” Tim cuts in, leaving Martin’s mouth nearly hanging open. Had they not just gone over why this was a horrible idea? As if to answer his unspoken question, Sasha joins in with support for Tim’s cause. Martin’s pretty sure there’s actually a gap between his lips.
Jon, having opened the office by this point, merely stops and stares. Seconds pass, though it feels more like minutes. There appears to be some sort of staring match between the three of them.
Finally Jon breaks the silence with a short… well, it’s hard to call it a laugh, more like a huff. His posture tightens as he attempts to pull himself to his full height, casting Tim a wary glance. “You can’t be serious.”
“Quite serious in fact! See, me and Sasha have been thinking,” Tim pauses, gesturing to the aforementioned with a sickly sweet smile. Merely performance charm, which given the eye-roll she shoots back, Sasha’s well aware of. “All of us here need a chance to bond.”
“Bond, you say,” Jon’s monotone voice offers no insight to how he’s taking this suggestion. As Martin’s mouth begins to dry, his hands start working their way back into his hair.
“Indeed!” Tim continues, seemingly oblivious to Martin’s rapidly increasing heart rate. “We’ve all been stuck here together, figured we should become more of a team, you know? A team-building exercise you could call it. Something to get us more on the same page.”
“And what is this ‘team-building exercise’ you have in mind?”
Well, his heart may have been racing before, but it’s not anymore. In fact, he’s almost entirely convinced it’s just stopped completely. Jon’s eyes meet his own, and Martin drops his gaze fast enough to leave him dizzy.
This time Sasha speaks up, her coy tone doing nothing to alleviate the heart attack symptoms Martin’s now convinced he’s feeling. “An animal rescue cafe. They rescue dogs and cats, the ones that need rehoming, and bring them there so you can get to know them before you adopt. One opened just down the street from here, and me and Tim have been looking into going. We figured, might as well drag you and Martin along with us.”
Jon’s glare narrows further, a single hand coming up to rest between his eyes. The movement is completed by pushing up his glasses with a sigh. “And how exactly does drinking tea in a room full of animals qualify as team building?”
“You can tell a lot about a person from the way they treat animals,” Tim offers. “Not to mention the fact that there’s a whole study about how psychopaths are more likely to hate cats, which is mostly due to the fact cats have willful behaviour.”
Martin can almost taste his heartbeat at this point, a fact he’s finding quite alarming. Still rummaging through papers, Jon steps into his office. Much to Martin’s chagrin, they all seem to be following him.
“Are you suggesting someone working in this office is a psychopath, Tim?” Jon continues, huffing out another sigh as he notices the entourage entering his office. Jon’s glare lands on Martin once more, something he’s almost gotten used to at this point.
Laughter begins to flow from Tim, Sasha joining in with a mild chuckle. “Of course not, but hey, this job’s all about researching things that probably aren’t true. Better safe than sorry, right?”
Seemingly the only one noticing Jon’s growing apprehension, or maybe just the only one that cares, Martin can’t peel his eyes off their boss. Unaware of the scrutiny, though perhaps expecting it nonetheless, Jon pushes up his glasses again. Martin doesn’t miss the way he lets a single finger brush against his nose during this action. Nor do his eyes skip over the light scrunch forming at the bridge of said nose.
Oblivious as always, Tim’s still going on about the cafe. Something about which animals are available, what tea they serve, scones, and more useless information. Sasha’s typing something in her phone, apparently fact checking his current ramblings. Still, all of that fades into the background as Martin’s attention is drawn to Jon once more.
At first, he can’t figure out why he’s watching. Jon didn’t speak, and from his posture he hasn’t made any significant gestures. There doesn’t seem to be anything specifically that should have caught his eye, and yet-
And then it happens again. Jon’s brows tighten, his eyes begin to flutter shut, and his lips part just enough for his tongue to peek out between them. There’s a beat of silence, then a single breathy inhale, barely noticeable above Tim’s monologuing.
“ihh-”
Just as quickly as it began, Jon crushes it back once more, a hand roughing swiping against his nose. There’s a quiet feeling of– perverse excitement as Martin watches him. Why? No earthly idea. It’s not as if there’s anything specifically… exciting about the action. There’s no physical stimulation beginning, to phrase it politely.
Still, there’s something… almost electrifying, about bearing witness to a moment so personal and private. As if the only person in the room is Jon, and he’s opened the door for Martin to join him in his world. Which, as you think about it, just becomes more and more– creepy as hell! Damn it!
Pulling himself from his thoughts, Martin manages to peel his gaze away from Jon. Zoning back into Tim’s rambling, he just barely catches the tail end of a rant about different toppings on cinnamon buns. His silence was entirely unnoticed. Understandably, given only Tim had said anything in minutes.
“Personally, I’m a fan of the regular cream cheese icing,” Martin offers, forcing himself to keep his eyes on Tim as another soft sniffle sounds behind him. The others don’t notice it, Sasha rolling her eyes as a light begins to dawn in Tim’s.
“Well, interesting you say that Martin, they actually have those at the cafe down the street! Isn’t that such a wonderful coincidence?” Tim swirls his body towards Martin, casting a playful glance back at Jon as he continues. “Wouldn’t you like to stop by and get yourself one of those delicious buns?”
Martin feels his face begin to pale again, and barely manages a meek, “W-well… I don’t need to… get one right now… but if you want-”
Thankfully he’s saved from himself as a gasp sounds out from the desk. Everyone in the room turns, Martin included, just in time to see Jon duck into his wrist with a tight, “ih’nGXt–uih!”
“Bless you!” Sasha calls, Tim and Martin echoing the sentiment. A flush begins to spread over Jon’s cheeks, but it’s brushed off as he waves a hand, continuing to scribble on some papers. Casting a glance over to Tim, Martin sighs as the mischief floods the other man's face. He’s very clearly not letting this go.
“Was that actually a sneeze?” Tim laughs, mimicking the sound as Sasha suppresses a giggle.
Jon keeps his head down, pen still moving across the paper in disjointed movements. “It was in fact a sneeze, yes. Happens to everyone from time to time, no need to make a big deal out of it. Now, I believe you were going to a cat and do- hiHh! rescue cafe?”
The hitch manages to escape from Jon’s tight grip, his posture shuddering slightly with the force of continuing the sentence. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Martin that just the word dog seems to leave him breathless.
“A dog cafe, yeah! You’re coming too, right boss? Come see all the adorable little puppies?” Tim offers, gesturing towards the door. Apparently it didn’t go unnoticed by him either.
An audible gasp sounds out, and all eyes turn back to the rapidly hitching boss. Jon manages to stifle the first one almost silently, only a rush of breath escaping at the end.
“Bless you, boss.”
Jon waves a hand, wiping away the water beginning to flood his eyes. “Was just sihh… sighing, Tim.” He finishes the statement with another stifle, this time his whole body jerks along with the rough exhale.
“Really? Because that sounded like another sneeze,” Tim taunts, poking a finger towards Jon’s face. “And given the way your nose is twitching, you seem far from done.”
Jon seems to consider debating, but another frantic hitch decides it for him. Giving up the ruse, he ducks into his shoulder with another, “eh’tNGxt–uh! ih’NTchhuh!”
“Bless yo-”
“eH’DGZSHhh –uu!” The volume makes everyone jump, seeming to surprise even Jon.
“Oh- mby apologies, I seeb to be… hiehh–” Jon trails off, one hand frantically searching for a tissue, nose visibly trembling behind the other. In a move of uncharacteristic pity, Tim pushes the box within reach. Jon mumbles out a thank you, before swinging his chair around for a touch of privacy.
The silence is almost deafening, cut up only by the rustling of fabric as Jon attempts to subdue the onslaught. “eh’nGNt –oo!” And fails miserably.
“Do- maybe do you want… well possibly we should, actually I think you might- I mean he might want–” Desperately trying to find a way to fill the space, Martin rambles on, gaze bouncing between all three of his coworkers.
“Martin,” Jon cuts him off, “just say it.”
The annoyance Martin’s come to expect seems unaffected by the breathy quality of Jon’s words. Unless you notice the flushed nature of his ears, which… is kinda hard to miss when his nose is starting to match.
“S-sorry! I just figured you may want a touch of uh… privacy..? You seem… itchy,” Martin offers, already beginning to back out of the room.
Jon glares, lining up a retort before pausing as the first syllable comes out muffled with congestion. A sharp sniff and quick rub later, he continues in an easier tone. “I’m quite alright. No need for such concerns.”
“I mean- If… if you’re sure…”
Tim interrupts this time, draping an arm across Martin’s back. “You heard the boss, he’s fine. Now, onto that cafe?”
Before Martin can get a word out, Jon stands from his chair, dropping the tissues in the wastebasket next to his desk. Sasha chuckles out her approval, sticking her phone into a pocket and beginning to exit the office. Tim follows suit, leaving Martin standing alone with Jon.
There’s a beat of silence, Martin watching, horrified, as his body refuses to move an inch, silently waiting for Jon’s approval.
“Well?”
It’s not exactly an invitation, but it’s more than enough to send Martin scrambling for the door, muttering more sheepish apologies under his breath. If Jon heard them, he gave no indication, busy rustling through a desk drawer. A few more muffled stifles make their way through the noise, no indication given they were heard either.
As Martin makes it into the hallway, he catches Tim waving from the door. He’s propping it open with one foot as Sasha waits outside, once again on her phone. Martin waves back his acknowledgement, before gesturing towards the kitchen. Tim simply shrugs, calling something about ‘not waiting around’, before joining Sasha in the crisp autumn air.
Making his way back to the kitchen, Martin pauses at Jon’s door. He’s not eavesdropping, just… listening in, to see if Jon’s alright. It’s his boss after all, and he’s an assistant! He’s supposed to… assist! Perfectly natural thing to do, isn’t it?
A harsh double pulls him from his spiralling, Jon’s voice coming through audibly in the groan that follows. Alright, enough listening in, this is starting to feel more creepy than curious.
With what little confidence he can muster, Martin works his way through his plan. The mugs are where they always are, but the water in the kettle was a bit more cold than a proper cup of tea would allow. Flipping the switch, Martin began heating it, and hurried out of the kitchen to his desk. He picks out a fairly bland tea, Jon seems the bland type… right?
Another few sneezes sound out from the boss’s office, and Martin almost starts to feel guilty for still being in the office. It’s obvious Jon assumes he’s alone, if not from the sneezes themselves, from the groans that come after them. Ever the stickler for a Professional Appearance, he’d never allow himself to be seen or heard in such a state willingly.
The kettle sounding pulls Martin from his thoughts once more, and he pours the water over the tea bag. Moving carefully, as not to spill, he makes his way back to Jon’s office, knocking softly on the door.
“Yes?” The reply is sharp, a frantic sounding shuffling occurring as Martin begins to slide open the door.
“Hey, yeah sorry I just- you sounded like… I just thought that maybe you’d want… you might need some…”
“Spit it out, Martin,” Jon sighs, giving his nose a subtle swipe. Unfortunately for him, this seems to have been the wrong choice. His nose twitches, eyes beginning to unfocus, and Martin finds himself pausing for the interruption. At least, until Jon gestures at him to continue.
“Well, I just ma-”
“ih’tNGT–uu!”
“Bless you. I just made you some tea, it seemed you cou-”
“hHUh’dNT–uh!” There’s a pause, Jon’s breath catching dramatically, before he swivels around in the chair and aims a harsh, “eH’dZSHH– eih’DSCHhhh–oo!” at the fistful of tissues he managed to grab.
It wasn’t exactly quiet, and Martin finds himself flinching against the noise, but holds it together as he places the mug on Jon’s desk, hurrying through the rest of his sentence.
“Seemed you could use some tea, bless you again by the way, anyways I’m gonna head off with Sasha and Tim, I’ll see you there I guess! Or, well- not just me, we’ll all see you there, as a group, if you choose to come that is! Which of course you don’t have to, though we’d lik-”
“Martdin,” Jon, mercifully, cuts him off, congestion seeping through his words. With a deep sigh, he finishes his sentence. “Thagnk you. You mbay go ndow.”
Taking the out, Martin gives one last nervous smile, sliding out into the hallway. Another desperate sneeze leaves him wincing, Jon’s vocal groan sounding out yet again. The poor guy sounds miserable, and Martin almost considers going back in and telling him not to come. If he’s this bad from just the thought… well…
But he’s embarrassed himself enough for the day, and, albeit hesitantly, Martin heads off to meet Tim and Sasha at the cafe.
U CAN TOTALLY SAY NO BUT,,,, can I request an E/iffel drabble 👉👈 -Totally not Lex
Oh gosh, it's just crazy that you're totally not Lex, because you see, I have this friend called Lex who introduced me to w/olf 359 in the first place, of whom I've screeched about E/iffel many times with, isn't that just crazy??~ (:] hehe, I'd be honoured to give E/iffel a lil shot~)
Here is about 950 words of E/iffel's allergic misery~ (spoilers for w/olf 359, not a lot but, well, proceed at your own discretion~ also contains swearing so be aware of that too <3)
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You can’t be serious,” Minkowski says, entering the room to find Eiffel still sneezing.
At the interruption he glances up, meeting her firm gaze. He only gets a second before he smoothers his face into his hands again.
“I left you like this an entire hour ago,” Minkowski continues, ignoring constant hitching and curses coming from Eiffel. “That plant… monster… thing- we both saw it leave right before I did, how the hell are you still sneezing?”
“I promise you,” Eiffel retorts, voice starting to fade a bit from all the sneezes, tiny as they may be. “I want to stop more than you want me to stop. hh’shhew!”
“At this point you’ve gotta be doing it for attention,” Minkowski cuts back. “That or your nose is as dramatic as you are.”
“I think it’s-” Eiffel starts, before his eyes drift off, tongue beginning to peek between his lips. They both stay there for a moment, silent, before finally Eiffel spins to the side and- “hiHhshew! iiEEShhew! ieshh–ishh–ishhieww!- Holy fuck.”
“I’m not blessing you.”
“Didn’t ask you to.”
Mikowski rolls her eyes noticeably, shooting Eiffel a glare. “You were saying something?”
“hH’tshhew!- Uhh, yeah I probably was, wasn’t I… hm. hH– h’ntch–uh!”
“Will you just spit it out already? Sitting here listening to you sneeze is not exactly on my list of priorities. I have a ship to maintain, you know.”
Eiffel looks up, giving a deeply exasperated gesture to the state of his face. In all fairness, he does look pretty miserable. “I’m so sorry that my face exploding is inconveniencing you! Oh how could I be so selfish. You know a little sympathy, or even pity would be n-nuhh… nice– hH’ISHHew!- ih’YSHh–iew!”
Minkowski does have the decency to offer an apologetic look. Alright, if it was her husband- or hell, almost anyone else in this situation, she’d be a lot more sympathetic. It’s just… Eiffel. He does his best to be as irritating as possible, so seeing him get hit with- almost a dose of his own medicine… damn near cathartic. Still, he does have a point, this particular instance isn’t exactly his fault.
“Fine, I’m sorry. This probably isn’t your favouri-”
“Oh! Right,” Eiffel interrupts, rubbing his nose raw as it twitches against his palm. “I remembered what I was gonna say earlier.”
Monkowski debates hitting him, but with a deep breath, decides against it. It’s better to just let him get it out now, god forbid it’s actually important. “Yes?”
“I think it’s back in the vents again. The uh, the plant monster thing. I heard a few noises, and well, I’ve b-been… sn- snee… sneezingmoreagain– iSHhiew!- ishh-tshhh-tshhh’uh!- tzshh’uh! Fuhhck– hHNNT’choo!-”
“And you just- didn’t mention this?!” Minkowski snaps, eyes darting up to the vents. “I’ve been hunting this thing around the whole damn ship!”
A few deep breaths later, Minkowski calms herself enough to not throw something at him. The fact there are literal tears running down his face does help. Much as Eiffel is a sarcastic, annoying, irritating asshole, this is getting to be a bit too much.
“Hey,” She starts, softer than before. “Why don’t you get Hera to direct you to some medication, and wash your face with some cold water.”
Eiffel nods, sniffling pathetically against the back of his hand. Minkowski tries not to visibly wince at the display.
“Ndot a bad idehhh… hH’ISHh’uh!- tshhh’ew!-”
“Bless.”
Eiffel stops, that familiar shit-eating grin starting to spread against his features. “Minkowski, did you just bless me?”
Suppressing the urge, again, to hit him, Minkowski instead replies tightly, “A moment of weakness, Eiffel. Don’t make me regret it.”
“Awhhh,” Eiffel coos, sniffling in a way that sends unpleasant chills down Minkowski’s spine. “I knew you cared!
“I will personally cover your pillow in dust before you sleep,” comes the reply, Eiffel visibly wincing.
“Oh god- ih’nNDt–iew! hh’ndGt–shiew! don’t even joke about that, I’m already itchyy-”
“I think that’s more from the pollen than the idea of dust.”
Eiffel groans, bobbing into his chest while pinching off another set of stifles. “Guhh, it’s both. hh’nNchew!”
“You really are allergic to everything, aren’t you,” Minkowski says, her tone accidentally slipping into something almost sympathetic. She’s quick to correct that before speaking again, “how did you survive before if you’re this damn allergic in a space ship??”
“It’s not my fault there’s a goddamn plant monster in outer space!” Eiffel replies, gesturing wildly to the vents. “Ya know, I kinda thought going this far away from earth would mean less pollehh- eh’CHew!- iShhew!- guhh. Would mean less pollen, not being hunted by it.”
Minkowski rolls her eyes again, pinching the bridge of her nose. At this rate she’s gonna eyeroll herself into another headache. Just the effect Eiffel has on people. “You’re not being ‘hunted by pollen’, there just-” She pauses, not unaware of how ridiculous the next part sounds. “There just happens to be a plant hybrid living in our vents.”
“You do hear yourself, right?”
She doesn’t justify that with a response. In any other circumstance this might have turned into a bit of a competition, who can hold out longer, who will break first, admit how ridiculous this is, but-
“eIShhew!-”
Eiffel’s nose breaks the tie.
“Go wash your face, Eiffel. And this time if you hear something moving around in the vents, tell me right away, yeah?”
There’s a nod, Eiffel too caught up in a false start to speak. He instead waves a hand, finally releasing the “ishhh’iew!-” as he steps out of the door, a muttered curse following close after.
Though she’ll never admit it, seeing Eiffel so downright miserable… well, it does give her a bit more incentive to catch this goddamn plant.