Boxing Day

"Better now?" Wesley gingerly picked up a handful of damp, used tissues and cast them into the waste bin next to the bed. An expectant look on his face, he watched Giles wipe his nose into yet another tissue.

"Ahh," Giles sighed, nodded his head slightly; "oh, oh, no," he shook his head, turning the sigh into a soft, sudden intake of breath. Before he could grab a new tissue from the box, a huge, wet 'hetsssSCHOOssh!' burst out that Giles did his best to aim down at the comforter over his lap instead of at Wesley. He struggled for a minute with a tickle that made his nostrils redden and tremble, his breath now coming in short, coaxing pants. The itch was near unbearable, filling his nose and sinuses and even making the back of his throat tickle. It did, however, give Giles enough time to pull a couple tissues from the box and hold them at the ready for when the sneeze did come. After what felt like the longest minute since he had caught this vile cold, Giles' nose twitched and he pitched forward. "hrrusshHushshSHOO, hr'USSHOO! uh... huh! h'RUSSHOO!" He sneezed strongly into the tissues, following it up with a heavy nose blow, trying to force the stuffy, tickly sensation from his nose. "Eguze, ugh..." Giles blew his nose again, cleared his throat, and then tried talking. "Excuse me, oh god... I don't how you're putting up with all this."

"Oh, I don't know... it's not so bad." Another handful of balled-up tissues fell into the waste bin and Wesley slid his hand up Giles' back. "Rather like a nice winter evening at home with a mucus demon."

Giles tried glaring at Wesley, but the hand that moved up to the back of neck was warm and strong enough to distract him. "I ought to send you back to Los Angeles," he muttered, easing into the massage.

"You can try. I'm not sure you'll be able to in your debilitated state, after having spent the past few days tramping through cemeteries." Wesley's other hand loosened the buttons on the front of Giles' pajama top, allowing him rub Giles' neck better. "It's no wonder you're sneezing your way through Boxing Day."

"Insufferable prat," Giles murmured. He sniffled wetly and pressed his nose to the back of his hand.

"Stubborn fool." Wesley's fingers were soft, even gentle, as they stroked the hair at the nape of Giles' neck.

Prepared with a retort, Giles turned to Wesley. "And theehh... hehihh, yehh... yeisssh! Isssh! eiiiSHOO!" Taken aback by the sudden, wet sneezes, Giles blinked and sniffled. Inhaling through his full nose tickled, but only enough to make him want to scrub it into a tissue and snuffle thickly. A steady hand pressed to his back and handful of clean, dry tissues to his hand. "Thank you..." Offering Wesley a grateful smile, Giles rested his head on his lover's shoulder.

Wesley returned the smile and hugged Giles in close. "You're always welcome, Rupert."