Thomas Brodie-Sangster Imagines

Tis The Season To Be Snotty

Tis The Season To Be Snotty.

It was New Years Eve: the perfect night for everyone to go out and get drunk at parties with their mates, or to have a romantic night with their loved ones, or for families to sit around and watch the festivities on the television. It was a day of celebration and happiness for a new year coming.

But it was not like that for you.

You were in your apartment on New Years Eve, making sure your boyfriend Thomas was getting better after the disastrous cold he'd had for a few weeks. The cold had started off plain and simple - as colds go - with only a sore throat and a few coughs here and there, and then it began to progress. You were so worried about him, he was so full of cold he had to cancel interviews, meetings and auditions for movies and television shows. Yesterday, the cold took a turn for the worse, he had managed to survive Christmas but now it was really getting to him. He was coughing his lungs out (so to speak) and his eyes had gone all puffy. His nose wasn't looking any better either, it was like a leaky tap...constantly dripping horrible snot. Unsurprisingly, Thomas had gone through a whole pack of big Kleenex tissues in one day.

"Tommy?" You knocked on your bedroom door, Thomas had been in there for hours just couching and sneezing his way through the day and now it was time for you to give him his tablets; over the last two days he'd been dosed up on Honey & Lemon cough syrup, Strepsils and Sudafed, hoping that it was all kick that cold's butt.

Opening the door, you heard a little moan as the light crept into the dark abyss that was your room. You saw a mound under the covers, it looked as if Thomas was in foetal position.

"Baby?"

"Mmh."

"You need to take your tablets."

"Mmh okay..."

With that, Thomas poked his head out under the covers, sniffed a couple of times before wiping his eyes to adjust to the light, and sat up. You handed over the glass of water and passed him the two red and green tablets. He took them easily and passed the glass back to you. Thomas looked at you and weakly smiled, you knew he hated this whole illness thing and the only thing he wanted to do was be healthy again.

"Stupid cold..." he muttered and threw his snotty tissue into the bin. It missed - of course - just like the other tissues that had began to form a mountain of snotty, mucus soaked paper. You put the glass down and squatted beside him.

"Tommy it's okay, you're going to get better and we can go have a fancy meal another time okay?" For months Thomas had been planning for you and him to go to the new posh restaurant that had opened on the high street, it was crazily popular and highly expensive and you were both looking forward to treating yourselves, but now Thomas was ill and you both knew that you wouldn't be able to go. You were totally fine with it, of course you didn't mind because there was a perfectly good reason as to why you weren't going, but Thomas was having none of it. He was so mad at himself for catching a cold.

"No Y/N, I really wanted to spoil you this Christmas and I wanted to celebrate but now-" He paused, erupting into a massive coughing fit. "Ugh! See I can't even finish a sentence without practically dying!"

"It's okay," You soothed him, "You'll be better soon hopefully."

He nodded and cuddled back down into the covers of the bed. He was sweating like crazy but you were glad, hopefully he was sweating the cold out of him. You gently rubbed his head for him soothingly and he managed to settle; after a while the tablets kicked in and he began to cough less and less. His cough was horrifying, chesty and hollow as he brought up mucus - you were surprised you hadn't caught it yet.