Work Text:
The first time Dazai and Chuuya had fallen into bed together was when they were sixteen and stupid. It had been after a particularly rough mission that required Corruption and when Dazai had been in one of his depressive episodes, when they had both needed to feel something.
There had been no resemblance of romance at all during that night, the two teens too filled with hormones and emotional constipation to think about anything other than getting off. It was rough and harsh, teeth scraping against skin, moans being drunk in through greedy lips, bruises in the shapes of fingers left to remind them of what they had done.
They never talked about it afterwards, and Dazai had already been gone by the time Chuuya woke up. They seemed to have an unspoken agreement that if they never talked about it, they could continue making use of the odd new shift in their dynamic.
Thus started the routine of seeking each other out when they wanted that physical connection or, in some cases, just some sort of sexual relief that they only trusted each other to provide. It was a quick fuck-and-go, never staying longer than absolutely necessary. No strings, no emotions, no attachments, no problem.
That all changed when Dazai left the mafia and along with it, Chuuya.
It had taken them a long, long time to reconnect after their reunion and even longer to fall into something akin to a relationship, but they managed to pull through. Dazai and Chuuya each had a wedding ring around their ring finger and the scars, both mental and physical, to prove it.
It had taken them almost a year of being together for them to fall into bed with each other once more, both held back by insecurities and scars they were afraid of the other seeing. It was also nothing like their mafia days.
It was slow and emotional, an unspoken I love you in each rock of Dazai’s hips and an even quieter I love you, too in the gentle kisses Chuuya pressed to his partner’s jaw as encouragement to keep going. It was the hidden you’re safe as Dazai wiped away the tears accumulating in Chuuya’s eyes, stemming from years of emotional denial. It was the unshakable I trust you as they hit their highs together, Chuuya holding Dazai as he rode it out before letting the brunette clean him off for the first time instead of just doing it himself.
By the end of it they were strung out and exhausted in more ways than one, snuggling into each other before drifting off into a deep sleep. The final push was when Chuuya opened his eyes in the morning to see Dazai staring back at him, the corners of his honey brown gaze crinkling with his smile.
Dazai could never convince Chuuya to leave the mafia but he had convinced the redhead to marry him, so that’s a win in the detective’s mind. Speaking of, Dazai hadn’t annoyed Chuuya nearly enough that day. . .
“Dazai-san,” Atushsi said timidly from his desk, and his mentor looked up.
“What’s up, Atsushi-kun?” Dazai grinned, and his protege’s eyes flicked over to where Kunikida was printing out some documents in the corner.
“You might want to consider doing some work, Kunikida-san seems very uptight today,” Atsushi suggested, and Dazai sighed.
“But Atsushi,” he protested. “Kunikida-kun is always uptight, and besides! It’s raining today and we haven’t gotten any new cases in a while, one day of being lazy won’t harm anyone.”
“Make that every day, you fool,” Kunikida interjected, coming up behind Dazai and smacking him on the back of the head with the folder he was carrying. “The day you actually do work is the day the world is ending.”
“So mean,” Dazai pouted, rubbing his head, before an idea hit him and he grinned devilishly.
“No,” Kunikida said flatly, walking away.
“I haven’t even said anything yet!” Dazai called after him, but his work partner was apparently not having it.
“I know that look!” Kunikida refuted. “And no, we’re not doing whatever stupid idea you have in mind.”
“Just hear me out,” Dazai started, swiveling in his chair. He put on his best smile and Kunikida sighed, muttering to himself as he turned around and put his hands on his hips.
“Alright, just spit it out,” Kunikida said tiredly. “You have five seconds before I go back to my work.”
“I propose a simple game of truth or dare,” Dazai said seriously, and Kunikida blinked twice before he seemed to register what the other had said.
“That’s ridiculous,” Kunikida finally scoffed, tapping his foot on the tiled floor of the agency. “No one would want to play such a stupid game.”
“Oh really?” Dazai questioned, raising an eyebrow. He leaned his head back, the back of his chair digging into his neck.
“Yosano-sensei!” he yelled, and the doctor popped her head out of her office.
“What?” she yelled back despite now being in the same room, and Kunikida looked ready to burst a vein.
“Wanna play truth or dare?” Dazai asked, kicking off the legs of his chair so he spun around.
“Hell yeah,” Yosano grinned, the back of her heels clipping sharply against the floor as she walked over.
“Great!” Dazai chirped, clapping his hands together. He turned to Atsushi next, knowing asking Ranpo was useless since he would go along with anything to escape his own boredom.
“Atsushi-kun!” Dazai said, and the poor boy jumped in his seat at the sudden attention.
“Y-yes?” he squeaked.
“Wanna join us?” Dazai took pity on the boy and lowered his voice, and Atsushi glanced nervously at Kunikida before nodding his head.
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt,” Atsushi said, and Dazai looked smugly over at his partner.
“Fine,” the blond man finally snapped, tucking his beloved notebook into his vest before setting the papers he was holding down on a nearby desk. He practically stomped over to where the agency members were gathering at a free spot on the floor, looking rather irked.
Dazai hopped off his chair and strolled over to join his coworkers, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He had a few ideas of what he wanted to ask his colleagues (nothing too incriminating of course, in case Kunikida actually did kill him if he went too far), but he had an inkling of what the questions towards him were going to be about.
“I can’t believe this,” Kunikida grumbled, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a huff.
“But you can, Kunikida-kun,” Dazai teased, opting to sit in between Yosano and Atsushi. It was a gamble with Yosano’s sadistic streak, but what’s life without a little danger?
Kenji, Kyouka and Ranpo decided to join in as well, until all the members of the agency were sitting in a circle on the floor. Dazai could tell some of them felt a little ridiculous and frankly it was, but no one else offered any ideas of what to do, so they were stuck with what they got.
“All right, first some rules,” Kunikida started, opening his notebook and taking out his pen. “The dares and questions have to be within reason, and someone can refuse their question or dare if they’re truly uncomfortable.”
“Boo,” Ranpo cut in, sticking out his bottom lip. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“The rules stay,” Kunikida said flatly, and he stared Ranpo down. The genius detective finally backed off, raising his hands in defeat.
“Who’s going to go first?” Kunikida asked once everyone had settled down again, and Ranpo waved his hand wildly in the air. Kunikida nodded to him, and the game began.
“Kenji-kun,” Ranpo said, fixing his closed-eye stare on the younger boy.
“Yes?” Kenji tilted his head to the side, and Dazai got a sinking feeling in his stomach.
“I dare you to go down to the cafe and get me some cake!” Ranpo ordered, and multiple sighs resounded throughout the room.
And there it is, Dazai thought to himself as Kenji nodded and stood up, skipping out of the agency without a care in the world.
“Who’s going to go now?” Yosano groaned where she sat next to Dazai. “And I was looking forward to seeing so much blackmail material. . .”
“Is that all you think about?” Kunikida muttered to himself before clearing his throat and saying louder, “I guess I’ll go. Yosano-sensei, truth or dare?”
“Truth,” Yosano said, gaining her surprised looks from all over the room. “What? All of Kunikida’s dares are boring, I want a good one from someone else.”
“Anyway,” Kunikida pressed, his brow ticking in irritation. “Yosano-sensei, what’s your favorite part about healing patients?”
“Hearing them scream,” Yosano replied easily, and a collective chill ran through the room and made the hairs on the back of Dazai’s neck stand straight up. He was internally grateful he’d never been on the receiving end of Yosano’s “treatment”.
“Dazai,” Yosano continued as if she hadn’t said something slightly worrying a few seconds prior. “Truth or dare?”
Dazai hummed, considering his options. If he chose truth he knew his friends would (hopefully) respect his boundaries and the things he couldn’t talk about, but on the other hand dares could get quite serious. He didn’t have the energy to deal with them at that moment.
“Truth,” he decided on and Yosano tapped her chin, thinking.
“How often do you and Nakahara have sex?” she asked bluntly, and Kunikida sputtered in his seat as Dazai’s eyebrows shot up. He certainly hadn’t been expecting that. Half of the agency members were red-faced and pointedly looking away, but Dazai simply shrugged.
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I don’t keep track of that stuff.” Anymore, he wanted to add on, but he voted against it. He wasn’t embarrassed talking about his sex life, not by any means. They were all grown adults with a few exceptions being the teenagers; it was childish to get embarrassed by it.
“Then I dare you to call Nakahara and ask him,” Yosano said, and protests broke out amongst the group.
“Are you even allowed to do that. . .?” Atsushi inquired shyly, fiddling with his hands.
“That’s against the rules!” Kunikida barked, opening his notebook and taking out his pen once more. “According to the rules of truth or dare, one person is allowed to ask one question or dare at a time-”
“Rules are made to be broken,” Yosano fired back, looking unconcerned of the havoc she was wreaking.
Dazai shrugged and slipped his phone out of his pocket, entering in Chuuya’s birthday to unlock it. He opened his contacts and selected his favored contact, “Slug,” the fond nickname he had given to his husband all those years ago. He pressed on the call button and put the phone on speaker, immediately silencing everyone else in the room as they leaned in closer to hear.
Chuuya picked up after the second ring, indicating his phone had been on his desk. Dazai smirked at the thought, knowing Chuuya had been waiting for him to pester the mafioso while he was at work.
“What the hell do you want, you shitty mackerel?” Chuuya said gruffly as a greeting. “You know I’m at work, you menace."
“I’m wounded, Chuuya!” Dazai cried dramatically, clutching at his chest. “And here I was just trying to check up on my dog like a good owner.”
“Bullshit,” Chuuya said sharply. “And why am I on speaker?”
“I’m sitting on the agency floor with the others, we’re playing a game,” Dazai answered truthfully, and the line went silent.
“. . .I’m hanging up,” Chuuya warned suddenly.
“Wait, wait!” Dazai interjected, holding his hands up in surrender even if Chuuya couldn’t see him. “Alright, I give. There actually was a reason I called.”
“Oh?” Chuuya sounded skeptical, and Dazai could hear the springs of his chair creak as the executive leaned back in his seat. “Let’s hear it, then.”
“Yosano-sensei wants to know how often we have sex,” Dazai said, absentmindly noticing the string of blushes that broke out across his colleagues.
“Hah?” Chuuya drawled out in the way that sent butterflies bursting in Dazai’s stomach. “Did you get some sort of weird disease or something?”
“No, no, darling, it’s for truth or dare,” Dazai informed him, and Atsushi leaned over the phone.
“Hi, Chuuya-san,” he said, waving a hand even if the other man couldn’t see him.
“Hey, Atsushi,” Chuuya greeted, and Dazai scoffed.
“How come he gets a nice greeting and I don’t?” he whined, and he could practically sense the shorter man rolling his eyes.
“Because you’re an ass and he’s not, simple,” Chuuya said blandly, and Yosano cut in before their bickering could continue.
“What’s your answer, Nakahara?” she interrogated, and Chuuya hummed over the line.
“Probably once to twice a month?” he finally said, sounding unsure. “I don’t know, I don’t keep track of that stuff. Whenever the mood strikes, I suppose.”
“I thought that number would have been a lot higher,” Tanizaki supplied from where Naomi was hanging off him, and he gathered nods of agreement from multiple people.
“I thought it was every day,” Naomi agreed with her brother.
“If you asked during our teens years, that number would have been very different,” Chuuya laughed, and it sounded genuine. Dazai couldn’t help the small smile that stretched across his expression at the sound, and his lips longed to pull his husband in for a kiss.
“How much higher are we talking?” Yosano asked.
“Ah,” Dazai couldn’t help but say, and it seemed his partner felt the same.
“Sorry, sensei, that’s classified,” Chuuya teased over the phone, but there was a hard edge to his tone that signaled the questioning was over. Dazai was secretly grateful. He had been an entirely different person back during his mafia days, using Chuuya however he pleased to fit his own needs. Although he had already been forgiven, they weren’t times he liked to revisit.
“‘Samu, what time are you coming home?” Chuuya’s voice pulled Dazai out of his thoughts, and he snatched the opportunity presented.
“Whenever you call me home, my prince,” Dazai sang, and multiple people rolled their eyes.
“Ugh,” Chuuya groaned. “Why did I marry you?”
“Why did you fall in love with me?” Dazai sniped right back, grinning from ear to ear.
“. . .touché,” Chuuya mumbled, and Dazai snickered.
“Enough lovey dovey stuff,” Ranpo complained, crossing his arms. “This is getting boring!”
“Alright, alright,” Dazai relented, shifting his phone in his hand. “I have to go now but I’ll be home soon, darling.”
“You better be, or I’ll kick your ass,” Chuuya huffed, but no one could miss the fondness in his voice. Chuuya ended the call, and the line went dead. Dazai couldn’t help but stare at his husband’s contact a little longer, the gloomy weather catching up to him and weighing down his bones.
“Now that that’s over, Atsushi, truth or. . .” Dazai spaced out, not hearing the rest of what Yosano said, his mind too focused on the feeling of warm arms and the smell of home waiting for him.
Dazai pushed his key into the lock, opening it with a soft click. He turned the handle slowly, swinging the door open with less gusto than usual. A dim hallway greeted him home and he shrugged off his coat and shoes, placing them in their proper positions by the door.
The brunette wandered into his home, glancing around for a certain hat-loving mafioso. He found who he was looking for in the living room, and Dazai approached with a small smile.
Chuuya was lounging on the couch, his head resting against the pillows and his eyes closed. An empty wine glass sat on the small table next to the couch, a different type of glass filled with smokey liquid keeping the empty glass company. It always broadened Dazai’s smile to see the little things Chuuya did for him, pouring him bourbon instead of wine being one of them.
“Honey, I’m home,” Dazai said cheekily as he flopped down onto the couch next to his husband.
“Bastard,” Chuuya said sleepily, cracking his beautiful azure eyes open to meet Dazai’s amber gaze. Despite the insult, the redhead still shifted his weight to lean against his partner. Dazai instantly lifted up his arm so Chuuya could snuggle in closer to his side, his husband resting his head against his shoulder and curling up like a cat. Dazai’s arm settled around Chuuya again once the latter was done repositioning himself, and the detective finally let himself feel the day’s fatigue.
The type of domestic bliss they had gotten used to wouldn’t have existed back in their mafia days. The fleeting thought that a lazy day like the one they were experiencing would have ended in sex back then crossed Dazai’s mind, and he subconsciously tightened his hold on the half-asleep slug next to him. The game of truth or dare resurfaced in his mind next, and he mused to himself. He and Chuuya had so many ways of showing love and affection the need for sex simply wasn’t there, instead reserved for special occasions. However, the game had also resurfaced old insecurities the ex-mafioso thought he had buried a long time ago.
“I can hear you overthinking, stop it,” Chuuya mumbled, and Dazai snorted.
“My deepest apologies, your majesty,” he said sarcastically, earning him a half-hearted smack to the side.
“God, you’re the worst,” Chuuya said, wrinkling his nose.
“Yes, I’m the worst,” Dazai sighed, letting the dramatics take over. “The absolute worst, a stinky mackerel, a downright awful bastard-”
Chuuya surged up to slot their mouths together and Dazai made a pleased noise in the back of his throat, his goal accomplished. Chuuya’s lips moved perfectly in sync with his own and Dazai melted, basking in the taste of his husband.
When Chuuya pulled away he pressed one last kiss to Dazai’s chin before settling back into his partner’s arms, letting out a content sigh that had Dazai’s heart soaring.
“Better,” Chuuya slurred, and the brunette couldn’t resist placing one last kiss onto fiery red locks as they both got comfortable again.
Dazai stroked random patterns along Chuuya’s arm as they drifted in and out of consciousness, the time growing ever later. Now that they were both still and satisfied, Dazai was starting to realize how much both of them needed a bath.
“Hmm, Chuu,” Dazai managed to say, patting his husband’s arm in an effort to wake him. Chuuya stirred and looked up at him through hazy azure orbs, blinking some of his sleep away.
“We gotta shower,” Dazai said, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand.
“Why,” Chuuya whined, a testament to how truly tired he was. Normally, the mafioso would have been caught dead before he complained or whined about anything.
“Come on, let’s get up,” Dazai tried again, sitting up and taking his husband with him. Chuuya groaned but finally yielded, sitting up as well and stretching his arms above his head. His joints popped from sitting still for so long and Dazai strode out of the room to their bathroom, deciding to run a bath for them both.
He put some of the soap he knew Chuuya adored that had infused oils in it into the water, making bubbles swell as it foamed. The tub would take around fifteen minutes or so to fill up so he walked back into the living room, chuckling when he saw Chuuya still lying on the couch.
“Up we go,” Dazai said softly, taking his husband’s hands as he pulled him up and into a hug. Chuuya regained enough sense to wrap his arms around his mackerel in return, burying his face into Dazai’s chest. The two stayed like that for a moment, enjoying each other’s warmth, but Dazai knew they eventually had to separate.
“Come on, love,” he said, pulling away from Chuuya. He took the sleepy redhead’s hand and led them back to the bathroom, closing the door behind them in case anyone decided to walk uninvited into their home. It had only happened once, but once was enough in the detective’s mind.
Dazai helped Chuuya discard his vest, shirt, and pants, shutting off the water flowing into the tub so it wouldn’t overflow. The brunette pulled his own shirt over his head before stripping out of his pants, leaving his clothes in a heap to be washed later. He noticed Chuuya fumbling with his choker in his half-conscious state and unbuckled it for him, leaving the strap of fabric to fall to the floor.
Dazai got into the water first, checking the temperature to make sure it wasn’t too hot or cold before settling down. He then held out a hand for Chuuya to take, helping him into the water slowly to make sure he wouldn’t slip. Chuuya sat down in between Dazai’s legs and rested his back against his husband’s chest, wiggling down further into the water until his own chest was submerged.
Dazai wasted no time in loosely embracing Chuuya from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder while simultaneously nuzzling into the redhead’s neck. He pressed feather light kisses to the skin he found there, his lips curling into a smile when Chuuya shivered in delight.
“‘M too tired tonight,” Chuuya protested weakly, and even though it wasn’t his intention, the words still made Dazai wince.
“I wasn’t trying to be like that,” he assured, bumping the side of his head fondly against his partner’s. Chuuya craned his neck to look at Dazai through hooded eyes, studying him critically.
“What’s wrong, ‘Samu?” Chuuya asked, his gaze regaining some clarity at the possibility that something was wrong.
“It’s nothing, love,” Dazai said quickly, kissing his collarbone. It always surprised him with how easily the other could read him.
Chuuya didn’t look like he believed one word coming out of the detective’s mouth, and he frowned. “Was someone mean at work?” he mumbled, picking one of his hands out of the water to rub some of the sleep from his eyes. “That truth or dare game you were tellin’ me about. Did someone say something mean?”
“No, I was just. . .” Dazai trailed off as he pursed his lips, unsure if he should spill or not. Chuuya must have sensed his hesitation because he placed a calloused hand on his husband’s cheek, stroking his thumb over Dazai’s cheekbone.
“Osamu, tell me what’s wrong,” Chuuya said softly in the way he knew Dazai couldn’t resist and damnit, the brunette was wondering how in the hell he got so lucky.
Here goes nothing.
“Do we have sex enough?” Dazai blurted out before he could chicken out, and Chuuya’s frown deepened.
“What makes you say that?” he questioned and Dazai dropped his head onto Chuuya’s shoulder, not having the energy to hold it up anymore.
“When Yosano-sensei asked me how much we have sex it reminded me of how little we actually do it compared to our teenage years, so I guess I just thought-”
“That we don’t do it enough,” Chuuya finished for him, and Dazai nodded glumly.
“Osamu, don’t you think I would have said something if we didn’t have sex enough?” Chuuya sighed, flicking the top of his partner’s head. “For such a genius, you’re really an idiot sometimes. We don’t have sex that much because we don’t need to, dumbass.”
Dazai looked up at that, perplexed. His expression must have said it all because Chuuya’s frown eased out into a small smile, and he placed a kiss on Dazai’s forehead.
“I already know you love me, I don’t need sex to prove that,” Chuuya said gently. “This isn’t like our mafia days where you’re emotionally constipated. Well, you still are but you’re better now, you know you can get the human connection you crave whenever you want.”
“Chuuya’s so mean,” Dazai pouted but the words eased the pressure in his chest in an instant, leaving room for a surge of affection that rose up in him. He tilted his head down to press his lips against Chuuya’s own, deepening it when the redhead didn’t pull away. As enjoyable as it was they had to separate after a few moments, catching their breath.
“Now stop overthinking,” Chuuya commanded, and Dazai gave him a sheepish grin in apology.
Chuuya turned back around so they could resume their earlier position, and Dazai pumped some shampoo into his hand. He rubbed his hands together before lathering the shampoo into Chuuya’s scalp, gently massaging his husband’s delicate curls. Chuuya let out a serene breath, tilting his head back and letting Dazai work his magic.
When Dazai was finished with his task he took the showerhead, turning the water on low. He made sure it was the correct temperature before rinsing Chuuya’s hair out, making sure no soap was left since he didn’t want to irritate his husband’s skin. When Dazai had confirmed there was indeed no shampoo remaining he placed conditioner in his hand next, working it into Chuuya’s orange curls and taking the opportunity to mold his partner’s hair into odd shapes.
Chuuya’s weight against him seemed to increase, and the redhead barely moved when Dazai washed the conditioner out. The water around them was beginning to cool and was fairly dirty, indicating they would have to get out soon.
“Sweetheart,” Dazai said, gently nudging the man in front of him. When Chuuya didn’t respond, Dazai set the showerhead back into place. He peered over Chuuya’s shoulder in order to see his face, perplexed.
His husband was blissfully asleep, his chest rising and falling at an even pace. The tension that haunted Chuuya’s features during the day had vanished, uncovering the dark bags underneath his eyes. The sight made Dazai smile softly, and he kissed Chuuya’s temple lovingly.
“Goodnight, my darling,” he whispered, but Chuuya didn’t stir.
Dazai made quick work of washing himself so as to not wake his partner, unplugging the drain to let the water out when he was finished. He maneuvered himself around Chuuya when he got out of the tub, leaning back down to carefully pick Chuuya up in the bridal carry. Dazai set him down on the toilet, making sure he wouldn’t fall off before grabbing a towel.
Chuuya didn’t awake as Dazai gently dried him off before himself, making sure he wrung out his husband’s wild locks or else he would get an earful in the morning. Dazai didn’t bother covering himself as he walked out of the bathroom to their bedroom and got some clothes, selecting a pair of boxers along with a shirt for Chuuya and a simple pair of pajama pants for himself.
Dazai hummed lowly as he entered the bathroom again, tugging on his pants without putting on his bandages before addressing the issue that was getting Chuuya dressed without waking him up. He wasn’t that worried since Chuuya slept like the dead, but it was still nerve wracking.
Dazai was able to slide the boxers up until Chuuya’s lower thighs, where they were then stopped by the toilet from going any further. The brunette managed to finish his work by standing Chuuya up and resting the chibi’s weight against himself, supporting him as Dazai finished pulling up the boxers. After sitting Chuuya back down on the toilet getting the shirt on him was a much simpler task, and two minutes later both of them were fully dressed.
“‘Samu. . .” Chuuya mumbled deliriously when Dazai picked him up again in a bridal hold, and the latter chuckled lightly.
“I’m here, love,” Dazai promised him as he entered their bedroom, settling Chuuya down on their king sized bed before getting underneath the covers himself.
“You better be. . . or I’ll kick your ass. . .” Chuuya garbled, but the other had been on the receiving end of his threats so many times he understood perfectly.
“Yes, yes, you can kick my ass in the morning,” Dazai snickered, pulling up the covers higher. Chuuya cuddled into his rarely bare chest in his sleep, and Dazai wasted no time in throwing an arm over his husband’s waist to pull him closer.
“Shitty mackerel. . .” Chuuya trailed off, pulled back into the call of sleep. Dazai couldn’t fight back the smile that wanted to appear any longer, and he vaguely realized his previous thoughts had stopped in their tracks.
“Thank you, Chuuya,” Dazai whispered, placing one last kiss on his husband’s forehead with the night as his only witness. He eventually fell into sleep himself, dreaming of shared laughter dancing in azure orbs and vibrant orange hair.
Sure, they had rough patches, and they were far from perfect. They fought, they argued, they screamed, they cried, but they also loved more deeply than anyone else. Dazai knew, with all of his scarred heart, that he wouldn’t change a damn thing as long as he still got to call Chuuya Nakahara his partner in every aspect of life. They didn’t need to have sex to prove that to themselves, or to anyone else.
What they had was already enough.