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Hitoshi lets out a pitiful groan when he wakes up to a sore throat, a throbbing head and a stuffed nose.
He's cold all over, even though he's still wrapped up in his blanket in bed and he wants do die, at least a little bit.
It certainly would feel better than whatever the hell is currently going on, he's certain of that.
Hitoshi has felt off for a few days now, but he chalked it up to overworking himself and not resting enough, but clearly his body was going for something else.
Mainly a stupid, fucking cold and Hitoshi would really rather die than deal with this because colds tend to take it out of him and the last one he had knocked him out of commission for almost two weeks.
It took a month before he didn't feel like dying during training anymore or felt exhausted down to his bones after a patrol.
He really could have done without one again but it's clearly happening, he's clearly already in the very middle of it and now there's nothing else but to deal with it. Ride it out, more like but same difference.
Hitoshi drifts off again without even managing to get out of bed and get some medicine for himself and it's only when his phone won't stop ringing that he joins the world of the living again.
No matter that it's against his will.
He fumbles the phone twice, blearily blinking at the screen and being momentarily blinded before he's able to read the contact and then he drops the phone for good measure when it starts to ring again in that very moment.
Still, he somehow manages to accept the call and he's met with a frantic "Hitoshi? Kiddo, are you alive, are you dying, where the hell are you?"
Yamada sounds worried out of his mind and deep underneath the pain and the stuffy feeling in his head Hitoshi remembers that he was supposed to meet his parents for lunch today.
He must have slept clean through his various alarms because he's already half an hour late.
"I'm sick," he croaks out and then promptly coughs up half a lung, which only makes the pain in his throat worse and he drops back into bed with a groan. "Sorry I missed it and didn't call," he mumbles, pressing the phone to his ear again and he's not at all surprised when Aizawa clearly took over the call.
"How bad is it? Like last time? Or worse?" he wants to know and Hitoshi allows himself a moment to take stock of himself.
"About the same," he finally guesses. "Though I don't really feel feverish."
Not yet, probably, but Hitoshi is under no illusion that he's going to get hit with that sooner or later as well.
"Do you need something?" Aizawa asks and Hitoshi can hear some rustling at the other end of the line as if Aizawa is already searching for a pen and paper to write down a list with things Hitoshi could possibly need.
"I'm good," he mumbles because he should still have everything he needs from last time. He knows for certain that he didn't use up any of his medicines, so at least on that regard he's good.
Foodwise though—
"You need anything to eat?" Aizawa asks in just that moment and just the thought of food makes Hitoshi's stomach turn.
"Don't think so," he chokes out and Aizawa hums.
"You're gonna have to eat even when you feel like shit," he says as if Hitoshi doesn't know that, but surely food can wait for a bit longer.
At least until he doesn't feel so squeezy anymore.
"Yeah, yeah," Hitoshi gets out, his eyes already dropping shut again as exhaustion wins him over again.
"Sleep some more, kid, we'll check in again," Aizawa promises and it's the last thing Hitoshi really hears before he drifts off once more.
When he wakes up an undetermined amount of hours later, there are noises coming from his kitchen.
Hitoshi is too exhausted and too sick to really care and his instincts don't even kick in. Still the bustling sounds are practically begging him to check them out and if there is someone in his apartment to kill him, Hitoshi would really rather die standing straight than bundled up in his bed.
It's the small things, really.
So he drags himself out of his warm and comfortable bed, his blanket slung around his shoulders like a cape, and he shuffles towards the door.
He has to take several breaks along the way because the world keeps spinning around him and once because of a new coughing fit, but eventually he makes it to the living-room where he immediately sinks down on the couch.
Hitoshi still hasn't gotten a glimpse of the intruder, but at least he's out of his bed and that has to count for something, surely and anyway, the intruder is nice enough to come out of the kitchen, wielding a spatula.
"Look who has risen," Katsuki drawls out and Hitoshi sinks deeper into the couch, content that he wouldn't mind dying at this intruder's hands.
"Why you here?" Hitoshi asks and then promptly chokes on a cough again.
By the time his eyes stopped watering and his throat no longer feels as if it's going to rip apart, Katsuki must have vanished and come back because he's shoving a cup of steaming hot tea in his hands.
"With honey and lemon, take careful sips, it's still hot."
It's certainly burning Hitoshi where he clutches it, but it's warm and it looks good and even though he can't smell it with how stuffed his everything is, he just knows it smells amazing.
The first sip tastes like nothing though and Hitoshi pulls a face.
"Did you burn yourself?" Katsuki asks with one raised eyebrow and Hitoshi mournfully shakes his head.
"Can't taste it."
"Yeah, you sound like you wouldn't," Katsuki almost carelessly says and then puts his hand to Hitoshi's forehead. "But you're not burning up."
"Yet," Hitoshi pouts, because it's only a matter of time.
He's prone to fevers so he's under no illusions that it's going to happen.
"You didn't answer," Hitoshi says after a few more careful sips and Katsuki sighs.
"Your dad called me," he admits and clicks his tongue. "Asked me if I could make you a soup. Just how incompetent are your parents that they can't even make a soup?"
"Papa's pretty good at it," Hitoshi gives back, briefly closing his eyes but when he blinks them open again, the cup is on the table and almost cold which means he must have fallen asleep like mid-sentence.
Wonderful.
"You back with me yet?" Katsuki asks as he comes back into the living-room, this time carefully carrying a bowl of soup.
Hitoshi laments the fact that he can't smell once more but he clutches the bowl like he clutched the mug before and he tells himself that the warmth will have to be enough.
"Eat some and don't close your eyes for longer than five seconds. I'm not going to mop this up."
"Rude," Hitoshi mutters, but does as he's told.
He's pretty certain that Katsuki's soup tastes amazing because all of his food does but he still can't taste anything.
It's somewhat helping his throat though, so Hitoshi forces himself to eat past the squeezy feeling in his stomach but after six spoonfuls he has to admit defeat.
"Done already?" Katsuki asks and Hitoshi nods. "Doesn't matter, it'll heat up pretty well. I made you an entire pot."
"Why you here?" Hitoshi asks and remembers that he did ask that before and Katsuki's incredulous stare confirms that.
"Papa makes good soup but yours is better," Hitoshi finally picks up the thread of conversation from before and Katsuki shakes his head.
"You're so slow today," Katsuki huffs out and Hitoshi pouts at him.
"I'm sick. Cut me some slack."
"You're an idiot is what you are," Katsuki shoots back and Hitoshi pouts harder.
"Careful, I'm fully capable of kicking your ass," he says, even though that's a big fat lie, because he isn't even capable of staying awake for one short conversation and Katsuki damn well knows it, too, because he laughs right in Hitoshi's face.
"You're not even able to make it to five minutes with falling asleep. Like hell you're capable of kicking my ass."
Hitoshi digests that for a few moments because even if it's true it's kind of rude of Katsuki to just say it like that.
"I'm fully capable of making you kick your own ass," he then says and now that gets Katsuki to laugh outright.
"Oh yeah? You think you can find your quirk under all that mucus stuck in there?" he asks and lightly flicks Hitoshi's forehead, who is only able to glare at him for a couple of seconds before his eyes drift shut again.
"I can try," he still mumbles, stubborn as ever and then he must imagine Katsuki carding his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair.
Maybe the fever set in earlier than expected, Hitoshi thinks, and then he doesn't think anything for a while.
When he comes back to, he's back in bed with no memory of how he got there, so Katsuki must have dragged him there. And Hitoshi is probably going to get an earful about it, because Katsuki claims that he's way too tall to be carried comfortably.
Hitoshi lets out a sigh and then throws his hand out for a tissue because he has the distinct feeling that there's something leaking out of his nose but instead of his nightstand, his hand hits something soft. And warm.
"Wow, good morning to you, too," Katsuki says, completely dead-pan and when Hitoshi turns around he finds Katsuki leaning against the headboard, a book in his lap and reading glasses perched on his nose and Hitoshi slams his eyes shut in pure self-defence.
He already doesn't know how to handle that look on Katsuki on a good day. He's absolutely sure there's no way for him to handle it right now.
"You're still here," Hitoshi mumbles and Katsuki hums.
"Someone has to keep an eye on you," he finally says and Hitoshi blinks back up at him.
"You could catch it."
"Yeah," Katsuki says with a shrug and then, after a moment of staring at Hitoshi, adds "You saying you wouldn't take care of me then?"
Hitoshi said no such thing so he shakes his head and shuffles closer, almost daringly so, but instead of a sharp reprimand he gets Katsuki's hand in his hair again.
"Nah, I would," Hitoshi then admits. "Though I'm not good at making soup."
"There's time to learn," Katsuki mutters, scratching at Hitoshi's scalp and it's enough to drag him back under.
When Hitoshi wakes up once more, he feels at least a little better. His nose isn't running and his throat doesn't feel as if it's being sliced apart even though it still hurts and he vaguely remembers Katsuki coaxing some medicine into him at one point.
Hitoshi isn't certain if he was truly awake for that or not, but it must have helped.
Right now, Katsuki is nowhere to be seen though and before the disappointment can spread through him, Hitoshi forces himself up.
There's no way to keep up a bedside vigil after all and maybe Katsuki has just gone back to the living-room. Or back home, which Hitoshi doesn't want to think about, but as soon as he shuffles out of the bedroom, he realises that Katsuki didn't leave, because the TV is running, it's volume so low that Hitoshi is certain Katsuki doesn't even hear it, but the light of the room is inviting enough, so Hitoshi makes his way over.
Katsuki is passed out on the couch and a quick glance at the clock reveals that it's a little past midnight.
Hitoshi's sleep schedule truly has gone to shit, even more so than before, and it's really no wonder that Katsuki fell asleep.
It's way past his bedtime.
Hitoshi debates for a quick second if he's strong enough to carry him to bed, but when his knees start to shake before he even reaches the couch he has to admit what a monumentally bad idea that would be, so he only fluffs up a pillow for Katsuki and stuffs it under his head, before he pulls a blanket over him and dims the light a bit.
The TV is really of no concern here, because Katsuki’s hearing aids are on the table and Hitoshi puts on some subtitles for himself before he cosies up on the couch as well.
There's still his abandoned cup of tea on the table and even though it's long gone cold, the lemon certainly helps and so Hitoshi carefully sips it, until he feels himself getting drowsy again.
The way to the bedroom seems too long though, so he simply lets himself fall to the side, right against Katsuki and falls asleep right then and there.
He comes back to to the feeling of fingers in his hair again and he snuggles closer, like an overgrown, affectionate cat and Katsuki chuckles.
"You should have woken me up," he chastises him and lightly pulls on a strand of hair but Hitoshi shakes his head.
"Nah, you need your beauty sleep," he gives back, tilting his head so he can give Katsuki a small smirk.
"Careful, troll doll," Katsuki says but his hand stays soft and careful in his hair. "How are you feeling?"
"Like shit," Hitoshi admits because he does.
His lungs ache, his throat hurts, his nose is stuffed and his head feels as if it's filled with cotton and really, all Hitoshi wants to do is sleep but he's been doing so much of it already.
"You need a doctor?" Katsuki asks, worry clear in his voice and Hitoshi snuggles closer.
"Thank you for staying," he whispers out, slinging his arms around Katsuki's middle and pressing his face to his stomach.
"Not an answer but you're welcome," Katsuki sighs out and goes back to scratching at his scalp. "You know I would always come and care for you, right?" he then asks, sounding surprisingly apprehensive and Hitoshi sighs.
"I know. I'd do the same," he admits and at the back of his head there's a niggling feeling that this is bigger than he realises at this moment, that this is something that's important, that he needs to remember for later but before he can fully grasp that, sleep claims him again.
(It takes him a day but he does remember eventually. And when he does he briefly feels as if the fever finally hit him, that's how hot his face gets and when Katsuki inevitably notices his blush Hitoshi simply shrugs, looks at him and says "I love you, too."
Katsuki goes just as red as Hitoshi and he grumbles and he mutters, but he doesn't refute the statement and when Hitoshi finds himself bundled up on the couch, another bowl of home-made, hot soup in his hands, with Katsuki pressed to his side and petting him like a child in distress, Hitoshi knows that it's very much mutual.)