A/Note: A fluffy story about Kenshin, as a gift fic for Silversparkz on tumblr. Silver draws adorable chibis, as well as Ikebuns. By which I mean Bunnies. Just to be clear.

~ Imp

PS "Shiru" is taken from Shiruba(a), the Japanese pronunciation of the word Silver.

A Spoonful of Sake (Makes the Medicine Go Down)

"I never get sick."

Shiru nodded agreeably. As always, it was best to be patient with Kenshin when he was genuinely hurting. Right now, he had a raging fever, and his cool, pleasant voice was a raspy shadow of its usual self.

"I understand that, Kenshin-sama. I'm worried about you, though. …And I was hoping you'd let me take care of you, today. You're always looking out for me."

"Hmm…" His brilliant, mismatched eyes searched her face, and then turned fretfully away. But he put down the kimono he'd been about to change into, and Shiru took that as tacit permission to come over and gently smooth his light sleeping yukata back into place. She tried not to frown when she realized it was damp with sweat.

"I asked one of the maids to help me make you a drink I think you'll like," she said, laying her hand against his flushed cheek. "Why don't you let me fetch a clean yukata for you, and pour you a drink, and then—when you're ready—you can rest your head in my lap?"

He hadn't seemed well enough to get up, when she'd gone down to the kitchen to concoct something pleasant to soothe his sore throat. She'd taken a bit longer than she'd expected, since she was more used to buying cold remedies off the shelf than making her own, but it had been a surprise to return just in time to prevent him from getting dressed for the day.

Kenshin stilled as soon as she touched his cheek, and after a moment the corners of his mouth turned up, and his expression relaxed. He covered her hand with his own. "As you wish, Shiru. And what is in this drink of yours?"

Even unwell, even with his skin paler than usual behind the flush of fever, Kenshin was a beautiful man. His true smile, the one that reached his eyes, was luminous. More than that, though, Shiru was conscious of gratitude that this incredible man loved her—that he would listen to her, and be guided by her, and was soothed by her touch.

"Sake, of course." They both smiled at that. "Warmed with a few extra spices, a touch of ginger, some honey, and a hint of citrus."

Kenshin shook his head, although Shiru caught a hint of a wince. She suspected he had a brutal headache.

"That sounds terrible. Did Shingen help you? He's been known to abuse good sake like that."

Shingen had helped, of course, and Shiru knew the truth was written on her face. She had to laugh a little, although underneath it all lurked the anxiety that Kenshin was genuinely unwell, and even "just a bad cold" could be dangerous, in this era of limited medical knowledge and resources. On the other hand, Kenshin had an excellent physician, Matsumoto-sensei, and she'd alerted him to his lord's condition.

"Shingen may have had something to do with it. But I thought it tasted nice, and I've drunk enough sake with you to know what's acceptable."

"Then you can pour some for me. But if it tastes like medicine, I'll tell you so!"

"And drink it anyway? For me?" Shiru had helped him to change into a fresh, cool yukata, and wiped the sweat from his face. He looked much more comfortable now, and she hoped that the physician would come soon with the medicine she'd requested—mostly something to reduce the fever and help Kenshin sleep. In the meantime, she poured him a cup of her own concoction, filling it right to the brim as he preferred when drinking.

"Yes. For you." He drank deeply—as deeply as he did with regular sake—which was a true testament to his trust in Shiru. Funny how such a small gesture had so much meaning. Mind you, in a world where assassination was a constant possibility, it wasn't so small.

"And?" She took the cup from him.

"It's terrible, just as I expected."

"How unkind of you, Kenshin-sama!"

He smirked a little, and she was pleased to see such a playful look on him.

"I warned you that I would tell you the truth."

Before Shiru could respond, there was a soft "excuse me" at the door. When Kenshin growled a command to enter—he never did well with interruptions of their time together—Matsumoto-sensei came in to examine him, and to hand Shiru some medicine. The physician was brusque, but thorough. Kenshin was a better patient for him than Shiru had expected—impatient, but mostly non-threatening—and she put it down to Kenshin's preference for those (very few) people who didn't treat him with awe, if not outright servility.

After Matsumoto-sensei had gone, and Kenshin had taken the medicine to reduce his fever, Shiru sat at the head of the futon and laid a soft towel over her lap. She was trying not to smile at the God of War's almost childish expression of displeasure over the taste of the physician's brew.

"Will you come rest your head on my lap, now?"

Kenshin frowned, then looked away slightly. "I still need to finish the drink you brought. There was more in the jug."

Shiru was about to protest that he'd called it 'terrible' and—by implication—an 'abuse of sake'. Then she realized that it had probably tasted a good deal better than the real medicine he'd just had, and possibly hadn't even been that bad to begin with.

"I'll pour you another cup, Kenshin-sama." Then her amusement got the better of her. With an irrepressible tremor of laughter in her voice, she added. "I'm pleased you would do this for me."

Kenshin made a small noise that sounded remarkably like 'hmph'. He extended his cup to her in haughty silence. Just before lifting Shiru's 'abused' sake to his lips, he commented: "I said that I would drink it. I never go back on my word."

She took the empty cup from him, and then resumed her position in the place of his pillow. She hoped she hadn't truly offended him, but she didn't think so.

"I know that, Kenshin-sama. It's one of the many things I love about you."

"You can be rather foolish at times, Shiru." His voice was soft, and had regained a little bit of its usual musical timbre.

"Yes, beloved. I know that too."

Kenshin's settled himself in the futon, with his head on Shiru's lap. She felt his muscles slowly relax.

"I'm glad you are here. Don't… push yourself too hard… trying to look after me… though. I'm not… really all that sick."

She gently stroked his fine pale hair away from his brow. He was already asleep, she thought. And she'd be there when he woke up, because that's what he really meant, and she knew that, too.

[END]