Work Text:
Winter knocks on their windows instead of the door.
White cold has been bleeding in from the old wood for some time. Howling with the winds, letting some in and keeping rhythm with the croaking floorboards, the building breathes.
His bed is left unmade to cool and wait to catch the night with open arms.
Dazai finishes the task at hand; the flexible bands the woman at the shop assured that would keep the cold out are now secured where they needed.
The thought of fixing the windows flies off his shoulders so he can get another weight on them.
“Come here, love.”
The black —no, ashy gray— beauty blinks up huge green eyes. She makes it look so easy, springing into action like that.
An unfurling tail, a head gently bumped into his arm, she meows softly. “Do you think it’ll keep the cold out?” Fixing the fuzzy cloth on his cat, he keeps talking: “If it doesn’t we’ll have to move my desk away and dig the kotatsu out from the closet.”
Dazai taps on his shoulder, his feline friend leaps and perches on.
Holding the purring bundle of warmth is as familiar as the smell of the fresh, awakening elixir: The coffee machine’s single button shines red like an eye, unblinking. Upon a sniffle he inhales the upcoming day and exhales lazily swirling ideas.
The only mug in the cabinet is chipped, there are utensils laying around from his attempt at baking yesterday, he is yet to find something to put on the fridge like Chuuya told him to.
He pours the simmering brown into the ceramic, a domestic landslide. The morning air is chilling and a gloomy, sticky, rather grotesque shape of a deadline hangs on his nape.
But,
The cat in his arms kneads on his back, arms and neck. The memory of her sleepy face that was watching him from under the covers still makes him chuckle. She is always a bit lazy in the mornings.
So, to put it shortly, everything will be okay in the way sun touches the mountains:
Slowly but surely.
Mug in one hand, a bowl of raw meat chopped and weighed until it amounted to the nutrients his baby needs on the other, the aforementioned baby on his shoulder still, Dazai moves back to his desk.
He puts everything down on the table with respective care, knowing she will end up barging into his versatile workplace anyways.
Out of the windows he just —hopefully, that is— improved, watching the mass of green sway and shudder, he settles down.
Powering up his laptop is easy. Gathering his thoughts not as much. His story waiting with eyes on him, he wonders.
Wonders if he should take a walk on the park across him, wonders whether the sweet elderly couple downstairs needs more eggs yet. Dragging the stack of papers close, his pen scratches until the fence, rust and garden wall in his vision bends into dialogues, scenes and flashbacks.
Dazai covers the coffee mug with his scrambled notes without looking. It’s second nature by now. For all innocent she looks, that small black nose might end up in things that are not meant for her stomach.
Then, once the wheel sits on the rail, the rest is their routine.
She puts her head on his arm as he types and edits and deletes and rewrites— rolls over and shows her belly; closes like a flower clocking out at night and latches onto his arm playfully; hits the keyboard chasing his fingers and finally gets him to laugh.
Gets the attention on herself again.
“You,” Dazai says, saving the document and pushing his chair back. “You doof.” Several joints pop. He tugs at his wrists and stretches his arms.
Looking down at his loving companion, words are easy to say like butter on a pan: “You are so beautiful.”
Once again with a plethora meows, she follows his every step. Making a game of walking between and around his legs, rubbing against the tan sweatpants in all her feline grace, they walk together as the hour hand climbs on the clock to fall from the hill of noon.
“Yes, I know, I know. It’s time for your first lunch, gorgeous.”
Twenty four pages of the book he borrowed from Ranpo, she returns to lick and clean herself on his lap.
Dazai finds the faux feathers and the elastic string they’re tied to later, makes sure the little hunter in his house runs around, meeting arbitrary victories against imaginary birds.
With his second cup of coffee for the day, he paces around the living room. It’s a surprise, solving a knot his plot was suffering from while talking it out to her.
Still, he almost trips on his way back to his desk in hurry.
Before the temperature sulks even more all over their evening, he fills the bathtub with warm water he checks constantly. November has been giving gray skies lately. The bathroom lamp assigns itself a makeshift sun.
Her special shampoo smells of honey. Dazai thinks it’s fitting of her sugar cube heart.
She hasn’t objected to any baths since she was a little kitten the size of his palm.
Dazai washes her gently with no hurry. The dark skin like suede under his hands, he makes sure all folds and wrinkles are cleaned.
Before afternoon catches up, she closes her eyes almost sleepily in the low water.
It’s almost a rural magic, how calming the task is.
Laughing as he gently pours more warm water on her, Dazai’s voice is warm: “Good, yeah? Getting you all nice and clean.”
Smooth paws gently massaged in careful hands, he realizes he’s not thinking about his editor or publishing house anymore. It’s magic.
“Miss you are such a good cat. Clever cat. You know this is all for you, don’t you? I’m sure you understand everything.”
Rinsing comes as easy and smooth as the water over her now clean skin. Light green eyes open to gaze at him again. “Of course you do. You understand more than most humans, I’m sure.” She blinks slowly.
Cotton embraces her around the eyes and ears, towel dry and secure around the remaining parts.
Getting on a purple hoodie long enough to warm her front legs too is the only thing standing between her and her well deserved treat.
Warm, clean and —rightfully— spoiled, she then gets on the kitchen counter to watch what Dazai is up to.
“We should go out tomorrow, if your coat dried completely.”
She meows in answer.
“Right? This chapter was a nightmare. I just want to be done with it and go to the park tomorrow— Maybe we can visit Odasaku, no? Would being in the campus scare you? Maybe if we go when no class is in session…”
Her food is no light matter. The servings of chicken and fish are readied ahead of time; it’s his own dinner that Dazai is reluctant on. “Or maybe we’ll just go to that coffee shop from before. Oh but we have to walk a bit. Do you mind?”
Looking up from the chopping board he easily leans over and kisses her forehead, many, many times. Like a spring dragged and left to bounce, she gets up from her loafing and licks at his nose.
The evening is not as cold as he feared. Maybe the windows worked.
Laughing and closing his eyes, Dazai places his forehead against the cat’s warmer one with familiarity.
“You don’t? Good, we’ll try on your new boots too then. You’re going to look so good.”
With his cat standing on her hind legs, front paws on his chest; with shadows shyly inviting themselves inside the small house, their home feels warmer.
Dazai looks forward for tomorrow. And the ones after.