Chapter Text
Chuuya heaved an unsteady sigh, trying to steel himself against the intrusive emotions that threatened to compromise his composure. In the past year, this had been far from the last time Dazai and his paths had been orchestrated to cross by the respective agencies that each man worked for.
Resentment pressed down on his Adam’s apple with the thought of having to once again pretend that they collaborated well together.... No, that wasn't right exactly. They collaborated nearly flawlessly-each gift existed as if designed with the other in mind.
A small cut started to bleed on the inside of his lower lip from biting it in anxious thought. The pain drew him away from the idea of them being perfect together... What a crass notion. Dazai had a knack for making the perfect digs and jokes to make Chuuya feel humiliated and often small.
Of course, this was surmountable as the pair had cultivated an innate trust despite all social incompatibility. Corruption would have ended his life time and time again had it not been for Dazai. That surely counted for something... Not that it mattered. Dazai had left him in the end. Their paths only crossed for professional reasons now. No logic in denying or mourning it.
"That was it. That must have been it."
Chuuya looked up sharply, ripped away from his spiral of thoughts as he flatly replied, "That was what?"
"Chuuya's last brain cell. That was it. I just witnessed it leave your mind."
Irritation rippled inside of the mafia executive. Chuuya knew very well he wasn't a simpleton despite Dazai's constant reminders of it. Dazai once again managed to completely sneak up on him. So annoying.
"Fuck off, I'm not in the mood," Chuuya grumbled as his anxious mind numbed itself into the of background their usual banter. Irritation was a much more welcome feeling, a normal and glad distraction.
"Well, I've been speaking to you for the past several moments, so I figured that distant look on your face was a sad and empty funeral you were giving to your last brain cell," Dazai elaborated.
This elicited a glare from Chuuya, who resisted the urge to smile. The joke might have been amusing if it weren't at his expense.
"The only funeral that'll happen is yours if you don't shut the fuck up," he eventually retorted. Dazai opened his mouth to reply, but Chuuya cut him off before he could carry on--"Anyway, what were you saying before?"
"...Hmph. Since your single rogue brain cell has evidently returned, I suppose I can humor you," Dazai went on unperturbed. "As I was saying, we will need to infiltrate the establishment at the peak hour of business. The bustle of the usual clientele should give us a decent enough cover. I'm going to ask you to wear an earpiece for communication, I want to spit up and cover more ground. Don't worry about connectivity, I've already linked it to your phone."
Chuuya's eyes narrowed. His phone had been secure and in his hand for the past hour at least. "I doubt that" he complained, dangling his phone between two fingers in gesture.
"Oh, I meant your personal phone, not your work phone." The smirk on Dazai's face was insufferable. Chuuya held out his hand in rage, and Dazai gleefully slapped the personal device down along with an earpiece into it. No telling what other havoc he might have wreaked while hacking into it.
"Do try to keep your fucking hands out of my personal things, you piece of shit." Dazai was constantly snagging things off him, but this one was particularly intrusive. Where did this mother fucker get the gall to take his cell phone? If it had been the burner device provided by the Port Mafia, that would have been one thing... But his personal cell phone?
"I mean it," He glowered at the persistent smirk on Dazai's over-confident-bastard face, wondering what information he could have extracted and what would inevitably be done with it. Still feeling a bit distracted, he continued, "the plan works fine for me. Although in a crowded night club, I don't see my ability as the best course of action. Any particular reason I was assigned?" He truly wanted to hear his partner's thoughts on this, as Corruption would only cause needless deaths in a crowded place if activated. What was the ADA and Port Mafia's play at deploying this dark duo in a public night club of all places?
Dazai shrugged, but Chuuya was sure he was withholding some sort of strategy or intel. Why was their trust and partnership so incredibly one-sided? Even though Chuuya risked his life, offered the ultimate sacrifice, and placed intrinsic trust in Dazai, the respect was never reciprocated. No offer of praise or confirmation when Chuuya bent over backwards for the mafia, ADA, for Dazia himself. Just the same belittling antagonization and sarcasm. The lack of respect was enough to destroy any hope for a proper relationship with Chuuya Nakahara; but the abandonment issues he had suffered with Dazai were the real nail in their coffin.
Chuuya shook his head in irritation. "You are a real fucking piece of work, you know that? It's no wonder no one has gotten close to you since..." Chuuya stopped himself despite the anger. He would not dare bring up Oda's name in an argument. The taste of regret had already invaded his mouth at the implied reference of the deceased man. Chuuya knew the line was as good as crossed. More than he hated Dazai in that moment, he hated himself for the attempted stab. Instead of voicing the apology that lingered in the back of his throat, Chuuya let Dazai speak next with a cold gaze.
"Don't question orders. It's not a dog's place," Dazai replied without his usual teasing and light tone. "Cab's gonna be here in a fifteen. Be ready outside the main doors."
Chuuya watched Dazai stalk away and sighed internally. However hurt and bitter Chuuya felt over never receiving an apology for being left behind, he still felt guilty at dealing such a low blow. It was time he let these personal issues go, and act like a professional. So what if their partnership was beyond repair? They were still lethal and efficient in a fight.
With a deep, steeling breath, Chuuya followed his ADA counterpart down the stairs and out into the night air. They stood in silence as the car pulled up and Chuuya took the door facing the traffic on the street. Dazai's gray eyes followed his movements blankly, and Chuuya anxiously hoped that this would be the last time they worked together. It was obvious that things would never be the same. He wasn't sure what his heart was holding out for.
"This is it," the vibrations of loud music seemed to say as the car pulled up against the curb. "もつれ" glowed in blue neon. Dazai had been here last week to scope the layout and get a feel for the atmosphere, but the place seemed foreign in the literal sense to Chuuya. The bouncer at the door did not look Japanese and spoke in what sounded like a romance language.
"Italian," Dazai confirmed under his breath. "The target might be here tonight after all. Looks like my sources are still solid." Normally Dazai entered a situation such as this with extensive preparation, but the man he hunted was an elusive enigma: Hard to find and rumored to be the most dangerous man in Europe.
For this reason, Dazai had specifically requested Chuuya's company from The Port Mafia Boss. If all hell broke loose, then Chuuya would be right at home. Tainted Sorrow was made for Dazai. They could surmount any enemy together if it came down to it.
"You can go in through the front, Slug. You'll fit it with this crowd more seamlessly. I'll find my way in through the back. Try not to have too much fun!" Chuuya jumped a little when Dazai clapped him on the back, warily unsure of what he meant by "fit in". The reason became clear enough as Chuuya was beckoned to the front of the line by the Italian usher not five minutes later. This was unmistakably a gay bar.
Upon entry, the night club's smoke and mist shifted around him. Dark and blaring melodies eliminated any hopes of having a conversation without borderline shouting, although the intoxicated patrons did not seem to mind this. "I hate it here, let's get this shit over with", he muttered into his earpiece.
Annoyance soured Chuuya's mood further as he attempted to navigate his way to some sort of VIP section. That was most likely where the man of interest would be in a place like this. Chuuya squeezed his way through a dancing mass to finally catch his breath at what seemed to be the only empty table in the entire house. "Any idea where the VIP area is in this shit hole, Dazai?"
"I'm already headed towards it. There are several boxes and private rooms from what I could gather, so I can knock those out. If I catch sign of him, I'll give you the signal," Dazai explained. "You can hang around and enjoy a drink if you want-flirt with someone who might take pity on an awkward slug."
The suggestion was a jab. Dazai knew very well that Chuuya would rather spend his evening at a small restaurant or wine bar. He detested the casual flippancy of a place like this. No class. No intimacy. Chuuya would rather search the isolated rooms of the VIP section, but even they would have to have miracle sound proofing to drown out the music. Something about the song's minor melody that lilted into an ear-splitting bass drop made him even more uneasy. He drummed his fingers on the table impatiently as Dazai went silent on the other end of the line.
"Are you... lonely?" An olive-skinned man asked Chuuya in labored English. No introductions or preamble. Chuuya was taken aback by the bluntness of the question, and even more surprised that he could somehow make out the words perfectly in all the chaos and noise. "Ah! My apologies. I have not practiced my English in a long time and do not know Japanese well." The man made a pivot closer and continued, "I meant to say, 'are you here alone?' "
Chuuya relaxed some at the clarification and decided against being rude. The man was clearly Italian and there might be a connection to the Mafioso they were hunting on this god-forsaken mission. On guard, Chuuya finally replied, "Not exactly... And you?"
"Not exactly," the man mimicked with a sly smile. "Not anymore, perhaps." He slid into the space beside Chuuya, quite too familiar too quickly. "You look like the wine type." A glass of cabernet sauvignon was presented on the table's surface and Chuuya eyed it with a bit of surprise. He hadn't noticed the man carrying it before.
"I..." Chuuya found himself struggling for words. The man's interest was potentially useful to gain intel. Chuuya stared into a pair of intense light coffee eyes. He tried to pinpoint what the intensity might be attributed to. Was it desire? Nervousness? Adrenaline? Chuuya lifted the glass gently to take a sip. Of course, there was no way he was about to drink on the job; he would fake taking a taste. There was a little gravity trick he had developed to siphon the liquid into the air on the other side of his face, giving his pursuer the idea that he was accepting whatever invitation was being offered. It had worked before in a drinking contest with Dazai and became decidedly just as useful in a situation like this.
A bit of shock entered his chest as he realized that instead of faking the drinking motion, he had somehow actually filled his mouth with a long pull the wine. He reflexively swallowed and his eyes stung and watered as he nearly choked. He let out an embarrassed cough and his head filled with the aroma of the drink. This wine was undoubtedly expensive. The flavor had a twinge of...
"Oh, you don't like it?" the man inquired with a small frown. A hand lightly touched Chuuya's chin and turned his face away from the wine glass and upward towards the man’s eyes. "Did I get it wrong? You prefer liquor then." A part of Chuuya hoped that Dazai was not listening to this rather mortifying exchange of flirting, but his smarter half was desperately not wanting to be alone at the same time. Not to mention, if something important was mentioned about the Italian Mafioso they were hunting, Dazai would more likely be able to pick it out. This mission had been Dazai's main project for the past several months and Chuuya had been called in last minute, not having much of a chance to get a full briefing. On top of that, he started to become increasingly aware of just how attractive the Italian was. His tone was liquid and polite, but there was something unsettling lingering between them. He radiated a type of arrogance and danger that was almost...thrilling.
Chuuya tried to keep his voice casual. "No, you've actually pinned me right-wine is my preference by far. It's been a while since someone has treated me to a glass this fine. To be frank, I didn't think a place like this even offered this caliber of cabernet.”
"A fine wine seemed to be the only drink to suit you." By this point, the two were mere inches apart, the light hold still present on Chuuya’s chin.
"Your accent... it's European," Chuuya pointed out conversationally, hoping his voice didn’t betray his discomfort.
The mysterious Italian leaned in close to Chuuya's left ear. Only millimeters from the earpiece he breathed, "It is. So glad that you found me."
Without warning, the man's right hand deftly removed the communication device. An unceremonious CRUNCH sound indicated that the earpiece had been destroyed with little to no effort. Chuuya's brow furrowed at the sudden action. How had he moved so quickly?
To further the confusion, Chuuya felt a firm arm snake around his waist. Disorientation swept over him, and he vaguely felt grateful for the support.
"You over drank, I see. What a shame, the night is so young," he said with a twisted concern. "Can you walk?" The question seemed ridiculous after a single sip of wine, but Chuuya felt a bit of dread as his left knee gave out.
"Shit..." he felt the room upheave while another arm snaked under his knees and lifted him off the ground. "Shit," Chuuya reiterated as the ceiling spun dangerously overhead. A part of him realized that the man hadn't been moving especially fast at all. He himself had been reacting with abnormal delay.
Shutting his eyes tightly, his head dropped against what must have been the stranger's chest. Even the solid place to lean against offered little respite from the overwhelming and sudden onset of vertigo. Chuuya breathed slowly and tried to subside the spinning in his head, only to notice a roaring sound in his ears that slowly drowned out the cacophony of the night club. The debilitating sensation was so consuming that Chuuya completely forgot about the smashed earpiece. Each moment was a struggle just to stay awake, which seemed vitally important for a reason he couldn't quite recall.
"I fear you have had too much to drink. But do not worry, I will take care of you," were the last velvety words he heard before giving in to the black, roaring sound in his ears.