Chapter Text
“Why do you smell like that?” Chuuya frowns, scrunching his nose comically.
Dazai, who just arrived over forty minutes late to their scheduled training session, doesn’t seem fazed by this comment. The brunette barely glances his way, used to the immediate insults the redhead throws at him.
“Like what.” He responds easily, shrugging off the coat he was carrying. The action only spreads the scent further, invading Chuuya's personal bubble. It makes him throw a glance around just to see that the rest of the gym doesn’t seem to notice it yet.
The ginger doesn’t respond. “You fucking reek.”
He keeps a disgusted look on his face, even if the smell isn’t truly bad.
It’s not bad at all, actually.
It’s sweet. A fresh floral scent that envelopes delicately around everything in the room. Noticeable, especially to the redhead who is highly sensitive to smells, but not overbearing. It’s the scent of an omega.
Dazai, contrary to popular belief, is an omega. The terrifying demon prodigy is not an alpha, not a beta, but an omega. Chuuya is aware of this. What's confusing him right now is that the brunette usually doesn’t really have a scent.
For the longest time, the ginger thought that Dazai was a beta, plain and normal. It was only after a very bad mission, when his partner got hurt, that Chuuya got close enough to him to feel the very faint and watery scent of the taller boy.
His partner then proceeded to, very casually, announce that he was indeed an omega. This was obviously immediately met with suspicion.
To be fair, Chuuya had noticed that Dazai seemed a bit too aware of others' scents for a beta, but he was still skeptical that this wasn’t a prank. Previously, he just chalked it up to Dazai being Dazai. He can do all sorts of weird things, so why not this. Only after twenty minutes of the younger boy swearing on everything but his life did he start to kinda believe it. Kinda.
The brunette wasn’t even trying to hide it. He didn’t wear scent patches or anything of the sort. He really was just that unnoticeable. His scent was almost non-existent, and Dazai was pretty much unaffected by the presence or the commands of an alpha. And it’s not like he exhibited any stereotypical omega personality traits. For all intents and purposes, he was a beta.
But right now, Chuuya was able to smell him the moment he walked through the door. It’s not the strongest scent, but a stark difference from Dazai’s usual smell.
Dazai’s eyes track his movements as the ginger slowly walks up to him with his gaze obviously fixed on his neck.
“Has Chuuya finally lost the few brain cells he had?” he replies with sarcasm, but the twitch of his brow, and now the faint dip in his scent, reveal genuine confusion.
It’s weird getting such a clear read on Dazai’s emotions.
Chuuya’s first instinct was to assume it was someone else's scent. A bit out of character, but who knows what his partner does in his past time. But it’s definitely Dazai’s. The base of the scent is that of a steady waterfall, the smell Chuuya felt last time, that now evolved into a more flowery, sweet version.
But it’s not like the executive could have been hiding the true nature of his scent, Chuuya was sure of it. A while after they presented, Mori wanted to teach them to use their scent as a method of torture.
The redhead excelled in that class, getting the hang of overpowering their opponents with it immediately. But Dazai’s scent was apparently too weak and unsuitable for interrogation. It left the taller boy slightly miffed for an entire week.
The scent coats his tongue, but not in the sugary and syrupy way most omega scents oppress the ginger’s senses.
Getting closer, he notices his partner's slight flush, showing up as a healthy pink in his cheeks. His tie is the slightest bit looser than normal, and not to mention the fact that he wasn’t wearing his precious coat over his shoulders, the edgy way he likes it, when he came in.
“Are you..” The ginger blinks slowly, looking his face over once, twice, before scowling incredulously.
Chuuya looks around at the mafia grunts training around them. He roughly pushes Dazai by his arm into a more secluded corner of the gym, behind a few machines no one ever touches. The other raises an eyebrow at the action.
“You smell like fucking heat.” The redhead whisper-yells at him while warily looking around again. Fortunately for his stupid partner, the ginger’s scent was way too strong on a normal day for anyone walking by to smell anything but him.
“I’m surprised you’d know how that smells like.” Dazai doesn’t resist taking a jab at his personal life, but he does actually seem to consider Chuuya’s words because he moves further behind, so the redhead blocks him from view completely.
The brunette seems to be taking an evaluation of his own physical state, narrowing his eyes and checking his forehead. Chuuya feels his eye twitch at this display. “How the hell do you not notice??” How did he even get all the way here without turning some heads?
Even like this, the taller’s scent is like that of your average omega that forgot to wear patches that day, yes. But he walked like this in public, and normal society is pretty bitchy about omegas being anything but invisible.
Dazai fixes him with an annoyed stare. “For your information, I feel fine.” He starts looking over the machine giving them cover, probably thinking of the fastest way outside.
The taller boy said he’s fine with people finding out about his subgender, since he doubts it would affect his terrifying reputation. But if everyone heard that the demon prodigy was in a vulnerable position, like a heat, the usual assassins that target him monthly would at least triple for the following week. So not ideal.
Chuuya groans, knowing this will affect his work as well, all because his partner is a fucking idiot. He really doesn’t want to deal with assassins on top of their normal missions, which he’s apparently doing alone now.
He grabs said idiot by his elbow again, dragging him along, wordlessly agreeing to offer his help. The redhead uses his own smell as a cover again, letting out more pheromones than normal, basically sneaking Dazai out of the place.
All his life, Chuuya was constantly complimented that he has a very strong and alpha scent. The ginger can’t verify the truthfulness of this because one can’t really smell themselves. Other strong scents, alpha or not, usually give him migraines. That and the fact that it’s his main way of getting information out of people make him skeptical of it actually being pleasant.
He feels Dazai momentarily tense and let out a disgusted? noise when he amplified his scent, before he lets the other drag him again.
Well, people having a physical reaction just to his presence also isn’t a good sign.
They escape the gym, thankfully alone in the hallway since the training rooms are the only thing on this floor. They swipe Dazai’s card to use the executive elevator, just in case, however. Chuuya really wouldn’t like getting caught now, because people might think he encouraged the stupid idea of coming in to work like this, or worse, that they were leaving together under these circumstances to do something obscene!
He crosses his arms, frowning at the idea. God, he hates nosy people. All their subordinates do is gossip, like they’re not grown adults in the fucking mafia. He feels the brunette’s sideways glance at him, and he resists the urge to snap at him.
As the elevator doors close, the dewy smell gingerly wraps around him, swirling around the room. Because of the proximity, Chuuya is basically drowning in it. But it doesn’t feel like that. There’s no reason for it, but the angry lines of his frown smooth over, leaving him only slightly miffed that his partners' scent is the thing that can calm his mind, out of all things.
Maybe the taller boy can read all of his thoughts as bold text over his forehead, because he lets out a breathy chuckle. The redhead plans to strangle the other against the elevator wall until he never breathes again.
The moment the doors open to the underground parking, Dazai is out the door, waving without looking back.“Well, I’ll see Chuuya after my vacati-“
“Where the hell are you going?” The redhead is looking at him with an openly baffled expression. The brunetter returns his look over his shoulder, like Chuuya is a particularly stupid child.
“Uhh, home? Obviously? I'm starting to get really concerned for Chuuya’s aging mind.” He gestures with the hand that’s still stuck mid air.
The ginger ignores his comment again (cuz he’s mature like that) and grabs his shirt collar, pulling him back. “I know your stupid container isn't available, so I don’t know where you’re going, but it’s not ‘home’.”
Dazai’s ‘home’, as he calls it, has been basically unlivable the past week and a half because of the summer heat. The useless fish complained to him about this just a few days ago. Genuinely, why would you live in a metal box in the first place? His genius must be selective.
The brunette realises his slip of the tongue, closing his eyes in annoyance. The slow reaction time is the only sign so far that the taller boy is affected by his situation.
“I assure you that I haven’t been sleeping on the streets or creeping around the port mafia building at night.” He charmingly offers, pushing his bangs, which are now slightly sweaty, from his face.
Chuuya decides that he actually won’t argue about this, no matter how big the chance of Dazai sleeping in his office this whole time is. “Either way, you can’t go out in public like this. And you can’t use a mafia car without leaving your scent all over it and the driver finding out.”
Dazai keeps eye contact as the redhead moves closer to harshly poke his chest with every word.
“So you’re stuck with me.” He will not give his partner the satisfaction, no matter how much the brunette wants to get away from his ‘disgusting’ presence. Unfortunately for him, Chuuya finished his work before this, knowing he was going to waste time here waiting for the other.
Surprisingly, Dazai doesn’t really fight him on this, groaning once but otherwise keeping quiet. Perhaps he’s just too tired to fight it. Or maybe he knows the ginger is right.
He’s silently looking out the window, completely ignoring Chuuya. Without a distraction, the redhead is once again confronted by the calming scent.
The more time he’s around it, the more notes to the previously inconspicuous scent, he discovers. At first, it was just sweet, slowly developing into the fresh floral smell that first caught his attention. But now he’s almost sure there's a spicy, fruity undertone to it. It drives him nuts that he can’t place what Dazai’s scent is specifically.
Or he might just be going crazy.
“Why are we at Chuuya’s apartment?” The brunette whines when he notices Chuuya take a familiar turn.
“You’re still homeless, remember.” He hums before adding sarcastically. “And because Chuuya doesn’t want a sniper to kill you, since all of your unfinished paperwork will go to him!”
Dazai whines again, like a petulant child, and sinks further into his seat. It brings a smile to the redhead's face.
He opens the door, letting the taller boy hurry inside first, and drops his hat and keys on the shelf close to the door. Dazai enters the apartment without bothering to take his shoes off, plopping on the couch.
The redhead sighs, taking his coat and shoes off before going to his bedroom to change. He feels the brunette's eyes on him as he passes the couch.
He gets changed into a random t-shirt and sweatpants and walks back to the living room. Dazai is sitting with his legs criss-cross on the couch, at least now having the decency to take off his shoes. But for some reason, he was casually playing with Chuuya’s hat, the one he left in the hallway.
The ginger scowls and yanks it away, earning a dramatic “My hat!” from the other. Instead, he throws a shirt and pants at him, so he can change. It’s mostly so that outside clothes don’t dirty his couch, but also because he is a deeply kind and thoughtful person!
His partner seems satiated with this exchange, getting up to go change without needing to ask for directions to the bathroom. He’s here too often, Chuuya decides.
They decide to watch some movies, separated at different far ends of the couch. The brunette even weaseled his way into getting a few blankets and pillows, sitting tucked in like a fucking princess.
Since the taller boy is fine, this is more or less like a normal hangout. Except for the watery aroma in the room, that’s stronger now since the executive took off a few bandages to free his scent glands, but Chuuya is ignoring it.
It’s pretty easy to do so when he gets distracted by the familiar routine of arguing with his partner about what movie to watch and then making fun of the movie they agreed on together. They usually did this after finishing missions abroad, on the last night of their stay.
It started out of boredom, but after a while, Dazai started to have a list of potential movies to watch for the tradition. Almost all of them would get rejected, but the ginger made it up to him by getting every streaming service possible for these hangouts.
Recently, they’ve been doing it on normal days as well, since Mori hasn’t sent them away for a while.
At some point, both of them ended up closer to the center of the couch, leaning to get to the bowl of popcorn Chuuya made after the brunette started whining about wanting a snack. One of Dazai’s three blankets ended up halfway over the ginger when his partner decided one was enough. The third one was lost somewhere on the floor after ten minutes.
The cool and airy smell is a nice break for Chuuya, cleansing his senses from the overload of scents he’s usually around. He’s always kind of appreciated that about his partner. Somehow, no matter how much they bicker, he still feels a sense of calmness around him.
It’s not just his scent, since a few hours ago, he couldn’t even smell it. Dazai’s whole personality and demeanour are a breath of fresh air for him. He couldn’t put into words why, since rationally, he’s not that different. There’s just an easiness to hanging out with him.
It’s only at the halfway point of the second movie that Dazai falls quiet, no longer participating in their usual commentary. It doesn’t really faze Chuuya, since he’s probably sleeping.
But then the brunette suddenly changes positions, knocking over the almost empty bowl of popcorn. The redhead only gives him a sideways glance before looking at the TV again.
Dazai continues to fuss for the next fifteen minutes. The first three loudly, throwing blankets and pillows around. After that, he stops, making more subtle movements like he’s trying to hide his fidgeting.
So he’s not trying to be annoying. After the fifth time his partner very unsubtely moves his leg by an inch, Chuuya turns to him. “What?”
The other meets his stare, but his glance moves back to the TV after a brief moment. “It’s just cramps.” He hums quietly.
The ginger blinks, again remembering that these are not the normal circumstances of a hangout. “Is it bad? I could get you some painkillers.” He tries, not used to trying to be helpful.
He only gets an eyeroll in response. “I'm fine.”
Despite this answer, the brunette continues to twitch and fidget, now trying to be even more silent. It wasn’t unlike him to hide his discomfort. Even during missions, he would hide wounds for long periods of time. So Chuuya’s theory is that his pain is worse than he lets on.
Some omegas can be downright hysterical during their heat, so not even the brunette's specialness can protect him from everything. The ginger lets out a sigh before moving the bowl out of the way.
Dazai watches him with a wary frown as he crosses the small space between them. He tenses when the redhead leans over to grab his wrist, touching his scent gland with his own.
The full effect of his partner’s scent and ability hit Chuuya fully, coming as a sudden wave that leaves everything in his body in a peaceful calm. No longer human flows, extinguishing the fire that usually burns under his skin. He’s had this ability for so long, and he touches the brunette’s skin so rarely, he has forgotten what it’s like without it.
Dazai reacts the same, his eyes widening and body relaxing. The executive’s hand instinctively wraps around his so their glands can stay touching, and keeps his eyes tracked on the hold.
The ginger is unsure why the other would have a positive reaction to getting such a strong scent basically shoved into his space, but he assumes it’s the instincts of his subgender that are making his partner react like this. That’s why he did it. The brunette’s instincts just want an alpha to dote on them, so if this will help, why not?
Chuuya supposes it’s an unexpected bonus that this is an absolutely heavenly feeling for him as well. He’s scented an omega before, but their scent was so sugary it made his eyes almost tear up. It definitely took some getting used to.
Rested on one of his pillows, Dazai had closed his eyes. He would almost seem asleep if not for the strong hold he still had on the ginger’s hand.
“Is it gone?” The redhead hums quietly, unable to make himself break the unfamiliar but peaceful atmosphere.
A doe brown eye opens to stare into his. He’s probably the only person in the world to describe it this way, but there's a pretty golden tint to it from the mood lighting of his apartment.
It makes him wish he could see both of them. In the rumors that circulate among the low ranking mafiosos, Dazai is described as a red eyed demon. Chuuya’s never been able to see it.
The ginger caresses the hand he’s holding with his thumb without realising.
“Chuuya smells good.” The taller boy blurts out with a straight face, keeping the same intimate tone.
The redhead grins, amused. “Huh?”
Dazai blinks, as if realising what he said, and purses his lips.
Under normal pretenses, this would feel awkward, but Chuuya just can’t find it in him to get embarrassed. Clearly, his partner feels the same because he doesn’t take it back.
Did he say that out of politeness? The redhead can’t imagine him being serious about it. Although the idea of Dazai saying something just to be ‘nice’ is equally ridiculous.
“Well, thank you.” He doesn’t try to keep the smugness out of his tone. “You’re not bad yourself.”
The executive scowls and rolls his eyes, looking away, taking the compliment with the same level of skepticism as the ginger.
There’s still a movie playing in the background, but he ignores it in favor of studying Dazai's face. With free rein to stare, his eyes track over the slope of Dazai’s nose and the faint plump of his lips.
As much as it used to piss him off, the taller boy was handsome. He barely resembled the lanky, awkward looking teen that he had fought with three years ago. He’s not even sure when this change happened; the realisation just hit him one day when he grabbed his partner to yell in his face. Dazai just gave him a pleased smirk at successfully annoying him, which left the redhead staring rather dumbly at him for the better part of two seconds.
The taller boy continued to bring up this incident for the next two weeks.
His dark, messy curls contrast with the pale, pearly skin. This, paired with the coolness of his skin and mysterious quality, made Dazai have a certain allure. The ginger wasn’t the only one who noticed this. He was convinced the only reason the executive wasn’t more popular was the fact that there weren’t many people their age in the mafia. And somehow, he still managed to get hit on regularly.
Chuuya is sitting on the side with the bandages, as he usually would, but right now it’s really hindering his staring. In the first year of their partnership, he would ask periodically why the brunette even wears them. After a few dozen elaborate stories and lies from the other, he made up with the fact that he might never know.
After a couple of movies, the ginger can feel his eyes growing heavy. He checks the time and huffs in annoyance when he realizes he can only get a few hours of sleep before having to go to work. He gets up, waking up the almost asleep Dazai, who watches him with groggy eyes.
“You can sleep here, but don’t complain if I accidentally wake you up in a few hours.” He announces, turning off the TV.
“Don’t we have a mission together tomorrow?” The other asks him with suspicion.
“But you’re not going.”
Dazai openly frowns. “We’re stealing information, right? We’re supposed to get rid of all witnesses. No one would see me.”
“You literally love skipping work. Why are you arguing about this? ” It’s an achievement if his partner shows up for a week straight.
The brunette tenses at this before snapping back. “Just a reminder, I feel perfectly fine.” Chuuya can feel his brow twitch.
“So there’s no reason to miss any missions and piss Mori off.” Since when does the executive care about their boss's personal feelings on things??
“What’s your issue?” The redhead huffs, earning a pillow thrown at his head.
“I think it’s silly for you to go on this mission by yourself. Chuuya is probably going to mess it up!” Dazai replies as he arms himself with another pillow, (Why’d he give him so many?)
“If I can’t come with, I'm sure it can wait a week. It’s not on the priority list anyway.” Another pillow gets launched at him.
The ginger stares at him, dumbfounded, catching the weapon this time. His partner has never been so adamant about working in the three years of knowing each other. Does he..
Does he just want Chuuya to stay?
No, that’s stupid.
But still, the redhead can’t shake the thought away.
“Fine.” He murmurs, giving the taller boy a weird look. “I’ll text the boss to postpone it.”
Dazai only gives an annoyed “hmph” before he turns with his back towards his partner, going to sleep. But the flowery note in his scent exposes the fact that he’s somewhat pleased.
Chuuya is so confused, staying frozen in place, watching the rise and fall of the brunette's breathing for a minute before going to bed.