OTP week 2017
Pairing: Taichi and Yamato (Taiyama)
Prompt: Profession AU
A/N: There's some 3rd person limited PoV changes in this, but I'm not entirely sure how they work. It shouldn't be confusing, but please let me know if it is.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Yamato started to blink his eyes open. It was too bright, so he closed them again with a small groan.
"Yamato Ishida?"
Blue eyes parted at the familiar name coming from an unfamiliar voice.
A brunet with large hair was standing to his right. He himself was lying down. He frowned at that. Hadn't he been walking home? Where was he anyway?
"Ishida?" The same unfamiliar voice as before; so it had been the brunet to speak his name earlier.
"You called?" Came yet another unfamiliar, though feminine, voice.
"Yeah." The brunet. "He's awake, but he doesn't seem to be responding much."
"Oh dear." A dark-haired woman in white came into Yamato's line of sight. "He might just be confused." She turned to look at something above Yamato's head.
"Who?" Yamato croaked out, not at all pleased with the unfamiliar situation.
"Ah, sorry." The man spoke again. Yamato noted he was wearing a dark blue uniform—a police officer, by the look of things. "My name's Taichi Yagami and I'm the officer in charge of your… situation."
Yamato frowned, but was offered water by the woman before he could ask about 'his situation.' He sipped the cool liquid through a straw standing in a glass. He was glad he didn't have to sit up to drink; he felt quite sluggish.
Throat soothed, Yamato coughed lightly before asking: "What situation?"
The woman—nurse, Yamato realised—placed a hand on Yagami's shoulder. "I'll leave this to you, Officer. He seems to be fine, but please call me again if you need to."
Yagami nodded curtly and thanked her as she left the room. The door closed.
"What situation?" Yamato repeated.
"Well," Yagami started, pulling up an uncomfortable-looking plastic chair. "You were involved in an accident. That's why you're in hospital now." He paused, observing Ishida's reaction. He was watching for any signs of recognition or panic. Neither. He plunged on: "You were on your way home from the supermarket and were hit by a car."
The blond frowned.
"You don't remember?" Yagami asked, careful of not taking his eyes off the pale, though slightly bruised, face.
"No…" Yamato answered slowly. He was unsure.
Yagami pulled out a small notebook and jotted something down.
"You remember being in the supermarket?"
A nod. Another note.
"Leaving the store?"
"Yes."
Noted.
"How much of the walk home do you remember?" Then Taichi decided to change his approach: "You were going home, right?"
"Yeah, I was going home…" Ishida paused, clearly thinking about the events of just a few hours ago. "I was almost home, I know that." His words were careful and he seemed to be speaking more to himself than to Taichi. "I don't…" Ishida shook his head slowly. "I… It…" Again the head of blond hair moved from side to side.
"Don't push it." Taichi smiled, reaching out to place a tanned hand over a paler one. He pulled back and straightened his posture. "It was a hit-and-run. There were no witnesses, but we can usually find enough evidence at the scene to convict someone. You got lucky: no broken bones, no internal bleeding, no brain damage—the slight lapse in memory you're having now is pretty common. You just have some heavy bruising, various cuts—thought nothing big—and a fractured wrist."
Taichi watched as Ishida's eyes widened, flying to his left wrist. Apparently, he hadn't even realised that the wrist was wrapped up. The painkillers were doing their job.
"The doctor wants to keep you here overnight, but you'll be released tomorrow, since you didn't suffer any major damage."
According to the doctor's report, Ishida had taken most of the impact on his left arm. The bruising from the collision was limited to the blond's right thigh and hip.
"Either you managed to avoid the car, for the most part, or it managed to avoid you slightly."
"Who found me?"
The brunet was taken aback by the abruptness and intensity of the question, but his five years in the police force had taught him how to recover from instances like this quickly.
"An elderly woman who was on her own way to the supermarket. She called the ambulance, who then got in touch with my department."
The poor woman had been frantic when she had dialled the emergency number. She had no idea what to do, or if the young man lying on the curb was even alive. His groceries had been unsalvageable.
"I see."
Ishida 's eyes strayed off, processing all the information he had received. He still couldn't remember the collision, or if he had even noticed a car coming at him.
"Sorry, but can you please just confirm that your name is Yamato Ishida?"
"Yes."
"And your father is Hiroaki Ishida?"
"Yes."
Yagami frowned, which immediately set alarm bells ringing in Yamato's head.
"He's okay, right?"
Again, the brunet seemed taken aback by the question.
"Oh, yeah, he's fine." Yagami waved a hand, brushing off Yamato's worries. "It's just that we tried calling him earlier—we found his number on your phone under the 'in case of emergency' contact. The call wouldn't connect."
"Hn." Yamato said, heavily leaning back into the flat hospital pillow. "He's been abroad on business for a few days and was returning today. He might have been on the plane."
"Ah, I see." Yagami jotted something down in his notebook. "I'll try contacting him again, then." He stood from the chair, but hesitated. "Anyone else I should contact? Wife?"
Yamato shook his head, eyes falling shut.
"Girlfriend?"
"'M gay." Yamato mumbled out.
A few seconds of silence followed by: "Should I contact your boyfriend, then?"
A drowsy: "No one."
"Alright. Get some more rest. I'll come back to see you later."
"Hn."
Yamato never heard the officer leave the room.
-o-
"Yamato?"
Again with the voices. Tough this time the voice was familiar: his father.
Yamato opened his eyes, seeing the familiar figure sitting next to his bed. He mouthed the word 'dad,' but no sound came out, which caused him to groan lightly.
"Here." His father reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the glass with a straw. He waited as Yamato sipped at the drink, putting the glass back when Yamato released the straw. "Better?"
"Yeah, thanks."
Hiroaki inspected his son's paler-than-usual face. There was light bruising and scrapes on the left side, where it had hit the pavement. The blue eyes, normally bright and clear, were slightly dulled; probably due to the painkillers.
"Is it really that bad?" Yamato asked with a cringe, snapping Hiroaki out of his inspection.
"Ah, no, sorry." Hiroaki shook his head before smiling at his son. "It's not really that bad, considering how bad it could have been." His smile turned teary. "I'm just so glad you're alive."
"Yeah," Yamato smiled back. "Me too."
Hiroaki reached over and took Yamato's uninjured hand into his. He had never been one to show much affection, especially not physically. He had always been uncomfortable doing so, but now it seemed so natural. He didn't even pull back and break the hold when someone knocked on the door.
"Ishida?"
"Yes?" The two Ishida males asked simultaneously.
A police officer entered, looking sheepish as he stepped further into the room. "Sorry. Yamato?"
Hiroaki released his hold and stood, turning to face the brunet, expectant.
"I'm Officer Taichi Yagami, we spoke on the phone earlier."
The two shook hands and Hiroaki noted the firmness of the young officer's grip. He could be trusted.
"Right, thanks for getting in touch with me."
Hiroaki threw a quick, questioning glance at Yamato.
Satisfied with the answering miniscule nod, he headed for the door that Yagami had just come in through.
"I'll leave you two to it, and go grab something to eat." His eyes went to his son. "I'll be back in a bit."
Yamato nodded and watched as his father left, closing the door.
Yagami took the abandoned chair and flipped open his small notebook again. He paused, eyes scanning Yamato's face.
The silence was uncomfortable, but Yamato didn't know how to break it. Lying down, he didn't have much choice of where to look. In fact, Yagami seemed the only possible option.
"Are you feeling better?" The officer finally asked, breaking the silence.
"Uh, yeah." Yamato muttered, eyes flitting from Yagami's face to the far corner of the room. The intensity in the brown eyes was just too much. He wasn't a suspect; why was he being scrutinised to this extent?
"Good." Yagami smiled, sitting back and relaxing. "It's already getting late; visiting hours are almost over, so I won't keep you for long so that your father can visit with you before he has to leave."
"I was supposed to have made him dinner."
Yamato had spoken mostly to himself, but obviously Yagami had heard, too. The officer looked confused, so Yamato clarified:
"The supermarket, walking back." He shifted his position, noting the slight sting in his left wrist as he put pressure on it. "I had gone shopping to get ingredients for dinner. Dad was going to be arriving in the late afternoon and I wanted to have food ready for him. Now he had to go to the cafeteria. Or vending machine."
Yamato didn't even know why he was talking. So his father had to have crappy ready-made meals instead of Yamato's home-made ones. Big deal. Logically, it shouldn't have bothered Yamato as much as it did, but…
A gentle hand on his startled Yamato out of his musings. His eyes flew to warm brown ones, full of understanding.
"It wasn't your fault, okay?"
Blue eyes widened.
"What?" Yamato was baffled. Of course it was his fault; he was the one that hadn't made dinner.
The tanned hand squeezed.
"I know you might not be thinking it consciously, but this happens to pretty much everyone. All victims start blaming themselves, no matter what the situation."
Yamato frowned at Yagami's logic. Why would Yamato blame himself for someone else almost driving him over? Of course, he should have been paying more attention. He had been so focussed on the meal he would cook. And just because the light was green, it didn't mean that he could cross without looking both ways.
Okay, so maybe part of the fault lay with Yamato, too…
Another squeeze. "It really wasn't your fault, but you will blame yourself because you're the victim and it's what you all do."
Yamato swallowed heavily, the corner of his eye stinging. But there was no need to cry. He refused to. He didn't blame himself; it didn't make sense for him to. How did one stop him or herself from crying again? Keeping his eyes open would dry them, causing tears as a defence mechanism. Blinking rapidly would cause the wetness to escape his eyes. Squeezing his eyes shut would mean admitting defeat.
"Hey." Yagami leaned closer as he said it.
The other hand wrapped around Yamato's as well. What the hell did he do with that little notebook of his?
"Hey," Yagami repeated. "It's okay."
What was he talking about?
"Don't cry."
Oh.
Yamato suddenly realise that he was indeed crying. He didn't know why, but that didn't mean he could just stop.
The hands continued to hold, neither squeezing nor gripping; they were just a comforting weight. It seemed to help, as, after a minute or two, the tears slowed significantly.
"Sorry." Yamato said, voice slightly choked.
Yagami just smiled, releasing the pale hand and reaching into a pocket for a packet of tissues. "Don't worry about it; like I said, it's normal for people in your position to react like this."
"Thanks." Yamato took the offered tissue and dried his face.
"Alright?" Yagami asked, head cocked.
"Yeah, sorry."
Yagami just brushed the apology off, reaching into another pocket for the missing notebook. His eyes flicked to the clock: a bit past eight. Visiting hours were over at nine…
"Listen," The notebook flipped open, brown eyes inspecting the contents even though they knew exactly what was written on the page. "The man that hit you with his car has gotten in touch with us."
Yamato's eyes flew to Yagami's face. The other man was still looking at his notebook, so Yamato couldn't read his eyes. His face was blank.
"He panicked when he hit you and fled the scene. He felt guilty, though, so he contacted the department." At this point Yagami looked up. "He's willing to accept all charges, if you want t—"
"No." Yamato lowered his gaze, staring at Yagami's right knee. "I don't want to make a big deal about it. I'm fine, so it's not worth making a big fuss."
"Right, that's that sorted, then. But we will still fine him and he will be covering your hospital bills, including any follow-ups or therapy, if you want it."
Narrowed blue eyes met brown again. "Why would I need therapy?"
Yagami shrugged, pocketing his notebook again. "Like I said, victims tend to blame themselves for these things, so it's always offered. You don't have to accept, if you don't feel like you need it." He stood, hesitating for a second before pulling out the notebook yet again. "I'll just head off and give you a chance to see your father again, before visiting hours are over. But," He opened the notebook to a blank page and scribbled something down. He tore the page out, placing it on Yamato's bedside table. "That's my personal number; contact me any time if you need to. I'll be back tomorrow, but if you need anything in the meantime…"
"Thanks." Yamato muttered, blush gracing his face.
With a final nod, Yagami left the room.
Awkwardly, Yamato reached over to pick up the piece of paper. The paper was plain white, no squares or lines. The numbers were written in the middle, slanting upwards. Yamato smiled at the paper.
"What's that?"
Yamato jolted, not having noticed his father entering the room. He threw a glare at the older man, subtly trying to place the piece of paper under the thin cover he was lying under.
"You're back." He chose to say, not wanting to draw attention to the paper clutched in his right hand.
Smirking, Hiroaki marched up to the bedside, grabbing Yamato's hand and extracting the piece of paper. His smile widened as he read it.
"Only you would manage to score a date dressed in an unflattering hospital gown."
Yamato snatched the paper back, placing it on the table again. "It's not a date; it's just a number that I can call if I need anything."
"'Need anything,' such as a movie and dinner?"
"Dad." Came the exasperated warning.
"Fine, fine. It's probably just protocol anyway." Hiroaki cast a glance at the clock on the wall. "Listen, visiting hours are almost over, but I'll come see you tomorrow. I have a few days off work anyway, so I'll be here from morning until they release you."
Golden eyebrows shot up. "They're releasing me tomorrow?"
"Yeah, I spoke to your doctor, Dr. Kido, while I was out. Technically, there's nothing wrong with you, but he wants to keep you overnight just to be sure."
This time Yamato's brow furrowed. He was getting a weird feeling about the information; a bit like he knew already, but he couldn't know. Could he? No, he hadn't met his doctor yet…
"Yamato?"
The blond snapped back to attention at the inquisition.
"Sorry, just…" He shook his head. "Just nothing. Tired, I guess."
Hiroaki nodded in understanding, placing a large hand on his son's head. "Get some rest and I'll see you tomorrow."
"Okay. Good night. And sorry about dinner. There should be something in the freezer, though."
Hiroaki ruffled Yamato's hair and smiled down at him. "Don't worry about something like that. I'm a grown man and therefore fully capable of taking care of myself." He turned and took a few steps towards the door as Yamato yawned.
"Right, and that's why you keep telling me not to move out."
"Oi," Hiroaki turned, pointing a finger at the bed-ridden man. "That's because I work so much and feel bad for leaving the apartment alone for such long periods of time. It's easier to keep you living at home than to hire a maid."
Yamato stuck his tongue out at the elder Ishida, whom mimicked the action. They smiled at each other before Hiroaki walked out.
-o-o-o-
"Mr. Ishida?"
Yet another new voice. Would it never end?
For what felt like the millionth time, Yamato opened his eyes groggily. The face hovering over him was relatively young, framed by dark blue hair.
"Hi, good morning. I'm Dr. Jou Kido and I've been looking after you since you were brought in yesterday."
Yamato stretched his back lightly, trying to stifle a yawn. "Morning." He cleared his voice. "Thanks for looking after me."
Dr. Kido waved a hand, brushing the comment off. "It's what I do." He cocked his head at Yamato. "Are you able to sit up? Mind your wrist, now."
Yamato, whom had started moving at the question, would have probably hurt himself had Dr. Kido not reminded him of the wrist. He managed the task just fine, though his wrist was a bit tender when he moved his arm.
Dr. Kido checked him over, measuring his pulse and blood pressure and the usual. He then moved on to the wrist.
"The swelling has gone down considerably, but you still need to be careful with it and ice it if necessary. I'll be giving you a few ice packs to go, just in case. We x-rayed it when you were brought in and it's a clean fracture, so it's just in a padded splint. Keep moving your fingers, so that the hand doesn't get too stiff. I'll be giving you the care instructions in paper form, too, but just to inform you now. Also, we'll be in touch, calling you in for a check up or two."
It was a lot of information to take in, but Yamato figured he'd be fine. Especially once he got the written instructions.
There was a knock on the door. A head sporting a large nest of hair poked its way in.
"Morning. Am I disturbing? Shall I come back later?"
Yagami was dressed in civilian clothes. Had it not been for the absurd hair, Yamato might not have even recognised him. The drugs he'd been on yesterday messed with his memory, it seemed.
"No, that's fine, Officer." Dr. Kido said, smiling at the new arrival. "I was just finishing off with Mr. Ishida. He'll be released in a few hours, once we get all the paperwork sorted."
"Great." Yagami smiled, shaking the doctor's hand as they passed each other. "Thank you for all your work."
"Of course." Dr. Kido nodded, walking out and closing the door.
"How are you, Yamato?"
Yamato's eyes flickered to the officer's brown ones. Were they on first name basis?
"I'm fine."
Yagami grinned broadly, taking a seat in the chair he had occupied yesterday. "You do realise that 'fine' doesn't answer anything, right? So how about a real answer?"
Surprised, Yamato let out a laugh.
"There we go." Taichi said, chuckling himself. "You do seem to be doing better than yesterday."
"Yeah."
The two continued to smile at each other, ignorant of the time ticking by.
The door opened.
"Morning Yamato." Hiroaki said before yawning. He stopped short of entering the room. "Ah, Officer, I didn't realise you were here." He cast a sneaky glance at Yamato. "I was actually just popping in to say 'hi' and now I need to go sort out some paperwork at the front desk. I'll see you in a bit." He left again.
"I like your dad." Taichi commented, turning back to the male on the bed.
"He's pretty cool." Yamato agreed, then switched topics: "So, did you have something more to ask or…?"
"Huh? Oh, no. I'm not here on work-related stuff, as you can see." He gestured to his beige t-shirt. "I'm here on my free time." He grinned.
"Oh." Was all Yamato managed. He scanned around his brain for a new topic, but his internal panic was increasing as he came up with more of nothing.
"I actually did come here for two specific reasons, though neither work-related, like I said. First, was just to make sure you were better. And the other was actually to talk about the number I gave you yesterday."
"Oh." Yamato repeated, though feeling slightly crestfallen.
Taichi reached over to grab the paper, his eyes noting the wrinkles on it. He smiled.
"I actually didn't give this for work-related stuff." He said, offering the paper to Yamato again. "I actually kind of wondered—since I'm off duty now—if you'd maybe like to go out for coffee or something some time? Obviously, when you're better and out of here and all."
Yamato's eyes widened. Had he been connected to a heart rate monitor, he was sure it would have flat-lined briefly before jumping into high-gear.
"Oh God." Taichi cringed. "I totally made this whole case awkward now, didn't I? I mean, it's fine that you don't want to go out with me, but I really should have waited until after the case was over… I might be able to hand it off to someone else, since it's pretty straightforward. Do you want me to do that? Then you won't have to deal with me anymore."
"What?" Yamato asked, blinking at the brunet. What had he missed? Had he given off any indication that he wouldn't want to go on a date with Taichi? Apparently he had… "No, no. I didn't… I mean, I wasn't turning you down or anything."
Taichi released a breath, shoulders relaxing. "Really? Cause you just sat there quietly for a really long time and I thought you were trying to figure out how to reject me gently or something."
"No, no." Yamato repeated. "I was just surprised. I mean," He blushed lightly. "I did want to think that that was why you gave me your personal number, but then I didn't want to get my hopes up, so I let go of those thoughts and now you just surprised me."
Taichi's face was also tinted a bit red, though it was harder to tell on his darker skin. "You were hoping?"
Yamato's blush intensified as he realised what he'd admitted. Thankfully, though, the conversation was interrupted by Hiroaki entering without knocking again.
"You've been given the all-clear now, Yamato." He cast a glance at Taichi, then at the red-faced Yamato. He grinned. "Am I interrupting?"
Taichi just shook his head with a smile. He stretched his arms above his head, though it was an unnecessary action.
"I was just heading off, actually. I have to get to work." He looked at Yamato out of the corner of his eye. "If you'll be at home in a few hours, I'll need to come over and sort out a few things."
Yamato nodded, redness receding. "Yeah, I think I'll be staying at home all day." He looked at his father, nervous. "Though that means picking up groceries on the way home."
Taichi tried to contain his amusement at the irony. Though, if Hiroaki's nasty glare was any indication, he was fairing horridly. Yamato, on the other hand, was doing a better job at biting back his smile at Taichi's failed attempts.
The officer coughed into a fist before grinning at Hiroaki. "Take care of him and I'll see you in a few hours." He glimpsed at Yamato before heading out the door.
"Hm," Hiroaki hummed, stepping further into the room, though staring out the door. "I thought I trusted him, but this is a bit too soon to joke about the situation."
Yamato, whom had been staring after the brunet, snapped to attention. "Who? Taichi?"
Hiroaki's eyebrows rose and he turned to regard his son. "You're on first name basis with him? What was that about not scoring dates in hospital gowns?"
The response was a flat look and an outstretched hand. "Did you bring me a change of clothes?"
Rolling his eyes, Hiroaki handed a small plastic bag over. "I'll just wait outside."
Minutes later, Yamato walked out of his temporary room, albeit a bit slowly, thanks to his wobbly, unused legs. But at least he was on his feet again, which made Hiroaki smile.
Yamato signed a few papers at reception, thanking Dr. Kido a final time, and he was out. Finally. He stretched, inhaling deeply, as he stepped out.
Hiroaki smiled at him, pressing open the doors of his van. "Glad to be out?"
"Oh yeah. It's not as bad as people make it out to be, but I missed being able to move around."
Hiroaki started the van and they were off. They stopped by a supermarket on the way home, picking up food for the next few days.
-o-
Hiroaki had only dropped off Yamato and the groceries before he had to dash off to work.
Realising that he should have been at work, too, Yamato picked up the phone and called his boss, explaining the situation. His boss was understanding of the situation and gave him the next few days off.
Smiling, Yamato hung up, only to jump at the doorbell ringing. Panicking briefly, Yamato checked himself over as best he could without a mirror. Not the best, but still good he figured. Not that he had time to change or anything.
Yamato opened the door with a suggestive: "Sorry for the wait, Officer."
"Don't." Taichi warned with a grin, walking in and toeing off his shoes.
Yamato took his coat and hung it up, leading the way into the living room. Taichi took a seat in the armchair, leaving the couch for Yamato, though the latter remained standing.
"Would you like a drink?"
"No, thank you. I just have a few things to get through and then I'll have to head back to the department."
A bit put-off at the business-like tone, Yamato slumped onto the couch.
"First, you're absolutely sure you don't want to press charges?"
"Yes."
Taichi had, yet again, pulled out his little notebook and jotted something down.
"Alright. We've already sent him the fine and we're also considering removing his license. He's an old man, so it's safer for everyone out there." Taichi clarified at Yamato's confused frown.
"Oh."
"Yeah, so that's probably happening." Taichi mumbled, avoiding Yamato's eyes. Then he straightened up, moving his gaze back to the blue eyes. "We've also given the hospital his contact information for billing purposes, and we'll be giving you his contact information, too, if you want to go to therapy or need something else related to this incident."
Taichi paused, plunging the two men into silence. Only the ticking of the kitchen clock could be heard.
"Your father's not home?" Taichi asked, looking around.
Yamato shook his head. "No, he had to go into work."
"Oh."
Another silence followed.
"How's your wrist?"
Yamato shrugged. "It's alright. A bit weird not being able to use it. You wouldn't believe how much you actually need your left hand."
Taichi chuckled, the mood in the room lifting. He smiled at Yamato, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper. He stood and extended the paper to Yamato.
"It's his contact information."
Yamato took the parchment, but didn't open it.
Taichi glanced around the room again, then looked back at Yamato. "I don't actually have much more to clear with you, since you don't want to press charges and there were no severe injuries…"
Yamato smiled and stood, contact information still clutched in his hand. "That's alright; it's probably best to see you outside of your work, anyway."
Taichi smiled at that, moving towards the hall leading to the front door. Yamato followed after him.
After putting on his shoes, Taichi turned around, with a suggestive look. "I have the next two days off, so…"
Yamato smiled, Taichi's coat in hand. "I'll give you a call. I've also been given the next few days off."
Taichi beamed. "It's a date."
Yamato stayed at his apartment's door, watching as Taichi made his way to the stairs. "Drive safe."
Taichi threw an acknowledging grin over his shoulder before he disappeared.
With a contented sigh, Yamato went back in and closed the door, leaning into it. He looked down at the paper in his hand. He unfolded it and a small envelope fell out from between the folds. Curious, he bent over to pick it up.
Inside the envelope was a gift card to a supermarket and a note written in the shaky scrawl of an old, trembling hand:
The police told me you were alright, but I still feel really bad about what I did. I just wanted to apologise. I know you might not be able to forgive me, but please at least accept the gift card as compensation for the groceries. Also, please do not hesitate to seek therapy and further medical care. Again, I am so sorry and can only hope that this incident will not scar you for life.
With a sympathetic smile on his face, Yamato walked over to his phone, dialling the number on the paper Taichi had given him.