Work Text:
Dazai holds up a steaming steak situated on a boring, white plate with nothing but a candle on top for his slug. The brunet had just barely finished cooking it for Chuuya, hoping to make his dog’s birthday the best day that he’s ever had.
It started with Dazai taking the day off of work so he’d be able to go on a walk with his dog, making sure the ginger realized that he didn’t need to be on a leash while they were outside was his biggest priority. Then, he did everything Chuuya wanted to do; watch The Boy and the Puppy for the millionth time, get some nice wine that has his wallet running dry, and buy this ridiculous hat.
The final thing on his to-do list is to serve Chuuya his very first steak which sucked up whatever bit of change he had left in his pockets because nothing had to be cheap with the slug. His acquired taste for expensive things came from his previous owner which, although terrible, was extremely rich and occasionally allowed the slug some of the luxury.
This has been proven time and time again, but especially after buying such an expensive steak did he realize that taking care of a dog is not a task he can skimp out on.
“Happy birthday to you!” When he enters the living space, Dazai starts to sing as Chuuya, already kneeling at the table, excessively swallows back drool at the smell of meat, “Happy birthday to you!”
The brunet takes a few more steps and carefully kneels down, making sure he doesn’t accidentally drop the plate, “Happy birthday my dear dog” — Chuuya slightly glares at him which he ignores it in favor of setting down the steak and sliding it over to the ginger — “happy birthday to you!”
They sit in silence for a minute with the older just watching as the candle’s flame flickers around while Dazai waits for him to do something. When he shows no sign of movement, the bandaged man settles on nudging the ginger.
“Go on,” He makes a ‘go on’ motion with his hands, “Blow out your candle and make a wish!”
Chuuya looks at him semi-confusedly until the brunet gestures with his hands again which finally gets his dog into action. When he sucks in to get enough air into his lungs, jaws open almost comically wide, Dazai can see the excess saliva pooling in the other’s mouth.
It’s a little cute how he slobbers, he thinks before backtracking. He’s supposed to hate dogs, especially unruly and gross ones like Chuuya, not have thoughts about their adorable behavior.
He’s suddenly met with a face full of carbon dioxide as the shorter aggressively blows away the flame, almost knocking down the candle in the process. He quickly claps to let the ginger know that he did a good job. The whole day would be ruined if his dog managed to think that he was in trouble.
“What did you wish for?” He says after a moment.
“I wished—”
“Wait!” Dazai hurriedly clasps his hands over his ears, “Don’t tell me!”
The dog raises an eyebrow, but otherwise remains silent. It was very rare that he got to see Chuuya’s actual personality, let alone words that were intended to tease the brunet. That’s fine, they’ll just have to keep working on it.
He sees how the ginger turns his attention back to the food, staring at the plate in front of him, thickly swallowing every so often, and licking his lips with interest.
Dazai smiles to help encourage his slug to start eating. When that doesn’t work he begins to softly command with words, “You can start eating now, it’s okay.”
Although useful, he doesn’t like to order his dog into doing anything, especially for basic tasks like eating. But even if it feels wrong to enforce the way Chuuya was trained to wait for instructions, today is not the day to stress the other out with different “rules.”
He’d make sure the shorter knew he could eat without another’s dictation on a different day because tonight is all about keeping Chuuya happy.
When his slug leans down to the steak in front of him, ready to stuff it into his mouth, Dazai realizes the crucial mistake he made. He forgot to take out the candle!
Chuuya, trying to be as obedient as possible, might take his words too literally and eat the wax placed on top. It would be a disaster of coaxing the dog into spitting his food out, which he had been dying to eat, and attempting to explain what he was doing without upsetting the ginger.
Instead, he, not thinking rationally, reaches across the table to pick up the candle before Chuuya can eat it. He sees the moment his dog’s ears flatten onto his head, the way he bares his teeth. He recognizes how it must look like he’s taking away the ginger’s food as Chuuya opens his jaw, snapping down on the hand in front of him, teeth sinking in between bones and tendons.
It’s a weird feeling at first, something he’s unable to describe, until the pain begins pulsing through his nerves up into his arm.
Dazai cries out in pain, trying to pull away, but only ends up making things worse, “Fuck!”
The second his dog hears the curse, he freezes. It must take Chuuya a moment to realize what he’s done, and when he does, he detaches his mouth immediately. Fearful, two-toned eyes meet brown ones.
Dazai conceals his pain underneath a calm façade which usually works on everyone, but, for some reason, it fails to placate his dog. It may be a result of their understanding of one another. The same understanding they’ve had since the moment they locked eyes. Or maybe it’s a skill that the ginger learned during his time on the streets or in that good-for-nothing-man’s house. It may be a combination of those two as well.
Upon seeing the brunet’s distress, Chuuya suddenly gets to his feet, almost knocking all of the contents off of the table and, before Dazai gets the chance to reach out, he runs out the door, having rushed as fast as he could to the exit.
It’s a little saddening to see his dog run away so clearly terrified of what might happen to him that it creates the sudden need to chase after his slug and comfort him. Just as he’s about to go do it, a throbbing pain from his palm interrupts his movements. Right, Chuuya bit him.
Dazai stares at his blood oozing from the bite mark and the way it streams to his fingertips if he angles his hand downwards. It reminds him of all the scars along his arms, all the nights he had laid on corten steel trying to squeeze more of the red substance out of scattered cuts until he passed out.
He shakes the thoughts out of his head, deciding that he needs to deal with the injury before finding the ginger. It might cause him more distress if he shows up with the wound his slug was worrying about in the first place, it has nothing to do with the triggering liquid.
He takes a short walk to the closet, bending over to grab a roll of bandages, then making his way to the hallway. He faces the kitchenette, turning on the sink and washing his wound as he’s not entirely sure if Chuuya’s saliva is safe for lesions. Maybe if he could taste it—
He stops that thought before it can fully form.
The process of wrapping his hand is quick, it needed to be when he was in the mafia and he’s gained enough practice with his other body parts by now that a simple palm is no problem.
He doesn’t wait any longer in heading down the hall. Opening the door and stepping out the room, he shuts it quietly so as to not disrupt any other members who were asleep, especially his work partner as it would be such a pain to deal with a rowdy Kunikida in the morning.
He’s almost hoping to catch sight of flaming orange hair, but as expected, he only saw the gentle scenery of the agency’s dormitory. The sigh he emits is soft while he travels down the steps, hurriedly walking through the streets and sidewalks of Yokohama in an attempt to find his little dog.
Dazai ends up stopping in front of an alleyway he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget as the place where he met Chuuya.
It was about a month ago when he heard rustling coming from an alley. Despite how late he was for work that day, he investigated the noise and saw a hybrid lying inside of the tunnel. At first, when he saw that it was a dog -hybrid making those peculiar noises, he wanted to turn away and pretend he had never seen such a thing, but something compelled him to step closer that night. Whether it was the all too familiar pained whines he heard or the way Odasaku’s last wish was running through mind on loop, he’s not entirely sure. But he likes to think it was because of the former, that he was being a good person and was able to save someone.
He’d taken Chuuya home and stitched up the stab wound that he had somehow received. The ginger still hadn’t told him how it happened, only avoiding the question whenever it was brought up, but he was told how that alley used to be some sort of refuge to Chuuya.
It’s weird to think he had almost killed himself that night. He remembers the pill bottle next to his futon, waiting to be opened. The only reason he hadn’t was because of the newfound stray he picked up.
Dazai blinks, forcing himself to stop thinking about the past and to focus on the situation at hand: proving to the ginger that he has no reason to fear the brunet.
He peeks into the alley first, seeing that the dog had made itself a little home near a few boxes, before he calmly walks over to where Chuuya’s sitting, frown deepening once he notices pinned-back ears and the terrified look on the ginger's face.
He then kneels down in front of the hybrid, hands moving up to show there’s nothing in them that could hurt him. This is, apparently, the wrong decision to make when his dog immediately starts growling.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” He calmly states, attempting to placate the man. His slug seems like he didn’t listen to his words and only continues on with the rumbling, showing his teeth off to appear more threatening.
Dazai sighs and, ignoring the other’s growling, pulls Chuuya into a tight embrace. He makes sure it’s strong enough that his dog won’t be able to escape, but not strong enough to hurt him.
“Chuuya,” He brings a hand up to run his fingers though ginger locks, “I’m not going to punish you.”
The shorter’s growling fades out as he opts to struggle in the brunet’s grasp instead.
Dazai tries to soothe him again, “Calm down. I promise that I won’t hurt you,” He continues to pet Chuuya’s head, occasionally scratching the scalp or behind his dog’s ears, giving the ginger a moment to process the information.
He eventually stops squirming and lays into the taller’s arms, appearing to finally give into Dazai’s words with the way honesty bleeds into them.
“Are you ready to go back and finish dinner?” He asks when he’s sure it won’t scare the other.
After a second, the slug carries on the conversation, “Am I still allowed to have the steak?”
Dazai smiles at the syllables being produced. It means that Chuuya is feeling better already, “Of course! Did my doggy really think I’d take it away from him?”
The ginger slightly pushes away from Dazai’s grasp, the younger allowing him the space if he wants it. They stare into each other's eyes until his slug breaks the silence, “But I bit you?”
“It didn’t even hurt.”
“I tasted your blood.”
A long pause, “Okay, okay. You caught me,” — he sighs — “It hurt a little bit.”
Chuuya raises an eyebrow at the brunet.
“How much I was hurting doesn’t even matter,” Dazai begins, “All that’s important now is if Chuuya wants to take a bite of his steak.”
The ginger slightly smiles before pressing his face into the crook of the other’s neck, “Yeah, I’d like that,” Then, in a quiet voice that even Dazai almost missed, “You stupid mackerel.”
The brunet exaggerates a fake gasp, “Did my dog just make fun of me?”
He can feel the way Chuuya freezes in fear at doing something bad, and the way he loosens back up when an unbandaged hand rubs down his spine reassuringly.
“C’mon, up and at ‘em,” Dazai’s tone softens with what he says next, “Let's go home.”