Dairy; oneshot
Title: Dairy
Author: squidinksyrup
Genre: General
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Saga/Nao
Disclaimer: I am not associated with alice nine, this is fictitious.
Note: I'm wanting to say that my aim at the moment it to have a fic posted at least once a week, but I have the feeling that once I say that I'll no longer have the drive to dedicate myself to it. But, eh, I have a couple of things that are well on the way to being finished, so we shall see? Lol I like ranting :B
If you catch any mistakes or typos or misplaced commas do let me know. Constructive criticism is more than welcome if there's anything you'd like to point out.
It was the milk that had done it, Nao was sure of that.
He hadn't checked the use-by date just assuming that all was well and good, and had only begun to suspect otherwise when that coffee he made tasted distinctly strange. At the time he'd put it down to a simple mis-tasting, that the cake he'd just eaten had somehow interfered with the taste.
It was so stupid and foolish a reason that it annoyed Nao to think about it--since when had cake had any detrimental effect on coffee? If anything each had been created with the other in mind; they were the perfect combination--they were coffee and cake.
Not that he could stomach either now. All he seemed fit to do was curl up in bed, foetal, and hope that the pain in his belly would go away soon.
Nao hated being sick. Hated the hot-and-cold shivers of fever, hated the delirium that it always accompanied, but most of all he hated the way it made him so very useless. The others were all at rehearsals, practising and fine-tuning new material while he was stuck in his appartment feeling like death.
Even the clock seemed to be teasing him, its rhythmic tick tick tick the only company he had in the moments he drifted out of slumberland. It drew out those hours he was awake, stretching them out so far that Nao couldn't be sure if the day was every going to end.
And then there was the click of his front door, the shuffling of feet across the floor.
Nao pulled himself up, although the sudden movement made his head swim all light-headed with glitter and sparks, and it was only a few short moments before he sank back down into the warmth of his bed.
There was a cool damp cloth pressed against his forehead, soothing relief against the burning fever that choked him. Slender fingers stroked his cheek, the touch was so familiar and comforting and Nao was so glad to finally have some form of company.
"Oh, Nao," Saga said, almost sadly, "what am I going to do with you?"
"Feed me ice-cream and buy me a pet bunny?"
"Hmm, I don't think I can get you either of them," he chuckled, "how does some chicken soup sound?"
"Well I guess it will have to do, for the moment." Nao said, sticking out his tongue before sneezing violently.
Saga took himself over to the kitchen, and Nao could hear him humming softly to himself as peeled, chopped, and cooked away. It was still, almost as quiet as it had been before his arrival with only the slightest of sounds punctuating the silence of the appartment. But even so, it felt so much more different to Nao; just knowing Saga was there only a few breaths away even though he was out of sight, and that all Nao would have to do was call him name and he'd be there with his smile and his lips and that soft sadness in his eyes. It was a reassurance, and time didn't seem to pass quite so slowly.
"If I were to buy you a bunny," Saga said as he carefully carried a tray of food over to Nao's bed, "then what on earth would you call it?"
"I don't know, something like Mister Rabbit? Herr BunBun?"
"It's probably a good thing I don't have one for you--the poor thing would probably be teased by the local wildlife."
Nao laughed a little, but his hands were trembling so much in fever and fatigue to be able to take the food that was being offered. Even the spoon refused to stay put between his fingers.
Nao hated being sick--most of all he hated just how useless it made him, and how it took away that last little bit of resolve that kept back his tears.
Saga hushed him, climbing up onto the bed and was there arms wrapped his feverish frame. Nao hated this weakness and that there was nothing he could do to make it go away. But there was the warmth of Saga's breath on his neck, his cool hands upon his fevered face.
Right then there was no-where else that Nao wanted to be, there in Saga's arms, where he felt that he could at least pretend that he could be a little bit useful to someone.
And that was enough.
Author: squidinksyrup
Genre: General
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Saga/Nao
Disclaimer: I am not associated with alice nine, this is fictitious.
Note: I'm wanting to say that my aim at the moment it to have a fic posted at least once a week, but I have the feeling that once I say that I'll no longer have the drive to dedicate myself to it. But, eh, I have a couple of things that are well on the way to being finished, so we shall see? Lol I like ranting :B
If you catch any mistakes or typos or misplaced commas do let me know. Constructive criticism is more than welcome if there's anything you'd like to point out.
It was the milk that had done it, Nao was sure of that.
He hadn't checked the use-by date just assuming that all was well and good, and had only begun to suspect otherwise when that coffee he made tasted distinctly strange. At the time he'd put it down to a simple mis-tasting, that the cake he'd just eaten had somehow interfered with the taste.
It was so stupid and foolish a reason that it annoyed Nao to think about it--since when had cake had any detrimental effect on coffee? If anything each had been created with the other in mind; they were the perfect combination--they were coffee and cake.
Not that he could stomach either now. All he seemed fit to do was curl up in bed, foetal, and hope that the pain in his belly would go away soon.
Nao hated being sick. Hated the hot-and-cold shivers of fever, hated the delirium that it always accompanied, but most of all he hated the way it made him so very useless. The others were all at rehearsals, practising and fine-tuning new material while he was stuck in his appartment feeling like death.
Even the clock seemed to be teasing him, its rhythmic tick tick tick the only company he had in the moments he drifted out of slumberland. It drew out those hours he was awake, stretching them out so far that Nao couldn't be sure if the day was every going to end.
And then there was the click of his front door, the shuffling of feet across the floor.
Nao pulled himself up, although the sudden movement made his head swim all light-headed with glitter and sparks, and it was only a few short moments before he sank back down into the warmth of his bed.
There was a cool damp cloth pressed against his forehead, soothing relief against the burning fever that choked him. Slender fingers stroked his cheek, the touch was so familiar and comforting and Nao was so glad to finally have some form of company.
"Oh, Nao," Saga said, almost sadly, "what am I going to do with you?"
"Feed me ice-cream and buy me a pet bunny?"
"Hmm, I don't think I can get you either of them," he chuckled, "how does some chicken soup sound?"
"Well I guess it will have to do, for the moment." Nao said, sticking out his tongue before sneezing violently.
Saga took himself over to the kitchen, and Nao could hear him humming softly to himself as peeled, chopped, and cooked away. It was still, almost as quiet as it had been before his arrival with only the slightest of sounds punctuating the silence of the appartment. But even so, it felt so much more different to Nao; just knowing Saga was there only a few breaths away even though he was out of sight, and that all Nao would have to do was call him name and he'd be there with his smile and his lips and that soft sadness in his eyes. It was a reassurance, and time didn't seem to pass quite so slowly.
"If I were to buy you a bunny," Saga said as he carefully carried a tray of food over to Nao's bed, "then what on earth would you call it?"
"I don't know, something like Mister Rabbit? Herr BunBun?"
"It's probably a good thing I don't have one for you--the poor thing would probably be teased by the local wildlife."
Nao laughed a little, but his hands were trembling so much in fever and fatigue to be able to take the food that was being offered. Even the spoon refused to stay put between his fingers.
Nao hated being sick--most of all he hated just how useless it made him, and how it took away that last little bit of resolve that kept back his tears.
Saga hushed him, climbing up onto the bed and was there arms wrapped his feverish frame. Nao hated this weakness and that there was nothing he could do to make it go away. But there was the warmth of Saga's breath on his neck, his cool hands upon his fevered face.
Right then there was no-where else that Nao wanted to be, there in Saga's arms, where he felt that he could at least pretend that he could be a little bit useful to someone.
And that was enough.