#12 days of sickmas

[empresskaze]

12 Days of Sickmas

🤒 1 Bad Cold

🍲 2 Bowls of Soup

💊 3 Bottles of Medicine

🤧 4 Boxes of Tissues

💤 5 Sleepless Nights

🚿 6 Steamy Showers

♥️ 7 Cuddles

☕️ 8 Cups of Tea

👃9 Itchy Sniffles

🎁 10 Sneezing Fits

❄️ 11 Winter Storm

🥶 12 Shivers

(The numbers are for fun, don't feel the need to use them XD Just the prompts)

No set dates just use this whenever in December you want to.

Enjoy! I blame @just-a-nervous-bean for awaking my brain

[straightupsickfics]

secret ingredient

can you believe it's december? i can't.

but i did manage to finish this little good omens soup fic that i'm going to use as day 2: bowls of soup for the 12 days of sickmas prompt list <3

****

For a being that never needs to sleep, Aziraphale is sick enough that he looks like he’s on the verge of falling asleep on his feet, and Crowley cannot say he enjoys seeing his angel this way. Always so full of excited energy and quick, unexpectedly funny quips, Aziraphale can do little more than blink dazedly at him at the moment. 

“Did you hear me, angel?” Crowley asks gently. He’d asked if Aziraphale wanted to go upstairs for some lunch and a nap, but the angel hadn’t replied. Instead, he’d snuffled helplessly into his tartan handkerchief, seemingly on the cusp of a sneeze that kept backing off at the last second. 

Now, Aziraphale brings a hand to his face and rubs at his eyes, thinks for a second, then shakes his head. “Ah, not quite, sorry, dear,” he murmurs. 

He just looks sick and contagious at this point, what with how red his nose has gotten in the last few hours alone, the way the dim light in the bookshop draws attention to the dark shadows beneath his eyes… 

“hh’hDTISshhh’oo!” 

…And the near-constant sneezing. 

Aziraphale hardly looks relieved at finally having sneezed, though. No, he looks like his sinuses are giving him hell, like he knows there are plenty more where that came from. He gives his eyes another rub, this time to wipe away an irritated tear, and Crowley can’t help but move in and envelope him in his arms. The angel settles into the hug almost immediately, sighing with relief as he tucks his head into Crowley’s shoulder, the soft sound of sniffling muffled against the warm fabric of his turtleneck sweater. 

“Sorry, I’mb snf! Quite a sight today, I’m sure,” Aziraphale mumbles. 

“Mm, sight for sore eyes,” Crowley says, tucking a kiss against the top of his ear. “Alright, let’s get you settled then, shall we? A nap might do just the trick. Take it from me angel, there’s nothing that sleeping for a few decades won’t fix.”

“Surely not decades,” Aziraphale says with what can only be called a pout. 

“Well, no, ideally not. Think I’d miss you too much for that,” Crowley confesses, and smiles a little when he feels Aziraphale hug him just that much tighter. 

“And while you sleep, I’ll make us some soup.” 

This is enough to make Aziraphale release him from their embrace and fix him with as withering a look as he can manage, given the circumstances. “Soup? Do you actually know how to cook… well, anything?” He asks, frowning.

Crowley gives an offended little sniff. “Not as such,” he says. “But how hard can it be? Humans do it every day, multiple times a day. And there are plenty of cookbooks for me to reference,” he teases.

Aziraphale’s eyebrows lift in alarm. “Cookbooks?”

“Sure, our cookbooks. In our cooking section,” Crowley explains. 

“Our cookbooks,” Aziraphale repeats under his breath.

Crowley grins at him. “Right, bed. And soup. Don’t worry about a thing, angel, everything will turn out just tickety-boo.” 

The angel is apparently too exhausted to argue any further, because he lets Crowley lead him upstairs to the small, cozy apartment they’ve been sharing these last few months. It’s strange, seeing Aziraphale curling up under the blankets. Normally it’s just Crowley who makes use of the bed for sleeping, with Aziraphale tucked in snugly beside him with a book and a hot cup of tea. 

It’s almost too tempting to slip in beside him now, draw the curtains, and lay down for a nap of his own while Aziraphale sleeps away his cold, but… there’s something drawing him to the idea of making the angel soup. Something quietly romantic and domestic about making something with his own hands that will make his partner feel better. 

So, Crowley makes sure Aziraphale has no less than three blankets, ensures that his feet are properly covered, and presses a kiss to his forehead before he promises to be back soon. 

“Don’t spill anything on my books, please,” Aziraphale frets through a yawn. 

He’ll be asleep in a matter of minutes, Crowley knows, whatever winter virus he has is taking a toll on him enough to knock him out for a good few hours. 

“You can trust me, angel,” Crowley says from the doorway. 

And he can. 

*

In the kitchen, things fall apart pretty immediately. 

Crowley has no idea where Aziraphale keeps anything, or, for that matter, which kind of soup the angel would prefer. And exactly how small is “diced?”

He decides on chicken soup because that’s a classically human “sick day” soup according to everything he’s observed over the years, and it seems simple enough. He’s not sure they have “wild” rice, but surely regular rice will do the trick? 

Of course he could conjure up the soup with much less effort, but that defeats the purpose. So, he chops and boils and hopes for the best, and the kitchen soon smells quite delicious, if he says so himself. 

(He does). 

Crowley ladles the soup into a bowl, conjures up some bread (he’s not that good in the kitchen after this singular attempt), sets everything on one of Aziraphale’s ancient serving trays, and makes his way back to the bedroom. 

“Hh’iiishh! Iishh’oo! Oh, good l-lord…hUH’ieesshhh’oo!” Aziraphale is in the throes of a sneezing fit when he opens the door, though, his body pitching forward as he sneezes helplessly into the pile of blankets, too tired to do much else. 

“Sounds like I’m just in time,” Crowley says by way of greeting. He sets the tray down on the bedside table and leans over to press a kiss to Aziraphale’s forehead. He definitely sounds worse than he had before his nap, so it wouldn’t be out of the question for him to have a fever now, too. 

“You always are,” Aziraphale says, still sniffling. “Don’t do that, you’ll get sick too,” he says, a worried edge seeping into his voice. 

“Bit late for that, isn’t it?” Crowley muses. “Here, look, I didn’t even burn anything down. I’m sure you’ll tell me if it’s shit,” he says, offering the bowl out for Aziraphale to take. 

“I hope I can even taste it,” Aziraphale says sadly. “Thank you, though, for going to the trouble, my dear. You’ll have some, too, yes?” 

“‘Course,” Crowley says, “when have I ever made you eat alone? No, don’t tell me, I’m sure there’s a running list in that brain of yours.” He takes the second bowl and sits next to Aziraphale on the bed. 

Crowley largely ignores his own soup, though, too busy watching Aziraphale take a careful first bite. Something flickers over his face, there and gone too quickly even for Crowley and his 6,000 years of Angel experience to parse, and he can’t help but frown. Maybe it hadn’t gone to plan the way he’d thought. 

When Crowley looks up again, Aziraphale’s face is flushed a delicate shade of pink and his eyes are shining bright with just barely held back tears. 

“What’s happening, angel?” He asks, worried now that something really is wrong. He scoots himself over towards Aziraphale and runs a hand through the familiar, soft blond strands, though this only makes him shake his head and the tears fall in earnest. 

“Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale sighs, swiping them away.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or should I start guessing?” Crowley says, deflecting as his face grows warm from the affection in Aziraphale’s voice. 

His angel gives him a smile so soft and fond that Crowley’s at risk of melting right there on the spot. “I can just...taste...how much love went into this,” Aziraphale finally explains, eyes still shining bright and not breaking eye contact.

“Ngk. I. Well, you know. I do…love you,” Crowley manages to croak, peering over the rims of his sunglasses so Aziraphale can see his eyes, too. 

Aziraphale beams at him. “I’ll be feeling as good as new after this, I think; thank you my love.” 

“S’nothing,” Crowley says, though he knows they both know it isn’t and has never been nothing when it comes to them. Aziraphale lets it go, though, just continues to smile at him as he sniffles through every few bites. 

When they’re done, Aziraphale curls himself up around Crowley, full and warm and ready for another nap, it would seem. 

“I really do appreciate you looking after me, you know,” he confesses as his eyes slip shut. 

Crowley smiles, feels his own face flush as he turns and drops a kiss to Azirphale’s forehead. “I know. Sleep now, angel. I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

❄May Your Days Be Merry and Bright Series🎄

by happyaspie

All of my G rated winter and holiday themed fics in one place!

Peter Parker's December Shenanigans  [1999]

A collection of related short stories that center around Winter/Christmas. Everything from Advent to New Year's Eve. [This fic is a continuation of Peter Parker's October but could also be read alone.]

The Definition of Anything  [2020]

The heater in Peter's apartment goes out on the coldest day of the year and the landlord seemed to be overrun with maintenance requests. Calling Tony to help him out seemed like the next logical solution. After all, he had told him many, many times that he should call him if he ever needed anything.  The man had never really specified what 'anything' meant but he figured that by definition, 'I'm cold and you know how to fix things.', fell into that category. Right?

Secret Sugarplum Spiderling [2020]

Peter has been taking ballet for nearly as long as he can remember and all of his hard work has finally paid off. He's been cast as the Cavelier to the Sugarplum Fairy in his Performing Arts School's production of The Nutcracker. It's a big deal and it's going to take up a good bit of time but... he's just not sure he's ready for his mentor to know about that particular hobby just yet. He's sure it'll be fine ... All he has to do is show up at the studio on time, keep his grades up, make sure to see Tony on a regular enough basis that he doesn't worry and try to squeeze in some patrolling in between. It's that simple. Right?

Holiday Traditions [2021]

When a brief misunderstanding leaves Morgan thinking that Peter doesn’t like Christmas, Peter decides that it would be fun to teach her more about Hanukkah. In order to do so, he and May invite the Starks' to share in some of their holiday traditions.[This story is part of a post-Endgame AU. However, it can easily be read on it's own!]

Well, Merry Sickmas, I Guess [2021]

Peter is sick, Christmas is right around the corner and May had no idea how to help him. Naturally they end up in Tony’s medbay. It doesn’t take long for Peter to be diagnosed with nothing more than some mild dehydration and a nasty stomach bug. However, knowing she can’t take Peter to just any hospital should things go downhill, leaves May feeling a little nervous. …And that’s how Peter and May end up spending the holiday with Tony Stark in his Penthouse apartment. [12/14] Now featuring a short and completely unplanned Bruce Banner centric chapter 2!

Merry Stitchamas  [2022]

All Peter wanted to was to cook May a really nice dinner for when she got home from her Christmas Eve shift. He'd thought it out and was excited to put it all together-- until the knife slipped and he accidentally cut his thumb. The good news is, he knows exactly who to call.

“Hey, Mr. Stark!” Peter greeted with as much enthusiasm as he could pull together given the circumstances. “I, uh, I know it’s Christmas Eve and all, but can I ask you a really quick question?”

Calm Still Night  [2022]

Just a quick fic about Tony enjoying the Penthouse's warm Christmasy atmosphere with Peter by his side.

Seeing is Believing  [2022]

Young Peter Parker, who has started doubting the existence of Christmas Magic, is given the opportunity to board a train heading for the North Pole. The entire night is one big adventure as he meets new friends, makes some spontaneous decisions, and has the best, most magical time of his life. [This fic is based on the film version of The Polar Express. However, you don't have to have seen the movie to enjoy the story!]

Snow-cation [2023]

After Tony's elaborate family winter getaway plans are grounded due to the early arrival of some snow, Peter does his best to make sure everyone still has a good time. Especially Tony, who seems more than a little put out by the disruption.

Toasty Warm  [2023]

Peter comes to the tower after a night of patrolling in the cold- with a broken heater. Tony helps him warm up, with hot cocoa and warm blankets, and a hoodie straight from the dryer.

🆕 Best Night Ever  [2023]

Peter’s been promised a night of ice skating. At first, things didn't go quite as he planned. But in a joyful turn of events, he ends up having a night filled with unexpected surprises, a walk in the snow, the promised ice skating adventure and several heartwarming moments. It all wraps up with a few holiday treats and a lot of family bonding.

✨Coming Soon! ✨

Santa Impersonator Happy [Dec. 14th 2023]

Happy walks into the F.E.A.S.T. building prepared to drop off a check and leave. Then Peter uses his big brown eyes to convince him to stay and help out. He just wished he'd asked a few more questions before agreeing.

"Santa. You want me to dress up as- Santa?

How Spidey Saved Christmas [Dedc. 20th 2023]

After rescuing a few stolen shopping bags, Spider-Man stumbles upon Santa Claus and his damaged sleigh in Central Park. With Tony's help, Peter is able to get Santa back in the air, thus saving Christmas. As an added bonus, he’s able to get Tony back the nice list as well. Santa thanks Peter by inviting him to assist in delivering some gifts Including the ones he’d saved! Together, they fly through the night, spreading holiday cheer. "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

[soupandtissues]

 A Cold for Three

Fluffy fic for Loki, Mobius, and Sylvie with some 12 days of Sickmas prompts thrown in for good measure.

A Cold for Three

Sylvie slipped behind the Roxxcart and through a time door into the soft warmth on the other side.  She could have gone to a store that wasn’t in the middle of a hurricane, but nostalgia got the better of her, and she blamed Mobius for letting her go soft.  Still she took out the medicine she’d bought, in flavours she knew they liked just in case, along with at least four boxes of tissues; spreading everything out on the living room table.

“Sylvie, you’re home early,” Loki said, coming out of the kitchen.

“Yeah, Jack let me go early I…ihh’ISSHhiew!”

“Bless you, and you’re wet.”

There was a flash of green as he dried her clothes.

“I stopped off for some supplies and-ahh-and-ahh’AHISShew!”

“You too hmm?”

She looked at him property then, taking in his watery eyes and red nose and sighed.  She had really hoped she’d be the only one.

“You said we were gods, Loki, why do we still have to deal with this?”

He shrugged. “I don’t make the rules of the universe I just keep them running.”

He rubbed at his nose, smiling at the glowing green branches growing in pots and spreading out around the room.

She rolled her eyes and headed to their bedroom. “I’m getting changed.”

Loki went back to the kitchen and checked the pot he had simmering on the stove.  Deeming it ready he ladled the soup into three bowls and set them out on the table as well.  The steam set his nose running though and he quickly opened one of the boxes of tissues and pressed them to his nostrils as they had begun to flare.

“huhh’ESHHHh! IESHUHhh! Ehh..hehh’HEASSUHuhh!”

As he blew his nose Sylvie returned in her pajamas and smiled at the soup.

“Thanks for doing this, but I still can’t believe you took up cooking, Loki.”

“I have to keep my skills sharp,” he answered, spinning a small blade in his palm before vanishing his daggers once more.

“And make terrible puns.”

“A bad influence of the folksy dope I’m afraid.”

“I heard that.”

They turned as Mobius came in and the familiar orange door faded behind him.

“Uhh’URSSHhuh! MMPSHHShuh!”

Mobius stumbled with the force of the sneezes, barely catching them against his sleeve.  Loki held him by the elbow and Sylvie took the tray he had been carrying.

“Ugh, who do we get to blame for this?” he asked, his voice thick with congestion.

“I’m blaming Brad.” Sylvie declared.

“Works for me,” Mobius said, as Sylvie set down the tray of take-out cups among the other items. “I brought tea for you two too.”

“Thank you.”

With all the necessary comforts accounted for the three of them settled in on the couch under a soft green blanket.  Sylvie began flipping through channels, everything was available after all. Meanwhile Mobius began talking about his day and a file to check later for a possible Kang variant.

Loki sniffled, letting the moment wash over him. He put an arm around each of them and held them close and knew that even ill as they were he could want for nothing more.

[whumphoarder]

Do you have a section for Christmas fics in your rec post list?

I don’t yet, so let me remedy that :D

Disaster Christmas: an Avengers Team 5+1 by @awesomesockes​ & @whumphoarder​

Five times the Avengers experience Christmas-related misfortune and Dr. Banner gets to show off his nursing skills + the one time everyone is miserable together.

Candle in the Window by @madasthesea​

Finals are over and Peter just wants to go home. The weather has other ideas.

12 Days of Irondad & Spideyson Christmas by @ciaconnaa​

12 individual Christmas-themed stories!

An Unwanted Christmas Gift by @whimsicalethnographies​

Tony Stark hates Christmas, Peter and Pepper love Christmas, May has to work, and everyone gets norovirus.

That's it. That's the story.

Eggnog and Tums and a Stairlift and Too Much Pie by @whimsicalethnographies​

“Okay, they’re gone…”

Peter looks up from his spot on the floor, where he’s dutifully cutting out snowflakes to add to Morgan’s collection. Mr. Stark is in his chair at the window, where he’s been since Happy ushered May and Pepper out the door ten minutes ago.

“...now’s our chance to be bad.”

Where the Lovelight Gleams by sahiya

“Hi,” Peter said weakly, looking up at Steve from where he was curled on his side in the bed––more or less the same position he’d been in since he’d arrived home from MIT, three days earlier, and quarantined himself because he didn’t want to expose Tony’s weak lungs and lousy immune system to his “finals week hell-flu.”

Steve appreciated the gesture, but at this point it was clearly doing more harm than good.

Cursed Christmas by sahiya

A series of unfortunate events befalls Tony, Pepper, Peter, and Morgan (and Happy and May) in the week leading up to Christmas.

It'd be kind of funny if it didn't totally suck. Fortunately, they've got good back-up.

5 Times Peter Wrapped Something With His Webs by jessicagoddamnjones

+ 1 time he didn’t.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas by @frostysunflowers​

''S’it bad?'' Peter asks weakly.

''Hard to say,'' Tony admits, hooking a thumb beneath the gunky locks of hair and gently lifting them away. ''You know what head wounds are like. They’re the drama queens of injuries.''

Peter moans and burrows himself into Tony’s chest. ''Did I fall over?''

''Something like that, kid,'' Tony sighs, letting his forehead drop into Peter’s damp hair, allowing his nerves a moment to settle. ''C’mon, let’s get you fixed up.''

Night(mare) Before Christmas by Desirexwolf 

Christmas had always been a quiet affair for the Parkers and when Peter met Tony Stark, he didn't think anything would change about that. Tony proves him wrong.

Home for Christmas by katierosefun

Or: four times Tony Stark and Peter Parker spent Christmas away from home or were late for Christmas, and the one time they finally managed to get home for Christmas together.

Stocking S(t)uffers by HiddenSt0rms

It’s not uncommon to have a sore throat in the wintertime, especially in a crowded place like Queens. It’s also not uncommon for said sore throat to turn out to be strep. But what is uncommon is for this to be the seventh throat problem this year.

Leave it to Peter’s luck to need his tonsils out right before Christmas.

Or: Tony knows just what to get Peter for Christmas following his tonsillectomy.

Merry Sickmas by @goldenavenger02​

"That sounds like pneumonia, Tony. Pretty sure it's viral if he's been sick since he got there." Bruce explained while adjusting the glasses on his face.

"He didn't start showing symptoms till last night, but knowing him, he probably has been hiding it since yesterday afternoon, minimum."

Air I Breathe by heartofcathedrals

Peter gets sick with pneumonia right before Christmas and May’s on a business trip, which leaves Tony in Dad Mode.

[tntgirl1]

12 Days of Sickmas

On the 1st day of Sickmas my doctor gave to me a diagnosis with too many syllables.

On the second day of Sickmas my doctor gave to me 2 swollen tonsils, and a diagnosis with too many syllables.

On the third day of Sickmas my doctor gave to me three pages of at home care, two swollen tonsils and a diagnosis with too many syllables.

On the fourth day of Sickmas my doctor gave to me four foul tasting medicines, three pages of at home care, two swollen tonsils and a diagnosis with too many syllables.

On the fifth day of Sickmas my doctor gave to me five fugal attempts to eat, four foul tasting medicines, three pages of at home care, two swollen tonsils and a diagnosis with too many syllables.

On the sixth day of Sickmas my doctor gave to me six consecutive sneezes, five fugal attempts to eat, four foul tasting medicines, three pages of at home care, two swollen tonsils and a diagnosis with too many syllables.

On the seventh day of Sickmas my doctor gave to me seven flavorless soups, six consecutive sneezes, five fugal attempts to eat, four foul tasting medicines, three pages of at home care, two swollen tonsils and a diagnosis with too many syllables.

On the eighth day of Sickmas my doctor gave to me eight lengthy naps, seven flavorless soups, six consecutive sneezes, five fugal attempts to eat, four foul tasting medicines, three pages of at home care, two swollen tonsils and a diagnosis with too many syllables.

On the ninth day of Sickmas my doctor gave to me nine new symptoms, eight lengthy naps, seven flavorless soups, six consecutive sneezes, five fugal attempts to eat, four foul tasting medicines, three pages of at home care, two swollen tonsils and a diagnosis with too many syllables.

On the tenth day of Sickmas my doctor gave to me ten seasons in with no more new episodes, nine new symptoms, eight lengthy naps, seven flavorless soups, six consecutive sneezes, five fugal attempts to eat, four foul tasting medicines, three pages of at home care, two swollen tonsils and a diagnosis with too many syllables.

On the eleventh day of Sickmas my doctor gave to me eleven empty boxes of tissues, ten seasons in with no more new episodes, nine new symptoms, eight lengthy naps, seven flavorless soups, six consecutive sneezes, five fugal attempts to eat, four foul tasting medicines, three pages of at home care, two swollen tonsils and a diagnosis with too many syllables.

On the twelfth day of Sickmas my doctor gave to me twelve total work hours, eleven empty boxes of tissues, ten seasons in with no more new episodes, nine new symptoms, eight lengthy naps, seven flavorless soups, six consecutive sneezes, five fugal attempts to eat, four foul tasting medicines, three pages of at home care, two swollen tonsils and a diagnosis with too many syllables.

[your-life-is-a-joke]

HAPPY SICKMASS!!