C.C. stepped off the stool, and even in his current state, Lelouch could hear the sigh off her lips, the slight petulance when she muttered, "All this effort…"

Her arms fell back to her sides, and she smoothed out the wrinkles in her Black Knights uniform. She'd taken off the boots at his insistence that she'd fall otherwise, but now that it was just them, she stripped off the rest of her clothes and kicked them to the side of the room. She heard a distinct grunt from inside the canopy and pointedly ignored it.

Here was Zero, the man of miracles, the hero of Japan, the rebel who created a country out of a single room, overcome by the common cold.

Another sneeze, and his hand weaved out of the curtains to grope for tissues on the bedside table. C.C. watched him struggle until she couldn't anymore and nudged the box within his reach. Another grunt, this one a little kinder, before a large sneeze filled the silence and then more sniffling and shuffling and tossing and turning and—

"It's no wonder you're sick, you know. I told you not to overwork yourself."

She'd had to pry the computer from his clutches when she came back. The meeting had lasted longer than she thought it would and only made her realize just how utterly boring Lelouch's "job" could be at times. Behind the conspiracies and terrorist attacks were paperwork and redundancy and idiots like Tamaki who wouldn't shut up about the cafeteria food. Lelouch really was a man of miracles to put up with all that, she thought, but even symbols of rebellion had their moments of weakness. She'd seen them firsthand many, many times already, after all. This was one of the lighter instances, so she couldn't help but smirk as he scoffed.

"Easier said than done," he muttered, shooting C.C. a glare that was sick and tired but venomous all the same. Ah, so he was still bitter over the computer.

C.C. pulled aside the heavy velvet that cascaded over the bed frame and leaned inside just far enough to make out the flushed color of Lelouch's cheeks.

"I already went through the trouble of having this canopy installed just so you can speak to them in bed. I can easily take it down again."

"You wouldn't dare."

She narrowed her eyes. Bright amber cowed dark violet in a surprising turn of events, and the latter leaned back into his mass of pillows and blankets with a defeated sigh.

"Fine, fine. You win—for now."

There was only silence at first and then more shuffling and then the sliver of light afforded by C.C.'s gap disappeared. Even with his eyes closed, Lelouch could sense the change. Good. She was going to leave him alone, or so he thought, anyways. The covers suddenly jerked in one direction; there was new heat where there had only been space, and Lelouch's eyes snapped wide open.

"What are you doing."

"I'm taking a nap. Your meeting bored me to tears. You're welcome, by the way."

"I'm sick."

She was as unpredictable as ever. Some things, it seemed, never changed. (Even if he now had a brother where he once had a sister, even if he'd taken one step forward and ten steps back, even if his life had become that much more of a lie than it had been before—she was still the same. And Lelouch found that strangely, secretly—

comforting.)

"Your point? And don't forget, since you've been gone, this has become my bed."

"Our bed," he argued, without thinking, swallowing back the phlegm and the onset of yet another coughing fit, "And another thing—"

A sharp and solitary knock at the door interrupted his train of thought. He paused mid-sentence, and the slight surprise was enough to trigger the fit. He continued coughing—hacking—even as C.C.'s legs slid back over him, even as she muttered "ah, it's here," even as she opened the door. He expected the scent of pizza any minute now, but given how congested he was, he supposed he wouldn't have noticed even if she'd ordered ten or twenty or thirty of them. Instead of lecturing her, as he might have done, or checking the bedside for his depleted credit card, Lelouch pulled the covers back over his head and buried himself in the sheets that were slightly damp with his fever-induced sweat.

C.C. offered the redhead a pleasant smile and leaned over the tray she carried. She plucked the metal spoon from its resting place and skimmed it across the surface. Kallen flinched. A look of irritation flashed across her face. She wasn't an errand girl, and she especially wasn't C.C.'s errand girl. She'd had enough of her ways in that one bedroom apartment to last a lifetime.

"Sugiyama's outdone himself," she quipped, dabbed at her lip with the napkin and promptly took the tray from Kallen's hands.

"Wha—"

"Zero appreciates your service."

"No—! Wait, I mean! C.C.! I was going to—!"

She didn't get to finish her sentence before a blush crept up and heated her ears. They were red for sure, judging from the way C.C. was watching as though she'd never seen something so amusing in her entire life.

"Ne-Never mind! Let me see Le—Zero!"

Kallen reached forward, intent on snatching the bowl back, but C.C. had already begun retreating into the room and out of her reach.

"Kallen, you haven't had your flu shot, have you?"

Kallen stumbled over her words at the question. What did it matter?! "N-No! But that—"

C.C. shook her head. "You should keep your distance then. The flu is contagious, you know."

"Then you—!"

"Thanks."

The door slid shut before she could protest further, and she was left with her half-formed words and one foot just before the threshold. Damn that pizza girl. It wasn't even Sugiyama who'd made it!

She growled lightly and would've persisted if Tamaki hadn't swerved around the corner and nearly knocked the breath out of her. His arm swung around her neck and pulled her close so their heads were just a few inches apart.

"Damn, am I right!" he said, leaning close as if to whisper, but he wasn't trying in the least to keep his voice down. "Zero's a lucky man, am I right? Getting that cold bitch to feed him chicken soup, I mean, it really shows ya who wears the pants in the relationship!"

He cracked up. It was apparently so hilarious. Kallen's lips set in a thin line. She wound back her hand that had turned into a light fist and aimed it at Tamaki's shoulde—face.

"Shut. Up!"

Kallen huffed on impact and immediately began walking the other way. Flu? She pouted to herself. She'd thought he'd just had a cold.

C.C. tutted at the sudden yowling outside the door. "So noisy. You'd think they'd have more consideration when their leader is out sick."

Lelouch sneezed loudly and prolifically in response. C.C. set the tray aside and tucked the veil behind the bedpost, but the sudden influx of light earned her a dirty look from the ex-prince cocooned inside.

"C.C. …" he groused. The bags under his eyes never looked as bad as they did now, but before he could bellyache further, she'd shoved the chicken noodle into his hands.

"Hey!" Some broth sloshed over the edge and stained the duvet. "I'll have to wash that, you know! Since someone doesn't."

"Won't," C.C. corrected, arms crossed under her chest and eyebrow raised. "Stop complaining, and eat."

"You know well enough that my stomach can't handle pizza right now."

"Not pizza, soup." She pointed at the bowl in his hands, and it took a good half minute or so for the cogs to click into place.

He raised an eyebrow that mimicked hers. "For me?"

C.C. rolled her eyes. "Who else?"

She settled beside him, closer than he would have liked, but he was too exhausted to comment. He merely let the steam run into his face and breathed in the warm humidity.

"Eat," she prompted. He gave her a look and wearily picked up the spoon. His hand shook as he did so, but the trembling became far more pronounced when the spoon was full. Before it reached his mouth, he'd already jostled away all the broth.

C.C. watched this process repeat about three or four times before she took the thing from him with yet another roll of her eyes.

"Give that to me."

"No." Lelouch frowned stubbornly and shirked from her touch. "I can feed myself."

"Lelouch, if I wanted to hurt your pride, I'll have plenty of opportunities in the future, but even I can't do anything if you decide to make this your death bed."

Her look was serious, but there was something mischievous glinting in the depths. He'd trusted her far too many times with his life already, but they still managed to squabble over the little things.

"We have a contract, right?"

He gave up at that, but he didn't respond, merely loosened his grip on the metal and let her pliant fingers wrestle it from him. She was careful and slow and made him do half the work. She didn't bring the spoon to his mouth. She lifted it halfway between them, so he had to lean into it. He hesitated with his lips pursed, dissatisfied, but then his shoulders slumped and he relented as he often did where C.C. was involved.

It was a good few minutes of silence, of the clock ticking in the background and the light clink of silverware and china, before Lelouch spoke again, his voice a little gnarled from sickness and hushed from thinly veiled chagrin.

"Thanks," he muttered.

She stopped. This was the second time he thanked her. C.C. let a rare, small smile cross her expression as she dipped the spoon into the soup once again.

"You're welcome, Lelouch."

author's note: hey-o sorry for the rather bland fic. i don't know, i've always wanted to write a short scene where lelouch falls sick (as he should with his workload he's not inhuman) and c.c. more or less takes care of him. i don't know when this is set haha. sometime during r2, but i didn't really get bogged down in the specific timeline :,D sorry and i'm sorry for the blandness orz consider it more of a case study. thanks for reading, though, and for anyone who's reading unholy trinity, i'm still on that! just school and whatnot brings muse down. i'm procrastinating on a report right now, in fact, haha but yeah sorry again for any instances of ooc or awkwardness. haven't watched the show in ages, working off memory/OTP fumes!