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Sitting in the rubble, with sirens in the distance, smoke and blood littering the battlefield, Dazai let out a frustrated sigh as he looked to the boy lying in his lap.
Staring intensely at the unconscious redhead, he resisted the urge to shove him away and leave him to his own devices amidst the chaos, if only to emphasize his annoyance with the other’s reckless behavior.
This was the fourth time in the past two months that Chuuya had used corruption and he could feel the last of his patience wearing thin along with any tolerance he had towards these ridiculous missions they’d been put on recently.
You see, Mori had been becoming a bit too trigger-happy when it came to the deadly ability, finding ways to push Chuuya into situations that could warrant it, regardless of the repercussions the ginger’s body would face.
Still, that wasn’t what was erking Dazai so much. He knew how much of a manipulative sadist Mori could be, driven mad with power by having a god who was loyal to him at his fingertips. Even Dazai himself was guilty of using the hatrack’s strength for his own gain.
But no, he was pissed because Chuuya was going along with it. Every time Mori even hinted at using the destructive power Chuuya harnessed, the dumb slug would jump at the opportunity.
Dazai wasn’t blind, he knew the grief Chuuya carried after the death of his friends, finding out the origins of his life and ability. While he thought it was foolish and naive to be so heartbroken over the deaths of such lowlife mafia grunts, it was also so Chuuya. So human, it almost made him sick.
It wasn’t hard to put two and two together, clearly, this eagerness to use his full power was an attempt for the ginger to fill the growing void in his heart.
The brunette couldn’t say he didn’t understand what it was like, turning to self-destruction in a feeble attempt to cover up all the pain and darkness lurking inside every corner of his mind. Still, it wasn’t right on Chuuya.
Chuuya was a bright, glowing ball of fire, ready to burn others to the ground while still providing a comforting warmth that surrounded Dazai’s being whenever he went near.
It was a feeling Dazai only ever got when they were together, that buzzing warmth that almost reached the hole where his heart would be. It was a weakness, he realized, the way he chased after that feeling, the high it gave him. It pulled him in like a drug, reworking his shattered mind, if only to keep Chuuya around; to keep him to himself, trapped in his arms so nobody else would find out just how wonderful that burning fire was.
Dazai chose to stay ignorant, telling himself that Chuuya was his.
His dog, his partner, his to hold, his to kiss, his to bite, his to take to bed, his, his, his.
He would grasp onto that idea like a lifeline, insisting that he had graciously taken Chuuya for himself simply because he could, because he was superior.
He would never admit the truth to himself; that it was the other way around, that he lived off of every ounce of attention Chuuya gave to him: every insult, every punch, every kiss, every smile. The very thought of admitting to himself just how much he needed the other boy was too much for his empty heart to take. So, he simply wouldn’t speak of it.
Still, he found himself unable to resist acting on it.
Hence, he was here, in the middle of the night, sitting in the wreckage of Arahabaki’s true power with his tiny slug sitting limply in his lap and his face tucked away in the crook of Dazai’s neck as he let out pained, jagged breaths.
When the redhead finally started to stir, it was with a pained noise, one that Dazai could almost call a whimper.
“Hmm, seems the chibi is finally waking up!” The brunette said with feigned cheerfulness and an undertone laced with his annoyance.
“Nnghh... Dazai..?” The boy croaked out, body stiff and uncoordinated while slowly glancing up at the other.
Dazai looked down at him in return, his expression much more serious than his tone would have implied as he took a minute to assess Chuuya’s condition.
His injuries didn’t seem too severe, meaning they likely wouldn’t have to make a visit to Mori, barring any internal bleeding. For now, their biggest challenge would be the bruising, the oozing cuts, and the inevitable exhaustion Chuuya would have— that, and the clinginess his slug seemed to develop for the first 24-48 hours after using Corruption.
“Chuuya was very stupid today,” he said coldly, adjusting them more so he could fully look at Chuuya’s face.
Yet again, despite his harsh tone, his hands were uncharacteristically gentle; one moving to cradle the back of Chuuya’s head and support its weight, while the other wiped some blood from his lip.
Chuuya let out a soft sigh at that, eyes falling shut as he embraced every touch.
“Shoulda… not let your ass get shot at then…” He mumbled defiantly, earning an unseen eye roll from the brunette.
“And Chuuya should’ve been paying more attention to where the enemy was. I know dogs need commands from their owners but really, your slow little slug brain couldn’t handle keeping watch while I interrogated?”
Chuuya began to argue back, only to spiral into a coughing fit, his body racking with each cough and nearly falling out of Dazai’s hold, if not for the younger’s quick reflex to pull him closer to his chest.
Dazai let out a sigh and began gently shushing the other, brushing some hair out of the ginger’s eyes as he finally caught his breath.
“I’ll finish telling Chibi how careless he was later. First, I need to get him home and into bed. Such a little person needs lots of rest!”
Chuuya seemed to have run out of steam as he didn’t respond to that, instead just dejectedly staring off into nothing as Dazai moved to stand up, hooking one arm under Chuuya’s knees while the other supported his back.
The way home was long. Waiting for the mafia-owned car to arrive was long. Sitting in the car while Chuuya fought against unconsciousness, insisting he could handle himself despite Dazai still needing to support his head for him, was long. Getting up the elevator with Chuuya hacking up a lung and dripping blood everywhere was long.
After what felt like forever, they were finally past the threshold of Chuuya’s apartment door and Dazai unceremoniously dropped the other teen onto the couch, only feeling slightly bad when Chuuya let out a loud, pained whine.
The brunette then took a moment to collect himself, taking a deep breath before moving to grab their usual “post-corruption” supplies: first aid kit, a water bottle, some crackers (in case Chuuya is actually able to stomach something), wet rags to clean up with, comfortable clothes for the both of them to change into, and Chuuya’s softest blanket, a blue one with paw prints all over it. (Dazai had given it to him as a gag gift which he, of course, got punched for, but despite all the redhead’s protests, it was his go-to on hard nights).
Looking around at everything he collected, Dazai momentarily grimaced at just how much effort he had been putting in for his partner and felt disgusted by it (or at least he told himself it was disgust). Still, he didn’t linger on that thought for too long and instead got to work patching the slug up, reminding himself that the sooner it was done, the sooner he could finally lay down.
“Alright, hatrack. You know the drill,” he said with a big smile, slowly removing Chuuya’s clothing so he could have better access to his wounds.
Of course, only half-conscious, Chuuya attempted, and failed, to shove Dazai’s hands away, letting out a frustrated noise.
Dazai sighed once more, grasping onto the last of his patience.
“Don’t give me that look, you’re the one who was stupid enough to use Corruption in the first place. You knew this would be the outcome, so hold still and shut it,” he snapped.
Even in the dim yellow light, Dazai could see the moment tears began to fill Chuuya’s eyes, the exhaustion and overwhelming pain finally getting to the redhead.
Dazai grimaced as he looked at how the older teen bit his lip to hold back any more complaints or sounds of pain, deciding to quickly finish up his work on stitching and bandaging his wounds instead of apologizing.
The room was filled with silence other than Chuuya’s involuntary sniffles until it came time to wipe the other clean of the dry blood stuck to his skin and Dazai at last said, “Chuuya’s had a long day. We’re going to finish up here, have you drink some water, and then we’re done. Don’t make it harder on yourself, slug.”
Finally, Chuuya nodded, reaching out weakly for a hug, which Dazai complied with after only a moment of hesitation.
As he held the other with one arm, he used the other to drag the wet cloth along Chuuya’s bruised and battered skin, using caution to avoid agitating any injuries.
“Chibi will have to forgive me for not giving him a bath tonight but he’s so tiny I worry he might fall down the drain! We’ll have to just brush out what we can of his hair for now,” the brunette said, not voicing his true concern of Chuuya being too overwhelmed by a bath and needing the sleep rather soon before his condition worsened.
Still, the ginger picked up on the underlying meaning, playing along by grumbling, “Bastard, I’m still growing… Just make sure my hair doesn’t fall out ‘cause of your gross mackerel hands…”
Even with his angry words, Dazai felt that pleasing warmth again as Chuuya nuzzled his face back into the crook of his neck, pausing his cleaning to leave a lingering kiss to the older teen’s temple.
After what felt like forever, Chuuya was as clean as they were gonna get him and Dazai made quick work of changing them into pajamas. He didn’t bother washing himself up, knowing they were both on a time limit for how long they’d last until someone collapsed from exhaustion.
So, the younger boy carefully sat on the couch with his chibi once again in his lap, helping him drink from the water bottle and pulling his hair into a messy ponytail for the time being.
“Chuuya’s always so cuddly like this,” Dazai remarked in a tone that he will forever deny is fond. “Careful slug, or someone might think you like hugging me,” he teased.
To his surprise, Chuuya didn’t argue, instead just looking up at Dazai with tired eyes before hugging him as tightly as his overused limbs could.
Dazai stared down at him with wide eyes. Of course, they did this often, holding each other intimately like this. But whenever pointed out, they always denied the idea that it was genuine affection. This was new, and yet he still found himself holding Chuuya the same way like he was afraid the other would change his mind and walk away.
Chuuya was his, he would keep it that way for as long as he could and it seemed Chuuya was happy with that arrangement.
But maybe, just maybe, he could play around with the idea that he was also Chuuya’s.
After all, there had to be worse fates than this; sleeping on the couch with his slug on his chest as the sun rose over Yokohama city, leaving a golden light in the room where Soukoku would hide for the next few hours, where their world consisted of just them.