I got the idea for this when I was sick as a dog- I had a nasty cold on top of a severe sinus infection and was on two antibiotics that, together, left me very loopy so that when my mother was screaming about how we didn't have any hotdog buns, I told her there was some fresh cat litter in the fridge. U.U

Anyway, there's lots of fluff and sap cuz when I was sick, I just wanted someone to hold and comfort me like our Strawberry does to our Snowflake. Oh, and they might be a lil OOC cuz I'm still working on learning how to characterize Ichigo, and Hitsugaya is hella sick, so naturally he's not gonna be acting like himself. But I tried to keep 'em IC- I really did. I just dun know how well I succeeded.

PAIRING: IchiHitsu, past KusaHitsu

WARNINGS: yaoi (boi x boi), mentions of rape in later chapters

SUMMARY: An overworked and exhausted Hitsugaya falls ill. Luckily, Ichigo is there to care for him.

NOTE: In this ficcie, Ichi and Hitsu are in an established relationship.

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COMFORT

By Neko Oni

Hitsugaya groaned, massaging his throbbing temples with slender fingers. His head pounded with a vicious migraine; it felt like a giant ten ton Hollow was sitting on his head and crushing his skull. His brain was going to pop from the pressure. He ached all over, and he had difficulty breathing.

His lungs, throat, and nasal passages were tight with thick mucus and snot that blocked the flow of air, making it hard to breathe. His body kept switching from hot to cold; one minute, he was shivering with goose bumps all over him, the next he was sweating and wanted to rip his clothes off.

On top of all that, he was tired. He just wanted to go to sleep, to curl up and escape his aches, pains, and fever. Over the past three days, as he steadily got sicker and sicker, he only slept for a total of five hours. Every time he lay down, the gunk in his nose and throat would completely block the flow of air into his lungs, making breathing impossible and waking him up. At least when he sat up, one nostril and a small part of his throat remained unclogged, allowing a tiny flow of air into his body.

He tried sleeping propped up with pillows in bed, but his fluctuating body temperature also woke him up. He would become too hot, suffocating under his blankets, and throw them off only to become too cold so he cuddled under the blankets again and the horrible process repeated itself.

"I'm fine." He mumbled out loud to the empty office. He couldn't afford to be sick; he didn't have the time. There was too much paperwork to do. He coughed and winced, massaging his sore throat.

He forced open his eyes and picked up his writing brush. His head throbbed, feeling like it was about to explode. The searing pain made his vision blurry; even his eyes hurt. Twice, he missed his ink well, and on his third try, he ended up dipping his brush in his tea and didn't even realize it.

Staring down at the budget report form, Hitsugaya squinted. He could fill it out soon as the stupid kanji stopped swirling. He blinked and rubbed his eyes with one hand, but that only made it worse. Now, his whole desk was blurry; it looked like he had two of everything. He suddenly sneezed viciously, thick snot landing on the crisp paper. The force of the sneeze sent Hitsugaya rocking back in his chair, and he sat there limply with his limbs sprawled, what little energy he had drained. The sneeze made his fluid-clogged chest hurt, and Hitsugaya rubbed it, moaning.

"Nnn…maybe I can…go see Unohana-taichou….get some medicine…just a little bit, then back to work…so much work…" He moaned, his voice thick and raspy with mucus. He grabbed the edge of his desk tightly and pulled himself to his feet. He closed his eyes and waited for the world to stop spinning from the movement of standing up. Once he felt he was balanced, he slowly opened his eyes and took a tentative step forward.

The world titled alarmingly, and he fell into oblivion.

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A black butterfly fluttered through the twisting, sunlit corridors of Seireitei, guiding the way to tenth division. A reckless, gangly orange haired young man in flowing black shinigami robes with a huge sword on his back chased after the butterfly, whipping around corners and barreling over any unfortunate souls in his way.

Ichigo shunpoed after the hell butterfly for all he was worth. As many times as he had been to Soul Society, he still could not remember his way around. He got lost and confused easily because Seireitei was vast and complex, making it very easy to take a wrong turn.

He was anxious to see his frosty little boyfriend, who had, according to Matsumoto, literally worked himself sick. Ichigo had never seen a shinigami ill before, aside from Ukitake-taichou, and he was worried. Hitsugaya's second-in-command had sent a hell butterfly to the living world to inform Ichigo of his boyfriend's illness and to request Ichigo's help in caring for the small, sick taichou.

The substitute soul reaper wasted no time following the black butterfly back to the land of the dead, chasing after it in single-minded determination, but he was surprised when it let him not to Fourth Division, as he expected, but through the barracks of tenth division and the tenth division fukutaichou's private living quarters.

The hell butterfly left him outside the closed door and fluttered off, it's mission complete. Ichigo stared dumbstruck at the wood and rice paper door, scratching the back of his head and wondering what he was doing here. Was the news so bad Matsumoto had to tell him in private before letting him see Toshiro? If that was the case, why her bedroom instead of the office? Stomach knotting, Ichigo didn't bother knocking; he slid the door open, stepped inside, and stared in slack-jawed shock.

TBC…

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