The warm afternoon saw them relaxing under a tree. Saruhiko had decided that since they had started the day in such a lazy manner, they should continue it in that way. Frankly, he was still drowsy and all he wanted to do was to keep holding Misaki's warmth close to him. It was comforting in a way he'd never felt before.

As Misaki rambled on about his short life before he was enslaved, Saruhiko considered his relationship with the kitsune. It had easily been half a year since they'd started to live under the same roof. And during that half a year, he'd felt the ice he perennially kept around his heart begin to melt.

It wasn't that Misaki was extremely affectionate. In fact, it was the complete opposite. A corner of Saruhiko's mouth quirks up as he remembers the time Misaki all but dragged him out of bed and into the bath, berating him and threatening him with starvation. So, no, it wasn't Misaki being overly affectionate.

It wasn't that Misaki tried to win his affections either. It was more of him watching from the side-lines, quietly observing his Master, occasionally passing comments. Sure, he got the occasional look of concern hidden behind the naturally slightly prickly exterior of the kitsune and while he himself bottled up his emotions, the flashes in Misaki's amber eyes were hardly lost on him. And he did find himself unconsciously changing his habits, as if he wanted to stop that concerned or hurt look from appearing in Misaki's eyes. Those eyes should always be filled with the warmth of a midsummer's day and never have to reflect hurt or pain.

He felt Misaki leaning into him and he took the kitsune into his arms, allowing him to rest his head against his chest. He's struck by a thought.

"Misaki, you were born in summer right? Your birthday must be coming soon."

Misaki raised his head to answer. "Not that soon. I was born in late summer. That would make it the twentieth of next month."

Saruhiko hummed as he pet Misaki's head. They could stay like this for a little longer. It was almost sunset before Misaki declared that it was time for dinner and dragged Saruhiko back to the house.

Saruhiko had become so used to Misaki waking him up that he rarely got out of bed before he was dragged out. This was one of those mornings. He assumed that he'd woken up unusually early and he'd be pummelled with a pillow sooner or later. He was proven wrong when his stomach growled for food and he opened his eyes to see sunlight streaming in the windows. It had to be close to noon.

Overcome by concern, he rushed to Misaki's room to discover him curled up in blankets, occasionally emitting a whimper.

"Misaki! Are you okay?" Saruhiko pulled the blanket back to expose Misaki's face. He could feel heat emanating from him even before touching his skin.

"Misaki, you're burning up."

"Tell me something I don't know," Misaki gritted out. "Saruhiko… make it stop… it hurts," he whined. His ears were flat against his head as he turned watery amber eyes onto Saruhiko.

Saruhiko pulled him into a hug, stroking his head. "Shh, you'll be fine. I'm here for you. I'll bring you to my room and you can sleep there, okay?"

At a slight nod from Misaki, he gently removed the blanket before picking him up. Misaki wrapped his arms around his neck and leaned his forehead against him. For a moment, he seemed so small and frail and Saruhiko's protective side kicked in as he carried him to his room.

He tucked him in and went to pick out a small towel from his cupboard before going to fetch a small bowl to fill with cold water. He dabbed at Misaki's forehead, hoping to bring the temperature down even a little. He fervently prayed that Misaki would get better. He'd become rather attached to the kitsune, more than he'd like to admit.

As soon as Misaki had fallen into a restless sleep, Saruhiko slipped down to the kitchen to prepare some broth. From experience, he knew that a sick person wouldn't be able to keep down much more. He recalled his own bouts of fever from when he was still a child and waking up intermittently to Reisi and Seri taking it in turns to feed him warm broth and gruel.

He brought the broth back to his room and gently woke Misaki up to pile more pillows behind him to support his back as he sat up. Misaki was unusually subdued as he opened his mouth for every spoonful of broth, his eyes glazed over with pain. After he'd gotten through half the bowl, it was Saruhiko's turn to force Misaki to finish his food. Once Misaki had every last drop of broth, Saruhiko set the bowl down on his writing desk and slowly lowered Misaki back to lying on his back before mopping his forehead with the towel again.

He sent out a messenger pigeon to Reisi with a short note telling him that he wouldn't be in the court for the next few days as he tended to Misaki before grabbing a book to read. He didn't want to be far from Misaki so that he could watch over him.

He was barely under the covers before Misaki was snuggling up to his lap, occasionally whimpering. Saruhiko lowered one hand to rest on Misaki's head protectively. He felt so helpless, being unable to help Misaki and abate his pain. He wished that he could be the one to bear the fever instead of Misaki. Misaki should be happy and cheerful, not whimpering as pain wracked his small body.

Saruhiko has never shown he cares this much about anyone before. While he does cherish his relationships with Reisi and Seri, having been raised alongside them, he has never allowed his frozen heart to melt. Beyond caring about them as the closest he has to family, he never showed any emotion. His stoicism when Reisi's father died was proof of that. While he'd been the one to comfort Reisi and let him cry on his shoulder, his emotionless mask stayed intact. He was the voice of reason steadying the new King through his grief. Emotions were weak, and Saruhiko could not be weak when he needed to be the strength supporting those he cared about.

Yet, he'd been proven wrong by the young kitsune next to him. Misaki had come into his life bursting at the seams with emotions. Somehow, Saruhiko had learnt to allow himself moments of weakness and simply let his emotions go. He'd held Misaki through storms and allowed himself to show care and concern. Misaki had supported him with his emotions, and in a way, he'd set Saruhiko free. The mask Saruhiko wore was slipping, and he was close to abandoning it altogether. The warmth that the kitsune brought to his life was something he'd never experienced before and he wanted it. He wanted it so badly.

It was evening when he woke Misaki up for a bath. The kitsune was still too weak to stand, so Saruhiko carried him to the bath before stripping him and helping him wash. He could only assume the cool water was as soothing to Misaki as it usually was to him and he hoped that if nothing else, this would help break Misaki's fever. He dried Misaki and dressed him in clean clothes before carrying him back to bed. He warmed up some broth and fed Misaki again. His eyes were slightly clearer this time and Saruhiko hoped that this was a good sign.

Once Misaki was dozing again, Saruhiko washed up and had his own bath before boiling water to brew a herbal tea for Misaki. He threw in some feverfew, thyme and lavender he had in his store, praying that he remembered Seri's instructions correctly.

He slipped under the covers to give Misaki his tea. Misaki accepted it gratefully, nursing the brew as Saruhiko held him close. Saruhiko set the mug on the floor near the leg of his bed where he was sure he wouldn't step on it in the morning. Before he could lie down, Misaki pulled him into a hug.

"Thank you," was muffled into his chest as Misaki rested his burning forehead there.

Saruhiko nuzzled his head in reply. This was the most he'd allow himself to admit his affection for Misaki. He'd come to cherish his presence and maybe, just maybe, he liked Misaki far more than he would admit to himself.

The next day saw them in pretty much the same routine. Saruhiko fed Misaki warm broth and wiped his forehead with a cool towel. That night, however, was when things took a turn. When Saruhiko climbed into bed, he was slammed onto his back with Misaki straddling him. Slightly alarmed, he noted the feral light in his eyes.

"Misaki, wha–"

"I need you," Misaki cut him off.

Saruhiko assessed the situation. Wait. Oh. "Misaki, you're in heat, aren't you?"

That would definitely explain the fever. Belatedly, Saruhiko remembered the kitsune lore he'd heard when with Reisi when he was younger. Kitsune typically reached maturity at twenty and their first heat would usually be preceded by an extreme bout of fever, just like the soaring temperatures Misaki faced the previous day.

A flush crept into Misaki's cheeks as he nodded. He looked away, embarrassed even as he moved his hips slightly to a sharp intake of breath from Saruhiko.

Saruhiko would be lying if he said he didn't want Misaki. Desire mounting, he flipped their positions as Misaki squirmed beneath him.

"Saruhiko, I need you," he whimpered. "Now."

That night, Saruhiko gave Misaki everything, and he took everything in return. Misaki was above him, under him, surrounding him with fox-fire. He drank in everything, Misaki's scent, his soft moans and sharp cries, memorising the feel of the smaller body. Primal instinct ruled that night before they curled together, exhausted.

A thought suddenly crossed Saruhiko's mind and he pressed a kiss to Misaki's head. "Happy Birthday, Misaki."

Misaki hummed in response and curled his tail around Saruhiko. They slept like that, limbs so tangled with one another that no one could tell where human ended and kitsune began. And just like that, they were one.


A/N: Prompt for Saruhiko taking care of Misaki when he has a fever from Sque-Fangirl and prompt for heat from TILAgal.

Updates for this, Revolve and new stories may not be so frequent any more. My college term starts again next week and as much as I hate starting the new year with a backlog of work, I have more assignments than time to finish them. OTL (may the teachers have mercy on my soul)

Oh, and do leave a review. I don't bite even if my zodiac animal is a dog.