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Dazai, Chuuya can begrudgingly admit, has a few good qualities. He’s a genius, he’s a great strategist, he thinks ten times faster than the average person, he’s a good lockpicker, and a master marksman.
Apparently though, he’s also a city boy, and has never stepped foot in a real forest.
They’re given what seems like any other undercover mission that they’ve gone on - establish their cover, sneak in for intel, then dip. Easy, they’ve done it dozens of times. They’ve played boyfriends, best friends, colleagues, strangers, rivals, even teenage parents on one memorable occasion (they borrowed an actual baby, and caring for it had been the most stressful two days of Chuuya’s life; it was the first time he’d seen Dazai genuinely cry cause of all the stress). They’ve done it all, you’d think.
Chuuya failed to realize that all of those missions took place in civilization - hotels, casinos, schools, bathhouses, large cities or small villages; they always had basic infrastructure to fall back on, a normal bed to sleep in, a shower, a kitchen and four walls.
This particular time, Mori tasks them with sneaking into a cult-ish organization of some sort. It’s not usually something that the Mafia would care about, but they have financial records that would be useful to the legal branch of Port Mafia.
All fine and dandy - Dazai flips through the brief as usual, comes up with a strategy, and they depart a few days later.
The cult, apparently, is into living free of technology and all things manmade; they fund their lifestyle by running a camping ground. It’s a huge chunk of dense forests, rough terrain, probably some wild animals. The website advertises that staying there is a real camping experience. No cabins, no campers, no running water or electricity, no service.
Dazai told him to get their equipment ready - and Chuuya didn’t think it strange at first; it’s just like him to dodge responsibilities. Looking at him at the gates to the forest, though - glancing at the tall trees, clutching one sleeve in nerves like he often does, switching his balance from one foot to another like he doesn’t quite know how to stand in the chunky hiking shoes - Chuuya has his epiphany.
Dazai’s never been camping. Hell, he’s probably never been in the woods.
They’ve been in small forests before - it’s the best way to lose a tail after a mission. They cut through the woods outside of Yokohama often enough. This is a real forest, though. Dense, thick and wild, and Dazai looks like he’s just realized he’s completely out of his depth.
A fish out of water, Chuuya thinks with a snort. When Dazai glances at him - trepidation still present in his features, Chuuya bumps his shoulder with his own, and takes Dazai’s hand. Dazai only takes a second to lace their fingers together, and they enter the only building in sight.
“Hi,” Chuuya says to the woman at the reception. She’s an older lady with kind eyes - he doubts she knows she's working for a bunch of cultists. A good front will usually have people that don’t know anything. “We, uh, we have a booking for the night here? To, uh, to camp?”
Chuuya lets his voice be filled with a little nervous excitement, unnecessarily adding that they’re going camping in a damn camping ground. When the lady looks at him, then at Dazai who’s standing a little behind him, she smiles a very knowing smile.
It’s the easiest cover in the world - a teenage couple looking for time alone. Not suspicious that it’s just the two of them, or that they’d be constantly in each others’ spaces or whispering into each others’ ear.
It’s a pain in the ass every time - dealing with acting like a couple knowing it’s not real, but Chuuya can’t do much about it. He sucks it up, and enjoys the fleeting touches as much as he can.
“Right, of course,” she giggles a little. “And your last name, darling?”
“Nakamura.”
She clicks on her computer a few times, and then reaches down under the desk - she gives them two bracelets, woven from thick material and with a metal buckle.
“You’ll need these to enter, and if anyone from the staff asks once you’re inside. You’re free to set up camp anywhere you wish. If there’s any equipment you need, there’s a shop right here,” she smiles kindly as she says so. After they put on the bracelets - Dazai fumbles with his, playing into the ‘nervous rich boy’ thing he’s going for - she goes over the rules for them. They both already know, but listen anyway, and at last thank her for the time.
“Let’s go check out the store,” Dazai insists, tugging Chuuya’s arm. Chuuya frowns.
“We have everything already.”
“But what if we don’t?” Dazai insists with a little pout. “Just a few minutes,” Dazai pleads, batting his eyelashes. It’s for show, but it’s still cute - Chuuya doesn’t have to fake the exasperated sigh, nor the smile that falls on his face.
They go around the store, Dazai pointing out a bunch of different things or asking Chuuya pointless questions, then running off whenever he sees something shiny. It’s not that different than what he’s usually like.
Well, safe for his method of trying to convince Chuuya to buy him a stuffed toy (he doesn’t even know why they sell plush toys here). He bats his eyelashes and drapes himself over Chuuya, nosing at his choker while murmuring low under his breath how much he’d like it and that he needs it and please, Chuuya, all breathy and whiny.
It really shouldn’t be so effective, and Dazai has no business being such a good fucking actor. Out of the corner of his eye, Chuuya can see the cashier sigh and roll his eyes - good. Chuuya’s pretty sure teenagers come out here to hook up all the time, so they shouldn’t stand out too much.
With a groan, he picks up the stuffed Cinnamoroll for Dazai - he’s not even that mad that he has to pay for it, not with how Dazai kisses his cheek before he bounces off again to look at some other trinket.
From there, they exit the store - Dazai noted one camera, only the one employee, and nothing suspicious or helpful - and head through the welcome center back outside.
The entrance gate is gigantic - the entire fence securing the property is thick metal, with barbed wire at the top - carefully, Chuuya props a hand on it while pretending to adjust his backpack. Ability resistant metal, too. If that’s not suspicious, he doesn’t know what could be.
The security guard scans their bracelets, gives them a map, and wishes them a good stay. The gate closes behind them with a groan, and Dazai and Chuuya are left to fend for their own in the forest.
“Which way, then?” Dazai asks, grabbing at the map. He unfurls it, only to scan it and frown at it.
“Why are you taking it if you can’t read it,” Chuuya sighs fondly, gently taking the map from Dazai’s hands.
They know the layout already, but they’re both pretty sure there will be eyes on them - they have to stay in character no matter what. It’s not like Chuuya is going to complain - he’s done worse things than have Dazai nuzzle into him all the time.
“They have a lake!”
“Mmh,” Chuuya hums, glancing at the map, rotating it once or twice. “Do you wanna camp out there?”
“It could be fun,” Dazai suggests. “I don’t have a swimsuit, though.”
“Who says we need them,” Chuuya shrugs with a grin. He looks at the map once more - for show, mostly - and then starts walking forward. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”
Dazai squeals in faux-embarrassment behind him, and their mission begins.
They walk for several hours, hand in hand. The terrain isn’t too bad - Chuuya likes to hike, so it doesn’t bother him at all, and it’s actually quite peaceful. Surprisingly, Dazai seems to be enjoying himself as well. He whines about his backpack being too heavy, and he’s slower than Chuuya, but he sees him looking around to check out the scenery more than once. Chuuya reminds him to drink water, and nudges him along when he slows down too much, but overall, he’s not doing too badly.
About 3/4ths of the way, Dazai whines that he’s tired and hungry, so Chuuya humors him and pulls out a bag of chocolate pretzels and sits himself on some rock by a tree. He pulls out the map once more to roughly mark where they are (he makes sure to put the marker slightly more east than where they actually are, since a high school kid wouldn’t be that accurate, he thinks), while Dazai nuzzles into him, winding his hands around Chuuya’s waist.
Watched, Dazai’s fingers tap against Chuuya’s stomach, partially hidden by the map.
Ah, the stop makes sense now. Chuuya hasn’t been looking around that much - he’s mostly been paying attention to trail markers, making sure they’re going in the right direction, letting Dazai play up his curiosity.
The map is promptly tugged out of his hands - he voices a complaint, but it dies in his throat when Dazai sits himself in his lap instead, and Chuuya only has a split second before Dazai’s lips are on his.
They’ve done this before - such missions require them to be convincing, and teenage couples have the worst kind of PDA on the planet. It was awkward, at first - when Dazai tentatively mumbled that he’s never kissed anyone, and Chuuya said the same thing. Their experiences together were their firsts.
Somewhere along the way, the awkwardness was lost. Their motions became experienced, the touches practiced, and they both pushed further in this… whatever that they are. It no longer feels like pretend, at times. The way the fit against each other so perfectly, the little noises Dazai makes, the way he melts under the right touch, the smile he feels at his lips when Chuuya nudges him with his nose. Sometimes, in moments like these, Chuuya lets himself hope that he’s not alone in this. That Dazai, just maybe, feels the same way.
They never talk about it. Once a mission is done, those little moments are left hanging in limbo, never acknowledged by either of them. Chuuya always tells himself he’ll bring it up once the mission is done, and then never goes through with it. The thought of Dazai breaking this off, leaving Chuuya forever without those intimate touches and heated kisses, makes something ugly churn in his stomach.
It’s hard to complain in the moment, though - when Dazai sighs that little sigh as their kiss breaks, and he leans back just a bit. The sun peaks through the trees and shines into his eyes - molten honey glistening like a prism. Against the backdrop of green, Dazai looks like a forest nymph, a creature meant to kill with his pretty face.
“You’re so impatient,” Chuuya laughs. “We’re not even there yet.”
“We’re alone, though,” Dazai complains - a touch loud, but he’s playing it up for the voyeur. They’ve got no way to know if it’s another camper being a creep or if they’re being watched by the cult, so it’s better to be safe than sorry. “That was the whole point.”
“Alone is one thing, getting arrested for public indecency is another. How’d you explain that to your dad, hm?”
“You’re such a buzzkill,” Dazai pouts. Chuuya laughs again, and kisses the pout away.
They sit there for a few more minutes, exchanging kisses between Dazai snacking on the pretzels. They’re a little behind schedule - Chuuya would like to set up their camp as soon as possible, so they could explore a bit of the area they think the cult hideout is - but still, Chuuya lets Dazai rest a bit. He’d noticed him wincing when walking already.
He’s definitely never gonna hear the end of Dazai’s bitching once the mission is over.
Once the bag of pretzels has been emptied, they’re on their way once more.
It isn’t long until they reach the area they picked for camp - not too far from the lake, but not on the shore of it, either. They go for setting up their tent between a few trees for the cover that it gives.
Dazai, of course, proceeds to sit on the ground and be completely useless while Chuuya sets up their tent. He hugs his new plushie, and looks at Chuuya with a little frown between his brows.
Right - he’s never seen someone set up a tent before. Maybe it’s a good thing he’s not helping, then. If he was, chances are he would’ve broken something.
As is, it’s quick work to set it up, and then the area for the fire. He gets Dazai to put their sleeping bags (and the Cinnamoroll) into the tent, and then rewards him with a piece of a chocolate bar.
The food he makes is nothing extravagant, but it’s warm and filling, and tastes great after half a day trekking through the forest. And it’s a testament to how tired Dazai must be already, that he eats the thing without complaint. Usually, Chuuya has to bully him into eating.
Chuuya deposits the food containers into a trash bag he has - he’s a responsible camper, he’s not just gonna litter even if this is a forest owned by a shitty cult - and then sits back to relax a little bit. He’s always loved the smell of the trees, especially far away from cities. The only noise around is the hum of leaves, the singing of birds, and the occasional critter.
He’s quite glad for this mission - he hasn’t had the opportunity to go camping or hiking in a while now. Maybe he’d be able to convince Dazai to come along with him sometime, if nothing goes amiss.
“Uh, Chuuya,” Dazai says - too quiet, though; subdued, almost. Chuuya turns to look at him - he doesn’t know when Dazai stood up, but now he’s leaning against a tree, trying to go for nonchalant but failing horribly. He’s bouncing at the balls of his feet, and holding onto his sleeve.
“What’s up?”
He sees Dazai bite his lip, not meeting his eye.
“Is, uh… is there a bathroom here?” He says it so quietly that Chuuya almost doesn’t hear him, but Chuuya catches the words, and promptly snorts.
Dazai’s face colors with a beautiful coral red shade, but Chuuya’s too busy laughing to notice.
“This is a forest,” Chuuya says after a beat, glancing at Dazai - how Dazai can be a prodigy and yet so stupid sometimes is beyond him. “What do you think?”
“Well!” Dazai huffs out, “I mean, camping grounds have those, right?”
“I told you this is a completely off-grid site.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“No bathrooms, sorry,” Chuuya shrugs, still with a smile. “Here,” he digs around his backpack, and then, once he finds them, throws a pack of tissues at Dazai.
Who looks like he’s about to go off to voluntarily get shot in the stomach.
“Stop being a baby. No one will see you here,” Chuuya tells him. “Just don’t go too far, or you’ll get lost. And bring the tissue back.”
“Ew,” Dazai immediately scrunches his face. “That’s gross.”
“So is littering,” Chuuya counters. “Shoo, before you piss yourself.”
Dazai glares at him - as if it’s Chuuya’s fault that no one carved a bathroom into one of those trees - but then he stomps off into the forest. He takes long enough that Chuuya almost goes out to look for him, but he does eventually return, still red faced and frowning.
“Let’s go,” Dazai announces to him immediately. “I wanna walk around the lake.”
“Your feet don’t hurt?” Chuuya asks. “We can go ‘round in the evening instead.”
“No, let’s go now,” Dazai pouts. “Maybe we’ll even see some frogs by the shore! We’ll miss them if it gets any darker.”
Right - Dazai thinks bumping into people will be useful. Gathering information and establishing their cover. Their intel tells them that somewhere here should be a group of cultists living near an old bunker, which supposedly houses the documents they’ve been tasked with stealing.
The body of water isn’t large, so it doesn’t take them too long to cross half of it, which is where they meet their people.
It’s a group of ten, equal mix men and women, most over their 30s, their tents set up in a large spread across a huge clearing.
Chuuya chats them up - they’re a friendly bunch, open to conversation, and Chuuya lets himself be brought into it as he sees Dazai talking to some woman. He sees him acting purposefully nervous, before there’s a subtle hand sign - scouting - and he disappears out of Chuuya’s peripheral together with that lady.
He spends a better part of the hour there, sat by the campfire and talking to these people - they’re not half bad, all things considered. As far as cults go, this one seems pretty tame.
Tame, and tight-lipped. No one says anything about the bunker, not even a peep when Chuuya mentions that this area was apparently occupied by soldiers once upon a time. Hopefully Dazai had better luck - going in blind will be a pain in the ass.
There’s a tap on his shoulder, and when he turns around, he’s met with the sight of Dazai smiling at him shyly - he’s wearing a fucking flower crown. If Chuuya thought Dazai looked like a forest spirit before, now he looks like some forest deity.
“Kana-san had one, so I asked her if she could make me one as well,” he explains, a cute shy smile on his lips. He grabs Chuuya’s hand, a subtle tap of found it, done on the inside of his wrist. “She even taught me how to do it!”
“You look beautiful,” Chuuya tells him - Dazai flushes a little, and Chuuya can’t help but bring his hand up to kiss it. He’s not lying - Dazai is always effortlessly beautiful. Like this, though? Soft looking, without his usual hard edges, and a light in his eyes Chuuya rarely gets to see? He's otherworldly.
“Ah, young love,” one of the women by the campfire sighs, making the other two giggle. “Are you here on a honeymoon, by any chance?”
Now both Chuuya and Dazai flush.
“Oh, no, we’re still in school,” Dazai laughs. “Maybe one day, though! It would be a lovely place to spend it.”
God, Dazai is about to give him a fucking heart attack with such talk.
They depart quickly after that, to walk the rest of the way around the lake, chatting mindlessly about this or that. Dazai likes to get in character, and he makes up the wildest stories about his and Chuuya’s “classmates” just to occupy the time.
He’s dragging his feet, though - his legs must absolutely hurt from all the walking and the new shoes.
The first order of business when they’re back in their camp is Dazai insisting on making s’mores, so that’s what they do. They sit by the fire, where Dazai lets him know in hushed whisper where exactly he needs to go and what he figured out when it comes to the layout of the camp and bunker.
Chuuya awards him an extra s’more - for the hard work, and for all the walking.
Night falls at last, but still, they elect to wait until it’s much later and more people are likely to be asleep. The fire dies down slowly, and eventually, Chuuya tells Dazai to get inside the tent while he extinguishes it completely.
Unusually, Dazai complies - but then, he’s been strangely quiet for a while, now. Chuuya blames it on fatigue, for now.
He makes sure the fire is dead and leaves a small lamp on one of the trees, so he has an easier time making his way back later. With that done, he crawls into the tent to wait out the next few hours.
He brought a book he’s been reading, planning to finish it tonight. Dazai, sitting on top of his own sleeping bag and attached to his new plushie, seems to be doing a crossword.
Except he’s not, Chuuya notices about half an hour later - his pen barely moves, and his posture is unusually stiff. He keeps looking around, too - not obviously, but his eyes are clearly shifting along the walls of the tent, his fingers twitching every now and again.
Chuuya studies him for a good while - he doesn’t even have to pretend to read; Dazai’s too lost in his own head to realize that he’s being stared at.
Dazai looks nervous, and Chuuya can’t crack why. He definitely looks wrong, though, like he’s about to jump out of his skin.
Which does happen when something makes a particularly loud noise outside. Dazai’s head whips in that direction, his whole body tenses, and he clutches the plushie in his arms like letting it go would mean sudden death.
“You’re scared,” Chuuya realizes. “You’re scared of this, why didn’t you tell me?”
Dazai blinks at him, and then immediately glares with a scoff.
“No I’m not,” he hisses. “That’s dumb.”
“You look like you’re about to keel over, dude.”
“Great, then maybe I’ll finally die,” Dazai swiftly replies. “What’s there to be scared of? It’s just the woods!”
Dazai definitely sounds like he’s trying to rationalize this to himself. Chuuya hates logical people sometimes.
“Right. Other than the animals?” Chuuya starts counting off. “Or the strangers that can stumble on you, or the fact we’re sleeping in something you can be stabbed through, or that there’s no windows so you can’t see anything outside and there’s no way to know if anyone’s watching you-”
“Shut the fuck up,” Dazai tries to kick him - Chuuya easily grabs his ankle though, refusing to let go as Dazai struggles. “It’s- I’m not scared.”
“It’s normal to be,” Chuuya shrugs. “You’ve never slept in the woods, right?”
“And you have?”
“I go camping a lot, so yeah. I was scared shitless the first few times, though. The noises were awful.”
Dazai calms at that, a little bit - he still looks like an angry cornered cat, but his hackles aren't quite raised anymore.
“There’s too much noise,” Dazai says cautiously. “It’s not- it’s unnerving.”
“It is,” Chuuya agrees, rubbing Dazai’s ankle, in what he hopes is a soothing manner. “And you don’t know what makes those noises, which I guess you really don’t like cause you like to know everything.”
Dazai doesn’t say anything, but his shoulders minimally relax - at least until the shrubbery somewhere moves again, and he grips his plush hard enough Chuuya worries the fabric will tear.
“C’mere,” Chuuya beckons.
“Huh?”
“You’re so skittish it’s making me nervous. Come on,” Chuuya pats the space next to him.
It takes about five minutes, and another vaguely forest-y noise for Dazai to come crawling, sitting next to Chuuya, stiff and unsure what to do with himself.
“Will it help if you listen to something else?”
Dazai thinks for a bit.
“Maybe, I dunno,” Dazai mumbles. “If it’s loud enough.”
That’s all Chuuya needs - he puts down his book momentarily, and grabs Dazai, who yelps and immediately tries to wiggle away. Tough luck, though - Chuuya manhandles him until he’s sat so he’s between his legs, leaning against Chuuya’s chest.
“Turn your head,” Chuuya says. Dazai glares at him. “Turn your head, don’t be stubborn.”
Dazai grumbles something under his breath - Chuuya thinks he hears stupid and hatrack and violent - but he does as he’s told, awkwardly turning his head to the side. Chuuya pushes at it, gently, until he’s rested it against his chest.
“You can listen to my heartbeat,” he tells him quietly. “That could help, I think.”
Chuuya wouldn’t exactly call his heartbeat reliably steady - not when Dazai’s around, especially not when Dazai’s in his arms like that, but he’ll just blame it on the book if Dazai asks.
Dazai doesn’t ask - he sits there, awkward and nervous and stiff for a long time. He relaxes in waves, it seems - like the ocean, pulling and pushing. He’ll be a little calmer, hear a noise, and tense again, but come back to himself quicker this time.
Chuuya doesn’t know how long they sit there, but it’s long enough that Dazai almost dozes off when he budges him.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he tells him. “I promise nothing will eat you in the meantime.”
“Ha ha,” Dazai rolls his eyes. He’s tense as all hell once again, but there’s nothing Chuuya can do about it. The trip would take far too long on foot, so taking Dazai with him is out of the question. He feels uneasy, leaving him like this when he's clearly scared.
He just vowes to make it quick.
Dazai let him know precisely where the bunker is, and Chuuya’s ability makes it perfect to quickly and quietly sneak in, take what they need, and leave. He waits above the trees until the people patrolling the camp leave the site of the bunker, and it’s no more than five minutes when he’s out again with the papers.
He left the place in a mess, so chances are that someone notices something’s missing, but Chuuya decides they'll just deal with that if it happens. He’d rather not leave Dazai alone for longer than necessary.
He leaves the stack of papers in an area Dazai chose to store them beforehand, and then hops along the trees until he’s back at the camp.
Dazai is exactly where he’d left him - on Chuuya’s sleeping bag, his head pressed between his knees like he’s trying to cover his ears and rid himself of the noise. He looks small like this. Young, too. Like he's just a kid.
Sometimes Chuuya forgets that that's what they still are. Kids.
“No bears while I was gone?” Chuuya jokes.
Dazai throws Cinnamoroll at him.
They get ready to go to sleep shortly after, although Chuuya doesn’t think Dazai will be able to. Still, they find themselves just as they were before, though this time lying down. Dazai’s head rests against Chuuya’s heart, and Chuuya idly runs his hands through his hair until he’s too tired, and he falls asleep despite trying his best not to.
ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ
He doesn’t know how long he sleeps, but it’s definitely not long, with how exhausted he still is when something startles him awake. Years of practice have him stay still while he orients himself, cataloging his surroundings. He doesn't have to search much - Dazai is trembling next to him - hard enough that it would be impossible to miss it.
Chuuya grabs at his hand blindly, and taps out what’s wrong?
Loud is what Dazai replies. More noise. Different.
That could be an animal, or just the wind. Or Dazai's paranoid mind making things up. But it could also be their friends from the cult - so Chuuya tells Dazai to wait, and strains his ear, lying in silence for a long time, rubbing a hand across Dazai's back in hopes the tremors will stop coursing through him.
Watched, Chuuya taps out at last. Surrounded follows, once he’s sure that there’s people around them from at least three sides.
Dazai takes a second to think, before he quietly throws off his blanket, does the same to Chuuya, and scoots up so Chuuya has access to his neck.
Romeo and Cinderella, Dazai taps out, leaning his head back to give Chuuya room.
He supresses a groan. Chuuya fucking hates Romeo and Cinderella. It’s a stupid fucking strategy with an even stupider name.
Still, if they’re to keep their cover and hopefully leave without a fuss, they have to look like they were otherwise occupied the whole night. So Chuuya reluctantly presses his lips to Dazai’s neck, bites down, and then sucks a little mark on there.
He repeats it twice more on this side, then once on another, before Dazai does the same thing to him - only twice on one side, though. He’s never been a fan of leaving the marks, for some reason - he told Chuuya once he has delicate teeth, whatever the fuck that means.
They mess up their hair, and Chuuya slides out of his clothes, save for his boxers. Dazai takes off his pants, and unbuttons his sleep shirt so it hangs loose.
With the prepwork done, Chuuya makes sure to stay still, and Dazai starts crawling out of the tent. Chuuya waits - until the flap is unzipped, and Dazai is almost out, before he groans.
“‘Samu?” At least he doesn’t have to fake what his voice sounds like when he’d just woken up. Doing it on command is always weird, and it never sounds right.
“Go back to sleep,” Dazai tells him. “I’ll be right back.”
“‘kay.”
Dazai shuffles a little bit, and then he’s out. He leaves the tent open, so Chuuya hears his careful footsteps fading away as he leaves.
Chuuya carefully listens, in the meantime - the stillness of the forest around them means the watchers are still surrounding them.
It’s a little creepy, to be honest, and he’s not surprised that Dazai’s scared. Sure, Chuuya’s used to the weird sounds of the forest, but the ambiance of nature or the occasional sound of an animal is completely different than someone watching your every move.
He gives it ten minutes, before he starts to crawl out as well. They usually do fifteen, but he doesn’t like the idea of Dazai sitting alone in the woods for so long as some weirdos watch him.
The air is pleasantly warm as he stumbles out, in the way summer nights tend to feel. Not too suffocating, and refreshing.
“‘Samu?” Chuuya calls out, tentatively, looking around. “Babe?”
He can’t see shit. The moonlight barely peaks through the trees, giving him little to no light to work with. Romeo and Cinderella is something they’ve only ever used inside, when a light coming from somewhere usually gave Chuuya a clue as to where the fuck Dazai skittered off to. In this particular case, he could be absolutely anywhere, and Chuuya would be none the wiser. He’s got higher chances to stumble on a damn cultist.
He hears, then - a little splash. Barely anything, but it’s enough.
It’s clearer by the lake - still dark, but the moonlight reflects off of the water and illuminates the surrounding at least a bit.
Dazai’s sitting there on the ground, feet in the water, splashing around. His head whips around when he hears Chuuya approaching.
He’s crying, and even so, he looks like a marvel right here in the night, clad in nothing but a flimsy flannel slipping off his shoulder and a pair of boyshorts.
Dazai doesn’t give him enough time to stare more - as soon as he sees it’s Chuuya, he turns back around, sniffling.
“Hey,” Chuuya lets his tone go soft, carefully walking up to him. “Hey, what’s wrong?”’
“N’thing,” Dazai mewls pathetically. He sniffles, and reaches a hand to wipe at his face when Chuuya sits next to him and wraps his arms around him.
Chuuya grabs his hand - both to stop Dazai from irritating his face by wiping his eyes with the rough material, and to tap still there.
“It’s something, if you’re crying.”
“‘s stupid.”
“It’s not,” Chuuya whispers, kissing the side of Dazai’s head. “Nothing that makes you cry is stupid, I promise.”
Dazai shivers in his grasp, and then turns around - he sits himself sideways in Chuuya’s lap, bringing his arms around Chuuya’s shoulders. Chuuya supports his waist, and asks visual?
Yes, Dazai replies with a finger on his neck. Two.
There were at least three with them earlier - whoever isn’t watching them is probably looking for the records they stole in their tent. They need to give them enough time to see that they’re innocent, but not enough so they can scram.
“C’mon,” Chuuya nudges. “Did you not like it earlier?” he jokes.
Dazai snorts a little into his shoulder, and Chuuya smiles - Dazai can’t see it, so he’s allowed.
“‘m just… I wish we could be like this,” Dazai says quietly. “Without having to do this every time.”
That’s… not something Dazai usually says, when they play this out. He complains about his best friend hating him, or about his dad being overbearing, or fears of the future. Regular high schooler stuff. Stuff he'd briefed Chuuya on beforehand. The improv seems weird for him.
“Having to sneak around and… and pretend,” Dazai continues, and- oh. Oh. “I want you all the time, so much it hurts, and this is the only way I can have you.”
“You can have me all the time,” Chuuya assures, squeezing Dazai tighter. “I swear.”
“My father-”
“He doesn’t dictate how we feel,” Chuuya insists. “Okay? He can say what he wants, but… I like you, and he can’t do shit about that.”
Dazai leans away from his shoulder, and they’re eye to eye. There’s trepidation in Dazai’s features - like he’s not sure if Chuuya’s following along with what he’s doing.
“Trust me,” Chuuya whispers to him, urging him closer so their foreheads touch. “We can talk about this more when we get back home, but this? This doesn’t have to be like before anymore, if it bothers you so much.”
“You sure?” Dazai asks, small and gripping Chuuya’s shoulders so hard he might have marks in the shape of his nails - not that he cares.
“‘course,” he smiles - and Dazai smiles back, a small and happy smile, dimples poking out on his cheeks, something Chuuya sees so rarely that he can’t help but pull Dazai close into another embrace.
Sorry, go, Dazai taps out barely a beat later.
Right. They’re here to actually do something.
“Let’s go back, c’mon. You'll catch a cold,” Chuuya urges - Dazai stands up, and he follows right after, taking Dazai’s hand into his as soon as he’s up. He's held Dazai's hand tens of times by now, but now, real for the first time, it's unlike anything else. He has to bite the inside of his cheek so he doesn't smile like an idiot.
They walk back silently, carefully - their camp is close, though, and Dazai’s timing is impeccable as always - merely a few meters away, they bump into a figure, and a flashlight shines on them.
Dazai jumps and grabs Chuuya’s arm, and Chuuya stumbles back a step.
“What are you doing here?” he says immediately, going for defensive, stepping between Dazai and the cultist.
“Oh, sorry!” the person says - Chuuya recognizes him as someone from the group around the bunker, as expected. “I was patrolling around, just to make sure everything is okay, and I noticed the tent was open with no one inside. I wanted to make sure you, uh, were… good,” the man finishes, faltering as he takes them in.
With the spotlight - literally and figuratively - on them, they both falter, making sure to show embarrasment. Dazai brings the edges of his shirt together, holding it closed, and Chuuya crosses his arms on his chest, clearing his throat.
“Right. We’re okay, we just…,” Chuuya drifts off, unsure what to say.
“I got a little scared of the noises,” Dazai admits sheepishly. “I wanted to sit somewhere I could see the moon. But thank you.”
“No problem. Just… take a light with you next time, yeah? You kids could’ve gotten lost.”
They thank the man again, and then hurry to their tent while he leaves through the shrubbery. The second they’re inside and the flap is zipped, Dazai flops down and lets out an exaggerated groan.
“Oh my God that was so embarrassing,” he whines.
“‘s not that bad.”
“Do you realize what state we’re in?” Dazai hisses. He looks at Chuuya and he’s smiling brightly, though. “He absolutely knew what we were doing!”
“And what?” Chuuya shrugs. He sits right next to Dazai, reaching a hand to run his fingers through his hair. “Having sex isn’t a crime. And it’s not like we were naked. ”
Dazai snickers under his breath, before he continues the charade:
“No, but- it’s- ugh. I hate you.”
Chuuya laughs out loud then.
“You’re too easily flustered,” Chuuya tells him, scratching at his head a little. By the blissed out expression on his face, Chuuya guesses he likes that.
They stay like this for a little bit, both listening in.
Gone, Chuuya taps against Dazai’s head. Dazai nods, but neither of them acknowledges it out loud.
“Scoot up,” Chuuya says then.
“Huh?”
“It’s late, we’re going to sleep,” Chuuya explains. “I know you were awake the whole time before. Move.”
Dazai does so, and Chuuya crawls into his sleeping bag, and turns off the lamp.
“Chuuya,” Dazai says hesitantly. He doesn’t know if Dazai’s so stiff because of the contact or being scared, but he's unmoving by his side, breathing so carefully that Chuuya's sure he's coaxing himself through it.
“Relax,” he replies. He reaches for Dazai and brings him closer. “How do you like to sleep? On your back or side or what?”
“On my stomach, or side,” Dazai mumbles.
“Perfect,” Chuuya announces. He lies on his back - which is how he sleeps - and gathers Dazai so he’s laid on his chest, under his arm, once again letting him listen to his heart.
Dazai lies there for a second, two, before he melts into Chuuya like liquid chocolate, snuggling into his chest, bringing an arm to rest next to his head and hitching up one of his legs around Chuuya’s hips. They’re attached pretty much almost everywhere this way.
Chuuya feels shy fingers tap on his collarbone, in Morse as opposed to their own code.
Love you.
He hides his smile in Dazai’s hair, but he’s sure the thumping of his heart gives him away anyway. Then taps back the exact same thing against Dazai’s hip.
Love you.
They have a lot to talk about when they’re back in Yokohama, but that night is probably the best sleep Chuuya gets in his life.
And when he gets to wake up in the morning to Dazai sprawled half across him, drooling on his shoulder and mumbling in his sleep, all the thinks is that he could really get used to this.