Work Text:
Fushimi had been lying in this bed for several days now. But he'd only woken up a few moments ago. The light in the room looked like early afternoon.
Apparently, he'd undergone major surgery due to massive blood loss and tissue damage in his right leg. For a time, the surgeons hadn't been sure whether he would make it - and in case he did, if his leg could be saved as well. When he woke up, he felt like he'd gotten under a truck. Back when he had been conscious still at the scene, he hadn't felt as much pain. Maybe due to shock, he mused. He couldn't see clearly, his left hand searching for his glasses on the bedside table.
"You're awake."
His hand found the glasses, but he didn't need them to recognise the speaker's voice.
Munakata. He wanted to give a snarky reply, but his mouth was completely parched, so he couldn't utter any syllable at all.
"Here."
His Captain handed him a cup of water. Fushimi nodded a thank you and took some slow sips.
"You must feel exhausted. You had us all quite worried about you, not waking up for a long while."
The Captain gave him a benevolent smile. Fushimi answered with a little sigh instead of a click of his tongue, and turned his head away slightly.
"Your femoral artery had suffered severe damage, leading to hemorrhagic shock…"
Fushimi didn't listen. He didn't care, really.
It was over now. The fight for his life. And his life as he knew it. Of course, Sceptre 4 still existed, but there were no more special powers to be wielded. No more Kings or Clansmen.
It was all different now. He closed his eyes, pretending to drift back off to sleep, ignoring his glasses on the bridge of his nose. Munakata took the hint and excused himself, promising to be back to check on his Head of Intel. However, his look lingered a little moment on Fushimi's features as if he knew he was only feigning sleep. Most likely he knew, but he accepted Fushimi's unspoken wish for some privacy and left.
As soon as Fushimi was alone again, he checked his left collarbone for the HOMRA insignia. It was still there, the burn marks across it as prominent as ever. So that didn't disappear.
He snorted, then sighed. No more powers, but still marked as a "traitor". Whatever.
Yata had been bugging Kusanagi for frequent updates on Fushimi since he'd been taken to surgery at Sceptre 4. At some point, Kusanagi had shoved Yata out of the bar to "take a walk and give me and Seri a break".
So Yata rode his board across town, lost in thought and worry. At some point he realised where his feet had taken him: the Sceptre 4 headquarters. He stared at the huge building, wondering where exactly the infirmary would be located. He wanted to just barge in and force his way to Saru's bedside, but he wasn't admitted. The guards on post told him to fuck off, well, they'd used nicer words but that's what they'd meant. They wouldn't even tell him about Saru's current status. He was worried sick. They had just started to get along again and now Saru was in critical condition. Emergency surgery. Yata stood at the closed main gate, unable to leave, his eyes searching the building's many windows for any clue at all where Saru might be kept at this moment. The guardsmen told him again to leave, that it was no use. Stubborn Yata didn't care and stood his ground, his gaze still fixed on the brightly lit windows as the sun started to set. He resembled a dog, maybe a Labrador retriever, waiting for his master to return.
"C'mon, just tell me if he's still alive!" he begged the guardsmen. They exchanged a look, then shook their heads in unison.
"Captain's orders."
Yata gave a frustrated howl and sat on the ground.
"I'm not gonna leave here until I've heard from Saru!"
The guardsmen rolled their eyes at him but didn't reply. As long as he didn't try to break in, they weren't authorised to interfere. Just as Yata was getting cold, the wind had freshened up, a shadow fell over him. He looked up at the shape in front of him.
"You're here for Fushimi, aren't you?"
It was the former Blue King, Munakata. Yata scowled up at him, his arms hugging his chest tightly to keep himself warm.
"So what? Now you're telling me what those two've kept telling me? I'm not leaving until I've heard Saru is okay!"
Munakata was not impressed by Yata's snapping at him.
"You need not worry yourself. Fushimi is doing fine. He is asleep now. But I believe he will be fit for a visit in the morning."
Yata's eyes widened with relief and joy.
"He's okay? Why didn't anyone tell me this sooner?!"
Munakata chuckled softly.
"He only woke up a short while ago. He is still in a feeble state. But as I was informed, he will recover fully."
Yata beamed at the Captain. His spirits clearly lifted, he tried to push past the Captain and guardsmen, making a run with his board for the building. Munakata however grabbed him by the neck of his shirt, causing Yata to trip, sending his board flying.
"I told you, Fushimi is resting. You will be admitted tomorrow, in the morning."
With a gentle push, he set Yata back on his feet, sending him stumbling a step backwards.
"But…," he tried a verbal attempt, but the Captain only shook his head at him.
"If you keep this behaviour up, I might as well have you spend the night in one of our holding cells, Yatagarasu."
Yata huffed at him, as his skateboard was shoved into his arms and the gate closed into his face. He stalked away, just a few blocks to be out of their sight and gave Kusanagi another call.
He must have drifted off again at some time. When he opened his eyes again, not only were his glasses gone again, but it was also dark out. And cold. Someone had left a window open. And the cold wind was blowing right into Fushimi's face. He shivered under the duvet, only wearing a paper-thin hospital gown and bandages. He remembered that time when he was sick back in middle school and Yata had come to check on him, coming to his room each time he'd called his name. Back then, it had been his last name.
"Misaki," he whispered, "I'm cold."
He curled up into a ball, drawing the duvet up to his nose, shivering. There was a scraping noise at the outer windowsill. Was it hailing now as well? I'm going to freeze to death like this… Then, something crashed into the room. Fushimi sat up straight, pulling the duvet up with him.
"What the hell…?"
He could see a shape crouching on the floor, right below the window.
Instinctively, he snatched the cup from the bedside and broke it into pieces, keeping a shard in one hand.
"Ouch…" Fushimi stopped dead, the shard still raised defensively.
"Misaki?," he whispered, his voice slightly husky.
"Saru!," came the reply from the floor, as Misaki glanced up at him in the dark.
"What are you doing here, Misaki?"
"Checking on you, stupid monkey!"
"Feels more like breaking and entering…"
"They wouldn't let me in, so I had to find my own way here."
Fushimi clicked his tongue, shaking his head at Yata.
"You're impossible."
"Not really, I made it!"
The glee was audible in Yata's voice.
"What were you planning with that shard, Saru?"
Fushimi chuckled.
"Slitting your throat, in case you had been anyone else."
Yata just stared at him for a moment, mouth slightly agape.
"That's so typically you, Saru."
Yata made a few steps into the room, towards the bed.
Fushimi huddled back into his duvet, as another gust of cold wind hit him.
Yata cocked his head to the side, then turned around to close the window before walking all the way over and sitting down on the bed on Fushimi's left side.
"It's way too cold in here," he murmured, rubbing his hands together.
"Sh-shut up, you're properly dressed, idiot," Fushimi retorted, his teeth chattering in the process.
"Are you cold, Saru?," Yata asked, sounding deeply concerned, taking off his boots.
"Y-y-yes, idiot," Fushimi snapped, but not as harshly as Yata would have expected.
Yata gave him another long look, then shrugged off his jacket and took off his beanie.
"W-what are you d-doing, Misaki? I-it's cold…"
"Yup, I know."
"W-what are you doing, t-then?!"
A soft chuckle escaped Yata's lips, as he moved closer and slid under the duvet to join his shivering friend.
"Warming you," he whispered, huddling close to Fushimi's left side, putting an arm around his chest. Fushimi wanted to protest, but Yata's body was radiating a comfortable warmth, his head resting at Fushimi's left shoulder, so he didn't say anything and just sighed lightly.
"Thank you for always coming when I call you," Fushimi murmured, barely audibly.
Yata smiled against his shoulder, thereby lightly touching his lips to Fushimi's bare shoulder.
"Of course."