GraySkies

she/her || 31 || ace || sneeze kink || minors dni

[grayskies2525]

Intro

Some Relevant Info and Such:

You can call me Gray! I promise I'm not misspelling the word. I'm an American and that's just how we do it over here lol

Minors (people under 18) do not interact! It’s not safe or appropriate for adults and minors to be interacting in a kink space. So, I will block you if you don’t have your age in your bio. I hope you understand 💕

I’m asexual and consider myself, for the most part, sex repulsed. This fetish is entirely a personal pleasure to me and I indulge in it mostly through fiction. I'm not interested in any kind of RP, but if you want to talk about fics, though, feel free to message me! I love talking about mine and other peoples’ OC’s 😊

My main fetish preference is men sneezing, mostly from colds. I love romance, so my fics are usually M/M sick fics. I also love mess, but try to tone it down in my fics because I know that’s not for everyone, but every now and then I will write a scene where I indulge in it a little 😅

My Fics: 

Connor and Felix:

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

An Admirable Denial: Connor has just reunited with his ex-boyfriend, Felix. Connor wants to prove he's fully committed to their relationship, but he comes down with what's looking to be the worst cold of his entire life. His deep fear of vulnerability keeps him from allowing Felix to see this side of himself. So during this pivotal and fragile stage in their relationship, he finds himself pulling away from Felix.

A Sneezy Little Christmas: A 2,500 word one-shot that's just Felix sneezing. *Can be read as a standalone

Ben and Arlo: 

A Year of Falling: A love story spanning a year of Ben's life told through a series of colds (and sometimes allergies).

A Week of Falling: A sequel to A Year of Falling. This follows a week in Arlo's life as he tries make it through a difficult week while battling a cold.

Standalones:

Inevitable: A self-indulgent, mostly plotless story full of mess and contagion.

[grayskies2525]

A Week of Falling | Ben and Arlo | M/M | Part 6

Emetophobia CW: Descriptions of nausea and two instances of vomiting (not described in detail)

Word Count: 8,800

* * *

“Goddamn, fuck!” Ben exclaims, rubbing his head.

“S-hiih hiiIH Sorry- ihtshhhuh! HHhitshuh! Etshh’ etthshoo etshhh ETSHOO!”

“Wh — what is happening?” Ben’s voice is laden with grogginess.

How can Arlo explain that he’d woken up thirty minutes ago with the driest throat he’s ever had, so he’d gotten up and brought a cup of water to drink in bed. Then proceeded to have a violent sneezing fit that resulted in him dropping said cup of water onto Ben’s head?

The answer is that he can’t. Because he simply can not stop sneezing.

“Itshhh’uuh! Hh uh HUHTshoo!”

“‘M fucking… I’m fucking wet. What the hell happened?”

Ben’s voice is gradually beginning to sound more coherent, which is great, because maybe he can figure things out himself soon; there’s already another buzzing sensation traveling through Arlo’s sinuses.

Tilting his head back, he’s stuck in what seems to be a perpetual inhalation. His chest heaves and heaves until finally he jerks forward.

“EHH’Idtzshoooo!”

There’s shuffling and the sounds of sheets being moved. But Arlo can’t focus on what’s happening around him because he’s too busy drawing in another deep breath. 

“HhhhhhhHHHHHH!”

Tears trickle down his cheeks as his chest expands and his shoulders tense. 

“HHH ick’shooo! Ickshooo! IHHghhshoo!”

Those last three shifted something inside his head. Congestion loosened, he suddenly has a new, messier problem to deal with.

He reaches for the tissue box on the bedside table, but it falls off the edge of table right as — 

“HHTgshhhhuh! Ehtshhhhoo!”

A light comes on, which Arlo would have been thankful for moments ago, but now he wishes he weren’t seeing the damp spray on his pajama pants. 

Suddenly there’s a horrible yelp from across the room. 

“Well, if you don’t want to get stepped on, then don’t walk underneath my feet, Jesus Christ!  Fuck!” Ben yells.

“Ben, don’t yell at her. She — HUHH! Huh’ngt! Huhhngt’shoo! Het’tshh! Hehtsssh! Tshhh! Tshooo! HHH — Hand them to me, please,” Arlo says, his voice quavering with the urge to keep sneezing. Ben’s standing in front of him, holding a box of tissues.

“Here,” Ben says, tossing the box of tissues.

He blows slowly, at first. Experimentally. Everything seems fine. He just needs to be careful so that he doesn’t trigger another — 

“Hhhtshhh! HHTSSHoo! ETsshh! HEHTSHH! Etshhoo! HH! Mpshooo! Mpshhh!”

“Holy shit, you are sneezing so much,” Ben says.

“I know. Sorry for waking you up,” Arlo mumbles before taking in another huge breath. “AHHihhtshooo!” 

“Didn’t say that to get you to apologize. Just making an observation. What time is it?” Ben asks. 

“Hhhhhhhh! Oh my god, still?” Arlo asks, staring at the ceiling, more tears trailing down his cheeks. “Hddtshoooo!”

There’s more moving around before Ben says, “2 am? Holy shit.”

“Sorry,” Arlo says again, grabbing more tissues.

“No sorrys. I’m just… disoriented.” Ben reaches out his hands for Arlo to take. After noticing Arlo’s expression, though, he rolls his eyes and smiles. “Get off the bed, silly. It’s wet for some reason.”

“I dumped water on it,” Arlo says, taking Ben’s hands, wincing as he tries to not think how many germs he’s passing on. He knows Ben can’t catch this cold, but the thought is repulsive, nevertheless. 

“... Why would you do that?”

“Why would I do what?” Arlo jerks away from Ben to aim a sharp, “hHTSHHoo!” at the ground.

“Why would you dump water on me? Oh my god, come here. Let’s go sit in the living room for a minute.” An arm wraps around Arlo’s waist, and part of him wants to lean into Ben, but there’s another prickle sparking inside his nose, so he snaps forward into his elbow, not even having time to regret the pain it causes.

“Huhhngt’shoo Ngt’shhh! Shh! SHhh! EtSHooo! Hh! Hhh!”

“Whoa, okay, let’s get you sitting or you’re going to get dizzy.”

Arlo does get dizzy, but thankfully he’s already at the couch when it starts. He practically collapses onto it. 

“HhhhHHHH! Hhh! HHH!”

“Press your tongue to the roof of your mouth.” Ben’s now next to Arlo on the couch, lightly rubbing his thigh.

“Wh — hh? What?” So much liquid is trying to escape his nostrils. He feels like a rabbit as he takes five quick sniffs in effort to keep it all from spilling out.

“Your tongue. To the roof of your mouth.”

As Arlo follows the command, Ben suddenly pinches the bridge of Arlo’s nose. 

The urge to sneeze flares full force. He feels the pressure build behind his cheekbones and in the center of his forehead.

“Ben — sthh-op — stop, stop, I — Ekmphsshhhhhh! KCHMpgsthhoo! Mmpgktshhhh! Mkptkshhhhh!”

“Shit!” Ben’s exclamation is hardly noticeable. All of Arlo’s focus is fully on alleviating the burning sensation in his nose. 

Although he’s not been awake for long at all, his joints have already made it clear that today is not going to be a good day. Regardless, he reaches to rub vigorously at his nose, but winces, letting his hand fall almost immediately. 

“Hey, don’t mind me, just gonna help out super quick.” Before Arlo can question what this means, Ben is pressing a tissue against his nose. 

And because there was never going to be another outcome to this situation, Arlo sneezes.

“NGT’sh! HEHNgx’tshh! HEHNGT! Eshhhooo! EHHshooo! Emkpt’shh! Beh-hh-en! Ben,” Arlo moans from behind the now extremely soaked tissue. 

“No worries, it’s all good. Everything’s fine. Just need more tissues,” Ben says, removing the current one. 

Arlo reaches his hand out to stop his boyfriend from pressing more tissues against his pouring nose. The problem, though, is how stiff his fingers are. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Let me help you.” Ben’s voice is soft. Soothing. “I know how fucked up your hands are in the mornings, okay? And your nose, uh, seems to be a pretty pressing issue. And, I absolutely hate to say this — I really do. But, you’ve kind of already sneezed all over me. So the damage is done.”

Before Arlo can say anything, Ben’s already grabbing the tissues and reaching them up to Arlo’s face. There’s a short moment where Ben hesitates, but after Arlo says nothing, he swiftly runs the tissues over Arlo’s nostrils. He also wipes away the liquid that had come close to dripping onto Arlo’s lips. 

“See? No biggie. Now — oh, okay, you’re gonna sneeze again.”

“Mkptkshh! Eshhhooo! GNt’shhhh!”

This time, when the tissue comes, instinct takes over and Arlo blows. It’s a raw need that overrides any embarrassment. After the first tissue, a second comes. Then a third. Then an entire clump.

When he’s finished, the buzzing in his nose has finally abated. He relaxes against the couch, closing his eyes. His abdomen aches as though he’s just completed a workout and his head is splitting. 

“Come here,” Bens says, softly. 

“Why did you tell me to put my tongue against the roof of my mouth?” Arlo asks, his eyes half-shut as he nestles into Ben’s hold, resting his head on his shoulder.

Ben’s chuckle is warm and soft. “I was Googling ways to stop a sneezing fit. That’s what it said to do. To press your tongue to the roof of your mouth, then pinch the bridge of your nose.”

“It didn’t work,” Arlo mumbles. 

Laughing again, Ben says, “No. It absolutely did not. I should’ve known. I think I’ve tried that a time or two, myself. Seems like when the body really wants to sneeze, it’s just gonna sneeze.” 

“That was all, um, really, really gross. I’m so sorry.”

“Mm, yes, it was so gross and repulsive, which is why I’m holding you right now and kissing your curls.” He plants an especially hard kiss to Arlo’s head as if to demonstrate. 

“Sorry about the water.”

“Did you spill it on purpose?” Ben asks.

“No. I was just tired… and couldn’t stop sneezing. But still. It’s not fair that you’re losing sleep, too.”

“It’s not fair that either of us have to lose sleep. But you’re sick and these things happen. It’s a normal part of life.”

“Dropping a glass of water onto one’s sleeping boyfriend is a normal part of life?”

Ben breathes out a laugh. “It appears it’s a normal part of your life. And your life is basically my life, which means it’s a normal part of our lives. Which is honestly all I’m concerned with.”

“But then you're disregarding the definition of ‘normal,” Arlo mumbles, frowning against Ben’s shoulder.

“Yeah, you know what? I am. Fuck that word, honestly. We can make our own normal.”

“So you want me to wake you up every morning by spilling water or —”

“Okay, well, no. Let’s refrain from doing that again. For a little while at least.” 

“Okay, I’ll try.” The words come out as a sleepy mumble.

“Strech out. I’ll go get some pillows and we can just crash here for the next few hours,” Ben says. 

So that’s what they do.

* * * 

It’s Ben’s alarm that wakes him up first. Then his own. Then, Ben’s second alarm. Then Ben’s third alarm. By the time Ben’s fourth alarm sounds, Arlo must resign himself to the fact that dozing time is over and he needs to actually get up, and probably wake up Ben while he’s at it.

After several minutes of hoarsely whispering for Ben to untangle himself from Arlo’s body, the two are both finally awake. Ben, though, is hunched forward rubbing his palms against his eyes. 

“I want to die,” Ben proclaims before letting out a dry cough, which is hopefully the last remnant of his cold.

 “I’m sorry I kept you up,” Arlo mutters, rubbing a hand over his throat in an attempt to soothe the soreness there.

“If you’re sorry, stay home with me today.”

Frowning, Arlo shakes his head. “We… we can’t. We both have to work.”

“Fuck work.” Ben wraps an arm around Arlo, pulling him into an embrace.

“We can’t, Ben.”

“We can. We’re sick.”

A small smile curves at the corner of Arlo’s mouth. “You’re being purposefully obtuse.”

“Nope, can’t be true,” Ben says, now resting his head against Arlo’s shoulder. How effortless it would be right now to let his own eyes close and sink into this comfort.

“Why can’t it be true?” Arlo asks, sniffling slightly. 

“I’m not a triangle.”

When the meaning hits, Arlo’s eyes roll in that profoundly dramatic way they often do when speaking to his boyfriend.

“I know you know ‘obtuse’ has multiple meanings. You’re just being….” Arlo lets the sentence hang in the air as his eyes narrow.

“Being purposefully obtuse?” Ben offers, flashing a smile.

“HHt’sshhhoo!”

The sneeze is small, but so unexpected and completely wet. That’s… unusual. No warning at all is not normal and definitely not ideal.

“Sorry for, um, not covering. I — I didn’t know it was coming.” 

“And this is why we need to stay home,” Ben says, giving Arlo’s back a gentle rub. Arlo partly feels bad for ruining the morning cuddle by jerking away with the sneeze, but also, they both really do need to get ready for work.

“Hmpt’sshh!”

This one sprays against the back of the hand that barely made it up in time. He imagines standing in front of his students all day sneezing like mad, unable to stifle or even cover. The wince he feels taking over his features can’t be stopped.

“Are you okay? How’s your throat?” Ben asks, his voice unmistakably concerned. “You look like you’re in pain.” 

“No… I was just thinking about…” He pauses to sigh, letting his head fall back against the couch. “I don’t think I can work.”

“That’s what I was saying,” Ben says, the concern replaced by something that sounds like excitement. “You’re sick. I’m still a little sick.” He stops to punctuate his sentence with another dry cough. “Let’s stay home and sleep.”

His brows knitting together, Arlo asks, “You never miss work. You hate missing work.”

“Normally I have more than three hours of sleep.”

“I’ve seen you go to work in far worse shape.”

“Maybe I want to take care of you,” Ben says, his voice soft, a hint of vulnerability there. “I don’t like when you’re not feeling well. I know you’re a grown man and I know you can take care of yourself. Even when you’re having a bad RA day. And, I know you’re going to say that all you’ll be doing is spending the day in bed anyway and that there’s nothing I can do to help. But… there was yesterday and…” His voice trails off, gaze fixed on this floor.

Arlo focuses his own gaze on his bare feet. “I don’t see what yesterday has to do with anything.”

“Yesterday,” Ben begins, then hesitating in that kind of way people do around delicate subjects. And Arlo hates that something so stupid and meaningless has become a delicate subject.

“It just reminded me that I worry about you. That’s all,” Ben finally finishes.

“I know you do.” Arlo rubs Ben’s thigh in a way he hopes is soothing. “But what happened yesterday… um, won’t happen again. Obviously. So, there’s not really anything to — hHtshh! HHtshhoo!” After two quick liquidy sniffs, Arlo continues. “There’s nothing to worry about, I mean.”

Ben stares at Arlo for a long moment before he lets out a breath. “Yeah, sure, I’ll agree that the, um… confrontation that happened yesterday isn’t likely to happen again, but still, you’re sick and, yeah okay, it’s a cold. But sometimes colds get worse. I mean, it can turn into bronchitis or pneumonia, or even something as simple as an ear infection. But, if you don’t treat an ear infection, Arlo, you can end up with hearing loss. Permanent hearing loss. And life’s already hard enough without having that challenge added to it, you know?”

For a moment, all Arlo can do is blink before he chews on his lip, trying to keep the creeping smile at bay. “Let me clarify. You want to stay home with me so you can protect me from permanent hearing loss? From an ear infection I don’t have, I want to add. And what exactly, may I ask, is your plan?”

Ben huffs out a breath in such a way that images of dragon smoke pop into Arlo’s head, which only makes the smile harder to hide. 

“Force you to stay in bed so you don’t work on that paper I know you’re planning to work on.”

Stomach sinking, Arlo groans. “I forgot about the paper.”

“Ask for an extension.”

Squeezing his eyes shut against a sudden, unprompted memory of Jeremy’s smiling face, Arlo shakes his head. “No… No, I need to work on it. Keeping busy is good.” He stops at Ben’s expression. “I mean, it’s better to do something productive than just lying in bed all day.”

“Lying in bed all day is productive, silly. At least, when you’re recovering from an illness, it is.” 

Since articulating the actual reason for why he wants to keep busy isn’t an option, he instead smiles a tight smile, before reaching for his phone. “I’m going to call in.”

Ben nods, then begins extricating himself from the tangle of blankets he’d wound up in. 

Dialing his boss's number and then having to continue holding up the phone is not a fun activity when he’s in the middle of an RA flareup, but he manages.

“Hi, Mr. Simpson,” Arlo croaks when the school’s principal finally answers. “I’m, uh, calling because I’m still not feeling well. I know it’s not a good time, but I really don’t think I can make it in today.”

There’s a long pause then a long sigh. Then another long pause. Arlo can practically see his boss running a frantic hand through his hair.

“How sick do you feel?”

“Uh… Pretty sick?” He feels himself blush. The conversation was not supposed to go like this. 

“Do you have a fever?”

“A… a slight one, maybe? I honestly haven’t taken my temperature. But I — HHt’shhoo! HEHNgt’shh! HEH’SHoo!”

“Bless you. I’m sorry to have to ask. You’re obviously not well, but… We have somewhat of a situation going on.”

“What kind?”

“You know about the PD conference half the staff is at today, right?”

Arlo dabs at his nose with a tissue as he thinks, remembering Felix mentioning something about it. “I do,” he says. “I went to it last year.” This is a detail that is completely unnecessary to share, but phone calls discombobulate Arlo at the best of times, and these are certainly not the best of times.

“Yes, that’s good. You never have a problem getting in your PD hours. But, my point is that half the upper grades staff is out because of this PD. That wouldn’t be an issue, except —  Well, several of the subs – all but one, actually – have called out. Two are sick. Another had a family emergency. So, that leaves one substitute teacher and, you know, with this kind of staff shortage, we usually combine classes and have the students work on homework or watch a movie, or something. But for one substitute to handle that….”

Arlo sneezes wetly against his wrist as his murky brain connects the dots. “That does sound like it has potential for calamity, yes.”

There’s a light, nervous laugh on the other end of the phone line. “Yes. Calamity is a good word for it. So you understand. I wouldn’t ask, normally. I mean, if you’re sick, you’re sick. But, we really are in a kind of ‘survive the day situation,’ if you know what I mean. I can try to get some emergency subs, but… well, you know how that goes. And even then, I don’t want to subject a substitute to the behavior issues that will certainly arise from this kind of arrangement. I would like someone experienced there, is what I’m saying.”

“HH’tshhh! Hhh hhhngnt’shhff! Sorry, uhmb, cad you give mbe a second?” Muting the phone, Arlo blows his nose, trying to ignore the aching in his wrists as well as the embarrassment and dread settling within him. “Excuse me, sorry about that. I understand what you’re saying. And, yes, I see the issue. I…um, I guess, I can come in.” 

“Thank you,” Mr. Simpson says, his relief palpable even over the phone. “Again, I want to reiterate. Today is about survival. I shouldn’t say this, probably, but I think it’s obvious that there’s no expectation for any actual meaningful learning today.” There’s another nervous laugh. “I mean, it’d be great, of course, if the kids learn something. But, if all you can do is hand out worksheets, or play a movie, I, well, I won’t object to that, is what I’m saying.”

“I understand,” Arlo manages to say, as all his hopes for spending the day taking it easy are vanished. 

* * * 

Arlo began the day craving distraction, and distraction is what he got, so he supposes he has no right to complain. However, when Felix calls him from his conference, curious about how the school day went, he can’t exactly not complain.

“I’m not feeling my best, and this may have been the worst day at work I’ve ever had,” he says, his voice weak and cracking after he spent the day projecting it almost constantly. 

“Not feeling your best? Is that an understatement? Because your voice is, like, frighteningly bad,” Felix says. 

“I guess I’m feeling pretty rough.”

“You sound like Palpatine.” 

“I hate Star Wars,” Arlo mutters before turning to cough into his shoulder.

“That’s something we will discuss later when you sound a little bit less like you’re dying. It's after four, so you can go home right? You should do that.”

“Yeah, just waiting until I can drive,” Arlo mumbles, closing his eyes against the bright, fluorescent classroom lights. 

“You can’t drive?”

“I don’t think it’d be safe. Can’t really see well.” Arlo winces, instinctively rubbing at the center of his forehead, then wincing again at the pain it causes his knuckles. 

“Elaborate maybe?” Felix says, a dubious note to his voice.

“Headache. Or, I don’t know, I’d guess it’d technically classify as a migraine, since there’s an aura.” He sighs. “The lights… all the loud noises from the students. On top of being sick. I guess all of it together triggered one.”

“Oh that is not a fun time. Have you taken anything?” 

“Yes. Waiting for it to kick in. But, it’s been a while. And, no progress. May just lay my head down on this desk and fall asleep.” He laughs to show he’s joking, but the prospect is not as unappealing as it should be. Maybe he can rest for twenty minutes? Then he may be in a suitable condition to drive. 

“Can you call someone to pick you up? You should really get home.”

“I thought about it, but there really isn’t anyone who I wouldn’t be posing a major imposition upon.” Addy was a possibility, but when he’d texted her earlier, she’d been starting her evening shift at the hair salon. “I’ll be fine.”

“Arlo you are literally incapable of getting yourself home. You are not fine. I assume Ben’s working?”

“He is.” Staring at the bookshelf at the back of the room, Arlo’s forced to come to the realization that not only is the migraine not getting better — it’s getting worse. Half of the bookshelf has been taken over by a cloud of gray. He closes his eyes and when they open, more of the bookshelf is obscured. 

“You sound miserable. Oh my god, Arlo, you can’t die. You are one of the only coworkers I get along with.”

“Dorothy’s all right,” Arlo mumbles, finally giving into the urge to put Felix on speaker so he can rest his head on the desk.

“Dorothy’s over seventy years old and batshit crazy,” Felix says, sounding incredulous. 

The smallest of smiles manages to form on Arlo’s lips. “Sure, but you like her.”

“I do,” Felix says, fondly. “Never a dull day when Dorothy’s around.” There’s a pause as though Felix is finally remembering the point of this call had nothing to do with their school’s

 Calculus teacher. “This still does not mean you can die. I will call Ben and make him — oh. Oh, wait.  I have an idea!”

* * * 

“Do you want me to stop anywhere and get you something? Tea, maybe? For your throat? Or soup? You should probably eat.”

The voice should probably be soothing to Arlo. It’s deep and warm and all the other good adjectives people usually use to describe nice voices. But between the pounding in his skull and the part of him that associates masculine voices with something akin to fear… it’s anything but soothing.

“I don’t think I can eat.” It’s now to the point that Arlo’s own voice is exacerbating his migraine. Nausea swirls through him and he squeezes his eyes shut as he takes careful, controlled breaths. 

“My bad, sorry,” Connor says, lowering his voice. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a migraine. Eating is probably the last thing you’re thinking of.”

Arlo acknowledges the comment with a small grunt.

“You do need to stay hydrated, though. You’ll only be in worse pain, otherwise. Once we get you home, I’ll make sure you have plenty of water. Unless you want me to stop and get tea? Like I said, it’ll feel nice on your throat. May as well try to alleviate one aspect of your misery, right?”

When Felix had suggested Connor pick him up, Arlo had been adamant that it was completely unnecessary and that he’d rather sleep in his classroom than be subjected to that level of embarrassment. Then he’d thrown up into the classroom trash can — still on speakerphone — and wanted nothing more than to be home in bed. So when Felix insisted again, after expressing understandable disgust at the noises Arlo emitted, he couldn’t decline. He couldn’t do much except groan and wallow in self-pity, actually. 

Not only was there the ever increasing severity of his migraine, but his cold was putting up an absurdly valiant fight. His throat was beyond sore and, after spending an entire day sneezing with no warning, his nose had decided to switch things up.  There was a constant, insistent buzzing that would never culminate in any actual release. So Arlo was forced to sometimes spend a single minute, breath hitching endlessly, until finally he was left with tears running down his face without a sneeze ever surfacing. And of course, there was his RA, which had taken root in his wrists, elbows, and knuckles. So even if he hadn’t been suffering from the migraine, it’d still be challenging to drive.

But even with these reasons, he’s extremely close to regretting the decision. He couldn’t possibly be more of a nuisance if he tried.

“If you’re —” Arlo has to stop to clear his throat and can’t hold back a wince as he does so. “If you’re going to stop somewhere anyway, then, a tea would be good, yes. But, um, only if you’re getting yourself something.”

“I could go for some coffee, honestly,” Connor says, his voice still low. It’s only hurting Arlo’s head a little now. “I’ve spent the day writing, and my brain’s a bit on the foggy side, so caffeine sounds perfect. We’ll stop at the Starbucks up ahead.”

“Plain tea, please. Nothing with, um — it needs to be —” Arlo trails off, completely unable to articulate his thoughts. “Nothing from an animal, I mean,” he finally manages, then mentally reprimands himself for being unable to think of the word ‘vegan.’

“No dairy, got it,” Connor says.

“Or honey.”

“All right. Dairy free and honey free. No problem.”

The two fall into a comfortable silence for the rest of the car ride, except when Connor places the order and hands the tea over. If there’s one positive to being in a state of complete, abject misery, it’s that there’s no expectation for Arlo to feign the ability to hold a conversation like a regular human. 

He finds himself falling into a bit of a doze, so it's slightly jarring when Connor states, “We’re here.”

Blinking open his eyes, Arlo has the stomach sinking realization that his vision is still completely obscured by giant gray splotches. So, he closes them again. 

“Have you taken anything?” Connor asks, his voice practically a whisper.

Arlo manages a humming sound that he hopes conveys his affirmation. 

“You’re not going to be sick are you? You’re white as a sheet.”

Another hum. This time, Arlo doesn’t even know what he means by it.

“Okay…. So, here’s the plan. We’ll get you inside. Maybe you can try to sip some of the tea? Or a little water. I’ll make sure all the lights are off, all the blinds are down, etcetera. Sound good?”

Arlo’s silent for a while as he tries to make sense of Connor’s words. When it clicks, he knows he must grow even paler than before. “Nope. No. No. You don’t — you don’t need to come in.” 

There’s a beat of silence. “I understand that you don’t want me to come in, and I can understand why expressing vulnerability in front of someone you don’t know all too well is… less than desirable. But, we should be reasonable about this. You can’t even open your eyes. How are you going to get to bed?”

Another wave of nausea takes hold of Arlo. He manages to jerk open the car door before proceeding to be violently sick.

This quite possibly may be the worst day of Arlo’s life. It’s certainly the most humiliating. 

The worst part isn’t the now searing pain in his throat, or that his nose is streaming uncontrollably, or that he can’t stop coughing. Or even that Connor witnessed the entire thing and is now trying patting him on the back and guiding him to a standing position. No, it’s that Arlo is in such a pitiful state, that he has no choice but to accept the assistance. With the sun shining brightly, causing glares to bounce off each car in sight, keeping his eyes open is simply not an option. So he lets Connor guide him around the puddle of vomit and onto the front porch.

He continues to cough while his nose still buzzes with stuck sneezes. He digs out his housekey from his pocket with a shaking, aching hand. Connor wordlessly takes it and opens the door far more quickly than Arlo could.

Cracking his eyes open, he spots the couch, and makes to hurry over to it, but stumbles and knocks his knee against the coffee table instead. 

“Easy,” Connor says, voice gentle. “Go slowly, you’re almost there.” 

After this experience, there better never be another instance of Arlo breaking out in hives during a social situation because he has surely reached the pinnacle of embarrassment. This has to count as exposure therapy. 

With Connor’s hand on his back as a guide, he does manage to make it to the couch. He’s immediately horizontal, burying his head into one of the bed pillows left there from last night. 

His  nose is running so much, though, that he is rendered incapable of becoming comfortable. 

A particularly sharp tickle flares in Arlo’s sinuses, and his breath hitches and — 

Nothing. 

“Here’s some tissues,” Connor says, handing over a box that Arlo has no choice but to accept. 

Aching fingers grip the tissues over his nose as he releases an obscene amount of mucus.

“Okay, so,” Connor begins, sounding hesitant. “I texted Ben and he has to work late.”

That statement should not cause his eyes to prickle with tears, yet here he is, blinking them back. 

“I don’t feel great about leaving you alone, is the thing. I know you’ll probably be fine, but it’s hard not to feel like a dick, you know? If I just left you here, I mean. You’re obviously not in a good state, and all my work obligations are finished, and with Felix away — well, there’s no reason for me not to stay. So, I’ll just hang around for a few hours until Ben gets here.”

An objection begins to bubble to the surface, but unfortunately, so does another bout of nausea so he grits his teeth and stays silent as Connor shuffles around the room.

Arlo’s not sure how much time goes by — maybe ten minutes? Twenty? — when he finally opens his eyes. It seems the pain medication may be finally kicking in. Or it may simply be that he’s finally somewhere quiet and dark. Connor, true to his word, made sure all the blinds were down and curtains pulled. The only sound he hears is the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock. As he has the thought, he hears another noise, something he can’t quite identify. Then he hears it again.

“Ht’chh!”

A sneeze?

“Ht’chiew! Hh hh’chh! Ht’chiew! HHtchiew!”

Definitely sneezes. He can hear Connor moving around the kitchen, but it’s obvious he’s trying to be as quiet, his steps soft and controlled. The sneezes, though….

“HHTCHIEW! HEH! HETCHIEW!”

They’re only getting louder. 

Thankfully Connor doesn’t sneeze in that obtrusive way a lot of men do. They’re far from scream-sneezes. The last couple did sound forceful, though. Hopefully whatever is bothering Connor’s nose gives him a  break soon because the only way Arlo can survive this evening without combusting from embarrassment is to pretend Connor’s not here in his house — a hard feat to manage when the man’s letting out sneeze after sneeze.

“HEH’CHIEW!”

And it goes on like that for a while. Arlo’s own nose teases him again as though encouraged by the sound of someone else letting loose their sneezes. But his sinuses remain stubborn, refusing to grant him relief.

“You’re awake. That’s good,” Connor says, making his way into the living room. “Do you - hh - have any….” He stops, closing his eyes, holding a finger in the air in the universal sign for “wait a minute.” Then he reaches into his pockets, pulling out a tissue that he wraps carefully around his nose. “Hmp’shh! Hmp’shh! Hehchiew! HEhchiew! Etchiew!” 

“You look worse than I feel,” Arlo says before being able to stop himself. Connor’s grip remains tight around the tissues, ensuring no spray escapes, but his eyes are swollen and leaking uncontrollably. 

“I forgot you had a cat,” Connor admits from behind the tissues. “That’s what I came to ask about. Do you keep - hh - do you keep any antihistamines?” 

Oh.

 There’s been a time or two where Ben or Arlo’s fur-covered clothes have been enough to set off Connor’s cat allergy. Since realizing, the two always make sure to lint roll the fur off as much as possible when they know they’ll be meeting Connor. Aside from that, it’s not something Arlo’s ever needed to think much about, so he’d forgotten.

It’s, however, now at the forefront of his mind.

“HEH’chiew! It’s not - ht’chh! - it’s not gonna stop until I take s-hh-somethihh -hitchhiew!”

Somehow even in the middle of a brutal sneezing fit, Connor manages to maintain a certain composure; every single sneeze makes it into the tissues.

“You don’t have to stay here and poison yourself. Just go home,” Arlo says. But the last words catch in his throat and he’s left coughing desperately into his elbow. When he’s able to breathe again, the stars in his vision force him  to close his eyes again.

“I’m not leaving a sick friend to suffer alone when he can barely move. I’m not an asshole.”

Arlo’s cheeks flush for a different reason. “You don’t have to do that,” he says, fixing his gaze on the hardwood floor. 

“What?” Connor asks.

“Say… that. That I’m, you know.” The blush intensifies and Arlo’s one step away from burying his face beneath the blanket. “A friend. I’m barely even Felix’s friend. It’s just — you don’t have to do that.” 

Connor looks like he wants to say something, but he’s occupied with another set of sneezes that he deftly catches into the tissues. “HT’shh! T’chiew! HHtchiew! Holy shit, I forgot how bad this can be,” he says, as if to himself. “Anyway, I don’t understand what you’re talking about. You don’t feel like Felix is your friend?”

This conversation is making him feel like he’s five years old. “He’s a work friend.”

With the aura clouding his vision finally fading, he can see Connor’s brows raise. “I think he’d be disappointed to hear that.”

“What? He wouldn’t.” The words replay through Arlo’s mind and his eyes widen. “I’m not trying to be mean. It’s just that’s — that’s how it is, I think. I don’t really make friends.”

“Arlo, please look me in the eyes as I say this,” Connor says, sternly.

Not realizing he’d even been looking away, he forces himself to meet Connor’s gaze. 

“Felix one hundred percent views you as his friend. He has never referred to you as an ‘acquaintance’ or even a colleague. You’re just Arlo. Or, on occasion, ‘the best thing that’s ever happened to Ben.’ So, I promise, there is no reason to be dubious about calling Felix a friend. Or, myself, for that matter,” he adds, rubbing a knuckle against his nose. “I’ve told you before that I want to get to know you better. You’re very, uh, what’s a good word for it? Calm. You’re very calm compared to everyone else Felix spends time with, which is something I appreciate.”

“Oh,” Arlo says after a moment. “Uh, thank you.”

As inadequate of a response it is, it’s surprising when Connor actually laughs. “Succinct. I also appreciate that about you.” He pauses, breath hitching again. “I’d appreciate you even more if you could tell me whether or not there’s any antihistamines in this house.” That last part comes out rushed and it only takes a second to realize the reason.

Connor’s tissues are back and he continues letting out sneeze after sneeze into them. After about the ninth one, it occurs to Arlo that he should probably mention that there are antihistamines in the house.

He sits up with every intention to stand, but the world starts spinning before he makes it up. So he squeezes his eyes shut for the thousandth time today. 

“You okay?” Connor asks in what is probably only a brief respite of sneezing.

“Dizzy,” Arlo mutters, then leans forward, with his head between his knees.

“Do you need a garbage can?”

Shaking his head, Arlo mumbles a “no,” then immediately regrets moving his head at all. “Uh, maybe?” he adds. “Oh, and there’s something in the bathroom cabinet. The medicine cabinet. For your allergies, I mean.”

Connor hums, then disappears out of the room. Deciding there’s no imminent threat of puking or passing out, he relaxes back into the couch, curling up on his side.

“Found the Benadryl,” Connor states when he returns a few minutes later. He has a wastebasket in hand that he worldlessly sets down in front of Arlo. “Also found the reason for why I’ve been sneezing my head off. She was sitting next to the bathtub. Does she get scared of new people?”

“Yeah, terrified. Surprised you managed to see her at all.”

“Well, after I said hello, she rubbed herself all over my leg, so I think I won her over.” He takes what Arlo hopes is a fresh tissue and folds it over his nose in that same careful way. “HHT’shiew! Hhh’tshiew! Shh! ETshiew! Ht’shhiew! ‘Shiew!”

“Sorry she’s having such an effect on you. I knew you were allergic, but, uh, I didn’t realize it was like this.”

“Yes, I’ve been cursed. That's why instead of having a nice fluffy cat in our house, Felix and I have a snake.”

“He does love snakes,” Arlo says, laughing. 

His phone’s ringtone interrupts the conversation. It’s an unknown number, but the area code checks out, and since he’s been waiting on a call from his doctor’s office about rescheduling an appointment, he reluctantly accepts the call. There’s a split moment where he realizes the phone is still on speaker mode before he hears the voice on the other end.

“Arlo?”

If he hadn’t been lying down on his side, it may have been easier to maintain his grip on his phone, but he’s spent the entire day straining his joints. So, it’s not surprising when the phone slips out of his fingers and onto the hardwood. 

“Arlo? Hi, listen, don’t hang up.”

This can’t be happening again.

“Arlo. Hey, I know you blocked me. I know. But, I’m using a buddy’s phone because, well, I wanted to check on you. I know we didn’t leave on the best of terms yesterday.”

Once again, instead of doing something productive like grabbing the phone or telling Jeremy to leave him alone, he simply freezes. He stares at the device as Jeremy’s voice continues to come through the speaker. 

“And I didn’t want to part ways when we still had such a misunderstanding.”

“Arlo, who is that?” This voice is different. 

Connor.

Connor, of all people, is still in the room witnessing this. Arlo needs to grab the phone.

“Arlo, who is that?” Connor asks again. “You’re shaking.”

Before Arlo can answer the question, Connor’s already picking the phone up off the floor. 

“Hi, there,” Connor says into the phone. “Arlo’s busy. May I ask why you are calling?”

He sounds as though it’s a run of the mill work call, as though nothing is amiss. As though he answers Arlo’s phone every day.

There’s a long silence, and then, “I don’t know who you are, but this is between me and Arlo. So just hand the phone over to him.”

“I would do that, but the fact that you’re using a ‘buddy’s phone’ after he blocked your number is enough for me to infer that you’re a piece of shit, so, I’ll pass on that.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Let Arlo speak.”

The speakerphone conversation unfolds like a play, like Arlo is nothing more than an audience member with no agency, no ability to change anything. 

“There’s some pretty clear evidence showing me that he doesn’t want to speak with you. So, I think I’ll do everyone a favor and disconnect this c —”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Jeremy’s voice is venomous. “Listen, you can’t, you can’t —” He stops, taking in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. “You can’t judge the situation by what he tells  you. Exes say things. They’re not always true. I want to apologize. You’re keeping me from doing something that would make him feel better. Just give me one minute.”

Brow furrowed, Connor gives Arlo a meaningful look. Without making the conscious decision to, Arlo gives a barely perceptible shake of his head.

Turning his full attention to the phone, he says, “Not happening. Listen, I work in law enforcement. If we need to take legal action to arrange a restraining order, I can assure you it won’t be a problem. And if you violate that restraining order, well… Let’s just say I advise you not to do that.” Connor’s voice is even and calm, but the underlying threat is impossible to miss. 

There’s some frustrated huffing noises on the other end of the phone before the line finally goes dead. 

Connor sets the phone down onto the coffee table before taking a place next to Arlo on the couch. When Connor’s gaze meets his, he looks away, lightly pulling at a loose thread on a throw blanket. The wall clock audibly ticks away for several minutes while the two sit in silence.

“Do you think he believed me?” Connor’s question finally causes Arlo’s gaze to shift away from the blanket. “About the law enforcement thing? I don’t know shit about filing for a restraining order. Is that even what you say — filing? Fuck, I really know nothing.” He laughs, running a hand through his hair. 

A startled laugh breaks free from Arlo. “You sounded confident enough. I think he bought it.”

“Good. The guy’s obviously a dick.” Arlo gives a tight smile and nods before Connor continues. “So, clearly, there’s a story there. One I’m not interested in. Unless you want to tell me, of course; I’d gladly listen. But seeing how just  a few minutes ago, you couldn’t even call me a ‘friend,’ I’m leaning toward you not being comfortable with that.” 

“Um….” Arlo begins, but no other words follow. “Uh, I —” He tries again before shaking his head.

The corners of Connor’s eyes crinkle when he smiles this time; he’s not offended. Arlo’s shoulders relax. “Like I said, you don’t have to. It’s extremely personal; I get it. But, I don’t need details to know that I loathe that guy. If I see his face, I think I’d happily punch it.”

Eyebrows shooting up, Arlo asks, “I didn’t take you for the kind of guy to get into fights.” 

“I wouldn’t provoke one, but, I’m also not going to let an abusive asshole take advantage of someone just because he can.”

Once again, Arlo’s gaze finds the throw blanket. Connor knows nothing about Jeremy aside from the minute long phone call. How is everyone so quick to call him abusive when Arlo dated the man for eight years and still isn’t sure the word applies? 

“How’s your migraine?” Connor asks, and for once Arlo is glad to have attention drawn to his health.

“Fading,” he says. “As long as I stay still.” 

“Good. Your voice still sounds wrecked, though, and you’re incredibly pale. But that could be from the —” Connor stops, chews his lip, then continues. “Could be from a few things, I guess. Anyway, I think I’ll still stay for a while. And the antihistamines seem to be working pretty well, so I won’t be sneezing my head off anymore, which is a plus. Is it okay if I cook something? I saw a few things in the kitchen I could use. I’d replace the ingredients, of course. It’s just that I’m feeling pretty hungry myself and you should probably eat, too.”

“Help yourself to whatever you like,” Arlo says, before curling back up on his side, resting his head on the bed pillow. “Good luck, though. There’s not much to work with.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

* * * 

“You let him sleep in his shoes! His fucking shoes. Not to mention he’s still wearing jeans and a polo.”

“I’m sorry, but are you implying you wanted me to undress your boyfriend? Because that’s what I’m hearing.”

“What. The. Fuck. Of course not. But if he was so sick that he’d been puking, you could have fucking encouraged him to do it himself.”

“Right, because I don’t know about you, but when I’m so sick that I’m throwing up, my first concern is definitely clothing.”

“That’s why you should have encouraged him! That was my entire point, but god forbid you ever listen.”

“Jesus, Ben, he’s not a toddler. He doesn’t need encouragement, and he’s fine. You just want to always make things as dramatic as possible and —”

“Hmppsshh! P’shh! Hep’shhhhoo!”

The sneezes spray wetly against the pillow, but Arlo’s still groggy brain is finding it difficult to muster any concern.

“Bless you.” Ben manages to convey so much concern in those two words. 

“Thanks,” Arlo whispers. He swallows, then winces.

“Fuck, you keep sounding worse and worse every time I see you.” 

Finally cracking open his eyes, he sees Ben heading toward him. He promptly takes a seat on the couch and lays a hand against Arlo’s forehead, then his cheeks. “You’re warm.”

“Hmmpshoo!” The sneeze is buried into the pillow, but he’s awake enough now to grimace at the grossness of being ill in front of people.

“I’m so sorry you had to work today. And that you got a migraine. And then threw up. And — worse of all — had to spend your evening with Connor.” 

“For fuck’s sake,” Connor says, groaning. He’s, oddly, rearranging items on the coffee table. 

Arlo wants to say that the evening was surprisingly nice. The two spent an hour watching Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory before Arlo’s body had given into the need for sleep. It turns out that Connor is the perfect person to watch a movie with. He didn’t talk through the entire thing, but he also didn’t stay completely quiet. He laughed at all the appropriate places and rarely needed to pause the film. It was relaxing. All that to say — he was a far better movie partner than Ben, not that Arlo would admit that to him.

Most importantly, Connor never brought up the conversation with Jeremy. They just watched the movie while they ate vegetable soup. When Arlo had finished his soup, Connor wordlessly took the bowl, then brought back some water and more tissues. While it was slightly embarrassing, of course, to be fussed over by someone who wasn’t Ben, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Connor’s demeanor is so confident and assured that it was as though he wasn’t giving any  thought at all to what he was doing; there was no judgement or even pity. He saw a problem — such as Arlo running out of tissues —and he solved it. Simple.

So, yes, Arlo wants to tell Ben the evening wasn’t bad at all, and he shouldn’t give Connor a hard time about it. But when he opens his mouth, that’s not what comes out.

“Hht’shooo! Hh’shh!”

“Here take some tissues,” Ben says, handing a few over. But when Arlo tries to take them, he finds his fingers have completely stiffened. He can’t keep the grimace off his face.

“We’ll use the hand warmer thingy in a minute. That always helps,” Ben says in a gentle voice, carding his hand through Arlo’s curls. 

“Htt’SHHH!” Arlo says in response, because this is apparently all he can do now. 

‘Okay, everything’s cleaned up,” Connor states. “So I’m going to head out. Arlo, I put my number in your phone, so please feel free to reach out. About anything.”

“Oh,” he says, feeling the urge to rub the back of his neck. “Um. Th- hhtshh!”

Connor chuckles softly. “Feel better soon. And, Ben, uh… bye, I guess,” he says, before turning toward the door.

“Bye, I guess,” Ben mumbles.

Once Connor’s gone, Ben curls onto the couch, facing Arlo. 

“You’re very brave, getting that close. I have no control over my nose today,” Arlo says, voice still a whisper.

“I give no shits. Just wanna lay with you. I’m so fucking tired, oh my god.”

“Sorry you had to work late.”

“And I’m sorry you threw up,” Ben says.

“You already said that. And, anyway, I’m sorry I kept you up all night.”

Smiling, Ben says, “And, again, I’m sorry that you got stuck with Connor. Your turn.”

Arlo feels his own smile forming. “I’m sorry that basically all the tissues are gone. And some of your Benadryl. It turns out Connor is very allergic to Classy.”

Ben grins smugly. “That’s my girl! Classy!” he calls out, turning his head away from Arlo. “There’s my baby!”

Classy saunters in as though she hadn’t spent the last few hours hiding in the bathroom. 

She stares at the two for one moment before hopping onto Ben’s side.

“Ow. You have claws, sweetheart. Be careful.”

In response, Classy purrs and rubs her face against Ben’s. 

“What was that shit about Connor giving you his number?” Ben asks, though Arlo notices his eyes are shut.

“Uh.”

Ben snorts. “You have to give more than that. You can’t just coast through life saying ‘uh’ to everything, you know,” he teases.

“Um…”

“Or ‘um,’ for that matter. Oh my god. You are an impossible person.”

“I think he wants us to be friends,” Arlo confesses.

“Connor?” Ben’s eyes are now opened and there’s an alertness there that wasn’t there before. “Well, of course he does. Who wouldn’t want to be friends with you? But, why would you want to be friends with him?”

“He’s very….” He searches for the word. “Calming. And he’s fun to watch movies with. And he may have threatened Jeremy over the phone to have a restraining order put on him if he ever contacts me again.” He’d buried his head into Ben’s chest as he said this, hoping they’d be muffled. 

They aren’t.

“He… how does he — When? How? Why did they even talk? What events led up to that? What the fuck, Arlo?”

“Ben?”

“What?”

“I don’t feel well.” He makes sure to say it in his most pitiful sounding voice, which isn't hard to do, given it’s been reduced to a rasp.

“I know, baby.”

“So, is it okay if I just sleep? For a bit? And talk about everything later?”

There’s a long sigh from Ben before he says, “Fine, but we do have to talk about it.”

Aside from Arlo’s frequent sniffles and Classy’s rhythmic purrs, they fall into a silence. 

“You’re not working tomorrow, right?” Ben asks. “I mean, surely not.”

“I really wanted to. If I miss tomorrow, that’ll be three days I missed in just this week ....”

“Mm hmm, I hear you, but here’s something to consider: you are literally dying.”

Arlo laughs, then winces at how phlemy it sounds. “Not literally dying. Just….” He chews his lips, considering. “Slightly incapacitated.” 

“Is that something you can be slightly?” Ben asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“Sure,” Arlo mutters. “Hp’ngt!” 

“Holding it in like that is bad,” Ben mumbles half-heartedly. He’s clearly close to sleeping, himself.

“So is sneezing on your cheek,” Arlo retorts.

“Rather you do that than get a sinus infection.”

And how that statement has Arlo’s heart twisting with an almost unbearable fondness. “I know you would,” he says softly, and even though his fingers feel unusable, he uses them anyway to lightly stroke Ben’s cheek. “You know, you got mad at Connor for ‘letting me’ fall asleep in my clothes. You realize we’re both about to do that, right? You still have your shoes on.”

“Shoes shmoes.”

“I… don’t have a rebuttal to that.”

“‘Course not. It’s a classic defense for a reason.”

“Let’s make a deal, maybe? If you get up and go to bed, I’ll stay home from work tomorrow.”

Just as Arlo expected, Ben’s eyes snap open. “Okay, you’re playing dirty.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m playing extremely fairly. My intent is for you to get some good rest.”

“And I hate you for that.” Ben’s yawn is huge as he stretches. Classy doesn’t seem to mind the movement, adjusting to the new position rather quickly. “But fine. I’ll go to bed, and you’ll stay home tomorrow. Deal?”

“Deal.”

It’s probably a good idea, anyway. With the wedding on Friday and the birthday plans on Saturday, he can use a day off work. Surely with the extra rest, he’ll be healthy — well, healthy enough — for the weekend.

[warmasf]

The fact that some people just naturally get very sneezy (im talking constant, “can’t stop” sneezing,) with a cold is so so hot for no reason

[rozsnz]

hypothetically.. what if we got a sick day chapter in unrivaled.. please rachel we need this

[sneezology]

nothing compares to the beauty of a nose completely pink around the edges.. shiny with snot leaking past twitching nostrils, down the contours of the philtrum and cupid’s bow.. far beyond anything a sniffle could contain.. lips gently parted and glimmering with wetness, whether it be for a lack of airflow or anticipation of the next explosive sneeze <3

[snzyskies]

New fav clip!!

Wet, Shirtless, towel around waist scrubbing his nose ARE U KIDDING 😭😭😭😭

[witchysniffles]

so my roommate's mom talked us into trying a paper products subscription and i came home from work to find THIS on the stoop 😯

[witchysniffles]

AM I BEING FUCKING PUNKED RIGHT NOW

[brandnewcouch]

the de/vil w/ears pr/ada is such a blessing of a movie because wdym we got hot smoky eye visibly and audibly cold ridden emily blunt for that many scenes like you’re KIDDING 😩😩😩

[grayskies2525]

A New Way of Sneezing

Here is my OC, Felix, suffering with a tremendously sneezy cold while at a work conference. 

CW: Mess

Felix’s POV

There had been signs leading to Felix’s current situation. Though, in his defense, the first day of the conference had been fine — or, well, maybe not necessarily fine. His throat had been the kind of sore that, historically, never bode well for his future self. Still, he’d listened to all the speakers, participated in all the required small-group discussions, and even contributed some of his own ideas about how to engage high-schoolers in inquiry-based science. There’d been a burning sensation that radiated throughout his sinuses, but he’d chalked it up to a leftover reaction from choking on his Pepsi earlier in the day. Overall, he’d had a productive day and had returned to the hotel to his waiting boyfriend, Connor, and the two had enjoyed their evening. So much, in fact, that Felix barely noticed he’d started to sneeze a little more than normal. 

Now, though? Now he's noticing. 

He’d hoped the flu he’d had a couple of years ago had been a fluke. Never — never —  had he ever sneezed so much in his life. He’s confident he’d sneezed more during the course of that single illness than he’d had in all his other thirty plus years of life combined. But then there was the Christmas where he’d caught what he’d thought was an exceptionally bad cold — the kind that caused ceaseless sneezing he’d never experienced prior to that awful bout of the flu. 

He’s not one to be sick often. He can count on one hand how many respiratory illnesses he’s had in the last five years. The problem is that there seems to be a new development in how his immune system responds to these viruses.

Only now as he jerks forward to stifle his fourth sneeze in two minutes does he truly begin accepting that his body is changing and that this may actually just be his life now.

And if that’s the case, then… fuck.

Several trays with some sort of weird, cloudy liquid are in front of him, and his “table partners” are busy trying to design a test to identify the substance. The idea is that they work together as a team to make the experiment themselves, as opposed to following step-by-step instructions. There’s value to the method of educators assuming the roles of students. Felix knows this. But in this moment, he’s trying so hard not to sneeze all over everyone and everything that he no longer cares much about this.

He brings his wrist up to rub at his nose in hopes to alleviate the itch burrowed deeply inside his sinuses. 

Big mistake.

“HETchnnx’t!”

The sneeze is stifled against his wrist, which would be fine — would be great, actually — if that had been the only one trying to claw its way out. But there’s more — so many more — and Felix is more than ready to call it a day and retreat to his hotel room. 

But, no, he’s stuck here trying to record his teammates' findings without spraying snot all over the experiment. 

“Did you get that?”

Sniffling hard, Felix looks with bleary eyes at the man across from him. His nametag reads Kyle. “Huh?” Felix asks.

“My prediction. Did you write it down? Since you agreed to be the recorder?” the man says, his brow raised.

Felix had agreed to be the recorder. Because collecting data seemed better than compromising the integrity of the experiment by sneezing all over the unidentified substance. But he hadn’t anticipated how much attention this particular duty required. 

“Um, yeah, you — heh —” He shakes his head quickly, then rubs fiercely at the ridiculously inflamed organ he’s unfortunate to have as a nose. “I — hehhh —” Now a tear rolls down his cheek as the prickle sharpens. “Sorry, you s — hh — said that you noticed — I’m sorry, but I have to sneeze.” He’s barely able to get out the words before he’s spraying into the crook of his arm. “HEHNg’tCHhhhoo! HEHNkt’sssshhh!” 

“Bless you,” says the older woman to his left. Her name tag displays her as Barbara. She must be close to retirement and probably resents being here more than anyone, but she’s wearing a sympathetic expression now. This is nice considering the man — a young teacher who looks fresh out of college — is staring at him with an expression of disgust. 

‘Thadks,” Felix says, sending the older woman a quick smile before writing something down on notebook paper he vaguely recalls Kyle mentioning. 

The final member of their group, Amir, is entranced by his work and hasn’t given Felix’s mini-eruptions any notice, thank god. 

Someone mutters something about test strips and suddenly there’s beakers in front of him and the very distinct smell of vinegar and now he has to sneeze even more because that scent is just so — 

“HEHnk’t! HEPng’t! Ng’t-choo! HEHmpkt’shoo! HAHnk’xxt — ow!”

“Bless you,” says Barbara again, as Amir finally looks up from his own beaker with the barest hint of interest in his expression.

“You sound sick,” says Kyle, and there’s no way the statement is anything other than an accusation. 

“I think I may be a little under the weather,” Felix admits. Then, feeling moisture trickle out of his left nostril, he gives a huge sniff. A sniff that becomes extremely counterproductive because it ignites something inside his sinuses that has him, a moment later, expelling everything from his nostrils with a massive, “HEH’NGtffXxtchhoo!”

Kyle literally scoots his chair away from the table in a way that Felix finds overly dramatic  — though only slightly, because there is a fair amount of liquid now splattered across his page. The notebook sheet of data now serves more as evidence of his cold than of any actual science. 

“Excuse me,” Felix says, sheepishly, his cheeks heating.

“It’s a bad season for colds and flus,” Barbara says, giving a soft smile. “It’s hard to stay healthy in this line of work.”

Still staring at the dampened sheet of paper, Felix only nods quickly. 

“I’m, um, not usually like this,” Felix says, sniffling thickly. “Okay, I mean, well, I didn’t used to be like this. Like, a cold was a cold, you know? But now, the past couple of times I’ve been sick, I —” His eyes are practically rolling into the back of his head as he crushes his arm against his mouth and nose. “HEH’NGtfXx’tch!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be here, then. You surely know as a teacher of biology that with a cold this symptomatic, that you are highly contagious,” Kyle says.

Laughing awkwardly and rubbing his neck, Felix can only mutter a small, “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Hey, go easy. Surely you know what it’s like to need the PD hours. He’s already here. Of course he’s not just going to stay in his hotel room because of a cold,”  Barbara says. Felix is beginning to love this woman.

“I mean, if I were this sick,” Kyle says, his sentence trailing off, as he gestures at Felix. 

Felix wants to launch into defending himself. To say he’s not actually that sick. He doesn’t even have a fever, thank you very much. But it’s as though something’s taken possession of his sinuses because with no warning, he snaps forward and begins sneezing over and over again.

“Hngtchoooo! Gnt’chooo! EHHshooo! EHHHckSHOOO! EH shoo eh shoo! Eh shoo! AH eh EHSHOO!”

He’s not going to make it. He’s not going to make it to the end of this damn conference. 

He should’ve known better. He should have known from past experiences that when his nose is this full to the brim with a virus, he is no longer in control of his body. That trying to maintain any semblance of control is utterly futile and will only end in him being humiliated.

There is still a small amount of control he does have, though.

So, standing up, he gives his teammates a quick smile and apology before standing up from the table to make his way to the conference room’s exit. 

* * *

Connor’s POV

He’s halfway through reading a Blake Crouch novel when he hears the sound of the hotel door opening. Frowning, he checks the time on his smart watch. The watch confirms that, yes, it is indeed too early for his boyfriend to be returning from his conference.

Yet there he is walking through the door. Felix has a certain tendency to look messy at the best of times. Connor is sure he’s never seen the guy successfully button a shirt on the first try or even make it through an entire day without spilling something on himself somewhere. His current state, however, is more than the result of being carefree and chaotic. His nose is a distinct type of red and there’s a tear trailing down his right cheek. There are only two possibilities. Connor’s boyfriend has either spent a significant amount of time crying. Or  —

“Hmpkxxxt’ch!” 

“Oh, bl —”

“HMPKxxxT’CHH!”

Connor almost laughs because that second sneeze was a much more aggressive form of the first one, as though his body was pissed off at him for trying to hold it in. 

“I think if you’d let them out, you’d feel better,” Connor says slowly, testing the waters.

He’s met with a vigorous head shake and a finger held in the air.

“HAP’tCHNnk!”

“Right,” Connor says, drawing out the word. “Or you can let your sinuses explode. A completely logical and reasonable choice.”

“I let them out earlier. Di-hh-disaster.” 

Connor winces, imagining the scenario. “Ideally, you’d release them into tissues.” After the comment earns him a glare, he sighs, standing up from the bed. He walks over to the bathroom and grabs a handful of tissues. When he returns, Felix is leaning his back against the wall. 

“Here, use these. No need to let it just leak like that,” Connor says, handing over the tissues.

“It’s going to be so gross,” Felix says, biting his lip.

“It’s okay. You’re allowed to be gross.”

Taking a shaky breath, Felix shoots Connor a dubious look before he crushes the tissues to his face and begins to… well, to do something very gross.

As Felix fills the tissues, Connor heads to the bathroom to grab more, mentally making a note of everything he will need to buy. They will definitely need tissues for the eight hour long car ride home. 

When he sees Felix again, he’s somehow still blowing his nose — into paper that’s practically mulch at this point. Felix takes the new handful from Connor, looking grateful. 

As Connor heads toward Felix’s suitcase, pulling out some sweatpants and a hoodie, Felix’s noseblowing has somehow gotten more aggressive. Would one box of tissues last an entire car ride? Surely so… but, to be safe, he should buy a couple. He’ll also need something for the sinus headache Felix will undoubtedly develop. So, tissues, Tylenol, possibly cough drops, though there’s not been any coughing yet. Maybe a thermometer in case he starts running a fever while on the road? 

“Eck’fshhuuuhhh!”

“Bless you!”

“EHHH’CkkSHHUH! Oh my — ugh, ew. I hate being sick.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Connor responds, turning around to face Felix. The tears streaming down his face make Connor’s heart clench. “How about you sit on the bed and get more comfortable?”

Felix blinks slowly, looking at the bed as though the thought never occurred to him. He manages to make it to the bed, breath hitching the entire time. His body is clearly preparing for another grand display of illness. 

“I’m going to unbutton your shirt, okay?” Connor says, placing his hands on the bottom button of the shirt. “No need for you to be this dressed up when our new plans involve only resting and relaxing.”

“Hhh hh hhh hhh!” is Felix’s only response.

“Maybe a thumbs up? A nod? Kind of feel weird stripping you down without explicit permission.”

After a weak, short-lived, but definitely there thumbs up, Connor begins the process of undressing his boyfriend in a way much different from how he’d earlier been fantasizing. Although there are definitely similarities. Felix is flushed and gasping for breath; his expression even resembles the one he makes when he’s right on the cusp of — 

“HEH’TSHOO!” 

Warm spray coats Connor’s hands, and he closes his eyes, gritting his teeth for just a moment. 

“Sorry,” Felix gasps out before managing to turn his head this time for a “EHtshhhoo!”

“It’s all right,” Connor murmurs. Because it’s Felix and that’s what makes the words true.

He continues unbuttoning, Felix’s abdomen moving in response to the apparent ever-present desire to sneeze. 

“It was so embarrassing. At the - hh - conference. I just kept- hh — I mean, I just couldn’t stop sneezing.”

“It sounds like you were miserable,” Connor says, removing the shirt, laying it down on the mattress. “Raise your arms.”

Felix’s arms immediately go up. Connor pulls on Felix’s old, gray college hoodie over his head. He chews the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. There’s something so unfair about how adorable this man looks while sick. His mouth is partially open, each of his breaths coming out shaky. His eyes are red-rimmed and still leaking tears. Hand covered by the hoodie sleeve, Felix scrubs at his nose sniffling thickly at the same time. Never has anyone else ever looked so endearing while so utterly cold-ridden. Even with his nostrils glistening.  His brown eyes meet Connor’s and he remembers in that moment that he’s so fucked when it comes to Felix. The things he would do… the crimes he would commit without question if Felix so much as asked…

“ECKshoo!” The sneeze, thankfully, doesn’t land on Connor’s face. It was a close call. “I really wanted to be there, you know? I think I’ll still have my hours without all of today’s activities. But I was excited for the - hh - the next speaker.”

It’s when unzipping Felix’s pants that Connor gets a direct hit. “EKMKT’shhoo!” It somehow feels as though wet spray is coating his entire upper body. He feels it on his face, his neck… it must be all over his hair.

“I’m so sorry. I tried to hold it. But all my body wants to do is sneeze. If this is what being sick is - hh - gonna be like from now on, I’m w-w-whhhh - wearing a hazmat suit to work.”

“Wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Connor says as Felix lies flat across the bed so Connor can strip him of his khakis. 

Felix sneezes only once as Connor pulls the black joggers over his legs, though his breath hitches the whole time. Once comfortably dressed, Felix gets under the covers. Finally settled, he looks at Connor and there’s something to his expression that seems… he can’t quite pinpoint it. Almost frightened? Apprehensive? But why would he feel…

Ah. It clicks as Felix snaps forward. 

“Hmkptshhh! PTSHH! EHNg’txxxshhh! AHH pshh! Ahh’pssh! Eh’shh! EH’sshh!”

Felix continues sneezing, one after the other, sounding as though they’re toppling over each other with the force of trying to come out. Connor joins his boyfriend in bed, wrapping an arm around him and rubbing his shoulder, the way he’s done in the past when Felix hasn’t gotten like this. 

“HHuhHHTsnkkxxx! HHHH! Oh my — oh my god. HEHNkt’sssshhh!”

Heart twisting, Connor rubs harder as though that will make the discomfort go away.

“Would you still l-hhhhh- love me if I heh… if I … HEt’SHOOO! HET’SHOO! Goddammit! Hemkpt’shhh!” 

Cold-laden droplets are absolutely coating this hotel comforter — not to mention the air.

But Connor only grimaces. 

“Would you still love me if I HET’SHoo!”

“Would I still love you if you were a worm?” Connor asks, brow raised. He’d managed to move past that particular meme unscathed, though now, it seems that is changing.

Felix aggressively shakes his head. “N-n heh no. If I — HH! Ugh. If — I never stopped sneezing? Would you still love me?” 

A laugh falls from Connor’s mouth before he even fully registers the words. “Sweetheart, if I can still love you after you’ve had two bean burritos from Taco Bell, then I can certainly love you if you never stop sneezing.”

Connor’s about to get up to fetch more tissues when Felix’s now hoarse voice asks, “What if I never stopped sneezing but was also a worm?” He pauses, staring at the ceiling, chewing on his lip. “And also ate two bean burritos from Taco Bell?”

“Would I still love you if you were a sneezy, gassy worm?” Connor asks, the words coming out slowly.

“Mm, yes,” Felix says, shooting Connor with such a bright, crooked smile, that he wonders how his heart is still beating because surely it melted from that smile.

He looks at his extremely sick, extremely disgusting boyfriend. The need for a tissue is, as far as Connor’s concerned, dire at the moment. Felix’s nose is producing mucus at a, quite frankly, alarming rate. As if struck with the same thought, Felix reaches out an arm and swipes it underneath his nose and Connor only winces a little.

He stares for a long moment before shaking his head, letting out a small laugh. “Fuck me, but yeah. Yeah, I think I would,” he finally answers. He feels even more certain when Felix hums in contentment and snuggles against Connor’s chest. Snot is, without a doubt, soaking his sweatshirt, but… it’s Felix. So, he only holds him closer.

[hitching-hyacinth]

contemplating a golden retriever kind of guy and torn between

1) they always seem to get sick in spring instead of winter, it's the damndest thing. what? no, they're not allergic to anything, it's just a little cold!

and

2) they're not sick or anything, it's just allergies! ...a fever? really? well, maybe that makes sense...

[hollanovsnz]

When the QUEEN asks, you answer!!! Thank you very much for the idea and I hope you enjoy, @bluerose777! 💖💖

NSFW (more fluff coming soon, btw), kink!Shane, some mess, lots of nose blowing aka the author's poorly disguised absolutely undisguised fetish

Part 1

——

Two days after Ilya first started coming down with his cold, Shane woke to a slight pain in one ear, a dryness in his throat that wouldn’t abate even with a few coughs to clear it, and, of course, a feeling of stuffy fullness in his nose. He knew that him catching Ilya’s cold had been inevitable - the two had thoroughly taken advantage of Ilya’s sneeziness over the last few days, after all - but he’d still held out some hope that maybe he would get through the week unscathed. No such luck. 

And while yes, they still had plenty of time together before the start of training camp…

“—tchiew! hdt’shiew!”

…quite a bit of that time was going to be spent…

“—hit’chyew! ahh’SHiew!”

…sick and sneezy.

(Although there were certainly worse ways to spend one’s time.)

“Bud’ zdorov, bud’ zdorov, bud’ zdorov, bud’ zdorov,” Ilya repeated dutifully, rubbing up and down Shane’s back with a guilty look in his eyes.  

Shane wiped at his eyes with a tissue and coughed itchily. “You don’t have to say that every time I sneeze.”

Ilya frowned. “Yes, I do. It’s my fault that you sneeze.” He pulled the blankets up a little higher on Shane’s lap. 

Shane snuffled and reached for another tissue. “It’s not your fault, Ilya. Besides, it’s just a little cold.” He turned to the side and blew gently, then, when the pressure in his head refused to subside, blew a little harder. The effort made something in his chest twinge and he started to cough again, which made Ilya even more frowny.

“This cold does not seem so little,” he said before turning away with a few rumbly coughs of his own. 

Speak for yourself, Shane wanted to say. This cold had been a doozy for Ilya since day one, leaving him sneezing in breathless bursts several times an hour. At this point, Shane wasn’t too far behind him, and there was an empty tissue box on his side of the bed to prove it. Now there was a new record for the NHL - Most Combined Sneezes by Hart Trophy-Winning Secret Centerman Boyfriends. The stats nerds would have a field day with that one. The thought made Shane snort, then duck back into his tissue as his nose started to burn with irritation. 

“hish’shiew! ahh’IShhhew!”

“Bud’ zdorov, bud’ zdorov,” Ilya, who had a supportive arm wrapped tightly around Shane, said with a defeated sigh.

Shane blinked away his tears - god, colds made him so impossibly fucking drippy - and touched Ilya’s shoulder. “Ilya. I’m okay. Stop feeling guilty.”

Ilya took a tissue and dabbed all around Shane’s leaking face. “I feel bad that you feel bad,” he said plainly, and Shane felt his heart skip a beat. 

He leaned in and kissed Ilya then - one good thing about sharing a cold was that they no longer had to worry about contagion…not that they’d ever been able to fully keep their hands off each other when one of them was sick. “It’s okay. I guess we get to just relax a little longer.” At this point, even though Shane’s routine had been knocked entirely off-kilter, he was simply too exhausted to let himself be burdened by anxieties about missing his morning run or not eating salmon-comma-brown rice for lunch. Now he just got to be extra snuggly with Ilya, and on a chilly September day when he didn’t feel well, that was all he wanted. 

Ilya pressed the back of his hand to Shane’s forehead and cheeks to check for fever. “Hm, you are capable of relaxing? What has happened to my Shane?”

Shane laughed and swatted Ilya’s hand away. “Fuck you.” 

——

As with many facets of their personalities, Shane and Ilya handled having a cold very differently. 

Shane tried to keep tidy, making sure to have a trash can near his bed to deposit his used tissues into. Ilya, meanwhile, would use a tissue and drop it carelessly next to him on the blankets, surrounding himself with a little flurry of damp crumpled snowballs until Shane scolded him to throw those away, you gross monster. So Ilya would try to make free throws into the trash and, more times than not, miss. The flurry would then stay on the ground until one of them, usually Shane, had the energy to pick them up while out of bed. 

Shane sneezed neatly into his elbow or a tissue. Ilya did his best to cover…which, for him, usually meant aiming loosely at his shoulder or into his hands. With the way he had barely bothered to cover when he’d first caught this cold, despite his initial attempt to hide his symptoms from Shane, it was no wonder that Shane had caught it too. (Would contagion normally disgust him? Yes. But because it was Ilya who had gotten him sick…well. There was something dizzyingly intimate about sharing a cold with the love of his life. But it might have been a different story if it wasn’t the off-season.) Sometimes Ilya would be overtaken by a bout of sneezes so fierce that he forgot to cover altogether, leading to another mini-lecture from Shane about his gross-monsterness. But Shane did take the opportunity when it happened to watch Ilya’s pre- and post- sneeze faces in glorious detail.

Shane blew his nose as unobtrusively as possible, just enough to rid himself of the fullness in his sinuses. Ilya blew like a fucking foghorn at all times, stuffed up as he was. Had Shane not been absurdly attracted to Ilya’s honking blows, it would have driven him absolutely insane. It did still scare him half to death when he tried to drift off to sleep and an unaware Ilya blew like the Titanic setting sail next to him. 

Shane was still a little self-conscious and shy about having this bad of a cold, blushing whenever he had a particularly strong (for him) fit that Ilya would coo over him for. Ilya, meanwhile, didn’t give a fuck that he was a congested mess, allowing himself to sneeze and blow as loudly as he needed to relieve himself of a tickle. Speaking of which…

“AESCHhhhh! hy’AAASHHhhhuh! AESCHHhhooo!”

“Bless you,” Shane croaked as he recovered from another bout of his own little “tish’hew! ishhuhh! hish’shue! ahh’shhiew!” sneezes. 

Despite his lethargy, Shane couldn’t help the jolt of excitement that went through him whenever Ilya sneezed. His sneezes were just so…loud. Powerful. Uncontrollable. Deep and vocal and rough and masculine. They never failed to make Shane’s toes curl, whether the two of them were on the ice or in the bedroom. Seeing his big broad boyfriend at the mercy of an itch…nostrils flaring and breath gasping and brows knitting and eyes closing…body frozen in place as he became consumed by the all-encompassing need to let out at least three huge sneezes in a row, every single time…fuck. Shane swallowed. If he didn’t feel like his body was stuck in mud, Shane would have pounced on Ilya twenty-five sneezes ago.

While he never wanted Ilya to feel unwell, he just couldn’t help but drool over the man when he was sick and sneezy like this. 

And Ilya knew this full well. Case in point, he was winking at Shane right fucking now as he rubbed at his nose with a tissue in a way that could only be described as sensually. He was moving it in slow, methodical motions as he stared directly into Shane’s eyes, even fluttering it a little to expose his red nose like a performer with a feather boa before a striptease. 

Oh god. Shane wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to survive their colds before he was incinerated by horniness.

——

A day later, the pair were both still sick and sneezing their heads off. Shane was frankly impressed with how Ilya’s other cold symptoms had seemingly disappeared into the ether, leaving only his nose to give him trouble.

Shane had woken that morning to the sound of Ilya sneezing loudly and harshly in the shower, the sound of the water and the closed bathroom door both doing a terrible job of hiding the volume and ferocity of the outbursts. Shane was too sleepy to do anything but smile and rub at himself a little, not entirely sure if he was awake or in the middle of a very pleasant dream. When Ilya came back to bed, looking pale and sleepy himself, Shane clung to him and yawned against his chest. “Good morning, obez'yánka,” Ilya said with a sniffle, covering them both with the blankets they’d taken from the couch for extra warmth.

Shane woke later in the day to find himself alone. Not feeling any more refreshed than before his nap, he got out of bed and went downstairs to get more water to take with his cold meds. He couldn’t believe how wiped out he was, and how chilled and shivery he felt. He found one of Ilya’s old Raiders sweatshirts in the hall closet and wore it into the kitchen, instantly feeling warmer, his fingertips peeking out from under the longer sleeves.

Ilya was chopping something on the counter next to the stove, where a huge pot was bubbling. Shane peeked around his large body to see what he was making, and saw onions, carrots, celery, broth, pre-shredded chicken. All of the ingredients Shane had bought to make Ilya soup before he’d caught the same cold and felt too tired to cook.

Ilya made a huge snorting sound and scrubbed mercilessly at his face. “Are you okay?” Shane said, concerned at the wetness he saw glimmering all over Ilya’s sleeve.

Ilya whirled around, and his eyes and nose were streaming. “Gospodi,” he said, the Russian word deeper in his congested voice. “You are so quiet, lyubimyy.”

“Sorry. Why are you crying?” Shane took the cuff of his own sweatshirt sleeve and ran it across Ilya’s cheeks and under his nose, not caring that it would feel damp afterward. As he came closer, however, he could smell the answer to his question. The onions were so pungent that it made him pull away with a little cough. “Jesus, those are strong.”

Ilya nodded, then rested his cheek against Shane’s palm and closed his eyes. He looked about ready to drop just standing there. “I could go without, but…it makes difference, I think.”

“Ilya, you’re so tired. Go back to sleep, don’t worry about cooking.”

“Need to make my boyfriend soup,” Ilya said softly, turning away to grab the knife and resume chopping the onions. “So he can feel better. Since I got him sick.”

“Ilya…” Shane’s eyes and throat were starting to feel very hot and tight, and he went to give him a big kiss when Ilya suddenly gave a great heaving gasp and stepped away from the food.

“hyihh…! hgy’ihh…! haaAAASHHHhh! gy’AAASHHhhoo! HAAAhhhooo!” His upper body spasmed in the direction of his shoulder in huge jerks, curls bouncing wildly as the punishing sneezes kept coming. “AAASHHhhhooo! GY’ISHHHhtt! GY’IHHSHHHhhhoo!”

“Oh my god, Ilya, put the knife down,” Shane said, ignoring how shrill his voice sounded.

Ilya dropped the knife and it clattered against the cutting board as he curled even further into himself. “AESZCHHHhuh! GY’IZSCCHH’hhhuh! HAADT’SZChhhuhh!”

“Bless you, oh my god.” Shane put one hand between Ilya’s shoulder blades and used the other to turn off the stove before guiding the both of them to the couch. He made Ilya, who was panting and snorting and snuffling and coughing, sit down while he hunted for a box of tissues. “Here,” he said when he found one, and the blow Ilya gave into a huge stack was so long and loud that the rest of Shane’s sentence about ordering in was completely drowned out. Oh, the poor thing, he was so miserable…and Shane was on fucking fire.

Ilya rubbed and rubbed and rubbed his nose against his palm. “Agh, zudyashchiy,” he grumbled. Itchy. (Shane may have secretly googled the translations of Russian words related to colds and sneezing and allergies to keep in his brain. For science.) He looked over at Shane, and whatever expression he saw on his boyfriend’s face made him grin like the Cheshire Cat.

“Shaneeee,” he whined, moving closer until they were nose-to-nose. “Why is this cold making me so snuhh-huhh-heezy…” And oh god, just hearing Ilya say that word while his tongue tripped over hitchy breaths was nearly enough to make Shane, already fully hard from watching Ilya’s fit, cum in his damn pajama pants. The next thing he knew he was straddling Ilya’s lap, and Ilya had his hands full from cupping and kneading at his ass. Ilya’s face was awestruck, his pupils huge against the blue of his irises.

“Tell me,” Shane said huskily, grinding his crotch over Ilya’s and making them both groan. “Tell me how it feels. Your…nose.” He hesitated over the word, but there was no judgment in Ilya’s eyes. Only love, and lust.

Ilya sniffled wetly, scrunching his red crooked nose right in Shane’s face. “So itchy…”

“Tell me in Russian. Please,” Shane damn near begged.

Ilya put his lips up to Shane’s ear, sniffled again, the sound stronger and wetter, and sighed, “Zudyashchiy, malysh.”

“Oh, fuck…” Shane gasped desperately. He made quick work of pulling down both of their sweatpants - of course Ilya’s were tight and grey, and of course his beautiful hard dick had already been showing through them - and taking them both in hand. He was consumed by thoughts of the last few days, of sharing colds and kisses and laying in bed together all day, all sniffly and sneezy at the same exact time…of Ilya’s adorable attempts at caretaking despite his cold-ridden nose having other ideas…it was so overwhelming, and so fucking good.

“Sh-Shane…” Shane looked up from where his head had been pressed downward against Ilya’s chest as he jerked them both off, and saw that Ilya’s nose was running past his Cupid’s bow. He wasn’t normally one for mess, but when it came to Ilya Rozanov…

…nothing was off the table.

“I deed, uh.” In the middle of his panting and stuffy voice and dripping nose, Ilya was turning bright red. Shane, feeling the warm sunshiney sensation of release already creeping up on him, moaned and grabbed a few tissues from the box next to them. He held them to Ilya’s nose, and the sound of his enormous honking blows made Shane’s orgasm hit him like a bolt of lightning. 

“Oh fuck, Ilya!” He cried out as he shuddered in Ilya’s arms and collapsed against him. Ilya was still stroking himself and panting faster and faster before coming as well, with a shout of Shane’s name. Shane stayed in the crook of Ilya’s neck for a while, sniffly and overheated from all the action, feeling Ilya’s hands caressing his back, not quite believing that this was his life. 

Eventually, he peeled himself off of his boyfriend and started to clean them both up with some tissues. As Shane blew his nose afterward, Ilya looked at him with a smug expression and said, “Wow. That did not take you long at all.”

Shane turned brick red. “Fuck you.” He tossed his balled-up tissue at him, which Ilya batted out of midair with a grin.

Ilya lay against the couch cushions, stretching his arms behind his head and crossing one ankle over the other, looking perfectly, infuriatingly relaxed. “I am just too irresistible like this, hm? It makes you always want to jump my bones?”

“More like crush your bones,” Shane muttered with an annoyed huff. 

“I am ignoring the mean words coming from your cute face,” Ilya said before he reached over to kiss Shane’s closed lips. He pulled away with a serious expression on his face and gently put his hands on Shane’s biceps. “Shane. I am very happy that I can sneeze for you, milyy. I love to make you feel good. It is what you deserve.”

Shane buried his head in his hands, his cheeks burning. “God, Ilya…What the fuck. How can you go from being an asshole to saying something so romantic in two fucking seconds.”

“I have many talents.” Ilya kissed Shane again, who was much more eager to reciprocate this time, then grabbed his phone. “Now let’s order some soup. It will help your headache and sore throat.”

“How did you—“

“Because I had same thing.”

——

Later, Shane shot up with a gasp in the middle of the night, his heart pounding, his pillow sweat-soaked. He panted heavily with a hand to his chest as the fuzzy remnants of a nightmare (fever??) clung to him. Then the tingling in his nose, which he’d felt even before he drifted off to sleep in Ilya’s arms, spiked and left him gasping for a different reason. 

He was faintly aware of Ilya stirring next to him. “Mm…Shane?”

Still dazed and sleepy, Shane raised his hands and stared into the distance, waiting to sneeze. His eyes were filling with tears, and he let out a few audible “hih-ihh-iHh” breaths as Ilya made a soft, sympathetic sound and put a hand to his back. The touch somehow triggered something in Shane’s nose and he fell forward into his cupped hands. 

“huhh-ischh! -ish! -iSHh! ihh-shooo! ihSHhoo! -shoo! ISHhuhh! hah…! hadt’schoo!”

“Bless you. Oh, bless you,” Ilya was murmuring as Shane was overtaken with rapid sneezes that scraped at his throat and made tears stream from his eyes. 

With a final “ihh-SCHIEW!” Shane lay back, coughing and sniffling and rubbing at his chest and wiping his eyes. “Thagk you,” he rasped when Ilya handed him a wad of tissues, blowing harshly. 

Ilya pet Shane’s dark hair. “Bless you, sweetheart. Your cute little nose is so red…this cold really is all in our noses, mm?”

Shane groaned loudly beneath the tissue and looked at Ilya pointedly through his wet eyes. “Fuck, dude, you can’t just…say things like that.”

“Like what? About how sneezy we are? I bet you would like me to start sneezing again, wouldn’t you? I always enjoy a good sneeze, Shane,” Ilya said in his ear, laughing when it made Shane shiver all over. “Stop,” Shane said, voice strained. “You’re taking advantage of a weak sick person.”

“‘Weak’ is never the right word to describe you,” Ilya replied. “‘Sick’? Yes. But ‘weak?’ No. You are strongest person I’ve ever met.” He cupped Shane’s cheek as Shane lingered in the sweetness of his words. “How are you feeling, dorogy?” Ilya, for his part, was looking and sounding a bit better, thankfully. 

“Awful,” Shane sighed. “Tired. Achy. Nose won’t stop running.” 

“Do you want a massage?”

“Maybe later. Jus’ wanna sleep now,” he mumbled as he lay back in Ilya’s welcoming arms. He brushed a kiss against Ilya's hand just as he felt a kiss simultaneously being pressed to his forehead. Ilya was saying something about a thermometer, about checking for fever, but Shane kept a firm grip over him so he couldn’t leave the bed. Whatever Shane had…they could deal with it tomorrow. Right now, Shane thought this was the perfect way to spend his time.

[heleniumx]

the snzfucker’s guide to the snziest plants

for when you need to put your OCs/favs in a Situation™ or if you're simply curious about the science behind why plants make us sneeze

please do not reblog to non-snz blogs // Minors DNI (18+ blog)

Hi! I'm Leni and I'm a plant ecologist and snzfucker (obviously). If you like to include accurate details in your snz fics but don't know where to start when it comes to all things hay fever and plant allergies (or if you're just curious for...reasons) then you've come to the right place! I've put together this mini guide to get you started. If you ever have any questions on any of the following, please feel free to reply to this post (or send me an ask if you prefer to be anonymous).

In this guide:

Mini crash course on plants, pollen + pollination

A selected list of the sneeziest plants, categorized by: 🌻 wildflowers + weeds 🌾 grasses 🌳 shrubs 🌲 trees 💐 cultivated flowers 💥 sternutatory plants 🏅special mentions

The Chhinkni Corner™ - how/why does it work? a deeper dive into plant snience (snz science...hehe)

Some fun plant + snz facts sprinkled throughout

Tools, references, and resources at the end

Feel free to skip directly to the parts that interest you. I won't be offended if you don't read it all!

Some important disclaimers before we get started:

In an attempt to keep this as accessible as possible I am simplifying some concepts and skipping over some entirely. Otherwise there's just too much to get into!

This is by no means a complete list of species rather a selected assortment

I am not an immunologist, allergist, or palynologist (pollen scientist). I’m coming at this through the lens of a plant ecologist and snzfcker

While I did create one of the figures/images in this chart, the others I have 'borrowed' from elsewhere on the internet - normally I would include proper credits/citations but, uh, I don't really think we want the authors to accidentally end up here.

Many plants, including some referenced in this document and the included resources can be extremely toxic, dangerous – or even deadly – if used, consumed, or prepared incorrectly. Do not be silly in your pursuit of snz.

Let's dive in! (don't worry, there won't be a pop quiz)

Mini Crash Course on Plants + Pollen

What's the deal with plants? Like, where do I start if I know...nothing? You can start right here!! Okay, so there are a lot (and I do mean a lot) of different ways we classify plants. but for the purposes of this post, I'm going to to break down a few of the key ones in a way that (hopefully) isn't too overwhelming.

The Linnaean Classification system: This is the standard method of classifying all living organisms, using taxonomic binomial nomenclature (a formal, 2-part naming system in Latinized forms).

🌱 FUN FACT: Common names of plants often vary from region to region, culture to culture, and era to era. You can learn a lot from a plant's common name, and often a lot more from its binomial nomenclature. For example, the plant known as Common Sneezewort (Achillea ptarmica) derives its binomial species name (ptarmica) from the Greek word ptairo ("sneeze") which means "causes sneezing!" -- Thus, the plant's full scientific name translates to "Yarrow that causes sneezing." Pretty on[in?]-the-nose if you ask me.

Do all plants produce pollen? Nope! Not all plants produce pollen. I've put together the following chart which helps break down how we further classify plants --specifically in the context of what plants produce pollen and how they are pollinated, which all leads us to understanding what makes them more/less allergenic and why...we'll get into shortly.

Why do plants produce pollen, and what exactly is pollination? It's how plants get it on, bay-bee! 🐝 Pollination is how the male parts of a plant transfer genetic material to the female parts of the plant, allowing plants to produce seed and fruit, and ensure the genetic diversity of its species is maintained. Let's talk about it!

Reproductive Categories: Both Angiosperms (flowering) and Gymnosperms (non-flowering) have male structures which produce pollen and female structures which develop seeds and fruit.

In Angiosperms, the part of a flower containing the male reproductive organs is called the stamen. At the tip of the stamen is the anther, which is where pollen is produced! The part of a flower containing the female reproductive organ is called the pistil, which contains the ovary. Once fertilized by pollen, this part develops into the mature fruit/seed.

Flowers (and cones) can be male, female, or bisexual -- and there are even more categories I'm not going to get into but...Nature is queer, y'all! And it's awesome.

Monoecious plants have both male and female unisexual flowers on the same plant, which means they are self-pollinating. Examples include: Birch, Oak, Spruce, and Pine trees; and vegetables like pumpkins, cucumbers, corn and tomatoes. Dioecious plants have unisexual male and female parts on separate plants, and need to be cross pollinated in order to produce seed. Examples include: Juniper, Poplar, Maple, and Willow trees; and vegetables like asparagus and spinach.

🌱 FUN FACT: On monoecious conifer trees, female cones grow on the upper branches of the tree, where they can be fertilized by the pollen of male cones blown upwards from the wind.

Okay, so exactly how are plants pollinated? Biotic Pollination (by animals - primarily insects, but also birds and small mammals). In exchange for pollination services, these plants provide animals with food (pollen is very high in protein and nutrients).

Abiotic Pollination (by natural phenomenons - like wind, rain, or water). These are strong, independent self-pollinating plants who don’t need no bugs.

What makes some plants more allergenic than others? It all has to do with how they're pollinated!

Insect-pollinated plants generally tend to be the least allergenic, as the pollen grains are generally larger and stickier, allowing them to easily stick to insect bodies. I mean, just look at these guys. They’re absolutely lost in the sauce:

Wind-pollinated plants, on the other hand, tend to be the most allergenic as their pollen grains are smaller and lighter. They also tend to produce a lot more of it in quantity, since their distribution method is a lot less targeted (they rely on the variable forces of wind and water vs relying on, say, a bee that is reliably going to fly from flower to flower).

Depending on the anatomical structure of a species’ flowers, it may be both animal and wind-pollinated. Privet, for example, is primarily insect-pollinated, but because it has anthers that protrude considerably from its flower (hubba hubba), its pollen can be distributed by the wind, as this article explains.

🌱 FUN FACT: Some bees have special structures known as pollen baskets (or corbiculae) to help them efficiently store and carry pollen!

How is allergy season defined? The peak flowering/pollen times for plants varies by region, even if the same plant species grows across a wide geographical range. This is influenced largely by climate, and may vary slightly year-by-year. Ragweed, for example is abundant throughout all of central-eastern continental US, but pollen levels may peak at different times, depending on what state you're in (the state of allergic misery perhaps). For example, someone who usually prepares accordingly for ragweed season to hit them in mid-September where they live might be in for a bit of a surprise if they travel to another part of the country in mid-late August...!

What is hay fever, exactly? Is it the same as seasonal allergies? Essentially, yes. Hay fever is actually bit of a misnomer, as it was originally believed that the scent of freshly-cut grass (later dried to be used as hay*) was triggering allergic symptoms. Grass pollen of course can be a major trigger for allergies, nowadays the term is used almost interchangeably with the more-accurately described allergic rhinitis. *Consider also, if you really want to put your character in a Situation, the fact that dried hay often contains not only pollen, but mold spores and dust/dried plant particles...

Why does pollen make people sneeze? In simple terms: pollen allergies are an immunological response to the proteins found in different types of pollen. This article, titled 'Allergies: The Radical Theroy of Sneezing' goes into much further detail. Also, um, hello?!!? That name???

🌱 FUN FACT: This paper is the first recorded medical description of 'hay fever.' In case you want to read it. For science, obviously.

A Selected List of the Sneeziest Plants

🌻 wildflowers + weeds

Asters, Daisies, Sunflowers (Members of the Asteraceae family) in general  Ragweed (members of the Ambrosia genus): specifically Common Ragweed (Ambrosia artemisiifolia) and Great Ragweed (Ambrosia trifida) Mugworts (members of the Artemisia genus) - particularly Common Mugwort (Artemisia vulgaris) Pigweed (members of the Amaranthus genus) Goosefoot (Chenopodium album)

💐 cultivated or cut flowers

Baby’s breath (Gypsophila paniculata) and its relatives in the same genus Chrysanthemums or 'Mums' (members of the Chrysanthemum genus) Asters, Daisies, Sunflowers (Members of the Asteraceae family), including: Dahlias (members of the Dahlia genus) Gerberas (members of the Gerbera genus) 

🌾 grasses

Timothy grasses (members of the Phleum genus) Sweet vernal grass (Anthoxanthum odoratum) Bermuda grass (Cynodon dactylon) Kentucky bluegrass (Poa pratensis) Ryegrass (members of the Lolium genus) Orchard grass (Dactylis glomerata) Bahia grass (Paspalum notatum)

🌳 shrubs/small trees

Common Sagebrush (Artemisia tridentata) Hazels (members of the Corylus genus) Juniper (members of the Juniperus genus) Cypress (members of the Cupressaceae family) Privet (members of the Ligustrum genus)

🌲 trees

Alder (members of the Alnus genus) Ash (members of the Fraxinus genus) Beech (members of the Fagus genus) Birch (members of the Betula genus) Cedar (members of the Cedrus genus) Elm (members of the Ulmus genus) Hickory (members of the Carya genus) Maple (members of the Acer genus) Mulberry (members of the Morus genus) Oak (members of the Quercus genus) Olive (members of the Olea genus) Sycamore (members of the Platanus genus) Poplar (members of the Populus genus)

🌱 FUN FACT: People who are allergic to the pollen of one plant species are more likely to also be allergic to species in the same plant family. For example, those who are Ash tree pollen may also be allergic to the pollen of Olives and Lilacs, as all three are members of the Oleaceae family.

🏅special mentions (plants that may or may not necessarily be allergenic but still deserve to be mentioned)

Highly fragrant plants (known to or most likely to trigger scent reactions) Lilies – particularly Asiatic hybrids such as Lilium orientalis (aka the Stargazer lily) Hyacinths (members of the Hyacinthus genus) Lilacs (members of the Syringa genus) Wisteria (members of the Wisteria genus) Lavender (members of the Lavandula genus) Jasmine (members of the Jasminum genus) Freesias (specifically the highly fragrant Antique White Freesia aka Freesia alba) Viburnums (Specifically the Burkwood Viburnum aka Viburnum × burkwoodii) Roses (members of the Rosa genus)* *There are certain types of hybrid Roses that have been bred specifically for traits like fragrance (eg. the variety known as “Mme Isaac Pereire”) but honestly...most of my knowledge pertains to wild rose species and I'm not researching this topic any further because people who grow cultivated/hybrid roses can be Extremely Serious about it and I’m genuinely a little scared of them. Small, fluffy seed heads (wind-distributed seeds that are very tiny and light and easy to breathe in...Do you see where i'm going with this? You see the vision?!) Dandelions (Taraxacum officinale): Willowherbs (members of the Epilobium genus) Cottongrasses (members of the Eriophorum genus) Asters (members of the Aster genus) Goldenrods (members of the Solidago genus) Pearly Everlasting (Anaphalis margaritacea) Hypoallergenic plants (these species tend to have thick/sticky pollen that does not become airborne, or needs to be intentionally disturbed by specialist polinators in order to disperse). A pollen allergy to any of the following plants would extremely unlikely, but an objectively hilarious affliction to give to a character. Orchids (members of the Orchidaceae family)Cactus (members of the Cactaceae family) Irises, Crocuses, and Freesias (members of the Iridaceae family) Columbines (members of the Aquilegia family)

🌱 FUN FACT: Many flowers have been cultivated (intentionally bred or hybridized to for specific traits) to produce less pollen. We call these varieties "cultivars." For allergy sufferers, hypoallergenic cultivars are great to grow in their garden (or to purchase at a florist). For pollinators who expend energy to search for a food source, it's not so great. It's even less great if these cultivars are native species which are subsequently planted or introduced into the wild, as it can compromise the genetic integrity of that species' wild populations, and negatively impact native pollinators.

💥 Sternutatory or Errhine plants Sternutatory (adjective): Also sternutative. causing or tending to cause sneezing Errhine (noun): a medicine to be snuffed up the nostrils to promote sneezing and increased discharges.

Important Disclaimer ⚠️ DO NOT TRY THESE AT HOME ( I cannot stress this enough). This is for information purposes only and should not be used as a how-to guide. Many plants, including some on this list and the resources at the end of this guide can be extremely toxic, dangerous – or even deadly – if used, consumed, or prepared incorrectly. Misidentification of plant species can also be deadly. Seriously, do not be silly in your pursuit of snz. Stick with chhinkni, folks.

Wait, so…plants can make you sneeze even without pollen? Heck yeah, friends! We've all heard about pepper as a snz trigger, of course...Well, Black Pepper is just the common name for the plant also known as Piper nigrum. Peppercorns are its dried fruit, and it's what we grind up to get black pepper seasoning! And chhinkni? It's all plant parts! We'll get into that later, too.

Indigenous peoples around the world have been using plants medicinally for millennia. Traditionally, sternutatory (yes, that is the fancy scientific word for ‘sneeze-inducing’) plants were used to treat or cure the common cold, headaches, or in some cases as a stimulant. Are you writing a fic with a character who is an herbalist, traditional medicine practitioner, healer, witch/wizard, etc? Perhaps they would be familiar with some of the following plants:

Sneezeweed (Helenium autumnale) - [crushed dried leaves and flower heads] Sneezewort (Achillea ptarmica)  - [dried powdered roots; possibly leaves?] Sneezewood (Ptaeroxylon obliquum) - [powder from wood, bark] Spreading Sneezeweed (Centipeda minima) - [squeezed flower heads] Kentucky coffeetree (Gymnocladus dioicus) - [dried crushed roots; dried crushed pods] Spanish chamomile (Anacyclus pyrethrum) - [powdered roots] Leopard’s Bane (Arnica montana) - [freshly crushed flowers; whole plant; dried/powdered] Scarlet Creeper (Ipomoea hederifolia) - [roots] Redberry (Deeringia amaranthoides) [powdered roots] Cypress vine (Quamoclit pennata) - [powdered roots] Ipecacuanha (Cephaelis ipecacuanh) - [dried roots and rhizomes] Southern Wax Myrtle (Myrica cerifera) - [powdered root bark] and its relatives Box Myrtle (Myrica Esculenta) and Swamp Bayberry (Myrica caroliniensis) Yopo (Anadenanthera peregrina) - [dried pulverized seeds] Mouse-ear hawkweed (Pilosella officinarum) - [leaves] Lemon balm (Melissa officinalis) - [powdered] Betony (Betonica officinalis) - [powdered herb/dried leaves] Rosemary (Rosmarinus officinalis) - [dried powdered leaves often added to snuff powders]Bee Balm aka Wild Bergamont (Monarda fistulosa) - [dried tops of the plants] Pasque Flower (Pulsatilla vulgaris) [dried roots] Horse Chestnut (Aesculus hippocastanum) - [powder of the dried nuts] Sage, Marjoram, and Tobacco [referenced here as a “gentle” sternutative]

🌱 FUN FACT: Mugwort is considered one of the most important herbs ("the mother of herbs") in traditional medicine (and witchcraft, allegedly). It is both a sternutatory plant and a highly-allergenic plant. It sure would be a shame if your herbalist/healer/witchy character had to both grow/harvest it and prepare/pulverize it...

Okay, but how and why exactly do these plants make us sneeze? Excellent question, so let's get into it! Come on over to...

The Chhinkni Corner

Ever wondered why Chhinkni works? Why it's so effective? What the ingredients are? Exactly how/why these ingredients make us sneeze? Let's dive into some plant + snz science (Snience)!

First, let's break down the ingredients of Chhinkni:

Skimmia laureola [leaf, powdered] Box Myrtle (Myrica Esculenta) [bark, powdered] Indian sandalwood (Santalum album) [wood, powdered] Camphor tree (Cinnamomum camphor) [extract] Peppermint (Mentha piperita) [extract] Southern Blue Gum (Eucalyptus globulus) [oil]

Well, we know from the list of (some of the known) sternutatory plants above that the root bark of Myrica species is sternutatory, so that makes sense! But what about the others on this list? Let's get back to that important question:

What about these specific plants/plant parts make us sneeze? It all has to do with Transient receptor potential channels (TRP channels). TRP channels are primarily located on the plasma membrane of our cells. They detect environmental stimuli and translate this exposure into sensations of chemesthesis (irritation, burning, cooling, tingling) pressure, taste, and smell. There are six main categories of specialized TRP channels, which play different roles throughout our body. Here's a chart that helps visualize each category:

Woah, this is getting a little overwhelming. What the heck does this have to do with snz? Or plants?! Everything, my friend! Everything! Many TRP channels are heavily expressed in the epithelial cells of nasal mucosa. Each TRP channel is activated by different things (with some overlaps) including different chemicals found in specific plant families. Let's look at some of these TRP channels (and what activates them) and things will start to make a lot more sense:

TRPV is activated by: --- Capsaicin (found in Chili Pepper), Piperine (found in Black Pepper), Carvacrol (found in Bee Balm), Camphor (primarily found the Camphor tree, but also found in plants like Rosemary), Menthol, Cannabis, Incense, Ginger, Menthol (mint). TRPA is activated by: --- Mustards (mustard, radish, horseradish, wasabi), Cinnamaldehyde (cinnamon), Tobacco, Cannabis, Wintergreen oil (aka what gives mint candies/gum its flavor), Shogaols (found in Ginger and Sichuan peppers) TRPM is activated by: --- Eucalyptol (oils from Eucalyptus plants), Menthol (mints),  --- Cold temperatures

Hmm...does anything on this list sound familiar in a snz context??!?!?!?!

Wait, is this why things like pepper, cold temperatures, mint, spices, and strong smells make people sneeze? It sure is! When certain TRP channels are activated, they send signals to your body that trigger protective reflexes (eg. sneezing and coughing) to get rid of the irritant. Everyone's cellular make-up is as unique as they are, and we all react and respond to external stimuli in different ways. Some people might only get a runny nose when exposed to cold temperatures, while for others it might trigger sneezing.

🌱 FUN FACT: There have been studies examining TRP channels in the nasal cavity and the role they might play in allergic rhinitis. There have also been studies on specific TRP receptors in the nasal mucosa comparing patients with and without allergenic rhinitis. There is even this study on the nasal effects of camphor, eucalyptus, and menthol!

Learning Tools and More Resources

See where plants grow on a map: Want to know where specific plants grow? Input the plant species (or the genus or family -- now that you know what that is!) into the search bar, and it will show you its global distribution range based on user-submitted data. You can also narrow results down to a specific area. Note: This data is compiled through user-submitted data and may be erroneous. For best results, filter search results using the “Research Grade Observation” option. While the results don’t provide insight on historical range, native vs. introduced species, it’s a great tool to get you started! Pollen Allergen Tool: An interactive chart that shows common allergenic proteins and which plants produce pollens containing them. Repeated Disclaimer ⚠️ The following resources are shared for information purposes only. Many plants, including some on these lists are extremely toxic, dangerous – or even deadly – if used, consumed, or prepared incorrectly. Sternutatory Plants: A list of sternutatory plant species compiled by the USDA Sternutatory Plants: A second list, compiled using various data sources. This paper published in 2021 on the use of sternutatory plants in herbal medicine, TRP activity. and this banger of a quote: "Sneezing had great significance and value throughout history; it exerted a strange fascination on humans" I protest the use of past-tense, but alas. Folks, this paper is Snience (Snz Science) in action. If the following excerpt is any indication:

The End!!

THANK YOU for reading if you got this far, and congrats on making it to the end of this post! I hoped you learned as much as you horned (if not more) and I hope this little guide can come in handy one way or another.

As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, if you ever have any questions on any of these topics, please feel free to reply to this post (or send me an ask if you prefer to be anonymous) and I'll do my best to answer! 💚🌿

xoxo, Leni 🌼

[lipsmind]

i feel like i/lya is the type to be sniffly/sneezy the day before he comes down with a cold but he’s oblivious. like he wakes up sick the next day and is like what?? there were no signs?? and s/hane is like, …you sneezed a minimum of twenty times yesterday.

versus s/hane one time sneezes a little more harshly and suddenly than usual, and five minutes later he’s compiled an array of supplements for himself, emergen-c, ginger, oranges, anything healthy he can think of. he tries to quarantine himself and stock piles tissues. And he’s always right, by nighttime he’s all miserable and stuffy, drippy and teary eyed.

[grayskies2525]

The last chapter of my fic was all about exploring Arlo's trauma related to his experiences with abuse. This current chapter, though? Pure porn 😂

[rozsnz]

sharing 🎮

hollanov share a cold & they kiss about it

requested by anon : 1.5k includes unintentional contagion, light nsfw

May 2018, Ottawa

The couple were supposed to be enjoying their offseason together; they had a structured schedule made by Shane outlining the activities & exercises they were to do every day.

They were currently a week into their break, and things were already starting to go off schedule.

It started on Tuesday, when Shane decided that he wanted a nice week at Ilya's instead of the cottage. Why not? Ilya had a nice place. Ilya had comforting hands.

Shane had arrived with a sore throat, but nothing would stop him from greeting Ilya with a kiss. He had a week to himself before he met with Ilya, an actual silent retreat this time.

By the time Friday came around, the couple were both nursing nasty colds.

"This sucks. So bad. Uuf," Ilya complained, an Xbox controller perched on his lap as he waited for his MLH game to update. Ilya was sitting shirtless with his pecs flushed pink, black sweatpants on his legs.

Ilya coughed, both hands coming up to cup around his nose. "Kihh'tsSSZZJSssh! Guh.."

Shane sniffled, rubbing his nose with the hand that wasn't holding his hockey book. "Bless you. Have you taken your medicine?"

"Yes. You remind me 500 million billion times, Shane," Ilya sighed, eyeing Shane from the corner of his eye. Shane looked so pretty in his glasses, his eyes too sore for contacts. "Have you taken yours?" Ilya snarked, in one of his annoying moods.

"Of course, you saw me take it," Shane cleared his throat, pressing a chesty cough into his shoulder as he continued reading.

Ilya sighed all too dramatically, his right hand leaving his controller to trail up Shane's sweatpant-clad thigh. Shane was so oblivious that it was almost impossible to attempt to piss him off.

Shane sent Ilya a look over his book, then returned to reading. "What're you doing?"

"Touching you," Ilya said, as if it were the most obvious thing ever. Ilya's hand turned to rub at Shane's calf, his thumb pushing into the tight muscles.

Shane's eyes didn't leave his book this time as he footed at Ilya with his socked feet. "I'm busy."

Ilya huffed, craning his neck back to rest against the couch. "You're no fun, Shane. Sddnfffx. You can read later."

Shane sniffled, pushing his glasses up the slope of his nose. "Mm, this part is interesting tho. Sidney Cr-"

"Yes, yes. Your husband, whom you talk about all the time. Who you love more than me," Ilya rocked his head side to side with each word, spluttering nonsense that he knew would get Shane started.

"I don't talk about him all of the time — he's just interesting. And nice. People say you remind them of Ovechkin."

Ilya shook his head with a grimace, putting his Xbox controller aside. "Nyet, I'm much better. Much. Come, stop reading about those people."

Shane smiled a little bit, placing his bookmark in place so he could put his book on the coffee table. "You only have one controller here."

"Come, not for Xbox. On my lap," Ilya patted his thighs, sniffling thickly. Shane complied, crawling over to perch himself on Ilya's lap.

Ilya hummed, holding Shane's hips steady. Ilya leaned forward to place some kisses on Shane's collarbones, licking at the dip in the middle. Shane shivered at the sensation, breathing a little scoff.

Ilya kissed up Shane's neck, all the way to Shane's jaw. Ilya rubbed his mouth back and forth to feel the stubble scratch against his lips.

Shane tilted his head down, ducking away from Ilya's lips as the Russian attempted to catch a stray kiss. "No, we're sick."

Ilya's brow furrowed, looking like a man on a mission. "Yes, we. It is same cold. Kiss me, Shane."

Shane grimaced, eyeing Ilya. "That's gross.. you'll get me worse. We could have different colds. Different strains."

Ilya scoffed, lip curling. "Ah yes, different colds. You were the one who infected me, Shane. Remember? You ate ice cream on Tuesday for your throat. Mr Macrobiotic Diet ate ice cream."

Shane shook his head, "I didn't — what? No. I wasn't sick, I randomly got sick when I came here. Which means it's from you," Shane poked a finger of accusation at Ilya's chest.

Ilya raised his brows. "Only Canadian could catch cold in May. Definitely wasn't me."

Shane hummed, blinking slowly. "Well — I didn't know," Shane mumbled, his eyes subconsciously turning into puppy dog eyes.

"It's okay," Ilya lapped at his lips, toying with the fat on Shane's waist. "Now, kiss. I can't reach you from down here. Stiff neck."

Shane sniffled, still doing some mental math. "Get a shirt on first, you'll get worse. And let me blow my nose."

"No and no. Hurry," Ilya whined against his will, holding Shane in place so he wouldn't be able to get away and fret over useless things. "Stop thinking."

Shane made a sound of disagreement in the back of his throat, but he kissed Ilya anyway. He really wanted to kiss Ilya.

Ilya's hands rested on Shane's waist as his lips worked against Shane's, feeling the other boy's warmth on his hands.

Ilya chased Shane's lips with a comfortable rhythm that came naturally to them as Shane sighed into Ilya's mouth.

Ilya had to break the kiss for a second to catch his breath, unable to breathe through his blocked nose. Shane had to do the same.

Ilya dipped back into the kiss, feeling the plush of Shane's ass under his hands as his arms had slipped down to Shane's backside mid-kiss. Shane subconsciously pushed back into Ilya's hands.

Shane's top half pressed more into Ilya, bringing their faces closer together. Their noses smushed against one another with each kiss, a dampness settling on both men's faces.

Ilya could feel the rims of Shane's nose flare with irritation against his own, making no effort to stop the kiss. It was filthy and Shane would complain later, but they were too far gone.

Shane placed a hand on Ilya's chest, breaking the kiss to angle his head slightly to the left. Before Ilya could complain or question, Shane erupted with a sneeze.

"In'gshhuh! Excuse me—" Ilya grabbed Shane to steer his head back into their kiss, catching his lips once more. Ilya didn't taste Shane's usual taste of natural mint this time, but an odd saltiness. Shane was so sick.

Shane melted back into the kiss, hips dancing a tired rhythm against Ilya's own. Shane had to break the kiss once more to lean back, yanking up his shirt to expose his chest and tummy for Ilya.

Ilya made a sound of pleasure, nodding his head as his fingers rested against Shane's ribs, thumb pads rubbing circles into Shane's nipples.

"Oh my god," Shane sighed, arching his back more so his chest could puff up. Maybe it was slightly under negotiated, but Shane had noticed from the start how Ilya always lit up at the sight of Shane's chest.

As if he were one of Ilya's girls. His favourite.

It happened so fast that Shane's brain couldn't keep up. The touches were so good, but they came to a halt. Shane couldn't stop the stuffy whine that slipped through his mouth, glancing down at Ilya.

Ilya's lips were parted, his chest raggedly bouncing up and down with hitches. At first, Shane thought he was already nearing an orgasm. But before Shane could make fun of Ilya, that's when—

"HhhiHHHDDYTZZjjshhw! K'hihtZZZJsHH!" Ilya sprayed Shane's tummy and chest through gritted teeth as his head ducked down with each sneeze, hands too occupied to cover.

Shane's body flinched at the sheer volume of the Russian's sneezes, "Oh, Ilya!" He whined, although his thighs involuntarily clamped around Ilya's hips. The coldness of the spray felt good on his nipples, his lower abdomen now soaked in Ilya's spray.

"Oh, Ilya.." Ilya mimicked in a high-pitched voice, raising his knees so Shane would fall forward.

Shane slipped forward back into place, placing a kiss on the tip of Ilya's nose. "Bless you," He mumbled, reigniting their kiss.

Ilya smiled against Shane's lips as he tried to ignore the persistent ache at the back of his brain. This cold was absolutely killing them both, but at least they were together in their misery.

Ilya wiped away Shane's runny nose with his, getting the snot from Shane's onto the bridge of his own nose as he went back to kissing him.

Shane hummed in tired appreciation, his lips trailing from Ilya's lips, down to the Russian's neck instead. Shane gave Ilya's swollen lymph nodes a final kiss before resting his head into the crook of Ilya's neck.

Ilya sat panting, catching his breath as he snaked his arms around Shane's waist. "Too sick to fuck?" Ilya mumbled, sounding slightly more sick than this morning.

Shane nodded into Ilya, sniffling against the man's neck. "Jus' want you to hold me."

"That's okay," Ilya sniffled, pressing his weeping nose into the shoulder of Shane's navy hoodie. Ilya knew they had T-minus 15 minutes before Shane would complain about feeling dirty, but that was alright.

They could always shower the germs off. It was going to be okay.

[wildindigo111]

someone who’s always well dressed suddenly switching to sweats bc…

[hollanovsnz]

Another shortie for @poetic-illness 💖 also had to do something with this :) <3

——

Shane crashes the day after his first All-Star Weekend as a Centaur.

What was supposed to be silly fun has left him miserably overstimulated.

Practicing with people he’s never played with before. The unseasonable winter heat of Los Angeles that chokes him every time he goes outside, followed by the freezing cold of the airplane that takes him and Ilya back to Ottawa. The press conferences, where everyone and everything is loud and flashy and exhausting. Where reporters have been warned by the NHL to keep questions about Shane and Ilya’s relationship to a minimum but clearly want to ask about it anyway. Ilya gives them all death glares, but really, it’s the league’s fault for having a joint presser with just the two of them.

They’ve just gotten back from the airport, and Shane’s daylong headache has only gotten worse. The ache behind his right orbital bone is unceasing, leaving him squinting even behind his sunglasses. He can’t even get himself to sleep on the car ride home, trying his best to just lean against the window in such a way that the bumps of the road won’t slam his fucking head around too much. Ilya is driving, quietly, and when he puts his hand over Shane’s, Shane pulls his own away, even that small touch being too much for his oversensitive skin. Ilya keeps to himself the rest of the ride, and Shane appreciates the silence. His brain needs it.

It’s all too much right now.

“Too much?” Ilya says as they walk through the front door and Shane kicks his shoes off haphazardly, rather than stacking them neatly on the rack.

Shane looks at him even though his eyes, and his temples, are fucking screaming at him. “Mm,” he says in agreement, sniffling, then goes to curl up in the corner of the couch, trying to meld with the cushions.

Ilya goes into the kitchen, then comes back with a glass of water and some pain pills. He hands them to Shane wordlessly, then turns to leave, when Shane snags his hand.

“Stay,” he says weakly.

“You are sure?”

“Mm,” he says again. He doesn’t want to risk nodding and making his head explode.

“Okay.” Ilya sits next to him and guides Shane’s head into his lap. Shane shivers and fists his hands around his sweatshirt sleeves. Why does he switch so quickly between feeling like touch will burn him and craving constant, crushing amounts of contact?

He feels all the pain pool in the right side of his head where it rests against Ilya’s thigh, but he doesn’t care so long as he can stay like this forever. Or, for now, at least.

Ilya runs a soothing hand over his shoulder, petting him slowly and gently. Shane’s head throbs with every heartbeat. He tries to clear his mind, to ignore everything but the feeling of his boyfriend’s big hand on him. An itch tickles his nose, and he hitches quietly into his covered hand.

“hih..ihHh! hip’schiew! hadt’choo!”

“Bud’ zdor—“

“hahIDTSCHhew! mnguhh,” Shane moans as the stronger sneeze sledgehammers a jolt of pain into his brain.

“Bud’ zdorov. Uh-oh. Sweetheart,” Ilya coos. “I know that sneeze.”

Shane is busy recovering from the feeling of stars exploding behind his eyes. “Huh?” He slurs out.

“You are getting sick,” Ilya says worriedly. “You only sneeze like that when you have a cold.”

Shane doesn’t know what to say other than, “Oh.” That last sneeze had hurt more than the others. And sure, the temperature change had made him a bit sniffly all day today. But a cold?…Hm. Well, maybe. Fuck.

Ilya resumes petting him for a bit, until Shane takes in a sharp breath that catches embarrassingly. “ah-ghHihh…!”

“Oh, Shane…”

“hadt’shuhh!”

Ilya tightens his hand on Shane’s shoulder. “Bless you. One more?”

“HISHhuhh! ah’ISHhoo!”

“Oh, two,” Ilya says with surprise. “Bud’ zdorov, lyubov moya.”

“I thigk I need to lie dowd,” Shane says stuffily.

Ilya presses a kiss to the top of his head - coincidentally, right where another flare of pain has taken root. “Of course. Let’s go.”

Shane whimpers at the jostling of his head as he lifts it from Ilya’s leg, then takes Ilya’s hand. He covers his eyes with his other hand as they walk, Ilya guiding him to the guest bedroom so he doesn’t have to walk upstairs.

In bed, he snuggles under the covers and is faintly aware of Ilya padding around the room, closing the curtains and turning the fan on, leaving a box of tissues next to him. He hands him the water and pills. “Just drink, and then you can sleep, yes?”

Shane takes a small sip, then guzzles down the rest of the glass, feeling the liquid cool something in his burning head. He puts the glass down and smushes his face into his pillow, sleepily rubbing a little at his nose. “Thagk you,” he mumbles out.

“Spi sladko, milyy,” he hears Ilya say softly. Right before dissolving into sleep, he feels the brush of a kiss being pressed to the shell of his ear.