Work Text:
If Daisuke has learnt one thing about his partner, is that he’s a goddamn hypocrite.
He can say it with no shame or remorse, and rather, acknowledges that fact with a bitter feeling sitting at the back of his throat. Haru Katou is one of the most hypocritical persons he has ever met — because no matter how much he says he wants to protect everyone, there is always a person he seems to forget about.
It’s sad, it’s downright cruel. Daisuke watches it happen time and time again and decides that he despises it.
Like a phenomena that has been happening for eons and eons, the despicable trait his partner seems to depict has always been there: exposed for everyone to see, yet ignored by everyone nevertheless. As if it were a picture hung at the most hidden spot in the Louvre museum.
Daisuke remembers vividly the first time it happened.
It was a rainy autumn evening, and there was a certain weight hanging in the air. The millionaire was getting ready to leave and the clock had long since signed the end of his shift, making him get up from his seat and take off his HUESC sunglasses.
Grabbing his coat and slipping it on his shoulders with practiced ease, he sighed before the pounding headache he often got from using his device for too long, fully aware that he was forcing his eyes to watch a screen from very up close. He was, in all honesty, aching to leave and relax with a shower before going to bed.
With that blissful goal in mind for the night, he walked towards the door. It was out of impulse that he turned on his heel before even thinking of turning the handle, or perhaps just intuition, but he stopped dead in his tracks to wait for his partner, something he had grown used to doing, something that just came natural for him.
“Aren’t you leaving?”
Katou lifted up his gaze from the report in his hands. He was biting a ballpoint pen, and Daisuke quickly observed the way his hands would shake ever so slightly. Even so, the Inspector regarded him with a disinterested “No, go ahead without me.”
And he knew he could have done just that: leave and not stick his nose into the other’s business. But it was his partner, wasn’t it just natural for him to be mildly curious at the very least?
Daisuke walked up to him, a brow arched perfectly. Katou had returned his attention to the report, like the rest of the world did not even exist, as if he were trapped in a bubble where only work existed. It struck Daisuke how much of a hardworking guy he was — no matter what, the blond was always productive in one way or another. He always had stuff left to do.
He never stopped by to think about how concerning that could be.
“What is it?” Katou groaned, still chewing on his pen.
Daisuke shot him a glance, analysing him from the inside out. There was a certain look on his partner’s eyes as he carefully scanned over the files — as if he were reading the same thing over and over, as if he were struggling to comprehend something that would come to his mind easily otherwise. There was a half empty mug of coffee sitting on his desk, which had long since gone cold, and the millionaire could not hide the frown that appeared on his desk.
Well, Katou did have a habit of taking work way too seriously. It was nothing new, was it?
“Just looking. Am I not allowed to?”
“I really don’t care,” was the monotone answer, as the inspector took the pen from between his chapped lips and signed the report with practiced ease. It was not his signature, but it was one Daisuke did recognise. “As long as you don’t bother me.”
“The report is Kamei’s?” He asked, quite stupidly.
“Ah, yeah. He didn’t get it done in time so I’d rather do it than having the First Division guys come lecture us again.”
Daisuke couldn’t help but immediately stare at the pile of papers sitting besides the keyboard on Katou’s desk — that’s when it dawned on him, that none of the tasks at hand were his to begin with. It was to be expected, really, since nobody in their division worked as diligently as the Inspector. Only he and Daisuke ever got their work done in time.
It was just that Daisuke felt almost offended that it was Katou — hardworking, reliable Katou — that got stuck with everyone’s remaining tasks because of their own irresponsibility.
Where would the MCPTF be without him?
“I could stay a bit and help you out,” he voiced out without even processing his words. It was something he’d never thought he’d say but, then again, he guessed it was okay for him to show some consideration towards his partner.
Katou’s eyes glistened in an enticing shade of gold when he looked up at him once again. As if he almost wanted to take the shot and let Daisuke help him out — because that’s what partners do, right? At least, Haru always helps Daisuke out in everything he can, and in everything Daisuke lets him.
“No, I’m good,” the blond ended up dismissing him, even then. The millionaire would lie if he said the answer caught him by surprise. “Go home and have a good rest, we’ve had plenty of work today.”
Hypocrite, Daisuke thought, you did most of that work yourself.
And yet he knew in his gut there was no helping it. Katou was too stubborn to recede. Daisuke placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Take your own advice sometime, Inspector.”
And Katou had the audacity to hum as if he were to ever do it. As if he were going to actually listen and realise that someone was looking out for him, easing Daisuke’s worries and prompting him to leave.
So that he did, he left. The next day, Katou was already in the office when he arrived.
Daisuke told himself he had just gotten there early.
After that one time, Daisuke actually started keeping an eye on his partner in a way he hadn’t ever before.
He started to notice how work absorbed him so much, even getting to a point when he forgot to do simple tasks like eating, and the fact that he was up to every task and even handled what their coworkers could not — or rather, what the didn’t want to handle — was not helping ease Daisuke’s concern in the slightest.
Katou’s behaviour was erratic in that aspect. It was as if he were restless, for some reason Daisuke could not decipher. But again, who was he to confront him about it?
The second time the hard bucket of reality hit the millionaire’s face was on a spring afternoon.
By the time it happened, his relationship with Katou had evolved past the boundaries of a professional partnership and blossomed into what he was convinced was more than just a friendship. An overwhelming feeling that he couldn’t describe took hold of him whenever they got a bit too close and he found himself actively trying to please the Inspector as much as he would allow him: making him happy and protecting him, just like the other did the other way around.
But that was just too difficult of a task, given Katou’s stubbornness.
He remembers it so vividly in his mind that he could swear it was only a few day sago. Daisuke could feel the anxiety spiking up, a knot inside of his throat. He was running as fast as his legs would allow him, and the air couldn’t quite reach his lungs.
One moment he was running after a perp with Katou in tow. One moment there was a fight he could barely recall, his hands pinning someone to the ground a bit too harshly, people getting to safety while Daisuke tried to gather his bearings. One moment everything was okay and the situation was defused,
and yet, Daisuke still stood there, helplessly, as his partner collapsed on the ground.
Katou looked abnormally pale, almost lifeless. When Daisuke approached him, feet burning before the strain, he knelt besides his limp body and tried desperately to shake him awake. The people involved had already left, as if the situation had nothing to do with them now that the perpetrators were knocked out on the ground. As if their lives mattered more than Katou’s — Daisuke knew that was nothing but sheer stupidity.
Thankfully for his poor heart and the throat that desperately called out a certain name, Katou’s eyes fluttered open after a slap to the face woke him up. Daisuke cringed internally at the way the Inspector reached a shaky hand up to his cheek and stared up at the millionaire with a look of betrayal on his face.
“… Did I do something wrong?” He mumbled, seeming a bit clueless.
Daisuke shook his head fervently. How could he do anything wrong after saving so many — ungrateful — people? The idea that he was so ready to take the blame went through the raven’s chest like a spear, an idea so repulsive that he wanted to beat it out of his partner if need be. How dare he think such preposterous things about himself?
“I was just worried,” he said, and his honest words sounded more hostile than he wanted them to. Katou tried to get up, nodding wordlessly, but it seemed like too much of a task, and Daisuke pushed him down onto the ground. “Stay down, I’ll call a medic.”
“Don’t bother, I don’t need one.”
“You just fainted.”
“It’s not that bad, I can take it.”
“I know it’s bad. What is wrong?”
There was a moment of silence in which Daisuke’s stern gaze torn into Katou, clearly making him uncomfortable. The blond pulled his own gaze away, unable to handle more scrutiny in the deteriorated shape he was in, and his eyes closed almost immediately.
“I’m just a bit tired,” he explained, finally, taking a deep breath in resignation.
His words, in fact, did not sit right with Daisuke, who pulled out his sunglasses and put them on, asking HUESC to run a quick scan on a partner he knew wasn’t being completely honest.
Katou was an honest guy, really, but not when he was asked about himself. It was as if he avoided it like the plague, as if his wellbeing was a matter of no one’s concern and only he got to decide how hard he could push himself. Daisuke wouldn’t let him do that, no — because he cared, much to his own surprise, and there was no way he’d let anyone hurt his partner so badly. Not even himself.
“According to my scan Mr. Katou had two hours and seventeen minutes of sleep last night, and has only ingested twenty two centilitres of coffee in the past six hours. Both exhaustion and malnutrition could be at fault for his current state, Sir.”
Upon hearing the AI’s information, Daisuke took the sunglasses off. He felt weird — it was a mix of pity, concern and panic all at once. But furthermore it was anger, anger at the man that laid in front of him, all covered in bruises and eye bags so big the world’s best concealer couldn’t hide them.
“You are tired, I can see that,” he sighed, realising he couldn’t just slap sense into his partner. “Maybe you should take tomorrow off. You haven’t been off duty for quite a while now.”
Katou pursed his lips awkwardly, as if Daisuke had just told him to kill a stray kitten, something he’d never dare do. He took hold of the millionaire’s wrist — which had been cautiously hovering over his body for quite a while — and set it aside.
“No, no. I’m good. There’s been an uprise in small crimes around the city, so we can’t really afford that now.” A pause. “Maybe another week I take a few days off.”
Daisuke tried to make himself believe his partner wasn’t lying.
But, then again, Katou wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t put everyone else’s wellbeing over his, even if it was taken to a dangerous extent.
Katou is such a hypocritical, reckless idiot. He could have gotten himself killed, his mind bitterly supplied, and the possibilities of an outcome that he was thankful hadn’t happened hurt more than he’d dare acknowledge.
“Let’s go. I’m driving you home.”
Katou looked at him, sitting up with an unreadable expression on his face. He looked around, and parted his lips as if to retort.
“We’ll call other officers to handle it,” he cut in, leaving no room for discussion. “You need to eat something before you handle more physical tasks, and maybe take a nap.”
And, surely, there it was again — that look on Katou’s face. It was a look of confusion, of disorientation. The one he had when he was tying loose strands while handling a particularly difficult case, but ten times worse. It always managed to rub Daisuke the wrong way.
He did, however, not point it out.
“Okay. Right. Thanks.” Was all Katou said.
Daisuke took him into the car, drove in silence, and swallowed the myriad of bottled up frustrations as he gripped the wheel tightly. When he realised his partner had fallen asleep halfway through the ride, he didn’t dare say anything to him, and just let him be instead of scolding him like he had originally intended to.
It could wait, for now.
“HUESC, remind me to have a chat with Katou about how a single coffee is not a meal.”
“As you wish.”
Days bled into weeks that bled into months. Daisuke let time pass in blissful naiveté, roaming around the world with Haru by his side. It was fun to visit so many different places, especially because of his partner’s lack of insight about any place they found themselves in — he loved it.
Yet, of course, nothing is always that good. Following the Adollium trail was hard work. Meetings, risky encounters, undercover missions, and lots of research clouded their schedule as police officers. But it was worth it, or so Daisuke thought — they were working their asses off in order to protect the world and, truth be told, he found that relieving.
The upside to their situation was that Daisuke got to spend time together with Haru, who he knew better than to call his partner. Their relationship had turned into an undefined mess in which they kissed and hugged and yet still addressed the other with a certain distance, keeping each other at arm’s length. It was nice and the worst both at the same time.
Daisuke felt full and empty at the same time. But he could wait for Haru to be ready to put a label on them, he would never force him. He never had, for better or for worse.
In the meantime he took his sweet time learning a myriad of things about his favourite Inspector, who now lived with him in ‘their sweet little home’, referred to by many as Buckingham Palace. Common things like what shampoo he used or how he liked his morning coffee engraved themselves into Daisuke’s brain, and he quickly grew used to Haru’s cooking and the way he sat on the couch or how he liked to dress so comfortably all the time.
It felt right to be around that. As if they were meant to have such domesticity around them. Like Haru belonged by his side to stay.
But even domestic bliss has an expiration date, especially when it came to the disaster that was Inspector Katou. Daisuke’s concern for his unhealthy working habits never fully eased, even if any ‘incidents’ because of it had yet to happen. Still, he deemed it safe to keep an eye on the older detective, just in case it got bad again.
That’s when he discovered it.
It was a wintery night, one of those when the wind is strong outside and the branches of the trees bang the windows as if threatening to break the glass. Snow piled up on the railings of the balcony, yet Daisuke felt incredibly warm as he slept, cuddled by the presence of Haru hugging him from behind ever so tenderly.
He could have stayed like that forever, oblivious to the rest of the world. But, wether unfortunately or not he didn’t know, a distant light woke him up in the middle of the night. The golden clock sitting neatly on the fancy, victorian nightstand signed 3:17 in the morning, and the dim light from the bathroom seeped through the cracks of the door that led to the huge bedroom ever so slightly.
With the left size of the bed now empty, he started to feel cold. Haru never used to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night unless he had a nightmare and needed to shower immediately, which was rare and definitely not the case since he wasn’t hearing the familiar echo of water pouring down.
Daisuke figured out Haru hadn’t had much sleep so far. He had, regretfully, grown used to it. The blond had explained to him that ever since he left First Division he had struggled with insomnia, yet he had bad experiences with sleeping pills — either they left him sluggish for and unable to function properly for the whole day or they didn’t work at all —, which led him to stay awake a handful of nights. That definitely built up tension inside the millionaire, worried about his partner with a tendency to overwork, but he rapidly grew aware that Haru didn’t mind that much.
Which was worse, wasn’t it?
Most nights, Haru went to the living room in the middle of the night just to watch a lame detective drama, or went out for a walk. Sometimes he even cooked, or stayed up in bed watching over Daisuke in case he had a nightmare he needed to be waken up from. But that night he had gone to the bathroom, and for some reason, that alarmed Daisuke greatly, to an extent e wasn’t sure he wanted to admit.
Feeling only slightly stupid, he got up from the king-sized bed and approached the bathroom with hesitant steps. He took a deep breath before peeking over the doorframe, and frowned upon seeing Haru kneeling before the toilet, heaving into it and breathing so heavy Daisuke wondered how he had not heard a thing before.
“Haru,” he called out, frozen in place.
The detective was not phased in the slightest, and only waved a hand in dismissal, choking out an “I’m okay, I’m okay”, before throwing up once more. That rendered Daisuke speechless, and he pushed himself to kneel by Haru’s side and try his best to hold his blond bangs out of the way.
After a few moments in which the millionaire’s concern only grew exponentially, the Inspector finally pulled himself away from the toilet and sat straight on the floor, catching his breath. The raven kept a hand plastered to his broad shoulder, hoping to be of some comfort.
“Are you sick? What’s wrong?”
“Don’t worry,” Haru shot back, gentle as ever. He got up on shaky legs, Daisuke’s hands still hovering around his figure in case he felt ill again. “I do this sometimes.”
Daisuke stood there, unwavering, as Haru got to the sink and proceeded to wash his mouth and splash water over his face as if it were the most normal thing in the world and getting worried over it was pain silly. It made his blood boil, and he couldn’t help himself from raising his voice in a retort.
“How long has this been happening?”
Haru stared at him with an arched brow, taking a tower and wiping his face dry. “Uh… two years, maybe three. It doesn’t happen very often, so don—“
“Stop talking.” He shot those words back knowingly, aware that his partner would try to keep him away from his troubles again. Haru gave him a look, and he felt pressured to add. “Please.”
In spite of everything, Haru stayed quiet, even as Daisuke asked HUESC for a scan. The AI had been installed in every corner of the house since they moved in, just to be safe. It was highly convenient so Daisuke could dispose of his sunglasses whenever he wanted, or take off his earring when he felt the need to.
“Mr. Katou’s vitals appear to be in the spectrum of the ordinary. However, the slight variation in heart rate and the vomiting could be attributed to a case of stress-induced nausea.”
“Stress-induced, huh?” Haru laughed, a bit bitterly. “Well, there you go. I’m not sick.”
“You’re close to burning yourself out, and you act like it’s nothing.”
“Well I can’t just take a damn pill and fix this right now,” Haru’s tone rose up, as if showing off his stubbornness. “So yes, I’m gonna act like it’s nothing because that’s just what it is.”
There was a beat of hostile silence between them. Daisuke wanted to speak up, voice out his concerns, but something deep inside told him it was a bad idea. It always had been, ever since he was a child — it was a habit that he was struggling to break free from. His shoulders dropped in discouragement.
As if on cue, Haru wrapped his arms about him, almost instinctively. Daisuke felt the touch was needed and welcome, warming him up from the inside out. He hadn’t noticed how cold he was until the other’s tender touch was so close to him. It felt comforting, as if encouraging him to say what he wanted to say even if he struggled. His touch always felt just right.
“I’m sorry I woke you up,” Haru mumbled. It sounded pained. Like he should be apologising for much more but he didn’t know how.
“That’s not it,” Daisuke spoke, voice muffled against Haru’s chest. “I know keeping Adollium in good hands it’s crucial but if it’s too much I want you to take it easy. For your own sake.”
“… I’ll try my best. I promise.”
Daisuke couldn’t bring himself to call Haru a hypocrite that night, even if he wanted to. After all, he was convinced his partner was a man of his word.
It’d be okay.
True to his word, Haru slowly and surely tried to get better. Keyword is tried.
During their time abroad, he slowly started incorporating new habits into his life like doing more exercise or watching TV for more time just so he wouldn’t be tempted to do more work than what was needed. Daisuke appreciated his now boyfriend’s — he still hadn’t gotten used to how great that word sounded in his ears — efforts.
Of course, he was there for him. Old habits die hard, he knew, and he didn’t trust the detective to get off from work for much time if he was unsupervised. It’s not like Haru did it on purpose, it was almost as if his brain forced his body to it. Daisuke knew, every time they relaxed for a bit too long and Haru paced around anxiously, or bounced his leg clearly yearning to get back to work.
Yes, Daisuke had indeed fallen for a workaholic. He wasn’t too pleased about it either.
Nevertheless, Haru’s situation rapidly got a bit better. As far as he was concerned, his boyfriend was no longer dealing with a clear stress overload. He started sleeping more than he used to, although still too little time for Daisuke’s comfort, and he didn’t forget to eat anymore. Throwing up was out of the question and his usual headaches had gone down considerably.
It was great. That is, until they came back to Japan.
The changes were so subtle he didn’t even notice them at first. But then Haru’s headaches got more severe and he substituted one meal a day for a coffee. Daisuke grew painfully aware of how his eye bags — a permanent feature on his face at this point — had gotten bigger and darker, and his concern for the blond came back with a vengeance.
Days passed by in which Kamei would leave without having finished his work and Saeki dismissed handling a situation outside. Haru’s pile of bureaucracy got taller and taller and he started staying overtime again, denying even the slightest show of help from Daisuke, stuborn as ever, bargaining about how he needed his time to rest.
Because he was such a damn hypocrite. That had not changed.
The last time Daisuke struggled to come to terms with it was a spring evening.
A small fight had taken place in a nearby shopping centre and Haru had, as per usual, been the one to take the shot at calming everyone present since none of their coworkers wanted to. Daisuke had stayed at the office, busy with urgent reports about a situation regarding Adollium, material only him and Haru could handle, thus leaving the detective on his own.
Haru had looked fine that morning, when he took his jacket and left. He had grumbled the usual complaints towards his uncooperative colleagues and had — subtly — kissed Daisuke goodbye until he came back. Nothing out of their usual routine, really.
Still, the hours went by without him knowing what was going on with his partner. At first, he didn’t care about what happened at all, knowing Haru could handle whatever it was with practiced ease. But when their shift was about to end and the Inspector in question had yet to show any sign of life, he started getting concerned.
By the time he was about to ask HUESC to call him, Haru’s name popped up on his phone’s screen, as if he could read his mind, momentarily rewarding the millionaire with a relief that washed over him like holy water.
“You’re taking awfully long, Inspector.”
“Dai,” Haru huffed from the other side of the phone. “I’m not feeling too well.”
At that, Daisuke’s mouth fell shut as the situation dawned on him. It was rare for Haru to ever admit he wasn’t okay, and that made red flags pop all over the millionaire’s vision, who was aching with the need of running away in the search to find his lover and make sure he was safe.
“What’s wrong? What do you feel?” His grip on the phone tightened. “Are you injured?”
It took a bit for Haru to answer.
“I just… I don’t know, I just feel like shit,” he said, and his voice sounded close to breaking, which was greatly out of character, and all but make Daisuke feel at ease. “The fight was supposed to be easy to handle but it was so hard, and—”
“Where are you right now?”
“I’m walking home.”
“Good. I’m on my way.”
Haru stood aimlessly before the front door to his apartment, slumped in a way one could say he was almost close to tears. He looked more confused than Daisuke had ever seen him, something completely out of character for the older detective — he always knew what to do, he was the voice of reason in their department.
Daisuke was glad he made it to Haru’s home so quickly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. The blond barely reacted at the contact, turning his face to make eye contact with his boyfriend. He was basically swaying on his feet, and Daisuke kept his hand firmly in place hoping to support his weight.
“I think I lost my keys,” Haru mumbled. It was meant to show lighthearted, apparently, but his voice couldn’t hide his exasperation.
A shade of bright red that could not be considered healthy was spread all over Haru’s cheeks, while the rest of his skin looked abnormally pale. Daisuke cautiously brought the back of his hand to his partner’s forehead, and was unsurprised to find it incredibly hot. He didn’t voice it out, and instead wanted to assess the situation — Haru was full of bruises, a nasty wound in his upper arm, and incredibly feverish.
Was that too much for him to handle?
Well, for his Inspector, he would definitely try at the very least.
“Don’t worry, I have the copy of your keys with me,” he said instead.
Haru nodded wordlessly, and let himself be guided inside his home. The millionaire closed the door behind him and helped his partner take off his jacket, which proved to be too much of an effort, especially with a compromised arm. Daisuke then got rid of his tie and unbuckled his belt so he would be more comfortable, then led him to the bed and prompted him to sit down and roll up his sleeve.
It was quiet, unusually so. The silence was far from comfortable, unnerving. He was used to Haru’s snarky remarks, to his sarcasm — he was used to his kisses, teasings and sweet nothings. But that evening he was dead silent as Daisuke examined the cut on his upper arm with meticulous scrutiny before scrambling to get a first aid kit from the bathroom. Haru never used to have one of those at his disposal, but Daisuke often found himself grateful that he forced him to buy one just in case.
There’s a first time for everything, even to play caretaker. He was comfortably used to having his doting lover take care of him in his times of need, especially when Daisuke came down with a nasty cold every winter. Haru was the one who wasn’t used to show physical vulnerability — almost never got sick, and was always at the ready to take care of himself, even when he pushed his working habits to dangerous extents.
But the situation had suddenly changed, the millionaire realised, as he poured cleaning alcohol on a cloth and dabbed the wound with upmost care and attention. Haru hissed in pain every so often, but did not say a single word. Daisuke knew he probably felt embarrassed: he got his ass handed back to him because of his state, even though a mere civilian fight would usually be an easy victory for one of the most skilled police officers in Tokyo.
Pride really is Haru’s worst enemy.
Daisuke was almost done bandaging the cut when he noticed Haru was asleep on his feet, head lolling uncomfortably to the side, immersed in a slumber that seemed to be absolutely restless. Beads of sweat shone on his forehead, and Daisuke hesitantly felt the urge to brush away sweaty dark blond bangs away from it before pushing Haru’s chest down in a manner so cautious anyone would think the detective was made of glass.
Once Haru was laying on the bed in a more comfortable position, the millionaire draped a blanket over his sleeping boyfriend, careful so as to not wake him. He pondered the option of having HUESC do a scan, or simply waiting for Haru to wake up and ask him for insight. However, Haru getting sick so out of the blue made Daisuke feel more uneasy than usual, and he opted to call a doctor just to be better safe than sorry.
He closed the first aid kit with a soft click, and consciously made a list of things Haru used to do when taking care of a sick Daisuke as he waited, bracing himself for whatever could be coming the next few days.
When Haru woke up, Daisuke was standing in the kitchen, talking through the phone in a hushed tone. He heard the padded steps of feet behind him and hung up the call, scanning the blond up and down — he didn’t look any better, he noted. He had done good in calling their boss, pleading for a few days off. Haru was totally going to need those.
“What are you doing up?” He broke the ice between them in a hostile manner, unable to mask his pent up frustration. “You fool, you should be resting.”
“You’re so damn loud,” Haru spat back, sounding a bit more like his real self. Daisuke liked to think that was a good thing. “My head hurts even more now.”
“I really do want to scream at you, actually,” he said, yet his tone faded into one of resignation rather than anger, and he hoped Haru would understand he didn’t mean it. “Come here, darling.”
Without skipping a beat, the detective slowly walked towards Daisuke, albeit quite hesitantly. He melted into the embrace as if he were putty in the shorter male’s arms, and let out a sigh of contentment with every soothing circle Daisuke rubbed against his back.
“Sorry, I’m gross. This is probably contagious,” Haru mumbled, although he didn’t even try making a move as to pull away, probably too tired to even dream of it.
“You’re usually not one to apologise. I beg of you, don’t start now,” Daisuke chuckled, lightheartedly. He guided Haru to the living room with patient steps, where the Inspector insisted on sitting down before the TV instead of going back to bed. Daisuke let him, guessing it wouldn’t make a difference, and finally told him. “You’re burning up. But no, it’s not contagious, you’re not ill.”
The blond furrowed his brow, attention divided in the shitty drama that was currently playing on TV and the sky outside that let him know it was late at night already.
“I’m not?”
“No. You came down with stress-induced hyperthermia.” A look of incomprehension followed. “Basically, you worked yourself sick. Really badly, this time.”
At the lack of an answer and that look on Haru’s face — that look that dangled between discomfort and confusion, and that he was more than acquainted with — Daisuke disappeared into the kitchen, only to bring a damp cloth that he gently placed on his boyfriend’s forehead.
It must have felt absolutely heavenly, judging by the sigh of pure bliss that escaped the detective’s lips.
“You’re too much sometimes,” he grinned, waiting for a sassy retort.
He got an embarrassed “Sorry” instead. Haru definitely wasn’t in the game, that night.
“Don’t apologise, or I’ll kick you out of your own house. Don’t test me.”
“Are you serious?”
“Very. You see, I’m especially upset: my partner thinks he can solve everything on his own, so he never tells me when he’s feeling bad, even though he always pushes himself too hard. Now I need to baby him until he can function like a human being because he took things too far again.”
“Shit,” Haru said, his voice almost inaudible, barely a whisper. “I’m the worst.”
“No, you’re not. Stop saying that.” Daisuke placed a chaste kiss on the crown of Haru’s head, as if that were a good point to make. In his head, it was. Haru always kissed him like that, even when he was sick, just because he was especially needy. “You tend to do too much, of course you’d end up getting sick. It’s normal. Your body is tired, and so are you. No more self-deprecating.”
“… I am tired.”
“Rest, alright? I’ll make you some tea in the meantime,” he told him, leaving him behind with a gentle squeeze to his shoulder.
By the time he had started brewing the beverage, Haru was already asleep on the floor, still in his work clothes. Daisuke figured he should take care of that, and maybe change his bandages while he was out of it.
Daisuke felt like the most cruel, disgusting and vile man in the world when interrupting Haru’s rest. He had slept through most of the night, barely giving his boyfriend any trouble — Daisuke had gotten to sleep a total of six hours after changing Haru into the tee and the sweatpants he wore to bed and cleaning his wound once again. Even when feverish as hell, his lover was quite the compliant patient, letting Daisuke have a nice rest and only waking him up by thrashing a bit too much in his sleep.
By the time the sun had risen up, Daisuke had to (regretfully) wake the detective up, bringing him back to his miserable reality, gently shaking his shoulder until a dazed Haru sat up on the bed.
“Sorry, I know you were sleeping,” he whispered soothingly when he heard the blond groan in a mix of pain and annoyance. “I won’t take long, I promise.”
Daisuke scanned Haru’s vitals via HUESC so as to not bother him too much. His body temperature was still set at a worrying 38.7 degrees celsius. He tried not to let his grimace show as he placed the mug of tea between Haru’s clammy, shaky hands — and was surprised by the fact that he was able to bring the drink to his lips without so much as spilling a single drop.
“Why didn’t you tell me you felt bad before you left?”
If he were being honest with himself, he wasn’t looking for an answer: a part of him already knew what it would be. Haru crumbled under the pressure anyway, swallowing the tea with a look of anxiety present on his still-too-pale-for-comfort face.
“It wasn’t that bad. I didn’t want to worry you.”
“Mon chéri, please worry me next time if you must.”
Daisuke had a vague idea of how depressing the whole situation was to Haru. To take so long to defuse an easy situation and still wind up injured was already a wound to his pride, but staying home sick when he could be out there trying his best to save someone, anyone — Daisuke knew how hard it was for him. Haru was a man that always felt restless, and to take things easy and not do anything, even if it was for his own sake, ate away at him, a feeling of hopelessness threatening to consume him.
The Inspector plopped down on the mattress unceremoniously, and tugged the comforter up to his chin, clearly not wanting to talk about it. The room became quiet, unbearably so, save for Haru’s ragged panting. Daisuke retrieved a cloth from the kitchen once again.
“I left this one soaking in iced water overnight, so it should take a bit longer for it to warm up. I’ll change it every hour so you don’t overheat. Is that alright?”
Haru whined something that barely resembled Japanese words, but Daisuke assumed was a “yes”. He placed the cloth on the blond’s forehead, watching attentively how the droplets of cold water slid over his skin until they reached his neck, and stained some of his hair. Haru’s face of sheer discomfort merged into one that looked way more peaceful, and the millionaire took that as his cue to leave.
“Dai.”
“Yes, darling?”
“Could you stay around until I fall asleep?”
It was probably the way his voice sounded when he said it, so uncharacteristically weak and fragile. It reminded Daisuke of all those times he had felt absolutely miserable, for one reason or another, and Haru had let him rest in his arms until he fell into a deep sleep. His heart felt a little funny, and he didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing. He was still getting the gist of how loving relationships worked.
“Surely.”
Haru was dead to the world in a matter of seconds, with the tracing of gentle fingers through his hair and the distant sounds of the TV lulling him to sleep.
If anger was a human, that would be Haru when he woke up in the afternoon feeling arguably shittier than he had ever before. Of course, he didn’t take it out on Daisuke, but the millionaire was a witness of how he was ready to pack up and take a trip of no return to the damn afterlife.
In light of recent events, if that was a psychogenic fever, Daisuke didn’t even want to imagine the kind of stress his partner was under. Handling the menial tasks of the MCPTF, keeping his coworkers in line, travelling back and forth, handling the illegal Adollium trades, helping out with management at Kambe Corp…. The list went on and on, honestly, it was painful to think about. That, and the fact that Haru liked to take on bigger cases every now and then was enough evidence that he was going to burn out sooner or later.
Haru was under strict orders of staying in bed all day, but wrapping himself in covers resulted in his black t-shirt becoming absolutely drenched in sweat, to the point it was see through. Kicking off the cover was also a no go, since unbearable chills took over his body and had him crawling back under the sheets like a problematic dog returning home when it was hungry enough.
To top it off, his migraines had gotten worse, and Daisuke was afraid he would need a life-lasting stash of Ibuprofen in order to get rid of those.
And in case that wasn’t enough, their coworkers were still as lazy as ever, calling Haru every so often just to prompt him to help them with their work, making the poor, overworked detective get up on shaky legs to find files and reports he had previously left scattered around the house and try to make sense of them while his colleagues talked nonsense on the other side of the phone.
When Daisuke found out he was livid, and Haru was a whining mess, head plopped on top of the table, drooling over a case file in his half-asleep haze as he mumbled nonsensical words about how he wanted to take a break. He had to get rid of the phone, for starters.
Was that too much to ask? To let Haru rest for one whole day?
Wasn’t it because he was currently stuck with his feverish boyfriend, oh, his coworkers were in for it, alright.
Haru’s temperature had gone down to a solid 38.5, which wasn’t great, but was progress nonetheless. Daisuke took his chances in having him take a bath, although the Inspector was so out of it he might as well be handling a rag doll in his place. It took a titanic effort to have him sit on the toilet seat — Haru was half-lucid at best, looking absolutely miserable as Daisuke stripped him, clinically, methodically, as the bath filled behind them.
Daisuke had to half-drag him half-carry him into the bath, grabbing his shoulders ever so tenderly to lower him into the water, at which point Haru couldn’t help but sigh at the feeling of tepid liquid around his unbearably hot skin. The millionaire wondered if cold water had been a better choice, but Haru always had him bathe in tepid water when he was feverish, so he did just that.
As it turns out, water worked wonders on the detective’s tense muscles, and he slid down the bath until the bubbles almost reached his nose. Daisuke chuckled instinctively, finding it somewhat endearing, and gently helped Haru sit up in a better position, patting his cheek every now and then to keep him awake.
“Stay with me. You can do that, no?”
Haru gave a half-hearted nod in response, forcing his eyes to open and blinking a few times. Just like when they first got into the apartment, Haru was dead silent under Daisuke’s touch, letting him massage his scalp with the most expensive shampoo that had ever entered the frugal household. Every now and then, Daisuke covered his eyes with one hand and threw water over his hair to rinse it — he could have sworn his hair looked blonder. It had been so slick with sweat earlier that Haru might as well have turned into a natural brunet.
With perfectly skilled moves of his skilled fingers, Daisuke cleaned off his boyfriend’s body as if he were an expert on the matter, making sure to press down on his neck and back so as to ease some of the knots the latest bound of stress had formed. Haru felt as if he were in cloud nine, Daisuke could tell, as he heard the little blissful noises he made, completely at his mercy, something that didn’t happen often.
If only Haru allowed himself to be spoiled like this every now and then, perhaps he wouldn’t have gotten sick, he thought, bitterly.
After a few minutes, he eventually rinsed him completely and got him out the tub. Haru shivered helplessly even under a thousand fluffy towels — the store-bought kind, the ones that smell like the cheap lavender detergent Daisuke loved so much —, urging the millionaire to dry him off quickly.
Daisuke was half-way through drying his messy blondish locks when he heard it.
“Sorry.”
There it was, again.
“Haru, listen, I know you find this embarrassing, but trust me when I say you’re the only one holding this against yourself.”
“I brought this upon myself, but you’re wasting your time looking over me. I’m so bothersome.”
Daisuke chuckled, almost incredulously. “You’re probably the least bothersome man I’ve ever met. Even all-mighty heroes like you get sick, you’re human, it’s only logical for your body to crumble under the stress you put it under.
At the end of the day, you’re nothing but a man.”
“That’s basically the problem,” Haru huffed.
“How is that a problem? No matter how strong you are, you’re not invincible,” Daisuke shot back. “But you act as if you were, always giving and never taking. It’s exhausting to see the most important person in my life get trapped in his own mind because he wants to take on everything. You’re stuck inside the cage of your own hypocrisy.”
“You’re not getting it,” Haru said after a while. Daisuke stood before him with a patient expression on his face, waiting for him to speak. It was the first time the detective had even tried to open up about this constant issue and the need to hear what he had to say ate away at Daisuke’s brain. “A few years back I used to be someone who could do everything, someone who actually did something. But then I fucked up real badly and I got humbled down to the mess I actually am.
If I worked less than I do right now, a lot of things would be a disaster. At first I knew I was overworking, I did it on purpose. I wanted to drown out the guilt inside of me. But now I need to feel like I’m still useful, so I don’t even notice. It’s natural to me, I can’t help it.”
“Haru, look at me.”
“Would I still be worth it if I didn’t do the things I do now?” His voice broke, and Daisuke’s heart followed suit. “Am I doing enough, even?”
“I said look at me,” the millionaire reiterated, croaching down until they were at eye level and he could cup Haru’s sizzling cheeks with his cold hands. “Of course you’d be worth it. You’re enough now, and you always have been. You don’t need to hurt yourself just to prove your worth, and you definitely don’t have to take everything you do on your own. Are we not partners?”
“I just don’t want to be a burden to you, or anyone.”
“You’d never be one. Stop thinking like that before I actually punch you for it.”
Haru laughed at that last comment, then closed his eyes as he enjoyed the cold sensation of Daisuke’s fingers against his hot skin. His stomach growled, and the millionaire finally caught up on the fact that Haru had barely eaten so far. He still had a pending chat with his boyfriend about his tendency of skipping meals and the unhealthily large amounts of coffee he ingested every day.
With a long, dragged sigh, Haru mumbled something about feeling tired again. Daisuke took that as his cue to prepare some food before he laid the Inspector to rest.
“You’re taking a break from work as soon as we get the chance to,” he announced, standing up again. He held out his hand, hoping to be of some assistance, and let Haru decide if he wanted to take it or not, never forcing him to do anything he didn’t want.
The blond ended up taking it, albeit hesitantly.
“Alright.”
“For now we’re gonna get something for you to eat.”
“… Sure. As long as you’re not cooking, sweetheart.” Haru’s teasing grin was back, although weak, and yet brighter than ever. “I wouldn’t want to get worse.”
That happened so long ago it almost feels like it was a daydream.
Daisuke often remembers the many times in which his partner, ever the whirlwind of a man he has always been, decided to throw away his own wellbeing so he could tend to other tasks.
Haru, even to this day, still regards himself as nothing short of a tool.
The damn hypocrite still is pretty much a petulant workaholic, even though sometimes he gains a little bit of self-awareness that helps him actively avoid working himself to death. Daisuke helps, obviously, trying to be as supportive as he can, because that’s just how it works, as repulsive as it is. That’s how things are supposed to be:
Haru protects everyone, but always happens to forget about one person in the most cruel and despicable form possible: himself.
But, isn’t that what Daisuke is there for? Keeping his lover safe even when he can’t’
As the days go by, he slowly grows used to it. He lets Haru take care of him like he always has, lets him bury himself into work until he can barely see the surface and then, when things start getting sticky, steps in like a guardian angel, preventing Haru from throwing himself to waste any longer. Keeping him safe from his worst enemy, needless to say who that is.
Yes, that’s right, Daisuke Kambe has fallen in love with a trainwreck of a man.
The guy is bathed in hypocrisy and self-loathing. He’s stubborn as a mule, and takes things to heart a bit too much.
Nevertheless, that’s fine with him.
Haru enters through the door, looking dead on his feet. Daisuke comments how his eye bags make him look like a panda, and the detective chuckles tiredly before throwing his jacket away and plopping on the bed, unable to sustain his own weight anymore. The millionaire sits by his side on the bed, and gently takes the file on Haru’s hands, putting it away from his reach.
“… I’ll get that done tomorrow,” comes Haru’s silky voice, muffled by the pillow.
Daisuke hums in approval, tenderly rubbing his husband’s — yes, that’s right — shoulders and carding his fingers throw dar blond locks of hair. For now, the rest of the world could wait.
Its hero needs a break sometimes, too.
And that was exactly what Daisuke would make sure of, no matter what.
He married a fucking hypocrite, alright, but he couldn’t care less. Tending to his husband was not a burden in his eyes.
After all, as long as his beloved Inspector is fine at the end of the day, Daisuke couldn’t be more content.