Work Text:
Dazai had settled himself on the sofa in their joint office, but rather than sprawling prone, he was seated largely upright in a corner, with a laptop whirring on his lap. A small plastic bag of cat treats was wedged between his thigh and the back of the sofa. Periodically he meowed and held up a cat treat in the direction of Storm, who ignored him and continued sunbathing on the windowsill. Whenever he did so, Cloud returned from her wanderings and leaped gracefully up onto the sofa, climbing his lap to accept the treat and cuddles, after which she would hop down again and resume her explorations.
“You don’t need to warm up your lap for her,” Chuuya said. “She just isn’t in the mood for cuddles right now.”
“Maybe she’d come over if you weren’t blocking her way,” Dazai - pouted, was the only word that fit, in Chuuya’s opinion.
“I’m not blocking her,” Chuuya said distractedly as he moved around on his knees in front of the window, trying to get the perfect angle. “There’s plenty of room for her to go around me if she wants.” He took a couple more pictures and cooed when Storm turned her head to try to figure out why the human was on the floor. “Oh, what a good girl, posing for Papa,” he praised.
Cloud came over to see what was going on and climbed up onto Chuuya’s thigh, then walked across his other thigh and off him again. She prowled back over to the sofa and climbed up on it, walking over to Dazai and climbing up his chest and nosing at his mouth.
“Who’s a good angel?” Dazai said, his voice pleased. “Yes, you are.”
Chuuya knee-walked quickly over to get a picture of Cloud nose-kissing Dazai, and then stood and took pictures from several other angles, culminating in precariously balancing himself on his side along the back of the sofa so that he could get a shot over Dazai’s shoulder.
Once he managed to work himself back to his feet without disturbing his beautiful people, he came around and snagged one of the treats from the bag and carried it softly over to Storm, walking slowly so as not to startle her. He held out the treat, and she deigned to take it. He snuck a quick little stroke in of her chin and cheek as she gave it two or three little chews before swallowing it, and then she turned her face back out the window.
Dazai, meanwhile, continued planting little kisses on Cloud’s head until she leapt down again to go to the cats’ fresh-running water dish.
Chuuya turned reluctantly and headed back to his desk. He looked through the pictures, and selected two and sent them to Yosano and Kunikida and Atsushi. “Okay,” he said, setting his phone down. “Back to work.” He wiggled the mouse to wake his laptop. As he entered his passcode, he looked over at Dazai and asked, “So what do you-” and was interrupted by his phone letting off a special ring, almost an alarm.
He answered the phone as he leaped to his feet. “Nakahara.” He listened for a few seconds, the only sound being the pounding of his feet as he ran for the office door, Dazai close behind him. As he crossed the waiting room he said, “On my way.” He hung up the phone and as his outstretched hand reached for the fire door, he threw over his shoulder, “Don’t leave the door open, they’re supposed to stay in a single room for the first week.” He vanished, the heavy door swinging shut behind him.
Dazai returned to the office, closing the door, and found that Storm had moved into his seat. “What a good girl,” he said, and carefully took the seat next to her, craning his head over his shoulder to watch out the window to see if he could see Chuuya leaving the roof. After thirty seconds, he concluded his husband must have gone in a different direction, and he took out his phone and began checking news feeds and social media feeds for emergencies in Yokohama.
He winced as Storm reached out and began kneading his thigh, her claws digging in a bit. Well, it hurts, but attention is attention, he thought, amused. I’ll take it. “Who’s Daddy’s girl?” he asked, and reached down with his other hand to stroke her ears.
Over at Chuuya’s desk, Cloud walked across, batted at a pen, and then settled herself on his keyboard.
Chuuya launched himself from the roof of their building, his trajectory a parabola that would end with him in the business district among the tallest skyscrapers Yokohama had to offer. As he came back down from airplane height, the air being ripped by his passage sounded like a scream, and he saw his target.
A worker in a rappelling harness, his line dangling, was hanging from one end of a large banner that he had presumably been mounting on the side of the building. It was unclear at this distance whether it was the line or its connector that had failed, but the distinction was immaterial. Thankfully, the worker had managed to wrap his arm up in the rope that ran through the end of the banner in order to hang it, or else he’d have undoubtedly lost his grip before Chuuya arrived.
As soon as he was within range, Chuuya activated Upon The Tainted Sorrow, relieving the worker of the burden of gravity. As he swooped closer, he could see that the man’s face was a mess of conflicting reactions, as he attempted to understand what was happening to him.
“I’ve got you,” Chuuya said as he came to a halt next to the man, both of them glowing red. He eyed the man’s arm, which was still wrapped tightly in loops of the rope. His hand and lower arm were red, borderline purple, and swollen. “Come on, let’s get you untangled,” he said, and helped the man unwind his arm. The rope marks were deep, and Chuuya frowned. He can’t have been like this too long, he thought. Hopefully he didn’t lose circulation for long enough to do any damage. He glanced down at the street sixty floors below, and saw emergency lights going. One of those is bound to be an ambulance.
“All right,” Chuuya said bracingly. “We’re gonna get you down now. Just stay calm.” He began floating them down to the street, taking care to go slowly enough that it wouldn’t feel like they were falling.
The worker nodded, swallowing. “Thank you,” he said, his voice raw.
“No problem,” Chuuya said comfortably. “So what’s your name?” he asked, and kept up an easy conversation to distract his companion until they touched ground.
Upon landing, they were immediately surrounded by EMTs and a fireman, and at a farther remove by innumerable bystanders filming them with their phones, held back by more police.
Chuuya made sure that the EMTs knew to check the man’s arm, and once his charge had been handed over for treatment, the fire chief, who turned out to be the one who had called Chuuya on the emergency line, thanked him for his assistance. Chuuya responded with his usual professionalism, and the police and fire chief continued holding the bystanders back as Chuuya launched himself into the air and headed back to the office.
As Chuuya reached their building, he saw that several windows were occupied by faces peering out, and they began pointing excitedly as he came into view.
“Fuuuuuuck,” he said under his breath, and tried to land out of sight of the windows. He skulked around the edge of the building and entered through the front doors. None of their tenants had come down to loiter, thank god, but the front desk attendant they had hired smiled enthusiastically at him.
“Amazing, sir,” the young man said.
Chuuya gave him a sickly smile. “Thanks,” he said, making a beeline for the elevators.
“Please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you,” the young man called after him.
“Okay,” Chuuya said, his voice high-pitched with discomfort. He stabbed the elevator button several more times, and thankfully the elevator arrived before the attendant thought of anything else to say.
As the elevator doors closed, Chuuya pressed the button for the eleventh floor and checked his messages. He took a deep breath upon seeing texts from Kunikida, Yosano, and Atsushi, and opened them. As he read the message of approval from Kunikida, he wanted to sink into the floor. The starry-eyed congratulations from Atsushi just made him sigh. Yosano, of course, had provided a link to the video with the highest view count on social media - It hasn’t even been a fucking hour, he howled in his head - and a teasing remark about his superhero status.
He stepped out of the elevator and stood in the airlock for a minute, his fingers stabbing away at his phone. To Kunikida and Atsushi, he sent a simple message:
Please stop. 🙏
To Yosano, he was more direct.
WTAF? I sent you pics of my furry angels! Not this! Tell me how fucking beautiful they are!!! 🤬
Pocketing his phone, he inhaled deeply and used his keycard to unlock the door of the office suite, hoping Dazai wasn’t going to tease him, too. He peeked through the door and verified the waiting room was empty. Closing the door behind him, he headed for the door into their personal office. He eyed the espresso machine longingly, but decided peace of mind was more urgent.
He opened the door carefully, partly in case anyone was sleeping against it or decided to make a break for it, and partly to give himself time to check Dazai’s expression.
Chuuya’s shoulders slumped in relief as his husband looked at him sympathetically from the sofa, his phone in one hand.
“Good job, sweetheart,” he said. “Yosano says you’re stressed and to be nice to you.”
Chuuya snorted involuntarily. “She should take her own fucking advice,” he said wryly. His phone dinged and he checked it warily.
They are both gorgeous, and I can’t wait to meet them.
“Okay, does she have our office bugged?” he asked aloud, and then his eye was drawn to the floor next to his desk. He moved forward, brows drawn together, and picked up two pens from the floor and set them on top of the desk. “Is the desk not level? Did they roll off?”
“Ah, no,” Dazai said, putting down his phone and reaching out to stroke Storm.
“Oh, hey, she sat with you!” Chuuya said, realizing. “Go, you.” He smiled warmly and encouragingly at his husband.
“Yes, after I warmed up the seat for her,” Dazai said wryly. “And the pens didn’t roll off on their own, Cloud was playing on your desk. I’ve ordered some coffee mugs that are intended for cars. They’ve got a really heavy wide base so they won’t tip over. Presumably that will also protect them somewhat from chaos kitties.”
“Oh, shit, did she break my coffee cup?” Chuuya asked, startled.
“No, she didn’t go for it, I just put it away,” Dazai said. “I was just being proactive.”
Chuuya went over to where Cloud had taken Storm’s place on the windowsill and buried his face in her fur. “You’re a little troublemaker, aren’t you?” he said indulgently. “Aren’t you the bestest little troublemaker, yes you are.”
Dazai offered Storm a treat, and she took it. “I have to say,” he said, “I never liked working regular hours, but this, being wealthy enough that we don’t actually have to work, so we can just take the jobs we think are interesting and goof off the rest of the day, I’m enjoying this.” He laughed. “I need a new title,” he said. “Dilettante Detective, maybe?”
Chuuya straightened as Cloud hopped down and twined herself in a figure eight around his ankles. “Dilettante Detectives, plural,” he suggested. “Odd jobs our specialty.” His phone rang, and he checked the caller ID.
“Fuck, it’s a reporter,” he said, his face screwing up in annoyance.
Dazai stretched out his hand. “Give it to me,” he said, and Chuuya did so with alacrity.
Dazai swiped to answer the phone. “Yokohama Celebrity Impersonations,” he said in a cheerful customer service voice. “How may I help you today?”
Chuuya clapped his hand over his mouth to keep the reporter from hearing his snort.
“Um, I was looking for Nakahara Chuuya?” The reporter’s voice sounded confused.
“Oh, that’s been a very popular one lately,” Dazai said in a confiding voice. “When were you wanting the Nakahara impersonator for? We’ve only got one so far, and he’s booked pretty solid.”
“No, I’m not looking for an impersonator,” the reporter said. “I’m with the Yokohama Daily News, and I’m trying to reach the actual Nakahara Chuuya about an interview.”
“Oh, dear,” Dazai said, his voice convincingly sympathetic, “I’m afraid you’ve been given the wrong number. We’ve had a couple of other calls recently where people were given our number by mistake. Three for Nakahara, and one for the prime minister.”
Chuuya gnawed on his fist to keep quiet as Dazai wound up the call, leaving the reporter frustrated and vowing to have words with his informant.
“Best of luck,” Dazai said. “And if you ever need a celebrity impersonator, please remember us.” He hung up and handed the phone back to Chuuya, who dropped it on his desk and reached up to pull Dazai down by his shirt front.
After a very vigorous and enthusiastic kiss, Chuuya relaxed his grip slightly but didn’t release it. “You are absolutely the fucking best,” he said, eyes burning. He kissed Dazai again, and then released him. “Let me know what you want for dinner tonight,” he said. “I’ll make you anything you want.”
Dazai gave him a devilish smile. “Dinner? I was hoping for dessert,” he said in a sultry voice.
“Anything you want,” Chuuya said sincerely. “Especially if you handle the rest of my reporters the same way.” He grinned suddenly. “And hey, the best part of that was that it was the best fucking prank ever and Yosano didn’t get to see it. So that’s her punishment for teasing me.”
Dazai laughed. “Vindictive, much?” he asked. His expression sobered a little bit. “I’m very glad that the court of public opinion is squarely on your side, but we do need to acknowledge that your newfound celebrity is going to make it difficult for you to go undercover in the future.”
Chuuya grew serious as well. “Yeah, I’m getting recognized a lot. But I’ve been thinking about it, and I still haven’t seen anyone make the connection between me and Kousei. Not that I’ve searched specifically for that, ‘cause I don’t want to draw the connection myself. But that does make it seem like it’s the hair and eyes that are really sticking in people’s memory. So we might think about a wig so we can change the length too, and if not, at least when I’m undercover we can switch me to straight black hair, maybe a ponytail but low, not like Kousei wore, and brown contacts.” He added wryly, “We can even try the old standards, and get me a pair of glasses without a prescription.”
“And boring clothes,” Dazai agreed. “Sounds good.”
Chuuya patted Dazai’s ass. “Okay, gorgeous, time to get back to work.” He walked back around and took his seat at his desk as Dazai sighed theatrically and did the same. Opening his laptop, he signed in and began entering the morning’s emergency callout into the accounting program.
About forty-five minutes later, Dazai’s phone rang. He checked the caller ID and his eyes sharpened in interest. Chuuya’s fingers stilled on his keyboard, and he watched alertly as Dazai answered the phone on speaker.
“Gin,” Dazai lilted. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Gin spoke daintily over the speaker. “The Port Mafia would like to engage your services, Dazai.”
“Oh, really?” he asked, his smile fading. “Do tell.”
“Rai in accounting disappeared the night before last,” she said in her sweet voice. “With some ledgers that should not see the light of day, and with most of the contents of one of the working accounts. Our intelligence team’s efforts to locate him have been unsuccessful, and we are out of time. Any longer and it will look like it’s safe to steal from us.”
“I see,” said Dazai. “And you would like us to locate him and retrieve the Port Mafia’s possessions? And are you expecting us to, ahem, clean up?”
“No,” she said. “We merely wish you to find him as quickly as possible and provide me his location. I will handle the ‘negotiations’ with him personally.”
Chuuya nodded at Dazai, who rose and headed to the computer/surveillance room, questioning Gin as he went.
Four and a half hours later, Dazai emerged from the surveillance room and opened the door to the office carefully, and upon finding no paws or tails near the door, he entered briskly and closed the door behind him. He glanced over at the two dishes on either side of the cats’ water fountain, and asked, “Did they get their lunch already?”
Chuuya swiveled his chair around as Dazai entered, revealing he had a lapful of Storm. “Yes, unlike you,” he said pointedly. “You starving?”
“No, but I’ll definitely be eating dinner tonight,” Dazai admitted. “Gin’s all set. She’s gone to pay our absconding accountant a visit.”
“That was fast,” Chuuya said. “Not that I’m surprised, of course.”
Dazai crouched down and said to Storm mock-sternly, “That’s my lap, you know. You’re going to have to share.” Storm raised her head and looked at him, unimpressed.
“Dipshit,” Chuuya snorted. He checked his watch and carefully swiveled his chair back, making sure not to bump Storm’s head. “So, am I just billing them for four and half hours, or were there any expenses I need to log?” he asked, launching the accounting program to write up an invoice for the Port Mafia.
Tsujimura stood in front of Taneda’s desk, her hands folded. Attempting to hide her surprise, she clarified, “You want me to act as the liaison to Soukoku?”
“That is correct,” Taneda said with a small smile.
“I was under the impression that Sakaguchi-san was in charge of that sort of operation,” she probed delicately.
“He was,” Taneda said. “However, his personal history with them has caused some… friction, and it has been my observation that they have allowed their antipathy to affect their performance. Not that they would compromise a mission in any way,” he assured her, “but they will fulfill their obligations in such a way as to inconvenience or irritate Ango.
“To ensure we get the most out of our independent contractors, we need them to want to do their best for us. I need our liaison to be able to control their emotions, and be diplomatic, and treat Dazai and Nakahara with respect, even when they offer provocations. Ango expects them to behave like obedient subordinates rather than elite specialists, which, given their unfortunate histories with government representatives, rankles.” He looked up at her, smiling placidly. “I think I can trust you to remember that these are valuable resources who have understandable reasons to distrust the government and who have a choice in whether or not they take a given mission. You should treat them with at least the semblance of respect and patience, even if - especially if - they try to test your patience.”
That’s all fine and well, Tsujimura thought in exasperation, but Sakaguchi is my direct superior. Are you tanking my promotion prospects?
Aloud, she said the only thing that she could. “Understood, sir.”
“Excellent,” he said genially. “Oh, one other thing. They specifically directed us - and only us - to schedule appointments. So please make a good impression by doing so, rather than simply showing up at their office or trying to engage them directly via phone or email.”
“Understood, sir,” Tsujimura repeated. She bowed her head, and then turned and left his office.
By a quarter to five, Chuuya had issued the invoices for the day’s completed jobs, Dazai had ordered the AV equipment for the conference room, they had accepted a bodyguarding gig for Chuuya for Friday night, and Chuuya had posted half a dozen more pictures of Cloud and Storm to social media. They were in the middle of discussing dinner options when Dazai’s phone rang.
He checked the caller ID and raised an eyebrow. “Tsujimura Mizuki,” he murmured. He answered the phone, setting it to speaker. “Dazai,” he said neutrally.
A woman’s voice, soft and professional, said, “Hello, Dazai-san. My name is Tsujimura Mizuki. I work for the Special Operations Division, and would like to schedule an appointment to discuss a job we would like to contract Soukoku for.”
Dazai’s and Chuuya’s eyes met with mutual expressions of unwillingly impressed surprise.
Dazai spoke in a light, pleasant tone. Chuuya wondered if Tsujimura took that tone at face value, or recognized it as the trap that it was. “And are you scheduling this appointment for us to meet with your superior, Sakaguchi Ango, or-?” he trailed off invitingly.
“No, sir,” she said. “Chief Taneda has asked me to coordinate with you personally regarding the mission in question. Sakaguchi will not be involved.”
Dazai crooned, “And is this because you have some specialized knowledge, insight, or skills related to the mission that Ango doesn’t?”
“No, sir,” she said, her voice still perfectly polite and professional. “I believe this is somewhat of a test for me. If I am able to work well with you, then I will be your new liaison going forward rather than Sakaguchi-san.”
Dazai threw a wicked, delighted look at Chuuya, who smiled back with grim approval.
Nevertheless, Dazai tested Tsujimura. “It’s nearly five o’clock. We were about to close for the evening. Do you need to meet with us tonight, or will tomorrow do?” he asked in a silky voice.
Chuuya’s jaw tightened, remembering the O’Malley incident and Doc Glasses trying to insist they should use Corruption right away rather than taking a day to recover from their first battle.
Tsujimura passed the test. “Tomorrow will be fine, thank you. This is a high priority for us, but it’s not an emergency. It’s time-sensitive, but I would measure that in days rather than hours.”
The honeyed danger left Dazai’s voice as he exchanged glances with Chuuya once more. “That is a very refreshing attitude,” he said as Chuuya opened his phone and pulled up the calendar for the next day. “Your superior had a tendency to insist that everything be treated as an emergency, whether it was or not.” He glanced at their schedule as Chuuya held the phone up for him to view, and nodded silently.
Tsujimura said calmly, “I can understand the desire to complete one’s responsibilities as promptly as possible. Nevertheless, if I am working with people who aren’t in my chain of command, I need to keep in mind that my responsibilities and priorities aren’t the same as theirs. I am effectively asking for a favor. I’d rather keep my requests reasonable and build up good will, so that when the day comes that I do have a drop-everything emergency, they will be inclined to look favorably on me.” For the first time, a little personality crept into the businesslike tone of voice. “You know, really, it’s kind of like the boy who cried wolf,” she said with a little whimsy. “If you treat everything as an emergency, when you get a real one, people will already be burned out and aren’t going to believe you.”
Dazai smiled. “We will be happy to meet with you at our offices tomorrow morning at nine o’clock,” he said, and Chuuya added it to the calendar. “Do you have our address?”
“Yes, I do,” she replied. “Thank you very much, I look forward to meeting with you tomorrow.”
“We look forward to it with the utmost interest,” Dazai replied, eyes glinting, and he ended the call.
Rising from his own desk, he prowled over to Chuuya’s and hitched a hip up onto the corner of it. He folded his hands in his lap.
“What did you think?” he asked.
“I think she’s a fuckton politer than Doc Glasses,” Chuuya replied emphatically. “It’s good that Taneda’s trying to raise his credit with us. I fucking love what she said about being nice to people so they’ll be nice when you need them, there’s so many fucking assholes that think being demanding will get people to fall in line, it’s refreshing to meet someone who gets that it’s better to make people want to work with you. I hate the kind of team leader that decides everything’s an emergency and micromanages everything just ‘cause they’re on a power trip.”
“Yes,” Dazai agreed. “Give me more people who understand enlightened self-interest.”
“Yeah,” Chuuya said. “She’s definitely smart, but it didn’t feel like she was trying to manipulate us, more like she was trying to be delicate about making her pitch. Take this case, do a good job without making trouble, and in return all our future government cases arrive politely, with respect, and accurate information about timelines and priority, and as a bonus Doc Glasses gets humiliated.”
Dazai’s smile at the last point was not nice. “Well, it was an appealing pitch to me,” he said. “Which is why I rewarded her with a nine a.m. meeting.” His expression grew theatrically tragic. “Nine a.m.!” he lamented.
“You’ll survive,” Chuuya laughed. He logged off and locked his work laptop, and then placed it inside a drawer. “So, did you ever decide what you want me to make for dinner?” he asked as he stood up.
“Kanimeshi?” Dazai asked wistfully. “If we have any crab, that is?”
“Easy,” Chuuya said, and then said, “Awwww!”
Dazai turned to see that Storm and Cloud had cuddled themselves up against one another, faces pressed together.
Chuuya and Dazai watched the pair snuggle for a minute, and then sneaked their phones out quietly to take pictures, as if the sound of them reaching into their pockets would disturb the cats when their phone call and conversation hadn’t.
Once the pictures were taken, and Chuuya had uploaded his favorite to the cats’ social media account (named 1FurryStormCloud), Chuuya tucked his phone back in his pocket and said reluctantly, “I guess I should go up and start dinner, and you can stay here with them? I mean, we don’t want to wake them up, do we?”
Storm raised her head and started vigorously washing Cloud’s face.
“Awww!”