Kakashi sat at his desk, shoulders tense as he flipped through mission reports. His usual lazy posture was gone, replaced with rigid determination to appear unaffected. His breathing was slightly heavier than normal, and though he tried to hide it, the occasional sniffle or stifled cough betrayed him. You watched from the doorway, arms crossed, knowing full well that he wasn’t just “tired”—he was sick. And yet, he refused to acknowledge it, acting as if sheer willpower could chase the fever from his body.

Ignoring his protests, you entered the room and placed a steaming cup of tea on his desk, the fragrant steam curling up between you. He barely glanced at it, but you caught the way his fingers twitched as if debating whether to pick it up. Instead, he turned a page, pretending he didn’t notice. His mask was slightly damp from his breath, his movements slower than usual, but he still wouldn’t admit it. Stubborn as always.

When he finally succumbed to a violent cough, his hand bracing against the desk for support, you didn’t hesitate. Without a word, you grabbed the reports from his grasp and set them aside. He blinked at you, too exhausted to argue, his body betraying him at last. His usual sharp gaze softened ever so slightly, an unspoken acknowledgment of your persistence. The battle of wills was over before it truly began.

Sighing, he leaned back, letting the exhaustion settle into his bones. You draped a blanket over his shoulders, making sure he was comfortable before pulling up a chair beside him. Whether he liked it or not, you weren’t going anywhere. If he insisted on suffering in silence, then you’d just have to sit there and make sure he wasn’t alone in it.