Work Text:
Osamu took in a quick, quiet breath, as he ran through the many halls of the warehouse of Chuuya’s most recent mission.
He really wasn’t supposed to be here, but he’d heard through the Akutagawa grapevine that the slug would likely have to use corruption on this particular mission.
So that really just meant it was a suicide mission from Mori. He couldn’t say he was surprised, given how much the bastard hated any one person having friends or life stability.
He could just barely hear fighting in one of the other rooms, likely the one his slug husband was in, but he couldn’t tell for the life of him which one it was. This whole place was a maze and the room didn’t seem to have any entrances or exits of any kind.
He continued his run through the halls, at this point just going in a circle around the room he needed to get into. Was there a top entrance? A secret passageway?
He hummed, pausing at one of the walls at random and listening closer to the fighting in the next room.
“ To thee the granting of a gloomy corruption, ” he heard, Chuuya’s voice distinctive above all else.
Osamu swore quickly, desperately trying to get into the room but to no avail.
“ May ye never awaken again.”
The world went dark, collapsing all around him.
Osamu coughed violently, whole body shaking as he tried to push himself up.
His arms just gave out beneath him, leaving him to collapse once again.
He bit his lip. Where was Chuuya?
He didn’t want to be alone, not now. It’d been a long time since he’d been truly hurt like this. He was normally just hurt a little bit. A cut here, a bullet wound there. A chest injury wasn’t normally in the picture.
“Slug?” he called out hesitantly. The rubble surrounding him creaked and groaned, but the piece above his head remained stable.
“Mackerel?” Chuuya’s voice responded, seemingly far away. It was good that his partner was conscious and aware, at the very least. He honestly really hadn’t expected the slug to be able to snap out of it on his own without Osamu’s intervention. Perhaps it was the shock? Or his presence?
At the rate he was going, with the wound he hadn’t dared yet to look at, he didn’t think he would have been able to crawl over and nullify corruption, so he was grateful for that at least.
He carefully leaned back onto the ground, resting his head on a piece of rubble. He wasn’t getting up anytime soon, so he could only hope that Chuuya would be able to come to him. His head was uncomfortably light and he found that he couldn’t control the beating of his heart like he normally could. It was just fast.
From the distance, he heard Chuuya call out his nickname once again.
In response, he called his husband’s nickname back.
Call, response.
Call, response.
Call, “Chuuya?” he asked one final time, seeing the form of a person appear in the very corner of his vision.
“Osamu.”
Chuuya came up right next to him, falling to his knees in the process.
“Are you injured?” Osamu asked carefully, glancing his partner up and down in the dim light.
Chuuya shook his head, furrowing his brows and looking with a look of sheer horror at Osamu’s chest. Chuuya carefully reached out a single hand, placing it over the wound in his abdomen and pressing down.
Osamu looked up to his partner’s eyes, tears beginning to form in corners of his eyes. “I’m glad my dog isn’t injured.” He coughed harshly, entire body shaking for a moment before trying to crack a joke. “Vet bills are expensive, you know.”
Chuuya just looked away. “Cut it out, mackerel. You’re too bloody to be making jokes about my tendency to get hurt,” his partner snarked back as the blood coated his hands. Chuuya paused again, long and delicate. “You’re going to be okay, got it?”
He pursed his lips for a moment, trying his best to breathe in and out. “Yeah. I’ll be fine. I just need to see a doctor.”
“Are you sure you don’t need to see an ichthyologist?” Chuuya snarked back at him, words coming out a touch harsh, but his touch was softer than Dazai had ever gotten from his partner. “It’s rather expensive to take a fish like you to the regular doctor.”
Osmau snorted. “Good thing I have an executive as a husband, then.”
Chuuya gently pulled his husband a little closer, holding the back of Osamu’s neck up so that he could comfortably look into his husband’s eyes. “You didn’t have to come. I’ve survived without you as my work partner for years now, I could’ve done another alone.”
“I wanted to. I didn’t want to leave you alone anymore.”
Chuuya sighed affectionately at him and bent low, kissing Osamu’s forehead. “I love you, my dear mackerel.”
“I love you too, but I’m coming out of this, slug. Don’t worry about me,” he tried to reassure. Osamu weakly lifted a single hand up, grasping the side of Chuuya’s face even as his vision began to blur. “I think I just need a nap. Then, I’ll be good as new.”
“You can’t sleep, you have a head injury. Just stay with me and stop being an idiot.”
Osamu took in a deep breath, as steady and deep as he could make it despite the feeling like he needed to cough. “You should go find help. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m not leaving you. I won’t break my wedding vow, unlike you.”
Osamu pursed his lips. “Please, Chuu.”
“I swore I’d always be here. Don’t make me break that. If I’m leaving, you’re coming with me.”
He took a halted breath. “Okay, then.”
Slowly and surely, Chuuya adjusted his hands to lift Osamu up in a bridal style. “Hold onto me tight, it’s a while to get out of here.”
He didn’t bother responding, instead just gripping his partner with what little strength he had left.
His husband slowly began their walk out of the building, careful to not shake Osamu too much. As they walked, Osamu rested his head quietly against Chuuya’s shoulder.
Other than the occasional creak of the semi-collapsed building, the only noise left was the sound of the silence in his own mind. He hated it, and knew what it meant for his consciousness, but fought it nonetheless.
He couldn’t go dying on Chuuya. Not again. He’d seen how much it’d hurt the first time after he’d disappeared for all those years, he couldn’t make his partner go through that again.
He just focused on breathing through the cough in his lungs, trying his very best to ignore the darkness creeping on the edges of his mind.
“Hey, Osamu?” Chuuya eventually said, an unknown amount of time into their walk.
“Yeah?” he mumbled back.
“Thank you for trying to save me.”
“Anytime, partner,” he responded quietly and closed his eyes
Against his will, the darkness took over.
A new bottle of 89’ Pétrus got cracked open that night.
A toast.
To the stray dogs.