Archive of Our Own

Kenma Kozume didn't worry often. He didn't have to. He had enough money and freedom in his 20's as a professional gamer, YouTuber, stock trader, and startup savant that he either 1) paid for the worries to go away, 2) just said no, or 3) paid someone else to worry about them.

However, when his door cam app pinged an alert on his docked phone at 2:23 PM on a weekday he grew concerned.

What the hell was Tetsurou Kuroo doing home at this hour?

It wasn't unusual for the mail delivery people or the landscapers to set off the device around this time. Kenma would ignore it then continue his work, which was different depending on the day. Mondays were for remote Bouncing Ball Corp calls and meetings, Tuesdays were for new video planning and content creation, Wednesdays were for streaming, Thursdays were for editing and post-production, and Fridays through the weekend were for more streaming and posting final content.

Today was Wednesday, which meant gaming from 1:00-6:00, break for dinner, then getting back on for the night and well into the next morning.

But Kenma had barely begun his stream, when the stupid app went off and distracted him. His character was embarrassingly assassinated via point blank blast canon headshot as he stared disbelieving at the live door cam footage.

His boyfriend was fumbling with his keys, coughing so hard that he appeared to keep dropping them. A face mask was strapped over his nose and mouth, his black framed glasses perched above it.

Kenma unlocked the front door with another tap of his home automation app. Kuroo looked up dumbly for a moment before he realized what had happened.

"Thanks," the dark haired man muttered gruffly, knowing Kenma could hear him as he let himself in.

Tetsurou Kuroo was never sick.

In fact, he didn't miss a single day of high school. Unless you counted Nekoma away games, which Kenma didn't because despite his slightly bad boy facade Kuroo was a nerd who always asked for the next day's lessons and homework so he could do it on the train or bus to and from the matches.

In college Kuroo had been ill a few times, but he had holed himself up in his dorm and refused to let Kenma in so that he wouldn't get sick too. It wasn't unlike a cat hiding under his bed until he felt well enough to come out again.

So really the worst Kenma thought he had ever actually seen Kuroo was when they were in middle school and his friend had folded over in agony during a sleepover. After failing to get a hold of his dad, Kenma's mom had rushed him to the hospital. It wasn't even because he was actually sick sick, his appendix had just burst and he needed to have it removed. He got a pretty cool scar out of it.

Kuroo just didn't get sick that often. He always claimed it was because his body was a perfect microbiome of bacteria and awesomeness.

But here he was, in the middle of the workday banging around the genkan probably dropping all his shit everywhere and trying to get his shoes off while he sneezed half his brain cells out.

Glowing on the third screen of Kenma's dedicated professional gaming and video production setup, the followers in his stream chat were growing concerned.

The mighty Kodzuken had stopped responding and playing for a whole four minutes, without warning, mid-game. They were arguing amongst themselves about what could have happened before Kenma realized what he'd done.

He hastily resumed a new hero and got back into the FPS fight.

"Sorry everybody, I'm still alive," Kenma said calmly over voice chat to the delight and relief of his fans. Questions were firing off rapidly in the side chat.

Kodzuken lives!!1!!!!!

Wut happened???

u ok kod?

Wtf you had that asshole cornered too

Dude you were slaughtered

You alright Kodzu?

Maybe he had to take an emergency shit, lay off him peeps

i bet his cats got in =^-^= lololol

A poopmergency?

Yea last tim this happned it was teh cats

Wwwwwwwww XD

uwu show us ur kitties kenken!

While he occasionally shared a photo of his fluffy calico or black furred speed demon, Kenma had zero intentions of sharing this particular cat with his audience.

Despite the crossfire and explosions of the resumed match, Kenma heard heavy footsteps in the hallway beyond the door of his game room office. Then the sound of their bedroom door opening and closing.

Why didn't Kuroo at least pop his head in to say he was home? Just because they had an app it never stopped him from barging in recklessly like he always did. Kuroo did not give two shits whether he was live streaming, on an important board call, or in the bathroom—he always found Kenma in the house and forced him to acknowledge him and say okaeri.

Was he really that bad off? Why didn't he text him that he was leaving work early? Did they make him leave? Shouldn't he go see a doctor or something if it was that bad? Shit, should he be taking him to see someone?

The gamer glanced at the time. He was supposed to be streaming for another four and a half hours at least before breaking for dinner.

But… how was he supposed to know what the hell was going on?

He slammed his keyboard and mouse making his character hastily slit an enemy's throat in a back alley.

Couldn't Kuroo just tell him instead of making him jump to all the worst conclusions?

Another villain was blasted off the top of a building.

Or was something else wrong?

Quick fingers button mashed desperately to save himself and a teammate from getting zapped by a chain electricity attack.

Kuroo didn't do anything quietly.

To the fans' delight, the match ended with his team's miraculous victory.

HOLY SHIT, Kuroo was QUIET.

"Hey guys, I need to log off for a bit," Kenma said suddenly into the mic on his expensive glowing headset. "Sorry, it's… yea, one of my cats isn't well. I'll try to be on later tonight, but if I'm not you know why. Catch me live again this weekend starting Friday. Thanks for watching."

Noooooooo!! Pls dont go kodzuuuu

Poor kitty feel better

Shit r u srs

Awww! Hope ur cat feels better soooooon <3

But… but wed streams are the only time i can watch uuuuu

Oh no! KDZK is good catdaddy, leave him alone

Byyyyyyyyeeeeeeeeeee

Cat daddy. If Kuroo heard that one he would never hear the end of it.

With that Kenma quit the stream, took off his headset, and toed on his warm house slippers that looked slightly out of place with his striped socks, red gym shorts, and black BB Corp swag hoodie.

If curiosity killed the cat, Kenma wondered what this unfamiliar level of growing concern would do to him. Kuroo was surprisingly predictable the vast majority of the time (even his spontaneity and idiocy were predictable) and generally he did not set off gigantic panic alarms in Kenma.

But a quiet Kuroo was a terrifying, terrifying thing.

When Kuroo was quiet he was either A) up to something or B) he was in pain. Kenma had seen him get hurt plenty of times on the court and off it to know that "quiet" was Kuroo's way of trying to hide his suffering, but it only served to paint a massive arrow above his head.

The still partially blonde, sloppy-bunned man padded out of his office and down the hall. His fluffy calico trotting alongside him, eager for acknowledgement after he had just spent the last two hours waiting for Kenma to come out of the dark quiet place. The former setter leaned down to give his little friend a few reassuring pets, which were returned with an enthusiastic headbutt hug and the wrapping of a fluffy orange tail around his leg. When Kenma reached their bedroom he put a foot in front of his cat’s face so he wouldn’t follow and knocked softly before going in. Kenma could move silently almost anywhere especially at home, but he didn't want to freak Kuroo out more if something really was up.

The blocker appeared to be hacking out a lung as he kneeled into their bed. He glanced up at the visitor.

"Shit, Kenma I just took that thing off," a deeply congested-sounding Kuroo wheezed in reference to the abandoned face mask on their dresser. His pants, socks, dress shirt, tie, and undershirt laid in a pile next to said dresser and the hamper that they logically could have just as easily gone into.

Well, at least he was talking. Kenma eyed the pile as he walked past and surveyed his wreck of a boyfriend.

His black bedhead somehow looked even more messy than usual and was complemented by puffy, tired eyes, a red runny nose, and what appeared to be a thin layer of sweat across his pale bare chest and muscled arms. He laid down on his back in his boxers atop the covers, half propped up against the headboard, one leg straight, the other one bent. The darker haired man carefully took off his black rimmed glasses and set them on the side table.

"What are you doing?" Kuroo managed hoarsely followed by a few pathetic sniffs. "Shouldn't you be working?"

He slapped his large hand blindly against the side table searching for the knob, presumably to get to the tissues inside the drawer that were usually reserved for post-frisky time cleanup.

"You're one to talk." Kenma sat down at the end of the bed on Kuroo's side. "Why are you sick?"

"Why? Why am I sick? Kenma, I feel like that's not what you're meaning to ask here," Kuroo rasped deeply as he finally snatched a tissue from the drawer.

"It is. You're never sick," Kenma stated unblinkingly. "How did it happen?"

Kuroo did not answer immediately as his face crinkled awkwardly and forced him to aim his multi sneeze combo attack into his elbow like a villain without the cape. When he finally thought it was over, the blocker impatiently kicked back the sheets and comforter to get under.

"How the fuck should I know? No one else at work is sick," he said miserably before he sneezed yet again.

"Could be now," Kenma mumbled, glancing at the floor where the contaminated clothes laid.

"Look, I put that mask on before I even left this morning and we wear like, a bajillion layers of gear when we're testing—"

"Wearing gloves, goggles, and long sleeves is hardly a bajillion Kuroo."

"It is too! And there's a bunch of other crap depending on the substance. Can't be touching or breathing in drugs and shit. You don't have to get dressed each day, bubble boy, you wouldn't know," Kuroo's blanketed foot kicked him lightly in the thigh.

Kenma pressed his lips together into a deep, unamused frown.

"Can you imagine not wanting a sick person in a lab? What's this world coming to when a man of science can't even do his job and test suspected homicide weapons for clues?" Kuroo continued, laughing lightly until his harsh cough overruled it. He sounded awful.

"You don't have a homicide case right now," Kenma stated without hesitation.

"How would you know?" Kuroo's puffy red eyes narrowed.

"Your big mouth would have texted it to me already."

"Touché little kitty, touché. It's been a looong dry spell of drugs, hair, and jizz unfortunately," Kuroo sighed roughly with faux nostalgia for the two times he had been trusted with crime scene evidence that were believed to be from actual murder cases. To Kuroo’s exasperated disappointment one was ruled accidental, the other suicide. Honestly, people had more to fear in themselves than others in Japan with the yearly death toll from suicide staggering compared to true cold-blooded killing. Despite this, it was one of Kuroo's pipe dreams to help crack a real homicide case.

Kenma's brain went straight to making a very inappropriate forensic nerd joke involving murder, jizz, and Kuroo's trail of broken dreams, but sensing now was not the time he filed it away for later.

"You went out," the gamer said instead.

"Hm?" Kuroo breathed unevenly, rubbing the heel of his palm against his eyebrow like he was losing a battle with a migraine.

"Last weekend. You went out with Bokuto."

"So?"

"So that's how."

"Bokuto wasn't sick bro. You can't blame him for everything," Kuroo's husky voice croaked defensively.

"I don't blame him for everything," Kenma said, eyes narrowing.

"You still can't let go of the water chicken incident from like three years ago," Kuroo wheezed, chuckling and grinning naughtily at the memory despite his boyfriend's glare.

"He played dirty," Kenma shot back immediately.

"Tickling you is not playing dirty Kenma," the roosterhead snorted.

"It fucking is playing dirty Kuroo."

"Is not."

"Is too."

"Is noooooottt," Kuroo sang in a nasally tune, blowing his nose into another tissue.

"Is too," Kenma said again, now legitimately irritated.

Before Kuroo could answer he turned and sneezed relentlessly into his pillow. One after another after another barely giving him a chance to breathe. Kenma felt a very small sense of victory for winning the argument by default, but that was quickly overruled by disgust and then also by pity and some guilt. He really did look and sound terrible.

"Akaashi was sick."

"Wha—achoo!"

Kuroo tried to stop himself by plugging tissues up his nostrils. It was very stupid-looking and wholly unattractive, but somehow also endearing? Kuroo was a confusing person sometimes.

"I was texting him before the weekend," Kenma explained. "He didn't go with you guys last week because he was sick. I didn't go because he didn't go."

"I thought you had work?" Kuroo asked hoarsely with furrowed eyebrows. He pulled the useless tissues out of his chapped red nose, tossing them to the waste bin in the corner and missing completely.

Kenma shrugged.

"Jesus, you streamers can work whenever you damn well feel like it, can't you…"

"Anyway," Kenma said getting up. "You got germs from Bokuto, who got them from Akaashi, who got them from wherever pretty people go when they're not hanging out with their lame friends."

Kuroo sneezed again ducking face first back into his pillow similar to how he slept at night on his stomach, which incidentally was the root cause of his unruly black hair. He then transitioned to coughing violently hard and trying to catch his breath.

"I feel like Bo would have told me though…" Kuroo mumbled hazily into the germ-soaked cotton cover.

"Did you check your texts?" Kenma asked quietly.

"Of course I did Kenma. I'm not an idiot." Kuroo groaned through his eternal suffering into the pillow.

"Right," Kenma said blankly as he gazed at the large, miserable panther-sized lump in their bed.

He left the room without another word.

Kuroo immediately rolled over and snatched his phone from its charging base. Scrolling through the perpetually open Bokuto thread to last weekend's messages.

Kuroo《3:37》: dude

Boku-bro《3:38》: Hey hey!! Wuts up bruh??

Kuroo《3:38》: it’s friday

Boku-bro《3:39》: oho? :D

Kuroo《3:39》: u know what that means

Boku-bro《3:41》: s'time for a little man on man ACTION!

Kuroo《3:42》: wut

Boku-bro《3:42》: wut

Kuroo《3:43》: r u hittin on me ?

Boku-bro《3:43》: WUT NO LOL

Kuroo《3:43》: ?

Boku-bro《3:44》: kaashi and I had a thing but i guess we cant now

Kuroo《3:44》: oh… sucks man

Kuroo《3:45》: u up for drinks then?

Boku-bro《3:45》: WOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Kuroo《3:45》: i take that as a yes

Boku-bro 《3:46》: HELL YEEEAAAAAA

Boku-bro《3:46》 where tho ?

Kuroo《3:46》: hakusan hustle at 7:00?

Boku-bro《3:47》: ohohohoho u know it

Kuroo《4:11》: kenma's out too tho, just u and me buddy

Boku-bro《4:16》: *horns emoji*

Kuroo kept scrolling.

There wasn't one, not one goddamn message about Akaashi being sick!

There were many more shenanigans about going out, several about what to do because they didn't have Akaashi or Kenma to shepard their drunk asses home, and a few unrelated messages involving a spot on Bokuto's side that he was concerned about. He figured that Kuroo might be able to take a look at it because he was a man of science, his best bro, and his go-to for shotty, uneducated medical advice. Apparently the owl was too embarrassed to show Akaashi just yet, although if it was as bad as Bokuto was making it out to be the former setter definitely already knew about it.

Kuroo backed out to his main texting menu only to find one unread message from last Friday.

Akaashi《3:56》: Fair warning, Bokuto had a really bad cold a few weeks ago. Now I have it. Maybe skip the beers tonight...

The bedroom door opened suddenly, startling Kuroo who reflexively slammed his phone down flat against the sheets.

"Here," Kenma said setting the gigantic hiking-grade water bottle down on the nightstand. The ice inside it clinked together lightly. "You need to drink."

Kuroo casually slid his phone under his pillow.

"Thanks babe," he smiled weakly through his obvious misery and flipped up the straw lid to chug.

"...Why do you still call me that?" Kenma asked walking to his own side of the bed.

"Because you are a babe," Kuroo laughed hoarsely as he set the water bottle back down.

"I am not a babe..."

"You sure look like one to me."

"What the hell does a babe even look like?" Kenma sighed crawling into the sheets beside him, still in his soft red gym shorts and branded hoodie.

"Long blonde hair for starters," Kuroo crooned darkly, playing with a lock of Kenma's black and gold bangs that didn't quite make it up into his sloppy bun.

"My hair is hardly blonde anymore."

"Big, gorgeous eyes," Kuroo went on gazing at Kenma intensely. The bed-headed idiot had red shot through his own.

Kenma deliberately rolled over and pulled out his phone.

"Tight, little ass," Kuroo laughed roughly, grabbing a handful of Kenma's cheek through the shorts which earned him a swift kick in the shin.

"Ow! Come on, Kenma, I'm sick! You're supposed to take care of me," Kuroo whined pathetically.

"Not with my ass, I'm not," Kenma said montonely as he scrolled through his search results. "Go to sleep already."

"I caaaaan't."

Kenma sighed wondering if he should indulge him further or not. He sure was whiny when he didn't feel well.

"Why? Why can't you Kuroo?" "

Because right now you're the little spoon," Kuroo sniffed leaving the rest of it an unspoken implication.

Kenma turned to face him, an unreadable look on his face as his hair splayed out prettily across the pillow.

"So roll over then."

Kuroo grinned having gotten his way and did as he was told, burrowing deeper under the covers so that he could curl his long back into Kenma's hoodied chest. His legs were hopelessly far from the spooning action, but it couldn't be helped. The cat was too long.

Kenma snaked one arm around Kuroo's waist to rest lazy fingers against his chest. The semi blonde's other hand still tapped quietly on his phone.

Kuroo flinched as he coughed harshly, muscles tensing under Kenma's light touch, but otherwise he seemed to be satisfied with this level of comfort. As much as he could be anyway.

"Thanks babe," Kuroo said again softly through his altered smoker-esque voice.

"Shhh," Kenma responded. He tapped the order button silently and stroked a thumb against his boyfriend's breastbone.

There hadn't been any sort of medicine in the kitchen cabinet when he had filled up the water bottle, otherwise he would have made Kuroo take it. He sounded like he was on his deathbed, which was why Kenma was slightly hesitant to leave him alone for too long to go out and buy something.

Okay, so maybe going to the store required dressing like a human and possibly interacting with them, but this is why they invented same day delivery, right?

Kenma truly had next to zero reasons to leave the house these days.

He did put pants on to go out grocery shopping with Kuroo half the time, and occasionally they'd have a night out with Bokuto and Akaashi since they'd moved into an apartment nearby. Sometimes Shouyou invited him out too, but usually he could convince the redhead to just come over and play video games or watch a movie with him. Largely, Kenma was perfectly content in the palace of entertainment and comfort that was their private little single story rental home in the suburbs.

On the rare occasion Kenma felt like "getting out," it was enough for him to make a snack and go eat it outside on their porch. Kuroo had challenged him to a watermelon seed spitting contest out there last summer, although it had ended poorly when Kuroo choked from laughing too hard at Kenma's failed attempt to properly propel his seeds. Kenma didn't know CPR or whatever he was supposed to do so he just hit his boyfriend's back really hard. Repeatedly. The tall cat would definitely be screwed should something larger than a few seeds try to kill him.

Kuroo snored loudly, signaling he was in a deep enough sleep for Kenma to slip away unnoticed. But he didn't right away this time. He stared at the back of Kuroo's black fluffy head and sweat-soaked back and thought about how much he wished this big, beautiful idiot didn't have to feel this way.

The medicine was on its way to be delivered in a little over an hour along with more tissues, some chapstick, dish soap (because they were out), energy drinks, cat food, and socks (Kenma had thrown out three old ones a few days ago because Kuroo kept wearing holes straight through them). Order minimums could kiss his ass. There was always a running list on both of their phones for stuff they needed and Kenma was more than happy to get delivery over walking through an entire store with a highly distractible Kuroo in charge of the cart any day.

Before Kenma knew it, he was waking up to buzzing in his pocket from the door cam app. Kuroo drooled obliviously on the pillow next to him.

The gamer retrieved the package at the front door, waving thanks to the delivery lady as she walked away. He wandered inside and found the kitchen table where he began unpacking its contents. It was then that Kenma realized he was also getting hungry.

Kuroo definitely wouldn't be cooking dinner tonight, that was for damn sure. And honestly, Kenma could count on his hand the number of times he had been responsible for dinner duty and not without good reason. He tended to burn, blow up, or eviscerate any recipe he attempted no matter how "easy" people tried to tell him they were.

Cooking wasn't his thing, but Kuroo was actually really good at it and didn't ever seem to mind. He often stopped by the store on his way home from work to pick up fresh ingredients. Kenma had forgotten how spoiled he was to have a man who not only made and fed him delicious meals, but also one who literally never complained about it despite being the one who worked outside of the house and had a thirty minute commute each way.

Kenma sighed staring at their empty kitchen. He opened the pantry only to immediately close it. He didn't know why he even bothered, there was no way he'd be able to make something edible enough for either of them to eat even if Kuroo was probably lacking taste buds right now.

He ran his fingers through his long black and barely blonde bangs as he tapped open a food delivery app. There was no sense in wasting more time, he might as well order now so it would be here when Kuroo woke up.

Only… Kuroo slept for a really long time.

The food had been delivered hours prior to the fifth time Kenma poked his head in to check on him.

How in the hell was he still asleep?

But you don't wake miserable sick people, he knew that much. His mom would let him sleep the whole day when he was little. She brought him food, water, wrapped ice packs, and comfort, but otherwise she left him alone to burn off fevers in sleep.

Oh… shit.

Did… did Kuroo have one of those? Kenma didn't even think to check until now. Would you wake someone up to find out? Fuck, did they even have a thermometer? Or can you really tell from touching someone's forehead like a psychic identification power?

Big surprise, they did not in fact have a thermometer. They hadn't needed one. Whenever Kenma was sick Kuroo just did the stupid forehead jedi trick and because he was never sick Kenma had never considered buying one.

Unfortunately, same day delivery had now switched over to next day delivery. On top of that the sun was setting early because of the autumn shift in daylight hours and Kenma was not going out in the cold, dark evening alone to buy such a device no matter how much he loved that messy haired loaf.

Irritated, he ordered one for next day delivery and decided to search for how to do this magic hand thing in the meantime. It couldn't be that hard, right?

Ten minutes later Kenma was 85% sure Kuroo definitely had a fever. He wasn't a master of… caring for sick people or anything, but when he pressed his palm under Kuroo's sweaty hair to feel his forehead it was hot enough to startle his hand away at first touch. He pressed it back to him again letting the skin burn against his own until he felt reasonably certain in his assessment.

Kuroo was not going to work tomorrow.

Even if he whined. Even if he begged. Even if he annoyed the living shit out of Kenma while he tried to edit his new YouTube video.

"What are you doing?"

Kenma jumped. He didn't realize Kuroo was awake in bed and staring at him with one lazy eye open.

"You… you're burning up," Kenma stated, taking in the tired visage of his haphazard sleeping beauty. He looked pale in the dim light cast from the doorway of their ensuite bathroom.

"I feel like I am too," he said groggily, closing his swollen red eyes.

"And you look like shit."

"Aw, thanks babe."

Apparently he still had enough energy to be a smartass.

"I do feel like shit," Kuroo admitted seriously a moment later. A flicker of silent pain fluttered across his closed eyelids before it disappeared.

"Can you sit up? I got stuff for you to take," Kenma explained, eyeing the rest of his body for any other signs of discomfort.

"You do, do you?" Kuroo rasped in amusement, opening his eyes again. "Is my thoughtful boyfriend going to nurse me back to health?"

"Shut up and sit up," Kenma rolled his eyes as he went to the bathroom and poured the syrupy red liquid into a small translucent cup. He returned a moment later and set it on the side table.

Kuroo very slowly arched his broad shoulders up enough to get into a semi-upright position, then picked up the shot of medicine.

"Cheers," he smiled and downed it all in one go. His face contorted in disgust as his tongue looked like it wanted to abandon ship from his mouth.

"Drink something dummy," Kenma said shoving the half empty water bottle in his hand.

He chugged mercilessly until it was all gone.

"Fuck, that is awful shit," Kuroo shuddered and gasped as he dropped the empty bottle beside him. "You sure you didn't poison me to put me out of my misery?"

"At least you'd have your homicide case," Kenma deadpanned as Kuroo laughed until he wheezed raggedly. It sounded like his chest was trying to combust.

"Pffft, I can't solve my own death Kenma."

"Why not?"

"Because that sounds like the plot to a bad movie."

"I'm pretty sure you've forced me to go see that movie."

"I have not," Kuroo croaked. He was losing his voice now.

"You have too," Kenma said quickly. "Don't lay down just yet."

With that he grabbed the water bottle, refilled it, and returned five minutes later with reheated delivery ramen from their favorite noodle joint.

"Shit, I'm getting the star treatment tonight," Kuroo said in a low rasp. He was losing speaking HP fast.

"As opposed to what every other night?" Kenma asked without meaning to. He didn't really want an answer, he just found it hard not to argue with his lanky counterpart.

Kuroo seemed to know this because he just shrugged and held the bowl up to his face by resting it precariously atop his bent knees. He slurped contently for a few minutes as Kenma observed him carefully. He wondered if they had clean spare sheets in case Kuroo spilled the whole damn bowl because of his risky eating position.

"Do I need to… like... take you somewhere or something?"

Kuroo raised his dark eyebrows. Noodles hung unattractively halfway out of his mouth.

"I dunno, like a hospital or a clinic or wherever?" Kenma continued, dragging a hand through his long hair and looking awkwardly at the floor as if it had the right answers.

"Why would you do that?" Kuroo said froggily even lower than before as he continued to slurp straight from the bowl.

"Well, aren't you dying?"

"We're all dying Kenma."

"Don't be a smartass, I'm serious. I don't know what I'm doing and I don't fucking know how to tell when it's bad enough to—"

"I'm fine," Kuroo interrupted barely above a whisper. "You don't have to try so hard Kenma. I just need the things you already gave me and more sleep, okay?"

The crazed black haired roosterhead strained to continue, but nothing came out. He tried chugging some water to clear his throat, but it didn't work. His voice was gone.

Kuroo threw his head back in an exaggerated mime-like silent groan. Kenma bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.

At least this sort of quiet was beyond his control, fitting into neither the mischievous category or the pain playdown category.

"Sorry…" Kenma said sincerely. "I just never got to be the one to take care of you is all. I suck at this stuff..."

Kuroo glared and shook his head from side to side in disagreement. He set his bowl on the nightstand and formed a heart with his thumbs and index fingers across his chest.

"You love me anyway?" Kenma guessed.

Kuroo nodded and grinned at him, though he still looked like death warmed over.

"Thanks…" Kenma sighed. What was he going to do with this idiot?

"What else can I do for you?"

Kuroo cocked an eyebrow, high and suggestive.

"What can I do for you that is not sex-related?" Kenma clarified, rolling his eyes as Kuroo feigned a smack on the forehead. He shrugged when he realized Kenma was really still waiting for an answer.

"Lay down then," Kenma instructed as he crawled into bed again with his germ-infested boyfriend.

He resumed his spooning position from earlier, but this time Kuroo just leaned his head into Kenma's arms. Skilled, soft fingers twisted and brushed the black wild strands up off his scalding hot face. He dragged his nails carefully against Kuroo's collarbone and defined jawline, tracing the sensitive areas of skin that were rarely paid attention to. Kuroo shivered with obvious pleasure.

Feeling like he was starting to relax, Kenma pressed his thumbs directly into Kuroo’s cheekbones and around the bridge of his nose to help relieve sinus pressure. This must have felt good too because Kuroo groaned long and hazy. Within a few minutes he was breathing deeper as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Kenma's golden eyes held him for a long time in the low lit comfort of their bedroom.

So what if he sucked at all this, right? Kuroo didn't care. Kuroo loved him anyway. Kuroo was now drooling happily knocked out from meds thanks to him.

He thought about returning to his normal Wednesday night stream, but decided against it.

Kuroo was right. He did get to choose whenever he wanted to work, and right now was not the time. Right now was for the poor hot mess beside him. He needed him for once. Legitimately needed Kenma whether he was okay admitting that or not.

And that felt… kinda good. In a weird way. To be needed. Like this at least.

Kenma pressed his lips softly against Kuroo's damp forehead as he curled a strand of his own long hair back behind his ear. Kuroo mumbled silently in his sleep, his lips twitching to form unknown words. Except for one, which was unmistakably Kenma.

He loved this fool so much it was unbearable at times.

"Now get better you idiot," Kenma whispered into his hair as he snored loud enough to wake the dead.

Now that was an idea. If Kuroo could wake up spirits maybe then he could ask them how they died and find one to score that stupid homicide case. It would be one less awkward thing Kenma had to do to help Kuroo achieve his insane and slightly creepy aspirational goals.

Kenma fell asleep shortly after Kuroo, his hands still tangled through his boyfriend's incurably hopeless hair, knees tucked up close to his chest. He didn't dream much anymore, and sometimes he wondered if it was because he didn't need to. No matter how crazy things got, he was already living them thanks to the guy he got to bicker and laugh with every day. The one who mattered more than anything. The one who could apparently worry the living hell out of him, but at the same time reassure him that everything would be alright.

He would never stop worrying for Kuroo. It wasn’t possible. You couldn’t pay, influence, or level your way out of that. All he could do was trust him, even if he was a nutcase at times.

—

When Kenma woke the next morning, Kuroo was still deep in his drug-induced coma. He had to wriggle himself out from under a heavy, lanky arm, but stayed a moment watching him from the edge of their bed. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but he looked a little better. Still sweaty, but less pale. Clearly more rested.

The cats yowled impatiently at the door demanding to be fed. Kenma sighed out his anxiety in one long breath, not realizing he had let it build up again in the few minutes he’d been awake.

He was so grateful for this fool and his now slightly less than perfect microbiome. And as much as he knew he’d regret it later, he hoped his boyfriend’s loud, obnoxious voice came back soon.

"Kenma…"

Speak of the devil...

The former setter leaned closer to hear him since his voice was paper thin.

"Don't go," Kuroo mumbled sleepily, tugging on his wrist to get back under the covers.

Kenma's heart melted with the force of Kuroo's critical hit. Why did he have to be so pathetically cute at times?

"I need to feed the cats," Kenma said evenly.

Kuroo's bottom lip stuck out into a pout, eyes still closed.

"But I'll come back, okay?" He conceded, getting up and stepping into his slippers.

To that Kuroo sniffed and seemed to tuck the majority of his lip back in. He still looked sad though.

"What is it?" Kenma asked, feeling like maybe there was something else he missed. "Kuroo, come ooon," Kenma groaned when he rolled over away from him.

The former setter stalked over to his boyfriend's side of the bed and smushed Kuroo's cheeks between his palms to make him look at him. His eyes were still shot through with red, but maybe less so than last night.

"You're just really good at taking care of me," Kuroo managed hoarsely through his silly-looking fish face.

"I am?" Kenma asked, genuinely surprised. He loosened his grip on his cheeks, but didn't let go.

"Yea. I sorta feel dumb for never letting you do it before," Kuroo admitted low and gravelly.

"You didn't trust me?"

"It wasn't that. I didn't want you to get sick."

"So now you don't care?" Kenma countered playfully, pinching his cheeks beneath his thumbs. He wanted to kiss him, but thought better of it.

"Now it's unavoidable. We live together," Kuroo sighed, closing his eyes that were still hazy with sleep.

"Sorry, not sorry for that one," Kenma muttered.

Kenma actually loved living with Kuroo. Although he felt like he had practically lived with him for years already because he was over so much as a kid. He was there for dinner most nights, they shared Kenma's bed during sleepovers, and Kuroo even had his own drawer of clothes for like, five years before it got weird, and then another six years after it was weird. Even in their university dorms it felt something like living together because they'd do their laundry down in the basement, shop for groceries, cook in the communal kitchen (well Kuroo did), and get takeout to eat in bed while they watched stupid sci-fi movies together.

But it was different now. There were levels to being functioning adults in one household that had revealed themselves slowly like blank spaces on an uncharted map. Kenma was so used to Kuroo always being there that he sometimes forgot there were things they still hadn't experienced with each other. Getting Kuroo through being sick was just one quest out of who knows how many more that were still left untapped.

"Are you done whining?" Kenma asked poking his cheek with one finger as he let the other hand slip away.

"No," Kuroo huffed, burrowing his face into the pillow.

Kenma hooked his water bottle with one finger through the carabiner to refill it again, and left to feed the howling cats outside their door who had now taken to banging their paws against the knob because it made a much more annoying and loud rattle inside the room.

He returned a few minutes later, but disappeared immediately into their bathroom. Kuroo was nearly asleep again when he heard the toilet flush.

The bed folded slightly under a silent, methodical prowl. A dark eye pried open to stare into shining golden ones.

Kuroo's sculpted arm swung over Kenma, pulling him into a panther grip close to his chest.

"Did… you want this?" Kenma asked hesitantly.

Kuroo forced his eye back open. In Kenma's hands was a cool, damp cloth that was leaking a little into their sheets.

"Babe, you are seriously the best," he croaked, kissing Kenma's hair before he laid back a bit waiting.

His face had still been mega hot when Kenma held it before, so he figured it couldn't hurt to try something else. Carefully, he smoothed the cloth over Kuroo's scorching forehead, his ruddy cheeks, and along the strong lines of his jaw. He dipped it down to slide across the hallows of his neck, then moved on to his collarbone, shoulders, and chest. The moisture left behind trails of cooling relief and made Kuroo exhale deeply.

"You're too good to me," Kuroo whispered, enjoying the flashes of chilled comfort against his skin as their bedroom fan blew a refreshing wind across them.

"I am not," Kenma retorted quietly. He returned to Kuroo's face, which now had a big, stupid grin on it. "What?" He asked mildly irritated that Kuroo couldn't just relax and not make this awkward.

"You won't win this one. You are too good to me, Kenma," Kuroo smiled knowingly beneath the folds of the damp washcloth.

"I am not. Just shut up and relax, would you," Kenma said swiping the cloth back so high on his forehead that it went into his hair and slicked it up into even more of a mess.

"I thought you didn't want me to shut up?"

Kenma didn't remember saying that.

"Last night you looked like you were gonna cry when I lost my voice," Kuroo purred with satisfaction.

The washcloth slapped hard against Kuroo's stomach, startling him momentarily from the unexpected cold strike.

"What? You did, okay?" Kuroo sniffed, picking up the little wet thing and placing it over his eyes. He huffed out an aggravated sigh. "Take the compliment Kenma. You never give yourself enough credit, you know that?"

Kenma didn't need credit dammit, he needed Kuroo to stop fucking around and get better.

A few minutes passed in familiar silence. Kenma was still laying on Kuroo's well-muscled arm that wrapped lazily around his back. He wondered if Kuroo had fallen back asleep.

"Hey, babe?"

This man would be the end of him.

"Hm?" Kenma managed through closed lips, feeling the allure of the warm bed pull him back into its cozy abyss.

"Thanks for taking such good care of me," Kuroo said in a deep voice from behind the veil of the damp cloth.

"Mmm," Kenma agreed with an equal amount of hardly any effort. His eyes were closed as he tucked himself close to the blazing body beside him.

"And it was Bo."

Kenma's eyes sprung open.

"You were right. Score one for Kozume everybody," Kuroo grinned knowing Kenma was silently enjoying it.

"Speaking of which, I better message my boss. I have a feeling you're not letting me go today either," Kuroo said moving the cloth to the top of his head before rolling slightly to the side to get his phone off the nightstand. He left his other arm as a sacrifice to the cuddle god Kenma.

"Mm Hmm," the gamer answered in agreement.

Kuroo tapped out a few lines of explanation and apology to his coworkers and then set the phone back down. He gazed at the little kitten so cozily snuggled up beside him.

"What about you Mr. Streamer? Aren't the masses waiting your arrival to slaughter some poor noobs right about now?"

Kenma grunted not wanting to answer. Kuroo scooted his side away from Kenma, but the former setter clung to him like an angry little koala.

"Hey you," Kuroo smiled, diving fingers through his boyfriend's black and gold-tinged tresses. "Seriously, don't you have to get up?"

Kenma groaned into Kuroo's ribcage.

"That sounds like a yes," Kuroo said slyly.

"It's not a yes, it's a be quiet and go back to sleep," Kenma mumbled into the sheets.

"You're not going to stream today?"

"I don't stream on Thursdays."

"You're not gonna do your other work stuff then?" Kuroo shifted to his side and folded some of Kenma's hair behind his ear. The gamer tried to get comfortable again.

"No."

"Because of me?" Kuroo said seriously, gazing at his boyfriend's mildly irritated sleepy scowl.

Kenma opened one golden eye with a deeply furrowed brow.

"For you."

"For me?" Kuroo blinked.

"Yea, for you. Not because of you."

"Those seem like the same thing."

"They aren't," Kenma said shortly, closing his eye again as if that were final.

"Why for me then?" Kuroo continued, finally laying his head parallel to his sassy, grumpy kitty.

"Because there isn't much I wouldn't do for you Kuroo," Kenma sighed.

It was at that moment that the doorbell rang and Kenma's phone buzzed to tell him the same thing.

"Delivery?" Kuroo asked, knowing full well only a mail person would come to their house this early.

"Yea, I got us a thermometer," Kenma grunted.

"You ordered one even though it was obvious?" Kuroo grinned.

"I ordered one so I never have to consider going out and buying one like last night."

"So you'll take off of work for me, but you won't put on pants to go out to a pharmacy?" Kuroo teased, nuzzling his rosy nose against Kenma's forehead.

"I said there isn't much I wouldn't do," Kenma repeated sourly.

Kuroo just laughed lightly closing his eyes.

"Ah, Kenma the amazing pantsless wonderboy. I'll be sure to thank you properly once I'm up and running again," Kuroo playfully cupped his boyfriend's ass under the covers, squeezing and pulling their hips together as he did so.

"Mmph!" Kenma scowled, punching Kuroo's arm to get him to stop. "Save it Kuroo! Otherwise it'll be your jizz and someone else's dream-worthy homicide case."

"Goddamn, Kenma! How long have you been holding onto that one?" Kuroo asked incredulously.

A tiny, smug grin curled out from the side of Kenma's mouth.

"Aw, you little shit!" Kuroo's booming laughter filled the room until a wheeze caught his throat and forced him to duck back into his pillow.

"I love you," Kenma said still grinning into Kuroo's congested chest as his cough settled.

"I know you do, so stop busting my balls already, okay?" Kuroo planted another kiss into his hair, still unwilling to give him one anywhere else even though he'd been breathing all over him the whole night.

"Okay. Just for today," Kenma sighed through his nose contentedly.

"I'll take what I can get," Kuroo smiled, closing his eyes once more as he drifted off surrounded by the comfortable certainty that he was loved more than anything by the person who meant everything.