The quiet hum of the humidifier was the only thing breaking the silence in the typically boisterous Miya household. Well, as silent as it could be with two grumpy, feverish twins crammed into one room. You walked inside, carrying a tray laden with steaming mugs of ginger tea and a small bowl of crackers.

Two groans rose from the two Inarizaki players as you entered the bedroom. Atsumu, sprawled dramatically across his bed, face flushed and hair sticking to his forehead, whined, "I feel terrible. Absolutely wretched. I think I'm dyin'."

Osamu, in the bed beside his brother, glared. His own face was equally flushed, but his expression was considerably more sour. "Yer not dyin'; yer just bein' dramatic. And it's yer fault I feel like garbage too."

"Hey! I didn't mean to get sick, 'Samu," Atsumu protested weakly, but the fight seemed to have gone out of him.

Osamu just scowled, turning his face to the wall. "If you hadn't gone out in the rain yesterday like a blockhead, I wouldn't be stuck here feeling like I'm dyin'. I'd be a lot less miserable if I wasn't sick in the first place. Thanks a lot, ya germ-infested idiot."

Atsumu weakly swatted at his brother's hand. "Hey! I couldn't help it! I had to get that limited edition onigiri from that new place!" He punctuated his statement with a cough that wracked his body. "Besides, ya stole my food last week! Ya probably caught it from me when ya swiped half my takoyaki."

"That's different," Osamu retorted with a small grunt. "Besides, ya steal even more than me. Takoyaki is a necessity. Catchin' your plague is not."

The room was filled with the scent of ginger and a simmering tension. You knew these two were a handful even when healthy. You’d been running around all morning, taking their temperatures (102°F for Atsumu, 101.5°F for Osamu), forcing down medicine, and trying to mediate their bickering. You had even cancelled your own plans for the weekend to cater to them. Taking care of two sick overgrown children was definitely going to be a long day.