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It was an entirely innocent question. Atsushi was tasked to keep Dazai-san from running out of the office too early, and the first idea that came to mind was to preoccupy Dazai-san by asking him for a story.
But, like all things most things concerning his mentor, it came full-circle to more talk about Nakahara Chuuya-san from the Port Mafia.
“T-the boss sent you and your partner to take on an entire enemy Gifted organization alone?!”
Dazai-san nods solemnly, gaze calculated and every bit like the Mafia member he claimed he used to be. “Mhm! How terrible of Mori-san, honestly. If it weren’t for my amazing strategic prowess, we would’ve been done for.”
Atsushi perks up, interest peaking. He knows his mentor is something of a legend in the Port Mafia (if the way some members there shrink in on themselves when they hear his name is anything to go by), but hearing that Dazai-san was so trusted(?) that the Boss of the Port Mafia ordered him to take on an entire organization with only a single other member alone seems so blown out of proportion and impossible, that Atsushi’s actually more curious than disbelieving.
(…It’s possible that Dazai-san is blowing things out of proportion, but Atsushi’s choosing to believe in his mentor!)
“Your partner must’ve been super smart to have been able to keep up with you, right?” Atsushi observes aloud. It’s an understandable explanation. There’s no way some low Mafia grunt would be able to assist Dazai-san with… well, anything, but Dazai-san is notoriously uncooperative, and Atsushi can’t exactly think of a person who can stand to be in his presence for more than a few minutes (other than himself, of course).
Dazai-san wrinkles his nose in disgust, and Atsushi blinks in surprise. “That chibi? Absolutely not. His hat probably ate his brain, he’s just a muscle head.”
Atsushi takes a moment to process. Chibi? Hat? Muscle? And then, the pieces slowly click together, and the image of a distinctly familiar angry red-haired mafioso flashes in his mind.
Oh. Oh.
“N-Nakahara-san was your partner?!” He exclaims, eyes wide. Nakahara-san? Atsushi knows for a fact that Nakahara-san loathes his mentor, and if not for that fact (and, well, the fact that the redhead seems to turn redder than a tomato in Dazai-san’s presence… probably from anger?) then Atsushi might’ve believed him, albeit just barely. Dazai-san stares at him as if he’s lost his mind.
“You know that it was with Chibi that I defeated Lovecraft, right?” He muses. Atsushi cringes, because yes, he obviously remembers that; Nakahara-san kicked a human-sized hole into the wall in fury that Dazai-san left him in enemy territory. Plus, Dazai-san wouldn’t stop talking about the event, even when months had passed since the end of it.
“Yeah, I know, but…” Atsushi trails off, wracking his brain. “I didn’t think that Nakahara-san would be so… willing to work with you?”
Dazai-san pouts. “Are you saying that I’m not a pleasure to work around?” He asks with a hint of a whine in his voice. Atsushi waves his hands in panic.
“No! No, I’m super glad to be able to work with you, Dazai-san!”
Dazai-san chuckles, waving him off. “Ah, ah, I know. Well, it’s not like I want to work with the hatrack anyways, so we’re even.”
“…You didn’t?”
“Of course not. He’s so ugly, I have a mild heart attack every single time I see him.”
“…?!”
“Not literally, of course.”
Then, Dazai-san beams, clapping his hands together in delight. “There was a time that I did have one, though! I didn’t know Chuuya was so ugly wearing a dress.”
Atsushi chokes on air, face growing paler by the second. “H-he was what?!”
Dazai-san sighs contentedly, seeming every bit like a young maiden in love (which is very ironic, considering he just called Nakahara-san ugly?). “Chibi really was quite the sight in that dress. Did you know, Atsushi-kun, that’s where we came up with our strategy, ‘Kiss Before Dawn’?”
He balks. Kiss Before Dawn? “…What’s that supposed to mean, Dazai-san?”
Dazai-san chuckles heartily, leaning back in his chair. “You’re curious, right? I can tell you about it if you want to know.”
That surprises Atsushi a little. Dazai-san isn’t very… vocal about his past, so it’s rather interesting that he would offer to speak of it so casually. But, it’s suspicious, which isn’t completely off the charts for someone like Dazai-san (Atsushi knows, he really does), and Dazai-san also seems unusually cheerful about the event. However, because Atsushi could never have the heart to refute his mentor, well—
“U-um, of course, Dazai-san! If you’re comfortable with sharing, of course!”
—Atsushi accepts. Little did he know, though, that he essentially just signed off his will to live in peaceful unawareness for the rest of his life.
“I swear to fucking god, if you trip me on purpose I will skin you alive.”
“Alive?! Why not skin me dead, Chuuya?”
“It’s more fun when I can get you to scream in pain, fucker.”
“Kinky~”
Chuuya digs his heel into Dazai’s foot, and he grimaces, crying out dramatically. “Such a violent chibi! This is why I don’t like working with you.”
“Good riddance. Working with you shortens my life span by thirty years.”
Dazai beams. “Is this your way of saying that you want to commit a double suicide with me, Chuuya?”
Chuuya, predictably, turns red and scowls. “N-no! Go to hell yourself, weirdo!”
Chuuya looks less than threatening (which isn’t much of a challenge, considering his rather unintimidating size) with his flowy red dress (that regrettably brings out the color of his eyes, Dazai thinks) and heels that he nearly trips on every so often (and adds a few inches to his height, but he’s still short, anyways). He covers it with his gravity manipulation, the red sheen faintly hovering over his body easily giving that away, but Dazai decided that it would be far more funny if he nullified his ability and let him trip in a fit of fury. Which leads to their current predicament.
To be fair, they’re not supposed to be together. They arrived at the scene together, sure, but Chuuya was (still is) supposed to be up and about seducing (Dazai grimaces, because how the hell can a chibi like him be seducing?!) their target; Dazai just happened to fall into his orbit. So, maybe they’re getting sidetracked. That’s not the point, but it does serve as a nice ‘fuck you’ to Mori once they inevitably complete the mission late.
Dazai executes his part of the plan brilliantly— well, executed, because his part is done, has been done for the good part of an hour. All he has to do now is wait for Chuuya to lure their target (an old and ugly businessman who honestly has no business in Yokohama) into the secluded area of the garden outside to finish the job.
“Just let me do my work,” Chuuya huffs, puffing his cheeks. However, he doesn’t make a move to leave Dazai’s side, which brings a slight smile to his face. How very much like the dog Chuuya is.
“If you want to do it so bad, then hurry, it’s not like I’m stopping you!” Dazai exclaims gleefully. Chuuya shoots him a glare, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly.
“You’re going to do something disgraceful the moment I leave,” Chuuya defends. Well, that’s not wrong…
So, instead of answering, Dazai bats his eyes innocently. Chuuya clicks his tongue, finally sick of standing beside him any longer, and stalks off in the direction of their target. Dazai frowns.
It’s none of his business how things go from here, really, but Chuuya is still his dog. And, Dazai does have some sense of responsibility, however untrue that sounds (and probably is). So, naturally, he decides to tag along, albeit making sure to keep his presence hidden among the crowd.
It’s boring, to say the very least. Chuuya seats himself on the bar stool next to the man, tucking his dress underneath his knees, and begins to make small talk with him. The older man is very obviously raking his eyes up and down the chibi’s body, and Dazai feels his mood sour instantly.
Why? He doesn’t know, but the idea of someone staring at Chuuya like that leaves a particularly bad taste in his mouth.
At some point, the man’s hand begins to rub up and down Chuuya’s thighs, and Dazai begins to think that it would be very fun to cut that hand off. Chuuya doesn’t seem particularly bothered, but he definitely doesn’t enjoy it, if the way he shifts away repeatedly says anything. Chuuya leans close and whispers something to the man, and the man nods eagerly. Dazai’s frown deepens.
He knows that this is the part where Chuuya leads the businessman to the garden, but there’s a bubble in Dazai’s veins that threatens to erupt. He unclenches his hands— ah, was he clenching them to begin with?— and sees that there are crescent-shaped welts in his skin, blood welling up in some. Oops.
Dazai silently follows as Chuuya and the man filter out of the room and into the backyard of the mansion, glaring at anyone who tries to cross paths with him. They get the hint easy enough— maybe it’s his one-eyed stare that’s so intimidating, but it does the trick, so he doesn’t ponder that any further.
There’s a moment he loses sight of the two of them, but it’s easy enough to figure out where they are. The garden outside is illuminated by white lanterns, giving the place a luminescent feel with the faint stirrings of a sunrise in the horizon. However, Dazai disregards all of that— he can only see how the man has somehow wound his arm around Chuuya’s hip, massaging the area over his dress with a finger. Dazai clenches his jaw, and something very audibly cracks.
Of course, he’s not going to make a scene. There are still people milling around, so they’re not nearly secluded enough. He doesn’t even know why he’s suddenly feeling so cranky.
Finally, finally, they reach the area of the garden where they’re supposed to finish the mission. Chuuya momentarily steps aside from the man, and Dazai keeps himself cloaked in the darkness of the bushes. However, the man chases after the redhead with his fingertips, and when they catch on Chuuya’s hair— well.
Dazai is the epitome of control. He’s proud to say that not much can rile him up, much less anything concerning the chibi. Negotiations that are going downhill? Fine. Mori being an infuriating and annoying thorn in his side? Fine. Chuuya looking so admittedly tantalizing in his red dress and heels? Fine, but just barely.
However, seeing that man, an unknown face that Dazai doesn’t care enough to remember, touching Chuuya, pries at the edges of those restraints, leaving Dazai more bloodthirsty than he remembers being in a long time. Chuuya’s hair, especially, is off limits. Dazai knows it, hell Chuuya knows it, and Dazai’s rather surprised that Chuuya hasn’t sent the other flying with an uppercut to the jaw.
Slowly, Dazai emerges from the shadows. Chuuya’s eyes flicker to him momentarily in surprise, which is understandable, since Chuuya was supposed to carry out the rest of the mission from here, but Dazai couldn’t resist himself. He walks quietly to where his partner is, and slips into the empty space beside Chuuya, and the man’s gaze meets his.
“Huh? Who are you?” He asks, notably irritated. Dazai smiles coldly.
“Me? That’s not important now, is it?.”
—
“What was that about, anyways?” Chuuya remarks, patting his dress down. His heels are beyond repair, bloody and dirty from crushing the bastard’s skull in, and Dazai just shrugs. Tch. Figures.
They walk in silence for a few more moments, reaching the sea side just beyond the garden of the mansion. It’s easily five in the morning now, the sun just barely peeking over the horizon, yet Chuuya’s surprised to say that he’s not sleepy at all, everything considered. Dazai seems to be the same way, though it’s impossible to tell with his always-blank face. However, there’s just the hint of irritation in his expression, in the way that his jaw seems tighter than usual.
Urgh, Chuuya hates that he can tell that something’s wrong from a detail so small.
He begins to thread his fingers through his hair, gazing into the ocean. He can feel how Dazai shifts beside him slightly, but ignores it in favor of breathing in the refreshing ocean air.
That’s of course when Dazai decides to break the tranquility.
“Did you like it? When he touched you?”
Chuuya nearly jumps out of his skin when Dazai speaks, and whips his head around to glare at the mackerel. “The hell? What do you mean, ‘did I like it’?!”
There’s still a frown ever-present on Dazai’s face, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, his eyes land on Chuuya’s hair, and Chuuya pauses his ministrations, narrowing his eyes.
Dazai’s been incredibly clingy today, more so than he usually is. Especially grumpy, too, like there’s something he can’t stand. It’s not Chuuya’s attire, sure— while it’s obviously different from his usual style, he noticed Dazai’s gaze on his body more often than he’d like to admit to himself. Furthermore, he seemed fine up until the moment Chuuya left him, which was when Chuuya was about to—
He freezes, eyes widening fractionally. He’s no genius, but he’s not a fucking idiot either. There’s only one reason for Dazai’s moodiness, and it’s right under Chuuya’s nose.
“The great Dazai Osamu can get jealous? You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Chuuya teases as he raises his eyes, lips twitching. Dazai furrows his eyebrows, and a pout begins to form on his face.
“Jealous of what?” He grumbles, and— oh. It’s admittedly cute. Chuuya chuckles, a breeze flowing lightly to lift his dress. Dazai’s eyes follow it, and his lips flatten into a line.
Chuuya turns, tugging Dazai forward to face him. It’s easier because he kicked off his heels earlier, and Dazai lets himself get pulled in. Standing on his tiptoes, Chuuya pulls on Dazai’s tie to force him down, and knocks their foreheads together.
“You’re an idiot,” he breathes, before pressing their lips together.
(And, while he never admits it for as long as he lives, Dazai does indeed feel his heart practically beat out of his chest in that one moment.)
Dazai-san swoons, a satisfied grin on his face. “How’s that for a story, hm, Atsushi-kun?”
“W-was that—“ God, Atsushi’s almost afraid to ask, “Was that the ‘Kiss Before Dawn’?”
It slips from his lips before he can stop it, and he’s more than terrified to hear the answer. It’s not a secret that there’s something between Dazai-san and Nakahara-san, but this just feels like Atsushi’s being wedged between a case of one-sided love and a love-hate relationship. Possibly the latter. No, definitely the latter. The point is, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to look Nakahara-san in the eye without remembering this story.
Dazai-san nods vigorously, looking exceptionally proud, as if it were supposed to be an accomplishment. “Absolutely! It has a nice ring to it, ne? Chibi didn’t like it, but let us keep it eventually.” He glances at the clock in the corner of the room, blinking, “But, I’m afraid I have to cut that part of the story short! After all, I have somewhere to be right now!”
“E-eh? Dazai-san, you can’t leave yet!”
And, really, since Dazai-san never listens, not even when Yosano and Kunikida are yelling for him to return, it ends in Atsushi trying to chase his mentor down, only to lose him after turning one corner.
He stares at the empty alleyway miserably, trying to process just what the hell he just went through. He doesn’t think he wants to process it. Maybe it’s better to forget it?
(Which is exactly why he forgets to ask about just what the strategy ‘ Kiss Before Dawn’ even stood for in the first place.)
“Ah? You’re home early.”
“Aww, did you miss me, Chuuya?”
“Pfft. Like hell.” A knife is tossed in his direction, and Dazai catches it by the hilt, setting it gently on the marble countertop. Chuuya doesn’t look back, and continues to chop the vegetables for lunch (which Dazai will end up complaining about anyways, but oh well).
“You seemed like you expected me, though.” Dazai’s gaze racks shamelessly up Chuuya’s backside, distinctly appreciative of the pink apron he’s wearing. Chuuya clicks his tongue, and pointedly ignores him, which brings a smile to Dazai’s lips.
Dazai makes his way across the length of the kitchen, resting his chin on Chuuya’s shoulder. The mafioso doesn’t so much as flinch, entirely used to his mannerisms, and oh if that doesn’t make Dazai feel warm inside.
“Weird. You seem to be in a good mood today,” Chuuya comments as he throws the vegetables into a stir fry. Dazai hums contentedly.
“Mm, Chibi, do you remember that one dress you wore in that mission when we were seventeen?”
Chuuya noticeably stiffens under him, and Dazai can feel him strain his head to glare at him. “Hah? What about it?”
Dazai snorts silently, nosing at Chuuya’s hair. “Can you try it on?” Then, because he knows Chuuya’s weak for it, he adds, “Please?”
Confidently, he lets his plea take affect, because now there’s no doubt Chuuya will relent.
There’s some disgruntled muttering under Chuuya’s breath, and he resumes his stirring. “If you’re at least tolerable today, and actually eat your fucking vegetables, then I’ll maybe consider it,” he grumbles, sounding reluctant, and Dazai notes with glee that the tips of Chuuya’s ears are nearly as red as his hair now. Getting Chuuya flustered is just a plus side to the whole situation.
Admittedly (and very obviously, as Chuuya oh-so-smartly states), Dazai does hate vegetables with a passion, but if it’s for being able to see Chuuya all dressed up again? It’s a necessary sacrifice.