Work Text:
There are things Dazai has to learn now, or rather recondition himself. Almost like when you pick up a sports game as a kid and become very good at it on your local playground, but when you actually sign up to a club — you're suddenly faced with understanding that all of your techniques are wrong and if you aim to achieve real results in the future — you have to fry the neurons' connections responsible for habitual reactions and build new ones. Proper one. That's how Dazai views his life now, presenting as an alpha at twenty three.
He struggles with being perceived in a fashion he can't control. The life(s) he built have a certain imaginary of him he can't anymore maintain as easily because his scent keeps betraying it. What's the point in playing up distress if nothing spikes in his scent profile. Or the opposite, actually. How he can pretend being unbothered, if the mere sight of Chuuya walking out of the bathroom in silk pyjamas has him salivating, nutmeg and saffron filling up the room almost instantly and bringing up a smug grin on Chuuya's lips.
"Dog," he mocks him lightly before joining him on the bed. Freshly changed, because the previous one didn't survive the end of his rut.
"I thought we agreed to stop with a dog talk?" Dazai whines and drops the bandage roll onto the covers between them for Chuuya to pick up and resume unwrapping his chest.
"Yeah, sure, as if. You get to spit that bullshit at me for almost a decade and I'm supposed to quit it because it suddenly hurts your feelings when aimed at you?" there's no malice in his voice. "I'm still not over the fact that you thought I was into that shit when wearing a collar."
Dazai cringes. "Not letting this one slide, are you?"
"Nope," Chuuya's smile looks devilish. His touch remains feather-light on Dazai's skin, his scent — faint in the air, almost undetectable if you don't lean close enough to warm his skin with your breath. Chuuya has immaculate control over his scent and Dazai's sure he's getting off on rubbing the fact in his face. He just has no proof. Yet.
"It's not gonna be long, you know," Dazai confidently states. "Before I can control it to the tiniest bit. Like everything else. And I won't even need a collar!"
Chuuya just scoffs at him. "That's not what these collars are for, smart-ass. Also, I'm not wearing one now."
Dazai gulps loudly when Chuuya bares his throat demonstratively. The pale column of his neck is littered in hickeys and bites, some fading already and some fresh, scattered in a pattern that's invisible to everyone but Dazai. His mating gland is also swollen and slightly red, not claimed yet. Dazai is still earning his forgiveness.
"Well then, I'm sure I can master it faster than you then. You spent what, two or three years on that, I'll reign it under a month. Next time I have to interact with Mori he won't even know I presented."
Chuuya loudly laughs at that.
"Have you forgotten already that you stormed my office while in rut? The whole Port Mafia knows, genius."
"Well then, maybe I won't come to the building at all. I can do my job from here," he pats the bed and flops down on it once Chuuya takes last of the gauze off of him. "Chuuya's nest is more comfortable than whatever hole-in-wall Mori got set up for me."
"What kind of an executive would you be, if you were to never step foot in the office?" Chuuya teases, and when Dazai sceptically lifts his brows and imitates taking off a hat while shooting from a finger gun, Chuuya sighs. "Touché."
"Can't blame the guy, the place sucks," he grimaces when a stinging swat lands on his thigh. "What? It's true! It's one thing to be able to smell everything and the other — to be affected by it. How do you stand being there everyday?"
"You get used to it. It's gonna be easier once the novelty wears off," Chuuya gently rubs over the spot he hit earlier, Dazai's dick betraying him as obviously as his scent does. Probably should've gotten pyjamas bottoms that weren't so thin.
"Like I have the patience to wait so long."
"Patience is a virtue, Dazai," Chuuya gives him back the words he himself once said. "Let's make a bet then," he playfully suggests after lying down on the side, tracing the scars on Dazai's chest with his fingers. "If you get complete control over your newly acquired alpha-instincts faster than I did — you win. You can even pick the wager."
"Mon petit mafioso, it's like you actually want to lose!" Dazai exclaims extremely pleased. "You can't truly think it'll take me that long."
Chuuya's smile is almost sly.
"Why do you even think it took me years?"
Dazai loudly sniffs the air.
"It's because I used to smell you all the time when we were teenagers. Means you learnt how to control it only after I left. So like, two-to-three years. Give or take."
Chuuya laughs loudly at his admission. The air around them suddenly fills with familiar bergamot and tobacco, the woody undertones in both of their scents combining nicely. Dazai loves how they smell together.
"Like that?" he asks almost innocently, and scoots closer on the bed when Dazai nods to whisper in his ear. "It's because I used to sooth you constantly, stupid alpha."
Dazai raises up on his elbows a little and turns to face Chuuya.
"What do you mean, sooth me? What am I, a baby?" he sounds almost offended.
"A coughing baby. And a hydrogen bomb," he forces him down on the bed with a palm to his sternum. "Do you not remember how unhinged you used to be? Why do you think the Boss never issued you a gun? Everyone was afraid you'd shoot through the mag at first inconvenience. It's one thing to replace the grunts or mend connections for him; it's another if you were to blow your own brains out. Elise can't heal you. Even your agency doctor won't be able to heal you."
Dazai thinks about it for a second. Something doesn't add up. He can't help neither a spike of rose in his scent, nor a wide smile when he realizes.
"But Chuuya~, I couldn't be affected by it at that time. I haven't presented yet!" He watches blush spread onto Chuuya's cheeks. "Oh my god, Chuuya! You were courting me?"
"You gave me a mating collar, you dipshit!" He huffs annoyingly. "If anything, I was courting back."
"Ah-ah-ah, you don't get to spin it like that, you had a crush on me!"
Chuuya shoves him from the bed and hits with one of the pillows.
"Go sleep somewhere else, dipshit."
Dazai stands up and hugs the pillow, burying his nose in it. It smells like Chuuya's hair conditioner that he uses since they were teenagers. Vanilla one. Not exactly Dazai's scent, but probably the closest one he could find among artificial fragrances all those years ago. The smile hurts Dazai's face — so wide and earnest.
"It's okay, though. I had a crush on Chuuya too."