Molly's Fics Cause she Refuses to Read Them on Ao3

Stitches for a Shithead

TW/Tags: Medical Play

Chuuya squirmed a bit under Dazai's dissecting gaze as he shifted his position over the other's lap, pulling the rolling tray a little bit closer to the bed they were occupying. They were currently alone in the Port Mafia's infirmary, and the other's uncharacteristic silence paired with that unplaceable look in his eyes was making Chuuya even more irritated and uncomfortable than he already was.

"If you keep fucking staring me down like that, I'll just fucking let you bleed out here, you ungrateful brat," the smaller teen huffed, despite the fact that he was already picking up gauze scissors to cut away the ruined bandages wrapping around the other's chest.

The Port Mafia's Demon Prodigy just rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh, leaning his head back against the raised back of the infirmary bed. "Today really is the worst. Not only did I have a mission with such an incompetent sheepdog, but now it's barking at me. How absolutely dreadful! I'll have to file a formal complaint with Mori."

Suddenly, Dazai hissed in pain, glaring down at Chuuya when the other ripped the bloodied bandages surrounding his wounds off a little too roughly.

"Oops," came Chuuya's deadpan apology.

It was silent again as the ginger soaked some fresh gauze with saline and began cleaning around the deep cuts on Dazai's chest. He gave a tired sigh as he got a closer look at the three gashes. His first assessment on the battlefield was right. The fucker was gonna need a shit ton of stitches.

Chuuya set the ruined gauze off to the side, turning his attention fully to the tray of supplies he had brought over. Unfortunately, after the medical personnel left for the night, Port Mafia members were left with the options of 1) wait until morning 2) go see Mori and deal with those consequences 3) fix it yourself. Unfortunately for Chuuya, Dazai would bleed out or get an infection before morning, the mackerel would "rather swallow Elise-chan's crayons" than let Mori into his personal space, and the cuts were placed to where there was no way for the idiot to do the sutures himself.

Meaning Nakahara Chuuya had to play nurse for the night.

Absently, he felt Dazai start toying with the edges of the bandages wrapped around Chuuya's thigh as he set about putting on a pair of nitrile gloves. That was another thing that fucking sucked about this entire situation. It's not like Chuuya had gotten away uninjured himself. His thigh had a slash running from just above his knee to just below the edge of his briefs. It wasn't nearly as deep as the wounds on Shitty Dazai's chest, but it definitely wasn't comfortable either. It also definitely didn't fucking help that he was too... not tall to lean over the edge of the bed to do the sutures.

So on top of the growing headache over all the shit he would have to do tonight while being exhausted from the mission, he had to do said tasks while straddling a squirmy fucking shirtless mackerel in nothing but a blood-soaked dress shirt and black boxer briefs.

If there was a god out there besides Arahabaki, then they definitely fucking hated him.

"Ne, Doctor Chuuya ~" Dazai sang, tracing patterns where the bandages met Chuuya's pale skin. "What's my treatment plan for the night? If I'm going to be operated on by an attack dog, I want to make sure he doesn't plan to just lick my wounds."

Steel eyes glared at the bandaged bastard with a thoroughly unimpressed sneer as Chuuya tore open the sterilized packs of instruments. He was already indulging the idiot by not just leaving him to die in the first place.

"Well, Shitty patient Dazai," Chuuya mockingly sneered. "I'm gonna stab you a bunch with a needle and maybe I'll get lucky and you'll die before I finish closing the wounds."