Chapter Text
“But I need to--”
“Cancel it.”
“But hyung, I--”
“Joon,” Seokjin says, with that look in his eyes, the one he knows Namjoon can't fight, even at his best. Sure enough. Namjoon retreats back onto the couch, defeated.
Only when Seokjin has settled in beside him, letting him rest his head on Seokjin’s wide shoulder, does Namjoon speak again. The slightest whine creeps into his voice. “It's important, hyung.”
“Your health is more important,” Seokjin says simply, firmly.
“Perfectly healthy,” Namjoon mutters. Seokjin just hums in sarcastic agreement, but Namjoon ignores it. “Can you at least please hand me my book?”
“Will it make you dizzy?”
“Already dizzy.”
Seokjin rolls his eyes a little, but hands it over anyway. “I expect you to use good judgment, Joonie.”
“Yes, hyung,” Namjoon says. Seokjin doesn't believe him.
It's not that he doesn't trust Namjoon; he does. Pretty much. In most situations. Really, he trusts Namjoon with Seokjin himself, and with figuring things out and getting things done and a million other things Namjoon is perfectly capable of responding to appropriately.
But does Seokjin trust Namjoon to handle Namjoon? Not for a second.
And with good reason. Namjoon flops over and drifts off to sleep within twenty minutes of opening his book. ‘Perfectly healthy’ his butt.
Seokjin takes this as an opportunity set to some work of his own. Afterall, a sleeping Namjoon is a safe Namjoon, self contained and unable to overwork himself. When Seokjin's able to clean the kitchen and make a shopping list without his cute, migraine-ailed boyfriend even stirring on the couch, he thinks it's a pretty safe bet he's down for the count, so he goes ahead and leaves for the store.
Heaven forgive him for making that assumption.
To Namjoon’s credit, he is still sitting on the couch when Seokjin returns. Unfortunately for Namjoon, his migraine slows his reflexes just enough that he can't hide his laptop at all before Seokjin sees it.
Namjoon looks around for a moment of muted panic, searching for a way out, before surrendering and putting his hands on the air. “Sorry, hyung.”
Seokjin huffs. “No, you're not.”
“No, I'm not.”
“Save your work,” Seokjin says simply, setting the groceries down in the kitchen and returning with one bag left in hand. When the familiar chime of a data save rings from Namjoon’s laptop, Seokjin grabs it off his lap and sets it down across the room.
Namjoon looks sheepish-- not guilty or particularly regretful, but sheepish-- and slumps back into himself. “I'm in the middle of a big project,” he pouts.
“You can't get rid of a stress migraine by putting yourself in a position of more stress, dummy.”
Namjoon grumbles incoherently. Seokjin lets it go.
“Y’know, I even stopped on the way home and got you something,” Seokjin continues, holding up the bag from the novelty store, “because I thought you were going to be a good patient.”
Namjoon snorts. “I'm your patient?”
“My worst patient, to be exact. So now I guess I'll just get my thing for now,” Seokjin says, holding the bag away from Namjoon and pulling out a Yoshi plushy.
There’s comprehending silence, and then, “Hold on. You got me a present because I'm not feeling well, and got yourself something at the same time, but now you get your self-present but I don't get mine?” Namjoon says, words slow and effortful. “I don't think presents are supposed to work like that.”
“They're not presents, they're rewards. And I, for one, am doing a great job of taking care of you. I've earned this.”
If Namjoon has any further thoughts, he doesn't voice them. Instead, he just flops himself over into Seokjin's lap.
“You always do this when you have a headache,” Seokjin comments, dropping the bag and keeping one hand on Yoshi, the other on Namjoon's shoulder.
“It's comforting. And cute. You love it.”
“You're sucking up to me.”
“You're so cynical. Maybe I just love you.”
“Ah, do you now?”
Namjoon turns to smile up at him, wincing a little as he does. “Of course.”
“Then why don't you listen? You should rest more and do what I say when you're sick so I don't have to worry so much.”
“Aw, hyung. You're worried about me,” Namjoon grins.
Seokjin makes a face and pinches him. “This isn't about me. Why don't you listen to your hyung?”
“What if I told you that you're my muse, and I want to finish the song you inspired me to write so you can hear it finished on our anniversary?”
This, Seokjin decides, is a very rude thing to say. How is he supposed to be mad at that? He can't, and Namjoon knows that. What a jerk, being all sweet and thoughtful while Seokjin’s trying to make a point. How dare he.
Begrudgingly, and with an audible huff, Seokjin reaches down to pull a Ryan plushy out of the discarded bag and throws it lightly at Namjoon's butt.
“Aw, he's even got a little doctor's coat! He's adorable,” Namjoon gushes, pulling it up to his chest and hugging it, cuddling into Seokjin in the process. “Thank you. I love it.”
“Yeah, well. Just stop putting your cute plans above your health, and we'll call it even.”
Namjoon hums. “I’ll think about it.”