I totally blame Seas by BlackBee for this- but in a good way, for giving me the idea to do this. The base idea is that Naruto caught a cold and Kurama is left taking care of him. Laryngitis is a legitimate thing, and is caused by colds. It's the loss of the capability to use the vocal cords due to swelling.

Disclaimer: No. Just... no.

Illness

Something wasn't quite right with the world, Kurama concluded looking around at the silent, blank expanse that surrounded the stone ground he laid upon. Naruto's mind had always been in motion in some way – the black sky a reflection of the world as the blond perceived it; the feel of wind flowing through his fur from the breeze of Naruto flying through the forests at incredible speeds; the smell of spices permeated the air as the blond joined his comrades for food. And then there was Naruto himself; Naruto, the one who filled the void with sounds when there were none to be had; Naruto, who regularly visited and spent long periods of time talking about anything and everything to the one person who knew him best.

Naruto, who was currently laying atop the crest of Kurama's head, asleep. It was extremely odd, he mused, that the first time Naruto consciously appeared before him and was quiet, the blond was asleep. All the other times, ranging from the blond's first conscious appearance four years previously to the early days when the the teen was a babe that would appear within the strange mindscape to be consoled by the chakra imprint of his parents while they glared balefully at Kurama, Naruto had made some kind of noise to be noticed. Now, though, it was... different. He remembered the first time Naruto had clambered atop the Biju, laying down and stretching his reach as far as possible, threading his hands through his crimson fur, and saying how soft the Biju's fur was–

Kurama let out an extremely undignified (and embarrassingly, amazingly high-pitched) shriek as a line of wet and warm liquid trailed it's way down his neck and along his spine from the lump that was Naruto. He twisted and turned, trying to stop the flow with one of his paws (because he'd be damned if he had to use his tails; he liked his tails to be prim and proper at all times thankyouverymuch), only for a light thwack from Naruto to halt his movements.

"St'p m'vin'." The blond grumbled, his (incredibly hoarse) voice coming from the source of the disturbing wetness that had made it's way almost halfway down his spine. Kurama wasn't sure if he should be relieved or disgusted by the revelation that it was drool running down his neck and not something much... different, and from the other end of the blond's body.

The two had gotten considerably more relaxed around one another, but Kurama drew the line at bodily functions (especially on his fur).

"...why are you drooling on me?" And not on something that was not-Kurama? Really, the least Naruto could do is materialize a bed to drool on instead of him.

"...c'mfy." Naruto finally muttered, and Kurama shuddered as another line of drool flowed down his neck to join the first. His fur puffed up in (half-hearted and empty) indignation as Naruto essentially dismissed him to go back to dreamland. Kurama sighed, laying his head down on his forepaws (if he couldn't stop the drool, at least he could prevent it moving down his neck and spine any more than it already had) as he tried napping.

The next day saw Kurama staring intensely at Naruto as the blond laid at the base of his tails. More specifically, he was staring at Naruto's mouth, waiting for the drool he just knew was building up in the teen's mouth to spill out. Once it did, he was prepared to relocate the dozing blond to somewhere less dangerous to the integrity of his tails, like his paws. He didn't care if Naruto drooled all over his feet, really.

The blond twitched, curling into a tiny ball, a grimace contorting his face as he shivered, pulling himself closer to the base of one of Kurama's tails (Kurama's eye didn't twitch; really, it didn't). The moment Naruto's body made contact with the tail, the Biju became aware of just how hot the blond was (and not in the attractive way – which Naruto certainly was – but in the higher body temperature than normal way).

"Naruto?" Kurama asked, concerned for his (probably more than a) friend. Said friend twitched in response, curling tighter against the Biju's tail, but made no verbal attempt to reply. "...are you... okay?"

...Kurama really needed to work on his social skills.

Naruto shook his head into the fur (Kurama tried really hard not to wince, because there was still a high chance of drool on his precious tails). Kurama tried to prod a better answer out of the blond, because he knew this behavior was uncharacteristic for (his, he thought possessively) Naruto.

"You know you can tell me anything. If there's something wrong, I would prefer that you tell me now, instead of informing me after the fact." Which was a reasonable assumption, Kurama thought, given that Naruto was kinda reckless like that. He didn't doubt that, if he weren't aware of every fight and mission Naruto participated in, the blond would have long since landed in the hospital – or worse.

It was the 'or worse' that worried Kurama more. The hospital meant healing and okayness; 'or worse' meant not-okay, which was most assuredly not okay for Kurama's health (okay, so any threat to Naruto's health was a threat to Kurama's continued existence, but the point stood; he really did worry about his Naruto whenever the blond cut the Biju off from the outside world). If it were possible, Kurama was sure that a good deal of his fur would be gray from worrying about Naruto.

And it would start going gray one of these days, as Naruto just shook his head again, digging deeper into the base of Kurama's tail.

Kurama's face lost all emotion, setting into what could only be described as stubborn determination.

Fine. If Naruto wanted to keep him out of the loop, then Kurama would just force himself into the loop.

With Naruto here in the mindscape (and Kurama's tails would just have to take one for the greater good, irrelevant of how much the thought of drool on his tails freaked him out more than he would ever admit), it would be laughably easy to take the reigns, so to speak, of Naruto's physical body, and learn for himself from the well-endowed granddaughter of Mito whether Naruto really was okay. Kurama tried to quash the guilt of taking control without Naruto's knowledge or permission, but he'd make it up to Naruto somehow. He didn't know what he would do (or what he could do, given his situation), but he would definitely do something for his blond. Maybe–

Pain. Hot. Sore. Hurt to move. Sweaty. Sticky. Mouth is dry, can't breath through nose and area around head is wet from drool pouring out of mouth. Everything was so hot but outside the bubble of hot was freezing–

Kurama pulled out, returning to his body as he took stock of what had just happened. He looked at Naruto, shocked at that brief glimpse into Naruto's current state of being, which was decidedly not okay. His Naruto was not okay; Naruto was, was...

Ill.

The word floated up from the depths of his mind, supplied from the many years spent with Mito (the woman had been personification of the phrase 'stubborn as a mule' when it came to imparting knowledge). With it came other, similar words (sick, virus, fever) that meant the same thing – Naruto was unwell, and needed to be taken care of until he was well again.

Yes, Kurama nodded to himself, I will take care of Naruto.

...but how? He couldn't do anything as a Biju, since Kurama's large size precluded him from doing anything outside of being a large, fluffy pillow for Naruto to lay on for however long it took for the blond to get better. Nor could he do anything while in control of Naruto's body, since he would be afflicted with the sick. Although... if Naruto used that clone jutsu of his (and if the clone wasn't ill like the original), and Kurama took control of that, then just maybe...

That could work.

Kurama lifted one of his forepaws, (very) gently nudging Naruto (and fully prepared to whether any onslaught of drool on the tail the blond was clutching) with the top of one of his claws. Naruto's entire body shuddered at the contact, but a half-hearted swat at the claw was Kurama's cue to inform Naruto that he was briefly going to take control of the blond's body for a few minutes. The Biju waited patiently (and nervously, since any sort of disapproval from his blond would be accepted either way) for a response, counting the seconds until, at last, Naruto waved his hand and moaned what sounded very much like approval.

So Kurama was back in control, in the body that was far-too-hot, far-too-sticky, and hurt far too much to be anything good. He lifted the arms (Naruto's arms, he reminded himself), muscles screaming in protest as he formed from memory that strange hand sign that Naruto used when he made clones, pushing chakra (his chakra? Naruto's chakra? Did it matter?) into the jutsu as he created a single clone, one that would (hopefully) last long enough for Kurama ensure Naruto was well and truly healthy once more.

He heard the tell-tale poof that signaled the creation of the clone, but Kurama didn't dare open his (Naruto's) eyes, only knowing that his chakra had been halved, which fit what he understood about the workings of the clone jutsu. It hurt bad enough existing – Kurama didn't want to know how much seeing hurt. He pulled back, giving control back to Naruto before reaching out with his senses for the Other, latching onto it and pushing himself into it, taking complete control of the Other. When Kurama next opened his eyes, it was to staring down at a sleeping Naruto in their apartment.

I did it... I did it!

"It worked." He breathed, before pausing. "Weird." His voice sounded much the same as when Naruto handed over control of his body, except... different. Like his original voice, but considerably less 'scare the pee out of you' rumbly and more 'remove your clothes and beg me to take you' rumbly. To preserve some semblance of self-dignity, Kurama would refer to it as his sexy voice from that point on. If any of the other Biju found out (like Saiken – that slug was always looking for some excuse to mock Kurama), it would be a nightmare.

But there were more important things on his mind that needed attention, such as the presently not-healthy Naruto laying before him.

...now what?

Kurama took a good, long look at Naruto, eyes fixating on the puddle of drool and sweat the teen was laying in. After several seconds of staring, the Kurama-clone nodded to himself, diving into the cupboards in search of clean, dry bedding. After finding out where Naruto kept his food, clothes, weapons, and scrolls (by the gods, the scrolls!), Kurama was irritated at the distinct lack of any sort of spare sleeping materials. There wasn't even a spare futon; what did the idiot do on those chill winter nights, tough it out?!

It was entirely too possible that Naruto did tough it out, but Kurama was certain that his blond was smarter than that. Which meant that somewhere there existed a spare futon; somewhere Naruto had easy access to it when he was so quintessentially Naruto and needed it in the middle of the night when it was coldest–

Oh.

He got down on his stomach, looking beneath the bed, directly at the spare futon (right where Naruto would keep it, of course). Reaching out, the futon was yanked out from beneath the bed, bringing with it a cloud of dust that had Kurama pulling away on his hands and knees trying not to hack up a lung.

"Hell, Naruto." Kurama coughed, windmilling his arms to try to dissipate the stubborn cloud of dust. "How do you live like this?"

Naruto did nothing in response, but Kurama could see that part of the dust cloud had settled down on the sheen of sweat that coated the blond's skin, making him look ashen. Kurama shook his head in amusement, reaching over the bed to open the window to let the cool breeze whisk away the lingering dust cloud before taking the futon out onto the porch to shake it free of (the evil) dust, barely avoiding inhaling the cloud that exploded out of the futon as it was cleared. When he returned inside the apartment, futon under arm, he saw that Naruto had fallen off of the bed, taking the blanket with him (but, Kurama thanked the gods, not the drool-soaked pillow), and was now staring at him with hazy, half-lidded eyes.

"Hey." He could practically taste the awkward of the situation, since he doubted Naruto would be likely to understand what was going on–

Except the blond was looking at Kurama like he had no idea who he was, which worried the Biju unimaginably.

"Naruto," and boy was he glad when his blond recognized his own name. "it's me. Kurama. You know, the Biju you've got sealed in you that nobody talks about or even likes thinking about?" When his blond still didn't recognize him, Kurama kept talking. "I took control – remember when I asked you – and made a clone. I may look like you–"

And Naruto was shaking his head, and mouthing what Kurama could only presume was 'no' repeatedly.

"...and what do you mean by 'no'?" He frowned. "Because I do look like you – or I should. I'm not exactly clear on that part, since it's obvious I don't sound the same as when I'm in control of your body..." He trailed off at Naruto's staring, clearly unimpressed at the rambling. Right... "Long story short, I'm here to care for you until you're healthy again."

Naruto just stared at Kurama like he had no idea what was going on (which wasn't too far a reach, he reasoned, since it was Naruto), but it didn't matter. Kurama had the clean futon, and with Naruto already awake and off of the dirty, sweat-and-drool-coated futon, it would be far too easy for him to replace wet with dry; but the second Kurama took a step forward, Naruto pulled back, mouth wide and gaping as hands scrabbled to the bedside table, where the blond kept his supply pack, before retreating in a full-body wince, clutching his throat.

"Naruto?" Okay, if Kurama wasn't highly concerned about his blond before, he certainly was now. He darted forward in an attempt to comfort (himself) Naruto, only to be met with protesting arms and half-hearted fists pounding on his chest. "Hey. Hey!" The pounding didn't let up, and Kurama started to find it irritating, pulling Naruto into a tight embrace (that was not a hug). "Naruto!"

Naruto twisted in the tight grip, protesting the embrace as much as possible, but Kurama weathered the movements, sure that his blond would run out of energy soon. Without warning, one of Naruto's arms got free, a fist making its way right into Kurama's face. "Gah!" He pulled back in surprise, dropping Naruto as he clutched at his nose out of reflex. "Dammit, brat, listen to me! I will not sit by while you lay on me and drool on my tails until you're healthy again!"

Naruto froze mid-crawl, looking over his shoulder at Kurama with wide eyes, and Kurama nearly sighed with relief.

"Finally." His hands dropped down, away from his face (and most assuredly not covered in blood, thankfully) as he leveled his gaze at the crawling blond. "Now, are you done protesting so can we get back to me caring for you so that you're not drooling all over my tails?"

Naruto didn't say anything (which really worried Kurama; a silent Naruto was never a good thing), but Kurama figured that the blond laying down on the floor was as close to agreement as he was ever going to get. Bending down, he laid the clean futon down over Naruto, who curled into a tiny ball at the cold fabric, but still the blond was silent.

"Naruto?" Kurama bent down, looking at the ill teen in concern. "Why aren't you saying anything?" Naruto's lack of response was deeply worrying – was the illness really so bad? "Naruto, please say something. Anything." When still no sound came, an unsettling thought drifted across his mind. "Has the illness made you unable to say anything, is that it?"

Kurama didn't even know if Naruto was conscious to hear him, but he hoped his blond did hear him. It didn't care if he was right or wrong, only that Naruto knew he was being taken care of. That he was safe.

"Don't worry." The reassurance– no, the promise was just as much for him as it was for Naruto. "Everything's going to be alright."

And it was, because he wouldn't allow anything less. He was going to take care of Naruto, no matter what.

It was official, Kurama thought to himself as he cradled one burned arm against another. Cooking was evil. Not even the Kami were so callous as to create an act that was so dangerous to the self with such pitiful reward.

"Here you go!" He placed the bowl of (what he desperately hoped was edible) ramen down on the floor, away from the growing puddle of drool, before (gently) shaking Naruto into full awareness. A hazy blue eye cracked open, filled with such dulled, empty apathy that Kurama had to squash down the cutting guilt that stabbed itself deep in his gut, lancing its way into his heart. Naruto would hate him now, but Kurama would bear it with every iota of patience he had. Because when all was said and done, Naruto would look back on this moment and feel... grateful.

There was an intense kind of climax as Naruto lifted his head up in the air, a tendril of drool leading from his mouth to cheek and then down to the puddle of drool on the floor below, and turned towards the bowl. The steam flowed gently, effervescently up, and Kurama could practically see it go towards Naruto's nose (or mouth, rather, since it was open and heavy breathing sounds could be heard).

And then the blond's head fell forward with a thud a hairsbreadth away from the bowl of (terrifyingly scalding) hot broth.

Kurama shrieked at the sudden reaction, diving to get the (evil) broth away from his blond. The bowl was (gently!) shoved away, scraping across the wood floor as he bent down to (very gently) cradle Naruto's head in his (burned and so very painful) arms, protecting his blond from the (oh-so-evil) broth. Naruto, on the other hand, was feebly flopping his arms, hands making grabby motions towards the ramen, while his breath was haggard and filled with whiny, needy noises.

"Maybe ramen was a bad idea." Kurama bemoaned, shifting so Naruto was leaning up against his shoulder, hands still making grabby motions at the (very obviously evil) ramen.

Naruto, in response, just made more needy, whiny sounds.

What are you doing?

Naruto's entire being radiated this question as Kurama dug through the blond's shelf of scrolls, yanking them out and unrolling them a little before rolling them back up and returning them to repeat the act. Kurama didn't really mind the laser-beam of attention, after having (very, very reluctantly) tasted the ramen – to ensure it was edible – before slowly feeding the half-asleep blond the broth. He'd tried to get Naruto to eat the noodles, or at least the vegetables in the broth, only for his blond to lock up tighter than Isobu when he was lost in the desert with Shukaku for several days. (to this day, neither of them ever spoke of what had happened)

"I," he began, whipping out a scroll with dramatic flourish. "am searching for a map."

Naruto said nothing, but Kurama caught the implied question.

"A map of Konoha." Kurama supplied, because not answering Naruto's question would be incredibly rude. "Because I never bothered to learn the location of the hot springs, and you, my sweaty, stinky, drool-soaked sick friend, require a soak."

How on earth could a trip to the hot springs for a soak help me with this evil illness? Naruto's eyes seemed to ask (or at least, Kurama thought they did)

"Because years of being trapped within Mito and your mother have long since taught me several eternal facts about human lives." Kurama answered, nodding sagely. With the scroll in his hand, he probably looked like a scholar. "One of those facts was: when health problems rear their ugly, accursed head, go to the nearest hot spring for a nice, refreshing bath. And then eat chocolate while crying at your lover because you doubt their love for you."

Naruto's blank stare spoke for itself, completely absent of any hidden meaning.

"...or I could be wrong on that." Kurama pointedly didn't look at the blond. "But my point still stands. We shall abscond to the hot springs, and there you shall be cured of the cursed illness."

Naruto's head slumped down onto the floor, and Kurama's mouth twitched into the slightest of smiles as he listened to the light snores coming from his dozing blond.

There had been no map.

Kurama had been convinced, because Konoha was a town (technically a village, because of the name), there had to exist a map of sorts, something to ensure that newcomers and inhabitants alike knew what was where, like the hot springs. But there was nothing. No scroll or book with a little topographical sketch of Konoha outlining the various streets and important locations, such as certain eateries, places of worship, and hot springs.

Damn the ninjas, Kurama thought to himself as he carried Naruto along the maze of streets built upon streets. Damn them and their need to keep everything about themselves a secret, even to themselves.

He wondered if the sickness was contagious, and if it was safer to lock Naruto away in the apartment until the illness passed, because every single person around the two of them sneezing at exactly the same time just could not be normal, or healthy. If Naruto didn't desperately need recuperation at the hot springs, Kurama would rather be locked in the apartment, catering to his blond's every whim until Naruto was healthy again.

And Naruto would get healthy again, because carrying him through this accursed maze of streets (damned ninjas, he thought; yet again everyone around the duo sneezed) was nothing short of what Kurama was sure hell was. The blond was far too clingy than he was sure was normal (which really was saying something, given how clingy his blond was normally), arms practically choking him as Naruto tried his hardest to become absorbed within Kurama's body.

And then there was the drool. While not quite as bad as it could be, the fact that there was a growing wet patch on his shoulder, and part of his neck felt disgustingly warm, wet, and sticky from Naruto's lips (in a purely non-romantic way, because Kurama really didn't think he could handle a sick Naruto who wanted the cuddles; he could barely handle a sick Naruto without the added problem of the cuddles), was distressing upon his dignity. Thankfully, Naruto's directions, vague arm gestures that they were, seemed to be leading Kurama directly towards the Kami-blessed hot springs.

He had no idea if Naruto was even awake enough to know what was going on, but it didn't matter – so long as their journey ended at the desired destination. Something Kurama couldn't wait to reach, since Naruto's too-warm body was pressing up against his own, and just wouldn't stop shivering. It was irritating (not that he would ever say that – or think it, for that matter, since Naruto was the only human that he could call 'friend'), but the prospect of a cleansing soak in the hot springs made everything bearable.

Kurama shifted his grip on Naruto's legs, the blond being carried piggyback, to keep from accidentally cutting off circulation to the blond's legs, and nearly fell over as the legs locked themselves around his torso. The sudden shift in weight distribution had Kurama reeling, trying not to fall over, either on his front (which might be too much stress and the clone could dispel) or his back (where Naruto was, and injuries of any kind would not be tolerated).

"Gah!" Kurama gasped out, trying to keep a steady flow of oxygen to his brain. "Falling, falling, falling!"

"Naruto?!" And then there were hands, gripping and pulling and attached to arms that Kurama clung to as they helped him be righted again. "What are you – who is this?!"

Kurama stifled a shriek as the helpful arms forced themselves around Naruto's midsection and yanked. Naruto protested this, his grip tightening into a chokehold of arms and legs around Kurama's chest and neck, and from it Kurama protested as well, limbs flailing as he tried to stop it – the arms, Naruto's clinging, anything.

"Stop, stop!" Kurama choked out, pawing at the mess of arms wrapped around his neck. "I'm a clone. Naruto's clone! Stop!"

The yanking stopped, but didn't let go. With the threat of removal from the comfortable heat source stopped, Naruto's chokehold relaxed into something much more accommodating towards breathing. From the corner of his eye, Kurama saw a disturbingly familiar head of strawberry-pink hair.

"You are Sakura-woman." Kurama realized. "Can you lead me to the hot springs?"

"Are you really a clone of Naruto's?" Sakura-woman asked, and Kurama really wondered just how much he differed in appearance from Naruto.

"Yes and no." Kurama always was an honest creature, being ill at ease with subterfuge of any kind. "I am a clone, yes, but of... Kyuubi, not Naruto."

"Kyuubi?" Sakura-woman looked surprised, not that Kurama could blame her. Outside of Naruto, very few knew the strange friendship that he and Naruto shared, let alone that Kurama had a name (it was a point of pride that only those that Kurama liked knew his name; he still rankled that the likes of Shukaku and Saiken knew it, but was partially consoled that Saiken, the gossip, at least had something resembling a brain in his head).

"Naruto is ill." Kurama explained. "There was no map pointing the way to the hot springs. You damned ninja and your need for secrecy that you don't make maps. What kind of idiotic beings are you that you don't even have any maps?"

"I resent that on behalf of humanity!" Sakura-woman protested, but didn't deny, which was enough to sate Kurama's irritation. "And what do you mean, Naruto's ill? Of course, he's sick! It's flu season, everyone gets sick during flu season!"

Kurama just stood there, not really paying Sakura-woman any attention as she berated him for overreacting about Naruto's cold. He hadn't heard of the season of flu, and so would never have made the connection.

"But... the not speaking." Kurama weakly protested. "Naruto is never not speaking. This means that this 'cold' is an evil illness of some sort."

"You mean laryngitis?" Sakura-woman asked, finally looking concerned. "It's uncommon, but sometimes the fever can make it hard to speak. Give him a couple days to rest and he'll be back to normal before you know it."

"Naruto will be fine?" Kurama wanted to make absolutely sure about the prognosis, since he trusted Sakura-woman about as much as he trusted any other human (which is to say, not very much). At her reassurance, Kurama nearly slumped over. "Then this trip to the hot springs was for naught."

"I wouldn't say that." Sakura-woman mused thoughtfully. "Naruto could use a good soak, let the pores sweat out all the toxins in his system. I can take you there, if you still want to go."

Kurama furiously nodded, and almost dragged the Sakura-woman in his fervor to reach the hot springs.

Several days later, Naruto was better than before, almost bouncing around his apartment in barely-suppressed energy. Kurama had awkwardly thanked Sakura-woman (afterwards, they both agreed never to speak of that hug again). Naruto, thankfully, didn't remember much of that time, only that existing was tiring and sore, and vague memories of someone taking care of him. Sakura had said that he was cared after by a clone of Kurama, but the Biju hadn't said anything, no matter how much Naruto spoke to him. Out of desperation for the Biju to say something, anything, Naruto had resorted to creating a Kurama-clone like the one Sakura said had existed.

Without a word of warning, Kurama suddenly found himself in control of Naruto's body just in time to briefly witness the creation of the shadow clone of himself, before his vision switched from outside the quickly-vanishing smoke to within.

"So that's what you looked like." Naruto mused, back in control of his body as Kurama just stood there in shock. There was red hair, the color of Kurama's fur as it appeared in the dim light of Naruto's mind, and a pointed chin very unlike Naruto's own, creating an almost angular face framed with a trio of whisker-marks on each cheek. The hair was the same length as Naruto's own blond locks, but fell upon itself in a sort of messy order that drew the eye in, almost hypnotizing in its chaos. "You look..."

"Idiot!" Kurama snarled, his lip curling up in anger. "Did you even think before going through with this, this... this!? Don't answer that! Because clearly you didn't, and now I'm stuck here while you're just sitting there in Kami-knows-what kind of health, so I can't do anything but take you to the well-endowed Hokage so she can fix whatever's wrong with you, even though I only barely trust her more than I do any of your other friends, and–"

The rest of Kurama's rant died on his lips as Naruto pulled him into a too-tight hug, arms squeezing the Biju close. He was completely out of his element here, having never given nor received a hug in his life (that thing with Sakura-woman never happened, and even if it did, didn't count).

"Thank you." Naruto breathed into his neck (and didn't that just send strangely satisfying shivers down his back). "For taking care of me. Thank you."

Kurama stood still for another moment, before losing himself in the moment, hands coming up to hold Naruto at the shoulders, keeping his blond close. It didn't matter that Naruto had been the most annoying creature in existence when he was sick, nor that Kurama had been forced to do something as damaging to his pride as seek the aid of Sakura-woman. What really mattered was that Naruto was alright, and that Kurama was feeling all warm and tingly and satisfied because of it.

Maybe he could do this clone thing more often, if it meant he got more hugs like this.