Work Text:
Chuuya was a fairly busy man. Not only was he an executive for the most powerful underground organization in Yokohama, but he was also a single 22-year-old living on his own. If he wasn’t working, he was running errands or asleep. The only time he got an actual moment of conscious silence was in the early morning hours right before bed, though it wasn’t uncommon for those few moments to be interrupted either.
More rarely, he got a few hours just to chill out and binge some awful rom-coms. However, even then, it wasn’t entirely uncommon for Mori or one of his subordinates to request him at work, so when his ringtone cut off the dialogue of his show, he couldn’t exactly say he was surprised. With a sigh, he muted the tv and picked up the phone, paying no mind to the unknown caller ID.
“This better be good,” he grumbled through the receiver. He may not have been surprised, but it didn’t automatically mean he was happy about his time being disturbed, either.
“O-Oh, Um, Hi! This is Chuuya, right?” The voice on the other side came through. He’d say it sounded like the man tiger if he didn't know any better. “It’s Atsushi; I don’t know if you remember me or not; we haven’t really met. Not formally, at least,” as the kid ended his nervous rambling, Chuuya could feel his annoyance melt to confusion.
“Atsushi? Oh, you’re that man tiger working at the agency, right?” he asked but continued before the detective could respond. “The hell do you want?”
It sounded like the kid was about to respond, but another voice came through the speaker, and Chuuya’s annoyance quickly returned. The voice sounded like a scummy fish he had no interest in. There were others, too, a more feminine one and another guy scolding the other two voices. As Atsushi joined in the scolding attempt, Chuuya’s hand made its way to the chain that lay hidden under his shirt.
“Sorry about that. Some of the detectives went out for drinks, and a lot of them had a little bit too much,” there was more dialogue in the background, though most of it was choppy and slurred. Chuuya didn’t care enough to pay attention to it, but the man tiger had paused again to say something to someone else. Chuuya pulled out the chain and began fiddling with a ring attached at its end while he waited. “Look, I know it’s late, and you’re probably really busy, but do you think you can come pick up Dazai?”
Chuuya nearly choked on air, and he paused his idle fidgeting. “Eh? Why the fuck would I do that for?”
“Oh, well, I just thought you and Dazai seem like pretty close friends,”
“Me and that Bandage waster? Friends? Hah, yeah, right,” He said as he continued playing with the ring Dazai himself proposed to him with. “Where’d you even get that idea from?”
“Oh, well, It’s just… You know, the way you guys act, and Dazai kept mentioning you, so I just assumed,”
“Whatever,” Chuuya interrupted the kid. He could excuse a simple mistake, and with how apologetic the kid sounded, there wasn’t much of a reason to scare him too much. “Dazai’s with you, yeah? Why not just babysit him yourself? Or even better, just leave him there.”
“If I could take him, I would, but I already promised Doctor Yosano I’d get her back safely, and Kyoka is expecting me back once I drop her off.” After he finished, the mantiger’s words became muffled again, followed by scuffling. Talking to one of his drunken colleagues, no doubt. As the silence continued, Chuuya felt more pity for the kid on the other end.
Dazai was insufferable as it was on an average day, but when he was drunk? Most assumed Chuuya was more into drinking among the duo, but it was the other way around. Though he usually did so privately, drinking had always been one of the ex-mafiosos' preferred unhealthy coping mechanisms. “Look, I really have to get going, and the bar’s going to close soon. Can you come pick him up or not?”
“Fine,” Chuuya ended up sighing. “Just tell me the location, and I’ll get him home in one piece.” Though he hesitated, Chuuya couldn’t say he regretted his decision when relief filled the kid's voice while he prattled about the location.
It only took a minute after the call ended for the executive to grab the keys to his new car and make his way over to the address. Sure, he could have sent a cab or Akutagawa to grab him, but there’s no way he’d miss the opportunity to yell at the bandaged idiot. Plus, it wouldn’t be right to dump him on someone else, especially with how unpredictable alcohol could make him. Though Dazai liked to deny it, he had emotions. Emotions that, more often than not, played a role in how alcohol influenced him.
The first time Chuuya had ever seen Dazai truly drunk, they’d been 15, a mere two months after they first met. He didn’t remember the exact circumstances surrounding how he’d found the other, but Chuuya could never erase the way he’d found Dazai. His eyes were as vacant and expressionless as the rest of his face, sitting unmoving and reeking of whiskey. He initially thought Dazai had just died of alcohol poisoning; he was so still and silent. But then the living corpse covered his non-bandaged eye with a hand and dropped it a minute after with a dopey smile, and he realized his mistake.
Another time, just after the first ‘Arahabaki Incident,’ they’d decided to get drinks together. They had both consumed copious amounts of liquor, but Dazai managed to get a little more smashed despite Chuuya being a lightweight. On that occasion, he had more life than Chuuya ever thought him possible of possessing. It was the only reason he could remember how much Dazai shamelessly flirted with him, calling him an angel of all things.
Other times he was angry; other times, he was trying to do something stupid, like racing a shopping cart from the top of a flight of stairs. So yeah, dealing with a drunk Dazai was like reaching your hand into a mixed bag of candy and pulling one out at random, and nothing could prepare you for the outcome. It was yet another aspect of Dazai that pissed Chuuya off to no end.
When he got to the bar, it was a ghost town. Atsushi and the other patrons had already left. There were only two people at the front, the bartender (who was trying his best to ignore Dazai) and Dazai, who slumped onto the bar while attempting to chat with the bartender. Seeing the antics made the tension leave the red-heads muscles.
“Oi, Mackerel,” Chuuya said to get his attention while he placed a hand on the taller man's shoulder. Dazai turned to look at him with a grin on his face. “Come on, you’ve tortured this poor guy enough,” his hand moved to the collar of the brunette's coat as he tugged at it to get him up faster.
“What was that? Chuu~ya?” He slurred. He fully turned and stumbled off the stool, keeping a hand on the bar for balance. “So mean, you’re not even gonna say hi to my coworkers?” Once on solid ground, Dazai leaned away from the hold, but his swaying wasn’t enough to break it entirely. Chuuya looked around the still-empty bar, unamused.
“The fuck are you talking about? There’s no one else here.” He used his grip to spin the brunette around to look at the rest of the bar. His relaxed features tensed up while his eyebrows raised in shock. “Did you seriously drink yourself senseless enough to not even realize they left?”
Dazai turned back to Chuuya, glaring but with a pout on his lips. “Can you believe them, Chuu? They left in the middle of my story!” Ah, Chuuya realized, he’d been in a chatty mood tonight. He’d probably gotten so caught talking that he didn’t know he’d been left there. “But,” Dazai continued, leaning over to put more weight on the shorter one, “it’s alright. Now I get a sleepover with my dog!”
“I ain’t your fucking dog,” he said on instinct. “And who said I’m staying with you? I was asked to pick you up, that’s it.” With Dazai draped over his shoulder, the mafioso started the complicated process of manoeuvring them back out to the car.
“Mmm, no. You wouldn’t stay at my place. S’ too far and it’s too un… un-nice? No, that’s not right,” he mumbled.
“Uncomfortable?”
“Yeah! That!” Chuuya tried and failed to suppress a sigh. It was almost endearing, how a man so smooth and confident was now joyfully rambling and forgetting common words. It was like all the darkness and mystery had been cut away, leaving a happier man in its stead. “We’re gonna’ go to the Slug's apartment,” he cheered.
“Absolutely not. You’re going home, then straight to bed.” They had made it to the car, and Chuuya thanked his lucky stars that Dazai was feeling cooperative tonight. Getting the drunk man loaded into the back seat was hard enough with how lanky he was; not having to fight was nice.
Once Dazai had been sitting properly with his seatbelt fastened, Chuuya went to get on his side, but a hand around his wrist stopped him from getting out. When he looked up to ensure everything was ok, his breath left him completely.
Dazai had always been relatively attractive in a rugged way, but it wasn’t often he ever looked so vulnerable. His cheeks were minted pink from the alcohol, and although his eyes were a little unfocused, they shone with tears that would never fall. The pout was back in full force while he attempted to pull puppy dog eyes, a tactic Chuuya would never admit had been working. Then there was the loose grip on his wrist, hesitant yet desperate all the same. The hold was gentle, much softer than Chuuya ever thought he’d been capable of. Before he could ask what was wrong, Dazai started talking again.
“Please?” he drawled. “I just wanna hang out with you; it’s been a while, ya know?” the hand was withdrawn from his wrist before the detective averted his gaze. “I really don’t wanna’ be alone right now, and the others already left me, didn’t they?”
Chuuya’s heart would never break for Dazai, but the amount of sympathy he felt was close enough. With a sigh, he slammed the car door and walked to the driver's side. Dazai had remained silent for the first time that night.
“If you vomit on my carpets, I’m kicking your ass to the curb,” he spoke carefully, watching the rearview mirror for Dazai’s reaction. At his words, the detective gradually perked up again as he processed them, catching onto their meaning.
The rest of the ride back was uneventful. Dazai had started talking again, though it wasn’t entirely clear if he was speaking to himself or Chuuya; regardless, the mafioso occasionally responded on the few occasions the brunette shut up long enough for him to do so. For a few blissful minutes, Chuuya thought the rest of the night would be similar.
Parking the car had been an easy process. Getting Dazai out of the back seat was even easier since he’d practically thrown himself at Chuuya the first chance he got. Everything was fine until they reached the lobby. While waiting for the elevator, a young woman walked in.
“Nakahara-san! Good morning,” The young woman said, standing beside the duo. Chuuya mentally groaned but returned her syrupy smile. Dazai, unaware of his inner turmoil, glanced at the woman and idly flirted at her. It wasn’t much of a conversation, as the woman didn’t really respond to him, but that didn’t seem to discourage the detective. “A friend of yours?” She asked with a giggle.
“Yeah, something like that,” he put simply. If it were a stranger or one of his coworkers, he would have jumped at the chance to deny such an accusation. Unfortunately, this was one of the neighbours he occasionally talked to, one who seemed quite interested in his personal life at that. He didn’t want to make an excuse as to why he was bringing home someone completely wasted who wasn’t his friend.
“How sweet! You’re such a kind man, Nakahara-san,” she gushed. Dazai giggled and turned to Chuuya once again.
“Ne, Chibi, she thinks you’re real nice, hmm?” Chuuya slapped him on the back of the head and growled at him to shut up. “Owww, What’d I do? See miss! You couldn’t be more wrong. Chuuya’s such a brute!”
Again, the girl giggled with her mouth covered. The elevator arrived, which did nothing to alleviate the Mafioso’s stress. Once the doors began to close, the woman cleared her throat and looked to the ground.
“So, It’s been a while since we’ve run into each other. Have you been busy?”
“Yeah, work and all that. You?” he responded boredly. Dazai had been silent for the second time that night but had still decided to look at the neighbour quizzically.
“Ah, well yeah, I guess,” she mumbled while fidgeting on the spot. The conversation temporarily died there as the elevator kept climbing. When they were a few floors below their stop, she continued again. “Well, um, the next time you get some time off, maybe we could go out to dinner? Or maybe we could get coffee? Only if you’re not involved with someone else, of course!”
“Look, I’m sure you’re a lovely girl and all, bu-”
“Ohh, Chibi! You gotta say yes!” Dazai interrupted him mid-sentence. “A chance like this might not come again, you know,” he sang. The girl's face reddened, but her expression lifted exponentially. He turned to the girl again, “It’s your lucky day! I happen to know this itty bitty Chibi is very sin-”
“Would you shut it?!” It was the redhead's turn to interrupt. “Not that it’s any of your business Mackerel, but I’m actually engaged.”
The silence that filled the elevator was deafening. Even the dinging and mechanical whirling were drowned and muted by the tension that had made itself known.
“O-Oh! I’m so sorry; I didn’t realize. Please forget I ever asked,” the woman was the first to break the silence. Thankfully she turned away out of embarrassment since there was no way Chuuya could deal with both her and Dazai staring at him.
The way the detective was currently staring at him was unnerving. It was the complete opposite of how he’d been acting a mere five seconds ago. Gone was the teasing glint in his demeanour while struggling to put all his weight on his shorter counterpart. At first, the only emotion readable on the brunette's face was shock, pure and unbridled. It only lasted for about a minute, though, before the novelty wore off and his gaze hardened into something unreadable through the cloud of different emotions.
Their floor couldn’t have come any faster. Once the door opened, the woman hurried out with another apology falling from her lips. Chuuya took his time dragging Dazai out of the elevator this time around, a task which was much easier when the lanky bastard hadn’t been draped over him as much as humanly possible. Although his door wasn’t very far from the elevator, the silence that fell made it seem like an eternity.
The second the front door to the apartment closed, Dazai took the ginger's gloved hands and pulled them up to his face to examine them. Chuuya sputtered as he was dragged forward and struggled to catch himself once Dazai had finished his inspection. Before he could yell or question what was happening, Dazai was off again, stumbling through the apartment while looking at anything and everything. Chuuya followed the younger man with his eyes for a while before curiosity finally got the better of him.
“Oi, what do you think you’re doing, shitty Mackerel?” Dazai turned from where he was in the living room to face Chuuya’s direction with a glare.
“Chibi’s engaged?” he mumbled. Dissatisfied with his search, he moved to sit on the couch with a huff. “That’s not right. If Chuuya had a partner, I’d know about it.” Maybe Dazai would deny it in the morning, but from where Chuuya stood, it was evident that he was fully pouting. “Chuuya doesn’t even have a ring on or… or anything here that looks out of place. It’s all just Slug’s stuff,” he elaborated. Chuuya didn’t verbally respond, but he did move to sit next to him on the couch. “Chibi deserves someone that’ll want to show him off, not hide him in a separate…mmm, what’s it called?”
“Apartment?”
“Yeah! Dogs need lots of space to run around! And their owners should be really loyal and live with them and…” he trailed off after that. It was stupid, so stupid that Chuuya completely looked over the dog bit and let out a chuckle. “Hey, you should tell me who you're going to marry! Then leave them, ‘cause they obviously don’t know how to take care of slugs.”
Dazai leaned into Chuuya's space expectantly. The mafioso made no move to lean away; instead, he took hold of the chain around his neck and pulled it into view. Slowly, he took one of the bandaged hands and placed the ring in it for Dazai to look at.
There wasn’t much to the ring itself; it wasn’t even from a jewellery store. It was an adjustable child's ring made of some cheap, gold-plated metal. The band itself was thin and flimsy, a little dirty, yet held a consistent colour as if it’d never been worn. The centrepiece was slightly more interesting, still weak metal, but with red and white plastic gems to make it look like a crown.
Dazai glared at it while flipping it through his fingers as if the ring simply existing around Chuuya’s neck personally offended him. Before he could spew another insult, though, the redhead stopped him.
“I’m not surprised you don’t remember, so before you start spewing bullshit again, just know you’re the one who proposed with it.”
Dazai’s movements halted as he dropped the glare. For the first time that night, he had been genuinely expressionless, like his entire being had been shocked to the point of his emotions being rebooted. It only lasted a moment before he carefully looked up at Chuuya’s blues.
“I… Did I?”
“Mhmm, you did. It was a joke, so quit looking so stressed about it.” Chuuya went to take the ring back and re-tuck the chain in, but Dazai’s grip tightened around it while tugging it closer to himself, pulling the wearer along with it.
“Tell me about it,” he pleaded.
“Eh? Why? Like I said, it was a joke. There’s really nothing much to say.”
“Ne, won’t you tell me? Pretty please?” he drawled on much longer than necessary.
“Alright, alright,” Chuuya cut him off, resigning his fate. “Fine, I'll tell you if you shut up already.” Dazai made a zipper motion across his lips with the hand not holding the ring. With a sigh, Chuuya continued. “Eh, alright then. I think we were, like, 15? It wasn’t long after we met….”
Dazai and Chuuya, at the ripe age of 15, didn't exactly get along all that well. In the two months since Chuuya had joined the mafia, he and the brunette had only seen and spoken to each other a handful of times, but it usually resulted in headbutting of some sort.
Chuuya would never say they were friends with a relationship so volatile and hostile, but his opinion began to change little by little every time they visited the arcade. It had been a tradition between them since they first met. Every time they were given a job and Mori got tired of their fighting; they'd be sent to the arcade to settle their differences with some healthy competition. Now, it was just about every time they met, one would propose a trip, and the other would accept unconditionally.
The sticky carpets and constant noise had become a staple in their relationship but a distraction that Chuuya was now paying for as he lost yet another round to Dazai's fighting avatar.
“Damn it!” They’d been playing for a couple of hours now, bouncing from console to console. They hadn’t made any particular bet this time around, but bragging rights were always on the line. “No way you didn’t cheat on that one. I should’ve had that round in the bag!” They’d been playing this game for a while now, and Dazai had won every single round. Sure, with the other consoles, there was usually one or two Chuuya would win at, or Dazai would blunder, but the lack of success was starting to get to him.
“Why can’t you just accept you suck at this game,” Dazai sighed. “It’s not my fault you still can’t figure out how to use your head. You really are like a dog, repeating behaviour until you get some sort of gratification.”
“Would you quit that?! You didn’t win that bet! It was a tie at best,” he stated while hopping down from the stool and rounding the side of the game to head to the door.
“Hey, Chuuya, where are you going?” Dazai asked while hopping down from his stool.
“I’m going home. I can’t stand to hear your annoying voice for another second,” It was starting to get late, and Chuuya was getting tired. At this, Dazai gave him a questioning look to his back. They usually stayed for at least 3 hours or until the arcade closed, but they’d only been there an hour and a half so far. He quickly walked over to walk with the redhead.
“But we haven’t even been here that long,” Dazai whined while grabbing Chuuya’s arm and tugging it back to the games. “If you’re that desperate to move around, we can do that awful dancing game you insist on playing every time we’re here.”
Chuuya paused his steps. “You hate that game,” he glared at Dazai, “why would you suggest we play it?” Which was absolutely true. It was one of the few games Chuuya loved and could beat Dazai at every time. The brunette didn’t hide his distaste for it, saying it was way too much effort and he could get just as sweaty going to a gym, so he always tried to avoid it.
“It’s been a long week,” the brunette shrugged but refused to elaborate. Truthfully, Chuuya had had a long week. It was filled with little sleep and long, complex missions. Despite his newbie status, he’d been sent out due to his ability. The stress was why he suggested their meetup in the first place, but he didn’t tell Dazai the specifics. Dazai’s job must have been just as strenuous because there was absolutely no way Dazai cared enough to get him to de-stress.
Chuuya was going to respond, but movement at the front door caught his attention. A man stood holding the door open and talked to another man who wheeled something in on a dolly. They moved the machine to an empty space by the door and filled it with little plastic balls, then went over to the prize desk and talked to the clerk. The machine had been interesting enough to both of the boys, but it was Chuuya who went to inspect it first.
There were a bunch of different doors, coin slots, and dials to turn, each set accompanied by a window with paper slips with pictures of what was inside each compartment.
“What’s this supposed to be?” Chuuya asked, mostly talking to himself while looking at one of the papers with a bunch of animal figurines on it.
“That’s a gacha machine, obviously. Don’t tell me you’ve never seen one before.” Chuuya stayed silent and refused to meet Dazai’s eyes. “Wait, seriously? These things are all over the place.”
“Yeah, well, they probably aren’t as popular in Suribachi City,” the redhead snapped back.
“Ah, right.” Chuuya continued to stare at the different sections of the machine in silence while Dazai pulled out a coin. “They’re fairly popular, especially with little kids.” He put the coin into one of the coin slots and started to turn the dial. “You put in a coin, spin the dial, and…” he drawled as he spun the dial until it clicked, and plastic could be heard banging around until a little ball hit the transparent door. Chuuya watched as Dazai grabbed the ball and popped it open.
After looking inside it, though, Dazai’s bored expression turned into one of surprise, then was switched out with a mischievous smirk right after. Chuuya tried to lean over to look at the prize, but Dazai quickly put the lid back on the capsule. “Ah, Chuuya has no patience!”
“Yeah right, I’m not actually interested in whatever stupid toy you got,” he lied.
“Yes, you are. That’s the entire point of these machines! It’s supposed to be suspenseful,” Dazai explained with an odd smile and faux cheer. “I can’t blame you for not knowing that though; after all, there’s a bunch of stuff you haven’t experienced yet, right?”
“Oi, what are you-”
Dazai got down on one knee, and Chuuya cringed not only at his words but the sound of the sticky carpet.
“If you’d stay by my side as my dog, I’d let you experience everything this world has to offer,” his words cut through any of Chuuya’s remaining thoughts. Dazai grabbed the redhead's left hand and pressed the half with the ring into his palm. “Marry me, Chuuya, and I’ll love you forever.”
Chuuya looked at the bright, golden ring that sat in the ball and dumped it into his hand before giving Dazai a look of disgust.
“Go to hell, you’re actually disgusting.”
“Yeah, I feel sick enough to go to the hospital after saying all that,” Dazai held a hand over his mouth and gaging before rising back to his feet, tossing the top half of the ball into a nearby trash can. Chuuya slipped the ring into his coat pocket and tossed the top half of it.
“Come on then,” Chuuya began walking back to the consoles. “I’m gonna kick your ass so hard at Dance Dance Revolution.” It was a few steps before he realised Dazai wasn’t following, so he stopped and turned to the other boy. “You coming?”
Dazai stood staring at Chuuya with a dead stare. He looked at the trash can once, then replaced it with a smirk and skipped over to the shorter boy.
“You never brought it up again,” Chuuya continued. “At first, I thought you were mad at me for keeping the damn thing but looking back, you probably just forgot about it.” Dazai still held the ring but had stopped fiddling with it. Sometime during the story, they’d switched positions too. Chuuya sat slightly hunched over Dazai with his back against the armrest and the brunette lying on his stomach, kicking his legs behind him while trying to take up all of Chuuyas space.
“Buh….But why’d you keep it?” Dazai dropped his gaze back to stare at the ring.
“It’s dumb, but,” Chuuya gently removed the ring from Dazai’s grip, unclipped the chain, and then pressed it into a bandaged palm. Without worrying about the chain, Chuuya leaned back into a more comfortable position. He then averted his gaze away from Dazai and to the wall. “It was the first thing you ever gave me. Even if it was a dumb joke, I thought, maybe, it was a sign we were friends, or at the very least, you trusted me. So I kept it. I took it off for a while after you left, but It felt weird not wearing it, so it only stayed off for a month, max. So go ahead, laugh it up.”
After a few seconds in silent anticipation, Chuuya felt arms wrap around his waist and a face buried into his stomach. He jolted in shock, but when he tried to push Dazai off him, he didn’t budge.
“I’ve been an awful husband for my Chibi,” the detective mumbled sadly while turning his head to the side, still clinging to the mafioso.
“Hey, we aren’t actually married, shitty Dazai,” Chuuya said forcefully but placed a hand on Dazai’s hair to calm him down a bit.
“That’s even worse,” Dazai huffed and shook the hand from his hair. “That was seven years ago, and you haven’t gotten a proper ceremony. I’ve never even taken Chuuya on a proper date,” he pouted. Chuuya couldn’t help but laugh at the blatant worry on his ex-partner's face. The womanizer himself, who had proposed as a joke at 15, was worried about being a lousy husband. “It’s not funny, Chuuya! I flirted with so many people too; I haven’t been faithful at all!”
“Oh yeah? Wanna divorce me then?” Chuuya asked fondly. He wasn’t serious; of course, they’d have to be married first.
“No!” Dazai was quickly up on his knees, hand cupping the mafioso’s cheek. “You can’t do that. We don’t have a marriage certificate, so you can’t get rid of me yet.” He rested his head on the ginger’s shoulder and re-initiated the hug. This time, Chuuya returned it. “I’ll be a better husband, I promise.”
“I already told you we aren’t officially married, so of course we don’t have a marriage certificate. I think it’s time for you to go to bed,” Chuuya said softly but made no move to get Dazai up and into bed.
“M’ but are we dating?” Dazai asked, his voice starting to grow heavier with exhaustion.
“Yeah, sure. We’re dating,” which wasn’t a complete lie. Not that they ever put a name to their relationship or had any discussions about it, but Chuuya was confident they were more than friends at this point.
“So we can still get real married with a really real proposal one day?” Dazai’s speech was becoming slurred with more than just alcohol.
“Maybe someday. Maybe I’ll propose to you next time,” Chuuya responded with a yawn.
Dazai mumbled an argument, but it was unintelligible to Chuuya. Eventually, the arms around the mafioso's waist went slack, and his breathing evened out. Chuuya considered trying to get out from underneath him, but Dazai mumbled in his sleep every time he tried and tightened his hold. Eventually, he fell asleep as well after getting to a lying position. They slept through the night on the couch, tangled in each other's embrace, the capsule ring safely held in Dazai’s grasp.