Work Text:
Atsushi found himself juggling the multiple demands of his partner in crime's work. Akutagawa, still reeling from the horror of the common cold, leaving him barely able to think straight. As the weight of the situation bore down on him, Atsushi tried to maintain balance, but there was only so much he could manage in his overwhelmed state. At least his final job of the week was straightforward: keeping an eye on the boss and ensuring that no would-be assassins slipped past him.
So, he watched.
The rhythmic sound of fingers tapping on the keyboard filled the office, creating a steady backdrop against the otherwise tense atmosphere. Dazai, with one eye obscured by a white cloth, shifted his focus between a stack of papers and the glowing screen before him.
He raised a hand to the intercom button, his voice steady but strained.
"Gin, can you bring me the CCR file?"
There was no immediate response, but the door swung open moments later to reveal his partner’s sister, Gin, balancing a stack of papers under her arms. Atsushi felt a sense of relief wash over him. He could do this. He needed to stay focused and awake.
He settled into a plush chair in the corner of the room, trying to find a comfortable position while keeping a watchful eye on the door. One by one, members of the organization entered and exited at their boss's orders, each interaction a reminder of the world buzzing just outside their immediate bubble.
But as the sun began to wane, casting long shadows across the room, fatigue crept in. Despite his efforts to remain vigilant, his eyes betrayed him, fluttering shut as he slumped over in the chair, a victim of exhaustion.
A door opened with a thud and closed with one.
"You're done," the red-haired man swooped in, each step thunderous.
"I still need to finish this contract for the committee," Dazai said, still engrossed in the papers in front of him.
"It wasn't question I was telling and while your at it take the brat with you,"
They both looked to the right. The white reaper was sitting in a comfy chair, his body hunched in on itself. His head was hanging loosely as a small amount of drool slipped out of his mouth—the man in black sighed endearingly.
Chuuya tilted his head towards the brat in question, "How long has he been sleep?"
"He comes in and out. I told him to switch with Akutagawa but he refused to bother him on his time off,"
Chuuya let out a hum of agreement. The executive pulled a chair in front of Dazai's desk. They settled into a comfortable silence.
"You…" Atsushi mumbled, breaking the silence. "Can't…. Have my tea on rice, Dazai," the youngest mumbled.
"Even in his sleep he isn't free of you," Chuuya knew the kid would have a stiff neck when he finally awakened.
"It's quite cute," his delicate smile said, a fleeting curve of his lips holding a quiet, unguarded grace—something rare for Dazai to express, let alone show.
"Yes, 'cute'—that's the word that comes to mind," Chuuya said with a smirk, idly playing with his car keys as he tossed his legs up onto the nearby chair.
"Dazai, you've been up here for 32 hours."
Dazai glanced over at Chuuya's legs, his expression indifferent, as if considering whether it was even worth acknowledging the intrusion. He said nothing, simply watching his executive make himself comfortable.
Chuuya sighed, "If not for you then for Atsushi. He's been working two jobs,"
Dazai rose from his seat and quietly approached his apprentice. With a rare gentleness, he placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder.
"It's time to go, kitty kat," Dazai murmured softly, his voice carrying just enough weight to stir the weretiger, though not quite enough to fully wake him. Atsushi mumbled incoherently, still lost in the haze of sleep.
Dazai sighed, shaking his apprentice's shoulder lightly. "I really don't want to carry you, Atsushi," he added with a playful edge, though the threat felt hollow, more like a quiet encouragement than a real warning.
Atsushi instinctively tried to roll away from the voice tugging him out of sleep, desperate to cling to the fading remnants of rest.
"Atsushi Nakajima," Dazai's deep, commanding voice cut through the haze. It demanded attention, sharp and unwavering.
Atsushi's eyes shot open. He bolted upright, standing at attention, though still groggy and disoriented. His body moved faster than his mind could catch up.
"Good, you're awake," Dazai purred, a hint of amusement lacing his tone.
Panic flashed across Atsushi's face. He scrambled to recover, realizing he shouldn't have been asleep. "I apologize, sir! It won't happen again—"
Dazai cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "We're going home."
"Understood." Atsushi reached behind the chair to grab his coat, but it was clear that the youngest member was still fighting off sleep. He trailed behind Chuuya and Dazai, each step heavy, dragging further behind them.
Finally, they reached the garage. Dazai opened the backseat door, leaving it ajar for Atsushi to slide in.
As Dazai settled into the car, he watched the world pass by, people going about their commutes. When he turned back, he noticed Atsushi leaning against his door, already slipping back into slumber.
"He fell back to sleep," Dazai sighed, a mix of exasperation and fondness in his voice.
"So it would seem," Chuuya replied, locking eyes with Dazai through the rearview mirror.
"You're going to wake him up again?"
Dazai didn't answer, and the ride fell into a comfortable silence. Soon, the car took a turn that Dazai recognized as just two minutes away from his home. He hated the thought of waking his apprentice, but he also wasn't keen on carrying him.
"Chuuya?!"
"Nope. He's your apprentice; you deal with him."
"But he's heavy," Dazai whined, feigning frustration.
"If you keep this up, you'll wake him," Chuuya stated matter-of-factly.
"You're a terrible right-hand man, Chu-Chu."
"Of course, sir."
The car came to a halt in front of Dazai's old-fashioned Japanese house, the sun slowly rising and spilling light onto the scene.
"You know I have to go back, right?" Dazai said, breaking the silence.
"I'm aware." Chuuya crossed his arms, staring out the window, avoiding the question.
"You need—" Dazai cut Chuuya off.
"I guess I pushed a little too much," Dazai admitted, a hint of guilt creeping into his tone.
"Yes, I believe you have," Chuuya replied, absentmindedly playing with a lighter in his hands.
With graceful movements, Dazai exited the car and slowly opened Atsushi's door.
"Kitten, it's time to get out. Chuuya is kicking us out," Dazai sneered at the end.
Atsushi's eyes open more like a feline than human. Dazai placed his hand on Atsushi's face and suddenly it cleared the tiger from his features.
He rubbed his eyes, blinking away the grogginess before he could even think to apologize for falling back asleep. Dazai crouched down nearby, his back turned to him.
"Get on," Dazai ordered, his voice flat.
"I can't do that," came the half-hearted reply, still sluggish.
Dazai didn't move. "It's an order."
A pause. Then, with a sigh, "Oh... okay."
Chuuya, leaning casually against the car, watched the exchange with a faint smirk playing on his lips.
"Enjoying yourself?" Dazai shot a scowl toward his right-hand man, who chuckled in response.
"When it's at your expense always," Chuuya smirked down at the duo. The boss raised Atsushi now on his back.
"Will that be all for today, boss?" The executive closed the door behind Dazai as he made his way to the front door.
"I'm sure you have other important things to do?" Dazai muttered as he made his way down the path. Chuuya turned, making his way to the driver's door, shooting a final glance at Dazai before sliding into the car.
Soon enough, Dazai found himself inside his old-fashioned Japanese home. The smell of miso soup and grilled salmon filled the air, catching him off guard. It was a welcoming scent, surprisingly comforting.
His eyes scanned the room until they locked onto a pair of familiar, sharp grayish-blue eyes — Kyouka.
"Is Atsushi okay?" she asked quietly, her gaze unwavering.
"I'm fine, Kyouka. Just... tired," Atsushi mumbled, clinging to Dazai's shoulders.
Kyouka didn't respond, her eyes narrowing as she turned her attention to Dazai, her posture tense, ready to strike if necessary.
Dazai simply smiled, unbothered by the silent challenge. Without a word, he walked past the young girl, her gaze following him closely as he ascended the stairs with Atsushi in tow. Each step seemed to echo through the quiet house.
They soon reached Atsushi's room. It was modest, a reflection of its owner: a simple desk scattered with papers, a tatami bed, and a few stuffed animals resting atop the gray bedding. The bookcase by the wall was crammed with well-worn, hardcover books — a small testament to Dazai's hard work to make it feel like home.
Dazai gently guided Atsushi to the bed, his movements unusually tender. He tucked him in under the soft, gray covers, a quiet care showing through his typically aloof demeanor. The room felt safe, bathed in the dim light of the morning, cut through the curtains, with the faint sounds of the outside world muffled by the old walls of the house.
Atsushi, barely conscious, let out a small sigh, settling into the warmth. Dazai paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on the young man, as if lost in thought playing with his hair.
"Sleep well; you earned it." Dazai rose from his slouched posture, turning away from the youth. He caught the mumble of Atsushi's voice behind him. "You too."
A smile crept onto Dazai's lips as he exited the room, leaving the soft warmth of the moment behind. In the kitchen, Kyouka was still at the table, focused on her breakfast.
He settled across from her, a playful grin on his face.
"Want me to walk you to school?"
Kyouka looked up, eyebrows raised. "You have bags under your eyes."
"Still can make it there and back," he replied, propping his head up with his hand, feigning nonchalance.
"I made enough for you both." Kyouka placed her chopsticks down, standing up to grab her things. Just as she reached the door, she turned back to him, her expression softening. "You work too much."
With that, she slipped out the door, leaving Dazai alone at the table, the lingering warmth of her concern wrapping around him like a blanket. He leaned back in his chair, glancing around the cozy kitchen filled with the remnants of breakfast.
"How domestic," he mused to himself, shaking his head lightly. The warmth of the moment settled around him, contrasting sharply with the dark night of their lives.
With a sigh, he picked up her cup of cold tea, taking a sip as he considered the quiet routine they had carved out for themselves.