A Not so Sickfic

Extra: Catching Colds

If you were looking for the fluffy, fever induced, typical sicfic, this 3 pt extra is for you xD If you don't want to read feverish Boruto acting like a love struck derpus in front of a seemingly calm and increasingly flustered Sarada, it's not too late to turn back now.

. . .

The next day, Boruto wondered if he made a mistake and fell asleep in a sauna. If Shinki lined the inside of his throat with sand to play a prank on him. If there was some sort of weight attached to one side of his head and an ice cube shoved up the other nostril.

But instead of cursing his circumstances, he rolled onto his side and dragged his hand out of the covers. Sarada... He gently brought his hand to his cheek, the spot her lips touched suddenly tingling, his heart doing a tango in his chest. Was the other one on the lips? While I was asleep?

The night before, he laid in bed for hours, staring at the wall, pulse racing much too fast for his limp body to be at peace. Everything felt fuzzy. His limbs. His vision. His memory... But the moment he tried to close his eyes and get the much needed rest his body craved, he imagined it. Over and over and over again.

Sarada laying next to him. Her fingers gripping his shirt as she slept peacefully, mumbling his name. The soft texture of her raven black hair as it fell through his tired fingers. The brush of her lips against his cheek.

His imagination took it a step further, daydreaming about her kissing him. Playing with his hair. Giggling at his sleeping face.

After three hours of staring at the glow of the digital clock in the dark room, he tried to imitate the feelings in attempt to provide relief for his insomnia. But holding his pillow in his arms wasn't a substitute for her. His hair was a completely different texture than hers was. And no matter what way he crumpled his t-shirt into his hands, it was all meaningless. He just lay there, chest aching, eyes unblinking.

At some point, he managed to drift off to sleep.

But now, he was awake. And along with newfound sickness, the ache was seeping back into his chest like butter into pancakes... Pancakes. There was a faint smell of pancakes.

And then a knock on his door.

"Onii-Chan? Breakfast is ready. Are you coming downstairs?"

Boruto coughed to hide his embarrassment over his inner thoughts as if Himawari could somehow see through his brain like she could see through walls. "Not right now Hima... I'm feeling kinda sick."

"Ah! I'll go tell mama." She cracked open the door. "You look like you have a bad fever," she said, running up and putting her small hand on his forehead. "Your face is really really red... Maybe you should go to the hospital."

"I'm fine," he murmured, tucking himself under the blankets. "Just ask mom for some medicine... And maybe some toast."

His little sister padded out of the room with concern, but he only coughed into the sheets. Dang it... Should I take that as a confession? Or not? He burred his face into his pillow. Sarada... Why are you so confusing...

Catching her cold so quickly only made him think about it more. He brought the side of his index finger to his lips and closed his eyes, heartrate slowly picking up. No no no, there's no way.

His heart was pounding now, along with his headache, warmth coursing through his body with his fever, embarrassment covering his face. Stupid... Stupid stupid stupid...

The moment his mother walked in, her worried voice asking him several questions, he mumbled the words, "I'm fine... Sorry, I think it was nothing after all."