Trade with ElementsofGrey! (Black Cat, anime, M)

[SterlingSilver]

Here you are, ElementsofGrey! Hot off the press just for you~!

Hope you like it! Thanks again for trading with me! It’s been nice to write again =w=

Anime: BLACK CAT

Pairing: light Sven/Train care-taking (and Sven "fathering" fluff with Eve)

AN: This takes place after the anime, and will be following the rules of the anime universe.

Also, a small shout-out to Starpollen! Her sneeze-spellings inspire me <3

ALSO. Sorry for the rush ending xD. And typos.

It was deep into the winter months, the days coasting in for the New Years. The winter was biting, sinking its teeth and claws into the supple flesh of those who lived, breathing cool air into their blood. Snow was not of the romantic variety—instead, it was slushy, sloppy, and everywhere. Train had slipped out of his abyss and back into the world of his social circle, promising to spend the New Years with Sven and Eve, who had been hoping that would be the case. There was to be fireworks (naturally), and then a long night at the bar. Woodney, and even Rinslet (who would tug along Jenos), were supposed to come as well.

Because of Eve, Sven had been careful not to overindulge in his alcohol. Much to the amusement of everyone who knew him, Mr. Vollfied took very well to his “father” role. After the events with the Apostles of the Star, and Project Eden, Sven was a vicious advocate of his daughter’s purity and education. While she was not open to the idea of quitting the life they led, he had convinced Eve to take part in a sort of “part-time” school in which she was homeschooled through a series of lessons mailed to her each month. Because she was so thirsty for knowledge of the world through books, she had quickly grown to love literature, and writing about it. School in general, just the idea of it, seemed to please her.

At this moment, Eve was toiling over her algebra at the round, plastic kitchen table, situated just outside the small cooking area in the humble apartment Sven had rented for about a month. Staying in one place was a strange contrast to the ever-moving lifestyle they had experienced as sweepers. Not uncomfortable—just different.

Eve didn’t mind the stability. With things to occupy her mind, she thrived on the atmosphere. It made her think of how real families are. While single fathers were uncommon, they certainly existed, and her little life with Sven was acceptable enough for her. She enjoyed her time with him, their small chats over tea at the table. With time, she had grown to adopt a slightly wider range of emotion: she was able to laugh, to cry, and to express her feelings a little more than before. Sven was proud of her. This made her happy.

Her father himself was smoking by the window, looking out over the small town skyline, leaning against the sill. She smiled at his back as she glanced up from her math, and then smiled at her paper. He was waiting for Train. New Years was midnight tonight, and air was chilled like the inside of an icebox. Sven only had the window cracked to let the smoke drift out, but even then he could feel the almost insensitive cold of the outdoors. Train was probably on his motorcycle, and in this temperature, Shin shuddered to think about what kind of cold that felt like. Worry never crossed his mind, though. To worry about Train was to worry about the child that left for college; something bad might happen eventually, but it couldn’t be helped. No sense in fretting over it.

“Hnphh.” Sven grunted in his throat. “He sure is taking his sweet time.”

“Yes,” Eve said, her voice as melodic and calm as the moment Sven met her. “He likes to do that.”

“Annoying as hell.”

“That too.”

Sven sighed, crushing his cigarette against the ashtray by the window, perched on a small end-table. Train never changed. It was a comforting notion, but also an irritating one. The milk-guzzling, nap-taking, money-mooching bum was the same bum he had always been. Sven smirked. Eve scratched away with her pencil, erasing only occasionally.

Time passed, tea brewed in the pot on the stove, and the day only got colder.

Sven stretched out on the humble, cushy loveseat, trusty hat tipped over his eyes. His breathing deepened into a snore that seemed to grow louder as he aged. Eve found herself smiling and shutting the crack in the window, tossing a blanket across him so he didn’t get chilled. Her homework was not hard, merely time consuming. But at least it passed the time.

So it wasn’t long at all, with Sven on the couch and math in her head, before the door abruptly swung open and broke the silence. Sven’s snore caught in his throat and he snorted, bolting upright as his hat cocked to the side. Eve didn’t glance up as she straightened her books. She only waited for the expected greeting—

“Hey, what’s for dinner?”

And there it was.

“Good evening, Train.”

He was still in the doorway, stepping through as he kicked it closed and shook off any hanging snow from his shoulders and boots. His motorcycle goggles were hanging from his neck like twin pendants, his jacket predictably thin. He was never one to wear the correct clothing for the weather. Chocolaty hair damp from the snow, his golden eyes smiled faster than his mouth did when they landed on Eve.

“Hey, Princess!” He sniffled back wetness in his nose, probably from the change in temperature. “Long time no see.”

“I could say the same to you,” she said, moving to start some of the dinner proceedings. It was only just past lunchtime, but tonight was going to be a feast. Rinslet was supposed to help her cook; the thief was running late.

Sven was up on his feet, giving Train one of those “bro” greetings guys give each other when they want to be affectionate, but not emasculated. Train sniffled again, and again, struggling to keep it inside. They pulled back, and Sven clapped him on the shoulder.

“So, how’s it going?” He was smiling, the small, developing wrinkles around his mouth just noticeable. “Where have you been?”

Using the edge of his thumb and wrist, Train started swabbing beneath his nose, wiping anything extra on his shirt front. “Ah, you know. Here and there; nowhere special.” He started slipping off his goggles and boots, leaving them in a pile of dampness by the door.

Sven was taking notice of the nose rubbing, and recalled the last time Train had sneezed. The bar. The milk. The snot all over Sven’s front. Not the best experience, so he was quick to yank out a handkerchief and thrust it out in a meaningful way, to encourage his friend to accept it.

It was a good thing too, because Sven could see a vacancy clouding Train’s eyes. The man had never been much of a quick sneezer; they always mounted and mounted, then exploded like a geyser of germs. Therefore, they were best executed with a handkerchief in hand.

But of course, Train was never one for manners.

“No, thanks,” he said, rubbing his nose into his shoulder. “I’m good.”

No, you’re not, Sven wanted to say. Train’s eyes were blinking, and then resting half-lidded, waiting patiently for the sensation to come. How the man could just stand there and refuse a hanky right as he was trying to sneeze was beyond Sven. Gentleman did not let such things happen.

Eve called from the kitchen. “Sven, I think we are out of eggs. I’m going to the store to get some.” Her voice broke his stare on Train, who was starting to utter the tell-tale moans of a breeching sneeze.

“Uhh-…”

“No, Eve, I’ll go. I don’t want you out in this weather—”

“..hhuhhhh—…”

“It’s really no trouble. I just have to slip on a coat.”

“But there’s other things you can cook without the eggs, right?”

Train was positively suffering through his sneeze, wringing it out, coaxing it with the most tentative, fluttering of breaths. “Ehhh-huh-hh-hh-hh—…!!”

Sven forced the hanky upon him, able to tell when the climax was coming. Cloth capped over his nose, Train’s eyes folded closed, and he wrenched forward with a head-clearing, “Hehh'nghshuuu!"

It was surprisingly wet, and Sven blinked at the soggy sound. It was anything but healthy. Normal sneezes were never so heavy. The gentleman's eyes narrowed slightly as Train wrestled the handkerchief away from him, tending to his nose with the taming fabric. Eve called a polite blessing from the kitchen as she donned her coat, picking up her purse and headed for the door. Her hair was still very short, cut after the mess with Eden, and she liked to keep it that way. With her hooded, cinched trench coat and little black boots she was quite the pale, pretty picture. Sven admired her for a moment, as if she were part of his own creation, then just sighed and smiled. Let her go. Train sniffled deeply, and then attempted to return the used handkerchief.

"Thanks."

"Whoa!" Sven held his hands up in a cautioning gesture. "That's yours now. No way I want that back until it's properly washed."

Train scowled and tossed the damp rag onto the end table nearby. He didn't want to be bothered with it. Dropping his bags on the floor, he leaned back and stretched, arms above his head. It felt good to be in a heated home. His hands drifted to his hips as he surveyed the place, mildly impressed. It was a nice place.

"Hey, whaddya know," Train said, looking over his shoulder to grin. "For the first time in your life you can afford a place with a bed."

Sven was back at the window, pulling out another cigarette to light, since Train's very presence seemed to call for a stress-reliever. He loved the guy, but had forgotten how much of a annoyance he was sometimes. He cracked the sill, leaving a little area for his smoke to drift out, since Eve didn't like the smell of it. Ever since she had learned about the existence and statistical chances of lung cancer, she became adamant to get him to stop. Or at least to limit everyone's exposure to the poisons. Sven did smoke less, but he snuck in a few extra when she wasn't around.

"Only because you're not eating up all our money anymore."

"Touche, old man."

"Go to hell."

They both stared, and then grinned at one another. They had missed this, and they both acknowledged it. Sven turned back to the window, closing his eyes as he took the smoke into his lungs, feeling the familiar warmth fill him up. Train dropped onto the couch, stretching like a cat would stretch: his arms reached high over his head while his eyes cinched shut. He took a deep breath through his nose, but the sound was stunted and thick. Train felt the rush of thin, heated air tingle against his irritated nasal passages, and he reached up to swipe at his nostrils in order to curtail another sneeze. He had been sneezing since that morning, but hadn’t thought much of it. The sneezes came only occasionally, and it was only when they did come that he was reminded of a slight fatigue behind his eyes. Folding his arms behind his head, one leg propped up in an A-frame, he allowed himself to shiver. His clothes were soaked through from the snow, and it was now, as he lay against the couch, that he felt the water seeping through the fabric.

Sven noticed it too.

“Train, you’re dripping wet.” He sighed out smoke as he said so; his eyes were unimpressed. Train only grinned, not bothering to glance over.

Train didn’t respond at first, eyes still shut, giving him the appearance of napping. Except for the fact that he kept a steady finger see-sawing underneath his fidgety nostrils, both of which were starting to fill up with mucus while he laid at that angle.

“Just damp,” he finally said. His eyelids rose halfway and golden eyes glanced over to Sven’s single brownish one. “All the water crusted over into ice on the way over.”

The fact was not a reassuring one; Sven kept eyeing the cloth of his furniture, silently fretting that he would have to pay to replace it if it got too wet. Already the jerk was costing him—only five minutes in the door.

“Looks like you’re thawing out,” he said as he stubbed out his cigarette and latched the window. “You might want to change before we head out for the night anyway.”

When a moment passed and Train again didn’t respond readily, Sven eyebrows drew in. What he had thought was just a runny nose and a clash of tickly, warm air might not have been so simple. The Black Cat had always been lazy, annoying, and apt to disappear when it was not convenient, but he wasn’t the kind to keep so quiet. Sven had expected him to be chattering away, scarfing down snacks. And here he was, shivering on the couch.

“Hey,” he said, voice a little soft. He reached out, meaning to put a hand on Train’s shoulder. “Are you—?”

“hih-!...Hihgtsth’shuuu!” Train jerked upright a little with the force, abs clenching, a wrist resting under his nose. That one had come without announcement, and left him in want of another. “Huhh’gitschuuu!!” The second one was harder, more insistent. The tickle fled his nose as abruptly as it had come. Train blinked stuffily. He didn’t pull his wrist from his face, since he could feel the warm thickness resting against his skin, ready to slip out of his nose the moment he pulled away. He wished, briefly, that he had hung onto Sven’s handkerchief.

With the intuition that came from adopting a “father” role, and the fact that it was obvious, Sven reached over for the forgotten handkerchief and handed it to his friend. He politely moved away afterwards, padding in socks towards the kitchen.

“There’s towels in the pantry beside the bathroom door,” he said. “And if you want hot water, you have to turn it to the ‘cool’ side. The shower’s kind of screwy.”

Train swiveled on the couch, now hunching over his knees as he pinned the white swatch to his nose, seizing up while he blew against it. He was grateful for the unspoken understanding—that Sven was giving him a cop-out without drawing attention to any budding weaknesses. The sweepers didn’t like to draw attention to their injuries, their illnesses. Busy with life, busy with bandits, they didn’t give time to such things.

It was nice to see that they both still didn’t. It made Train comfortable.

Plus he wanted a hot shower.

Train hefted himself off the couch, his pants clinging to his thighs as he slogged towards the bathroom. Sven heard the door close as he stood at the stove, heating water. Even though they would have a mountain of food that night for New Years, recent evidence suggested Train wouldn’t make it past midnight before slipping into a congested sleep. Eve did not get sick really, since she wasn’t like normal young women, but having a small family and simply living as a man his age had taught him what colds looked like. They weren’t hard to spot, especially in people he knew well. He had seen Train injured, seen Train sad, but had never seen him sick. Judging by the way he handled everything else, Mr. Heartnet wouldn’t be taking it very seriously.

And as Sven stirred the pot, the noodles, and let it idle, Train stood under hot water and let it sluice down from the top of his head down to the soles of his feet. He shuddered from the heat, body slightly shocked but delighted. His surface was hot; his core was cold. It would take a moment to reach equilibrium. It took a few minutes for the steam to build and once it began fogging the mirror, it started teasing him.

It was thick. Made him breath heavy. He had to take in more air in order to get an adequate amount. It gave the atmosphere a sluggish feeling, so it felt like he was moving through honey. Tipping his head back as he smoothed his hair from his face, he felt the gentlest, feather-light touch of a tickle at the rear of his left nostril. His eyebrows quirked slightly, his lips parting to let gleam a sliver of front teeth. Eager to sneeze, and finish sneezing while away from the others, he didn’t rub his nose to drive it away. He was never one to dissuade a sneeze anyway, preferring to let everything take its course. Sneezes were too small to worry about, in his eyes.

But it was a coy one.

It refused to budge, caught fluttering in the bridge, insistent but too weak to coax out. He huffed once, twice, through his nose in an effort to encourage the sensation. It gave a slow, inching roll across his sinuses, making his eyes water, his breath catch in his stomach. He panted, bracing a hand against the tile wall of the shower as he endured a staggered inhale. His head tipped back, nostrils dilated and prepared.

“Ehh..hhh…hihh-…h-h-h-!..” He froze, right on the cusp, and frustrated about it. A single sniffle to fan the flames of his tickle. The sound was wet and warm. A second time, eyes slitting open. Then slamming closed as he double over with a mighty, “HIGGI’TSSHUUUU!”

It tore at his throat, but it felt like heaven. Thank goodness he wasn’t yet finished-

“Ehh’niigtshuuu!..” A beat, a breath. “Iiihh’gshuuu!!” The pitch of his voice was getting higher—more desperate—as he worked through the furious itch. It was practically vibrating against the sides of his nose, expanding. Never had he needed to sneeze so much, so badly. This cold, or whatever it was, couldn’t be more biting. He leaned his back against the cool wall, the temperature making him gasp, preparing for another sneeze.

“Train?”

The sound of Sven’s voice stalled the tickle, and Train’s eyes flew open. He didn’t know what the Sweeper wanted, but thought briefly that he could have picked a better time for a chat.

“H-huhh-?..” The sneezy catch to his tone was unmistakable. Sven stood on the other end of the door, then moved to lean against it, smirking a bit.

“I was thinking..”

“h-h-hh..Were y-yuhhHUH’mmffgshhh!”

The messiness of that one was audible, and Train was grateful he was in a shower, as opposed to a dinner table or something. Sven paused for a moment, and then continued. His voice was muffled through the wood of the door.

“Maybe you should stay here during the fireworks show tonight.”

Train, who was massaging the sides of his nose with his fingers, sniffling deep, blinked. The tickle would have diminished by now, if he had blown his nose. But he had no tissues, and couldn’t use any (more disgusting) alternative with Sven standing right there listening to him. So he kept snortling back the tide, wincing at the stabbing, tingly sensations it spread through the back of his nose.

“Ah, cumb ond,” he said, sighing at his stuffy voice. Fisting his hands and puffing out his chest, he took in a mammoth sniffle and then instantly regretted it-

“EHHH’NXTTSSHHH!!”

Despite the barrier between them, Sven actually backed up at that one. The volume had surprised him, and it had sounded like something clogged had suddenly and violently been unclogged. He made up his mind right then and there.

“You’re staying here.”

Nose now clear, Train called out to his friend, voice irritated and a bit gruff from a rising sore throat. “You can’t just decide what I do, you know.” He went back to his shower, washing his face with soapy hands. “Princess looks forward to stuff like this. I ain’t going to let her down.”

“You’re sick, Train,” Sven said, scowling at the door. “She’ll understand.”

Train paused for a moment. He had been passive before because they were sort of letting the obvious go unmentioned. But now that Sven said so-…

“Am not.”

“Train, don’t be a kid about it. Act like an adult for once, please?”

“Adults can make their own decisions.”

“Not when they’re too stupid to make the right one.”

“The reason I’m sneezing, you know, is from your damn 'color restoring' shampoo, Grandpa. Got some grey you need to take care of?”

Sven’s eye widened, and he pointed a threatening finger at the bathroom. “Now wait a minute! I do not use stuff like that. I’m in my prime.”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night.”

Train grinned as the other man made a disgusted noise and retreated. Success. If Sven was going to be an ass about it, Train would go. Train would go out to the fireworks show. He was planning on it anyway, cold or no cold, for Princess. Fireworks had a special meaning for her; they did for him too. Not as much of a happy one, really, but he liked to honor Saya’s memory by doing things they used to do together. Things they wanted to do together, one day. He would forever be a Sweeper for her, because of her. He sighed deeply, shutting off the shower, and stepping out onto the chilly tile. Shuddering and groping for a towel, he made a face when he realized he would have ask Sven for a heavy coat. The one Train brought was too thin.

He slipped out of the bathroom in a towel, not shy around his friends, and made a bee-line for Sven’s room. He had forgotten extra clothes, and knew Sven wouldn’t mind if he borrowed something. Even if he did mind, Train was borrowing anyway. Eve had returned and was in the kitchen, Sven hovering around her as she played with the stove. She kept swatting at him, and Sven kept insistently smiling, not wanting her to get burned or something.

Train flung open Sven’s closet, still shivering. He on a towel and his own underwear, and that was it. He knew the apartment was fairly warm, but he felt like his skin was rubber-wrapped with thin sheets of ice. The hair on his back and shoulders kept prickling, goose-bumps rising. He groaned at Sven’s wardrobe.

“Seriously?”

Suits. So many suits. Hardly one casual piece of clothing in it. Train rifled through the hangers, shaking a bit, jerky in his actions. He struck gold at the back—a single hoodie from some Japanese university or another, crammed behind all the formalwear. He dove for it, wrenched it from the closet, and pulled it over himself. It was chilly at first, and smelled musty, but it wasn’t long before the inside started warming up. After a bit of digging through drawers, he found some sweatpants too. Even some thick socks. Now clothed and happily clean, Train shuffled out into living room.

Eve had kicked Sven out of the kitchen, so he was sitting on the couch. He glanced over at Train, then did a double take, leaping up from the couch.

“Hey!”

Train put his hands on his hips, the cuffs of the overly large hoodie hanging over his fingers. He looked younger in the big clothes, and Sven stalled for a moment before pursing the matter.

“Those are my clothes.”

“I know,” Train sniffled, then swiped the arm of Sven’s hoodie under his nose. Sven tensed up, looking as though he might explode, and then just decided to fume instead. He slammed himself back down on the cushions, sighing. If Train was going to deny illness and then germ up the entire house, then fine. FINE.

Train plopped down next to him, grinning a little. “Aw, lighten up.” He elbowed Sven a bit, who scooted away from him just slightly. Train frowned, and then crossed his arms, putting his sock clad feet up on the coffee table.

“All right, then. Be grumpy. Ruin New Years.”

Sven stood abruptly and moved past Train, shoving his feet off the table in the process. Train glared and put them back up after Sven had passed, and Sven had to resist commenting. Obviously, the gentleman had underestimated the Cat. He acted like a giant, annoying child. More than usual, anyway. And if that was the case, Sven would treat him like one. After ducking in and out of the kitchen, Sven thrust a bowl of hot, steaming ramen in Train’s face. The Train in question, who had been watching the grainy television, blinked over the steam. Then wrinkled his nose. Not out of distaste, though. The steam was ticklish.

“What’s-”

“Your dinner.”

“…I don’t get anything el-?”

“Eat the damn noodles, Train.”

Train took the bowl from him, trying to snatch without slopping it on himself. After grumbling a thanks, he started slurping, and then continued with more vigor. It was seasoned well, and very warm in his cold body, so he was glad for it. Sven watched him for a moment, and then perked up when there was a rap on the door. It opened soon afterwards to reveal a stunning, winter-clad Rinslet and a snowy Jenos beside her. Both, honestly, were good looking people—so when they were together, hanging off each other’s arms, they were radiant.

Sven stood to greet them, hugging Rinslet chastely and then shaking hands with Jenos. They both seemed to be in good spirits, if not just chilly.

“Wow, Sven,” Rinslet said, hands on her hips. “This is a nice place.”

“Don’t go stealing any of my fancy new silverware.”

Rinslet gave him a glaring grin, swiveling her torso to face him. “Oooooh, plastic. Don’t tempt me.”

“Don’t worry, my friend,” Jenos said as he hung up his coat, fishing a smirk from the corner of his mouth. “With me here, her hands will be full.”

Rinslet snorted in derision, but it was only meant to joke. Eve promptly slipped out of the kitchen and the girls embraced, Rinslet bending a little to take Eve by the arms.

“You’re getting so tall! And your hair looks fantastic.”

“Thank you. I like it this length.”

Jenos reached over to kiss her hand, but Eve coolly evaded. Ever since their first encounter, she was shifty with him. First impressions last. Train was still on the couch, as far as he knew, going unnoticed. And that was fine with him. He was never one for teary reunions or goodbyes anyway. He would be happy to just continue to sit there, slouched on the cushions, a fixture in the room—… But his nose had other ideas.

Whether from the steam or just a random whim, an urge came upon him. It was deep. And it was fierce. He only had just enough time to flinch forward and sit down his bowl, before cupping his hands over his nose and mouth, crunching inward with a head-clearing, “Ehh’higshhuuu!”

It was pulled from him, yanked out of his nose, and he had underestimated the amount of congestion he had been harboring prior to the sneeze. For the first time since he was little, he felt his cheeks color, fleshing a soft pink. His golden eyes darted to the side, to all the faces now looking his way. It was a split second before the room started moving again.

“Train!” It was Jenos who spoke first, coming over the clap him on the shoulder. Train was surprised at the soft pain when he did that. How long ago did his body start to ache?

“Didn’t see you there. That was a pretty big sneeze,” the ex-Chronos member said, peering down a bit at the younger man’s face. “You feeling okay?”

“He’s sick.” It wasn’t Sven who said it, but Eve. Train gave her a slight scowl with his eyes, since the rest of his face was covered. Eve met his gaze. She had taken care of him when he was hurt, looked after him in his altered form. Perhaps it was she who was most qualified to speak on his health. He challenged it anyway.

“Why does everyoned keep sayi’g thad?” He closed his eyes at his stuffy voice. Geez, he needed another tissue. Much to his humiliation, Rinslet strutted over in her tall boots and sweater, and handed him a travel pack she kept in her purse.

“Well, you are dressed in sweats, eating soup, and talking like you have corks of up your nose,” she said.

He sneered at her over his tissue as he rubbed at his nose. The friction fanned the prickling fire in his nose. “Iiih’gixtshuuu!”

“And doing that.”

As much as it irked him, it was true. His image didn’t bode well for his credibility. He hunched over, feeling inexplicably embarrassed as he gurgled a hearty blow into the white, cottony paper. When everyone seemed to just watch him do this, he snapped at them.

“What? Someone wanna take a peek at my snot?”

That encouraged them to divert their gazes.

To Train, the night dragged. Dragged through chilly, foggy pulses of time. He wasn’t a guy who got sick often. When he did, they were usually mild. He felt weak and out of shape, curled up on the couch, subconsciously tightening himself and then wearily accepting a blanket when someone offered it to him. Most of him denied that he was sick, and he encouraged himself to think of it like a test, or just a passing trial. But the longer he endured, the more he wanted to give up.

It wasn’t long after Rinslet and Jenos arrived that news reached them of Woodney. Apparently he couldn’t make it, caught up with some of the other gang members from the old days. No one minded so much. Especially not Train. The thought of Woodney’s annoying, unrelenting falsetto in his ear made his head want to split. His sinuses had filled up to the brim, giving him a throbbing headache, and a constantly running nose. So runny so often, that he found himself sneezing on a frustratingly often basis. His rushed singles had given way to slow-production mess-fests that he had to smother in tissues. At this point, he had exhausted the travel pack. But much to everyone’s appreciation and surprise, Eve had purchased a bulk pack of tissues while at the store. It was as though she knew.

Currently, Train was putting them to good use. Sven had stealthily positioned a garbage can near the couch, and Train didn’t question it. He had it half full already with the used balls, and was working on getting it to the brim. At the moment, everyone was standing around in the kitchen to finish preparations and move the food out into the living room. Train watched them, using one elbow to lift his body up as he rubbed at his nose with a tissue. After some observation, he decided he didn’t want to eat anything. He hadn’t even finished his soup. His appetite was devastated, obliterated, and with a crawling realization, he knew he didn’t want to be the reason for their loss of appetite. Sick Guy on Couch wasn’t exactly the best addition to a dining room, with germs in the air and food on the table.

He turned away from the kitchen, and into the couch a little, when he felt his nose squirm with another tickle. “Damn..” He muttered the word, twitching his agonized appendage from side to side, feeling the tingle spider down into the sensitive depths of his nostrils. Breath catching, he lifted the tissues to his face. Then, nothing. He huffed, frustrated. He would rather have it take him now than sneak up on him later. He gave some sniffs, testing the sensation, expression slacking as the tickle surged forward.

“Ehuehh-…” The sound was sneezy and expectant, anticipating the action. Though still, the fullness would not come to him. Turning onto his back, he felt it back off a bit again, slipping back towards his throat. Train tucked a fist under his nostrils, gently rubbing them there, chuffing against his skin when he felt the tingling return. His chest expanded, rising, head tipping back into the cushion.

“Heah-!...heh-.. hh-! hh-!..”

It got so close, hovered, then drifted back into his sinuses and itched him. Growling, he sat up a bit. He refused to let it get away. It had teased him long enough, so that now he would have to sneeze. Sneeze, or go mad. He sniffled again and again, trying to trigger it, but it seemed to dodge his attempts each time. By now his nose was running, and he groaned as he snatched a few tissues to blow into. Even after laying him so low, he wasn't even going to be allowed to sneeze? Unfair! As soon as his nose was empty, more snot trickled down his sinuses, and it finally gave the sneeze the last push it needed. Gasping as though he'd been doused with cold water, Train wrenched forward.

"NNKGIHSHshahh!!... Nn’EHHGhtsh!!.. heaii-.. HEIZZN'GISCHHTUU!"

Oh, it felt so good to have those out of him and in the air. Even yet he wasn't done, and he kept his eyes closed as the urge verged on him.

"..nyuuhh-..hyyuhh..HAIGISHHSHUU!.. GISZXSHH! Hiih-GISHZshhh!....HHH~!"

He gave one last snatch of air, and finished with a booming, "NYKXTTGSHHH-UU!"

All the chatter in the kitchen paused to listen to Train blow his nose, snuffle, moan softly, and then collapse back onto the couch. After all exchanging glances, it didn't take long for them to come to a unanimous decision.

Instead of fireworks out in the cold winter air, they settled for television instead. The fireworks got recorded and streamed from all over the world, after all. Granted, Sven's TV was a bit dated and had occasional static, but it got the job done. Rinslet and Jenos curled up together on the floor by the table, feeding one another tonkastu strips. Sven reclined in his easy chair with a plate of rice and steamed veggies, and Eve took the couch with Train, letting him rest his feet in her lap as he dozed off to the sound of their voices, and the quiet classical music and snapping booms, the volume turned down a little so he could sleep.

/The end~!

[SapphireSong]

OMGOSH Blackscatter I think you just killed me with AWESOME!!! heehee no seriously that was freaking brilliant. One of the most epically descriptive and delightful pieces I have ever read~! I'm almost halfway through the anime right now, but this played out in my head just like an episode, not even kidding. XDD Great, great job!!! Train Heartnet = lol and you wrote him perfectly!! GAHH and sick!Train is just... asdklfjf;asdlfjk :3 I loved this so much!!!

I think I can safely say that Elements is gonna FLIP. This is pure win

P.S. I'm sooo happy that you did this!! I've missed reading your work <3

[SterlingSilver]

@ Smiley~

AWWWWW! QwQ *huggle* THANK YOU SO MUCH~! I'm really glad you like it! I love the anime, and Train, so I was like "MUST WRITE THIS FOR HER~" xDDD. I hope she likes it too >w>~!

I ADORE your writing as well, so it means a lot to me that you liked it! I look forward to reading EVERYTHING you write <3 <3 <3 AND I LOVE YOUR LEMON QUOTE SIGNITURE OMGOSH <3 <3 <3 xDDDD

[Akahana]

AAAWWWWWWA!!!!! Train!! And Sven is such a sweetheart when he wants to be~ <33333

[Ciuty80]

OhMyGawd that was AWESOME!!!!

thank you for this!!!!!! :drool:

[EmeraldThread]

LSKDJFLSDJFKDS!!!!!! I LOVE IT!!!!! AND I LOVE YOU!!!

I can't believe it! I wasn't expecting to come back to this when I got home today!!

His sneezes are BEAUTIFUL, and those buildups and it's TRAIN. I love the scenario, too, of him being like "Hey, I'm back, definitely *not* sick" and then having to give in to it. For some reason, the idea of him falling asleep on the couch in comfy clothes and wrapped in a blanket is just so darn CUTE. There were so many points that I smiled to myself while I read this that I can't even pick out specific points - Train and Sven's exchanges were so perfect, and you kept everyone so well in character, it was awesome~!

Thank you SO much for writing this, it's fantastic!!!

[Vongola Undicesimo]

Ever since he sneezed in that one episode, I've just wanted more. Train's like my all-time favorite anime guy. I cannot express in anything my absolute graditude.