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Nights in Yokohama were always quiet.
The moon seemed to loom over them like a blanket through the trees, a watchful eye in the clearings of brush.
Tonight was no different.
The cataclysmic event unfolding in front of him was something he’d grown accustomed to over their seven years of partnership. He was never one for kinematics, Dazai Osamu. But if given the chance, he would capture every moment of corruption in a heartbeat.
The sight of Chuuya in his corrupted state was a picture painted long ago, memories always resurfacing when they get paired together for assignments like these.
It was supposed to be an easy mission.
A quick get in and out, something that wouldn’t cause too much of a ruckus. Something quiet.
However, one casualty after another had led them to unleashing the storm that is Chuuya Nakahara upon the enemy hideout.
—
“Dazai!”
He could hardly register anything. In one moment he was on the ground, the next Chuuya was by his side, turning him over with a scowl on his face. It made him huff out at a strained chuckle, which was most definitely a bad idea.
“Chuuya..barbaric as ever.”
“Fucking smart ass. You never told me there’d be an explosion—”
He was swiftly cut off by a bullet whizzing past his side, barely having time to register it until he’d been nicked in the waist. Before Dazai even realised Chuuya was sitting up Tainted was being activated, a piece of debris being hurled toward the enemy. Dazai watched as it collided with the man, and if he wasn’t still struggling to regain his hearing he’d swear that you could hear the faint crackling sound of bones breaking.
Chuuya sighed from where he was now standing over Dazai, helping him prop himself onto the wall before turning on his heel.
Before he left the room they were in he leveled Dazai a look, and he knew exactly what Chuuya was asking.
‘Will you be able to reach me in time?’ He nodded, albeit reluctantly, and watched as the ginger disappeared behind the door.
He knew what he was agreeing to the moment Chuuya walked out, but it still left a bad taste in his mouth. Any time Chuuya used corruption it reminded him of the first, and that..that was a memory better left in the past.
They were more responsible now.
They actually knew how to handle it.
But it still caused so many casualties to account for.
—
Evacuating was easy enough.
Some things didn’t go as planned, (the explosion, for one.) but it was relatively easy to manage. Of course they were both deathly exhausted, however that was at least to be expected.
The drive back to their hideout was quiet. More so than usual, but Dazai blamed it on the obvious fact Chuuya was still in pain.
The only reason he knew the mafioso was still in a good mood was whenever he complained about Dazai taking a turn too rough, or blatantly insulting his “shitty driving skills.” (His words, not Dazai’s.)
Getting out of the car after arriving at their hideout was difficult, but not impossible. Chuuya was still so tense (and worn out) that he had to be extra careful with carrying him inside, but it was nothing he couldn’t manage. The ginger was actually quite light, despite what most would believe when taking in his muscle mass.
Scaling the narrow steps with Chuuya soundly asleep in his arms was tedious, and he was embarrassed to admit he fumbled with the door handle more than once. They were both exhausted, which only added on to his struggle. (He didn’t really mind.)
For being a small cabin in the middle of the woods it was oddly..cozy. The raised ceilings gave it the illusion it was a lot bigger than it actually was, and the warm lighting that flooded the living room after all the lights were turned on made it seem more like an actual home.
How ironic.
After gently setting Chuuya down on the couch he turned on his heel, making his way down the right hallway, towards the bathroom. The one good thing about these safe houses was that they were always stocked with necessities, including medical supplies.
It was a process he was familiar with, patching Chuuya up. Be extra careful with his hands, don’t touch deep corruption scars, and most importantly, make sure he didn’t receive any internal injuries. The worst thing they had to unfortunately learn was that he could still very much hurt himself with his own gravity control, (or lack thereof, during his corrupted state).
Being crushed from the inside out due to lack of control over your own ability sounds like a terrifying way to go.
It was slow and meticulous, and all he wanted to do was rest his joints, but tending to the mafiosos' needs far exceeded his own.
Once he finished wrapping Chuuya’s hands in gauze he sat up, helping the ginger get up as he did so. He felt the smaller man shiver at the close contact, and he internally cursed himself for being so careless.
Chuuya was always extremely sensitive after corruption. Something that they’d learned when his scars first started showing up, and while normally they acted as normal scars would, they got extra sensitive after using corruption. There really wasn’t any explanation as to why, but after the first couple of times they came to accept it for what it was. Resigned to their fate they simply tried to avoid grazing them as much as possible.
That gets increasingly hard, however, when Chuuya happens to sprout more and more scars every single time he activates his corrupted state.
There weren’t many before, but it seems he’s gained new ones nonetheless. They seemed to twist and curl around his arm, and despite not being as red as they are during corruption, they still looked agitated.
Well, it seems that tonight has just gotten even better.
—
The bedroom was dimly lit, only having one bedside lamp to illuminate the room.
He was currently getting undressed in silence, while Dazai was in the bathroom getting a bath ready. If prompted, he’d go to bed without taking one, but the bastard insisted. (And truly, who was he to deny such a soft spoken request?)
Moments with Dazai completely lacking any of his bandages were few and far between, so walking into the bathroom and seeing the man in nothing but his briefs was a welcome surprise.
He leaned into the doorframe for support, his eyebrow elevated, leveling the brunette with a look.
“You’re joining me?”
It caused the taller man to look up, smirking back at him aimlessly.
“Why would I not? We’re both equally as exhausted.”
A brief pause, and his eyes softened. He was looking at Chuuya almost longingly, and it caused the man to squirm in place. He didn’t know how to feel about it.
“Besides, how could I possibly pass up an opportunity like this?”
Whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean, Chuuya actually found himself not wanting to know.
He started sauntering over to the man, leaning down to test the water temperature. It was perfect. Not too hot, bordering on cold so as to not irritate his scars. He glanced over at the brunette who was staring into the bath water, choosing not to meet his gaze.
He scoffed, looking the man up and down before finally slipping out of his underwear and getting in.
It felt weird at first, a slight sting followed by a sudden wave of relief. He allowed himself to relax back into the tub, closing his eyes and letting out a gush of breath he’d been holding in for far too long.
“‘Samu.”
The brunette whipped his head up, staring at him with wide eyes. It was a long pause before he’d regained his composure, speaking in a hushed voice.
“..Yes?”
It was as if he was scared.
Chuuya smiled at his partner, the kind of smile that reached his eyes and made the edges crinkle.
“..Are you gonna just sit there and watch me?”
He spoke in a mocked tone, matching Dazai’s quiet timbre. He saw as the cogs slowly turned in the brunette's head, awaiting an answer that came in the form of an action.
The man stood up, removing his briefs before slowly and carefully getting in behind Chuuya.
It wasn’t exactly cramped, but Dazai’s legs just barely fit inside the full tub, causing him to have to bend them. The sight caused Chuuya to let out a snort, because—seriously—the man's height was comical.
Dazai’s arms came up to rest around the redhead’s waist, and after that, it was quiet.
—
2:38 AM.
He was watching the minutes tick by slowly.
Chuuya had long since gone off to sleep, limbs loosely wrapped around Dazai’s body.
It was another one of those nights.
It was strange, truly. Usually with the mafioso around he actually found it easier to drift off. But there was something—something eating away at him.
“‘Samu.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d been called by his first name.
So why did it sound so different coming from him? Almost..right.
No, no actually. There was absolutely no way to describe it. It simply felt like home. But what does home mean, anymore?
To his former, younger self, it probably meant something more stereotypical. Something family oriented, “home is where the heart is”, and all that crap.
But now it seems to mean something different.
Home, dropping into a certain someone’s penthouse uninvited, yet always being let in. Home, a feeling of ease and a sense of security you get when a particular person is near you. Home, being able to place your heart and soul in the hands of someone you seek for comfort and warmth.
Home is many things, and all of those things lead back to one person.
His home is, without a shred of doubt, Nakahara Chuuya.
But if you asked him what the most terrifying part about that revelation is?
He would do absolutely anything to keep him. If it came to it, he would choose Chuuya over the world any day. It would sooner be burnt to the ground before he let go of the fiery redhead.
How..oddly domestic.
—
The sun peaked in through the window, the dewy morning fog breaking apart the rays of light. Being so deep in the mountains, surrounded by nature and its sounds, it gave the cabin an oddly peaceful atmosphere.
He wouldn’t mind always waking up like this.
He turned his head to the side, causing his nose to brush against Chuuya’s. The sight of him in the morning was scarce, but not unwelcome.
Dazai propped himself up on his elbow, staring down at the sleeping beauty.
He looked so unfair like this.
So at peace with the world. Their world.
His hair sticking out like a sore thumb against the white pillows, framing his face with a halo of fiery red. He moved to push a piece out of the man's face, hand lingering on his cheek for just a few moments too long.
He watched as oceanic blue eyes fluttered open, taking in their environment before looking up at the brunette.
“I feel…like shit.”
They both huffed out tiny laughs, and he found himself flinching when Chuuya’s hand came up to rest on his own, keeping it secured to his cheek. He hadn’t realized he didn’t move it. (Neither of them dared comment on it, but they both knew the other didn’t mind.)
“Osamu?”
This time, he was ready.
“Yes?”
This time it was Chuuya who paused, taking the brief moment to turn his head and plant a kiss in Dazai’s palm. Speaking into it with a softness that could only be described as heavenly.
“You should come over later.”
Fin.