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—(1)—
The first time it happens, Dazai almost doesn’t notice. That probably has something to do with the fact that, despite the seven different pain-killers coursing through his veins, the sharp ache in his abdomen makes it hard to focus on anything else.
Pain is a jealous lover, he muses.
Finding his bearings after a knockout wound is always a tough one, and he grits his teeth through the pain as he tries parsing through the few, vague memories his brain chooses to reveal to him. The spike on his heart monitor must give him away though, because not a second later his wonderful view of the ceiling is interrupted by a highly emotional blur of yellow.
“Dazai!”
It’s almost too much for him to crack a smile and swallow down his nausea long enough to register the relief filling his partner’s eyes.
“Kunikida-kun…?” His voice sounds even worse than it feels, but he’s proud of himself for not screaming the second he opens his mouth. “How lovely of you to pay me a visit.”
“This isn’t by choice, you bastard,” Kunikida frowns, falling back into the chair at his bedside and scooting close enough for Dazai to smell the sandalwood shampoo he must have used a few hours ago. “You’d think that after getting kidnapped so many times—voluntarily—you would’ve learned how to escape petty criminals trying to end your life!”
“Ah, my sweet Idealist. You know I’d never pass up a chance to die!” This, of course, isn’t true, but he hopes Kunikida won’t notice.
“Cut the crap, Dazai.” Okay, he noticed. “We both know that you value your insane double suicide too much to lose your life over some rogue ability user.”
Dazai wants to defend himself, but the gray eyes glaring at him leave no room for argument.
“And besides, even if you purposefully opened yourself up to injury, you wouldn’t have let it get this out of hand. So admit it. You miscalculated.”
Damn it. It’s true. He’d gone off on his own again thinking he could handle a simple element-manipulator. He wasn’t expecting them to also be well-versed in knife throwing. But Kunikida didn’t need to know that.
His smile slips into something more self-deprecating. “Someone’s been spending an awful lot of time with Ranpo-san. With those deductive skills, it’s no wonder you’re the Agency’s leader!”
The blond’s frown only deepens, and Dazai knows he’s in for an earful. “Dazai—”
“I know, I know,” he finally drops the smile and any pretense of deceit. Kunikida can see through it anyway, so might as well save that extra bit of energy. “I should’ve been more thorough in my research. I’ll be more careful next time.”
“It’s not just about knowing, idiot! You have to understand! Even after this, I know you’ll continue to stray from the team and survive by the skin of your teeth until you wind up back here. How long are you planning to test your luck?” He’s seething by the end, and if Dazai wasn’t so out of it, he would’ve known not to push it.
“Aw, is Kunikida-kun jealous that I went on my own? If you wanted to tag along with me, you could’ve just asked.”
His eye is twitching as he leans further into Dazai’s space, knuckles going white where he’s gripping onto the side-rails of the hospital bed. “Shut up! You—you are so infuriating! Do you not realize how stupid it was for you to do this? I know you don’t care enough about your own life, but confronting the target without any backup could’ve cost many innocent lives! It’s a miracle no civilians were around to—”
He stops abruptly mid-tirade. “…What are you doing?”
“What?” Dazai chooses to feign ignorance. He’s half-convinced this is a dream anyway, because no way is what he is seeing real.
“Don’t ‘what’ me! Why are you…” Kunikida trails off, lips settling into something of a bashful grimace. His cheeks are a wonderful shade of pink as he breaks eye contact and instead focuses on Dazai’s hand in his hair.
“Oh. This?” Dazai twirls a strand of blond hair around his finger, losing himself for a moment in the silky feel of it. “You never told me you had such nice hair, Kunikida-kun. So long and soft…one might even go so far as to call it pretty!”
“I never to—” Kunikida’s face flushes ten shades darker, and he slaps away Dazai’s bandaged hand. “Shut up! Why should I have to tell you that I have hair, anyway? Isn’t that blatantly obvious?”
“Not just any hair!” Dazai pouts. “Pretty hair! Maybe you really are the damsel in distress of this partnership.”
“Not a chance,” Kunikida scoffs. “I’ve saved you from yourself too many times to be discredited because of my hair.”
Dazai smiles again, this time genuinely, and fights against the new round of medication long enough to run a hand through his hair once more. “Pretty hair.”
His eyes slip shut as the meds wash over him and the pain finally recedes. He doesn’t get to see Kunikida’s small smile, but he can just barely make out the sound of his soft laughter.
—(2)—
The second time it happens, Dazai is once again inebriated. This time by choice.
“Kunikida-kuuuuun!” He croons, leaning heavily into the blond’s side where he’s been situated for the past ten minutes. “Are you taking me home? How uncouth! At least take me to dinner first.”
“For the last time, yes, we’re going to your home. And we’ve finally arrived, thank god.” Kunikida fumbles for a moment as he reaches into his pocket to grab his ring of keys, among them being the one to Dazai’s apartment. “And technically speaking, we just had dinner.”
Ah, the Agency party. Somewhere in his alcohol-muddled brain, Dazai sees glimpses of Atsushi fumbling his way through a dance with Kyouka, Ranpo using Kenji as a perpetually-smiling busboy, and Yosano aggressively drunk-flirting with a sheepish Junichirou and narrowly avoiding Naomi’s attempt to slap her away. That, and one too many bottles of delectable sake.
“Kunikidaaa,” he pouts as the blond fits the key into the keyhole and gently drags him into the apartment. “Why don’t I remember you?”
To his credit, Kunikida doesn’t even blink at the vague—and slightly alarming—question, and continues to maneuver Dazai onto his futon. “Assuming you’re referring to your memories of the party, I was busy finishing up reports, so I came for the last hour or so. You were pretty gone by then. I don’t know why the President still lets you drink.”
“But…” Dazai’s eyes trail after him as he sets off into the kitchen. Maybe to get him more sake. His partner is so kind, sometimes. “Why are you here?”
“Someone had to haul your ass home,” Kunikida comes back bearing a glass of water and paracetamol tablets. Dazai frowns. Spoilsport. “And since I’m the closest, I got stuck with the task.”
“Awww, don’t be like that Kunikida-kun. I know how much you care about me.”
“As if,” he retorts, but his rare smile gives him away. “And sit back down, you will not be throwing up on me.”
But Dazai only takes another step forward, and another, and another, until he’s close enough to know his eyes aren’t deceiving him.
“So it wasn’t a dream,” he whispers, squinting at the yellow curls spilling over Kunikida’s shoulders. “You really do have hair.”
His partner seems taken aback, eyes widening before he laughs incredulously. “What does that mean? Of course I have hair!”
“I know that! But… b-but it’s never like…” Dazai’s face burns as he gestures ambiguously at Kunikida’s head. “You know… that.”
It takes him a second to figure out why he’s suddenly tongue-tied, but then he realizes he would’ve been better off not knowing that the reason is simply that Kunikida looks damn good with long hair.
“Oh, sorry,” he says, not at all apologetic. “I usually put my hair down after 10 to soothe my scalp. I hope it doesn’t bother you.”
He even has an Ideal schedule for hair. It does bother Dazai as a matter of fact, but he knows Kunikida’s words were merely spoken out of his inherent politeness. “It’s not fair.”
Somehow, it’s only now that Kunikida looks genuinely confused. “What isn’t? Me having hair?”
“No, dummy!” Dazai frowns before taking a sip of refreshingly cold water. He needs to sober up fast before he says something stupid. “You looking so beautiful is what’s not fair!”
Shit. Dazai refuses to let regret show on his face. He is nothing if not prideful, even if it means owning up to his drunk ramblings and completely forgetting about it (denying it) in the morning.
“I—um…” There it is again, the soft pink blush that seems too delicate for the harsh lines of Kunikida’s face. And yet, somehow, the contrast makes it all the more stunning. “Thank you…?”
“You’re welcome.” Dazai downs the whole glass and shivers as the icy water forces its way down his throat. “Now go away.”
That’s a little less charming of a request to leave than Dazai was hoping for, but Kunikida doesn’t take offense. He’s seen worse from Dazai, anyway.
“Alright, fine,” he huffs, prying the glass from Dazai’s cold fingers and gently pushing at his shoulder until he’s lying comfortably on the futon. “Get some rest. You better be ready to go at 7 A.M. tomorrow or else I’m barring you from any future parties.”
“Whatever you say, Kunikida-kun,” Dazai smiles, and he wants to pick on him more, but the day's activities seem to catch up to him all at once, and he closes his eyes. Only for a minute, and then he’ll see Kunikida to the door.
His snores soon fill the room, and this time he doesn’t hear Kunikida’s laughter as he carefully removes Dazai’s shoes and sets them neatly by the door on his way out.
—(3)—
The third time it happens, Dazai is glad he isn’t the only one caught off-guard. Somehow, Atsushi’s stunned expression is slightly comforting.
“K-Kunikida-san…” he whispers, and then turns to look imploringly at Dazai as if he can somehow explain the sight they’re both facing.
Dazai just shrugs, because he doesn’t have the excuse of being under the influence for saying something stupid this time.
“He has… hair?” Atsushi wonders out loud, and immediately flushes in embarrassment at Dazai’s amused glance.
“I—I mean, I knew he had long hair because of his pony-tail, but… ”
“But it’s different seeing it for yourself, right?” Dazai finishes after Atsushi trails off in favor of fiddling nervously with his fingers. “It’s okay, Atsushi-kun, I thought the same thing at first.” Still do, he doesn’t say.
The President’s protege currently has his back turned to them, so they both have an unobstructed view of the blond locks cascading down to his middle back. It’s even more jarring this time, not only because of his sobriety, but also because of the fact that they’re at work.
As much as Dazai might disregard the standards of a formal workplace, he knows Kunikida would sooner put himself in the line of fire than show up to work looking slightly disheveled.
But after noticing the tense hand he’s running through his hair, Dazai has more of an idea of what’s going on.
“Atsushi-kun,” he says, deliberately cheerful, careful not to spook either his subordinate or his partner at the other end of the room. “Could you go fetch Ranpo-san for me? I think he and Kenji-kun are handling a case by the docks and I need to run something by him.”
Instead of questioning why he doesn’t go search for the detective himself, Atsushi nods amiably and leaves without another word, probably sensing the tension in the room and deciding to steer clear of any impending arguments. Not that it was hard to miss, with the way the blond was practically radiating distress.
He breathes in a deep, grounding breath, and strolls into the office, hands clenched into nervous fists inside his pockets. “Kunikida-kun? Wow, are you a sight for sore eyes!”
He already has a smile on his face, ready to face whatever scolding Kunikida has in store for him—maybe another overdue report? But it drops as soon as he hears a wet gasp and sees the tremor in the line of Kunikida’s shoulders.
“…Dazai,” the blond chokes out, hastily wiping at his face as he continues facing the window. “You’re late.”
Dazai doesn’t bother responding to that obvious attempt of distracting him. “Kunikida. What happened?”
He’s finally crossed the room and is standing just behind the blond, trying to peek over his shoulder to get a gauge of the situation. Dazai doesn’t consider himself a person with a heart, but something in him breaks when he sees the sheen of tears on Kunikida’s cheeks.
“Nothing. I have it under control, there’s nothing you need to worry about.”
Like hell I’m buying that. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But know that you aren’t fooling anyone with that lie.”
It’s harsh, yes, but it’s what Kunikida needs to hear. Months of working with him eventually proved to Dazai that the blond hated being coddled, even when he was obviously in need of help.
Kunikida scoffs but otherwise doesn’t argue, and Dazai breathes a sigh of relief when Kunikida lets his shoulders drop. He stays stubbornly facing the city streets.
“It is true that nothing happened,” he starts, and Dazai almost groans in frustration. But then he keeps going. “I just…remembered some unfortunate events.”
He immediately thinks of a little girl strapped with bombs and the untimely sacrifice of a teenaged boy, and he aches with an amount sympathy he didn’t know he had.
“Kunikida—” He has the sudden urge to comfort the other man, and he rides the impulse as he rests a hand on the other’s shoulder. He resolutely does not think about the soft blond hair brushing against his skin.
Unfortunately, his partner isn’t as amenable to this as Dazai found himself hoping for, and he shakes off his hand. Dazai lets his hand fall without protest.
“I’m fine,” Kunikida insists, more for himself than anything, and rubs at his eyes one last time before turning around to face Dazai.
He should look terrible, with his eyes rimmed red, his skin irritated from the salt of tears, and his hair ruffled as a result of distressed hands.
But by some cruel twist of fate, he’s the most beautiful Dazai’s ever seen him. The sunlight reflects off of his gray eyes, making them shine like crystal, and the splotchy red of his cheeks partners beautifully with the spun-gold strands of his hair.
It’s not fair, he remembers himself saying, and he hates himself for thinking it.
“For the record,” he forces himself to speak, lest he get caught feeling emotions . “You are one of the bravest people I’ve ever met. And you’ve saved so many lives. I know that doesn’t make up for the losses you’ve faced, but I have every bit of faith in the fact that you’ll continue to protect every single person that you can. You’re a good man, Kunikida. Don’t let yourself forget that.”
It’s quiet between them for a moment, an eternity of Dazai willing his feelings down and pointedly ignoring the urge to embrace the other. He’d meant every word, and he needs to ensure that Kunikida truly takes them to heart.
Eventually, the other cracks a smile, albeit a wobbly, sad-at-the-corners smile, but Dazai knows he’s been understood.
“Thank you, Dazai,” he lets out a soft chuckle, a little self-critical, but otherwise relieved by the reassurance. “I…needed to hear that.”
Dazai smiles back. “Of course. Can’t have my partner caving after only a few years of working together, can I?”
Kunikida rolls his eyes, looking way too miffed for someone who was crying not even a minute ago. “I think I could survive being away from you for longer.”
“Owww, Kunikida-kun is so harsh! I spill my heart out to him and this is how he repays me!”
“You’re an idiot,” Kunikida says, and Dazai can tell he’s stifling a grin as he shakes his head. His hair sways entrancingly over his shoulders at the movement, and this is bad—Dazai needs to get his emotions under control.
“Not as much as you, partner,” he sticks his tongue out, and steps back just enough to evade Kunikida’s half-attempted swat at his shoulder.
He turns around and is about to leave for the cafe, before he remembers the slight compress around his wrist.
“Oh! Before I go,” he slides the hair tie off of his wrist that he’d grabbed off of Kunikida’s desk and tosses it behind him, smirking at the sound of his partner catching it mid-air. “You should probably tie that hair back, princess. Atsushi-kun almost didn’t recognize you with those luscious curls.”
There’s a brief moment of indignant noises before Kunikida finally puts together an actual sentence. “Go away, Dazai!”
“Already gone!” Dazai shouts behind him, not bothering to hold back his laughter.
—(4)—
The fourth time it happens, Dazai is incredibly pissed off. He’s also laughably out of breath.
The person who’d left the anonymous tip taped on the Agency’s door turned out to be the knife-throwing ability user from a few months ago, and apparently surviving a fight against Dazai Osamu wasn’t enough for him.
“Dazai! Watch your left!”
Dazai grits his teeth as Kunikida’s yell grates at his ears and he dashes to the right just in time to avoid the blade hurtling by his shoulder. He knows to watch his left, damnit, he’s only a little tired—he can still fight!
He shouts as much to his partner from the other side of the abandoned lot, and once again dodges a knife, this time coming from his right.
His ability leaves him slightly useless in this fight, because the target is regrettably smart enough to stay a considerable distance away from Dazai, and he can’t do much about real weapons aside from trying to exhaust his arsenal. Which unfortunately means dodging his, worryingly, heart-aimed shots for thirty—going on forty—minutes.
“Kunikida!” He shouts again, frustrated with how worn out he sounds to his own ears. He really needs to get back in shape. “Hasn’t it been long enough yet?”
“We still have no information on this guy—we have to keep pressing! What, don’t tell me you’re tired already?”
Infuriatingly, Kunikida sounds completely unaffected, and if Dazai couldn’t see the man for himself, he would’ve guessed he was simply interrogating a suspect in the local prison.
“Of course not,” he wheezes, ducking down as a blade comes hurtling at his face. He turns around and frowns at the small lock of brown hair at his feet. He was going for the head now? “Aw, man. And here I was trying so hard to grow my hair out to match yours, Kunikida-kun.”
“What? What are you talking about?” The blond grunts as he fakes left and slides behind an empty truck on his right, probably buying time to activate his own ability.
Dazai tries to buy him that time, making eye-contact with the target and mustering his most degrading smile. “Hey, knife boy! You missed! And there I thought you would be the one to offer me sweet salvation. Silly me.”
He hopes the other doesn’t bring up the way he almost did just that a few months ago. Luckily, he seems too busy being offended by Dazai’s stab at his ego.
“You aren’t worthy of my blades!” The boy screams, and continues to pelt knives at him anyway. “You know nothing of justice!”
“Justice?” Kunikida finally emerges from behind the truck, and thank god for that because Dazai doesn’t know how much longer he could’ve handled the one-on-one attention from knife boy. “The same could be said for you knife-wielder! How is this justice?”
“You got my brother killed!” He spits at them, and oh yeah, no wonder he looks so familiar. He was one of the witnesses in a train bombing incident last year, and apparently the brother of the bomber. He hadn’t even received a final sentencing before he died a tragic, ironic death, locked up alone in a train car with a bomb. Apparently, Port Mafia’s lemon-bomber looked down upon copycat crimes.
So technically, it wasn’t their fault, but he didn’t want to push his luck by angering the boy further.
“Your brother had what was coming to him!” Kunikida shouts. Oh no, Dazai thinks.
The boy somehow manages to look even angrier, and sends a flurry of sharp metal on a collision course with Kunikida’s face. Most of them miss spectacularly, but one comes way too close for comfort and Dazai’s breath catches in his chest. At the last second, Kunikida shifts and turns—
The knife miraculously grazes past his head. Dazai lets out a heavy sigh of relief.
Unfortunately, his ponytail doesn’t make it unscathed, and as luck would have it, the knife hits at just the right point and angle to cut through his hair tie. Dazai might have poked fun at the unintentional accuracy if he wasn’t currently on the cusp of a crisis.
There it is again, the hair. Kunikida has no right looking so… that when Dazai himself probably looks ready to collapse at a single gust of wind. His hair tumbles gracefully down his back, and though he is undoubtedly sweating from exertion, instead of leaving him looking greasy the moisture makes the tips of his hair curl just right to frame his glowing face. There’s blood caked on his forehead from where a knife had grazed too close, some dripping from his nose because of course Kunikida’s weak nostrils would hit him with a nosebleed in battle, and somewhere along the fight his glasses must have been knocked askew, because now Dazai’s breath is catching for an entirely different reason as he grapples with the look in those gray eyes.
“If you refuse to accept the truth, then that’s not my problem. But I cannot let you put more innocent lives at stake in your childish pursuit of revenge!”
The words must strike a nerve because the boy stills, and he’s on the ground in a flash when Kunikida gets him with the stun gun. By the time Dazai saunters over, Kunikida locks the handcuffs in place and starts a search of the boy’s backpack and pockets. Dazai joins in.
Surprisingly, they find no knives, and Dazai realizes belatedly that the blades were just chunks of manifested earth that his ability allowed him to turn into sharpened metal. Maybe this could’ve ended a lot sooner than it had.
What they do find, however, is a picture of the target and his late brother, and a hand-written letter that’s eerily similar to a suicide note. Dazai finds himself feeling more empathetic than he should when he agrees with Kunikida to visit the boy in jail.
“Well, that was fun!” Dazai muses, watching Kunikida gather the last of the scattered metal shards after they’d handed the boy over to the police. “Don’t you think so, Kunikida-kun?”
“Your definition of ‘fun’ is incredibly skewed. You’re just happy you found another mentally unhinged individual who’d probably agree to die with you.”
“Exactly! What’s more fun than that?” Dazai claps his hands under his chin and plays up the dreamy expression he imparts to his partner. “You should be happy for me, Kunikida-kun. Even if he’s not a beautiful woman, I’ve finally found someone to commit a double suicide with!”
“Crazy bastard,” Kunikida coughs, and Dazai so badly wants to tease him more, but the way he looks brushing a hand across his lips to wipe away the drying blood while the wind sends a treacherously picturesque breeze fluttering through his hair renders him speechless.
This is absolutely criminal. Kunikida should be the one in the police car while Dazai achieves his morbid romantic fantasy with knife boy.
“Crazy for you, Kunikida-kun,” and if it comes out a bit more earnest than a joke should, neither of them mention it. Dazai would laugh if he wasn’t so tired.
—(5)—
The fifth time it happens, Dazai is dying. Or he’s trying to, anyway.
He’d wound up in the river again, this time stripped of his usual outfit in the hopes that, should an Agency member go looking for him, they won’t suspect him to be the person wearing a frayed denim jacket and leopard-print tights.
Unfortunately, he severely miscalculated the number of Yokohama residents who would be floating in the river on a Saturday morning, and not even twenty minutes after he’d slipped out the Agency doors he’s being greeted by Kunikida’s angry shouting.
He isn’t able to make out much of it with the water flooding his ears, but from the sound of it, he’s screaming ‘Dazai, you suicidal maniac!’ or something of the like.
Only four minutes after his submersion is he being dragged out from the river and tossed down onto the grass. Dazai takes a dramatically haggard breath and coughs like he’s trying to hack out a lung. He plays it up if only to irk his partner further. In actuality, he is fine. Dazai can hold his breath underwater for up to ten minutes, an unexpected consequence of his many attempts against his life. Maybe he should start ruling off death by drowning if his body won’t cooperate with his wishes.
“This is the third time this month, Dazai! And it’s only the first week!” Kunikida kicks lightly at his side, careful not to seriously hurt him but firm enough for Dazai to want to keel over. He doesn’t though, and instead grants the blond a wide smile.
“Ah, Kunikida-kun, my unwanted savior! If it bothers you so much, how about you dump me back in there for a little swim?”
“Save your breath, dumbass. Like hell I’m doing that after I ruined my hair to get you out.”
And now that he mentions it… Dazai gulps, all desire to tease suddenly fleeing from his mind. Kunikida must have jumped in to pull him out, because he made sure to stay far enough from the banks when he began his unfortunately short submersion.
It probably isn’t good for his heart, switching so quickly from keeping him alive under the pressure of water to betraying his desperate attempts to not notice Kunikida’s dripping-wet hair. It shines unfairly well in the morning sun, somehow looking even smoother than all the other times he’d seen him with his hair down and accentuating the undeniably handsome features of his face.
It’s way too early for this. Dazai came here to die, not deal with some stupid infatuation.
“So sorry, Kunikida-kun,” he coughs out, willing himself to ignore whatever revelation is trying to push past the boundaries of his conscious thought. If he doesn’t think about it, there’s no it to deal with. “How about we go out for drinks to celebrate your noble act of service?”
“Drinks at 10 in the morning that I’ll end up paying for? No thanks,” Kunikida huffs, and offers his hand out for Dazai to pull himself upright.
He accepts it, of course, and refuses to let himself think about the warmth of Kunikida’s hand.
“Killjoy,” Dazai pouts, moving to stuff his hands into his pockets, until he realizes with an ice-cold bucket of shame that he is still stuck in the hideous outfit he’d set out to kill himself in. Good thing Kunikida turned down drinks.
Kunikida notices Dazai’s brief moment of self-questioning and latches onto it without hesitation. “Dazai, this needs to stop.”
“What needs to stop, Kunikida?” You looking so infuriatingly attractive? he wants to say, but that would be giving away more of himself than he’s comfortable with.
“These… suicides!” He gestures hopelessly at the river and Dazai’s soaking frame. “Look, I know it means a lot to you—for whatever screwed up reason—but it’s…it’s not only about you anymore, Dazai!”
Dazai drops the smile. “Like I said, Kunikida. If coming after me bothers you, then just stop. I’m not asking for you to take precious time out of your busy schedule to come and save me.”
“No—that’s not—coming after you isn’t the problem!” Kunikida pulls at his hair, a nervous tick that Dazai had never thought would be a danger to his well-being until now. “That didn’t come out the way I wanted it to. I meant—Dazai. You realize that there’s a reason the others and I continue to save you, right?”
“Because you hate me so much, you don’t want me to achieve my dream of a beautiful suicide? Because you’ll be a man down at the Agency?” It’s his last ditch effort at a joke, and it’s a terrible one going by the disappointed look he gets for it, but this conversation is rapidly edging into territory he doesn’t want to be explored.
“No, you thick-headed bastard! Because we care about you! We value your contributions to the Agency, but even more than that, we value the place you have in our lives.” Kunikida adjusts his glasses from where they’d been slipping down the bridge of his nose, and Dazai feels another pull in his chest from where his heart should be. “Sure, you’re obnoxious, and lazy, and so selfish sometimes, but…”
But? What more can there be to say about him? “You’re also intelligent, and personable, and compassionate when you want to be. You’re there for those who have no one else. You’re a good man, Dazai Osamu. There’s no replacing you.”
This has become too much, too fast. Dazai should have shut this conversation down before it could reach this point—he knew it would end up here, with Kunikida trying to convince him that he isn’t a waste of space and Dazai not fully believing him.
But then again, isn’t this what he wanted? That selfish part of him that Kunikida mentioned not even a minute ago—it was way worse than he thought. Dazai let him talk just because he wanted to hear it, what lies someone like Kunikida could come up with to somehow justify his existence. What kind of person knowingly sought out the validations of a truly good man, knowing they were the least to deserve it?
Dazai lets out a humorless laugh. It burns on its way out his throat. “I’m not a good man, Kunikida. The sooner you realize that, the easier things will be for the both of us.”
“No,” Kunikida stresses, and Dazai is surprised by the fervor in his voice. “I don’t care about whatever you might have done in the past—what matters is what you’re doing now! All good people have made mistakes, but what makes them good is their effort to overcome them. That’s what you did by joining the Agency.”
“And what if those weren’t mistakes?” Dazai isn’t sure what he’s getting at, but he can hear it in his own voice that he’s desperate to stop it. He needs Kunikida to understand. “Isn’t the fact that you had to drag me out of this damn river again proof enough? No matter what you say, it’s clear that I haven’t been able to move past my reckless disregard for human life!”
“You’re wrong, Dazai!” Kunikida’s voice has once again raised, and there’s something akin to pity flashing in his eyes. “You can’t even admit it to yourself, can you? If you really wanted to die, you would’ve been dead by now. Even if you write your hesitation off as waiting for a more fitting end, the truth is that there’s some part of you still fighting to stay alive.”
Dazai hates the way Kunikida’s gaze is making him feel like an open book. “What does that matter? That just makes me even more selfish, doesn’t it? Uselessly holding on to life even when I serve no purpose? That isn’t something a good man would do, Kunikida-kun.”
“Serve no purpose? Dazai, use your brain for once! Think about the hundreds of deaths you’ve prevented during your time at the Agency! All the times you’ve saved me and the others with your quick thinking! Think about Atsushi, the stray you picked up without any prompting, simply out of the kindness of your heart.”
“I was fulfilling a promise to a friend,” Dazai murmurs, all will to fight against Kunikida’s words lost as he lets his voice wash over him.
“But it was also a promise to yourself, right? The kid could just as easily have turned out like Akutagawa, but he didn’t. You’ve helped him grow into a strong young man—with considerably less bloodlust—and given him a home he wouldn’t otherwise have had. Don’t you see, Dazai? You’ve changed. You aren’t the man you used to be.”
“Kunikida…” Dazai isn’t sure when his legs had grown weaker and why the air seemed so thin as he struggled to keep himself upright. This is too much.
Ever the vigilant partner, Kunikida is there to catch him when he slumps forward, suddenly exhausted beyond words. “You’re such an idiot.”
Kunikida doesn’t take the bait, just brings a hand up to pat soothingly at his back. It’s only then that he remembers they’re both soaking wet. Two grown men in waterlogged clothing, embracing on the banks of the river. What might people think?
Dazai lets himself smile, too tired to voice his thoughts to Kunikida but cognizant enough to burrow deeper into the blond’s warmth. With every inhale, he gets another whiff of his shampoo and the subtle musk of his cologne still clinging to his vest. It’s more than he deserves, this level of comfort, but he won’t object if Kunikida believes otherwise.
“…Thanks,” he whispers into the blond hair tickling his cheek. It’s all he can manage, both too revealing and not revealing enough. There’s so much more that he wants to say to Kunikida, but he isn’t sure he’ll be able to make it without sacrificing more of his dignity.
He absolutely refuses to cry.
Kunikida hums, raising his other hand to comb through the short curls on the back of his neck. It’s heartbreakingly intimate. “Of course. It’s about time someone told it to you straight.”
“Yeah, whatever, Rapunzel,” Dazai says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. He tugs lightly on a curling strand of Kunikida’s hair.
“Shut up.” He can hear the smile in his voice.
—(+1)—
The sixth time it happens, Dazai isn’t the one who’s caught off guard.
“Dazai!”
He smirks behind his steepled fingers as Kunikida comes storming into the office, seven minutes later than his precious schedule dictates. His hair is a beautiful disaster.
“What did you do with my hair ties?!”
Ranpo is the only one brave enough to find humor in the situation as he lets out a loud laugh, gathers his chips, and walks out the Agency doors. Atsushi and Junichiro watch on with bated breath. Yosano rolls her eyes.
“Oh, these?” Dazai makes a show of reaching into his desk drawer, revealing the neat pack of sought-after hair ties with a flourish. “Sorry, I needed to borrow them for a bit.”
“All of them? You don’t even have hair long enough to need them!” Kunikida has already crossed the room, hands clenched into fists atop the glossy wood of his desk. “Give them back!”
“Hmm… no. I’ll pass,” Dazai feigns regret as he shoves the hair ties into his coat pocket. “Sorry, Kunikida-kun. I wish I could help you.”
“Tch, damn liar,” the blond looks away from his teasing smile and down at his shaking hands. Dazai knows he has too much pride to search through his coat himself. “What do you even need them for?”
“Oh, I don’t need them, Kunikida-kun,” his smile grows sharper as the other’s scowl deepens. “You, however, can go without them.”
“And what makes you say that?” He grits out, looking three seconds away from losing his cool and finishing Dazai off with his own two hands.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have amazing hair?”
That stops him right in his tracks. “Huh?”
“Because if not, I’d be happy to do the honors,” Dazai leans in close enough to see the fading scar on his brow bone from their fight with the knife-thrower. “You have really pretty hair, Kunikida-kun.”
“I—wha—huh?” Kunikida reels backward, but Dazai is quick to pull him in by the lapels of his vest.
“It’s true. It’s so smooth and shiny…” he tangles his fingers in Kunikida’s roots, darker than the gentle curls at the ends of his hair. “It didn’t make sense to me at first, but it really is the perfect style for you.”
“Dazai… what are you doing?” Kunikida’s voice is barely a whisper, and it makes him pause. Dazai wasn’t expecting Kunikida to make it five minutes without beating him up, let alone allow him to get this far in his impulsive pursuit.
So, lacking a better plan, Dazai goes for broke.
“This,” he whispers, pulling Kunikida closer by the grip he has on the back of his head, and plants a swift kiss on the tip of his nose.
“…”
Kunikida’s face is deceptively blank as he processes what just happened. Yosano chokes on her drink and bursts into laughter. Junichiro turns to look blankly at his computer screen. Atsushi stares in horror. Not ideal reactions by any means, but Dazai can’t fault them for it—he has no idea why he did that either.
They stare at each other, a conflicted brown meeting stone-cold gray, and Dazai finally starts counting his blessings lest he actually broke Kunikida and they both die on the spot.
“Did you just…” Kunikida mumbles and flushes a brilliant red, lips shaping uselessly around soundless words. Dazai laughs, borderline hysterical, as years of what he refused to call a friendship flash before his eyes.
“Nothing to say, Kunikida-kun?” He keeps his voice light, teasing, because what else can he do other than make this seem like another joke? He schools his face into a neutral expression, careful not to give away the yearning ache in his chest.
But it was stupid of him to assume that his partner couldn’t read between the lines. Gray eyes search deep within his own for an infinite moment. He’s suddenly forgotten how to breathe.
And then he’s being kissed. Kunikida is kissing him.
Dazai’s eyes widen comically, and if it wasn’t for the shocked gasps of the rest of the Agency, he’s not sure he would’ve believed it either.
But he’s here, with Kunikida’s lips on his mouth and his gentle hand resting on his hip, and Dazai can’t deny himself any longer. He kisses him back, squeezing his eyes shut to keep the stinging at bay, and he uses the hand he’s got in Kunikida’s stupidly gorgeous hair to tilt his head and pull him even closer.
He hadn’t even let himself hope for this, but now that it’s here, months of repressed wishes come crashing down on him and it’s all he can do to keep himself upright against his desk.
It’s a short kiss, and a few seconds later, Kunikida is pulling back and resting his forehead against Dazai’s. Instead of feeling disappointed, Dazai is grateful for the chance to reboot his vital functions and take in the man who so often succeeded in getting under his skin.
“You’re the most idiotic man I’ve ever met,” Kunikida breathes, and Dazai can’t argue that fact. “Can’t you do anything normally?”
He smiles so wide his cheeks hurt. God, he’s never going to live this down. “Do you really need an answer to that question?”
“No, I don’t,” Kunikida presses a second, gentle kiss to his lips. “Now give me back my hair ties.”
He’s never been happier to oblige a request.