snz time

early 30s, she/they, minors DNI. someday i’ll get the nerve to record! until then i’m here to swoon over all the amazing creators in the community

[itchy-nostrils]

Stuffy sniffly flower sniffing 🤧🌸

[hollanovsnz]

Oh, Those Russians (H/eated R/ivalry, I/lya)

“Never in life have I had sneeze attack. Russians do not do this” - I/lya R/ozanov, probably

Pledging my support for the “I/lya is allergic to Canada” agenda. This is inspired by @duckyduckduckling’s wonderful post here. Cutie pie Boy Scout S/hane <333

(NOTE: Do I think I/lya 1000% would have shown allergy symptoms the moment he came to the cottage and been found out by S/hane immediately? Yes. But I had this scenario in my head and wrote it this way for some reason. 🤣😅) 2.7k words

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Something about Canada bothered I/lya R/ozanov’s nose.

He'd known this for ages. At the beginning of his NHL career, he hadn’t thought too much about the fact that playing there in the spring and early summer months made him a bit sneezier than usual. But by his mid-twenties, he’d realized that the country, particularly the Central provinces, made him sneeze a lot…and that his allergies were getting worse as he got older. As in, these days, he’d launch into a loud sneezing fit practically from the moment he stepped off the plane in Ontario or Quebec, much to the amusement of his teammates. This was something he absolutely did not want to admit to his boyfriend, S/hane H/ollander, who had grown up hiking and biking and swimming and kicking soccer balls around the great Ontarian outdoors.

I/lya knew that S/hane had been dying to take him around the land that surrounded his cottage, to show him the area that gave him the most comfort and peace. I/lya knew that this was S/hane opening his heart to him, giving him permission to enter his personal, private world, away from the ice and the interviews and the lucrative brand deals. He just wanted to show him S/hane, and there was no way in hell that I/lya was going to refuse him that. 

But…

“Are you ready to go?”

Ilya paused in rubbing at his nose with a knuckle to look down at his boyfriend. Shane was wearing a backpack, and he reached into it and held out a water bottle for Ilya to take. “I’ve got some more water and snacks in here if we need, but we can refill from the well too.”

Ilya smiled. Always so prepared.

“And it’s not a super long hike, I really just want to show you the view from over there” - Shane pointed to the woods to the right of the lake - “so I can make us lunch when we get back if you’re still hungry.”

“Can you show me how to tie a knot and get badge too?”

Shane rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Fuck you.”

“Sounds great.” Ilya opened the door and extended his arm. “After you.”

Shane bounded ahead of Ilya, turning back with a huge grin on his face, beckoning Ilya onward with a wave of one suntanned arm. Ilya followed, entranced by the sight of Shane Hollander, boyish and beautiful and happy, traipsing into the woods like he was going on an adventure. Ilya smiled and knuckled at his itchy nose again. It was going to be a good day.

——

It was a fucking terrible day.

The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and Ilya Rozanov was experiencing pure allergic misery. Not long after he and Shane started their hike, Ilya’s nose began buzzing with irritation and started to drip. Having not thought to bring tissues with him, Ilya now walked behind Shane and tried to keep his thick snuffles and short, stuffy blows into his dark shirt quiet. He also needed to keep discreetly wiping his eyes on his sleeves because the tears were making it difficult to see where he was walking. He was trying really fucking hard not to be noticeable - he didn’t want Shane to see (or hear) how terribly his beloved Lanaudière was wrecking his boyfriend. Somehow, Ilya hadn’t started sneezing yet, but based on past experiences of living in his own body he knew it was only a matter of time. 

Shane, meanwhile, was staring down at some stupid flower. It looked so innocent and delicate, and Ilya hated it more than anything in the world. “I think that’s some kind of milkweed? Or maybe a primrose?” Shane was musing. “I have a plant encyclopedia somewhere in the house…wait, let me text my dad and see if he knows what it is.” 

Frankly, Ilya didn’t care if it was made of gold, because just looking at the fucking thing was making his eyes water. As Shane kept walking, Ilya furiously ground a fist against one leaking eye, cursing every tree and shrub in a 10,000-kilometer radius. Fuck you, he communicated telepathically to a tree, scowling as its leaves fluttered gently in the slight breeze; fuck you, he directed towards a bush covered in tiny red buds, hoping that the curse would make it burst into flames; and fuck you too, he wanted to shout at a little white flower. He thought about stomping on it, but he wasn’t that much of an asshole. Probably.

This was ridiculous. Ilya had been outside before. Plenty of times. Why was it that when he went outside here, his body decided to turn traitor and become one big itch? For fuck’s sake, he had lived an entire childhood’s worth of sub-zero temperature winters in Moscow; he couldn’t handle a little bit of sunshine and some stupid plants?

He was too busy being grumpy and rubbing at his other eye to notice where he was walking and tripped over a rock, stumbling straight into a large bush. He put his hands out to brace his fall and felt a thousand tiny daggers stab into his palms. “Blyat’!” he yelled.

“Ilya!” Shane rushed over and helped Ilya out of the bush. “Are you okay?!” His eyes were full of concern as he looked at the shallow cuts on Ilya’s hands.

“…Fine.” His pride was far more wounded than his body.

“Are you bleeding? Shit. I don’t have any bandaids or anything, let me just…” Shane uncapped his water bottle and poured some water on the cuts. Sweet little Boy Scout…Ilya felt like kissing him silly against one of these trees he was definitely allergic to. Another itchy tear welled in his eye at the thought. “Aww, that must have really hurt. I’m sorry,” Shane said sympathetically, reaching up to wipe the tear away. 

“Is, uh…is okay,” Ilya mumbled. He scrunched his nose and allowed himself a short sniff to temporarily quell the bothersome tingling in his sinuses. 

“Do you want to go back?” Shane asked, looking anxious.

Ilya shook his head, forcing a weak smile and ignoring every urge in his body to say FUCK YES, BABY, RACE YOU HOME. “No, no. Let’s see view.”

Shane smiled and pressed a quick kiss to Ilya’s lips. “Okay. We’re almost there.”

Thank fucking God. The sooner they got to this spot, the sooner Ilya could nod his approval, eat a granola bar, then get the hell out of there and drench his eyes in shower water. And his throat in vodka.

——

Twenty minutes later - Ilya had absolutely been checking his watch on the regular - they were still not there. “This is further away than I remember,” Shane admitted sheepishly.

“Fucking perfect,” Ilya muttered under his breath. The tickle in his nose was growing at an alarming rate, and his brutal attempts at pinching, squeezing, and rubbing the fucking bastard thing into submission were starting to fail. Honestly, he had no idea how he’d lasted this long without losing control. Normally he couldn’t even open his eyes in the morning without sneezing a few times. He rubbed his palm upward against his nose, as if anything he did could stop the unceasing itch. 

Finally, after traversing a steep incline that made Ilya start sweating, which made his nose run even more, Shane stopped. “Made it!” 

“Finally,” Ilya grumbled with another vicious swipe of his nose to his sleeve. He reached where Shane was standing, and saw-

A gorgeous view of the lake and the cottage. And…a field of very pink, very polleny-looking flowers.

Shane broke out into a wide smile. “Oh wow, look at this! A bunch of—"

“HAAAAASHOOO!”

Shane’s head jerked around to see Ilya bent in half from the enormous sneeze, breath already hitching towards the inevitable volley to come…

“Ble—"

“AESHHhhuhhh! HARUSHHhhoo!” Ilya panted in great big gasps and braced his hands on his thighs, allowing the long-overdue sneezes to consume his body completely. “HAAADZCHooo! HRRISHHhuhhh!”

“Ble—"

“HRUSHH’uhhh! HhRUSHHhhoo! HAESHHhhh! AAEHDShhhuhh! HAASHHHhoo!”

“Bless you!” Shane exclaimed. Ilya quickly removed his shirt and brought it to his streaming nose, blowing loudly and fiercely, desperate for anything that could get the tickle to go away and give him some relief. Instead, he reared back with a huge intake of breath. “HMPFSCHHH! HMPFFSHOO!” he muffled into the soaked garment, the strength of the sneezes burning his throat. He blew again, mercilessly crushing his nose into the fabric to rub at it, then stood up straight, panting, as allergic tears rolled down his cheeks.

Shane, meanwhile, was hovering beside Ilya, looking panicked and shocked. “Jesus Christ, Ilya, bless you! Are you okay?”

Ilya turned towards the pretty pink flowers, and just looking in their direction made his eyes narrow and his breath begin to hitch anew. Shane saw what he was looking at and his eyes widened with realization. “Oh shit. Let’s get you out of here,” he said, guiding Ilya gently down the incline and pausing with him, holding him in place, when he gasped sharply and jerked forward into his balled-up shirt again. “AEHHHMFshhh!”

“Bless you, honey.” Even in the throes of an allergy attack, Ilya felt his heart skip a beat at the pet name. They reached the bottom of the hill and Ilya, exhausted and embarrassed and puffy-faced as all hell, unscrewed his water bottle and dumped the contents over his head. He shook like a dog, Shane sounding displeased about getting a sudden shower but staying by Ilya’s side regardless. Shane ran his hands up and down Ilya’s bare arms as he shivered from the cold water. “Ilya, are you all right?”

But Ilya’s breath was hitching again. “HRRUSHhhhuh! HAADTCHooo!” His dripping wet curls fell into his eyes and he raked a hand through his hair with a growl of frustration. Shane blessed him again, sounding concerned (and maybe even a little impressed). Ilya spotted a large rock and sat down on it, burying his face in his hands to hide his burning red face. “I, uh. snrf. I think I am okay,” he finally answered. When he took his hands away, Shane was kneeling next to him, rummaging through his backpack. 

“Shit. No tissues or towels or anything, I’m sorry.” He put a hand on Ilya’s knee. “That was intense. Why didn’t you tell me you’re allergic to pollen? I’m so sorry, I would never have taken you out here if I knew!”

Ilya put his hand over Shane’s. “Is not your fault. I wanted to come.”

“Did you take anything before we left?”

“Like what?”

Shane blinked at him. “Like…allergy medication?”

Ilya scoffed. “Why? I have never taken this before. Russians do not need these things.”

Shane cocked his head to the side, looking like a confused (and very cute) puppy. “Uh…because you have allergies?”

“They are not so bad,” Ilya said with a lackadaisical wave of his hand.

Shane stared, incredulous. “Not so bad?! You almost fell down the path just now! I thought you were gonna sneeze your head off!”

“That is not possible. I’m fine, Shane.”

Now Shane looked annoyed. “What the fuck, Ilya? You are not fine! Look at you…” he gestured at Ilya’s nose, hot and sore and likely a glowing red, and the stream of tears and snot he was back to wiping into his ruined shirt. “…you’re miserable! Has this ever happened to you before?”

Ilya paused for a moment. Then he decided to tell the truth. "Every time I come to this country I have sneezing attacks.”

Now Shane looked furious. He threw his hands up. “Then why the hell would you come out here if you knew it would make you feel like this?!”

“Because you! I want to be with you!” Ilya snapped. He was exasperated and cold and wet and tired and still itchy and he just wanted to go home. Shane gaped at him, and Ilya immediately felt terrible for raising his voice. It wasn’t his boyfriend’s fault that nature was on a mission to make him sneeze…and sneeze…and sneeze some more. “I like doing what makes you happy. And you like it out here, so…” he trailed off, averting his gaze. There was silence. Then, Ilya felt a cool hand cup his flushed cheek. When he looked up, Shane was staring down at him with such tenderness in his big brown eyes that he stopped breathing for a moment.

“Oh, Ilya,” Shane cooed. He petted his fingers over Ilya’s damp curls, and Ilya leaned into the gentle touch. “You came out here even though you didn’t want to just to spend time with me?” Ilya nodded. “I…that’s just…um. That’s really sweet.” Shane looked about ready to cry. Then his brows furrowed. “But oh my fucking god, don’t risk your health for me! I love it out here, but I love you being alive more, dumbass.” he pressed a gentle kiss to Ilya’s lips. They pulled apart and Ilya’s nose twitched. He ran a wrist under it and snuffled, a thin stream of wetness glimmering on his arm in the sunlight. Shane grimaced. “Ugh. You’re lucky you’re cute, Rozanov.”

Ilya hopped up from the rock. “I know.” He put his hands on Shane’s shoulders and kissed him again, neither man particularly caring that he was sniffling wetly. “You’re right,” Ilya admitted softly, leaning his forehead against Shane’s. “This was really stupid of me. I’m sorry.”

Shane squeezed his arms. “Don’t apologize. I just want you to take care of yourself. There’s plenty of other things we can do together…and not just in bed,” he said with a laugh at Ilya’s hungry look. “But we could always do more in bed, too. That’s fine by me.”

Ilya’s own laugh turned into a high-pitched gasp, and he quickly ducked back into his shirt. “HAASCHMph! AESHHMmmphh!”

“Bless you,” Shane said as Ilya blew hard once again and blinked his tired, teary eyes. “Sorry. I’ve got to get you back home. Time to get you feeling better.” Ilya moved to trek back down the path, but heard Shane say, “Wait.” He reached into his backpack and pulled out a bottle of sunscreen. He squeezed some into his palms and started rubbing it over Ilya’s bare chest, arms and back. “If you’re gonna keep using your shirt as a tissue…don’t want you to burn.”

It was so fucking sweet, so thoughtful, so thoroughly Shane that it made Ilya want to cut out his heart and hand it directly to him. Instead he just stared as Shane concentrated on his task, looking about as serious as when he was gearing up to take a slapshot on the ice. Like making sure Ilya was protected from the sun was his job.

“Okay.” Shane patted his hands against Ilya’s pecs once he was finished. “Let’s go back. I have allergy meds back at the cottage. I’ll get you a compress for your eyes, too. And I can make us some lunch.”

Ilya quirked an eyebrow. “Meds? You have allergies?”

Shane blushed a pretty pink beneath his freckles. “I mean, sometimes. In spring. And, uh, dust, too,” he admitted with a shrug, looking bashful. “Part of why I clean a lot.”

Ilya’s heart twinged with fondness. There was something so endearing about Canada’s golden boy Shane Hollander admitting that even he was not immune to some sniffles and sneezes when things started blooming. Speaking of, Ilya rubbed his nose furiously with his palm against another itch, and it squelched in protest of the violent motion. 

“Stop that! Are you trying to break your nose again?!” Shane gently tugged Ilya’s hand away. “God, you are a menace.”

“You love it.” Ilya winked at him.

“Unfortunately, I do.” Shane grabbed Ilya’s hand, even though he had just been smushing his nose into it. “C’mon, Rozy. Let’s go home.” They started the walk out of the woods, having to occasionally stop for Ilya to lean against a tree and sneeze in rapid bursts, Shane blessing him emphatically every time. As the lake came back into view, Ilya looked over at the man he knew he was going to marry one day.

“-snrf. Shane?”

“Yeah?”

“I am never going on another hike ever again.”

“Good idea. Promise I’ll never buy you flowers, either.”

"Spasibo. -snff."

[veersnz]

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I ran out of luck and caught a cold in the middle of summer T_T, time to induce a little and get all the gunk out djhfjd

contains: harsh then softer sneezes, a bit of talking, sniffling, coughing ( just a bit) and overall cold sounds~

hope you'll enjoy!

[snifflybabe]

wanting (hollanov)

prequel to greedy. ilya discovers shanes sneeze kink. lots of edging. some spellings. as usual please read bio if u stumbled here.

_

“Oh, bless you,” Ilya hums vaguely, eyes fixed on something in their fridge. 

“Thank you,” Shane can’t help if he blushes as he replies. Ilya doesn’t know what this is doing to him. And thank god he doesn’t. He hides a sniffle behind his hand.

Lucky for Shane, one of his best talents is masking everything that’s happening inside his head and setting on a polite face.

Unlucky for Shane, he has no ability to control the way his other head twitches when Ilya turns around, shuts the door like an afterthought, and says, “You have allergies?” 

“No, I don’t –” 

“You are sneezing so much.” He eyes Shane suspiciously. 

“Are you getting sick? Is this sabotage, Hollander? I am leaving for pre-season and you have this evil plan to infect me?” 

Holy shit. Ilya wants to fucking kill him. 

“No. Shut up.” Shane tries his hardest to remain casual. He sits at one of the stools at their kitchen island to hide the evidence from Ilya, who is still studying ingredients.

“Something’s bothering me, I guess.” Truer words have never been spoken. 

It’s not even the sneezing that is making him so hard. It’s the fact that he’s sneezing and Ilya is watching – even though he’s not really paying attention – and hearing everything. It’s that he’s present for every bit of Shane’s unraveling. 

It’s that Shane can’t control this unraveling as it happens. He’s trying, really fucking hard, to control it. He doesn’t want to sneeze. And that’s even worse because all the blood is rushing from his brain straight to his cock the longer he tries to tamper down the itchy feeling in his sinuses. 

He watches as Ilya fixes himself dinner. Shane had offered to make him something, when he’d arrived, but he had insisted on fending for himself. It’s off-season. I will find my own combination of foods I want to eat from Shane Hollander’s rabbit kitchen.

He scrubs at his nose. It’s still testing him. 

Ilya had arrived at their cottage and immediately swept Shane up in his arms. These arms included a bone-breaking hug and a forceful, hungry kiss. 

Shane had been all in, until he registered that Ilya was wearing something new on his skin. Whatever scent he had on had, unsuspectingly, made its way from his boyfriend’s pulse points and up into the recesses of his nasal cavity. And it had fucking burned. And itched. And… 

All this to explain why he’s been struggling ever since. A stifled fit into his boyfriend’s shoulder as they embraced had been the start. And now, three more itchy sneezes pinched between his forefinger and thumb — he understands why Ilya took notice. 

“Shane.” 

“Ilya.” 

Ilya sets down the spoon and leans against the counter, arms crossed. The evil-scented fabric of his shirt pulls across his muscular shoulders. Shane’s nose twitches traitorously as he tries to hold the gaze 

“Is it me?” Ilya asks. He doesn’t sound offended. He sounds more curious. A little careful, in the particular way he gets when he’s working something out.

Shane’s brain runs a very quick cost-benefit analysis. Cost: I have a weird kink. You’re going to chirp me about it forever. No, I can’t explain it. Benefits: My dick is so hard it hurts and I need you to touch me right now. Please. And maybe you’ll sneeze for me sometime. 

“It – hh – whatever you’re wearing,” he says. “I think I’m sensitive to it.”

Something shifts in Ilya’s face. He reaches his wrist to his nose and takes a deep, thoughtful sniff. 

“My cologne?”

“I think so.” Snf. 

“Hm. It is new. Test?” 

And Ilya is shoving his wrist under Shane’s nose before he can react. 

Shane’s mouth falls open with an involuntary moan because this just pushed a hidden button inside him. He claps a hand over it and shifts back in horror, but not before he gets a huge noseful of itchy musk. 

“Ehh’IkKh’SHhUu!!” He follows this up with three more desperate attempts at stifles. It’s so tickly, the scent, forcing its way into the back of his sinuses and activating some deep trigger. He’s been fighting it off, but to have it presented like that, so strongly. Like a hit of smelling salts.

Wetness leaks from his eyes and bursts between his tightly-clenched fingers at the tip of his nose. 

He needs to get out of here now. He will as soon as he can catch a breath. Ilya’s staring, he knows this for certain even with his own eyes screwed shut and free hand steepled over the lower half of his face. 

He gasps, head flicking up in an imitation of rage and giving his best glare to his boyfriend between irritated, watery eyes. He’s not where Shane had last seen him  – he’s standing beside Shane with a damp paper towel in his hand. 

“Sorry котик, I just rinsed my arms, okay?” He sounds genuinely regretful as he goes to wipe under Shane’s eyes, then all of a sudden stops with a jolt. His hand is half-raised to Shane’s face, but his gaze is down at — 

“Huh,” is all Ilya says, so quiet Shane almost misses it. He resumes wiping at Shane’s face. As if that isn’t ominous.

As the damp paper towel swipes under Shane’s nose, it triggers another sneeze. His immune system has been thrown into overdrive and is reacting on a hair trigger. 

“H’h’E’shz’ieWWw, hh!, hh, sor— eh’zS’CHEIWw!” And it’s right against Ilya’s large palm.

An itchy, desperate outburst of relief, freeing him from the violent building in his nose. It’s possibly the hottest thing he’s ever experienced. And also the most mortifying. He gasps out an apology between desperate, liquid sniffles, but he’s becoming even more distant and floaty. 

He’s so fucking needy. Ilya saw his visible arousal and ignored it. This never happens. So it’s a game for him, then. A game that Shane really wants to lose. 

He thinks Ilya is onto him and he’s being gentle about it. He wants him to call him out, to pin him up against the countertop and embrace his every filthy desire. 

“I…” his eyes are streaming, burning irritated red at the sides, and he wipes a wrist over the moisture, sniffling, “I…”

Suddenly, Ilya forces in. He flicks his tongue at his cupid's bow, collecting up wetness Shane hadn’t known was there. He moans involuntarily at the contact, words falling away. Ilya licks around his nostrils and sucks a wet kiss at his philtrum. He should, really, force him off. But he’s beyond high off the feeling, and Ilya is always his drug of choice. 

“You are sneezy from my cologne?” Ilya asks, as if his tongue hasn’t been making Shane crazy.

His whole body is on fire as he groans; and, finally, allows himself to palm at his own dick. Sparks tingle across his whole body with the contact. He might need aftercare just from this. 

“F-fuck. Yes. It’s – uh, shit. Touch me, please. I like it. When –” He can’t articulate it, but Ilya stops him with a primal, biting kiss to his lower lip. 

“You like to sneeze?” Ilya asks, voice lilting, yet sincere as he pulls away and runs a hand down Shane’s waist. His other hand thumbs at his cheek and moves towards the edge of his nostril. 

“No. I don’t think it’s –” he’s panting, floating in ecstasy; his eyes are still closed as he pulses with pure, unadulterated want. 

“I think maybe you do, no?” His boyfriend squeezes a hand over his dick and he moans with want. Moans. He feels the need for him rise up behind his eyes, splitting into bursts in his aching sinuses.

“It’s weird,” Shane complains with a careful sniffle, finding himself. He forces Ilya’s hand away from his leaking cock. “Fuck off.” 

“Is hot, too. If you like it? I will want to make you…” Ilya, the dirty bastard that he is, lets his voice trail off and licks his lips as he pauses for emphasis, “sneeze?”

“Fuck off.” He tingles, whole-bodied. Ilya is completely right, of course. Because there’s no way Shane would have ended up with anyone except someone who can read him completely. His brain is going static-y, like an unreachable channel.  

Ilya darts his tongue out to the tip of Shane’s nose and he gasps, shoving him off. 

He squeezes his nose between two tightly-held, flat palms as he stifles, once, twice, expression pinching as he shudders with the feeling. 

“I think you like that,” Ilya teases. He palms at Shane’s dick again and he shudders, moans, “but I will shower, okay?” 

If he insists, then Shane will wait. Even as he's so hard that he's seeing spots.

“Mmmm.” 

[peachsnz]

Hiiiii! Another awesome commission finished! I’ve been having technical issues with my iPad and I am still not quite over them… hopefully I won’t have to buy a new one yet. Thank you so much for the support!

This is @accidentalmistress ‘s OC Zayne! He was a joy to draw and I loveeeee his character and whole vibe! Thank you for commissioning me! 🫶🏼

MINORS DNI! DO NOT REBLOG TO NON KINK BLOGS!!

[thebigchoo]

God to be stuffed to the brim with cold, coming home to snuffle and sneeze my way through insisting that it's nothing I can't handle but as the night goes on, I'm filling tissues, paper towels, hand towels..really anything I can get to my nose fast enough.

Eventually, fourth hand towel to my face, I trudge into the bedroom and tentatively crawl into bed, bullying my way into your arms with a defeated but grumpy look.

Yeah, yeah..I might be a little sick.

[minteacutie]

Shane whose a bit under the weather and having trouble sleeping trying so hard to keep his sneezes quiet because he doesn't want to wake Ilya.

[baddecisi0ns]

😳

[mylittlesneezy]

Haiii!! New wav because I really felt like making one. Some stifles! I have to admit, this one really wore me out a few times, but here it is. Enjoy >v<🤭

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[blesser-in-disguise]

I'm intrigued by Sco/tt's usual daily sneeze count and him during allergy season if you could write that please🍓 love a doting Ki/p

21, Sun, Salud

hi anon, thank you for the request! I also love a doting k/ip, and a snzkink k/ip, so I wrote both :) very self-indulgent, I know. the sneeze count concept is from this fic, and the arithmomania is me projecting lol. this is set post coming out, pre wedding.

I hope you enjoy! ♡

fandom: h/eated r/ivalry

word count: 7.2k

cw: sneezing, snz kink

The sound that woke Kip had his heartbeat climbing and his eyes searching the room before he’d even processed what it was. There were clothes and various other items spread out across the floor, so clearly there had been other noises prior to that one, and he’d awoken purely because of the implications that the sound of tape ripping away from plastic had carried.

“Uh, good morning?” Scott was kneeling on the floor at the end of the bed, looking slightly stunned by the speed with which his boyfriend had awoken, frozen with a tissue tented over his nose like a deer caught in the headlights.

Kip flushed, lying back- he hadn’t even realised that he’d pushed himself up onto his elbows for a better look- and staring innocently at the ceiling, “Morning.”

The older man blew his nose, pointed and productive like he’d been waiting a while to be able to, and pushed himself up to stand with a small grunt of effort. He walked around the bed to look down at his fiancé, who was still doing his best to look like he hadn’t identified the sound of a travel pack of tissues being opened while completely unconscious and responded as if he’d heard his own name called out.

“Sleep well?”

Kip finally looked at him again, noticing that he was dressed in workout clothes, and looked like he’d already been down to the hotel gym, face lightly flushed from the exertion. He was still holding the balled up tissue in one hand- which was perfectly normal and totally not doing unspeakable things to Kip’s train of thought right now- and breathing mostly through his mouth, occasionally interrupting himself to sniffle softly.

“Yeah, you?”

Scott nodded, “Mostly. Thought I’d get a quick run in before I have to leave for practice. Sorry I woke you.” They both knew he hadn’t woken him by coming back in, but it was nice of him to pretend so Kip could save face.

“It’s okay, I wanted to see you before you left anyway. How long until you have to go?”

He knuckled at his nose with the hand that held the tissue, glancing at his watch on his other wrist. “About five minutes.”

“But you’re coming back here afterwards?”

“Straight away.” The taller man started to walk back towards his bag laying open on the floor, pulling out a pair of trousers and tugging down his shorts to change. “I’m not going to be out there for a second longer than I have to.”

Kip went back to staring at the ceiling, knowing that those sculpted abs were the last thing he needed to be staring at right now, thoughts already wandering towards pulling his fiancé back into bed.

Scott took his silence for offense, amending his statement, “And of course I need to get back to my ridiculously handsome fiancé…”

The younger man laughed, running his hand through his hair as he listened to the ambient noise of clothes being tugged on and off and out of bags, letting his mind wander to breakfast, possibly brunch with the WAGs, considering the various pleasures of being on the road with the man he loved until he heard the zip of Scott’s duffel close, indicating that he was ready to leave.

Sitting up again, fully this time, he voiced the sentimental musings. “It’s really nice to get to be here this time, watch you and celebrate with you in person, rather than over the phone.”

Scott laughed, “Yea-” He cut himself off, squinting into the distance for a moment before his breath caught abruptly and he raised his free hand to his face in a fist, “heHTSHh! hEHTSHh! tTSHh!”

“Bless you.” Kip watched him drop his shoulders and raise his head back up.

“Ugh, thanks.” The older man sniffled. “Now you get to see and hear all of this-” He gestured exasperatedly at his face, “-in horrifyingly disgusting 3D glory.”

“I don’t think it’s disgusting.” His fiancé contested, coyly.

This sparked some of the most intensely suggestive eye contact Kip had ever been on the receiving end of, and he was mostly sure that he didn’t even breathe in the few seconds before Scott replied, voice low and husky, “I know you don’t.”

He leaned down and kissed the shorter man, still half under the bedcovers, though he scrambled to simultaneously free his legs, bringing them up under him so he could kneel up to close the distance Scott was having to bridge. The latter smiled into his mouth at the adjustment, but then pulled back after a moment wearing that expression again, shaking his head in irritation as he tilted his head back towards the ceiling, drawing in a wavering breath. Kip reached into the net pocket on the side of the bag on his fiancé’s shoulder and pulled out the pack of tissues, deftly removing one and holding it out to him.

Scott glimpsed him out of the corner of his eye, and accepted the offering, bringing it to his face without unfolding it and pressing it over his mouth and nose as he jerked in on himself, apparently trying not to knock the bag off of his shoulder with the motion, “hEHMPHh! hMPHSHhoo!”

Kip smiled, still delighted that he didn’t have to hide his attraction or at the very least endearment in moments like these anymore, watching his fiancé try to redirect how the forceful reflex puppeteered his body with limited success, “Bless you.” It was almost comical, the way the otherwise extremely strong, determined, put-together player completely lost all ability to function in the face of a teeny tiny tickle in his nose. And maybe to some people it would have been. But to him, it was an arrestingly vulnerable display of humanity, and to Scott it appeared to just be an inconvenience that he largely ignored.

To his surprise, though, when the older man straightened, he was smiling too, “Thanks. I’m at twenty-one!”

“Twenty one… sneezes?” He still had to hesitate before that word, though. Some things would just never feel natural.

“Yep.” Scott leaned down and kissed him again, on the head this time, and then started back in the direction of the door, swiping at his nose with the tissue, “That’s good luck. I’ve gotta go before there are any more. See you later!”

“See you! Love you!”

The captain stopped for a second, holding the door open, though he was already out in the corridor, to look back at him. “Love you too.” Then he let the door swing shut, and Kip was alone.

He laughed, surprised by the whirlwind exit, and amused by the superstition. If something could be counted or numbered, and was likely to reach 21, some part of Scott’s brain would be keeping track of it. From the date to hotel room numbers to car numberplates, to, apparently, sneezes. Normally he wouldn’t get close to double digits, but in Raleigh, right at the end of the regular season? 21 before he even left for morning skate was nothing.

It was Kip’s first time seeing it in person though, and the emotions were surprisingly bittersweet. He was excited and turned-on by the possibilities for after the game, but still concerned about the game itself, and how Scott would fare for the better part of the day without strong meds. Watching the typical post-exposure, pre-meds paroxysm over Facetime- or more accurately, watching the hotel room ceiling fan spin while listening to Scott wrestling with the allergy attack, which usually took both hands and all of his concentration- was absolutely nothing like watching it build from the first moments of exposure in the morning to the breakdown late at night. He had great confidence in his fiancé’s ability to play through the issue, but he couldn’t help but pity him for having to. Even if it was the sexiest thing imaginable, and totally something he’d daydreamed about any time he’d caught a hockey game prior to catching one of the actual players. Which it was.

…

“This is the worst.” Scott groaned, leaning shirtless against the wall of the bathroom, looking like he was anything but at his worst. Practice had given him that post-exertion glow, and his muscles looked extra defined after the workout. Even the pink tinge to his nose seemed to be more of a blush than rawness or irritation, though he couldn’t underestimate the frustration and discomfort of the constant itchiness he knew the older man was enduring. It was pretty undeniable that he looked hot while he was suffering, though, more in spite of it than because of it, even from Kip’s point of view.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Kip responded, hand in the spray of the shower, checking the temperature. His fiancé had been returned to him a congested, crotchety mess, so he hadn’t hesitated to suggest a steam shower to try and clean him up and clear him out before they relaxed. Reportedly he’d held at 21 sneezes until setting foot in the arena- which was the important thing apparently- but that was as far as his luck had taken him.

The older man cleared his throat a few times with audibly limited success, and Kip was just turning around to face him to let him know that the shower was ready, when his breath scissored abruptly.

“hEhH…” His eyes fluttered back open and their gazes met, Scott’s face flickering into something sweet and loving for a moment in response to the younger man’s attentive expression before his eyes went distant again, “huEHh…”

Kip watched him try to hold on to the sensation, chasing the relief of release, but as the tension in his facial muscles shifted from involuntary to an intentional mimicry of the automatic expression, in a way that the younger man could definitely detect but probably not describe, the tickle seemed to wane.

“Did you lose it?” He asked, sympathetically.

Scott nodded, raising a hand to rub at his nose, and at the last second taking that gasping breath in again and clenching the hand into a fist in front of his lower face instead, “hyEHhoo!” He dropped his hand again, frowning in dissatisfaction. “I have no idea what the fuck that was.”

“Bless-” Kip started.

“Don’t.” His fiancé waved him off. “I don’t deserve it yet.”

The younger man raised his eyebrows, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Scott started to step out of his boxers, sniffling as he closed the distance between them. “Just that if you’re going to be stuck saying that all day, I’d rather not give you the extra work.”

“It’s not work, and I’m not stuck.” He stripped down too, following the taller man into the shower, “I say it because I love you, and I care.”

“Yeah, and because you think it’s hot.” Well…yeah, but more for the sentimental reasons.

Kip shook his head, laughing as he averted his eyes. His reaction made Scott laugh too, for all of two seconds before he was breaking off to cough roughly into his fist, the steam filling his irritated lungs. His fiancé sobered immediately, taking his waist and rubbing his thumbs soothingly up and down the older man’s sides, feeling his ribs contracting forcefully, and his torso quaking with the effort.

The fit lasted only a few seconds, but it sucked most of the fun out of the small room, and when he broke the quiet, Kip spoke softly, barely discernible over the rushing water, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” Scott matched his tone, voice raspy, eyes reverently traversing the younger man’s face, “Everything’s just so fucking itchy.”

“I bet.” He reached out for one of the washcloths on the towel rack just outside the shower. “You’re probably still covered in pollen. Let me help.”

His fiancé didn’t reply aloud, just closing his eyes and nodding, submitting to his care so he could preserve every ounce of energy for later. His hands drifted to the shorter man’s waist, anchoring them together.

Kip wetted the cloth in the spray, and then cupped Scott’s face with one hand, while he swiped slow, steady lines across it, working from bottom to top, outside-in, re-wetting the cloth every so often. He started along his jawline, then moved to his cheeks, his temples, his forehead, and then the area just below his eyes, and softly across his eyelids themselves, before venturing towards his nose.

The sides seemed like a less sensitive place to begin, so the younger man ran first up one side, over the bridge and down the other. Then he tackled the area just below his nose, carefully wetting and cleaning Scott’s moustache, pausing as his lip curled a little at the pressure, and then continuing. Then he hesitated. There was no way that this bit was going to go smoothly, right?

“I’m going to do the end of your nose now.” He warned, the words clunky and awkward in his dry mouth, flush rising on his cheeks as if he’d suddenly made the caring act perverted.

“Mmhm.” Scott only hummed in response, and then coughed, mouth still shut, as the vibration irritated his face.

“Okay.” Kip muttered, hesitantly moving in. He tried a firm touch, not wanting to contribute to the tickle, squishing his fiancé’s nostril with the cloth until it was amusingly almost closed, and then dragging across it. Nothing seemed to have happened there, so he moved across and tried the same thing on the other one. Again, there was no catastrophic response. He couldn’t fully tell if he was relieved or disappointed about that.

Confident that he’d managed not to make the older man feel worse with the sweet gesture, and had given him a few precious moments to relax while Kip took care of things for a bit, he smiled, shifting his grip on the cloth and then swiping it upwards along Scott’s septum. He’d used a little less force for that, because he knew the captain had broken his nose before, and didn’t want to cause him any pain by pressing too hard. This, however, turned out to be a mistake.

At first, he just sniffled, nose wrinkling up, and face twisting in response to the touch. Kip opened his mouth to apologise, but Scott, nostrils suddenly flaring, and eyes shooting open, beat him to break the stillness between them.

“hEIHSHh!” He turned his face towards the side that didn’t have his fiancé’s hand cradling it, spraying the glass, although the evidence was immediately washed away.

Clearly not done, Scott acted first again, pulling the shorter man into his chest, one hand pressing into his back to keep him close, the other coming up to loosely cup his nose and mouth.

“hHTSHoo! TSHhuh! heh…hH… TSCHh!”

Kip stared at the tiled wall, wide eyed. His arms had somehow ended up over his fiancé’s shoulders, so he’d awkwardly clasped them behind his neck, and now he was trying not to get so distracted by the naked torso shuddering against him that he would lose his balance and pull them both to the floor. Clearly Scott had thought this would be the most stable position to ride out the fit in, but maybe he hadn’t accounted for the shorter man being bowled over by lust. Because it was starting to feel like he might be.

“heHTDSh! TSHh! Ohmygod.”

As Scott let go of his back, his fiancé pulled away gingerly, looking up at the desperately sniffly man in front of him, who looked just seconds away from dissolving into another fit, and forcing himself not to lean back in for a kiss. “Bless you. I’m sorry, that was my fault.”

He shook his head emphatically in response. “N-hh-no I-ah-”

Kip pressed the washcloth into his hand, judging that he probably wouldn’t survive another bout pressed against him- not standing anyway- “Here.”

The taller man nodded his acknowledgement, turning away, towards the wall, shoulders hunching, and steepling his hands with the cloth over his nose. Please don’t accidentally waterboard yourself.

“hMPHh! hMPHh! hMPHShOo!” The sound was muffled, but still forceful, and Kip thought that he could probably still feel the force exploding into his hands through the barrier. He wasn’t sure if there was anything on the earth that could fully contain those expulsions when he really got going, and it was only worse when he was sick, so really they should both be grateful that this was just allergies.

“hrRSHHuh!”

“Bless you, bless you, bless you.” Kip took him by the shoulders, gently turning him back around to face him.

Scott didn’t look him in the eyes, ducking down further to blow aggressively into the cloth before he straightened fully again, and even then his posture sagged slightly, like he barely had the energy to stay upright. “Thangk you.”

“Okay, we’re going to finish up in here quickly, and then how about we lie down for a bit?” His heart ached with pity, and he tried not to let himself think about all the times that the older man had had to ride this out alone- and still indulged him over Facetime after the game…-his stomach twisted with guilt.

“That sounds good. ‘m fucking exhausted. Need to sleep a bit.”

Kip cupped his face again, leaning in slightly and waiting for him to close the distance. He did, kissing him gently between soft little pants for breath, and then the younger man pulled away. “You can sleep for as long as you want. I’ll wake you in time for us to leave.” If you’re feeling good enough to leave, that is. Because right now he looked like he should be anywhere but out on the ice, well, not anywhere, not like in the middle of a field full of cats and flowers and long grass, but definitely better in the hotel room than at the rink. Kip trusted him to know his limits, but he didn’t necessarily trust him to stick within them.

…

Scott unbuckled his seatbelt before Kip was even all the way into the parking spot, opening the glove compartment and pulling out a travel pack of tissues that he dragged the first two from and tented over his nose.

At his fiancé’s curious expression he explained, “I just want to- you know- get it all out before I have to go in there and act like it’s not bothering me.”

“Oh, okay, sure.” Kip responded, putting the car in park and pulling his phone out of his pocket like his full attention wasn’t focused on Scott. He didn’t have to pretend, but it was sweet of him to at least give Scott the illusion of privacy.

The older man blew forcefully, coughed a few times, leaned forwards in his seat to blow even more forcefully, and then cursed on a sharp inhale, before “hTDSH!”

“Bless you.”

“W-hh-ait- aHSCHhUh!”

“Bless you.”

Scott gave his nose one more blow for good measure, crumpled the tissues into one hand and sniffled as he straightened up. “Thanks.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay to play? I can’t imagine even having to walk around like that, let alone skate at full speed and score goals and be on camera for several hours.”

“Yeah.” He sniffed, frustrated to discover that his nose was starting to run again, and swiping at it with the tissue. “It’s always this bad before I get in there. Adrenaline and air conditioning kinda take care of it, though.”

Kip frowned sympathetically. “If you say so. I brought the meds with us so you can take them right after. You won’t have to wait until we get back to the hotel.”

“You’re an angel.” Scott leaned across the center console, staring into where his fiancé’s eyes probably were- both of them still wearing their sunglasses given the early hour- “Or at least a lifesaver.”

“Wow, demoted from heavenly being to a piece of candy.” The younger man laughed, but he closed the distance between them all the same, the two of them sharing a short kiss, before Scott tried to pull away to sniffle back the flow of what were probably redirected allergic tears, again. God, his whole face was one big fucking itch. People who thought allergies were just a slightly tickly nose were severely mistaken and also blissfully ignorant.

Tried was the key word there, as their sunglasses accidentally linked together- ironically by the nose-pads, and he yanked his fiancé’s pair off, and into the shorter man’s lap, with the movement, watching as his eyes squinted shut against the bright light, taken too much off guard to even move his hands from where they’d ended up- holding onto the lapels of Scott’s jacket, as he ducked forwards into the space between them.

“hTChhew! hhIHSHiew!”

“Fuck, sorry, bless you. God bless you.” The taller man fumbled the glasses back up onto Kip’s face, “Sorry.” The latter staying statue-still so he didn’t get his eye poked out.

Once he was safely protected from the mid-afternoon sunshine again- not exactly the most foreboding nemesis- his fiancé reassured him, “You’re all good, really I should be apologising, I don’t think I turned away like, at all.”

“It’s not your fault, you weren’t expecting it.” Scott shook his head dismissively, cupping the younger man’s face in his hand, “And I’m pretty sure neither of us mind that much.”

Kip blushed. “Get out of my fucking car Scott.”

He ran his fingers along his fiancé’s jawline until he held his chin. “Not until I make sure you’re alright.” Also it wasn’t his car. It was a rented car. But he wasn’t going to point that out and add insult to injury.

“Me alright? It was twice. You’ve been going at it all day. I think I can handle two without turning to dust.” He sniffled, fingers twitching in the taller man’s peripheral vision as he apparently tried not to touch his nose and refute his own point.

Scott decided not to pick him up on not actually voicing the word ‘sneeze’, although it was completely adorable that he couldn’t bring himself to say the ‘salacious’ word. “Yeah, please don’t turn to dust, that might be the end of me.”

The younger man laughed. “If I’m going to die like that then I’m taking you with me.”

“Yeah, till death do us part, for all of two minutes.”

“Wow, you think it would take two full minutes to die in a car filled with one whole human’s worth of dust?”

Scott snorted and shook his head. “Yeah, no, probably more like twenty seconds. Okay, I’ve gotta go in now, before they start thinking I’ve died of pollen exposure or something.” He sighed. “God, I fucking hate spring.”

He leaned in and kissed his fiancé again, noticing that the shorter man was holding his sunglasses on by one arm as they parted.

“See you afterwards.” The latter said with a smile, and another sniff that he’d clearly tried to delay until Scott was out of the car. “I love you.”

The older man opened the glove compartment again, grabbing another napkin and handing it pointedly to Kip as he opened the door with his other hand. “I love you too.”

…

Kip scrolled through his Instagram feed, trying to make the minutes until Scott would come out for warm-up go quicker. As he refreshed it for probably the fiftieth time, he saw that the Admirals’ page had posted a video of cut-together clips of the players walking in towards the locker room, captioned something that he hardly read about ‘game faces on’. Because the face that his fiancé was wearing was not his game face. It was his I’m-trying-really-really-hard-not-to-sneeze face.

The brunet watched the clip over and over, taking in the flaring nostrils, tensed jaw betraying gritted teeth, eyebrows raised in what probably looked to most people like an attentive expression as he he nodded towards the press, but to Kip was blatantly an attempt to keep his eyes from fluttering closed so he wouldn’t give in to the tickle.

He frowned, slightly anxious on his fiancé’s behalf, pulling up their message thread to check on him.

…

“huAHHSHh!-sorry.” He’d managed to muffle the preceding one into his jacket sleeve in the empty corridor, but his entrance into the locker room had occurred simultaneously with the latest sneeze and he’d looked up to see several people looking his way in mild alarm. It kind of had sounded like he’d just come in and yelled for no reason, so, valid reaction.

Thankfully it seemed like the only people in there were players, currently, no family members, or trainers, or press. The team had seen him succumb to whatever the fuck hated him so bad in North Carolina many times now, bar maybe the rookies, and were largely unruffled. He preferred not to get through his apparently mandatory pre-game respiratory system clean-out in front of people he knew less, people who might be overly concerned about his health, or anyone holding a camera or mic, though.

Scott headed for his stall, already squinting as the sensation grew back to a distracting presence in his face again. He braced himself against the shelf, palm planted squarely over his name plate, and raised his other fist to his face, “heHTSCHh! hTDSHh! hh… hyEHSHhoo!”

“Jeez, bless you.” Vaughn said from where he was visibly leaning away from the captain, sitting in his neighbouring stall, one hand raised to his ear dramatically as though Scott had just fired a gun at the same range.

“My bad. Thanks.” He sighed, shoving his bag out of the way and taking a seat, immediately reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose in the hopes that he could quell the itch and the sinus headache in one go. He made no significant impact on either of them.

Vaughn sat up straight again, eyeing the captain in commiseration. “All good. How many are you on now?”

It was definitely one of his more niche superstitions, but an oddly fun one for the team to monitor, apparently, and he had multiple memories of late spring roadies where every sneeze was followed by the corresponding count chorused in response by the rest of the bus, with excited exclamations every time he reached someone’s jersey number. “Fifty si-ihh hiEHTSHh! TSHhUh!”

“God bless.”

“Thanks.” He sniffled heavily. “Fifty eight.”

“Wow.” Carter whistled, impressed. “I wonder what the most I’ve ever gotten up to is.”

Scott almost snorted, and then thought better of it with the current state of his nasal passageways. “Like ten, maybe? Do you even have any allergies?”

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’ proudly

The captain tried not to glare at him in jealousy, reminding himself what good fortune these allergies had turned out to be with his fiancé’s…tastes. “Well, count yourself lucky.” He fished a tissue from his bag, blew his nose forcefully, much to the winger’s unabashedly vocalised disdain, and started to get changed. He was halfway through lacing up his skates when the message came through,

Kip: [shared a post by @nyadmirals]

Kip: bless you, I’m assuming :/

Kip: how are you doing?

Scott clicked through to watch the clip and winced seeing his desperate expression. A quick scroll of the comments told him that, thankfully, no one other than his wonderfully discerning fiancé seemed to have noticed.

You: Thanks 👃 🫠

You: I’m better knowing that you’re here, but I definitely made a pretty dramatic entrance to the locker room…

Kip: oh?

Kip: maybe you’d like to re-enact it for me later ;)

You: Oh absolutely 😉 Not really sure I’ll have a choice in the matter though.

Kip: will it still be bad after you take the full strength stuff?

Kip: I don’t want you to suffer for my sake :(

You: It won’t be great. I’ll be comatose though, so I’ll wait to take it until afterwards. It’s basically a choice between 👃 and 💤.

Kip: I’m sorry :(

Kip: also stop sending me nose emojis you fucking tease. we have a whole game to get through.

You: I have a whole game to get through. You just have to sit and look pretty. Maybe we should even out the suffering.

You: 👃👃👃👃👃👃👃

Kip: turning my phone off.

Kip: good luck.

…

Scott had assumed that, after warm-ups, he’d be completely in the clear. He’d been inside, in filtered air, for a while by then, and his adrenaline was starting to pick up ahead of the game. Once he was in that headspace, there was no way he’d be able to get distracted by anything his immune system had to throw at him.

But he wasn’t quite in ‘game mode’ yet. Because he had to stand here, for almost two minutes, while they sung the anthem. Stick in one hand, helmet in the other, doing his best to only sniff or scrunch his nose when he wasn’t in danger of being on the jumbotron. Which was essentially never.

The captain dropped his gaze and stared at his skates, shifting from one foot to the other, biting his tongue behind closed lips, fighting against the tickle that had swelled in the brief moment of pre-puck-drop calm. They’re halfway through, come on, just hold it in.

His chest juddered involuntarily with a hitching breath, and Scott immediately raised his head expression neutral, lest it look like he was crying or laughing or something. He let himself glance around the arena, knowing where Kip was, that he was watching him, that he probably knew exactly how badly Scott had to sneeze right now, that it was definitely driving him crazy to watch…

He sniffed, the camera feed safely focused on a slow pan across the flag, and suddenly it all came apart. The tickle burst into a burning itch, like a pollen bomb had just detonated inside his nasal passageways, and as he was helplessly fumbling his helmet into his other hand so he could raise one to cover his face, eyes squinting shut, he caught a glimpse of a white jersey and what looked very much like the Empire State Building drifting across the jumbotron. Fuck, they were panning along the line again. He could only hope he’d seen wrong or it was the bench, or they switched the feed before he-

“aAHSCHh! heHTSHh!” Most of the noise was muffled by his glove, he couldn’t even hear it echo off the ice, and there was far too many other sounds currently happening to have drawn the attention of anyone beyond the players to each side of him. Visually, though- he glanced up at the screen, braced for what he knew he would see- himself, halfway through ducking back out of his glove. Oh great, so literally thousands of people had just watched him do that. He couldn’t wait to hear what that signified for his performance this season, and his career trajectory as a whole on every single sporting information source he encountered for the next two weeks.

A glance over at the benches showed him that players on both sides were smirking up at the screen, and even openly laughing as they glanced in his direction. Assholes. This did not mean anything for the game. The game was going to go perfectly.

…

“I looked like an idiot.” Scott lamented, hands planted on the bathroom counter on either side of the sink, as he stared into his own slightly puffy eyes in the mirror.

Kip, squeezing toothpaste onto his toothbrush for him, paused, “No you didn’t. They only really caught the second one on camera, and you had your face hidden anyway. It was cute.”

“I don’t want to look cute before a fucking game.” He frowned, “I want to look intimidating.”

The younger man held out the brush to him, watching as moving one of his supporting hands away to take it made him tilt dazedly to one side. Those were the allergy meds kicking in, making him sleepy and uncoordinated, hence the help he’d had to provide him in preparing to brush his teeth. “It doesn’t matter how you look if you play like that. And I think Carter lost more face than you anyway, he almost face-planted from laughter.”

Scott, already halfway through scrubbing uncoordinatedly at his molars, made eye contact with him in the mirror, speaking awkwardly around a mouthful of toothpaste. “But he was laughing at me. I made us both look sloppy.”

“Try and stop thinking about it.” Kip suggested. “I’m sure everyone else has. You scored, you won, you’re in a great position for the playoffs, no one cares about one little blip during the anthem.”

His fiancé wrinkled his nose bridge doubtfully, and then leaned forwards to spit into the sink. “I wish you were right, but I have a feeling I’m gonna be hearing about sickness and conditioning and the ‘beginning of the end’ until someone else starts to pick up retirement rumors. Bennett already sent me an article called, ‘Admirals’ 5-2 win in Raleigh nothing to sneeze at’.”

Kip fought against a laugh, Scott looking too dispirited to be amenable to having the humor of the situation pointed out to him, deciding to place a sympathetic hand on the taller man’s shoulder as he went back to attacking his teeth with depleted swipes of the brush, eyes drifting shut as he exhaustion became overwhelming.

Neither of them spoke until he was done, leaning forwards to spit again and then staring blankly at the faucet like it would turn itself on and rinse his brush automatically. In the absence of such magic, his fiancé stepped in, taking the toothbrush from his hand as Scott continued to brace himself over the basin, too tired to move away independently.

The younger man watched him in the mirror as he finished the task for him, eyes shut, breathing heavily through his mouth, pausing with the occasional sniffle. Suddenly, just as Kip flicked the faucet off again, his breath caught on the wake of a forceful sniff and he gave an irritated cough against the bicep further from his fiancé.

“Oh fuc-kTSHh!” He ducked towards his chest, trying not to spray the shorter man or the countertop beneath him, “hEHDjsh! The sound came out compressed from the crunched up angle, and his arms shook with the force

Kip set the toothbrush down, “Bles-”

“N-hh-no. huhTSHh!” He stumbled a step backwards, snapping towards his abdomen, fingers clawing at the countertop for purchase.

“You’re going to knock yourself over. Here.” The younger man guided him upright again, pulling him into an embrace, and gently steering his fiancé’s head towards his own shoulder. “There you go.”

Scott’s arms looped around his waist, already leaning heavily on him despite the word that he forced out, “S-sure?”

“I’m sure.” It was more of a ‘sure you understand what I’m going to do?’ than a ‘are you sure you want me to do it?’ and Kip was affirming both. Beyond the fact that his boyfriend dissolving in his arms was unthinkably sexy, he also wanted Scott to feel safe to be at his worst in front of him, they were getting married after all, and to understand that he’d bear the brunt of whatever Scott needed him to without complaint. He wanted him not to have to ask at all, but he knew that the confirmation only being a single word was kind of a miracle in the first place, and he’d already earned so much of the older man’s trust.

“hheHSHh! TSCHh! hyETDSHh! hhH… hTSHh! TsH-TDSHH! huEHSHh!-” It was definitely a longer fit than Kip figured either of them had been expecting, and he found his mind occupied more with keeping both of them balanced, predicting when Scott was about to pitch forwards so he could shift his weight accordingly, and running a soothing hand up and down his back, than with the lewd side of things. “-hyEISHhoo!” He finished, at last.

“Bless you.” Kip said, fixing his fiancé with concerned eyes as he pulled back.

“Thank you. Fucking toothpaste set me off.” He sniffled, “God, it’s always something.”

The shorter man pouted sympathetically, retrieving some toilet paper from the roll and offering it to him. He seemed like he’d already well and truly cleared out any irritants there, but it had left him sniffly, and maybe blowing would make it a little easier to breathe?

Scott, barely paying attention, took it and made towards him, swiping once at the fabric of the hoodie he’d just buried his face in, before Kip pushed him back.

“Not for here.” He pointed at his shoulder. “For here.” He pointed at his fiancé’s nose.

“Right.” The older man blinked slowly. “I think those meds might be kicking in.”

…

He sat on the closed lid of the toilet, staring broodily into space as Kip brushed his own teeth, free hand carding through his fiancé’s hair. They drifted towards the bed after that, though Scott redirected back to the bathroom before he’d even sat down to blow his nose again.

The younger man settled himself sitting back against the headboard, legs stretched out, skimming through his messages to figure out their plans for the next day. They had a little while before the next game, and were spending several days in Raleigh, which was the reason he’d come along in the first place, the slightly relaxed pace was contrary to what was often typical for these roadtrips, and the opportunity to see his boyfriend in the full clutches of spring allergies without the stress of a game… he had a feeling they wouldn’t be leaving the hotel room all too much.

Several squeaky, unproductive sounding noseblows later, Scott joined him, sitting down beside his fiancé and dropping his head to rest on his shoulder. Kip tilted his head to rest on top, privately wondering if he’d noticed the dampness still clinging to the fabric from the fit earlier, since it was the same shoulder. If he had he didn’t seem to show any sign of it, sighing softly and vocally as he fully relaxed.

Kip continued to scroll through his phone, unsure whether the older man was paying attention or if he was already drifting off to sleep. He definitely wasn’t fully asleep though, as he proved seconds later,

“hTDSHh!” Legs jerking with the redirected force as he tried to keep his head on the shorter man’s shoulder.

“Bless you.” Kip, having felt their heads hit softly together as he jolted, rethought the position, pressing a kiss into his messy curls before moving away a little.

“Yeah, b- hEHTDSHhOo! Whoo!” This one threw him fully forward, and his fiancé couldn’t help but think it probably would have been three or so smaller sneezes if the medication wasn’t starting to keep them at bay-and keep him from having any real control over them, it seemed.

“Bless you.”

“Bless me.” Scott echoed with a breathy, distant, laugh. He leaned back, head already dropping towards Kip’s shoulder again, but he missed, thunking against his chest instead, and, too tired to redirect his course, he slid down him until his head was in his lap, shifting his body so he was laying perpendicular to his fiancé, blinking up at him.

“Comfy?” Kip smiled, amused.

“So fucking comfy.”

The younger man extricated his phone from under his fiancé’s shoulder, and watched as his eyes started to drift closed. His breathing slowed and deepened, and he seemed moments from drifting off to sleep when his nose wrinkled, and he raised a faltering hand to rub at it.

Kip watched him scrub at one nostril, and then the other, and back to the first, and then his breath was switching to a different, faster, rhythm, and he was tugging up the collar of his shirt over his nose and mouth.

“hTCHuh!” Scott did half a sit-up. “hyehSHh!” He let the shirt drop back down, and started to relax again.

“Bless you. It’s taking a while to let up, huh?”

“Thanks.” He responded, and then frowned suddenly and deeply, after a moment shutting his eyes and scrunching his face up as if enduring some great pain or pressure. And then his expression was peaceful again.

Kip pressed a grounding hand to his fiancé’s chest. “What’s wrong?”

“Forgot the number for a second.” He responded, tone that of someone who’d just narrowly avoided making a fatal mistake.

“The number?”

“I wanna keep count.” Scott said, seriously, though he addressed the statement more to Kip’s pecs than his face. He was still counting them?

“Why? You’re way over twenty-one. You can relax now.” The younger man smoothed his hair back, supporting the verbal encouragement with a physical one, and watching as his fiancé’s eyes drifted shut, momentarily giving in.

“What if I hit one hundred and twenty-one though? That could be like…” He opened his eyes again, frowning as he tried to concentrate on what that number could portend, “double good luck.”

“Or it could be a visit to the medic to get sedated because one hundred and twenty-one in twenty-four hours is a lot.” Kip pointed out. “What do you need double good luck for anyway? The game’s over. You won.”

“Maybe a hundred twen’y one-” He was slurring his words now, “m’ns g’d luck f’r the whole r’st ’f th’ season!”

The younger man looked doubtful, not that Scott was watching him, because he wasn’t, he actually looked about 85% asleep. “Maybe. I don’t think you need it though. I mean, you’ve got me. Aren’t I enough luck for you?”

“Y’re-” His fiancé poked him in the chest, eyes still shut, and then suddenly gasped, turning his head away from Kip’s body, “hTDSHh! Eighty-si-ihh-x. huAHSHhOo! Eighty-s’v’n.”

“Bless you times eighty-seven.”

“Th’nks. Y’re more th’n ‘nough, ‘kay? For ev’ryth’ng.”

Kip laughed softly, “As sweet as that is, I don’t think I’m enough of a pillow so-”

“You aree.” Scott interrupted, pressing his face into the younger man’s abdomen in an attempt to convince him not to move.

“Not enough for you to wake up without hurting all over, and then even two hundred and twenty-one… sneezes won’t save your game, okay? So-” He patted the taller man’s hip. “Let’s lie down properly, and then you can sleep.”

Scott groaned, but pushed himself up enough that Kip could slip out from underneath him and they could both shift over to their pillows. Kip glanced over at him, arm outstretched to turn off the lights with the switch by the bed, and saw that he was smiling- or his best approximation of a smile under the heavy influence of the medication.

“What?”

“You would f’cking love two hundr’d twen’y ‘ne sneezes. Th’ts your dream.”

Kip, floored by the completely accurate accusation, flushed. “The only dreams you should be thinking about right now are the ones you’re going to have when your head hits that pillow, okay? I can’t believe you’re this out of it and still trying to rile me up.” It was actually fucking adorable that he wouldn’t let himself go to sleep without getting in one last little teasing comment, but if he let Scott know that, he wasn’t sure that either of them would ever get to sleep.

“Mmokay.” Scott’s head hit the pillow with a thump, and he sighed, eyes drifting shut and face slackening as he gave in to the medication and exercise induced exhaustion.

The younger man flicked the lights off, and laid down opposite him, about to close his own eyes, when his fiance muttered, with surprisingly lucid determination, “One day imma g’ve you two hundr’d f’ck’n sn’zes.”

Kip laughed, reaching out blindly to find his hand and squeeze it gently. This prompted one last elaboration from Scott, “M’ybe f’r your b’rthd’y.”

[hachiibun]

Commission for @helloitsme97 of his OCs Ashlee and Sam

If you like my drawings, and are willing and able to do so, please consider commissioning me, pledging to my Patreon, or donating through ko-fi ☕! You're not obliged to, but every bit helps to keep me living decently and I really do appreciate it!

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[debachoory]

Summer colds are the most miserable x_x

Elsa Blood.stone for anon.

[percyphonea]

I/lya loves the beach because it’s warm and sunny and he loves water and also S/hane shirtless is breathtaking

S/hane loves the beach because I/lya looks so happy and comfortable… and also because the saltwater makes I/lya sneeze with tiny little bursts of fits and he’s perfect

[lenishhiew]

Visit Original Link

hey guys... i know it's been a million years but i'm sick. so i'm throwing this at you. and i will either be more active on here from now on or just disappear again. we'll find out together. <3

[dr-ground-zero]

i need a sweet boy with the most kicked puppy vibes ever to ask me to help him with his cold. To snuggle up on my lap and rub his drippy nose into my shoulder and whine about his cold. Let me hold my hand under his nose as he starts to desperately hitch and snz into my hand, fill it with mess only for him to blow his nose without warning and send snot up my wrist and between my fingers

just for him to whine again and rest his nose into my shoulder

he can sneeze there to if he wishes but he might be there for a while bc my hairs a bit long and might end up teasing that poor red angry nose of his

[snrrf]

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woke up to this 🤧

[itchy-nostrils]

Quick and sweaty 🥵 after an early morning walk during a heatwave