Chapter Text
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Why not? I even agreed to make it worth the Chibi’s while, and I don’t ever do that!” Dazai whined, rounding out his eyes in some misguided attempt to earn Chuuya’s sympathies.
It wasn’t working.
“What could you possibly offer me? Money? I have more than enough, thanks.” He replied, more than a little curious as to what sort of situation could make Dazai of all people ask for Chuuya’s help. The sky wasn’t collapsing, nor had the Agency been relabelled as terrorists— to the best of his knowledge, at least— which meant that Chuuya was pretty much out of guesses. He supposed it could be something stupid, which certainly wouldn’t be unprecedented, but with the way Dazai was acting Chuuya doubted it. If the vagabond wanted to send him on some sort of wild goose chase, he’d be playing it up about how serious the situation was. But the man before him wasn’t doing that. In fact, it looked to Chuuya like Dazai was forcing some amount of playful nonchalance into his body language, and that alone was what interested him.
As Dazai sat on the edge of Chuuya’s well-kept desk, he had to resist the urge to shove the bandaged menace to the ground. The sight of him there conjured up images from their shared past that Chuuya would rather leave buried in the depths of his subconscious. Not that he would ever admit it, as it would give Dazai a wealth of ammunition in his never-ending quest to piss Chuuya off.
Presumably reading the suppressed intention on his face, Dazai’s fake playfulness veered a touch into the genuine, and Chuuya felt— and heard— the pained creak of his leather gloves. His hands were nearly trembling as he forced himself not to vault over the desk and beat the man into the ground. Dazai didn’t deserve to be playful with him, not now, not ever. He’d lost that right when he ruined Chuuya’s life the first time, not that that had ever stopped Dazai. Men like him just took whatever they wanted, used whoever they needed, with absolutely zero regard to how their actions affected others. And it wasn’t as if Dazai was unaware of these consequences, he just flat out did not care. Now, Chuuya was by no means a saint. He’d done more than his fair share of bad in the world, but he also had limits, loyalties, and a code he held himself to. That was what separated him from Dazai. And that is what made them such a horrifically effective team.
It was embarrassing, the way Dazai had always affected him. Chuuya prided himself on being a rational, dependable man. But something about his ex-partner effortlessly turned him into everything he didn’t want to be— a hothead without a sane thought in his head. Truly, it was no wonder Dazai alone had been able to help him unlock his corrupted form all those years ago. There were times Chuuya even wondered what the trajectory of his life would’ve looked like, had he never kicked Dazai into that wall. After all, it was him that orchestrated the Sheep’s betrayal, pulling Chuuya into the Port Mafia in the first place. And the mafia was what cost him the Flags, what cost him the peace of mind he lost the very first time he activated Corruption.
“Anything.”
Chuuya stopped short. Of all the possible, tangible, things Dazai could offer up in regard to this vague favor, he was instead offering anything? Had the famed Demon Prodigy lost his negotiating edge? Was he really that desperate? Chuuya could no longer hold in his disbelieving laugh, and Dazai’s answering grimace only made him laugh harder.
Wiping a non-existent tear from his eye, Chuuya fixed Dazai with a sharp, toothy smile. “Let’s hear what this favor is first, and then it’ll be up to me to decide a fair price, no?” He asked, reveling in the pinched look Dazai had taken on. He clearly didn’t like not being able to micromanage everything around him, and Chuuya loved that he was the one putting that look on Dazai’s face. It brought him a level of bone-deep satisfaction that no amount of high quality wine or experienced bedpartners could ever hope to match.
Dazai slipped off of the desk with a practiced sort of ease, though his expression was anything but content. It was all Chuuya could do not to start laughing again, lest he delay getting to hear what could possibly drive Dazai to offer him anything. Given their shared past, and the level of animosity between them, it was a wonder that proposition ever made it to the table. Chuuya could request any number of harmful, humiliating, expensive things, and Dazai would what? Just comply? It was a heady feeling, that prospect. Privately, Chuuya is pretty sure he’d do anything Dazai asked, if only to prolong the feeling.
Chuuya watched, continuing to suppress his glee, as Dazai drifted over toward his floor-to-ceiling windows. Legs tensing up, Chuuya prepared to launch himself over his desk if the mackerel got any ideas about opening them. Nothing was getting Dazai out of this deal, not if Chuuya had anything to say about it.
But Dazai only stared out of them, face almost entirely hidden from Chuuya. He was clearly arguing with himself, weighing the pros and cons like always. None of that concerned Chuuya though. He was almost entirely sure Dazai had already made up his mind, he was just pissy that things wouldn’t be going his way. The bastard could deliberate until tomorrow morning for all Chuuya cared, just getting to see his supposedly unflappable ex-partner out of his element was gift enough.
…
The grin on his face was wide enough to hurt by the time Dazai had finished agonizing.
“I have a question I need answered, and the two of us specifically are… uniquely suited to get those answers.” Dazai said, voice almost entirely flat.
Chuuya fixed him with an even flatter look. “It took you that long to come up with that? You’re forgetting how well I know you, bastard. If I wanted your diplomatic answer I would’ve asked for it. What specifically would I be doing?” He asked, now even more curious. Just an answer? What kind of question would require him and Dazai in particular? And why in the world was Dazai being so weird about it?
Dazai sighed. “We know of the existence of other universes.” Chuuya nodded, though it was probably an unnecessary affirmative. The business with Fyodor and that sword had been horrifically messy, and it was unlikely to be forgotten any time soon. Dazai continued, “One of these universes has the answer I need. But not just anyone can hold up to the kind of strain interdimensional travel exerts on the body.” That was an understatement. The people who had come through those portals had… deteriorated. Quickly. It was another image not easily forgotten. “I think there are people who can do it. For instance, someone whose body has already crossed dimensions,” Chuuya didn’t think he liked where this was going. “And someone potentially immune to the effects of Ability-related travel.” Dazai finished, taking in a breath like he’d given his entire spiel in one.
Chuuya had to swallow back the scream that ached to be free, and instead replied as calmly as he knew how. “Okay. Let’s pretend for a second that this isn’t the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard leave your mouth. I can maybe understand why you’d think I can survive it, sure. But you?” Dazai rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to respond, but Chuuya just continued on, “‘Potentially immune’? That sounds a whole lot like you don’t know what might happen. What happens when you hop to another dimension and end up like… them?” He asked. Chuuya was by no means worried about Dazai specifically, but he also could not stomach watching that happen again, not even to Dazai. It was also highly impractical to let the bastard throw himself into a suicide portal without a care in the world.
Dazai rolled his eyes again, and Chuuya resisted the urge to toss him out the window. “I’ve calculated the probability of something like that, but I’ll spare the Chibi a lecture he wouldn’t understand anyway. All Chuuya needs to know is that it’ll work.” Dazai said, his air of superiority back in full swing.
“Well if you’re so damn smart, what do you need me for?” Chuuya asked, glaring at Dazai like he could kill the man through sheer eye contact alone.
Dazai just closed his eyes and turned on his heel, waving back behind himself flippantly. “Oh you know, just in case I need to point him in the direction of some other brainless brute. I’ll send for the hatrack when I need him~”
Chuuya was so fed up with this man he wanted to scream, rip his hair out, and tear Dazai limb from limb. Preferably in that order. It was so frustrating, dealing with Dazai’s constant antics.
Gritting his teeth, Chuuya stood from his seat. “Fine then. I get something from this, don’t I?”
Dazai stopped, but did not turn back around to face him. “I suppose I did say that.”
There wasn’t even a hint of a smile on Chuuya’s face as he spoke. “What I want, when this is all over, is to never see you again.”
Chuuya heard a slight exhale, but nothing else to indicate Dazai’s reaction to his demand. Until,
“Deal.”