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When it Rains, it Pours - Part 3/? (New! 08/20)


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Hi everyone! It's been a little bit since I've submitted any written piece (yet again lol) but life gets busy! I've decided to play around with the characters from a previous original fiction I posted here. (There are four main boys in this universe! If I continue this story I may introduce the rest of them.) These dumb boys are near and dear to my heart, and it's always fun to throw your characters into sneezy situations, lol. Bit of back story: but this "fic" is kind of like a very fetish-friendly take on the real canon of their story, if that makes any sense. I was writing this and I just couldn't pass the opportunity to turn the story-line sneezy. Essentially, because it's never really explained/addressed at the beginning in this, Peter had previously asked Geoff if he could move in, to which Geoff had promptly said hell no. And then Peter turned up at his flat a week later, and that's kind of when this story starts. :whistle:

I may continue this if people enjoy it, as I have a few other ideas, but we'll see! I'll drop some quick character descriptions for you guys and then on with the story! 

Peter Patrick Byrnes – Irish. Punk rock. Guitar player. Will mess around with absolutely anyone. Glasses. Plugs. Black hair usually in a fauxhawk.  Small goatee. Tattoos. Piercings. Speaks his mind, is very vulgar. Average/Tall height. (Aprox. 6’1) Smoker. Green eyes. Originally from Northern Dublin.

Geoffrey Benjamin Archer – Casual friends with Peter. Both into music, Geoff more into rock. Really chill guy. Ginged hair, usually in pompadour type style. Plays bass. English. Lives in London. Blue eyes. Average height. (5’10)

Edit: There is a bit of mess descriptions in this chapter! It does not continue as the chapters go on, just want to give everyone a little warning! Thank you ^_^

--

Peter had been living with Geoff for half a year after getting kicked out of his parent’s house. At 25, it was about time he had left anyway, but Peter was a right bugger, Geoff knew from experience, and not many people could put up with his unpleasantness, especially the man’s own parents. Geoff could remember the day Peter had come pounding on his door late in the eve in the pouring rain. The rain had been pelting him unforgivingly and the man was soaked to the bone. Geoff had answered the door, took in the haphazardly packed backpack slung over Peter’s right shoulder and the guitar case clutched desperately in his left hand, both just as drenched as the man carrying them. He had tried to look Peter in the eye, but the dewy raindrops clinging to the man’s glasses made it hard for him to see the expression behind them. Eventually, and almost reluctantly, Geoff reached out, snatching the guitar case from Peter’s trembling hand, “You prick.” He almost snapped, gesturing inside, “Get your stupid ass in here.”

Th-Thang’k-” Peter stuttered through chattering teeth, voice thick and hoarse. Geoff held up his free hand to stop him.

“I don’t want to hear it.” The red head growled, grabbing Peter’s forearm tightly and dragging him inside. Peter tripped into the small flat, teeth clattering loudly as his body wracked with tremors. Geoff nearly slammed the door behind them, the usually calm, collected man near close to a frenzy, “Who the bloody hell do you think you are?” Geoff lashed out, his words quick as a whip, “You turn up at my flat uninvited, unwanted, no warning, with a backpack of clothes and a guitar? What do you think this is? Who do you think I am? You’re bloody lucky it’s storming outside or I’d probably throw your clueless ass back onto the streets, Peter, Jesus Christ.

Peter stood trembling in the doorway as Geoff continued to spew his disapproval and abuse. Peter let it bounce off of him without a single word, his eyes staying glued to his own soaked, worn-out trainers. Geoff, now close to enraged at being ignored, forced a hand under Peter’s chin, jerking his head upright, “Peter, you little shit, for God’s sake, look at me!”

Peter blinked up at Geoff, saying nothing. Water droplets ran freely down his cheeks and nose from the sudden sharp head movement. Geoff took one look at Peter’s face and immediately felt his anger began to subside.

The Irishman’s drenched black hair clung thickly to his forehead, his water-speckled glasses still blocking the view of his bright green eyes. Geoff could make out the dark puffy circles that hung hauntingly underneath of them; combined with his naturally hollow cheeks, it gave his face a near ghastly appearance. The man’s nose was an irritated looking pink colour that contrasted harshly with his fair complexion. Thick lines of mucus dripped freely from the appendage and raced greedily towards his chapped lips. He looked truly horrific, and Geoff nearly had to do a double take to make sure it was really him.

“Peter…” Geoff huffed, voice taking on a new calmer tone, “Mate, what the hell’re you doing?” He asked, placing a hand onto Peter’s soggy shoulder. Peter merely answered with a whistling exhale of breath and the clattering noise of his teeth. Geoff gulped, his stomach doing a flip. Peter was the most loud, vulgar asshole he knew, never missing an opportunity for an ignorant response or a witty comeback. The fact that the man remained totally silent, shivering in his doorway started to scare him. Geoff took a step closer, eyebrows knitting in concern. He moved his hand from Peter’s shoulder to his forehead, pushing the man’s soggy bangs away as he felt for fever. Sure enough, the heat radiating off of Peter was alarming, and Geoff swore under his breath.

“You’re a right idiot, you know that?” He murmured, reaching over to peel Peter’s soaked backpack from his shoulder, “Kick off your shoes, yeah? We’re going to get you dry.” Peter perked up ever so slightly at this, eyes now following Geoff as the red head placed the backpack and guitar case near the doorway.

“I’mb…n’dot…l-leaving’k?” Peter croaked, voice dripping with congestion. Geoff scoffed slightly, trying his best to mask the concern he felt at how horrible the other sounded, “I can barely understand you, you wanker. Just take off your damn shoes and come with me. You’re not going anywhere.” Peter’s eyes widened and his bottom lip quivered slightly before he quickly began kicking off his shoes. Once they were off, Geoff grabbed the man’s arm and began leading him down the tight hallway, a trail of dripping water following in their wake.

At the very end of the hall Geoff pulled Peter into his cramped bathroom and shut the door behind them. He moved quickly, closing the lid of the toilet and instructing Peter to sit, to which he obliged. He turned his attention back towards the bathroom door and pulled the two towels he kept hanging there down from their hooks.

“Here.” Geoff sighed, handing one of the towels to Peter. He was about to throw the other towel onto Peter’s head to dry his hair when the Irishman pitched forward violently and sneezed a messy, “hhHAH-GGgZzCHk!” directly into his towel.

Geoff grimaced at the squelching sound Peter’s nose made as the man began rubbing it aggressively into the cloth, “Jesus Christ…” Geoff breathed, before reaching out and pulling the towel from Peter’s grasp, “Not on my towel, you bloody caveman.”

“S-s-sorry…” Peter stuttered through chattering teeth, “I justd…I—hHAhGgKSHh!” He pitched forward again with another harsh sneeze, steepling his hands over his nose and mouth. The force of the sneeze slipped his glasses down the bridge of his nose, and they teetered dangerously on the very tip, “Gghhn…” 

Geoff grimaced again, taking in the image of the shivering, soaked, snot-covered man sitting in his bathroom and let out an irritated sigh, “Alright.” He said, “Forget the drying. Take off your trousers.”

He waited a moment for Peter to make some kind of shitty joke about what he had said, but instead merely got a groggy, confused glance. Geoff sighed again.

“You heard me, Byrnes. You’re taking a hot shower.” Geoff folded his arms across his chest, “Trousers off.”

Peter snorted at this, picking up the nearby small bathroom garbage can and spitting into it. Geoff rolled his eyes and stepped over Peter’s legs to get to the shower. The bathroom itself truly was built for only one person to be inside, and Geoff found it a little difficult to move around with Peter’s long legs jutting out from behind him.

“Mate,” Geoff began, head behind the shower curtain as he fiddled with the knobs, “Get up, you’re too bloody lanky and you’re in my way.”

Cold water began pouring from the tap, Geoff remained put, hand under the faucet, waiting for the water to warm up. He heard the rustling sound of Peter rising up, a wet cough erupting from his lungs. And then, to Geoff’s surprise, the man spoke.

“…And h-here I t-thoughtd you were j-justd trying to get m’be n’daked.” Peter panted, letting out a breathy laugh as he began to peel off his soggy denim jacket.

Geoff glanced back at Peter as the water began to warm, “I have to say – I can’t believe how relieved I am to hear you say something stupid.” He chuckled slightly and continued, “And trust me – the last thing I want to see is your skinny ass.” He smirked, pulling up the diverter. The old pipes whined in protest for just a moment before hot water jetted out of the rusty shower head in a warm, welcoming stream.

Geoff raised himself up, closing up the shower curtain and turning back towards Peter, who by now was attempting to wiggle out of his drenched ripped jeans. “The hot water should help clear all the bogeys out of your head. Warm yourself up before you catch pneumonia. I’ll try to find you some dry clothes.”

Peter nodded, pulling the last foot out of his jeans that then fell to the floor with a wet slop. Geoff watched the taller man straighten himself up, shivering in only his water-logged boxers as he removed his glasses and placed them on top of the toilet’s tank.

“Well.” Geoff began, looking away and crossing his arms, “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He finished and began to leave, only stopping when Peter suddenly reached out and grabbed his arm. He turned to the trembling, near-naked man, one eyebrow raised, “Is everything alright?”

“Thangks, Geoffrey.” Peter croaked out, green eyes locking with Geoff’s own blues, “I m’bean that. Truly.”

Geoff stood there, mouth slightly agape. He was a little taken back at the man’s sincerity, as he had never known Peter to be more than just an obnoxious twat, “Uh, yeah. Sure, mate.” He nodded slowly, Peter still holding his arm tightly, “It’s really not a -” He stopped, when he noticed the other’s eyes seem to glaze over, “…Peter?”

“h-huhh…” Peter’s eyes fluttered slightly, his head tipping back. Geoff watched in horror as the man’s damp nostrils began to twitch and flare before finally-

“hhHH’ZZZzSHh!” Peter quickly jerked to the side, bringing his free hand up to cup his nose and mouth as he sneezed wetly into it, other hand still grasped tightly around Geoff’s arm. He hesitated there a moment, hand still hovering in front of his face as his eyes began to flutter yet again, “hh—hHaA’GgSHHhUh!”

“Christ, if you had done that on me you would have been out of here faster than your Irish ass could say ‘potato’.” Geoff grumbled, lip curled up in disgust. He shoved Peter’s hand away as the other stood there snivelling and shook his head, “At least the steam is already doing the trick. Now take off your pants and get in the tub, you prick.”

Peter nodded, hand still cupped tightly around his nose and mouth. Geoff cracked a small smile, leaving the other alone to take a much-needed warm shower.

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I remember Peter from the previous story! He seems to be your preferred victim  ^_^:D

It was great that the story had two calmer moments of quiet understanding between the two, mixed into the otherwise raging storm that was Geoff - when Geoff realised that Peter was ill, and then in the bathroom, where Peter (tried) to thank him.

I'd be interested to know how the story continues, should you feel like writing more! :)

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UM I LOVE this. I am really feeling it, please write more!! I love your writing and I love the dynamic with these two. I also just really like both of them. Now I have to go read the other one...💖💖💖💖💖

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There are a lot of things I like about this story. The dynamic between these two characters, how upset and snarky Geoff is; and how that still turns more and more into worry the more he's gettign aware of Peter's bad condition. I like the details - not only concerning Peter's illness. Also the environment is so well described - the tiny bathroom and the rusty shower are some examples.

Spoiler

There's only one thing, that is a bit of a problem for me - the "messy" part. I can't stand sn*t at all; and it was a fight for me to get over these parts. I know, it's not your fault; and I got around these things because your story is really well written. But could you please add a mess tag? I know, there are people who are even more sensitive about mess than I am. So, a little warning would be nice...

 

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  • 3 weeks later...

@Shikee12.haley: I'm so glad you enjoyed!

@Selene Thank you so much for reading this story as well as the first! Peter gets into so much trouble it's hard to not make him the sneezy one :razz: but don't worry! I have plans to make more sneezy scenerios with the other boys, too!

@starpollen So honoured to have you read this! I'm a huge fan of your Hayley/Tommy stories, so it's very cool to have you enjoy one of mine. Thanks for reading!

@CharliesGirl Thank you for the kind words! 

@lilysneeze heehee, thank you! They have a soft spot in my heart, for sure!

@kushamisukii Thank you SO much! I'm so glad you enjoyed reading this and that you enjoy the boys! And thank you also for going back to read the first of their stories! (Peter is such a little shit :laugh:)

@SneezyHolmes Thank you! Wait no longer :D

@M214186 Thank you so much for the kind words!

@Hedgehog So glad you enjoyed the story, and I'm glad you enjoyed the descriptions! Describing environments, etc is something I tend to struggle with, so the fact that I painted the picture well for you really makes me happy! As for the mess, I'm so sorry it bothered you! I personally am not a fan of it at all either, but I figured I couldn't write someone as stuffed up as Peter and not have something happen from that. :sad: Because mess is not a focus of the story and because I doubt it will pop up again, I didn't add a tag but I did go ahead and add a disclaimer in part one for everyone who may want to steer clear! Thank you again for the suggestion and sorry that caught you off guard! :heart:

---

Wow everyone! Thank you all SO much for such positive reactions to my little story! You are all so sweet. I'm sorry writing a second part to this has taken so long! I recently started up at my new job and it's really been consuming a lot of my time. But finally, I'm finished! Just wanted to thank everyone again for all the kind words and for wanting to read more about my boys. I think there will be more to this story yet, so I hope you'll all stay tuned! Now on with the story! :razz:

Disclaimer: There is some foul language! Just a little warning :)

***

The hacking and harsh sneezes coming from the bathroom could be heard throughout the small apartment despite the pounding rain outside, reaching Geoff’s ears as he made his way into his kitchen. He tutted to himself at the sound of a particularly violent sounding cough and began to rummage for a can of soup in his cupboard. He had already gone ahead and thrown Peter’s drenched clothes into the dryer, even going so far as to empty out the soaked backpack contents as well, placing the man’s waterlogged phone into a bin of rice in an attempt to salvage it. How he had ended up in this situation was beyond him, and he found he was still having trouble wrapping his mind around how this horribly obnoxious Irishman had ended up on his doorstep in London in the first place.

Geoff could remember very clearly the text conversation he had had with Peter just a week prior. Peter had texted him around twelve thirty in the morning, and Geoff had been lying in bed reading a book when his phone had gone off beside him. He glanced at his phone nonchalantly, almost didn’t pick it up but thought better of it, read the message, and placed the phone back down.

Byrnes: Geoff me mum is a right SLAG

 This was a normal text from Peter and Geoff couldn’t be bothered to respond. A few moments passed before the phone buzzed again.

Byrnes: I’m locked out th e ABSolUTE bITCHh!

Geoff read the message, thought a moment, and then typed out, “Bout time she came to her senses. You’re a bloody nuisance.”

Byrnes: SheEs thrEEatin to call the yard caN YO U fuCKING BELIEVE thiS!

Geoff blinked down at his phone, unsure of what to say. They were friends technically, but Geoff felt they weren’t quite close enough for him to comfort the other. He was about to put his phone back down when it buzzed once again. It had been a surprisingly calm text, something Geoff received few and far between from Peter. The Irishman did not sugar-coat it, and had simply texted:

Byrnes: Geoff, mate. Room for one more?

Geoff mulled it over for a moment before responding with a kind but blunt, “Sorry, Peter. You’re not staying here. Besides – You’re in Dublin. There’s no way in hell I’m coming to get you. Good luck though.”

Peter had taken it in stride.

Byrnes: Aye.

Or as “in stride” as Peter possibly could.

Byrnes: Fuck you.

Geoff read the text and snickered. Typical Peter, the bastard. Despite the situation, Geoff found he wasn’t worried about him. As annoying as Peter may be, he wasn’t stupid, and Geoff was confident the man would sort it all out and be back on his feet in no time. So, without so much as a second though, Geoff had turned off his phone, rolled over, and drifted off to sleep.

***

hHA’IIESSh! IIIEESH!” Peter sneezed twice rapidly, openly facing the shower floor as he doubled forward with the force, hands on his knees for support. He stayed bent over for a moment, snorting back the wetness that threatened to drip from the end of his nose. Even with the shower now off, the steam continued to reach deep into his sinuses, coaxing out every bit of congestion it possibly could.

Peter straightened himself up with a huff, stretching his back. His skin felt overly-sensitive from fever, but not nearly as bad as it had felt before the much-needed shower. Having lived on the street for the past 7 days, he was in desperate need of one, and very thankful to have gotten the opportunity to clean himself off.

The Irishman pulled back the shower curtain and stepped carefully onto the tiled floor. He was still a little groggy from lack of sleep and fever, but the shower had done wonders for him.

He reached for the towels Geoff had set on top of the toilet, unsure of which one he had sneezed into earlier, but not really caring either way. He dried himself off quickly before wrapping one of the towels around his waist and throwing the other over his shoulder. His wet clothes had been taken and replaced with a folded pile of warm, dry clothes. Peter cracked a half-smile and sniffed, giving his nose a harsh rub. The steam in the room was slowly starting to dissipate and Peter could feel a chill beginning to creep back into his body. Without giving it much of a second thought, he grabbed the fresh pile of clothes greedily and dropped his towel. Peter wiggled himself into a pair of Geoff's joggers, the cuffs coming up just above his ankles from their height difference. The waistband was also just slightly too big, and Peter pulled the drawstrings tight to try to compensate. Geoff had also left him a slightly-oversized sweatshirt, which Peter pulled on just as quickly. The warmth the clothes offered him was comforting and much-needed, and he found himself letting out a sigh of relief. He hesitated in the bathroom for a moment or two longer before putting on his glasses and exiting the room, the remaining steam following him out of the open door and down the hallway.

***

“Ah’GGSHhOo! HA’SHhOo!”

Geoff glanced up from the steaming pot of tomato soup on the stove to see Peter standing in the kitchen doorway, one hand still cupped around his nose as he sniffled uselessly.

“I’m surprised you still have sneezes left in you, Byrnes.” He said with a smirk, turning his attention to the man, “After all that snorting and sneezing you did in the shower I thought you would have emptied yourself out.”

Uhg…I fuckin’ wish.” Peter grumbled, eyes still pinched closed in irritation as he rubbed his palm aggressively into his itchy nostrils, careful to avoid his nose ring.

“Glad to hear you finally talking.” Geoff folded his arms across his chest, leaning his weight against the countertop, “Not something I thought I’d ever hear myself say, honestly. Take a seat.” He added, pointing a finger at the island across from him.

Peter nodded, snorting pathetically as he took a seat at one of the barstools. He folded his arms across the surface of the island and laid his head down, letting out a miserable groan.

“Hungry?” Geoff offered as he clicked off the stove’s gas burner, grabbing two bowls from a nearby cupboard and a ladle from a drawer.

“No.” Peter answered, head still down, “But I’m craving a fag like you wouldn’t fuckin’ believe.”

“If you think you’re going to smoke in my flat then you’re out of your bloody mind.” Geoff scoffed, shaking his head as he ladled the soup, steam curling up from the bowls, “Besides, the cigarettes in your pack were soaked and falling apart. I threw them away.”

Peter threw his head back at this and groaned again, louder this time, “That was me last fuckin’ pack you complete gobshite!”

“Tough shit.” Geoff shrugged, dropping a bowl of soup in front of Peter, “Eat.”

Peter shot Geoff a glare but picked up the spoon without arguing further and began to eat, blowing softly on each spoonful. Geoff watched him in silence for a moment or two before grabbing his own bowl, still standing as he ate.

“How long has it been since you’ve had a proper meal?” Geoff asked as Peter continued to eat.

“Hell if I know.” The other responded, spooning more of the tomato soup into his mouth.

Geoff nodded in understanding at this, brows knitting a bit in concern. He found that he himself wasn’t actually very hungry and set his bowl down after just a few sips. Peter however had resorted to picking his bowl up and slurping at the last few drops of soup. When he finished, Geoff grabbed the empty bowl from him and replaced it with his own still-full bowl without a word. Peter blinked at him a moment before picking up Geoff’s bowl and greedily slurping back the warm soup.

“I thought you weren’t hungry?” Geoff teased, crossing his arms. Peter shot him a quick “up yours” gesture before gulping back the last mouthfuls of soup and replacing the bowl on the island with a clatter. The warm soup had helped to soothe his scratchy throat and the feeling of a full stomach was nothing short of blissful.

Geoff grabbed the empty bowl from Peter and placed it into the small sink. He lingered there for a moment, trying to catch Peter’s eyes before sauntering back, leaning his weight against the small kitchen island.

“…What the hell are you doing, Byrnes?” He asked with a sigh.

Peter shook his head slightly, placing his head in his hands, “I don’t fuckin’ know.” He murmured, “I’ll sort my shit out. I have my guitar and I haven’t managed to lose my glasses yet, so I must be on the right track.”

Geoff scoffed, “You? On the right track? Give me a break.”

Peter cracked a smile at this and gave a small, wet sniff, “What the hell do you know, Geoffrey.”

“Clearly not enough.” The redhead mumbled, scratching the back of his neck, “What happened to you? How did you end up in London?”

Peter ran a hand through his damp hair and sighed, “I, uh…hopped on the ferry to Hollyhead the next mornin’. I don’t have much but I had enough for a one-way. Hitchhiked my way along as best I could.”

Geoff nodded at this, taking it in, “And you chose London. Why?”

Peter looked up at him sheepishly, not saying a word. Geoff understood immediately. He pushed himself off of the island and let out a tired laugh, dropping his head, “So, you showing up sopping wet in the middle of the night was a part of your plan.”

“Showing up, yes, getting drenched, no.” Peter answered with a small blush, swiping a slender finger under his nose.

“Right.” Geoff sighed, shaking his head again, “And catching cold?”

“That wasn’t in the plan either…”

“You’re a real stupid git, Peter, I hope you know that.” Geoff sighed again, blinking down at the other, “How many days have you been ill?”

Peter thought for a moment, “Two or three, give or take. Today’s been the worst of it.”

Geoff swore under his breath, leaning across the table to place his hand on Peter’s forehead once again. Peter made an attempt to move out of the Englishman’s reach, but Geoff shot him a look and Peter quickly stopped squirming.

“You’ve still got fever.” Geoff murmured, “But the shower’s helped break it a little bit.”

Peter jerked away from Geoff’s touch suddenly, causing the redhead to flinch back in surprise. The Irishman’s eyes pinched closed and he gave a small, audible gasp as his nostrils flared wide. He quickly pulled the front of Geoff’s sweater over his nose and mouth and sneezed a loud, “hhHE’ETtShh!” into the fabric.

Geoff grimaced in disgust, “Jesus Christ, Peter, in my jumper?!”

Peter answered with another sudden shaky inhale of breath, raising a finger up to pause Geoff’s train of thought. His eyes fluttered shut, tearing ever so slightly as he kept his face buried in the soft material of Geoff’s sweater. He inhaled sharply once more before finally jerking forward with another harsh, “HEH’SHh!”

Geoff wrinkled his nose in distaste as he watched the Irishman collect his bearings, rubbing a knuckle under one eye to catch a tear threatening to fall.

“They always come in twos.” Peter grumbled, snorting hard as he rubbed the heel of his hand in circles against his irritated nose.

Geoff scoffed as he watched Peter itch at and wiggle his reddening nose, “Looks like there may be more yet.”

“There’s never more than tww-wWhH’MmMPHF!” Peter jerked his head into his shoulder, bringing up a hand to pinch his nose as the sudden sneeze took him by surprise, “Jesus ChriiihhhhH’GRRMPHFf!” He rocked forward again with yet another sneeze, keeping his thumb and forefinger clamped down against his nostrils. He fell into a spasm of coughs, the last sneeze having ripped its way out of his throat, “Fuck—” He managed to squeak out.

“You are an absolute hot mess.” Geoff shook his head, his voice taking on a tone of sympathy as he turned towards the hallway, “Let me get you some toilet roll. I don’t have any tissues.”

Peter nodded at him as best he could as the coughing began to subside. He took a moment to catch his breath, wiping his nose and watery eyes as Geoff made his way back into the kitchen.

“Here.” Geoff said, tossing Peter the toilet roll which he caught gratefully, “You sound like you need a doctor.”

“With what fuckin’ money?” Peter snuffled, unwrapping a few squares of the toilet roll and blowing his nose thickly into them.

Geoff hummed in understanding, “Figured you’d say that. That’s why I grabbed this.” He said, pulling out a bottle of cherry cough syrup from the front pocket of his sweater, “No use fighting me on this. I’m making you take it whether you like it or not.”

Peter groaned at the sight of the bottle but stayed silent, wiping his nose on a square of toilet roll. He watched as Geoff rummaged in a drawer for a spoon before making his way back around the kitchen island to face him. The redhead uncapped the bottle and poured the sickly sweet red liquid into a tablespoon, “Say ‘ah’.” He smirked, gesturing at the spoon of medicine and then at Peter.

“You’re a real wanker. Give that here.” Peter chuckled, carefully snatching the spoon from the other man and swallowing down the medicine. He grimaced at the flavour, shivering slightly, “That’s completely awful.”

“Innit just? Here, one more.”  Replied the other, filling up the spoon again and passing it back to Peter who swallowed it down with a small retching sound, “There we are. That should help.”

“You’re the devil.” Peter scowled, face still contorted from the taste of the medicine.

Geoff barked a small laugh, “So I’m told.” He stayed quiet for a moment before sighing, “Look, Peter…I’m sure you’re probably exhausted.” He paused to let Peter speak, but when the Irishman didn’t he continued, “You need to rest if you don’t want that cold to kick you in the arse. I’ll bloody kill you if I have to drag your stupid arse to the hospital. Besides, it’s nearly…” He glanced at his wristwatch, “Bloody hell. Nearly two in the morning. Let me make up the couch for you.”

Peter nodded, unravelling more toilet roll and blowing his nose into it, “Are you sure it’s–” he cut himself off to clear his throat, “–are you sure it’s alright if I stay? I mean, I know what you said in your message. I figured maybe if I got meself here, you might–”

Geoff raised up a hand to cut Peter off, “Well, you’re here now, aren’t you?”

“I–”

“So you might as well stay.” He finished, beginning to make his way to the hallway, “Go have a lay on the couch. I’ll grab you a blanket and pillow.”

“Geoffrey.”

Geoff glanced over his shoulder at the sound of his name.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Byrnes.” Geoff replied, giving the other a small, tired smile before leaving the kitchen, “My pleasure.”

***

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I love the accents, the British terminology, the swear words that aren't obvious. Awesome.

And the snark from Jeff, the pitiful Peter. I can't wait for mooore!

:)

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  • 3 months later...

@starpollen right? :inlove: Can't go wrong with colds and accents

@M214186 I'm glad you liked the sneezes! I know it's been a few months since you commented this but I hope you're doing better!

@Juto Thank you for the kind words!

@OnlyInMyDreams You don't know how many times I've googled British terminology to make sure I'm saying the right things :lol: I know a fair amount, but always best to double check hahahaha. Glad you've been enjoying the story so far!

---

Hello lovelies! I'm sorry for the lack of updates the last few months!  I've been beyond busy with work I've barely had any time to write. (What else is new, right? lol) But here we finally are, a part 3! This next chapter isn't as long as the last one, so please forgive me for that. I think I'll be writing a "flashback" chapter, going into detail about how and where Peter caught his nasty cold. (Although that post will have to go onto the adult board! :devil2: If/when I write it, I'll be sure to comment here letting you know!) Hope you all enjoy!

---

 

The night had been long and restless for both men. Peter awoke nearly every forty-five minutes to a persistent tickle in his throat, sending him into vicious coughing fits he would try to muffle into his pillow to no avail. Geoff awoke to the sounds of these fits nearly every time, dragging himself out of bed to force Peter to take another spoonful of the sickly-sweet cough syrup until the Irishman eventually got fed up enough with himself to start taking a swig of the medicine whenever a coughing fit began. By Peter’s fourth fit around five-thirty in the morning Geoff decided getting any kind of sleep at that point would be fruitless and dragged himself to the bathroom to shower and get ready.

Having a moment alone to refresh and recollect in the shower was much needed, and he was thankful to find that Peter had lulled back off to sleep in the time it took him to shower and get dressed. He lingered in the living room doorway for a moment, relieved to see Peter finally sound asleep but slightly worried about how rough the night had been. He felt a brief pang of guilt for initially telling Peter he couldn’t stay with him, but that soon passed. The man was here now and that was really all that mattered. Geoffrey sighed and made his way back to his bedroom to read a book until the sun began to rise.

The redhead tiptoed his way into the kitchen around 8am, catching a glimpse of Peter sprawled on the couch, mouth agape as he continued to snore loudly from his swollen sinuses.

Geoff crept to the sink, filling himself a glass of water. He was about to bring the glass up to his lips when a sudden prickle in the back of his nose nearly caught him off guard. His nostrils twitched once, twice, before he inhaled a sharp breath and clamped his free hand hard over his nose and mouth, letting out an almost inaudible “h-gg’nnx!-huhh…”

“Gesundheit.”

Geoffrey flinched slightly at the sound of Peter’s voice, turning quickly towards the couch to find the Irishman beginning to push himself upright.

“Shit.” Geoff sniffed, pressing the back of his hand harshly against his nose, “Did I wake you?”

Peter shrugged, “Payback for me keeping ya up all night.” His voice was deep and croaky and he winced at the sound of it, clearing his throat aggressively.

Geoff glanced at the glass of water still in his hand he had yet to sip and sighed, “Here, mate.” He said, making his way around the kitchen island and into the living room.

Peter nodded a thank you and accepted the glass, face still contorted from the pain in his throat.

“Alright?” Geoff asked, plopping down across from Peter into a worn-out armchair.

Peter shrugged again as he gulped down the last of the water, “Aye.” He sighed, coughing slightly, “Suppose so.”

Geoffrey huffed, folding his arms across his chest, “That cough is really hanging on there.”

Peter hummed in agreement, sending him into another spew of coughs from the vibration in his throat. When it died down he added, “I’m used to the coughs. You don’t smoke like a chimney and get off with a good pair of lungs.”

“All the more reason for you to quit.” Geoff added with a small chuckle, “If you can’t afford to go to the doctor for a cold you sure as bloody hell can’t afford to go for lung cancer.”

Peter opened his mouth to retort, but instead gasped loudly, his head snapping forward with a throaty “hH’GGYysShh!” He rose up slowly, breath starting to hitch again before snapping down with another, “iIEYSHhho!”

Geoffrey winced as Peter began to cough again from the throaty sneezes, “Bless, you poor bastard.”

Peter nodded a thanks as the coughing began to subside. He brought a free hand up to rub at his throat, wincing at his own touch. Geoff, who had been watching the man intently, leaned forward in his chair, “Hurts to touch?” He asked, gesturing to Peter’s throat.

Peter shrugged, “Nothing feels too great right now.”

Geoffrey gave him a small, sympathetic smile before rising from his old armchair, “Let me take a look at you.” He said, taking a few steps towards the other.

“Be my guest.” Peter invited, opening up his arms comically, “Would ya like me to turn and cough as well? Maybe bend over?”

“What I’d really like, “Geoff began, reaching up his hands to cup them under Peter’s jaw, “Is for you to stop talking. Now stay still.” He instructed as he carefully applied pressure to the other’s nodes, watching closely for any flinching and feeling for swelling. As Geoff had assumed, it didn’t take long for Peter to began wincing at his touch. Geoff tutted to himself when he realized just how swollen the other man really was, offering him an empathetic “Sorry mate” as he continued to press around the swollen glands. Peter let out an irritated sigh, the noise coming out of him as a mucus-y wheeze, causing yet another bought of coughs to tear their way out of him. Geoff removed his hands and backed off a little, giving the man space as the hacking fit slowly subsided.

“Finished?” Geoff asked, getting a pained nod form Peter in return, “Good.” He added, now moving to crouch in front of the Irishman.

“What in the hell are you doing?” Peter croaked, leaning slightly back into the couch in a half-hearted attempt to move away from the other.

“I’m going to listen to your chest you git.” Geoffrey snickered, shaking his head at Peter’s childishness, “Now sit up.”

Peter hesitated only a moment before sitting back upright, spreading his legs ever so slightly so that Geoff could squeeze between them. The redhead proceeded to press his ear against the other man’s chest and began to listen closely, “Just breath normally.” He instructed. Peter obliged.

Upon the first inhale of breath Geoffrey could make out a deep rattling from within Peter’s lungs, immediately alerting him and causing a new pang of worry to spread throughout him. He kept his ear pressed firmly to Peter’s chest, hearing the phlegmy exhaled wheeze of the other. Peter’s next inhale came as two sharp irregular gasps followed by a shaky whistled exhale, causing Geoff to roll his eyes.

“Peter stop being a twat and for once in your bloody life listen to instructions. Breath normally.”

He was answered only by another sharp intake of breath and a long, wavered release.

“Peter I swear–” Geoff began but stopped himself when he felt Peter start to frantically tap his back, his chest still rising and falling with increasingly urgent gasps. Geoff pushed himself off of Peter’s chest slightly to glance up at him, eyes immediately widening as he was met with the sight of Peters head tipped back, red-tinted nostrils flared and twitching, and eyes fluttering shut as he desperately tried to hold off a vicious looking sneeze. Geoff recoiled back quickly as Peter clamped a hand hard around his nose and mouth, turning as much as he could before snapping down, “hHA’nNNg! nNNg’ChUH!” he half-stifled two rapid-fire sneezes, gasped, and shot down again with two more, “gGGYshuh! hHH’NngG!” before erupting into a fit of raspy coughs.

Geoff pushed himself off of the ground and watched Peter intently, arms folded across his chest, “How in the hell did you catch something like this?”

Peter cleared his throat hard, collapsing into the back of the couch from his exhausting fit, “Wend’t on a quest to rescue a princess so that I could get m’be swamp back,” His deep raspy voice came out almost as a whisper, the man now thoroughly congested from his stifles, “Wouldn’dt believe the shite you can pick up while out questing.”

Geoff let out an almighty sigh, snatching yesterday’s toilet roll off of the side table and practically throwing it at Peter, “Prick.”

“The one and only.” Peter croaked with a small chuckle as he ripped himself off a long strip of toilet roll, giving his clogged nose a gurgling blow.

Geoff’s eyes moved from the ill man before him to the nearly empty bottle of cough syrup laying sideways in front of couch and huffed. He knew for a fact that was the last of any type of cold medicine he had in the small flat, meaning if he wanted to help out the idiotic other man he would definitely have a few errands to run during the day. He glanced at his watch as Peter ripped off more of the toilet roll, the Irishman stealing a quick look at the other from behind his make-do tissue.

“It’s quarter past already.” Geoff murmured as Peter geared up for another blow, “I have a few errands I need to run today. Can I trust you won’t destroy my flat in my absence?”

Peter dabbed at his nose and snickered, “No promises.”

Geoff ignored him and turned to leave the room, “Help yourself to whatever you can find. Get some more rest. I won’t be too long.” He paused in the doorway and turned back to face the other, “And stay out of my room.”

“Yes sir.” Peter straightened himself up on the couch and saluted Geoff comically.

The redhead rolled his eyes and exited the small room, flipping Peter the bird on his way out. He made his way down the tight hallway towards the door, grabbing his coat off of the nearby coatrack and wriggling inside. He slipped on a slightly worn pair of brown leather boots and reached for his long, dark red scarf, wrapping it around his neck. The weather was finally starting to change and he wasn’t taking any chances; the last thing he wanted was to end up as fucked up as Peter. The Englishman then opened the door, stifled a barely audible “hg’nnx!” into his scarf, and exited the flat. No, he definitely would not end up like Peter.

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