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astxlphe-fics · 4 years

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Dazai didn’t plan for any of this to happen to Akutagawa

The first thing he does, upon being pulled out of his cell by Ango, is planning on how to get him back.

Fix it fic

Pairing : Dazaku, Dazai Osamu / Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Word count : 5 361

Content Warnings : mentioned character death, vomiting, blood drinking, vampire, biting

There is a commotion in Yokohama, and Ango comes to pull Dazai out of his cell.

"I managed to convince them to let you out," Ango tells him, gaze severe. "That you were essential to putting a stop to what is going on."

"Smart." He smiles, tilting his head, and wonders how Atsushi and Akutagawa are doing. If he's right — and he usually is — Kamui is someone influential, and the two of them will have exposed him. "And what exactly is going on?"

Ango doesn't look happy, and Dazai can feel a tiny bit of suspicion worm it's way inside his brain. He remembers when he glanced at Fyodor, in the cell facing him, as he walked out of the prison, and the Russian man smiled, mocking.

Smug. Why is he so smug? Dazai is free, Fyodor is not. Dazai wins.

"What," he repeats, "is going on?"

"I picked up Atsushi at the drop point, as planned. Kamui is Fukuchi Ouchi, the head of the Hunting Dogs. Atsushi barely managed to get away."

And what about Akutagawa, he doesn't ask, because he feels enough dread and he's smart enough that maybe he can guess.

"We are now dealing with a vampire outbreak," Ango goes on, and the look he sends him is too close to pity for Dazai to stand his gaze for too long. "As for what exactly happened...I think Atsushi should be the one to tell you."

It's bad then. His mind conjures images of Akutagawa, bloody and face blank and heart still, and his own skips a few beats. He stops his train of thoughts before they get the best of him. He’s not ready for where it's going, so he hangs onto Akutagawa as much as possible.

Angry scowl and rebellious and slightly petulant “I don’t care" to his request to help Atsushi and a fiery temper and eyes that make Dazai's stomach flip in a way he’s still not quite ready to face.

He breathes. Akutagawa is strong, he is fine. He was always strong, in spite of Dazai's reluctance to actually tell him that.

Atsushi and Akutagawa are young, and still inexperienced, but their combined power is nothing to laugh at and pulled them through several powerful enemies.

But is it strong enough to beat Fukuchi Ouchi, he wonders, and quickly he knows the answer is “probably not”.

“Bram Stoker?” Dazai guesses. There is only one known ability user capable of creating something close to vampires, and it’s Bram Stoker — who caused a terrible calamity eight years ago and was since then not heard of again. Officially, Fukuchi himself killed him, but if Fukuchi is Kamui then—

“Very likely.”

Ango leads him out of the prison, not through the front door but through the underground tunnels leading out in the deeper parts of the city.

“The outbreak started within the Port Mafia,” Ango goes on, “and spread throughout the underworld through them. The Black Lizards went down first, according to Tachihara. We have no idea what happened to the high-ranking members, but—” he trails, scowls. Checks his phone. “We’re not optimistic.”

The Port Mafia should be able to hold back against such a thing — lock down their Headquarters and safe houses, carefully comb through their members for any wayward vampire, keep the infection to a minimum in their ranks, and then hit back against the source of it.

This kind of thing means loss of business and Mori, he knows, would not stand for it.

With Chuuya, Kouyou, and Mori out of the picture, they can’t count on their strength to fight back, which is a less than ideal situation.

His mind races as he follows Ango through quiet, empty streets, trying to figure it out. The source of it — Bram Stoker, obviously, but who is the first victim? Would putting Stoker out of commission be enough to turn everyone back? So, does it mean Dazai only needs to find him and touch him?

If Atsushi came back alone from the confrontation with Fukuchi, instead of walking away from it with Akutagawa at his side, probably means that—

“We’re here.” It's a house. A nice one, at that, nondescript and, he guesses, some sort of safehouse for spies or criminals. He doesn’t recognize the address, but the Mafia is always shifting and changing to avoid being caught. “It’s a Mafia safehouse,” he confirms, “the Agency is here, Mori gave them access before the outbreak.”

“Dazai!!”

It’s a chorus that welcomes him, and he grins, trying to be lighthearted even though their faces tell him how tired they are. “My, my, what a mess,” he exclaims, “you guys are really lost without me, aren’t you?”

Some muttering and eye rolls answer him, but they all smile and pat his back and Naomi and Kenji draw him into a tight hug, but to be honest they’re not the ones he expected to jump at him.

The president pats his shoulder, and tells him how good it is to have him back, before his eyes slide to the teen sitting on the ground in the corner. "He hasn’t said a word since Ango brought him back here,” he informs him. “Six hours ago.”

So, Dazai turns to his protégé, who is staring at a spot on the opposite wall and resolutely does not look at him, or anyone. Kyouka sits next to him, so close she might as well me melting into his side.

No Akutagawa in sight, but Atsushi is wearing a familiar black coat. Still, while Dazai usually trusts his brain to come up with the answers by itself, this time around he wants to hear it. He will not let Akutagawa go until he doesn’t have proof before his own two eyes.

He crouches in front of Atsushi; whose gaze focuses on him and Dazai just has the time to smile and say “ hello Atsushi" before he bursts into tears.

“I’m sorry,” he cries, and rubs at his own face until it’s red. “Akutagawa—he— Fukuchi killed him.” He says the words as if he barely believes them himself, as if it’s the first time he actually speaks them out loud and is just getting used to the notion. “He— Fukuchi offered to train him and said he had to kill me but Akutagawa said no and we tried to fight him together and we won.” He pauses, catching his breath before his words can turn too garbled by his hiccups and sniffles. “But his sword, it cut through time and with it he also — he cut his throat with his sword and Akutagawa knew and he still did it to help me get away— I’m so sorry Dazai, I didn’t want—”

Dazai’s blood has gone cold, and he isn’t sure what Atsushi tells him next. This is one of the worst outcomes. He estimated, when he asked for Akutagawa’s help, that the risks were minimal.

He miscalculated.

This isn’t what was supposed to happen.

Akutagawa and Atsushi were supposed to make it, together, and come out on the other side stronger than ever.

“—and now he’s this—this— vampire thing and it’s my fault, I should’ve listened to Ranpo but Fukuchi had the page from the Book so— I don’t understand,” he ends up saying. “Why would he—”

“It’s not your fault,” Dazai hears himself say. “Akutagawa took on this mission out of his own, free will.” He still sees himself insisting until he agrees in spite of his misgivings, and this affirmation feels a little like a lie. “Akutagawa made the choice to save you. It was his decision and his alone. It’s not your fault.”

It’s not Atsushi’s fault, but it’s Dazai’s, a little, and Fukuchi’s, the most.

“He said he didn’t want to die until you acknowledged him,” Atsushi adds quietly, wiping his nose, as if it doesn’t make it worse. “That he couldn’t afford to disappoint you.”

Fukuchi, in Dazai’s mind, is already a dead man, and he can feel the cold dread in his insides turn into white hot fury.

“I’m not.” Atsushi doesn’t look convinced, so he insists. “I’m not mad or disappointed in you, or in Akutagawa.”

He’s disappointed in himself for not seeing it coming and mad at Fukuchi and Stoker for doing such a thing to Akutagawa.

“That’s good.” Atsushi sniffles, the whispered answer has Dazai pulling him into an embrace.

Atsushi grabs onto his coat, hands closing into fists, and buries his face in his chest. Dazai rests his chin on the top of his head for a short time, holding tight on the grieving kid, trying to put order in what he’s heard.

“Akutagawa is a vampire?” he asks the rest of them. Ango shrugs.

“He told me, on the way here, that he saw him. I didn’t though, and I guess we could write it off as a hallucination of sort, but—”

“The outbreak started with the Mafia, specifically the Black Lizards,” Ranpo cuts in, glasses firmly up on his nose, sucking on a lollipop. “According to Ango here, Akutagawa’s subordinate was turned first and spread it to the rest, but she hasn’t been anywhere close to Fukuchi or Bram Stoker.” He stumbles on Fukuchi’s name, and the president looks nothing but pained. “Short answer is yes.”

“And he’s probably our patient zero,” Dazai completes for him. “I figured as much.”

“Do you have an idea on how to combat the infection?” Kunikida asks. From the beginning, he has been standing close to Atsushi, obviously unwilling to push him too much to speak. He sits down, though, and his hand now rests on Atsushi’s shoulder.

“Well, Ango came to get me, didn’t he?” He smiles blandly. “You guys think No Longer Human can cancel it?”

Dracula is an ability, which means that No Longer Human can erase it. “If we can find Stoker,” the president suggests, “we could put a stop to it.”

“Would it turn everyone back, though?” Yosano wonders.

“We believe it would.” When everyone turns to him, Ango elaborates: “From previous records, all of them are linked to him in a way. On their first report, Fukuchi and his team noted that while they acted wild, they seemed to have some sort of hivemind. That was before Stoker was discovered to be at the origin of the phenomenon, so Fukuchi would not have falsified that information. After Stoker's defeat, everyone infected was cured on their own.” And, back to Dazai: “So yes, we track down Stoker, you erase his ability, everyone is be back to normal. You’re the only one who can do this, Dazai.”

“It appears so.”

It doesn’t change the fact that Fukuchi killed Akutagawa, and right now they have no way to know if turning him back into a human will send him right back into death’s embrace.

In any case, Akutagawa is Dazai's student. His responsibility. His. If someone has to stop Akutagawa on a blood drinking spree, it's Dazai. He refuses to allow anyone else to do it.

“And I will fix it, as you ask, but only—” Ango's almost silent sigh of relief is cut short. “Only if we find Akutagawa first.”

No, he’s not ready to let Akutagawa die. Death has already taken much from Dazai, and he will not let it have Akutagawa. Not now. Not as long as Dazai is alive to pull him away from it.

Ango stays silent for a long time, lips pinched. “Dazai.” His tone is very careful. “I understand your position but we can’t prioritise Akutagawa over the rest of the city. Stoker is our priority.”

“Akutagawa first,” he insists. He knows Ango is right, but a plan is already forming, and adjusting to his previous miscalculations and going off into several directions until he thinks of something coherent enough that he’s sure it’ll end with Akutagawa coming back to them.

Coming back to him.

“Thousands of people are being hurt because of Stoker,” Kunikida argues. “We should—”

“Akutagawa,” he repeats firmly, glaring at Kunikida, whose mouth closes in a clack of teeth, though he is not any less frustrated. “Then Stoker.”

And then…And then the president’s clench around the handle of his blade and, one way or another, Fukuchi will not get away with it.

He doesn’t know what the others see when they look at him, but whatever it is it shuts down any other attempt at supporting Ango's argument.

“Fine,” Ango relents. “But be careful. We don’t know if you can be turned.”

“Very unlikely,” Ranpo pipes in.

Dazai nods along, and ruffles his distraught junior’s hair with a smile. “Hear that, Atsushi? We can still get Akutagawa out of all this trouble.”

“I—” Atsushi pauses, sending Dazai a sidelong glance, which lets Dazai know that he’s still making that face everyone seems to find scary. “I’m sorry.”

“No need,” Dazai tells him again. “It’s not your fault. Which way?”

Atsushi stops and raises his head, breathes in deeply through his nose and mouth, licks his lips. Dazai watches him intently — he is slightly better, less distressed than before. The perspective of saving Akutagawa, even if only to repay him for what he did for him, seems to lift his spirit. Good, because Atsushi is an essential part of the plan — if anyone can track down Akutagawa it’s him, with his keen tiger nose.

They have been following his trail for about an hour now, after another full hour of Ango explaining what he knows of Stoker’s ability.

The other person needed for it is Yosano, because no matter the outcome they’ll need a doctor on site.

“This way.”

Atsushi leads them deeper into the city, towards the slums. Atsushi keeps sending him little nervous glances, fidgeting with the collar of Akutagawa’s coat. It’s obvious he has something to say, and a twinge of guilt lets Dazai know that he dislikes making Atsushi feel like he can’t speak to him.

“What is it?” he asks, willing his tone to be softer, like Atsushi needs.

Atsushi needs kindness and guidance. He doesn’t need to see the Dazai with the itch in his bones, with the urges to repay his enemies tenfold, waking up after years of forcing them down. Old habits die hard.

Those urges, he knows, are only back because he feels stupid and useless and angry.

“It’s just—” he bites his lips. “I want to help Akutagawa too, but Ango is right, isn’t he? And if we stop Stoker, wouldn’t that help Akutagawa all the same?”

“It’s riskier,” he explains. “If Akutagawa died — or was dying — before being turned, then he could die soon after he turns back.”

Atsushi blanches. “So, you want to knock him out and bring him back so Doctor Yosano can be around when he turns back?”

“We would not be able to hold him until we found Stoker and put out of commission — remember that the vampires have increased strength? Besides, we would have to leave Yosano and several of ours behind to keep him in check, and they would risk being infected before we deal with Stoker. So, my plan is a bit different.”

“And... are you sure it’ll work?”

“Of course, I am!”

Of course, he isn't. He can see two outcomes right now but who knows how many he’s missing? He completely missed the vampire development, didn’t he? What if it doesn’t work?

“According to Ango, Dracula works by blood consumption — when Stoker drinks someone’s blood, he infects them with a component which alters their very being to transfer a part of his ability within them. This is what allows his victims to spread it to other people. Now, Atsushi-kun—” he wags his finger in front of the boy’s face, confidently, as if he’s sure of what he’s doing and not hoping he’s not missing something big “—what do you think will happen if someone tries to infect me ?”

“With your ability? I guess it wouldn’t work and— Oh!” His face brightens. “If they drink your blood —”

“No Longer Human will also cancel Dracula within their body.” Or so he hopes. “If he starts dying on us, Yosano will be able to heal him. Right?”

“Right.” Yosano plays with the handle of a large knife. She's carrying a first aid kit which contains everything under the sun that could be needed.

Even if all vampires are connected to him, Stoker can’t individually control them. There are too many of them. As a result, the brain functions and blood flow must be conserved for each infected person to move on their own.

If Akutagawa was dead when turned, then Stoker had to reactivate them, which means being under his ability's influence he is functionally alive.They still have a chance at healing him even if those functions fail once Stoker’s ability leaves him.

If they don’t but his wounds reopen, Yosano can heal him. If his heart stops, Yosano can revive him.

Akutagawa depends on him being right on this — and a few years ago he would have scoffed and scorned at Akutagawa for being too weak, too dependent on him. But even then, he would have tried everything to save him, and then taught him a lesson to remember.

(Now he just wants to hold him, make sure he is alive, and maybe kiss him one day, but it’s neither the time or the place or something he likes thinking about)

Atsushi leads them through the slums now. It’s midday, and so far, they’ve managed to avoid any large groups of vampires thanks to Atsushi’s nose detecting them before they could.

“They smell like blood,” Atsushi explains, wrinkling his nose. “It’s kind of gross, actually. The only reason I can pinpoint Akutagawa is because I spent time with him and I have this—” he tugs at the coat again.

“Are you sure we aren’t following an old trail?”

They’re approaching an old road Dazai knows very well, as it leaves the city to turn into an even more familiar path as it goes through the woods.

“I’m sure.”

He can see, in the distance, the old tree stump he met Akutagawa almost 7 years ago, and another time, just a few days before.

“He’s close,” Atsushi whispers.

His lips twitch into a small smile. Of course, he comes back here. Even if he doesn’t have all his mind, even if it’s only instinct, Akutagawa’s steps always take him back to Dazai.

“Stay here, and remember to protect Yosano.” Then, to Yosano: “Be ready to jump in.”

She nods resolutely, and he can feel their eyes on his back as he walks alone towards the clearing. His stomach turns, presumably from apprehension.

“Come out now,” he calls out cheerfully. “I know you’re here.”

The woods rustle, and footsteps ring out. Too heavy to be Akutagawa’s, he knows him to be light on his feet, but when he turns to face the newcomer, he pinches his lips.

“Hello there, Akutagawa.”

It is Akutagawa, but it is not.

His steps are heavier, louder, uneven, and when he appears his body is hunched over.

Port Mafia’s rabid dog, Akutagawa is sometimes called.

And as this Akutagawa snarls, showing off sharp fangs, features twisted and distorted, his eyes blood red, the color filling the pupils and cornea, Dazai figures that he finally lives up to the nickname.

It’s the first time Dazai gets to see Bram Stoker's handiwork up close and he does not like it at all. Akutagawa stares at him but there is no recognition, and the only sounds out of his mouth are beast-like growls.

He smiles ruefully. “What have they done to you? Do you even know who I am anymore?”

How dare they try to steal his student, kill him and turn him into this? Dazai will not stand for this, and the itch is stronger now, but he’s not that kind of man anymore, no matter how furious he is he will not rip Stoker’s teeth out of his mouth and he will not bury the head of a gun down Fukuchi’s throat and press the trigger over and over again.

No, he’s a different man, the kind of man that saves, and he will save him.

He waits for Akutagawa to make his move. Further down the path, Atsushi is restless, he can tell, but he does not interfere.

Then Akutagawa pounces, fast enough that Dazai flinches back, but he forces himself to stay still, fighting against the instinct that commands him to get out of the way.

The things he won’t do for his wayward student.

Akutagawa slams into him with surprising strength, knocking him off his feet and the air out of his lungs. Akutagawa pushes him back, and Dazai’s head hits the ground with a thud. He bites back a cry of pain, stars dancing in his field of vision while Akutagawa pins him on the ground, hands pressing on his chest.

He glances back to Atsushi and Yosano, to find his protégé hackles raised, pupils slit. He shakes his head in spite of the vertigo. “Don’t move," he mouths.

“That’s right,” he manages to say, struggling into Akutagawa’s grip to raise on his elbows. He succeeds, though Akutagawa rips through the collar of his shirt in the process. Akutagawa’s fingers grasp at his hair, pulling them harshly, dragging a hiss out of him.

He bites.

His fangs pierce Dazai’s throat with ease, and at first, it doesn’t hurt more than a scalpel breaking the skin. He feels his own blood run down his neck and Akutagawa’s tongue on his skin and it takes longer than Ango said it would before the ability tries to change him.

When it does, it burns .

No Longer Human always cancels ability from the outside, it’s the first time it has to do it from the inside.

“That’s right,” he chokes out again, through the pain. Dracula tries to change his nature and clashes with No Longer Human and his whole body screams and tries to push the intruding ability out . He raises his hand, rests it on the back of Akutagawa’s neck to pull him closer. “It’s almost over.”

Then the pain recedes, or maybe he’s feeling too light headed to care about it. On top of him, Akutagawa’s fangs are still deep into his neck, and to be perfectly honest it almost feels good.

Above him Akutagawa slows down and takes in a shaky breath. He raises his head, eyes still red, and maybe it doesn’t work, Dazai’s plan fails again, he can’t save him, so he pulls him down again —

He said he didn’t want to die until you acknowledged him

“You fought so hard,” he whispers, because if the one last thing he can do for him is telling him the truth then he might as well do it. “You were so strong. I’m proud of you.”

— instead of pushing him back into his neck, he kisses his lips, not minding the blood dribbling down his chin or the fangs scratching his skin.

Then, Akutagawa shakes his head. “D—” His body shivers, and he opens his eyes — two dark, human eyes, wide and afraid staring down at him. “Dazai-san— ”

“Yosano.” He calls, and he doesn't think he's loud enough. "Yosano!"

Akutagawa's body heaves again and he drags himself off Dazai, collapsing on the ground. He pushes himself up with his hand, before another shudder runs through him, dragging a strange sound out of his throat, and he promptly throws up.

Dazai pushes himself up, ignoring his own nausea. “Akutagawa,” he calls out, and his student lets out another pitiful sound as he empties his stomach in the grass. At least his heart hasn’t stopped (yet), so once Dazai sits he lays his hand on his nape again. “It’s okay.” His tongue feels pasty and everything else slightly blurry. “I’m not letting you go.”

He doesn’t think himself capable of anything more, for now.

Yosano is here before Dazai can call for her again, and Atsushi pulls him away. “He’s throwing up blood,” he hears Yosano say through the sound of Akutagawa vomiting and the strange buzzing in his ears, and what he feels is relief. “I think there is some in his lungs— you said Fukuchi cut his throat, right? and check on Dazai —” Atsushi scrambles to the first aid kit, and Yosano swears as Akutagawa suddenly goes limp.

He can’t see, because Atsushi is all over him now, and he tries to push him away. “No, wait—” Atsushi protests, “I need to clean and bandage your neck, you’re bleeding. Doctor Yosano is taking care of him, he’ll be fine. You planned for this, remember?”

“Yes,” he answers out loud, and smiles at Atsushi. “You're right, I did. He’s going to be okay. Yosano is a great doctor.”

“Are you going to let me bandage you, now?” Atsushi doesn’t wait for his answer before getting to work, grabbing disinfectant and a roll of bandages. "Don't move."

Yosano mutters more swear words under her breath. Then, she leans back, wiping her forehead. “Good,” she declares, nodding, and Dazai can breathe. “He’s fine —” she raises an eyebrow at the still unconscious Akutagawa, “—and hopefully, you’ll stay that way, or Dazai might kill me.”

Akutagawa is alive, Dazai can’t think of anything, and he throws his head back and laughs.

Ryuunosuke dreams.

It starts, he is not quite sure why, with a detached head who calls itself Bram Stoker. It has something to do with this man he’d been fighting with a weretiger, though both their names escape him for now.

(What the hell is a weretiger anyway?)

It moves along, and there is this woman— her face is wet with tears and she's saying something he can’t hear because he’s too hungry to listen, because everything around him feels wrong and now she’s screaming at him, in fear? Maybe, but she was never afraid of him before—

(Before?)

—and the screaming stop, and she is gone and he is running somewhere, looking for someone—

— someone he wants to see, but he can’t name him quite yet, not until he’s standing in front of him, smiling, eyes dark, hello there, do you even know who I am anymore — the answer is no, yes, the name forces its way through his foggy brain as he sinks his teeth into his neck and his blood gushes down his throat and his body hurts.

It's almost over

You fought so hard

Pain shakes his body as if something is trying to crawl out of him.

You were so strong

It burns.

I’m proud of you

Dazai. It’s Dazai.

The dream ends and he focuses, breathless, at Dazai, his throat bleeding, face stained with blood in a way that wakes the memories of lips on his own.

The metallic taste in his mouth is disgusting, makes him want to retch, and he’s pretty sure he does just that, before the world goes cold and dark in a scarily familiar manner.

I'm not letting you go

When he wakes up, Akutagawa is understandably confused.

Dazai opens up his third energy bar as Atsushi frets over the mafioso, trying to explain what happened in coherent sentences. Dazai does not intervene for now, watching them from where he’s sitting on the tree stump.

He has not lost too much blood. Just enough to feel light headed and vaguely sick, but not enough to pass out, which is good news. All he needs right now is some food to get him back on his feet while Yosano checks Akutagawa up.

“A vampire outbreak,” Akutagawa repeats plainly, and Atsushi energetically nods.

“— after the fight with Fukuchi, an ability user called Bram Stoker turned you into a vampire.” He frowns. “You spread it to the rest of the Mafia, through Higuchi first.”

“But I was—” He pauses. “Dead. I remember that.” His voice is strange, Atsushi winces, and Dazai ponders on the clarity of the memory.

Ponders if Akutagawa still remembers what it feels like to die.

“Yeah. You were, Fukuchi he—” It’s his turn to pause, unwilling to go into details. “You saved me,” is what he ends up with. “Everything you did on that ship saved me . The coast guard you didn’t kill bought me enough time that Fukuchi couldn’t catch up to me.” His voice wavers. “Thank you.”

And Dazai can tell that Akutagawa has no idea what to respond to that — has he ever been thanked before? Dazai doesn’t know, he doesn’t remember ever doing it, anyway. Akutagawa shifts awkwardly, picking at his hair, probably still too dazed to think of a witty retort, so Dazai decides to come to his rescue.

“We need to get back and start hunting Stoker. We have thousands of people affected by his ability; we need to get a move on. Atsushi?”

The kid immediately raises his head and takes a good whiff of the air, then grimaces. “Some are getting closer.”

“The vampires,” Akutagawa says blankly and Atsushi nods again, so Akutagawa glances at Dazai doubtfully.

“Yup. Blood suckers. We have been calling them vampires though, because it’s self-explanatory.” He stands and smiles, and Akutagawa looks back at him with eyes Dazai isn’t sure he can read properly. He wonders if Akutagawa remembers what he said (I'm not letting you go) and what he did ( kissed him ), and if he does, how much will those admissions — confessions — change between them. “We need to go. Can you stand?”

(Now is not the time to think about that, maybe once the Decay of Angels is no more, if Dazai doesn’t chicken out of it.)

He extends a hand to Akutagawa, who stares at it, trying to find the catch. It is another test. If Akutagawa remembers, Dazai thinks, then he’ll take it. If he doesn’t, he’ll get up on his own. Or maybe he’s still too weirded out to think things through.

The wait isn’t long. Akutagawa is hesitant, but he takes it, and Dazai’s fingers close tightly around his hand to pull him on his feet.

He still has fangs (seeing him experimentally run his tongue over them makes Dazai’s stomach do a little summersault that is definitely neither fear or worry) and looks like death warmed over. Stoker’s ability might take time to dissipate completely, but beyond that he’s back to normal.

Still, the marks of his latest trial are stark. Face pale, dark bruises under his eyes, and a thick scar on his throat.

“This isn’t how it was supposed to go.” It’s the closest thing to an apology he’s able to put in words.

Akutagawa scowls. “If I didn’t want to do it, I wouldn’t have.” He narrows his eyes, glaring at Atsushi. “Is the weretiger wearing my coat?”

“Uh? Oh, yes, he hasn’t left it in days, from what I was told. That's how he found you.” He taps the tip of his nose. “The smell.”

Akutagawa crosses his arms, shivering, his steps still unsure. He seems on edge — sending little glances around him. He has been dead twice, then hasn’t eaten anything consistent for days. Considering the fourth energy bar in his pocket, Dazai shrugs off his coat.

“Here.” He drops it across Akutagawa's shoulders.

“What are you—”

“You looked cold.”

And defenseless, but he will not tell him that, he won’t take it well. For Akutagawa, his coat is both a weapon and an armor, it’s natural that he would feel ill at ease without it.

Sending him a suspicious glare, he pulls it tighter around himself, and Dazai catches himself thinking, as a red spark runs across the fabric, that he quite likes this color on him.

Atsushi leads them safely through the slums, occasionally having them duck around and hide, while Akutagawa shuffles around under his coat. It takes him a minute to find the snack and he tears it open without bothering to ask Dazai if he can, looking very intently at his own shoes.

Dazai reaches out to put his arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer, and he is glad to feel him, alive and heart beating, leaning into him. “Come on now,” he says, “let’s go home.”

#bsd #bsd spoilers #dazaku #daaku #bsd akutagawa #bsd dazai #writing #cw blood #cw vomit #fix it fic

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