Manato had fallen asleep with you tucked securely against the solid wall of his chest, one of his heavily muscled arms slung possessively over your waist, the other serving as a pillow beneath your head. Your breathing had a way of lulling him into a sleep far deeper than the restless dozes he was used to.

When morning came, he woke slowly, reluctantly, like his body was fighting the idea of leaving this cocoon. His limbs felt heavy, sluggish, but he brushed it off as sleep's residue. His muscular arms only wound tighter around you, dragging you even closer until there wasn't a breath of space left between your bodies.

His face buried deeper into the crook of your neck, nose nudging your skin as he inhaled a long, grounding breath. That scent—your scent—settled something feral inside him that words could never capture.

Manato's ears twitched faintly, brushing against your temple as he caught the tiny shifts in you. The subtle change in the rhythm of your breaths, and the way your muscles stirred against his arm, warned him you were waking up. And with it came the first pang of small displeasure.

A low rumble slipped from his throat before he even realized it. "Don't," he muttered, his voice still gravel-thick from sleep. It was an oddly raw sound, muffled by your skin. He didn't want to move. Didn't want to let go. So he buried himself further, pressing into the hollow of your neck as though he could anchor you both there.

His lips grazed you, slack and unthinking, brushing warmth against your skin. A flash of sharp canines caught the faint morning light before he stopped himself, but the unconscious act had already betrayed him. Instinct over thought. Always instinct when it came to you, it seems.

His tail, however, showed no such hesitation. The lazy swish that had been idly thumping through the night became more insistent now, beating against the mattress in a restless rhythm.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

It wasn't the wag of simple contentment anymore. It was irregular, almost agitated, like his body was caught between satisfaction and some deeper stirring. His breath grew warmer against your skin, each inhale and exhale brushing hotter and heavier, until you noticed it wasn't just affection that clung to him.

There was something... off with Manato this morning. It wasn't just the clinginess, it was a heat that radiated from his own core.

At first, in his half-asleep state, he'd attributed it to you—to your warmth, your closeness seeping into him. But no. Your skin was its usual softness, its usual gentle heat. His own, though... his body felt as if it were burning from the inside out.

The sluggishness from earlier wasn't just sleep after all.

Fever.

That was the logical answer, the one his weary brain could reach for. It explained the way his head felt foggy, his breathing thick, the restless energy he couldn't bleed out. It explained why his skin burned hotter than yours, why even his grip on your waist felt shaky from some rising tension he couldn't pin down.

Just a fever. That's what it had to be... right?