Work Text:
In the two weeks since Dazai had become his partner, Kunikida had pried him away from fifteen innocent ladies-- and counting. He was keeping track, neat tallies all in a row, filling out the back page of his notebook, and with a clenched jaw he draws a careful sixteenth line down the edge of the paper.
“This has to stop,” He says, watching the poor woman scurry away.
“He’s not hurting anyone,” Yosano says with a shrug, “Let him cook.”
Setting his notebook on the table, Kunikida wheels a glare on her. “Do not encourage this kind of behaviour.” They’re at one of the cheaper restaurants in the vicinity of the office-- only because Dazai’s paying-- and Kunikida almost feels bad his coworker had scared off a prospective customer for the poor shopkeeper, but then his sympathy gets sidetracked by a fresh wave of irritation as Dazai knocks over a glass of water, nearly dousing his notebook.
“Can you behave like an upstanding citizen for half a minute?” He grumbles, sopping up water and ice alike with a napkin as Dazai watches unhelpfully.
“Not really.”
“Well, can you at least keep your antics to your own coworkers, and not innocent bystanders?”
“Just because Dazai does better with women than you do,” Yosano points out, nudging him with one elbow, “Doesn’t mean you have to be a dick.”
“ Does better with women? She practically ran away screaming!”
Yosano only laughs, shaking her head. “He goes after what he wants, and I respect that. If what he wants is a double suicide, I don’t see why he can’t be allowed to try. ”
Kunikida sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Kunikida-kun’s a prude,” Dazai says flippantly, “I doubt he thinks about that sort of thing.”
Feeling his eye twitch, the blond grounds out, “I simply don’t waste my time chatting up every broad who walks by.”
To his utter dismay, Dazai only turns a cheeky grin on him. “Jealous?”
“Yeah, maybe you could take a page out of Dazai’s book,” Yosano offers. “What kind of woman are you looking for, Kunikida? We’ll be your wingmen.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Boo,” Dazai whines, flopping forward onto the damp table. “You’re no fun.”
“I am not trying to be.”
“C’mon, what’s your dream girl like?” Yosano prods, leaning over into his space.
Pushing at her shoulder, he grunts, “This is not an appropriate topic for a work lunch.”
“I bet you don’t even know, do you?”
Kunikida says nothing. Dazai snorts. “Aww, he really is a prude.”
“I’m not a prude ,” Kunikida insists, watching as Dazai licks a piece of rice from the end of one chopstick before averting his eyes. “I just have more important things to think about.”
------
More important things become less important the more he dwells on their conversation. Sitting at his low table in his dorm, Kunikida finds himself staring at a blank notebook page.
What does he look for in a partner? It’s not something he’s thought much on, only ever having passing thoughts on the matter. Now, he finds he doesn’t even know where to start. Sighing, he settles on starting with the easy parts-- the physical.
He’s always been partial to a slimmer build, he muses, staring down at the page. He’s not much into large breasts-- whatever will do. In fact, he’d prefer a flatter chest. He jots that down. Not too short, though not taller than him-- just a touch below his own height would suffice. Strong, but not excessively or brutishly so-- muscular enough to hold their own in a fight, but not so bulky he feels he’s sleeping beside a rock.
Hair-- darker hair is for the best, most likely. For health reasons, he tells himself as he writes it down, slowly and carefully. Thick, healthy dark hair, resilient against the sun. Yes, that’s it. Perhaps curly-- not too much, easily manageable. This isn’t so hard, not if he takes it one piece at a time. Nodding to himself, he pauses to think over eyes.
Maybe the most important physical feature. Kunikida doesn’t often think about his own eyes, but instead finds himself scrutinizing the details of others’ around him. With eyes comes personality . What kind of person would Kunikida want to spend the rest of his life with? Someone who could appreciate the levity of certain situations, but not someone too serious-- he knows himself well enough to understand they would clash. So, he thinks, tapping his pen against the edge of the paper, someone with a certain level of playfulness, but who knew when to get serious.
Funny-- they’d have to be funny, because Kunikida certainly wasn’t going to be the entertainer of the two. Kind enough, he supposes. Kindness is not as important to him so long as they understand what needs to be done. He thinks for a moment that that could be considered shrewd of him, but writes it down meticulously anyway.
Humming and leaning back in his seat, Kunikida lets his eyes drift over the apartment. Ah. Cooking. Kunikida has that handled, so that’s not a requirement-- in fact, he’d like it if he were to retain that responsibility, as well as the cleaning. This person would have to respect his processes, his ways of doing things, and not interfere. Too much-- he’s willing to compromise on some aspects. He wouldn’t mind someone else’s belongings joining his own in the dorm, or someone in his bed in the mornings. Almost embarrassed, though he’s alone, he stops to consider-- maybe someone a touch clingy. It might be reassuring to know that they needed him, wanted him. Looking foolishly around the apartment, he shyly adds that to the list before clearing his throat.
Occupation. Yes. That is something important-- not only must they share vaguely similar enough ideals as he has, but he’d prefer to have a partner who understands the importance of his work, can appreciate it the way he does. A similar occupation would be best, he decides easily, pen moving steadily across the paper.
His mind returns to the thought of waking up beside someone. He’d like someone he could easily hold, who would let him. Someone with clever fingers and a cleverer mouth, he thinks, pen halting on the page as he turns it over in his mind. A good lover, then. Experienced?
Kunikida shakes his head. That doesn’t matter. They only had to be compatible. The rest would come, he reminds himself, tapping the pen against the page as he reads over the list.
“Kunikida’s a prude .” The words echo infuriatingly in his mind.
A good lover, then, yes. Letting his pen come to the paper again, he thinks it over carefully, imagining just what that would entail. Thoughtfully, cheeks heating slightly, he begins to write, sparing no detail.
-----
“You left this on your desk.”
Kunikida looks up from the papers in his hand, eyebrows knitting. Ranpo’s holding out his notebook from one end, the pages falling open uselessly. “...Yes, because that’s where it goes.”
Ranpo shrugs. “Free real estate, if you ask me. I couldn’t help but notice a new entry.”
“Notice? It was closed. In a drawer. A locked drawer.”
“I was looking at this peculiar list of yours,” Ranpo says, ignoring him, “And I couldn’t help but realize something.”
“Of course you couldn’t,” Kunikida grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest, careful not to crease the papers in his hand. They’re along one wall of the Agency, Yosnao and Dazai chattering about something near the doorway, across the room and not close enough to hear them. Ranpo grins at him cheekily.
“This description of yours is certainly imaginative, but setting aside the more lewd aspects-” Kunikida flushes. “- This list of traits seems awfully familiar, don’t you think?”
Kunikida blinks at him. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Just a bit shorter than you, slim, curly, dark hair,” Ranpo lists off, poking out his finger as he rattles them off without even glancing abc at the pages, “Serious when required, but playful and funny enough the rest of the time, won’t hijack your chores. Clingy, a similar job title… Doesn’t ring a bell? Really?”
Shaking his head, Kunikida squints at the detective.
“Kunikida, that’s basically Dazai. No, not basically-- you’re just describing Dazai.”
For a moment, Kunikida doesn’t reply. Mind coming to a halt, he lets his eyes find Dazai across the room. He is just a bit taller than the brunet, that much is true. And-- yes, Dazai can be playful and goofy, but has a seriousness lurking beneath that makes him a good detective and a good partner. Still, that’s not enough to say that- Well. He’s clingy, yes. And he has beautiful dark hair and big doe eyes and the prettiest pink lips Kunikida’s ever seen, and he makes Kunikida laugh-
“No.”
Ranpo holds the notebook out to him expectantly. “Yes, actually.”
“ No. Absolutely not.”
Without an ounce of sympathy, Ranpo waves the notebook pointedly until Kunikida gets the message and takes it from him. “I’m just saying,” He says, waving one hand, “It’s awfully suspicious.”
“But- it’s Dazai, ” Kunikida says with a note of disgust.
“Someone say my name?” Dazai calls from across the room.
“ No, ” Kunikida says quickly, at the same time Ranpo says cheerily, “Yes.”
To Kunikida’s horror, Dazai comes bounding over with an excited bounce in his step. “Talking shit about me, Kunikida-kun?”
He’s grinning up at Kunikida, eyes sparkling, and Kunikida feels like tearing his hair out as he feels his face heat. This is the worst day of his life. “No, Dazai. Get back to work.”
“Aww, you really are no fun. C’mon. Penny for your thoughts?”
He has the audacity to pout at him then, and Kunikida is well and truly fucked, he thinks, eyes flickering down to those plump lips.
“... Kunikida-kun?”
“Er- I said get back to work. I mean it, Dazai.”
Seemingly picking up on his foul mood, Dazai does actually listen to him, frowning before turning on his heel and heading back to his desk. Watching Dazai fall into his seat, curls bouncing slightly with the movement, dainty hands reaching up to push his bangs out of his eyes, Kunikida thinks again that he is well and truly fucked.