Archive of Our Own

"If that's how you really feel, then fine! Just get out of here!"

With a harsh shove, Atsushi was out of the apartment. The door was slammed before he even had the chance to turn around. So now, the young man is left in the empty hallway with nothing but his thoughts and the sound of his own heavy breaths. It's taking everything in him to not scream out in frustration. Gods, he doesn't even remember what they were fighting about in the first place! It probably started with something stupid—it always does. Things just get so out of hand when it comes to the two of them. Why can't they handle these things like adults?

Atsushi takes another minute or so to gather his thoughts. He could easily get back (read: break) into the apartment, but this is a Port Mafia owned complex. As a detective for the agency, using force is not a good idea, especially with both of them wired up like this. He'd hate to say it, but the best thing to do right now is to leave it until tomorrow. Because even if he did manage to get back in, he doesn't have nearly enough strength or patience to deal with this any longer. 

As the young man all but storms down the hall, he fails to notice that a new presence has joined him. He collides head-on into the newcomer, and even though it's his own fault, it worsens his mood significantly. He can feel his lips curl into something almost animalistic, like Byakko has taken control just for that moment. He doesn't like when the tiger makes unexpected appearances like this, but Atsushi guesses he could let it slide just this once since no one is in immediate danger because of it.

"Hey, watch—!" Atsushi snarls out, but the complaint dies instantly on his tongue and all the blood drains from his face. "... it."

There, in all his glory, is the gravity manipulating executive: Chuuya Nakahara. He's in his typical attire, save for his long coat and Bolero jacket. The sleeves of his white dress shirt are rolled up neatly at his elbows, and the top button is undone. His hair is pulled into a loose ponytail near the nape of his neck. Though he's casual now, Atsushi isn't fooled. He knows that this man could snap him in two with ease. With that being said, Atsushi doesn't think anything bad will result from this encounter. The mafia and the ADA are on a temporary ceasefire, and the young man doesn't have any particularly negative feelings toward the gravity user. But it's still a good idea to exercise caution.  

"Ah, so the weretiger does have claws," Chuuya smirks up at him. Despite being a few inches taller than the other, Atsushi can't help but shrink under the executive's gaze. Small taunting like this always manages to get under his skin. "Relax, I'm off the clock. I won't hurt you unless I have to."

That's... not as comforting as he probably wanted it to sound, but Atsushi won't look a gift horse in the mouth. Chuuya's eyes drift from his face to the door to Ryuu's apartment down the hall, and it seems like he's made the connection.

"Trouble in paradise?" He asks with a raised eyebrow. Chuuya's not surprised in the slightest. Ryuunosuke has always had a short fuse. He can go from 0 to 100 in a split second. It's no wonder why he's known as the Port Mafia's rabid dog. And Atsushi, though he's the second sweetest ability user in the Agency—no one will ever be more pleasant than that Kenji kid—he can sure put up a fight when he wants to. The young detective doesn't take people's shit, especially not Akutagawa's, like he used to. He's grown a backbone, and Chuuya couldn't be more pleased.

"I..." Atsushi swallows thickly. He's not sure if he really wants to spill his relationship problems to Chuuya right now, so he settles for something vague. "It'll be fine after a few hours. I'll come back after he's cooled off a bit."

Chuuya barks out a laugh at that. "And what are you going to do in the meantime, hmm? Mope around until you think he's ready?" Atsushi didn't have anything smart to say to that. He wasn't going to mope around , as Chuuya so kindly put it, but he certainly wasn't going to be happy about the situation. The detective probably would have thrown himself into his work while he waited. When it was apparent that the young man wasn't going to contradict him, Chuuya continued. "No man is worth this much trouble. Why don't we go out and do something fun to get your mind off things?"

...

Chuuya looks at him expectantly. Oh, he's serious.

"'We'?? I— Right now?! Weren't you about to go do something??" Atsushi looks around for any kind of help despite being one of the only two people in the vicinity. 

"Well, I mean, I was going to give Akutagawa something, but you said he was in a bad mood so I'll leave it until tomorrow." Chuuya shrugs. That sounds so irresponsible... But maybe that was just Kunikida's influence on him. "Don't give me that look. It's nothing urgent."

"Well... If you're sure." Maybe hanging out with Chuuya wouldn't be so bad. It could help strengthen the ties between the ADA and Port Mafia. Though, on a more personal level, Atsushi has always wondered what Chuuya was actually like. Yes, he's seen him in battle. Yes, Dazai talks about him a lot during work, but neither of those things really tell him anything about the executive.

"Of course, I'm sure." Chuuya's confidence when he speaks is enough to wear down Atsushi's resolve. Some might call him weak-willed, but he'd like to think of it as picking and choosing his battles... or something like that. The mafioso seems to sense the weretiger's change of heart and grins. "I know exactly where we're going. If you hate it, we can leave and try a different place."

"Hey, Chuuya," Atsushi glances around at the other people around them. It's nearly midnight, and there's already a sizable crowd waiting to get in. The young detective has to stand close behind Chuuya so they don't get separated. Atsushi fiddles with the hem of the loose, cropped sweater Chuuya let him borrow. The body of the sweater was a deep, forest green, while the sleeves were a light cream color. The mafioso also let him wear one of his chokers just for tonight. Atsushi wasn't quite so sure if he liked the look, but Chuuya said he looked fine. Atsushi doesn't know enough about style, so he'll trust Chuuya this time. "Are you sure it's ok to do this?"

"Don't sweat it, kid." Chuuya doesn't spare him a glance at all and keeps moving with the line. Tonight, Chuuya is wearing a wine red dress shirt and a pair of black jeans. The red looks good on him. It contrasts nicely with his pale skin. "It's not cheating if nothing happens. You're just out to have a little fun."

"I— That's not—! I know it's not cheating!" Atsushi sputters, his face going red. That was definitely not where he was going with this! "I just meant it's the middle of the week. Don't we both have work tomorrow morning?"

"I'm an executive. I can basically do whatever the hell I want." Chuuya flashes the bouncer his ID and is let through with no issues. Whether that's because of his valid ID or his known status as a high ranking officer in the mafia is up for interpretation. Atsushi on the other hand has a few more problems. When Chuuya offered to bring him to the club, he was skeptical. He's not old enough to drink, and even if he was, he certainly didn't look of age, either. There's no way that any sane person with working eyes would let him in. The bouncer looks straight into his eyes as if to ask 'Do you think I'm stupid?' Oh god, this isn't going to work out. What will the president think?? 

Before he can even begin to spiral, Chuuya drapes an arm over his shoulder, pulling him in close. A small squeak escapes his mouth as pressed up against the executive. "He's with me."

The bouncer shows no reaction to what Chuuya just said. He stares blankly at the two for a moment—It was way too long if you asked Atsushi—before sighing and moving out of their way. Now, that was definitely because of Chuuya's title as an executive. There's no way that bouncer would have let him in if the redhead wasn't here with him. He might have to bring this up sometime at work. But for now, it will be pushed into the corner of his brain where it will remain forgotten for at least a week—no, 3 weeks is more like it.

When the pair enter, Atsushi is instantly hit with the sound of heavy music. How in the world is anyone supposed to talk in here? He can feel each beat reverberate in his skull, down to his toes. In the fluorescent neon lighting, he can see people— a lot of them —in various stages of intoxication. The night is still young, so most have probably only had a few drinks by now. But there are a few that are clearly physically affected by alcohol. 

"Ah, anyway what was I saying before that?" Chuuya doesn't seem to have any difficulty communicating, but then again, he's more used to this kind of atmosphere than Atsushi is.

Oh, what were they talking about? It's so loud in here that Atsushi can barely think. The damn tiger's hearing... It feels like a curse right now. Byakko huffs indignantly in the back of his mind. It takes a moment for him to remember. "You can do anything you want?" 

"That's right." Chuuya searches for a good place to sit, using gravity to his advantage by looking over the heads of the taller patrons. Once he's found a suitable space, he grabs Atsushi by the wrist to make sure the younger one doesn't get lost in the crowd, and leads the way. "There aren't any pressing concerns right now, so unless Mori needs me for something personal, I won't be going into work tomorrow."

Atsushi shows a little more resistance at this. He practically digs his heels into the floor to stop, and thankfully, Chuuya lets him. "Well, that's great for you but I still have to go in. Kunikida will have my head if I don't show up."

Well, maybe that was an over-exaggeration, but Kunikida would not be pleased if he skipped work just because he stayed out too late. Atsushi doesn't want to even imagine how that phone call would play out. He'd get the "Dazai Treatment" and that's worse than any other workplace punishment. Kunikida has expectations for him, and as his junior, Atsushi can't let him down.

"So, just say you're sick." Chuuya replies unhelpfully. If he said he's sick, then surely they'd send Yosano to check on him and then he'd really be in trouble. The doctor is a scary woman, and Atsushi doesn't want her to catch him in a lie, especially not this one...That would be so embarrassing.

"Atsushi, you do twice the amount of work you're supposed to because I know Dazai isn't doing his own work. You can take a day off once in a while." Well... When he puts it like that, then he's right. Dazai is lazy through and through when it comes to office work. The man is exceptional on the field, but it's torture to try to get him to sit down and actually do paperwork. He wants to agree with Chuuya—he really does—but it doesn't feel right to take a day off for something as silly as this. Before the detective can say anything else on the matter, he feels his flip phone buzz. It's faint, so faint that he almost misses it, but there nonetheless.

"I—Hold on, I have to take this." Chuuya looks like he wants to continue arguing, but he holds his tongue, allowing the weretiger to take the call. Atsushi doesn't look at who's calling before he answers. "Hello?"

"Atsushi, where are you?" A gruff voice asks. Even with the thumping music, the detective can recognize the voice on the other end of the receiver. He doesn’t sound mad anymore, so that’s good. Atsushi can’t quite discern what he sounds like. But if Akutagawa isn’t mad anymore, then that’s a win in his book.

"Ah, Ryuu!" Atsushi all but shouts into the receiver. He can imagine Ryuunosuke recoiling on the other end. He’ll apologize for that later. "It's kind of loud in here. Could I call you back later?"

There is a long pause on the other end. Atsushi doesn’t like the sound of silence. Sometimes it’s worse than the yelling because he can never tell what will happen next. "Yes. Call me back as soon as you get somewhere quieter." Akutagawa hangs up without another word.

Atsushi’s eyes widened in surprise. That was weirdly easy… He checks the screen just to make sure that Ryuu has actually hung up. When there’s no sign of the mafioso on the other end, he flicks his phone shut in a quick motion, its click goes unheard over the pounding music.  "I'm sorry, Chuuya-San. Could you give me a minute? I need to—"

"No, I will not give you a minute." Chuuya snatches the phone from the detective's hand and pockets it. "He can grovel some other time. But right now, you and I are gonna have a fun fucking time whether he likes it or not. If he cares, then he can wait."

Well, he doesn’t want to leave him hanging for too long… Then he might really get mad. Before he’s even realized it, Atsushi has already given in. "I guess you're right. But can I at least have my phone back in case something pops up?"

Chuuya gives him a look that says " Seriously?" but he eventually relents, handing over the small flip phone back to its owner. Atsushi slides it into the back pocket of the jeans gratefully. He knows that he's supposed to be taking it easy tonight, but he just feels better knowing it's on his person. Atsushi doesn't think anything work-related will arise, but there's no harm in being prepared.

They just sat down but Chuuya is already ordering a drink. Atsushi isn’t really surprised. Dazai has mentioned that the man is quite the connoisseur of alcohol, and after every joint mission he offers to take all the adults to go drink (except for Dazai). 

“‘Scuse me, could I get one Old Fashioned and, uh,” Chuuya’s looking at him. Why is Chuuya looking at him? “What do you want, kid?”

“I–uh, I don’t want anything.” Atsushi says nervously, fidgeting with the edge of his sleeves. What does the executive think he’s doing?! Atsushi can’t drink! Imagine the scolding he would get if Kunikida found out. He would rather die than disappoint that man. It’s like disappointing your mother–at least, Atsushi thinks that’s what it would be like. He doesn’t have one, so he wouldn’t know. 

“Erm, and a Paloma for him.” Chuuya finishes. The barkeep nods in acknowledgement and gets their drinks ready. She moves with practiced expertise, carefully measuring and pouring the different liquids. The mafioso can feel the glare that Atsushi is sending his way. “Relax. It’s like a, uh, fruity little soda. It doesn’t even have that much alcohol, so you’ll be fine. And if anything, you’re with me. I’m like your chaperone for the night.”

The detective deflates as he sighs. “... Fine… I’ll make sure to pay you back after this.” It’s the least he can do since Chuuya’s taken the time to bring him out here and try to distract him for a while. 

“Don’t sweat it, kid.” The executive rolls up his sleeves to his elbows before resting his forearms on the bar. Atsushi’s hands are sitting carefully in his lap now, but he’ll remember to do that when he changes positions, so he doesn’t get Chuuya’s clothes dirty. “I have more money than I could possibly need in this lifetime. The drinks are on me. Indefinitely.”

“Indefinitely? ” The weretiger sputters. “That’s a little much don’t you think?”

“The drinks don’t really put a dent in my bank account.” Chuuya shrugs. “Just enjoy yourself and let me take care of the rest.”

As if on cue, the barkeep finishes their drinks and slides them in front of the pair. “One Old Fashioned for you, and one Paloma for the young man.” She says. “Enjoy. I’ll be here for the rest of the night. Let me know if you guys need anything else.” And with that, she focuses her attention on the other patrons sitting around them. 

“Well,” Chuuya raises his glass towards him. “Cheers, to your first night out.”

Atsushi gingerly takes the glass in his hand, examining the orange-pink liquid. It looks harmless enough, so he meets Chuuya’s glass with a silent clink . “Cheers.”

Atsushi brings his lips to the rim of the glass hesitantly before tilting his head back and taking a sip. Chuuya looks at him expectantly. It’s not that bad. It kind of tastes like a lemonade that’s slightly bitter. “It’s… good.” Right as he gives the executive his answer, the tang of the alcohol invades his taste buds and his face draws back into a grimace.

Chuuya barks out a laugh. “Ha! Don’t worry, kid. You’ll get used to it.”

Sometime during the night, Chuuya notices that Atsushi took the bulky flip phone out of his back pocket and laid it on the surface in front of him. These barstools aren’t that comfortable, and the phone certainly wasn’t helping. It’s within eyeshot and his reach, so everything seems ok in that department. With that out of the way, Atsushi seems 100% comfortable in his surroundings. The alcohol has loosened him up, and he seems like he’s having a good time. Atsushi’s been chatting his ear off for the last hour and the executive is content to listen. Not for any nefarious reasons, just because he likes the company. 

It seems as if their resident weretiger is a lightweight. Which is the opposite of what he would’ve assumed. Chuuya figured that the tiger would filter out any foreign chemicals from the body to keep it safe, but he stands corrected. Atsushi hasn’t really had that much to drink, Chuuya swears. He’s been doing a good job watching his intake, making sure he doesn’t make any bad decisions. He’s just been downing Palomas like a champ–Well, “downing” isn’t the right word. He drinks at a normal pace, but he keeps asking for more when he’s done. If he had to guess, it’s probably the citrus-y flavor that Atsushi likes about it. Chuuya tried to get him to branch out, but the young detective didn’t seem to like anything else he tried, which is fine. He shouldn’t have anything stronger than this anyway. 

It’s a little past 2:00 now, and in his intoxicated state, Atsushi has no reason to believe that anyone would be calling him at this hour. He might have forgotten about calling Akutagawa back, but Chuuya certainly hasn’t. Though Atsushi can’t feel it, his phone’s been buzzing since he put it down. Despite this, Chuuya won’t ruin the detective’s fun. He’ll deal with Akutagawa himself. As his senior, it’s the responsible thing to do. 

So, when Atsushi excuses himself to the bathroom, Chuuya finally picks up. The first thing he hears on the other end is an annoyed tch . 

“Took you long enough, Jinko. I thought you said you were going to call–”

“Akutagawa, how nice of you to call about a million times.” He drawls sarcastically. Chuuya leans his body weight fully on the counter. He knows that Akutagawa isn’t going to take this lightly.

“Chuuya.” Akutagawa regards coldly. That’s not the way he should be speaking to an upper executive, but he’ll let it slide tonight. “I don’t believe this call was meant for you. Return this phone to its owner so I can speak with him.”

“Well, what if he doesn’t want to talk to you?” The executive is met with silence. A beat passes. Then another. And then–

“I just wanted to apologize to Atsushi, so if you would please just let me speak with him–” Akutagawa grits out, the words strained as if they were difficult for the man to utter. 

“I don’t think so.” Chuuya takes a slow sip from his glass. When he speaks again, he talks slowly to make sure the other is hanging on to every word. “He takes a lot of shit from you. He doesn’t hesitate to forgive you whenever you fight like this. I’m sure he’ll be eager to hear you out, but I’m not. I don’t give a flying fuck about what you have to say. If it’s important, then it can wait until tomorrow.”

“Now, wait just a minute–!”

“No. We’re going to finish enjoying our night, so you can go and fuck off.” Without waiting for a response, Chuuya flips the phone shut. He’s sure he’ll get an earful later, but he doesn’t really care. Sometimes Akutagawa can get a little ahead of himself, so it’s good to put him in his place once in a while. The executive places the phone back exactly where it was, so Atsushi doesn’t notice anything different when he gets back. 

After absentmindedly sipping his drink for a few minutes, Atsushi makes his way back to their spot, and it was just as he suspected: The weretiger is none the wiser about Chuuya’s little phone call with Akutagawa, and he’d like to keep it that way. As if no time passed at all, Atsushi goes back to prattling on about some outing he went on with the Agency a few weeks ago.

“Hey, kid, don’t you want to dance at all?”

“Hmm?” Atsushi blinks slowly at Chuuya, trying to recognize what he just said. “Dance? I don’t really know how to dance…”

“Well, not that kind of dancing.” Chuuya starts. He points over to where the dance floor is. “You don’t need any skill for it. It’s really just moving your body around.”

And as Atsushi continues observing the crowd, he sees truth in that statement. But still, he’s hesitant to join the mass of people. They’re all so… drunk. Don’t get him wrong, he has enough self-awareness left to know that he’s a little drunk, too. But they look really drunk. Anything could happen. He can deal with criminals and mafiosos and literal terrorists. But frequent club goers? Atsushi doesn’t think he can handle that. “I don’t know… What if something happens to me out there?”

He knows how some people are when they’re drunk, all handsy and bold in their alcohol addled minds. He would know. Dazai is quite touchy when he’s had a bit too much. He always has to have an arm wrapped around someone, or he’s draped over someone’s lap like a subdued cat. Atsushi isn’t bothered by this because he knows what Dazai is like and what’s normal for him. But these people? They’re all strangers. If any of them even brushed a finger against him, he swears he might actually jump out of his skin. 

“Kid, you’re no damsel in distress.” Chuuya snorts. “You are more than capable of defending yourself. You’re a weretiger.” Grow some were-balls, his brain supplies unhelpfully. Byakko chuffs as the memory is brought to the forefront of his mind.

“Hey, how about we go dance together?” Chuuya moves from his stool to stand in front of him, extending a hand out in invitation. “I’ll show you the ropes, and if you hate it, we can come sit back down and keep talking. How’s that sound?”

Agh, it sounds logical enough. And maybe he was just catastrophizing things. It’s just dancing. Out of all the people here, him and Chuuya are probably the scariest things here. 

“Mmmm… What the hell, why not?” Atsushi gives in once again to Chuuya’s whims. Once he’s given the ok, Chuuya wastes no time in taking Atsushi’s hand and dragging him to the dancefloor. It’s a mass of bodies, really. And if he were sober, he might have left immediately. But luckily, he’s not sober, and embarrassment has become an afterthought. 

Chuuya only brought them to the outskirts of the floor, so as to not overwhelm the young detective. There’s energy here, but it’s more toned down compared to the middle of the room. There’s some hyperpop song playing over the speakers, but honestly Atsushi couldn’t tell you what it is. He can only hear the heavy bass and the thumping of the electronic beat. He looks at Chuuya expectantly. “So, now what?”

“Just move your body, feel yourself, y’know?” No, he doesn’t really know, but he’ll pretend he does. He tries, he really does, but there must have been something off about how he looked because Chuuya stops him with a hand on his shoulder. 

“Wait, here.” Chuuya stands in front of Atsushi with his back towards him. He places the weretiger’s hands on his hips, making Atsushi hold him close. It’s a very hands-on approach (pun intended) and Atsushi appreciates the effort to acclimate him to the “club culture.” This would all be very intimate if Atsushi felt any sort of way towards the executive. If he didn’t have a boyfriend that he loves very much (even with their constant fighting), then he would be thoroughly seduced by this point. “How about you see what I’m doing, and then maybe you’ll have a better idea.”

In his grasp, Chuuya sways his hips to the beat and runs his hands up his body. It’s quite the show. Atsushi can see a few onlookers watching Chuuya with envy, like they either want him or want to be him. Dazai is a lucky man. A very lucky man, indeed.

After a few minutes, he takes a few steps forward, removing himself from Atsushi. He is facing the young detective now, but he still continues to dance. As the current song is fading out and the next one is starting, he encourages Atsushi to try for himself. “C’mon! You get the gist of things, right?”

This time he does, or at least, he thinks he does. He moves his hips similarly to how Chuuya did earlier. His arms mainly stayed at chest level while he danced, but he slowly raised them when it felt right. He felt silly dancing like this, but it was kind of fun. He must have been doing better than before because Chuuya lets out an amused wolf whistle. The attention brings more heat to his cheeks, but he doesn’t hate it.

Chuuya goes back for some more drinks, but Atsushi remains on the dance floor. Chuuya was hesitant to leave him out there by himself, but the detective assured him that he’d be fine. 

“Well, if you’re sure. I’ll be right over there,” He points back to their original spot, which miraculously did not get taken during their absence. “To keep an eye on you, just in case.”

And with that, Atsushi was to his own devices. He ends up dancing with a group of girls for a while. They seemed amiable enough, and he was feeling like quite the social butterfly at that moment. It didn’t take much to start up casual conversation with them. He had to yell over the music to be heard, but he didn’t mind. They didn’t seem to mind, either. So it was a win-win.

As they dance, they unintentionally start gravitating towards the center of the room. They’re further into the crowd now, making it harder for Atsushi to see Chuuya.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Chuuya watches on from the sidelines, just as he promised he’d do. It seems like Atsushi was enjoying the bustling energy of the club now more than ever. The detective hasn’t expressed any interest in leaving, so Chuuya hasn’t brought it up. He kind of likes spending time with him like this. It’s nice to be around one of his juniors that isn’t literally batshit insane like the rest of them. Atsushi’s past was certainly not easy, but Chuuya would say that he drew the long end of the stick when it came to tragic backstories. 

From behind him, he can feel a shift in the energy. It was something heavy compared to the fun atmosphere, something dark. Chuuya turns his head quickly towards the entrance, silently hoping he won’t have to demonstrate any of Arahabaki’s power tonight.

In the crowd he sees a pale figure make his way towards him, practically radiating anger. Many of the patrons don’t pay Akutagawa any mind, but the ones that do only give him a bit of a side-eye. He’s not donning his usual black coat and white shirt. Instead, he’s dressed down, wearing a lightweight, turtleneck tank top with a dark cyan hoodie pulled over his shoulders. It’s strangely put-together for Akutagawa. Akutagawa isn’t the most fashionable person ever, so Chuuya’s almost impressed. 

When Ryuunosuke reaches him, he grabs him roughly by the front of his shirt. It alarms the bartender, but Chuuya waves her off with a hand without looking at her. She gets the message and leaves the two to tend to other patrons again. 

“Nakahara.” Akutagawa seethes. Well, shit. “Where is he?”

“Good evening to you too, Akutagawa.” Chuuya answers dryly. What happened to hi, hello, how are you? Kids these days have no respect for their seniors anymore.

“I would hardly call it evening.” Akutagawa scoffs. “We’re well into the early hours of the morning.”

“Whatever, would you let me go already? You’re going to tear a hole in this shirt.” The executive says flippantly. He likes this shirt and it would be a shame to ruin it in a scuffle like this.

“‘Tear a hole into–?’ I’ll tear a hole into your flesh if you don’t tell me where he is!” Despite the threat he lets go, but he doesn’t look pleased. He probably won’t be happy with anything until he knows exactly where Atsushi is. It’s not like Chuuya’s keeping Akutagawa from the weretiger. He has the ability to go look for him himself, but he’s gotten caught up in his anger. He tends to do that a lot. 

“Relax.” That is exactly what not to say to a man as angry as Akutagawa, but Chuuya’s his superior, so he can suck it up. “He’s right over there.”

Chuuya turns his gaze towards the dance floor, looking for the white-haired detective. The crowd parts like the universe knew who he wanted to see. When his eyes land on him, alarm bells go off in his head and he gets down from the barstool he’s sitting on. Akutagawa must have seen it the same time the executive did, because his jaw is tight and his hackles are raised. A sleazy looking man, roughly a head or so taller than Atsushi, is pestering him. What’s worse is that he’s touching him, too. It’s just a little grab of the wrist, but even that is too much. Especially when Atsushi looks so clearly uncomfortable, trying to tug the limb away without using more force than necessary. Even from here, both mafiosos can see how the weretiger restrains himself from lashing out (though it would be completely warranted if he did). Some people need to be told to keep their hands off of things that don’t belong to them. 

Akutagawa marches forward without question, but Chuuya is quick enough to grab him tightly by the shoulder before he makes any rash decisions. “Hey, wait a second—” 

“Unhand me this instant!” Akutagawa snarls. “I have been playing by your rules all night, and I have had it with you! How dare you meddle in my personal affairs! Now, I will handle this situation as I see fit.”

Chuuya raises his hands in surrender and watches him go without another word. At this point, he won’t argue with the other any more. He’ll leave this in the other’s capable hands.

Eventually, Atsushi finds himself getting worn out. The night must have caught up to him. It makes sense, though. He did have work earlier today after all. That shift seems like forever ago. He can’t believe it’s still the same day. Well, technically speaking, that was yesterday, but no one here cares for specifics. 

He gives a long-winded goodbye to his new acquaintances and makes his way back to the bar, hoping to get some regular water in his system before they leave. He can feel his eyes drooping a little while he walks. Being tired usually didn’t affect his motor skills—he’s been on plenty of overnight missions before–but it must be the alcohol. One moment he’s looking at Chuuya, who’s still seated at the bar but his back is turned towards him—something probably caught his attention—and the next he’s smacking face first into another individual’s back. 

“Oof–!” Atsushi stumbles back at the impact. “I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it.” The man says, turning to face him. His eyes zero in on his face before very obviously gliding over the rest of his body. The action causes chills to go up Atsushi’s spine. There’s nothing inherently threatening about it, but the detective doesn’t like the way it makes him feel dirty, like a commodity. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here?”

The man steps into his space, and Atsushi takes an appropriate step back. “I was actually just about to leave.” He laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. He tries to glance around the man without making it obvious he’s looking for an out, but the crowd is too condensed around them.

“Aw, don’t be like that.” He takes another step forward, this time grabbing the young man’s wrist to stop him from retreating again. They’re uncomfortably close, and Atsushi can smell the alcohol on his breath. His grip is tight. “Why don’t you give me one more dance, and then you can be on your way?”

“No, really,” Atsushi tries tugging his arm away without causing too much of a fuss. He doesn’t want to cause a scene. “I have to get going now. I’ve stayed out longer than I should tonight.”

“Come on, it’s the least you can do after bumping into me.” The man sneers. He wasn’t particularly friendly before, but now all attempts at decency have been thrown out the window. Atsushi glances around again, hoping someone has noticed his predicament. But no one does. He can’t seem to catch anyone’s eye.

“No, I really don’t want to–” He tries tugging away again.

“What, so you think you’re too good to dance with me? Is that it?” Atsushi can see how the other man is starting to get mad. He quickly tries to backtrack.

“N-No that’s not what I–!” The detective puts out his other hand to push the man out of his space. Things are not looking good and he would hate to have to use the tiger’s strength on a civilian, especially in such a public place like this. Byakko rumbles in the back of his mind, clearly not sharing his sentiment.

Before the man can get out another word, a voice interrupts from behind them. “Though he’s too nice to outright say it, I believe he’s telling you to fuck off.” 

Atsushi knows that voice! It’s low and raspy—the kind of rasp you get when your throat is sore. It’s cool and collected, but there’s an undertone of pure malice. Despite the threat in his tone, Atsushi can’t help but feel relieved, because he knows it’s directed towards the other. The man releases him to glare directly at the offender, opening up the space around them and unintentionally giving Atsushi a better view of the newcomer. The detective absentmindedly rubs at the skin of his wrist, soothing the nerves from the man’s tight grip.

And there, standing in the obnoxiously colored lights of the dance floor, is Ryuunosuke Akutagawa. It’s not everyday that Atsushi gets to see him in casual clothing, so he can’t help but take a second or two to admire him. And the lighting, though it’s hurting his eyes and head now, is casting shadows in all the right places, accentuating the sharp angles of his face. With all the shit that’s been going on everywhere, it’s easy to forget how handsome his boyfriend is. 

“What the hell did you say to me?” He looms over Akutagawa, but it’s clear to see who poses a bigger threat. The stranger may have the height and build, but Akutagawa has the experience and refined instincts of a killer—well, former killer. He doesn’t do that anymore. Even though they aren’t planning on killing each other any time soon, Ryuunosuke still upholds his end of the deal.

“I said,” He bites out more forcefully. “He wants you to fuck off!”

Without waiting for a response, Akutagawa winds his fist back and delivers a swift uppercut to the man’s jaw. Even with the music, Atsushi can hear how his teeth clank against each other at the impact. Ouch . The weretiger has no doubt that the punch was reinforced with the hard shell of Rashoumon. Such a beautiful and dangerous ability (much like its user). 

The man lurches back, clearly caught off guard by the strength of the punch. Akutagawa’s lithe frame makes it hard to imagine the kind of power he actually has. With a punch like that combined with the amount of alcohol in that man’s system, it’s no surprise that he falls flat on his ass. Without missing a beat, Atsushi hurries to Akutagawa’s side, creating the much needed space between him and the offensive stranger. He presses closely against Ryuunosuke’s side. If the other patrons haven’t noticed their quarrel before, then they surely have now. They move out of the way and form a wide circle around them, gossiping amongst themselves. 

As a member of the Agency, Atsushi should feel at least a little bad… But he’d call this a dose of well-deserved karma. The man cradles his jaw in his hand, still reeling from the attack. He makes no move to get up again. That’s probably the only good choice he’s made tonight. Surely he knows that nothing good will await him if he retaliates. 

“Just who the hell do you think you are?!” The man grits out. He’s shaking, whether it’s in fear or rage or shock, Atsushi couldn’t tell you. 

“Me?” Akutagawa mocks. He speaks slowly as if talking to a child. “I’m the one man in the world you shouldn’t have fucked with tonight. I am the Port Mafia’s rabid dog.”

“But above all else,” In one fluid motion, Akutagawa snakes one hand down to the small of Atsushi’s back and the other to the back of his head, threading his fingers through short white hair, and pulls him close. The detective shudders at the touch. Even through the layers of his clothes, Ryuu’s touch feels hot enough to ignite flames. He can’t get enough of it. “I’m his partner.”

Then, it was like Akutagawa’s body was seized in a fit of possessiveness. He brings their lips together into a rough kiss. It’s uncoordinated and messy but Atsushi can’t help but hum into it. The detective cups his face in both of his hands and kisses back with fervor. Akutagawa presses him flush against his chest, like even the smallest space between them is too much. He runs his tongue lightly across his lips in that way that makes Atsushi go fucking crazy. 

Atsushi’s eyes have closed by now, but not Ryuu’s. Instead, he glares down at the trash that wishes this were him. He holds eye contact with the stranger while Atsushi squirms in his grasp. It’s a game of chicken, but Akutagawa won’t let the other win. Eventually the man gives up, tearing his eyes away from the two. Satisfied, Ryuunosuke disconnects their lips, leaving barely an inch between them. For a moment, they simply stop and breathe, sharing the same heated air. Atsushi’s breath comes out in small pants as he tries to collect himself.

“It would be best for you to keep your filthy hands off things that don’t belong to you. Otherwise, you might lose them.” Akutagawa threatens. With that, the man gives a quick nod and scrambles away. The crowd parts for him and the remaining onlookers shift nervously, unsure of what’s going to happen next. Ryuunosuke pays them no mind.

“Atsushi?” He murmurs against his lips. The weretiger gives a quiet hum in response. He has opened his eyes again and Akutagawa can see how droopy they are. It’s about time they get home and go to bed. “Let’s get out of here, ok?”

“Yeah,” Atsushi yawns. “Let’s do that.”

Akutagawa wraps an arm around Atsushi’s waist as they walk back over to Chuuya, absentmindedly rubbing the exposed skin with his thumb. He enjoys the feeling of skin on skin contact, because he knows that only he has the privilege of touching him like this and Ryuunosuke wants to let everyone in this god forsaken bar know it too. He’d let the whole world know if he could. But he’ll refrain because he knows that Atsushi will be terribly embarrassed by this whole ordeal in the morning. 

“Wow,” Chuuya gives them a slow, sarcastic sounding round of applause. “That was quite the spectacle.”

“Shut up.”

Atsushi comes to with the worst headache he’s ever had in his life. Chuuya was watching him pretty closely, why didn’t he cut off his alcohol intake?? He wants to get up and take something for this so badly, but the bed is so comfortable. Since it’s so comfortable, Atsushi can assume that he’s not in his Agency-issued dorm. The only place he could be is in Ryuunosuke’s apartment.

When Atsushi cracks open his eyes, he’s met with Akutagawa’s gray ones staring right back at him. As he becomes more aware of his surroundings, he can feel how their limbs are tangled together beneath the expensive covers of Ryuu’s bed. The body heat is pleasant, almost pleasant enough to make him fall back to sleep. But he can’t do that. He’s not sure what time it is, but it’s definitely too late to be sleeping still.

“What’re you looking at?” Atsushi asks groggily.

“You.” Ryuunosuke replies simply. It’s one word, yet it holds so much affection. It’s so easy for him to say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Creep.” Atsushi bites back a smile. Of course, he can’t just let this moment be sweet. He has to crack a few jokes once in a while. Yes, the mood might be ruined, but Ryuu will forgive him someday.

“Stop that.” Ryuu gives his shin a light kick. The kick itself isn’t very effective since it’s more like a nudge than anything, but his feet are so cold it makes Atsushi want to shriek out. He tries to avoid the cold touch, flailing slightly beneath the covers. Akutagawa chuckles softly and wraps his arms around Atsushi’s midsection, pulling the weretiger back to him. Atsushi pretends to keep struggling in his grip. When his squirming has died down a bit, Ryuunosuke rests his chin on the crown of his head.

“Do you really think you can get rid of me that easily?” He finishes with a gentle kiss to his hairline. No, Atsushi thinks fondly. I wouldn’t even dream of getting rid of you. He tucks his head into his collarbone, getting comfortable again. His silence tells Akutagawa everything he needs to know, because somehow, their relationship has evolved past the need for words.

“Ryuu, what time is it?” Atsushi asks, breaking the comfortable silence. He presses his lips against the exposed skin in front of him and trails up the column of his neck. Akutagawa lets out an airy laugh as Atsushi brushes against a sensitive patch of skin. The mafioso cranes his neck to look at the clock behind his lover.

“It’s a little before ten o’clock.” He says. Huh? 10 o’clock ? He must be joking. Because if he wasn’t joking, then that means that he’s almost two hours late for work. He pulls away briefly to look into Akutagawa’s eyes, searching for any hint of a joke. To his dismay, there is not. He doesn’t need to check the clock over his shoulder to confirm when this is all the proof he needs. 

“What!?” Atsushi exclaims a little too loudly. Akutagawa winces at the volume. The detective pays him no mind. He tries to untangle their limbs once again, but Ryuu keeps his arms firmly planted around his waist. 

“I’m sorry, I love you, but I need to run if I want to save my workplace reputation–” He presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Ryuu’s lips. In his struggle to get free, he tries to make a plan: What clothes is he going to steal from Akutagawa’s closet for today? What’s the fastest route to the office? How is he going to beg for forgiveness to Kunikida and the President (Maybe that’s a bit of a stretch, but he needs to promise that this will never happen again)?

“No, you don’t–” Ryuu starts calmly. For someone who possesses much less physical strength than himself, he’s sure standing his ground. His calm demeanor is not doing anything to quell his panic.

“–I know we don’t usually get to spend time like this, but I promise I’ll make it up to you–!”

“–Because I already called in for you.”

“I just need to– huh?” Atsushi stops his struggle, his brain processing what he just said. Ryuunosuke could practically see the gears turning in his head. Once he’s sure of what he heard, a large grin breaks out on his face. “Did you really call in for me?”

“Yes,” He says, suddenly embarrassed, as if he didn’t kiss him stupid in front of a bunch of drunk people less than 24 hours ago. Ryuunosuke Akutagawa is such a strange man. He can basically go and tell a bunch of strangers that Atsushi belongs to him and him alone, but getting complimented for something nice that he did? That’s too much. 

“I didn’t have to speak with the Doppo Poet, luckily.” Akutagawa clears his throat. “Dazai quickly interfered when he heard it was me calling.”

Atsushi’s not so sure if that’s any better, but Akutagawa seems pleased with himself. Dazai is sure to tease him relentlessly when he comes back to work tomorrow. But you know what they say: Every action has an equal opposite reaction. He gets to spend the rest of the day with his amazing boyfriend? Boom, Dazai will tease him all day tomorrow.

8:37

Kunikida glances up from his laptop. Atsushi isn’t here yet. He usually makes sure to arrive 10-15 minutes before the day starts. It’s a good habit to keep. It’s not like Atsushi to be late like this. Next to Atsushi’s empty desk is Dazai’s surprisingly occupied one. Dazai actually showed up somewhat on time for once. Though, maybe he shouldn’t have bothered coming in at all because the brunette is just sleeping against his desk.

The blonde watches another minute tick by out of the corner of his eye while he works. Still no Atsushi. Without hesitation, he grabs his phone and dials in Atsushi’s number. It rings once, twice, thrice, and then a click indicating that the line’s been picked up. Another unusual thing. Atsushi always picks up right away.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Akutagawa is awoken to the sound of ringing and he immediately groans. They got back to his apartment around 3 this morning. It wasn’t hard to get Atsushi into bed. The minute the weretiger’s head hit the pillow, he was asleep. All Ryuunosuke had to do was pull the covers over him before he succumbed to sleep as well. 

With heavy limbs, he blindly grabs for his phone on his nightstand. When he grabs it, he’s perplexed to see the screen still dark, yet the ringing persists. Shit, it’s Atsushi’s. His phone isn’t on the nightstand, which means it must have fallen out of Atsushi’s pocket while they were getting ready for bed earlier. Akutagawa gets up silently so as to not wake up sleeping beauty. It takes a second, but the mafioso manages to find it before its final ring finishes. 

“Hello?” He says gruffly into the receiver. The caller doesn’t respond right away, probably taken aback by how his voice clearly isn’t Atsushi’s.

“Akutagawa? What are you–?”

“Ooh, Akutagawa’s on the phone?” Dazai’s voice chimes in from the background. “Here, let me talk to him!”

“Hey, you can’t just–!” There’s a sound on the other end as Dazai plucks the phone out of Kunikida’s hands.

“Well, Aku-kun, this is quite the surprise. To what do we owe the pleasure of hearing from you this morning?

Akutagawa brushes off the nickname and gets straight to the point. He and Dazai are still not on the friendliest of terms. With what the man did to him during his teenage years, he doesn’t think they’ll ever be on great terms. At least the joint missions with the Agency have helped the hostility die down. “Atsushi will not be coming in to work today.”

“Fufufufu, I’m sure he isn’t.” Dazai goads. “Take care of him.”

And with that, the line goes silent and Akutagawa lies back down to rest a little longer.

“Thank you.” Atsushi cups Ryuu’s face in his hands, much like the night before, and kisses him. Though, unlike last night, this kiss is slow. There’s no urgency behind it, there’s nothing he has to prove with this kiss. When they part, it feels too soon. Ryuunosuke already misses the feeling of Atsushi’s lips on his, and he dives back in for another one. Atsushi laughs into it, whispering something that sounds awfully like the word “needy” against his lips. Akutagawa chooses to ignore that in favor of kissing the young man in his bed until he’s breathless.