Archive of Our Own

It started with a sniffle. One that Alyosha chalked up to being in the snow for a whole day.

So if you asked him how he ended up with a head splitting migraine and a throat drier than Sumeru's desert, he wouldn't have an answer.

Alyosha never liked vulnerability, especially in himself. To show that would make him an easy target, an easy prey.

But Alyosha could only pretend for so long. As much as he hates to admit it, he had limits too. He's just been reminded the hard way – the lunch he had earlier isn't even in his stomach anymore, it's down the drain in his bathroom.

Usually, he lets the sickness pass. It's not like he could do anything about it anyway, he wouldn't have enough money for medicine. Plus, the Mora could be used for more important things, ailments are temporary. Usually.

Tugarin nudging his side with his ears flattened only made Alyosha feel worse. He must be hungry or bored, but Alyosha can't even gather the energy to get out of bed. Every time he opens his eyes, it feels like an electric current travels straight to his brain.

He had no choice when he fell into a harsh coughing fit, though.

Alyosha hunched over his kitchen sink, fighting his body that was trying to remove all air from his lungs. Every breath he took came out as a cough harder than the last instead of an exhale. He grabbed a cup of water and drank it – which was a bad idea, because his body rejected it and threw it back out.

Tugarin whined beside him, rubbing his head against Alyosha's legs in an attempt to offer comfort. Alyosha tried to pet Tugarin the best he could, but was constantly interrupted by his illness.

He was exhausted, extremely exhausted. Alyosha looked at the wall clock.

'9:17'

Alyosha squinted, but quickly gave up when he can't even see the numbers. He tried walking, and almost tripped on air due to his lightheadedness.

"Tugarin–" Alyosha started, but forgot the words he was about to say as he lost consciousness.

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"And then he asked – no, demanded for the VIP seat, when he can't even show up on time!" Vodyanitsa fussed backstage, crossing her arms and huffing.

"What an unreasonable request…" Mitya commented.

"I know, right?! He thinks his social status would scare me, but I personally don't care one bit! At least show some form of respect!"

Mitya nodded with a grim smile.

Vodyanitsa takes a deep breath to calm herself, "… anyway, thanks for listening. I have to get going now. I have to rehearse with Odette in a few minutes."

"Oh, right, right. It was nice chatting with you. Wait, by the way, where's Alyosha? I haven't seen him in a while."

"Uh…" She shrugs, "I haven't seen him either. He hasn't come to the theater lately."

"Really?" He asks with surprise, "That's… new."

"Yeah, well, it's Alyosha. I'm sure he's busy with whatever case he's working on."

Mitya scratches his scalp, "True… guess I'll check on him then."

"'Check' on him, or 'annoy' him?" Vodyanitsa teases with a raised eyebrow.

"I– check on him, Vodyanitsa. I don't exist just to be a menace!"

Vodyanitsa laughs, "I know, I'm joking. Bye, Mitya!"

Mitya waves his hand, followed by his scarf from behind him. After looking both ways in case Valeriy suddenly spawned into existence, he exits the theater and goes straight to the train station.

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Sretomorozsk seemed like a pretty quiet town, despite the amount of scandals that Alyosha has told him.

Alyosha's house, however, wasn't silent at all.

The sounds of a dog howling could be heard before Mitya even reached the stairs. The obvious answer was Tugarin, but Mitya has never, and he means ever, heard him howl that loud before.

Mitya approached the door and hesitantly knocked. "Uh, hello? Alyosha?"

The only response he received was frenzied tapping on the floor and even more howling as Tugarin paced back and forth behind the door. Confused and worried, Mitya used the extra keys Alyosha gave him.

The moment Mitya opened the door, Tugarin barked out a series of grumbles.

"Hey, hey, what's going on?" He questions as his head follows the movements of the restless dog.

Tugarin darts towards the kitchen, howling incessantly in that direction. That's when he caught a glimpse of a foot on the floor behind the counter.

Mitya has never ran faster in his life.

"Alyosha!" Mitya darts to his side, kneeling and putting his left arm behind Alyosha's back, slightly lifting him up.

The first thing he did was check Alyosha's pulse. Mitya let out a sigh of relief when he felt it, even if it was a bit faster than usual.

The hunter's eyebrows were slightly knitted, with his mouth parted open for his heavy breathing. Mitya gently brushed away Alyosha's bangs and placed a hand on his forehead.

He was burning up.

Was Alyosha sick? Poisoned? Or both?

Either way, he's definitely not staying on the ground. Mitya secures his arms behind Alyosha's shoulders and knees, carrying him to his room. His scarf opens the door for Mitya, and he settles Alyosha on the bed.

Mitya sits on the edge of the mattress and cards his hand through Alyosha's damp, messy hair, hoping it would somehow offer comfort. Tugarin hops on the bed as well, resting his head on Alyosha's stomach.

That said, Mitya realized that he has no idea on what the hell he should do.

He doesn't know the full picture, but after determining that there was no sign of foul play, he supposes he could treat Alyosha like he was having a really, really bad fever.

Mitya got up and took a small towel from the drawer, then went to dampen it up with water. He puts the cloth on Alyosha's forehead to help lower his temperature.

Seeing Alyosha like this was almost unsettling. 'Strong', 'idealistic', 'grounded', 'determined', was everyone's picture of him. None of those were present now – he was laying so unguarded, so exposed. His soft features were in plain sight, only for Mitya to see.

He cupped Alyosha's cheek, tracing the constellations of freckles with his thumb and noticing how pale Alyosha's skin was compared to his.

A protective feeling bubbled from Mitya's heart. Alyosha was always the one defending and taking care of others, someone has to take care of him too.

After changing the damp towel with a new one, Mitya silently left the room.

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… where is he?

What time was it?

Alyosha slowly opened his eyes. His head was absolutely killing him.

He noticed Tugarin sleeping by his side, which made him feel a little bit better. A lukewarm cloth sat on his forehead, so he placed it next to him on the drawer. Alyosha tried to sit up in the best way he could, only to be interrupted by a scarf opening the door, followed by the owner with a handful of paper bags.

"Oh, you're awake!" Mitya remarks with relief. He sets the bags on the drawer and takes out a few bottles, "You didn't have any medicine that isn't ointment, so I bought you some. I'll get you water, hold on–"

Mitya turns to leave, then stops. Alyosha blinks, confused. He then follows the other's gaze and looks down to see that his fingers grabbed the sleeve of Mitya's coat.

"… sorry." Alyosha mutters with a raspy voice as he lets go.

"No, no, it's alright," Mitya says as he sits down beside Alyosha on the bed. "Are you okay? What happened?" His voice noticeably softens. It almost makes Alyosha guilty.

"Just a cold." Alyosha sits up at last, assisted by Mitya.

"'Just' a cold? One that made you pass out?" Mitya asks skeptically as he tilts his head, "You could've gotten injured when your head hit the floor. And for you to faint, it must be very serious. Why didn't you tell anyone?"

Alyosha kind of feels like he's being scolded.

Mitya's expression transitions into something gentle. "Don't apologize, I was just… worried. You gave me quite the scare earlier. Thought the Grim Reaper took your soul for a second." He scratches the back of his head and chuckles in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Alyosha hummed and fixed his gaze on the blanket on his lap. He can't really focus on anything right now, it feels like someone's bashing his head with a brick. Not to mention that his throat is making him really uncomfortable and it hurts to talk, but Mitya doesn't need to know that.

"Oh, wait," Mitya starts, "there's some soup for you. The kind old lady gave it to me while I was buying medicine. Forgot her name, though… but she told me that she wishes for your smooth recovery. You probably haven't eaten anything, have you? I'll get it, along with some water. I'll come back, alright?"

Always the chatterbox, Alyosha idly thought. He allows himself a slight smile and nods.

Mitya returns a wider smile and leaves the room.

Alyosha falls back and leans on the headboard. He presses the heels of his palms against his eyelids, as if that would help with the pain.

This entire thing is just… weird. Normally, he hates interacting with people when he's sick, mostly because he does not want anyone to see him in this state. As a hunter, every day is the survival of the fittest. Any form of uncertainty or vulnerability will have you pay with your life.

But with Mitya – looking after him like it's the easiest thing in the world – he feels… safe, comfortable. He could let his hair down for once. Alyosha would wonder why, if he didn't know the answer in his heart already.

The room fills with the aroma of fish and vegetables as Mitya returns with a bowl of soup and a glass of water.

"Here," Mitya returns to his side and offers the water. After watching Alyosha drink the medicine, he holds a spoonful of soup to Alyosha's mouth.

Alyosha stares at the spoon like it just offended him. He then directs that same look towards Mitya. Is he serious right now?

"… I can feed myself, you know." The roughness in his own voice makes Alyosha wonder if Mitya even understood that.

He makes a motion to take the utensil, but Mitya quickly pulls it away, with his scarf wagging a finger behind him.

"Ah-ah, you aren't going to do a single thing here. Not when I'm around."

If there was a word for '?????', Alyosha would say it.

"You're always on your own," Mitya elaborates, "I get the lone wolf aesthetic, but you gotta relax at some point – can't do everything by yourself, y'know. Let someone help you once in a while." Mitya pauses, watching Alyosha's unconvinced expression. "If not for yourself, then at least for my sake. Please?"

Alyosha looks at Mitya's sad frown, which resembles a puppy. He folds on the spot.

With a sigh, he opens his mouth. Mitya proudly smiles and feeds him. Alyosha's face heats up from embarrassment instead of sickness.

"See? It's not that bad." The scientist's smile turns into a smug grin.

You're having way too much fun with this, Mitya, is what Alyosha would say if it didn't physically pain him to do so.

"By the way, I talked with Vodyanitsa earlier. She was ranting about this person who wanted a VIP seat before he even paid for it. At first they assumed that he didn't know it was for VIPs, but no – he still insisted even after he was told." Mitya huffs a short chuckle and continues to feed Alyosha, "That was also a few minutes after the performance started, so he wasn't even on time. Vodyanitsa said – and I quote – 'He's lucky it was a new hire that handled the tickets, he wouldn't be able to even enter if it was Kulish'."

Alyosha let out a soft hum as he listened.

"Thankfully, the staff were equally stubborn, so he eventually sat among the regulars – the actual spot he paid for – but then he stayed after the performance to file a complaint! Vodyanitsa and Odette had to deal with him themselves apparently, and that took them at least five minutes to resolve. It's insane!" Mitya laughed.

The corners of Alyosha's mouth curled up as he chewed a piece of meat, watching Mitya animatedly talk about everything and anything. From Vodyanitsa and Odette's performance, to the progress in his research, to books he found interesting in the shop – Mitya jumped from topic to topic, asking Alyosha simple yes or no questions every now and then to keep him included.

Even after the bowl was long empty, Mitya continued to go about his day. Alyosha isn't complaining in the slightest, but Mitya's voice makes him sleepy. That, along with the fact that his illness took most of his energy, Alyosha didn't notice that his head started to loll.

His head lands on something, and he assumes it's Mitya's shoulder, based on how he pauses for a moment, before continuing to talk but in a softer voice.

Alyosha feels a weight on his crown, as Mitya rests his own head on it. He fights the urge to close his eyes, but alas, all of his attempts were futile. The last thing he heard was something about the future of space travel before he drifted to sleep.

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Mitya stayed for a week or so.

And for the past few days, he found out that Alyosha could get surprisingly clingy. That was apparent as they laid on the bed, with Alyosha tucked closely beside Mitya.

He just came back from roaming all of Snezhnograd to buy them food, since Mitya can't cook for shit. He also bought more medicine in case Alyosha needed them again, just because he could.

Honestly, he could've bought Alyosha a lot more, but Mitya decides to save them for gifts. The fact that he's willing to throw money around in single day should concern Mitya, but if it's for Alyosha, he would consider it a good financial decision.

Mitya runs his hand through Alyosha's hair, feeling how soft it is. His gaze lowers towards Alyosha's face, mentally counting his freckles and each of his eyelashes. How can someone with such soft features point a gun at a person so easily?

He lets out a silent sigh. A week leave was all he requested, and Mitya kind of regrets not asking for longer, because this feels really, really nice. Going out for whatever he needed, then coming back to a recovering Alyosha, who greeted him with a certain tone that Mitya couldn't place his finger on – but it warmed his chest more than a furnace ever will.

The blanket rustles, and Mitya belatedly realizes that Alyosha is looking back at him.

"How long are you going to stare at me?" Alyosha asks, his voice now free from any ailment, "Do I have something on my face?"

"Just your pretty eyelashes," Mitya blurts out. If he had his scarf, it would be suffocating him right now – thank the archons it's on the coat rack where Tugarin is sleeping under.

Alyosha rolls his eyes, "Okay, smooth talker. Some things shouldn't be said."

"Why – 'cause you know it already?"

"That's…" Alyosha tucks his head under Mitya's chin, "… not what I meant."

Mitya laughs with a stupid grin on his face as he pulls Alyosha a little closer. He's blushing, he knows it.

"When are you leaving?" Alyosha changes the subject.

He hums, "Later, I suppose. Not really sure yet."

"Oh. I see."

Mitya can hear the faint disappointment in his voice.

"Don't worry, we'll still see each other in the theater, at least."

"Yeah. I just wanted to thank you for… y'know…" Alyosha pauses, "… putting up with me."

A confused sound comes from Mitya's throat and he pulls away just enough to see Alyosha's face. "I wouldn't call it 'putting up with you', it's more like… helping someone in need. There's really no need to thank me."

Alyosha blinks. "Still… it feels wrong."

Mitya tilts his head slightly, "It's not a give and take situation like you're used to. Honestly, if you told me to do absolutely anything, I would do it – no questions asked."

For some reason, Alyosha stays silent for a solid minute, blankly staring over Mitya's shoulder. Mitya starts to get worried and attempts to ask what he's thinking about–

"Then…" Alyosha abruptly sits up, "can I ask for a favor?"

"Uh–" Mitya sits up as well, "Sure, what do you need…?"

"Can you stay for a little while?"

Now it was Mitya's turn to blink. That's it?

"I mean," Alyosha covers his reddening face with his hand and averts his gaze, "now that I'm feeling better, I could cook you something tomorrow, since we've been eating store-bought food for a week."

"Right–" Mitya couldn't hold back a guilty laugh as he scratches the back of his head. "Of course, you know I couldn't possibly say no to your cooking! I don't have any major projects to attend to, anyway." At least, none that he knows of. Valeriy can bite his head off any day if it meant spending more time with Alyosha.

Alyosha peeks through his fingers, as if he's still processing Mitya's response. His hand then lowers to reveal the soft crinkle of his eyes, the rosy tint on his cheeks, and the most sincerest smile Mitya's ever seen.

Yeah, he's definitely requesting a few more days of leave.