Work Text:
Chuuya groaned in distress as he faceplanted into a pile of papers that were scattered across his desk. His face was burning up, the weather forecast today wasn’t showing signs of any warm day, it was showing the opposite, yet he was sweating like he was trapped in a sauna.
To put it simply: he felt like shit.
His head was throbbing in pain. He was freezing up, even with the heaters blasting on him. Cold sweat ran down from his cheeks, some getting onto the papers he was working on.
His hand was loosely holding the pen with the tip against the paper but he hasn’t written anything in the past hour or so.
Fuck… what the hell is up with me?
It felt like something was suffocating him because of how much energy he had to put in to just breathe.
He wiped his hand over his forehead, planning to endure the pain for the rest of the day.
I only got a few more papers to finish with.
Hearing a faint knock on his door, Akutagawa was standing there, Chuuya could easily guess from his chesty cough while approaching his desk.
“Chuuya-san.”
“What’s… up?” He weakly asked.
Akutagawa opened his eyes, “The Boss—”
He stopped to notice his flushed red face that he realised only now, “Are you okay, Chuuya-san? You look… odd.”
Chuuya looked up, his head swaying to the side and back. He chuckled, “That’s nice of you to say.” He waved his hand dismissively, “I’m… fine… just a little… tired… What did the Boss… want?”
He looked unsure but continued, “He was requesting a mission to be taken immediately.”
“Right…”
The executive got up from his seat and the blood suddenly rushed down, feeling lightheaded. He stood up too fast and wanted to collapse on the ground.
He slammed a hand on the corner of his desk to hold himself up, “Shit…” he mumbled, what the hell was up with him?
The younger one frowned and stood by his side, “Chuuya-san. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Peachy,” he grunted, his eyes were losing him as well. “Just give me a min—”
Everything fell black for a split second as all the bones in his body gave up on him at the same time. The next thing he knew, he was on the ground, numb from the impact when falling onto the ground.
“Chuuya-san!”
He vaguely heard someone call out before falling unconscious.
Akutagawa stared at the redhead who had just passed out in front of him. Figuring out something, he grabbed Chuuya by his arm and put it around his neck, getting them to the medical room immediately.
Kouyou, who happened to also be walking in the same direction, ran into Akutagawa and the unconscious executive.
Her eyes widened, “What happened to Chuuya?”
“Ozaki-san. He fainted, I don’t know the details,” he replied.
“Don’t hold up because of me, go to the medical room. I will join you later.”
Akutagawa quickly bowed his head and rushed past her.
- - -
“And you found him like this?”
Akutagawa stood up straight in the presence of Kouyou once again.
He coughed into his hand.
“He wasn’t unconscious when I first saw him. He seemed sick so I asked but he kept saying that he was fine.”
The woman pressed his lips together. Of course he thinks that… She glanced over to the other redhead executive lying on the bed, worn out but asleep.
“The lad doesn’t know when to stop and give himself a break…” she sighed, turning back to him, “you may leave, let Mori-san know about Chuuya’s absence for the day.”
Akutagawa left through the doors.
One of her women walked in soon after, “Kouyou-san, we contacted his emergency contact to take Chuuya-san back home. They will be here shortly to pick him up,” she said with a short bow.
Her shoulders relaxed a little more, relieved to hear that someone could take him home.
Everyone else in the Port Mafia would be busy with their own missions, so resting in the infirmary would be the only choice until making a quick recovery; as uncomfortable as that may sound.
Kouyou smiled.
“Thank you. Please escort them up here when they arrive.”
“Of course, Kouyou-san.”
Kouyou drenched a towel into water and twisted it, letting the excess water out, placing the slightly damp and cool towel on top of Chuuya’s head.
He twitched a little from the cold sensation but softly began to snore again.
Kouyou couldn’t do much about his high fever or his current condition.
She warned and scolded him plenty of times to take things easy and not overwork himself, but of course, he didn’t listen.
What a reckless lad…
“Honestly…” she sat down on a chair beside the edge of his bed, “you’d think you’d learn to listen after all those other times you’ve overworked yourself.”
“—o…”
Kouyou looked at Chuuya, his eyes squeezed tightly and began to move around a little but suddenly became relaxed, a small pout forming on his lips.
“You… ca…n’t,” he murmured, slightly moving his hand around like he was blocking his face away from something. “Stop that… don’t… –iss… me there… it… tick—les…”
She didn’t question it too much, mostly because she didn’t understand half of the things he was saying.
“No… my… wine…”
Kouyou let out a light laugh.
“Even in your dreams, Chuuya, you still find a way about wine. Maybe it was a bad idea letting you try wine…”
Loud footsteps break her thoughts, the doors bursting open as one of her women stood there, trying to take deep breaths.
“Kouyou-san! T—There’s—! There’s an enemy at the entrance!” She exclaimed.
Kouyou spun around with a frown. In the morning? How rather foolish of them…
“Enemy attack, you say?”
The woman exhaled a breath before explaining, “He’s after Chuuya-san!”
Could this enemy’s timing be any worse?
Kouyou's mind crossed over to the thought that Chuuya's sickness could possibly be planned. No. It couldn’t be…
Unless it was due to an ability.
She acted quickly, “Get reinforcements and make sure this place is protected at any cost. We cannot allow them to get through to Chuuya. I shall deal with the person personally at the front.”
“Right!”
Kouyou took one last look over at Chuuya, who still was rambling on about something in his dreams, and hoped he would recover soon.
“Rest easy, lad.”
- - -
She made it down the front entrance where a big crowd of Port Mafia members stood around what seemed like the intruder in the middle.
“What’s going on here?” she asked the men who were all armed, “where are they?”
“They’re here, Ozaki-san,” one of them replied.
“Wonderful,” she responded, walking through the path they left for her to walk on.
Her eyes met with painfully familiar purple eyes.
Her face distorted into a frown after seeing who decided to be bold enough to stumble into Port Mafia territory.
“You,” she grimaced.
Their intruder was none other than Fyodor Dostoyevsky.
She sharpened her glare at him.
“What do you think you’re doing here?”
Fyodor stood there casually as if there was nothing wrong with all the guns pointed toward him. He seemed to be in a daze, looking at her blankly.
Fyodor finally acknowledged her presence, “Ozaki Kouyou.”
She slid her blade, “Spit it out or I’m going to slice your throat,” she threatened.
He put his hands out as if he was surrendering.
“I’m here to pick Chuuya up as I was requested to as you asked me to?”
Did he really think he would get away with lying about a thing like that?
Kouyou darkened her gaze. They barely knew each other.
There wasn’t any way that Chuuya would have someone like him as his emergency contact.
“You? You couldn’t possibly be Chuuya’s emergency contact.”
Fyodor grinned and dropped his hands to his sides, “Oh? Do you not believe me?”
“Who would ever in their right mind believe someone such as yourself?” Kouyou asked back with a frown.
Fyodor took one step and that’s what it all took for a warning shot near his foot.
“Stay back,” one of the men said but he ignored it like brushing dirt off.
“Let’s make this clear, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my Chuuya. Either hand him over or we could do it an alternative way, Ozaki-san,” he suggested, ominously.
She withdrew her blade.
“I won’t be afraid to slice your throat right here right now, Dostoyevsky. I would mind your words if I were you. If you're the lad’s contact then we might as well let you in.”
Some noises of complaints were coming from the men.
“But Ozaki-san—!”
“Quiet. This is an executive order,” she swiftly interjected and met Fyodor’s gaze, “Chuuya isn’t in the best of conditions, the last thing I want is for him to be left unattended. If you’re after something then you’ll tell us.”
Fyodor smiled, satisfied, “Happy to hear you see things my way… although… what if I’m after Chuuya?”
“You wouldn’t call him with such familiarity if you weren’t close to him. I’ve heard you’re quite the polite man, Fyodor-kun. Nonetheless, you wouldn’t be putting it so bluntly to me that you’d be after Chuuya.”
“You’d be correct, Ozaki-san. Now, do you mind if I see my solnyshko now?”
Kouyou gave him a look of uncertainty but turned around and led the way for him inside. He wasn’t getting out of this alive if he was lying, there were still guns pointed behind him that was no joke at all.
She stopped her trail to give Fyodor one last piece of advice, “I hope you aren’t looking for blood today. Kill one of them and I will kill you, understand?”
There was a murderous glint in Fyodor’s eyes as she said that. “Of course. I wouldn’t for no reason, just don’t get too close.”
- - -
Kouyou kept a close eye on the Russian while opening the door to where Chuuya was still sound asleep. “Don’t you dare lay a finger on him.”
“How else am I supposed to take him home?”
“I don’t know, just don’t touch him.”
Fyodor stared at her for a little more before approaching Chuuya, standing a foot away from the bed. “Solnyshko,” he called out.
The redhead twitched a little.
“Can you wake up for me?”
“5… more minutes…” he mumbled back, turning away Fyodor.
As much as the Russian wanted to brush Chuuya’s hair to wake him up. He was afraid that his arm was going to be ripped off if he were to touch him even in the slightest.
“I’m afraid I can’t wait that long, solnyshko.”
Chuuya opened his eyes a little to see Fyodor, “Fe… Fedya?”
Kouyou raised a brow and decided to leave them both alone for a while. So they are familiar with each other. She thought to herself.
Fyodor saw from the corner of his eye that Kouyou walked out (to his relief).
He reached over to his head and caressed his head, “Yes, it’s me. How are you feeling right now?” He asked.
Chuuya groaned.
“Like… shit.”
“I knew you were going to say that.”
“You want a fucking award for that or something?” He asked back with a frown.
Fyodor grinned, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “Mm… a kiss would be enough,” he said while pressing a quick kiss on it.
“You’re an ass, you know that?”
“Coming from someone like you, solnyshko, I’m honoured.”
Chuuya shot a glare at Fyodor, “Are you just here to piss me off or are you going to take me home?”
“Yes, yes, let’s go home now.”
“Good… I’m tired… I’m going to sleep…” he mumbled back, falling onto Fyodor's chest who caught him into a hug.
Managing to get Chuuya onto Fyodor’s back, he stepped out of the infirmary to find Kouyou standing outside. Probably waiting for them.
“I’ll be taking Chuuya back home now.”
“Do anything and—”
“I know, and I won’t,” Fyodor replied.
She glanced over to Chuuya and then averted her eyes, covering her lips with her sleeve. “Good. Then you’d be smart to leave now before anything is suspected between you and Chuuya. As much as I don’t want to interfere, the Boss isn’t exactly the best with traitors.”
“Thank you, Ozaki-san. We’ll be on our way now.”
They exited out of the Port Mafia building, Kouyou couldn’t get rid of the thought of how Chuuya got himself mixed up with the wrong people.
- - -
The redhead opened his eyes, his cheek brushed against a soft pillow. He felt odd movements coming from the bed he was resting on.
What the…?
Lifting his head, his eyes found themselves in the hallway that was in his apartment building going towards his room. Why was he going towards his room? Isn’t he on a bed?
That was when he noticed his ‘pillow’ was instead white fur around a certain someone’s black coat. He let out a small groan, his head falling back on his back, “What are you doing here…?” he finally murmured.
“Oh, you’re awake again. Do you not remember anything?”
“No. My head hurts, rat bastard.”
“Your nice workers were nice enough to contact me.”
“You put your number as my emergency number didn’t you?” He asked back with his hoarse voice, “you fucker.”
Fyodor went quiet for a few seconds, “You have no proof.”
He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “This morning you asked me if I wanted to go to work, obviously you would’ve done something to know I was doing fine or if something happened to me.”
He chuckled back, “You know me too well, Chuuya.”
“That’s only because I’m used to your fucking antics,” he responded, “you weren’t subtle about it either.”
“Was I not?”
He shook his head and snaked his arms around his neck, “It’s really cold, Fedya…”
The joking around ended soon after.
“I know, we’re nearly there.”
Fyodor unlocked the door to Chuuya’s apartment room and let him stand on the ground, closing the door behind them.
“I feel like shit.”
Fyodor helped Chuuya take off his hat and coat draped over his shoulders and put them on the coat rack.
Pulling Chuuya closer, he put his arm around his waist and pressed a soft kiss on his head while leading them towards the bedroom.
“Let’s get you into warmer clothes. I’ve made something for you to eat.”
Chuuya tried his best to laugh but his throat wasn’t letting him, “That’s nothing good.”
“I hope you at least have a spoonful.”
“Are you trying to kill me or something, Fedya?” He asked back with a smile.
Fyodor planted another kiss on his forehead. It was still burning up and reminded him of Chuuya’s condition, he nearly forgot for a split second.
“Of course not, I wouldn’t kill my solnyshko. Now, get changed and stay in bed. I’ll bring the food over to you.”
Chuuya grabbed onto his wrist.
“Are you going for long…?” he asked quietly.
“I’ll be right back, dorogoy moy. Wait for me, okay?”
He let him go and turned over to the folded clothes on the edge of the bed.
Fyodor must’ve put it there before he left to pick him up.
Idiot… Why didn’t you tell me to stay at home instead?
Chuuya changed into more suitable clothes and heard the buzzing coming from his phone in his pockets. He took his phone out and read the messages sent from Kouyou.
Ane-san: We will need a long conversation about your emergency contact once you have recovered.
Ane-san: get better soon, lad.
Ane-san: I have already informed Mori-san that you will be absent for a week.
Ane-san: if anything happens let me know and I will slice the rat’s neck.
Two fingers managed to find themselves on the top of his screen and pull the phone away from his hands. Chuuya looked up and frowned at Fyodor’s sudden appearance.
“Let me at least Ane-san’s messages.”
“I will reply to those messages, get in bed,” he responded.
He didn’t try to argue back and slipped into bed.
Fyodor placed a tray with a bowl of okayu in front of him. Chuuya, with judging eyes, commented to himself that it was too watery to be like okayu but he’ll accept it…
A small blush rose to his cheeks over his fever.
…After all, it was Fyodor’s cooking.
He was cooking for him.
“You made this… for me?” He asked in complete awe, “I’m… surprised…”
Fyodor sat on the edge of the bed and took the spoon from the bowl. “It’ll get cold soon, solnyshko if you keep staring at it. ”
“Oi, I can eat it myself,” he tried to get the spoon back but Fyodor wasn’t letting him, “I’m not a kid.”
“I never said you were, Chuuya,” he said while blowing against the spoonful of okayu. “Open your mouth, ah.”
Chuuya furrowed his brows and opened his mouth as told.
“Ah.”
He swallowed the spoonful.
“Is it good?”
“My taste buds are gone. It doesn’t matter but I’m surprised you were this successful for someone who barely ever cooks.”
“Maybe I should cook more often then.”
He ate another spoonful, “Don’t get overconfident, mister. Get more sleep first and then we can talk about your cooking.”
Chuuya stopped and whipped over to Fyodor, “You didn’t threaten anyone in the Port Mafia while you were there, did you? Is that why Ane-san messaged me?”
Fyodor grinned and shrugged his shoulders, “I didn’t kill anyone.”
“That’s not what I asked, rat.”
“Close enough.”
Chuuya finished the entire bowl and took his medication. He looked at Fyodor who was busy packing the finished bowl and spoon on the tray.
“Join me in bed, Fedya. I’m cold.”
“The dishes, solnyshko.”
He knew how much Chuuya hated dirty dishes left in the sink (because he had done it many times before).
“Fuck the dishes. Get over here.”
He placed the tray on the nightstand, “If that’s what Chuuya wants.”
He was immediately trapped in his legs and arms once getting into bed with Chuuya. Fyodor placed his hand on his forehead, checking his temperature. “You’re still burning. You need to sleep, solnyshko.”
“I will…” He mumbled.
Fyodor pecked his cheeks and then his lips.
“Shouldn’t you not be kissing me if I’m sick?” Chuuya asked.
“I don’t mind. I’d rather if Chuuya’s cold was moved over to me instead, then you wouldn’t be all sick like this.”
The mafioso flicked his forehead, “Don’t say that. I don’t want to take care of you.”
“Is that the only thing that’s bothering you if I do?” He asked back with a smug grin, knowing what Chuuya’s response would be.
Chuuya let go of him from his embrace, turning his back on him and wrapping the covers around him, so Fyodor wouldn’t get any.
“I’m going to sleep now, don’t talk to me.”
Fyodor leaned to his ear and whispered into his ear.
“Rest well, moy Chuuya.”