Work Text:
Dazai Osamu hates the rain.
Kunikida has known this about his partner—now a much more loaded word than when Dazai first started at the agency thanks to their relationship, feelings, and engagement—for a long time. Ever since Ranpo pointed out his frequent absences when it rains, in fact. Annoyance gave way to worry, which gave way to affection, which gave way to… well. A different kind of partnership.
Now, they’re partners in many senses. They still work together, but they also live together. Dazai wears a ring on his finger. Sometimes, Kunikida catches him staring at it, a thoughtful smile on his face, while they’re working in the office, or when they’re climbing into bed, or when Kunikida wakes up a little later than his ideal time. He’d wonder if Dazai slept if the brunet didn’t look so well-rested.
And today, on one of their occasional shared days off, they’re walking in the very rain Dazai hates beneath a single umbrella.
Kunikida passes Dazai the occasional glance. Every single time, Dazai is smiling. “You’re quiet,” he observes.
“Hmm?” Dazai sends him a look. “Ah, you’re getting anxious because I’m not chattering on the way I usually do. You know how the rain is.”
“Dazai,” Kunikida insists. “This isn’t like other times it’s rained. You’re… functional.”
“And whose fault is that, marigold?” he taunts, passing Kunikida a smirk. “My beautiful work wife just has these effects on me. I’d say it might be an ability, but I’d nullify that if it was.”
Kunikida feels Dazai’s bare fingers press against the back of his hand.
“Maybe… it’s the touch itself bringing me peace. A lot of sad things happen when it rains, but being with you is happy.”
Kunikida winds his hand a little tighter around Dazai’s.
“What?” he singsongs. “Kunikida-kun, did my work wife get a little too touched by that?”
“To borrow your earlier words,” Kunikida says, “whose fault is that?” He imagines a halo above Dazai’s head and shudders.
“The wind is chilly today.”
Kunikida finds his fingers empty and Dazai’s arm resting across his shoulders.
“What a shame. It means I have to get closer.”
“Dazai…”
“Should I not have?” he asks, passing Kunikida a calm smile. “Am I being scolded?”
“You’re being praised,” Kunikida murmurs. “If that mind of yours would slow down, I’d tell you so.” He continues holding the umbrella steadily. The wind isn’t strong enough to pluck it out of his hands. Yet, anyway. And if it gets to that point, he fully anticipates getting waterlogged considering how steady the rain is. Well, he tells himself. If that happens, I’ll just have to run us a bath. He finds himself thinking of Dazai’s skin against his, of scrubbing every scarred inch of him and holding him close.
“Kunikida-kun, weren’t we supposed to turn a block back?”
Apparently, he’s thinking a little too hard about it.
“Such a shame,” Dazai tuts. “That I have to walk with you a little longer.”
Without the umbrella in his hand, Kunikida would probably dip Dazai into a kiss, but they’re planning to eat before they do anything else. So, they take the slightly longer way around to the little family restaurant. Kunikida puts his umbrella in the stand at the door, and they take a seat in one of the booths.
“Doppo.”
Kunikida stops studying the menu and glances up.
“Remember when we first came here?”
Kunikida hums. “Remind me.”
“We were just out walking one day, and out of nowhere, you got hungry.”
Humming again, he asks, “Where were we going again?”
Dazai turns the page. “I’m not really sure we were going anywhere. Maybe we were just out.”
“We usually walk after dinner. That’s the ideal time to do it.” Kunikida rests his menu on the table. “And if we’re out before dinner, we usually wind up eating.”
“Well, I just remember you turning to me and announcing it was two minutes past your ideal dinner and you were ravenous. Are you ready to order?”
Kunikida nods, and Dazai taps the button. In the middle of Dazai giving his order, he recalls with startling clarity the day they first came to this unremarkable little restaurant.
“Kunikida-kun…” Dazai whined the words and followed him. “My feet hurt…”
“I told you earlier we should wait until after dinner to take a walk,” Kunikida retorted. “I don’t understand why you were in such a rush.”
Dazai pouted at him. “I’m so tired…”
“This was your idea,” Kunikida grumbled, adjusting his glasses, studying a clearly exhausted and completely petulant Dazai. To be fair, that day was rough for both of them. Because that day, something went wrong during a mission. And even now, Kunikida knows it could have been Dazai or him. In their usual way, they fumbled through the rest of it anyway, a little shaken, but not injured.
He wondered then, as he wonders now, whether Dazai’s impulse to drag him on a walk was because of that somehow. Maybe like Kunikida, Dazai worries it could have been them. Or maybe he picked up on Kunikida’s worry and acted to give them something to do.
Whatever the case, Dazai initiated their walk earlier than usual, and his complaining made Kunikida think perhaps he did it to get them out of their dorms, where they would inevitably have to face the possibility that one day, it might be them.
Kunikida had a late lunch that day, and seeing how Dazai is sulking, he knew he could eat again, so he paced forward and grabbed Dazai’s hand.
“Doppo—“
“I’m famished,” he insisted. “Absolutely famished. And I saw a restaurant around here.”
“So?”
“So…” Kunikida glanced away. Lying to his partner in any form isn’t part of his ideal. “My ideal dinner time started precisely two minutes ago. Why don’t we take a break? We can eat something.”
“I didn’t bring my wallet.”
Kunikida plucked his own out of his back pocket. Dazai stared at it.
“I’m buying,” he stated.
“Like… a date?” Dazai asked.
“There’s no like about it.” Kunikida slipped his wallet back into his pocket and reached for Dazai’s hand, pressing it between his own. “Dazai, permit me to take you out on a date.” The way Dazai’s breath caught didn’t escape his notice. “Please.”
Dazai’s eyes fell away for a moment.
“If you don’t want me to—“
“God, Doppo.” Dazai’s gaze whipped to him. “Of course I want you to.”
They went to the same restaurant they’re now sitting in. Kunikida remembers exactly what they ordered. “You got a chestnut parfait,” he murmurs, leaning against his hand and stretching his other one across the table to set it on Dazai’s. “I ordered a seafood doria because it had crab in it. And a side salad. I let you have a few bites. You fed me one of your parfait.”
Dazai smiles fondly.
“You were really worried about what happened.”
“What happened?”
“Osamu,” Kunikida sighs.
Dazai’s smile remains, but it shifts.
“I was worried, too.”
Dazai’s warm brown eyes flit to his. “You’re not worried today, are you?”
“A little,” Kunikida confesses.
Clicking his tongue, Dazai murmurs, “That’s just like you, marigold.”
“It’s because it’s raining, and I know how that affects you.” Kunikida glances across the table. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Dazai nods and smiles. “I’m with my incredibly beautiful and amazing partner about to eat a warm meal.”
“It’s unlike you to be that sentimental.”
“Being here has me in that kind of mood,” Dazai explains.
Their hands part to eat. This time, at least, Dazai eats something a little more substantial. And instead of swapping bites, Dazai steals one, and Kunikida steals another in return. At least this has the added bonus of getting to see Dazai’s playful smile. It’s nothing they wouldn't have offered each other anyway.
Or so he thinks until Dazai continues reaching across the table. “Do you like mine better?”
Dazai passes him a smirk. “What gave you that idea?”
“When else have you stooped to stealing?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
As they continue firing questions back and forth, Kunikida lets him take another bite, then another. He can’t even be annoyed given how happy Dazai looks. Their dishes emptied, Kunikida pays and grabs his still dripping umbrella in one hand. Dazai takes his other.
“It was nice to come back here,” he says as Kunikida opens the umbrella beneath the awning. Before he can open it, he feels Dazai touch his arm and turns to find himself in a kiss. “It’s always nice to go out with you.”
“You really are feeling sentimental,” Kunikida observes. Holding his arm out, he says, “Come on, Dazai. Let’s go home.”
On the way back, two remarkable things happen.
There’s a point where Dazai drags him to a stop and says, “Look.” He turns to see Chuuya and Atsushi dancing in the rain like no one’s watching, indifferent to the drizzle, laughing and staring at each other like they’re the only parts of the world that exist. People stare or walk around them, but no one stops to look for long.
The wind then tears Kunikida’s umbrella to shreds. “Son of a—” he begins.
But Dazai is already laughing. “Well, there’s no helping it now.” He drops his fingers from the crook of Kunikida’s arm to his own hand. “When we get home, I’ll turn the kettle on. We can have some jasmine tea.”
“Fine,” Kunikida says, pulling him along, “but we soak first.”
He has a feeling, without Dazai saying anything, that his partner is also looking forward to it.