Work Text:
Sometimes, Chuuya wants to strangle Dazai.
Right now is one of those times.
He’s been sitting here for hours. Filing paperwork, doing reports, which would have been done ages ago, if that filthy mackerel could ever bother to help anyone but himself.
But of course, as soon as the mission had been done, Dazai had basically dissolved into thin air; just disappeared off the face of the earth. Not that Chuuya hadn’t heard him sneak back into the apartment twenty minutes ago, though being physically present was obviously not reason enough to actually do anything productive. That bastard.
Lucky as he was, Chuuya was also allowed to get back to the port mafia building to hand in all those fucking documents today right after he’s finished, because no one can wait for that until tomorrow. There isn’t even anything he has to do tomorrow because the mission was finished today. He wouldn’t have had a problem with just bringing the stack of papers there the next morning or something.
Moreover, there’s a familiar itch at the back of his head since this morning, begging to develop into the fuzzy feeling spreading in his brain. He doesn’t have the fucking time for this. For anything, really.
Sighing dramatically, he leans back onto his chair. He’s getting frustrated. Worse, he can feel the signs of not being far away from the fuzziness regressing altogether. He’s tethering on some mental edge, swinging back and forth, always threatening to fall.
When he looks back down at the paper, the words are harder to read. He can’t make any sense of them. Damn it.
The longer he stares, the worse it gets, and eventually he must zone out. When he blinks back to awareness, there are little drawings next to his writing. Nothing more than a little fish and some random forms, but those are…
Doodles. Those are god-damn doodles. You don’t childishly doodle on port mafia documents. God, this means he’s going to have to start this page all over again.
Only as the first drop hits the paper does he notice there are angry tears welling up in his eyes. Stupid. This is all stupid.
Taking a shaky breath, he wipes his sleeves over his eyes, then tries to pull himself together and go back to his work. This is fine. He can do this.
Nope, he can’t. The words are too blurry to read, and his tears keep on dripping onto the paper. At least it’s still the one with the drawing, so he supposes it doesn’t matter all that much.
He tries to pull on his hair as hard as he can without actively ripping out whole chunks of it, then roughly pinches himself in the arm in hopes of getting out of this haziness.
The pain doesn’t help, and he has to suppress the urge to bang his head against his desk repeatedly. Well, he does, but only once. Just to see if it works, which it doesn’t. He can feel a headache forming, but that’s about it.
He won’t get anything done like this. He’s basically useless. But this has to be finished today, so there’s only one option.
Oh god, he will have to ask Dazai to help him.
Dazai, the laziest person in the whole of Yokohama, who would rather cut off his own hand than lift a single finger when he doesn’t have to, and who will see just how bad exactly this regression thing now impacts Chuuya’s worth work.
Bracing himself with a deep breath, he takes the documents and stands up from his desk chair, back cracking with the movement.
While he clumsily stumbles through the room - his legs feel a little wobbly, and he’s not sure if it’s just the long sitting - his gaze gets stuck on the bedside drawer. Inside sits Lola, waiting for him to pick her up. He was too embarrassed to look at her the whole time, but neither could he bear to put her in some closet too far away.
Maybe…he could just hug her real quick, then put her back. Just for a little courage. He has to face Dazai, after all.
Slowly, he moves towards the drawer and, after a few moments of hesitation, opens it. He has the strange urge to look around, to make sure no one’s watching him. Nonetheless, his hand shoots out and grabs Lola, immediately squeezing her to his chest tightly.
When he tries to put her back, though, his limbs simply won’t listen to him; his arms won’t move.
Well, it seems like he has to take her with him. Can’t be helped. Turning back to the door, he starts to make his way out of the room, documents in one hand, Lola in the other; legs still feeling a little like jelly.
As soon as he’s reached the door to the dining room attached to the kitchen, where he knows Dazai went after coming back to the apartment, he stops.
Okay. He can do this. He just has to go in there and ask Dazai for help. Because he can’t do it. Because he’s useless and apparently can’t read anymore right now. Because Dazai just loves doing work, especially if he expected Chuuya to do it for him.
This. Is. Fine.
Squeezing Lola tightly once more, he slowly reaches for the doorknob.
When he opens the door, Dazai is, indeed, sitting at the table, looking bored out of his mind - as he always does - and staring at his phone. He's probably too lazy to move to the - much more comfortable, if Chuuya says so himself - couch about six meters away from him. As Chuuya enters, his gaze doesn’t even lift in the redhead’s direction.
“Why hello Chibi~ are you finally done with…your paperwork? You always take soo long, I don’t even know what you do the whole time, you slow slug~” he sings-songs, voice a little rough.
A surge of - misplaced - guilt rushes through him. It’s not like this was only his work, but no, he’s not done.
His breath hitches, which is enough for Dazai’s eyes to suddenly snap towards Chuuya.
His partner’s face morphs from blankness to mild surprise at seeing the distressed Chibi, tear-streaked face and everything. Then his gaze turns to the papers in Chuuya’s hand, eyebrows raising slightly.
Chuuya feels the desperate need to explain himself before mackerel even has the chance to open his mouth.
“Could’n…do ‘t” the smaller teen mumbles, guiltily. “Sorry…m’sorry” he adds on hastily, wiping his eyes with his sleeves, to no avail, only lightly creasing the documents in the process.
Frowning slightly, his partner puts down the phone, then stands up and takes the stack of papers out of Chuuya’s hand, eyes moving over the increasingly more messy writing, eventually turning to empty pages.
Chuuya doesn’t know what to do with himself now, so he just stands there a little awkwardly, lightly curling into himself and staring at his feet while rubbing his fingertips over Lola’s soft fur self-soothingly.
That doesn’t mean he can’t hear Dazai’s dramatic gasp in front of him after he’s apparently grasped the situation at hand. It draws his gaze upwards again.
His partner is exaggeratedly acting like he’s going to faint, holding his hand dramatically to his forehead.
“My, my, Chibi~ is this some evil plan to get me to do your work? If so, I fear I’ve been convinced~” he sighs.
When Chuuya just stares blankly at him, uncomprehending and lip still wobbling, he waves a hand dismissively, as if he was an actor and Chuuya nothing more than a particularly ignorant onlooker.
Then he pushes the documents back into the little one’s hands.
Chuuya freezes. Dazai doesn’t want to help him. But he can’t do this. He can’t. He tried. Dazai doesn’t seem to understand. Or maybe he does and just doesn’t care. He’s not the replaceable one out of their duo, after all. He doesn’t need to prove his usefulness to the organization.
Before any tears can start falling again, though, Dazai moves directly in front of him.
With his hands now free, mackerel grabs Chuuya under the armpits and picks him up, starting to move like that’s a normal thing to do.
Now that, he didn't expect.
Reflex-like, he latches his arms and legs around Dazai, letting go of Lola in the process. She hits the floor before he gets the chance to grab her again.
Dazai doesn’t seem to notice though, for he keeps walking in the direction of the living room.
Chuuya whimpers and opens his mouth to tell him, but his tongue feels all wrong and so heavy, he can’t seem to make it work the way he wants it to. Only unintelligible, choked up sound comes out. When he starts squirming, though, Dazai just grabs him tighter, holding him in place. He says something, but Chuuya can’t make out the words in his distress. Lola stays behind, lying on the cold floor.
Realizing that annoying his partner right now, while he still desperately needs his help, could be counterproductive, he stops his movements and shuts up as much as possible. Stopping the tears and the sniffling doesn’t entirely work, though he really gives it his best.
After what feels like an eternity - and also one between-stop as Dazai gets a pen and something else from a drawer - he finally sets the smaller teen down on the couch and straightens up again.
Once he looks at Chuuya for a few seconds, though, seemingly searching for something, his face morphs into a small frown. Without a word, he turns around and, in seconds, has disappeared into the corridor again.
Chuuya really tries to calm down, but no matter what, he can’t seem to catch his breath. The air just won’t make its way into his lungs like it’s supposed to. He’s so confused, Lola is gone and he can’t seem to stop crying.
Still, he stands up on wobbly legs and, stumbling more than walking, determinedly makes his way towards the kitchen, still sniffling. Even if he has the distinct feeling that this shouldn’t be his priority at the moment, he wants Lola back. She must be lonely.
Instead of turning around the corner as he initially planned, though, he bumps into something bony and…lanky. Stumbling back a few steps, the sudden movement makes the pain in his head worsen, leaving him a little dizzy. When he looks up, Dazai is standing in front of him, in his hands…Lola!
Before the tall teen can even open his mouth, Chuuya has already snatched the sloth out of his arms and presses her against his chest, mumbling apology after apology into her fur. He’s not even sure who he’s saying sorry to, Lola for leaving her behind on the cold floor, or Dazai for having to put up with this.
He’s pulled out of his haze by mackerel‘s overdramatic groan. ”Chibi~ why did I carry you all the way here just for you to run away the second I’m not looking? A tiny slug shouldn’t be so fast, you know~”
The only answer he receives is a confused and teary-eyed stare, which doesn’t stop him from repeating history and picking Chuuya up again.
“This time, you have to hold her real tight, so she won’t get lost again, alright~” He hums, walking back to the sofa, seemingly absolutely unbothered by any of this, with Chuuya safe in his arms.
This time, though, he plops down on the sofa, too, thereby setting the redhead in his lap. Tucking Chuuya’s face into the crook of his neck, he takes the pen in hand again and…starts to fill out the paperwork?
Oh.
A surge of gratitude fills Chuuya. Taking shaky breaths, he clings to Dazai’s shirt and slurs an almost unintelligible row of “thank you, th’nk you” and apologies into the soft material. Dazai is so warm.
Suddenly, he feels cruel for the things he just assumed about his partner, when it’s obviously him who’s the mean one here. He’s the bad one who can’t do his part of the job, dumping it all on Dazai. Dazai, who’s generous enough to do it for him, to help him.
He didn’t even punish Chuuya. Not a single word or hit. Not yet, at least. With the sheep, a situation like this - someone not holding up their end of the deal - probably would have ended more violently. And it’s not like the Port Mafia has a history of handling…any situation, really, peacefully.
It’s not like it matters, as long as Dazai doesn’t tell Mori, Chuuya can take it. Then he’d be in real trouble. He’d deserve it, anyway, but still.
Chuuya’s job is to serve his purpose and do what he’s told. Weapons aren’t supposed to cry their eyes out and cuddle with stuffed toys instead of working. That’s something for humans. For children. Chuuya isn’t a child. He’s not sure he ever was.
Mackerel doesn’t bother to answer his murmured half-sentences, moving one hand up to cup Chuuya’s head. The touch, painful on the already irritated skin of his scalp, makes him flinch away from it, forcing him to shakily inhale and bite his tongue until he tastes blood to suppress a pathetic sound like a whimper or something. He can’t stop the tears welling up in his eyes again, though.
The touch lets up immediately, and he feels Dazai tensing under him, straightening up a bit and stopping his writing.
“Chibi, did you hit your head on the mission?” He asks, probably aiming for a more nonchalant and light-hearted tone, but he misses by a few notes. Something else is audible under the facade, something more somber.
Chuuya hums, and lightly shakes his head no. He didn’t. Not on the mission, at least. And he knew it wasn’t bad, he had only hit his head once, and not even that hard. And a bit of pulling wasn’t even dangerous, so nothing to worry about.
Apparently unconvinced, Dazai pulls Chuuya’s head out of his little hiding place anyway, making him whine involuntarily at the light blending his eyes. It was so comfortable on mackerel’s shoulder.
“Hey tiny slug~ would you look at me with your slow eyes reaaal quick?”
Blinking at the harsh light, he moves his gaze up to Dazai’s face, now directly in front of him, a confused humming sound making its way out of his throat. Hands cup his face, his partner seems to be looking for something, staring at him intently.
While one hand keeps his face still, the other one lets go of him and moves away a little, snapping twice.
“Look here, slug~ can’t be that hard, even for you, right?”
Because his head is kept in place, Chuuya has no choice but to sluggishly move his eyes to focus on the index finger his partner is holding up, a few inches behind his head on the left side. Dazai is being mean, it’s easy!
Without any warning, the arm suddenly comes racing right in his direction, making him startle and reflexively let go of Dazai to throw his arms over his face to protect it. Maybe Dazai changed his mind, and now he really is mad. Maybe he had been the whole time and just didn’t want Chuuya to expect any punishment.
It takes him a few seconds to notice in his panic, but the impact of a punch never comes.
Hesitantly sneaking a glance at his partner from between his fingers does nothing to quell his confusion. The hand is completely gone from his line of sight, making Dazai’s face directly in front of him all the more noticeable. Inexpressive, maroon eyes stare into Chuuya’s, apparently waiting for something.
He doesn’t really know what mackerel wants him to do, so he just lets his arms sink from their protective stance slowly and drops them into his lap, a bit self-consciously. Even though the perceived threat is gone now, they won’t stop trembling.
Not that he couldn’t handle a little pain! He just didn’t expect it, is all.
It seems he has simply overreacted. It’s typical, really. Always so emotional, so quickly.
Dazai makes a thoughtful sound, tilting his head at Chuuya.
“Say, slug, what did you eat for lunch today?” He asks, completely out of the blue.
Well, that’s weird.
After staring blankly for a moment with Dazai looking at him expectantly, therefore coming to the conclusion that this is an actual question, the redhead starts thinking.
“Uhm…” he starts, “…cr’b…Crab!”
Apparently satisfied, Dazai smiles at him and nods. “Absolutely correct, Chibi! And why did we have crab today?”
“uhm…you? Mhmm…because of ‘samu!” Chuuya answers, almost getting a little excited at the prospect of getting it right and making Dazai happy. Maybe a happy Dazai will be more likely to forget about the inconvenience currently sitting in his lap. Chuuya’s hands have yet to stop shaking. Also, it’s true, mackerel refused to eat anything but canned crab today, so that’s what they had.
“Very good, Chibi~ for a slug like you, at least!” He sing-songs, leaning back, apparently done with the questions for now.
Chuuya doesn’t understand Dazai’s actions in the slightest, but he notices some of the tension draining out of his partner, which must be a good sign, he supposes.
”Well, good news for you~ the tiny Chibi is not concussed, isn’t that great? Normal reflexes, no memory gaps, everything perfect!”, he beams at the smaller teen, clapping his hands, but soon the beginning of a frown appears on his features once more. One of his hands moves back up to red hair, only lightly touching the skin this time, probably to check for any apparent injuries.
When he pulls back, the smile is mostly gone from his face. “It’s not a concussion, but that’s quite the bump you got yourself! Directly on the front at that…Ts, seems you ran straight into a wall. Did you hit your head at home?”
Shamefully, he nods. No use trying to lie to Dazai. Stupid hit didn’t even help any, and neither did the hair pulling, but now his head hurts and Dazai probably thinks of him as even more dumb than usual because obviously, he got it all wrong.
Dazai tsks disapprovingly, but at least he’s not touching Chuuya’s head anymore, so he has to suppress a breath of relief. He chooses to fiddle with Lola, still in his arms, instead.
“My, my, Chibi, I didn’t know you were so clumsy~”, he declares, though something must show on Chuuya’s face because his partner falters for a few seconds. “…One could think there isn’t even enough impact for it to hurt, you know, because you’re so slow!”
With that, he falls silent, eyeing the redhead for a few moments, gears obviously turning in his head and finally coming to some kind of conclusion.
“Hmm, say, Chibi, you didn’t hit your head by accident, did you?”
Still wordlessly, Chuuya shakes his head as vehemently as he can manage right now. Of course not. He’s not that dumb. He just tested a theory that had - sometimes - proved to be efficient before.
Dazai’s eyebrows furrow at that. “Really, and why would you do that, tiny slug?”
To get out of this headspace because it’s preventing him from doing his work and therefore proving his worth to the port mafia because unlike Dazai he’s basically an irrelevant factor in this equation because he could never be as intelligent or brilliant or strategic as someone with blood as black as the mafia itself because in the end he’ll always be the stupid street kid, barely good for anything but violence, a weapon to be used to one’s liking. His brute force is replaceable. He is replaceable.
At least, that’s what he would say if he was able to fluently articulate himself at the moment and also in the regular habit of being honest with himself and others. Neither of which is the case right now.
He still has to answer, though, so what he says softly instead, is “…had to…tried…t’ be big…“ he hesitates. “…for work.”
For a few seconds, mackerel doesn’t say anything, only stares at Chuuya silently. Isn’t he happy? Chuuya had tried to make it easier for him, do the work himself. Just when he starts wondering if his partner may have gotten really angry really quickly, Dazai opens his mouth again.
“You…tried to get out of your headspace, which is supposed to be helpful and stress-reducing, to do something, well, stress-inducing, by getting hurt?”
That’s one way to put it - even if it had sounded a bit better in his head - so Chuuya nods. His tongue feels too heavy to move, and Dazai hadn’t yet complained about any of his one-sided conversations.
Something flashes across the taller teen’s face for half a second, then returns to careful blankness once more. “But, Chibi dear, you don’t…do that. Regressing is meant to be a, a nice thing. You don’t appreciate it when I get hurt either, do you?”
Chuuya isn’t in the right mind to completely grasp the whole picture of Dazai’s self-harm, but he roughly understands that his partner sometimes hurts himself, and he doesn’t like it one bit. Always makes him feel a little sick to his stomach to think about, because this is Dazai, who normally hates pain and who is physically about as strong as a twig.
So, no, he doesn’t appreciate it in the least.
But this is different. This is simply about productivity and efficiency. It’s like drinking cold coffee or something. Waking up to your blaring alarm each morning. Going to the doctor. Nobody likes that, but it’s a necessary evil.
So he shakes his head and grips Dazai’s shirt once more, careful not to be too rough with any of the bandages covering the teen. “No, no…s’differ’nt!” he urges - to the best of his currently limited abilities. “…‘s for…for work…” he insists.
When he finishes his half-sentences, his partner has gone back to staring at him for some time, likely contemplating something and deciding that this isn’t a debate he’s willing to have right now.
“Next time, Chibi, you’ll just come to me, hmm? Then I’ll do this itsy bitsy bit of paperwork so you won’t have to~” Dazai stops to clear his throat. “I heard dogs need a lot of sleep, anyway, and because I’m a generous owner after all, I will of course make sure you don’t get grumpy or something because you’re tired!”
Chuuya, who doesn’t quite believe him, squints at his partner dubiously. This doesn’t sound right.
“Don’t look at me like that, slug, I am a capable human being! Now go to sleep so I can do this pesky paperwork already~” with that, he touches Chuuya’s back - not his head this time! - and unceremoniously pushes him into the crook of Dazai’s neck, leaning over the smaller teen and taking his pen back in hand.
Liking the comfortable little hiding place, Chuuya closes his eyes and mumbles another timid “thank you” into Dazai’s neck. Everything is okay. Dazai is going to help him.
Now that the stress is gradually letting up, he can feel the fatigue coming back and drowsiness taking over. There’s no light blending him here and he’s comfy and he has Lola and Dazai’s so warm. Almost unnaturally so. But this isn’t something he’s able to concern himself with right now.
Basically cuddling his partner, soothed by his stuffie and the background noise of the pen scribbling on paper, he slowly dozes off.
When he becomes at least half aware again, with no intention of getting up, though, he can hear Dazai talking on the phone with someone, and can’t help but tense.
His voice doesn’t sound so nice anymore. Not at all. Instead, the tone is rather cold and monotone. Seemingly noticing the redhead being uncomfortable, one of Dazai’s hands starts rubbing his back soothingly. “Not to worry, Chibi, just getting someone to come here and deliver all your hard work to Mori!” The quiet voice is urging him back to sleep.
Before he can fully do that, mackerel suddenly starts moving. Not giving him any chance to protest, Chuuya is lifted up slightly and set back down again almost immediately, but on the couch instead of Dazai’s lap this time.
Oh. Seems like Dazai’s patience is all used up for today.
But, seeing as this had already been really nice and way more than he deserved, Chuuya suppresses the whine building in his throat and just curls tightly into himself to try and go back to sleep. Doesn’t stretch his luck. It has to be late by now, anyway. No use getting up.
He doesn’t know how long he spends like this - an hour maybe, or just half a minute - but he’s almost asleep again when there’s movement again. Something’s rustling beside him, so he blearily tries to open his eyes.
Dazai is back!
Without a warning, he’s lifted up once more, dead weight in mackerel’s arms. This time, though, he’s allowed to cuddle again! Unconsciously squeezing himself closer, he makes himself comfortable back in Dazai’s embrace.
Still so tired, he decides to stay where he is and, well, sleep.
It seems the world is not on his side today, because right as he’s on the edge of unconsciousness, his rest is disturbed again.
Catching him entirely off guard, a hand pulls at his fingers that…had sneaked into his mouth at some point? There it is, the familiar sensation of the Déjà-vu.
He doesn’t whine exactly, his breath just hitches involuntarily, though he gets cut off by something else prodding at his lips that’s definitely not his fingers. Too confused to do much of anything, he lets it slip into his mouth and stay there. It’s a bit of a strange feeling; not bad, though, so he tolerates it.
After some time, the sensation changes from odd to soothing; sucking on the thing doesn’t feel as icky as his fingers do, especially now that they won’t hurt from being so sore.
That’s nice.
Content, he resumes his original activity: napping on Dazai.
In minutes, he’s out like a light.
The next time he comes to, there’s light shining through the windows and, surprisingly, he does still feel small. At first, he’s not sure what woke him up, though he soon makes out the source of his discomfort. Unnatural heat is radiating from Dazai’s body.
Still blinking himself awake, he ungracefully starts to sit up and brings some distance between himself and his partner by crawling off his lap and moving to the other end of the couch, rubbing his eyes, when he notices something.
There’s something in his mouth. Ripping it out of his mouth, something silicone lays in his hand. That’s a…pacifier? Embarrassment surges through him, burning like iron and making his face heat up. He may be small and a little fuzzy around the edges, but he’s not a literal baby. Pacifiers are for babies. And only for them. At least he thinks so, he doesn’t actually know a whole lot about the different stages of children’s development. How surprising.
Quickly, he discards the pacifier on the wooden table and turns back to the situation at hand.
Now that his eyes are used to the light again, he can make out Dazai‘s slumped form on the couch. Head mostly leaning against the wall behind him, still in a sitting position, still in his daytime clothes, still in his bandages from the day before.
There are multiple things wrong with this picture.
Dazai is burning up. Which is speaking for itself.
Dazai is sleeping. Mackerel doesn’t sleep often, especially not by accident, sitting on the couch.
Also, Dazai wasn’t just sleeping. He is still sleeping. Like, right at this moment. Usually such a light sleeper, he didn’t even stir at any of Chuuya’s movements. Someone bustling about next to him and quite literally on his lap should have woken him up immediately.
“…’samu…” he tries, experimentally. No reaction. It leaves only one obvious conclusion.
Mackerel is sick.
Well, damn.