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AHizashi groans, coughing into a tissue as he stumbles down the hallway. His chest burns from coughing, his eyes watery and his cheeks flushed. Ever since he awoke, he felt so incredibly awful, but he dragged himself in for work. Except now he wishes he hadn’t.
He coughs again, hacking up phlegm into his tissue, and throws the tissue into the nearest trash can. His fingers fumble as he pulls the mask back up over his face, covering his nose and mouth with the white fabric. Hizashi’s legs are like wood, but he manages to make it into the faculty lounge.
Most of the other teachers look at him, and even without the mask, they can tell he is sick.
Nemuri tilts her head to the side. “You look dreadful. Why did Shouta let you go out like this?”
“He isn’t my keeper, you know,” Hizashi says, flopping onto a couch. “And he wasn’t home. He’s been out on patrol all night. Look, I’ll be fine.”
At this point, Shouta walks into the room. He stares at Hizashi. “What do you look like?”
He waves awkwardly. “Morning, Shou.”
“Hizashi, you look awful. Why didn’t you phone in sick?” Shouta says.
Hizashi sighs. “I’ll be fine, really.”
But when he stands up, his head spins and Hizashi slumps back onto the couch. Shouta is at his side in an instant, rubbing his back. “You were saying?”
Hizashi smiles weakly, slumping against Shouta.
“Go home sick,” Shouta says.
He sighs heavily, making himself cough. “Fine.”
Shouta stands up, turning to Principal Nedzu. “Principal. Can I request a day’s leave to look after Hizashi, who needs to go home sick?”
“You don’t need to do that, Shou,” Hizashi says. To be honest, he’d love to have Shouta looking after him, but it isn’t necessary.
But Nedzu smiles. “Of course. If I remember correctly, you haven’t had a day off of work for months. Just make sure to take good care of him.”
Shouta gives him one of his rare smiles. “I will.”
And that’s when he decides it: if he has to feel like crap, he’s at least going to get as much sympathy and pampering as possible.
---
At home, Shouta pulls off Hizashi’s directional speaker, headphones and leather jacket and shoes, and pushes him towards the bed.
“Into bed, now,” he says. “You need to rest. If you can manage it, I’d change into your pyjamas. If not, you should be fine like this.”
Hizashi looks down at himself, taking in his T-shirt and leather pants, and runs his fingers through his gelled hair to try and get it to lay flat. And then he climbs into bed and pulls the blankets up to his chest.
“Now wait here for a second,” Shouta says, walking out of the room. He returns with the first aid kit, and opens it as he sits on the foot of their bed. “So, how are you feeling?”
Hizashi smiles, rubbing his sore chest. “Not too good. Hey, you make an awesome nurse, Shou!”
Shouta rolls his eyes and sticks a digital thermometer into his ear. When it beeps, he pulls it out and looks at it. He frowns.
“Shou, are you okay?”
“Hizashi, you’re… your fever is awful. Look.”
Shouta holds out the thermometer. The screen says 39.9. That’s real bad. Hizashi gulps.
“Shou? What should we do?” he asks, suddenly realising just how burning hot he is.
Shouta puts a hand on his arm; his hand is so cold – no, Hizashi’s arm is hot.
“You need a lukewarm bath,” Shouta says, and he leads Hizashi into the bathroom.
He soon finds himself sat in a tepid bath, arms wrapped around his chest. He’s naked, but Hizashi feels far too ill to even begin to think about his dysphoria. Yeah, Shouta can see his mastectomy scars and others things about his body that make it clear he is trans, but he feels like he’s boiling alive right now, so he can barely process the dysphoria at the back of his mind.
Still, at least his temperature is starting to drop. The last reading said it’s 39.2 instead.
Shouta sits on the closed toilet seat, watching Hizashi. He won’t leave Hizashi in here alone, just in case he drowns or something, which Hizashi finds more endearing than annoying.
And as Hizashi sits in the bathwater, he remembers his plan to get pampered whilst feeling like utter crap. So he looks at Shouta, trying to stop his teeth chattering, from his fever and smiles as best as he can.
“What do you want?” Shouta says, eyebrows raised.
“While I’m here, can you help me wash my hair?”
Shouta sighs, but smiles. “Fine.”
---
An hour or so later, Hizashi is back in bed. He’s only wearing his underpants and covered by a single sheet. His damp hair hangs down his back, and he doesn’t shiver nearly as bad.
Shouta takes the thermometer from his ear again, and nods. “That’s much better. Thirty eight point three.”
“Awesome!” Hizashi says in English, and immediately starts coughing.
Shouta shoves a tissue into his hand and Hizashi coughs into it, his lungs on fire as he coughs up phlegm into the tissue. He groans, his coughs getting loud when his Quirk accidentally activates, and Shouta’s hand is on his back, rubbing circles.
Finally, it ends. Hizashi slumps back against the pillows, letting out a shuddering breath.
“Are you feeling any better?” Shouta asks.
He nods. “A bit. Thanks.”
“Not a problem. Is there anything you need?”
Hizashi looks at Shouta. Remembers his idea. Manages a weak smile.
“Could… could you bring in the TV and stay in here with me and have a cuddle?”
Shouta rolls his eyes. “Of course.”
---
When Hitoshi gets home from school, having heard that Dad and Papa went home because Dad is sick, he finds a few things are different. First of all, Dad and Papa aren’t in the living room. And the TV is missing. What the hell?
“Dad? Papa?” he calls.
He wanders through the apartment, noticing that his parents’ bedroom door is open. Hitoshi approaches the doorway, and his eyes widen.
Dad and Papa are in bed together, Dad half naked with a flannel resting against his forehead. Papa sits beside him, his arm around Dad’s shoulders. The TV is at the end of the bed, showing the home screen of an anime DVD that has finished. Dad is flushed and sweaty, and bottles of cough syrup and a thermometer rest on the bedside table.
They’re fast asleep, cuddled up together like the adorable idiots his fathers are.
Hitoshi smiles and raises his eyebrows, and heads off to make dinner. He knows Dad loves ramen, so he might as well make him his favourite meal. Knowing Dad, be probably wants people to pamper him.
And as the ramen cooks, Hitoshi rests a bottle of iced tea on the bedside table in their bedroom and smiles when he sees them cuddling in their sleep. And he hopes Dad will feel better soon.