#Not a lot of snz here

[glitterrosesnzz]

good afternoon i am here to drop off an extensive list of h/azbin snz 'prompts' directly from my Notes, cause i had to cut a TON of stuff out of my list of things to write (it was getting far too long) but i still felt like these Deserved to be seen and ive seen a few other people put up prompt lists so-

long explanatory ramble aside boom here's the list;

A/lastor, as we all know, HATES modern technology. what if... there was another reason he despises flash photography... (aka, photosensitive!A/lastor).

this is less of a prompt and moreso something i think would be neat to see... mayhaps, some S/era snzfic?? idk, i think there's potential there

L/ucifer being sick during one of the meetings at hell's Heaven Embassy.

V/ox vs A/lastor vs A/dam vs L/ucifer. i don't actually remember what this prompt was about i just think the four of them arguing ft. some kind of snzkink stuff going on would be really fun. bonus if at the start A/lastor and L/ucifer are arguing while V/ox and A/dam are Teamed Up, and then by the end A/lastor and L/ucifer are teamed up while V/ox and A/dam are arguing-

Initially, after falling, L/ucifer was allergic to more sinful/demonic stuff. As time went on these allergies faded, and he ended up developing allergies to more holy stuff. The existential/identity crisis he went through when this started to happen was intense. ft. L/ucifer sneezing fire for the first time and scaring the hell out of both himself and L/ilith

C/harlie was given some sort of allergy pills before leaving to Heaven, so that she wouldn't be bothered by all the holy stuff there. V/aggie didn't take any cause she believed she wouldn't need them. This was a mistake.

A/lastor with a dog allergy. C/harlie brings a hellhound (or something like that?) to the hotel. I don't think this one requires any further elaboration.

L/ucifer constantly wears this apple scented perfume/cologne for the Vibes. he's secretly mildly allergic/sensitive to it. (as in, it'll set him off when recently sprayed, but it's fine once it's Been a Bit. this usually adds an hour (or more) to his morning routine).

what. what if messing with A/lastor's shadow could make A/lastor himself sneeze. like as in, if A/lastor's shadow went over a dusty shelf or something, it'd make the shadow sneeze, which would then make A/lastor sneeze??? idk i just think it could be fun

idk why the idea of A/ngel Dust, H/usk, and C/herri bringing L/ucifer to a club only for him to either be a) hiding that he's sick or b) allergic to the drinks/a sneezy drunk (or whatever you call it?) is so fun to me but it IS

C/herri should be allergic/sensitive to smoke i think. i think that'd be really fun.

this one's just cause i think it's a funny scenario but; L/ucifer outright being allergic to soul deals-

A/ngel and H/usk feel the most like caretakers to me, so whenever they get sick, especially if it's at the same time, everything dissolves into chaos from everyone else trying to look after them

[vocalhitches]

this pic of ch0/so from the season 1 art book where he looks so extremely sickly/allergic 👀

[nobodybetterlookatme]

Would've posted the last update yesterday but I basically collapsed into bed the moment I got home, so y'all can have it now lmao. I managed to hold it together until around 9pm, at which point I'd been working for over 12 hours at that point, so I think I did pretty good. Supervisor hit us on the radio to tell us it looked like we wouldn't be done til past midnight, and we were supposed to be out of there by 10pm, so that was the last straw for me bc I just wanted to go home and I mumbled something about going to the bathroom so I could cry for a minute. Came back, apparently that was also the last straw for my partner who evidently knew literally the entire time bc dude fucking goes "so do you wanna talk or are we just gonna keep pretending you haven't been feeling like shit all day", I tried to downplay it, it didn't work obviously, he looked at me like 😒, you hate to see it. He wanted to make sure I wasn't actually gonna become a patient so he did a quick assessment, my vitals were ✨ abnormal ✨ which was fun. We didn't have to do much else work related the rest of the shift so it was nice to just vibe for a bit. Finally got to leave, partner didn't trust me to drive myself home that late while I was still running a fever so he drove me home, we got food on the way back, I showered, then immediately went to sleep after crying a little but bc everything hurt so bad lmao

[waterfallofspace]

i’ve missed seeing you on my timeline so much and i was just thinking of you so i wanted to pop in and say i hope you’re doing okay and taking care of yourself <3

omg thank you so much!!! 😭💗🫂 real life has been getting in the way a bit, but i've been checking in when i can, and always happy to see your (picrew ;3) face around!~

aghaihgahugh i don't really know what to say other than this is so sweet, and I miss getting to interact more too!~

Hopefully in a few days life is gonna calm down again, but as for now!! I hope you're taking care of yourself too, I know it's been so hard for you, and I really hope it starts to get easier <3 You're such a ray of light, you deserve so many good things~ 🫂🫂

[sneezydarliing]

hello!! i haven’t interacted with your blog much but i just rolled in from the last tigh//nari post you wrote (so good!) and saw you might be looking for requests? i’m still really nervous asking and not sure what i’m doing so no offense taken if you disregard!

anyway, i’d love to read some cy/no content? if you’re along w any ships (cynari, haino, etc) that’s totally cool. maybe like a [plant/flower] allergy situation when he visits the forest?

hope you’re well and thanks for sharing content <3

Thank you so much for the req!! I'm sorry for the wait, I really hope you enjoy!

reqs are open

Pairing: cynari

Words: 1044

CW/TW: sneezing content, mention of mess

Cyno had not anticipated anything special out of this trip to the forest. He was going only to see Tighnari- who had excitedly informed him of a new discovery made deep into the forest watcher’s patrolling area. The look on his friend’s face, combined with the eager swishing of his tail behind him, was more than enough convincing to get the mahamntra to venture into the greenery.

It’s quiet as he pads along the roughly and hastily made trail, leaving him with his own thoughts- excitement to see tighnari again, listen to him ramble on about whatever he had found, a slight apprehension at the possibility of this being dangerous- not that either of them could not hold their own, but tighnari was often so eager to research that he did not stop to think about any possible consequences to himself, and he hated seeing him in pain. Muddled in with these feelings, a slight but sudden itch in the back of his nose. He presses a knuckle against the side of it absentmindedly, just as a pair of ears perking up quickly catches his attention.

“You made it!” Tighnari calls out to him, tredging through ankle-deep tangles of weeds to meet him. There’s a smudge of dirt on his cheek, and a tangle in his usual well-kept tail. As Cyno nods his greeting, he cannot help but wonder how long he’s been out here. The other seems to be aware of it, occasionally flicking the appendage about in absent-minded frustration.

Tighnari leads him further into the forest, happily rambling on about the things they pass by and what his research has granted so far. Cyno can’t get himself to focus, the itch in his sinus suddenly alight, forcing his breath to hitch just once before calming again. He can almost feel Tighnari’s concerned frown, but he decides to keep quiet about it for now, to Cyno’s gratitude.

Suddenly, he’s stopped. Tighnari moves to the side, looking at Cyno with pride clear in his eyes. He’s meet with the sight of a large, blooming flower, encased in golden vines that seem almost-conscious, twitching at any movement around them. “I haven’t been able to touch it yet, and my elemental attacks have no effect. That’s why I brought you out here, I was hoping maybe electrical- Cyno?” His ramblings cease as he catches sight of him, hands cupped loosely in front of his face, usually serious expression crumpled into one of desperation as he fights off the need uselessly, breath stuttering until he can no longer fight it.

‘hEh-itSH! ‘tShi! hiH-” The third one is lost, leaving him sniffling, trying to rub the irritation out of his sinuses. “Archons, bless you! Are you feeling alright?” Cyno sniffles uselessly again, trying to will some of the congestion out of his voice before he speaks.

“I’m fine. You can romaine calm.” Tighnari groans in response. “You must be, if you’ve got the energy to make jokes. Anyways, can you try to hit ones of the vines with your elemental attack? Be gentle, please, and don’t damage the plant itself.” Cyno nods, saluting in a ‘yes sir’ gesture, as he prepares to follow instructions. He presses the back of his hand to his nose, scrunching up the appendage as he aims carefully. But he was unable to fight against his body and control it at once, sent foreward with another flurry of sneezes the moment he releases the energy, causing it to be sent foreward towards the flower. It’s reaction was instant, sending out a shower of pollen before curling into a ball, vines wound around it tightly. Cyno faintly hears a noise of frustration come from Tighnari, but he can’t focus, paralyzed with the awful tickle that came as the pollen surrounded him. He was in the direct line of fire, and he felt it, nostrils feeling alight as his eyes watered, he couldn’t even fight it, thrown into a desperate fit.

“haH’TSCHhi- KSHhiew! hih- hidT’SHHih! ‘idtSHhiew- sCHih!” They tore at his throat, raw and painful as his body tried desperately to release all of the pollen. He felt almost embarrassed, unable to do anything as Tighnari watched helplessly. “tignarihHh-tSHhi!” Even just his name seemed to break his stupor, the fox-tailed man rushing over and grabbing Cyno’s arm, bringing him somewhere- he could not even keep his eyes open long enough to tell, the lower half of his face buried in an arm he threw up to avoid spraying the other. He felt himself be gently led into a sitting position, half aware of the sun now beaming down on them.

His breath caught, leaving him helpless into a rough fit of coughing that didn’t seem to let him. He felt Tighnari’s hand on his back, rubbing comforting circles as he whispered encouraging phrases until the coughing finally let up. He leaned back against Tighnari, unable to resist the need to catch his breath. His face was wet with tears, nose running onto his upper lip. He roughly cleaned it up with the back of his wrist.

“There you go, you’re okay. Any trouble breathing?” Came the soft voice next to Cyno, reminding him suddenly of his blunder. Tighnari had been so eager to research, and he had messed it up. Guilt shot through him. “Sorry, ‘nari.” He pawed at his nose again while he spoke.

“It’s alright. I can bring somebody else another day.” Tighnari soothed, hands beginning to card through the others' hair. “Right now, we need to get you cleaned up. The pollen on your clothes won’t do you any good.” he stood quickly, reaching out a hand to Cyno, but he was distracted with the need to sneeze once again, raising a shaky hand in warning.

“hIh’tSChih!i’tsCHuh!” He sniffled once more as Tighnari waited patiently, before taking the hand offered to him, letting himself be pulled onto his feet.

“Hey, ‘Nari?” The forest watcher turned back to face him, “What is it?” “I’m very frond of you.” Tighnari huffed, turning back around and beginning to stalk off, stopping only a few paces in front of him. “I love you, too, Cyno.” Mahamatra grinned, catching up to his partner as they began the trek home, punctuated with the occasional sneezes.

[koreofitall]

You're such a fabulous presence on snzblr! You're so supportive and kind and thoughful, and I always love reading your takes on things. A wonderful presence here, and you're super appreciated. <3

YOU'RE super appreciated, Anon!

I feel like I could take on the world right now, thank you so much 💚

[sunflowersniffles]

Imagine someone laying under a weighted blanket and not being able to move their arm out from under it fast enough to cover their sneeze. So they just kinda sneeze out in the open and all over themself

[slightlyunconventional]

AND DUSTY LIBRARIES ABD HERBAL TEA

guess who wrote two fics in possibly less than 24h 🤯🤯🤯

here's another b/ucky fic cause i adore him!! i used the ask for this prompt since i already wrote herbal tea here

here we go!! prompt: dusty libraries

Bucky and Steve had decided to spend an autumn morning in the library, picking out books from Sam's "Sh*t You Missed Out On In The Ice (For 70 Years)" list.

Bucky squints at the paper, taking in names and titles he's never even heard of. He looks back up at Steve, who's perusing the books on the shelf before him, head tilted to one side to read the titles down the spines. Cute, Bucky thinks. He hands the list back to Steve, who looks up from the book he's browsing with a smile.

"Which one's that?" Bucky asks, peering over the edge at the pages.

"Called 'To Kill A Mockingbird'. Sam told me it's a favourite of his."

"Sounds morbid," Bucky remarks with a smirk, "I'll leave that one to you, Captain America." He leans up and plants a kiss on Steve's cheek. "I'm going over there," he adds, gesturing at an emptier corner of the library, shelves packed with books that looked much older than the ones in front of him. Steve nods and continues flicking through his novel.

Bucky arrives at his destination. Before him are rows and rows of old, worn books, some bound with leather, some with gold and silver trimmings. They're pretty. He selects a volume from the shelf and runs his hands over the smooth cover. He flips the cover open, and starts to thumb through the pages. A cloud of fine dust rises from within the paper, causing Bucky to waft his hand in front of his face in an attempt to fan away the irritant.

"-hih'NNGXT!"

His efforts are to no avail, for he finds himself stifling a sneeze into near-silence between thumb and forefinger. With a shaky exhale, he lifts his head from his hand but is taken aback by another outburst, given no time to even consider suppressing it -

"hah'tSHHIEW! Huh.."

He feels a familiar hand on his shoulder, and is met with Steve has he looks around.

"What's got you all worked up?" Steve says, teasingly.

"It's thehh- the duuhHh'iHXTSHiew! - sorry." A vicious half-stifle into his sleeve. "The dust, I think," finishes Bucky, followed by a series of itchy sniffles.

Steve's eyes land on the thick book still sitting in Bucky's hand.

"I might start with putting that book back, if I were you," he says, gently taking the novel from his boyfriend, sliding it back into its place on the shelf. Steve takes Bucky by the shoulders and turns him away from the bookshelves.

"Do you wanna-"

"eh'HISSCHHU! G-god, sorrhuH'TSSHIEW! -sorry-! 'SSCHIEW!"

"Bless you, love. Might be best we head out, yeah?"

Bucky begins to nod, but appears to second guess himself.

"What about your books?" he asks, every other word punctuated with a pathetic sniffle.

"That can wait. We'll come back some other time, just don't tell Sam." Steve adds the last part with a wink before taking Bucky's hand and leading them both toward the exit.

"Hold on- huh'sSCHIEW!"

"Bless you," Steve says with a smile.

[glitterrosesnzz]

im tired but i have arrived to present two concepts that i just remembered from an anime i watched as a teen that drove me nuts for a good week;

devil flu, basically just a normal flu (but slightly worse) EXCEPT the only way to get rid of it is to infect as many other people as possible. this one's for the contagion enjoyers methinks.

reaper flu, this is the one that made me lose my mind cause. again normal flu BUT. when they sneeze it summons this giant scythe that will cut through everything in front of it (include face masks- literally it sliced a face mask clean in half), and will also just. obviously kill a human instantly by reaping their soul.

anyways take these and have fun with them i guess

[kawaii-kushami]

We know about the hetalia art 👀

[nobodybetterlookatme]

Actually obsessed with my new coworker at the farm ajdkalsl

[waterfallofspace]

57 and 68 for either s/hin soukoku or All Might? Okay there's one more coming and then I swear I'm done

Another thank you for the ask!!! I've been having such a good time with these, you have no idea, hahaha~~ I chose S/hin S/oukoku because it sparked an idea for how it might go down, but I’d be more than happy to do something for A/ll M/ight too if you’d like <3 (I just… the idea of tormenting A/kutagawa was too good to pass up hehehe~) Another first time writing characters, so I hope it’s enjoyable, or at least tolerable!  2.2k words, prompts 57 and 68, story under cut! 57. “Stop telling me you’re okay.”  68. Sparring/training and coughing/sneezing. (References to slightly high fever and violence, they're sparring so there's attacks from both of them, though it's mostly from A/kutagawa. Nothing graphic is mentioned, but there are definitely implications, so just in case anyone doesn't like that!)

~~~~~~~

‘By all accounts, Akutagawa is dying right before my eyes.’ 

Atsushi watches his sparring partner aim yet another attack, pausing to lean into his hand with a cough that leaves both of them winded. ‘He sounds rough… I’ve noticed he coughs a lot on a good day, he must have weak lungs. Oh- that can’t be a good match for a chest cold…’ 

“Maybe we should take a brea-ouuf!”

He’s cut off by another blow to the chest, Akutagawa’s eyes burning straight into his soul. The ferocity is dampened by the hand Akutagawa raises to his mouth, ducking away with another cough that nearly brings him to his knees. Managing to subdue it enough to speak, Akutagawa resumes his glaring.

“We will do no such thing. Dazai has personally asked me to train you, so that is what I shall do. ah’GSh’kieu-!”

“A- are you sure you’re up for- hey!”

This time he manages to dodge, rolling across the alley as Rashōmon grazes his arm. ‘He’s still able to put up a pretty good offense, despite being so sick. His defense though… whenever he has to duck away to relieve his lungs or sinuses he’s vulnerable. B- but… that feels unfair to take advantage of…’

“Tired alr- heh’enSH’kiue-! already, weretiger? We’ve barely begun.”

“I’m fine, Akutagawa.”

“And what is that suppo- eh’DSHhh’kuu-! supposed to mean?” 

“Oh I wonder. Come on, you’re sick. You can’t go-”

“hh’gSHh’kieu-!”

“-a few minutes without sneezing.” 

Atsushi can’t hide the giggle spilling from his lips at the adorable nature of Akutagawa’s sneezes, jumping to the side as another blow lazily misses him. ‘His movements are getting slower. I was late on my reaction, unfocused, he should have been easily able to hit me.’ 

“ah’knshh-nNShh’kiew-!”

“Bless-”

“Don’t. Just because Dazai picked- gshhh’kuu-! that up doesn’t mean you need to follow suit.”

“Uh- aren’t you the one who practically worships him..?”

“I want him to notice my strength. I do not want to become him. Besides, he only started- hh’enDSHhh’kieeu-! using that particular expression to torment particular members of- eh’nnNSHh’kiu-! the port mafia.” 

Each sneeze seems to shake his entire body, Atsushi barely resisting the urge to grab his arm as Akutagawa trembles from the force. ‘They’re pretty tiny noises, and yet they seem to take so much out of him. He’s gotta be sicker than he’s letting on. Maybe I can use Dazai as a way to get him to admit it…’ 

“Oh, I actually didn’t know that! It seems you know Dazai pretty well, huh?” 

“Enough talking. Rashōmon, Agito!”

This time Atsushi doesn’t even have to dodge, another cough shaking Akutagawa enough to have the jaw crash into the ground before it can reach its target. Atsushi responds with an assault of his own, letting his claws form on one hand as he lunges. Akutagawa’s barely able to block, only succeeding since his Rashōmon blocks by instinct.

“After that, you’re still claiming you’re fit to train?” 

“hieSHhh’keew-! gNNSHhh’kuu-!”

“Bless you!”

“I thought I told you not to do that.”

A light warmth bathes Atsushi’s face as he offers a sheepish smile, eyes closing as his cheeks raise. At the sound of Akutagawa coughing again, he reopens them, starting to ramble to give Akutagawa a bit of privacy to rid his lungs of the irritation.

“Sorry, it’s become a bit of a habit. We all say it in the agency now! I actually think Dazai started saying it to tease Kunikida, but then Kenji latched on, and now even Ranpo will use it at time-”

“What exactly gives you the impression that I care, weretiger?”

“N- nothing I guess, sorry- I ju-”

“Tsk. Focus on the battle. If you drop your guard like that the enemy can easily- aH’DnGshh’kiew-!”

Laughter bubbles up through Atsushi’s throat before he can muffle it, Akutagawa responding with Rashōmon. Unable to dodge in time, Atsushi finds the jaw latching onto his leg, a wound that would be serious on most anyone else. ‘He knows my healing will take care of it. If he wanted me dead he’d aim for the throat. B- but… I can’t tell if he’s going easy because Dazai asked him to train me, or because of-’

“hH’INdgT’kiew-!”

“That sounded like it hurt.”

“dNgZSh’kiew-! It did not.” 

“The wincing would suggest otherwise.”

“hheHh-! N- no. I am simpl- eh’geXGT’kiew-! simply growing tired of these interruptions.” 

Akutagawa’s hand is clenched against his face, pinching his nose shut as each ‘interruption’ grows in force. ‘It’s almost hurting me to watch him do this, they sound utterly unsatisfying.’ Atsushi finds himself thinking, eyes darting down to the tremble in Akutagawa’s legs once more. 

“hH’eNXGT’kieuu-!”

“That can’t be helping-”

“Rashōmon, Sawarabi!”

Climbing the wall of the building to his left, Atsushi manages to dodge the spikes rising from the floor where he once stood. ‘Alright, alright, I get the message! Focus on the training. Maybe… maybe I can use this to get him to admit he’s sick…’ Another attack has him springing back to the ground, his paw managing to grab the cloth before it can strike once more. Akutagawa is too busy shuddering into his hand with another fit of coughing to interfere.

“If I pin you, will you finally call it for the day and go rest?”

“Even if I was in a weakened state, you wouldn’t stand a chance, weretiger.”

Akutagawa attempts a huff, a cough spilling out in its place, Atsushi finding himself unable to prevent the wince from scraping through his clenched teeth.

“I- I mean, at least you’re admittin-”

“I said if. But that time is n- haHh-! N- not… nohhEht- eH’dSHh’kiew-! hH’eNSChh’kiue-! Hihh… guhh’eSHH’kiuu-!”

“Didn’t quite catch that through the sneezing attack.”

“That time is not tod- hH’eNgT’kiew-! Not today. I am perfectly fine, weretiger. Focus on tr- trahhh… training- aH’GSHh’kuu-! INgT’kiew-! gNNt-eNDT’kuu-!”

Using the lapse in concentration to his advantage, Atsushi throws himself at Akutagawa, easily pinning him to the ground. ‘I didn’t even need my gift to have the strength to hold him… that can’t be good.’ Akutagawa gasps, the force of the impact leaving him panting, prompting another cough to rattle his lungs. Atsushi flinches at the expulsions. ‘His decency’s still intact, even when it comes to me. He’s attempting to aim for his shoulder. I was careful not to crush him, but I might have been a bit roug-’

His thoughts are quickly silenced by Akutagawa’s Rashōmon catching him in the chest, jaws tightening against his arms as the frail man slips back to his feet. The cough hasn’t receded, and a few more sneezes push their way out as he weakly lifts a hand to cover. 

“ihh’geashh’kieu-! Guh… hnn’EShhh’kuu-!” 

A slight wheeze starts to present itself from Akutagawa’s battered lungs, Atsushi prying Rashōmon from his arms with a grimace. ‘That really doesn’t sound good… Screw this! I’ve had it.’

“You know what? No.”

“Wha-”

“Nope, shut up, it’s my turn. Stop telling me you’re okay! You’re clearly not, and it’s starting to feel like an insult to my intelligence for you to keep insisting you are.”

“I see no intelligence to speak of- hnN’GShh’kiew-!”

“Enough, Akutagawa! Training’s over, you need to rest.”

“Rashōmo-” 

The attack is cut short as Akutagawa’s knees give out beneath him, Atsushi’s mouth hanging open as he stumbles forward, catching himself against the wall. ‘D- didn’t see that one coming… maybe he has a fever..? Or maybe I pushed him into the ground a little too hard. I was trying to be gentle bu-’ 

“Weretiger, stop thinking so loudly, you’re g- giehhh… hinNChh’kuu-! giving me a headache.” 

“S- sorry… hey wait- no, I’m not sorry, how is my thinking giving you a headache?!” 

Akutagawa seems to be forming a response, raising himself from the wall to let his glare meet Atsushi’s eyes, just for them to flutter shut as he falls once more. Atsushi finds his body moving on its own, catching Akutagawa before he can hit the floor. The heat radiating from his body causes beads of sweat to form on Atsushi’s face in response as he pulls Akutagawa back to his feet. The man’s eyes snap open, wide with terror as his body flinches away from Atsushi’s touch.

“It’s just me.”

Atsushi keeps his tone low and grip tight. ‘He won’t like that I’m holding him up, but if I let go I think he’ll just fall back on his face… much as he doesn’t believe it, I don’t actually want to watch him die in an alley.’ The panic from Akutagawa’s face slowly starts to fade as his eyes meet Atsushi’s, recognition slowly replacing the feverish haze. Seizing the moment while he has the chance, Atsushi speaks up once more, voice still low, careful not to startle the man in his arms.

“Dazai would be upset if you died here, Akutagawa. It would ruin his plans. And you’re not weak for being sick, you’re human, it’s not exactly like you can help it.”

Deciding to add a little humour, Atsushi lets his eyes crinkle shut with a wide smile, a faint laugh humming out.

“You should hear Dazai if he even has the sniffles! He’ll just mope around the office moaning and whining, it’s frankly hilarious!” 

Clarity returning to his eyes, Akutagawa attempts to stand back up, neither of them mentioning how he needs to cling to Atsushi to do it. He huffs lightly, seeming relieved when the action doesn’t trigger another round of coughing.

“I don’t need your help, weretiger.”

“Whatever you say, Akutagawa.” 

Atsushi lightly chuckles at the grip Akutagawa still has on his shoulder, the weaker man letting another round of sneezes tear from his sinuses. He aims for one of his hands, the other bracing himself against Atsushi as they tremble through him.

“hH’GnSHh’kiew-! eh’nNSHhhh’kuu-! hAHh-! hihhh… hiH’NNChh’kiuee-!”

“Bless you.” 

Akutagawa’s only response is another huff, Atsushi’s eyes meeting his with an unspoken message. ‘I’ve got you.’ He can’t help the smile that spreads down his face as Akutagawa lets his eyes flutter shut, weight shifting onto Atsushi.

They begin the two block journey to the detective agency’s headquarters, Atsushi deciding it’ll be the quickest way to get Akutagawa sleeping. ‘I doubt he’d let me know where he lives, and I’m not exactly eager to bring him back to my place… and if I walked into the port mafia with him like this I’d be shot on site.’ 

“What is he doing here, Atsushi?”

Kunikida’s voice pulls both men out of their trance, Akutagawa quickly detangling himself to lean against the wall. Atsushi flinches, Kunikida and Akutagawa exchanging dark looks as they stand toe to toe.

“Dazai requested him to train me, but I needed a bit of a break! I hope it’s okay we came inside, I just need to grab some water before I continue..?” 

Eyes flicker over to him, Kunikida seeming to evaluate the situation while Akutagawa raises a hand to his face, feigning nonchalance as he brushes it against his nose. Atsushi recognizes the look in his eyes as he attempts to pinch his nose shut subtly. ‘He has to sneeze, but he’s not willing to show that weakness in front of Kunikida.’ 

“Well… I suppose that’s acceptable, just- keep an eye on him, okay kid? I know Dazai asked him to train you, but I don’t trust him here for a minute.”

“The feeling is m-heH… mutual.”

Atsushi picks up the “Or trust Dazai not to make a reckless call to further his own personal gain, the idiot,” Kunikida lets slip under his breath as Akutawaga’s glare hardens, nose twitching beneath his grasp. Electing to ignore the insults, Atsushi offers a nervous smile.

“Thank you, I knew you’d understand, we’ll be out of here in no time, promise!”

With that he grabs Akutagawa’s free arm, dragging the man into another hallway away from prying eyes. Once they’ve gotten far enough he stops, turning to Akutagawa who’s attempting to smother himself against his hand.

“We’re alone now, you can-”

“hEH’GNZSHH’OO-! nNZSHH’UHh-!”

“Oh- bless yo-”

“hH’DSHh’kiew-! eh’nNSHhh’kuu-! hiHh-! hih’nnSHhh’kieu-!”

“Bless you again, Akutagawa.”

“I didn’t ask for your blessings, or your help.” 

Rolling his eyes, Atsushi lets Akutagawa lean against him once more, the fever soaking through his clothes as they keep walking. ‘Would it kill him to say thanks?! Actually- knowing Akutagawa, it just might.’

“I know a back office even Kunikida never goes to. You can sleep there, no one will bother you.” 

Reaching the door, Atsushi pulls it open, revealing a small office complete with boxes, shelves, and a small couch in the corner closest to the entrance. Akutagawa rolls his eyes, growling out a retort as his body seems drawn to the couch by a force he’s unable to avoid.

“I’m not sleeping in th- eh’gSHh’kiew-! this office. I’m not weak like you weretiger. I don’t need to…” 

Akutagawa’s sentence trails off, eyes snapping closed as his head hits the soft leather. Light snores start pouring out, congestion crackling in his chest as he lets out a soft cough in his sleep. Atsushi lets a warm smile creep back onto his face, lightly brushing the hair from Akutawa’s feverish forehead before turning off the light and shutting the door.

“Sleep well, Akutagawa.” 

[sneezydarliing]

Ignore me whining but I've been so like. Depressed lately. I've been doing really good and even stopped seeing my therapist (partially bc I felt we weren't a good match, but this figured in too) but it'd been getting bad again lately and idk what to do

[cinderdust-snz]

me: hmm there aren't enough silent stifles in wavs... there should be more representation!

me, a few minutes later: ..........ohhh maybe there's a reason for that 💀

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Safe (M, cold)

Well, here I am.

It's been a few months since I've written anything in the Elliot's universe, but recently someone asked for a Mark-centric story, and this behemoth is what ensued. Allow me to preface by saying this: Mark is basically my self-insert. This was a very hard story to write. If it sucks, my apologies, hah.

In this, Mark gets sick from Matt and wants to hide it from Elijah. It is significantly more hurt/comfort-slash-sickfic than snzfic, honestly. It starts fairly benign, fluffy, and silly and gets really intense a few pages in. There's a lot of musing, a lot of being inside Mark's head. Idk. I'm not sure if I love it or hate it. This is the first story I've written on here that has taken me a full week to get down, and that I've written and scrapped multiple scenes. It is very long. I really hope you enjoy it if you read it. I'd love to hear your thoughts, but also understand if it's just too long-winded for people to read. Also, there's a real chance of spelling/grammar errors because I just can't look at this monster of a fic any longer, ha.

Anyway. Onward.

CW: Male snz, illness, coughing, contagion. 6K words (almost exactly)

Safe

“Don’t go near them.”

It’s the first thing that hit his ears as he pushed through the swinging kitchen doors; no ‘hi, Mark,’ no, ‘good morning’, just a barked order with absolutely zero context thrown in. Mark whipped his head in the direction of the stern voice of his boss.

“Good morning to you, too,” he muttered, making his way towards the office, where Elijah was stationed, seated, but not doing any computer work. “Who and what are we avoiding?” he asked as he entered.

“The chefs,” Elijah said, moving his chair to let the younger manager in to sit. Mark placed his backpack on the ground, tossed his coat over top of Greyson’s on the second office chair. Waited for further explanation that did not come.

“Okay…” he said, sitting beside his boss. “And we’re not going near them because…?” Mark hadn’t even seen Greyson or Matt yet this morning. The avoiding was being done for him, so what was Elijah’s deal?

Elijah hummed a low disapproval – of what, Mark couldn’t guess – and turned towards his computer. “You’ll see,” he said, shaking his mouse and pulling up an order guide. “Just don’t breathe your boyfriend’s breath, okay?”

Mark colored at the implication; it had only been a couple of months since Matt and Mark had been outed to the restaurant, and the floor manager still wasn’t used to their relationship being casually dropped into conversation. While Elijah busied himself with admin work, Mark stood – time to figure out what the fuck Elijah was on about.

You would think that finding chefs in a kitchen would be a relatively banal business; they’re chefs. They’re cooking. Hardly a moving target – but you’d be wrong. Somehow, the second a front of house manager starts looking for a chef, they become a ghost. They haven’t existed for a thousand years – are you sure this restaurant even has a chef? Mark couldn’t help but ponder how the fuck this hundred-square-foot kitchen somehow became a labyrinthian nightmare the second he wanted to find his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s boss; c’mon, he’d checked the walk-in, the back kitchen, even the dock to see if they were smoking, where the fuck were they?

Maybe Elijah had told the two of them to stay away from Mark and the front of house staff before the floor manager arrived, and they were playing a cat-and-mouse style keep-away game that Mark was unaware of. Or maybe they had gone to the store to pick up chicken or some shit. Either way, Mark was done looking. Elijah said don’t go near them, he thought to himself, heading back towards the front of the kitchen, easy enough.

Of course, it was the moment that Mark decided he was done looking that he quite literally bumped into his boyfriend coming through the kitchen doors.

“Oof,” Matt grunted as they collided. Greyson, not even a step behind him, turned their two-person bump into a three-car-pileup that nearly ended in hot coffee being spilled over all of them.

“Christ, Chef, watch where you’re going,” Matt muttered untangling himself from the middle of the pack.

“Mbe watch where I’mb going?” Greyson asked, wiping his coffee-covered hand on his chef’s pants. “The two of you are practically grinding on each other here and I ndeed to watch where I’mb going?”

Mark clocked it in the chef’s voice immediately – oh. That’s what Elijah meant.

But… he had said both of them… right?

Mark’s head shot up from checking to make sure he didn’t have coffee all over his button-down to look Matt directly in the face – ah. Fuck.

“Hh-! Hh’ITSHZH-ue! HRTSHH-ue!” Matt collapsed to the side to sneeze, seemingly in lieu of responding to Greyson’s dig. “Snf. Fuck off, Chef.” There it was.

“Bless you,” Mark said, attempting not to sound accusatory. Matt just nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. “Sorry.”

Before Mark could respond to the unnecessary apology, Elijah’s voice rang out once again from the office. “Mark, I told you to stay away from them!” The GM stood from his desk chair and strode into the kitchen, physically pushing Mark and Matt away from one another. “Six foot distance,” he said, pointing at both of them. “And you,” he said, addressing his counterpart, “didn’t I tell you to go get some tea and sit the fuck down? We have a big night tonight and I need you conscious, please.”

Greyson rolled his eyes and held up his cup. “I was on mby way to sit when the children starting gyrating on each other in the mbiddle of mby kithcen,” he said. “Don’t put this one on mbe.”

Elijah squeezed the bridge of his nose, frustrated. “First of all,” he said, moving towards Greyson and plucking the cup from his hand, “that isn’t tea.”

“The tea we buy is gross,” Greyson whined. “And I’mb ti – hh! Hh...hhuh-ETSHZH-ue! Snrf, fuck.” Greyson took a moment to collect himself, to wipe his nose on his sleeve and cough – a wet, concerning sound – before finishing his sentence. “I’mb tired,” he said, snatching the cup back.

“Which is why I told you to go sit down,” Elijah said, pressing his palms together and accentuating each word with his hands. “And please do not get my front of house manager sick. I beg, Greyson.”

“Talk to him,” Greyson said, thumbing towards Matt. “I’mb ndot the one with my tongue in Mark’s mbouth twenty-four-seven.”

Mark’s face flamed once again, but Matt, either too sick to care or beyond the embarrassment that was a public relationship in the work place, just rolled his eyes.

“Jealous, much?” Matt asked under his breath. Greyson shot daggers with a glance at his sous, and Mark decided it was probably time to step in.

“Listen, how about I go grab the two of you some medicine from down the street, you both take a rest, and then by the time the meds have kicked in, everyone should be good for service.” Mark looked to Elijah for his blessing; his boss was obviously mulling it over, considering. “And this way, I’ll be out of the metaphorical splash zone,” he finished, which finally prompted a nod from Elijah.

“Okay,” his boss said. “Good idea, Mark. You two – come with me.”

The GM led the two chefs back into the dining room to lay in the back booth while Mark let out a sigh. He was happy, of course, to be out of the fight, to have seemingly calmed everyone down, and to have put his boss’s mind at ease.

Unfortunately, he was fairly sure that – despite Elijah’s eased mind – it was already too late for keeping himself away from the newest restaurant pestilence.

***

“Elijah is going to kill me, Matt.”

“Oh, please, he is ndo – ITSZCHH-ue! ndot,” Matt said, swiping the bottle of Dayquil from Mark’s hand and chugging it. “You gonna sit?” he asked, sniffling and patting the milk crate beside him and shivering. Mark sighed.

“I’m not gonna sit, because Elijah is going to kill me even more if he sees me sitting right next to you.”

“I’mb gonna go out on a limb here and say that’s ndot possible,” Matt said, dissolving at the end of his sentence into a chesty cough.

“You’re coughing now, too?” Mark asked, worry about Elijah’s anger usurped very suddenly by concern for his boyfriend. Mark placed a hand to Matt’s head. “Oh, honey.”

“Sorry,” Matt said, not bothering to move Mark’s hand. Mark huffed out a little laugh.

“Don’t apologize for being sick. Please,” he said, moving his hand to cup Matt’s cheek. “Even if Elijah might kill us both.”

Matt smiled, pressed his face harder into Mark’s hand. “You might ndot get sick. You ndever know,” he muttered, eyes closing as Mark held his head up.

“Matt,” Mark laughed, “I mean… I don’t think that’s, uh, possible after last night.” Matt’s eyes blinked open at the mention of it, and a little smile flitted across his lips.

The apartment had been quiet.

“Matt?” Mark called as he stepped inside. “Babe, are you home?”

He strained his ears; the shower was on. Mark had an idea.

He tiptoed across the cold apartment floor, quietly stripping as he went; by the time he got to the bathroom door, he was nude as the day he was born. The bathroom door wasn’t closed all the way, so he pushed inside silently and pulled back the curtain.

A fact about Matt that shocked Mark more than anything was that the man did not get scared. He had yawned through their first haunted house together; he fell asleep during the Terrifier movies, for Christ’s sake. So Mark was unsurprised when, instead of screaming bloody murder the way he would’ve if Matt snuck up on his in the shower, his boyfriend simply turned away from the spray and smiled.

“You’re early,” he murmured, ushering Mark in.

“I came right from the gym,” Mark said, wrapping his arms around the shorter man. “I wanted to see you.”

“Mmmm,” Matt hummed, pressing himself into Mark’s arms. “That’s nice, baby.”

They stood that way for a few minutes, until Mark tipped Matt’s chin up towards his face. “I wanted to see you,” he said, pressing his lips onto Matt’s neck, “but I also wanted to… do things. With you.”

Matt’s breath caught in the back of his throat. “Yeah?” he asked, voice low. “Like what?”

Mark stood back to his full height, and pushed Matt against the shower wall. “Let me show you.”

“Fair enough,” Matt said now, lifting his head. “But, I mbean, are you feeling okay right ndow?”

He was, for the moment. But, Matt had seemed alright last night, and clearly he’d already been on the trajectory towards ill – despite that fact that he had been very good at hiding it. Whatever he and his boss had picked up was certainly quick to come on.

“I’m fine, baby, don’t worry about me,” Mark said, rummaging through the drug store bag to hand Matt, who’d fallen into another paroxysm of coughing, the Robitussin. “I’m more worried about you than anything.”

Matt snapped the top off and chugged this medicine as well, seemingly without any concern about mixing two medications. “Babe, it’ll be fine. I kndow Elijah is worried about getting through the weekend, but it’s ndot like any of us haven’t worked with a cold before.” He shrugged then, handed Mark the medicine, and stood. Mark stood as well, and once again cupped Matt’s hot face – this time with both hands.

“Please just take it a little bit easy tonight, okay?” Mark said. “I know Greyson is sick, too, but don’t try to do too much. We don’t need another moment like a few months ago.”

“And to think I’d just forgotten about that,” Matt said, going on tiptoe to kiss his boyfriend. “I’ll be okay.” Mark kissed him back, a little longer than was maybe necessary; long enough that neither of them heard the back door open until it was too late.

“Mark, what the fuck are you doing?”

Oh, fuck.

Elijah.

***

By the end of the night, Greyson and Matt were shadows of their former selves.

“Hh-! Hhhuh… hhNGTSHH-ue! HRTSHH! ETSZCH-ue! Fuuuck mbe,” Greyson muttered as he wrenched into the sleeve of his hoodie – chef coats had been abandoned about an hour into service, when both he and Matt started shivering hard enough to fuck up the plating on more than half the dishes – for the millionth time that night. He attempted to clear his throat, prompting a flurry of congested coughs.

Behind him, Matt was sitting on the cold, industrial kitchen ground, head between his knees. “I’mb gonna pass out, I just kndow I am.”

“Don’t fuckigg pass out,” Greyson growled, pulling his sous to his feet. “You ndeed to get your blood mboving, you gotta stand up. Idiot.”

The two of them, bickering and sneezing in near-unison by the pass, had captivated the attention of both front of house managers, who had turned away from their computer work to watch the mess unfold.

“Hope you like what you see,” Elijah said, finally. “Because that’s gonna be you tomorrow.”

Behind his boss’s back, Mark rolled his eyes. “Boss, I’m fine. I don’t feel sick at all, trust me, I’m going to be okay.” It was mostly true; he’d sneezed a few more times today than was normal for him, yes. And he was a little tired – no more than usual, surely. The rawness in the back of his throat was easily ignored with huge gulps of water. He was fine.

“Mmm,” Elijah said, swinging his chair around to look the younger man in the eye, “sure. Whatever you say, Mark; just remember, if you look even close to how bad Matt does tonight, you’re off the floor. And I mean off the floor until you return to normal. A cold is one thing; whatever these two have is entirely another. Understood?”

Mark swallowed around his burgeoning sore throat; off the floor. Off the floor didn’t mean relegated to busywork behind the scenes; it meant sent home. Being sent home meant days without a backup manager to help Elijah on the floor, and no one to help on the floor meant Elijah would realize there was a gap in their team. A gap in management. Mark had been the only floor manager in all the years Elliot’s had been open; Elijah had mentioned a few times that maybe they should hire another person, someone to cover if both Mark and Elijah couldn’t come in, but Mark had been vehemently against it. Elijah couldn’t hire another manager, because if he did, he’d see how truly unqualified Mark had been for his position all this time. Once he saw how unqualified he was, he’d be out on his ass. No job, no money… no second family. No place he truly belonged.

Mark’s face flushed, and he cast his eyes towards the floor. “Yes, boss,” he said. “I understand.”

“Good,” Elijah said, nodding. “Now, go collect your boyfriend and take him to bed.”

***

The first time Mark was sick while working at Elliot’s was well over a year into his tenure.

Elijah had regarded Mark with concern, clocking him as unwell the second he sat in the office. “You don’t look well,” he said. “Are you feeling okay?”

Mark’s face had flushed, embarrassed; not getting sick for over a year working front of house was honestly a feat of accomplishment in the restaurant industry, but he still felt guilty for coming down with something, despite its inevitability. He shrugged, an attempt at playing it cool.

“I’mb okay, boss,” Mark croaked. “Just a cold.”

Elijah nodded slowly. “Are you sure it’s just a cold? You feel okay to work?”

Mark raised an eyebrow, confused. Did he look that unwell? “I mbean… yeah?” he said, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. “Why?”

“Well,” Elijah said, opening a drawer and pulling out cold medicine, along with a small bag that looked like it could’ve come from his mother’s medicine cabinet. “A cold, we can work with.”

The GM explained to him, then, that there were marked differences between the front of house cold, and the back of house cold. “You’ve seen Greyson sick at work a dozen times,” Elijah said, passing Mark a cup full of pills and a water bottle. “Right?”

“Sure,” Mark said, swallowing the pills around a painfully sore throat. “It’s ndot like he’s hiding it.”

“Right. Right,” Elijah said, popping open a stick that looked like – was that concealer? “The chefs, the cooks – they don’t have to hide anything. Us, though? No one wants to be served soup by someone with a stuffy nose. We all get the same shit, but only they’re allowed to look like shit.” He dabbed the concealer under Mark’s eyes, used an expert finger to blend it into his skin. “That’s the industry for you.”

“Are you… putting makeup on mbe?” Mark asked, laughing a bit.

“Sure am,” Elijah said. “A little concealer goes a long way in this profession, Mark. Concealer, and enough meds to tranquilize an elephant.” His boss closed the little concealer pen, put the medicine and makeup away. “I want you on the floor, but I want you to look… alive.” Elijah shut the drawer, shrugged. “Let me know if you start feeling really shitty. Otherwise? Come to the back to blow your nose, and feel free to help yourself to whatever you want in here.”

Mark blinked, a little confused, but grateful for the advice. Elijah seemed… almost fatherly, like this, and he could feel embarrassing tears welling in his eyes at this, the smallest gesture of being cared for. Mark looked down, cleared his throat. “Uh… okay, boss. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Elijah said, patting Mark’s knee. “We’ve gotta take care of each other in this hell hole of an industry, y’know?”

Mark couldn’t look up. The thought of his boss seeing him cry was entirely too much for him to handle. “Right,” he whispered. “Right.”

***

The hardest part of hiding an illness, Mark knew from experience, was speaking.

Putting on makeup and looking like a human instead of a corpse? Easy. He’d learned how to apply concealer so it didn’t look like he was in drag – just enough that in the dim lighting of the restaurant you couldn’t tell if those were dark circles or shadows. He’d learned if you added a tiny bit of blush to your cheeks, no one noticed that your nose was also red, and he’d figured out the hard way that there was never a world in which he needed eyeliner, even if it made his eyes look less bloodshot.

He always dressed immaculately when he wasn’t feeling well; extra-crisp button down, sport coat, his expensive Ray Ban glasses, not the cheapos from Zenni he usually donned. Mark shined his shoes the second he felt a tickle in his throat, broke out the cuff links if he suddenly sneezed more than thrice in a row. He’d been trained well by Elijah to hide the visual cues of any oncoming malady.

Hiding how he really felt came even more naturally; he’d been practicing that since childhood. Complaining wasn’t in his nature, or had maybe been stamped out entirely at some point – either way, Mark could be actively passing out, unable to breathe, coughing so hard he couldn’t form a sentence, and he wouldn’t even mention it. Of course, he’d been sent home from work for being ill before, but never once had he chosen to go. Even the thought of saying ‘I’m sick’ made him dizzy with unease. You need to work through that in therapy, Matt had said to him multiple times, and he knew it was true, but it was also helpful. In this industry, admitting defeat was akin to admitting you sucked at your job.

The voice, though? That was always what gave him away. No matter how much medicine he took, he could always hear the rasp that overtook his voice immediately. His m’s and n’s turned to rounded shadows of their former selves even if he blew his nose every five minutes. His timbre lowered considerably, to the point that when Matt first saw him sick he asked how it felt to be able to do a perfect Johnny Cash, but only when he felt like shit. It was a problem, but Mark was a pretty quiet guy in general. If he was quieter than usual, usually no one was the wiser.

That’s what he hoped – that his boss would be none the wiser – as he dressed in his perfectly-tailored suit that morning, stifling sneeze after painful sneeze into handfuls of tissue all the while. Just don’t talk, he thought as he dotted Maybeline under his eyes. No one has to know.

Of course, not talking was a bit… difficult when his boss was around. “Good morning,” Elijah called to Mark as he buzzed through the kitchen, trying to make his way into the dining room without having to make small talk. Dammit. Mark stopped, begrudgingly, and nodded at his boss, who raised both eyebrows at the younger manager’s outfit choice. “Is there an event tonight I’ve forgotten?”

Mark shook his head, straightened his tie. “Just felt like dressing up,” he said, tactfully avoiding words with too many nasal letters. “How’re you, boss?”

“I’m well,” Elijah said, pointedly. He patted the empty chair next to him, prompting Mark to sit; don’t let him get a good look at you, a voice in Mark’s head chastised. Don’t get taken off the floor. “Greyson’s not coming in till three, if you want to do your preshift report in here today.”

“That’s okay,” Mark said. “I like the dining roomb.” Fuck.

Elijah cocked his head to the side, but didn’t mention Mark’s voice. “How’s Matt feeling?” he asked, another pointed question.

“He’s okay – a little better. Said he’d be here at four.” Mark patted himself on the back for maneuvering around any pesky m’s or n’s that time. Elijah nodded slowly.

“Glad to hear it,” Elijah said, standing. The younger manager was several inches taller than his boss, but Elijah was still able to look him fairly closely in the eye. Once again, one word rattled around in Mark’s head: fuck. “How are you feeling?”

Mark allowed a smile to form on his rapidly-chapping lips. “Good, boss. Ready to work,” he said simply. God, he needed to clear his throat. And more than that, he really, really needed to blow his nose.

Elijah nodded. “Alright,” he said, apparently placated. “Go ahead, then.”

“Thanks, boss,” Mark said, stepping out of the office doorway and pushing through the swinging kitchen doors before Elijah could say anything else. He’d made it through the first test, somehow. Just in time, too, he thought, making a beeline towards the bathroom. Because I really fucking need to -

“NTSHH!” Mark stifled a near-silent sneeze into his wrist as he yanked open the guest bathroom door. Finally, locked in the bathroom alone, he allowed himself to be as disgusting, as sick as he really was.

“Hhuh -! Hh- ETZSCH-ue! HRRSHH-ue! Huh… hh’RRSHH-ue!” Mark collapsed in on himself, scrambling to collect a handful of tissues so he wouldn’t ruin the sleeve of his suit. He blew his nose as thoroughly as he could – not that it made any difference, he was still stuffed up to the gills. A pathetic little cough escaped his lungs, prompting another tickle in his sinuses. “HUHTTSCHH-ue!”

Shut up, shut up, shut up, he chastised himself, blowing his nose again. He’s going to fucking hear you.

He waited a moment or two to see if Elijah would push through the door – he didn’t – before sitting fully clothed on the toilet and pulling out his phone.

11:56AM

Mark

what is this, the fucking plague?

Almost immediately, Matt texted back.

11:57AM Matt

o shit, did we get you already? baby im so sorry. u shouldve told me u weren’t feeling good last night u couldve stayed over

11:57AM Mark

not your fault. and I’m ok, just trying to avoid Elijah, he’s gonna be so pissed.

11:59AM

Matt

omfg he’ll get over it. its not like someone in that restaurant isnt sick every other week

Mark sighed, his lungs crackling at the effort. Matt was right; someone was almost always sick at Elliot’s, that was the way of things in this industry. They all shared drinks, they worked in close quarters, it was bound to happen. This was less about the illness itself – of course he’d been sick at work before, who hadn’t? - and more about the look he knew he’d see on Elijah’s face when he’d finally have to crack. He’d gone directly against his boss’s orders, had put his job and the restaurant second to his baser desires. That’s no way to get ahead in this world, his dad’s voice bellowed from the base of his brain. Mark shuddered; he wasn’t sure he’d be able to face Elijah’s look of pure disappointment. He wasn’t sure he had it in him.

Slipping his phone into his pocket, Mark stood and washed his hands. He took an inventory of his face in the mirror – eye bags poorly covered by drugstore makeup, his nose raw and red, his mouth slightly open to allow him to breathe – and realized how truly awful he looked. Was there even a chance that Elijah didn’t know he was sick? Doubtful, his dad’s voice muttered.

You have to just try, another voice in his head pleaded. Just push through, you know how to push through. You’ve done it a million times before. He doesn’t have to know.

That voice, Mark knew, was delusional – a child’s gnawing plea to be accepted, to not get in trouble, to not be thought of as a burden – but he knew that sometimes you had to be delusional, had to listen to the saddest, smallest part of yourself to get through a day. He pulled his phone back out before leaving the bathroom.

12:04PM

Mark

just please don’t say anything to Elijah when you get here, ok? I’m fine, I promise. its honestly probably just in my head, it’s probably nothing so just don’t say anything. see u soon.

Pathetic, his dad’s voice spat, and Mark knew the voice was right. But that was nothing new, nothing to dwell on; he’d always been pathetic. Mark switched off his phone then, not wanting to be comforted by his boyfriend, and stepped onto the floor.

***

“Mark,” Matt said, reaching up to touch the front of house manager’s forehead, “you really need to go.”

Mark pulled away before Matt could touch him, though not by choice. “HRRSHH-uhh! Hh-! HhNTZSHH-ue! Snrrf. Leave mbe alone.”

Matt’s hand recoiled at the ice in his boyfriend’s voice, obviously hurt. Normally, Mark would’ve nearly fallen to his knees at the thought of hurting Matt’s feelings, but today, with the cold from hell progressing quicker than he ever could’ve anticipated, he couldn’t even find it in himself to apologize. Obviously he needed to go, but that would mean admitting to illness; it would mean begin taken off the floor until god-knows-when. It would mean Elijah replacing him.

No. He wasn’t about to go.

“Honey,” Matt said carefully, touching Mark’s hand across the expo board, “I’mb sure Elijah would understand. It’s a slow ndight, he already sent Greyson back home. What are you trying to prove?”

Of course, Matt was right; last night’s crazy shift was in stark contrast to this evening’s steady pace. There were hardly twenty more covers for the evening, and yes, even Greyson had admitted defeat and slunk out right at six p.m., in a fevered haze. The only reason Matt was still here was because his fever had broken this morning and, despite the lingering cough and stuffy nose, he was clearly feeling better. Good enough, even, to have gone behind Mark’s back and talked to Elijah.

“Matt told me,” Elijah had cornered him right before preshift started, in the back server station while everyone else ate family meal. Mark felt his stomach sink. Fucking Matt, he thought, clearing his throat to address his boss in the most normal voice he could muster.

“Told you what?” he asked, straightening his tie. Elijah gave the younger manager a knowing look.

“You don’t look like you feel well, Mark,” he said, obviously trying a different tactic. This time, Mark’s stomach knotted; he felt, for a moment, like a little kid, wanting to fall to the ground in front of his mommy and just allow himself to be comforted. He thought for a fleeting moment of how good it would feel to just admit it; I’m sick, he would say, if he were a normal fucking person, I want to go to bed.

Instead, Mark shook his head. “I don’t kndow what Matt told you, but he doesn’t kndow what he talking about,” he managed, his voice cutting out only once. “I’mb fine.”

Elijah sighed. “Mark, listen, I know I was an asshole yesterday -”

“Boss,” Mark cut Elijah off. “Please. I’mb okay. Just please, let mbe work.”

He’d walked away then, hadn’t let Elijah say whatever it was he wanted to say, and had avoided Matt as well as he could throughout service. Now, mid-shift, when all the cooks and servers were side-eyeing them from he expo board, was not the time to hash this out.

“I’mb ndot trying to prove anything, Matt,” Mark said now, grabbing two plates from the window. “Just stay out of mby business. What table?”

Matt bit his cheek, peaked at the chit. “Please don’t be mbad,” he said, voice quiet. Mark prickled; he couldn’t help it. He was mad. He’d asked one stupid thing of Matt, and now here he was, career in trouble, embarrassed in front of both of their staffs, and once again gearing up for another painful -

“HTTSHH-ue! God, fugck,” Mark swore, ducking expertly away from the plates he was holding. He sucked in through his nose hard enough to make himself dizzy, and looked back at Matt. “What table, Chef?” he asked, pointedly. Matt winced.

“Thirty-three,” he said finally. Mark nodded.

“Great. Thangks.” He turned on his heels and pushed out the kitchen doors.

***

Before it happened, Mark found himself thinking exactly what his boyfriend was moaning the night previous: I’m gonna pass out, I know I am.

The only difference was, Mark was correct.

He’d been feeling shittier and shittier as the night went on. It began with spells of dizziness that came anytime he moved his head too fast, then moved on to an ache in his chest every time he coughed. A cold is one thing, he remembered Elijah saying the night previous. Whatever they have is entirely something else.

Elijah the prophet.

He kept pushing through. Plate after plate came out of the kitchen on his aching arms; he shook drinks while coughing into his shoulder, and sniffled his way through seating guests. Mark could feel Elijah’s eyes on him, though his boss refused to speak to him throughout the shift. I’ll show him, his fever-addled mind kept saying. I can do this. I’m fine.

It wasn’t until the last table had sat that his body well and truly told him he’d had enough. Mark was seeing stars when he grabbed a filet and swordfish, and once again he ignored it. He ignored the room swimming before him as he pushed out of the kitchen. He ignored the sway in his step.

“Shit, Mark!” was the last thing he heard, standing in the middle of the dining room with hot plates in each of his hands. There was no way to tell who said it – Elijah? Matt? – but it didn’t really matter, because before he could respond, his vision became a tiny pinkprick, his knees buckled, and the lights went out.

***

When the world came back into focus, he had somehow teleported into his bed.

At first, Mark tried desperately to get up; he’d fallen in the middle of the restaurant, that he unfortunately remembered immediately. There had been people around, guests watching, and he immediately felt his face flame with embarrassment. Oh, Elijah is going to kill me.

That was when he realized he was no longer in the restaurant. Mark placed a hand over an aching eye; was it all a dream? He looked down – no, it couldn’t be. He was still in his tailored suit, the tie and ciff links missing, but otherwise dressed to the nines.

“Whoa there, kid,” a familiar voice came from the doorway. “Go ahead and lie back down.”

Mark blearily glanced towards the voice. There, just outside his bedroom, stood Elijah, a steaming cup in one hand and a thermometer in the other. Fuck.

“Shit, Elijah, I’mb so sorry I ca – HTSHH-ue! HRRSHH-ue! Fuck, ’scuse mbe,” Mark, any facade of health finally washed away, used his expensive suit jacket to wipe his nose. Elijah glided across the small room and sat on the foot of the bed, handing the younger man the cup. Tea.

“Save your breath,” Elijah said. “You already apologized about a hundred times at the restaurant.”

He had? Mark gave Elijah a confused look, and sat back on the pillows behind him. He hadn’t even realized he’d come to at the restaurant at all.

“Mmhmm,” Elijah said, nodding. “To me. To Matt. To the guests. To the EMTs. I would think you’d be apologized out.”

EMTs? Mark cringed; as if he hadn’t been embarrassed enough. He wanted to ask, but at the same time he figured it was probably better that he didn’t remember. Small mercies, he thought.

“Lij,” Mark croaked, taking a sip of the tea, “I really amb… sorry. I mbean, I can’t imagine how mbuch I embarrassed you. Thangk you for bringing mbe home… I understand if you can’t…let mbe, uh. Work there. Anymore.”

Mark, destroyed by fever, and aches, and what was probably some sort of bronchitis-sinus-infection super-fucking-hybrid, couldn’t help but let the angry, ashamed tears fall as he said it. Matt wasn’t here, which most likely meant he was out both a boyfriend and a job. You fucking idiot. You stupid, fucking idiot, how dumb could you -

Elijah broke through the screaming in his head – he took Mark’s arms in his hands, placed his cup on the side table, and pulled him in for a hug. “Mark,” his boss said, “you really had us worried.” He pulled the younger manager back, concern painted on his face. “Of course you aren’t fired, I don’t know why you’d think that of me,” he said, a moment so raw that Mark felt like he’d been sucker-punched. “You should’ve just told me you were so sick. So you could go and rest. I would’ve even let Matt go with you.” Elijah patted his knee then, and handed Mark back the mug. “It’s just a restaurant, Mark. You’re more important than service.”

Mark felt his eyes well up once again. Had anyone ever told him he was worth more than the work he did? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure, and that felt like an even harder gut-punch.

“I just…” he managed, wiping beneath his eyes. “I just didn’t wandt you to replace mbe. I’mb sorry for letting Mbatt get mbe sick.”

At this, Elijah actually laughed. “Mark,” he said, “you’re young. You’re in love; it comes with the territory. I was annoyed because Greyson and Matt are constantly getting everyone in that restaurant sick. I wasn’t trying to attack you.” He smiled then, a small and slightly sad smile. “I’m sorry if that’s how to came off.”

Mark didn’t know what to say; he felt awful, like he’d been hit by a semi, and he just wanted to sleep. See Matt. Apologize for being a dick. And sleep.

“Is Mbatt mad at mbe?” he croaked, pulling his legs into his chest. This time, Elijah actually laughed.

“I don’t think Matt knows how to be mad at you,” he said. “He’s just closing up the line; he was actually the one who brought you back here, but you were racked out so I said I’d come keep an eye on you till he got back.” Elijah shrugged, gave a little knowing smile. “He’ll be back soon. Okay? We don’t have to talk any more about this now. Just… try to sleep.” He patted Mark’s shoulder; a fatherly gesture from a man who claimed to know nothing about being a parent. “I’ll call Matt.”

Finally, finally, Mark conceded. He wanted to thank Elijah, or maybe apologize again, but he couldn’t make his mouth form words. Instead, he just nodded, grateful, and sank back into his pillow. He felt his eyes close, and allowed himself, for once, to let someone else take care of him.

He knew, maybe for the first time in his life, that he was safe.

[snzluv3r]

What about an allergy denial scenario?

ask and you shall receive (six months later <3)

here’s my first attempt at a proper allergy denial scenario where you gift me flowers that i insist i couldn't possibly be allergic to as i apologetically sneeze all over them, not wanting to spoil such a beautiful gesture. lots of hitching and some very harsh sneezes