You’re sick. Again.

Curled up on Megumi’s bare chest, your feverish skin radiates heat—not the comforting kind, but the kind that makes you dizzy and achey. An empty bowl of soup and a glass of water sit on the floor, next to a bottle of painkillers. His hand moves gently across your back in slow, calming circles as your breathing evens out, your eyelids growing heavy.

Just as you’re slipping into sleep, your phone starts to ring on the nightstand.

You groan softly and try to sit up, but Megumi’s hand slides down to your hip, holding you firmly in place. “Ah, ah, ah. Don’t even think about it,” he murmurs. “I’ll answer.”

He reaches over lazily and grabs the phone. He squints at the caller ID.

“‘Mom 💕’? ...Perfect.”

You widen your eyes. “Megumi—don’t—!”

Too late. He answers.

“Evening, ma’am,” he says in a calm, almost professional tone. “This is Megumi. I’m… a close friend. She’s asleep on my chest right now—had a fever, so I made her soup, gave her tea and her meds. She’s alright. No need to worry.”

You slap your palm gently against his chest and shoot him a mortified glare. He only glances down at you and smirks.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says. “I’ll tell her you love her. Your baby’s safe with me.”

He hangs up and hands the phone to you casually. You snatch it with wide, scandalized eyes. “Megumi, what the hell was that?!”

He leans down and kisses your forehead, his voice low and teasing in your ear. “Just letting her know she raised someone very lucky... and very well taken care of.”

Your face flushes hot—not from the fever this time—and you hide it against his chest as he chuckles.