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“Hey, easy, watch your step.”
Dazai’s casted leg caught on the stoop, and he stumbled, a quiet grunt of pain slipping past his defenses. If it wasn’t for the red-headed mafioso holding him up, he would’ve face planted in the doorway.
“I told you you should’ve just let me carry you.” Frustration dripped from Chuuya’s tone as he tightened his hold on his former partner. He practically was carrying him, but the stubborn idiot insisted on the awkward hold they were now stuck in.
“Exercise is good for recovery,” Dazai smirked, but he was panting, sweaty and shaking.
“Not when you just got out of the hospital and are supposed to be on bed rest.” Chuuya bared his teeth, no fangs in sight.
Dazai started to huff a laugh, but it was immediately choked off as he curled in on himself.
“Dazai?!” Chuuya felt panic flare in his chest. He shifted his grip so he could force Dazai’s chin up.
Dazai was white as a sheet and clammy, trembling so violently with pain that Chuuya knew what was coming before it happened.
Dazai’s legs buckled, but Chuuya was ready. He easily scooped Dazai into a princess carry and brought him to the lone bed in his French safe house.
Dazai couldn’t suppress his strangled gasp when Chuuya laid him on the bed, and Chuuya felt guilt squeeze his heart.
“Don’t be such a baby. You brought this upon yourself, you know. Stupid genius with your idiotic plans.” Chuuya’s voice was forcibly gruff, even as he stroked Dazai’s head while he rode out the wave of pain. Chuuya cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the building pressure there.
After what seemed like hours, but in reality was probably only a few minutes, Dazai went boneless, pain finally receding in its intensity. He looked completely spent, exhausted in every form of the word.
Chuuya brushed Dazai’s sweat-curled bangs out of his eyes, revealing the fresh bandage behind it. His breath caught and he blinked against the sudden heat behind his eyes. He ripped his hand away and turned to leave the room.
“Chuuya?”
The croak made him pause in his escape. He cleared his throat again, willing his voice to come out steady as he kept his face to the door.
“Just getting a few things. You better still be in that bed when I come back.”
There was no answer, or at least Chuuya didn’t hear one in his hurry to leave the room. He strode into the kitchen, trying to keep his thoughts occupied as he prepared Dazai’s pain meds with shaking hands.
He tried to focus on the pills, getting out the correct dosage of the correct medication at the correct time.
Was Dazai supposed to eat with this med?
No, the doctor said he shouldn’t eat anything just yet.
What about water? Is water ok?
We can’t have him getting dehydrated.
What am I thinking, how else is he gonna take the pills if he can’t drink water.
Focus, Chuuya.
When was I supposed to change his bandages again?
I should’ve already had him ice his leg, at this rate he’s gonna-
The pill bottle clattered to the floor as Chuuya’s unsteady hands fumbled with it. The pills scattered across the tiled floor and Chuuya slammed a gloved fist on the counter.
He covered his face with his other hand and took shuddering breaths, trying to will away the thoughts— the memories— that flooded his brain any time he slowed down for long enough.
He preferred the agony of being under the control of Corruption to the violation of the vampirism’s control. At least when he was at the mercy of Arahabaki, it was his choice. Dazai had always made sure of it.
Watching from inside a body that wouldn’t respond to his orders, as he aimed that gun… the pure agony in Dazai’s voice-
His teeth were clenched so hard, he heard them squeak in protest, and his vision blurred. He could feel his breathing picking up speed as the breaths scraped through his airway.
Then, the tears fell.
Chuuya had never been a silent crier, not like Dazai, but he tried to bite back the sobs that wanted to rip themselves out of his chest.
He wanted to scream.
Scream at Dazai for coming up with that stupid plan in the first place. Scream at Fyodor for using him and taking away his autonomy. Scream at the world for being so wretchedly unfair.
Scream at himself, for not being able to do anything about it.
The iron tang of blood nipped his tongue as he realized he must’ve broken skin from how hard he was biting his lip. He took a stuttering deep breath, blowing it out slowly as he tried to calm himself.
He had to hold it together. He couldn’t fall apart right now. Dazai needed him.
A sudden thud from the bedroom had Chuuya’s head snapping up, all prior emotions gone and replaced with that bone-deep panic that was becoming so familiar.
“Dazai?”
He was bursting into the bedroom before the name finished leaving his mouth. His heart thundered in his ears as he assessed the situation.
Dazai was in bed, propped up on one arm like he’d been trying to get up, but had only made it so far. His eyes were squeezed shut under pinched brows, and Chuuya could see the muscle in his jaw twitch as he gritted his teeth against the pain.
As Chuuya started towards the bed, his foot bumped against something, and he looked down.
It was one of his poetry books. He huffed. Dazai must’ve grabbed it off of the nightstand and thrown it to get his attention.
At least the sound had come from property destruction, rather than a dimwitted patient falling off the bed.
Chuuya glared at Dazai, who finally opened an eye to look at him.
“I could hear you thinking from out there,” was Dazai’s shaky reply to Chuuya’s unspoken question.
Chuuya blinked, glare faltering.
I know what you’re thinking, went unsaid.
Chuuya averted his no-doubt red-rimmed eyes. They always did that, on the, albeit rare, occasions that Chuuya shed tears. There was no point in trying to hide it from Dazai, even if he hadn’t seen the evidence. The bastard always knew.
“Come here, Chibi.”
Chuuya’s eyes snapped back to the man in the bed.
Dazai was obviously struggling to hold himself up, but he was looking at Chuuya with such fondness, such unabashed trust, and a light in his eyes that Chuuya had never seen before.
Chuuya took halting steps towards the bed, azure eyes never straying from chestnut brown, until he reached him.
Dazai held out a pale, weak hand and smiled gently.
Chuuya looked at the hand, then back up to Dazai’s face, apprehension clear in his expression.
“Oh, so now Chuuya doesn’t want to touch me? Usually he can’t keep his han- OOF!”
Chuuya lunged forward, gathering Dazai’s thin body in his arms, as if by doing so he could shield him from any more harm. After a few seconds, he felt bandaged arms hesitantly wrap around his waist. Dazai buried his nose in Chuuya’s chest, nuzzling like a cat.
Chuuya squeezed his eyes shut, not willing to cry twice in one day, and buried his face in Dazai’s loose curls.
“Chuuya never lets me down.” Dazai murmured against his heart. Chuuya huffed a half-sob.
“Stop trying to make me cry, asshole,” he let out a watery laugh.
“But I want to see Chibi turn into a blubbering mess,” Dazai’s whine was muffled into his chest.
Chuuya gave a harsh sniff to banish any more chances of tears.
“Ahh… as much as I’m enjoying bonding time, I think that if I don’t lie down, Chuuya’s going to have a mess to clean up.”
Chuuya quickly pulled back to see Dazai’s chalky white face breaking out into a cold sweat.
“You feel sick? Are you dizzy?” Chuuya carefully helped Dazai lay back against the pillows, adjusting them behind him so he’d be more comfortable.
“A bit,” Dazai admitted, taking a few deep breaths and smiling grimly. “The pain isn’t exactly helping either.”
Chuuya mentally slapped himself. He’d forgotten Dazai’s pain meds!
He rushed back to the kitchen, gathering the meds, water, an ice pack, and a change of gauze. His hands were much steadier now, and he quickly returned to Dazai’s side.
He helped him sit up enough to swallow the pills, then eased him back down. He fixed the pillow elevating Dazai’s surgically-repaired broken leg and applied the ice.
Then, he turned to the head injury. He’d used his gravity manipulation to redirect the bullet as it left the barrel, but injury had been unavoidable. They’d both known that.
He brushed back Dazai’s bangs again, but hesitated to peel back the gauze.
Dazai slowly opened his eyes to gaze up at Chuuya. When he spoke, there wasn’t a hint of doubt in his voice.
“Those hands have saved me more times than I can count.”
Chuuya’s breath hitched and he met Dazai’s stare.
“Next time, come up with a plan that doesn’t involve you getting fatally injured,” he whispered.
I’m sorry.
Dazai’s eyes slipped closed and a small smile graced his lips.
“I can’t promise anything. It was for the good of the agency.” Mischievous brown met blue again. “Besides, I have a loyal doggy who comes when I call.”
There’s nothing to forgive.
“Tch.” Chuuya finished changing the gauze and let Dazai’s curls bounce back to cover it before turning away. “I’m not your damn dog, jackass.” He paused. “That’s what partners are for, aren’t they?”
“…Partners?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
When no response came, Chuuya turned back to face him.
Dazai was staring at him with wide, shining eyes. At being caught, he ducked his head with a watery chuckle, ears tinged pink.
“Ahh. I see.”
Chuuya hid a smile at the rare sight of his genius partner looking so lost for words. He walked around to the other side of the bed, and settled himself next to Dazai.
“Come on. You need to get some rest. Your little agency friends are blowing up your phone about seeing you once you’re on the mend.” He rolled his eyes and started playing with Dazai’s hair again, smiling as the brunet relaxed into the touch, fatigue-lined eyes drooping to half-mast.
Yet, even through the pain and exhaustion painted on his face, Dazai stared at Chuuya with utter contentment. He looked like he’d be jumping for joy if he could.
“If you insist… partner.”