Categories > Anime/Manga > Gravitation > Sick
[Title]: Sick
[Pairing]: Eiri/Shuichi
[Rated]: G
[Disclaimer]: Characters belong to Maki Murakami and co. (i.e. not me).
[Warnings]: Um... Finger-abuse? And no, not that kind. v__v
[Author's Note]: This drabble was requested by Vialia over at LJ. Please enjoy. :D
The book shook in his hands as he was overcome with another fit of coughs. Eiri set his reading aside, taking tentative deep breaths, and reached to the nightstand for his water glass. He frowned to see that it was empty.
"Shuichi," he rasped, trying futilely to hail his lover from the living room, but his voice failed him, and he instead slumped back against his pillows with a defeated sigh.
A moment later, a head peeked into the bedroom, and soon a body followed, carrying a tray of soup and crackers. Eiri quirked an eyebrow. That kid seriously had some kind of sixth sense... "Yuki," Shuichi said, smiling as he strutted over proudly and positioned the tray on the novelist's lap. "How are you feeling?"
"Horrible." Eiri moved the tray closer and picked up a spoon, stirring the hot soup slowly and letting the calming steam penetrate his skin. "I never get this sick."
Shuichi shrugged, and crawled onto his own side of the bed, lying on his stomach there. It felt nice to play hooky, he thought, and idly wondered what K would say to him tomorrow. Or what arsenal he might thrust at Shuichi's head. "It happens. I hope you like my soup. Watch it. S'hot."
"I would hope." Eiri brought a spoonful to his lips and blew lightly. His attention flicked over to Shuichi beside him as he drank. He looked just as tired as Eiri was, strangely enough. Shuichi never seemed to be out of energy. Was Eiri that much of a burden? Well, he concluded, it was Shuichi's own damn fault. Eiri had never asked to be cared for.
The blond opened his mouth to say something witty when a slew of bandaged fingers caught his eye. "...What happened to you?"
Shuichi looked up, confused a moment, then nervously clasped his hands and chuckled. "Oh... Eheh... I had a little accident with the stove while making the soup."
"How the hell can you screw up with /soup/?"
"It can happen!" Shuichi pouted, and scrambled to a seated position. He fiddled with the corner of Eiri's pillow. "Sorry. But I made the soup, and it's good, isn't it?"
"You didn't burn or break anything, did you?"
"Only my fingers." He extended his hand to the novelist's face.
Eiri observed the slim digits, sloppily wrapped in bright green Band-Aids. Well, it was endearing enough. Quietly, Eiri set his spoon aside, and clasped Shuichi's hand, bringing the other's fingers to his lips and giving them a gentle kiss. "Thanks, but don't try it again, or I'll end up the one taking care of /you/." He gave Shuichi a look that clearly said how much he wanted to do /that/.
Shuichi, a little surprised, watched as the novelist returned to drinking his soup without another word, sleepy golden eyes staring blankly ahead, and smiled. "You're welcome, Yuki."
~Regina~
[Pairing]: Eiri/Shuichi
[Rated]: G
[Disclaimer]: Characters belong to Maki Murakami and co. (i.e. not me).
[Warnings]: Um... Finger-abuse? And no, not that kind. v__v
[Author's Note]: This drabble was requested by Vialia over at LJ. Please enjoy. :D
The book shook in his hands as he was overcome with another fit of coughs. Eiri set his reading aside, taking tentative deep breaths, and reached to the nightstand for his water glass. He frowned to see that it was empty.
"Shuichi," he rasped, trying futilely to hail his lover from the living room, but his voice failed him, and he instead slumped back against his pillows with a defeated sigh.
A moment later, a head peeked into the bedroom, and soon a body followed, carrying a tray of soup and crackers. Eiri quirked an eyebrow. That kid seriously had some kind of sixth sense... "Yuki," Shuichi said, smiling as he strutted over proudly and positioned the tray on the novelist's lap. "How are you feeling?"
"Horrible." Eiri moved the tray closer and picked up a spoon, stirring the hot soup slowly and letting the calming steam penetrate his skin. "I never get this sick."
Shuichi shrugged, and crawled onto his own side of the bed, lying on his stomach there. It felt nice to play hooky, he thought, and idly wondered what K would say to him tomorrow. Or what arsenal he might thrust at Shuichi's head. "It happens. I hope you like my soup. Watch it. S'hot."
"I would hope." Eiri brought a spoonful to his lips and blew lightly. His attention flicked over to Shuichi beside him as he drank. He looked just as tired as Eiri was, strangely enough. Shuichi never seemed to be out of energy. Was Eiri that much of a burden? Well, he concluded, it was Shuichi's own damn fault. Eiri had never asked to be cared for.
The blond opened his mouth to say something witty when a slew of bandaged fingers caught his eye. "...What happened to you?"
Shuichi looked up, confused a moment, then nervously clasped his hands and chuckled. "Oh... Eheh... I had a little accident with the stove while making the soup."
"How the hell can you screw up with /soup/?"
"It can happen!" Shuichi pouted, and scrambled to a seated position. He fiddled with the corner of Eiri's pillow. "Sorry. But I made the soup, and it's good, isn't it?"
"You didn't burn or break anything, did you?"
"Only my fingers." He extended his hand to the novelist's face.
Eiri observed the slim digits, sloppily wrapped in bright green Band-Aids. Well, it was endearing enough. Quietly, Eiri set his spoon aside, and clasped Shuichi's hand, bringing the other's fingers to his lips and giving them a gentle kiss. "Thanks, but don't try it again, or I'll end up the one taking care of /you/." He gave Shuichi a look that clearly said how much he wanted to do /that/.
Shuichi, a little surprised, watched as the novelist returned to drinking his soup without another word, sleepy golden eyes staring blankly ahead, and smiled. "You're welcome, Yuki."
~Regina~
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