“I am in the prime of my life”
“Uh huh”
“I am”, Suga insists, trying to clear his throat and wipe his running nose as discreetly as possible. He doesn’t succeed in the least.
“ Uh huh ”, Daichi replies, only half-listening, busy digging through the medicine cabinet in their bathroom, “hey, where’s the thermometer?”
“Next to the cotton balls”, Suga answers reflexively, muttering a curse under his breath as Daichi buries his head in the cabinet, a grin spreading across his face.
It seems that never knowing where the things in his own home are located comes in handy sometimes. He’s clearly conditioned Suga into shouting out directions for him whenever he asks for the kitchen scissors or the vinegar bottle or, in a particularly embarrassing instance, the glasses that had been perched on his face.
“Open up”, he orders as he approaches Suga’s bed, pressing the power button on the thermometer. Being roommates for so many months probably means that Daichi’s been trained into enabling Suga too, an equal exchange.
“Well”, Suga begins, sitting up against the headboard, “it all started when I was ten and- blegh ”
Case in point, Daichi had known that the second he gave him an opening, Suga would leap at the chance to be annoying for the sake of it, letting him stick the thermometer in his mouth without struggle.
Suga goes almost cross-eyed glaring up at him as he waits for the beep.
“You are a very bad man”, he informs Daichi, “a cruel, cruel, bad man”
“No fever”, Daichi confirms, tuning out the complaints with practiced ease, “it could still be the flu though. We’ll only know if you start throwing up or something”
He pauses. If he could help it, Suga wouldn’t be throwing up at all, but since it’s looking pretty much inevitable, he should probably minimize the damage to their shared living space. Suga probably wouldn’t be able to make a run for it in time. Just the littlest bit of movement seems to have sapped him of his strength, his eyelids drooping like he’s going to fall asleep where he’s sitting up.
“I can’t believe the kids betrayed me like this”, Suga says, clearing his throat again, “eight year olds are so cruel”
“I thought I was the cruel one?”
A sick Sugawara Koushi is not really funny, but he is a little bit entertaining. Daichi’s had years to get to know him, every shade. Everything from the way his hands shake when he’s nervous to the way he gets so pouty and clingy when he’s taken down by a bug.
In sickness and in health , he thinks to himself, and that’s not really funny either, this big, giant, idiotic, unrequited crush he’s harbouring on his best friend who he eats breakfast with every morning, but it’s hard not to feel a burst of affection when Suga is blinking up at him sleepily, clearly staying awake through willpower alone. Even though he’s a total wreck right now, even though Daichi is definitely going to catch whatever bug he’d brought back from the school, he still makes Daichi’s heart beat double time just by looking his way.
“You’re cruel, they’re cruel, the whole universe is cruel”, Suga declares, slipping under the covers again. The lights have been dimmed, but he should probably just switch them off if they’re hurting his head, “I hate kids”
“You don’t mean that. You love your kids”, he chides. It had been just another arrow through his heart, the way Suga loved his classroom and the way they adored him back tenfold. He’s heard Suga recount how some of the kids refused to be picked up from school at the end of the day, bawling that they’d rather stay back and continue doing crafts and reading time with their favourite teacher, more times than he can count. Of all the people to love from afar, he’d gone and picked the warmest person he’s ever known, and then moved in with him to boot.
“I’d love them more if I didn’t fall sick every time they did”, Suga grumbles. His voice is hoarser than it was last night. It’s clearly getting worse.
“Count yourself lucky that you didn’t bring back head lice or something”, Daichi weighs his options, “do you want a waste paper basket or for me to stay?”
Suga cracks his eyes open, glaring, “Daichi. You can’t skip work for me”
“I can get someone to cover for me, and I have some sick days I haven’t used yet”
“Sick days you’ll probably have to use once you catch whatever this is”, Suga points out sensibly, “you know you shouldn’t skip work. There's probably tons of murders that need solving”
“I mean, I hope not”, Daichi says, dithering. It’s stupid, but he knows how much Suga hates being left alone when he’s sick. It would suck for him to be in pain and have to deal with it himself.
“What?” Suga groans as he remains rooted to his spot by his bedside, “I’ll be fine. I’m probably just going to sleep through the day”
Daichi moves the waste basket from where it’s stowed under Suga’s study desk, placing it next to where he’s laying in bed. It’ll be fine. He’ll be fine. Suga’s obviously been sick before and he hasn’t died yet. Still, the thought of him throwing up with no one to rub his back or get him water is kind of sad. And Daichi wants to do it. Maybe that’s what it comes down to. The domesticity of it, that he wants Suga to feel better. That he wants to be the reason Suga feels better.
“Oh my god”, Suga sighs, clearly unimpressed by the way he’s hovering, “come here”
Daichi obeys. Suga leans to the side and for a second, Daichi worries that he’s about to have sick splattered across his feet, but all he does is pull open his bedside drawer and yank out a sticker sheet.
“Here”
Suga slaps a gold star on his arm haphazardly, “If you go to work and don’t spend all your time at the station worrying about me, you can keep this. If you don’t, then I take it back”
Daichi can’t conceal his laughter, adjusting the sticker so it won't fall off immediately, “You’re so-”
“Incredible? Amazing?” Suga interjects, eyes fluttering shut again, “Sleepy? Why yes, I am, thank you for noticing. Please turn the lights off when you leave”
So that’s his dismissal then. But if Suga’s sure he can handle this, then Daichi can trust him enough to go to work with a clear head. He fiddles with the sticker on his arm, smiling down at it.
He isn’t going to dwell on whether or not Suga is feeling better, but he is going to think of how adorable he is, the way time with him feels toffee-sweet, and he thinks that’s an acceptable workaround to Suga’s parameters.
He has to rush to make it to the station on time, but it’s fine. He’s determined enough to deal with most anything today. After all, he has a sticker to earn.
