Hajime is a control freak. He’ll deny it but the man stresses like no one else about things that are completely out of his hands. He doesn’t know how to just rest and relax. Which is what one is supposed to do when they’re sick.
“I have to go in,” he argues, coughing his way through the sentence, his voice so hoarse and scratchy Fuyuhiko rubs his own throat.
“You have to lie down, drink soup, pop some cold pills, and sleep. They’ll be fine without you for a day.” Really, it’s at least two, probably three, by how terrible he looks, but Fuyuhiko will save those battles for later.
“I’m fine,” Hajime says. He moves to get up, sluggish and concentrating far too hard to complete the usually thoughtless movements. He’s breathing heavy by the time he’s sitting up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Fuyuhiko stands in front of his idiot and presses his hand against Hajime’s chest. He’s not even applying that much pressure but he keeps Hajime in place. Even through a slightly sweat-damp shirt, Fuyuhiko’s hand soaks up the heat Hajime’s radiating. The idiot’s burning up and arguing isn’t doing him any favors.
“Yeah, so fine.”
Hajime glares at him but with his clammy complexion and glassy eyes, it’s not very effective. When he gives up and stops pressing back against Fuyuhiko’s hand, Fuyuhiko sits beside him on their bed. Fuyuhiko reaches up and brushes Hajime’s hair from his face. Even his usually spiked hair is all limp and droopy.
“One day in bed won’t kill you. Getting out of it and doing whatever million things you think you have to do might.” He eyes the way Hajime’s pale and clammy, shivering even though he’s still wrapped up in blankets and sweating through his clothes. Fuyuhiko softens his tone. “So stay home so I can stop worrying about you. You look like death and I want you around for a few more years.”
Hajime gives a startled laugh. He reaches out and mingles his fingers with Fuyuhiko’s on the bed. “Only a few?”
Fuyuhiko shrugs, glances away. He might be catching Hajime’s cold from the way he’s starting to feel a bit too warm. “It’s negotiable.”
“Oh fine.” Hajime leans in and places a kiss against Fuyuhiko’s neck and falls forward with a sigh. He drops his head onto Fuyuhiko’s shoulder, all the tension leaving his body as he slumps over and lets Fuyuhiko take his weight. He’s so warm, even against Fuyuhiko’s shirt.
“I’m perfectly fine,” Hajime mumbles and then proceeds to pull away to cough into his arm.
“Yeah. Soup, meds, and sleep. Maybe change into not-sweaty pajamas first though.”
“Yes sir,” Hajime concedes. He lifts his head and moves to get a kiss, but Fuyuhiko leans away.
“No kisses until you’re better.” Hajime pouts and looks even more miserable and sad that Fuyuhiko can’t help but pat his fever flushed cheek and kiss his forehead “So rest up if you want any more.”