Work Text:
On Chuuya’s rare day-off, he sets out to the nearest home depot so he can avail a new mattress.
The one he currently has in his house is the Western type bed instead of the usual futon, totally not because he wants something a bit taller than something flat on the ground. It’s served him well for the past couple of years, but the springs have started to dig into his back uncomfortably, and with how busy he is and dead-tired he gets, having a heavenly mattress would at least make his rest a lot more restful.
He’s seen a certain mattress get recommended a lot—it boasts of 10,000+ 5-Star Reviews. One of them says, “I almost died. There was a fire in my building. I slept through it.” Chuuya is instantly sold by the promise of such immersive sleep, especially since his neighbor has the tendency to wake up at odd hours of the night.
…He isn’t spying on his neighbor or anything, okay? But it’s hard not to notice when he can hear his neighbor, across the not-so-thin walls, wailing dramatically at random hours about some off-tune song that has very strange lyrics. What the fuck does a ‘painless, cheerful suicide’ even means? Is it euphemism for something else? He’s never known someone can wax poetic about failed suicide attempts, and he doesn’t want to pursue that line of thinking any further than he absolutely has to.
So, a new mattress.
There’s only one home depot in Yokohama that still has a stock of that mattress, both due to its viral popularity and also because futons are still the more popular bedding choice. The depot doesn’t accept reservations nor online orders, so Chuuya has to go there personally at the opening hour, in order to purchase the heavenly mattress.
And it’s because of all those that he ends up bumping into a bandaged mummy, right in front of the last stock of said mattress, both of their hands reaching out to touch the plastic sheet covering.
“…”
“…”
“Geh,” they say in unison, as something like electricity sparks off their fingertips when they brush together.
Chuuya balks at seeing the other man, a beanpole with twigs for arms, wrapped in so much bandages. So much, because this fucker is a full head taller than him, what the fuck. What the hell does he need a legendary mattress for, he’s already slept enough to be tall for an entire lifetime!
The other party’s gaze is stuck on his hat for a few seconds, before it blatantly slides down, then up, and then back down, as though literally measuring him and emphasizing their height difference. Bastard!!!
The salesman who was smiling in the periphery earlier wisely runs away, sensing a fight brewing in the air.
“I’m buying this one,” Chuuya says through gritted teeth. “Sorry,” very insincerely, “but I got here first.”
“Impossible,” the beanpole tells him with the kind of smile that invites a punch to the face, “with how short your legs are, you couldn’t have arrived here before me.”
Oh, it’s fucking on.
“You couldn’t have been here before me, could you even move with all those bandages?”
A flutter of eyelashes. “Why, worried about me, chibi?”
“No fucking way,” is his staunch denial. “It’s just that… I thought mummies were supposed to move sluggishly like the walking dead? How the hell were you supposed to walk fast?”
“I don’t expect you to understand, slug.” A disdainful sniff and an upturned nose. “I live in a world you can’t even dream of.”
He double-checks the other guy, his movements look normal-ish. Not someone who probably has actual injuries under his bandages. “One where you mistakenly think wearing a mummy cosplay makes you look good?”
“One for tall people who can make long strides.”
“I’m gonna punch you, asshole!”
“Ooh, I’m so scared for my ankles.”
Just for that, Chuuya kicks his right ankle, fast enough that the other shouldn’t be able to dodge. Mummy bastard does dodge, but barely. The tip of Chuuya’s shoe still hits him.
A melodramatic, “ow, you really came for my ankles, you brutish chibi!” resounds in the home depot, now basically emptied out except for the two of them.
Chuuya jabs a finger to the other’s chest, totally not because that’s the easiest part to reach. “I’ve been eyeing this mattress for quite some time now, so help me god, I will end you if you prevent me from buying it!”
“Come on, it’s not like you’ll grow any taller even if you sleep a lot!”
“Don’t you fucking curse me like that, I’m only twenty-two, I’ll just have a late growth spurt, damn it!”
“And here I am, thinking that you’re an elementary school child. I was about to send you to the information center to call for your parents, you know?” A fake-mournful shake of the head. “I guess I could be wrong every once in a while.”
“Your stupid-ass personality is wrong,” Chuuya says emphatically, shoving his finger harder against the other’s chest.
“Such a witty comeback, scary, sca—hey!”
Chuuya frowns as his second attempt at targeting the other’s ankles come up… short of their intended target. The… company he’s in provides security and bodyguard services, and they’ve been swamped with work, raking in a lot of cash and clients recently because he’s making a name for himself for being the strongest bodyguard. Nobody’s been able to defeat him in a fight, and nobody’s been able to dodge him twice. And yet, this slimy bastard has done it twice in the past ten or so minutes.
It’s absolutely impossible that the other man is a master of martial arts. So the only acceptable explanation is that he’s more tired than expected, which means he absolutely needs to get a lot of rest, which means he needs to purchase this mattress and get some sweet, sweet sleep soonest.
“I haven’t been able to get enough rest recently.” He opts for straightforward honesty. “So I really need to buy this mattress soon.”
“I’ve heard that this can make you sleep through a fire,” Beanpole returns, suddenly sounding civil.
“It must be really restful,” Chuuya agrees, hoping that this means that the other man will do the decent thing and relinquish his totally false claim that he’s arrived first.
“I also want to sleep through a fire,” Beanpole adds, a bit dreamily. “It’s very important for me to die a cheerful, painless death, you see.”
“What the flying fuck.”
“So I should get this—”
“—oi, shitty bastard, are you that crazy fucker from Room 10.”
Mummy Asshole lets out a dramatic gasp, raising both hands to cover his mouth. “Oh no, are you one of my stalkers?”
All of Chuuya’s breakfast and coffee threaten to make a reappearance as he both gets the urge to retch and also to laugh until his stomach gives out. Laughing uncontrollably wins out and he barely manages to gasp out a, “please… between the two of us… I’m not so… desperate I’d stalk someone like you.”
“I’m very stalker-worthy material though?!”
“What the hell does that even mean?!”
“Ah, does this mean that you’re that chibi with tacky hats on Room 9?”
“My hats aren’t tacky, you take that back, you liar!”
“You always come home at odd hours of the night wearing all-black suits…”
It’s Chuuya’s turn to gasp. But violently. “Are you stalking me?”
“Please, I’d need to carry a microscope with me at all times and I’m not about to lug along something as heavy as that!”
“How dare you call me a microorganism—?!” And then he blinks. “Just how weak are you, microscopes aren’t that heavy!”
“Nope, you’re just a muscle-for-brains chibi.” As though to prove that statement, the beanpole reaches out and squeezes his biceps. “See, you’re all muscle.”
“…Thanks?”
“Such a shame that all your protein went to them instead to your legs, huh?”
“I never skip leg day!” Chuuya copies a flamingo and inches his folded leg high enough that he can knee the shitty bastard in his stomach. “I have muscle here too!”
Beanpole shamelessly cups a feel there too, rubbing his thigh. “Right, you’re all muscle from brain to toe.”
“What the hell is ‘brain to toe’, you shitty bastard.”
“There’s only one solution then.”
“That you get the fuck out of here and compensate me for wasting my time?”
A solemn, “Let’s buy the mattress together.”
“No, no, that’s literally the furthest thing away from a solution!”
“We’re neighbors anyway, right? And if we share a mattress, then you can act as my bodyguard too while I’m sleeping.”
“Which part of our conversation led you to believe that I’m willing to breathe in anymore of your stupid-ass shit? And now you’re inviting me to move in with you?!”
“My place is filled with bandages—”
“—how the hell is that even possible—”
“—so it’s better if I move in to yours.”
“I think it’s better if we get back to the part where we’ve never met each other.”
The bastard suddenly squats and starts talking to Chuuya’s shoe. “Oh, I wonder where the chibi went, I can’t see him anymore…”
“Bastard—!” Chuuya swipes his leg forward, but the asshole dodges again, robbing him of the chance to decapitate the other with his kick.
“Oh, there you are!” The bastard even claps, as he jumps back to his feet. “If you also want to just buy it as a gift on my behalf, you can make it out to ‘Dazai Osamu’…”
Chuuya’s head hurts. “I’d sooner have a bomb delivered to your place.”
“You will?!” Dazai sounds, for the lack of better words: absolutely ecstatic. “Oh, you’re a much nicer chibikko than I thought!”
“It’s my way of saying you should go to hell, damn it!”
“And I gladly will~~~ Oh, is this your way of inviting me to a romantic double suicide—”
He grumbles, “It absolutely isn’t, who the hell still talks about suicide at your age?”
“—Chuuya?”
Purposeful drawl and it gets his attention quickly. He narrows his eyes. He’s pretty sure he’s never introduced himself and the ID that he’s brought with him on his wallet doesn’t use his real name. Part of his occupational hazards and precautions.
“Now, are you a little bit more interested in me?” Dazai’s eyes are twinkling under the lights. “If you agree to share the mattress, I might be so inclined to tell you how I’ve discovered your name?”
Chuuya bares his teeth at him, then pays for the mattress, Dazai tagging along while chuckling as though he’s won the lottery. This is absolutely fine, Chuuya comforts himself. It’s not like he’s interested in understanding the other further or anything.
“Shitty Dazai, the moment you close your eyes, I’m going to set you on fire,” he promises, as he pays for the mattress using his card.
Dazai places a hand over his, curling their fingers together in a tight grip. “I look forward to it, Chuuya.”
(The entire morning-shift staff of the home depot all breathe a sigh of relief as soon as the two of them leave, but they’re both more focused on breaking each other’s hands while bickering while walking away, so they didn’t even notice it.)