Drabble-age (540 words, SanaYuki + Christmas)
Title: Untitled SanaYuki Christmas Drabble
Author: Ociwen
Wordcount: 540
Rating: PGish
Warning: Hurt/comfort? Sappy Christmas themes?
Disclaimer: Konomi owns all.
Summary: Sanada is sick on Christmas eve.
Author's Notes: Something I wrote earlier this month for jibundai.
It was Christmas Eve and cold. One hundred and ten million other people were out there, celebrating with their significant others and Sanada was stuck home, curled up in bed with a head cold. He’d missed school, his mother refused to let him leave the house and when he passed out in the shower trying to get ready, her point was proven.
He was fifteen and miserable and alone on Christmas Eve. His parents were probably downstairs, sitting under the kotatsu, his mother reading a smut book, his father reading a governmental report. His grandfather was off in Tokyo, visiting Tezuka’s grandfather. Just knowing that made Sanada grind his teeth. And then sneeze a long snotty booger onto his sheets.
He couldn’t even bring himself to grimace. He just rolled over onto his other side and shivered.
His brother was out with his girlfriend. Sanada thanked the gods that he was sick enough to not think rationally about the fact his brother’s girlfriend shrieked an awful lot like Kirihara’s older sister and drove the same red Toyota as her too. He buried his head under his pillow. Thinking about it made his head pound even worse. Sanada moaned through the pain, probably sounding like a dying horse in the process.
His skull throbbed, except it wasn’t just that because he could hear the sounds of someone’s footsteps and his door creaking open. He groaned. Go away! Because, really, being fifteen and sick on Christmas Eve, the biggest date night of the year? Deep down, Sanada was well aware of the fact it made him even more of a social leper.
But then his covers were peeled away, rudely, and a blast of cold air hit him. He shook, curled his knees up to his chest and sniffled. He made a noise. “Give them back, aniki!” but that came out more as a long slurring mess rather than actual words.
“Shhh,” someone said. Someone who didn’t have his brother’s voice and who couldn’t have been his brother because his brother would never lie down beside him on his futon and wind an arm around Sanada’s shoulders and arrange the futon cover back over the two of them.
The hand on his chest was warm, playing with the buttons on his pajama shirt. Sanada flushed hot and cold and his forehead and back felt sweatier than ever. He tried to turn his head, but it was too heavy, too full of snot and mucus and smelly gross sick but the other person didn’t care. He just rubbed Sanada’s neck with his nose, hair tickling Sanada’s feverish skin.
“I didn’t want you to be alone tonight,” Yukimura whispered.
He should have told Yukimura that he was sick. He should have told Yukimura that he was contagious and there was half-dried snot all over his covers and that his pajamas smelled faintly of barf, but he couldn’t. Sanada lay there and leaned back into Yukimura’s warm embrace. He sighed into Yukimura’s arm as Yukimura pressed his lips to Sanada’s neck, murmuring things that Sanada sorta understood but was too sick to ever really remember the implications of.
“Merry Christmas,” Yukimura said. Sanada didn’t need to be healthy to understand the kiss that came next.
Author: Ociwen
Wordcount: 540
Rating: PGish
Warning: Hurt/comfort? Sappy Christmas themes?
Disclaimer: Konomi owns all.
Summary: Sanada is sick on Christmas eve.
Author's Notes: Something I wrote earlier this month for jibundai.
It was Christmas Eve and cold. One hundred and ten million other people were out there, celebrating with their significant others and Sanada was stuck home, curled up in bed with a head cold. He’d missed school, his mother refused to let him leave the house and when he passed out in the shower trying to get ready, her point was proven.
He was fifteen and miserable and alone on Christmas Eve. His parents were probably downstairs, sitting under the kotatsu, his mother reading a smut book, his father reading a governmental report. His grandfather was off in Tokyo, visiting Tezuka’s grandfather. Just knowing that made Sanada grind his teeth. And then sneeze a long snotty booger onto his sheets.
He couldn’t even bring himself to grimace. He just rolled over onto his other side and shivered.
His brother was out with his girlfriend. Sanada thanked the gods that he was sick enough to not think rationally about the fact his brother’s girlfriend shrieked an awful lot like Kirihara’s older sister and drove the same red Toyota as her too. He buried his head under his pillow. Thinking about it made his head pound even worse. Sanada moaned through the pain, probably sounding like a dying horse in the process.
His skull throbbed, except it wasn’t just that because he could hear the sounds of someone’s footsteps and his door creaking open. He groaned. Go away! Because, really, being fifteen and sick on Christmas Eve, the biggest date night of the year? Deep down, Sanada was well aware of the fact it made him even more of a social leper.
But then his covers were peeled away, rudely, and a blast of cold air hit him. He shook, curled his knees up to his chest and sniffled. He made a noise. “Give them back, aniki!” but that came out more as a long slurring mess rather than actual words.
“Shhh,” someone said. Someone who didn’t have his brother’s voice and who couldn’t have been his brother because his brother would never lie down beside him on his futon and wind an arm around Sanada’s shoulders and arrange the futon cover back over the two of them.
The hand on his chest was warm, playing with the buttons on his pajama shirt. Sanada flushed hot and cold and his forehead and back felt sweatier than ever. He tried to turn his head, but it was too heavy, too full of snot and mucus and smelly gross sick but the other person didn’t care. He just rubbed Sanada’s neck with his nose, hair tickling Sanada’s feverish skin.
“I didn’t want you to be alone tonight,” Yukimura whispered.
He should have told Yukimura that he was sick. He should have told Yukimura that he was contagious and there was half-dried snot all over his covers and that his pajamas smelled faintly of barf, but he couldn’t. Sanada lay there and leaned back into Yukimura’s warm embrace. He sighed into Yukimura’s arm as Yukimura pressed his lips to Sanada’s neck, murmuring things that Sanada sorta understood but was too sick to ever really remember the implications of.
“Merry Christmas,” Yukimura said. Sanada didn’t need to be healthy to understand the kiss that came next.