Work Text:
“That wasn’t a very nice way to wake up Snow White,” Dazai complains weakly, as the roaring in Chuuya’s ears grows louder. Chuuya’s foggy mind finds the comparison aptly fitting, not necessarily due to the involvement of poison and apples, but because Dazai right now looks the part; white from blood loss, dark hair, lips red with blood – he giggles, because he can’t stop himself.
Dazai raises both eyebrows in a silent question from where he leans against the crumbled wall. Somewhere behind them the battle continues, but this place provides them a semblance of shelter.
“Shut up, shitty Snow White,” Chuuya mumbles and knees give out. He collapses against Dazai’s chest, drawing an ‘oof’ from the other. With the stab wound untreated, Dazai should be careful, but Chuuya can’t find the strength to hold himself up. His head spins, but the usual blackness doesn’t come.
“You’re not making a good prince, either,” Dazai returns with exasperation. Despite the tone, Chuuya feels an arm around him, and he’s carefully arranged on Dazai’s lap. It’s more comfortable like this. Chuuya feels surprisingly unconcerned, even about the outcome of the fight. Perhaps it’s overexertion and he is dying. But he allows the tension to drain from his limbs and the slight warmth of Dazai’s body to soak into him.
“I’d always considered myself more like the huntsman,” Chuuya idly replies.
He doesn’t see Dazai’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “The huntsman?”
“Yeah.” Chuuya exhales, and blinks. Despite the weariness of his body, he’s not passing out and even manages to focus on Dazai’s face. “Always expected Mori to send me after you one day.”
It’s testament to Dazai’s own exhaustion that Chuuya can see how his words take the other back, can see how the wheels behind that smooth face turn. Corruption is blissfully silent right now, and Chuuya wonders if Dazai wouldn’t benefit from somebody cancelling out his mind every now and then.
“It’s like in the tale,” Chuuya continues, because something about the combination of utter exhaustion and not passing out makes him chatty. “And Mori’s the evil queen. Only he’s not worried you’ll get more beautiful than him, but that you’ll outsmart him one day.”
Dazai purses his lips. He’s still got some strands of hair tucked behind his ear and Chuuya wants to reach up and untuck it. Wants to do away with those white clothes too, even if they fit Snow White. “I already left the mafia.”
Chuuya also wants to shrug, but he can’t lift a finger. “You’re not dead. In the tale the evil queen wasn’t happy when she learned that Snow White had joined the dwarves, either.”
“The agency is the dwarves?” Dazai’s eyes sparkle with mirth. “I’ve got to tell them.”
“You’re certainly the same nuisance on them as that princess was when she first got there. Eating other people’s food and all,” Chuuya grumbles. Sometimes he does wonder how Dazai managed to fit in there, how people are handling him. These thoughts only occur when he’s nearly passed out, unable to guide them into another direction, and away from the fact that after everything, he doesn’t wish any ill on Dazai.
“That’s mean.” Dazai pouts. “Chuuya’s mean.”
A quite snort tears itself from Chuuya. “Really? Wasn’t the huntsman executed when he failed to deliver Snow White’s heart to the queen?” He has to wonder at himself, but he thinks he said worse things when delirious with fever and exhaustion back when they still were partners. Dazai must have him heard mutter more confusing words, even if what he sees now on Dazai’s face looks like honest affection.
“I’m not sure…” he begins and swallows. Hard. It catches Chuuya’s attention. “Snow White must have known what the queen would do to the huntsman. If she sent him back, she must have wanted him dead. It makes sense; he’s the only one who managed to track her after all.”
Chuuya’s not certain what Dazai’s trying to say - he would let Mori kill him? But Dazai’s expression says something different, and after everything, nothing of that has come to pass.
“I don’t think it was a good move,” Dazai says and it sounds like an admission. “The huntsman made for a powerful ally, and he was loyal. She’d have done better to either ask him to stay with her.” There’s quietness to his voice Chuuya doesn’t think he’s ever heard before, and his heart shudders. The grip on his body tightens ever so slightly, and Chuuya doesn’t dare to think on the implications - except his exhausted mind can’t do anything but.
Does this mean Dazai will ask him to join him when the time comes?
“I think the huntsman is rather loyal to the kingdom, after all,” Chuuya finds himself replying. Testing the waters. They’re still speaking in metaphors, and with Dazai he’s never certain how much he means, but right now he feels honest. Raw.
Dazai’s lips quirk. “Then maybe the kingdom needs a change of government.” The darkness in his eyes is familiar.
Something cold runs down Chuuya’s spine. For all that they are veiled words, Dazai saying he’d kill Mori on Chuuya’s behalf is something he’s never dared to envision, dared to even dream. He’d always suspected that after all the time they spent together this mutual trust ran deeper - he’d even admitted this to himself. But to know Dazai more or less feels the same. He swallows.
“The queen knows this, too,” Dazai says, quietly. A hand of his begins to gently card to Chuuya’s hair. “Which is why she hasn’t sent the huntsman for Snow White’s heart."
“She must also suspect the huntsman couldn’t take it, then,” Chuuya says and it sounds like a confession.
Dazai’s eyes widen ever so slightly. His lips curl in a smile that encompasses honest warmth. “Really, Chuuya,” he sighs. “Maybe the huntsman should take it after all. It would avoid a lot of trouble.”
“He couldn’t,” Chuuya insists, and he doesn’t care that it casts his heart out in the open. If the battle goes ill, he tells himself, nothing will matter anyway.
“Then Snow White should really choose the huntsman instead of the prince,” Dazai replies, equally transparent.
Chuuya can’t help the retort. “Wasn’t the prince’s kiss the only thing that could wake her?”
“That was true love,” Dazai says, and the twist to his face as he speaks the words is nearly comical. However, Chuuya must admit he hasn’t ever expected to hear the words ‘true love’ from Dazai either. Especially as they both register what the metaphor means for them.
“Well,” Dazai clears his throat, face abruptly flushed, and Chuuya would be giggling if his body wasn’t so sore. “In any case, I think Atsushi-kun and Akutagawa are winning.”
When Chuuya comes to the next time, the battle is over. His ability remains, so he guesses Atsushi and Akutagawa did win. Which means he gets to live with his words, but the strangely peaceful feeling in his chest remains. He finds he doesn’t mind the unintentional confession too much - he’s always liked to be honest with his feelings.
Dazai lies next to him, passed out. Chuuya is a little surprised - he’d expected Dazai to have arranged for an extraction, but with the chaos the city had been thrown into, even a genius may have met his limits. In any case, he looks exhausted, and Chuuya remembers that he had been stabbed. He wonders for a moment if there’s a version of the story where the huntsman absconds with Snow White to live in rural France. But then there’s the Order active on the continent plus several other organizations, so chances are they’d not truly find some peace and quiet there.
Chuuya pushes himself to his feet, stretches. There’s smoke around him, but not much, and the city skyline looks mostly intact. Screams and sirens in the distance have fallen silent, too, and instead there’s birdsong filling the air. Perhaps Snow White and the Huntsman will have to have a clandestine affair before either a prince shows up, or the queen decides to give the order after all.
Maybe one day, Chuuya thinks as he looks to the blue sky. Or maybe never.
There’s small smile on his face that turns into a smirk when he turns back to Dazai.
“Oi, dwarves!”
The agency, back in their damaged headquarters, turn as one at Chuuya’s entrance. Atsushi’s eyes widen dramatically, Kunikida reaches for a gun, and Ranpo pales as they catch sight of Dazai’s limp body in Chuuya’s arms. Undaunted, Chuuya makes a beeline for the couch that miraculously survived Yokohama's near destruction.
“I’m returning your princess.”
He drops Dazai on the couch, white coat and all.