Work Text:
— — — — —
The idea is… pretty entertaining, he’ll give it that. Has a lot of opportunities to simply lie around and play games under the desk should things become too boring. Is bound to bring back a hefty sum to the Agency, because this kind of thing tends to be rather popular amongst the masses. Also has already brought him some tasty morsels of knowledge, given that the idea surprisingly came from Ranpo-san.
It’s still rather boring and he’s languishing at the back of their tent on the festival grounds, conveniently tucked near the end and surrounded by gloomy-looking buildings. Ranpo-san and Poe-kun had insisted that it lends credence to the validity and mysterious aura of their tent. Dazai personally thinks that it only brings attention to the shadiness, both literally and figuratively, of the services they offer, but Ranpo-san is the most intelligent person he’s ever known so he does not protest otherwise.
Plus, it’s not like he’s all that invested in it. It’s still quite boring, in the way that their customers are mostly teenagers who just want to hear vague descriptions about someone tall, dark and handsome being their ideal date. There’s been the hilarity of Kenji-kun manning the booth for a half-hour and matchmaking some of the local yakuza with each other, but it’s the sole bright spot so far. Aside from the amount of funds they’ve raised—Kunikida-kun’s somewhere bemoaning the legality of what they’re doing while busy tallying the finances, especially since they’re operating under a different company name in a bid to distance themselves from soiling the reputation of the Agency.
Still, he allows himself to feel surprised when he spots the most unlikely customer approaching their tent.
And because he’s got respectable reflexes, no matter what a certain chibikko implies otherwise, he is very quick to react.
“Ow, Dazai-san—?! Why are you suddenly—?!”
It’s Atsushi-kun’s turn to man the counter, but he’s ill-equipped to handle their new customer. Dazai is being a good senpai by shoving him out of the way, before Chuuya can even sign his name on the guestbook upfront, a contract that states that their Organization washes itself off liability should the ideal dates turn out to be not so ideal, after all.
Despite the dim lighting inside the tent—mysterious fortune-telling aura, he reminds himself of Ran-Poe’s antics—it’s easy to see Atsushi-kun’s bewildered and disgruntled stare. He waves him off with a comforting smile; Atsushi-kun shudders in terror and hightails it out of the tent.
With seconds to spare, Dazai ducks down and grabs a spare blanket underneath. He’s been hoping to use it to catch a nap under the table that separates them from the customers, but he supposes that the beauty of his genius has reared its head once again. He uses the blanket as a shroud of sorts, ensuring that whatever part of his face that is left visible from the shoddy lighting is veiled by the cloth.
He internally congratulates himself on his excellent disguise proficiency, because Chuuya only looks at him strangely for a brief moment, and more importantly, does not screech out some incomprehensible nonsense about wanting to kill him so dead.
Dazai gestures to the seat in front of him, when Chuuya looks around the two-person tent instead of taking a seat like a normal person. He’s so tiny that the seat is possibly out of his line-of-sight, so Dazai’s being Extremely Helpful by pointing it out to him. He’s also half-tempted to say, “Sit”, as one would order a dog, but he has Plans for the chibikko, Plans that would require keeping up the illusion of being a stranger for a little while longer.
Chuuya gingerly takes a seat after a few more moments of looking around and examining the minimal décor. Mostly of black-and-white Tarot Cards printed on bond paper, courtesy of the printers in the Agency’s office, because they’re trying to raise funds, not waste them on buying expensive, original cards. Nor do they have funds to waste on buying colored ink.
During that time, Dazai wonders as to why the lighting is suddenly malfunctioning…? It’s supposed to be all dulled intensity, but even with that, he can spot the single bead of sweat on Chuuya’s hairline, and his eyes are also looking very bright? Of course, it’s possible that it’s thanks to his superior height that he can easily see the shorty’s hairline to begin with…
He clenches his fists, suddenly clammy on his lap. This is just making him want to ensure that his Plans work all the more!
He clears his throat and lets out the softest voice possible, low enough that it’s the furthest thing away from his usual singsong of victory whenever he’s teasing the tinier half of soukoku. One could even say that his voice is as low as the chibi’s height, but that would be lying, because that would mean that his voice cannot be heard at all.
In any case, he uses the softest voice possible and asks without gagging on his own tongue or breaking out in hives: “What can I do for you today, dear customer?”
Chuuya looks at him like he’s an alien, which proves that he really is a dumbass chibi who does not know basic human conversation. But then, the look passes, his blue eyes remaining very bright as they focus on his blanket-veiled face.
“I’m… looking for…” Chuuya continues to fail at human conversation, his eyes growing wild as his face starts to burn. Then, he tries again. “I wanted to know about my ideal… uh, person.”
Dazai clenches his teeth and nearly rips off his pants with how hard he’s digging his fingers into his thighs. Because… because it’s taking all of his effort to not burst into laughter, at the thought of the silly shrimp getting interested in dating or romance. And at the thought that Chuuya actually believes in their fortune-telling booth, when all they’ve had are lovesick, inexperienced teenagers! How silly can he be?!
More importantly, how come Hirotsu-san hasn’t said anything about this?! They’re supposed to be exchanging information about possible threats to Yokohama, aren’t they? If Chuuya starts getting distracted by dating, then he can’t do his job well as the Port Mafia’s eager dog! Which means that his already-empty head will be filled with distractions, which means that if Dazai needs him for a plan, then he might take a longer time than usual! This is clearly a threat to the city’s security, isn’t it?!
…Ah.
But not all is lost.
Dazai has Plans, after all. He just has to tweak it a bit so that it can work for his prime entertainment, while also ensuring that Chuuya’s budding interest in romance gets squashed flat.
Biting his lip first so he doesn’t crow in laughter, he then proceeds to say—
— — — — —
“—your ideal man is in Yokohama.”
Chuuya blinks hard. What the hell is shitty Dazai playing at?! Of course his ideal man is in Yokohama, why would he pine for someone not even in the same city as him?!
…Actually, more than that, why the hell is Dazai wearing a blanket like that? Urgh, he probably hasn’t taken a shower in the morning and is trying to disguise the uncombed state of his hair. He can’t think that it’s a sufficient disguise, right? Chuuya can see the tip of his nose quite clearly, and he knows that nose anywhere. It’s the stupid nose that butts into places where he’s not welcome, nosy idiot that he is. Plus, he recognizes this blanket, it’s the one that Dazai’s bought from a flea market en route to their mission in Tanegashima.
The only reason why he’s here to begin with is because this Valentine’s Day Festival is being held at the border of Port Mafia’s territories. Most of his colleagues have flourishing love lives, so he’s volunteered to do the patrol on their behalf. And then he’s heard of this incredibly shady booth and then he’s smelled the sense of bullshit. Lo and behold, Dazai really is involved in this shady business, his instincts really do not fail him when it comes to noticing such things.
But then… he’s not so sure he can keep up this calm façade. Because what the hell is Dazai playing at, here?! Does he not realize that Chuuya’s already realized who he is?! Why is he talking in that strange voice? He sounds like he’s fighting off a throat infection and… Chuuya’s stomach squirms upon hearing it. He… he’s probably just hungry, right?
Dazai is looking at him expectantly. Chuuya’s not quite sure how he’s managed to read that expression, given that only the tip of Dazai’s nose is actually visible to him at the moment, but he goes along with it.
“Uh, what does he look like then?”
It’s a reasonable question to ask, given that the entrance fee is rather exorbitant, and Chuuya might end up flipping the table if the only prediction they can give him about his “ideal person” is that he’s in Yokohama, one of the country’s largest and most populated cities.
Dazai obliges him, still with the strangely soft voice. “He’s very tall.”
Chuuya twitches. With admirable calm, he grits out, “And then?”
“Taller than you.”
Another twitch. “I got that.”
“Like, really so much taller than you.” The softness has given way to the usual snotty-asshole tone and Chuuya’s eyes are in grave danger of rolling out of his head.
“Can we stop with the height part already?”
“But it’s such an important part of your ideal person’s identity!”
If he hasn’t recognized Dazai from his nose or his blanket or the general fishiness, then there’s no disguising the annoying whine on his tone that appears whenever he’s too busy trying to tease his blood pressure into making him keel over from sheer irritation.
A pointed sigh of, “I’m not so sure I’d have an ideal person whose sole personality trait is in his bone structure.”
“The beauty that matters is on the inside,” Dazai says primly, with a muttered undertone of “Chibikkos really are too stupid”.
Chuuya generously ignores the muttering and retorts with a, “You’re talking about a literal inside, damn it!”
“Are you questioning our Company’s top-of-the-line fortune-telling skills?”
Is there really an answer for that aside from a resounding—“Yes!”
“It is because that you lack the belief in such things that you are still looking for your ideal person, instead of being with him.” Dazai makes it sound all sagely wisdom.
To the point that Chuuya briefly wonders if this is Dazai giving sensible advice about how Chuuya’s never really believed in higher power that’s stronger than what could be accomplished using his own efforts.
…But of course, because Dazai is a massive asshole, Chuuya already suspects…
“…Such things?”
“Such things that are too high for you to see,” comes the quick response. “Our Company’s credentials are printed at the top of the tent, it’s understandable that you can’t see it.”
“You asshole—!”
“—But, since you’re a paying customer, I shall proceed with the fortune-telling.” Dazai then rallies him back, deflating his sudden spike of anger. “Your ideal person is very smart. So smart, that he probably thinks you’re a stupid slug.”
“Should you really be insulting a paying customer?!”
“It’s not me, I’m just channeling your ideal person’s thoughts.”
“I highly doubt my ideal person would be that much of a bastard!”
“Mm, I’m afraid that that one is on you, for having terrible taste in men to begin with.”
“Terrible—?!” Chuuya then deflates again, because urgh.
“Your ideal person is also fond of being praised, being sent loads of money, and being pampered.”
His entire body twitches at that list of spoiled-princess traits. “Ha?!”
Dazai isn’t done though, steadily gaining steam as he continues: “Your ideal person also likes to be your number one priority, hates people who are more than five minutes late to appointments with him, and prefers to have a dog for life.”
Chuuya blinks.
And blinks again.
Is Dazai saying what he thinks he’s saying?
Is he—?!
Is he still not letting go of that One Damn Time during the Dragon Head Incident?! When Chuuya was five minutes late in coming to rescue him?! It’s been ages since that’s happened and Dazai’s still pettily counting it against him! When he could have been much faster if Dazai didn’t hide the clue to his whereabouts in some damn microscope, and just directly told him about his location!
Urgh, seriously.
Why has he been saddled with such an annoying person for a partner?
More importantly, why does he even like this bastard?
It’s all so stupid.
And perhaps the most stupid thing of all is that—
—he actually wants to hear more and indulge this shitty mackerel who thinks he’s being so clever in hiding his feelings like this, instead of making things simple by admitting things directly.
“…You…” Chuuya clears his throat in an attempt to regain his bearings, instead of doing something stupid like jumping over the table and decking Dazai in the face using his mouth. “You’ve managed to give me a lot of information.”
“I really am good, aren’t I?”
Fond of being praised and pampered, Chuuya recalls. “Not too bad,” he says, unable to say something more, but it’s apparently already enough for Dazai, who so obviously preens under his stupid blanket.
“But…”
“But?”
“Don’t fortune-telling services involve…” Chuuya’s hands are rarely clammy, which is a good thing because of his preference for leather gloves. He’s being failed by his sweat glands right now. “…Palm reading?”
Dazai sucks in a breath.
Before Dazai can let out words that would be in the tone of a child about to cry, Chuuya hastily scrambles to add, “I won’t offer it to just random strangers!”
The tension eases by a margin. Chuuya’s not sure whether he wants to laugh or laugh until he cries, because Dazai is so fucking stupid if he still thinks that Chuuya hasn’t sniffed his identity out. It’s also quite adorable. Fond of being praised, he repeats to himself. “I just think you did a good job with the descriptions so far, so I… trust you.”
It’s a far cry from, I trust you with my life, you shitty mackerel, but it’s fine for now. The tent they’re in isn’t big enough for such an admission.
Dazai is calmed by that statement though, because he does gesture for Chuuya to place his hand palm-up on the table. Dazai’s spindly fingers are trembling, the bandages on the jut of his wristbone exposed. Those fingers crawl like dangerous spiders all over his glove, the sensation feather-light but impossible to ignore as he slowly slips the leather off his hand.
Lately, it’s rare that he isn’t wearing gloves, so his skin is a bit more sensitive when Dazai cradles his palm and traces the lines on it.
Voice hushed, “Your ideal partner is super handsome. Also, unforgiving and petty. He’ll never allow you to be distracted by anyone else.”
You forgot condescending and shitty all-around, Chuuya doesn’t say. It’s an effort to not clasp Dazai’s hand back. “Sounds like he’s a lot of trouble.”
“He is,” Dazai agrees, the flutter of his eyelashes stark against his face even in the dim lighting. “So you shouldn’t involve yourself with him if you can’t commit to the trouble.”
A bark of laughter escapes him. Dazai flinches slightly, and Chuuya stops resisting the urge to hold Dazai’s hand to stop him from doing something stupid, like run away or hide from this.
“That ideal person doesn’t exist,” Chuuya says, keeping his voice light in the way that’s the complete opposite of how tightly he’s gripping Dazai’s hand. “In fact, the person you’ve described cannot be further from my ideal.”
Dazai’s blanket is starting to slip off his head. “…Are you complaining about our Company’s methods, dear customer?”
“It actually works out for the best,” Chuuya soldiers on. Speaking in circles has never been his preferred choice of communication, but it’s probably the only thing that makes sense for Dazai, right? So he has to do it like this. “Since I already have someone I like.”
“Who is it,” Dazai hisses, foregoing his flimsy disguise and leaning forward until he’s nearly cracking Chuuya’s head open with his.
Dazai’s furious jealousy burns so hotly against him, that Chuuya immediately discards any more lengthy explanations, and simply hisses back, “You forgot to describe yourself as someone so damn stupid.”
And just in case Dazai is still too emotionally constipated to understand, Chuuya closes the gap between them and erases any lingering doubts off with a forceful kiss.
Thankfully, that seems to have done the trick, because a few moments later, Dazai gasps out a, “what do you mean your ideal person doesn’t exist?”, in-between their kisses.
“You definitely aren’t ‘super handsome’,” Chuuya says quickly before his breath gets robbed from him again.
…As far as things go, it’s not a bad way to spend Valentine’s Day at all.
— — — — —
omake
“Delicious, top-tier, imported chocolate for Valentine’s!”
“That’s great, Ranpo-kun,” Poe tries to drum up his enthusiasm, but it’s a bit difficult to do so when he has his own batch of homemade chocolates waiting to be given to the detective in front of him. The detective who is already starting to stuff his face with the very expensive chocolate that’s made its way to his hands.
“Since you are my co-conspirator here, I am magnanimous enough to give you some.”
Even though these chocolates came from Nakahara Chuuya, since it has passed Ranpo-kun’s hands, this technically counts as chocolate from Ranpo-kun, right? Chocolates from his rival! That means that their bond is strong enough, the strongest amongst all rivals! “Thank you, Ranpo-kun!”
“It truly is great doing business with Fancy Hat,” Ranpo-kun says with an indulgent sigh as he bites into his chocolate bar. “And now that he’s together with Dazai-kun thanks to us, we can go and extort chocolate from him each time they hit a relationship milestone!”
That doesn’t sound too nice, but then that would mean that Ranpo-kun would keep on giving him secondhand chocolates, right?
So, there really is only one answer to that: “I shall write a novel about this chocolate extortion plan for you, Ranpo-kun!”
— — — — —
all’s well that ends well...?