“Is this a joke?” Chuuya spat, unable to censor himself any longer. Immediately he regretted speaking out of turn to his boss in such a manner; thankfully Mori only seemed amused by his subordinate’s question, a cat-like smile spreading over his face from the other side of his ornate desk.
“I assure you it’s no joke,” he admitted, gloved fingers lacing together atop the wood surface, “It’s not exactly an offensive move on our part, but I can’t send our best strategist in there without sufficient backup; you will make sure Dazai is able to infiltrate the compound and gather whatever data might be available without being caught or injured.”
Chuuya sat back in his chair next to the strategist in question on the opposite side of the desk from Mori, incredulity still warping his face, “And that involves me wearing a dress and pretending to be a couple with-” he’d wanted to say something rude, but pulled back at the last second, “-with Dazai?”
“Yes, that’s exactly the plan,” Mori rested his chin atop his interlocked hands, a mirthful look on his face.
Chuuya glanced in Dazai’s direction from the corner of his eye, hoping to receive some kind of support on why this was a historically bad plan; the brunette remained stoic, arms crossed in a meditative state. Perfect, he thought, gritting his teeth. A lot of help he was.
Mori moved on with the briefing, paying Chuuya’s discomfort no mind, “A soiree is being held in a week’s time at the group’s main holdings, like I said this isn’t an attack, purely an information gathering mission.”
“And you think they’re dumb enough to keep sensitive intel in the same place they’re opening to civilians?” Dazai finally spoke up, lifting an eye in Mori’s direction.
“We’re not exactly dealing with experienced smugglers here,” Mori smirked, “Their benefactor is a politician who’s let his taste for extravagance get the better of him and his operations out of hand. They haven’t been in the game long enough to make smart moves and they believe that the Port Mafia won’t strike back.”
Several shipments meant for Port Mafia had been intercepted and moved recently, the locations of which still remained a mystery. Operatives had been unable to detect their placement thanks to the politician’s power to move hired guns quicker and more efficiently, partly with the help of corrupt police officers. Mori wanted everything recovered before they made a decisive move against the group, not wanting to incur any losses from a financial standpoint. If his calculations were correct (and really, when weren’t they?) they were young, dumb, and believed themselves untouchable enough with their powerful friend’s support to make more than a few mistakes. As they had yet to drop the ball in the field, Mori felt infiltrating their base of operations to be the best course of action.
“Ok, understood,” Chuuya butted into the discussion with a dramatic wave of a hand, “But why have me pretend to be a girl!?” he asked desperately.
Mori leaned back in his chair, flipping open a file on his desk, “We’ve had someone working within the government monitoring the situation. His mission was to recover the guest list belonging to the politician and pinpoint someone distant enough in connections that we could slide in an imposter without detection.”
Next he pushed a photo forward for both men to see; a tall, good looking young man with straight white teeth and parted brown hair stood grinning at the camera, arm around a beautiful young woman with strawberry blonde locks. Chuuya’s jaw dropped.
“I don’t look anything like her!” he exclaimed, eyes frantically wide, pointing down at the picture, “We don't even have the same shade of hair!”
“It doesn’t matter, the newly wedded Mr. and Mrs. Hayashi aren’t directly known to any of the group. He’s the son of a fellow government worker who’s spent most of his education out of the country.”
“And what’s going to happen to Mr. and Mrs. Hayashi?” Dazai asked, voice low with implication.
“Oh, nothing so dire,” Mori chuckled, waving a hand, “They’ll simply experience some problems checking out of their hotel in Paris on the final day of their Honeymoon, missing their flight back, and missing the party in turn. By the time they arrive back in Japan, the whole thing will have blown over.”
“And our guy on the inside couldn’t find someone...a little less female for me to impersonate?”
“Kouyou assured me that all would be taken care of when I mentioned it to her,” Mori shrugged, as if it were an unimportant detail. Chuuya’s shoulders slumped; leave it to Kouyou to seal his fate, that damn woman had been pining for a chance to dress him up like a doll since he was nine. At least someone would be happy.
“You’ll both receive floor plans of the compound as well as a briefing on a few key people of interest so you’ll know who to keep an eye on. That should be all for now…” Mori announced; Dazai and Chuuya took it as their cue to stand, moving to vacate the man’s office.
“Oh, and boys?”
Almost to the door, they both turned to glance back at their boss.
“Try not to have too much fun,” he smiled, a sharp glint in his dark eyes.
“This is ridiculous…” Chuuya hissed, the moment they were a few feet outside Mori’s office and well out of earshot. He had half a mind to hunt Kouyou down and give her a piece of his mind for her role in this, since he was unable to take it out on Mori himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t think himself capable of pulling it off, but just the fact that they’d even considered it or thought that Chuuya would play along without his input was insulting.
“What’s wrong shrimp, not confident in your espionage abilities?” Dazai teased, keeping pace with the redhead. Chuuya’s teeth clenched in response.
“Like you could ever pull something so difficult off, social misfit,” Chuuya spat back, “And thanks for having my back in there, you couldn’t say anything to convince him this was a stupid idea?”
“And miss my chance to see Chuuya embarrass himself in drag? Absolutely not!” Dazai exclaimed in mock horror, bandaged hand against his heart.
Chuuya made an annoyed sound, coming to a stop at the top of the stairs, leaning against the wall there in contemplation; He had half a mind to work out a strategy to get Mori to change his mind, but he knew his insubordination wouldn’t be taken well. In all honesty, Chuuya was the perfect choice for something like this, he was a skilled enough actor and excelled at deception. That, and the fact that he could actually keep Dazai out of danger long enough for them to get in and out, he couldn’t deny that it wasn’t a bad idea on paper. Still…
“They couldn’t have...I don’t know...made us someone with the government and his assistant? Guest and driver? Brothers?” he suggested, hands up and out as if presenting far more logical ideas. Dazai joined him at the corner of the stairs, leaning into Chuuya’s space with an arm against the wall above him.
“You’re running your mouth at having to play a girl, but I haven’t heard any complains about you pretending to be married to me yet,” he pointed out, a lopsided grin on his face. Chuuya tried to keep his eyes averted, adopting an annoyed expression and fighting the heat rising in his cheeks.
His relationship with Dazai had taken an unexpected turn as of late, one he was still trying to wrap his brain around; a few months ago they’d gotten irresponsibly drunk and ended up defiling a bar storage room together at a club. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it had been a one-time thing, but then it had turned into twice more at his place afterwards, then once in the shower the next morning, and then again on the floor before lunch. And then about twice a week on average ever since then, depending on how busy and/or sexually frustrated they were at the time. Dazai liked to refer to their little arrangement as “Frenimies with benefits.” Chuuya called it “A big fucking mistake I keep making regularly.”
“What’s the cliche, get married and never touch each other again?” Chuuya muttered, rolling his eyes at his partner.
“Yeah, you’d last three days,” Dazai teased, still wearing that infuriating smile.
“And you’d last two, what’s your point.”
“It’s ok hat rack, i’d be nervous too if I knew i’d make an ugly girl.”
Chuuya reached up to grab a loose piece of bandage from Dazai’s throat, yanking it down to his level, “Why don’t you do everyone a favor; complete the mummification process and die.” he growled. Dazai only grinned back in response.
Releasing the obnoxious man Chuuya stood up straight, moving from the wall and descending the stairs two at a time; he’d already been annoyed, but being around Dazai right now only exacerbated it. He was going to go for a drink, maybe listen to some music or take a shower, something relaxing, and then turn in early for the night. After he left Kouyou an angry voicemail, that was.
“Is that any way to talk to your husband?” Dazai called after him. Chuuya rewarded him with a middle finger, not bothering to glance back, but he heard the man’s subdued chuckle all the same.
Chuuya spent the rest of the week doing his damndest to forget what would be required of him at the end of it, instead pouring over the intel he was given on the compound and it’s possible occupants. Kouyou (who had smiled demurely through the mini-tantrum he’d thrown over the whole affair the day after the first briefing) had put him on a strict hair and skin care regimen that Chuuya had balked at immediately, he’d always taken meticulous care of both. Kouyou could be scary when she wanted something however, and Chuuya had grudgingly applied all the creams and exfoliants she’d dumped off on him each night as she’d instructed. The day of the party, she’d awoken him early and forced him into the bath with enough razors and shaving cream for what seemed like half of Yokohama, repeatedly asking if he needed help or knew what he was doing until he’d slammed the bathroom door shut in her face.
Once devoid of body hair, Kouyou had taken over; she’d enlisted the help of a few women in her care and together they’d polished and painted nails, plucked at eyebrows, combed and brushed hair until it shone like silk. Chuuya had the benefit of a heart-shaped face, small features and long lashes, but that coupled with smokey eyes and crimson lips pulled the whole illusion off spectacularly, there was no way anyone would suspect him of being anything but female.
“Chuuya darling, please hold still,” Kouyou sighed, brandishing an eyeliner pencil in one hand while she kept the younger man’s face still with the other.
“Then don’t stick that thing in my eye,” he grumbled, leaning back in his chair while another woman worked on pinning his hair to the opposite side than he usually wore it to conceal its uneven nature, a pretty comb with black diamonds holding some of it to create a soft tumble of curls over his shoulder.
“Nothing’s going in your eye, now hold still,” she murmured, finishing the outside corner with a flourish.
When Kouyou was sufficiently pleased with the makeup job, she dismissed her assistants to help Chuuya into the dress she’d selected.
“Are you serious?” Chuuya asked, eyeing the hanger in the woman’s hands, “Don’t you think it’s a little...flashy?”
“What do you mean?” she smiled, “This is a hand-sewn couture gown sweetheart, you don’t get any better than this. And you of all people have no reason to complain about things being “flashy,” she teased.
It was beautiful, but eye-catching all the same; gold, hand-sewn sequins littered the entire surface of the clingy ombre fabric, form fitting but for the mermaid style train that flared around the knees to pool at his heels. The thick straps sat just off his shoulders against the tops of his arms, while the fabric between draped across the top of his chest, hiding the fact that he was missing the necessary curves there. A slit ran the entire length of the skirt, ending at his upper thigh for a flash of shapely leg. Kouyou finished the look with a thick choker comprised of black diamonds to concealed his adam’s apple, as well as matching drop earrings and long opera length black gloves. Strappy black heels completed the outfit.
“Lovely, but we’re missing something…” Kouyou mused, cradling her chin in contemplation. Chuuya stood front and center, feeling a little more than uncomfortable in the form-fitting dress and heels, catching glimpses of himself in the mirror behind the woman; he felt like he was looking at a stranger. A beautiful stranger.
“Ahh, i’ve got it!” she finally announced, disappearing into her own closet for a moment; out came a beautiful white fur wrap that she settled across his back and arms, pulling it together at his chest. Kouyou beamed at him when she was finally done, looking like a proud mother on her child’s wedding day.
“You really should have kids,” Chuuya muttered, on their way out to meet Dazai; Kouyou laughed softy.
“After watching you and Dazai grow up? I think i’ll pass,” she smiled as they reached the staircase to the main floor of the Port Mafia compound; the sun was setting, illuminating the wide cavernous hall with reds and pinks and golds. Kouyou hung back when she spotted the figures at the bottom of the stairs, allowing her young protege to descend on his own for maximum effect; Chuuya hesitated for a moment, seeing Dazai talking to Mori at the bottom, his back to the stairs. He reached out for the bannister, clutching the wrap to his chest.
Half way down and Mori’s eyes flickered up to him for a split second, then back again as if realizing what he was seeing, his eyebrows lifting a touch in surprise, smile widening. Dazai caught his reaction and turned, coming face to face with Chuuya for the first time since his transformation.
There was very little in the world worth being put through this, Chuuya had decided, but seeing Dazai Osamu’s face go completely blank, brown eyes widening in awe, mouth dropping open a bit in subdued surprise was definitely acceptable.
Self esteem newly restored, Chuuya finally reached the last step, standing before his would-be husband expectantly, “What’s wrong? Never seen a boy in a dress before?” he cracked.
Dazai’s eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger but with an amusement that clearly telegraphed that he couldn’t say what he really wanted to in front of Mori like this, “Passable,” he smirked with a shrug, as if it was no big deal. Chuuya rolled his eyes and stepped down to join his partner, Mori moving to stand before the both of them.
“Dazai, you’ll be wearing an earpiece to communicate with base should you require assistance at any time,” he announced, handing off the tiny piece to the man, who slipped it into his right ear easily, “Chuuya, you’ll take this,” Mori commanded, handing off a nondescript looking black clutch to him.
“Inside is a transmitter in case you’re compromised for any reason, so we can locate you right away. We’ll have teams on standby should that happen, or for as soon as the locations for the shipments are identified.”
“What happens if we’re caught after they move to secure the shipments?” Dazai asked with a bemused smile, already knowing the answer.
Mori smiled back, “Don’t get caught.”
They’d been supplied with a driver and expensive looking car that couldn’t be traced back to Port Mafia, long and black, polished to perfection with a spacious interior. Chuuya kept to his side of the backseat, well out of Dazai’s space and turned away at the window; he had to admit, he wasn’t the only one who’d cleaned up nicely, and he was trying to avoid dwelling on it now. Dazai had been outfitted in a crisp all-black suit, tailored expertly with a deep grey dress shirt and matching silk black tie. All of his accents were gold to match Chuuya’s dress, from his cufflinks and tie clip to the tiny tasteful wallet chain that disappeared into his pants pocket. Mori had given him an expensive looking wristwatch to match, and everything was finished off with shiny black square-toed dress shoes. He’d even taken time to run some product through his usually unruly mop of brown hair, and cologne as well, although Chuuya hadn’t even noticed until they’d climbed into the back of the car. He wasn’t even wearing bandages, come to think of it. The man in question had remained silent from the moment they’d taken off, but Chuuya could feel his eyes on him he suddenly realized; he turned to see what he was up to now.
Dazai wore an intense expression as if trying to puzzle something out, gazing in Chuuya’s direction. The redhead stared back quizzically, waiting for him to explain himself until he finally gave up with a sigh, “What do you want, shitty Dazai?”
“Silk,” was his one word answer, rubbing at his chin in contemplation.
“What?” Chuuya asked, a single delicate eyebrow arched in genuine confusion.
“No...lace?” he tried again, eyes narrowed.
“What the fuck are you talking about!?” Chuuya growled in frustration.
“I’m trying to guess what kind of panties you have on under that dress, ” Dazai finally admitted, a hint of a smile on his lips, “Did I get it?”
Chuuya’s eyes widened, jaw dropping a little before he pulled it all back together, rage splitting his face, “Fuck off pervert, how is that any of your business?” he spat, turning back to the window.
“Chuuuuuya~” he called sweetly, sliding over towards his side of the backseat, “How is it not my business?” he asked, sneaking a hand over his thigh, fingertips disappearing under the edge of the high slit in Chuuya’s dress. The smaller man made a scandalized noise, jumping slightly before batting the other’s hand away.
“Get off of me asshole, you wanna ruin all of mine and Kouyou’s hard work?”
“Ahh I guess you’re right...wouldn’t want you to give yourself away by popping a boner before the party…” Dazai sighed, slouching in his seat in defeat. They were nearing their destination; the city lights had given way to sparsely populated homes and mansions, dotting the edge of the coast. Chuuya’s stomach twisted a little, nerves making themselves known now that they were so close to the main event and the acting job of his life. Dazai fiddled around in his pocket for something as they pulled into the long drive up to the compound, other cars lined up in front of them to conduct their own drop-offs of guests.
“Here, Mori made sure to give these to me before we left...he said it was important for keeping up appearances,” Dazai announced suddenly, something small in his right hand that Chuuya couldn’t make out in the dark. Dazai reached across his lap to seize his left hand, lifting it gently before bringing it over within his line of sight; Chuuya could feel something press to his ring finger, sliding on effortlessly to settle against the base. Even in the scattered moonlight he could see the large diamond against the black of his glove, glittering softly in it’s platinum setting. His stomach flipped at the sight.
“We’re married,” Dazai’s lips turned up into a soft grin, sliding a matching platinum band onto his own ring finger, “Remember?”
Chuuya sat in stunned silence for a few seconds, staring back at his partner, unable to reign in the up-tempo pounding of his heart. Dazai gazed back, smile a little more subdued than what he was used to, the lights from outside playing off his brown eyes to bring out the soft gold tones there. This was a ruse, this was apart of the deception. So why did it feel like something more in that moment?
“We’re here,” Dazai finally broke the spell, glancing over Chuuya’s shoulder at the building that had just come into view; the front was lit up extravagantly, with several guests and what seemed to be security personnel milling around outside. Chuuya swallowed down his nerves as the driver opened the car door for Dazai, who in turn walked around the back to open Chuuya’s, offering him a hand to draw him out. Once outside the car, he volunteered his arm to Chuuya, who took it less than enthusiastically.
“Yes, you’re a great actor,” Dazai teased as they approached the entrance.
“Shut up and let me have these last few seconds before I spend the rest of the night pretending to love you,” Chuuya responded through his teeth.
“You mean you’ve been faking it this whole time?” Dazai shot back.
Chuuya glanced up at him incredulously, about to sass back but they were in earshot of others now, and they were supposed to be playing the role of the happy young newlyweds. Instead, Chuuya pulled Dazai closer, painted lips quirking into an attractive little smile as he leaned up towards the other man’s ear.
“Enjoy tonight, because i’m going to murder you after,” he promised softly, looking every bit the beautiful young wife, to everyone but his supposed husband.
It was easy enough to make small talk with the strangers they ran into, most were only interested in Dazai’s supposed father or his schooling in England, for which the mafia executive had cooked up an elaborate and thoroughly researched story to counter. Men and women alike were quick to comment on Chuuya’s beauty and dress, or ask for details on their wedding and honeymoon. Chuuya took a backseat to Dazai on this as well, since the man had a talent for lying through his teeth.
“Did you have to tell them I cried the entire ceremony?” Chuuya muttered, as they walked away from an elderly couple who had held their attention for the past several minutes.
“If you’re not going to do the grunt work then you don’t get to choose the specifics,” Dazai admonished him, looking smug as he led his partner away from refreshment area.
“Yeah, well choose some specifics that make me look like less than a whimp.”
“I call them like a see them.”
Chuuya “accidently” stepped on Dazai’s foot, placing his weight on his heel, “Oops, sorry darling.”
Dazai’s smile smothered the grimace of pain trying to work it’s way onto his face, “You’re delightful,” he grunted.
A wide expanse of marble floor awaited them, occupied by several dancing couples. A band of string and horn players set up in the corner had begun to play a lively tune; Dazai’s gaze swept the room before he reached for Chuuya’s hand dragging him in the floor’s direction.
“What are you doing?” Chuuya whispered frantically, once he realized where they were headed.
“We’re the only couple not dancing, don’t you think that would look weird to our host?” He asked, pulling the redhead around so that he could lift their clasped hands and grasp his partner’s waist. Chuuya glowered up at the taller man, hand landing on his shoulder hesitantly. Dazai took off immediately, leading them in a waltz that was surprisingly good for a mafia executive who was more familiar with bloodshed than dancing. Chuuya allowed himself to be guided, dress flowing around his feet gently so that it almost appeared as if he walked on air. He could hear a congregation of older women behind him murmur appreciatively, either at his dress or at how attractive a couple they made. He couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride at the attention, moving his hand higher on Dazai’s shoulder to bring himself closer to the other man. Dazai’s own hand had begun to slip slightly, dipping from it’s place at Chuuya’s hip, fingertips ghosting a little lower mischievously.
“Hands stay above the waist or I drown you in the punch bowl,” Chuuya snapped, correcting the other man’s hand.
“You’re so cruel, Chuuya, how can you expect me to keep my hands to myself while you’re in that dress?” Dazai responded, dipping his head closer to the other’s ear teasingly. Annoyed expression in place, Chuuya tried to ignore Dazai, even if he could feel the heat high in his cheeks.
“How do you know how to dance like this? You haven’t even stepped on my toes yet, i’m shocked,” he shifted the discussion elsewhere, ignoring how closely pressed their bodies were now.
“I was partially raised by Kouyou as well, you don’t think she saw fit to give me a lesson or two?”
“What good’s dancing to a murderous mob executive?” Chuuya laughed as they spun closer to the opposite edge of the floor.
“Coming in handy right now, don’t you think?” Dazai smiled, although his eyes were elsewhere. Chuuya could sense something was amiss by the way Dazai held himself, “Those security guys have been looking at us for the past 40 seconds,” he spoke lower this time, pretending to nose at Chuuya’s ear affectionately. Chuuya leaned into it, playing along.
“Did you see them on the way in at all?” the shorter man asked, keeping his cheek close to Dazai’s own; from just a few feet away they’d look like any other couple getting cozy on the dance floor.
“No, and I don’t recognize them from the intel packet either. More than likely hired guns made to run security detail, but I don’t like how they’re keeping an eye on us,” Dazai turned so that he could see Chuuya’s face clearly, pressing their foreheads together; Chuuya knew it was still apart of the act but it still sent his heart stuttering, “You think you can take them?”
Chuuya’s lips lifted in a smile that communicated what a dumb question that was, “Spin me on the next pass, I want to get a look at them,” he muttered back. They waited a few seconds, making sure they were clear before Dazai pulled away, releasing one of Chuuya’s hands to that he could twirl his date around. Chuuya’s eyes cut sideways for only a precious second, immediately locking on the two stocky men standing near one of the exits; they were indeed making a show of not watching them, but their posture was clear. Still, Chuuya had dealt with worse in the past.
“Should be easy if they give us trouble. Are they going to give us trouble?” he asked once safely back in Dazai’s arms, implying that the mission would depend on Dazai’s ability to not get caught.
“We sure will find out, huh?” he teased, teeth showing in a flash of a grin as the music began to die away at the end of the song. People around them began to clap, and deciding that they’d wasted enough time, Dazai led them back off the dance floor. Someone was already waiting for them.
He was somewhere around fifty, hair more grey and white than black, a tasteful goatee on his sun-weathered face. He had the air of a man of wealth and influence; they both knew it was their host from the information they’d received, but played along with his introduction.
“I’m told that you’re our newlyweds, congratulations,” he started, offering a hand to Dazai, “Daisuke Arakawa, although you probably already knew that,” the politician chuckled.
“Apologies that father couldn’t attend, but it is nice to finally meet you,” Dazai replied evenly, accepting the handshake, “And thank you for the invitation, we’re having a lovely time.”
“Not as lovely as your new wife, surely,” the older man smiled, fixing dark eyes on Chuuya; the redhead could feel the hand at his back tighten instinctively; he wished he could chastise Dazai for being a possessive asshole, especially when Chuuya could hold his own.
“Thank you, you’re too kind,” Chuuya smiled demurely, lashes fluttering. Maybe if he could keep this geezer’s attention on himself, it would give Dazai the chance to sneak around.
“I’m wondering, would it be too much trouble if I bothered you for a dance my dear? This old man hasn’t cut loose in so long, and I might as well ask the most beautiful woman here,” he smiled, worrying at the hair on his chin. Chuuya glanced at Dazai; his eyes looked hard but he made no move to refuse on his partner’s behalf.
“I’d love to...darling,” Chuuya turned to address Dazai, “weren’t you saying you needed to make a call anyway?”
“Yes,” Dazai’s stoney face shifted into a subdued smile, “then i’ll leave you two to yourselves. I only ask that you break it to me gently when you steal my wife away,” he joked, fingertips dancing over the curve of Chuuya’s back before sliding away completely.
The older man laughed, offering out a hand to Chuuya, “Perhaps if I were twenty years younger you’d have reason to worry, but you’re safe now,” he assured Dazai with a wink. He led Chuuya out towards the dance floor; the redhead spared a glance back in Dazai’s direction, the taller man watching after them, calculating brown eyes glued to their retreating forms. He hoped that for the mission’s sake that he could stop being a weirdo and get on with it while Chuuya put up with their host.
It wasn’t hard to slip away from the party and into the off limits areas of the upper floors. Most of the compound still remained a residential space, with large ostentatious bedrooms and parlours. One wing caught Dazai’s interest however; it looked like it had been converted into a series of offices, all outfitted with top of the line electronics. Sneaking among the tables and stations he began leafing through any documents he found; there was nothing of the previous shipments, but a filing cabinet in the corner yielded a schedule of future shipments meant for Port Mafia, as well as a detailed list of it’s contents. Snapping a quick picture that he sent off to their recon team, Dazai continued his search.
The third office he checked was more sparse than the others, containing only a single handsomely furnished workstation. It had to belong to their politician friend he decided, sinking down to round the desk and begin his investigation. The computer was switched off and would probably attract too much attention to boot up. He slid the desk drawers open, flipping through business contracts, proposals, account information. Dazai took pictures of it all; even if this mission turned out to be a dud, he could at least provide Mori with something to use in the future.
It was somewhere in a file containing purchase documents that he found it; a receipt of some kind, from a local storage facility. Printed in black and white, a number of storage containers had been purchased in advance, their location and numbers also listed. Dazai’s smile stretched across his lips, quickly sending the information off to the appropriate people; they would move on them long before him and Chuuya left for the night, meaning all he had to do now was rescue the other man from the old bastard downstairs and make off with him before they were any the wiser. Stowing his phone away, the mafia executive put his hands in his pockets, strolling out of the office…
...and into three security operatives, all with guns trained on him.
“...Well, that wasn’t a bathroom,” Dazai laughed unconvincingly, playing the part of lost party guest.
No one was convinced, to say the least.
Chuuya allowed himself to be guided by the older man on the dance floor, making small talk and laughing at all of his stale jokes. Surely Dazai must have been making progress; he’d kept an eye out since they’d begun their dance, taking his reappearance as a sign that things had gone well. It had been nearly twenty minutes since then, and Chuuya was beginning to grow impatient.
“You said that you’d been in Paris for your honeymoon?” the politician asked, drawing Chuuya’s attention back to him.
“Oh yes, we had a wonderful time,” he lied, smiling brightly, “my husband’s been a half dozen times, but it was my first.”
“That’s interesting…” his dance partner mused, his own smile widening, “you didn’t have any trouble with your flight back?”
Something about his question struck Chuuya as odd, but he couldn’t let his facade slip, “No, we had a little trouble with the concierge at the hotel, but nothing catastrophic.”
“Interesting…” he repeated, “Because I received a call from your father-in-law just after you two arrived that you’d been stalled in France.”
Chuuya’s face felt frozen, dread sweeping through his system as he wrapped his brain around what he was being told. Someone had fucked up, someone had fucked up big. Anyone with ties to the actual couple were being monitored in case just such a thing happened, but someone had slipped up. Attempting to recover, he slid a smile back onto his face, knowing already that the jig was up, “He must have been mistaken, perhaps he misunderstood our problem at the hotel-”
“Or perhaps, your husband isn’t who he says he is, and you’re going along for the ride,” he suggested, hands tightening on Chuuya almost to the point of pain, “I don’t know who you are, or why you’re here, but I don’t take kindly to imposters.”
Chuuya’s face hardened, knowing that a struggle now would only put the people around him in danger, or maybe Dazai since his disappearance was now explained, “And where exactly is my husband?” he demanded.
The man smiled evenly back, turning to lead Chuuya off the floor and towards the suited men who’d been watching them earlier, all of them exiting through the double doors there without incident. Chuuya knew there was no point in putting up a fight at the moment, not until he could assure his partner’s safety.
Dazai’s head swam, a single wrist suspended over his head to where it was handcuffed to a pipe. His mouth still tasted like blood, and he was pretty sure a spectacular bruise was starting to bloom over his right cheekbone. It was now up to Chuuya to get him out of this; there was no way to communicate his capture back to Port Mafia’s ground team, with his earpiece found and phone taken, and as Mori had said, no one would be coming if they had already moved on the shipments. The sound of footfalls echoed off the hallway outside the holding room, and then the door was being unlocked; two of the security guards entered, revealing Chuuya, who was pushed forward by their host.
Chuuya’s eyes went wide, seeing the state Dazai was in, ”You son of a bitch..” he growled, spinning on the spot to confront the politician. The security guards were on him in seconds, each taking an arm to pull back and hold him in place. If the men noticed the way he dropped his deceptively feminine voice, they said nothing.
“Be glad he still has a head, we don’t make it a habit of keeping spies around for very long,” he boasted, “But i’m still curious as to who you are, and why you’re here. Unfortunately, your “husband” has been uncooperative on that matter, as you can see.”
“And you think I will?”
The older man reached out to grasp Chuuya’s chin hard, pulling his face up so that the redhead had no choice but to look right at him, “What I think is...maybe we’ve been trying the wrong approach...maybe we rough you up a little, and he’ll talk. What do you think, dollface?”
Chuuya could sense Dazai shift just out of his line of sight; he knew better than to get involved however. These men had no idea that they’d managed to get the drop on a couple of ability users from what Chuuya could tell, and he was going to make them pay for their carelessness. The smaller man’s face split into a smile, head cocking slightly.
“I think you handcuffed the wrong person.”
Both men restraining Chuuya hit the wall behind them with such force that they were rendered unconscious immediately. Their politician friend pulled away quickly, eyes wide in terror at what he’d just witnessed. Before the older man’s flight instincts could take over Chuuya waved a hand downward, his body impacting with the floor, flat on his back with enough force that the marble cracked around him. His chest rose and fell rapidly, staring up at Chuuya in fear.
Strolling forward Chuuya kicked the man’s face to the side, positioning the skinny heel of his shoes just over the man’s temple. He pressed down slightly, letting him feel it; the man whimpered fearfully.
“We both know I have enough force that I can send this through your skull whenever I want,” Chuuya threatened, voice low and dangerous, “so you can cooperate by calling off all your guards and letting us go, or we can do this the hard way, and I can crush all of your men to death on my way out.”
Five minutes later and Dazai and Chuuya were strolling down the grand staircase of the compound; Dazai whistled to himself merrily, a broken handcuff dangling off his wrist, bruised and disheveled.
“You’re an embarrassment,” Chuuya spat, looking at his partner with distaste.
“I can’t help it that those guys tried to knock my teeth out,” Dazai reasoned, making no attempts to wipe away the blood still clinging to his jaw.
“No, I meant the part where you let yourself get captured.”
“Ahh well...I knew Chuuya would come to get me eventually,” he smirked as they hit the landing; several guests there spotted them, looks of shock spreading through the group at their appearance.
“Great, so i’m just supposed to come bail you out…” Chuuya muttered, spotting an unattended bottle of expensive wine on a table; he snatched it up without care, startling some nearby guests, “I’m going to leave you behind next time, just to teach you a lesson.”
“Chuuuuuuya you wouldn’t!” Dazai exclaimed, the pair shoving their way through the front doors and paying no one any mind. Once outside they realized that their car wouldn’t be there to pick them up; Dazai’s phone had been smashed after he’d been captured, and the call would need to come from there.
“You know how to hotwire a car, right?” Chuuya asked, pulling the comb out of his hair, done with his disguise for the night.
“Pff, do I know how to hotwire a car…” Dazai mocked, rolling up his sleeves.
Another five minutes and they had commandeered one of the rival group’s many vehicles; Dazai took the wheel, while Chuuya jumped into the back, pulling off his wrap and setting to work on stripping off all the other accessories. Half way back into town and he popped the cork on the wine he’d stolen, taking a long swig to settle his nerves.
“What a fiasco,” he growled, shaking his hair free of clips, pulling his long gloves off and stashing the (probably) expensive diamond ring in his clutch.
“Yeah? You didn’t get punched in the mouth,” Dazai pointed out, glancing back in the mirror as they raced back in the direction of downtown Yokohama.
“Hah, are you kidding? That was the best thing to happen all night,” Chuuya corrected him, pulling off his heels with a moan, “Oh my god how do women DO this…” he wondered, rubbing at his abused feet.
“Maybe you should do the same more often, could help with that height complex you have,” Dazai teased before one of the heels impacted with the back of his head, “Trying to drive here darling, maybe wait until the car stops.”
“Can’t you just shut up for at least an hour or something? After I came to save your ass…?” Chuuya grumbled, pushing his skirt up and aside to reach for the clips at his thigh, a garter belt strap coming into view between his fingers. The car swerved violently, sending the redhead crashing into the seat.
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!?” Chuuya screamed, righting himself just as Dazai pulled into an unfamiliar area near the docks. It was dark, uninhabited at this time of night, the run-down storage buildings there situated close together to create little concealed alleyways and paths. Dazai pulled into one behind a building, parking and turning off the vehicle immediately, exiting it altogether. Chuuya sat there, waiting to see what the other man did; Dazai rounded the car, pulling the backseat door open and sliding inside. He didn’t even wait for a response from his partner, pushing him down until his back hit the leather upholstery, his mouth on Chuuya’s neck, a hand up his skirt instantly.
“W-wha-DAZAI!” he yelled, squirming under the other man’s fast moving hands.
Dazai’s teeth pulled at his earlobe, a hungry growl in his throat, “I was right,” he smiled pulling away, eyelids heavy, “Silk,” he purred, rubbing at Chuuya’s now fledgling erection through his panties.
Chuuya’s teeth clenched, both in anger and to stifle the groan building in his throat, “You’re a fucking pervert, you know that?” he hissed, blue eyes narrowing.
“Did you really expect me to keep my hands to myself all night?” Dazai smirked, “Oh Chuuya, don’t tell me you’re that dense. Not after watching that old man put his paws all over you.”
Chuuya leaned back, enjoying Dazai’s admission of jealousy; it always got to him for some reason, “You think i’d fuck that old bastard or something? Man, you have a low opinion of me,” he murmured back, Dazai’s fingers teasing over the elastic of his panties and garter belt under the dress.
“No, not really,” the mafia executive answered, leaning down as he snapped one of the straps against Chuuya’s thigh, drawing out a hiss from the smaller man, “We both know you’re a slut only for me.”
Their mouths crashed together; Chuuya buried his hands in Dazai’s hair with a moan, lips apart for him. Dazai pushed Chuuya’s legs up and apart, skirt falling down his thighs so he could settle between them, fingers working down to rub over the silk-covered head of Chuuya’s cock until he could feel the moisture seep through the material. Groaning, Chuuya rocked his hips up into Dazai’s hand, tongue sliding against the other man’s. He hated to prove Dazai right, but now all he wanted was to get off, he didn’t care if he thought his presence had anything to do with that.
Dazai pulled away from his lips, rewarding his breathless partner with a smirk, admiring his handiwork before dipping down lower. Chuuya couldn’t tell what was happening at first, leaning up on his elbows to look further down, but suddenly there was a tongue against his cock, dragging against the head through his panties, hot puffs of breath sinking in against his skin. His head hit the seat under him, moaning as his partner mouthed him through the now clingy silk. Reburying his hand in Dazai’s hair his hips canted up against his mouth, sighing in pleasure. Fingers pulled this way and that at his panties; Dazai stretched the elastic aside, pushing Chuuya’s legs further apart. Sliding down he brought his mouth to the redhead’s entrance, lapping at the muscle gently.
“F-FUCK!” Chuuya’s eyes shot open, a cry on his lips. Gasping he tried to move, either to escape or to seek out more of the rough lick delivered to his opening he didn’t know, but he couldn’t help but squirm, thighs shaking under the assault.
“Stop, oh fuck, stop,” he whined, back arching, attempting to smother the breathless cries falling from his lips with each twitch of Dazai’s tongue. He could feel the other man’s grin against him, the bastard. He lapped at him shamelessly, bend on reducing his partner to a quivering mess, prodding at the opening with the tip of his tongue to draw a scream from Chuuya. Red faced, Chuuya’s fingers scrambled against the leather seat for anything to hold on to; Dazai’s hand found his own, forcing it down against the surface to keep him grounded, working his tongue in and out of him with firm strokes. Chuuya tossed his head, a sob on his lips as he was worked open on Dazai’s tongue; he could feel fluid well and drip down his still clothed length steadily, the shame of knowing he was about to cum just from getting rimmed the only thing keeping his orgasm in check.
As if sensing how close he was Dazai pulled back, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, grin on his face, “Should have known you’d enjoy that, you little slut,” he crooned. Chuuya couldn’t help but twitch at hearing Dazai’s favorite dirty pet name; the man was turning him into a pervert just like him with the way he worked his mouth. Chuuya was a mess, boneless against the seat with his skirt falling around his hips, legs spread. His hair fanned around him in disarray, face a similar red tone, struggling to get his breathing under control. The moon glinted off Dazai’s eyes in satisfaction.
Dazai leaned down to grab the bottle of wine Chuuya had opened earlier, taking a long sip, swishing it around in his mouth before spitting it over the seat. Mouth newly cleaned he ducked down to take Chuuya’s lips again, distracting the other man as he set up two whole fingers at his entrance. Chuuya whined against his mouth, struggling against the stretch of accommodating that much immediately, even after Dazai’s tongue, but taking it nonetheless. Crooking his fingers, Dazai rubbed along his partner’s inner walls, slipping in a third finger when he felt Chuuya adjust. The smaller male groaned when he felt Dazai’s fingertips ghost across his prostate teasingly without enough pressure to fully satisfy him.
Watching the way the redhead rocked down on his fingers, Dazai couldn’t help but groan, “How many times have we fucked now? Twenty? Thirty time?” he asked huskily, working his digits in and out quickly, “Could probably fuck you a thousand times and you’d still be this fucking tight...” he hissed, jabbing sharply to press against Chuuya’s prostate, earning a deep moan of satisfaction.
“Shut up and get your dick out,” Chuuya groaned, trying his best to glare up at the other man in his disoriented state. Dazai gave a raspy laugh at the sight.
“Someone wants it bad tonight,” he teased, reaching for his zipper nonetheless.
“I want you to shut the fuck up and get me off,” Chuuya corrected him, “Or put your mouth back to better use.”
“You love my mouth, don’t lie,” Dazai whispered, leaning back down over his partner, lips at his ear. He tilted Chuuya’s hips, pulling his panties aside again to tease over his hole.
“Tell me how bad you want it…” Dazai demanded in a low voice, nipping at Chuuya’s ear, “Tell me exactly what you want…”
Chuuya smothered a moan, bucking instinctively against the other man, “Fuck off, just put it in me.”
“Not until you give me what I want~” Dazai sang, dragging the head of his cock against Chuuya’s entrance. Chuuya bit down on his lower lip, a growl growing in his chest. He wasn’t the best martial artist in the Port Mafia for nothing; glowering up at the infuriating man teasing him and refusing to back down, he knocked him off balance, rolling them sideways until Dazai was sitting up in the seat, Chuuya in his lap.
“Fuck, Chuuya, wait a minu-”
Ignoring Dazai, Chuuya positioned himself over the man’s erection, hissing in pain as he felt the head breach his entrance. Dazai’s hands flew to his hips immediately, a strangled sound escaping his lips as Chuuya sunk down on him until he bottomed out with a deep groan, hands on Dazai’s shoulders to brace himself. Dazai’s eyes were wide, panting softly as he watched Chuuya’s own lidded eyes blink open, steadying himself as he began rocking up and down on the other man’s cock.
Dazai moaned appreciatively at the slow roll of Chuuya’s hips, his own hips shaking slightly with the effort of not thrusting up into that tight heat. Chuuya had never taken charge like this in the past, and he was open to seeing where the smaller man took things. It wasn’t hard to get caught up in the sight of him either, disheveled and panting, riding Dazai for all he was worth. Chuuya gave himself over to the pleasure, following his instincts to rise and fall on Dazai’s cock at just the right angle, sighing as he slid across his prostate with each pass. He bit at his bottom lip, spine arching into the action, eyelids parting to gaze down at his partner. Dazai was enthralled, eyes narrowed, lips parted around harsh pants as he watched Chuuya move. He couldn’t help but grin, moaning at how good it felt to have the upper hand.
The hands at his hips tightened suddenly, holding him in place before he could sink down again, his body suspended in place.
“Wha-let go asshole!” Chuuya panted, hands balling into fists at Dazai’s shoulders. The man under him smiled, keeping him right where he was so that he could slam his hips up into Chuuya, hitting his prostate dead on with enough power to force a scream from him. Breathy little cries escaped him as he fought to pull himself back together, but Dazai thrust again, once more, three times in quick succession, sending Chuuya falling forward to bury his face in the crook of his neck, a sob on his lips.
“Did you really think you’d get to have all the fun?” Dazai teased, turning his mouth to Chuuya’s ear, continuing to rock up into him at a quickened pace. His hand slid up Chuuya’s thigh, over stockings and straps, snaking under the skirt of his dress to pull his own dripping erection free of his panties, rubbing at his length. Chuuya tossed his head back with a cry, working himself down into each upward thrust until they were rocking together, face to face, the air between them heavy with hot breath and moans.
Chuuya reached under his skirt himself, attempting to bat Dazai’s hand away, “S-stop, I have to return...this dress…” he gritted out between groans.
“No you don’t,” Dazai growled, seizing Chuuya’s hand to force it around his own dick, fingers curled over his partner’s to guide him in touching himself, “I’m gonna make you cum all over it.”
Chuuya whimpered, hips stuttering from the increased pressure of his and Dazai’s hands on his cock. Dazai pushed the fabric up and away so that he could see everything, drinking in the sight of Chuuya touching himself. He was almost to his limit himself, but he needed Chuuya to cross the line first.
“C’mon,” he breathed against the flesh of his neck, rolling his hips up into the other man in time with their hands, “lemme see you cum...Chuuya, please...need you to cum for me…” his voice broke halfway through his plea, throwing his lower body into it as he felt himself slip past the edge.
It was enough; Chuuya’s hips jumped violently, a shuddering cry breaking free as he spilled all over his and Dazai’s fist, relief washing over his taut body at last. Dazai pulled Chuuya’s hips down when he felt him begin to squeeze around him, releasing deep inside the other man with a deep, satisfied groan, cock twitching hard. After several minutes of trying to regulate their breathing, they simply sat like that for a while, with Chuuya’s face pressed to Dazai’s shoulder, still in his lap; Dazai lifted a hand to rub across his back soothingly, waiting for them to both come down from their high before attempting to move again.
“I think...they’re not gonna want this car back…” Chuuya muttered, words muffled by Dazai’s jacket.
Dazai huffed a laugh into Chuuya’s hair, “Oh they’re not getting it back.”
They watched the car sink into the harbor, standing at the edge of the dock; Chuuya stood barefoot, heels in his hand along with the rest of his accessories, dress train gathered up with the other so that his bare legs showed. Dazai had his suit jacket tucked over an arm, swigging from their stolen wine bottle before passing it off to Chuuya. The redhead had thought it was silly to sink the car, but Dazai had claimed that it sent a message; in all actuality he’d probably just wanted an excuse to ruin an expensive vehicle.
“Well, not a bad evening all things considered,” the mafia executive shrugged once the car was no longer visible over the water.
“Yeah, except for the part where you nearly died,” Chuuya reminded him, taking another drink.
“I was never in danger of dying, I had complete faith in you.”
“Gee, thanks,” Chuuya remarked sarcastically. They turned to begin their walk towards the main road, hoping to run into a cab.
“Slow down i’m not wearing shoes,” Chuuya called out, struggling not to step on errant rocks.
“I could carry you,” Dazai suggested with a grin.
“I think i’d rather drown in the harbor with the car.”
Not long after that night, Chuuya found the diamond ring Dazai had given him, a couple weeks after he’d left Port Mafia for good.
He’d lied to Mori upon their return to base for some reason, telling him that the smuggling group had confiscated the rings; they were never found of course, not after the mafia dealt them the final killing blow. It had been in his top dresser drawer, hidden under a scattering of objects that held some sort of personal sentimentality. The desire to chuck it at the wall had been strong, but he stopped short of that; there were far better things to be done with a pretty diamond ring after all.
He found a jewelry shop downtown that offered solid prices on diamonds, the man behind the counter willing to part with several thousand yen just for the stone alone. He’d waited for them to extract it, shaving off the setting until only a thin silver band remained, sitting against the reflective glass of the jewelry counter, Chuuya’s own blank face staring back at himself.
“We could take the platinum as well,” the jeweler suggested, once he’d returned with Chuuya’s money, “Good metal like that goes for quite a bit.”
He considered it, picking up the ring to roll through his fingers. He remembered the night Dazai had slid it on his finger and the same flutter in his chest returned, this time with a sour note trailing after.
“No, i’ll keep it,” Chuuya responded flatly, shoving it into his breast pocket and collecting his money.
He would discover sometime later that it was easy to conceal a ring under leather gloves, but he would never again wear it on his left ring finger. Someone else would have to put it there for him.
He wondered what had become of Dazai’s ring.