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Wakatoshi Ushijima is a tank of a man.
Everybody knows it. It only takes one look at the hunk of mass. He’s been an athlete his entire life and never once is he out of top-condition—until today. Dun dun dun…
Toshi’s got a cold.
“I’m fine,” he maintains stubbornly, but he’s obviously not. It’s classic symptoms: runny nose, cough, mild fever. Though it doesn’t seem too serious, it’s obvious that he needs bed rest. But he’s never gotten a bug in his life (or so he claims), and this can’t be the start.
“You’ve got to call in sick!” you insisted exasperatedly for the millionth time, following him around the house like a fretful NPC.
“I said I’m okay.” You could tell he was trying to keep his usual deadpan voice, but he was so nasally he sounded like an entirely different person. Your heart ached to hear it, but you were mostly upset that the damn blockhead wouldn’t listen to you.
“You can’t play like this. What if you collapse or something? Or what if you pass it on to your teammates? What then, huh?”
“I won’t, because I am not sick.” He plopped his large hand down onto your head, making you jump. “Thank you for worrying.”
“You’re making me worry more, asshole!” You slapped your hands over his cheeks as he knelt to put his shoes on. The skin was hot beneath your palms. With his head in your hands and the teary expression, he looked like a lost puppy-dog. “See? You’re burning up. You have a freaking fever, so stay home.”
“It’s nothing.” Once again, he brushed you off. “It isn’t anything I can’t handle.”
You almost want to strangle him just so that you can be the one to kill him. Grabbing onto the crook of his arm, you hugged it tightly, glowering at him.
“I’m not letting you go.”
“[Name], let go.”
“No! What part of ‘I’m not letting you go’ don’t you—waugh!”
He basically flung you off the ground as he stood up, forcing you to stagger backwards. In a simple pulling motion, he swept you in for a hug. His body was uncomfortably hot, but it felt like your face was warm of your own accord as it pressed up against his chest.
“I’m sorry that you’ll be lonely without me. But I’ll be home tonight.” He pulled away, looking down at you fondly. “I promise.”
The sudden affection caught you off guard. Despite moving in together and being in a relationship for this long, Wakatoshi always struggled to be open with his words. He was more of an actions-speak-louder kind of guy, but said actions were also as emotionally constipated as they come. Still, you loved him beyond sweet nothings or grand gestures, and your heart soared to hear it. Not enough so that you felt bad for sharply kicking at the backs of his knees, mercilessly dropping him to the floor.
“Could you just let me love you?!”
He gaped up at you from his hands and knees. With your newfound strength and adrenaline, you looped your arm around his once again and hauled his ass off the ground towards the bedroom. The gap moé was sweet, sure, but you’d rather he be well than sick and fluffy.
“You’re. Staying. Home!”
---
“38.3.” You clicked your tongue in a disappointed ‘told you so’ way. Wakatoshi scowled right back. Normally, the expression would be quite scary, but you’d gotten used to his accidental resting bitch face and took no mind.
“If I rest, will you let me go?”
“No!” you snapped, pausing from your stirring of the hot honey lemon ginger tea. “You’re only this bad because you pushed yourself in the first place.” Setting the mug down so that it’d cool, you swept your hand through his hair, moving it away from the cold compress you’d stuck to his forehead. “It’s just practice, anyways. You don’t even have a game.”
“Practice is mandatory every day. Without practicing, how can the team hope to win?”
“Okay, but you won’t die by missing one or two. You need to rest before you can go be a superstar ace.” You bundled the blanket up to his chin. “I’m locking the door, so you’re gonna have to yell if you want to get out.”
“I don’t understand.” Despite your efforts to keep him lying down, he sat up. “Why are you doing all this for me?”
“Are you serious?” You gaped. But you shouldn’t have asked; he was always serious. He wouldn’t ask unless he had a reason. You relaxed and thought about your answer carefully, but the words came easily. “I want to take care of you.”
“I’m not…” He played with his fingers, twiddling them absent-mindedly. It was something he only did when he felt uncomfortable, and those moments were rare and far in between. “I’m not used to that. Sorry.”
“Oh, Wakatoshi...” You placed your hand over his, stilling the fidgeting. He came from a divorced family with a working mother. He’d spent a lot of his childhood alone. It made sense that he wasn’t used to somebody babying him. “That’s okay. I’m doing ‘all this’ because I care about you, and I want you to get better as soon as possible. I know it’s tough for you to not be playing volleyball.”
He blinked. “I thought you didn’t want me to be playing.”
You rolled your eyes. “I stopped you because you’d run yourself into the ground if I didn’t. Of course I want you to do what you love, but only when you’re healthy.”
“Oh.” Another blink as his golden eyes tracked upwards, the gears creaking in that thick skull of his. You practically saw the sparks flashing as he struggled to put two and two together. “I get it now.”
“Great.” You let go of his hands and stood up. “So, you’ll go to sleep?”
“No.”
Your hands twitched with the ‘let’s-throttle-him!’ urge once again. “Uh… what if I said please?”
“I’ll only go to bed if you stay with me.” His eyes were wide and pleading as he pouted at you.
“Don’t lock me in here.”
Your heart softened, but you hid your expression with a sneer. Better that he didn’t figure out he could get anything he ever wanted if he made that face with you. “Well, if you promise not to run away when my back is turned.”
He nodded obediently. “I promise.”
Thank goodness; your seemingly never-ending struggle with him was finally over. You happily climbed under the covers with him. As you lay down comfortably, he suddenly asked, “will I get you sick?”
You shrugged. “I think I’ll be okay if I haven’t caught it yet. Just don’t sneeze in my face or anything, I guess.”
He paused stiffly. “Maybe you should go if it’s contagious.”
You turned to face him and took his hands, pulling, easing him to lie down with you. His fingertips were freezing cold despite the redness of his face, so you warmed them in your own.
“I’m with you for the long run,” you said softly. “No matter what. Besides, if I get sick, it’ll be your turn to take care of me. Okay?”
You shuffled forwards and kissed him on the forehead delicately. His dark lashes fluttered as he gazed upon you wondrously, and before you knew it he had snatched you up in his arms all over again. Even though he was definitely weaker, his arms were strong around you. You rested your hands on his back and melted into his embrace.
“Stay with me,” he mumbled, his voice rumbling against your cheek.
“I will.”
“Forever.”
You smiled wryly. “Okay, you big baby. I will.”