colds & kindness

[katcoll]

First post from a long-time lurker -- always wanted to try my hand at something like this, but never had the courage, despite how kind & encouraging this community is. Just a little cold/light office romance sort of situation, going to break it up into 3 parts.

***

Monday, 5:12pm

 

The bus is packed. Outside, it’s 37 degrees and drizzling rain, but inside the bus it’s hot and humid, the windows fogged with the breath of dozens of evening commuters. At a downtown stop, a red-nosed businessman sneezes explosively, misting the stabilizing support pole he’s been holding on to, as he shifts to a newly-emptied seat. Seconds later, Emma hops on the bus, grabs the pole, then yawns, rubbing her hands over her face and massaging her eyes. It’s been a long day, and it’s only Monday.

 

Wednesday

 

3:00: time for an afternoon break. Emma steps off the elevator, makes her way through the lobby, and opens the large glass doors of her office building. It’s a clear, cold day, and as she steps out of the shade of the building, the shock of the frigid air and sunlight make her simultaneously shiver and sneeze – hitchoo! She’s headed to the coffee shop for a late afternoon Earl Gray; she’s been dragging all day and she’s got happy hour plans with friends from her old department. Back at her office, she pulls the plastic lid off her tea. The steam wafts up and triggers an itch in her nose. Heh– chuh, she sneezes, and a thin trickle of liquid streams down her nostril, and down her throat. She sniffles, grabbing for a tissue to wipe away the snot. 

 

By 5:40, Emma is seated in the wine bar with her friends. They’ve ordered a bottle of malbec, and a charcuterie plate to share, and are trading stories about inept management. Emma’s been at her new department for three months, and the group has a lot to catch up on, so they split a second bottle. At 8:00, as they’re closing out, Emma’s voice is hoarse and her throat scratchy from shouting and laughing. As they stand to leave, she erupts with three sneezes – huh-CHOO, CHOO, ka-CHOO – spraying the table with the first, catching the second two in her cupped hands. “Sorry!” she giggles, “Red wine always makes me sn- sn- snee-CHOO!” She and her friends exchange hugs and cheek kisses, and she heads for the bus, eager to get to sleep.

[Cici]

This is sweet! I hope the story will continue. 

[NoV]

Welcome to the Forum  

I do hope you will continue this story as the contagion spread  

[katcoll]

part 2..

Thursday

 

Emma awakes to her third alarm at 7:05am. Her head is thick and her throat is dry, and she is regretting the wine from last night. She sits up in bed, and massages her sinuses, which feel swollen, then staggers to the shower. The steam feels amazing and it loosens some congestion, and her nose starts to run. She’s freezing after the shower, so she pulls on fleece tights and a wool dress, then dons her scarf, hat, and winter coat, and heads to the bus. The only available seat on the bus is next to a woman wearing what seems to be half a bottle of perfume, causing Emma’s nose to tickle immensely. Heh-chump! she sneezes, and since her nose hasn’t stopped running, a clump of clear snot escapes with the sneeze. She quickly wipes it away with her wrist, leaving a streak on her coat. “Ew,” she mutters, digging in her purse for a tissue that (it turns out) doesn’t exist.

 

As she waits for the elevator at work, the tickle comes back. Huh – heh – huh – she breathes in raggedly, her hand held in front of her nose. Huhh – “Hi Emma,” comes a voice from behind her, startling the sneeze from her nose. It’s her coworker, Sam. “Oh, hey, Jodn” she says. Sniff. “How are you?” Snfff.

“Oh, I’m fine,” says Sam. “How are you? Coming down with something?”

“Do.” Snnrk. “No. There was a woman on the buh – buh – bus who had the strong - ong – ahh – ugh. She had the strongest perfume I’ve ever sbelled – sniff – smelled in my life, and I think I’m ah – ah – ahhhCHOO –ugh. Allergic to it.” Sniff. Sniff. Snrrrf. 

“Gesundheit!” Sam says, and pulls a travel pack of tissues out of his back pocket, offering it to her. 

“Oh by god, thang you.” Emma takes a tissue with gratitude, and blows her nose wetly… then another tissue… and finally a third, wiping away a trail of mucus. “Ugh,” she says, “That was a mess.” By this time, they’ve reached their floor, and part ways to go to their separate offices.

“See you at the meeting this afternoon?” Sam says, smiling warmly.

“I’ll save you a seat,” Emma promises, feeling herself blush slightly.

 

By the time Emma is getting ready to head to the meeting, just after lunch, she’s not at all sure that Sam was wrong about her coming down with something, but she’s determined to fight it off. Her nose has not stopped running all morning, but for the last hour or so it’s been running down the back of her throat, which has been getting sorer and sorer by the minute. She brought a sandwich from home but ordered soup at the deli instead, unable to imagine swallowing mouthfuls of seeded bread. Her desk is scattered with used tissues and her nose is red. She grabs her notebook, and heads out of her office, the act of standing inexplicably causing her nose to tickle. Heh-CHEW! Heh - CHOO! she sneezes twice in a row. “Wow, that was one hell of a perfume,” she hears behind her. Of course, it’s Sam again.

Emma decides to ignore this comment, and pauses to let Sam catch up to her. He brushes her arm as he joins her, and she feels the flush creeping up her cheeks again. “Are you presenting today?” he asks.

“No, thank god,” she says, and is shocked by how raw and hoarse her voice sounds. She clears her throat violently, and sniffles again. “You?”

“Nope!” Sam responds. “My main goal for the meeting is to stay awake. Maybe I’ll –” KA-CHHHT! Emma interrupts him with another sneeze, barely catching a huge spray and wad of snot in her hands. “Bless you!” says Sam. “You’re getting sick. And you need to carry tissues.” He produces his travel pack from his back pocket.

“Ugh,” Emma groans, taking the tissues and wiping her hands on one before using it to blow her nose. “I think you might be right.”

“Go home,” Sam suggests. “This meeting is just going to be boring. You’re not going to miss anything. Eat some soup. Drink some tea. Get some rest.” He nudges her with an elbow. She shrugs. “I’ll live,” she says, heading into the conference room.

 

The meeting is pure torture. She absorbs nothing that’s being said, all of her attention going to a constant cycle of sniffling, clearing her throat, wiping her nose (blessedly, there’s a tissue box on the table in front of her), and sniffling again. At one point, the tickle returns and her breath begins to hitch – Ah – ha – hahhh and Sam, sitting beside her, whispers “bless you,” preemptively. This causes her to giggle, losing the sneeze, but setting off a throaty cough. “Sorry!” he whispers. She rubs her nose violently with a tissue in response, causing a squelching noise.

After the meeting, Emma staggers back to her office. She hadn’t wanted to blow her nose in the conference room, and she now rather desperately needs to clear her sinuses. Her head is pounding. She shuts the door to her office, grabs her tissue box, and blows through one… two… three… four tissues. She clears her throat to rid herself of the last mucus, takes a big gulp of water (wincing as it hits her throat), and breathes deeply through her newly-cleared nose. Ahchoo! Ka-choo! Uh-tchh. She sneezes three times in a row, stifling the last one, and her nose is running and stuffy again. “Uggghhh.”

 

The next two hours pass in much the same way. Emma is trying to get through some reports, but can’t get into a groove because she’s blowing her nose every three seconds and her head feels like it’s filled with cotton. Her throat feels like knives are slicing it every time she swallows, and eyes are starting to get dry and itchy. Hep-tchhoo! She sprays her keyboard and monitor, and grunts in frustration. It’s 4:30. She is just getting up the energy to put on her coat and head for the bus a bit early when Sam appears in her doorway, holding a steaming Starbucks takeaway cup. “Come on,” he says. “I’m giving  you a ride home. You’re going to get killed by irate commuters if you bring that cold on a bus. This is peppermint, good for your throat,” he adds, handing her the cup. She could cry with gratitude.

 

Sam makes sure Emma’s seat heater is on, and shows her the tissues in his center console. This strikes Emma as funny. “You – sniff – have so bady tissues!” she giggles. “Allergies,” he explains with a smile. “And I was a Boy Scout, so preparation is my jam.” 

 

On the 20 minute drive to Emma’s house, she concentrates mostly on not spraying her germs all over Sam’s car, and not grossing him out with what would certainly be gooey noseblows. Snf. Snf. Snnrck. Heh–snrrrf. HUH-tchh. Tchhk. she stifles a double, and grabs a tissue to wipe away some dripping snot. Snfff. Sam looks sideways at her. “You don’t need to pretend you don’t have a cold,” he says. “I think the cat’s out of the bag on that one.” She responds with a completely unexpected HAH-ESHOOO! which, thankfully, she’s able to mostly catch in the tissue she’s already holding. She blows her nose aggressively, giving up on hiding any of this. 

 

They pass a CVS a few minutes before arriving at Emma’s. “Are you all set?” Sam asks. “Need any cold medicine? Orange juice? Soup? Maybe some tissues?” Emma has nothing but toilet paper and expired NyQuil, but she’s not about to tell Sam that, so she simply says, “I’b good,” and sneezes again – ehTCHOO.

 

When they arrive at Emma’s house, Sam insists on walking her to the door. “Thag you so buch,” Emma says, her nose now completely clogged. “I don’d thig I could have haddled the bus like this. I feel like this code is gettig worse by the – ah-CHOO, kuh-CHEW – bidut.” 

Sam smiles. “I don’t think the bus could’ve handled you. I’m doing society a favor, really.” Emma laughs, which turns again into a cough. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Sam asks. He impulsively puts the back of his hand to her forehead. Emma isn’t sure if she has a fever, but she knows her face is burning at his touch. 

“I’b fide,” she says. “It’s just a code. I’ll be back to dormal in the morddig.” Sam looks like he sincerely doubts this, but doesn’t say anything except, “Get some rest, then,” as he’s leaving.

 

Which Emma does. She eats some leftover spaghetti cold from a Tupperware, then falls asleep on the couch watching old sitcom reruns. She awakes at 11pm, throat on fire, and stumbles to bed, blowing her nose on the collar of her sweatshirt.

[OnlyADream]

This is really good so far! I love reading about the slow escalation of Emma's cold.

[Jettous]

This is great. I love Sam. I hope we get to see more caretaking from him in the next part. 

[Germophobe]

This is great! I’m so glad you decided to write something!

[katcoll]

Thanks for the nice comments, folks! Here's a final bit to this tale.

***

Friday

 

Heh-CHUH. Emma wakes herself with a congested, wet sneeze that rips through her raw throat. She is lying on her stomach, and tries to open her eyes, only to find them glued shut with gunk. There is a trail of snot leading from her nose to the pillow, and a puddle of drool from her night of mouth breathing. She rubs her eyes so she can open them, and snuffles back some snot. “Oh by god,” she rasps, turning to look at her phone. It’s 9:30. She dials the office number, clearing her throat painfully as the phone rings so she can make herself understood. The receptionist answers, and Emma says, “Hi, it’s Emma. I’b – uhh – HUH-CHOO – dot goig to bake it id today.” “No kidding!” says the receptionist. “We’ll see you next week; get some rest.”

 

Emma falls asleep for another 30 minutes, but eventually drags herself out of bed and into the shower where she stands in the hot steam, blowing her nose with her hands, for 20 minutes. Then, she prepares herself for a sick day. She puts her wet hair up in a bun, and rejects her contacts in favor of her big glasses. She dresses in her warmest flannel pajama pants, wool socks, and a thick sweater, and makes a mug of peppermint tea. (She blushes again, thinking of Sam’s kind gesture yesterday.) She can’t find any useful medication – not even ibuprofen, not even the 4-year-old NyQuil she was sure she had – but grabs a roll of toilet paper, a water bottle, and a woolen blanket and heads for the couch. 

 

The day passes in a haze of rom-coms and sneezes. Her head aches, her muscles ache. Her eyes are watering and itchy and red-rimmed. Her sinuses are totally plugged, forcing her to breathe through her mouth and drying out her already-sore throat, but her nose is running freely and tickling constantly. Ah – ha – hahhh. Hehh - uuhh – ehh. She snuffles, clears her throat, coughs, blows her nose. HAH-CHOO. KA-CHOO. ETCHOO, CHOO, CHEEWW. Ahh – huhh —. Wash, rinse, repeat. There’s a pile of snot-filled toilet paper scraps in a growing mound next to her, and her nose is bright red and rivaling her throat in soreness. Emma falls asleep around 2, and wakes up sneezing a couple hours later – ETCH–EWWW ka-TCH etcchhhhew. She groans, gulps some more water, blows her nose, and realizes that she’s starving. She opens up a delivery app on her phone and is listlessly scrolling through soup options when her doorbell rings. “Wod seccud,” she calls hoarsely, wondering as she stands up if she ordered pho in her sleep. She shivers and wraps her blanket around her shoulder.

 

Emma opens the door and is met with a blast of cold air. Hahhh-CHOO! she sneezes, completely uncovered, at the shock of the temperature. “Oh by god, I’b so sor – Johd?” She is stunned to see her coworker, blushing and smiling slightly. He’s got a paper bag in each hand, and is using his forearm to wipe her sneeze spray off his face. “What id the WORLD are you doig here?” she asks.

 

He blushes even deeper and looks down. “I’m sorry to not call first,” he says. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you last night, you looked so miserable. And I just knew that someone who has no tissues with her at work is woefully unprepared for a cold at home, too.”

 

Emma is shivering, and she’s not sure if it’s because of the cold air and her fever, or this wildly unexpected but extremely heart-melting turn of events. Sam, of course, notices. “You need to get back to bed,” he says. “Is it okay –?”

 

“Oh! Yes, of course,” Emma says, stepping out of the way, and letting him into the doorway. “Cub in. I’ve just bed od the couch all day. I’b sorry, it’s a disgusting bess id here,” she adds, shoving a few wads of toilet paper off the couch and onto the floor. 

 

“Oh, no, not keeping up with the housework in your infirm state?” Sam says dryly. “Here, sit down. I brought you a full sick-day care package… and for heaven’s sake, get rid of that toilet paper.” He sits down next to her on the couch and opens the first bag. From it he pulls boxes of DayQuil and NyQuil, two jugs of orange juice (“I didn’t know if you liked pulp or not”), two boxes of lotion-infused tissues, and cough drops.

 

Emma is tearing up at this kind gesture, which is making her eyes and nose stream. Kah-choo! she sneezes helplessly into an open hand, wiping her eyes and nose on her sweater sleeve, since Sam has flung away the toilet paper but not yet opened the tissues. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” he exclaims, ripping off the plastic coating and handing her a wad of fresh tissues. She half-laughs, half-sobs, which (of course) turns into a cough. Sam puts his hand on her back until she’s done coughing and has blown her nose. “You’re sorry?” she says. “I cad’t thang you edough, this is the dicest thig addyone’s done for be id – id – ah – ah-choo, ah-CHOO! - a log tibe.”  

 

Sam shrugs, blushing again. “You deserve someone to be nice to you,” he says softly. There’s a pause, where – if she wasn’t dripping with greenish snot and swallowing knives – Emma would probably have kissed Sam. Instead, she clears her throat thickly, and says, “So, wad’s id the seccud bag?” 

 

“Right,” says Sam, shifting to open the bag. He opens it and pulls out a plastic container. “I brought tom kha,” he says, opening it and letting the steam waft out. Et-choo! sneezes Emma as it hits her face. “Exactly!” says Sam. “Nice and spicy, it’ll clear your sinuses right out. Now, I bought myself some pad thai as well. I’m very happy to take it home and eat it there, and think of you all snug and cozy on this couch with your NyQuil and your nice tissues and your soup. But I was wondering if maybe… you’d want to watch a movie with me?”

 

Emma bites her lip. “Bud I’b so gross,” she protests. “Add I’ll probably ged you sick if you stay. Blus, id’s Friday dight. Don’d you have sobwhere you’d rather be?”

 

Sam looks at her, clearly now, not blushing. “You could never be gross,” he says. “And if my immune system is going to fail, it's already happened with the cloud of germs you left in my car yesterday. And no. I’d rather be with you, sick or not.”

 

And so he stays.

[nothin2sneeze@]

This was so great! I hope we get to see more stories from you in the future!

[lsbn]

This is soooo adorable omg!!!! 😍😍😍

[Heather]

Oh my gosh, this was perfect!!! Can't wait to read more from you 🙂

[CheekyGuy]

Absolutely love this, especially the focus on lots of nice snot production and tissues. Would be lovely to see Emma’s snot flowing out uncontrollably when she has no tissues and isn’t able to wipe it away - perhaps when she is with another guy she fancies? Like with Sam, but maybe someone who secretly enjoys her predicament.

Also loved her being in a meeting but too embarrassed to blow her nose there, despite needing to.

Edited August 14, 2022 by CheekyGuy

[snottysnz]

this is so good! i really enjoy how detailed you are in your writing. the chemistry between sam and emma is so cute, can't wait to hopefully see more! please continue this if you can/don't mind. ❤️

[CharliesGirl]

This was so great. Everyone deserves a nice partner like Sam. 

[FireFlower3013]

Love this!!!

[Leshrack]

Pls continue