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Chuuya yawned, stretching as he waited for his coffee to cool. He pulled out his phone, opening his email to reread the details of their new mission.
It was out of town, so they’d have to stay the night at a hotel, but it looked like it would be easy enough.
The worst part would be having to share a room with Dazai.
They may already be roommates— per the Boss’s orders— but at least they usually had their own bedrooms.
Speaking of the bastard, he would’ve gotten the email at the same time Chuuya had, so he should be up by now.
Chuuya clicked his tongue. One of the many downsides of their living arrangements was that it had somehow become his responsibility to get Dazai up in the mornings.
Dazai hadn’t made it home by the time Chuuya went to bed last night, so he wasn’t even sure if he was in their apartment.
He knocked on Dazai’s bedroom door. “Oi, Dazai. You up?” When he got no response, he let himself in, approaching the lump on the bed. He kicked at the edge of the futon. “Get up, bastard. We’ve got a mission.”
Dazai groaned, and the sound made Chuuya’s brow furrow. He sounded hoarse— like his throat was torn up.
“Oi.” He gave the mattress another light kick. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing,” came the reply, muffled into his blanket.
Chuuya scoffed, crossing his arms. “Really? Because you sound fucked up.”
“Must’ve been my date with the porcelain goddess last night.” Dazai lilted, burrowing further into his blankets.
Chuuya paused. “You were sick last night?”
“Mmm,” was Dazai’s only response.
“Don’t ‘mmm’ me, dumbass. Did you take something? I swear, if this is another one of your suicide stunts…” Chuuya crouched down next to the head of messy brown curls that was protruding from the blankets. He tried to pull them away from Dazai’s head so he could get a look at his face, but Dazai had an iron grip on them.
“Chuuya’s so mean to me,” he whined before dramatically throwing off the blankets himself. “I’m fine. It was probably just a fluke.”
Chuuya took in the flushed, pale face staring back at him, and before his partner could object, he had a palm slapped onto Dazai’s forehead. He ignored the indignant croak of protest as he straightened.
“Right, and that would also explain that fever you’re running.” Chuuya rolled his eyes. “Give it up, Shitty Dazai. You’re obviously sick.”
“Yes, sick of you disturbing my beauty sleep.” Dazai blew a raspberry.
What a child.
“Well, clearly, you need as much as you can get, because you look like something the cat dragged in.” Chuuya kicked the futon again. “I came to wake you up for the mission, but, by the looks of it, you’re not going anywhere except back to sleep.”
Chuuya could practically see Dazai’s ears perk up.
“Mission? What mission?” Dazai started searching around for his phone.
“The one that Boss emailed us about an hour ago.”
Dazai finally managed to locate his phone amidst the mess of his bed, and opened his email. He quickly scanned the contents, a plan already forming in that too-smart brain of his.
“Before you go back to sleep, tell the Boss you’re out sick.” Chuuya started towards the door. He had to pack a bag so that he’d be ready to catch his train in a few hours.
“I'm not calling out.”
Chuuya stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “Well, you’re sure as hell not coming with me.”
“Of course I am.” Dazai threw off his blankets and started to push himself upright with shaky arms. “I would never leave my partner to deal with this all by himself!”
“Oi, oi, hold on a second.” Chuuya took a step towards him. “You’re gonna-“
What little color Dazai had drained from his face and his legs gave out from under him. Chuuya rushed forward, catching him by the underarms and carefully lowering him to sit back down on the bed. He was breathing heavily, as if that exertion alone had been too much for him.
“You’re an idiot, y’know that?” Chuuya muttered gruffly, cringing as he felt the unnatural heat that was radiating off of his partner. Dazai raised an arm to cough into and Chuuya roughly patted his back. “This is exactly why you’re not going.”
Dazai shook his head, closing his eyes as he swallowed roughly. “Chuuya needs me for this one.”
That made Chuuya pause. Dazai wasn’t usually this earnest, which either meant he was sicker than Chuuya thought, or that he’d already foreseen something that Chuuya hadn’t.
“How the hell are you gonna help? You can barely stand.” Chuuya took in the clamminess of Dazai’s skin, the tremors caused by weakness. “Just stay here and rest, Dazai. I can handle it.”
Dazai wore a rare expression of frustration, but didn’t fight it as he was pushed to lie back down on the bed. He probably couldn’t.
“Have you taken anything for that fever?” Chuuya threw the blankets over Dazai’s shivering form.
Dazai nailed him with a pointed look. “No, it would’ve come right back up.”
“Right.” Chuuya grimaced. “I’ll be right back.”
He hurried to the kitchen to grab a few bottles of water and the first aid kit. By the time he made it back to Dazai’s bedroom, the patient in question was sitting in front of his dresser— packing, by the looks of it.
“Oi, shithead!” Chuuya barked. “Get back in bed before I tie you to it.”
“Ooh, is Chuuya into bondage?” Dazai waggled his eyebrows, though his weak voice failed to carry the teasing tone.
“Dazai,” Chuuya warned. He didn’t have time for this. He was trying to get Dazai set up for the next couple of days before he had to leave, which was more than the bastard deserved. Goodness knows he didn’t trust his partner to take care of himself.
Dazai’s face went flat, eyes glinting with something indiscernible— or maybe that was just the fever. “You can’t stop me from going.”
Chuuya threw his hands up in exasperation. “For crying out loud, Dazai! You slack on the job enough as it is, but now that you have a legitimate excuse, you refuse to take it?” He huffed, snatching a bottle of fever reducers and a cooling patch from the first aid kit. “I can handle myself. Just take some meds and enjoy the day off.”
Dazai fumbled to catch the items that Chuuya tossed him, then scowled menacingly at him.
Chuuya was never intimidated by Dazai, but Dazai looked so pathetic right now that he wouldn’t even scare a kitten.
“Rest up, bastard,” he called over his shoulder as he left the room. He could feel Dazai glaring daggers at his back, but he didn’t care.
Let the patient sulk. Chuuya had a mission to prepare for.
◦☽𖤓☾◦
Chuuya glanced at his watch for the tenth time in as many minutes. The train should’ve been here five minutes ago. It was the last one of the day that was headed for his destination, so it had better get here soon.
He tilted his head back to look at the sky. It was a dreary day— windy and grey and cold. Very cold.
Chuuya shivered. He was glad he hadn’t let Dazai convince him to let him come with. This weather wouldn’t have done him any good.
He couldn’t help the prickle of unease that he felt whenever he thought about how insistent Dazai had been that Chuuya needed him on this mission. Hopefully it was just the fever, and not one of his partner’s eerily-accurate senses of foreboding.
His head snapped down to scan his surroundings at the sound of a rough cough. His gaze landed on a familiar black coat— actually worn correctly, for once— shaking with the coughing fit.
Chuuya stomped over, gritting his teeth as he fought not to lose his patience. He grabbed Dazai by the collar and yanked him down to eye level as he hissed, “What the hell do you think you’re doing here, bandaged freak?!”
Dazai blinked, like it was taking him longer than usual to reorient himself with the sudden change in altitude. Then he gave Chuuya a smug grin.
“Why, Chuuya! Fancy meeting you here.”
Chuuya couldn’t help but wince when he heard his voice. Dazai sounded even worse than he had when Chuuya left, and he looked it, too. The cold wasn’t doing him any favors, even with his coat tied tightly around him.
“You’re an absolute idiot, y’know that?!” Chuuya snapped under his breath. This close, he could hear Dazai’s teeth chattering— could see the slight sway of his willowy form. The dumbass was white as a ghost— even the glaring red of his nose and cheeks was dulled by his unhealthy pallor.
“I told you, Chu-“ the rest of Dazai’s words were lost to the coughs that wrenched him in half.
“‘Chuuya needs me,’ yeah. I got it,” Chuuya muttered as he kept his partner from falling on his face. He didn’t let it show, but he was really starting to worry about Dazai. It had been a while since he’d been this sick, and it had come on so fast.
Dazai straightened with a groan and a sniff. “You think I want to be here?”
Chuuya looked him in the eye. Honestly, he had a point. Dazai looked like he was about to keel over— a train ride and an overnight mission were probably the last things he felt like doing.
Which meant the chances of this mission going south were probably higher than he’d like to think about.
Chuuya opened his mouth to reply, but the sound of a train whistle interrupted him. He turned to watch as their train finally pulled into the station and other passengers began to board.
He turned back to Dazai with a sigh. “Alright, Shitty Dazai. You win. Let’s go.”
Dazai gave a faint smile— not one of victory, but one that Chuuya could only describe as relieved.
And exhausted.
Chuuya practically had to drag Dazai onto the train, watching him collapse into his seat and smother more coughs into his sleeve. He fell back against the seat and brought a hand up to knead at his chest. Chuuya tried not to worry about the slight wheezing he could hear coming from his partner’s lungs.
Whatever this illness was, it was going straight to Dazai’s chest— which didn’t bode well for his usually-dormant asthma.
As the train pulled out of the station, Dazai leaned his feverish head against the cool glass window.
“Did you at least take the meds before you left?” Chuuya whispered, nudging Dazai’s shoulder.
Dazai grunted an affirmative, and honestly, Chuuya didn’t know if that made him feel more or less worried. His partner had finally dropped the “I’m fine” act, but that only meant that he felt too awful to bother hiding it now.
The train rattled on the tracks, jostling Dazai and making him moan as his head bonked against the window.
He must be really out of it. Chuuya sighed, pulling Dazai so that his head came to rest on his shoulder. “Here, Mackerel.”
Dazai made a questioning noise, though it cut out halfway through.
“Just take it easy. Get some rest, Dazai,” Chuuya murmured, pulling the shivering figure closer to him and enveloping him in his own oversized coat. Dazai went easily, too exhausted to fight it.
Chuuya sighed again, settling in for a long couple of days.
◦☽𖤓☾◦
By the time they made it to their hotel room, Dazai was practically dead on his feet. He was stumbling more than walking, uncovered eye closed and trusting Chuuya to lead him.
Chuuya tugged him into their room and guided him to sit on the bed.
Shit. He looked like death warmed over.
As if on cue, Dazai burst into a series of scraping coughs that made Chuuya wince.
He mentally apologized to anyone in the neighboring rooms.
“Here, take these before you pass out.” Chuuya located the fever reducer and cough medicine they’d stopped to purchase at the convenience store across the street. He shook two pills into his palm and turned to place them in Dazai’s limp hands, along with a bottle of water.
Dazai didn’t even open his eyes to check what Chuuya was handing him. He tossed the pills back, swallowing them with a swig of water and a grimace before letting himself fall back onto the bed. He curled into a ball, shivering hard despite the fact that he was still wearing his coat.
Chuuya clicked his tongue, annoyance disguising his worry. “Lazy bastard.” He removed Dazai’s shoes and coat, making sure to tuck the blanket around his trembling shoulders as he slipped into an exhausted sleep.
It was probably the fastest Chuuya had ever seen him fall asleep. Even insomnia was no match for this flu.
Chuuya rubbed a hand down his face and blew out a breath. Hopefully Dazai would sleep for awhile. In the meantime, he still needed to make a plan for the night’s mission. He located his laptop and powered it up, settling in at the room’s small table.
It hadn’t been more than a half hour when a fit of loud coughing erupted from the bed.
Chuuya looked over to see Dazai curled up in a ball, face fever-flushed and pinched with discomfort.
He stood and made his way over to the bed, where he could see that Dazai had a hand pressed to his chest as the rattling coughs shook him. This close, Chuuya could hear the worrying wheeze that tainted his partner’s every breath.
“Oi, you alright?” Chuuya asked gruffly as Dazai panted.
He received a withering look in return before Dazai squeezed his eyes shut— straining to catch his breath.
Chuuya ran a hand through his strawberry-blond waves. His hair was long enough to tie up into a little high-ponytail now, and equally unruly.
“Alright, move over,” Chuuya finally grunted, climbing onto the bed and sitting himself up against the headboard.
Dazai looked up at him dazedly, breaths still wheezing too much for Chuuya’s comfort.
With an exasperated click of his tongue, Chuuya started pulling Dazai, making him uncurl from the fetal position until he was propped up against the headboard. His weight leaned against Chuuya and his mop of mocha curls rested comfortably on his shoulder.
Chuuya wrapped an arm around Dazai— tight enough that he wouldn’t fall over, but loose enough to not make breathing any more difficult.
“You know it’s harder to breathe when you’re curled up like that,” Chuuya mumbled next to Dazai’s ear as his breaths became less labored.
Dazai tried to hum a response, but was quickly cut off by another few coughs.
“Stop talking, dumbass,” Chuuya scolded, rolling his eyes. He glanced longingly at the desk where his laptop lay, waiting. He wished he’d had the forethought to bring it over to the bed with him, but there was nothing to be done about it now.
Meanwhile, Dazai was refusing to follow the simplest instructions— as usual. He was murmuring about something with his barely-there voice.
“What?” Chuuya growled.
“Chuuya’s gonna get sick,” came the surprisingly worried-sounding rasp.
Chuuya’s lips parted in an “o,” then threatened to pull up at the corners, but he hid it with a scoff. “As if. I have a phenomenal immune system, unlike some people.” He brushed away a dark, stray curl. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
Dazai didn’t look convinced, but a wave of bone-deep exhaustion seemed to wash over him, and he listed forward.
Chuuya steadied him, gently settling the feverish head back onto his shoulder. Barely a minute later, and Dazai was already fast asleep again— breathing a little less labored.
Chuuya scrubbed a hand down his face before letting his head fall back so that he could frown at the watermarked ceiling.
It was going to be a long evening.
◦☽𖤓☾◦
Chuuya had waited to move until he was sure that Dazai wouldn’t wake up, and then proceeded to sit himself in front of his laptop so that he could get to work planning the mission.
He barely noticed the hours flying by as the clicking and clacking of the keyboard drowned out all other sounds. His surroundings suddenly sharpened back into focus when he heard a groan, and he had to reorient himself.
Chuuya looked over at Dazai, who was shifting back into wakefulness. Chuuya glanced at the time and his eyes widened when he realized that five hours had passed— then turned towards the groggy lump on the bed.
Dazai seemed to be tangled in the blankets, and Chuuya had to bite his lip to suppress a chuckle. He padded over to the bed, deciding to be merciful and untangle his partner from the heavy material.
Dazai’s head finally popped out of the blanket prison. His hair was a mess, and he blinked wide, bleary eyes as he, too, tried to reorient himself.
“Sleep well?” Chuuya couldn’t quite keep the amusement out of his voice as Dazai turned to look at him.
He stared, unblinking, until a huge yawn scrunched up his whole face and he finally nodded.
Chuuya rolled his eyes in what he would never admit was fondness, ruffling Dazai’s hair.
Dazai whined in protest, belatedly pulling away.
“You look better,” Chuuya noted, giving him a quick once-over.
Dazai took a deep breath before nodding again. “I feel better.”
“Good.” Chuuya was surprised, but grateful. He’d been really starting to worry about Dazai’s breathing. He grabbed a pill bottle out of the med kit. “Take these.”
“But Chuuya,” Dazai pouted. “I just said that I feel better.”
“Yeah, and I wanna keep it that way, so don’t try me, Dazai.” Chuuya glared, holding out the pills.
Dazai gave an exaggerated sigh, but immediately regretted it when it triggered his cough. He gave Chuuya a sheepish look as he accepted the meds and swallowed them dry.
Chuuya grimaced, which made Dazai smile cheerfully. “You should at least drink something. You’ve gotta be dehydrated at this point.”
Dazai rolled his eyes, but grabbed a water bottle from the desk and took a few sips, staring at Chuuya the entire time.
Chuuya clicked his tongue before turning back to the laptop. His infiltration plan was nearly complete, but there was some key element that he was overlooking— he was sure of it.
Dazai dragged the blanket off of the bed and pulled it around his shoulders, then plopped himself down at the desk next to Chuuya.
Chuuya could practically hear the gears turning in Dazai’s head as he analyzed Chuuya’s plan.
Finally, he sat back with a nod and a sniffle. “You’re missing the code for System B3. If you don’t disable it, you’ll trigger the release of a noxious gas, and the building will lock itself down in under two minutes. The code should be,” he paused, rubbing his nose, “X1937.”
Chuuya stared at the screen as Dazai sneezed into the blanket. He would’ve never known to plan for that.
“I told you that you needed me,” Dazai said, voice equal parts smug and congested.
Chuuya gritted his teeth. As much as he hated to admit it, Dazai was probably right. Chuuya could’ve definitely completed the mission without Dazai’s intel, but it likely would’ve been messier, more dangerous, and taken much longer.
Chuuya slumped back in his chair, growling at the ceiling and pointedly ignoring Dazai’s shit-eating grin.
“Yeah, whatever,” he eventually muttered. He glanced at the time again. “I should get going now if I wanna be back before midnight.”
Dazai’s smile fell as he chewed his lip. “I should go wi-“
“No way in hell.” Chuuya cut him off, holding up a hand to dismiss any further argument. “You stay here and rest so we can head out first thing tomorrow.”
Dazai pulled the blanket tighter around himself, pouting.
And oh. Chuuya mentally facepalmed. How could he have forgotten how clingy Dazai got when he had a fever?
Chuuya shrugged on his long, black coat— pulling his hair up and setting his hat atop his head before letting a gloved hand fall onto Dazai’s sleep-mussed curls.
“I’ll be back in a few hours. You can stay on the comm if you’re that worried about me,” he smirked, gently tugging on Dazai’s ear.
Dazai swatted him away with a scowl. “Promise you’ll stay on the comm set.”
Chuuya rolled his eyes. “As long as you don’t give me away with all of your coughing. And get some damn rest.” With that, he roughly patted Dazai’s cheek and strode towards the door.
He threw his sulking partner one last glance before disappearing into the cold, dark night.
◦☽𖤓☾◦
Chuuya stumbled back into their hotel room just after 1am, cold, and covered in dirt and blood— thankfully, none of it belonging to him.
He slumped against the door, letting his eyes flutter shut in exhaustion as his teeth chattered. It had been a pretty straightforward mission, but it had taken a lot of precision and risky maneuvers, making him all the more grateful for Dazai’s input.
Speaking of Dazai, Chuuya opened his eyes to see the familiar lump on the bed.
He toed off his boots and hung up his hat and coat before quietly approaching the bed.
The bedside lamp was still on, and Dazai was curled up on his side, out cold.
Chuuya huffed as he caught sight of the comm set clutched in Dazai’s hand, refusing to let go of his connection to his partner even as he slept— just in case he was needed.
Chuuya carefully removed the comm set from his grasp, and it was a testament to how exhausted Dazai was that he didn’t even stir.
He pressed the back of his ungloved hand to Dazai’s cheek, finding it much cooler than it had been all day.
Chuuya let out a relieved exhale at the signs that Dazai seemed to be on the mend.
Hopefully that meant he’d be able to sleep peacefully, too, because damn, he was tired.
Chuuya grabbed a change of clothes and plodded over to the bathroom to change and do a rudimentary cleanup before turning off the lamp and letting himself fall face-first onto the mattress.
He had just enough awareness to crawl to the head of the bed and pull the blanket over himself before he passed out.
◦☽𖤓☾◦
Dazai squinted his eyes open to find the room dark. He didn’t remember turning off the light last night— although to be fair, he didn’t remember falling asleep either.
He sat up slowly, taking stock of his body. He was still tired and a bit weak, but all things considered, he felt much better than he had yesterday.
A gravelly groan drew his attention to the other bed.
Dazai’s brow furrowed. He gingerly rose and approached the other bed, only to be met with a sight that made his chest squeeze in an entirely different way.
Chuuya was splayed out across the mattress with a sheen of sweat covering his visible skin. His soaked bangs were a mess, and his expression was pinched with discomfort as he shifted restlessly.
It didn’t take a genius detective to deduce that Chuuya had caught his flu.
“Stupid Chuuya. I told you you were gonna get sick,” Dazai muttered as he brushed away Chuuya’s bangs and pressed the backs of his fingers to his forehead.
Dazai gritted his teeth at the heat he found there, and rushed to grab the first aid kit. He pulled out the thermometer and held it steady between Chuuya's lips, even as his partner tried to turn his head away.
The device beeped and Dazai lifted it up to squint at the display.
103.9°F.
Not good— even for Chuuya, who naturally ran warm, and was gifted with accelerated healing from the singularity inside of him.
“D’zai?”
Dazai’s head shot up at the sound of the weak voice, and he crouched next to the bed. “Ne, Chibi. Whatever happened to your phenomenal immune system, hmm?" He teased, keeping his still-hoarse voice low.
Chuuya’s answering retort was interrupted by a series of rumbling coughs. He curled in on himself as the coughing shook his petite frame.
Dazai wanted to reach out a hand and pat Chuuya on the back, but depending on how lucid he was, the gesture might not be well received.
Chuuya had a temperamental relationship with touch at the best of times, but when he felt like he lacked control, touch was a no-go.
Once the coughing stopped, Chuuya rolled onto his back again, swallowing roughly and rubbing at his throat.
“How do you feel?” Dazai asked tentatively.
Chuuya shot him a look that clearly said “How do you think?”
“Right.” Dazai scratched the back of his neck. “Your fever’s pretty high. Do you want a cooling patch?”
Chuuya groaned, grinding his knuckles into his temples. “Sure. Whatever.”
Dazai checked the first aid kit, but they must’ve forgotten to restock the cooling patches last time one of them needed them— which meant the last time that Dazai had needed them.
He got to his feet, blinking quickly to disperse the black spots that filled his vision— likely a consequence of his lack of food or water yesterday. He hurried to the bathroom, grabbing a small towel and wetting it, then hurried back to Chuuya’s side.
He hesitated, unsure if his help would be welcome, but then began to run the cloth in soothing strokes down Chuuya’s overheated body, hoping it would cool him off.
Chuuya let out a sigh of relief, followed by a slight shiver. He closed his eyes as Dazai continued his task, only opening them to stare up at Dazai as he carefully placed the cloth on his burning forehead.
Chuuya moaned, this time in satisfaction, and Dazai’s lips twitched.
“Shut the hell up,” Chuuya mumbled, illness causing the rumbling bass of his voice to be even deeper.
“I didn’t say anything,” Dazai whined, albeit quieter than usual.
“Y’didn’t have to.” Chuuya coughed into his elbow. “I can smell your smugness from here.”
“Are you sure you can smell anything right now?” Dazai smirked.
Chuuya raised an eyebrow at him. “Can you?”
Dazai stuck out his bottom lip in response.
Chuuya rolled his eyes, but was quickly cut off by a wince. He lifted a hand to massage his forehead, brow pinched in discomfort.
Dazai turned to dig through the first aid kit and pulled out a bottle of painkillers, as well as the medicine that Chuuya had given him last night. He shook the appropriate doses into his palm, then held them out to Chuuya wordlessly.
Chuuya accepted the meds without protest, but didn’t take them. He pushed himself up, like he was planning on getting out of bed, but only made it to the edge of the bed before his headache made him regret the move.
He clutched his head in a hand, and Dazai could see his jaw muscles jump as he clenched his teeth.
“If you need something, you should just ask.”
Chuuya glared up at Dazai. He knew that Dazai already knew what he needed, but he hated asking for help.
Dazai also knew this.
Finally, Chuuya let out a growl. “Get me some fucking water, will ya?”
“Of course, Chibi!” Dazai quickly retrieved a water bottle from the room’s mini fridge, then held it out to Chuuya with an innocent smile.
Chuuya sneered as he snatched the bottle and swallowed down the meds with a grimace. “I’m going back to sleep,” Chuuya muttered before turning to face away from Dazai.
Dazai waited until Chuuya's breaths evened out to release a sigh. He tucked the blanket around his partner and re-wetted the cool cloth before gently laying it across Chuuya’s forehead.
He turned to cough into his elbow, trying to keep quiet so that he didn’t disturb his sick partner. He was starting to feel a bit tired again, which made sense this soon into his recovery, so he returned to his bed to rest.
He didn’t mean to fall asleep. He didn’t even realize that he had until he was startled awake by the sound of an urgent shout from across the room.
Dazai was immediately out of bed, staggering when a wave of intense lightheadedness washed over him. He caught himself on the wall, blinking quickly as he waited for the world to stop spinning.
Another anguished yell from the other bed had him stumbling forward until he could lean on the side of the mattress and take in his partner’s current state.
Chuuya’s blankets had been kicked off in a feverish heat, and his bangs were plastered to his forehead. His normally soft, vibrant curls were limp and lackluster.
But what made Dazai’s breath catch in his throat was the sight of Chuuya levitating an inch off of the bed every few seconds, only for his ability to fizzle out and let him fall to the mattress with a thump.
His lips were moving, too— muttering something under his breath.
Without thinking, Dazai’s hand darted out to clasp around the hot skin of Chuuya's wrist. His blood pounded in his ears as visions of a deliriously corrupted Chuuya flashed before his mind’s eye.
There was no way to know whether the slurred words had actually been the activation code, but Dazai wasn’t taking any chances. He sat down on the side of Chuuya’s bed, watching him closely for any signs of distress, but the furrow of his brow had smoothed and the tension around his lips had faded, leaving them softly parted.
Dazai released a harsh exhale and dragged a hand down his face. He felt like he’d only slept for 10 minutes, but the bedside clock said that it had been over two hours since he’d given Chuuya his meds.
He’d need to give him another dose soon. Dazai reached down to sweep Chuuya’s sweaty hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear and letting the backs of his fingers linger on his partner’s flushed cheek.
He felt a bit warmer than before, but not alarmingly so. However, that rise in temperature was in spite of the medication, which wasn’t a good sign.
Chuuya coughed into his pillow, and it sounded grating. Dazai would have to get him something to soothe his throat later, too.
Dazai lifted his hand to cover a yawn, punctuating it with a light cough of his own. He rubbed his watery eyes, then looked down at his other hand, which had Chuuya’s wrist in a tight grip.
He didn’t dare to let go of Chuuya— no matter how unlikely it was that his dark fantasies would come to life— but his body was already slumping in residual exhaustion and muscle aches.
He eyed the empty space on the bed next to Chuuya. It was small, but they could make it work. After all, they’d fit themselves together into smaller spaces than that before.
Carefully, without letting go of Chuuya, Dazai climbed onto the bed and crawled over his sleeping partner's sprawled legs. He grabbed the discarded blankets and pulled them up to cover them both as he pressed himself against Chuuya's backside.
Only then did he let go of his wrist, and that was only so that he could card his long, thin fingers through Chuuya’s sad waves.
Pianist fingers, Chuuya had once called them— though how he had acquired that knowledge Dazai was unsure.
For the rest of the day, Chuuya drifted in and out of awareness as Dazai tried to hide his earnestness at taking care of him. Other than when he was getting Chuuya something— like meds or water— Dazai stayed glued to his side all day.
By the time the sun was setting, Chuuya’s fever had broken and he was sitting up and carrying on conversation despite his slightly raspy voice.
Dazai would never admit it, but he liked the sound of Chuuya’s voice when it got all deep and gravelly like this. Though, he wasn’t dwelling on that at the moment. He was too busy sulking about Chuuya’s accelerated healing. It wasn’t fair that Chuuya got to recover so quickly when Dazai was still feeling the dregs of his own illness.
“We should be able to catch the 6:00 train in the morning if we get packed up tonight,” Chuuya said as he scrolled through the train schedule on his phone. His other hand was lightly massaging his brow— likely trying to alleviate the remainder of his headache.
Dazai looked up from his own phone when Chuuya cleared his throat, unsure if the action was intended to get his attention or relieve his scratchy throat.
He found Chuuya staring pointedly at him with one eyebrow raised.
“What?” Dazai asked.
“What do you mean, ‘what’”? Chuuya replied, annoyance dripping from his tone. “Get off of your lazy ass and start packing.”
“But Chuuya,” Dazai whined, drawing out the word. There really wasn’t much to pack, but he didn’t particularly want to get up right now. His muscles ached and he’d just gotten warm and comfortable in his bed. Looking after Chuuya all day had really taken it out of him.
“Don’t ’but Chuuya’ me. I had to do all the work for this mission myself, on top of having to take care of you, bastard. It’s your turn to contribute.”
Dazai pouted, reluctantly throwing back the covers and getting to his feet. Another wave of lightheadedness hit him, and he fought to keep his face blank. He turned towards the desk where the biggest mess of their things was, blinking hard to clear the dark spots from his vision.
His ears were ringing, and a cold feeling washed over him, but he tried not to let it show. He didn’t want Chuuya to get out of bed and worry over him when there was nothing wrong.
“Oi, toss me another bottle of water, will you?” Chuuya called from across the room before coughing again.
Dazai hummed his affirmative before carefully making his way to the room’s mini fridge and blindly fumbling for a bottled water. He took one step towards Chuuya's bed, and the next thing he registered was the fading echo of his name being shouted and a sharp pain as he landed on his elbow.
“Oi, Daz-“ Chuuya was cut off as he broke into a fit of coughs, but even through the cotton in his ears Dazai could hear him shifting to get up.
“M’fine Chibi,” Dazai slurred as he attempted to push himself up on shaky arms, and shit that had sounded way less convincing than he’d been going for.
“Fine, my ass,” Chuuya snapped, and a moment later he was crouched right next to Dazai’s spinning head. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Dazai groaned as he tried again to get himself off of the floor, and this time Chuuya grabbed him under the shoulder to help him up.
As soon as he was on his feet again, Dazai stumbled, blinking rapidly as his legs threatened to give out and send him crashing to the floor again.
“Damn it,” Chuuya hissed as he pushed Dazai towards the end of his bed so that he could sit down. He paused for a split second before slapping his palm to Dazai’s forehead. “Damn it, Dazai. You’re burning up! Why didn’t you tell me you were still sick?”
Dazai squinted blearily up at Chuuya’s glaring face. “I didn’t think that I was. Plus, you weren’t exactly in any condition to do anything about it,” he said pointedly.
“Smartass.” Chuuya clicked his tongue before turning away to cough roughly into his elbow.
Dazai tugged on his shirt until he was sitting at the foot of the bed next to him. Chuuya finally lowered his arm with a heavy sigh.
“What a fucking pair we make,” he muttered.
Dazai hummed, rubbing at his burning eyes.
“This is all your fault, y’know,” Chuuya snapped as he stretched forward to grab his phone off of the nightstand.
“Don’t be mean to me, Slug. I’m sick.” Dazai coughed pathetically and let himself fall backwards onto the bed, where he curled into a shivering ball.
“Oh, so now you wanna play the sick card,” Chuuya grumbled as he dialed a number on his phone. “If you had just stayed home like I told you to then neither of us would be in this situation.”
Dazai heaved a huge sigh that ended up irritating his unhappy lungs again. Through the coughing, Dazai heard the sound of Chuuya talking to someone on the phone. By the time his coughs petered out, Chuuya was tossing his phone back on the nightstand and falling backwards to join Dazai in lying on the mattress.
“The Old Man is on his way,” Chuuya informed him before letting his eyes slip shut.
“Mori-san isn’t going to be pleased that we put another one of his top players out of commission by dragging him all the way here.” Dazai tried for a haughty tone, but it just sounded tired.
“Yeah, well, Boss will just have to deal with it,” Chuuya muttered, punctuating his defiance with a hearty sniff. “Pass me a tissue, will ya?”
Dazai groaned as he reached for the nearly-empty box of tissues, then tossed it hard enough that Chuuya had to stretch to catch it.
“Bastard,” he growled.
“I hope Hirotsu-san gets here soon,” Dazai complained over the sound of Chuuya blowing his nose.
“He said it’ll be about five hours.” Chuuya tossed the crumpled tissue into a wastebasket across the room. “Which gives me plenty of time for a nap.”
“Another one?” Dazai asked, just to be a brat. Chuuya did look like he could use more sleep. His cheeks were less pink, which meant his fever was staying down, but his eyes were squinted with lingering fatigue, so more rest would probably do him good.
“I’m still sick,” Chuuya shot back, and elbowed Dazai in the ribs.
Dazai whined. “So am I.”
“Then you take a fucking nap, too!” Chuuya shouted, which made him cough. He growled in exasperation. “I don't care what you do, just do it silently.”
With that, Chuuya turned over so that his back was facing Dazai.
Dazai sighed, cringing as he heard the loud wheeze. He hadn’t said anything earlier, but this illness had been making his chest feel uncomfortably tight. However, it wasn’t like he had access to breathing treatments here, so there was nothing to be done but hope it didn’t get worse.
He closed his eyes. He might as well take a nap too— it would at least make the next five hours pass by more quickly.
Just as his breathing was starting to even out and the heaviness of sleep pressed into his limbs, he felt the bed dip, and then there was a calloused hand grazing across his cheek— checking the temperature.
Dazai forced his face to remain passive until he felt Chuuya shift back onto his side. Only then did he let a soft smile curve his lips, just for a moment, before he surrendered to the pull of sleep.
◦☽𖤓☾◦
True to his word, five hours later, Hirotsu pulled into the parking lot of their motel, where the two weary teens stood waiting outside of the motel door in the brisk night air.
“We had to check-out early ‘cause they had some kind of curfew,” Chuuya muttered in explanation as he climbed into the vehicle.
Hirotsu hadn’t asked, but he did shoot a concerned look in the rear-view mirror at Dazai, who was slumped over and shivering hard.
“I see,” Hirotsu replied, voice intentionally neutral. “Boss sends his best wishes for your speedy recovery, and a ‘well done’ on a successful mission.”
“Yeah, no thanks to this guy,” Chuuya grumbled, gesturing at his partner, at the same time as Dazai let out a scoff, which immediately led to another round of hoarse coughs.
The vehicle fell into not quite comfortable silence as they started the long drive back to Yokohama.
After an hour of quiet, which was practically unheard of when it involved Double Black, Hirotsu couldn’t help but glance into the backseat. The sight he was met with made him do a double-take.
Dazai’s head was resting against Chuuya’s shoulder, congested breaths whistling softly on the exhale, while Chuuya’s head was propped against Dazai’s mussed curls as gentle snores escaped him. His coat was draped over them both as they slept peacefully.
Hirotsu shook his head with a fondness that a seasoned mafioso such as himself shouldn’t possess. This was the side of Double Black that no one saw, which was precisely why they’d called him to come pick them up.
He wouldn’t breathe a word of this sight to anyone.
It had been a while since he had seen them like this, he thought to himself. Hirotsu turned his attention back to the long road ahead of them, memories of a younger Double Black in those exact same positions running through his head like a film roll as he steered them towards home.