Originally titled Fever Dreams, then re-written to be Fever Dreams II for the kinkmeme. :3

I wrote this story when I was sick, with Izaya being ill, but after I saw a request for sick!Shizuo, I re-wrote it, and now uploading it here, I decided I didn't like the title, so I renamed it too. Lol.

I love a bit of fluff from time to time. So I'm bringing this back in a different light!

"Hngggh," he groans as a cold sweat breaks across a golden hairline.

He twists in the sheets, cocooning himself in them as tightly as he can, and shivers with his honey orbs kept tightly clamped. Though, it isn't as if opening them would do him good. A rough layer of his own illness has them glued shut, while a burning pressure pushes down on his chest and throat.

Unable to suppress an irritation in his trachea, stinging coughs erupt from his windpipe. He trembles, gasping for a solid breath of air.

"Here…" a small hand works its way under his shirt.

The touch is cold and soothing, but the smell is almost too much, even for his infected sinuses. He has always hated vapor rub… and cold medicine… and cough drops…

"Noooo…" he pathetically whines, clutching at the thin wrist attached to the hand.

He knows this is useless, as his frail condition has managed to chase away his seemingly impenetrable strength.

"It will help," a smooth voice dryly states.

Shizuo tries to force his sick eyes open, just enough to glare at his boyfriend; however, his eyelashes are stuck together. Pulling at them hurts. "Nnngh."

Izaya sighs and folds the hot towel around his nimble fingers. This annoys him because the initial intent of the wet rag was for the brute's forehead. Alas, he decides he can always grab another after he wipes away the disgusting film, growing like a scab, over saffron spheres. If he were feeling mean, he'd probably tell the bodyguard that he isn't doing it for Shizuo, but because the crust is grossing him out, and he doesn't want to look at it anymore.

Eyes finally free, Shizuo opens them carefully, immediately finding Izaya hovering over him, bright red orbs the kindest he has ever seen them. Coughing slightly, he smiles. Izaya thinks he looks ridiculous, but can't stop the butterflies from flitting around in his stomach.

"Better?" the raven asks, sounding more irritated than nurturing, even though they both know he'll play nurse until Shizuo is well again.

"Yeah," the sick young man sniffs. "Thanks, Flea."

Izaya places his palm against Shizuo's forehead. The heat stuns him for a moment, and he begins to worry until he hears a significant change in the blond's breathing. The cold medicine is finally working.

"Hm… If your fever gets worse I'm calling Shinra," Izaya informs the man.

"No!" Shizuo protests.. "I'm fine. It's only allergies."

"Tch. Allergies, my balls. You're not fooling anyone with that heinous excuse."

He frowns. "I don't get sick. That's impossible."

"Uh-huh." Izaya rolls his eyes sarcastically.

Shizuo coughs again before explaining himself. "It's true! I'm way too healthy to get sick."

"Is that right?"

"Yeah," he insists.

"And what makes you think you're invincible? That monstrous strength?"

"Something like that. Yeah. Get plenty of exercise chasing you. Never get caught in the rain."

"Chasing me through the city qualifies as exercise?"

"Does now."

"Well your eating habits are shit, Shizu-chan."

"I drink a lot of milk too."

Izaya leans back, chuckling at Shizuo's stubbornness. He finds him more impossible with a temperature of one-hundred-two degrees, than when he's tearing through the streets of Ikebukuro, uprooting heavy metal objects.

When the light laughter dies down, and smiles fade, Izaya drapes another blanket over Shizuo's body.

"I'm going to make some tea," the brunet says, leaning forward to brush his velvety lips across the blond's hot forehead.

Shizuo nods once in approval, and fights to stay awake until Izaya returns. He wonders if this fever is what it means to be "love sick," because fuck. If that's what this is, he needs to recover as soon as possible.