Work Text:
Light filtered through the curtains, creeping across the room until the rays fell across Ango’s face and stirred him. He sighed, and his awareness returned all too quickly. He sat up and fumbled through the nightstand’s drawer until he was able to pull his glasses out.
The frames settled into place on his nose, Ango glanced to the other occupant of the bed. It was odd, to say the least, to wake up before Dazai. The man hardly ever slept through the night, frequently waking up at all hours and refusing to go back to bed. Ango had given up trying to get him on a regular sleeping schedule only days after they had started consistently sharing a house. (Or, more accurately, when Ango had finally given Dazai the key to his house so he’d stop picking the lock.)
At the very least, he always slept less fitfully in Ango’s bed than on his sofa, and he couldn’t help but find that slightly endearing.
Ango was about to pull himself from the bed, but he hesitated for a moment. Dazai’s expression was relaxed and unguarded, a rare sight. Bandages ran across his neck and arms, more prominent with the loose T-shirt he was wearing, and he was curled around a pillow. With how little sleep he normally got, Ango hated to accidentally wake him up.
Unfortunately, it was already late, and Ango had places he needed to be that day.
He sighed as he slipped out of bed and into slippers, dyed a ridiculous pink by his ridiculous partner. He left the room and made his way to his bathroom to brush his teeth and fix his hair. It only took a few minutes, and when he returned, Dazai hadn’t moved.
Ango moved to his closet to pick out his standard suit for the day, but he paused when he felt a weight suddenly settle into his back. Bandaged arms wrapped around his chest, and a boney chin jabbed into his shoulder.
He had to marvel at how terrifying Dazai could be at times; he’d managed to make his way across the room without a single moan from the bed’s old springs or a creak from the half-rotted floorboards.
“Dazai,” Ango greeted, formal even now. “How long have you been awake?”
He hummed, and the sounds were close enough to Ango’s ear to give him chills. “Not long. Where are you sneaking off to?”
“I told you last night, I volunteered for some unpaid overtime,” he explained. He finished picking out his suit for the day but paused at the ties.
“Go for the blue one!”
Suppressing a laugh, Ango complied, selecting the tie Dazai had pointed out. He always claimed to have no favorite color, but Ango was beginning to suspect otherwise.
He shrugged Dazai off of him, ignoring the resulting pout directed his way, and laid his outfit out on the bed. Dazai, for his part, sprawled with his arms spread-eagled back onto the bed, just close enough to jumping on Ango’s clothing that he’d almost been concerned. He changed quickly, but he may have slowed a touch when he felt eyes slide up to watch him. Although he’d never seen Dazai completely bare, having never once had the heart to propose he remove his bandages, the reverse certainly wasn’t true. It shouldn’t be anything Dazai wasn’t used to, but he still watched with an odd amount of interest.
Dazai rolled onto his stomach just as Ango was finishing adjusting his sleeves to sit properly. He sat up to prop his chin on one hand and remarked, “You should just ditch work today. It’s Sunday.”
“You know I can’t do that,” Ango replied.
“Awww, pleeeeaaase?”
He sighed. “No.”
“What if I promised to make it worthwhile for you?” Dazai’s grin turned mischievous, and Ango could only roll his eyes at the insinuation.
“That,” he started, “is hardly proper.”
Dazai flopped back into the bed. “Being proper is boring.”
“I’m a boring person.”
“No, you’re not,” he said. “You’re living with me. That automatically makes you more interesting.”
“Duly noted.” Ango smiled as he grabbed his tie and looped it through the collar of his shirt. It was… off, though. It took him a moment to place why, but when he did, it brought a frown to his lips. It was slightly too heavy, from what he remembered, and the shape of the tip was a little warped.
It took a minute of fumbling, but he was able to dig a small black device that almost resembled a coin cell battery.
He raised an eyebrow and held it out to Dazai, who was trying and failing to look innocent. “What is this?”
“Nothing~”
“Dazai. I do need to leave soon,” Ango warned.
Apparently giving up, he explained, “It’s a noise maker! I thought it’d be a fun surprise for you at work today.”
“Well, I appreciate the thought, but I believe we came to an agreement about your pranks and my workplace.” He knew Dazai wasn’t likely to honor the rule, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t at least attempt to enforce it.
He set the tiny noisemaker back onto the dresser and glanced back to Dazai, still laying dejectedly in bed.
Ango coughed then added, “Feel free to hide it somewhere else while I’m gone. Just please, don’t put it somewhere I’d accidentally take it to work.”
“Understood,” Dazai sang, perking up from the sheets. He finally hopped back off the bed to snatch the device and place it safely into one of the pockets on his pajama pants. “What time are you getting back?”
Ango walked out of the room, and Dazai padded out behind him. “Around four, I think. I’ll bring something back for dinner if you plan to still be around.”
“Hmmm, are you going to that cafe by your work?” Dazai asked.
“I can.”
“Alright, I’ll be here!”
Ango crossed the threshold into the kitchen to open the fridge and collect a bento lunch he’d made the day before. He also grabbed an apple, and without looking behind him, he held it back from Dazai to take. He did so, absconding with it to the kotatsu to flick through the TV’s channels. Ango himself would get breakfast on his way to work, but making sure that Dazai ate something before he left had become ingrained in his routine.
With Dazai suitably occupied—though Ango was aware he would know exactly what he was doing—he slipped to the other room, which was meant to be a spare bedroom, but since Ango rarely had company, it was mostly used as a storage room. A small armoire sat against the wall of one corner, and Ango knelt in front of it as he opened it.
It was, as usual, bare. He opened one of the drawers, grateful to see the incense still present. He removed a small stick, setting it up on a dish, and lit it with the lighter from his pocket. Taking a bit of rice from the bento, he set it out in front of the burning incense.
It was by no means a proper Butsudan. Oda hadn’t been family, so perhaps creating a small shrine to honor him in Ango’s home hadn’t been appropriate. He had no other family, though, and no other dearly departed. At the time, Dazai had clearly claimed Oda’s grave, and wanting to avoid him as much as possible, Ango had felt the need to create his own place to grieve.
He was even more unsure of it after the first time Dazai had broken into his house. In retrospect, he suspected Dazai may have come to talk, but Ango had returned to find his house empty and the shrine destroyed. The only picture of Oda he’d had, a copy of the photo that the three of them had taken in the bar, was the only thing missing instead of outright vandalized.
It was vindictive, and it was petty.
It was Dazai.
Ango had, of course, rebuilt it, but he still found anything he put out periodically missing or broken. Even after they’d made up, even after the offerings had grown smaller and smaller with Ango’s declining feelings of guilt, they still disappeared. Thankfully, Dazai had switched to stealing instead of outright destroying, but it still left Ango confused.
Dazai had forgiven him, and Ango had believed him—had to believe him. It left him wondering whether he should stop or not, but he didn’t know which option Dazai would prefer. He wasn’t even sure if Dazai himself would understand how he felt about it.
It felt fitting, somehow, that the one cold and distant part of their relationship was the memory of their old friend. Still, the current situation was a vast improvement, and Ango wasn’t about to start complaining. Not at the risk of shattering the tentative happiness they’d created together.
“Hello, Oda,” Ango said, softly enough to not be heard over the TV in the other room. “Good morning, again. I’m in good health, and so is Dazai.”
The words were more for himself than anything, but he repeated them every morning nonetheless. He let the incense smolder for another minute or so before putting it out. The chances of it causing a fire were low, but he’d rather not chance it.
Making a mental note to buy flowers on his way home, he closed the armoire again and returned to the main room. Dazai hadn’t moved, and he didn’t look up when Ango entered. He did, however, shift in his seat, so Ango knew he’d heard him enter.
“I’m off,” he said.
Dazai titled his head back across the sofa. “See you later.”
In a rare moment of courage, Ango stooped to plant a kiss on Dazai’s forehead and run a shy touch over his cheek. He hadn’t watched his expression, but when he pulled back, Dazai was looking at him with wide eyes. His features, however, quickly melted into something warmer.
“What was that for?” Dazai asked, his voice soft.
Ango smiled. “No reason. See you tonight?”
“If you bring food home from that cafe,” Dazai said. There was a teasing glint to his eyes.
“I’m only happy to oblige.”
Knowing that Dazai could probably stall him enough to make him late, Ango took that moment to excuse himself and make his way to the front door. To his surprise, his briefcase and shoes were neatly arranged for him, and he had to smile.
Dazai could be thoughtful in the oddest ways.
*
When Ango checked the next morning, the incense he’d left in the armoire was, for the first time, untouched.