Chapter Text
1.
Arguing with the bastard over video games during the weekends wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for Chuuya but this time the mackerel has really crossed the limit.
“Seriously? How old are you? Five?”
“Five whole centimeters taller than you, yes, and I have no idea what the chibi is yapping about.”
“You fucking sneezed on me?!”
“Silly Chuuya I can’t control my body now, can I? If a port mafia executive is getting distracted by a sneeze and losing a match, is it really my fault?”
“Can’t control my body, my ass. You can literally control your heartbeat, shithead” Chuuya scoffs. He was a few milliseconds away from flinging his partner out of the window of their shared apartment but honestly, the suicidal brat would probably be just happy if he gets to die so soon so easily and Chuuya can’t let that happen.
“Doesn’t change the fact that I won” Dazai says ignoring whatever Chuuya said, “Now according to our bet I get to give you a haircut however I like.”
“No chance in hell I’m letting you come anywhere near my hair.”
“But Chibi-”
Chuuya glares at him.
Dazai continues, unfazed by Chuuya's icy stare. "Oh, come on, Chibi. Don't be like that.” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Chuuya crossed his arms, narrowing his gaze even further. "I don't care about your stupid bet. There's no way I'm letting you ruin my hair," he retorted, adamant in his refusal.
Dazai tilted his head, a playful smirk forming on his lips. "Well, well, Chuuya. Are you afraid I might actually make you look better than you already do?"
Chuuya's eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and annoyance evident on his face. "Like I would believe that someone who looks like a mummy would have any sense of fashion."
Dazai chuckled, stepping closer to Chuuya. "You wound me, Chuuya”
Before Chuuya could retort back, his phone buzzed. He furrowed his brows as he read the text before letting out a sigh. “They found the trails of Kurohoshi-kai. Boss wants us to report to his office right now for debriefing.” Chuuya informs.
“Right now? Can’t it wait? They aren’t even a proper threat to us” Dazai whines clearly not wanting to leave. At least not without convincing Chuuya about the haircut.
Chuuya snorts “Stop complaining. Let’s go.”
Turns out Kurohoshi-kai was, in fact, a formidable enemy which kept double black busy for the next few weeks trying to stop the situation from escalating. Their bet lay forgotten.
2.
Dazai walked down the sterile white hallway, the scent of antiseptic filling his nostrils as he approached the hospital room. Anxiety gnawed at his insides, twisting his emotions into a tangled mess. He tries to bite back the guilt that kept suffocating him with every step he took since the incident happened a few hours ago.
Pushing open the door, Dazai's gaze fell upon Chuuya, lying still on the bed. Tubes and wires connected him to various machines, a lifeline that kept him rooted to the realm of the living. The sight struck Dazai like a dagger to the heart, and he couldn't help but think of numerous other tactics he could’ve used to stop Chuuya from using corruption.
What’s the point of being the demon prodigy if my partner has to constantly give up his humanity so their missions can be successful, Dazai thinks bitterly.
This isn’t the first time Chuuya has used corruption and neither was it going to be the last time. However, this time Dazai truly believed that he was going to lose his chibi.
Dazai isn’t dumb. He knows being in the mafia means they’re constantly at a risk of dying but that doesn’t make him feel any less helpless.
As he stood by the bedside, a surge of rage coursed through Dazai's veins. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. Anger was a familiar companion, but this time it mingled with the profound guilt, creating a volatile mix of emotions within him.
Chuuya remained motionless. Dazai's fixated his gaze on his partner’s fiery red hair, the vibrant locks that had always captured his attention. How many times had he wanted to run his fingers through that hair, to feel its silkiness between his fingertips? But now, that desire was tainted by the haunting memories of blood matted in Chuuya's hair just a few hours ago.
A pang of pain shot through Dazai's chest, as if a phantom hand reached out and gripped his heart. He recoiled, his own hand retreating as if burned. The weight of his guilt settled heavily upon him, smothering any remaining desire he had to touch Chuuya's hair. At that moment, it felt as though he didn't deserve to touch Chuuya, not after what had happened.
Dazai couldn't bear to stay any longer, to witness Chuuya's suffering while knowing he had played a part in it. With the new ideas of how he could avoid Chuuya getting further hurt during future missions plaguing his mind, Dazai turned away from the hospital room.
Chuuya woke up alone in the hospital room.
3.
Dazai and Chuuya were on another covert mission, a familiar scenario for the skilled duo. Their objective: infiltrate a high-profile party, assume false identities, and gather crucial information. The mission seemed straightforward enough, but little did Dazai know that it would pose an unexpected challenge.
As they prepared to enter the party venue, Dazai found himself constantly getting distracted by Chuuya’s hair. lt seemed to glow under the dim lights, casting a fiery aura around him. Dazai couldn't help but steal glances, his mind wandering off track.
Chuuya, noticing Dazai's distraction, raised an eyebrow and asked, "Oi? What are you staring at hah?" while fixing his hair.
Caught off guard, Dazai panicked for a moment, not wanting to reveal the true reason behind his absentmindedness. He hastily replied, “The chibi looks particularly ugly tonight.”
Chuuya rolled his eyes, used to his partner’s comments. He was no stranger to Dazai's peculiar behaviour and had grown accustomed to it.
The target they were after, a prominent figure in the criminal underworld, finally made their appearance at the party. Dazai snapped back into focus, his professional demeanor taking over as he locked eyes with Chuuya. They exchanged a silent understanding, knowing their roles and the importance of their mission.
As they mingled with the partygoers, Dazai’s thoughts kept racing back to Chuuya’s hair and how it looked so soft to touch-
Why am I thinking about the hattrack, Dazai snaps at himself annoyed.
Determined, Dazai focused his attention on the target, eavesdropping on conversations and extracting valuable information. Dazai's keen observational skills allowed him to gather critical details while maintaining the facade of a nonchalant partygoer.
Chuuya, ever the reliable partner, kept a watchful eye on their surroundings, ensuring their cover remained intact. He discreetly relayed signals to Dazai, prompting him to take note of crucial conversations or suspicious individuals.
As the night progressed, Dazai found himself in the midst of a dilemma. His weird fascination with Chuuya refused to be silenced. With each passing moment, his desire to card his fingers through Chuuya’s hair grew stronger.
Yet, amidst the chaos of their mission, Dazai remained professional. He compartmentalized his feelings, channeling them into his work. The mission's success was his priority, even if it meant suppressing his emotions.
In the end, their mission was a resounding success. They extracted the necessary information, slipping away from the party unnoticed, their identities still intact. As they retreated to their safehouse, Chuuya finally spoke up.
“What’s up with you today? Quit staring at me weirdly.”
“Chuuya looks so much like a slug today.” Dazai replies back smoothly.
“You’re impossible” Chuuya mutters angrily as he stomps away.
Later that night, Dazai wonders what would’ve happened if he actually admitted to Chuuya that he liked the way Chuuya’s hair looked tonight. That he liked the way Chibi himself looked tonight. That he likes Chuu-
He shakes away those thoughts before he comes to even more disgusting conclusions.