Author's Note: This is set after the anime. It draws on both the anime and the manga for details, but, at the time of starting this, I've only read the first 4 volumes of the manga. I have a vague idea of some of what happens in the later issues of the manga, so I reference that when it suits me, and ignore it when it doesn't work at all. I suppose that makes this an AU.

Beta-type thanks to Milkshake Butterfly for a few spot checks, and yoyotan-what-is-your-name-here-anyway for suffering through a complete rough draft.

Warnings: There are small hints of shounen-ai floating around this fic. There will probably be larger hints of it as well. There might even be explicit bits later on. I steadfastly insist that it is the characters' fault, and I only type what they want me to. Also, Kyo is a potty-mouth.

Pairings: Yes. No. Maybe. Where does the line between friendship and love really fall? Is it really a pairing if it's unrequited?

Disclaimer: Fruits Basket and all its wonderful characters belong to someone who isn't me. Behold my jealousy, and note that I make no money whatsoever from my Furuba obsession. Please don't sue me, unless you wish to own the dust dragons under my bed.

[1]
It is the nature of the cursed to take on the traits of their spirit even in health. The Snake is overly prone to chills. The Dragon is strong, so it takes a powerful illness to overcome his defenses. When the Dragon is ill, he is not the only one who suffers.
-Sohma Jiro, Tiger, 1875

Hatori ignored the slight pressure in his head and chest as he knelt and waited for Akito to acknowledge him. He hadn't slept well, and now his mind felt slightly hazy--not a good thing when dealing with Akito.

"Hatori."

"Good morning, Akito-san." His throat felt a little odd. Perhaps he should have gotten that cup of coffee before coming. It might have made him a little less groggy.

Akito's eyes were narrowed as he turned to study the doctor. "You are not well." The words were an accusation. Hatori blinked, and started to really consider how he was feeling. Before he could draw his own conclusions, Akito continued, "It was really quite inconsiderate of you, Hatori, to come see me like this. You know how easily I get sick."

"My apologies." Hatori kept his gaze down, hoping not to cause any further annoyance, even as he sought inside himself to be able to deny the accusation. He could hear the soft sounds of fabric moving. Still, he refused to offer any excuses.

The silence was unnerving, but familiar. Akito didn't want excuses, but he did want to... play. "Hatori." Akito was on his blind side--the blind side that Akito had created--and close, trapping Hatori between the impulse to yield to that caressing voice, and the need to hide, run, protect himself somehow. Akito smirked at the careful way Hatori turned to face him. "Hatori, you've displeased me, but I can be forgiving." Oh, please, be forgiving. Akito slowly brushed the hair away from Hatori's good eye, and smiled that small, pleased smile when Hatori shivered faintly. "You are going to go back to your house, and not leave it until I say that you can. You are not to do any of that paperwork you've so carelessly let pile up. You are not to do any housework, either. Your meals will be sent over. Do you understand?" Akito's hand still rested in Hatori's hair, the lightest pressure, not letting him look away.

"Yes, Akito-san." He tried to convince himself that the catch in his voice was from whatever illness was plaguing him, not fear, not the need to obey. He wasn't scared of Akito, and he certainly wasn't scared of where his thoughts would go without the distractions of work. He wasn't.

"Good." Akito dropped his hand and walked back to the window. Relief and loss hit Hatori simultaneously. But... he had not dismissed Hatori.

"Ah, Akito-san?" This was, perhaps, not a good idea, but he hadn't been directly forbidden to ask. "Are you-"

"Hatori." Now there was anger in Akito's voice. "I am no worse than yesterday, and it seems I must repeat myself. No. Work. At all. Do you understand me?"

"H- Yes, Akito-san. No work at all." The room was spinning around him slightly. It seemed that the realization he really was sick was the signal for his fever to spike.

Akito gave him an unreadable look. "I will have Kureno escort you back to your house."

"Yes, Akito-san." He retreated to formality, hoping that repentance might lighten his sentence, even though he knew it wouldn't. Not only was Akito punishing him for something beyond his control, but people would be checking that he stuck to the terms of the punishment. The loss of trust cut much deeper than the anger.

"Wait outside for a moment."

Hatori bowed, though not as deeply as he should have, and left the room. Instead of waiting by the paper screen, as he normally would have, he moved down the hall so that he could lean against a solid wall. He didn't even try to eavesdrop, knowing that Akito was just making sure Kureno knew the terms of this punishment, and, most likely, giving some additional instructions. Well, maybe he did try to eavesdrop, but he was too far away for the sounds to do anything but swim oddly through his ears.

He couldn't come up with a decent excuse for not noticing when Kureno walked up to him.