Title: The Best Medicine
Author: BrightAngel
Fandom: Weiss Kreuz
Rated: PG-13
Pairing: Ran/Ken/Yohji
Warning: Mild Angst
Summary: A kitten gets sick, and the others seem less than sympathetic...

Tuesday

"Thank you! Please come again!" The tall brunet waved cheerfully at the woman's retreating back, a smile plastered across his face.

The shop door jingled open.

It closed.

~Keep smiling, keep smiling...~

The woman passed the shop windows, disappearing out of sight.

He slumped against the counter, uttering a half-whispered epithet as he lowered his face into his hands. "Thank god... I thought she'd never leave!"

Kudou Yohji was a man with a knack for charming women. Among the four employees of the Koneko no Sumu Ie, he was the only one with a perfect sales record among his female customers.

Even the abysmally difficult ones. Though there was no signboard or advertisement saying so, some customers seemed to think that the Koneko offered "Arrangements While U Wait!", and insisted upon seeing the placement of every single flower they ordered. More often than not, they had terrible aesthetic taste.

But no matter. Yohji was a man of patience and good humor, obliging every trivial request. After all, at the end of the day, he could always look forward to the one thing that made it all better.

A good man waiting for him.

Well... two good men, to be exact.

Speaking of which... Yohji looked up with an expectant smile as the shop door opened again. "Ken... you're on time for a change."

The young man smiled crookedly, ducking quickly inside and shrugging off his rain-soaked windbreaker. "Oh yeah, you're one to talk... Hey, put this somewhere, would you?" He tossed a muddy soccer ball to Yohji, who caught it with plant-stained hands. Ken disappeared into the back room, and Yohji smiled faintly in appreciation of Ken's shorts-clad ass as he went. He dogged Ken's heels, pausing to toss the soccer ball in a supply closet and handing Ken a towel in return.

"Ah, thanks..." Ken reached to take hold of the towel, tilting his head up to give Yohji a swift kiss on the lips before drying his hair. "It's raining like crazy out there!"

Yohji cast Ken a bemused smile, leaning against the doorframe so he could watch for customers. "It sounds like it. Lots of customers in the shop today... I think people want a little color to brighten up all the gray. How was soccer practice?"

Ken laughed. "The kids played great in the rain... The parents didn't enjoy it quite as much. But hey, at least the team had fun." He rubbed his upper arms. "It's even cold in the shop," he remarked.

Yohji sighed. "Yeah... Cold and damp. We need to see about getting a new heating system in here." The refrigerated display cases didn't help matters, either. The cold, wet air was giving Yohji a faint scratch in the back of his throat, and pressure behind his eyes. The last thing he needed was a cold. "Naa, Ken... get changed. We can finish up the rest of the day's orders and close up by four." He ambled over, putting his arms around the other man's waist, nuzzling Ken's ear.

"Sounds tempting..." Ken replied with a smile, bending his head to kiss the side of Yohji's neck. "But I gotta get upstairs and in front of the TV. There's a big match on tonight, and coverage starts at three."

Yohji pulled back, brows furrowed, mouth set in a firm pout. "You said we'd relax together tonight!" he protested. "And that you'd help me end the shift..."

"I know..." Ken bit his lip, looking up at Yohji with large, liquid-brown eyes.

Yohji sighed, defeated. "Get rid of the calf-eyes," he grumbled. "You've got half an hour before the game starts. You'd better hurry up and shower."

Ken seized Yohji's hand, pulling him back into a penitent embrace. "I'm sorry... tomorrow night, huh?"

Yohji smiled easily. "Yeah, tomorrow's fine." He snorted and shook his head. "Soccer... What is it with you and kicking around big balls, Ken? Maybe it's Freudian..."

"Baka!" Ken replied indignantly, eyes shining as he turned to clatter up the staircase.

Yohji watched him go, then turned to slump with his elbows on the counter again. "Oh well..." he said aloud, looking at his watch. Two and a half more hours until the shop was supposed to close. ~It wasn't his shift, anyway... he didn't have to help me.~

That was the good thing about having two boyfriends. If one couldn't be there, there was always a chance the other could.

A moment later, Yohji slammed down the phone with a sour expression. Of course, there was always the chance that the second boyfriend wasn't available, either.

It seemed as if Kudou Yohji was also a man with a problem. For all his patience and charm, and for all his luck in love, it seemed as if said patience was being worn thinner and thinner by said lovers.

The shop door jingled.

Yohji sighed.

~Here we go again...~

At 3:30, it had been raining hard and steady.

By 5:30, the sky was practically falling.

Yohji trudged up the stairs, forcing himself to remember former days where he'd have to walk back to his apartment after work. Now that Momoe-san was living with family in Kobe, the four young men shared the spacious town home attached to the flower shop. It was easy to appreciate a dry trip from the shop to the house, but he managed to soak up a considerable amount of rain just the same, moving signboards inside and taking a smoke break before heading upstairs - Omi strictly prohibited smoking in the main part of the house. And Yohji had no desire to sit and smoke in his room alone... Ken was watching the soccer game, and Aya was doing reconnaissance work for a mission the next night.

"Ya... tadaima..." Yohji intoned listlessly as he pushed through the door.

"Yohji-kun! Take off your shoes... you'll track on the carpet!"

Yohji glared up at Omi, whose back was turned toward the bookshelf on the far side of the living room. "I was planning on taking them off... y'don't need to shout." He toed off his shoes and wandered into the living room, glancing at Ken on the sofa. The young man's face was fixed on the television set in rapt attention, blue-green reflections flickering in his deep brown eyes, his mouth hanging slack like an entranced child. "How's your team doing, Ken?"

Ken shook his head, blinking owlishly at Yohji, disoriented at the sudden influence of the world outside soccer. "Huh? Oh, heh... I'm not really rooting for either team. But this'll decide who plays F.C. in the next game!"

"Awesome..." Yohji replied weakly, turning away toward the kitchen. Yohji liked sports as much as anybody, but Ken's following of the Tokyo J-league teams bordered on a fetish. Running his hands through his damp hair, Yohji opened the refrigerator and peered among the contents. His throat was still feeling raw, and his skin was prickly with cold... he could do with something hot.

"Omi... where's my coffee?"

"What coffee?" Omi was settling down in the living room armchair with an armload of textbooks and his clipboard.

"My coffee. The Italian blend." Yohji peered into the vegetable drawers of the refrigerator. "The insanely expensive gourmet stuff..."

"Ken, didn't you throw that package away earlier?" Omi lifted an eyebrow at the brunet.

"What? Oh..." Ken turned around to offer Yohji an apologetic grimace. "That was your last bag?"

Yohji's mouth twitched to one side. "Yes. Yes, it was."

"Sorry... you always have about two or three packages of your coffee, and we were out of ours." Ken bit his lip, cocking his head in that inquisitive, "forgive me?" sort of expression that he was so good at creating.

Yohji sighed, stifling a cough as he did so. "I'll kill you one day, Ken," he said with a slight smile and a shake of his head. "When's Aya coming home?"

"He'll be out all night, I think."

~Great...~ Yohji seated himself at the kitchen table with a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. "What're the teams for this one, again?"

Omi didn't look up, studiously taking notes from his text. "Tomorrow is more recon. Thursday, you and I are seeding the explosives," he replied, without pausing in his industrious scribbling. "Friday, Aya-kun and Ken-kun take out the targets and blow their HQ sky high."

"You're working hard, Omitchi." Yohji downed a palmful of aspirin.

"I'm also getting paid twice as much."

"Fair enough." Yohji leaned his elbows on the table and raked his hair back. "Well, I'm going to go take a shower and hit the sack. Alone," he added pointedly, raising his voice for Ken's benefit.

Ken made no response, transfixed by the action on the TV screen.

Omi finally looked up. "You don't want dinner?"

Yohji shook his head, getting to his feet. "Nah... not very hungry tonight. I've probably got a package or two of senbei under my bed if I get peckish." He tousled Omi's hair as he passed by the boy's chair. "'Night."

"Oyasumi, Yohji-kun." Omi smiled up at Yohji, watching him walk to the stairs.

"G'night, Ken..." Yohji looked back with a vaguely hopeful expression, pausing with one foot on the first step.

"Nn... 'Night." Ken still didn't look away from the TV.

With a weak smile, Yohji mounted the rest of the stairs. He knew he shouldn't expect more than that from Ken, especially not during a soccer game.

After all, it wasn't anything he wasn't used to.

Wednesday

Yohji awoke to the sound of rain thundering on his window. He was hot, and slick with sweat, and his throat felt sealed shut. Gritting his teeth, Yohji swallowed, feeling the sticky, mucous mess part and give way to a raw burn that made him groan out loud. "God... damn it..." he muttered, rolling out of bed and staggering to the bathroom.

He knew perfectly well that antibacterial mouthwash wouldn't do squat against a cold virus. But he ignored his better judgment for the sake of pettiness and morning breath, and helped himself to a foamy green mouthful. It made his throat feel a little better. Maybe he wasn't sick after all.

Trudging back into the bedroom, Yohji stood in front of his open closet door for a long time, staring at the rows of clothing... looking cute would make him feel better. Bolstered by the thought, he chose a pair of baggy black cargo pants and a shrunken green camouflage t-shirt. The ball-chain necklace he fastened around his neck was stingingly cold... His t-shirt rode up his sides and stomach as he raised his arms to put his hair back... the cool air prickled painfully against his skin there. He ignored it. He wasn't sick, after all.

Trudging down to the kitchen, Yohji opened the fridge... remembering belatedly that his coffee was all gone. He sighed. Maybe there was coffee in the flower shop. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he left the apartment and headed down the back stairwell into the Koneko.

"Ohayo, Yohji-kun," Omi greeted him warmly, looking up from his work and waving cheerfully. "You're off today. What're you doing down here?"

"Looking for coffee." Yohji made a beeline to the back counter, zeroing in on the tantalizing scent of the coffee machine percolating near the sink. Turning his chipped green mug right-side-up, he filled it and took a long swallow of the steaming liquid, shuddering as it went down and sent a frisson of heat skimming over his bare arms and down his back.

"Looks like you found it." Omi chuckled softly, and went back to repotting bulbs. "Aya-kun's doing more reconnaissance. He left you a note on your worktable..."

Yohji raised an eyebrow, ambling across the shop floor to pick up the scrap of yellow paper wedged beneath a stack of empty flowerpots. He unfolded it with one hand, holding his coffee cup close under his nose with the other. The steam warmed his face... too bad it didn't warm the rest of him. He cocked his head to read the note, written in Aya's blocky handwriting.

Yohji-
Do my deliveries. Back later tonight.
-Aya

Yohji twitched.

Omi raised an eyebrow. "Yohji-kun, is everything all right?"

Growling something under his breath, he thrust the note in Omi's direction, then stalked over to Aya's workstation to peruse the list of deliveries that day. "Shit... this is ridiculous. Omi, where's Ken?"

"He's already taking his own deliveries around. The two big hotel arrangements, remember?"

Yohji grunted faintly. "I'm doing a payout for gas..." He reached into Omi's open register and pulled out several bills.

"Hey! I was just totaling that, Yohji-kun!"

Yohji gave Omi a pointed "not-another-word" stare. "Then just subtract three thousand when you're done."

Omi glared, planting his hands on his hips. "Yohji-kun, what's wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're never this nasty... It's not as if I did anything to you today. So lay off, okay?"

Yohji blinked, then sighed. "Sorry... I'm just a little under the weather." Abruptly, Omi was upon him, dragging him to the center table and forcing him to sit down. Yohji scowled up at Omi as the young man laid a hand on his forehead. "You don't need to-"

"Quiet. Yohji-kun, you've got a fever," Omi said matter-of-factly.

Yohji crossed his arms with a huff. "Maybe your hand is just hot."

Omi shook his head and sighed. "Don't make me call a Kritiker medic and have them sedate you. Because I will." He slid a hand beneath Yohji's chin, tilting the other man's face up and bending down to lay his cheek against Yohji's forehead. "Well, it isn't just my hand. You're too hot."

"Yes, it's sad, really... my looks have always been a curse-"

Omi rolled his eyes. "Mou, Yohji-kun... You've been sniffling for two days, and coughing all morning. You're sick."

"Not sick."

"You and I have a mission tomorrow, you know... You should have been resting!" Omi planted his hands on his hips, pouting darkly at Yohji.

"I was resting, until Aya told me I needed to do his deliveries!" Yohji got up, crossing the room and pretending to check the pot moisture of a Hawaiian ginger plant. "I've never been taken down by a cold before. I'll be fine by tomorrow." He ran a finger along one of the brilliant fuchsia spikes, polishing away the light coating of soil dust.

"Kritiker won't allow it."

Omi and Yohji turned in unison to the shop door. "Birman!"

The Kritiker agent stepped inside, cool and professional in a dark charcoal overcoat and matching slacks. Her hair was rain-damp, several strands falling out of their otherwise perfect knot. "Our agents must be in acceptable physical condition when undertaking a mission. You must perform at your best."

Yohji crossed his arms, leaning against the wall with a sour expression. "I've fought wounded before. You didn't complain then."

Birman was unperturbed. "Only when the mission had already begun. The circumstances there are entirely different from ordinary stupidity. Well, usually. You knew this mission was scheduled, and you should have said something the moment you thought you might not be able to fight. Besides..." Their handler quirked an eyebrow, leveling Yohji with a serene smile. "What if you were to sneeze and get caught?"

Omi snickered softly.

Yohji glared.

"An embarrassing situation, no?" The woman perched herself on the edge of the center table. "You will stay home from this mission. Siberian will take your place."

Omi blinked. "Ken-kun? I don't know if he's available tomorrow..."

"He'll have to be. I trust you agree with my judgment, Balinese?"

Yohji coughed discreetly, turning his head pointedly away, thoughts of a missed soccer game parading ominously across the back of his mind.

Birman smiled. "Bombay, you and the others are free to manipulate this mission's orders at will, due to the last-minute change. The only stipulation is that Balinese will not be participating."

"Che..." Yohji let out a harsh, angry noise, pushing off the wall and slouching into the stockroom. "I've got deliveries." Omi and Birman watched him go.

"Well, then..." Birman continued lightly. "Bombay, I'll leave you to it."

"W-Wait! Don't leave me here with his bad temper!"

"I am truly sorry," Birman said over her shoulder. "Consider it overtime."

Omi sighed and watched her go. It was going to be a long day.

"What do you mean, Thursday night's sting?!" Ken's outraged screech startled one of the shop cats into hiding beneath a fern.

Omi winced, rubbing at one ear. "I'm sorry, Ken-kun. But Birman said Yohji's not allowed to go. And Aya-kun's been doing all the recon..."

"No way! Absolutely no way! Fukuoka's playing Hiroshima on Thursday, and I'm not going to miss it! I missed their last match and it was the best game of the season!" Ken's voice was high-pitched, indignant, dangerously close to tantrum-level.

"Please, Ken-kun..." Omi held out his hands in a desperate, placating gesture.

Ken shut his open mouth, setting his teeth in a grinding clench. "Where's Yohji?"

Omi frowned. "He's doing deliveries, too... he left right after you. He should be back soon."

"I swear, the second he gets back here-"

"Don't blame him! He had a fever this morning. I felt it myself."

"I'm sure he did," Ken snarled. "The second I see him I'm taking his temperature for real. And if it isn't at least 39 degrees I swear to God I'll shove that thermometer so far up-"

"Ken-kun! That's enough!" Omi fixed him with a pinpoint stare of ice blue. "It's not Yohji's fault that he's sick, so don't you dare go blaming him! If it had been your mission to begin with, you'd just have to deal with it!"

Ken sunk into a dark pout, straddling one of the shop chairs backwards and laying his chin on his folded arms.

Omi picked up a vase, swiped it inside and out with a paper towel, then turned to put it back on its shelf. "And please don't lose your temper again when he comes back."

Ken grunted, but remained quiet.

...Until the back door opened.

"Tadaima..."

"Oi! Yohji-" Ken jumped to his feet. "What gives?! You knew I had plans tomorrow night!"

"Ah-"

"You've sure got lousy timing, you know that? Getting sick, of all things..." Ken shoved a wickedly pointed finger under Yohji's nose, his expression one of the most intense irritation.

Omi groaned, and shook his head.

"You know, since my tomorrow's ruined, I may as well go out tonight and make the best of it." Ken shoved past Yohji, stomping up the stairs.

Yohji blinked, regarding the suddenly-vacant space in front of him. "...Hi, Ken. Nice to see you, too," he murmured, raising a hand to greet thin air. "I'm feeling much better, thanks for asking."

Omi bit his lip, giving Yohji an apologetic look. "Don't worry about him, Yohji-kun. He's just cranky from doing deliveries all day, I'm sure. And he's probably nervous because he has a lot of mission data to go over before tomorrow night."

Yohji made a faint noise of acknowledgement, then shook his head. He gave Omi a small, sad smile. "You don't need to make excuses for him." He sighed. "I'm used to Ken." With a sigh, he headed for the stairs himself. There was a tight knot in his chest, one that made him wrap his arms around himself and tuck his chin down against the odd chill in the air. Had Ken forgotten about their plans to spend time alone tonight? Or had he deliberately pushed them aside? Yohji wasn't sure which was the worse option...

He ate in his room that night, despite Omi's urging to come downstairs. He simply didn't feel like seeing the vacant couch where he and Ken should have been lying in a tangle of limbs and throw blankets, and the miserable little feeling curling in his chest had finally transformed from bitter disappointment to flat-out loneliness.

"What's the matter with you?"

The voice in the doorway made Yohji's heart skip and his breath catch, and he turned with wide eyes to see Aya standing there, one hand on the doorframe, his face creased with concern. A wide smile broke over Yohji's face, and he scrambled up from his bed into the arms that Aya held out for him. "Mmm... I missed you..." he murmured, burrowing his face into Aya's neck.

Aya blinked, confused even as he slid his fingers into the hair at the back of Yohji's neck and turned to brush his lips against Yohji's warm cheek. "I'm only home for a while..." he said briskly, disengaging himself from Yohji and crossing to the closet. "I need to change into mission gear."

Yohji sighed, then sat back down on the bed with a dejected sigh. "More recon..." he intoned dully.

Aya nodded, pulling out the unrelieved black he always wore beneath his coat on missions. He glanced over at Yohji as he pulled his shirt off. "You're flushed... are you sick?"

Yohji shook his head with a faint smile. "Just happy to see you."

Aya made a faint, noncommittal sound of acknowledgement.

Yohji cocked his head. He was used to Aya being aloof, a stark contrast to Ken's normal easy affection. But this was ridiculous. Aya would hardly look in his direction. "Na, Aya... c'mere a minute." Yohji held out one hand, one eyebrow raised entreatingly.

With a wary look, Aya turned from the closet. "What?"

"Just come here." Yohji shook the outstretched hand for emphasis, then smiled as Aya turned and crossed the distance between them. Yohji's arms went around his lover's waist, and he leaned his head against Aya's stomach, breathing in the warmth and scent of him.

Aya shook his head and stroked Yohji's hair absently, glancing over at the clock. "What's this about?"

"Are you mad at me?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You and Ken... I've hardly seen you in days, and Ken's pissed at me for having a cold."

"So you are sick."

"I didn't say - damn. Yeah, I guess, a little bit."

"Yohji..." Aya extracted himself from the other man's arms again. "If you're sick, then go to sleep before you make yourself useless for tomorrow."

Yohji snorted. "Thanks a heap for your concern. Would it kill you to be nice to me?"

"We're all having bad days," Aya replied, his voice hotly irritated. "We're in the middle of a mission, and Ken has every right to be mad that what little free time he has is going to be taken up. Wouldn't you be? When this mission is over you can come fishing for affection, but until then just stay out of the way if you don't plan on helping!"

Yohji stared at Aya, his eyes wide and round. He felt like he'd been slapped. Or punched. Or a sick, painful combination of both. "Fine," he bit out. "That's fine, Aya... That's just fucking fine! You want me to stay out of the way? I'm gone." With a snarl, Yohji pushed up from the bed, grabbed his jacket off the closet doorknob, and swept out of the room.

All traces of sickness were forgotten as Yohji stormed down the stairs, across the living room, and into the genkan, feeling his blood boil at Ken's voice from behind him - "Sure, you can go out clubbing, but you can't work tomorrow night!"

"Fuck off, Ken!" Yohji slammed the door behind him. His keys dug painfully into his clenched fist as he stomped over to the car and wrenched the door open. He didn't know where he was going, nor did he care. He just wanted to get the hell away from his team, all of whom seemed to have it in for him that night. Well, maybe not Omi, but he could've said something to Ken for that asshole remark... Omi just didn't care.

He ended up choosing a club he didn't visit too frequently, something strobe-lit and loud on one end, lazy and liquor-clouded on the other. He slouched into one of the leather-upholstered seats on the end opposite the dance floor, ordered a black Russian and a bourbon straight on the rocks, and prepared himself for a thoroughly worthless evening.

"This seat taken?"

Yohji glanced up at the young woman who had perched on the arm of his chair and was already sliding down to wedge her petite hips into the chair with his. "I don't know if you want to do that, honey... I've had a rough night."

"Mm..." The girl gave him a smile and a wink, pulling out a silver cigarette case. "Maybe we can fix that." She opened a silver lighter with some anime character or another emblazoned on it, then snuggled close into his shoulder. "Lucky Strikes. Want one?"

Yohji took a cigarette from the proffered case, then reached up to catch the girl by the chin and turn her surprised, alcohol-flushed face down to light his cigarette on the glowing end of hers. "Thanks, kid."

"What's your name?"

"Kudou Yohji."

"I'm Kimiko. Nice to meet you." She leaned up and gave him a peck on the cheek, then giggled sweetly.

"I think you've had enough to drink tonight, missy." Yohji turned his head slightly and coughed. His throat still hurt, though the smoky haze in the club was beginning to nullify the congested haze behind his eyes.

"What's the matter? Got a cold? That's no reason to look so gloomy." Kimiko slid a hand down Yohji's thigh. "Let's cheer you up."

Yohji chuckled dryly. "Sorry, honey. My boyfriend will be mad if he finds out."

Kimiko looked like she'd been drenched with a bucket of water. "Your... boyfriend?"

Yohji nodded, and took a deep drag from his cigarette. "Sorry to disappoint you."

Kimiko slumped back, running a hand through her dark hair. "Nah... just thought I'd find some company tonight." She gave him a mournful, full-lipped pout.

"Aa... now don't look at me like that." Yohji stifled another cough, and sniffled slightly. "What's the trouble?"

"My boyfriend... we had a fight, so I decided to go out by myself tonight."

Yohji raised an eyebrow. "You don't say..."

Thursday

The sun in his eyes woke Yohji with an unpleasant start. He groaned, choking down mucus and rubbing his sandy eyes with the back of his hand. "Oh... god..." He couldn't remember when he'd felt so bad. His back was killing him - he realized belatedly that he had fallen asleep on the couch. Slowly, he began to recall what had happened the night before... He and Kimiko had bitched about their respective boyfriends until last call, fueled by drinks that kept coming. He wasn't sure who had paid the tab at the end of the night. Rolling over, Yohji squinted at the VCR clock.

8:37

"SHIT!" He jolted to his feet... or, rather, tried to. His knees nearly turned to water beneath him as he grabbed hastily for the couch armrest. Ken was going to kill him. He was supposed to have been in the shop over half an hour ago.

Yohji briefly considered grabbing something to eat, but the thought of food made his stomach churn. Instead he made for the door, stopping to clear his throat and force a cough to try and shake the rattling in his chest.

"Had a nice night out?" Ken looked up to greet Yohji with a sour expression.

Yohji simply shook his head, unable to muster an answer. He felt bad. Very, very bad. The short trip across the outdoor landing between the apartment and the shop had chilled him. He crossed to the coffeemaker, filling his mug from the full pot and simply holding the warm thing until his hands stopped shaking enough to function.

Ken was watching him, brows lowered. "We have work to do..." he muttered sullenly.

"Yeah..." Yohji took a careful sip, the taste and smell of coffee making his stomach protest wildly, but it was nice to have something warm inside him. He forced down half the cup, then put it down with a shaky sigh and went to his worktable to check the day's list. Unfortunately, for some unnerving reason, the words wouldn't stay where they were supposed to, and his vision began to blur at the edges.

"Yohji"

Ken, I... don't feel good...

"Oi, Yohji!"

He whirled around, gripping his table edge for support. "What?"

Ken was holding out a plastic tub of purple irises. "You need these."

Yohji blinked, then forced a smile. "Aa... thanks." He reached for the container, his fingers falling short and his arm falling back to his side.

Ken cocked his head. "You look pale... did you go and make yourself worse last night? Beautiful..."

"Ken, please... stop, okay?"

"I'm not saying another word."

"Good. You..." Yohji trailed off, instantly forgetting what he was going to say as a chill shuddered its way up and down his spine. His stomach was churning, and he swallowed down a mouthful of saliva. His throat contracted with a searing scrape, and the pain almost made him sick.

"Yohji... you look pale." Ken's voice was louder now, alarmed.

"I'm... fine..." Yohji backed away, leaning back against the counter. It was so hard to stay upright. He was tired... He needed to sit down... just for a moment...

"Yohji, what's wrong? Yohji!"

Ken... I'm gonna fall...

And even as his legs seemed to disappear beneath him, strong arms caught him around the waist. Yohji leaned his head into Ken's shoulder, gritting his teeth. "Ken, I..."

"You're burning up!" Ken pressed a palm to Yohji's forehead, then turned it over to brush Yohji's hair back. "Why didn't you say something when you came down?"

"You... didn't want to hear it."

"Oh, god, Yohji..." Ken shook his head, laying a hand against Yohji's cheek, biting his lip anxiously. "You need to get upstairs. Come on..." He lifted Yohji up against his side, and they made their slow way up the back steps.

Yohji held onto Ken as they navigated the apartment, staring blankly ahead with rheumy eyes. He was only too happy to let Ken lead him up the inside staircase - pausing once to catch his breath - to his bed, sitting him down and helping him pull off his shirt. The room was colder than it should have been against his flushed skin, making him shiver and wrap his arms around himself.

"Oi... Yohji..." Ken was handing him his pajamas. Absently, Yohji took them, stripping off the rest of his clothes as quickly as he could and replacing them with the far less-insulating layer. The cold seemed almost physical, biting at his skin, digging into his joints like an icy wedge to make them creak and ache when he moved. The watery gray morning light and the steady beat of rain against his window weren't helping him feel any warmer, either.

Ken wasn't sure how Yohji, with his height, had managed to get oversized pajama-bottoms, but the black cotton puddled overlong around his feet and hung indecently low on his hips even when he pulled the drawstring. Yohji allowed him to help pull on the gray sleeveless T-shirt that had long replaced the matching top. Yohji rarely wore pajamas to bed... they made him look cute and rumpled, and thoroughly wretched as he let out a short, sad cough. "There... now, into bed," Ken instructed, his arm sliding around Yohji's waist, fingers momentarily caressing a bared portion of his hip.

"Nn, Ken..." Yohji leaned into him, nuzzling his ear, too incoherent and shivery to remember he was mad. "That feels good..." Ken's fingers were warm, and soft. He didn't want to be by himself anymore. He didn't want to be angry.

Ken shook his head sadly. "Not now... you need to sleep..." Even so, his hands crept upward, beneath Yohji's shirt, fingers spanning that narrow waist and sliding gently up and down.

"No... Ken, c'mon..." Yohji wrapped his arms around Ken's neck even as he sat down on the bed again, leaning back into the pillows. His eyes shone over bright, moist and clouded.

"Later..." Ken whispered, catching his balance as Yohji tried to pull him down. It was endearing... Yohji always had time, even when sick with the flu. Even when he was supposed to be terribly angry with Ken. "Later," he repeated, catching Yohji's face in both hands and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Yohji acquiesced with a soft sigh, laying his aching head down and curling up into a ball as Ken drew the covers over him. He sniffled softly, squirming uncomfortably, unable to get warm. It felt strange to be in bed in the middle of the morning... but being off his feet wasn't so bad. For the first time, he truly appreciated his well-broken mattress, the softness cradling his aching body as he curled up against the cold. He was shivering for no reason.

"I'll go to the drug store and get you something for your cough," Ken said absently as he fetched another blanket from the closet and spread it over Yohji.

"Don't..." Yohji murmured. "...You gotta work... then you gotta get ready for tonight."

Ken shook his head. "I'll be fine. I've taken down targets after three nights of zero sleep. Tonight will be cake."

"'F you say so..." Yohji peered at Ken over the edges of the blankets.

"Close your eyes," Ken instructed, moving toward the door. "Get some rest and you'll feel much better."

"Nnnhaaaai..." Yohji murmured, turning his face into the pillow. He listened to Ken's footfalls on the carpet, heard his bedroom door shut with a soft snik, then waited for the rain to put him to sleep.

"And then he collapsed?"

Ken nodded grimly. "Yeah. His temperature was way up, so I got him into bed."

Omi scowled into the vase of lilies and snapdragons he was piecing together. "Did he take anything?"

"I got him aspirin and cough medicine at the drugstore." Ken looked somberly over at Omi's arrangement. "Leave that... it's after hours."

"I know it's after hours, Ken-kun," Omi bit out with no small amount of exasperation. "It's one of Yohji-kun's. He couldn't do it himself because he's sick. And he's sick because you two drove him out into the cold last night."

Ken opened his mouth to protest, then shut it and shook his head. "Omi..."

"Don't you dare tell me I'm wrong, Ken-kun. The way you yelled at him was just embarrassing. Nobody should be berated for something that isn't his fault. Is your soccer game more important than him?"

Ken looked away sullenly, raising a hand to bite anxiously at a hangnail.

"And you, Aya-kun."

The silent redhead looked up from his crossed-arm slouch in the corner of the flower shop.

"You shouldn't shout so loud when your bedroom door is open." Omi gave Aya a disappointed stare, watching the other man's jaw tighten and his eyes lower. "Everyone's entitled to some attention from their boyfriends. Without asking for it."

"Tch..." Aya looked away, then trudged over to the front door of the shop, opening it and checking the lock on the outside shutter.

"You're staying with him tonight, Aya-kun. You'd better make it up to him."

"Hn." Turning, he tossed Omi the shop keys and left up the back steps.

Entering the apartment, Aya broke into a jog, crossing the living room and taking the stairs two at a time. A cold, uncomfortable lump had begun to form in the back of his throat, to match the one in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't enjoyed spending so much time away from home on recon... And it was true, Ken deserved to have the free time allotted to him, but...

He had no right, truly, to blame Yohji for everything. And now he was sick - had been sick - and Aya had shoved him away. He felt like a heel. He had to tell him...

He pushed open the bedroom door, and stepped inside.

Aya stood in the open doorway, watching Yohji for several moments. The other man was curled up tightly, packing his body into as small a space as someone of his height could manage. Even with the drawn-up covers partially obscuring his face, Aya could see the sheen of sweat across Yohji's pale cheeks and forehead. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he lay a hand on Yohji's shoulder. "Hey..."

Yohji muttered something Aya didn't catch, emerging a bit from the covers without opening his eyes. One hand crept out from beneath the blankets, casting about until it found Aya's leg. One eye cracked open... as if satisfied by what he found, Yohji sighed and curled his body toward Aya's, arching himself around until his face was pressed into Aya's thigh. With a soft, wordless murmur, Yohji nuzzled against Aya's leg, closing his eyes again.

Aya shook his head, his expression soft despite himself. "Baka..." he said softly, sliding his hand down to rub Yohji's back. "I thought you were mad at me..."

"I am..." Yohji murmured, his voice muffled against Aya's leg. "But you're warm."

Aya made a soft, noncommittal noise, moving his hand in long, slow strokes up and down Yohji's blanket-covered back. "Would it help to apologize?"

Yohji shook his head.

"Hn..." Aya chewed his lip. "Well... I'm sorry anyway..."

Yohji muttered a faint response - Aya wasn't sure what it actually was. In fact, he wasn't sure if Yohji was still awake.

Either way, he steeled himself for a long night.

Time had an odd way of contorting itself when one was feverish. Yohji wasn't sure if he really slept... all he could recall were strange, feverish dreams, everything draped in a choking red fog...

And then there was Aya. Always there... hands cool and soothing against his skin, rubbing his back as coughing fits shook him awake, wiping the sweat from his skin as the fever and headache drove him back away from consciousness. There was another period of blackness, of strange sounds and sensations that surely couldn't be real. And Aya was still there, holding Yohji close and whispering non-words when the chills made him shiver even beneath the thick pile of blankets.

Again he drifted off... Some time later he was awakened by insistent hands, pulling him into a sitting position, tugging his shirt off over his head. Then came the bite of something cold and wet against his bare skin... his face, his arms, the back of his neck. He was too weak to protest... and after the initial shock it almost felt good. He didn't open his eyes... He could hear Aya's voice, as if through a tunnel, telling him his fever had broken. Ah. That's nice... he thought absently to himself, letting his head fall forward to Aya's shoulder, slumping against the other man's chest and inhaling his familiar scent. Finally, he fell asleep again.

He slept for what felt like a long time.

And then, Yohji awoke to music.

Precisely, it was his own aching head that woke him, pounding as it had been all night. But this time, there was something different to greet his wakefulness. Aya's gentle humming was soft even in the silence, in time with the slow movement of his hand on Yohji's hair, gently fingering the fine strands spread out across the pillow. Yohji smiled faintly, looking up at Aya even though the dim light was already hurting his eyes, and then shifted his head closer to Aya's hand with a soft sigh.

Aya blinked abruptly, looking down at Yohji. A faint, self-conscious blush stained his cheeks, and Yohji's smile widened, just a bit. "Don't stop..." he whispered. "I like your voice."

Aya opened his mouth, then shut it, at a loss for words. "...How do you feel?" he finally choked out.

"My head hurts," Yohji replied weakly. "Everything hurts."

"Wait here..." Aya got to his feet, his hand lingering a moment against Yohji's forehead before he pulled away to go into the bathroom. Yohji curled more tightly beneath the blankets, his hand going to his own forehead, feeling the slickness of a feverish sweat still on his skin. He pressed the back of his hand against his cheek, unnerved at how cold his hand felt.

Aya returned a moment later, with a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. "You're still warm... It's time for more pills."

Reluctantly, Yohji forced himself to sit up, his vision filling with black clouds as his head spun. A warm arm slid around his shoulders, and he leaned into Aya's chest as he took the pair of white tablets Aya handed him, downing them with a swallow from the glass he had to hold in both shaking hands.

"Finish it... you're dehydrated."

With a frown that made his head hurt even more, Yohji obediently finished the water, his stomach protesting the invasion of liquid with a roiling toss. Yohji was only too happy when Aya took the glass away, and he was able to lapse back against the warm, solid body that supported him.

Aya sat a moment, holding Yohji against him, letting him rest before starting to slide away. "I'll get you another blanket... Your fever's going down, but-"

"No-" Yohji grasped weakly at Aya's shirtfront, pulling him back. "I'm warm with you here. Can we stay like this?"

Aya blinked, then nodded, even though Yohji couldn't see. "Sure... we can stay like this." He shifted back against the pillows, sliding down to pull Yohji against his chest, settling him between his upraised knees. "Is that all right?"

"Mmm... yeah..." Yohji closed his eyes, giving his headache some relief, nuzzling against Aya's collarbone.

"Good." Hesitantly, Aya reached up to stroke Yohji's hair, then kissed the crown of his head as he wrapped his arms around him. "Go to sleep, then."

Yohji nodded, exhaustion immediately beginning to tug his consciousness away. "Aya..." he whispered.

"Hm?"

"Sing to me some more?"

Aya caught his breath uneasily. "Ahh... okay..." He began to hum again, periodically breaking into murmured words too soft for Yohji to make out.

"Aya...?"

"What?"

"Thank you..."

Aya shook his head. "Don't thank me. I don't deserve it."

Yohji just smiled and closed his eyes.

Friday

"I can't believe we got in a coerulea..." Yohji stared in awe at the orchid plant Omi was placing on his bedside table. "We could sell that for seven or eight-thousand yen, easy."

"It's all for you, Yohji-kun."

"You're so good to me, Omitchi... bringing me flowers when I'm sick." Yohji punctuated his sentence with a sniffle.

"It's to remind you that even though you're stuck up here in bed, there's still a shop full of flowers and overdue arrangements for you to take care of when you're better."

"Saa..."

Omi stepped back from the bed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "So, Aya-kun and I are heading out right after the shop closes to start tailing our targets. Is there anything you want me to have Ken-kun get for you before we go and get ready? He's going grocery shopping."

Yohji shook his head, sliding back down beneath the blankets, his empty stomach gurgling faintly in protest at his own nonchalance. "I don't need anything... I'm feeling much better." It was partly true, at least. The fever and chills had subsided a great deal. But he was still coughing, and his entire body still throbbed with a dull, rusty-jointed ache.

"You have a gift for exaggeration, Yohji-kun. But it won't work on me." Omi smiled, then moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "You don't look much better. Aya-kun gave me the full report of last night before he went to bed."

"Went to bed?"

Omi nodded. "He stayed awake with you all night long... He's got work to do tonight, so he's sleeping right now."

Yohji blinked, brows drawing in concern. "He'll be okay later, right?"

Omi nodded emphatically. "Of course!"

"Nn..." Yohji sighed. "I'm sorry I've been so much trouble..."

"Yohji-kun..." Omi leaned toward him, one arm encircling his blanket-covered shoulders. "Don't say that. None of this is your fault. Ken-kun and Aya-kun know that, too... despite what they say."

Yohji smiled weakly. "Thanks..."

The young man's hand briefly gripped his own. "Get some more sleep. Ken'll bring you something to eat later."

"Mm." Yohji rolled over, closing his eyes briefly. He was tired... the rain had stopped, and the open window blinds let warm bars of sunlight spread across the room. It was relaxing, and comfortable... Yohji felt like he could sleep for days. He'd slept most of that day already. Still, he cracked one eye open as Omi got up and moved to leave. "Be careful tonight. Both of you."

Omi smiled, and closed the door behind himself.

The sun had long since set when Yohji came to, congestion a rough rattle in his chest as he coughed himself awake. The bedside clock read 8:47pm. Yohji lay quietly in the darkness for a moment before reaching to turn on the lamp. The thermostat needed to be turned up... it was chilly. From downstairs, Yohji could hear the television.

Ken...

With a grunt and a sniffle, Yohji sat up, pain lancing through his back and shoulders. His very skin ached. Carefully he stood, swaying once and leaning hard against the bed to keep his feet. Slowly he stumbled over to the dresser, leaning to pull open the bottom drawer. The baggy black sweatshirt he dragged over his head provided a little relief against the unseasonable chill in the air, blocking the cold from his feverish skin. Even so, Yohji wrapped his arms around himself as he made his way to the door. Right now, there was somewhere else he wanted to be.

The squeaky stair halfway down was always a dead giveaway. Ken looked up from the television, his eyes widening. "Y-Yohji! You're awake!" Ken sat upright, pushing himself up against the couch armrest. "How do you feel?"

Yohji glared down at Ken... it was a weak glare, given that his face was pale and hollow and looked more pathetic than anything else. "Now you care?"

"Yohji..." Ken stood, gazing helplessly up at him. "Look, Yohji, I'm sorry..."

Yohji leaned against the banister, eyes narrowed.

"I was an ass. I know that..." Ken crossed over to him, mounting the first few stairs and reaching for Yohji's hands. "I should never have said the things I said..."

Yohji gave Ken a halfhearted pout, then came down the stairs to his level. "I got lonely up there by myself..."

Ken smiled, then, his dark eyes lighting up. "Then come down here."

Yohji let himself be led to the couch, sinking into the cushions where Ken urged him to sit down. "It's cold in here," he ventured, sniffling faintly and rubbing at his nose.

"A little, I guess." Ken gave Yohji's shoulder a squeeze and headed into the kitchen. "Are you hungry?" He called out. "I was going to bring you something up, but you were asleep."

Yohji considered for a moment. He was hungry, but the thought of actually eating anything was mildly nauseating. "Not really..."

"Well, have this, anyway." Ken's hand descended over the back of the couch, passing Yohji his own favorite mug, warm and steaming. Yohji clasped it in both hands, taking a deep breath of green tea vapor, the breath scratching briefly in his lungs before the moisture soothed the pain away. He took a careful sip, and a pleasant shiver ran down his spine as the hot liquid washed away the sick burn in his throat. Ken came around and sat back down next to him, taking a sip from his own mug. "I think your stomach can handle this, at least."

They sat that way in companionable silence, waiting for Yohji to get warm and watching the news on television.

"You want anything else?" Ken's voice was hesitant.

Yohji glanced over and shook his head before putting his mug down on the coffee table and leaning back in the couch to close his eyes.

"Okay..." Ken fell silent for moment. "You want to go back up to bed?"

Yohji was quiet. Then, he shook his head again. "I like it down here with you."

Ken smiled slightly, reaching out to grasp Yohji's shoulder. Yohji needed little further encouragement, sliding down to rest against Ken's chest, pressing close to the other man's warmth. Ken rested his cheek against Yohji's hair, reaching up with one hand to pull the folded throw blanket off the back of the couch, and spreading it out over both of them. Yohji let out a comfortable sigh, snuggling down beneath the blanket, Ken's breathing and heartbeat a comfortable counterpoint in his ear.

"Yohji... you know I love you, right?"

Yohji blinked, then smiled. "Yeah."

"'Cuz I don't really tell you enough..." Ken bit his lip, the uncomfortable, niggling guilt in the pit of his stomach flaring up for a moment.

"It's okay, Ken..." Yohji closed his eyes, Ken's warmth sinking into his own body, surrounding him, soothing him. "...I know."

Ken kissed the crown of Yohji's head. "Good."

And Yohji began to drift, the radiant heat of Ken's body warming the aches from his bones, the rhythm of his pulse a soporific remedy for his aching head. The last thought he could recall was that there really was no better remedy than this...

For the first time in two days, Yohji awoke in the early morning. He realized, after a moment's disorientation, that he was in his room again, and after another moment of fuzzy recollection remembered that Ken had taken him to bed around midnight. He had fallen asleep with the pleasant sensations of Ken's hands gathering the blankets close around him, and of Ken's warm body curled against his. He slept with his head tucked under Ken's chin, his arms wrapped around the other's waist... which was right where he still was.

And yet, there was another warmth, cradling him from behind. Yohji craned his head to catch a glimpse of red hair, then rolled carefully onto his back. Aya had joined them sometime during the night, and was now utterly unconscious, one arm bandaged and a bruise on his cheekbone, presumably acquired during the assassination the night before.

One violet eye cracked open. Sleep-flushed lips moved to form Yohji's name, and Aya's hand came up to gently stroke Yohji's cheek before brushing his forehead. "How do you-" Aya broke off to turn his head and cough slightly. He paused, brows lowering for a moment before he seemed to shake himself and ignore it. "How do you feel?"

"Nnn..." Ken stirred against Yohji, stretching and sinking down to stretch out against Yohji's side. "Man, was I sleeping with my mouth open? My throat is on fire."

Ken and Yohji glanced at each other.

Yohji simply smiled.

"I feel... just fine."

The End

Weiss Kreuz © Koyasu Takehito, Project Weiss