***********************
"I'm fine!" The normally subdued tones of the swordsman's voice were now raised in a hoarse cry of indignation.
"You even admitted yourself earlier that you had a cold!" Shin's exasperated voice carried over the protests.
Touma almost smirked as he carried the precarious tray of tea up the stairs- almost, but didn't quite because soon he would be thrown back into the melee as well.
Shin had come out of his room after finishing his first watercolor of the day, only to find Shuu and Touma plotting about finding a way to get to the chemist before any more snow came down or the place closed.
After that, Mother Shin was unstoppable.
The patient now had on sweatpants, sweatshirt, woolly socks, hot water bottle and two blankets to keep him warm, as well as the thermostat turned up, a humidifier on to help his breathing, a constant stream of broth and tea to keep him hydrated, and the last of the Tylenol shoved down his throat. Shuu had been sent out to procure the required drugs after shoveling the driveway the entire morning, while Touma was ordered about to fetch and prepare the ingredients necessary for nursing their fallen comrade back to health. Mother Shin ran a tight ship.
Seiji himself was expected to sit still and allow his temperature to be taken every hour, while being denied books and television because they might strain his eyes, and being denied music because it might give him a headache. His illness was obvious in the fact that his threats were easily brushed aside and all he could do was weakly lay there while the sanctity of his room was invaded and turned into a shrine for good health.
After sleeping most of the day, he was rested up and rearing for a fight- with what little voice he had left. His feverish objections to the smothering turned to outright denials of illness as he became delirious. Seiji Date did not get ill. Seiji Date was above such plights of mere mortals.
Touma sighed wearily, worried for his love, and gently pushed the door open, hoping to remain unseen for as long as possible.
"Ah, finally, another cup of tea! Good- the last one has grown cold," Shin maneuvered the tray out of Touma's hands and onto the nightstand, which had been cleared as a receiving stand for medicinal aid. "Now, all we need-"
He was cut off by the ringing of the phone out in the hallway.
"I'll get it," He volunteered, motioning Touma towards the tea tray. "It might be Shuu. . ."
As he hustled off to the hall, Touma sat quietly on the edge of the bed and surveyed Seiji's haggard appearance. The blonde was even paler than usual, but the tops of his cheekbones had a flushed look to them and there was a sheen of sweat filming over his skin. His eyes were closed and sunken, with dark bags underneath, and lines of discomfort had formed on his forehead. The raspy sound of his breathing alarmed the archer, but he forced himself to stay calm and project only serene images over their telepathic link.
Hesitantly, like the touch of a hummingbird, he brushed the sweat damp strands of loose hair from Seiji's face. The usually immaculately kept mane was in a complete disarray, knotted and tangled. He wanted nothing more than to get his comb and sit there running it through those golden locks until they gleamed, but he didn't think Seiji was up to it. It was a secret vice of his, his urge to touch the pale hair whenever possible, and the bearer of Korin was only too happy to let him indulge himself, for Seiji loved to have his hair stroked.
Even now the feather-light touch had his eyes blearily opening, searching for Touma. The argument with Shin had worn him out and he was tired again.
"I'm too hot. . ." He rasped out, for once asking his love for help. Touma nodded and lifted him to a sitting position, then tugged the sweatshirt over his unresisting head. The dark green t-shirt he wore underneath was damp with sweat. Touma tossed the offending sweatshirt into the hamper across the room.
"It's all right, love." Retrieving a wet washcloth from a bowl on the nightstand, he bathed the flushed face and willed him to cool down as if the very pressure of his thoughts could drive the fever and illness away. Seiji gripped his free hand fiercely when he stood slightly to reach for the bottle of fruit juice he had also brought up with the tea.
"Don't-" His violet eyes snapped open at the movement, but he didn't finish the sentence; the eyes told of his need for the archer's continued presence.
"I'm not going anywhere, Seiji." Touma tried to soothe him the best he could, coaxing him to drink the refreshingly cool juice, and had just gotten him settled down once more when Shin came in.
"That was Ryo, then Shuu on call waiting-" Torrent paused at the discarded shirt.
"He was too hot." Was all Touma said, but his tone dared the brit to challenge him where Seiji's comfort was concerned, so Shin just continued.
"Ryo said that they're going to spend the night at the ski lodge. Apparently while they were skiing Byakuen found a collapsed cave and Mia wants to explore it come light. I explained to him about Seiji and he wanted to come home, but I told him to stay." As he talked in a semi-whisper, he set about gathering tissues and straightening things a bit. "The two of them need some time to relax and enjoy themselves, although I reminded him to keep Mia bundled up."
"What was Shuu's call about?" Touma questioned softly. Seiji seemed to be dozing fitfully, but still clung to his hand.
"He bought NyQuil and Sudafed, but the junk-mobile's engine froze in just the few minutes he pent in the chemist's, so he's going to try fiddling with that to see if it will start and then call me back." Placing the dirty dishes on the tea tray, he motioned that he was going downstairs. "I'll wait for the call down in the kitchen so I can get it on the first ring."
Touma smiled as he left. Shin may sometimes smother them, but it was always out of love and concern.
Settling against the headboard, he nestled himself into the bed where he had spent so many wonderful nights over the past month. Sometimes he would wake in the middle of the night, afraid he was waking to another dream, and would lay there in the twilight listening to his lover's even breaths, tracing his stubborn jawline and delicate nose lightly with his fingers. If Seiji ever stirred, it would usually only be to throw an arm over him or pull him closer in his sleep.
This beautiful being before him was his life- this was his sanity and his salvation. Seiji knew everything about him, all the sordid details of his life, his shame and his defeat, yet the Ronin who always seemed so cold and aloof with others would look at him with love and empathy, sharing his pain yet pulling him above it. He gave him new memories to, if not replace the old ones, wash away their depravity with the strength of his conviction. In his eyes, Touma was worth saving.
Just that simple fact, knowing that someone could delve into his soul and want to stay there, gave Touma faith in himself for the first time in years. You could laugh to keep from screaming, smile to keep from crying, but you could never hide your lack of self respect. He let himself be a victim for so long because he didn't know what else he could be- even in the war with Talpa, fighting for his world and his friends, his bravado was faith in his armor to hide the fear that they might lose.
And even then he had been in love with Seiji, the aloof warrior he loved to tease and rile. They were just kids then, almost a decade ago, wise beyond their years. By the end of the war they seemed so much older. There was the confidence and arrogance- they had defeated evil and triumphed over the darker powers- but for Touma there was the insecurity and indecision. It had taken him years to finally muster the courage to go to Seiji and tell him his feelings, and the eventual rejection had torn away everything gained by their hard won battles and life or death struggles. The self respect he had cautiously built with each victory and advancement he made with Tenku crumbled. It reminded him that, in real life, Touma was just a scrawny nobody- the fight seemed like a different lifetime to him. He had needed Tenku to finally stand up proud, but that didn't change who he was. He had built his faith in lies.
He hated himself for that.
He was a rational, logical person who could design complete worlds with just his fingers and his brain, but he didn't have the first clue about living in the real one. He didn't know what love was like until he lost his, the deep despair that weighed heavy in his very soul.
But no more. He found his love once more, or his love found him more like it, and he would never let go. In those violet eyes he had found himself, too. They reflected back everything that Seiji loved about him, and perhaps one day he could learn to accept his faults as Seiji forgave them. He smiled. The swordsman always held himself and others to such high standards, yet he saw something in Touma that outweighed the archer's sins and let him place him among the elite few that held his respect.
For Seiji, he would face any danger with a calm heart and strive to make him proud. And so, for Seiji and his faith, he would face living and continue on with his life. He was not weak.
In the hall, the phone rang shrilly, pulling him from his reveries. He heard Shin faintlypick it up downstairs, and quickly checked to see if Seiji had been disturbed.
Looking down, he met glazed violet eyes that were focused intently on his face.
"You should be asleep, love." He whispered, barely moving his lips.
"I wanted to watch you." The words were genuine and unguarded, unlike Seiji's usual wary tones. "For a moment, you looked so sad I heard a choir of angels singing just like when maman would take me to church when I was a child. They would shuffle out to the front, in their blue and grey robes, young boys like me, and they would sit so perfectly still and sing like they were in the presence of God himself but could never achieve salvation. The notes would be so pure, but mournful, crying for all our sins. . ." His voice was hoarse and almost incoherent. The tangent made Touma uneasy; his fever was probably getting worse.
"Just hush, baby, and try to rest." Running his finger through the fine cornsilk hair, he watched as the eyes slowly drifted shut.
After a few minutes, he heard Shin on the stairs. He came in wearing his jacket and mittens, with his wool hat in hand.
"Shuu can't get the van to start, so is it all right if I borrow your car and try to get him?" Worry for the sick Ronin and the one out in the snow hummed along the telepathic link.
"Sure, whatever ya need. Take it. My keys are in my left jacket pocket." Like Touma would stop him from getting his love out in the freezing cold. "Just be careful driving- the roads are probably slick."
"Oh, don't worry. If I can drive in England, I can drive anywhere!" With that, he left and soon the click of the deadbolt was heard.
Touma sighed and settled back against the headboard. Seiji grimaced in his light sleep, no doubt dreaming as he always did with his empath abilities. The archer let his eyes drift shut, felt his consciousness expand until it felt like his mind was outside, in the cold chill of winter. He could sense the stars overhead, nearly visible in the fading day, waiting to shine down on earth. A movement from Seiji brought him back inside.
The swordsman clutched his hand and pulled him down with fevered strength. His eyes were barely open and Touma could hardly make out his words, but the intent was clear.
"Lie with me."
So he snuggled next to his love, too hot to stay under the blankets, and cradled his own angel in his arms
"I'm fine!" The normally subdued tones of the swordsman's voice were now raised in a hoarse cry of indignation.
"You even admitted yourself earlier that you had a cold!" Shin's exasperated voice carried over the protests.
Touma almost smirked as he carried the precarious tray of tea up the stairs- almost, but didn't quite because soon he would be thrown back into the melee as well.
Shin had come out of his room after finishing his first watercolor of the day, only to find Shuu and Touma plotting about finding a way to get to the chemist before any more snow came down or the place closed.
After that, Mother Shin was unstoppable.
The patient now had on sweatpants, sweatshirt, woolly socks, hot water bottle and two blankets to keep him warm, as well as the thermostat turned up, a humidifier on to help his breathing, a constant stream of broth and tea to keep him hydrated, and the last of the Tylenol shoved down his throat. Shuu had been sent out to procure the required drugs after shoveling the driveway the entire morning, while Touma was ordered about to fetch and prepare the ingredients necessary for nursing their fallen comrade back to health. Mother Shin ran a tight ship.
Seiji himself was expected to sit still and allow his temperature to be taken every hour, while being denied books and television because they might strain his eyes, and being denied music because it might give him a headache. His illness was obvious in the fact that his threats were easily brushed aside and all he could do was weakly lay there while the sanctity of his room was invaded and turned into a shrine for good health.
After sleeping most of the day, he was rested up and rearing for a fight- with what little voice he had left. His feverish objections to the smothering turned to outright denials of illness as he became delirious. Seiji Date did not get ill. Seiji Date was above such plights of mere mortals.
Touma sighed wearily, worried for his love, and gently pushed the door open, hoping to remain unseen for as long as possible.
"Ah, finally, another cup of tea! Good- the last one has grown cold," Shin maneuvered the tray out of Touma's hands and onto the nightstand, which had been cleared as a receiving stand for medicinal aid. "Now, all we need-"
He was cut off by the ringing of the phone out in the hallway.
"I'll get it," He volunteered, motioning Touma towards the tea tray. "It might be Shuu. . ."
As he hustled off to the hall, Touma sat quietly on the edge of the bed and surveyed Seiji's haggard appearance. The blonde was even paler than usual, but the tops of his cheekbones had a flushed look to them and there was a sheen of sweat filming over his skin. His eyes were closed and sunken, with dark bags underneath, and lines of discomfort had formed on his forehead. The raspy sound of his breathing alarmed the archer, but he forced himself to stay calm and project only serene images over their telepathic link.
Hesitantly, like the touch of a hummingbird, he brushed the sweat damp strands of loose hair from Seiji's face. The usually immaculately kept mane was in a complete disarray, knotted and tangled. He wanted nothing more than to get his comb and sit there running it through those golden locks until they gleamed, but he didn't think Seiji was up to it. It was a secret vice of his, his urge to touch the pale hair whenever possible, and the bearer of Korin was only too happy to let him indulge himself, for Seiji loved to have his hair stroked.
Even now the feather-light touch had his eyes blearily opening, searching for Touma. The argument with Shin had worn him out and he was tired again.
"I'm too hot. . ." He rasped out, for once asking his love for help. Touma nodded and lifted him to a sitting position, then tugged the sweatshirt over his unresisting head. The dark green t-shirt he wore underneath was damp with sweat. Touma tossed the offending sweatshirt into the hamper across the room.
"It's all right, love." Retrieving a wet washcloth from a bowl on the nightstand, he bathed the flushed face and willed him to cool down as if the very pressure of his thoughts could drive the fever and illness away. Seiji gripped his free hand fiercely when he stood slightly to reach for the bottle of fruit juice he had also brought up with the tea.
"Don't-" His violet eyes snapped open at the movement, but he didn't finish the sentence; the eyes told of his need for the archer's continued presence.
"I'm not going anywhere, Seiji." Touma tried to soothe him the best he could, coaxing him to drink the refreshingly cool juice, and had just gotten him settled down once more when Shin came in.
"That was Ryo, then Shuu on call waiting-" Torrent paused at the discarded shirt.
"He was too hot." Was all Touma said, but his tone dared the brit to challenge him where Seiji's comfort was concerned, so Shin just continued.
"Ryo said that they're going to spend the night at the ski lodge. Apparently while they were skiing Byakuen found a collapsed cave and Mia wants to explore it come light. I explained to him about Seiji and he wanted to come home, but I told him to stay." As he talked in a semi-whisper, he set about gathering tissues and straightening things a bit. "The two of them need some time to relax and enjoy themselves, although I reminded him to keep Mia bundled up."
"What was Shuu's call about?" Touma questioned softly. Seiji seemed to be dozing fitfully, but still clung to his hand.
"He bought NyQuil and Sudafed, but the junk-mobile's engine froze in just the few minutes he pent in the chemist's, so he's going to try fiddling with that to see if it will start and then call me back." Placing the dirty dishes on the tea tray, he motioned that he was going downstairs. "I'll wait for the call down in the kitchen so I can get it on the first ring."
Touma smiled as he left. Shin may sometimes smother them, but it was always out of love and concern.
Settling against the headboard, he nestled himself into the bed where he had spent so many wonderful nights over the past month. Sometimes he would wake in the middle of the night, afraid he was waking to another dream, and would lay there in the twilight listening to his lover's even breaths, tracing his stubborn jawline and delicate nose lightly with his fingers. If Seiji ever stirred, it would usually only be to throw an arm over him or pull him closer in his sleep.
This beautiful being before him was his life- this was his sanity and his salvation. Seiji knew everything about him, all the sordid details of his life, his shame and his defeat, yet the Ronin who always seemed so cold and aloof with others would look at him with love and empathy, sharing his pain yet pulling him above it. He gave him new memories to, if not replace the old ones, wash away their depravity with the strength of his conviction. In his eyes, Touma was worth saving.
Just that simple fact, knowing that someone could delve into his soul and want to stay there, gave Touma faith in himself for the first time in years. You could laugh to keep from screaming, smile to keep from crying, but you could never hide your lack of self respect. He let himself be a victim for so long because he didn't know what else he could be- even in the war with Talpa, fighting for his world and his friends, his bravado was faith in his armor to hide the fear that they might lose.
And even then he had been in love with Seiji, the aloof warrior he loved to tease and rile. They were just kids then, almost a decade ago, wise beyond their years. By the end of the war they seemed so much older. There was the confidence and arrogance- they had defeated evil and triumphed over the darker powers- but for Touma there was the insecurity and indecision. It had taken him years to finally muster the courage to go to Seiji and tell him his feelings, and the eventual rejection had torn away everything gained by their hard won battles and life or death struggles. The self respect he had cautiously built with each victory and advancement he made with Tenku crumbled. It reminded him that, in real life, Touma was just a scrawny nobody- the fight seemed like a different lifetime to him. He had needed Tenku to finally stand up proud, but that didn't change who he was. He had built his faith in lies.
He hated himself for that.
He was a rational, logical person who could design complete worlds with just his fingers and his brain, but he didn't have the first clue about living in the real one. He didn't know what love was like until he lost his, the deep despair that weighed heavy in his very soul.
But no more. He found his love once more, or his love found him more like it, and he would never let go. In those violet eyes he had found himself, too. They reflected back everything that Seiji loved about him, and perhaps one day he could learn to accept his faults as Seiji forgave them. He smiled. The swordsman always held himself and others to such high standards, yet he saw something in Touma that outweighed the archer's sins and let him place him among the elite few that held his respect.
For Seiji, he would face any danger with a calm heart and strive to make him proud. And so, for Seiji and his faith, he would face living and continue on with his life. He was not weak.
In the hall, the phone rang shrilly, pulling him from his reveries. He heard Shin faintlypick it up downstairs, and quickly checked to see if Seiji had been disturbed.
Looking down, he met glazed violet eyes that were focused intently on his face.
"You should be asleep, love." He whispered, barely moving his lips.
"I wanted to watch you." The words were genuine and unguarded, unlike Seiji's usual wary tones. "For a moment, you looked so sad I heard a choir of angels singing just like when maman would take me to church when I was a child. They would shuffle out to the front, in their blue and grey robes, young boys like me, and they would sit so perfectly still and sing like they were in the presence of God himself but could never achieve salvation. The notes would be so pure, but mournful, crying for all our sins. . ." His voice was hoarse and almost incoherent. The tangent made Touma uneasy; his fever was probably getting worse.
"Just hush, baby, and try to rest." Running his finger through the fine cornsilk hair, he watched as the eyes slowly drifted shut.
After a few minutes, he heard Shin on the stairs. He came in wearing his jacket and mittens, with his wool hat in hand.
"Shuu can't get the van to start, so is it all right if I borrow your car and try to get him?" Worry for the sick Ronin and the one out in the snow hummed along the telepathic link.
"Sure, whatever ya need. Take it. My keys are in my left jacket pocket." Like Touma would stop him from getting his love out in the freezing cold. "Just be careful driving- the roads are probably slick."
"Oh, don't worry. If I can drive in England, I can drive anywhere!" With that, he left and soon the click of the deadbolt was heard.
Touma sighed and settled back against the headboard. Seiji grimaced in his light sleep, no doubt dreaming as he always did with his empath abilities. The archer let his eyes drift shut, felt his consciousness expand until it felt like his mind was outside, in the cold chill of winter. He could sense the stars overhead, nearly visible in the fading day, waiting to shine down on earth. A movement from Seiji brought him back inside.
The swordsman clutched his hand and pulled him down with fevered strength. His eyes were barely open and Touma could hardly make out his words, but the intent was clear.
"Lie with me."
So he snuggled next to his love, too hot to stay under the blankets, and cradled his own angel in his arms