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Missions abroad were always both Dazai and Chuuya’s least favorite. Having Yokohama close is always preferable.
Usually, the missions in other cities—or worse, countries—aren’t severe enough to need the assistance of Double Black, but every once in a while a particularly dangerous organization or ability user peeks their head in some distant place and Dazai and Chuuya have to take care of it.
Which is what gets them on the balcony of their hotel room, clothes stained with sweat and blood, that is only partially their own.
Each with a drink of their choice—Dazai with an entire bottle of whiskey and Chuuya with a single glass of wine (and the rest of the bottle on the nearby table, in case he wants to refill it).
Silence is rare between them, but every time it settles, it’s mellow. No snarky remarks or useless insults. Just comfort in each other’s presence in a way they aren’t able to experience often.
Dazai takes a long swing of his whiskey, before his eyes lock with Chuuya’s. Chuuya pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his coat, which was resting on the chair to his right. He takes a cigarette out and lights it without a word.
Just as wordlessly, he hands it over to Dazai after taking a drag. Dazai accepts and takes his own drag.
The smell of cigarettes starts to hang around them and mix with the distinct smell of alcohol.
Dazai hands Chuuya the cigarette back with a sigh.
Their eyes lock for another split second and Chuuya raises an eyebrow, asking Dazai what’s wrong with his eyes alone.
“The city’s really pretty,” Dazai answers, but not to the question he was asked.
And Chuuya doesn’t comment on it. “Ah. I guess so.”
The cigarette gets passed back to Dazai and then to Chuuya again, like clockwork. Silence settles between them for a few more minutes, before Chuuya breaks it, this time.
“Who should shower first?”
Dazai thinks it over for a moment before he shrugs. “You can go first, since you’re such a smelly dog.”
Chuuya rolls his eyes and nudges his arm, not really energetic enough to bite the bone and start bickering.
Dazai doesn’t insist, he’s pretty tired himself.
His eyes linger on the city below them again, lights shining all around and illuminating the darkness with bright colors. His eyes flicker up to Chuuya, standing right next to him, supporting himself on the railway with his elbows.
Chuuya digs inside his coat pockets for another cigarette, tossing the butt of the previous one out in the street.
Faint colors dance along his face, reflecting from the lights below. His eyes look brighter than they ever did, shining with dozens of colors—glowing and shimmering. It reminds Dazai of the waves of the ocean, how the moonlight reflects and controls the tide.
Before he knows it, Chuuya raises an eyebrow at him and hands him the cigarette.
“You okay?” he asks, a hint of suspicion in his voice.
Dazai’s cheeks bloom ever so slightly as he averts his gaze, and takes the cigarette from Chuuya’s hand. It must be the whiskey.
He’s awfully aware of the way their fingers brush against each other, awfully aware of the fact that Chuuya isn’t wearing his gloves.
Skin to skin contact for the briefest of moments, before it’s gone and all he’s left with is a parchment-like texture. And a spark.
A spark, jumping around on his skin where his hand touched Chuuya’s. A small electric shock that he can feel deep in his bones, traveling through his entire body and settling right in his chest.
Dazai takes a drag from the cigarette and struggles not to cough as he feels his hand tremble. He must’ve drank too much, he should’ve been more careful, dammit.
Dazai gives Chuuya the cigarette back, while Chuuya reaches for his wine glass on the table. He takes a small sip, then looks up, above them, at the stars. A pearlescent glow reflects in his eyes, making them even brighter and Dazai feels his breath catch in his throat.
Chuuya’s lips are glossy from wine and shining in the moonlight’s glow, his face is littered with color—bringing out his barely-visible freckles as light reflects on them. His eyes look kaleidoscopic, all sorts of colors bounce on them and they shine brighter than the sun.
Dazai wonders if the sun would set in embarrassment upon seeing the ethereal glow of Chuuya if it was present in the sky right this moment. If it would hide itself behind clouds or run deep below the horizon line until it gets to the other side of the world and doesn’t have to deal with the fact that a mortal outmatched its beauty.
He wonders if that’s why it feels safe enough to slip away and let the night take over, because it’s aware Chuuya’s there to replace the light it would have provided the Earth.
Without realizing it, his hold on the whiskey bottle starts to loosen, until it’s entirely gone. The bottle slips out of his hand and starts falling into the busy streets below. It meets the ground with an audible crack that snaps Dazai out of the mysterious trance Chuuya’s managed to put him in.
“Shit,” he curses under his breath.
Chuuya snorts, taking another sip of wine as his eyes meet Dazai’s. “How did you even manage that…?”
“Oh, shut it. I was distracted.”
Chuuya hums with interest, holding the cigarette for Dazai to take again. “Oh? Distracted by what?”
Dazai takes the cigarette from Chuuya’s hand and brings it to his lips in an attempt to swallow down the response that almost passed his lips.
By you.
Two words. Two entirely dangerous words that wouldn’t have ever dared to form in his brain if he wasn’t tipsy. One of them should really get to that shower, spend time apart before Dazai loses his goddamn mind to whiskey and the personification sunlight, in the middle of the night.
He breathes out smoke, before settling on a much more appropriate response. “Nothing your tiny dog brain should be concerned with.”
Chuuya sighs, unimpressed by his partner’s response as he takes the last drag and extinguishes the cigarette on the railing. He throws the butt out in the streets below again.
Dazai can only wonder what mess they made over there, cigarette butts and a half full whiskey bottle shattered all over the pavement.
Chuuya pushes himself off the railing and chugs the last of his wine. “Well, I’m gonna go shower. Please don’t throw my wine bottle off the balcony.”
For once the universe has listened to Dazai’s prayers and Chuuya’s leaving, just as he hoped. Except he’s a little more than tipsy and he isn’t thinking clearly and he never really meant every single wish he made in his head.
Maybe some unfortunate shooting star was falling somewhere right as he wished for Chuuya to go, and the poor thing misunderstood it as truth.
“Wait-” Dazai says before he’s able to stop himself. His heart speaks over his brain, desire over rationality. Which is something that doesn’t happen to Dazai often, if at all. Just what has Chuuya done to him?
“Hm?” Chuuya questions, coat resting on his arm.
Dazai doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to do now, because he didn’t mean to say that, dammit.
“Nothing,” he mumbles. “You can go.”
Chuuya groans in exasperation. “Just what’s up with you tonight? You’ve been acting really weird,” he says, leaning on the table, using his hand as support. “If you wanna shower first you can just say so, you know.”
Of course that’s what Chuuya thinks the problem is. And heck, it would’ve been a smart move to go along with that and get himself an excuse that's actually decently plausible.
But before that realization settles in his brain, it’s already too late. He snorts and murmurs, “It’s not that.” like the dumbass he is.
“Then what is it?” Chuuya sighs.
Dazai’s gaze adverts to him again and their eyes meet for what feels like the millionth time. In spite of that, Dazai still feels like his soul is being cracked open. He still feels a familiar warmth spread through his veins and a peculiar adoration for a specific shade of blue.
Dazai’s breath hitches in his throat. Chuuya has no damn right being this pretty. He has no right to have enchanting blue eyes or fiery red hair or those damn glossy lips that Dazai desperately wants to know.
He can already feel a hint of wine on his tongue, despite having drank none. A very distant memory of the last time he drank wine to piss Chuuya off and a craving to taste the one on Chuuya’s lips.
Chuuya takes a deep breath, and the sound is so loud in Dazai’s ears that it’s a little uneasy. He feels dizzy, all too dizzy. Part of him is glad that the whiskey bottle fell out of his hand because who knows what state he would’ve been in if he had drank any more. He can control his alcohol fairly well—but whiskey combined with the addicting drug that is Chuuya Nakahara is bound to get him a little weak in the knees.
Chuuya’s looking at him, and he’s looking at Chuuya. It’s a silent conversation, an understanding beneath words, one they know all too well.
A secret meaning behind words spoken, or in this case, the lack of them.
Mahogany brown against cerulean blue, the city lights continue to flicker and dance below them.
The longer their eye contact holds, the dizzier Dazai becomes. It feels like Chuuya’s trying to see through him. Look into his eyes and see right into his soul. The eyes are a window to the soul, after all, aren’t they?
Maybe Dazai’s eyes have never been so expressive before, and Chuuya feels taken aback by all the raw emotion in them at this very moment. What are they telling him? In what way are they betraying Dazai and his attempts to keep all of this emotion to himself for the past few years?
Chuuya walks ever-so-slightly closer to him, and Dazai wishes nothing more but to either jump off this very balcony or pull Chuuya towards himself by his collar.
He should choose sometime soon, he has a feeling that time’s ticking.
And ticking it is, because Chuuya walks even closer.
Small careful steps at a time, like he’s approaching a stray cat that threatens to run away any second. And maybe that’s exactly what Dazai is right now, maybe he’ll flee and lock himself in the bathroom if Chuuya steps too abruptly.
Dazai’s hold on the railing tightens, knuckles turning white and his hand stinging from his grip on the metal.
Before he knows it, he gets lost in the blue ocean. Before he knows it, his breathing becomes ragged and shaky. Chuuya’s so close and he looks ethereal.
Dazai doesn’t think he’s ever been able to see his freckles so clearly. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this close to drowning before, despite all of his previous attempts to do so.
Involuntarily, he turns towards Chuuya. The city was never this captivating, the stars never glowed as brightly as Chuuya does. He finds that his thoughts jumble inside his head until they become completely incoherent. His mind has never been this empty before, it’s always been so full of predictions and plans for the future.
Always occupied with something, always scheming and planning.
Now, the only thing he’s focused on is Chuuya. Every thought that isn’t in regards to the boy in front of him drains away like sand through his fingers.
Chuuya is so close to him, Dazai can feel his breath on his lips. He can taste cigarettes and wine and sugary cereal that Dazai remembers Chuuya eating earlier today.
“Dazai?” Chuuya asks, quieter than a whisper. So quiet Dazai tastes the words more than he hears them. The taste of his own name from someone else's lips.
It tastes sweet, sweeter than he’s ever imagined Chuuya could say his name. And before he even fully registers the bizarre taste of his name, he tastes something even sweeter.
Rich as wine and bitter as cigarettes, a combination that shouldn’t work as well as it does but maybe it only does because it’s Chuuya. Chuuya’s lips press against his, soft and supple, light as a feather and addictive in all the ways Chuuya always is.
The touch lasts for no longer than a second before Chuuya pulls away.
A touch so delicate and light, Dazai wonders if he imagined it. And it would make more logical sense if he did, because a universe where Chuuya would willingly kiss Dazai isn’t a universe that should exist.
And really, it could’ve stopped there. Either of them could’ve pulled away and the other would have said absolutely nothing about it. Chuuya could leave to take his shower and Dazai would make a stupid, snarky comment when he got out and everything would be back to normal.
And that is what would’ve happened if Dazai was in his right mind—or if Chuuya didn’t drink as much wine as he did, probably.
But they’re both a little drunk on more than just alcohol. And Dazai just allowed himself to indulge in something that he’s been craving, but trying to push down ever since Chuuya first put the sole of his shoe against his chest.
So, like the lovesick fool he is, Dazai pulls Chuuya closer. He puts his hands around Chuuya’s hips and leans forward, making their lips touch again before they even had time to get an inch of distance between them.
Chuuya pushes back into him almost immediately, putting his hands on Dazai’s chest as he does so.
Dazai feels like he’s on fire. A distinct fog settled over his thoughts. He’s kissing Chuuya with all the longing he holds for him—with all the desire and need he’s felt for far too long.
Chuuya kisses him back feverishly, in a way Dazai couldn’t have imagined even in his darkest of fantasies. He kisses like he wants something, kisses like he feels even a fraction of what Dazai’s feeling.
The thought makes Dazai dizzy, but it seems entirely plausible when Chuuya’s pulling him closer like he’s scared he might pull away. When Chuuya’s hands tangle in his shirt so he can hold on to him.
Dazai’s hands tighten on Chuuya’s hips, unbelieving that he’s allowed to feel such perfection in his hands. He’s allowed to move his mouth and lick Chuuya’s bottom lip. He’s allowed to slip his tongue inside when Chuuya opens his mouth eagerly.
A strange, unexplainable feeling builds in his gut as the kiss continues. Liquid desire flows through Dazai’s veins and he wants so much more. So much more than he deserves, so much more than he’s sure Chuuya’s willing to give him.
Chuuya pulls away to catch his breath, panting harshly in a search for air. His hands stay on Dazai’s chest, still gripping the fabric of his shirt, so Dazai doesn’t move his own hands either.
Chuuya buries his head in Dazai’s shoulder, continuing to gasp for air as he closes his eyes tightly.
Dazai isn’t sure what he feels. Something close to what he can only describe as anxiety builds in his stomach. He can’t push it away—the fear of what Chuuya has to say about all this.
“You could’ve told me.”
Out of all the things he could’ve said in that exact moment, Dazai hadn’t been expecting that.
His hands twitch around Chuuya, tightening for just a second, reading like a question, a plea for clarification before he decides to speak up.
Chuuya snorts. “You could’ve told me you wanted this, idiot.”
Dazai sighs in relief, rolling his eyes. “And what was I supposed to say? ‘Oh Chuuya! You look so pretty when the moon shines on you and I’m drunk. Wanna make out?’”
Chuuya smirks into his shoulder, relaxing into it. “If that’s what you feel, yeah,” he says smugly, probably at Dazai calling him pretty. “I would’ve preferred it over you staring at me like you’re planning to murder me in my sleep tonight.”
“I was thinking of doing something completely different to you tonight, but sure.”
Chuuya raises an eyebrow as he tilts his head up from Dazai’s shoulder. “Oh?” is all he says, tone full of intrigue.
Dazai can’t believe he said that. He’s never drinking whiskey again.
“Maybe you should go take that shower now…” Dazai mumbles, trying to hide the embarrassment growing in his gut.
Chuuya fights back a snort, smirking in amusement. “Mhm. Okay,” he hums. “And would you like to join me, perhaps?”
Instead of replying, Dazai places a hand on Chuuya’s jaw and angles his face in a kiss. Chuuya hums in response, a little amusement seeping into it. He kisses Dazai back as he wraps his hands around Dazai’s neck.
They break apart moments later when Chuuya pulls away.
A smirk plastered on his face, amusement and intrigue clear in his azure eyes as he stares right into Dazai’s own. “Is that a yes?”
Dazai doesn’t break eye contact as much as he wants to. Dazai doesn’t feel intimidated—and much less by Chuuya, goddammit.
“It’s not a no,” he responds, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.
Chuuya chuckles. In a quick motion, he jumps and wraps his legs around Dazai’s waist. Dazai barely has time to catch him and put his hands under Chuuya’s thighs to keep him from falling.
He glares up at Chuuya, who simply gives him an innocent smile. “Then why don’t you lead the way?”
Dazai sighs, pressing a quick kiss to Chuuya’s lips as does so. “Okay,” he whispers as he starts walking towards the door.
Chuuya just hums.