Chapter Text
It was a common occurrence for Dazai to break into Chuuya’s apartment.
Over the past seven years, the executive had grown used to seeing Dazai sprawled out on his couch as if he owned the place, or maybe sitting on a stool in the kitchen, trying to solve an all-white jigsaw puzzle atop the dark wooden countertop. The bastard had weaseled his way into every other aspect of Chuuya’s life, so conquering his apartment didn’t come as much of a surprise.
Honestly, Chuuya had given up on kicking him out even before they started dating – if dating was the right word for their relationship. They were together, yes, but it was only occasionally romantic, and the sex (no matter how mind-blowing) was few and far between. Still, whatever it was, both Chuuya and Dazai were on board. Lovers, rivals, friends, foes, romantic, platonic – they were anything and everything but strangers. One soul in two bodies or whatever the poets said.
On the other hand, it was a much rarer occurrence for Chuuya to break into Dazai’s place.
But it happened, and even if there was something that could be done about it, Dazai would never stop him.
The sun had already dipped below the treeline, and a soft darkness swallowed Chuuya as he pushed open the window to Dazai’s room, crawling through the tight space. He had ripped out all the window screens ages ago, and Dazai was too lazy to have them replaced. Chuuya was grateful for that as he slipped inside, closing the window behind him and rolling his shoulders to stretch out his muscles. He did a whole lot of fuck all today, and his body ached from staying still.
Glancing around, he had a split-second panic attack seeing the state of Dazai’s room. Gone were the bottles of sake Chuuya could’ve sworn had melded into the carpeted floor and gone was the strong, pungent odor of alcohol that accompanied the bottles. For a moment, Chuuya thought he had broken into the wrong place, but his eyes caught sight of a framed photo on the tiny spruce table beside the tidied futon, and the smiling faces confirmed that he was in the right place. The table was cleaned off save for the photo, which Chuuya recognized as Ango, Oda, and a young Dazai Osamu in Lupin.
All in all, the place was clean, and Chuuya was impressed. He moved toward the door, planning on ransacking the kitchen to cook that bandaged bitch a proper meal, but alas, the faint sound of a gun's safety clicking off let Chuuya know that Dazai was in a pissy mood.
Probably because Chuuya hadn’t come to visit him in the past three days. Oops.
Grinning to himself, Chuuya shrugged off his outer coat and tossed it on Dazai’s futon. He unbuttoned his vest as he entered the living room, eyeing Dazai who lay on the ground with his legs on the couch and his back against the hardwood floor. His handgun was loose in his grasp, pointed up at the ceiling as he clicked the safety on and off to an imaginary beat.
“And finally, Chuuya arrives!” Dazai narrated, saturated with sarcasm. “I wonder what his excuse will be this time around. Will it be A) he was busy with work, B) he was waiting for me to go see him first, or C) he thought I killed myself! Submit your guesses now, folks, because it looks like the ginger mutt himself is ready to spe—” A shoe hit him in the face, and Dazai clicked the safety off once again. “Ow! Fuck, Chuuya! That hurt!”
Chuuya, the culprit, just laughed, tossing his other shoe at the obnoxious, fish-eyed freak. “Zip it, fuckhead. We got a new shipment this week and our guy who did the transaction paperwork killed himself—”
“A-ha!” Dazai exclaimed, kicking his feet up in the air. “For those of you at home who guessed option A, consider yourselves winners! Thank you for joining me on today’s episode of ‘My partner Chuuya sucks ass and licks balls, let’s see what other shit that cunt can pull!’ I’m your host, Dazai Osamu, and I’ll see you next time!”
Chuuya actually laughed at that one, and Dazai dropped his pissy tone to catch every note. He watched, almost entranced, as Chuuya walked over to him, kicking the gun from his hand and then sitting on the couch, right where Dazai’s feet had been resting. Damn Chuuya.
“That split second of you standing over me was the last time you’ll ever see me look up at you, short stack,” Dazai huffed. “You shoulda savored it.”
Chuuya snorted a laugh. “Oh shut the hell up, Dazai. You love it when I’m on top.”
The face Dazai made in a self-preservative attempt to not explode upon hearing Chuuya’s teasing innuendo was nothing short of hilarious. His whole face, even his ears and the exposed parts of his neck, burned an embarrassed, flustered red. His fingers twitched, too, and he let his legs flop back down on the couch — on Chuuya’s lap — to conserve energy.
“You’re an easy whore,” Chuuya taunted jokingly.
“Yeah? Well you’re a shameless slut.”
“You love it.”
“I don’t love anything.”
“That’s not what you said a couple nights ago when I was—”
“OKAYYY ENOUGH,” Dazai screamed, pulling his legs back and jumping to his feet. The blush had now taken over his whole head. “You’re the worst, Chuuya. The. Worst. First you don’t check up on me during my three-day meltdown, then you break into my apartment—”
Chuuya rolled his eyes. “You break into mine all the time. And how was I supposed to know you were having a meltdown?”
“Uh, vibes?! I don’t know! You should just know!” Dazai cried. “Anyway, then you start verbally railing me in the middle of my living room like a caveman! Have you no shame, Nakahara Chuuya?!”
“You’re ridiculous,” the executive chuckled. “And overdramatic.”
“And to top it all off!” Dazai continued, flopping on the couch beside his beloved uninvited guest. “You didn’t even comment on how pretty my place looks. I deep-cleaned, you asshole! I scrubbed!”
Chuuya laughed, pulling Dazai into his arms and kissing his forehead, adjusting them so their bodies slotted together perfectly on the couch. “There’s no need to bitch at me,” Chuuya said affectionately — because only Soukoku could make such a string of words sound affectionate. “Your place looks awesome. I’m impressed by how you got rid of the alcohol smell in your room. You did a great job.”
Dazai smiled, sighing into the crook of Chuuya’s neck. “Hard work and pixie dust,” he hummed. “I’m just awesome like that.”
Chuuya brushed Dazai’s bangs back and pressed another kiss to his forehead. “Eh, you’re alright,” he teased.
“Eat shit and die, firecracker.”
After a few more kisses, Dazai and Chuuya settled into their usual post-work, nighttime vibe. Heavy limbs and boneless cuddles with the occasional light-hearted insult. Every couple of minutes Chuuya would say he needed to get up and cook them a meal, but Dazai would whine and groan, protesting that he needed cuddle time to refill his battery. (Over the years, Chuuya had come to notice that his partner was extremely touch-starved, so he made it a point to take time out of his day to give him hugs or cuddles of some sort.)
Eventually, though, Dazai was satiated enough to quit his objections, letting Chuuya move to the kitchen and start on a simple meal for the two of them.
“What do you wanna do after we eat?” Dazai asked from his comfortable coffin (the couch).
“I dunno,” Chuuya replied.
Dazai frowned. He liked to plan ahead, even if it was only a few minutes ahead, and Chuuya made that very difficult. “Do you have any movies you wanna watch?”
“Nah.”
Goddamn that ginger bastard. Dazai sighed. “Are you tired?”
“Not really.”
Dazai fought the urge to scream. “Are you pent up? Do you wanna fuck?”
Chuuya considered it. “Eh, I’m kinda lazy right now. How about just to second base?”
Dazai nodded, though Chuuya couldn’t see it. “Okay. Sounds good.”
Twenty minutes later, Chuuya finished cooking, and he and Dazai ate in a comfortable silence. Afterward, they trudged to the bathroom to brush their teeth and then returned to the living room couch to run second base.
All was well until a sudden, thunderous banging echoed through the apartment. Both men turned towards the door, more curious than concerned, and answers to their questions followed swiftly after: an irate voice shouted from the other side and sounded an awful lot like Kunikida Doppo.
"Dazai, you motherfucker! Get your ass out here and explain yourself!"
The man in question sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes and slumping forward onto Chuuya. "Ah, the ever-punctual Kuni-kun. What could he possibly want now?"
Ignoring the continued banging and shouting, Dazai dragged Chuuya with him as he sprawled lazily across the couch, looking every bit the picture of nonchalance. Chuuya had no objections.
"I'm not going away, Dazai!" Kunikida's voice grew louder, more insistent. Moments later, the door clicked open (Kunikida likely used his ability to create a key), and in barged Dazai’s partner with a furious expression.
Dazai raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Kunikida-kun, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
Kunikida's eyes blazed with anger as he held up a picture on his phone. "Care to explain why Kenji has a head full of sloppy rainbow streaks? And why Kyouka’s is matching?!"
Chuuya burst out laughing, unable to contain himself. The image of the usually innocent Kenji sporting such a wild look was too much. Dazai, ever the picture of serenity, merely chuckled.
"I believe it's called 'self-expression.’ Besides, they look quite adorable, don't they?" Dazai said, still lounging.
Kunikida's face turned an impressive shade of red, and he pointed a trembling finger at Dazai. "Do you have any idea how fucking annoying you are?! You're going to pay for the salon to fix their hair or I’m going to crucify you, bastard!"
Dazai sighed melodramatically but reached into his pocket, pulling out a wad of cash. "Here, no need to get your precious little panties in a twist, my dear. This should cover it. Now, can we get back to our evening?"
Grumbling, Kunikida snatched the money and turned to leave – but not before giving Chuuya a stern look. "Make sure this idiot gets to bed on time. I’m tired of him coming in late and napping on the couch."
“Alright, man, whatever you say,” Chuuya chuckled.
As the door slammed shut behind Kunikida, Dazai erupted into laughter, burying his face into Chuuya’s collarbone.
Chuuya, however, was lost in thought, staring at the closed door. He had never seen Kunikida so riled up before. It was… well, it was kind of hot in a weird roundabout way.
Dazai paused, a grimace creeping onto his face. “Please don’t tell me Kuni-kun’s screaming made you pop a hard one.”
Chuuya punched him playfully. "Shut up, asshole. I’m just thinking.”
"Oh? Has my darling dog developed a crush?"
“The only thing getting crushed is gonna be your skull if you don’t cut the shit.”
“Use your thighs and I’m down for the ride.”
Chuuya flicked his forehead with enough force to make Dazai yelp like a puppy. "Whatever, you weirdo. It’s not my fault that guy is hot. I mean, look at him! Tall, thin, toned, beautiful hair, green eyes… C’mon, there’s no way I’m the first person to check him out."
“Of course you’re not.” Dazai's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Are you gonna pursue?"
Chuuya nodded, a smirk playing on his lips. "How about we make a bet out of it? Whichever one of us gets Kunikida to third base first wins."
Dazai leaned forward, intrigued. "And the loser?"
"A full day of following the winner’s orders."
Dazai extended his hand, a sly grin on his face. "You’re on, Chuuya. May the best man win."
Chuuya shook it, grinning like a madman. “Oh, I fucking plan on it.”
The dawn broke over Yokohama, painting the city in hues of gold and pink. For once, Dazai Osamu found himself awake and alert, the usual languid haze replaced by a peculiar sense of purpose. The challenge with Chuuya still fresh in his mind, he decided that today would be different. Today, he would make it to work on time.
As he dressed, he couldn't help but smirk at the thought of Kunikida's reaction. His partner's perpetual punctuality and dedication were the very traits that had always made him the perfect target for Dazai's mischief. Yet, there was something more—an undercurrent of respect that Dazai rarely acknowledged.
(Hopefully he’d die before he acknowledged it out loud.)
The morning air was crisp as Dazai walked through the bustling streets, the city slowly waking up around him. He arrived at the Armed Detective Agency just as the clock struck nine. The office was already alive with activity, but his timely arrival drew immediate attention.
Kunikida Doppo looked up from his desk, a mixture of surprise and skepticism etched across his features. His greenish-gray eyes, usually narrowed in disapproval whenever Dazai was concerned, widened slightly as he took in the sight.
“Well I’ll be damned,” he whispered under his breath. Kunikida called his partner’s name loud enough to startle Atsushi beside him, and Dazai responded by strolling over with his hands stuck in his pockets and a smile plastered on his face.
“Kunikida-kun, are you that excited to see me?” Dazai beamed, plopping down into the open chair to Kunikida’s left. The blond was too busy staring to be annoyed with how Dazai immediately started spinning himself.
“You’re actually on time,” Kunikida mused, his voice a blend of curiosity and disbelief. “Did you sleep at all? How about you go take a nap before starting any work–”
“Jeez, if I knew I’d be pampered like this I’d come to work on time every day,” Dazai laughed. “Relax, Kuni-kun, I’m here because I want to be. Before you burst a blood vessel, let me tell you I slept well, took a shower this morning, changed my bandages, ate breakfast, and brushed my teeth before leaving my apartment, so I’m doing fine.”
Kunikida’s stare was wide-eyed and open-mouthed. He adjusted his glasses, peering at Dazai as if trying to uncover the trick, but he was met with just two obnoxiously genuine honey-brown eyes. "I don't know what game you're playing,” Kunikida warned, “but I have to admit, it's… impressive. Good job, Dazai."
Before his partner could respond with a quip, Kunikida stood and headed towards the door, grabbing his ideals book on his way out. "Wait here," he instructed, his tone more intrigued than commanding. “I’ll be right back.”
Dazai watched him leave, a flutter of anticipation stirring in his chest. Had Kunikida always walked like the love child of a model and an assassin, or was that just for Dazai?
“Don’t be any more nice to him today,” Junichiro teased as he returned from his bathroom break. He and Kenji were heading out to work the details of a bank robbery, but apparently the ginger boy felt the need to give his easy-going two cents. “I don’t think Kunikida-san can take any more surprises today, not after Atsushi revealed that his tiger spit is antiseptic.”
“It’s just a fun fact!” Atsushi yelped, covering his face with his hands. “I wasn’t gonna use my spit to clean or anything, I just thought it was cool! It’s not my fault you guys don’t know how to enjoy fun facts!”
Junichiro laughed. “Sorry, tiger. You and your facts have lots of fun together. Kenji-kun and I are gonna head out. See ya!”
Atsushi said goodbye, still red in the face. Thankfully, Kunikida returned from his random, impromptu errand before Dazai could start teasing Atsushi’s fun facts, carrying two cups from the café below them. He placed one of them on Dazai's desk with a small, almost embarrassed smile.
"Caramel iced coffee," Kunikida said, his voice softer now. "You being here makes things brighter– I mean, easier, you know, the, uh, workload, since there’s more of us so–” He cleared his throat, pushing his glasses up on his nose as he hurried to sit down. “Your punctuality makes my life easier, so I thought I’d reward you with one of those disgustingly sweet drinks you like.” He handed the other cup to Atsushi, who had been watching the whole interaction with obvious confusion painted on his face. “I grabbed something for you, too, Atsushi-kun, though I don’t know your preferred order so it’s just hot chocolate.”
Atsushi took the drink with a blissful smile. “Thanks, Kunikida-san! I love hot chocolate.”
As the two fell into a boring conversation about the ingredients and origins of hot chocolate, Dazai sat absolutely silent in his seat, staring at the drink Kunikida got for him. The scent of caramel and cream wafted up through the lid, and Dazai knew for sure Kunikida ordered it just the way he liked: with a ridiculously small amount of coffee and way too much caramel and creamer.
It was Dazai’s favorite drink, though he could only remember indulging in it once in front of his partner. Had he even mentioned it was his favorite? Or was Kunikida just that good? Fuck, at this point, Dazai didn’t even care. The gesture was simple, but it carried a weight that struck him through the chest like Cupid’s arrow.
He muttered a thank you, but neither Kunikida nor Atsushi heard him over their nerdy conversation. Dazai had a habit of surrounding himself with dweebs, but he wasn’t about to complain, not when he wrapped himself in their chatter like a fluffy blanket and floated down a stream of sugary drinks and greenish-gray eyes.
Chuuya was going to flame him later tonight.
The sunlight filtered through the office windows, casting long shadows on the floor as Dazai sat at his desk, pen in hand and a determined look on his face. His iced coffee was ¾ of the way gone, and the atmosphere in the agency was subdued – because Dazai, the voice of the chaos, was quiet.
Unlike his usual days filled with half-hearted pranks and lackadaisical attempts at paperwork, today Dazai’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, and his heart was set on one goal: winning over Kunikida.
He hadn’t taken his little bet with Chuuya seriously, but something clicked in him when Kunikida brought him that drink. Third base be damned, Dazai was going to get this man’s hand in marriage.
(That was an exaggeration. He and Chuuya already agreed that marriage with anyone else was off the table. Their unconventional relationship was open, but not that open. And while a reconsideration of the matter was possible, Dazai didn’t feel that strongly about it just yet.)
Contrary to the optimistic belief of Kunikida, who glanced over at Dazai every now and then, probably to make sure the man was still breathing, Dazai was not writing much-needed summary notes on the lengthy case files. Instead, he was outlining his plan for the upcoming days, notebook filled with meticulous strategies and other variables to consider.
Each page was a testament to his newfound resolve, detailed outlines of how he would approach Kunikida, what he would say, and the little gestures that might make the strict and steadfast man see him in a different light. He wrote with an intensity that he rarely showed in his work, every word carefully considered. It was an artform.
Across the room, Ranpo Edogawa lounged in his chair, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He had been watching Dazai's unusual behavior with interest, his sharp eyes catching every furtive glance Dazai threw in Kunikida's direction, every thoughtful pause as he jotted down another note. When their eyes met, Ranpo gave Dazai a knowing smile, full of mischief and silent teasing.
What a goofy prick. Dazai rolled his eyes, smiling softly to himself as he zoned back in on his work.
As the minutes ticked by, Dazai lost himself in his plans. He scribbled down ideas for surprise coffee deliveries, small tokens of appreciation, and ways to subtly show Kunikida that he was more than the chaos he usually embodied. He even considered learning more about Kunikida's hobbies and interests, anything to bridge the gap between them.
A voice interrupted his thoughts, startling him. "Dazai, are you actually working or just pretending?" Kunikida's tone was stern, but there was a hint of curiosity beneath it.
Dazai quickly closed his notebook and looked up, a charming smile on his face. "Of course, Kunikida-kun. Can’t you tell? I’m turning over a new leaf!"
Kunikida raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Alright, sure. Let’s see how long this new leaf lasts.” He sighed, moving his glasses to rub his eye. “I appreciate you putting effort into your work. The agency relies on everyone doing their part, after all. But if this is just a setup for some ridiculous prank–”
“It’s not,” Ranpo chimed in, pulling the lollipop from his mouth with an obnoxious ‘ pop!’ “He’s straightening out his act for real, Kuni-kun. He wants to be on your good side so you’ll–”
“Ranpo! Don’t you have a date with your rival during our lunch break?” Dazai cut in, burning holes into Ranpo’s closed eyes. “You should get going so you aren’t late.”
Ranpo laughed, swinging his legs down from the desk they were resting on. “Good thinking, Dazai. I’ll go enjoy my lunch date, and I hope you enjoy yours, too. Bye-bye!”
Kunikida glanced between the two geniuses, his frown deepening. “You have a date, Dazai?” he blurted, clearly in disbelief. “What poor woman did you trick into dining with you?”
“You think too lowly of me, Kuni-cake,” Dazai sang. “Don’t worry your pretty little head.”
With that, Kunikida shook his head and returned his focus to his work, muttering about how obnoxious and humiliating that nickname was. Dazai watched him, his heart pounding. He tried to recall how it felt when he first started liking Chuuya. Was he this anxious?
(Answer: Yes, absolutely, probably even more so.)
Another hour passed them by, and in that time, Junichiro and Kenji returned, Ranpo left, and Kyouka headed back to Doctor Yosano’s office for her part-time mini-internship. When the clock struck twelve, Dazai sighed with relief. Any more sitting still and he would’ve considered early retirement.
As the office buzzed with the usual lunchtime chatter, Dazai approached Kunikida, who was neatly organizing his desk. Dazai cleared his throat, trying to sound casual – which was insane, because he always sounded casual. Too casual, many would say.
"Kunikida-kun, are you busy? Any plans for your lunch break?”
Kunikida sighed. “Would it matter either way?”
Dazai beamed. “Nope! How about we grab something to eat at that ramen place down the street? The one Yosano and Ranpo go to. It’ll be my treat," he suggested, flashing his most charming smile.
Kunikida looked up, a hint of surprise in his eyes. His glasses caught the light, making it hard for Dazai to read his expression. "Ramen? That's unexpected, coming from you," he said, his tone guarded but not unfriendly.
Dazai shrugged. “I like to spice things up.”
Kunikida’s smile was mouth-watering. “You’re ridiculous. Don’t you have a date to attend?”
“That’s what this whole interaction has been about,” Dazai teased. “Do keep up, Kuni-cake.”
Kunikida seemed to consider it, his eyes scanning Dazai's face for any sign of a joke. Just as he opened his mouth to respond, the roar of a motorcycle engine pierced the office's hum. Dazai turned just in time to see Chuuya Nakahara pull up outside, his bike gleaming under the midday sun.
Usually Dazai had to put extra effort into seeming upset when Chuuya showed up out of nowhere, but now, he was fighting himself to manage a smile. That dumb slug always had the worst timing.
Dazai's heart sank as Chuuya dismounted with his usual flair, an act that would usually make his breath hitch in his throat. (It still did, but the attraction was evenly matched with the dread.) In his hand was a bouquet of yellow and orange roses, vibrant and eye-catching, much like Chuuya himself. He disappeared into the cafe below the agency, and a moment later, he was on the agency’s floor, speaking with Haruno, the secretary, to be let in. He used Dazai’s name as an excuse to get in, since he knew that nobody would argue with a decision from Dazai.
Every step drew attention – including Kunikida’s attention, which Dazai loved as much as he hated. Was it amazing to see his partners admiring each other? Yes. But did Dazai want to lose this bet? Hell. Fucking. No.
Chuuya walked straight up to Kunikida, ignoring Dazai entirely. With a warm smile, he handed the bewildered Kunikida the bouquet. "Hey, Kunikida-kun," Chuuya said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "Thought you might like these. I know we aren’t close, but since we’re both partners of Dazai, I thought we should get to know each other better. Want to grab lunch and shit-talk him together?"
“You bastard,” Dazai hissed. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, chibi?”
“Zip it, sweetheart, the adults are talking,” Chuuya teased. He watched as Kunikida admired the bouquet, eyes sparkling. Grinning, Chuuya pushed his luck. “Do you think you can ride the bike, or should I call a car?”
Kunikida's eyes widened in surprise, but a genuine smile broke across his face. "Thank you, Chuuya. I think I’ll take my chances on your ride."
Dazai gasped, clutching his non-existent pearls. “Excuse me, you scoundrels! This is a detective agency! Have some decency!”
“You’re a drama queen,” Kunikida laughed. “I’ll see you after the lunch break, Dazai. I promise I’ll take you to that sushi place tomorrow if you show up on time again.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dazai groaned.
“And you better behave while I’m gone,” Kunikida warned.
Just to rub salt in the wound, Chuuya took out Dazai’s favorite candy bar, wrapped in an elegant ribbon, from his pocket, plucked an orange rose from the bouquet, and handed them both to Dazai with a mischievous grin. "Don't miss us too much, princess," Chuuya cooed.
As he watched the two walk away, hand-in-hand, Dazai peeled open his candy bar with a scowl borrowed from the devil. The moment he had hoped for was slipping away, and he couldn't help but feel defeated – which, for the record, was a feeling he had only felt one or two times before in all of his 22 years of life.
Atsushi Nakajima, who had been observing the scene with wide eyes, approached Dazai, trying to offer some comfort. "Don't worry, Dazai-san. Maybe Kunikida-san just prefers more straightforward people. You can always try again later."
Dazai chuckled, though it was tinged with bitterness. "Straightforward, huh? I guess I have to be a bit more like my darling hatrack."
Atsushi, not realizing the impact of his words, continued earnestly, "Yeah, and maybe it wouldn't hurt to be a little more productive at work, too. Kunikida-san really respects that."
Dazai raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming on his lips. "Anything else you want to scold me for? Since we’re here."
Atsushi blinked in confusion before realizing the unintended slight. "Oh! I didn't mean it like that! I'm sorry!"
But Dazai laughed, genuinely amused. "It's fine, Atsushi-kun, I’m only teasing,” he said. “And you know what? You’ve got a point. Maybe doing some work would help my noble cause.”
Atsushi grimaced. “Well, I guess shallow motivation is good enough.”
Dazai flicked his forehead before dropping back into his seat, revving up his work engines. As the afternoon wore on, he threw himself into his notes and reports with an intensity that surprised even him. His usual antics were set aside, replaced by a focus and determination that left his colleagues in awe.
When Kunikida and Chuuya returned from lunch, Dazai was deep in concentration, his pen moving swiftly across the paper. Kunikida paused by Dazai's desk, still holding the bouquet, and raised an eyebrow at the sight of his partner actually working. “You seem unusually focused today," Kunikida remarked, a hint of approval in his voice. "You’re doing a great job, I’m impressed. Keep up the good work, yeah?”
Dazai brain short-circuited. (Achievement unlocked: Praise kink.)
Chuuya Nakahara felt a surge of satisfaction as he and Kunikida left the bustling office, the midday sun warm on their backs. He glanced sideways at the taller man, who carried the bouquet of yellow and orange roses with a small, appreciative smile.
Chuuya had planned this lunch with more care than he'd let on; it wasn't every day he got to spend time with Kunikida outside of work, and he wanted to make it count.
Actually, this was his first time being alone with Kunikida. He hoped the guy wasn’t intimated or anything. Sure, Kunikida was a hell of a fighter, but Chuuya was quite literally the strongest ability user in all of Yokohama. And a mafia executive, which didn’t help the gentleman persona he was trying to embody.
Parked outside the agency, Chuuya’s sleek motorcycle glinted under the afternoon sun, a powerful machine that he would kill in order to protect (and has in the past, as a matter of fact). As they approached, Kunikida hesitated, eyeing the bike with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. "I've never ridden on one of these before," he admitted, his usual confidence wavering slightly.
Chuuya grinned, sensing an opportunity to impress. "Don't worry, I'll take it easy on you. Just hold on tight, and you'll be fine."
Kunikida took a deep breath, nodding. "Alright, but if we crash, I'm holding you responsible."
Chuuya chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Deal. Now, let's get you geared up."
He handed Kunikida a helmet, carefully adjusting the straps to ensure it fit snugly. Chuuya himself didn’t wear one, but he always brought it with him in case someone else (usually Dazai) would be joining him for a ride. Kunikida watched him with a cautious but trusting gaze, appreciating the attention to detail.
"Okay, first things first," Chuuya said, patting the seat. "Swing your leg over and sit down. I'll guide you."
Kunikida followed Chuuya's instructions, albeit a bit awkwardly. Chuuya steadied him with a firm hand on his arm, guiding him onto the bike. Once Kunikida was seated, Chuuya climbed on in front, the engine roaring to life beneath them.
"Put your arms around my waist and hold on," he instructed, voice steady and reassuring.
Kunikida hesitantly complied, his grip tentative at first. Chuuya felt the nervousness in Kunikida's hold and turned his head slightly, offering a comforting smile. "Trust me, you're safe."
With a final, deep breath, Kunikida tightened his grip, his body pressed close against Chuuya's back. Chuuya revved the engine, feeling a thrill of excitement. It wasn't every day he got to take someone like Kunikida for a ride.
As they pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, Kunikida's initial tension gradually eased. The wind rushed past them, the cityscape blurring as they picked up speed. Chuuya kept his promise, driving smoothly and ensuring that Kunikida felt secure.
The sushi place Chuuya brought them to wasn’t more than ten minutes away. It was a cozy spot with an inviting atmosphere, a stark contrast to the chaos of their usual days. As they settled into a booth near the window, Chuuya couldn't help but notice how the natural light softened Kunikida's features, highlighting the gentle lines of his face.
Dazai got to see this face every day? Fuck, Chuuya was envious as hell.
Kunikida set the roses gently on the table, his eyes reflecting a mix of curiosity and contentment. "This place is nice, Nakahara-kun. I haven't had sushi in a while."
“Just Chuuya is fine. Honorifics feel too formal for me.” Chuuya smiled, feeling a warmth in his chest. "Anyways, I figured you could use a break from all the stress. And besides, it's always fun to catch up and... maybe vent a little about Dazai."
Kunikida chuckled, a sound that made Chuuya's heart skip a beat. "I won't argue with that. He certainly knows how to keep things interesting."
As they perused the menu and placed their orders, Chuuya found himself relaxing more than he had in days. There was something about Kunikida's presence that was both calming and invigorating, a balance that Chuuya deeply appreciated.
Their conversation flowed easily, touching on work, recent cases, and mutual acquaintances. It wasn't long before the topic inevitably turned to Dazai.
Chuuya leaned back in his seat, his expression thoughtful. "If you haven’t caught on to my relationship with Dazai, I think now is a good time to clear the air. First, he and I are in an open relationship, so as long as we communicate with each other, pretty much anything goes as far as being with other people. As annoying, frustrating, screwed up, and exhausting as he can be, I love him more than anything else in my life, and I’m really grateful for everything you do to take care of him."
Kunikida looked up from his miso soup, surprise flickering in his eyes. "While I appreciate the compliment, I should be the one thanking you. I’ve seen quite a few sides of him. Goofy, funny, immature… and the scarier ones. Depressed, lethargic, dissociated. I’ve seen him shoot to kill way more times than necessary, and he does all of it like a zombie. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy working with him, and I think he’s an incredible human being, but it can be terrifying."
Chuuya’s heart swelled at the choice of words. Human being. He was so happy other people were starting to realize how human his Osamu was.
(Kunikida was revealing himself to be more and more valid as a marriage candidate.)
“Anyway, my point is,” Kunikida went on, “is that even though I’ve seen all those sides of him, the only time there’s really any life in his eyes is when he’s with you. Even if it’s disguised as hate, you make him feel alive, and I can’t thank you enough.”
Chuuya nodded, a blush crept up over his freckled face. "Thanks, that- that means a lot to me. Seriously, it does."
“Of course.”
Their food arrived, and for a while, they ate in comfortable silence, savoring the flavors and the peaceful moment. Chuuya couldn't help but steal glances at Kunikida, admiring the way he meticulously picked up each piece of sushi, the light catching in his glasses, the focused yet relaxed expression on his face.
Oh, Chuuya had it bad.
As they finished their meal, he felt a renewed sense of determination.
Chuuya leaned forward, his voice softening. "Just for the record, this doesn’t need to be a one-time thing. Anytime you need a break, or just someone to talk to... I'm your guy."
Kunikida studied Chuuya for a moment before nodding. "Alright, then it’s settled. We’ll have lunch together three days a week. I’ll email you my schedule, and you can see what days work best for you.”
Chuuya paused, processing. “Huh? Wait, wha–”
“And the same goes for you, by the way,” Kunikida continued, sharing a small, knowing smile. “We may not always see eye to eye, but I respect you. And I enjoy your company, more than you might realize."
Chuuya felt his heart skip a beat. This man was trying to make him faint like a schoolgirl, wasn’t he? Sly bastard. "Sundays, Mondays, and Thursdays are when I have the most freetime," Chuuya answered. “I’ll be at the agency at noon, so don’t keep me waiting, okay?”
“I would never.”
As they stood to leave, Chuuya couldn't resist one last playful jab, chuckling to himself. "So, how much dirt did we gather on Dazai today? Enough to last a week?"
Kunikida laughed. "More than enough, I think. But let's not give him too much grief. He did actually show up on time today."
Chuuya grinned, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the sun outside. "Fair enough. Maybe there's hope for my damsel in distress after all."