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Perils of Fatherhood

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Guren answered the door with a scowl, and it only deepened at the bright smile on Shinya’s face. He was two seconds from slamming the door when the blond lifted a plastic bag meaningfully, and the smell of curry made him pause. Grudgingly he peeled his fingers off the door and stalked back down the hall into the kitchen. The bastard could close the door by himself, it was three in the morning.

“I also got some medicine,” Shinya announced cheerfully, shaking another plastic bag. “You ran out, right?”

About three years ago, when he realized he could just collapse into bed and sleep it off. “Thanks,” he muttered, grabbing the bag from where it was dangling from slender fingers. He got a cup of water and, ignoring Shinya getting comfy on his couch with the TV volume turned down, walked into Yuu’s room. The small lump on the bed stirred slightly, but it wasn’t until he was right beside the bed that the kid’s eyes opened.

“I smell curry,” Yuu slurred, and Guren scoffed - the brat’s priorities were skewed to hell.

“Take your medicine,” he said without expecting Yuu to understand the words, and it was a relief that the boy managed it. Guren left after making sure the kid had passed out again, and he threw the medicine on the coffee table and collapsed onto the couch beside Shinya.

“Food?” the bastard prompted him, gesturing with a spoon to the one that was sticking out from the rice. Guren grunted and reached out to shove a mouthful into his mouth. Some sort of infomercial was on the TV, and how long had it been since he had seen these.

“I’m not even his dad,” he said, and he hated how lost he sounded even in his own ears. Shinya made a noncommittal hum in response, but didn’t comment. “I don’t even care about him.”

“Mmhmm.” The blond tilted his head. “Is that Yuu-kun coughing?”

He stood before he even realized he had moved. Shinya pulled him back down, laughter in the soft voice, “Sorry, sorry, I was just teasing you.” Guren narrowed his eyes dangerously at the blond, but Shinya only smiled serenely at him and offered the tray of curry. “When was the last time you ate?”

A beat, and he gave in, stuffing another spoonful into his mouth. “You try taking care of a sick brat.”

“Hmm, I think I’m alright,” Shinya said cheerfully, dropping the spoon in the rice to pat him on the knee, “I think you’re a great dad, Guren.”

“Shut it,” he grunted, leaning over to shovel more food in revenge.