Work Text:
“Would you stop that?” Kunikida snapped. He turned his gaze upwards, bunching his brows in the heaviest frown he could muster at that hour. The pipes behind him dug into his head at the action, but Kunikida ignored them.
Dazai shot him a side glance and continued pacing restlessly, up and down the length of the roof. He did stop drumming his fingers against the metal railing at that specific angle which made the entire railing throb, though, so Kunikida supposed he should be thankful.
Five hours. That’s how long they were stuck on this rooftop for, in a stakeout. Kunikida had done those before, obviously. That did nothing for how much he hated them. Hated them more when they were at night, on top of rooftops, and with Dazai, of all people.
Granted, all of this was Dazai’s plan, and Kunikida really shouldn’t complain since it was the right thing to do and all. This case plagued him for the better part of a month. His stomach churned at every new report at his desk, every new case file, every new victim, another child lost, another innocent life, another failure failure failure --
His patience had soon reached its tether. He went to Ranpo and the President with the case. Ranpo mulled over it for a week. Then, he cornered Dazai early one morning and thunked the case file on his desk.
Dazai took it with a raised eyebrow, then hummed absently for half the morning as he read the entire file, start to finish. Then he hummed on the couch for the rest of the day, eyes closed and headphones on. When the sun began its descent, Dazai stood. Taking his headphones off, he started singing and traipsed out the door.
He returned to the office the next day in the same clothes, hair windblown and eyes a little more shadowed than normal.
When Tanizaki asked Kunikida to help him on a case, Dazai spun his chair around, a wide grin on his too-thin face. “Take someone else,” he said dismissively. “Kunikida-kun is on a mission with me tonight, so I can’t have him take any other cases.”
Kunikida spluttered, not only because of the news suddenly sprung upon him, but also the sheer condescension dripping from Dazai’s voice. Of course, his spluttering amounted to nothing, and the youth just turned a serene smile his way.
And so, here they were. On a rooftop. In the freezing wind. Watching the trap Dazai and his conniving mind had set overnight.
In truth, Kunikida still found himself startled at the man’s sheer genius. It had been several months since Dazai joined the Agency. He had seen that mind at work, spinning up strategies and laying out traps too complex for him to comprehend. Kunikida - and most of the Agency - were beginning to suspect his genius equaled Ranpo’s. Given very few things were capable of equaling Ranpo, this was no mean feat. They both share the sweet tooth, too, he thought ruefully.
Dazai sighed, leaning against the railing. It let out a shuddering groan, the sound pulling Kunikida from his thoughts. Dazai rested one hand limply across its top, the other propped up his sharp chin on one elbow.
The railing moaned pitifully. Kunikida had given up telling him not to lean long ago. Five hours in, and even Dazai started running out of jokes and irritating behaviour. Kunikida ran out of energy much sooner.
His eyelids drooped, his head lolled with exhaustion. Groaning, Kunikida rose to his feet, stretching and trying to shake the sleepiness off. Not for the first time, he shot an envious look at Dazai, who appeared bored and not tired at all. Even though he had most definitely not been sleeping last night.
“You don’t seem to mind the time,” Kunikida said, standing by the railing. Not leaning against it, obviously - and at a safer distance from it, too.
Dazai hummed. He straightened and resumed his pacing. Kunikida fought back a frown as the sharp clicking of boots against concrete resumed.
He turned his gaze downwards. They watched a warehouse, inconspicuous from the outside. From the inside though… Kunikida did not even know what was inside. Dazai said there was bait. He did not want to think about what the bait was, given the child kidnapping ring they pursued. It was probably necessary, but that didn’t make the truth any pleasanter. His stomach churned.
The railing before him shifted as Dazai leaned against it again. “I’m used to them. Sleepless nights, I mean.”
(Kunikida would never know that Dazai meant rooftop stakeouts instead. He would also never know how many of them he spent cuddling a sniper rifle’s stock.
The Demon Prodigy did not earn his name by torture and a brilliant mind alone.)
Dazai reached one hand for his coat pocket and produced a packet of cigarettes. His long fingers slid one out with practiced ease. He set it lightly between his lips as he reached into his pocket again. This time he drew forth a slim, dark lighter. The flame bathed his pale face in glowing orange, before plunging it into darkness as he inhaled. The cigarette’s tip glowed, a single burning ember in the dark.
“I didn’t know you smoked,” Kunikida muttered, turning his gaze away from the thin figure hunched over the railing.
Dazai plucked the cigarette from his lips with long, bony fingers. Stretching out that ridiculously thin arm of his, he offered it to Kunikida. “Want one~?”
Kunikida glowered. “Willingly filling my lungs with toxic waste and cancer-causing smoke is not written in my Ideals.” Nor was this stakeout.
Dazai drew his hand back, taking a drag. He let the smoke out slowly, thoughtfully. He glanced at Kunikida, eyes lingering for a moment. He had neglected to trim his hair lately, and his bangs fell into brown eyes. His thin face looked so innocent, so childlike. Then he huffed, letting the rest of the smoke out in a wispy cloud. “They’re late.”
Dazai slouched dramatically against the railing, cigarette dangling from thin fingers. Lips pulled downwards into a pout, a furrow between his brows - Dazai painted the perfect picture of teenage boredom.
Of course, there was the trouble that Dazai was not a teenager. Also, he really should not be getting bored on a stakeout, of all things!
Kunikida grunted in response to Dazai’s whining. He regretted giving him attention immediately after as Dazai somehow, impossibly, slouched lower on the railing and opened his mouth.
“Why are you so used to late nights anyway?” Kunikida got the words out before Dazai could continue his whining. On how a gang of child kidnappers failed to arrive on time.
At least, the words gave Dazai pause. He raised the cigarette to his lips, inhaling slowly. Then he tilted his head towards Kunikida. An impish smirk twisted his thin lips. It did not reach his eyes. “No reason, in particular. I just have trouble sleeping most nights.”
Kunikida shot him a glare. Everyone in the Agency knew that by now. Dazai often haunted the office at horrid hours. He would work through the paperwork he did not do earlier on a good day. On bad days, he simply sat on the roof, long legs dangling off the edge. The Agency knew little about Dazai, but his sleeping troubles were painfully obvious, if only in the dark shadows beneath his eyes that he couldn’t be bothered to conceal sometimes.
Silence stretched between them. Dazai resumed his pacing at some point, but Kunikida was trying too hard to remain alert to pay him much mind. He was vaguely aware of Dazai snuffing out his first cigarette, then lighting another and smoking that away too.
“Aaaaarrgghhh, it’s so boring! Why won’t they just come already!” Dazai said, drooping himself over the railing once again. His pale hand reached for yet another cigarette.
Kunikida could not just watch anymore. Reaching out, he slapped Dazai’s thin wrist away from his pocket, fixing him with his worst glare. “No more,” he bit out. “You’ve burnt through enough already. Stop killing yourself.”
“But I hardly ever smoke! Surely one more won’t harm~,” Dazai said, and the man even dared to pout at him.
Kunikida opened his mouth to shoot that argument down, but a hiss from Dazai silenced him. His partner straightened, gaze fixed onto the warehouse beneath.
“They’re here,” Dazai breathed.
--
“Those two are mine,” Dazai said, singling out two men from the group. They crouched on the ground now, concealed in a shadowy alley.
“How’d you get them over?”
Dazai shrugged. “Enough incentive and the strongest will sway.”
“What if someone offers them something more?”
“They won’t go against me,” Dazai purred. His lips twisted into a dagger-sharp smile. Kunikida could not tear his gaze away - away from Dazai’s hollow eyes that looked right through him; away from that smile, twisting his lips into some jagged mockery of an expression.
“Let’s move.” Dazai rose to his feet in one fluid motion. The spell broke. Kunikida regained his feet and followed.
They swept into the warehouse unflinchingly. Or rather, Dazai swaggered in like he owned the place, and Kunikida followed. Dazai’s traps wove together with too much intricacy for him to do anything but stumble behind. He was all too aware of his position as extra firepower in this mission.
The warehouse was nearly deserted. Across from them stood their targets. A group of children huddled in the very center of the vast space. The oldest could not yet be counted as a teenager, while the youngest seemed to number a scarce few years. Kunikida’s insides lurched violently as frightened gazes turned towards them. There’s the bait.
Dazai, on the contrary, strode past without even sparing them a glance. “You’re late, you know~! It’s rude to keep people waiting,” he singsonged.
Kunikida stiffened. In the depths of his tired brain, it occurred to him that he had no idea what to do. His insufferable partner conveniently neglected to mention his role in this strange game.
He chose to linger around the huddle of kids, one hand poised to draw his notebook.
Dazai continued towards the opposing group. Seizing the hand of the closest person, he shook it warmly. “Ah, ah- I haven’t introduced you to my partner, have I? Here, come meet him, his name is—”
“What are you doing here, you bastard!” the man cut Dazai off, wrenching his hand free. “You— you filthy bastard!”
(Kunikida did not have the time to ask the question burning in his mind: you know each other?
He did not remember the question when, afterwards, he did have the time to ask.)
The smile fell from Dazai’s lips. His eyes glittered. A slender leg shot out in a rapid kick. A dry crunch, and the man fell to his knees with an anguished cry. Dazai spun on his heel, raising a bony arm to cut off another man who lunged at him. As he spun, he let his raised knee strike him in the gut, grabbing him by the nape as he doubled over.
With one hand thus occupied in slamming the man’s head to the ground, Dazai raised the other and snapped his fingers. Snapped them elegantly, despite the circumstances. The commanding gesture must have been a signal, for the two men whom Dazai pointed out earlier turned upon their comrades with raised fists.
Chaos erupted immediately afterwards.
Kunikida hovered where he stood, unsure if he should join the fray or protect the children. Dazai and his two men seemed to hold their own without him, much to his surprise.
Dazai barely fought with his hands. Skinny and rather weak, he much preferred to let the others fight. Still, what he lacked in brute strength, he easily made up with incredible agility. Kunikida watched him nimbly dancing around his opponents, skilfully using their own power against them. Dodging, ducking, diving. Leaping up the walls, spinning mid-air, and landing with flair.
Kunikida had a sinking suspicion that Dazai, bored out of his mind, fought with a lot more panache than efficiency.
Kunikida’s attention tore away from the fight when he noticed a small group making a run for the children. They probably mean to take them and bolt. He planted himself firmly in their way. Well, not on my watch, he thought grimly. Cracking his knuckles, he straightened his glasses, and waited.
The first of the men raised a fist to punch him. How original, Kunikida snorted. He deflected the punch with ease, raising an elbow simultaneously to drive into the man's neck. He turned smoothly out of the way of a kick aimed his way, sending the first man into the ground and kicking out behind him. His gaze landed by the doorway as he straightened, and Kunikida froze.
One of the kidnappers managed to seize two of the smallest kids and bolt for the exit. He’s too far, Kunikida thought, sizing up the distance between them and how long it would take for him to cross. I can’t make it in time.
“Dazai!!!” he yelled desperately.
Bang!
Even as he cried out, a sharp report shook the air within the warehouse. Kunikida flinched. The man teetered, then slumped over and fell. The children fell beside him. Kunikida turned, wide-eyed.
Dazai stood still, arm raised and steady. Smoke curled away from the pistol in his hand. His eyes were blank and emotionless.
“You idiot!” Kunikida said, running towards the fallen man. “The children!”
“I didn’t hit them.”
And sure enough, they were unhurt. The bullet tore cleanly through the man’s chest, passing safely between the two children. Kunikida sighed, shoulders slumping in relief. He took in the fight as he turned.
Dazai still held the pistol. Turning smartly on a heel, he whipped the last of his attackers across the jaw. The man slumped bonelessly, the crack of metal against bone resounding across the closed space.
Only two men remained, headed for Kunikida. Delivering a sharp kick to the ribs and following it with a heel to the neck, he brought the first one down. The second took a single punch to the temple, and he joined his incapacitated comrades. Only the two who now fought for them remained standing on their feet.
Kunikida shook his hands out before kneeling at the shot man’s side. He pressed two fingers into his neck, feeling for a pulse. He found nothing. Kunikida expected that. The bullet would have gone right through his heart.
Some aim, that bastard, thought Kunikida. The Agency knew that Dazai carried a pistol. No one ever discussed it. It was legal but as dubiously as the Agency’s legality. Never before had Dazai used it, and Kunikida never suspected he had such a practiced aim.
“He’s dead,” Kunikida said, rising to his feet. Dazai hummed in acknowledgement but did not turn. He watched the two men on their side, who approached apprehensively.
Dazai strode towards them, a bright smile on his face. Kunikida watched warily - Dazai with that smile never meant anything good.
“Thank you for your assistance, gentlemen~! This mission was made so much easier for your troubles.”
Ching.
The distinct sound of handcuffs snapping shut. Dazai swung a long leg out, sweeping both men off their feet. He twisted thin fingers around the handcuffs which cuffed one hand from each of them.
“Oi—”
“But you promised—”
Dazai cut short their indignant sounds by pressing both their faces into the concrete - one with a boot, the other with his hand. He still held the handcuff high, pulling their arms into a decidedly painful position.
“Hush now,” he hissed, voice sickeningly soft and dripping with venom. “So you think turning against your gang for one night will absolve all your crimes? Restore the innocent lives you spent a lifetime taking? Return children to their bereaved parents, hmm?”
Dazai dropped the handcuffs and straightened. “On the contrary, I think you two must get special punishments for being spineless cowards.” He grinned, the expression more demonic than human. “After all, the worst type of human is the traitor .”
---
Kunikida slumped against the rough wall, sinking awkwardly to the ground. Exhaustion tugged at him relentlessly. Coupled with relief because at last this case is over, Kunikida wanted nothing more than to curl up in his comfortable futon and sleep for an eternity.
A bony knee nudged his shoulder. “Don’t fall asleep here, Kunikida-kun~ You’re far too heavy for me to lug back all the way~”
“Shut up,” Kunikida muttered half-heartedly.
Dazai snorted from somewhere above him. To add insult to injury, the insufferable man still didn’t seem tired. He leaned against the wall entirely at ease, smoking yet another cigarette. Kunikida didn’t have the energy to tell him off for smoking so much.
Police and Special Division forces combed through the warehouse in the distance. The case had been enormous, and the amount of evidence Dazai found - overnight, apparently - was dazzling. The kidnapping ring stretched to depths greater than anyone foresaw. Two hours after the fight, the place still crawled with people. Dazai, at the forefront, directed forces to the rest of the members and hideouts.
Kunikida’s head pounded at the thought of the accumulated paperwork, and he groaned.
“We’re almost done here,” Dazai said, and Kunikida heard him exhale smoke. “We’re only waiting on confirmation from the last few pick-up missions. The rest can be tomorrow's problem - or, I suppose, later today’s.”
Kunikida sighed, tipping his head upwards. Dazai did not look at him as he spoke, his gaze fixed firmly on the warehouse. He lifted the cigarette to his lips, smoke curling away in moonlit silver.
“Why’ve I never seen you smoking before?” Kunikida did not mean to voice the question - did not mean to pry, but his tired mind caught up too late. His eyes widened, and he drew breath to take the words back, but Dazai beat him to it.
“Someone dared me to stay clean for a year.” Dazai shot him a brilliant grin. “That year expired today.” He pushed away from the wall, tapping the ash off as he strode jauntily away.
Kunikida remained where he sat, staring befuddled after Dazai.
---
“Kuuniikidaaaa-kuuun~~”
Kunikida scowled. He turned towards the source of the irritating drawl. Sleep-deprived at four in the morning, he could not deal with his partner’s endless store of energy any longer.
Said infuriating partner strolled towards him, throwing away yet another infernal cigarette, beaming happily. “We’re all done here!”
“Finally,” Kunikida grunted, rising to his feet. He fished in his pockets for the car keys as he trudged behind Dazai to the alley where they hid his car.
He huffed a sigh when they finally reached it. This was not only a sigh of bone-deep exhaustion but of relief as well. Leaving the car in shady alleys always ran the risk of it being stolen. They avoided it whenever possible, but sometimes it couldn’t be helped.
Kunikida yelped as a thin hand deftly twisted the keys out of his grasp. “Give me those!” he snarled, lunging. His partner nimbly danced out of the way.
“Nope! I’m driving.”
“Like hell you are! We’ll end up crashing and stuck on the road forever!”
“So rude~! I can drive, you know.”
“For the last time, Dazai, you are not driving! Give me those!”
Dazai splayed a hand on the car’s roof. Pushing against it, he vaulted lightly over the car, landing on the other side and grinning at Kunikida. Kunikida followed, taking the more traditional route around the car, lunging for Dazai once he made it to the other side.
Clank.
The sound of the car unlocking behind him. A hand shoved him sharply in the chest, another reached for the door behind him. Kunikida landed unceremoniously on the passenger seat. Dazai stood above him, a smug smirk twisting his lips, twirling the car keys on one long finger.
“You— you— you scoundrel! ”
“Give it up, Kunikida-kun.” Dazai kicked his foot lightly. “You’re struggling to keep your eyes open, and you want to drive?” Dazai scoffed and pushed Kunikida’s feet in. “I’ll get us back to the office. Come on, belt up.”
“You never belt yourself,” Kunikida grumbled, petulantly - but he still did the seatbelt up as Dazai shut the door.
He glanced over as Dazai slid into the driver’s seat. He pushed the seat back immediately. Kunikida had two inches on Dazai, but he always drove with a closer seat. Besides, Dazai had impossibly long legs, and so they demanded more room. Kunikida warily watched him adjust everything.
Dazai caught him staring. “I’ll fix it all up when we get back, don’t worry.” He waved a hand airily. “I remember how it always is.”
Kunikida very much doubted he would do that. He didn’t have the energy to argue, so he simply grunted.
Dazai checked the locks and shifted the gears. The car drove off with surprising smoothness, given Dazai drove it. Apparently, the man knew how to drive in a perfectly controlled and safe manner. This thought infuriated Kunikida more, because his recklessness must therefore be deliberate and not simply a result of not knowing. He was too tired to comment on this fact and stowed it away for later.
All things considered, the drive passed uneventfully. Dazai only went past the legal speed when they hit the highway, and it wasn’t dangerous - not yet, anyway.
“Go to sleep, Kunikida-kun.”
Kunikida snorted. “Why would I sleep in a car?”
“Because we’ve still got an hour to reach the office.”
Kunikida scowled. He distinctly remembered taking much longer to drive here than an hour. Then, he glanced at the speed dial. This was most definitely above legal limits, but Dazai drove in the fast lane, even if he did so one-handed. The road around them was mostly empty, and Dazai seemed alert enough. Kunikida decided not to comment for once.
Then Dazai began singing something soft and melodious, and it was the final straw to tip Kunikida’s exhausted head against the door frame and pull his mind into the deep embrace of sleep.
--
Kunikida awoke at a time that he most definitely should not be asleep at. Sunlight poured in through the open windows, curtains fluttering airily at their sides. He wondered sluggishly why he hadn’t risen much earlier, before realising that he couldn’t remember ever going to sleep. His last remembrance was drifting to sleep in the car, of all places.
Then his mind caught up to him and the late hour reasserted itself. He scrambled to his feet in a frenzy, changed into fresh clothes, and bolted out of the door before ten minutes passed. Harried and windblown, he charged into the office. A vague dread filled his mind at the thought of the paperwork - a ridiculous amount of it that his insufferable partner would most definitely not complete.
Kunikida felt so flustered that he even let the door slam shut behind him. He barely got a few hurried greetings out to his colleagues before sinking into his chair, hand reaching for the stack of papers. In doing so, he nearly knocked down his teacup. He reached absently with the other hand to straighten it, then he paused.
I didn’t make tea.
He forced his spinning mind to focus. The cup of tea stood at the place he always told Dazai to stop keeping it on. It was neither too hot nor too cold - the perfect temperature to drink. Beside it stood a stack of paperwork, with every other page horizontal instead of vertical.
All of it was already filled in with elegant, flowing handwriting.
Ah.
---
(Later, much later, Kunikida went to his car. The seat remained as far back as possible, the recline tilted much too far. All the mirrors twisted in ridiculous angles. A single paper hung from the rearview mirror.
I do remember how it all was, Kunikida-kun~, it read, in elegant, flowing script.)