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Atsushi didn’t think the day was off to an ominous start when Dazai stumbled into the Agency building an hour and a half late for work looking like he was on the verge of death. No, what was ominous was that Dazai stumbled into the Agency building an hour and a half late to work looking like he was on the verge of death and he didn’t seem delighted by it. 

“Dazai,” Kunikida glowered. Atsushi winced, bracing himself for the outburst. “Get up, you oaf. You’re several days behind on your reports.”

As soon as Dazai had entered the office, he’d made a beeline for his desk and collapsed at his chair like a puppet whose strings had been cut. “Atsushi-kun will do them,” Dazai said, burying his head in his arms. 

No, he will not, thought Atsushi. He’d gotten so good at sneaking Dazai’s blank paperwork back onto his desk that he wondered if this was his mentor’s way of training Atsushi for some horrific future battle that could only be decided by whoever was best at smuggling paper. 

“You cannot keep foisting work that you don’t want to do onto your subordinates! And get up already, the papers are going to get stained with your sweat if you keep pressing your face into them!”

“So loud,” Dazai mumbled. He turned his head so one eye was peeking out from the crook of bandaged arm. “Atsushi-kun, do something.”

Atsushi opened his mouth, about to patiently remind his mentor that the unfortunate side effect of having a job was that you did, in fact, have to do work, but stopped. 

Kunikida was right. Dazai was sweating on his paperwork. Quite heavily at that. The office was a comfortable, t-shirt temperature and yet Atsushi could see beads of moisture on his forehead. His cheeks were bright red, too. Once Dazai saw that Atsushi would not be coming to his rescue, he grumbled and tucked his face back into his arms again. 

Atsushi sniffed the air. Come to think of it, Dazai smelled a little weird. That wouldn’t have been a problem since Dazai’s usual smell– a mix of antiseptic, cheap cologne, and cigarette smoke– was already weird, but today his scent was a new weird. It was stuffy, a bit sour, and made the tiger in his mind grunt in displeasure. Atsushi frowned. 

“... chronic deficit in work ethic!” Kunikida continued to rant. The rest of the office was tuned out, all except Yosano, who was staring at Dazai with her brows furrowed. 

Well, if Atsushi wasn’t sure before that something was wrong, he was now. He rose from his chair.  

“One moment, Kunikida-san,” Atsushi interrupted. Kunikida, likely out of surprise more than anything, went quiet. A shift went through the office as everyone else perked up, too. Atsushi ignored them and walked over to his mentor’s desk.

“S’too loud,” Dazai mumbled again. Atsushi pressed his palm against his sweaty forehead. 

Hot! He winced and pulled his hand back, but Dazai's fingers wrapped around his arm. His grip was alarmingly limp. 

“Dazai-san, are you feeling alright?”

“Do it again,” he murmured. “Felt nice.”

Confused, he pressed his hand back against his forehead. Dazai relaxed under his touch. By now, the entire office was watching the exchange, all except Ranpo, who, for some reason, rolled his eyes. 

Yosano was at Dazai’s side within moments. She motioned for Atsushi to remove his hand so she could feel his temperature instead, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a tug in his chest at the sad noise his mentor made when he pulled away. 

“You’re burning up,” she noted. Dazai tried to duck under his arms again, but she grabbed his chin. “Hey. Don’t hide again. Look at me.” 

Dazai grumbled something undecipherable but did as she said. Still holding his chin, she moved his head from side to side, her frown deepening as she studied him. As soon as she let go, he dropped his head back on his desk. 

Yosano pulled out a mask from her back pocket and slipped it over her face. 

“Atsushi. Help him to my clinic.”

Atsushi’s heart dropped. “Is he okay?”

“Obviously not, but I need to examine him further to understand what’s going on.”

He nodded, pushing down the worry that was filling his chest. “ Of course. Dazai-san, I’m going to help you up. Can you stand?”

Dazai turned his head back up to Atsushi. His eyes were dull with fever, and exhaustion was written all over his features. “Don’t want to.”

Another pang went through his chest. Atsushi had never seen him look so pitiful before. “I know, but it’s a short walk to the office. I’ll help you the whole way there.”

Dazai made another grumbling sound and buried his head in his arms again. 

Atsushi bit his lip. Dazai had once told him that sometimes, all that a stubborn, uncooperative witness needed was a bit of tenderness from an authority figure and they’d crack wide open. That approach had gotten Atsushi success before, so maybe it would work here? A little ridiculous, but worth a shot.

He smoothed his hand down the damp hair at the back of his mentor’s head, the way he’d seen Demon Snow do to Kyouka while she slept. He flushed a little bit at the tenderness of the gesture, but forced himself to continue. It was for Dazai’s sake, after all. “Dazai-san, I know you feel terrible right now, but Yosano-sensei needs to examine you at her clinic,” he said softly, kneeling so that they were eye-level. “Will you please let me help you get there?”

Dazai whined. His brown eyes were half-lidded, his pupils dilated. He looked for all the world like a wounded deer. Somehow, his face was even more flushed. If the tiger were here, she’d be snarling in concern.

“Okay,” Dazai mumbled. “Since Atsushi-kun asked so nicely, I’ll do it for him.”

Atsushi beamed, and Dazai gave him a tired smile in return. “Thank you, Dazai-san! Here, put your arm around my shoulders.”

“Aw, you’re not gonna carry me?” Dazai batted his eyes up at Atsushi. 

He paused, ignoring the way his heart skipped a beat. “Do you want me to?” Regular meals and rigorous training with Kunikida meant that even with the tiger gone, picking up Dazai would be no trouble at all. He wrapped his arm around Dazai’s waist and gave a tiny test pull. Yep, not a problem. 

Dazai cleared his throat and suddenly looked away. “Er, maybe another time.” 

Ranpo snorted from the other side of the hallway, and before he could stop himself, Atsushi shot him a glare. He stuck his lollipop back into his mouth and rolled his eyes again. 

“Alright, Dazai-san,” Atsushi said, squeezing the other’s waist. “Up we go.”

Pressed together like this, it was even more apparent how too-warm Dazai was. All of him radiated heat, like his entire body was a festering, open wound. If the tiger were here, she would be snarling and pacing around in displeasure. 

“Ugh,” Dazai whimpered, stumbling in time with Atsushi’s steps. Atsushi squeezed his waist in assurance. 

“I’m amazed you even made it to work in this condition,” he said.

A guilty-looking Kunikida opened the office door for them. “Take the rest of the day off, Dazai,” he said in a much more mellow tone than earlier. “I apologize for not paying closer attention to your health. I will be more mindful in the future.” 

“Kunikida-kun… is apologizing to me? Is anyone recording this?” Dazai mumbled with a tired laugh. 

“Feel better, Dazai-san!” Kenji chimed in from the other end of the room. 

“I’ll cover as much of your paperwork as I can,” called Tanizaki. “You just take it easy!”

Kyoka gave a small wave to Atsushi, and he promised himself that he would text her later. 

“Good luck,” said Ranpo, which was a bit of a strange thing to say, but if Dazai were in serious danger, Ranpo wouldn’t be so blithe about it, so Atsushi took it as a good sign. 

“Mmm.” Dazai didn’t say any more than that, but Atsushi caught a faint smile in his reflection in the window on the door. 

Without wasting any more time, Yosano ushered them out and into her office. 

“Atsushi, you can return,” she said once she got Dazai settled on the exam table. She pulled on a pair of blue nitrile gloves. “I’ve got it from here.”

“Nooo, Atsushi-kun, don’t leave me alone with this scary doctor,” Dazai pleaded. His long body was folded at a sort of awkward angle so that he could lean against the wall. Yosano shushed him, but a smirk played on her lips. 

“You can’t be that sick if you can crack jokes, funny man. Go on, Atsushi. Thanks for the help.”

With one final look at Dazai, who made grabby hands at him, Atsushi waved and closed the door. 

The tiger wasn’t happy with that. 

It’ll be fine. He couldn’t be in better hands. I’ll just get in Yosano-sensei’s way if I stay there.

She growled at him, still disappointed. He couldn’t blame her. 

Atsushi probably did a terrible job with all of the reports he did within the following half hour. He wasn’t paying attention enough to tell. All he could think about was Dazai’s bleary eyes, flushed face, and miserable expression. 

Exactly thirty-three minutes after Atsushi had delivered Dazai to Yosano’s clinic, the doctor returned into the room. 

“Just the flu,” Yosano announced to the room. “A nasty one, but he’ll be fine.” She snorted. “I guess all those dunks in the river finally caught up to him.”

Nothing serious, then. Something relaxed just a tiny bit in Atsushi’s chest. He felt a collective sigh of relief around the office, too. 

“I’ll be taking the rest of the day off,” she continued. “I hardly trust him to take care of himself on a normal day, let alone when he’s feverish out of his mind.”

“What about your pharmacology test? And your patient charts?” Naomi asked, concerned.  

Yosano’s expression grew weary. “I haven’t forgotten. I’ll just take the work with me and get as much as I can done when I’m not caring for him.”

Yosano, with the President’s permission, had reduced some of her working hours at the agency to take a few classes at a local university. The courses were rigorous, and everyone had noticed the bags under her eyes getting larger over the past few weeks as she studied for her pharmacology final. Atsushi couldn’t imagine how she would balance studying and filling out her patient charts and caring for Dazai all at the same time. 

A solution struck him across the head like a baseball bat. 

He shot up out of his chair. “Let me take care of Dazai-san!”

All eyes turned to him. Atsushi cringed on the inside, but pressed on. “I can’t get sick because of the tiger, and I’m caught up on all of my work. Yosano-sensei, if you write down instructions for me, I’ll take him back to the dorms and look after him so you don’t have to.”

Yosano put her fingers to her mouth in thought. “That could actually work. There’s just one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Dazai will be ten times more annoying than usual to you. He wouldn’t try any of that with me because he knows I won’t tolerate it, but he’ll be a handful if it’s you, Atsushi.”

Atsushi blinked, then laughed. “Dazai-san’s always a handful. I’ll be completely fine.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You’d think that at this point in his life, Atushi would be wiser than to tempt fate with a bold claim like that. 

Dazai had been weirdly enthusiastic about Atsushi being the one to take him home instead of Yosano. He’d made a happy noise upon seeing him return to the clinic and beamed when Yosano informed him of the change in plans. 

However, that cheery mood faded quickly. Calling a cab to drive them for a distance that was a ten-minute walk was embarrassing enough. On top of that, Dazai was miserable the entire ride back to the dorms, sniffling and pressing his face into Atsushi’s shoulder the whole time, which was far more distracting than it should have been. He wouldn’t stop whining the entire ride there, and on the stairs to his room, and once he had changed out of his work clothes and was tucked under his covers in bed.

“Atsushi-kun,” he groaned. “My head hurts.”

Atsushi held up the bottle of liquid acetaminophen that Yosano had given him and squinted at his phone to read the instructions she texted him. “This should help.”

Dazai narrowed his eyes at the medicine, then turned his head away, pulling the covers up to his chin. “I don’t want that. It tastes yucky.”

For a long moment, Atsushi just stood there and stared at his mentor. 

Twenty-two-year-old man. Former mafia executive with a list of crimes longer than a phonebook. Half of the fearsome, renowned Double Black team. 

Turning up his nose at medicine because it tasted “yucky.” 

“Is Atsushi-kun admiring my sickly form?” 

Atsushi heaved a sigh and carefully carried the plastic cap of pink liquid to the bed. He reminded himself that trying to make any sense of how Dazai’s brain worked was about as productive as throwing a bag of rice off of a cliff one grain at a time. “Dazai-san, you have to drink this if you want to feel better.”

“I don’t want to get better if it means I have to drink that nasty stuff. I’d rather be sick forever!”

Atsushi sized up his mentor and was debating force-feeding him the medicine when a thought occurred to him. 

Earlier, he’d gotten Dazai to get up and walk to Yosano’s office by being nice to him when nothing else had worked.

Could it be… Dazai wanted to be fussed over?

“Atsushi,” the man in question whined, drawing out the last vowel, “Don’t make me drink that stuff, it’s too–”

Dazai’s words caught as Atsushi ran his fingers through his sweat-soaked brown hair, copying his motion from that morning. His hair was coarser than it looked. He probably wasn’t using enough conditioner. 

“Dazai-san. Please drink this medicine. I know it doesn’t taste good, but it will help you recover sooner, and I really want you to be healthy again. Can you do that for me?”

Dazai blinked. He looked away, squirmed around under the covers, and finally groaned. 

“Okay, fine. On one condition.”

“… Yes?”

“Atsushi has to do me a favor.”

Aren’t I already doing you a favor? he thought wryly, but nodded. “That’s all? Sure.”

Dazai gave a dry laugh. “So easily? You don’t have any reservations about what it means to owe someone like me a favor?”

Atsushi tilted his head in confusion. “Why would I? I trust you.”

He turned and grabbed the cap of pink liquid. “Now, will you please drink this?”

When he turned back, Dazai was staring at him, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly parted. It might have been a trick of the mind, but Atsushi could swear he was somehow even redder than before.

“Dazai-san? Are you feeling worse?”

Dazai gave him a smile that seemed… sad? Resigned? Desperate? Atsushi couldn’t tell.

“Atsushi-kun… you really are too good.”

“Too good for what?”

Instead of answering, Dazai held out his trembling hand for the cap. “Gimme.”

Atsushi wasn’t going to question further. Dazai downed the medicine like a shot and made a face after he’d swallowed.

“Awful!” he hissed.

“Here.” Atsushi passed him a glass of water. Upon reflection, he realized he’d never actually seen Dazai drink water before. He shuddered at the thought and resolved to keep his desk stocked with water bottles from now on. 

“This will make you drowsy, so you should fall asleep soon.”

Dazai looked so cozy and tired, with his half-closed eyes and red cheeks, that Atsushi felt another pang in his chest, this time something fond. Dazai, as though sensing Atsushi’s easily manipulatable state, reached out and gently tugged at his wrist.

“Atsushi-kun… has to stay,” he mumbled. “T’make sure I don’t drink the entire bottle.”

He took the hint and ran his fingers through Dazai’s hair, over and over, gently tracing new paths on his scalp with his nails each time. “Yeah. I’ll stay.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

As soon as he was sure Dazai was asleep (he was extremely good at faking, but Atsushi figured between the medicine and the illness, he had to be out for real this time), he put on his shoes and slipped out the door as quietly as he could. 

It’s not that he wanted to lie to Dazai. Yosano had sent him a list of supplies to pick up at the grocery store around the corner and if he tried to leave while Dazai was awake, that man would raise hell, and by raise hell, he meant whine and plead until Atsushi folded like wet paper.

Shaking his head, Atsushi revisited the list of items. Tissues, vitamin C powder, electrolytes, simple foods like applesauce. He also grabbed some simple ingredients. He hadn’t gone through Dazai’s kitchen, but judging from the overpowering smell coming from the cupboards, he was sure he’d find nothing but alcohol. 

Atsushi couldn’t have been gone more than twenty minutes in total. He carefully opened the door and toed his shoes off. Dazai must still be asleep, right?

… Right?

Dazai’s smell was stronger, like he’d moved around, but Atsushi didn’t hear anything. He set the bags down on the kitchen counter and checked the bedroom. 

Empty. He had to be in the bathroom, then.

“Dazai-san?” Atsushi called. The door to the bathroom was slightly open, and he heard the sound of something dripping. His heart began to pound. “Dazai-san, I’m coming in.”

He pushed open the bathroom door and froze. 

Dazai was huddled on the floor of the shower, still fully dressed, completely soaked. He was trembling, his lips were blue, and there was water all over the bathroom floor. 

“Dazai-san!” Atsushi cried as he rushed over. “What happened? Why are you all wet?”

Dazai’s skin was clammy and hot, but a brush through his hair revealed that he must have showered in cold water. His teeth were chattering too hard to respond. Atsushi cursed under his breath. 

I left Dazai-san alone for too long and he tried to kill himself! I’m a terrible caretaker!

The tiger roared in agreement, furious. Atsushi put his hand back on Dazai’s head to get her to quiet down.

What was he supposed to do now? Maybe rinse him off with warm water, so that it would cancel out the cold? Atsushi twisted the knob of the shower as far towards the little red line as it could go, but all that came out was cold water. 

Okay. Dazai didn’t have hot water. Fine. New plan. Atsushi ran to the bedroom and rummaged through Dazai’s dresser until he found a pair of sweatpants and a big gray sweater. Atsushi flushed as he then hunted for a pair of underwear (there really was no way to do so without feeling like a pervert). He grabbed the first pair of boxers he saw along with some socks and rushed back to the bathroom.

When he got there, Dazai had fully slumped onto the wall of the shower. He made a terrible whimpering sound when Atsushi reappeared. Guilt pierced through Atsushi.

“Dazai-san, I have a change of clothes and a towel for you.”

Dazai looked up at him through dripping bangs, shivering and glassy eyed. Atsushi put the clothes and towel on the dry part of the floor beside the shower.

Dazai didn’t move. He just made that noise again and tucked himself further against the wall, like he could crawl inside and warm himself up in the insulation.

More problem-solving. Atsushi could do that. He pushed the curtain aside completely and stepped into the shower, again, doing his best to shove down any feelings of embarrassment.

“I’m sorry I left, Dazai-san,” he murmured. He picked up the towel; he’d probably be more receptive to directions if Atsushi started with his wet hair. “Lean forward a little?”

Dazai eyed the towel with suspicion, but with a soft huff, he obeyed. Atsushi draped the towel over his head and gently rubbed it across his scalp. Dazai closed his eyes and hummed, leaning into the touch. Atsushi’s stomach did a strange flip, and he dried the ends of his hair a little quicker than he needed to, praying Dazai couldn’t feel the shaking of his hands. When he removed the towel, Dazai opened his eyes, looking for all the world like a disgruntled kitten. 

The idea of teasing his mentor for his catlike behavior crossed his mind briefly, but he pushed it aside. Dazai would do that for sure if the roles were reversed, but Atsushi couldn’t bring himself to. 

“C-cold,” Dazai mumbled, curling in on himself even more. Atsushi winced.

“I know, Dazai-san. I’ll finish drying your hair after you change.” 

Dazai eyed the bundle of clothes blankly. Atsushi’s confusion grew until he realized.

“Oh, sorry.” He turned and dug around in the bathroom drawer until he found what he was looking for, placing it next to the clothes.“There. Now, do you think you can change?”

Dazai blinked, his gaze moving between the box of bandages to Atsushi, then back again. He gave a tiny nod. 

“Okay. I’ll come check on you in a few minutes.” Atsushi pulled a hair dryer out from the same drawer and tucked it under his arm, then closed the bathroom door behind him. He unpacked the groceries while he was at it. 

Once the last of his supplies had been set out, he went back. To his relief, Dazai had managed to change his clothes successfully and was out of the shower, now curled on top of the bathmat and leaning against the sink. He was still shivering, but less so, and his lips weren’t blue anymore. 

His sweater was on backwards. Something about that made a wave of affection crash into him, so powerful it nearly knocked him over. Atsushi turned and cleared his throat.

“C’mon. Let’s get you to the living room.”

“Help me up?” He was more verbal, now, too. That was a relief (Atsushi thought of the many, many people who would disagree and suppressed a snort). Dazai stretched out a hand, and just that effort alone seemed to use up tremendous energy for him.

Atsushi shook his head. It would take forever to get him there that way. “I’ll just carry you, if that’s alright.”

Dazai blinked a few times, then smiled. “Of course.”

Don’t make this weird, he chanted to himself over and over as he scooped up Dazai, one arm under his knobby knees and the other under his back. Dazai looped his arms around Atsushi’s neck and pressed his face under his chin. Don’t make this weird, don’t make this weird, don’t think about how he can probably hear your heartbeat going crazy, DON’T MAKE THIS WEIRD–

“Atsushi-kun?” Dazai murmured, his breath warm against his throat. 

Atsushi dropped him onto the couch a bit more carelessly than he intended. Dazai yelped as he tumbled onto the cushions. 

“Sorry, sorry, Dazai-san!” he cried, his cheeks burning. Dazai made a face. 

“Ow. So rough,” he whined. He curled into the cushions, away from Atsushi. 

Atsushi squinted. It couldn’t have hurt that badly. He was about to call Dazai out on his dramatics, then his breath caught. 

Had anyone ever treated Dazai like this before? Was there anyone who had really, truly fussed this much over Dazai out of genuine concern for his wellbeing? Maybe Yosano had come close, but she would be efficient and clinical about it and would never indulge this side of him. Atsushi couldn’t think of a single living soul in the mafia who would do this kind of thing, either, except–

Atsushi mind replayed a memory of his mentor leaning against a gravestone, a rueful smile on his weary face. Maybe there was one person who had treated him this way, but that man had been gone for years, Atsushi thought with a pang.

Perhaps Dazai needed this sort of care the same way he needed the medicine. And, if Atsushi was honest with himself, he didn’t mind fussing over his mentor. This was kind of nice for Atsushi, actually. He’d never had anyone to take care of like this before; the Headmaster didn’t allow him to talk to any of the other children at the orphanage. 

Maybe indulging Dazai like this wasn’t the worst thing in the world. 

The tiger purred in assent. 

Atsushi bit his lip and swallowed back his words. He moved to the front of the couch and sat down so his head was eye-level on the cushion next to Dazai’s. “I’m sorry. I should have been more careful, and I’m sorry again for breaking my promise. I just wanted to get supplies for you. I thought you’d still be asleep when I got back,” he said instead. “I won’t do it again.”

 Dazai huffed, but he didn’t look away.

“Please forgive me, Dazai-san?” Atsushi whispered. 

That seemed to do the trick. Dazai unpeeled himself from the cushions and turned back towards Atsushi. His expression softened.

“You’re lucky I can’t stay mad at you.”

Atsushi chuckled before plugging in the hair dryer. “You wouldn’t have to be mad in the first place if you’d stayed in bed.”

“It was so hot! I just wanted to cool off.”

“So you decided taking a cold shower while you were sick with all your clothes on was the best solution?”

At that, Dazai turned his gaze up to Atsushi. “Is Atsushi upset that I wasn't naked?”

On any other day, Atsushi would probably have given Dazai exactly the flustered, stammering reaction he wanted. After all, he was objectively quite handsome, in Atsushi’s professional opinion. However, Dazai’s red nose, nasally voice, sopping wet hair, and barely-open eyes didn’t exactly make for a heart-stopping image. Atsushi felt like he was being seduced by a sopping wet kitten in a cardboard box on the street. 

Atsushi turned away, but Dazai had already caught him. His smirk dissolved into a pout.

“Atsushi’s laughing at me,” he whined. “So mean. Cruel tiger.”

Atsushi didn’t bother hiding it this time. He grinned. “Yeah, I am. Big, evil were-tiger. That’s me. Now, stay still.”

If any part of Dazai had still been upset with Atsushi, it vanished once hot air was blowing on his scalp and Atsushi started moving his hair around to get it completely dry. He all but melted into the couch. Once his hair was sufficiently dried, Atsushi grabbed a brush and began the detangling process.

“Ouch,” Dazai whined when Atsushi caught a snag. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he soothed. “Y’know, Naomi told me to buy the same kind of conditioner she uses and my hair doesn’t get tangled or frizzy anymore.”

“Hmm. We’ll have to go shopping for some if I get better.”

“When. When you get better. You aren’t dying because of the flu, of all things.”

Once his hair was done, Atsushi ushered Dazai back into his bed as carefully as possible. 

Dazai shivered once Atsushi set him down. “M’ still cold.”

“I’ll make you some tea.”

“I don’t want tea.”

“Then what do you want, Dazai-san?”

“Atsushi-kun,” he whined. 

“What? I’m right here.”

“That’s what I want.” Dazai pulled back one corner of the blanket. “Atsushi-kun should join me right here so I get warm faster.”

Atsushi froze. “Er… what?”

“That’s the favor I want. There’s plenty of space, and Atsushi-kun is warm. Unless… you don’t want to?” At this moment, Dazai managed to make his eyes indescribably large and gut-wrenchingly sad. 

How does he do that? Atsushi privately wondered as he ran his fingers through his own hair and blew out a sigh. He seriously needed to get better at saying no to Dazai. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is!” Dazai scooted to the left side of the bed. “You’re perfect for the job.”

“Wait. I still need to go back to my dorm to change. I’m not getting in b— getting in there in my work clothes.” Atsushi managed to choke out. His face was hot and he didn’t know what to do with his hands, so they kept flying from his hips to his pockets to his tie. 

“Just wear mine.”

He was going to explode at this rate. “Is that really okay?” he squeaked.

“Atsushi-kun can have anything he wants from me.”

He turned away, but again, he knew he was too late to hide his flush by Dazai’s chuckle behind him. He busied himself with going through Dazai’s drawers. 

It’s the sickness, he told himself. He’s delirious. None of this means anything. 

The tiger chuffed in approval when Atsushi’s hands ran over a large black hoodie and a pair of gray shorts, so he took both and ducked into the bathroom to change. He swallowed as he shucked off his clothes and tried to ignore the tiger’s pleased rumbles. 

Mate’s scent, she preened. 

Stop it! It’s just clothes! You’re making this weird! 

The tiger cared little for Atsushi’s exasperation, though. She curled up and resumed her purring, unbothered. 

Dazai was taller and skinnier than him, so the hoodie was too large and the shorts were too tight and Atsushi altogether felt that he looked quite ridiculous. 

When he reemerged, Dazai hummed in approval, his eyes roaming up and down Atsushi’s form.

“You look nice.”

He cleared his throat and tried to look anywhere but at Dazai. “Move over more, Dazai-san.”

He obliged and Atsushi wiggled his way under the covers, keeping a respectable space between himself and Dazai. 

Distantly, he was aware that some sort of line was crossed. He wasn’t entirely sure, but he had a feeling that mentors and mentees didn’t do… whatever this was.

Well, what did he know? He’d never had a mentor before. Maybe this kind of thing was actually totally normal.

“How are you feeling, Dazai-san?” Atsushi asked. His voice was barely above a whisper, even though there was no reason to be quiet. 

Dazai rolled over to look at Atsushi. His face was mostly pressed into the pillow, nothing but a single brown eye and a bit of nose poking out from under his hair. 

His hair had poofed up and become even frizzier now that it was completely dry. Atsushi wasn’t the greatest at blow-drying, so some chunks stuck up weirdly and others laid too flat against his scalp and his bangs were just a mess all-around. It was quite far removed from Dazai’s usual artfully (a word Naomi had once used to describe his hair privately to Atsushi that he had never forgotten) tousled look. He looked like a newly hatched chick. Before Dazai could respond to the question, Atsushi snickered. 

“Laughing at me again? Isn’t that a little low, Atsushi-kun?” he grumbled and promptly shoved his entire face into the pillow. Atsushi gently shook his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, Dazai-san, really, I am. Your hair just looks a little funny!” 

Nothing. Now, Atsushi began to panic.

“I’m sorry! Please stop suffocating yourself!”

When Dazai resurfaced his face was only a little bit blue, which Atsushi took as a win. “Silly Atsushi. You know I’d never choose suffocation as a way to go. In fact, I haven’t even seriously tried to kill myself in months!” He yawned. “Anyways, to answer your question, I’m still feeling bad.”

“Can I get you anything? Water, a snack?”

“No.” He sneezed. “If Atsushi-kun leaves, I’ll get cold, and then I’ll feel even worse.” 

“Okay, okay, I’ll stay. You should at least try to get some rest.”

“Mmm. Don’t leave this time.”

Atsushi felt another pang of guilt. “I won’t.”

Dazai’s weary gaze lingered on Atsushi for barely a moment longer. It looked like he was going to say something else, but instead he rolled over so he was facing the wall. 

“Goodnight, Atsushi-kun.”

Atsushi glanced at the drawn curtains, the sun high in the sky and streaming in muted hues through the thin fabric. “It’s– okay, yeah, goodnight.”

Dazai’s breathing eventually deepened and evened out and his eyes went still beneath his lids, leaving Atsushi to stare at the ceiling and think. 

He’d had a large cup of coffee at the office before he’d taken Dazai home, so there wasn’t any chance of him falling asleep now, and he hadn’t thought to bring anything to read. Dazai might have something laying around that Atsushi could flip through, though. The bedside drawer was on Atsushi’s side, and he carefully eased it open and peered inside. He might have felt a bit more apprehensive of digging through his mentor’s things if he hadn’t spent the entire day caring for him and going through his stuff already. 

In hindsight, Atsushi shouldn’t have been surprised at anything he found in the drawer: more bandages, scissors, a switchblade, a gun, and a bottle of pills. There was something else there that Atsushi didn’t recognize but looked vaguely familiar: a long blue plastic box-thing segmented into several sections like a millipede, but he couldn’t bear to look any longer and investigate. His stomach felt like it was trying to digest itself. Atsushi tried to take some deep breaths as he closed the drawer and turned back to Dazai. 

Dazai hadn’t moved, and if it weren’t for the slow rise and fall of his chest, he’d look dead.

The tiger snarled.

Atsushi didn’t know what to say to her. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and scrubbed harshly at his eyes with the sleeve of Dazai’s hoodie. 

I don’t know how to save him, he thought back. The tiger roared, and he winced. How could he communicate to her that whatever haunted Dazai was a monster that Atsushi didn’t know how to defeat?

For some reason, he couldn’t get that stupid blue segmented box out of his mind. Where had he seen it before? 

Then it clicked. Yosano’s office. She always kept a few on hand to distribute to her patients. Atsushi gently opened the drawer again to confirm. 

Sure enough, the blue container was divided into seven little compartments that Atsushi could now see were labeled with the days of the week. Every box from Monday to Thursday, which was today, was empty, and the last three boxes had one pill each. 

Upon closer inspection, the pills in the box matched the ones in the bottle, labeled fluoxetine. 

He recognized that, too. He’d seen Yosano take the same thing, and she’d explained that sometimes the brain didn’t send neurochemicals to the right places, and that certain medications could help channel those neurochemicals to where they were needed. Selective serotonin something-somethings. Commonly prescribed for depression. Atsushi took another look at the other contents of the drawer. 

The scissors had clearly been recently used, but there wasn’t any caked blood on the blades. The switchblade had a thin but visible layer of dust on it. The gun had the safety on, and just like the blade, it was a little dusty. 

Atsushi inhaled, almost dizzy from the sudden lightness in his chest. The tiger tilted her head. He gave a soft, wet laugh. 

No, this time it’s because I’m happy, Atsushi assured her, once again blotting his undereyes with Dazai’s hoodie. He’s working hard to fight what we can’t. 

He shuffled closer to his mentor and slid his hand back into his hair before the tiger could respond. Maybe it was his imagination, but he swore he saw Dazai let out a little sigh in his sleep when Atsushi began running his fingers through the strands. He squeezed his eyes shut, wrangling down the urge to do something inappropriate like wrap his arms around him and burrow into his bandaged chest. 

“Thank you for trying,” he whispered instead. “I’m glad you’re still here.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Atsushi didn’t remember drifting off, but he definitely remembered waking, because as soon as he blinked awake, the first thing he saw, inches from his face, was a huge pair of brown eyes. 

“Good morning!”

Atsushi yelped and jerked backwards, completely flying off of the bed. Dazai snickered into his fist and smirked down at Atsushi when he glared at him from the floor. 

“Clumsiest cat I’ve ever met,” Dazai teased. Atsushi stood up and dusted himself off with a huff. 

“I am not–”

“Right, right, not a cat, of course not, you’re a big scary tiger, how could I forget?” 

Atsushi rolled his eyes as he grabbed an electrolyte mix-in packet from the grocery bag on the floor and poured it into the glass of water on the bedside table. 

“And you’re a big pain in the neck,” Atsushi grumbled under his breath as he swirled the water to help the pink powder distribute better. 

“What did you sa–”

“Drink this.” Atsushi pushed the glass of water into Dazai’s hands. He frowned at the cup.

“I don’t want to.”

“Too bad.”

“I miss when you were nice to me,” Dazai whined, but he accepted the water with a pout. 

Atsushi shuffled into the kitchen to grab himself something to drink as well. He glanced at the time on his phone as he sipped his water and groaned. Eight in the evening. Dazai might manage just fine, but Atsushi’s sleep schedule was ruined for sure. 

When he returned, he was pleased to find Dazai’s glass empty and his pout gone from his face. He looked a bit better all around. Definitely much more lucid than when he’d gone and taken that stupid cold shower. 

“I have a question for Atsushi-kun.” Dazai patted the bedside next to him, and Atsushi obediently flopped down beside him.

“Go ahead.”

“I’ve been wondering for a while: does your tiger hate me?”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“I’d ask her myself, but it seemed a little awkward.”

“No, I mean, why would she hate you?”

Dazai gave him a flat look, and then Atsushi understood. “Oh, no. She doesn’t.”

“She’s not even bothered?”

“Not at all. She trusts that you know what you’re doing when you cancel her.”

“Huh.”

Atsushi shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me when you cancel her, either. It’s actually kinda nice to sometimes have a break from the tiger.”

“Oh? I didn’t know she actually talked to you.”

“It’s less ‘talking’ and more like… thinking? Like in images rather than words. But yeah, she communicates with me a lot.”

“What does she say?”

“She tells me to do…” Atsushi trailed off. “Weird stuff.”

“How interesting!” Dazai propped up his head on his elbow. “Tell me more.”

Atsushi cringed. “It’s just… she sometimes wants me to do tiger things that would be… inappropriate for a human.”

“Ah, I understand.” Dazai nodded sagely. “Like pee all over your desk at the office.”

Atsushi’s jaw dropped open. “How did you know?!”

Dazai smirked back. “Why, it was written all over your face.”

Atsushi gaped at him. Eventually, Dazai broke into laughter. “I actually read it in a zoology textbook. Tigers do it to mark their territory.”

“Oh.” Atsushi relaxed, immense relief washing over him that he wasn’t somehow outwardly projecting the tiger’s urination urges. A question then occurred to him.

“You read zoology textbooks for fun?”

“Not for fun. For research.” He paused. “Well, maybe a bit of fun. Say, Atsushi-kun, did you know that during mating season, male tigers will—“

Atsushi clapped his hands over his ears. “Dazai-san, stop!” he wailed. Dazai laughed again. He looked so nice when he smiled, and his eyes crinkled at the corners, and his grin went lopsided that Atsushi almost didn’t mind being the butt of yet another tiger joke. 

“Sorry, sorry. Atsushi-kun flusters so easily, sometimes it’s hard to resist teasing him!” Dazai raised his palms in surrender. “No more tiger jokes. I promise. I do have another question for you, though!”

Atsushi squinted. “What is it?”

Dazai leaned away from Atsushi until they weren’t touching at all. “What is she saying to you right now?”

Definitely something embarrassing, but Dazai looked so excited that Atsushi couldn't bring himself to deny him. 

It didn’t take long to find her. There, in the recesses of his mind, she appeared again. She slow-blinked at him, bright, yellow eyes half-lidded with contentment. 

Mate, she rumbled, just like earlier. Atsushi’s stomach gave a little flip.

Not a mate! Mentor! he hurriedly corrected. Co-worker! Friend!

 Mate, she repeated, closing her eyes and purring like a little motor. 

“Wow! You’re making quite the expression, Atsushi-kun!” Dazai grinned. “What did she say?”

Something about his tone made Atsushi flush even more. Maybe he knew. 

No, Atsushi realized as his blood turned to ice in his veins, he definitely knew. 

Atsushi wasn’t a good liar, and this was Dazai. He must have known since Atsushi himself had realized his feelings went beyond that of a mentee or a friend, or probably even before then. That epiphany had hit him, what, three or four months ago? And if Dazai hadn’t said anything…

Atsushi suddenly felt quite stupid and quite small. If Dazai had known this entire time, and not said anything, wasn’t that a clear rejection in itself? 

So that was it. 

Dazai was tolerating Atsushi’s unprofessional and inconvenient crush because he didn’t want Atsushi to be embarrassed. He probably also wanted him to figure this out on his own, rather than spoonfeeding him the answer. His chest gave a painful squeeze.

After all, what in the world was there to like about Atsushi? What could Dazai possibly see in him besides a useless, naive orphan who happened to be attached to a strong ability? Especially when it had taken him this long to put the truth together?

Not a mate, he snapped again at the tiger, a little more harshly than he meant to. She opened her eyes and growled back. 

“Atsushi-kun?” Dazai wasn’t smiling anymore. 

Atsushi cleared his throat and blinked and blinked and blinked until he was sure he could look at Dazai without his vision getting blurry. “Yes, Dazai-san?”

Dazai’s brow was ever-so-slightly furrowed, the way it was when he forgot to put in his contacts and had to squint to read tiny text on his computer. Although, maybe that, too, was a ruse. Was this another test of his? Was he able to glean exactly what he had been thinking so that he could create another game for Atsushi? 

“Atsushi-kun,” he began slowly, “I think there’s been a misunder–”

“Tea!” Atsushi blurted out. “I completely forgot. I was supposed to make tea for you! One moment, please!” He shot straight up and rolled out of the bed, looking anywhere but at Dazai and letting the door swing shut behind him.

Out here in the kitchen, he could finally breathe, the suffocating presence of Dazai’s rejection no longer choking him. He dug around in the cupboards and found a dusty carton of green tea. He frowned. He’d been hoping for something non-caffeinated, but this would do. 

As he watched the water heat up in the microwave, he ran through his options. He could return and pretend nothing was wrong, but Dazai would see right through him. He could give Dazai the tea and then make up an excuse to leave, but as tempting as it was, it would never work. Again, Dazai was far too shrewd to be fooled by the likes of Atsushi, and even if he somehow fell for it, hot, slimy guilt curled in Atsushi’s belly at the thought of leaving him alone to fight off the rest of his sickness. Atsushi was braver than that. He’d fought mafia executives and come out the other end alive and well. He could handle an uncomfortable conversation (even if he would far prefer another brawl with an executive). 

The scent of jasmine filled the kitchen as Atsushi added the teabag into the cup. When he shuffled back to the bedroom, Dazai was upright against the headboard, fingering the bandages on his left wrist. He straightened when Atsushi entered. 

“Sorry for the wait. It took me a while to find your tea.” He passed the steaming cup to his mentor. Dazai waved his hand dismissively.

“It’s fine. I’m amazed you found any at all.”

“I tried to sniff it out, but there were so many half-empty bottles of sake covering the scent that I had to look for it the old-fashioned way.”

Dazai chuckled, and Atsushi ached. 

An awkward silence filled the room, broken only by Dazai’s quiet sips. 

“Is there anything else you need from me?” Atsushi asked quietly, staring at the hole in his sock over his right big toe.  

His traitorous mind played out a fantasy before he could stop himself. Yes, Atsushi-kun. Yes, I need you. I need you to stay here, by my side. I need you to be close to me. I need you just like I know you need me. 

After a long pause, Dazai spoke up, his voice soft. “No. I don’t need any more from you.” 

Atsushi nodded quickly, hoping the movement would somehow dislodge the swelling lump in his throat. “Okay.”

“You can leave if you want to.”

His eyes burned. There was a second, bigger hole in that same sock, peeking out from the bottom of his heel. “Okay,” he whispered. He gave a slight bow before turning to the door. “Feel better, Dazai-san. I’ll see you at the office.”

“I said ‘if you want to.’ Does Atsushi-kun want to leave?”

A flash of irritation and hurt sparked in his chest. Screw whatever lesson he was trying to impart on Atsushi. This was cruel, even for Dazai. His fingers clenched into fists, but his anger immediately melted away as a massive wave of guilt crashed over him. 

Dazai didn’t owe Atsushi a thing. Everything he had done since he’d scooped him out of the river had improved Atsushi’s life in some way, shape, or form, with presumably little benefit to Dazai. What right did he have to get upset like this instead of being grateful for all that his mentor had given him?

He heard a deep inhale behind him. Then, Dazai spoke again.

“If it helps Atsushi-kun come to a decision… I don’t want you to leave.”

Atsushi froze. His tiger ears popped out of the top of his head on instinct, swiveling behind to catch all noise coming from the bed. 

“What… What do you want, then?” he asked. The air between them felt as fragile as glass. 

A pause. Then…

“I want you to do what you want.”

Atsushi’s heart rate kicked up several gears. He turned back around slowly, a part of him sure that he would see Dazai leering the way he did when he was playing a prank on Kunikida.

Dazai was not leering. His eyes flicked up to Atsushi’s, sincere and almost anticipatory. He didn’t move, and for a long moment, neither did Atsushi.

He took a step forward eventually, then another, then another. His heart drummed an even faster beat against his ribcage as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Dazai gestured for him to continue. 

Do what you want.

Atsushi swallowed. This had to be a mistake. If Atsushi did what he really wanted to do…

Dazai shifted the tiniest bit over on the bed, just enough to send a message. 

An invitation.

When he pushes me away, I’m going to leave, Atsushi promised himself as he lifted the blanket and scooted closer. I’ll walk out that door without looking back and I will forevermore maintain a strictly professional relationship with Dazai-san. 

He couldn’t look at Dazai, and mercifully, his mentor didn’t ask him to. Before he could talk himself out of it, he tucked his face against Dazai’s chest and looped an arm around his waist. 

The first thing Atsushi registered was the warmth. He was still pretty hot from the fever, but it was lower than it had been in the morning. 

The second thing was the scent. He never thought he’d find a smell like smoke and convenience store cologne to be so comforting, and now he was completely surrounded by it, somehow both soothed and electrified. 

Atsushi's heart had never worked this hard before; he could hear it right under his ear, a terrified gallop that surely could be heard throughout the building. He waited for the inevitable push, for the laughter, for the moment Dazai pulled the plug on whatever game he was playing and shoved his gross, useless body away.

Dazai’s arm shifted. Here it comes, Atsushi thought miserably. He squeezed his eyes shut, and braced himself for the impact of…

A hand on his head? 

A hand petting his head?

“Well done,” Dazai murmured. Atsushi trembled; he had never heard his voice from this close before. “You’ve gotten very brave since you first found me.”

Upon further notice, that heartbeat Atsushi was hearing wasn’t his own. Under his ear, there was another rhythm, a bum-bum, bum-bum, bum-bum that was even faster than Atsushi’s.

“I’m not controlling it,” Dazai answered before Atsushi could even formulate the question in his mind. A pause. “Ahh, this is so humiliating! I hate being genuine, and I hate even more that it’s working!” he moaned. 

“It’s… working?” Atsushi’s brain was lagging, delirious from the proximity and sheer bewilderment. 

“Worst of all,” he bemoaned, “I hate that Ranpo is right. So annoying! What does he know about any of this stuff?!”

“Dazai-san,” Atsushi whispered. “I don’t understand.”

“I’ve been dropping hints for months now, and you’ve ignored all of them! Do you know how hard I worked to create the perfect situation over and over for you to confess, all for it to go right over your head?” he lamented. “That time by the beach, or the river we met at during sunset, or when that waitress mistook us for a couple at that cafe? You really put your poor mentor through the wringer! Ah, whatever, it doesn’t matter now. I guess there’s nothing more to it; I have to be honest and direct.” The hand in his hair stopped moving. 

“Atsushi-kun, I like you. Let’s go on a date this weekend.”

Time stopped. The world ceased to spin. Atsushi’s breath was brutally kidnapped somewhere between his lungs and his mouth. 

“Atsushi-kun, please say something. I can’t remember the last time I was this embarrassed! I think I might die from it. Hmm, wouldn’t that be an interesting way to go–”

“Dazai-san. Stop.” His fingers clenched in the fabric of Dazai’s shirt. “I’m– I don’t– This is–”

“Yes or no, Atsushi-kun?” 

“Yes!” he gasped out. “Yes, yes, I want that, yes, but… I didn’t know… I just…”

“You just…?”

Atsushi pressed his face into Dazai’s chest. “I’m just really happy.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this happy. 

“Are you smiling?”

His cheeks were starting to hurt. “Of course not.”

Dazai poked his forehead. “Atsushi-kuuun, let me see!” he whined. A laugh bubbled out of Atsushi before he could stop it.

“No. Not yet.” Atsushi nudged him gently. “I want to stay like this a bit longer.”

Dazai stopped, then gave a soft huff. His hand fell away from Atsushi’s face. “Well, if that’s what you want.”

An idea popped into Atsushi’s head. “Unless you don’t want to? I’m sorry, Dazai-san, I shouldn’t have assumed.” He shifted as though he was going to pull away. 

His plan went perfectly. Dazai squeezed his torso hard, preventing Atsushi from moving any further. “Hey, hey, hey, when did I say that? Where do you think you’re going?” he admonished. 

“Just wanted to make sure,” Atsushi said through his laughter. 

“So cheeky! And to think, you used to be so quiet and timid when you first joined the Agency. Where did you learn to get so fresh?”

Atsushi grinned. “Must have been a bad influence.”

Dazai clicked his tongue in displeasure. “I knew you’d been spending too much time around Kunikida. Who knows how many other bad habits you picked up from that brat?”

Atsushi burst into laughter again, even though the joke wasn’t that funny. The sheer happiness he was experiencing must be making him stupid.

Dazai hadn’t stopped running his fingers through Atsushi’s hair the entire time, and when he dug his nails into his scalp, pleasant shivers ran down his spine. 

“Feel nice?”

Atsushi nodded. “I see why you like it so much.”

“Mmm, right?”

They fell into another silence. He was pretty sure by now that this wasn’t a dream, but just in case the universe was playing a cruel joke on him, Atsushi closed his eyes and tried to etch every single detail of the moment into his mind: the slow rise and fall of Dazai’s breathing, the gentle fingers combing through his hair, the fizzy, happy feeling in his chest, and the warmth that cradled him from head to toe.

“What’s Atsushi-kun thinking so hard about?” Dazai crooned, playfully tugging at the longer strand on the right side of his head.

He batted with half-hearted effort at Dazai’s hand. “A part of me can’t believe this is real. I thought… I thought this was another one of your schemes,” he admitted. 

“Oh, it is!” Dazai said cheerfully. “This is my grand, evil scheme to get you, Atsushi-kun, to tell me everything you like about me!” 

He snorted. “You don’t need to scheme for that, Dazai-san. You can just ask.”

“... Eh?” 

Atsushi paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. “I like that you are kind.”

Dazai froze like a deer in headlights. “Huh?”

“I like that you’re trustworthy. I’ve never seen you let down the people that are counting on you. The ADA would never be as efficient as it is without you.”

He squirmed under Atsushi. “Wait, this is–”

“I like that you’re devoted to making up for your past and that every day, you try your best to be good.” 

“Atsushi, hang on–” 

“I like that you aren’t fazed by anything under pressure and you’re always calm and collected.” Atsushi paused. “Don’t tell Kunikida, but sometimes I secretly think it’s funny how you wind him up. I like that, too. And also…” He flushed. “I like how you take care of me. I want to take care of you like that as well. I want to be strong so you can rely on me, and so that you never feel alone.”

That certainly wasn’t everything Atsushi liked about Dazai, but it seemed like a pretty good start. 

Silence. Worry gnawed at his heart, so he sat up to better look at Dazai

If it weren’t for the redness growing on his cheeks and creeping under his neck bandages, he could be mistaken for someone who had just witnessed a horrific crime. His eyes were wide and unblinking and his lips kept opening and closing, like he was trying to speak but had forgotten how to make sounds accompany the mouth movements. Atsushi’s worry turned into fear. Did he go too far? Had he accidentally offended Dazai?

“Um, Dazai–san–”

He buried his face in his hands. “Atsushi, please don’t ever do that to me again,” he moaned from behind his palms. “No one’s ever– I mean– What I mean to say is–”

He cut himself off with a frustrated growl. 

“You’re too powerful, Atsushi-kun,” Dazai whined. Atsushi shook himself out of his daze and pulled gently at his bandaged wrists. 

“It’s okay, Dazai-san. You don’t need to hide.”

“No! Atsushi, look away! You can’t see me like this!”

He gave another tug. “If you stop hiding, I’ll tell you what the tiger said to me earlier.”

Dazai peeked one eye between the space of his fingers. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

He blew out a sigh and lowered his hands. “You drive a hard bargain, Atsushi-kun.”

He wondered how many people had managed to render Osamu Dazai speechless like this before, and allowed himself another moment to take in the sight before him and bask in pride. 

“Well? You promised!”

“Okay, okay!” He dropped back down so his head was tucked under Dazai’s chin. “Actually, I forgot what she said.”

“Atsushi, please get better at lying before you insult me with another terrible attempt.”

“Fine.” Atsushi cleared his throat, then cleared it again. He brought his hand up to smooth the wrinkles out of Dazai’s shirt, then busied himself with adjusting the strings on his hoodie. 

“Atsushi–”

“She kept calling you her mate!” he finally blurted out. It could not be good for a human being to experience this much embarrassment in a single day. “She never listens to me when I tell her that’s not the case. She’s happier when you’re around. Calmer. She likes you.”

He buried his face into the fabric bunched under his hands. 

“Her mate?”

“Huh?”

“Let me rephrase. Just her mate?”

Oh, Atsushi could hear the grin in his voice. He was so done for. 

“Dazai-san, please don’t tease me,” he begged. 

“Why, I would never!” A hand came up to lightly scratch at the base of his scalp again, and it felt so nice that Atsushi almost forgot to feel humiliated. “I just can’t help but wonder–”

“Dazai-san–”

“At-at-at, it’s rude to interrupt your seniors, Atsushi-kun! As I was saying, I can’t help but wonder what the tiger could possibly mean by that. Say, when did you realize you liked me?”

“Um… a few months ago?” 

“Aw, poor Atsushi, pining for so long! And when did the tiger start calling me her mate?”

“... A few weeks ago.”

“And the tiger is an extension of you, so really, what you’re saying is that long before this–” he gestured aimlessly to the space around the bed, “-you and your tiger had already decided I was your mate?”

“Don’t say it like that! Of course I would never just decide that for someone without asking!” he insisted. 

He had never seen Dazai look more smug than when he said, “So ask.” 

Damn it! He’d laid the perfect trap and Atsushi had walked right into it! “I… I can’t,” he protested feebly.

The hand that wasn’t buried in Atsushi’s hair came up to squeeze his shoulder. “Why not? I want to hear Atsushi-kun ask me to be his mate!”

“No, Dazai-san. That’s so cringey!” Atsushi’s face was getting hot again just imagining doing so. “Besides…” he mumbled. “I already know the answer.”

His smile widened. “Oh?”

Atsushi fidgeted with a wrinkle in Dazai’s shirt. “Mmm.”

Dazai chuckled. “Atsushi-kun should be confident more often. It’s a good look on you.”

He pressed his grin into Dazai’s chest. “I’ll work on it.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

They dozed on and off for the rest of the night. Dazai had gotten up to use the bathroom once and when the tiger reappeared, she gave him such an earful, crowing on and on about having secured his mate, that Atsushi couldn’t cling to Dazai fast enough when he returned.

And, well, maybe he wanted to take advantage of the fact that he could do that now. 

The morning light streamed through the thin curtains and Atsushi had to get up and make them both breakfast and prepare more of Dazai’s medicine and call Yosano, but he was finding it quite hard to leave with Dazai using his chest as a pillow, and figured there was no harm in indulging himself a bit longer.

It was rare to see Dazai so relaxed. Even when he napped at work, he always had a line of tension down his back and a thinness to his breathing, as though primed for an attack even in his sleep. Right now, though, he practically melted into Atsushi, his chest rising and falling as steadily as ocean tides.

He looked better, too. He still definitely felt too warm, but his skin wasn’t as alarmingly scorching as yesterday. His hair had gotten even puffier, and his forehead was a little greasy with sweat, and every so often he let out a snore before ungracefully nuzzling into Atsushi’s chest.

In short, he was so handsome it almost hurt to look at him. 

Dazai chose that moment to blink himself awake, and his confused grumble sent another wave of fondness through Atsushi.

“Good morning, Dazai-san,” he greeted before he did something stupid like propose. Dazai mumbled an unintelligible reply and closed his eyes, seemingly intent on drifting right back to sleep. Atsushi gently shook his shoulder. “You can keep sleeping, but I have to get up to make us breakfast.”

He opened one bleary eye and squinted. “Hey, Atsushi-kun, don’t you think it's a bit silly now to address me so formally?” he rasped, voice still thick with sleep. 

Atsushi considered this. “I guess so. It’s just… I’ve always known you as ‘Dazai-san.’ The thought of calling you anything else is a bit strange.”

“Not at all!” Dazai sat up, all traces of exhaustion gone. “In fact, why don’t you try it right now?”

“Uh, okay… Osamu-san?”

“Still too formal, but you’re getting closer!”

His stomach flipped. “O-Osamu?”

“Exactly! Again!”

“... I think I get the idea.”

“You should say it again, just to be sure.”

Atsushi stifled a smile. “Osamu.”

“Mmm.” Osamu settled back on Atsushi’s chest. “Perfect.”

“I’m not calling you that at work, by the way,” Atsushi warned.

Osamu frowned. Atsushi gave him an exasperated look. “We need to be professional if we’re going to be…” 

Atsushi trailed off. He was sort of hoping Osamu would finish the rest, but of course he wouldn’t make it that easy. 

“Going to be what?”

Heat rose to Atsushi’s face, along with a fair amount of anxiety. Atsushi could definitely think of a few ways to finish the sentence, but what if he was wrong? What if he’d misread the signs yet again? Maybe Osamu wasn’t looking for something serious. Maybe he didn’t want to put a label on anything. Maybe he didn’t want to be with Atsushi for very long. Each of those thoughts made his gut twist tighter and tighter until his voice became trapped in his throat.

Atsushi knew he wasn’t hiding his turmoil well because Osamu sighed and squeezed his arms around Atsushi a little tighter. “Let me rephrase: what does Atsushi want this to be?”

Atsushi bit his lip. What did he want?

He turned his answer over and over in his mind for what felt like forever before he managed to get it out.

“I want to date you for a really long time, Dazai-san!” he choked out. 

Osamu chuckled. “Wrong address, but I’ll let it slide.” He tapped the pad of his finger on Atsushi’s nose. “Atsushi-kun and I are on the same page, then, as long as he’s okay with dating someone as evil as me!”

Atsushi shook his head. “I would never date someone evil. You’re the opposite of that.”

Osamu froze, then let out a sigh. “If you say so,” he said with a smile. “If we’re going to do this, I want you to keep going after what you want.”

Atsushi was beginning to understand. “Like… this?”

He smoothed his hand down Osamu’s arm and laced their fingers together. Osamu inhaled, then tucked his face into Atsushi’s chest, hiding his expression. 

But his ears were bright red. 

“Atsushi is a quick learner,” he mumbled. 

Atsushi grinned. 

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

He was able to convince Osamu to detach from his body long enough to make breakfast, and when he returned with two bowls of steaming chazuke, he was fast asleep again. Atsushi carefully shook him awake.

“Dazai–san?” 

Osamu grumbled. Atsushi gave a sheepish smile. 

“Sorry. Osamu?”

He hummed in approval. Atsushi took that as a sign that he had his attention. 

“You look better,” he said. Dazai yawned and rolled onto his back. 

“I don’t know about that. I still feel so very weak.”

“Is that so?” 

“Mmm-hmm. My arms… all my strength is gone… I could barely hold a spoon in this state…” he bemoaned. 

Atsushi huffed. “Fine, I’ll feed you. Sit up.”

Osamu made a happy noise when his lips closed around the offered spoon. “Atsushi’s gotten very good at cooking.”

His chest warmed. “I’m glad you like it.”

They made it about halfway through the bowl before Osamu turned his head away. “If I eat any more, I’ll burst,” he insisted. 

His earlier dramatics about being weak probably weren’t entirely exaggerated; clearly, his illness had yet to work its course through his body. Atsushi frowned, but didn’t push it. He was glad Osamu had managed to even stomach that much. 

“Now, onto business.” Osamu flopped back down on the bed and motioned for Atsushi to join him, a request that Atsushi wasted no time fulfilling. Once Atsushi was nestled comfortably against Osamu's side, he spoke again. 

“Where does Atsushi-kun want to go this weekend?”

Atsushi was so caught up in appreciating how nice Osamu’s voice sounded from this close that he nearly forgot to answer. “Uh, I don’t know. Where do people usually go on first dates?”

“How should I know?” 

Atsushi’s brow furrowed. 

“I thought you’d been with a lot of people before.” His stomach curled at the thought.

Osamu grimaced. “Er, yes, those were moreso… fleeting interactions. The sort of momentary infatuation that exhausts itself in the course of a night, maybe two.”

“So, hook-ups?”

“Yes, Atsushi-kun. Hook-ups. The places you go to meet hook-ups are not the places you go for a first date.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t sure if that made him feel better, but at least he felt a little less out of his depth. “We could get coffee?”

“We do that all the time. It has to be more special!”

Atsushi wracked his brain. “Um, dinner?”

“Bo-ring! We can do better than that.”

“I’ve never done this before, either, Osamu, I’m not exactly brimming with ideas!” he huffed. “What about, I don’t know, an aquarium?”

Osamu giggled. Atsushi glared at him. 

“What.”

“It’s nothing, just… A cat wants to go to an aquarium for a first date?” 

Atsushi threw his hands up. “I don’t know what else–”

“Relax, relax, I never said I didn’t like the idea!” He rubbed his cheek on Atsushi’s hoodie. “If that’s where Atsushi-kun wants to go, then that’s where we’ll go.”

In a much quieter voice, he added, “I’ve never been to one before.”

“Me neither.”

“But it’s a good choice. I know it’ll be fun.”

“How?”

“Because Atsushi-kun will be with me. How could it not be?”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Osamu didn’t recover in time for a weekend date, but he did recover in time to return to work on Monday, much to his own vast disappointment.  

All hopes of hiding their relationship went out the window as soon as they set foot in the office on Monday. Atsushi knew it would be hard to keep secrets among a group of detectives, but he thought it would take at least a little longer for people to catch on than five minutes.

The moment Atsushi sat down at his desk and Osamu slumped over his and began his usual complaining about his paperwork, Junichirou wheeled over in his chair, Naomi right behind him. 

“I’m happy for you guys, Atsushi!” he whispered with a thumbs-up. Naomi smacked him on the shoulder. 

“They’re obviously trying to keep it quiet!” she scolded, then smiled at Atsushi. “But I’m happy for you, too!”

Yosano didn’t even bother saying anything. She just shot a knowing smile at Atsushi before disappearing into her office with a whining Osamu in tow. 

Kyoka was next. She appeared by Atsushi’s side seemingly out of nowhere, footsteps as silent as ever. 

Atsushi laid a hand on her head. “Good morning, Kyoka-chan. I’m sorry for not texting yesterday.”

She shrugged. “It’s fine. I can handle being on my own for a night.”

“Still, I should have said something to you.”

“I said it’s fine. You had your hands full.” She glanced over at Osamu, who had returned to his desk with a daunting pile of papers and a look of defeat, then back at Atsushi. “I’m glad you have each other.”

Last was Ranpo, who had the most unusual reaction. In retrospect, Atsushi was grateful beyond words that he had come up to Atsushi and Osamu when it was just the three of them in the office.

“Glad things worked out for you the way you wanted,” Ranpo said to Osamu with a smirk. Osamu huffed and looked away. 

Atsushi paused. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing at all. Word of advice, Atsushi: avoid swimming in rivers during winter.”

His eyes narrowed. “Yeah, obviously. Why would anyone–”

Wait a minute. 

“Dazai-san,” he said, turning slowly to face him, “Did you happen to go into the river last week?”

Osamu dusted some non-existent lint off of his shirt. “I may have done so, yes.”

“I thought you said you hadn’t tried to commit in months!”

“Of course not, Atsushi-kun, you think I would lie to you? Come now, it’s a brand new week, we should be looking forward to our bright future instead of dwelling on the past! In fact, I see a lovely cup of coffee for the both of us in the very near future!” Osamu tried to usher Atsushi outside of the office and towards the elevator, but Atsushi planted his feet firmly on the ground. Osamu may far outclass him in intellect but he was no match for Atsushi when it came to raw strength. 

“Why would you do something like that?! No wonder you got so sick–”

Atsushi froze. Ranpo snickered before ducking into the President’s office. Osamu stood very still. 

“Dazai.”

“Yes, my dear tiger?”

“You wouldn’t do something as ridiculous as get yourself sick on purpose to get out of work, right?”

Osamu whirled around. “I would never! I'm not that allergic to work! Plus, a few days off would never be worth the agony of being bedridden and feverish and disgusting! Of all the reasons to ‘get myself sick,’ skipping work has got to be one of the worst!”

There was a tense silence. 

“Being doted on by Atsushi-kun, though…”

That’s when Atsushi exploded. “What were you thinking?” he cried. “What kind of maniacal idea is that? Why didn’t you just ask?”

“... Ask?”

“Yeah, ask! Just ask me to care for you, or whatever it is you wanted, instead of going and giving yourself the flu!” 

Atsushi had plenty more to say, but the look on Osamu’s face stopped him. A sense of deja-vu seeped into his anger.

When Atsushi first joined the Agency, he had been so eager to prove his gratitude and worth that he had thrown himself headfirst into work and papers and database logging and back-to-back all-nighters and coffee runs and anything and everything he could think of to help out. It wasn’t until he’d damn near collapsed on the walk home from the office that Kunikida halved his workload and pulled him aside later that week. 

In the future, if there’s too much on your plate, tell us, he’d made Atsushi promise. We help each other. We will help you, too.

Atsushi remembered marveling at the realization that that was an option.

Something heavy curled around Atsushi. He took a deep breath, relaxed his shoulders, and stepped forward to take Osamu’s hand. 

“I like caring for you,” he admitted, squeezing bony fingers gently between his own. “And I’m glad I can do it more now. If you want something specific from me, please ask me. Without any schemes. Don’t… don’t do anything like that again.”

Osamu stared somewhere around Atsushi’s shoulder with a vaguely confused, vaguely empty expression. His hand was limp in his grasp.

He dragged his gaze up to meet Atsushi’s. 

“Right,” he finally said. “In the future, I’ll ask Atsushi-kun to take care of me.” He cleared his throat. “You’ll have to forgive me. I haven’t had… someone like you in a long time.” Osamu’s entire body seemed to sag under a great invisible weight. 

Another silence. Atsushi didn’t know what to say, except…

“Osamu, can we still go get that coffee?”

He blinked, then blinked once more. Atsushi watched as he slowly climbed out of whatever hole in his mind Atsushi had accidentally pushed him into. He squeezed his hand again. 

This time, Osamu squeezed back. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, and when he opened them again, he was back, and had brought with him an enormous softness that Atsushi couldn’t bear to look away from. 

“I forgot my wallet at home,” he said. Atsushi laughed and tugged at his arm. 

“I want to treat you.”

The corners of Osamu’s eyes crinkled with his smile, “Well, if that’s what Atsushi-kun wants, who am I to say no?”