Work Text:
Outside the window, the spring rain pattered softly, carrying a biting chill. Shanks put down his tablet, rubbing his temples-his productivity while working from home was unexpectedly high today, probably because the house was unusually quiet. He got up and walked softly toward the bedroom.
On the bed, Law was curled under thick blankets, only half of his face, flushed with an abnormal redness, visible. His black hair was damp with sweat, clinging to his temples. He was sleeping deeply, but his brows were slightly furrowed, clearly uncomfortable. Shanks reached out to touch his forehead still feverish. On the bedside table sat a water glass, fever-reducing medicine, and an empty bowl of congee-the one he'd barely managed to feed Law earlier.
He's feverish again. Shanks' heart tightened. That small sense of accomplishment from efficiently finishing work was instantly replaced by worry. His Law, always so composed and in control of everything, only revealed this kind of vulnerability at times like this. This fragility softened Shanks' heart while also stirring a strong protective instinct deep within him.
With a sigh, he headed to the kitchen to reheat the congee. Choosing the best pearl rice, he simmered it over low heat until it turned soft and porridge-like, adding finely chopped tender greens and just a pinch of salt for flavor, finishing with a couple of drops of sesame oil. The kitchen filled with the mild, warm aroma of the congee.
Carrying the bowl back to the bedside, Shanks gently called out, "Law, wake up, you need to eat something."
Law made a vague "mm" sound, struggling to open his eyes. His golden eyes were hazy from the fever, his gaze unfocused, and his reactions slower than usual. Shanks helped him sit up halfway, propping pillows behind him, then scooped up a spoonful of congee, carefully blew on it to cool it down, and brought it to his lips.
Law mechanically opened his mouth and took the spoon. The warm congee slid down his throat, bringing a hint of warmth. He swallowed slowly, his eyes staring blankly ahead as if trying to process the taste and temperature signals from his mouth.
After the second spoonful, Law suddenly stopped. He slowly turned his head, and those fever-glazed, slightly dazed golden eyes fixed directly on Shanks' face.
Shanks thought he was feeling unwell and was about to ask when he noticed a sudden change in Law's eyes-the familiar, nearly scrutinizing professional focus of "Dr. Trafalgar" miraculously pierced through the fog of fever and sharpened on his face. But this focus, because of the fever, seemed... overly intense and piercing, almost unreal in its intensity.
Then, Law spoke. His voice was hoarse from the fever, but his tone was unusually clear and serious, carrying the unmistakable, authoritative tone of a doctor on rounds:
"Patient Shanks."
"?" Shanks, holding the spoon, froze.
Law's gaze slowly lowered to the bowl of congee, as if evaluating some crucial clinical data. He frowned slightly, as if thinking, then very earnestly, word by word, delivered his "medical advice":
"The Na+ concentration control in this congee is decent," he even nodded slightly in approval, "but the K+ supplementation is clearly insufficient."
He raised his eyes, looking at Shanks again (though his gaze was a bit unfocused), and in the tone of someone outlining an important treatment plan, he clearly stated:
"Recommendation: add a bit of spinach to the next bowl."
With that "professional directive" delivered, the serious demeanor seemed to vanish instantly. His body went slack, no longer trying to maintain a sitting position, and he slumped completely against Shanks' chest. His cheek pressed against Shanks' chest, and he let out an uncomfortable whimper, his forehead unconsciously nuzzling against the front of Shanks' shirt, like a kitten seeking comfort after completing an important task. He mumbled something indistinct under his breath, "...cold... dizzy..."
Shanks: "…………"
He remained frozen, holding the spoon in one hand while the other arm encircled the large, feverish "feline patient" who had snuggled into him and was now nuzzling against him. His mind felt like it was being torn in two by screaming voices:
Rational voice: Did he just... analyze the electrolyte balance of my congee? And call me ‘patient'? Is he hallucinating from the fever? Should I call a doctor?
Emotional voice: Aaaaaah! He's so adorable!!! One second he's all serious and giving medical advice, and the next he's melting into me! What kind of ultimate contrast is this?! Who can resist this?!
After a few seconds of mental short-circuiting, the emotional voice won overwhelmingly.
"Pfft... hahaha..." A suppressed laugh finally escaped Shanks' throat. He quickly set the bowl aside, afraid his shaking hands might drop it, and tightened his arm around the warm, soft bundle radiating unintended charm in his embrace. His shoulders trembled with barely contained laughter. He looked down at Law's flushed, feverish cheek, unconsciously rubbing against his chest, and felt Law's slightly labored, warm breath against his skin. His heart melted into a puddle, every corner filled with sweet affection and irrepressible amusement.
His little doctor, running a 39-degree fever, could still seamlessly switch modes while half-delirious-first analyzing the electrolytes of his congee in work mode and prescribing advice, then instantly switching back to patient mode, seeking warmth and comfort.
This obsessive professionalism and subconscious dependency were presenting in such a wonderfully harmonious way. It was... absolutely epic levels of adorable!
Shanks laughed quietly for a while before finally managing to suppress the mirth bubbling in his chest. He shook his head, both helpless and utterly charmed, and cradled Law more securely in his arms, wrapping the blankets snugly around him like a warm cocoon. With a gentle, loving hand, he stroked Law's back, soothing him like a proud, aloof cat that had finally deigned to show affection after a bout of pouting.
"Understood, Dr. Law," he whispered into Law's reddened ear, his voice thick with laughter and tenderness. "Your medical advice has been received. The next bowl will definitely include spinach, K+ levels guaranteed. Now, my little patient, be good and sleep. Restoring your strength is the top priority, hm?"
Law seemed to hear him, or maybe he was just instinctively drawn to the warm embrace and comforting strokes. He stopped fidgeting, burying his face deeper into the crook of Shanks' neck. His hot breath fanned over Shanks' skin, and he let out a couple of faint, contented sighs before falling deeply asleep, his fingers unconsciously clutching a small fold of Shanks' shirt.
Shanks held him like that for a long while, quietly feeling Law's gradually steadying breaths and still-elevated temperature. His heart swelled with an indescribable tenderness and a peculiar sense of accomplishment. Look, when he's this unwell, the person he trusts and depends on the most is me. The satisfaction this brought him even surpassed any victory he'd ever won in the business world.
Only when his arm began to grow numb did he carefully lay the sleeping Law back down, tucking the blankets around him and gently smoothing back the sweat-dampened hair from his forehead. In his sleep, Law seemed to sense the departure of the warm presence and frowned uneasily, letting out a soft, dissatisfied grumble as his hand instinctively searched the space beside him. Shanks immediately took his hand and whispered reassuringly, "I'm here, sleep." Only then did Law relax, his fingers loosening slightly but still not letting go.
Shanks remained in that somewhat awkward position, sitting by the bed, letting Law hold his hand while he used his other hand to handle some non-urgent work on his tablet. Yet his gaze kept drifting uncontrollably to the sleeping face on the bed, replaying the unbearably cute scene from earlier, a smile lingering on his lips. He even started seriously considering whether he should add "how to induce Dr. Law to deliver adorable medical advice while sick" to his "Precious Family Memory Collection Plan."
As evening approached, the rain began to let up. The sound of a key turning in the lock echoed from the front door, and Shamrock walked in, bringing a draft of cool outside air with him. He took off his slightly heavy coat, changed his shoes, and saw Shanks emerging from the room, still holding an empty bowl.
"I'm back. How's Law?" Shamrock's voice remained steady, but concern flickered in his eyes.
"Shh, just fell asleep again, his fever's gone down a bit," Shanks replied, his face wearing a strange mix of exhaustion and barely contained excitement. He walked over quietly, his eyes sparkling brightly, as if he had discovered a priceless treasure and couldn't wait to share it. "Listen, something absolutely hilarious happened earlier!"
Shamrock raised an eyebrow slightly, seeing Shanks in this rare state of being unable to keep a secret. He cooperated by lowering his voice. "What? Did Law do something silly while feverish?"
"More than silly!" Shanks immediately pulled him over to the sofa, sat down close to him, and began recounting the incredible midday incident in a hushed, animated tone. He started with how Law's eyes had suddenly changed, imitating Law's serious yet slightly unfocused "rounds voice," and repeated the entire "prescription" about sodium, potassium, and spinach, even describing his own stunned reaction vividly.
"...And then he just closed his eyes and fell back asleep!" Shanks finished, unable to suppress another low chuckle, his shoulders shaking. "Can you believe it? Delirious with fever, and he still remembered to analyze the electrolytes in my congee! And he called me ‘patient'! I almost wondered if he was consulting in his dreams!"
Listening, a look of surprise first appeared on Shamrock's usually impassive face, followed by an upward curve of his lips that eventually turned into a low, clear laugh. "Pfft... That's truly..." He shook his head, his eyes full of amusement. "An advanced case of occupational disease, beyond cure. Even with a fever, he's still worrying about electrolyte balance."
"Right?!" Shanks, finding a kindred spirit, grew even more animated. "And the best part is, what he said actually made sense! I thought about it later, and the potassium content in a light vegetable congee really isn't high. Adding spinach is a reasonable suggestion. It's just the way and timing of the suggestion..." He started laughing again.
"Did you add it?" Shamrock asked.
"Of course! How could I dare disobey ‘Dr. Law's' medical advice?" Shanks said with a completely straight face. "For the evening bowl, I specifically added blanched, finely chopped spinach. Executed flawlessly." His tone carried a hint of smug pride, as if he had accomplished a major task.
"Did he notice? Any new ‘prescriptions'?" Shamrock, unusually curious, asked for more gossip.
Shanks shrugged, his smile deepening. "He was half-asleep when he had the evening bowl. His taste buds probably weren't fully back, so he didn't comment. But he drank more than at noon, so I'd say the ‘treatment effect' was good."
The two of them laughed quietly for a while in the living room, the previously quiet apartment now filled with a light, relaxed atmosphere thanks to this little anecdote. The bedroom remained silent.
"We should tell him when he's better," Shamrock said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "See how he reacts."
"I bet he'll deny it outright, or say it doesn't count because he was feverish and confused," Shanks imagined the flustered look Law might have, his smile growing even more tender. "But it's fine, we have a ‘witness.'" He winked at Shamrock.
As they were quietly enjoying the moment, a faint rustling sound came from the bedroom, like someone turning over. They immediately fell silent. Shanks got up and walked over, gently pushing open the slightly ajar door.
Law was already awake, slowly pushing himself up to sit. He looked much more alert than during the day, though his face was still pale and his eyes held the tiredness that comes after an illness.
"Did we wake you?" Shanks quickly walked over, helping him adjust the pillows. "How are you feeling?"
Law shook his head, his voice still raspy. "Much better. Just a bit thirsty."
Shanks immediately poured him a glass of warm water. Law took small sips, his gaze sweeping vaguely around the room as if still shaking off the last vestiges of sleep. He put the glass down, frowned slightly as if trying hard to remember something, and then asked softly, with uncertainty in his voice, "Shanks... did I... say something... really strange at noon?"
In the living room, Shamrock silently moved closer to the doorway, ready to be a "spectator."
Shanks looked at Law's soft, completely unguarded eyes, his heart melting. He fought back a laugh, trying to keep his expression appropriately serious. "Strange? Not at all. You just... gave me some very professional feedback on my cooking."
Law: "...Professional feedback?" The confusion in his golden eyes deepened. That memory was clearly fragmented under the haze of fever.
"Mhm." Shanks nodded, sitting down on the edge of the bed and leaning closer. In a gentle but clear voice, he said, "You evaluated my congee. Said the sodium ion control was good, but the potassium was insufficient, and recommended adding spinach. Very professional, Dr. Law."
Law: "…………"
Time seemed to stand still for a few seconds. Then, a wave of crimson spread at an astonishing speed from Law's neck, instantly covering his cheeks and ears, even tinting the corners of his eyes with a faint blush. He abruptly yanked the blanket up over his head, completely burying himself, leaving only a stubborn tuft of black hair sticking out.
A muffled, embarrassed, and disbelieving voice emerged from under the blanket:
"...I... I was feverish and confused! That doesn't count! You... don't mention it again!"
Shanks finally couldn't hold back, bursting into loud laughter that shook his chest. Through the blanket, he gently hugged the "little doctor" who seemed intent on burying himself in the ground.
"Alright, alright, I won't mention it," he humored him, the adoration in his voice overflowing. "But you did drink more of the congee with spinach. So, sometimes ‘feverish medical advice' is a little useful, right, Dr. Law?"
No sound came from under the blanket. Only the blanket itself gave a tiny wiggle, a wordless protest.
In the doorway, Shamrock stood with his arms crossed, watching the scene, a faint smile playing on his lips as he shook his head. It seemed a certain meticulous medical student would never manage to maintain that cool, aloof facade in front of his own partner.
The night after the rain was clear and fresh. In the apartment, under the warm yellow lamplight, the lingering scent of congee seemed to still hang in the air, mingling with soft laughter and someone's embarrassed silence, weaving together an ordinary yet extraordinarily cozy family tableau. And the medical student who had made a fool of himself due to a fever was now firmly encircled in this warm little world, surrounded by his gleeful partner and his amused older brother (Shamrock), all in a way filled with affection.
A few days later, Law had fully recovered and was preparing to return to school. At breakfast, Shamrock brought it up as if by chance: "By the way, Law, your ‘nutritional analysis' from the other day when you had a fever was quite impressive."
Law's hand, holding a fork, paused. The tips of his ears began to visibly redden.
Shanks, sitting across from him, chimed in with a smile: "Especially your keen insight regarding potassium ions. Worthy of praise."
Law: "...Let's eat."
Shamrock: "Spinach is a good choice."
Law: "...No talking during meals."
Shanks: "Dr. Law, please increase your K+ intake."
Law: "..."
That morning, the spinach on Law's plate was eaten silently and swiftly. The other two at the table exchanged a knowing look, their eyes full of shared amusement.
Much later, when Law was already an excellent resident physician, he dragged his exhausted body home after a long night shift. As usual, Shanks had prepared hot soup for him.
Law took a sip, then suddenly looked up at Shanks. His eyes were clear, his tone calm, but carrying a hint of soft, barely perceptible amusement:
"Shanks."
"Hm?"
"The soup is delicious. The Na+ and K+ balance is, as always, perfect."
Shanks was momentarily stunned, then a brilliant, fatigue-dispelling smile spread across his face.
He leaned over and kissed Law's forehead.
"Thank you for the compliment, Dr. Law. It's my honor."