Work Text:
The TV ran on low volume in the background as Kunikida-san aggressively typed away at his computer, fuming, while Atsushi-kun worked on Dazai-san’s paperwork. The man himself was, of course, absent from the office, not that anyone except Kunikida-san had high hopes for his presence.
Atsushi-kun’s ears perked up at the TV all of a sudden. “…Osamu, 22, were the victims of this unfortunate accident.”
He leapt from his desk to turn the volume up. “The accident took place in front of the Yokohama Stadium. Both victims have been taken to the Yokohama General Hospital.”
“I’ll get the car,” Kunikida-san said, rushing down the stairs. Most of the others followed after him. If, on the way, a few traffic rules were ignored and broken, Kunikida-san was the only one who noticed anyways.
Their first obstacle came to be the reception desk.
“I’m sorry, sir. I am not allowed to tell anyone that isn’t a family member the room number that a patient is residing in. It is a security concern,” the receptionist, a petite woman with mousy brown hair, said.
“But he doesn’t have any family members!” Yosano-sensei protested.
“That’s not possible.” The receptionist frowned, confused. “All 3 of his emergency contacts have already been notified. In fact, one of them is with him right now.”
“What?” was the simultaneous yell, making a nearby baby wail loudly.
“Please, keep it down, this is a hospital!” she begged almost.
Kunikida-san cleared his throat. “Well, if they’re still there, could you perhaps ask them if we could visit?”
“I suppose I could do that…” she hesitatingly said, dialling a number into the telephone in front of her. “Especially if it means I can get rid of you finally,” she muttered under her breath, though that didn’t prevent any of them from hearing it.
“Moshi moshi, is this Dazai-san’s room? Yes, there are some people here at the reception desk claiming to be… What was it again?” she looked at them.
“Co-workers?” Atsushi-kun spoke up, unsure.
“Yes, yes, co-workers. They’d like to come visit, if that’s okay?”
“She said it’s fine,” the receptionist said, putting the phone down with a sigh. “Room A-258, 2nd floor, wing A, please.”
“Thank you so much,” Kunikida-san said in a hurry as the others rushed up the stairs, too impatient for the elevator.
“Quiet, please!” she cried at their retreating backs, uselessly.
Atsushi-kun reached first, throwing open the door to see Dazai-san lying on the hospital bed, covers drawn up to his waist, and a woman sitting on a blue hospital chair beside his bed. “Hmm, 8 seconds before your prediction,” she said, glancing at her elegant black watch. She looked up to give Atsushi-kun a gentle, comforting smile; then looked at Dazai-san. “Your co-workers really care about you, ne?”
“I can see that” is all Dazai-san said in reply.
By then, everyone else had arrived. Yosano-sensei glanced over the readings on the machines attached to him, and sighed discreetly in relief, catching the woman’s eye, who just smiled at her.
“Dazai-san, are you okay?” Kenji-kun piped up worriedly.
“Yep, yep, just peachy!” he waved it off, a wide grin on his face.
“Yeah, only two broken ribs, nothing really. Not even 1% of the bones present in the human body broken, right?” the woman (seriously, who was she?) said sarcastically.
“That’s a relief… wait what?” Tanizaki-kun yelped.
“Dazai, you goddamn idiot! Messing up my schedule like this, you were supposed to be at the office at least an hour and a half ago! This never would’ve happened if you’d been there on time!” Three guesses on who said that, and the first two don’t count.
The woman made eye contact with Dazai-san discreetly, who minutely shook his head. But Atsushi-kun and Kyouka-chan noticed.
“How did this even happen?” Yosano-sensei asked.
“A truck rammed into me, that’s all,” Dazai-san nonchalantly said.
“That’s all,” Atsushi-kun and Tanizaki-kun echoed hollowly in shock.
“Another one of your suicide experiments?” Kunikida-san sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to hopefully stave off a headache.
The woman reached out a hand to squeeze Dazai-san’s, who gently rubbed a thumb over hers.
“I’m so sorry, but may I ask your name?” Kunikida-san said politely.
She glanced at Dazai-san, who jerked his chin towards their audience, making her sigh deeply.
“I’m Dazai Aoki. Nice to meet you.”
“Are you his sister?” Atsushi-kun asked hopefully, as the others gaped open-mouthed at the newly-discovered Aoki-san. Both the Dazais chuckled at his question.
“I know you to be a fine detective, Nakajima-kun. Do you really think I’m his sister?” Aoki-san said mirthfully.
“Not really,” he replied, crestfallen.
“My own brother is enough of a nuisance to tolerate, I really don’t need another.” Aoki-san shook her head.
Dazai-san gasped dramatically. “I would’ve been an amazing younger brother!”
“I would’ve actually killed myself if you were, instead of just making false attempts once in a while. Or you would’ve strangled me in my sleep.” She shrugged. “I was an absolute asshole in my teenage years. Yes, even more so,” she said as soon as Dazai-san made to open his mouth, and promptly closed it again, raising his hands in a mock gesture of surrender.
“Wait, you two are married?” Atsushi-kun seemed to finally get over his shock enough to exclaim loudly.
“Legally, no, my name is still Kawamoto Aoki, so feel free to call me that instead. Dangerous jobs where loved ones can be used against you and all that. I’m an investigative journalist,” she answered the unspoken question.
“Doesn’t that require you to graduate from university, though? How old are you, even?” Tanizaki-kun asked.
“It’s rude to ask a lady’s age, don’t you know?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and a few of them began to understand why she was his wife.
“You don’t need to hide, grandma. We can all see your grey hairs,” Dazai-san teased.
“No you can’t. I don’t have any, I checked last night, you little brat,” she shot back.
“Street cat.”
“Stray dog.”
“Shortstack.”
“Don’t you ever get tired of the height jokes?” she said exasperatedly. “Why are you so tall, huh? Who are you flirting with over my head?”
“So… how long have you two been together?” Atsushi-kun inquired.
“Dating for 2 years, then ‘married’ for 1.” She made air quotes around the word.
“Is that so..?” Kunikida-san shook his head in disbelief.
“Is it really that unbelievable that I might have a wife?” Dazai-san said with a pout.
“Yes” was the unanimous reply.
This time, it was Dazai-san who squeezed their intertwined hands. She lifted them up to press a soft kiss to the back of his hand.
“Well, we are.” She shrugged, a challenge in her eyes.
Yosano-sensei explained. “Don’t get us wrong, but the way he acts, we’re surprised you can put up with him.”
“You willingly cohabit with him; why would you do that to yourself?” Kunikida-san looked tortured. His face made Aoki-san burst into laughter, breaking the tension in the room.
“I could tell you why, but I’m a selfish person, Kunikida-san, and I want him all to myself. So if you ever figure out why, let me know so that I can hit you on the back of your head and give you amnesia.” She laughed again. Dazai-san’s face melted into a soft, disgustingly sappy look at her words.
“He literally flirts with every woman he meets! How is he ‘all yours’”? Kunikida-san protested.
“And I’m a club waitress and singer on my evenings. Your point being?” Aoki-san raised an eyebrow, but then sighed. Dazai-san gave her an apologetic look.
“I appreciate the concern, Kunikida-san, thank you. Now, if you all are done visiting, the doctor did tell Osamu to sleep as much as he could to heal quicker. You need him back at the office as soon as possible, yes?”
Finally, Kunikida-san took the hint. “A-ah, of course. We’ll take our leave now.”
“If anyone of you want any inside info, or have any juicy secrets to spill in the national newspaper and get me a promotion, do let me know, yeah? Here’s my card. Bye~” she cheerfully waved.