Work Text:
Tsukishima was the worst sick person.
He was stubborn to start with, but add illness on top? Fuck, was he annoying.
You’d noticed he was getting sick yesterday. He’d come home complaining about a headache and a sore throat. You’d quietly slid some medicine his way and he’d taken it with a muttered thanks, but that didn’t stop him from pulling out his laptop and typing away like he wasn’t halfway to collapsing.
Now, it was even worse. He sat beside you on the couch while you read, sniffling and coughing every few minutes, looking like a ghost of himself. His normally honey-gold eyes were dulled and grey, his skin pale and drawn. Every so often, he paused to pinch the bridge of his nose or massage his temples with a low groan.
“Kei,” you warned softly, glancing over the top of your book. “This is getting ridiculous. Go to bed.”
“I’m fine,” he said, a little sharper than usual. “Just a headache.”
“Clearly,” you shot back, smirking.
His eyes flicked up to you, unimpressed. “Don’t start.”
“Oh, I’m already started,” you said sweetly. “You look like you’re about to be carbon dated.”
That earned a small, tired huff of amusement before he went back to typing. Typical.
You knew how to handle his stubbornness. Normally, that sharp tongue and smug attitude were your favourite things about him, because you could match him beat for beat. In fact, your ability to dominate him when it came to word play was the whole reason he fell for you in the first place. He liked a challenge. Someone who could push back, roll their eyes right back at him, and call him out when he was being insufferable. You were quick-witted and just as intelligent, and he adored it more than he’d ever admit out loud.
But tonight, he wasn’t playing. Normally, he’d smirk and volley your teasing right back, drawing it out until one of you flustered the other. Now, that spark in his eyes was gone, replaced by exhaustion. And that’s how you knew he was really sick.
You shut your book and turned to face him fully. “Kei, you’re clearly ill. Stop working before you actually fossilize.”
He didn’t look up. “It’s just a cold. I’ll live.”
“You’re going to make yourself worse,” you pressed.
“I’ll be fine,” he repeated flatly.
You sighed and leaned over, tugging the laptop toward you. His long fingers instantly tightened around it, his expression darkening.
“What’s so important that it can’t wait until you’re feeling better?” you challenged.
“The specimens are being returned next week,” he muttered. “I need to finish the report.”
“The dinosaurs will still be dead at the end of the week,” you shot back. “You, however, might be joining them if you don’t rest.”
He exhaled, slow and irritated. “You think you’re funny.”
“I know I’m funny. You just refuse to laugh because then you have to admit I’m right.”
For a second, you swore he was fighting back a smile. Then he coughed hard and winced.
You moved your hands from the laptop to rest over his. “Kei, please,” you said softly, offering a small smile. “It’s okay to rest.”
One of his eyes squinted shut, like he was trying to brave through the pounding in his skull.
He let out a long, defeated sigh, his shoulders slumping. “Alright. Just a couple of hours?”
“I promise. I’ll wake you in a few,” you said.
He gave a tiny nod before shutting the lid of his laptop. Slowly, he rose from the sofa, curling inward. You followed close behind, ready to catch him if he faltered. From the kitchen, you grabbed a few essentials: water, medicine, a cool pad and trailed him into the bedroom.
He yanked off his glasses, threw back the covers, and sprawled across the bed. His forehead was hot and damp under your hand, tiny beads of sweat clinging to his skin. You offered the medicine and he took it without a word, then turned his face into the pillow. Gently, you pressed the cool pad against his skin, sweeping stray strands of hair aside.
“Thank you,” he breathed.
“Anytime,” you whispered, stroking his hair as you sat beside him.
“…I love you, y’know,” he said suddenly, pressing his lips to the back of your hand.
Your chest ached. “I know, baby. I love you too. Now… get some sleep.”
Within seconds, he was gone, his body finally surrendering to rest. You shook your head with a fond smile, slipping out of the bedroom and closing the door softly behind you.
Back on the couch, your book called to you, but curiosity nagged like a persistent shadow. You gave in, lifting his laptop and opening the report.
Typical Kei. His notes were meticulous, and all that remained was typing them up. Easy enough. You’d read enough of his reports to follow along, and soon your fingers were flying across the keys. Before long, you were absorbed in the world of fossils and natural history, completely lost in the same obsession that kept him working even as his body protested.
By midnight, you were done. Feeling proud, you saved your copy, careful not to touch his “precious” original, and shut the laptop. Crawling into bed beside him, you found him completely asleep, snoring softly, oblivious to your presence. You checked his forehead again. Cooler now. Hopefully, by morning, he’d be over the worst of it.
You rolled over and closed your eyes—
The smell of coffee tempted you out of sleep. Yawning, you sat up, noticing the covers beside you were cold. Swinging your legs out of bed, you headed toward the living room.
Bathed in the golden morning light stood Kei, looking significantly more human, but a lot more pissed off, standing with arms crossed.
“Um… morning,” you chirped.
“Don’t give me that,” he said, voice dark, though his raised eyebrow betrayed his amusement.
You tilted your head. “What did I do?”
“You finished my report.”
You stretched, arms popping with satisfaction. “Oh, that. Come on, it wasn’t that hard. Dinos are dead, they evolved into birds, we think that’s the missing link, blah, blah, blah.”
He groaned, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he wanted to smile. “I can’t believe you,” he muttered, shaking his head.
“Look, I didn’t do it because I felt obligated or anything,” you shrugged. “I just… wanted to help. Seeing you like that yesterday, it sucked. I don’t ever want you working yourself sick again. It’s not worth it.” You fiddled with the hem of your pyjama top. “You’d do the same for me.”
He was silent for a moment, then walked toward you, towering over you. Gently, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against his chest and resting his chin on your head.
“You’re amazing, you know that, right?” He hummed into your hair. “Annoyingly so.”
You smiled against him. “You wouldn’t settle for anything less.”
He huffed out a small laugh, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Yeah, well. You’re way too good for me.”
“Good thing I already know that,” you teased, and he rolled his eyes, but didn’t let go.