"Remind me again just what the hell we're doing in a damn clothing store," Chuuya grumbled. He thought the day was over when Kunikida went out for an evening meeting and told them all they could go home. Apparently not.

"All members of the Agency need proper work clothes," Dazai informed him with a grin, ringing the service bell on the counter at the front of a high-end men's clothing store.

Chuuya's eyes narrowed. "I'm already in a suit, you idiot. If this outfit is good enough for the Boss, then it should be good enough for your agency."

Dazai rolled his eyes. "You just don't get it, Chibi. Those dark clothes are okay for working in the dark, but not for working in the light at the Agency." Chuuya was caught between indignance at the nickname and frustration at being talked down to. He opened his mouth to retort, figuring he'd find the one that bothered him most as the words left his mouth, but Dazai quickly stepped in front of him and extended his arm to a woman who had appeared across the counter. "Mei! How nice to see you again! You get more beautiful every time I see you."

The woman, a middle-aged thing with laugh wrinkles around her pewter eyes and a clipboard held against her wide hip, smiled in greeting. "Welcome back, Mr. Dazai." Her eyes flicked over Chuuya and a spark of interest flashed through them. "And guest."

Dazai slung one arm around his partner and swiped his hat with the other hand. Chuuya grit his teeth and dug his elbow into the bastard's side, but Dazai pretended not to notice. "I have a challenge for you! Chuuya here needs a new wardrobe. Nothing goes with his horrid red hair so I had to take him to the best."

"Hey!" Chuuya snapped at the insult, giving Dazai's shin a kick.

"I do love a challenge," the woman agreed. She looked her latest endeavor up and down, sizing him up. After the briefest pause, a smile spread across her face. "I think I have just the thing. Right this way, gentlemen!"

"What the hell are we doing here?" Chuuya snapped in an undertone as the pair followed the tailor, Dazai's arm still across his shoulders. It had been a long time since Dazai had touched him in such an easy, friendly way. Four years, in fact. It was more distracting than Chuuya would ever admit.

Dazai smirked. "You should know how important clothing is. Mori gives his newest members an article of clothing to symbolize their belonging to him." Dazai twirled Chuuya's hat around his index finger to prove his point, holding it out of reach when it was grabbed at. "The Agency does a similar thing; we provide all of our members with work clothes. So just think of this as your first step into a larger world." He steered him in the direction of the changing rooms as Mei grabbed a few articles of clothing.

"So now that you've decided I'm going to join your Boy Scouts troop, I have to play dress-up!?"

"Yep, pretty much!" Dazai gave him a playful push inside the changing room and pulled the curtain shut behind him. "Don't worry! Mei's a genius."

"Another one of your stupid girlfriends?" Chuuya snapped.

Dazai feigned hurt. "Chuuya, you wound me! I am capable of seeing a beautiful woman and not bedding her."

Chuuya stuck his head out of the room to glare at his former partner. "You sure about that?"

Dazai merely grinned. "Positive. Besides, my dream is a lover's suicide now!"

Chuuya rolled his eyes and disappeared back behind the curtain, ignoring the burst of jealousy in his chest. Damn him to hell for every second of this shitfest!

The clothes were lying on a shelf, folded immaculately. Chuuya wondered when Mei had placed them inside; he certainly hadn't seen her do it. Of course, Dazai had always been so aggravating. He could distract a person from a freight train's approach (and had – they'd won a battle that way before).

Wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible, he stripped off his vest and unbuttoned his shirt. He was loath to get rid of his clothes – they were finely tailored by the best Yokohama had to offer. And Dazai was right: he did know how important clothes were. This outfit symbolized more than belonging to Mori, whatever that moron said. It symbolized his rise in the Port Mafia. It symbolized his power. And it symbolized the life he'd carved out for himself since Dazai had disappeared, leaving a power vacuum by way of an open Executive spot that Chuuya himself had filled.

But however much he cared for his current outfit, he had to admit this Mei person knew what she was doing. He felt the way the fabric slid onto his body, appreciating the brush of the expensive material against his still-sensitive skin. These pants may not be tailored to him, but they were pretty damn close. Impressive, especially considering she didn't have his measurements.

The outfit was a three-piece suit in a cool grey tone. The shirt underneath was a blood red. Chuuya couldn't help the smirk that formed as he looked at himself in the mirror. For an outfit meant to be worn "in the light" (whatever that meant), it was still bold and powerful. In spite of himself… he liked it. The only downside was that his favorite hat didn't exactly match the look.

Dazai tapped his foot as he waited, checking his watch as if he had somewhere to be. He hardly ever had somewhere to be after work, and tonight was no exception, but he preferred looking bored to excited. The truth was, he'd offered more than a mere suggestion to Mei – he'd practically picked the outfit himself, and he couldn't wait to see it in action.

After several minutes, he lost patience. He tore the curtain aside. "Chuuya, stop admiring yourself in the mirror and hurry…"

He trailed off, the reprimand forgotten. Chuuya was bent over, one foot on the bench as he laced his new work shoes. He whipped his head around, shooting Dazai a pointed glare that the man barely noticed. The redhead straightened, standing up and setting a fist on his hip in a posture of upmost annoyance.

He was saying something about Dazai's inability to recognize privacy, but the words barely registered. The only thought going through Dazai's head at the moment was of how shockingly decent Chuuya looked. He'd known he could pull off the bold grey and red combination, of course, but he'd somehow managed to forget just how good red looked on his old partner. It contrasted so beautifully with his eyes and complimented the red glow of his ability.

An ability that was currently causing his discarded shoes to fly through the air. Dazai snapped himself out of his daze in time to duck, avoiding a dress shoe to the face.

"If you wanted a peep show you should have gone downtown, you creep!" Chuuya snapped.

Dazai merely laughed, catching the next projectile deftly and tossing it back at him. "Don't take so long next time!" He turned around. "Mei! We'll take it."

Chuuya glared. "Isn't that my decision?"

A grin flashed his way. "You don't like the outfit?"

He didn't respond. Admitting he liked it would be feeding into Dazai's warped sense of humor and giving him even more ammo to use against him one day. However, he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity for such an expensive change. And it was part of the mission, he reminded himself. If he had to play the part of an Agency member, then he could at least look good doing it.

The mission. The idea still left a bad taste in his mouth.

He shook himself and gave Dazai a shove, pushing him out of the changing room. "Go pay for this crap; I'm changing back."

As he switched back into his Port Mafia-issued attire, he remembered Dazai's expression from a moment before. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen that bastard speechless. Or had he just imaged it?

"You did good today."

Chuuya ignored the compliment – it was almost definitely backhanded, anyway. He stood in the middle of Dazai's apartment and rotated slowly, shopping bags in hand, examining the depressingly small space. "No way this is where the Agency puts its members up," he muttered in distaste. True, he'd been there for two days already, but somehow the day's events solidified in his mind the squalor of the agency's dorms.

Dazai only laughed and pulled a bottle of sake out of a cabinet. "Since we're a little overstaffed at the moment, we don't have any dorm rooms to spare. You'll be bunking with me." He shot his ex-partner-turned-coworker a grin. "Just like old times."

Chuuya was not amused at the attempt at making light of the situation. "I have a penthouse downtown, you bandage-squandering machine. What the hell makes you seriously think I'm going to take such a massive step down?"

Dazai pulled a face. "'Bandage-squandering machine,' huh? I should have known introducing you to Kunikida would end up biting me." He poured two generous helpings of sake into two small glasses and extended one to Chuuya. "Besides, your 'penthouse' is really just a fancy dorm room, too. Mori likes to keep his execs close."

Chuuya took the glass and tossed it back, spilling the liquid down his throat before he could think better of it. After the day he'd had, and the conversations he'd had, and the night it looked like he was about to have, not to mention the weird look Dazai gave him back at the tailor's… he needed a stiff drink.

"'Dorm' makes it sound like we're in college or some shit."

Dazai chuckled and refilled his glass. "Well, many of our members are kids. We like to keep a fun and youthful air about the place."

Chuuya noticed the speed with which his glass was refilled and frowned. "Trying to get me drunk, you old snake?"

He was met with a grin. "I just figured you could use it after today. We are celebrating your daring escape from the Port Mafia, after all."

"I told you, I haven't made up my mind yet."

"You just keep telling yourself that." Dazai winked before taking the bottle and glasses over to the couch. Collapsing onto the cushions with bizarre grace, he let out a sigh. "I always knew someday we'd end up working together again."

Chuuya scoffed. The edges of his mind were already dulling, the alcohol doing its work. Deep down he knew how dangerous getting drunk around Dazai was (that monster could sniff out and exploit weakness better than Mori himself), but his body ached from Corruption and his stomach churned from his latest mission and the offer of dulling those feelings was just too tempting. He sat on the couch and took the bottle from Dazai, refilling his own glass.

Dazai watched him from the corner of his half-closed eye. He was almost surprised by the lack of response. Actually, now that he thought about it, Chuuya had been less responsive to his jabs for most of the day now. Since the bomber. He'd ask if something happened while he was gone, but he knew Chuuya could handle himself against office pressure. It was probably just the lingering effects of Corruption and the weight of betraying people he considered his friends.

That, or Mori had gotten to him already.

Dazai wasn't an idiot – he knew the likelihood of Mori taking advantage of Chuuya's current whereabouts was high. Just like he knew that Mori had definitely tracked them down by now. If he knew his former employer at all, he probably had someone watching them right now.

Well, if Mori had gotten to him, the optimal solution was to let things play out. He was confident he knew Chuuya better than Mori did. Chuuya had been his partner, after all, and he hadn't changed much in the past four years.

But as he watched Chuuya toss back his third shot of sake, a nagging doubt in the back of his mind came to the forefront. There was something he'd been expecting from the Mafioso for months, ever since he'd allowed Kyoka to capture him ages ago. People rarely defied his expectations, and yet here was Chuuya, keeping his mouth stubbornly closed when the elephant in the room loomed bigger than ever.

Well, if Chuuya wasn't going to bring it up, then he supposed he may as well break the ice.

"You haven't asked."

Chuuya froze mid-drink, still-full glass to his lips. He eyed the man next to him with suspicion, eyes narrowed. His hand slowly lowered, pulling the alcohol away.

"Asked what?" he questioned, even though he had an idea of what the traitor was referring to.

"Why I left." A silence descended. Dazai counted five heartbeats before he decided Chuuya needed more prompting. "Don't tell me you're not interested."

Chuuya scoffed, allowing one more mouthful of alcohol to burn its way down his throat before replying. "I'm not." It was a half-truth. "I stopped caring why you walked out years ago."

Dazai blinked. "You really don't care why I left the Port Mafia?" Why I left you. The words hung between them, unsaid but still intended.

He scowled. "What do you think I am, a child? Crying myself to sleep at night because the bastard who dragged me into the organization up and ran? When I heard you'd gone, I fucking celebrated. I don't give a damn why you left."

Now that, Dazai didn't believe for a moment. Chuuya felt things far too deeply for that to be true. The mafia executive was many things, but apathetic was never one of them. "Huh. I'd have thought my old partner would be at least a tiny, tiny bit curious why I-"

He snapped, the line of questioning digging too far into buried truths he wanted – needed – to remain concealed. "I'm not curious because I already know!"

Dazai was taken-aback, but he hid it well. He kept his expression carefully open and interested, giving as little away as possible. Sure, Chuuya might think he knew, but there was no way he could possibly-

"Your friend died, right? Oda?" Chuuya shrugged and looked away. "You were always going on about how he had some bizarre moral code. I know you were there when he died. I figure he must have made some last request, right? Something about getting a better life?"

He hit the nail right on the head. Dazai felt the years-old wound threaten to reopen. The grief that had consumed him after Odasaku's death had been… painful. Dark. The worst he'd ever been. But now wasn't about that, he reminded himself. Now was about Chuuya and making sure the elephant in the room was killed so they could work together again.

"How did you know?" The vulnerability in his voice made him inwardly cringe.

It made Chuuya look at him again, too. "Same way you knew I'd protect the Sheep, even from the Port Mafia. I listened to you, bastard. You were my friend, too."

Dazai caught the past-tense, and it made something throb in his chest. He let the information sink in, the confession that Chuuya had paid attention to him when he talked about his friends. That was something only a friend did. Or if not a friend, then someone who was at least interested enough in him to listen when he talked about his personal life. He let out a soft laugh. "It seems I underestimated you, Chibi. And here I thought you'd be crying over me!"

"Enough with that stupid nickname! And why the hell would I cry over you? You're a pain in my ass!"

Dazai stared at him for a long moment, pieces sliding into place. Maybe Chuuya had taken it all philosophically… but he doubted it. There was something more between them, at least on Chuuya's side, and he knew he was right about that much. He'd bet his life on it. So he reached out a hand and let the back of his finger glide over his partner's cheek, barely touching, a gentle caress.

Chuuya froze at the touch. He felt the years-old stirring inside of him, a pull he'd done his best to forget.

This was Dazai at his most dangerous. Not when he had a gun in his hand and vengeance on his mind. Not when his eyes were cold and devoid of emotion. Not when he'd gathered all the strings of his puppets and commanded them to move. No, he was most dangerous like this. Soft and sweet and warm. Inviting, like a safe place. Like a harbor in the midst of a hurricane.

And that was what Chuuya was. A hurricane. Destruction itself stirred inside of him, always a chant away from being unleashed. And even when the demon was bottled up, Chuuya's ability could still tear the city apart. It was that that drew him to Dazai. Despite all his harsh words and all his teasing, when Dazai was touching him, he was human. Arahabaki fell still and silent. And he needed that stillness like life itself. Had been deprived of it for years now.

Which made him just like every other ability user, he knew. There wasn't a gifted person alive that wasn't a little bit mad, a little bit broken. And the fact that at the end of the day he was just like all the rest made Chuuya's skin crawl.

"For what it's worth," Dazai whispered, "I've missed you."

The blow landed, but Chuuya pushed the pain of it aside. He scoffed, but there was no heat in his words. "You knew where I was. I didn't have that privilege."

Dazai smiled slowly. "Ah… so you are angry."

"Of course I'm angry. You walked out. Because one man died, you left the rest of us behind like we were nothing."

"'Us'?"

Chuuya sensed the danger. He knew Dazai was trying to get him to admit that the betrayal hurt him more deeply, that it was more personal for him. But he wouldn't. Instead, he looked Dazai straight in the face and repeated, "Yeah. Us."

Dazai tilted his head and searched his expression. His finger still grazed Chuuya's cheek. "Who's 'us'?" He kept his tone soft, quiet, and slow. Calming.

"Q. Tachihara. Gin. Akutagawa."

"And all of them are fine," Dazai reminded him.

Chuuya scoffed. "If you think Akutagawa is fine, then you clearly haven't seen the kid lately."

Dazai's hand moved slowly down Chuuya's cheek, coming to rest below his chin. He caressed the skin softly with the pad of this thumb, pleasantly relieved when he wasn't rebuffed. "Why do you care so much about him?"

He knew, Chuuya knew, he should pull away. But Dazai's touch was at once electric and so blissfully calming, and like a damned idiot, he didn't push him away. "Why don't you? He idolizes you. You tore him to pieces before you left, and then you just… Why do I bother? You don't give a shit."

"On the contrary, I find Akutagawa quite interesting. Especially since you obviously do."

"You want to know why I care so damn much? I took over for you after you left. He was broken and dangerous without a master to follow, so I stepped up. I gave him direction for a while, until Mori took him off my hands."

Dazai smiled. "Are you saying he's as strong as he is now because of your help?"

"I'm saying he's overcome a lot, and you should go easier on him. I'm saying you left a huge fucking hole and all of us had to get stronger. I'm saying you stunted the Port Mafia more than anything."

Dazai chuckled. "Ouch, Chuuya. That one almost hurt. Besides, I don't think Mori would agree with you."

"I don't give a damn what Mori agrees with; it's the truth. All of us have gotten stronger."

"Oh, I know. I've seen a few of the tricks you've learned since the good old days."

"Don't try flattery with me. I know your tricks too well."

"Oh, yeah? Then how come I'm still touching you?"

A slow, feral smile spread across Chuuya's face. "Ever considered maybe I can play you, too?"

Dazai laughed at the attempt. "Oh, Chuuya… we both know that when it comes right down to it, I'm in control." Before his partner could respond, Dazai cupped his cheek in his hand and pressed a kiss to his temple. A quick touch, there one second and gone the next. He stood and stretched. "You should rest. You're still not totally over Corruption."

Chuuya hated the warmth in his face and tried to hide the blush with a scowl. "Fine. But I'm taking the bed, you ass-hat. You get the couch."

Dazai just laughed and pulled blankets down from a nearby closet. He made a show of spreading them out, making a little nest for himself. Chuuya, for his part, didn't bother watching. He returned the sake to its place in the kitchen and washed the cups.

As he stripped down to his undershirt and boxers, Dazai turned away to give him some semblance of privacy. He thought that was the end of it, their conversation over for the night, until the silence was broken again.

"You know, this is never going to work if you can't trust me."

Chuuya rolled his eyes as he climbed into bed. "I trust you."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I trust you to be an annoying prick and to have a backup plan for everything."

Dazai chuckled as he turned the light off. "Good enough."