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The key scraped against the lock with familiar ease, a sound that usually preceded the whirlwind chaos of Satoru's presence filling every corner of their shared space.
Suguru pushed through the door at precisely six o'clock, his internal chronometer as reliable as ever, expecting the usual assault on his senses- warm yellow light spilling from every lamp Satoru never bothered to turn off, the lingering sweetness of whatever sugary monstrosity he'd been snacking on, and that particular bright energy that seemed to emanate from his omega like sunshine made manifest.
Instead, darkness greeted him.
The apartment stretched before him, cold and unnaturally still, as if the very air had been drained of life. No cheerful greeting called out from the kitchen, no dramatic complaints about his day, no feet padding across hardwood floors to meet him at the door. Just silence, thick and wrong, settling like lead in his stomach.
Suguru's alpha, usually content to hum quietly beneath the surface, suddenly flared to life with the intensity of a wildfire. Every nerve ending screamed danger, his nostrils flaring as he drew in a deeper breath, searching for the familiar comfort of Satoru's scent. What he found instead made his blood run cold.
Distress. Sharp and acrid, cutting through the usual vanilla-sweet undertones that normally made their home smell like safety and warmth. The pheromones hit him like a physical blow, bypassing rational thought and striking directly at the most primitive parts of his brain. Something was wrong with his omega.
Dropping his briefcase where he stood, Suguru followed the invisible trail like a bloodhound, his feet carrying him down the hallway with increasing urgency. The scent grew stronger as he approached their bedroom, layered now with something else- something desperate and needy that made his chest tighten with an almost painful protectiveness.
The door stood ajar, and when he pushed it open, the sight that greeted him nearly brought him to his knees.
In the corner where their reading chair usually sat, a nest had been constructed. Not the carefully arranged, aesthetically pleasing type that Satoru sometimes built when he was feeling particularly omega-ish and wanted to be pampered, but something raw and desperate.
Blankets were pulled haphazardly from their bed, pillows stolen from the sofa, and there- his heart clenched at the sight- his favourite dark hoodie, the one that probably reeked of his scent after three days of continuous wear, twisted into the very centre like an anchor.
And in the middle of it all, barely visible beneath a mountain of soft things, was Satoru.
Suguru had seen his omega in many states over the years they'd been together. He'd seen him confident and cocky, brilliant and blazing with power, soft and pliant in the afterglow of intimacy. He'd seen him angry, frustrated, deliriously happy, and everything in between. But this- this broke something fundamental in his chest.
Satoru was curled into the tightest ball possible, knees drawn up to his chest, pale skin flushed with fever and damp with perspiration. His usually pristine white hair was matted against his skull, and even from the doorway, Suguru could see the minute tremors running through his frame. His breathing was shallow and rapid, punctuated by small, unconscious whimpers that spoke of deep discomfort.
For a moment, Suguru simply stood frozen, torn between the overwhelming urge to gather Satoru into his arms immediately and the knowledge that approaching too quickly might startle him. The rational part of his mind catalogued symptoms- fever, light sensitivity judging by how deeply he'd burrowed into the blankets, possible migraine given the way he held himself.
But the alpha in him cared about none of that. All he could focus on was the fact that his omega was suffering, and he hadn't been there to help.
Moving with the careful deliberation of someone approaching a wounded animal, Suguru sank to his knees beside the nest. The floorboards creaked softly under his weight, and Satoru's breathing hitched, one crystalline blue eye cracking open to peer at him through the dimness.
'Baby,' Suguru whispered, his voice rough with barely contained emotion. ' Oh, 'Toru .'
The sound of his name, spoken with such tender concern, seemed to break something in Satoru. His carefully constructed walls crumbled, and he made a small, broken sound that went straight through Suguru's heart like a blade. Without conscious thought, Suguru began releasing calming pheromones, flooding the air with the scent of home and safety, of protection and unconditional love.
'Can I come in?' he asked softly, not wanting to invade the sacred space Satoru had created without permission. Omegas and their nests were not to be trifled with, even by devoted alphas.
Satoru's response was barely more than a whisper, muffled by the blankets he'd pulled up to his chin. 'Suguru?'
'Right here, baby. Right here.' Carefully, telegraphing every movement, Suguru began to ease himself into the nest. Satoru had built it just large enough for two, as if even in his fevered state he'd hoped for this exact scenario.
The moment Suguru settled beside him, Satoru seemed to collapse inward, the rigid tension in his frame finally releasing as he allowed himself to be vulnerable. Suguru gathered him close, mindful of what were clearly aching limbs, and pressed his nose into the damp hair at Satoru's temple.
'How long have you been like this?' he murmured, one hand coming up to stroke through those dishevelled white strands.
'Since... since this morning,' Satoru managed, his voice hoarse and barely audible. 'Woke up and everything hurt. The light was too bright, sounds too loud. I just... I needed...'
'You needed your nest,' Suguru finished gently, understanding flooding through him. 'And you needed me, but I wasn't here.'
'Didn't want to bother you at work.'
The words were mumbled against Suguru's chest, but they hit him with the force of a physical blow. The idea that Satoru would ever consider himself a bother, especially when he was clearly unwell, made something primal and protective surge through Suguru's chest.
'Never,' he said firmly, tilting Satoru's chin up so he could meet those unfocused blue eyes. 'You are never a bother. Not when you're sick, not when you need me, not ever. Do you understand?'
Satoru's only response was to burrow deeper into Suguru's embrace, seeking the warmth and comfort that only his alpha could provide. Suguru adjusted his hold, creating a cocoon of safety within the nest, his own scent mixing with the desperate sweetness of Satoru's pheromones until the air around them became thick with the unmistakable signature of a bonded pair.
'Let me take care of you,' Suguru whispered, pressing slow, deliberate kisses to Satoru's forehead, his temples, the sharp line of his cheekbone. Each press of lips was a promise, a claim, a reassurance that he was here now and had no intention of leaving.
Over the next hour, Suguru moved with quiet efficiency, never straying far from the nest but gradually transforming their bedroom into a proper sick room. He dimmed the lights until they were barely more than a soft glow, silenced both their phones, and retrieved supplies from the kitchen- water, paracetamol, the thermometer they kept in the medicine cabinet.
'Just a sip for me, baby,' he coaxed, supporting Satoru's head as he tried to get him to take the medication. 'That's it, perfect.'
Satoru's fever was higher than Suguru liked, but not dangerously so. Still, he made a mental note to call Shoko in the morning if it hadn't broken by then. For now, all he could do was provide comfort, warmth, and the steady reassurance of his presence.
'Hurts,' Satoru mumbled, pressing the heel of his palm against his temple.
'I know, sweetheart. The medicine will help soon.' Suguru gathered him close again, rearranging the blankets around them until they were properly cocooned. 'Better?' he asked softly.
Satoru's response was wordless, just a small nod and the gradual relaxation of his body as he finally allowed himself to truly rest. Suguru continued to cuddle him, continued to stroke gentle fingers through damp hair, until Satoru's breathing evened out into the deeper rhythm of sleep.
Even then, Suguru didn't stop watching him. In the dim golden light filtering through their curtains, Satoru looked ethereal- all sharp angles and delicate features, the fever giving his pale skin an almost luminous quality. Beautiful, Suguru thought, even like this. Especially like this, when all his usual walls were down and he was nothing but pure, vulnerable omega in need of care.
My omega, the possessive part of his brain whispered with deep satisfaction. Mine to protect, mine to care for, mine to love.
Saturday morning crept through the curtains like a tentative suggestion rather than a proper sunrise, filtered and softened by the blackout curtains Suguru had drawn the night before. Satoru surfaced from sleep slowly, consciousness returning in degrees as he became gradually aware of several things at once: his head felt clearer than it had in hours, the crushing weight of migraine pain had receded to a manageable ache, and there was a warm, solid presence pressed against his back.
Suguru's arm was draped over his waist, palm spread possessively across his ribcage, and he could feel the steady rise and fall of his alpha's chest against his shoulder blades. The scent of home and safety enveloped him so completely that for a moment, he simply lay still and basked in it.
The nest around them had been subtly improved overnight- more pillows appearing as if by magic, an extra blanket tucked carefully around his feet, the whole construction somehow more secure and comforting than his fevered attempts at building it the day before. Trust Suguru to perfect even his nest while he slept.
A soft knock at the front door interrupted his peaceful inventory, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone letting themselves in with a spare key. Only one person would be so presumptuous.
'If you two are doing anything disgusting in there, I'm leaving the medicine on the kitchen counter and never speaking to either of you again.' Shoko's voice carried down the hallway, dry and amused despite the early hour.
Suguru stirred behind him, his arm tightening protectively around Satoru's waist as he came awake. 'Shoko?' he mumbled, voice rough with sleep.
'Your medically trained best friend, bringing drugs and judgment in equal measure,' came the cheerful response from the kitchen, followed by the sound of cabinets opening and closing. 'How's our patient?'
'Better,' Satoru called back, surprised by how much clearer his own voice sounded. The fever had definitely broken sometime during the night, leaving him feeling wrung out but infinitely more human than he had yesterday.
Footsteps approached their bedroom, and Shoko appeared in the doorway, dark hair twisted up in a messy bun and wearing what were clearly yesterday's clothes. She took in the scene- Suguru wrapped protectively around Satoru in the centre of an elaborate nest, both of them rumpled and clearly having slept in their clothes- and rolled her eyes with fondness.
'God, you two are disgustingly domestic,' she said, but there was affection in her voice beneath the teasing. She held up a small paper bag. 'Proper flu medication, not the useless stuff you probably have in your medicine cabinet. And electrolyte drinks, because I know neither of you thought to get any.'
'Thank you,' Suguru said seriously, the gratitude clear in his voice. 'What do I owe you?'
'Nothing. Just... maybe text me next time before you both disappear off the face of the earth? I was starting to think Satoru had finally succeeded in giving himself diabtetes.' Shoko's dry humour was a comforting constant, and Satoru found himself smiling for the first time in days.
'I'm fine,' he protested weakly.
'You look like death warmed over, but compared to yesterday, I suppose that's progress.' Shoko crossed to the windows, checking that the curtains were properly closed. 'Keep him hydrated,' she instructed Suguru. 'And don't let him convince you he's well enough to do anything stupid for at least another day.'
'Yes, doctor,' Suguru replied solemnly, and Satoru could hear the smile in his voice.
'Good. Now I'm going home to shower off the hospital smell and sleep for twelve hours. Call me if his fever spikes again.' With that, Shoko disappeared as quickly as she'd come, the front door clicking shut behind her.
'She's gone,' Suguru observed unnecessarily.
'Mm.' Satoru settled back against his alpha's chest, suddenly reluctant to face the world beyond their nest. 'Can we stay here for a while longer?'
'As long as you want,' Suguru promised, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 'How do you feel? Really?'
Satoru took mental inventory. The crushing headache had faded to a manageable throb, his fever was clearly broken, and while he still felt weak and wrung out, it was nothing compared to the absolute misery of the previous day.
'Like I've been hit by a truck,' he said honestly, 'but a much smaller truck than yesterday.'
Suguru's chuckle rumbled through his chest. 'Progress. Are you hungry? When did you last eat?'
The question made Satoru realise that his stomach, while not exactly demanding food, was no longer actively rebelling against the idea. 'Yesterday morning, I think. Before it got bad.'
'Right.' Suguru began to shift, clearly preparing to get up. 'Let me make you something light. Soup, maybe, or-'
'Don't go.' The words escaped before Satoru could stop them, small and more vulnerable than he'd intended. The idea of Suguru leaving their nest, even temporarily, sent an irrational spike of anxiety through his chest.
Immediately, Suguru settled back down, his arm tightening around Satoru's waist. 'Okay. No going anywhere.' He was quiet for a moment, then: 'Would you be alright if I brought some things in here? Made this more... substantial?'
Satoru turned in his arms, studying Suguru's face in the dim light. His alpha looked slightly rumpled, dark hair mussed from sleep, but his eyes were alert and focused entirely on Satoru with that particular intensity that never failed to make him feel like the centre of the universe.
'More substantial how?'
'The blanket on the couch, for starters. Maybe some proper pillows instead of these decorative ones that are about as supportive as tissue paper.' Suguru's fingers found his hair, combing through the strands with gentle touches. 'Food we can eat in here. Entertainment that doesn't require you to move or think too hard.'
The idea was tempting- more tempting than it should be, probably. Satoru prided himself on his independence, on being strong and capable and never needing to be taken care of. But something about the way Suguru was looking at him, the careful concern in every word, made him want to sink into that care and never surface.
'Okay,' he said quietly.
Suguru's smile was brilliant, even in the dimmed light. 'Okay. Just... give me ten minutes to raid our own house and I'll be right back.'
True to his word, Suguru disappeared for exactly ten minutes, during which time Satoru dozed fitfully, too unsettled by the temporary absence to properly sleep. When he returned, it was with an armload of improvements- their blanket, the expensive pillows, a tray of simple food, and what appeared to be half the contents of their entertainment centre.
The new nest was significantly more comfortable, Satoru had to admit. The blanket was warmer and softer, the real pillows actually supported his still-aching head, and the whole construction felt more secure, more permanent. Like something they could stay in for days if necessary.
'Better?' Suguru asked, settling beside him with the tray of food balanced carefully on his knees.
Satoru nodded, then paused as a particular scent caught his attention. Buried deep in the rearranged blankets was his favourite of Suguru's hoodies- the black one that his alpha wore when he was stressed or tired, the one that held his scent more strongly than any other piece of clothing.
'You included your hoodie,' he said, the observation coming out softer than intended.
Suguru followed his gaze, and something complicated crossed his expression. 'You grabbed it when you were building this yesterday. It was... it was right in the centre, like an anchor. I thought you might want it to stay.'
The casual words hit Satoru like a physical blow. He had no memory of consciously choosing that particular piece of clothing, but his omega instincts had clearly known exactly what they were doing. Even in the depths of fever and misery, some part of him had sought out the thing that smelled most strongly of safety, of home, of his alpha.
'I don't remember doing that,' he admitted quietly.
'Your omega knew what you needed,' Suguru said simply, and there was something almost reverent in his voice. 'Even when you couldn't think clearly, you knew to build this around the things that would comfort you most.'
The words sent warmth spreading through Satoru's chest- not the artificial heat of fever, but something deeper and more fundamental. The knowledge that even at his lowest point, his instincts had sought out Suguru's presence, his scent, his comfort.
'Now,' Suguru said, his tone becoming gently businesslike as he lifted the tray, 'soup. Nothing fancy, just chicken broth with some rice. Think you can manage a few bites?'
The smell was appetising in a way that surprised Satoru. His stomach, dormant for the past day, suddenly reminded him that it existed and might, in fact, appreciate some attention.
'I can try,' he said.
'That's all I ask.' Suguru lifted the spoon, clearly intending to feed him, and Satoru felt his cheeks warm with something that had nothing to do with fever.
'I can feed myself,' he protested weakly.
'I know you can,' Suguru replied easily. 'But I want to take care of you. Let me?'
There was something in the request- gentle but underlying with an alpha's need to provide, to nurture, to be useful- that made Satoru's resistance crumble. He nodded, settling back against the pillows, and allowed himself to be fed like something precious and fragile.
Suguru was patient, waiting for him to finish each spoonful before offering the next, murmuring quiet encouragements between bites. 'That's perfect, baby. Just a little more.' The simple domestic intimacy of it was almost overwhelming in its tenderness.
Halfway through the bowl, Satoru began to feel more human. The warm broth settled his stomach and provided energy he hadn't realised he was lacking, and the careful attention from his alpha soothed something deep in his chest that had been anxious and unsettled since the fever began.
'Better?' Suguru asked, setting the empty bowl aside.
'Much.' Satoru settled back into the nest, feeling pleasantly drowsy in the wake of actual nutrition. 'Thank you.'
'Nothing to thank me for.' Suguru's fingers found his hair again, combing through the strands with gentle touches. 'This is what we do for each other, remember? In sickness and in health and all that.'
'We're not married,' Satoru pointed out drowsily.
'Details,' Suguru replied, and pressed a kiss to his temple.
For a while they simply lay together, Satoru drifting on the edge of sleep while Suguru continued his gentle ministrations. The quiet domestic intimacy was exactly what his omega had been craving, and he felt the last of his anxiety finally release its grip on his chest.
By Sunday morning, what had started as a simple case of flu had evolved into something more complex and decidedly less manageable. Satoru woke to the familiar crushing pressure behind his eyes that signalled the onset of a proper migraine- not the manageable headache he'd been dealing with, but the kind of neurological storm that left him nauseated, hypersensitive to every stimulus, and desperate for nothing but darkness and quiet.
The realisation hit him at the same moment as a particularly vicious wave of nausea, and he barely had time to disentangle himself from Suguru's arms before he was stumbling towards their ensuite bathroom, one hand pressed over his mouth.
He made it just in time, dropping to his knees beside the toilet as his stomach expelled what little he'd managed to keep down the night before. The retching was violent and painful, made worse by the way each heave sent spikes of agony through his already tortured head.
'Hey, hey, it's alright.' Suguru's voice came from behind him, calm and soothing despite having clearly been woken from deep sleep. 'I've got you.'
Hands gathered his hair back from his face, holding it gently but securely, while another palm came to rest between his shoulder blades, rubbing slow, comforting circles. The touch grounded him, gave him something to focus on besides the misery currently wracking his system.
'I'm sorry,' Satoru gasped between waves of nausea. ' ’s gross you don’t have to-'
'Stop.' Suguru's voice was firm but not unkind. 'There is nothing about you that’s gross. Nothing. You're sick, baby, and I'm taking care of you. That's all this is.'
Another wave hit, and Satoru was grateful for Suguru's steady presence behind him, for the gentle hands keeping his hair out of the way and the low, soothing voice murmuring reassurances. The nausea seemed to go on forever, his body determined to empty itself of everything while his head pounded with increasing intensity.
When it finally subsided, leaving him shaky and wrung out, Suguru was there with a damp cloth to wipe his face and a glass of water to rinse the terrible taste from his mouth.
'Migraine?' Suguru asked quietly, and Satoru nodded carefully, even that small movement sending fresh spikes of pain through his skull.
'Bad one,' he managed to whisper.
'Right. Let's get you back to the nest, and then I'm making this room as dark and quiet as possible.'
True to his word, Suguru helped him brush his teeth then back to their makeshift sanctuary, then set about transforming their bedroom into a proper migraine refuge. Every curtain was drawn tight, blocking out even the suggestion of daylight. His phone was silenced and placed in a drawer where even the tiny LED notifications couldn't penetrate the darkness. Even the digital clock beside their bed was turned face-down, eliminating its subtle glow.
'Better?' Suguru asked, settling back into the nest beside him.
Satoru could only nod minutely, grateful beyond words for the thoughtful care. The darkness was a relief, and the careful quiet Suguru maintained was exactly what his overstimulated nervous system needed.
'Come here,' Suguru murmured, gathering him close with infinite gentleness. 'Let me help.'
What followed was perhaps the most tender hour of Satoru's life. Suguru seemed to understand instinctively what he needed- gentle pressure against his temples, the steady rhythm of alpha pheromones flooding their space with calm and safety, the soft rumble of purring that seemed to resonate directly with his bones.
When the pain spiked particularly badly, Suguru would cup his face in both hands, grounding him with touch and scent, pressing the softest of kisses to his forehead, his cheeks, his closed eyelids. Not demanding anything, not expecting response, just offering comfort in the only way available to him.
'I've got you,' he would whisper, his lips moving against Satoru's temple. 'You're safe, baby. Just breathe through it.'
Satoru found himself drifting in and out of a light doze, never quite achieving proper sleep but finding relief in the semi-conscious state that Suguru's careful ministrations made possible. Each time he surfaced, his alpha was there- sometimes reading quietly beside him, sometimes simply watching over him with devoted attention, always ready to provide whatever comfort was needed.
'Suguru?' he whispered during one of his more lucid moments.
'Right here.'
'Thank you.'
Suguru's response was a soft kiss pressed to his hair. 'Always, sweetheart. There's nowhere else I'd rather be.'
The simple honesty of the statement did something complicated to Satoru's chest. Even through the haze of pain and nausea, he could feel the truth of it in the way Suguru's scent had remained steady and calm throughout the entire ordeal, in the patient gentleness of every touch, in the complete absence of any frustration or impatience with the situation.
'I hate you seeing me like this,' he admitted quietly, the words barely more than a breath.
'Hey.' Suguru shifted, bringing them face to face in the dim cocoon of their nest. 'Look at me, 'Toru.'
Reluctantly, Satoru cracked his eyes open just enough to meet Suguru's gaze. Even in the near-darkness, he could see the intensity there, the complete sincerity.
'There is nothing about you I could ever hate,' Suguru said, each word carefully enunciated. 'You're mine. Mine to care for, mine to love, mine to cherish- especially when you're hurting. Especially when you need me. You're always beautiful to me, no matter what.'
The words hit him with unexpected force, and Satoru felt his eyes prick with tears that had nothing to do with pain. The absolute certainty in Suguru's voice, the unwavering love and devotion- it was almost too much to process.
And surrounded by the warmth and safety of both their nest and Suguru's devoted care, Satoru finally managed to slip into proper, healing sleep.
On Monday morning, Satoru woke gradually, consciousness returning in slow waves as he became aware of several important facts: the crushing weight of migraine pain was finally, blessedly absent; his fever had broken completely, leaving him feeling weak but clear-headed; and he was sprawled across Suguru's chest like a particularly possessive cat.
Sometime during the night, they had rearranged themselves in sleep, Suguru ending up on his back with Satoru draped over him, cheek pressed to the steady rhythm of his alpha's heartbeat. Suguru's arms were wrapped around him protectively, even in sleep maintaining that careful vigilance that had characterised the past two days.
For a long moment, Satoru simply lay still and appreciated the return to something approaching normal human functionality. His head was clear, his stomach settled, and while he still felt wrung out and exhausted, it was the manageable tiredness of recovery rather than the desperate weakness of active illness.
The soft buzz of a phone vibrating against the nightstand interrupted his peaceful inventory, and Suguru stirred beneath him, one hand coming up automatically to stroke through Satoru's hair before he was even fully awake.
'Morning, baby,' he mumbled, voice rough with sleep. 'How do you feel?'
'Better,' Satoru said, and was pleased to hear that his voice sounded almost normal. 'Much better. The migraine's gone.'
Suguru's arms tightened around him, and Satoru could feel some deep tension finally release in his alpha's frame. 'Thank god. I was starting to consider calling Shoko again.'
The phone buzzed again, more insistently this time, and Suguru sighed.
'That'll be work,' he said apologetically. 'I called in sick Friday when you were at your worst, but I should probably check in.'
'Go ahead,' Satoru said, making no move to shift from his comfortable position. 'I'm not going anywhere.'
Suguru reached for his phone, and Satoru could see the screen over his shoulder as several text messages popped up in succession. Not work, as it turned out, but something much more entertaining.
08:17
utahime
how's the brat
The message was timestamped from an hour ago, followed by two more in quick succession when Suguru hadn't immediately responded.
08:30
utahime
suguru geto
08:34
utahime
i know you're awake
your location shows you're moving around
Suguru snorted softly, his thumb moving across the screen as he typed back.
09:11
Suguru
fever's down
still milking it for cuddles
The response was immediate.
09:12
utahime
that's just his default state
Satoru made an indignant noise against Suguru's chest. 'I do not milk things for cuddles.'
'You're literally draped across me like a blanket right now,' Suguru pointed out, still typing. 'While perfectly capable of supporting your own weight.'
09:12
suguru
true
09:12
utahime
good
glad he's better
don't let him run around yet
09:13
suguru
he's not leaving the nest
promise
'I'm right here,' Satoru protested weakly. 'You know I can see these messages, right?'
'Mm.' Suguru set the phone aside and returned both hands to the much more important task of stroking through Satoru's hair. 'But you're not arguing with the assessment, so clearly Utahime knows you better than you know yourself.'
Satoru could have argued- probably should have argued- but the gentle attention felt too good to interrupt with something as pointless as defending his dignity. Instead, he settled more comfortably against Suguru's chest and allowed himself to enjoy the lazy intimacy of a morning with nowhere to be and nothing to do but recover.
'I should probably shower,' he said eventually, though he made no move to act on the suggestion.
'Probably,' Suguru agreed. 'But not yet. Stay here a little longer.'
It was phrased as a request, but Satoru could hear the underlying note of command in it- not demanding or domineering, but the gentle insistence of someone whose protective instincts were still running high. The idea that Suguru wasn't quite ready to let him out of arm's reach yet was both touching and secretly thrilling.
'If you insist,' he said, as if he were making some great sacrifice rather than doing exactly what he wanted to do anyway.
'I do insist.' Suguru's arms tightened around him possessively. 'In fact, I'm thinking breakfast in bed. Something more substantial than broth, since you're clearly feeling better.'
As if summoned by the mention of food, Satoru's stomach chose that moment to make its needs known with a loud, undignified rumble that echoed through the quiet room.
'Right,' Suguru said, laughing softly. 'Breakfast it is.'
Twenty minutes later, they were settled back in their nest with a tray of what appeared to be half the contents of their kitchen balanced between them. Suguru, it turned out, had taken his caretaking duties seriously enough to stock up on invalid food during one of his brief absences- plain rice, simple broths, bland crackers, and other stomach-friendly options.
'You went shopping,' Satoru observed, picking at a piece of toast that was exactly the right balance of plain and nourishing.
'I may have made a few strategic purchases,' Suguru admitted. 'I wanted to be prepared in case your stomach was still unsettled.'
The thoughtfulness of it- the quiet way Suguru had anticipated his needs and planned accordingly- sent warmth spreading through Satoru's chest. It was such a fundamentally alpha thing to do, this quiet competence in the face of his omega's needs, and it made him feel cherished in a way that went beyond simple affection.
'You're incredible,' he said softly, meaning it completely.
'I'm practical,' Suguru corrected, but there was pleased colour in his cheeks. 'Now eat. You need to rebuild your strength.'
They ate in comfortable quiet, the kind of easy silence that came from years of shared mornings and complete comfort in each other's presence. Suguru seemed content to watch him eat, occasionally offering bites from his own plate when something looked particularly tempting, and Satoru found himself stealing glances at his alpha's profile in the soft morning light.
Even rumpled from two days of sleeping in a makeshift nest, even wearing clothes that had clearly been slept in, Suguru was devastatingly handsome. But more than that, he looked content in a way that made Satoru's chest tight with affection. There was something deeply satisfying about being the source of that contentment, about knowing that his alpha was exactly where he wanted to be.
'What?' Suguru asked, catching him staring.
'Nothing,' Satoru said.
Suguru smiled knowingly, leaning over to press a soft kiss to his lips.
The kiss was chaste, barely more than a brush of lips, but it carried the promise of deeper intimacy once Satoru was fully recovered. For now, it was perfect- gentle and reassuring and full of quiet devotion.
When they broke apart, Satoru found himself smiling for what felt like the first time in days. 'So what's the plan for today? More nest time?'
'Definitely more nest time,' Suguru confirmed. 'At least until I'm convinced you're not going to relapse the moment you exert yourself. Maybe some gentle entertainment, if you're feeling up to it. Nothing too stimulating.'
'What kind of entertainment?' Satoru asked, curiosity piqued.
Suguru's smile turned slightly mischievous. 'Well, I may have acquired some new books while you were sleeping off the worst of it. And there might be a few films queued up on the tablet. Nothing too exciting- we don't want to overstimulate your recovering brain.'
'Books and films in bed,' Satoru mused. 'Sounds perfect, actually.'
'Good. Because you're not leaving this nest until I'm completely satisfied that you're back to full health. Doctor's orders.'
'You're not a doctor,' Satoru pointed out.
'No, but I'm your boyfriend, and that gives me certain privileges when it comes to your wellbeing.'
'In that case,' Satoru said, settling back against the pillows with exaggerated compliance, 'I suppose I have no choice but to submit to your medical expertise.'
'That's right,' Suguru said, clearly trying not to smile. 'Complete bed rest and unlimited cuddles. Those are my professional recommendations.'
'Unlimited cuddles,' Satoru repeated thoughtfully. 'I think I can live with that prescription.'
'Good. Now finish your breakfast, and then we'll see about getting you properly settled for a day of absolutely nothing.'
As Satoru obediently returned his attention to his toast, he reflected on how strange it was that some of his favourite moments with Suguru came during times like these- quiet, domestic, utterly ordinary on the surface but shot through with the kind of deep intimacy that only came from complete trust and unconditional love.
The nest around them still carried the mingled scent of his distress and Suguru's comforting response, but now there was something else layered underneath- contentment, satisfaction, the particular pheromone signature of a bonded pair in perfect harmony. It was a scent that spoke of home in the most fundamental sense, and Satoru knew he would carry the memory of it long after they finally dismantled their temporary sanctuary.
'Suguru?' he said eventually.
'Mm?'
'Next time I get sick, remind me not to try to tough it out alone.'
Suguru's smile was brilliant. 'Oh, baby, you're never getting the chance to try that again. The moment you so much as sniffle in the future, I'm building you a nest and refusing to let you leave it.'
'Promise?' Satoru asked, only half-joking.
'Promise,' Suguru replied seriously. 'You're stuck with me, 'Toru. In sickness and in health, remember?'
'We're still not married,' Satoru pointed out again, but he was smiling as he said it.
'Details,' Suguru repeated, just as he had the day before. 'The important part is that you're mine, and I'm yours, and that's not changing no matter how many times you try to be stupidly self-sufficient when you should be letting me take care of you.'
Satoru curled closer, pressing his face into the warm curve of Suguru's neck and breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of his alpha. 'Guess you really are stuck with me, then.'
'Gladly,' Suguru murmured, his arms tightening around Satoru in a gesture that felt like a promise. 'Forever.'
The word hung in the air between them, weighted with meaning and possibility, and Satoru smiled against Suguru's skin. Forever sounded exactly right- forever of mornings like this, forever of being cared for and caring in return, forever of belonging to each other in the most fundamental way possible.
Outside their nest, the world continued its relentless pace, but here in the quiet sanctuary they'd built together, time seemed suspended. They had nowhere to be, nothing to do but exist in each other's presence, and Satoru couldn't think of anywhere he'd rather spend forever.