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If he really thought about it, he was in love with every inch of Dazai, inside and out. He just didn’t ever act like it. That would be strange, would it not?
Chuuya managed to get off work at dusk, the red and orange sunlit glow covering Yokohama. He’d be able to cook dinner and fall asleep alongside his husband tonight. The door creaked as he entered the apartment, taking his shoes off with his heels. The hat and coat were next, going on the rack beside the door.
“Osamu?”
“Right here Chibi,” his voice came from around the wall. Chuuya stepped over to see the man laid out on his stomach, a book, that wasn’t the suicide guide, in his hands. He seemed to have finally listened to his lover, not reading the book that constantly gave the man anxiety. He was dressed in gray sweatpants and a loose black t-shirt. A band one to be exact, stolen from Chuuya’s section of clothes. Anything that was big on the shorter man, fit perfectly on the taller man’s skinny frame, which wasn’t as malnourished as in the past. He’d certainly become healthier by the reinforcements of his husband. The brunette's hair had a soft wave to it, looking as if he’d showered without being asked. Adding to that, his bandages up to his elbows were fresh and neatly wrapped, along with the ones on his neck.
Dazai looked up from the book to smile at his husband, a simple gesture that always warmed his heart. It was different from his teasing one, or the one displayed to others. It was honest. It told Chuuya that he was making a positive impact in his husband's life.
“Got anything to complain about Darling?” The detective asked, placing his book upside down on the coffee table, not moving from how he was laying as he did so.
“Not particularly,” he muttered, pretending like his eyes weren't glazing down the man’s back. They followed the tilt of his shoulders, to the curve of his back, to the way the sweatpants hugged his lower half.
“Eyes up here~” Dazai teased with a knowing smirk. Chuuya knew the tips of his ears were turning red without even being told. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, trying to hide his embarrassment.
“How was your work?” he asked, trying to recover. Dazai pondered for a moment.
“I made a grave mistake today! I thought it would be funny to hide Ranpo’s candy. I have never seen a man older than me act as much like a toddler as that. He figured out it was me almost immediately, since who else would be able to break into his safe?”
“He has a safe for his snacks?” Chuuya scoffed as the other nodded.
“Don’t ask. Maybe it’s some kind of trauma response.”
“Or he’s just weird, like the rest of your coworkers,” the ginger remarked. The setting sun casted a shimmer into the apartment as it hid behind the horizon, lighting Dazai elegantly. He knew the man was thinking the same way about him, based on how his eyes traced his face.
“I’m going to shower then I’ll make dinner,” Chuuya suddenly spun around, flustered from being stared at in such a way.
“Without me?”
“Yes without you Mackerel!” He called back as he went into the bedroom to get his pajamas. Turns out he was ignored as he stepped into the bathroom, Dazai sat on the floor against the toilet, reading the book from earlier.
“You’re a bit needy, don't ya’ think?” he asked as he set the clothes beside the sink. Dazai shrugged, not looking up from his book.
“I had to go like… a whole 8 hours without you! That’s like three days in Dazai time.”
“Dazai time, of course,” Chuuya whispered to himself with a smile as he began to undress. He knew the brunette was watching him, that was to be expected, but he didn’t pursue anything. The executive was able to go through with his shower peacefully, having a mindless conversation with Dazai about what was happening in his book. When he got out of the shower, his husband was sitting on the sink reading now. It was like a weeping angel how he slowly got closer. Once dressed, Chuuya stood in front of the sink mirror, as he did his skin care Dazai never understood. When he sensed the other was done with his routine, the detective made the mistake of leaning over to kiss his cheek, yanking back and almost falling off the sink at the taste of skin care products.
“Ew! Slug you need to use something that tastes better-”
“Well you’re not supposed to eat it Bastard!”
They moved out to the kitchen, where Dazai sat on the island counter as Chuuya began to prepare the ingredients for Soba. The brunette kicked his feet as he watched his husband move around the kitchen like it was second nature.
“It’s kinda sad,” Dazai suddenly addressed, “we see each other so much that we hardly have anything to talk about. Anything that’s interesting at least.” The ginger paused to thin, before nodding.
“Yeah, I see what you’re saying. How about… ask me questions?” he offered as he boiled the water on the stove. Dazai was about to ask, “like what?” but decided not to. He could think of something himself to create a deeper conversation than “how was your day?”
“What do you love most about me?” The question hung in the air as the red head turned halfway from the stove toward him. He seemed to genuinely be thinking about the question.
“A basic but true answer would be everything, except when you annoy me. But a deeper answer would just be you, like the honest self you only show to me, without the facades.” If the words affected Dazai, he didn’t show it. Though it definitely did, being told he was loved for him, not for the person he presented as. God, no one could replace Chuuya for him.
“My turn,” Chuuya said as he added noodles to the pot, “What memory of us is the most meaningful to you?” He sprang it out like he prepared it ahead of time. Dazai smiled, blush appearing as he fiddled with the chain that hung low on his neck. The one that held half of the wedding bands. He tended to blush when excited, which only warmed Chuuya’s heart more as he glanced back at him.
“Probably when I proposed. I seriously thought you’d throw the ring in the ocean and me after it,” he chuckled, but the way he rubbed the wedding band showed his flusteredness.
“My worst fear is that if you did it before me, you’d make a giant scene in public with it,” he growled, suppressing the smile that wanted to grow. He could hardly pretend to be annoyed around this man anymore.
“I did think about that, but that would also mean I’d have the chance to get rejected in public. It was hard enough getting over the fear of commitment and just freeballing it with you.” Chuuya laughed at the man’s choice of words before Dazai continued on, “Uh, another one… what would be the dealbreaker for us in your opinion?” The brunette watched the other work at the stove, seeing as the answer his mind conjured disturbed him.
“Less of us, more for me… but if you were ever successful in… you know.”
“Well no shit Chuuya, death kinda ends a relationship does it not?” he tried to joke, knowing the thought of his death bothered the ginger.
“Fine then. A real answer would be if you cheated further than a hook up. A one night stand could be passed off as a drunk mistake, though it would break my trust. Anything more consistent than that would make me send you through a couple walls.” The threat made Dazai giggle, but he felt the need to reassure his husband.
“You know I have no intention of any of that, right? And even if I get that drunk you’re usually with me.”
“Fair enough,” the executive admitted, “Keeping with my train of thought, do you ever feel depressed when around me?” It was like the air stopped circulating. Dazai went quiet as Chuuya turned away from the stove to look at him.
“It’s not… exactly something that just goes away. I’ll live with it forever. I’ve come to accept that I’m not dying anytime soon, since the thought of it only leads me back to you… and I couldn’t do that to you.” The atmosphere turned dark way faster than expected. Chuuya's jaw was tense and he was avoiding eye contact. It was obvious he felt guilt that he couldn’t always help his lover.
“My question, what would you do if I died?” Dazai asked, studying how the thoughts passed through Chuuya’s brain. He seemed to get more and more upset as he dwelled on it.
“Release Corruption and go out alongside it,” he answered, swallowing thickly. That was more than an “I love you” could ever say. If Dazai died, Chuuya would too, and take as many people out with him. Corruption would be a painful death, basically tearing him from the inside out, like being mutilated by fire.
“I feel like my response should be to not do that, but we both know I’d do the same thing, just with a river,” Dazai’s voice was close to a whisper. The thought of death didn’t disturb him, but the thought of Chuuya dying? The hypothetical made him want to shut his eyes and block the world out.
“I uh… yeah, let’s move on,” Chuuya caught on to the unpleasant atmosphere, coming up to kiss Dazai on the forehead. He tilted the man’s head down so he could reach. The detective then reached out to wrap his arms around the shorter man, pulling him against him.
“Samu, I’m cooking,” he huffed, knowing the bastard was planning on clinging to him. He received a dog-like whine and wasn’t released.
“Sweetheart no one's dying.”
“I know that, but still,” he muffled into the ginger’s neck, hot breath fanning across the pale skin. It took more effort than expected to pull away from the clingy man, who watched the others every movement as he returned to cooking, finishing up the meal.
“Do thoughts of me ever come up during work?” Dazai asked with an undertone of excitement. It was subtle, but Chuuya was becoming visibly flustered.
“More than I’d like to admit, yes,” he confessed as he set the dirty cookware into the dishwasher, grabbing a small towel to dry his hands.
“What about anything… intimate?” The brunette coo’d with a devilish smirk. Chuuya hissed, spinning around and whipping the towel on his arm.
“Ow! Darling you’re mean!”
“You asked for it!” He shouted back, watching his husband slide off the counter. Dazai moved strategically, keeping space from Chuuya as he got toward the sink, back against the counter.
“So I should take that as a yes? Maybe you imagine me under your desk doing unholy- hey!” he cried as Chuuya smacked the towel against his legs.
“You’re like a dirty teenager! Grow up!” That’s when the ginger realized why Dazai moved to the sink. In a split second, the faucet was turned on and the hose was angled to spray water at the red head’s face. Dazai didn’t hold it there for long, just enough to shock him and make him sputter out water, turning the sink off right after.
“You’re a fucking asshole!” Chuuya scoffed, his face dripping with water. The front of his shirt was decently soaked as well.
“Maybe cause you wanna fuck my a-” he’s cut off by another swing of the hand towel. This time, the detective grabs hold of it, using it to yank Chuuya into his arms and kiss his wet lips. The executive pretended to be disgusted as he pulled his head back.
“I really hate you, you know that?”
“Nah, I think you love me.”