Featuring a character that's mentioned like twice in the book and not at all in the movie, but I ship them. It's a little cold drabble, ~1.2k words.
Stratt informed Grace that he had five minutes to get to the conference room where Dr. Lokken would be waiting. She wanted input on the laboratory’s arrangement for tools a biologist might need to study astrophage, or any other aliens, in space.
Surely another scientist could provide her the same feedback, but their chief experts were often busy training or conducting research for the mission. Fortunately he had learned to stop dreading his meetings with Lokken.
Today, however, Grace was not looking forward to another meeting. His morning lessons with DuBois and Shapiro drained him more than usual. The moony eyes, flirting, and direct propositions wore his patience thin in record time. Somehow, those two always found a way to direct the conversation back to intercourse. When Grace had trailed off mid-sentence to sneeze, they didn’t say “Bless you.” No, DuBois turned to Shapiro and said, “You know what that reminds me of?”
Grace had interrupted that train of thought. He knew DuBois was talking about the long, gasping breaths he’d taken before that release. He ended up dismissing them from the lesson early. They either sensed his crankiness or were too horny to insist on staying. He was glad either way. He didn’t need his already-pounding head filled with images of them going at it.
He made it to the conference room with a minute to spare. He dimmed the lights before taking a seat at the open table. He let his eyelids shut as he waited.
The door swung open and Grace started, surprised that he’d almost fallen asleep in the–he checked his watch–three minutes it took Lokken to arrive.
“Sorry I’m late,” she blushed. “We were just trying to iron out the details before I discuss them with you.”
The tension between the two was becoming more and more palpable. Their interactions had gotten weird lately. It started as animosity, but that was fading into a healthy respect for the other’s scientific expertise, despite the disagreement. He actually started looking forward to their meetings, which he didn’t want to think about further.
“You’re fine,” he said. “I’m not too busy today.” Though that could always change at a moment’s notice with Stratt running the show.
Lokken sat beside him and pulled a file folder from her briefcase, laying the pages out on the table.
He rubbed his eyes as the text on the page swam around his vision. He knew she was speaking to him, but none of the words processed in his head.
“Dr. Grace?” Her eyebrows furrowed as she gazed at him.
He snapped his head up from the paper and met her eyes. “Sorry, could you repeat that?”
“I asked if you had any specific lab equipment in mind for the ship,” she repeated. “These are what the team is considering, with models and specifications included below. They’re state-of-the-art, but I need to know if we’re missing anything.”
“Yeah, um, let me see.” Grace pulled the papers towards himself to begin scanning the list. “Have you considered…” he pressed a finger against his nose, rubbing at it furiously. The minor prickling in the back of his nose was finally making itself known. He pushed away from the table, the fancy office chair rolling back, and he swiveled away from her before steepling his hands to his nose. “Heh… h-hehSHIEW!”
“Prosit,” she blessed him in Norwegian.
“HAH… hih’EHSCHHh!” Grace waited a moment and then let his hands drop to his lap. He could feel the tickle in the back of his nose still bothering him, but it was too faint right now to manifest. He wished he could stifle these, but he had tried earlier in the day and learned his lesson. Whatever was brewing in his nasal passages today would not go quietly.
“Excuse me,” he said, sniffling lightly.
“Are you feeling alright?” Her face was etched with concern and she rested a hand on his arm.
It took all his effort to not jump at the touch.
“Yeah, yeah,” he stammered, eager to redirect her attention literally anywhere else. He slid back to the table, and her hand dropped away. He shuffled through the papers. “I see you have a HPLC in this section, but I don’t think it’ll work too well in space.”
“Ah, yes,” Lokken turned her attention back to the sheet, skimming the notes. “This is a nice-to-have, but I think you are right about the gravity requirement. We will be sure to include instruments to perform the process manually.” She pulled a pen from the pocket of her lab coat and clicked it, scribbling down some notes in a scraggly handwriting that Grace couldn’t decipher.
Not that he was trying very hard. He snapped to the side again, barely raising the back of his hand to his face to shield the sneeze. “EH’schHIEEW!” The next sniffle was liquidy, but he pulled himself together and returned to the papers. Lokken didn’t say anything this time, thankfully.
As their discussion continued, Grace could feel his voice growing hoarser. Perhaps it was from talking too much, but he couldn’t ignore the very real possibility that he was getting sick.
The conversation was actually very productive, up until his nose decided to interrupt again. He pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the tickle, but it made no difference. When he couldn’t get his next sentence out due to the distraction, he had to switch gears. “Sorry, I h… have tohh–heh–s-sneeze…” God, that was embarrassing to say out loud.
Lokken kept her focus on the paper, as if to give him some semblance of privacy.
His elbow hovered in front of his nose as he turned away again, breath hitching. “Heh.. hh’EMP’CHHhh! h-EH!..oh.. hh-HEH-schhiew!” He panted into the crook of his elbow, grateful that he chose to wear a softer coat today. His eyes were watering now, but he knew that another was coming. “HEH’hdjSHHhh!”
Grace slumped back in his chair, dizzy in the aftermath. He pushed his glasses back up his face and cleared his throat before speaking again. “Sorry about that.” It came out rougher than he intended. He sat up again, not daring to look at her and instead keeping his head down and focused on the documents.
“Are you feeling okay, Dr. Grace?” She asked again, even though she knew the answer from the first time she asked and he brushed her off.
He could feel her eyes boring into him in assessment. He could also feel the flush in his cheeks reach his ears, probably turning them as red as his nose. There was no getting anything past the scientists on this ship. They were all too observant.
“Just a cold,” he said casually.
Lokken glanced at her watch. “I have another meeting with the Russians soon. How about we stop now, and you can give me the file back tomorrow with the rest of your notes?”
Grace suspected she was cutting the meeting short on purpose, but he wasn't about to argue. He didn’t know how much longer he could fight back the urge to sneeze. “Don’t want to piss off the Russians,” he smiled.
Lokken handed him the folder and gathered her things. Her expression remained stern, but her voice softened enough for him to notice. “Get some rest.”
He nodded, not backing down from her gaze. He played it cool even though every inch of him wanted to disappear. “I will, thanks.”
au where the hail mary crew is put in fancy scifi stasis instead of just regular comas. and because grace was such a last-minute addition, he wasn't fully quarantined before departure like the rest of the crew. obviously stratt was surreptitiously trying to limit his movements in order to limit exposure, but she couldn't explicitly confine him to the same quarantine wing as the others without raising eyebrows
sooo grace comes out of stasis, finds the rest of the crew dead, finds that he's in outer space with amnesia, freaks the fuck out, and 3-4 days later discovers that a rhinovirus was hanging out in stasis with him
when he meets rocky, he's maybe 5 days into his cold. very audibly symptomatic. rocky assumes the symptoms are normal human behavior but is naturally curious about it. asks about them, and grace tries to explain the concept of illness, which makes rocky panic. grace switches to explaining what the symptoms DO and how they're actually helping. rocky calms down
buuuut because their vocabulary is still so limited, things are lost in translation. so rocky actually gets more worried as grace stops showing symptoms. human sneeze fix grace body. grace not sneeze for 18 human hours. grace body not fix, question?? grace body bad, question????
and grace has to explain that no, sneeze fix grace. fix finished. grace body good, statement.
some time later, when their shared vocabulary is a lot bigger, grace sneezes for a completely different reason, and rocky is very worried. grace sick again????? and then grace explains the basic mechanics again, in more detail, clarifying that humans don't only sneeze because of illness, and there can be lots of reasons, and he's actually fine
then rocky goes ohhhhh. understand. inefficient mechanism. bad. gross. and grace is like well it's not like you have a better one and rocky starts to stand up very tall to correct him but cuts himself off with a weird little trill and lowers himself again. grace is very confused for a moment before he goes wait. DO you have a better one?
and rocky's like, very unconvincingly, noooo. and grace ignores that and goes wait. eridians sneeze???? and rocky goes, even more unconvincingly, NO!! eridian not have nose and eridian not wet and--
and grace cuts him off like 'no but you have vents. can irritants get in vents?' and rocky reluctantly is like '...yes' and grace goes 'so you have to expel them' and rocky even more reluctantly is like '....................yes' and grace goes 'so you sneeze!' and rocky's like 'NO!!! eridian not sneeze not have nose not wet not leaky not disgust! NOT like human sneeze!!'
and grace is like 'let me guess. eridian sneeze beautiful' and rocky makes a sound he's never heard before. then he says, 'eridian sneeze efficient! and. and. more beautiful than human sneeze, statement.'
so grace internally is like i mean he's probably right. human sneezes ARE gross. eridian sneezes probably don't have a snot factor, so... but he knows rocky's complaints about human leakiness are a running joke at this point, so instead he doubles down and goes 'oh really? prove it then. let me see.' and rocky makes the same weird new sound again but longer this time before he says, a bit haltingly, 'no no no! cannot do on command. also...private for eridian. culture thing!'
and because that's the 'drop it' trump card grace goes 'ohhh okay' and lets it go
much, much later, on erid, grace sneezes a bunch of times in 1 day (sick with alien germ, maybe?) and eventually apologizes. 'sorry, sorry, i know it's private and gross. if you two want to leave and come back when i'm less, uh-hh!...[sneeze] guh. leaky, i'll be okay by myself.' he's lying. audibly miserable. 'it doesn't feel serious.' true, though a miracle he isn't sure he fully trusts, considering he has no immunity. 'and the doctors are watching anyway.'
adrian and rocky are both silent for a long moment before rocky shuffles his limbs nervously and goes 'rocky adrian not leave grace. not want grace alone.'
grace starts to protest. 'no, no, it's totally okay, you guys don't have to put up with it. i wouldn't--hh--want to be around...hh--! [sneeze] [sniffle] ...myself either. i'm disgusting even to humans, right now. [laugh] [sniffle] our cultures have that in common.'
and rocky shuffles his limbs again, lowering his carapace, and goes '.....no. rocky lie to grace. sneezing not private to eridians. not culture thing. rocky thing.'
and he's visibly uncomfortable and unhappy so grace goes '...not gonna lie to you that--[sneeze]--doesn't make me feel better. even if only you find it gross i still don't want--'
and rocky's like. 'rocky not think sneeze more gross than other human reflex. this also lie. rocky embarrassed before, so rocky lie, avoid talk. apology.'
'...why embarrassed?'
'private for rocky. wanted secret. but lie make grace sad. so rocky tell. rocky have [new eridian word]. rocky think sneeze [second new eridian word].'
'uh, need word, bud. need 2...hh...h'ehh--! [sneeze]. guh. [sniffle]. sorry. what was the last one?'
more shuffling. 'word means...make eridian feel mating urge physical. pleasure.'
grace blinks. '...hot?' he shakes his head, anticipating rocky's objection. 'not about temperature. human colloquialism. um. attractive? sexually appealing? favored quality for...hh! huhh...! [sigh] [sniffle] for a mate? like, uh.' his mind flashes to tits but eridians don't have those, and he has no idea what else eridians might find sexually appealing. he's never thought to ask. finally his brain lands on all the bird documentaries rocky watched on the hail mary. 'like distinctive feathers on birds?'
rocky makes a considering noise. 'yes.' he repeats the word, and grace logs it as 'sexually appealing', to avoid ambiguity. he wants this to be the last sex-related misunderstanding they ever have. one is more than enough
'okay, so...first word. run that by me agehh...' a long pause. then a sigh. 'again?'
rocky repeats it. 'first word mean...thing make eridian feel mating urge. is common for eridian, but--' rocky stops talking abruptly.
before he can ask why rocky stopped, grace sneezes.
rocky resumes immediately. '--much variation. not all same.'
grace blinks. wonders if rocky could tell he was going to do that, somehow, without seeing his face. then shakes his head, refocuses. '...sexual preference?' he hazards. 'like...some humans find long hair attractive, but other humans find short hair attractive?'
rocky hesitates. 'no. is not preference quality. is preference thing. can have preference quality of thing. but word means thing itself make eridian feel mating urge.'
grace furrows his brow. '...example?'
'rocky have [word] for sneeze. other eridian maybe [new word] song, or sleeping--'
'or eating,' adrian chimes in. 'or claws.'
'much much much variation. some eridian no [word] at all. but--' again, rocky stops.
grace sneezes. sniffles. when rocky is still silent, grace motions for him to go on, 'sorry, contihh...h'ehh--!' [sneeze]
'but common,' rocky says.
rocky can definitely tell when he's about to sneeze. grace wonders how. wonders if it would be weird to ask. wonders if he should feel weird about it. does he feel weird about it...?
...mostly he feels like he's going to sneeze again. he does so. twice. then. 'guh. [sniffle] sorry, what were you saying? sorry. memory is worse when i'm sick.'
'common for eridian to have [word],' rocky repeats. 'much variation. examples sneeze, [new word] song, sleeping, eating, claws.'
claws... grace looks at rocky's claws a little blankly, first the ones on the limbs he's holding aloft, then the ones he's standing on. something clicks.
'oh!' grace says. like a foot fetish. 'humans have this too! well, some humans. i...actually don't know how common it is.' he's never really thought about it before. 'probably more than i would guess, though...it's usually private for humans. we talk about it with mates only.'
'private for eridians also. apology. rocky make grace uncomfortable?'
kind of. grace doesn't want to say that when rocky's so obviously worried, though, so he shrugs. 'nooo... what's a little sex talk between bros, right?'
'grace lie.'
'i'm not!'
'lie very obvious.'
'...okay, a little uncomfortable. but that's not--it isn't because of you. i just don't talk about sex much.'
'apology. human thing?'
he's tempted to say yes. but rocky already sounds a little confused, probably because they had watched enough shows on the mary that rocky has to know it can't be universally true. so he admits, 'no, mostly a grace thing. other humans talk about sex with friends sometimes. i just...never really wanted to. kind of wished people would stop talking about it so much,' he says apologetically.
'apology apology apology. rocky stop.'
'it's okay! i'm glad you told me, honestly. it's--' [sniffle] [sneeze] [sneeze] ...[sneeze] '--guh. [sniffle] oh my god. [sniffle] good that you don't think i'm extra gross right now.' he laughs, then has to sniffle again, and then pauses. conflicted. should he ask...? is it rude? is it like asking a gay man if he's attracted to you after he comes out to you? ...even if it's not, does he even want to know?
'grace quiet. grace lying, question?'
'no, no. just, uh...human word is fetish, i think. thing that is unrelated to reproduction but causes arousal. not a universal experience. but not uncommon.'
'yes.' rocky repeats the word.
grace logs it. sneezes. 'um. can i ask a question? you don't have to answer if you don't want.' a pause. 'well. not answering would be an answer, i guess. uh...never mind.'
'what grace want ask, question?'
'...do you also...uh.' his sinuses twinge again. he holds his breath. if he sneezes in the middle of asking this question he'll feel so awkward he'll die. 'if i'm not super disgusting to you right now, then. is human sneezing, uh...also...included?'
'oh.' rocky shuffles nervously. 'human sneeze strange strange strange. a little disgust,' he says apologetically. 'but only a little. like grace body. is not same. but not...all different?'
'huh.'
'rocky not want mate with grace!' he adds hurriedly. 'never never never. grace not want. rocky not want. but...' rocky scuttles closer to adrian. 'rocky also not want mate with random eridian. and rocky still think random eridian sneeze sexually appealing, sometimes. grace understand, question?'
grace nods. 'you think it's attractive, sometimes, but you don't want to act on that.'
'yes.' rocky uncrouches in obvious relief. 'grace uncomfortable, question?'
'nah.' he's had other people--even friends--find him attractive before. it's only ever made him uncomfortable when they've made comments or advances after he's said he's not interested. rocky would never do that. 'i could never be uncomfortable with any part of you.'
'good. happy happy happy.'
'happy happy happy.' grace sneezes four times in a row. he's a mess by the third, unsalvageable by the fourth. he groans as he cleans himself up. 'and gross gross gross.'
'sick sick sick,' rocky corrects, fretting now. 'grace need rest, not talk about rocky weird preference.'
'not weird. [sneeze] [sniffle] ...a little weird. but m'just glad it's not awful for you. i know i said you could leave, but i kind of...don't want to be alone,' he says in a small voice. 'the docs are great, but it's not the same. and i'm fine, i'm not dying, but i....' his voice surprises him by wavering. 'don't feel very good. it's making me a little clingy.'
grace expects rocky to try and cheer him up by making a joke about his leakiness, or about how he's always clingy and rocky knows this and doesn't mind, but instead rocky trills softly and says, 'rocky not leave grace alone. never never never.'
'adrian not leave grace alone either,' they say.
he starts crying. when he's sure he can speak without sobbing, he looks at adrian and asks, 'are you sure?'
'adrian not need fetish to accept grace biology,' they say, with a teasing note in their words.
rocky makes a sharp, indignant sound. it makes grace's head ache. 'rocky not accept only because--!!'
'i know, rock,' grace says. 'but can you--quieter? a little?'
'apology,' rocky says, very quietly.
's'okay. just getting a hh--' oh no. [sneeze]. his head throbs and he groans, pressing a hand to his temples. 'headache.'
'grace need sleep,' rocky said, stubbornness and worry in his tone in equal measure.
grace doesn't even bother to argue. too tired. 'yeah.'
whenever i make a phm post on here im in my mind like yes yes eridians walking autoclaves yes. but consider. i want grace to get sick with alien germ :( and i want rocky to unwittingly give it to him :((
rocky would be SO UPSET and would feel SO BAD. grace sick?? when rocky is completely fine??? and rocky cant fix????? rockys fault. rocky should have known. somehow. and prevented it. somehow. the fact that rocky did not means rocky should crawl under big big big rock and die. just like grace is going to. probably.
grace, from offscreen: i'm fine rocky, i swear. it doesn't feel any worse than the flu.
rocky, at top volume: FLU KILL HUMANS, STATEMENT. THINKING MACHINE SAY.
grace: rocky--
rocky: flu kill weakest humans. grace weak weak weak human. if eridian virus like flu, eridian virus kill grace. rocky give grace virus. rocky kill grace :(((
grace: no no no you didn't it's not your fault i'm fine PLUS ive had the flu like ten times and i've never died even once. i have a secret weapon
rocky: rocky know vaccine. not secret. and erid not have
grace: vaccine isnt the secret weapon. its secret. you wont find it on the laptop
rocky, suspiciously: .....what weapon
grace: very bad movie and very hot drink, with company. then sleep. and company for sleep. best cure. never fails.
rocky: grace joke. rocky worst worst worst, make grace sick sick sick and grace make joke.
grace: not joke!! very scientific. rest and fluids for physical recovery. movie and company for.. uh. human brain chemical balance
rocky: ... -_- grace stupid
grace: ... :c
rocky: ...grace choose bad movie while rocky bring hot drink
grace: doctor who tv movie. or... uhhhhh... maybe not that one . actually. uhhm. star trek. the one with the whales
rocky: whales BEST movie!!!! grace stupid when virus. rocky get drink. grace not start whales before rocky return, command.
Consider a R/yland G/race who is still halfway through a cold. One of the many perks of being a teacher.
When Eva and Carl whisk him away to the labs, Grace sits in the backseat of the black car, pressing a crumpled tissue to his nose to try and keep it under control.
He manages to get throughout the car ride, carefully spacing out sniffles the whole way.
As Eva walks and talks towards the lab, Graces slow cold riddled brain starts to put two and two together. The temporary lab set up.
The positive pressure suit he needs to climb into.
He ducks into a corner and blows at this nose one last time before going in, realizing with horror that his congestion still isn’t letting up
As Grace steps into the well supplied lab and begins to take stock of his surroundings, the window full of uniformed leaders facing directly at him, viewing him like a creature at the zoo.
And he realizes with horror, his nose is already beginning to tickle again.
—-
Bonus:
The conversation with S/tratt after the matter, where Grace chases after her and tries to convince her that he can be of use.
Looking at this bleary eyed sniffly scientist in front of her, she agrees in her unreadable way before proceeding back to the car, off to her next meeting.
As Grace and Carl return to the lab, he tosses Grace a box of tissues with a knowing look.
Just remembered the he/him lesbian shapeshifting sphinx character I made (with pollen allergies) and his enemies to lovers flower nymph girlfriend.. I need to get back on that 🤧
Poor girlfriend is sick with a cold, but at least I get to take care of her 🤭 bought her cold medicine and chicken soup, ran her a warm bath, and doused her in vaporub. My reward for being such a dutiful wife is listening to her sneeze 10 million times today ❤️
I feel the need to update this post bc I swear to god this woman can NOT be real. I have never in my life seen someone literally get a cold "in their nose," but that is probably the only way I can describe it. Just constant sneezing, to the point where she basically couldn't function. And when she wasn't actively sneezing, she described feeling on the verge of sneezing for long lengths of time, literally hitching over and over. It was so bad that at one point, she told me she had secretly induced while I was out of the room 😭 like ?? This can't be my reality...
Poor girlfriend is sick with a cold, but at least I get to take care of her 🤭 bought her cold medicine and chicken soup, ran her a warm bath, and doused her in vaporub. My reward for being such a dutiful wife is listening to her sneeze 10 million times today ❤️
First cold days of the season just hit where I live, and once again, I am contemplating my generic medieval fantasy ocs being sick and miserable and cozy in a way only that specific setting can properly convey ❤️
hey friends. I'm very sick (compromised immune system so im rly in the pits) and need some money for medicine and food :( I guess I caught whatever is going around right now and I'm still down on my luck real bad in terms of living situation
goal is $75
more would be nice though so i wouldn't have to turn around and immediately worry again
continuing w this attempt at raising $ because I'm about -$240 atm, still sick, running out of food and meds again. literally just having the worst week. as always please share and donate if you can.
If I'm offline for a bit, it's cause utilities are off. In the midst of a freeze warning. :,3 just wanted to give y'all a heads up before my phone dies lol
If worst comes to worst, we'll probably try to go stay with family nearby. Either way, we'll live. It'll just suck for a little while.
If anyone has anything to spare in the meantime, my PayPal's here: https://www.paypal.me/feverfangs if not, then no pressure.
Hello friends!!!! Our good friend Spider & his family are struggling atm & got their power shut off. They have a bill of about $600 USD not including a reconnection fee & loss of access to groceries & etc.
If you’re able & willing to give, his PayPal is linked here 💕
If you’re not able to give, a reblog is also super helpful 🥺💕 appreciate yall!!
I've never really been into myself when it comes to this fetish, like I don't get anything out of my own sneezes/being sick. BUT something interesting that has happened is that my gf, who was previously not into this at all, has sort of developed the fetish but for me exclusively? She talks often about how much she loves my nose and finds it attractive, begs me to not stifle, tells me she loves hearing me sneeze, gets excited when she gets to take care of me.. It's funny and also obviously incredibly hot LOL.
They set the emotional thermostat of the entire restaurant, always have, and right now they’re running warm. The whole kitchen hums with it: sharp, sizzling, focused.
“Chef?” Syd says, watching his trembling hand reach for the next steak. No response. “Yo, Carm— you’re about to sweat all over your wagyu.”
Chef Carmy is sick, and Sydney won’t let him ignore it.
sicktember prompts: 3. why are you so sweaty?
They are getting murdered by the dinner rush and the feng shui of the entire kitchen is off. There’s an energy simmering under the plates and the burners that no one can quite place but they can all taste.
Carmy is reserved tonight, quieter than normal, like the calm before the storm.
Syd is too.
They set the emotional thermostat of the entire restaurant, always have, and right now they’re running warm. The whole kitchen hums with it: sharp, sizzling, focused.
Marcus leans toward Tina, asks if they fought. But then they see Sydney knock a saucer into a cup of au jus and laugh at herself, tipping her head against Carmy’s shoulder as he mutters it’s fine, he’ll clean it up.
They’re fine. Apparently. The kitchen’s just hot tonight.
Five tickets left, the finish line finally in sight. The thought of freedom makes the work feel heavier, like the last mile of a marathon. Syd’s eyes sting in the heat.
Carmy’s plating a steak like a machine, every movement precise, deliberate. The garnish lands perfectly, but his face is tight with that constant scowl, like he can bully the plate into submission. He’s squinting against the lights now, cheeks flushed deep pink.
Something’s off.
“Chef?” Syd says, watching his trembling hand reach for the next steak. No response. “Yo, Carm— you’re about to sweat all over your wagyu.”
His head jerks up, blue eyes unfocused for a second, like he forgot where he was. Sweat slides down his temple, catching on his collar.
“Sorry, Chef, I’m— is it hot? It’s fucking— Jesus, why is it a million degrees in here?” His spoon clatters to the station. He fumbles with the buttons of his coat like he’s suffocating in it.
It’s not hotter than usual. If anything, it’s standard back-of-house.
Richie swings in to grab the plate, stops short. “Christ, Carm, why’re you so fucking sweaty?”
Sydney’s hand lands on his shoulder before Carmy can answer. “Hey. Go drink some water. Take five. I’ve got this.”
He narrows his eyes at her, suspicion warring with exhaustion. “You sure?”
“Go.”
A pause. Then his head dips. “Thanks.” And he slips off the line, disappearing toward the office.
He doesn’t come back.
By close, the place hums quieter, burners off, bodies heading out into the night, bidding one another a good night. Syd wipes her hands, heads for the office. Finds him there in the dark, lit only by the weak spill of light from the hall.
Carmy’s slumped in the chair, head in his hands, fingers tugging through his hair like he could pull out whatever is wrong with him.
She steps in slow, letting the floor creak so he knows she’s there.
He looks up. His eyes are raw, rimmed red, fever bright against his pale, sweat-slicked skin.
“You didn’t come back,” she says. “Figured you came in here and, I don’t know, kinda died.”
A breathy huff escapes him, almost a laugh, but not quite. “Nah. Just… once I sat down, I couldn’t exactly get back up.”
Syd crouches beside him, rests her hand on his knee. Heat radiates through the denim, rolling off him in waves.
He’s sick. And stubborn. And hers to deal with, whether he’ll admit it or not.
“How long have you been feeling sick?”
“I’m not—”
“Carmy?”
He flinches inward, caught. His lips part, his hands twist. “I woke up with a headache, but I didn’t feel bad until halfway through the night. Promise.”
Sydney levels him with a stare, trying to sift truth from deflection. Knowing Carmy, he could’ve been sick all week and said nothing, convinced he ought to work through it like penance for some imagined crime. He gives her a slow, sad blink, then rubs his fist in a circle against his chest. Sorry.
Sydney exhales, pushing to her feet. She ruffles his hair as she passes. “No, I believe you. But you haven’t eaten since prep this morning- and don’t tell me those two strawberries and a slice of cheese count.”
Carmy rubs the back of his neck, rising awkwardly. “That’s… sweet, but I really don’t feel like going anywhere.”
Sydney’s mouth quirks, half frown, half smirk. “Carmy, are you stupid? We’re in a restaurant. Sit tight. I’ll make you something.”
He trails her to the kitchen, settling at the corner of the prep counter while she makes her rounds. She gathers black beans, rice, tomatoes, onions, pork. By the time she returns, Carmy’s sipping from a plastic cup of ice water. Sydney nods in approval, sets the pot to boil, and begins dicing onions. Her hands move on instinct, eyes flicking to him now and again.
He coughs into his wrist, crunchy, unhidden now that the kitchen is quiet.
“How’d the fish and sauvignon blanc pairing go tonight?” he rasps.
“No way. I’m not talking work with you right now. That’ll just stress you out.”
He huffs a laugh, which breaks into another cough. He winces, drinks more water. “Can I ask what you’re making?”
“Also no.”
“What am I allowed to ask?”
Sydney stirs onions into tomato paste, thinking. “I’ve never seen you sick before. This happen a lot?”
“Nah. Not anymore.”
She adds broth, raises a brow. “What do you mean, ‘anymore’?”
Carmy smirks faintly. “Oh, so you’re allowed to ask questions, but not me?”
Sydney flicks a piece of diced onion at him, and Carmy dodges with a laugh.
“Yeah, I got… er, sick a lot as a kid,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I dunno. I always had something— which, uh, made my mom…y’know, angry most of the time. I don’t know why. She kinda… took it… uh, personally?”
Sydney arches a brow. Everything she hears about Donna is nightmarish. “How did you manage?”
“Michael and Sugar, mostly.” His mouth twists into something fragile, halfway between a smile and a grimace. “Sug would… she’d hold my head in her lap and uh, she’d hum. Michael… he’d cook me something, then pick a fight with Mom. I think it was so she’d get distracted and leave me alone but, um, I don’t know for sure. They were— ah, they were always fighting. She thought I was faking half the time. But they believed me. I don’t know. It was fucked up, but it was also kinda… nice.”
Sydney hums thoughtfully, and the kitchen settles into an easy, almost comfortable silence. The smell of garlic and spice fills the air as she stirs the pot, adding a bay leaf and letting the chili thicken into something hearty, grounding. Something for Carmy.
Half an hour later, she ladles a steaming portion into a bowl, grates cheese over the top, and slides it across to him with a spoon and napkin.
The moment the bowl reaches him, Carmy snatches up the napkin, folds it over his mouth and nose, and twists away in his chair.
“uh’YIZSSHHHh!”
“Bless you.”
He inclines his head in thanks, still buried in the ruined napkin, snuffling wetly. Sydney leans against the counter, watching quietly as he cleans himself up, then gathers his spoon. He tastes a cautious bite, humming in approval, eyes fluttering shut as he pulls the bowl closer and tucks into it.
“Careful,” she warns, a small smile tugging at her lips. “That’s hot.”
Carmy blows on the next spoonful and takes a bigger bite anyway.
Satisfied he’s eating, Sydney turns back to package the rest of the chili, tidying the stove as she goes. When she glances back, his curly head is ducked protectively over the bowl, shoulders hunched, like the food is a small comfort he doesn’t want to lose. Her chest warms. At least she knows it’s good. His wordless praise makes her stand a little taller.
“Just so you know,” she says quietly as she heads toward the dish pit, “I believe you. I-If you’re ever feeling bad, and need a break, I’ll believe you.”
Carmy pauses mid-bite, looking up at her. His blue eyes shimmer with fever, tired and glassy but sharp enough to catch her words.
She considers the van. Maybe she’ll drive him home so he doesn’t have to fight the train like this. He doesn’t have to do it all alone. He shouldn’t.
I saw a post from @sickficluvr about a h/owl’s m/oving c/astle fic and I simply could not resist…. I love that sneezy Welsh man so much.
this follows more closely with the actual book (I’ve never read anything other than the first book, but I know Howl and Sophie get married and Sophie ends up being a powerful witch, so enjoy a slice of their married life and Sophie using her witch powers to subconsciously make Howl sneeze!)
it’s quite short, and rushed, and I literally wrote it in 30 mins
Sophie was not entirely convinced that her husband, the remarkable wizard Howl Jenkins Pendragon, was in fact on death’s door, as he so ardently professed to her.
“Sophie,” he whined, like a petulant child, from where he lay prone in bed, “mby dearest… You dod’t understadd. I’b— I… fear I bay be hh-hh—ihh!! h’hyiiZzSCHhue!— Hhy’bzSCHCHhHue!! Guhh… sndffgk! Dy’igg… I bay odly have a few hours lehh… lefffhhyhh… leftTH’SHHHhzzIEW!— hh—aahh…! AhSCHHhyii—HIEW! Sndff—!”
Then, when she didn’t bless him and instead rolled her eyes, he added, “You’re by wife. You should be bore — SNfFF! Sybpathetig…”
Without a moment to spare, he buried his large, pink nose into a handkerchief, and blew it until he had no air left in him.
She could only sigh. He was the most pathetic wizard in the world, that was for sure.
“At this rate, you’ll sneeze yourself hoarse, Howl,” she chided, fixing one of his many decorative pillows to help him sit upright.
“If it awards mbe eved a droplet of compassion frob your icy heart, so be it,” Howl muttered. He settled back against the pillows with a congested cough.
Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if her husband lost his voice. Choosing to ignore him, Sophie felt his forehead and tsked her tongue at the warmth beneath her palm. “How did you even come down with such a bad cold?”
“I told you,” he said from behind a navy blue handkerchief that he magicked out of thin air. “Everytibe I go to Wales, I get a blasted cold.”
“And why did you go to Wales?” Sophie simply could not make sense of his faraway home. It was a strange place, with strange people and buildings and rules, and she did not like going there, not even when Howl once dragged her along for a “rugby” match. What a strange game that had been.
Howl sneezed again, three times in rapid succession, as if the very mention of Wales was enough to make him sneeze. The bedframe croaked under him. She could think of no one else who sneezed as much as him when he had a cold.
“H’igCHU! HhH’izSHhu!… hh’aah… hAHCHhu! Ugh. It was—“ he paused to blow his nose, then sunk down further beneath the blankets. “Saidt David’s day.”
“And who is Saint David?” That was a funny name. Sophie moved about the room and gathered the endless half-empty mugs of tea Howl had been drinking since last night. “Is he a friend of yours?”
“Heavens, no. It’s a ndational holiday id Wayyhh… WayyhelsSHZSSHiew!! Oh, hell.”
He cursed again in a different tongue, the language that Sophie was only just beginning to understand as Welsh, and coughed heartily.
Sophie hummed. “I see. You went to see your family, I suppose?” Then, feeling mischievous, and thinking how funny it was that he seemed to sneeze at all this talk of his hometown, she added, “In Wales?”
The effect was immediate— she may as well have blown a plume of pepper in his face. Howl’s long, angular nose twitched, and his perfectly plump lips screwed up to reveal white canines, and he forwent the magicked handkerchiefs all together and sneezed — loudly, wetly, and directly — into the quilt Sophie had laid over him.
“hh!HUH!… H’BbYZSCHhhhhYyIEWwhh!!!”
The sneeze scraped the very front of his throat, sounding awfully painful, and Sophie could not help but feel a little bit guilty. Perhaps him sneezing at the mention of Wales was her fault, a secret magic spell that she had unconsciously brought to life, simply by thinking it. That sort of thing seemed to be happening more and more lately.
Still, despite the fact that she felt slightly at fault, Howl saw the merriment dancing in her eyes and scowled at her with a fiery vehemence.
“I understand, ndow. Mby deteriment amuses you. Dod’t vex mbe so much, wife, or I wod’t spare you so much as a cursory glance whed you catch mby terrible cold. Maybe thed you will kdow how dreadful I feel!”
Then he pouted, appearing genuinely put out, and pulled the multi-patterned quilt dramatically over his head.
“Oh,” Sophie cooed, laughing despite herself. Perhaps she’d taunted him too far. She abandoned the mugs of tea and sat beside him on the bed.
“Howl, come out.” She patted his hip, but he did not reveal himself.
His only reply was a poorly stifled sneeze — “hIGKtt—guh…” (small, sad, pitiful) — like he was trying to hide the very fact that he was under there. His entire body jerked with effort beneath the blanket.
Sophie ran her fingers down his side. Even with the quilt covering his very ticklish skin, he jerked away from her touch like he always did when she tickled him, and growled at her.
“Quit,” he grumbled.
“Come out so I can take care of you properly.” Sophie tried to peel back the blanket, but he kept it firmly trapped in place, and moved further away from her.
He was going to be difficult, then. Fine. She stood from the bed, brushed off her skirt, and then walked in place, placing her weight more lightly towards the end, to really make it seem like she was receding down the hallway.
It worked like a charm. Howl mumbled something about only falling in love with difficult women, sneezed once, twice, three times, then four times more in earnest, and then emerged from the blanket with his raven hair askew. He gasped when he saw his wife still standing above him.
“Sophie!“
“You’re not so hard to fool, are you? Now come here, you ridiculous wizard, and let me look after you.“
Smiling, she leant down, kissed his forehead, and joined him in bed. He eagerly invited himself to lay his head upon her chest, locking their limbs together as though they were a natural puzzle. He had clearly been waiting for this sort of attention ever since he felt the beginnings of his cold (he believed his wife’s touch to be better than any medicine, after all).
Sophie began to pet his hair, Howl practically purring beneath her touch. He pressed his lips to her neck and said, “I cannot believe you used your magic to mbake mbe sdneeze. It’s a horrible waste of your powers.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.” He scrubbed his nose against her hemline. “I, for one, would ndever do such a thing. I love you too much.”
“How sweet,” she said, scratching her nails across his scalp. He sighed contentedly. “Almost as sweet as those cakes you brought back for me from—“
“Dod’t you dare.”
“— Wales.”
He sputtered, his beautiful nose twitching once again as he fought against the magic settling over him. But even a royal wizard (especially one with a cold as insufferable as his) was no match for her spells.
“Oh, you rotten… you intolerable… you… hh— you…hh-HDT!!!—… Woman…—!! hhIH!!-HUH! HIH’YIIZSSSH—HYIEWHHh!”
I bought my gf a perfume that she happens to be a tiny bit allergic to (unsurprising, really, she's allergic to a lot of things) and she diligently puts it on every day just to give me a little show.... couple goals.
