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i.
The small apartment is quiet at this hour of the night. Akutagawa’s room is dark, lit only by moonlight filtering in through the window. It’s a cold light, and he perches on the windowsill staring out into the winter night with a faint frown. It hasn’t snowed yet this year, although at the rate the snow surely isn’t far away. Akutagawa doesn’t look forward to it. While others might be outside enjoying the moment of the first snow, he’ll be more than slightly busy with work, and in the middle of it all, overwhelmed with his illness. It worsens in the winter, the cold weather harsh and unforgiving.
He gets up with a sigh, tugging at the collar of the sweater he wears to fight the chill. It’s already late. He won’t be sleeping much tonight. So it can’t hurt if he makes himself a cup of tea instead of sitting in the window fighting a losing battle against regret.
The floor is cold against his bare feet. He internally curses himself for not putting on socks, shifting his weight back and forth as he stands in front of a cupboard in the kitchen, waiting to get used to the cold. The box he pulls down from the cupboard is made of dark wood, carved with intricate designs, dragons and exotic birds and trees and suns. Akutagawa knows the patterns by heart, though he won’t admit to sitting and tracing the designs so often late at night that his fingers sometimes automatically imitate the patterns when he’s stressed.
The lid of the box opens smoothly and quietly, and Akutagawa purses his lips, considering the contents - the majority of his collection of teas. He only really needs something simple tonight - it’s too late for valerian tea; that’ll put him into too deep of a sleep. Chamomile is light enough that it should help him get just a couple hours of rest.
He doesn’t even have the energy to really brew tea tonight; hot water and a tea bag will do. He heats up the water quickly, filling a mug and dropping in the tea bag. He never really adds sugar, but he does add some honey, hoping to temporarily soothe his cough.
With a warm cup of tea settled in both hands, he returns to the window. There’s a flutter of white outside in the darkness - the first snow of the year, finally falling in the dead of night with no one to celebrate it. Akutagawa closes his eyes with a soft sigh. Maybe, in some way, he is celebrating it. He may not enjoy snow, but he has to admit that it’s beautiful. And if he is alone watching it, then someone might as well appreciate it.
ii.
In the mafia, celebrating the holidays doesn’t really happen, for the most part, unless the members have a family to go home to. There is still work to be done, and Akutagawa, for his part, doesn’t see much worth in Christmas. It seems senseless, to him - shouldn’t gifts be given when they are needed, rather than reserved for one day of the year? But he can’t change the nature of the holiday, nor can he change the nature of people.
Quietly, of course, he does buy Gin a new pair of gloves. Her old ones have been getting worn, and both of them have been cold enough times to last a lifetime. He knows he’s going to off across the city for most of the day, so in the event neither of them is home when the other is, he wraps the gift and leaves it on Gin’s bed. A note isn’t necessary - it couldn’t be from anyone but him, after all.
He spends the day chasing down straying members of a gang that’s under Port Mafia supervision to remind them of who they’re supposed to be using their efforts to support. It takes more time than he’d like, because the members are smart enough to split up so that not all of them can be caught at once - it makes it less likely that he’ll wipe them out (although Akutagawa is honestly annoyed enough that the idea is tempting).
When he returns home, he’s aching and cold and soaked and frozen from his constant running around the city. It’s somewhere near midnight, so it’s really not that bad as far as missions go - he’s done a lot worse. All he wants, though, is to collapse into bed and hopefully sleep away the worst of his cough.
He changes quickly out of his wet clothes and into something warm and dry, tugging on a sweater on top of everything else. The extra layer of fabric makes him feel warmer almost immediately, and it’s like an extra barrier against the world. He’s about to go and curl up under his blankets when there’s a tap at the door.
He opens it to find Gin, holding a pair of steaming cups of some sort of tea. She smiles at him. “It wouldn’t kill me to be woken up once or twice, you know. I barely even see you lately.”
Akutagawa coughs into his elbow, looking anywhere but Gin’s face. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “It’s just been busy, and I haven’t wanted to wake you.” It’s a habit left over from when they used to take turns at being the lookout while the other slept. It’s lasted years, and Akutagawa isn’t sure that it’ll ever leave him.
Gin sighs. “It’s has been busy,” she agrees. “But we’re both here now. Do you have a few minutes?”
They end up sitting together by the kitchen window in companionable silence. A faint chill comes off the glass, but it can’t make its way through Akutagawa’s many layers of clothing, and his hands are warmed by the tea Gin made. He squints at it. It doesn’t smell quite like any of the teas he has - he’s not sure where it came from.
Gin smirks a tiny bit at that. “Take a sip,” she urges him.
Akutagawa lifts the cup to his lips. The tea has a delicate taste, and is sweet, although not in the same way that it would be if sugar was added. As he lets the flavor sit, he realizes that it’s more intense than he first thought, although the flavor isn’t necessarily rich. “White tea?” he asks.
Gin looks happy that he’s recognized it. “Imperial silver needles white tea,” she says, quiet, but sounding satisfied. “I know you’ve wanted to try it for a while.” Akutagawa blinks; it’s a more expensive type of tea. Before he can say anything, Gin stops him. “It’s my gift to you.” She raises a hand to show him that she’s wearing the new gloves. “You can’t really argue when you gave me something, too.”
Akutagawa smiles slightly before taking another sip of tea. She’s not wrong, though for anyone else he might not admit that.
They drink their tea together without needing to say much more, simply enjoying being in each others company. It’s rare enough that they have time to spend together that it, too, is a gift.
iii.
The cafe has gotten very quiet since Akutagawa came in, and he hopes it’s not because someone recognized him. He likes coming here - it’s always peaceful and no one bothers him - and if someone has realized who he is, he would have to stop coming, for his own protection and that of the mafia.
He glances back over his shoulder to see if anyone is looking at him and comes face to face with Dazai.
“D-Dazai-san!”
Dazai blinks, seemingly mildly surprised. “Eh, Akutagawa-kun, you’re the last person I was expecting to see here!” He smiles. “You normally keep a lower profile than this.”
Akutagawa clears his throat and tries to find words, cursing himself for how quickly his brain gets fried around Dazai. It’s been like this ever since Dazai was still in the mafia - Akutagawa has always looked up to him and sought his approval. Since the battle with the Guild, Akutagawa has wondered if maybe Dazai has begun to see that he’s stronger than he was four years ago - someone truly worthy of his attention.
Oh. Right. Answering Dazai. That’s a thing that he’s supposed to be doing, and he is supposed to be cool and composed. He’s an impressive member of the Port Mafia, not a speechless child.
Just then, a young woman wearing the cafe’s uniform shirt quickly stops by to set a cup of tea down on the table. Dazai hums to himself, almost a questioning note, and then sits down on the other side of Akutagawa’s table. Akutagawa is so fixated on this fact that he barely notices Dazai ordering a coffee. “D-Dazai-san, is there something I can help you with?” he asks. Even awed by Dazai making this decision, he knows to be wary. Dazai is still in the Armed Detective Agency now, and Akutagawa can’t afford to be the one to slip up and give him information he isn’t supposed to have. Although… knowing Dazai, he probably has all the information he wants anyway.
Dazai just smiles. “You’ve done more than enough, Akutagawa-kun! I just saw you in here and wanted to stop by.”
Dazai would stop at a cafe for him? When he probably has far better things to be doing? Akutagawa blinks, quickly shoving down feelings of shock and excitement. He has a reason. He has to have a reason.
Dazai crosses one leg over the other, resting his arms on the table, sleeves rolled up despite the cold weather. He never does seem to care what people think of the bandages wrapped around him. “Dazai-san,” Akutagawa says in his best diplomatic tone - which he hasn’t had a lot of practice with, but this is fine - “is that your only reason for stopping in here?”
Dazai shrugs, smile unfaltering. “Yep!” he chirps. “I couldn’t seem to find you around during the holidays, so I’m a few days late, I suppose,” he muses. “You really are supposed to do things like this during the holidays.” He sighs softly. Akutagawa braces himself for whatever is about to happen, because Dazai is surely about to reveal his true purpose in being here.
“I left the mafia four years ago now,” Dazai says, the smile slipping from his face. “I left a lot behind, but you have to know that I don’t regret it. You seem to despise the light, Akutagawa-kun, yet you still look after me like I tore something out of your life. Even though I’m your enemy now.” He pressed the tips of his fingers together, his lips thinning. His coffee arrived at the table, but he didn’t seem to notice. “You consider Atsushi-kun your enemy, no?”
“Of course I do,” Akutagawa says, his lips twisting into a frown. “But I work with him when I have to, Dazai-san, I promise that-”
Dazai waves the comment away. “I’m not here about that. What I was trying to get at, Akutagawa-kun, is that while I don’t regret leaving the mafia, I do regret leaving some things unfinished…” He trails off, as if in thought. “I suppose I have to say… I…” He hesitates again, and Akutagawa blinks, wondering what he’s getting at. It’s something difficult for him to say, clearly. He moves to stop Dazai, tell him not to worry about whatever it is that he’s trying to get across, but Dazai finished his sentence in a rush. “I suppose I have to say I’m sorry. Not for leaving, but for tearing things apart for you.”
Akutagawa freezes. Dazai finally reaches for his cup of coffee, taking a sip of it. Akutagawa may be mostly sent out in combat situations, but he knows how to take note of details of situations like this. He doesn’t miss the way Dazai’s hands are shaking.
This isn’t easy for him. He has always looked up to Dazai for many things, and part of it has been the way he seems unflappable and composed at all times. It may be near imperceptible, but he’s definitely not composed right now.
Dazai isn’t quite done, though. He takes another sip of his coffee, then lowers it just slightly to say, “I may not approve of the mafia or the way things are handled there anymore, but you should know that I do think you have become strong, Akutagawa-kun. You did when we were fighting the Guild, and you’ve continued to grow since.”
Akutagawa gapes at him. Dazai granted him his approval just once before this, directly after the Guild fight, and Akutagawa couldn’t even stay conscious to fully appreciate what was happening. Now… he’s smart enough to know that Dazai is far from a perfect person. His experiences over the last few months alone have changed him. But his approval is still something that Akutagawa has desperately fought for, for months on end.
And now he doesn’t even know what to say.
Dazai takes another hasty sip of his coffee, and then stands quickly, setting the cup down. “Well then,” he says quickly, “I’d better get going, I have a lot of avoiding Kunikida-kun to do!”
“Dazai-san… wait!”
Dazai halts for just a moment, eyebrows arched in comical surprise. Akutagawa rises to his feet for just a moment, just to be able to look him in the eye. “Thank you.”
Dazai spins on his heel. “You’re welcome, Akutagawa-kun,” he calls over his shoulder on his way out the door. “Happy holidays!” he chirps, with complete disregard for the fact that he’s more than a little too late to say that.
Akutagawa slowly sits back down to sip from his cup of tea, staring blankly at Dazai’s abandoned, half-finished cup of coffee. There’s a warm feeling in his chest and lightness to his heart that he wishes he could get used to.
Then again… if Dazai was the one to approach him, maybe it’s something he’ll have more chances to experience.
Akutagawa allows himself to relax for just a few minutes more in the cafe, tea warming his hands and soothing his throat, and Dazai’s visit warming his heart and finally settling something in his mind. It’s not quite being just fine, he thinks, but a hope for better things moving forward. And that’s the best gift he could ask for.