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You would never hear the words come out of his mouth willingly, but Chuuya was glad Dazai was his partner.
Of course, it was sort of his fault they were in such a bad position as to force him to activate Corruption in the first place, but who was really keeping track? (As Dazai would say.)
Unfortunately, the brunette’s ability couldn’t also take his pain away, so that’s why he was stuck here, alone at a mafia-paid (under the table, obviously) hospital on a perfectly good Saturday morning. One of the only days he had off, and he spent it on bed rest! He swears the next time he sees that beanpole, he’d kill him for allowing Corruption to go on for so long.
Chuuya sighs. Well, there was nothing to do about it now… He supposes he could read a book or watch something on the (very expensive) flat-screen TV, enjoying the rare moment of tranquility.
Little did he know, his peace and quiet was about to be interrupted.
(Chuuya really wanted it back, for the record.)
In the most chaotic of ways.
(No, seriously!)
“CHUUYA!” Albatross barges in. “I’ve come to make your life less miserable!”
Accustomed as he is to the blonde’s loudness, Chuuya’s proud to say he doesn’t flinch. Instead, he turns an incredulous stare toward the other.
“What do you think you’re doing?! This is a hospital!” He whisper-yells. “This isn’t some club where you can just hoot and holler to your heart’s content! Most people in here actually need the quiet!”
“Oh, would you relax?” Albatross waves him off. “This hospital is mafia-affiliated. It’s not like they’ll ban me.”
“No, but they could still kick you out for being disruptive. In fact, I wish they would.”
“That hurts, Chuuya,” the blonde says dramatically, clutching his chest. “Your words wound me. Maybe I shouldn’t give you my present after all.”
Chuuya perks up, though he tries to suppress it. “What present?” He eyes the way his friend has his other arm held behind his back as if to hide something. “Knowing you… is it a bomb?”
“Nope!” The other sings, “Guess again~!”
“A gun that you’re going to shoot me with to put me out of my misery?”
“Why are all your guesses so negative?” Albatross pouts. “I’m not that mean! You’re still on bed rest.”
“You forgot me on a mission,” Chuuya air quotes, “And made me swim back home,” he finishes in utter deadpan.
“Right… well, the past is the past,” the blonde dismisses. “Anyway, I brought you cookies!” He then brings his other arm out to show the redhead a container of neatly-wrapped cookies. They looked soft and delectable… and definitely not Albatross’ handiwork. Neither the cookies themselves nor the container they came in.
“Thanks,” Chuuya says, because he wasn’t going to bite the hand that feeds. Even if the blonde deserved it. “Where’d you get them?” He tries for nonchalant, ignoring the warmth in his chest from the nice gesture. Though Albatross didn’t make them himself, going out of his way to grab them and then deliver them to him was appreciated.
“What do you mean? I made them!”
“No way they let you in the kitchen,” Chuuya says skeptically.
“I don’t need permission to use my kitchen.” Albatross looks at him exasperated.
“…is it still standing?”
“Yes,” A smooth voice interjects. From the doorway, Lippmann appears in all his fancy glory. “Your apartment would’ve told you about a fire in your building if I let him do it. He was just… supervising.”
“Fuck both of you guys!”
Both of them ignore Albatross’ whining as Chuuya unwraps one of the cookies and bites into it.
“How are they?” Lippmann watches him with a smile.
“They’re perfect. Like always.” He would compliment him more if he didn’t think that it would get to Lippmann’s ego. Kami knows the man didn’t need it to get any bigger than it already was. “Have you had some?” Chuuya holds one out for him.
Lippmann takes it, then gracefully pulls one of the chairs over so he could take a seat beside the bed. “So how are you feeling?”
Meanwhile, Albatross huffs, but joins them anyway, taking a cookie for himself. Chuuya tries to slap his hand away when he reaches into the container, but the other is too fast. The redhead could only snort at his friend’s victorious grin.
“I’m fine. Nothing I can’t handle. It’s not the first time it’s happened,” Chuuya responds. “How are you guys? No one died while I was out, right?”
“It’s been less than 24 hours,” Albatross points out.
“And you have zero impulse control.”
Before they can start arguing again, there’s a soft breath of laughter from the older blonde. “Oh, plenty of people died after we found the state you were in,” Lippmann announces casually, like he was just talking about the weather and not human lives, “If you’re talking about us, though, no.”
“Mm.”
“I believe the others will be by soon. In fact, Doc was the one to treat you, so I’m sure he’d have stopped by to check on you if we hadn’t come,” Lippmann clarifies further. “From what I understand, he was called away for an emergency surgery that went pretty late, so he’s probably just sleeping it off.”
The warmth in his chest spreads further, which Chuuya stubbornly ignores. “I wasn’t— it’s not like I’m expecting—”
He’s interrupted by the door, once again, sliding open. “Ah, you’re awake.”
“Well, speak of the devil! Hey, Doc!” Albatross greets enthusiastically.
“Heh. Should’ve known one of you would beat me to it,” Doc grins, then, teasingly, “You better not be bothering my patient.” He drags his drip stand over and scans through Chuuya’s vitals. Deeming them to be fine, he sits down with a tired sigh.
Despite being the one in the hospital bed, Chuuya is immediately in worry mode. “Are you ok, Doc? You should’ve slept a bit more! I’ll still be here, you know.”
The man just waves a hand. “Got used to nights of little sleep back in residency, so once I’m awake, I’m awake. But you’re right - you’re not going anywhere.” His grin turns sharp. “I gotta release you first.”
Suddenly, a sense of dread creeps up Chuuya’s spine. “Isn’t there a rule that says doctors shouldn’t be in charge of their friend’s treatment?”
“Conflict of interest?” Lippmann smirks.
“It’s not a hard and fast rule; for example, matters of emergency are exempt. It’s just an ethically questionable move,” Doc refutes. The grin stays sharp. “And I’m sure we’re all aware of where I stand on ethics.”
Albatross guffaws. “Have fun staying here forever, Chuuya!”
The redhead just groans amidst his friends’ laughter. “You can’t do this to me, Doc! I’ll go insane in here!”
A short while later, the three are informing Chuuya of a new mission from the boss when the window is forced open. Iceman slides in as casual as can be even though Chuuya’s room, as a Port Mafia member and friend of Doc’s, was on the top floor. Of a hospital that was several stories high.
“Couldn’t just come in the normal way, huh?” Doc badgers the assassin, though it’s not disapproving. Unsurprisingly, he lets a lot of… questionable things slide.
“Force of habit,” is the flimsy excuse. He does a quick once-over of their youngest member. “I see you’re doing fine.”
“Yeah,” Chuuya smiles. “Thanks for coming, though.”
“Hmph. I would’ve come sooner, but I just got back from a mission.” With his occupation, ‘mission’ could only mean one thing. “Didn’t expect you all to still be here. We throwing a party or something?”
Everyone freezes.
Then, “That’s a great idea!” Albatross is already moving, presumably to get some booze. Whatever it was, it was going to be chaotic.
“Now, hold on—” Knowing how all of Albatross’ ideas tend to be (and how they turn out), Lippmann valiantly tries to stop him. When no one comes to his aid, he looks at Doc helplessly. “Shouldn’t you be concerned about this?”
Doc looks to be contemplating it for all of a second, then shrugs. “Nah. I could use some alcohol myself.”
Lippmann turns to Iceman, but he conveniently looks out the window. The subtle tug of a smile on his lips doesn’t escape the actor.
“You can bring alcohol in here?” Chuuya wonders aloud.
“Oh, there’s plenty of alcohol just down the hall in the storage closet. Can’t imagine it’ll taste good, though.” Doc informs unhelpfully.
Lippmann just sighs, exasperated. He’s not going to win this one. Is no one concerned about propriety? If Piano Man were here, maybe he’d have backup - or he would enable them, which was equally as likely.
On second thought, maybe it was better their de facto leader wasn’t present.
Fortunately for Lippmann, the ‘party’ was significantly more toned-down than most of Albatross’ usual parties. Small mercies.
The blonde returned with three bottles of vintage wine (when asked how he smuggled them in, he mimed putting them under his shirt - no one questioned him on it nor where he even got wine so expensive) and some card games. He had briefly contemplated getting a pool table delivered to Chuuya’s room, but sadly announced that it would be a logistical nightmare.
Again, small mercies.
Doc found some glasses in the staff room and, pretty soon, the alcohol was flowing. Their game of Bullshit was getting pretty heated (as was usual for them, it didn’t matter what game they were playing) when the door opened again.
It could only be one person.
And, sure enough, Piano Man appears in the doorway.
“Wow, getting started already, are we?” He frowns, closing the door behind him. “You couldn’t have waited for me, your fearless leader?”
”You’re late,” Iceman responds flatly. It was said in such a no-nonsense tone that Chuuya couldn’t help but laugh. The sky was blue, grass was green, and Piano Man was late. It surely grated on a man as perfectionist as him.
“I didn’t realize we had agreed on a time! Or that we would come at all,” Piano Man defends himself in something close to a whine. But that couldn’t be right, could it? “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have started working on those damn supernotes.”
For their leader, they sure gave him a lot of shit.
”Whatever, you’re here now… and perfect timing too!” Albatross interrupts brightly. “I was getting bored of Lippmann the human lie detector,” he punctuates with a glare toward said blonde, who only smiles innocently as if to say ‘who, me?’ that earns him an annoyed huff, “—winning every round. So I say we play a different game!”
Chuuya puts his cards down, agreeing instantly. He hated losing. “What game?”
“I’m glad you asked,” Albatross rubs his hands together mischievously. “Let’s play… spoons!”
“Hm… And did you happen to bring any spoons with you?” Piano Man questions dryly.
”Well. Not exactly—”
“There should be spoons in the staff room—” Before Doc can stand, Albatross grabs his arm.
“Why don’t we make it interesting?” When everyone only stares at him, curious, he grins triumphantly. “Instead of spoons, we’ll use our weapons. I know you all brought something.”
Piano Man’s smile turns cutting. “Excellent idea.” He takes out a pocket knife and puts it in the middle of the bed, perfectly equidistant from everyone.
The rest of the group follows suit. Albatross’ kukri joins the pile. Then, a syringe. A razor blade from Iceman. It’s followed by a comb - wait.
“That’s not a weapon,” Albatross criticizes.
“Anything can be a weapon,” Iceman justifies even though he wasn’t the one to add it.
“My beauty is my weapon.”
Doc snorts. “Suppose that counts.”
Finally, it’s Chuuya’s turn. They all stare at him expectantly. He looks around the room, knowing he doesn’t have anything on him. He normally doesn’t, since he relies on his ability and strength alone. And, besides that, they probably took anything remotely dangerous from him when he’d been admitted. “Uh.”
“Don’t worry, you don’t need to add anything, Chuuya,” Lippmann assures. “There’s meant to be one less spoon than the amount of people playing. That way, someone actually gets eliminated every round.”
“We just wanted to watch you squirm,” Piano Man adds.
“...You all suck.”
“Alright, now that’s all settled,” Albatross’ grin turns shark-like. “Game on!”
“Hey! I had it first!”
“You touched it first. But it’s in my hand, so it’s mine now.”
“Lippmann, you’re bleeding…”
“Shit!”
For the last time, the door opened once more, announcing the presence of a frustrated nurse. Everyone’s head snaps in her direction.
“Just what do you all think you’re doing?” She had her arms crossed as she admirably stared down the group of mafia elite. “Chuuya-kun is supposed to be resting! And you’re disturbing all the other patients!”
“Ah—“ Lippmann immediately stands up and puts on his award-winning smile. “I apologize. My companions and I just wanted to cheer Chuuya up a little and didn’t realize how loud we’d gotten. We’ll make sure to be less… disruptive.”
It works. Or at least, it would have if the nurse was a little less observant. Or if they had been a little more discrete.
The intimidating woman was just about to leave, casting them a suspicious glance, when she spied the empty alcohol bottles, the clearly-drunken state of all of them, the abundance of weapons carelessly strewn around (on the patient's bed, for Kami’s sake), and the distinct signs of a tussle.
Her eye twitched.
“All of you, out!” They scramble to obey, not even acknowledging their mess. “And you,” she says, pointing at Doc.
“Me?” The man says nervously, hands in the air in surrender.
“Why would you let them do this? You should be more responsible.” She sighs, “Anyway, I was looking for you. There’s a code purple in labor and delivery. A doctor is already there, but he’s having issues, so they’d like you there for support.”
With that, she doesn’t waste anymore time and strides out, muttering “Unbelievable. I can’t believe he was here the whole time!” under her breath.
An awkward silence ensues where everyone just stares at each other (Chuuya is wide-eyed), wondering why the hell they just let a civilian woman - intimidating though she may be - scold them like that.
Finally, Piano Man speaks. “Well, you heard the woman. Let’s go,” he says, and everyone follows his lead. “We’ll see you later, Chuuya.”
“Sorry, Chuuya, duty calls!” Doc excuses, swiftly leaving the room.
“Come find us at Old World as soon as you get out, you hear?” Albatross waves.
“Just get some sleep for now,” Lippmann lectures.
Iceman just nods at him in solidarity, to which Chuuya nods back.
They all file out. In less than a minute, the redhead is alone again. He doesn’t feel it, though; in fact, his heart feels full. While his friends had left, their presence (and care, evident in the way they spent time with him today even if they didn’t have to, and, actually, were probably skipping work in order to do so) remains.
When he falls asleep, it’s with a smile on his face.
The blanket is overkill - he’s plenty warm.