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Dabi had missed three meetings in one week.
The first, Skeptic let slip by. Dabi had been assigned a mission by the Grand Commander no less, and returning back to the mission covered in blood that may or may not be his own, staples ripped and an arm bent in three places it shouldn't, his health was more important than the management meeting. He set him up with one of the nurses with a healing quirk, patched him up, and didn't expect him at the second meeting as he should be in bed rest.
Not that Skeptic believed that Dabi would willingly follow orders from a professional, let alone a nurse. But arguably, he couldn't fault the man for missing them.
The third time was plainly inexcusable.
Skeptic didn't know why it fell to him to rally the pyromancer to task, but he was hardly wasting company time hunting him down. He sat at the designated board room, laptop open, gnashing his teeth as his puppet thundered down the hallway.
"You better not be fucking jerking off when I get there." the man grumbled under his breath. Dabi had no sense of boundaries, privacy.. no, he just had no sense overall, and the amount of times he had walked in on him doing something he shouldn't was startlingly many. His puppet rapped heavily on the door and the only thing his speakers picked up was some distorted groan. Skeptic rolled his eyes and flicked on the microphone.
"You're not missing this meeting, Dabi. I'm giving you five minutes to haul ass out of bed or I'm flipping the mattress and dragging you out, naked or not."
"Fuck off…"
Skeptic chewed on his bottom lip and quickly released it before he ended up biting it off in irritation. He muttered a series of underhanded curses under his breath as he directed the puppet to wrench open the door. He expected to be greeted with a filthy sight as he had so many times before.
Filthy was right, but it was more along the lines of… messy.
"What the hell happened to you?" Skeptic asked on instinct. He inspected the room through the lens of the puppet. Dabi was summarily dressed down in his boxers, but his skin was red and flushed, angry like a fever under his skin. His queasy look and cradles tummy didn't fare much better. His head was hung, white locks covering his face as a wastebin turned sick bucket looked a little worse for wear.
"What does it look like, princess?" slurred Dabi, trying to pull a sneer but the wince broke his smarmy look as his stomach gurgled threateningly, green nauseous hue overtaking a sudden paleness to his face. He slowly half turned to the bucket, but when the churning settled somewhat, his body untensed and he slumped on his side with a groan.
Dabi was sick. Skeptic didn't know Dabi got sick. Motion sick, yes. Fever? Illness? Strange alien concepts that seem so normal. Like it shouldn't apply to villains, and he has the frightening realisation that Dabi was just as human as he was and not some patchwork monstrosity he was forced to associate with.
"You's so much of a freak ya want an audience to me spilling my guts? Fuck off already." Of course, Dabi had to break the revere, and Skeptic snapped into action with a scowl he couldn't see.
"I'm assessing if you're well enough to hold your contents down long enough to not spew all over the meeting table," the puppet moved to press a metallic cold hand on the back of Dabi's neck. The poor ailing man moaned, back arching and rising to the touch for more like a cat, seeking the comfort of the coolnees on his fever struck form. Skeptic had no heart and was not capable of anything even remotely close to pity, but he tsked.
"Have you told anyone? Had any medicine? Done anything but wallow in your own painful misery?"
"Don't need help," Dabi asserted weakly. It was a hard claim to back up when his stomach protested and gurgled loud enough for his speakers to pick up and a nauseating burp rumbled from his throat. The passing of air no doubt riling his stomach up enough that he lurched over the bucket and —
"Ugh." Skeptic switched off the camera feed and microphone momentarily, pinching the bridge of his nose. How the hell did Dabi get sick? He knew he joked about him routing around in the trash like a raccoon enough to catch diseases but something must have upset his delicate and burnt immune system.
He angrily typed out a quick business email to Re-destro to explain his upcoming absence, packed his stuff and stormed out of the board room.
-
Dabi managed to progress onto his back by the time Skeptic arrived, bundled up in blankets as he started to feel exceptionally cold despite his high temperature. The logical thing to do was saddle this task with one of the nurses. There was no reason for him to do this himself. Why was he doing this? Why had it been so easy to reason with his OCD and workaholic tendencies that he needed to do this? Maybe because he trusted nobody but himself. Yeah. That was it.
Skeptic entered with an arm full of towels, his cashmere sweater traded out for a sweatshirt that nobody would believe he would wear and his hair tied back and pinned into a bun to avoid any messed. Dabi looked at him like he grew two heads, or maybe like he didn't recognise him with his eyes exposed. The second that scowl dropped on his face and he snapped out a "What?" recognition bloomed on Dabi's face.
"You look pretty like that." he said nonchalantly. There was no mockery, no tone of degradation. It actually gave Skeptic pause as he dismissed the puppet to clean the bucket and take his place near the bed.
"You're delirious." He snorted, pressing his knee onto the mattress and leaning with his weight. The back of his hand gently touched Dabi's forehead and he tried not to notice the way his eyes fluttered and his face softened. Because he has no heart, and no feelings for Dabi. ".. and feverish. You run hot, but not like this. What were you thinking, not telling anyone? Do you want to let down your leader by pretending you can handle everything? Or are you so committed to the bad boy loner persona that you think you're above help?"
"Heh.. that's you alright, Skeptic. Always nagging."
Skeptic ignored his comment and pulled away, tutting at him when Dabi whined, head turning to try and chase that gentle contact. The puppet arrived in due time with a clean bucket so he didn't end up upsetting his own stomach with the disgusting scent of bile and also a plain white washcloth damp cold.
He gingerly sat on the bed after checking three times for any stains or in case he didn't get to the bucket in time, accepting the cloth and gently dabbing at the other's forehead.
"Ooohhh, that's good." Dabi moaned in relief, tense body relaxing somewhat as he came to inch closer and lean his spindly self on his impromptu caretaker. Skeptic had half a mind to shove him off but worried the sudden motion may make him vomit. So he huffed and puffed and acted like this was the worst thing that could happen to him in the world.
"Do you know how much of my valuable time you are making me waste?! How much profit I could have made for our Front if I weren't forced to take care of you like a baby! I don't think you realise how important I actually am and how I am relied on!"
"Mmhm.." Dabi was all but drifting, ignoring the other's complaints as it was nothing like hot air. He knew if Skeptic didn't want to do it there was no way he would have. He still could have just let his puppets help him, but he came himself. He sighed, almost able to feel relief for the first time until a stab of pain needled his stomach and he was groaning once again.
"Oh what is it now.." Skeptic pulled the cloth away and watched Dabi writhe slightly on his lap. He could hear closely now the way his tummy rumbled a threat of upset, another sickly look crossing the pyro's face. He hated that his free hand drifted down to rest gently on his belly, feeling the way it constricted tightly under his touch before softening. He was for once silent — save for the noises of bellyache — as he experimentally ran his smooth palm across the surface.
"Mm.." Dabi didn't appear to have any protests with that, his fidgeting calmed down some as Skeptic rubbed a little firmer, massaging the sore muscle. The cold hand did wonders for his fiery hot skin, and in mere moments he was completely lax on his lap again, breathing slow and calm. His hands closed a little, face burying against the plushness of Skeptic's thigh. In any other circumstance the man would nag his ear off for trying to 'cop a feel' but for once he understood the need for creature comforts.
"Better?" he quipped tersely, though didn't sound as agitated as he let on.
"Yeah."
"Good."
For a few solid moments they stayed like that. Skeptic would gently reapply the washcloth, cooling his face down and the top of his chest where his next set of healthy skin was, as well as make sure his scarred skin was alright. His other hand kept busy in making soothing motions over his bloated belly, coaxing the poor rattled organ inside into some state of relaxation. He made sure to avoid gracing the staples, and let him essentially snuggle on his lap.
"I'm going to order the puppet to get some medicine and water. You will take it." Skeptic said. When he had no response from Dabi, he tilted his chin up carefully to find the man completely zoned out asleep. No doubt this had been effecting him all night if the first moment of peace and comfort had his brain checking out in the form of sleep.
Realising that this meant he was trapped here for the foreseeable future, he made sure to mentally add onto the puppet's task to bring his laptop too, so he could at least work and take care of him. Not that he wanted to.
Of course not. Skeptic didn't care for him. At all.
Or so he continued to chant as he gently brushed the sleeping man's hair.