Megan & Francisco - 6 - The Ex-Box (f, m)

[angora48]

As promised, here's the next installment in the Megan & Francisco series! This story is a direct continuation of "Two-Soup Love."

The series so far:

An Honor Just to Be Nominated (m)

Ideal Sick-Day Viewing (m)

Returning the Favor (f, m)

Rule One of Hollywood (m)

Two-Soup Love (f)

 

Here we go! Part 1. ☺️

 

If you’d asked Megan to describe how she wanted her first time staying in Mexico with Francisco to go, she wouldn’t have put “come down with a cold the day we get to his house” on the list. But, here we are.

Her cold apparently took offense to Megan’s hopes that it would be something little that she could get over quickly, because it put its foot down in a “do you know who you’re dealing with?” sort of way. She hadn’t even overexerted herself, just sat on the couch watching movies with Francisco, but then she’d gotten woozy getting up to the bathroom, and then she wound up having a quick 8-hour “nap.”

Also, she told Francisco that she loved him. Semi-accidentally, 100% honestly. So there were upsides too.

Once her cold had made its show of force, it settled down a little, reassured that Megan would show it the proper respect from here on out. And she did. 

They settled into a basic routine of cook (Francisco,) eat, movie, sleep (Megan,) repeat. They’d watch one movie after breakfast, then another once Megan got up from a 2-3-hour nap. She didn’t mess around—she stayed in her pajamas all day, and during movie time, she’d get comfy on the couch with one of the pillows from Francisco’s bedroom (foot- and/or backrubs from Francisco optional.)

Lunch and supper were both soup, with Francisco whipping up a new concoction each morning and enough leftovers from the day before that they didn’t have to repeat themselves. Over the next couple of days, he added a veggie soup with meatballs and a white bean chili with chicken to the menu. As for the movies, they wound up splitting their time between high-octane Charlize Theron-led action films (Atomic Blonde, Mad Max: Fury Road) and cozy period dramas from female authors (Persuasion, Little Women.)

Francisco was all about the pampering and lazing about. His sweet attentiveness gave Megan a little flutter in her stomach. For her money, Francisco taking care of her was nearly as sexy as him being sick himself.

Now, as they closed on Jo March and Professor Bhaer in the rain, Francisco gave Megan a warm squeeze, kissing the top of her head. “What soup do you want for dinner?” he asked.

Megan sniffled, stifling a cough into her hands. “I thidk I’ll do the, what was it, albindigas?”

“Albondigas,” Francisco corrected, chuckling.

“Al-bon-di-gas,” Megan repeated carefully. “I’ll do that wud agaid. It’s so dubby!”

“Perfect,” he told her, getting up from the couch. “And I’ll have more of the chayote.”

While Francisco heated up their soup, Megan settled comfortably onto the couch, sneezing a strong “ihhhhh-SHOOOOO-ehhhhhh!” into her steepled hands. “Dod’t get be wrong,” she said. “I like the Greta Gerwig verzhud too, but there’s just sobething I really love a-abou…” Her nose startled to tickle again. “hihhhhhh-CHIOOOOO! ...About the nineties verzhud.”

“Winona Ryder was so good,” Francisco remarked. “Salud—Claire Danes and Kirsten Dunst too.”

“Dod’t forget Christiad Bale!” Megan added, sitting back up as he returned to the couch with a tray.

“Who could forget him?” Francisco replied, grinning. He handed her a bowl of vegetable soup with albondigas—beef meatballs—in it.

“Gracias,” Megan said. She sniffled, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

“Headache?” Francisco asked. “Do you want more medicine?”

He looked posed to spring up from the couch again. But as delicious as it was to have her handsome actor boyfriend at her beck and call, Megan didn’t need Francisco jumping at every little thing. 

“Later,” she told him, resting a hand on his thigh to still him. “After w-we ea-eat… aaaahhhhhh-SHIAHHHHHH!” She caught the hard sneeze in the crook of her arm.

Francisco tsked affectionately, squeezing her shoulder. “Salud.”

Megan flashed him a sheepish smile, then looked down at her soup bowl. Over the last few days, she had, by necessity, grown a lot more used to sneezing around Francisco, but it was an act that could never be 100% neutral for her.

They discussed the movie over their dinner. Francisco had only seen the 2019 adaptation before, so Megan was curious to hear his thoughts. He liked having two different actresses playing Amy at different ages, and he understood the Jo/Professor Bhaer relationship better here. He agreed with Megan that the proposal scene was a gut punch.

“hahhhhhhh-CHIUHHHHHH! hehhhhh…ihhhhhh-SHUHHHHHH!” Megan sneezed, burying her nose in a tissue.

Francisco drew his arm around her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Megan said, sniffling as she wiped her nose. “Just stuffed up add kide of tired.”

“Ready to sleep?” he asked.

“Pretty sood,” she admitted. She didn’t feel terrible—her sore throat wasn’t that bad, and her chest didn’t hurt when she coughed—but she felt drained. Even though she went to bed early every night, woke up late every morning, and took a nap every afternoon, it was like she just couldn’t get to the point where she felt entirely rested. Throw in a mild fever, an itchy nose, and a persistent headache, and it all sapped her energy.

Francisco nodded. “I’ll clean up,” he said, kissing her cheek as he took her empty bowl. “You get ready.”

Megan headed to the bathroom, catching another hard “aaaahhhhhh-SHIOOOOOO!” in her hands. Looking herself over in the mirror, her cold was unmistakable. Besides the pajamas and messy hair, she looked a little pale, with the exception of the circles under her eyes and her red-tinged nostrils.

“ehhhhhhh-CHOOOO-uhhhhhhhh!” she sneezed again, only just bringing her hand to her face.

Francisco had set up Kleenex boxes around the house, but there wasn’t one in here. Megan tore off a strip of toilet paper and gave her nose a hard blow.

Francisco came into the bedroom while Megan was taking her socks off—good to wear around the house, not so good to sleep in. Once she lobbed them in the hamper, he wrapped her in a hug from behind, kissing her neck. “More medicine?” he asked.

Megan nodded, and Francisco shook a couple ibuprofen from the bottle on the nightstand. He handed them to her, along with her water.

“Thadks,” she said, sniffling. She’d only blown her nose a few minutes ago, but she already felt stuffed up again.

After she swallowed the pills, Megan said, “By the way, I really like that box.” She pointed to a wooden box on one of Francisco’s shelves. It was brightly painted in what was almost of a kaleidoscopic design. “Every tibe I cobe id here, it’s the first thing I dotice.”

Francisco walked to the shelf and picked up the box. “Yes, I got it in Oaxaca,” he said, holding it out to her. “There are so many great artists there. It’s my Xbox.”

Megan looked up from the box, giggling. “Y-your whaaahh-huhhhhhh-SHOOOOO!” she started to ask, trailing off into a sneeze.

“Salud,” Francisco said. “Sorry, is that wrong? You know, like when you’re dating someone, and you break up? ‘Ex,’ ¿no?”

“Oh, ex-box,” Megan replied as the realization dawned on her.

“Right,” he said. “It’s, you know, just pictures and little things from when we dated, to remember them. You can look if you want, I don’t mind.”

“Oh,” Megan said again. “Th-that’s okay.” Suddenly shy, she gave the box back to him. “I, ub, I should probably go to bed. I’be pretty tired.”

“Okay,” Francisco said, pulling her in for one more hug and kissing her forehead. “Buenas noches.”

She smiled weakly. “You too.”

Francisco left the bedroom, setting the ex-box back on the shelf and turning off the lights as he left. Megan lay down, switching the lamp off and rolling over to face the wall. The box’s vivid colors and neat patterns had caught her eye, but now it was drawing her attention in a different way.

 

[angora48]

Here's Part 2.

 

The next morning, Francisco broke with their “Charlize Theron action film or female-led period drama” routine. Hell, he even broke with their baseline movie routine.

“Do you want to watch Maya and the Three?” he asked over breakfast, the one meal they ate at the table and not on the couch. “I love that so much, it’s too long since I watched it.”

“I dod’t thidk I doh that wud,” Megan admitted, holding her tortilla with one hand to rub her nose with the other.

“It’s on Netflix,” Francisco explained eagerly. “A, um, a miniseries, animated. It’s from Jorge R. Gutiérrez, do you know him? He’s a Mexican American director, he did The Book of Life.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve seed that,” Megan said with a small smile. “I liked how bost of the songs were covers of pop or rock songs, l-li-ike…” Her breath hitched as an itch flared in her nose. “hehhhhh…ahhhhhh…hihhhhhh-CHOOOOO-uhhhhhh!” Sniffling, she reached for a Kleenex. “Like ad addibated Bexicad Boulid Rouge.”

“Salud,” Francisco said hastily before replying, “Exactly! This one doesn’t have singing, but it’s so good! Do you want to watch it?”

“S--” Megan broke off coughing. “Souds good.”

“Great,” he said. As he got up to wash his breakfast dishes, he kissed her cheek on the way to the sink, leaving Megan to finish eating.

Logically, Megan knew it was silly and kind of petty to be dwelling on the ex-box. It’s not as if she hadn’t known Francisco had dated plenty of women before her, and he’d never given any indication of being hung up on his exes or comparing Megan unfavorably to them.

But it was one thing to be abstractly aware of exes as people who existed. It was another to conceptualize them as specific women. Before, when Megan was just a fan of Francisco’s work, she’d only engaged with his films. She hadn’t gone out of her way to learn about his personal life, and she’d never been much of a tabloid person–she certainly wasn’t about to go looking for Mexican tabloids because of an actor she liked.

So she didn’t know who else Francisco had dated. But Megan’s imagination (and self-esteem) was already in overdrive conjuring up hypotheticals: actresses who had more in common with him, all of them hotter than Megan, less anxious and with better figures. Rich and talented, with easy charisma. It was hard to picture any of these hypothetical women bumming around Francisco’s house in their pajamas with a runny nose.

After giving his latest soup a quick stir in its pot, Francisco returned to the table for Megan’s empty plate. “Are you okay?” he asked. “You seem a little more quiet.”

Megan forced a smile. “Just tired,” she told him. “aaahhhhhh-huhhhhhhh-SHOOOOOO!” She bent forward, cupping her hands over her mouth.

Francisco tsked, feeling her forehead. “You still have kind of a fever,” he remarked. “Do you need anything? What can I do for you?”

He was being every bit as lovely as he’d been all week, but it was harder for Megan to enjoy it when she couldn’t get the thought of sexy, put-together, non-sneezing exes out of her mind. “I’be all right,” she said. “It’ll be fide wudce we start the show.”

“If you’re sure,” Francisco told her. “You were very sick before, and I don’t want you to have to feel that bad again. If you’re too tired and sick, we can wait for Maya and the Three.”

Shit, now her weird mood was worrying him. “It’s okay, really,” Megan insisted, standing up. “Cobe od, let’s start watching.”

Since she’d gotten sick, Megan had been okay with Francisco kissing her on the cheek or the forehead, but she hadn’t kissed him at all. Now, she gave him a soft cheek kiss. “Cobe od,” she repeated, taking his hand.

Francisco smiled. “All right,” he said. “Just let me finish cleaning up—you go to the couch.” He kissed her temple, and they parted.

Megan got comfortable on the couch, tucking the pillow behind her head and curling her feet up under her. “huhhhhhhh-CHIUHHHHHH!” she sneezed again. “ehhhhhh-hihhhhh-SHUHHHHHHH!”

“Salud!” Francisco called from the kitchen.

Megan cleared her throat. “Thadks,” she replied.

When he joined her on the couch, Francisco seized the remote and pulled up his Netflix, smiling eagerly as he searched for Maya and the Three.

“Nine episodes,” he told. “I don’t know exactly how long it is, probably four or five hours. That’s kind of like two movies, right? So we can just do the same thing, watch part of it now and then the rest after your nap. How’s that?”

“ehhhhhh-SHUHHHHHHH! That’ll work,” Megan agreed, sniffling.

It was clear that Francisco was excited to share this animated miniseries with her, so Megan decided to try and let herself get wrapped up in it. Just the thing she needed to get out of her head and stop feeling insecure, right?

Mentally, she crossed her fingers. Here’s hoping.

[Privatedancer]

I would be wayyyy too tempted to look in the ex-box!  Hopefully he has a current box or better yet a forever box set up for Megan

[2SHY222]

I just found this today and binge read all the other stories throughout the day. I absolutely love this. You've got me hooked 🥰

[angora48]

On 7/28/2024 at 10:00 PM, Privatedancer said:

I would be wayyyy too tempted to look in the ex-box!  Hopefully he has a current box or better yet a forever box set up for Megan

I know, right? It's a bit of a mental minefield for her!

On 7/29/2024 at 7:07 PM, 2SHY222 said:

I just found this today and binge read all the other stories throughout the day. I absolutely love this. You've got me hooked 🥰

Aww, thanks so much! I'm glad you like this series. Megan and Francisco are such a delight to write!

Part 3!

 

Sharing a movie or a show with someone was always a heady feeling. Sometimes it was just fun or joyous—I love you, and I love this! A perfect match! Sometimes it felt deeply intimate—watching this will give you a better understanding of who I am. And sometimes there was even a sense of vulnerability to it—please love this as much as I do.

Francisco and Megan both had eclectic taste in movies, so while they both liked a lot of the same things, each had plenty of favorites that the other just hadn’t seen before. Francisco loved the way they could sort of have a conversation through a film. When one of them introduced something to the other, even before they exchanged a word of real discussion about it, there was communication in the pure act of watching it.

He’d been feeling that conversation a lot since they’d arrived in Mexico City. No doubt they would’ve watched some movies no matter what, but with Megan’s cold, they’d been staying in and being lazy on the couch. It was special to share A Little Princess together, a classic from one of Francisco’s favorite directors and one of Megan’s favorite comfort films going back to her childhood. That had led to others like it, emotional period pieces about girls or women that felt formative for Megan. Last night, her pleasure at showing Francisco Little Women had been palpable. And then Atomic Blonde was completely different from any of those films, but both of them watched it on the edge of their seat, and the next day, they’d both had the idea that they needed to watch Fury Road too.

Now, as they finished the first episode of Maya and the Three, Megan remarked, “The addibation is fadtastic.” She cleared her throat, coughing a little into her fist. “The costubes add the character designs are abazing.”

“Yes,” Francisco said. “The whole thing is inspired by different Mesoamerican cultures, and then it’s all made in Jorge R. Gutiérrez’s style. Really cool.”

Megan nodded, her expression growing hazy as she gave a little gasp. “ahhhhhhh…ihhhhhhh-SHIUHHHHHHH!”

“Salud,” he told her. She glanced shyly at him, sniffling as she rubbed her nose.

Francisco knew that Megan probably wouldn’t understand yet why he liked it so much. It was a miniseries that built so beautifully—he knew that it wasn’t the sort of thing you watched and said, “That was brilliant!” right after episode 1. You had to let it grow and follow the journey it took you on.

“Are you okay to keep going?” he asked.

Megan sneezed again, a strong “hihhhhhhhh-SHIAAHHHHHH!” into her hands. “I’m good,” she said, offering a reassuring smile.

Tsking, Francisco gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze, and they rolled into the next episode. It seemed like Megan was a little sad today, and maybe more embarrassed about her cold. Francisco hoped she was all right. He could keep telling her there was nothing to be embarrassed about, but that wasn’t something you could always fix just by saying it.

So instead, he did what he could to show it. They had only said I love you to each other for the first time a few days ago, and Francisco wanted Megan to feel very loved. He’d always been type to want to do things for the people he cared about. Every morning as he made soup, he pictured it saying, Do you feel safe? Do you feel nourished? Do you feel cared for?

Keeping his eyes on the screen, Francisco reached for one of Megan’s feet curled up on the couch. As he rubbed it, she murmured, “Mmmb….” in a soft tone.

They were almost finished with the second episode when Francisco got a call. “Ay, it’s the AD,” he told Megan, pausing the show. “I’d better answer.”

He got up from the couch, walking to the kitchen as he answered the phone—might as well check on the soup at the same time. “Hey, Carlos, what’s up?”

“Hey, Francisco,” the AD replied, brisk but personable. “Can you come in today for screen tests? I know we said Thursday, but Paz is going to be out of town, and we’d really like to get both of you in together.”

Francisco glanced back toward the living room. He was excited to get a look at his character in costume and makeup, but he must have gotten too used to his lazy days at home with Megan, because the thought of going out made him feel tired.

Swallowing his reluctance, he said, “Yeah, sure. Sometime today?”

“Right, maybe in an hour or two?” Carlos said. “You know how it goes. The makeup will take a while.”

“Yeah,” Francisco replied, stirring the soup. “Okay. I’ll head out soon. See you later.”

“Thanks, man,” Carlos said.

When Francisco returned to the living room, Megan was looking over the back of the couch at him. “I have to go into work for a while,” he explained. “Soon. We have time to finish this episode, and then I should get ready to leave. Sorry.”

“Dod’t worry about it,” Megan assured him. “We dew you w-- you w-ere…” She had to sneeze; she cupped her hands over her mouth. “hehhhhhhh-ihhhhhhh-SHUHHHHHH! You were probably guh-uhhhda get-- get caaahhhh…”

She was trying to get through her sentence before a second sneeze, but she just couldn’t do it. She turned away from Francisco. “ehhhhhh-SHIOOOOOOO! ahhhhhh-CHIUHHHHH!”

“Salud,” Francisco said, wincing a little as he rubbed her shoulder.

“I-I was saying,” Megan went on, her cheeks turning pink, “we dew they were going to call you id sooder or later. Ihhh-it’s fide…hihhhhhh-CHOOOO-ehhhhhh!”

Francisco tsked softly and pulled Megan in for a hug. “So much sneezing,” he said, kissing her temple. “I wish I didn’t have to leave when you feel so bad.”

“I’be okay,” Megan insisted, although Francisco had heard that one before. “There’s already soup od the stove. I cad just take by dap a little early, add we cad watch the rest of Baya add the Three whedever you get back.”

“All right,” Francisco acquiesced, although he made a mental note to give Megan some extra pampering when he came home from the studio. Guiding her head onto his shoulder, he kept his arm around her as he pressed play to finish the episode.

[2SHY222]

I'm melting 🫠 I'm not normally into f stories but this is sooooooo good 

[ichixshiro14]

This story is as sweet as ever, I love them so much!! I'll bet that make-up brush will clue Francisco into some nasal sensitivity he didn't realize he was feeling...🤣

And the idea of an ex-box? So clever!

I would definitely feel insecure too, I don't blame Megan!

[angora48]

Aww, thanks for the comments! This is my longest Megan and Francisco story so far, and I'm glad folks are liking it!

Here's Part 4. It takes a little while to get to "the good stuff," but there's a lot more on the way! Spanish dialogue is in italics.

 

Francisco felt a little rushed as he made it to the studio. He didn’t like feeling rushed. Maybe it was a side effect of spending so much time in L.A. the last six months—Americans rushed all the time.

Before he left the house, he’d turned the heat down on the soup and set out a bowl for Megan, along with containers to put the leftovers in the fridge. He’d refilled her water and double checked if there was anything she needed. 

Megan was an adult, and she could obviously take care of herself, but Francisco just wanted to make sure she felt at home. No matter how much he reassured her, it was still obvious that she felt guilty about “messing up” their first few days in Mexico City by getting sick. Even beyond her cold, she needed some extra affection.

“Hey,” he said, coming into makeup. His costar, Paz Peña Vasquez, was already there, eyes closed and headphones in while two makeup artists worked on her. She must have been listening to a podcast—Francisco had worked with Paz a couple times before, and it was always podcasts with her.

“Hi Francisco,” a third makeup artist said, looking up from some supplies she was straightening. “I’m Camila. Gabi and I will be looking after you for this shoot.” One of the artists working on Paz waved her hand in acknowledgement.

Francisco offered her a friendly smile and climbed into the chair. “Let’s do this!” he said brightly.

The film was Near Miss. The premise was that every human on Earth has a soulmate, and every human has an otherworldly “love spirit” assigned to them, whose job it is to unite them with that soulmate. The main characters in the movie, Juan and Maria, are soulmates who were supposed to have met as children, but something went wrong. For the last 20 years, their bickering love spirits have been trying to fix that mistake, but the two humans somehow keep missing each other. If they don’t meet soon, their chance at love will run out altogether.

That’s where Francisco and Paz came in. Francisco was playing Destino, Maria’s spirit, while Paz was Futura, Juan’s spirit. It was the first time Francisco was playing a non-human character, and he was really excited about it. There was so much to consider—not just Destino’s personality and lines, but how he would move, how he’d speak. Over the last few days, that was mainly what Francisco had been working on when Megan would take a nap or go to bed early: experimenting with different possibilities to create this character.

Naturally, hair, makeup, and costume were going to be major parts of that. Seeing the progress on Paz gave Francisco a sneak peek, but it was even more impressive to watch it all come together on his own face. Camila set to work first, creating a shimmering iridescence along his hairline and around his eyes and cuticles. Then Gabi, who was moving between him and Paz, helped her add pastel streaks that set across his face, neck, hands, and feet in fluid, organic-seeming ways. Partway through this elegant construction, in came Frida to set his wig, which was a blend of different shades of brown, blond, platinum, and violet. 

The only thing was, it took a long time. Francisco had only spent this long in makeup once before, and that was for a zombie biting his face. You don’t really come back from that, so it was just for one day. This was going to be every day of filming, a couple hours in the makeup chair

Francisco reminded himself that it would be completely worth it, and he could (very slowly) see the evidence of how amazing it was going to look. But as he sat still, a living canvas while Camila and Gabi diligently made art on his skin, it was hard to occupy his thoughts on any one thing for long.

He considered a playlist, but he knew from experience that he couldn’t trust himself to keep still in the makeup chair that way. When they started shooting, maybe he ought to bring in his tablet. He could make a list of movies or shows he could watch while they worked on him every morning.

When, about an hour in, Francisco started to notice a stinging sensation in his throat, he thought he was imagining it at first. The way you can make something out of nothing by thinking about it too much. For a while, he tried telling himself it was exactly that, but over the next 20 minutes, it became impossible to ignore. That was also around the time the headache started setting in, and when he realized his tiredness wasn’t just due to laziness or boredom.

“Shit,” he muttered.

Camila looked up from the streak she was painting on his neck. “What’s wrong?”

Francisco half wrestled back a grimace. “I think I might be getting a cold.”

Gabi smirked. “You couldn’t have mentioned that an hour ago?” she teased.

“I didn’t know an hour ago,” Francisco explained. “I only just started feeling it. But my girlfriend’s been sick, so I guess it makes sense.”

“Well, warn us if you have to sneeze!” Camila told him. “We don’t wanna poke you in the eye or anything, not to mention we’re both in the splash zone.”

“I think it’s okay for now,” Francisco said. “I just have a bit of a sore throat and a headache.”

“Let’s shoot for keeping it that way until we’re done,” Camila advised. “A job like this gets infinitely longer when you have to keep pausing for sneezes.”

“And retouching after sneezes!” Gabi added.

Francisco swallowed a sigh and forced a smile. “Then I guess it’s good you already did my nose.”

***

By the time Camila and Gabi were finished with him, Francisco’s throat and head were definitely hurting. He hadn’t started sneezing yet, but he was starting to feel stuffed up; whenever he sniffed, Gabi and Camila paused for a second and gave him a look like, Are you about to blow?

Despite wishing that he could’ve gotten a cold tomorrow instead of today, it was still incredible to see the end result in the mirror. Peering at the delicate patterns flowing across his face and the shimmer that caught the light whenever he turned his head, Francisco hardly recognized himself. It really felt like he was looking at Destino.

“This is phedomenal,” he told Camila and Gabi. “I cad already feel myself getting idto character.”

Gabi blew on the end of one of her brushes, like a smoking pistol in an old western. “Hey, you work your magic, we do ours.”

“Absolutely!” Francisco agreed.

He headed over to costumes, where Enrique got him set up. Destino had a few versions of the same outfit, like a torn/stained one following some misadventures later in the film. It somehow looked like a bodysuit and a robe at the same time, a fitted one-piece garment with long drapes of fabric hanging down at different points—Enrique had to fasten everything just right so that it would flow but also stay in place and not trip Francisco up. The whole thing was a mottled gray and cream, with threads of the same pastel colors as the streaks on Francisco’s face.

“What do you think?” Enrique asked. “Ethereal, no?”

“Very,” Francisco replied. He sniffled, wishing he could rub his nose but not wanting to smudge his makeup.

So to distract himself, he dropped into a crouch. Destino felt like a very tactile character, like he would climb on things or crawl. Sniffling again, Francisco moved on the balls of his feet, touching his fingertips to the floor for balance. “Do I look like a love spirit?”

“Before we started these designs, I couldn’t have told you what a love spirit looked like,” Enrique said. “But I’m pretty sure this is it!”

Francisco met back up with Paz. Her look was very similar to his, although her costume was a bit darker and her wig had strands of teal in it instead of violet.

“Wow, you look abazing!” he said, mustering up as much energy as he could.

Paz smiled. “You look pretty good yourself! But my God, it took over two hours. That’s gonna be hard to get used to every morning.”

“You’ll have to start sobe dew podcasts,” Francisco said. He sniffled, wriggling his nose.

The screen tests were crucial, making sure the love spirits looked right on camera. When Francisco and Paz got to set, the first thing they did was stand still for detailed photos. A photographer captured every aspect of their makeup, the styling of their wigs, and the drape of their costumes, to ensure consistency for filming.

This was when Francisco first started sneezing. His nose was beginning to itch a little anyway, and he was sure the camera flashes didn’t help.

“Ehhhhh-shiaaahhhhhh!” he sneezed, turning his head toward the floor and holding his arms back so he wouldn’t get the sleeves of his costume dirty.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, straightening back up.

“Bless you,” Paz remarked.

“I’be getting a cold,” Francisco explained, sniffling.

“Better now than later, I suppose,” she replied. “You should have plenty of time to get over it before shooting starts.”

“Thank god for that.”

After Francisco’s third sneeze, Carlos walked over. “You could’ve told me you were sick, you know,” he pointed out.

“I didn’t start feeling like this udtil I got here,” Francisco protested. He winced at the sting in his throat.

“Well, we’ll try to be as quick as we can,” the AD told him. He called, “Can somebody get some tissues for Francisco?”

It wasn’t nearly as bad as the sneezing fit Francisco had had on his first day on Semi-Fixable. For one, he wasn’t sneezing all the time, and for another, they weren’t actually shooting, so he didn’t have to worry about messing up takes. Not to mention, everyone here was much less uptight than the director of that film had been.

But on the other hand, he had zero good options for sneezing. He couldn’t cover with his arm or his shoulder, because he didn’t want to sneeze on his costume or have any of his makeup rub off on it, and sneezing into his hands might smudge his makeup. That left him just turning away from anyone close by and trying to aim toward the floor.

Every now and then, an assistant named Elena would come forward and dab at Francisco’s nose with a tissue, which was just a cringey situation altogether. And they didn’t need to be quite as exacting as they would once shooting started, but Camila and Gabi were called up periodically to retouch his nose and mouth.

“We’re getting some reflection off the lights!” called Miguel, the director. “Around the hairline. Can we fix that?”

The makeup artists came forward again, but as Camila lifted a brush toward him, Francisco said, “Wa-ait…” He turned around. “Huhhhhhh-chioooooo!”

“Bless you,” Camila said, making a slight face. “Elena?” The assistant ran up with the tissues, and Francisco tried to smile at her and not feel awkward about having someone wipe his nose for him.

On it went. Miguel and Carlos really did their best to keep everything moving, but it still took a while. Once the iridescent part of the makeup was given a bit of a matte to reduce the reflectiveness, that meant more photos. And they had to screen test at different levels of light, both inside and outside the studio.

Finally, though, they got through it. “Go home,” Miguel instructed Francisco. “Lots of rest, plenty of fluids. We’ll try not to bug you for anything else unless it’s urgent, but if you do get a call, make sure you tell them if you’re still feeling sick.”

“Got it,” Francisco replied wearily. “ehhhhhh…hehhhhh-chiuhhhhhh!” At least he could finally catch his sneeze in his hand, since it no longer mattered if he messed up his makeup.

Frida took the wig back, and Enrique helped him get out of his costume. Then there was just Camila left. “Let’s get you cleaned up so you can get out of here,” she said.

Francisco nodded, catching another “hihhhhh-shuhhhhhh!” in his hands as he returned to his makeup chair.

“Maybe blow your nose first,” she suggested. 

Elena must have already dropped the tissue box off, because there it was on the vanity. Camila grabbed the box and held it out to Francisco. He wasn’t feeling horrendously stuffed up or anything, but it still felt good to blow his nose properly.

Settling back in the chair, Francisco closed his eyes as Camila attacked him with makeup remover and cleansing pads, meticulously cleaning off his face, neck, hands, and feet. Sitting in a chair while someone else worked on his face was hardly arduous, and screen tests were more fiddly than challenging, but it had felt like an incredibly long day.

[ichixshiro14]

And so it begins!! 😈 Megan is going to feel so guilty, but it'll be worth it to take care of Francisco again! Do you think he'll ever realize she has the kink? I'm so glad you've been writing so much of them, they're some of my favorite characters on the forum ever and I've been on here at least ten years!! ❤️❤️❤️

[angora48]

On 8/5/2024 at 2:30 AM, ichixshiro14 said:

And so it begins!! 😈 Megan is going to feel so guilty, but it'll be worth it to take care of Francisco again! Do you think he'll ever realize she has the kink? I'm so glad you've been writing so much of them, they're some of my favorite characters on the forum ever and I've been on here at least ten years!! ❤️❤️❤️

Aww, thanks so much, @ichixshiro14! ♥️ As I said at the end of "Two-Soup Love," my original plan had been for this to all be one story, but I split it into two when I realized how long it was going to be. So in this instance, it just made sense to write both of them together!

As for whether Francisco will ever realize that Megan has the kink...hmm, good question. I could see it going either way, but I'm not sure how I'd want to go about it if he did. Would he start to put it together himself? Would she tell him? Would she get discovered somehow? That'd be something to figure out down the road.

Here's Part 5! 🥰

 

After eating some of the (excellent) soup Francisco had made that morning, Megan napped for a bit. She felt kind of restless, though, and found that it was harder than usual to stay asleep. Sitting up in bed, she rubbed her nose. Her breath started to hitch, and she caught a flurried “hihhhhhh-SHUHHHHHH! haaahhhhhh-ehhhhh-CHOOOOO!” in her hand.

No good, her mind was too busy for sleep. She decided to get up and poke around–she’d been at Francisco’s house for five days now, and she’d spent most of it in bed or on the couch. Sniffling, Megan got out of bed and mulled around Francisco’s bedroom.

Around the house, Francisco had several of those digital frames that cycle through photos, and Megan was slightly embarrassed/flattered to realize that she was the theme of the frame he’d put up in the bedroom. A few stunned, exhilarated selfies they’d taken with Arturo at the Oscars after-party. Photos of Megan (or both of them together) on the different occasions Francisco had been in LA. When they had their long-distance watch parties, they sometimes sent each other staged selfies of themselves reacting to various moments in the movie, and there were a couple of those in the cycle. Some pictures they’d taken at his parents’ house and on their drive to Mexico City.

There was even a screenshot Francisco had taken from a video DM Megan had sent him demonstrating how to make a Star Wars blaster sound with foley art. She blushed—if she’d known he was going to frame a picture of it, she wouldn’t have shot the video in her pajamas.

“huhhh-CHIOOOOO!” Megan sneezed into the crook of her arm. Wandering over to Francisco’s shelves, Megan examined his books, his odd assortment of knickknacks, and a few stray movies that had wound up over here. The books were all in Spanish, naturally, a mix of Latino authors and translations of English stories. Mostly fiction, with a few actor or director biographies and a bit of poetry mixed in.

As she meandered around the room, Megan pulled up short when she came to the ex-box. She traced her fingers along some of the painted boxes on the wooden box, thinking about the no-doubt perfect exes inside. “Crap,” she muttered, stifling a cough into her fist.

Determined not to get sucked into an insecurity vortex, Megan stuck her tongue out at the ex-box—yeah, real mature—and made her way to the living room, where she engrossed herself in Francisco’s movie collection. The titles were in Spanish, but a lot of DVD and BluRay covers were recognizable as films she knew. Mostly either Hollywood or Mexican stuff, with a smattering of various international films.

Francisco’s house was eclectic and homey. Megan discovered that each of his digital frames had a particular theme—the others appeared to be “family,” “friends,” “work,” and “travel.” She enjoyed peeking into his assortment of organizer bins and boxes. From what Megan could tell, he had an incredibly loose “system” of keeping track of his stuff. A bin might have mostly a single purpose, like cleaning supplies or old scripts, but random things would sneak their way in there too. 

It was clear how much Francisco liked things. Not really in a materialistic way or a hoarder way. More that objects had value for him. He had different pieces of folk art—wood carvings, pottery, etc—set up around the house, and different mementos found their way pretty much everywhere. Megan found the odd reminder of his visits to L.A.: a flier on the fridge from an all-night Tarantino marathon they’d gone to, a few shells from a weekend beach excursion in one of his boxes. He’d never have a picture-perfect Instagram-ready space, but it was a sweet habit.

By late afternoon, Megan was feeling tired again, but she wasn’t really in the mood to try for another nap. She wanted to be awake whenever Francisco got back from the studio. Instead, she took some more ibuprofen and lay down on the couch to rewatch The Good Place on Netflix. It wouldn’t be a great show for a sick-day first watch, since the storytelling was so layered and fast-moving, but revisiting it worked out well enough. Megan didn’t have to pay such close attention, and she could just enjoy the characters and their various dilemmas, adventures, and antics.

It was a little after 5:00 when Megan heard the door open. Smiling drowsily, she lifted her head to greet Francisco, but then she heard a forceful “hihhhhh-chiuhhhhhh!” from the hallway and got a sinking feeling in her stomach.

Francisco came into the living room, and one look at his face told Megan everything she needed to know. He came around the back of the couch, kissing the top of Megan’s head and saying, “How are you feeling?”, then plopped down heavily. He slumped forward a little, closing his eyes as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Okay,” Megan said gently. “...How ‘bout you?”

Francisco sighed, sniffling. “I have a cold too,” he admitted glumly. “Ahhhhhh…hehhhhhh-choooooo!” He bent forward, catching the sneeze in his hands.

Megan winced. “Salud. Were you feeling sick earlier?” she asked. She hadn’t seen any indication that Francisco was coming down with something.

He shook his head. “I felt fide this borning,” he told her. “When they were doing by bakeup, my throat started hurting, add I thought maybe it was just ad ‘I’ll be sick toborrow’ feeling, but thed it went very fast.” He sniffled again, rubbing his nose. “By throat, then tired add headache, add then by nose.”

You think any of his exes ever got him sick? It was a stupid, insecure thought that popped into Megan’s head without warning, and she waved it away. Not helpful right now.

She leaned over, kissing Francisco’s cheek and giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Ar-are you huhhhhh…aaahhhhh-SHIUHHHHHH!” She turned, pressing the back of her hand to her nose. “...Huggry?” she finished, sniffling.

Francisco made a noncommittal face. “The soup you bade this bording is really good,” Megan added. “You want sobe?”

He considered this, then sighed. “Yeah,” he said, preparing to get up.

But Megan said, “Doh, you sit. I’ll get it.” She rose, stifling a cough into her fist.

“I’be supposed to be taking care of you,” Francisco argued.

“Guess what? We t-- we take care of each oth-other,” Megan replied, sputtering with a few more coughs. She cleared her throat as she went to the kitchen and took some of that day’s leftover soup out of the fridge, an indulgently creamy number with cheese and potatoes. 

Megan realized that she knew where basically nothing was in the kitchen. Because she’d already been coming down with her cold on the day they arrived, Francisco had been waiting on her hand and foot. Even today, he’d left a bowl, a spoon, and multiple tupperware containers on the counter for her before he went to work. And her exploration of the house that afternoon hadn’t exactly extended to kitchen cabinets and drawers. She investigated now, looking around until she found the dishes she needed.

While she waited for the cheese and potato soup to microwave, Megan returned to the fridge, picking out the last of the chicken pozole for herself.

“hehhhhhh…ihhhhhhh-CHIAAHHHHHHH!” she sneezed into the crook of her arm.

Only a few seconds later, there came a wet-sounding “ahhhh-chiuhhhhhh!” from Francisco in the living room.

And yeah, Megan’s toes curled a bit. It was involuntary; he had incredible sneezes. Even as she was still feeling kinda crappy herself, even as she was kicking herself for giving Francisco a cold a couple weeks before he was going to be shooting a movie, and even as she was doing her best to ward off a mini inadequacy spiral prompted by the ex-box, she couldn’t help getting that turned-on tingle too.

Okay, not helping right now either, Megan!

She took Francisco’s soup out of the microwave and put hers in, punching the button before she carried his bowl back to the living room.

“Here we go,” Megan said, handing Francisco the soup and sitting back down beside him. “Caldo de queso y papas.”

Francisco glanced at her, managing a small smile. “Pretty good,” he remarked about her Spanish. He sniffled and tried a mouthful of his soup, wincing a little as he swallowed.

Megan’s breath started to hitch, and she reached for a Kleenex, sneezing a hard “ehhhhhh…ihhhhhhh…huhhhhh-SHIOOOOO!” The microwave dinged while she was wiping her nose. “Mmmb,” she mumbled, dragging herself back up to retrieve her soup.

When she returned, Francisco was swirling his spoon around in his bowl. “Okay?” she asked, sniffling until she could set her bowl on the end table and rub her nose.

“Yeah,” Francisco replied, without much conviction. “It’s very good.”

It was sweet—he was the one who’d been making soup for the last four days, but he made the compliment as if it was Megan’s credit for bringing it to him.

She put her arm around him, softly playing with his hair. “Dod’t feel like you have to eat all of it if you’re dot huggry or your throat hurts too buch,” she told him. “Just eat what you cad.”

Francisco nodded, his expression growing hazy. He clapped a hand over his mouth. “Hhhhhhh-shhhuhhhhhhh!”

With the close proximity, Megan could feel how his muscles tensed when he sneezed. Sternly, she sent the gaaaah, so hot! part of her brain off to play in the corner while she handled more pressing matters.

“I’be sorry,” she said. “I really didded’t bead to get you sick.”

“¡Ay, doh!” Francisco exclaimed. “I’be making you feel bad.” He turned, kissing her temple. “Igdore me, please. I’be just, uh, how do you say it, crangky?”

Megan couldn’t help but smile. She sniffled, rubbing her nose. “Crandky?” she said.

“Yes—I’be just being cranky because I’be tired,” Francisco told her.

Megan wouldn’t have come close to describing Francisco’s mood as ‘cranky,’ but he was definitely disheartened. It was rare to see him feeling genuinely low, and she made an executive decision to try and help instead of sitting there feeling guilty about it.

“S-slee-heee…ehhhhhh-CHUHHHHHH!” Megan sneezed, rocking forward as she cupped her hands over her mouth. She stifled a cough, trying to get her momentum back. “Sleepy tired?”

“Kide of,” Francisco said, sniffling. “But bore the other kind.”

Megan nodded. “Word out.”

“Yeah, that one,” Francisco agreed.

“Do you want to go to bed after you fidish eating?” she suggested.

Francisco sighed, wearily rubbing his face. “Yeah, I thidk so,” he decided.

“That’s fide,” Megan assured him. “Baya add the Three will still be there toborrow if you feel up for it.”

“O-okay…” he said, trailing off into a hard “huhhhhhhh-choooooooo!”

“You cad have your bedroob back,” she added.

“Mmb, that’s a good thing about being sick at the sabe tibe,” Francisco observed. “We cad—” he sniffled, “—share the bed.”

By the time Megan finished her soup, Francisco was still working on his, so she got things ready in the bedroom, taking the Kleenex box from the kitchen and a wastebasket from the bathroom to set up on his side of the bed. Then she got herself ready for the night.

Francisco made his way to the bedroom, sniffling and rubbing his nose. God, he was beautiful. Megan offered him a sympathetic smile. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Sounds good,” he said. A little clumsily, he stripped down to a T-shirt and his boxer briefs, then climbed into bed. Megan slipped in beside him, and he pulled her in for a drowsy cuddle. “Is this okay?”

Definitely! “Yeah,” Megan told him.

In truth, she felt a little warm and didn’t really need the extra body heat, but no way was she going to turn down the opportunity to snuggle with a glum, sniffly Francisco. She cozied into his arms, cupping her hands over her mouth to catch a “haaahhhhh-ihhhhh-SHUHHHHHHH!”

“Mmb,” Francisco mumbled, already sounding sleepy. “Sa-- salu-ud….” His breath hitched a little, and he tensed with a hard “hihhhhh-shiahhhhh!”

“Salud,” Megan echoed.

The jury was out on how much sleep she’d be able to get with Francisco sneezing and sniffling in bed beside her, which Megan was absolutely fine with. For his sake, she hoped he would get a good night’s sleep and feel in better spirits in the morning.

[2SHY222]

Her inner dialog is super relatable. Can't wait for more 🥰

[ichixshiro14]

Yayyy time for more caretaking of Francisco!! I don't have much brain power right now but I wanted to comment so you know I enjoyed the update ❤️

[angora48]

Thanks for the comments, I really appreciate it! Here's Part 6.

 

As Megan slowly came into awareness of being awake, she yawned, stretching a little in bed. Her head felt muddled and drowsy. Beside her, she heard a muffled “hihhhhh-chhhhhhh! Hehhhhhh-shhhnnfffhhhhh!”

She rolled over and looked at Francisco, who still had his hand pressed to his nose. “Salud,” she said.

Francisco managed a quick glance her way before he burst with another sneeze, a strong “AAAAHHHH-hihhhhhh-chiooooo!” He sniffled, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry,” he said. “Did I wake you?”

Sexy. As. Hell. “Doh, I was already awake,” Megan assured him. She sniffled too, and Francisco held his arm out to her. She let herself be drawn in. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Francisco told her. Before Megan could beg to differ, he added, “Last dight, I was, I dod’t doh, kide of sad. It’s a lot better dow.”

“Ah,” Megan replied. “You bead better e-ehhhhh…” She cupped her hands over her mouth. “huhhhhhh-ehhhhhh-SHOOOOOO! Mmb—you bead better eboshudally.”

“Right, yeah,” Francisco said.

She coughed hard into her fist. “Dot so buch physically?”

That cute lopsided smile again. “Dot so buch,” he admitted. “By dose is, um, it’s very blocked add itchy. By throat hurts a lot.”

Listening to him describe his symptoms in that congested voice made Megan’s stomach do a satisfied flip. “How’d you sleep?”

“Dot vehhh-- very g-good…” Francisco said as his breath started to hitch. He sneezed a loud “hihhhhhh-SHIAHHHHHH!” into his hand.

Megan winced. “Salud—did by coughing keep you up?”

“Doh, it wasn’t that,” Francisco replied. He groped on the nightstand for a tissue, then wiped his nose. “I was tired, but I coulded’t really sleep a lot. I dod’t doh why.”

Megan nodded. “I felt you tossing add turding last dight,” she remarked.

Francisco sniffled. “What about you?”

Megan could feel herself blushing. “Oh, ub, I slept okay,” she said.

“That’s good,” he replied, kissing her temple.

Francisco had fallen asleep pretty fast night—he’d clearly felt wiped out—but like he said, he’d been restless. By contrast, Megan had lain awake for a long time listening to his sneezes, sniffles, and quiet groans. Although she slept decently once she finally nodded off, it had taken her quite a while to get there.

Not that she would’ve had it any other way. Those sniffles, my god!

“Well, I’be glad you’re doing better ‘eboshudally,’” Megan told Francisco, smiling as she snuggled up against his chest. She sniffled. “I doh you felt pretty dowd last dight.”

Francisco cleared his throat. “‘Dowd’?” he asked, pointing down to confirm that he’d heard her right.

“Oh—yeah,” Megan said. “Id Egglish, ‘up’ is associated with happy eboshuds: upbeat, id high spirits, add so od. Add thed ‘dowd’ is for udhappy eboshuds: like, feeling dowd or feee-heeeling lo-ow…”

Francisco handed her a tissue just before the sneeze hit her. “ehhhhh-CHOOOOO-uhhhhhh!”

He gave her a squeeze, kissing her forehead. “I like that,” he said, “‘up’ add ‘dowd.’ Yes, I was bore dowd last dight, but—” he sniffled, “—but dow I’be okay.”

“Good,” Megan said. She coughed into the back of her hand.

“What do you want for breakfast?” Francisco asked. “hehhhhh…ihhhhh-CHIUHHHHH!”

“Oh doh, you dod’t,” Megan told him. “I’ll bake breakfast. You are officially dud cooking udtil you’re feeling better.” She pushed herself up to a sitting position, catching a hard “huhhhhhh-SHIOOOOO!” in her hand.

“Hey,” Francisco protested softly, “just because I’be sick dow, that’s dot sobe sudded bagic to bake you better.” He sniffled, rubbing his nose. “You’re still sick too.”

“Well, lucky for us, you do the bost,” Megan teased, leaning down to kiss his temple. “We’ve got eduff leftover soup to eat for days, with options! After all your hard work over the last few days, breakfast is the least I cad do, okay?”

He frowned a little. “I guess that’s okay,” he conceded. He rubbed his throat, wincing.

Megan kissed him once more, on the cheek this time. “Since you didn’t sleep well, you stay here add try to rest a bit bore. I’ll get us sobething to eat.”

Francisco nodded. Megan brushed his cheek with her thumb, and he smiled.

Megan’s own kitchen wasn’t her best friend under ideal circumstances. Being at something of a loss in somebody else’s kitchen, when she had a headache and a runny nose, wasn’t her idea of a good time. “aaaahhhhh-CHIUHHHHH!” she sneezed, cupping her hands over her mouth.

Stifling a sigh, Megan washed her hands, then pulled open every drawer and cabinet door, getting the lay of the land. Then, between the pantry and the fridge, she took stock of what Francisco had on hand. (Besides soup. Bless him, he made so much soup.)

She felt a bit intimidated to try anything involving rice and beans—Megan didn’t know how to make those in a breakfast way—and while eggs were simple enough, she didn’t know what spices Francisco put on them. Annoyingly, the ex-box popped into her head again, and she thought, His exes probably know what he likes on his eggs.

After googling a couple recipes, Megan chickened out on attempting to cook. Instead, she found a cutting board and a knife and started putting together a small fruit platter, cutting up a mango, a pineapple, and a papaya. Whenever she had to sneeze or cough, she turned away from the counter, burying it in the crook of her arm.

Megan set the platter, a pair of forks, and two fresh glasses of water on a tray and carried it to the bedroom. Francisco met her eyes with a drowsy smile. “Hi,” he said.

Megan grinned back. “Hehh-hh-hey…” she told him, trailing off as her breath started to hitch.

Francisco scrambled up, taking the tray from Megan before she sneezed an explosive “huhhhh-CHUHHHHHH!” into her hands.

“Salud,” Francisco said, kissing her cheek. “This looks very good.” They sat up in bed, sharing the tray between both their laps as they had their fruit breakfast. 

Francisco had switched the lamp on, so Megan could get a better look at him. As he’d told her, his cold had come on pretty fast yesterday, and now it was plain on his face. He looked tired and peaky, and his nostrils were already a little chapped. He seemed in good spirits, but there was no question of how sick he felt. His voice sounded hoarse, and his nose didn’t seem like it’d be letting up any time soon.

“hihhhhh-SHIOOOOOO!” he sneezed, burying his nose in a tissue. “ihhhhh…ehhhhh-CHIUHHHH!”

Good lord. Megan wasn’t quite as runaway horny when she felt tired and stuffed up herself, but he was just unspeakably attractive.

She tsked lightly, kissing his neck. “You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Francisco replied, flashing her a smile as he swallowed a small congested sigh. “Just sdeezing so buch.”

“Yeah you are,” Megan said, guiding his head onto her shoulder. Francisco sniffled wetly, which gave her a warm feeling down to her toes.

She speared another piece of mango and offered it to him. Smiling, he ate it off her fork.

Francisco remarked, “The way you take care of people ihh-ihhhh…” he paused, sneezing a hard “ahhhhh-CHIOOOO!” into his hand. “It’s really special,” he said. “I liked that about you the first tibe we bet. So gedtle, but—” he sniffled a few times, “—but dot like baking it idto a big thing either. Just very sweet add with a lot of attedshud.”

Megan didn’t know whether to blush at that compliment or just die happy. “Doh wud likes feeling sick,” she pointed out. Hell, even her kinky ass would rather see someone else sneeze than be sick herself. “I just try to bake it a little easier.”

Francisco nodded, sniffling again as he rubbed his nose. “You’re very good at it,” he told her.

Dying happy. Definitely dying happy.

[angora48]

Part 7.

 

After they finished their breakfast, Francisco asked, “Do you wadt to watch bore Baya add the Three dow?”

Megan smiled at him. “Souds good, as long as you’re up for it.”

“Yes,” Francisco told her. Now that she’d explained up and down feelings, he understood what she meant. “I’be very up.”

“Perfect,” Megan replied. As she slid off the bed, she gasped a little and pressed her face into her shoulder. “ehhhhhh-CHOOOO-uhhhh!” She sniffled. “Let be put the rest of the fruit away.”

She took the tray and headed off to the kitchen, and Francisco slowly got up and out of bed. He was still tired, and his head felt fuzzy and achy. There was a sharp persistent pain in his throat, and his stuffed-up nose never fully stopped feeling itchy. It was really uncomfortable—it was like he had at least 30% of a need-to-sneeze feeling at all times, and any little thing could tip it over the edge.

Like now, for instance. “ihhhhhh-SHOOOOO!” he sneezed into the crook of his arm. “hehhhh-uhhhhh-SHIUHHHHHH!”

The last few days, Megan had been staying in her pajamas and just putting socks on during the day. That sounded good to Francisco. Clearing his throat, he crossed to his dresser and grabbed a soft pair of socks, along with a pair of pajama pants—he felt a little chilly, so he didn’t want to spend the day in just his boxer briefs. Realizing he’d probably start feeling wobbly if he tried to get dressed standing up, he returned to the bed and sat down.

A text came in while he was pulling on his pajama pants. Francisco tapped his phone and looked at the message: it was from Arturo.

Hey mano, what’s happening? Is Megan feeling better yet? We need to hang out soon!

Francisco buried a hard “IHHHHH-chiuhhhhh!” in his shoulder. He wriggled his nose a little as he wrote a reply.

Sorry, it’s gonna be a while longer. I caught it too

He added a couple emojis to go with it, one with a thermometer in its mouth and one that was blowing its nose. Arturo’s reply came quickly.

No, that sucks man!!!

You’re such a lightweight

You need anything? You know I got you

Francisco smiled and texted back.

No, we’ve got it. But thanks (heart-hands)

I’ll hit you up when we’re both feeling better

He sneezed again, a strong “haahhhhhh-CHIOOOOOO! ehhhhh-SHUHHHHH!” into the crook of his arm. He sniffled, rubbing his nose with the back of his wrist, and started putting on his socks. There was another buzz on his phone as Arturo replied again.

Okay, get well soon OR ELSE!!!, accompanied by a flurry of hearts and praying hands.

Francisco sent back kissing-face and winking-face emojis and finished getting dressed. He’d just pulled on his second sock when he heard Megan coughing as she came back down the hall. “I doh,” he said sheepishly. “I’be being slow.”

“That’s called being sick,” Megan replied. Sniffling, she walked over to the bed and kissed his temple. “Do you have a headache? D-do-ooo…” She paused. “ehhhh-CHIOOOO! Mmb–do you wadt sobe bedicide?”

Francisco stifled a sigh. For as long as he could remember, it had been hard for him to swallow pills, and his tendency to get bad sore throats didn’t make that any easier. “Doh, it’s okay for dow,” he said. “Baybe l-laaay…ehhhhhh…hihhhhh-NNKKHHHH!” He clamped his hand over his nose and mouth. “Baybe later, if it gets worse,” he repeated.

“Okay,” Megan agreed. After taking a couple aspirin herself, she gave him a hand up. Francisco tossed her her pillow and picked up his own, then thought to grab a throw blanket from the foot of the bed before they headed to the living room.

They settled onto the couch with their pillows, and Francisco threw the blanket over his shoulders. “We should take a picture,” he decided. “A being-sick selfie.”

“O-oh,” Megan said, looking a bit nervous. “Are you sure?” She raised a hand to her messy hair.

“Odly if you wadt to, but yeah,” Francisco replied, taking her hand. “But leave your hair, please. I thidk it’s cute.”

She smiled shyly at him. “Yours is cute too-ooo…” she said, tensing as she trailed off into a loud “ahhhhh-CHIUHHHHHHHH!”

“Salud,” Francisco said, kissing her cheek. “Cobe here.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her in close to him. Resting his chin on her shoulder and his head against her cheek in a comfortably drowsy pose, he opened his camera and positioned the shot.

“What do you thidk?” he asked, sniffling. “It’s okay?”

On his phone, Megan smiled. “Yeah,” she said, nodding.

“Okay, great,” Francisco replied. “One, two, three!” He snapped the photo, then brought his phone closer so they could look at it, one arm slung over Megan’s shoulder.

“I-I…it’s really dice,” Megan said, looking down at the picture. Sniffling, she rubbed her nose.

“I like it too,” Francisco said, grinning. “Here, I-I-ahhhhhh…” He turned away, pressing an “ehhhhh-SHIOOOOOO!” into his shoulder. “I’ll send it to you.”

He texted the photo to Megan, then dropped his phone on the end table. Holding a corner of the throw blanket in either hand, Francisco gave her an affectionate squeeze, wrapping both of them in the blanket as he kissed her neck. She seemed to melt into his arms, and Francisco was glad that she seemed so content.

“Baya add the Three?” he asked.

Megan nodded, and he could hear the smile in her voice as she agreed, “Baya add the Three.”

[funbusej]

Aww, they are so cute!! And Megan...don't worry girl, you got this.  Just remember:  everyone in the EX box, is there for a reason...While you aren't.  And Francisco seems to plan on keeping it that way.  

[angora48]

Thanks, @funbusej! I really appreciate the comment. 😊

Here's Part 8!

 

“Oh by god,” Megan breathed, and Francisco couldn’t help smiling. She was curled up beside him on the couch, and they’d just finished episode 4.

“I bead—just, whoa,” she said.

Francisco loved the delight in her eyes. He said, “You see why I was excited f-fo-oh-hehhhhhh-uhhhhh-SHIUUHHHH!” He had his arm around Megan, and as he sneezed, his body tensed automatically, pulling her in a little closer. 

He sniffled, clearing his throat. “...Why I was excited for you to see it,” he said.

“Absolutely,” Megan replied. “The characters are just—god, I thidk I’d die for Chimi.”

Francisco grinned. “Yeah, she’s by favorite too,” he said. He sniffled again; the itch in his nose was tickling at him. “I love characters who are-- who are very tough, b-but also, like, uh-uhhb…” he wriggled his nose, “...vulderahh-able?”

The sneeze finally teased its way out. Francisco pressed the back of his hand to his mouth. “hihhhhhh-CHIOOOOO!”

“Salud,” Megan said, tsking softly. “That tracks. I bead, you love Furiosa.”

“Who doesd’t love Furiosa?” Francisco replied.

Megan smiled. “Valid.” He could feel her tensing with a coming sneeze. “hehhhhhh-CHUHHHHHH! ehhhhh-SHIOOOO-uhhhhh!”

Francisco kissed her forehead. “What do you thidk?” he asked. “Keep going?”

“Hell, yeah!” Megan told him. “We’ve odly bet two warriors so far, but it’s Baya add the Three. We cad’t stop dow!”

By the time they finished episode 5, they were ready to eat: chicken chili for Francisco and caldo de queso for Megan. As they discussed the miniseries so far, Francisco didn’t mind the frequent sneezes that interrupted him. Having a cold at home with Megan was much better than having one at the studio. He felt sick but comfortable.

Megan seemed more comfortable too, which made Francisco happy. Maybe his runny nose made her feel less embarrassed about her own. She wasn’t apologizing to him anymore, although she was pretty insistent on doing most of the caretaking today. She fussed with Francisco’s blanket and was the one to get up for the soup, and more than once, she’d brushed her hand against his cheek in a way that he guessed was a nonchalant attempt to see if he had a fever. (Although she should talk—she’d been a little feverish herself for the past few days.)

She was much more open to cuddling and kissing now, enjoying their lowkey day of being sick together. Francisco knew that some people just didn’t want anyone else around them when they were sick, and he could respect that, but it was clear that that wasn’t Megan. She’d just been putting space between them because of the germs. But now that Francisco had caught a cold too, she seemed to relish the comfort and affection. All morning, she’d practically lived in his arms. Making up for lost time?

“Do you wadt to take a dap after this?” Megan asked as they sat on the couch with their caldos. She lifted her bowl to her lips to sip from the brim—there was something really cute about that.

“Eh, baybe,” Francisco said. “I th-thidk…” He paused. “Ehhhhh-huhhhhh-chooooo! Mmb….” He sniffled, rubbing his nose. “I bight just lie dowd out here.”

“You sure?” Megan asked with a frown. “It’s a dice couch add all, b--” she coughed, “--but the bed would be bore--” more coughing, “--bore cobfor-- fortable.” She held her pillow to her face, coughing into it.

Francisco winced in sympathy. “I’ll get you sobe bore water.”

As he made to get up, Megan put a hand on his arm. “I c-- can get it--” she said, still sputtering.

“Doh chadce,” he replied, kissing her temple. “We take care of each other, rebebber? You have to let be do things for you too.”

He rose, catching a hard “aaahhhh-hehhhhhh-CHIUHHHHHH!” in his hand, and grabbed Megan’s glass off the end table.

Francisco refilled Megan’s water and returned to the couch, where she was still trying to stifle coughs into the back of her hand. She gratefully accepted the water and took slow sips. Francisco sat down beside her, rubbing her back until the coughing died down.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She nodded. Her eyes were watering, and she wiped them with the back of her wrist.

Francisco kissed her temple again and drew her close for a warm hug. “I’be lucky I dod’t have a cough like that,” he said.

Megan sniffled, rubbing her nose. “Your throat hurts eduff as it is, right?”

“Well…” Francisco replied, offering her a sheepish smile. She kissed his cheek.

“Okay, but is that why you wadt t-to…” Megan paused as she drew in a sharp breath. “aaahhhh-SHOOOO-ehhhhh! Mmb—to dap od the couch? It’s too hard to sleep with by coughing?”

“Doh, I told you this bording it doesd’t bother be,” Francisco reminded her, picking up his soup again. “I just,” he sniffled, “I dod’t really dap a lot. Eved if I’be tired, ihh-- it’s hard to sleep ihh-id the day…” The itch in his nose got the better of him, and he raised a hand to his mouth. “huhhhhh-CHUHHHH!”

He sniffled. “So I thought I could just lie od the couch add put od a bovie. Like, baybe it would distract be…” another sneeze, “hihhh-uhhhhh-SHOOOOO! Mmb—add I could go to sleep that way.”

“Got it,” Megan replied. “Too hard to dap? I dod’t doh that life.” She smiled at him cutely.

“Yeah, you’re very good at daps,” Francisco said. He reached over to tuck a rogue curl behind her ear.

Megan chuckled. She blew on her spoon before having another mouthful of her soup. “Whed I’be sick, at least.”

When they finished eating, Megan took care of the dishes. Before heading to the bedroom for her nap, she kissed the top of Francisco’s head, reaching to hug him from the back of the couch.

“I’be godda go lie dowd,” she said. “I hope you cad sleep.”

“Be too,” Francisco replied, smiling. He took her hand and kissed it.

As Megan walked down the hall, Francisco heard her sneeze a strong “haahhhh-CHIOOOO!”

“Salud!” he called over his shoulder. As he got up to find a good movie to put on, he was hit with a sneeze too. “Hihhhh-shiaahhhhhhh! Mmb….”

Francisco cleared his throat, sniffling. He picked out Amores perros, a perennial favorite of his, and popped it in the BluRay player.

His nose was still bothering him. “ehhhhh-CHIUHHHHH! Huhhhh-shooooo!” he sneezed on his way back to the couch, burying them in his shoulder.

Francisco sighed a little, grabbing a tissue and sitting down on the couch to blow his nose. He started the movie, then set his pillow on one end of the couch so he could lie down. He stretched out and pulled the throw blanket over himself, rubbing his aching forehead as he let his eyes fall closed.

As he listened to the familiar sounds of the opening scene of Amores perros, sniffling, he hoped it would lull him to sleep.

[bearwax]

Wow. You have a fantastic style of writing and I feel like I can’t get enough! Thank you so much for sharing so far! These two…. 🙈🙈🙈

[ichixshiro14]

They're so adorable!! I'm happy Megan is getting more comfortable now that they're both sick, the domesticity is so nice ❤️ 

[angora48]

On 8/17/2024 at 3:14 PM, bearwax said:

Wow. You have a fantastic style of writing and I feel like I can’t get enough! Thank you so much for sharing so far! These two…. 🙈🙈🙈

Aww, thank you so much! This made my day. 😊

On 8/17/2024 at 7:04 PM, ichixshiro14 said:

They're so adorable!! I'm happy Megan is getting more comfortable now that they're both sick, the domesticity is so nice ❤️ 

Yep, I'm all about the domesticity! 😁

Here's Part 9!

 

Megan woke up a little after 4:00. She sat up groggily, stifling a yawn. Her nose was feeling runny; she reached for a Kleenex.

Wiping her nose, she climbed out of bed, pushing her curls out of her eyes and padding softly down the hall to the living room. A DVD menu screen was up on the TV, and when she came around to the front of the couch, Megan was met with the welcome sight of Francisco dozing. He seemed a little restless, sniffling and murmuring to himself, but he was definitely sleeping.

“Hhhhhhh-shhhnnnffff!” Megan clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her sneeze, not wanting to wake him.

Quietly, Megan turned off the TV, got herself some more water from the kitchen to (hopefully!) keep her from coughing too much, and then curled up in a chair across the room. With a dopey smile on her face, she admired her sick, sleeping boyfriend.

He was just gorgeous with a cold, with mussed hair and a reddish nose. His voice had been low and hoarse all day, so stuffed up that it made Megan shiver. She was glad that he was in more of his usual mood today, even if he still obviously felt tired and sick—she’d felt bad for him last night, when he was so glum and downhearted. Not to mention, when he was too miserable, it seemed in poor taste to lust after him.

She muffled a hard “hihhhh-shhhhh!” into a Kleenex, smiling fondly as Francisco stirred in his sleep. Megan had of course taken care of sick boyfriends before, and vice versa, but she didn’t think it had ever been quite like this. Because even apart from the kinky-goodness aspect, there was something genuinely romantic about curling up on the couch with Francisco while they watched movies, ate soup, and wiped their noses.

It wasn’t just how absurdly hot Francisco was, although that definitely helped. It was something in his manner, how sweetly attentive he was to Megan and how he was equal parts good-natured and sheepish about himself. He was a little self-conscious but not whiny or surly, and he wasn’t at all annoyed or grossed out by Megan’s sneezing and coughing.

It was clear how much he wanted to help—help Megan feel better and simply help her feel comfortable. Keep her company, make her soup, shower her with affection. And in turn, her deliciously tactile boyfriend happily soaked up all the physical affection she wanted to show him.

There was something so lovely about him rubbing his nose while resting his head on her shoulder. About his slow congested breaths when he lay in bed beside her. About his gentle tsks when she rested her head on his chest and stifled coughs. About him squeezing her a little tighter when he sneezed. About him kissing her despite her runny nose, about his smile when she kissed his forehead.

It occurred to Megan that, because she couldn’t picture any of Francisco’s hypothetical perfect exes being sick and messy, or getting him sick, that she couldn’t imagine him ever having an experience like this before either. Was this something special, just between the two of them?

Megan sat like that for about 20 minutes, alternately scrolling on her phone and watching Francisco sleep. Then, with a hard “hahhhhh-ihhhhhh-SHUHHHH!”, he woke, blinking sleepily as he rubbed his nose.

“Hey,” Megan said softly.

His drowsy expression grew a little more focused, and he looked at her, smiling. “Hey,” he replied. His breath started to hitch again. “Ehhhh…hehhhhh…ihhhhh-shioooooo!”

“Salud,” Megan said, getting up and walking over to the couch as he sat up to make room for her. He held up the edge of the blanket, but she shook her head. “I’be good.”

Francisco tsked, kissing her forehead. “You still have a little fever?” he asked.

“I thidk so,” Megan admitted, “but it’s also just warb out. hihhhhhh-SHIUHHHHHH!” The sneeze burst out of her without any buildup, and she only just had time to cover her mouth.

Francisco kissed her again. “Is the bedicide od the table by the bed?” he asked, rubbing his temples. “I guess I should take sobe before we keep watching the bidiseries.”

“I’ll get it,” Megan told him. “Do you deed bore water?”

Francisco looked at his glass on the end table. “Yeah,” he said, sniffling. “Okay, I’ll get that, add you get the bedicide.”

They both rose from the couch, Megan heading to the bedroom while Francisco crossed to the kitchen. When they returned, Megan shook a couple ibuprofen into her palm for him. He took them one at a time, wincing as he swallowed each one with a swig of water.

Megan rubbed his shoulder sympathetically. “How’s your throat?” she asked.

“Very paidful,” Francisco replied. “ahhhhhh-CHIOOOOO!” He sniffled. “It, ub, whed it hurts a lot, it–how do you say it? It’s like it gets smballer add tighter, add it’s hard to swallow.”

Megan nodded. “Swolledd,” she told him.

“Yes, it’s that,” he agreed.

“That sucks,” Megan said. She snuggled up to him, and he let his head fall onto her shoulder. “Ready t-tooo…” She turned her head, cupping her hands over her mouth. “Ehhhh-SHOOOO-uhhhhh!” She sniffled, clearing her throat. “Ready to watch sobe bore?”

“Of course!” Francisco replied. He pulled his Netflix up again, and they dove back into the show.

[Privatedancer]

What a lovely update   I just love the care taking!  

[angora48]

Thank you so much @Privatedancer!

Part 10.

 

They had four episodes to go on Maya and the Three, so they didn’t waste time. It had taken Megan a little while to get into the series, but once she did, she was all in. As Maya, her new friends, and a dishy demigod sat around the fire sharing stories from their lives, it occurred to Megan that she’d die for any one of these beautiful, broken warriors. When did that happen?

Cuddling on the couch together, they watched the rest of the show—laughing at the jokes, gushing at the cool animation, and getting sucked in by the emotional parts. When they hit the big climax of episode 9, Megan felt herself tearing up. She heard a wet sniffle, and when she looked up from resting her head on Francisco’s shoulder, he was wiping his eyes too.

“Kleedex?” she suggested softly.

As he noticed her looking, he let out a sheepish laugh. He grabbed the Kleenex box on the end table and held it out to her, then took one for himself.

It wasn’t full-on A Little Princess ugly crying, but it was pretty damn good, the sort of scene that was tragic and triumphant and uplifting all at once. As they watched to the end, Megan’s heart felt like it was brimming.

As the end credits rolled, Megan and Francisco turned to each other and laughed about being sappy. He brushed a few stray tears off her cheek and she did the same for him, then settled into his arms.

“Okay, I doh there was doh singing,” Megan said, “b-buhhhh…” She sneezed a “hihhhhh-SHIAAHHHH!” into her steepled hands. “But that was better thad The Book of Life.”

“I doh, right?” Francisco enthused. “Add that’s bovie’s so good, ¿no?”

Megan nodded, her eyelids fluttering as another sneeze started tickling at her. “ehhhhh…hehhhhh-CHIOOOO!” She rubbed her nose. “What’s the director’s dabe agaid?”

“Jorge R. Gutiérrez,” Francisco told her. “I thidk he’s wud of the best for addibation. His stuff is-- it’s s-so great…” The force of his “IHHHH-huhhhhh-choooo!” made him rock forward a little, and Megan with him.

“Salud,” Megan said. “His style is just like, everything, you doh? Like, all the jokes, all the actshud, all the feels.” She cleared her throat. “It’s really fast add fuddy, but thed the serious bobents hit you like, whoa!”

“Exactly,” Francisco agreed, sniffling as he nodded.

They discussed their favorite characters, character designs (which was a related but not identical topic,) moments, lines, fights, and more. Francisco was the most animated Megan had seen him since he’d started feeling sick, talking with his hands and smiling brightly despite the winces from his sore throat.

“Look, this is godda soud so obdoxiously Abericad,” Megan remarked, “but it’s things like this—add The Book of Life add Coco—that helped me udderstadd how death is viewed in Bexicad culture. Is that horrible, tha-aaahhhh…ihhhhhhh-SHOOOOOO!” She caught the sneeze in her hand. “That I leard this stuff frob Detflix add Pixar?”

Francisco sniffled. “Doh, I get it,” he said. “That’s actually really good. I bead, id the the States, they dod’t teach you a lot about Latid Aberica, so it’s abazing to have stories like this, bade by Bexicad Abericads, to help you udderstadd this culture add have—you doh, to have ebpathy for it.”

“Aww, thadks!” Megan replied, teasing. “Odly you could see the bright side of Abericad igdorance.”

Francisco made to answer, but from his hazy expression, he needed to sneeze first. “ehhhh…huhhhh-CHUHHHHH! Mmb….” Megan grabbed a tissue for him, and he wiped his nose. “Dever bide that,” he said. “Tell be what you like about it.”

“I really like the idea that death is just adother side of life,” Megan said. “I bead, it doesd’t change how buch it hurts whed the characters lose people—it’s just as-- as heartbreaking.” Coughing, she grabbed her water and took a drink.

“But wudce they get a little distadce frob that heartache,” Megan went on, “it’s just like, yeah, that’s still by brother, by dad, whoever. They’re still part of the fabily, they’re just id the afterlife dow. I cad honor add rebebber theb while I’be here, aa-aaahhhh…hihhhhhh-CHIOOOOO!” She caught the sneeze in her cupped hands. 

“Ad-add whed I die, we’ll all be together agaid,” she continued, rubbing her nose. “It’s albost–like, it’s sort of casual, but id a way that feels idtimbate. I like that a lot.”

Francisco smiled. “I like hearing you talk about it,” he said. “For be, it’s just wha-whahhh-huhhhh-CHOOOO-ehhhhh!” He bent forward, sneezing hard in his cupped hands. “It’s just what I grew up with,” he said, sniffling. “You doh, just dorbal.” His breath started to hitch again. “ahhhhh…ehhhhh-SHIUHHHHHHH!”

“Salud,” Megan told him. 

He smiled sheepishly, wiping his nose. “You’ll still be here for Día de Buertos,” Francisco pointed out. “You caaahhh-- can see wh-whuhhh…” He trailed off. “hihhhhh-SHUHHHHHH! Hehhhhh-uhhhhhh-choooooo! Mmb….” He stifled a small groan. “...See what it’s really like,” he finished. “hehhhh…EHHHHH-hihhhhh-chuhhhhhh!”

Hot damn. “...You okay?” Megan managed, finding her voice.

“Yeah,” Francisco replied, a bit breathlessly. “It’s just-- it’s by do-ose…aaahhhhh-CHIUHHHHH!” He let out a congested sigh. “¡Ay!”

As he pulled a few tissues from the box, Megan held the back of her hand to Francisco’s neck. “Hey, do you have a therbobeter sobewhere?” she asked.

“Ub, id the bathroob,” he replied. “It’s id wud of the drawers. D-dahhh-hehhhhh-shioooooo!” He buried his nose in the Kleenexes. “Dot the top wud—I thidk it’s id the biddle wud.”

“Okay,” Megan said, somehow standing up instead of collapsing into a satisfied sex puddle as he sneezed again.

“huhhhhh-ihhhhh-SHUHHHHHH!”

In the bathroom, Megan stood at the counter for a second and splashed a little water on her face. She hadn’t been expecting that sort of gut punch of arousal while she was still sick herself. 

“Okay,” she murmured to herself, “therbobeter.”

She rummaged through the drawers in the bathroom counter until she found the prize she was after. By the time she got back to the living room, Francisco was blowing his nose.

“Hey, you foud it?” he asked. His voice sounded raspy.

“Yep,” Megan said, sitting back down on the couch. She offered him the thermometer.

“What—for be?” he asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

“Yes, you,” Megan teased. “Which wud of us just sdeezed like eight tibes id wud bidute?”

“That was just by dose,” Francisco pointed out, throwing his Kleenexes in the wastebasket. But he accepted the thermometer and popped it in his mouth, still sniffling.

That was a tricky part about both of them being sick. Megan could normally get a decent ballpark on a boyfriend’s temperature at a touch, but when she was a little feverish too, it threw her off.

The thermometer beeped, and Francisco looked at the display. “Thirty eight point wud,” he told her.

Oh right—Celsius. “What does that be-ead…?” Megan asked. “hihhhhhh-SHIOOOOO!” she sneezed into her hand.

“It’s like hardly a fever,” Francisco told her. “Just barely.”

“Still, you should take it easy,” Megan said. “You rebebber how sick I was after our first day here?”

“Mmb,” Francisco mumbled, wincing a little (from his headache or his sore throat?) “Baybe you’re right.”

“Of course I ab,” Megan joked. She checked the time on her phone. “Shit, it’s after 8:00. We’ve beed talking for like ad hour,” she sputtered into a few coughs, “add we haved’t eated yet.”

She got up again and headed toward the kitchen. “What kide of soup do you wadt?”

“I dod’t know,” Francisco replied. “Wha-haahhh…AAAHHHHH-shiuhhhhhh!” He sniffled, clearing his throat. “Whatever is the easiest to swallow.”

“Looks like there’s eduff for wud bore bowl of the chayote,” Megan told him, consulting the fridge. “How does that soud?”

“Yeah, that’s good,” Francisco said. He’d gotten up and wandered into the kitchen too, pulling a pair of bowls out of the cabinet.

“Go sit dowd, I’ve got it,” Megan said. “Y-you…” She turned away, pressing her nose into the crook of her arm. “hihhhhhh-CHIOOOOOO! You’ve got a fever.”

“You too,” Francisco reminded her.

He had a point, and it wasn’t fair to expect Megan to think straight while he was sniffling like that. So she just drawled, “Fide,” handing him the container for the chayote soup.

While Francisco’s supper was in the microwave, Megan got out the container of chili for herself, scooping some of it into the bowl he handed her. “hehhhhh-ihhhhh-SHUHHHHH!” she sneezed again.

Standing behind Megan, Francisco wrapped his arms around her, kissing her neck. “Salud,” he murmured, sniffling in her ear. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was doing it on purpose.

Francisco drew in a quavering breath. “Huhhhh…ehhhhhh…” He turned his head, half letting go of Megan so he could catch the “hihhhhhhh-chiuhhhhhhh!” in his shoulder. Then he was back, giving her a squeeze.

Megan was in the midst of an out-of-body experience at the moment, but she managed to say, “S-salud yourself.”

Standing there in the kitchen with Francisco’s arms around her, waiting for the microwave to ding, Megan was hard pressed to remember the last time she’d felt so content.

[Privatedancer]

This got me excited for my upcoming trip to Mexico.  It will be my first time there for Asia de Los Muertos and now I want to watch The Book Of Life.  
 

I hope Megan gets better and is it wrong to hop Francisco gets worse so he really needs Megan?  

And please don’t forget about the Ex box.  I am DYING to know what is inside and why he keeps it.  

 

[angora48]

hehe, that's exactly where we're going with it, @Privatedancer. 😊 Great minds think alike!

Part 11!

 

The next morning, Megan woke up feeling a little better. She was well-rested, her nose and throat didn’t feel so tickly, and she didn’t have that heavy sickly feeling that could weigh somebody down. She wasn’t over her cold yet, as her still-runny nose could attest, but it felt like she’d gotten past the slump and was on the upswing now.

She left Francisco half-drowsing in bed and headed to the kitchen to make breakfast. While she deliberated, Megan had a brainstorm, and with a little quick googling, she found a smoothie recipe that could use up the leftover fruit from yesterday. She stood at the counter, sniffling as she added milk and ice to the blender, along with a banana.

While the blender was running, her nose started to itch. Megan cupped her hands over her mouth for a breathy “haaaahhhh-ehhhhhh-shoooo!” She switched the blender off and crossed to the sink to wash her hands again before pouring her concoction into two tall glasses.

Back in the bedroom, Megan walked to Francisco’s side of the bed. “Are you awake?” she asked softly.

“Mmb?” he mumbled, lifting his tousled head.

Megan winced. “Sorry—if you were nodding off agaid, I dod’t want to wake you,” she said. “Did you want to rest a while logger, or…?”

“Doh, I’be awake,” Francisco replied, sniffling wetly as he pushed himself up in bed. Looking a little hazy, he nodded to the glasses in her hand. “What’s that?”

“Fruit smoothies,” Megan explained, clearing her throat. “I hope they taste okay. I thought, with your sore throat, it bight be easier.”

“Mmb, gracias,” he said, grabbing a Kleenex to wipe his nose. “It looks good.” Megan handed him his smoothie and climbed back into bed.

“That’s very dice,” Francisco said as he took his first sip. “It feels cool od-- od by thro-oat…” He lifted a hand to his face. “uhhhhh…hehhhhh-CHIUHHHHH!”

“Salud,” Megan said. “I’be glad.”

Francisco’s voice was raspy and congested, and he looked a little sweaty. When Megan brushed her hand against his cheek, she could definitely tell he was feverish, probably somewhere between 100.7 and 100.9. Before trying her own smoothie, she pressed the side of her cool glass to his temple and was rewarded with a tired-looking smile.

Though it was obvious that he was feeling sicker than yesterday, Francisco started to perk up as he woke up a bit more. He suggested another “being-sick” selfie, cozying together in bed with their smoothies. The notion of taking a picture of herself with bedhead and a red-tinged nose still made her squirm a little, but Megan couldn’t believe her own luck sometimes. To Francisco, taking a selfie when they were both sick was perfectly natural, and she now had two photos with her boyfriend and his sexy cold—she’d noticed that the one they’d taken on the couch yesterday had already appeared in his “Megan” frame.

Smoothie breakfasts were relatively quick, although Francisco took a little longer with his sore throat. “What do you wadt to watch today?” he asked Megan, sniffling. “You should pick dext, ¿doh?”

“Actually, cad we hold off od that for a bit?” Megan replied. She set her empty glass down on the end table. “I want to tell you sobething. It’s--” she cleared her throat, “--it’s labe, and kide of dumb…”

Francisco winced. “Please, dod’t,” he said. “I dod’t like it whed you talk like that. haaahhhhhh-SHUHHHHHH!” He clapped a hand over his mouth to cover the sudden sneeze.

“Doh, I bean–” Megan broke off, starting again. “Look, let be just say it, add you’ll see what I mead.”

She sniffled, coughing a little, then took a breath. “Okay, so for the past few days, I’ve-- I’ve been thidking a lot–overthinking a lot–about your ex-box.”

Francisco frowned. “The ex-box?” he repeated, rubbing his nose as he glanced at the painted box on the shelf. “Is sobething wrong?”

“No,” Megan insisted, “add that’s why it’s labe. Because I doh there isn’t really a problem, but…” She paused as Francisco’s breath started to hitch.

“Ehhhhh…HIHHHHH-chooooooo!” he sneezed. “ahhhh-hehhhhhh-CHIUHHHHHH!” He sniffled. “Sorry—go od, please.”

“Doh, y-you’re okay,” Megan assured him, although those sneezes left her a little flustered. “Um, like I said–I mead, I doh there’s not a probleb, but the idsecure part of my braid is being dumb add telling be there is. Like, I dod’t even doh your exes, but I keep thinking about theb add wondering, what’s he doing with be?”

Now she was the one who had to sneeze. “huhhhhh-shiooooo! Mmb…” Francisco offered Megan a Kleenex, and she forced a small smile as she wiped her nose. 

“The point is,” she continued, “I dod’t want to listen to the dubb part of by braid anybore add worry whed there’s nothing wrong. So I was woddering, if it’s still okay with you…” She peered into his eyes. “...Could I look at it? The ex-box?”

“Yes, of course,” Francisco said. He leaned in to kiss Megan’s cheek before he hopped out of bed, setting his glass on his nightstand. 

As he walked over to the shelf, he looked a bit wobbly on his feet. Megan winced—she might have been off on her guesstimate of his fever. She should’ve had him check his temperature again. And she should’ve looked up the Celsius/Fahrenheit conversion on her phone. He’d said he had “hardly” a fever last night, but was that actually right?

“Are you okay?” she asked. “If you’re feeling too sick, we could do this later. I didn’t bead to spring addything on you, I—”

“¡Ay, dod’t worry so buch!” Francisco insisted, returning to the bed with the ex-box in his hands. “I’be fide.”

“Are you sure?” Megan pressed. She felt his forehead. “You seem kide of—”

“I said I’be okay,” Francisco replied, plucking her hand off his forehead and kissing it. “I feel, ub, a little shaky, but I’be sitting id bed, so it’s dot a-a big deee…ahhhhh-SHOOOOOO-ehhhhhh!” He exploded with a sneeze, cupping his hands over his mouth.

“Okay, igdore that,” he said, sniffling. “I’be going to sdeeze whether we’re watching a bovie or doing this, so we bight as well do this.” He raised his fist to his mouth, clearing his throat. “It’s better if I cad help you dot to feel andxious.”

It occurred to Megan that she might have been using his fever as an excuse for a last-second bail. “Okay,” she said. “If--” she coughed a couple times, “if you dod’t bind.”

“I probise I dod’t,” Francisco told her. He put his arm around her, kissing her temple and setting down the ex-box so it rested between both of their laps. 

Nodding, Megan said, “Okay. Let’s do it.”

[Privatedancer]

Love the update but……how could you leave us hanging 😅 ?  Dying for next installment;). I also love how much these two care about each other and while I 100% understand why Meghan feels she is the lucky one in the relationship, I am sure Francisco feels that he is.  He is not the type to feel superior becuase of his celebrity status:)

[2SHY222]

Ahhhh the suspense 😱😁. I really like these two and can't wait to see what's in the box.