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When Suguru comes back from a solo mission in Osaka, the first person he meets in the school yard is Nanami, who’s on his way to leave.
“Geto-san,” the freelance sorcerer greets him. “Perfect timing.”
Nanami’s voice is polite as ever, but his face clearly shows that he is done with this life. Suguru knows exactly what could wear a man down like this. He sighs; the holidays are over.
“Where’s he?” Suguru asks casually.
“In your quarters.” Nanami answers; his eyes twitch at the corners. “Ieiri-san threw him out of the infirmary two hours and twenty-four minutes ago. I’ve been stuck with him ever since.”
“The infirmary?” Suguru frowns, surprised.
“He’ll explain. My shift has ended, I don’t care anymore. If you’ll excuse me, I will take my leave now.”
Suguru could almost feel sorry for him, if Nanami didn’t look so politely thrilled about letting him deal with whatever bullshit Satoru came up with, today.
“I won’t keep you longer. Have fun, Nanami!” Suguru waves at him and turns around toward the dorms.
“Geto-san,” Nanami calls him back and nods at him gravely. “Welcome back.”
Suguru smiles at him then heads out to the room he shares with Satoru.
He finds him in bed, curled under the blankets like a giant white-haired silkworm.
“Suguruuu!” his lover greets him with a particularly hoarse voice. “I missed you so much, everyone’s been so mean to me and I’m dying!”
So that’s what it’s all about; a complicated case of Drama-Flu.
Suguru chuckles, sitting at the edge of the bed and sliding his fingers in Satoru’s ruffled white hair. His cheeks are reddened and his eyes gleam feverishly.
“Dying, really? That’s too bad. I guess I’ll give your souvenirs to charity.”
“Souvenirs?” Satoru asks, eyeing the bags Suguru has left in the entrance.
“Yes. Osaka’s finest monaka. The ones you like, with cream and candied azuki beans.”
Satoru’s eyes light up with interest.
“Why did you leave them in the entrance?”
“Because I don’t want them contaminated with whatever germs you’re spreading around.”
“Yet you’re groping me.” Satoru says dubitatively.
“A man has to know when to seize an opportunity.”
Satoru grumbles and wriggles in the bed until his head rests on Suguru’s lap. His forehead is burning hot.
“You have a fever, Satoru.” Suguru states flatly.
“Kiss me better?”
“So I catch your germs and die too? No, thank you.”
“You don’t love me.” Satoru whines. His voice is not as loud as it should be.
Suguru grins and kisses his forehead.
“Did Shôko give you something?”
“Yeah. The cold shoulder.”
Suguru chuckles.
“I don’t really blame her, I heard you’ve been awful.”
“What?!” Satoru’s head jerks with outrage. “I’m the victim here! I’m the one who’s sick and dying.”
“Why don’t you just use reverse technique?”
Satoru stares at him blankly.
“I want chicken soup and healing kisses.”
Suguru shakes his head with a mix of amusement and annoyance.
“You’re a spoiled brat, babe. I suppose Nanami didn’t want to kiss you better?”
“He’s so mean, Suguru.”
“He’s stoic. He wouldn’t have stayed with you if he wasn’t.”
“Suguruuuu, stop being mean too! Are you going to kiss me or what?”
“If I end up sick, I’ll kick your ass.”
“I’ll let you do whatever you want with my ass.”
“Shut up, Satoru.”
* * * * * *
Three days later, Suguru wakes up with a burning fever and a sore throat. Well. He had it coming. Satoru still refuses to use reverse technique and clings onto him like a very tall and very handsome leech.
Suguru mildly wonders if he could bribe Shôko into cooking them chicken soup. Although, considering the woman doesn’t seem to ingest anything that doesn’t contain caffeine or alcohol, it’s probably a bad idea. Which only leaves him with one option.
“Hey, Satoru. What’s Nanami’s phone number?”