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Morning light filtered gently through the blinds, casting golden streaks across the kitchen counter as Atsushi stirred miso soup on the stove. The soft clink of the wooden spoon against the ceramic pot was rhythmic, almost meditative. Outside, a faint breeze rustled the leaves on the trees, carrying with it the subtle scent of early spring blooms. The apartment was quiet, except for the gentle hum of the city waking up. His thoughts wandered, as they often did, to how far he’d come, from the cold nights at the orphanage, from being hunted like a beast, to now, waking up warm, safe, surrounded by people who cared about him.
He had learned what safety felt like, not just the absence of danger, but the presence of quiet moments like this. Moments that weren’t rushed or overshadowed by fear or anger. He remembered those first days in the agency, the nights spent staring at the ceiling, waiting for nightmares to find him. Now, here he was, and it felt almost unreal.
Footsteps padded softly behind him. He didn’t turn around, already knowing who it was.
“Good morning, Kyouka”- He said, voice soft with affection.
She shuffled closer, still in her pajamas, hair slightly mussed from sleep. Without saying a word, she leaned into him. The weight of her quiet comfort grounded him, reminded him that he wasn’t alone anymore. Atsushi turned and smiled, immediately wrapping his arms around her gently. He could tell she was still fighting the remnants of sleep from the hug, loose, warm. He held her a little longer today, squeezing gently between his arms, just enough to say 'I’m glad you’re here.'
“Breakfast smells good”- Kyouka mumbled into his chest.
“It’s almost ready”- He replied before they sat down together in easy silence, eating side by side. There was no need to say more.
It was quiet in Akutagawa’s apartment, a rare lull in their unpredictable lives. Akutagawa sat on the couch, a book in hand, though he hadn’t turned the page in several minutes. His sharp eyes were unfocused, drifting over the words without really absorbing them. The silence was heavy, almost charged, as if the air itself was waiting for something to shift. Atsushi hovered nearby, unsure, fingers curling and uncurling in hesitation. Their relationship, whatever it was at the moment, was still fragile, like glass held together by trembling hands.
They had come a long way, that's for sure, going from trying to kill each other to accepting their true feelings for what they were and beginning a more-than-work-partners relationship, however, it was all still so new. Neither of them had any experience in the dating department, much less in the sharing-your-love-openly department.
Atsushi moved just a little closer- “Can I…?” - He began, unsure on how to word his awkward petition.
Akutagawa looked up, expression unreadable but not closed off. His dark eyes flickered with something like hesitation, vulnerability.
Slowly, carefully, Atsushi stepped forward and knelt in front of the couch. He leaned in, arms outstretched, giving Akutagawa all the time in the world to say no and push him away.
He didn’t.
Their bodies met in a quiet embrace, a tentative press of warmth and trust. Akutagawa’s arms, after a beat, came up around Atsushi’s back, hesitant, almost startled by his own willingness. He slowly pulled the tiger closer until he was essentially using him as a weighted blanket. They curled into each other on the couch, the book forgotten on the floor.
It was nice, to be able to trust each other more and more openly, to be able to just be like this, to touch and to feel just because they could. Because they knew they had each other for more than just a fight. Atsushi rested his cheek against Akutagawa’s shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. For once, the chaos of their lives seemed distant, irrelevant. There was only this moment, quiet and full.
Eventually, sleep took them both, slow and steady. When they were like this, Atsushi had no nightmares.
After Fyodor was finally stopped and the war had ended, the city slowly got fixed, just like the people who lived in it. No one would ever forget what happened, but they moved forward. Still, the events didn't just fade away into dust, they just… ebbed and flowed, like the tide. Some days, Atsushi barely remembered Fyodor’s voice or the feeling of cold despair as he saw his family and beloved city crumble. Other days, he swore he could still see those pale, calculating eyes in the corners of every room, mocking him for all his failures and shortcomings.
Today was one of the bad days.
Nothing had particularly set him off, he couldn't even remember the dream he had had that night. He just woke up in a fit of cold sweat and immediately opened the doors of his closet to try to find Kyouka. He didn't find her, just a note that she left saying she was leaving early to go on a case, he already knew that from the day before. It didn't make him feel any better.
He dragged his feet into the agency, steps a little too hurried to see a familiar face, and finally calm the anxiety that clawed his insides and tormented his mind. When he walked into the Agency and spotted Kunikida’s back turned, it wasn’t even a decision, it was instinct. He took off in a sprint and launched himself into the air.
“What in the-?!”- Kunikida staggered under the full weight of a fully grown tiger boy clinging to him like a life-size plush toy. Atsushi had his arms locked around Kunikida’s neck and legs wrapped around his waist like a koala refusing to be peeled off.
Kunikida stood frozen, papers fell from his hands and landed everywhere.
“Atsushi”- He said slowly, it wasn't like the agency wasn't aware of the tiger's occasional odd behavior- “What are you doing?”
“Making sure you’re real”- Came the muffled reply, pale face buried in blond hair.
Dazai, from his desk, burst into laughter- “Ah, the burdens of parenthood.”
“Shut up, Dazai!”- He screamed, although he made no attempts to take the tiger off his back, nor did Dazai attempt to poke any jokes at him. They could both tell he needed this. Kunikida waited patiently for him to hop back off. One minute turned into two, then five, and nearing the 15-minute mark, he decided to just continue with his day and let Atsushi deal with his problems as he saw fit.
Even with that decision, eventually, Kunikida needed to use the bathroom, and with that the baton was passed to the next available detective in the agency, Atsushi shifted from one parental figure to the other with ease, climbing on top of Dazai who was laying in the couch as per usual, having accepted his fate like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“See?”- Dazai said smugly- “Much more comfortable than a walking rulebook.”
They settled on the couch, Atsushi resting his head on Dazai’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but he did, surrounded by warmth and the certainty that he wasn’t alone.
The door creaked open. Atsushi stepped inside, limping slightly, his uniform torn in three places and dried blood crusted on one cheek. His breath came in uneven gasps, muscles trembling from exertion and pain. Every step felt like dragging a weight, not just physical but something heavier, lodged deep in his chest. The lingering scent of blood and damp earth clung to him like a shadow. The mission had been rough, too close, too risky, but they made it. He made it.
And that was all they needed. As soon as he walked into the agency, his name was called loudly from multiple directions.
Yosano was the first to reach him, checking him for injuries that they both knew were fading away already, even as she hugged him.
Kenji barreled into his waist like a missile, nearly knocking him off his feet, completely uncaring of the dirt and blood that was now on his clothes. Then came Tanizaki, Naomi, Ranpo, Kyouka, Kunikida, and finally Dazai, all settling around him one by one, forming a crushing group hug, chaotic and warm. Limbs everywhere, voices overlapping, hands tugging him into the center like he was the fire they all needed to circle.
Instead of feeling compressed or squished, he felt comforted, he could feel the pain slipping out from his body, relaxing back into his normal state. Eventually, they let him go. Atsushi did his best to pretend it didn't upset him as much as it did. With a couple of ruffles of his hair and friendly back pats, they all redistributed to their new missions.
Someone dragged out pillows and blankets. Someone else brought tea. It didn’t matter who. They all sat together on the floor of the office, chatting and eating. Atsushi ended up at the center, head resting on Dazai’s shoulder, Kyoka curled under one arm, Kenji sprawled across his legs. Kunikida sat stiffly at first, but eventually gave in, letting his hand rest on Atsushi’s hair with a sigh.
For a while, no one said anything.
And in that silence, Atsushi closed his eyes and finally, finally allowed himself to rest.