"Ore-sama never knew you to be one to take care of sick people." You sent a small glare in Atobe's direction.

"I never knew you to be one who would get sick in the first place." You shot back, "now shut up and rest quietly." Atobe smirked, and you marveled at how he could still look attractive with red cheeks, a running nose and wrapped up in blankets like a grade schooler. "Here," you said, handing Atobe a couple tissues. He blew his nose as you placed a cool damp cloth on his forehead. He tossed the tissues in the bin next to his bed and lay against the pillows. "I'll make you something to eat. Don't expect anything fancy though." You said, standing and smoothing out the wrinkles on your shirt.

"Ore-sama doesn't need to be spoon-fed by you—" Atobe was unable to finish his sentence as an intense wave of coughs wracked his body.

"Just shut up and get some rest. I'll be back." You say, closing the bedroom door behind you and making your way down the large carpeted spiral staircase. You had walked around his house more than enough times to know where the kitchen was, and after double-checking to make sure there were no cooks around (they'd want to cook something for him, something probably too rich), you began to make him chicken soup. "Oh god, well, grandma, let's see if I can make it as well as you can."

...

After almost setting the kitchen on fire, nearly cutting your fingers off, burning your arm on the stove and just barely avoiding catching your sleeves aflame, you managed to get a pot of chicken noodle soup bubbling on the stove. Wiping your forehead with your arm, you sighed in relief. You found it difficult to scoop the soup while holding the bowl with your bandaged arm, but you managed to fill the bowl and set it on a tray with a glass of water and some crackers.

"Hopefully I can feed this to him without him giving a fit." You sighed, carrying the tray up to Atobe's room. "I hope it won't get cold." The halls were long and you were glad you knew your way around; otherwise you would have gotten lost and would have to call for help.

When you knocked softly on Atobe's door and received no response, you assumed he went to the bathroom, and opened the door. What you found, however, was Atobe sleeping soundly in his bed. Blinking, you crept forward, gently and quietly pushing the door closed with your foot. Coming to the edge of his bed, your eyes softened as you looked at his sleeping face. The towel had fallen from his head, and you set down the tray to carefully take the towel away and place it on the rim of the bowl of water beside the tray.

You gently brushed strands of hair from his forehead. "Hnn... looks like your fever has gone down a bit." You murmured, running your hands through his hair. You wanted to sit there and run your hands through his hair more, but you had to go home, and even though you wanted to stay with him, it was getting late. "Your soup is going to get cold, idiot."

You stared at him a little longer, before leaning down and pressing your lips against his forehead.

You pulled out your cellphone to call your mom when a hand gripped your wrist, tugging you back. Letting out a yelp, you felt yourself bounce slightly as you hit the bed. "What are you doing, Ahobe!" You demanded, feeling your cheeks heat up. "I thought you were resting!"

"You were too loud, how do you expect Ore-sama to get any rest?" Atobe asked, and you felt your eye twitch.

"Atobe... I swear to god, if you don't sleep I will knock you out and force you to rest. We both know I was not being loud." You fumed slightly, trying to subtly tug your wrist out of his grip. "Has the cold gone to your head? Let go, I have to go home and we have school tomorrow. Rest up."

"You seem awfully eager to leave," he murmured.

"You..." You growl, "I don't want to catch your cold! So either eat something and sleep or magically get better in the next five minutes—"

Your eyes widened, staring into his smug grey ones, and your heart thudded hard in your chest—

"A-Atobe!" You smacked him and rolled away, only to fall off the bed. "O-ow..." you winced, rubbing your head.

"Idiot, why'd you do that? Now you're going to have a bruise."

"B-because you...!" You stuttered, lips tingling. Atobe smirks at you, and that's when he finally takes the bowl of soup from the tray. You're amazed he can look so elegant eating soup with a fever. But then again, he is Atobe.

"If I get a cold I'm suing you."

"We both know you won't do that."

"...dammit you're probably right." Atobe smirks.

"They say idiots don't catch colds." Your eye twitched.

"I hope you get sicker." You seethe. When he's not looking, you gently press your fingers to your lips, torn between kissing him again or hitting him over the head to knock some more sense into him.

"Baka-Atobe..."

"Ahn? Did you say something?"

"N-no! Just... argh! Eat your soup and get better! I'm leaving!" You say, cheeks pink as you walk to the door.

"[Name]," Atobe says, and you pause, hand around the doorknob. "Thank you." He says, and your eyes widen. You can't help the smile that appears on your face.

"Your welcome, Atobe." You smile widely at him before exiting, shutting the door behind you. Outside his room, your hands are pressed against your cheeks, a light, warm feeling in your chest. You never knew two words could make your heart feel so full.