Chapter Text
17
Dazai didn’t care where Chuuya went.
They spent most of the time together anyway. They practically lived on top of each other, pushing the boundaries of personal space whenever they were together, pushing buttons , time apart was necessary.
Chuuya had plenty of people he insisted he’d much rather see, and Dazai? He had his drinking buddies. Fuzz buddies.
That being said, a diligent owner knew where their dog was at all times. Mori himself kept a close eye on the two of them still, as if they’d unite and kill him. Now, Dazai couldn’t see any benefit in that for the time being, and he and Chuuya were more likely to fight about it than “unite” and get rid of him. Testing the strength of Chuuya’s loyalty was always a spectacle, but for now, they could easily agree that killing Mori was a stupid thing to do.
Sidetracked.
Owners knew where their pets were, but Mori didn’t care how often Chuuya went out as long as he completed his missions. Same for Dazai, except the fact that if the air changed, he’d set Chuuya on him before he could even begin an attempt. What a hassle.
On the subject, Daazi had recognised a pattern he was…not worried about, simply aware of.
It hadn’t been too regular, but it was a glass of wine extra on game night ( a whiskey for himself, just one ), however many behind closed doors with Ane-san- he knew she wouldn’t let him get rowdy. Treating subordinates at Mafia owned bars, and should he dare venture amongst the general public, whatever table Chuuya would sit at, it would be brimming with drinks by the night’s end. He’d make conversation with a wall, the little attention-seeking puppy.
Not to say that Dazai was concerned. It wasn’t his business anyway.
Well , like a large chunk of things including Chuuya, it was made Dazai’s problem. Granted, he could’ve ignored the call from the bartender, it was a public bar this time, so it had to have been Chuuya who gave them the number. That, or every bar in Yokohama had been warned about the little firebomb and had the brunet’s number on speed dial in case the tiny terror made its presence known.
He only went because the woman on the phone sounded very beautiful. He was right, of course. He had an ear for these things.
The first thing he did upon arrival was apologise for the state of his partner. There weren’t many people left there to raise an eyebrow at him and his bandages, this bar didn’t seem to be an all-night destination given he was called so they could close, so spotting the red hair was not an issue.
She didn’t seem particularly bothered by an exotic customer, the job required an acceptance of these kinds of things, chuckling and pointing out his own appearance. It was an easy enough conversation to have, she seemed quite the charming woman. Pity the chibi had rubbed off on her first. Transmitted slug germs. Ick.
“He’s a pretty one,” she hummed, wiping down the counter around the face-down mafioso. “I’m not surprised everyone was trying to get in his pants.”
“I warn him about strangers but he never listens,” he sighs, collapsing on the stool beside him. He wasn’t in his work clothes, but the outfit was still tacky, topped off with the god awful hat. He would really never learn. “I can’t believe he even left looking like this. Obviously he frightened all your customers away,” he scoffed.
“On the contrary. He was quite popular.”
Of course he was. “Nevertheless, I’d compensate everyone if I could,” he reached for the chibi’s wallet, tucked into his waistband, and removed it without jostling his partner at all. He thumbed through the contents, placing most of it on the counter. “Keep the change.”
Her eyebrows disappeared behind her hair as she stared, unsure of what to make of it. Dazai only smiled and turned his attention back to the chibi. Now, how to wake him…
Used water last week. Alarms in his ears the week before.
He eyed the swing of the bartender’s hips, then honed in on the cloth still in her hand. Respectfully, he hadn’t laid all over the counter like an inconsiderate chibi. A grin grew involuntarily. That’s how I can wake him up.
He poked at his shoulder with varying pressure until a groan that turned to a cleared throat, and a hand swatted at him without raising his head.
“Wakey wakey, little Chuu,” he sang, not ceasing the poking, waiting for the hand to move before resuming.
A slurred “ fuck off ” drew a laugh from Yumena , he’d discovered.
“Language,” he scolded lightly. “We’re in polite company.”
Dazai could hear the gears in his head working overtime, trying to figure out what he meant. So unaware. So obvious. Stiff as a board.
“Our lovely Yumena is trying to clean the bar,” he accented her name, sending her the eye before focusing back on flaming hair, “-and there’s a very rude chibi blocking her way. You’re stopping her from going home.”
Amidst bolting upright, apologies streaming from his mouth and a very obvious flush on his cheeks, Dazai took in the real state of his partner. It wasn’t the worst, certainly. He seemed lucid enough, and despite the very obvious attraction from Yumena, he remained, as per usual, blatantly oblivious.
Standing and rounding behind his partner, Dazai poked his sides, causing him to jolt. “Upsies, puppy?”
“I can get up, bandages,” he scoffed, pushing himself upwards and staggering slightly. He mumbled when he had to use the countertop so he wouldn’t lose balance.
Sharp eyes glinted in the low light of the bar. “That’s what they all say,” she mused. Apparently she wasn’t too bothered to have her conversation interrupted. Chuuya’s “mysterious appeal” ( so many people had such terrible taste ) disappeared once he opened his mouth. Too many considerate words.
“He’s a fighter,” he sighed, drawing the sympathetic look he was fishing for. “Massive pain in my ass.”
Chuuya’s graceless snort was way over an appropriate volume. “As if! You’re far more of a pain!”
“And yet I was nice enough to come pick you up so late. How ungrateful.”
“ Eat a dick, Osamu .”
Dazai barked a laugh.
The black-haired beauty behind the bar took the receding figure of the redhead as free reign to begin her own flirtation. As much as Dazai didn’t mind, he was intrigued by the idea of watching Chuuya fall face first, so he was quick to finish the conversation with as much interest as Yumena had in him. It was only fair to return advances from such a lady.
She wrote her number on the bandages on his arm. The ink bled slightly, but that was more an issue with the shitty quality of the bandages than anything. He’d have to pilfer the good kind from Chuuya’s cabinet tonight.
Chuuya hadn’t even reached the chauffeur Dazai arrived in by the time the brunet exited. It wasn’t good for someone so small to wander around so late. It would be more of a shame for the unlucky person who came across him, admittedly. They’d be picking the gravel from Chuuya’s boot from between their teeth if they tried anything, but the idea of- ugh, Chuuya would make such a big deal out of it. Dazai was mitigating, better yet, solving a problem before it happened.
“If you fall on your ass, I’m not picking you up.”
“ Whatever .”
“Famous last words.”
“I’ll make you fucking eat them.”
Dazai fought the smirk, allowing it for only a moment before stifling it completely. “Mhmm.”
He watched his partner struggle to get to the door, lean his hand against it and dirty the side with fingerprints. He watched him struggle to open the door without the kind of force that’d rip it off completely. He watched as his puppy stared at the seat he was meant to get in, smoke coming out of his ears from the mental effort it took to decide how he was approaching the problem.
Rather than drag out the inevitable, the brunet did everyone a service. “The things I do for you,” he murmured, easing him into the car despite protest.
“I didn’t ask you to come,” came the response. So he wasn’t completely shit-faced then. Small mercies, he supposed.
“Of course. That’s why our beautiful bartender called me to come get you, hm?”
Chuuya was silent for a moment, frowning, but making no comment about Dazai leaning over him to put his seatbelt on. “...she did?”
Dazai paused and took in his partner’s face again. Maybe he was missing something. He didn’t look shit-faced. He was a lot more manageable, if not a little too lucid for Dazai’s tastes. There was a chance Chuuya would remember if he fucked with him tonight. “Would I lie?”
Even now, the redhead’s blunt expression was as clear as ever, though he backtracked a little when he spoke, tilting his head back with a crease between his eyebrows. “Although…dumb thing to lie about.”
“Why are you smarter when you’re drunk, little fairy?” He hummed, leaning out of his partner’s space and closing the door before receiving an answer. Looking up at the sky, it was a nice enough night for a walk, so it was a shame that he had to spend the rest of it, or at least a portion of it, looking after the chibi.
Despite only a handful of seconds passing, Chuuya looked closer to sleep already once Dazai settled and the journey began. With any luck, the redhead would fall asleep and start drooling like a baby. Great blackmail material.
Getting him out of the car had as much fanfare as getting him in had, all muttering and swaying. Dazai was forced to catch him a number of times despite Chuuya protests that he could move just fine. Notably not using his ability, which was to be expected.
His partner complained about how cold his hands were, claiming to feel them through his clothing when they landed on his arms. It was a mercy, really, to move him against the wall of the elevator so he wouldn't fall on his ass. Dazai, in turn, complained about his hands getting clammy from how disgustingly warm the dog was without moving away. A normal occurrence.
It was obvious upon entry to the penthouse that the redhead was keen to get straight to bed. His usual threats sounded dull and lacked the bite Dazai was fishing for. That’s why he tightened his grip around his elbow as he began to retreat further into the home.
“You’ll kill me tomorrow morning if I don’t make you change,” he crossed his arms at the indignant chibi when he was shaken off. “Dying by your hand is the last thing I want.”
The redhead pulled a face that Dazai wasn’t quick enough to interpret before it changed again. So indecisive. “I want a shower.”
Dazai levelled him with a look that even in his drunken chibi haze, he’d be able to decipher. “If you want to smash your head, be my guest. I’m not helping you.”
He began muttering to himself while trying to undo the buttons on his shirt, Dazai sweeping past with his coat billowing behind him. He wanted a drink of water, and the apartment had it filtered. He got his cup out, and stopped, listening to the growled curses and ruffling of clothing, then looked down at the cup he’d placed on the counter.
He spent more time in this apartment than his shipping container. Chuuya had been insistent, and as long as Chuuya was doing all the work, waiting in an elevator was preferable to stalking across an acrid shipping yard. Come to think of it, Chuuya looked much the same now as he did when he’d arrived at Dazai's humble abode- though, he suspected there may have also been something more than the smell at play there, namely Chuuya’s ability to care about literally anything. Even his rotten partner didn’t deserve to be decaying out there, barely protected from the elements.
Well, if Dazai had anything to say about it, the only problem was a few leaks when the weather got bad. And the noise, maybe, it could get very loud, but even then, he didn’t mind the patter of rain against the metal. He didn’t sleep too much anyway.
“Pour me one.”
“Pour it yourself.”
“Stop being an asshole.”
“Use your ability.”
A pillow flew close enough to his head that his hairs caught it. It smacked cupboards behind him with a significant thump. “You know my ability acts up like this,” he growled from the couch.
“I didn’t see any issue with it.” Was he being a little shit? Yes. Was it his job? Also yes. He had to suffer Chuuya’s company. Chuuya had to suffer his.
“I’ll make it your business when it flies at you so hard it takes your fucking head off.”
“Chuuya wouldn’t do that,” he said with full confidence.
“Not for a lack of wanting to. ”
The brunet filled his cup and savoured the taste of decent water before responding. “How cruel…you’re a nasty drunk.”
Another thump was enough evidence of Chuuya’s new residence on the couch. There weren’t many things that would get him up now. A threat to the wider universe, at a stretch. He ought to pour water on him again, that got him up quickly last time.
They were also both drenched by the time they arrived for their executive meeting. No-one asked.
As he’d surveyed the apartment, the idea solidified in his head. Chuuya was definitely the most interesting thing here. Not the expensive paintings or furniture, but the chibi. A chibi that happened to house a god, that happened to look like he belonged in middle school.
That looked astounding on the battlefield.
Chuuya was hissing back at him when his expression froze mid-sentence.
“Looking a little green there, chibbiko,” he snorted.
The returning “ shut the fuck up ” was muffled behind a gloved hand, planted against his mouth as if it would do anything. He wobbled to his feet and walked at an increasingly fast pace to his bedroom, to the bathroom attached.
… no door slam.
Huh. So he was allowed in tonight.
He took his time waltzing in, pranks springing to mind with every object he spied. Apparently in over two years, Chuuya hadn’t learned his lesson yet. He knew it well, though he never enforced it.
No entry permitted for Dazai Osamu.
… there had been exceptions.
He wrinkled his nose at the smell upon arriving. Chuuya had definitely looked better. Dazai said as much, and the middle finger was half-hearted.
“Such a lightweight,” he murmured, yet got to work for their usual routine. As predicted, his partner was on his knees on cold tiles, steadying himself over the bowl with glazed over eyes.
From behind, the brunet’s hands came to Chuuya’s forehead, sweeping away flyaways and lingering with cold fingers against a burning forehead. Nimble fingers glided through smooth hair, pulling it back enough and tying it in a ponytail with an elastic he kept on his wrist.
He wondered errantly if it caught Yumena’s attention. She didn’t appear particularly bothered. Confident, then.
It would’ve been embarrassing if anyone had seen Dazai’s absentminded teasing of Chuuya’s hair between his fingers as his mind wandered. All of a sudden, thinking about Yumena felt a little… eh.
He had someone to entertain him already, and it was far more interesting than the prospect of a good time.
“Any charmers tonight?” He spoke over the quiet struggle. “If you got this drunk, someone had to have taken your fancy. Multiple someones, perhaps?”
The violent spitting was answer enough.
“There must’ve been someone. Perhaps Yumena slid you one too many.” And oh, that is an interesting reaction. “I knew you liked her,” he teased. “You should’ve seen the look on your face-”
A loud groan cut him off, lengthening for as long as Dazai kept speaking. “I didn’t even drink that much.”
“So it was her?” I should really keep my distance, slug germs and all.
“Dn’t remember,” he slurred into the faint echo of the bowl.
Blurry memory, couldn’t recall faces, burning up. And Chuuya wasn’t drunk enough for that, Dazai was sure he’d eventually started turning down or passing off drinks. They had a mission coming up, after all.
Oh. His drink had been spiked.
.
.
.
“This is what happens when you let creepy men buy you drinks, Chuuya. Never heard of stranger danger?”
Something that sounded vaguely like “ full of shit ” drifted past his ears, but he ignored it. “I’m not blind,” he mumbled, spitting into the bowl and scrunching up his face. Narrowed eyes, headache already.
“So you know and you still drink them?” A very small part of him insisted he get up and leave Chuuya to deal with the consequences himself, be a victim of his own stupidity, Dazai had done his part, far more than he needed to do in reality , but he didn’t feel like moving, and he didn’t feel like dealing with that yet. “So stupid. Are you really that desperate? Stingy? Your wallet is bottomless -”
“Just shut the fuck up, you insufferable bastard. I don’t need to hear this from you.”
There was something sour on his tongue, then something metallic. He should go make sure the bed is fine. Maybe lay on it and wait his partner out. Grab a bucket on the way. Leave.
Before he got up, however, just as he finished his thoughts, Chuuya’s voice broke through in all its rough glory. “Come here.”
Dazai blinked. “Dogs don’t order around their masters.”
Bare hands gripped the side of the toilet seat harder, and he could tell Chuuya was reigning himself back from cracking the porcelain. In an inebriated state, in any state that wasn’t Chuuya’s regular, his powers seemed to have a mind of their own. It was a reminder, really, of the immense control and self-restraint Chuuya had despite his impulsiveness at times.
“ Mackerel ,” he hissed through his teeth, looking awfully pitiful and awfully small there, staring up at him with defiant eyes.
… Dazai thought he was better than taking pity on tiny things. That was for normal people, for kittens and- oh, well, puppies. Sure. Whatever.
The brunet backed himself to the wall next to the toilet and slid down into a squat. He could see just how clammy his partner was, face paler than usual and dark rings surrounding his eyes. Chuuya had left in normal peak condition, and returned like this?
Had Yumena watched his drink get spiked?
He seemed to be asking for something, but Dazai hadn’t figured it out just yet. A normal amount of irritation, agitated, tired- all a recipe for a certain beanpole to get his ass kicked, but apparently he was a glutton for punishment. The things he did for Chuuya, indeed. How troublesome.
With a shiver that racked his body, Chuuya did something Dazai was not expecting. A familiar grasp against his wrist, the familiar heat against bandages, and his hand was drawn to the exposed pale skin on Chuuya’s neck.
The choker was a curse for a moment, before Dazai remembered himself and hummed in confusion. He didn’t get an answer for another few minutes.
“It’s not just holding the hair back.”
Another few minutes.
“...don’t make me ask.”
Dazai blinked, eyes glassy from the lack of. Huh. He must’ve got caught up in his head. What was he thinking about? He couldn’t remember. “Neh, chibi?”
“Just-” he let out a long sigh. “Just activate your damn ability already…I feel like shit.”
A few precious seconds slipped past as the brunet processed that information. He did activate his ability when Chuuya was in this state, but he’d never explicitly asked for it, and never verbally admitted, or close enough to it, that it brought any kind of relief or comfort.
Was Arahabaki particularly loud when he was drunk? Perhaps. Maybe the chill of No Longer Human offset the feverish heat. More likely was that Chuuya was mindful, always was , of a malfunctioning ability. He wanted to be sure nothing could happen.
There was only one person who could ensure that.
Oh well. His hand had rested in worse places.
“Your ability feels warmer than usual.”
“What…the fuck, Chuuya.”
The flush from the bar, the embarrassment , returned. “Don’t make it weird!”
Congratulating Chuuya for not spewing in the past few minutes should’ve been his first priority, but his mind latched instantly, so it’s true, it’s the cold he needs. “I’m not weird. You’re the one making it weird. I’m being perfectly professional and weighing up the pros and cons.”
Blue eyes widened to something incredulous, and it twinged Dazai’s gut, damnit. “You serious?” His voice was an octave higher than usual, more than offended, it was…shocked?
Why did it feel like he’d been punched? “What?” He said dumbly.
Attuned to his partner well , Dazai felt it as obviously as touch when Chuuya’s breathing pattern changed. Felt it at the tip of his fingers.
Not angry.
Not sad.
Upset?
Frustrated? No.
Afr-
His hand was shaken off, the sound of movement all Dazai could hear. It wasn’t a choice, but logically it’s what Dazai needed to be listening For. Discomfort-
He brought his hand back up and fiddled with Chuuya’s shirt collar, the redhead hunching and growling in response. Before the vicious puppy could bite and yap at him, he slipped his hand beneath the fabric to lay on bare skin.
Chuuya’s breathing evened out very quickly, although… that’s active hesitation. Is he trying to deceive me?
“Don’t get the wrong idea-”
“Do you even know what the wrong idea is?”
Only Dazai had any remotely close idea of Chuuya’s distaste for the fact that he had to rely on someone else. His progra- conditioning was still at its core survival , and given the objective horror his partner had been through, that wasn’t a surprise.
It wasn’t a surprise his partner couldn’t relax. That he was a workaholic. It worked for him. Maybe it was just how he was. But his Chuuya relaxed against his hand and his hand only . They both knew that. Why was he trying to hide something they already knew?
“Feels okay?”
“You don’t care about that.”
Dazai’s lips tightened to a line, resisting the urge to spit back vitriol, he was human too, don’t you know? They had their limits with each other. He focused on the feeling of his hand against skin. “If I didn’t care how you felt about the state of yourself, I wouldn’t bother saving you from Corruption. You’d be as suicidal as me, and we both know that isn’t true. So?”
.
.
.
“So what?”
“ No Longer Human. I know you feel relief.”
“Well, it can’t exactly feel good when I’m coming down from that ,” he scoffed, apparently voluntarily turning his head to the toilet bowl. Dazai was offended that the little punk was more interested in looking at his regurgitated whatever than at him.
“Why are you denying it?”
“I’m not!” He raised his voice, sighing and hunching a little near the bowl. “Your ability just feels different, okay?! It’s a haze of pain and- and more fucking pain. So when you activate it when I’m not like that, I-”
I savour it because one day, it might-
… why does someone larger than life fear himself so much? “You said it feels warmer.”
“Something like that.” Blue was grey and it shouldn’t look like that.
“And it’s…nicer, that way?”
Chuuya looked so incredibly young , like a year ago when he gave up his everything. When the feeling first wormed its way inside of Dazai- the arctic cold concern about his partner, the exact opposite of the warmth that his humanity brought him.
He looked so unsure. He was sobering up, and the brunet…didn’t feel great about that. Maybe I should make him drink some more when he gets up.
“Yes.”
Yes?
“It feels good. I can’t focus on it when I’m coming down from Corruption . And…you don’t do it unless I’m recovering or unless I’m drunk, or…” when I ask for it, because it’s rare and we never talk about it.
“Warmer? Colder?”
The fight left his partner, but he didn’t look resigned now, an improvement. “Just…it’s too hard to explain.” I’m in pain.
So I just have to know Chuuya well enough to know what he means.
That means future repeats.
Oh well. He’d spent his time in worse places. With worse company. How oddly freeing to admit.
He tugged at his arm questioningly. Dazai cocked his head.
“Change them.”
He peered down at where Chuuya’s hand had caught his forearm. “They’re new.”
“Change them.”
“...you’re being unreasonable.”
The grip tightened.
“You are such a bossy drunk, chibi, honestly.” And he got rid of them anyway, Chuuya making no move to watch him change the bandages. The number was lost in the bin and there was no mourning period.
Was she in on it?
Dazai whistled lowly at the numerous rolls neatly lined in a box. Organised. Huh. “Chibi’s not very confident in himself.”
“Yeah, because I’m the one who needs them- ” he was stopped by a burp, hand shooting out to the bowl again just in case he needed to move quickly, which Dazai took as a sign that the universe also hated chibi.
…that didn’t feel great to think about. Chuuya didn’t ask to suffer as he did.
His cheeks weren’t warm, they weren’t.
-
-is what he was still saying fifteen minutes later.
“Time to sleep, little Chuu,” he’d hummed, the redhead settled in the bed and fighting sleep. He really was like a toddler. Excitable and nearly drooling while falling asleep. He needed a photo-
-is what he would’ve been thinking about if Chuuya wasn’t doing his damndest to throw him completely off-kilter.
Chuuya reached his hand up, Dazai’s eye following the movement, judging his sobriety by how long it took to reach its target, which was apparently the hair over his bandages. Still drunk.
His partner was touchy after Corruption , but touching him at any other time just sang of being touch-starved. They both had their issues. Hm. He’d been quite…slow on the uptake tonight. Maybe he should crash on the couch. Couldn’t have his fatigue affecting his processing so much. How embarrassing.
Still thinking about Yumena. He’d empty Chuuya’s bin. It was likely a fake number he’d been given anyway.
“I’m going now,” he announced to the single-man audience, voice considerately quiet.
A high-pitched noise sounded, something from the back of Chuuya’s throat, before he managed to speak audibly. “Wait…”
Dazai knew it was likely the lack of coordination, but it didn’t stop him from freezing as the other pulled him down with more grace than any drunk should have, soft lips kissed the very corner of his, warm breath fanning over the area as Chuuya pulled away as slowly as he’d approached.
And fell asleep.
Son of a bitch.
Those lips on... him, not any of the people from the bar. Not any of the people Chuuya hadn’t turned down despite it being well within his capacity. What was he looking for that night?
What didn’t Dazai have?
-
“Turns out our little bartender was looking to bed me.”
“When aren’t people trying to bed you?” He muttered, adjusting his hat.
“Pot, kettle, black,” he responded. “Informant for a rival organisation. So upsetting when work gets in the way of a good time. It’s a shame, she was awfully pretty.”
Chuuya scoffed. “I have eyes, asshole. Sounds to me like she got lucky. She probably would’ve caught something.”
Ignoring the insults, he continued on. “Ah, but wasn’t Chuuya looking for a lay last night?”
“ Huh?! ”
The brunet sighed, eyeing the car they were approaching, the one that was meant to take them to the mission site. “You didn’t tell me how many people bought you drinks last night. Surely you were waiting for someone who caught your eye.”
The redhead still looked offended. It didn’t mean much at this point, though, that was his perpetual state in the presence of Dazai Osamu. “I wasn’t looking for anything, you presumptuous bitch.”
“Yet you accused me of the same thing. Also, congratulations on saying that word correctly.”
“ No, I-! Fucking whatever,” he spat, walking ahead.
… huh .
The car was large enough to have enough room to sit opposite each other, and the redhead pressed himself into the furthest corner away from Dazai. Weird. I don’t recall pissing him off any more than usual.
Ah, he must still be embarrassed about last night.
Well that wouldn’t do, because Dazai was bored , and the journey to their destination was long , and he needed entertainment. His dog needed to snap out of it pronto.
“You look upset,” he noted.
“Congratulations Einstein.”
“You know I’m going to bug you until you tell me.”
.
.
.
Oh. “Oh. I get it.”
Chuuya glared before averting his eyes again.
“You’re so naive. The age difference doesn’t bother me-”
“Well it’s not on you to make those fucking decisions.” Dazai thought he caught “ fucking creeper, ” tacked to the end, but he wasn’t entirely sure. He was far busier studying the conflict on his partner’s face.
It bothers you that much? “You agreed that she was pretty, though.”
He scoffed. “And?”
Dazai nestled further into his seat, puffing his cheeks out for a moment. “What’s the problem?”
‘You’re a- we’re kids- ”
“At a bar. People go to bars to be seen , chibi.”
Orange strands swayed as he shook his head. “ No. Some people go to bars for the opposite reason and you know it.”
They go so no-one will look twice. No-one knows your name. They’ll forget your face by tomorrow morning.
“Her-”
“Yumena,” he interjected helpfully. It clearly wasn’t appreciated if his partner’s sneer was anything to go off of.
“It’s like…like Oda coming onto you.” Chuuya’s shiver looked theatrical, and yet the disgust on his face was genuine.
“...I have no such inclinations with Odasaku,” he said slowly, in case his partner was having trouble comprehending it. Did he?
.
.
.
No. Definitely not.
“-that’s not the point!”
The brunet zoned out for a moment, imprinting the expression in front of him to memory. He knew Chuuya could be protective of his pack of dogs, but he still found it difficult to believe that…that somehow, for some reason, he’d been smuggled into it.
“-Oda would agree with me,” was when he returned to the present. “A minor doesn’t consent. ”
“We murder people,” he said bluntly, still intrigued by Chuuya’s anger, even more at his mention of Odasaku, something very rare for him. It was hard to be annoyed when it was so… human. This brand of protectiveness suited Chuuya very much, loud, insistent, just quite on brand. Yet, the younger was still surprised by what flowed out of his partner’s mouth next.
“I’ll murder her. ”
“...I didn’t take you for the possessive type.” Liar. Only the best dog for me. None other.
“I burned those fucking bandages,” he added, as though one blow wasn’t enough. “The whole bin. ”
Oops, forgot to empty it. He raised his eyebrows, almost concerned for how embarrassed the redhead would feel when he looked back on this conversation. Dazai would be the one dealing with the fallout, after all. “Are you sure you’re not still drunk?”
“Fuck you for letting her close like that. You probably knew she was an informant before you walked into that damn bar.”
“I did not.” He did not.
Chuuya bit his tongue for a second, something Dazai could easily refute likely sitting there. “Whatever.”
Dazai gaze swept over his partner's form thoughtfully, and appreciative , a grin settling on his lips that he made no effort to hide. “I love you too, Chuuya.”
“Say it again and I’ll slit your throat.”
…the word “love” always seemed awfully shallow in the face of their bond.