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Nakahara Chuuya was one of the most famous people in the world. Known for his talent in the fashion industry (on top of his charm and stupid good looks, of course), he’s become one of the most influential people in Yokohama, and it certainly didn’t hurt that his husband was a business tycoon worth millions on his own. Together, the pair of them practically ruled over the city—and because they were both just so charming, no one could complain.
“But Comme des Garçons is hoping to meet tomorrow afternoon, so do you need me to reschedule with Ace?”
“Or you could just cancel,” Chuuya grumbled, propping his chin up with one hand and spinning a pen between his fingers with the other. Higuchi chuckled and offered a helpless smile. “Yeah, okay, let’s reschedule with Ace. How’s Wednesday morning?”
“Free until eight-fifteen.”
“Let’s put it down for seven, then. I won’t make you call the bastard yourself—will you remind me before I leave today?”
“Of course, Boss.”
“I keep telling you not to call me that,” Chuuya chuckled, waving a hand. “It’s good to see you, Higuchi. Thanks.”
Higuchi bowed her head with an easy smile. “Of course, Chuuya.”
“Oh,” he blinked, “let me know how that date with Gin goes. She really does like you,” he added with a good-natured smile.
Higuchi’s face immediately flushed beet red and she bowed her head again to try to hide it. “Thank you. I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
Chuuya grinned and waved a hand, turning back to the papers in front of him. “Alright, get out of here. Thanks again, Higuchi.”
Higuchi offered one last smile before exiting the office, shutting the door with a resounding click and leaving Chuuya alone with his thoughts. He frowned at the papers in front of him, still twisting his pen between his fingers as he mused in silence.
Unfortunately, because Chuuya could never catch a break, his silence didn’t last long. The door burst open mere minutes later and Chuuya glanced up to see none other than his husband, Dazai Osamu, standing in the doorway with a wide smile. "Good afternoon, slug," he chirped.
“Hey, asshole. Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“Who could say?” Dazai sauntered toward Chuuya and plopped down on his desk right in front of him, wrapping an arm around Chuuya's shoulders and pulling him closer, to which Chuuya didn’t argue. “I don’t think they’ll miss me, anyway. Kunikida’s meeting with foreign company representatives so there’s no one to berate me for disappearing for a little while.”
Chuuya’s arms found Dazai’s waist almost instinctually and he chuckled. “I feel bad for that poor guy.”
“Chuuya!” Dazai exclaimed, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense. “We’re married! You’re supposed to be on my side.”
Chuuya clicked his tongue. “Yeah? Well, you’re a bastard, so I think I get a free pass.”
“So mean,” Dazai stuck out his lower lip in a childish pout.
“Boo hoo, you big baby.”
Dazai leaned over, absentmindedly fiddling with the hair at Chuuya’s nape. Their noses were nearly touching and Dazai could feel Chuuya’s breath fanning his face. He smelled like autumn and cinnamon. “Hi, chibi,” Dazai murmured.
Chuuya’s smile softened. “Hey.”
But just before they caught each other in a kiss, there was a polite knock on the door and Chuuya sighed, letting his head fall against Dazai's shoulder. "Perfect fucking timing," he grumbled, to which Dazai chuckled faintly. Pulling away, Chuuya shooed Dazai off of his desk and reordered some of the items his husband had shuffled around before shouting an irritable "come in!"
It opened to reveal a young man with reddish hair and a bandage over his nose, hands in his pockets, and a sleek manila folder tucked under his arm. Dazai, from where he sat in the plush chair near the windows that overlooked Yokohama, narrowed his eyes at the earnest look on the man’s face.
Chuuya let out a small sigh and schooled his features into good-natured ease. “Oh, Tachihara.”
The man—Tachihara, apparently—smiled and tossed his hand up in a casual wave. “Yeah, hey Chuuya. We needed to discuss the next shoot?”
Dazai stiffened slightly. Chuuya. Not Boss, not sir, not even Nakahara, but Chuuya. He knew full well of Chuuya’s dislike of people using any titles when addressing him, but even someone close enough to him as Higuchi still uses them from time to time out of respect. Someone like Tachihara (whoever Tachihara even was, because frankly, Dazai knew nothing about him at all), was either new, disgustingly arrogant, or slithered his way into Chuuya’s good graces. Dazai’s frown deepened.
“The lists are here—Higuchi added the data on the company statistics, by the way—but I wanted to touch base on a couple other things.” Tachihara handed Chuuya the folder and Dazai didn’t fail to notice the way their fingertips brushed as Chuuya took the folder. Chuuya didn’t look affected by it, naturally, but Tachihara’s cheeks had turned faintly pink.
Oh?
Chuuya was flipping through the pages when he glanced up and caught Tachihara’s eyes floating over to where Dazai sat, idly looking out the windows and pretending to ignore the both of them. “Oh, right. Tachihara, have you met Osamu?”
Tachihara shook his head vigorously and Chuuya gestured vaguely to Dazai as he turned his attention back to the folder. “This is Tachihara. He’s one of the Black Lizards—they organize most of the shoots for the busier models.”
Dazai didn’t bother to stand, but he reached out a hand and offered a cold, threatening smile disguised with cheer and innocence. “It’s nice to meet you, Tachihara. I’m Dazai Osamu, Chuuya’s husband.” He made sure to emphasize those last two words and from the way Tachihara’s hand grew warm along with his face and ears, Dazai knew he’d done the job well. Tachihara was quick to step back and turn his attention to Chuuya.
“Alright, this is great—thanks, Tachihara. What did you need to talk about?” Chuuya turned his piercing gaze on Tachihara, leaning back in his chair and setting the folder down on his desk.
Dazai saw Tachihara swallow. “Well, ah, I need to give the list of props and other elements for the entire shoot to Hirotsu so he can sort those out. It’s a mafia-themed shoot, right?”
Chuuya groaned at that, pressing his forehead into his hand. “Yeah, it is.”
“I already have the prop firearms listed, but we still need…”
Dazai tuned the rest of Tachihara’s blabbing out and instead honed in on the way he was biting the inside of his cheek, the way he gestured so wildly with his hands, the way his eyes kept flitting over Chuuya’s face and sometimes other places too. It made his jaw go taut and his eyes narrow, seeing Tachihara eye his husband like that. He knew Chuuya was good-looking—everyone did—but there was a difference between admiration and whatever Tachihara was doing. Dazai didn’t like it.
Chuuya was nodding along, looking pretty as ever as he thought about something Tachihara had said before waving a hand and dismissing it. And Dazai was absolutely willing to let it go. He’d turn the other way and ignore Tachihara’s obvious pining (never mind the fact that he’d complain about it to Chuuya when they got home).
But then Tachihara started talking again, and Dazai’s blood began to boil.
Firstly, he’d moved closer to Chuuya, so now he was practically lounging all over his desk, which was a privilege reserved only for Dazai.
Secondly, he kept glancing down at Chuuya’s collarbone, which was exposed thanks to his partially-unbuttoned shirt—and Dazai would be willing to excuse such a thing if it only happened once or twice, but it was every other second that Dazai would watch Tachihara’s gaze flit down below Chuuya’s neck, and that made him grind his teeth.
Thirdly, he kept making comments. Comments about how nice Chuuya looked today, how pretty his hair was, how they should go out for dinner to discuss their business talk further. It was like asking him out on a date—Dazai’s husband.
And because Dazai would have none of that, he stood up and made his way behind Chuuya, leaning over to bring his hand up toward Dazai’s face. He began pressing gentle kisses to the top of Chuuya’s hand, his fingers, the inside of his wrist.
Chuuya paused his conversation and furrowed his brows, twisting to toss Dazai a confused look. Dazai, of course, only blinked back innocently and the pair seemed to have a silent discussion purely in eye contact before Chuuya sighed a long-suffering sigh and turned back to Tachihara. He was used to Dazai’s clinginess and spontaneous shows of affection, so Chuuya wrote it off as any other instance of this. Tachihara, on the other hand, kept nervously flitting his gaze toward Dazai as he kept talking, and Dazai kept his gaze trained on him with the smallest self-satisfactory smile.
“Are you sure? That might be cutting it a little too close.”
“It’ll work out,” Chuuya waved a nonchalant hand. “I can manage it all just fine.”
“You’re really sure? I don’t think—”
“I think you should heed your boss when he makes a decision,” Dazai butted in smoothly, meeting Tachihara’s eyes with a cool stare. “What do you think, Tachihara?”
Tachihara visibly gulped and clasped his hands together. “Ah—yes, I—yes, you’re right. My apologies, Chuuya,” he bowed his head, but Chuuya only waved him off with a light chuckle.
“Hey, don’t let this asshole intimidate you, Tachihara. It’s fine.”
Dazai stared Tachihara down as he straightened and bobbed his head. “Right. Um, so, we still have to talk to Akutagawa about accompanying you for some of the shots, but besides him, I think the general consensus was that Gin and I would step in for a couple shots if that’s alright.”
Chuuya nodded, smiling that easy, good-natured smile that immediately made people’s muscles relax and their minds quiet. Dazai narrowed his eyes. “Sounds good. I’m surprised Gin’s willing to do that, though—you’ll have to thank her for me the next time you see her.”
Tachihara chuckled. “Of course. Actually, speaking of Gin, she suggested that we add some kind of flowers into the mix to keep things from feeling too unfamiliar and abstract—any preference for those?”
Chuuya frowned in thought for a few moments, chewing on his bottom lip absentmindedly. Dazai didn’t fail to notice the way Tachihara glanced down at that.
“How about red camellias?” Dazai hummed, leaning back against the desk so he was facing the windows and could give his eyes a rest. Any more minutes spent looking at Tachihara and he thought he might strangle him.
Chuuya’s knowing smile was worth it, though. “Yeah, let’s do that.” He held Dazai’s gaze for the briefest extra moment before turning back to Tachihara with a warm smile. “You got that, Tachihara?”
“Yep.” Tachihara slipped his phone back into his pocket with a warm smile. “Hey, this has been nice, Chuuya. We should grab some food some time to talk more about all this. Are you free this weekend?”
Enough. Dazai had seen enough, heard enough. With a characteristic smirk, he draped his arms over Chuuya’s neck and shoulders from behind, laying his head on Chuuya’s shoulder and pressing a few chaste kisses to the pale column of his neck. Chuuya’s shiver was so slight that he barely noticed it, but Dazai was sure that Tachihara noticed the way Chuuya leaned back into the touch and reached up to card a gentle hand through his hair. “Chuuya,” he whined, puckering his lower lip in a pout. “I’m hungry. Can we go get crab?”
Chuuya scowled at that. “Absolutely not, bastard. I’m not going to let you eat that shit—do you know how terrible it is for your immune system? I’ll make you crab if that’s what you want.”
Dazai hummed and reached up to gently turn Chuuya’s head toward him before capturing his lips in a slow, sweet kiss. Chuuya apparently forgot about their guest, because he only moved the hand in Dazai’s hair to his nape, and the pair stayed that way for much longer than Tachihara was hoping.
When Chuuya pulled away, though, he pushed Dazai off of him with a good-natured eye roll and a frown. “Whiny mackerel,” he sighed. “You’re spoiled.”
“Hm, maybe. But Chuuya’s the one who spoils me, so that’s your fault.”
“No, you’re just annoying as fuck when you want something,” was the immediate reply before Chuuya turned to Tachihara, who looked slightly more pallid than before. “Anything else? I don’t want to keep for you too long.”
Tachihara shook his head vigorously. “No, that’s all. I’ll discuss all of this with Gin so she can make any necessary changes?” A nod from Chuuya, who stood up to gather a few papers to hand to Tachihara. “Right, then I’ll get going. It was nice to meet you, Dazai.” Tachihara bowed his head before turning on his heel, tossing one last glance back at Chuuya. “I’ll see you next Thursday, Chuuya.” And then he was gone, vanishing behind the door and leaving Dazai and Chuuya to themselves.
Immediately after the door shut, Chuuya spun on his heel to face Dazai, who was wearing a smug smile with his hands shoved into his pockets. “What was that about?”
Dazai feigned innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, chibi.”
Chuuya rolled his eyes again. “Did Tachihara do something to piss you off or what?”
They stared at each other for a few minutes, silently daring the other to crack, when Dazai finally let out a long sigh and leaned against the wall. “He was flirting with you! I couldn’t just sit back and let that happen.”
Chuuya frowned. “You didn’t need to get so handsy about it. It’s not like he was hurting anyone.”
“He kept eyeing you like some kind of prized animal,” Dazai huffed.
“Oh, cut it out. He was not,” Chuuya scoffed, approaching Dazai with a scowl. “You’re just a possessive bastard.”
Dazai only arched a brow, reaching out to wrap his arms around Chuuya’s waist. “No one gets to flirt with Chuuya. That’s a privilege reserved only for me,” he murmured.
Chuuya snorted, but he was smiling as he twined his arms around Dazai’s neck, fiddling with the hair at his nape. “Possessive bastard,” he repeated, leaning forward and capturing Dazai’s lips in a kiss. Dazai hummed, tightening his hold on Chuuya as their lips slotted together in an easy, unhurried rhythm. Chuuya nibbled on Dazai’s bottom lip and he sighed, pulling Chuuya closer until they were pressed flush against each other. They stayed like that for a long time, intertwined against the glittering expanse of Yokohama below them, and in that moment, Dazai couldn’t help but savor the fact that Nakahara Chuuya, one of the most charming, most beautiful, most desirable people in the world, belonged to him.