Sneezefic by Magic Toes 11

Tsukiyono Omi rarely ever got sick, but when he did, the fever- induced dreams he'd have were unbelievable -- or rather, altogether too believable for comfort.

Take his most recent nightmares, for example. Over the past two days, Omi's sweaty, sheet-twisting dreams were filled with thoughts of their last assignment. He and his fellow teammate in Weiss, Kudou Yohji, had run point, while Fujimiya Aya had taken to direct assault. It was a touchy mission, one man down, as Hidaka Ken had been sidelined with the beginnings of a nasty cold. Without Ken at their side, Omi and Yohji had been unprepared for a ground battle. They'd been ambushed, and the fight had been worse than Omi had ever let on, to Yohji, or to Ken in post-mission recollection.

He'd only sustained a few bruises to his face, the only outward signs of the struggle. But before Yohji had managed to subdue Omi's attacker, the younger boy had been grappled, pinned, forced into a tight, stuffy corner closet of the warehouse. Shoved into pitch darkness, claustrophobic confinement. He'd hated enclosed spaces ever since he was a child, and this was almost more than he could handle without panicking. Spiders in his hair, the chittering of teeth and the scrape of a small rodent's claws across his hands. And all he could do was pound at the door, until someone -- he couldn't tell if it was Yohji or his attacker once again -- pounded just as hard back...

The terrific pounding jarred him from a light doze, a pitch-black dream, and Omi sat up with a jerk. Disoriented, his hands slid to where his belt -- and his crossbow darts -- should have been; finding these items absent, he circled his hand into a light fist and, dizzyingly, clambered to his feet. The dull headache, the stuffiness in his head, both of those could wait.

"Who's there?" he softly demanded, voice hoarse.

But instead of an intruder, Omi was greeted with an exasperated grumble. "Omi... Open the door already! My hands are full."

"Ken-kun?" Omi rubbed first at his eyes, then at his nose with the back of a fist, returning to reality. No, he wasn't in danger, nor was he imprisoned within the enemy warehouse. Rather, he was back at the small second story room above the flower shop, surrounded by a messy floor and the books he'd been trying so hard to read, lest he get behind in his schoolwork. But the fever and the headache had made it far too difficult to get more than ten or fifteen minutes of homework done at a time. Papers scattered across the covers and his bed stand, where he'd attempted to get at least a little work done.

Omi opened the door to his bedroom and blinked. Standing before him was a rather disheveled Ken, arms filled to overflowing with several bouquets of flowers, vases, and a plastic bag of takeout food balanced beneath his chin, practically held in his teeth. Ken shook his unruly bangs from his eyes and grinned. "Morning, sunshine."

"Ken-kun, come in," Omi murmured, giving another rub at his eyes and stepping aside.

"Here, take something. Unless you want me to spill your lunch." Ken was careful to skirt the random books scattered across the floor as he entered. Despite the teasing from the other boys about his 'clumsiness,' Ken was in fact one of the more graceful members of the team, and even though his arms were full, there was no danger that he might actually trip.

Omi took the plastic bag that Ken had balanced beneath his chin, catching a whiff of soup and spice from within. "Lunch? You brought lunch? What time is it, anyway?"

Ken shrugged, settling the vases on the stand beside Omi's bed and beginning to unwrap the tissue paper surrounding the flowers. Freesia, Omi's favorite. "Probably about lunchtime. You haven't eaten anything yet, have you?"

Sniffling, Omi pushed aside some of the papers that had scattered atop his bed and crawled beneath the covers, setting the bag of food to the side. "No, I haven't. I haven't been all that hungry. Aren't you supposed to be at work?" Omi had called out sick earlier that morning, leaving the remaining three Weiss boys to tend to the store alone on a Saturday, one of the busiest days of the week. Even with four boys on the floor, the store was often overrun, and with Omi unwell, none of the others could likely afford to take time off, even for a cigarette.

"I'm on break. Yohji is babysitting the girls. Aya can cope."

"Is it busy?"

"Yeah, but Yohji's having a ball. Aya, as I said, can and will cope." Nonetheless, Ken grinned -- he was rarely one to hold grudges, even when he'd been perturbed with Aya for sidelining him on the previous mission. He joked, but he harbored no real ill will.

Omi's eyes trailed to the vast array of magenta and purple-colored flowers that Ken had begun to neatly arrange on his bedstand. There were at least three bouquets, all thick with more freesia flowers than Omi was used to seeing, even days when the flowershop got its weekly shipments in. "Ken-kun, who are those from?" he asked, hoping he sounded casual.

Ken snorted. "Courtesy of your fan club, who missed you so dearly after you called out sick."

"Hmm?" Omi blinked, rubbing a finger beneath his nose. He sniffled again, for a moment feeling a familiar, maddening tickle, and he gasped in breath, hand wavering before his face. "Huh... enh..." Yet just as his head tilted back, the prickling within his nose just as swiftly disappeared, and he rubbed his nose with a snuffle.

"That crazy girl that spends all her allowance at the shop on you. Ouka-chan," Ken explained, gently separating the stalks of freesia so they fanned out. With a smirk, Ken leaned over and ruffled Omi's hair. "What, did you think they were from me?"

His stomach and heart sinking slightly, Omi murmured, "I didn't know what to think." He rubbed his nose once more, before reaching across with a sudden movement to snatch a tissue from the box on his bedstand. That tickle was suddenly back in his nose with a vengeance, and this time it was there to stay. Burying his face in the tissue, he jerked forward, papers scattering as he let out a harsh pair of sneezes. "Huh... ccshhuh! Hahh... Chhussh! Ahh. Itai..." he moaned.

"You haven't developed a sudden allergy to freesia, have you? Or maybe you're allergic to Ouka-chan." Ken gathered up several of the papers that had scattered, putting them aside and flopping upon a free portion of the bed.

Omi shook his head, carefully folding the tissue before placing it back beneath his nose. His eyes half-shut, breath coming in soft hitches. "Not at all, Ken-kun. I've just been... beh... hah- CCHHUUH! Ugh, sneezing all morning," he finished, wiping his nose and tossing the tissue into the wastebasket beside the bed.

"Bless you, by the way." Ken reached across for the plastic bag of food, withdrawing the two containers of ramen and disposable chopsticks. A mischievous grin crossed his face, and he flipped the sealed plastic container towards Omi, saying, "Think fast."

"Ack! Ken-kun!" Omi protested, fumbling the carton before managing to steady it in his hands. A light sigh, and he stared down at the noodle-filled soup that Ken had brought him. It was a sweet gesture, but Omi's appetite had fled several days ago with the onset of his cold.

Ken opened the lid to his carryout ramen and dug in with a large bite of noodles. "Go on, eat," he said, mumbling around a mouthful of food. "You'll feel much better on a full stomach."

Omi let out another small sigh, unwrapping his chopsticks and snapping them down the center. "I'm really not that hungry."

"It's shrimp flavored. Your favorite," Ken pointed out.

"Mou... If I have to." Opening his own container of ramen, Omi buried his chopsticks into the hot noodles and lifted a small bite to his lips. Immediately, his eyes widened, and he somehow managed to scramble the container onto the bed stand before he doubled over in a fit of coughing.

Ken set his chopsticks aside and gently rubbed Omi's back. "Ne, are you okay?"

"H... hot!" Omi spluttered, hand waving in front of his mouth. His impossibly large eyes shimmered with tears. "How... how much chili did they put in this?"

"I asked them to make it hot. Spicy foods are supposed to help when you've got a cold. At least, that's what Yohji told me."

"And you listened to him?" Omi gasped softly and ran a finger beneath his nose, sniffling hard. If nothing else, that one mouthful of the spicy noodles had made his nose run all the more. "Seriously, I appreciate the thought, Ken-kun, but I told you -- I'm not hungry. Even if I were, I wouldn't be able to eat that."

Sighing faintly, Ken picked up his food again and returned to slurping his noodles. "I just can't win today, can I?"

Omi paused, tilting his head and blinking as he stared at Ken. "What do you mean?"

Ken smiled wryly, slurping a particularly long noodle between his lips. He swallowed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and shrugged. "You don't like Ouka-chan's flowers, you don't like the ramen. I'm apparently not having much luck trying to cheer you up."

"Huh?" Omi said with a surprised blink. He leaned forward, placing a hand on Ken's back. "Ken-kun, I'm sorry. It's not that you aren't cheering me up. I'm just a little cranky, feeling so sick. That's all. It isn't your fault."

"Yeah?" Ken took another bite thick with ramen noodles before setting his own carton aside.

"You don't have to go through any trouble to cheer me up, Ken-kun. Just having you here is enough." Omi's cheeks flushed faintly as he ran his fingertips shyly up Ken's spine.

Ken turned, catching Omi's wrist in his hand and sliding their fingers together. "You're not angry?"

"Of course not."

"Good. Because I hate to lose." Leaning in, Ken slid his free arm around Omi's waist, pulling him so close their noses rubbed together.

Omi closed his eyes, drawing a shaky breath. The sensation of Ken's nose against his own had brought on another tickle, and he struggled to quell it even as Ken's lips drew closer to his own. But instead, the maddening twinge grew, expanded, threatened to overwhelm. "Anou..." he whispered. "Ken-kun, I -- hh..." In a single movement, he jerked free from Ken's grip and covered his nose with both hands. "Hah-csshuhh! Unh... Heh-chuuuh! Hh.. chisshuh!"

Ken reached across the other boy, grabbing a tissue from the bedstand, and handed it to him. "Are you alright?"

Omi buried his face in the tissue, eyes half-shut, his breath hitching against the relentless tickle. "I think... one more... hh... heh-CHUUUH!" His body jerked forward at the harsh sneeze, bending him double, hair spilling across his eyes. For a few moments, he was unable to right himself again as he caught his breath.

"Wow," Ken said, eyes wide in amazement that such a loud sneeze could come from such a slender body. "You're really sick there, Omi."

"Nice of you to notice," said Omi, the faintest hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Sumimasen, could you get me...?" Ken followed Omi's gesture towards the tissue box and handed him another, which the younger boy immediately brought to his face and gave his nose a strong blow.

"Poor Omi. Poor sick Omi." Ken grinned that wry grin of his again and ruffled Omi's already rumpled hair.

"I'm very sorry, Ken-kun..." Flushing miserably, Omi turned away, tossing the tissue into the wastebasket beside his bed.

"Hey." Ken's voice was soft, and he looped his arm around Omi's waist. "I'm glad you didn't sneeze all over me. Seriously, I was frightened. You could break china with that sneeze of yours."

Omi leaned back against the crook of Ken's shoulder with a weary, amused smile. "This has been my morning. Fine way to spend a Saturday, neh?"

Ken smirked. "I told you so."

"Told me what?" Omi asked with a blink.

Again, Ken ran his fingers through Omi's hair in a rough attempt to tame it, but only managing to muss it more. "That you'd catch my cold if you got too close."

Omi managed to smile past the pinkness in his cheeks, the headache that throbbed at his temples. "That's right. And I said you'd have to take care of me if I did end up catching it."

"Then you," Ken said, suddenly leaping from the bed and pulling the blankets fast atop Omi's chest, "are going to take a nap. Get your rest."

Omi couldn't help but laugh. "Ken-kun!"

"No protesting, Omi! Doctor's orders." With an impish grin, Ken swiftly tucked the ends of the blanket around Omi's body, and then pushed upon the boy's shoulder until he slid to lay completely down. "And don't even think of sneaking in any homework once I'm gone."

"You're leaving?" Omi ran his hand beneath his nose with a light sniffle.

Ken shrugged. "I can only take so long a break before Aya comes up to skin me alive. Hell, he might even skin us both alive. Me for taking a break, and you for distracting me," he added with a wink.

"I see." Omi smiled softly, unable to suppress the blush that rose to his cheeks. "Thank you for coming to see me, Ken-kun."

"I can come by later on once my shift is over. If you wanted, and you were feeling up to it," he said, hands moving into his pockets.

"I'd like that. Just ... no ramen this time, please."

"Of course." Ken stood there a moment more, slouched, mildly uncomfortable, before he leaned in and gave Omi a quick peck on the forehead. "Feel better, okay?"

"I'll try, Ken-kun. I'll try."

As Ken shut the door behind him, Omi snuggled fast beneath the sheets, eyes fixing on his bed stand, with the pink and purple flowers that weren't from Ken, and the uneaten carton of ramen that was. He'd clean up the remains of a vastly uneaten lunch later; for now, Omi was content to do as the 'doctor' ordered, curling up for some sleep. He was still so congested, and weary from his body's struggle to stave off its illness.

And maybe, this time around his dreams would be all the more pleasant.

Weiss doesn't belong to me. But I'd gladly wrestle Koyasu Takehito for it. In lime jello, of course. Mrowr.