Work Text:
The office was quieter than usual that afternoon. Most of the cases had already been closed by that point, Kunikida was in a meeting with the president, and Ranpo had left early, insisting that "nothing interesting would happen today anyway." This left the younger members with free time and, unfortunately for Dazai, with a lot of curiosity.
It started when Kyouka, who had been eating a couple of mochi that Ranpo had left her, asked the question that sparked everything:
"Dazai-san, why are you wearing a ring?"
Dazai, who had been pretending to read a document while actually doodling in the margins, looked up.
"Hmm?"
"Your ring." Kyouka repeated, pointing to his left hand. "On your ring finger. Are you married?"
The silence that followed was absolute — so complete that even Atsushi nearly choked on his tea, Tanizaki stopped typing on his computer, Naomi spun all the way around in her chair (which she'd been spinning in since Haruno had to leave), and Kenji, who had been gazing out the window, turned around with interest.
"Dazai-san, are you MARRIED?" asked Atsushi, his voice jumping up an octave.
Dazai glanced at his hand, where a simple silver ring adorned his left ring finger. He'd been wearing it since he joined the Agency two years ago, and apparently no one had noticed until now.
"Interesting question," Dazai replied with a smile.
"That's not an answer!" protested Naomi.
"Isn't it?"
"No!"
Dazai examined the ring as though seeing it for the first time.
"You know... this ring has quite an interesting story—" he said, causing everyone to lean forward— "But it's a secret~"
"Dazai-san!" Atsushi groaned.
"What? I didn't say I wasn't married."
"But the ring!" Tanizaki pointed out.
"What about it?"
"It's on your ring finger!"
"Maybe I just like that finger."
"Nobody wears a ring there just because they like the finger!"
"I do."
Kenji raised his hand, as if he were in class.
"Dazai-san, does the ring mean you love someone?"
"That's adorable, Kenji!" Naomi exclaimed, clasping her hands together.
"Hmm." Dazai thought for a moment. "I suppose it does mean that."
"Ah, so you ARE married!" said Atsushi triumphantly.
"I didn't say that."
"But you just—!"
"I said I love someone. I never mentioned marriage."
"The ring implies marriage!"
"Does it? How limiting."
Kyouka, ignoring the chaos that had broken out and the obvious frustration already building in Atsushi, continued her interrogation.
"Do you live with someone?"
Dazai looked at her for a moment before answering.
"Yes."
Everyone went quiet again.
"YOU LIVE WITH SOMEONE?" Atsushi yelped.
"That's what I said."
"Who?"
"Someone."
"That doesn't help!"
"Doesn't it?"
Tanizaki clutched his head.
"Alright, let's break this down. Is it a romantic partner?"
"Hmm, what do you mean by romantic?"
"You know! Someone you're in a relationship with."
"I'm in a relationship with many people — for example—" Dazai raised a finger and gestured toward them all— "all of you."
"Not that kind of relationship!"
"Then tell me which kind."
Naomi stepped in:
"Dazai-san, are you in a romantic or sexual relationship with the person you share a home with?"
"Ah, much better question." He smiled. "Yes."
"And that person gave you the ring?"
"Yes."
"As a symbol of commitment?"
"You could say that."
"Then you're married!" Atsushi declared.
"Am I?" Dazai tilted his head.
Kenji raised his hand again.
"Dazai-san, is she a beautiful woman?"
Everyone turned to look at Kenji.
"Why do you assume it's a woman?" asked Kyouka.
"Because Dazai-san always flirts with beautiful women!" Kenji replied cheerfully.
"Fair point..." Tanizaki admitted.
Dazai smiled.
"Kenji-kun is right that I flirt with beautiful women."
"Ah, so it IS a woman!" Atsushi seemed convinced.
"I didn't say that."
"But—!"
"I said I flirt with women. I never said my partner was one."
Silence.
"Wait!" Naomi narrowed her eyes. "So it's a man?"
"Is it?"
"Dazai-san!"
"What? I don't want to ruin the fun of you guessing."
"Does your partner know you flirt with other people?" asked Kyouka.
"Yes."
"Does it bother them?"
"Quite a lot."
"But they allow it?"
"'Allow' is a strong word," Dazai laughed. "They tolerate it, more like. Though they complain about it plenty."
"That sounds like a dysfunctional relationship," Tanizaki observed.
"On the contrary, it works very well."
"How?"
"Because it works for us."
Atsushi slammed his face onto his desk, too exhausted by the non-answers to keep going the same way. He tried a different approach.
"How long have you been together?"
"Depends on how you count."
"What do you mean, depends?"
"Well — from when we met? From the official commitment?"
"The official commitment!"
"That was about..." Dazai counted on his fingers. "...four years ago."
"FOUR YEARS?!" everyone shouted at once.
"Give or take."
"That means you were eighteen!" Atsushi calculated quickly.
"Atsushi-kun's math is correct."
"But... that's so young!"
"Is it?" Dazai shrugged. "It didn't feel young at the time."
Naomi, who had been relatively quiet while taking mental notes, seemed to be tallying everything up.
"Alright, so... ring for four years, living together... your partner tolerates you flirting with others..."
"Sounds right so far."
"And you never told us any of this?"
"You never asked."
"Because we didn't know we had to ask!"
"Well, now you do."
"Do you love this person?" Kyouka asked again.
The noise stopped for a moment as everyone's eyes landed on Dazai, who met their gaze with a smile that was, just slightly, softer than usual.
"Yes," he said. "Very much."
"Oh," said Kyouka, satisfied. The rest of the group, however, erupted into a fresh wave of questions and hasty conclusions.
"Then you're definitely married!"
"Am I?"
"Dazai-san!"
Dazai stood, picking up the coat he'd set aside earlier.
"This has been a fascinating conversation, but I have to go."
"Where?"
"Home," he said, as if it were obvious.
"But it's only 4 PM!"
"Yes, well, I have... matters to attend to."
"What kind of matters?" Naomi asked, suspicious.
"Personal ones."
"That doesn't clarify anything!"
Dazai smiled and walked toward the door.
"See you all tomorrow~"
"Wait! At least tell us if it's a man or a woman!"
"Where's the fun in that?"
"Dazai-san!"
But he was already out the door, leaving the Agency's younger members in a small state of chaos.
"Okay," Atsushi said after a moment. "What did we actually learn?"
"That Dazai-san is in a serious relationship," said Kyouka.
"That it's been four years," added Tanizaki.
"That he lives with this person," continued Naomi.
"And that he loves them!" Kenji finished, cheerfully.
"But—" Atsushi sank into his chair— "we still don't know if he's married, or who it is, or their gender, or anything actually useful."
"Dazai-san is very good at keeping secrets," Kyouka observed.
"Too good..." Tanizaki muttered.
Meanwhile, Dazai walked through the streets of Yokohama with his hands in his pockets, whistling without a care in the world. The interrogation had been more entertaining than the paperwork. He passed a florist's shop and stopped when a display of red camellias in the window caught his eye — they must have just bloomed, the red was so vivid, so exactly like—well.
"Good afternoon," he greeted the florist as he stepped inside. "I'd like a bouquet of red camellias."
"Of course — any special occasion?"
"You could say that."
The florist put together a beautiful arrangement while Dazai waited, absently drumming his fingers on the counter.
"A gift for someone special?" the florist asked kindly as he wrapped the flowers.
"Mm. Very special."
"Your wife is lucky."
Dazai smiled without correcting the assumption.
"I'm the lucky one, actually."
He paid for the flowers and continued on his way. Two streets later, he stopped in front of a wine shop — something in the window had caught his eye again: a bottle of 1998 Pétrus. The price was frankly absurd, probably more than he earned in a month at the Agency, but that didn't stop him from going in.
Ten minutes later he walked out with the bottle carefully wrapped and his wallet noticeably lighter. He'd probably have to skip meals that week to make up for it, but he was certain it was worth it.
He kept walking and passed a pharmacy, where a sign in the window announced "BANDAGES ON SALE!"
That was exactly what he needed.
He went in and grabbed several boxes, and while waiting in line, his gaze drifted to a shelf of household items — a white ceramic mug with a shiba inu painted on it, tongue out, wearing a goofy expression. Ridiculous, he thought, before picking that up too.
He paid for everything (the bandage discount helped soften the blow to the budget that the wine had caused) and went on his way.
The building he arrived at half an hour later was nothing like his old lodgings — it was in one of Yokohama's most exclusive neighborhoods. He crossed the lobby with a wave to the doorman.
"Good afternoon, Dazai-san."
"Good afternoon."
The elevator took him up to the penthouse, the only unit on that floor. Dazai pulled out his keys — decorated with a small black cat keychain — and unlocked the door.
"Tadaima," he called, slipping off his shoes.
A delicious aroma immediately filled the air, and his stomach made its protests known.
He walked toward the open kitchen, and there, in comfortable clothes with his hair pulled up in a messy bun, was his partner, stirring something in a pot. Dazai lingered in the doorway for a moment, just watching.
Chuuya didn't seem to notice him — too focused on what he was doing, humming quietly to himself the way he always did when he cooked.
"Okaeri," said Chuuya without turning around, tasting the food.
"How did you know it was me?"
"I recognize your footsteps."
"How romantic~"
"Shut up," Chuuya replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Dazai approached, setting his bags down on the kitchen island, and slipped behind Chuuya, wrapping his arms around his waist.
"What are you making?" He rested his chin on his shoulder.
"Beef bourguignon. If you distract me, you'll ruin it."
"I'm not distracting you, I'm hugging you."
"Same thing."
"How cruel..." Dazai didn't move, perfectly content to stay there while Chuuya cooked.
This was a different world from who they were outside — it was no secret between them just how clingy Dazai could get the moment they were home.
"What did you bring?" Chuuya asked, nodding toward the bags.
"Surprises."
"If it's more of your nonsense, I swear—"
"It's not." Dazai interrupted, and picked up the camellias first. "These are for you."
Chuuya turned around, and when he saw the flowers, his expression softened, just slightly.
"...Camellias?"
"Your favorites."
"I don't have favorites."
"Liar." Dazai held the flowers out. "Red camellias mean 'my wish to spend my life by your side.'"
"That's disgusting..." Chuuya rolled his eyes, but took the flowers carefully in his arms.
Dazai noticed him smiling as he looked for a vase, filled it with water, and arranged the flowers gently on the table where they could be properly admired.
"What else?" Chuuya returned to the kitchen.
"This." Dazai pulled out the bottle of wine.
Chuuya looked at the label and froze for a moment, opening and closing his mouth like a fish before words came out.
"Is that...?"
"Yes."
"Dazai, that wine costs—"
"I don't care."
"Your wallet should care..."
"My wallet made a valiant sacrifice for a worthy cause."
"You're an idiot..." Chuuya took the bottle with something close to reverence. "This is... really something."
"I know. That's why I bought it."
"Idiot," Chuuya repeated, softer this time, setting it down carefully as he returned to the stove. "Anything else?"
"Yes." Dazai reached back into the bag, moving his own things aside, and produced the little shiba inu mug with obvious pride.
Chuuya stared at it for a second, then looked up at Dazai.
"What is that?"
"A mug."
"Clearly..."
"With a little dog on it."
"Why did you buy a mug with a little dog on it?"
"Because it reminded me of you. And you like them."
"What?"
"Look at it — thinks it's intimidating but is actually adorable. Just like you."
"Don't call me adorable."
"You are."
"I could kill you if I wanted to."
"I expect nothing less."
"I think I want the divorce."
"No you don't."
Chuuya growled, but didn't argue that last part.
"The mug is stupid."
"Don't you want it?"
"...I didn't say that." Chuuya took it and examined it. "I can use it for coffee."
Dazai looked satisfied.
"I knew you'd like it."
"I didn't say I liked it."
Chuuya carried the mug to the cabinet and set it among the others. Dazai smiled and moved in again, wrapping his arms around Chuuya from behind.
"Seriously, you're going to ruin the food—"
"Mm." Dazai rested his head on Chuuya's shoulder. Chuuya sighed — long used to these little rituals of affection that the taller man always seemed to need the moment he got home, as if he had to recharge after spending all day pretending to be useful at the office.
After a few quiet minutes, Chuuya spoke again.
"How was your day?"
"Interesting. Kyouka asked if I was married."
"And what did you tell her?"
"Nothing useful."
"Of course you didn't." Chuuya shook his head. "You could just tell them."
"Where's the fun in that? I'm mysterious."
"It's your marital status."
"Our marital status."
"...Right."
A comfortable silence settled between them after that, broken only by the sounds from the stove.
"What about you? How was your day?" Dazai asked.
"Boring. Akutagawa almost set a warehouse on fire."
"Almost? That's it?"
"I stopped him just in time."
"How considerate of you."
"One of us has to be..."
"Hey! I work too."
"You hide from Kunikida and pretend to read documents..."
"That takes considerable mental effort, thank you."
"That's not real work."
"Pretending to care about paperwork is a full-time job for my brain, alright?"
Chuuya snorted, but the smile on his face was undeniable. When the food was ready, he began serving it into two plates. Dazai finally let go and went to sit at the table.
The apartment was spacious — floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room that showed Yokohama at night, a dining table they rarely used since they mostly ate at the island, two bedrooms (one for sleeping, one mostly for Chuuya's wine collection), and two bathrooms. It was the kind of place Chuuya could afford on his salary. Dazai... not so much. But Chuuya never brought it up all that often, and Dazai contributed in his own way when he could — flowers brought home for no occasion in particular, the occasional bottle of wine that made his budget tremble, the cleaning, which Chuuya despised. In some way or another, it all worked.
Chuuya brought the plates over and sat across from Dazai. The beef bourguignon looked and smelled spectacular, and Dazai knew without question it would be perfect. Chuuya always did everything with care — though Dazai had never thought to ask where he'd learned.
"Wine?" Dazai asked, gesturing to the Pétrus.
"You're out of your mind if you think I'm opening that on a random Tuesday."
"Then what did I buy it for?"
"A special occasion."
"Like what?"
Chuuya shrugged.
"I don't know. An anniversary. A birthday. The day you finally die."
"So romantic."
Chuuya got up, grabbed a different bottle, opened it, and poured two glasses. They ate in comfortable silence, Dazai watching Chuuya between bites — small details, like strands of hair escaping from the bun, a small smear of sauce on his hoodie, the way he looked more relaxed than he ever did at work.
"Stop staring, you're making me feel like I'm being watched," Chuuya muttered without looking up.
"You're cute."
"I'm not cute."
Chuuya threw a napkin at him. It hit Dazai square in the face.
After dinner, Dazai insisted on doing the dishes despite Chuuya's protests. Eventually Chuuya gave up and dropped onto the sofa with his glass of wine. Dazai finished quickly and joined him soon after, immediately stretching out and laying his head in Chuuya's lap.
"You're heavy," the other complained, but his hand moved almost on instinct to card through Dazai's hair.
"Mm."
"Are you tired?"
"A little."
"Rough case?"
"No, just... a long day."
"Mm..." The television was on at a low volume, playing some news program neither of them was really watching — more background noise than anything.
It wasn't ideal, keeping the marriage a secret, performing indifference in public, living separate lives during the day only to find each other at night — but it worked well enough. Four years of it now, since they were both eighteen, young and foolish enough to think that signing marriage papers drunk at three in the morning after a terrible mission was a good idea.
Then Dazai disappeared four months later. And yet, they never divorced. Two years after that, once Dazai was settled at the Agency, he showed up at Chuuya's door as if he'd always lived there, citing the fact that they were still, technically, married. Chuuya had tried to kick him out — and ended up pulling him inside and kissing him until neither of them could breathe.
"Chuuya."
"What?"
"I love you."
Chuuya went still for a moment. Dazai rarely said it out loud — he tended to show it instead, in gestures like the ones he'd made today. Hearing it in words was strange.
"...Me too."
Dazai smiled, eyes closing, letting himself go completely still for a while. He knew that later they'd move to the bedroom and Chuuya would start complaining about having to get up early, and Dazai would steal all the blankets until Chuuya shoved him off the bed.