On a random night, Penelope is visited by someone she did not expect would want to see her after all the revelation that had happened. And she most certainly did not expected to be cared for by the same visitor while she suffered one of the most painful nights of her courses.
OR the regency Polin period sex / sick fic I promised myself i would write lol
The B/old Type Sickfic (F contagion, Jane, Sutton & Kat)
A soft & sweet sickfic filled with contagion, banter, fluffy care-taking and denial.
Kinda forgot that I was in the middle of migrating my old fics to Tumblr, and that I even wrote this fanfic from The B/old Type years ago. I don't think I've ever seen fics from this TV show before, so it might be too niche, but just in case some of you have seen it and would love it, I'm leaving it right here to be found.
THE STORY: Jane catches a cold and accidentally passes it around to her best friends. It's a mix of platonic care-taking between the girls as well as romantic care-taking with the Jane/Pinstripe and Sutton/Richard pairings. The story happens a few seasons into the show, so there are a bit of spoilers in there, just in case you care.
Enjoy!
The Cold Type
Jane Sloan loved New York. There was nothing quite like taking a stroll down a busy street, watching people go by in a hurry, surrounded by buildings so tall they could kiss the sky. New York had always felt like home to her.
But if there was one thing that she hated about the city, it was winter. Especially when it lingered well into spring, blowing freezing winds through thin coats until every single hair raised in shivery protest.
It wasn’t that Jane didn’t own warmer coats—quite the contrary: she owned many, many coats. It was just that New York had moved on to spring fashion weeks ago. It was officially trench coat and bomber jacket season. Sure, Jane could have checked the weather before leaving her apartment in the morning, but then she might have missed the next train, which was a big no-no. Sometimes, the easiest choice was the worst one, and when you’re battling a low-level morning headache, there’s just no way around it.
And that’s why Jane cursed herself as she trudged down the street, wrestling the wind and struggling to keep her military green bomber jacket closed against her chest. When she finally reached her office building, she gratefully slipped through the door and welcomed the comparative peace and quiet of the atrium. Sure, there was the usual morning bustle as everyone made their way to their floor to start their workday, but it was nothing compared to the whistling of an insistent winter wind.
Jane sniffled, her nose running from the change of temperature. And, of course, she hadn’t brought tissues either. Tissues were for winter jackets.
“Jane!” called Kat at the top of the escalator leading to the lobby, waving two to-go coffee cups. Sutton stood next to her, flashing Jane a smile. They both looked fabulous, as always, and Jane was hit by a surge of love for her best friends.
After a quick ride up the escalator, during which Jane tried to get her shivering body under control, she lurched forward towards the coffee cup that Kat held out for her. Holding it with both hands, Jane took a sip, hoping the steaming liquid would warm her from the inside.
“Well, hello to you too,” said Kat with a raised eyebrow.
“Cold,” said Jane in-between sips. “So cold.”
Kat put her arm around Jane’s shoulder, bringing her closer. “You should have worn something warmer, silly.”
“Can’t. It’s spring,” mumbled Jane as the three girls headed towards the elevator.
“So?” asked Kat.
“You can’t argue with fashion,” said Sutton. “But you can accessorize better,” she added, removing her large pale blue scarf and wrapping it around Jane’s neck. “This is called ‘fashion smart.’”
“I could have used some of your ‘fashion smart’ this morning, but you were gone before I even woke up,” said Jane, arranging the scarf with her free hand. “I don’t even know how you’re functioning with so little sleep.” Her voice caught at the end of the sentence. She cleared her throat, wincing.
Sutton sighed, pressing the elevator button. “We’ve got so much work to do before Paris fashion week. I’m basically working 20 hours a day at this point. I don’t even know why I go back to the apartment at all.”
“I have a tent you can borrow,” said Kat with a teasing smile. “It’s a pop-up tent. You just put it on the ground, pull a little, and SURPRISE! It’s a fully assembled tent. It would work great in the office.”
“Amazing,” said Sutton with mock enthusiasm.
Jane felt a prickle in her nose, burning like wildfire through her sinuses. A quick, squeaky gasp escaped her lips as she turned away from her friends, her breath catching in her throat. “Hhh—Ihh’TSCHheew! Ehh’TSCHheew!”
“Bless—“ started Kat.
“NN’TSCHheew! Excuse me.”
“Bless you!” said Kat and Sutton almost in unison. Kat examined Jane’s face, as if seeing it for the first time today. “Are you getting sick?”
Jane shook her head. “No.”
Sutton narrowed her eyes. “You do sound a little… scratchy,” she said, wriggling her fingers in front of her own throat.
Kat nodded, leaning towards Jane for a better look. “She does. And she’s a bit pale, too.”
“Guys, I’m not sick.” Jane sighed. “It was just a sneeze. Calm down.”
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. The three girls stepped in, along with a few other employees.
“It was three, actually,” said Sutton, pressing Scarlet’s floor button.
“Three pretty strong sneezes,” added Kat, biting her lips to repress a smile.
Jane knew the more she reacted, the more they would tease her about it, but for some reason, their accusation really irritated her. So she’d sneezed and was a bit tired. Big deal. She was not sick.
“Guys, just stop. Can’t a girl sneeze in peace in this world anymore? Sheesh.” Jane had tried to spin her reply in a carefree, fun way, but it had come out a lot harsher than she’d intended.
“Whatever. Just don’t get me sick,” said Sutton, matching her seriousness. “I don’t have time to get sick.”
“Not a problem. ’Cause I’m not sick.”
~~~
Jane sat in the conference room, nursing her second round of coffee that morning. The first one hadn’t made a dent in her fatigue. She wondered if Kat had accidentally gotten her a decaf latte. This time, she’d chosen a dark roast and had forgone milk and sugar; a pitiful attempt at tricking her body into thinking the coffee was stronger. She’d written an article about the power of the placebo effect during her recent stint as a freelancer, so this would be an interesting experience. At the very least, the disgustingly bitter taste would be enough to keep her awake during the pitch meeting. She took another sip, grimacing.
Jacqueline C/arlyle waltzed into the room, ready for business. Everyone around the table, including Jane, immediately sat straighter. It wasn’t that Jacqueline intimidated them—although on some levels, she did—, it was more that she inspired them to be better. The editor-in-chief emanated an aura of confidence and self-control, enveloped in just enough warmth to nurture and encourage growth. Jane aspired to be even half the woman Jacqueline was when she reached her age.
“Alright everyone,” said Jacqueline, standing at the end of the table, a cordial smile on her lips, “let’s hear your pitches for this week. I’d like us to extend our theme of powerful women hiding within the workplace. We’ll also need a few light pieces and a quiz for this month.”
Jacqueline went around the table, listening to pitches and guiding writers in the right direction. Jane watched her work, transfixed. Soon, her mind started floating around the room, her eyes unfocused. However, when one of the writers proposed a piece about women in the White House, Jane snapped back to reality. Her heart dropped to the floor.
That was the pitch she was going to propose when her turn came.
Panicked, she crossed it off the page in her notebook, but there was nothing else to fall back on. She’d been so confident that Jacqueline would love it that she hadn’t come up with a plan B. And sure enough, Jacqueline gave the writer the green light for the piece. Great.
There were only two more people before Jane. She had to think fast, but her mind was blank, her thoughts dry. Awakened by the rush of adrenaline, Jane’s nose started tickling again, adding to her distraction. Women in hiding, women in hiding, she mumbled under her breath, trying to jolt her brain awake. Her nose twitched as the tickle turned into a sparkle, making her eyes water. She tried to control her breathing, but the brewing sneeze wasn’t going to give up so easily.
“Jane?” asked Jacqueline, looking down at her notebook.
Jane didn’t answer, struggling with the tickle. She brought up her elbow and turned towards the side, getting ready for a sneeze that suddenly didn’t want to come out.
Jacqueline lifted her gaze. “Jane?”
“Hhh—Ihh’TSCHhheew! So sorry, I—’TSChheew!”
“Oh, bless you! You alright there?”
Jane sniffled quietly, sitting upright in her chair. “Yes. Sorry about that.”
“No need to apologize. So, what do you have for me this week?”
Jane stared at the elegant older woman, trying to throw out an idea. Any idea. Or even form words with her mouth. Any word. “Um…” She saw her boss’s features transform from an open smile to a puzzled raised eyebrow. “Uhhh…”
“Do you want me to come back to you?”
“No! I just…” Jane cursed herself internally. Why hadn’t she said yes? What was wrong with her? “I was thinking about…” Finally, an idea hit her. “Pseudonyms!” she practically yelled, raising halfway in her chair. “Women authors using pseudonyms or initials in order to make it in the book publishing industry.” She saw Jacqueline’s eyes light up, which spurred her forward. “I could interview authors and agents to find out if and why it’s affecting how readers choose books to purchase.”
“That sounds great Jane! Let’s go with that.”
Jane smiled and relaxed in her seat. But her elation was short-lived. She didn’t actually know anyone in the publishing industry.
Where would she even start?
~~~
“You look terrible,” said Kat as she leaned on Jane’s desk. Her friend was slumped in her chair, her eyes glazed over as she stared at the screen.
There was no doubt in Kat’s mind that Jane was sick, no matter how much the brunette denied it. It was kind of adorable how much Jane argued about it, right up until the point where she could no longer hide it. Kat wondered if it was because Jane hated appearing vulnerable, or if she was actually trying to convince herself that she was healthy.
Jane sighed, rubbing her forehead as if to calm a nagging headache. “I’m just tired.” She grabbed her empty mug and peered into it. “Wanna grab coffee downstairs?”
“Sure! I was actually going to ask if you wanted to get some lunch.”
Jane scrunched up her nose. “Not really hungry. But I’ll come along. I can use a break from… doing absolutely nothing except panicking.”
Kat pouted, resisting the urge to say something about Jane’s lack of appetite. She already looked miserable, and Kat didn’t want to irritate her even more. Plus, it wasn’t as fun to tease Jane without Sutton around.
Kat linked her arm around Jane’s as they headed downstairs. “What’s going on?”
“Just got my assignment for the week,” Jane said, her voice cracking at the edge. “Actually, I assigned myself a piece without any leads and I just spent the entire morning trying to figure out my angle. Do you happen to know any authors or agents?”
Kat shook her head. “Not personally, but I can poke around my contacts on social media if you need. What’s the piece about?”
“Women using male pseudonyms to publish books.”
“Oh, kind of like L. M. Montgomery?”
“Yeah, but I want the opinion of women currently in the industry to see if the new feminism movement has changed anything. Except I don’t know where to start.” She laid her head on Kat’s shoulder and sighed.
Kat frowned. It wasn’t like Jane to feel so defeated over something as simple as finding contacts. There were multiple ways to approach it, and Jane had done it before. Kat knew it was a sign that her friend wasn’t feeling well. It broke her heart.
“Let me know how I can help. If you think of anyone, I can try to reach out. You know the six degrees of Kevin Bacon thing? I’m like three degrees closer.”
Jane laughed, which triggered a small, pitiful cough. Kat cooed and squeezed her friend closer. She wondered how long it would take before Jane gave in and finally agreed to rest. Last time, it had taken a good three days and a lot of convincing. And some yelling.
Kat was grateful that her immune system was basically indestructible. She hadn’t been sick in nearly four years, and couldn’t remember how it felt to have a cold. She attributed it to a good sleeping routine and her daily morning smoothie. All that vitamin C was paying off, baby!
As soon as they reached the ground floor, the pair headed for the coffee shop in the center of the lobby. Midday light filtered in from the two-story windows covering the outside wall. People milled around, drinking coffee, sitting with their laptops at the many tables scattered around the open space. Kat smelled the aroma of coffee and fresh bread wafting around, her stomach grumbling. Maybe she would get a sandwich at the café. She didn’t really want to force Jane to go out in the cold if she didn’t need to.
“Sloan!” a man called behind them.
The two girls turned around. Pinstripe, a.k.a Ryan, a writer who used to work upstairs at Pinstripe magazine, walked towards them with a big grin on his face. Beard stubbles, short haircut, leather jacket over black t-shirt and tight black jeans—he looked like he had just jumped out of a romance novel about a reformed bad boy with a heart of gold. Kat still didn’t quite know what to think of him yet. Or even what Jane truly thought of him. The two had dated very briefly until Jane had realized that he wasn’t ready to commit.
“So we meet again,” said Jane, her voice dripping with sarcasm. That was their thing. Sarcasm. Kat didn’t really get it, but she always enjoyed watching it unfold.
“It’s equally lovely to see you,” said Pinstripe. His smile faltered as he examined Jane’s face. “Rough party last night?”
Kat bit her lip to stop herself from giggling. She felt Jane tense next to her.
“No. It’s Monday. This is my Monday face.” Just as she said it, her nose scrunched up. Her eyelids fluttered and her mouth hung open for a moment. She turned to her side and sneezed into her elbow. “Ihh’TSCHhheew! Ugh. Ehhh… Ehh—TSCHhheew!”
“Bless you, Sloan!” said Pinstripe, a hint of surprise in his voice. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sneeze.”
“Well, congratulations, you got a two-for-one deal. Hope you enjoyed the show.” Jane’s voice was strained and exhausted, void of her usual liveliness. Even Pinstripe seemed to notice it.
Kat tried to change the subject. “You know, for someone who doesn’t work here anymore, you sure hang out in the lobby a lot.”
“Oh, Sloan didn’t tell you? I got a book deal upstairs. I’m just meeting with my editor.”
“Congratulations!” Kat said, then turned to Jane. “Wait, Jane, weren’t you—“
Jane’s face lit up. “Oh my god, how could I even forget this? Of course!”
Pinstripe stood in silence, looking back and forth between the girls with a confused look.
“I’m writing a piece on the publishing industry,” explained Jane, suddenly a little more alive. “Do you think you could hook me up with a few contacts?”
Pinstripe smiled. “Sloan, if you keep asking me for favors, you’re going to owe me for eternity.”
“Hey, you said I was the one who pushed you to write this book. You owe me!”
Pinstripe chuckled and bowed his head. “Good point.” He glanced at his watch. “I have a meeting in a few minutes, but let’s meet up tomorrow afternoon at our usual spot?”
Jane nodded. “Sounds good. See you then.”
Kat watched him walk towards the elevator, silence stretching between Jane and her. She held it in for as long as she could, but it was too much to bear. “’Our usual spot?’” she asked in a sing-song tone.
“It’s a coffee shop,” said Jane with a warning look, but a smile on her lips. “Don’t you start.”
Kat shrugged. “Just sayin’! You’re kind of playing with fire here, Jane.”
“Speaking of fire, let’s get some coffee. It’s freezing in here.”
Kat nodded. It wasn’t really that cold in the lobby, but she could see the goosebumps on Jane’s arms. She wondered if she could get her to wear the wool cardigan she kept in her office for when the AC blasted frigid air in the summer. The trick was to figure out a way to offer it to Jane without making it obvious that Kat knew she was sick.
She decided it would be her challenge for the day.
~~~
The next morning, Richard H/unter jogged to the elevators, suitcase in hand. “Hold it please!” he yelled, making it just in time to prevent the doors from closing. He stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed that none other than Sutton stood in the center of the elevator, alone.
Her eyes widened when she realized it was him. Richard finally stepped in with a polite smile and stood next to her, his heart beating out of his chest. It always did that when he ran into Sutton at work. It was excruciating.
“Good morning,” he said.
Sutton smiled and nodded without looking straight at him.
As the elevator rode up, Richard stole a glance at her. Frowning, he noticed that she looked pale, and her nose was a bit red. Had she been crying? His heart dropped at the memory of the last time he’d seen her cry, when she’d put an end to their secret relationship.
Sutton sniffled. A quiet little noise that caught Richard’s attention.
“Are you alright?” he asked, his professional front disintegrating.
She looked at him, then looked down. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
But Richard heard it. A bit of congestion in her voice, a slight croak. She’s sick, he realized. Just as he was about to say something, the elevator doors opened. People filed in, splitting Richard and Sutton apart.
Suddenly, Richard heard a tiny gasp, followed by a dainty sneeze. He turned his head in time to catch Sutton bent to the side, her hand over her mouth. His “bless you” got lost in the few other well wishes around, and soon enough, Sutton stepped off the elevator onto her floor. The door closed shut behind her, leaving Richard concerned, and yearning to see her again.
He shut his eyes for a moment. Sutton had made her choice, and so had he. There was no going back.
~~~
Sutton brought a tissue to her nose, wiping it in anger as she rushed to Oliver’s office. She hated sneezing in tight crowds, and of course it had to have happened with Richard two feet away. Her face was still hot from embarrassment. Not only did she have to deal with this, but now she’d have to face Oliver’s wrath for being late. All because she’d slept through her alarm.
And all because she’d caught Jane’s stupid cold.
Her head was swimming, her sinuses were hurting, her throat was scratchy. She’d slept like a brick under the effect of Nyquil, so much so that she hadn’t heard Jane leave. Why hadn’t she woken her up?
As she rushed past Jane’s desk, she leaned towards her roommate and whispered, “You got me sick AND you didn’t wake me up?!”
Jane’s surprised gaze met hers. “I’m not sick,” she whispered back, “and I left early to work on my piece!”
Sutton grunted, resuming her speed walk. She didn’t have time for this. As soon as he saw her from behind the glass walls of his office, Oliver called out to her with his booming voice, earning a few glances from the writers.
“Red!” he yelled. “Where the hell were you?”
Sutton rushed towards him. “I’m so sorry Oliver, I—“
“I don’t have time for excuses,” Oliver interrupted her. He glanced up at her from the portfolio he held in his hand. His expression softened a bit. Did Sutton look so bad that even Oliver pitied her? “Don’t be late again. Especially before Paris. Got it?”
“Got it,” said Sutton, nodding.
Her boss proceeded to list about a thousand tasks he needed her to do, including retrieving a few missing pieces for the collection they were bringing to Paris. Sutton took note of everything, her handwriting becoming mere scribbles as she tried to keep up.
Her nose started tickling. She bit her tongue, hoping to ward off the sneeze, to no avail. She held her breath, still writing, until the burning in her sinuses took over and she could no longer control it. She brought her wrist up to her nose and stifled an exasperated double. “Hhh! KSCHhh! Ihh’KSCHhh!”
“Oh and Red?” said Oliver when she was done.
Sutton sniffled. “Yes?”
“Please keep your germs contained.”
Sutton’s face caught fire once again. She wished she’d just stayed in bed and hid from the world underneath her covers, but the fashion department was under stress from the preparations, and they were already understaffed. There was no way Sutton could take a sick day without jeopardizing the schedule—and letting Oliver down.
She turned around, ready to leave, when Oliver added, “Make sure to bundle up, too.” He kept his gaze on the pile of forms on his desk. “It’s cold outside.”
Sutton smiled to herself. At least he wasn’t too mad.
~~~
“Ehh—Hhh’TSCHheew!”
“Bless you, Sloan,” said Pinstripe, offering her a napkin. “This is the fourth sneeze in half an hour. Are you ready to throw in the towel and admit that you’re under the weather?”
The two sat in their usual spot, a typical hipster coffee shop filled with plants, mismatched chairs and handlebar mustachioed men. The sound of quiet chatter and keyboard typing filled the room around them, and Jane probably would have been able to smell the familiar scent of freshly roasted coffee beans if it wasn’t for her deeply congested nose.
She grabbed the napkin from Pinstripe and groaned. Admitting that she was sick was already hard, but doing it in front of Pinstripe was just the rotten cherry on the expired cake. But there was no denying it. Her symptoms were ten times worse than the day before. She battled a constant tickle in her nose, on top of a sinus headache, a runny nose and chills.
“So I’ve caught a bit of a cold, what’s the big deal?”
Pinstripe gave her an empathetic smile, which sent Jane into a confusing mix of irritation and gooey warmth. “I mean this in the best way possible, but you really don’t sound good, Jane.”
“Don’t you ‘Jane’ me,” she said, rubbing her temples. He only used her first name when he was being serious.
“Isn’t your boyfriend a doctor? Can’t he magically cure you of this cold?”
Jane rolled her eyes, taking another sip of coffee. “He’s really busy at the hospital this week. Tonight is his only night off.” She regretted saying this immediately. It sounded needy, like she was complaining that Ben wasn’t available enough. It hadn’t been a problem until yesterday evening when she’d felt like crap and wished he could have been there to keep her warm. She knew it was just the cold making her feel vulnerable. It was a horrible feeling.
Pinstripe leaned over the table, looking at her straight in the eyes. “You should go home and sleep. You have more than enough time to write your article.”
“I don’t even have a lead yet,” Jane whined.
“I’ve got one for you.” He passed her a Post-it note with a few names and phone numbers written on it. “I’m sure at least one of them will be happy to meet with you. When you’re healthy.”
Jane made a face at him, which quickly morphed into a pre-sneeze expression. She unfolded the napkin and sneezed into it, away from the table. “IIHH’TSCHhheew! Ugh, this is get—getting o—’TSCHhheew!… old.”
“Bless you,” said Pinstripe, his voice modulated by a hint of tenderness Jane didn’t know he could muster. “Go home. Take care of yourself.”
She smiled. “I’ll think about it.”
~~~
Sutton pushed the heavy door of Safford’s building with her shoulder, her hands full of garment bags. Grunting, she slipped through the small crack she managed to open for herself, careful not to get the bags stuck in the door. Why was it that the entrance was always crowded when she was in a rush, making it impossible to get through, but when she needed help with the door, the place was deserted?
She gave a short, polite smile to the security guard at the badge station, and managed to swipe her badge on the scanner without dropping anything. She took a deep breath, looking at the escalator as if it were an insurmountable mountain. Her arms were so tired of carrying such a big load that her muscles were shaking.
She had spent the entire day running around the city, picking up clothing and jewelry requested by Oliver. Running in and out of overheated offices into the cold New York streets had done a number on her sick body, confusing its temperature regulation. Sutton felt both hot and cold, and didn’t know if she dreamed of a hot bath or an iced cold lemonade at the moment.
She’d blown through three packets of pocket tissues and had been blessed by at least four different Uber drivers. As she walked through the atrium, she avoided looking at the huge decorative mirror on the wall. If she looked anything like she felt, she’d be mortified that anyone had seen her like this. She’d rather not know at all.
She sniffled, her nose tickling like crazy. With no hands to grab a tissue, all she could do was wiggle it and hope for the best. The tickle vibrated through the bridge of her nose, making her breath itch. She didn’t stop, fumbling forward as her eyes closed.
“Hhh’KSCHhh!… IHH’KSCHHh!”
The sneezes were desperate and powerful, bending her at the waist, which was all it took for her to lose her balance. She yelped, feeling herself fall forward, but a steady hand grabbed her at the last moment.
“Easy,” said the man as he helped her right herself.
Sutton’s heart flipped in her chest. She’d recognize the voice anywhere.
“Richard! I—Hhh’KSChhh!”
Richard tightened his grip on her arm, steadying her. When she met his gaze, Sutton noticed Richard’s eyes were filled with concern. Her heart ached with a desire to press herself against his chest and feel his arms envelop her. But she couldn’t. She’d made her decision—she’d chosen her career over Richard. And now he had a girlfriend.
“Bless you,” Richard murmured, his warm hand still against Sutton’s arm. When he realized it, he took it off. “Are you alright?”
Sutton nodded, trying to pry her eyes away from his. His brow furrowed as if to say, “No you’re not.” It was a look he’d given her before, when they’d sneak into each other’s apartment at night to be together. She knew his body language like the back or her hand, and so did he.
She gave a short, pitiful laugh. “I’ll be OK. I just… I caught a cold. From Jane. It’s nothing.” He cast another doubtful, protective look upon her.
“Sutton!” yelled another voice nearby.
Sutton looked up to see Kat jogging down the escalator.
“Are you OK?” Kat asked as she reached Sutton and Richard.
“Yeah, Richard saved me,” Sutton said with a sad smile.
“Amazing.” Kat briefly nodded at Richard. “Here, let me help you bring these up,” she said to Sutton, grabbing most of the garment bags. “I haven’t seen you all day, where have you been?”
“Getting all of these,” Sutton said. She looked back at Richard again. He seemed uncomfortable and awkward, something she’d never witnessed before. It was odd to see such a professional, put-together executive suddenly feel small and out of place.
“I should probably go,” Richard said, pointing towards the elevator. “Take care of yourself, alright?”
Sutton smiled and nodded.
When he was a few paces away, Kat whispered, “Wanna wait until he’s gone so we’re not stuck in the same elevator as him?”
Sutton scoffed. “Uh, yeah!”
Once the coast was clear, they headed back to the office.
“So you caught Jane’s non-existent cold, huh?”
Sutton rolled her eyes. “If only she’d admit it sooner, maybe she wouldn’t spread it to everyone around. Although I guess I’m no better, sneezing all over the place. I’m probably going to get you sick.” She took a few steps away from Kat.
“Nah-ah!” said Kat. “I don’t get sick. My immune system is impenetrable.” She raised her fists under the garment bags. “Come at me, viruses! Adena says I’m going to jinx myself if I keep saying it.”
Sutton shifted her pile of garment bags under one arm and used her free hand to fetch a balled-up tissue, having no choice but to re-use it. She wiped her nose gingerly. “How is it going with Adena and the whole ‘open relationship’ thing?”
Kat deflated a bit. “It’s… alright. It’s not bad.”
Sutton raised an eyebrow.
“I just... On the one hand, it’s fun to explore my sexuality with different girls and see what I like, but on the other hand, it just feels… empty? And I’m starting to miss Adena. We don’t see each other as much.”
“Maybe you just need to take a small break and spend time with her?”
“I would, but she’s at a retreat right now. I’ve got a date tomorrow night, actually. Might as well use up the time when Adena’s gone.”
Sutton could tell the novelty of the experience was waning, and Kat wasn’t having that much fun anymore, but she didn’t know how to help her friend. She had no experience with open relationships and was worried that she’d give her the wrong advice.
“Well, I’m here if you want to talk or hang out.”
Kat smiled. “I know. And I’m here to rescue you from evil garment bags. And Richard.”
Sutton sighed. “Sometimes I don’t know if I want to be rescued from him.”
~~~
Jane sat on her couch, burritoed into a blanket while her boyfriend read the thermometer he had just plucked out of her mouth. She couldn’t believe that the only night she got to spend with Ben this week would be completely ruined by a stupid cold.
“Just a low-grade fever. You’ll be fine. Rest and drink plenty of fluids.”
Jane groaned and buried her face under the blanket. “I feel so gross.”
Ben smiled and patted her on the back. “It’s just a good old regular cold.”
The only answer she could muster from underneath the blanket was two exhausted sneezes. “Hhh’TSCHheew! Hhh—TSCHheew!”
“Bless you.” His Australian accent managed to make even a “bless you” sound sexy to Jane. If only she didn’t feel so rotten. “Need more tissues?”
Jane mumbled a “yes” before coming up for air, sniffling. After spending the afternoon on the phone scheduling meetups with Pinstripe’s contacts, her condition had deteriorated to the point where she could no longer focus on the screen. She’d spent the evening on the couch, feeling sorry for herself.
The door to the apartment opened and closed. Jane watched as Sutton stepped into the living room, looking worse for wear. She glared at Jane, then shuffled to the couch. “Move,” she told Jane, flopping dramatically between her and Ben. “I feel like death.”
“You too?” said Ben, unable to repress a smile. “How about I make you guys some tea?”
Both girls nodded. As soon as he got up from the couch, Sutton grabbed the blanket he had been sitting on and buried into it. “You’re already admitting that you’re sick and it’s only day two. Impressive,” said Sutton, her voice heavy with congestion.
“I didn’t have much choice.” Her symptoms had hit her so hard so fast. She was used to a slow build, which sometimes turned into a false alarm, but this cold was feisty.
Jane looked at her friend, noticing the flush high on her cheeks and her poor irritated nose. She felt terrible about passing on her germs to Sutton, but then again, they lived in a one-bedroom apartment. Sutton slept in the living room, and they shared a tiny closet of a bathroom. It was impossible not to spread a cold in such close quarter. She’d be worried about getting Ben sick too if she didn’t know he’d built an amazing immune system from years of working in a hospital.
“I’ll get my revenge somehow,” mumbled Sutton, as if reading her mind.
Jane pushed gently on Sutton’s thigh with her fuzzy sock-cladded foot. “Come on, I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.” She pouted at her roommate, but Sutton shook her head. Jane tried again. “I’m really, really sor—Eh… Ihh’TSCHheew! Sorry—’TSCHheew!”
“God, it’s impossible to be mad at you when you sound so mise—miserable—Hhh’KSCHHhh!”
The two girls burst out laughing, passing around a box of tissues. They were quiet for a bit, lulled by the sound of ceramic cups clattering in the kitchen and water rushing out of the tap.
“I fell into Richard’s arms today,” said Sutton, mid-blowing her nose.
Jane’s mouth fell open. “Nooo! What happened?”
“I guess the correct way to describe it is that I sneezed myself off my feet, and he prevented me from face-planting on the marble floor.”
Jane grimaced. “How did that go?”
“My head is intact, but my heart is in pieces.” She threw the used tissue in a nearby overflowing bin. “How long will it take before it stops hurting?”
Jane bit her lip. Sutton had had a hard time letting go of Richard since she’d put an end to their relationship, and learning that he had a new girlfriend had only made it worse. You only know you love someone when you let them go, thought Jane, but she didn’t say it aloud. There was no need to rub salt in the wound.
“I guess heartbreak is just like a cold. Only time and rest will heal it,” Jane said.
Sutton laughed. “That should be your next article.”
“Oh yes, because I’m sure Scarlet’s readers would love to hear all about the intersection of runny noses and missed opportunities.”
Sutton laid her head on the armrest, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. “No but think about it. The scratchy throat is like small issues that pop up in the relationship. And if you don’t do anything about it, it turns into a sore throat, which is when you start yelling at each other. When you grow apart, you start feeling chills because you’ve lost the warmth of the other. And the headache is pretty self-explanatory.”
“I think your fever is higher than mine,” mused Jane, laughing. “You’re not making any sense.”
“Excuse me? It makes perfect sense.”
“OK, what about sneezing? What does it mean?”
Sutton remained silent for a few seconds. “Sneezing means… Uhh… Sneezing means that—Hhh’KSCHhh! Alright sneezing means nothing—it just sucks, and being sick sucks, and metaphors suck.”
Jane burst out laughing, and Sutton soon joined in, until they both started coughing from laughing too much. Ben walked in with two steaming mugs, telling them to settle down and have some tea to soothe their throats.
Sutton sat up and grabbed her mug. “Can’t you just give us some kind of pill or shot to cure this?” she asked Ben.
Ben shook his head. “I’m afraid not. All you girls need is rest, which neither of you seem too keen on getting.”
His remark was met with the deafening silence of two stubborn career-driven women.
~~~
The next morning, Richard took the elevator down to Scarlet’s office for a meeting with Jacqueline. As the floor number decreased, he caught himself readjusting his tie as if it was too tight. He forced his hands down and clenched his jaw.
He hoped he would see Sutton, but also hoped he wouldn’t.
Things had been rocky with his girlfriend in the past few weeks. He wasn’t sure anymore if she was right for him, though he hadn’t been able to express why. Now he was starting to get a clearer picture: She just wasn’t Sutton.
Richard recalled his last run-in with Sutton the day before, when she’d almost fallen in the atrium. How lucky for him to have been so close to her when it had happened. Touching her had sent a jolt of electricity through his veins.
She’d looked so exhausted. He hoped that she was at home resting today.
As soon as he stepped into Scarlet’s offices, Richard looked towards Oliver’s atelier, his eyes searching for Sutton. He spotted her immediately. She had her back to him, leaning over a table filled with accessories. As Richard approached Jacqueline’s office, Sutton turned her head, giving Richard a better look at her face. She seemed even sicker than the day before, her skin pale and her nose bright red. She stood a little slumped over, as if her body didn’t have the energy to stay upright. Richard’s heart ached for her.
“Richard?” called Jacqueline, standing in the doorway of her office. “Everything alright?”
Richard plastered a smile on his face and forced himself to walk towards Jacqueline. “Yes, sorry. I thought I saw something.”
Jacqueline glanced towards Oliver’s office, but had the grace not to ask any more questions. Richard forced himself to focus on the task at hand and sat down with Jacqueline to discuss business.
Towards the end of the meeting, Richard noticed Sutton walking towards the kitchen, stopping midway to sneeze into a tissue.
“Well, I think that about covers it,” said Jacqueline, following his gaze once again.
Richard smiled. “Great. I’ll bring your concerns to the board and see what I can do.” He stood up. “Was there anything else?”
“No, you’re free to go!” Jacqueline gestured towards the door. “Have a great day, Richard.”
He could almost hear a hint of teasing in her voice, but he didn’t know if he was imagining it. His relationship with Sutton had been a secret. No one in the office except for Kat and Jane were supposed to know, but maybe his body language had been too obvious, and Jacqueline had picked up on it. He really needed to work on that.
Richard walked out of Jacqueline’s office, heading for the restroom, but made a sharp turn into the kitchen at the last moment. Sutton stood by the coffee machine, trying to choose a coffee pod from the selection on the counter. She stifled a cough in her elbow, then cleared her throat.
Richard moved towards the sink and opened a cupboard, picking up a packet of tea. Sutton had seemed to notice his presence but didn’t say anything.
“You should really be drinking this instead,” Richard said, handing her the tea sachet.
Sutton smiled and took it, turning it into her hands. “That’s what everyone has been telling me, but I could really use the coffee.” Her voice was a wreck, almost gone.
Richard winced. “You really don’t sound good.”
Suddenly, Sutton’s face fell and her eyes half-closed. Her button nose scrunched up. She turned to the side, her body jerking forward under the force of the sneezes. “IHh’KSCHhh! HHh’KSCHHhhh!”
“Bless you,” Richard said, handing her the handkerchief from his breast pocket. He didn’t care if anyone wondered where it went, or even if they saw Sutton with it. He would have before, worried about keeping their relationship a secret, but now it didn’t matter.
Sutton took it, wiping her nose delicately. “Thank you.”
“Sutton, you really need to go home. You have to rest, or you’ll keep getting worse.”
Sutton’s eyes filled with tears. “I wish I could but I have so much work. I can’t just leave.” She blinked the tears away before they fell, shaking her head lightly. “I’ll sleep as soon as fashion week is over.”
Richard just wanted to hold her and make it all better, but all he could do was put a hand on her arm. He noticed she looked flushed, and her body was giving off unnatural heat. He furrowed his brow, his lips a thin line. “Do you have a fever?”
Sutton shrugged. “I’m not sure,” she whispered, avoiding his eyes.
Richard placed his hand on her forehead without really thinking. For a second, he’d managed to forget that they weren’t intimate anymore, his concern clouding everything else. Sutton closed her eyes as if his hand felt nice against her skin, relief washing over her face. Richard kept it there a little longer. She was burning up.
Then he heard footsteps and conversation coming their way. He quickly removed his hand and took a few steps back, crashing down to reality. Sutton frantically spun towards the coffee maker to act busy. Two HR employees came into the kitchen with empty mugs.
“I would recommend the arabica. It’s pretty nice,” Sutton said to Richard in her professional, yet broken voice, a fake smile plastered on her face.
Richard nodded and thanked her, playing along. He watched Sutton fill her mug with hot water, the bag of tea still in her palm. She left the kitchen, shooting him one last parting smile.
He hoped the tea would make her feel at least a little better.
~~~
“And then he just put his hand on your forehead?” asked Kat, a mix of astonishment and giddiness in her voice.
She sat on the pouf in the fashion closet, surrounded by lavish designer clothes. Jane and Sutton laid on the carpeted ground, passing a box of tissues back and forth, looking like two miserable messes.
Sutton nodded. “Yep.” She’d called an emergency meeting in the closet after her encounter with Richard.
Kat couldn’t tell if Sutton’s red cheeks were caused by her cold, or Richard’s tender move. She bit her lip, torn between feeling annoyed that Richard kept popping up in Sutton’s life and acting so concerned for her, which inevitably sent Sutton into a downward spiral of regret, and secretly hoping that it meant they were on the way to reuniting again. Deep down, she felt like they were meant for each other.
“How do you feel?” asked Jane, blowing her nose.
“Like hell.”
Jane scoffed. “I mean about Richard.”
“Like hell,” repeated Sutton. “It was… so nice. I could feel actual sparks when his hand touched my forehead. I don’t know. Maybe it’s just because his hand was cold and my forehead is basically molten lava.”
Kat slipped down on the ground and placed her hand on Sutton’s forehead. “Like this?” She frowned. “My god, you are burning up. You really need to go home.”
Sutton closed her eyes. “People need to stop telling me to go home. I wish I could go home. I dream about going home. I just can’t.” She sighed, then opened her eyes to look at Kat. “Also, this is super nice, but there’s no spark.”
Kat moved her hand down Sutton’s neck in small, soothing motions. Suddenly, Sutton grabbed her wrist, moving it away from her face. Her nostrils flared, her eyes unfocused. “I’m about to… snee—“ Kat leaned out of the way. “Hh’KSCHhhh!”
“Bless you,” said Kat and Jane.
Sutton groaned, her hand over her nose. “Tissue me.” Jane handed her the box, and Sutton pulled out a couple of tissues to blow her nose.
“I wish Ben was a little more like Richard about my cold,” said Jane. “Like… tender, you know? I mean, it’s not that he doesn’t care, but… He’s just so medical about it. It’s all about ‘fluid intake’ and ‘simple respiratory infection’ and ‘healthy people recover from colds in a few days,’ yada-yada-yada. I get it, I know I’m not going to die from this, and he’s dealing with actual serious issues at the hospital, but a little more fussing would be nice.”
Kat laughed. “Jane the Queen of Denial now wants people to fuss about her cold. You are one contradicting woman.”
Jane grabbed the closest clothing item lying on the ground—a beret—and threw it at Kat.
“No but I get it,” said Sutton. “Honestly, I thought I was going to burst into flames when Richard touched my forehead. The way he looked at me, the way he touched me. I felt important and cared for. And he didn’t even care that I look repulsive.” She buried her face in her hands. “I’m so confused. He has a girlfriend. I already made up my mind. What am I going to do?”
Kat stroked her hair. “Well, first you need to get better.” She looked around the closet, balls of tissues littering the ground around the two girls, almost like a chalk silhouette in a murder scene. “And then we need to call the CDC and have them decontaminate this room. Or just… burn it down.”
“I don’t even know why you’re hanging out so close to us,” said Jane, clearing her throat. “You’ll end up catching it, super immune system or not.”
“Nope, not gonna catch it. Still no signs of it.”
Sutton gasped. “Don’t jinx it! You have a date tonight.”
Kat smiled. “I’ll be fine. You worry about yourself.”
~~~
Later that evening, while Jane finished up the first draft of her article, someone knocked at the door. She tightened the blanket around herself and shuffled to the door, ignoring the mess that had become her apartment. The area around her couch was littered with dried-up tea bags in empty mugs, piles of magazines opened at random pages, take-out boxes filled with cold noodles. And tissues. Tissues everywhere.
When she opened the door, she let out a small gasp.
It was Pinstripe.
Of all the people Jane had expected to see standing there, Pinstripe hadn’t even crossed her mind. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d set foot in her apartment. Probably the very last… “fun time” they’d had. God, how long ago was that?
“Sloan,” Pinstripe said, almost as surprised to see her in this state as she was of seeing him on her doorstep. Jane now wished she’d had checked the peephole before opening the door. Maybe she’d have tried to look more presentable.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, the wintery wind drifting in from outside making her shiver.
“May I come in?” He took in her small, shaking body. “You shouldn’t be standing in the doorway like this. I wouldn’t want you to get worse.”
Jane stepped aside, letting Pinstripe walk in. He made sure to close the door behind him. “I asked Kat if you were doing better today and she said you’d gotten worse.” He gave her a sad smile. “Sorry you’re not feeling well.”
“Don’t come too close,” warned Jane, shuffling back to the couch and crumpling back on it. “You don’t want to catch this.”
“I’ll take my chances,” said Pinstripe with a grin. He walked over to the couch and sat down next to Jane, putting a grocery bag he’d been carrying on the ground between his legs. Jane cracked a smile as he looked around, obviously trying very hard not to mention how messy the place was.
“So you just came to check up on me?” mused Jane. “I guess you do have soft side after all.” A fresh tickle grew in her nose. Knowing better than to try to fight it, she leaned over the coffee table and grabbed a few tissues. “Hold on… I gotta—Ehh’TSCHhhheew!”
“Bless you.”
“IHh’TSCHHhheew” Jane groaned.
“Bless you again.” Pinstripe looked at her, a mix of concern and mischievousness in his eyes. “And apparently you have a vulnerable side after all. I guess we’re both full of surprises.”
“What’s in there?” Jane pointed at the grocery bag.
“Oh. I wanted to get something to make you feel better but…” He took out a gallon of apple juice and three chocolate bars.
Jane laughed. “So you have no idea how to shop for sick people.”
“Look, I knew you’d be covered medicine-wise since you’re dating a doctor. And you can never have too much chocolate.” He eyed the apple juice. “The juice was just a panic move.” He looked around the apartment. “Is Sutton not home?”
Jane shook her head, wiping her nose with a tissue. “She’s still at work, the poor thing.”
“Look who’s talking. You’re the poor thing,” he teased, but his face grew serious as he examined her. “You’re all flushed,” he mumbled, almost to himself. “Do you have a fever?” Pinstripe slid closer to Jane and put the back of his fingers against her cheek. His brow furrowed, and he moved his hand to the other cheek.
Jane’s insides instantly lit on fire. So this was the spark Sutton had talked about. She felt the coolness of his hand against her burning skin, electricity buzzing from his touch to the tip of her toes and back. Pinstripe stopped moving his hand and kept it on her cheek, looking deep into her eyes. Time slowed down, the air thick with desire.
After what seemed like an eternity, a tickle deep in Jane’s sinuses shook her out of her trance. She wiggled her nose as her mouth fell open. The sneeze progressed as fast as lightning, and Jane barely had enough time to move away from Pinstripe to sneeze into her blanket. “Ehh—TSCHhheew!”
Pinstripe chuckled, letting his hand fall on his lap. “Bless you, Jane.” He looked around, dazed, as if he had also been enraptured in the moment. “I should probably go and… let you rest.” He got up, a hint of awkwardness to his movements, and walked back to the door. “Call me if you need anything, alright?”
Jane nodded. “Thank you for the chocolate. And the apple juice.”
Pinstripe grinned. “Feel better soon.”
~~~
Kat sat on Cammy’s bed, biting her bottom lip. Cammy laid seductively against the pillows, all curves and luscious hair. She was gorgeous. Things had gotten steamy very quickly at the bar where they’d agreed to meet after work. It hadn’t been long before Cammy had invited Kat to her apartment.
It was to be expected—the dates were, after all, only meant to be sexual. She wasn’t looking for a loving relationship. She already had that with Adena.
Kat closed her eyes. Thinking of Adena while making out with another girl was against her rule. It made her incredibly uncomfortable, no matter how many times she reminded herself that Adena had been the one to propose an open relationship.
“Everything OK?” asked Cammy.
Kat nodded. She rolled her shoulders, trying to relax, then resumed kissing her date. Cammy smelled divine, a mix of jasmine and woody, earthy notes. But somehow, something felt off. Kat tried her best to be in the moment and enjoy it, but truth be told, she just wasn’t.
Fatigue had hit her like a ton of bricks towards the late afternoon. It had been a whirlwind of a day at work, with tons of meetings and social media storms. Still, Kat wasn’t usually this tired even after the craziest days.
Cammy grabbed the back of Kat’s head and tried to pull her down, but Kat resisted.
Cammy broke off the kiss, confused. “What’s wrong?”
Kat shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just not—" Suddenly, a tickle bloomed in her nose. She sniffed, trying to get rid of it, but it only grew stronger. She gasped and covered her nose with both hands. “EHP’TSChhooo!”
Kat sat on the bed, shocked. She almost never sneezed.
She gasped again, the tickle returning with a white-hot vengeance. “IHP’TSCHhooo!”
She especially never sneezed twice in a row.
“Bless you,” Cammy said, not quite understanding what was happening.
“Oh no,” Kat said with a short laugh.
“What?”
Kat swallowed, testing her throat. Sure enough, there it was. A scratchiness that she hadn’t noticed. And a small headache threatening to grow behind her eyes. The signs had been there most of the afternoon, but Kat hadn’t paid attention to them.
She sniffled, her nose now runny, as if the sneezes had officially unleashed the virus.
“I think I caught a cold.”
~~~
Kat knocked on Jane’s door, shivering in the cold night. When the door opened, Jane greeted her in her trusty blanket.
“I thought you had a date?” Jane said, moving aside to let Kat in.
Kat looked around the place, wondering if a tornado had landed in there. Sutton laid on the couch with a thermometer in her mouth. This was the very picture of Kat’s near future. Soon, she would be the one with a thermometer in her mouth. She was not looking forward to it.
“Is something wrong?” asked Jane, concerned.
“I caught your cold,” said Kat in disbelief.
“You did?!” said Sutton, taking the thermometer out of her mouth.
“Sutton! Keep it in your mouth until it beeps!” scolded Jane.
Sutton made a face, but put the thermometer back in her mouth.
“And you,” Jane said to Kat, “come in here.” She opened her blanket wide, and Kat nestled in there, rearranging it so that they both could fit in spite of their significant height difference. They shuffled awkwardly to the couch and joined Sutton.
“Are you sure you caught it?” asked Jane.
Kat nodded, unable to answer as a tickle took over. She gasped and crumpled down on her lap. “EHHP’TSChhooo!”
“Never mind,” said Jane, laughing. “Welcome to the club. It’s miserable.”
The thermometer beeped and Sutton took it out. “At least we’ve got each other.”
Kat smiled. That was the reason why she’d come straight to Jane’s apartment after apologizing to Cammy and running off. She knew she could always count on her friends to be there for her, in sickness and in health.
She grabbed the box of tissues, peering into it. “We might run out of tissues.”
Jane shook her head. “No worries. If we need more, Pinstripe will deliver.”
Kat looked at her, confused.
“I’ll tell you all about it, but first, we need to decide who’s going to make tea.”
“Not me, I still have a fever,” Sutton said, pouting as she read the thermometer.
“And I’m new to this whole ‘being sick’ thing,” said Kat, exaggerating the sad eyes.
Jane rolled her eyes and got up. “Fine, I’ll do it.”
Kat stretched out over Jane’s spot, making herself comfortable. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad after all. “Guys, we should all call in sick tomorrow and do a movie marathon.”
“I’m definitely calling in sick tomorrow,” said Jane from the kitchen. “I’m in.”
Kat looked expectantly at Sutton. “Come on Sutton, you know you can’t keep going to work like this.”
“It could be arranged,” said Sutton. “Oliver told me to stay home tomorrow if I don’t feel well. He said he’d rather be without me for a day than without everyone else in the team because I infected them all.” She smiled. “I think he meant that he wanted me to rest because he cares about me.”
Kat laughed. “If that’s what you got from it, sure.” She did a little dance. “Yay, movie marathon tomorrow! We haven’t done that in ages. Oooh we can rewatch all the Harry Potter movies!”
Sutton scoffed. “Leave it to Kat to find joy in being sick.”
Jane brought out a tray with three mugs. Kat managed to push around part of the mess on the coffee table to make room for it. Each girl grabbed a cup.
“To feeling like crap,” said Jane, lifting her mug in the air.
“To losing our voice,” added Sutton, raising her own tea.
“And sneezing our asses off,” said Kat.
The three clung their mugs together, and the air filled with honey-lemon scented laughter.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Summary:
On a random night, Penelope is visited by someone she did not expect would want to see her after all the revelation that had happened. And she most certainly did not expected to be cared for by the same visitor while she suffered one of the most painful nights of her courses.
OR the regency Polin period sex / sick fic I promised myself i would write lol
LOVE U LIKE THAT (body on my mind like all night long)
[COMPLETED]
A 4-part body worship / wound-tending modern #polin #Bridgerton fanfic
Based and titled on the song Love U Like That by Lauv 💜
SUMMARY:
Penelope opens up her flat’s door to a disheveled and heavily panting Colin Bridgerton who apparently got in a bar brawl against her boyfriend after the unsavory things he said about her in his drunken stupor.
She should fix him up and send him packing. Right, just the rightful thing to do. Except that a bruised-from-fighting-for-her-honor Colin was something that had stoked some inner kindling inside her. Alone with him in her apartment in the middle of the night while she tended to his scraped and wounded, but hard, tight and toned torso….she should be fine right?
----
The wound-tending, body worship Polin shortfic nobody is really writing so I went ahead and did one myself lol
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
After writing (and never finishing, sorry!) a sickfic with Y/ennefer, I've been toying with the idea of doing one with T/riss. This particular scene popped into my head a few weeks ago and never left, so I had to write it down. It's got whump, high fever, care-taking, denial and a few snz.
Note: This is from the W/itcher 3 video game, not the show, when G/eralt gets to N/ovigrad and meets up with T/riss as she's trying to get mages out of the city during a witch hunt.
A Healer's Guilt
G/eralt was busy sharpening his blade when a knock at the door shattered his focus. His hand faltered, causing the stone to tumble to the floor. With a muttered curse, he tightened his grip on the knife and glanced towards the source of the interruption.
The dancing orange flames of the fireplace illuminated the room, casting flickering shadows across the peeling walls. Geralt's gaze settled on the dagger he had been working on, its razor-sharp edge reflecting the fiery glow. He shuddered at the thought of what could have been had the knife slipped from his grasp and sliced through his skin.
Another knock echoed through the room, this one more forceful than the last. The wooden door rattled on its hinges, the rusty metal protesting against the strain. Geralt rose from the tattered chair he had dragged close to the fireplace, the only source of warmth in the freezing room.
Though only a select few knew of his presence in Novigrad, witchers could never truly remain anonymous in a city. Rumors of their presence spread like the flu, met with a swirling mix of disdain and apprehension.
Geralt knew better than to let his guard down.
He opened the door, feeling the weight of the knife in his hand, ready to strike. But his vigilance wavered as he caught sight of a woman standing in the pouring rain, shivering. It took him a few moments to recognize her in the darkness. The rain had transformed her once fiery-red locks into a dull and lifeless tangle, sticking to her skin like a shroud. Her pale face was emotionless, almost hollow.
“Triss,” Geralt said, lowering his knife.
“I need your help.” Triss barged through the door, forcing the witcher to step aside. Her cloak left a trail of water on the rotting floorboards. “Six of our mages were caught by witch hunters last night during a raid.” She spun on her heels, facing Geralt. “That bastard, Kerath. He promised us we would be safe in his mill. We paid him handsomely, yet he still turned us in. We can’t trust anyone in this godforsaken city.”
Rivulets still dotted her face, droplets accumulating at the tip of her cupid’s bow, but she paid it no mind. She turned and paced the small room. Her velvety green dress, soaked with water, clung heavily to her body.
Geralt took a step towards her. “Slow down.”
“There’s no time to slow down. We have to act fast. Amalaine overheard a conversation between the guards this morning. The mages might be held in the dungeon of a castle to the east.”
Geralt frowned. Anger weighted every one of Triss’ words like lead, but something else caught the witcher’s attention. A soft hoarseness, a slight creak at the end of each sound, as if the words kept getting caught in the jagged pains of her throat.
“Triss…”
“If we leave now, we can make it before sunup. I’ll gather a group of mages to help. Whoever isn’t injured.”
She came to a halt in front of the fireplace, arms crossed tightly over her chest. A small tremble shook her frame, so subtle that anyone else in the room might have missed it. But not Geralt. His keen, golden eyes were fixed on her, studying her every move.
"You're shivering,” he growled. He didn’t like to see Triss hurt, and she never seemed to cared for her own health, always pushing through the pain and exhaustion. A healer that strived to heal everyone but herself. Geralt approached her with the intention of removing his cloak and draping it around her shoulders, but she resumed her nervous pacing before he could follow through.
“We’ll need to steal some horses,” she muttered. “We only have three left, but the inn’s stable is full tonight. Some of us may have to ride bareback if we can’t find enough saddles in time.”
Geralt's concern deepened as he watched her. Her steps were heavy, slightly unsteady, as if she was on the verge of collapse. “Triss.” He spoke louder this time, worry turning into frustration. “Sit down.”
She shook her head and walked past him. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have trusted that vile, wretched human. I knew he was untrustworthy, but I was so desperate to find a safe haven that I refused to listen to my instincts.”
Geralt reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, his palm resting against the damp, icy fabric of her cloak. He could only imagine how cold she must be under all those wet clothes. With a gentle hand, he turned her to face him. Her eyes met his, brimming with fear and guilt. The light of the fireplace danced across her sullen features, casting her in a flickering glow.
Geralt softened. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Triss looked away. A flush had crept up high on her cheeks. Her eyes were glazed over, shiny in a dull, aching way that Geralt didn’t like. A fever. He let out a low growl of frustration. “You’re not well,” he said, reaching his palm towards her cheek, but she shrugged him off and kept walking.
“I’m fine, Geralt,” she insisted. “It’s just the rain. We need to…” Her voice faltered as she gasped sharply. A sudden sneeze wracked her body, and she crumpled in on herself, her hand reaching out towards the wall to find balance.
Geralt moved swiftly to her side, wrapping his strong arms around her waist to steady her. "Easy now," he said in a low, soothing voice. Her body shook in his embrace with another breathless, exhausted sneeze, muffled in her cupped hands against Geralt’s chest. The witcher tightened his grip and sighed. “You’re not fine.”
He guided her towards the chair and draped his cloak around her shoulders. She began shivering violently, her shoulder slumping, as if the weight of her illness had finally caught up to her and she could no longer pretend to be fine.
Kneeling in front of her, Geralt rubbed her arms to warm her up. "You need to rest,” he said, his gruff voice filled with concern. Of all the years he’d known her, he’d never seen her so vulnerable. So sick.
Triss shook her head stubbornly, her tear-filled eyes pleading with him. "I have to help them," she whispered, her voice raw with emotion. "Please."
Geralt shook his head slowly. “You can’t help anyone in this state.”
Triss collapsed into Geralt's arms, sobbing, and he held her tightly. An intense heat emanated from her forehead against his shoulder. He placed a hand at the nape of her neck, then gently moved her back to feel her cheek, his eyes searching her tear-stained face as he moved to her forehead.
“You’re burning up.”
She closed her eyes against the tears and sniffled. Her nose scrunched up, and her sobs turned into a slowly hitching breath. She tilted her head towards the ceiling, her eyes still closed. Geralt noticed the redness of her nose before she buried it into his cloak. Suddenly, she sneezed three times in quick succession, the sound so small and fragile it was almost unrecognizable coming from the powerful mage he knew so well.
“Blessings,” he murmured.
He scooped her up in his arms and laid her on the cot in the corner of the room, where he’d piled fur upon fur to make his bed more comfortable. He removed his cloak from her shoulders and unfastened hers. “I can’t leave you in these wet clothes,” he mumbled. “You’re only going to get worse.”
Triss nodded. Geralt began to disrobe her, carefully peeling away each saturated layer until her body was exposed to the cool, damp air. She whimpered, her skin hot and feverish, her body wracked with shivers as she struggled to adjust to the abrupt shift in temperature.
Geralt's heart ached at the sight of her, his eyebrows creased in sympathy. He slipped one if his clean shirt over her head, then laid her down on the bed and tucked her under the furs. He wished he could give her one of his potions to make her feel better, but he knew she was allergic. She would have to ride the illness through. His rough fingers brushed the hair away from her forehead, trailing over her cheeks. “Now sleep.”
“What about the mages?” Triss said, her teeth still chattering.
Geralt chuckled. “You’re the only one I know that still cares about others in the throes of a fever.” He sighed. “Rest here. I’ll take care of it.”
He got up and put his cloak on, then headed for the door.
“Geralt?” Triss called out weakly from the bed.
The witcher turned around. “Hmm?”
“You’re the only one I know who would help me. Thank you.”
He tipped his head in acknowledgment. "Sleep," he said gently. "I'll be back soon."
Friday Night Fever (F/M, Original, Illness Care-Taking Fluff)
Wrote this little original F/M care-taking fluff fic inspired by something that happened to me when I was in college (basically, caught a cold, three friends came over unannounced and insisted on me coming with them to the bar until one of them noticed the thermometer on my nightstand and realized I really was too sick to go). I've changed all the characters personality/appearance (including myself) so that we are completely unrecognizable, and added more to the story of course 😚
So if you like group of friends, platonic to maybe romantic care-taking fluff and F/M illness, read on!
Annabel left the sandwich shop at the end of her evening shift, feeling the cold autumn air seep through her jacket. Darkness had blanketed the town hours ago, and college students were already filling the streets on their way to the bars to celebrate the end of the week. Not that they’d really needed a reason to drink, of course.
As she launched the trash bags in the large dumpster in the back alley, Annabel felt an uncomfortable shiver running down her back. She’d been feeling under the weather for a couple of days, downing vitamin C fizzy drinks to stave it off. What she’d hoped would end up being a little annoying cold was turning out to be more than she’d bargained for. She could feel the icy tendrils of a fever crawling on her skin, and all she wanted to do was slip under the covers of her warm bed and sleep all weekend.
Her phone pinged as she started making her way back to her apartment.
Finn: We’ll be there in 40 minutes. Zack wants to pick up some pregame vodka from the store first.
Annabel sighed. She’d met Zack, Finn and Alex at her second job—a fancy new restaurant in the heart of town where she’d been waitressing part-time for the past two months. They’d hit it off on opening day, when Zack had accidentally broken a whole stack of plates. No one had seen what had happened but the four of them. Zack had gotten his dishwasher’s apron stuck on the door handle, and his hands had slipped at the sudden pull.
The crash had been deafening.
Right before the owner had rushed in to ask what had happened, Zack’s best friend, Finn, had kicked the wheel of the cart where the plates had been sitting a few moments ago, giving Alexander and Annabel a knowing look.
They’d all told the owner that the cart was broken and had tipped over without anyone touching it. Somehow, the owner had bought the lie. That night, Zack insisted on paying them a round of shots at the bar, and a tradition was born: The four of them. Every Friday. With lots of alcohol.
It was the only time Annabel let loose. With her two jobs and college, she was struggling to find free time, but Friday nights had become sacred. There was nothing like downing drinks and letting the buzz take over, following her three new friends wherever they wanted to go. It was always an adventure. Especially with Zack at the helm.
But tonight, there was no way she could make it.
Annabel: Actually, I can’t come tonight. Sorry.
She walked past a group of friends laughing and hollering, wishing she’d felt as good as they did. But the headache growing behind her eyes wasn’t going to let up, and adding alcohol to the mix would only make it worse. Not only that, but her nose had started running in the past two hours. She’d had to go blow it in the restroom every half hour, getting herself banished from the front of the store by the manager. She’d washed her hands so often that her skin was almost raw.
Just like her nose.
Finn: Nah, you’re coming. Nobody cancels Friday night. Come on.
Annabel couldn’t hold a smile. She typed back, sniffling. Her sinuses were prickling like crazy, as if she’d accidentally inhaled a cloud of tiny fireworks. She stifled a sneeze in the crook of her elbow, mid-word. “Ehh—Ehh’KSHHeeww!” Her eyes watered from the force of it. She wiped the tears away and resumed typing.
Annabel: I’ll make it up to you guys next weekend. Drinks on me.
She grabbed a crumpled tissue from her jacket pocket and dabbed at her nose. Her apartment was only a few blocks away, beckoning her. As she crossed the last stretch of sidewalk to the entrance, she kept checking her phone.
No reply.
Shrugging, she unlocked the front door and took the stairs.
***
Back in her apartment, she made a beeline for the bathroom to the right and used toilet paper to blow her nose, finally free to make as much noise as she wanted. She winced from the roughness of it on her chapped nostrils, but it was all she had. She wasn’t exactly the planning type. Her idea of a grocery list was memorizing the first three items and hoping the rest would come to her as she walked through the aisles. Most often than not, she’d have to make a quick run at the convenience store down the street to get what she’d forgotten.
She gathered her thick curly hair into a bun and looked at herself in the mirror. It was enough to confirm that she’d made the right decision. Her eyes were glazed over, her skin was so pale that her freckles popped like they did in the summer. Except for that slight flush high on her cheeks, of course. She popped a thermometer under her tongue and removed her work clothes, leaving them in a pile in front of the bathtub.
Shivering from the sudden change in temperature, she covered her arms with her hands and ran to her dresser. Her warmest, softest sweater was the first thing she grabbed and put on, before throwing on a pair of comfy leggings and wool socks. The thermometer beeped.
100.8 °F. Figured.
She rolled her eyes and shuffled over to the “kitchen” of her studio apartment, which was the size of a matchbox and only contained a mini fridge, a microwave and an old sink. She poured herself some water and walked over to the bed, placing her glass and the thermometer on her nightstand. She would have brought over medicine as well, but she’d run out last semester after catching the flu going around campus, and had forgotten to replenish her stash. No matter. She could sleep this off. It was just a cold.
She suddenly sneezed twice in a row, as if her body wanted to protest her minimizing her illness, then got under the cover. Just as she was getting a little warmer, propping up her laptop to watch a movie, there was a knock at the door.
Annabel sat up, startled.
“Anna, open up!” a voice said behind the door.
Zack.
Annabel chuckled. Of course they wouldn’t give up that easily. She groaned, getting out of the warmth of her bed. She considered rushing to the dresser and putting on cuter clothes—they were her friends, but they were still boys, and she didn’t want to look like shit in front of them—but the thought of it was enough to drain her energy. Screw it. She walked over to the door and opened it.
“Finn told us you don’t want to come,” said Zack as he walked in. It was her friends’ first time coming up to her apartment. They’d usually wait for her downstairs. “So we’re here to change your mind.” He didn’t look at her, too busy checking out her place. He was dressed for the night—a buttoned-up shirt, navy blazer, jeans and dress shoes. His casual chic style always stood out in the local bars filled with broke college students, but he liked it that way.
Finn walked in after him, a crooked grin on his lips. “See, I told you you can’t cancel Friday night.” His shaggy blond hair half-covered his eyes, as always. Finn and Zack had been best friends since high school, and couldn’t have been more different from each other. At least physically. Finn was tall and lanky, Zack was smaller and worked out a lot. But they were both party guys, always ready for a crazy night—even though Finn was a bit more mellow than Zack.
Finally, Alex came in, and Annabel closed the door behind him. He had a sheepish look on his face, as if apologizing for the other two. He was a lot more like Annabel. Quiet, chill, along for the ride—whatever it may be. His deep brown eyes held her gaze for a second too long, and Annabel noticed one of his eyebrow raise ever so slightly. She bit her lip, feeling self-conscious about her appearance. They’d never seen her in such a state before. Thank god she hadn’t had the energy to remove her makeup yet.
“So this is where you live, uh?” Zack said, sitting on her desk chair and spinning it around and around. “I like it. Dorms suck.”
Before she could reply, Finn tsked. “Wow. So no love for your roommate, uh?”
“Dude, I love you,” Zack said, “but between you and an apartment all to myself, the choice is obvious.” He stopped spinning and turned to Annabel, crossing his arms over his chest. “So what’s so important that you can’t come with us? Do you have a date?”
All three boys turned to her. Annabel almost laughed. Could they not see the condition she was in? She cleared her throat. “No, I’m just not feeling well.”
Finn sat on the edge of her bed and examined her from afar. “Like what? Stomach thing? Flu?”
“Probably a cold, I guess.” Annabel could feel Alex’s gaze on her at her side. She glanced at him, then looked down, feeling silly. Now that she was saying it out loud, it sounded like a poor excuse. But she did have a fever, after all. She just didn’t want to start listing her symptoms.
Zack clasped his hands together. “You know what will make you feel better? Alcohol!” He grinned, as if proud of his solution. “Didn’t they used to give brandy to people when they were sick? We’ll make a special mix for your throat. Something with lemon and orange juice. You’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know, I already have a headache…” Annabel said.
“Just take a couple of Tylenol. It’s like a hangover in advance,” Finn said with an encouraging smile. “One time, I went out clubbing with an ear infection and everything was fine. Actually felt better the next day, weirdly enough.”
“I don’t know guys, I won’t be much fun if—” Annabel was interrupted by a fierce tickle deep in her nose, spreading like wildfire. She ducked to her side, away from Alex. “Ehh’KSSHeeew! ‘KSSSHeeew!”
“Bless you,” the three boys said almost in unison.
“See?” Annabel said, pointing at her nose and sniffling. “You want me to sneeze all over you guys all night?”
Finn shrugged. “We’ll bring tissues. Whatever.”
Alex walked over to the bathroom and grabbed the toilet paper roll from the counter, then handed it to her. “Here.”
Annabel ripped a piece off and wiped her nose. “Thanks,” she said, sheepish.
Alex’s gaze paused on her for a few seconds before he turned to the other two. “Guys, she’s obviously sick. Let’s just go and let her sleep.”
“It’s just a cold,” Zack said. “She’s young and healthy. It’s nothing.” He got up and put his arm around her shoulders. “Come on. Give it an hour, and if you’re not feeling better after a few shots, we’ll walk you home.”
Annabel considered it for a second, trying to fight the shivers. Maybe if she wore something warm and took a few shots, she wouldfeel better. Numb the pain a little, at least. While she pondered it, Finn laid down on top of her bed spread and locked eyes with the thermometer on her nightstand. He frowned and sat up, picking it up.
He looked at her, thermometer in hand. His voice softened. “It’s that bad, uh?”
Annabel blushed. Why did admitting that she had a fever feel so vulnerable? She looked down and nodded. “Kinda.”
Zack looked at the thermometer, then back at Annabel. He narrowed his eyes and put a hand on her forehead. “Ooof,” he said, a hint of concern slipping in his tone.
Finn got up. “Let me see,” he said, walking up to her and placing his own hand on her forehead. His eyebrows shot up. “Yikes.”
“Yeah, you need to be in bed,” Zack finally said, guiding her back to bed. “Why didn’t you say you had a fever? Jesus, Anna.”
She shrugged, sitting on her mattress. “I don’t know. I just get fevers with colds. I guess it’s normal for me.”
“Fevers suck,” Finn said. “Last time I had one, I stayed in bed for two days and everything hurt.” He walked over to the front door. “We’ll miss you tonight, though.”
Zack followed. “Hope you feel better. We’ll text you all the crazy shit that’s going to happen so you don’t miss anything.” He followed Finn out of the apartment, leaving the door open for Alex.
Alex watched them walk by, then grabbed the roll of toilet paper on the counter where Annabel had left it. He brought it over to her nightstand and gave her a sad smile. “Do you need anything?”
Annabel shook her head, relieved that she was going to be able to stay in bed. “I’ll be okay.”
He seemed to hesitate for a second, then nodded. “Let us know if you want us to get you food later. I know I can never sleep when I have a fever.”
“Thank you.” She smiled. Her nose scrunched up, overtaken by another annoying prickle. “Ehh… Iihh’KSSSHHeeww!”
“Bless you.”
Zack’s voice sounded from the hallway. “Alex, you coming?”
Alex snickered. “I guess I should go.” He walked to the door, then turned back. “Feel better, okay?”
“I will. Thanks.”
***
Annabel tried to sleep, but her fever and runny nose kept waking her up, leaving her floating halfway between dreams and reality. It was clear that she wasn’t going to get any rest in her state. She needed cold medicine.
It took her a long time to finally convince herself to get out of bed and go to the convenience store, but she managed to push the covers away and get up. She shivered, causing another tickle in her sensitive nose—it had only gotten worse in the hour since the boys had left. She ducked at the waist in an exhausting triple. “Ehh… Hehh’KSSSHeeeew! ‘KSSHHeeew! Hiihh’KSSHeeew!”
Just then, another knock sounded at the door. Annabel frowned and made her way to the door, cracking it open.
It was Alex. Alone.
“Bless you,” he said with a shy grin.
Annabel let him in. “Aren’t you supposed to be out with the guys?”
He shrugged, closing the door behind him. “I thought you might need this.” He showed her a plastic bag filled with tea, tissue boxes, ramen, cough drops and—she gasped—cold medicine.
Alex chuckled. “So I was right. You don’t have any medicine, do you?”
Annabel laughed. “How did you know?”
“Your nightstand. You only had a thermometer on there. When I’m sick, I take Nyquil everywhere I go.” He handed her the bag. “And I wanted to make sure you had tissues instead of toilet paper. Your nose will thank me.”
Annabel touched her chapped nose, smiling. “That’s so sweet of you. Thank you.”
“It’s nothing.” He stood there for a second, as if not knowing what to say. “I’ll uh—I’ll let you rest.”
Before he could go, Annabel put her hand on his elbow. “Wait. Do you want to—” She stopped halfway through her sentence, her nose scrunching up yet again, her eyes fluttering. She spun around and sneezed, covering her nose with the sleeve of her sweater. “Hehh’KSSHH! Ht’Ksshht!” She turned back around, blinking away the tears and laughing. “Sorry!”
Alex laughed, too. “Bless you.” He held her gaze, then looked down. “What were you going to say?”
“Oh—I was just wondering if—maybe if you’d like to watch a movie with me. I don’t think I can sleep until the medicine kicks in.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted saying them. Of course he didn’t want to watch a movie with her. This was Friday night. What kind of college guy wanted to hang out with a sick, sneezy, nose-drippy girl on a Friday night instead of getting drunk with his friends. “Sorry,” she added quickly, “I forgot that the guys are probably waiting for you. I guess I’m kind of loopy from the fever.”
Alex took a step forward and placed his hand on her forehead. The gesture was so gentle, so soft, that Annabel closed her eyes, appreciating the coldness of his palm on her hot skin.
“You are definitely burning up,” he half-whispered, frowning. “I was wondering if the guys were exaggerating. Guess not.”
Annabel bit her lip. “I’ll be okay after I take the medicine. You don’t have to stay.”
Alex removed his hand. “I do,” he blurted. “I mean, I do want to watch a movie with you. And stay.”
“Are you sure?” Annabel asked through her blossoming smile. “Aren’t you worried you’ll catch my cold?”
“Actually, I have a confession to make.” Alex led her to the bed and placed the content of his bag on her nightstand. “Last Friday, I kind of had a cold. It wasn’t as bad as yours, pretty minor, but… Zack convinced me to come out anyway and I—I think I might have given it to you. You drank out of my glass and I didn’t have time to stop you.” He looked at her, his eyes wide with guilt. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Annabel laughed. “I can’t believe Zack didn’t rat you out earlier. It would have been the perfect example of someone going clubbing with a cold and ‘being fine’ anyway.”
“He probably knew it was partly his fault that you’re sick and didn’t want to admit it.”
Annabel shook her head. “Well, you owe me a Friday night.” She got into bed and patted the spot next to her. “That means I get to pick the movies.”
Alex grabbed the throw blanket at her feet and draped it over her. “That sounds fair.” He walked over to the other side of the bed and settled next to her. “But when you fall asleep, I can’t guarantee I won’t change it.”
“Deal.”
After taking a dose of Nyquil, Annabel started the movie, snuggling under the blanket. She wondered what kind of crazy adventures Zack and Finn were getting themselves into. She expected to feel FOMO, but instead, she shot a glance at Alex next to her, and realized she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
Maybe it was the fever, or maybe it was Alex’s shoulder touching hers, but it felt like this was the start of a different kind of adventure. Maybe not alcohol-fueled, but Nyquil was pretty close.
All because they’d shared a not-so-secret cold.
And Annabel had a feeling it would be worth the fever. And the countless sneezes to come.