Work Text:
Cosset
/ˈkäsət/
verb
to care for or pamper excessively; to treat with indulgent tenderness
"all her life she'd been cosseted by her family"
+++
Dazai’s injuries were healing slowly. The neck brace had been removed after a few days, though the skin was immediately covered in a fresh layer of bandages. In the moments he had seen the man’s neck, Kunikida noted red lines and irritated skin; he had probably been scratching, somehow. It was irritating – if he had been in pain, he could have asked for help rather than risking injury – but he kept his mouth shut.
The bruise had disappeared as well, though there was a thin scab on Dazai’s forehead from where the corner of the doorframe had been slammed. It no longer seemed to bother him much, though Kunikida often had to remind him not to touch it. That’s how scars are formed!
His concussion, though, would persist for a few weeks. His speech was more consistent, and his coordination was getting better, but he still wasn’t at a point where Kunikida felt comfortable leaving him alone. Yosano didn’t comment on this, and Dazai had not yet complained, so they were still staying together.
Despite his injuries, Dazai looked healthier than usual. It was something the man himself noticed one day as he was getting into his shower. Kunikida’s shower – not his. The water was warm and ready, and when he was undressing, he caught a glance of himself in the mirror.
His hair was not shiny and oily as it usually was right before a shower, because Kunikida insisted he shower at least every two days. Without the addition of dark circles, his eyes looked brighter, if not maybe a little far away. With that thought, he stepped into the shower, hoping the steam would somehow ease his aching head. He had unwrapped all of his bandages – because if he didn’t, Kunikida would know, and he didn’t feel like getting lectured. As he looked down, he realized his ribs were less visible, likely a result of the filling meals his lovely partner shoved down his throat thrice a day.
He placed a hand on his stomach, pinching slightly at the now rosy skin. A small frown pulled at his lips, and he was unsure of how he should feel. It was strange, walking around without the constant feeling of hunger, a dull ache that he barely noticed after years of undereating.
Kunikida never served Dazai as much food as he served himself, and for that he was grateful. On any normal day, he’d be able to excuse a full plate with a myriad of distractions and annoyances. But his partner was no longer so easily fooled, and his brain was often too foggy to think of something quick. He knew it was something they would discuss, one day, but for now he was relieved it wouldn’t be any time soon.
Water trickled down his skin, warm and comforting, washing away every speck of dirt. He just stood there for a while, not wanting any part of his body to be exposed to the cool air surrounding him. At least the warmth of the water covered the wanting that had been revealed by his full stomach. Something was missing, a feeling that had gone unnoticed for years, disguised as something like hunger or thirst.
It left the man cold and nauseous, and he had to remove his hand from his stomach, unable to touch or feel or acknowledge his body any longer.
When he finally stepped out of the shower, the cold was immediate and devastating. He was quick to wrap a towel around himself, blocking out the assault.
The bandages provided a faux-warmth, and he knew it wasn’t enough. At least this way, he didn’t feel so exposed.
+++
“I’m back, Dazai.” Kunikida’s voice was gentler nowadays, always considerate of the pain loud noises caused his partner.
He felt so incredibly selfish. When faced with this sort of kindness, Dazai was able to twist it, provoke Kunikida enough that his gentle tone became aggressive in a way that felt normal. It was what he deserved, he knew it. Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to poke and prod in the way he should, having been exposed to the sound of affection for far too long.
“How was your day?” It was a stupid question – they both knew Dazai couldn’t do anything.
“Fantastically boring. Though, the time passed a little faster when I thought about you, Kunikida-kun~!” Dazai’s tone was light and teasing, and he reveled in the red that stained Kunikida’s cheeks. The man hesitated for a moment, his hand twitching at his side, and then he turned away.
“Atsushi says he’ll stop by tomorrow during his lunch break to keep you company for a bit.” He said, walking over to the kitchen. Dazai trailed behind him, and Kunikida wasted no time starting their dinner. “How does crab shabu-shabu sound?” He asked, already pulling out some of the ingredients.
It was thoughtful – far beyond anything Dazai deserved. He wasn’t even sure Kunikida liked crab all that much.
“Sounds perfect. You should teach me how to make it!” Dazai said, moving so that he was directly in front of Kunikida. There was a sort of warmth that radiated off the man, and resisting the urge the move into was like a slow torture. Perhaps that’s why he stayed so close.
“Hell no.” Kunikida said firmly, moving Dazai out of the way so he could reach the stove. He tensed up slightly at the touch. “Why don’t you just go sit on the couch until the food is ready?”
Dazai nodded slowly, moving to the couch without saying much.
‘What the hell was that?’ Ridiculous was what it was. He was acting like a pathetic teenager – no, a child. It came out of nowhere. Usually, he had no reaction to something as simple as touch. He was used to it – being choked, hit, kicked (having CPR performed on him), they were all things he was used to, things he often found bliss in.
Perhaps it was the gentleness of the touch. His mind drifted back to that first night, how soft the press of Kunikida’s lips had been against the top of his head.
He wanted to feel it again. It was a sudden and burning desire, one that caused the ache to grow and his nausea to worsen.
“The food is ready!” The voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked over to a gesturing Kunikida. Dinner looked amazing.
Dazai no longer had the stomach for it.
“Kunikida-kun… can’t we eat on the couch? I can’t stand!” He allowed a dramatic tone to overtake his voice, hoping that if he was difficult enough he could get out of the meal. Kunikida would never allow them to eat on the couch – it would be far too messy.
“Okay.”
Huh?
“Just try not to spill anything… You’ll owe me if you do.” They both knew the last part was an empty threat. Dazai never repaid his debts.
Even so, really? Just like that? Kunikida had already sat beside the man, placing a bowl onto his lap. It was warm, but nothing compared to the burning he felt when his partner sat a little too close.
He wanted nothing more than to crawl inside him, to hold on tight and never let go, to be held and loved and cosseted. It was too much, and the solution was so easy, but it was a selfish desire.
Placing his bowl down on the coffee table, he quickly stood, already walking out of the room.
“Sorry Kunikida-kun!” Was all he offered, his cheery voice so obviously fake.
+++
It was about ten minutes later that Kunikida entered the bedroom. The lights were low, and Dazai was sprawled across the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The weight shifted beside him, and he had to resist the urge to move when he felt the burning emitting from his partner’s body.
“How is your head feeling?” Kunikida was searching, trying to understand what had caused Dazai’s reaction. Smart man – he knew he’d never get an answer if he asked directly.
“Fine.” Problem was, he wouldn’t get an answer this way either.
“Your stomach, then?”
“Fine.”
Kunikida was understanding the situation quickly, and he had no patience for it. He placed one of his hands on Dazai’s arms, and the man’s attention snapped to that location, his eyes glued to the fingers lightly squeezing his skin.
“Dazai. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s bothering you. So please, just tell me what’s wrong?” He was trying to keep his tone steady, but Dazai could hear the annoyance seeping into it. His reply was low, and his eyes never left Kunikida’s hand.
“You’ve already done plenty, Kunikida-kun. Too much, really.” It was a bitter response. A man like him didn’t deserve Kunikida’s coddling, he didn’t need it, and he had indulged in it for far too long. He knew all this, and yet he still did not pull his arm away. Kunikida’s eyes followed his, and perhaps he was beginning to understand.
His hand trembled slightly as he moved it slowly, stopping at the juncture between Dazai’s neck and shoulders. He traced the area lightly with his finger, and his partner shivered at the touch. It was only when Kunikida spoke again that the tremble had been a result of his emotions, and tears had finally escaped.
“I want you to be honest with me,” His voice was as shaky as his hand, and guilt began gnawing at the inside of Dazai’s stomach, “Please, Dazai; let me take care of you. Have I not been able to show you that it isn’t a burden? Anything you need, I just- I don’t like seeing you like this. If I can do anything to make it better, I will.”
Dazai knew the answer. Of course he did, he had known for a while. But he knew it would cause too much damage – it would spark emotions that were unfair to his partner. His work partner. Kunikida didn’t know what he was truly asking of the man, for if he did, he would surely leave.
“...It’s too much to ask.” His voice was distant, and he raised himself from his position on Kunikida’s bed, pulling away from his shaking hand. Dazai tried not to look at the man, because he knew his heart would break at the sight of his face. A hand reached out, encircling Dazai’s wrist.
“It isn’t.” His voice was so firm that Dazai couldn’t help but turn. Kunikida’s eyes shone, puffy and red, but he couldn’t find sadness. It was affection, genuine care. He almost dared to call it love.
The hunger, the ache, it was too much. In a moment of weakness, Dazai fell forward, wrapping his arms around Kunikida as tight as he possibly could. It was the worst feeling in the world – as if he was on fire, everything was burning, he wanted to run away.
But how could he run from something so wonderful? There was no ache – the only thing troubling him was the inevitable truth that this feeling would end. He felt warm and raw, but he had never expected something like that to feel so good. He wanted more, for the warmth to seep into his very being so that he would never be cold again.
It was illogical and selfish.
“I love you, Osamu.” It came out of the blue, accompanied by the return of his touch. Dazai searched for any hint of a lie, but found only the genuine truth. His heart soared, but his partner panicked, only now realizing the weight of his words. “I’m sorry, that was completely uncalled for. You are clearly vulnerable right now, and I was taking advantage of it–” He said quickly, moving to pull away.
Now that Dazai knew that the only discomfort was for his sake, he just gripped tighter.
“Kunikida.” The man stopped his rambling, as well as his attempts to pull away.
His arms slowly wrapped around Dazai, pulling them down onto the bed.
It was a sort of comfort that was foreign to Dazai. It was not unlikeable – the opposite, really – but so unusual that it was as if his body wasn’t sure how to react. He sunk into the touch, allowing the warmth of someone he loved to seep into his body, for the gentle press of lips against his forehead to ease the aching, and for a feeling of content to lull him to sleep.