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oh-no-my-hand-slipped · 14 days

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An Adventurer’s Cold

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An original fic commissioned anonymously

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Subject: Original Characters By Author

Length: 3,998 Words

Genre: Denial, RPG, Contagion, Stuck Sneeze

Rating: E for Everyone

CW/TW: Slight Food Description, Mild Blood

*********************************

You have entered MARLINE’S MAGIC SHOP.

“Snf…welcobe back, traveler.”

Marline took a worn handkerchief out of her front apron pocket, blowing her nose mightily. She sniffled, leaning against the old oak counter she stood behind.

“Whad can I interest you in today?”

Terra, only half listening, looked at the many mystical items lining the shelves. Dragon’s heart, succubus horns, even a small jar filled with pixie wings for one silver piece each. Not a bad price, considering how hard pixies were to catch.

However, she didn’t have time for browsing today.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a bronze kobold fang, would ya?” she asked, looking through a green eyepiece at the tired shopkeeper.

Marline smiled. “You took thad request for the rabid fairies, I take it?”

“Yep! They’re some nasty critters, but we’ve got a potion that should stun ‘em -”

“Hah-! hhhhp’TSHIEW!”

Marline bent over the counter, her long red hair spilling over her face. She groaned, taking her handkerchief out again. Terra lowered the eyepiece.

“Good health, Mar. Though it sounds like it’s a little late for that.”

Marline blew her nose with a loud honk. “I was bushroom hunting during a rainy spell ereyesterday - snf! I believe I bay have lived to regret it.”

“I’ll say,” Terra said, frowning. “Have any faeleaf? It doesn’t taste great, but it’ll set you right again.”

“Not this week, I’b afraid. I wasn’d the only one who fell ill after the storm. I would harvest sobe byself, bud I…hih! hhh’PTCHIIEW!”

“Hey, no worries!”

Terra reached into her traveling bag and pulled out a small, bitter-smelling burlap pouch.

“I always keep some with me for emergencies.”

Marline shook her head. “You busn’t – hih’PSHIEW!”

Terra set the bag on the counter.

“Listen, if anybody has an emergency, it’s what you’ve got. Besides, I haven’t caught a cold since I was a kid! I don’t think I’m going to start getting one now.”

Marline gave a knowing smile, but took the herbs with no more opposition.

“Stday in good health, kind traveler,” was all she said before stuffing her handkerchief back into her apron pocket.

“I will!” Terra replied, not noticing Marline’s expression. “The spirit of adventure will keep me warm! And a little mead, if I can get it.”

Terra chuckled, and turned on her heel to leave.

“Ah! Your kobold fang!” Marline called after her.

Terra spun around again, putting her hand on her forehead.

“If my bow wasn’t on my back, I’d forget that too,” she said, reaching for her belt. “Let me just get my coin purse, and I’ll -”

Marline shook her head. “No, no, dear traveler, please. Your kindness has been paybent edough.”

She reached into her apron, pulling out a sharp, yellow tooth with a purple tint at the crown. She held it out to the adventurer.

“Don’t mention it,” Terra said, accepting the tooth.

Suddenly, Marline’s handkerchief was retrieved again, and she sneezed into it yet again, sniffling with a quiet groan. Terra suddenly realized that the tooth must have been next to the shopkeeper’s many handkerchiefs throughout the day. That would explain its uncharacteristic shine.

She shrugged, putting the tooth into her satchel. She’d touched worse bodily fluids.

KOBOLD TOOTH is now in your inventory.

“Get some rest, Marline!” Terra called behind her as she left.

“I shall,” Marline said wearily. “Fare thee we-heh! hhhh’PCHIEW!”

**************************************

You have entered the DARK FOREST.

“I believe this is the place, if my master’s geography is correct,” Vin said, peering at a dusty, yellowed scroll. “Though the topography may have changed since he made it.”

“Eh, how much can a bunch of rocks move?” Terra said. She squinted above her, checking the branches of the surrounding trees for glittering wings or beady eyes between the leaves.

Vin adjusted their glasses with a mechanism on the side of the hinge. “Quite a bit, actually. Earthquakes, battles, magical events, even the migration of animals can-”

ENERGY has decreased. You are now FATIGUED.

Terra yawned, rubbing her suddenly burning eyes. Vin scowled.

“You can at least pretend to be interested.”

Terra started. “Huh?”

“We have been walkin’ for a while,” Norif said, hoping to placate the scholar. “We ought to set up camp – it’s gettin’ dark anyway.”

Vin hmphed, but didn’t have any objection.

Suddenly, Terra noticed that there weren't as many sounds of footsteps as there were before. Her worn brogues, Norif’s dwarvish leather boots, Vin’s cork soles…

Terra turned around.

Frederick had completely stopped, and was looking up at the sky, which had just begun to show the pinpricks of summer stars. His wide, moonish eyes stared, unmoving. Then, with a slow motion, he lifted a thin arm and pointed a finger to the trees, his other hand moving inside his cloak. Terra instinctively rubbed her hands together, preparing her magic.

The others soon followed suit, grabbing their own weapons and standing at the ready.

Their preparedness paid off, as, before the party knew it, a swarm of angry fairies descended upon them, snarling and screeching.

Norif swung his ax at the creatures, taking large clouds of them with a single blow. Vin, with a scraping of iron, loaded their crossbow, the many cogs and mechanisms firing the arrows directly into each fairy heart. A thin rope attached to every arrow jerked them back into place with a satisfying clack. The practical Frederick fired his revolver quickly and without mercy, leaving every target a blood splatter on the dark soil.

But even with these efforts, the fairies quickly overtook them. Frothing mouths and gnashing teeth soon surrounded the adventurers.

They had expected this – after all, fairies could only be kept at bay with magic, as was their birthright. They all looked to Terra, their resident mage.

Taking this as her cue, Terra retrieved the kobold tooth from her belt, crushing the hollow bone in her palm until it was a thin powder.

A simple wind spell would spread the tooth, subduing the fairies until Terra could harness lightning to defeat them for good – electricity was the only natural element they had no control over.

Terra took a deep breath, and a howling gust of wind blew through the forest as she puffed out the ground tooth. A white cloud swirled around her. The rest of the party kept their distance, both out of reach from the spell and the rabid fairies. The cloud overcame the swarm, and, as they smelled the scent of their natural enemy, went limp and hovered in the air.

Exactly as planned.

Terra stretched her fingers, feeling the warm pulse of magic flow through her hands. To the knuckles, to the joints, then to the tips it went.

But, before she could cast the final spell, her breath caught.

The KOBOLD POWDER is tickling your throat.

Terra tried to will herself to focus on the spell, but it was no use. The powder was making her eyes water and her throat dry. She hacked out a cough, still holding her hands in front of her to cast. The spell buzzed uselessly from her fingertips.

No matter how much she wheezed and croaked, Terra couldn’t keep upright long enough to cast her spell. The cloud was starting to settle, and one of the bigger fairies shook itself from its haze, baring its fangs. It dived into a thin part of the cloud towards Terra.

“Watch out!” Norif called, but it was no use. Terra could hardly hear herself think, much less anyone else over her hacking.

Terra looked up just in time to see the fairy rear back an arm and sink its claws into her cheek. She yelped, stumbling back. A tree root caught her heel, and she tumbled to the ground. She lifted herself onto her elbows to the fairy growling a low growl, preparing another, deadlier attack. Green venom dripped from its fangs, and its yellow eyes dilated. Terra held her hands in front of her, trying in vain to ward off the creature.

“N-Nice fairy…snf…”

Unbeknownst to the mage, the tickle in her throat had slowly traveled to her sinuses. Her freckled nose began to twitch.

You need to SNEEZE.

“Deh-Don’t…hih-!”

A small group of black clouds gathered above them, and Terra’s hands began to crackle. Thunder crashed. The fairy started, looking up with wide eyes and a whimper. Terra squeezed one watering eye shut.

“A-Almost…gih-!”

The clouds grew thicker, the thunder louder. The tree branches trembled in the wind. The other fairies, still hovering, looked up at the rumbling sky. Terra hitched, curling her fingers.

“HAH-!”

KSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSH!

You used CALL OF LIGHTNING.

Lightning flashed, hitting every single fairy with a bolt of white hot magic. They fell to the ground, singed and lifeless. Barely contained, bolts began hitting nearby trees, giving them black, round burn marks with red centers. If the rest of the party hadn’t gotten out of range of Terra’s magic, they would have surely been struck as well.

It was VERY EFFECTIVE.

Once the spell had run out of targets, it ended, and the dust cleared. All that was left in the now barren clearing was Terra, stunned and still holding her hands in front of her. A light drizzle began to fall.

There was a long pause as the party stood still in front of the clearing, afraid to join the fairies littering the ground.

“Cogs and corkscrews,” Vin murmured, their usually narrowed eyes wide.

Norif gingerly stepped into the singed circle, keeping the blade of his ax above him just in case.

“Y’alright?” he said, taking a torn rag from his breast pocket.

Terra blinked, and a nervous smile shook on her lips.

“I, uh…the spell kind of got away from me, huh?”

“I’d say so,” Vin said, earning him a glare from Norif, who had begun dressing the wound on Terra’s cheek.

“At least the job’s done,” he soothed. “No one in their right head would want fairies caught alive.”

Terra nodded. “Yeah. That’s right. Just - koff! - give me a sec and I’ll -”

ENERGY has decreased. You are now EXHAUSTED.

Terra fell back against the tree trunk, wincing. Norif rubbed her shoulder.

“We’ll make sure the fairies don’ seep back into the soil. You did your part. We’ll do ours.”

Hardly in a position to argue, Terra leaned her head against the tree trunk, closing her burning eyes.

Before she knew it, a pair of strong arms lifted her up from the ground. All she heard before she dozed off was Vin complaining that their glasses would get rusted in the rain, and there wasn’t a blacksmith for miles, and was it really necessary to do a lightning spell of all things…

*****************************************

You have entered GWALT’S INN.

“A c-couple rooms, if ya would.”

The innkeeper peered over at the counter at the adventurers. Terra was standing, as she had insisted on entering the inn on her own two feet. However, she had a hand on Frederick’s shoulder for support.

The innkeeper raised an eyebrow. “On whose account?”

Terra looked around. Instead of drunken workmen or soldiers recounting battle, the fine oaken tables were filled with nobles politely chatting over honey mead or aged wine. A few of them had turned to stare at the soaked, mud-covered party in varying degrees of confusion and disdain.

This wasn’t an adventurer’s inn, but a place for those of higher standing to feel a clean ruggedness, a false sense of bravery as they “conversed with the locals.”

This wasn’t a place for them.

However, before they could return to the stormy darkness, Frederick held up a hand and reached inside his cloak. He retrieved a thin card, one side silver and the other gold. A few words that Terra didn’t recognize were engraved into the metal. Frederick laid the card on the counter, pushing it towards the innkeeper with the tip of his finger.

To Terra’s surprise, the innkeeper began to sputter, his waxy face turning red.

“Of course, sirs! Madams! His majesty’s brave battalion!”

The nobles began to whisper among themselves, their disgust turning quickly to awe and reverence.

“I am terribly sorry, no, outraged that you had to travel in such dreadful weather!” the innkeeper stammered, showing them up the stairs with a low bow. “I will have your clothes washed immediately, and perfumed of course! And whatever of our selection of humble morsels you may like, if thou wishes.”

Terra raised her eyebrows, looking at Frederick. He only nodded solemnly.

It wasn’t long before the mage was in a pair of silk bedclothes, laying in a large bed with frilled sheets and a thick quilt.

However, she wasn’t sleeping.

“Ih-! Hih…!”

You need to SNEEZE.

She sniffled, then, with a sigh, blew her nose. Mounds of tissues surrounded her, all provided by the inn staff, of course. However, no matter how much she snuffled and sniffled and rubbed her nostrils with the palm of her hand, she couldn’t bring herself to sneeze – though the need grew ever more powerful.

Unable to doze for more than a few minutes, she tried to plan the next few days' journey with Vin and Norif, but to no avail.

“If we - snf! - take the high road,” she wavered, keeping a tissue at her nose, “w-we can…meh-!...make good time.”

Norif rubbed the end of his beard. “I don’ think we’ll be leavin’ this inn for a while. On account’ve…”

He cleared his throat.

“...the weather, a’course.”

“The rain’s never stopped us before,” Terra said. “A-And we won’t - snf! - have to stop for washing! We’ll just let the rain…c-clean - HI’HIH-!”

“Would you be quiet?” Vin hissed, not looking up from the map. “I can hardly concentrate.”

Norif slit his eyes at the halfling. Terra growled in frustration.

“You made me lose it again!”

She reached for another tissue, but, finding there to be none left, she buried her nose into the neck of her shirt.

“Disgusting,” Vin said, recoiling and putting the map in front of their eyes.

Terra ignored them. “Maybe some of the kobold tooth got into my nose…I’ve neheeded to sneeze since we bagged the fairies.”

She sniffled.

“Or maybe it’s a curse? But what curse makes you n-need to sneeze?”

Before Norif could answer, the door opened, and Frederick came in, arms full with packs of tissues from the innkeeper. He moved carefully around the bed, handing one of the packs to Terra. She ripped them open with one hand – as the other was more than occupied – and put almost half of them to her streaming nose.

“Thangk you,” she said with a blow.

Norif moved the quilt up to Terra’s shoulders, gently pushing her head onto the mountain of silk pillows.

“Well, until this, er, curse passes, it would be best to lay yourself down for a bit. Maybe Vin could find a cure for ya. Yea, Vin?”

Vin raised their eyebrow at the pointed request, but said nothing to refuse.

“I’ll be fine,” Terra said, propping herself up on her elbows. “And we’re - snf! - leaving tomorrow, rain or shine…!”

She yawned, settling back down again.

“Curse…or no curse.”

******************************

The innkeeper had insisted on breakfast before the party left. An array of meat, pastries, fresh fruit, wine, and mead were brought before them – a king’s feast.

But Terra could hardly touch it.

Having been kept up almost all night by her burning sinuses and aching head, she could only lean against the back of the wooden chair, shivering as the chilly morning air drafted through. Her coat was made to be warm, even in the most frigid northern wind, but it seemed like the cold was leeching into her very bones.

She was only awoken when Norif put a hand on her forehead. The warmth of his rough palm felt her head, then either side of her neck. She heard him whisper something to the others, but the only thing she could hear was her pounding temples.

“Mmn…is it tibe to leave?” she murmured, trying to push her chair back from the table. Her sore joints were too weak, and the chair’s back legs clacked back onto the floor.

“Ah! Not just yet,” Norif saud, an odd tone of urgency in his voice. “We need’ta…er, Vin’s gonna go to a library nearby. T’cure your curse. There’s really no use ‘n you goin’, it’s all dusty books and scrolls.”

“Don’d have tibe,” Terra croaked. “Back to the guild.”

Norif gave Vin a pleading look, and the scholar fumbled with their knapsack, taking out a few tattered papers and maps.

“Eh, w-well, we are a few days ahead of schedule. We needn’t be back for at least another week, and it only takes three days to - ”

Terra was already up from the table, ignoring Vin. Without much choice, everyone else followed suit. After yesterday’s battle, they were afraid of what might happen if they tried to force her back to bed.

The weather had much improved since the day before. Though it was still a bit gray, the sun peeked out between the clouds, sending rays of light through the raindrops still left on the leaves.

Despite her weakness, Terra took the front as usual, plodding alongside Norif. Shivers ran up and down her spine as a cold wind left from the storm began to blow.

As the group walked near the edge of the woods, the clouds grew darker, and the sun disappeared again. Terra put a thumb on the underside of her nose.

You need to SNEEZE.

Terra sniffled and rolled her eyes. As if on cue, her nostrils began to tremble, and a burning tickle flared in her swollen sinuses. But, this time, the urge grew so great that it made the mage stop in her tracks.

“Hih…? HIH-!”

Attempt to STIFLE? > YES NO

She put her hands over her nose. A slow tingling made its way from her nose to the rest of her body. Soon, the air around her crackled with blue sparks of magic.

“Terra?” Norif said, reaching towards her before thinking better of it.

Terra tried to answer, but it was taking everything in her to keep the magic contained. Thunder rumbled in the clouds as she squeezed one watery eye shut.

“I-I’m…guh-! HUH-!”

She desperately waved to her friends to stand back – she knew that this sneeze was coming, one way or another. The party wasted no time, running behind the treeline with whatever they could carry above their heads to protect them.

“HihihHIH-!”

Terra leaned her head back, the magic coming to a peak inside her. The air was suddenly silent – a calm before the storm. Until –

“HIYA’TSHIIIIIIIEW!”

A circle of lightning flashed around her, and thunder rumbled loud enough to shake the earth. Smoking burn marks smoked around her.

But, before the rest of the party could join her again –

“HYESH’IIIIIEW!”

Again and again Terra sneezed, with each sneeze bringing another ring of lightning and another round of thunder. All of her lost sneezes from the night before seemed to finally come to fruition, and she couldn’t stop for some time.

Finally, though, Terra did stop. She lifted her head, dazed and with singed hair, and sniffled thickly.

SNEEZE COMBO x15!

Snottiness Rank B! Power Rank A+!

Bless you, TERRA!

One by one, her comrades came to join her – Norif first, of course, then Frederick, then, after some convincing, Vin.

The thunder had subsided, but a heavy rain had begun to fall. Terra started to shiver again, her trembling breath visible in blue puffs of steam.

“Ya poor thing…” Norif said, taking off his own fur-lined cloak and tying it around her shoulders. “You really oughta’ve stayed in bed.”

Terra rubbed her nose on the back of her damp sleeve. “Bud…th-the guild…we need…koff!”

She began coughing into her arm, and Norif fastened his cloak tighter around her.

“Ya need do no such thing,” he said firmly, though not unkindly. “You’re sick as a gnome in the rainy season. And almost half as wet –”

“And the sooner you put aside that hero complex of yours,” Vin interrupted, “the sooner we can get inside the inn, out of this weather! I’m already soaking, and we certainly don’t need two people ill in this party!”

They crossed their arms, and lifted their chin.

“Furthermore,” they added, “we wouldn’t want you catching pneumonia. That’s quite a bit harder to treat than that disgusting cold. And I will be significantly more furious with you if I catch it.”

Frederick took off his combat gloves, then put them over Terra’s red-tipped hands. He looked over his glasses and gave her one of his rare smiles. Putting his palms on either side of Terra’s hands, Frederick rubbed them together, trying to warm them.

“Ya feelin’ better, Terra?” Norif asked.

Terra sniffled. “C-Cold…”

“Well, no wonder!” Vin said, scoffing. “Heat is mostly lost through the head. If she had some sort of covering, then, perhaps…she could…”

Vin stopped. Everyone was staring at them. Or, rather, their scholar’s beret.

“I mean…or, rather…” they spluttered, then threw their hands up. “Oh, fine! But it had better be returned to me in the exact condition I lent it. It’s irreplaceable, you know.”

They took off their hat, stiffly handing it to Frederick, as if through ceremony rather than a favor.

“Your sacrifice will be remembered through th’ ages!” Norif said, chuckling.

Vin glared at him. “My patience has already been tested enough. Do not test it further.”

“Aye, aye.”

Terra could feel a slow warmness spread through her, and her eyes suddenly felt heavy as iron.

“Alright, up ya go. Let’s get ya out of the cold.”

Terra was heaved up again, and, surrounded by the warmth of her friends, drifted into a dreamless, sneezeless sleep.

FRIENDSHIP LEVEL +1!

********************************

You have entered MARLINE’S MAGIC SHOP!

“Welcome back, traveler! Might I interest you in our wares?”

Marline smiled at the returning Terra, who replied by blowing her nose into a pink tissue.

“How’s it going, Mar?” Terra said, sniffling as she looked at the glimmering displays.

Marline’s smile faded. “Are you not well, traveler?”

“I’m weller than I have been. Just a liddle sniffly now. Snf!”

Marline put a hand to her mouth.

“Oh, Terra…it must have been my chill that you caught. And I left you without any faeleaf!”

Terra rubbed the back of her neck. “About that. You wouldn’t happen to have any more of that left in stock, would you?”

“Ah, yes, a fresh bunch! Why-”

Suddenly, a large, dwarvish sneeze came from outside the shop, followed by a chorus of harsh coughs. Marline put her lips together underneath her hand, keeping back a giggle.

“Oh, dear.”

“Yeah,” Terra said sheepishly. “I’ll take three pouches.”

She furrowed her brow, counting on her fingers.

“And a few-”

Another sneeze rang out, this time small and high-pitched.

“Okay, a lot of tissues. We’re gonna need ‘em. Maybe some tea? I guess? That’s what Vin gave me when I was sick, anyway.”

Marline winked. “I know just the thing.”

She disappeared behind the shelves for a few moments, coming back with many packs of tissues, two pouches of strong-smelling tea leaves, a few pouches of faeleaves, and a thick blanket.

“May your party be blessed with a quick recovery,” Marline said.

Terra started to reach for her coin pouch, but Marline stopped her.

“I gave you and the others my cold. I’m going to cure it as best I can.”

Terra opened her mouth to argue, but closed it again. She began to put the items in her bag.

“You’ll have nothing to sell at this rate, Marline,” she said.

Marline tilted her head. “Well, I can always deal in colds.”

Yet another sneeze came from the doorway, raspy and shuddering.

“It appears I’m quite good at it, I’m afraid.”

“I am too, if being an adventurer doesn’t pan out,” Terra said, turning to leave. “See you later, Marline!”

“Goodbye, dear traveler! And good health!”

Marline chuckled as Terra joined the others.

“Though it appears it’s a little late for that.”

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whiskey-tango-matcha · 4 months

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Three (m/m, cold)

And now, for something completely different.

Well, not completely - it's still a cold fic lol. This one is specifically for @ghostlychill who has asked for more Matt and Mark. This is basically the saga of how they ended up together, and it is certainly out of my wheelhouse because it actually has romance lmao. A pre-warning, this is plot heavy (for me) and a little sneeze light. There are a few Greyson cold sneezes, and Matt is sick for the latter half, but it's more of a romance sickfic than a true snz fic. But I hope you like it if you read it; let me know if you all want more Matt and Mark. They were honestly really fun to write, and I banged this monster of a fic out in just a few hours so the muse was musing.

Ok, done rambling. Enjoy :)

CW: Male, M/M (not sexually explicit, just kissing), colds, contagion, coughing, fevers, light mess. 4.3k words under the cut.

Three

Their first kiss was an accident.

Post-brunch. Pre-holidays. “Grab a beer?” Mark had asked as Matt stuffed his dirty chef coat into his backpack. It had become a bit of a ritual for the two of them to grab a drink after a long shift in the past few weeks; usually it was under cover of darkness, but this brunch had been particularly brutal and Matt was craving not just a beverage, but some commiseration. He shrugged, hoisted his backpack onto a shoulder.

“Sure. You’ve got first round.”

One round had quickly turned to two, then three, and before five pm hit they were drunkenly crashing their pint glasses into each other and talking much louder than the half-full pub required to be heard. Matt drained his fifth beer and looked to Mark, smiling sloppily. “One more?” he asked.

Mark pushed his hair out of his face and leaned his head into one hand, taking the other man in. “If it’ll keep you in my line of sight,” he said, emboldened by booze, “I’ll stay here all night long.”

When the bartender finally kicked them out around eight, the two men were so drunk they had to use one another as walking sticks to get down the block.

“We’re way too drunk to be on the street,” Mark laughed, putting a hand over one eye. “I’m seeing, like… quadruple.”

“That’s wild, ‘cause I can’t see at all,” Matt said, looping his arm through Mark’s. The two of them laughed and stumbled until they hit a bench near well-lit central park and flopped down.

“I can’t remember where I live,” Matt admitted, placing his head on Mark’s shoulder. Their arms had stayed looped. Mark gently placed his head atop Matt’s.

“Me either,” he said. “But… can I tell you a secret?”

Matt looked up. Nodded.

“I don’t want to go home,” Mark said, letting a slow smile spread across his face. Matt felt his cheeks flame; he let a beat pass before he smiled back.

“Me either,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Later, they wouldn’t remember who initiated it. All they would remember was when their lips pressed together, everything else melted away.

***

“Oh! Oh, shit, fuck, sorry guys I didn’t -”

“Chef, shit! Oh, fuckin’ hell -”

Greyson slammed the door to the bathroom shut, leaving Matt and Mark to stare at one another, eyes wide as saucers – the silence between them thick as the cigarette smoke that hung in the air outside that little room.

Finally, Mark broke the silence. “Um… do you think he saw anything?”

Matt couldn’t help it; he barked out a laugh. Mark slapped a hand across the other man’s mouth, making him laugh even harder. He really didn’t know what he’d been thinking following Mark in here in the first place.

Much like the stupid party they were hiding from in the bathroom, their second kiss was clearly a mistake.

The New Year’s Eve party had been Elijah’s idea, much to the surprise of literally everyone at the restaurant.

“What?” Elijah had asked when his announcement during pre-shift had been met with a stunned silence. “I thought you all loved parties!”

The servers and cooks eyed one another in a way they all hoped wasn’t completely obvious, until finally Greyson said what everyone was thinking. “Boss, yeah, everyone loves parties… except you.”

Elijah had scoffed at this. “You guys obviously don’t really know me; I love parties.”

Of course, Elijah didn’t love parties and it ended up moving from his roomy condo to Greyson’s tiny Brooklyn apartment at the last minute. Post-service on New Year’s Eve, Matt helped his boss load extra bottles of champagne, vodka, and tequila into the back of the restaurant’s van all while Greyson grumbled about Elijah.

“Fuckin’ Elijah,” Greyson said for about the fiftieth time that evening. “Why the fuck would he even mention a party if he wasn’t a thousand percent sure he wanted to ho – hh-”

Matt glanced up at his boss, who held an arm midair in anticipation. This was the real reason Greyson, who threw parties at his place at least three times a year, was pissed about having to host the work shindig: he was sick.

“Hh-! HhhITSZZH-ue!” Greyson folded over into his elbow, sniffled, and cleared his throat.

“Bless,” Matt offered, placing the rest of the alcohol into the back of the car. “Chef, I’m sure that everyone will understand if you don’t feel up to having twenty people in your apartment. There’re tons of parties right around here, why don’t you just… call it off?”

Greyson, stubborn as ever, just shook his head. “I said I’d do it. They’re already on their way.”

So Matt loaded into the van with Greyson, and Mark got in Elijah’s car with the GM while the rest of the staff hopped on the subway for the party that no one really wanted to be at. Greyson, who’d been able to keep his illness at bay for most of the shift thanks mostly to the Sudafed he kept slamming, started coming down hard the moment they began their drive to Brooklyn.

“Hh...hhITSZZH-ue! Huh-! ETSZH-ue! Fuck mbe,” Greyson muttered, using his sleeve to wipe under his nose with one hand while he drove through the busy Manhattan streets with the other.

“Um… do you want to pull over so I can drive?” Matt asked, a little more pointed than his boss was used to him being. Greyson shot his sous chef a look.

“Ndo,” he said. “I’ve got it.”

Matt was hardly a germaphobe – working in a kitchen bred that out of you pretty quickly – but he couldn’t help but cringe away with every sneeze and cough that came from his boss’s side of the car. He found himself thinking about Mark; they had plans to hang out in just a few days, plans that both of them had been forced to cancel multiple times already, and Matt could just feel Greyson’s germs making themselves at home inside his body. He really didn’t want to cancel on Mark again; he wasn’t exactly sure what they were, what he wanted them to be, or what Mark thought they were, but whatever it was, he didn’t want to fuck it up. Matt was entirely too good at fucking up a good thing.

“HRRSHH-ue!” Clearly, that one snuck up on him, because that time Greyson barely covered his mouth. Matt shrank into the door and considered pulling his shirt over his nose and mouth in a desperate attempt to keep his boss from infecting him. Greyson glanced over at Matt and coughed out a laugh.

“Sorry, kid,” he said, patting Matt’s leg, “but you’re probably already fucked.”

Eventually, they made it to Greyson’s walk-up and after what felt like an eon, they got everything inside. Elijah immediately recruited Mark to help pour champagne for everyone, and Greyson left his sous to go outside and smoke on the patio – Matt had no choice but to just start drinking.

By the time the cooks and servers made it to Greyson’s apartment, Matt was half in the bag. He floated sloppily from group to group, telling jokes and prompting everyone to take shots with him, all while keeping one eye on Mark at all times. Elijah had been keeping his liege busy; Mark was bartending, putting appetizers in the oven, picking up trash… everything except hanging out with Matt. So when he finally got to take a bathroom break, Matt threw back his tequila soda and, emboldened by liquor, followed behind him.

“Hey, it’s occ-” Mark started to say when the bathroom door opened right on his heels – but he was cut off when Matt swung him around, grabbed his face in both hands, stood on his tiptoes, and pressed his lips firmly on the other man’s.

Mark certainly wasn’t pulling away; in fact, the moment their lips touched, Mark grabbed Matt by the hips and lifted him onto Greyson’s tiny vanity to make the kiss easier on both of them. Matt pulled away for just a moment to look at Mark – his black-framed glasses were askew, his hair was wild from Matt’s hands coursing through it, and his face was flushed with lust. Matt was sure he’d never seen anyone so beautiful.

“What was that for?” Mark asked, his voice low. Matt’s face cracked into a smile.

“I haven’t gotten to spend any time with you tonight,” he said, pushing Mark’s hair away from his face. “And I’m probably gonna have to cancel our plans on Monday.”

Mark’s brows knit together, confused. “Why?” he asked. “Is this, like, a fare-thee-well, this is the last time this will happen kiss situation?”

Matt laughed, shook his head. “No,” he said, cocking his head towards the door, where the party rumbled outside. “I’m, like, 99% sure Greyson infected me with his disgusting illness on the long-ass drive over here. I wouldn’t force you to hang out with me when I’m inevitably sick.” He shrugged. “So I figured I’d sneak some time with you where I could.”

Matt didn’t wait for Mark’s response about his impending doom; he just leaned in again. This time, Mark parted his lips and slid his tongue in to meet Matt’s. Matt allowed a quiet moan to escape his lips, let his hand feel its way down to Mark’s shirt, and began unbuttoning when the door flew open once more.

“Oh!”

Greyson.

***

“Chef, I am not in the mood today.”

“Oh c’mon, if I can’t poke fun at your drunken antics then what’s even the point of living? You make fun of my drunken antics all the time.”

Matt put down his knife and gave his boss a pointed look. “Yeah, maybe for like a day after they go down, but New Year’s was three days ago. Are you planning on ever letting it go?”

Greyson shrugged as he pushed onions into a deli container and snapped the lid shut. “Probably not. I mean, it’s just too good – caught red handed in my bathroom. Like, it couldn’t have happened more perfectly if I wrote it myself.”

Matt rolled his eyes; while Greyson living for his embarrassment was annoying, it was kind of the last thing on his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about Mark – after the bathroom kiss situation went down, he’d slipped out of the party and hadn’t mentioned anything about it to Matt since. Matt assumed he wanted to put it out of his head. Maybe the kiss – both of the kisses – hadn’t felt to Mark like they did to Matt. Maybe Mark was put off by how drunk Matt had been both times. Maybe he just wasn’t into him.

All Matt knew was, he desperately wanted to talk to Mark – but despite working the same hours in the same tiny restaurant, Mark had managed to avoid him like the plague.

Speaking of which.

“HTSHH-uh! Hh! Hh’ITSHH-uh! ETZSH-ue!” Matt turned away from the food to sneeze into his shoulder, then his hand, then finally his elbow. Greyson stepped over and plucked Matt’s knife out of his hand while the younger man was compromised.

“You’ll take someone’s eye out that way,” he chastised, placing the knife on Matt’s cutting board. The sous rolled his eyes, sucked in through his nose, and trudged to the sink to wash his hands.

“I don’t want to hear it from you, Chef. You’re the fucking plague rat of this restaurant,” Matt murmured, pulling a hand down his face. This was the other issue: Matt and Mark were supposed to hang out tomorrow, but just as he predicted, Matt had been gifted the cold Greyson had on New Year’s. If Mark didn’t want to talk to him when he was healthy and just a few steps away, he certainly wouldn’t be traversing the city tomorrow to hang out with Matt when he was fever-addled and snot-ridden.

“Rude,” Greyson said, continuing his prep. “But not entirely untrue. Sorry you’re sick.”

“Whatever,” Matt grumbled, his bad mood amplified by his pounding head. “Can you just drop the bathroom situation?”

Greyson bit his cheek to keep from smiling. “I can certainly try.”

Matt knew that meant ‘no’, but he’d take what he could get. He picked his knife back up to start chopping broccoli, but almost cut himself when Mark slipped into the back kitchen.

“Chef?” he asked, prompting both Greyson and Matt’s heads to shoot up. Matt’s face flamed when Greyson swiveled his head to meet his sous’ eyes with a cheeky grin – he put his head back down, pretending to focus on his work.

“Yes, Mark, how can I assist you?” Greyson asked, wiping his hands on the towel next to his cutting board. Matt felt Mark shoot a quick glance his way; his cheeks burned with the knowledge.

“Elijah is looking for you. Says he has a question about tonight’s ten-top with the prixe fix?”

Greyson rolled his eyes, but abandoned his prep for the moment. “When doesn’t Elijah have a question about a prixe fix?” he asked to no one in particular. “I’ll go talk to him. Thanks.”

The chef exited the back kitchen, leaving a sniffling Matt and a stuck-in-place Mark in his wake. Matt was the first to break the silence – unwillingly.

“Hh-! NTSHH-uh!” The sous attempted to stifle a sneeze into his palm, but only succeeded in making a mess of himself. His face reddened impossibly deeper, and he was forced to put down his knife and head for the sink.

“Bless you,” Mark said as Matt pulled a paper towel from the dispenser and blew his nose. Matt swallowed painfully, washed his hands again, and nodded.

“Thanks,” he said, clearing his throat.

They lapsed into silence once again, neither one looking at the other. “Um,” Mark said, finally, “are you -”

“I have to get this work done,” Matt interrupted, though he couldn’t explain to even himself why he wouldn’t let Mark ask if he was okay. “Have a good shift, okay?”

Mark blinked, taken aback, but nodded. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and turned to leave the back kitchen without a word. Matt didn’t let himself watch the other man go.

***

It was like watching a train wreck.

“Matt,” Greyson called from his spot at the expo board. “Where are we at on the halibut for 63?”

Mark’s eyes darted behind the line where Matt was doubled over, coughing into the collar of his chef’s coat. The sous chef had started the evening looking very much under the weather and quite a bit worse for the wear, but now, at nine PM he looked like he was ready to keel over right there on the line. Mark bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything.

“Matt!” Greyson called again, and Matt stood, shakily, to place the likely-overcooked halibut onto its plate. He pushed it through the window and gave his boss a pointed look.

“The food has to cook, Chef, you gotta give mbe a minu – uh! ETSZCH-uhh!” Matt collapsed once again into his collar, righted himself quickly, and sucked in through his nose. “A mbinute,” he finished, his voice cracking.

“Halibut doesn’t take twenty minutes to cook, Chef,” Greyson snapped, snatching the plate from the line. “I expect my number-two to be able to keep ticket times under fifty minutes so the fucking restaurant doesn’t shut the fuck down.” Greyson handed three plates to Mark, who took them wordlessly and slunk out of the kitchen.

Mark dropped the food at its respective table, the guilt of not saying anything to Matt slowly eating away at him. He counted the tables left in the restaurant who still needed to eat – definitely more than he was hoping for. He really, really didn’t want to go back to the kitchen.

“Hey, Lij?” Mark said, approaching his boss at the host stand. Elijah was moving reservations from table to table on the iPad, configuring the remainder of the night.

“Hmm?” Elijah murmured, only half paying attention. Mark pursed his lips, weighing whether he should say anything.

Finally, he said, “Do you think you could ask Greyson to kind of… cool it with Matt? I mean, he seems like he’s really sick and Chef is like… totally berating him.”

Elijah raised an eyebrow and looked away from the iPad to meet Mark’s eyes. “You want me to ask Greyson to stop yelling at Matt… now? In the middle of service, when there are tables who have thirty-plus-minute ticket times?” The GM huffed out a laugh. “Man, Greyson told me about the whole bathroom situation, but I figured you guys were just drunk. I didn’t realize you were down so badly for him.”

Mark’s face flushed crimson; Elijah smirked at him, and turned back to the iPad. “Matt’s a big boy, Mark,” he said, not looking the floor manager in the eye. “He can handle Greyson yelling at him.”

“Yeah,” Mark muttered. “Okay.”

Mark trudged back to the kitchen to grab more food, the sound of Greyson’s frustrated voice hitting him before he could even step foot through the swinging doors.

“Order in! Two filets, two tofu, one halibut! Matt, I swear to God I had better see table twenty-six up in the next three seconds, Chef, it’s already at twenty-two minutes.”

“Yes, Chef,” Matt mumbled, barely loud enough for anyone to hear.

“I can’t hear you, Chef,” Greyson yelled back, tweezering herbs onto a dish.

“Yes, Che – ITZSHH-ue! HRETSZH-ue!” Matt ducked down below the line to sneeze, the sound painful and desperate. Mark could hear the crackling cough he was trying to hide all the way from where he was standing; his heart sunk. He wished like hell that he’d had the balls to say something – anything – to the other man this week. He wished he wasn’t such a fucking baby when it came to his feelings, or relationships, or standing up for himself or anyone else. He wished he was anyone but himself.

“Bless – Chef, do you need to switch spots with me?” Greyson asked, his voice finally softening at the sound of Matt’s coughing.

“Ndo, Chef,” Matt managed, standing. “I’mb fine. Twenty-six, up,” he said, slamming the plates onto the pass.

“Great,” Greyson mumbled. He garnished the plates and shoved them into Mark’s hands. “Twenty-six, go,” he said, not looking at the floor manager.

Mark nodded; he took the plates out into the dining room and dropped them; as he did, he made a promise to himself and, silently, to Matt: maybe there was nothing he could do or say during the shift to make Matt feel any better, but he would figure out a way, post-shift, to do something to help him. He would grow some balls, if it killed him.

While Elijah was still busy looking at reservations, Mark slipped into the bathroom and pulled out his phone. He put in a grocery order, to be picked up at ten the next morning. He typed out a text to Matt, scheduled it to send at the same time he would be picking up the groceries so he wouldn’t be able to wimp out and unschedule it. Then he put his phone back in his pocket, opened the door, and went to finish the shift.

***

His phone was ringing.

Matt groaned as he came to; he was covered in sweat, he could barely breathe, and he was stiff as a fucking board from passing out on his couch. Who the fuck was calling him? It was his one day off, could Greyson not leave him alone for one fucking day?

He grabbed the phone off the coffee table, ready to throw it across the room, when he realized the name on the screen wasn’t his boss’s.

Call from: Mark, Work.

Matt’s stomach jumped into his throat. The phone continued to ring while he squinted at the clock in the corner: ten twenty-three AM. Had he and Mark spoken last night? He could barely remember a fucking thing about the previous night, other than being utterly and completely miserable. The two of them definitely hadn’t spoken; he remembered giving Mark the cold should before service started, remembered the pitying look Mark had given him as Greyson screamed the restaurant down, remembered flying out the door the moment Greyson told him to go. They hadn’t spoken, their plans were obviously off, so why the hell was Mark calling him?

The call went to voicemail. Matt coughed into his elbow, a chesty sound that he really didn’t like, especially since he didn’t have health insurance. After a minute or so, another notification popped up: one new voicemail.

Curiosity got the better of him. Matt opened his phone and hit ‘play’.

“Hey, Matt, it’s um… it’s me. I know this is super weird, like I don’t know why I did it at this point weird, but, uh… I’m outside your building. I texted you, but now I’m realizing you’re probably asleep. Uh… I mean, if you get this I’m gonna, like, hang out out here for a bit. I brought soup! I can’t cook, so it’s from a deli, but I figured you might need something to eat, and you probably don’t want to cook since you’re sick. Your place is nice, by the way. Um. Okay. If you get this, cool, if not, I’ll uh… I’ll leave in a little bit. Okay. Bye.”

Matt felt his heart near-explode in his chest. Mark was sitting outside his building, with soup? What was this, a Hallmark movie?

He did it without thinking; he pulled up his text conversation with Mark and typed, hey, im awake. sorry I missed ur call. ill buzz you up :)

Mark was up the stairs in record time. He knocked, and Matt stood from the couch, forgetting until he was vertical that he was still in his work clothes from last night. Gross, he thought, but it was too late to change now – he took a few shaky steps towards the door and opened up.

Matt barely recognized Mark at first; he was only used to his floor-manager getup, button-downs and ties and slacks, his hair gelled back. Today, Mark wore jeans and a jean jacket over a Brighton University hoodie – did he go to college in England? - with black high-top converse. His curly hair was in his face, and he was carrying two full grocery bags. Mark smiled.

“Hey,” he said. “Can I come in?”

��Yea -” Matt attempted, not realizing his voice was completely shot until he tried to use it for the first time that day. His hand flew to his throat and he attempted to clear it, to no avail. “Shit, sorry, apparently I can’t talk,” he whispered.

Mark pursed his lips, obviously concerned. “That’s okay,” he said, stepping through the front door. He placed the bags on Matt’s tiny kitchen table and began pulling out supplies. “I come bearing gifts.”

There was the soup, like he said, but Mark also pulled out dayquil, and sudafed, and cough drops. He pulled out a box of tissues, bags of tea, and cough syrup – quite literally the whole nine yards. “I didn’t know what you had, so I figured I’d grab one of everything,” Mark said, embarrassed.

Matt didn’t know what to say. “Mark, I – hh! hhIGTSZH-uhh! Hh’TSHH-ue!” Matt crumpled into his elbow to sneeze, hard, and lapsed into a fit of coughing. Mark pushed the cold supplies towards him, smiling a bit.

“Bless you,” he said. “I’m sorry you’re so sick.”

Matt took a moment to blow his nose and uncapped the cough syrup. He chugged a bit, righted himself, and shrugged, embarrassed. “Not your fault,” he croaked. “Thank you for bringing all this.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Mark said, not looking into Matt’s eyes. “I’m really sorry for ignoring you the past few days, Matt. I… I mean, I don’t want to scare you off or anything but I haven’t really had, like, a real relationship in a long time. Like, a really long time.” He looked up, caught Matt’s red, watery eyes in his, and gave up the whole truth. “Like… ever.”

Matt nodded slowly, processing. “So… you don’t hate me?” he asked, the fever tossing to the wayside any filter he might have once had. Mark’s face colored; he laughed.

“I don’t hate you,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Like… I really don’t hate you. I – I mean, I really, really like you, Matt.”

It was Matt’s turn to flush bright red. “Even like this?” he asked, coughing into his fist. Mark smiled.

“Even like that.”

The two of them stood there, smiling twin goofy smiles, for a moment before Matt ducked once again into his elbow.

“Hh – ITSZHH-ue! Guhh.” He wiped his nose on the back of his hand, not caring how disgusting he looked. “I, umb, I really like you too, Mbark,” he said, coughing again. “Like… probably mbore than is normal or rational.”

This time, it was Matt who was caught off-guard. Before he knew what was happening, Mark had his hands on either side of Matt’s hot face and was tipping Matt’s head up to meet his. This one was different; while the first two kisses felt hungry, dangerous, this one was soft; an invitation. A promise of a future yet to come.

Matt pulled away to catch his breath. “You’ll get sick,” he muttered, eyes closed and hands around Mark’s thin frame. Mark tipped Matt’s head up, pushed his sweaty, dishwater blond hair out of his eyes, and pressed their foreheads together.

“I know,” he said, and pressed his lips against Matt’s once again.

Their third kiss – well. That was the one they would tell everyone at the wedding about.

#whiskeyswriting #snz #sickfic #snzfic #coldfic #snez #snzblr #male cold #male snz #m/m #male ocs #contagion #mess #i'd love to hear any feedback good or bad on this one bc i haven't written romance anything in a very long time lol #and idk if this sucks or not lmaooo

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