A/N: This story was requested by secant-1 for my 200 follower fic giveaway on Tumblr (which was forever ago T^T I'm just slow)
Original Prompt: I would love to read your take on Haru caring for a sick Makoto. Especially if it was kind of Haru's fault he got sick in the first place.
"39.2," Haruka said, frowning worriedly.
"That's not so bad," Makoto lied, trying to smile.
Haruka gave him a flat look. "Makoto, please. Even I know that's bad."
Makoto's forced smile faltered, though he did managed to shrug. "Really, don't be too worried. I've had worse."
"Once," Haruka said pointedly. "When you were nine. And that time your mom had to take you to the emergency room."
Right. Of course Haruka knew about that. Sometimes Makoto wished that he was capable of hiding things from Haruka—just little things, for his own good.
Haruka's frown grew.
"Listen, that was just because I was dehydrated," Makoto assured him. He attempted to sit up in bed, but Haruka gently, but firmly pushed him back down. "So long as I drink lots of fluids and take some medicine, I'll be fine."
Makoto was overwhelmed by a bout of wracking coughs, ruining the effect of his assurances. He winced as his lungs and throat ached from the unexpected abuse.
"Really," he wheezed, then grimaced. He hadn't realized he still had phlegm caught in his throat—it only made him sound worse than he actually was. Makoto cleared his throat, attempting to sit up again. "I'll be fine."
"You," Haruka said firmly, pushing him down once more, "are staying in bed. I'll make you some rice porridge."
"Ha-ru," Makoto said, resorting to whining as Haruka stood up from sitting on the edge of the bed and started toward the bedroom door. "You don't have to. It's not a—"
Haruka glared at him suddenly, cutting off any further excuses. Recognizing his defeat, Makoto let his head fall back onto the pillow.
Despite Haruka's insistence, it really wasn't that bad of a fever. Makoto was quite certain it was just a cold and nothing major. Besides, it was their one day off together. He wanted to be able to spend that time having fun with Haruka, not being stuck in bed.
Haruka walked back into the room, placing some ibuprofen and a glass of water on the nightstand next to Makoto. Then he sat down on the edge of the bed once more and offered Makoto his hand. "Here, I'll help you sit up."
Makoto accepted his offer, the cool feel of Haruka's delicate hand feeling nice against his own sweaty hand. Slowly Haruka helped him scootch into a reclined sitting position, placing a few pillows behind his back for extra support.
"Thanks," Makoto told him with a genuine smile.
For some reason, Haruka's frown only grew. "You should take the medicine now."
Sighing, Makoto reached over and took two of the three pills sitting on the table. He swallowed them, wincing at the searing feel of the ice cold water against his sore throat. When he had finished, Haruka handed him the third pill.
"The bottle says to take two."
Haruka narrowed his eyes, forcing the last pill into Makoto's hand. "When you're feeling this bad, you're allowed to take 600 milligrams."
Makoto relented, swallowing the third and then handing the glass back to Haruka.
"You should leave that here," Haruka told him, taking the glass and placing it back on the nightstand. "I'm going to make the porridge now. You just stay here and get some rest."
Makoto sighed loudly, causing Haruka to roll his eyes as he left. Frowning grumpily, Makoto squirmed against the pillows, shifting down a bit into a more comfortable position. He could hear Haruka's delicate footsteps in the kitchen down the hall, pausing as the cupboard door opened and closed. There was a tinkling sound that had to be the rice being poured into a bowl, followed by the sound of running water.
Makoto was overcome by another coughing fit, making his throat feel as though it was being sliced by a knife. Even when the coughs finally subsided, he was left breathing heavily. Exhausted, he let his head fall back into the pillows and his eyes drift shut, trying to let the soothing sound of Haruka washing the rice calm him down.
Aside from the small, homey sounds coming from the kitchen, the apartment was quiet and still. Outside Makoto could hear birds chirping happily, although the room itself was still cloaked in early morning shadows, only the faintest gleam of reflected light creeping through their west-facing window. As his breathing settled, the dull ache in Makoto's head that had been lying dormant all morning now pushed its way to the front of his mind, throbbing relentlessly against his temples and behind his eyes. With his head so stuffed up, even his ears felt a bit scratchy when he swallowed, and now that he was lying still, he became aware of a lowkey ache in his back and legs.
No, he didn't like being sick one bit. Things were far, far better when he was taking care of someone else instead. But—though he hated to admit it—Makoto finally realized that he truly wasn't in any shape to go out and about to enjoy their day off.
He could hear Haruka putting the pot on the oven and starting the flame beneath it. It wasn't fair that Haruka would have to spend his own day off sitting around the apartment taking care of him, either.
"Makoto."
Makoto blinked, groggily rolling over to find Haruka gently shaking his shoulder.
"I let the porridge cool a bit, but you should probably eat it while it's still hot," Haruka told him, gesturing toward the steaming bowl sitting on the nightstand.
Makoto blinked again, still feeling a bit disoriented as he hummed sleepily. Carefully Haruka helped him sit back up, adjusting his pillows for him.
He coughed again, but there was less bite to it, and his throat didn't feel quite as raw. Haruka waited to make sure that he was done coughing, then handed Makoto a potholder and passed him the porridge.
"Thank you," Makoto said, drawing strength from the insistent warmth of the bowl in his lap. "I'm sorry you have to go through all this trouble, Haru-chan."
Makoto started to scoop himself a spoonful, but paused when he caught the look on Haruka's face. All in a rush his groggy mind realized that Haruka hadn't bothered to correct him. Concerned, Makoto lowered his spoon. "Haruka?"
Haruka flinched, his frown becoming even more pained. "Don't apologize," he mumbled, pressing his lips together. "It's my fault you got sick in the first place."
"Your fault?" Makoto asked, tilting his head to the side in confusion. "What do you mean?"
Haruka's pained expression tightened even further. "Friday. At the park." He took a deep breath, somehow managing to curl in on himself with such a defeated look that Makoto immediately reached out to him. He wrapped his arms around Haruka, mindful of the still-hot bowl in his lap.
"The park?" he prompted, thinking back. "Oh, you mean at the fountain?" He could feel Haruka tense in his arms. Makoto chuckled, patting Haruka's back. "What do you mean? That wasn't your fault."
"Yes, it was," Haruka mumbled into his shirt, his warm breath fanning across Makoto's collarbone. "If I hadn't tried to jump in, you never would have tried to stop me and fallen into the fountain."
"Well, it is April…" Makoto said slowly, hoping that Haruka might finally take this as a sign that spring was too early to go swimming.
Haruka pulled back from him abruptly, a look of worried horror on his face, and Makoto immediately regretted saying anything. "Haru, really, if I had been more mindful of where I was stepping, I wouldn't have tripped in the first place. It's not your fault I fell into the fountain, and it's definitely not your fault I got sick."
From the look on Haruka's face, Makoto could tell that he didn't believe him. Makoto sighed, refocusing his attention to the porridge in his lap. He took a bite, relishing the warm, creamy feeling it left in his mouth and the way it soothed his throat as he swallowed. Makoto hummed around his spoon, sucking off every last drop. "This is delicious. How lucky I am to have the best cook in Japan looking after me while I'm sick?"
To Makoto's relief, Haruka rolled his eyes, though he caught a small smile flickering on his lips.
"Make sure you eat the whole thing," Haruka told him sternly, watching as Makoto took another bite. "I've got more on the stove if you're still hungry."
"You know," Makoto said thoughtfully, talking around another spoonful. "Since we can't go out, maybe we can spend the day cuddling on the couch and playing video games…"
Haruka's eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Makoto put on his most innocent smile. Finally Haruka sighed. "You've got that glint in your eye. I suppose you wouldn't listen even if I said no."
"Oh, but you wouldn't say no to me, would you?" Makoto asked sweetly, giving Haruka a lopsided grin.
With a huff, Haruka stood up and took Makoto's empty bowl. "Fine. We can play…"
Triumphantly, Makoto start to push off his covers, only to be stopped yet again by Haruka's firm hand.
"After you get some more sleep," Haruka said sternly. Makoto wilted under that stare, grumpily pulling the covers back up.
"Fine," he grumbled, settling back down. Then, under his breath he add, "See if I go easy on you now."
"I heard that," Haruka called nonchalantly, leaving the room. Makoto couldn't help a small chuckle, the warmth from the porridge spreading across his middle and already drawing his eyes slowly closed.
A/N: THIS STORY WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE? I mean, I was pumped for it all along, but then when I started writing it I couldn't stop giggling. Hopefully you like it as well! ^^
As good as Makoto is at taking care of other people, I feel like he would be a very bad patient himself, y'know? He's always so worried about helping people, and I don't think he would want to inconvenience anyone (including Haru). Plus, it just seems like sometimes the people who are really good at taking care of others have a terrible time judging how much rest they need themselves. (For example, apparently doctors and nurses are notorious for being bad patients xD) Couple that with the fact that we all know that Makoto can actually be quite devious when he wants something (such as winning a game), and I think he would be a real pain in the butt to take care of when he's sick. Adorable and puppy-like, for sure, but also a real pain in the ass. Also, afterwards I realized that the way I wrote Makoto here kind of reminds me of how Howl acts when he's sick (from Howl's Moving Castle) xD That was unintentional, but kind of funny ^^
I spent some time researching rice porridge for this story ^^ I was fairly certain that rice porridge was a common "sick food" in Japan, but I wanted to make sure. The first recipe I found was actually for congee, which would have been nice to use since it takes longer to cook (I wanted more time for Makoto to drift off to sleep). Still, it appears that the Japanese style rice porridge takes a decent amount of time to prepare and cook as well, and obviously it's more likely that Haru would make that instead ^^
Oh, and I know that normally you're supposed to have food in your stomach when you take Motrin, but… well, first of all I personally have never had a problem with taking it on an empty stomach, and second trying to work in some little type of cracker for him to eat just seemed like such a headache, so we're just going to ignore that little fact.
Also, when I was trying to come up with a short summary for this, my first thought was "Makoto's sick and being a total baby about it." xDD
As always, feel free to come hang/chat/gush with me on Tumblr (Konekat)! ^^