Sicktember 2024 Day 7
Sep. 7th, 2024 08:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mrsluigivargasBiological Warfare (and the lack thereof)
A small moment during peace treaty negotiations.
Fandom: Super Mario
Rating: General Audiences
Characters: Peach, Bowser
Relationships: Bowser & Peach
Additional Tags: Sickfic, Fluff, One-sided Bowser/Peach, Implied/Referenced Mario/Peach/Luigi
Length: 812 words
Sicktember Prompts: Borrowed Hoodie, The SnifflesTM
~~~
Bowser twitched as Peach sniffled for the millionth time this hour. Sure, this treaty was important, for beginning to repair old hurts and for the betterment of both their kingdoms and for their common relationships with Mario and Luigi. But also —
Peach shivered.
“How the hell are you cold right now?”
Peach looked up at him flatly. “You know how chilly your fortresses get.”
“It’s the middle of the day! In the middle of summer! We’re in a heatwave!”
“Hmph.” Peach pulled a tissue out of her pocket and wiped her nose. The motion pierced through the general miasma suffering through a heatwave while forced to read and discuss dry legal documents brought, and it finally clicked in Bowser’s mind that Peach’s flushed cheeks were not, in fact, emblematic of a surprise twist in their current relationship.
“Are you sick?!”
Peach blew her nose. “Maybe just a little.” she said, voice level.
Bowser gaped at her. “We’re trying to write a peace treaty, and you're doing biological warfare?”
“It’s not contagious,” Peach huffed. “You can't even get it.” She stopped, frowned, looked down at the wad of tissues in her hand. She threw the wad across the table at Bowser. Bowser reared back, making a sound of disgust Peach couldn't help snickering at.
“This is a peace treaty!”
“These are reparations.” Peach wadded up an unused tissue.
Bowser batted the tissue away when she threw it. “You're terrible!”
“You were terrible first.”
Bowser grumbled, because...yeah. He was.
The pair refocused on the documents in front of them. Peach’s sniffles continued, joined by the occasional sneeze, tiny and cute. All the while, when she wasn't gesticulating to make a point she had her arms wrapped around herself, rubbing away goosebumps with the faintest of frowns peeking through her regal mask. And eventually, Bowser had had enough of it.
Peach started at the scrape of Bowser’s chair on the stone floor. “Wait here,” he said, and stomped out of the room. Peach waited. When Bowser came back, he threw something at her before sitting down.
“Oof!” Peach struggled out from under it. “Now who’s engaging in warfare?” Her head popped out and she blinked, peering down at designs woven into fabric. “Is this a sweater? On a day like this?”
“Normally the magic mumbo-jumbo in the walls is supposed to be working at full blast.”
“...Mumbo-jumbo?”
Just put it on.”
Peach put the sweater on. As expected, she practically drowned in it once she settled it around her shoulders. And as should have been expected, Bowser saw her roll up the sleeves to reveal her thin little wrists and his brain short-circuited. He locked his eyes to the table, because he still remembered the fury on her face and the pain in her words all those months ago when she’d confronted him about the way he’d treated her over the years. And he’s been trying, okay, to clean up his act, and this treaty was a major part of that, so it was really important he didn't mess this up by being weird, because if he did then both she and the old man would kill him —
Peach sighed. She cleared her throat to get Bowser’s attention. Once she had it, she settled into a pose — elbows on the table, chin resting on interlocked hands, head tilted ever-so-slightly off center, hair tossed back behind her shoulder. “You have thirty seconds,” she said.
Bowser took in the sight of her, intending to take the whole thirty seconds. After about eight, he frowned. “You made it weird,” he complained.
Peach snorted. “Did not.” She leaned back in her chair, regarding Bowser consideringly. “You’re really changing, you know,” she mused.
Her words almost felt like a promise, but Bowser supposed he did change at least a little, for him to know better. He handed Peach a pack of face masks. “Don't sneeze on my clothes,” he said.
“Finally confident I’m not Luigi now?” Peach smirked, putting one on.
“Luigi doesn’t know what the hell even goes into a peace treaty.”
Peach hummed in agreement, but paused. “Oh, shoot; I should really teach him, though. You two really ought to formalize something regarding the Boos...”
The idea of navigating yet another treaty had Bowser groaning aloud in annoyance. Peach stifled a laugh behind a hand, and the scowl on Bowser’s face wobbled into its own smirk at the sound. And because he was changing, he swallowed down the impulse to push his luck. And then buried the faint, familiar sting of all the failures and mistakes that led to needing this restraint in the first place. Though he kept the smug realization that Mario and Luigi had, essentially and ignorantly and maybe unknowingly, passed up the opportunity to dote on their ailing girlfriend and given it to him on a silver platter.
Baby steps, as they say.
Peach shivered.
“How the hell are you cold right now?”
Peach looked up at him flatly. “You know how chilly your fortresses get.”
“It’s the middle of the day! In the middle of summer! We’re in a heatwave!”
“Hmph.” Peach pulled a tissue out of her pocket and wiped her nose. The motion pierced through the general miasma suffering through a heatwave while forced to read and discuss dry legal documents brought, and it finally clicked in Bowser’s mind that Peach’s flushed cheeks were not, in fact, emblematic of a surprise twist in their current relationship.
“Are you sick?!”
Peach blew her nose. “Maybe just a little.” she said, voice level.
Bowser gaped at her. “We’re trying to write a peace treaty, and you're doing biological warfare?”
“It’s not contagious,” Peach huffed. “You can't even get it.” She stopped, frowned, looked down at the wad of tissues in her hand. She threw the wad across the table at Bowser. Bowser reared back, making a sound of disgust Peach couldn't help snickering at.
“This is a peace treaty!”
“These are reparations.” Peach wadded up an unused tissue.
Bowser batted the tissue away when she threw it. “You're terrible!”
“You were terrible first.”
Bowser grumbled, because...yeah. He was.
The pair refocused on the documents in front of them. Peach’s sniffles continued, joined by the occasional sneeze, tiny and cute. All the while, when she wasn't gesticulating to make a point she had her arms wrapped around herself, rubbing away goosebumps with the faintest of frowns peeking through her regal mask. And eventually, Bowser had had enough of it.
Peach started at the scrape of Bowser’s chair on the stone floor. “Wait here,” he said, and stomped out of the room. Peach waited. When Bowser came back, he threw something at her before sitting down.
“Oof!” Peach struggled out from under it. “Now who’s engaging in warfare?” Her head popped out and she blinked, peering down at designs woven into fabric. “Is this a sweater? On a day like this?”
“Normally the magic mumbo-jumbo in the walls is supposed to be working at full blast.”
“...Mumbo-jumbo?”
Just put it on.”
Peach put the sweater on. As expected, she practically drowned in it once she settled it around her shoulders. And as should have been expected, Bowser saw her roll up the sleeves to reveal her thin little wrists and his brain short-circuited. He locked his eyes to the table, because he still remembered the fury on her face and the pain in her words all those months ago when she’d confronted him about the way he’d treated her over the years. And he’s been trying, okay, to clean up his act, and this treaty was a major part of that, so it was really important he didn't mess this up by being weird, because if he did then both she and the old man would kill him —
Peach sighed. She cleared her throat to get Bowser’s attention. Once she had it, she settled into a pose — elbows on the table, chin resting on interlocked hands, head tilted ever-so-slightly off center, hair tossed back behind her shoulder. “You have thirty seconds,” she said.
Bowser took in the sight of her, intending to take the whole thirty seconds. After about eight, he frowned. “You made it weird,” he complained.
Peach snorted. “Did not.” She leaned back in her chair, regarding Bowser consideringly. “You’re really changing, you know,” she mused.
Her words almost felt like a promise, but Bowser supposed he did change at least a little, for him to know better. He handed Peach a pack of face masks. “Don't sneeze on my clothes,” he said.
“Finally confident I’m not Luigi now?” Peach smirked, putting one on.
“Luigi doesn’t know what the hell even goes into a peace treaty.”
Peach hummed in agreement, but paused. “Oh, shoot; I should really teach him, though. You two really ought to formalize something regarding the Boos...”
The idea of navigating yet another treaty had Bowser groaning aloud in annoyance. Peach stifled a laugh behind a hand, and the scowl on Bowser’s face wobbled into its own smirk at the sound. And because he was changing, he swallowed down the impulse to push his luck. And then buried the faint, familiar sting of all the failures and mistakes that led to needing this restraint in the first place. Though he kept the smug realization that Mario and Luigi had, essentially and ignorantly and maybe unknowingly, passed up the opportunity to dote on their ailing girlfriend and given it to him on a silver platter.
Baby steps, as they say.
~~~
Another Royal Plumbing Polycule fic! Again, the most interesting part of this polycule to me is the chance to have Bowser and Peach reconcile. I wanted to show them getting along a little more with this fic; Peach thawing out a little bit and Bowser exhibiting growth by acting normal when the pretty girl’s wearing your clothes, lol. This entire fic series is being written out of order, and that might negatively impact what I’m, going for, but whatever.
Also I wrote that whatever Peach is sick with is something Bowser couldn’t get, but in hindsight if she’d got a Mushroom-related illness, then the Goombas might be at risk of getting it. Whoops.