#taking care

You hadn’t expected to be in this position—broken arm in a sling, unable to do even the most basic things without help. It was a stupid accident, really. A slip, a fall, and now you were stuck in this uncomfortable, frustrating situation. But as it turned out, Lando was more than up for the challenge of taking care of you. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it.

-

The first real test came on day one, when it was time for you to shower. Lando, always the playful one, had teased you when he realized you’d need help.

“So, I get to see you naked... and it’s for ‘medical reasons’? Lucky me,” he said with a wink, earning him an eye-roll from you.

“Lando,” you groaned, cheeks flushing. “This isn’t exactly a fun situation, you know.”

But even as you complained, you couldn’t help but laugh. He had a way of lightening even the most awkward moments. His teasing helped take your mind off the discomfort and frustration of not being able to do things on your own. Lando knew when to joke, and when to be serious.

“I’m kidding, love,” he said, his tone softening as he walked over to you. “I’ve got you, okay?”

And he did. Gently, he helped you undress, his fingers careful around your arm. There was something about the way he moved—confident yet delicate—that made you feel safe. Vulnerable, yes, but never embarrassed. He was Lando, your Lando, and there was no one else you trusted more.

Once you were under the warm spray of water, he joined you, shampooing your hair, his fingers massaging your scalp. It was a strange, intimate experience, but not in a way that made you feel uncomfortable. In fact, it was sweet.

“Maybe I should do this for you more often,” he murmured, lips close to your ear.

“You think I’ll let you wash my hair when I’m fully capable?” you shot back, a smile tugging at your lips.

He chuckled, his breath warm on your neck. “You never know, you might like the service.”

But as much as he teased, there was genuine care in the way he handled you. He washed every inch of your body with the gentleness you never knew he had. You leaned into him, resting your head on his chest for a moment, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your ear.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“For what?” he asked softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“For being... you.”

-

You never realized how hard it was to do something as simple as put your hair in a ponytail with one hand. By the third day, you were ready to give up on the idea of leaving the house with your hair looking decent. But, of course, Lando wasn’t going to let that happen.

“Okay, I’m going to do it,” he said, determination in his voice as he picked up your hairbrush and an elastic.

You sat in front of him, trying to keep still while he struggled to gather your hair into something resembling a ponytail. The concentration on his face was adorable—his tongue poking out a little as he focused on the task at hand.

“Lando, it’s fine,” you said after the third attempt. “I can just wear it down.”

“No way,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m getting this right.”

It took another few tries, but eventually, he managed to pull your hair into a somewhat lopsided ponytail. He grinned proudly, admiring his work in the mirror behind you.

“Look at that! I’m a pro,” he said, obviously pleased with himself.

You laughed, reaching up with your good hand to touch the ponytail. It wasn’t perfect, but it was endearing in its imperfection.

“I love it,” you said sincerely.

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your good shoulder. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

“You’re doing a great job, babe.”

-

As the days went on, Lando had to help you with more than just your hair. Getting dressed with one hand was a nightmare, and you hated having to rely on him for something so simple. But Lando, being the cheeky guy he was, turned it into something fun.

“Alright, love, what’ll it be today?” he asked, holding up two of your shirts. “Sexy red or casual blue?”

You gave him a pointed look. “I’m not trying to impress anyone, Lando.”

He smirked, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “You’re always impressing me, though.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered at his words. He knew exactly how to make you feel special, even when you were at your most vulnerable.

“Blue,” you said with a sigh, and he grinned.

Helping you get dressed was, of course, another challenge. He was gentle but still fumbled a bit, trying not to hurt your arm as he guided it through the sleeve.

“Sorry, sorry!” he muttered as he accidentally tugged too hard on your sling.

You laughed through the discomfort. “You’re not great at this, huh?”

“Hey! I’m doing my best here,” he protested, but there was no real frustration in his voice. He was patient with you, and that was what mattered.

Once you were dressed, he stepped back to admire his work.

“Not bad, huh?” he said, a proud smile on his face.

“Not bad at all,” you agreed, and he leaned down to kiss you softly.

-

By the end of the week, you were starting to feel a little more like yourself, but the pain in your arm was still a constant reminder of your injury. Lando, ever the attentive boyfriend, noticed when you were getting frustrated or tired, and he was always there to offer comfort.

That evening, you were lying on the couch, scrolling mindlessly through your phone, when Lando plopped down beside you. Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, careful of your injured arm, and snuggled up close.

“You doing okay?” he asked, his voice soft in your ear.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Just... tired of this.”

“I know,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “But you’re doing great. And I’m here, okay? For as long as you need me.”

You smiled, leaning into him. His warmth, his presence—it was everything you needed. You didn’t have to ask for his help; he just gave it freely, without hesitation.

As you lay there together, his fingers absentmindedly drawing circles on your back, you realized how lucky you were. Not just because he was helping you through this injury, but because he was Lando. The man who loved you unconditionally, who saw you at your weakest and still made you feel strong.

“Love you,” you whispered, closing your eyes.

“Love you more,” he replied softly, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

And in that moment, broken arm and all, you felt more loved than ever.

-

As your arm started to heal, you began to regain some independence, but that didn’t stop Lando from taking every opportunity to tease you. He seemed to enjoy his new role as caretaker a little too much, and he never missed a chance to flirt.

One afternoon, you were sitting at the kitchen table, trying to cut up some fruit with your good hand. Lando walked in, immediately taking the knife from you.

“Let me help,” he said, leaning in close.

“I can do it,” you protested, though you didn’t exactly mind when he was this close to you.

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yeah, but I do it better, don’t I?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at your lips. He knew exactly how to get under your skin, but in the best way.

As he cut up the fruit, he stole glances at you, his smile never fading. “You know,” he said casually, “taking care of you has been... kind of fun.”

“Oh, has it now?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he said, sliding a piece of fruit toward you. “I mean, I get to spend all this extra time with you, take care of you, shower with you...”

“Lando!” you laughed, swatting at him with your good hand.

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss you. “I’m just saying, maybe I should be your personal nurse more often.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, but your heart swelled with love for him.

“I know,” he replied, his voice soft as he looked into your eyes. “But you love me for it.”

And he was right.

౨ৎ

Daigo watched the streets go by from the car window, frustrated with himself for being unable to enjoy the view. The city was breathtaking in autumn - golden and red leaves rising towards the sky upon the trees or creating wonderful carpets over the road.

Sometimes he dreamed of having a simpler life, of being content with such small things. But the weight he carried on his shoulders prevented him from doing so. His worries followed him everywhere, he was tense even once he left the Tojo clan headquarters to be accompanied home by his bodyguards.

He couldn't relax, not even staring at those colorful lights. That’s why he had gladly accepted the invitation from a former drinking buddy that evening. It was rare for Daigo to say yes. On the one hand he never had time, on the other he had the impression of being contacted only by those wanting to take advantage of a connection with the current Sixth Chairman of the Tojo clan.

He had preferred to leave completely behind the bad company he had during his worst moment spent drinking in the alleys of Kamurocho. He was trying to keep in touch only with those who seemed more sincere and reliable, even if his commitments made it almost always impossible for him to go along with a friendly outdoors chat.

He feared that eventually the few acquaintances he had left would tire of calling him as well. He thought he deserved it, actually, because being busy wasn't always a real excuse. He had certainly found the way to invite his assistant out for a drink… more than once. Daigo knew it was wrong, he couldn't go on like that. They were bound by a sincere friendship, but for his part it was a bit more complicated.

He couldn't hide feeling somehow attracted by that man. In their meetings outside of the Tojo clan's affairs, Daigo often feared letting the situation get out of control… sometimes he felt he was just one drink away from causing a disaster. He definitely needed a distraction, so he was pleased by his old friend's suggestion. The plan was to have his bodyguards drive him at the designed destination and then sneak out secretly. No escort required. He just wanted to be Daigo, at least for a few hours.

Keeping himself occupied even outside work but freeing himself from his role in the clan would have made it easier for him to refrain from writing to... “Mine?!” Daigo jumped in his seat, recognizing the assistant across the sidewalk. He didn't expect to find the person he was his thinking about before his eyes, but above all he certainly didn't expect to see him in those conditions. The Sixth Chairman ordered his driver to stop and ran out of the car.

*

Mine hated himself for being so stubborn. He struggled to admit it, but he shouldn't have left the house. He had felt the first symptoms of the flu since morning, when he woke up with a dry throat and a cold. Obstinate, he simply put on a mask and headed to his office. Witnessing the slow decay of his own physical state hour after hour had been degrading.

In the afternoon the cold had become debilitating, he couldn’t carry out phone calls for long, constantly sneezing. There was no question of meeting his men in those pathetic form, so he found himself holed up in his study working on the stuff he could take care of alone on laptop. At 6 PM he had to give up and go home.

When he got up, Mine felt dizzy. His body was weak, his fever was probably rising… No way he could drive, he didn’t need to end up in a hospital emergency room. So, he left the car in the parking lot and called a taxi, asking the driver to halt at a pharmacy beforehand. He should have already taken some medicine, but pride prevented him from calling Katase to get him some.

He still remembered the last - and only - occasion he requested a personal favor from his secretary, when he worked as CEO in his own company. Back then he was so naive that he made the mistake of considering his colleagues and employees as friends, even as family. He had admired her fairly. She was a talented young woman who had passed all the interviews he had chosen under his wing, even though she was still studying for her master's degree.

Mine had willingly helped with her education, he was interested in how her exams were going and he often answered her questions during their break, allowing her to use business data as material for her thesis. Mine could have almost envisioned that woman as a younger sister. But he was clearly the deluded one.

Once, he had a fever so high he had to stay in bed. Not knowing who else to contact, he wondered whether she could go retrieve some pills for him. When the other replied asking him if it was an order and if - since it was after office hours she would be paid overtime, Mine realized how pathetic he had been.

He had been stupid, seeking sincere connections with people who were only around him for the money. Maybe it wasn't out of pride that he hadn't repeated the same mistake with Katase… but out of fear of discovering that nothing had changed since then. But he didn't have time to think about it as he stood outside. Leaving the shop, he was struck by a coughing fit so strong that he had to cling blindly to a lamp post, his mask lowered to catch his breath. He couldn't even remember where the taxi was.

His head was exploding, he felt like he was about to collapse… “Mine!?” Why did he hear the Sixth Chairman's voice? Well, he must have been hallucinating. “Mine! Are you ok? You look so pale!” Mine tried to focus on the figure in front of him, maybe his brain was completely fried or Impossible. He blinked. It was indeed the familiar face of his boss, in an equally familiar worried frown.

“Sixth Chairman-” Mine quickly lifted his mask and took a step back, trying to put a safety distance between them. “It's just a cough, nothing that requires your concern.” But Daigo didn't seem to worry about being infected with whatever illness the assistant had. He moved closer and unceremoniously placed a palm on his forehead.

“Just a cough? You're burning hot!” He protested. “Don't-” Mine tried to reassure him but… the words completely died in his throat, when he found himself enveloped in the warmth of the soft cashmere scarf Daigo was wearing. “You're shaking… here, take this.” Scolding him, he wrapped the cloth around Mine's neck and finally patted him twice on the shoulders. Mine was grateful for the fabric hiding the suspicious heat on his cheeks.

Daigo's warmth… his scent… It was the same one Mine smelled every time he dutifully helped the boss remove his coat. Like he was being embraced by him. Not that Mine had ever hugged the Sixth Chairman, of course, but he imagined it similarly.

“Mine? Are you there?” Almost dozing off, he had buried himself in the scarf, until the other man's hand on his shoulder brought him back with a gasp. Daigo had asked him something and he wasn't listening. "…Yes. Excuse me." “I was saying, did you come here by car? I'll take you home." “You don't have to-” “Come on, you can't stand up. So?”

His brow furrowed, the leader of the Tojo Clan was determined not to give in. Furthermore… The fear of fainting on top of him made Mine accept the offer. He would never have wanted to disturb the Sixth Chairman himself, and yet… “A cab brought me here.” “Perfect, let's go.”

*

Daigo didn't have to think twice. He had forced Mine to hold on to him and had carefully accompanied him towards the taxi, coming aboard with him. He then warned his entourage he would continue alone and ordered them not to follow him. He hoped the bodyguards wouldn't have recognized Mine, he didn't want them to see him like that. He knew how much he cared about his reputation; his men already questioned it enough… there was no need to spread weird rumors.

Daigo unwinded only when his associate collapsed beside him, comforted by that intimacy. Stubborn as ever, he had sent him emails up until an hour before … Oh, Mine… Daigo looked down at his assistant. Resting tiredly, he had regained some color.

Combining that man with any kind of weakness had seemed absurd… But his impeccable subordinate was human too, after all. Relieved, Daigo allowed himself to melt into a slight smile. It was easy to text his old friend he had to cancel their night out, without any regrets.

*

Surprised to stare at the moon outside the window, Mine struggled through hazy memories of how he got there. Daigo who held him close with an arm around his waist, helping him get out of the cab, enter the house, move towards the bed. His scent… Mine had smelled it directly from the crook of his neck, leaning against him…

Mine had insisted on being able to change and get into bed unaided, the idea of having the Sixth Chairman help him undress was too much. But Daigo had joined him shortly after with a glass of water and a pill, when Mine was fortunately already under the sheets. His hand… had it stroked his hair, when Daigo lifted his head from the pillow to take the medicine…?

Or maybe it had all been a long hallucination, maybe Mine had gotten home on his own, somehow. “Mine, you're awake!” The boss's relieved voice filled the room with something those walls had never known. Not a hallucination. It was all true… how embarrassing. Yet it was worth it, looking at Daigo when he approached.

“Can you sit down? You should drink and eat something.” Daigo had taken off his tie and unbuttoned a couple of buttons on his shirt, his sleeves rolled up, as relaxed as during their meetings at Shellac. He held a tray which he placed on the bedside table, before leaning towards Mine to arrange the pillows behind his back while he sat up.

There was something strongly intimate in seeing him so at ease in his bedroom, despite having never been in that house prior. And that smile on his face, so kind… it was the comfort Mine didn't even know he needed. “I took the liberty of using your kitchen to prepare something for you.”

He began, taking the tray again and placing it on his legs. “I fought hard against your infernal device to make juice, but in the end I won.” And with a victorious grin, he sat next to Mine on the edge of the bed.

Mine took a moment to silently contemplate the contents of the platter, before picking up the glass of orange juice and taking a long, needy sip. In fact, glancing closer at Daigo, he seemed to have struggled with the machine… his white shirt was smeared in several places with bright splashes. Another humiliation the Sixth Chairman had subjected himself to because of him.

There was also a sandwich. The bread slices were filled with peanut butter and jam, a combination that Daigo had found bizarre when Mine told him about his hasty meals when he was a student in America.

That sight caused him mixed feelings. His pride stung more than the cough scratching his lungs. The thought of troubling the Sixth Chairman himself - the man Mine should have assisted instead of causing him problems - in having to take care of him was mortifying. He hated imagining his superior messing around with his kitchen furniture, instead of enjoying his scarce free hours and maybe resting.

But… When was the last time someone had prepared food for him? Who had ever shown him so much concern, tending to him? It was since the orphanage that “Um- I know that a hot soup would be more suitable, but this is the best I could do… You don't have to force yourself to eat it. If you can't, I can order takeout instead!” Daigo hastened to explain, slightly agitated by the lingering silence.

“No, that won’t be a problem.” Mine snapped out of it. Perfect, now he had also acted ungrateful, not appreciating the efforts the boss had made for him. “I'm just ashamed of showing myself to you in such shape and my inefficiency led you to take care of me.” “Mine… How many times do I have to tell you not to be so formal outside work?” Daigo snorted and rolled his eyes. That said, he felt reassured by the temperature drop perceived with his palm.

“If you've recovered enough to say such nonsense, use your strength to eat, instead. Come on!” He urged. Mine was left dazed for a few moments, struck by that simple gesture. So much consideration… Daigo was so spontaneous in doing it and yet for Mine it contained a strength capable of revolutionizing his entire world. Having overcome the obstacle of guilt, he was assailed by the awareness that he had never been treated so, for so long that he believed it impossible.

And the person who was making him feel as if he were something precious, worthy of attention, was the very man who had made him rediscover his ability to experience what he had stopped relying on. “Daigo-san… This is more than anyone else has ever done for me. Thank you." He said it out loud, but he didn't regret letting those words slip when he saw Daigo light up.

“Don't even say it.” Mine willingly concentrated on starting to eat his sandwich. Luckily Daigo had generously filled it, because otherwise it would have been difficult to swallow with his dry throat. But then he jumped and almost choked when the boss climbed onto the empty side of the mattress. “Don't get so close-” “Nah, don't worry, I have strong antibodies.” Daigo reassured him with a shrug, as he leaned closer to take the glass of juice he had brought for himself from the bedside table.

"I wanted to turn on the heating but I couldn't, everything in here is so complicated!” Mine was glad to have something to keep himself busy and stop thinking about the shared proximity, for a few seconds at least. He hurriedly took the remote control and revealed the electric fireplace on the opposite wall. Mystery solved.

“Oh!” Daigo blinked, visibly surprised, before giving him a playful shove. “Always a show off!” The assistant managed to break into a half smile. He had to admit it, he liked to go all out… and that fake fireplace definitely wasn't necessary, but he appreciated its more welcoming atmosphere. And in that circumstance, he felt so grateful for that design choice with the warm color of the flames illuminating the placid expression of the man next to him.

“Can I stay here?” The other asked, savoring his drink. Mine couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, emphasizing the pointlessness of the question. Daigo had already made himself comfortable, his back resting on the pillow and his legs stretched out on the sheets… “Better to ask, right?” Daigo acted offended. They looked at each other for a bit and then both gave in to a laugh in unison, with a few coughs by Mine.

This wasn't how he expected Daigo's first visit in his apartment, but Mine had to concede that he didn't mind being with him like this. It seemed like the description of a disaster, two young men spending the evening in bed drinking orange juice, in front of a fireplace, between pills and medicines… yet he had never been with someone so intimately.