A/N: When reading this, please keep in mind that I finished it at two in the morning. I'll go back and edit it later (there are doubtless several typos and grammatical mistakes), but for now I need to sleep.
This one is dedicated to Azii. I wanted to write you a better piece than this, but this was the best I could do for now. Still, I hope you like it.
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Hirato had never realized how much more frightening it can be to be the one left waiting at home instead of the one leading the charge. It's strange, strange that he isn't the one lying here on the metal operating table. He should be the one with his body ripped open, all crimson blood and stark white nerves. He should be the one skirting the edge of death and coming closer with each agonizingly slow second.
It should never have been Akari.
The two shared a quick parting kiss, chaste and nothing special, neither thinking this quick trip would be anything but ordinary. Some vague, teasing words were all that came from Hirato; no "see you soon," no "get back safely." Akari's response was to scoff and roll his eyes; no "be back soon," no "I'll miss you."
It was not an ordinary trip.
No matter how overprotective Circus, not to mention Hirato, is of Akari, not even they can keep him safe from such unexpected disasters. A bomb planted in the worksite Akari was going to wasn't discovered until one of the doctor's assistant's feet was on it. Akari didn't have time to blink before the blast knocked him unconscious, good fortune keeping his limbs intact, and only sheer luck saved him from being killed by the explosion or debris as most of his assistants were.
By the time the ship retrieved them, it was too late.
Hirato is aware he shouldn't watch the surgery, but something in the back of his mind whispers incessantly that the moment he takes his eyes off Akari is the moment his heart will stop. Someone as high ranking as the captain can't be barred from watching the operation, but not even he is permitted inside the room. He isn't sure he wants to be inside either; the stench of blood, urine, sterilized metal and sterilized gloves make a cocktail of nausea.
The worst part of it all is the knowledge that it isn't the best of the best operating on Akari, because the unconscious man is the best physician they have.
It almost comes as a surprise when Akari is released from surgery without dying in the middle. Only once did his heart fail, and only once did Hirato feel his own stop at the sight. A flashing light, a shout from a masked nurse, and a jolt of electricity only take up the span of five seconds, but those five seconds are something the captain wishes he never had to witness. Akari's body convulses as the shock stops and resets his fluttering heart, and Hirato's eyes close briefly. His head rests against the cool glass of the window as he realizes he wasn't breathing either.
The doctor's body hardly looks better in a hospital bed. An oxygen mask covers his face, the clear plastic occasionally misting with breath. The majority of his wounds are hidden by the white blanket, but there are still reddened burns on his face from the blast and black stitches on his head and neck from the debris. Tubes poke out from beneath the sheet; this one is to drain the blood from the pleural place, this one is the IV filled with nameless drugs, this one... Hirato doesn't bother to remember the uses of all of them. All he cares is that they keep the man alive. He always excuses himself from the room when the nurses come in to change Akari's position, give him a dose of medicine, redress his wounds… As long as the injuries are hidden, the denial can remain in Hirato's head that they aren't as bad as they appeared when the doctor and his team were first rushed onto the ship.
The captain doesn't stay by Akari's side the entire time. He can't, as much as he would like to. The fact remains that he is in charge of Airship Two, and with a leadership role comes certain responsibilities. But when he isn't in meeting with the Round Table, its faceless figures curious and furious about the recent injury to their precious SSS ranked doctor, or having food stuffed down his throat by a worried Tsukitachi, he's watching the doctor in hopes he'll wake up.
It takes sixty hours before Hirato is finally forced to sleep. His mind shuts down on a blink, and he doesn't dream. He simply sleeps, his head falling onto his chest and his hands crossed tightly in his lap.
"Hirato." The voice that jars the man from his sleep is low and quiet—Tsukitachi, here to fetch his friend and fellow captain. "If you sleep here, you'll be the one in surgery next from a broken spine."
Hirato's eyes open immediately despite his exhaustion, and they're drawn to the bed like a magnet. No movement comes from Akari except the rise and fall of his chest, steady for the time being. The captain turns his gaze to Tsukitachi. "I'm fine. I've gone longer without sleep. I'm staying here."
"But you were just—" Tsukitachi crouches down and sets a hand on Hirato's shoulder, squeezing slightly. "You're going to collapse soon if you don't sleep. And I mean in a proper bed. Even if I have to lose one friend, I won't lose two." The instant the words come out of his mouth he knows it's the wrong thing to say.
"I'm staying here," Hirato repeats more forcefully. "You have no control over me, Tsukitachi, and we are not going to lose Akari."
Tsukitachi tongues a sarcastic comeback and decides against antagonizing the other man in such a situation. "I am sorry, Hirato," Tsukitachi says, unsure what he's even apologizing for. It makes his stomach twist for Hirato to act so unlike himself. "If you don't sleep soon though, I'm going to get one of the nurses to slip something into your coffee, and then I'll drag you to your bed myself."
The 1st ship's captain leaves without another word exchanged between them, and Hirato's eyes focus on the doctor again, his body supine and broken.
Hirato's mind drifts with the machines as white noise in the background.
Down the corridor into Akari's office where he sees the doctor sitting peacefully surrounded by papers, a pen tapping his lips as he reads in quiet consideration.
Farther down, Hirato's room, the two men are sprawled out on the sheets of the bed with fingers spreading over skin and twining between hair. Akari presses into Hirato's neck with a soft moan.
In the hall, Hirato stands with an amused expression while Akari's is far angrier. His whole body is stiff with anger; he always was prone to straightening his back when infuriated in an attempt to be more intimidating. For Hirato, it never had the desired effect.
Never again.
"Hira…to…" The voice is crackly and dry, barely audible over the buzz of the machinery. "Crying… over my dead… body…?"
Hirato's blood runs cold, and for a minute he thinks it's just a sleep-deprived hallucination. But upon standing and leaning over Akari, he finds that the other man's eyes are open, if only barely. It takes a few seconds before Hirato is collected enough from his shock to answer. "I believe I haven't cried since the first five minutes after I was born. Why would you think that would change just for you?"
Akari's mouth twists in what Hirato guesses is meant to be a smile. "'Cause you... love me," he slurs. "You'd cry if I died."
Hirato brushes a strand of hair from Akari's forehead with his thumb. "I'm willing to let that one slide, only because you have so much morphine inside your veins." His tone is wry but hints of relief creep through.
"I… love you too though… so it's okay to admit it," the doctor breathes. His body trembles with the effort of talking, and small whines of pain escape him with each breath.
"Enough." Hirato kisses Akari's forehead with more care than he has ever used before. "Sleep now. I'll be here when you wake up again."
Akari's head lowers in the start of a nod, then his eyes close the last few centimeters and his breathing evens out again. When Hirato straightens up, a wave of exhaustion overtakes him, and telling the nurses Akari woke up only tires him out even more, to see them all rush into the room with such fervor. He finally takes Tsukitachi's advice and goes to his room to sleep, passing out the moment his back hits the bed. Still, he keeps his promise to be by Akari's side when he wakes again.
When all is said and done, Hirato thinks he prefers to be the one out getting injured in the field. It's much less painful to endure physical wounds than to watch one's lover do the same.