Archive of Our Own

Dazai was not one who enjoyed human contact at all. Whenever brushing against someone, it left a blazing trail across his skin, a fire that couldn’t be put out. Though the only person who he had been able to ever touch without those repercussions, Dazai had found out, was Chuuya.

How strange.

Their first few instances where they were forced to hold close contact with each other, of course, were life or death situations because there was no way either of them would do so willingly.

Dazai and Chuuya had officially been assigned as partners during the summer season. Of course, there were some operations that Dazai worked on his own while Chuuya was still learning the ropes, much to his amusement, but that meant that by the winter everything had been worked over and that also meant that Mori would partner them up even more.

Just in time for the typical winter mission.

Dazai detested the winter. While the summer was sweltering and the sweat made his bandages stick to his skin in an annoying way, the winter was far worse. He could never seem to get warm as it was and being sent to the nearby mountain range, high in altitude until they completed the job, certainly did not help.

The first few times Dazai had been sent alone (of course Mori had assigned someone to tail Dazai but Dazai had disposed of them.) and he had gotten altitude sickness. It took two days of precious time to get better and left him only one more to get the job done.

In the end, he had, though it had not been easy.

Though now that he was more acclimated to the climate and had someone, an annoying someone, with him, he wondered how it would differ.

The answer was: tremendously.

Dazai had anticipated Chuuya to get altitude sickness as he had since apparently, his new partner had never been up in the mountains before, but much to Dazai’s disappointment, he seemed perfectly fine. Dazai should have predicted so from the start, Chuuya’s power was gravity after all.

And now it was not as quiet in the shack only meant for one person, because now Chuuya was there to argue over who got the bed and who got the couch the first night. A constant thorn in Dazai’s side.

“I’m getting the damn bed,” Chuuya huffed, leaving no room for argument.

Well, Dazai would make room.

“Yes but I have frequented here for far longer than Chuuya has,” Dazai crossed his arms and they stared each other down over the bed.

“But it's my first time here so technically I should get it,” Chuuya retorted.

“Well, there are other nights you can sleep…”

Chuuya’s eyes widened “are you actually suggesting we switch off-”

“-On the couch.”

Chuuya scrunched his nose up and grabbed one of the pillows, throwing it with the force of a bowling ball though it had only bounced harmlessly off of Dazai’s face. Dazai snickered, “did Chuuya think I would be reasonable?”

“For once? Maybe.” The fight drained out of Chuuya’s shoulders as he eyed the darkness outside. Dazai had won.

“Fine,” he huffed, slinging his bag over his shoulder, “I’ll take the couch by the fireplace tonight, but this argument isn’t over.”

He stomped out of the room and Dazai could hear shuffling in the small living room until everything went silent. It was rare that Chuuya ever let Dazai win an argument so Dazai would take the win.

The following day, of course, Dazai had been the one to wake up first. The sun was just barely rising above the snow flurries outside as Dazai pulled on a thick coat over his long sleeve shirt. The bandages added an extra layer though not even they could fend off the cold that had seeped into the small shack during the night.

Dazai slid on another pair of thick socks and opened the door to his bedroom to see how Chuuya was fairing.

And apparently, he was doing just fine because he had not woken up from the cold yet. Usually, Chuuya would be the one dragging Dazai out of bed, eager to ‘kick people's asses’ as he stated, and most times Chuuya was the one who actually forced him to be productive.

How the tables have turned.

Dazai leaned over the back of the couch to observe the way Chuuya was sprawled out on the couch, on his back with an arm and a leg thrown over the side. The blanket had fallen somewhere to the floor and even wearing a hoodie and sweatpants would not raise the temperature to a comfortable amount.

Dazai snapped a picture of the drool on Chuuya’s lips before bending down to retrieve the blanket from the floor and throw it over Chuuya.

He looked at the time.

Perhaps a few more hours of sleep wouldn’t hurt.

And when the few hours were up, of course, Dazai had dragged Chuuya by the foot off of the couch and startled him out of sleep.

“You’re a fucking menace, you know?” Chuuya growled, voice groggy as he sat up from the floor and glared at Dazai.

“I was only trying to get Chuuya up so we could complete our job!”

“Huh?” Chuuya looked down to his watch, one he had recently bought with his new allowance, and cursed. “Why in the hell did you let me sleep so long?” Chuuya quickly got up and moving, discarding the blanket carelessly over the couch as he dug in his backpack for a coat.

“Chuuya looked so comfortable, I couldn’t bring myself to wake him up~”

Chuuya briefly paused from rifling around in his bag to shoot Dazai a look over his shoulder, “Whatever pictures you took, delete them.”

“I do not know what you are talking about,” Dazai feigned innocence, and Chuuya must have simply not had enough time to berate him or punch him into a wall because he focused his attention back to pulling on his coat.

“Is Chuuya not even going to bother changing out of his sleep clothes?”

Chuuya shrugged shamelessly, “they're comfortable, I’ll just wear clothes over them. And I'm taking your socks.”

Dazai knew Chuuya would forget his own socks, so of course, he brought an extra-thick pair with paw prints on them just for Chuuya. “If Chuuya insists.”

Chuuya rolled his eyes and shouldered past Dazai to get to the kitchen, “Yes, Chuuya does insist. Now let's eat and get this shit over with.”

And that had been the start of their trip.

Not a wonderful one, if you asked Dazai, though nothing on the winter trips was ever wonderful. It was not meant to be an action-based mission, simply grunt work that would need to be trusted with a higher up, but not an executive since none of them would ever travel to a place such as this one.

Dazai knew that Chuuya had been in charge of the underground jewel smuggling operation and was doing… quite a good job at it, he would admit. Though this job was not much different. The trade agreements with the Port Mafia and the organization that lies over the mountain range only took place once every winter, in a very small town not even on the map.

Dazai had been assigned to oversee the trade, and now Chuuya had been dragged with him.

The place where their trades took place was not too far away from where they were currently staying, only around the twenty-minute hike, though having to push through the soft snow that went up to their knees made it seem much longer.

They had left after lunch since the trade was to take place at sunset, though the sun here set much sooner than anticipated.

Chuuya remained blessedly silent on their hike, perhaps because he did not want Dazai to know that his teeth were chattering, or he was afraid that his tongue would turn into a popsicle if he opened his mouth. Either way, Dazai tried his best to enjoy it, even with the wind that howled and whipped at his hair and his breath that crystallized in a haze above his head, mingling with Chuuya’s own.

Ahead of them, the trees started to lessen until they stumbled upon a clearing and in the distance, a deteriorating-looking warehouse somehow withstood the wind. They had arrived.

Seemingly just in time too, the sun had started to creep downwards over the horizon, stars already dotting the sky.

It would have made for a fine sight if the atmosphere did not seem so desolate.

Without any words, they both continued across the long field, snow crunching under their boots. It was starting to come down heavier. Not sleet, though fresh snow was never a good thing in the location they were in because one yell and an avalanche could be triggered and destroy them all.

Perhaps that was why Chuuya was keeping his mouth shut.

Hopefully, he would continue to stay silent-

“This is really the place?”

Dazai spoke too soon.

Chuuya scrutinized the front of the warehouse and Dazai nodded, “well it is not a five-star hotel. Simply a place to store our cargo while we trade it.”

“If I touch this thing then it's falling,” Chuuya deadpanned.

“Then do not touch it.”

Dazai went in first, squeezing between the halfway opened doors. It was as he had remembered, The few plants that could stand the unforgiving winter sprouted through the cracks in the concrete. It smelled of rot, though Dazai had grown used to the musty smell and it no longer affected him.

Chuuya followed behind him, eyes lingering on the mold forming on the corners of the roof before they landed on the pile of boxes in the center. Dazai did not know the specifics of what was being traded, though if he was to take a guess then he would say weapons. No organization was as far in the lead as the Port Mafia was for weapons manufacturing, and if another organization wanted them, then it would be one of the less technical ones who wanted them anonymously.

And Dazai knew very well what the other organization had offered them.

Jewels that could only be mined in this region. Not many could get their hands on them, but it would make the jewel industry, the one that Chuuya was now running, far more popular.

The Port Mafia dominated in all aspects after all.

“What time did you say they’d be here?” Chuuya grumbled, derailing Dazai’s train of thought.

“Now,” Dazai said cautiously. Through all of their years of trading, the organization had never been late. Something smelled fishy.

He moved to the doorway to peer out of the crack, and through the darkness, he could see figures approaching, ten of them in total. Dazai frowned because they usually only sent two people in a cart.

There was no cart.

Dazai pushed away from the door to give Chuuya a serious look, “we are being compromised, you know the drill?”

“Shit, yeah.” Chuuya zipped up his coat once more, prepared to go out into the snow, “I meet them head-on, you secure the carts.”

Dazai smirked, satisfied, “wonderful, Chuuya had been studying up,” though he sobered up quickly, “there should not be any ability users in their ranks. If they try to compromise with you do not listen. Kill them immediately.”

A feral smirk crossed Chuuya’s lips, “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Then he was pushing past the rickety doors and Dazai turned back to the crates, ignoring the sudden sounds of yelling and fighting as he thoroughly searched the crates. The organization had expected to overwhelm Dazai, though he had Chuuya with him this time.

There had been no changes in the crate's interior, not bugs planted, so Dazai quickly discarded the weapons all into one crate to drag out to the back door, a hidden one that Chuuya must not have noticed when they first walked in.

The cold air stung his face as he slid the door open, and as expected, waiting in the nearby shed was a snowmobile, a bobsled attached to it with straps to hold the crate down. Dazai strapped it in and pulled away, eyeing the snowmobiles controls to see how he would operate it.

Of course, Mori had anticipated a future betrayal and had an escape clear in mind.

Though Dazai had noticed that the sounds of fighting had stopped a long time ago. Ten minutes to be exact. Chuuya would have finished them off fairly easily, though he would also be calling out Dazai’s name and would have found him by now.

Something twisted in Dazai’s gut as he turned the key he had kept in his pocket, listening as the engine sputtered a few times before coming to life. He was no good at driving vehicles, though a snowmobile could not have been more complicated than a car.

He was wrong.

Making it around the warehouse was a struggle, though the lights cut through the darkness and made it easier to see that…

Chuuya was not anywhere.

What he did see was the men, all ten of them, exiting the warehouse with the remaining crates in hand. The ones Dazai had emptied. He cut off the headlights to the mobile to avoid being noticed though he did not engage in a useless fight. They were leaving with empty crates and Chuuya was not with them, it would be better to report the situation back to Mori and let him take further action.

For now, Dazai would need to find his partner.

Once they were out of sight, Dazai turned the headlights back on and strained his eye as he sifted through the darkness.

“Chuuya you can come out of hiding now, you are so short that I cannot see you!”

Dazai called more and there was no response.

Something was off.

He only found Chuuya when his boot hit something soft yet solid. He lifted his leg to see the shadow of what looked like a hand. The fingertips were turning a purple shade and all of the blood had been drained from it.

This was Chuuya’s hand.

Dazai felt the air punched out of his lungs as he fell to his knees, ignoring the numbness in his own limbs as he started to brush the snow away, revealing a frozen arm attached to the rest of Chuuya’s body.

Dazai hauled him out of the snow and the first thing he had noticed was that Chuuya was undressed from the waist up, his body an unhealthy shade, almost matching the snow, some parts coated with new bruises. The second thing was that he was soaked with something that smelled foul.

Lighter fluid.

They had doused Chuuya with lighter fluid in case he was able to drag himself to a fire in an attempt to warm himself up…

Dazai did not wish to think of the possibility.

Though Chuuya was alive, his body was shivering violently and ice shards were still attached to his hair. His jaw was clenched tight, though his teeth still clattered.

He wondered how these people had managed to get the upper hand on Chuuya, though he would need to ask that question later.

Dazai needed to get him out of here as soon as possible or else he would be returning back to headquarters alone.

Though Chuuya would not make it in this state, Dazai silently mourned the loss of his thick jacket as he slid it off, lifting Chuuya from the snow to wrap it around him.

Then came the hard part.

Operating the machine.

Dazai would have put Chuuya in the seat behind him, though there was no way he would have been able to hold on, so he was placed in front of Dazai as he drove back to where their shed was located. He would need to go around the dense forestry to reach the location and that would cost some time, though it was far quicker than going on foot and attempting to haul Chuuya back.

Once Chuuya had started to drift off, Dazai knew he would need to get there soon.

Ten minutes later, half the time it would have taken to walk, they arrived. The lights had still been on in the inside, something Dazai had insisted upon because he would not have seen it otherwise.

“We have arrived,” Dazia informed Chuuya, even if his partner was more or less out of it.

“W-what?” Chuuya asked, his voice a barely audible whisper.

Ah, at least he was with him now instead of drifting off to sleep. Dazai turned the key and slid it back in his pocket, not bothering to do anything with the crate of weaponry as he slid off of the machine, taking Chuuya’s arm over his shoulder to drag him to the porch and into the shack.

It was small, meant for one person, though they would make it work. Dazai had already contacted Mori. There was no service, but the red button on his burner phone should have been enough to alert him of the situation.

Dazai sat Chuuya down on the couch and even if the lighter fluid had mostly been frozen off, Dazai still took the thin blanket Chuuya was using the previous night and wiped him down to where he was no longer in danger around the fireplace.

The second order of business.

Dazai dumped the clothes from Chuuya’s bag and grabbed whatever he could find. Chuuya didn’t even protest when Dazai held them out, muscles contracting as Dazai slid the shirt over his head, then dressed the rest of his body.

His eyes were glazed over and Dazai snapped in his face. Chuuya blinked and once again he was back, jerking around every so often.

The third order of business was to get Chuuya warm. In a stable enough condition to last until reinforcements arrived hours later.

Dazai did not like what getting Chuuya warm meant, though he did not have much of a choice in the matter. Chuuya was a valuable pawn to the port mafia, and for some strange reason, seeing him in such a condition made something in Dazai’s chest constrict.

He ignored the emotion he had never felt before to strike a match against the lighter box and toss it into the fireplace. He did not look back to see if the fire spread, simply feeling the heat curl against his back as he pushed Chuuya down, his back to the fire, and Dazai crawled onto the couch next to him once he retrieved all of the blankets in the shack.

There were not many, but he could make it work.

Chuuya’s body was freezing cold against his, making goosebumps erupt over Dazai’s skin as he drew closer.

He knew how to deal with hypothermia, he had worked under Mori after all. Bodyheat was the best source and he would not deny Chuuya that even if touch sent a fiery pain through his skin that made him numb.

Chuuya still shivered against him, his breath slow, common for a freeze victim.

“What hurts the worst?” Dazai found himself asking, and he was slightly surprised when Chuuya actually answered, opening his eyes and looking past frozen eyelashes at him.

“M-My a...arms n’ legs.”

Dazai hummed, “yes those may hurt, but if I attempt to warm those up before your core you could die.”

Chuuya let out a breath in a staccato rhythm and nodded shakily. Apparently, he trusted Dazai.

Chuuya’s fingers and toes luckily did not have frostbite on them when Dazai had checked, so he kept the socks and gloves on, though he did unzip Chuuya’s jacket so Dazai could press him closer to his chest.

When Chuuya’s skin came in contact with his he had expected the pain unbearable to ripple through his body, the only agony that could make him scream, though it never came. Instead, there was a distant warmth even if Chuuya felt like an ice cube against his body.

Dazai… did not know what to think.

But he remained in the same position through the night until Chuuya’s stuttered breaths and shivering lessened.

Of course, he would not bring it up in the morning, how the touch had felt, but he would remember it for the rest of his hopefully short life.

The second situation had of course been another life or death one because despite the touch for some reason never leaving Dazai’s mind, he wouldn't dare engage in it on purpose.

Chuya had not remembered the night anyway, and Dazai would like to keep it that way.

A month later they had been caught in yet another ambush, though it was a very different situation than the first one.

Mostly in part because Dazai did not remember getting caught in the first place. The only feeling he could recall was the needle in his neck, someone had come into his blind spot, the area Chuuya was supposed to be protecting.

And when he blinked back into consciousness, his vision focused on the color grey. It surrounded him, grey walls and grey bars shielding him off from the rest of the room. He was in a jail cell.

Then his other senses returned. The place did not smell good, like rotting wood. He blinked more of the dots from his vision and waited for a moment for his mind to sharpen, for the clouds hanging over his brain to clear out. It took another minute for him to form stable thoughts once again and for his tongue to not feel like cotton, and when it did he noticed even more dire details.

The feeling of rope tightly constricting his movements. Dazai dazedly looked at the material to see he was sitting in a chair, the rope tying his legs to it. His arms were tied somewhere behind him, against a solid surface that was soft and had a pulse.

His wrists were tied to someone else's.

He was not alone in this jail cell.

Memory slightly returned to him and he deduced that the person was Chuuya. Their backs were to each other, and it made sense that whoever had captured them had tied their hands together to prevent Chuuya from using his ability.

“Is Chuuya awake?” Dazai asked, voice hoarse, but he got no response.

There was a weight on his shoulder and out of the corner of his eye, Dazai could see red hair. Chuuya must have still been knocked out cold, though it was no surprise because the drugs would work worse on Chuuya due to his size.

Dazai would tease him later about it.

For now, he would need to find a way out.

He scanned over his visible surroundings. The cell did not look well kept, there were cracks and crevices along the wall and floor, and the bars separating them from the rest of the run-down-looking police office were fractured.

This was obviously an abandoned place, if Dazai had to guess, they were in the slums of Yokohama.

Calling the boss was not an option. In these situations, Mori had made it very clear that the two of them were to escape by themselves with no help, and it was a gamble whether this was a test or that they had actually been kidnapped by an enemy organization. They did have a bounty out for their heads after all, though if that were the case then they would have been killed a lot sooner while unconscious.

Unless they were captured by the bloodthirsty type who had some sort of vendetta against them. Over the months, Dazai and Chuuya had created many enemies.

Dazai strained against the rope to see if perhaps they were corroded as the rest of their surroundings, but they did not budge.

He would not be able to reach the communicator he kept in his boot nor the pocketknife in his breast pocket.

He would have to work with what he had.

Which was Chuuya.

Distantly, if Dazai strained his ears, he could hear voices in the next room. They were loud and booming, three in total if Dazai was hearing correctly.

The people who had caught them were a small-time organization.

Dazai twisted his wrist around and intertwined his fingers with Chuuya’s, digging his fingernails into the back of his partner's hand until Chuuya made an annoyed noise, the weight on Dazai’s shoulder shifted as he lifted his head.

“Ah, welcome back to the land of the living~”

Chuuya was silent for a long moment and Dazai wondered if he had passed back out, though he had spoken, sounding just as groggy as Dazai felt. “Were we fucking kidnapped?”

“Indeed,” Dazai verified, “I believe that they took Chuuya out before me.”

Chuuya let out a noise from the back of his throat, sounding slightly pained. Dazai just now remembered to let his hand go. “I don’t remember a damn thing.”

“Nor do it.”

A beat of silence.

“Well damn.”

They would need to retrace their steps as soon as they escaped this rotting place. “I don’t suppose Chuuya has a way out now does he?”

Dazai felt Chuuya tug on the rope just as he had, only for his efforts to be in vain. “Not when your damn skin is touching me.”

“Yes, they tied us in a very strategic way. Props to them.”

Chuuya tried and failed to elbow him, “Stop complimenting the enemy dammit- wait.”

Dazai waited as he heard Chuuya shuffling around and the legs of his chair creaking. Finally, three minutes later, Chuuya let out a victorious sound.

“The rope around my ankles was loose, so I kicked off my shoes and slipped through,” Chuuya explained, and maybe the enemy was not as meticulous as Dazai had originally thought.

“Wonderful, now can you stand and break the chairs?”

There was a pause.

“Are you fucking serious? No, not without my ability,” Chuuya answered, and it only occurred to Dazai now that the chairs were metal. The drugs must have ravished his brain processing function more than he had thought.

“You injured or something?” Chuuya asked.

“A small concussion,” Dazai answered because the blooming ache in the back of his skull was all too familiar.

“Fucking fantastic,” Chuuya groaned, “I can always…”

Dazai sighed because he knew exactly where Chuuya was going, “I see no choice. Go ahead.”

“Duck your damn head.”

Soon enough they were both a tangle of limbs because Chuuya had braced his feet on his chair as he flipped over the back of it and onto Dazai’s side, landing on his lap moments later. Chuuya hissed because, with their new position, his arms had been twisted in a way that his shoulders almost popped out of their sockets, but he blinked past the momentary pain.

Dazai took a moment to study the dried trail of crimson leaking from his hairline, and Chuuya did the same to Dazai before they were both certain that the other had not suffered a major injury.

Well, now they could continue with their plan.

“I don’t have a damn knife on me, how about you?”

Dazai smirked, “I am much more prepared than Chuuya!”

Chuuya rolled his eyes and scoffed, “It’s not every day I step out of my apartment and expect to be kidnapped.”

Ah, he simply believed he was too indestructible to be kidnapped. Though he had not anticipated that his strength, Dazai, would turn out to be his weakness in the situation, keeping him anchored and powerless.

He relied on his ability too much.

Dazai would be sure to let executive Kouyou know so she could run him through training exercises without any ability use.

“So?” Chuuya asked expectantly, “Knife?”

“Ah, in my breast pocket,” Dazai answered, nodding down to the right where the metallic object lay.

Chuuya leaned down, shifting on Dazai to nose through his breast pocket, and Dazai would love to call him a dog for his actions later, though for now, he would watch as Chuuya took the pocketknife with his mouth.

“And how do you plan to open that?” Dazai asked.

Chuuya smirked with the silver knife in his mouth, “Open wide motherfucker.”

Dazai understood where Chuuya was going with this, and he did not enjoy the idea. “Can’t Chuuya just open it with his tongue?”

Chuuya raised an eyebrow, “I thought you wouldn’t want me to slobber all over your precious knife?”

“Like a dog,” Dazai added, because he had too, “though I suppose I see no other option.”

He opened his mouth and let Chuuya draw closer, close enough to where Dazai could take the tip of the blade between his teeth and Chuuya could open the knife from the other end. The situation was utterly absurd and neither would mention it ever again for the rest of their wretched lifetimes because their breaths collided, brushing against the other's face, and Dazai could have sworn he tasted Chuuya spit on the knife.

The very situation should have made him feel appalled, disgusted, though he could only feel something shift in his gut.

He quickly shut down that thought process, and would hopefully never think of it ever again.

“Got it,” Chuuya said, muffled with the knife between his teeth, and he pulled away from Dazai.

“Get to rope splicing slug, we don’t have all day.”

“Whatever,” Chuuya grumbled as he adjusted himself on Dazai’s lap before leaning down to their wrist, carefully maneuvering the knife between their skin and the rope to start tearing at it.

Though it seemed that they had wasted too much time because Dazai could hear the sounds in the next room growing louder and closer. Their captors were about to make an appearance. Dazai hooked a pinky around Chuuya’s and squeezed in warning.

He felt Chuuya carefully taking the knife away from the rope and sliding it between Dazai’s back and the chair before coming back up, looking much like a deer in the headlights. They did not have enough time for Chuuya to flip back over to his chair.

Dazai shook his head shortly and Chuuya’s gaze hardened before the rickety door opened. Dazai did not move his head in the direction and nor did Chuuya, though their eyes followed the three men, all large in size, as they approached the jail cell, all talking casually.

They halted when they opened the cell and noticed that their prisoners had moved around.

“Hah,” one chuckled, “would ya look at that?”

The others too began to laugh, though there was no humor in their tone. Dazai wracked his mind from where he could have seen these men, but they were completely unrecognizable. He had a photogenic memory and if he could not remember their faces, then he had never seen them before.

Chuuya too looked confused.

“Should we move ‘em?” One asked, the shorter one.

“Nah,” the main one waved a dismissive hand, “they ain’t no harm, they aren’t going anywhere either. It’s fun to watch them squirm and try to get out, so don’t mind us,” now he was speaking to Chuuya and Dazai, “continue. We aren’t even here.”

The man's smirk rubbed Dazai the wrong way and it definitely annoyed Chuuya.

“You think your fucking funny?” Chuuya growled, and the men howled with laughter.

“This one got a mouth on him!”

Dazai jerked his thigh slightly.

Stop antagonizing them.

But Chuuya had never been one to listen because even when the men had slapped him, one time each, making his head whip from one side to the other, he did not stay quiet. One of the men had reached to grab his hair, and Chuuya bit down on the man's beefy palm, canines bearing down until crimson seeped from the wound.

The man howled and pulled back, face red with anger. Dazai took a moment to enjoy the look on his face before the other two were stepping forward, looking about ready to beat Chuuya to death. Though they never did, instead the man who had been bitten ordered, “Drug him again. I don’t want to hear his smart mouth for the rest of the time.”

Rest of the time?

So they were planning on disposing of them after all.

Chuuya thrashed against the men’s grip though it did not stop the inevitable. The syringe had been stuck into his neck, the same prick mark from before still bright red, and whatever drugs they had put in the needle were injected into Chuuya.

It did not take long for the tenseness to leave his bones. In only half a minute Chuuya had slumped forward like a ragdoll, head landing on Dazai’s neck, his breath against his skin sending a rippling sensation down Dazai’s spine, though the pain was not present. The pain was never there with Chuuya.

“My my, what an impressive concoction you have there,” Dazai finally spoke, genuinely curious. Do you think perhaps I can have the formula? Putting Chuuya to sleep would be a very convenient thing for me.”

The men all looked at each other with the ‘Is this kid serious?’ look. One Dazai received at least once a week.

“No can do,” one finally answered. He was not the brains of the operation, Dazai could tell.

“Say, do you mind telling me who you are exactly? You see, I have a sneaking suspicion though it would be very refreshing if you could confirm it.” Dazai asked and now the men seemed even more perplexed.

The dumb one spoke again, “Well I don’t see any harm. We got em’ all tied up anyways.”

The others shrugged.

“So I take it as a yes?”

“Shut your mouth kid,” the tallest one snarled in what was supposed to be an intimidating way. Dazai was highly amused. “There's a bounty out for your head in America,” he continued, “we’ve never seen ya’ before but you were kids so we figured easy win.”

Everyone figured it was an easy win if they were kids.

Though as to why there was a bounty for their heads in America, Dazai hadn’t the slightest clue.

“Apparently they wanna sell you off or somethin’. Not that it matters cuz’ we don’t give a shit.”

Oh, it made sense now.

“Ah, human traffickers.”

The men all unanimously shrugged, “I guess that's one word for it.”

The shorter one checked his watch, “The ship comes in an hour. Enjoy Yokohama’s air while you’re still here.”

Dazai did not think he would miss the stale smell of the jail cell.

That seemed to be the men's signal to file out of the room because soon enough they left Dazai alone with Chuuya.

If Daza were to guess correctly, it was around twelve at night judging by the moon he could see through the barred-off window. Meaning that whatever they were injected with had knocked them unconscious for three hours. Also meaning that Chuuya would be of no use to him for three hours.

To test his judgment, Dazai shifted his shoulder. Chuuya’s head only lolled more towards Dazai. He did not even let out a peep as he usually did when he slept. It was really quite unsettling.

Dazai would need to get them out himself. Or he could escape himself and let Chuuya wake up in America and destroy the place, though the boss would no doubt punish him for that case scenario.

Now that Chuuya’s wrists were limp, Dazai could move his own to retrieve the pocket knife his partner had hidden. A clever plan on Chuuya’s part, though of course, Dazai would never admit that.

He cringed at the saliva still on the knife as he expertly twisted the blade and in one motion, cut the rope.

He reached around Chuuya and did his other hand.

The rope burn around his wrist would no doubt sting for the next few weeks.

“Alright Chuuya, kindly move out of the way,” months ago Dazai would have pushed Chuuya to the floor and let him hit his head, but now he deeply despised the way he held onto Chuuya’s waist as he bent down to undo the ropes around his own legs.

So now they were free. It was only a matter of finding their way back to the headquarters and reporting to the boss.

The voices in the other room had started up again, and Dazai knew they could easily come back at any moment, so he hefted Chuuya up as he stood, adjusting to the added weight as he silently walked over to the window and lugged Chuuya over the edge. His body fell to the grass with a soft thud and Dazai quickly jumped after him, snickering under his breath.

Instead of feeling the stinging pain with touch, Dazai had only felt warmth tonight.

The scenario after that was not life or death like the others, but Dazai didn’t have much of a choice in the matter.

Corruption had been the one thing that could tear Chuuya apart. That could reduce him to purely Chuuya Nakahara once Arahabaki had been nullified.

And after the fact, once Chuuya was healed up and back on the job, Dazai had noticed how his touches seemed to linger.

Chuuya was not the touchiest person, especially when it came to Dazai. So a mere two weeks after corruption when Chuuya used every excuse to touch him, Dazai simply acknowledged it but never pursued it.

A stray brush to his hand while they walked.

Putting his hand on Dazai's shoulder and pushing him more than usual.

Actually helping him up from the ground after he tripped him, keeping their hands locked for a second more than what was comfortable.

If Dazai didn’t know any better then he would think that Chuuya was attempting to seduce him. Though he did know better and he was curious as to why Chuuya was being so clingy even when he claimed to hate the very thought of Dazai’s touch.

They returned to their hotel room, one they had been using on their out-of-state mission for the past few days late into the night. Or rather, early into the morning at one o’clock.

The strange thing was that Chuuya did not look tired in the slightest. He looked as if he had drunk caffeine and was too wired to go to sleep, even if Dazai knew Chuuya never drank coffee nor did he see him with any energy drinks.

He had a sneaking suspicion.

Even after returning from the steaming shower, Chuuya looked like he would much rather be out taking a jog instead of plopping down on the lounge couch, away from the bed that Dazai occupied.

“Chuuya has been awfully strange today,” Dazai announced, casually staring up at the ceiling and counting the small crevices in them. “Is there anything he wishes to confess?”

“Shut the hell up,” was Chuuya’s immediate response.

Then, ten minutes later, there was a shuffling, and Dazai averted his eyes from the ceiling to see Chuuya standing in the center of the room, looking rather rumpled with his tattered night clothes and messy hair. Now that Dazai had paid attention his eyes looked bloodshot and his fingers twitched every other minute.

“Are you on something, Chuuya?”

Chuuya sighed and buried his blunt fingernails into the skin of his palm, “never mind,” he moved to sit back down on the couch but Dazai sat up and leaned against the headboard.

“No, continue.”

In a normal situation, Chuuya would have ignored him and continued to the couch, though Dazai could see a gleam in his eye, a desperate one. He paused and cautiously pondered over his decision before seemingly deciding that whatever alternant of not talking to Dazai was worse.

Chuuya inhaled shakily before saying, “he won’t shut up.”

Dazai raised an eyebrow and Chuuya looked at him in a slightly unhinged way.

“…He?” Dazai asked. He could take a guess, though he would need to hear it come from Chuuya’s mouth.

“Arahabaki,” Chuuya admitted, his voice cracking. He winced as if the god was whispering in his ear at that very moment.

He very possibly was.

Dazai had never seen Chuuya like this. It made for an interesting sight, one to study, yet at the same time, it made something lodge itself in his throat. He swallowed the lump down but it only returned.

“What is he saying?” Dazai pushed and Chuuya looked as if he was about to do a full-body shudder.

Chuuya shook his head. He wouldn’t answer that question.

“He’s under my skin,” Chuuya growled and Dazai eyed the scratch marks along the redhead's neck. Had he gotten worse while Dazai was away in the shower? The solitude must have made it worse even if Dazai knew he wasn’t the best company to have.

“And the headaches, yes?” Dazai asked because he knew it was more like crippling migraines after corruption had been used.

Chuuya nodded.

Now it made sense.

“So that was the reason you were willingly touching me so much? To get him to be silenced for one moment?”

Chuuya looked to his feet in a very uncharacteristic way and Dazai wished for the Chuuya he knew to make an appearance. It was an unsettling sight.

“I’m going to go the fuck to bed, it’ll be gone by the morning.”

It wouldn’t and they both knew it.

Chuuya shuffled back to the couch, ready to grab the blanket and wrap it around him in hopes of shielding himself from Arahabaki.

And really, what partner would Dazai be if he let him suffer like this? While it could be amusing at points, the amusement had far worn off and only left some dark feeling to swirl in his gut.

“Well, why didn’t Chuuya say so sooner?” Dazai asked, and Chuuya halted.

“Huh?”

“Has Chuuya gone deaf? I said, he should have asked me sooner,” Dazai smirked, “I don’t bite.”

“Yeah,” Chuuya snorted, “sure.”

“Chuuya I am being serious,” Dazai lost all amusement in his time and he watched Chuuya’s eyes slowly widen. He patted the side of the bed next to him.

Chuuya slowly crawled on next to him and Dazai realized that he hadn’t been the only one uncomfortable with touch. It was a new thing for both of them.

Chuuya didn’t touch him at first, simply plopping down onto the bed next to him in a defeated way and staring with vacant eyes.

Dazai remained on his back, barely sparing him a glance. “Tell me, what is it like?”

Chuuya didn’t have to ask for specification because he knew what Dazai had meant.

What’s it like having a god inside of you? Whispering cruel words into your ears?

“Like I’m a fucking psychopath,” Chuuya murmured, voice low. “Like I’m not living in my own skin.”

“Ah,” Dazai hummed, “yes that would be uncomfortable.”

He could see the exhaustion weighing on Chuuya’s eyes so Dazai took action and reached a hand out, lightly brushing the back of his hand against Chuuya’s wrist.

He watched closely and all at once Chuuya slumped, the tension that had corded his muscles gone. The strings holding him together like a marionette doll cut.

Chuuya fell asleep in only a matter of seconds, above the covers and for once not spreading out as usual.

Dazai remained awake. He simply couldn’t sleep, not with the way he had yet to tear his eyes away from Chuuya. He was still, the only indicator that he was alive being the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the breath exhaling past his lips, light ruffling the red hair by his face.

It was strange seeing someone so demanding and who seemed to catch the attention of all of the occupants in the room so subdued, though Dazai had seen a lot of strange things today.

Late into the night was when Dazai had started to drift off, and the next time he opened his eyes, early into the morning. Too early for even the sun to make its appearance, a warm weight had settled across him.

Dazai blinked blearily and looked down to Chuuya with much amusement. He would have snapped a picture but with Chuuya’s arm holding him down across his torso, he simply could not.

Dazai must have been some sort of source that Chuuya radiated towards unconsciously. His ability calming the rage of Arahabaki’s storm.

Dazai had not felt any pain that might, only a comfortable heaviness in his body that made him feel grounded. Chuuya was warm, a furnace, counteracting Dazai’s calloused cold.

Slowly over time Dazai had come to crave Chuuya’s touch, a reliant thing that he did not enjoy but could not help. Of course, multiple more situations had arisen where they were forced to be in close contact, though half of them had been excuses. Dazai had complained about the strange feelings to Odasaku, who simply stared at him with a strange look before returning to his drink, for once, not offering any advice.

But that had all changed when Dazai left.

He had never wanted to leave Chuuya, though he did not have much of a choice in the matter.

Four years he had spent without brushing past Chuuya or even seeing him, so it came as a pleasant shock when he let himself get captured. Half of his reasoning was to get the information for Atsushi, though the other half selfishly wished to see his old partner once again.

Chuuya was not happy with him. Though that was fine, Dazai rather enjoyed the beating because even the knee to his gut did not hurt as bad as the hole in his chest for the past years.

He had grown distant to touch and even Dazai’s coworkers knew not to touch him and on a bad day when someone would unknowingly place a hand on his shoulder, Dazai would take the rest of the day off.

Chuuya had noticed though. Of course, he had. While he may have seemed dull on the outside, reduced to the muscle of their team, he was also observant. Chuuya had purposefully avoided touching him from then on to subject Dazai to torture, though even he could not have resisted the pull between them later when they fought the guild.

They bickered as per usual.

And left a few lingering touches then and there. When Dazai nullified Chuuya’s ability, wrapping nimble fingers around his wrist and assisting him to the ground. When Chuuya put the fist on Dazai’s chest, making something in it pound and hammer, and claimed that he had used corruption because he trusted him.

It was then that Dazai knew things between them were fractured, but not unsalvageable. They had all of the pieces, it was simply a matter of gluing them back together.

Of course, Dazai would give Chuuya time to think about reconnecting, and even if it had taken three months, he knew what the executive's decision would be from the moment he slipped his address into Chuuya’s pocket after the Lovecraft fight.

Dazai had regretted leaving him out in the middle of nowhere, but it had taken all of him not to stay there and simply press his skin against Chuuya’s until he woke up, but they weren’t at that stage yet.

Though apparently, three months later, they were.

There was pounding on his door, so loud that it threatened to knock over, and Dazai knew exactly who it was. It was three in the morning and he had been staring at the ceiling wide awake. He had expected for Chuuya to make a reappearance, just not at such an unethical time.

Chuuya had not changed at all.

“It is open!” Dazai yelled, and the pounding stopped. Chuuya slipped through the door and eyed Dazai’s apartment as he shuffled through it to where Dazai was laying on his futon.

“You live in a dump,” was the first thing he said. And for some reason, Dazai felt laughter bubble up in his throat, and soon enough, Chuuya was looking at him as if he had gone mad while Dazai snickered to himself.

“I’ll come back another time,” he decided, turning back to the door.

“But why did Chuuya travel all the way over here just to leave?”

That seemed to do it because Chuuya slowly turned back around to eye the futon Dazai lay on. Ah, now he understood.

“Chuuya can sleep with me if he would like,” Dazai offered and Chuuya’s face went red with anger.

“You don’t have to say it like that, idiot!”

Dazai blinked innocently, “I have no clue as to what Chuuya is suggesting.”

“Yeah,” Chuuya scoffed, “I'm sure you don’t.”

And Dazai had missed the banter because none of his new co-workers would ever be like Chuuya. None of them would understand him nor would they keep up with him or argue back.

Dazai did not realize how much he had longed for it until Chuuya was standing in front of the futon, arms crossed. He had gotten rid of his jacket and vest, now in a button-up that looked significantly more comfortable than the layers he had previously been wearing.

“Come down here,” Dazai smirked, “I don’t bite.”

Recognition flashed in Chuuya’s eyes and now he was the one smirking, falling forward directly across Dazai, punching the air from the chest.

It was as good of a hug as he was ever going to get.

At first, the touch was scorching, flames nipped at his insides, but just as fast as the pain was there, it was gone, replaced with the all too familiar warmth related to Chuuya.

Chuuya eyed Dazai, “It hurts, doesn't it?”

Dazai continued to stare at the ceiling, “Whatever does Chuuya mean?”

An elbow to his ribs, “You didn’t touch anyone after you left, yeah? So it hurts now.”

Dazai found no use in denying it, so he simply nodded. “Touch is a strange thing.”

And suddenly Chuuya’s fingers were digging into his side and the redhead made a disgruntled noise, “I’m making you fucking eat more.”

Dazai raised an eyebrow and looked back to Chuuya, who had rolled off of him and over to his side. “Is Chuuya asking me out on a date?”

Instead of growing red with a mixture of embarrassment and anger and denying the accusation, Chuuya smirked viciously and something flipped in Dazai’s stomach. “Tomorrow, breakfast at the cafe across the street, are you up to it?”

Dazai took a moment to fake thinking before nodding, “I suppose I can clear some things in my schedule.”

Chuuya once again elbowed him gently before…

He wasn’t turning or going to sleep as usual.

“Turn the fuck around,” Chuuya ordered, and Dazai complied.

“Does Chuuya wish to be the big spoon?”

“You need to get used to the damn touch,” Chuuya explained in a tone laced with sleep and yawned into the back of Dazai’s neck. It made his hair stand on end in a good way. “Now close your eyes and shut up.”

Dazai cut off the retort he was going to make and shut his mouth, simply feeling as Chuuya reached an arm over his side. Focusing on the rise and fall of his chest against his upper back. Dazai lifted his knees slightly higher so Chuuya could slot his in until they were two puzzle pieces.

When Chuuya brushed his hand against Dazai’s stomach it sent thousands of tiny needles to puncture his skin, though they had only made it to the first layer before the feeling was dissolving into a numb tingle.

“Goodnight slug.”

A beat of silence until Chuuya replied, lips against his neck.

“Night Mackerel.”