Chapter Text
Haruka can't fight back a sympathetic wince while he watches, from the corner of his eye (in order not to be too obvious about it), as Rin loudly blows his nose into an already disgustingly overused looking handkerchief. Rin must feel absolutely miserable: his cheeks are flushed in a way that likely has nothing to do with the cold weather he had to brave on his way over to Haruka's house, his eyes look slightly red around the edges, and he's still shivering underneath the heavy blanket of the kotatsu---despite the fact that Haruka's already working up quite a sweat right next to him, occasionally tugging at his collar in search of some momentary relief from the stifling heat surrounding their lower bodies.
"This sucks!" Rin mutters into the corner of his handkerchief. "Why does this always happen to me during winter break?"
"It's not like we could go swim anyway." Haruka eventually offers, after a long pause in which he made sure to pick and choose his words very carefully. There isn't anywhere for them to go even if Rin had been up to it, after all. The Samezuka pool isn't an option, since Rin decided to spend the majority of the break at home with his mother and sister, and the outdoor pool at Iwatobi High School is currently depressingly devoid of water. "You're not missing out."
"You don't seriously think a little cold like this could stop me from kicking your ass, do you?" Rin complains, absent-mindedly rubbing at the tip of his nose with a cotton covered knuckle. Haruka wants to tell him to stop doing that; the skin already looks painfully irritated.
"You shouldn't go near the water in this state, Rin." Haruka chastises him on auto-pilot, gently nudging their shoulders together to soften the blow. Then he realises just how embarrassing that'd sounded, even more so considering both of them were well aware of the fact that Haruka had learned that particular lesson the hard way (the very hard way), and quickly adds: "You'll get your snot all over the pool."
"Just when I thought you were actually worried about me!"
Rin sighs dramatically and levels Haruka, who merely raises an unimpressed eyebrow at his antics, with with a baleful glare. When Haruka fails to respond to it, Rin weakly crosses his arms into a makeshift pillow and leans forward to slump over the table. The English magazine he'd brought along to show Haruka, a worn issue of Swimming World Magazine he claimed to have found in a bookshop in Australia (but had probably ordered online, that idiot), gets pinned to the table by one of his elbows.
Well, it's not like Haruka had been dying to find out about 'the growing significance of massage for swimming' in the first place. Although he had looked forward to making Rin translate all sorts of irrelevant little blurbs from the Q&A section on proper swim cap care. Becoming increasingly aware of the awkward silence threatening to settle over them, Haruka scrambles for something to say. He settles on: "I'll make you some tea."
Rin nods gratefully, smiling up at Haruka before tiredly letting his eyes fall shut and whispering: "Fetch some more tissues, too?"
Feeling significantly more at ease now he'd finally found a lead on how to deal with the piteously sick Matsuoka in his sitting room, Haruka pushes himself up from the floor and gets to work. First he hits the button on the water boiler; then he makes his way up to his bedroom to retrieve the box of tissues he doesn't exactly keep there for nose-blowing purposes (it's for art, of course), and when he gets back the water has boiled and is nearly ready to be poured out into cups. He busies himself setting those out on a tray, smiling faintly to himself as he squeezes a healthy dose of liquid honey into one of them, while he lets the hot water sit for a couple of minutes.
It takes him a disconcertingly long time to decide on a suitable type of tea to serve, but eventually he picks two little sachets of ginger tea from a Western style selection box his parents had given him on their last visit back 'home'. He's not entirely certain, but he thinks he vaguely remembers his mother telling him ginger roots are good for curing a cold, and the honey would probably have tasted disgusting in the customary green tea. Not that Rin'd be able to taste much of anything at the moment, but he'd probably appreciate the gesture. Soon, the kitchen is filled with the pleasant aroma of freshly set tea and a hint of honey.
Rin doesn't look up when Haruka re-enters the room; his head is still cushioned on his crossed arms, the blanket pooled carelessly in his lap, and it looks like he hasn't moved a single muscle since Haruka had left him there. His eyes are closed, his face partially hidden behind a thick curtain of red hair, and his slightly raspy breathing has slowed noticeably. Haruka walks over, as silently as he can manage while carrying a precariously loaded tray (with two small tea cups filled to the brim), to curiously gaze down at Rin's slumped form. Did he really fall asleep that quickly, and in such an awkward position to boot? He must have been feeling really sick, in that case.
Biting his lip in concentration, Haruka places the tea and tissue box on the table and slides everything as far away from Rin as possible---he wouldn't want Rin to tip over the scalding hot water in his sleep, after all. Despite the uncomfortable looking position, Rin appears to be sleeping very peacefully. Haruka doesn't want to wake him up just yet. Instead he sits down, reclaiming his earlier spot next to Rin, and allows himself the rare indulgence of studying Rin's relaxed and unguarded face.
Haruka hadn't thought it was possible, but Rin's eyelashes look even longer from this angle. They're absolutely ridiculous, Haruka thinks fondly, and makes a conscious effort not to wonder how it'd feel like to have them flutter against his own skin (his cheeks, the soft flesh of his upper arm, and most certainly not the inside of his thighs). He's only ever seen Rin asleep, curled up on the futon next to the bed, in the darkness of his bedroom before. Never like this: in the middle of the sitting room; with the light, from the traditional Japanese fixture directly above, them illuminating every little detail. If Haruka wanted to, he could probably even count the pores on the tip of Rin's sore nose.
Not that he's quite that far gone (yet), mind you. Haruka can't help feeling a touch apprehensive about the kind of thoughts Rin has been inspiring in him lately, not to mention the kind of things Rin so effortlessly makes him feel all the time, but something tells him Rin wouldn't mind hearing about the effect he has on Haruka at all. Might want to encourage it, even. That idea never fails to daunt Haruka, however, because he isn't quite ready to make that leap yet. They'd only just rekindled their friendship a few short months ago. They have all the time in the world to explore exactly what they mean to each other, don't they? There's no need to rush. Some conversations Haruka would rather postpone, especially the one regarding everything that's slowly but surely been happening between them---no matter how inevitable it probably is.
And yet, he simply can't stop himself from reaching out and brushing some of the unruly strands of hair away from Rin's face. The skin underneath his knuckles feels hot and clammy, and Haruka has his palm flush against Rin's forehead before he realises what he's doing. Rin twitches faintly in his sleep, almost as if he wants to nuzzle up into the touch, but he doesn't wake up or move away. Haruka holds his breath as he tries to gauge Rin's temperature; it doesn't feel dangerously hot, however, so he reluctantly removes his hand.
It's just a mild fever. A fever is a good sign, isn't it? It means Rin's body is fighting, and soon he'll be back to his regular obnoxious self; then perhaps Haruka will finally be able to shake the weird feeling he's been getting whenever he allows himself to think about how dreadful Rin must've felt while stubbornly climbing up the unforgiving stone steps all the way up to his front door. Judging by the pitiful state Rin was in right now, it couldn't have been a very pleasant trip for him.
Something snaps deep inside his chest, resonating all the way up to the back of his throat where it almost burns, and suddenly Haruka can't contain that feeling anymore; it bubbles up to the surface, much like the water he'd boiled for the tea, and spreads out over his body like the cloyingly sweet scent of honey in the air. He wants to wake Rin up, to gently shake his shoulder and fit their lips together (regardless of Rin's possibly contagious cold or the little bead of clear snot currently hanging from one of his nostrils). But he can't do that; so he settles for, very slowly, leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss to Rin's exposed forehead instead. Just long enough to take in the dizzying sensation of Rin's feverish skin against lips, and Rin's soft hair tickling his nose. Rin smells like an intoxicating mixture of sweat, laundry detergent and expensive shampoo; Haruka has to pull back before he can get addicted to the scent.
Even with a respectable distance between them once more, Haruka still cannot tear his eyes away from Rin (with his stupidly attractive face, and his perfect hair, and those impossibly soft looking lips...). He doesn't fight the relieved smile tugging at the corner of his lips when Rin merely sighs contently in his sleep, but otherwise doesn't stir, and it only widens as he notices Rin's fingers twitching around the handkerchief---the one Rin's still holding loosely while he dreams, as if he can unconsciously sense Haruka's affectionate gaze on him. Haruka vows to wake him up before his tea gets cold.
Should he fail, he can always heat it up in the microwave later.