Work Text:
Chuuya swings open the rooftop door of the Port Mafia’s skyscraper, only to find a certain bandaged freak already sitting by the edge, watching the night sky. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He asks, even more pissed than he was before finding out the world's most insufferable person has intruded in his ‘secret hangout spot’. Dazai turns around, and reaches up to his mouth to take the cigarette out of his mouth, exhaling a puff of smoke. “Hm? Oh! Chuuya was so small I hadn’t realised he had entered!” He teases with a sly smirk plastered all over that stupid face of his. “I said what are you doing here?” Chuuya repeats, in a more insistent tone this time. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking that question?” Dazai tilts his head to the side, feigning ignorance. “Besides, is it such a crime to come up here to take a cigarette break? You don’t own this specific rooftop, do you?” Dazai’s voice is laced with a scheming, cunning tone. Chuuya sighs, realising Dazai has once again outsmarted him, and just walks up to Dazai and sits at the ledge of the roof next to the brunette.
Chuuya grabs a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, taking one out. Realising he forgot to bring his lighter along, Chuuya decides to use this opportunity to get back at Dazai and leans over to Dazai’s mouth– which he had put the cigarette back in by now– pressing the tip of his cigarette to Dazai’s, igniting it. Maybe it was the fact he got distracted with how he felt Dazai’s eyes on him that he leaned in close for longer than needed. He has never seen Dazai at such an intimate distance, the usual subtle acne scars that trickle everywhere on his semi-tanned skin, and the mole under his exposed eye after all. He isn’t to blame, right? It’s not his fault Dazai looks this pretty up close, when he usually resembles a slimy, oily, mackerel. He wants to hold him closer, push the hair away from his face and pull away the bandages covering his mysterious hidden eye.
It‘s also not Dazai’s fault for not pulling away first, too. Chuuya leaning close to Dazai out of nowhere was unexpected, if it was to push him off the roof maybe not, but to lean forward to a distance barely inches apart? Well, Dazai didn’t know how he managed to restrain himself from kissing the gravity manipulator right there and then. Chuuya’s eyes were filled with teenage innocence and humanity, practically unaware how intimate this act was, something Dazai craved desperately. The uneasy feeling of how much more human Chuuya was compared to a demon– a wraith– like him crawled under his skin and made itself home there. Dazai itched to rip his skin off, determined to cradle it and cherish it like it was his greatest treasure as he bled out.
Chuuya finally realising he lingered too long, he sits back hastily, taking a drag of the cigarette before taking it back out and exhaling the smoke, trying frantically to stop the absurd heat rising up to his face. Dazai still hadn’t moved an inch, as if too scared that if he did it would shatter this fragile moment like glass being shattered into a million pieces by a hammer. He continued to look at Chuuya, admiring the redhead, and how flustered he had reacted to his own actions.
After managing to compose himself, Chuuya turns to Dazai, who was already staring him in the eye. They stayed in this awkward silence for a while, before Dazai snapped out of it first. He clears his throat, “Why did the slug do that?” Dazai’s voice shook him out of Chuuya’s stance, quickly slapping at himself mentally and scolding himself for being off guard. “I forgot to bring my lighter. Sorry.” He pauses, before continuing. “I thought you don’t smoke? I don’t ever see you smoke.” Dazai shrugged in response, looking back up at the night sky, which relieved Chuuya. He didn’t know how long he could stand with his pretty face staring at him. “I do, just not often. Only when I’m bored.” Chuuya chuckles. Typical Dazai; never doing his paperwork no matter how overdue it was. Though, there was likely another occasion when Dazai smokes, Chuuya thinks, but decides not to push further.
“Y’know, that star constellation resembles you a lot.” Dazai says out of nowhere, still looking up at the night sky.
“Hah? What makes you say that?” Chuuya replies, a little pissed off. He turns his head around, ready to hit Dazai at the back of his head and throw him back onto the rooftop, when he notices the way Dazai was looking at said constellation. His usual uncovered dark and gloomy eye that resembled a blackhole– one that could swallow you up whole if you stared at him too long– now replaced with an uncharacteristic sparkle in his eye, and his eye practically glowed, reflecting the moon in them. Dazai looks stupidly prettier than usual in the naked moonlight, but it was no one’s business except his own to know that. He wanted to engrave this version of Dazai into his brain and never part with it. This Dazai felt more… real, more sincere, more humane. He hated it. He loved it. He wanted to beg Dazai to be like this all the time, to not put up a mask in front of him anymore, to finally open up to Chuuya. To not evade Chuuya’s questions when he checks up on his well being. He wants to hug Dazai, and tell him everything is fine. He wants to clench him so hard to the point they are stuck together for all eternity and no one else except themselves could separate them. (Not like they would ever want to be separated, anyways.) He wants to bring his face closer than it was earlier when he lit his cigarette. He wants to kiss Dazai. He wants to do things he never thought of doing. He wanted to-
“Chuuya! Are you listening to me?” Dazai grumbles, pouting. Dazai’s voice– oh his voice– snapped Chuuya out of his spiralling day dream. ’What was I thinking?’ Chuuya thinks, before clearing his voice. “Yeah, sorry.” He apologises, which is definitely a first. “Chuuya is apologising for once? Is he finally becoming a good doggy for his owner?” Dazai teases, though there was a hint of concern hidden underneath his words. “Ugh, shut up.” Chuuya groans, trying to push those sinful thoughts away from his brain by taking a long drag of his cigarette– an attempt to clear his mind.
“What were you thinking about that he was so incredibly engrossed in to stop listening to my beautiful voice?” Yeah, Chuuya had to agree– Dazai’s voice was superbly hot which was only another perfect thing about Dazai that no one in any world, in any universe, could rival. It was unfair how perfect Dazai was as a person. A human.
“Nothing. You wouldn’t get it.” He sighs. It’s the truth; Dazai wouldn’t get it. He was into girls, after all. He had no chance with the brunette.
“I doubt that’s the case.” Dazai hums, kicking his legs and taking a final drag of his own cigarette before snuffing it. God, those hands.
“Really? Ya think so?” Chuuya snorts.
“Just stop edging me and tell me already!” Dazai whines impatiently.
“I think it’d just be easier to show you.” Chuuya snuffs his cigarette, having no use for it anymore since it would probably do jack shit in trying to calm his thoughts, and leans close to Dazai, the distance between them the same as before, but the restriction of the cigarettes gone. His lips hovered over Dazai’s, and he felt them quiver slightly as Dazai froze. Chuuya closes the narrow gap between their faces, and–
‘BAM!’ The door of the rooftop slams open, startling the two teenagers. Chuuya quickly pulls away from Dazai, who immediately felt the loss of the intense heat emitting from the shorter boy’s body heat, and turns to see who interrupted them. There in the doorway stood an out of breath lower-ranking mafioso that worked under Chuuya directly, whose name easily slipped past Chuuya’s memory. “Nakahara I’ve been– looking everywhere for you… the… Boss is hah– looking for you…” Chuuya sighs, swinging his legs over the ledge and walks towards the mafioso and pats him on the shoulder, leaving Dazai there in disbelief. ’Of course the Boss needs something right now.’ Chuuya thinks sarcastically. He slaps himself mentally, shooing away the overwhelming urge to tell the man to shut up and leave them alone so he could finally– finally– kiss Dazai.
Dazai sat at the rooftop, alone now after Chuuya left him and the mafioso that came to find him bowed respectfully before taking his leave. Somehow, the sky felt duller and more empty without Chuuya. He already missed him. He shouldn’t have been such a pussy. He shouldn’t have been so… scared. He always thought he didn’t fear anything before this. But that almost-kiss? He finally understood why children his age yearned for a romantic relationship so much. Because, fuck, it was terrifying, but at the same time he felt like he was on cloud-nine when he felt the ghost of Chuuya’s lips linger on his own. He should have just kissed Chuuya right then and there. For one and for all. Now that moment is gone. It would never happen again–they wouldn’t let it–, and the only evidence it had happened at all was their memory. But he knew, after spending so much time with Chuuya, that they would never speak of this incident again. Not until one of them brought it up, but it was just too awkward to. He sighed, looking at Chuuya’s snuffed out cigarette longingly, before standing up and leaving.
The days that followed after were the usual– an endless pile of paperwork being shoved onto their desks that demanded their immediate attention, individual missions without the other– but it didn’t /feel/ like it. The air felt awkward between them. Every executive meeting the two somehow always managed to meet the other’s gaze coincidentally, holding the stare with lustful thoughts behind their eyes, before flusteredly turning to the opposite direction, with a blush very visible on each of their faces. Of course, no one dared to bring the attention towards them, but it was painfully obvious to everyone in the room they were pining for each other. They knew it was none of their business anyways, so why would they interfere?
“Hey.” Chuuya calls out to Dazai, looking down at the floor.
Dazai turns around, immediately recognising whose voice it was. How could he not? When the days and nights felt painfully long, he would listen to Chuuya’s voicemail to him for hours on end, and although they were always scolding him and demanding something of the brunette, Chuuya’s voice alone always grounded him whenever his own thoughts tormented him to no end. Or did it ascend him to whatever afterlife there was? Whatever, it doesn’t matter anyways. Pretending he had no knowledge of what Chuuya wanted to talk to him about, he replies innocently, “Hm? What does the small slug want?”
“Quit it, that nickname is so old.” Chuuya groans, looking up at Dazai and ready to punch him but reconsiders his action. “I just… wanted to apologise for what I did the other day. I shouldn’t– no, I should have asked beforehand trying to kiss you. I’m sorry. I— won’t do it again.” He looked back down, embarrassed, and pretended to kick an invisible rock on the ground.
Dazai hadn’t said anything, which made Chuuya worried Dazai was still angry at him, and after a while he looked back up and was face-to-face with Dazai, who had silently walked towards the shorter boy, like a cat stalking its prey. He reached out his hand to grip Chuuya’s tie, and before Chuuya could flinch or react, he felt a familiar pair of cracked lips against his own. Chuuya fluttered his eyes closed, and kissed him back, while Dazai’s free hand went up to Chuuya’s face, caressing it gently, in contrast to his usual roughness and violent self. The kiss was hungry and desperate, but at the same time it was gentle and vulnerable. Chuuya struggled to keep up with Dazai’s pace, and stumbled backwards a little, until his back hit the wall. He didn’t know where to put his hands, since this was his first kiss that was romantic and not with some one-night stand where he imagined Dazai to be in place of whatever girl he could find on the streets. His lungs screamed for oxygen, and he felt like his heart was about to burst out of his chest.
Chuuya pushes Dazai away cautiously–trying not to ruin the mood– to catch his breath. He pants, and quickly covers his mouth in a frantic attempt to regulate his emotions– or at least hide them from Dazai. His face heated up to a temperature that he hadn’t even known was possible. An endless amount of thoughts– of questions– floods his mind.
'I thought Dazai was straight? Why would he kiss me?’
‘Does this mean he likes me? What about “hating” me? Do I even like him?’
’What did that kiss mean? To him? To me? Was that an act of confessing on his end?’
Dazai, in retaliation grumbled, “Chuuya wouldn’t have the balls to do it first, so I had to take matters into my own hands.” Chuuya looks up, ready to punch him teasingly, when he realises that Dazai, too, was blushing –to the point where his face almost matched Chuuya’s hair’s shade– and was scratching his bandaged arm, practically digging his nails into his ‘injured’ arm if it wasn’t for the extra layer of ‘protection’ – a bad habit that stuck with Dazai that he often did when he was nervous for as long as Chuuya was acquainted with him– and biting his lips to a worrying extent that may draw blood.
Chuuya knew Dazai was probably spiralling right now, he knew the boy from the inside out after all. Any logical person would comfort him, maybe even just stand there in shock, but does Chuuya seem logical right now? Obviously not, his first ever crush—rival, friend, oh hell, what even are they?— just kissed him. _The_ demon prodigy. The man in black. The black wraith. The Port Mafia’s infamous womaniser. Just. Kissed. Him. So what does he do? He does what any normal person wouldn't do in this situation: kiss Dazai back. And god, Chuuya would be lying if he said it isn’t everything Chuuya ever imagined. He could finally sink into the feeling of chapped and trembling lips against his own. He regretted the decision of not applying his lip balm beforehand, but there wasn’t any going back now. He pulled Dazai closer to him once more, this time flushing his own body against him and gripping his waist like his life depended on it. God, why didn’t he kiss Dazai sooner?
He hears the boy gasp, completely unprepared for the kiss most likely, enough so to allow Chuuya to take control over both of them, and quickly switches their positions, with Dazai’s back now against the wall instead of Chuuya’s. Dazai grunts, at the light thud of his body hitting the cement, but his mind is clearly too fogged up by the kiss to really pay any attention to the little pain. Chuuya snakes the hand that had been holding onto Dazai’s waist up to his face, caressing it gently, before arriving at the back of Dazai’s head and tugging at his hair, forcing their faces to keep their current nonexistent distance. Using this as leverage, Chuuya pulls Dazai down to his face, forcing his knees to bend, so as to make it more comfortable for himself to kiss the brunette. He probably didn’t mind anyways. Chuuya hears Dazai moan a little at the pain– from the sting of Chuuya being so rough, or from the pleasure, Chuuya couldn’t tell. After all, he was a giant masochist– and god did it only fuel Chuuya.
Chuuya reluctantly pulled away, since he didn’t want Dazai to faint or something from being deprived of air, and it was so hot on how disoriented Dazai looked.
After just catching their breath, panting, and looking at each other with such lust that was originally sparked by a simple cigarette, Chuuya broke the silence. Who would’ve known what they would do to each other if he hadn’t– if they continued to scan each other’s body with raw desire.
“Sorry.” In truth, Chuuya felt a little bit embarrassed about how he acted. Like an animal in mating season.
“It’s fine.” Dazai says, voice trembling.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Dazai looks away, probably lying.
Chuuya sighs, “Listen, you don’t need to hide anything around me. You don’t need to lie about how you feel. You don’t need to feel like you need to put up a mask because I would shame you for showing how you truly feel. I won’t judge anything about you, I promise. I’m here for you. And.. you’re right. I probably wouldn’t have kissed you or even made a move on you if you didn’t first. I’m glad you kissed me.” He spews out, his true feelings finally laid out bare for everyone to see. ’Kissed. Never thought it would be a word I would ever say. Much less to Dazai.’ Chuuya chuckles to himself.
Dazai looks at him in utter disbelief, the last thing he expected from Chuuya was a full blown apology for something he hadn’t even done. But to be honest, Chuuya was one of the few people in his life that he couldn't tell what they were thinking. That was why he liked Chuuya so much. He was unpredictable. He was an unstable variable in every equation. He made life fun. He made life worth living. Which means a lot, considering it’s coming from Dazai. The suicidal maniac who wanted nothing more than have the sweet relief of death granted to him.
Dazai clears his throat, “Is Chuuya finally being a good dog and apologising to his owner? Seems like he finally is behaving, good doggy.” He says, still trying to keep up his usual ‘self’, though this time his teasing was laced with something else— something other than teasing or the smart aleck tone he usually used. It felt strangely… affectionate. Soft. And god did it show in the way he looked at Chuuya. Chuuya would be lying if he said that the uncharacteristic way he looked with such fondness didn’t make him want to dig a hole in the ground and curl up inside it for the rest of his life, never having to deal with such emotions again. After all, no one had ever looked at him so lovingly and made him feel like they’re staring right into his soul, admiring everything vulnerable he’s only ever kept to himself in his whole life. Instead, Chuuya simply squirmed a little, and gently nudged Dazai.
“Shut up. You’re so sappy.” Chuuya mumbles.
“Calling you my dog is being sappy?” Dazai cocks his head to the side like a little puppy, and not-so-innocently grins at him.
“Save it. You know what I mean.” Chuuya grumbles in response, trying to fight against the familiar Deja vu of a familiar overwhelming heat rising up to his face.
“No, I don’t.” Dazai giggles, still maintaining his innocent facade and feigning ignorance, but he knew that Chuuya wouldn’t fall for it. He never has. Not even when they had first met.
“Quit it and just let me kiss you already.” Chuuya groans and rolls his eyes, grips his tie, and without leaving a second for Dazai to get another peep out of his mouth, pushes their lips together again.