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It was a fairly good morning. Or at least Chuuya supposed it was gonna be: the birds were chirping; the sun was high and shining (as much as he could see, considering the unnecessarily big Port Mafia buildings were covering up most of his window view); he had a good night sleep (meaning no unnerving feeling was there as soon as he woke up, in sweat and unaware of his surroundings for good fifteen seconds); and he had actually slept more than usual! (more than he had thought he was going to, actually… weird).
The last point could be considered courtesy of his dearest Boss, Ougai Mori, who was happily giving free reign to his highest members now that Christmas was coming, and they were actually going to get two whole free days! (Okay, technically, Chuuya wasn’t really a higher up in the Port Mafia ranks, but he was favorited by Mori, so he might as well exploit that).
Nonetheless, he was expecting to have a fairly calm and relaxing morning, and as much as he despised staying still for too long at a time, he also wasn’t going to waste a morning where he had permission to clock into work later than usual; he even slept more on purpose! (If going to sleep one hour earlier than usual, meaning one a.m., and waking up two hours later, meaning eight a.m., could be considered early…) but hey! He actually got three more hours of sleep than usual, and he wasn’t going to whine about that, hell if he was.
He was planning on staying in bed at least five more minutes, not having even checked what time it was yet (strange, he didn’t hear his alarm..) when he heard it, that voice, that voice that as much as he despised, he had grown used to, that voice that as much as he didn’t want to, had become a constant in his life, and a voice that, even if unwillingly, he was able to feel even when he wasn’t actually talking, like right at this moment, he recognized it with the bastard simply humming whatever stupid melody he just came up with. But that’s what being partners meant, right?
He was planning on staying in bed at least five more minutes, but that meant giving him liberty to do whatever it was that he was doing for five whole more minutes, and he couldn’t have that now could he?—
“Dazai what the fuck are you doing here at ass o’clock?!” Came Chuuya’s voice, already feeling the hum of Dazai’s voice upon realizing he had woken up.
“Good morning Chuu~ya~! Sleep good?” He hated his voice. And he hated even more the fact that that tone he took this early after Chuuya had woken up was stirring in his stomach in a warm way that wasn’t because of the comfort of the bed. He tried to ignore the feeling.
“I would’ve slept better if I had known I wasn’t going to find a leech in my apartment as soon as I’d wake up!” He screamed from his bedroom. He didn’t know where Dazai was in his house, if he could hear him or not, but that wasn’t enough reason to stop Chuuya from screaming his anger out. Even though it was hurting his ears a little, still not used to sounds after a whole night of quiet and relaxing silence.
He could feel the taunt coming.
“Why don’t you get up from your very comfortable bed and see what I prepared here for you in the kitchen, Chuu~ya~!”
Was he doing it on purpose? He had to. He knew how much it pissed Chuuya off being referred to with that kind of tone.
Also did he say he was in the kitchen? That was literally welcoming a disaster. There was no absolute way he hadn’t destroyed his kitchen while he was asleep and unaware, and most of all he was unsure how long it had been since that bandaged bastard broke into his home (he was sure he had broken in because he refused to use the front door, he had a literal key! What even was the point of that!?), and what he could’ve done in that time.
He supposed he was going to find out. Very soon.
He carelessly and tiredly got out of bed, already missing the inviting warmth of the bedsheets being shined upon by the early sun (again, as much as it could reach them). He put on some sweatpants and a t-shirt, uncaring of how Dazai was seeing him, but still not that uncaring to go out and see him in his boxers (it was comfier to sleep like that, who are you to judge).
—
As soon as he opened the bedroom door he could feel the smell of food being prepared reaching his nose, and even more his very hungry-from-the-night stomach.
It was at that moment that his tired-from-the-morning brain decided to recall one specific conversation with the Mackerel: when they had first heard about Mori planning to give out more free time and especially two free days for Christmas Eve and Christmas (mind you, this conversation happened at least two weeks ago so Chuuya has yet to realize why he was remembering this now), Dazai had jokingly said that he was planning a big surprise for Chuuya, one that he needed to first warm Chuuya up to, and his plan to do so was, apparently, cooking him breakfast for the whole week before Christmas.
Now, Chuuya rarely believed or listened to Dazai outside of missions, but this was strangely accurate to what the bastard said he was going to do. So, still a little nervous for the condition which he was about to find his kitchen in, he buckled up and made his way through the hallway.
—
The first thing he saw upon entering his kitchen, was that it was, in fact, still fully intact, save for a little bit of smell of— smoke? What the hell was he cooking for breakfast to be able to create that much smoke (he was kind of feeling the smell of burnt eggs…). At least he did notice the window open, so Dazai did have an ounce of morals still left in him (thank God).
He intended on approaching Dazai sneakily, (read: badly), but as soon as he got just close enough to see that he was cooking eggs and bacon —of-fucking-course— he was shoved away by Dazai, who, if the look on his face could be anything to go by, was not promising. At all.
He wanted to get mad at the bastard because he knew, he knew, that eggs and bacon made his stomach feel all weird. Reason why he tried to avoid them, even outside of the context of breakfast; he had no intention of recreating the mess back at that one warehouse the morning after a mission. They had sneaked out (when they were supposed to be hiding for the whole day) to go and get breakfast. They went to a cafe, bought some food and tried it right after. Only for Chuuya to feel sick some minutes later for whatever reason: it was unusual, it wasn’t the first time eating this kind of food, but he puked it all over the toilet that day. So that was it. Except Chuuya had (still) no idea that Dazai had actually put rat poison in his fucking meal, making him now think that he was somehow allergic to the specific combination of foods.
He tried to push the groggy feeling aside, when he saw the beaming look on his partner’s face, eyes glowing with delight (or was it mischief? Chuuya would not be able to tell you, too distracted by it to even try and think of what could’ve made that look happen) and, as he looked down, saw that he was wearing an apron.
Huh. He really did go all out for this bit and— are those slugs on his apron?! He was one hundred percent sure that he didn’t own anything like that. The bastard surely bought it just to mess with Chuuya. Surely. Even though it did remind Chuuya of the already matching pair of aprons they both owned, except those had dogs and cats decorating them (contrary to popular belief, Dazai was the one with the dogs apron, having lost a bet a few months prior, after he had underestimated Chuuya maybe a tad bit too much). The passing thought of buying a matching one, decorated by mackerels, crossed his mind, and he tried to ignore that unrelenting want he was now feeling for whatever stupid reason. Yeah. Whatever.
Having decided to actually see what was going on atop his kitchen counter, he got closer. Gesture much clearly not appreciated by Dazai who, once again, very nicely pushed him back and made him bump onto his kitchen table. Alright then. Chuuya was gonna give him his way. He was much too tired and pretty much annoyed at this point to even try and resist just to see some food that was probably going to be poisoned.
(Not that that would be a problem. Chuuya has had his fair share of poison in all kind of foods that at this point he had developed a resistance to it. Courtesy of Dazai. Still, it didn’t mean that he wanted to willingly eat that shit. No thank you).
So, he just decided to give in, he sat on the chair closest to the kitchen counter (you never know if some things are actually going to go wrong, and you’ll just find yourself too far from the place to act in time. Nope. Not him). He turned around from facing Dazai and looked at the side of the table facing the wall, then put his arms and hands one atop the other and put his head down. Never hurt anyone to go sleep for a tiny little bit right after he just woke up right? Right.
—
—ya?” Huh?
“Chuuya~?” Goddamnit. Can’t a man get a minute of peace in his own damn home. He could feel a finger poking his cheek, calling his name a few more times. By now the bastard had to have realized that Chuuya wasn’t asleep anymore, but no hurt in ignoring him a little while more.
He wanted to catch Dazai off guard, deciding to stand upright in a fast movement that he surely wouldn’t expect. What Chuuya didn’t expect though, was Dazai being so close to his face that they hit their foreheads one against the other when Chuuya tried to get up. With groaning sounds they both looked at each other, respectively surprised and annoyed. Dazai was the first one to get out of that trance.
“Chibi what the hell! Why would you get up so fast? You didn’t even give me time to try and dodge!” Screeched the guy who was supposedly the deadliest member of the Port Mafia, Boss’s right hand man, youngest executive in history, demon prodigy and black wraith of the Port Mafia (stupid names if you asked Chuuya), it was at times like this that he seriously questioned himself how it was possible for Dazai to have become executive before him. And then he remembered that he was Dazai. Ugh.
Whatever.
“What do you want now? Haven’t you ruined my morning enough?” Asked the redhead sighing, already expecting the whining that was about to come from the fish in front of him.
“Why Chuuya! How could you ever say that! After I, your caring partner for life decided to so kindly prepare you breakfast! —Well actually it’s kinda lunch now— but you get the point! Don’t you Chuu~ya~?”
Said Dazai, all in one breath, almost like he was… anxious? Nervous? No, that couldn’t be it. His partner was known for not letting his emotions take the better of him (uncaring of what other people said of Dazai being emotionless, he was a goddamn human too! Of course he had emotions for fucks sake).
He tried to put that aside for now, too scared himself to actually contemplate something like that actually happening right now, putting that thought (that he was definitely coming back to later) in a hidden part of his brain.
“Ugh yeah whatever you say— wait.” He halted in his speech.
“Mh?”
“Dazai.” He started, already clenching his fists to try and not punch the bastard in the face, “What the fuck do you mean, almost lunch?” He was breathing. Hard. But he was breathing. He couldn’t let his anger get the better of him (yet).
He was about to get up and see if he, maybe, for some unexplainable reason, forgot to set his alarm the night before (he knew he didn’t, but doesn’t hurt to check, right?). He was making his way to the start of the hallway that went to his bedroom when he decided to glance at Dazai. And that’s when he saw it. That all-knowing look. That look that showed that he knew what happened to his alarm. He knew because he had messed with it. Of-fucking-course he had.
He turned back around, glaring at Dazai. If looks could kill he would already be six feet under. Sitting down again on the chair, he closed his eyes, breathed in and out, and started counting from one to ten in his head, and then in reverse. He could feel the look Dazai was giving him. The bastard knew that Chuuya had asked Kouyou to help him with his anger problems, and she came up with this little trick that, most of the time (read: when it didn’t involve Dazai) worked.
He opened his eyes, Dazai mere centimeters away from his face, almost able to feel his breath on his nose. He didn’t pull away or backed up. Just looked at him and glared, hard. They both didn’t say anything more, leaving this little bump on the road aside.
Already feeling another headache growing, he turned fully around and looked up at Dazai from the chair, who had now stood up fully again (fuck this dude and his unexpected growth spurt, honestly who did he think he was? Looking down on Chuuya like… that? He saw a barely different emotion in those now shining (huh?) eyes in front of him, but it was there, and purposefully ignored it, again).
“So—“ He started “— you gonna show me what you did or are you just gonna stare at me all day?” He let a second pass, “And get that expression off of your face! It’s weird and it freaks me out…” He looked away.
“Whatever do you mean Chuuya~? I always look at you this way!” The other beamed.
“The hell you do! Just give me the food before I throw it in the garbage with you following right after.” He was starting to get annoyed. But he lied. He would never throw out something that Dazai made, food that Dazai made. He knew how hard it was for him to even get close to a kitchen and look at food, he couldn’t imagine how much it took for him to actually cook all that. He wasn’t that heartless (given he had a heart).
He was about to sneak a peek at the kitchen counter when he felt hands on his eyes. Ugh. Seriously what was up with him today?
“What is this now?” He asked, while still knowing what the answer was going to be. No matter how much people didn’t give him credit for, he was fairly good at understanding Dazai now, after all they had been partners for two years now, it had to be a given, right? (It wasn’t, he knew that he could count on one hand the people who could actually understand Dazai, but he didn’t want to get prideful for that, he didn’t want to go on unexplored territory, he knew what that would mean).
“You know what you have to do~” Answered Dazai with that lilt that was following his every sentence since he started talking to him this morning. Uff, of course he knew Chuuya knew.
So he decided to just stay put and, for once, listen to what his partner was asking of him. After some moments of clacking of plates and sounds of napkins and silverware, with a little shy (shy?) nudge of his shoulder, he opened his eyes.
The sight in front of him was definitely not what he was expecting. Did he expect to see under his eyes literal garbage? Of course not. But did he expect to see various pancakes, waffles and strawberries and chocolate together with the aforementioned eggs and bacon? Hell no.
He didn’t realize it soon enough to stop it, but he was actually smiling at the sight. The sour feeling that he had in his throat from the anger he felt before was finally starting to subdue and he felt just a tad bit better. He had one question lingering in his mind though—
“Dazai I was of the idea that you absolutely didn’t know how to cook? What the hell is this?” He wasn’t mad per se, but why the hell was he cooking five days out seven of the week for the bastard when he, apparently, knew how to cook?
“Huh? You mean how I cooked all this? Well! I’ll have you know that it’s only normal food that I cannot cook!—“
“Normal? What do you mean—“
“Anything that isn’t sweets obviously!” He beamed happily. With, again, that stupid (sweet) look on his face and those stupid (pretty) shining eyes, that just couldn’t seem to stop being so bright today.
He tried, really tried to get mad at Dazai for having him cook his meals, and for having never mentioned this skill of his, but seeing the look on his face he just didn’t have the strength to do so (he was just gonna say that it was the tiredness’ fault if asked).
“So!” Dazai started again after seeing how Chuuya had stopped responding, “Why don’t you try something mh? I’d recommend starting with the eggs and bacon~” He beamed lightly. Suspicious. Especially after he had just said that he only knew how to cook sweets. But whatever, the faster he got through this, the faster he could go and mind his business again (read: waste the day away).
He took the fork and knife and started cutting, feeling a little uneasy with Dazai watching over him like a hawk, looking way too amused for this kind of situation.
Putting a piece of egg in his mouth, he had to restrain himself to not spit that shit out the moment it touched his tongue. He tried to keep a neutral face, wouldn’t give Dazai the satisfaction of a reaction. He swallowed. Grabbed a piece of the bacon and put it to his lips. He swallowed hard. What the hell did this bastard put in the food?! (It did have a familiar taste though, something he had tasted before and knew he hated, he just really couldn’t put his finger on it…).
“Everything good Chuu~ya~? You’ve got a strange look on your face.. ehe.” The audacity that this bandaged fish had to even try and piss Chuuya off while he was so kindly not puking the food out (mostly out of spite, but also because Dazai sure as hell wasn’t gonna clean the mess, and he really didn’t feel like cleaning up vomit).
“Nothing, Dazai. All great.” He tried not to sound too condescending or sarcastic, and if his voice didn’t betray him, his face sure as hell did, if the gleam of Dazai’s expression was anything to go by. Bastard. Hopefully the rest of the food wasn’t gonna get that reaction out of him again.
He didn’t have much faith.
With Dazai still looking expectantly at him, he took a piece of the waffles first and brought it to his mouth. The taste of the food was… actually really good? There was no way the bastard actually managed to make something this good and not poison it. He quickly ate another bite and passed onto the pancakes. As he took a bite and swallowed, all his resolve was abandoning him. This was actually good, holy shit. Again, he took a second bite and went to grab a strawberry to dip into the chocolate.
As he was about to do so he felt a hand stopping his. While trying to keep his expression calm and neutral he asked,
“What is it that you need now?” He may have sounded more angry than he had intended to, but after the food he had just tried, he really wanted to dip those strawberries in that chocolate. And not even the bandaged bastard was gonna stop him (uncaring of the fact that he was the one to make and present those to him).
“Let me?~” Huh? He had to have heard wrong, right? There was no way this idiot had just asked him that. He was about to push him out of the way, as he was already starting to feel his face and the top of his ears get warmer, but then he heard a little snicker coming from the fucker standing right beside him.
“Oh my! Did Chuuya really think I was going to do that? I know I call you a slug but I didn’t think your hat had actually eaten all your remaining brain cells and made it slower!” Said the bastard with such a look of contentment that almost made Chuuya forget to snap at him. And he would’ve, had Dazai not stopped him, again.
“But of course if Chuuya actually wants me to do that who am I to ever refuse! Ehe.” He had the courage to actually snicker again. What the fuck. Chuuya wanted to really, really, get off at him with a the comeback he deserved, but he actually figured that he enjoyed the sound of Dazai’s laugh. He wanted to hear it again. Possibly soon, possibly not when aimed against him (even though Chuuya wouldn’t really mind).
“Fuck off.” Is what he decided to settle with, it was good enough for now. He was gonna give him a piece of his mind later for sure.
Now, he could finally get a taste of those strawberries and oh, he would give anything to get to eat those more and more. He let out a noise of contentment and, glancing at his left, he could see the way Dazai relished in that. He looked proud, and happy, and all things that Chuuya would’ve never imagined to see on Dazai’s face, only knowing that they were there, for nobody to see. Up until now at least. He had just decided that he wanted to see those expressions more, and more, until he didn’t have the strength anymore to bring them out of him (he’d always have the strength).
“What do you think?” Asked Dazai. He sounded a bit breathless, like he hadn’t been breathing, like he was holding his breath, like he was nervous of what Chuuya, of all people, thought of his food.
Huh. He could be honest for once, Chuuya guessed.
“This is really fucking good, what the fuck. Why have you never told me about this? I could’ve exploited you more the same way you do with me you damn beanpole.” Okay maybe this wasn’t the way to go for it, but Dazai knew what he meant, he always knew.
“But of course because I have something planned! You do remember our conversation about your Christmas present, don’t you dear partner?” Chuuya just nodded, “See! Then you’ll know soon enough why! I’m sure your brain, as slow as it may be, will be able to get that, right?~” He snickered again. Happily. Content. All emotions Chuuya was getting used to, fast. It may turn out to be a problem, but the Chuuya of the present didn’t care. He was going to relish in that.
“Whatever you say, shitty Dazai.” Said shitty Dazai was about to talk, but got stopped right away by Chuuya who put a hand on his mouth, and his sour (even if not as much as before) look came back.
“Don’t even start, I’m going back to sleep, I literally cannot deal with more of this right now, feel free to do whatever the hell you want, you already do so anyways.” Said Chuuya, the last sentence way lower than the rest, even though Dazai surely heard. He sighed.
Taking his hand back, he turned around to reach his bedroom, a little uneasy since Dazai had yet to respond. He sighed, again. His aforementioned resolve completely dissolving into nothingness, he turned around again. Trying to not let his uneasiness (read: nervousness) get the better of him.
He walked back until he was in front of Dazai, he looked him in the eyes —when had he taken his eye bandage off?— and looked up at him (damn beanpole). He stood on his tippy toes, seeing in full view the expectant and nervous look on Dazai’s face. He acted quickly, trying not to chicken out because that wasn’t in his nature, and left a quick and way too sweet kiss on his cheek. He could feel his face getting warmer (actually, he wasn’t sure if it was his he was feeling or Dazai’s).
He didn’t have the time to see (and relish in) the pure expression of sweet contentment on Dazai’s face because he flew to his room, not even caring to hide his embarrassment and nervousness (not even needing his ability to do so).
Now, if you were to ask Chuuya if the jokes and the taunt of Dazai during the following weeks were worth what he had just done, he’d say that it definitely hadn’t been worth it; but if you were to ask him while seeing newly made breakfast each morning for the next week (and unsurprisingly the following weeks too) on his kitchen table, he’d say that probably it might’ve been worth it. Even if just a little bit. Considering that now, at night, the sound of his insomniac ass didn’t bother him as much as it used to before, if only because in the morning he would get his sweet, sweet breakfast.