Work Text:
Ring ring.
The dial tone screeched in his ear a fourth time. Nanami had been waiting outside the school for ten minutes now. This was horribly out of character for Ijichi. He was the type of man to arrive five minutes early and still apologise for his lateness.
So why, today of all days, was he late?
His phone rang, and the familiar name of Ijichi Kiyotaka flashed on the screen. He swiped at the answer button.
“Hello?” A hoarse voice whispered, breaths wheezing. He hardly recognised Ijichi’s voice. Usually, it was soft and mellow, with an odd, sweet-sounding cadence to it, with an anxious tone. At the moment, these attributes were replaced with something that sounded horrendously painful.
“Hello, Ijichi-san. Is everything alright? I've been waiting for you to pick me up and-“ Nanami was quickly interrupted by a sharp gasp, a painful-sounding sniffle, and the clacking of glasses.
“Oh goodness… I'm terribly sorry, Nanami-san. I've been sick all day and I thought I booked another manager to take you! Give me a few moments, I'll be right there!” He rambled. There was the shuffling of fabric.
Nanami felt himself huff. Of course, Ijichi was going to sacrifice his health for a silly mission. Always the self-sacrificing type. Oh well… If Ijichi wouldn't take care of himself…
“Stay in bed, Ijichi-san. What are your symptoms? You should have told me you were ill.” He scolded, walking down the steps to the school. “What's your address? I'll see if I can get a train to you.”
Ijichi was quiet for a few moments, shuffling softly echoing through the speakers. Then, slowly, Ijichi began to rattle off his address and symptoms. Nanami nodded, letting Ijichi ramble for as long as he needed. Lord knows, no one let him speak his mind.
He stayed on the phone with him as he walked ten minutes down the road to the first train station he could find and checked the map to see which line he needed.
“Ijichi-san? I will be there in half an hour. The next train arrives in ten minutes. Is that alright?” He asked, adjusting his glasses as he went to buy his ticket.
“You don't need to do this-“ Ijichi started, voice raw and thick.
“Shh. I want to. Lay down, I'll be there soon.” He shushed, checking his wallet. He had more than enough to buy Ijichi some soup and lozenges. Perhaps a ‘Get Well Soon’ card would also be in order. He deserved it.
He awoke to a damp cloth swiping over his neck, firm hands pressing his forehead, testing the heat.
“You're burning like an oven, Ijichi.” A low voice whispered, brushing sweaty strands of hair away from his eyes. Soft, nasally and low. Ijichi would usually panic in the presence of his superior, but the soft caress of his hands in his hair lulled the anxiety.
“Nanami..?” Ijichi croaked, hand coming up to grab at Nanami’s wrist, fingernails catching on the ridges of the expensive watch brushing against his temples, cooling his skin.
“I used the spare key under your doormat.” He said simply, before pulling his hands away. This startled a whimper out of Ijichi, the grounding feel of Nanami’s body fading.
A hand slipped beneath his waist, pulling him up to sit against the pillows, flattened and worn. A cold glass was lifted to his lips, and tipped until water streamed down his aching throat.
He felt pitiful.
He looked beautiful, Nanami thought, even whilst sweat-slicked and blanched pale white. Those deep brown eyes stared up at him sleepily with such reverence, as he was force-fed water.
He kept his hand planted firmly on Kiyotaka’s– since when were they on a first-name basis?– back, watching as he greedily swallowed the water down till nothing remained.
He set the glass down on the nightstand. He stood up from his position kneeling on the carpeted floor and came to sit next to Kiyotaka, running his hands through his soft, downy hair.
He felt compelled to grab Kiyotaka’s thin hands and bring them to his lips. Inhale the milky smell of skin, taste the salt in his sweat, Feel the veins pumping beneath his lips.
Kiyotaka let out a sickly cough that had Nanami wishing he could heal him straight away. Comfort him, hold him. Feed him soup and liquid medicine. Nurse him back to health.
He intertwined his fingers with Kiyotaka’s right hand, bringing his palm up to his lips. He felt the soft skin against his chapped lips, salty with the soft under taste of soap. His hands smelt like turmeric.
“It will all be alright, Kiyotaka. I will take care of you.” He whispered, nosing at his wrist. Something woody and mild lingered there. Slightly sweet.
He could feel his pulse. Skipping beats, palpitating, beating far too fast. He slowly looked up to find Kiyotaka’s once-paper-white skin had become a vibrant shade of red. But not the sickly, fever type. He looked more flustered than anything else.
“Take… care of me?” He rasped, starting to look confused, with his eyebrows furrowing and his soft lips turning into a frown.
“I thought you had come here to tell me off.” He whispered, flexing his fingers nervously, leaning back. Still drowsy, it seemed.
“Never.” Nanami huffed. A pause. “Sometimes. But this isn't some sort of formatting mistake in a report, Kiyotaka-kun. This is your health.” He whispered, slipping his hand back under Kiyotaka’s waist to lay him down.
“Kiyotaka-kun?” He muttered, frowning. “I don't recall us discussing first names…” He whispered, leaning into Nanami’s arms.
“We didn't.” He stated, lifting the blankets and slipping in next to him. “But I decided it was more fitting.”
It was silent for a few minutes. So quiet, Nanami thought Ijichi had fallen asleep. Then-
“Okay then, Kento.”
Now Nanami was the one blushing.