A/N: Random, short-ish one-shot for some fluff. Also, this is my first beta-read work! Thanks for MetaTin (a friend of my cousin) for being a wonderful beta reader (or editor, as I keep calling him that). Enjoy, and drop a review if you like it (or want more of my fics)!

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Quintessence

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Megurine Luka is by no means needy. In fact, out of all the female Vocaloid population, she is the most independent. Wait. She's the most mature out of all the Vocaloids period. There's a reason why she's the 'mother' of the group, after all. Miku has atrocious cooking skills and is usually too busy with recordings and whatnot. Rin and Len pull pranks on the other Vocaloids more often than helping them. Meiko and Lily drink almost every other night. Kaito is drunk on ice cream. Even the newer Vocaloids aren't much help. SeeU believes that her life is a Korean drama waiting to happen. IA can be so blank sometimes, and too curious for her own good. Tone Rion, though well-meaning, is too clumsy and ditzy to be of any help.

In a sense, Luka has a wonderful, caring, disastrous family.

The disastrous part is why she won't tell them that she's currently sick. They'd probably turn the house upside down trying to give her medicine or cook her something. Even with her head throbbing ceaselessly and her vision blurring, Luka is convinced that she can still cook some soup. At least, that's what she tells herself.

"My lovely flower, might you be in need of some assistance?"

"No. I'll be fine. I'm fine, actually. Very fine. Absolutely peachy." Luka doesn't even have to turn around to know who it is. Gakupo, obviously. He's usually very helpful, carrying out tasks like shopping for food and cleaning when she's too busy. He would have been the most reliable in the house if it wasn't for his tendency to flirt with her, forgetting everything else in the world during one of his 'sessions' and his tendency to overreact whenever he thinks that his long, lustrous violet hair is damaged (and both occurrences happen very often).

"Are you sure?" He steps closer to her, reaching out a hand. Luke swats it away right before it makes contact with her forehead.

"Yes." It's at that moment that her headache intensifies and her legs weaken, and before her muddled mind can comprehend the situation at hand, she's already falling, her vision turning black.

When Luka does wake up, she's in her bed, a cool compress pressed against her forehead. A bowl of warm soup is placed upon her bedside table, with a note placed under the bowl. Blinking, the pink-haired woman picks the note up and reads it.

My lovely flower,

I had suspected that you were not feeling well. You should rest and take it easy for today—I have announced to the occupants of the mansion to keep the noise level low and not to bother you. You should have also noticed the soup that you cooked before you see this note. I am hoping that tomorrow, you will be feeling well enough to grace us all with your presence.

The writer doesn't give away his identity, but even without a name Luka knows who has written it. Her face reddens, and this time it isn't because of fever. She remembers finding out that the refrigerator has been filled to the brim with various food supplies, waking up to a sparkling clean house and perfectly cooked lunch with everyone's favorite food—and now taking care of her and when she's sick.

How strange. She's never really noticed him before. Sure, she acknowledges his help with house chores and such, and gets mostly irritated (but just a tiny bit flattered) when he flirts with her (because his flirting is just stupidly corny pick-up lines more than anything else). Luka smiles when she reads the letter, and the smile stays even as she eats. She appreciates the work he's done to lessen her workload even though she has never thanked him for doing part of her chores, not even once. Being too busy to say two simple words of gratitude seems too much of a superficial excuse.

So she'll do it now. Luka places the empty bowl on her bedside table and removes the blanket covering her. She's only a little wobbly now—the fever has mostly faded and her head doesn't throb anymore. Striding down the hallway to where the samurai's room is located, she knocks on his door lightly. Hearing a muffled "come in" from within the room, she twists the doorknob and pokes her head in.

"Luka, my dear! Are you feeling better already?" Gakupo, though a little startled, instantly crosses his room in a few steps. He has a hand pressed against her forehead, concern written all over his face.

"You're a little too close for comfort." Luka mutters, pushing him away a little. "But yes, I'm fine now. Thank you."

"Oh? That's only a very simple thing. It's nothing you should thank me for."

"For everything, I mean. In the rare times that I have a recording session and the fridge is mostly empty, or for cleaning up so early in the morning when I'm tired from said recording. Even for cooking dinner or lunch or anything else. Thank you, Gakupo." She flashes him a smile. It's a little awkward to do, since she usually keeps a straight face and occasionally a sigh or two. Smiles and laughter are very rare.

To Luka's confusion, Gakupo's face turns cherry red and he buries it in his hands. He then proceeds to squat on the floor.

"W-what's wrong?"

"You look cute when you smile." He says, after a moment of silence. He peeks up from the gaps between his fingers. Luka can still see hints of red staining his face, and it makes her blush too.

"Ah, um, well." This is the first time that he's complimented her without his silly pick-up lines. Straightforward and honest with a tinge of shyness, and so much different from the usual Gakupo with his flair and flamboyance. Somehow, it's different. He's different. It's so strange, so bizarre. "I… I'll be needing your assistance from now on as well, and I'll probably even tell you to do something… that's okay, right?"

He nods vigorously. "It's more than okay!"

"Thanks again, Gakupo."

Luka used to think that she can do everything by herself, but now, maybe a little help won't hurt.

No, it won't hurt at all.