This is nothing more than pointless fluff. I'm the only one in my family currently not sick, and my parents brought home pizza for dinner tonight, so there's my inspiration for this one. Plus, I really like Sick!Shinji, just because he's never sick.


Ichigo would probably never forget the looks he had received from every worker in the pizza place when he ordered twelve pizzas and told them he wasn't hosting a party. They had ranged from disgust to bafflement, from simple confusion to outright hilarity. Half an hour later, he walked out of the small take-out only restaurant- if it could still be called that, with only benches for seating and no tables at all- with all of the boxes and stuck them in the passenger side of his car. He had no problems carrying them, much to the workers' astonishment.

He drove all the way back to the Visored workhouse with the radio on, the heat on high and the windows down. He enjoyed himself immensely, loving the wind in his hair and the lights of the brightly lit city reflecting on his windshield.

But gradually, the light, airy atmosphere turned into a darker one. It was a familiar transformation, one that brought him no alarm. The warehouse was in a shady part of town, one commonly filled with crimes of all sorts, but Ichigo wasn't worried. He, as well as the other Visored and co. could handle themselves.

Eventually, he located the warehouses that had been abandoned long before he could remember. Amongst them, invisible to the average human eye, was the Visored warehouse, and it was towards this invisible house that he brought his car and pizza boxes. There was no sound inside.

Grabbing the boxes after parking his car, he turned to find Shinji watching him with a blanket wrapped around him. Ichigo smiled and told the blond, "You really shouldn't be out in sixty-four degree weather when you're sick."

And as if to prove his point, Shinji sneezed and glared at the young adult. "Fuck you," the blond muttered, the congestion clear in his voice. "I'm fine."

Ichigo rolled his eyes and made his way inside the warehouse, Shinji following quietly behind him. He placed the boxes on the kitchen counter and turned around, leaning back on the granite surface. Shinji stood in the doorway, but moved to Ichigo when the redhead opened his arms.

Looping his arms around Shinji's waist, Ichigo planted a kiss on Shinji' mouth, pouting when Shinji pulled away. "Sick, remember?" the blond said grouchily, looking all too unhappy with the situation.

"I don't get sick," Ichigo claimed, moving to reclaim Shinji's lips.

The older man allowed Ichigo to have his way only for a moment. "Everyone gets sick," Shinji argued, pulled back once more, and resisting when Ichigo tried to kiss him again. "Even you, oh great invincible one."

Ichigo wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Please, never call me that again," he requested, stopping his attempts to get another kiss. Shinji sneezed again, pulling himself out of Ichigo's arms just in time. Ichigo frowned sympathetically and ran his hands through blond strands, and then over Shinji's cheekbones, tugging the other man back into his embrace. "And, I'm not kidding. I haven't been sick in nearly a decade," he finished.

Shinji scoffed. "Well, you've gone and jinxed it now, haven't ya?"

Ichigo grinned and managed to sneak another kiss, pulling back quickly to say, "Nope!"

"You're impossible," Shinji sighed, leaning his head on Ichigo's chest and tugging his blanket more firmly over his shoulders. He closed his eyes when Ichigo only hummed and ran his fingers through his hair again, quietly and soothing Shinji's pounding head.

They stood for a few moments in that position before Ichigo asked, "You hungry?"

Shinji considered the question. Logically, he knew he should eat or risk passing out later, but he decided that he really didn't care. He wasn't in any mood for food of any kind. "I only want water," he told his younger boyfriend, who planted a kiss on his head.

"Alright," Ichigo agreed. "You head to bed; I'll join you in a minute."

Loathe to leave, Shinji mumbled his consent and left the room, taking the short route up to his and Ichigo's shared bedroom. Ichigo followed after a few minutes with a plate balanced on his forearm and a cup filled with ice water in each hand. He used his elbow to open the door, and Shinji was there immediately to take the plate and a glass from his grasp. "Thanks," Ichigo said, closing the door and climbing on the bed, taking the plate from Shinji.

The blond nodded and sneezed, glaring hatefully at the cup in his hand as if it had done him a great disservice. "Being sick absolutely blows," he informed the redhead, who smiled, half sorry, half amused.

"I'm sure," he agreed, tucking himself into Shinji's side when the blond settled himself on the bed. He ate his dinner quickly and set the plate on the bedside table, then wrapped his arms back around Shinji's waist and resting his head on the blond's shoulder with a sigh. "I love you," he said quietly.

"Love you, too," Shinji returned, shifting so that they both were lying down. They fell asleep not long after.

Ichigo never did get sick, much to Shinji's astonishment and disgruntlement.