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“Odasakuuuu! Let me come with you! C’monnn, I’m not busy, I swear it!” Dazai whined. He was dramatically draped over a chair in his office, pleading with Oda. The redhead leaned against the doorframe, his blank expression not giving anything away.
“I don’t know. Are you sure it won’t be a problem with the boss?”
“Who cares? I wanna go! I’ve got nothing better to do!”
Oda was going to tell him that he did, in fact, care a lot about whether or not this would anger their boss, but decided against it, sighing. “Okay, alright. Let’s go.”
Dazai cheered, springing up and bolting out the door. He practically flew through the building, and it only took a few seconds for him to be out of Oda’s line of sight. The older man didn’t share the same excitement, heading the same direction at a normal pace. He wasn’t exactly sure why Dazai was so excited, but it was a rare emotion for the younger, so he figured it couldn’t hurt to comply.
Getting down the stairs and out the door, Dazai was already waiting beside a much nicer car than Oda would usually drive.
“I don’t know if I have authorization to drive that,” he said, raising an eyebrow. Dazai just grinned.
“Well, I do. Can we stop for food? I’m hungry.” The brunette swung open the passenger door and hopped in. Oda figured he probably wasn’t lying — being an executive definitely had its perks — and climbed in the driver's seat. He never really understood the hype people had around different types of cars, but he couldn’t deny that the engine made a lovely noise when he turned the key. They headed down the road, only driving for about five minutes before stopping at a diner.
“Isn’t someone going to steal it?” Oda asked as they pushed the door open, keys dangling from his finger.
“Oh, trust me. No thief is going to get near it,” Dazai replied cheerfully. Oda didn’t really want to know what he meant by that.
They took a seat and ordered drinks, and Oda could swear this was the happiest he’d ever seen Dazai. The boy was smiling, chattering away about something (Oda thinks he caught something about cloning extinct animals) with the brightest smile he’d ever seen on anyone, much less Dazai.
“—and there’s been possible sightings of them recently! Isn’t that cool?” he asked, his visible eye shining as he looked at Oda, blinking expectantly.
“...yeah, that is pretty cool,” he answered, trying not to give away that he hadn't been listening. At least visibly, Dazai was none the wiser, smiling.
“Yeah!” He leaned back in his seat, rapidly thumping his wrists against the edge of the table. “Mm, my stomach hurts.”
Oda narrowed his eyes. “If your stomach hurts, why are we at a restaurant?”
“Nah, it hurts ‘cus I’m hungry.” He sat back up, now resting his chin on the table.
“It hurts because you’re hungry? When was the last time you even ate?”
Dazai frowned. “Don’t ask that. You won’t like the answer.”
Oda complied, which seemed to please the younger, who closed his eyes, fists softly tapping the cushion of the booth they sat at. Eventually, their food did come, and Oda felt confident Dazai broke a record at the speed he ate the french toast he’d ordered. Oda ate at a more normal pace, watching Dazai finish and just sip on his iced coffee. The younger insisted on paying, handing a very flashy-looking card to the waitress, along with a slip of paper.
“If your business ever finds itself in any kind of trouble, let me know,” he said. She looked skeptical, but ultimately, pocketed the note and walked away. When she walked back, handing Dazai his card, he hopped up, clearly ready to get a move on. Oda followed him out the door and back to the car. It was kind of nice to have a day off like this. They could pretend they were just two people without obligations. He watched the brunette climb in the backseat and stretch out, and he was briefly reminded of a black cat before he threw himself over, landing in the passenger seat.
“Mkay, let’s go, come on! The car is really hot,” Dazai whined, watching Oda through the windshield. When Oda got in the driver’s seat, the first thing he noticed was it was definitely not hot. It was about the same temperature as it was outside, and with the gray clouds looming overhead, bringing the threat of rain with them, it was on the colder side. Oda didn’t really think much of it, though, starting the car and heading off.
“How’s your work been recently? Feels like it’s been forever since we’ve gone out for drinks,” Dazai asked, leaning forward and pressing his face against the dashboard.
“It’s been a week, Dazai,” Oda pointed out, and Dazai just grinned in reply. “But it’s been alright. You’re actively accompanying me to an assignment right now.”
“It’s not a real assignment though, so it’s okay,” Dazai said, whacking his arms against the seat.
“Knock that off,” Oda deadpanned, only shooting him a glance. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”
“Ooh, sca~ary,” Dazai grumbled, but he did stop, his fists lightly tapping his legs now. The ride was mostly quiet the rest of the way there, and when the car came to a stop, Dazai was slow to move. Oda was out of the car and walking toward where he needed to go before Dazai had even opened his door. He caught up, though, following Oda into the warehouse. There was supposed to be a package here that needed to be picked up, but as their footsteps echoed throughout the building, it looked empty. No telltale signs, none of the typical trails. A million possibilities were running through Oda’s head. Was the time wrong? Had someone stolen the package? Did–
“Odasaku,” Dazai whispered from behind him, sounding almost like he was panting. When Oda looked back, he looked a lot paler than usual, sweat beading on his forehead. “It’s a setup.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, a gunshot rang out. Oda reached for the gun on his hip, but Dazai had snatched it already, shooting at the figure that, if it had been anyone but the two of them, would’ve been invisible. Whoever it was screamed, collapsing, and Dazai tossed the gun back to Oda before darting toward the body, blood already seeping out and covering the floor. Dazai walked back to Oda, dead man’s gun in hand, fingers covered in blood.
“Don’t bother hiding,” he called, his voice thundering through the warehouse, and Oda noticed a tremor as he spoke. “Come out here and I’ll just kill you now.”
Four men exited from different corners, and instantly, Dazai and Oda were in each other’s blindspots. In a matter of seconds, all four men were on the ground, and Dazai headed toward one of the ones Oda had shot.
“How many more of you are there?” he snapped, his heel making an indent in their chest.
“There was only supposed to be…one of you…” they croaked, and Dazai sneered before shooting them in the head, tossing the gun to the side.
“If you live from your wounds, make sure whoever sent you doesn’t make this mistake again,” he spat at the last remaining living body before turning around and exiting the warehouse. Oda followed him out, frowning.
“Dazai, you didn’t have to—”
The words died on his lips as Dazai crashed into him, clinging to him with what was clearly all the strength he had left in him.
“I don’t feel good, Odasaku,” he whispered, and Oda was painfully reminded of the orphans he took care of. Under all the formalities and blood, Dazai was just a kid too.
“What’s wrong?” Oda asked, setting a hand on Dazai’s head.
“Stomach hurts,” he mumbled, and when Oda moved his hand to Dazai’s forehead, he hummed with displeasure.
“You’re burning up. Come on.” Oda hefted Dazai into a carry, and shockingly, Dazai complied, pushing his face into Oda’s shoulder. Oda could feel the heat practically radiating off of Dazai as he breathed; slow, heavy pants escaping his mouth.
“S’rry,” he slurred. “I wanted to hang out with you.”
“If you were feeling bad, you should’ve said something. I don’t want you to be hanging out with me if you’re sick,” Oda sighed. Dazai’s breath hitched.
“S’rry,” he repeated, sniffling, and only then did Oda realize how it sounded.
“Not because you’re too much to deal with, okay?” They’d made it to the car now, and Oda gingerly placed Dazai in the passenger seat. “I know that’s what you’re thinking. I just don’t want you overexerting yourself is all.”
Dazai mumbled something inaudible in reply as Oda circled around to the other side, getting in and starting the car.
“Sorry that we got jumped. It really was supposed to be a pickup,” he said, beginning to drive a little faster than he should.
“S’okay,” Dazai muttered, curling into himself and wrapping his arms around his stomach. “I know they wouldn’t let you do a five v one. No offense.”
“None taken.”
The only sound for a while was the low hum of the engine, and Oda was briefly ignorant of the situation to admire the car.
“Odasaku, we have to pull over,” Dazai said shakily, breaking the silence. Oda didn’t waste any time, slowing to a stop and pulling over. Thankfully, it was a relatively empty road, and Dazai swung the door open, just barely managing to lean over as he retched, vomit splattering on the asphalt. Oda reached over, rubbing Dazai’s back as he shivered, gagging again. He stayed there for a while, hunched over and throwing up, but eventually, he recoiled back into the seat, pulling his jacket tightly around himself.
“Are you okay?” Oda asked, hand still hovering hesitantly nearby.
“Gross,” Dazai whispered, his voice hoarse. “I wanna go home.”
“I don’t know where you live.”
Dazai shook his head. “Don’t take me back to where I live. Bring me to your place.”
“...what?” Oda looked confused as Dazai closed the car door, back still turned to the other.
“I don’t wanna go to my house,” he said softly, and Oda sighed, knowing perfectly well he’d never live it down in his own mind if he left this kid alone now.
“Okay. But I have to report back and let them know how the mission went.”
“Don’t let the boss see me,” was all he said, putting his forehead against the window.
It didn’t take long for them to make it to the Port Mafia headquarters, and Dazai didn’t move as Oda left the car and, just for good measure, locked it. He was pretty sure he passed the gravity manipulator Dazai talks about all the time, but neither of them made eye contact, so Oda shook the thought from his mind that maybe he should tell him about Dazai’s current condition.
He made his way to Ango’s office, because reporting his findings to his partner was never a bad idea. Swinging the door open, Ango instantly looked displeased at being interrupted before seeing who it was.
“Ah, Oda. What brings you here at this time of day? I thought you had a mission.”
“I did,” Oda responded, closing the door behind him. “It was a ruse.”
“Really?” The dim light glinted off Ango’s glasses. “How inconvenient. Did you get hurt?”
“No, neither of us got hurt. The package wasn’t there at all, though.”
“...neither of you?”
Mentally, Oda was slapping himself for that misstep. “Dazai insisted on coming with me.”
Ango sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Of course. Always acting like a child, that one.”
“He’s seventeen,” Oda pointed out.
“He’s an executive.”
“And still practically a kid.”
Ango threw his hands in the air. “Look, I don’t really have time to debate the boss’ poor choice in leadership positions. Was the mission report all?”
“Can you cover for Dazai and I?”
Ango glared at him. “You’ve GOT to be kidding.”
“Not for any reason you think,” Oda said hurriedly. “He’s sick.”
“Sick because he’s hungover?” Ango interrogated, narrowing his eyes.
“No, he’s just sick. Ango, he was clinging to me outside the warehouse. I’ve never even seen him open to even having a hug, and I’ve patched his wounds countless times.”
Ango took a sharp inhale. “I’ll cover. Go take care of him, please.”
“I will. Love you,” Oda said, throwing a final glance over his shoulder as he began to leave. He could see Ango’s face get red.
“Love you too. Get out of my office,” Ango replied, shooing him away with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Oda did exactly as Ango had said, leaving the office and hurrying through the halls to get back to the parking lot. Through the windshield, he could barely see Dazai, brown curls pressed against the dashboard.
Fuck, maybe he shouldn’t have locked the doors.
He practically dashed to the passenger door, unlocking it and swinging it open.
“Odasakuuu…” Dazai whimpered, just barely turning his head. His eyes were full of tears as he wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his jacket. He was sitting on his feet, a pool of vomit in the wheel well of the car.
“Oh, buddy,” Oda hissed, reaching out and picking up the smaller boy. He moved him into the backseat, and Dazai sniffled when he let go, eyes glassy enough that Oda would bet money he was delirious. “It’s okay. I’m bringing you to my place.”
“Home?” Dazai murmured, and Oda’s suspicions were confirmed.
“Sure.” He gently ruffled Dazai’s hair. “If that’s what you want to call it.”
Dazai nodded, blinking heavily, and Oda closed the door and circled around to the driver's seat.
“It won’t take long, I promise,” he assured, starting the car and heading out. Thankfully, Dazai didn’t get sick again on the ride, and as they pulled in, Oda would’ve thought he’d fallen asleep if it weren’t for the long whine he let out.
“Are we here?” he mumbled, eyes half-lidded as Oda opened his door.
“Yeah, come here. I’m gonna bring you inside,” he said, scooping Dazai up off the seat. He grumbled a little as he was lifted, but ultimately, he was quiet as Oda carried him inside, unlocking the door one-handed and laying Dazai on the couch. He went to the kitchen, grabbing a trashcan and setting it in front of where he lay on the couch. “I’m gonna go clean up the car, okay?”
Dazai winced. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Oda reassured him, messing with his hair a little before standing and leaving. Thankfully, most of it had gotten on the removable carpet, so he could just hose it down and toss it in the washing machine. The rest of it wasn’t much, and with a scrub brush and a solid cleaning spray, he was able to wash it out in no time. Dazai hadn’t moved much in the time he’d been gone, shivering on the couch, and Oda felt a little bad for leaving him at all.
“Do you wanna change?” he asked, laying a hand on the arm of the couch next to Dazai’s head. “I can’t imagine what you’re in could be comfortable. I’ve got some clothes you can borrow.”
“Mm,” Dazai hummed, opening his eyes. “Mkay.” Slowly, he got up from the couch and stumbled over to Oda, ready to follow. Oda led him to his bedroom, where he grabbed a t-shirt and sweatpants and placed them on the counter of the connected bathroom.
“You can change in there,” he said. Dazai nodded, swallowing thickly and entering the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Oda left, hoping Dazai would be alright, and sat down on the couch. A couple minutes later, Dazai came back out, still a little shaky on his feet, but looking a lot more comfortable as he climbed onto the couch, leaning against Oda and hiding his face in his shoulder.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this open to touch before,” Oda commented.
“Sorry,” Dazai murmured, his breathing still just as heavy as it had been in the car.
“It’s okay. It doesn’t bother me.” Oda gently petted Dazai’s hair, and the brunette nuzzled into the touch. It was hard to believe, Oda thought, that the Demon Prodigy of the Port Mafia was like this on his couch, like a clingy child who’s been lost for so long. Maybe that’s all Dazai was when it came down to it.
They stayed like that for a while, the quiet rumble of far-off thunder sounding off every so often, and Oda could swear Dazai fell asleep at one point.
Good things only last so long, though, and out of nowhere Dazai was throwing himself off Oda and towards the trash can on the floor. He hiccuped, and a thin stream of watery vomit came out, followed by a quiet whimper. Oda frowned, moving next to him and rubbing his back.
“This has got to be some nasty stomach bug,” he said, and Dazai just closed his eyes, gagging again unproductively. “I’m sorry, Dazai.”
The gagging let up after a while, and Dazai’s shoulder’s were hunched, like he didn’t even have the energy to keep them up anymore.
“Are you done?” Oda asked, and Dazai nodded weakly. Oda took the trash can, gathering the bag out of it and quickly tossing it into the trash out front before getting a glass of water and another bag, handing the cup to Dazai. He looked so out of it—his face was up against the couch, not even bothering to get back onto it. When he looked up to take the glass, Oda could see tears brimming in his eyes.
“Thank you,” he mumbled, still shaking despite how he gripped the cup with both hands.
“Are you okay?” Oda asked, eyebrows furrowing together in concern.
“Mhm,” he replied halfheartedly, sipping at the water.
“Are you really?”
Dazai’s lower lip trembled as he stopped drinking, blinking up at Oda and shaking his head. “Mh-hm.”
Oda swore his heart was going to burst. Dazai, who’d killed four men just earlier today, who had the blood of countless people on his hands, maybe enough to even rival Oda. And somehow, despite all of that, he was a child. He was just a child.
Oda wondered if he should start saying he took care of seven orphans.
“C’mere,” he said, sitting down on the couch and opening his arms. Dazai whined, crawling onto the couch and into Oda’s embrace.
“I feel gross, Odasaku…” he sniffled, burying his face in Oda’s shirt as he clung to it.
“I know, buddy, I know.” Oda ran a gentle hand through Dazai’s messy hair, feeling how he shuddered under the unfamiliar kind touch.
“‘m sorry,” he whispered, all his words heavy with tears. Oda hushed him softly.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
Oda held Dazai until his sobs slowed and his breathing evened out, the feverish warmth still radiating off of him as he fell asleep, Oda’s hand still nestled in his hair.
Somehow, even in their world of pain, this kindness felt natural.