Work Text:
Everything has been arranged for a clean, swift assassination against one of Port Mafia’s current enemies.
With its bevy of expensive, foreign boutiques, Motomachi Shopping District is usually not as raucous compared to the nearby shopping districts. Today, the one-way Motocho Street is closed to vehicular traffic in order to make room for a parade.
A lot of civilians and noise for cover, which is what they’re target is hoping for. According to their target’s itinerary: after landing in Haneda Airport, he will spend the night at the Intercontinental, before shopping at Motomachi. Sightseeing at Motomachi Plaza, coffee at Starbucks, before going to Exelco Diamond beside it. Afterwards, their target will make his way to Chinatown, where he will offer diamonds as payment for cooperation with representatives from a budding mafia organization that has spread its roots from Shanghai.
In order to resolve two headaches at once, assassinating their target and making it seem like he’s gone away with the goods is the best course of action.
Chuuya’s hands are in his pockets, oversized glasses on his face. Instead of his usual work outfit, he’s dressed in a stylish casual ensemble that has many store clerks rushing to sell him clothes and jewelry. His hair is tied up on a high ponytail, showing off a bright pink sapphire earring dangling from his right earlobe. Fingerless gloves replace his usual, his nails done in the same bubbly color as his earring.
It’s the exact opposite of what one would expect from someone out on an assassination mission. His face, affiliation and abilities are well-known to anyone worth their salt in the underworld, so appearing as someone with an entirely different aura than his usual is key to approaching his target without raising their hackles.
“Ah, it’s the slug,” Dazai says, sliding to the spot beside him and biting the top of the taiyaki that he’s just ordered. “I prefer one that has a custard filling.”
He has to clamp down on the immediate urge to stab the interruption to his mission. He’s on the second floor of a shopping plaza in the opposite street from his target, who’s currently queuing up to buy breakfast from Starbucks.
“What the fuck are you doing here,” he hisses, resisting the desire to throw the snack that’s already soiled by the other’s saliva. He keeps his voice low and his expression as neutral as possible. It won’t do to suddenly start strangling a mummy in public, no matter how much the other deserves to be beaten up.
“Obviously, I’m here to skip work,” is said with a righteous huff. “Friday is all about relaxing after all, there’s no need to do all that paperwork that Kunikida-kun is so in love with!”
A heavy eyeroll as he smushes the food into the mackerel’s mouth when he senses him about to lean down to steal another bite. “A slacker through and through.”
Without any shame whatsoever, Dazai simply munches through the taiyaki. “Eh? That’s your only reaction? You’re becoming boring as you grow older, chibi.”
“What, you expect me to be jealous that you’ve mentioned another man’s name right to my face?”
With his mouth full of food and overflowing bullshit, “Shouldn’t you be feeling a sense of crisis that I have another partner?”
Another eyeroll. “If that means you’ll be stealing his food instead of mine, then feel free to elope with him.”
“Ah, so you’re jealous.”
“You’re becoming more stupid as you grow older, shitty mackerel.” He squints and watches his target take a seat near the door. According to the intel, he should go to the jewelry shop a few meters away afterwards, where one of the store clerks will slip him a purse full of diamonds as he buys an ostentatious engagement ring.
“With how secretive this must be, he will not risk meeting another party while in such an open coffee shop,” Dazai murmurs, following his line of thought. “It’s better to do everything inside Exelco—their glass panels are tinted, so outsiders can’t see what’s going on inside.”
“It’s better if you shut the fuck up and stay another planet away from me,” he grumbles, already aware that it’s useless to investigate the source of his mission’s leaks.
“Hearing you talk, it’s almost as if you’re not enjoying my presence, Chuuya.”
He considers buying barley tea, but with a fish following him around, there’s no guarantee that it wouldn’t fall under the other’s thieving hands. “You’re wrong. I really, really, really do not enjoy your presence at all.”
“Ah. Is that why you haven’t been slithering around like a slug?”
An unfathomable tone—is how he’d describe it, if he isn’t so attuned to the bastard’s propensities for being melodramatic and beyond childish. In a way, it really is a thing of wonder: how the two of them are able to swiftly erode each other’s usual calm and professional visages to something not even worthy of being considered a kindergartener’s pigtail-pulling fight.
He slants him a glance over the rims of his glasses. With grave gravitas, “I do not slither around like a slug, asshole.”
They probably are attracting all sorts of gazes right now. From a bit further away, he sees several young women clutching at each other’s elbows, pointing and whispering at Dazai’s face. Unfortunately, the topic is probably about how handsome he looks, rather than how he’s a scourge upon this world.
With the full force of a petulant child who will not be denied his toy of choice, “You usually go back to your home after a mission during weekdays. But! You’ve been going out drinking and playing with your subordinates almost everyday recently.”
“Do you really have absolutely nothing else to do, that you’ve taken to stalking me?” He shakes his head, feeling a twinge of sympathy for the Agency. Not only are they full of scrubs, but one of their supposedly smartest people is a giant idiot.
“There’s a new release of Motorcycle Race Road VI.” Very snooty. “If you’re not at home, then how can I win bets against you while competing on that game?”
It’s been rather busy over the past month. A suspicious accident to one of their biggest batch of shipments from the Continent; someone from Ace’s old squad making trouble; a whistleblower report on one of the frontrunners in the upcoming election, somehow landing Port Mafia in tangential hot water; that budding alliance that needs to be axed right now…
Manpower is spread thinly over all these problems, big and small. He hasn’t had the time to keep up with the updates to one of his favorite games.
Still, there’s a very important point that he can’t ignore here.
“Oi, what the fuck is up with that assumption that I’ll lose, huh?” His fingertips have a little bit of red bean filling left from the taiyaki that Dazai has stolen from him. As payback, he wipes it off against the mackerel’s shirt, something that he hasn’t seen on the other before. “Huh. You actually own something that’s not from the thrift store?”
That kind of insult has never managed to pierce the other’s thick skin. A light shrug, as the two of them move in tandem, drawing away from the building’s deck. “After all, I don’t own anything that fits this shade of pink.”
When Dazai says this, they’re at the staircase, on differing steps. With him slightly ahead in the move downstairs, their height difference widens even more. A bandaged hand stretches out to curve over his cheek, a move that’s probably making their onlookers sigh at the romance of it. With deliberate gentleness, a slightly-sweaty thumb rubs at his bottom lip.
He bares his teeth, before leaving a toothmark over that offensive thumb. “You mean to say that you committed credit card fraud once again.”
“Would you rather I showed up wearing something as tacky as your usual hat?”
“I’d rather you don’t interfere with my work.” He could hear the parade approaching, the steady thrum of humanity flowing towards their direction. This is the timing that his target is waiting for—to be able to slip into Exelco Diamond’s shop with the least attention on him as possible.
“I have no desire to do anything related to work.” A scrunch of the nose, as Dazai continues rubbing his lip, unperturbed by his bite. “I’m only here to enjoy a good show.”
“Is that so?”
Just as he says this, he stretches out an arm, as if to scratch at a cheek that has been suffused with red from the other’s blatant flirtations. That’s what would anyone see, whether with warm, gossipy eyes or with the cold stare of a surveillance camera.
Dazai’s eyes are dark and full of interest, as he watches the reality of it play out in front of him.
With them in close contact, gravity manipulation is nullified. He doesn’t need it now, accurately pinpointing the correct amount of strength to lob over a small packet across the street. It’s colored in the same hues as the confetti that accompanies the paradegoers. It’s enough to sprinkle a hallucinogen developed by Kajii, lemon-scented as his usual.
“A light enough dose that it wouldn’t cause full hallucinations,” Dazai murmurs in appreciation. “Just to make him queasy and uncomfortable, that he’d appear very squirrely under everyone’s eyes.”
Since the fish is determined to stick to him, he tangles their hands together. As a means to keep an eye on the other man, just in case he gets any ideas about spicing his mission up. As a means to quiet down the other’s tantrums at not seeing his enemy at home when he’s feeling bored and lonely.
“If everyone suspects that he’s gotten itchy with his hands, the relationship between the two groups would grow sour.”
“Sowing discord, then you’ll come swooping down to take the spoils.”
They reach the ground floor, weaving through the pedestrian traffic and crossing the street. Several meters separate them from his target. Once the man enters the diamond store, Chuuya turns to the idiot beside him and asks, “Out of curiosity, how bad of a tantrum will you throw if I go inside the store, pretend to be dizzy, and fall into his arms?”
The answer comes rapidly in the form of Dazai risking a public indecency arrest. Their bodies crash into each other, as Dazai shoves him fiercely against the nearest streetlamp, one arm squeezing his waist, while another hand pulls hard at his ponytail. A kiss that’d probably be considered too filthy even for the red-light district, as the tongue that tells lies casually is now seriously showing off the truth about the other’s deep-seated possessiveness.
They kiss in broad daylight, his body heating up from the way he’s devoured by someone starved. His hands crease the new, expensive outfit on the mackerel’s body. “If he escapes today, I’m going to snap your neck, shitty Dazai.”
Once his target leaves the store, he’d go straight to Chinatown, around twenty minutes away. If Port Mafia is to make the two organizations have a fallout, the meeting should never happen.
As expected of someone who’s been feared as the demon prodigy for years, Dazai tells him, “I’ve slipped a powerful laxative to the pastry he ordered earlier, he’s going to take some time before he goes to Chinatown.”
The pastry…?
But that would mean…
“Impressed, hmm?” It’s as if there are dog ears and a tail on the other man. They’d probably be wagging fiercely right now, eager to be praised for his tricks. “I could easily read Chuuya’s plans and thoughts, so I’ve gone ahead and went to Starbucks before meeting up with you.”
He wriggles against the other’s body, standing on one leg while his other leg is wrapped like a vine over the fish. “And if that guy looks like he’s drunkenly and desperately rushing to the toilets, then those reviewing the security footages would think that he’s rushing to stow away the diamonds.”
“And then you can complete your mission perfectly, get the rest of your day off and pamper me on a date for helping you out.”
“What help are you talking about?” He raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “I’ve made my arrangements properly, I didn’t need your interference at all!”
“Fufufu, I was kind enough to give you an excuse.” Shoulders shake from faint laughter. “It’d be embarrassing even for a slug like you if you were to simply take me out on a date without any pretense, right?” More chuckles. “Of course, aside from the fact that I’m so handsome and cool.”
Chuuya rolls his eyes and indulges him in one last kiss, before pulling away. He knocks on the other’s ribs, as if to dislodge all of the stupidity. “You’re the one who skipped work for the sake of seeing me today. You should be the one who’s embarrassed.”
Dazai pats his cheek, equally indulgent. “Of course, I’d skip work. If I don’t, then what would happen if you end up thinking that I like my work and workmates more than you?”
“You think too much of yourself,” he retorts, but generously doesn’t break the other’s hand even though he’s so irritating. “Why the hell would I worry about such a stupid thing? Obviously, you like me the most.”
The mackerel makes a face like he’s just been told that crabs are about to go extinct. “Eh, no way. I like you a very chibi amount.”
He spots his target move out of the shop, swaying like a particularly ragged tumbleweed. He’s making a beeline towards another coffee shop, opposite direction of the road he needs to take to go to Chinatown.
Still, it’s better to just end things here.
That way, he can finish his mission and have an early time-off.
“Oi, Dazai.” His tone grows serious. “I deliberately avoided meeting you for the past month in order to drive you crazy with yearning.”
Just as the fish’s mouth gapes open, incredulous beyond belief at the possibility of him scheming like this, he runs away from his side, and closes the distance between him and his target, so he can accidentally bump into him, snatch the goods from his grasp, then attach a small blade into his shirt.
Dazai “I’m too lazy to even breathe” Osamu runs after him, and he laughs, wild with youthful happiness, blending along with the parade. When the fish catches him, he laughs at him some more for his heart going on overdrive.
“You really should stop skipping morning exercises,” he points out, slipping away from the mackerel’s embrace so he can use gravity manipulation to sink the blade deeper. It would be considered a remote assassination by way of making it look like a mugging gone wrong.
“Or you could stop being such a mean chibi.”
He doesn’t bother saying something like, “If I was boring and didn’t challenge you at every point, we’d never be like this.”
Instead, what he says is, “Yeah, yeah, I’m so mean, so I can’t find a date today.” With a smirk, he hooks his fingers into the other’s belt loops and asks, “How about it, shitty Dazai?”
His reply is smothered by the roar of the passing parade, but they both hear it all the same.
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end