The stiff door creaked open, leading you into the room of the sleeping detective as his chest rose and fell evenly. Droplets of sweat dotted his skin like diamonds under the dim overcast light as his eyebrows furrowed. A hand to his head revealed a fever. Gentle shake of his shoulder stirred the princely awake, his sleep fill eyes gazed at you.

“Food?”

“Is that even a question?” his bloodied shirt slipped off his arms as he sat up, lean arms flexed as he and adjusted himself against the pillows. Carefully bringing the bowl of salad up to the battered man. No words were spoken through the silent agreement, you would feed the man who did his job and he would eat with no excuses. “Have you eaten?”

“I had some downstairs.” The only the sound of a fork against the bowl filled the void as Himchan munched away. You looked up to see him take the bite, noticing his lingering gaze on you. That unfamiliar warm gaze didn’t break away when you asked why he was staring.

“Nothing” his deep voice came out softly. A hint of a smile cam though the slight curve of his lips. Tousled black locks stuck out oddly as cheeks flushed harder - the fever was rising. Some pain killers, and a bottle of water later, he was about to lie down before you stopped him.

“Move forward” you told the man.

“Another healing session?” You nodded in response.