[fic] Contagion
Title: Contagion
Rating: G
Pairing: Shigeaki/Koyama (KoyaShige)
Word Count: 581
Warning/s: Incoherent fluff, ooc-ness, sick!koyamama
Summary: Shige knows too much
A/N: FirstJE!fic. ...I wanted to write something, and this is what was produced. Ah, sorry, it's cut off, dis-jointed and whatnot. I haven't been writing (fics) for AGES. ...And I love KoyaShige, so maybe they'll be the ones to get me out of my block. Sorry for grammar mistakes and general ooc-ness, especially on Koyama's part.
Once a person is struck with something such as an illness, there are certain measures that must be taken in order to prevent the worsening of said illness. The whole matter of catching a cold is something that is not taken into mind so seriously. It is not a matter in which one is showered with flowers with hopes of, “Oh please, please, please get well soon.” Simply because an event such as that only ever happened if one was nearing death’s door. Though, in regards to the case of catching a cold, one is simply showered with their own ‘contaminated’ spit and snot. Therefore, in the case of Koyama, he did not consider himself a lucky person when he first awoke to the sight of a much too optimistic smile. It only took a few seconds, amazingly, for Koyama to register one of two things. 1: it was morning, which, (to put it as bluntly as possible), sucked, and 2: Shige was…there. The latter of the two would usually be a prospect which he would welcome. Though, within this instance, he wanted to slap that face out of his sight. “It’s too early.”
“It’s ten.” The smile refuses to leave his sight, and all he is reduced to now is the mere comfort that he is still able to move just enough so that he can bury his head into the pillow. “Everyone’s already ready. They have been for a while now. We’re just waiting for you.” The comfort he was hoping to gain from his pillow was not given, and he stretched out his arms outside of the warm confines of his blanket in an attempt to blindly slap Shige away from his mission in getting him out of the bed. His right arm ceased movement not too long after though - his wrist trapped within the calloused confines of Shige’s hand.
“It’s too early.” Koyama’s voice is muffled, but he knows just by the slight shuffle of Shige’s feet that the other is chuckling at his response. “It’s way too early. And I don’t want to work today.”
“I know.” His wrist is still caught within that hand, and he starts to feel uncomfortable with the position that he is in. There’s a slight cramp starting to ease up through his arm, and it isn’t helping him in trying to think of something better than having to wake up with a cold.
“I’m sick. You’re in contaminated air.”
“I know.”
Koyama is starting to get a bit petulant now. Attempting, but of course failing in freeing his now numbing arm. If it were any other day, a good day, he would have been able to yank his arm away from the now sweaty palm. He pouted, and turned his head to look at Shige as though silently accusing him that this was all his fault, when it obviously wasn’t. There was close to no reply from Shige though, only that same smile that seems to be everlasting. The smile falters for only a second once Koyama tries to pry his arm away from Shige, and within his still slightly delirious, illness-ridden state, he thinks that it must be a figment of his imagination when Shige lies down on the bed next to him. He confirms that it is not his imagination when lanky arms start to wrap themselves around his body, awkwardly, though nonetheless, the comfort is there.
“…You shouldn’t be in here, or you’ll get sick.”
“I know.”
Rating: G
Pairing: Shigeaki/Koyama (KoyaShige)
Word Count: 581
Warning/s: Incoherent fluff, ooc-ness, sick!koyamama
Summary: Shige knows too much
A/N: FirstJE!fic. ...I wanted to write something, and this is what was produced. Ah, sorry, it's cut off, dis-jointed and whatnot. I haven't been writing (fics) for AGES. ...And I love KoyaShige, so maybe they'll be the ones to get me out of my block. Sorry for grammar mistakes and general ooc-ness, especially on Koyama's part.
Once a person is struck with something such as an illness, there are certain measures that must be taken in order to prevent the worsening of said illness. The whole matter of catching a cold is something that is not taken into mind so seriously. It is not a matter in which one is showered with flowers with hopes of, “Oh please, please, please get well soon.” Simply because an event such as that only ever happened if one was nearing death’s door. Though, in regards to the case of catching a cold, one is simply showered with their own ‘contaminated’ spit and snot. Therefore, in the case of Koyama, he did not consider himself a lucky person when he first awoke to the sight of a much too optimistic smile. It only took a few seconds, amazingly, for Koyama to register one of two things. 1: it was morning, which, (to put it as bluntly as possible), sucked, and 2: Shige was…there. The latter of the two would usually be a prospect which he would welcome. Though, within this instance, he wanted to slap that face out of his sight. “It’s too early.”
“It’s ten.” The smile refuses to leave his sight, and all he is reduced to now is the mere comfort that he is still able to move just enough so that he can bury his head into the pillow. “Everyone’s already ready. They have been for a while now. We’re just waiting for you.” The comfort he was hoping to gain from his pillow was not given, and he stretched out his arms outside of the warm confines of his blanket in an attempt to blindly slap Shige away from his mission in getting him out of the bed. His right arm ceased movement not too long after though - his wrist trapped within the calloused confines of Shige’s hand.
“It’s too early.” Koyama’s voice is muffled, but he knows just by the slight shuffle of Shige’s feet that the other is chuckling at his response. “It’s way too early. And I don’t want to work today.”
“I know.” His wrist is still caught within that hand, and he starts to feel uncomfortable with the position that he is in. There’s a slight cramp starting to ease up through his arm, and it isn’t helping him in trying to think of something better than having to wake up with a cold.
“I’m sick. You’re in contaminated air.”
“I know.”
Koyama is starting to get a bit petulant now. Attempting, but of course failing in freeing his now numbing arm. If it were any other day, a good day, he would have been able to yank his arm away from the now sweaty palm. He pouted, and turned his head to look at Shige as though silently accusing him that this was all his fault, when it obviously wasn’t. There was close to no reply from Shige though, only that same smile that seems to be everlasting. The smile falters for only a second once Koyama tries to pry his arm away from Shige, and within his still slightly delirious, illness-ridden state, he thinks that it must be a figment of his imagination when Shige lies down on the bed next to him. He confirms that it is not his imagination when lanky arms start to wrap themselves around his body, awkwardly, though nonetheless, the comfort is there.
“…You shouldn’t be in here, or you’ll get sick.”
“I know.”