ReiSaru Week

Day Four- Fluffy

ReiSaru- Fluffy

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Sneezing hard, Fushimi groans in annoyance, curling up under the soft, overheated bedsheets, hiding from the light of his bedroom. It hurts his head, and the smells over the room, the sheets, their clothes... they all make him feel pukey again, and his nose is sore and leaking. He'd been sent home from work early in the morning by a worried Munakata. Now, though, Fushimi is thanking the Gods above that his boyfriend is so positively stubborn, refusing to allow him to stay in the office all day. He'd puked for what felt like hours, dry heaving over a bucket he'd set up by his bed for another ten afterwards. His abdomen feels tight and sore, his throat burning and aching, and his lips chapped with mild dehydration, and from the almost constant vomit from before.

Drinking only makes him puke even more. Whatever he would even try to drink, would come back up later in a brothy, disgusting mess of stomach acids. By now, Fushimi can't tell what time it is, everything seems so much longer when you're sick, and is much too exhausted to move, and grab his phone to check.

Being sick is such fucking bullshit.

He feels awful, fucking over his boss, who doubles as a worried boyfriend, just because he feels a little ill... he wants to be with Reisi, helping him with whatever he needs... he wants to be held by Reisi.

While sick, the young man always feels like a small child again... he blames it on his lack of actual childhood, because, with Munakata, Saru always feels safe and warm... protected, even happy... it makes the raven revert a bit, back to an immature, whiny state, especially when he's puking out his own fucking guts and crying.

With a soft, weak whine, Saru cuddles in deep, face stuffed into pillows, his body covered in multiple thick layers of fuzzy blankets. He still has a faint chill, arms and legs covered in goosebumps, even if the heat in the room is turned high and his body drowning in blankets. He's freezing to death, and he's in pain, and he's only growing more and more miserable every second.

In his cold, sick, and enraged misery, the young man slowly falls asleep, a deep, dark, feverish dream crushing down on him.

When he wakes again, he's warm, and his thin body is no longer throbbing and aching, head feeling much less fuzzy and drowsy than when he'd passed out. Blue orbs flickering open, gaze sleepy and hazy, Saru let's out a weakly confused moan, wiggling a tiny bit. There's a soft sloshing, making him frown as his eyes adjust. His confusion only deepens at the sight of his water filled bathtub. Then, there's a gentle, comforting chuckle, that makes Fushimi's shoulders relax, every last bit of tension escaping him. "Good morning Sleeping Beauty... you were freezing cold when I got home, sorry if I scared you, dearest." Reisi whispers, gently pulling the shorter back against his chest.

It clicks completely in Fushimi's mind, where him and Reisi are. They're in the bath tub, Reisi's toned arms hugging him around the waist, and the room is hot with steam. Flushing brightly as the realization finally hits him, Fushimi's fly to cover his face, embarrassment consuming him quickly. "Oh my god Munakata, perv! Why the tub?!" He yelps, having a bit of trouble speaking. His voice is rough and scratchy, throat tingling and protesting at the sounds.

"Calm down, precious boy... it's okay..." Reisi whispers soothingly, petting his lover's hair. "You smelt disgusting, you were cold, and I had to clean our sheets... this was just the easiest." He explains, voice soft. "Do you feel better?"

Fushimi hesitates, squirming a bit more, before nodding in response to the question. He feels weak, and his muscles are burning, but he no longer feels like loosing his entire lunch all over himself every few seconds. "I feel... okay." Saru offers.

With that, Reisi nods, rising out of the tub slowly, letting Fushimi lean back aga8nstthe porcelain tiled wall, kissing his forehead. "Okay, my dearest! You can get out whenever you're ready... I love you so much." Reisi states, kissing the top of his boyfriend's head again as he wraps himself in a towel, laying another over the sink for Saru to use later. He strolls from the room quickly and with ease, Fushimi watching him leave with a small, said smile.

He stays in the tub for awhile, until a warm, yummy smell starts to fill his nose, reminding him that he hasn't eaten anything for a long time, what must me 24 hours by now, stomach growling almost angrily. Saruhiko rises from the tub, not bothering to drain it as he moves to dry his slim body off with a fluffy, soft purple towel, before he slides on an old, warm houseboat and ties it, shuffling out of the bathroom. Reisi's by the stove, dressed, already spooning out a brothy soup for the younger. His guess is chicken noodle. "I didn't even know you could cook." Saruhiko teases gently.

Munakata smiles back with tender love, completely unbiased as he motions for Saruhiko to sit at their table. He does so without question or hesitation. "Seri made it, actually!" Reisi smiles, bringing the bowl to Fushimi, setting it in front of him before rushing off to to pour a glass of ginger ale (to settle the stomach). "We were all very worried about you... you scared me, honestly..."

The older looks sad and, just as he'd said, quite scared, sitting down slowly across from his lover, taking his hand gently. "Fushimi, you know I care about you very deeply. Yes?" Reisi asks gently. With a slow, curious nod, Saru starts to eat, the warm soup easily soothing his stomach and throat.

"Good... now, if this ever happens again, you call me right away... you don't even need to speak, I'll come right home... I love you so much, Saruhiko... I want to take care of you when you're in a situation like today's. So, let me?" Munakata whispers gently, eyes soft and loving, making the younger's chest seize up, heart running wild. "Okay Munakata... I love you too... a lot." The younger whispers, breathless, leaning over to peck Reisi's soft lips quickly.

The kiss is reciprocated happily, making Reisi grin impishly as his eyes go lidded. "You, my dear boy... taste like puke."