Work Text:
They’re 18 now, and Chuuya manages to pick up that his partner’s strange jokes have increased their volume lately. The way it starts is odd to say the least.
But since Chuuya doesn’t really have the best experience with friends (most being dead or borderline nonexistent), if you could even call Dazai a friend of his, he figures these kinds of jokes are normal and doesn’t think much about it. Even less considering it’s Dazai— an infamous weirdo.
“–That’s what makes me love you!”
“Ew—”
Chuuya pulls the trigger in silence, the man under him giving his last breath.
“Haha, if you shot me like that, I’d squirt all over my–”
“Nah.”
“That’s crazy, Chuuya! I swear my left hand teleported itself–”
“I don’t know how you don’t get game! If I were a girl I’d totally let you be inside me right now Nakahara Chuuya”
“Lol I need you”
Since Chuuya didn’t seem to notice – or care, at. all, Dazai keeps up with his jokes.
And then comes this fateful night, in which double black are stuck in a stakeout mission. Dazai shamelessly has his legs propped up over the car’s steering wheel, while Chuuya, sitting in the driver’s place (since his partner can’t drive for shit) is mindlessly bobbing his foot to no beat in particular. The boy was thankful of the peaceful silence from the past few moments, which he knew would eventually be broken by his essentially talkative coworker, doing so with a carefree question.
“Yo Chuuya, are you gay?”
Said boy turns to look at him, trying to find a sign of trickery on his partner’s face. There was none. He pauses, before frowning.
“Don’t ask me shit like that.”
Dazai places his head on his hand, humming. “Ahh~ I’m so sappy right now.. so heartfelt. Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove…”
Chuuya, very slowly, stiffly rotates his head at a 180° angle to look at the brunette beside him. The look of his face is of none but exhaustion. “The fuck are you on about this time–”
“...It is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken…”
“What,”
As Dazai speaks, he starts moving closer to Chuuya. Too close. “...But it is dangerously close to doing so when being frowned upon by society.. If perhaps I were a girl, there would be no aftertaste of regret, there would be no sin. Yanno, we could fuck without feelin’ guilty.”
Dazai stops his yapping and takes a good stare at Chuuya for exactly four seconds.
“...???”
1.
2.
3.
4.
Chuuya’s eyes are wide, and the next occurrences happen in slow-mo in Chuuya’s vision.
First, Dazai rushes to take a hold of Chuuya’s cheek.
Then, he watches as he tilts his head while diving in. Further. Dazai’s visible eye is closed shut, wrinkling weirdly around his face. Further. His dry lips with dead skin peeling off of them are pursed and making weird kissy noises while his brows are furrowed. Further. Overall, his expression looks like the handsome squidward face.
And Chuuya was panicking, taking his time to react, he came back to his senses a breath late and Dazai’s lips were already lightly touching his own–
–And then as an immediate reaction, he swung his fist and blew a punch directly to Dazai’s nose. He watched flustered as Dazai’s nose bled and he plopped unconscious on his seat like a sack of potatoes. He could feel his fist throbbing from the punch, and was so flustered he could only let out weird stutters as he flopped his hands around and moved them to cover his face. Chuuya was in fact so busy freaking out that he almost forgot his work partner who was still bleeding out unconscious, by his own hand no less, almost fucking dead.
He shrieked.
“AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH—!!!!!!!!!!!”
They both decided to never bring this up again.
(At least, not for a while, but Chuuya awaited the impending doom as Dazai plopped back up 4 years later as a detective, now more shameless than ever.)