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One of the good things about getting into a relationship with one’s roommate is that they already have a good idea of each other’s disposition away from public eyes.
They’ve already seen each other at their worst. Whether it be black-out drunk while proposing marriage to the toilet bowl, to woodenly singing a double suicide song while attempting to drown in the bathtub, or breaking each other’s noses from an ill-advised fist-fight—they’ve already done it all.
Because their previous relationship has started out with vehement animosity, the two of them screaming or squabbling about is already considered as white noise by their neighbors. No matter what they do now, nobody would be calling the building manager and nobody would be reporting a possible murder scene. Not anymore.
One of the unpleasant things about getting into a relationship with one’s roommate—especially one that has a forcibly-estranged relationship with privacy and decency—is that it’s so fucking difficult to have a moment of peace so he can think of how to ask the other out on a goddamn date.
How is this the most difficult part?!
They’ve literally gone from a pair of enemies who have actually stabbed each other at the back of the school’s gym to stabbing each other’s mouths using their tongues instead! That is one hell of a relationship development already! And now that they’re actually boyfriends, now he’s having problems on thinking of how to deal with him?!
Urgh, So annoying! Dazai is so annoying!
As though he has a radar for whenever he’s getting insulted—mentally or vocally—Dazai does a half-roll so they can be plastered tighter together. The bed is too cramped for two fully-grown men, but it’s kind of comforting to know that because there’s not much space, it’d be easy to reach out and strangle the mackerel if he becomes too irritating.
“Chuuya, I could sense you thinking about me,” comes the other’s self-assured voice. He ignores his game and starts rubbing their foreheads together, as though to literally read his mind by way of skin-to-skin osmosis. “You’re thinking about how cool, handsome and tall I am, aren’t you?”
“The moments I think about your height are moments when I think about breaking your legs,” he clarifies with a scoff.
It isn’t a complete denial. Something that Dazai obviously delights from, moving so that he’s peppering kisses all over his face. Chuuya thinks about teasing the other for slobbering all over him like a dog, but he bites that down.
One of the perks of having a roommate for a boyfriend means that they get to have these small moments of cozy peace, after all. Thoughts about how to have a nice first official date—that isn’t just them lazing about in their apartment or doing things that they’ve already done many times before they got into this relationship—float away from his head.
(Of course, a little bit later, the peace breaks once Chuuya realizes that the game save file—that Dazai played and summarily ignored earlier—actually belongs to him.)
-
Dating Dazai doesn’t seem all that different compared to being enemies with Dazai and being ordinary roommates with him. That probably says so much about how strange their relationship has been since the beginning. Really, the only thing that has really changed is that most of their arguments now include kissing and rolling around in bed. And that they spend a bit more time inside their apartment.
The things they do are still the same. They’ve had plenty of movie nights before—having bets on who can guess the plotlines better, him screaming at Dazai for sending him spoilers through nefarious means. They’ve had candlelit dinners before—but that’s mostly because Dazai is a shithead who plays with the circuit breaker, so they’re forced to use candles lest they have a food fight in utter darkness while waiting for the electrician. They’ve gone to karaokes, bars, pubs, and other places together—even if those trips have always led to them competing over something, resulting in minor disasters.
He doesn’t get a lot of time available to research on what would be a passable first date. It’s not that he isn’t counting those stay-in dinner and movie dates that they keep on having. It’s just that… it feels a bit strange, to not do something a bit different? Since their relationship has changed…?
He can’t possibly ask around. He knows Dazai keeps tabs on him, because he’s a dumbass when it comes to his possessiveness, so he’d definitely hear about it if Chuuya asks anyone. He could research online, sure, but Dazai usually swings by his classroom to pick him up after each class, so his only opportunity is to do it while in class. He isn’t an irresponsible sod, so he also doesn’t want to get distracted during lessons, so…
As soon as class is dismissed, he sighs. And sighs some more when his seatmate pats her knees over her dress before standing up. She’s dressed more stylishly than usual, her butterfly pin shimmering under the lights.
Yosano asks, “Want us to buy you anything?”
He waves a hand and leaves his seat. Ane-san is taking her out on a date tonight and they’d most likely send up some interesting desserts his way tomorrow morning. It only reminds him of the fact that he still—
“—can’t think of a nice first date idea that will surely impress me, huh?” Dazai’s voice suddenly pops out of nowhere—directly from his throne in hell, probably—as one chin hooks over his left shoulder, spindly fingers hooking on his belt loops.
They’re pressed flush together. Chuuya instinctively slams his elbows backwards to dislodge the giant fish wiggling against him. “What the hell!”
“I missed you, chibi,” is shamelessly pressed against the side of his neck, kisses curling upwards until they tickle the shell of his ear. “I came here as fast as I could.”
It’s bullshit, obviously. It’s not like it’s such a hardship to walk between their faculty buildings. And more importantly, “Shut the fuck up, you definitely skipped the last part of your lesson to make it here on time.”
“Such an unromantic chibikko,” puffs out against his cheek, before Dazai tilts their bodies together so that they can exchange a kiss.
Thankfully for his embarrassment at doing something like this in public, there isn’t anyone else who’s using this lecture hall anytime soon. It’s the last class of the day for most of them, so the hall is cleared out rather quickly.
…Well, he usually knows that Dazai’s obviously talking shit 99% of the time, with the leftover 1% of non-bullshit even rarer than a blue moon. But it makes his stomach churn the slightest bit, at being called ‘unromantic’. It’s not that he wants to be considered as romantic, especially towards such a shameless fish, but…
“How about this?” A suggestion that comes up after their lips part. A boyish grin on the other’s face. They shift to naturally walking side-by-side, fingers twining together. “Let’s have a bet on who can think of a more romantic date?”
Their apartment building is just a few minutes’ walk away, catered especially to university students like them. Their walk home has them passing by several students, but seeing as they’re a rather infamous couple, nobody really dares to approach them. Even if this means that there isn’t anyone in the vicinity to hear him, Chuuya’s voice still comes out a bit soft as he reins in his natural instinct to accept the other’s challenge. “…Let’s not make it a bet.”
A lot of people claim that Dazai could be so unreadable, but his surprise is a tangible thing right now. They stop in the middle of the street, thankfully empty save for the two of them. “You’re actually turning down a bet between us?”
Throwing down figurative (and one particular time: actual) gauntlets at each other is practically woven into the DNA of their relationship. From their first meeting: a bet that Dazai has copiously cheated on, with the loser being branded as the victor’s ‘dog’. To how they got together: Dazai rigging the bet so he can ask Chuuya to ‘stay still no matter what’ as his prize, as he embraced him and gave him a confession that’s 99% insults and 1% a stammered out, “Since you’re so small, you need to date someone tall like me to compensate.”
So, the other’s surprise is understandable.
He forces himself to meet Dazai’s questioning stare instead of huffing and punching him. “…It’s our first date, so…” Urgh, running away is so uncool, but he kind of wants to bury himself in the ground. “…It shouldn’t be done on a bet, damn it.”
“—Oh, Chuuya.”
Just that one line, and he’s shoved against the nearest surface, a red-cheeked mackerel kissing him breathless in response.
-
Of course, he should have known that Dazai is only too happy to have an in-depth discussion as to how their first date should go. Their discussion starts out in-between grocery aisles, as they swing by to stock up the fridge. It’s still going on now, with both of them wearing matching aprons, Chuuya strong-arming the mackerel to make himself useful and help cook rice.
“How about the aquarium?”
Such a suggestion when Chuuya’s preparing a seafood dinner is probably meant to incense him, but he does consider it. There’s a newly opened one near Minato Mirai. It should be quite cool, and the dark should help cover up his embarrassment once Dazai starts showing off his clinginess. It has the added bonus of being surrounded by glass everywhere, so he’d have more incentive to rein in his violent urges and not punch the mackerel if he gets too frisky.
“You want to see your fellow fish on our first date?” He bumps Dazai lightly with his hip to make him move out of the way. He tiptoes to grab some seasonings—they’ve gotten lost again and have been relocated against his will to the upper shelves.
“There’s also your fellow sea slugs there.” A beat. Dazai chuckles when he flails and fails to grab what he’s been trying to reach. Two hands on his waist, lifting him up with a lot of difficulty, because he’s a weakass beanpole and definitely not because he’s heavy, okay? Said beanpole then adds, an obvious leer even though he’s not facing him directly, “Plus, think of all the dark spaces where we could sneak off to…”
He bops the top of the fish’s head using the pepper shaker that he grabs. “Is the bottom of the trash can dark enough for you then? Because I’m throwing you there.”
“You’re so stingy!”
Another bop as he slides down and resumes cooking their dinner, face feeling like it’s the one being simmered on the stove. “We already do t-that a lot, we don’t need to do it on our first date.” Just in case the other senses a weak point there, he hastily adds a, “And it’s still in public even if it’s dark!”
“Fufufu, what are you saying, chibikko? I was going to bring you to a dark place and quiz you if you know the names of the different fishes, okay?” More laughter. “Were you thinking of something naughty?”
They squabble a bit more, kissing in-between. The food only ends up slightly overcooked, which is a testament to his self-control kicking in even when Dazai attempts to seat him on the counter and start sneaking his hands somewhere incredibly distracting.
In-between fending off the other’s attempts at stealing from his plate—absolute nonsense, given that they have the same food—they continue listing out a couple of other ideas.
“A fancy hotel restaurant… one that has a nice rooftop view?”
“I’d really rather eat you instead.”
“…Ah, you don’t have anything that could pass as a nice format outfit, huh.”
“How about camping in the wilderness? Have you be more attuned to your fellow beasts?”
“And what, leave me to take care of everything?”
“And then we can try to do it in the woods…”
In a similar fashion the following items have been vetoed: attending a wine auction; going to a high-brow art museum; jamming at a rock concert; kayaking and then drowning the mackerel; attending a calligraphy class without them trying to write each other’s names on their faces; climbing up Mount Fuji while he brings Dazai in a princess-carry; going to a batting range and hitting baseballs towards the fish.
Watching a movie had the best chance of working for both of them, but it’s still vetoed. The actual watching isn’t the problem, but they can’t agree on whether there’d be actual watching happening or if it’s just one off Dazai’s not-so-secret infernal checklist of places to get frisky on.
Dinner is over and so is their twenty rounds of rock-paper-scissor-tower-dragon to decide on who will handle washing the dishes. They continue their discussion, still unable to decide on a first date that is memorable in a way that wouldn’t involve yet another false-alarm murder report. Or worse, yet another public indecency charge. He’s not interested in doing something so memorable that he wants to scrub the memory out of his head.
“How is this so hard?” Chuuya eventually asks, exasperated and also fond even though he isn’t very fond of the way Dazai is crowding him in bed. He just showered and he’s not looking forward to feeling sticky so soon, damn it. “Plenty of people go on dates all the time, but we can’t even pick one?!”
“It’s really very hard—”
“—shut it and focus, oi.”
A wounded pout, before, “—well, isn’t this just because you have silly ideas for our first date, little fairy?”
“Someone who suggested running to the arcade and having a contest on who can put more bubblegum under the consoles? Has no rights to tell me I have silly ideas.”
“May I remind you about your idea to design custom hats together?”
He punches the other’s chest. “That’s an excellent idea, you just have shit taste!”
“Luckily for you, we’ve decided not to bet on this.” Dazai punches him back to breathlessness, but it’s all thanks to his mouth. Once they pull away slightly, there’s a self-satisfied grin on his face, “Because you surely would lose to me, chibikko.”
“All bark and no bite,” he tries to say, but he gets bitten in the process. He bites back, but it doesn’t have the ferocity of a beast. Not yet, at least.
“Are you ready to listen to my top-tier idea that certainly wouldn’t lose to anyone?”
“Will you actually shut up if I say ‘no’?”
Without waiting for him to prepare his heart or his brain, Dazai matter-of-factly declares, “All of my date ideas have you in it, so I’ll always win.”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
The self-satisfied grin widens. “Fufufu, that speechless? You’ve been so moved, huh? Aren’t I the best?”
“S-S-S-Shut the fuck up! That doesn’t even make sense!” He shakes his boyfriend by the neck. “Stop using those stupid lines on me, they’re never going to work! I’m not touched at all, damn it!”
“Is that why you’re blushing so cutely now?”
“I am red with rage! Because your idea is just nonsense, bastard!” Of course, he’d be there in their first date idea, who else would be there?! Stupid mackerel!
“Ah, isn’t that just because you make me lose my mind each time?”
He knows that Dazai is just teasing him because of his reactions to such flirtatious lines. He knows it and he still blows up anyway, his stomach churning from getting smothered in butterflies. He wrestles his sanity back and yells, “Stop blaming your stupidity on me!”
“So you say, but haven’t you infected me with your silliness?”
“You’re actually blaming me?!”
They squabble a bit and roll around on the tiny bed. Dazai ends up on top, looming over him and rubbing his cheeks. An indulgent look, one that’s more effective at making him relax than a warm shower and a nice glass of wine.
“See, there’s no point in us trying to decide on what would be our first date.”
For a moment, he sucks in a breath. Dazai dips down and licks the tip of his nose quickly, as though to admonish him for thinking, even if on a split-second, that it means that it’s because their first date is an irrelevant matter.
“You’re really worse than a dog,” he murmurs, feeling like he’s being wrapped in a fluffy blanket too, a gentle warmth from a phantom fireplace.
“Hmm, and your memory is worse than a dog’s,” Dazai teases him. Before he can defend his own memory, a light “Didn’t we already have a lovely first date?” floats into the air between them.
“…Ha?”
Instead of it being an airy declaration, it just serves to confuse him. What the flying fuck is this bastard talking about now? Did he become blackout drunk and forget it? Is this dumbass really counting their first date to be that time that he’d been so drunk he tried to propose to a toilet bowl?! Is the toilet bowl actually Dazai all along?!
He’s about to say something like, “oh, I knew you were full of bullshit all this while”, when Dazai leans down again. This time, it’s to bite him lightly on the mouth. Another admonishment, the mackerel’s radar for sensing his uncharitable thoughts working in full force.
“Did you already forget?” Brown eyes are dancing with mirth. “Didn’t we have a lovely rendezvous—oh, some would consider it a dark waltz—where we got to know each other really well under the flurry of cherry blossoms? Didn’t we have that lovely moment where we understood each other inside-out?”
He stares blankly.
It doesn’t click—not automatically at least.
Of course, he should have known that Dazai’s standards for what counts as a ‘date’ or even what counts as a proper interaction… are very, very skewed.
With an aggrieved sigh, he lifts one hand so he can rub his face, and another so he can pinch the mackerel’s nose. “You shitty Dazai, did you just imply that our first date happened on our first meeting?!”
A pair of highschool freshmen, annoyed at each other at first sight. Despite Dazai’s lankiness, both of them came from two opposing juvenile, delinquent gangs. Kicking, punching and stabbing each other at first contact.
A shrug. “Wasn’t it such a fun time? And we understood each other so well, didn’t we?”
“I understood that you were a piece of shit, that’s what happened.”
Both of those gangs are disbanded now, primarily because the two groups have joined forces to expel them from their ranks. In their words, they can’t take more of their violent flirting anymore. If it means having to live a good, studious life, then so be it.
“And I understood that you were a tiny chibikko who would never grow at all.”
“You—!!!”
“Isn’t it fine like this?” Dazai shifts so that he’s acting like a curtain separating the two of them from the rest of the world. His eyes are very bright. “We’ve been on one very long date since then.” Brighter and brighter. “One that would last for the rest of our lives.”
Chuuya’s breath catches, but there’s Dazai waiting to catch him anyway.
-
omake
“Oh, that already worked? And I still have a reserve of lines, such as ‘each time I spend with you is worthy of being the most romantic date’—”
“How about a nice date at the morgue then, after I kill you so dead for being so annoying?”
“Ah, you’re blushing again—”
And so, their ‘first date’ continues like this.