Gilbert Nightray had a numerous amount of sins to account for in his past.

Among them his three favorites were: fresh cigarettes, fresh coffee, and Oz (—though he wouldn't care to go into detail with that one).


It began at noticing Oz's fever.

Around seven am that morning in the Rainsworth mansion (his routine waking hour, even on lighter schedules), Gil found his most precious person curled up on his small cot together with someone else. He figured Alice must have snuck in late that evening (her long, white nightgown wrinkled up one bare leg touching Oz's; strands of her dark, dark hair masking her softened face) because he had not seen her in Oz's bed originally.

The blonde boy turned away in his sleep from his snuggling companion, his hand flitting upwards towards his chest (where the death clock ticked), and Oz's strangely flushed face cringed as a panicky, weak breath escaped him.

The older man set down his steaming coffee mug on the floorboards to touch Oz's hand curling tight in the material of his nightshirt and used his other to gently sweep across the boy's forehead. Moisture gathering over his brow seeped through the white cloth of Gil's gloves.

Oz's green eyes (cloudy, confused) fluttered open halfway as this happened. He opened his mouth slightly, eyes still struggling to remain awake—perhaps he intended to lie to his best friend about feeling perfectly fine—and coughed unpleasantly loud instead. As Gil moved away, picking up his coffee with intentions to dump it out and fetch Oz some hot tea on the kettle in the next room, Alice stirred.

"What is wrong with him...? Why is he so hot?" She asked sleepily, staring down at the half unconscious boy next to her with slight concern.

"A temperature. Probably from running around outside in the cold for so long...it started raining when we came back..." The knuckles around the tea kettle visibly tightened. "...I shouldn't have let this happen..." The man mumbled.

Alice scoffed a little, "This isn't about you, seaweed head." Gil gritted his teeth at the abhorrent nickname, looking up uneasy as she gasped, as Oz's body gave a great shudder, his green eyes rolling. Forgetting about the tea, he rushed over as the younger boy eventually calmed.

"He needs the sleep for the rest of the day. We should—" The dark haired man hesitated as Oz tugged his sleeve pleadingly, twining his fingers with Alice's nearby. She half smiled at the action before burrowing herself on one side of the boy with a proud smirk.

"We can do things tomorrow, can't we? He's too sick to move anyway."

Another tug to Gil's shirt sleeve.

A tidal wave of protectiveness apprehended him as Oz's cloudy eyes gazed up at him (he WAS worried after all about his young master's current state, especially after the incident with the deceased market girl). Alice looked at him expectantly from under the tuck of one of the boy's arms. There was not a lot of room in the bed to begin with but Gil managed to to scoot himself in enough to keep from dangling off the edge, forsaking the earlier notion of just sitting over them mindfully for the rest of the morning.

And shifting, embarrassed, he realized how truly close they all were physically (his long, adult legs tangled to Oz's not claimed by Alice's legs). Oz didn't seem to mind at all, but in fact, a deliberate smile stole up his feverish features as he sighed.

Small, warm masculine fingers worked between Gil's fingers.

As Gil nuzzled his nose into Oz's shoulder, he thought he heard Alice whisper gladly "thanks..."


Nothing had changed in the present. Gilbert Nightray still had favorites.

That evening, he leaned over the sleeping figures clutching each other, and ran his fingers all through fine blonde hair, and thickened brown curls.




ALL ENDED NOW! PH belongs to Jun Mochizuki. See ItachisNailPolish? I didn't forget about you at all! :) I really hope everybody found this cute...