Distractions

Haruhi is remembering with nostalgia the time when Tamaki was sick.

As it was happening, she hadn't harbored any fond feelings regarding the incident (other than mortification at the kiss on the cheek), but now, staring into livid, fevered gray eyes, she almost wishes she could redo that bit of history.

Almost.

"I have to finish the program for Douga-san!" his scratchy voice insists. When he rises up on one elbow, Haruhi places her palm flat on the middle of his chest and pushes, winning only because his balance is so distorted by nausea.

He tries to fend her off, but Haruhi ignores this, paying more attention to the lunch tray on the bedside table, grateful she has set it there, rather than on his lap.

It would have made a spectacular mess, in addition to all kinds of clean up that they're both too tired for.

Scowling at being unable to get up, Kyouya reaches under the mounds of pillows Fuyumi has set up behind him.

Haruhi gives a satisfied smirk while his back is turned, though she knows it won't last.

When he goes still, she doesn't imagine he has fallen asleep; instead she composes her face into blank ignorance.

A furious face turns her way.

"Where. Is. My. COMPUTER!"

The door cracks open at the end of his roar; Fuyumi-neesan is smiling.

"Kyouya, your visitors are here!"

Haruhi breathes a silent sigh of relief, and slips out of the room between Tamaki's offerings of commoner's remedies and Honey's list of newly discovered cake flavors.

Haruhi hates using money for frivolous reasons, but has decided: next time, she's hiring a nurse to attend him.