Back again! This one's called Sick. Lots of fluff, yet again. Also, a poor, sick Kiku. Enjoy!

The flu was a terrible, terrible thing. Damn whichever kami came up with it, Kiku would say. Every time he got it, which was almost annually, he felt completely miserable. He was bed-ridden, a bucket constantly at his side, almost always full of vomit (unless someone was around to clean it out). Wads of used tissues would lay carelessly on the ground, covered in a sickly green mucus. It was comparable to the plague sometimes; and Kiku knew what the plague felt like. Perhaps it was an exaggeration, but his head was too foggy and in too much pain to care.

Thankfully, this time around, Kiku had Yao around to take care of him when flu season hit like a vicious flight of locusts. The Chinese man constantly brought soup, hot tea, and strange smelling herbal remedies (not that Kiku could smell them in the first place) to his bedside. This brought some comfort through his sick haze. At least he had someone to clean the puke out of his bucket every hour or so. Plus, Yao was very old and practically immune to almost every sickness, so being around Kiku was no issue at all. He wasn't the least bit concerned about catching the flu.

Woken up from a moment of rest by his own loud coughing, Kiku reached for his lover, who had made himself comfortable in an armchair next to the bed. Yao took his hand and squeezed it. "Water, my love?" Kiku could only nod, as he continued to cough. Yao brought a glass of water to the other's lips and helped him drink. "You poor thing."

"I hate flu season," Kiku said grimly. "I wish I could avoid it, like you."

"Maybe when you're as old as I am," Yao replied with a laugh, squeezing Kiku's hand again. Kiku didn't find this funny; having the flu almost three thousand times was the last thing he would ever laugh at. Hiding a smirk, Yao shot him a weak apologetic look. "Don't worry, Kiku. You'll be better soon."

Kiku coughed yet again. "Not soon enough."

"Don't be bitter." Yao squeezed Kiku's hand another time. "These things pass. It's already been twenty four hours; you should be feeling better by tomorrow, and completely new in two days' time."

"I hope so," Kiku sniffled. Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine, and he began to shiver violently. The sensation brought tears to his eyes, and with a whimper, he reached out for Yao once again. Gladly complying, Yao climbed onto the bed and held his dear Kiku as close to him as he could, running his hands up and down his entire body comfortingly.

"Shh, Kiku, it's just a fever," he murmured into the smaller one's ear. "Don't fret. I'm here." He couldn't help but feel bad for the shaking man; a few tears of his own rolled down his cheek. How he hated to see Kiku so ill and helpless...

"Yao," Kiku croaked out, tightening his hold around the other's midsection. "I love you, Yao. Thank you for taking care of me." His words were slightly muffled, as his face was consumed by the fabric of Yao's shirt. Smiling a bit, Yao leaned down and kissed Kiku's burning forehead.

"I love you too, Kiku. Try to get some rest."

His eyes fell closed for the rest of the night, still holding onto Yao. Eventually, his trembling stopped and his fever went down. The next day, to Yao's utter surprise, he felt as well as he did before the flu hit.

kami is the Japanese word for god. Apparently, there are millions of kami in nature and other places in the Shinto religion.

Poor little sick Kiku, my baby. Isn't he sweet? ... No, no he isn't. I wouldn't wish that upon anyone.

Anyway... adios! Please review! :)