Archive of Our Own ^beta

Izuku had always prided himself on the fact he never really got sick.

Well, that was a bit of a stretch.

Of course he’d gotten sick in his sixteen years of life.

That’s inevitable; a simple part of life.

He’s been sick, but he’s never been, like, out of commission for days, coughing up a lung, or too delirious to function kind of sick, at least. Sure, he got chills and headaches and your run of the mill sore throat over the years, but rarely anything that he would really classify as sick. Rarely anything that knocked him off his feet.

It was surprising, really.

It was a well-known fact that people who had pre-Quirk biological features tended to have a weakened immune system to boot. Quirk evolution had changed humans— strengthened immunity to endure Quirks and all that came with the vast assortment of Quirk types, as well for the human body to begin eradicating biological features that it deemed useless, or that there’s simply no need for, like the appendix and the pinky-toe joint.

The weakened immunity in Quirkless people was actually so common that upon first diagnosis, doctors and physicians tended to offer a specialized Quirkless healthcare plan that did not fall under the regular universal healthcare plan.

Izuku’s own pediatrician had insisted his mother spring for the plan as well after the hard news that he was Quirkless really sunk in. Statistically speaking, Quirkless folk did tend to end up in the hospital more than Quirked—whether that be because they were immunocompromised or because of Quirkless directed hate crimes. It never really was investigated why Quirkless persons were admitted into the hospital so often, just that they were.

It was probably just the government finding yet another way to punish those unfortunate enough to have not manifested a Quirk in an era that revolved entirely around Quirks. A means to shame and isolate Quirkless people, and not to mention that it’s basically just a money grab that Quirkless people have no choice but to comply to considering healthcare is a need in this day and age.

Izuku remembers his mother’s features tensing in that obviously annoyed but trying to keep a professional façade going and she’d glanced down at him, eyes narrowed. She’d agreed to it after a couple tense seconds, because what would anyone think if she’d rejected a healthcare plan suited specifically for Izuku’s diagnosis.

Izuku knows she’d only agreed out of obligation.

He also knows that she’d stopped paying for his Quirkless healthcare by the time he reached seven.

He can’t say he wasn’t scared to not have coverage if anything had of happened— he had grown up with Kacchan and that was about the time his childhood friend started getting rougher at the playground— but he also understood that his mother was essentially paying for an extra that Izuku had used exactly once in the three years since his Quirkless diagnosis.

So, his healthcare had been cut without a word of acknowledgement to him, and he knows, logically, he doesn’t fall under the universal free healthcare. Maybe that’s why he’s so good at doing his own first aid.

He really is lucky that Yuuei privately employs healers like Recovery Girl.

Yuuei hadn’t even inquired about his healthcare, or lack thereof, when he’d first brought home the enrolment papers. He can’t even imagine the embarrassment of getting hurt in class and getting turned away at the hospital for null healthcare.

He really doesn’t know where he’d be right now if he’d never met All Might and managed to weasel his way into Yuuei High School.

He should count himself lucky that he seemed to have been born with a regular, maybe even strong, immune system. Or maybe that he just wasn’t as unfortunate as the rest of the Quirkless population. Either way, Izuku had never been more grateful for the fact that he hardly ever got sick.

It just wasn’t something he could really handle on top of everything else.

After his mother’s time spent at home started getting shorter and shorter, Izuku had to raise himself.

He had to make sure he got to and from school, because if he wanted any shot at being a Hero, he’d need to have good attendance and grades. He couldn’t afford sick days, and he didn’t want to bother his mother either— him not attending school would surely result in a call home, or even her workplace.

He needed to be able to feed himself. He had to be able to get out into the world and shop and be able to cook what he purchased and be able to feed himself. His mother had rarely been home, and when she was, cooking wasn’t something she tended to do. Izuku had picked up the skill of feeding himself quickly— making his own school lunches and dinners or budgeting a school lunch or a convenience store meal into his allowance. It was never overly nutritional, but it was enough to keep him going and keep him full.

The point was: he never had the time to be sick, so it was a blessing that he never really was.

He liked to think it was the universe giving him just that little bit of slack in his life. He was already Quirkless and had been largely on his own in the world from a young age— the least the universe could do was let him work his ass off without sicknesses wearing him down.

It’s not like he had adults in his life that would coddle him if he did get sick— like Auntie who always took the time when Kacchan was feeling under weather to cuddle the boy since Kacchan was clingy when he was feeling bad, or like parents at school he saw arrive in when the nurse would call.

A small part of likes to hope that his mother would show up at some point if the school nurse did call to tell her Izuku was sick— she'd used to come all the time when he was in trouble but... the bigger part of him knows if she didn’t have to arrive in, she wouldn’t.

So not getting sick when he probably would get help, or when he couldn’t mentally take care of himself when he was sick, was a small mercy for the Quirkless kid. He already had to be the adult in his own life— being sick would just make it harder, right?

When Izuku wakes up on Saturday morning, the first thing he notices is how cold he feels. He’s tucked on his blankets, and he’d distantly aware of one of the cats curled up at his feet, but he’s just so cold. He’s cold enough that it feels like he could see his own breath if he had the will power to actually force his tired eyes open.

“Oboro,” Izuku whines, squeezing his eyes shut and bringing stiff frozen fingers up to card through his curls, “you’re too cold to be this close in the mornings.”

“What?” Comes the voice of his ghost friend, a lot further away than Izuku had thought he was, “I literally couldn’t be further from you without leaving the room. I’m all for blaming me when I’m doing bad ghost things, but it’s rude to blame me for things I’m not even doing, ‘zuku.”

Izuku squints his eyes open after he takes a second to process the ghost’s words, ignoring the dull ache behind his eyes as he sits up just enough to locate the ghost. True to the ghost’s word, Oboro is perched on Izuku’s desk with the newest library book Izuku had checked out for him held open on his knee. Oboro’s attention is no longer on the book, though he drags his fingertip along the edge of the pages thoughtfully as his gaze scans up and down Izuku instead of the book.

Izuku squints harder at the ghost. He really is far away—nowhere near close enough for Izuku to be able to feel the chill the ghost lets off. Now that he thinks about it, he can’t even really target the cold source. It’s just cold, and Izuku is cold enough that it feels like Oboro had been laid in bed beside him.

He gives an involuntary shiver.

“Hey... you okay?”

“F-fine,” Izuku answers, ignoring the break in his voice and the scratchy feeling that words bring. “Just cold, I guess. Sorry for blaming you.”

“It’s fine,” Oboro shrugs, finally closing the book and scooching off the desk. “We both know you have good reason to jump to conclusions on that one— but I did learn my lesson about rude ghost wake-up calls being a no-no. And... you know it’s not really cold in here, right? Your window is closed and you’re under, like, three blankets. It doesn’t feel any different to me than it does any other time.”

“You’re a ghost,” Izuku reminds, clearing his throat. He coughs into the bend of his arm before clearing his throat again, “your temperature judgement is null and void.”

“Fish also seems to think your room is a perfect temperature.”

Izuku lets his attention crawl to end of the bd where Fish the cat is in fact spread along the curve of Izuku’s shin. The cat gives a pleased little ‘mur’ at hearing his name from the ghost as he stretches out before curling in on himself with a content flick of his ear. Izuku envies the sleeping cat as exhaustion settles in his bones despite the fact he’d literally just woken up.

Izuku stares down at the purring cat before dragging his attention back to Oboro. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, and the words come out raspy when he replies, “Fish has a built-in fur coat and a normal, ghostly unaffected internal temperature.”

“Fair point,” Oboro sighs dramatically, now sitting on the edge of Izuku’s bed. He hesitates as the boy shivers again, but they both know he’s not close enough to be doing any harm. Izuku really is just cold. “You sure you’re alright? You’re sounding a bit... raspy. Coming down with something?”

“Dry throat,” Izuku shrugs, ignoring the chill settling deeper in his body as he throws the covers off himself, “I just need some water or... or tea or something. I’m fine. I don’t get sick.”

Oboro blinks at the admission, opening his mouth to reply but nothing comes out. The ghost shuts his mouth, blinks once again. There’s an almost bewildered look on the ghost’s face, as he gives Izuku a quick once-over. Oboro’s mouth twists in an uncertain sort of way as he clears his throat, “uh, right.”

Izuku tries not to read too much into the ghost’s words or actions, he has no energy to do so. Plus, all his focus is currently on swinging his legs out of bed, and swallowing down the wave of dizziness that follows the action.

“Anyways, tea would probably be best for you. I mean, for a dry throat,” Oboro tells him, watching with a serious looking expression as Izuku shivers while slipping into his slippers, “green tea with honey. ‘zashi’s cure all for any throat issue! A little fresh lemon’ll do wonders for you as well if we’ve got any. Tasty too. He drank a lot of it through school— works wonders on his throat when he overused his Quirk.”

“Sounds good,” Izuku rasps as he heads for his bedroom door.

His body feels heavy as he moves through the apartment. He feels tired— exhausted. Each step he takes has the ache behind his eyes pounding, and his lungs feel tight in an unfamiliar sort of way. Izuku coughs into the bend of his arm once again, but it doesn’t really help. It just sorta makes him dizzy.

He knows he’s dragging his feet, but he really doesn’t have the energy to care.

“Hey, why don’t you sit down?” Izuku looks back over his shoulder at the ghost, sniffling as he cocks an eyebrow at him. “You look like you’re about to fall over, ‘zuku.”

“I’m not,” Izuku scoffs, though he does make his way to the dining table they have in the kitchen. He plops down gracelessly, curling up into a ball as much as the table and chair allow, “I have to make tea.”

“I can do it,” Oboro chirps brightly, already bounding to the kettle. It’s thankfully already filled, so all he really has to do for that is press down the switch that’ll turn it to heating. Next the ghost moves to the cupboard with all the mugs. “I need the practice anyways, and it’s been years since I’ve made a tea!”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Izuku feels a little more awake as the ghost manages to get the cabinet open, pondering his options of mugs. “You don’t have a lot of practice with consistent contact and... I’m not in the mood to clean up any glass, and I really don’t want to have to explain another broken mug to Shota and Hizashi. They already think I’m clumsy. I can make a tea, Oboro.”

“You have so little faith,” Oboro pouts, “and you are clumsy, you can’t blame everything on me. Now, just you watch, I am going to make you the absolute best mug of tea you’ve ever had in your entire life. And I won’t break or drop a single thing. I’ve gotten better— I hardly ever drop my books anymore! You relax, dude, I got this.”

“Books, ceramic,” Izuku teases drily, swallowing as the dryness in his throat starts to shift to pain, “same difference, right? It’s not like one will shatter if dropped, and the other will be completely unaffected.”

“Exactly!” Oboro chimes teasingly, shooting a cheeky grin over his shoulder as he finally makes his mug selection and carefully pulls it from the cupboard. The ceramic hits the countertop with a little more force than necessary, but it’s still completely intact. “Glad we’re on the same page. Now, watch the master of solidification at work!”

“That’s one of the weirdest things you’ve said to date,” Izuku tells the ghost as he lets his upper body settle on the tabletop. He’s so tired and he hasn’t even done anything. He sniffles again, wincing at the congestion.

He feels awful.

Everything has just been slowly getting worse since he’d woken up— it’s like its... settling.

He’s cold still, and he feels completely drained. His head hurts and his lungs feel heavy and tight in his chest. He’s got a nagging need to cough that he keeps suppressing, and his throat suddenly feels like he’d been gargling rusty nails. He can’t smell a single thing through the now obvious congestion and runny nose— not even the strong scent of lemon he knows the kitchen smells like now, as he watches Oboro struggle to cut and squeeze a lemon, can be detected.

His body gives another shiver as Izuku curls his arms around himself as if to preserve his temperature.

There’s no denying it.

He really is sick.

He supposes there couldn’t really be a better time to get sick this year— they're currently on the first of a three-day long weekend, and since all the students in 1-A had gone home to enjoy the long weekend with their families, the three of them had packed up the cats and returned to their apartment for the weekend.

Izuku had missed the off-campus apartment. It’s cozy, and homey and there’s just a different feel to it than the on-campus apartment, no matter how hard Shota and Hizashi try to make the on-campus one feel the same. It’s the first home he’d really felt safe in— where he’d felt... like a part of something more than just himself. It’s hard to replicate that.

Izuku tenses up at the thought of his guardians.

The reminder that they exist.

“W-wait! Stop, what if Shota or Hizashi see you?” Izuku jerks his attention up to where the ghost is trying to open the honey. Oboro freezes in surprise at the urgency in Izuku’s tone, fumbling with the honey as Izuku continues urgently, “they’ll lose their minds if they walk into the kitchen and see a random lemon or a container of honey floating around! We forgot!”

“’zuku,” Oboro sets the honey on the counter, turning to Izuku slowly, “Shota and Hizashi told you last night that they’d be out this morning. Hizashi has a meeting with his radio station producer and Shota had to stop in at his Agency to discuss an upcoming raid, remember?”

“Oh,” Izuku breathes out, the fight draining from his body as the exhaustion resettles. “Oh, uh, right. Um. I knew that. I... I remember. M-meetings. Right.”

Even as he says the words, he racks his brain for that information. He comes up short. His head feels foggy, and he really doesn’t remember anyone saying anything about meetings. He trusts Oboro though, and if either of his guardians were home, they would’ve called out a greeting, or joined him in the kitchen.

And... now that he thinks about it, Oboro probably wouldn’t have suggested he try his hand at making Izuku a tea if there was a possibility that Shota or Hizashi could’ve walked in on it. Oboro might not be as insistent that the two Pros do not find out about the ghost’s presence and Izuku’s ability to see him, but Oboro is good friend who respects Izuku’s wishes.

“Uh huh,” the ghost scans him up and down, the corners of his lips curling up faintly in a fond sort of way as he turns back to the honey, “of course you did, buddy.”

Izuku scrunches his nose up in offense at the ghost’s teasing tone, “I don’t like your tone,” Izuku sniffles out monotonously, sure his voice sounds as congested as it feels. He sniffles again, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

He only glances up when the ghost makes a squawking sort of noise.

“Gross, man,” Oboro whines as he steps carefully to the table with the mug of tea.

Izuku sees the steam rising off it and holds his breath as the hot liquid gets closer. He winces as the ghost gets closer, mug cupped between his hands and his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrates. Izuku knows if Oboro makes one wrong move it’ll be him wearing the scalding beverage.

Oboro manages to get the tea to the table with the only spill being when the ceramic touched down on the table.

“That could’ve been a lot worse,” Izuku hums as he wraps frozen fingers around the warm drink. He can’t really smell, but he can faintly taste the honey and lemon in the stream rising off the drink.

It’s far too hot to sip at, though now that he has it in front of him, all he can think about is the calming he knows it’ll provide his scratchy throat. He sniffles again as he blows at his tea.

Blowing doesn’t really help cool it down, so, instead he hovers his face over the rim, closing his eyes as he enjoys the warmth. He wonders if the steam will help with the congestion.

“Snarky,” Oboro pouts theatrically, disappearing from Izuku’s sight, even as his voice still carries into the kitchen, “see, there you go again; having no faith in your favorite ghost. Honestly, I should be offended, but instead, here I am making you tea, and delivering you tissues so you don’t use your sleeve like an animal. The number of germs you just wiped onto your sleeve, dude, is mind-blowing.”

A box of tissues appears in his line of sight as the ghost rants dramatically, and then Oboro collapses dramatically into the chair at Izuku’s side, careful not to get too close. The playfulness has subdued and now the ghost is scanning him with a concerned look, “anything else I can grab for you?”

Izuku wonders how bad he must look to warrant such a soft tone.

The green-haired boy shakes his head as he pulls a tissue from the box. He barely manages to bring the tissue to his nose when a sneeze catches him by surprise. He wipes at his nose and leans heavily against the table, curling one hand around the mug of tea and bringing it close so he can feel the warmth of his on his cheek while curling his other hand still holding the tissue under his chin.

“You’re really not looking very good, Izuku,” Oboro tells him softly.

“I’m really not feeling great,” Izuku confides in a whisper without opening his eyes, “I think I’m sick.”

“No,” Oboro gasps, tone a perfect balance of teasing, fondness and exasperation, “really? I never could’ve guessed that. Now, what did you say this morning about it just being a dry throat...?”

“It’s rude to bully sick people,” Izuku mumbles out against the side of his mug. “I didn’t feel like this when I woke up. I feel awful now.”

“I know,” Oboro sympathizes, “you didn’t look this bad when you first woke up either. I thought you might’ve been getting sick but didn’t want to push it when you were so insistent you weren’t. Guess you didn’t really realize it yet. Sorry you’re feeling so awful.”

“At least I have a couple days off to get over this,” Izuku lets out a raspy, humorless laugh as he finally pushes himself back up and sips at the still steaming hot tea. The first sip burns his aching throat, but the second soothes the ache away. “I can’t really taste this, but I’m sure it’s great. Thank you.”

“I hope so,” Oboro offers a light smile, “It’s been a lot of years since I’ve made anyone tea, but you’re welcome. Anytime. Is it helping at all? You sound pretty sick and... I’ve never seen you like this. I don’t know how to help; I don’t even know if I can help.”

“It helps,” Izuku decides after another sip. He savors the warmth on his tongue and the soothing effect the honey and lemon have, “I haven’t been sick like this in ages. I don’t really get sick. I don’t even remember the last time I felt like this.”

Izuku coughs into the bend of his arm, staring down miserably into his tea. He takes another sip before abandoning the mug and crossing his arms over the tabletop. He sets his cheek against his forearm, head feeling heavy.

He knows he should be getting up and heading back to his room.

With any luck he’ll be able to sleep off some of the symptoms, so he doesn't have to worry Shota or Hizashi. And he should try to keep the germs contained. He'd hate to get either guardian sick. It would be a lot worse if either of them got sick— they have real responsibilities and people relying on them. Izuku doesn’t want to be the one to pass on this awful cold.

Izuku sniffles again, shifting just enough so he can rub the tissue still in his hand under his nose. It tickles and makes him feel like he’s going to sneeze again— and he does.

He feels gross. Sweaty and clammy, but also freezing. He knows his hair is greasy too, and he’s sure he doesn’t look great on top of everything else. His nose already feels raw from wiping it, and he knows his eyes have been watering due to the congestion.

He doesn’t want his guardians to see him like this.

He doesn’t want to burden them with this when they’re already busy. And it’s their days off too. Any time when they’re not teaching or responsible for dozens of teenagers is considered a day off, even if they have other obligations like patrol and agency meetings, or, in Hizashi’s case, radio show stuff.

He wants to push himself up, but he really doesn’t have the energy. He doesn’t even think he’d be able to make it back to his bedroom in his state. The thought of even sitting up straight make him feel dizzy.

Izuku coughs once, which prompts a bit of a fit. He struggles to cover his mouth, and winces at both the deep, awful sound of it, and how it tightens his lungs. There’s an awful taste in his mouth when the coughing settles down.

He manages to pick himself up just enough to sip at the tea. He still can’t quite taste anything but the acidic lemon and faint after tones of honey, but it does wash the bad taste away.

“You really don’t sound good,” Oboro says softly, and when Izuku lulls his head in the ghost’s direction, he’s unsurprised to find a deep frown on the ghost’s face, “I can’t really help you much— making tea just about exceeds my limits. I can’t even really tell if you’ve got a fever or something. Don’t you think you should call Shota or Hizashi or something?”

“I’m a bit sick, not dying,” Izuku scoffs, wincing as the noise flares pain in his throat. “I’ve been taking care of myself for years; I don’t need to b-bother them with this. I’ll be fine. I... I always am.”

“A bit sick? Dude, it sounded like you were trying to cough up a lung just a second ago,” Oboro deadpans, detached tone doing nothing to hide the concern in his eyes, “you obviously have a fever— how high, I couldn’t tell you, but you're all flushed in the face. And tea is nice and all, but it’s not cold medicine. You sound like you’re dying.”

“I’m not dying,” Izuku rasps out, pulling another tissue from the box and blowing his nose. He lets his head fall back down onto the table, ignoring the thud of his forehead hitting the wood.

He curls his hands against his neck, shivering once again as he lets his heated cheeks soak in the coolness of the tabletop. He’s so cold, but he also feels hot and stuffy. He knows he’s sweaty— he can feel the clamminess on the back of his neck and on his face.

Izuku sucks in a stuttery breath, biting back the cough that threatens to come out.

He doesn’t know how long he stays folded over the kitchen table. He’s distantly aware of Oboro sitting unmoving at his side, and his tea steadily cooling off to the point it no longer offers any warmth. He’s aware of his own gravelly breaths, and the ache behind his eyes. The insistent need to cough, and how each swallow of saliva sends shocks of pain down his throat.

“Izuku?”

Izuku stirs from his state of dissociation, putting in the effort to lift his head.

His eyes first flick to Oboro but... that wasn’t Oboro’s voice, was it? And... Oboro’s attention is on the other side of the room. Izuku slowly drags his attention in the same direction, swallowing down the muted surprise of finding Shota stood with two grocery bags in his hands.

Oh.

He’s home.

Izuku hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t even heard the front door unlock or open or heard the man’s footsteps or the called out greeting Izuku knows Shota would’ve offered as he kicked his shoes off.

“O-oh, Shota,” Izuku swallows hard, trying to clear some of the rasp from his voice, “um, h-hey.”

“Hey,” Shota replies easily as he steps into the kitchen, setting the bag of groceries on the counter before turning completely to Izuku with an unreadable expression, “you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Izuku ignores the congested slur of his own voice, clearing his throat as he drags the ball of his palm over his eyes to wipe away the wateriness from the congestion. “Why?”

The way Shota blinks at Izuku has the teen feeling like he’d just asked the world’s stupidest question, but before he can apologize and excuse himself for being an idiot, the man speaks without so much as a glance at Izuku, “did you know cats have an amazing sense of smell? They’re able to detect chemical and hormonal changes in their human’s bodies. They’re very in tune with their humans.”

Izuku takes a second to process that, watching as Shota unloads the groceries he’d picked up. Izuku muffles a cough into the bend of his arm before sinking back in his chair and accepting defeat. He’s not in the right headspace to figure out Shota’s riddle, so he settles for a croaky, “what?”

Shota turns back to Izuku now, holding a can of tuna that he shakes, “if the flush on your cheeks and the glassy glaze in your eyes didn’t clue me into the fact you’re not feeling well, the cats flocking towards you and refusing to leave even for tuna certainly would. Now, Kiddo, wanna try answering one more time?”

“I mean,” Oboro chimes in lightly, “he does have a point with the cat stuff. And you do look awful, no offense. Might as well accept fate, you know he won’t accept anything but the truth.”

At that, Izuku squints once again as he processes both the man’s and the ghost’s words before he finally looks around himself. All three cats are within reach, which he hadn’t even realized.

Nemo is the furthest away, perched on the chair across from Izuku. She’s close enough that you can tell she’s actively trying to be close to Izuku, but not close enough that he could reach out and touch her. All he can really see of her is squinted eyes and her ears. She’s also glaring at an unaffected Oboro.

Blanket is flopped over on the table, right beside Izuku’s arm. He’s honestly surprised he didn’t feel the cat settle beside him. The cat’s eyes are shut, and his body rises and falls with even breaths. Izuku thinks if Blanket was the kind of cat to purr, he probably would be.

It takes a second longer to find Fish, who Izuku is even more surprised to find curled up like a little loaf of bread on Izuku’s lap. The old cat is tucked between Izuku’s chest and the table but is contently snoozing. He hadn’t felt Fish jump onto his lap, nor heard the steady purrs rumbling in the cat’s chest.

How had he missed that?

How out of it was he?

Izuku swallows again, tearing his attention away from the cats to find Shota still watching him. The small of his back is leaned back against the counter, and his arms are loosely crossed over his chest. He makes no move to come any close, despite ho he’s scanning Izuku up and down thoughtfully.

“I...” Izuku whispers, fiddling with the cold mug of tea just as something to do with his fingers. He doesn’t know why it feels like he’s admitting to some dirty secret when he already knows Shota can see he’s under the weather. “I really don’t feel very well.”

Shota’s features soften as he pushes off the edge of the counter.

He crosses the kitchen and settles at Izuku’s side. Izuku angles himself to look up at the man, feeling his eyes water as he attempts to swallow down another cough.

Izuku startles when a gentle hand cups his forehead, pressing flush against him. Shota’s fingers are calloused, but cool against his heated skin. Izuku leans into the touch, shuddering as the cool hand stirs up the lingering chill he’d been feeling all morning.

It feels so nice, but he’s still so cold.

Shota’s hand remains on his forehead for a good couple seconds before he pushes his hand back, dragging wayward green curls with it. Izuku shudders again at the nice feeling.

“You’re very warm,” Shota observes, the grimace that had been on his face gone the second he notices Izuku’s hazy gaze on him. “Definitely fevered. We’ll get the thermometer and take your actual temperature when you’re settled. For now, what are your symptoms?”

“Sore throat,” Izuku offers first, swallowing another sip of tea when he’s reminded of said sore throat. “I can’t breathe through my nose, and I have a cough that hurts a little. Headache... I think it’s just a cold. And... and I’m freezing...”

“You’re probably right about the cold,” Shota agrees softly, scanning Izuku’s face. His hand has dropped from Izuku’s head to brush the backs of his fingers across Izuku’s flushed cheek, “I’m sorry you’re sick on your long weekend, I know you had plans with Hitoshi. We’ll probably have to cancel on him— I don’t want him catching your cold and bringing it back to the dorms on Monday. You, at least, can stay up in the apartment if you’re still not feeling well.”

Izuku frowns, “ah... I guess. I don’t want him to catch this anyways. I should isolate myself from everyone so no one else gets sick. You and Hizashi are busy and—”

“No,” Izuku freezes at the man’s stern, yet not unkind, tone, “you’re not going to isolate from us, Kid, we’re going to take care of you. We want to take care of you. You’re still a kid, and you’re allowed to want to be taken care of. When we signed up to foster, we signed up for everything, including you getting sick.”

Shota hesitates, dropping his hands to his sides, “I won’t stop you if you do want to quarantine yourself in your room, but you don’t have to if you think you’re doing it for our sake, and I don’t think you really want to, do you? Besides, we’re never too busy for you, so don’t worry about it, alright? Focus on getting better and let Hizashi and I help as your guardians. We want to be there for you, Kiddo, and I know it’s not what you’re used to. Just... try to understand, alright?”

Izuku doesn’t say anything, but he does offer a pathetic nod. He feels a little overwhelmed. There’s a pressure behind his eyes that he can’t figure out if it’s the congestion, or an overwhelming need to cry. Either way, he can feel his eyes watering again. How Shota and Hizashi always manage to target his insecurities in any given situations is beyond Izuku.

“I see you made yourself some tea,” Shota observes, “did it help with your cough? Honey is supposed to be very soothing for a sore throat and cough. Would you like another to sip on?”

“I think I’d like another... It helped a bit—” Izuku glances back and for the first time since he entered the kitchen, his eyes settle on the counter.

“Oh God,” Izuku croaks out, staring wide-eyed at the mess he hadn’t realized the ghost must’ve left. There’s lemon juice on the counter, and Oboro hadn’t thrown anything away. The honey is still out, as is the knife and cutting board he’d used. Guilt pools in Izuku’s stomach at the state of the counter, “I am sorry about the mess! I... I-I forgot about it! I didn’t mean to leave the kitchen like that—”

“Don’t worry about it, Kiddo.”

“Ah, sue me,” the ghost whines, “we should all just be proud I managed to make a damn good cup of tea in the end. And I kept you alive, didn’t I? Besides, what’s a little mess to today’s victory, right? I just can’t win with you people!”

Izuku drags his gaze away as the ghost throws his hands up in playful surrender, just fishing for a smile from Izuku at this point. “I really am sorry,” Izuku offers his guardian, dropping his gaze to his lap in an attempt to hide the small smile twitching onto his lips. “I feel bad.”

“It’s alright,” Shota waves him off, as he throws away the butchered lemon halves and used tea bag. “No harm done. At least you started getting fluids into you, that’s all that matters. Besides, cleaning when you’re sick is the worst. I’m surprised you even managed to stand at the counter long enough to make your tea in your state.”

“Ah...” Izuku winces, glad his guardian is already facing the counter and focused on making him another tea, “yeah... um, it was a struggle. I got a little dizzy, and I just needed to sit down so... b-but I was going to clean it up though!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Shota says again, glancing back over his shoulder, “it’s fine.”

In no time at all, Izuku has another perfectly made tea in front of him. It smells just the same as the first, or... maybe he can only smell the same fragrant components coming through his congestion.

Definitely honey and lemon still.

Once again, Izuku lets his face absorb the steam, eyes fluttering shut in contentment. Shota is still tidying the kitchen, and Oboro is still beside Izuku. The cats have all left— Nemo down the hall, and Blanket sprinting from sight when Shota shooed him off the table. Fish had remained longer than the other two cats, but he’d also left when Izuku’s body had bent in half with a violent coughing fit.

“Are you ready to lay down?” Shota asks when he’s finally finished tidying. He cocks an eyebrow at Izuku, who startles. “We can get you set up in your room, or on the couch if you wanted to watch some TV while you rest. It’s up to you, but either way I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

“Oh!” Oboro cheers, perking up, “living room, living room! Let’s watch a movie! C’mon, Izu-chan, you know you wanna watch a movie! We can even watch an All Might film! I bet Shota won’t even complain since you’re sick!”

“M-maybe the living room?” Izuku asks shyly.

“Of course,” Shota nods, giving Izuku a small smile, “why don’t you go change into some clean pajamas and grab your blanket and I’ll go find you some meds and the thermometer?”

“Okay,” Izuku agrees meekly.

He knows the pajamas he’s wearing now are sweaty, and there’s still snot on the sleeve from where he’d used the sleeve as a tissue without a thought. The sound of putting on nice clean ones sounds really good to his foggy head.

When Izuku makes his way back into the living room, he’s unsurprised to find both Shota and Oboro waiting. The man is sitting on the couch, whereas Oboro is sprawled in the loveseat.

Shota notices him first and gestures him over by patting the couch cushion beside him.

Izuku blinks owlishly, moving forwards on autopilot without giving himself a second to hesitate. He settles at the man’s side, pulling his blanket over himself and cuddling in. It’s only after he’s completely comfortable that he realizes he’s using Shota’s lap as a pillow.

A hand settles on his hairline before he can panic and push himself up and away from his guardian, and Izuku instantly wilts at the silent assurance.

Shota takes his temperature and refuses to tell him how high it actually is—

“Yeesh, 103.7 °F (39.8 °C), no wonder you’re so out of it; your head’s like an oven,” Oboro, on the other hand, has no qualms about telling Izuku how high his fever is, when he peers over the back of the couch as Shota reads the thermometer.

Izuku feels miserable where he lays.

His blanket doesn’t offer much heat. His head is cloudy, and he’s sure there’s tears in his eyes. There’s another tea on the coffee table, as well as a bottle of water, but neither are appealing. His throat aches at the thought of drinking, and a cough burns at his lungs and throat.

A movie is turned on, but it’s really just white noise to him. Even when he glances at the screen it just makes the pain behind his eyes throb. Still, Oboro is happy to watch, so Izuku tries to ignore how the flickering colours make his head spin even with his eyes closed.

The last thing Izuku really remembers before giving into sleep is something cold being set on his forehead— a cold compress, or a damp cloth maybe— and soft fingers massaging into his scalp and playing with stray curls.

Izuku wakes slowly, coming to bit by bit.

The first thing he notices are the fingers in his hair. They’re soft, and gentle. The fingers put pressure on all the right spots and card gently through his hair. He instantly relaxes into the touch.

The second thing he notices is the heavy cough he’s choking on.

It’s deep and comes right from the bottom of his lungs. It sounds about as nice as it feels, phlegmy and painful. It feels like he can’t breathe for a second, and then there’s a hand on his back, and it pats so gently, effortlessly calming the intense coughs.

When the coughing fit settles, the hand transitions to stroking light lines along his spine.

Izuku curls closer into the warmth, faintly feeling his blanket pulled back up to his shoulders.

The third thing he notices are the voices— soft and almost over his head. It takes a second for him to manage to tune into listening. He feels floaty, and nothing really feels like it makes sense. He barely manages to string the sentences he’s hearing over his head together.

“Do you think we should we contact Shūzenji?” A pause, before the voice continues, low and fretful, “that cough sounds pretty bad.”

“Not yet,” comes the reply, gentle fingers still moving over his back, “coughing is good, remember. That means what’s in his lungs is coming out. His fever’s come down a bit too, so if he’s still bad by tomorrow afternoon we can give her a call and see what she thinks. It is her long weekend as well, let’s not bother her unless we have to.”

“Okay. Ugh, I knew he was going to get sick,” the first voice tuts quietly, sounding a little closer. “I should’ve planned ahead— been prepared...”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I definitely suspected he might get sick.” There’s a third hand on him now, another person, if his lagging brain is doing the math right, just faintly pressing against his forehead. He subconsciously tries to push closer to the warmth it brings, “he was soaking wet when he came back to the dorms on Thursday. That rain came out of nowhere, and it’s not like he would’ve thought to bring an umbrella or a jacket. Who would when it was supposed to be cloudy all evening?”

There’s another pause as the hand on his forehead drops down and something that feels faintly like a thumb strokes along his cheekbone gently, “he’s just so warm to the touch. I don’t like it.”

“Kids get sick, Hizashi,” the first voice consoles softly, “that’s a part of life. I mean, you spent every other weekend with a sore throat through high school, and Oboro used to turn up delirious with fevers from getting caught in the rain. Damn idiot liked the rain too much, hardly cared he was walking around near hypothermic. Izuku has a cold, he’ll be just fine when the fever breaks.”

“No need to bring that up, Shota,” a new voice clips out. “You are so lucky the kid’s asleep, or I’d be offended that you’re telling embarrassing stories about me.”

“I know, it’s just different when it’s your kid,” the second voice mutters fondly, “I hate seeing him like this. I hate hearing him sound so miserable. I hate him hurting, and knowing there’s nothing we can do to make it stop...”

Izuku shifts, another cough shaking his frame.

The hand resumes the gentle pats on his back and the fit dies down, “we’re doing what we can. We just have to keep him comfortable and monitor his fever. Besides, I’m sure all parents feel like this when their kid gets sick. I know my sister does when Hitoshi gets sick. It’s just the first time our kid’s sick.”

“Yeah,” the second voice sighs. “Has he had any fluids? Those both look untouched.”

“Two teas; one before I came home, and I made him one,” the first answers easily. “He stirred for a while about an hour ago, but he didn’t want to drink anything when I tried to get some water into him. He just flipped onto his stomach and went back to sleep.”

“Good thing I picked up some Pedialyte for him then. Can’t have him getting dehydrated. I grabbed a couple different cold medicines too, and some ibuprofen and acetaminophen. I don’t know what he’s used to when he’s sick, but figured it couldn’t hurt to have on hand, ya’dig? Oh, and a couple different flavors of cough candies too.”

“So you just grabbed the whole pharmacy on your way home?” the voice closest to Izuku teases, the fingers on his head scratching gently in a way that Izuku would definitely be purring if he was a cat. “How come you’re never like this when I’m sick?”

“I panicked,” the second voice whines softly, but playfully. “I just want him to feel better, you know? And we both know you’re like a feral cat when you’re sick. I’m lucky if you let me check your temperature. Angry feral cat, or cute clingy baby— which would you rather coddle?”

“Fair point,” the person at Izuku’s side vibrates with a snort of laughter.

“And,” the voice further away continues, “you never know when any of us will be sick again, right? Always better to have than to not have at all. I’m sure our baby would be feeling much better right now if we’d had medicine on hand, even just something to help with the coughing.”

“He’s sleeping just fine now,” the first voice says. His pillow shifts, and Izuku curls closer into it as the voice continues as the hand in his hair settles on his forehead for a second before brushing his bangs back, “we’ll give him something when he’s awake. And check his temperature again too. He doesn’t feel much different, but I know fevers are supposed to get worse in the evening.”

“Poor kid,” the second voice coos, “I doubt he’s had anything to eat today either. We should have something easy to stomach ready for when he wakes up. Do you think he’d like okayu?”

“Probably,” the first voice hums in reply, “it’s a comfort food, so it’s probably a safe bet.”

He fades again after that. The conversation settles into silence, and the only thing to be heard is All Might’s voice turned to the lowest volume setting coming from the TV.

The next time Izuku wakes up, he’s a bit clearer headed. He’s still wrapped in his blanket from his bedroom, but now, instead of being on his stomach with his head pillowed on Shota’s lap (which is mortifying to think about, honestly), he’s curled on his side and inclined so he's almost sitting, while still laying. It feels really nice on his chest.

He can tell he’s not curled into Shota’s side anymore. He’s not sure how he knows, but he can tell. That said, he relaxes all the same. There’s an arm around his shoulders, and there’s still fingers in his hair. His cheek is pressed against someone’s chest, head tucked under their chin.

The tv is no longer playing an All Might movie, but the volume is still on low. Hizashi is watching it, reading the subtitles at the bottom of the screen while he absentmindedly cards his fingers through Izuku’s hair.

He blinks tired eyes open and looks up at Hizashi, who only glances down with Izuku shifts a little.

“Sunshine,” the man coos softly, “there you are. You've been out for a couple hours. How're you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Where’s Shota?” is the only thing he can think to ask, voice rough from both sleeping and the rasp of his sore throat. He asks as he curls in closer to the man’s chest, squeezing his eyes shut as he enjoys the closeness of Hizashi. He doesn’t mind that the man’s gone, and that Hizashi is with him now, it’s just a bit disorienting to know Shota had been his pillow all afternoon and now the man’s gone.

“He just needed to use the restroom and stretch his legs a bit. Now I think he’s making himself a coffee and stirring dinner,” Hizashi offers, petting Izuku curls down. “And I wanted a turn cuddling you; totally not fair that he hogged you all afternoon, yeah? I’m sorry you’re not feeling well, Sunshine.”

“’m okay,” Izuku mutters into the man’s shirt on instinct. “m’ throat hurts.”

“Awh, I’m sorry to hear that, Sweetheart,” Hizashi frowns. “Did you want to take some medicine and have something to drink? I made some okayu if you’re hungry. We just have to take your temperature before we give you any fever reducers, so we know when it’s starting to break, okay?”

Izuku nods his head, rubbing his eyes and sniffling.

He feels a little better after sleeping all afternoon, but there’s still that insistent need to cough in his lungs, and the ache in his throat feels like it’s gotten worse. He knows it ridiculous to think he’d magically get better after a nap, but it’s still a little upsetting that he still feels so awful.

Hizashi pulls away just enough to grab the thermometer and the water bottle off the table before he’d right back to holding Izuku close. A quick temperature check and a couple hesitant sips of water later have them cuddled right back.

He coughs into his arm again, and Hizashi takes Shota’s place in rubbing at his back.

It really is amazing how that helps dissolve the coughing fit.

Izuku thinks he might be embarrassed later— first Shota and now Hizashi, but right now he’s too exhausted to be worried about that. All he knows is he’s warm and content and he doesn’t feel as awful as he had that morning.

“I heard the kid,” Izuku cranes his neck to where Shota is coming into the room, a couple different bottles of cold medicines and an electrolyte drink in his arms, along with a steaming mug of coffee held in his hand. “Hizashi went a little overboard at the store, so there's a couple different medicines for you to choose from. We’d like you to drink some Pedialyte though, you haven’t had much to drink since this morning.”

Izuku pulls his feet in and shifts enough so he’s sitting beside Hizashi instead of taking up the rest of the couch. Shota doesn’t hesitate to plop down on the other side of him after safely putting his mug on the coffee table.

“Some of these might make you drowsy, but sleep is probably the best thing for you,” Shota tells him as he lines the different bottles of cold and flu medicine up along the table. Lastly, he untwists the Pedialyte and hands that to Izuku before retaking his mug and sipping at the coffee.

“You should eat something before you go back to sleep though,” Hizashi adds. “If you’re feeling up to it, at least. You probably haven’t eaten anything all day though, so you should at least try.”

“’m a little hungry,” Izuku winces at how rough his voice sounds. He takes another sip of his drink, but it doesn’t really help. “Can we eat now? I’m... I’m really tired and I’d like to have some medicine.”

“Of course, Sweetheart,” Hizashi coos, ruffling Izuku’s hair softly as he pushes himself up. “I’ll be right back. We can eat in here tonight. Shota, do you want some okayu too?”

The man gives a hum that almost sounds like an answer, but Hizashi must take it as one because he disappears into the kitchen without another word.

Izuku instantly misses the warmth of his guardian, so he turns to his other side where Shota is still sipping at his coffee. The man glances over, almost like he’d felt Izuku’s gaze on him, and simply lifts his arm so Izuku can wedge himself against Shota, ear pressing over the man’s heart. Fingers once again settle in Izuku hair, and Izuku’s eyes slip shut as he melts into his guardian.

“I was unaware we had four cats, Problem Child,” Shota teases, continuing his ministrations even as he continues to sip at his coffee. “Can’t say I blame you; I like when Hizashi plays with my hair too.”

“Feels nice,” Izuku manages out as he sinks lower in the comfort. He’s so tired.

“Don’t fall asleep now, Hizashi will be sad if you don’t at least try his okayu.”

“That’s a cruel guilt trip,” Izuku mutters without opening his eyes.

He feels his guardian’s chest rumble with a quiet laugh, “it worked though, didn’t it?”

“I should sleep now just to spite you,” Izuku sighs, blinking his eyes open and glancing up at Shota with tired eyes. “I still don’t feel very good.”

“I know,” the man replies, shifting so he can set his cheek against the top of Izuku’s head. “The medicine will help. We’ll have some dinner, you can drink some more Pedialyte and then we’ll get some medicine into you and get you off to bed. You can sleep on the couch again, but you’d probably be better off in your room. Nothing to disturb you, and we can stack up some pillows so you’re not lying flat. Hopefully that’ll help with the cough.”

“Mn, okay,” Izuku agrees with a sniffle.

He likes the couch, but he does think he’d sleep better in his own room.

“Wherever you choose we’ll still keep an eye on you tonight. Your fever isn’t worrying, but it is fairly high, especially considering you usually run cold. I don’t expect it to break tonight, but we don’t want it to get too high. We’ll try not to wake you, but we might need to if your temperature gets too high.”

Izuku nods, just to let his guardian know he’s listening. They fall into a comfortable silence after that as they wait for Hizashi to return. Izuku attempts to swallow a couple times, but just seems to make his throat angrier. Hopefully the warm porridge will go down smoothly. He really is hungry.

Hizashi returns with two bowls of steaming okayu that he hands to both Shota and Izuku before returning to the kitched for just a second to grab his own bowl. It is very good. It’s a little bland, but Izuku is glad for the fact. It’s easier down. He eats about half of it before calling it quits and guiltily putting the rest of it aside.

Hizashi assures him that he doesn’t mind, and that he’s just glad Izuku ate something. He sips at his electrolyte drink some more as his guardians finish off their own servings of okayu.

Oboro had been worryingly quiet since Izuku woke up, but the ghost is really just busy watching the tv that’s still playing some show Izuku doesn’t know. He can just barely hear it, and nothing about it makes any sense. Maybe it’s the haze in his head, he doesn’t know.

Either way it keeps the ghost entertained, which is all Izuku can really ask for.

When bedtime finally rolls around, Izuku is exhausted. He’s so tired, and it doesn’t make any sense when he thinks about the fact he’d slept in late and napped for half of the day.

He takes a dose of one of the medicines, and lets his guardians lead him into his room and get him set up in bed. Shota makes sure he was a water bottle and the Pedialyte, while Hizashi stacks up pillows behind him to keep him elevated in the night.

“Don’t hesitate to come to us if you need us, alright, Sunshine?”

Izuku nods, feeling more like a child than he ever remembers.

His covers are pulled up to his chin, and his stuffed cat is clutched in his arms. The angle he’s laying has calmed the storm of coughs in his chest and the cough medicine is quickly taking effect. Shota and Hizashi are sorting out his room— making sure the window is shut and fluffing his pillows. Oboro is seated on the desk watching over the scene with a fond expression, the book he’ll spend the night reading still set on the desk from that morning.

He blinks his eyes shut and finds he can’t seem to force his heavy eyelids back open. He doesn’t try all that hard to be honest. He can tell when the light flicks off, even with his eyes closed.

He’s just about asleep when he feels a hand pushing his bangs back, and then something—lips, Izuku thinks— are pressing against his forehead. He doesn't know if it was Shota, or Hizashi, but there’s something so comforting about it, like when Kacchan had said his mom’s kisses made everything alright when they were just little kids.

Izuku had never understood that. Not when they were children.

How could something like a kiss make you feel better?

He didn’t get it back then.

But... but he does now.

Izuku can’t help the small smile that curls onto his lips as he sinks deeper into his bed and the comforting feeling warming up his chest.

He finally falls asleep to the sound of quiet footsteps leaving his room, and the quiet flutter of pages of a book turning.

Izuku is sick for the entire three-day weekend, as well as the following Tuesday when classes return. He still has a lingering, rough cough, so he ends up sleeping the remainder of his cold off in Shota’s sleeping bag on the couch in the teacher’s office. Izuku had no idea that the teacher's office couch was as comfortable as it is, it really explains why Shota spends so much time napping in there.

He’s completely better by Wednesday morning.