De-anoning time is a go! I seem to be able to write fluffy stuff for Mikado/Masaomi only when I'm filling out prompts; anything else I come up with is angsty. Why is this happening?
Patience is a Virtue
By – Hime no Ichigo
Pairings: Mikado x Masaomi
Story Type: One-shot
Summary: Really, his best friend should learn some self-control first.
Disclaimer: Durarara! is the intellectual property of Narita Ryougo.
Notes: Written for the Durarara! kink meme, the prompt being "sick!Kida, blaming Mikado for making him sick, even though it was his own fault...as energetic as Kida is he isn't an easy one to take care of so boss!Mikado must force him to rest."
"K-Kida-kun!" Mikado yelps, his twitch causing him to scrawl over his neatly written homework. "Don't do that!"
"Don't do what?" He purrs, breath ghosting over one of the sensitive parts of Ryuugamine Mikado – the shell of his ear. He grins when he feels the body in front of him shudder; it's always fun to mess up Mikado's pace, and they both have their fun out of it—"A-achoo!"
Well, not when he's coming down with a cold – or so Mikado claims.
The dark-haired boy abandons his homework with a sigh, knowing even if he wants to finish, it'll be difficult (in other words, pretty much impossible) with Kida flopped on his shoulders like this. So he untangles his legs from their crossed position and turns around so he's looking at the blond in the eyes, and says, "I said, don't whisper right beside my ear, you know I'm sensitive there. And especially don't do it when you're sick, I don't want your germs all over me."
"Don't even bother starting, Kida-kun. I just got over my cold and it's way too soon for another one—"
"I had to go around your apartment naked because you didn't do the laundry that day!"
"—at the very least, I definitely don't want to get it from you."
Masaomi pouts, put out that Mikado simply ignores his protests. His hands ghost down, down, down to Mikado's hips and starts rubbing there. "It's not serious at all, look at me, I'm the picture of health! The poster child of health!"
"Come on, Kida-kun." Mikado frowns, though it's hard because his lips keep threatening to twitch upwards. And the tiny massages feel good, so it's also kind of hard to tell him to stop. "Who are you trying to kid? Look at you—" he reaches for the tissue box conveniently on the table and grabs the one sticking out. "Wipe your nose, you're not in kindergarten anymore."
There's a loud sniff and Mikado looks scandalized, the clean tissue still in his hand.
The blond doesn't reply verbally. He gives a wide smile instead and shuffles closer on his knees, then slides his hands underneath Mikado's t-shirt. He shivers and ducks his head just a few degrees downwards to hide any oncoming blushes; despite the summer heat, Masaomi's hands are cool to the touch. Any upper and—ooh.
But really, his best friend should learn some self-control first.
The use of his first name surprises him just a little bit; he's too used to hearing the affectionate Kida-kun from years ago. Mikado looks up, and Masaomi's heart does a little skip, because the eyes staring right back at him are a little sharper, a little bluer (have they always been this bright?), and—Kida wonders if he should ask where Mikado buys his contact lenses. (Or maybe he is sick, because his face feels a little hotter just now, but not that he'll admit to Mikado any time soon.)
"Masaomi." Mikado repeats, his own hands reaching under his t-shirt and gripping Masaomi's wrists, slowly drawing them back out into daylight. "I think a lesson is in order. And I think I'll begin in bed. What say you to that, Masaomi?" Mikado gives a little purr at the end, to give the final push – not that he needs to.
Kida jumps on the chance and grins mischievously. "I have no objec—achoo!"
"Good, I'm glad we see things my way," Mikado smiles winningly, pulling both of them up by their still-linked hands. He walks backwards, tugging Kida to his futon. Squatting (and bringing the blond down with him), he releases his grip and none too gently pushes Masaomi so he's lying flat on his back. The next second, he's covered with a blanket already. Then Mikado sits on top of him.
With the blanket in between.
Masaomi whines. And stops when he feels a sneeze tickling his nose.
"Masaomi, you're going to listen to me very carefully." Mikado leans in, inadvertently (or on purpose? Kida can't tell, not when their lips are almost touching and if only he can just reach up a few centimetres—!) applying more pressure on the lower halves of their bodies. "You're going to rid yourself of this cold before we go any further than this. Do us both a favour and get better by tomorrow, because you aren't the only one waiting, okay?"
Mikado exhales softly in Kida's ear, and, satisfied with the obedience, makes his way back to his table, where his homework is waiting. "Oh, and one more thing, Masaomi."
The blond turns his head without ruffling the blanket (Mikado smirks at this, in his head). "If you as much try to pin the blame of getting a cold on me again, I'll make sure you stay bed-ridden for a few days."
Kida's face is darker than pink, but he can't help but grin at the idea Mikado proposes. He hides his face in the blanket – not out of embarrassment, thank you very much – and thinks that he should probably try both options, just for the sake of milking every second he's lost while sick.
- Owari -
Authoress' Notes: I think I have a habit of making Mikado into too much of a mother...meh.