Luhan tosses in a tangle of sheets, unable to sleep any longer while enmeshed in the coarse cotton of his—wait, no, that’s not right. Cotton isn’t coarse; it’s not silk, but Luhan remembers going out with the members and buying six matching sheet sets that were all not only a nice, grown-up, heather gray color, but also very soft.

He’s unbearably hot too, but maybe also freezing? He’s shivering, at least, so he really wants the sheets, bed spread, and extra winter comforter to be basically smothering him, but when Luhan tries to make that happen, the cotton brushes against his skin again and it practically burns him. Okay, so maybe rug burn is a more accurate description of what that felt like, but Luhan’s falling apart here—are semantics really the most important at a time like this?

He can't help , because everything hurts—whether he’s under his sheets or he isn’t—and because Luhan can smell delicious wafts of coffee (and is that hanwoo beef?) coming from the kitchen but he’s too…whatever he is to go out and get some. He tries louder, hoping that whoever is making breakfast today will take pity on him and bring him something in bed, but then reconsiders the sounds he’s making—just in case the cooking member thinks he and Jongdae are getting it on in their room.

Speaking of Jongdae, he isn’t in the room. Ah, Luhan thinks, it must be him who will deliver the goods! Luhan moans louder. Or he tries to, but when his voice cracks in a horrible throwback to his preteen days and then refuses to work altogether, Luhan gives up and instead settles on whimpering pitifully. He lays there for a while, trying to figure out what exactly it might be that’s got him feeling so out of it, when something he read the night before comes to mind like a light bulb going off above his head. At that Luhan sits up so quickly that he nearly falls off the bed since his equilibrium is apparently messed up too; it takes him a few moments in which he clutches his head and tries not to cry at the pounding he’s just incited within his skull, but Luhan eventually manages to take a deep breath and call out a scratchy “Jongdae!”

It’s rare that one of EXO’s oldest members uses anything other than a casual nickname when referring to his dongsaengs; Jongdae knows this, hears his full name, and comes running. Luhan’s feeling pretty hazy at this point—his headache is worse and he’s still shivering, despite feeling like if he pulled off his skin he might be a little less heated—but he’s still lucid enough to recall why he wanted Jongdae in the first place, even if he isn’t aware enough to be embarrassed by it.

“Something’s wrong with me.” Luhan puts his cutest face on and hopes it still works, what with him feeling like crap and all.

Jongdae raises an eyebrow and the movement sends drips from the wet hair of his bangs down his nose; he must have just gotten out of the shower, Luhan thinks—as if the younger member’s bare chest and loosely tied white towel around his waist wasn’t indication enough. If this were any other time, Luhan might have blushed; as it were he just kept talking, eyes staring fixedly on the hint of a six pack and the barely visible happy trail leading down into the towel.

“You smell really good,” he adds sweetly.

Jongdae snorts and crosses his arms; Luhan tries to gulp because he feels like that’s an appropriate reaction to the rippling of lean muscles that Jongdae’s action causes, but it hurts too much and he whimpers again. The sound gets Jongdae, who’d up until then been standing in the doorway, to walk fully into the room, expression concerned. It doesn’t, though, keep him from teasing “Well you don’t,” in response to Luhan’s compliment.

Luhan sniffs, annoyed at Jongdae's lack of cooperation. His nose might also be dripping a little, but what of it?

"Somethings wrong with me!" He reiterates. "Whatever happened to sympathy?!"

Rolling his eyes, Jongdae makes his way to his bed and sits on it so that he is facing Luhan directly. His legs are spread with the towel hanging between them to hide everything interesting; Luhan wishes it wasn't there, honestly.

"Fine," Jongdae concedes after a long battle of exchanged glares which Luhan loses because looking at anything—except for Jongdae's pecs, apparently—for too long seems to make his headache ten times worse. "What do you need? There's probably hot water left from when Min made coffee. I could make some tea?"

Luhan's first reaction is to shake his head in rejection of that idea; he is soon close to tears at the pain the movement causes him. He speaks instead, then, since his body is clearly failing him.

"I need you," he pauses and bats his eyelashes prettily, "to knot me."

Jongdae springs away from Luhan and gapes at his Chinese group member open mouthed—once he's far enough away, safe with his bed between them.

"Luhan! What the actual ?"

"I'm in heat!" Luhan tries shouting back; it comes out as a squeak.

"Are you insane? Knot you? What the hell?" Jongdae just isn't getting it. He shoots Luhan a suspicious glare. "Did Yixing–I mean, you're not high, are you?"

That's it. Luhan doesn't understand what Jongdae doesn't understand; he was very clear about his needs, after all. He tosses himself back to laying in a heap on top of the covers of his bed. For the third time he says "Dae, something is seriously wrong with me."

Cautiously making his way back across his bed and over to Luhan's to place a tentative hand on the elder's forehead so he can check for a fever, Jongdae agrees. "I'll say. Did you forget to get a flu shot again this year?"

Huh. Maybe Luhan did forget; at any rate he doesn't currently remember whether he did or didn't. Still "Is that what really matters right now!?"

Jongdae's fingers, still tracing Luhan's hairline along his forehead, flick him there. "Well," he speaks slowly since Luhan's acting like a child, "it might explain what's got you all whiny."

Luhan gestures toward Jongdae's half body. "You've got me all hot and bothered," he accuses sleepily. "That might explain it too."

He's soon puffing out soft and steady breaths as he succumbs to the exhaustion of being sick—with the flu. Jongdae laughs at his band member lightly, taking care not to wake Luhan up when he whispers "I'd still be happy to sleep with you, Lu-Lu."

Luhan mumbles something about alphas—at least that's what Jongdae thinks he's saying?—and Jongdae adds "Just maybe not when you're contagious."

He leaves then, hand gripping the towel close to his waist as he steps quietly out their bedroom door and shuts it gently behind him. When Luhan wakes up some hours later he still feels like he's being eaten alive by his aches and pains, but there's a cup of tea next to his bed too, and he thinks that sort of makes up for things.