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There was a time in their lives when this was normal. Coming back to their room after a long, exhausting mission, and collapsing on the bed together, the lines they always draw blurry in these moments. Bickering even while brushing their teeth. Unwrapping old bandages. Putting on new ones.
Four years ago, Chuuya not only tolerated it but sometimes he found himself even looking forward to these odd hours of intimate normalcy between them. Now, however? Not so much.
As Chuuya massages the night cream into his skin, he can see Dazai spread out on his bed like a useless starfish in the mirror. Considering their mission 1) ended half an hour ago and 2) Dazai has his own damn hotel room, Chuuya is not very amused.
Once his skin is moist and glowing, Chuuya snaps the bathroom door shut with a bang, hopefully one that's loud enough to stir Dazai awake from whatever power nap he’s currently trying to take. Then he stalks to his bed and stops in front of the bastard. “Oi, Dazai. You’ve had the entire night to annoy me with your stupid face. Now piss off.”
“Ah. Did I forget to tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
Dazai takes his sweet time sitting up, his hair was slicked back and actually neat for the mission, but now it’s starting to resemble its usual coordinated mess. “I saw a spider in my room earlier. I can’t sleep there.”
“Ha? And how’s that my problem?”
“Well, you have a room and no spiders.” Dazai’s grin widens. “See where I'm going with this?”
“No.”
“Yes, Chuuya ~”
“ No . I’ll kill the fucking spider for you if you’re such a baby.”
“But Chuuya, there are too many spiders. The room is awful. Yours is much better!”
“No fucking way. I don’t care whether your room is on fire or crawling with bugs because your shitty agency can't afford anything better, but you’re not staying here.”
“Well, I’m not moving either. And I know for a fact that you’re tired.”
Chuuya grits his teeth. Dazai’s a lanky beanpole, sure, but dragging him all the way up to his own room doesn’t sound very appealing right now. That’s the only reason. He repeats the words like a mantra in his head – the only reason – as he tugs on the covers, ruffles his pillow until it’s big and fluffy, and eventually slips under the sheets. “I’d suggest sleeping like a normal fucking person,” he says, “if you don’t want me to kick you in my sleep and accidentally kill you.” Although, on second thought, the idea doesn't so bad.
Dazai doesn’t deign him worthy of a reply.
Well, great.
Rolling his eyes, Chuuya grabs his phone and starts going through messages from his team. Numbers. Receipts. Dates. A—
“Hey, Chuuya.”
Chuuya, only grunts in reply, focused on the content of his texts.
“Chuuuuya.”
“What?!”
“Have you ever kissed someone?”
The words take a few seconds to register. Then. What the fuck? Of course, he’s kissed, people. Does he look like someone who hasn’t? Not that there’s anything wrong with being twenty-two and unkissed – or whatever the term is for that… kiss virgin? To each their own, obviously. But Chuuya – well, he likes kissing. He’s good at it if he does say so himself, so what the fuck is Dazai implying?
Shutting off his phone, Chuuya glowers at the back of Dazai’s head like that will reveal what in the world this bastard is getting at once again. “Why are you asking?”
“I need to know what I’m dealing with here,” Dazai replies cryptically.
“I’m not discussing my sex life with you, idiot. We’re not teens anymore that giggle and blush over these things.”
“Then why are you evading to answer me at all costs?”
“ Because you’re annoying ,” Chuuya snaps, “that’s why.”
And, well, if he doesn’t sound like a seven-year-old child…
With an exasperated sigh, Dazai turns to look at him. “I’m asking because I haven’t.” Haven’t what…? “Been kissed.”
“Ha, ha…”
Dazai’s head tilts curiously.
Chuuya’s eyes narrow. “You’re joking.”
“Does it look like I joke around?”
“ Yes?!”
“Well, I’m not. I haven’t been kissed, but I would like to so that I’m prepared for the day I meet someone I want to kiss.”
“Okay…?”
“So…”
“So?”
“So let’s practice,” Dazai tells him, his eyes unusually bright. (It’s not that unusual. Dazai’s eyes haven’t been night-black for a long time now, and secretly, Chuuya’s glad. He hopes they’ll never return to that darkness.)
“You want us to practice,” Chuuya repeats flatly, feeling like he was thrown into the wrong movie, “kissing?”
“Yes, it’s what I’ve been trying to say for the last five minutes, chibi. Let’s practice.”
“No.”
“Why? Are you scared?”
Damn it all to hell! Chuuya kicks off the sheets covering his body and glowers daggers at his idiot pa— ex-partner. Former partner. “I’m not scared of some kissing!”
To Dazai, that’s apparently the closest he’ll get to a verbal confirmation. To Chuuya, it’s nothing like saying yes, fine, let’s practice making out, but it’s not a no either because Dazai’s a bastard who knows how to push his buttons which means that he knows Chuuya would never step down from a challenge.
“God,” Chuuya mutters, getting up, “I need a drink for this.”
“Heh, is chibi getting nervous, after all?”
“No! ” Sadly, the mini-fridge holds no wine, but there’s a mini bottle of champagne which will have to do for now. “I just don’t want to be sober when you slobber all over me.”
“I think you forget that you’re the dog in this relationship.”
Chuuya throws the bottle back and delights in the bubbly, warm rush of it in his throat before he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and shoots Dazai a wordless glare. Dazai only grins back contentedly as if everything is unfolding just the way he planned. Is it? Does Dazai want him to place the bottle on the desk and take a few steps towards him. Does he want Chuuya to step between his thighs, assess the situation and the logistics of what they’re about to do? Does he want Chuuya to press his palm over his chest?
“Okay,” Chuuya murmurs and swallows thickly, “I’m going to do –” He doesn’t really finish the sentence because explaining is unnecessary when it’s much easier to, more or less, climb into Dazai’s lap, his thighs spreading around Dazai’s slender hips and hands gently coming to rest on the shoulders of Dazai’s wrinkled button-up shirt. “It’ll be, uh, easier this way.” Chuuya sounds way too breathy for this shit.
Then again, Dazai is way too still for something he suggested as well.
Who’s the one getting nervous now?!
“Do you want to – to try?” Chuuya asks him and ignores the flutter of his heart at the intoxicating proximity between them. They’ve been close before, way too much for his liking, but never in this position and never with the intent of kissing. Fuck. “Or, do you want me to –“
Dazai’s hands slide up the length of his back, tugging him even closer, and Chuuya swears he can feel himself shiver. “I don’t know how,” he replies in a funny voice, “remember?”
“That never stopped you from doing things before.”
The expression that falls over Dazai’s face can only be described as grumpy. And of all the things to cross his mind, the word that does is: cute. Dazai is pouting, and Chuuya thinks that it’s cute.
“All right, all right, then I’ll do it, you big baby.” Chuuya can barely hear himself speak over the hammering of his pulse in his ears as he gradually moves closer. “Just – do what feels natural, I guess? And say if you don’t like something.” If he does like something… well, Chuuya’s pretty sure he’ll know.
Dazai’s eyes flicker down to his lips, then up, and he nods.
“Here goes nothing,” Chuuya murmurs, brushing one hand to softly hold the side of Dazai’s jaw as he leans in and presses his lips to Dazai’s.
The touch is so feather-light at first, it’s barely a kiss. A very sweet peck, if you will. Chuuya lingers there, waiting for Dazai to say no or push him off, but the words never come, so raising himself higher and thus closer ever so slightly, he brushes their mouths together once again, with a touch more pressure this time. Somewhere in the back of his throat, Dazai makes a noise. The blood pulsing through Chuuya’s veins purs, and he tilts his head a little, changing the angle of the way his lips slide over Dazai’s.
“Oh,” Dazai breaths out against him, “so it does feel good.”
Meeting his stare, Chuuya arches one brow.
“Again,” Dazai demands, ignoring the questioning look sent his way.
It’s at this exact moment that Chuuya should have stopped to rationally think and realize that there is no way in hell Dazai hasn’t actually kissed someone. Or realize that this is stupid. Or that Chuuya enjoyed this way too much for something he pretends to be annoyed about it.
But Dazai’s soft, pink lips are in the kissing distance, and Chuuya wants to hear that noise again.
“Again,” he agrees, and this time, it’s Dazai who crosses the space between them and slots their mouths together. Chuuya’s hand curls around the nape of his neck, returning his eager, little kisses with just as much, if not even more enthusiasm as their lips slide over each other in a wetter, slicker kind of way. It’s still tame all things considered, but fuck, that doesn’t stop Chuuya’s stomach bottoming out with every new curious and warm touch that’s pressed to his mouth.
It’s a little painful, too. Dazai tastes like apple-vanilla and sake, smells like the lingering scent of antiseptics, and Chuuya knows that smell, has gotten so used to it once upon a time that when it vanished one night, it felt like he had lost the ability to breathe.
This is a dangerous game to play, a very stupid one because it’s way too easy to forget that they stand at the opposite sides of the city on regular nights when Dazai keeps making these huffy noises against him, and when Chuuya is able to swallow them all too eagerly.
Again: there is no way that Dazai hasn’t done this before. Unless he’s really just a fast learner, which isn't that far-fetched of an assumption, really, Chuuya knows from personal experience. But not that fast… Then again, Chuuya never answered his question either. At this point, they’re both using the ruse of practice to make out like hormone-riddled teenagers with their first crush.
It feels way too much like that to give it a proper thought.
“H-how about,” Chuuya manages to breathe out as he turns his face enough to only linger against the corner of Dazai’s mouth, “some tongue?”
“Tongue,” Dazai echoes, all spaced out. “Uh-uh. I heard that’s supposed to feel good.”
Chuuya’s fingers slide through Dazai’s hair as he nods repeatedly. “Yeah, me too.”
Neither of them mentions that they’re big, fat liars as they meet in the middle. Chuuya suckles on Dazai’s lip, gives it a hint of teeth, and stifles a groan when Dazai opens up for him with a wet gasp. Even with the lingering knowledge that it’s probably not his first time doing this, Chuuya’s slow, playful as he coaxes Dazai’s tongue out of his mouth, rubbing it with his in maddening, hot strokes, then sucking on it until Dazai becomes a trembling mess under him.
Chuuya gives up on the pretense of leaving room between them, and fully settles his weight in his lap, his hips – only wearing a yukata and a pair of thin underwear, mind you -- stretching around Dazai’s crotch. A little making out isn’t going to make him pop a boner, but when Chuuya feels the growing bulge in Dazai’s pants – well, he just might.
Fuck.
“You’re going to be a –” Hands sliding down Dazai’s neck, Chuuya gives his plump upper lip a suck. “—a pro in no – time.”
“Y-you too,” Dazai breathes out and whines pitifully when Chuuya pushes him away.
Not because he wants to stop. God knows he couldn’t after getting a taste of this. But because he needs them to do this right. Slowly. Lightly. Without any rush or other expectations.
“Not going anywhere,” Chuuya promises and presses on Dazai’s chest until he understands and lies down, eyes hazy and half-lidded as he stares up at him. “You like it?” he asks then.
Lashes fluttering, Dazai nods. “Do you?”
“Yeah.” And then he leans down again, kissing Dazai, nice and slow. He pulls at Dazai’s lip, makes Dazai lean up and chase him back, and rewards him with his tongue licking inside his mouth, swiping over the slick ridge of his teeth until his lips buzz with it.
Sometimes Dazai stops only to murmur “this feels, ah , nice” and “that – do that ,” and Chuuya responds with more hunger and teeth and his participation in whatever stupid game of pretending they’re playing right now. Chuuya hasn’t needed to practice kissing for a long time now – even though one never stops learning, he supposes. Neither has Dazai judging from the way he makes Chuuya groan with heady heat trickling into his blood like syrup when his hands slide down to cup his ass, tongue grazing a particularly sensitive spot on the roof of his mouth.
But maybe – maybe they do need to practice… practice this kind of new intimacy with each other. The air between them isn’t full of explosives, threatening to go off at any moment. It’s not the cold wind that leaves nights and early mornings painfully empty without the other either. This is just… practice: a lie, but an easy, comfortable one.
At some point, Chuuya ends up on his side, face nuzzled into the dimple of Dazai’s cheek. He doesn’t know how much time has passed, just that everything feels warm and heavy, like he’s floating in a pool of honey. It’s been a fucking while since he spent so much time simply kissing somebody. Hell, this might even be a first. Because most of the time, kissing leads to sex, and there aren’t many people that Chuuya liked enough to keep in his life once that was done. There aren’t a lot of people he likes enough to kiss for this long either, no intentions or plans beyond that, and still, be as satisfied as ever by the end of it.
Yet here he is.
His eyelids flutter shut when Dazai brushes his mouth against him once more, ending their night like they started it: with a kiss that’s barely that. Just hot breaths of air against each other and the phantom pressure of lips.
“This was...” Dazai whispers, and Chuuya shivers involuntarily, fingers weakly clutching at the sheets, “... insightful. But I want to become an expert, so –”
“God, go the fuck to sleep already,” Chuuya mutters, but there is a smile hiding in the darkness of the room.
Tomorrow he can think about consequences. Tomorrow he can remember the warmth of Dazai's lips and wonder whether someone else will ever feel what Chuuya did when they pressed against him. Tomorrow he can face the fucking music of their little game, but for now...
"Good night, Chuuya."
"Night, Osamu."