#prompters

Chuuya should have known something was up when Dazai's dumbass comments came later than they normally would.

The enemy had been neutralized, finally, their mentees arguing as they made their way towards where Dazai had been sitting casually on a fallen pillar. Chuuya jumped from his own perch, landing on the ground beside Dazai, watching Akutagawa try to subtly trip Atsushi and let out a sigh.

"… they really do remind me of some delinquent I knew," Dazai said as the two finally made it closer.

"Hah?" Chuuya turned to look at him, surprised to hear him speaking up so late. He looked tired. "The fuck are you talking about, you beanpole?" he asked, aiming a kick for Dazai's leg only for the jackass to try and avoid it.

Try, being the keyword, as once Dazai moved his leg, he curled in a little and let out a soft, "Ow." Chuuya froze, eyes on Dazai, scanning him more critically now, not unnoticed by the idiot as he quickly sat back upright and waved a careless hand at Chuuya. "I'm fine—ow, jeez—"

"Dumbass," Chuuya hissed, shooting a glance at their two mentees who had turned to look at them at Dazai's gasp of pain. "Where the fuck is it?"

"Where is what, Chuuya?" Dazai smiled at him, all fake confusion and pained tension. Chuuya rolled his eyes with an annoyed huff, stepping forward to shield as much of Dazai as he could with his body from the prying eyes of the duo watching them with concerned expressions.

Or well. One concerned expression and the closest to concerned that Akutagawa could manage, which looked more like confused constipation.

"Hey losers," Chuuya said, infusing as much casual authority into his voice as he could, burying his own worries beneath the learned facade of an executive. Akutagawa's attention immediately shifted to him, back straightening slightly, trained to follow his commands almost as much as he craved to follow Dazai's. The weretiger was more hesitant to turn towards him, but with most of Dazai hidden behind Chuuya, he didn't have much of a choice. "Go check to see if there are any survivors."

"But this area was abandoned—"

"Do I look like I was fucking asking?" Chuuya snapped, glaring at Atsushi's protest. The kid had some balls on him, he couldn't deny that as he met Chuuya's gaze unwavering, only looking away when Akutagawa pulled him by the arm.

"Come on, weretiger," Akutagawa was saying as he walked away. Atsushi scrambled after him, throwing confused glances back to Chuuya, but when he turned to say something to Akutagawa again he got distracted by whatever reply he got.

With those two at a safe distance, Chuuya rounded on Dazai again. His ex-partner looked sheepishly up at him, his face pale and his smile shaky.

"Out with it," Chuuya sighed, stepping closer and removing his gloves. "Where did you get hit?"

"Oh? Is Chuuya going to play nurse with me?" Dazai hummed.

"I can play executioner if you'd prefer."

"Unfortunately not, I don't plan to die by your hands. It would be such a lonely death."

Another sigh. "Dazai."

He met Dazai's gaze, tired and waiting, arms crossed as emotions flashed across the other's face like a roulette wheel. Annoyance, exhaustion, faked amusement, before finally landing on reluctant pain.

"Leg," Dazai finally admitted. Guilt was a piercing pain in Chuuya's chest, but he brushed it off. It wasn't his fault that Dazai had hidden an injury from him even as a part of his treacherous brain whispered to him how Dazai wouldn't have hidden a serious injury had they really still been partners and not the strange, uneasy allies that they were now.

It wasn't even true, Chuuya tried to remind himself as he stepped closer and swiped Dazai's battered coat out of the way so he could look over his legs for any signs of obvious damage. Dazai had lied about injuries plenty of times even when they had been partners. This knowledge did little to ease the pain of distrust that settled in his heart.

There weren't any bloodstains or clear tears to show the damage. This either meant that it was a twist or sprain, or something worse.

"Is it broken?" he asked, kneeling and reaching his hands out to take careful hold of Dazai's legs. There was no whine or sound of protest, so he assumed probably not, but he still hoped to get a straight answer out of Dazai anyway. A foolish hope, of course, but Chuuya had always played the fool when it came to him.

"Not that I can tell," Dazai said. He shuffled in place, wincing as the movement shifted the leg Chuuya still had a hold on. His left leg, the one he had broken back at Meursault, of course.

Chuuya sighed. "Have you not been resting it?"

"It rests."

"Bullshit." Chuuya sat down fully, resigning himself to his fate. "If it bothers you, you can't just push through it, dumbass."

Dazai shrugged. "We finished the mission, didn't we? I don't see a problem here."

Didn't see a problem. Rage ran through Chuuya's body in an instant, followed by guilt, followed by sorrow. Dazai didn't see a problem, didn't see a need to say anything, didn't see why Chuuya would want to know if he was injured. Their relationship had always been tedious, always balanced on a sharp precipice of trust that rarely stayed consistent, but every time Chuuya thought maybe they had learned, maybe he had learned, he was proven wrong.

"Fine," he sighed, carefully releasing Dazai's leg to avoid further injury and standing, dusting the dirt from his pants and sliding his gloves back on. "If there's no problem here, then I will leave the rest to you. I'm sure you can handle Akutagawa."

He only made it three steps before a hand reached out, grabbing his vest. He stopped but didn't turn around. Refused to give Dazai that satisfaction.

"Chuuya," Dazai said, his voice quiet and gentle, promises and lies that he always fed Chuuya whenever he tried to put up the walls that Dazai insisted on having.

"No," he snapped, still not turning to face him. "You don't get to do that. If you don't want my help, that's fine, but I am not playing this game with you."

Instead of releasing him, he felt a tug on his vest, a request to come closer that he ignored. Dazai did this every time.

"Chuuya," he repeated, voice softening, almost pleading. "Look at me?"

And Chuuya was the fool every time.

He turned, not fully but enough to catch Dazai's eyes, to see the look on his face. Uncharacteristic worry marred his brows and the slight downturn in his smile.

"What, Dazai?" Chuuya asked, bone-weary.

"I'm—" Despite the slight twitch of his brows, the hiccup in his breath, Dazai still held his gaze. "I'm sorry, okay?"

Chuuya let out a sigh, turning fully to face Dazai again. It dislodged Dazai's hold on his vest, but Dazai didn't let that motion deter him, instead reaching his hand to grab one of Chuuya's and tugging him closer again. He followed the motion, ignoring the beat of his heart when he had to look down slightly to continue their staring contest.

"You have to let me help," Chuuya said softly. "I can't help if I don't know you're hurt."

"I know." Dazai finally broke their eye contact, choosing instead to lean forward and rest his head against Chuuya's chest. His hold on Chuuya's hand tightened. "But you had to handle your part of the mission. I couldn't have you rushing back to me, and don't even lie and say you wouldn't have."

Chuuya shut his mouth and an amused huff. He moved his free hand to rub the back of Dazai's skull, a gentle massage that earned him a grateful hum. "Fine. But don't do it again. I care about you, Dazai. Let me."