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Not to Me - a Tommy and Hayley story

starpollen

By starpollen
in Original Fiction

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starpollen ...and I would write 500 more!

starpollen

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Posted

Had a little plot bunny. :happysmiley:  It's not terribly well-written, but hopefully amusing.  Enjoy!

---

"Not to Me"
30 months - December

 

I was at work when it happened.

TOMMY SAVIORBIKER: Hey, did we get a new laundry detergent?

ME: No.

ME: Why?

No answer.

We were swamped with a new client, so I didn’t have time to think more about it until I got in the car to drive home.   When I remembered, I fired off a quick text.

ME: Why did you ask about the detergent?

ME: Are you ok?

An agonizing 4 minutes later, he responds.

TOMMY SAVIORBIKER: yeah

I relaxed a little, stopped by the grocery store on the way home for a rotisserie chicken and some sides from the amazing salad bar.  Some nights you just don’t feel like cooking, even if it is something that usually relaxes me.  I also picked up more lotion-infused tissues (we kept a constant stock of about ten boxes in the hall closet), some shampoo, bananas, and some orange juice.  

When I came in the door, juggling the bags and my briefcase, I called out, “Hey!  I’m home!”

Tommy’s deep voice floated from somewhere near the back of the house, muffled and incomprehensible.

“What?” I called back, struggling to get the bags into the kitchen and onto the counter.  “Where are you?”

More rumbling nonsense, but I managed to pick out one word.  “… laundry…”

Quickly placing the salads and juice in the fridge, I shrugged out of my blazer and draped it over a dining chair.  Finding my way to the back of the house where the laundry room was, I pushed open the door…

And froze.

The sight that greeted me was a shirtless Tommy, T-shirt hanging from both hands.

And…

“WHAT HAPPENED to you?!” I practically screeched.

His entire chest was red, covered with blotchy hives.  His face was flushed and puffy, nose swollen and glowing with blistering crimson nostrils, eyes streaming.  He opened his mouth to reply, but immediately sucked in a massive wheezy breath and buried his face in the shirt.

“HUH!DJjj’SSHHtt!Uoo-HERRUSSSHHOOO!-AAAHHZZDJTSCHIIUUuuu!- ZZDTTJjjshhhiEWw!...”

And he kept sneezing.  Messy wet explosions that thoroughly soaked the fabric of the now-ruined shirt and caused his muscles to ripple seductively beneath the smooth sheath of his hive-ridden skin.

After a wrenching fit of fourteen, he let loose three loud honking blows, using a balled-up part of the shirt to scrub viciously at the center of his face.

“Oh. My. God.” I blinked, mouth hung open in surprise.  In the time we had been together I had seen Tommy suffer many a desperate, all-consuming allergy attack that left him a wheezy mess.  But this … this was something else.

Raising his flushed and dripping face, Tommy attempted to blink at me through streaming scarlet eyes swollen nearly shut.  I could hear his lungs whistling from here.

“I dohd’t…” he tried, instead sucking another huge breath that sounded so painful and tight that I cringed, and whipped his head to the side to fire off three more huge sneezes, showering the dryer in copious amounts of spray.  “I dod’t kdow whahh…” he stuttered to a halt, tucking his face into his raised elbow as his body jackknifed with another set of five.  “Dod’tkdowwhad’scausigdis…” he rushed out before bringing the shirt back to his face and continuing to sneeze rapid-fire.

Stepping closer to his towering jerking frame, I noted that the hives and swelling stopped at the base of his neck, and also halfway between his shoulder and his elbow.

Exactly where a T-shirt would be.

“Oh my god!” I gasped, grabbing whatever part of the T-shirt he was sneezing into that I could get my hands on, and attempted to pry it from his steel-trap grasp.

“Hayl—EZDJ’SHHUUOO!-ADJZZSHIIEEWW! (stuttering wheezy gasp)  AAASSHHHOOO!-HEEHHH-SHIIEUU!!... whad are y—ECK-ZTSHIIUUU-HEYAASSHOOO!!-AHHASHOOOOO!...”

“Baby let go!... IT’S THE SHIRT.”

“Buhh… bud you saihhh…” and off he went on another huge fit, thankfully releasing the shirt so he could turn his back and brace his hands on his knees to spray at the floor.  “Y—youhh… s-saihhh-said…” followed by more desperate sneezing.

I tried to remember what I had said.  If he was struggling to speak through the violence of this attack, then it must be important.  My mind went back to his text.

The detergent.

But I had told him the truth.  I hadn’t bought new laundry detergent.  But I had switched dryer sheets.  There was a new brand on the market that advertised to be the most hypoallergenic ever made so, of course, I had bought a box.

Gazing across Tommy’s hive-covered back, watching his dark head snap repeatedly down between his wide shoulders as he sneezed and sneezed and sneezed… I sighed.  Clearly, this was a case of false advertising.

“Come on,” I dropped the sodden shirt on the floor where it made a sopping smack against the hardwood, and gingerly stepped to the side of my allergic wreck of a fiancé.  I wrapped one arm around his waist, settling the other against his bicep.  Both his hands came up reflexively to form a flesh and bone cup to shield me from the shower of wetness jetting from every orifice in his face. 

“AAASSHHHOOO!-HEEHSHIIEUU!!-HERRUSSSHHOOO!... (wheeze) AAAHHZZDJoo-TSCHIIUUuuu!...”

I managed to maneuver him upstairs into the master bathroom and strip him of the rest of his clothes, getting sprayed by his constant sneezing despite his best efforts to cover.  The hives spread down his legs, stopping at his ankles just the way jeans would.  I waved away his hitching apologies and turned on the steam shower, trying to remember what clothes we had that might be safe for him to wear until I could re-wash everything with the old brand of dryer sheets.  

Leaving Tommy leaning against the shower door sneezing ferociously at the tile, I went first to grab all of his inhalers.  I wrapped his fingers around his rescue one, relieved to see that he was immediately able to bring it to his mouth for a hit of much-needed medicine.  Even with as much whistling as was coming from his lungs, it didn’t seem like we’d be heading to the hospital anytime soon.  Thank goodness.

Then I went back to rummage through our clothes.  Most everything either had been washed – and dried – recently, or had been in the same drawer or closet space with things that had.  I knew if whatever he was allergic to in these dryer sheets was giving him THIS intense of a reaction, then he would be hypersensitive to it for the next several days.  Any item of clothing with even a whiff of this stuff would set him off.

Finally I opted for going down the hall to the spare bedroom where all of our out-of-season clothes were stored.  It was December, and a warm one for our region (thank you, global warming...) but surely we had something tucked away that was serviceable. 

By the time I came back, Tommy was standing under the fall of hot water, both hands braced on the wall above the tap, head down and sneezing toward the drain.  But it didn’t seem to be letting up.

“hh’IDZMSHoooo!-hr’RMPT’choo! G’XZDSNishoo!... hey-YESHOO! H’RRESSHOO! HH-AASSSHHHEEEOOO!!... EEIIISSSHHHeeeoooo!! AAAHHssHHIIOOooo!! …. h'igk-ah!-HAH!... IDZZYEI’sschOOoo!”

Going back to his nightstand, I found his prescription nasal sprays.  I also grabbed a couple of Benadryl.  Even though he was already on a lot of other allergy meds, it was the fastest way I knew to combat the hives.

Going back into the bathroom, I stripped and joined him in the shower.  One look at his face told me why he was still under the fall of water even though by now it had to have washed away whatever particles were on his skin.  His large, swollen nose was running freely, thick streams of mucus sliding over his lips and down his chin to hang in strings.  His eyes were swollen completely shut, allergic tears leaking out from behind closed lids in a steady flow down his cheeks. 

And he was still sneezing.

“Come on, baby,” I crooned, gently pulling him back and pushing him down to sit on the built-in bench.  He turned his head to the side, attempting to bring his elbow up to sneeze into.  “No, no,” I pulled his chin back around, not even flinching when he sprayed a monster of a sneeze across my stomach.  I took one of our washcloths and wiped his eyes and under his nose, cupping it to his face when he fired off a snotty triple. “Blow,” I commanded, and he did, rumbling a low moan when I pinched his nose through the cloth and scrubbed it for him vigorously.  “I’ve got your nasal spray here and a couple of Benadryl.  Are you gonna be able to do it yourself?”

Tommy’s dark head ducking down to sneeze six times at our knees was my answer.

“Okay,” I breathed, rolling my eyes skyward and thinking to myself the things you do for the one you love… “We’ll see how this goes.”

I lifted his head again, letting him sneeze a few more times into the washcloth and cleaning him up in the aftermath.  Then I waited until there was a small break in the fit. 

 “EZDJ’SHHUUOO!-ADJZZSHIIEEWW! (stuttering wheezy gasp, winding up for more…)”

“Try not to sneeze.”

And I gently but firmly inserted the tip of the nasal spray into his left nostril, closing the right one with my thumb and shooting a stream up into his sinuses.  Quickly pinching both nostrils shut, I wrapped an arm around his shoulders and braced his head against me while he jerked with the forced stifles.

“Nxt!-Nxt!-Ngxt!... ahh-d’NGXT…”

When there was a second tiny pause, I kept the left nostril closed and sprayed up into his right, once more pinching the spasming organ shut as he jerked repeatedly. 

When I had given it enough time to hopefully do some good, I stepped back.  Tommy’s head immediately reared back, crimson nostrils stretched wide as if ready to violently protest the abuse.

“AAAGSSHHHOOO!...” he snapped down with a deep, throaty sneeze.  “HEEHHH-SHIIEUU!!...”  I noticed that there was at least time for him to draw a good breath between them now, which meant the attack was slowing down.  But the angry hives were still prominent on his chest and arms.

I ducked out of the shower to get the glass that lived next to the sink, filling it halfway with water and readying the Benadryl.

“Okay,” I informed him when I stepped back into the steam shower.  “You’re gonna have to try to swallow between sneezes.”  I pressed the glass into his hand, steadying when he fumbled blindly to take it in both of his large palms.  He sprayed another massive sneeze – “HAH!... IDZZYEI’sschOOoo!” – and then I popped the pills in his mouth.  Immediately bringing the glass to his lips, he gulped them down even as his nostrils continued to writhe and pulse over the rim.  The second he finished swallowing, he leaned forward and showered our feet with the wettest sneeze I think I’d ever heard. 

“AHHH-ZDJTSSSCHHHIEEUUUuuu!!”

I stepped back under the fall of water and gave myself a quick once-over with shampoo and soap, then got out to dry and get dressed while he continued to sneeze.  After about 10 minutes, though, I could hear more space between them, and even a few pauses long enough for him to close one nostril and then the other as he blew snottily and vigorously, letting the shower spray wash away the mess. 

Finally, after another 30 minutes, I heard the shower shut off.  Tommy stayed sitting on the bench, snorting and hocking and spitting as the steam slowly died away.  When he did uncoil his massive frame and open the door, I was relieved to see the hives were well on their way to fading from his skin, and his face was much less flushed. 

Sadly, though, his eyes and nose were still incredibly swollen.

“I’b sorry,” he croaked, vocal chords wrecked from the intense sneezing he had been doing for god-knows how long.

“You’re sorry??” I blinked.  “What on earth would you have to be sorry for?  It was me who bought new dryer sheets without first checking to see if you’d be allergic to them.”

“I saw,” he rasped, one corner of his mouth rising in a lopsided grin/grimace.  “Hyboallergedic *snrt* by ass.”

“You can say that again,” I groaned, rolling my eyes. 

“Hyboaller--”

But that’s as far as he got before he had to sneeze again. 

“heyYYAA’DTZSSCHHiioo!! Oh by god, stohh… HHEEHH’SSCHHUuuu!... stooobb already…” he groaned, grabbing a wad of toilet paper and scrubbing at the center of his face.   I could hear how wet and itchy his nose was as it squelched and snorted.

Raking my gaze from his still-sneezy expression to his wide, strong chest and down his flat stomach to his trim hips and muscular thighs… I couldn’t help but clench my hands into fists.  He was the sexiest man, even a dripping allergic mess.

Especially then.

I had dried off, but I wasn’t yet dressed.  Stepping close, I laid a hand against his damp chest and stroked lightly.  “Well… if you’re not gonna stop anytime soon…” 

He attempted to crack open his swollen eyelids to peer down at me.  “You… you wadda… dow??...”

I gazed up at him from beneath my lashes, biting my lower lip.

“I’b dot…” he cleared his throat, cheeks darkening with a self-conscious blush.  “I’b dot… hh- hag od… ZZDTTJjjshhhiEWw!... dot too… hr’RMPT’choo! G’XZDSNishoo!... ugh… I’b dot disgusting?...”

I pulled his head down and kissed him, feeling his large hands come around to pull me close, our naked bodies sparking electricity at every point we touched.  His lips were soft and damp, and he couldn’t help but sniffle thickly in my ear.

And I whispered…

“Not to me.”

 

-Fin

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Mr. Black Cherry Berry Tea Proclaimer

Mr. Black Cherry Berry Tea

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Posted

Oh WOW this was incredible. One of my favorite of your Tommy and Hayley stories yet, and I always enjoy these stories quite a lot. You write allergy attacks so well!

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SterlingSilver Say what I like, like what I say

SterlingSilver

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Posted

Oh my goodness, this was a shot through my heart. They're so precious. I love how sweet she is with him, all the caretaking, and how helplessly adorable he is :happysmiley: This is a really cute dynamic. Thank you so much for writing and sharing! :heart:

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