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The first thing Chuuya became aware of was a tugging on the top of his head. As his consciousness faded back in, he heard a croaking groan. He belatedly realized it was coming from him. The pulling on his hair paused, before resuming its motion.
“Ah, Sleeping Beauty awakes. I was starting to think that you were waiting for true love’s kiss.”
A familiar voice filtered through the ringing that was receding from his ears. Chuuya groaned again.
“What is it with you and the princess metaphors today?” Chuuya winced at the raw quality of his voice. He coughed a couple times and swallowed roughly. He cleared his throat, hoping it would sound less like it had been through a cheese grater.
“It seemed fitting, what with the dragon and all.” His ex-partner’s voice hummed from above him.
Chuuya shifted in his uncomfortable position, his chin digging into Dazai’s bony hip. It would be an awkward and embarrassing arrangement if they hadn’t been in much more compromising situations over the course of their partnership. No, they were well past that point. Not to mention that Chuuya really couldn’t care less about how his ex-partner was holding him when he was in his post-Corruption haze.
Chuuya groaned again as he pushed himself up, arms shaking with fatigue. His body felt like the full force of gravity was being applied to it. His bones felt like they’d been pulverized. His muscles felt like someone had taken a meat tenderizer to them. His joints felt like they’d each been wrenched out of their sockets, hot and swollen. His head was throbbing, his throat was raw, and every inch of his skin felt like one big sunburn. The cherry on top of the proverbial cake was the sluggish fog that permeated through and saturated his brain.
Fortunately, due to his accelerated healing (courtesy of Arahabaki), the worst was already over by the time he awoke from his post-Corruption nap. What he was experiencing right now would only last for another couple hours or so before it faded into aches and pains. He would be incredibly sore and muddled for the next few days, but nothing he hadn’t dealt with before.
Chuuya practically had it down to a science, at this point. Lots of warm baths, steaming tea, soft clothes, light foods, and, especially, sleep were in his near future. He’d have the remainder of the week off to rest and recover, and be back to work, no worse for the wear, come Monday— assuming no more city-wide emergencies cropped up before then.
Chuuya held himself in a kneeling position, keeping as still as possible as he squeezed his eyes shut, breathing heavily.
“Did my dog get all his energy out?” Dazai’s hand rested on his hair, keeping contact, as the green ability mist had yet to dissipate.
The insult was weak by Dazai’s standards, but Chuuya growled nonetheless, and immediately regretted it when it sent him coughing again.
“If I did, it’s because I was fetching your sorry ass,” he said once he caught his breath. When no response immediately followed, Chuuya scoffed. “What, not even a ‘thank you’?”
As the silence dragged on, Chuuya felt unease start to prickle in his chest. It was then that he noticed the limp hand on his head, which had been carding through his hair, detangling the dirty waves, was trembling. Chuuya stiffened, sharpening his senses.
And then he heard it.
The telltale waver of Dazai’s breath, imperceptible to anyone else, which was an unmistakable sign of distress— the only one he couldn’t hide.
Chuuya gritted out a curse and pushed himself upright so he could look at his former partner. What he saw made his insides clench.
Dazai was paper white. The trembling that Chuuya had felt was not limited to his hand. Dazai’s whole upper body was wracked with poorly subdued shivers, obviously trying not to jostle Chuuya. His eyes, wide and glazed over, were staring intently at something far away.
“Damn it, Dazai,” Chuuya hissed. He bit back a wince as he leaned forward to cup Dazai’s face in his hands. His skin was cool and clammy. Chuuya held one eyelid open, and then the other, peering at his pupils, and grimly noted that they were completely blown.
Chuuya sighed, letting his head fall towards his chest. He’d seen enough concussions to recognize when he was looking at one.
“Alright, Shitty Dazai, you know the drill.” Chuuya patted Dazai’s cheek, trying to smack some awareness back into him without aggravating his head. “C’mon, look at me.”
“Who’d wanna look at…such an ugly slug?” The stilted voice unexpectedly answered him, unfocused eyes sliding towards him.
“Hey, you with me, Mackerel?”
“Mmm.”
“Gonna have to give me a little more than that.” Chuuya lightly pinched Dazai’s ear, feeling satisfied when Dazai tried to shift away.
“‘was never gone.”
Chuuya frowned at the response. As always, nothing was ever straightforward with Dazai, and even barely with-it his ex-partner was being ambiguous.
“Neither of us are lucid enough for your riddles, asshole.”
“Did Chuuya have a nice nap?” Dazai asked breathily. He was blinking hard and his chest rose and fell rapidly. Chuuya grabbed his wrist, pressing two fingers to the pulse point. Shit.
“Alright, spill. What else is going on, besides that concussion?”
As if the mention of the concussion reminded him of it, Dazai winced. “Chibi really is so violent.”
Chuuya felt a pang of guilt run through him, but he refused to let himself get deflected. “Cut the bullshit, bastard.”
Dazai gave him a strained smile. “Just the residual poison. And the stab wound.”
Chuuya’s eyes bulged. “You were stabbed?!”
Dazai suddenly flinched and curled in on himself, breathing heavily.
“What? What is it? Dazai?!” Chuuya leaned forward, ignoring the way his own body screamed. Dazai slowly raised his head, face ashen and eyes impossibly big, blinking rapidly.
“S’fine, Chibi. Leav’ it t’me,” he slurred.
All of the sudden, the pieces all came together. In front of him was the classic picture of Dazai trying desperately not to lose consciousness. It was a movie Chuuya had seen more times than he cared to acknowledge, but he blamed his delayed realization on the fact that he felt like he’d been through the shredder.
“You idiot,” Chuuya ground out and tightly clasped a handful of Dazai’s dark curls. Dazai, despite being on the verge of collapse, had been forcing himself to remain conscious so that he could keep watch while Chuuya was passed out. “How long?”
Dazai breathed out a choked laugh as his long lashes fluttered. Then he jolted himself upright, gaze wildly sweeping their surroundings.
“Hey! Dazai.” Chuuya snapped his fingers, feeling bad when Dazai flinched. Damn, his reactions were screwed. “How long was I out, dumbass?”
Dazai hummed. “Dunno. Half hour, hour…”
Chuuya’s expression was grim. If Dazai was losing track of time, he might be worse off than Chuuya originally thought— which wasn’t saying much, because, frankly, Dazai looked awful.
“How long have you got until whatever the hell is next in your ‘master plan?’”
“Hour, half hour…” Dazai’s voice was getting fainter.
“Shitty Dazai, can you even see anything right now?” Chuuya clicked his tongue and looked around. He crawled out of Dazai’s lap and sagged against the rubble next to him. He closed his eyes, trying to breathe through the pain, and opened them to see Dazai listing sideways toward him.
“Woah, hey.” Chuuya caught and lowered him as gently as he could so that Dazai was lying on his side, with his head pillowed in Chuuya’s lap. “Everything’s always gotta be on your schedule, doesn’t it?”
Chuuya reached into his pocket, and released a breath of relief when he found that, miraculously, his knife hadn’t been lost or destroyed during Corruption. He reluctantly cut open the back of Dazai’s white jacket. It was a pretty nice jacket, but it was already unsalvageable.
Then he cut through the vest and shirt. Stupid mummy and all his stupid layers, he grumbled as he reached the blood-soaked bandages. He carefully cut through the bandages, hissing as he pulled the wrappings away from the still-bleeding wound.
It was pretty bad, though not immediately fatal— that was what the poison had been for. Chuuya felt bitterness squeeze its hand around his heart.
I've gotta at least staunch the bleeding, or he’ll bleed out before there’s a chance to properly treat it.
He looked down at his ex-partner’s head in his lap. Dazai’s sweat-curled bangs stuck to his forehead, and though he lay still, Chuuya could tell Dazai hadn’t passed out yet. Somehow, and for some reason, he was still clinging to consciousness by a thread.
Stubborn bastard.
“Hey,” he mumbled with forced gruffness, squeezing Dazai’s shoulder. “Don’t you have somewhere you need to be soon? It’s my turn to keep watch for a while.” Chuuya paused, still sensing Dazai’s hesitation to give in. He rested his hand on Dazai’s head. “Take a break, Dazai.”
As that familiar sentence sunk in, Dazai finally went limp across his legs. His breathing already sounded less labored without having to put in effort to keep his eyes open. Chuuya sighed, relieved he’d be able to complete his ministrations without the dumbass being awake for it.
He’d patch Dazai up enough to hold him till the conclusion of this battle. He was still concerned about the amount of blood Dazai had lost, as well as the residual poison probably running through his veins. Hopefully his involuntary power nap would give him enough charge to sustain him till he could get proper medical attention.
Knowing Dazai and his aversion to all things medical, however, Chuuya was already resigning himself to having an uninvited guest at his apartment tonight.
Chuuya huffed, but it was tinged with fondness. The conniving mackerel always managed to rope him into his schemes.
“You owe me for this one, bastard.” But even as he said it, he finished adjusting Dazai’s bandages over his wound. He pressed two fingers against the underside of the other’s neck. His pulse was still faster than it should be, but it was a definite improvement from before.
Chuuya let his head fall back against the rubble. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, the exhaustion and pain were hitting him again. He stared off into the distance where he could see the colorful flashes of an ability-based battle ensuing. He absently brushed Dazai’s bangs out of his face— earlier roles reversed— feeling oddly content in this moment.
The corner of his lip quirked up in a tired smile. “Yeah. It’s my turn now.”