Work Text:
Chuuya stirs the coffee sitting on the cute pink table.
Black coffee, two tablespoons of sugar, no cream. Then, he proceeds to glare at the sinful cup in front of him. Whipped cream overflowing from the mug, with some rainbow sprinkles on top to decorate the baffling creation Dazai dares to order and call coffee.
Almost as if the coffee could hear him, the whipped cream on top wiggles in protest when Dazai lifts the cup to take a sip.
That thing is what Dazai Osamu, Chuuya’s best friend, and tutor, order every time— and dares to call coffee. They’re sitting in the farthest corner of the coffee shop, in a booth perfectly fitting two people. Chuuya gets distracted easily, so they always pick this table to study. A window with adorable kitties sits on his right, and he can hear the idiot he loves asking for more sugar from across the table.
Gross, as if Dazai’s coffee needed more of that white powder.
Chuuya’s blue and weary eyes focus on the kitties’ paws; fuzzy white with very rosy squishy pads. There is another reason why they study here and not in the library.
Chuuya’s homesickness lately is getting worse. He misses his cat the most. The Tabby Cat Cafe is the closest he can afford until God knows when he will have the money to travel and pay a visit to his parents. Chuuya could easily ask his dad to send him money to buy the plane tickets.
But it’s a matter of showing them that he’s doing just fine.
Breaking news — he isn’t doing good, eating onigiris and instant noodle ramen cups for days is definitely a sign he’s broke. But cutting Arthur’s overprotective hovering behavior once and for all is more important than his body getting enough nutrients to sustain itself.
Chuuya is twenty-two, not five. And if he needs to eat instant ramen and stab his heart multiple times when he replays the video of his cat purring from afar, then he will suck it up.
The Tabby Cat Cafe owner, Fukuzawa- san, always gives them the best table available and free refills without exceptions. Well, that’s up for discussion. There is one rule: no profanities and no Chuuya punching Dazai in the face. Pretty simple and easy to follow.
Chuuya clicks his tongue in annoyance. Hitting Dazai square in his handsome face isn’t the problem. Being in love with him, however, is.
There you go, welcome to Chuuya’s current issue. Being in love with your best friend who, mind you, is a well-known playboy in their faculty.
To make matters worse, Chuuya can’t afford the flat he’s renting anymore, and there’s an offer on the table from the dipshit across from him that makes sense, but that Chuuya doesn’t know he would survive. How is he supposed to survive moving with Dazai for a few months until he finds a more affordable flat that also accepts pets? Besides, he is exhausted from feeling miserable and lonely.
Chuuya should accept Dazai's offer and move in with him, that would help him immensely, but the idea of moving in with your long-time crush and best friend is dangerous.
Dangerous as in, he will fall more in love with the mackerel, and his heart will be crushed into tiny pieces.
He doesn’t want to witness Dazai's long list of one-night stands and frivolous relationships. He does enough pretending and avoiding when Dazai gets a new girlfriend or boyfriend.
So Chuuya knows the possibility is there, but the risk of losing his best friend for a few pleasurable nights isn’t worth it.
His body betrays him the moment he glances over Dazai’s handsome face and gets lost in those caramel eyes, those dimples around the corner of his mouth when he smiles, the way he sighs while drinking his coffee.
Chuuya is fucked, he knows. There is no way Dazai won’t notice Chuuya is in love with him. Sharing the same apartment while Dazai fucks whoever winked at him this week will for sure break him; it feels like he’s trapped between confessing his feelings and be done with it, or suffer in silence.
At the moment, Dazai doesn’t know Chuuya spends his days in a pitfall of thoughts whenever Dazai starts a new relationship. Avoiding Dazai like the plague, praying in his mind that the relationship doesn’t work— Chuuya recognizes that’s a terrible thing to do. Still, jealousy always finds a way when Dazai picks another partner instead of him.
And then karma hits Chuuya square in the face.
Chuuya was living in a one-bedroom apartment, nothing fancy, but it was his home. It was the only escape he had to cry about his love’s misfortunes, his small safe haven. He couldn’t bring Baki because finding an apartment that allows pets while staying in a reasonable price line is impossible in Yokohama.
But then, out of nowhere, his landlord raised the rent. And there is nothing he can do about it: it either sharing an apartment with Dazai and having him as a roommate or going back to the small, lacking privacy dorm room and sharing it with a serial killer.
Unfortunately, his brain also decides just in time to jump with a pump of anxiety to help with his current crisis.
Caffeine isn’t exactly helping with the rush of anxiety his brain then chooses to produce. At the same time, as his relentless insomniac episodes keep him up all night, he needs the black and bitter coffee to alert his senses. Accepting his upcoming doom and failing this class while drinking coffee is better — He is trying his best, okay?
Chuuya bites his lower lip. His brain betrays him once again. His heart skips a beat when his eyes land on Dazai’s fingers playing with the whipped cream, following that finger until that tongue swipes the entire white puffy cloud cream into his mouth.
Chuuya’s said it before, but he’s fucked.
Maybe sharing a dorm room with some stranger doesn’t sound so bad. But then Chuuya remembers that he would have to share a bathroom with said stranger.
He lets out a big heavy sigh.
He’s doomed. Dazai will soon notice he has feelings for him.
“Fuck,” Chuuya mutters softly, bringing his hand to rest all the weight of his head on the kneel of his open palm, lips curling inward as he listens to Dazai’s kittenish laugh.
“Thank you, my mochaccino is delicious!” Dazai nods at the raven-haired barista while happily humming and sipping his mochaccino.
Chuuya swears he can feel the barista beaming while giving Dazai even more sugar in single packages.
“Thank you for coming, Dazai-san.” The barista wipes his hands on his black apron. There’s a single tiny white paw on the corner, and Chuuya finds that fascinating. As one could guess already, the theme of the coffee shop was a mix of cats and tigers.
Cute ones, though. It was like a goth pastel lolita exploded in the place. But it was quiet, and the coffee and pastries were great and, most importantly, cheap —and that part was significant for two broken-ass college students or at least one of them.
“Ah, Akutagawa! Please drop the honorific. You are my senior. It’s a little bit embarrassing,” Dazai says, faking a sheepish smile while touching the back of his neck with one bandaged hand. “Please, just call me, Dazai.”
“Better if you call him Shitty Dazai.” Chuuya purses his lips, taking one sip of his coffee. It tastes fresh, with sophisticated notes of bitterness, and not diabetes-inducing, unlike the monstrosity laying in front of him.
“Chibi, so mean!” Dazai says while raising his cup. The insane mountain of whipped cream wiggles on the way to touch Dazai’s lips again.
Akutagawa takes that as his cue to leave; he scrambles away before getting in the middle of their usual banters. He doesn’t have the energy for it, and so far, this interaction has reached his quota of being socially friendly with customers.
“Shut up! Stop wasting my time, and let’s study already.”
“Chuuya, you look tired,” Dazai mutters the word ‘tired,’ he used that to mess with Chuuya’s head, but in reality, he is concerned.
But what really flustered Chuuya is how Dazai took the opportunity to lean over to tuck some of his bangs away behind his ear.
“I didn’t pay you to be my mom, Dazai.” Chuuya barks back, blushing from head to toe.
Dazai’s hand is still on his face, and Chuuya’s brain is literally on fire, burning every rational thought. Why is Dazai so touchy lately? Why do Dazai’s lips seem so tempting even with the slight trace of white cream all over them?
Chuuya swallows his words. He can’t speak or move.
“I don’t want to be your mom, Chuuya. If anything, I'm tired of waiting for you to make the first move.”
Chuuya’s thoughts come to a screeching halt. One second they are racing, and the next, it’s like he can’t process what he heard. And then everything is moving fast, a whirlwind of feelings explodes in his chest. All he can hear, all his brain keeps repeating, is:
I’m tired of waiting for you to make the first move.
I’m tired of waiting for you to make the first move.
I’m tired of waiting for you to make the first move.
“What the fuck?” Chuuya replies, perplexed. He’s dreaming, and this is all a fucking pantomime. So obviously, since Chuuya’s brain is working hard, trying his best to process what just happened, his brilliant response doesn’t surprise him at all.
“Ah! Chibi, you really need to stop overthinking,” Dazai rests his elbows on the table, their mouths are almost pressing. Dazai’s lips twitch in a crooked smile. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”
Chuuya’s hands are shaking. “Fucking bastard, stop playing around.”
“We would make such a cute couple, don’t you think, Chuuya?” Dazai sing-songs, his eyes now tainted with a shade of crimson.
Did Dazai really say that, or is he dreaming right now? Chuuya pinches one of his thighs to verify. It hurts, so definitely not a dream.
All his brain seems to process right now is that Dazai blurts out the word ‘ couple.’
A couple. What is this nonsense? Chuuya is about to pass out, his breath is uneven, and his head is a mess.
A fucking mess, okay.
“Fuck, ar--are you drunk, Osamu?” Chuuya asks stuttering every word.
Obviously, he is not. It doesn’t take a fucking genius to see that.
“Earth to Chuuya.” Dazai’s chuckle tickles Chuuya’s lips. “Obviously no, maybe a bit drunk with your cologne, but that’s it.”
Chuuya’s mouth is slightly open. Chuuya’s breath fanning over Dazai’s mouth. All his brain can process is how Dazai’s skin is perfect for a guy who uses 3 in 1 body washes. He’s stunning, even if Dazai says otherwise. Dazai is perfect in Chuuya’s eyes, the neediness pooling inside of him to undo those bandages, to claim Dazai.
To kiss every single scar and tell Dazai how beautiful he is.
“Osamu, you are beautiful,” Chuuya blunts out in a puffy breath, exhaling every word against Dazai’s mouth. The warm breath against those inviting lips makes Dazai’s world spin; without Chuuya noticing, he starts to climb the table, separating them, the only obstacle preventing him from taking further action.
Right now, in this Cat Cafe, the only person of interest is in front of him, like a bull looking for the red cloth waving, luring him in like a spell. Chuuya leaps over so fast that the table rocks underneath him, but he doesn’t care.
The first gentle peck tasted like whipped cream, sugar coating his trembling lips. Dazai’s lashes flutter softly against his nose when Chuuya finally has the guts to kiss him back.
Chuuya’s heart swells, feeling the trace of a smile while kissing Dazai. At first, they go at a slow pace, not daring to break apart, wishing they were in a more private place. Dazai abides by his desire until Chuuya asks for more, tracing his lips with his tongue.
The open-mouth kiss is messy but, behind every lap of their tongues and the beautiful throaty moans, the myriad of freckles on Chuuya’s rosy cheeks makes Dazai's chest explode with something he never felt before.
When he first met Chuuya, those ocean blue eyes enchanted him the moment he glanced at them. But knowing his track of losing everything he always cherished, Dazai's feelings are complicated.
Nevertheless, he doesn’t want this moment to end. But of course, they are in a public space, and Dazai can clearly hear someone distressed, asking them to stop.
But they don’t care. Dazai’s fingers are now tangled between curly copper strands, bringing Chuuya closer to him.
Next to them, clearing his throat and looking beyond flustered, stood Atsushi. Eventually, he gathered the courage to tap Chuuya’s shoulder, fingers trembling, only to have his hand slapped away.
Atsushi lets out a ‘Uhm’ before shouting. “I DON’T WANT TO LOSE MY JOB, AND PLEASE STOP!”
Dazai snorts. He can feel Chuuya’s smile against his lips.
When he opens his eyes, a myriad of freckles greets him before he can reflect himself in the most beautiful shade of blue.
Chuuya’s eyes flicker a bit, his long eyelashes brushing against Dazai’s, and he never felt so relieved. He gives Dazai’s lips a soft peck. “Let’s go home.”
Dazai nods, placing a 10,000 yen bill on the table. That will be enough to bribe at least Atsushi this time.
“Let’s go home, Chuuya.”
o.O.o
After graduating, Chuuya popped the question. He never allowed Dazai to make the first move, not after that embarrassing scene they made in this same Cat Cafe.
They are still here years after, ordering their morning coffee before going into the hellhole of Mori Corp and give away their best years in their respective field as interns.
And yes, Dazai still orders the same monstrosity he dares to call coffee. Chuuya snorts while listening to Dazai sing-song tone while ordering. But then he catches Dazai showing the ring on his left hand, and his chest roars with pride. It’s a cheap gold band, he bought it at a carnival stand, but Dazai can make the cheapest raunchy item on the planet worth millions.
“Our wedding bands will be better, I promise,” Chuuya manages to say before Dazai leans down and pecks him gently on his lips.
“Chibi, I love these better than any diamond ring in the entire universe!”
“Let me spoil you, as soon as I have the money you will see—”
“So Chuuya wants me as his sugar baby? An honor, I hate to work anyways! I’m not a morning person, so please work hard to make my dreams come true.” Dazai places a hand on his chest, chuckling, handing him with his other hand the scorching black coffee.
“Why are you like this? Always ruining everything.” Chuuya clicks his tongue, accepting the coffee. Meanwhile, Dazai waits for their usual order of biscuits.
“For example, you in bed— that’s my favorite thing to ruin, Chuuya.”
“Shut up! I take it back. I don’t want to marry a pervert like you!”
“Ahhh…! That’s contradictory to what you were saying last night.” Dazai has the audacity to pout, catching the biscuits bag before they land on the floor.
The new cashier really didn’t have the patience to deal with two idiots this early in the morning. So he prepares Dazai's orders to fast, not caring for a bad review from the two lovey-dovey idiots in front of him.
“Please, I don’t want to be a widow before even marrying, asshole. Feed me, let’s see if you will be a good sugar baby in case I need to find another one.”
“So funny! Why do you want me to commit a murder? Do you think jail jumpsuits will look good on me?” Dazai asks, holding the bag of biscuits far away, enjoying how Chuuya is trying his best to grab the bag.
“Osamu, please as if your uncle isn’t using Mori Corp as a shell company! I bet he’s a vampire or a mafioso.” Chuuya slaps Dazai’s elbow, succeeding in taking his breakfast back. “Let’s go before he starts complaining about your late ass and not taking this opportunity of a lifetime to be slaves of capitalism.”
“I love you, my partner in crime.”
“Stop that bullshit. You’re my fiancé, now.”
And that does the trick.
Dazai is blushing furiously, coughing to evade people watching him. It takes three steps to catch up with Chuuya. “I’m proposing next time, and my marriage proposal will embarrass you to the point that —”
Chuuya pulls down Dazai by his collar. The cologne the beanpole is wearing smells like his own, which turns him on more.
Chuuya adds before kissing him, “I will make a mess of you tonight, Osamu.”
Dazai’s lips taste like the same whipped cream that encouraged him to take the first step four years ago, one that tastes better than any expensive wine he could afford.