Tummy Aches Come To Even Mafia Execs...

– Tomi… – Chuuya’s voice was a raspy whisper, barely audible above the soft hum of the humidifier Tomi had set up.

Tomi, perched on the edge of the bed, a cool cloth pressed to Chuuya’s feverish forehead, hummed in response, his dark eyes filled with a concern he’d never show anyone else.

– What is it, Chuuya? Do you need more water? Another blanket?

Chuuya shifted restlessly under the blankets, his ginger hair plastered to his temples with sweat.

– No… it’s not that.

He swallowed hard, a grimace distorting his features. Tomi waited patiently, his gaze unwavering. He knew Chuuya well enough to recognize the subtle signs of discomfort, the way his brow furrowed, the slight clenching of his jaw.

– I… I need a bath.

Tomi blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing his usually impassive face. Chuuya, even at his most vulnerable, was meticulous about his appearance. But given the past few days, a bath seemed like a monumental undertaking. He’d been wracked with chills, then sweats, then a stomach bug that had left him pale and weak. The idea of him even standing for long enough to shower was laughable, let alone managing a full bath.

– A bath? – Tomi repeated, his voice carefully neutral. – Are you sure, Chuuya? You’re still quite weak.

Chuuya let out a frustrated sigh, a sound that quickly devolved into a hacking cough. Tomi instinctively reached for the glass of water on the nightstand, holding it to Chuuya’s lips. Chuuya took a small sip, then pushed it away.

– I know I’m weak, damn it! – He snapped, though the fire in his eyes was significantly dimmed by his illness. – That’s why I’m asking. I feel… disgusting. And I stink.

Tomi’s lips twitched slightly, a ghost of a smile. He knew Chuuya’s pride extended to even his personal hygiene. And truth be told, while Chuuya didn’t exactly ‘stink,’ he certainly wasn’t at his usual pristine level of cleanliness.

– Alright, – Tomi said, his voice soft, almost tender. – I’ll draw one for you. But you’re not getting in alone.

Chuuya’s blue eyes, usually so sharp, widened slightly.

– What do you mean, ‘not getting in alone’? – He asked, a hint of suspicion in his tone.

Tomi met his gaze, his own eyes serious.

– You can barely stand, Chuuya. You’re dizzy, and you’re still running a fever. I’m not going to let you risk falling and hurting yourself. I’ll help you in and out, and I’ll be right there if you need anything.

Chuuya stared at him for a long moment, the anger that usually flared at any perceived slight conspicuously absent. He knew Tomi was right. He felt like a sack of bricks, and the thought of navigating the slippery bathroom floor filled him with a quiet dread. He hated being so helpless. He hated relying on anyone, especially for something so personal. But he also knew, deep down, that Tomi was the only person he would ever trust with something like this.

– Fine, – Chuuya grumbled, looking away, a faint blush creeping up his neck. – But don’t you dare tell anyone about this, Tomi. Not a soul.

– My lips are sealed, – Tomi promised, a genuine smile finally gracing his features. – Now, let’s get this done.

Tomi moved with quiet efficiency, heading to Chuuya’s en-suite bathroom. He ran the bath, testing the water temperature with his elbow until it was just right – warm, but not scalding. He added a few drops of a calming lavender essential oil, hoping it would help Chuuya relax. He laid out fresh towels, a soft washcloth, and a clean change of clothes. He even found Chuuya’s favorite expensive bath salts, scattering them into the swirling water.

When he returned to the bedroom, Chuuya was still lying in bed, looking a little more anxious than before.

– The bath is ready, – Tomi announced, his voice gentle. – Can you sit up for me?

Chuuya pushed himself up slowly, wincing slightly as his muscles protested. Tomi moved to his side, offering a steadying hand. Chuuya leaned heavily on him, his arm wrapped around Tomi’s waist, as Tomi guided him towards the bathroom. Each step was a struggle, and Chuuya’s breathing was shallow and uneven.

– Are you alright? – Tomi asked, his voice laced with concern.

– Just… a little lightheaded, – Chuuya mumbled, his head resting against Tomi’s shoulder.

Tomi tightened his grip, his strong arm a comforting anchor. They finally reached the bathroom, and the warm, steamy air enveloped them. The scent of lavender was subtle but soothing.

– Take your time, – Tomi said, helping Chuuya to sit on the edge of the tub. – I’ll turn away while you…
– No, – Chuuya interrupted, his voice surprisingly firm. – Just help me.

Tomi paused, his dark eyes meeting Chuuya’s. There was no embarrassment in Chuuya’s gaze, only a raw vulnerability and a quiet trust. It was a trust Tomi cherished more than anything. He nodded, then carefully began to unbutton Chuuya’s shirt. His movements were slow and deliberate, his touch feather-light. He helped Chuuya remove his clothes, making sure to avoid any unnecessary exposure. Chuuya, for his part, was surprisingly compliant, his usual fiery pride subdued by his illness.

Once Chuuya was finally stripped down, Tomi gently guided him into the warm water. Chuuya gasped softly as the heat enveloped him, a small sigh of relief escaping his lips. He leaned back against the tub, his eyes closing for a moment.

– That… that feels good, – he murmured, his voice softer now.

Tomi knelt beside the tub, taking the washcloth and wetting it. He gently began to wash Chuuya’s hair, his fingers working through the ginger strands with a practiced ease. Chuuya tilted his head back, allowing Tomi to work, his eyes still closed. The quiet domesticity of the moment was almost surreal. Tomi, the feared Port Mafia executive, kneeling by a bathtub, washing the hair of another executive, who was usually his equal in strength and ferocity.

– You’re being very quiet, – Chuuya said, his voice a little stronger.

– Just focusing, – Tomi replied, a small smile playing on his lips. – Don’t want to get soap in your eyes.

He rinsed Chuuya’s hair thoroughly, then moved on to his shoulders and arms, his touch gentle but firm. Chuuya relaxed further, the tension slowly bleeding out of him. The warm water, the soothing scent, and Tomi’s steady presence were a potent combination.

– You know, – Chuuya began, his eyes still closed, – you didn’t have to do all this, Tomi.

– Of course I did, – Tomi said, his voice unwavering. – You’re sick, Chuuya. And you asked for my help. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Chuuya was silent for a moment, then he let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh.

– You’re… an idiot, – he said, but there was no malice in his voice, only a hint of affection.

Tomi chuckled softly.

– Perhaps. But I’m your idiot.

Chuuya opened his eyes, a small, genuine smile gracing his lips. He looked at Tomi, his blue eyes sparkling with something akin to gratitude, and something else… something deeper, more complex. Tomi met his gaze, and for a fleeting moment, the air between them crackled with an unspoken understanding. It was a moment suspended in time, a fragile bubble of intimacy in the midst of a world of violence and shadows.

Tomi continued to wash Chuuya, his hands moving over his back, his chest, his legs. He was meticulous, making sure every inch was clean, but always with a respectful distance. He never lingered, never made Chuuya feel exposed or uncomfortable. It was an act of pure, unadulterated care.

When he was finished, he helped Chuuya out of the tub, wrapping him in a large, fluffy towel. Chuuya shivered slightly, even though the bathroom was warm.

– Let’s get you dressed, – Tomi said, his voice gentle.

He helped Chuuya into a fresh pair of soft pajamas, then guided him back to the bed. Chuuya practically collapsed onto the mattress, pulling the blankets up to his chin. He looked exhausted, but also cleaner, more relaxed, and a little less pale.

– Thank you, Tomi, – Chuuya said, his voice barely a whisper, his eyes already drifting shut. – Really.

Tomi sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to brush a stray strand of ginger hair from Chuuya’s forehead.

– Get some rest, Chuuya, – he said softly. – I’ll be right here.

Chuuya nodded, his breathing evening out as he drifted off to sleep. Tomi watched him for a long time, the quiet rhythm of Chuuya’s breathing the only sound in the room. He reached out and gently took Chuuya’s hand, his thumb stroking the back of it. The touch was light, almost imperceptible, but it was filled with a depth of emotion that Tomi rarely allowed himself to show.

He knew Chuuya was aware of his feelings. He’d seen the subtle glances, the way Chuuya sometimes lingered a little longer than necessary, the way his anger softened only for him. He also knew Chuuya was a complicated man, a man who had built walls around himself higher than any skyscraper. But in moments like these, when Chuuya was vulnerable and trusting, Tomi allowed himself to hope.

He wasn’t sure what the future held for them. He wasn’t sure if Chuuya would ever fully reciprocate his feelings. But for now, just being here, being able to care for Chuuya, was enough. He would endure the coldness, the rudeness, the endless parade of women, if it meant he could have these quiet, tender moments. He would wait. He would always wait for Chuuya.

As Chuuya slept, a faint smile on his lips, Tomi remained by his side, a silent guardian, a devoted shadow. The scent of lavender still lingered in the air, a gentle reminder of the intimacy they had just shared. And in that quiet room, amidst the lingering effects of illness, a different kind of warmth began to bloom, slow and steady, like a fragile flower pushing through concrete. A warmth that promised something beautiful, something real, if only they were brave enough to reach for it.