Part of a trio of sick!fics I wrote in a project with Azii. Since I have yet to watch Karneval myself, the portrayal of Akari and Hirato, especially their implied relationship, is based upon their portrayal in her drabble collection Karnevalesque and various related works. I highly suggest you read them if you enjoy shipping Hikari. Forgive me for anything out of character!
Akari is a beautifully complex puzzle of a man.
Hirato loves to see him with all of their pieces sublimely intact. Conversely, there are few thing that unsettle him more than seeing the doctor with a single shard of his carefully composed person laid out of place by anything other than the aforementioned indecorous occasions. Of course, there are exceptions to every rule, even when Akari is concerned.
"Get that thing away from me," he hisses without turning around.
A cheshire smile stretches languidly across Hirato's face, and he feigns innocence as the offending object disappears up his sleeve and behind his back.
"What thing, Akari-san?"
In his top hat and suit, the sleight of hand makes him seem even more the magician. Akari wishes for his next trick to make himself disappear. For the better part of the day, the strawberry blond had been glaring through bloodshot and bleary eyes at his mad hatter of a lover. The man seemed anything but, today, forcing Akari into further distraction from his work in order to maintain eye contact with the devilish silhouette lurking over his shoulder.
"Go. Away."
Each word is as perfectly enunciated as the last twenty times they had been spoken. There is, however and much to Hirato's delight, the slightest alteration in the pitch and tone at which the words are spoken. Akari pinches at the bridge of his nose, but the subtle hitch in his inhale does not escape the ears so attuned to every irregularity in the man's breathing pattern.
"Tissue, dear?" Hirato suggests softly in his ear.
A gloved hand bats impatiently at him, and he has to stifle an audible laugh. His lover whirls at that slight, the heel of one fine shoe stopping his swivel chair on a dime. Irritation burns—in more than one way—in his eyes, and Hirato offers a consolatory smile as he leans forward to wipe away wetness at their edges. Akari stops him short by grabbing his wrist. Elegant fingers squeeze tightly against flesh and concealed pyrate until he casts Hirato's arm away forcefully enough to jar the syringe loose. It shatters as the glass and metal hit the floor, and Hirato blinks at the slight laceration of his palm caused by the needles' sharp tip.
"Bandaid, dear?" Akari's voice seethes with mocking sarcasm.
"My my. A sick doctor who's afraid of needles can't be very effective," he teases. "I'll tend to my own wounds."
"I am not afraid," Akari snaps, "and I am quite capable of using a syringe to treat my patients. If you'd like a demonstration, I'd be more than happy to cure you of your inexhaustible supply of hot air with an injection through your windpipe."
"I'd rather take a suppository," Hirato responds with a wink, sneaking the irate blond a kiss on the cheek before ducking an airborne volume of infectious diseases.
Sometimes Hirato likes to put Akari's puzzle pieces into the wrong places. He likes the new pictures it makes.
This was absurdly fun to write. Leave a review, please and thank you~
