Work Text:
“Please don’t tell me you’re about to do what I think you’ll do…” Dazai groaned, the bastard propped up on the couch like he owned the place with a glass of water lazily placed on the coffee table. He’s in his pajamas, his pants a dark blue plaid with a gray shirt that had no design, the back of his palm resting over his eyes to shield from the ceiling light.
“What, you think I just have these papers out to have ‘em?” Chuuya is crisscrossed on the floor in front of the couch with a chopstick stabbed in his hair, plucked from the kitchen a few months back, to give his bun some structural integrity. Said papers were scattered all over the once empty half of the coffee table, each one with a bright red circle highlighting phone numbers for Chuuya to call.
While this approach seemed overboard, he was determined to score an interview within that day. If he doesn’t get it done now, god knows when he’ll get it done with how distracted he is with literally everything ever. “Being a bouncer doesn’t even sound that bad. Just kicking some ass and letting people in, right?”
”You’re short, chibi.” Dazai sounds exasperated for once, like he’s doing that annoying thing where he’s rolling his fucking eyes and trying not to explode from saying something ten times. “Plus, it’s not just about letting anybody in and getting into fights, you stupid delinquent.”
”I’m sorry, were you ever a fuckin’ bouncer? I don’t think so!” The redhead raised his voice an octave out of habit, immediately clamping his mouth shut so he doesn’t let the bastard think he’s won. “Whatever, I’m applying anyway.”
He rips the cap off the tip of a different pen and holds it between his teeth, angrily writing another note and throwing that in the other pile that appeared to be just entirely of notes. Anger fueled his mind but so did distraction which also leads to forgetting shit he was gonna do right before he did them. What’s another thing that starts with D and is a distraction?
“Don’t you need training for that?” The brunette adds because of course he has to get the last word in, using his long ass arm to grab the glass sitting on the coaster and bringing it to his lips, not even bothering to properly sit up as he drank with his head tilted up uncomfortably. He dropped his head almost immediately like he lost all the energy necessary to keep up his neck, placing the glass back on the table right next to the coaster because god forbid he extends any more energy out to put the fucking thing on the other thing right?
Chuuya takes a deep breath, his eye catching on the action and taking note of the way his face immediately sours. “Are you serious? Put the damn thing on the coaster, jackass.” He picks up the red pen sitting out in the open with its cap off to scribble something on the paper before setting it down on the pile next to him.
There’s gotta be at least 50 papers stacked on here already. It looks less like he’s looking for a job and more like he’s just looking for something to do. Days off from work were hard when everything in the house was already spotless and there was nowhere to be or nothing to do.
“Eh? Are you this table’s bouncer already?” There’s gotta be a reason why Dazai’s voice sounds more grating than usual, like he’s making it more whiny than it usually is. Nevertheless, Chuuya’s not offering any more energy than he has to for that stupid fish, he has to get this job and get it over with. That’s all.
After a bout of silence, Dazai finally rises from his spot on the couch like a zombie, taking his sweet ass time to yawn and stretch before lowering himself to rest his chin on Chuuya’s shoulder. He still didn’t fix the cup, but Chuuya’s not going to fix it because the principle of the matter was that he didn’t need to do everything for the idiot. “Chuuuuuya…” He hums, nosing into the redhead’s neck in the same way a cat would, “Why not just stay with your old job?”
Fighting the urge to tense up, Chuuya stops focusing on the paper entirely, the train of thought he had completely derailed. “That can’t be comfortable.” He replies, picturing the way Dazai’s breaking his back to sit the way he is.
“I’m perfectly fine, thank you.”
That was their relationship: extending a hand out and waiting without any expectation for the other to reciprocate because they will eventually, even if it took months or years. The trust that they’ve built over the years has never waned — a petty little argument or a full blown fist fight couldn’t seem to shake the bond despite the anger or the intense misery that came with associating with each other.
Chuuya can feel the way he smiles against his skin, moving his head to properly peer at whatever the redhead was previously looking at. “So are you going with that? A bouncer?” Dazai questions, unaware of the way the smell of Chuuya’s shampoo on his brown tufts is making Chuuya feel. It’s such an aching feeling to be reminded of their closeness, words not being enough to fully encapsulate the emotions that swam in his head.
“That’s if they hire me.” He purses his lips, tracing the different numbers with cobalt eyes before dropping that paper into the pile.
”Eh… don’t you need to be like a mitigator or something?” The brunette, Chuuya can already tell, is thumbing through the colossal vault in his head for various insults to use as ammunition. “The chibi is so awfully bad at deescalating, I’d feel embarrassed just letting you have that job knowing I could have done something to stop it—Ouch!”
Letting go of his cheek, Chuuya pushed his face off his shoulder with a free hand and whipped around like a snake. “I’m plenty good at deescalating! Don’t forget, before you, I made a stupid amount of friends.”
“Somehow managing to attract people with your slug slime is not deescalating situations. In fact, I think people would get angrier seeing your stupid, ugly face scrunched up at them like that.” Dazai pouts, his petulant act not shaking Chuuya in the slightest. It was amazing how he hadn't punched a hole through the idiot’s face by now with how close they were in proximity. It would be so easy to just ball up his fist and lunge, but it’d set back his self restraint practice and he just made a bet last week with the bastard in question about it too.
“You want deescalation? I’m literally the king of communicating.” He declared with a finger pointed into the other’s face, not entirely sure if he’s proving his point or worsening it. “I talk to, like, hundreds of people a week. I think I got that shit under my belt.” Probably worsening it. He knows he’s talking completely out of his ass, but he’s tired of Dazai thinking he’s right all the damn time.
The bastard smiles like he already won, “Oh yeah?” He leans closer (down) and just grins. Chuuya’s fingers are squeezing together into his palms, weighing his options carefully and wondering if the bet was even worth it right now.
“Yeah.”
“Hmm?” Well, now he’s fucking confused. Dazai’s got this tone to his voice like he’s playing around all of a sudden right after initiating some kinda challenge. Chuuya’s eyebrow raises, completely unknowing of what to expect next. He won’t say he wasn’t entirely surprised when two slender hands cup his cheeks without warning, pulling Chuuya towards him and quickly closing the space between them. Their lips press together beautifully even if the redhead was a little tense. This moment would be a lot more enjoyable if he didn’t acknowledge he’s letting the other win.
The rushed pace was fast but not unwelcomed, the shorter grabbing hold of Dazai’s shoulders as the brunette worked on planting kisses all over his lips, their teeth clacking together when mouths eventually opened to properly make out. Chuuya forcefully took control as soon as he grounded himself, his fingers reflexively clasping the back of the brunette’s bandaged neck and basking in the way the other shuddered against his mouth. God, that was a little hot.
A strange position meant limited movements — it was hilarious how the fish was bending all the way over and folding into himself like a lawn chair, the redhead choosing to blame it on the fact that he was just sitting and that’s why it was harder to reach. Dazai seemed used to breaking his back for no reason at all anyway.
Chuuya could feel the way his face was heating up against his will, and was sure that Dazai could feel it too. The taller’s lips were dry and a little cracked, pressing against his own with a sudden fervor that wasn’t present 2 seconds ago. Chuuya’s known Dazai for long enough to know that he lived for every one of Chuuya’s reactions, growing increasingly more enthusiastic because the cause of Chuuya’s flushed face was all his fault.
He was a bastard that got everything he wanted and Chuuya was the loser that willingly spoiled him rotten. Those brown puppy eyes are no joke when it comes to Dazai, and anyone who says otherwise has no clue what they’re talking about.
As lips pressed together, Dazai’s head lolled to the side out of habit. The redhead’s thumb finds its way to the other’s gentle pulse, pressing down on the skin and deepening their kiss if only for a moment. Copper curls fell over Chuuya’s shoulder in accordance with his movements, using his other hand to roam underneath his partner’s shirt like a snake, running against the soft bandages and leaving his impression with the heat nestled between his palm and his back.
Teeth caught onto the redhead’s bottom lip, Dazai cheekily pulling away and looking into him with glazed over eyes. His breath was gentle like he didn’t just lure Chuuya away from his task and seduce him into making out with him. It was then he realized a hand had slipped down to squeeze his bicep while he was distracted. Chuuya rolled his eyes, maintaining his peace by promptly placing his hand on Dazai’s face and happily slamming his head into the chair.
His head careened off the cushion after he hit it, Chuuya a little disappointed to not hear a satisfying crack reverberate across the room since the taller’s got bones of dust and his joints look like car accidents without him necessarily being in a lot of those. Oh well, there’s always a next time.
“O—Ow!!!! Why do you keep hurting me!!”
“Hah? You sayin’ you’re surprised or something?” Chuuya’s shoulders sank the moment he mustered up an exasperated look, fully embarrassed by the fact he felt a lot more relieved after their brief ‘eating each other’s faces off’ session. Times like these reminded him that Dazai is the absolute worst person to be around.
He stares at Chuuya with a pout, rubbing the back of his head like that shove did anything but jostle his brain around his skull somewhat. Maybe it could’ve helped with how irritating he was if Chuuya threw him into the couch a little harder. “Chuuya’s still horrible at deescalation, I can’t believe he would make out with someone on the job.” Yeah, a little harder would’ve done the trick.
“Hah!?!”
“Don’t you know? I was testing you and you failed. Royally.” Dazai’s already back to grinning like an idiot — not pouting anymore because now that Chuuya’s peeved, his job is done.
“Tch.” Chuuya frowns, but he’s not really that upset. “Whatever. Wanna know why I’m quitting or not?”
“Eh, I’m not that interested.”
“You…!”