One Night

[hiyou9]

This is very angsty and sort of soap opera-y, which is probably why it was so delightfully fun to write Enjoy!

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One Night

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I murmured as I lay flat on my back—wearing only my underwear—in the bed of a man I had known for a grand total of five hours.

A man who I knew nothing about.

Most importantly, a man who was not my husband.

“Probably not,” he agreed sleepily.

I don’t understand why men always fall asleep almost immediately following sex. It’s almost insulting, really. Was I that lousy? So lousy that I put you to sleep?

“I feel sick,” I mumbled.

“Don’t beat yourself up,” he said nonchalantly, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m married, too.”

“No, I...hhhh...heh...het’chiew! Itchiew! I really feel sick,” I said, sitting up.

He sat up, too, “Like, you have a cold?” he asked anxiously.

“Possibly,” I sighed as I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Now I’ll probably catch it, too,” he complained.

“Your concern is touching,” I said dryly, “I was toohhhh...heh...h’ettichiew! Ishoo! Too drunk to notice how crappy I was feeling until now.”

“How crappy is crappy?” he asked.

How crappy was crappy? I had a head that felt like it was full of cement, a throat that felt as though it had been sand papered, a near constant tickle in my nose; I was achy, tired, and I had the shivers.

“Not so bad,” I shrugged. I didn’t want the night to be a total waste, and I wasn’t ready for it to end yet, “It might just even be allergies.”

“What are you allergic to?” he asked skeptically.

Truthfully, not much of anything.

“Lots of stuff. Cats, dogs, pollen, feathers, dust, perfume, mold—the list goes on. I sneeze a lot,” I said.

“You said you felt sick,” he pointed out.

“Well,” I said, looking at my lap, “Sometimes my all...all...all...hehhhhhh...hhh...HETCHIEEEW! Jesus, bless me, sorry. Sometimes my allergies make me feel that way.”

“Oh,” he said.

“Yeah.”

We sat in an awkward silence for several long minutes. He was the first to break it, “Do you...want to come to the kitchen for something to drink?”

All I really wanted to do was go home, wallow in guilt, cry, overdose on Nyquil, and go to bed.

“Sure. A drink would be lovely.”

I got out of bed and put my slinky black dress back on. I wanted to wear something warmer, but asking him for a sweatshirt was out of the question. I opted to shiver and feel...yucky instead.

We walked into the kitchen; I trailed slightly behind him, shivering the whole way. I sat down at the table while he poured wine. He sat down with the two glasses.

“Heh-nxt!”

“Bless you. You’re shivering,” he pointed out.

“I’m fine,” I said listlessly.

Suddenly, he reached out and felt my forehead with surprising tenderness, “You’re hot.”

“Isn’t that why you asked me here?” I said, burying my head in my arms.

He gently lifted it and cupped my chin in his palm, “Is there anyone at home to take care you?”

I coughed—deep coughs that hurt my chest—before I answered, “My husband is on a business trip. My kids are at their grandma’s.”

“Would you like to stay the night?”

“I thought you didn’t want to get sick.”

“I don’t want to send you home in the cold when you’re sick, either. Do you want to stay over or what?”

No. Absolutely not. You’re handsome and mysterious and wonderful and dangerous and a bad idea and no good will come of that and—

“Yeah—yes. I’d...love to. Like. Like to.” I stammered.

He led me back to the bedroom and waited for me to get situated in bed. He left for a few minutes and came back with cold medicine and a thermometer, which he stuck under my tongue. It beeped, and I pulled it out and read the little numbers, “100.6.”

“That’s not too high,” he commented.

“No, it’s not,” I agreed.

“Well,” he said.

“Here we are,” I responded, and then sneezed, “Heh-hetchiew! ‘Tchiew!”

“Bless you.”

“Thagks,” I said, and frowned at the congestion in my voice.

“You don’t sound so great,” he frowned.

“So long as I look great, I don’t really see the problem,” I joked weakly, and was gratified when he gave a small laugh.

Why was I here? Why was I being so trigger happy with my life’s self-destruct button?

“Can I ask you question?” he asked cautiously.

“You can ask anything, but I can’t guarantee you’ll get an answer,” I responded.

“Why did you cheat on your husband with me?” he asked.

“You start right at the top, don’t you?” I said quietly.

Truthfully, there was no reason for me to be cheating on my husband. He was neither emotionally distant nor abusive. He was a great dad. He spent as much time at home as his job would allow. He’d never cheated on me. I should’ve been happy.

I wasn’t happy.

“I dod’t know,” I said, one of my first honest answers of the night, “I guess...heh...hhhhh...hetchiew! Ishiew! I guess...I hab a lot of discodtedt.”

“My wife cheats on me all the time,” he said bluntly, “She says she’s going to the spa, but that’s just for decorum’s sake. We both know what she’s doing. This is the first time I ever cheated on her, though.”

“Why dod’t you jusd ged divorced?” I asked, coming up on my elbows.

“It’s a lot of paperwork,” he shrugged, “And it’s a lot of time, and a lot of money. It’s not worth it.”

“But if you’re unhabby—,” I started, but he cut me off.

“Being an adult is about accepting your unhappiness in order to keep others happy, and finding ways to deal with it. This is how my wife and I deal with it,” he said simply.

“I guess,” I said doubtfully, before I sneezed again, “Hih-ishoo!”

“Bless you.”

“Thagks.”

Another long silence, punctuated only by sniffles from me. I felt like we were going to be lapsing into these a lot.

“Do you want the medicine now?” he broke the silence first.

“Oh. Yeah. Sure, thad would be...gread. Dice. It would be nice,” I said, stumbling over my words.

Why was I being so incoherent?

He smirked as he poured the medicine.

“Whad are you smirkigg ad?”

“You’re just acting really...nervous. It’s cute,” he assured me.

I blushed and said nothing, and I hoped the fever could disguise it. He handed me the little cap full of sticky red syrup, which I gulped down, grimacing, which he noticed.

“Not a fan of cold medicine?”

“Is adyode?” I said skeptically.

He thought for a moment, “I don’t hate it,” he finally said.

“You dod’t hate be,” I pointed out, “Doesd’t bean you love be, either.”

To this, he only shrugged. This made me nervous. Was he trying to indicate he had feelings developing towards me? This was not how the night was supposed to happen. We were supposed to have fantastic, mindless sex. I was supposed to go home and shower and get into bed and pretend like I’d never met him. He was not supposed to feel anything towards me.

More importantly, I was not supposed to feel anything towards him, either.

“I have do go,” I said suddenly, and threw back the covers.

He stood up, “What? Why?” he exclaimed.

I stood up as well, and bent over and pretended like I was looking for something so he wouldn’t see me cry, “Because you’re sweet add you’re takigg care of be add thad’s dot how I wadted this do happed add this is all a huge bistake ahhhhhhh...heh...HETCHIEEEW! TCHIEW! Add I just deed to go—,” but a sudden spasm of tight, congested coughs cut me off.

He started to rub my back, but abruptly stopped when I stiffened.

I stood up to look him in the eye, “I like you,” I said truthfully, “Add it scares me. Thad’s why I’b leavigg.”

He said nothing, and I started to walk towards the bedroom door.

“Will I ever see you again?”

I paused, my hand on the doorknob, “Absolutely dot,” I whispered.

I went out the front door. It was cold out, I didn’t have my car, it was 3:30, and there was no transportation in sight. But I knew where I was; I wasn’t more than a mile from my house.

I’d walk home. The cold air would help clear my mind.

I would go home. My husband would be home tomorrow. He’d take care of me—bring me soup and tea and cough syrup and extra blankets. He’d spoil me, like he always did when I got sick.

I was going to be fine. Everything was going to be fine.

At least, that is what I told myself.

[Oolia]

This is FABULOUS! I love it, so dramatic and easy to read. Your characters are very interesting, too. I don't think I've ever read a fanfic like this before!

I'm hooked!

[thesneeze123]

Yea me too,Im hooked!!!

[The Sneezster]

Fabulous. Will there be more?

Pretty please?

[lattelover09]

This is great! I'm hoping for more too.

[sneasons greetings]

This was fantastic! So hooked.

More for me too, please!

[lattelover09]

Totally agreed! This is great.

[ichixshiro14]

Wow this is great!

[Emily]

whoa this is good O v O not a fan of female sneezing at all but the storyline is interesting, and the woman makes interesting sarcastic remarks.