Allergic Anniversary - (8 Parts)

[Idle_Sneeze]

Hello everyone! Long time no see.

This is my first sneeze fic... ever. And I'm fairly proud of it. It's a bit long, but I do hope that you enjoy the read! It involves Greg Proops (mainly known for Whose Line Is It Anyway?), and a female character named Shasta. I wrote this over the course of five months, so some comments would be most lovely. Thanks!

PS - This is rated R / NC-17, so younger readers, beware!

Allergic Anniversary

The steaming, sizzling of the freshly brewed coffee drizzling into the glass pot remained the sole sound of the late morning. Greg leaned against the black and silver streaked countertop for support, lazily flipping through the pages of the day’s paper, though not really focusing on the text. His tang-tinted glasses clung to the very tip of his nose as he peered over them, his gaze nothing more than a blurry haze at the moment. Trying to read the paper now was useless - it was just too early, and he was still more than halfway asleep.

A miniature bright red digital clock on the base of the coffee pot flashed, along with the faint beep of the alarm, signaling that the brew was complete. Relieved, Greg retrieved the milk and creamer from the fridge, rolling his shoulders as he did so. They cracked, and he winced as he strode towards the pot, pulling down a mug from an upper cupboard shelf. He breathed in the stream of steam with deep intakes of breath as he poured the rich brown coffee into the cup, subconsciously running his tongue over his dry, parched lips.

Less than a minute later, perfectly mixed cup of coffee in one hand, newspaper in the other, Greg strode out his back sliding glass door onto his balcony, inhaling the crisp autumn air. A chilly breeze ruffled his luxurious bathrobe and satin pajama pants. He shivered for a moment, and casually glanced back inwards, towards inside, considering returning to the comforting warmth of indoors. However, despite the frosty air, he opted to stay outside, and gently placed himself in his patio chair, putting up his feet and crossing his legs. The man proceeded to sip gingerly from the frothy mug, enjoying the feeling of the hot liquid as it slid down his throat, warming him from within. It was a nice sensation, especially when contrasted with the fall morning temperature.

Adjusting his glasses on the rim of his nose and blinking a few times, he picked up the paper again, more determined now to actually absorb some of the day’s news. He shook his head as he thumbed through it, reading a snippet here and there, but more skim reading than truly diverging into any particular article. It was all the same bullshit he would read every morning… Some crime committed here… some political debate there… almost five pages worth of celebrity and pop culture supposed ‘news’… advertisements and help wanted ads… movie reviews… blah blah blah. It wasn’t that Greg was disinterested, it was just that he felt that he could write the news for the paper. And, considering his range of knowledge on so many subjects, he probably could.

He sniffed as he returned to the front page. He was about to fold it in half to put into the recycling bin when he noticed the date - October 20th, 2008 - and seemed to freeze in place, stiffening in realization and remembrance. Of course… today was his and Shasta’s first anniversary as a dating couple! Sniffing again harshly, his nose a little numb at the tip from the cold, he hastily finished his cup and slid back indoors, relinquishing the warmth that greeted him.

Placing the cup in the dishwasher, with a stretch and a laborious yawn, he was about to round the corner when Bristol, the ocelot, came lumbering in the kitchen, her sleek coat glistening, gazing up placidly at Greg with big golden eyes. She stared at him intently, sitting on the floor a foot away from him, tail twitching anxiously. He nodded at her and opened the fridge again, pulling out the remaining leftovers of half of a baked chicken. He plucked a bowl from another cupboard and proceeded to strip off bits of meat. Bristol made deep purring noises at his feet, now brushing up against his legs, licking her chops. Occasionally Greg would look down and talk to her, but the ocelot would only growl lowly in her throat, as if it say, ‘shuttup and just hurry it up already’.

He set the bowl on the ground, and the ravenous ocelot bounded over to it and immediately began chowing down. Greg leaned over to stroke her soothingly, smiling to himself as he looked over her beautiful spotted coat. He was still petting her gently when, out of the blue, he drew in a sharp intake of breath. “Haaah… HATCHOO!” The forceful sneeze took him by surprise, and the man pitched forward so suddenly that he almost fell forwards. However, he caught himself, sniffing again and thumbing at his nose, which felt rather irritable. Shrugging and scratching the tip of it with his index finger, he meandered to his bedroom to get dressed for the day.

Greg’s walk-in closet was massive. He couldn’t lie - he liked his clothes. They were all neatly pressed, sorted, ironed, and primarily arranged according to style or type of outfit, and then by color. A series of expansive mirrors walled the interior of the closet, and as he was searching through a clump of black pants, he caught a glance of himself. He hadn’t really truly looked at himself in the mirror yet today, and the sight of himself made him jump back a bit. His eyes were utterly bloodshot, his face somewhat puffy and swollen. Eyes widening in shock and horror, he leaned in, studying his physique with dismay. What a way to look on their anniversary! “….Haaah… aaah… ASSTCCHOOOOO! …SHIT!” he cried out, the second sneeze also alarming him. He rubbed indignantly at his itchy, scratchy nose that threatened to force out a third sneeze, but he held it back, although it made his soft brown eyes water some.

He was reaching for one of his favorite suits when it occurred to him with a cold, sickening feeling that he had still not yet bought Shasta her anniversary present. He knew that he was taking her out to dinner at her favorite steakhouse, but he wanted to do something special, something memorable, to show how much he cared… But he looked at himself in the mirror again, shaking his head and grimacing. Not only would Shasta have to see him look like he’d just been hit by a truck, but he’d have to go out in public like this. Wonderful, just wonderful…

So, reserving the more formal attire for later that evening, Greg instead donned a blue, paisley button-down shirt and some casual blue jeans. Pocketing his leather wallet, he picked up his Blackberry, and saw that there was a text from Shasta that read:

Heya baby,

I’m really excited to see you tonight! I love you so much.

Your pookie,

Shasta

Greg genuinely smiled at this, and pocketed the phone. Grabbing his keys from a drawer, he exited the house and made way to the Lexus.

[Idle_Sneeze]

Allergic Anniversary - Part 2

When Greg had reached the jeweler’s, he was more than irritated. His damned nose was now somewhat clogged and stuffy, and he’d sneezed five more times just in the short twenty minute drive there. He felt like shit, he looked like shit, and he was angry with himself. He was positive it wasn’t a cold, but rather, allergies. He could only hope that after he returned home he could take some medicine, and that things would be just fine. Like hell he was going to ruin tonight with Shasta! For Christ’s sake, the poor woman hadn’t stopped talking about this particular evening of theirs for almost a month now… She had kept promising him a ‘special surprise’, too…

“Ah, good afternoon my good sir! And what royal treasure might I assist you upon seeking today?” greeted the friendly manager, who was looming over a glass counter filled to the brim with sparkling diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, amethysts, and more.

Clearing his throat, Greg began by replying, “I’m looking for something very… special.”

“Well, hahahaha,” the man laughed boastfully, throwing his arms up into the air in a dramatic gesture, “everything we have here is special!”

“Something unique then. Something that bespeaks of love,” Greg said in a very soft, eloquent tone.

“Aaaah, a token for your significant other, eh?” The man chuckled coarsely. “Of course, of course. A diamond is a girl’s best friend, no?”

“Or so the cliché goes,” Greg murmured drolly, eyes tracing across the entity of the store. They had quite the selection, in all sorts of decorative sets, from earrings to necklaces to bracelets to, naturally, rings.

“If you’d like to follow me, I’ll take you to one of our exceptional collection rooms, called ‘a key to the heart’. It withholds only the finest of cuts and craftsmanship, absolutely sure to please your lucky lady.” The stocky man gestured for Greg to follow him, and the comic followed obediently, trailing through a small hallway in-between conjoining rooms. “She will glow if you give her any one of these precious beauties I am about to show you!” the man shouted triumphantly, throwing his left arm into the air, index finger pointing towards the ceiling.

“Mmm-hmm… ASSTTCCHHOOOO!!” Greg quickly turned to sneeze into his shoulder, blushing somewhat with embarrassment.

“Gesundheit-”

“AASSSTTCHCOOOO! Haaa… aah… HATCCHOOO!”

“Goodness!” The man gave off a loud guffaw, holding his belly as his laughed at Greg’s obvious distress and humiliation. “Is it cold season already?”

“Just allergies…” Greg grumbled back sordidly, sniffing and pulling out his back pocket handkerchief, and blowing gently into it.

“Ah, yes, yes, naturally. Leaf mold and all that. Winds stirring things up. Dusts settling and then being blown around again. A few friends of mine are suffering from them rather badly right now. As a matter of fact, I even heard on the news today that those with allergic tendencies should stay indoors over the next two weeks or so, as the air content right now is just so polluted with allergens and irritants,” the manager proclaimed, nodding firmly after his somewhat long prattle.

Greg only nodded curtly at him, his annoyance level escalating somewhat. He came here to buy something for Shasta, not to be lectured. His allergies were usually comparatively mild, and he had thought nothing of spending a small portion of his morning outdoors. Besides, he couldn’t have been out there for more than half an hour. Could that have really been long enough to trigger this? He wasn’t inclined to think so… All the same, he was longing for that medicine more and more.

“Is there anything in particular you are looking for?” the man inquired as Greg blinked, sniffling and traipsing up to the elongated counter.

“A necklace with a pair of earrings to match, I think,” said Greg in a tone that was even more nasally than his normal speaking voice.

“Not a ring?” pushed the salesman with a hint in his tone.

“No, she’s not particularly fond of rings.”

“Ah.” There was a short pause of silence. “Diamond, I presume?”

“Emerald, actually, with maybe a few diamonds as well,” Greg said, casting a glance to the ceiling in thought, attempting to remember her birthstone and consequently favorite gem.

“Does she like aquamarine?” the man queried, his bushy eyebrows shooting upwards.

“Yes, actually,” Greg answered, stifling a yawn.

“Well, then you’re in luck! We have a very, very special offer for you. It features a necklace with a matching set of earrings, principally with luscious emeralds, surrounded by a dazzling ornamental display of soft aquamarines and the finest of silky diamonds. The three colors complement one another in a soothing yet intricate manner, creating a style that neither the bearer nor the beholder will ever forget!” The man retrieved a silver key, studiously opened a case, and set a velvet box on the countertop.

Greg’s fingers brushed against the soft material, and gently, he pressed open the lid to reveal an absolutely stunning set of jewelry. The pushy salesman’s words might have been showy, but they could not have even begun to do this piece of craftwork justice. It took a lot to take Greg’s breath away, but this set certainly did the moment he laid eyes on it.

“It’s perfect, I’ll take it,” Greg said firmly, never feeling so sure about a purchase ever before in his life.

“Well, sir, about the price…”

“I don’t care how much it is, I said I’ll take it. Now ring it up.”

The man seemed in total shock, but didn’t argue as he took back the case and made way to return to the cash register. Greg just smiled to himself, sinking his hands into pockets. Shasta was sure to absolutely adore her gift. At least, he direly hoped so.

[Idle_Sneeze]

Allergic Anniversary - Part 3

Greg returned to his car somewhat wide-eyed, his pocket book feeling a good deal lighter. The set had cost a whopping three grand, and that was before tax! Shaking his head, Greg only hoped that it was worth it. He obviously had that kind of money to be able to spend on her, but he couldn’t help but second guess his previous judgment on the item. There was a lot you could do with three grand. Buy a new enormous flat screen television… get at least half a new wardrobe… go on a trip… Hopefully he had made the right decision. Besides, if she didn’t like it… well, he could always take it back, right?

As he turned the keys in the ignition, he sneezed twice more, almost hitting his head against the rim of the steering wheel. A long string of curse words ensued, only to be interrupted mid-cuss by yet another sneeze. Groaning obnoxiously loudly, he briefly shut his eyes, lying his head back against the plush headrest, exhaling deeply, concentrating on trying to calm his enflamed, irritable, rather bothersome nose. He pinched the upper base of it, rubbing gently in a circular motion, his breath hitching as another sneeze threatened to escape - but he fought it back down, stomping it flat. Sighing, he brought his hands back to the wheel, and backed out of the parking lot, sniffling lightly as he returned to the main road, blinking back his watering eyes.

The drive home had been rather torturous. His damnable allergies just would not leave him be! It seemed that with every sneeze, the severe tickling sensation in his nose would only intensify, rather than soothe. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d used his hanky so frequently; he was absolutely miserable. Each sneeze left him light-headed and dizzy, and his eyes continued to stream the occasional tears as he raced home as quickly as he could. His only salvation point at that moment was the idea that the sooner he returned to his abode, the sooner he could take some medicine, and then things would be just fine. The allergy attack would quell itself, and he could go to Shasta’s in a decent condition - not in this currently wretched manner.

However, luck was just not on Greg’s side today.

Upon pulling into his driveway (after what seemed like a century’s worth of time), Greg noticed, with a cold, sickening sense of realization, that a group of Hispanic workers were about in his yard. Two of them had their backs to him as they were re-painting his fading garage door a new brilliant white with long, extended rollers. There was another trimming the overly-tall blades of fresh emerald grass of his lawn on a sit-down mower, grass bits spewing into the air to create a dusty haze, while yet another worker was traipsing about with a giant leaf blower, headphones on and not really seeming to care exactly where said blustering leaves were going. He honked the horn once lightly, throwing up one hand in exasperation as the two workers painting slowly turned around, clearly annoyed. The taller and burlier of the two, a man who seemed to be in his thirties, ambled towards him, his jean overalls splattered in paint.

Greg begrudgingly rolled down the window as the worker approached his car, and hoped like hell that the man wouldn’t actually get too close to the vehicle, lest he accidentally get some paint on its sleek body. The worker, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead and adjusting the baseball cap that sat askew on a head of fraying ebony locks, leaned over, and spoke in a husky voice laden with a thick Spanish accent.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Proops.” He reached up to tip the cap with an edgy smile.

“Hello, Julio. I really need to get inside pronto. Can I please park my car in the garage now?” he pressed with all due urgency.

“Sorry, no can do Mr. Proops,” the man replied politely. “We haven’t finished the paint job yet, and then it still has to dry. The door can’t go up right now.”

Fuck the paint job and just let me into the garage! Greg thought bitterly, chewing on his lower lip, grumbling under his breath. “Are you sure there’s no possible way-”

“I apologize, really I do, but you gotta park out here for now,” the man interrupted, his formalities failing him.

“Alright, alright, fi-HASSTTCCHOOOOO!” The sneeze had crept up from behind, sneaking in the shadows, and then sprang forth out of nowhere to suddenly and violently attack him. But it didn’t stop there - oh no. It was immediately followed by a rapid-fire series of five contiguous sneezes, each pitching the poor man forward as his eyelids would flutter and he’d bring up his handkerchief time and time again. The Hispanic worker opposite him was cackling with obvious amusement at his distress, bent at his waist and guffawing, pointing with glee. Greg only glared daggers at him and would attempt to speak, only to be cut off again by yet another sneeze, which would send the worker into a fit of gruff chuckling once more.

“Don’t you have work to be doing?” Greg growled lowly once the attack had subsided, arching one demeaning eyebrow. He was usually not so rude nor blunt, but feeling as awful as he did combined with being mocked was not his cup of tea.

“Yes, yes, sorry, sorry…” the worker wheezed out, and trampled back to his co-worker, leaning in and whispering and pointing at Greg, a wide smirk still slapped on his face.

Greg, beyond disgruntled at this, parked the car on the cement driveway and exited, holding a spare handkerchief (his other was… rather soiled, to say the least) over his nose and mouth. However, the idea that he would be protecting himself by the thin cloth began to dissipate the moment he left the barrier of the Lexus. It only took a single inhale for the edges of his nose to quiver and tremble as the allergens waged war. The air was absolutely chock full of irritants, from the blowing leaves, to bits of freshly cut grass, to pollen, to molds, to dusts, and it was sending his allergies into a frenzy. Throat clenching, inhaling in short, rapid intakes, as quickly as he could, he sprinted from the car and made a mad dash to his front door. All the workers were staring at him now, seeming to wait for the moment when the next attack would strike. But Greg was doing his damned hardest not to pleasure them with this, as he scrounged for his keys in his pockets, eyes watering, chest cavity tightening.

The key had just been plunged into its appropriate keyhole when he couldn’t hold back any longer. His head snapped back violently, face contorted in pain. “Haaah… aaah… aaah… aaaaah…. HASSSTTCCHOOOOOOO! Aaaah… aaah…. ASSSTTCCHOOOOOOO! HATCCCCHOOOOO! Aaaah….ASSTTCHOOOOOO! ….Aaaah… haaah… aah… HAASSSTTTCCHOOOOOOO!! ATTCCHOOO!” He fell against the doorframe for support, panting, rubbing his upper chest cavity and wincing. His nose burned on fire, his lungs as well, cursing under his breath, but not loud enough for anyone to hear. He felt too damn awful to care that now all of the workers were sniggering. Instead, he just turned the key and entered his home, slamming the door behind him.

[Idle_Sneeze]

Allergic Anniversary - Part 4

Kicking off his shoes, he staggered towards the bathroom in all due haste, sneezing twice more into his sleeve, sniffing heavily, his nose a congested mess. After tackling the Kleenex box and filling up the trash bin more than halfway with tissues, he flung open the medicine cabinet, rummaging through all of the small labeled boxes and bottles.

His heart plummeted into the bottom of his stomach. There was no medicine to be had.

He felt like crying at this point, but instead let out a soft scream of frustration. Both his hands leapt to his forehead as, wide-eyed in disbelief, he stared at the medicine cabinet, as if by doing so, some elixir would magically materialize. After a moment or two of this, his arms dropped lifelessly to his sides, his head flopping down, chin resting on his chest.

Teeth gritted, fists clenched, he restrained himself to keep calm, to relax. But how could he relax when he felt and looked like hell?! He asked himself this very same question repeatedly, and caught a glance of himself in the mirror, visibly flinching at the sight. How on Earth was he supposed to present himself to Shasta tonight, on their anniversary of all nights, looking like this? His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and his nose was redder than Rudolph’s. Even his skin tone seemed sickly and pale, like he’d been in a hospital ward, not simply suffering an allergy attack.

Glancing to his watch, he noted, with an overwhelming sense of dismay, that he was supposed to be at Shasta’s in less than an hour and a half. The traffic this time of day was dreadful, and he still had to re-dress himself and do his last minute preparations before going to Shasta’s. There was just not a sufficient amount of time to go to a drugstore and get back before he needed to leave for her place. Sighing, he returned to massaging his temples, doing his best to ignore his still-tickling pesky nostrils.

It was then that his phone rang, the brisk ringing chime echoing throughout his house. He stumbled into the hallway where the nearest phone set lay, and picked up the receiver, bringing it to his ear and mumbling out in a terribly congested tone, “Hello?”

“…Greg?”

“Shasta?”

“Oh god, is that you?”

Greg paused for a moment, sniffing slightly. “Yes, it’s me darling,” he said sweetly, though thoroughly embarrassed.

“Oh! Christ, for a moment there it sounded like the Loch Ness monster on the other side or something. You sound terrible!”

“It’s nothing,” he lied fervently, thumbing his nose with his opposite hand as it twitched again.

“Are you sick? You sound very stuffed up.” Her own voice was dripping with anxiety and genuine worry.

“No, just some allergies,” he was quick to refute, sniffing again, breath hitching once as he felt a queasy flutter in one nostril cavity, but fought it back down. “How are you, honey?”

She ignored his question completely. “Are you sure you’re ok? You can tell me you know. I won’t be mad if you’re ill and have to cancel tonight.”

Greg inwardly scoffed. Knowing Shasta as well as he did, he knew that if he did cancel - which he never would unless it was something far more dire than this - she would be absolutely infuriated. “No darling, it’s just some… some… so… som… aaah… ASSTTCCHOOOOO! HASSTCCCHOOOOOOO!!” He sneezed directly into the phone, though he certainly didn’t mean to. Blowing his nose and wiping off the receiver, he brought it back up. “I’m sorry… Shasta? You still there?” he inquired, his tone even more laden with congestion now, if at all possible. There was a moment of silence on the other end, and panicking, he hastily sputtered out, “It’s just allergies, I swear to god! I just need some medicine and I’ll be just fine.”

Another moment of quietude passed, and Greg began to wonder if she hung up. However, her voice filtered back through the line again in an even softer, more serene tone. “You don’t have any medicine there?”

“No… I’m fucking all out,” he spat back bitterly and angrily.

“Well, if you can wait till you come over, I’m sure I have some here.”

Though not particularly pleased with the idea of having to suffer through this for at least another hour or so, he instantly agreed that this would be the wisest option. “That’d be lovely,” he said back honestly, still sniffling. “I’m really sorry honey, this just crept up out of nowhere today.”

“Don’t be sorry, you can’t help it. I didn’t even know you had allergies.”

“Yeah, well, usually it doesn’t strike me this bad. It doesn’t happen very oft… of… oft… of… aaah… haaah… haaah… aah… ASSSTTCCHOOOOOOO! God DAMNIT! …Very often,” he finished, wanting to rip off his nose and throw it across the room.

There was giggling on the other line, which made Greg grow hot around the cheeks. “You’re so adorable Greg, you know that?” the young woman said in a dreamy tone. Greg arched an eyebrow, not sure what to make of this as she continued. “I love you, so much.”

He blinked, but smiled warmly at this. “I love you too, Shasta.”

“Are you sure you’re alright? I could come over there and make you some chicken noodle soup or something…”

“I’m fine, it’s our fucking anniversary, and we’re having steak.”

“Alright, if you insist.”

“I do.”

“Well… good. See you later then?” she inquired sincerely. Greg could just picture her cradling the phone to her ear.

“Of course. And you’ll have some medicine there?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Good, good… Ok, see you soon, honey.”

“See you soon.”

They hung up simultaneously, and upon resetting the phone in its charger, Greg lumbered to his bed and flopped face-first onto his comforter, groaning into the sheet - only to sneeze.

[Idle_Sneeze]

Allergic Anniversary - Part 5

Greg’s eyelids fluttered back open some twenty minutes later, smacking his lips and running his tongue over them, only to shut his eyes again, moaning into the comforter. He had briefly fallen asleep askew on top of the bed, more worn out than he had originally thought. His glasses lay a foot away on the corner of the nightstand, and at the moment, he felt so fatigued that he didn’t want to so much as move, despite the fact that he was running out of time for his appointment that evening.

Still sprawled sideways on the king size bed with deep azure coloring with one leg almost dangling off the edge, his right hand subconsciously snuck to a pillow, dragging it and propping it under his head. Readjusting himself, he buried his face into the pillow, smashing his hair in the process, but not giving a damn. His breathing slowly began to fall again as sleep beckoned him back. He assured himself that another five to ten minutes surely would not affect his scheduling…

Greg was just at sleep’s doors when there was a light pawing at the back of his neck. Upon not stirring, the pawing became more persistent, and there was a bit of a low growl from the pestering animal. It was Bristol the ocelot once more, this time demanding her dinner after a day of frolicking outside. Greg lazily lifted his left hand to try and shove her away, but the ocelot became rock-like and wouldn’t budge. She cried softly, pawing once more, and then crawled onto his back to knead his shoulder blades. Greg winced; ocelots aren’t exactly light in weight, and Bristol’s kneading was fierce and arduous. Crying out a second time, she nuzzled into the back of his neck, purring gently, licking it twice with her rough tongue. He squirmed, but still felt too tired to even shift. The ocelot, ever insistent and growing short with patience, slid off his back and pushed herself right into Greg’s face, burrowing herself between the pillow and his head, pressing against him and nudging him harshly. She rubbed her soft, spotted coat against him, brushing up and flicking her tail with disgruntlement. She repeated this twice, practically suffocating him with the sheer force of the action, now growling brashly with urgency.

Greg suddenly shot straight up, the ocelot leaping into the air and landing a few feet opposite him, shaking herself briskly. The reason for his sudden reemergence was not necessarily due to her pestering, as the action itself was something she repeated on almost a daily basis. No… it was the fact that his nose was on absolute fire, prickling and burning with such an itching sensation that it was driving him insane. He looked on in horror as Bristol continued to shake herself, and various colored bits of particles flew into the air, creating a small cloud of dust. The ocelot was absolutely covered, from head to toe, in outdoor debris, and Greg had just had full facial frontal contact with it.

He sat rigid as the buildup formed, his entire torso constricting tightly, fists clenched into two small, sweaty palms as the tingling, tickling sensation swelled and overtook him. His heart seemed to pound in his chest as he drew in sharp, short little breaths, eyes clenched shut. He would have attempted to quell it, but it was having such an overpowering effect on him that it was as if he was bound and chained, utterly paralyzed. Helplessly, he perched there, in absolute pain as the tightening feeling intensified, the ocelot looking on listlessly as her owner gripped the edges of the comforter, enwrapping its cloth around his fingers. His head kept pitching back, but the torturous buildup was being far too cruel and evil with him, not allowing itself to be released just yet. Tears streamed down his face as he attempted to fight it, but it was useless.

Bristol, cocking her head to the one side, jumped back up onto the bed, and traipsed over to Greg’s lap, rubbing up against his chest, sending another small flurry of powdered irritants into the air. It was this that finally sent him over the edge. He endeavored to lift his hands to cover his mouth, but it happened too rapidly. “Haaah… HASSSTTTCCHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! HASSSSTTCCHOOOOO! EEETSSCCHOOOOOO! Haaah.. .aaah… EEETSSCCCHOOOOOOO! HASSTEETTCCHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

Greg had never sneezed so many times before in his life; the attack continued for ten minutes straight. It would subsidize just long enough for him to get some oxygen, and then it’d fire right back up again, throwing him right back to the floor mercilessly. Bristol thought nothing of her owner’s distress and gyrated around him, rubbing against him occasionally and purring, which would only heighten his frenzy further. Frozen in time and space, he could not so much as swat her away, let alone move, as potent sneeze after sneeze left the man trembling.

“Bri… Br… Bri… … Bris…. Bri…” He sniffed sharply, repeatedly, in short little whiffs. “Bris… Bri… Bris-aaah…. Bri-eehaah…. Aaah…. Aaah… heeaaha… aaah…. Bris… Bri… Briaah…. Aaah…. Bri-EETTSSCCHOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! HASSSTTCCHOOOOOOOOOO! …BRISTOL! G-get… ge… ge-aaah… geeee-taaah…. Aaah… heeaah…aeeeeh… EEETTSCCCHOOOO! HASSTCCHOOOO! Haa… aah… ASSTTCCHOOOOOO! GET DOWN! BRISTOL, GET DOWN!” he was finally able to manage out in-between the persistent attack, commanding her with a pointed, demanding finger. The ocelot, glaring, obeyed, and stalked out of the bedroom, sulking and swishing her tail lowly along the floor as her owner continued to sneeze time and time again into his handkerchief.

At last, with Bristol finally gone, though irritants still swam rampant throughout the air, the attack was beginning to slow down some, and he regained control of his movements. Greg’s whole body throbbed and pulsed, his heart hammering in his chest. He blinked briskly, regaining his vision that had become blurred by streaming tears and pressure from shutting them closed so firmly. He managed to stand, and stole a quick glance to the clock and panicked. He was supposed to leave the house in a mere twenty minutes!

Flustered, he raced as best he could back to the bathroom, turned the tap water on high, cupped his hands under the faucet, and proceeded to splash his face with the cold liquids. Breathing finally dawdling, the sneezes became less and less frequent, and with the help of continually washing his face and hands with soap and water, the irritants that had so zealously clung to him were meticulously scrubbed away. The occasional sneeze would still escape, but Greg just dealt with it, telling himself that soon, Shasta would present him with the gift of medicine, and all would be well in the world.

In a mad dash, he returned to the bedroom (which sent his nose twitching once more, but he fought it down), thrust himself into the closet, and stripped. Standing in nothing but his briefs, he surveyed his row of suits. Arching one eyebrow, he chose his deep navy blue one, knowing how blue was Shasta’s favorite color. He threw on the matching indigo pants and put a sapphire blue button-up top on to go underneath the blazer. Swiftly with ease, hands well accustomed to the act (to the point where it was likely he could do it in his sleep), he attached a snazzy tie with an intricate, geometric pattern that was also of all shades of blue. The blazer came on last, and he buttoned it down, completing the ensemble by adding the last finishing touch by stuffing one of his finest hand-crafted satin handkerchiefs into the upper left pocket. He studied himself in the mirror and nodded firmly. No matter how shitty and swollen his face looked, at least he was dressed in most fashionable, attractive attire.

Attaching a different watch, one of his Rolexes, he noted that he had less than ten minutes left to leave. Fleeting once more back into the bathroom, he progressed to fixing his hair, which had become rather smashed and disarraying from his short nap on the bed and the consequential happenings afterwards. Taking a comb and a bottle of spray, he floofed it as high as he could manage it - just the way Shasta liked it (or so she would love to tell him constantly, anyway). It was slightly curled, but it stood quite high, in the famous style that he was so well known for. Some said it was a bit of a messy look, or referred to him as Buddy Holly - but either way, he was satisfied with it.

Mentally, he checked off what all was left to be done. Bristol still needed her dinner, but he decided to save that lovely little task for when he returned home, or else be faced with yet another horrendous attack. He wasn’t sure if his poor raw nose could handle much more of that tonight, and didn’t wish to risk another confrontation with the ocelot. Besides, she had plenty of other food still available, so he opted that for later. He was also originally going to wrap Shasta’s gift, but decide to just try and time it so that he could drop the necklace over her head at one point instead.

After racking his brain, he decided that it was time to go. Something still nagged at him that he was forgetting something fairly important, but for the life of him, he could not fathom exactly what. So, shrugging and frantic to just get to Shasta’s so that he’d stop stressing over it, for the second time that day, he pocketed his wallet and keys and strode to the front door.

[Idle_Sneeze]

Allergic Anniversary - Part 6

Greg threw open the front door and, upon striding forcefully through it, almost collided with a thing on the other side.

And that thing happened to be a massive bouquet of a vast arrangement of assorted freshly-cut flowers.

Of course, the flowers weren’t just hovering in mid-air. They were attached to a person, a young man in his early twenties who looked practically as alarmed as Greg, whose somewhat medium height only just barely made his light blond head visible over the towering vase.

“Um… er… em… Mr. Proops… sir?” came the shaky, uneven voice of the young man. “Is this… the… um… correct… address…?”

Oh FUCK! Greg had utterly forgotten about the arrangement he had ordered for Shasta - he knew that he was forgetting something, he just knew it! And sure enough, his intuition had been correct once again. But oh, what a thing to overlook… What a horrible, overly-pollinated, gigantic, highly-scented, allergen-driven thing to overlook…

So, of course, naturally, Greg’s response was an deep intake of breath, a rapid fluttering of the eyelids, a bracing of himself against the frame of the door, and then, the inevitable, “HASSSSTTTCCCHOOOOOOOOOOO!! Haaa…. HASSTTCCHOOOO! EEETTSSCCHOOOOO! Haaaa… aaeeh… heeaah… aaah… ASSTTCCHOOOOOO!!!”

“Mr… Proops?”

“Ye--- HASASSTTCCHOOOOO!!”

“…Sir?”

Greg was panting against the frame, forehead resting against the wooden exterior, his breath hitching occasionally, one hand out-stretched as his hand made a ‘stop’ sign. The poor flower delivery man was perplexed by this, but all Greg could do was attempt to regain composure. Slowly he fought off the attack, and hastily blew his battered, scarlet-tinged nose repeatedly into a fresh handkerchief. After a good minute or so of this, he straightened himself, readjusted his tie subconsciously, and then turned to readdress the man, breathing inwardly as minimally as possible.

“Yes, I ordered those last week,” he mumbled out in a very congested tone. “Where do I sign?”

“J-j-just here,” the man squeaked out as if afraid, and a meek and tiny, pale hand outstretched and revealed a mellowed yellow piece of parchment and a pen covered in some sort of slime that made Greg want to gag. Nevertheless, although reluctantly, he took the pen and signed as quickly as his hand allowed, thrusting it back towards the man with in an almost resentful, hostile manner.

“En-enjoy your f-flowers, Mr. Proops,” the young man wheezed back, and set the vase at Greg’s feet, the man’s awkwardly thin body and white and blue uniform exposed. He sort of bobbled his head like the plastic kind you put in your car, and then fled away back towards his van, as if some terrible monster was nipping at his heels.

Greg glared at the vase in utter contempt, whipping out the handkerchief to sneeze into it twice more. At least the gardeners were gone and there was no one left to sneer and jeer at his torment, but his animosity was escalating all the same. Half of him wanted to just leave the flowers there on his doorstep and let them wilt and rot. However, they had cost a small fortune, and he knew that it’d make Shasta happy if he showed up with this giant arrangement. But at this same time, having the flowers be in the car with him would drive his allergies absolutely wild, and he really didn’t need that right now.

Oh, decisions, decisions…

God damn… fuck it.

Groaning as loudly as possible, simply because he could not possibly have been more annoyed, he bent over and scooped up the vase (jesus, it was heavy!) and trudged with it to the car.

Already he was regretting his decision. His nostrils twitched and itched something terrible, his nose just shrieking at him in antagonizing agony. But he gritted his teeth, and set it in the back seat, propping the vase on the floor on the opposite side of the car and positioning it so that hopefully it wouldn’t topple over during the ride. Once the glass vase was out of his hands, his body trembled, prickled with goosebumps, and he sneezed so vehemently that it hurt. He cussed and swore at the top of his lungs, and rounded about to the other side, tossing himself into the drivers seat and shouting with hot air to no one but himself as he buckled his seatbelt, doing his best not to wrinkle his suit.

Greg had (ever so faintly) hoped that by putting the flowers in the back seat the distance would help matters some. This, of course, could not be further from the truth. The pollen was swirling nicely into the air, almost creating a golden haze, as the car rolled and bounced along the uneven pavement. Greg just glared angrily through his tinted frames, muttering incoherently, inaudibly under his breath and sneezing occasionally, his nose a congested, clogged mess. His whole nasal passage canal felt like a backed-up sewer system that threatened to explode in the worst way possible. He’d sneeze and sneeze relentlessly, not even bothering to try and hold them back now, knowing that it was futile. The flowers, had they had faces and personalities, would have been smiling evilly at his torment.

He raced along the side streets, avoiding the highways at this time of day. He prayed aloud that there’d be no cops, as he was already going a good fifteen miles per hour over the speed limit, but he felt he had no choice. He had to get to Shasta’s as quickly as possible and relieve himself. Shasta would have medicine, and she could shove the wretched flowers in some room and lock the door. Shasta had cats, but they were strictly indoors, and she kept her house well-dusted, so it should be heaven to enter through her door…

It was this thought that contented him for the meantime as he zipped across town towards Shasta’s small home. She lived a bit away from the city in a less populated area with larger acreage. It was a quaint area - not exactly rural, but not suburban either. Greg liked it, and Shasta certainly did. She had grown up in the country as a youth, and liked her space and quiet lifestyle, away from the congestion and loud hustle and bustle of the city. Greg, on the other hand, was somewhat forced to live amongst the confusion of the traffic. His work demanded it. But it was no matter - the commute back and forth between their places wasn’t that far.

Precisely four minutes before the time he was due to arrive, Greg slid into her driveway, his head colliding harshly with the headrest in exasperation. His shoulders visibly slumped as he let out a low moan, not believing that, at long last, he’d finally arrived. His right hand lazily crept to his forehead and massaged his temples, stifling another sneeze. His eyes trickled to the passenger seat and he remembered the gift he’d purchased Shasta earlier. Unbuckling himself, he pocketed the velvet case inside his blazer in a hidden compartment. It made a bit of an awkward bulge, but he was sure Shasta wouldn’t notice.

He pried himself from the car and rounded to the back, grumbling and growling as he flung open the door. If Greg’s glare was poison, the flowers would have become instant ash. He wretched the vase from the floor, slammed the door shut, sneezed twice more, and traipsed to Shasta’s front door. At last, finally, he was here, and their anniversary could begin.

[Idle_Sneeze]

Allergic Anniversary - Part 7

After taking a moment or two to run a few fingers through his hair, straighten his tie at least twice, re-tuck the handkerchief in the blazer font pocket, and smooth out the wrinkles in his suit, Greg deemed himself ready - or, at least, as ready as he’d ever be at this point. So, letting out a low puff of air, he studiously lifted his left hand and rang Shasta’s doorbell, listening as it gave out a melodious chime.

The second chime had only begun its tone when the door was thrown open, and a young woman was standing upon the doorstep, clad in a sleeveless azure dress top with sequined lining with a long and plain yet classy skirt to match, accompanied by a set of high heels. Greg sucked in his breath as he looked her over, somewhat flabbergasted. Was this… Shasta? It couldn’t possibly be… Shasta never dressed this way…

“Is it too much? God, fuck, it’s too much, isn’t it? Christ, you don’t like it. Fuck, I TOLD the woman at the store that I look so awful in skirts-”

“Shasta,” Greg interjected, abruptly cutting off the flustered woman. “You look… ravishing, darling.”

“…Really?” she asked, her tone clearly indicating that she didn’t believe him.

“Mmm-hmm, really,” he assured her, smiling broadly. Shasta was always so overly self-conscious, and usually it took a lot of convincing to change her mind about anything. “Hello, by the way,” he said, leaning in to kiss her on the lips. It was brief, but a tender moment all the same. When they broke apart, both were smiling, and she was blushing some. “Happy Anniversary, Shasta,” he continued, holding up the enormous vase of flowers and presenting it to her.

“Oh GREG!” she practically shrieked, bobbing a bit in place like a giddy schoolgirl. “Those are absolutely BEAUTIFUL! Oh gosh!! You shouldn’t have, really!” She happily accepted the offering, closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath and smelling their sweet scent. “They’re lovely, Greg, you’re always so thoughtful, and… Greg? You alright?”

“J-just… one… one m-moment… h-honey… j-j-just a… a sec… a…. HASSTTCCHOOOOOOO!!! Haaah… aaah… ASSTTTCCHOOOOOOOO!!! EETSSCCHOOOOO! Haaahhh… HASTTCCHOOOOO!” He hadn’t been quick enough to get out the hanky, so he had instead had to turn to sneeze into his sleeve. Now it was his turn to blush, and he felt his cheeks grow hot as Shasta giggled in the background, attempting to hide her wide grin but failing.

“Bless you,” she said softly.

“Thanks…” he grumbled lowly, turning away for a moment to blow his nose.

“I suppose that your allergies are still bothering you, then?”

“Obviously,” he spat back a little more sordidly than intended, and quickly realized this. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I’ve really had a miserable day. It’s been hell, actually. For the life of me, I can’t stop sneezing, and it’s driving me fucking insane.”

“There, there, don’t be a disgruntled little Greg,” Shasta said mockingly, albeit with a smile, and leaned in to peck him on the cheek. “You’re with me now, so things will get much better.”

“I really fucking hope so.”

“They will. Come on inside, unless you prefer to stand on the doorstep all evening.”

Shasta rounded on her heel and swiftly entered back into the house, Greg following in pursuit and shutting the door behind him. Per usual, Shasta’s house was spotless, decorated with a mixture of contemporary and casual designs. Shasta, being a web designer, had a strong artistic taste, and each room in her house had a sort of flair about it. Her living room was decorated with posters that she had made herself, with intricate designs and patterns that she had hand-created or sketched or done digitally. Sure enough, he noticed a new piece behind a black frame sitting over her scarlet couch.

“Looks nice. Did you create this in… what do you call it… Photoshop or whatnot?” Greg inquired as he strode over to it and gestured in its direction.

“No, Fireworks.” She leaned over and set the floral arrangement in the center of the coffee table. “But thanks.”

“Ah.” Greg had no clue what she was talking about, but eyed the flowers with detest. “Must you… em… keep them in here?”

“Why, what’s wrong with them?” Greg just looked at her blankly, and then, with a slightly annoyed expression, pointed to his nose. “Oh… right. I’ll put them in the bedroom then.” Rolling her eyes, but shooting him a playful look to let him know that she really didn’t mind, she picked up the vase once more and trotted off towards the opposite side of the house, down the hall to where her bedroom, bathroom, and work study resided.

“Bring me some medicine too, will you honey? Please?” Greg shouted desperately at her retreating form.

“Yeah, sure,” she called nonchalantly over her shoulder as she disappeared around the bend.

Greg paced back and forth around the living room, hands clasped behind his back, sniffing occasionally. One of Shasta’s cats, Angel, bounded into the room and demanded to be seen, and he obliged the purring marbled tabby, bending over and stroking her soft fur. Thank god he wasn’t allergic to cats! Although, his poor nose was still suffering from those damn flowers - not to mention, everything else that day. At least within a few moments, Shasta would bring him some medicine… He flopped on the couch in exhaustion just thinking about it, about how nice it’d be to go to the restaurant congestion-free.

Greg had his eyes closed when Shasta traipsed back into the living room, one of her eyebrows raised as she looked at him sprawled on the couch. She knelt on the floor beside him, so that their heads were level. Though Greg was smirking, obviously knowing she was there, he kept his eyes shut as she leaned inward and kissed his lips for the second time that evening, though this time it was somewhat more intimate. However, when they broke apart, the words that Shasta said next was not what Greg wanted to hear.

“I’m sorry, but… there is no medicine.”

“WHAT?!” he screeched, his voice going more high-pitched than Shasta’s could ever possibly reach. He scrambled upright, readjusting the glasses on the rim of his nose, nostrils flared, glaring fiercely.

“I’m sorry, really! I thought I had some, but I don’t.”

“What, you didn’t check earlier?! Shasta, you told me you had some! FUCK!”

“Greg-”

“No, Shasta, no! You fucking told me that you had some medicine, but god damnit, you don’t! Jesus, and to think I could depend on you, to think that I…” He trailed off when he looked back into Shasta’s eyes, eyes that had swollen and were lined with wet tears. Though there wasn’t a pill box in her hands, she did have two gift boxes with her, one in each palm.

“These are for you…” she said with a deathly quietude, and gently placed the gifts beside him, folding her hands back into her lap and biting her lower lip.

Greg glanced to the presents, to the young woman, back to the presents, then back to the somewhat emotional Shasta, who looked like she’d just been beaten with a horsewhip. Guilt instantly overwhelmed him, and he felt downright terrible. He slowly ran his tongue over his lips, and then started softly, “Shasta… I’m sorry, I apologize. I didn’t mean to lash out at you like that. It’s just that… it’s been a really long day, and I was taking it out on you.” He reached out and ran a hand down her cheek, smiling lightly. “…You OK?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled softly. “I’m sorry about the medicine-”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve dealt all day without it, I’ll continue to do so.”

“…Really?”

“Really really.”

“Well…” she sucked in her breath, and then let out a short puff. “Open your gifts, then.”

“Do you want me to?”

“Course I fucking want you to! I just told you, didn’t I?”

There’s my Shasta. “If you insist…” He reached over and grabbed the nearest box, one that was very tall and narrow, covered in blue and purple wrapping paper with a giant white bow on top. The top portion lifted off, and inside, upon raising it out of its threshold, was a bottle of fine red wine from his favorite vineyard. Knowing full well the price and just how hard it was to get a hold of this particular specialty, he was astutely aware of the pains Shasta must have had to go through just to obtain this single bottle. “Oh god… shit… Shasta, you shouldn’t have…” he breathed, admiring the bottle over the rim of his glasses and reading its label with a look of pure satisfaction.

“Yeah, you’re right, I shouldn’t have,” she sarcastically quipped back, nudging the other present in his direction. “Come on, you still have this one!” She waggled her eyebrows excitedly, picking herself up off of the floor and plopping down next to him, lying one hand on his arm.

“Honey, the wine is more than enough.”

“Open it damnit, or I’ll open it for you.”

Saying nothing but shooting her a lighthearted glance, he picked up the other box. It was rectangular in shape, of medium-size with black and silver striped paper, some shimmering silver ribbon enwrapped about the edges. He slipped off the ribbon and put it over his head and around his neck, turning to grin boldly at Shasta. She responded with a snort of laughter and, grabbing the ribbon with one hand, yanked the end of it and drew him towards her. Both grinned sideways and he chuckled under his breath as she smashed her lips against his, still both smiling through the kiss. She let out a contented sigh when they broke apart, flopping against his arm and rubbing it as he returned to opening the present once more.

He toyed with the wrapping paper, fingering the edges of the flaps, slowly pulling it backwards, the ripping sound seeming endless as he looked innocently to the ceiling, Shasta punching him playfully. Greg looked back down and his eyes lit up like an explosion of light, his jaw slackening as he withdrew a wooden box with western-like designs carved into the sides. His head swung to Shasta in shock, and she giggled and grabbed tighter onto his arm as he removed the lid.

“Oh… fuck yes…” He brought one of the Cohiba cigars up to his nostrils, sniffing gently; the box was packed to the brim with them, at least thirty cigars nestled tightly within its contents. Drool threatened to sidle out of the corner of his mouth at the mere imagination of kicking back, closing his eyes, and drawing deeply on one of those babies. A pleasurable shudder shot up his spine, and he whimpered slightly as he glanced over at Shasta with hopeful eyes.

“No,” was her immediate answer, stern and simple.

“Please?” he whined in a high-pitched manner.

“No! There’s no way in hell you’re smoking in my house. You can have one later.”

Greg feigned pouting, but leaned down to butterfly kiss Shasta on her forehead all the same. “Thank you darling, these are such wonderful gifts. You’ve really outdone yourself.”

“What can I say? I know what you like,” she replied cheekily, nuzzling against him.

“That you do…” he drawled, running one hand soothingly through her hair and sighing contently as he viewed both his treasures and the woman he loved.

At least five minutes passed whilst the two of them just sat there, snuggled up against the other, enjoying and bathing in the warmth of their bodies pressed tightly along the side of the couch. They breathed in rhythm, the lulling quietude caressing them serenely so that they sat almost in a stupor, barely moving, barely blinking. It was a moment of peace, a moment of acknowledging the presence of the other simply by the exchange of body heat, and nothing more.

The silent stillness had yet to be broken when Greg’s nose began to twitch and itch for what felt like the millionth time that day. Inwardly he groaned, his right hand jumping upwards to massage and squeeze the base of his nose. Shasta didn’t seem to notice as he sniffed in heavily, fighting back the oncoming sneeze with all his might, but the buildup persisted nonetheless. Breath hitching, his whole body suddenly convulsed and he violently pitched forward, shattering the placidness like tossing a heavy stone into an unwavering stream. The rapid-fire sneezes that ensued rang out and echoed throughout the house, as if it were an elephant with allergies, and not a single man. Shasta, shocked, sat instantly upright, rubbing his back with a wide-eyed expression as the attack continued to consume him. When it finally ceased, he flopped backwards, moaning and covering his face with both his hands.

“Bless you again…” she said once more, also softly.

Greg only sniffled in reply, ten dozen curse words scampering across his mind. He had sincerely hoped that the allergies would waver but… apparently not.

“Your poor ittle widdle nosey wosey,” Shasta teased profusely, poking him in the ribcage. “Those big bad allergies!”

A shrill whine and whimper was all that could be heard from Greg.

“Oh, come on, Greg. How bad can it be?”

“Bad,” he growled lowly in the back of his throat.

“You can’t be THAT allergic!”

“Yes, I fucking can! Once it flares up, the irritation only opens doors for more irritation. It’s a giant… fucking… irritation, sneezing, miserable party.” He folded his arms across his chest, glaring sordidly at the coffee table. “Miserable, absolutely miserable.” He sniffed indignantly.

“Well… cheer up, let’s go have some steak, huh? That’ll perk up anyone, right?” she persisted, standing up as in a call to action. “Doesn’t a nice, big, plump, juicy, well-marbled piece of meat sound delicious?”

“Are you talking about yourself or a steak?” Greg was quick to quip, arching an eyebrow as he received a light punch in the arm. “Ow… watch it there, or no dinner for you!”

“Humph!” Shasta stuck her nose in the air and stomped away in the direction of the bedroom.

“…Honey? Honey, where you going? I was only joking, hon,” Greg called over his shoulder as she sauntered away.

“I KNOW, dear,” her voice rang back, dripping with sarcasm. “So was I. I’m relieving my bladder before we go, if that’s alright by you.”

“Fine, fine, but hurry it up! It’s getting late, and the later it gets, the more crowded it’ll be!” He waited for a moment, but there was no response. Shrugging, he picked up the wine bottle once more and continued to examine it feverishly.

[anon]

ohmygoshh i love this! I'm not sure who Greg is, but this story is realllyyyy goodd!!

[Shay]

That was just wow! Tons of delicious sneezing and bondage.....

[wishiwassneezy]

This story was HOT! I adore it!

[krazykat]

Not sure how I missed this and I don't find Greg Poops attractive in the slightest but that was

[Yuzuki]

I've never seen this show before.

But I really totally enjoyed this story!

[CarellFan]

Wow, I can't believe this was your first sneeze fic -- you should be proud -- very well done!! I really enjoyed it from start to finish. Loved your writing style. I could picture every build up, and I loved how so many different things kept getting in his way! I totally know Greg (I mean as a comic, not in real life!) and tend to have a 'thing' for comedians in general (funny guys always get to me eventually *sigh*) so it was nice enough to picture him sneezing, even though I hadn't really thought of him 'that way' before (uh-oh, guess I will now though, LOL). Does he actually have allergies in real life, or did you just make that up?

[Idle_Sneeze]

I don't know if he has allergies in real life or not, but I see him as the type of person who definitely would, haha.

But thank you to everyone who has been reading this and commenting!