indensity | now we’re swallowing the shine of the summer

now we’re swallowing the shine of the summer

[Chuuya turned into the alley just in time to see Dazai fall over, a man with a bat standing over him. There were a few more people standing around, too - who the hell had his ex-partner pissed off now, Chuuya wondered. And how the hell had they managed to get the better of him. Dazai might be a shitty fighter, but he always had a plan.

Chuuya was already kicking one of the men into a wall when he remembered that Dazai's plan was often him.

If t was, he was going to kill him, he decided. They weren't partners anymore, after all. But it might just be a coincidence, too. This wasn't Port Mafia territory. Dazai probably hadn't known he'd be in the area. But if he'd got himself caught up in some thugs' business without a plan, then Chuuya was really going to kill him.

The last of the men went down, and Chuuya hurried over to check on Dazai. He crouched down next to him, gently patted his face, then pinched his nose for a few seconds to see if he really was passed out, or just being lazy. No reaction. He had a few scratches, some bleeding. One of the wounds looked bad, but it wasn't life threatening - it just needed to be cleaned and bandaged, or he'd almost definitely get an infection.

Alright, so. What the hell did he do?

Most people would bring him to the hospital, but Chuuya wasn't most people. He was mafia. And he knew Dazai valued his privacy, too. He could bring him to that pet agency of his, but the thought of doing that for Dazai made his skin crawl. Besides, he couldn't let word get out that he'd carried a traitor to safety. He could leave Dazai here. But then Dazai wouldn't know Chuuya had helped him, and he really wanted a chance to rub that in the asshole's face.

— He could bring him home.

It felt weird. It was something he would have done when they were partners. But it was only because he wanted to annoy him, not because he actually cared that he was hurt. Still, Chuuya hesitated a bit. He brushed Dazai's hair back, just to check his scalp for any other injuries. Yeah, he'd bring him home. He couldn't wait to see Dazai's face when he realized who had saved his sorry ass.

Carefully, Chuuya shifted Dazai around, pulling him up slightly by the arms, and then leveraged his weight onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry. Then he set off in the direction of his apartment. ]

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[Of course Dazai had plans. His plans had plans, and even his plans' plans probably had at least a vague idea or two. But even the best-laid plans of men and suicide maniacs could go awry, and considering how layered Dazai's plans were, always more like a maze than a direct path, it was a miracle that they didn't end up a mess more often.

He'd taken too big a gamble - or, perhaps more likely: a certain someone had tipped off the people his plans involved, and they were Not Happy. It was hardly the first time he'd gotten hurt for no good reason, but this was definitely tricky. Still, he expected to be taken to this particular group's hide-out if anything, and he'd manage something or other there. Probably. Maybe. Considering the limited options for who could have tipped them off about his true intentions, being killed was always an option. It wasn't a desired outcome, but he wouldn't truly mind it, either.

Still, some person or other always got in the way of that, didn't they? As Dazai came to, the world all turned around and shaking a bit, it only took him a moment or two to make out where the ground was, and realize his situation. Ahhh... Yes, that was definitely not according to plan.

But even so... His head hurt, his stomach wasn't doing much better, and one of his legs had a nasty cut that, while hardly fatal, would be annoying to walk with. Closing his eyes again, Dazai decided that he might as well see this through. After all, his greatest talent was knowing where effort was required, and where he could coast by just fine without.

Besides, if Chuuya was going to insist on "saving" him, he could damn well be the one to put in the effort. He wouldn't get to take credit, otherwise! This was practically doing him a favor, if one with a nasty aftertaste.]

[Right now, the fact that he couldn't use his Ability on Dazai was frustrating. In most situations he'd gotten used to working around it, or even working with it, but no matter how skinny Dazai was, he was still taller than him, and the weight was slowing him down. And Chuuya didn't want to be seen.

He had to walk, where normally he could easily run while carrying a person or three. He had to stick to the ground, when a shortcut across some rooftops would have made it easier to stay hidden. But they actually weren't too far from his apartment. Chuuya kept to the sidestreets, where fewer people were out this time of day, and just walked straight past the few people who were out. They stared, but they weren't anyone who knew him. They'd forget about the strange sight soon enough.

He'd pay them off if he had to.

It took him fifteen minutes of walking - usually it would only take him five - before he reached his building. The elevator took them straight up to his penthouse apartment, where he headed straight for his bedroom, throwing Dazai down on the bed simply because it was the most convenient place to dump him.

But carrying a grown man for fifteen minutes was enough to make even him want a break.

He'd have to patch Dazai up before he could sit down himself.]

You definitely owe me after this, you damn mackerel.

[Said mostly to himself. Thankfully, he has a well stocked first aid kit, kept close by.]

[Rude. Rude! Ex-partners didn't just throw ex-partners on beds!! ... They just ditched them unconscious in dangerous locations, duh. Should have really followed Dazai's shining example, Chuu.

It hurt (rather a lot, actually) to be dumped like that, even onto a soft bed, but Dazai didn't make a sound. He was unsurprisingly good at that. Call it a special talent.

But when Chuuya talked, Dazai talked back, the half-corpse of him suddenly very much alive and conscious. Getting the final word in was just that important.]

For what, exactly?

[Don't jump against the ceiling, now. Not that Dazai couldn't drag you back soon enough.]

I don't recall asking for your help.

[Dazai wasn't really moving, but he was definitely looking at Chuuya with a sharp gaze, almost as if he were just lounging on the bed.
... Well, maybe not quite that casually. Blood-loss and a likely concussion did make it a little more difficult than usual.]

[Chuuya didn't jump. He did startle a bit, but really, the fact that Dazai was awake after all really shouldn't surprise him. He should have pinched his nose again, just to check.

He glared at him as he walked back over with the first aid kit.]

No, because you couldn't ask, because you'd been knocked out by some lowlife thugs. You might want to die, but even you wouldn't want to look that pathetic doing it.

[He sat on the edge of the bed, hestiating a bit. This was going to be awkward.]

Can you get your clothes off? I need to clean your wounds so you'll stop bleeding all over my sheets. [A pause.] And do you need a bucket?

You don't know that! My taste in men may have changed since last we talked~

[Even if his expression didn't quite keep up, he managed to keep his voice pretty much as playful as normal, which was as good as things were likely to get right now. It was satisfying, really. Maybe it wasn't a whole lot, but in this context? Dazai would take it.

Especially because Chuuya was 100% right, which was unforgivable.]

No, if I'm going to throw up, I want to do so in your bed. I don't think I've ever puked on sheets this fancy before!

[Very, very unlikely. But some things were better off forgotten.

Well, it couldn't all be banter, alas... With a sigh, Dazai pushed himself up enough to sit, just so he could take his shirt off. He could leave it to Chuuya just for the sake of it, but that might end up violent and/or involving knives, and shockingly Dazai was just not in the mood.

He was already regretting that decision not to get a bucket, but so be it. While it might be fun to ruin Chuuya's sheets with something more than blood, he didn't feel like getting the taste of vomit in his mouth. Slowly, he unbuttoned his vest and shirt, pushing them off bony shoulders. The bandages on his arms and chest were soaked in several places, and the sight of it made him chuckle.]

They don't make bandages the way they used to, do they?

[Yes, well. Surprisingly, bandages weren't very useful as a preemptive measure.]

You always had shitty tastes.

[Chuuya wasn't remotely fooled by the playful tone of voice. It's not (just) that he knew Dazai too well to trust that nonchalant attitude, it's that anyone who'd been knocked out was going to have a raging headache. No exceptions. Not even for asshole traitors.

There was some satisfaction in that.

But if he was treating him, he was going to do it right. Might as well get him some painkillers.]

Get the rest of it off, too, or I'm cutting it off.

[...Dazai was right about the knives.

And since Dazai seemed to be managing to get his clothes off without help, Chuuya got up again to go get him a glass of water from the kitchen. He found a bucket as well, returning with both a few moments later, and dug painkillers out of the kit for him.]

They really got you good, huh.

[Shitty taste, was it? Giving Chuuya a look, Dazai simply smiled, and said nothing. The comment was both correct and very wrong, but he hardly felt like vocalizing a detailed analysis of himself, his tastes, and where the two might conflict - least of all in front of Chuuya, who for all his strengths and weaknesses both was just so simple. Dazai might almost be jealous.

Fortunately he couldn't be bothered with such feelings on a good day. In a way, he'd died a long time ago, and it was just a matter of waiting for reality to catch up. That kind of attitude didn't lend itself to a lot of the hopes and ambitions that might have once fueled jealousy.

Yet here he was! Still alive, after all. Whether it was a good thing or a bad thing, he didn't really know, but it was about as anti-climactic as he'd come to expect from life.]

I see your desire to see me naked hasn't abated at all. Is your sexual frustration still as concentrated as the rest of you?

[He might have deliberately waited until Chuuya was walking away to say that. Even Dazai's suicidal urges had their limits.

Getting his pants off was annoying, lifting one side of his hips after the other, but he managed to get them far enough down his thighs that cutting wouldn't be necessary. Pushing them down all the way was too painful (and nausea-inducing), so he didn't bother.

DID YOU SAY PAINKILLERS?! ヾ(０∀０*★)ﾟ*･.｡ Okay but how many would Chuuya hand over, because while Dazai wouldn't OD, he'd definitely try to take more than he was supposed to, just for the sake of it.]

I suppose they didn't do too badly. [He sounded like a teacher begrudgingly giving the class a passing grade in spite of being underwhelmed.] All the same, they lacked a certain creativity that could have made up for their lack of effectiveness.

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