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wetsnifflesneeze · 3 months ago

Text

solace

mel/caitlyn (arcane)

Caitlyn catches a miserable cold, and is resigned to toughing it out by herself. But it turns out she might not be quite as alone as she thought. (9.3k)

cw: moderate mess but nothing extreme, contagion, handkerchiefs, extreme sapphic softness (it’s me y’all, it’s all I write), petnames, characters are probably slightly ooc. 18+

a/n: whew! I never expected this fic to be so long. This is literally poured out of me over the course of two days, and it’s my longest snzfic to date. Thank you so much to 👠 anon whose prompt started this all! Not to break any caitvi hearts, but caitlyn and vi are broken up for this fic, sorry (I still love them dw!). And there’s quite a bit of plot interspersed with snz, sorry (?).

⚠️ warning: if you somehow found yourself here by mistake, this is a sneeze kink fic. If you don’t know what that is, this isn’t the fic for you, ty!

Chapter 1

Caitlyn can already tell it’s going to be a long day.

She’s still in bed, nestled warmly under several layers of blankets, listening to the pouring rain thrum steadily against her bedroom window. She hadn’t slept well, but that’s nothing new. She hardly ever sleeps well these days. Her nights are fitful and long, and she often spends them not in bed at all, but hunched over her desk, working steadily to keep her mind from what she’d rather not think about. Sleep is an elusive concept, slipping through her fingers like wisps of smoke, only deigning to grace her with a few uninterrupted hours here and there.

She can’t remember the last time she had a full night’s sleep. Before her mother died, most likely. Before her world was shattered and flipped upside down, before she became someone she herself didn’t even recognize. Before she won, but lost more than she ever gained.

The lack of sleep isn’t what will make today long, however. She’s become acclimated to running on only a few hours sleep, and while it’s perhaps not the most healthy thing, she can manage just fine. Today, though, she can feel a bone-deep exhaustion settled over her body, making her want to do nothing but fall back asleep. Her throat hurts too, burning with sharp pain every time she swallows, and she can feel a prickle in her sinuses and ears that heralds upcoming congestion.

She’s well on her way to getting sick, much to her dismay.

Caitlyn hates being sick. Not only does she dislike it when anything in her life feels out of her control, but she also hates being off her game. She prides herself on being hardworking and dedicated to her position as sheriff, and she feels she’s been able to do a lot of good in the time since the war. But colds always make her head fuzzy and mind sluggish, slowing her down and making her feel less capable than she would like.

A smaller, gentler part of her wants to admit that she’s only human after all, but Caitlyn doesn’t want to allow such indulgences. She has a job to do and she will do it. If there’s one thing Caitlyn never wants to be, it’s weak.

So she gathers her energy and drags herself out of bed, wrapping her silk robe tightly around herself in an attempt to ward off the midwinter chill, and heads to her bathroom to start getting ready for the day.

—

“Huh…hut’TSSHuu!”

Caitlyn catches the sneeze in the sturdy cotton handkerchief clasped to her nose, then gives a quiet groan before blowing softly into it. It helps relieve some of her growing congestion, but she can still feel an itchy buzz in the back of her nose, warning her that she’s far from done sneezing.

She folds the handkerchief, slipping it into the pocket of her uniform jacket and reaching for her cup of tea. She hasn’t even left for work yet and she’s already dreading the day ahead. A long, hot shower had helped soothe her aching muscles, but she still has a raw throat and a runny nose. Like most of her colds, it didn’t take long for the sneezing to start, and she knows she’s going to be going through several handkerchiefs over the course of the day.

Propping her head up on one hand, she gazes pensively out the kitchen windows toward the expansive gardens of the estate. The rain hasn’t let up in the slightest, turning the world outside gray and wet. It’s certainly not the sort of weather she wants to be out and about in with a burgeoning headcold.

A tickle rises in her nose, reminding her of said cold, and she pulls her handkerchief back out to catch the next round of sneezes.

“Huh…huu’tTSSHoo! HupTSCHUU!”

The sneezes are on the loud side and grate at her already sore throat, pulling another stuffy moan out of her. She has half a mind to cancel her obligations for the day and stay in tending to her cold. But the prospect of spending a dreary, rainy day in this mansion sick and alone, makes something sad twist in her gut. No, she’ll work, she prefers to stay occupied anyway, and she’ll just have to be careful to keep her cold to herself.

Maybe she should get a pet, Caitlyn muses, as she sips at her tea and half-heartedly nibbles on a piece of toast. Not a cat of course, due to her allergies, but a dog could suffice. A friendly face to see when she comes home at night, instead of empty hallways and portraits with lifeless eyes.

The Kiramman Estate has never felt so cold and lonely to her before. It’s not that she’s completely alone – there still is the staff, but they keep to themselves mostly, and her father is here sometimes. Although these days he spends most of his time out in the forested seclusion of their vacation home, doing gods knows what. But even when he is here, he’s nothing like the jovial, friendly man she once knew. Her mother’s death shattered them both. But while Caitlyn has been able to pick up some of the pieces, it seems that the passing of Cassandra broke her father in a way that time could never repair.

And then there was Vi, of course. Caitlyn’s heart aches faintly as she thinks of her. When Vi was here, the house felt warm again. That is, until they started arguing, and the distance between them grew too wide to traverse. Until it became clear that Vi’s heart truly lay with her sister, and that Caitlyn didn’t have it in her to forgive Jinx. Not after what she took from her. And so Vi chose Jinx, as Caitlyn always knew she would, and left to go find her. Rumors were circulating about a blue-haired girl in Demacia, and Vi couldn’t rest until she knew for sure if she her sister was still alive.

Caitlyn understood, as much as it broke her heart to watch her leave. They were never going to work, not really – not after how much they both had become battered and broken.

And so here Caitlyn was, alone on a miserable rainy day, sniffling into a lukewarm cup of tea, and all around feeling much more sorry for herself than she would care to admit.

Eventually though, her need to stay on schedule overpowers her melancholy. She clears away the dishes and grabs two spare handkerchiefs and an umbrella, steeling herself for the long day ahead.

—

Caitlyn is early for the council meeting, which is intentional. She’s always believed that ‘ten minutes early is on time, and on time is late’, a refrain that was ingrained upon her from an early age by her steadfastly punctual mother. Like most things her mother taught her, she rebelled against it as a child, but now finds herself clinging to old routines, wisps of her mother still with her even now.

Only Mel is in the council chambers when Caitlyn arrives, lounging in her high-backed council chair while sipping a cup of tea. She’s wearing a black, silky dress with a slit up the thigh so high that Caitlyn has to consciously tear her gaze away from the sliver of exposed brown skin.

“Hm, it’s ten till, I almost wondered if you’d be late,” Mel says, a friendly smirk playing on her rosy lips. “Wouldn’t that be a sight to see?”

“When have you known me to ever be late?” Caitlyn grins, coming over and slipping into the chair next to Mel. “A Kiramman is never late.”

“Ah, so you were raised with the same admonition,” Mel laughs softly, shaking her head and taking another sip of tea. “A Medarda is never late, a Medarda never apologizes, a Medarda never –”

“–bemoans the rules of being a Medarda?” Caitlyn guesses, and Mel chuckles again at that.

“Don’t go giving my mother ideas.”

“Well, rest easy knowing she is in Noxus, then.” Caitlyn says, a hint of seriousness dropping into her tone.

“We can all rest easier knowing that.” Mel glances away, but not before Caitlyn sees the flash of sadness in her emerald-green eyes.

The war had taken a toll on them all, perhaps none more so than Mel, who had to fight her own mother until the bitter end. It had almost seemed that the Noxian leader wouldn’t survive her injuries, but Ambessa’s powerful will prevailed once more, and she returned to Noxus once she was recovered. Her connection to Mel, and Piltover, however, was irreconcilably severed.

Mel had chosen to stay in Piltover and continue to serve on the council, and has proved instrumental in the efforts to improve life for Piltover’s citizens, especially those in the undercity. Although Caitlyn abdicated her family’s seat on the council to Zaun, she still attends council meetings quite regularly due to her role as sheriff, in order to keep the council members well-apprised of the activities of the now-reformed enforcers.

Mel has become something of a friend to Caitlyn in the intervening time, a bond developing between them based in no small part of their shared upbringing, and–Caitlyn would suspect–their shared loneliness. Surviving such things as they have, the ten-year age difference between them seems less than relevant now. Caitlyn finds herself seeing Mel as less of a mentor, as she did when she was young, and more of an ally and confidante now.

A sharp tickle in her nose brings Caitlyn back to the present, and she hastily reaches into her uniform jacket for her handkerchief, cupping the fabric over her nose and mouth with both hands and twisting away from Mel.

“uhhTSSCHhuu! Huh–huh’tSCHhoo!”

She sneezes twice then sniffles, pinching the fabric around her nose to wipe away the lingering wetness from the outburst.

“Excuse me,” Caitlyn mutters, feeling a slight heat rise to her cheeks, as she finishes cleaning her nose and turns back to face the woman beside her.

“Bless you!” Mel exclaims, her delicate eyebrows raised. “Goodness, are you quite well, Caitlyn?”

“Just the weather bothering my nose.” Caitlyn waves her concern away, but Mel doesn’t seem deterred, instead studying her with narrowed, thoughtful eyes.

“You sound like you’re ill,” Mel tuts, pushing back from the table and standing smoothly. “I’ll make you a tea.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to–” Caitlyn starts to protest, looking up at Mel through the watery eye not covered by her eyepatch, but Mel just gives her a firm look.

“Of course I do. Be right back, darling.”

Mel clicks out of the room in her heels, leaving Caitlyn wondering why the term ‘darling’ just made her heart do an odd sort of swoop in her chest.

Mel returns with a steaming cup of chamomile tea in a few short minutes, and the other council members start trickling in after that. The warm tea feels heavenly on Caitlyn’s scratchy throat, but the steam also loosens her congestion, leading her to need to pull her handkerchief out once more. After giving her runny nose a quiet blow, she keeps the cloth clasped in her hand, since clearly she’ll need it sooner rather than later.

And need it she does. Her cold does nothing but worsen as the meeting progresses, her congestion increasing, and her nose tingling with an infuriating itch that no amount of rubbing seems to quell. She keeps her now-damp handkerchief almost permanently pressed to her nose to catch the unrelenting stream of wetness her sinuses seem to be so keen on producing, muffling occasional sneezes that she does her best to keep contained.

To their credit, the other councilors hardly spare her a glance, politely blessing the sneezes that she’s unable to stifle but otherwise ignoring her obvious illness, much to Caitlyn’s relief. But out of the corner of her eye, she can see Mel glancing at her now and then, her eyebrows furrowed.

Eventually the handkerchief she’s holding becomes too damp to be of any real use, so Caitlyn folds it up and puts it in her pants pocket, reaching for one of the spares she brought. But it’s at that exact moment, when her irritated, sensitive nose is exposed to the cool air of the council chambers, that a sneeze bursts out of her with no warning and no hope of her holding it back.

“huhrrSSCHUUU!”

She snaps forward with the sudden, forceful outburst, a fine mist spraying all over the papers in front of her, and to her horror, Mel’s arm that is resting on the table next to her.

Caitlyn’s eye widens as she sees the droplets glistening on Mel’s smooth skin, but she doesn’t have time to utter an apology before another sneeze overtakes her. She manages to get her hands up in time for this one, and she sneezes into her cupped palms, hands tightly clamped over her nose and mouth to contain the spray.

“HuhhTSSChhoo! huh–uhhSCCHuu! heh…hurrSCHHhoo!”

She can feel bursts of warm, wet spray coat her palms as each sneeze all but explodes out of her, bending her at the waist and making her eye sting with irritated tears. There’s dampness running from her nose to her upper lip afterward, and she sniffles liquidly, keeping a hand clasped firmly to her face while she reaches for a clean handkerchief with the other.

“Gods, bless you,” Mel says emphatically, her voice soft but concerned, and the other council members murmur an assortment of blessings as well.

Caitlyn mutters an embarrassed thanks, her cheeks flaming, and turns away from the table to clean up the mess coating her nose and hands. Once she’s sure she’s decent, she swivels back around, and then suddenly remembers that she sneezed on Mel. She quickly pulls out her last clean handkerchief.

“I’m so sorry, Mel, it came out of nowhere,” Caitlyn grimaces, speaking quietly to Mel as the meeting continues on around them. She hands over the handkerchief, sure the other woman must think her absolutely disgusting. She can’t remember the last time she was this embarrassed, and her cheeks must be bright red by now.

“It’s quite alright, it was an accident. I’ve faced much worse than a sneeze,” Mel says good-naturedly, dabbing at the wetness on her arm and handing the handkerchief back. “Here, I think you need this more than me.” Her eyes twinkle as she gives Caitlyn a playful smile.

Caitlyn groans quietly, taking the cloth and rubbing her irritated nose furiously into it. “Still. I feel terrible. I hope you don’t catch this.”

“Oh I probably will,” Mel shrugs nonchalantly. “But it’s alright. I catch plenty of colds in the wintertime, seems to be my lot in life. You would think being a mage would protect me, but unfortunately that doesn’t seem to be the case.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Caitlyn sighs, then clasps the handkerchief tighter to her nose when it gives a warning twitch. She pinches her nose shut through the cloth in an attempt to keep the next sneezes as quiet as possible.

“Hehh…hehNGTtch! Nnggxtsch! uhhNGSTCHuu!”

“Bless you again, darling,” Mel supplies, but quietly enough that only Caitlyn can hear her.

Caitlyn nods her thanks while her breath hitches, as she desperately tries to suppress the sneezes that are vying for release. But she’s powerless to stop them, and she snaps forward again, pinching her nose shut against the itchy outburst.

“huUH-HNGGtt!! huh–huHHNTTSChh! uh–uhh’huhNNGXT!”

Each held-back sneeze makes her head pound and a burst of pressure explode in her sinuses, but it’s still better than disrupting the meeting any further. After this round of stifling, her nose is running yet again, so Caitlyn has no choice but to blow softly into the cloth still clamped over her face, internally grimacing as she quickly fills the handkerchief with a distasteful amount of mucus.

“Bless you,” Mel murmurs, and when Caitlyn glances up at her, there’s a deep, concerned frown creasing her forehead. She leans closer to Caitlyn so she can speak to her quietly, placing a warm hand on her back. Caitlyn stiffens, fighting her desire to melt into the touch. “You shouldn’t hold them back like that, it sounds quite painful.”

“I’mb finde,” Caitlyn says stuffily, although she truly is anything but. She can’t remember the last time she had such a drippy, tickly cold, and in public, of all things. Refolding the damp handkerchief in a somewhat futile attempt to find a dry spot, she presses her nose into the cloth and gives it a firm rub, hoping to quell the bothersome itch that keeps her teetering on the edge of a sneeze.

“Of course, you sound perfectly healthy,” Mel replies drily, giving Caitlyn a frank look. “Truly, Caitlyn, you should head home and straight to bed after this meeting. That’s quite the cold you have.”

“It sounds worse than it is.” Caitlyn pinches the bridge of her nose, giving a quiet, congested, sigh as she tries to massage away the awful combination between sinus headache and migraine that seems to be brewing in her head. “I’ll be alright.”

Mel gives her a look that clearly conveys her disbelief, but then the meeting moves on to the next agenda item, and it’s Caitlyn's turn to speak.

Thankfully, the report she needs to give is brief, and she manages to make it through without sneezing. Her voice is quickly becoming hoarse though, and by the time she finishes speaking and sits back down, she begrudgingly faces the fact that she probably will need to spend the rest of the day working from home. No one will be able to understand her at the police station anyway, and with how awful this cold is, she’d rather not risk infecting her entire staff of enforcers with it.

The rest of the council meeting drags on. Caitlyn’s nose continues to bother her, but she does her best to keep her incessant sneezing as restrained as possible. She’s looking forward to getting home simply for the fact that she can sneeze freely there, instead of stifling them all back in this headache-inducing way. A few sneezes come on so quickly that she’s unable to pinch them back, but she does her best to keep them contained in her handkerchief. Her cold is so heavy, and her sneezes so harsh, however, that she’s not quite able to catch all the spray every time. She can only hope that she’s sat far enough away from everyone else that she won’t be passing her cold along.

When the meeting finally wraps up, Caitlyn gives a sigh of relief. Her head is pounding and her nose is completely stuffed up, and she wants nothing more than to take a hot shower and crawl into bed. She doesn’t know how this cold managed to worsen so quickly, but it’s awful enough that she’s willing to admit defeat and head home.

As the other council members gather their things and start heading out, Mel turns to Caitlyn. Her face is full of sympathetic concern, and Caitlyn finds her stomach fluttering against her will.

“Will you be alright to get home?” Mel asks, tilting her head to the side. “I could accompany you, if you need.”

“No, that’s quite alright,” Caitlyn gives Mel a reassuring smile, touched by her concern. Although she usually doesn’t take well to others fussing over her health, she finds she doesn’t mind it quite so much, coming from Mel. “It’s just a rotten headcold. I’ll be fine.”

“Well, do take care of yourself, Caitlyn,” Mel says, putting a gentle hand to Caitlyn’s shoulder. “Lots of tea and rest for you.”

“Thank you, Mel.” Caitlyn, despite not being the biggest fan of physical affection, feels a sudden urge to pull the slightly shorter woman into her arms. She settles for giving her hand a quick squeeze instead. “I appreciate your concern.”

“I’ve come to value your companionship,” Mel admits, shuffling her papers and tapping them into a neat stack. Caitlyn isn’t quite sure, but she thinks she can see a hint of a flush to Mel’s cheeks.

“As do I,” Caitlyn murmurs, and there’s more truth to that statement than she would care to admit.

Caitlyn treks home in the rain, kept dry under her large umbrella. Somehow, the pit of loneliness she woke up with doesn’t feel quite as deep any longer.

—

The following morning, Caitlyn is determined to go into work. After the disastrous council meeting yesterday, she spent the rest of the day in bed, catching up on paperwork. She got less work done than she would like, exhausted as she was by her cold, and she wants to make up for it today. A whole day of rest is a day more than she would usually take. It should be plenty to have her back on her feet by now.

Her body, however, does not seem to be quite on the same page.

The itchy, runny nose she was fighting yesterday has transitioned into blocked sinuses, although somehow the sneezing has only worsened. Instead of tickly fits of twos and threes, she's sneezing in throat-scraping singles that are exhausting and horrendously wet. Her voice is hoarse and miserably stuffed up, not at all helped by her continued scratchy throat.

A glance in the bathroom mirror confirms that she looks nearly as sick as she feels. Her nose is a flushed, cherry red, irritated from the constant nose blowing and sneezing. She’s also much paler than usual, and her lips are dry and cracked from breathing through her mouth all night.

She takes her time in the shower, hoping the hot steam will help loosen the congestion in her head. Her eucalyptus and tea tree oil shampoo tingles pleasantly on her scalp as she works it into a lather, the calming aroma filling the steamy washroom. The sharp scent is enough to make her nose start prickling, but that was why she chose this shampoo instead of her usual lavender one. She’s hoping a few good sneezes might clear her out of a bit before she heads into work.

It doesn’t take long for the itch to sharpen, and she pitches forward, directing the sneeze toward the shower floor.

“Huh–huhRSSCHhuu!”

The sneeze scrapes her throat raw, but it does break through the wall of congestion in her sinuses. Her nose starts running, increasing the tickle there, and her nostrils flare as more sneezes burst out.

“uh…uhhSSHHoo! Huhp’TSCHhuu! hehh..hehrrRSSHHhu!”

She sneezes freely toward the tiled floor, the spray mixing with the stream of warm water. Her nose is running in earnest now and she swipes at it with her palm, cringing at the wetness coating her upper lip.

Sneezing in the shower is one thing, but she refuses to blow her nose into her hands, so she finishes washing up quickly and gets out. She wraps up with a fluffy towel around her body and another around her hair, then heads to the bedroom for her handkerchiefs. It takes her two handkerchiefs to fully empty her stuffy nose, but she’s grateful to be able to breathe a little easier afterward.

Hopefully she got the worst of her cold dealt with now, and she can go on to have a mostly normal day at work.

—

“Sheriff, we’re getting reports of a skirmish on the Bridge of Progress,” says Sergeant Fischer, one of the lead Enforcers. The solidly built woman stands ram-rod straight in the doorway of Caitlyn’s office, hands clasped behind her back as she awaits Caitlyn’s reply.

Caitlyn resists the urge to groan. Of course it’s today, when she’s not feeling her best, that she’s been fielding non-stop calls from across the city. She sets down the paperwork she had been reviewing, thinking before responding. Even sick as she is, she carefully considers the best response, which officers to send, and all possible repercussions of potential actions.

“Take Officers Mcintosh and Medina with you. De-escalatory actions only. Radio in for backup if you need it. Understood?” Caitlyn orders, and the sergeant nods.

“Understood, Sheriff.” Fischer turns on her heel and marches out of her office.

Usually Caitlyn doesn’t mind giving orders and sorting out the various conflicts that her police force is responsible for handling. But today she’s got a persistent headache that seems well on the way to becoming a migraine, her congestion has returned with a vengeance, and now she’s developing a cough on top of it all.

Taking a handkerchief off the stack on the desk next to her, Caitlyn gives her nose a hard blow, not concerned about propriety in the seclusion of her office. But all she manages to accomplish is a sad-sounding honk, the cement-like congestion filling her sinuses not shifting in the slightest.

What the attempt at blowing does do, however, is reignite the burning itch in her nose. She quickly presses the handkerchief more firmly to her face, her breath hitching and her good eye fluttering shut.

“Huh…huuSSCCHuu!”

The sneeze makes her shoulders shudder and her waist bend slightly with the force of it. She keeps the handkerchief pressed to her face afterward, already knowing that she’s far from done.

“Eh–huh…huup’TSCHoo! hhrRRSCHUuu! Huh…huhhTCHOOo!”

Each sneeze explodes into the white cloth with force, drenching her usually sturdy handkerchief with spray, and sending some mess sluggishly running down her upper lip.

“Ugh..snf-snf!” Caitlyn groans and sniffles liquidly while she pinches the cloth around her nose, cleaning up the wetness around her nostrils. She’s so tired of sneezing. It’s exhausting and a mess every time, and worst of all, doesn’t even help relieve the congestion in her head.

“Bless you,” says a soft voice, and Caitlyn snaps her head up, startled.

Mel Medarda is standing in the doorway of her office, looking unfairly pretty in another one of her perfectly fitted dresses, hair piled on top of her head in an intricate style.

“Oh, umb..snf!” Caitlyn tries to clear her voice, coughing into her fist. She can already feel her cheeks reddening at the embarrassingly thick sound of her voice, and also the fact that Mel witnessed her sneezing so heavily. Caitlyn blinks a few times and rubs at her temples. “Thadk you. What’re you doi’g here?”

Her head feels so stuffed and woozy, she’s having trouble keeping things straight. Did she forget she had a meeting with the councilmember? She can’t think of any other reason Mel would be at police headquarters, it’s far from usual to see her here.

“Oh, Caitlyn. You sound awful.” Mel’s face drops as soon as Caitlyn speaks, her eyebrows tugging together and a look of soft concern in her eyes. She steps further into the room, coming over to the desk and perching on the side of it. “Didn’t I tell you to go home and rest?”

“I did rest,” Caitlyn sighs, sniffling again. “Yesterday. I have wor’g to do.”

“You need to take care of that cold,” Mel chastises lightly, her golden-green eyes sweeping over Caitlyn’s hunched form, lingering on her face. Caitlyn’s cheeks feel warm again. “You sound even worse than you did yesterday.”

“I appreciate your condcer’d,” Caitlyn says, her voice still irritatingly congested. “Hold od.” She holds up a finger, swiveling in her chair all the way around so as to not face Mel. Grabbing a handkerchief, she blows her nose as quietly as she possibly can, but it still produces an unpleasant, congested sound. But at least she’s able to breathe ever so slightly better afterward.

“Excuse me,” Caitlyn sighs again, setting aside the used handkerchief and turning back to face Mel. “I appreciate your concern, Mel,” she says diplomatically, her tone slipping into the even, measured one she uses at work. “But I’ll be fine. It’s just a cold.”

Mel, still perched on the side of her desk, rolls her eyes briefly. “Has anyone ever told you you’re incredibly stubborn?”

Caitlyn’s lips quirk up in a small smile. “Perhaps once or twice.”

Mel smiles back at her, giving her a knowing look.

Silence stretches for a few moments, and Caitlyn steadfastly keeps her eye on Mel’s face, not the deep v in her dress that exposes her chest.

Caitlyn coughs lightly, clearing her throat afterward. “Sorry, did you need something Mel? I don’t recall us having an appointment.”

“Oh – yes,” Mel shakes her head, and holds up a small paper bag that Caitlyn hadn’t noticed before. “Call it a hunch. I thought you might need a few things today.”

Taking the bag curiously, Caitlyn opens it to see an assortment of glass jars filled with cold medications, along with a stack of fresh, white handkerchiefs tied up with a purple ribbon.

“I figured you would be working, even with that terrible cold,” Mel shrugs, nodding toward the bag. “So I stopped by the apothecary for supplies.”

Caitlyn swallows hard past a sudden surge of emotion in her chest. Somehow, this feels like the nicest thing anyone has done for her in a long, long time.

“Mel – that’s –” Caitlyn trips over her words, then shakes her head to clear it, looking back up at the woman next to her. “Thank you.”

“Of course, darling,” Mel smiles, laying her hand on top of Caitlyn’s and Caitlyn’s heart does that same funny thing it does whenever Mel touches her. “Someone ought to look after you, after all.”

“I can look after myself,” Caitlyn says automatically, and Mel chuckles softly.

“Yes, well. I suppose it couldn’t hurt either of us, to have a little help, now and then.”

“I suppose not,” Caitlyn echoes softly, her heart full.

“I do hope you feel better soon.” Mel gives her hand another squeeze, then slips off the desk, smoothing her dress down. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

As she turns to head out the door, Caitlyn feels a sudden longing tug in her chest. “Wait!” she calls, before she can think better of it.

“Yes?” Mel turns, raising a curious, elegant eyebrow.

“You’ve been so kind. Let me repay the favor. Dinner, tonight? I’ll have my cook prepare it, of course, so I don’t share my cold.” Caitlyn offers, blushing a little. She’s being silly, she knows – why would Mel want to spend any more time around her in this state?

“Oh.” A brief look of surprise flits across Mel’s face. “But you should be resting, not entertaining.”

“I’d much rather have company than wallow in self-pity all evening,” Caitlyn says honestly. “Unless you’d rather not be exposed to this cold, which is perfectly understandable. In fact, you probably should stay away, this thing is awful.”

“So are you inviting me over or not?” Mel teases, a playful grin on her lips.

Caitlyn swears she’s never blushed this much in her life. “I am. If you would like to, and if you don’t mind my cold,” she clarifies, trying to sound more confident than she feels.

“I don’t mind,” Mel says softly. “Seven?”

“Seven,” Caitlyn nods, her stomach fluttering.

“See you then,” Mel smiles, and slips out the door before Caitlyn even manages to catch her breath.

—

Chapter 2

Mel attends dinner parties all the time. It’s practically part of her job description, after all. Being a councilmember necessitates a well-polished ability to wine and dine all of Piltover’s elite. She’s been doing so ever since she was practically a child, she’s got it down to art form by now. She knows what to wear, what to bring, and what to say. She knows how to make guests laugh, she knows how to subtly advance her political agendas without being obvious, she knows when to talk and when to listen. She’s a pro.

So there’s absolutely no reason for her to be nervous to have dinner with Caitlyn Kiramman. And yet… she is.

She can’t exactly put her finger on when her relationship with the sheriff changed from cordial, to friendly, to teetering on the precipice of something more. Somewhere between cups of tea they shared together in cafes and council meetings after the war, after Caitlyn lost Vi and Mel lost Jayce, something soft and sweet began to blossom between them. At first it was solely a friendship that Mel treasured deeply, as she had few people she could truly confide in these days.

For most of her life, Mel had thought of Caitlyn as a young, naive girl, rather than an equal. There is a fairly significant ten-year age gap between them, after all, and Jayce was practically a big brother to Caitlyn. When Mel was with Jayce, he spoke of the young Kiramman in a fond, slightly condescending way, and Mel didn’t question his assessment of her.

But then Caitlyn became Commander and head of Kiramman House, and Mel suddenly realized what a sharp, analytical mind Caitlyn truly has. Mel watched the way Caitlyn led with precision and boldness. Her decisions were never rash, and always calculated. Mel had been forced to admit that Caitlyn was far from a child, even if some of her actions as Commander were questionable.

And after they fought together to defeat Ambessa, she no longer saw Caitlyn as naive. No, Caitlyn was strong in ways that Mel herself was not, and perhaps the difference in age didn’t matter quite as much as Mel had once thought.

They have much more in common than Mel would have expected. There’s the similarity of their upbringings, of course – the near-crushing weight of a surname as heavy as both of theirs. But as she got to know Caitlyn deeper after the war, Mel began to realize that Caitlyn understood quite well the feeling of never being good enough that Mel struggles with. They both had lost so much, and perhaps their shared grief bonded them too. Mel began to appreciate Caitlyn’s steadfast determination to right the wrongs she had inflicted as Commander, and her gift of truly being a natural leader. Her steadiness has been a comfort to Mel, who too often feels unmoored, swept away in waves of emotion that threaten to overwhelm her.

And these days, Mel has to admit there is a part of her that has begun to see Caitlyn as more than a friend. Her eyes linger just a moment too long on Caitlyn’s sculpted, toned arms, she finds herself a little breathless whenever she notices the good few inches of height Caitlyn has on her, how the navy-haired woman towers over her ever so slightly.

But there’s no reason to think Caitlyn feels the same way, nor would it even be advisable to become romantically engaged with someone she works so closely with. Mel is determined to keep her feelings for the Kiramman heir in check.

Her heart just needs to get the message.

She takes longer than she usually would getting ready, thoughtfully sifting through her expansive dress collection. She eventually settles on a silky, carmine red gown that brings out her eyes, and a pair of strappy gold heels. It’s probably a little too extravagant for dinner with a friend, but Mel’s never been a fan of dressing down.

Shivering slightly once she exchanges her cozy lounge clothes for the thin, strappy gown, Mel briefly considers throwing a cardigan on top. She’s been feeling slightly chilled all day, a product of damp weather no doubt, and the delicate dress certainly isn’t helping. But a sweater would ruin her outfit, so Mel decides to forgo it, figuring she can tolerate a few chills.

She sneezes a few times as she does her makeup, much to her annoyance. Thankfully she manages to avoid smudging her eyeliner, still achieving a perfect cat-eye. There’s a tickle in the back of her throat and nose that keeps her feeling like she needs to sneeze, almost as if she’s allergic to something. But it’s winter and she’s never been especially prone to allergies, so Mel brushes it off. She won’t even consider the possibility that it could be something more. She’s determined to have an excellent night with Caitlyn, even if the other woman is fighting a cold.

—

It’s five till seven by the time Mel arrives on the doorstep of the Kiramman Estate, shivering heartily. She chose to walk instead of taking a carriage, a decision she’s somewhat regretting now. A chill has settled in her bones, making her shudder with shivers and her nose run. She sniffles wetly, looking forward to getting warm and inside.

Thankfully it doesn’t take long for Caitlyn to answer the door. The sheriff has exchanged her uniform for a navy blue turtleneck that makes her good eye sparkle, and a pair of neatly pressed black trousers. A matching navy eyepatch covers her injured eye. It’s a very typical Caitlyn outfit, and Mel feels her heart warm fondly.

Caitlyn's mouth drops open slightly as she traces her gaze over Mel’s silky gown, her eyebrows nearly reaching her hairline.

“I hope I’m not overdressed,” Mel smiles sweetly, her heart fluttering when she sees Caitlyn’s eye linger on her leg exposed from the slit of her dress.

Caitlyn swallows hard, giving her head a slight shake, and ushers Mel inside.

“You know you’re overdressed and you love it,” she chuckles, closing the door behind Mel and giving her a knowing look. “Sometimes I think you’re trying to cause a fuss in the council meetings with these little outfits of yours.”

Mel feels a satisfied flush warm her cheeks. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she smiles innocently, following Caitlyn toward the kitchen.

“Of course not,” Caitlyn laughs, gesturing toward the small table in the corner of the large kitchen. “Have a seat. I’m just making tea, dinner’s almost ready.”

But then Caitlyn has to swivel away from her, pulling a handkerchief out of her pocket and sneezing heavily into it.

“Huh…huhhRRUUShhh!”

“Bless you,” Mel says, wincing sympathetically at the painful-sounding sneeze. “Why don’t you sit and I’ll make the tea. How’re you feeling?”

“Very congested,” Caitlyn answers with a small groan, giving her nose a quick but productive blow. “My apologies that you’ll have to listen to me sniffling all night.”

“It’s quite alright,” Mel says, putting her hand on Caitlyn’s back and guiding her toward a chair. “But you need to rest.”

“I can hardly invite you over and have you do all the work,” Caitlyn objects, before her breath starts hitching again and she pauses, clamping her handkerchief back over her face. “Eh…ehHSSCHHu! HuhTSCHHoo! Huh…huuRRSSCHuu!”

“Bless you, darling.” Mel pulls out a chair and lightly pushes Caitlyn down to sit in it. “Sit there and sneeze. I’ll handle the tea.”

“And if I don’t want to sneeze?” Caitlyn complains with a hint of petulance, and Mel grins fondly.

“Somehow I don’t think you have much choice in the matter.”

“Sadly you are correct,” Caitlyn groans, sniffling liquidly. “Oh not agai–ehh-hhEESSCHH!” She catches the spraying sneeze in the cloth that’s starting to look quite damp, rubbing her running nose roughly into it afterward.

“Bless you.”

“You really don’t have to keep saying that, I’m sure this won’t be the last of it.”

“I don’t mind,” Mel shrugs, heading over to the kettle on the stove and lighting the burner. “Old habits, I suppose.”

“I have quite a few of those myself,” Caitlyn agrees, blowing her nose once more and getting up. “I need a new handkerchief, give me a moment.”

Mel nods, heading over to the cabinet to search for the tea stash. Caitlyn returns a few moments later, clutching a stack of handkerchiefs, her nose shining a bright, irritated red. She looks so miserable with her pale cheeks, raw nose, and faint circles under her eyes, that Mel can’t help but tut at her.

“You sure you’re up for dinner?” Mel asks. “I don’t want to keep you, if you’d rather be in bed.”

“I’m right where I want to be,” Caitlyn says firmly, and that makes a tingle race up Mel’s spine. She shivers slightly, still working through her chill from earlier.

Caitlyn misses nothing, of course. “Are you cold?” she frowns, coming over to Mel and rubbing a hand over her bare arm to warm her up. “I could get you a sweater.”

“I’m alright, just a little chilled from the walk over,” Mel says, but she doesn’t pull away from Caitlyn’s hold.

“You walked over in this?” Caitlyn’s eye widens, glancing down at Mel’s gown. “Mel. You look beautiful, but this is hardly weather appropriate.”

Mel’s heart does a swoop at the compliment, and she turns away from Caitlyn to hide the blush in her cheeks. She busies herself with the tea, calling over her shoulder. “I’m absolutely fine, promise. The tea will warm us both up.”

Caitlyn gives a disapproving sort of hum, but she sits back down at the table. Mel walks over with two steaming cups of tea, balanced on saucers.

“Thank you,” Caitlyn murmurs, taking a sip and sighing gratefully. “Ah. This is heaven on my throat.”

“Good.” Mel sips her own tea, eyeing the navy-haired woman next to her. “Can I get you anything, Caitlyn?”

Caitlyn smiles softly at her. “No, I’m fine. Just your company is enough.”

Mel smiles back, warmth rising in her chest. The two of them drink their tea in companionable silence for a few minutes, broken only by Caitlyn’s sniffles or occasional cough.

But the steam from the tea shifts something in Mel’s nose, and she feels the itch that she’s been fighting all day crest. Hastily putting down her cup, she twists away from Caitlyn, cupping her hands around her face.

“Hiitschiew–sshuu! hiipTSChhiu! itscch–hitsch! Hiitschiew!”

The sneezes are soft but rapid, as they always are for her, and they leave Mel slightly breathless afterward.

“Excuse me,” Mel murmurs, turning back around. She sniffles wetly and runs a finger under her nose.

“Bless you,” Caitlyn frowns, her face dropping. “Oh, Mel. Are you coming down with this? I’m so sorry.”

“No, I’m fine,” Mel waves a hand. “It was just a sneeze.”

“Well, more like six,” Caitlyn corrects, still scrutinizing Mel with her intense, bright blue gaze. “Are you sure? You look a little pale.”

“I’m positive,” Mel says firmly. “Is dinner almost ready?”

Caitlyn gives her a look at the obvious attempt to change the subject, but she doesn’t push it. “I’ll go check with the chef’s kitchen,” Caitlyn says, standing. She nods toward the stack of handkerchiefs on the table. “Feel free, if you need one.”

“I don’t,” Mel says, a little sharply. Caitlyn raises her eyebrows, and Mel bites her lip. “Sorry. I mean, thank you,” Mel says, softly.

“Of course.”

—

Dinner is delicious, as Mel expected. The Kiramman chef serves them a soothing butternut squash soup, freshly baked rolls, and a side of roasted chicken and vegetables. Deciding to eat at the kitchen table instead of in the formidable dining room, the two of them savor the meal together, chatting and laughing.

Caitlyn steadily works her way through her stack of handkerchiefs, sneezing and blowing her nose often, but Mel doesn’t mind. She actually realizes she finds it kind of cute, seeing the usually impeccably put-together Kiramman so runny-nosed and undone by a simple headcold. It’s kind of refreshing to see Caitlyn so human for once, and it makes Mel’s heart grow all the fonder for her.

The soup is wonderfully soothing on Mel’s own throat, as well. Her throat is starting to feel quite scratchy, and she has to interrupt their conversation with a few sneezing fits of her own. Caitlyn gently blesses her each time, still inquiring over Mel’s health, but Mel manages to feign wellness. Or at least, she hopes she does. She’s not entirely sure it’s possible to fool Caitlyn, ever. But she wants to enjoy their evening together, not have Caitlyn worry over the cold that Mel has to admit she is certainly catching.

They talk about work, the council, and their families, reminiscing over memories both happy and sad. After they finish dinner, they retire to the library. Caitlyn stokes a fire in the hearth, and they sit together on the couch in front of the fireplace, close enough that their shoulders brush. The fire crackles merrily, emitting a welcome heat that helps chase some of Mel’s chill away, and the two of them sip tea while they continue to talk.

Mel is just telling Caitlyn a particularly amusing story about Kino and the first time he saw a dog, when her nose twitches again.

“Excuse me,” Mel says preemptively, putting aside her tea and leaning away from Caitlyn with her hands cupped to her face. “Hih–hiisschh–ittsch! iTSCHiew! Ehh–iitSCHh–k’iitschiew! sschh-iischh!”

“Bless you, love,” Caitlyn murmurs, and Mel’s stomach flutters at the endearment. “Here.” Caitlyn hands over a clean handkerchief, putting a warm hand to Mel’s back and rubbing gently while she tends to her drippy nose.

“Do you always sneeze so many times in a row?” Caitlyn asks, after Mel blows her nose softly. “It’s quite cute. But also sounds exhausting”

“Oh – I suppose, yes,” Mel says quietly, blushing. But then her breath catches again, and she quickly presses the handkerchief back to her face. “iittsch–ittschh–hiiTSCHiiew! K’itschiew! Ih–hiiscch–sschiew!” She groans softly afterward, her head throbbing from the repeated outbursts, and she can feel wetness around her nostrils. She pinches the cloth over her nose and wipes away the mess firmly, setting it aside.

“Bless you. Again,” Caitlyn says pointedly, giving a small sigh. “Mel. You’re catching my cold.”

Mel gives a sigh of her own. “I might be coming down with something,” she admits. “But don’t feel bad, darling. I really don’t mind. I catch everything that comes around.”

“All the more reason I should have kept my distance,” Caitlyn frowns, a hint of frustration in her voice.

“I don’t want you to keep your distance,” Mel says quietly, reaching for Caitlyn’s hand. She rubs her thumb over Caitlyn’s knuckles softly, and her heart starts pounding in her chest. Caitlyn’s gaze meets her own, the softly flickering firelight painting her face in warmth.

“I don’t want that either,” Caitlyn murmurs, and she tenderly cups her free hand to Mel’s cheek. “You’re so beautiful, do you know that?”

“I – oh–” Mel’s breath stutters, and she feels like her heartbeat must be so loud that Caitlyn can hear it.

And the next thing she knows, Caitlyn’s soft lips are on hers.

The kiss is gentle at first, but then Mel threads her hands through Caitlyn’s hair, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss. Mel’s stomach does several flips and her fingers tingle, as she savors the feeling of Caitlyn’s delicate lips moving against her own.

But after a few seconds, Caitlyn pulls back with an apologetic look. “I can’t breathe,” she sniffles thickly, shaking her head in amusement. “Quite attractive, I know.”

“You are,” Mel says seriously, handing Caitlyn a handkerchief. “Even with a stuffy nose,” she smiles.

Caitlyn blushes, and blows her nose, which triggers a sneeze. “Huhh–huuTSCHhuu!”

“Bless you, darling,” Mel murmurs, running her hand down Caitlyn’s arm soothingly.

“Ugh. Thank you.” Caitlyn groans and wipes her nose roughly, setting the handkerchief aside. “I have to admit, this isn’t how I pictured our first kiss going.”

“Oh so you pictured it then?” Mel teases, grinning.

“Of course I did,” Caitlyn says huskily, reaching for one of the thin straps on Mel’s dress and playing with it. “You can hardly show up to council meetings wearing such things and have me not imagine it.”

“I had no idea my attire had an effect,” Mel laughs softly. “You’ve quite the poker face.”

“Yes, well. I am well practiced in restraint,” Caitlyn hums, her eye tracing over the curve of Mel’s breasts. “But I am glad I needn’t hide my affections any longer.”

“Oh–Caitlyn–” Mel breathes, her eyes fluttering shut when Caitlyn leans forward and starts peppering her neck with soft kisses.

Caitlyn hums, moving her lips to Mel’s cheek, but then she pauses and pulls back. There’s a crease between her eyebrows, her previous expression of desire replaced by concern.

“What is it?” Mel asks, but then Caitlyn gently presses the back of her hand to Mel’s forehead.

“You’re warm,” Caitlyn frowns, moving her hand to Mel’s neck. Her fingers feel delightfully cool against Mel’s skin. “I think you might be running a temperature.”

“I’m alright, it’s the same cold you have,” Mel says, although she can’t suppress a sudden shiver that shakes her frame.

“Yes, but I don’t have a fever,” Caitlyn murmurs, pressing her lips to Mel’s forehead tenderly. “Stay here, lovely. Let me get a thermometer.”

She’s on her feet and striding away before Mel can protest, but it would probably be futile anyways. She knows as well as anyone how single-minded Caitlyn can be when there’s something she wants to investigate.

Caitlyn returns quickly with a glass thermometer and also a thick blanket tucked under her arm.

“As gorgeous as this dress is on you, I think we need to take care of your cold,” Caitlyn says, unfurling the blanket and draping it over Mel’s shoulders. She hands over the thermometer, frowning again. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”

Mel, who had indeed been shivering slightly, sighs but accepts the thermometer. She puts it under her tongue, pouting a little. Kissing Caitlyn was much more fun than having her temperature taken.

“You’re adorable,” Caitlyn laughs softly, pressing a swift kiss to her cheek. “Sorry, love. I promise we can continue when you’re well.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Mel mumbles around the thermometer.

“Hush,” Caitlyn chastises, but there’s a fond smile on her lips. “Let that work.”

Mel huffs but acquiesces, pulling the blanket tighter around herself and cozying up in it. She leans her head on Caitlyn’s shoulder, who wraps an arm around her. The moment is cozy and peaceful, until Caitlyn suddenly pitches forward.

“huhEHSCHHUu!” The sneeze comes too quickly for Caitlyn to cover or even turn her head, a fine mist spraying out in front of her, glistening in the firelight.

“Bless y–” Mel starts to say around the thermometer, but she’s quickly cut off.

“Huh-huuTSCHhoo!” Caitlyn gets her hands up to her face to catch the second sneeze, then keeps them tightly clasped over her nose and mouth as she pitches forward again. “Eh–ehhTTSCHh! huh–huhRRSSCHHh! huh’huTSCHOO!”

Caitlyn sniffles thickly, sitting still with her hands cupped over her face until she’s sure she’s done. Then she deflates, her shoulders slumping with a heavy sigh.

Mel makes a sympathetic noise, thermometer still under her tongue. She reaches for a clean handkerchief and hands it over, rubbing Caitlyn’s back while she blows her nose heavily. The other woman sounds miserably congested, and Mel can easily read the exhaustion in her posture.

“‘scuse me,” Caitlyn mutters once she’s finished tending to her nose, coughing lightly into her balled-up handkerchief.

“Bless you, poor darling,” Mel soothes, after she takes the thermometer out of her own mouth. She kisses Caitlyn’s cheek, then squints down at the device, trying to read it. Her head feels a little swimmy and her eyes are watery, however, so she’s not quite able to make out the tiny numbers.

“Let me see.” Caitlyn notices her dilemma, holding out a hand for the thermometer. She frowns down at it, holding it close to her good eye. “Ah. Thirty-eight point eight. That’s definitely a fever, sweetheart.”

Caitlyn’s voice is softer and gentler than Mel’s ever heard it, and it makes something warm bloom in her chest. She cuddles back up to Caitlyn, dropping her head back to her shoulder.

“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” Mel says tiredly, brushing her nose against Caitlyn’s neck.

“Mm, yes, but you wouldn’t be sick if it weren’t for me.”

“Hey, none of that,” Mel lifts her head, cupping Caitlyn’s jaw and gently forcing her gaze to meet her own. “It isn’t your fault. And if a cold was the necessary catalyst for tonight to happen, then I’m thankful for it.”

“You’re so sweet, my teeth are rotting,” Caitlyn teases, brushing a hand over Mel’s hair, kissing her gently. “But I agree, I suppose. I still wish you weren’t ill though.”

“I wish you weren’t either,” Mel says, tucking a lock of navy hair behind Caitlyn’s ear, tracing her eyes over her face and her red, irritated nose. “We’ll just have to take care of each other, then.”

“I’m alright with that,” Caitlyn smiles.

Mel leans in, intending to kiss her again, but then her breath hitches. She pulls back, fanning a hand in front of her face, her eyes fluttering shut. “Oh – I need to – hiih–?”

“Here, I’ve got you,” Caitlyn says, and there’s a soft cloth gently cupped to Mel’s face. She’s too caught up with the impending sneeze to question it, her breath hitching wildly.

“Hiih-ih–iiTSCHhiew! chuu! ischh–hiih’tschh! huh–huTSCHhh! iitschh–hiiITCHHiew!!”

The sneezes tumble out of her, one on top of the other, and she pitches forward. Caitlyn holds the handkerchief securely to her face, neatly catching the sneezes.

“Bless you, lovely,” Caitlyn murmurs tenderly, kissing her cheek. She pinches Mel’s nose gently through the cloth to catch any remaining mess, then pulls it away. She folds it in half and holds it back up to her nose. “Blow.”

“Caitlyn…” Mel protests, but Caitlyn just gives her a soft look.

“I don’t mind, I promise. Blow.”

Mel complies, softly blowing her nose into the cloth while Caitlyn holds it, cringing a little at the amount of wetness her nose produces. But Caitlyn doesn’t bat an eye, wiping her nose for her when she finishes, and setting the handkerchief aside.

Mel’s cheeks are flaming hot, this time not due to a fever. She’s not sure she’s ever been taken care of this tenderly before. It’s unfamiliar, but also heart-achingly lovely.

“You never need to be embarrassed, with me.” Caitlyn runs her thumb over Mel’s cheekbone, then gives her a soft kiss on the lips. “You’re safe.”

Tears spring to Mel’s eyes, and she quickly brushes a hand under her eyes, looking away. “Sorry. It’s just –” She sniffles, rubbing her nose, not quite sure how to finish the sentence.

“I know,” Caitlyn says, offering the handkerchief again. “Me too.”

Something soft and unspoken passes between them, and Mel suddenly never wants to leave. But she knows she must. It’s late now, and both of them have work the next day.

“I should go,” Mel murmurs. “It’s almost midnight and you need to rest.”

“As do you,” Caitlyn frowns. “Mel, surely you’re not thinking of walking home?”

“It isn’t far,” Mel shrugs.

“It’s freezing out and you have a fever. Absolutely not. Why don’t you stay here for the night? You shouldn’t be alone with a temperature, anyway.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose…” Mel hesitates, biting her lip.

“It’s not an imposition. I have too much space in this damn mansion already.”

“I suppose it is rather late,” Mel concedes, the ache in her chest loosening when she realizes she won’t have to leave Caitlyn just yet.

“Good. It’s settled,” Caitlyn decides, then her red nose flares. She hastily reaches for a handkerchief, managing to catch most of the sudden “HuhhETSCHHuu!” that bursts out.

“Bless you, darling,” Mel hums, kissing Caitlyn’s temple. “I think you should try taking a steamy shower. It might help clear you out a bit.”

“Probably a good idea,” Caitlyn agrees, blowing her nose and sighing. “After I get you some medicine for your fever.”

Mel nods. “And did you take any of those antihistamines I brought you earlier?”

The sheepish look on Caitlyn’s face is the only answer she needs.

“They make me drowsy, and I was having enough trouble staying focused on work as it was,” Caitlyn protests. “But thank you. It was very thoughtful. I certainly used the handkerchiefs.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Mel chuckles playfully, glancing pointedly at Caitlyn’s red nose.

“Excuse me, you’re the one who’s sneezing twenty times in a row,” Caitlyn huffs, rolling her eye. “You’re certainly one to talk.”

“Touché,” Mel laughs. She stands with the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders, and holds out a hand to help Caitlyn up. “Come on then. We’re both in desperate need of some medicine and rest.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” Caitlyn laces her fingers together with Mel’s, smiling down at her from her slight height advantage. “You make this place feel warm again.”

“I’m glad I’m here too,” Mel smiles, and hand-in-hand, they walk down the hall toward the bedrooms.

Even with a cold brewing in her head, Mel can’t remember the last time she felt so happy.

—

ahh I hope you enjoyed this nearly as much as I enjoyed writing it!! I definitely plan to continue this fic, with the following day(s) they spend together and plenty of soft caretaking. lmk if you liked it, comments/dms are so appreciated!! also please no reblogging to non-kink blogs. love you all!!

(I probably will de-kink this and post it to my main account, so don't be surprised if you see it there haha).

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wetsnifflesneeze · 3 months ago

Text

strong, soft, sweet

summary: sevika is learning that it's alright to accept a little tenderness, now and then. melvika sickfic, 4k

a/n: more melvika! finally wrote some sick sev as much requested. I combined two requests for this one: “Couldn’t you keep your cold to yourself?” / “You’ve infected me” and "I don't like the sound of that cough." / "You sound like you're catching a cold."

The air in the sunroom is warm and thick, permeated with the smell of menthol and ginger tea. Sevika tugs at the collar of her shirt with her flesh hand, a steaming mug held in her metal one. She’s too hot, the air is almost stifling in here between the afternoon sun filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows and the fire burning steadily in the hearth, but she doesn’t even think about complaining. The sunroom is Mel’s favorite room to lounge in, and she always gets a chill deep in her bones whenever she’s sick, so Sevika has been keeping the room warm and Mel wrapped in a thick blanket. Sevika will do anything to make Mel comfortable — even if it means sweating through her shirt.

“More tea, baby,” Sevika murmurs, carefully setting the mug on the coffee table and sitting down next to Mel.

“Thank you.” Mel’s voice has been reduced to a hoarse, congested wisp of a sound, and Sevika finds herself giving a sympathetic hum, pressing her lips to Mel’s temple.

“You need anything else?” Sevika’s chest aches faintly as she studies Mel’s face, her eyes lingering on the purplish bags under Mel’s eyes and the deep red of her irritated nose. Sevika’s always been on the protective side when it comes to Mel, even though the mage is a force to be reckoned with in her own right. But when she’s down for the count like this, worn thin by a head cold, all Sevika wants to do is hold her close until she’s well again.

“No, I’m –” Mel starts to answer, then pitches forward with a sudden sneeze, quickly followed by several more. Sevika leans back slightly to avoid getting caught in the line of fire.

“Bless you,” Sevika says with a hint of a chuckle, reaching for a handkerchief. “You know I love you, sweet thing, but I would really prefer if you kept this cold to yourself. Here.” She hands over the white cloth, which Mel accepts with a sigh and buries her nose into it.

“Sorry, darling, it came out of nowhere,” Mel grimaces from behind the handkerchief pressed to her face. She blows her nose, although it doesn’t sound like it helps much with her congestion. “I hope you don’t catch this,” Mel adds, before she’s caught off guard by her breath catching on a cough. She hastily buries her face in her elbow, and Sevika rubs her back, patiently waiting for the fit to ease.

“Sorry,” Mel repeats when she’s finished, grimacing slightly, her dark eyelashes coated with irritated tears.

Sevika frowns in concern, brushing a hand over Mel’s curls that are loose and pooling around her shoulders. “You’re fine, doll, I’m just teasing. I know you can’t help it.” She kisses her cheek, then holds a glass of water to Mel’s lips. “Drink.”

Mel takes a few sips of water before pulling away, wearily resting her head on Sevika’s shoulder. Sevika scoots closer so that Mel can be more comfortable, wrapping an arm around her blanket-clad shoulders.

She’ll hold her love for as long as she needs, germs be damned.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

A few days later, after innumerable cups of tea and long nights Sevika stays up trying to help Mel ease her symptoms long enough to get some proper rest, Mel is finally more or less recovered. She’s still a little tired and she has a lingering cough, but she’s looking more like her usual self, much to Sevika’s relief.

The morning sun glints off the gold tattoos running from Mel’s neck to the tips of her fingers, catching the light as she lifts her arm to add a touch of crimson to the large canvas in front of her. Sevika idly watches her from a chaise lounge nearby. It’s her usual spot when Mel paints, and she can easily spend hours out here, content to watch Mel flit around a canvas four times her size, slowly filling the white with a riot of color. The promise of a slow, peaceful day lies ahead, and Sevika can feel herself sinking into the soft cushions of the chaise, her eyes dropping shut.

Although she never minds looking after Mel, the long days and nights spent worrying over Mel’s fever, running her baths, making her tea and soup, and doing anything she can to help her feel better, have taken a toll. There’s a dull, angry ache in Sevika’s left shoulder, making the muscles there tight and sending tendrils of pain radiating up through her neck and down her back. She rolls her shoulder with a small groan, considering whether she should take her prosthetic off.

Even though she knows she’s perfectly safe here with Mel, lazing about this mansion that doubles as a fortress, it still makes her uneasy to be without her metal arm. Sure, Sevika can handle herself fine with one arm – she’s taken out plenty of goons in the undercity with just one good fist. But she likes the security her metal arm brings her, that sense of being in control, undefeatable. It’s not a feeling she’s willing to give up lightly.

“Are you alright, love?” Mel’s voice is smooth as silk, laced with soft concern. Sevika opens her eyes to see Mel frowning over at her, palette balanced on her left arm, a brush held aloft in her right.

“Fine,” Sevika says, rolling her shoulder again. “A little tired, maybe.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a handful, these past few days.” Mel sets aside her palette and comes over to the chaise, her long dress swishing with each step. “You’ve taken such excellent care of me, it’s no wonder you’re worn out.” She sits down next to Sevika and runs a hand through her hair, and Sevika’s eyes automatically close at the soothing touch.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Sevika mumbles, letting Mel guide her head down so that she’s laying in the other woman’s lap, Mel’s long fingers still carding through her hair. “I never mind taking care of you.”

“Nor do I, darling,” Mel hums, scratching her nails against Sevika’s scalp.

There’s an itch just under Sevika’s skin, a nagging thought at the back of her mind. Whenever she lets Mel softly tend to her like this, whether it be a hand in her hair or a bowl of daal Mel made just for her, there’s always a part of her that feels like it isn’t quite right.

Before she met Mel, Sevika had spent her whole life building walls. Her heart was guarded, her skin thick. She knew her job and she did it. She was the muscle, the unshakeable right-hand woman who stopped at nothing to do what needed to be done. Comfort, affection, tenderness – these aren’t things she’s experienced since she was a child. Her closed-door romps at Babette’s were simply a way to relieve tension and to have a warm body next to hers for a while. She never needed or even wanted more than that. Until Mel.

Bit by bit, Mel had unspooled the tangle of barbed wires around Sevika’s heart. There’s just something in Mel so soft, so genuine, that had wrapped around Sevika like the warmth of fire on a cold winter’s day. She found herself easing into a gentler way of life with Mel, no longer needing to be on alert at all hours of the day.

Sevika treasures her relationship with Mel more than anything. And Sevika protects what she treasures. So she’s dedicated to taking care of Mel, to making sure she’s comfortable, that she has what she needs. To soothe Mel’s aches, dry her tears, hold her the whole night through – Sevika considers these her cherished duties, and it makes her happy to do it. And although it feels nice to receive the same in return, there’s still a small, stubborn part of her that wants to curl away from Mel’s touch, to put her walls back up. Sevika is a provider, a protector. That’s where she’s comfortable. Sometimes the vulnerability that comes with being seen feels like almost too much to bear.

“Care to share what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

Sevika cracks an eye open. Mel is gazing down at her, emerald green eyes questioning, her fingers still moving in soothing, repetitive strokes through Sevika’s hair.

“Nothing.” Sevika reaches for Mel’s hand and brings it to her lips, pressing a kiss to her soft, paint-flecked palm. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Mel echoes, gently tracing a finger down the winding path of Sevika’s scars.

Sevika lets her eyes fall closed again and leans into the warmth of Mel’s touch. It may be slightly unfamiliar, but she aches for it just the same.

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It’s only later, when she’s in the kitchen with Mel, the two of them cooking dinner together in their usual nightly routine, that Sevika begins to realize she might be more than just tired.

The ache that had started in her left shoulder has blossomed and spread, leaving all her muscles tense and her joints stiff. She feels like she can’t find the right temperature either – she’s too hot with her jacket on, too chilled with it off. There’s also an annoying itch in her head that keeps making her reflexively clear her throat and scrub at her nose.

“I can do the rice, if you do the vegetables,” Mel says, glancing over her shoulder. She’s at the stove stirring a simmering pot of peppered chicken that’s filling the kitchen with the mouthwatering smell of garlic, onion and tomatoes. Sevika is always eternally grateful she ended up with a woman who can cook.

“Sure.” Sevika taps Mel lightly on the ass, which earns her a surprised yelp, and heads over to grab a knife and cutting board.

Mel had helped her live-in cook find a new job not long after Sevika moved in. The two of them share a love for cooking, and they especially enjoy doing it together. It didn’t take long to realize that they preferred to prepare their meals in tandem rather than having them served, especially Sevika, who still finds the concept of being waited on distasteful. Sevika loves these nights they spend together whipping up perfectly spiced curries and stews, and it’s become a solid part of their routine together by now.

Tonight, however, Sevika is slightly distracted by the general sense of discomfort that has settled over her body, slowing her movements. Her nose starts to run as she washes the vegetables in the sink, and she gives a few hearty sniffles to try and clear it. But that seems to worsen the burning itch in her sinuses, and it’s not long before she has to twist to direct a loud sneeze over her shoulder.

There’s a clatter as Mel jumps and drops the wooden spoon she was holding, her hand coming to her chest. “Goodness! Bless you, darling,” she exclaims, turning to Sevika.

Sevika nods her thanks, giving another thick sniffle and returning to the task at hand. Mel doesn’t seem to think much of it, because she returns to her cooking as well, swaying along to the jazz song on the record player.

But there’s a definite stuffiness in Sevika’s head now, and the sneezing leaves her throat feeling irritated and raw. As she dries the vegetables and starts chopping, she briefly wonders whether she could be getting sick. But that seems implausible. She hardly ever catches colds, unlike Mel – she can’t even remember the last time she was truly sick. It’s probably just the spice in the air, or maybe the change of seasons from winter to spring that’s bothering her.

Dinner comes together quickly and they sit down at the polished wood dining table to eat. Even though the chicken is delicious, Sevika finds herself uncharacteristically without an appetite, picking at her food, and chugging water in an attempt to soothe her throat.

Mel is telling her something about the next council meeting and an agenda she’s looking for support on, but Sevika is having a hard time focusing. Her head feels too heavy and foggy, so she props it up with an elbow on the table, resisting the urge to close her eyes. She’s suddenly longing to be in bed.

“Darling? Are you alright?” Mel asks softly, and Sevika sluggishly lifts her head.

“Fine,” Sevika grunts. But not a second later, she’s ducking into her shoulder for a throat-scraping sneeze that makes her head pound miserably. A second harsh sneeze follows in quick succession.

“Oh, my love. Bless you.” Mel’s at Sevika’s side in an instant, rubbing circles between Sevika’s shoulder blades. “I don’t like the sound of that at all.”

Sevika snorts to try and clear her nose, which makes Mel grimace slightly. Sevika knows full well that Mel hates when she does that, but she can hardly breathe through her nose now.

“Hold on,” Mel says, kissing the top of Sevika’s head and hurrying off. When she returns, it’s with a thick cotton handkerchief, which she presses into Sevika’s hands. “Use this, please.”

Sevika gives her a gruff thanks and blows her nose loudly. She’s never been one for trying to be polite about these things. No, what she wants is to be able to breathe, damn it, so she does her best to clear her stuffed sinuses.

Mel stands next to her and rubs her back while she cleans herself up, and there’s a deep frown creasing Mel’s perfectly shaped eyebrows when Sevika finally finishes and looks up at her.

“Poor darling. You sound like you’re catching a cold,” Mel murmurs, laying the back of her hand against Sevika’s forehead to check her temperature.

“Your cold,” Sevika corrects, massaging her eyes. “I think you infected me.” She shoots Mel a wry look, although there’s no real heat behind it.

“I’m sorry, love.” Mel plants a soft kiss on Sevika’s forehead. “I did my best to not pass it along.”

“You were clinging to me day and night,” Sevika scoffs, raising her eyebrows. “Hardly could get up to go to the bathroom, what with how you were wrapped around me.”

Mel’s cheeks darken ever so slightly. “You didn’t seem to mind! When have you ever cared about catching my colds?” she protests, huffing.

Sevika chuckles, then coughs roughly. “I didn’t, and I don’t,” she soothes with a grin, reaching a hand up to cup Mel’s cheek, who leans into the touch. “I’m just messing with you. It’s fine, doll.”

In one smooth motion, Mel sits down in Sevika’s lap, looping her arms around the taller woman’s neck. Sevika’s hands come to her hips automatically to steady her, heart fond at the soft, perfect feeling of Mel in her lap.

“Well, since I got you sick, it’s my duty to nurse you back to health,” Mel announces, catching Sevika’s lips in a gentle kiss. “It’s my turn to dote on you.” There’s a mischievous twinkle in her eyes and a smile playing on the corners of her mouth.

Sevika groans. “I hate doting. Just let me sleep ‘till this thing clears up, that’s what I always do. I’ll be fine in a day or two.”

“Sorry darling.” Mel brushes a kiss to Sevika’s cheek, then pulls back with a coy grin. “You are getting fussed over. It comes with the territory, and I won’t hear otherwise.”

“I’m going to hate this,” Sevika mutters, and Mel gives a bright, soft laugh that tinkles like windchimes.

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Sevika sits down heavily on the side of their massive bed, her joints protesting the movement. She drops her head to her hands with a quiet sigh, rubbing at her temples. Her head is aching, along with the rest of her body, and she feels wrung out, like all of her energy has been squeezed out of her.

The mattress dips with Mel’s weight, and a hand comes to her neck, massaging with gentle pressure. Mel kisses her shoulder, right at the end of the stump that’s exposed now that Sevika’s removed her prosthetic, lips as soft as rose petals.

“My darling,” Mel murmurs, and Sevika should hate it, the way Mel’s voice is dripping with honeyed concern. But instead, her heart is fond. “You poor thing. I hate that I got you so ill.”

Sevika lifts a shoulder, too exhausted to even protest that she doesn’t feel that bad. She’s tired of fighting it, the way Mel’s soft words and even softer touch flow over her like a soothing balm, filling the jagged cracks in her heart.

She leans away from Mel slightly to muffle a chesty cough in her shoulder, groaning afterward at the pain flaring just behind her sternum. Everything just hurts right now.

But Mel is there, her hand smoothing over the valleys and plains of Sevika’s tense shoulders, bringing comfort with each stroke of her palm.

“Let me run a bath for you.” Mel’s voice is low and soothing, and she presses a whisper of a kiss to Sevika’s cheek. “You’re so tense, Vika. And the steam will help you breathe better. Would you like some tea as well, for your throat?”

And Mel is just so fucking gentle is the thing, stroking Sevika’s back like she’s something delicate, not a woman who’s fought and hunted and hurt. It makes a thick knot of emotion rise in her throat, and she swallows hard, blinking away the burn in her eyes.

“I should just sleep.” Sevika can’t quite meet Mel’s eyes, not when the concerned, tender green of them might send tears spilling over her own cheeks. She sniffles, then sneezes suddenly, and dissolves into a fit of coughing after – a mess of all sorts.

“Oh, honey,” Mel tuts, reaching for one of the handkerchiefs she had laid out on the bedside table. Yet another kindness that Sevika isn’t sure she deserves. “You sound awful, darling. Let me help, please. I want to take care of you.”

“I don’t –” Sevika draws in a deep breath, focuses on letting it out slowly. Her throat bobs as she swallows down the lump again. “I don’t need…all this.” She waves a dispassionate hand at the medicines and supplies laid out next to the bed, Mel’s warm presence at her side. “I’ll be fine on my own.”

There’s a long moment of silence. Sevika wonders if Mel will leave, if she’ll spend the night tossing in a bed that’s too big and empty. It’s what she wants, isn’t it? To bear this moment of vulnerability alone, to sleep until she’s well enough to provide, to protect. Like this…weak, sick, what is she really worth, after all?

“You’re not on your own any longer, my love,” Mel finally murmurs. She wraps an arm around Sevika’s waist, shifting closer and brushing Sevika’s cropped hair to the side so she can press a kiss to her neck. “I’m right here, Vika.” Mel tucks her face into the dip between Sevika’s neck and shoulder, voice low and warm against her skin. “I love you, and I’m right here.”

Sevika kisses the top of Mel’s hair, burying her face in the soft, tight, curls. Her nose is too stuffed to smell the shea and coconut of Mel’s hair, but the brush of curls against her skin is familiar just the same. “And do you –” Sevika swallows, lets her words muffle into the fluff of Mel’s hair. “Do you still want me, like this?”

Mel pulls back and Sevika lifts her head to meet her gaze. Mel’s eyebrows are knitted together, confusion on her face. “Like what, darling?”

Sevika rubs at her nose with a fist, looking away. “Weak.” Her voice cracks on the word.

“Sevika.” Mel brings her hands to either side of Sevika’s face, cupping her cheeks and forcing her eyes back on her. Sevika snaps out of her spiral a little at her full name, which Mel never uses.

“You listen to me, my love,” Mel says sternly, holding Sevika’s gaze steadily. Her forest-green eyes shine with a burning resolve, and the air between them feels electrified, sparking with a hint of Mel’s magic. “I love you, always. When you’re sick, when you’re well; when you’re strong, when you can’t be strong. None of that changes how I feel about you. Ever. You’re the strongest person I know, but you don’t have to be. Not with me. I don’t love you for your strength, darling. I love you for your heart.”

Mel taps Sevika’s chest, then presses a kiss right over her heart. She looks back up at her, eyes shining more gold than green. “Got it?”

Sevika brushes a thumb under her eye. And maybe the pad of her finger is wet with a tear, but that’s neither here nor there.

“Alright,” Sevika murmurs, pulling Mel into her for a long, tender kiss. She’s always been better with touch than words. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Mel beams up at her, shining bright as the sun, and Sevika can’t believe this is the woman she gets to spend every morning waking up next to. “Now let’s see about that bath.”

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Sevika lets out a long, satisfied groan. Mel shifts to get a better angle, applying even more pressure to Sevika’s shoulder. She massages deep into Sevika’s muscles with her knuckles, slowly and patiently working out all the coils of tension.

“You are so fucking good at this,” Sevika mumbles, turning her head to the side to glance behind her. She’s laying in bed splayed out on her front while Mel straddles her from behind, massaging her back. “How are you so perfect?”

“I’m far from perfect,” Mel laughs softly, moving down to work a knot just under Sevika’s shoulder blade with the heel of her hand. “You just spent the past week listening to me sniffle and cough at you, surely you know that.”

“Mm, even your sniffles are perfect,” Sevika hums, face pressed into the mattress, then gives a cough of her own.

Mel chuckles again. “Just relax, darling. You’re still too tense.” She deepens the pressure, putting her full weight into her hand, which elicits a satisfied groan.

Sevika lets herself sink further into the bed, her thoughts going hazy as Mel massages away the aches that have been plaguing her all day. A long, hot bath had helped ease her congestion and loosen her muscles, and Mel insisted on following it up with a massage in bed.

Sevika can vaguely smell the soothing aroma of lavender as Mel scoops more lotion out of the jar she had procured from her massive collection of creams and oils. The cool feel of the lotion on her back sends a pleasant shiver through Sevika’s shoulders, and Mel’s hands are tender as she works the cream into Sevika’s skin.

It’s still unfamiliar, this gentleness, this care. And a part of Sevika still wants to fight it, wants to reject Mel’s tenderness in the name of self-reliance. She doesn’t need it, after all – she would fare just fine without Mel’s warm massages or cups of honeyed tea. But maybe, just maybe, it’s not so bad to want it.

So she lets Mel tend to her and work every inch of her muscles until she’s a loose puddle of limbs splayed in the bed. She lets Mel bring her fresh handkerchiefs, lets her take her temperature and fuss at her mild fever. She doesn’t protest the stroke of Mel’s fingers through her hair, doesn’t resist Mel pulling her into her own arms.

And finally, Sevika lets herself fall asleep wrapped in Mel’s warm, steady embrace. For once, she’s no longer trying to be strong.

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