"My head hurts,” Jongdae said.

            He huffed when he got no response.

            “My head hurts,” he said just a little louder.

            “What the do you want me to do about it?” Junmyeon glared at him, mouth slanting sideways.

            Jondgdae shifted underneath the covers, squinting up at his best friend (my god, Junmyeon’s bed was so freaking plushy and comfortable, like he could sink into it and never come up for air).

            “I don’t know.” He knew he sounded sulky but he was sick for goodness sakes and he was never sick. This was like. Once every few years, and god he forgot how much his sinuses felt clogged and his whole system was like. Trying to drag him down into the Pit of the Undead.

            “You ,” Jongdae told Junmyeon as he deigned to ignore him and his complaints.

            “Yes,” Junmyeon replied with just the slightest bit of innuendo smugness. “I do. Quite well, actually.”

            “Ugh.” Jongdae didn’t even bother to throw the pillow nestling under his head because a) he needed it and b) he had no strength to. He shivered, drawing the covers closer to himself.

            “You’re still cold? I filched every single blanket from the corners of this apartment and piled it on top of you and you’re still cold?” Junmyeon’s voice, although loud and y, was usually kind of soothing. For Jongdae anyway. He could fall asleep on a soundtrack of Junmyeon’s nagging, if only because he had heard it so many times (and had fallen asleep to his best friend ranting about something before, usually someone who pissed him off that day, actually). Today, though, with all of Narnia threatening to burst from the closet that is Jongdae’s mind and wreck havoc, it felt like gongs banging around. He winced.

            Junmyeon obviously noticed (he only noticed these things but never the stuff that counted – never Jongdae’s curled up smile disappearing after seeing someone else hold Junmyeon’s hand – never that). He lowered his voice. “Did you take your medicine?” in a very resigned tone.

            Jongdae’s voice was feeling hoarse so he just poked his nose into the blankets and nodded. It was still so so cold.

            His eyes were barely closed when he felt something burrowing at his side and he yelped, moving away.

            “What are you doing?” He squeaked, only for Junmyeon’s hands to reach out and put the covers over both of them.

            “Solving the ing problem,” he felt a mumble against his neck as Junmyeon’s arms went around his waist and their chests bump against each other and now Jongdae had an entirely different reason to shiver.

            He didn’t feel like the chill was about to reach into his body and freeze him like a frozen popsicle any more, not with Junmyeon’s heat enclosed all around him. His breathing is more even now, and he tentatively rested his cold feet against Junmyeon’s (covered by socks or else he would’ve been hit for that) and might or might not have snuggled against the comfortable scent of Junmyeon. He allowed himself to melt and sigh a little.

            This was enough. For now.