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He's not gonna make it.
Kaminari's phone rests quietly on the table, just out of reach. Alluring. Maybe it's the meds talking, but Kaminari swears it's batting its eyelashes.
The 'stir-crazy' is definitely setting in. How many days has he been stuck here, on the couch, yearning for death? Well, he can pout, or he can be the grown man he fervently hopes he is, and take care of the task currently at the tip-top of his priority list.
With his very bones aching, Kaminari hoists himself upward, allowing himself one pitiful groan. Grabs his phone. He can do this. His fingers scrabble weakly for the receipt, flicking used tissues and empty blister packs to the floor.
He hates making calls like this. He's always been a bit phone-avoidant anyway, but actually calling to… complain? I'm not calling to 'complain'. A mistake was made, and I'm calling to get it fixed. That's all. These people are paid to handle stuff just like this. I'm not 'bothering' them by calling.
But he really doesn't have the energy for much of anything, so his pep-talk rings hollow, devoid of the aforementioned 'pep'. With the line ringing steadily in his ear, he lets himself slump back to the couch, eyes falling closed.
"Ranchi Rasshu Grocers, how may I direct your call?"
"Um… I need to talk to someone about a grocery delivery?" Kaminari rasps, his eyes flying wide at the sound of his own voice. Holy hell, I sound like I've been smoking two packs a day for the better part of a century.
"Hold, please."
It takes Kaminari approximately two and a half seconds to register that the hold music is AMAZING. He has never heard such brilliance. If forced to describe it, he'd have to go with… space music, which sounds suspiciously 'high' of him. This does not keep him from taking his own cosmic journey, however brief, as he waits for someone to pick up the phone.
"Ranchi Rasshu Grocers, Online Ordering and Delivery! Kirishima speaking, how-"
Kaminari hears nothing past the man's name, his body choosing that very moment to revolt. By the time he stops hacking, his abs hurt, and there's spit, snot, and lord knows what else strung between his face and his free hand. "Oh my god," Kaminari moans, the man's frantic 'sir, are you okay?' in the background sparking enough guilt in Kaminari's mind to have him very seriously considering hanging up.
"I'm sorry," he tries instead. "I've kinda… got a little thing."
"You aren't kidding! Holy crap, dude! I thought I was listening to someone's death rattle! You gonna be okay?"
"I mean… I hope so?" Pulling himself up straight, Kaminari grabs the tissues and makes an attempt to clean himself up.
There's a pause, and Kaminari realizes the guy still has no idea why he's calling. "Oh uh… So I had my groceries delivered this afternoon, and I just realized I'm missing some stuff. That I paid for."
"Oh no! I'm really sorry to hear that! Let's get this figured out for you! Do you have your receipt?"
Making a vaguely affirmative sound, Kaminari squints at it, lip curling. It didn't escape unscathed, either. Kaminari snags another tissue.
"Your order number should be right at the top. Four digits."
Kaminari provides it, listening to the guy typing, and nearly chokes again when he hears a quiet 'oh for fuck's sake'. "I'm sorry?" Kaminari squeaks, and he knew it, he KNEW it, he should never make another phone call, he is ruining this man's LIFE.
"Oh god! I'm sorry about that. No, we just… Hey, I'm gonna transfer you to my manager, okay?" Kaminari wonders if he's somehow in trouble. Speaking to the manager sounds kinda scary, doesn't it? Is that really necessary? Before Kaminari can apologize for existing and hang up, the guy continues. "I'm probably not supposed to tell you this, but… You're like the fifth person to have a complaint with this particular driver, today."
Kaminari's head tilts, lips tugging down. He supposes he's not surprised; he wasn't exactly… thrilled with her. "Oh," he mumbles, and the man laughs.
"Yeah. Anyhow, I'll transfer you now. He'll be able to help you out, alright? And man, I hope you get to feeling better!"
"Oh wow, thank you," Kaminari forces out, a bit horrified at the moisture gathering in his eyes. Is he really so damned pitiful? He has a COLD, for god's sake! He isn't dying! He pushes back his pleased squeal (that will DEFINITELY make him cough) and savors the human kindness.
"Sure thing! Have a great night!"
Kaminari feels his shoulders sagging, tension releasing as he resumes his interstellar flight. A particularly good synth riff has him exhaling a reverent 'yessssssss' that he doesn't manage to fully cut off before there's a voice on the other end.
"Ranchi Rasshu Groc- Sir?"
"Oh god," Kaminari grits, certain he's never participated in such a difficult and mortifying phone conversation in his life.
"Good evening, sir. This is Iida speaking. It has come to my attention that you had some difficulties with your order, this afternoon. I'd like to resolve this as quickly as possible. Kirishima-san has provided me with your order number. Am I speaking with Kaminari-san?"
Kaminari's embarrassment evaporates, his eyes blinking slowly as he searches himself for the ability to speak. This dude's voice… "I… Yes. Kaminari reporting."
The silence on the line only lasts for a heartbeat, and then there's a soft laugh that sends Kaminari reeling. I gotta back off these cold meds. I feel like a lunatic.
"Very good," the man chuckles. "So what seems to be the issue?"
Can I just talk to you for the rest of the night? Kaminari nods slowly, pleased he can still have thoughts that don't barrel directly from his lips. "Right, um… So I'm missing some stuff. Mostly canned goods."
Kaminari begins reciting his missing items, starting with that DAMNED CAN of chicken noodle soup, which was the only thing in the world he ever wanted prior to hearing the low, warm rumbling of this stranger's voice. What did he say his name was? Kirishima? No, that was the guy before. "...box of instant potatoes, two cans of chicken broth and what was your name, again?"
"Iida, sir."
"Iida," Kaminari sighs, and FUCK, here comes the embarrassment, again. That was a sex-sigh. Kaminari grimaces, shooting the box of medication on his table a mortified scowl.
"I… correct. So I believe I understand what happened. Each tote is labeled with the customer's name and the specific items packed inside. It seems your driver missed one of your totes."
"Gotcha," Kaminari scratches out. Oh god, he needs to cough, again. He scrambles for his water.
"We can have someone run them out to you as soon as they are available," Iida continues, and Kaminari does his best to concentrate, fighting off the tickle at the back of his throat. "Your driver will-"
Welp. He tried. At least this time, when Kaminari finally pulls in a full breath, it is mostly water splashed all over his clothes. "Noooo… I'm so sorry, I'm really sick and I keep doing this and I just kinda want to die, you know?"
"Oh my goodness!" Iida cries, and Kaminari is alright with that. The man sounds good worked up. "You must be feeling terrible! I'm so very sorry this has happened at such a difficult time, for you." A sympathetic groan floats over the line, and Kaminari shakes his head, directing an exasperated glare at his sweatpants. He may feel like shit, but clearly some parts of him are still feeling sassy.
"It's not the end of the world," Kaminari mumbles, unsure if he is attempting to reassure Iida or himself. "I maybe just wanted some chicken noodle soup."
"Which is perfectly understandable!" Iida agrees, 'tsk'ing his tongue. "What a mess. Forgive me, but I've been dealing with the fallout from this driver's carelessness all day, and this is just… You are ill. You should be in bed, resting, not tracking down a bin of missing groceries."
Eyes darting to the sofa, Kaminari huffs a quiet laugh; blankets everywhere, a sea of wadded up tissues spreading in a nearly perfect circle from their epicenter. Which is him. He is the eye of the storm. He hasn't crept off of this couch for longer than it takes to use the restroom in three days. "Does the couch count?" he hears himself ask, and genuinely smiles for the first time in what feels like forever when Iida chuckles.
"It certainly does, Kaminari-san."
OH SHIT, HE SOUNDS SO SEXY WHEN HE SAYS MY NAME…
"Well," Iida sighs, and Kaminari hears the rapidfire clicking of a keyboard. "I have no interest in attempting to rectify this situation, only for another mistake to be made." Kaminari has no idea what that means, but it sounds like serious business, so he waits quietly, wondering what happens next. "How frustrating," Iida mutters, obviously to himself.
"I'm really sorry to be a bother," Kaminari offers, starting to feel worse for the dude than he feels for himself. "Honestly, I probably wouldn't even have-"
"KAMINARI-SAN, this is in no way your fault!"
"Geh!" Kaminari squeaks in reply, the man's booming voice nearly startling the phone from his grasp.
"I simply wish you weren't having to deal with this, in your condition! You sound as if you are on death's doorstep!"
"Iida… san, it's fine," Kaminari finds himself giggling. "I'm not dying."
"Perhaps not, but for heaven's sake. You are hungry. This is just… Please give me a moment."
Before Kaminari can even reply, the universe unfolds before him, and he rides the wave of a galactic harp melody, his eyes sliding shut. I kinda wanna call this place every day, and just… ask them to put me on hold.
"Kaminari-san?" Iida chirps after a few moments, and Kaminari realizes if it had been anything but this guy's voice, he actually would have been annoyed at the interruption.
"Your hold music is orgasmic," Kaminari breathes. And immediately begs any gods listening for death.
A surprised guffaw bursts over the line, and Kaminari grinds his teeth so hard his jaw protests. "You know," Iida snickers, Kaminari shaking his head and mouthing 'no no no'. "You are not the first person to tell me that."
"You've had more than just my dumb ass use the word 'orgasm' with you on a customer service call?" Kaminari snorts, and then they're both laughing.
"No… Not that exact phrasing. But the hold music seems to be quite popular."
"Well, this cold may not kill me, but I kinda WISH I were dead. I can't believe I said that. I'm… on a lot of meds."
"I completely understand," Iida soothes, and Kaminari maybe believes him a little bit. He sounds so genuine. "At any rate, I'd like to get your groceries to you as quickly as possible. My assistant is gathering them now. Will you be present at the residence listed in fifteen minutes?"
"Believe me. I'm not going anywhere. I might actually be stuck to the couch cushions, but it's too much trouble to check."
Iida's rumbly little laugh sends Kaminari's heart cartwheeling. "Very good, then. I'll see you soon. Do not hesitate to call back, if you need anything before I arrive."
"I… What?"
"Thank you, Kaminari-san! We'll get this sorted right away!"
There is no lilting stellar cymbal-crash to comfort him now. Just dead silence. His heart offers a pathetic thump.
DEAR GOD, NO! Kaminari leaps from the sofa with more energy than he's had in days, rushing to the bathroom and skidding to a horrified stop in front of the mirror. It's worse than he thought.
There are dried streaks of spittle and god knows what else criss-crossing his t-shirt, which SMELLS, his t-shirt smells, when is the last time he changed it? He looks like a ghoul, dark circles beneath his eyes and hair stiff and arching, like it's trying to swan dive from his scalp.
Now that he's thinking about it, he can't remember the last time he brushed his teeth… "Nooooo oh SHIT," he whimpers, fist clenching around his toothbrush. I cannot believe the Bruce Wayne of Phone Sex Operators is on his way HERE… Oh sure, he may be a grocery store manager by DAY, but at night…
Kaminari does his best, unable to spend more than a minimal amount of time on his nasty mouth, splashing water over his face and not even bothering with the towel. Dripping, he lunges into his bedroom, breaths coming heavy, and rips off his shirt.
He doesn't have the stamina for this. He can feel another coughing fit coming on, and decides he might as well get it over with BEFORE donning a new shirt. He's still trying to catch his breath when he stumbles back into the hallway, 'fresh' t-shirt on inside out, cursing his lack of attention to his laundry.
At least this one doesn't smell. Much. He hopes. Honestly, how would he know? His nasal passages have been the gifts that keep on giving for seventy-two solid hours. With a petulant whine that nearly sets him off into another round of hacking, he hurries back to the bathroom. Of course he has to pee. Because life hasn't been hard enough.
God, I'm starting to feel dizzy. I need to lay down, but… Kaminari's eyes land on his socks, and a pained whimper bubbles in his chest.
Fuzzy. Thick. Pink. Little cartoon cock'n'balls festooned across them. They had been a gag gift from a friend of his, years ago, and had become 'the sickness socks' in Kaminari's mind. They are so warm, so comforting…
He's nearly given up, sprawled exhausted on his bed with one sock clutched in a desperate fist, when the doorbell rings. Kaminari drags himself upright, sock falling from his fingers, and heads for the door. It doesn't matter, anyway.
He's probably a 60-year old man with a beer gut and no hair, Kaminari thinks, in an attempt to placate himself. Has a wife and four children, and takes them to Shakespeare in the Park on weekends. Reads the newspaper unironically. Sorts his World War II documentaries in alphabetical order by narrator.
Kaminari's eyes skip purposefully over the living room. The dude knows he's sick. An entire room covered in used tissue is normal, right?
He manages a chuckle as his hand reaches for the knob. What in the actual hell was he freaking out about? The guy felt bad for him, and was trying to help out. He's not expecting Kaminari to open the door in a freshly pressed suit or anything.
Kaminari lifts his head as the door swings open, a smile on his face, and every single word or thought vacates his mind completely. The man is staggering. Huge. That smile. His eyes. Kaminari has never felt so gay.
"Kaminari-san!" Iida gushes, bustling into the house, and Kaminari is too stunned to do much more than lift his eyebrows. "I got here as quickly as I could." Iida proceeds to the kitchen like he owns the damned place, leaving Kaminari blinking in the foyer.
"Your groceries are in this bag," Iida hollers, and Kaminari hears rustling. "This other bag has things I brought because I thought you might need them. Some cold-packs, chamomile tea, and… Kaminari-san?" Iida's head pops back around the doorway, and Kaminari stifles a laugh.
Who the fuck IS this guy? He spent his own money on… things I might need? "You…" Kaminari croaks, then clears his throat. "You brought me tea?"
"I hope that's alright! Oh my word, you should lie down; you look like you're about to faint!" Before Kaminari can fully register what's happening, Iida is leading him to the sofa, brushing aside the detritus and patting the cushion. Kaminari has nothing to say. The man is a force of nature.
With eyes wide, Kaminari folds into the couch, Iida pulling a blanket up to his chin. "I hope it isn't presumptuous of me, Kaminari-san, but I took the liberty of bringing ingredients for homemade chicken noodle soup. The nutritional value is higher, and of course the taste is superior. If you don't mind, I'll just…"
Iida finally seems to notice the blank shock painting Kaminari's features. "Oh…" His cheeks flush prettily. Kaminari was wrong. NOW he feels gay. "It IS presumptuous, isn't it. Mercy, sometimes I just act without thinking. My sincere apologies, Kamina-"
"I don't mind," Kaminari pushes out, eyes locked on those blushing cheeks. "You can stay."
Iida's beaming grin is more beautiful than a theremin-fueled cruise across the cosmos. "Wonderful! I'm not a bad chef, if I do say so myself…" Iida is already hustling to the kitchen, and Kaminari lets his eyes close, listening to Iida opening cabinets and drawers.
"Lemme know if you need help finding anything," it occurs to Kaminari to say. Was he always this weak to oversized, puppy-dog-type men? A vision of his ex throwing an excited fist into the air, grinning wildly and screaming 'french fries really get my blood boiling!' forces his lips into a flat line.
Who knows. Maybe the guy's a murderer. Maybe Kaminari is gonna wake up tied to his plumbing or something. But when Iida shushes him, assuring him he can find what he needs, and tells him to rest… Well, Kaminari does.
When Iida wakes him an hour later, the house smelling of chicken and aromatics and everything good Kaminari has ever known, offering to feed him… Kaminari grabs his hand, unable to help himself, and asks him out. He isn't sure whether it's the soup or Iida's giggled 'sure', but suddenly, Kaminari feels better than he has in days.