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𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋'𝐒 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒
𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯: 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦
𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵
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IN THE END, THEY don't end up going to the extraction point — actually, Angel is certain Dazai was going to leave Chūya fast asleep on the battlefield just to be a cheeky little shit — and instead they go to the apartment outside the Port Mafia's walls Angel started renting when she and Chūya were going through an extremely rough patch after one too many close calls on missions. The thing that stopped Dazai leaving Chūya behind, and leaving after he saw both the redhead and Angel safely here, was a sharp glare from the youngest in their midst, warning him that he still has quite a lot to face up to.
Once Angel is seated, Dazai gently lowers Chūya onto the floor, the sleeping man's head coming to rest in her lap — and it's only gently because of the way she's still glaring warningly at the brunet. The bastard then plops down across from her, wincing as his bruised muscles and the slices, grazes, and bruises on his body protest at the sudden, harsh movement. He groans and sags back against a door - the door leading to Angel's room actually — with a huff of irritation, obviously having given up on fighting her right now. Dazai's gaze moves to Chūya out of habit and takes note of the wounds covering his former partner; Angel's current partner, and lover.
"You really do care for him, don't you?" Angel murmurs, brushing messy red hair out of Chūya's sleeping face. "No matter how much you try to cover it up with agitation, you can't help but care for him."
The brunet simply watches at the white-haired girl, noting how her fingers instinctively begin to run through Chūya's long red hair, slowly ridding it of knots out of habit. She's certain that Dazai's remembering when it used to be him acting like a child and laying his head in Angel's lap, playfully demanding for her to play with his dark hair. He'd be tense at first, but, once a rhythm was established and her nails had scratched gently against his scalp, he'd relax so much he'd fall asleep on many an occasion. Right now, he has little hope of that ever happening again no matter how her fingers itch to run through his thick hair once again.
"It's the same for him, you know. He cares about you in his own way. You saw that tonight: when we realised Lovecraft didn't have an Ability and you got badly hurt, and when you pulled that stupid prank with your arm. That whole dying thing as well." Angel sends him a sharp glare at that. "You're such complete assholes to each other, Osamu, but you both care so fucking much about each other it almost nullifies that."
Dazai blinks stupidly at her. "Can you read minds with your Ability?"
"What exactly do you think my Ability is, dear Dazai?"
"I'd say something to do with angels in general, and its name does give that impression also, albeit a little more hellish."
"I can't say that I've tried using my Ability for anything other than combat or torture. Nothing's really called for it. For all I know, I could fucking heal people, or teleport. Or is that a little too angelic?"
"Give it a go." Dazai waves his right arm, the one that should be broken by all rights. "What's the worst that can happen?"
Simply giving him a pointed look in response, Angel turns her attention back to Chūya, swallowing harshly as she hesitantly holds her open palms over his battered body. Not knowing how to even attempt healing, she lets out a calming breath and think about what she knows healing wounds as bad as these to look like: scabbed over and gross for a few days, or weeks at most, before becoming scars that are nearly indiscernible from flesh. In an instant, Angel's head feels a little light and she feels drained, as though she's had too many sparring rounds with Chūya and Ryūnosuke without taking a breather.
At Dazai's startled expression, Angel looks down to find no sign of blood or a wound on Chūya's flesh, and her lips part in shock. Both bewildered and delighted, she reaches out to Dazai and attempts the same thing. This time she takes note of how the grazes on his body heal exponentially quicker than they're meant to, and her eyes follow the dried blood as it turns back into liquid and goes back into his body, the wounds sealing once every last drop spilt is back in their rightful vein. A wave of dizziness hits Angel like a brick wall this time and she hunches over, trying her best not to jostle Chūya and wake him.
"Angel!"
"I guess healing people takes a physical toll on me. I feel dizzy, Osamu. So dizzy... So tired..." Leaning back against the wall, Angel notices Dazai's somewhat scared expression, and it looks very weird with his dark Port Mafia eyes. "Heh, haven't seen that look for a while. Not for almost seven years. Been so long without you, you shitty fucking mackerel, and it was hell. Wish I could hate you..."
"You're delirious. This is more than just your Ability's healing power draining you, something else is wrong."
"'M fine, mister. Jus' need sleep."
Dazai's dark eyes scan over Angel's body before coming to rest upon her left side, narrowing slightly at the dark patch before blowing wide. Her hand comes up to rest on the bloodied material and a wry smile graces her face, wishing she could have kept pretending as though it was just Chūya's blood from where she carried him here, but the bastard has seen right through her. It's only a few seconds later that Dazai's lithe fingers are gently pulling the stuck material off Angel's skin, ripping a larger hole into the side of her stupid black dress and revealing what lies beneath.
Angel doesn't have to see it to know just what it looks like. She can feel every inch of the blasted thing with little trouble, and she has no trouble telling that, without taking care of the nasty wound, she's going to bleed out on her apartment floor in a matter of hours. That thought makes her smile slightly, a hazy sensation of delight and giddiness bubbling happily in her gut at such an idea that has been pretty much impossible up until now. After all, Chūya has been there to stop Angel from dying every other time, and now he's passed out with his head in her lap.
The only person who can stop her from dying this time is Dazai.
"You need to heal yourself!" Dazai snaps, letting worry bleed into his voice. "Angel, come on!"
"It won't work like that. No point in even trying, my love." Angel shakes her head and smiles. "There's no getting out of this one so easily."
No matter how much pressure Dazai puts on her side, it's not enough to stop the steady overflow, the blood spilling out from between his fingers in a more than desperate desire to escape. His expression turns even more desperate than the blood fleeing her body and, through muffled sounds, Angel makes out him yelling for Chūya to wake up — to help him; to help her. Angel's vision begins to blur and swim, spots of black and grey moving across her usually perfect eyes, her head feeling lighter than before and her tongue feeling as though it's simply lead and not the strongest muscle in her body.
Despite the way her muscles blatantly refuse to cooperate with her, for some reason my fingers are still running through Chūya's hair, nails lightly scraping against his scalp and making him hum in comfort despite his sleeping state. Angel is more than glad he's still asleep right now, that he's not awake to see her dying right in front of him; to see her dying from a wound he inadvertently caused when in his Corrupted form.
She doesn't want to imagine how much pain and guilt would be in those beautiful blue eyes once he realises that it was him and that monstrous Lovecraft behind Angel's fading life. He doesn't deserve to be forced into carrying the weight of her life any longer no matter how much he tells her it's nothing he can't handle; something he can stomach on top of all the hurt she has caused for him.
"Chūya, wake up!" Dazai is losing himself, becoming a rabid animal the more Angel continues to fade in and out of consciousness. "Angel, you stay the hell awake! Keep your eyes open, you hear me?! Chūya! Get your lazy ass up before she dies! She's like this because of us!"
Gritting her teeth, Angel manages to weakly punch Dazai, her eyes holding very little heat. "Don't you dare... blame yourself... for this... Don't blame... Chūya... Not your fault..."
"Chūya!"
The red haired man on Angel's lap stirs at the sound of his name being screamed at the top of the brunet's lungs, his blue eyes confused and sleepy as he takes in his surroundings, but sharp when he hears his former partner pleading for Angel to stay awake. She smiles softly at Chūya and brushes her cold, numb fingers against his cheek, watching as she leaves streaks of blood behind, and humming when his eyes turn horrified once he realises what's going on. Chūya's bare hands tremble, hovering above where Dazai's bloodstained and bandaged hands are pressed against Angel's side, a shaking curse leaving his lips as he forces himself away from the pair to go in search of medical supplies.
Angel faintly hears Dazai yelling for him to check her bathroom and Chūya barking back at him that he's already in there. Her vision whites out for a moment as pain shoots through her side, body jerking against Dazai's hands and a strangled guttural, animalistic sound of pain leaving her lips, startling the brunet. There are suddenly four hands on her body, pushing her against the wall at her back, their owners' voices ringing out and telling her to stay still; to stop moving. It's only later Angel finds out that Dazai had poured antiseptic on her side to kill whatever shit got into the muscle-deep wound, Chūya having found it under the sink in her bathroom.
Everything passes in a blur after that, but Angel vividly remembers Chūya's bright blue eyes and vibrant red hair, not to mention Dazai's honey-brown eyes and dark hair. Her next clear memory is waking to a dimly lit room — that she recognises as her bedroom in the apartment — and two bodies of heat laying on either side of her. Already knowing which belongs to who, she smiles softly and briefly closes her eyes, remembering the last time she was like this with the two of them — before everything went to hell in a handbasket with fucking Mimic all those years ago, and Dazai left Chūya and Angel behind.
Angel lifts her left hand and brushes her knuckles across Chūya's face, watching as his eyes open slightly and a small relieved smile graces his tired face, his eyes briefly closing a moment later with a relieved sigh. Pushing up onto one arm, an amused smile grows on his face and, turning her head to the right, Angel takes note of how Dazai is pretty much hugging her arm to his chest, brows pulled together into a frown even in sleep. Reaching across her body, ignoring the tugging sensation on her left side, Angel smooths the furrow out by gently running her fingers through his dark hair. His eyes fly open and he stares at her with bewilderment until he remembers what led to the three of them being in this predicament.
"You're awake," Dazai mumbles sleepily, his voice sounding somewhat gravelly. "You had me worried, Angel. Well, both of us. I'm pretty sure Chūya was crying."
"You bastard," Chūya mutters, making Angel smile in amusement. "That was you! You wouldn't stop blubbering until her fever broke an hour ago!"
Turning her attention to the feisty redhead, Angel raises an eyebrow. "And how long exactly have I been out?"
"Well, it's around 2am right now, so I'd say—"
Dazai cuts Chūya off. "Four hours. You're healing quite fast. Unusually so."
Chūya narrows his eyes. "Speaking of healing, neither Dazai or I are hurt, and I'm sure we sustained quite some damage from that fight."
Ignoring their mutual protests, and Chūya's question, Angel sits up and, taking note of how she currently has no shirt on, she sighs and rubs her eyes. Expecting there to be bandages around her middle, Angel finds herself surprised when she only finds a rather large medical patch covering where the wound is on her side, above her hip but below her ribcage. Gently prodding it, Angel recoils at the pain and a simple grunt leaves her lips, there not being enough pain to cause her muscles to spasm and pained gasps to sound. Looking back at the males behind her, Angel raises an eyebrow in question, curious as to whether or not they have an explanation.
Dazai huffs. "Your accelerated healing may have something to do with you having figured out the healing aspect of your Ability. To tell you the truth, angel, you healed both myself and Chūya from rather extensive damage that would have taken weeks to heal properly in only a matter of seconds, and that may have kickstarted your own healing process. While you may not be able to heal yourself the same you do others, your body appears to heal at a much faster rate than it used to."
Angel shoves the blanket off her body and climbs off the bed, hearing the pair behind her yell out exclamations of shock and clamour to cover their eyes. Looking down, Angel finds herself in only a pair of underwear, making her roll my eyes at the idiots. They've seen her stripped bare before, and they're complaining about her having on a pair of underwear. Turning to give the pair a disbelieving look, Angel heads to the dresser and pulls out an oversized band shirt, tugging it on before throwing her arms wide and giving the idiots an expectant look. To their credits, neither of them go completely red at the sight, but there's still a rosy glow on their cheeks.
"You're both such fucking prudes," Angel teases, plopping back down onto her bed and smiling at the pair. "You've both seen me in worse states, and you're acting as if a pair of damn underwear is the end of the bloody world! What's up with that?"
Instead of answering, both Chūya and Dazai glare at the other and begin to argue about what Angel's best feature is, much to her amusement. Honestly, they can be such children at times and that makes it difficult to remember that they're both actually almost three years older than the white-haired girl. Leaving them to their debate, Angel heads into the kitchen and makes them some tea, adding some of her stashed whiskey to the mugs before making her way back into the bedroom where they're still going at it. Actually, they're pretty damn close to having a pillow fight in preference to their usual fist fight, obviously not wanting to destroy her apartment and risk angering her.
Calling their names, Angel climbs back onto the bed and holds out their mugs of tea. Dazai's eyes sparkle with delight and he abandons his pillow in favour of the bandage design mug, humming in delight as he breathes in the steam. Chūya grins and happily takes the bright red mug with his name stamped on it in black kanji, a satisfied sound leaving his throat in the form of a groan the moment he takes a sip. Sitting between the content Twin Dark, Angel sips at her own tea, mind running through the last conversation she and Dazai had before they headed out into the middle of nowhere to get Q.
"Hey, Dazai, Chūya, I know this is out of the blue, but..." Angel's voice trails off and she stares down at her swirling tea. "Do you both remember that night five years ago?"
Dazai chokes on his current mouthful of tea, obviously not expecting Angel to bring it up now, and she manages to move out of the way as Chūya's mouthful comes spraying out, dousing the brunet across from him in hot tea. They both stare down at her with wide, startled eyes and she simply continues to watch her tea, hands tightening around her ashen grey mug as she anxiously waits for their verbal responses. Dazai clears his throat and wipes Chūya's tea off his face, making a strange sound as he licks his lips and realises that the redhead has more whiskey in his tea than himself. Chūya scratches the back of his neck and sighs, obviously not entirely sure how to respond to her question.
"It's a yes or a no," Angel informs with an emotionless voice. "Either you remember or you don't, but, by your reactions, you clearly do remember and just don't want to admit it out loud." Having a sip of her tea, she sighs and bites the inside of her lip. "Was it really such a bad thing that you don't want to remember it?"
Chūya jolts. "Kami, angel, no. It's not like that."
"No, not at all," Dazai agrees.