Beating the Heat (People and Places // July)

[Anonymouse]

*This drabble thread may contain alcohol.

I just had this idea to do a monthly theme for my drabbles this year. I totally boofed on January but February seems as good a time as any to start. The theme for February is firsts, with various drabbles focusing on first kisses, dates, and some more goofy, less Valentinesy stuff.

I'm feeling particularly gay tonight, so here's some Holtzmann (Ghostbusters 2016) and one of my lady OCs.

'-'-'-'-'

First (Time Patty Loses a Bet)

“I hope you showered,” said Patty, making a face as she peeled Holtzmann’s left sock off her foot.

“My feet are pristine, I assure you.” Holtzmann grinned wickedly. “Even if they weren't, you have no choice. You lost the bet.”

Patty huffed, irritated that Holtz was so committed to reminding her of this fact at every opportunity. It was bad enough that she had to give her foot rubs for a week, but now she had to listen to her gloating? Patty realized with dread that today was just the first of many days of torture.

“I brought my timer,” she said, placing a small hourglass on the side table and eliciting a snort from Holtzmann. “I am not doing this for even a second longer than I have to.”

“What is that?” Holtz laughed.

“I don't own a stopwatch.”

“You own a cell phone, don't you?”

“I’m not spending money on some damn alarm clock app.”

Holtzmann didn't touch that one, not wanting to compromise an already delicate agreement. Shuddering with disgust, Patty took a pale foot in one hand and brandished a bottle of lotion in the other. She was going to have some sort of buffer between her hands and Holtzmann’s feet. As Patty began kneading the soft flesh, the blonde relaxed almost instantaneously, practically melting into the couch. Patty was certain she would start purring, but she was mostly, surprisingly, silent.

“Can I watch TV while I do this?” Patty asked, jarring the engineer from her trance.

“Of course.” Holtz stretched, reaching back behind her head to grab the remote. “I'm not a monster.”

She turned on the TV; it was on the History Channel, where Patty left it. “This is all ‘reality’ bullshit now,” she said. “Change it, please.”

Holtzmann complied without objection; she was literally putty in Patty’s hands. Eventually they settled on a nature documentary. Holtz placed the remote carefully on the floor before lifting her now unoccupied hand to occupy the space beneath her nostrils. Even from the corner of her gaze, Patty could see them trembling with need.

“hahh… godda sdneeze,” she warned, per their established roommate code of ethics.

“You better cover that nasty mouth of yours.”

“You've…” Holtzmann managed, trying to get the last word in before losing her breath to the oncoming sneezes. “AHHSHheww!" Her toes curled in Patty’s hold, body rising off the couch with the outburst before swelling with a vigorous inhalation. "hahhh!-EISHHH’ew!”

She contained both explosions in the tight grip of her netted fingers, then sighed with audible relief.

“... you've kissed this dasty bouth,” she finished smugly, sounding more stuffed up than before.

“That was a dare!” Patty exclaimed, indignant that Holtzmann would choose to bring up that traumatic memory on today, of all days.

(Although, if she was being honest with herself, it wasn't that traumatic…)

'-'-'-'-'

First (Night Out)

“When's the last time you got these done?”

“I don't know, three… hehh-four months ago?”

Ruby raised her own eyebrows as she pulled a hair from under one of Ophelia's, triggering what appeared to be a particularly sensitive reflex. It wasn't the first time she sneezed or almost sneezed during their tweezing session. Ruby, a frequent plucker herself, was quite familiar with the sensation; the brutal removal of a hair follicle either triggered an explosive reaction, or an uncomfortable, tickly sensation that soon faded.

But her response wasn't nearly as reliable as this. Every other attempt seemed to set Ophelia off; she sat holding an unfolded tissue (her third), calmly trying to delay the next inevitable explosion. Ruby knew her friend was embarrassed of her frequent and almost unstoppable sneezes.

“If you have to sneeze, just do it.”

“I don't... hhh-ave to…” Ophelia protested, even as her eyes fluttered shut.

“Honey, you know I don't-”

“ehhk-TCHiew!”

“Bless you. I don't give a-”

“ih'KSHhhiew!”

“Bless you!” Ruby laughed, more amused than offended by the double interruption. "I don't give a shit if you sneeze. Just give me a head's up so I don't poke you with the tweezers."

Keeping the tissue stretched over her nose, Ophelia reached for another for additional support. While she blew her nose Ruby pet her head gently, checking out her own make-up in the mirror before finding her friend's weary gaze in the reflection. “Feeling better?”

Ophelia nodded before clearing her thoat and sniffling. "For now."

“If I keep doing this, are you gonna keep doing that?”

Her apologetic wince was enough of an answer.

“Well.” Ruby glanced at her phone. “We've got some time. I'm not letting you go out lookin’ all lopsided.”

Ophelia groaned pitifully as her friend got started on the other eyebrow.

Edited July 18, 2017 by AnonyMouse

[Kaze Wo Hiku]

This is suuucccchhhh a good idea, I nearly did something similar in Oct. Holtzy and damn I adore Ruby and Ophelia. Looking forward to more "firsts".

Edited February 4, 2017 by Kaze wo Hiku

[poiub]

Very nicely written, as ever!

[M214186]

Enjoyed both dribbles.

[Chanel_no5]

Oooh, the idea is just lovely! And both are very well-written, as always!

(can I just say, the second is the reason I've never plucked my eyebrows in my entire life. Luckily, they look alright either way.)

 

[Anonymouse]

Aaakk, thanks everyone! Here, have some Hawkeye - just the one for now.

'-'-'-'-'

First (Real Vacation in Years)

Every now and then, Clint relaxed and had a few drinks. Sometimes a few drinks turned into many drinks. And when he drank a lot, he sneezed a lot. Natasha always found it incredibly entertaining, especially when she was drinking a lot, too.

Clint's nose was as red as the cherry in his fourth drink. The guy liked a good beer, but he wasn't afraid to drink a pina cold in public, either. Natasha, in the lead by one drink, laughed unabashedly as he scrubbed his nose and sniffled in agitation.

“Not… hehh! - fuddy...”

“It's looking pretty funny from over here,” she said, taking a sip and watching him carefully over the rim of her glass.

These moments were rare, the two of them simultaneously shitfaced, but the Avengers were on vacation, and when you vacationed with Stark, you got the top notch security. It was one upside to having the crew hijack what was supposed to have been a romantic getaway. Although with Clint in this state, she wasn't sure how much romance would be happening tonight.

Throwing back her drink, Natasha placed her empty glass on the plastic white table and beckoned the server. “You better catch up, buttercup,” she said, smirking at her partner.

“If I could stohhh… hahh… haa’EHSHHHhhh! AHSHHHhhhehh!--oh, excuse be, sorry,” he managed, even in the midst of another sneeze, as the waiter passed in front of him with Natasha’s next drink. “ahK’TChhhee!”

He caught the silly shout of a sneeze in the crook of his arm, keeping his face nestled there as he breathed slowly and deliberately through his mouth. “Okay,” he said, resurfacing with a stubborn sniffle. “Okay… I'm goo-… d’oh… I’be… AHSHHHH’oo!”

“Number six,” she said, pausing for a sip before clarifying. “Drink six. Sneeze twenty… three? Twenty-four?”

“You're counti’g?”

The waiter was standing by patiently. “And you, sir?”

“Huhhh…” Clint shook his head, grabbing the cocktail napkin from the drink tray and sneezing into it. “hihp’t-CHHh!”

“He'll have another pina colada,” Natasha answered for him. “Oh, and more napkins.”

[Likesn]

A girl sneezing while getting a foot rub from another girl- it's like you can read my mind  Oh, and I love how her voice gets congested when she's about to sneeze. 

[March Hare]

That alcohol one? Oh grar yeah.

I don't know just what's so goddamn hot about drunken sneezing, but argh, it pushes several of my buttons at once. THANK YOU.

[M214186]

Loving all these. Drunk sneezing is delicious.....

[Anonymouse]

omg people are actually reading these! Thank you!  

@Likesn, feet on their own aren't my thing, buuut just about any kink can be sexy to me in the context of this fetish. If that makes sense. I'm glad you enjoyed it! Pre-sneeze stuffiness is good stuff, too. 

@March Hare maybe it's the additional lack of control? Drunk people are less inhibited which is usually great when combined with sneezing.

@M214186 Agreed - see above! I'm glad you like them and thanks for commenting.

Two female drabbles, OC, cold, somewhat light on the sneezing description. I spent a lot of time trying to learn more about the snowstorms that happened in the areas where Ophelia lived at certain points in time. Then I decided fuck it, there's a winter storm advisory for Dutchess County, NY, right now, so I'll write about a future (potential) storm. Can you tell I'm excited for snow tomorrow (today)? Although it's nearly 3 AM and I haven't seen a single snowflake. D:

‘-’-’-’-’

First (Delusion of 2017)

Ophelia didn't believe them when they told her what was coming. How could she? The weather was too pleasant for snow, let alone a blizzard; she wore a short-sleeved dress today, no leggings, and sandals instead of boots. The sun warmed her all the way through and the grass was green, not yellow and dead. She began doubting that it was even January. Sure, she had a cold, her second one since November; it was the same pattern her body followed year after year like a blueprint. If she held to the schedule she would be sick again at the end of February or early March, finishing off her extended cold season with more misery in April, compounded, of couse, by allergies.

That spring cold was now, she was convinced. Somehow she had skipped ahead in time, individually or in a collective time warp with the rest of humanity. If it was everyone, the others were either unaware of it or deliberately trying to deceive her. The trees were blossoming, but everyone else denied it. How could she be imagining how itchy they were making her eyes? A cold alone would not do that. The more they insisted otherwise, the more upset she got, until she retreated indoors for some privacy.

Only when they threatened to call her brother did she relent and apologize for her behavior. The last thing she wanted was him driving up here in a blizzard and getting hurt because of her. She claimed she was fine, she had snapped out of it, and for a while she thought they believed it.

So when she heard a car creeping over the gravel outside the house her chest filled with a burning sense of betrayal and anger. These were not feelings she often experienced, which made them even more difficult to tolerate. She heard the door open and close, followed by the bleep bleep of a car locking. Not her brother's car. Her girlfriend’s car.

Pushing the calendar off her lap, Ophelia leapt to her feet and sprinted towards the door. She found Carly standing at the bottom of the porch steps, waiting for her. Her anger dissipated, but not completely, mingling as an equal among her other blunted emotions.

“I got concerned,” she said, holding up her phone. “You weren't answering. Cath and Jack said you were okay, but maybe not completely…”

Ophelia slumped against the doorframe, the last of her energy fading. She could feel her immune system losing the battle as the infection created more viral troops to flood her bloodstream. All the while her brain kept insisting it was springtime despite solid evidence to the contrary.

“I'm not doing so hot,” she admitted.

Carly gave her a gentle smile. “Do you want me to come in?”

“That would be great.”

‘-’-’-’-’

First (Blizzard at the Farm)

They established that she was not actively planning to hurt herself or anyone else. Ophelia was able to articulate that her previous beliefs were not aligned with reality, which was somewhat reassuring to Carly. Some of the employees remained concerned, but Ophelia didn't want to go to the hospital. Carly, wanting to respect her wishes as an adult woman, supported that.

She also knew her girlfriend sometimes told her what she wanted to hear. Carly would stay with her and intervene if the situation escalated. She knew there was a winter advisory for the area, but her Chevy Tahoe and cautious driving habits would get them to the nearest hospital in poor weather if they really needed to go.

They spent the night talking, Carly privately assessing their conversation for any red flags. After ten minutes she was more concerned about her physical health than her mental health. Ophelia had to turn away just about every two or three minute to sneeze, her entire body involved in the process to some degree. It looked exhausting, but she and Carly stayed up well past midnight talking about anything and everything under the sun. Every time Carly suggested Ophelia go to bed, she insisted she wasn't tired. When it started getting close to 2 AM, they both agreed to relocate to the bedroom.

At some point Leo joined them; Ophelia began petting him automatically as they lay together in silence. The cat was a calming, grounding presence, but it was a struggle getting him to stay put when her sneezing kept shaking the crowded double bed.

“You put on a big production for such a tiny thing,” Carly teased.

Ophelia rolled her eyes and clamped the pillow around her face to muffle another violent sneeze. She gave up on propriety and decorum sometime after her second box of tissues.

Carly rubbed her back gently, her skin warm through her shirt, and offered a “Salud.”

As if to say this last offense went a step too far, Leo leapt off the bed and onto the side table, knocking pill bottles and a pile of books onto the floor. Both women sat up and watched as he darted across the room, climbed up the dresser and settled against the window to lick himself. They looked at each other and immediately started laughing, which for Ophelia led to coughing. Carly rubbed her back again until she stopped, then got out of bed to get the cat off the dresser. She could hear Ophelia cleaning the mess he left behind her.

As she got closer to the window she realized there were flurries swirling in the air on the other side of the glass. “It's starting,” she said, glancing back at Ophelia with a big smile.

Ophelia smiled back at her, almost looking relieved. “They were right.”

“They were right.”

Edited February 25, 2017 by AnonyMouse

[M214186]

wonderful stories

[Chanel_no5]

Sooo... did you get that scheduled snowstorm then?  

On ‎2017‎-‎02‎-‎09 at 9:06 AM, AnonyMouse said:

The trees were blossoming, but everyone else denied it. How could she be imagining how itchy they were making her eyes?

But trees are sneaky that way. They can blossom during a snowstorm... or so I've been told by people affected.  

 

On ‎2017‎-‎02‎-‎09 at 9:06 AM, AnonyMouse said:

Ophelia had to turn away just about every two or three minute to sneeze, her entire body involved in the process to some degree. It looked exhausting,

Oh man, I love it when someone is physically overpowered by a sneeze like that. Especially when it's not just one sneeze...  

 

On ‎2017‎-‎02‎-‎09 at 9:06 AM, AnonyMouse said:

Leo leapt off the bed and onto the side table, knocking pill bottles and a pile of books onto the floor. Both women sat up and watched as he darted across the room, climbed up the dresser and settled against the window to lick himself.

Hahaha, cats! That tendency to go from chaotic to complete serenity, like "who, me? I've been sitting here grooming myself all along. Peasant."  

 

[Anonymouse]

Thank you, friends.  And @Chanel_no5, I know what you mean. Mine does that when she does something embarrassing. Falls off the couch, immediately runs to a corner to start grooming herself, as if to say "You didn't see SHIT, I was over here the whole time and those are the facts." And yes, we had a huge snow storm!

One drabble for now. Natasha from The Avengers, most likely from a cold.

'-'-'-'-'-'

First (Ride on a SHIELD Jet)

Nobody spoke for that first half hour.

Clint Barton sat quietly, watching his guest and occasionally getting up to check the coordinates or refill his coffee. The plane was on autopilot, which allowed him to remain alert in case Miss Romanova tried anything funny. She was cuffed for such purposes, but Clint had seen less skilled adversaries escape the shackles before. Sparing her life didn't mean he trusted her. In fact, he was starting to question his decision more and more as they got closer to the base.

“Ever been on a plane like this before?” he said at last, beginning to chip away at the thickest wall of ice he ever felt between himself and another person.

She shook her head, almost automatically, and then seemed annoyed at herself for responding. Clint didn't focus too much on her reply, instead looking down at the mug of coffee between his hands. He wondered if there were any miniature powdered donuts left in the pantry.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, already up and halfway to the small kitchen area towards the back of the cabin.

She shook her head again, but he nearly missed it. “I know you can talk,” he said. "Your file says you speak over a dozen languages. You had no problem cursing me out in several of them before. Why the silence now?”

Natasha only stared at him, though a subtle force tugged at her lips. It almost looked like she was about to smile. Frustrated with the games and with himself for falling for them, he turned and strode towards the coffee machine for another refill.

“Tea,” she said.

He looked back to find her gazing at him intently. “Tea?”

She nodded.

“Sure.” He would have to go digging, but he was sure he had some stashed away. “Black okay?”

She nodded again. He turned away but then stopped to glance back at her again, about to ask whether or not she wanted anything extra. Instead he caught her in the midst of a stifled sneezing fit. After a quick scrunching of her expression and three or four barely noticeable head bobs, Natasha opened her eyes just long enough to realize she had an audience. Another sneeze escaped like an inmate left behind in a jailbreak, this time with greater force than its predecessors. Her body jerked forward so violently that Clint could hear the chains straining.

“h’AH-CHHHhh!”

Natasha brought up her hands up to rub at her nose, forgetting for a moment that she was still bound. The tips of her fingers brushed the end of her nose, irritatingly close but unable to provide the pressure she needed to subdue the itch within. She leaned into her fingers, her whole body scrunching up as it succumbed to another sudden sneeze.

“eh’TCHSHHh!”

She sniffled once, but it was enough for Clint to hear the substantial level of congestion in her airways. Now he understood why she was being so quiet today.

“Gesundheit,” he offered politely, trying not to smirk as she bristled with annoyance. “You should have told me you were feeling sick.”

“I’mb ndot,” she spat, revealing the blunted consonants she’d tried to hide with her silence. “It's the recycled air on this plane khuyoviy.”

Natasha Romanova just insulted his plane, but all Clint could think about was if and how he could trick her into letting him take her temperature. It would be unfortunate if she was feeling unwell; she had a long week ahead of her once they landed.

They both did, Clint realized grimly. There would be a lot of questions for him, too. It was possible that his position in the agency was in jeopardy. And yet, looking at Natasha, he knew that he’d made the right call.

Edited February 25, 2017 by AnonyMouse

[M214186]

Loved this latest story. 

[Anonymouse]

Thank you, M!

Two OCs up next, F and M. Ophelia and Thomas are siblings, if you weren't aware, both with very different lives.

'-'-'-'-'-'

First (Stay in the Adult Unit)

The adolescent unit was a zoo, but it was a jungle here with the adults. Barely twelve hours into her admission and two staff had to restrain another patient from physically assaulting her. Ophelia had barely looked at him as she passed him in the hallway and he snapped, pouncing like a wounded and desperate predator. The woman who shared her room was only a few years older, but looked nearly fifty. There was talk that she had induced her own psychosis by using methamphetamines, which apparently made her less deserving of sympathy, at least by some of the clinicians' standards. Tammy sat in her bed all day, catatonic, growing moss, clinging onto an invisible branch for dear life. Workers marched in and it out of the rooms like ants, a rotating door of faces and voices poking around and asking questions, some potentially venomous. Delilah was a saint compared to some of these sociopaths.

There were so many people crowding her life and her head right now that she couldn't think or even function on a basic level. The clinicians thought she was being defiant by refusing to attend group, but the truth was Ophelia could not handle a room full of real people in addition to the hundreds of fake ones populating her mind. She was unable to effectively convey the issue; her words kept getting mixed up, so she continued to suffer in silence while the rest of the world screamed around her. They gave her a sitter who sat and zoned out watching her blankly like she was the most boring reality show in the world.

“Can I get you anything?” asked the sitter, after some indeterminate amount of time.

She sounded surprisingly genuine. Ophelia rolled over. Her nametag read “Melissa.” She looked at Melissa, who smiled slightly in response.

“They took the shirt,” she said, timidly.

“What shirt?”

Ophelia closed her eyes, reaching into the part of her brain responsible for language and finding it still in disarray. “The shirt. I brought it…”

“From home?”

She nodded. “They took it. I don't know where. I'd like to... I'd like to have it.”

Glancing at her patient every few seconds, Melissa tapped out a quick text message on her clunky phone and then waited. Some time passed before one of the therapists appeared at the door. Melissa got up to speak with her, keeping Ophelia in her periphery. The therapist left and returned with an article of clothing, which Melissa took and presented to Ophelia.

You found it. Thank you, she wanted to say it, but the words wouldn't come. Instead she curled up on the bed, her back to Melissa again, and bunched the shirt to her chin. Every shallow breath carried her brother's scent into her lungs. She buried her nose deeper in the folds, inhaling traces of the only home she had. It was almost cloying in its contrast to the sterility of the rooms and hallways of the hospital.

She found herself tensing up, her body preparing for the convulsions before the itch even registered in her sinuses. When it came, it came quickly, and she turned her face to muffle two loud sneezes into the pillow, keeping the shirt a respectable distance away from the fallout. "iHFFSHheheh'IHFshhh!!"

“Bless you,” said Melissa, her tone one of surprise.

“I'mb so sorry,” Ophelia said, sniffling and keeping her face hidden in the pillow.

“It's okay, sweetheart.” The response was incredibly gentle. “It was only a sneeze.”

She hated being spoken to like that by the people who worked here, but she didn't mind it from Melissa.

“Thank you. For finding it,” she said, feeling the knots around her brain loosening, allowing the gratitude to spill out. “The shirt. It really helps.”

She could hear Melissa smile. “You're welcome.”

 

'-'-'-'-'-'

First (Night Home with the Twins)

For once it wasn't the girls crying that woke her, but her husband sneezing. The bed shook, went still, and then bounced slightly as he stood up, presumably to take his sneezing elsewhere, but it was too late; Sara was awake.

“What is happening?” she asked, unable to mask her exasperation on only three collective hours of sleep in the past forty-eight.

“Nothing,” Thomas insisted, after muffling another sneeze in his hands. “I've got it.”

“Got what?”

“Ehh’v… heh… hehptCHH!”

She sat up, her whole body aching from its recent trauma, and squinted at her spouse.

“You better not be getting-”

He shook his head, turning away from the bed to sneeze violently. His arm formed a shield against the spray, but she could still hear it.

She felt herself tensing with annoyance, but she already knew the truth; it wasn't his fault. Her body was a mess, and so was her mind, but it would get better. He was probably getting sick, or already sick, and he would get better, too. They just needed to see their way through the storm, all they'd both been doing all their lives.

“Bless you,” she said, in lieu of biting his head off.

“‘mmb sorry, Sar,” he said, genuinely apologetic for allowing a virus to infiltrate his system. “But I feel like shit. Feels like some kind of bug.”

She knew it was ridiculous to be mad at him for that, and she hated that he felt like he had to apologize. She wanted to get up and hug him, but the last thing she needed was to be getting sick and passing something on to their daughters.

“I'll sleep in the chair,” she said. “In the nursery. Then I won't have to keep walking up and down the hallway.”

“Sara…”

“It's fine, Tommy,” she said, giving him that smile that she knew for a fact melted him every time, even now, after a decade together and two newborns on the verge of wailing for food the next room over. “Really.”

“I love you,” he said wistfully.

“I love you too,” she said, grabbing her pillow before dropping immediately back onto the bed. “Nope, probably contaminated. Keep it. I’ll grab a fresh set after I shower. Get me if they start screaming, but don't breathe on me, or them.” She threw him one last smile on her way out the door. “I really do love you. Feel better soon, like real soon, okay?”

He gave her a sad little wave, holding back another sneeze until she closed the door.

Edited February 18, 2017 by AnonyMouse

[Chanel_no5]

So well-written, both of them. The first one, or rather it's setting, almost hits a bit too close to home for me, which, seriously, only proves just how well-written it is. Raw and realistic. I'm glad she had Melissa there to offer at least some comfort.

The second felt very genuine and somewhat bittersweet.

7 hours ago, AnonyMouse said:

genuinely apologetic for allowing a virus to infiltrate his system.

For some reason I found this line very, very hot... which, given my preferences, kind of surprised me.  

 

[Anonymouse]

I am thrilled to have written something male that piqued your interest, however briefly, @Chanel_no5! As always, thank you for taking the time to comment. <3 If you enjoy angst you should like this next one. For context, Carly and Ophelia have been dating for a few months. Carly lives in the city and runs a mobile cafe/coffee truck, and Ophelia lIves on a fruit and honey farm in Dutchess County, NY. Carly commutes up every weekend to spend time with her and Ophelia spends a few days at at time in the city with Carly, usually when she's already there for appointments and such. At this point they're both thirty. Sneezes are from Ophelia and her seemingly ever present allergies.

---

First (Fight)

 

We sink into separate pieces of furniture following the meltdown, a void growing between us. There is a disconnect that is rarely present in her queen size bed, or my rickety twin. In those shared spaces we melt together, not apart, two souls and minds merging like two streams into a stronger river. Now, I feel adrift on the waves, watching her float away in stony silence on a door that I know has room for the both of us.

 

I don't blame her; I've been there before. I get it, in my own way. It's the mood, not Ophelia, and I will try not take it personally. Although I am confident that things will be better in a few days, it doesn't make the present moment any less traumatic. I fidget with my phone, turning it over in my hands and focusing on the scratches across the screen. It buzzes with a notification, startling us both out of our collective silence. We look at each other for a moment, before I clear my throat.

 

“Should I just go?”

 

I don't know what to do and I hate having to ask her. Normally I can just tell, but there is a wall around her mind that my senses cannot penetrate.

 

“Sure, fucking go.” The tension releases at once like a snapping rubber band, and Ophelia sighs heavily. I can see her doing that thing she does when she's about to cry but trying not to, tilting her head back slightly and tightening her jaw. “No. I'm sorry. That was rude.”

 

“No, it's okay.” I manage a smile, though it still stings. “I want you to tell me how you feel.”

 

“But that’s not how I feel,” she said. “I want you to be here, I just want you to be here.”

 

Her gaze flickers across the phone in my lap and suddenly I feel ashamed. I had to miss our last weekend because of a series of unfortunate situations with the truck, and I spent most of our time together this weekend compulsively checking texts and emails and taking frantic calls from the new weekend coverage. How hadn't I noticed the effect this was having on her, on us, these last couple weeks? She had so many things she wanted to do this weekend and with the Sunday evening drive back to the city swiftly approaching, I realize with a sinking feeling that we hadn't done any of them. Because of me. Because of work.

 

“Just one last call and I'm done,” I promise, and I swear she rolls her eyes before she stands up to walk away.

 

I settle for a text message, hoping to get my instructions through before Ophelia disappears into the wilderness somewhere. “D - I'm taking an extra day. Close up tonight and leave the key in my PO. Do not call or text me for any reason. If it's an emergency - call 911. If not - figure it out or leave it til I get back. Give the customers my regards and apologies.”

 

My fingers fly across the screen at lightening speed. I hit send as I'm standing up and darting down the hallway after my girlfriend, who has already made it onto the porch and is slumped against the pillar. Her hand shakes slightly mid-air, rousing my concern, until I hear the slight catch in her breath that usually precedes a sneeze.

 

Folding my arms, I stand back and wait as she hitches her way towards what sounds like a satisfying conclusion. Even so she sneezes once more, as she tends to do, still fanning her hand slightly as yet another sneeze builds.

 

For once I withhold my blessing until I know for sure she is finished. The situation is delicate, and one wrong move could shatter the whole thing.

 

“Tihh… tissue,” she gasps, and I'm on it, retreating into the house to find the nearest box.

 

I hear her sneeze twice more before I return. With one hand covering the lower half of her face, she grabs three tissues with the other hand. I avert my eyes as she blows her nose, only glancing over again when she surprises me with another sneeze mid-blow. Finishing, she takes another tissue to wipe off her palms and fingers.

 

I offer a polite “Bless you” in lieu of my usual playful “Salud.” She smiles weakly, muttering something about being disgusting and trying to hurry past me. I stand on the porch, hesitant to follow her back inside, until she turns around in the doorway to look at me with an air of expectation. In that moment I know the honest truth; she doesn't want me to go.

 

I go to her, taking her in my arms and anticipating at least some resistance. I feel guilty for acting on this impulse to console her but she soon melts into my embrace, her body trembling.

 

“Come back inside with me,” she requests softly. “It's too much out here.”

 

I agree, feeling her walls giving way.

[Winged]

I didn't realize how behind I was on this thread, but I just read like five gorgeous drabbles and now I'm Feeling Things. 

1. Love Ophelia, love getting to finally see Carly! That last drabble from C's pov was beautifully written, great imagery. 

2. The Natasha one  I've never seen you write that far back in their timeline! It's fun to play around with things at the beginning and see how they change. 

3. Agreed with Chanel, the hospital one hit really close to home (though my unit wasn't that chaotic), which shows how well you captured the atmosphere and such. 

4. A wild Thomas appears! I love how you inserted yourself into the mind of Sara - the physical and emotional exhaustion of having new babies but still caring for her husband.

I'm sure I had more comments but I've forgotten them, lol. You're such a fantastic writer and i love all of these so much. 

[Chanel_no5]

6 hours ago, AnonyMouse said:

Her hand shakes slightly mid-air, rousing my concern, until I hear the slight catch in her breath that usually precedes a sneeze.

 

Folding my arms, I stand back and wait as she hitches her way towards what sounds like a satisfying conclusion. Even so she sneezes once more, as she tends to do, still fanning her hand slightly as yet another sneeze builds.

Oh that is hot...  Also, sneezing mid-blow is the best kind of nose-blowing ever. ^^

Seriously, you write so well, the descriptions are very vivid and the feelings just jump out of the text. That is one bittersweet relationship, or rather a bittersweet moment in the relationship anyway, right there. Very powerful, I love it.  

 

 

[NoV]

On 2/25/2017 at 1:11 PM, AnonyMouse said:

only glancing over again when she surprises me with another sneeze mid-blow.

As Chanel points out above, sneezes mid-blow are great. Something about the confusion involved in the process  

[Joona]

These have all been phenomenal so far! I really enjoyed reading through these. 

[Anonymouse]

Winged - Thank you! I always wanted to do something with early Clintasha, just wasn't sure what until now. Still plenty to play around with there, I suppose.  I wasn't trying to make the unit come off as too extreme, but I really wanted to put her in an environment that rattled her.

Chanel - I'd say a bittersweet moment in an otherwise decently solid relationship at that point. And isn't mid-blow sneezing awesome?? It's like the nose going "No no no, you're going about it all wrong, let me do it!"  Thank you for commenting. <3

Nov - Thanks, and I agree! See above! I like how you put it though, too, very cute. 

achoo - Phenomenal?  Thank you so much!

SPOILER ALERT! The second drabble contains significant spoilers for season 3 of Agents of SHEILD, so read at your own risk. It also contains a lot of Bobbi Morse sneezing, which is always a good time. First drabble is my OC Carly sneezing for once. I had a totally different idea of how she might sneeze by she said NOPE and did this instead.

By the way, the new theme for March is Moods and Melodies! And the DJ is taking song requests.

'-'-'-'-'-'

Melody: “Fire Escape” by Andrew McMahon and the Wilderness

Mood: Loved

Those five minutes of silence and darkness were unbearable. Ophelia imagined a million deaths for Carlina until she reappeared on the screen, alive and well, eliciting a sigh of relief from her girlfriend.

“What happened?” she asked, and then, noticing the brick wall behind her, “Where are you?”

“My neighbor’s WiFi cut out, so I had to sneak out here,” she said, turning the laptop to show Ophelia the fire escape where she was sitting.

“Please be careful.”

“You're always such a worry…” Carly paused, focusing on something in the distance. “... war…. heh - ASHHHH’eh!”

The image shook violently, making Ophelia feel disoriented. She managed to catch a brief glimpse of her girlfriend’s contorting face in the upper corner of the screen.

“Bless you.”

“Sund's coming up,” she said with a harsh sniffle. “We've been talking all night.”

She turned the laptop again, framing the gorgeous sunrise with her photographer’s eye. Ophelia realized she had an ulterior motive when she heard a gasp and another rough “EHSHHh’ahh!” that once again shook the screen.

“Hold still, I want to take a screencap.”

Sniffling definitively, Carly complied. Ophelia captured the image and sent the file to her via Skype.

“Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” she asked.

“I can think of a few things…” Carly said, biting her lip and smiling at Ophelia.

It was corny, but it gave her butterflies all the same.

'-'-'-'-'-'

 

Melody: “One Week” by Barenaked Ladies

Mood: Annoyed / Amused

 

One week. It felt like a lifetime ago since they left S.H.I.E.L.D., but in reality it had only been one week.

 

One week, apparently, was all Bobbi could tolerate of Hunter. He could sense it in her voice, the looks she gave him when she thought he wasn't looking, and the way she called him “Hun” when she asked him to fetch a carton of orange juice. The honeymoon period was wearing off. He was no longer the man she was so relieved to see alive in that interrogation room, but the pain in the ass who opened the new milk before finishing the old one and kept her up all night with his snoring.

 

“Can you grab the laundry detergent?” she asked. “I want to check out that sale in the seafood section.”

“Come on, Bob, we're not in any rush,” he said. “The fish will still be on sale when we get there.”

Her lips were drawn in a tight line, but he took the end of the cart and gave a few playful tugs until she complied. Begrudgingly she followed him down the next aisle, resting her finger under her nose as she leaned into the cart. Hunter gave her a funny look, but didn't comment. Scanning the shelves for the cheapest brand, he missed her stifle two sneezes into complete silence, her right foot kicking back slightly with each denied release.

When he glanced back at her she hid her recovery behind a fake yawn. “I forgot how boring this is,” she declared, fighting to keep her voice steady as the detergents and cleaners threatened to overtake her. “I hate shopping.”

“So we don't have guns, and there isn't any imminent danger,” he said, “but this can still be an adventure.”

He spotted a cheaper bottle and moved to grab it, allowing Bobbi the opportunity to stifle another pair of sneezes. This time a small “Bless you!” startled her out of a third, causing both her and Hunter to whip their attention to the spectators behind them.

The child and his mother looked equally startled by their reactions. They grabbed what they needed and hurried on their way, leaving Bobbi exposed and alone with Hunter once more. The latter quirked his eyebrows and gave a smirk. It was clear, from her pink nose and hazy expression, that she had sneezed more than a couple times.

“Why didn't you just tell me-”

He had respect enough to pause when Bobbi held up her finger, clearly on the verge of another sneeze. This one took more coaxing, and knowing Hunter was standing there gawking at her didn't help much. She turned and took a few steps away from him, breath hitching endlessly. Finding the aisle ahead of her empty, she relaxed and let loose with a vigorous trinity of sneezes, each muffled responsibly into the crook of her arm.

“Bless you,” he offered, but she only waved her hand at him impatiently, the other hovering near her face.

“I... hehhhyishhew! I’ll… seeeyIHshhu! see you in seafood,” she managed as she away, stopping every few steps to sneeze some more while Hunter tried his best not to laugh.

Edited March 3, 2017 by AnonyMouse

[Chanel_no5]

7 hours ago, AnonyMouse said:

She turned the laptop again, framing the gorgeous sunrise with her photographer’s eye. Ophelia realized she had an ulterior motive when she heard a gasp and another rough “EHSHHh’ahh!” that once again shook the screen.

That is the kind of ulterior motive I so approve of. ^^

Very sweet scene. I'm a sucker for the "up all night talking"-thing and corny romantic comments, regardless of how hard I try to pretend I'm not.  

 

Not familiar with the fandom of the second, but the scene was well-told, very vivid and detailed.

7 hours ago, AnonyMouse said:

He had respect enough to pause when Bobbi held up her finger, clearly on the verge of another sneeze. This one took more coaxing, and knowing Hunter was standing there gawking at her didn't help much. She turned and took a few steps away from him, breath hitching endlessly. Finding the aisle ahead of her empty, she relaxed and let loose with a vigorous trinity of sneezes, each muffled responsibly into the crook of her arm.

Mwehehehe, I love it when people can't sneeze when they're being watched.  

7 hours ago, AnonyMouse said:

stopping every few steps to sneeze some more

Also, this. By all means, don't stop.  

Song requests, huh? I'll throw out a couple of suggestions, but don't feel forced to do any of them.

Dolly Parton - Working Girl
Alice Cooper - Poison
Bette Midler - To Deserve You
Leslie Gore - You Don't Own Me
Jennifer Rush - I Come Undone


 

 

[March Hare]

On 2-3-2017 at 10:57 AM, Chanel_no5 said:

Song requests, huh? I'll throw out a couple of suggestions, but don't feel forced to do any of them.

Alice Cooper - Poison
 

I second this.

[Anonymouse]

Excellent recs, you two! I did one for “Poison” and have another in the works for “You Don't Own Me.” I wrote four this time around: Delilah (allergic reaction), Ophelia (allergic reaction), Hunter from AoS (animal allergy), and Bobbi AoS (reeeally bad cold, sort of a prequel to a quarantine drabble I wrote).

 

‘-’-’-’-’-’

Song: “Criminals” by MS MR | Mood: Manic

They spent the better part of an hour wandering around the department store, shuffling through the discount racks and commenting on their fellow patrons. The jokes started out fairly benign, but as always, Delilah took it too far. “Do you think she knows her husband is gay?” she asked, making no effort to keep her voice down.

Ophelia felt herself wilt under the glares of the offended couple, but wasn't brave enough to challenge the observation. Instead she shrugged, remaining silent. She felt a rush of electricity when Delilah grabbed her hand and began pulling her away from the uncomfortable situation. “I just thought of something,” she said.

She wanted some perfume, but she didn't have enough money to buy anything high-end. Ophelia would create a diversion while Delilah slipped the box into her purse. Although she would be complicit in the act, Ophelia reasoned that she wasn't doing anything wrong. Delilah was the one who would be doing the stealing. So she agreed, knowing she didn't have much of a choice. Denying Delilah always came with its consequences.

Like many of their plans, this one went awry. The perfume department proved too overwhelming for the thief-to-be; she succumbed to a sneezing fit almost instantly, unwittingly creating a diversion all on her own. The clerk behind the counter grew concerned after the fifth or sixth desperate sneeze and decided to check on her potential customer, leaving Ophelia in a position to make a major decision. Barely taking any time to think it over, she grabbed one of the small bottles closest to her and stuffed it in her jacket pocket. Calmly she floated over to Delilah, who was clearly embarrassed by her unmanageable reaction.

“Get me out of here,” she demanded. “Something’s reeal… really settihh…”

Ophelia didn’t wait for her to finish. Every second she remained here she felt more and more anxious. If someone else didn’t bust her before they left, it was highly probable that she would expose herself. She grabbed Delilah by her free hand and pulled her gently away from the fussing salesperson, throwing a surprisingly confident “I’ve got her, thank you,” over her shoulder. Delilah sneezed about four times more, stumbling after Ophelia. As they got further away from the perfumes she began to recover.

“It worked,” Ophelia said in a hushed voice, after they cleared the scanners at the exit.

Her anxiety had morphed into something a bit more enjoyable. Standing on the busy sidewalk in the chilly air, she felt like she could do anything.

Delilah was feeling the same way, apparently. “Let’s go back in and see what else we can get,” she suggested. “Clothes, or something… no perfume.”

That they had made it out unscathed wasn’t good enough for either of them. All that mattered was chasing the thrill of a new challenge.

‘-’-’-’-’-’

Melody: “Poison” by Alice Cooper | Mood: Angry

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Ophelia felt like a dog caught with an overturned trashcan. She was frozen above a cluster of shattered glass and a pale purple liquid, staunchly avoiding eye contact with her girlfriend. The air, thick with her shame and the scent of lilacs, was making her feel woozy.

“It was an accident,” was all she could manage.

Delilah scowled at the mess on the floor, then looked up at her. “You owe me a new one.”

“Fine.”

Another moment of silence passed. “Well, don't just stand there, clean it up!”

Ophelia indignantly reached for the paper towels, biting back the urge to tell Delilah she was just about to start cleaning before she interrupted. She tossed a few squares down over the mess before glancing around for the broom.

Delilah found it before she did. She forced the handle into her arms before stalking out of the room, leaving Ophelia shivering in the wake of her silent rage. It was so much worse than getting yelled at, somehow. She nudged the saturated towels aside with her foot and started sweeping up the glass, pausing when her nose was suddenly filled with an unbearable sensation. The sneeze developed quickly, bursting from her lips before she could process what was happening to her. She had just enough warning to prepare for the second one, which she managed to stifle in the tight grip of her thumb and forefinger. She exhaled heavily in the aftermath, feeling her breath sweep back into her lungs for a third; it was then Delilah chose to interrupt her, knocking the sneeze off course.

“Christ, can you ever do anything quietly?” came her voice from the next room.

Ophelia felt her grip tighten on the broom handle. The comment triggered something deep in her subconscious, the voices surfacing to fan the flames of her outrage.

Why do you let her talk to you like that? they jeered. She’s poison. She’s no good for you. This... thing will kill you.

It will kill you.

Ophelia threw the broom down. “I don’t know what your fucking problem is, Delilah, but you need to stop making it mine.”

Her statement might have carried more weight had she not punctuated it with another explosive sneeze. Claiming the paper towels for herself, she grabbed her stuff and hurried out of the apartment before Delilah could react. Having the final say for once gave her the same thrill as stealing, but she knew that sadness would inevitably follow.

‘-’-’-’-’-’

Melody: “It Will Come Back” by Hozier | Mood: Annoyed

“No, no, no, what is this? Why is he inside now?”

Bobbi looked up from spooning some tuna onto a plate for their guest. “He was hungry,” she said with a shrug.

“Then he can go kill a rat or something!” Hunter exclaimed. “But don’t feed him. He will come back, repeatedly, looking for food, getting soft, losing his skills…”

“Sort of like you, huh?”

Hunter rolled his eyes, unable to fight off the urge to sniffle. “Nothing like me,” he said. “Look, Bob, he’s got to stay sharp, because there is no way in hell he's staying here.”

“And why is that?” she said, standing up to hold her full height over her husband. “Because you’re the man, and you say so?”

“No, because I…” He trailed off, his voice trembling. “Oh, here we go…”

Bobbi shifted from smug to genuinely concerned as her husband brought both hands up to his face and tensed abruptly.

“EHSHhue!!”

The sound, and the way it made the cat bolt out the door, nearly startled Bobbi out of her skin.

“Oh!”

“ESHHu! heh’ESCHHhhu!”

“Okay, wow. I didn't realize-”

When he sneezed yet again her tone shifted from apologetic to annoyed. “Jesus, Hunter!” Cat forgotten, she found a box of tissues and tossed it at him. “All this time together and you never told me you’re allergic to cats?”

Even in his rapidly declining state he managed to catch the box, pulling a few tissues out and using them to aggressively blowing his nose. “It ndever cambde up,” he said, taking a break to catch his breath before the next blow.

“I'll get you a Benadryl,” she sighed, deciding in that moment that she couldn't handle a pet right now, not when she felt so responsible for this mess of a human being.

‘-’-’-’-’-’

Song: “Breezeblocks” by Alt-J

Mood: Concerned

“Love, you're burning up.”

Bobbi looked up at him from her nest of blankets and tissues. Despite staring at him since he walked in, she only now seemed to really see him.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

"I'm just getting back from the job,” he said dismissively, more concerned about her temperature. “You didn't answer my messages... are you feeling alright?”

She closed her eyes as Hunter brushed his fingers across her forehead, so still and quiet that for a moment he thought she dozed off again. Then she took his hand and gently moved it away from her face, turning and taking a long breath as she did so. “hehhISHhhuhh!”

He winced in sympathy when Bobbi whimpered and coughed roughly. “When did this start?”

“F-few… yiIHShhhew! hours ago…” She grabbed a cluster of tissues and brought it to her nose to soak up the loosened congestion, beyond the point of caring which tissues were clean or dirty. “Lance, I feel awful. I've barely gotten any sleep.”

For her to admit illness at all was enough to worry Hunter. Bobbi rarely got sick, and when she did it was never severe. On top of it all, sbe was due to leave early tomorrow morning for another mission.

“Will I be able to take your temperature without losing my fingers?” he asked.

 

“No guarantees,” she croaked, turning away with a series of hitching breath. “hih… hih… hehh-hiih… hihh’YISHHhhew! IHSHHhew!"

 

He stroked the back of his knuckles across her sticky cheek. Warmth radiated from her skin like heat rising from blacktop. “All this sneezing must be driving you mad.”

 

Bobbi sniffled miserably in lieu of a witty retort, looking so weak and helpless that he almost felt guilty for leaving her to look for a thermometer. She managed to avoid sneezing or coughing while it registered her temperature. It read “103.5”; Hunter was never very good with converting from Fahrenheit to Celsius, but he was pretty sure that was high enough to be concerning. He checked again to be sure it wasn't just an error, but this time it read “103.6.”

 

“Bobbi, love, can you sit up for me?”

 

She obeyed, struggling into an upright position with his assistance. He could feel the sweat and feverish heat of her body seeping through her t-shirt, Bobbi trembling as the cool air hit her damp clothing. The wheezing edge to her breathing amplified her husband's concern. He patted his pocket to ensure he had his phone, in case he needed to call an ambulance, and tried to gauge the exact distance between her bed and his rental car.

 

“Come on, let's go for a ride.”

 

Her unquestioning complacency was concerning, but it made the process of getting her to the car a lot easier. She held onto his arm, shivering and taking slow, unsteady steps, her body less willing than her mind.

 

They only made it to the doorway before a team of agents intercepted them