That Stupid Tissue Box

A Story One-shot

This just happened to me, like literally half an hour ago, and I didn't have a Stephen to help me out. You're welcome, Rory.

TSTB

"With my hand on top of all the Cheez Wiz in the world, I swear I am going to hunt down whoever left that box there and I am going to kill them."

I stared angrily at the dented tissue box all the way on the other side of Stephen's room, mentally willing it to fly over to me into my hands. I sneezed, once, twice, three times before falling back onto the pillow, trying to forget about the dang box.

I groaned, unable to ignore the way my stuffed up nose made it hard to breathe, the way my head pounded like someone was hitting it with a sledgehammer- wait, then I'd be dead. Fine, like someone was hitting it with a large, hardcover book, like The Deathly Hallows, or The Hobbit. Yeah, it felt like that.

I placed a thermometer in my mouth, waited for a few minutes, then groaned when the stupid thing started beeping and revealed a temperature way to high for any human that was completely healthy. Yup, I was sick. Wonderful.

I resisted the urge to throw my- I mean, Stephen's- pillow across the room to hang out with the tissue box. It should have been awkward for me to sleep here, smell Stephen on the sheets and pillow, but really I was trying not to think about it. I was more concerned that there was a small, ugly, little box across the room that would be the only thing that would help me breathe again, and that I was way too lazy and sick to get up and grab it for myself.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" I shouted at the box, using my finger as a makeshift wand. "Accio tissue box!"

The blue thing didn't even move an inch.

I cursed the box then, with its stupid, flowery, blue pattern and the loathsome dents in its side. It made me extremely peevish, for some ridiculous reason, and I flipped it off, even if it was an inanimate object that didn't move, breathe, or have feelings.

I sneezed again, nearly blowing my nose off. Stupid nose. Stupid fever. Stupid London for being so wet and cold and getting me sick.

"Avada Kedavra!" I shouted, though it didn't do anything to the stupid box. It would have been satisfying to see a green light jet from my finger, but that obviously didn't happen. I must have looked ridiculous, trying to kill something that had never been alive; plus, I was a terminus, not a witch. I would have gladly traded place with Hermione Granger, but she wasn't offering so I didn't ask. Shame. I could totally pull off that hot nerd look.

"I swear, tissue box, that when I'm better I'm going to hunt down your wife and children and I am going to throw them into a fire; and I am going to laugh."

No response from the tissues or the actual box.

The door opened then, revealing Stephen with that concerned look he always has on his face. "I heard shouting. Everything alright?"

"I wouldn't come too close. You'll either get sick or my bad mood will infect you. I can't tell which is worse right now."

Stephen leaned against the door frame, looking more uncomfortable than he usually did when he was around me. "Are you in the middle of your... monthly stuff?"

I tried not to laugh; really, I did. But the fact that only Stephen would ask that kind of question, and the way he said it, and the face he pulled when he was talking just made me burst into laughter. So much, in fact, that I had to wipe away a few tears before I finally calmed down. "I'm sick, you doofus. It's not PMS."

The relieved look on his face then made me laugh a little bit more. "Right... that's good, then. What's making you mad?"

"That stupid box." I made a bunch of wild gestures at it with my hands, flipping it off more than once. "It's all the way on the other side of the room, and I can't get it."

Both of his eyebrows rose so high they could have hit the sun, and then they would have been burnt to a crisp and he still wouldn't look less attractive than he did at that moment. "That's it? Well, here." He bent down and grabbed the dang thing, and brought it over to the bed. He held it out to me, then sat down on the edge of the bed, which emitted a creak that, for some reason, made me want to smash the whole thing to bits.

I gratefully grabbed the box and snatched a tissue off the top. Man, it felt so good to get rid of all the junk that was in my nose. Die, boogers. "Thanks." My nose was still pinched between my fingers when I said it, so it came out all nasally and weird, like an alien you'd see on one of those old tv shows.

Stephen snorted slightly, and that small grin of his took center stage on his face. "You're welcome." He leaned over and placed a soft kiss on the top of my head. "Get some sleep. I'll be in the other room if you need me."

Then he left, leaving me feeling warmer than I did with all the blankets piled up on top of me. I smiled slightly and turned over...

And the box fell off my hip and onto the floor.

I cursed loudly, sitting up. "DANG IT!"

The End.

So that's it! So yeah, I got this idea while I was having similar problems, and I was rereading some Shades of London stuff that I wrote, along with a little Shades of London fanfics in between, and after I sadly got up and grabbed the freaking box, I turned on some music and wrote this crazy thing. I'm not sick, thank goodness, but I'm just way too lazy to get up right now. And now I'm hungry. Poo. Thanks for reading! See you guys later, peace!