Chapter Text
The mission had been one of those drawn out ones, the waiting and planning was more time consuming than the actual fighting. Not to say that the fight wasn’t hard, because Chuuya’s aching muscles were a great argument against that statement.
The port mafia had been passing along all of the dirty work to him lately, making him do jobs that he was overqualified for. Though he couldn’t complain, he had promised himself to the Mafia, and if they wanted him to eliminate an opposing gang then he would gladly do so.
But as Chuuya struggled to unlock his apartment with shaky hands, his skin burning like fire had kissed it, he quickly realized that he would be in no condition to continue to work as he had been. That overnight stakeout in the rain coupled with the fight must have taken a lot out of him.
Chuuya didn’t even bother flicking on his lights, coughing into his elbow as he kicked off his muddy shoes. His clothes were in a similar state of disarray, but his thoughts were too muddled to give two shits about tracking the mud and water on the floor. His body practically shook with the force of his coughs, he held onto the counter for dear life, doubled over through his cough attack. His vision was fuzzy when he straightened back up, a deep ache throughout his body making itself known. His adrenaline must have finally worn off.
It took all of his will power to drag himself to his bed in the next room, the floor looking cold and inviting, but dammit, Chuuya was an executive in the port mafia. He absolutely refused to sleep on the floor. His sheets would most definitely need to be changed when he woke up, but that was an issue for later. Filling out his mission report was an issue for later. Collaborating with Kunikida about how their end of the mission went would be an issue for later.
for now, Chuuya allowed his fevered mind to slip away.
He would get up tomorrow feeling well rested and go back to his job, maybe even open a bottle of wine with Hirotsu and grab lunch with Ane-san.
Chuuya would wake up the next day feeling totally fine.
Unfortunately though, the universe didn’t bend to his will.
The rapid fire typing on a keyboard filled the relative silence of the Armed detective agencies office. It was a rare moment, the agency was almost never quiet, even if half of its occupants were always gone on a mission or out running an errand. Today though, there was only peace and quiet.
Kunikida stopped his typing, adjusting his glasses as he scanned the room suspiciously. Everything seemed to be in order, and he decided that he wouldn’t break the bout of silence to nag Dazai who lounged on the couch humming his suicide song. Though what was even more strange was the lack of call from Chuuya on last night's mission. The man was almost as strict as Kunikida was about his work, so the fact that he missed their scheduled meeting spelt trouble.
Kunikida pushed back his chair to stand, the others eyes landing on him as he cleared his throat. “Has anyone seen or heard from Chuuya?"
Ranpo popped another lollipop in his mouth “Who, fancy hat man?”
Kunikida sighed exasperated “Yes, fancy hat man.”
Yosano popped her head out of her infirmary, her eyes narrowed. “It’s the afternoon and he hasn’t answered any calls? That's strange” she mused, they had all gotten used to the red heads presence considering he had been the main executive from the Port Mafia to accompany them on their joint missions ever since the truce. “Try asking the president or the lump over there” she said, pointing to Dazai.
All eyes shifted to Osamu who abruptly stopped his humming, looking up from his magazine. “Huh, why are you all looking at me?” he whined. “I don’t know where the hatrack is!” Dazai didn’t even get any drunk calls from him to use as blackmail later.. Meaning that he probably wasn’t hungover in a ditch somewhere.
“Well should we look for him?” Atsushi offered, eyes shining with concern.
Kunikida shook his head, taking a seat back in his chair. “No, we should not intervene in the port mafia’s business. I’m sure that he has a good reason for not calling.”
Atsushi hummed thoughtfully “I suppose you're right.”
The agency returned to its previous quiet state with an exception of Dazai, who dramatically rolled over on the couch to stand up, a smirk on his face. He was never good at keeping his nose out of the port Mafias business, especially the hatracks.
And later after picking his apartment's locks and disarming various traps, Dazai annoyingly stomped into the residence, making as much ruckus as humanly possible. “Chibi, you have a guest~”
The living space remained eerily quiet, not even the distant cursing of his ill tempered ex-partner could be heard. Dazai analyzed the room, caramel eyes not missing the out of place set of boots on the floor, nor the dried trail of mud. "Chibi~” He called again, following the trail “How could you allow your place to get so messy? How irresponsible of you-”
Dazai stopped in his tracks when his eyes landed on Chuuya, who was regretfully, not dead in a ditch, but not looking too far away from it. He lay in a fetal position, his hair was tangled and matted, clinging to his flushed face. His clothes caked with mud and who knew what else, hell, even his hat was present, though it looks like it had fallen to the floor during the red head's restless slumber.
The chibi was never still when he slept, kicking Dazai off of the cheap motel bed multiple times since Mori was too much of a cheap ass to pay for more than one bed. Yet another thing to add to his ever growing list of ‘reasons to hate Chuuya Nakahara.’
Even so, Dazai approached the bed, nose scrunching up in mock disgust as he brushed the stray bangs away from his ex-partners face. His cold palms coming in contact with Chuuya’s heated skin. The chibi subconsciously chased Dazai’s hand as he pulled away.
“How can you be so reckless, slug” Dazai tsked “All brains and no brawns.”
All he received in reply was a sleepy grumble.
Dazai looked down at the miserable sight before him, sighing in exasperation. He couldn’t just leave the useless slug here to die helplessly. Who would he make fun of for being short if the chibi weren't there?
Osamu took a moment to contemplate before deciding on his game plan. Poking the angry man on the cheek until he woke up. Unfortunately, he slept like the dead, so Dazai went with the next best option. Stripping him and dropping him into the waters of the bathtub. (Warm water because he wasn't a monster.)
The chibi awoke slowly, disappointing Dazai an enormous amount considering any normal person would wake up startled, faces panicked and limbs flailing. Chuuya simply poked his head above the water, fever hazed eyes clouded with confusion.
He looked much like a kicked puppy, or perhaps a sad kitten.
Once Chuuya caught sight of Dazai standing over the tub, he sat up completely, clutching onto the side of the porcelain. “What’re doin’ here Mackerel.” He snarled, his intimidating effect ruined by his practically non-existent voice.
“You sound like one of those chain smokers Chibi, have you been irresponsible?”
“Fuck off” Chuuya broke into a nasty coughing fit. If Dazai were a nicer person he would get up from his new seated position next to the tub and grab a bottle of water, but he would resort to making Chuuya drink the bath water.
“Did you break int’ my apartment?”
Dazai smiled innocently “I had to come take care of my damsel in distress.”
He quickly scooted out of splash range as Chuuya weakly flicked his wrist, flinging water droplets across the floor. “‘M fine you can’ fuc’ off now.”
“Nah-ah-ah~” Dazai wagged his finger, clambering to his feet. “I’m bored and I don’t want to go back to the agency and you happen to be as sick as a dog. I hate dogs. Don’t you see the opportunity presented?”
Chuuya was too busy viciously scrubbing the dirt from his hair to listen to Dazai’s bullshit.
“I will stay here and say that I chivalrously offered to nurse my sheep dog back to health all while being excused from paperwork!”
“Not that you did it anyways.” Chuuya grumbled, sniffling slightly.
“Ouch, that hurts Chibi.”
“Good.”
“I don’t like this negative energy” Dazai frowned, turning to the doorway. On his way out he moved the towel to the highest shelf knowing that Chuuya will have to stand on his tippy toes to retrieve it. “Alright then Chibi, don’t drown in the vast waters of the bathtub while I’m gone~”
The ‘fuck you’ he got in reply was faint, but it was there.
Chuuya honestly didn’t know what the fuck was going on, he could be having a fever dream for all he knew, because waking up in a bathtub with his ex-partner nagging him had not been what he was expecting.
After the annoyance finally left his bathroom to snoop around in his apartment Chuuya did a self assessment. His head felt like it had recently been used as a drum and it was practically impossible to breath through his nose. He was horrified to find that the shitty Dazai was right. His voice did, in fact, sound like a chain smoker. To make it worse, his fever still remained.
At least the dirt and grime no longer clung to his skin.
As soon as Chuuya stood from the cooling water he realized just how sore his muscles were. They practically shook with over exertion as he stepped out of the tub, his legs feeling like jelly.
Did he really overwork himself that much?
He lowered himself to the floor, not wanting to make a fool out of himself by even attempting to drag himself across the room to reach for that towel. Maybe he could crawl?
His headache spiked the more he thought, so he hunched over and shivered. The cold air felt uncomfortable against his hot skin.
Surprisingly, warmth came in the form of a fluffy towel being draped over him.
Chuuya pulled it closer to him, his teeth chattering as he glared halfheartedly at Dazai.
“I thought you just couldn’t reach the towel, but it looks like you couldn’t even get to it.” He teased “I’m not going to have to carry you around like a little baby am i?”
“Hell no.” Chuuya clenched his teeth as he leaned heavily against the nearby wall, slowly standing and making his way to his bedroom. Dazai trailed behind him, surprisingly not saying a single word. And even more shocking, he noticed that his dirty sheets had been replaced with clean ones as Chuuya practically fell onto the welcoming mattress. Before he could do anything else, a lump of cloth was thrown at him.
“Don’t get your bed all wet, and towel dry your hair, this carelessness is why you're sick in the first place. Am I gonna have to start treating you like a toddler? You were walking like a newborn deer in there.”
‘Like Dazai treated himself much better.’
Chuuya held his tongue at the teasing insults, not wanting to waste his voice on arguing at the moment. Even though his limbs ached, he managed to sit up against the headboard to slide on the sweater and sweatpants that Dazai had tossed to him.
With the new articles of clothing he was both burning hot and freezing cold.
Chuuya let himself curl up into a ball, drifting back off to sleep to escape the heat flashes.
“Chibi~” Dazai called, walking back into his room, a bowl of soup in one hand and medication in the other. He let out an annoyed huff when he noticed the other had fallen asleep. He set the soup down before moving to harshly shake the red head. “C’mon, at least take the medication. Don’t make me force feed it to you like the sheepdog you are.”
He did end up having to force the medication down Chuuya’s mouth like he was a dog, plugging the red head's nose so he would swallow the pills.
Chuuya subconsciously pulled the covers closer to himself, making Dazai smirk at the act, taking pictures for future blackmail. This was much better than drunk voicemails.
------
Chuuya’s condition only worsened that night.
After much snooping Dazai found Chuuya’s phone on the floor next to his nasty boots, he probably dropped it on his way in, the stupid Chibi. His phone was the only reason he knew where he lived, having put a chip in it when they fought Lovecraft.
What can Dazai say? He liked to stay updated on his partners, old and new. What was their business was ultimately his.
There were multiple missed calls and messages from the members of the port Mafia. Dazai took the liberty to reply to all of them like the nice person he was.
To: Hirotsu
To: Hirotsu
<Yes, I am completely fine, I just couldn’t stand your Dilf energy so I had to take a day off
Hirotsu:...
To: Ane-san
<Dazai is the best human being ever and I am passing my will over to him
Ane-san: Dazai Lad, what have you done to Chuuya
Dazai even shot off a text to Kunikida letting him know that he was having a sleepover with Chuuya, to which he replied asking if he needed to send backup.
Chuuya, for the most part, slept like the dead throughout the rest of the afternoon and into the night. He didn’t even wake up to eat his soup, the audacity . Dazai ended up eating it for himself while sitting at the end of the chibi’s bed in hopes that he would wake up to the glorious smell and be disheartened when Dazai refused to let him have any.
Of course he had no such luck.
Later that night Dazai started performing temperature checks every thirty minutes because he could be responsible when he wanted to be. And, well, because there had been a wake up call that forced him to take the sickness more seriously.
It was around nine during the night when it happened, Dazai was taking selfies on Chuuya’s phone when there came a hoarse cry from the other room. It was one he had heard before when he was in the Port Mafia fighting back to back with his partner. When Chuuya got hurt in an attempt to protect him.
Chuuya was wailing like he had been stabbed, and frankly, it was a sound Dazai could have gone the rest of his life without hearing.
Dazai, usually the lazy person, quickly made his way across the apartment, pushing past Chuuya’s door to find the man flailing around in bed. Dazai was snapped out of his thoughts on the past when Chuuya’s hands started to glow a familiar scarlet color. If he used his ability now then he would most likely blow the apartment complex sky high and take Dazai with him. So he slid up next to the thrashing body, his cool hand brushing against the flushed skin of Chuuya’s cheek.
Immediately the light was dispelled, Chuuya’s hazy eyes blinking open.
Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes as his gaze darted around the darkened room. “Wha-” he sputtered, voice raspy. “W-where ‘s he?!” Dazai pulled back as Chuuya abruptly sat up, flinching in pain at the sudden movement.
Chuuya was obviously not in his right mind, his breathing coming out in ragged pants as he mumbled inaudible phrases under his breath. It must be a fevered dream or hallucination of some sort. Dazai watched with fascination as the other reached out to him, the skin to skin contact erasing his ability.
Chuuya then stilled, clarity in his eyes. “A-arahabaki wont s-shut up.”
Dazai hummed, tracing his fingers along Chuuya’s battered skin. He was a furnace with the amount of heat he was radiating. “Better?”
Chuuya nodded, letting out a sigh in relief. It was a routine they had undergone many times before when they were younger. Arahabaki was a bastard to his vessel, spewing word venom into Chuuya’s little ears and being as loud as he could when he was restless. The slug would always stomp up to him and find some way to get the skin to skin contact whether it be punching him on the arm or grabbing his wrist.
And really, how could Dazai turn him away when his sheepdog looked so pitiful?
He was brought back to the present when the chibi slumped over onto him, the tension escaping his insultingly tiny body. Dazai frowned as he gently led him back down to a lying position, brushing his bandaged hand across his forehead.
Dazai fished a thermometer out from his pocket, he had the foretell to snatch one while he was up and snooping around. He pushed the thermometer past chapped lips and hopefully under his tongue.
102.3
A high fever, of course.
He was admittedly, not good at caring for people, especially when they were sick. Dazai knew how the body worked, it needed food and water and happy kitten videos, none of which he had supplied to Chuuya.
Well, he had tried to at least.
Ugh, it looked like he needed to step up.
Dazai set the device aside as he pulled the blanket over Chuuya’s prone form, making sure to keep a hand on his forehead to silent the destructive force trapped inside of him. “Pick a struggle” he muttered, “being short or being sick.”
Not much registered in Chuuya’s muddled mind besides that fact that he was sick, and the person who he hated the most was doing a relatively shitty job at nursing him back to health.
Chuuya was either in a deep sleep filled with fevered dreams and pounding headaches, or waking up in ten minute segments from the stinging heat or the biting cold. He wasn’t sure when the vomiting spells started, but they were there.
As he heaved into a strategically placed trash can (He remembered the waste of bandages having to run for one the first time he threw up.) A cool hand traced circles along his shaking back, he was wound as tight as a cord and not even the shitty mackerel's careful ministrations could help him.
He would be stabbed by his former partner one moment, and the next he would be pulled out of the dream, a cool metal- probably a thermometer- was pushed into his mouth. Occasionally when he was aware enough to know what was going on, he would force his cracked lips to move, his damaged vocal cords asking for water.
He was so exhausted that he couldn’t even fight Dazai off as he poked at his cheek. Chuuya simply opened his mouth, allowing for medication or soup to enter it. Was it one of his proudest moments? No, no it certainly was not.
He would get the waste of bandages back for his constant teasing. He was sick, dammit, couldn't he live in peace?
Time passed both slow and fast in his sickened state, though the (hopefully last) fever dream he would experience was the worst one yet.
Anyone who asked past Chuuya his emotions on Dazai’s betrayal, he would huff and say good riddance . It wasn’t like he needed that asshole anyways, it was one less hindrance to deal with.
He blew up his car for fucks sake, a valid reason to hate his guts.
Because he needed that reason and he needed it badly.
He needed something to cling onto, something to be angry about so he could continue living with at least half of the sanity and dignity he had left.
If you asked Ane-san how Chuuya was holding up, the downturn of her kind eyes would convey all that needed to be said. He was not okay because everything changed. His partner, the reason he joined the port mafia, the reason he found a home, the person he had entrusted his life too, had just… vanished without a single word.
Chuuya Nakahara was not dumb, there was no way in hell that Dazai would let himself be killed by anyone but himself. So he took the pain with bared teeth and a bottle of wine because Dazai Osamu was never coming back.
He was gone.
He left him with a bleeding heart.
Dazai was go-
And then Chuuya woke up and he was sitting right there next to him, those cold calculating eyes of his actually showing genuine emotion. Chuuya choked on his own voice as he moved to sit up, his whole body aching in protest, his head spinning with the movement.
Chuuya was by no means a soft person, he believed that the emotion that fueled him the most was anger, but right now, looking at the very man who had left him a mess all of those years ago, it was all sapped from his bones.
He would allow himself to feel that pain, even if it was mostly just his exhausted and overtired heart dictating his emotions rather than his brain. He was sick, so that didn’t help too much either.
“O-osamu” His voice was wobbly, sounding like a child instead of the emotionally constipated adult he was.
Dazai’s eyes widened a fraction at his given name, and Chuuya felt a small twist in his gut at the sight. Or maybe that was just him needing to throw up.
Chuuya was sure he looked like an utter wreck compared to his collected partner, who watched him with intense eyes. Shrouded with the dull light of the moon, Chuuya’s treacherous fever hazed mind supplied that he looked ethereal.
Chuuya sniffled slightly. It wasn’t fair that the man he hated, that the man who tore apart his life could just come back in without question.
However, his lips failed to form any of his thoughts, instead he let out a pitiful cross between a whimper and a sob.
Dazai was going to leave again.
Dazai was going to leave again and take Chuuya’s heart with him like a ship to an anchor.
Chuuya would be left all alone again-
There were hands on his shuddering shoulders, reassuringly rubbing up and down his arms. “-uuya? Chibi? Hey, calm down.”
Chuuya wanted to pull away from the touch, he really did , but Dazai was like wine. Absolutely addicting and hard to resist. He leaned forward, letting his weight land on his ex-partner (because they would never be anything more than that. ) Hiding his tear stained face from the world.
It was then that Chuuya realized that Osamu was talking to him, mummering sweet nothings into his ear. “I’m not going to leave you again, not like last time.”
Had Chuuya said all of that out loud?
“I never did say sorry to you, did I?” Dazai muttered, a sad smile on his face.
Chuuya had many things to say to that.
‘No, you didn’t asshole.’
‘If I was in my right mind i would have kicked you out by now.’
But he was too busy with trying to steady his rapid breaths to get any words in. Then there was a slender hand, cold and comforting, ghosting along his cheekbone before lightly tipping his jaw up so that they could be face to face. Practically nose to nose.
Chuuya beat down the urge to cough in his face.
“I will explain everything to you once you are all better, chibi. I promise, but for now, you need to sleep.”
Dazai was treating him like a child. Half of Chuuya despised it while the other half reveled in the attention he had been missing out on for four years now. He allowed himself to slouch against the other, head falling against his chest as a wave of emotional exhaustion came crashing into the shoreline of his fucked up mental state.
Dazai shifted slightly, but Chuuya without looking up halfheartedly batted at his shoulder. “Don’ go.”
Chuuya could practically feel the others teasing smile as Dazai brushed his fingers through his hair just as he knew he liked it.
“I won’t Chibi, I won't.”