Archive of Our Own

It was well past any reasonable hour when Sanemi let himself into his sixth floor apartment and dumped most of what he was carrying by the door. He toed his shoes off, shuffled into his slippers, started towards the kitchen and then turned back to move his pile of crap out of easy-tripping range. That done, he shuffled into the kitchen, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. The kitchen was clean and tidy, smelling faintly of whatever had been made for dinner, and when he opened the fridge there was a bottled meal replacement shake front and center on the middle shelf. He took it out and cracked it open, pausing to read the sticky note adhered to it before gulping the shake down.

Not sure I want to know what made you THIS late. Packed up leftovers for lunch tomorrow. Don’t listen to Sorai, he’s been fed. -Z ♡

Sanemi snorted at the note and the perfect timing of the large black cat that came to twine hopefully around his ankles.

“Nice try, furball,” he chuckled, turning to rinse his bottle out in the sink and leave it to dry for later recycling. He leaned in for a couple swallows from the tap, then bent to scoop Sorai up under his arm like a particularly furry parcel. The cat mewed and did his best to knead happily at Sanemi’s hip.

Sanemi deposited Sorai on the cat tree in the corner of the living room, padding quietly into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash up by the dim light of a novelty nightlight he had yet to successfully remove from the apartment. At least it had been relegated to the bathroom, where he only had to endure it on late nights like this and the occasional particularly early morning. He walked into the bedroom yawning and still rubbing in the last bit of his moisturizer, kicked his slacks into the hamper in the corner, and set to very carefully crawling under the bedclothes.

It was a blessing that the other human occupant of the bed was a deep sleeper, because while Sanemi was being as careful as possible, he missed the second black cat on the bed while trying to avoid the elegant golden tabby and nonsensically long seal-point cats also ranged across his side of the bed. Urara hissed and swatted at him, doing no damage with her claws capped but still very much insulted by being nearly sat upon. Her displeasure thus communicated, she marched over to the other side of the bed and hopped off, presumably to go harass her brother in the living room.

Sanemi sighed heavily and finished squirming his way under and around the remaining cats, scooting up behind his partner and tucking against him with a contented little sound. He was rewarded, when he slid an arm over, with an answering murmur, all sleepy pleasure, and dozed off with the smell of citrus shampoo in his nose.

———————————

Sanemi woke with a cat treading lovingly on his back and a rotten headache. The headache was only made worse when he dared crack an eye open and got early-morning light right into his brain. He felt entirely justified in groaning and pushing his face into the pillow.

“Hey you,” a familiar voice hummed. “You’ve got a passenger.”

“Mmnnngk.”

The weight of the cat was lifted away, replaced by a hand sliding up his bare back and into the hair at the back of his head. Sanemi groaned again, this time in quiet pleasure as neatly trimmed nails scratched up his scalp.

Then the lovely sensation stopped and the hand withdrew.

“…are you feeling okay?”

He pushed himself up on one arm and looked over at his companion, squinting until his eyes adjusted to the light. “Why?”

“You feel really warm.”

“Just had a cat sittin’ on me,” Sanemi grunted, letting his eyes close when a hand reached in to feel his forehead. He wasn’t particularly fond of having his face grabbed or handled, but this, at least, was a gentle, familiar hand on a clear mission.

“I think you might have a fever. Stay put, I’ll go get the thermometer.”

“I do not,” Sanemi objected, forcing himself up into a sitting position and pawing groggily at his face. He wasn’t entirely sure what time it was, but it was far too close to when he’d crawled into bed for him to want to be awake.

“I wanna check, okay?”

“Mmmgg…..you’re gonna be late for class.”

“I’ve got time!”

There was some shuffling and banging of drawers for a moment, and some determined muttering before the shadow of his well-meaning but entirely too paranoid boyfriend reappeared on the doorway.

“Couldn’t find the oral one,” he murmured, padding back to the bed. “Forehead’ll have to do.”

“Too bad….I know how much you like oral,” Sanemi hummed. “Ow!”

“You’re a horny old pervert sometimes, you know that? Hold still.”

Sanemi obeyed, sitting patiently while the thermometer was rolled over his forehead.

“….oh. Maybe it’s broken…”

“….what did it say?” Sanemi asked.

“I’ll go replace the batteries real quick. Or dig up the oral one- I think it might actually be in the kitchen, you know, from when Genya was here after his surgery? Be right back!”

Sanemi tried to grab him, but he was out of reach too fast. Grumbling, Sanemi pushed the rest of the bedclothes back and swung his legs over the side. He was awake now, and far too awake to go back to sleep, so he might as well get up and accomplish something with his time.

Then he stood up. The room went for a whirl around him and he sat back down in a hurry, head throbbing, back and neck tightening with the need to steady himself. He must have made a noise too, because a moment later, Zenitsu came hurrying back through the bedroom door with batteries in one hand and two thermometers in the other.

“Hey, what is it? What happened? Are you okay?”

“Just got up too fast,” Sanemi grunted, squeezing his eyes shut. The mattress dipped beside him as Zenitsu settled at his side, and a cool hand came to rest on his back.

“You really are warmer than you ought to be,” Zenitsu said, voice uncharacteristically quiet. “Let me check your temp again, okay? You might’ve picked something up at that thing.”

Sanemi grumbled, but allowed the blond to put the probe of the thermometer under his tongue all the same. He waited, eyes still closed, while it took a reading, the beep of its findings coinciding with Zenitsu swearing quietly.

“Mmmh?”

“Kinda high,” the blond said, showing him the reading. Sanemi winced. It was high. His head just hurt too much to really consider it beyond the observation.

“Ugh. I had a cold when I first got there, but it went away pretty quick…” He thought he had successfully drowned it in hot tea, mao-to and going to bed early- not like he wanted to go out drinking with most of the people at teacher training events anyway- and the symptoms had gone away after the second night.

“You went even though you were sick?”

“I wore a mask. And a cold isn’t the end of the world,” Sanemi muttered. He leaned into Zenitsu’s shoulder for a minute, then withdrew when the pressure shift made his head throb right into his ear. Fuck. “Might’ve turned into a sinus infection…”

Zenitsu frowned and gently jostled him upright, reaching to carefully feel his face. Sanemi would normally have bitten him for it, either in annoyance or in play, but this time he just leaned into the cool touch and closed his eyes. Nothing hurt the way it did when he’d developed another sinus infection, a side-effect of getting his nose broken a couple of times combined with the same fucked up genetic lottery that had seen Genya actually having surgery to try and sort out whatever was wrong with his sinuses.

“Nothing’s sore?”

“No, not to the touch. ’S early, though.”

“Well at least you’ve got the day off,” Zenitsu sighed. “You’ll actually rest, right?”

“Much as I can,” Sanemi promised, which didn’t mean he’d be doing much of it at all…if he could help it.

“Okay, good. I might be able to come home for lunch, I don’t have another lecture until-”

“Go. To. Class.”

“Am I not allowed to be worried about you? Is that how we’re doing things now?”

“You’re going to be late, dipshit, go.”

Zenitsu got up and flounced out of the room. Sanemi stayed where he was for a few minutes, listening to him banging around in the kitchen and the chorus of demanding cat noises. Noises continued for a moment before Zenitsu popped back in.

“I put the coffee pot on, okay? You should eat something!”

“Yeah yeah, stop fussin’.”

“Take care of yourself,” Zenitsu shot back. “See you later!”

“Take good notes.”

“Love you too, geez!”

Once the front door had closed, Sanemi ran his hands through his hair with a low groan. He didn’t like admitting defeat, but he really didn’t feel right. The headache was downright murder. Still, he had things to do and there was coffee brewing, so he would…get a start on things.

On his feet, caffeinated, medicated and about to be fed, Sanemi felt a little more himself. He’d been greeted by a stampede of cats as he’d entered the kitchen, followed by coordinated howling for additional gooshy food.

“I know you’ve all eaten,” he informed his audience, leaning into the counter and sipping his coffee while his breakfast revolved in the microwave. Sorai and Urara twined around his calves as affectionately as any cats ever had, squeaking lovingly. “Even you two. Scat.”

They all objected loudly, but after some enthusiastic waving of his left foot, the cats retreated to the warm spot he’d left in the bedclothes. Floor clear of feline obstacles, Sanemi collected his breakfast from the microwave, taking it and his coffee to the couch. He stretched out on it with a heavy sigh, only sitting up as much as was necessary to eat and drink without risk of choking himself. The painkillers ought to be kicking in soon, he could get to work checking emails, catching up on the grading Obanai had dropped off for him, doing laundry and fussing around the household chores Zenitsu always left for the weekend.

He got laundry going and started on his grading before the headache caught up with him and he ended up with his forehead on the table, eyes closed while he tried to ground himself against the mounting pain. It was bad, worse than he’d had in recent memory, but he didn’t think it was a migraine. It didn’t have that particular pressure, nor the similar pressure of a sinus headache…and he knew those all too well. He’d already had two sinus infections since school had started in the fall, and would probably have another before warmer weather brought allergies and all the other delights of spring

Sanemi stayed face down on the table until the buzzer went on his laundry and he had to heave himself upright…and then grab at the tabletop as the room went for a spin around him. He clung, expecting the headrush to dissipate after a few moments, but it didn’t. Instead, it continued, and when he made to sit back down, he almost missed the chair.

“Fuck,” he groaned into the tabletop.

It took him half an hour to get himself sorted out, get to the laundry, get it moved into the dryer, and then to just sit on the floor with his back against the empty washing machine, head throbbing, ears ringing and stomach rolling until he could crawl to the couch and drag himself onto it.

This wasn’t good. This couldn’t be good. He had work to do. He needed to get things taken care of, preferably before Zenitsu came home, but the very idea of getting back on his feet made his head spin and his stomach clench. He would need to take clothes out of the dryer later, he hadn’t made the bed, he had a pile of assignments to grade….and he couldn’t get to any of it right now. All he could do was lie on the couch and swear at the ceiling.

The vertigo eased up in time for Sanemi to get the laundry finished and the bed made, but the headache doubled down, making any work on his computer impossible. He settled for throwing a few things into the slow cooker while he chugged a protein shake for lunch, then retreating to the bedroom with a lap desk and the homework he needed to get through. He loathed doing work in the bedroom, let alone on the bed, but the adjustable reading lights made it easier for him to read, as he could reduce the glare off the paper.

Sanemi recognized that thinking of light bouncing off of a sheet of paper as ‘glare’ was probably not a good sign. He bundled that together with the headache and the ear ache and the vertigo, stamped it ‘for later review’ and filed it away to be dealt with when he had the time. So…never.

And then he fell asleep over the grading anyway.

———————————

“I’m home! Sanemi? Where are…..babies, where’s daddy? Go find daddy.”

The cats went running into the bedroom with Zenitsu on their heels. Sanemi was still in bed, slumped before his lap desk, pen in hand, head fallen back against the headboard. He was asleep.

“Oh….Sanemi?” Zenitsu padded over to the bed and reached out to stroke Sanemi’s cheek, smiling fondly when the older man made a sleepy sound and nuzzled into the touch. “Hey. Really feeling that bad, huh?”

“Hmmngg?” Sanemi blinked slowly. “Z’ntsu?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Your fever’s still high…did you take the next dose of medicine after lunch?”

Sanemi considered this. Had he? He didn’t think he had.

“No….completely forgot.” Sanemi scrubbed a hand over his face and tried to get himself together, but his head ached and the room was tilting and he felt awful. “Came in here to work and just…mmh…”

“Yeah, you never work in here,” Zenitsu murmured. “Must’ve really needed the sleep.”

“No, I didn’t get half the shit done I needed to do,” Sanemi grumbled.

“You needed to rest.”

Sanemi scowled, starting to list everything he still had to do, and cut off as his stomach flipped over. “Oh fuck…”

“Sanemi? Wh-”

He bailed out of the bed, knocking the desk and his paperwork aside in his hurry, getting briefly tangled in bedclothes before both feet hit the floor and he could bolt towards the bathroom. He was uncoordinated and unsteady, head spinning, but he made it after bouncing off a wall and two doorways- he’d hit hard enough that he knew he was going to bruise later. He crashed to the floor in a graceless heap, already retching on the way down, and vomit splattered over the toilet lid before he could shove it up and out of the way. The rest of it, at least, made it into the bowl.

Once down, he clung to the toilet for dear life, even though the actual heaving had eased off fairly quickly. What hadn’t slowed down was the vertigo, and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing it to end.

Footsteps on the tile. Hands on his hair, his cheek. A familiar voice, raised in barely-restrained panic.

“Sanemi? Hey…hey, wake up!”

“’M not asleep,” he grunted. “Just have my eyes closed.”

“You didn’t pass out, right?” Zenitsu checked nervously, hands brushing Sanemi’s hair back and out of his face. It felt good, soothing and gentle- despite his worry, Zenitsu’s hands were steady as ever. “Not even for a minute?”

“No,” Sanemi promised. “Just…just dizzy.”

“How dizzy? You…Sanemi you ran into the wall.”

“And two doorways,” Sanemi murmured, keeping his eyes closed. Zenitsu coaxed him to sit back, leaning against the blond’s legs while there was movement around Sanemi. A cold, wet cloth started wiping at his face and neck. He grimaced, turning away from it, and was surprised when Zenitsu grabbed his chin and held him still for the cleaning.

“Don’t you make that face at me, you’re a mess. Puke on your chin, puke on your neck….barely made it, huh?”

“Y-yeah,” Sanemi mumbled around the cloth in his face. “Came on fast.”

“You’re sure you haven’t been pukey all day?”

Sanemi tried and failed to give a little nod- the hold Zenitsu had on his chin was quite firm. “Been kind of queasy? But not like I was going to puke, I promise.”

Why was he promising, anyway? It wasn’t like Zenitsu was going to punish him for lying, and he wasn’t lying anyway. He’d been feeling sick to his stomach all day, sure, but he hadn’t been concerned about actually throwing up until right before it had happened.

“So you’re getting worse,” Zenitsu murmured quietly. “Ready to try getting up?”

“’S fine….just….flu or something,” he mumbled. “Just…give me a minute.”

“Oh honey.” Zenitsu rubbed down his spine with a free hand. “I’m sorry. Can you get up?”

Sanemi nodded faintly and braced his hands against the toilet for a brace, heaving himself upright with as much confidence as he could muster. The bathroom tilted around him, not content to pick an axis and stay with that, and he transferred his hold to the sink as soon as he could stumble that way. He rinsed his mouth, first with water, then with diluted mouthwash, and washed his face. The splashing of water against his skin didn’t help ground him as much as he’d been hoping, but it did a little….enough for him to strip his wet shirt off and throw it at the hamper before returning to the bed.

The homework he’d been grading was scattered on the floor, but none of it appeared to have been stepped on. Sanemi knelt down to gather it up, and when he stood, dropped it again as the room tilted sharply. He grabbed for the bed frame, thankful he and Zenitsu had a Western-style bed and frame with a headboard, or else he would have ended up face down in the mattress.

“Oh-kay, you’re done,” Zenitsu declared. “I’m officially taking over this operation."

“What operation?” Sanemi wheezed, waiting for the room to right itself.

“The whole thing. Groceries, laundry, cleaning. Everything.”

“You can’t-”

“I can and I will. You’re in no condition to be doing anything except resting.”

“I’ll be fine, Zen, just…gimme a minute.”

“I literally gave you a minute in the bathroom, and that was just a few minutes ago. You couldn’t make it from there to here without problems,” Zenitsu objected. “You’re not okay, Sanemi.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It is!”

“It’s not!”

“How about I knock your hand off that headboard, huh? What’ll happen then?”

Sanemi was fairly sure he knew what would happen- he would end up falling, possibly throwing up again though he wasn’t sure if he had anything left. Probably did…he hadn’t puked up enough for him to be confident in just dry heaves.

Zenitsu gave a satisfied huff and began collecting Sanemi’s papers, stacking them together into a pile and tapping to straighten the edges before setting them aside and going after the upended lap desk….then he dealt with the scattered pens, and finally the paperclips that had ended up going every which way in the commotion. Sanemi, for his part, stayed right where he was and squeezed his eyes shut again.

He didn’t notice when Zenitsu left the bedroom.

When the room finally leveled out and Sanemi’s head wasn’t spinning anymore, he made his way carefully into the living area. Zenitsu was making noise near the bathroom, probably cleaning up Sanemi’s mess…the very thought made his face hot with shame; he was a grown-ass man and shouldn’t need his twinky younger boyfriend to clean up after him for any reason. He wanted to go help, to chase Zenitsu out and do the work himself, but he was shaky and unsteady and his head throbbed, so he made his way to the couch instead. Three cats graciously made room for him on it, and he just picked Sorai up and draped the cat around his neck in the vague hope that the extra heat might help with the headache. If nothing else, the purring was doing a decent job of drowning out the ringing in his ears.

He dozed off again.

————————————

The next time Sanemi woke, the sun had set and the lights were on. The cats had moved on, he was cold, his headache was, if at all possible, worse, and he felt overwhelmingly sick to his stomach. Rather than do anything constructive about these issues, he groaned and reached up to pull the blanket from the back of the couch over his head, only to find it missing. Groping around to try and find it revealed that it was draped over him already…and he was still cold.

Well fuck. That couldn’t be a good sign.

Sanemi struggled upright, gritting his teeth at the way the couch moved under him, and looked around for Zenitsu. Not on the couch. Not in the kitchen. The bedroom light wasn’t on. So where was he?

A muffled thumping sound came from the door into the washroom, followed by a little swearing and then Zenitsu emerged with a laundry basket in his arms. He looked over towards the couch with an expression that told Sanemi he’d been expecting him to still be asleep, and an uncharacteristically soft smile spread over his face when he saw Sanemi sitting up.

“Hey, handsome,” he said softly, padding over to Sanemi at once. He put the laundry at the other end of the couch and plopped down at his partner’s side. “How do you feel?”

Sanemi very briefly considered lying, or at least making things sound better than they were, but his head throbbed and after the day he’d had, he just wasn’t feeling up to faking it anymore.

“….like shit,” he admitted, and let his head rest on Zenitsu’s shoulder. He closed his eyes while the blond put an arm around him and kissed his temple. “How was class?”

“Fine. Hard to pay attention today.” Zenitsu tested Sanemi’s forehead with the inside of his wrist and sighed. “Your fever’s up.”

“Cold,” Sanemi complained. “Better not be planning on getting up any time soon.”

“I was doing laundry and stuff, but it can wait a bit,” Zenitsu sighed. “You need to eat, too…”

“MmmmI put something in the crock pot earlier.”

“Yeah, I had some for dinner- really nice to come back to that, thank you.”

Sanemi hummed quietly and pushed his face into Zenitsu’s neck, desperate for comfort now that it was being offered so freely. In response, Zenitsu raked his fingers through Sanemi’s hair and cuddled him as close as he could when they sat side by side, tugging the blanket back up around him with a little hum.

“I think you should go to the walk-in clinic tomorrow,” Zenitsu murmured against his temple. “This is moving really fast and I don’t like it.”

“’S fine,” Sanemi mumbled. “I’ll be alright.”

“Nooooo, you need to see a doctor. Your fever has been higher every time I’ve checked today, you’re unsteady on your feet, you threw up….”

“It’s probably a virus and they can’t do anything about that,” Sanemi insisted. “It’s been one day, Zen. I’ll be fine.”

Zenitsu made huffy noises at him and held him a little tighter.

“I don’t like it,” he complained.

“If it gets much worse tomorrow, we can call Kocho, alright? See what she says.”

“Fiiiiiiine….”

Sanemi couldn’t stomach the idea of eating the curry he’d started in the slow cooker earlier in the day, but he ate some rice and, after prompting from Zenitsu, mixed in a soft-scrambled egg for some protein. Then, loaded up on medication for the headache and the fever, he allowed his boyfriend to coax him into a bath.

“I can wash myself,” Sanemi muttered as he settled on a stool in the washroom and Zenitsu took the shower head from him.

“I know. But I want to do it,” Zenitsu hummed. “Eyes closed.”

Sanemi growled at him, but closed his eyes, melting under the warmth of the water and the hands working shampoo into his hair. It was the simplest of luxuries, but the way a good scalp massage made his bones turn to liquid heat was a special kind of bliss. Zenitsu was an exceptionally handsy creature, and he claimed his love language was physical touch. Whatever that meant, it resulted in a lot of touching, petting and massages and nails working through his hair while they watched movies until Sanemi was so relaxed that gravity seemed to pull twice as hard on him as on anything else. And now, as exhausted and horrible as he felt, Zenitsu’s hands on him, working through his hair and over his aching body, made him feel…safe as well as taken care of. It wasn’t something he was used to feeling without making it happen himself, and definitely not from someone younger and smaller than him. (Genya, both his brother and larger than him, to say nothing of being intimately familiar with Sanemi’s safety hangups, didn’t count).

Zenitsu didn’t necessarily make him feel safe-safe- he just didn’t have the physical size, strength or skill for that-, but he did make Sanemi feel like he could be vulnerable around him, which went hand in hand with feeling safe in their home. And at times like this, Sanemi felt it more acutely than ever.

“I never really got to welcome you home,” Zenitsu remarked, scrubbing Sanemi’s back. “So welcome home, handsome.”

“Thanks, sparky,” Sanemi sighed, letting his head hang while Zenitsu gave him an exceptionally thorough scrubbing. After a week of hotel showers and inadequate washcloths, it was absolute heaven to have his partner going at him like a housewife taking steel wool to a stovetop. Zenitsu was a ridiculously gentle man overall, but in the bath, he scrubbed like he’d been personally offended. Sanemi’s skin had never been particularly soft, but being regularly pinned and aggressively exfoliated by someone who could have given a Korean bathhouse attendant a run for their money had done wonders.

“You’re such a cat,” Zenitsu sighed, moving around to put Sanemi’s foot up on his knee.

“I’ll be whatever you want if you keep that up,” Sanemi murmured. “’S fuckin’ good…”

Despite this, Sanemi ended up in the bath anyway, soaking in blissfully hot water that did a lot for the chill he’d been feeling since waking up that afternoon. More importantly, he was leaning against Zenitsu, who was doing things with his hands that just made what remained of Sanemi’s brain turn to mush.

“You should start using those hand exercisers again,” Zenitsu hummed, gently stretching Sanemi’s fingers back towards his wrist. “You’ve been spending too much time writing lately.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sanemi mumbled. He relaxed against the back of the tub, content to drowse with Zenitsu in his lap. The bath wasn’t really big enough for two people, even when Zenitsu was’t the biggest guy, but they made it work, settling Zenitsu between Sanemi’s legs and tucking close together. Bath time was quiet cuddle time, and had been since they had moved in together. “Gonna try getting back on a regular gym schedule again in the spring…”

“Mmmm…..I look forward to that.”

“Of course you do, you’re a horny little shit.”

“Look, I can’t help it if you showing up all hot and sweaty and worked up gets me hot as hell!”

“Maybe not, but I can still harass you over it. You blush so hard it’s a miracle you can even get it up, Zen.”

“I’m a multitasker.”

“Yeah you sure a- aaaooowww, no no no staaahhhp.”

Zenitsu looked over his shoulder to give Sanemi an arch look, holding for a moment before he released the pinch he’d had fastened in the web between Sanemi’s thumb and the rest of his fingers.

“Wanna try that again?”

“Yes, you’re a great multitasker,” Sanemi said quickly. “Absolutely fantastic, just lemme gooooo…”

Zenitsu did, lifting Sanemi’s hand to his lips and kissing it as an apology. “That’s better,” he hummed. “I’m allowed to find my boyfriend sexy.”

“Yeah, not arguing that, I just….just…nhhhgod….”

Any attempt at making words went out the window as Zenitsu went from kissing Sanemi’s hand to sucking on his fingers. Sanemi squirmed, too tired to get hard but so sensitive from the fever and thorough scrubbing that his whole body lit up like a fireworks display.

“Nnhahh……b-baby, what....ah…”

Zenitsu hummed at him, tongue working around and between his fingers, holding Sanemi’s arm to keep him in place. Not that it was really needed…Sanemi couldn’t get out of the bath without dumping Zenitsu anyway, and there was nowhere else for his arm to really go in the confines of the tub. It was a special kind of torture.

When Zenitsu released his hand, Sanemi was trembling all over, breathing in little pants as he tried to get his brain working again. The blond made a pleased little huffing sound and relaxed against him as though he hadn’t just effectively scrambled his boyfriend’s brain into complete incoherence. For awhile, at least, Sanemi could relax and ignore how generally awful he’d been feeling.

—————————————

The next morning, Sanemi tried to get up, tried to sit back down when his head spun dangerously, and ended up on his hands and knees just outside the bedroom door, puking up what remained of the previous night’s supper. Every heave made his head and ear hurt worse, stabbing pain through his skull, and when he could finally rock back into a more-or-less seated position, his ear was ringing so loud he struggled to hear Zenitsu’s worried voice next to him.

“Sanemi? Sanemi can you hear me?”

“I-i…yeah,” Sanemi croaked. He covered his face with his hands and just breathed, trying to ground himself. Zenitsu rubbed his back. After a few minutes, he felt collected enough to try standing.

“You’re really sick, baby,” Zenitsu said quietly. “You need to see a doctor.”

There was no point in trying to argue, Sanemi knew. Not now. Not when he hadn’t even been able to get out of bed without disaster…when he could feel his body shaking with chills despite knowing the apartment was a reasonable temperature.

“Okay. I’ll call Kocho.”

What else was he going to do? He needed to be back at work on Monday. Zenitsu had to be back at the university on Monday. He couldn’t afford to just try and continue powering through his symptoms. And honestly, he was willing to do just about anything if it might improve things a bit.

“You want to go back to the bed, or move to the couch?” Zenitsu asked, putting an arm around him while he just stood still and got his bearings.

“Gotta clean up first.” Sanemi scrubbed his forearm over his lips and grimaced. “Made a fuckin’ mess…”

“No, I’m going to clean and you are going to settle. Couch? Or bed?”

“…couch,” Sanemi said quietly. There was obviously no point in arguing, and he didn’t have the energy for it anyway.

“Okay. Let’s get you cleaned up and settled there. You can call Kocho and I’ll clean things up.”

He just nodded and let Zenitsu accompany him to the couch, where he curled in on himself and shivered until Zenitsu supplied blanket and cats. Sanemi made a small, tired noise, tucking Ginkgo against his aching abdomen as she was less likely to try and make biscuits on him. She made a little squeaking noise, licked his side, and curled against him with a contented chirp. Phone in hand, Sanemi considered how best to put things, then selected Kanae’s contact.

“Hello? Sanemi?”

“G’morning, Kanae,” he sighed. “Sorry, I know it’s kinda early.”

Kanae laughed. “Not that early, and it’s never too early for you. What is it? One of your siblings? How can I help?”

He’d known Kanae since childhood, picking his younger siblings up at the same afterschool center she picked hers up from, and they had been only one stop away on the same train home. They’d gone to the same middle school, then the same high school, and Kanae had gamely dated Sanemi for the several weeks it had taken him to be entirely certain he was definitely, unquestionably gay. He’d introduced Zenitsu to her before he’d broached the topic of his relationship with his colleagues, wanting an outside perspective before presenting the issue of his being romantically and physically involved with a former student. She wasn’t quite as close to him as Obanai, but she was a very close second. When she offered help, she would provide to the extent of her ability to do so and then some.

“….I got sick coming back from a work training,” he admitted. “Fever keeps getting higher and I feel like absolute dogshit. I promised Zenitsu I’d call you if things were worse this morning, and…”

“And they’re worse,” she surmised. “How much worse?”

“Vertigo was so bad this morning I puked before I could make it to the bathroom.”

“Oh dear…you poor thing, that sounds awful. Other symptoms?”

Sanemi dutifully listed them off for her, listening to her scribbling them down on the other end of the line. At some point, Zenitsu padded over and cuddled up against him.

“Do you know what your temperature is right now?” Kanae asked.

“No, but Zen’s here.” Sanemi pawed at the side of his head, where something was tickling down below his ear. “Babe? Thermometer?” He pawed some more, wincing at the pain accompanying the contact, then paused, feeling wetness on his skin. “…um.”

“What is it?” Kanae and Zenitsu asked together.

Sanemi looked at his hand, frowning at the cloudy fluid streaked across a couple of his fingers. “I….think there’s something leaking out of my ear?”

Kanae made a little hissing sound.

“Leaking out of your ear?” Zenitsu squawked, and gave a little hiss of apology when Sanemi winced at the volume. “Sorry, sorry. I just-”

“Thermometer?” Sanemi repeated. “Please.”

Zenitsu handed it over, then reached for a tissue from the box on the coffee table and carefully wiped up the smear of liquid under Sanemi’s ear while Sanemi tucked the thermometer probe under his tongue. It didn’t take long to beep a result at him.

“…..uh…it’s 39.4, Kanae,” Sanemi said carefully, inspecting the thermometer screen. He heard her swearing away from the phone and winced. “Should I-”

“Clinic,” she said sharply. “Now. Go to mine. I’ll call ahead and let Shinobu know, she’s working an early shift- she’ll get things ready for you so you spend less time in the waiting room, alright?”

Sanemi sighed heavily. “Yeah, alright. Thanks.”

“I’ll see you there.”

“….why?”

“Bye!”

Sanemi put the phone down and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Kanae says I need to go to the clinic. Do you want to drive, or am I taking the train?” He knew driving himself would be a bad idea, with how badly his head was spinning. He also knew Zenitsu hated driving, and especially hated driving his car, but it was that or take the train, which sounded horrible at that moment.

“I’ll drive,” he said at once. “Are you ready to get up and going?”

“Gotta get dressed first.”

“And then we go.”

“Yeah...”

———————————

This was how Sanemi found himself sitting in a small exam room at the clinic Kanae and her sister worked for, sitting on the table with Zenitsu at his side, hunching over to dry heave into the emesis bag he’d been handed upon entry. Shinobu had walked them back and sternly reminded him to make use of it if he needed it while she took his vitals- he had insisted it wouldn’t be necessary, that he’d be fine….then he’d barely managed a couple of minutes before he was swallowing hard against the rising nausea and Zenitsu was handing the bag over.

It wasn’t Kanae who came in to check him out, but the man had clearly been speaking to her and Shinobu because he was prepared for most of the arguments Sanemi tried. In short order, Sanemi had been swabbed, examined and diagnosed with a nasty inner ear infection.

“Given how high your fever is and the speed with which the symptoms have progressed, I suspect this one is bacterial. I’m prescribing an antibiotic for that, as well as a couple of other things for the vertigo and nerve inflammation- which Nurse Kocho is sending to your preferred pharmacy branch. You will need to take several days off of work for the medications to get to work, and then-”

“Take time off work? Not happening.”

“It’s not a suggestion, Mister Shinazugawa. It will take a couple of days for the antibiotics to start making an impact, and the treatment for the vertigo will also take some time…even if your fever has reduced significantly in that time, you will not be fit to go to work. I understand that you are a teacher, correct?”

“Yes, but-”

“Which means you need to be on your feet and attentive for most or all of your work day. If you were going to spend the day at a desk somewhere, I might be more comfortable with you working, but as it stands, you will not be teaching on Monday.”

Sanemi started to argue, ready to defend his capability to work, but stopped as the door opened on the tail of a cheerful knock and Kanae poked her head in.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, Doctor Nishimura, but I just wanted to check in and let you know that Sanemi-kun’s work note has been sent ahead to the Academy.”

The doctor beamed. “Thank you, Doctor Kocho, that is very helpful- you hardly needed to come in on your day off…I’m sure Nurse Kocho could have handled it.”

“She could have, but I’ll be meeting with Principal Ubuyashiki this afternoon anyway. With your permission, Sanemi, I’ll give her any additional information she might need to prepare for your absence.” Kanae’s smile was sweet and genuine and Sanemi glared daggers at her anyway. “Since I know you won’t want to bother her on the weekend.”

“…thanks,” Sanemi ground out. “Anything else?”

“Nope! Feel better, hm? Shinobu will probably see you out. Take care of him, Zeni-kun!”

“Er….will do?” Zenitsu managed. He was still reeling from being taken back with Sanemi when his partner had been checked in, sat down in the exam room like a concerned spouse instead of a boyfriend barely out of high school.

“I know you will,” Kanae chirped, and ducked back out, leaving the three men alone. Doctor Nishimura was the first to recover, offering the two younger men a shrug.

“Always enthusiastic, our Doctor Kocho. You know each other?”

“Childhood friends,” Sanemi muttered. “Considering rescinding that about now.”

“She has your best interests in mind, I’m sure. Do you have any questions for me? Anything I can help with?”

“There’s no diet concerns, right?” Zenitsu checked. “Just whatever he’s comfortable eating with the nausea?”

“No grapefruit- it can interfere with the medication for the vertigo. Plenty of fluids, but otherwise no dietary advisories. Just make sure he is eating, hm?”

“Can do,” Zenitsu promised. “And I can always deploy the family card if I need to.”

“Always good to have a backup plan,” Doctor Nishimura chuckled. “Good for you.”

Sanemi muttered quietly, but didn’t actually object. Zenitsu wouldn’t call his family unless it was necessary, and even then he would call Genya for support long before working up the nerve to call his mother. Genya in particular would know how not to try handling him, should it come down to Zenitsu needing support.

On the way home, Sanemi waited in the passenger seat while Zenitsu ran into the pharmacy, actually falling into a doze while the blond hurried down the street a couple of doors to pick up some other supplies- Sanemi wasn’t sure what or where, he’d barely registered it when Zenitsu told him he was going at all. When Zenitsu returned, Sanemi roused enough to mumble contentedly at the hand carding through his hair, then went back to sleep.

Getting up and back into the apartment posed a bit of a problem. Zenitsu suggested going around to the building’s elevator, but Sanemi didn’t want to go around to that part of the building, nor did he want to take the elevator at all- it always smelled strange to him, he hated being in a windowless box and the mere thought of the weightless upward movement made him feel a little queasier than he cared to be. He would just have to deal with the five flights of stairs.

He regretted the stairs.

He tried to convince Zenitsu to just head up without him, get whatever groceries he’d bought inside while Sanemi himself took it slow, but Zenitsu refused. He had even tried to get the blond to go up with the groceries, drop things off and come back, but that met the same resistance. In the end, they made their slow, unsteady way up each flight, pausing whenever the spinning became too much or the universe tilted around Sanemi. He white-knuckled the handrail and forged on, pushing harder than he really should have because the stairwell was cold and he had a powerful need to be on his couch with his boyfriend, his cats, and every blanket he owned.

Once inside, Sanemi kicked his shoes off, shrugged out of his jacket, and collapsed on the couch with a groan, pulling a pillow over his face in the vain hope that it might be able to smother the increasing feeling of unease in his stomach.

“I’ll put these things away and then get your meds ready for you, okay?” Zenitsu called over his shoulder, heading for the kitchen with bags in hand. “Babe?”

“Mnngg…”

“Ooooh….that bad, huh?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’ll be right there. Hang on a minute.”

Zenitsu moved around in the kitchen, putting things away in a rapid series of opening and closing doors and drawers, while Sanemi drew himself into a miserable ball and panted to try and settle the rising sense of panic that accompanied the slowly building nausea. Then there was a warm body pressing up against him, hands tugging the pillow away, carding through his hair, rubbing over his shoulders and sides in long, smooth strokes.

“Hey, no, there’s no way that’s helping.”

“Mnngk.”

“Not giving it back. You need to breathe more than you need to smother yourself.”

“Nooooooo.”

“Come on, sit up a bit,” the blond grunted, putting his shoulder into pushing Sanemi’s rolled-up self into a more upright position.

“Zenitsu,” Sanemi croaked, swallowing back suddenly thick, sour saliva. “I-”

He didn’t even get to finish the sentence. Zenitsu was already moving, pushing at Sanemi’s knees to get him to unroll himself before shoving a bowl into Sanemi’s hands. He vaguely registered that it was one from the set of metal ones Kyojuro had given him as a housewarming gift, and thus would be fine being boil washed and bleached within an inch of its existence before he was too busy throwing up to think anymore.

“It’s okay.” Zenitsu murmured, rubbing his back as he heaved. “You’re okay.”

Sanemi did not feel okay in the slightest, but the steady stream of quiet words helped ground him. Once he’d finished heaving up his breakfast, he spat and let his head hang for a minute, panting. He could feel his pulse in his temples and his ear throbbed in time with it. The hand supporting his forehead felt like the only solid thing in the world.

“Here. Rinse your mouth.”

Where the glass of water had come from, Sanemi had no idea, but he rinsed and spat as instructed, then kept the glass to sip a little in hope of soothing his throat.

“Done? Can I go rinse this out?”

“Uh-huh.”

“When I come back, we’re talking food and meds.”

In fact, they did more than talk about it- Zenitsu bullied him into poking around in the kitchen until he found something that appealed at the moment, which ended up being a spoonful of peanut butter, half a slice of untoasted bread and some decaf green tea….Zenitsu had a lot to say on his choice of snack, and none of it was in favor. Still, it was enough for Sanemi to get the assorted medications down before trying to address his grading again.

He made it all of ten minutes before the headache, exhaustion, and the body heat of all four cats dragged him back down into sleep. As he drifted off, he was vaguely aware of Zenitsu making quietly domestic sounds around the apartment.

———————————

The rest of the day was taken up with a lot of napping. Sanemi woke periodically, usually because of some noise Zenitsu or one of the cats had made, to find his partner industriously attending to what seemed like every household chore Sanemi had had on his to-do list for the next several months.

Once, Sanemi woke to the smell of cleaning products and found Zenitsu mopping around the couch, steadily working from the far side of the main room back towards the front door and washroom. Blearily, he peered over the back of the couch to find their mismatched collection of rugs hanging over the balcony railing, with the enormous clips Sanemi used to keep a stray wind from dragging any off the rails actually in use, despite the fact that Zenitsu always said they were silly.

Another time, he found every travel mug, tumbler and coffee cup they owned lined up on the kitchen counter, apparently all soaking before getting a good scrubbing, though Zenitsu was nowhere to be seen at that point. Judging by the noise coming from the washroom, he was deep cleaning the bath, a chore he hated.

Some time that afternoon, there was egg drop soup with the gingery heat that told him Zenitsu had made it himself and onigiri with the spicy salmon filling Zenitsu hated but the best of which could be bought at the shop two blocks away. And tea. And more medication. Sanemi wasn’t sure what time it was, only that it was later than he’d thought if he was being medicated again.

In the late afternoon, when sunlight reflecting off the windows across the street turned the living room orange and gold with deep purple shadows, Sanemi woke to find Zenitsu and what looked like most of the contents of the closet near the genkan spread across the floor, as well as a scattering of things he was sure had come from their bedroom closet. Judging by the pile of hangars and the pairs of shoes lined up on the drop cloth Sanemi kept for when he needed to work on his bicycle, this was some kind of cleaning and consolidating effort…which made sense, because Sanemi had been meaning to get all the coats and sweaters and random shit out of that closet for nearly a year, intending to go through his portion and then hold each of Zenitsu’s items up for a rousing game of ‘keep or donate’. What he could see of the donation bin he’d optimistically put in the corner of the genkan (but which Zenitsu had moved up by the diving wall for the kitchen) had only items that belonged to Zenitsu, so clearly he was going to be on the receiving end of ‘keep or donate’ at some point in the near future.

Sanemi woke again after dark to find that his headache had improved somewhat and he needed to pee so badly it was almost painful. He heaved himself up off the couch, clinging to the arm and then the back of it to brace against dizziness. This too seemed to be lessened, though not enough to make getting across the apartment much easier- he just didn’t feel like puking up a lung in the process.

He didn’t have the energy to remain on his feet and aim, so he sat to use the toilet and contemplated the changes he could see around him- the floor tiles were clean and the rug had been fluffed up, and it looked like the bowl of the light fixture had been taken down and emptied of the most recent collection of dead bugs that always ended up in it. At the sink, the mirror shone and there were no soap or toothpaste traces around the faucet. As he made his careful way back out towards his nest on the couch, he noted that the washer was open, smelling faintly of the lemon pods he used to deep clean it now and then. The dryer hummed quietly on a delicates cycle.

Zenitsu was waiting for him in the kitchen, the overhead light making his hair glow golden from where he sat on the little island Sanemi had built himself with the blessing of their landlord. The smile he greeted Sanemi with was softer than usual as he stretched his arms and legs out in a silent demand to be hugged. Sanemi was all too happy to shuffle over and lean into the embrace, huffing out a tired sigh as Zenitsu wrapped all four limbs around him at once. He smelled like honey and oranges and only very faintly of bleach, so he’d found time to shower while Sanemi had slept the day away.

“Hi,” Zenitsu murmured, kissing his cheek. His heels settled against the backs of Sanemi’s thighs, keeping him in place while the blond leaned back a little so he could pepper the rest of Sanemi’s face with tiny little kisses that Sanemi had no hope of defending against. Not that he wanted to…the simple, playful affection was a bastion of normalcy in a day that had gone to shit as soon as he’d woken up. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like dogshit,” Sanemi sighed, closing his eyes to bask in the continued rain of kisses.

“No better at all?”

“Less of a headache? Got across the place without wanting to puke too…”

“Good. Any improvement is good.” Zenitsu pressed a chaste, closed-mouth kiss to his lips before shifting to press their foreheads together. “There’s clean sheets on the bed. Do you want to shower after dinner?”

“You’ve been busy,” Sanemi noted, leaning into him.

“Had to do something to keep you from getting up and trying to do chores,” Zenitsu muttered. One of his hands rubbed slowly up and down the back of Sanemi’s neck and head, knuckles applying just enough pressure to make some of the tension there start to ease up. Sanemi made a shivery little noise of relief.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he murmured, relaxing into the touch. “Needed this…”

“You should trust me to take care of things a little more.”

“I know, I just-”

“Don’t tell me. Just…try? Please?”

Sanemi was quiet for a minute, considering this. His relationship with Zenitsu, outside of the romantic aspect, was fundamentally different from the ones he had with other important people in his life. His mother had needed him to shoulder whatever he could to keep their household intact, both before and after his father’s death. Genya had needed the same when he was small, and even more physical protection once he’d gotten old enough to start pushing back against their father, and as he’d grown up he’d forced Sanemi to yield to him, taking his independence centimeter by centimeter of hard-won victories. Kanae hadn’t needed near as much, when her parents had died…just advice and support and some practical guidance concerning household maintenance and business Sanemi had already gotten experience in. Obanai just needed someone to spend time with who was neither as exuberant as his foster brothers (bless Kyojuro’s enormous squishy heart, but he could do with some serious volume control and Senjuro was just too much younger) nor inclined to stare at or question his scars.

With Zenitsu, though…having a lover…having a partner, someone he shared his heart, his bed, and his body with…that was different. A partnership was meant to be a combination of them both. A sharing of burdens and boons. Working together.

He hadn’t been allowing that. Not where it came to the things that he identified, purposefully or not, as tasks that proved self sufficiency and independence. Zenitsu had his things around the place, of course he did, but from the start of their cohabitation, Sanemi had done the bulk of the work caring for their living space, allowing Zenitsu to help him sometime but generally doing it all himself. Which was definitely not how things were supposed to be done. It was just what he had always had to do.

“…yeah,” he said quietly, tipping his head so he could nuzzle into the size of Zenitsu’s neck. The blond gave a ticklish squeak and reflexively squeezed all four limbs around him, a warm and comforting pressure at his waist and shoulders. “Yeah, I can do that.”