Chapter Text
They were sitting on the couch watching telly, every possible blanket draped over their entwined legs, when it happened: Scully coughed. She’d been sniffling and sneezing plenty, achy and congested, but this was the first documented cough. Stella gave her a poor baby look, Dana answered with an I’m fine glare, and then they respectively redirected their attention to the latest issue of Vogue and a Who Do You Think You Are? rerun.
Almost immediately, Scully coughed again.
Stella set down the magazine.
“Alright, love?”
Dana opened her mouth to answer, but ended up coughing instead.
Seeing that the other woman’s cup was empty, Stella turned to reach for her mug of tea, planning to offer it to Dana to soothe her tickling throat.
Instead, she sneezed.
Now it was Dana’s turn to look worried.
“Stella? Are you ok–” she broke off with another cough, which turned into four.
“I’m f… f… fahschooo!”
“Well, that must be a British thing; I’ve never heard of the feeling ‘fashoo’ before...”
Stella raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow, and it would’ve very likely been very intimidating if she hadn’t also been scrunching up her entire body like she might be about to burst into flame.
“Stella?”
Stella sneezed again.
Dana laughed, but it came out more like a cough, and suddenly she was coughing again.
Sneeze.
Cough.
Shaky inhalation, sneeze.
Cough, cough.
“Dan–hep-TSSCH'oo!”
Cough, slight chuckle, followed by–you guessed it!–a cough.
Having somewhat regained her composure, Dana plucked a few tissues and handed them to Stella, who had that pre-implosion look again.
“Stella, if you try to hold them in, they’ll only keep coming. Plus, you can really hurt your ears that way.”
“Bullshi–chssh!!!”
“It’s true. Trust me; I’m a medical doctor.”
“So you’ve said.”
After a few seconds, her shoulders visibly untensing, Stella took a deep breath and snatched the tissues from her girlfriend’s outstretched hand, indignant. She seemed to have the sneezing under control for the moment. Her face, however, remained red, and she was avoiding Dana’s gaze. Could it be… Embarrassment? Dana marveled at the very thought. The word “embarrassed” wasn’t even in The Stella Gibson Lexicon.
“Sneezing is a perfectly normal physiological response to a number of things; respiratory illness, seasonal or object-specific allergies, unexpected particle inhalation, sudden bright lights…”
“I know tha–wait, what was that last one there?”
“Sudden bright lights.”
“Can cause sneezing?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“They trigger a reflexive response; it’s called photoptarmosis.”
“Alright, now you’re just making it up as you go.”
“It’s colloquially known as sun-sneezing, more formally as Autosomal Dominant Compelling Helio-Ophthalmic Outburst Syndrome, and affects approximately 18-35% of the population.”
“Yes, yes, we know, you’re a medical doctor, for heaven’s sake, you ju–”
It was at this moment that Dana Scully, M.D., very purposefully tipped up the lampshade of the large pole lamp that sat just behind the couch, casting it’s light directly into one unsuspecting Stella Gibson’s face.
She sneezed thrice, each one more violent than the preceding few.
“See?”
Stella was sneezing too rapidly to answer.
Dana grinned irrepressibly, smug.
“Your sneezes are a bit loud,” Dana said, chuckling.
“They’re really not,” Stella whispered, and her face went red again.
“They really are,” Dana giggled.
“They’re not!” Stella said, suddenly sharp, but then she sneezed again, and Dana knocked the lampshade back down.
Dana knew better than to grin or laugh when Stella was using that tone, the one she usually reserved for self-important local police officers and presumptuous strange men. “I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Stella mumbled something that Dana couldn’t hear.
“What was that?”
Stella drew the ball of tissues away from her face, looked at it scornfully, and tossed it carelessly over her shoulder.
“I said, I know they’re loud. They’ve always been.” She looked down at her magazine.
“Oh, Stell… it’s nothing to be self-conscious about. I was just teasing.”
Stella mumbled noncommittally.
“Really,” Dana insisted, now feeling a bit guilty about the whole lamp thing. She’d never seen Stella look so... wounded. The bit guilty feeling was quickly swelling into a cringe- inducing, soul-swallowing, uniquely Catholic super-guilt feeling.
~~~
When the pair sat down to dinner an hour later, Stella’s sneezing had more or less ceased, but she remained unusually sniffly.
“Oh Stell, I hope you’re not getting my cold,” Dana began, but she was promptly interrupted.
“I’m fine, Dana. Perfectly healthy. Right as rain.” Stella mugged unconvincingly, her tone overly chipper. It didn’t fool Dana for a second, but she pretended it did for her girlfriend’s sake.
“Okay,” Scully said, and returned to her risotto.
They munched in silence for a few minutes, the patter of rain on the window panes their background music.
“Do you really think my sneezes are that loud?”
The question came as a surprise to Scully, whose mind had drifted to thoughts of the cases she’d be returning to as soon as she was well again.
“No… no, of course I don’t.”
Stella didn’t look convinced. Her ordinarily piercing visage had gone soft and sad, and it was heartbreaking to behold.
“I really don’t. I’m sorry I even said that, that I pulled that bullshit with the lamp…” Dana reached across the table and covered Stella’s elegant, sedately polished hand with her own small rough one. “I’m so sorry, Stelly. Please forgive me?”
“Yeah, of course,” Stella said softly, digging around in the remnants of her plate of risotto with a fork.
Scully’s guilt was reaching a boiling point. She didn’t know what else to say, so she just gathered their dishes and took them into the kitchen to load the dishwasher. When she returned to the living room/dining room ten minutes later carrying two plates of Stella’s favorite Tesco coffee cake, she found the room empty.
Dana Scully wasn’t one for vulnerable emotions, was absolutely not one for frivolous displays of emotion like crying, but in that moment she felt near tears, consumed by the knowledge that she’d so carelessly upset the woman she loved for no good reason.
She returned to the kitchen and made two Hot Toddies, and by the time she was done the urge to weep had subsided, but it had been replaced by a desperate desire to apologize and apologize and apologize by way of treats and cuddles and kisses.
In their room, Stella was sat up under the covers in her favorite satin robe, flicking mindlessly through the channels.
“Stella, I really feel terrible… so I made you this.” Scully presented the Hot Toddy, followed by the coffee cake, which she had garnished with a chocolate kiss and some mint leaves fresh from their balcony herb garden. “Your sneezes aren’t loud; they’re charming, just like everything else about you.”
Smiling briefly, Stella took the plate and mug.
Satisfied with her damage control but still rippling with culpability, Dana went to the bathroom to go through her nighttime routine.
Teeth brushed, face washed, sleep shirt on, and eyes tired, Scully opened the door to their bedroom and found that the lights were already off. Stella was turned on her side, not the one she usually slept on, but so that she was facing away from Scully’s half of the bed. The guilt bubbled up again, but she wouldn’t dare disturb Stella when she was trying to get to sleep, so she silently crawled in beside her.
“My sneezes are quite loud, Dana.”
Scully was so surprised to hear her speak that she jumped a bit.
“What? No, I was just being stupid, they’re really–”
“They’re loud, Dana. I know it.”
Hearing the tremor in Stella’s voice, Scully turned over and sat up to get a better look at her girlfriend’s face… and found her smirking?
“My sneezes have always been loud, darling. I’ve just been taking the piss.”
For a half second Dana’s mouth made a perfect O, shocked–but then she remembered herself and transitioned quite seamlessly into a more dignified but no less cute sort of frustrated pouting.
“I was a bit insecure about it once so I’ll admit it hit in an odd spot when you first said it, but after the first apology that’d all been forgiven and forgotten… but you were just so sweet, with your little kid-who-kicked-the-dog face and your edible peace offerings…” Stella drawled.
“Dammit, Stella,” Scully said, and flopped, dejected, back onto her side of the bed.
Stella giggled. Dana tried her very best not to smile.
“I love you,” Stella said.
“I love you too,” Dana answered, mock-exasperated.
Stella turned over and snuggled up behind her fussing girlfriend–surprisingly, there were few things the pragmatic and aloof Agent Scully loved more than a good spooning–and Dana immediately relented.
They had both closed their eyes, settled into the position and into their need to sleep, when suddenly Stella sneezed.
“Sorry you’re getting my cold.”
“S’alright,” Stella admitted, rubbing her nose, “S’more than worth it.” Wrapping an arm over her little spoon’s waist, she cuddled even closer into Scully’s back.