"I can't believe you can remember all of that, Nowaki," Hiroki mumbled in the crook of his folded arms as he laid belly-down on top of the sheets. His bare bottom was positively throbbing, and that morning he hadn't even been able to pull on a pair of boxers without being in unbearable pain. In the end, a cool, wet towel had to be draped over his backside in an attempt to soothe Hiroki's agony.

However, Nowaki, who would've usually been energetic after a night of such rough sex, had his own situation to deal with.

"How could I forget?" Nowaki said, his voice gravelly with sickness. He was lying beside Hiroki in the bed, a pan sitting beside his pillow. Hiroki resurfaced from his elbows to peer at his lover, who was pale and slightly sweaty as his raspy breathing filled the air. "You came so hard that you passed out, Hiro-san. That's a huge boost to my ego, you know."

"Fuck you, idiot! You passed out, too!" Hiroki barked, flushing scarlet. Nowaki chuckled breathily, shutting his shadow-rimmed eyes.

"Ugh, I'm so glad I have the day off today," Nowaki moaned, running a hand through his stringy bed hair. "I'm never drinking again, Hiro-san."

"That's what everyone says. How much do you wanna bet you'll be drinking again next time one of your hospital friends come over?"

Nowaki opened his mouth to respond, but instead he let out a little burp.

"Shit, hold that thought, Hiro-san," Nowaki groaned, sitting up and turning away from Hiroki. He sat on the edge of the bed, cradling the pan in his arms as he retched into it. Hiroki sighed and dragged his body towards Nowaki with his arms, unable to move his legs. He reached up to clumsily hold Nowaki's hair back.

"Oh, Nowaki, Nowaki, Nowaki. You and I are a sight for sore eyes," Hiroki muttered exasperatedly. Craning his neck, he pressed his lips sympathetically to Nowaki's elbow.

If anyone knew how to smirk while puking, it was Nowaki.

"Jeez, how much did I drink last night?" he asked when he finished. He spit into the pan for extra measure.

"Enough to let that Takahashi brat dry hump you," Hiroki said bitterly. Nowaki snapped his gaze to his smaller lover, furrowing his ebony eyebrows.

"Eh? That wasn't you?" Nowaki asked. Hiroki gaped at him.

"Wow, should I be relieved that you're such a gigantic idiot, or hurt that you'd mistake a kid for your own lover?" Hiroki asked wryly, narrowing his eyes.

"I'd rather you be relieved that I'm an idiot," Nowaki sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Hiroki pouted, but his sharp gaze softened when Nowaki whimpered and clutched his stomach. Oh well, the big oaf was suffering enough for his actions.

"If you take me out tomorrow night for dinner, I'll overlook it, just this once," Hiroki said, shyly hiding behind a pillow. Nowaki chortled and patted Hiroki's bare back.

"Of course, Hiro-san."

Hiroki opened his mouth to say something more when he heard the door to their apartment open.

"I'm back!" called the voice of Misaki.

"We're still in the bedroom," Hiroki called back. He turned to Nowaki, giggling slightly as his sick lover furrowed his brow and stuck out his lower lip.

When Misaki had woken up without a hangover earlier that Saturday morning, he had immediately went to work on both Nowaki and Hiroki, making sure they were both comfortable. Misaki had claimed to know what Hiroki was going through, and had treated him with utmost kindness. Nowaki, however, had only gotten a pan and a spoonful of a foul-tasting medicine.

"Get that look off your face, Nowaki," Hiroki teased. "Be polite."

"I wanted to be the one to soothe your pain," Nowaki whined childishly. "I'm the doctor."

Hiroki burst into laughter just as Misaki swept into the room, a plastic bag in his hand.

"I brought a hot patch for you, Kamijou-san. And I got some hangover pills for you, Nowaki. I also got some aromatherapy bath soap for you, Sensei, in case you wanted to take a bath," Misaki said, unloading his bag onto the bed. Hiroki raised his eyebrows, pleasantly surprised.

"Oh wow, Takahashi-kun. Thanks. You didn't have to do all of that for us," Hiroki said appreciatively, reaching out to retrieve the hot patch.

"It was my pleasure," Misaki said cheerfully. "Thanks again for letting me stay over and having a few drinks with me last night! I feel five hundred times better!"

Hiroki suppressed a snicker as he saw Nowaki cringe with the stabs to his masculinity that Misaki was inadvertently serving. Hiroki was honestly impressed with the boy's drinking stamina. However, there was one flaw in Misaki's drinking ability that was beneficiary to Hiroki's dignity. As if Hiroki and Nowaki weren't already lucky to have a healthy person in the house to take care of them, they had also been blessed with the fact that Misaki remembered nothing from the night before.

Meaning he had no recollection of the sound of the headboard banging against the wall, the pleasured screams coming from the bedroom, and, to Hiroki's relief, the vulgar lap dance the brat had given his lover.

"Thanks again, Takahashi-kun. Feel free to help yourself to anything you can find in the kitchen, it'll be our treat. I think I'm going to make use of this bath soap," Hiroki said with a small grin. Misaki smiled back at him, bowing slightly.

"You're very welcome," he said before exiting the room. Hiroki glanced up at Nowaki, who was pouting yet again.

"I wish I had gotten bath soap," Nowaki hinted. Hiroki smirked, shaking his head.

"You don't need any, because I'm sharing. I need someone to help me into the bath, anyway," Hiroki said, pursing his lips as he looked up at a beaming Nowaki.

Hiroki sighed in content as he was once more reminded of how nice it was to have a two-person bath. He hadn't been too thrilled about it at first when Nowaki told him of the benefits of getting an apartment with a large tub, but now…

"Mmm, this feels really nice," Hiroki murmured as shut his eyes and leaned against Nowaki's shoulder, tracing slow circles across his lover's chest. It turned out that his bottom still hurt so bad that he couldn't even sit on the submerged ledge in the tub. He had resorted to sitting in Nowaki's soft lap, encased in his strong arms. It was still quite painful, but Hiroki was satisfied nonetheless.

"Yeah, it feels great. My nausea's pretty much gone," Nowaki replied, tipping his head back and resting it on the wall behind him. Hiroki lazily brought a cloud of scented bubbles over to him and prodded absentmindedly at it, making random bubble statues and watching them collapse.

"Look, Nowaki, I made a-" Hiroki began excitedly when one of his creations had taken on an interesting shape. However, when he looked up at Nowaki, his russet eyes were met by a shimmering cobalt gaze that drew him in like a moth to a lamplight. Without prompt, Hiroki expectantly closed his eyes and parted his lips. He wasn't left waiting for long, and soft lips pressed to his, moving gently. A strong hand cupped the nape of Hiroki's neck, bringing him in closer. Hiroki's arms acted on their own, slithering up Nowaki's chest and wrapping instinctively around his neck.

When Nowaki pulled away, Hiroki gazed up at him with half-lidded, darkened eyes, his reddened lips still slightly puckered.

"I lo-" Nowaki began, but Hiroki unhooked one arm from his neck to press a finger to his lover's lips, silencing him.

"I know. I can see it in your eyes, and I can taste it in your kisses. I can feel it in your hands when you hold me," Hiroki whispered, color rising in his cheeks. He lowered his finger and Nowaki burst into a huge smile.

"I love having a literature professor as my lover!" Nowaki exclaimed. Hiroki scowled at him.

"What are you talking about?"

"Because everything that comes out of your mouth is like poetry. That was beautiful, Hiro-san. You're beautiful," Nowaki cooed, making a kissy face and leaning towards Hiroki as his little lover's blush spread across his face and down his chest.

"Who's the poet here?" Hiroki barked, grabbing the rinsing cup from the shelf and filling it with water. He dumped it over Nowaki's head, but the idiot boy only grinned even wider. Hiroki threw the cup down with a flourish, crossing his arms over his chest and puffing up his cheeks.

"It's hard to take you seriously when you're naked and in the bathtub playing with bubbles," Nowaki commented. Before Hiroki could protest, Nowaki grabbed the rinsing cup and dumped a cupful of water over Hiroki's head. Hiroki sputtered, flailing in Nowaki's lap and slapping blindly at whatever he could get his hands on. Nowaki laughed heartily as Hiroki whined and tried to wipe the soap out of his eyes.

"You're unfair, I didn't put soap bubbles in yours!" Hiroki shouted as rivulets of water ran down his face. He froze and stopped splashing, however, as a big hand rested on his belly and rubbed in slow circles. Hiroki could only slump against his lover's chest, his body tingling with the sensations of Nowaki's tender hand.

Hiroki suddenly realized, with a start, that Nowaki was the only person besides himself that he could tolerate touching his stomach. Both Akihiko and Miyagi had been slapped away in defense when they had tried to touch his abdomen. Nowaki's hand was different, though. It was big. Warm. Comforting. Gentle.

Safe.

"Nowaki," Hiroki whispered, reaching down into the water to place his little hand on Nowaki's. He guided Nowaki's deliberate circles across his skin, and the surge of love and adoration he felt from his lover's touch was nearly mind-blowing. It was so strong that Hiroki's next words were caught in his throat, and all he could do was nuzzle the top of his head against Nowaki's chin.

"What is it?" Nowaki asked softly, tipping his head down to plant a kiss on Hiroki's temple.

"This baby," Hiroki began, pausing to press down on Nowaki's hand. "Is going to love you so much."