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The freshly promoted youngest executive in the history of the Port Mafia has been spinning on his chair for the last two hours.
Dazai has to admit that as much as he’d enjoyed Chuuya’s expression when Mori announced him as an executive –and thus unknowingly announcing Dazai as the winner of their competition–, now that reality has settled he feels… very little, actually.
That numbness isn’t anything new, however, and neither is the frustration that follows.
He’d expected that the sweet taste of victory and Chuuya’s anger would make life exciting for him again, at least for a little bit; but here he is, bored in his too big of an office with twice as many responsibilities as before awaiting for his attention.
Being an executive feels more like a punishment than a reward.
He begins spinning his chair in the opposite direction as before, and his mind wanders.
The last couple of years, rising to an executive position before Chuuya had been his motivation to keep going; not because he actually cared for the promotion or the Mafia, but simply because he likes a challenge.
He never stopped to wonder what he would do after he reached the end.
It’s only a matter of time before Chuuya becomes an executive too, could they compete to become Boss of the Port Mafia next?
The mere idea startles Dazai. He plants his feet on the ground to stop spinning.
Dazai becoming Boss is exactly what Mori –and everyone in the Mafia– expects, but he doesn’t want it. It’s the last thing he wants, actually. That’s a competition he could let Chuuya win, he thinks, but what’s the fun in that?
He tries to picture it: sitting on Mori’s chair, with the red scarf around his neck like a noose and Chuuya –as his loyal dog– standing next to him, guarding his blind side.
Speaking of-
The door to his office bursts open, and in walks the detestable creature that Dazai has the displeasure of calling his partner.
“Oi-”
Dazai tuts, shaking his head with fake disappointment as Chuuya stomps into the room. The coat he’s taken to wearing over his shoulders trails after him ominously.
“Bad dog, you can’t just walk into an executive’s office.”
“You’re my partner before you’re an executive; I can walk into your damn office whenever I want,” Chuuya growls in response. He plants his hands on Dazai’s desk, earning a sigh. “And you weren’t doing anything but feeling sorry for yourself anyway.”
“Did you need anything, subordinate-kun?” Dazai asks, as he leans his elbows on the desk, right in front of Chuuya’s hands.
Chuuya scoffs. The chain on his hat catches the light obnoxiously with his every move. “Get off your fucking high horse, would you?”
“My, that’s no way to speak to your superior.”
“You’re being even more insufferable than I expected,” sighs Chuuya, leaning back to pinch the bridge of his nose. Dazai can’t stop a mocking smile from creeping up his face. “I just came here to tell you to go to Lupin once you’re done moping. Those lame friends of yours are waiting for you.”
Dazai frowns. He’s not confused about Oda and Ango wanting to see him in Lupin, but rather about Chuuya coming all this way to relay the message.
“Was Chuuya demoted to errand boy at the same time as I got promoted to executive?”
“I will kill you with my bare hands.”
Dazai gasps theatrically. “Would Chuuya be so kind to me?”
“Chuuya is done here,” his partner announces. He turns around sharply and begins walking away. “I’ll be in the garage with my bike for around ten minutes; good luck fighting another ride to Tokyo if you don’t hurry the fuck up.”
Dazai could easily find another way to go to Tokyo if Chuuya leaves without him, and they both know it. He’s resourceful, and even if he wasn’t, his new executive position means that all he has to do is snap his fingers and there will be a car waiting for him outside.
Still, he stands from his chair and throws his coat over his shoulders before the door even closes behind Chuuya.
“You could at least try to be a decent driver,” Dazai whines, stepping away from the motorcycle like it burns. It does. It did the first time he climbed on it and Chuuya conveniently forgot to mention that the exhaust pipe would grow burning hot.
“I’d like to see you try,” Chuuya replies as he climbs off the bike as well.
Making fun of the way he has to jump to reach the ground has stopped being amusing by now, so Dazai keeps his mouth shut.
“So I can drive us back?”
“No. Fuck off.”
“But Chuuya-!”
They walk the short way to Lupin, all while Dazai keeps insisting that he should get to drive on the way back to Yokohama and Chuuya continues to refuse on account that he would like it if the bike stayed on one piece.
Dazai’s arguments to defend his case die in his mouth when they make it to Lupin and several party poppers go off, showering him in multicolor confetti.
Oda and Ango are there, as Chuuya said they would be, but so are Hirotsu and Kouyou. The cat, Sensei, is there too, and so is the bartender. Once the confetti has settled, music floods the tiny bar; some rock song that Dazai has heard plenty of times before.
To top it all off, there’s a banner above the bar that reads ‘Congratulations, Executive Dazai’ in big, dark blue kanji.
Only one person could be responsible for this.
Dazai turns around to face Chuuya, lingering by the entrance and chewing on his lower lip as if to gauge his reaction.
“Aw, all this for me?” Dazai asks, and he pulls his partner to his chest to hug him suffocatingly tight. It’s worth every punch he gets to the chest and stomach. “You didn’t have to, slug!”
“I didn’t do it!” Chuuya protests, half muffled on Dazai’s chest. “It was all Oda-san!”
Dazai gasps and lets go of Chuuya just as his partner pushes against his chest with both hands. He bites back a grin when the other stumbles back and instantly tries to punch him.
He gracefully dodges the expected attack and turns to Oda, pretending to believe Chuuya’s lie.
“Is that true, Odasaku?!”
His friend blinks, as if startled to be put on the spot; which tells Dazai that his shy partner didn’t tell Oda that he had to pretend this was all planned by him.
He chooses to ignore how Oda’s eyes search for Chuuya, standing somewhere behind Dazai. He also keeps quiet for the awkward moment of silence that passes while the two of them attempt to communicate telepathically. It would be easier if they hung out more, but for some reason, Chuuya is oddly resistant to hanging out in Lupin more often.
“Uh, yeah,” Oda agrees, eventually. “Congratulations.”
“Well, it was only a matter of time,” Dazai replies, with a shrug. “Who else would’ve filled the empty executive seat? Chuuya?”
“You just wait, I’ll be an executive soon too!”
“Not soon enough!”
With a middle finger thrown in Dazai’s direction, Chuuya walks away and gestures for Oda to follow him. Temptation to follow them is strong, but he thinks that he’d much rather not know what the closest thing he has to a friend and his partner have to talk about behind his back.
So while the two of them are busy gossiping, Dazai inspects the remaining partygoers. Ango and Hirotsu are at the bar, chatting about something that must be overwhelmingly boring, which means…
Dazai has no choice but to talk to Kouyou, sitting at a table at the back of the bar with a glass of wine in her hands.
He asks for a glass of whisky, and once the bartender has handed it to him –along with some needless congratulatory words about his promotion– he takes a deep breath and makes his way towards Kouyou.
She raises an eyebrow when he sits in front of her.
“Ane-san.”
“Executive Dazai,” Kouyou replies, setting her glass down on the table. He can’t help but grimace, which must’ve been the reaction she was looking for. “I take it you’re not a fan of the title?”
“I’d like ‘Master Dazai’ much better, to be honest.”
Kouyou sighs. “Must you make a joke out of everything?”
“If it’s funny.”
“I hope you’re aware that being an executive is a big responsibility,” she says, solemnly as ever, as she pins him in place with a glare. “It’s not just a shiny title the Boss gave you so you could flaunt it to Chuuya.”
Dazai sets his own glass down, and his shoulders slump. “Are you about to give me a lecture, Ane-san?”
Unexpectedly, she shakes her head. “I know that lecturing you is pointless; but perhaps I could interest you in some advice.”
“I don’t need advice.”
“Fine, if you say so,” Kouyou relents, with an uncharacteristic eye roll. She must be picking up Chuuya’s habits as much as he is picking up hers. “No advice, but I will tell you one thing: being an executive isn’t a death sentence, so wipe that kicked puppy look off your face.”
Dazai gasps dramatically, even as the words touch a nerve that he didn’t even know was exposed. “Who are you calling a kicked puppy?”
“Being an executive is an honor,” Kouyou continues, uncaring of his theatrics, “one that you must not take lightly.”
“It’s just a lot of meetings with the other executives and even more phone calls.”
“Yes, and every single one of those meetings is important. Every single one of those phone calls is someone asking for your support or guidance,” Kouyou says, and to be fair, he knows her words to be true. Not once has a meeting been called without purpose, and every call he gets is a matter of life or death. “You may not particularly care for the Mafia, but you carry its weight on your shoulders along with me and the others now.”
“Not a death sentence, you said?”
“What are you two gossiping about?”
“Chuuya!” Dazai cheers, not even bothering to hide the relief in his voice. “Excellent timing, I needed to run away.”
He quickly stands from his seat and takes the glass of wine in Chuuya’s hand before he pushes him into the booth. He places the wine on the table and takes his own drink while ignoring the colorful words being thrown his way.
“Always a pleasure, Dazai-kun,” Kouyou says, while he walks away.
Chuuya curses some more under his breath. “Ignore him-“
Dazai quickly inspects the bar, and lucky for him, it seems like Ango, now chatting with Oda, is done boring Hirotsu to death with his dull conversations about the weather and inflation. He makes a beeline to the man.
“Running from Kouyou?” Hirotsu asks, once Dazai has taken a seat next to him.
“How does she make psychological torture look so easy?”
The man laughs as he swirls the remaining whisky in his glass. “She talked to you about the responsibilities of being an executive, I presume?”
“Are you about to lecture me too? ‘Cause I’d like to finish my drink before that.”
“I've never tried to lecture you before; I'm not about to start now." Hirotsu says, with a shake of his head. “Besides, I have no doubts that you’ll make an excellent executive. You have a brilliant mind, and I’m sure that you will use your new position to keep the Mafia going in the right direction.”
“What if I don’t?”
“Mhm?”
“What if I abuse my power?” asks Dazai, with his eyes fixed on a droplet of water that’s slowly dripping down the sides of his glass. “The old Boss did it.”
“The former Boss was a very sick and lonely man,” Hirotsu says. He raises his empty glass to get the bartender’s attention and cruelly keeps his mouth shut until his glass is full again. “He had no one to advise him; all he had was himself and his mind. As you know, minds are delicate. Years of nothing but death and violence corrupted him.”
“What are you-?”
“You could never go on to be like him,” states Hirotsu, so sure of his words that it knocks the air out of Dazai’s lungs. “The Mafia is the perfect place to go off the rails, I’ll give you that, but you have people to keep you in check before you stray too far.”
Part of Dazai knows that, of course. This evening is proof enough: Kouyou had no reason to come all the way to Tokyo, and neither did Hirotsu, nor anyone else. If they’re here, it’s because they wanted to show up for him.
He knows that, but the loudest part of his brain refuses to accept it.
“Do I?”
“I’ve personally seen Chuuya-san punch you in the face when your strategies were bound to cause too many casualties; I have no doubts that he will continue to keep you in line. And so will the rest of us. So will I.”
Dazai swallows down the rest of his whisky before he can give Hirotsu the emotional reaction he must be looking for.
“Sappy.”
“Chuuya tells me you frequent this place, is that true?” Hirotsu asks, mercifully changing the subject. Dazai nods. “How did you even find it? It’s a far way from Yokohama.”
“Ah, that’s actually a funny story…”
“An executive, uh?”
Oda approaches Dazai while everyone is outside of Lupin, saying their goodbyes and exchanging a few words about work here and there after a long celebration that felt like it only lasted a minute.
“Don’t tell me you’re jealous too, Odasaku.” Dazai groans. “That’s not like you.”
“It’s just impressive,” Oda clarifies, with a shrug. He pulls out a cigarette and offers one to Dazai as well, despite knowing that he doesn’t smoke. “Will you still stop by sometimes?”
The question takes him aback. He thinks about it as Oda lights up his cigarette, but he can’t make any sense of it.
“Of course I will, why wouldn’t I?”
“Isn’t there some rule about… I don’t know… only socializing within your hierarchy?”
“I doubt it,” Dazai snorts. The mere idea is ridiculous; but then again, so are so many other things about the Mafia. “And even if there was, I would still socialize with the underlings. I’m dating Chuuya, aren’t I?”
“Speaking of,” Oda says, with a glance in Chuuya’s direction, “he wanted me to tell you that this was my idea.”
Dazai looks at Chuuya then, much less subtly than Oda.
His boyfriend is saying goodbye to Kouyou and Hirotsu, who will be driving her back to Yokohama. He’s older than Dazai, and yet, seeing him excitedly talk to two people he looks up to —and who are staring at him like they would a whining puppy— he looks so much younger. The sight makes even Dazai feel younger.
The youngest executive in the history of the Port Mafia. The title doesn’t feel as daunting as it did before.
Chuuya really knows how to play him.
“Did he now?”
“We both know you’re too smart to buy it,” Oda shrugs, earning Dazai’s attention back. “He must know it too.”
“Ah, my Chuuya is too shy for his own good,” says Dazai, waving a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, I’ll pretend I believe that you planned this.”
“Oi, Dazai!” yells Chuuya, now that Hirotsu and Kouyou are walking away. “Let’s get going!”
Dazai gestures for him to wait, and Oda laughs.
“No you won’t.”
“I won’t,” he confirms. “I’ll see you around, Odasaku.”
As he approaches Chuuya, so does Ango.
“I insist, I could drive you two-“
“It’s fine, Glasses,” Chuuya barks, with a tone that suggests that Ango has been bugging him about driving them home since before they even stepped outside. “I wouldn’t drive if I thought there was a chance I could damage my bike.”
To be fair, Dazai knows that much to be true. Chuuya loves his precious bike too much to ever endanger it.
Way too much, in Dazai’s opinion.
“It’s not your vehicle I’m concerned about.”
Dazai sighs. “Give it a rest, Ango; my dog is stubborn.”
“Fuck off or I’m leaving you here.”
“Ango could drive me.”
“No he won’t. Let’s go, asshole.”
Dazai happily complies, easily falling into step right next to Chuuya as he begins making his way to the parking lot where the bike is waiting for them.
He glances over his shoulder and waves at Ango and Oda, now sharing a singular cigarette. “Bye, bye!”
They make it back to Chuuya’s penthouse when the sun is already rising out the panel windows.
Dazai kicks his shoes off and haphazardly throws his coat onto the rack, in just the way he knows it will get on Chuuya’s nerves. Sure enough, he can hear his lovely dog curse and move his stuff while he stretches his arms above his head as he yawns.
The excitement of the evening may be enough to actually knock him into sleep, who would’ve thought?
“Well, that was fun.”
He may request for more parties at Lupin in the future. He’s an executive now; surely he can demand one of his subordinates to arrange parties for him, right? What would be the point otherwise?
“Yeah, yeah.” Is Chuuya’s enthusiastic response as he pushes past Dazai and towards the hallway. “I have to finish some reports before going to bed, I’ll join you later.”
“Such a hardworking subordinate”
“Fuck off.”
“Hey, Chuuya?” calls Dazai, and immediately, his partner stops walking and nods to indicate he’s listening. His hair, free from the confines of his ugly hat, moves hypnotizingly with the gesture. “You really didn’t have to do that.”
Chuuya scoffs. “I know that, idiot. I wanted to.”
“Why?”
Dazai watches as Chuuya’s shoulders tense, and he turns around with a frown on his face. He chews on his lip as he stares at him, like he’s trying to decide whether this moment calls for his go-to insults or something more honest.
He sighs once he’s made a decision.
“Promise you won’t be an asshole about this.”
“That sappy, uh?” Chuuya rolls his eyes and begins to turn away, but Dazai hurries to grab his arm to stop him. “Wait, wait. I promise.”
Chuuya squints at him, and those electric blue eyes wander around his face in search of some sign of deceit. But Dazai keeps his promises, especially those made to him, and he must remember that too. His expression melts, and much to Dazai’s delight, a blush spreads over his face.
“You’ve been acting weird since Boss made the announcement; I just wanted to remind you that there are people who care about you,” Chuuya explains, pointedly looking away. As such, he doesn’t notice that Dazai’s jaw is on the floor; he only hears his in lieu of a reply. “You promised you wouldn’t be-“
Dazai wraps his arms around Chuuya’s middle and catches his lips in a kiss.
It’s not the best kiss they’ve shared, admittedly. Their teeth crash, and Chuuya’s mouth tastes like that nasty wine that he keeps telling himself he enjoys just because his beloved Ane-san drinks it, but to Dazai, it feels like home.
It’s maybe how uncoordinated and harsh the kiss is that screams Chuuya, the person that Dazai thinks of when he thinks of home. Ugh, love has made him too sappy.
“Thank you, Chuuya,” he murmurs, letting his lips brush against freckled cheeks.
“Don’t thank me, I barely did anything,” Chuuya protests, pretending to struggle against Dazai’s hold, even as his whole body melts under the affection. “Your friends were already planning to be there anyway.”
Fair enough, Dazai supposes. Oda and Ango spend a lot of time at Lupin. “It must’ve taken a lot of convincing to get Hirotsu and dearest Ane-san to join us, though.”
“It was nothing. Shut up.” Is Chuuya’s immediate rebuttal. Ah, he’s a lost case. “And back off, you stink.”
“I do not. Chuuya made me shower this morning.”
“And you stink again! Did you spill a drink all over yourself?”
Dazai lets go of Chuuya, who pouts at the loss of contact for a fraction of a second before he studies his face into his signature scowl. He’d like to tease him about it, but he’s busy bringing his tie up to his face to sniff it.
He wrinkles his nose when the strong smell of whisky fills his nostrils.
“Uh, I may have.”
When did that even happen? Dazai’s sure that he didn’t get drunk enough to be clumsy; Chuuya is the clumsy one, not him.
Except that now that he thinks about it, there are a couple of hours missing from his memory… Okay, he may have drank more than he remembers. To be fair, he was just going along with Hirotsu’s pace… Which may not have been the best idea; he’s pretty sure that the man doesn’t even have a liver at this point.
“Hopeless,” Chuuya sighs. He takes advantage of Dazai’s distraction to successfully push him away. “Go take a shower.”
“You can’t order me around! I’m an executive!” Chuuya glares at him. “...Fine.” He walks away, making sure to drag his feet so his cruel dog can see how much this pains him.
When he’s a couple of steps behind Chuuya, Dazai turns around and wraps his arms around the other to pull him close to his chest again.
“Didn’t I tell you to-?!”
Dazai silences him with a kiss to his cheek. “Join me?”
Now, contrary to what Chuuya may argue, Dazai isn’t an idiot. He knows that the chances of his partner being willing to shower together while he’s exhausted and a little tipsy from the wine are slim, which is why he pulls out the big guns.
He pouts as Chuuya is taking a breath to say no, and he watches in satisfaction as the resolve in the freckled face crumbles.
“…Fine.”
“Woohoo!”
“Put me down, idiot!”