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"Can you go the fuck home, Dazai?"
Dazai groans at the sound of Chuuya's grating voice. He already has a headache, and Chuuya existing in his general space isn't helping.
"I have important things to do, unlike a certain shrimp in my vicinity," Dazai quips back. The venom in his tone comes with a recoil, it throws that throbbing in the back of his head back into full swing, and he can't help but groan at the feeling.
The truth is, Dazai really doesn't feel well. The headache is obvious enough, but he's almost certain he's developed a fever since the start of the day, too.
There's no way he's giving in to Chuuya's help, though. He has a lot to do, and they have a raid planned tonight on a group they've been working with that's been selling Port Mafia information behind their back. The preparation is a lot of work, it's something Dazai has been working on for weeks. A delicate situation against several powerful skill users.
"Hold off the raid. You guys have been planning it for weeks, what's one day gonna change?" Chuuya grumbles, taking a few steps closer to the desk where Dazai has just finished stacking his reports.
"Tonight is our only chance for an opening," Dazai huffs, as if it's obvious.
"Then I'll go."
"Yes, I definitely need gravity manipulator Chuuya in there, who doesn't know anything about the preparation we’ve been doing and is going to destroy everything in his path," Dazai grumbles.
"Come on. Don't talk about me like I'm a bulldozer."
"You are,” Dazai mumbles. He doesn’t have time to entertain his ideas. Chuuya is certainly capable of doing it himself, but Dazai has gotten this far in his planning and won’t give it up now. “There’s certain things I need to retrieve and certain people I need back alive.”
Chuuya looks like he wants to convince Dazai to just give him a brief overview on what he needs to do, but he seems to realize that he’s not going to get the information he wants. Dazai’s just the slightest bit taken aback by his silence, he’s tempted to joke about it, but he’s overcome with a wave of dizziness that has him afraid he’s about to pass out. It takes everything in him to stay standing upright, but he has to use the desk for support.
“Dazai - “
“ Quit bothering me, Chuuya,” Dazai hisses. Of course he wants to go home. He feels hot and clammy and uncomfortable on every level. The sweat on his forehead is starting to make his hairline feel damp. His stomach is twisting in ways that leaves him anxious. But this has to come first.
Chuuya, begrudgingly, leaves the room.
Not long afterward, Akutagawa appears in the doorway of the office. Dazai doesn’t turn around to check if it’s him. He can tell by his footsteps. Careful, quiet. Chuuya doesn’t walk like that.
Akutagawa is supposed to come on this raid with him.
"Akutagawa," Dazai starts as he turns around, immediately getting the latter's attention. Dazai’s head swims at the motion. There’s no way he can get through any kind of combat in this condition. Maybe Akutagawa is the next best thing. Akutagawa’s never lead a raid before, though.
"Yes, sir," he answers, his wide eyes fixed on Dazai.
"I'm gonna have you take the lead on this raid. I have things to take care of here," Dazai says without even making a real decision on it first. This probably isn’t a good idea, but it’s a good chance for Akutagawa to prove himself, so he thinks the kid won’t have any objection to it. "I need the two targets brought back alive. If I find out they’re dead, you’re next.”
He doesn't completely trust Akutagawa to do this on his own. He's still healing from injuries and he's entirely too immature to be leading a raid. Akutagawa at sixteen is much more incompetent than Dazai was at his age, but Dazai can't accompany him with how he's feeling, he knows that. He might pass out any second, honestly. Or throw up, whatever comes first. He’ll get himself killed in combat. Akutagawa is the only one who knows enough about the plan to take Dazai's place.
Akutagawa doesn't look entirely thrilled by that. He waits a few moments, like he’s expecting a just kidding. "You're…you're not coming?"
"No. I'm handing this off to you, did you not hear what I just said?" he asks, and Akutagawa straightens up. Dazai feels a sharp pain right at his temple.
Akutagawa looks confused, concerned, Dazai isn’t sure. He’s more focused on the pain in his head, and he presses a hand up to the side of it as he forces his eyes shut "Yes, I did, but -"
“Forget it, Akutagawa, you…you don’t…”
He really doesn't have the time for this. Honestly, he's starting to think maybe he should get this headache treated, but for some reason, he can't see Akutagawa anymore. Everything in front of him is so blurry that it looks black, and he tries to blink it away, but it doesn’t help.
He hears the sickening thud of his head against the carpet before he feels it. He’s not sure he even feels it before he blacks out.
"You're ridiculous."
The pressure against his temple is unbelievable.
The last thing he remembers is Akutagawa, so he's not entirely sure why he hears Chuuya's voice instead. He doesn’t think Akutagawa is even in the room, actually.
"I'm giving you two options. You let me take you to the infirmary, or you let me take you the fuck home. Asshole," Chuuya hisses.
"Where's…what happened?" Dazai asks, trying to force his eyes to focus as he opens them. He’s still in the same room. His head is on Chuuya’s lap, at least, and not on the floor.
"You passed out while you were talking to Akutagawa. Scared the life out of him. He thought you were dead," Chuuya sighs. He sounds thoroughly annoyed, moreso than usual. “Called me freaking out.”
Dazai huffs a laugh through his nose. "He should know I don't go down easy."
"Oh, he knows. You know how many times he's caught you trying to kill yourself?"
Dazai is suddenly reminded of how nauseous he was, but he isn't given a lot of time to really figure anything out.
"Chuuya," he murmurs in warning, bringing a hand up to his mouth for just a moment. There's so much saliva building up in his mouth that some of it slips from the corner of his lip as he tries to sit himself up, or at least move off of Chuuya’s lap. He feels it climbing up his throat and he tries to swallow it back, but it comes right back up his esophagus with a vengeance.
He leans over the carpeting and lets some of the saliva drip from his mouth onto the floor. There’s so much of it that it’s making him feel worse. He would rather just vomit right away than deal with all of the nausea beforehand, but he can already tell his esophagus won’t give it up that easy.
"You about to puke, or what?"
"How very observant," Dazai groans. He gags, but it doesn't seem to help his situation at all. He’s halfway propped up by his elbow. When he gets the energy, he’d really like to move this to some sort of toilet, but with how his head feels, he thinks he might pass out again if he tries to get up. He gags again, but nothing comes up, just more saliva. “Ugh, I…I can’t.”
Chuuya doesn't seem to waste any time. Dazai's eyes go wide when he realizes Chuuya’s gloved fingers are suddenly in his mouth. Definitely not the first time something of his has been in his mouth. Dazai has to keep his dirty thoughts to himself. Now is really not the time.
He retches once Chuuya gets far back enough. He burps around Chuuya's fingers, which prompts him to shove his hand a bit further back, as far as he can, and that seems to do the trick. Dazai can't give him much of a warning as the hot vomit rushes into the back of his throat with a final wet belch. It coats his fingers as he pulls them out and Dazai's suddenly more nauseous at the sight of that. He feels his stomach bubbling.
It’s not much at all, stomach acid and alcohol, maybe, that’s all that he’s really had today, but apparently there’s more of it. He manages to choke the rest of it out to splatter on top of the first bout before it starts to soak into the carpet.
“Gross,” Chuuya complains as he pulls his soiled glove off, but even so, he lays a hand on Dazai’s back.
“You’re the one who…urgh,” Dazai retaliates before his stomach doing a flip shuts him up. He feels Chuuya’s hand move up to the back of his neck.
“Your fever feels worse,” Chuuya grumbles, leaving his hand there for a few moments. Dazai relishes it, his hands are so cold. “I’m taking you home.”
"I don't wanna go home," Dazai says quietly as he lays his head back on Chuuya’s lap to meet his weirdly concerned gaze. He’s not used to seeing that expression. "Take me to the infirmary."
"Cool. I don't even know where you live," Chuuya grumbles. He doesn’t waste any time at all. Dazai doesn’t even have a good second to comprehend how quickly Chuuya scoops him up off of the floor to carry him like he’s his bride.
"You're so strong," Dazai teases.
Chuuya rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. This'd be a lot easier if I could use my damn ability on you."
“You calling me heavy?” Dazai says, continuing with his teasing. Messing with Chuuya always helps him feel better.
“ No, idiot. You weigh the same as a pack of instant ramen,” Chuuya teases back. “Did you have anything to eat today? Like, at all?”
“Mmm…a bottle of Sake or two,” Dazai recalls. His eyes drift over to watch the ceiling as Chuuya carries him down the hall. He knows Chuuya is trying to limit how much he moves him, but he’s starting to feel the nausea again regardless.
“Sake? That’s it?” Chuuya huffs. “You need to eat actual food.”
Dazai’s trying to think of something clever to say, but the way his stomach turns has his attention again. He doesn’t think he’s going to be sick again, at least not right now, but the nausea is seriously unbearable. He groans and wraps the arm he has laying over his abdomen just a bit tighter, hoping the pressure will help some.
“Do you need me to -”
“No, no,” Dazai sighs, “walk faster. I wanna lay down, you’re uncomfy.”
“Ugh.”
Dazai thinks he was starting to doze off just then, because when he has a second to focus on his surroundings again, he’s met with the white ceilings of the infirmary at the main building, and Chuuya gently setting him down on one of the cots. These things are so comfortable. He might try to snag one to replace the bare mattress in his shipping container.
He’s vaguely aware of Chuuya speaking to a nurse as he lays a hand over his forehead. It’s so soft, but more importantly, feels just like a cold washcloth would - that’s probably not a good sign. Dazai doesn’t have any idea how high his fever is, but Chuuya’s hands shouldn’t feel cold at all. They’re usually warm.
He feels the nurse start to look him over, and his eyes drift over to Chuuya, who doesn’t leave, for some reason. Dazai was fully expecting him to at least go sit down elsewhere, but he stays kneeled beside the cot with a hand on Dazai. It moves from his forehead to his cheek, then to his neck - he must know that it feels nice.
"Is Akutagawa leading the raid?" Dazai asks quietly, suddenly remembering his prior dilemma. He doesn’t have any clue what time it is.
"Yeah, he is," Chuuya says.
"Have you heard back? How long has it been?" Dazai asks.
"I haven't heard back," Chuuya huffs. “Hirotsu went with him. I’m sure it’s fine.”
Oh, thank god. Dazai’s glad someone was cross referencing him. Sending Akutagawa out on his own was a ridiculous idea. He really shouldn’t be making decisions like that with a fevered brain. He’s surprised Chuuya didn’t go in on it himself. He loves those types of things, but he’s here instead.
He doesn’t catch anything that the nurse says, but he already know he has a fever. Whether this is a flu or a cold doesn’t matter to him, he’ll take tonight to rest and then go back to working tomorrow. But he’ll keep his plans from Chuuya for now.
The nausea hits him like a truck for some reason when he tries to let his eyes fall shut, and he forces himself to sit up and lean forward, much to Chuuya’s surprised. He hears a complaint from him, something about laying down, but he seems to realize quickly enough that he’s nauseous again.
Chuuya holds an apparently nearby bedpan under his chin to let the stringly saliva drip into it, and all he can bring up is a sour wad of stomach bile. It burns coming up, all the way in the back of his throat. This probably would have felt at least a little better if there was actual food in his system. Maybe Chuuya had a point.
He groans, eyes screwed shut. He doesn’t think he has more to bring up, but his stomach won’t give him a break with its twisting and turning.
"Lay down, dammit,” Chuuya says after a few moments, but Dazai shakes his head. He can’t. He thinks laying down flat like that is bothering his stomach for some reason, and somehow, Chuuya feels to extract that from his mind. He says something to the nurse and she’s suddenly nearby with two more pillows to lay on top of the first one, and once they’re placed, Chuuya gently guides him back down.
“What a sweetheart you are,” Dazai half-teases.
“Shut up,” Chuuya hisses, clearly not enjoying that kind of tease in front of anyone who isn’t just the two of them, but weirdly enough, he takes his hand.
Dazai’s head starts to feel better.
He slips in and out of it for a while. The nurse places an IV and gives him some medication, something that starts to help his nausea, and Chuuya busies himself with an actual cold washcloth on Dazai’s burning forehead instead of his hand, and it really does feel nice. Sure, none of this is all-curing, but he feels better for now. His stomach doesn’t seem to have any surprise lurches left in store for him either, at least not for the time being.
He should thank Chuuya later. Dazai’s glad he didn’t let himself go back to his shipping container. This is objectively nicer. And probably a way better idea.
“Don’t you have better things to do? Port Mafia Executive?” Dazai teases weakly, hardly able to keep his eyes open. Chuuya’s still right there beside the cot. He almost feels guilty keeping him here.
Chuuya just sighs. “Enough out of you.”
He slips out of it for a little while longer, long enough for the lights in the infirmary to go off. Dazai has been in here enough times to know that means it’s past midnight.
"Is he okay?" Dazai hears a new voice ask. It’s a whisper that he doesn’t recognize right away, but it’s not Chuuya. Chuuya isn’t at his side anymore.
"He'll be fine. Go home,” he hears Chuuya hiss.
"But -"
"I'm your superior too. Go home, Akutagawa," Chuuya huffs. Dazai thinks what he feels wash over him is relief. He didn’t think Akutagawa was going to die, but if he did, it would have been due to Dazai’s ridiculous fevered ideas. He won’t admit to that, though.
"Please let me know if his condition worsens," Akutagawa says quietly.
"I will," he sighs. Dazai starts to try and sit up, just a bit, but he doesn’t have the energy. The washcloth just ends up slipping over his eyes, and he’s too defeated to do anything but lie back down. “Go home. You have your own injuries to take care of.”
He hears Akutagawa’s familiar footsteps recede, and Chuuya’s come closer, back to where he was beside the cot. This time, he sits on the space beside Dazai, and he adjusts the washcloth on his forehead.
“Go back to sleep,” Chuuya says quietly in a chiding tone, “you need to sleep this fever off.”
“Was that -”
"You do not deserve his pity," Chuuya grumbles. He seems to know that Dazai already knows exactly who it was. "I really don't get him."
"That makes two of us," he says, only slightly aware of his hoarse his voice is sounding. “The raid, did -”
“Hirotsu came by earlier to give me the report. Everything went down like you expected, and they captured the two you wanted alive. Akutagawa did,” Chuuya informs him. Dazai’s surprised he didn’t catch Hirotsu coming by. “So quit worrying and go back to sleep, dammit.”
Dazai’s surprised to hear Akutagawa brought anyone back alive. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
“I’m taking you home once you’re off this IV. Don’t think for a second you get to work until this fever’s gone. Got it?” Chuuya says in a whisper, fixing Dazai’s unruly bangs before the hand rests on his cheek. Dazai can hardly see him at all, just his outline from the doorframe allowing in the hallway’s light, but he can feel his concern. It’s strange. He’s not used to it. He doesn’t think he ever will be.
“Scanedlous,” Dazai teases, leaning into Chuuya’s hand as his eyes start to fall shut again. “An executive taking me home?”
“Enough,” Chuuya tells him. “Sleep.”
It doesn’t take much, especially with Chuuya’s cool hand there on his cheek.