Wolf to the Fold - (Fables, M)

[Garnet]

Fables canon is a miserable, heartwrenching experience and I have a lot of feelings that need to be salved with all the fluff Bill Willingham isn't giving me. This is a continuation of one of my drabbles, Worried, but it got unnecessarily long and sappy so I'm sticking it in its own topic and launching it into space. At least until I get restless enough to continue it on the adult board.

I dunno. Werewolf families, guys.

Slight language warning for Bigby's filthy mouth, but that's about it.

------

She'd hoped the cubs would take easily enough to the idea of entertaining themselves for the day, as they had so many days before. Slinking low among the grasses, stalking grasshoppers and voles, or shrieking and skirling through the treetops, more forces of nature than her own sweet, soft children.

Unfortunately, a slow, grey drizzle outside had them milling around her feet shortly after breakfast, voices pitching towards whines.

"I'm bored," Dare groaned, leaning into her hip as if it was the only thing in the world that kept him from collapsing into a boneless pile of ennui at her feet. Snow ignored his dramatics resolutely.

"Go play outside, then, just stay out of the mud."

"The mud's the best part," he muffled into her shirt. She rumpled his hair with one hand until he scowled and pulled away to fix it.

"Is Dad back?" Winter was draped over an arm of the sofa, arms limp. Snow sighed through her nose.

The cubs had all been sacked out, dead to the world in the flickering blue glow of the television when they'd returned last night. Bigby might normally have grumbled in disapproval, but just this once he seemed appreciative of cable's mind-numbing qualities as he disappeared upstairs. She was a little surprised that they managed to sleep through the night, after being herded to bed. It was more than she could say for herself, having spent the night with a sick and restless wolf who seemed determined to shake the bed apart each time he sneezed. She would have been annoyed if she hadn't felt so bad for him, scourged by ebb and flow of a fever until nearly dawn, when exhaustion won out.

For him, anyway. There were hungry mouths to feed, and Snow had pulled all-nighters on so many occasions, even before the kids, that she was no longer fazed.

Just like old times.

"He's sick, you don't need to hunt with him today," she said, opting for the most direct answer. As if on cue, the walls seemed to tremble as an enormous, muffled, "HUH'RHFFFH!" erupted from the general direction of the master bedroom. The cubs stared at her, vibrating at the novelty of Bigby feeling under the weather. She had to practically dive for the stairs to head off the excited scramble. "Ah-ah! He was up all night, don't even think about going in that bedroom."

"We'll be quiet!"

"You literally don't know the meaning of the word," Snow huffed in amusement. It wasn't quite true, but neither did she trust the fanatical pack not to harass the shit out of their father at any given opportunity. She swooped down to scoop up Blossom, who seemed the most intent on squirming past her legs. "Don't think so."

"Mom!" She kicked in her grasp, wriggling herself until she had more fur than hair.

Thinking quickly, she shooed the pack towards the door. "Come on, you want to help Daddy feel better? I've got a special job for you."

------

Bigby felt more comatose than he did rested: short periods of vague lucidity broken by long, uncomfortable stretches of time that seemed gone from his memory like blackouts. He could apparently still be roused for his cubs, though, because it took only a little prodding from eager fingertips to stir him from the deepest, ugly depths of sicksleep.

Blossom had excavated his arm from beneath the covers, and had her tiny hands wrapped around his wrist, tugging insistently. He cracked a bleary look at her, trying to work out whether she was a fever dream or not.

"Dad. Dad. Daaaad." He closed his eyes, prepared to ignore her, then grimaced when she licked a wet stripe up his arm. "Daddy!"

Nope, definitely real. He withdrew his arm with a noise of muddled annoyance and rolled over. He sighed to feel the mattress dip and bounce a moment later, however, as Blossom launched herself up onto the bed, now on all fours. Bigby pushed her insistent russet snout away with a groan.

"What," he barked roughly. "What is it?"

Her ears folded at once and she lay down with her head between her paws. "Are you mad?"

Ugh, he was such a fucking sap, falling for those puppy eyes every single time.

Bigby passed a hand over his face wearily, tried to resist the tingle behind his eyes and in the inflamed channels of his sinuses. He pinched a thumb and forefinger over the bridge of his nose before his breath began to hitch, scrunching tight until the immediate, quivery threat of a sneeze had subsided a bit. Blossom was staring at him mournfully.

"I'm not mad, kiddo, I just don't feel good. And you shouldn't be in here."

"Why?"

"Cause I don't want you to catch this."

"I don't care," she said defiantly, snuffling into the covers as she inched herself closer. Bigby blocked her with a knee pressed gently into her side.

"I care. Go play with the others."

She tilted her head and opened her eyes just a little wider to show the crescent whites underneath, her whole expression sad and forlorn. A soft whine pitched in her throat. Fuck fuck fuck.

"I don't wanna play, I wanna stay with you. I'll be real quiet."

Bigby groaned and buried his face in the pillow. Blossom, needing no further permission, scooted up close to his side and tucked her nose under his ribs with a happy sigh. He gave in, because he was a spineless jellyfish and not a proper wolf at all, and let her stay.

The fuzzy red digits of the alarm clock registered as nearly half an hour later, when he felt the second needling intrusion into his subconscious. Bigby blinked through a haze of confusion and filmy eyes at Ambrose, who stood looking at him with tears threatening in his own.

"S'the matter?" He slurred, as Blossom rolled over and stretched her legs without waking.

"Are you really sick?"

Bigby ground the heel of a palm into his eye until he saw stars out of one side. His nose felt like it was going to trickle over any moment, and yet he couldn't get a single squeak of air in through it. "Yeah, I'm really sick."

"Are you gonna die?" Ambrose croaked with obvious dismay, which earned a groan.

"I will if you little hoodlums keep waking me up." Ambrose looked so stricken and upset that Bigby caved and reached out to haul him into a guilty, awkward hug before he broke out the waterworks. "Jeez, I'm kidding, I'm kidding. I'm not gonna die. C'mon, get up here."

Snow was right, he supposed. If they were going to get it, they were going to get it, regardless of how long their exposure time was.

Blossom showed her teeth as the chubby pup joined them at the bed, so Ambrose hastily took up real estate at its foot, and lay down on Bigby's legs. The weight felt oddly soothing, and he dropped off again, though he felt like he'd barely passed the edge of consciousness before the next cub made her presence known.

"Daddy?"

He sighed.

Winter was touching her cheek against his arm. He didn't even bother opening his eyes this time as he shifted his palm to stroke her hair, which registered as just slightly damp. She leaned into his hand.

"Do you wanna borrow Fang? He makes me feel better when I'm sick."

He squinted until the image of her battered, limp-necked toy rabbit clarified in his watery vision. He sniffled softly, and wondered how his life had gone from devouring people in one bloody, screaming mouthful to getting all syrupy over his daughter being cute.

"Thanks, scarecrow, but you'd better hang on to him. He might get lonely without you."

Winter accepted this diplomatic answer with a nod and hugged the stuffed animal to her, though she lingered sullenly near the bedside, eyes on the floor as she played with the edge of the rabbit's paw. Bigby's throat and head ached, pulsing out of sync so that everything was a constant, dull throb of pain. But realistically, he didn't stand a fucking chance against the cub who looked the most like a tinier, shyer spitting image of Snow.

"Did... you want to...?"

He didn't even get to finish his sentence before Winter scrambled up and over him. There was a soft shuffling and grumbling as Blossom rearranged herself to make room, and Ambrose shushed them both, but peace settled soon enough.

Therese and Connor crept in before he'd quite passed out again, but while he was still too tired to argue. Fuck it, this was his fate now. A lean black wolf settled draped across his legs next to his brother, while Therese stayed in the skin, and squirmed into one of the few spots left available, in between his arms. Bigby sighed and adjusted for her. It was fine for a few beats, until she pressed a little higher to wrap her arms around his neck, and the wispy softness of her hair feathered across his nose.

His breath snagged in a curling, wild inhale that made the curtains flutter before he could stop himself. He managed to extract a hand from the blankets and bodies and crushed his knuckles cruelly to the quiver of his nostrils, suddenly needing to sneeze so badly he could barely see straight.

"Hh... hhh...hhh!"

Just the idea of stifling made his sinuses twinge with sympathy, but he had cubs on every side, and catching them in the crossfire was completely unacceptable. He'd let his own head explode first.

Fortunately, the ruthless press of his hand against his septum, nearly hard enough to break the cartilage, was curtailing the urge from coming to fruition. Slowly, slowly, the spasming tingle subsided, until he could blink back tears and let out a shaky breath. It was the most unsatisfying feeling in the world. He'd feel the back of his nose prickling with a funny itch he couldn't quite scratch or sneeze out for a while yet, but better than the alternative. He gave his head a bleary shake, swallowed, and readjusted Therese.

"Not so close, baby, s'making my nose tickle."

"Sorry," she peeped, and hugged him around the middle fondly enough that he couldn't even really be annoyed.

"Whoa," Connor murmured from the foot of the bed, eyes round but unafraid. "That was gonna be huge."

He wasn't wrong. Bigby worked a thumb and forefinger at his nose for a while, chasing the lingering irritation back as deep as it would go. He coughed into a palm, though even that was enough to make the bed tremble.

"Probably. You lot are gonna end up across the valley if I'm not careful." He expected it to give them some pause, and maybe even discourage a few but no, of course it didn't. If anything, the cubs wormed their way closer, as if bracing themselves down snug against him. It took him a few moments to identify the weak feeling in his chest as the same confused pleasure when Snow had hugged him, after felling more trees than he wanted to admit. It felt strange to be loved even when his strengths turned to faults.

Dare poked his head in last, his fur a little damp around the edges as if he'd been romping through the rain.

"Why'd you all -- hey!" He protested, evidently indignant about the impromptu sleepover going on without him.

His most assertive son didn't so much ask permission or even invite himself up, he just jumped into the dogpile and bullied out a place for himself with a few growls and nips. Bigby was either aggravated or proud, though the spectrum quickly shifted as the snap of jaws turned to scuffles and vocalizations that were half play and half squabble.

"Knock it off," Bigby growled. At least the sore throat had made his voice a little deeper, even more menacing than usual as the cubs immediately settled, cowed. "No fighting, no talking. If you're gonna be up here, go the fuck to sleep."

They were smart enough not to have a response to this beyond putting their heads down, but Dare gave his wrist a few supplicating licks and fixed him with worried, apologetic eyes until Bigby scratched him affectionately behind the ears. Little monster.

He paused, blinking, and drew his hand back when he encountered the sticky down of a game bird still caught in his son's fur. "What did you kill?" He wondered, violating his own rules.

"A pheasant!" Dare proclaimed proudly. "It tried to fly away, but it didn't know I could fly too. I chased it all the way to where some big trees fell."

"We all helped!" Connor protested hotly. "Wasn't just you."

"Oh, lord," Bigby groaned. "Tell me you didn't leave it somewhere for your mother to find."

"Nuh-uh, she asked us to get it!"

"Shh! It's a surprise!"

Too confused and exhausted to make heads or tails of that, Bigby shushed them again, then surveyed the pack with groggy satisfaction as they settled. Ghost had probably slipped in at some point, too, but if so, he kept quiet and still. Soon enough, even the six corporeal bodies would be too big to get away with piling into bed like this. They already seemed a little stronger, a little longer in the leg and tooth every day. Paws and hands and tails poked off the edge of the bed at awkward angles. He should probably enjoy this while it lasted.

Sentiment aside, he was grateful for the heat of so many bodies, as a bone-deep shiver wracked through him, suggesting another spike in fever. His last thought was another single, regretful pang of guilt that any of them might end up mired in the same misery, before unconsciousness claimed him.

He had no concept of how long he was out, that time, but he awoke consumed by the immediate urge to sneeze. With no earthly idea to where the last handkerchief had disappeared, and no free side to turn to, he snatched a bare hand to his face. There was no fighting this one off, it must have been building for ages while he was asleep. He could only block the pull of the long, shivering inhale against his palm, and crush his nose tightly shut for the fall-out.

"--HH-KNXHT!!"

Pain detonated behind his eyes, hot and red and not even a tiny bit relieving to the sting in his sinuses. If anything, it worsened the impulse.

"--KNSSCH! --KNXSHH!"

Bigby jack-knifed miserably with the contained force, sensing cubs stir and fuss as the mattress shook. He couldn't do a damned thing to keep from waking them; not knocking any through the nearest wall was the best success he could currently hope for.

"Hhh... hhh!" While he was fighting the self-perpetuating urge, one or two of the cubs vacated the bed. Good. Or... not good, he couldn't decide. He couldn't process much beyond the grimacing desire to keep sneezing and... "Hhh! -KNXT!" Ugh, sneezing.

Fuck everything about this cold.

Blearily, he caught the sound of a dresser drawer rattling open and closed, and the collateral breeze that always accompanied the cubs when they decided to eschew gravity. Suspended in the hang time of waiting for the next sneeze, with a hand hovering at the ready, Bigby felt Therese climb back up beside him. He blinked tearfully.

"Here," she said, tucking something soft and dry into his free hand. He registered the texture of spellweave under his touch, and nearly groaned. Bless her tiny heart.

"Thanks, lemon pie," he croaked, an instant before the delicate prickling became ruthless. He folded himself into both hands for the impact.

"HUH-WRHFFFHHHhh!" The bed lurched with a threatening creak, while the cubs laid low to the covers. Just in case. Fortunately, the first sneeze cleared most of the tickle from his nose in one violent rush, leaving just enough left to hitch towards with wavering breaths.

"Hh-hh-hhh...! Huh-RHHFFHHssshh!"

It was an eruption of pure relief, even if it left an aching head and chest afterward. Bigby chased it with a lengthy blow that eased some of the throbbing pressure in his head, then collapsed back to the mattress with a groan. He felt like melted ice cream dripped on the sidewalk, lukewarm and runny -- not much good for anything or anyone.

"Fucking hell," he rasped, too tired to mind his tongue. He swallowed a moment later to discover small arms threading around him, and the press of damp noses against his side. The little ruffians actually wanted to be closer to him.

"Gesundheit, Daddy," Winter bid, with the kind of easy pronunciation that had likely come from listening to he and Snow speak to each other in their common tongue. A murmur of sleepy echoes and approximations followed, overlapping into a sound of general familial fondness. The slurry chorus put an odd heat behind his eyes that he suspected had little to do with the fever or the cold.

"Thanks," he managed, after a beat to compose himself. "I think you troublemakers are making me feel a little better."

Amid the covers, tails perked and wagged, eyes gleamed. Bigby sighed. He was a weak, weak man when it came to his children, and he didn't care a whit what anyone else thought of it.

------

Where some mothers had a sixth sense alerting them to their babies in danger, Snow had also developed one for when her kids were being little shits. It was far too quiet in the manor, excepting the thunderous wrench of Bigby's sneeze a while ago. Usually there was at least one of them orbiting her in the kitchen, begging for scraps or being drafted into peeling and cutting. She couldn't even hear the murmur of voices or drone of a television, now. Drying her hands on a towel, she checked that the pheasant stew had another couple hours to simmer in the crock, then picked her way warily upstairs. She didn't even bother to check the cubs' rooms first, knowing with inherent exasperation where they had gravitated.

Upon cracking their own bedroom door open, she still groaned quietly at the sight that met her.

"You little brats," she whispered.

She could barely see the covers for the patchwork of wolf and child sprawled across it, Bigby trapped somewhere among them and apparently dead to the world. Darien had a paw in his unconscious hand. She very nearly had to sit down right there on the floor at the debilitating wave of cute. The cubs picked their heads up guiltily, however, ears tilting back or knees scrunching up.

"We're helping!" Blossom defended sharply, despite Snow's frantic shushing motions.

"Dad said it was okay!"

He stirred at the volume of their voices and came awake with a shredded, painful-sounding cough smothered into the crook of an arm. Snow slipped into the room, an avatar of endeared frustration.

"I told you all to clean up and dry off an hour ago."

"We did!"

"I didn't!"

"Hey," Bigby growled when his coughing had subsided. His voice sounded prickled and raw, as if he'd swallowed a handful of caltrops. "What's the rule?"

"No talking," Winter supplied readily, excited, then seemed to catch herself. She mimed zipping her mouth shut. The rest of the pack followed suit, heads down and eyes huge with innocence.

"I'm sorry," Snow offered, as she crossed to the bed and pressed a kiss to Bigby's brow. Still too hot, but she couldn't tell how much was the fever and how much was the radiant heat of six furry bodies squished into bed with him. He seemed lucid enough as he leaned into her touch. "I said I'd keep them out of your hair."

"They're okay," he said with hoarse amusement. "Better than hot water bottles."

"I guess they are kind of cute," Snow mused. "Think we should keep them?"

"Suppose we'd better, at least for a few more years."

She smiled, and let the pack have another few minutes as she circled the room tidying up a few things that had been knocked over from either enthusiastic indoor flying, or a poorly contained sneeze. Probably the former, though, she didn't see any windows blown out. She did crack a few of those open to let in the cool, rainy scent of the valley. Ghost couldn't exactly cuddle like a wolf child, but he liked to be useful, and the soft, steady breeze that filtered in all but had his name stamped on it. Good boy.

She refilled a water glass by the bed, retrieved another handkerchief from the top drawer of the dresser, then padded back to where Bigby was regarding her with drowsy-eyed affection.

"Efficient," he said, approving.

"That's my name."

Therese tilted her head slightly to frown at her. "I thought your name was Snow, Mommy."

She clasped a hand over her eyes and stood there like that for a moment until the silent shaking of her shoulders had abated. "Alright, up up. Airborne, all of you. We're doing some rearranging."

There was a concert of giggles as the cubs hovered over the bed, taking half of the covers with them. Bigby stretched cramped limbs gratefully while she fixed the sheets back into place and scooted in beside him. She left the duvet folded at the foot of the bed for now.

"Why did you send our kids out to murder helpless woodland creatures?" Bigby wondered, and earned himself a snort of laughter.

"Okay, I'm not even going to begin to point out all the shades of hypocrisy in that," she smirked back at him. "And if you could smell a thing, you wouldn't have to ask. You really are stuffed up."

Bigby shrugged, and sniffed to emphasize the lack of airflow he could get into his sinuses. "You cooked?" He guessed.

"Mmm. I said I'd make you soup. The whole nine yards," she reminded him, as she gestured the cubs to settle back down. They drifted to the mattress gentle as dandelion fluff, rather than their usual boisterous gusting and whooshing. She stroked Ambrose's head where it rested in her lap, then hesitated, a hand tensed in his coat as Bigby made a terrible, crinkling face and assaulted his nose. Either the failed sniffle or the stirring of fur and dander had apparently incited a fresh quill of irritation.

"... do you need...?" She held out the folded square of spellweave.

"Please -- hh!" His voice weakened, all gravel, salt and smoke as his breath warped into a trembling inhale. "HHH--!"

In spite of her reassurances the previous night, Snow adjusted her grip on a couple of the nearest cubs. She gathered them close under forearm and elbow just as the bed frame jolted violently with the force of her husband's sneeze.

"HUH-RHFFFSSHHHH!!" He held the clutch of fabric in place for a moment, the bridge of his nose a flurry of wrinkles just over its edge, then gradually relaxed.

"Bless you. Done?" Snow prompted, skeptical. Bigby lowered the handkerchief with a ragged sigh.

"I'm not sure." He glanced at the protective curl of her arms over young wolves, then looked quietly away. Snow winced.

"Sorry, that was..."

"Instinct, I know. S'okay. It's a good thing for a mother to have," he said, softening it with his best effort at a smile.

"Come here," she invited, after gently nudging Winter into a better position, and freeing the space between them. She beckoned him closer, though he gave her a slightly wry, tired look.

"Better not, feel like I might sneeze again." He cleared his throat, then added, "Snow, it's fine. You didn't hurt my feelings."

"Yes I did. You're a delicate flower and I scuffed your fragile petals," she teased and apologized at the same time. "Get over here and let me cuddle you, mongrel."

He huffed a voiceless laugh, but shifted under the covers and cubs until he could slouch against her, resting his head on her shoulder. She needed wait only a few beats before he was tensing under the loose fold of her arm. She actually felt his nose crinkle against her skin, in a fashion that would have made her heart race if not for the tempering presence of the cubs. Instead, she reached for the handkerchief he was still grappling open, and fit it neatly into place just in time to corral his swelling inhale.

"Huh--!" His breath stuttered in surprise at the pressure of her hand. His large, rough palm closed over its back, as if she couldn't possibly hope to dam it back on her own. Snow bit her lip. "--H'RFSSHHH!!"

Even with the brace of magic and his hand in place, she jolted to feel the point blank explosion muffled into her palm. It didn't hurt, exactly, but she did lock every joint and sinew down tight, girding herself against the blow. Bigby was wound up nearly as tight as he leaned into the shelter of her sidelong embrace with another shuddering breath.

"--HH'RRDSSCHHHoo!"

He sagged with heavy, palpable relief afterwards, muscles uncoiling until she was sure he would come undone at the seams. Snow pressed a nosing kiss into his hair, unwashed and smelling like sweat, dog and wilderness. Everything good and foul and familiar.

She shifted in surprise as he drew his hand away, and felt the brush of claws against her knuckles. "Bless you. What's this?" She wondered, relinquishing the handkerchief to catch him by the wrist. He shrugged, guilty, and flexed his hand until the stripe of dark fur and curve of claws receded. "Please tell me you have that in check," she said, with dread visions of being crushed by a half ton wolf if he lost human form in the midst of a fever dream.

"Yeah, m'good," Bigby slurred wearily. "That one just tickled like hell." Snow jogged him closer, at this, and crushed another sympathetic kiss to his temple.

The cubs had remained wisely quiet, even drowsing. They seemed already acclimated to the natural disaster of their father's cold. Connor wrinkled his snout at the sight of their affection, however.

"Yuck, kissing."

"You're next," Snow warned, amused. He grimaced and burrowed his head under one of his sisters.

Bigby blew his nose and then wiped at it for a few moments, cringing very slightly at even the soft touch of fabric on raw nostrils. "...did you really make pheasant soup?"

"It's got another couple hours to simmer, but yes. Don't sound so surprised."

"More flattered. That's what your mom made you, right?"

"Yes," she admitted more quietly, fondly. It had taken her a few centuries to perfect the recipe, and its ingredients had been hard to come by in the city. Here on the edge of the woods, however, fresh game and herbs, vegetables grown in an actual plot and not a sad pot facing her most generous window had slowly reintegrated into her diet. She found herself recreating more and more comfort foods from her youth. She'd made the soup for the cubs when the season was right, but Bigby barely got sick once a decade. He certainly hadn't been since returning to the fold. This had to be weird for him, though she hoped it was in a good way. "You said wolves didn't really do caretaking, so."

"These guys are pretty good at it," Bigby admitted, glancing down at the assorted flavors of cubs stretched out across them. Ambrose, still awake and sprawled on his back, wagged his tail appealingly.

"You're not half bad either," Snow said, as she nudged him back onto the pillows. "Get some sleep, Wolf, before you start huffing and puffing again."

Bigby gave her a crooked smirk. "You should too, then. I know I kept you up all damned night."

"I asked for it," Snow reminded him, but she inched herself carefully down between dozing bodies and let him curl an arm around her from behind. The hot rush of a predator's breath on the back of her neck felt more reassuring than threatening, especially as one of their offspring squirmed a furry body up between her arms. This was her life, now, more wolves and wilds than princes and castles. She was more than okay with that.

Edited September 24, 2014 by Garnet

[SterlingSilver]

My goodness. Is there anything better than fiction by Garnet? I think not~

Seriously, I enjoyed this so very much <3. You always seem to perfectly capture everything you set out to describe, and Bigby's illness is no exception. I could see all of this happening, with glowing characterization and lovely pace~ I absolutely adored how you had the pups function as a unit, but they still managed to have distinct personalities. And Bigby fighting sneezes in order to keep his babies safe was just so precious it hurt >w<~

GWAH~! I just love love love everything you write! I can't get enough! Thank you for showering so much talent and quality writing on these boards, Garnet~! <33

[Hibiscus]

Outstanding story, Garnet!

I love the fatherly side of Bigby; he's so protective and loving towards the pups. Your writing painted a crystal clear scene, and Bigby's misery was almost tangible. Thank you for the wonderful contribution.

Edited September 24, 2014 by Day

[Mr. Black Cherry Berry Tea]

Ah. Hm. Yes. Yes very much please. All the close calls. The waking up needing to sneeze. The STIFLES. Yeah, this was amazing.

[Garnet]

BlackScatter - Oh, you flatterer. Thank you so much, I always appreciate your comments. Characterization is one of my favorite parts of writing, I feel like the tiny details and nuances, however mundane, can turn a good story into a great one. Granted, I tend to get sidetracked by that and only focus on characterization, but whatever, I'm not writing novels here haha.

I'm glad the cubs came across okay, there are so many to keep track of that it gets overwhelming, but I didn't want to dismiss them into background "furniture" characters, either.

And Bigby fighting sneezes in order to keep his babies safe was just so precious it hurt >w<~

Um and this phrasing made me grin and seal clap and reread it a few times. Hee.

Day - Aww, thank you so much for the comments! I love sick stories where it's not just convenient sneezing, but a whole miserable ordeal. I have such weakness for hurt/comfort.

Mr. T - Yay, I'm glad it's well-received! I wanted to thank you for the comments on my other Fables stories too, but sometimes I feel a little weird about bumping my own threads. But they were much appreciated. Sidenote: I read through some of your older stories and even though I know it's not fandom-related, I snickered to myself at every mention of a 'fairy tale wolf' in likening to giant sneezes.

[AppleBlossom]

Ahhhhh! I freaking love it so much! There are no words! You and your stories are just too amazing! Your little fic has made me feel so much better, I'm melting into a puddle now haha!

[snuffles]

She very nearly had to sit down right there on the floor at the debilitating wave of cute.

THIS line right here describes me right now too! Too much cuteness I could not handle a reply!

And adorable fluffy floating cuddling cubs? This fandom is almost killing me. I'm such a closet fan of big bad wolf sneezes, especially the way you write them with the desperation of not blowing down the house. But add in CUTE and I'm melting on the floor too.

OH! And THIS!!

He felt like melted ice cream dripped on the sidewalk, lukewarm and runny -- not much good for anything or anyone.

Edited September 28, 2014 by snuffles

[Anonymouse]

Augghhhh this heals my wounded soul. Fluff from my favorite fluffy family. <3

"I'm bored," Dare groaned, leaning into her hip as if it was the only thing in the world that kept him from collapsing into a boneless pile of ennui at her feet. Snow ignored his dramatics resolutely.

Love it. So little-kid. I remember my sister whining that all the time and I'd always retort "So shut up and do something already!"

I love how they start piling in, one by one.

"Knock it off," Bigby growled. At least the sore throat had made his voice a little deeper, even more menacing than usual as the cubs immediately settled, cowed. "No fighting, no talking. If you're gonna be up here, go the fuck to sleep."

I'm glad you didn't have himself censor himself around the cubs. So on point with his character. Also:

Just the idea of stifling made his sinuses twinge with sympathy, but he had cubs on every side, and catching them in the crossfire was completely unacceptable. He'd let his own head explode first.

idk why but I loved that so much. So selfless and protective of his kiddos.

"Here," she said, tucking something soft and dry into his free hand. He registered the texture of spellweave under his touch, and nearly groaned. Bless her tiny heart.

"Thanks, lemon pie," he croaked, an instant before the delicate prickling became ruthless. He folded himself into both hands for the impact.

"HUH-WRHFFFHHHhh!" The bed lurched with a threatening creak, while the cubs laid low to the covers. Just in case. Fortunately, the first sneeze cleared most of the tickle from his nose in one violent rush, leaving just enough left to hitch towards with wavering breaths.

When he calls her lemon pie! Dying of sweetness. And all the obligatory "Gesundheit, daddy"s, reminds me of the picture in the first book where he blew the wall out on the house

One of my favorites yet! ... actually, I lied, they're all my favorite. (Is that even possible? Wotever.)

[Twezz]

This has got to be one of the cutest stories I've ever read. I admit I've never read fables before, but reading this definitely makes me want to pick up a copy. I'm a sucker for fairytales and fairytales reiminagined. I loved seeing the family interactions and also those sneezes. Poor Bigby. XD It's not easy being sick when one sneeze could literally blow a hole in the wall, and take a couple of cubs with it. And he really fought so hard to keep that from happening. Really cute story. <3