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It is Mother’s Day. Kunikida entered the office. He is always the first detective to arrive, and sometimes he is earlier than Fukuzawa too. This Sunday is not one of those days.
He prepares the office, opening doors and certain cabinets, preparing notes, prepping the desks of his colleagues. Slowly, the detectives mill inside. First Yosano, then Ranpo, the Haruno and the rest of the clerks, then the Tanizaki siblings, then Kenji, smelling freshly of hay, and then Atsushi and Kyouka.
Kunikida supervises everyone, taking care of everyone’s individuality and eccentricities. It is hard to be idealistic, in organisation, romantically, and with every breath he takes. But he does it, so he and everyone he cares for can have some structure.
But there is always something that can knock it down, isn’t it? And in his case, that something is someone, a person, who is more like the very force of chaos and disorder. He is everything his ideals hate, and all that he should hate. But he doesn’t. And that is a problem. The fact that it’s becoming less of a problem is a problem in itself. Because yes, he’s falling. He’s getting over his denial of his own bisexuality, he’s accepting his attraction towards the sterile scent of cotton bandages, and he’s learning that he loves…that he loves…
The door opens and he knows who it is. He turns around, ideal notebook in hand which is now more like a flimsy shield that he uses to protect his vulnerability.
“You’re an hour late, Dazai—”
He stops abruptly, seeing a bouquet of pink and red carnations in Dazai’s hand. And it’s not some cheap bouquet. It’s beautifully arranged, something one would not expect from Dazai unless you were a woman he was about to break the heart of yet again.
He pushes down any feelings that dare to bubble up and show on his face. “What is all this?”
“It’s for you, of course,” Dazai said, with that same cheerful smile that infuriates the blond time and again.
Kunikida nearly drops his ideal notebook, feeling his face heat up. He hadn’t dared to hope, but now… Now his feelings are begging to be spilled at the face of the flowers that represent deep love. But he pushes it down still and composes himself. “Let me guess, you blew something up again and you want me to clean up the mess.”
“Actually, it’s the opposite. I want to thank you, genuinely!”
“Bullshit. You don’t ever thank anyone.”
“But…I’ve heard that it’s rude to ignore a mother on Mother’s Day.”
The room goes silent. Kunikida’s eyes widen, his body stilling. “What…did you just say…?”
Dazai just smiled innocently and offered the bouquet. “Happy Mother’s Day, Kunikida-kun, for always nagging and cleaning up after me like a mother.”
Silence. And the room around them interrupts in disbelief, wheezes and chortles. But Kunikida is not laughing. He is not even shouting. He is completely frozen, like he has been shot through the heart. Heck, a bullet would have hurt less. Because the petals of his love had not just been plucked off, but the flower had been put in a vase where it did not belong.
"... What...?"
"Oh come on, it's not that complicated, Ku-ni-ki-da~ You're organising, always on our backs, chewing us off when we miss a deadline, but caring for us when we come back from a failed mission. You're a complete mama bear!"
Kunikida sputters helplessly. He knows that the surprise is just a method to get a reaction from him, but he can't stop his heart from crushing with disappointment.
Dazai smirks victoriously. “I really took your breath away, Kunikida-kun~ You’re too shocked to be screaming at me.”
Kunikida’s face reddens, this time with anger and humiliation. Dazai not only cannot see the consequences of his little stunt, but he is also mocking Kunikida’s reaction. He looks at Dazai's smirk, but is actually trying to look through it, wanting to see if he is truly oblivious or if there is something else behind his enigmatic charm. Does Dazai know? Is this a ploy to push him away? Is it a ploy to...reject him?
He grabs the bouquet, not to accept it, but to hurl it across the room and at a wall with alarming venom and strength. A few stray petals fly beautifully and away from the bouquet, landing elegantly. But the petals that fly when the bouquet hits the wall are volatile, raging, hurt.
“GET TO WORK, DAZAI!” Kunikida’s shout is a lot more thunderous, grabbing a much larger stack of files and responsibility out of spite. He smacks it down on the table so hard that the hard premium wood groans.
“Oh, did my mother hen not like my gift?~” Dazai drapes an arm across his forehead.
“DAZAI, I WILL THROW YOU OUT THE WINDOW—” His voice dies down before he can control it.
“Oh? You stopped mid-lecture, mother~” Dazai taunts playfully.
Fukuzawa pokes his head out his office. “That’s enough. We have Yokohama’s mothers to protect. And you, Osamu. Stop bothering Doppo.”
Well, Dazai doesn’t talk back to the President, so he acts obedient for now.
Kunikida’s face is hidden in the shadows of his bangs and he keeps it that way as he grabs his stuff, acting as if he is prepping for a mission. Atsushi chimes in innocently, “Oh I didn’t know that we had a mission today—”
“Solo mission,” Kunikida says briefly and leaves before Atsushi or anyone else can ask him anything else.
He steps out, his steps heavy but purposeful and confident to a passerby. To anyone else, he looks like detective pondering about a difficult case. But he knows… Oh he knows…
Carnations truly are poisonous.