[Chuuya didn't jump. He did startle a bit, but really, the fact that Dazai was awake after all really shouldn't surprise him. He should have pinched his nose again, just to check.

He glared at him as he walked back over with the first aid kit.]

No, because you couldn't ask, because you'd been knocked out by some lowlife thugs. You might want to die, but even you wouldn't want to look that pathetic doing it.

[He sat on the edge of the bed, hestiating a bit. This was going to be awkward.]

Can you get your clothes off? I need to clean your wounds so you'll stop bleeding all over my sheets. [A pause.] And do you need a bucket?

You always had shitty tastes.

[Chuuya wasn't remotely fooled by the playful tone of voice. It's not (just) that he knew Dazai too well to trust that nonchalant attitude, it's that anyone who'd been knocked out was going to have a raging headache. No exceptions. Not even for asshole traitors.

There was some satisfaction in that.

But if he was treating him, he was going to do it right. Might as well get him some painkillers.]

Get the rest of it off, too, or I'm cutting it off.

[...Dazai was right about the knives.

And since Dazai seemed to be managing to get his clothes off without help, Chuuya got up again to go get him a glass of water from the kitchen. He found a bucket as well, returning with both a few moments later, and dug painkillers out of the kit for him.]

They really got you good, huh.

Shut up. [If he'd been holding something at that point, he would have thrown it at Dazai, injuries be damned.] No one wants to see that, you slimy rotten mackerel.

[Don't make him think about anything like that, when he's trying to just focus on first aid.]

And for the record, I never have trouble getting laid.

[So there.

And he had planned on giving Dazai an extra painkiller, but now he stuck to the recommended dosage instead, slipping the rest of the pack into his back pocket to keep Dazai from getting his hands on it.

When he started cleaning the wound on Dazai's leg, though, he wasn't any rougher than he needed to be. Unfortunately, that still wasn't gentle, since there was dirt trapped beneath the skin and he needed to make sure to get it all out. It was easier to look at the wound than Dazai's face, at least. He was starting to regret his decision to bring him here.

He could have just dumped him outside his little Agency for someone to find.]

The only thing they could have done better was cause you more pain. They should have taken their time with it.

Then don't bring it up!

[You totally brought it up first, Dazai.

Chuuya was thorough cleaning the wound, not at all caring that he was hurting him, because he knew an infection would hurt worse. Besides, Dazai did deserve it. That and worse. Chuuya just didn't want else be to one to inflict that pain.]

At least one of them. Probably two. [He didn't check, he just got them out of the way.] I can get someone to check.

[And anyone still alive could be questioned to figure out what the hell Dazai's plans were.]

[Chuuya would send someone, just because he liked making sure his messes were taken care of. And because he could never pass up a chance to figure out even the slightest clue about Dazai's plans. He'd take care of this, first, though, his current focus entirely on making sure his damn ex-partner was okay.

So he could use it against him later, of course. No other reason.]

If you'd been armed, this wouldn't have happened.

[Weak, Dazai. Chuuya paused what he was doing to let Dazai lie down again, then pressed a bandage on top of the first wound. He moved on to the injuries to Dazai's chest - that giant bruise looked bad, but there wasn't much he could do about it.]

Or if you'd had backup, since you're determined to be useless.

[Not that he worries, of course.]

So you should have brought backup. Or can't you rely on anyone in that little Agency of yours?

[Does he sound bitter? He's totally not bitter.

He presses his hands gently on top of Dazai's ribs, to feel if anything is obviously broken. There won't be much he can do if there is - he'd need to actually get someone else in - but lucky for Dazai, he can't find anything. So even if a rib or two is cracked, it's not life threatening. Probably. There's nothing to potentially poke through his lungs or skin, at least.]

You shouldn't drink when you probably have a concussion.

[That's never stopped either of them before. But he's in Mom Mode now.]

Can you roll over? I need to check the back of your head.

Then use them, idiot.

[Because Dazai isn't someone who can be taken down by just any ragtag group of losers. He's Chuuya's personal thorn, and he doesn't get to die until Chuuya decides it's time. So he didn't care much about the reasons why - he could guess, though it was impossible to say with his asshole of an ex-partner - he just cared that it was careless.

When they'd worked together, if Dazai had decided to deal with something like this on his own, Chuuya would have found a way to follow if he could. Because Dazai couldn't be trusted to take care of himself.]

I'm being nice for not strangling you.

[He definitely hadn't expected Dazai to roll towards him, and to curl so close to his body. Chuuya didn't know what to do for a second - but he had a job here, so he leaned over him, fingers gently brushing away hair to check his skull. He was bleeding where he'd been hit, but it wasn't deep.

So he set about cleaning it, a bit more gentle now.]

[Chuuya couldn't be exactly be considered to see his men as nothing but pieces to be used. He was protective of them. He would die for them if he had to. But in his experience, death was unavoidable, and everyone had to be prepared for the possibility, every day. He didn't want to lose any of his men, but he knew he would - it was part of being a leader.

And he knew Dazai never hesitated to use them before, so what had changed? If he actually cared about that pathetic group when the rest of them had been so easy to discard for him, Chuuya might never forgive him.

He took his time with the wound, and even found himself rubbing Dazai's scalp slightly, to help with the headache he knew he must have. He stroked the hair away from his face, so that when he wrapped bandages around his head, the strands wouldn't bother him.]

You should sleep, but I'll have to check on you every few hours.

[He stayed still while Dazai was wrapped around him, though.]

[Chuuya didn't know what to say to that. It was nostalgic, but he didn't want to admit it. Not when it was only an illusion that he'd ever had it in the first place. Dazai had played him for a fool, then left when he got bored; he was probably doing the same now.

He ended up not saying anything at all. He helped Dazai off with his pants so he'd be comfortable, pulled a blanket over him, and then left.

He spent the next couple of hours unable to relax. He put on a mindless action movie, and spent most of the time glancing at his own bedroom door. He couldn't focus, and it was a relief when he could finally go wake Dazai up again. He didn't know what to do with himself, with his ex-partner sleeping so close by.

And as it turned out, he shouldn't have been trying to relax at all.

Chuuya noticed the pills almost immediately. It took a split second to realize the implications, and then he ran over to Dazai's side, shaking him awake.]

Dazai? Dazai, you asshole, wake up.

[Did he sound worried? Because he was actually worried. He pressed two fingers to Dazai's wrist to check the strength of his pulse, wondering if he should be calling a doctor.]

If you die in my bed, I'll kill you.

[Chuuya never thought he'd be relieved by Dazai insulting him, but if he was conscious that was a good sign. He still wasn't convinced he was okay, not sure how dangerous taking that many painkillers was, or how quickly any serious symptoms would show.]

You need to throw up.

[He just wasn't sure how to make him, since he wasn't about to stick his fingers down Dazai's throat. Not unless he absolutely had to. Maybe movement would be enough, if he was still dizzy. Chuuya grabbed him, pulled, twisted him onto his stomach with his head hanging over the edge of the bed. Then he kicked the bucket under his face.]

Make yourself vomit. I'm calling a doctor.

[Someone he knew wouldn't ask too many questions. Someone he knew could be trusted. He pulled out his phone before Dazai could object, and started dialling. He was worried. He hated this kind of worry. He should be used to it from Dazai, he shouldn't even care, but the asshole always did this to him. Shit.]

[If Dazai was present enough to protect his own privacy, that was a good sign. Chuuya still wanted to call, to ask for advice even if he didn't ask the doctor to come, but after a moment's hesitation he decided to do what Dazai said and hang up.

He sat next to Dazai on the bed again, sighing, trying not to be too upset. It wasn't as if it was surprising.]

Why the hell do you always do this?

[Or something like it, anyway.

He could at the very least use his phone to go online, check how dangerous that amount of pills was. He could have done that from the start, but he'd panicked, too reminded of all the times Dazai had talked about killing himself. Chuuya had yelled in his face once that there was no way he'd ever let him.]

[Chuuya looked down into the bucket (yep, gross), relieved to see at least some of the pills came back up. He was a bit more gentle this time as he grabbed Dazai and rolled him back over, supporting him with one arm behind his back as he held out the glass of water with his other.]

You're still the one who owes me. [He was a bit less panicked now (google said the pills wouldn't kill him), which meant he could think beyond just 'what the hell do I do?'] You knew I'd react like that, so there's no way I'm apologizing.

[Dazai was still fucking with him. Still playing his games, still trying to get reactions out of him for fun. And Chuuya was letting him. He'd let his guard down. With Dazai.

Why the hell was he doing this again?]

Don't you ever stop?

[He knew the answer to that.]