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It all started innocently enough with a text.
Well, it actually started several weeks prior, when Dazai was first informed that there would be a company Christmas party he’d be obligated to attend (something about their sponsors being there and everyone at the ADA having to make an appearance). But considering something as meagre as a Christmas party wasn’t exactly high priority, Dazai forgot about it.
Hence the importance of the text. The text was from Ranpo, which was odd enough. Ranpo rarely ever texts. He prefers ambushing people at their desks, even when asking questions that are better not voiced in public. Poor Atsushi is likely still traumatized from the last time Yosano and Ranpo started talking about their sex lives.
The text was simple. Ranpo asked if Dazai thought it would be fine to bring along a plus one. Apparently, his partner Poe wanted to go to the Christmas party. Dazai very generously offered to let Poe take his place. Unfortunately Ranpo declined, citing that Kunikida would make a scene if they did that.
Still, the idea was planted: if Dazai had to suffer through this party, why not bring someone along so he isn’t alone in his suffering?
So, a couple days later when Dazai is reminded yet again that he must attend the party, he calls Chuuya. The calls goes through almost immediately.
“Whatever it is, no. We’re both supposed to be at work. Call back after work hours.”
Chuuya hangs up.
Dazai stares at his phone. That didn’t exactly go as planned.
He sighs loudly, drawing Atsushi’s attention. As they’re the only two in the office — everyone else is off making sure Kunikida doesn’t ruin the Christmas party by making it too boring or, heaven forbid, banning alcohol — the kid wanders over to chat instead of pretending to be busy.
“Is something wrong, Dazai?”
“Chuuya hung up on me.” Dazai frowns. “Does Akutagawa do that? He seems like the type to wait for you to hang up first.”
Atsushi goes pink and stutters a bit of nonsense that means Dazai is probably right. “What does that have to do with anything? Besides, Akutagawa and I are rivals! We don’t call each other on the phone. That’d be weird. Right?”
Dazai shrugs. “Only if you make it weird.” Weirdness is a moot point; they’re ability users, they’re all weird. “Anyway, want to help me build a gingerbread house?” Dazai pulls out a box kit that’s supposed to have all the pieces required. He’s been hiding it in his desk for almost a month now, waiting for the right moment to strike when Kunikida is absent and someone nice is around to show him how one is supposed to make one of these things.
“Oh, sure! That’d be fun. I haven’t made a gingerbread house in ages!”
Naturally, the gingerbread house incident ends in disaster. But they turn off the fire alarm before it summons any firefighters, so it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been.
The next day, December 23rd, is the day of the party. Dazai finds himself wearing a cheap rental suit, hating it, and knowing there’s no way he can get through this alone. The goal is to not murder anyone and Dazai knows how horrible Christmas parties can be; there’s a reason he got banned from Port Mafia Christmas parties when he was twelve.
He tried calling again last night, but Chuuya didn’t answer. This leaves Dazai with only the most drastic course of action: he rents a car for the day and drives to Port Mafia HQ.
After parking in his spot (still labeled, left empty for him as if Mori expects him to come crawling back after four years), Dazai heads inside and smiles sweetly at the receptionist. She freezes.
“Dazai-san. We… weren’t expecting you. Um, did you have an appointment?”
“Nope! Can you call Chuuya down?”
“Nakahara-san is busy—”
“Please?” Dazai puts on his best smile. “This is important.”
The receptionist hesitates, warring between following orders to not interrupt whatever meeting Chuuya is in and the orders Mori no doubt left for all Dazai’s whims to be catered to so that he’d feel welcome back to the mafia at any time.
“Well, if you insist.” She takes a deep breath and makes the call.
Dazai only needs to wait three minutes for Chuuya to appear. The chibi is red-faced (mad, not embarrassed. An important distinction for knowing how to handle a Chuuya) and each step makes the floor shake. At first Dazai assumes Chuuya is mad at him, but Chuuya seems almost pleased to see him.
“What is it, Dazai?”
Dazai quickly makes a decision based on his brief observations. “Sorry, but it’s top secret. We can talk outside.”
“Fine.” Chuuya grabs Dazai’s arm and drags him along, doing a double take when he spots Dazai’s rental car parked next to his pink motorcycle. Chuuya crosses his arms. “Okay, before you say anything, I’m in as long as it gets me away from here for the next three days.”
Dazai blinks. “What if it’s something really embarrassing?”
“Dazai, I really don’t care. I’m this close to murdering the people I’m supposed to be making a deal with. If I have to stay in a room with them for any longer, someone will lose their head. So let’s just go.” Chuuya climbs onto his bike and looks at Dazai expectantly.
“Oh. Right, yeah sure.” He gets on behind Chuuya. He grips his partner’s waist tight; he’s always hated driving on this thing and its only worse now that he’s taller than he was at eighteen.
Chuuya sets off, driving far faster than is necessary. Dazai closes his eyes and hopes that it’ll be a quick death if Chuuya crashes.
They pause at Chuuya’s house so he can change and Dazai can explain the dreaded Christmas party. Upon hearing said explanation, Chuuya bullies Dazai into getting changed into a better suit and fixes his hair. Their ties match.
Since Chuuya doesn’t want to ruin their hair by taking his motorcycle, they call a taxi and arrive at the ADA Christmas party only twenty minutes late. Dazai is quite pleased; he thought they’d be way later.
Kunikida is not as pleased. They enter, Kunikida stomps over and starts scolding Dazai for his tardiness, and Chuuya fetches them each a glass of champagne. It’s only as Chuuya is handing Dazai a glass that Kunikida stops, blinks, and checks his notebook.
“Dazai, you didn’t say you were bringing a plus one.”
“I forgot.”
“I asked you this morning!”
“Sorry.” Dazai shrugs unapologetically and takes a sip of champagne. It’s horrible. He wrinkles his nose at it and hands it back to Chuuya. “Do I have to talk to anyone or is being here good enough?”
Kunikida sighs. “I’ve already told you all this! No, you don’t have to talk to anyone in particular, but if someone approaches you, please be civil. Most of the sponsors are interested in speaking to the president and Ranpo, so you should be fine. Just don’t make a scene.”
“I’ll try.”
“I’ll keep him out of trouble,” Chuuya says. Kunikida looks oddly grateful and heads off, muttering something about checking in with the others for the few speeches that will happen later.
Dazai hums thoughtfully.
“What?” Chuuya asks.
“I thought Kunikida would be mad you were here.”
Chuuya shrugs. “I don’t have my hat and I’m wearing grey, not black. He probably doesn’t recognize me.”
“Huh. Weird. Chuuya always looks like Chuuya.”
“Hey, I’m not mad. I’d rather not get noticed while surrounded by all your coworkers and a bunch of government officials.”
“Fair.”
They retreat to a corner and settle in for the night, taking turns poking fun at people’s outfits. Dazai starts to relax. Bringing Chuuya means that he has someone who’s stuck talking to him all night, so he isn’t alone and at the mercy of whoever comes over and talks at him. Plus Chuuya is good company. Since Dazai joined the Agency, they haven’t had many chances to just hang out. Sure, they run missions together and team up every so often, but it’s not the same. A mission here and there can’t compare to playing arcade or video games, eating meals together, and eventually becoming roommates.
Dazai only notices that someone is approaching them when Chuuya tenses and cuts off the scathing remark he was making about some guy’s shoes.
“Oh. Hello,” Dazai greets the couple approaching him cordially, wishing they would see that he’s clearly very busy and just go away.
“Hello! How are you enjoying the party?” The man asking is old, with grey hairs and wrinkles that indicate he’s likely retired. The expensive watch and the diamonds his wife is wearing signal that he’s probably one of those sponsors Dazai is supposed to be nice to.
“It’s nice.” Dazai stops there, unsure what else to say. Compared to the chaos he remembers from Port Mafia parties, this one is pretty boring.
“The champagne is good,” Chuuya offers.
The man laughs. “I’m glad you think so! I suggested the brand.”
After an awkward pause, the woman clears her throat. “So, are you one of the detectives? I saw the tall blond one talking to you earlier.”
“Yes, I’m a detective.” It still feels weird to say those words — especially so in front of Chuuya.
“Is it an exciting job? I’ve always wondered what, exactly, goes on behind the scenes.”
“Lots of paperwork.”
Chuuya snorts. Dazai scowls at him. Just because Dazai doesn’t necessarily do said paperwork doesn’t mean there isn’t paperwork to be done. Besides, he can never figure out how Kunikida wants everything filled out, so it’s easier to just write some case notes, submit those, and call it a day.
“Well, I suppose paperwork is a necessity for most jobs.” The woman chuckles. She turns to Chuuya. “Are you a detective too?”
“No, I work with Mori Corp managing shipping and trade.”
The man nods sagely. “Ah, that’s an interesting company. I’ve heard they cycle through high-ranking positions frequently; stay on your toes, young man. Maybe someday you could move up in the industry!”
“Right, thanks.” Chuuya, one of the leading members of the Port Mafia, shares a look with Dazai, ex leading member of the Port Mafia.
The couple spy someone across the room and make their goodbyes, leaving Dazai and Chuuya alone.
“Want another glass of champagne?” Dazai offers, noticing that Chuuya finished off the glass he was holding during that brief conversation.
“Nah, the champagne isn’t actually that good.”
Dazai looks around. Ranpo indeed brought Poe along tonight and is busy hiding behind President Fukuzawa’s shoulder, Yosano is heckling Kunikida, and the younger staff members are crowded around the snack table, cheering as Atsushi shoves what looks like a fifth mini quiche into his mouth.
“Wanna just get out of here?” Dazai asks. He’s pretty sure everyone saw him show up. That should mean he’s free to leave.
“Absolutely.”
They leave without saying goodbye and thus without giving anyone a chance to prevent their easy escape.
Since it’s late and almost Christmas, most stores are closed, likely to reopen for a short few hours tomorrow for last minute gift purchases. That means that — once Chuuya picks the locks (Dazai is a law-abiding citizen now, so he turns his back to have deniability) — they are the only ones in the arcade. Dazai proceeds to win six of the seven matches and only looses the last one because Chuuya unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up. It’s not Dazai’s fault Chuuya has very distracting forearms.
In any case, they leave with only two broken machines in their wake and they politely relock the door behind them, so it was a general success.
“So, what now?” Chuuya asks.
Dazai shrugs. “Could watch a movie?”
“A holiday one?” Chuuya raises an eyebrow.
“I guess.” Dazai doesn’t bother trying to sound enthused.
“Okay. We’re going to my place; my TV is better.”
Upon arrival, Dazai strips out of the uncomfy layers of his suit, throwing the various pieces onto Chuuya’s floor until only the undershirt and pants remain. The pants itch, but he and Chuuya aren’t exactly close in height anymore, so Dazai probably can’t borrow something without it being awkward.
Chuuya comes back from getting changed into pajamas and frowns, making a similar observation. “You only get to borrow my sweatpants if you don’t make a joke about showing off your ankles.”
“I can agree to those terms.”
The pants are several inches too short and he has to wear them low on his hips, but they don’t scratch like the suit pants, so it’s still a win.
Dazai settles on the couch and yawns pre-emptively as Chuuya cues up a movie. It’s something boring-looking. Dazai doesn’t really understand the ability to watch an entire Christmas movie without falling asleep, but Chuuya likes them, so—
“Hey, would it be weird if I asked you to kiss me?”
Dazai’s brain short circuits.
Chuuya laughs awkwardly. “Right. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything—”
“No!” Dazai blurts once he remembers how to speak. “No, it— I’m okay with that. Good with that. Uh. Sounds like a good plan to me.”
“Really? Huh. Okay then. What about this?” Chuuya shifts onto his lap and Dazai’s brain promptly withers and dies. “Wow. I didn’t think you could blush.”
“I—” Dazai swallows heavily. His hands hover around Chuuya’s hips, an inch away. “Am I allowed to touch Chuuya?”
“I’ll be mad if you don’t.”
“Okay.” Dazai lets his hands settle on Chuuya’s hips. The muscles are firm and warm and absolutely perfect.
Then Chuuya kisses him, and Dazai stops thinking entirely.
Dazai stays at Chuuya’s till after Christmas. His rental car is way overdue. He updates his Agency paperwork to add Chuuya as his significant other and emergency contact. Kunikida screeches at him for almost an entire hour upon realizing Dazai brought a Port Mafia executive to their Christmas party. Dazai deletes the calls from Mori wondering if he and Chuuya getting married means Dazai is finally ready to come back to the Port Mafia. He asks Chuuya when they got married. Chuuya just laughs and says maybe they can get married next year.