Yes, yes, another K drabble! This one is part of a trio of sick!fics I wrote in a project inspired by the lovely Azii. I was feeling ill and wanted to write about sickly people, but I couldn't decide on a pairing...so I wrote all three of them. She challenged me to include a syringe and an unwilling patient in each fic, and then went on to write her own three with the same pairings. If you'd like to see her work, join me in pestering her to publish them . Enjoy!


"No."

"But…"

Anna shuts her eyes as Mikoto's hand closes over her head. His fingers press tightly into her forehead for a moment, and she shrinks into her center as her feet leave the floor. Then, the pressure is gone, and she opens her eyes to see the front window of HOMRA's bar. Kusanagi stands behind the bar, cleaning his shot glasses, and outside, she can see Yata trying out his newest tricks. Worry washes over her at the inanity, and she looks over her shoulder at Mikoto. How can they act like nothing is wrong?

Her king lays stretched out along the length of the small love seat, one leg propped up atop the arm and the other dangling to the floor. There is something wrong in the way his aura trembles and flares, and its color is all wrong. His brows are drawn tight, and he lays his arm across his eyes as she watches. They can't see that sickness in his aura, the slight increase of tension in his facial muscles. It isn't right. From the bar, Kusanagi watches her little fists clench around the plastic needle with its playful red cross from the practice first aid kit that Totsuka had gotten her so long ago.

"Anna," he calls softly, "let's let Mikoto-san nap, hm?"

Reluctantly, he nods and slowly makes her way to the bar. Kusanagi smiles warmly and pats her head, leaning his elbows on the bar. He knows that Mikoto's state unsettles her. HOMRA's princess, as detached as she seems, is highly attuned to the emotion of others, and to none more so than her king. That Mikoto turns her away now only exacerbates her worry, and the blond can see it in her eyes.

"It's just a cold, Anna," he assures her, but she will have none of it.

"Mikoto…does not get cold," she protests with a slight backwards glance. "He is…warm."

"He'll be fine, I promise. Why don't we make him a special drink to help him feel better faster, huh?"

When she nods, he smiles and sets down a clean cup. From an upper cabinet, he retrieves a jar of thick, golden honey and a packet of spices. Setting a metal strainer in the mouth of the glass, he fills it with herbs and pours water overtop the mixture until the leaves begin to dance on the surface. Then, with a wink, he holds up the glass and sparks the tip of his cigarette into a flame. The tea boils quickly, and soon he is adding a splash of lemon syrup.

Anna garnishes the mixture with a dollop of honey when instructed and takes it carefully in hand once the strainer is removed. Slipping down from her chair, she carries it quietly to her king and stands by silently until he takes notice of her. The red lion lifts his gaze over her shoulders when he takes the cup, and holds it to his lieutenant's. With a vague smile, Kusanagi holds up the abandoned toy syringe and wiggles it before dropping it into a drawer to be forgotten. A sigh escapes Mikoto, then, and his eyelids drop to half mast as he nods. At last, he lifts the tea cup to his lips and rests his free hand comfortingly on Anna.

His secret is safe.


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