"Ah.. Ahhh… AahhhChoo!"  Tatsumi covered his mouth and his nose with his hand but it wasn't enough to stop the sound from reverberating through the apartment.

Watari, busy finishing up the dinner dishes, stuck his head through the doorway that separated the neat kitchen from the main room of the house.

"You have a cold."

"Ib doob not." Tatsumi answered automatically, wincing as his stuffed up nose muffled the words.

Hands still busy with a dishtowel and a pan, Watari arched his elegant eyebrows in a pointed expression that caused Tatsumi to glare fiercely at him.

"Ob shud up.  I can't hab a code."

"You can't?"  Watari asked incredulously.

"Noob… I can't.  I'm dead.  Dead peeble doob noob geb codes."

"Well, not as a general rule but when the dead person in question has just spent the past two weeks in human form on Earth surrounded by herds of little ankle biters with colds, then yes, dead people can get colds."

Tatsumi glared harder at his partner who beamed at him in a pleasant manner and disappeared back into the kitchen.  As soon as Watari was safely tucked away at the sink, Tatsumi leaned back in the heavy leather chair he favored and closed his eyes, trying to still the low dull throb that was echoing behind his eyes.

He didn't want to have a cold.  Who in their right mind would want to have a cold?  Unfortunately, Tatsumi could no longer deny the burning sensation in his sinuses, his stuffed up nose and the scratchy roughness that was invading his throat.  He also had a sinking suspicion that his body was busily trying to fight off the virus with a nice low-grade fever, which was making him uncomfortably warm.

Reaching up he yanked at the pristine knot of his tie and worked it and the top couple buttons of his shirt loose.  Ah, that felt a little better.  Now, if the drum set that was going off in his head would abate a little he might…

"Ahhh…Chooo!  Bah, dambd id."  Tatsumi snarled.  Angry at the cold virus running rampant in his body and doubly angry with his body's failure to catch and combat the virus before it reached a point that his immune system had to make him miserable.

Eyes closed, he thumped his head petulantly back against the soft back of his chair.

"You're just going to make your headache worse doing that."  His partner's amused voice came a half-second before the gentle touch of his cool hand.  Watari cupped his palm across Tatsumi's forehead, gauging the level of the man's fever.

Tatsumi's knee-jerk reaction was the push his partner's concerned touch away, but Watari's hand felt so blessedly cool that Tatsumi actually found himself turning into the caress.  

With Tatsumi's eyes safely closed, Watari indulged in an affectionate study of the older man's slightly flushed features.  Moving his hand from Tatsumi's forehead to his cheek and then down to the side of his neck, he took a read of not only temperature but also pulse.  The former was mild the latter was strong.  

Seiichirou Tatsumi merely had a garden-variety pain in the ass cold.

"Here, take these.  They'll help with the sore throat and the fever."  Watari removed his hand from Tatsumi's skin and dug a couple of aspirin out of his shirt pocket, holding them out towards the older man.  

Tatsumi grumbled softly, eyeing the little white pills through a half-hooded gaze.  

"Youb dibn't… doctor dobse dib youb?  Some strange formula dabt's going tube turn me into Konoe-sama in my sleep?"

Watari snorted with amusement. "No.  However, given the expiration date on the bottle you might be visited by little pink elephants in the middle of the night."

"Oh, well dabt's dobkay den."

Unable to help himself, Watari started to laugh softly. "Oh for Enma's sake, Seii. Stop trying to talk.  It can't be doing your throat any good and you sound ridiculous."

Taking the two little white pills from Watari's hand and the glass of water the man held out towards him, Tatsumi glared at his partner from over the rim of his glasses.

"Danks."  Even muffled it was impossible to miss the wryness infused in the word.

Laughing harder, Watari waved a hand at him as he moved back towards the kitchen.  "Not a problem."

Watching the blonde disappear back into the other room, Tatsumi leaned back with a deep sigh.  Since the events with Esoka-san, and this most recent mission, he and Watari had fallen into an almost predictable pattern.  The blonde scientist came over to Tatsumi's apartment at least two times a week for dinner, conversation, debate or sometimes just a couple games of chess.  It was a strange arrangement but it served two purposes; it got Watari out of the lab on a more regular basis and it kept Tatsumi from working 60-70 hour weeks.  

Both men found it a quite pleasant development in their relationship and while neither of them remarked upon it, neither of the missed a designated night either.

Except I had to go and get sick.  Bah, I'm dead… what the hell am I doing with a cold?!?  It's just wrong that the common cold can even overcome death.

Tatsumi bitched to himself as he coughed and winced when the motion caused his raw throat to feel even more sore and uncomfortable.  That was the worst thing about the common cold - how damn uncomfortable it made you feel.  How you couldn't get into a restful position no matter how hard you tried, thwarted either by your nose, your throat or a fever.

Reaching up and yanking his glasses off his face, Tatsumi squirmed in his chair trying to find a comfortable place to settle but the leather, normally so soothing, was hot and binding, making him shift and wriggle trying to find cool spots.  He could hear Watari quietly moving about the apartment but caught in a mental struggle with his war zone of a body, Tatsumi didn't pay much attention to what the blonde was up to.  This was probably something he'd regret later as turning his back on Watari was an invitation to disaster, but at the moment, Tatsumi simply didn't care.

I HATE colds!!!

"Aaaahhh Choo!"

Tatsumi sat forward as he sneezed curling his head down between his knees in an effort to get the throbbing to let up.   He fought the urge to stomp one leather shod foot in childish frustration as his nose stuffed back up, forcing him to breath through his mouth which aggravated his sore throat.

"Damnd ibd."  He muttered quietly, rubbing his hands over his face.

Another hand landed lightly between his shoulder blades and rubbed a soothing pattern; back and forth that felt ridiculously good.

"Come on.  You need to get to bed.  Good old-fashion rest will straighten you out in no time."  

Watari sounded too amused but Tatsumi simply wasn't up to defending his dignity.  Grumbling wordlessly, he pried himself out of his chair and stood up, swaying a little as the room went for a little spin.  Taking a staggering sidestep, he felt Watari's arms wrap around his waist to steady him.

"Whoa, no tripping over your own two feet unless I have a camera to catch the moment on film."

"Buck youb."  Tatsumi sniffed.

Watari laughed. "Why, Seiichirou I didn't realize that colds brought out your baser nature."

Tatsumi threw his weight unceremoniously against his partner's slighter form but was not surprised with Watari simply caught him and powered them both towards the bedroom.  It was a short walk, only a couple of steps down the hall and through a doorway till they were in the neatly kept room.  Though he slept alone and really didn't need the extravagance, Tatsumi had treated himself to a king sized four poster years ago, enjoying the room to stretch out.  He'd made the bed neatly that morning but as they walked through the door, he saw that one corner had been invitingly turned down and that wasn't the only little change in his usual decor.

On the cherry nightstand by his bed sat a box of tissues, a bottle of what he recognized as Ny-Quill, a bottle of aspirin, a tall bottle of water and even a glass.  Beside the bed a wastebasket had been cleaned and was ready to be filled with used tissues and there was a stack of books tucked neatly into the small shelf of the stand, ready for reading.  

Tatsumi knew he hadn't left his bedroom in such a condition when he'd headed out to work that morning.  Watari had been a busy boy.

Tatsumi's pajama bottoms were laid out on the bed and Watari guided his partner to sit beside them.  Once seated on the side of the bed, the Secretary sat there staring at his partner's waistband blankly.

Watari quirked an eyebrow as he stared down at the tousled, slightly sweaty chestnut hair and smiled with gentle amusement.

"Mmm, need help getting into your pajamas?"

Tatsumi merely shot a look indicating the negative from over top the rim of his glasses.

"Alright, I'm going to go turn off the lights.  You get changed and I'll check your fever once you get into bed."

Tatsumi watched Watari sail back out of the bedroom, waiting until he was certain the blonde was clear of the hallway before allowing a small smile to creep over his features.

Translation, you're making certain I get into bed, but leaving me enough dignity to do it myself.  Thank you, my friend.

Tatsumi took advantage of the time Watari gave him to get out of his work clothes, into his pajama trousers and then under the covers.  The sheets felt deliciously cool and Tatsumi realized with a start that Watari had changed the bed, there was just something inherently comforting about fresh sheets.

The older Shinigami had settled down on his pillows, closed his eyes and was half-asleep by the time Watari crept back into the room.  Tatsumi felt his partner's gentle touch against the side of his face and then long cool fingers carded through his hair a couple of times in a soothing motion that massaged the tension out of Tatsumi's skull and seemed to help ease the pain he felt in his head.

Tatsumi wanted to thank his partner.  He wanted to open his eyes and say those two simple words.  To acknowledge that it was nice to have someone take care of him when he wasn't feeling well.  That it was nice not to be miserable and completely alone but Tatsumi couldn't quite find the courage to face Watari and say those words.  Instead, he sighed deeply and snuggled into the pillows, feeling a little smile turn up the corners of his lips.

Too soon, Watari's hand was drawn away and Tatsumi could sense the younger man straightening out of a crouch by the bed.  The lamp at his bedside clicked off and the soft brush of air across Tatsumi's face signaled Watari's movement to withdraw.  He thought Watari had left when, from somewhere near the bedroom doorway, he heard his partner's voice whisper affectionately.

"You're welcome."

. -End-

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