Chapter Text
Atsushi’s pleasant stretch is ruined by the disgustingly smug aura radiating beside him. Without looking over, he grumbles, “No,” and rests his head onto his folded arms, face down, eyes never opening.
“No?”
“Whatever you were about to say. No.”
Dazai nudges his chair in an attempt to make Atsushi look up from his desk. When Atsushi tenses and doesn’t move, he huffs. “Jokes on you, “no” is not a reasonable response to what I was going to say.”
“I don’t care.”
“Well somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”
Atsushi thinks he’s begun to recognize this tone of voice. He determinedly keeps his head down, knowing deep down that his attempts to avoid Dazai’s antics will always be futile. This is proven instantly, as Dazai kicks Atsushi’s chair legs harder this time, wheeling him away from the desk. He only barely catches himself from face planting, and glares up at his so-called mentor. The amusement on his face makes Atsushi’s scowl deepen.
The barely bitten back laughter in Dazai’s voice makes him feel all the more tired without the previous contentment. “Aww, so you’re grumpy today, is that it?”
“I wasn’t. Until somebody decided to bother me.” Taking a deep breath, he collects his chair and sits back down. He wants to turn his head away, but doesn’t trust his deskmate to not immediately go back to harassing him. Not that it makes that much of a difference, but at least he can react better if he sees it coming.
The twinkling eyes he’s met with would normally be a relief to see, that Dazai is in such a good mood, but now it’s at his expense. He didn’t think he’d slept that poorly, but it just makes him all the more tired. This must be how Kunikida feels all the time, everyday. He only feels a little bad wishing the blond would return from his current job already.
“Well, I can’t help that you’re so botherable , Atsushi. Maybe look inward before you go pointing fingers, hm?”
He’s not even holding a pen, but he wants to break one suddenly. Standing abruptly, the only warning he gives is a low, “I’ll show you grumpy,” before he shoves Dazai over, right out of his chair.
The thud of Dazai’s head hitting the ground makes him wince, and he almost apologizes, but Dazai, wide-eyed and almost stunned, speaks up. “Did you just push me?”
“You’re on the ground, aren’t you?” is not a helpful thing to say right now, so reluctantly he reaches out a hand to help him up. “Um—”
The main door swings open, and just as quickly, Dazai is clutching his head and groaning. “Owww! Kunikida! Atsushi pushed me!”
Yanking his hand back, Atsushi rights himself, stuttering, “I— He, just.”
The sigh Kunikida interrupts them both with is soul deep, and Atsushi sympathizes. “I don’t care. Stop messing around!” Kunikida strides over quickly, and Dazai sits up, still on the ground, before he can get kicked for his troubles.
“You’re both so meeeaaann,” he whines.
“You wouldn’t deserve it if you weren’t so bothersome, you useless bandage waster. Get up!”
Atsushi has never felt so satisfied watching Dazai get dragged around as he does now. As usual, Dazai ruins it as he reminds them, “Then don’t be so botherable!” He wonders if his eye roll was somehow audible, as Dazai looks past Kunikida to cheerfully add, “At least you’re not alone in your grumpiness now!”
“You’re no fun, you know? You make my job so boring,” Yosano tells him as he sits, rather pointlessly in his opinion, in her office space.
“Sorry, I’ll just… Not regenerate next time?” Atsushi tilts his head.
“That’s all I ask.”
She smirks at him over her shoulder, and he chuckles a little in return, glad she doesn’t really mean it. Mostly. Probably. He knows she doesn’t want him to be in needless, excessive pain, so that’s good enough.
She turns around, uncaringly waving an out of place kitchen knife in her hand. Although, then again, considering the large hatchet she carries with her, maybe the knife isn’t so weird after all.
“Your ability is just so complicated. What about turning into a tiger means you can grow limbs back, and even recover from blood loss so easily? If you could share that, you’d run me out of business for sure.”
“I think it’s just part of the transformation? Like my body is constantly undergoing small scale transformations to maintain itself. Maybe. I don’t question it too much.”
Yosano watches him for a moment, intrigued. “You know, I wasn’t actually expecting any sort of explanation, but that’s an interesting theory. Still,” she squints at him, “you gotta give me something to work with here.”
In the back of his mind, he realizes his life truly has become so normally strange, as he finds himself laughing at the knife pointed in his face. “Sure, sure, I promise, Yosano.”
“Oh? Why are we threatening Atsushi?”
Atsushi looks over, startled over having not noticed Dazai poking his head into the room. He doesn’t seem the slightest bit concerned about the knife still pointed in Atsushi’s face, purely amused.
“He’s trying to run me out of business.”
“I’m not trying to, I promise.”
“Likely story,” she smirks again, finally setting the knife back down.
He’s being taunted.
He has no idea how, exactly, but he knows it and it’s getting on his nerves. That morning, they’d received their regular order of varying supplies that he’d helped bring up to the office and sort through. It had been tricky, using the tiger’s strength without piercing the boxes with his claws, but he managed.
And now, back from a short job, practically a delivery, one of the larger boxes that he swore he’d broken down, is sitting, open and perfectly intact, in front of his desk, his actual chair nowhere in sight.
He wants to sit in it.
He wants to sit in it and it makes no sense. It’s a box . Where the hell did his chair go? More importantly, where is the likely culprit of his missing chair?
“Kunikida dragged him off for a mission while you were out,” Ranpo reads his mind before grabbing more chips to munch on.
“Thanks,” Atsushi mumbles, because he knows that’s all he’s going to get, and it’s better than nothing.
He still really wants to sit in the box. He’s also still just standing there like an idiot, staring down at the offending object. He can’t look away. This is so stupid. He’s got one foot in it before he can second guess himself, tuning out the idle noises of the others in the office. Stepping in fully, he considers what to do next. Simply standing in it isn’t enough, so crouching down seems like the reasonable next step. The box isn’t quite big enough for him to sit comfortably, so he’s huddled in it, hands on his knees. Better. Would be nice if I could lean on it, but I’ll definitely break it. Right?
Atsushi shakes his head. Of course he’d break the box. It’s bad enough he gave into this ridiculous impulse. He can’t crash to the ground because he wants to lean his entire weight on it. Even if it is nice. This is just because he’s used to sleeping in tight spaces, probably. It’s not that weird.
Atsushi sighs. He’s lying to himself and not even managing to be convincing about it.
Naomi approaching makes him suddenly very aware of his odd behavior. She blinks down at him. He blinks back, refusing to be the one to acknowledge anything. A strange look quickly passes over her face, like she wants to say something and decides against it, and smiles. She hands him the papers in her hand, saying as she turns, “Let me grab you a clipboard to work on.”
He doesn’t think he’s ever appreciated her more than he does as she wordlessly hands it to him and walks away, relatively judgment free. Grabbing around blindly for a pen from his desk has him realizing he’s never considered the height of the desks before. Not that it would matter if he had his actual chair. His actual chair that he should locate sooner rather than later.
A time which never comes before the bickering pair can be heard before the door swings open. Whatever they were arguing about is forgotten as Dazai rushes across the room, Kunikida loudly wondering why he can’t move with such haste when it matters.
Now, it’s Dazai blinking down at him. Biting the inside of his cheek, he stares back. Whatever teasing he gets for this, he knows he’s earned it this time. Might as well own up to it. Though he did expect Dazai to look more amused and less… Blank.
“How long have you been down there?”
Well, that’s not what he was expecting. “I don’t know? Since I got back earlier, I guess?”
“Why?”
Kunikida has come over and is raising an eyebrow at him. Once more, he’s grateful for the clipboard he was given, so that it’s at least apparent he has been still working, albeit in an unusual arrangement. Atsushi rubs the back of his neck and answers, “Well, my chair was missing, and I knew I should look for it, but I hadn’t gotten around to it. And I just… fit? So I—”
He’s cut off by Dazai slumping over onto his own desk, wheezing. Startled, Kunikida thumps him on the back, and Ranpo cackles too.
“You fit, so you sat? Is that what you’re telling me?” Dazai barely manages to get out intelligibly.
Did he just laugh so hard he cried? “I… I guess so. I know it’s stupid.”
“No, no,” Dazai waves a hand to stop him, still leaning on his desk with the other. “This is perfect. Thank you!”
“Will you bring my chair back, then?”
When, some days prior, Dazai had asked him his opinion on bread, he hadn’t expected it to be relevant to… Anything, really. Just assumed it was another idle thought in his head with some deeper meaning Atsushi himself did not care to attempt to keep up with, under Kunikida’s threatening glare.
He asks “why” often, when Dazai is involved. Today, he would like to know why Dazai, for seemingly no reason, has decided to gift him a plushie-pillow thing. Of a slice of bread, he’s pretty sure, with a hole in the middle.
And here he thought the food thing was over.
Lost at what it could possibly all mean, he looks at the man watching him eagerly. Holding it up in askance, he hopes that’s enough, because he does not know where to even possibly begin.
“Ah, of course, of course, here, allow me,” Dazai says in a cheerful tone that has Atsushi regretting his every life choice, and takes the bread plushie from his hands. “Can you lean forward a bit?”
He does as asked, expecting Dazai to put it behind him in some specific way. So it is a pillow?
No. Why, of course. Why would anything be so straightforward with him. No, instead, he can’t help but flinch as Dazai shoves it in his face. Or rather, around his face.
“There you are! It looks great!” Dazai claps.
“What,” his voice is strained, “is this for?” His hands are hovering by his head, and he realizes Dazai sounded odd because the thing is over his ears. Instinctively, he tries to look down at it, but it’s still very much on his head, and only succeeds in bumping it into his chest.
“Funny pictures? Say cheese!”
Atsushi looks up in alarm in time to be blinded by the flash. “Delete that. And please don’t tell me you have more cheese in your pocket.”
“No cheese today,” Dazai says as he scrutinizes his phone. “Hm. The flash ruined the picture. Can I take it without the flash?”
“No!” He yanks the bread slice off his head as he shouts, just in case.
“Aww, just one?”
Knowing it would not, in fact, be just one, Atsushi firmly restates, “No.”
“So we can’t make an Atsushi sandwich today?” Dazai asks, reaching a hand into one of his bottomless pockets.
Impulsively, to stop whatever Dazai is about to do, Atsushi shoves the bread slice down over Dazai’s head instead, until it’s around his neck. “Make a Dazai sandwich instead.”
“Eugh, no, that’s not the same.”
“Figure it out.”
(“Figuring it out” turns out to mean Dazai using it as a neck pillow— so it is a pillow after all! —and napping right there at his desk, slumped back in his chair. Making sure his flash is off, Atsushi takes a picture.)
Tanizaki and himself were assigned to what should be a simple job: a store of musical instruments was purportedly robbed, the cameras seemingly untampered with, and so the shop owner claimed it might have been an ability user, hence their involvement. Maybe it’s cynical, but Atsushi’s pretty sure the guy just wants some sort of insurance money.
Maybe he’s just sick of everything being the fault of some ability or another. Not that he’s expecting someone to own up to trying to commit tax fraud, but still. Can’t people be a little more creative?
He has no proof of this, though, and the three of them continue to listen to the man as he shows them around, loudly bemoaning the loss of not one, but two of his best guitars. Three of them, because for whatever reason, Dazai volunteered to join for this job. Atsushi can’t imagine what could be so interesting about it for him to insist upon tagging along, and hopes he doesn’t cause too much trouble.
All’s well so far, as Dazai chats up the shop owner as he and Tanizaki poke around, asking questions about what he saw and why he thinks those two guitars specifically went missing, and okay, he’s feeling a little vindicated, realizing Dazai obviously doesn’t believe a word out of his mouth either. Sharing a look with Tanizaki, they both have to fight to stay professional and not burst out laughing as the man flusters and excuses himself from Dazai’s onslaught.
“So we all agree he’s full of shit, right?” Tanizaki mutters when Dazai joins them in a corner of the shop, and Dazai’s polite smile turns sharp.
“I was worried I was being too harsh not believing him the second he started talking, but yeah. He’s not subtle,” Atsushi adds.
“Not in the slightest. He definitely wants us out of his receding hairline.”
“Dazai!” Atsushi exclaims as quietly as he can, while Tanizaki can’t help but snort.
“What? It’s true,” unrepentant, Dazai carries on, tone turning serious. “Besides, there’s far more pressing business to be had here.”
The two younger detectives straighten up. “Huh? What did we miss?” Tanizaki asks.
Dazai lets out a short hum. “Can the two of you look at the piano for me?” He motions to the large instrument they’d gathered next to.
Atsushi hadn’t paid it much mind, not thinking it relevant. Was there something hidden inside it? He walks up in front of it, looking down at the keys, Tanizaki crouching beside him looking under it. The keys all seem to be in place, it looks clean, and he can’t smell anything weird about it with his tiger senses.
He doesn’t stop his inspection as Dazai comes up behind him, expecting something stupidly obvious to be pointed out to him. Instead, one of his arms is grabbed, and he’s reminded of being hefted up. He tries to sidestep away, but Dazai has already grabbed his other arm.
And slaps Atsushi’s hands down on the keys.
“Ow!” Tanizaki grunts after loudly hitting his head on the underside of the piano.
Frozen, Atsushi does nothing as Dazai repeats the motion a few times, creating horrible combinations of sounds from the poor keyboard. He’s faintly aware of Tanizaki staring up at them from the ground with reasonable befuddlement, but he’s too busy not comprehending what in the world this is supposed to be accomplishing.
Just as suddenly, Dazai drops his arms, in time for the shop owner to emerge and question the noise. “Apologies! We were inspecting it, as something seemed amiss.”
The panic in the man’s face is almost as comical as his loud exclamation of, “How could that be?!”
From there, Atsushi simply watches in awe as Dazai spins and twists the other man’s words until he’s accidentally confessed on his own.
Later, as they all leave, Atsushi asks, “Was making me slap the piano really necessary?”
“Of course! That was the most important part! The whole reason I came here at all!”
Tanizaki shrugs at him from Dazai’s other side, and Atsushi lets this go, too. It's hard to argue with his results.
After a long, unnecessarily warm day, it’s Kyouka who suggests they all go out for something like milkshakes. He’s pretty sure she just wants an excuse to have something sweet, but no one can begrudge her that, and so they agree. They’re a large group for the poor unsuspecting workers in the ice cream shop they find that evening, and he hopes they didn’t show up too close to their closing time.
Not enough to change his mind, though. He can still feel the blazing sun he had to run under earlier in the day on the back of his neck.
They all take their turns ordering, gathering around the few tables off to the side until everyone has their drinks, before agreeing to take them outside to enjoy under the setting sun. There’s a nearby sitting area that can accommodate them all, and as most of them chat loudly, catching odd glances from passersby, he sips his milkshake in silence, wondering what their odd group looks like to others.
Not that it matters what they think, ultimately. He smiles, listening to Kyouka showing off something she found online, some account or another that posts about the rabbits they raise, to Kenji and Fukuzawa, both asking about other animal videos she has saved. Yosano is pulling something out of her pocket—do all his coworkers keep food in their pockets?—asking if Ranpo or Kunikida want any added to their milkshakes too. Tanizaki and Naomi must have slipped away at some point, but that’s no surprise.
Atsushi didn’t realize he’d been drinking so fast until his straw makes a loud slurping sound and he comes up with nothing. Then, just as surprisingly, a yawn overtakes him, and he stretches with it. It’s a nice end to a busy day.
“Full of milk…” Dazai mutters beside him, and he startles. Right, he knew Dazai had sat beside him, but they’d not spoken, lost in their own thoughts. Or he had been.
Replaying the words in his mind for a moment, he’s not entirely sure what to say to that. “Ah, yeah. I hadn’t meant to drink so fast, but it was good, and I was distracted.” Observing Dazai from the corner of his eye, he sees him smile faintly, still observing the others around them. “How about yours?”
“Hm? Oh, mine is good, I’m just not a glutton like some people.” He takes a pointed sip.
He huffs a laugh, and goes back to listening to the sounds of people talking to and about various animals coming from Kyouka’s phone for awhile, and Dazai gets pulled into some incomprehensible conversation with Ranpo that he’s pretty sure they’re having just to annoy Yosano and Kunikida.
At some point he must have dozed off, because Kyouka is gently shaking his shoulder, and he lifts his face from where it’d been resting on his outstretched arms. He glances around, finding everyone collecting themselves, tossing out their trash, getting ready to leave.
He yawns again in his chair, and stretches his limbs out before himself, hands fisted as his arms shake slightly with the effort. Suddenly, Dazai’s right up on his other side, and shoves his phone into Atsushi’s still bleary-eyed face. “Sir, are you aware you are a cat?”