Work Text:
Despite the opinions that certain members of the Mafia might have about Chuuya being a workaholic, he’d never been a person who disliked days off, in fact he quite liked them; forced medical leave on the other hand, was not something he liked at all. On days off, even if he had errands to run or chores to do, he still had the freedom to do whatever he wanted afterwards; medical leave lacked that freedom.
Oh sure, he could sleep in until noon or sit around all day and watch tv if he wanted, but there were always restrictions; take your painkillers, stay away from alcohol, don’t agitate your wounds and in the case of his current injuries, stay off your leg. Both Dazai and Mori had told him that last one and while he would have happily ignored obey the former, he wasn’t dumb enough to disobey the latter, at least not to his face; so he’d made sure to stay in his apartment where Mori would have no way of knowing if he was staying off his leg or not.
It wasn’t like he was deliberately trying to use his leg a lot or anything, he just wasn’t going out of his way to not use it, that would be too limiting. It was already boring enough to be basically stuck in his apartment until his injuries healed, if he had to spend that time doing almost nothing but sitting around he was pretty sure it would drive him insane, though admittedly that would probably be a short drive.
So he’d decided to spend the time taking care of chores around the apartment that he hadn’t had time to get to until then; he’d dusted and vacuumed, reorganized his bookshelves, done laundry, cleaned out the fridge, trimmed his cat’s claws and finished up several piles of paperwork that he’d brought home a few days earlier. It had only taken him three days to get all that done though, which still left him with eleven days of medical leave to find a way to occupy.
Of course it wasn’t like there wasn’t anything left for him to do, there were still day to day tasks like cooking food and playing with Kohaku and Argent, plus he had a decent amount of books he could read or games he could play; but that would only keep him occupied for so long before he started going stir crazy.
It was on the fourth day of his medical leave that he began putting serious thought into sneaking out of his apartment; his day had already gotten off to a rough start when he’d been woken up that morning two hours before his alarm, by twenty five pounds of Maine Coon sitting on his chest in what was either a show of affection or an assassination attempt. After using his ability to float Kohaku off of him, he’d tried to go back to sleep but had found himself unable to and so had reluctantly gotten up to go make breakfast for himself and the cats.
Of course Argent hadn’t been happy with only having her cat food, and so he’d spent the entirety of his meal repeatedly removing her from the counter every time she tried to steal from his plate. After he’d finished breakfast and done the dishes he flopped down onto his couch, casually flipping through a book without really paying attention to what he was reading, while trying to figure out what he should do. Technically he’d never been ordered not to leave the apartment, he’d just been advised to not use his leg or shoulder unless it was necessary; of course when Mori gave advice he generally expected it to be followed, so he’d need to figure out a good excuse for why he was out and about, since he was sure that Mori would eventually find out about.
Though truth be told he was slightly more afraid of if Kouyou found out, at least in regards to immediate reactions; he might have started calling her Ane-san all those years ago partially in a teasing manner, but though the time he'd actually spent under her command was short, he knew she had come to see him as something like a little brother. She would have no problem dragging him back to her apartment and making sure someone babysat him so he couldn't be stupid about his health; that would be embarrassing and he'd rather avoid it. Mori at least would be more subtle about his actions.
Grocery shopping might be an idea for something he could pass off as necessary, he already knew that he didn't have enough fresh stuff to last his whole time off, and he hadn't had any time recently to premake and freeze anything. Surely no one could fault him for going out to get stuff?
Getting up from the couch and hobbling into his bedroom, he quickly changed out of the sweats he'd been wearing as pajamas and into jeans and a white t-shirt; he then paused for a moment staring at his black jacket that he'd had since he was sixteen, it still fit him perfectly, which both annoyed him and made him happy. He couldn't really remember everything he'd said to Dazai several nights earlier, though the stuff he did remember he really wished he could go back in time and keep himself from saying, but he'd been feeling rather nostalgic about the days the two of them had spent as partners lately.
It was frustrating because he'd tried hard to put thoughts of those days behind him, it was less painful that way, but they kept sneaking in. He didn’t know how he was supposed to ever heal when his wounded heart kept getting ripped open again.
The sound of a knock on his front door shook him from his thoughts and he left his room to stare at the door in confusion for a few seconds, he couldn't remember the last time someone had knocked, one of the benefits of living in such an expensive place was a lack of door to door salesmen. As he began walking towards it he silently compiled a list of who it could be in his head, there were very few people who knew where he lived.
It wasn’t Dazai, that was for sure, he would have just picked the lock and not bothered with knocking. It could be Kouyou maybe, though he would have thought she'd call first, same with Hirotsu. Maybe Akutagawa? He couldn't actually remember if he knew where he lives, not to mention he'd wasn't really the type to voluntarily come for a visit, unless maybe it had been Gin's idea. None of them really seemed that likely though to be honest, so he supposed he'd just have to open the door and see.
Grabbing the handle he pulled and then froze at the sight of Mori and Elise standing on his doorstep.
"Boss." He managed to choke out in greeting after a moment of shocked silence, and Mori smiled at him. It wasn't one of his fake ones that he frequently wore, but it wasn't an entirely friendly one either and Chuuya felt a chill run down his spin.
"Ah Chuuya, me and Elise were in the neighborhood and I thought I'd stop and see how your injures were doing." His explanation was very obviously an excuse, there wasn't anything in the nearby neighborhood for Mori and Elise to have been out doing, but Chuuya was not stupid enough to call him out on it. "May we come in?"
Chuuya had never wanted to say no so much, the leader of the Port Mafia didn't just happen to come by to check on a subordinates injures for no reason, not even if it was his second-in-command, something was up. It would be Dazai levels of suicidaly stupid to shut the door in Mori's face though and so Chuuya stepped to the side and gestured with his hand for them to enter.
The two of them stepped inside and slid off their shoes while curiously glancing around the apartment, one much more subtly than the other; it was the first time either of them had been in his house and quite frankly, Chuuya hoped it would also be the last time.
Elise seemed to finish her inspection, though Chuuya had no idea what her conclusions were, and turned her attention to him,
“Rintaro promised me cake.” She informed him, turning her head to shoot a quick glare at Mori, “And he hasn’t fulfilled that promise.” There was a look in her eyes that Chuuya was familiar with, it was the one that meant I want something and I expect you to get me it and that you’d regret it if you didn’t.
Biting back a sigh, he offered her a smile; Elise could be annoying and cruel at times but he was fond of her, and also a bit terrified, so he always tried to be nice.
“There should be some cookies in the pantry.” He told her and her eyes lit up,
“You’re the best Chuuya!” She exclaimed before running off to find the aforementioned cookies and leaving Chuuya standing alone with Mori in an awkward silence; or at least it was awkward for Chuuya, he wasn’t sure if Mori ever found anything awkward.
“How are your injuries, Chuuya?” Mori finally asked after what seemed like an eternity and Chuuya shrugged, though unfortunately he used his injured shoulder and was unable to hide the wince of pain the movement caused,
“They’re healing.” He stated simply, there was no denying his injuries were still bad when there was no way Mori could have missed the way he flinched, but he didn't need to elaborate about each ache and pain he felt. Mori didn't look satisfied with his answer,
"I'd like to examine them." The words were in the form of a request, but the tone made it clear he wasn't asking. "Since you didn't have them check back at headquarters."
If it had been directed at anyone else Chuuya probably would have been impressed by rhetoric amount of disapproval and disappointment packed into the sentence, but as it was he struggled not to wilt under his bosses gaze. He himself might be able to crush people to the ground with his ability, but Mori had mastered being able to do it with just his eyes.
"Yes Boss." Chuuya acquiesced resignedly, he didn't really want Mori to examine his injures, but he knew better than to say no. It was strange, Chuuya had no memory of his parents, didn't have anything to base it on, but he still felt rather like a kid getting scolded by his father.
Mori smiled approvingly at Chuuya's agreement and motioned with his hand for him to take a seat on the couch, the gesture making it somewhat feel like it was Chuuya who was the guest and not him. As Mori knelt on the floor next to the couch, Chuuya noted that he just happened to have his doctor's kit with him; it sure was a good thing Mori carried it with him whenever he went on casual walks in the neighborhood, Chuuya thought sarcastically.
Despite Chuuya never having told Mori where his injuries were he didn't bother asking were, he didn't bother asking as he rolled up Chuuya's pant leg to look at the bandaged wound, and Chuuya didn't bother who had told him their location. They both knew Dazai's involvement in the situation.
Mori hummed thoughtfully as he poked and prodded,
"Obviously none of these are life threatening wounds, and they've been cleaned well so as long as you continue to take care of them they should heal fine, but they’re not light wounds either, they should have been dealt with in the infirmary." Mori turned a sharp gaze on Chuuya, who found himself struggling not to squirm in his seat. "Why didn't you inform anyone you'd been hurt?"
Chuuya was quite proud of the way he managed to look Mori directly in the eye and kept his voice steady as he replied.
"My men were in much worse shape than me, I didn't want to draw personal and resources away from helping them." It wasn't a lie but it wasn't entirely the truth either and Mori seemed to know it,
"So you're saying it had nothing to with your aversion to hospitals or anywhere similar to a lab." He asked in a knowing tone and Chuuya froze, unable to say a word in reply; he'd always figured Mori knew how much sterile lab-like environments set him on edge, how they stirred up residual memories and feelings that made him panic, but it had never been talked about.
You didn't mention your weaknesses in the mafia, not unless you could own it and keep it from being used against you like Dazai had with his suicidal desires; it was far too dangerous otherwise, people would look down on you and refuse to obey orders or use it against you. He didn’t know what to think about Mori bringing it up.
His silence apparently served as enough of an answer and Mori let out a sigh, before placing a hand on Chuuya’s uninjured shoulder in an uncharastically gentle manner,
“Given your past it is understandable that you feel uncomfortable, but that is not an excuse for you to hide injuries and neglect your health; not only does it cut down on your usefulness but it sets a bad example for your men." Chuuya couldn't look Mori in the eye any longer, couldn't take seeing that all too knowing stare looking at him, and so he turned his head slightly to the side and focused his attention on Kohaku who had climbed onto the couch and was licking his hand as if to comfort him.
Mori’s words were painful both because they were true and because they had cut Chuuya right where he was vulnerable; Chuuya had a desperate need to feel useful, to feel like he was necessary, being told he was lessening his usefulness left him with a sick feeling in his stomach and a fear that he might be thrown away.
Even worse was the feeling that came with the thought that he might be leading his men astray, he deeply cared for the men under his command, their lives were his responsibility and he took that responsibly very seriously; he didn't want them to follow his example and not take care of themselves. He didn't know how he could set a better example though when he couldn't bring himself to do what he needed to, there was too much suffocating anxiety that came with the thought of spending time in the infirmary.
“If necessary we can make arrangements for your injuries to be treated somewhere besides the infirmary,” Mori continued and Chuuya’s head whipped back around to look at him, his eyes widening in shock; while as an executive Chuuya had many more privileges than the average mafia member, special treatment like Mori was offering was unheard of.
His surprise seemed to amuse Mori, who gave him a smile that could almost be described as affectionate,
“You’re second in command of the Port Mafia,” He reminded him, “Your continual health is important for the good of the organization.” Chuuya bit back a sigh, when he’d first joined the Mafia he had sworn himself to defend it, and it was important for him to stay in good shape if he was going to keep that oath.
“I understand Boss.”
“Good,” Mori said, patting Chuuya on the shoulder as he stood up, “Then next time you get injured you come to me and we’ll figure something out.”
Chuuya nodded in agreement before hesitating, he almost felt like he should say something like ‘thank you’ but at the same time it felt wrong, luckily he was saved by Elise.
“Chuuuuya, your cat’s trying to steal my cookies.” Came her loud cry from the kitchen, and Chuuya glanced back over the couch to see Argent with her teeth locked onto the cookie in Elise’s hand. Sighing loudly, he pushed himself up off the couch,
“Argent no!”
“Rintaro was really worried about Chuuya.” Elise commented, as she walked down the street outside of Chuuya’s building alongside Mori, who glanced down at her comment.
“Of course, the health of it’s executives affects the mafia.” He told her, and the girl hummed thoughtfully,
“Maybe I should start calling Chuuya ni-chan.” She stated and Mori sighed,
“He’s not my son, Elise.” Sure, he might have helped raise Chuuya since he was fifteen, and he might have been fonder of him than he was his other subordinates, and he might have been grooming his to be his successor, and he might be one of the biggest male role models in Chuuya’s life, but he wasn't his father.
Elise just stopped in her tracks, causing Mori to stop as well, and stared at him for a moment.
“Tsundere dad.” She finally stated, before beginning to walk again, leaving behind Mori with a rare shocked expression on his face