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Michizo lays a hand over his bloated tummy, almost certain this isn't going to stay down. He ate far too much and far too quickly, but admitting any of that would mean a very stern ‘I told you so’ lecture from Higuchi.
It's just him, Higuchi, and Gin. Akutagawa is off somewhere doing work with the Detective Agency at the former executive's request, and Hirotsu is working with the boss on something top secret. Higuchi always seems a little lost when she's not working directly with Akutagawa. She invited the two of them to dinner, on her wallet, and of course, they couldn't refuse even if they wanted to.
But now, he's gotten himself into trouble.
“I'll be right back,” Michizo stammers nervously, waving his phone to the two of them, “important phone call.”
Neither of them question it but he sees a glint of suspicion in Gin’s eyes. She’s far too observant for her own good, he thinks, but he’s in too much of a hurry to try to ward any of it off. As long as Higuchi doesn’t notice, he’s free to go.
He slips away into the front hall of the restaurant where the restroom is, where he lets up a nauseous burp into a closed fist as soon as he’s alone. He’s lucky enough to be the only person in the restroom when he slips inside, so he locks himself into one of the three available stalls and slides down the wall to sit on the ground, arms wrapped around his middle to nurse his aching tummy.
His meal is sitting so heavy in his stomach that he's certain if he bends over, it'll fall right out of his mouth. He leans over the toiler for a second to test his theory, but all he can manage is a pained moan. He lays back against the wall, sneaking a hand under his shirt. His hand feels cold against his too-warm swollen tummy. He tries to rub and press on it, but all that ends up doing is making him burp. He brings a fist up to his mouth to force a few more, hoping maybe that will bring him closer to throwing up.
“ Hrrpp - ugh…” he moans, throwing his head back, realizing all this is doing is making him more nauseous. He really doesn’t want to shove his hand down his throat. He’s tried before, he always chickens out.
“Tachihara?”
Gin's voice never fails to scare the crap out of him, even now that he's been hearing it for months. He doesn’t know how he missed hearing her footsteps, or the door opening, but he sees her heels under the stall door.
“Are you okay?” she asks after he had been silent for a bit too long.
“I need to puke. I ate too much,” he groans, deciding that there’s no point in lying to her. “I'd rather get it over with now than deal with it all night…I'm fine, I just…need a minute.”
“Do you want help?”
She offers that so casually. She's offering to shove her fingers down his throat, he's pretty sure, and she’s saying it like she’s just offering to get him a glass of water. The way that thought makes him feel is a whole other story.
“You can say no,” Gin says a little quieter, almost like she's embarrassed about offering, but Michizo is truly in no position to refuse her. He’s already run out of options.
“ No , I mean - I, uh. Anything to make it go faster, honestly,” Michizo stammers as nonchalantly as he can, but Gin doesn't seem to notice that he's a little nervous, at least, not as far as he can tell.
She manages to open the stall door from the other side with zero struggle, a skill of hers that has always scared him, but he’s grateful now - he really didn’t want to get up to let her in. She closes the door behind her, and Michizo feels his heart start to hammer in his chest as soon as she turns around. He always has a hard time deciding what she’s thinking when she’s wearing that mask.
She kneels in front of him and he presses himself up flush against the wall. He’s thinking about how hilarious Jouno would think this situation is. He joked about it from the beginning - Michizo having a crush on some high-ranking Port Mafia member, and here he is, letting her make him throw up, and for some reason, he thinks it’s hot.
“Are you ready?” she asks gently, tilting her head. He nods without thinking, and he parts his lips as soon as she lifts up her hand. He huffs out a shaky breath as her fingers brush over his lips.
Gin's cold, slender fingers snake to the back of his throat and Michizo's pissed he has an over-active gag reflex. He finds himself trying to force his stomach to settle for just a few seconds longer. His mouth floods with saliva that surely coats Gin’s hand. He moans against it, not entirely sure why nothing has come up yet, but she shoves her hand back a little further, and he feels it rush up his throat.
Gin manages to take her hand back just before thick, undigested vomit floods over his tongue, nearly splattering over his thighs. He closes his mouth just in time to avoid a disaster, but Gin lays a hand on his back to direct him to the toilet, where he opens his mouth and lets the torrent of vomit splatter into the water.
“That’s good,” she tells him gently. He feels her hand sneak under the front of his shirt to press against his tummy, sending shivers down his spine before he burps up another wave of hot chunks into the toilet water. “Be careful how much you eat next time.”
Michizo’s not sure he wants to follow that advice, if this is how it ends for him.