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“Suguru I’m dying!”
“No you’re not, please stop-”
“But I am! See-”
“No, stop, I do not want to see the contents of that bucket, Satoru. I won’t tell you again-”
“Are you two done?” Shoko sighed, flipping through the small packet she had left the room to print, leaving Satoru and Suguru alone in the exam room for a brief moment.
Satoru huffed and sank back onto the exam table, energy drained and face gaunt. He really did feel as if he was dying. It wasn’t every day that the strongest was taken down and made to stay in bed. Reverse curse technique works fine for most injuries, it’s served him well in the past; he’s made it this far almost completely scar free. You would have thought it was a deadly poison that knocked down the special grade with the way he had been complaining.
“It’s a norovirus, Satoru. It just needs to run its course. You’ll be fine in a few days,” Shoko explained, handing the packet off to an unimpressed Suguru who continued to watch as Satoru wiggled around in discomfort.
“I don’t get sick.”
“Yes you do,” came the monotone response from the others as Shoko moved to clean up the small room. She rustled through a drawer quickly and then threw a small box over to Suguru, who caught it easily.
“What’s this?” he asked, looking over the box carefully and dodging the frantic waving of Satoru’s hand as he flailed around, trying to get someone, anyone, to acknowledge his suffering.
“Zofran. Once, under the tongue, every eight hours until he can hold down food. Small sips of water or whatever sports drink you have on hand-”
“I like the purple ones!”
“... the purple ones? Sure, I guess. Now, I don’t want to see either of you back here unless something drastic happens. I’m talking bloody-”
And this is where Satoru decided to tune out because, really, he could handle whatever this virus had to throw at him. He could handle special grade curses single handedly, level cities if he really wanted to (sometimes he really, really wanted to), and was teaching up some of the most promising jujutsu students in a generation. Germs were so small and insignificant, he could just mini hollow purple the fuckers and call it a day. He’s come back from the dead, hell, he’ll probably come back from the dead a second time at some point.
“Satoru, sweetheart, you can’t ‘hollow purple the fuckers’, they’re germs and they’re inside of you already,” came a melodic and sweet voice, followed by a heavy and cool press to his forehead. “You’re really out of it, huh? More so than usual.”
Shit… did he say that out loud?
“You did, and your fever is spiking again,” came a much…less… melodic voice. He felt the cool hand tilt his head back as something was placed into his mouth followed by a cup to his lips. The water was quickly taken away after a few seconds, dry mouth suddenly screaming for more.
“Not fair… ‘s not fair- I’m thirsty…”
The hand moved from his forehead to comb through his sweaty hair. Preening like a cat, he leaned further into the touch and let out a whine. A super manly, very strong, very masculine whine.
“I hate being here for this so I’m gonna go. But Suguru, call me if you have questions. And Satoru… don’t throw up on Suguru,” was the last thing Satoru heard from her before steady footsteps walked out of the room, filled by a softly closing door.
“Thank you Shoko,” the voice started again, taking the hand away and gently shake his shoulder. “C’mon Satoru, I’m not carrying you to bed, we have to go.”
With another very masculine whine, Satoru shook his head and blinked fever clouded eyes up at his husband. He really was pulling out the big guns here. But, could you blame him? He gets to be baby for a few days while his very handsome partner can play nursemaid.
Wait, that got him thinking. Maybe he should order a costume. It was only February, but he could still order the nurse costume online. Shipping would be a bitch, but it was worth it if he could see Suguru try to squeeze into one of those latex monstrosities.
From Suguru’s sigh, he came to the conclusion he was still bypassing the filter between his brain and mouth.
Yuuji had learned a lot since enrolling at Tokyo Jujutsu High. He means that, really! He knows the curse and sorcerer rankings by heart now and he almost has that black flash down to a science. He knew so much more, too, but right now he couldn’t be bothered to recall any of it because something he never thought he would ever see was happening right in front of him.
“Why is Geto-sensei carrying Gojo-sensei down the hall?”
Megumi looked up from his book and leveled a flat stare towards Yuuji. Yuuji, of course, did not see said glare as he continued to stare at the retreating back of Geto as a white head of hair lolled on his shoulder.
“Gojo has the stomach bug,” Nobara supplied, putting down the emory board she was using. Examining her nails and nodding to note her satisfaction at the job she had done. With a sigh, she stood up and made her way out of the classroom. When she reached the door, she turned around and caught the eyes of the other two. “We ditching, or what? I wanna head into town to check out that new Uniqlo that opened up.”
“Shouldn’t we go check if he’s okay?” Yuuji asked, genuine concern playing across his features. “Shouldn’t his reverse curse technique have prevented that? Shouldn’t infinity protect him from germs and all that gross stuff?” Why weren’t the other’s as concerned?
The flat stare Megumi had leveled at Yuuji did not falter. If anything, it got sharper. “RCT doesn’t work against viruses, or bacteria. Also, Gojo doesn’t have his infinity up all the time. Most of the time sure, but he probably just had it down when him and Geto were out somewhere and picked something up. He’s been sick before-”
“Should we still try to help?” Yuuji pushed, eyes darting between Megumi and Nobara to try to read their faces for concern he felt that he was currently shouldering alone.
“No,” Megumi barked, slamming his book shut and grabbing Yuuji’s hood as he passed. With strength that Yuuji continues to forget Megumi has, he was shoved out of his chair and in the direction of the doorway. Yuuji struggled at first, but accepted the fact he was being forced out of the room and followed the other two as they made their way in the opposite direction of the two teachers.
“Gojo is the worst when he’s sick. Acts like a child, more so than usual. He got a head cold the first winter I knew him. Had Tsumiki preparing ancient Chinese medicinal recipes daily. It was a headache to find some of the ingredients. Geto wasn’t around then, either.”
“Those methods are awesome though! Don’t you use some still? We had that tea the other night-”
“She was seven.”
“Ahh. I get it now.”
“Do you have everything you need?” Suguru asked the pair of blue eyes peaking out from under a mountain of blankets. Pillows were neatly lined up around said blankets, to keep them from spilling over and onto the floor from the bed. Suguru had tried to find every soft thing in their shared apartment to create a comfy enough environment for Satoru to burrow into while he finished up the remainder of both of their paperwork from the last mission. Like he usually did, even when Satoru was well.
“No….” came the pathetic voice that was owned by said pair of eyes. Suguru sighed and moved on the bed to move some of the blankets away from the mouth that also went with the eyes.
Satoru shook his head to break free from his comfy prison, bottom lip pushed out in a pout. His husband had this look on his face that Satoru couldn’t place. There was concern there, sure, but there was something else. Something familiar but also new to the current situation. Suguru hadn’t been around Satoru sick in years.
He’s pretty sure the last time he was actually sick was right around the time Suguru had left for that inpatient treatment center the year after Riko died. He doesn’t know if that even counts as being sick, Shoko had said something about depression and stress causing the immune system to stop working as well…blah blah blah. But anyways, he was better by the time Suguru came back so now that he thinks of it, he’s never had Suguru take care of him like this before. Maybe he should ask Megumi what that tea was again.
“Wanna kiss,” Satoru mumbled, looking up at his husband hopefully.
Suguru dropped his head for a moment before looking back up at Satoru with that fake closed lip smile he used for when he was irritated and didn’t want to show it. Satoru hated that smile.
Irritated, that’s what that emotion was.
New discovery now at the forefront of his brain, Satoru turned his head with a humph and attempted to burrow back into his makeshift cocoon of wool and cotton.
Vision now covered partially by fabric, Satoru didn’t see the way that Suguru’s expression fell but then quickly turned into annoyance that wasn’t the fond kind that he was usually on the receiving end of. “Seriously?”
“....you hate me.”
A sigh. “I don’t hate you. You’re annoying me right now, but I still love you. And you need to tell me if you have everything so I can go finish both mine and your paperwork-”
Satoru sniffled and burrowed himself into the blankets further, trying to merge himself with the sherpa one currently wrapped around his shoulders. “Hate me so much, you won’t even kiss your husband… your one and only…”
A hand came and yanked the top most blankets from over Satoru’s head, which caused him to yelp and try to duck back under the closest replacement. Suguru stopped him with a hand gripping his chin as he moved Satoru’s face so he could look into his eyes.
“You’re so pretty when you’re mad. Do I ever tell you that?”
Suguru let a controlled exhale through his nose and closed his eyes. Satoru knew he was counting to ten in his head, that therapist he has now had been amazing. Suguru has been so good these last few months. And well, winters are always hard, but this time around-
“You do. Now, Satoru, I need you to use that big brain of yours. You are sick,”
Satoru nodded because, yes, he was.
“...and you need to rest,”
Another nod.
“And you need to listen to me,”
More nodding.
“And Shoko,”
Satoru tried to shake his head, but Suguru’s fingers gripped his chin harder. He looked up at Suguru, who just lazily cocked a brow and tilted his head towards him as if to say ‘try it’.
Satoru did in fact want to try it but decided that this could be done on a day where he could enjoy the fruits of his labor and not on a day where he could feel his body actively wringing itself out.
So, he nodded…begrudgingly.
He was rewarded with a genuine Suguru smile for his efforts. “Good boy.”
If Satoru had a tail, it would be wagging.
Pleased that Satoru was complimented enough to be agreeable, Suguru removed his hand and pet his head, fingers massaging sweaty temples to relieve some of the dehydration headache.
“I’m not kissing you because you threw up not an hour ago, and I don’t want to get sick,” he explained, watching as Satoru’s eyes began to close. “One of us needs to be responsible.”
Satoru felt his eyes slowly fall closed, finally falling into some semblance of comfort after a long day of tension. “.... why ‘s it always you?” He mumbled, nuzzling into the pile of blankets closest to his face as Suguru moved his hand away.
“Because I don’t mind holding that burden for you, so you can be happy and so you can get well again,” was the simple response.
Light filtered through the slated blinds in their room, casting a soft orange glow as the late winter sunset began to settle below the horizon adding to Satoru’s already hazy mind as his Six Eyes worked overtime to compensate for the virus. He was safe here, with Suguru, in their room. He didn’t need to do anything, he could just exist without needing to be something to someone. Whether that was a teacher, pseudo-father figure, weapon, etc… He didn’t need to be useful here, with his husband, in their home. Here he could actually rest.
“I love you,” he breathed, cracking open one blue eye to peer at Suguru as he moved from the bed towards the door. But that didn’t feel like enough, it never did.
“I love you too, Satoru,” came the easy response from Suguru. A practiced response, but no less sincere. He dimmed the lights when he reached the switch, wanting to make it easier for Satoru to finally get some sleep. “Now, for the last time, seriously, do you need anything?”
Well, did he?
He felt fully cared for, had a handsome man waiting on him hand and foot out of no obligation other than the mutual love and respect they felt for each other, a literal mountain of blankets, some buckets for you know… that… what more could he ask for?
Actually, now that he thinks of it, there was something.
“....Gatorade?”
“From the import store?”
“...purple Gatorade?”
Suguru agreed with a sharp nod and sigh, turning around to move towards the front door. “You’re in for it when you’re feeling better,” he promised, voice just loud enough for Satoru to hear.
“Oh yeah? Can’t wait to see you try,” Satoru started to tell him, sitting up in bed quickly only to then lean over and use one of those buckets for their intended purpose.
Suguru only rolled his eyes as he continued out of the apartment, mind already racing with ideas.