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silentsneezes · 8 months

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ive recently become obsessed with g/ood/ o/mens (especially c/rowley) so here’s a little 2.2k cold fic i wrote!

if anyone is interested in exchanging snzcanons/writing prompts lmk! also my inbox is open if anyone has requests :)

with that said, enjoy! (sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors- i only proofread this once)

Crowley had been having a truly awful day; First, he’d woken up with a splitting headache and a throat like sandpaper.

Then, much to his disapproval, he realized that his newest plant had attracted fruit flies.

After spending a good ten minutes swatting at various flies, he gave up, huffing in resignation and making a mental note to buy fly traps. His throat burned too badly for him to yell at the plant, but he assured it that there would be a punishment.

Eventually, Crowley took to sitting at his desk and glaring at the flies buzzing around, slamming a book on any fly that dared to land on his desk.

And - most annoyingly - Crowley kept sneezing. At first, the demon didn’t mind. A few sneezes here and there weren’t uncommon, but it proved to be more than just a few.

As Crowley was snuffling into his sleeve, the black phone on his desk rang harshly. The demon sniffed deeply and cleared his throat, ignoring the painful burning sensation, “Hello?” he drawled, interally cursing the obvious congestion in his voice.

“Hello dear,” Aziraphale’s voice sounded through the phone, and Crowley grinned; he would always be happy to hear from the angel, regardless of how shitty he might feel, “I was wondering if I could ask for a favor,” he explained, sounding sheepish.

Crowley’s surprise was evident as he replied, but his response was genuine nonetheless, “Of course, always.”

As Crowley answered, he felt a faint burning sensation form in the back of his sinuses. He pressed a finger against his septum, hoping to quell the itch.

“Well you see,” Aziraphale started explaining his predicament- something to do with the way his books were arranged- as the burning sensation moved towards the front of Crowley’s nose, making his nostrils quiver with anticipation.

The demon quickly pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger to squash a sneeze into complete silence, cringing as his vision blurred momentarily. He released his nose, sniffing experimentally and feeling relieved that the single stifle was enough to quell the itch.

“-So I was wondering if you’d like to come to the shop and lend a hand?,” Aziraphale proposed, “I just got the loveliest merlot!”

“Well, I can’t say no to a nice bottle of wine, can I?” Crowley replied, but both he and Aziraphale knew he’d go regardless of whether or not there was wine; as long as his angel was there.

“Splendid!”

Crowley could practically hear Aziraphale’s smile through the phone, “I’ll be there at seven,” he said before fumbling to hang up the phone. He pitched to the side, a sneeze suddenly tearing through him.

“hh’HRRTDSCH!”

He scowled at the spray that landed on his lap, unable to cover in time, “Fugk me,” he groaned.

Crowley glanced at his watch: 5:42. ‘How is it already that late?’ he thought, wondering how many hours he’d spent sitting at his desk in a feverish haze.

He knew that he should start getting ready, but his body seemed to have other ideas. The demon was suddenly all too aware of the way his legs and feet throbbed, even as he sat; his body ached, his nose felt raw, and his head felt like it could explode at any moment.

He groaned, leaning his head against the cool, sleek desk and letting his eyes fall shut. It took everything in him to get up and saunter over to the bathroom.

“hh-,” Crowley’s breath started hitching as he peeled off his shirt, tossing it to the side and tugging off his pants. As he was taking off his boxers, he pitched forwards with a small onslaught of sneezes, “hH’ITSCHH! heHSZCHEW! heh- hh… HRRSCHHh!”

The sneezes left him panting, bent over at the waist with one hand placed on a nearby wall for support. He clambered into the shower, turning it as hot as possible and letting the water run over his face.

The demon rubbed harshly at his nose, which was already red and raw. Much to his dismay, the appendage twitched, nostrils flaring as the itch returned with a vengeance .

“Fu-heh-fuck…hhheH-EHTSHCIEW!”

He cringed at the mess that sprayed against his chest, blowing his nose productively as the steam loosened the congestion in his sinuses.

Luckily, Crowley managed to make it through the rest of the shower without sneezing- which was quite the accomplishment: his colds have always been accompanied with relentless sneezing.

As soon as Crowley stepped out of the shower, he started shivering. He scowled, pulling on a turtleneck and some black pants; he had decided against wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, despite his desire to feel comfortable.

He glanced at his watch again: 6:19

He was in the shower for longer than he’d realized, enjoying the burning heat of the water. Unfortunately, it hadn’t occurred to him that standing in a hot shower for half an hour would only make his fever worse.

He slumped into his seat, rubbing at his temples and removing his glasses. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in a nearby mirror and cringed. He was visibly sick, and he was sure Aziraphale would notice. He considered calling the angel and canceling, but that wasn’t truly what he wanted (what he wanted, of course, was his angel).

“heh-hh,” Crowley’s breath hitched wildly as the itch suddenly returned, head rearing back and nostrils flaring, “hhhehHITSCHHh!” He snapped forwards with a powerful, unrestrained sneeze, barely managing to cover in time, “fugk me.”

After tending to his nose and washing his hands, he grabbed the keys to the Bentley.

The drive to the bookstore went by in a feverish haze. It was rather uneventful, except for the few times when the car was jerked into the other lane as Crowley bent double with a sneeze (or two).

It didn’t take long for Crowley to pull up in front of the bookshop, parking in his usual spot and clambering out. His head spun as he stepped out of the Bentley, and he had to lean against its black frame to stay upright.

Once he was sure he could stand on his own, he sauntered towards the bookshop, pushing the door open and hearing the familiar bell ring. He frowned when he realized he couldn’t smell; he’d always loved the smell of the store, though he would never admit that.

“I’m afraid we’re closed this evening,” Aziraphale called out in response to the bell’s chiming.

“Well, that’s a shame,” Crowley made a beeline for the plush red chair in the back of the bookstore.

“Oh! Crowley,” Aziraphale replied fondly, emerging from behind a bookshelf and grinning jovially. His smile faltered as he took in the demon’s appearance: his nose was red and bothered, his cheeks flushed, and his eyebags more prominent than usual.

As Crowley took a seat, Aziraphale busied himself with the tea kettle- Crowley was clearly in no condition for wine.

“So, what am I helping with?” Crowley asked, his voice raw and gravely.

‘Oh right, the favor,’ Aziraphale thought; He’d completely forgotten about his book organizing crisis after realizing Crowley was sick.

“It’s nothing, really. Muriel just had some free time and decided to reorganize all the books by color coordination,” despite Aziraphale’s annoyance, he still spoke of Muriel fondly; after all, they were intending to help.

Crowley laughed, which sparked a rough coughing fit, caught in his elbow, “S’cuse me,” he cleared his throat, feeling Aziraphale’s eyes observing him closely.

“Are you feeling alright, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked hesitantly, not wanting to anger or embarass the demon. In fact, he wanted to do quite the opposite; it was taking every ounce of self control not to wrap Crowley in a blanket and tend to his every need.

But that wasn’t part of their arrangement. They were simply an angel and a demon, occasionally exchanging favors and enjoying fine dining at the ritz. Except their arrangement had changed. Their dinners often turned into late nights full of dancing, talking, and laughing. They both sensed the change, but neither mentioned it, not wanting to burst their perfect bubble.

“Never felt better,” Crowley replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. His statement was undermined as he sniffled wetly, his body determined to betray him.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow questioningly, to which Crowley shrugged. The angel sighed, deciding not to push the topic any further.

“So, are we rearranging or not?” Crowley asked, gesturing to the color coordinated bookshelves- which, admittedly, looked pretty nice.

Aziraphale hesitated. As badly as he wanted to reorganize his books, it was clear that Crowley was in no condition, “No, no I don’t think so. I wouldn’t want to undo Muriel’s hard work,” he excused.

Crowley was too distracted by a blooming itch in his nose to notice the angel’s obvious excuse, “hh,” despite his best efforts to quell the itch, his breath started hitching. Aziraphale nearly cooed, but he restrained himself for Crowley’s sake.

“hUTSCHHhew! hh-H’GNZTCH!”

“Bless you,” Aziraphale blessed him out of habit, a seemingly harmless act.

Crowley cursed, ducking back into his elbow, “hKISCHHh! ITSSCHHew!”

“Oh dear, bl-,” Aziraphale started, but Crowley cut him off, speaking through a desperate hitching breath.

“St-heh-stopheh- hhHTSCHH stop it with the blessings,” Crowley snapped, followed by an immediate pang of guilt at Aziraphale’s expression.

“I’m so sorry! I completely forgot about that,” he paused, searching for the right word, “peculiarity of yours.”

He learned early on in their relationship that blessing Crowley simply resulted in more sneezing, but blessing people came so naturally to him, he often did it without thinking.

“It’s alright angel,” Crowley waved a dismissive hand.

“Are you quite sure you’re feeling-,” Aziraphale started, but he was interrupted by the wailing of the tea kettle. Crowley was grateful for the distraction. As Aziraphale turned away to make tea, he used his sleeve to tend to his running nose.

Aziraphale returned a minute later with two cups of tea, smiling warmly as he set one beside Crowley.

“I thought you had a bottle of merlot?” Crowley asked, but he honestly didn’t care: wine would likely make him feel worse.

“Yes, well. We can enjoy that another time,” Aziraphale replied fondly, “But I’m in the mood for tea.”

Crowley rolled his eyes beneath his shades, but he tried the tea nonetheless. It soothed his throat, and he took a second sip, feeling his body relax slightly as the discomfort in his throat lessened.

As he continued drinking his tea, Crowley began to realize how truly miserable he felt; he hadn’t had a cold this bad in ages.

He rushed to set down his tea as a prickling sensation formed in the back of his nose. Aziraphale, noticing his hitching breath, placed a comforting hand on his back. Initially, Crowley tensed under the touch, a low hiss escaping him.

“h’MPDzXt” The stifle grated against his sore throat, and did nothing to please the burning in his sinuses.

Aziraphale rubbed small patterns along Crowley’s back, admiring his somewhat toned physique as his breath continued hitching, “don’t hold them in darling,” he instructed, voice soft.

Crowley whined, rubbing harshly at the itchy appendage. Aziraphale sighed sympathetically, “it’s not going to help if you do it like that.”

“St-heh-stuck,” Crowley managed to say between hitching breaths. It was quite the spectacle: his mouth was ajar, eyebrows knit together, breath hitching, and nose twitching. As sympathetic as Aziraphale was, he also found himself rather attracted to the demon, who seemed entirely helpless as he succumbed to the fit.

“hH-IDZCHUw!-ITSXHHh!”

The double came quickly, bending the demon over into cupped hands.

“heh-hRRSCHHU!”

Crowley was left panting and snuffling into cupped hands, unsure if the fit was truly over.

“You poor thing,” Aziraphale scooted closer to Crowley, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and tucking it into Crowley’s grasp. One of the angel’s hands settled on Crowley’s thigh, an expression of comfort for the sickly demon.

Crowley accepted the handkerchief, cleaning himself up before resting his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“Why don’t you stay here tonight,” Aziraphale prompted, “I can take care of you.”

Crowley hesitated, his instincts told him to go: a demon shouldn’t need to be taken care of. Aziraphale sensed this and quickly corrected, “plus, I could use the company. It would be a favor to me, really.”

Crowley considered this, knowing Aziraphale was just being courteous. After a few seconds, he sighed, “Alright, you win angel. I’ll stay.”

Aziraphale smiled widely, “Splendid. I’ll get us some more tea,” he made to stand, but Crowley wrapped his arms around the angel’s waist, holding him in place.

Aziraphale blushed, “Uhm, Crowley. Would you mind-.”

The demon cuts him off, voice tired and gravely, “Yes, I would.” He tightens his grip around the angel, burying his face in Aziraphale’s neck and letting the fatigue he’d been fighting set in.

“Okay darling,” Aziraphale agreed, settling in and running his fingers through Crowley’s hair.

It didn’t take long for the demon to fall asleep, and eventually, Aziraphale found himself dozing off as well. They stayed curled up on the couch all evening, the angel watching over his sick ‘friend’ carefully.

that’s all for now! i’ll likely write more for the in/effable h/usbands (im more comfortable writing c/rowley as the snzer, but if anyone has prompts with a/ziraphale, i’d be happy to try)

#sneeze kink #sneeze blog #sneezefucker #sneeze scenario #fanfic #snzblr #sneezefic #snz kink #ineffable lovers #crowley #aziraphale

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