Chapter Text
In hindsight, it shouldn't have been a surprise that Rumi is half-demon. That's what she decides to blame on for the fact that she's enjoying the sight of red puffy cheeks, seemingly tearful eyes and hushed breathing more than she should.
She hates to admit it, but on a good day, Baby can be adorable whether he's acting by the maknae persona or acting his real jerk self, and even cuter on a bad day.
"A-chk!"
She's interrupted from her thoughts, blinking twice, then thrice, dumbfounded.
Oh my god.
"You sneeze like a kitten." She says, jaw dropped open.
Teal blue eyes glare straight at her, filled with fire and murder that could kill a man if he had the power. Tragically, it doesn't look half as intimidating when the rest of his person is hidden underneath a heavy blanket, the sides and ups of his face surrounded by soft pillows.
"I hate you." Baby rasps out, low voice gravelly deeper than it usually is, taking inhales as he speaks, muffled under the covers.
It's a surprise he even got sick at all, she didn't think fully fledged demons could actually get sick, because why would the undead even feel ill, or anything at all?
(But that's a contrary in itself too, demons do feel, so much more than they ever gave them credit for. It only makes sense, of course the king of the underworld would not have passed the opportunity to make them suffer more with something as petty as fevers).
Apparently, it is still very much a thing, albeit considered rarer than it is with humans, usually decades in between, or when a demon gets a cold from sheer exhaustion or grievous injuries. And for Baby specifically, atleast a century.
And it's not like this one came out of nowhere. It's only been a month since the Saja Boys released their album, and they've been working non-stop ever since, taking turns on who features on this interview, this collab with who, and so forth and so on. Choreography rehearsals, photo and video shooting for last-minute promotions and social media postings and participating in trends, stretching them thin.
A hand taps into hers, and that shakes her out of it. When she looks at Baby again, his stare is as impassive as ever, but if you know him well enough, there's a twinkle of confusion just so, silently asking where she went.
Rumi shakes her head hastily to clear her head.
Of course she'd be able to make him worry at a time like this.
She holds onto his fingers for a while, circling her thumb across the digits of his fingers before letting go to take off the compress off his head that's turned warm, methodically dipping it into the small tub of ice cold water to put it back on Baby's head.
It's a wonder how normal human approaches are just as effective. Immediately she sees the tension drain bit by bit away from Baby's form, stress lines gone just from the small bite of comfort.
Her heart goes a little bit soft (again) from the sight, only making her want to care for him more. His fever is finally going down, after some few days of her and the boys taking turns over watching him. Jinu's warned that Baby… gets even more of an attitude than he already has whenever he's feeling under the weather or gravely injured, either adamant that he's fine enough, wanting to leave and go about his day, or crankier, a shorter temper as he is that it practically looks like he's throwing a tantrum.
There's another hand towel right by the small tub sitting on the night stand, and Rumi takes it, pulling the covers off and move his shirt until it's below his collarbones so she can dab it against his skin from shoulders and up.
Baby doesn't even complain this time, letting his arms hang in the air so Rumi can reach easier.
It must feel refreshing given his state and all, so much so that Baby's eyelids droop close, letting out a soft exhale while she continues.
By the time she's done, Rumi decides that it's about time to take her leave and let the demon (brat) go to sleep, but just as she's about to get up from the chair, a hand holds onto hers, gripping tight as Baby looks up at her with those damned eyes, what was usually enthralling as much as it's enraging now looks…. pitiful.
"Where are you going?"
"Back to my room?" She phrases it like it's common sense, a hint of humor to play dumb. Baby squints his eyes, the glare coming off of him almost immediately.
"I don't see why you can't stay here."
"Because the chair is uncomfortable, and I don't want my butt to suffer?"
Baby looks at her like she's stupid, but it's hardly as intimidating when he scrunches up his nose to try and avoid another sneeze. She (very kindly, mind you) gives him a moment to catch himself.
"There's a whole fucking bed right here."
Rumi huffs out a sigh. Jinu would call it a pout with that grin on his face, Baby would argue it's her 'dumb' face.
Clingy. Absolutely, annoyingly clingy that it's cute. She already knows he's actually clingy (the clingiest among the boys too, to her newfound delight), but it's still a bit of a surprise, something she's still adjusting to compared to how she saw the demon boy from before and after.
It's actually kinda… sorta… maybe cute.
God, what is happening to her. And to think she used to judge Mira and Zoey for their taste in men.
She didn't understand how Jinu and the others like spoiling Baby so much, constantly enabling him and even moreso. So much brattiness and for what? But now even the barest expressions he makes has Rumi wanting to punch him next to tomorrow, to squeeze him dry until his bones crack, nuzzle up his stupid boyishly handsome cheeks until he screeches at her with that inhumanly deep voice.
Unfortunately, he wouldn't be Baby if he wasn't annoyingly infuriating.
When the Saja Boys and the girls first teamed up, it was Baby who distrusted them the most, constantly egging them on and making vague threats on the slightest chance that they'll betray and perish them along with the many demons they did before, again.
Rumi's taken to talking to Jinu most of the time, but Baby. Keeps. Interrupting.
He's always in the corner, ready to contradict her in every which way, a snide remark or a cruel humorless joke, all flourished with that nonchalant facade.
It was his way of looking out for the boys, his way of making Rumi lose her mind.
So they butt heads. Constantly.
Acid dripped from his tongue, always on edge and ready to brawl and defend whenever they're in the same room. It's not until Gwi-Ma was finally, officially defeated that they relaxed, the tension between then easing somewhat. Not completely, while the others became closer with one another, Rumi wouldn't let up, refuses to back down, so much so that things get physical, from spitting words and bruised fists and swollen cheeks to angry make outs there on the floor until they get the energy out. It worked a little too well, because from then on it was easier to be more amicable, and closer did they get.
A little too close. She still can't believe this brat is the very same one she'd spent nights with.
And now said demon brat is too sick to even be a threat, not so subtly asking her to stay with him, next to him, and she can't help but humor it.
Rumi lets out a sigh, and she'll forever refused to admit that it was laced with fondness.
"Alright fine, scoot."
Let it be known that the so-called pop star royalty has a bit more dignity and is wayyy above petty gestures, but in her defense: It's Baby.
So instead of walking around to the other side like any normal person, Rumi chooses to stand up on the chair, and step over onto the bed to get to Baby's side instead. He should be grateful that she was being nice enough to not step on him.
……Okay sure, maybe Baby is becoming a bad influence on her.
She makes herself comfortable under the covers, a sizable distance between them that it's not as stupid as it exactly looks. It's only then that she remembers she has to take his temperature.
"What are you— mmmphhh!" Baby screeches, completely ignored as Rumi reaches for the thermometer over his night stand. She shoves straight to his mouth, under his tongue with no shame.
Baby glares at her again, but he shuts up and behaves until it's time to take it out, sulking all the while.
37.9°C
Rumi lets out a smile. After placing the thermometer back to its place, she scoots closer to Baby, ruffling his hair in that obnoxious way that always gets on his nerves.
"Good job, you're close to getting better," a pause, "health-wise atleast."
Baby rolls his eyes.
"I don't feel any better. Also—" a cough, "You're a shit nurse. And rude."
His insults barely bother her at this point, feeling her mood lighten. It's been more than a few days since he got sick, as everyone, mostly her and Jinu, scram to fit taking care of him into their crammed schedules, without getting sick themselves.
It's a sweet gesture from the boys, especially when they didn't have to. Huntr/x isn't all that busy compared to them right now.
(It does occur to her that they could all have just left him alone and only check in every now and then, so fine, maybe they all care a little too much.)
Rumi stuffs a pack of tissues right at his face, tone fond.
"Does that mean I get to leave then?" She says this as she twines her legs around Baby's until they are tangled together, leaning her head down his shoulder.
There's a moment where they just stare, blue on brown eyes fixate on each other, close, so close she can feel his breath and his nostrils flare. Baby's mouth closes in a firm line, darting a tongue out to lick puffy entrancing lips. And then he frowns like the daze is gone, moving his lips to the side.
Baby doesn't give her the pleasure of a response from earlier, turning his back on her while undoubtedly leaning back against her.
"Do whatever you want." Baby says, making himself comfortable as he takes her arms over to him.
He tucks himself in deeper into the blanket. Within a minute, she hears him let out a soft exhale, can hear his heart beat slower than before. His body is warm, far warmer than his usually frosty non-existent body heat, but Rumi gets used to it quick enough. Within the next minute, she lets her eyes droop close, hugging Baby tighter against her, falling into a nice, deep, slumber.