Another HayaYuu one-shot, this one taking place when they're eight/seven. Just cute fluff. Betaed by the loverly dansunedisco. Enjoy! ;3

(EDIT: I realized a while after I wrote this that I had the age difference between Hayate and Yuugao wrong. They're actually two years apart, not one. Please excuse my error, and consider this an AU for all purposes, since they're only a year apart in this fic.)

Disclaimer: Naruto does not belong to me; I just borrow it sometimes. The setting and characters belong to Kishimoto Masashi.

Small Hands

Hayate was sick.

Not that falling ill was anything really new for him; he'd always been a sickly child with that chronic cough, constantly sick to the point of being bedridden - so much that in his second year at the Academy he'd missed enough class that his instructors had decided to hold him back one year. Now he was eight and in his third year of the academy, but still technically a second-year. For a while it had looked like this year would be better for him healthwise, but then he had fallen ill again. He'd been out of school for three days now.

Who got this sick in the spring, anyway? he thought bitterly. That was just stupid. And lame.

Except truth be told, his thoughts honestly weren't that coherent; the pounding headache from the fever was keeping him from thinking anything more advanced than "I hurt" and the all-too-frequent mental (and voiced) whimper. His mother only frowned and plucked the thermometer from his dry mouth, sighing. His fever hadn't gone down.

She reached over and smoothed his hair back comfortingly, bending down to drop a light kiss on his forehead. The gesture seemed to calm him down a bit, as his whimpers faded away, and his body relaxed into the futon. She murmured some quiet words to soothe him, tucking the thermometer away, and looked up only at the knock on the door.

"Relax," she told her son. He only coughed, watching her through half-lidded, heavily undershadowed eyes as she left the room. It was suddenly cold without her and he shivered and whimpered and weakly drew the covers closer around him. (When had they gotten so heavy?) Through the thick haze that had settled over his fevered head he could almost hear the brief conversation at the door and the quiet footsteps back to his bedroom that followed. His mother leaned into the room, lips pursed slightly into a thin line. "Hayate? There's someone from school here to see you."

Hayate sniffled once, then coughed, bringing his hand in a limply curled fist to his mouth. "Okay," he muttered hoarsely, rubbing one eye. His mother frowned again.

"Are you all right to see her? She says she brought some work from school from your teacher..."

Hayate let out an indecisive-sounding half-groan as he shifted on the futon, and he sniffled again. He tried to clear his throat as he felt something decidedly icky slide down it, and he shuddered. (He hated that feeling.) His head still hurt and he was pretty sure he still had a fever, but if his mother wasn't turning her away - well, he could stand it for a few minutes. He'd just woken up from a nap as it was. "Yeah, 'm okay," he mumbled. No one ever came to visit him when he was sick anyway.

His mother nodded, turning to the unseen person beyond the doorway, and ushered her in. Hayate lifted his eyes to look at her - he remembered seeing her in class. Shoulder-length violet hair and sharp, bright eyes - he couldn't match a name to the face, but he knew her from his new class. She sat in the front row, a little ways away from him - she raised her hand a lot. She liked asking questions. Answering them, too. But he couldn't seem to remember her name.

"Hayate, this is Uzuki Yuugao, from your class at the Academy," his mother said and Hayate nodded dully in response. (Right - right. That was her name. He'd known that.) Yuugao gave him a small smile with pink lips, one that seemed tinged with a bit of sympathy, and bowed briefly.

"I'm sorry you're so sick, Hayate-kun. But I brought some stuff from school..." She was carrying a folder and she held it up for him to see. "And, the class made you a get-well card..." She smiled again and Hayate only blinked. A get-well card from his class? (His last class had never bothered.)

"Oh. Um - thanks." He knew how quiet and dry his voice was; it probably didn't sound very grateful. His mother showed Yuugao the sitting-cushion by his futon and backed towards the door.

"Yuugao, Hayate, I just need to do some gardenwork in the front. I'll be back soon, all right?"

Hayate nodded weakly, sinking back into the futon bonelessly, and his mother disappeared from the room. Yuugao looked uncertain for a moment, lips twitching and twisting into a half-frown, before she finally sat down cross-legged on the cushion and scooted towards the bed. Hayate couldn't help but notice how her little toes wiggled as she moved forward.

"Why are you so sick?" she asked curiously, the folder resting on her lap. Hayate shrugged listlessly, unwilling to really move for fear of agitating the delicate state of bearable headache he had managed to achieve. He barely stifled a cough.

"I just am, is all. I just get sick a lot."

"Oh." Yuugao nodded, picking up the folder. Even at only seven years old she seemed to be able to pick up on the fact that Hayate didn't really want to talk about it. She opened the folder with careful fingers, pulling out a packet of papers. "Um, sensei said to read this before you come back... it's, it's on weapon safety and stuff, but..." She pursed her lips for a moment. "If you want, I can read it out loud to you."

She'd read it to him? Even though he was sick and gross? She was nice, Hayate decided then. He sniffled. "Okay."

Yuugao seemed pleased with his acceptance of her offer and began reading the packet to him in careful, measured tones. Her voice was a little loud for comfort, but he thought he might able to bear it and he was just too tired to tell her anyway. He shut his eyes and coughed once, wincing as the motion sent his feverish headache back into full force. He shuddered uncomfortably under the heavy blankets, biting back a groan, but Yuugao didn't seem to notice the change. He began tuning out her words (he'd heard this all before, hadn't he?), his attention jerked away by the steady throbbing of his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed - but his mouth was so dry and her voice was so loud and he wasn't sure he could even make out the words anymore. His head felt like it was going to explode, and his mother was gone. This was all wrong. He let out a feverish whimper, covering his face with his hands.

Yuugao stopped reading at hearing the whimper and frowned. "Hey, are you even - " She stopped midsentence, looking up from the packet, and her brow furrowed. "Hayate-kun, are you okay?"

Hayate drew in a shaky breath, trying to speak, but his mouth felt numb. He tried to make a sound, but all that came out was another whimper and the mere effort of trying to speak sent his head into a fresh wave of pain. Yuugao looked a little alarmed now, putting the packet down. She leaned forward. "Hayate-kun, are you okay? Are you thirsty? Do you need something?"

Her voice was so loud - everything was - and Hayate shivered again. He just wanted his mother - she never asked questions - she just knew, and she just made him better without saying anything, without -

He coughed again, and a wave of nausea rolled through him, and his head just hurt so much, and the next thing he knew, he was crying - soft, quiet, whimpering sobs as his hands fell away from his face. His mouth was still dry, he was still shivering and uncomfortable, and his head still throbbed with every shaky sob. Yuugao only looked alarmed and maybe a little horrified - he was crying now; what was she supposed to do? For a few painfully uncomfortable moments she could only stare at him, eyes wide. And then she reached forward and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder, her brow knit in honest concern.

"Hey - hey, Hayate-kun... don't cry..."

But he didn't stop crying - if he even registered what she said, it didn't show in the way he hiccuped and sniffled and sobbed, still lying there on the futon weakly. And he really sounded in pain and that was what worried Yuugao the most - because she never thought he was much of a crybaby. So she did the only thing she could think of - she scooted forward off of the cushion and onto the futon, and as gently as she could she pulled Hayate's head onto her lap just like her mother did for her when she wasn't feeling well. She looked down at him with as much of a smile as she could manage, clumsily stroking his hair away from his eyes.

"Don't cry, Hayate-kun, it's okay..." She shushed and soothed him as best as she could, wiping away his tears with the corner of her sleeve and he stared up at her with wide, dark eyes, still watery from crying. A few sniffles and hiccups and whimpers still escaped him now, but he didn't seem to be crying anymore as Yuugao smoothed back his hair in a decidedly motherly fashion, calming him down with her words. His head still hurt, but her voice didn't seem to be agitating him any longer.

When he seemed to have calmed down, Yuugao smiled down at him, her pink lips turned up slightly at the corners. "Are you thirsty?" she asked. "I brought juice with me..." She reached for the canteen she had carried in with her.

"If I put my mouth on it you'll get my germs," Hayate pointed out in a barely audible mumble. Yuugao shook her head, popping open the top of the canteen.

"You can have it all. I'll wash it when I get home, okay? Here..." She handed him the canteen and Hayate put it carefully to his mouth, drinking from it slowly - he felt too weak and achy to sit up. His eyes never left her face.

She took the canteen back from him when he was done, closing it up and putting it off to the side. She smoothed his hair away from his face again - just like his mother did - and he closed his eyes, hiccuping once.

By the time Hayate's mother came back inside, he had already fallen asleep, his head resting comfortably on Yuugao's lap.