Chapter Text
The rain had started sometime in the late afternoon, quiet at first, just a soft tapping against the windows that blended into the usual hum of the house. By evening it had grown into something heavier, the clouds pressing low over the neighborhood while thick sheets of rain poured steadily onto the streets. Water ran down the glass in uneven lines, and the sound of it striking the roof filled the house with a constant dull rhythm. Inside, the warm lights of the kitchen glowed against the dark gray outside, creating a small island of comfort in the middle of the storm.
Enjin stood near the stove with his arms folded, glancing occasionally toward the window while the rain continued to intensify. The weather report earlier that day had warned about a sudden cold front moving in, and judging by the way the wind was rattling the branches outside, the forecast had been completely right. The kitchen smelled faintly of spices and tea, but the quiet evening routine had already been interrupted once by the sound of footsteps approaching from the hallway.
Gris entered the kitchen with the casual confidence of someone who had already made a decision he wasn’t planning to change.
“I’m heading out,” he announced.
Enjin didn’t even turn around at first.
“Where?”
“Store.”
That made Enjin pause.
He looked over his shoulder slowly.
“…In this weather?”
Gris had already grabbed a light jacket from the chair near the door, shrugging into it like the storm outside was nothing more than a mild inconvenience. The jacket was thin, barely enough to block a breeze, and definitely not something anyone should wear while walking through heavy rain.
“It’s fine,” Gris said casually.
Enjin’s eyebrows lifted immediately.
“You’re joking.”
Gris walked toward the door, completely unfazed.
“We need groceries.”
Enjin pointed toward the window where the rain slammed against the glass hard enough to blur the streetlights outside.
“It’s pouring.”
“So?”
“So you’re going to get sick.”
Gris waved his hand dismissively as he reached for his keys.
“I won’t.”
Enjin sighed.
“You’re wearing the smallest jacket in the house.”
“It’s waterproof.”
“It’s barely fabric.”
Gris opened the door.
Cold wind and rain immediately rushed inside.
“I’ll be back soon,” he said confidently.
Enjin stared at him.
“You’re going to regret this.”
Gris laughed.
“No I won’t.”
Then he stepped outside into the storm and shut the door behind him.
Enjin stood there for a moment staring at the closed door in disbelief before slowly dragging a hand down his face.
“…Unbelievable.”
Outside, the rain was far worse than it had looked from inside the house. The wind pushed the water sideways in sudden bursts, soaking the sidewalks and streets until everything gleamed under the dim glow of streetlights. Within seconds Gris’s hair was damp despite the hood of his jacket, but he didn’t seem bothered. He walked confidently down the street with his hands tucked into his pockets, moving quickly through the rain like someone determined to prove a point.
By the time he reached the store, the shoulders of his jacket were already dark with water.
He shook the rain from his sleeves as he stepped inside, the warm air of the small grocery shop fogging his glasses slightly. The clerk near the counter glanced up briefly at the soaked man who had just walked in, raising an eyebrow before returning to their phone.
Gris wandered through the aisles casually, picking up the ingredients he had planned to buy earlier that day—vegetables, noodles, spices, and a few other things he knew Enjin liked for dinner. He hummed quietly to himself while filling the basket, completely ignoring the way his sleeves clung damply to his arms.
By the time he left the store twenty minutes later, the rain had only grown heavier.
But Gris still looked confident as he walked home.
When he stepped through the front door again, the sound of the storm followed him inside briefly before the door shut behind him. Water dripped from his jacket onto the floor as he set the grocery bags down on the counter.
“See?” he said proudly.
Enjin looked up from the table where he had been reading.
Gris was soaked.
Completely soaked.
Rainwater had flattened his hair slightly and his jacket clung to him like it had been dunked in a bucket.
Enjin stared at him.
“You’re dripping.”
“I’m fine.”
Enjin sighed slowly.
“Did you at least bring everything?”
Gris lifted the grocery bag.
“Of course.”
Enjin inspected the ingredients before reluctantly nodding.
“…Alright.”
Gris smirked slightly.
“Told you.”
Enjin shook his head.
“Go change before you freeze.”
Gris waved him off again and headed down the hallway toward the bedroom, leaving damp footprints behind him.
The rest of the evening passed normally enough.
Dinner was good. The storm eventually softened into steady rain instead of violent wind. The house settled into its usual quiet rhythm as night grew deeper.
Gris insisted he felt perfectly fine.
Enjin didn’t believe him.
The next morning proved exactly why.
Sunlight filtered faintly through the curtains when Enjin woke up, the storm gone and replaced by cool morning air. For a moment everything felt normal until he noticed the empty space beside him in bed.
He found Gris sitting at the kitchen table a few minutes later.
And immediately stopped.
Gris looked terrible.
His cheeks were flushed bright red, his hair messy from restless sleep, and his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. A blanket hung loosely around his shoulders while he leaned weakly against the table like simply sitting upright required effort.
Enjin crossed his arms slowly.
“…Good morning.”
Gris blinked.
“…Morning.”
His voice sounded rough.
Enjin walked closer and pressed a hand gently against Gris’s forehead.
It was burning hot.
Enjin raised an eyebrow.
“I told you so.”
Gris groaned quietly.
“Don’t start.”
“You went out in a storm wearing paper.”
“I wore a jacket.”
“You wore a napkin.”
Gris rested his head against the table.
“…I feel awful.”
Enjin nodded calmly.
“Yes.”
Gris closed his eyes.
“Help.”
Enjin sighed, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice now.
“You brought this on yourself.”
Despite the lecture, he quickly shifted into caretaker mode. Within minutes he had guided Gris back toward the couch in the living room, piling blankets around him while preparing tea and medicine in the kitchen. The quiet house filled with the soft clinking of cups and the rustling of blankets while the morning sunlight crept slowly across the floor.
Gris looked miserable.
His face remained flushed, and every movement seemed slower than usual as the fever settled firmly into place.
Enjin returned with a cup of warm tea and set it carefully on the table beside him.
“Drink.”
Gris obeyed weakly.
“…You’re enjoying this,” he muttered.
Enjin smirked slightly.
“Immensely.”
Throughout the day Enjin stayed nearby, occasionally checking Gris’s temperature, bringing soup, adjusting blankets, and making sure he actually rested instead of trying to wander around the house like he normally would.
Every time Gris attempted to insist he was “fine,” Enjin simply repeated the same words.
“I told you so.”
By the afternoon Gris had fully surrendered to the situation, wrapped in blankets with flushed cheeks while Enjin hovered nearby like an overprepared nurse.
And despite the teasing…
He took very good care of him.
————
The house had grown quieter as the afternoon settled in. Outside, the storm from the night before had completely passed, leaving the sky pale and washed clean while weak sunlight filtered through the curtains. The streets still glistened from leftover rainwater, and every now and then the faint sound of dripping gutters echoed through the neighborhood. Inside the house, however, the atmosphere was warm and still, the air filled with the faint scent of herbal tea and the soft rustle of blankets shifting on the couch.
Gris had slowly migrated from sitting upright to practically collapsing sideways across the couch cushions, bundled in layers of blankets Enjin had insisted on wrapping around him. His cheeks were still flushed from the fever, and the tip of his nose had turned pink from how often he’d rubbed it throughout the day. Every breath sounded slightly congested, and he kept sniffling irritably like the situation personally offended him.
Enjin sat beside him with his back against the armrest, one leg stretched out along the couch while the other rested on the floor. He had originally planned to sit there only long enough to make sure Gris finished his medicine, but at some point the situation had shifted naturally into something softer and quieter.
Gris had leaned against him.
Then he had stayed there.
Now the sick man rested half across Enjin’s lap, his head tilted sideways against Enjin’s thigh while the blankets pooled around them both. The position looked almost accidental, like Gris had meant to sit up again but had run out of energy halfway through the attempt.
Enjin gently ran his fingers through Gris’s slightly messy hair, brushing back damp strands from his forehead.
Gris sniffed loudly.
“…Stop that.”
Enjin raised an eyebrow.
“Stop what?”
“Petting me.”
“You’re sick.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to treat me like a cat.”
Enjin continued running his fingers slowly through his hair anyway.
“You’re acting like one.”
Gris frowned weakly, his voice muffled slightly by the blanket pulled up around his shoulders.
“My nose is stuffed.”
“I know.”
“I hate being sick.”
“I know.”
Gris shifted slightly, trying to sit up before immediately abandoning the attempt halfway through with a tired groan. His body clearly didn’t agree with his stubborn pride today.
“…Don’t say it.”
Enjin smirked faintly.
“I told you so.”
Gris groaned again and rubbed his face against the blanket in frustration.
“You’re the worst.”
“Yet here I am taking care of you.”
Gris sniffed again.
“…Still the worst.”
Despite the complaints, he didn’t move away when Enjin continued gently stroking his hair. If anything, he slowly relaxed more into the contact, his breathing evening out slightly as the quiet comfort of the moment settled around them.
The house remained peaceful, the soft ticking of the wall clock blending with the faint rustle of fabric whenever Gris shifted slightly beneath the blankets.
After a while Gris spoke again, his voice softer now.
“…I’m tired.”
Enjin glanced down at him.
“You should sleep.”
Gris didn’t argue this time.
His eyes were already half closed.
Within minutes the steady rhythm of his breathing deepened as sleep finally pulled him under. His head slid slightly further onto Enjin’s lap, one arm loosely draped across his own stomach while the blanket shifted with the movement.
Enjin looked down at him.
And completely melted.
Gris was normally loud, stubborn, confident to the point of recklessness. Seeing him quiet like this—soft and flushed and clearly exhausted—felt strangely rare.
Almost unfairly cute.
Enjin let out a quiet breath and leaned his head back against the couch, still gently brushing his fingers through Gris’s hair. Every now and then Gris made a small sleepy noise or shifted slightly under the blankets, but he didn’t wake up.
Enjin couldn’t stop smiling.
“…You’re ridiculous,” he murmured quietly.
The words held no real annoyance.
Just warmth.
Time passed slowly.
At some point the sunlight shifted across the floor, creeping toward the couch as the afternoon faded into early evening. Enjin had been careful not to move too much, not wanting to wake the sleeping man on his lap.
Unfortunately, that peaceful moment didn’t last forever.
The front door suddenly opened.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway.
Then Zanka’s voice rang out casually.
“I’m home—”
He stopped mid-sentence when he stepped into the living room.
His eyes landed immediately on the couch.
And the scene in front of him.
Gris asleep under a mountain of blankets.
His head resting comfortably on Enjin’s lap.
Enjin slowly petting his hair.
Zanka blinked once.
Then again.
“…What.”
Enjin glanced up calmly.
“He’s sick.”
Zanka stared at them.
“He looks like a burrito.”
“He went out in the rain last night.”
Zanka sighed and rubbed his face.
“…Of course he did.”
Enjin nodded.
“Exactly.”
Zanka walked closer and crouched slightly beside the couch, inspecting his father’s flushed face with mild curiosity.
Gris snored softly.
Zanka smirked.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you.”
Enjin shrugged.
“A little.”
Zanka laughed quietly under his breath before standing again.
“Well… good luck with that.”
He started walking toward the stairs before pausing halfway.
“…Don’t let him wander outside again.”
Enjin snorted softly.
“Trust me.”
He looked down at the sleeping man again.
“I won’t”.