Archive of Our Own

Dazai strides into the Café Uzumaki with a grin plastered on his face and a chipper, “Lucy-chan! Long time, no see!”

Lucy narrows her eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be, like, in hiding or something? Mr. One Billion Accounts Of Murder?”

“Okay, there were only a hundred thirty-eight,” he corrects. Pauses for a moment, then amends, “that they could trace back to me, at least.” He plops himself down on a stool at the counter, propping his cane up against the bar. “You aren’t going to turn me in, are you? I’m literally nice!”

“I can’t recall a single time you’ve come in here and bought something with your own money,” Lucy points out. She watches as Dazai rests his chin in his hands, staring at her with that slightly-unnerving smile, like he’s staring into her soul and picking at which insecurities he might be able to target in order to get what he wants. “So why are you here? Did you finally manage to swipe Kunikida-san’s credit card again?”

Dazai pouts. “No. He’s always busy doing work. Bleh.” He sticks his tongue out.

“I’d say that’s what you should be doing, but we both know there’s no business in the country that would hire you.” Lucy sighs. “Alright, what do you want? Do you need to use Anne’s Room for some crazy plan again?”

“Nope!” Dazai perks up. “I just need you and your beautiful face! And also your attachment to the Guild.”

Lucy hesitates. Last she checked, the Agency was on good terms with Fitzgerald—they shouldn’t need her, of all people, to play mediator. She wouldn’t want to, anyway. She left for a reason, and she most certainly does not intend on crawling back to the very same group that tossed her aside like a piece of trash. If Dazai wants to use the Eyes of God or whatever, he can just have another Agency member ask.

“I’m not with the Guild anymore,” she reminds him. “You’d have better luck sending the tiger-kitty or Yosano-sensei to bargain with them.”

“I don’t need to bargain,” Dazai counters. “I just need an invitation.”

Lucy raises her eyebrows. “An invitation?” She hasn’t heard talk of Fitzgerald hosting anything, but then again, she’s kind of been ghosting everyone in the Guild other than Poe, who also is not part of the Guild anymore. Technically. Maybe? Actually, she’s not quite sure.

None of that is important, though. Her original point still stands—he could just have someone ask Fitzgerald for an invitation. She doubts he would turn them down. It’s not like he believes the Agency was in the wrong in the whole Decay of Angels debacle, and legally, everyone’s names were cleared with the sole exception of Dazai, so there would be no reason to completely deny them.

“The Guild has been formally invited to a government-hosted gala. It will take place in the same building as an office I’d really like to access. Attending the gala would be the easiest way to get there, considering the amount of security in and around the building. I asked someone else to take me but—” he makes a face. “I don’t think we like each other at the moment.”

“Does anyone really like you?” Lucy retorts. She sighs, hands lifting to play with one of her braids. “Look, I don’t know what your goal is here, but I don’t think I can go beg forgiveness from my former boss and pretend I want my old job back just so I can bring a very high-ranking criminal into a government building with sensitive information.” She doesn’t mind helping the Agency, really, but this is…a bit much. Especially considering she’s still lacking on the details. She has standards for herself, alright? And those don’t make any allowances for groveling before a guy who clearly never liked her much.

Dazai looks around, even though they’re very obviously the only two in the café right now, then leans in. “I think,” he whispers, “if I can make it into Chief Taneda’s office, I can release information that will truly prove the Agency’s innocence.”

…Okay. Lucy’s interest is fully piqued now.

“If he has that information, why hasn’t he already cleared your names?” she challenges. “Didn’t Ranpo-san meet with him? And didn’t you talk with what’s-his-face—your spy with the big glasses and even bigger eyebags?”

Dazai huffs. “Ango isn’t my spy; he’s a fucking traitor.” He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. Chief Taneda can only do so much, and to prove the Agency’s innocence would require also proving the Hunting Dogs’ guilt. Officially, Fukuchi Ouchi died a hero on the battlefield, and they’ve determined that needs to remain true no matter who must take the fall in his stead. Which, as you saw, was the Armed Detective Agency.”

“I see…” Lucy muses. To reveal Fukuchi as a member of the Decay of Angels would rock the world to its very core. She hated to see him celebrated in the aftermath of the airport battle, but ultimately, she understood why that was the case. What Dazai is proposing would sew seeds of doubt and distrust through every nation that had been so ready to agree to Fukuchi’s united army. It would paint Japan in a very bad light. It could cause far more problems than it’s worth.

But. It could restore the Armed Detective Agency, too. Which is more important to Lucy than any of that other stuff.

“So say I agree,” she starts. “What am I supposed to do in order to get this invitation? Do I have to take a temporary position at the Guild again?”

Dazai tilts his head. “Eh? No, Poe-san said you’re still on the official employee registry.”

Lucy blanches. “I am?!”

“Yep! So all you need to do is say you’ll do it. I’ll get the invitation sorted out with Poe-san, and then the two of us will be all set to crash a gala together.”

Really, Lucy should say no. If she’s still technically employed with the Guild, then Poe must be too. Dazai could ask him—or, better yet, Poe could just take Ranpo as an excuse to finally fucking ask them out! There is literally no reason Lucy needs to agree to this crazy plan that Dazai probably cooked up at two in the morning while nursing a bottle of whiskey. She can stay nice and safe and unassociated with criminals here, in the café, doing the job she actually gets paid for, instead of waltzing around pretending to be someone she’s not with a literal former crime lord.

But, like…

It sounds kind of fun.

With the Agency disbanded, things have been boring at the café lately. She’d never admit it aloud, but she misses their chaos and shenanigans—and she misses being able to help them with cases, too. It’s true Dazai could find help elsewhere, but he’d be a bit more hard-pressed to find someone who is willing to risk the peace of the world for a chance to bring the Agency back. The rest of the detectives are too noble for that.

Lucy, however, is much more like Dazai in that regard. If she has to dirty her hands in order to get what she wants, well…

What’s a little more blood when her soul is already stained?

“Okay,” she agrees. “Sure. Let’s fuck shit up together, why not?”

Dazai grins. “I knew I could count on you!” He rests his chin in his hands, fluttering his eyelashes at her. “My knight in shining armor.”

Lucy leans over the counter, matching his expression. “That makes you the princess, then.” She hums. “I could get behind that.”

Dazai’s smile falters, for just a split-second, so quick Lucy almost thinks she imagined it. “Our perfect fairytale,” he agrees.

(Lucy supposes they can only hope it will end in happily ever after rather than everyone died, the end.)

Two days later, Poe enters the café with his shoulders hunched, eyes darting around nervously like he thinks someone is going to jump out and kill him. He hands Lucy a thick white envelope, addressed to her by name.

“For the gala,” he explains. “I…was surprised to hear you’re wanting to attend.”

Lucy flips the envelope over. It has a wax seal and everything. She feels severely out-of-place all of a sudden, even though she’s literally at her shitty minimum wage job. “Just thought it might be entertaining,” she lies. “I haven’t seen Mark get drunk in ages. It’s always a riot when he starts—” flirting with Nathaniel, she was going to say, except Nathaniel won’t be going because Nathaniel is in Anne’s Room and even if he weren’t, Fyodor irrevocably fucked up his brain to the point where he may as well be dead. “—going off the rails,” she finishes lamely.

Poe hums. He lingers, for a moment, and Lucy thinks he’s going to say something more—maybe reveal he knows the real reason she decided to go and warn her against it. But he just ends up telling her, “Goodbye, then,” before hurrying away.

She shakes her head. Weirdo. But, whatever. She doesn’t need approval from her friends anyway; she and Dazai both know they won’t be getting that. They’ve already decided to do this in spite of every reason not to, because the chance of victory weighs more than every risk combined.

Apparently, Dazai’s definition of being ‘in hiding’ is crashing at his ex’s place.

Lucy takes the subway across the city, into the ritzy part of town with all the fancy buildings she’s never had reason to look twice at because everything here is so far out of her price range it makes her head spin. She finds the address Dazai gave her, and hesitantly steps into the lobby of a luxurious apartment building that literally has security guards by the desk. What the actual fuck.

“I’m…visiting a friend,” she says vaguely, not entirely sure she’s allowed to name drop Nakahara Chuuya without being killed. She sort of scoots over to the elevator, hoping she doesn’t look as suspicious as she feels. Maybe she should’ve worn a nicer outfit? She did get a new dress last time she went shopping with Kyouka…

The elevator doors slide open, and Lucy hurries inside.

She puts in the code Dazai gave her that takes her up to the penthouse suit where Chuuya lives, and nothing explodes in her face, so she figures she didn’t accidentally type in a nuclear launch code or something. It’s a rather long ride, but then again, this building has a lot of floors. So. It’s only to be expected.

When she finally makes it up, Dazai is there to greet her. He’s clad in a worn t-shirt and pajama pants with a hole in one knee, and still wrapped head-to-toe in bandages as far as Lucy can tell. He also does not have his cane in hand, which she mentally raises an eyebrow at, and then has her skepticism validated when he starts limping as he guides her inside.

“You can put your shoes wherever,” he says, waving a hand vaguely. “Or leave them on. I don’t care. I think it’s funny to make a mess of Chuuya’s things, honestly, so if you track mud everywhere, that’s less work for me!”

Lucy does not feel like facing the wrath of a Port Mafia executive, so she slips her shoes off, leaving them by the door.

“Sooo…” Lucy says, craning her neck to take in the opulence as she follows Dazai towards the living room area which is big enough to hold an entire apartment itself, “are you, like, dating Chuuya-san then?”

He makes a face. “Ew.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question.”

Dazai throws himself onto a couch. “I’d never date Chuuya; that’s gross.”

“For some reason, I don’t believe you,” Lucy grumbles under her breath. She drops herself into the chair beside the couch which Dazai is occupying all of with his freakishly long limbs. “So how’d you convince them to let you stay here? Or is this, like, a sugar daddy situation?”

“Wowwww Lucy-chan, I’m flattered you think I look like a sugar baby~”

“There is something seriously wrong with you,” she interrupts. With a huff, she shakes her head. “Never mind. What’s the plan for the gala? You can’t walk in there looking like that, obviously; your face is too well-known thanks to all those wanted posters of the Agency that went up. And do you even have something nice to wear?”

“I have plenty of nice things!”

Lucy narrows her eyes.

“What about you?” he challenges. “I doubt you’ve got a passable outfit, considering you’re living off paychecks from a coffee shop.”

“You are literally unemployed.”

“It’s not my fault no one will hire me!”

“Whatever.” Lucy swings her legs over the side of the chair, leaning back so she can gaze up at the ceiling. “You’ll need something with sleeves, to make the bandages less obvious, assuming you’re determined to keep them on. A high neck would be helpful too. In terms of disguise, it would be way easier if this was, like, a masquerade party or something. But I could at least do your makeup; that might—”

An idea hits Lucy with the force of a freight train.

She sits up straight, clapping her hands together. “I’ve got it!”

“Eh?” Dazai asks, barely lifting his head enough to look at her. He looks the opposite of the part right now, but Lucy is confident in her abilities, and she can’t lie—she’s a little excited about what that means her role will be. So long as they can pull this off, it really will be the perfect disguise.

She beams. “You’re the princess,” she tells him. “No one will expect the infamous Demon Prodigy of the Port Mafia to show up wearing a dress!”

Dazai startles at that. “W-woah, hold on—”

“Do you want to get found out before you even step foot in the venue, or do you want to save the Agency?” Lucy interrupts. She stands up, marching over to him with her hands on her hips. Dazai shrinks away, but there’s nowhere for him to run. “I think you’ll make a wonderful princess, with the proper attire.”

“Can I not be a princess dressed like this?” he asks weakly.

“Not for a gala, no.” She hauls Dazai to his feet, then snatches up his cane and shoves it into his hands. “C’mon, grab Chuuya-san’s card or whatever you were going to use to buy my clothes, and we’ll find outfits for both of us. You can go back to being a princess in your pajamas after this is all over.”

Dazai hums. “Don’t be silly, Lucy-chan. I’m not really a princess. Just like you and I aren’t actually partners. It’s all just make-believe!”

“Right,” Lucy agrees, heading back towards the door, “but if you wanted to be a princess, I don’t see any problem with that.” She glances over her shoulder. “I’ll even keep being a prince to match.”

Dazai smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

Dazai wants to die.

Which, admittedly, is just a normal Tuesday for him, but there are some exciting new reasons he wants to die today! Number one being Lucy just in general and number two being her insistence that he can play the part of a princess and number three being Lucy again, just as like a concept. He doesn’t really even like her that much; he was just completely out of other ways to get an invitation to the gala because Ango is refusing to help him and Ranpo banned him from asking Poe and he doesn’t really know anyone else in the Guild. He was out of options, and he knew he could talk Lucy into it, but maybe he should’ve actually just gone behind Ranpo’s back and bribed Poe instead.

“The way I see it,” Lucy says, “we have two options in terms of getting outfits.” They’re walking through the crowded streets, and Lucy has one arm linked with his to make sure he doesn’t fall behind due to his leg injury that still hasn’t healed and apparently just won’t. Whatever. She tried to convince him to call a cab and he vehemently denied that, and now he’s suffering the consequences but once again: Whatever. “We can either go to some hoity-toity formal wear shop with mafia ties, or we can go thrifting and hope for the best.”

Dazai groans. “Why can’t we just pick a normal store?”

“Because you are wanted for the hundreds of crimes you committed between ages fourteen and eighteen,” Lucy replies, without missing a beat. “If we go somewhere the Port Mafia is in control of, they won’t be dumb enough to turn you in. And if we go to a thrift store, the employees just won’t care. Anywhere else, and you’re getting the cops called on you. So,” she looks over at him, smiling, “take your pick!”

Dazai sincerely does not like this at all. It’s bad enough that Lucy’s grand plan to disguise him involves putting him in a dress; he really doesn’t need word of this spreading through the mafia. Because then, he’ll have to answer to Chuuya, and Elise will track him down just to laugh at him, and even Akutagawa will side-eye him, and Mori will read into it and if the entire mafia knows, then somehow Ranpo is bound to figure it out too—they’re probably in cahoots with Chuuya right this very moment, actually—and Dazai sincerely does not want to deal with any of that, thank you very much. He is perfectly fine living his life as-is.

Not that. Wearing a dress would change anything. Just.

Well—

Never mind.

“We’re never gonna find something to fit me,” Dazai whines, leaning into Lucy both to bother her and also because his leg is actually really starting to bother him. They should’ve taken a taxi.

“I’ll alter it for you, idiot,” she shoots back. “Or you can pay someone else to do it. I doubt Chuuya-san will miss the money.”

“But that’ll take so looong—” Dazai pauses. “Wait.” He looks around. He hadn’t been paying attention to where they were going, since Lucy was leading the way, but suddenly things are looking a bit too familiar— “What are we—?”

“You’re not the only one who talks to mafia members, you know,” Lucy says smugly. She yanks him into a store before he can slip away and run. “I had the tiger kitty ask his boyfriend for a list of places to go, in the event that you decided to be difficult. Obviously a good idea on my part.”

Dazai wilts.

“I’m going to kill myself,” he says reflexively.

“Can you wait until after the gala, at least?”

“I have an even better idea!” Dazai declares, slipping his arm from Lucy’s grasp and turning to face her. He takes one of her hands in his, lifting it towards his face. “Will you join me in a double suicide?”

Expectedly, Lucy laughs in his face.

She pulls away from him, striding further into the store. “You know, I’m a little flattered,” she admits. “I’m the only waitress you hadn’t propositioned before today. I thought maybe I wasn’t beautiful enough for you.”

She says it like a joke, but Dazai can very clearly make out a serious undertone. He falters at that, for some reason, even though it literally doesn’t matter. Lucy shouldn’t care what he thinks of her, and he shouldn’t care about inadvertently hurting Lucy’s feelings. He never tried asking her because there was no reason to—because she wouldn’t entertain him for as long as it took him to pop the question.

Plus, she very obviously had a thing for Atsushi when she first took a job at the café, and Dazai decided he was better off not involving himself with that.

He lets out a melodramatic sigh. “Lucy-chan wouldn’t even give me the time of day if I asked; how could I have held her attention long enough to request a lovers’ suicide with her?”

Lucy freezes, for a split-second. Then, she lets out a shaky laugh. “Well, maybe you should’ve found a better lead-in.” She turns, holding out a hand. “And anyway, I have a different proposition.”

Dazai raises an eyebrow, placing his hand in Lucy’s. “Oh?”

Lucy yanks him closer, and he stumbles as she grins up at him. “Killing ourselves means our enemies win. Let’s keep living out of spite instead.”

How terrible, Dazai thinks, but the words die in his throat when he sees the gleam in Lucy’s eyes. While he isn’t unfamiliar with the concept of attraction, there’s a vast difference between appreciating the way someone looks, and feeling some sort of deeper tug towards them. Lucy is pretty, of course, in the way all women are pretty, but right now, she has a fire blazing beneath it that makes her appear so, very, alive. She’s real, and she’s human, and she’s right in front of him, touching him without fear.

Briefly, Dazai’s internal monologue veers off-course down the path of, What the fuck, do I have a thing for redheads?

“Okay,” he hears himself agree, hardly even remembering what it was Lucy said. He might do anything to keep her looking at him like that. Like she believes he’s real and human and alive just as much as she is.

“Good answer.”

With their hands still entwined, Lucy drags him towards one of the employees. It’s not someone Dazai recognizes, but then again, he rarely interacted with their front business while he was with the mafia and it’s been four years since then. He’s not sure he’s even ever been in this specific store—he wasn’t exactly interested in playing dress-up, and if he needed something for an undercover mission, Mori would just have someone come to the mafia headquarters and take measurements, then send the new clothing over a week later.

Oh, well. At least Lucy won’t have any more experience with this than he does.

Probably.

“We’ve got a bit of a strange request,” Lucy tells the employee, who is eyeing them both warily. Dazai smiles, because he thinks it might scare them even more. “We need some formal clothing for an upcoming event, but, like…do you have a floor-length dress with long sleeves? Maybe a higher neckline too? And also not too form-fitting. …And that would fit someone who’s a hundred eighty centimeters, give or take?” She nods, apparently satisfied with the requirements she’s listed. “Plus, I’m looking for a suit for myself.”

The employee opens their mouth, and then snaps it shut. “I…”

“We can tip you double the cost of the clothes,” Dazai offers.

Lucy nudges him, leaning in to whisper, “Can we actually do that?”

“We have Chuuya’s card; we can do whatever we want.”

“I will find stylists to assist you,” the employee determines, before hurrying away.

As soon as they’re out of earshot, Lucy asks, “Are we about to die?”

“Worse.” Dazai slumps against her. “Mori-san is going to know we’re here.” He buries his face in Lucy’s shoulder. “I’ve changed my mind, can you just kill me now? I’ll never live it down if Elise-chan finds out about this. She’ll be so mad. She’ll start harassing me on Twitter again.”

“Um,” Lucy says.

She doesn’t have a chance to say any more than that, because the employee returns from the back room, now followed by—

“Shit,” Dazai says. He takes Lucy’s arm. “I lied, this is the worst-case scenario, we have to go right now—”

“Dazai,” Gin signs, cold eyes boring into him. They’re dressed femininely today—in a long, flowy, white skirt, with their hair down and bangs clipped back by a pearly barrette. “I don’t think you can outrun me right now.” They shoot a pointed look towards his cane.

Lucy leans over and mutters, “Do you know her?”

“…Yes.”

“Can you get me her number? She’s gorgeous.”

Wow! This worst-case scenario just keeps getting even more bad! As if Dazai didn’t want to die enough already, now the universe is just really rubbing it in his face!!!

“No.”

Lucy pouts.

Gin huffs out a sigh. “What are you doing here?”

Dazai smiles blankly at them. “You know I never learned any of that silly signing stuff, Gin-chan—”

“Cut the bullshit.”

Lucy snaps her fingers, apparently having had a revelation upon hearing Gin’s name. “Wait, the tiger-kitty has talked about you before!” she exclaims. She leaves Dazai’s side, skipping over to Gin and throwing an arm over their shoulders. Dazai does not seethe with jealousy at the sight because that would be stupid and ridiculous and he really doesn’t care about either Lucy or Gin enough for that. Gin is an asshole, and Lucy is a means to an end. “So, listen, we’re just trying to do a little undercover research that might help get the Agency back on its feet. We need disguises, and since Dazai is a bit limited on places where he can appear in public right now, I had Atsushi-kun send me some mafia-affiliated stores we might be able to buy a dress and suit from. And, I mean, the Port Mafia and Agency were allies before the Agency’s disbandment, right? So think about it—if the Agency can get back together, that would actually benefit you guys!”

Gin doesn’t look convinced. Or maybe that’s just their resting bitch face that only seems to happen whenever they know Dazai is in the vicinity.

“Please?” Lucy tries.

“I have to tell the Boss you were here,” Gin informs Dazai.

“But consider,” Dazai counters, “what if you didn’t?”

Gin narrows their eyes.

“Okay,” Dazai relents, “but can you not mention the specifics?”

“Of what you’re doing?”

“Of what we buy.”

Gin hesitates. “That depends. Your friend already said you’re here to buy a suit and a dress.”

“Right,” Dazai agrees. “So you can just say that. And nothing more.” He slaps a plastic smile across his face. “Sound good? I mean, there’s really no reason to delve into details beyond that at all, is there? Just tell dear old Mori-san exactly what Lucy-chan told you and feign ignorance about everything else. I’m sure you can manage that much!”

Gin rolls their eyes. “I don’t know why you’re acting so weird about this. I don’t think the Boss will care about you needing a new suit. We all know you’re not actually going to come back.”

Dazai opens his mouth, and then shuts it again. He glances at Lucy, hoping for some assistance, but she looks terribly lost. Probably on account of her not knowing JSL. If only Dazai hadn’t spent weeks obsessively learning every sign when he was sixteen just so he could know what Gin was saying about him all while pretending to be clueless.

“Yes,” he says, haltingly. There should be something else for him to add after that, but he can’t find the right words, because he really doesn’t want to say any of this out loud. He doesn’t even want to think it, actually. He wants to die. He wants to die. He can’t keep living like this; death is literally the only feasible option here. No need to run from your inner thoughts if you’re dead! Because then, there’s no thinking at all! Where’s the nearest river at—?

Gin steps away from Lucy, so they can whisper something in the employee’s ear. The employee whispers something back, and Dazai can’t actually make out the exact words or even lip-read, considering they both cover their mouths while speaking, but he can pinpoint the exact moment Gin learns what he’d sincerely been hoping no one in the mafia would find out about. Just because it would be annoying, and he doesn’t want to deal with it, and not because. Of anything else.

Dazai is just being overdramatic and whiny for the love of the game, really.

Gin looks him over, like they’re seeing him in a new light. They take a step back and sign, “I will inform the Boss only of the necessary information. Anything beyond that is yours to share whenever you’re ready.”

Then, they bow, and make their retreat.

A tense silence falls over the room.

“So…” Lucy says, after a moment, “are we getting kicked out?”

The employee clears their throat. “No. Follow me; I’ll take your measurements and we’ll see what we can find for the two of you.”

Dazai does as he’s told, feeling numb and detached from himself. Is it possible Gin saw through him, straight to the truth he won’t even touch himself? Or were they just trying to unnerve him as revenge for bothering them? Does it matter? Who cares what Gin thinks; no one would ever believe them even if they did try to say something. Right?

Well.

Lucy might.

But that doesn’t count, because Lucy doesn’t really know him at all. What about Atsushi? Or Kunikida? Or Ranpo—

Okay, actually, Dazai is just not going to think about this at all. He’s going to play the ‘pretend you’re fourteen years old and in a permanent state of disassociation’ game. And none of this will matter, because he won’t even be present in his own body for it.

His plan works for exactly as long as it takes for their measurements to be done, and one of the other employees to bring out a dress. She sends Dazai into the dressing room with an armful of silky blue fabric, and he goes through the motions of putting it on, and then he catches a glimpse of his reflection on the way out and—

Oh.

That’s…

He swallows thickly, unable to tear his gaze away from the mirror. It’s akin to touching an open flame, or firing a bullet into your own flesh. He hates it, hates that he can’t stop looking, hates that he looks so—

…nice?

Is this what he was missing out on all those time he refused to let Elise dress him up?

The sleeves actually do reach all the way down to his wrists, and the skirt swishes around his legs whenever he moves. The neckline is low and hangs loose, which is a bit disappointing, but that’s probably something that could be fixed, and with his bandages still on, it’s not like his chest is on display to the world. To be honest, it’s quite comfortable. None of the suits Mori shoved him into ever felt like this. They were always made of stiff, itchy, fabric, with so little breathing room they were downright suffocating. Dazai spent most of his time counting down the minutes until he could change back into something familiar. Which was still a suit, but one that he’d worn enough to have broken in, and which he could pair with a large coat over his shoulders to hide the outline of his figure.

This dress doesn’t feel like that at all, though.

He’s almost disappointed he’ll have to take it off so soon.

“Dazai?” Lucy calls. “Did you strangle yourself in there? I’d really rather you not die on my watch; I don’t w—”

Dazai pushes the door open, stepping out before he can second-guess everything and actually just kill himself. Lucy’s voice cuts off mid-sentence, and her eyes widen at the sight of him. It probably looks stupid; obviously Dazai Osamu is not the sort of person meant to wear a dress. And certainly not one as elegant as this. He was meant for stifling suits with fabric dark enough to hide the bloodstains. He could never really be a princess.

Lucy lets out a low whistle. “You don’t actually look half bad.”

“…I don’t?”

“Not at all!” Lucy steps closer to him and starts tugging at the dress, adjusting how it’s sitting on him. “I was afraid the neckline might be an issue with the bandages, but I guess we could layer something under the dress… I’m not sure this style would work best for that, though…” She peeks around from behind him, looking at the stylist. “What do you think? Maybe something with sheer sleeves, and then a white shirt with a high neck beneath it? Or, hm, if I had more of this same fabric, I could just make the neckline higher myself, I think.”

The stylist nods. “Let me find a few more options. We may have a dress like this with a wider fit as well. If you’re confident in your skills, that might give you enough extra fabric to work with.”

Lucy gasps. “Yes! That sounds great!”

As the stylist disappears to find whatever else she wants to put Dazai in, he looks down at himself, eyebrows pinched together. “I’m not sure I like it,” he says, just to taste the words. Just because that’s what he should be saying in this situation, right? He’s not really allowed to like this. He’s merely playing the part he needs to—nothing more, nothing less.

“Really?” Lucy questions. She throws herself back into the chair where she’d been waiting for him while he changed. “Could’ve fooled me. You looked pretty happy when you first came out of that fitting room.”

Dazai falters. “I did?”

“Mhm.” She leans forward, resting her chin on her hands and letting out a dreamy sigh. “Makes me excited to get fitted for a suit. We’re totally gonna eat up everyone else at this gala!”

Dazai hums. He directs his gaze towards one of the many full-length mirrors he’d been pointedly avoiding. He twists his waist, and the dress swishes with the movement. He can hardly believe the reflection looking back is really him.

“If you say so,” he relents. It sounds just a bit more eager than he means for it to.

“I do,” Lucy confirms. “We’ll be the best-dressed prince and princess in the kingdom.”

After they decide on a dress for Dazai, it’s Lucy’s turn to try things on. There aren’t quite as many options when it comes to suits, so the process is much more straightforward for her. They decide to keep things simple, with a black jacket and pants, and a white undershirt paired with a blue tie that matches Dazai’s dress.

Once she’s dressed, she takes a second to admire herself in the mirror, smoothing her hands over the jacket. It’s a bit big on her, which is only to be expected, but she’s fully confident in her ability to alter it. And even as-is, she looks hot as fuck, if she can brag for a second. She quite likes wearing flouncy dresses and skirts, but maybe she should try for pantsuits on occasion too, because damn.

She looks good!

She strides out of the fitting room, feeling rather confident in her current attire. She comes to a stop in front of where Dazai is seated, then does a twirl. “Well? What do you think?”

“You’re the handsomest prince in all the land,” he replies, though it sounds like he’s just reading off a script, plucking out the words he thinks might make Lucy blush. She’s not going to fall for it, but it does feel good to be complimented regardless of the circumstances.

She giggles. “I really like it,” she admits. She kicks a leg up, looking at the way the dark fabric hangs over her. “You’d better be careful, or some other girl might steal me away from you.”

Dazai doesn’t respond right away, but by the time she glances up at him, he’s fixed his expression into something completely neutral. Weird. It’s not like there’s any real depth to their relationship—they just share a couple mutual friends, and used to work in the same building.

“Maybe that hot mafioso we just talked to will be there,” Lucy continues, mostly just to get a reaction. “Gin-san, was it?”

Dazai winces. “Please don’t say that.”

“Boo, you’re no fun,” Lucy replies, through a smile. Dazai narrows his eyes, but she can tell he isn’t actually totally mad—he might think he can strike fear into the hearts of everyone around him, but he’s not the Demon Prodigy anymore no matter what the official police reports might say. Lucy knows Dazai Osamu of the Detective Agency, and she knows she could push a lot further before she truly incites his wrath.

“Is it so bad that I want Lucy-chan all to myself?” Dazai asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

Lucy’s heart flutters, despite herself.

She sniffs, trying very hard not to grin like a schoolgirl with a crush. “I suppose I can’t complain about that.”

Dazai smiles back.

Lucy is sure she’s just imagining things when it looks almost-genuine.

Much to Dazai’s dismay, the day of the gala approaches too fast for him to mentally prepare for it. By which he actually means, he just kept procrastinating because he didn’t want to think about it, because as soon as he started to think about it, his thoughts threatened to spiral completely out of control and he had to just stop thinking altogether.

“You’ve been acting weird lately,” Chuuya tells him, while he’s in the middle of building a castle out of cards on their kitchen table. He’s actually already used one full deck and is now expanding his creation with a second. He keeps his gaze fixed on what he’s doing, but out of the corner of his eye, he watches Chuuya grab a glass and pour themself a cup of wine.

“Have I?” he responds, feigning innocence.

“You’re planning something,” Chuuya continues. They take a sip of their drink. “Fishy bastard.”

Dazai hums, smiling pleasantly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“I don’t think you’re going to get the Agency back by committing even more crimes,” Chuuya says. “Sometimes, two negatives do not make a positive.”

“I’m literally not doing anything illegal.” Dazai places another card, then leans back in his seat, folding his hands together. “Can I taste?”

“You don’t even like wine, fucker.”

“So?”

Chuuya picks up the cork from the bottle and throws it at him. Dazai dodges easily, and it goes sailing past him, bouncing on the ground before rolling to a stop. “I’m not sure why you’re being so evasive and secretive, is all,” Chuuya adds, like a confession of sorts. “I’d love for the Agency to get back together, ‘cause then I can finally get you out of my hair. Also, I know you didn’t actually use my card to pay Kunikida’s rent the other day. I can literally see the charge came from a formal wear store—one managed by the mafia, no less.”

Dazai deflates. He really thought he got away with that one—or, more accurately, that Chuuya just wouldn’t care enough to look at where the money went. “So? Maybe I wanted a new suit?”

“You don’t ever leave the house,” Chuuya points out.

“Because I don’t have anything to wear!”

Chuuya breathes out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of their nose. They down half of the wine left in their glass in one go, then say, “I don’t give a shit what you do, but don’t kill yourself. It’ll be a hassle for me, and the Agency probably needs you in order to get back on its feet.” They stride past Dazai, waving with their free hand as they go. “I’m getting in the bath. Don’t bother me, or you’re sleeping on the balcony tonight.”

“You sure you don’t want any company~” Dazai wiggles his eyebrows.

Chuuya flips him off without looking back. Rude.

Once they’re gone, Dazai slumps in his seat, eyeing his tower of cards. He has approximately two hours before Lucy shows up. Chuuya will be asleep by that point, since they need to wake up again at midnight for some mafia whatever-the-fuck, so there’s no worry about them figuring out Dazai’s plan. As long as he and Lucy aren’t, like, screaming, Chuuya will most certainly sleep through their entire getting-ready montage.

Small mercies.

Dazai goes to pick up another card, only to realize his hand is shaking. Fuck. This isn’t good. This is really, really, bad, actually. He should probably just call the whole thing off and sneak into the building some other time—

But Lucy was so excited when she tried on that suit.

And the Agency is counting on him. Not that they know it, except for Ranpo, who has most definitely figured out Dazai’s plan and decided to turn a blind eye it because that’s the best they can offer him since, morally, they should put a stop to it. If they know what’s going on. Still, this is objectively their best shot at fully without-a-doubt proving the Agency’s innocence, and if Dazai doesn’t take it, he’ll never forgive himself.

He can’t let the Agency down, and he can’t let Lucy down, either. Even if it means he…

He forces his hand to still, and places another card. He’s gone twenty-two years without thinking about it; surely he can last one more night.

Lucy shows up right on time, appearing significantly less wary than the first time Dazai had her come to Chuuya’s apartment. They waste no time in heading straight for the guest bathroom. Lucy brings their clothes out of Anne’s Room where she had them stashed, along with an assortment of accessories and makeup. Dazai eyes the spread like it might bite him. Really, how can he be sure it won’t?

“I figured I’ll do my own makeup first, and then we can focus on dressing you up,” Lucy declares. “Yours will take longer, since we’re actually trying to disguise you. I can just put on some eyeliner and go. Although…” she taps her chin, “I was thinking I might contour my face to give it a slightly more masculine shape. That shouldn’t be too hard, you think?”

“I have no idea!” Dazai replies brightly, trying very very hard not to think about the implications of what that means Lucy is planning for his makeup.

Lucy clicks her tongue in dismay. “Of course you wouldn’t. Alright, out you go!” She shoves him through the door, into the main part of the guest bedroom. “Put your dress on while I’m getting ready in here.” The door shuts behind her, and the lock clicks, leaving Dazai alone.

Alright, then. That’s fine.

He peers at his dress, laid out on the bed, from the corner of his eye. He doesn’t want to face it head-on. Maybe he should shut the lights off while he changes? Does he really need to change right away? Surely it’ll be at least a half hour before Lucy is done with her makeup and everything.

But, like, what if it’s not? Maybe it really is imperative Dazai put the dress on right now. In fact, that would help him get used to the feeling of it! Since he’s never worn a dress before, he doesn’t have experience engaging in combat while wearing one. He should probably put it on, just so he can get used to the weight of it and the extra fabric.

Well, with his leg injury, he should probably do his best to avoid combat altogether. Just in case, though…

He strips out of his clothes before he can think twice, and then steps into the dress. The dress they ended up choosing was floor-length, satin-y blue, and sleeveless with a high neck. Lucy sheered several centimeters off of the bottom, re-hemmed it, then used the extra fabric to add sleeves and make herself a tie as well. She found a pair of black tights for Dazai to wear with it, since the dress is no longer long enough to completely cover his legs, and he thought he would hate them, but they’re…not so bad, actually. They’re thick enough to obscure the fact that he’s wearing bandages beneath, and he thinks he actually prefers having the extra layer.

With the addition of sleeves, and the other slight alterations Lucy did in order to make it fit better, the dress quite literally feels like it was made for him.

Instead of walking around or anything, Dazai just sort of flops back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling with his hands folded together and resting on his stomach. Now that he actually has the dress on, it’s like— Well, it’s just a dress, isn’t it? It doesn’t have to mean anything. It only means as much as Dazai wants it to. The problem only arises when he subjects himself to the gazes of others, because what if they can see what Dazai wants it to mean?

Not that he wants it to mean anything.

But.

Maybe he does.

He lets out a sigh, turning his head so the bathroom door is in view. He can vaguely hear the sounds of Lucy getting ready just beyond it. If he gets up to bother her, he can stop thinking about this. She locked the door, but this is Chuuya’s apartment—Dazai could pick all of the locks with his eyes closed and both hands tied behind his back. That would require getting up, though, and he needs to save all the exertion his leg can handle for the actual gala, so he’s basically stuck here. On the bed. In a dress. With only his thoughts to keep him company.

Fuck!!!!

It’s not even a big deal, it’s just largely ridiculous. He could never say it out loud because who would even take him seriously? Dazai Osamu, a girl?

As if.

Femininity is for other people—for Yosano, and Kyouka, and Lucy. Hell, even Ranpo or Kunikida could pull it off if they felt so inclined. But Dazai? Seriously? He’d make a mockery of it.

At his core, he knows, he just wasn’t meant to be the princess in any fairytale.

The bathroom door swings open, and Lucy peeks out. “Oh, good!” she exclaims, “You’re still alive!”

“Much to my dismay,” Dazai replies. He squints at her. “Did you literally change the shape of your jaw?”

Lucy rolls her eyes. “I told you, it’s contour.” She strides over to him, takes hold of his arms, and yanks him to his feet. “Come on, it’s your turn now. Can I put glittery pink eyeshadow on you?”

“I don’t think that would match my outfit,” Dazai argues, as he allows himself to be led into the bathroom. Lucy sits him on the closed lid of the toilet, then reaches for a makeup brush. Dazai should have killed himself instead of putting this dress on. He should’ve let Nikolai’s poison kill him after Meursault instead of taking the antidote. He should have drowned himself in the river instead of joining the Armed Detective Agency.

“Blue glitter, then,” Lucy decides.

“Or we could do no glitter?” Dazai suggests.

“But that’s no fun!”

“Maybe no makeup at all, even.”

Lucy purses her lips. She looks him over. It’s kind of unnerving, that her face looks different. It’s obviously still her, just with slightly sharper edges, but if she can change herself like that, then—

Well—

Theoretically, Dazai could—

“Is it the makeup you don’t want,” Lucy asks carefully, “or is it something else?”

Dazai doesn’t answer. What can he even say to that?

Lucy sighs. She sets her brush down, then cups Dazai’s face in both hands, forcing him to look at her. He hates it. He wants to run away, he wants to die. He needs to die.

“For now, why don’t I play the part of your fairy godmother?” she offers. “You get one night to see what it’s like to be a princess, and then at midnight, it’ll all disappear. You’ll go back to being who you were before. And then you can decide if the glass slipper still fits you or not. How’s that sound?”

Dazai swallows thickly.

“If it’s any consolation…” Lucy looks away, “I don’t think I’d really mind being a prince, just in general. I kinda vibe with it. Not enough to change everything, but…enough for it to mean something.”

“O-oh,” Dazai hears himself say. “Okay, then.”

Surely it can’t hurt if it’s just for one night.

Lucy smiles. “Okay,” she agrees. She steps back, and then sets to work doing her makeup magic. Dazai pretty much tries not to think about it—or anything else, for that matter—the entire time. Lucy is diligent, careful but efficient, and before Dazai knows it, she’s announcing that she’s finished.

“I can fix anything if you really hate it,” she says as she passes a mirror over. Dazai peers at the reflection within, heart pounding and breathing uneven.

The person who looks back is…

“What d’you think?” Lucy asks.

The Dazai in the mirror still looks like Dazai, but also like a kinder reflection. Like Lucy has erased the rot and replaced it with something beautiful. Like somehow, despite all the odds, there are flowers growing over the grave of the Demon Prodigy.

Just for one night, right?

Dazai can handle that much.

After Dazai’s makeup is finished, Lucy decorates him with a few hair clips and a necklace, and then adds another matching barrette to her own hair. They really do look good, and Lucy figures anyone who doesn’t know Dazai won’t immediately recognize him on sight, which is the best they can hope for right now. As long as they stick together and Lucy does most of the talking, they should be able to get in and out unnoticed. Mostly.

Hopefully.

They take a taxi to the venue, both because it’s too far for Dazai to walk and because the idea of trying in these outfits is a bit absurd to Lucy. She feels like they should be rocking up in a limo or something. Isn’t that what rich people do?

She wouldn’t know.

When they arrive, Lucy shows her invitation to security—personally printed for Lucy Maud Montgomery, plus one. He hardly looks at them before ushering them inside, and Lucy breathes a sigh of relief as soon as they’re through. Step one done.

Now they just have to get through…the entire rest of the night. And really, what’s the worst that could possibly happen? Lucy is only bringing a wanted criminal into a high-security government building with the specific intent to break into someplace they aren’t supposed to go so they can release information to the public that could shake the very foundation of the world as it is. No biggie.

“How are you feeling?” Lucy asks under her breath, as they navigate through the crowd. Dazai has one arm linked with hers while the other holds his cane, but there’s not exactly a lot of space for him to use it while they make their way into the main banquet hall.

Dazai merely hums in response.

“Great, thanks, that really answers my question.” Lucy huffs. She shakes her head. “Whatever. Are we going to have to avoid any of your detective friends or mafia enemies while we’re here?”

“Not sure,” Dazai replies, tone casual like that information isn’t pretty important to know. “I don’t think Ranpo-san will pose a threat, if that’s who you’re worried about. My biggest worry is actually Ango…” his voice trails off as they step into the ballroom. Lucy pauses herself, breath catching in her throat. It’s not necessarily fancier than some of the rooms on the Zelda, or any bigger than what was at the Guild headquarters back in New York, but she still finds herself taken aback at the sight of places like this, where she’s welcomed in instead of tossed away with a sneer and You’ll never belong here.

Dazai nudges her playfully. “I don’t think it’s the prince’s job to gape.”

“Oh, and you’d know so much about how a prince acts, I’m sure,” Lucy retorts. She continues walking, and Dazai follows her lead, actually using his cane now that there’s more space between them and the other guests.

“I would! I’m a little out of my depth in my role here, Lucy-chan.”

Lucy frowns. “You know,” she says, “this isn’t even the first time you’ve been the princess.”

Dazai meets her words with that empty smile of his, like he’s pretending he has no idea what she’s talking about even though he definitely does. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Lucy-chan.”

“The whole Dead Apple thing was totally Snow White,” Lucy argues. “And Meursault was Rapunzel. You’re just collecting fairytales like Infinity Stones at this point. Maybe we can turn you into a frog next!”

“I’m not,” Dazai starts, and then stops. When she glances over at him, she finds him looking up towards the ceiling. “Your friends found you.”

“Wh—?”

“Lucy!” Mark exclaims, throwing an arm over her shoulders and forcing her to let go of Dazai as he drags her in closer. “I didn’t think you’d show up. Have you tried the champagne yet? It’s so fuckin’ good actually, you should totally have some.”

Lucy pushes him back. “And how many glasses have you had already?”

“I don’t think that’s important. Heyyy, who’s the pretty lady?”

“The—” Lucy follows Mark’s gaze over to Dazai, who currently resembles a deer caught in headlights. Does Mark seriously not recognize him? Well, okay, it’s possible he’s never actually met Dazai face-to-face. “That’s—” Lucy falters. How did they think about everything except for a fake name?! “—my girlfriend. So I’d appreciate it if you backed off.”

Lucy wraps an arm around Dazai’s waist, then leans her head against his shoulder just to emphasize her lie. Dazai plays into it, like she figured he would, hugging her back with his free arm and resting his head atop hers.

Mark lets out a low whistle. “Damn. Lucky you.”

“I am, aren’t I?” Lucy replies smugly. She looks up at Dazai, smiling in a way she hopes comes across as sickly-sweet, then traces a line down his chest with her index finger. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.” She pulls Dazai away from Mark, hoping to disappear into the crowd so he won’t realize they don’t actually have anywhere else they need to be.

Dazai huffs out a laugh as they make their escape. “You’re a better liar than I thought you’d be,” he admits.

Lucy flips a braid over her shoulder. “It’s just acting. I did theatre in high school. Mostly ‘cause it kept me at school later, but I did score the Queen of Hearts role when we did Alice in Wonderland.”

“I see,” Dazai muses. “So, did you ever stage-kiss someone?”

“Why? You wanna try?” Lucy responds, before she has a chance to actually think about the words that are coming out of her mouth. She flushes as soon as she hears what she’s said. “I mean—!”

Dazai leans down, tilting Lucy’s face up with on finger hooked under her chin, stopping only once they’re nose-to-nose. “Do you want to try?”

Lucy’s gaze flits down to his lips.

“No,” she says. “Gross. Ew.”

Dazai pouts, pulling back. He clicks his tongue in dismay. “You should be nicer to your girlfriend.”

Fuck him for real.

Lucy pushes herself onto her toes, then pecks his cheek. Her face is on fire, but at least it effectively shut Dazai up completely. He stares at her with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape, seemingly actually caught off guard for once.

“Let’s dance,” she decides, because she figures that will keep the other Guild members and whoever else Dazai needs to avoid away from them. She doesn’t wait for an answer before taking Dazai by the arm and leading him to the dance floor. Dazai follows without complaint, though when Lucy glances over at him, he looks like his brain is still trying to process things.

So much for super genius.

“Have you ever danced like this before?” Dazai inquires, once they come to a stop.

“Once. My school did have a prom. I danced with a girl specifically because one of the chaperone teachers said it wasn’t allowed.”

“Prom?”

“Yeah, the big dance at the end of the year—” Lucy pauses. “Surely you guys at least have school dances here?”

Dazai smiles blankly. “I wouldn’t know, I dropped out of school when I was twelve. …You couldn’t dance with another girl?”

Lucy waves her hand vaguely. “It’s not like I got anything worse than detention. I wasn’t allowed to wear a suit either, but look at me now!” She spreads her arms, spinning around as if Dazai has maybe forgotten what she’s wearing. “I’ve got a suit and a girl, and no one here gives a shit.”

“Oh,” Dazai says. He looks like there’s more he wants to add, but after a moment of silence, he just takes a step closer to Lucy. He rests his arms over her shoulders, so he can still hold onto his cane as they dance, while Lucy’s hands come to rest on his waist. She takes the lead, and they sway slowly to the rhythm of the music.

Honestly, this is way better than prom. Far more exhilarating too, since the stakes are much higher than one measly detention slip.

They chat idly as they dance, with Dazai choosing to ask more questions about Lucy’s high school experience and apparently living vicariously through her stories. Even though, overall, she would describe those four years as a complete shitshow.

After a few songs, they take a break to sit down, so Dazai can rest his leg. They sample the array of appetizers laid out, as well as the champagne, which honestly doesn’t taste like anything special to Lucy.

And then, around the rim of his glass, Dazai mutters, “Louisa-chan is heading our way.”

Lucy’s eyes widen. If there’s one person from the Guild who they really, really, should avoid, it’s Louisa. She and Poe are the only two who could figure out what the real plan is here, but Poe was the one who delivered Lucy’s invitation, so she doubts he’s a threat at this point. Louisa, however…

There are plenty of empty rooms in this building. Has she used her ability to determine exactly what Lucy and Dazai are up to? Is she coming to put a stop to it?

“Dance floor?” Lucy suggests.

Dazai grimaces. That’s a no, then.

Well. Lucy can think of one surefire way to deter Louisa from talking with them.

She lifts Dazai’s glass from his hands, setting it on the table, then scoots her chair closer to his. She grabs him by the arm, dragging him in close.

“What are you—?”

“Getting her to back off,” Lucy interrupts. And then she kisses him square on the lips.

Thankfully, Dazai gets the memo, because he kisses back right away, even going to far as to sigh contentedly into it. He’s not a bad kisser either, if Lucy is going to be honest here. She might even call him good. Not to his face, though. Lucy hasn’t ever actually kissed anyone before—well, technically, there was one of her castmates in her last high school production during the afterparty at the lead actress’ house, but that was just a quick peck during a game of Spin the Bottle, so she’s not really sure that counts. This is…a lot more.

She follows Dazai’s lead, pretty much just blindly hoping she’s doing things right since he hasn’t pulled back or made any snippy comments yet.

When they do finally part, Lucy finds herself breathless and dizzy, clinging to Dazai for support.

“Wow, Lucy-chan,” Dazai laughs, “take a girl out to dinner first!”

Fuck, Lucy thinks. Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

Dazai tilts his head, faux innocence shining in his eyes. “Lucy-chan?”

“Where’s the office you need to get into?” she whispers. “Now would be the perfect time to make our escape.”

A sly smile slips across Dazai’s face. Lucy fucking hates him so much. “How scandalous~” he croons. “Very well. Let’s go.” He stands, then offers a hand to Lucy. She takes it in a daze, letting him pull her to her feet and lead the way out of the ballroom.

The office Dazai brings her to is large, with bookshelves to the ceiling and large windows looking out over the city. Lucy fishes the flash drive from her pocket, then passes it over to Dazai to let him do his thing while she stands guard by the door. From what she can tell, it doesn’t take him long at all to get into the computer and find whatever information it is he’s looking for. She realizes only now that maybe she should have grilled him for more specifics—she knows his evidence of the Agency’s innocence will expose the Hunting Dogs, and more importantly Fukuchi, as the bad guys, but she really doesn’t know how exactly it’s going to do that. Things got a bit tricky with the involvement of the Book since, technically, reality was rewritten so the accusations against the Agency weren’t entirely inaccurate.

Oh, well. That’s not Lucy’s business really, is it? She’s only here because Dazai needed an invite and no one else would be dumb enough to agree. They’re just allies out of convenience.

(Right?)

Lucy finds her gaze drawn back towards Dazai, clicking around on the computer, perched in the office chair in his midnight-blue dress that Lucy took the time to alter herself, making sure it fit him perfectly. Making sure he could play the part of the princess better than ever before. His makeup, too, still glimmers on his face in the light reflected by the screen.

He really does look pretty like this.

It’s almost unfair.

After a minute more, Dazai pulls the thumb drive from the computer and shuts it off. Lucy snaps out of her trance as he stands up and grins at her. He holds up the drive. “Another win for women in STEM.”

Lucy snorts. “Let’s get out of here before we face a loss for women in STEM when we both get arrested.”

Dazai picks up his cane, then strides towards Lucy. “It might be a win still if only you get arrested,” he muses. When he reaches her, instead of just handing the thumb drive back like a normal person, he slips it into her pocket himself. “You are the man here, after all.”

Warmth spills through Lucy’s chest.

“Why can’t I be both?” she challenges.

Dazai pauses. “…Does that make me both, too?”

“Not necessarily.” Lucy takes him by the hand, pulling him into the hall and kicking the door shut behind her. When Dazai turns to lock it, she adds, “I think you make a nice princess, if that’s the only thing you’d like to be.”

Dazai freezes. For a moment, a heavy dead silence hangs over them.

“I,” he says.

Lucy waits. He opens his mouth again, but before he can continue, the unmistakable sound of footsteps walking towards them echoes through the hall. Lucy doesn’t waste time in thinking things through; she just grabs Dazai by the hand and runs. He stumbles for a moment in his haste to follow after her, and she feels a bit bad considering his leg probably isn’t going to deal with this very well, but it’s not like they have any other choice. She can apologize later, when they’re safe and not rotting away in a prison cell.

They dart through the halls, until they wind up at a back staircase that will take them down to the ground floor. Dazai points her in the right direction, because of course he somehow has a floorplan of this entire building memorized.

Lucy stops at the top of the stairs.

“What are you doing?” Dazai hisses.

“Let’s split up,” she suggests. “You go; you have the information and you’re the one who is at risk of being arrested on-sight. If I stay up here, that gives you more time to get down and out of the building. It makes the most sense, with your leg.”

“But—”

“No, we don’t have time to argue about this.” Lucy forcibly switches their spots, so Dazai is standing closer to the stairs, then lets go of him. “If they get too close, I’ll hide out in Anne’s Room for a bit. But I can’t take you there with me, so let me keep you safe in the only way I can.”

She doesn’t wait to see how Dazai will respond to that; she just turns on her heel and starts speed-walking in the opposite direction. A moment later, she hears Dazai’s footsteps going down the stairs, which means he must have realized her plan really did make more sense than the two of them trying to escape together.

At that point, Lucy kicks off into a sprint again, letting her feet hit the floor hard in the hopes of attracting the attention of whoever might be after them, and more importantly, keeping them away from Dazai.

Dazai leaves a shoe at the back door on the way out. Just so Lucy will know the thumb drive is safe.

By the time Lucy makes it down to the ground floor, she sincerely hopes Dazai has managed to escape. She did end up having to pop into Anne’s Room for a minute, but she managed to make it out unscathed and uncaught. She’s in some back hallway now, trying to figure out the way back to the main ballroom, when she very nearly quite literally bumps into Mark.

And…John?

“Hey,” Mark greets. John nods at her.

“What the fuck are you—” Lucy stops, shaking her head. “Never mind. I don’t care.” She brought Dazai to this party, so she supposes Mark making out with an active traitor to the Guild here is not something she has any right to question.

“Your girlfriend passed by here a minute ago,” Mark informs her.

John’s eyebrows shoot up. “Girlfriend? Wait, Louisa?”

“Ummm no, it was…some other girl. Super tall, super gorgeous.” Mark lets out a dreamy sigh.

Lucy stomps on his foot. “Yeah, and she’s my girlfriend. …Wait, where’d you say she went?” She wasn’t actually going to look for Dazai, but it’s not like she has any reason to stick around now that he’s gone.

Mark blinks slowly. “Uhh…” He turns to John. “Do you remember…?”

“I don’t even know who you’re talking about,” John replies unhelpfully.

“Oh. Hmmm…” Mark leans forward. He points to the left. “That way, maybe?”

Well. That’s good enough for Lucy. She turns, heading in the direction he indicated, only to hear two sets of footsteps following her. She pauses, looking over her shoulder.

“What?” John asks. “I want to meet this mysterious girlfriend who is apparently not Louisa.”

Lucy huffs. She’s not in the mood to argue about this right now. “Fine, whatever.”

“Don’t worry, Lucy-chan, we’ll help you find your princess!” Mark drapes himself over her, which is a bit awkward considering they’re both walking right now. “By the way, if you’re in a suit, does that mean you’re a guy now?”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” John argues.

“Which one of us is trans?”

John holds his hands up in surrender.

“So what if I am?” Lucy shoots back, shrugging Mark off of her. She’s aware that is very much not an answer, and from the way Mark squints at her, he must realize she’s dodging directly responding even through the alcohol clouding his thoughts. “I mean, I could be, but I could also still be a girl.” She crosses her arms. “I just don’t think it’s fair to make me choose.”

She’s sort of expecting an argument, but instead, Mark just says, “So true, queen.”

“And king,” John adds.

“And king,” Mark agrees.

Alright. So there’s that, then.

Lucy doesn’t have a chance to think of an appropriate reply, because a second later, she spots a shoe lying abandoned on the ground. Right in front of a door with a glowing exit sign above it.

She hurries over, swiping the shoe from the ground and immediately confirming her suspicions—that it’s one Dazai was wearing. If it’s right in front of the door, that means he must’ve gotten out. Cinderella succeeds in fleeing, but loses one glass slipper in the process.

And it’s up to the prince to track her down afterwards, offering her a fairytale that lasts for more than just one night.

John snickers. “Guess she really is your princess.”

Lucy can’t hold back her smile. She’s glad Dazai isn’t here to see it.

“Yeah,” she agrees, half-giddy. “Now I just have to find her and prove the shoe fits.”

“And where the fuck have you been?”

Dazai looks up to find Chuuya standing with their hands on their hips, lips pursed and one eyebrow raised. It’s a bit funny, to be completely honest. But Dazai always has enjoyed getting a rise out of Chuuya.

“Out.”

“Out where?”

“With Lucy!”

“Right,” Chuuya says dryly. “Your new girlfriend.”

Actually I’m the girlfriend, Dazai thinks, but doesn’t say, because that’s not true anymore, is it? Cinderella left the ball; the fairytale is over, and Dazai Osamu is no longer a princess. Everything is back to normal. How it should be.

“Aww, is Chuuya jealous?”

They scoff. “As if. Wait til I go out with Kunikida-kun; then we’ll see who the jealous one is!”

“Eh?” Dazai sits up. “Hold on, wait, Chuuya—”

Chuuya cackles, walking away without bothering to give Dazai any clues as to whether they’re just saying shit or actually being serious.

Well, whatever. Who cares. The mission with Lucy was a success, and soon enough, the Agency will be back on its feet. Nothing beyond that matters. Not Chuuya, not Lucy, and certainly not any delusions of being a girl.

Lucy marches right up to Chuuya’s apartment and starts incessantly ringing the doorbell until Dazai finally swings the door open. He takes one look at her, and then slams the door in her face. So Lucy continues jamming her finger against the doorbell button, intent on doing exactly that either until it breaks, or Dazai decides he’s ready to let her in. She’s pretty sure Cinderella herself isn’t supposed to be the saboteur in this act of the story, but they’ve been playing loose with the rules of the fairytale, so it sort of makes sense.

“I have your shoe!!!” Lucy calls, over the perpetual ringing. “If you don’t take it now, I’ll wait til Chuuya-san is here and they’ll let me in specifically because you don’t want them to!”

She’s not actually sure if that’s true—it’s more an educated hypothesis than anything—but it does get Dazai to open the door back up. Just a crack, but Lucy slots her own foot into the opening to prevent him from shutting it again.

“I don’t need the shoe,” he says with a wide, fake, smile. “I burned the rest of the outfit!”

“What the fuck,” Lucy says. “Why?!”

“That’s how the story goes!”

Okay, fine. Fair enough. In the tale of Cinderella, her gown and everything else disappears at midnight—everything except for the glass slipper. In some iterations, both slippers, but there’s no reason to be pedantic about details right now. The original story involves cutting off toes and heels, and while that might make things more interesting, Lucy is happy enough to skip over the unnecessary hunt for who the princess even was.

“Well.” Lucy pries the door open further, enough so she can slip inside, though not without great difficulty fighting against Dazai trying to shut her out. “I think you’re forgetting about the finale. The happily ever after, you know?”

“You already know the shoe is mine.”

“It’s not about the shoe, you idiot!” She stomps her foot, and Dazai shrinks back. “I’m not the one who needs to find you.”

“Then the story is over—”

Lucy chucks the shoe across the room at him. Dazai ducks, so it goes sailing past his head and lands on the floor behind him with a harsh thump. “Let me finish! What about the part where, despite what anyone else might think, the prince tells Cinderella he believes she really is capable of being a princess?” She huffs out a sigh, crossing her arms and looking away as her face warms. “I just mean…if I can be both a girl and a guy, you can be whatever you want too. So try the shoe on and find yourself, or something.”

Dazai stares at Lucy for several long moments. She doesn’t take back her words, or laugh like this is all just some big practical joke she’s playing. She continues standing there, waiting, apparently intent on seeing her role as the prince through to the end.

“Do you really think it will still fit me?” Dazai asks.

Lucy shrugs. “I think that depends entirely on whether you want it to or not.”

Well, fuck. That’s the problem! Dazai was hoping she’d give a definitive answer—preferably a negative one—because then there would be no need to face the truth of the desire that simmers in Dazai’s chest, growing harder and harder to ignore. It prickles under the skin, like a heartbeat that can’t be controlled, and it—

Dazai isn’t scared, just—

“You’re trying to be your own wicked step-mother and step-sisters,” Lucy says bluntly. “Just put the damn shoe on.”

Slowly, Dazai pivots and strides over to where the shoe landed. Face up, oddly enough, which makes things easier. Crouching down sort of sucks with a bad leg.

Dazai steps into the shoe—a dark blue flat in the same color as a dress which has since been reduced to ash. The other shoe is still in the closet, though, waiting to be reunited with its match.

Dazai looks up. “Well, would you look at that.” A nervous laugh escapes her. “It fits.”

Lucy grins. He bounds across the room, throwing his arms around her and dragging her into a hug. Dazai holds him back, pressing her face into his shoulder as she lets out a shaky breath, and something that was long-dead and buried deep inside of her begins to glow.