Theme: Theme Eighteen - Drunk at smmonthly; #60 - Drink.
Genre: Humor
Version: Crystal Tokyo/AU
Rating: PG-13
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Kittens and Open Heart Surgery
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Sniffle. Sniffle. Cough. Sniffle. Zoicite stopped finger combing his curls to duck his head around the bathroom door. Sniffle. Sniffle. It seemed to be running in a vicious cycle. Cough. Sniffle. He frowned, staring into the bedroom with mild concern. When was the last time he'd been sick? It was hard to catch a cold when you're in a semi-tangible form, trapped inside of a rock. He wondered: Could he even get sick? Apparently, the senshi could.
Ami didn't bother to look up from her book, her hand instinctively finding her haphazardly thrown handkerchief on the nightstand next to a glass of water. Daintily, she dabbed her nose and muffled a light cough. She didn't seem too worried, but did happen to look a little frustrated when one cough turned into two, until finally she let her book fall into her lap with a dull thud so she could clamp both hands over her mouth to quell the tidal wave of gasping coughs that didn't seem to want to stop until she took a sip of water. As she set her glass back down, her eyes flicked up and then down, and then back up again, zeroing in on Zoicite.
"Am I bothering you?" she asked.
It took him a moment to decide if she was being sarcastic or not. That was his fault, teasing too much. The man who always cried "bother." Her face was neutral, though, studying his reaction. He slipped back into the bathroom to give himself a moment. When she stared at him like that, calculating and curious, he always felt like she could see right through him.
"Maybe," he replied. Bracing himself against the sink, he gave himself one last once over. His hair was still wet, curling in thick, fair clumps over his bare shoulders. His skin looked a little too pale in the dim lamp lighting, but that was normal.
"This stupid cold popped up this afternoon." Ami had her head resting back against the wooden headboard of their bed, her eyes squeezed shut and her fingers lighting dancing over pressure points in her face, when Zoicite finally removed himself from the bathroom. It gave him a moment to really assess how not normal she looked. The olive undertone of her pale skin had turned a sickly yellow, and dark circles were starting to form under her eyes. Her nose was tinged red, which Zoicite would have thought was actually kind of cute if she didn't look absolutely miserable. "I've tried everything. I haven't been sick in years, and then BAM!" Her eyes opened, and she slapped her book shut, pegging him with a slightly irate stare. "Of course, it had to happen now, when I'm at the peak of my workload," she muttered.
He paused, trying to keep his face absolutely blank. "So, you did take something, then?"
"Yes," she sighed. "About an hour ago. Maybe it just needs a bit longer to kick in."
Flopping down on her side of the bed, next to her slender legs, he stared at her intently. "I hope so. I can't sleep with you sniffling and snorting all night," he said, widening his eyes innocently. "I need my beauty sleep, you know."
"I can always sleep in another room," she scowled, slipping her glasses off her nose. "God forbid my illness is an inconvenience to you."
"Don't be ridiculous!" Zoicite scoffed. "Just take something else."
"I don't like to mix my medications more than I have to," Ami said pointedly.
Her ire was lost on Zoicite, though, as he had already disappeared back into the bathroom. A second later, he was back, sitting a little closer with a Cheshire grin and a bottle of cough syrup in his hand.
"What'd you take to begin with?" he asked.
"Just a decongestant and some other nighttime cold medication," answered Ami, her eyes trained nervously on the cough syrup. "I don't like that stuff. I don't like the way it makes me feel. That's all yours. You enjoy it."
"What? You don't like feeling well?" He shook the bottle, sending the red liquid crashing thickly against the plastic sides.
Ami pouted. "I just don't like it. I know how my body reacts to it, and it's not necessary. I went to medical school and---"
"Well, I would have gone to medical school, too, if I hadn't been napping in a chunk of crystal," he interrupted. "That would have been my first choice of a career path." Actually, underwear model was placed somewhat higher than world renown physician, but she didn't have to know that. "And I'd probably still be insisting you just cowboy up and take a nice big swig of this stuff even if I had gone, because alternate remedies are for people who don't get directly to the point." He tipped the bottle top in her direction. "Like you." He smirked. "You're just dragging this out. Don't be a martyr."
"I am not being a martyr!" growled Ami. Her face was flushed red, though whether it was from her obvious anger or from the sudden onset of a fever it was hard to tell. "And while you probably have the mind to be a brilliant doctor, you're too much of a drama queen to really be effective. Like now. "
"Come on," he begged. "Be a dear. Just a little sip." She shook her head. "Come on. Come on..."
They stared each other down. Ami crossed her arms stubbornly across her chest, tapping her glasses against the bed sheets. Zoicite simply leaned closer, smiling at her every five seconds before letting his face fall, as if to show the difference between compliance and having it her own way. Happy Zoicite. Sad Zoicite. Happy Zoicite. Sad Zoicite. Happy Zoicite. Sad Zoi--
"Oh fine!" Tossing her glasses and book onto her nightstand, Ami grabbed the cough syrup out of his hand, unscrewed the lid, and took tiny, measured sips until she felt she'd endured the correct dosage.
Zoicite's smile turned smug, and he gave her a sloppy kiss on her forehead before relieving her of the medicine she was making faces at. For a second, he let his cheek rest against her skin. He probably knew her body almost as intimately as she did, and was pleased to find it wasn't too warm. Good. Sure, it was just a cold, but Ami was so stubborn, minimizing everything. Her skin looked so clammy...
He hated to feel worried, so he made sure he took his time putting the cough syrup back in its rightful place in the cabinet next to the sink. It gave him a moment to reason with the more paranoid part of his brain that was ranking a simple case of the sniffles up with consumption, cancer, and lupus. No one had ever keeled over dead from a cold.
Right? Maybe? Unless it was really the flu. Oh god. Now, that would change everything.
When he slipped into bed, Ami was curled on her side, and as the mattress shifted she rolled herself more violently, stealing most of the blanket coverage. Zoicite felt a little better. If she was well enough to be angry, then she'd be okay. Anger he could deal with. Having her look positively miserable and weak, he could not.
"'Thank you, Zoicite, for tending to me in my time of need, even though I'm being a huge baby about it,'" he prompted, slipping a pair of reading glasses up his nose. He stared at her over the rims, feeling amused.
Ami grunted, reaching back with her hand to pat his stomach. It would have been a kind, grateful gesture if her fingers weren't ice cold against his bare skin. Zoicite yelped, jerking away. Balling her body up again, Ami's shoulders were shaking, as if trying to muffle laughter.
"Oh, that's fine," Zoicite grumbled, yanking back a bit of the comforter. "If that's how you want to be."
When she didn't respond, Zoicite switched his light on and picked up his own book. He stuck a pencil behind his ear with a flourish, and settled in for some pleasure reading. Well, what he called pleasure reading, anyway. Jadeite had been trying to get him to read a bestselling series that vaguely reminded him of a few cowboy novels he'd picked up a few years ago, but when an upcoming political scientist came out with another rambling, rather pathetic attempt at explaining and predicting his foreign policy, he just couldn't resist. The current writer really wasn't too far off, but he wasn't giving the whole system enough credit -- corruption this, idealist that. Zoicite tapped his pencil against the page he'd stopped on, before making a dark line down the margin. He underlined a few choice words and then dog-eared it. Kunzite might like that theory. Packed with cynicism and realist values.
It'd been almost an hour, and Zoicite had completely forgotten about the cough syrup squabble. Ami had been quiet, shifting slightly in her sleep until her warm body was pressed against his thigh. When he stretched, he felt her stir, but figured he wasn't disturbing her. Maybe the medication had finally kicked in and she'd sleep deeply for the rest of the night.
With that in mind, it was slightly unsettling when he set his book in his lap to mark another passage, and noticed Ami's wide, blue eyes staring up at him with an unreadable expression.
"Did I wake you?" he asked, waiting for her to ask him to turn his light off and go to sleep. She didn't respond, though. Blinking once and then twice, she seemed a little dazed. He frowned. "Ami?"
Her hand reached out, carefully petting the long, golden curls that fell over his shoulder. Zoicite took off his glasses, peering critically down at her face. It looked slightly flushed, and her eyes were glassy, almost unfocused. His heart jumped up into his throat. Rubbing his hand along the comforter, he warmed it first with friction before he pressed it to her forehead and cheeks, trailing down her neck and then back up to cup her face. Letting out a breath he hadn't really been aware he'd been holding, his mouth twisted up into a smile. She didn't feel hot. She wasn't running a fever.
"How're you feeling?" he asked.
Instantly, Ami started giggling, softly at first, but slowly growing until it was slightly hysterical.
"I really like your hair," she said in between her laughter, her fingers still tangled in his curls.
He couldn't help it. It was apparent she was a little loopy. Zoicite started to laugh with her. He felt a little silly, but the giddy, over animated look on her face was something new and almost absurd.
"You're a tad schnockered, aren't you, darling?" he chuckled. He kept her head in his hands as she sat up, leaning almost unnecessarily close to his face until their noses touched.
Slowly, she nodded, a large grin spread across her face.
"I love you," she slurred fondly.
"I love you!" Zoicite was almost beside himself with glee. No wonder she hadn't wanted to take the cough syrup. Ami was against almost anything that impaired her normally firm, unbreakable barrier of reserve.
Nuzzling into his neck, her movements were clumsy and awkward. It was obvious not much thought was going into anything in particular, and her limbs weren't exactly paying attention to what her hazy brain was telling them. One moment, she was playing with his hair, and the next she was tracing a wobbly line down his nose.
"You're very pretty," she told him seriously.
"Thank you," he grinned, his book tossed to the side and forgotten now.
Looking pleased with herself, Ami all but crawled into his lap, her arms hanging lazily around his neck. Zoicite shifted a little, wondering if he should be enjoying himself as much as he was. It was painfully obvious Ami was fighting through a medicated haze, and he knew she was sick. He didn't want to make her feel worse, and frankly, a fumbling, thoughtless Ami was just not the same as her sober, quick witted counterpart. He rather liked the later the best, even though his body wasn't exactly differentiating from the two at that specific moment. Her skin was warm and soft under his fingers, and she squirmed as she straddled him, inciting a very familiar pull below the belt that made him groan.
"Whoa, okay!" With uncharacteristic self restraint, Zoicite rolled her back to her side of the bed. Ami didn't seem the least bit perturbed, just giddy and curious. "I think it's time to go back to sleep now," suggested Zoicite. His voice had a slight edge to it, as he was trying to keep one of her hands away from the draw strings of his pants.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because you need rest. You're sick." And a little doped up.
"M'not tired."
"Yes, you are."
"No. I'm not. I don't need to." For a minute, he thought she might stick her tongue out at him like a child.
"Alright. Convince me. Give me one good reason you don't need to go back to bed."
She looked up at him through half-lidded, grave eyes. "Okay," she began, her tone serious. "Because Plato and Machiavelli are discussing corporatism and the big bang, and if I'm not there Luna doesn't get to see the importance of molecules. Everyone should know the importance of molecules, especially when it comes to Gray's Anatomy and Canadian slang. Because I've found when you don't pay attention to the light bulbs, the reference and contemporary fiction sections of the library have to be separated so they don't get mad at each other. And I'll have you know that Shakespeare only hates cheese, because the curdling hurts his ears! Don't make me beg to Einstein and Buddha! They met in Junior High when Usagi-chan ate a rice ball, and I don't speak Dutch!"
There was a tense silence as Zoicite did nothing but look at Ami with a mixture of concern, tentative amusement, and utter confusion.
"Love, I think you just lost this argument," he said slowly. What the hell was in that cough syrup, anyway? LSD?
Ami frowned. Obviously, whatever she said had made perfect sense to her. "Why?"
"Because I think you're drugged out of your mind!"
"I am not!" Her indignation made her seem almost normal. "You're drugged off your rocker!" Almost being the key word.
Zoicite didn't know whether to laugh or feel distressed anymore. "Go to sleep, Ami. You'll feel better."
"Why?"
They stared at each other. Zoicite sighed, raising an eyebrow questioningly. It was worth a shot.
"Well, obviously because Mercury will start orbiting Pluto, and the kittens are performing open heart surgery in about eight hours while blindfolded and singing show tunes," he answered, trying to keep a straight face.
Ami seemed to consider this carefully.
"And the Schrödinger equation?" she asked.
"Sure?" Zoicite offered, feeling a little confused as to where this tangent was going.
It seemed to satisfy Ami, though. She sighed and rolled away from him, muttering something about hydrogen. It only took a moment before her eyelids fluttered shut, and her breathing slowed. Zoicite stayed completely still, and tried to formulate the strangest, most inane responses he could come up with in case she woke up again.
After twenty minutes, though, he felt safe enough to bend over the side of the bed and scoop his book off the floor where he'd thrown it. He scanned the passages, not really retaining anything.
Don't make me beg to Einstein and Buddha! They met in Junior High when Usagi-chan ate a rice ball, and I don't speak Dutch!
Slipping a bookmark into the pages, Zoicite finally let himself succumb to the hilarity of the whole exchange. His shoulders shook with silent laughter, and when he finally set his book on the nightstand and turned off his light, he had to bite his pillow to muffle his snorting chuckles.
He wondered if Ami would remember anything in the morning. Part of him hoped she wouldn't. After all, he thought with a smile, he was going to have a lot of fun reenacting it for everyone at breakfast.