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“I knew it, working with you is the worst.”
Chuuya walks out of a dark, cramped alleyway reeking of trash and metal. The sole of his shoe left footprints in red, white shirt stained crimson, and droplets of blood cling on his cheek. Shades of blue and purple are starting to evolve on his skin, and tomorrow morning, the colours will surely go in full bloom, along with the pain.
What a messy night.
From behind, his partner emerges from the darkness, not looking better than Chuuya himself. His dark overlord mantle is ripped, the bandages are soaked with blood, and neither of them knows which belongs to whom anymore.
“That’s supposed to be my line.” Dazai sighs, holding on to his right waist. Blood is actively seeping through his white shirt - an aftermath of the knife piercing his flesh - and he could barely brush off the grimace on his face. “I told Mori-san that I can handle this myself. And look at that, things become messy thanks to you.”
“Oh, so now it’s my fault now? You were the one who shot that bullet when I told you not to! Thanks to that, they go berserk!”
“They would unleash those Ability users either way.”
“We could at least avoid the injuries if you hadn’t.”
This mission is Chuuya’s first job being unsupervised by Ane-san, and Chuuya had been looking forward to it. Unknowingly, Boss partnered him up with Dazai, who also thought he was going on a solo mission. This is their first mission together, and as expected, it turns out to be a disaster on the field. It’s still a wonder how they can manage to finish their job almost flawlessly.
Dazai rolls his eyes, too tired to snark back upon Chuuya’s annoying barking. He pulls out his phone and calls for clean up. “Job done. I warn you, it’s a mess. ”
Chuuya nudges Dazai on the elbow. “Call for a car.”
Just to spite Chuuya, Dazai ends the call. Their inn is only five minutes away through foot anyway.
“Fucking idiot,” Chuuya growls, pushing Dazai to a wall and lowering him down. “Walking with those injuries? And I thought you don’t want to die in pain?”
“Stupid Chuuya thinks this amount of blood can kill a person?” Dazai snorts, immediately regretting it as a shot of pain spreads through his body. “Your hats really eat out your already tiny brain.”
“Shut your fucking mouth up.”
Chuuya rips Dazai shirt, ignoring Dazai’s complaints about being cold and his grumblings about ‘brutish chibi’, and wraps the cloth around Dazai’s waist, making sure to cover the wound and apply enough pressure to control the bleeding. That will have to do for now, at least until they return to the inn and replace it with proper bandages. Going to a hospital is not an option, and they can only go back to a Mafia-appointed one in the morning when the car comes to pick them up.
Without his shirt, Dazai is left with his damaged overcoat, which doesn't really help drive the cold away. Chuuya wraps Dazai in his coat - much to both of their reluctance - to ease the cold winter air puncturing Dazai's skin.
After they finish up, Chuuya holds Dazai’s arm around his shoulders and carries Dazai up to his feet. “Let’s go.”
“I can walk perfectly fine alone.”
“Fine, whatever,” Chuuya snaps, letting go of his hold. Dazai stumbles, struggling a little to regain his balance, and Chuuya has his grasp back on Dazai’s body. “Perfectly fine my ass.”
Whining, Dazai tugs on Chuuya to make it harder for him. “Urgh, this is embarrassing. I can’t believe I have to be supported by a slimy slug.”
“Stop complaining. You’re not the one who’s doing the work.”
“I won’t! You’re my dog, and you’re supposed to listen to what I say!”
“Again with that bullshit?”
With all their bickering along the way, they arrive at the inn before they even realise it. They sneak over the back door to avoid being seen by regular civilians of their questionable state of appearance, jumping over one shadow to another and slips into their room.
“Why the hell is the room so cold?” Chuuya fumes, turning on the lights. He swears he turned on the heater before they left the room. Dread pools upon his stomach, and he rushes to the bathroom, turning the hot water on. Two minutes pass and the water is still ice cold. “Fuck!”
“Let me guess, there’s no hot water either?”
“No shit! I can’t believe they don’t know the heaters are broken!”
This day hasn’t been kind to both Dazai and Chuuya. First, the room. They’re supposed to have their own separate rooms, but the inn only had this one room left unoccupied - thankfully, they still have their own separate beds. Secondly, the mission. They left an incredibly bloody crime scene that’s hard to clean (even Dazai felt sorry for the clean-up crew), and they sustained some injuries requiring medical assistance. And now, the goddamn heaters are broken. In winter. No showers for them, then.
Stomping his way out, Chuuya roughly picks up the in-room telephone and calls for the front desk. “Yes. Hello. This is from room 718. The heater here is broken, can somebody fix it? Yeah? Seriously, there is no one? At all ? Okay fine, how about a spare room? No? So you’re saying we have to sleep in the cold like this? Fine, whatever. Send them here. We need all of the spare blankets you have to survive this cold. Thank you.”
A slam to the cradle ends the call.
“Of course there’s no one. It’s past midnight and we’re at a village.” Dazai groans. “Ah, it’s been a while since I’ve had a lot of trouble during missions. You bring bad luck, Chuuya.”
“Feelings mutual, bastard.”
“We’ll just need to make do with whatever we have.”
Sighing, Dazai removes his coat and grabs the first aid kit. He removes the fabric wrapping his waist and throws it into the bin. Chuuya brings in a damp cloth and passes it to Dazai, which he uses to wipe off the blood before applying some disinfectant and ointment around the wound. Rolls of fresh bandages come flying to Dazai under the influence of gravity manipulation.
In return, Dazai fetches a specific tube on the first-aid bag and throws it to Chuuya. “Use that.”
“...Thanks.”
Entering the bathroom, Chuuya cleans himself up using a damp towel and applies the gel on his bruises. Dazai takes his turn after Chuuya is done to change the dirty bandages wrapping his neck and limbs. Cladded in a new batch of clothes, the time has come for his well-deserved rest.
The lights have been turned off, and Chuuya has buried his body underneath layers of blankets. On Dazai’s own bed, a stack of spare blankets has been prepared. Following Chuuya’s technique, he covers his body with all the blankets available and makes himself comfortable in his cocoon.
Not a minute passes when he feels the cold seeping in through the layers, and soon enough, his feet are as cold as ice, and he’s starting to shiver. How the hell does Chuuya sleep the cold out?
“...Dazai, you still up?”
Speak of the devil.
“Hm?”
“It’s cold.”
Dazai snorts. Not even a genius has to tell him that. “Enlighten me.”
“Yeah well, I have an idea for us to sleep, so stop being an asshole for a moment, will you?”
Looking at their condition, the only way to keep warm is to…
Chuuya considers Dazai’s silence as a sign of understanding. Of course, rooming with the bandage-wasting bastard is bad enough, much less sharing a bed with him, but…
“Fine,” Dazai whispers, stirring on his bed, and pulls the blankets aside. Chuuya drags his blankets in tow and slips into the limited space between the wall and Dazai. Seeking warmth to survive, Dazai pulls Chuuya’s back into his chest, and Chuuya intertwines his limbs with Dazai’s, and finally, they’re not trembling and dying from the cold anymore.
Without the temperature as a threat for hypothermia and death, drowsiness soon takes over their tired body. Just before he falls asleep, Dazai mumbles, “In the morning, we’ll pretend this never happened.”
“Agreed.”
That night, they fall asleep in each other’s embrace and warmth.