Archive of Our Own ^beta

Nakahara Chuuya may not want to admit it, but he’s small, alright. He is used to being among the smallest. People have learnt not to mock his height, though, because he’s not a Port Mafia executive for nothing: his height has nothing to do with how powerful he is.

However, right now, he’s even smaller than usual. As in, way smaller.

What the actual fuck.

No fucking way.

He shakes his head, moving around to escape the… blankets? covering him. It’s strange. His body feels different. It’s strange. Yokohama’s buildings look way bigger than usual. He looks around him, then realises the things he thought were blankets are actually his clothes. He gawks at his hat (the thing is now almost as big as him) and slowly, very slowly, looks at himself.

No. Fucking. Way.

The damn ability-user he was asked to apprehend has turned him into a cat.

Let’s get things right.

As a good Port Mafia executive, Chuuya accepted to take care of the troublemaker who’s been wreaking havoc in Yokohama for the past weeks. The police haven’t been able to do shit and, apparently, the merry little detectives shitty Dazai is a part of have still not decided to take care of this case. Whatever. It’s not like Chuuya needs them. His fellow subordinates have been turned into several animals already, and whatever ability this is, Chuuya is going to find the culprit and make it right.

Well. That was the plan.

As one would guess, it didn’t turn out exactly like that.

Let’s get things right.

Chuuya did find the ability-user responsible for turning Yokohama into the garden of a Disney princess, because, mind you, he’s smart. What he didn’t expect was the lady to be clever enough to manage to touch him. Next thing he knew, he woke up as a freaking cat.

He guesses some people would love being turned into a cat. Not him. Who the fuck is going to fill in his executive position? He has work to do and no time to lose.

That’s the only reason why he decided to look for the stinky mackerel: he needs his damn nullifying ability to get back to work (and arrest the damn witch) as quickly as possible.

Finding Dazai is easy. Chuuya knows the bastard well. So here he is, following the lazy asshole (who is most probably ditching work) as he trots airily through the city, humming a song and eating Takoyaki probably paid with money that’s not his. Matching his pace is more difficult in that form, but Chuuya does, and he has to meow a good dozen times before Dazai finally deigns to give him attention.

“Mh? Hello, you. Want some Takoyaki?”

Dazai beams and crouches down, showing him the octopus dumpling as if to give it to him. Instinctively, Chuuya sniffs it, foaming at the mouth. Takoyaki is good after all, sue him for—

“It’s all for me though!”

Dazai eats the Takoyaki ball in one bite, cheekily munching it right in front of Chuuya. The latter stays dumbly frozen, and, in the meantime, his former partner gets up, already moving away. Chuuya angrily follows him.

“Aw, you’re cute, you little orange cat, but I don’t want pets!” Dazai chirps as he waves him off. “Off you go!”

Growling, Chuuya keeps following him, tries to jump on him, to touch him in some damn way, but Dazai easily dodges him with a grimace and hurries back to the dorms of his damn Agency. Chuuya wouldn’t consider himself weak, even in a cat form, but Dazai has always been annoyingly talented at dodging his attacks. In the end, they both arrive at the Agency’s dorms, and Dazai slams the door right in front of Chuuya, making him jump – his whiskers twitch, his fur bristles, and he lets out an uncontrollable hiss.

Fuck this damn mackerel.

It’s the middle of the afternoon and Dazai Osamu feels content. He was able to leave work early (never mind Kunikida spam-calling him), he ate Takoyaki (with Atsushi’s money), and now he can peacefully relax on his bed, free of any bother.

“Mh-mmmh… Mmh-mhh…” he hums with a smile, wagging his head as he opens a magazine. “A nice day to— what the?!”

He screams, yelps and bounces away from his bed, eyes blown, when he notices a flying cat in front of his window. He calms down when he recognizes the orange cat from earlier. Oh, that’s only him… Wait. No. That’s still a fucking flying cat. What is happening now?

Never mind. He closes his curtains.

“Another nice day in a very normal city with nooo flying cat bothering me…”

He can faintly hear the cat’s hissing from outside, which means that the little ginger thing must be quite angry. Wait… Ginger. Dazai scrunches up his nose. That reminds him of the case the ADA just accepted from the police: a fortune-teller is turning into animals people who can’t pay her or come to complain once her predictions turn into catastrophes, or something like that. But there is just no way… Chuuya is richer than the entire ADA, he doesn’t need a fortune-teller. Ah, but if it’s about his subordinates…

“Seriously?” Dazai mumbles to himself with a pout. “Urgh…”

An orange cat floating in front of his window. Now that he thinks about it, the cat may have had blue eyes too. Yep… this is Chuuya, no doubt about it. Dazai sighs loudly and opens his curtains again. The cat – or, well, Chuuya – is still floating there, surrounded by the red glow of Tainted, and he hisses at him more angrily than ever when he sees him again. His fur is all ruffled up. Somehow, Dazai is not surprised that Chuuya would be a fluffy cat. Kinda cute…

“What are you doing here, Chuuya?” he flatly says as he finally opens his window.

Predictably, Chuuya uses his ability to try to jump on him. Predictably, Dazai dodges him. Chuuya lands somewhere in his bedroom.

“Did you think I would nullify this ability that easily?” Dazai mocks him. He dodges another jump. “No way! The hat rack being turned into a cat, that’s something I didn’t have on my bingo card this year!” Another dodged attack. “Ah, but a cat, really? She could’ve turned you into a slug for the joke, at least. How come you didn’t manage to escape her ability, by the way? You’ve truly lost your game, Chuu—”

He doesn’t succeed in avoiding the last attack. Chuuya manages to jump straight on his face: Dazai gets smothered by the fluffy fur of Chuuya’s tummy, and they both fall flat on the floor. With a whine, Dazai braces himself— he’s going to have Chuuya’s real tummy on his face soon, after all.

Except nothing happens.

“Mh?”

He blinks. Chuuya himself starts acting frantic, a nervous meowl escaping him as his ears flick backwards. He starts pawing at Dazai, at his face, as if it will magically work this time. Dazai groans and grabs him unceremoniously, holding him up in front of him.

“Stop it, you stupid slug, you see it’s not working.”

Chuuya hisses again at him and squirms violently, forcing Dazai to release him. He looks distressed. Which, admittedly, Dazai can understand: he’s confused too. Why isn’t his ability working…? Does that mean the fortune-teller turns people into animals without any ability? But how could she— He pauses, thinks again. No ability, yet magic.

“Witchcraft,” he mumbles to himself, holding his chin pensively.

Chuuya tilts his head in front of him. His tail is nervously wagging.

“Witchcraft,” Dazai repeats louder. “That’s not an ability, it’s witchcraft. That’s the only logical explanation as to why my nullifying ability doesn’t work on you.”

Chuuya deflates like a balloon. Even as a cat, Dazai is able to read his body language with his eyes closed: Chuuya is currently dejected, kind of desperate as to how he is supposed to turn back into a human as soon as possible. That is such a Chuuya thing. Of course the petite mafioso would want to turn back as soon as possible to overwork himself again. Dazai finds it stupid. If he were to be turned into a cat, he definitely wouldn’t want to turn back. How many chances do you have to enjoy life as a cat? Chuuya truly is an idiot.

“Aaah… I’ll tell the ADA, the others have started working on this case,” he sighs, annoyed. “You can stop looking like that, slug.”

Chuuya lowers his pretty furry head, ears low too, tail still, a pout on his cute little face. Dazai may dislike dogs, and he may not want any pets, but it would be a lie to say he doesn’t find cats cute. Well, except Chuuya is a dog in cat’s clothes, so it’s not exactly the same, but he supposes the illusion is here.

“Anyway, you can go, I’m gonna tell Ranpo and Kunikida,” he adds as he stands up. “Urgh, you’re ruining my day…”

He ignores Chuuya’s offended meowl and gets out again.

Chuuya looks at Dazai’s dorm with slight disgust.

It’s not like he expected the mackerel’s place to be clean. Hell, he most definitely expected it to be messy, and messy indeed it is; that doesn’t make it less disgusting for him. He also didn’t expect to have to potentially stay here longer than five minutes. He thought he would finally get to Dazai, touch him, turn back, exchange the usual jabs with his former partner, then be on his way to the Port Mafia and catch the damn witch who transformed him into a cat.

Witch.

More witch-like than anticipated.

Now, what exactly can he do? There’s nothing he can truly do as a cat. No paperwork, no talking, he still has his ability but he’s not sure how Tainted can truly help him in these conditions… He supposes he could fly above the city to try to locate the damn fortune-teller, but as long as the detectives don’t find a way to neutralise her, it’s useless and she’ll flee again.

He’s just stuck waiting.

He hates being stuck waiting.

Nevertheless, he doesn’t have a choice, so now the only thing left to do is choose where he’s going to wait. The better option is obviously to go back to the Port Mafia HQ and get someone like Kouyou to take care of him for the time being. The problem is that Chuuya dislikes not being able to do anything, so if he’s not even able to know how the investigation is going, he’s going to turn mad. He needs to stay informed. However, the ones now dealing with the investigation are the silly detectives from shitty Dazai’s Agency…

Really, now? Staying here? His whiskers twitch as he fights with himself.

Well, shitty Dazai already knows who he is and why he is here. He doubts any other member of the Armed Detective Agency would take care of a Port Mafia executive. Actually, he doesn’t really expect Dazai to take care of him either, but at least, he would let him stay. Probably. Chuuya will destroy his dorm should he refuse – he would feel too bad doing it to someone else, but Dazai? He doesn’t really give a shit about threatening him to do this.

This place is, in conclusion, the best he can stay at to remain informed while waiting to turn back.

He looks around him and a low growl bubbles in his throat. He’s going to have to force Dazai to clean this mess a bit, first.

“… What are you still doing here?”

Chuuya flicks his tail with annoyance in response. He is elegantly seated on Dazai’s bed, precisely the cleanest part of it, which Dazai obviously notices given the disdainful grimace on his face.

“I can’t help you, slug. You should leave.”

Chuuya meows imperatively. Dazai quirks a brow.

“Seriously?” he whines. “You’re a long-haired cat! Look, you’re already getting your ginger hair everywhere!”

Chuuya sniffs and turns his head petulantly, so as to clearly show that he doesn’t care. It’s not like he can help it. Besides, Dazai’s room is already messy, him complaining about Chuuya’s cat hair is for the whole sake of complaining. Chuuya is not about to let that get to him.

“I have nothing to feed you, you dumb cat,” Dazai continues, hands on his hips.

At that, Chuuya hisses, his ears flicking backwards as he shows his small fangs to Dazai. The latter doesn’t look impressed in the slightest.

“I’m not buying anything for you, slug. I’m broke anyway.” Figures, Chuuya deadpans internally. “You’re wasting both of our times!”

Chuuya glows red.

“… That’s a foul move.”

Chuuya starts floating.

“Fine!” Dazai accepts dramatically, throwing his hands up in the air. “Humpf, Kunikida would never leave me alone if my dorm gets destroyed…”

Chuuya’s whiskers twitch, pleased, and he decides to curl on Dazai’s futon to nap a little. Cat instincts naturally come to him. Behind him, he can faintly hear Dazai’s whining and complaining as he moves around his room, but Chuuya tunes him out and slips into a nice sleep. He hasn’t slept this well in a long time.

Living with Dazai turns out to be, as one would expect, something akin to hell.

The bastard, first of all, is too lazy to clean anything. The place is messy and only gets messier, and Chuuya has to hiss, growl, angrily meow and threaten to use Tainted for Dazai to actually start cleaning up a little. Well, to be fair, the place is clean enough; just enough for someone to live here without problems, but Chuuya has standards. Standards that the mackerel clearly doesn’t bother meeting. Well, not that Chuuya expected him to, since they are at his place, but still. Can’t he make an effort?

That’s not all, though, of course. The second thing that bothers Chuuya the most is the food. It’s not like Dazai not cooking is something new: despite being fairly decent at it when he really needs to, Dazai much prefers ordering take-out, and he doesn’t bother checking that this is a correct diet, obviously. Chuuya would happily let him ruin his health if that didn’t mean that he had to smell the same meals day after day, and also eat bad food day after day. At first, Dazai would share his meals with him, but Chuuya quickly grew tired of all the crab Dazai was eating, and Dazai ended up accepting to buy him special food when Chuuya puked all over his pillow (fair revenge in Chuuya’s book).

“I got something for Chuuya!”

That’s the third and last thing Chuuya cannot stand: Dazai’s fake attentions. Getting him something doesn’t usually mean it’s something Chuuya will like. Quite the contrary, actually.

“Tada! You must miss your hat, right? I found this hat for pets and I thought that a chibi hat for a chibi cat was fate.”

Chuuya’s eyes zero in on the pet accessory. Dazai has stuck a sticker on the small hat with ‘Hat-rack’ written on it. Hissing and scratching fill the room within the next seconds.

“You’ve been weird, lately,” Kunikida states suspiciously.

Atsushi lifts his head at the same time as Dazai does. His mentor eyes Kunikida innocently, tilting his head like he has absolutely no idea whatsoever of what his colleague might be talking about. Kunikida clicks his tongue and pushes his glasses up.

“You sigh more than usual. You seem both more tired and more relaxed. You actually do your work and ask for advance payment. You have scratches. You—oh my god.”

“Wrong conclusion,” Ranpo mutters in the background, but Kunikida’s not listening to him as his eyes widen.

“Don’t tell me you have a lover?”

Atsushi spits out the water he had just drunk (he apologises when Naomi lets out a faint ‘gross’, embarrassed). Next to him, Dazai looks at Kunikida rather impassibly, not bothered in the slightest by his coworker’s assumption.

“I am so touched that Kunikida cares so much about me,” he ends up purring, “but I’m afraid my lovers would never be that annoying.”

“Annoying?” Kunikida arches a brow. “What do you mean?”

“He picked up a cat,” Ranpo informs, eyes still glued to his Nintendo Switch.

“A cat? You? What? How do you take care of it? Do you even know how to take care of a cat? Since when have you even wanted pets? You—”

“Kunikidaaa do you have that little faith in me?” Dazai pouts exaggeratedly. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of a cat!”

An awkward silence fills the ADA. Atsushi takes a new sip of his water.

“I am!” Dazai insists, a bit offended. “I just don’t want to.”

“Then why do you, now?” Yosano asks with a deadpan expression.

“It’s confidential.”

“Hah?”

Dazai shrugs, in that annoying way of his where he says some things but doesn’t bother explaining them, much happier to let others get mad over not understanding. It works, of course, as it always does: Atsushi grimaces when he sees a vein pulsing on Kunikida’s temple, but the latter sucks in a deep breath to compose himself. Atsushi applauds him in his mind. Kunikida improves each day his ability to resist Dazai’s pranks and taunts. That’s impressive.

“… Alright. So you picked up a cat.”

“Wait,” Yosano interjects, a brow arched and a hand on the hip, “aren’t people getting turned into animals recently? What if you picked up a human?”

“I assure you that’s not the case. At best, my cat was initially a dog, that’s all I can say.”

Ranpo suddenly bursts into laughter at these words, as if he had understood some hidden joke, and Atsushi blinks rapidly, puzzled. He exchanges a glance with Kunikida and Yosano but they look equally lost: at least he’s not the only one confused.

“What is it, Ranpo?”

Their best detective doesn’t answer, still prey to his hilarity. At his desk, Dazai smiles peacefully, and Atsushi thinks absentmindedly that he’s rarely looked so fond.

Not being able to work sucks.

That’s Chuuya’s conclusion after several days spent at Dazai’s place. It feels like weeks have gone by. Even months – alright, no, that’s too dramatic. Still. He is bored to death. He cannot even drink wine or watch a good movie. He’s walked around the city, taking advantage of the open window (he forced Dazai to leave it open) to fly in and out, but he knows his city by heart and there’s just so much that he can do as a cat. Also because wandering around Yokohama makes him stressed: he notices mafiosi and is reminded of the load of work he isn’t able to do – even though he did manage to get a hold of Kouyou to let her know about his situation and that he’s okay.

Not being able to work sucks.

He’s not used to that. Hell, he works so much Kouyou has forced him to go on vacation several times already. A workaholic, she calls him. Even Mori told him to relax at some point. Well, now that he’s a cat, he relaxes for sure, but that’s just too much. He cannot do anything! No drinking, no movies, no games, nothing. The only pleasant thing of the day is when the sun hits Dazai’s window: taking a sunbath in cat form must be one of the greatest pleasures Chuuya has ever experienced, he’ll admit as much.

“I’m home, Chibi.”

Chuuya immediately lifts his pretty head, ears up and whiskers curling, alert. He quickly trots towards the door, a habit now – much like the habit Dazai already took to announce he’s home. His former partner lazily takes off his trench coat, his shoes, and puts down some grocery bag that Chuuya instantly approaches. He paws at it, opening it enough so he can see what’s inside.

Dazai snatches the bag away.

“Naughty cat,” Dazai claims, holding up a finger at Chuuya, who had immediately growled at him, fur all bristled. “It’s not polite to check bags like this!”

As if you ever gave a shit? Chuuya wants to hurl. The audacity of this man, he swears. Why does he even care about this infuriating beanpole in the first place?

“Besides, I found something great for you.”

Fuck no. What did he bring back this time?

“Tada!”

Dazai beams, resplendent as he shows Chuuya the object of his happiness. It’s a leash. A cat leash. It’s a fucking cat leash.

Chuuya will definitely kill him before turning back.

Living with Chuuya—well, with cat Chuuya, is an experience deeply annoying, in Dazai’s humble opinion, all the more that he’s starting to get used to it and to like it. He obviously won’t ever admit how much he loves Chuuya’s cat form, but can you blame him?

Chuuya is so fluffy.

Long-haired cat, very smooth fur (despite getting fucking everywhere), long and fluffy tail, long and fluffy ears, long and fluffy paws…! It would be even better if Dazai could freely pet him, to be honest. He hasn’t stepped so low that he would ask Chuuya to let him pet him, though – also because he’s quite sure it would earn him scratches on the face. No, he has to be clever. Hence why the best solution is always to rile Chuuya up, so the latter will threaten to use Tainted, so Dazai can have the excuse of nullifying his ability to hold him in his arms.

Perfect plan. If you forget Chuuya being so pissed off that he screeches and scratches like he’s being possessed. Almost perfect plan.

A low growl draws his attention, and he sighs, annoyed, just as he leaves his bathroom. He doesn’t wear bandages when he showers, and he doesn’t really care about Chuuya seeing him that bare: his former partner has seen way more and way worse. He goes to his kitchen, simple boxers on and his hair still damp, stops at the threshold and arches a brow when he sees Chuuya in front of his bowl, ears lowered and tail wagging with irritation. What now?

“Is the fish not to your liking, oh great cat gravity manipulator?” Dazai chants dramatically.

Chuuya glares at him. Expected, but Dazai remains unfazed. The little shit, though, doesn’t take his eyes off him as he smashes his bowl over. Dazai remains silent for a few seconds.

“… Y’know, I could just let you starve,” he points out. “Maybe that’s what you deserve.”

He purposely avoids Chuuya’s death glare. He can almost hear his voice shouting at him, all hoarse from how upset he is. Dazai kind of misses it. Instead, he walks in with a sigh and picks up the bowl and the stuff Chuuya smashed over, annoyed to have to clean it – which was most probably Chuuya’s goal anyway.

“What is it, though?” he ends up murmuring. “You don’t like the fish?”

Chuuya seems to calm down a bit. He meows lowly, comes closer, and rests just against Dazai’s leg; Dazai can fully feel the softness of his fur, and he swallows hard to resist petting his former partner – his partner, if you ask him. Chuuya paws at the fish weirdly, and Dazai somehow understands that he should look at the can the fish comes from: the expiration date passed. That explains things. Chuuya is enough at ease to throw tantrums when he notices this kind of stuff, uh…

“Got it, got it, I’ll buy some more,” he whines. “Urgh, can’t believe you make me work seriously…”

A sound between a purr and a sneeze answers him, and when Dazai narrows his eyes at Chuuya, the latter averts his gaze, ears flicking and whiskers twitching.

“Did you just mock me?”

Chuuya’s only answer is a cute meowl. Dazai is ashamed of the way that makes him flush.

It’s been around two weeks since Chuuya has begun staying at Dazai’s place. He kind of misses his own place, but he’s getting used to being here. Most of his days are filled with sleeping, which, alright, goes well with the fact that he is currently a cat, but stresses out his normal self. Speaking of sleeping, it’s the middle of the night: Dazai’s dorm has thin walls, so it’s easy to hear the nightlife sounds from inside. Drunk laughter, the soft roaring of cars, the hissing of wandering cats…

It’s all the more easy to hear what is going on inside the dorm. Chuuya had just taken a shit in the improvised litter Dazai made for him (since the bastard couldn’t be bothered to buy a real one), when his sensitive ears twitch at the sound of sheets moving. Fidgeting, restless sleep… He looks towards Dazai’s futon. Predictably, his former partner isn’t asleep, eyes wide open as he keeps turning in his bed, prey to an insomnia Chuuya has been aware of since their teenage years.

He knows Dazai has always had trouble sleeping well. Those past two weeks were fairly okay, though, and Chuuya mostly slept on a pillow put on a chair, since Dazai doesn’t have a couch.

He observes his insomniac ex-partner shifting on his futon, wide awake when he shouldn’t – it must be close to 3 AM, after all. He has work tomorrow. Not that he gets to work on time, Chuuya has seen as much, and that didn’t really surprise him, but still. He looks again at his insomniac ex-partner shifting on his futon and, slowly, an instinctive idea blooms in his mind. When he realises it, he doesn’t want to acknowledge that such an idea came from him for shitty Dazai, so he decides to blame it on his cat instincts. Surely that must be it.

He approaches slowly, until Dazai notices his presence by his side and stops his fidgeting, eyeing him with those owlish eyes of his, apparently confused.

“Chuuya?” he whispers in the dead of the night. “What is—”

Chuuya doesn’t let him continue. He smoothly gets on Dazai’s chest, drawing a surprised gasp out of his ex-partner, then starts pawing at him to get into a comfortable position. Dazai lets him. He looks dazed. Chuuya finally collapses on his torso, cozy, and a strong purr escapes him, making his entire body vibrate pleasantly.

He can sense Dazai freeze beneath him, but the latter doesn’t say anything, nor make him move. Instead, slowly, Dazai relaxes too; then his long fingers shyly find Chuuya’s head, scratching him between his ears, then below the chin, and Chuuya’s purrs grow even stronger. He even lets out a short and quick meowl, content, and Dazai starts fully petting him.

It’s… great, actually. Being petted is… It’s awesome.

They can still hear drunk laughter, the soft roaring of cars and the hissing of wandering cats, nightlife sounds faint and distant, lullabies amidst the dark, but the purring and the petting are what lull them both to sleep after a while.

“Did you hear about Port Mafia executive Nakahara’s disappearance?”

Curious, Atsushi lifts his head to eavesdrop the conversation. Kunikida is in front of Dazai’s desk, arms folded and waiting for his partner to answer. Atsushi guesses that Ranpo would have already made a snarky comment about how he has a lead, had he been here, but he isn’t today – he’s working with the police. So instead, Kunikida is questioning Dazai, who looks up at him with a bored expression.

“Why would I waste my time caring about the slug’s whereabouts?”

“You two know each other way too well,” Kunikida retorts. “You find the gravity manipulator every time and everywhere, and the same goes for him.”

“So?”

“Well… The Port Mafia warned us about his disappearance. You don’t know anything about it?”

“Kunikida…” Dazai straightens, frowning, crossing his arms and shaking his head in this dramatic manner of his. He should be about to pull up his fake glasses to finish his little show… ah, here they are. “You are falling in the Port Mafia’s trap!”

“What?”

“Yeah! Look at you, helping them! Since when do you help the Port Mafia?”

“Hum…” Kunikida holds his chin pensively, looking seriously shaken by the question. “But it’s about an executive… we can’t let an executive wander alone… if a Port Mafia executive is in trouble, that could mean trouble for all of us, so…”

“Kunikida, Kunikida.” Dazai shakes his head and sighs, like he’s utterly disappointed in his partner. He pats his shoulder dramatically. “It seems that they got you.”

“Wha… What do you mean?”

“Indeed, indeed… They truly got you. Ah! What are we gonna do? They got Kunikida wrapped around their finger…”

“Dazai? Dazai, what do you mean by that? What did they do?”

“Aaah, so sad… my partner…”

Crocodile tears in his eyes, Dazai stands up, walking away as he keeps muttering idiocies, followed by a stressed Kunikida who vainly tries to understand what he did wrong and how the Port Mafia may have tricked him. Atsushi sighs deeply. Oh, well… That’s for sure another one of Dazai’s schemes to trick Kunikida and get off of work early. His mentor truly is a lost cause.

“I’m home, Chibi.”

As he takes off his shoes and coat, Dazai notices the orange fur of Chuuya’s cat form appearing in a matter of seconds. His partner is prettily sitting in front of him, tail wrapped around his paws, waiting for him to fully get inside, and Dazai can’t help but smile. Even as a cat, Chuuya truly is his dog, eh? His smile widens at the thought – at least until he receives a random flying shoe in the face.

“Aw!”

Chuuya glares at him and Dazai pouts. Of course Chuuya would guess what he was thinking about.

“Aaaanyway, I wanna relax! Let’s watch a movie, Chibi.”

Immediately, Chuuya perks up, ears flicking happily as he hurries to go to Dazai’s futon. Dazai has to bite his cheeks not to giggle adoringly. Ah… He can’t lie anymore. Chuuya is way too cute. The fact that they’ve started to sleep together every night, Chuuya’s purrs working like a charm to put him to sleep, has greatly helped their relationship. Well, Dazai still pranks his partner and Chuuya still threatens to use – and uses – Tainted every now and then, but that’s usual for them.

“Let me sit, slug.” Chuuya lets out a low meow but does as he’s told. Dazai grabs his computer, rests a pillow against the wall so he can lean on it, and Chuuya quickly curls on his lap. “Alright, what to watch, mh…”

He scrolls among the list of movies available in the streaming platform he has pirated. Chuuya paws at the screen to make him stop on one, but Dazai easily ignores him, which earns him a flick of Chuuya’s tail.

“What? I’m not gonna watch a stupid French old movie.” Chuuya growls. A cute growl, though. Dazai bites his cheeks not to smile. “I said no, Chibi. You’ll watch your stupid movies once you’ve turned back. I won’t let you waste my precious time with your lack of taste.”

Alright. The hissing and the fight that followed should have been expected, but Dazai can’t find it in himself to regret what he said.

(They end up watching a Ghibli movie.)

After a bit over three weeks living with Dazai, Chuuya has come to the terrible conclusion that he actually likes it.

To be fair, that’s his fault. Had he never started their habit of sleeping together, Dazai would have never started petting him at each and every occasion, and he wouldn’t have melted in a daily life akin to cotton candy. It’s too late, now—how to resist? Dazai may be as annoying as ever, but he’s also as cute as ever, and Chuuya has trouble not wanting to purr and curl on his chest all day long. It’s absolutely terrible. He can’t believe he’s being that weak for the mackerel.

(Well. He’s always been kind of weak for the mackerel. That prompted many problems in his life, actually.)

“I just had a thought, Chibi.”

Since he can’t arch a brow, Chuuya tilts his head cutely. Dazai smiles at him from ear to ear. Alright, suspicious.

“Technically, you’re a stray cat, right? I picked you up in the streets.”

You didn’t pick me up since you were an asshole and I had to chase you here, Chuuya wants to say, but meows angrily instead. He’s quite certain Dazai knows what he meant, but, expectedly, his former partner merrily ignores him.

“So that means, since you were out and dirty—” Chuuya scowls at that – as best as he can as a cat, at least. “—you should be washed! So let’s take a bath together!”

Honestly? It’s a bit late, but that’s a legitimate idea. Chuuya agrees.

His cat instincts, though?

They most certainly disagree.

Dazai bursts into laughter when Chuuya finally gets into the water. It took him around twenty minutes, because he was stiff, and his fur would instinctively bristle each time he approached the water; he started pawing at the water, nose scrunched up, and all but screeched and meowled in distress when he put an entire paw in it. But now, he’s finally entirely in the bath, and Dazai obviously cannot hold back his laughter.

Chuuya is a long-haired cat: that makes it extremely funny.

“Don’t pout, Chibi, you look…” He laughs again, which earns him a low growl. “Well, you look very stupid, but it’s greatly entertaining!”

At that, Chuuya meows angrily again, and Dazai’s cheeks are starting to hurt with how much he’s laughing. Chuuya, fluffy Chuuya, looks all skinny and ridiculous now that he’s drenched in the bath. Dazai is bathing with him and he’s having the time of his life. Still: he makes an effort and washes both of them, tender and delicate, and he can tell that it soothes Chuuya a little as the cat lets himself be manoeuvred in the bath.

They have taken baths together in the past. When they were both teenagers, when intimacy wasn’t a luxury but a needed haven amidst the blood and violence; sharing baths and showers wasn’t sexual, but instead, it was a kind of tenderness they could allow themselves to show to the other, and Dazai cherishes those memories, however tainted this period may have been.

(That didn’t prevent him from checking Chuuya out at the time, but, you know. Priorities.)

He would have never thought the first bath he would take with Chuuya again would be with… a cat Chuuya. Well, he’s not exactly complaining: he may not admire Chuuya’s beautiful freckled and scarred body, but that is Chuuya nonetheless.

“Mh?” He tilts his head when he hears Chuuya meow lowly. The latter lifts his head, and his blue eyes are big and pouty – that makes Dazai chuckle. “Alriiight, let’s get out.”

He takes Chuuya with him and dries him with a towel, cackling at Chuuya’s furry head grimacing and at his fur becoming all messy. He looks extra cute like this.

“What a cute kitty,” Dazai coos, then laughs when Chuuya looks away, clearly embarrassed.

He dries himself too, and he feels on his skin the prickling sensation of Chuuya’s stare. That makes him smile. Perhaps he’s not the only one who missed bathing together and seeing the other’s bare body.

As the days go by, filled with sun and happiness, Chuuya comes to the conclusion that he’s going to miss all of this. Don’t get him wrong: he still wants to go back to work, he still wants to turn back, he still wants things to go back to normal. If the normal could still include some of this strange tenderness, though…

Chuuya purrs and rolls on the futon, stretching so Dazai can scratch his belly more easily. It’s just past noon. Dazai’s dorm basks in sunlight, and they both just ate, which means that they currently are in the pleasant dazed state of digestion. Dazai decided out of the blue to pet him like he’s his favourite plush, and Chuuya cannot even get annoyed at that: it’s too amazing. He loves those kisses, he loves those scratches, he loves those caresses, and he wants more, more, more—

When did he start liking to be taken care of like this?

It’s like Dazai tricked him.

(After being cursed by a witch, he’s being bewitched by a mackerel. He’s never living down this embarrassment.)

“You look so pleased, Chuuya,” Dazai chuckles, adoring and adorable. “You better pamper me too, mmh?”

A cute meowl, then more purrs. Dazai cackles and kisses his fluffy belly, before resting his cheek on top of it, closing his eyes as if to go to sleep. Chuuya watches him, admires him – he admires how the sun falls perfectly on his brown hair, making it shine with golden hues, and it looks like a summer painting. It’s beautiful. Dazai is beautiful.

Hazel eyes open, taking him aback. Dazai must sense it, because he smirks in that infuriatingly charming way he knows so well, and Chuuya flicks his tail, embarrassed. He’s been caught, right? Dazai is going to mock him again.

“Chibi,” Dazai murmurs instead, “Keep purring.”

The candid request surprises Chuuya. It also softens him: gentle, he relaxes again, and purrs easily come back to him. Dazai ends up really falling asleep on his belly, and feeling his regular breathing on his fur keeps Chuuya’s heart racing for a while.

At some point, Chuuya notices that Dazai ditches work more and more, and stays at home instead. To be completely frank, he doesn’t really mind – he gets to be petted more, to see Dazai more; a Dazai open and more tender than usual, bare and gentle; a Dazai who dares showing the sweetness he doesn’t believe he possesses, which makes Chuuya melt and fall hard.

If he had to be perfectly honest with himself, Chuuya knows he doesn’t need Dazai’s rare gentleness to love him. He’s been loving him – begrudgingly – since their teenage years, when his edges were sharp instead of rounder, when blood and violence were his language, and fluttering tenderness something they both would never acknowledge. Chuuya fell in love with the worst of Dazai when Dazai was at his worst; hence why this Dazai, softer, better, gentler, is like getting punched in the guts by love.

This is not pleasant, should you wonder.

He would very much like not to be in love with the mackerel. That’s something he’s been doomed to do since sixteen or seventeen years old, though, so it’s better to get angry at the guy he’s unfortunately in love with than at the love he can’t help but feel.

But, well.

Dazai is home more and more. Which, alright, Chuuya likes and doesn’t complain too much about. He’s suspicious, though: shouldn’t Dazai be at his shitty Agency, helping catch the damn witch who turned him into a cat in the first place? What is he doing here? Is he sabotaging the investigation so Chuuya has to stay longer in that form? … Knowing him, this could definitely happen. This happened, actually. Most probably.

“They’re gonna catch her soon,” Dazai answers his silent questions at some point. “I’m not that needed. After all, this isn’t an ability.”

True. Chuuya doesn’t push much further. Sometimes, he catches Dazai’s gaze: it’s shining and yearning, tainted by melancholy, and it’s unsettling to see the mackerel not hide his feelings for once. Chuuya tries to ignore how much that makes him feel things.

It’s been over a month since he started staying at Dazai’s place.

It’s been over a month since Chuuya started staying at his place, and Dazai has admittedly tried to make it last longer – as long as possible. He even got Ranpo’s help a bit, since his friend had understood since the beginning who the ‘cat he picked up’ was, but Ranpo cares more about his Super Deduction’s recognition than about Dazai’s undying love and pining, so this unspoken alliance was never meant to get him very far. As usual in life, good things always come to an end.

For Dazai, this specific good thing comes to an end on a Wednesday. The sun is up too early for anyone’s sake, drowning his dorm in too much light at barely six in the morning, and Dazai wakes up too easily for his liking. That is until he notices that the weight on his chest that he grew used to – furry and curled up, normally – is way bigger and different that it should. He slowly lowers his eyes.

Ethereally illuminated by the morning light, sun-kissed skin glistening, Chuuya is sleeping half on top of him, lightly snoring instead of purring. Rays of sun glide on his naked skin, highlighting his freckles like glimmers on a living canvas. Dazai holds his breath.

Oh.

It’s quite something to wake up next to a sight that belongs in museums. Dazai loves and hates the way it makes his heart pound frenetically, erratically, as if he had never seen a naked Chuuya before. He has. He even remembers it well.

It’s been so long, though…

He doesn’t move an inch for the next hour, owlishly staring at Chuuya, as if he is trying to commit to memory every mole, every freckle, every breath his partner may utter. As precise as a clock, Chuuya begins shifting around seven o’clock, scrunching up his nose and grumbling in his sleep. His red locks are messily scattered on the futon, and Dazai holds himself back from rearranging them. That way, he’s perfectly able to see it when Chuuya groggily opens his eyes.

“Mmh…?”

Chuuya looks at him through half-lidded eyes. Instinctively, he snuggles closer, sighing contently against Dazai’s collarbones, without immediately realising the difference. Dazai can’t help but nuzzle his nose in Chuuya’s messy bed hair, and his arms naturally find Chuuya’s waist, grazing his scarred skin with satisfaction. That, however, seems to awake Chuuya more, and to make him realise what is going on.

“The fu—”

Chuuya gasps when he hears himself talk, and he abruptly pushes himself up, aghast, before looking at himself. His mouth falls open. Lips pinched, Dazai doesn’t once take his eyes off him, carefully waiting for Chuuya to speak first.

“Holy fucking shit.”

Dazai rolls his eyes. Of course the slug would swear first thing upon turning back. He’s unbearable.

“Wait… Where were you touching earlier, hah? And why didn’t you wake me up?!” Chuuya snarls as he pushes Dazai off his futon.

Not like he resisted anyway. Dazai lazily lets himself be kicked and pouts, covering himself with the blankets so Chuuya would stay naked – serves him right.

“I had just woken up!” he lies.

“Liar!” Chuuya immediately calls him out.

Alright. Fair. Not that he expected Chuuya to fall for his lie anyway.

“Humpf, you were cuter as a cat,” he mumbles childishly instead, curling up in his blankets.

Pissed, Chuuya kicks him on the butt, then he stands up and angrily paces around before stopping in front of Dazai’s wardrobe. Eyes peeking from his blankets, Dazai looks at him, following hungrily the Greek curves of his body. He missed that ass.

“I’m stealing your clothes for the day,” Chuuya states in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

Dazai simply hums in response. He could argue just to be annoying, but he admittedly doesn’t want to for once: the pleasant idea of seeing Chuuya in his clothes easily overcomes his desire to be a little shit. That doesn’t happen often, but it does sometimes.

Expectedly, Chuuya is drowning in Dazai’s clothes and he cusses at them, annoyed, while Dazai doesn’t make a single move to help him. Chuuya probably doesn’t expect him to in any case. Why would he help anyway? He doesn’t want Chuuya to leave. He didn’t even really want Chuuya to turn back – at least not now, not yet. They had finally found a sort of peace together, a situation where being tender didn’t need to happen in a roundabout way, and Dazai already misses it.

A burst of determination makes his chest swell, and he suddenly gets up, dropping his blankets to approach Chuuya.

“Do you really have to leave?” he meekly asks.

“Don’t you think I’ve been missing long enough?” Chuuya snaps back, before focusing on the clothes again. “Those fucking big pants…”

That’s because your waist is too small, Dazai thinks absentmindedly. A waist he held for a time way too short a bit earlier. Chuuya is so infuriating. One day more, one day less, what does it change? Why is he so eager to go back to work? Didn’t he like snuggling up in his arms all day long? Dazai is pretty sure he did, if his non-ending purrs were any indication. Yet here he is, fleeing already, as if the Port Mafia was dying…!

“Chibi isn’t needed as much as he thinks,” Dazai huffs. “And I have too much of your stupid cat food left. You have to eat it.”

Chuuya’s eyes zero in on him with a scrunched up grimace. Dazai holds his gaze petulantly.

“… Then I’ll take the food with me, shitty mackerel.”

Dazai instantly deflates like a balloon. Why does Chuuya always make his plans go to waste? He’s so annoying! Can’t he be a nice, obedient dog for once?

“The Port Mafia did just fine during your absence,” Dazai tries again, upset. “And I didn’t get my cuddles of the day.”

At that, Chuuya flushes and nudges him aside as he goes into the kitchen to grab the food Dazai had bought for his cat form.

“Are you fucking serious? I’m not a cat anymore! Why are you even trying to make me stay? I thought you wanted me out as soon as possible.”

Chuuya himself is lying. Chuuya himself knows everything slowly changed, especially since they started sleeping together. Really, he has some nerves to call him a liar when he does the same when it suits him. Conveniently, it mostly suits him when things are related to Dazai, or so it seems.

“Do you want to leave as soon as possible…?” Dazai clumsily attempts one last time.

Those words make Chuuya pause. The gravity manipulator, making the food float behind him, shoots an undecipherable glance at his former partner, but ends up not answering. Not really, at least.

“I need to go, mackerel.”

Awkwardly holding his pants, the food floating behind him, Chuuya storms out of Dazai’s dorm without adding anything else. Well, that’s certainly a predictable attitude coming from Chuuya, but Dazai is not less irritated. Still in his boxers, as upset as one can be, he goes back to his futon while complaining under his breath, then he grabs his blankets, wraps himself in them again, and resolves to sulk for the entire day. Never mind working. His idiotic former partner does it enough for the both of them anyway.

All day, Chuuya is lost in his thoughts. His colleagues and subordinates were all extremely happy to find him back, Kouyou tackled him into a hug, bombed him with questions, and even Akutagawa looked somewhat happy to see him again. That warmed Chuuya’s heart, alright, even though he avoided most questions, justifying himself by saying he had work to catch up to and that he’ll explain everything later. He needs to find an alibi quickly, because he certainly doesn’t want to have to say to everyone that he was turned into a cat and stayed at shitty Dazai’s place.

Dazai’s place.

All day, Chuuya is lost in his thoughts, and believe him: he tries not to. He occupies himself with all the work he hasn’t been able to do, and yet his thoughts always stray away towards the mackerel, towards their cuddly nights, towards his laugh, towards his bare body, and fuck. Uneasiness engulfs Chuuya’s whole body as he realises that he already misses all of this. But wouldn’t going back be weird? That’s not something they would do. Not something he would do.

He needs to find a pretext.

When he knocks at Dazai’s door in the evening, a spike of nervousness makes him twitch, and he wonders if he should use the few seconds he has left to activate Tainted and run away. Lazy steps come closer, a yawn, then the door opens and Chuuya freezes.

He’s not the only one who freezes, though.

“… Chuuya?”

Dazai gauges him strangely. Fair, Chuuya supposes. Though that doesn’t prevent him from flushing with embarrassment, hating to be perceived this sceptically. Does Dazai really have to look at him that way? It makes him a bit restless. He has to be assertive to get himself out of this situation.

“Here.”

This time, Dazai’s eyes narrow on the bottle of wine Chuuya is holding – and giving him.

“… I prefer whisky.”

“Shut the fuck up, this is a thank-you gift.”

“A thank-you gift?” Dazai scoffs a bit mockingly. “My, Chibi, what happened when you turned back? You must have—”

“Shut the hell up, mackerel.”

To fight off his embarrassment, Chuuya shoves him aside, inviting himself inside – not that Dazai really stops him: he easily steps aside and closes the door behind him. Chuuya can still feel his wary gaze on him, though. With pinched lips, Chuuya takes off his shoes, his jacket, his hat, then moves towards Dazai’s kitchen with the bottle in hand, before opening the cupboard like he owns the place. To be fair, after living here for a month and a half, he knows by heart where everything is.

Dazai follows him slowly, meek but suspicious. He’s wearing the same boxers that he had this morning, when Chuuya left, and only bothered to put on a shirt too. Did he not go to work? He doesn’t look like he did. Chuuya eyes him cautiously as he pours both of them a glass.

“The bag I left at your door,” he says. “It’s your clothes. Thanks.”

Dazai hums as he leans against the wall.

“Is that what the thank-you gift is for?”

Chuuya frowns, the blush crawling up his neck.

“Yeah, well, part of. It’s a thank-you gift for, uh, everything. I don’t wanna owe anything to you.”

“Naturally,” Dazai snickers.

He pushes himself up and comes closer, squinting at the wine with vague suspicion. Chuuya rolls his eyes and gives him the glass.

“Drink. I know you’ll like this one.”

“How would you know?”

“I know your fucking tastes, idiot.”

“Presumptuous. I might have tricked you into thinking you know my tastes. And my tastes may have changed. And you might—”

“Can you shut the fuck up for once in your life and just try it?”

“Mmmh…”

Apparently feeling magnanimous, Dazai does as he’s told: he sips the wine slowly once; then twice; then thrice. He keeps drinking and Chuuya feels a smug smirk tug at his lips. When Dazai notices it, he grimaces and shrugs before turning his back to him, going back to his futon.

“I guess it’s drinkable.”

“Yeah, guess so, fucker.” Chuuya takes his own glass and the bottle, then comes closer too. “Movie?”

Wordlessly, Dazai nods and sits down, putting his pillows against the wall so they can lean on them and comfortably watch the movie on Dazai’s computer. Chuuya thinks that his big couch with a TV would have been much better, but they are at Dazai’s place currently, and it’s somehow cozy and touching to reenact what they have done lots of times when Chuuya was turned into a cat. Which was still the case less than twenty-four hours ago.

They end up watching some unknown Italian movie that Chuuya has never heard of, all snuggled up against each other – by habit, perhaps. They whisper some jabs, elbowing each other in the ribs here and there, yet stay glued to the other, as if they were both afraid the evening would end. Chuuya is glad not to care that much about the movie, because he barely follows it: he soon ends up tipsy, and given that the bottle is emptied at some point, it looks like Dazai is a bit tipsy too.

As if to confirm his doubts, Dazai chooses this moment to nuzzle his nose in Chuuya’s hair (Chuuya had admittedly half dozed off on Dazai’s shoulder some minutes ago), then inhales his scent deeply. A spike of warmth runs through Chuuya’s entire body and he scoffs: “Did you just smell me?”

He can feel the bastard smile against his skull.

“Mmh… You stink.” Chuuya opens his mouth to protest, offended, but the fucker adds: “And you were fluffier as a cat…”

Chuuya thinks it’s fair when he pinches Dazai’s tummy, making him yelp in a high-pitched tone.

“Chibi’s abusing me!”

“I don’t stink! And of course I was fluffier as a cat, I had fur,” he grumbles.

“I could pet you and you could purr, it was so much better,” Dazai whines dramatically.

“Hey, being a human is way better than being a cat, alright?”

“As if,” Dazai huffs tauntingly.

“Cats can’t do a lot of things I can, actually.”

“You mean yapping? That’s for sure.”

Chuuya tries to punch him, but Dazai seems to have predicted it – of fucking course – and grabs his fist before, not letting him go as his hand glides on his skin to circle his wrist instead. Chuuya doesn’t bother resisting, too tipsy anyway. He gets more comfortable against Dazai, mind racing, heart ablaze, thoughts jostling within the borders of his head. He’s confident, but a hint of nervousness still makes him halt.

“No, you fucking idiot,” he finally answers.

Dazai sneers with a cheeky grin.

“Yeah, yeah, what can human Chuuya do better than cat Chuuya, hm? Enlighten me, Chibi, I’m falling asleep here.”

Being pissed off is the only thing Chuuya needs to stop doubting: he grabs Dazai’s collar with the hand whose wrist Dazai still holds, and pulls him down to meet his lips harshly. Dazai is so surprised that he opens his mouth, and Chuuya does not hesitate to take advantage of that, licking and nibbling his lips with warmth and hunger. A choked moan escapes Dazai as his hold on Chuuya’s wrist tightens. Wet sounds of humid kisses fill the room, Italian dialogues in the background, until the pillows slip and Dazai falls backwards, Chuuya on top of him. They both let out a startled noise.

Then Chuuya looks down: his hands are framing Dazai’s flushed face, his former partner rendered speechless by the kiss, eyes blown and pupils dilated. Panting, feeling flushed himself, Chuuya licks his lips at the sight. His throat is dry.

“… So?” he manages to grunt, voice hoarse. “A cat can’t do this, right?”

There’s a few seconds of silence, during which they keep looking at each other, lost in blue and hazel gazes; that is until Dazai frowns and abruptly grabs Chuuya by the nape. Chuuya blushes even more and squeaks when Dazai brutally brings him down and rolls on top of him, before kissing him breathless again. They both look like tomatoes for sure.

“Why the fuck did you do that?!” he sputters, bright red.

“Chuuya kissed me first!” Dazai scoffs, equally crimson.

“Well, yeah… because… uh…”

He looks away, unsure. He has no argument. Dazai chooses to kiss him again, and again, and again, and Chuuya is torn between dying of embarrassment with how flushed he is or laughing nervously at the situation. The only thing he’s sure of is that he wants Dazai to stay close.

They end up making out for the rest of the movie, and Chuuya isn’t quite sure how they end up half naked and extremely dishevelled by the end of it. He’s, however, not exactly surprised that their lips are all red and swollen. With a trembling sigh, he runs a hand through his tousled hair, then glances at Dazai and meets his gaze. His heart skips a beat.

“So…”

“You’re staying, right?” Dazai immediately says.

Chuuya bites his cheeks not to smile.

“… Of fucking course I’m staying here tonight, dumbass.”

“And tomorrow?”

Chuuya narrows his eyes at his former partner. The latter is looking at him owlishly, face blank, oddly determined in spite of his frantic tone. Chuuya shakes his head with a sigh and rubs his neck.

“In your stinky dorm? The hell. Why don’t we go to my place instead?”

Dazai deflates at the first part of his answer, then lights up again when he hears the latter part.

“You’d invite me to your place? On your own volition?”

His mischievous giggle almost makes Chuuya change his mind, but he just rolls his eyes and gives a flick between Dazai’s eyebrows, ignoring his cute little yelp.

“Well, yeah… If we’re together, my place’s way better.”

“Together?”

Chuuya pauses. Then he slowly looks at Dazai, who’s innocently rubbing the place where Chuuya gave him a flick, as if he really has no idea what Chuuya means. How does this motherfucker manage to be both the smartest and dumbest person I know? Chuuya grits his teeth and rubs his eyes, already tired.

“Yes, together. Don’t you wanna keep living together? Isn’t that what it’s all about?”

“Oh. Yeah. Doesn’t mean we’re really together, though.”

A vein pulses on Chuuya’s temple.

“Mackerel, one more fucking word coming out of your stupid mouth and I’m going back alone to my place.”

“So we’re really together?”

Chuuya thwacks him. Had Dazai not looked so happy, he would have maybe really stormed out. Alas, he’s quite weak to shitty Dazai, be it as a cat or a human. That prompted many problems in his life already, after all.

And, well. Good things too, apparently.