Title: Even in Sickness
Author: Kentra Shinataku
Pairings: 2+3+2
Warnings: uh, none really. its'a ficlet. *shrugs* just read it.
dedicated to all my fellow flu-infested Americans. *coughsnifflesneeze*
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The blankets had never been more comfortable and the pillow had never felt so nice, nuzzled behind his neck. There was an itch he didn't have the energy to scratch driving him berserk behind his knee, and he couldn't decide what burdened him more: the heavy blankets or the guilt from being taken care of.
There was no mistaking the scent that wafted into the bedroom; he knew that Trowa was making him his favorite noodle soup. Trowa had been the one to make sure he was warm enough, to check on him at regular intervals, and to brush and braid his hair with a regal dignity, all without seeming overprotective. Somehow. Now he was cooking him soup. It was too much. If there was anything Duo hated more than greedy politicians, Thanksgiving parades, and hatred itself, it was being a burden on someone else.
He fidgeted wearily and blinked his groggy eyes at the light pouring through the slightly parted curtains. He wished his hand could just reach over and pull the damn things shut. However, he could barely move and he sure as hell wasn't going to ask Trowa to do it for him. He was a big boy, he could take care of himself. Really.
One foot slid it's way from under the covers and out into the startlingly cool air, before he let his toes dangle onto the bitter, wooden, floor. The other foot tried to follow, and he wished that he had the strength to shove the mountainous pile of blankets away. Even if he tried and succeeded, he knew he'd regret it. So, he figured, he'd just wrestle with it until it made itself disappear.
"What are you doing?" Duo's arms terminated their fruitless battle with the blankets and he cocked his hundred pound head so he could see over his shoulder.
"Uh… nothing?" Duo responded vaguely. Trowa was holding a steaming bowl of soup in his hands, leaning against the doorjamb with an amused arch in his eyebrow.
Trowa sighed, a hint of a smile formulating on his thin lips. "Get back in bed Duo. It's cold."
**********
Author: Kentra Shinataku
Pairings: 2+3+2
Warnings: uh, none really. its'a ficlet. *shrugs* just read it.
dedicated to all my fellow flu-infested Americans. *coughsnifflesneeze*
**********
The blankets had never been more comfortable and the pillow had never felt so nice, nuzzled behind his neck. There was an itch he didn't have the energy to scratch driving him berserk behind his knee, and he couldn't decide what burdened him more: the heavy blankets or the guilt from being taken care of.
There was no mistaking the scent that wafted into the bedroom; he knew that Trowa was making him his favorite noodle soup. Trowa had been the one to make sure he was warm enough, to check on him at regular intervals, and to brush and braid his hair with a regal dignity, all without seeming overprotective. Somehow. Now he was cooking him soup. It was too much. If there was anything Duo hated more than greedy politicians, Thanksgiving parades, and hatred itself, it was being a burden on someone else.
He fidgeted wearily and blinked his groggy eyes at the light pouring through the slightly parted curtains. He wished his hand could just reach over and pull the damn things shut. However, he could barely move and he sure as hell wasn't going to ask Trowa to do it for him. He was a big boy, he could take care of himself. Really.
One foot slid it's way from under the covers and out into the startlingly cool air, before he let his toes dangle onto the bitter, wooden, floor. The other foot tried to follow, and he wished that he had the strength to shove the mountainous pile of blankets away. Even if he tried and succeeded, he knew he'd regret it. So, he figured, he'd just wrestle with it until it made itself disappear.
"What are you doing?" Duo's arms terminated their fruitless battle with the blankets and he cocked his hundred pound head so he could see over his shoulder.
"Uh… nothing?" Duo responded vaguely. Trowa was holding a steaming bowl of soup in his hands, leaning against the doorjamb with an amused arch in his eyebrow.
Trowa sighed, a hint of a smile formulating on his thin lips. "Get back in bed Duo. It's cold."
**********