Work Text:
"Ango is acting weird lately," Dazai announced one Saturday morning. He sipped his orange juice like a protagonist taking a thoughtful swig of their whiskey. "More than usual, I mean."
Sakura, sitting next to Dazai on the table, looked up from the book they had been sharing. It was relatively early for a weekend day, and the rest of the kids were peacefully sleeping upstairs. Just like Sakura did, Oda looked up from his laptop, and tilted his head in question.
"Is Ango-san alright?" Sakura asked.
"Hmm, probably?" He absentmindedly turned the page.
"Ah, I was still reading—"
"He's spacey all the time. And clumsy."
All interest in the book gone, Sakura blinked owlishly. She pressed closer to Dazai, and lowered her voice as she spoke.
"Do you think he's sick?"
"Ango isn't an idiot, so I guess he could get a cold." After a beat, Dazai shook his head. "He isn't coughing, though."
"Do you have to be coughing to have a cold?"
At the question, both kids turned to Oda, waiting for his input. He measured his words for a moment.
"Not necessarily. It could still be a cold." He thought back to the last time they had seen each other two days ago, when Ango had come over to drop off Dazai before leaving on a business trip. His temperature wasn't any higher than normal when Oda held him by the waist. "But I don't think that's the issue," he concluded.
"Right, I don't think so either. He just looked tired." Dazai huffed. "Odasaku, you have to tie him to the bed to force him to sleep!"
His eyebrows climbed a few inches. It was a good thing Ango wasn't here to hear that particular choice of words. Now if only he knew where Dazai had heard that particular phrasing before… Oda eyed the book the kids were sharing, relieved to see it was an age-appropriate one he had personally picked for Dazai last week.
"Did he look tired to you?"
Sakura shrugged. "Ango-san is always tired anyways."
They looked at each other for a moment, and all three of them wordlessly agreed with the point.
"I'll try talking to him," Oda decided. It wouldn't be good to worry the kids further, and he was well aware of his partner's bad habits when it came to his own health.
"Thanks, Odasaku."
"Thank you, papa."
Easily appeased, the duo went back to their book—but not without squabbling over the reading speed, Sakura fighting to take over page turning duty. While watching them from the corner of his eyes to make sure the argument wouldn't escalate, Oda shot Ango a quick text.
> how's work?
He waited for five seconds, just on the off chance that Ango might reply quickly. Then, he shut off his phone and went back to typing on his laptop.
*
At three in the afternoon, his phone buzzed. Oda almost missed the faint noise, immersed on the paragraph he was close to finishing. That was, until Dazai came rushing into his side to peer at the phone and prod at the screen.
"Was that Ango?" He asked.
The screen lighting up to reveal Ango's name in his notifications answered the question before Oda even processed what was happening. While his own kids stayed away from Oda's devices unless given express permission to use them, Dazai had a habit of taking Ango's phone whenever he wasn't looking—which Oda had to wonder if it wasn't from years of being lenient with Dazai behind Ango's back. Maybe he should reprimand him this time…?
Dazai looked up at him with big curious eyes. His hands were sticky and his mouth messily dyed red from the ice cream he had been eating.
Oda picked up the phone without a word.
> It certainly is going somewhere.
> are you alright?
The reply was seen immediately upon arrival, and the bubble indicating Ango was typing popped up at the corner. There, it stayed for a minute, then another. Rather than an answer from Ango, his phone buzzed with a text from another person.
> Boss has been trying to type "I'm doing okay, what about you?" this entire time.
> [file attached]
He wasn't sure when the young reporter working under Ango got his number, but Murakoso had no qualms in sending a picture of herself doing a peace sign, with Ango in the background with his hair drenched and sticking to his forehead, one hand hang tugging at his collar, and the other in the middle of typing on his phone.
Soon after, she sent another text:
> Who thought it was a good idea to let him work under this heat?
Oda glanced at the bottom of his laptop screen, which cheerfully informed him the temperature for today was at a whooping 40°c. It was hard to believe the number from inside his air conditioned haven, so Oda walked over to the nearest window and opened it. The heat that assaulted him was enough to draw tears to his eyes.
After hurriedly closing the window again, he tapped back to his conversation with Ango while frowning.
> you should get some rest. and drink water.
> I'll be alright. Thank you.
Years of knowing Ango had acclimated Oda to his specific brand of evasion. As far as Ango was concerned, that text might as well just outright say "I won't, but thank you for the suggestion." He sighed and messaged Murakoso instead.
> keep an eye on him.
> On it, boss's boss!
With that out of the way, Oda set his phone down and was just about to go back to writing, when he caught Dazai's eyes.
"So his brain is frying inside his skull like an egg, huh?" He mused. Dazai must have seen the picture, if not the rest of the conversation.
"Something like that."
"Odasaku, give me some money," Dazai demanded confidently. "I'm gonna buy some ice cream for Ango, so he can eat it when he gets back."
The nearest convenience store was just around the corner. He didn't see why not.
"Take someone with you."
"'Kay!"
Like a whirlwind, Dazai had left and quickly took hold of Shinji and Kousuke (the ones nearby and therefore the easiest targets) before leaving the house with a bang on the door.
At least their question had been answered, Oda supposed, cursor blinking on the sentence he left unfinished. He would trust Ango's subordinates to take care of his stubborn, workaholic lover in the meantime.
*
In about twelve hours, Ango would be home. Oda tried not to count the minutes as they passed, and the chapter he had steadily worked on was now completely halted. The words don't come to mind. He glanced at the clock again.
After awhile of this, Oda turned off his laptop and wondered if it was normal to miss someone after only two days.
*
"Any particular reason why you've been working overtime?" Oda asked Sunday morning, once Ango had returned and it was just the two of them under the parasol.
Well, the two of them plus a sleeping Dazai in Ango's arms. Ango was rocking him gently, every so often adjusting his grip on the boy's body. Dazai was getting too old to be carried, and that fact showed in how Ango winced a little while tightly holding him so his grip wouldn't slip. Despite that, he didn't voice any complaints.
"What do you mean?"
Ango didn't look away from his careful inspection of the children's activities by the sea, waves crashing on their feet as they played. His eyebrow twitched every time one of them fell over after being shoved; the sound of their laughs was probably the only thing keeping him from doing something about their roughhousing.
"You've been better at not being too absent unless it really can't be helped."
Ango's expression faltered, a subtle twitch of his cheek before his mouth curled down into a frown. He checked the boy in his arms to verify his slumbering state, then said, "Was Dazai upset?"
Oda shook his head. "No."
Dazai was a smart kid—sometimes, too smart—and he understood when Ango needed to be away for work. But more importantly, he was still a nine years old child and therefore easy to please. He watched the way Dazai slept with his head pillowed on Ango's shoulder, clinging to him without a care in the world. If he had secretly harbored any anxiety over Ango's sudden business trip, it was long forgotten by now.
While he had been busy looking at Dazai, Ango studied him instead.
"...Were you upset?" He mused, not in guilt or anxiety, but as someone trying to figure out where the conversation was going.
"It was only three days," Oda said, as if he hadn't felt uncharacteristically bereft as he typed away on his laptop, unable to call on Ango and ask if his word choice felt off. "I'm just curious why this time was an exception. Was it a time sensitive report?"
Ango hummed under his throat. "Moderately so. It could've waited for another week or two, but I decided it was better to get the interviews done sooner rather than later."
"Oh?"
"I'll be taking a few days off soon, after all."
At the unexpected words, Oda blinked. Ango had finally looked away from the kids so he could faintly smile at him instead, a cryptic and mirthful glint in his eyes. If he looked closely, Oda could see the burn on Ango's cheekbones, almost hidden by the shade of his summer hat. Sweat was running down his neck, eyes slightly bloodshot. He seemed tired, just as he did when he got home a few hours ago and, without missing a beat, got ready for their trip to the beach. Oda remembered Murakoso's message, sent late in the evening the previous day:
> Boss got heat exhaustion ://
He remembered Dazai telling him Ango had been acting weird, almost as if sick. Pushing his limits for some vacation days, although he usually never took those unless forced to do so.
"Why now?" Oda asked, confused.
Rather than replying, Ango posed his own question, "Odasaku-san, how is your novel coming along?"
Living with five children had long desensitized him to sudden topic changes. And if there was something Ango wished to say, he'd make his point, eventually.
"I'm working on the last two chapters. It should be done in a few days. Why do you ask?"
"Would you let me read it, then? Once it's done."
"If you don't mind reading the first draft before it goes through my editor…"
"Of course I don't, I'll gladly read it." Ango's voice was soft as he said it, almost sweet—overwhelming in its taste, coming from someone usually so reserved with his affection. He laughed, quiet and intimate. "Good thing I'll soon be on a vacation, it seems I have the free time to enjoy your book after all."
And that was the final puzzle piece in this picture. It was such a simple thing, similar to the reason why Ango had come to the beach when he had already been close to collapsing from the heat just yesterday. He did it for Dazai, who had been happily attached to him the entire morning.
And he worked to get his obligations dealt with so he could go on vacation, all because two weeks ago Oda had mentioned he would be finishing his book soon.
"Odasaku-san?"
"We should get married."
They stared at each other. Oda's words slowly caught up to him.
"I don't have a ring," he realized. "And it doesn't have to be now. But, someday, if you want—"
"Odasaku-san."
Ango's shoulders were shaking. Oda concocted an apology, an excuse, anything to calm him down, but the words died on his tongue when he heard Ango. He was laughing, little giggles escaping him despite his best efforts to keep it contained.
"If you saw your expression," he muttered, voice coming out high pitched. "My apologies, I didn't mean to—"
Ango breathed in deeply until his laugh subsided. Then, doing a balance act as to not drop Dazai as he leaned down, he left a brief, sweet kiss on Oda's forehead.
"Did you really think I'd say no?"
Oda didn't get to admire the way Ango's eyes twinkled, or how his hair swayed in the ocean breeze. He didn't even get to marvel over the fact that his impromptu proposal was successful, startled out of his reverie by Ango's yelp when the lump in his arm jumped to the ground and broke into a sprint.
"Ango and Odasaku are getting married!" Dazai announced for the whole world to hear.
It was a good thing no one was around to hear him—if the flush appearing on Ango's ears was anything to go by, he thought the same thing. They glanced at each other, sharing a private smile before they were interrupted by six small bodies and a lot of noise.
He should hurry up and finish his book, Oda thought. After all, he'd be busy planning a wedding soon.