Chapter Text
There’s things about Chuuya that leave Dazai speechless, in the way he’ll just hang back, watch him, smile to himself and think, How does a person like that feel anything for someone like me.
It’ll happen after missions where they’re both going to come home dripping in more than sweat, but his boy still has a golden swagger because there’s no enemy of the Mafia’s that can contend with the power behind Chuuya’s skill - ability is one thing, but Chuuya knows what to do with it. That’s the important part; Chuuya can have his cake, eat it, and Dazai will think fondly back on the hours past and how nothing and no one and not a damn thing else could possibly get in Chuuya’s way and he can’t help but grin because only a force of nature could have made a man like that.
But then, sometimes, the moment is softer, and it’s a wonder to himself how he hasn’t just forfeited his loyalty to the Mafia just to give it all up for Chuuya.
It’ll happen after those missions, and after the blood, and once the wine’s all gone and Chuuya’s face is flushed pink in celebration. Chuuya will tell him how he carried the team but he supposes that he’s glad for the help, which easily translates into a thank-you the both of them know is there -
But then Chuuya will tuck himself into Dazai’s open side, and any snark Dazai would have thrown at him fades into one of those smiles, because how is the same man who was hours ago raining decimation onto their enemies the same man that’s warming him at his side, murmuring about waking him up in time the next morning so they can give their mission reports? The same man who will slowly, deliberately, turn after a few moments of his back pressed against Dazai’s side so it’s his front flush to his as his head rests on his chest?
Dazai only lets himself think about it long enough to just watch him, snuggled to his side like an over grown cat, before that smile on his face his pressed to Chuuya’s forehead and sleep takes him, too.