The Best Laid Plans [M/M; 1/?]

[EveP]

Thank you for this amazing update! I feel rude for wanting more immediately, or sooner. I'll be patient and will only check for the next part once, or twice... a few times a day.

[thesneezyowl]

3 hours ago, EveP said:

Thank you for this amazing update! I feel rude for wanting more immediately, or sooner. I'll be patient and will only check for the next part once, or twice... a few times a day.

Once, or twice … a few times an HOUR for me😂 I’m completely addicted!!! 

[RipleyToo]

Happy New Year’s to you as well!! Thanks for the update!! I hope there will be more soon!! Will Nate catch it even tho his immune system is “legendary”? Maybe he’ll hide it so Mark doesn’t feel bad about getting him sick..I don’t know. 
 

Once again, wonderful update!! I hope to see more very soon!!

[Hannahnas]

This is so unbelievably good😍

patiently waiting for an Update😍

[HPG]

On 1/1/2023 at 3:05 PM, treehouse said:

Nate sighs. “I knew I should have put more stock in that peanut butter in the car story.”

I just about died laughing. What a great call-back!

[ID2006]

I will wait patiently I will wait patiently *opens mouth to beg for more* No, I will wait patiently

[RipleyToo]

20 hours ago, ID2006 said:

I will wait patiently I will wait patiently *opens mouth to beg for more* No, I will wait patiently

That’s me rn 🤣 

[Fiadh]

On 1/2/2023 at 2:47 AM, EveP said:

Thank you for this amazing update! I feel rude for wanting more immediately, or sooner. I'll be patient and will only check for the next part once, or twice... a few times a day.

Glad to know I’m not alone in this lol! It’s so good and I keep checking back for more! I’m just also impressed by the quality and speed at which this is being written! Keep up the amazing work!!!! It’s so well done!!!

[thesneezyowl]

On 1/3/2023 at 2:15 AM, ID2006 said:

I will wait patiently I will wait patiently *opens mouth to beg for more* No, I will wait patiently

I will only check once an hour … I will only check once an hour …

[2SHY222]

I just found this and I'm hooked 🥰. I can't wait for the next part. 

Also I know exactly how Mark feels. I just recovered from a cold from hell and I was just as bad as he is. These two are amazing 🙌

[GraySkies]

This was so good! It literally had all of my favorite things. Thanks so much for posting!

[treehouse]

Hello hello!

FIRST of all and AS ALWAYS: thank you SO SO MUCH for all the lovely comments!! I’m back at work this week after a holiday break and my brain is utterly fried, but my lack of timely reply wasn’t because I have not read and deeply appreciated every single one. It was because I have thrown all spare functionality into writing this up for y’all — I am honored that some of you are checking so regularly (!!) for updates and wanted to provide them as quickly as possible 😄 

We are nearing the end of this tale — there’s one or MAYBE two chapters left, depending on how long it takes me to tie up the last few pieces — and I so hope you enjoy the rest of the ride! Thanks for sticking with me and these characters so far.

-TH

 

 

CHAPTER FIVE

When Mark wakes up this time, he can tell immediately that hours have passed. The light in his bedroom has changed, faded from a mid-morning glow to the gloom of winter afternoon, and he feels heavy with the satisfaction of a long nap, even if he is still completely exhausted. There’s rain pattering against the windows, a gentle, soothing rhythm, and Mark finds himself pleased by it. He likes the rain, so long as he’s not actually outside in it. 

He tries to go back to sleep for a few minutes, then accepts that it’s not in the cards and sits up, rubbing his eyes. Not expecting much from the results, he checks himself over grimly: throat, muscles, chest and knee are all reporting in as “Extremely bad,” while his headache and nose both file a “Dreadful.” Already needing a good blow, Mark looks to his right and sees that Nate has placed a box of tissues, a stack of fresh handkerchiefs, a glass of water, and a tiny pot of Vaseline on the nightstand. Mark’s irritation with his symptoms softens a little — he’s no less ill, of course, but Nate putting so much thought into keeping him comfortable makes it hard for Mark to feel as grim about it as he usually would.

He blows his nose into a handful of tissues, drinks some water, and rubs some Vaseline into his dry lips and chapped nostrils. This, combined with what turns out to have been nearly five hours of sleep, makes Mark feel — well, not really human, or even almost human, but capable of getting up, at least. He throws back the covers, grabs his cane, and shuffles off briefly to use the bathroom, then returns to his bedroom, looking around somewhat hazily. 

There’s a basket of clean, unfolded laundry on the floor. Mark stares at it, appalled — he’s a bit on the cluttered side, sure, but he doesn’t leave clean laundry sitting around unfolded, as a rule — before he remembers. He ran a load on Thursday night, while he was on the phone with Nate; he’d dropped the basket in his bedroom when it came out of the dryer, meaning to fold it before bed, and then he’d just… forgotten about it. He must have walked right past it without seeing it that night, and then again, several times, on Friday morning. Maybe Nate was right about this cold starting on Thursday, which is a humbling thought, since Nate’s known him for all of three months and Mark’s known himself his whole life, but… whatever. That’s a problem for a more cogent time.

The laundry, however, seems like a problem for now. Mark picks up the basket and dumps it out onto his bed, wincing at how weak this stupid bug has rendered him — even lifting a laundry basket feels like a workout. He begins sorting through the clothes all the same, ignoring the ache inherent in standing up and moving around right now. He separates shirts, undergarments, pajamas, and linens into piles to fold, as always, but hasn’t been at it more than a minute or two before he feels the ever-present tickle his nose start to flare very slightly. 

“Ehhckshiew!” Mark sneezes, not bothering to grab for a hanky on the assumption that, since it’s such a small flare, it’ll just be the one. He lazily half-smothers the sneeze against his shoulder, and this seems to take care of things, at least for about twenty seconds or so. But then Mark feels the tickle rise again, very faintly, just like before. It feels as though someone is brushing the very tip of a feather against his already overwhelmed and itchy sinuses, and he sneezes again, this time catching what turns out to be a messy, “HapSCHOO!” in his cupped hand.

“Oh, ew,” he mutters, giving in and grabbing a handkerchief after all. But before he can even start to clean his hands, he sneezes again, pressing the still-folded hanky haphazardly against his nose and mouth to half-catch the sharp double: “HAPSCHOO! ETCHOO!” He wipes his hands quickly, and then starts to blow his nose, but is interrupted halfway through with an insistent, “AAAAACHEW!”

“What the fuck,” Mark mutters, sitting back down on the bed as his breath begins to hitch again. “Heh-eHhhShIEW!” He grabs some tissues and blows hard for a long time, trying with every honk to scratch at the faint but maddening fluttering sensation. It only seems to make things worse; now the sensation feels like a larger feather, brushing more aggressively against a wider path. He begins to feel the itch in his whole nose — up the back of his throat — under his eyes — and scrunches his face up as he sneezes a desperate, “AiiiIiiIIIiiiiiCHEW!” into the filthy tissues, finding it provides no relief at all.

He blows again, wincing as the tissues wipe away the last of the Vaseline he applied, then hastily brings up his hanky to catch another itchy, “EhHHhTCHu!” There’s no point standing up again, because he’s obviously — “HEsssHiew!” — not going to be able — “HaAaaAAACHIEW! AAAAAASHEW!” — to get his nose under — “EhHHh-EHHHTCHIEW!” — any sort of control. He can’t even think without being interrupted by — “AAAAAAAAAASHIEW!”

“I thought I heard you moving around in here,” a voice says. Mark blinks and looks up; Nate’s standing in the doorway, a sympathetic wince on his face. “Bless you. You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Mark says, waving his hanky dismissively before hastily bringing it back to his itching nose. He scrubs at it shamelessly as he hitches his way through, “I — I j-just — c-can’t — s-s-stop — sneEE-HEe-HEEEEECHOO! HEHHHHSHIEW! God, sneeAAAAACHOO! Sn-sn-sneeHHHHHCHOO! EhHhCHOO! Heh-EHH-EHHHSHIEW!” He swears under his breath and gives up on getting the word out in favor of blowing his nose, wishing this accursed tickle would give him a moment’s relief. 

“Sneezing?” Nate suggests gently. He sits down on the bed with a rueful sigh, neatly avoiding all the piles of laundry by planting himself between Mark and the headboard. “Sorry, babe; I know how much that sucks. You want some company until it passes?” 

“HeHhhhH,” Mark replies, but he manages to nod before: “HaaHhAAAASHEW! AAAASHIEW! EHHHHTCHOO!” He leans a little into the warm, comforting wall of Nate’s body, and Nate rewards him by putting an arm around him and squeezing lightly. It feels wonderful, and Mark would thank him, but: “Ehhh….eHHHhh…ehHhhTchoo! Ehhhtchoo, eHhTcHOO, ESSHIEW! EHHHHSHIEW!”

It takes a full five minutes for the fit to wind down, some of the sneezes hitting him in sharp little flurries, others drawing things out for five or ten seconds before he eventually snaps forward into his handkerchief. When the sneezing slows at last, Mark feels like what little energy he’d managed to gain from his nap has been wrung right back out of him. 

“Holy shit, that was awful,” he croaks when the itch finally recedes, reaching up to wipe his eyes with his hanky and then realizing at the last second that it’s soaked, and won’t do any good. Wordlessly, Nate hands him another — he hasn’t moved away from Mark this whole time, has just sat here patiently running a hand up and down Mark’s arm. Mark nods a weary thanks, takes it, wipes his eyes, and blows his nose, before letting his head drop down onto Nate’s shoulder. “I seriously don’t know how you live like that so much of the time, babe. With your allergies, I mean. I felt like my head was going to pop off.”

“I think probably not having a fever helps,” Nate points out. As if reminded, he puts a hand to Mark’s forehead again, sighing at what he finds. “Which you definitely still do, by the way.”

“It probably won’t be that high,” Mark says, sniffling, and curls in a little closer to Nate. “It usually isn’t. It’s always like… just enough to make me miserable.” 

“I’m gonna go ahead and check with a thermometer in a minute all the same,” Nate says, cheerfully enough. “But I have a question first.”

“Sh-sh-shAAAACHOO!” Mark’s glad he has a mostly clean handkerchief to use to smother this sneeze; leaning on Nate like this means Mark came dangerously close to sneezing on him. “Ugh, oh my god, sorry. Shoot.”

“Bless you,” Nate says automatically, and then looks over Mark’s shoulder at the bed with a raised eyebrow. “Were you… doing laundry?”

“Oh — yeah,” Mark says with a shrug, a bit puzzled by the question. “I mean, just folding it. Why?”

“Actually, that was going to be my next question,” Nate says, his brows creasing in what appears to be genuine confusion. “Why?” 

“It… was clean?” Mark says slowly, trying to figure out where the communication gap is here. “And I usually like my clean clothes… folded?” When Nate continues to stare at him as though trying to work something out, Mark, babbling a little, finds himself adding, “I meant to do it Thursday night, but I forgot, and then I saw the basket in here and realized. And, I mean, it’s the only smart move, really — I should get as much done as possible before this cold completely sidelines me.”

“Wow,” Nate says, blinking as he takes this in. “And you — you really don’t think you’re already past that point?”

“Oh, no, I’m… pretty close,” Mark admits, his shoulders sagging. “Might be there, since I can’t even get through the stupid laundry, but. I probably have enough in the tank for a few — a few m-more — things — heHhh… ETCHOO! ETCHOO! EHHHHSHIEW!”

“Christ, that’s actually a little scary,” Nate says, though he keeps his voice light. “And bless you, of course, but — look, Mark. I’m almost afraid to ask, but what do you usually do when you get sick? Like, if I’d been… I don’t know, out of town this weekend, and if the thing hadn’t happened with your car. What would you have done?”

“Why?” Mark asks again, confused by Nate’s interest.

But Nate looks at him with those inquisitive blue eyes and says, “Indulge me?” and Mark, god help him, can’t resist that request.

“I mean, first I’d have… run a bunch of errands, I guess,” Mark says slowly, his thoughts sluggish enough that it takes him a second to shift gears into the hypothetical. “Grocery store, drug store, uh… maybe the deli, to pick up some soup? And then I’d clean the house, and do the laundry, and change the sheets, try to get some cooking done in advance — all that stuff. Then I’d probably…  dig in to try to get as much work as possible done until, you know.” He gestures at himself grimly. “The crash. This always happens eventually, and then I’m useless; the best thing to do is get ahead of it.” 

“I… see,” Nate says. He pauses thoughtfully, and then says, “And did you ever think that maybe the reason you get such bad colds, which take so long to go away, is because you… push your body to the absolute brink of exhaustion right when it should be focusing on fighting off the virus?”

Mark sits silently in the brutal spotlight of this question for a long moment. Then, in a voice trembling with self-directed rage at never having considered this before, he says, “I… did not.”

“Ah,” Nate says, sounding like he’s trying not to laugh. “Well, listen — how about we try it my way this time? Here’s what that looks like: you can be in this bed or you can be on the couch, and you can sleep and watch movies and drink tea and eat snacks, but anything beyond that is pretty much off the table. It’s called rest — I understand that maybe you’ve never heard of it before — “

“But — the laundry,” Mark protests, glancing back at it with dismay. “It’s all over the bed — “

“I will deal with the laundry, Mark,” Nate says, and holds up a hand when Mark opens his mouth to protest. “For god’s sake, spare us both whatever you’re about to say. I am an adult man who is not currently sick — I’m perfectly capable of folding clothes. This is not an imposition! It’ll take me ten minutes, tops.”

Mark opens his mouth to argue and… doesn’t. He thinks instead of Nell, abruptly so angry last night. Thinks of Nate’s mood changing, relief obviously breaking over him, when Mark stopped fighting and admitted he had a cold.

“Okay,” he says, sniffling. “Thanks. But you have to let me help, at least.“ He sits up straighter and grabs for the pile nearest to him, only to pitch forward with an unexpected, “HaaaAASCHOO!” instead. It’s a messy sneeze that he doesn’t manage to cover in time, and it splatters all over the pile of clothes he was reaching for, dirtying them again. Embarrassed, Mark shoves them off the bed so they land in the basket on the floor, and mutters, “On second thought, those can just go right back in the wash.”

Nate offers him a sympathetic little squeeze and then, true to his word, gets up and folds Mark’s remaining laundry. It doesn’t take him long, as he’d said it wouldn’t, and he takes direction from Mark as to where to put everything away, waiting patiently when he has to pause to cough or sneeze. 

When the task is done, he sits back down next to Mark and says, “All right. Now: bed or couch?”

Mark blinks at him. “What?”

“Bed,” Nate says, patting the bed as if in illustration, “or couch? If you’re feeling like staying in bed, I can move your TV in here; if you’d like to be on the couch, I can make things more comfortable out there. Which will it be?”

“Oh, I mean, you don’t have to do — “

“Babe,” Nate says, rolling his eyes. “I know I don’t have to. I don’t have to do anything; you’re not holding me here as your prisoner. I am offering and choosing to do things, because I want to help, because I lo— because I, uh, care about you. Now, decision time, I’m serious: bed or couch?” 

“Couch,” Mark says, ducking his head slightly to spare Nate the full brunt of his stupid, sappy smile. “I get antsy if I stay in bed too long.”

“Can’t have that,” Nate says, only sounding half joking when he adds, “I might come in here to find you repainting the walls or something.” He stands and scoops up Mark’s plush white comforter, rolling it up haphazardly to stick under one arm, before he snatches a couple of the pillows off the bed and says, “Just give me a few minutes.”

Slightly bemused, Mark gives him a few minutes; he needs to blow his nose again anyway. When Nate calls out, “Okay, you can come in!” Mark stands, wincing at the chorus of internal objects, and shuffles into the living room, where he stops, blinking.

Nate has set up Mark’s favorite spot on the couch — the chaise lounge built into the end closest to the kitchen — with the pillows and comforter from the bedroom. There are tissues, handkerchiefs, a thermometer, and several types of cold medication sitting on the side table, as well as a glass of water, a steaming cup of tea, what appears to be a grilled cheese sandwich, and the remote. He’s lowered both the blinds and the lighting to spare Mark’s headache, and he’s even managed to track down Mark’s favorite slippers, which he’s placed next to the couch. 

“Soup won’t be ready ‘til later, but you should eat something,” Nate says with a shrug, apparently somehow interpreting Mark’s long silence as an objection to the sandwich. “But if you don’t want grilled cheese, that’s okay, I can — “

“Nate, shut up,” Mark groans, feeling near tears and trying desperately to conceal it. He covers his face with one hand as he says, “This is — it’s so nice. I don’t — it’s a great sandwich, don’t be stupid, I’m just… I wasn’t expecting… uh. Thanks, is what I’m trying to say.”

“Oh,” Nate says, a surprised little smile stealing onto his face. “I — sure. It’s not like it was any trouble.”

Mark sits down on the couch, leaning back against the familiar, blissful softness of his bedroom pillows, and sighs with delight as he pulls the comforter up over him. “Oh my god, why did I never think of doing this?”

“I’m afraid I didn’t either; credit goes to Ramona on this one,” Nate admits, sitting down next to Mark. “She makes me do it when she’s sick, and you know what? She might only be six, but she’s right. It’s the height of coziness.”

“I always knew she was a genius,” Mark says with a satisfied sigh.

“Well, she does have good taste,” Nate says with a smile. He reaches across Mark to grab something from the side table —

— and Mark sneezes, an abrupt, “HupSHIEW!” that sneaks up on him before he can so much as turn his head, let alone cover it. It’s wet and spraying, and to Mark’s horror, it casts a thin cloud of mist across Nate’s arm.

“Nate, oh my god, I’m so,” Mark gasps, mortified, but before he can get any further in his apology the tickle flares again. This time he at least gets the chance to turn his head into his shoulder before: “HaaAaaahCHOO! HAAASHIEW! Oh, n-no — eHhSHIEW! EhhShIeW! Ahhh-aHhHhH-AAAHSHIEW! ASHEW, ASHEW, ASHEE, ASHEW, AAAAAASHIEW! God, I’m so — so sorry, I — I — EHHHHHSHIEW!”

“Whoa, babe, calm down, it’s okay,“ Nate says soothingly. He grabs a hanky and hands it to Mark, who sneezes desperately into it twice more as Nate says, “I told you already that you don’t have to apologize.” 

“But I — I — AAAAAASHIEW! Fuck, I sneezed on you,” Mark says, knowing his face must beet red. “You’ve been so wonderful and — and so helpful and I — I just — EhHhhTCHU! HEHTCHiU! Oh my god, HAAASCHOO!”

“Bless you. And I hate to draw attention to this, but I’ve definitely sneezed on you,” Nate says, his expression turning rueful. “You’re always really nice about it and don’t point it out, but I know I have. You’re fine.” 

“That’s different,” Mark says immediately, “I…“ He pauses, panic-stricken — he almost said out loud that he likes it when Nate sneezes! He blows his nose, which he needed to do quite badly anyway, to buy himself some time, then hastily says, “You — you can’t help it. And anyway, I know it’s just your allergies; it’s not like you’re contagious, like I am.”

“You can’t help it either, and I think we’re well past the contagion point, Mark,” Nate says, though he seems cheerful enough about it. “I seriously wouldn’t worry about that — I’ll be fine. If I get sick I get sick, but it won’t be like this; colds don’t, uh, hit me quite as hard as they seem to hit you. The last time I was as sick as you seem right now was when I had mono in college.”

“God, mono,” Mark says, wincing at the memory. “I had it in high school; that’s how every gay in my grade found out we’d all hooked up with Thom Jacobsen in the same weekend. There were only four of us, but it really rocked our little social group.”

Nate laughs, shaking his head. “I bet. Sometimes I’m sad I didn’t come out until college, but sometimes I’m really not.” He looks over Mark and winces. “Christ, if this is what a cold looks like, mono must have bodied you.” 

“Oh, yeah, it was the worst,” Mark says with a sigh. “I missed like a month of school, and — AAAAAACHOO! HECHOO! EHHHTCHU!” He has to pause to blow his nose again, moaning, “Oh my god, it never ends,” when he finishes. 

“Time for some meds, I think,” Nate says, patting Mark on the knee. He stands, grabs the thermometer off the side table, and passes it over, saying, “You mind checking your temp for me while I figure out which of these are safe to take together?”

Mark does mind a little, mostly because he’d rather not appear any more pathetically ill than he already does, but he takes the thermometer and sticks it in his mouth anyway. He watches with crossed eyes as the number on the little electric screen climbs, not really surprised at where it’s landed by the time it beeps.

“102.3,” Nate says, pulling the thermometer out of Mark’s mouth and looking down at it with a whistle. “Poor baby — no wonder you feel awful. Here, take these; they should help a little, I think.”

Mark accepts the glass of water and small handful of pills Nate’s offering, and swallows them back without even looking at them. He trusts Nate, and at this point, he’d take anything that even vaguely gestured towards the promise of relief. He drinks most of the glass of water, too, largely because it feels so nice going down his sore throat.

“Thank you,” Nate says when Mark’s finished, sounding like he’s genuinely grateful for Mark taking a little cold medicine. He picks up the plate with the grilled cheese, which he places on Mark’s lap before claiming the remote and sitting back down next to him. “Now: what counts as sick day viewing around here? I have to imagine it’s different than what Chris and Ramona like.”

“I bet you’d feel pretty silly if I said Sesame Street right now,” Mark says, smiling slightly. “But honestly, whatever you want is fine; I probably won’t be paying that much attention anyway.”

“What would you watch if I wasn’t here?” Nate presses. 

Mark pulls a slightly sheepish face. “Shitty reality TV, probably? I’m not like — l-like — HECHOO! ETCHOO, ETCHOO, AAASHEW! Ugh, proud of this, but when you fall asleep in the middle or forget what happened in a bunch of episodes it doesn’t matter, so. Real Housewives, the Bachelorette, House Hunters — “

“Oh, I could get into some House Hunters,” Nate says, settling back into his seat and turning on the TV. He sounds genuinely excited by the prospect, and Mark relaxes a little, taking a bite of his sandwich as Nate flips through a variety of channels and screens.

“Mmm!” Mark exclaims, surprised and pleased by the taste. He’d sort of expected a standard Kraft slice grilled cheese, but: “Are there apples in this?”

“Yeah,” Nate says, grinning. “And Gruyère I got from that guy at the cheese stand.”

“Wow, I… do not remember the cheese stand,” Mark admits, taking another bite. “God, this is fucking delicious.” 

“Thanks, babe; glad you like it. And, yeah, you were not in a great place this morning,” Nate says, with a little sigh. “Margo, the bread vendor, gave me a whole earful about what I thought I was doing, bringing you out in that condition.”

“Did you tell her it was my own fault?” Mark asks, and then, realizing he’s already housed more than half of his sandwich, adds, “Oh my god, wait — did you want some of this?” 

“I made myself one hours ago, babe,” Nate says, waving a hand. “In fact, please eat that — I know all you’ve had today is a croissant. And no, I didn’t tell Margo it was your decision to come, because she would have argued that you weren’t in any state to be deciding things, and honestly? She would have been right. I really should have insisted we stay here — this morning and last night — but, well.” He shrugs, and looks away, the muscles in his neck tightening. “I was… stressed. I wasn’t thinking as clearly as I could have been.”

“You don’t get stressed,” Mark says, aghast, although not so aghast that he doesn’t keep eating the sandwich. After another bite, he says, “You’re — you’re so chill! All the time! You laugh when people cut you off in traffic! Last month Chris poured paint into your toolbox and you just shook your head and said, ‘That’s kids for you!’”

“I mean, it was only water based paint,” Nate says, shrugging. “It washed right off.” 

Mark laughs, coughs, drinks some tea, and finishes off the last bite of grilled cheese before he says, “Well, you have an easier nature than I do, that’s for sure.”

“I think you act like you’re a lot more difficult than you actually are,” Nate says, rolling his eyes. More thoughtfully, he adds, “And the truth is, I do get stressed, just… only about important things. Traffic or a little paint — that’s just dumb stuff, the sort of thing that happens everyday. I don’t have the energy to get upset over mundane shit like that, and anyway, you’re right; it’s not in my nature.” He reaches over and takes Mark’s empty plate, placing it on the coffee table as Mark murmurs a soft thanks, before continuing, “But you, your health: that matters to me. You almost died yesterday, Mark. If you hadn’t gotten the car off the road when you did — look, I know you don’t want to talk about it yet, and we don’t have to, but I think it’s fair to say I found that pretty stressful, yeah.” He puts an arm around Mark and kicks his legs up over the blanket onto the edge of the chaise, which softens the blow as, quietly, he says, “Watching you run yourself ragged wasn’t what I’d call a fun time, either.”

Mark has to pause the conversation to sneeze at this point, a loud, desperate fit of seven that leaves him coughing: “EhHh… eHhShieW! EhhSHIEW! HeH….heHhhh… oh — HEHAAAACHOO! HAAAASHIEW! HAH-HAAAAARSHOO! HRAAAASHOO! EhhHh-ehHHH-EHHHHH-EHHHHHHHHHTCHOO!” When he finally catches his breath, he grabs several tissues, blows his nose furiously, picks up a fresh hanky to be prepared for the inevitable next bout, and, weakly, says, “God, Nate, I’m so sorry.”

“Bless you, babe, wow,” Nate says. He squeezes Mark’s bicep gently as he adds, “And I told you — you don’t have to apologize for sneezing.”

“No, I know,” Mark says softly. His eyes are burning; stupid fever emotions, never doing what he wants them to. “I meant — sorry for uh. Running around. Stressing you out. The thing with the car — “

“Aw, sweetheart, c’mere,” Nate says with a sigh. He pulls gently at Mark’s shoulder until Mark curls into him, settling half-draped over Nate’s broad, comfortable chest. It’s radiating warmth, like the arm Nate winds protectively around him, and Mark feels himself start to relax even before Nate says, “That’s not what I meant. It’s not — I’m not trying to make you feel guilty or anything, god. It wasn’t your fault, and I don’t ever want you to apologize to me for making me care about you. Just… it surprised me, that’s all. The, uh, intensity of the panic.” He takes and then exhales a deep breath, one that makes his chest rise and fall under Mark’s head. “I thought I was good at that kind of thing, you know? Staying cool in high-stakes situations? God knows I’ve been in enough of them. But yesterday I was a total mess.”

“You were not,” Mark says, smothering a yawn. “You — you got all the people. The fire truck, and the ambulance — “

“Yeah, and I snapped at Finn over nothing,”Nate says darkly, sliding a hand into Mark’s hair. “And I completely freaked out at poor Gracie when I went to get her — she’s basically the sweetest person alive, even if she is a little tactless, and she didn’t need me barging into her workplace like a wild man. I’ll have to drop by and apologize once you’re doing a little better.” His fingers run a firm, soothing pattern against Mark’s scalp, and Mark groans, going utterly boneless. Nate sounds a lot less grim and a lot more amused as he says, “Ah. So that feels good, then?”

“So good,” Mark sighs, his eyes closing. He yawns again, not bothering to smother it this time. “Anyway, I think you did gr-gr-ETCHU!” He brings up his hanky to catch this sneeze without lifting his head from Nate’s chest, too exhausted and comfortable to bother. “Ugh, great. You’re — you’re asking too much — hEHhh — of — yourself — hEHHHHSHIEW! Ehh-ETCHOO! God, excuse me.”

“Bless you,” Nate says softly. “And if I’m asking too much of anyone, it’s you — you don’t need to be talking me off this particular ledge right now.” He must hit something on the remote, because the familiar sound of an episode of House Hunters filters into the room. “I think some bad television and another nap might be just what the doctor ordered.”

“I can’t sleep again,” Mark protests, though he curls in even closer to Nate, and doesn’t open his eyes. “I just… did that. Like. So… soon. No, wait, I mean — recently.” He pauses for a huge, cracking yawn, then rubs his cheek lightly against the soft fabric of Nate’s shirt, not even totally aware that he’s doing it. “Whatever. You know what I’m saying.”

“Again, what you’re experiencing here is called rest,” Nate says, his tone gently teasing. “I understand that it’s very unfamiliar to you; do not be alarmed.”

“You’re such an ass,” Mark says, not meaning it at all. He yawns again, and drowsily admits, “Fuck, I guess am pretty tired. Stupid cold.”

“It’s okay, babe,” Nate says, his hand still running long, soothing strokes through Mark’s hair. “You nap; I’ll be here watching these people inevitably buy the wrong house.” He pauses, and then, clearly to the television, says, “See, right there, right off the bat — that exterior drainage is worthless. For god’s sake, there’s standing water in the staging shot!”

Nate’s chest moves up and down as he complains, quietly and sounding like he’s enjoying himself, to the television. Mark half-follows what he’s saying at first, but decreasingly so as the minutes pass; eventually Nate’s voice is nothing more than a distant, comforting rumble, the crashing of waves against the edge of a vast ocean.

In the last moment beneath wakefulness and sleep, Mark smiles: for the first time in two days, he feels warm. 

—

[thesneezyowl]

Thank you for the update! I’ve already devoured this a few times over!!! I love seeing Mark’s walls slowly crumble as Nate takes such good care oh him. 

[RipleyToo]

Loving this!! Will you be making another story involving these 2 again? At some point? They’re so cute! Thanks for another quick update!! Can’t wait for the next part for sure 😊 

[ID2006]

So much I love. Currently have headache but will hopefully have a more full response later. And 

"… see,” Nate says. He pauses thoughtfully, and then says, “And did you ever think that maybe the reason you get such bad colds, which take so long to go away, is because you… push your body to the absolute brink of exhaustion right when it should be focusing on fighting off the virus?”"

I have a hard time recovering from colds and always act like Mark, it literally never occurred to me that some people are like Nate and actually rest BEFORE the crash.

[Privatedancer]

On 1/1/2023 at 12:05 PM, treehouse said:

love, love, love!!!!

[EveP]

I saw this when I woke up this morning, but had to wait until now (late afternoon) to read it in peace and quiet - do you have any idea how hard that was? But she who waits for something good...

Lovely update. I love that Nate builds Mark a nest on the chaise longue on the couch, just like I do when I'm unwell. Thank you @treehouse! 

[thesneezyowl]

Just here … stalking this story … again

It’s me …

Hi …

I’m the problem …

It’s me. 

[ID2006]

4 hours ago, thesneezyowl said:

Just here … stalking this story … again

It’s me …

Hi …

I’m the problem …

It’s me. 

I'm dying 🤣 I feel like each one of us could be popping up singing one line of this.

[GraySkies]

I devoured this update. I love Mark and Nate so much!

[hetchiew]

I love this!!

Do you think that Mark will tell Nate that he likes his sneezes in the future? I’d love to read that!

[Fiadh]

On 1/7/2023 at 4:50 PM, hetchiew said:

Do you think that Mark will tell Nate that he likes his sneezes in the future?

Omg I really really hope so!!!!! 

[thesneezyowl]

On 1/7/2023 at 6:50 PM, hetchiew said:

I love this!!

Do you think that Mark will tell Nate that he likes his sneezes in the future? I’d love to read that!

Well wouldn’t that be just the best thing ever!!!!! I am here for it. Let’s be honest … I’m here for ANYTHING Nate and Mark. 

[Privatedancer]

I do so miss these boys 

[EveP]

58 minutes ago, Privatedancer said:

I do so miss these boys 

Me too. I guess @treehouse has a life or something. 😕 I don't, so I keep checking here again and again and again...