Work Text:
It has been raining for the past couple of days.
Matsubase was never a fan of such weather. But who was? Sure, the rain might be calming when you’re sitting inside a warm, cozy room, but it turned into an annoying inconvenience the moment you actually had something important to do - like work, buying groceries, or…whatever responsible people do. For Matsubase, the biggest bother was probably having to commute to work in such weather, even though he doesn’t live that far away. And the fact that his whole body hurt whenever it was raining so profusely. Maybe he was getting old, though the ache in his eye and leg somehow remained no matter what age he was.
Well, today those things weren’t his main issue. It was the pile of used tissues that kept growing as his dear assistant kept throwing them in the bin. Or the constant sneezing and coughing. Or the fact that Yashiro overall didn’t look too well.
He was paler than usual, which made the red spots on his face even more prominent - his nose, pink-ish from the number of times he had wiped his nose today, and under his lower eyelids, probably irritated from wiping his glassy eyes too often. Not to mention that a strand of his hair was dangling on his forehead, making Matsubase feel uncanny. Yashiro’s hair was always styled meticulously, kept brushed to his right side, and held by a hair gel that he always spent sweet time applying. The first time he saw him with his hair completely down, back when they shared a room during Sachi’s case, he nearly recoiled with surprise.
Even sitting at his desk, he could easily see how his assistant tried to suppress the shivers that ran through him every other second. Worst of all, Yashiro hasn’t said a word about any of this! Did he really think Matsubase wouldn’t notice? And why would he come to work sick, anyway? He always thought Yashiro was the responsible one, someone who valued health above all…hell, Yashiro was the type of person to eat those healthier - tasteless, in Matsubase’s opinion - versions of store-bought yoghurts and breads and relentlessly scold Matsubase for always settling on instant junk food! Disregarding his own health was Matsubase’s field of specialty, not the man’s who brought a suitcase packed with medicine to a short work trip.
The detective decided he had had enough of this the moment Yashiro violently sneezed two times in a row, knocking a pile of files to the floor.
“That’s it.” He sighed, standing up to get closer to Yashiro and helping him pick up the mess. “What’s wrong with you today?“
Yashiro looked taken aback for a moment, until his expression shifted into simple resignation. “I think I’m a bit sick,” He muttered, and Matsubase could just tell he had a stuffed nose by the way his voice sounded.
“I can tell.” Matsubase chuckled, putting the papers back in their place. “You should’ve messaged me and just stayed home.”
Yashiro nodded, ashamed.
“I know, I know…” He agreed through the coughs that interrupted him. He covered his mouth with the crook of his elbow while Matsubase moved his hand up and down his back in a reassuring manner. “...But there’s so much work to do…” He gestured to the pile they’ve just picked up.
“It’s just paperwork, I can handle that by myself.” He rubbed his temple at his assistant’s stupidity.
To be honest, Matsubase felt pretty bad. He was glad Yashiro didn’t want to leave him alone with all the files and reports - definitely not his favorite area of work - but this was too far. One day without Yashiro wouldn’t kill him, I’d just be much more…quiet. Boring.
Well, it’s not like Yashiro’s of much use in that state anyway.
“Alright!” He clasped his hands together, drawing Yashiro’s attention. “That’s all for today. We’re going home.”
Yashiro’s eyes widened. “What?”
“You heard me.” Matsubase smiled.
“But-”
“No buts. You’re way too sick to work; you look like you’re about to drift off.” He waved him off. Something in Yashiro’s expression shifted, like he suddenly understood something. Maybe it was Matsubase’s slightly tense tone that helped him notice that the older man was simply just worried. The thought made him feel strangely warm - though that may have been courtesy of his illness instead.
“And your coughing and sneezing is annoying me,” Matsubase added as if to ruin whatever thoughts Yashiro was having.
“...Right.”
Matsubase walked over to their shared clothing hanger and passed Yashiro his jacket. “You go first, I’ll close up, grab a few things from my place, and come over.” He said as if it was obvious.
“Come over? Why?” Yashiro asked, a bit dumbfounded. Matsubase has never been to his apartment yet, contrary to how Yashiro was used to spending time at the detective’s place.
“Last time I was sick, you took care of me,” Matsubase murmured, quite ashamed to recall the memory. A few months ago, he caught a cold, and Sachi, as per usual, got worried and called Yashiro for his aid. Even though she’d seen a person with a common cold once before, she still couldn’t help but panic. It didn’t help that, god bless, she herself hasn’t gotten sick yet. To ease her worry, Yashiro treated the matter with grave seriousness, nursing Matsubase back to health and being there for him almost 24/7. Sachi was grateful - and Matsubase was embarrassed. “Guessed I should return the favour.”
“You’re not indebted to me just because I helped you,” Yashiro’s voice sounded way too weak for Matsubase’s liking. “I did that because I care for you.” He confessed as if it were obvious. Like he didn't care that Matsubase averted his gaze, unused to hearing such sincere words. What was Yashiro even thinking, blurting out something like that?
Matsubase stayed silent for a short while. He sighed. Emotional confessions like these weren’t his thing, but he had to convince Yashiro somehow.
“And I care for you,” He said firmly, though the words certainly didn’t come out of his throat easily. It was hard to match Yashiro's prowess in expressing honesty, but Matsubase's words were true. “So let me help, too.”
Yashiro huffed a small laugh, but before he could give any kind of response, he broke out in a fit of coughs. Matsubase sighed. Did Yashiro really ignore his health just to help him with some meaningless papers? Nothing was important enough to rationalize coming to work in that state. He must've taken a whole load of medication to keep himself on his toes. His head must be burning up, too.
“I’ll take that as an agreement. Get out.” He jokingly kicked Yashiro out. The poor guy couldn’t even protest as he was relentlessly attacked by his illness. At least this time it worked in Matsubase's favour. Well, every instance of Yashiro not being able to talk back worked in Matsubase's favour, but this time, he had a reason to be bossy.
So, now that Yashiro had gone home, Matsubase had to think about what he needed to do. What was Yashiro sick with, anyway? He didn’t think it was just a common cold, like in his case, but it obviously wasn’t life-threatening either. Maybe a flu? That seemed like a realistic option. Matsubase felt glad he sent Yashiro home - after all, everyone knew that the best weapon against the flu is a lot of rest. He hoped Yashiro had common sense and went to bed instead of doing anything else.
First of all, he knew he had to go home and change his clothes. It’s not like he minded being in a suit, but going to Yashiro’s place in it would feel weird. Too formal.
Besides, Yashiro should eat something warm, so he’ll grab some ingredients on his way home and try to make something for him…yeah, maybe a soup. How hard can it be? If it doesn’t work out, he’ll just grab something from a restaurant on his way to Yashiro.
He also needs to visit a pharmacy. Since the illness being a flu is just his hunch, he can’t exactly just buy the specific medicine, but simple painkillers and fever reducers should help. Maybe he’ll buy a cough suppressant, too. Yashiro seemed to be struggling with them a lot. Being able to boss him around without any complaints is fun, but he missed their usual banter. Being able to boss him around and hear his annoyed reactions was even better.
It’s going to be a long day, that’s for sure.
A few minutes after closing the office, he’s standing in a supermarket. In the vegetable section, to be more precise. Not a likely place for him to be. He’s holding his phone, looking at the ingredients list. On his way there, he decided to make a simple miso soup. He thought of rice porridge, but to be completely honest, he doesn’t trust himself enough with proportions. Besides, it’s a bit too bland for him, and he can admit he doesn’t have the skills or ideas for fancy toppings.
The soup meets every requirement - warm, easy on the stomach, and simple enough. Matsubase might not be a chef - far from it - but he’d like to believe that he can manage to make the most common dish he knows. Even if he usually settles for instant food or takeout, he does attempt to cook by himself from time to time. He's not the biggest fan of soups; he prefers solid, filling food like meat, so he has never tried to make one by himself, but there's a first time for everything. The idea of Yashiro's face lighting up as he hears that Matsubase spent time cooking just for him is too tantalizing not to try. Since Yashiro's usually his babysitter, or maid, or whatever he calls himself when complaining, Matsubase can play the nurse this one time.
He chose the ingredients carefully, making sure he had everything. After all, he couldn’t just send Yashiro to buy things he forgot this time. That's what usually happens when he has his cooking episodes - not to mention that they usually don't end well, and Yashiro ends up being forced to clean up his mess. He checked out and, looking at the shelf behind the cashier, only then realized he had only smoked one cigarette today! Fortunately for his health, unfortunately for his peace of mind, he couldn’t afford to waste time at the moment. Instead, he promised himself more than usual for the evening. The sacrifices he's making for Yashiro...
He made his way into the nearest pharmacy. It didn’t take him much time to choose the medicine he wanted to buy since he had already decided on the way. He couldn't help but overthink it - after all, this was something Yashiro would take into his body. He couldn't afford to buy anything carelessly. He assumed Yashiro already had painkillers - since he must’ve been packed with them during his short time at work - and a thermometer, so he settled on the fever reducer, cough suppressant, and a vitamin pack he decided to grab on the spot. It didn’t hurt to be prepared, after all.
It wasn't like him to be so worried. Gosh, Yashiro and his motherly instincts must’ve really rubbed off on him. Thankfully, he wasn't there to see it; Matsubase wouldn't be able to live it down.
Around 40 minutes after finishing shopping, Matsubase stood in front of his gas stove. Now dressed in loose, casual clothes, holding a spoon in his hand. If the recipe hasn’t lied to him, it should be ready to eat now. He followed every step with caution, careful not to let his usual impulses ruin anything. No adding anything from himself, no cutting or stretching the time, nothing. If it were Yashiro, he'd probably cook with more heart, more personality. Yashiro always knew when to add something that spiced up the taste just right. He knew when to cook a moment longer so that the texture was just right. Matsubase never got the hang of it, and he wasn't about to ruin the soup he's been working for the past...twenty minutes. Well, it wasn't his fault that the miso soup was not a demanding dish.
He brought the spoon to his lips to give it a taste test, and…it- it was bad. It was pretty bad, compared to all the miso soups he’d eaten in his lifetime. Sure, he wasn't a specialist, but he could tell when it was wrong. Way too salty, the consistency was off, and something just overall didn’t taste right. Matsubase sighed. At least Sachi wasn’t home yet, else she certainly would’ve made fun of him. He wouldn't even blame her - how do you ruin something that was supposed to be so easy? At this point, Matsubase might just start suspecting it's a curse. The divine decided he out off all people was strictly prohibited from making edible dishes.
Though blaming otherworldly intervention never ended well for him or the people around him, so maybe cooking was just not meant for him. He has a whole repertoire of other skills, why would he care too much about food?... Still, he couldn't help but feel...strange. Was it sadness? No, it wouldn't make sense to be sulking over something so trivial. He wasn't angry at himself, either. He tried his best after all.
Ugh, he wanted Yashiro to get better, not get food poisoning! Thankfully, he chose something that didn’t waste much of his time. Looks like he’ll have to order takeout after all. Matsubase grabbed his phone and ordered the soup from a restaurant online. He’ll just pick it up on his way to Yashiro’s place. Food is just food. It didn't matter if it was made by him or someone else. Yashiro just needed to eat something warm. By this point, he must be in bed already, trying to drift off. He won't care. He didn't even expect Matsubase to try something as ridiculous as this, so at least he won't be let down.
It’s not like he’s that disappointed; it’s nothing new. Matsubase has always been, is, and probably will be a bad cook. But he hoped he could repay Yashiro’s care by giving him something he made. Takeout feels lazy.
Matsubase grabbed the medicine he bought earlier, put his jacket on, and left.
He reached Yashiro’s place pretty quickly. It took him more time to find out Yashiro's address without texting him than actually getting there. The soup had already been made when he arrived at the restaurant to pick it up, so at least he didn’t need to wait. He raised his hand to knock on the door, but hesitated. What if Yashiro was asleep? He wouldn’t want to wake him up. He took out his phone to send him a quick message just to check, only to find Yashiro actually texted him back when he was focused on attempting to cook.
‘I left the key under the vase if you wanted to come in.’
Matsubase looked around and located the vase pretty quickly. A decorative one with flowers in it, standing near Yashiro’s doorstep. Cute. He wondered if Yashiro's place was thoroughly decorated. He seemed like the kind of person to pay attention to making his home feel cozy. He picked it up and took the key.
The detective gently opened the door, careful not to make any louder sounds so as to not wake the potentially sleeping Yashiro. He took a look around the apartment. It wasn’t too big; it was a pretty cozy place, just like he suspected. A lot of flowers and pictures of people Matsubase figured were his family were framed on the walls. Since it was still early in the day - a bit past the morning - none of the lights were turned on - the natural lighting from the windows was sufficient. Matsubase wondered how Yashiro’s home looked during the evenings. He hoped the lights were warm and dim - he didn’t like the bright ones. He didn't like to admit it too often, but he appreciated when the environment didn't hurt his eyes, especially when they were more sensitive at the end of the day. Ah, why would it matter anyway? It’s not like Matsubase spends time there.
He set everything on the kitchen counter, took off his jacket, and slowly made his way to the room he supposed was Yashiro’s bedroom. As he walked in, he was greeted with a sight of his sleeping assistant. Sadly, he didn’t look peaceful at all. He was visibly sweating, his hair stuck to his forehead. He was half covered by the sheets, indicating that he turned around often. His cheeks were red, much more than before, and he had a grimace on his face. A perfect example of a sick person. Matsubase felt pity for him. Yashiro looked much worse than he did before, probably because in the quiet privacy of his apartment, he allowed himself to let go of the facade.
Matsubase walked closer and gently placed his palm on Yashiro’s forehead. As expected, Yashiro was burning up. He sighed, taking the hand away. He was about to walk away, deciding to bring the medicine, when the hem of his sleeve was grabbed weakly. He turned around and looked at his assistant, who stared back at him sleepily through half-closed eyes. Yashiro didn’t say anything. Matsubase figured that his throat must also hurt now.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up.” He said in a hushed tone.
“…It’s fine.” Yashiro rasped out. He was about to say something else, but was shushed by Matsubase bringing a finger to his lips.
“You just rest. I’ve brought meds and something warm to eat.” He smiled. Yashiro gave him a small smile back. “You probably have a high fever, based on how hot your forehead is. I’ll get you something to break it.”
Yashiro slightly nodded and let go of his sleeve, closing his eyes again. Matsubase used the occasion to go to the kitchen and get everything ready. He heated up the miso soup briefly, as it was still a bit warm, then poured Yashiro a glass of water to drink along with the medicine. When the soup was ready - he made sure not to let it overheat - he poured a portion into a bowl and brought all of the things back to Yashiro’s bedroom, then set them on his nightstand.
Yashiro opened his eyes lazily to look at him as Matsubase sat on the edge of the bed and handed him a pill and a glass of water.
“Here,” He said as Yashiro slowly got up to a half-sitting position. “For the fever.”
Yashiro murmured a quiet ‘thanks’ and swallowed the pill with a grimace. Matsubase took notice of how glassy his eyes looked. It was really strange, seeing Yashiro so messy and disorganized. At the same time, he couldn’t help but think it was kind of cute. Maybe it wasn’t that bad to switch responsibilities once in a while. A bit tiring, sure, but Yashiro shouldn't have to shoulder everything by himself.
Since Yashiro was already sitting up, Matsubase handed him the bowl. Yashiro eyed it with a slight surprise. He probably didn't hear, or just didn't register, Matsubase bringing it up before.
“Careful,” He said as he gently placed it in Yashiro’s trembling hands. “It’s still hot.”
Yashiro nodded and blew on the spoon before putting it in his mouth. Honestly, it’s not like Matsubase was really against the idea of feeding him himself - only so he wouldn’t spill anything, of course - but Yashiro would probably die out of embarrassment. The intimacy would be too much to handle, even in his hazed state. At least if he was able to eat by himself, it reassured Matsubase that his illness was not something that dangerous. Just the flu. With Matsubase's oh-so-great care, he'll be back on his feet by next week. Though he'll still take care of him, even if he stays sick longer than that.
“Oh, it’s- it’s great!” Yashiro smiled, sounding firmer than he had the whole day. Obviously surprised, too. “Did you make this?” Ah, there was the reason.
Ugh…so that’s how Yashiro would react if he had made something good? Matsubase felt a pang of guilt - now he had to shatter the poor, sick man’s hopes. It’s not like he feels that insecure about his cooking skills; he managed to survive without them his whole life after all, but now he really feels guilty about ruining that soup. Maybe if he just paid a little more attention…
“No, it’s just takeout.” He laughed it off. Yashiro’s subtle, genuine smile disappeared, replaced by an apologetic one. Or a bit disappointed, but Matsubase didn't want to guess.
“…Alright.”
Matsubase placed his hand on Yashiro’s forehead again, just to confirm how bad it was. Since he just took the pill, it probably didn’t start working yet, and Yashiro must’ve been feeling terrible. His assistant looked surprised at his sudden movement.
“I’ll get you a cold towel; maybe you’ll feel better.”
This time, Yashiro didn’t hold onto him and just stayed focused on the soup. Matsubase figured it was because he was feeling more awake now, even though he still had a high fever. He quickly got to the bathroom, which, surprisingly, he didn’t have any problem finding, as if he’d been in Yashiro’s apartment many times. He grabbed the nearest clean towel and folded it, then placed it under cool water from the sink. He didn't really know if that was what he was supposed to be doing - he never had to care for a sick person like this. Other than himself, obviously. And when he was sick, he usually just stuffed himself with meds and waited it out. But a cold towel, logically, should help. He squeezed most of the water out, which accidentally ran down his sleeves.
"Shit," He cursed under his nose. Everything today was going just great - first the soup, now the water. This whole thing isn't really his forte.
When he brought it back to Yashiro, the man had already shrunk back under the covers. Matsubase let out a small chuckle. This time, it was Yashiro who was acting more childish than a grown man should. He doesn't get to see that too often, so he made sure to burn the image into his mind. Not that he enjoyed Yashiro being sick, of course not, but it was a bit funny. Yashiro will get better soon anyway, so Matsubase can allow himself to laugh just a bit.
“Here,” He said, gently brushing Yashiro’s hair out of his forehead and slowly placing the material. Yashiro let out a sigh of relief, which brought a genuine smile to Matsubase's face.
“Thank you,” Yashiro muttered, his eyes closing. “For everything.”
Matsubase huffed a laugh and tenderly brushed back the stray strands of hair that stayed around the towel on Yashiro’s forehead. His assistant was so cute like this, so pliant and even more eager to be honest than usual. He could easily tease him about this or at least annoy him - Yashiro wouldn’t even retaliate, probably. But he decided not to. This once, he’ll let him off the hook. He's probably had a hard day, even harder than Matsubase, who spent it trying to get accustomed to his new role. A role which, strangely, he didn't hate that much.
“Don’t mention it. You did the same for me.” He shook his head, trying not to recall the memory of waking up to his head perched on Yashiro’s shoulder and feeling his arm around his waist, holding his tired form up. “Anything else you need?”
“Mm, no,” Yashiro mumbled and then grabbed the hem of Matsubase’s sleeve again. “Just you.” Huh?
What on Earth was he saying? Seriously, who just blurts out something like that?! Even if Yashiro had something else on mind, it was hard to ignore the obvious sound of the request. Matsubase tried to ignore the burning of his cheeks and instead forced himself to redirect his thoughts to the feeling that stayed in the back of his mind the whole day. A very, very obvious craving.
“I- I need to go…” He tried to pull his hand away, but Yashiro held on surprisingly firm…for an ill person.
“Please…” Yashiro didn’t sound like he even knew where he was, but for some reason, he seemed to have a very clear goal.
“I’ll have you know I didn’t smoke a single cig after the morning one.” Matsubase sighed. “And it’s well past the evening.”
“Please, just…for a moment…”
“I’m serious!” Matsubase groaned. Now that he had done everything he had to, his body decided to remind him of its needs. Or rather, just straight up demanded nicotine.
“You’re more than that…” Yashiro’s voice trailed off as if just now he had to forcibly pull himself out of Morpheus’ arms. “You can fight your addiction for me…”
Matsubase didn’t even comment on the sheer audacity of the request, giving Yashiro the benefit of being sick. “Don’t give me a motivational talk.” He rolled his eyes.
Just as he thought about seriously getting up and leaving, not wanting to occupy Yashiro’s thoughts so that he would go to sleep, the assistant in question decided to use his remaining strength and latch himself onto Matsubase’s waist. So now he was sitting up, his body almost folded, and wrapping his arms around the detective. His boss, mind you!
“Wait- don’t get up-!” Matsubase tried to protest, even though he knew it was already too late. All he could do was sigh. “You’re impossible.”
“Mm.” Yashiro’s response (or rather the mumble of acceptance) came muffled since his head stayed buried in Matsubase’s side. The detective tried to ignore the strange warmth that filled him at the thought of the obviously intimate situation. It's not like it meant anything. Yashiro was just sick and had a fever. He wouldn't have done that if he was thinking clearly. Probably.
Matsubase rolled his eyes again before giving up. If that’s what Yashiro said he needed, then who was he to argue? And it’s not like they didn’t share a quite intimate moment the last time one of them was sick. It’s a great opportunity to settle an old debt.
He grabbed Yashiro’s arms and firmly - but still carefully to not be too sudden and harsh - brought them back on the bed. Then he pushed Yashiro back so that he was lying down, as he should have been from the start. Yashiro let out a sound that Matsubase took as a sign of immense disappointment. He chuckled. Yeah, maybe this version of Yashiro wasn't that bad, even if he wished he'd get well soon. He took one final look at the tired figure - a teary-eyed, red-faced mess and lay down next to him, his back turned. Yashiro didn't seem to mind since soon enough, he felt Yashiro's head nuzzling into the back of his neck. He could feel the wet towel pressing into him, but he decided to let it slide. It didn’t take long before Yashiro’s arm wrapped around him again, though this time, Matsubase didn’t have many complaints.
“I swear, if I get sick too because of this…” His voice trailed off as an obvious warning. Yashiro didn’t seem to take it to heart.
“Then I’ll take care of you.” He whispered into Matsubase’s hair. The latter groaned, though there was no real annoyance behind it.
What a sap.