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“Dazai, what are you doing?”
Dazai was pulled out of his thoughts by Chuuya’s voice, which was quiet but with an underlying tenseness that Dazai knew came from the strangeness of the situation.
They were sleeping in the same room together, in the same bed, because Chuuya invited Dazai over for drinks and Dazai, the lazy bastard, hadn’t wanted to walk back to his apartment afterwards. Chuuya was feeling nice, so he let Dazai sleep on the bed with him instead of on the couch.
This was all very new. The inviting each other over for drinks or food wasn’t new. They’d started doing it when the Agency and the Mafia started working together more often. Their meetings had started in various bars, and then they realized that they were more interested in talking to each other than getting too drunk to feel annoyed in the other person’s presence. So they took their get-togethers to each others’ apartments.
Their talks started feeling less awkward and antagonistic. Dazai gradually stopped throwing veiled but biting insults Chuuya’s way, and Chuuya stopped directly insulting Dazai. They still bickered and still annoyed each other to a certain extent, but the anger and displeasure was gone now.
And replaced with what? Friendship? Something else?
Dazai didn’t know why he decided that he couldn’t walk home tonight when he’d walked home every other night despite being drunk or tired.
Maybe it was because it was the third time this week they’d done this, and each time Dazai felt a bit more relaxed despite drinking the same amount (and he drank less and less the more he and Chuuya spent time together.) Maybe it was the way Chuuya leaned heavily against the arm of his couch, trying to stifle a yawn and looking completely harmless in that moment even though Dazai knew he wasn’t.
Maybe Dazai wanted to try something new, and Chuuya was the one he wanted to try it with.
So he went to bed with Chuuya, and while laying in the dark he thought about how he had never slept in the same bed with someone without having sex, and he’d always left before morning. The sex was rough, and gentle touch was something Dazai wasn’t familiar with. He wouldn’t call himself touch-starved--he didn’t like being touched that often in any way. But he did wonder what it would be like to have someone caress his cheek, or put their arms around him in a gentle hug, or to kiss his lips in a way that wasn’t angry or desperate.
He reached over and ran his fingers lightly through Chuuya’s hair.
Chuuya tensed, and Dazai tried to figure out how to put into words a good answer to Chuuya’s question without exposing whatever strange things he was feeling.
But what came out was, “has anyone ever done that to you?”
Chuuya turned around, frowning. “Done what to me? Touched my hair?”
“No,” Dazai said. “Has anyone ever been like that...gentle...to you?”
“Huh?” Chuuya looked like he was trying to figure out what Dazai meant and like he was too tired to put too much thought into it.
Dazai reached forward to repeat the gesture, but Chuuya jerked back on reflex.
There was something sad about that. Even worse, Dazai knew he’d do the same thing in Chuuya’s position.
“I guess not,” Dazai said. “Do you ever think about that?”
“You think about that?” Chuuya asked, surprised.
“I never used to,” Dazai said. “But...things are different at the Agency. People are different. I’ve been hugged.”
Chuuya raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been hugged.”
“Once or twice,” Dazai said. “Most people have that sort of thing happen more often, right?”
“Yeah,” Chuuya said, “but what’s your point? Are you trying to say you want more hugs?” He sounded genuinely confused.
“No,” Dazai said, frustrated. “I’m trying to ask if you want them? Or things like that?” This felt like the sort of conversation his eighteen-year-old self would’ve run away from, and part of Dazai had the urge to turn the whole thing into a joke no matter what Chuuya’s answer. But that would have pushed Chuuya away, and this time around Dazai didn’t want that.
“I don’t know,” Chuuya said. “Since when do you want to do stuff like that? Things like that are a liability, right?”
“That’s what I thought,” Dazai said. “But they’re not to the Agency. They’ve never been to you.”
Chuuya sighed. “If you’re leading me along, I’ll kick you out the window.”
“That’s a tempting proposition,” Dazai said, “to be kicked to my death by you. But I’m not.” He reached over again, a bit awkwardly but slowly, to play with one of Chuuya’s curls. “Let me?”
“Fine.”
Chuuya watched Dazai’s face as Dazai started running his fingers through his hair again, probably looking for any signs that Dazai was messing with him.
“Your hair is soft,” Dazai said. “How does it feel?”
“Good,” Chuuya admitted. “It’s making me tired.”
“Most people are asleep now, Chuuya,” Dazai teased. “It is that time of night, you know.”
“Shut up.” Chuuya closed his eyes, but right when Dazai thought he might fall asleep, he opened them again. He seemed to be deep in thought. “Dazai…” He moved closer and brushed Dazai’s hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear. His movements were just as tentative as Dazai’s, as if he was afraid the gesture would break something between them.
But it didn’t. Dazai felt calm. He closed his eyes, trusting that Chuuya wouldn’t do anything but be gentle with him.
He felt Chuuya move closer, so that they were almost touching. He could feel Chuuya’s warmth.
Chuuya didn’t put his arms around Dazai, and Dazai understood why. It was the same reason Dazai didn’t. They weren’t used to this. They weren’t even sure if these kind of things were meant for them.
But they were both willing to try, even if trying meant small gentle touches that over time became something more.