Archive of Our Own

Defeating the Decay of Angels came with a string of consequences nobody saw coming.

Kunikida had to get a stronger prescription of glasses; jumping out of that helicopter to grab onto an explosive came with more than just mental repercussions, at times white dots would filter over his pupils and cloud his vision. Yosano had turned to more wine and more alcohol and anything that could numb the flashbacks that would hit at the worst of times, some connected to her time in the war, some connected to a blade swinging towards her neck at lightning speed.

Atsushi dealt with a heavy anxiety about losing his memories, losing a person he thought he couldn’t stand; Akutagawa standing next to him, speaking monumental words as Atsushi sacrificed himself for his enemy was a memory that seemed impossible to shake. Ranpo became withdrawn, pulling himself from social interactions between his coworkers that he usually would have enjoyed, his doubt in himself coming down tenfold after everything that had transpired.

They pulled themselves back together the only way they knew how: with each other. 

Kunikida was the first to return to the office, followed by Yosano and then the President. They cleaned papers from the floors, cataloged weapons, and spent days making the office back into what it used to be. Ranpo followed, then Kyouka and Tanizaki, mellow and almost hesitant to walk back into the building. Atsushi was next, after coming back from London with a plethora of new things to add to his list of traumas. 

Dazai hadn’t shown for three weeks. Ranpo assured everyone with a monotone voice that they couldn’t believe belonged to him that Dazai was safe, he was fine and tying up loose ends that didn’t necessarily concern the Agency as a whole. The transfer deal sat heavy on everyone’s shoulders, but Mori hadn’t reached out to Fukuzawa and a glint in Ranpo’s eyes one afternoon while discussing it told everyone it had mysteriously fallen through.

The Agency reopened their doors a month after everyone’s return and started taking cases. Small ones, things that wouldn’t put unnecessary pressure on anyone as they continued to recover. It was both welcomed and uncomfortable, after feeling the weight of the world for so long, anything mundane was almost offensive.

—

Dazai had been acting strange, stranger than usual.

At first, they chalked it up to him dealing with the aftermath of being head to head with Fyodor, dealing with the mental repercussions of that in the only way he could- which was being strange. He would get calls in the middle of the afternoon, always around the same time, calls he would stumble outside to take, his broken leg still causing issues. Dazai was secretive, it wasn’t weird that he preferred to answer his phone outside, it was weird he was answering his phone at all. In the past, Dazai had let it ring uncontrollably on his desk as he lazed around, napped on the couch, or as he downright ignored it. Now, he would flip the device over with vigor and was answering the call before he could even slip out the door.

Atsushi was the first to walk into one of the hushed conversations. 

He was worried when he stood at the bottom of the staircase, out of Dazai’s view, when he heard the office door click shut. Atsushi was well aware of the strange phone calls his mentor was receiving and in full honesty, as much as he wanted to know what was going on, he had enough turmoil in his mind to sift through to try and pry it out of him. 

“Yeah?” Dazai’s voice came from above, the cadence in it was something foreign to Atsushi, the way he sounded hopeful yet steady. 

Atsushi didn’t know what he was discussing, or with who, but it stopped him in his tracks entirely. 

“Are you sure? I know you liked the other one, too.” Dazai spoke before going silent for a few more moments, “It’s rude to follow a question with a question y’know!”

A chuckle followed his statement of theatrics, something genuine that almost sounded fond.

“I’m sure, but are you?” Atsushi could imagine what Dazai looked like right now, leaning against the wall, hand flimsy around one of the crutches, head downcast as he spoke, “Then let’s do it.”

A few more moments passed by before he spoke again, “Annoying and gross, sign it and I’ll see you later.”

He heard shuffling before the rubber on the bottom of Dazai’s crutch hit the ground and the sound of the door swinging open and closing behind Dazai was heard. Atsushi couldn’t even begin to piece together what the conversation could’ve been about, or who Dazai was even speaking to. Nothing of it made sense, but neither did a lot of things that came with his mentor, so he decided to brush it off and make his way up the staircase finally.

The next person to overhear one of the secretive conversations was Yosano.

She had said her goodbyes for the day as she headed towards the office door, a headache throbbing in her skull from the bright infirmary lights. Dazai had left the building some time ago, so it came as a shock when she opened the office door to hear him at the bottom of the staircase. She quietly shut the door behind herself and paused, straining to listen in on a conversation she knew she shouldn’t.

“What if it falls through?” Dazai sounded hesitant and Yosano really did not want to know what made a man like Dazai Osamu hesitant. 

She peered over the railing as the silence stretched, whoever was on the other line was obviously answering the question. Yosano could see very little of Dazai, but she could see him leaning heavily against the wall with an arm wrapped around himself, fiddling with the edge of his tan coat. 

“I know, I just can’t help but think this will come back to haunt us.” He breathed into the phone, whatever he was talking about sounded serious, until a string of laughter tore itself from his mouth, “You’re an idiot.”

The laughter sounded so genuine, like it had sped out of his throat before he could stop it and Yosano felt her eyes widen in shock. It had been so long since she’d heard him sound like that, if she could even recall a time he did sound like that. Dazai would poke fun, a lot, at everyone in the Agency, using his theatrical personality to get everyone to do what he wanted, often laughing to himself about small things, but this- this was unfiltered laughter, driven by something real. 

At the realization, she turned on her heel and resorted to use the other exit and give Dazai privacy for whatever he was speaking about; she wouldn’t take that away from him after everything that had happened.

—

A month passed, August bled into September and the Agency was still trying to put themselves back together.

Days had blended together and it felt like everyone was collectively trying to pull themselves out of a circling pit of water. None of them seemed to be themselves, still dealing with the repercussions of what had happened, feigning normalcy through small things that never seemed to work.

“I have a proposition!” Dazai waltzed into the office with a carrier of coffee and immediately everyone stopped what they were doing at the smell, not his voice. His leg had fully healed and the only evidence of it ever being broken was the slightest change in his step.

Kunikida walked from the copier to snatch a cup from the case, “Whatever it is, the answer is no.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask!” Dazai pouted, “How rude, Kunikida.”

“He’s stressed,” Yosano sighed as she approached, “Thanks for the coffee, did you poison it?”

“I would never do such a thing,” Dazai dropped the carrier on his desk and pulled out his chair, “So-”

“The answer is still no,” Kunikida said as he sipped the coffee, “And you still owe me so much money I hope you aren’t planning on me paying you back for this.”

Atsushi chuckled lightly at the interaction as he spoke, “Can I have one?”

“Of course! They are payment for my proposition I have yet to make.” Dazai finally sat down and rested his chin on his laced hands.

“You’re way too… peppy,” Yosano narrowed her eyes, “You sure these aren’t poisoned?” 

“Why would you even think such a thing?” Dazai pulled his own coffee out of the carrier and handed another to Atsushi.

“Well, for one your records were made public knowledge,” Kunikida pointed out, looking at Dazai from above his glasses, “And two, you’re… yourself.”

“What’s your proposition?” Ranpo emerged from the President’s office, the tone of his question caused the rest of the Agency to look over to him instead of Dazai.

He sounded knowing, and he was. Ranpo knew why Dazai had been acting weird, knew all about the phone calls in the stairway and what he was about to ask and it made him excited. It was different, new, and came with no outside threats to detect. 

“I have acquired a new residence,” Dazai smiled behind his hands, “It needs help.”

“Let me guess, you want us to do the work?” Kunikida let out a long sigh as a familiar annoyance crept up in his bones, one he hadn’t felt in months.

Atsushi practically spit out his coffee, “You’re moving?”

“Out of the dorms, yes!” Dazai beamed, though he was still being secretive.

Ranpo snorted and muttered under his breath, “As if you ever lived there to begin with.”

“Anyway,” Dazai shot him a glare, “I am in need of assistance.”

“What kind of residence is this? A psych ward?” Yosano asked, unimpressed as she leaned against the infirmary door. 

“You wound me,” Dazai shook his head, “It would be better if I just showed you.”

Kunikida pushed his glasses up, “No, we have a lot to get done today.”

“We don’t,” Dazai replied easily, “There isn’t anything in that stack of files on your desk that is life or death, and your dear coworker needs help!”

“The coworker who is a giant pain in my ass!” Kunikida roared, although the frustration was warm in his chest, it brought a familiarity over the space, back to a time when this was normal. For Dazai to be theatrical, for Kunikida to get angry with it, for Yosano to watch with an amused yet unimpressed smirk, for Atsushi to be exasperated, for Ranpo to cunningly know all and refuse to tell. 

It had been a long while since the atmosphere of the Agency office had felt alive.

“But Kunikida!” Dazai whined, throwing one of his arms in the air only for it to come down so he could cover his eyes with his hand. 

“If it isn’t a psych ward, what kind of new residence did you get, Dazai?” Yosano asked, taking another long sip of her coffee. 

“A house,” Dazai sighed, “It needs work, which is again why I need all of your help.”

Atsushi looked from person to person, “I hate to burst your bubble here but there’s no way you could afford a house.”

Before anyone else could chime in to agree, Ranpo spoke up, “You know what, lets go see this thing.”

“What?” Kunikida asked, face turning red with annoyance and frustration, “It’s the beginning of the workday, we cannot abandon our responsibilities.”

“I’ve had enough of responsibilities for a while,” Yosano shrugged as she locked eyes with Dazai, “And I kind of want to see what it is he’s gotten himself into this time.”

“The President won’t be happy with this,” Atsushi shook his head but stood from his desk anyway.

“He knows,” Ranpo shrugged as he stood, “C’mon, Kunikida.”

“I will not-”

“Lead the way so I don’t get lost.”

—

Standing outside of the house Dazai had just purchased, it was painfully obvious he wasn’t the only one who had thrown in money for it. Either that or he was sitting on a huge bank account that his coworkers were unaware of.

It wasn’t huge or flashy, but it wasn’t totally run down or small. The location was further out of the city, a thirty minute commute to the Agency, closer to the countryside where the trees were bigger and the fields rolled, secluded and away from the fast pace of the city. It was a decent size, the outside painted an off white with a bright red door, a few chips missing from the wood and a wrap-around porch that had seen better days.

“Taa-daa!” Dazai motioned his hands towards the house as his coworkers clambered out of Kunikida’s car. 

“You seriously bought this?” Kunikida asked as he rounded his car to stand in front of the house. 

“You really can’t imagine me having bought a house?” Dazai asked, turning to look at Kunikida.

Inside his eyes was an emotion Kunikida couldn’t necessarily place, because no, he couldn’t see someone like Dazai willingly purchasing a house. The man didn’t take his own life seriously, had many futile attempts at taking his own life, couldn’t clean his dorm room for the life of him and Kunikida thought those were all good reasons for him to come to the conclusion. Yet Dazai’s posture held something in it, his relaxed shoulders, the glimmer of his bolo tie, his hands in his pockets; he looked proud.

Like he had crawled out from the depths of hell and made it- to this moment, to now, on a cloudy day in the middle of September to stand in front of a house he couldn’t afford and show his gaggle of coworkers who barely made it out of their last debacle alive. 

Instead of his usual gripes, Kunikida forced sincerity into his voice, “I can’t imagine you could afford one,” he corrected.

Dazai’s eyes softened a bit, dipping down at the edge in understanding before he looked away from Kunikida and back to the house. 

“Wow,” Yosano took in a breath, “I can’t believe you bought this.”

“Isn’t she a beauty?” Dazai’s eyes sparkled as he mapped the structure in front of them.

“Yeah, actually,” Atsushi commented as he came up to his coworkers, “With some work, this might be really nice.”

Yosano took a step forward and placed her hands on her hips, “You’re gonna live here by yourself? Or is there some secret lover we don’t know about?” 

Dazai shrugged and smirked, their eyes meeting for a brief moment, “Want a tour?”

There was an agreement that settled over them as everyone nodded and followed Dazai to the front door. The boards of the porch squeaked under everyone’s weight as Dazai fumbled with a key he pulled out of his pocket, a bright blue tag still on it. Dazai had gotten the keys to this place recently, they noticed, and chose to, in his own way, invite them to come see it. Even if it came with him asking them to help do work to the house, he still brought them over, and it was a win enough for his coworkers.

Dazai pushed the key inside and opened the door to reveal a hallway, he stepped inside and beckoned everyone to follow him. Once they piled inside, he shut the door and locked it.

“So this,” Dazai pulled open a closet to the left, “Is a coat storage place, I think, it’ll probably change,” he continued walking, “And this is the laundry room,” further down the hallway, he pulled open double doors to reveal a washer and dryer, along with a space for a hamper. 

“You’re going to need a new dryer,” Yosano commented as she ran a hand over the machine, “That big dent at the bottom can cause a fire.”

“Noted,” Dazai flashed her a smile as he moved on into a large open space, “This is the living room, I want a huge couch right here and an even bigger TV on the wall,” Dazai practically skipped to the right, motioning his hands around as he spoke before walking left into the kitchen, “This was the selling point.”

The kitchen was objectively large, a big stainless steel refrigerator was nestled between cabinets that had seen better days, along with a vintage stove and oven. In the middle of the kitchen was an island where papers sat, probably from when Dazai had closed on the house. Yosano looked down at them and noticed two signatures, one obviously Dazai’s but the other she couldn’t place, a beautiful but illegible cursive on the dotted line above Dazai’s. She filed the information away before leaning against the island.

“You don’t cook,” Yosano said with a raised eyebrow, “And this was the selling point?”

“Look at the view,” Dazai pointed. The kitchen was a U shape, a large sink sat in front of a bar that had sliding glass windows behind it, ones that showed the beautiful rolling hills of the countryside with Yokohama’s city skyline in the background. It was objectively beautiful.

“To stand in the kitchen and eat takeout?” She laughed at the thought and it earned a chuckle from Dazai and Ranpo.

“That bar is nice,” Kunikida commented as he walked. 

“I think so too,” Dazai smiled as he kept walking towards the stairs, “There’s an extra bedroom here and a bathroom,” he opened a door under the stairs and then shut it, “But up here is the real treat.”

“How are you going to survive with these stairs?” Ranpo commented with a sigh, “You barely like doing physical activity as it is.”

“Rude!” Dazai called from ahead, “That’s why I want a big couch, duh!”

“You’re talking like you’re made of money,” Atsushi said.

Yosano nudged his shoulder as they made it to the top of the stairs, “I’m thinking the same thing.”

Upstairs was a small nook with bookshelves built into the wall, a large circular window in the middle of the shelves with another stunning view. Dazai creaked open one of the doors to show off the master bathroom that had a connecting door into the master bedroom. 

“Isn’t it perfect?” Dazai asked, voice hushed as he stood in the middle of the bedroom and looked around.

The Agency looked around with him and could see all the places that needed work, the busted baseboards, the wood floors that creaked with each step, walls that had water stains on them. They wouldn't chalk it up to being 'perfect' but it obviously was bringing Dazai a sense of happiness. 

“It definitely needs work,” Kunikida replied as he looked around, his gaze landing on Dazai. Dazai wasn’t looking back at him, instead at the window in the bedroom, but he saw a sort of contentment in his field partner, something that stopped him from pointing out everything wrong with the place, “But… It’s nice.”

“Yeah,” Atsushi agreed as he crossed his arms over his chest, “It’s really nice, I can’t believe you bought this.”

“Careful, he’ll bait you into doing labor here if you keep going.” Ranpo warned but his voice was light and teasing, something his coworkers hadn’t heard in quite some time. 

“Bait? Oh no, I’m asking honestly,” Dazai turned to look at his coworkers, “I mean, I brought coffee this morning and everything!”

“One coffee doesn’t equate to redoing your house with you,” Yosano gave him an unimpressed look.

Dazai contemplated before a mischievous grin broke out across his face, “What about coffee every morning for a month?”

“Really?” Yosano rolled her eyes, “Bribing us with something we could easily get ourselves isn’t gonna work.”

“What will work, then?” Dazai asked as he began leading his coworkers down the stairs and towards the front door. 

“A million dollars.”

“You showing up to work on time and actually doing work for the rest of your life.”

“Probably a few bottles of nice wine.”

They watched as Dazai paused before locking the door behind them. He stood in front of the red door, hand still holding the knob and the other holding the key with an expression they once again hadn’t seen before. Their typically elusive coworker had willingly invited them into his life, his real life. Not his theatrics, not his jokes or carefully constructed plans, not a facade or persona of who Dazai Osamu was- this was the real thing, a version of himself that they hadn’t gotten the privilege to witness before, standing in front of a house he purchased with the intention of living in- the intention of creating a home in. 

Dazai locked the door and turned around to his coworkers looking like they’d been frozen in time.

“I can’t come up with a million dollars but I can work on getting the rest of your payments,” He joked as he walked towards Kunikida’s car and opened the passenger door.

He turned back to see his coworkers still standing in front of his newly purchased house, all of their expressions some form of shock. 

“I think you’ve convinced them,” Ranpo smirked and then everyone started walking back towards the car, “I’ll wait on my million bucks though.”

—

The first remodeling project was the kitchen cabinetry. 

It was outdated and falling apart, if Dazai hoped to keep anything in the kitchen he’d need to replace them. Atsushi had agreed to help when Dazai had asked after their lunch break and somehow, Kunikida had also been convinced, muttering things about making sure it was done right. Ranpo watched, perched behind his desk with a book laying on his chest, as the three left the office, conversation bustling in a way it used to, before everything. 

“I don’t trust you with a hammer,” Kunikida stated, one hand on his hip while the other placed safety goggles over his glasses, “How the hell did you even afford these?”

“I’m quite skilled with a hammer,” Dazai winked as he tried not to think about the memories of the Port Mafia basement flashing through his mind, instead focusing on the task at hand and how he could get his coworkers to do the brunt of the work, “And you don’t need to worry about that! Just worry about getting these other ones off the wall.”

“Those new cabinets are expensive,” Kunikida looked over at the large boxes sitting in the living room, “We have to make sure this is done right.”

“Atsushi, quick! Do something as a tiger!” Dazai joked as he put safety glasses over his own eyes and picked up a hammer.

“I already told you in the car,” Atsushi sighed, “I’m not using my ability to do this.”

“Ugh, you sound like someone else I know,” Dazai threw his head back.

Atsushi contemplated the statement for a moment before asking, “Who?”

“He’s pulling your leg, don’t be naive,” Kunikida huffed, “He doesn’t have friends.”

“I’m offended, in my own house!” Dazai crossed his arms, “What are you guys then?”

“Free labor, apparently,” Kunikida retorted as he picked up his own hammer. 

They began tearing down the cabinetry, Dazai doing just as much work as the other two, much to his coworkers surprise and delight. He seemed to get lost in his own mind for a while, not making many comments as they tore the place apart. 

It felt good to Kunikida, to do something with his bare hands, to be given a task he could actually follow through on and see to completion without worrying for his life. He was, however, worrying for his sanity seeing that he actually agreed to help Dazai and Atsushi tear these down, but it brought a sense of teamwork to them. It had been a while since he felt warmth in his chest that wasn’t due to his overheating phone laying on it so he wouldn’t miss a message or call about a potential threat.

Atsushi stared at the cabinets next to the fridge for a moment before he understood the best way to get them down would indeed be using his tiger strength. He was glad he came and helped, seeing two of his older coworkers who were no-doubt just as affected by the Decay of Angels work on something so… normal had his mind at a calm pace for once. 

“Don’t laugh at me for this,” was the only warning Atsushi gave before he half-transformed his arm and swiped at the cabinets by the fridge, taking most of them off with a single movement. He continued until he had cleared all of them off the wall, using the extra strength to pile them up onto a tarp they had laid out prior.

When he finished, he could hear stifled noises coming from beside him and he slowly looked over to see Dazai with a hand over his mouth and Kunikida pointedly looking downwards at his shoes. He knew Dazai wasn’t sick with a cough and Kunikida was definitely not that interesting in his own shoes; they were laughing at him. 

“I just said not to laugh at me,” Atsushi said, causing a chain reaction of laughter that tore through his coworkers.

Dazai held his chest as he braced himself on the countertop and Kunikida let a smile break out on his face as he pinched his eyes shut. The laughter was infectious and Atsushi found himself also laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. Using his ability for something like tearing down cabinets in an ex-Port-Mafia-Executive-turned-detective’s house was amusing.

“You-” Kunikida cut himself off with another round of laughter, “The tiger hand.”

Dazai giggled along with him, “That’s one way to use your gift.”

“Guys,” Atsushi whined but his voice was light as he laughed along with them.

“If money ever gets tight,” Dazai smiled, “You could open your own remodeling business.”

“Imagine that,” Kunikida chuckled, “Days at the Agency, nights using Beast Beneath the Moonlight to move people’s furniture.”

“Guys-”

A crumbling sound broke through the moment of peace as they all whipped around to see the cabinets on the tarp collapse onto each other, dust and wood fragments flying up into the air. The wood must’ve been old, really old.

They spent the next few hours installing the new cabinetry with banter and warm camaraderie and for a moment, they could forget everything bad that had ever led them to this point. Standing close to each other in Dazai’s new kitchen, balancing tools and wood, drilling screws into the wall with precision, simply enjoying the task at hand. 

When they finally locked up the house for the day, the sky had already turned dark, stars shining bright and illuminating the space. Out this far, there weren’t many streetlights and they were glad for the small bit of light. They decided to grab dinner together; Dazai agreed to pay as a payment for their help with only a few complaints.

The diner they wound up at was a bit run-down, further outside of the city but cozy all together. Atsushi squeezed into the booth first and Kunikida sat down next to him, Dazai taking his place across from them as he picked up the menu.

“I’m on a tight budget,” Dazai tossed the menu down just quick as he had picked it up, “Waters only, no soda.”

“After hours of labor for free in a house we don’t even get to live in? Daz-”

“Kidding!”

“Oh god,” Atsushi slumped down as he picked up a menu and began scanning it.

“You’re frustrating,” Kunikida grumbled as he picked up his own menu with shaking hands, “Be glad we’re in public.”

Dazai flashed him a smile before leaning his cheek against his hand, “Next we need to do the baseboards and flooring, then the fun stuff!”

“We?” Kunikida asked as he flicked his eyes up to meet Dazai’s, “Our help today wasn’t enough?”

“Yes! Didn’t you have so much fun?” Dazai smirked childishly. 

Atsushi butted in the fight, “What do you mean by ‘fun stuff’?”

“Painting.”

“That isn’t fun, it’s time consuming and redundant,” Kunikida rolled his eyes.

Before another argument could be made, Dazai’s phone buzzed in his pocket and against the smooth leather of the booth, both his coworkers could hear it. He pulled it out quickly and checked the caller ID.

“Duty calls, be right back.”

As Dazai stood to walk outside, Atsushi caught a glimpse of the screen. On it, there was a contact name he couldn’t quite place. It read: Slug, with an emoticon next to it, one of the ones Dazai would frequently use in their work group chat to drive everyone to insanity. For some reason, Atsushi felt like the name should come with some sort of realization, but his brain was coming up empty.

“Dazai has been taking a lot of phone calls recently,” Atsushi said quietly, “Have you noticed?”

“Of course I have, everyone has.” Kunikida said but it seemed like he didn’t care.

“Isn’t that weird?” Atsushi asked.

Kunikida paused and flicked his eyes over to meet Atsushi’s briefly, “It’s Dazai, he’s weird,” Kunikida looked back down to the manu, “He bought a house, an obvious midlife crisis or something, to live in by himself… don’t forget this is the guy we’ve fished out of the river on numerous occasions.”

“I guess you’re right.” Atsushi sighed heavily as he moved his gaze to where Dazai was talking animatedly on the phone outside of the restaurant.

Through the window, he could see how excited Dazai was as he spoke without stopping to whoever was on the other side of the call. It was so familiar yet distant, something Atsushi swore he had seen before, or something he could’ve imagined, he didn’t know. It was late, he was tired and hungry and he would be insane to try and pick apart Dazai’s life of all people.

Atsushi put his head back down into the menu and focused on what he could figure out, which was what he was going to devour in twenty minutes.

—

Yosano was Dazai’s next victim when it came to house renovations. 

She showed up to the house in her own car, having received a pathetic phone call from her coworker an hour earlier practically begging for help with redoing the baseboards. He sputtered something about needing precise hands, like those of a doctor, to help get them perfectly even and painted. She didn’t necessarily want to spend her Saturday doing housework, but something about the way Dazai asked had driven her to get in the car and drive over.

The front door had been redone and was now a matte black, a much nicer color against the off-white of the house in comparison to the bright red one. It swung open before she could even knock.

“Yosano!” Dazai exclaimed, dressed in his typical clothes with his coat missing, “I knew you’d come.”

“Knew or prayed and hoped and begged?” She crossed her arms over her chest as she walked inside the house.

Behind her, Dazai shut the heavy door and re-engaged a daunting security system, the clicking and beeping sounds drawing Yosano in. From the looks of it, the security system was extremely technologically advanced, impenetrable and absolutely something someone like Dazai would find priority in. 

“What, is this the goddamn Louvre?” Yosano raised an eyebrow as Dazai turned to face her.

“Safety first,” He winked, knowing she understood just why he had it. 

“How good is that thing?” She asked as she walked further into the house and admired all the new additions.

The kitchen cabinets had been redone, although she already knew that from how Kunikida had complained for a week afterward. The countertop in the kitchen had also been changed out, a new sink replaced the old one and an ornate light fixture sat above the island. Nothing in the living room had been updated but boxes of flooring sat in the middle of it.

“Five hundred thousand yen good,” Dazai replied as he followed her into the kitchen, “It has eyes all over the property and watch this,” he tapped on his phone and suddenly thick metal was coming down over all the windows, “Nice, right?”

The way Dazai was grinning at her was akin to a madman who had just revealed his biggest tricks, but Yosano saw it for what it was. Dazai, the skittish and untrusting animal he was, had just showed her how well his new security system worked, meaning he trusted that she wouldn’t use that knowledge against him.

As if she had the energy to, or even wanted to in the first place. She was sure there was more to it she’d never know, so it didn’t truly matter that she knew about it, the only question in Yosano’s mind was a very simple one.

“How in the world did you afford that?” 

Dazai tapped on his phone again and the protections receded, “I have my ways.”

“I can see that,” she huffed, “The kitchen looks great by the way.”

“You should’ve seen Atsushi use his ability to get those old cabinets off the wall.” Dazai replied smoothly, because of course he couldn’t just say ‘thank you’.

Yosano stepped further into the kitchen to open a few of the cabinets and look around.

“A wine rack?” She asked, her interest piqued immediately, “You don’t strike me as a wine guy, actually I know you aren’t a wine guy.”

Dazai shrugged, “Guests might be wine people,” he looked away briefly, “You’re a wine person.”

“That’s why I’m interested.” She replied.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your payment,” Dazai smirked. 

It didn’t take long for them to realize the flooring needed to get down before the baseboards could be redone. The boxes of flooring were daunting, piled high and most definitely not a one person job. With that known, it was also known that Yosano and Dazai were stubborn, and she’d already driven all the way out to his house, so she’d be damned if lack of help stopped them from getting the floors down.

By some miracle, or planning on Dazai’s part when the house was purchased, the only places that needed new flooring were the living room, entry hallway and spare bedroom. The floors upstairs were already a beautiful dark cherry wood and Dazai had wanted the bottom level of the house to match. 

They traded a few comments before the boxes of flooring were torn open and the process of actually getting it down began. An hour into the project that was too big for them, Yosano suggested alcohol. 

“I actually have something you’ll like,” Dazai stood and dusted off his pants as he stalked into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of wine from one of the new cabinets, “A dry red, it doesn’t exactly pair well with putting down flooring but it’s all I have.”

“A red zinfandel?” Yosano asked, eyes bulging out of her head at the sight of the bottle, ”Why do you have that?”

Dazai shrugged, “For times like this.”

He poured two glasses and handed one to Yosano before taking a sip of his own and immediately making a face. He couldn’t understand how his partner liked this stuff, but honestly, he didn’t care at this point; Yosano was right, alcohol would surely make this situation better. 

They drank and busied themselves with putting down the floor boards.

—

Kunikida grumbled as he drove through the dark city. Of course Yosano had called him nearing midnight on a Saturday and of course it had to do with Dazai’s newest purchase: his god forsaken house.

She sounded drunk and desperate and Kunikida was a man of strict ideals, so he had splashed water on his face and practically busted down Atsushi’s door to bring along with him. 

“I can’t believe we’ve been drug into this,” Kunikida muttered as they drove down the familiar street.

“Its Dazai,” Atsushi sighed tiredly from the passenger seat, “I can.”

He threw his car into park and shut it off before loudly slamming the door. They noticed the small updates, the new door, the new lighting on the porch, but none of it mattered as Kunikida brought his fist down on the door and began yelling to either open up or die.

The sound of a security system disengaging hit their ears and before they could process it, Dazai was standing in front of them and beckoning them inside.

“How the hell did you afford something like that?” Kunikida asked as he stepped inside, watching as Dazai re-engaged it.

“He has his ways, Doppo,” Yosano called from the living room, “Best not to question them.”

“I’ll question whatever I want if I’m doing unpaid labor here,” Kunikida grumbled but could feel heat rise to his cheeks at the obviously inebriated state of Yosano.

They bantered, tossed jokes through the air and Dazai and Yosano continued to drink as they all put in the effort to get the floor done. With two extra hands, it went by quickly and they were able to knock it all out. 

The atmosphere in the house was warm, something they had been feeling more of recently. Their lives would never be calm, they’d never be peaceful or predictable- but they could be whatever this was. Steady and propped up by each other, bleeding warmth and familiarity into each other like it was the only thing holding them together.

Maybe it was. The mental anguish of their pasts caught up to them when they wanted it the least, got in the way and muddied cases and plans, forced them to have genuine fights with each other at times. Yet here, under the dim light in Dazai’s house, they could laugh and let down their walls, even if it was just for a little while.

For now, they could enjoy each other’s presence and not think of the treachery that brought them together. It could be floorboards and wine, teasing and laughter.

For now, it was enough.

—

Fukuzawa heard something coming from the main office area he hadn’t heard for a long time: genuine banter.

He had been reserved, more than his employees since Fukuchi’s death. He hadn’t thought the Agency would really get back together and function as a harmonious unit after the individual chaos the Decay of Angels had caused to them- but they did. They came back together in spite of everything that had happened and it brought joy to his battered heart.

However, it didn’t come without consequence. He noticed when his employee’s minds had strayed too far into the darkness, saw all of the individual hardships they dealt with, even if they were never spoken aloud. He knew they were there, tried to remedy a lot of them the best he could, which was by staying in the background, letting them take on smaller cases that didn’t have to do with the world crashing and burning around them and simply letting them be.

Usually, the office carried a silent heaviness, the typical loud and childish banter hadn’t been heard in some time. Fukuzawa knew what it was because of, Ranpo had filled him in on the details of Dazai’s move and who he was moving with. Even though Dazai was elusive, Fukuzawa could recognize devotion when he saw it.

And Chuuya Nakahara throwing himself off of a plane and breaking into a top security prison while pretending to be a vampire was devotion at its highest degree. Nakahara being a Port Mafia Executive was the least of his worries when it came to their secret partnership, in all honesty having someone on the other side who wouldn’t hesitate to have Dazai’s back was more of a blessing than anything; it meant Nakahara would come to the Agency’s rescue as well.

It was apparent, with the way he had saved Yosano from the Hunting Dogs, how she recalled that night as if Nakahara was some form of divine intervention, stopping that blade from slicing her neck. Of course, he knew the Executive was still dangerous, but he doubted that danger ever actually extended to the Agency.

If anything, he hadn’t seen it happen even once. 

Now, he and Dazai had bought a house, and Dazai had roped in his other employees to help get it ready for his partner’s return. The thought itself had a small smile breaking out on Fukuzawa’s face from the fact he knew Dazai’s dorm had remained unused, even before he became aware of the nature of his partnership with Nakahara.

He strained his ear to hear what could possibly be happening in the office.

“-color is awful.” He heard Yosano say.

“What?” Dazai’s voice was easily recognizable, his petulant whining, “I really liked that one.”

“And you know you won’t choose it.” Ranpo’s voice sounded full of life.

Fukuzawa imagined Ranpo leaning back in his desk like he used to, feet propped up on top of it with a bag of candy in his hands. He’d spent most of his time in Fukuzawa’s office since the Agency got back together until Dazai finally went through with purchasing the house. Now, he was given something to deduce that didn’t come with bloodshed and-

He needed to witness what was happening.

It had been such a long time since something like this was normal.

Fukuzawa pushed himself up and straightened his clothes before silently walking towards the door. He pushed it open quietly and positioned himself in the hallway where he could see everyone but was still slightly hidden. 

“Absolutely not,” Kunikida grumbled, cheek on his palm as he stared intently at a rolling board Dazai had pinned paint swatches to, “That’s not a good green.”

“What do you mean?” Dazai played into the lighthearted part of his personality by scrubbing a hand down his face.

“Is there such thing as a ‘bad green’?” Yosano asked from her position, which was seated on top of Kunikida’s desk, “Seriously, what does that mean?”

“It’ll clash, obviously.” Ranpo waved a hand lazily in the air, seated exactly how Fukuzawa imagined him to have been.

“What about the red?” Atsushi asked, chin in both his hands as he spoke.

Dazai pulled his hand away to look back down at the paint swatches, “Oh no, I’m so sorry Atsushi I don’t even know why that was an option.”

Atsushi looked like he was about to implode.

“Just stick with the off-white,” Yosano offered, “It’s easy to decorate with that wall color.”

“I agree, the rest are flashy.” Kunikida nodded.

Dazai quirked an eyebrow, “Flashy? Coming from you?”

“I swear I’ll kill you right here!” Kunikida began to stand from his chair before Yosano’s gloved hand shot out to stop him.

“What he means is the rest won’t compliment the space,” She explained with a laugh, “Any more advice on this topic is gonna cost you another bottle of wine.”

“You can have it all, I need the advice obviously.” Dazai’s gaze didn’t leave the board as he spoke, “And I’ll throw in an extra if you make Kunikida admit he’s flashy.”

“Dazai…” Atsushi sighed as he sunk further into his chair.

Ranpo snorted, “I’d call him interesting, not flashy.”

“Interesting? Ranpo, I don’t want us to become enemies.” Kunikida pushed his glasses up on his nose.

“Oh yes, like a museum artifact that enjoys being dusted.” Dazai smirked and tore his gaze away to stare down Kunikida.

“What the hell does that even mean-!”

Fukuzawa saw it as an invitation to intervene, “Yosano is correct, eggshell is your best option.”

The entire office turned to look at him. Recently, they were so alert and on edge that nobody, not even him could sneak up on them like that, but it seemed they were so invested in the paint colors that they didn’t even think about the fact they could have been being watched. The thought, despite its reasoning, brought warmth to Fukuzawa’s chest.

They looked like a genuine family, trying to help each other out with something as mundane as paint colors.

—

Three hours and two trips to the hardware store later, they were standing in Dazai’s living room with buckets of paint and extended rollers, trying not to kill each other.

In the week between the flooring escapade and now, Dazai had moved quite a lot of boxes and things into the house. New curtains had been put up, the kitchen was fully stocked, a large and comfortable couch had been placed in the middle of the living room along with a brand new still in the box TV.

Ranpo was laying lazily on the couch with a book in his hands as he watched everyone do work, “Missed a spot, Atsushi.”

“This is why I wasn’t a painter,” Atsushi mumbled as he moved to cover up the spot he missed.

“I didn’t know that was something you had considered.” Yosano giggled from across the room where she was also painting.

“I was joking,” Atsushi sighed.

Kunikida went over the same spot again as he joined in, “You could help us, Ranpo.”

“Can’t,” Ranpo replied without looking up from his book, “Busy knowing things, besides, who else is going to let you guys know all the spots you missed?”

“A necessary job indeed!” Dazai chimed in, his eyes meeting Ranpo’s to share a moment of understanding.

“I need payment before continuing,” Yosano sighed as she put the finishing stroke on the wall she was in charge of. 

Kunikida looked over to her, “Do you think drinking and painting is a good idea?”

“Well aren’t you just a ray of sunshine.” She deadpanned, roller in hand with a splash of paint in her hair.

They all looked ridiculous, with the exception of Ranpo, who looked relaxed and at ease for the first time in months. Dazai was wearing clothes they’d never seen him in before, an old long sleeve shirt and baggy pants that were covered in splotches of paint, hair messy and frizzy. Yosano also opted for casual clothes, dressed in sweatpants and a tight black top with her hair pulled back, also covered in splotches of paint. Atsushi looked like he had dipped himself in the bucket, his hair had a giant glob of paint in it and Kunikida, somehow, looked like he always did.

The house was coming together, although it was devoid of any real decorations or furniture aside from the couch Ranpo was laying on. They supposed he would do the rest when the renovations were finished, which now, was only the paint job they were trying their best to do.

“Why didn’t you hire someone to do this?” Atsushi asked.

Dazai chuckled quietly, “It wasn’t in the budget, but I have you all.”

“Ridiculous,” Kunikida muttered as he continued painting the same spot.

Yosano put down the roller and placed both hands on her hips, “You mean to tell us you can somehow afford this house and all the repairs but couldn’t afford to hire someone to paint?”

“Why would I do that when I have such amazing coworkers who will help me!”

Dazai looked over to meet her eyes and she swore she could see something swimming through them that if she could just understand, would make all of this make sense. Dazai was an enigma at times but he had invited them here, not once, not twice but multiple times to help him through putting together a home. 

It wasn’t lost on any of them how close they felt to each other throughout the whole process, how the domestic tasks they had been doing started feeling like acts of friendship rather than coworker things. They were willingly here, and all jokes aside didn’t want anything in return, simply to help out the man who acted as a mastermind with the physical capabilities to back it up to defeat Fyodor. 

Friendship. The word stuck out to them; they’d always been close in one meaning of it or another, but it was forced. Because of their job, because of the situations they’d find themselves in. They had to know things about each other to make it work and yet now, standing around each other, arguing about paint colors and floorboards, it felt like a genuine group of friends.

“Is this a bad time to tell you that you’ve been painting the same spot for twenty minutes, Kunikida?” Ranpo snickered. 

“Not helping,” Kunikida muttered as he begrudgingly moved on to another spot, no doubt to paint over multiple times.

Dazai’s phone began ringing and he fumbled with the roller in his hands, which fell into the bucket of paint with a splash. The paint flung upwards and hit him right in the face as he bent down. 

The laughter didn’t have a moment to be held in as the space erupted with it. Yosano folded in half with the force of the emotions coursing through her, she clutched her side to quell it with no success. Kunikida tossed his head back with a full body laugh, bringing both arms down to his side in pure bliss. Atsushi cackled from the corner, accidentally brushing his roller through his hair in the process but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Ranpo had let the book in his hands fall onto his chest as he covered his face with his hands in an attempt to stop the laughter forcing its way out of his body.

“Oh my god,” Yosano got out through her fit of laughter, “To think- ha- to think we were being hunted two months ago.”

“I can’t believe it,” Kunikida agreed in laughter, “They thought we were terrorists!”

“How ridiculous,” Yosano laughed, “Look at us now, covered in paint like a bunch of idiots.”

“Some of us are more covered than others.” Ranpo said, muffled behind his hands.

“Hey!” Dazai whined, but his own genuine laughter filtered through the space as well, “You’re all supposed to be nice to me.”

“I just can’t believe this is our lives,” Yosano shook her head, “Here like nothing ever happened when we were all almost dead.”

“It’s an ironic thought,” Atsushi nodded as he failed to bite back his amusement, “I was stuck in London two months ago!”

“And you didn’t even learn a British accent,” Ranpo laughed again, “A waste of time, really.”

Dazai tried to reach his phone but it slid out of his hands from the paint that was covering them. Atsushi picked it up and handed it to him as it began buzzing again, the same contact name flashing across the screen from their night at the diner. This time, Dazai didn’t step outside to answer the call, he pressed the green accept button and held it up to his ear.

“I’m covered in paint, now’s not a good time.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, another round of laughter echoed through the room at the absurd situation. 

“Yeah I’m sure,” Dazai nodded as he sent a pout towards his coworkers, “See you soon.”

He ended the phone call and shoved his phone back into his pocket.

Conversations flowed easily after that, about vile things that couldn’t be spoken without the night sky casting a veil of privacy over and things that were lighthearted. 

—

“Just- ugh, stand back, I’m using Tainted.”

Dazai listened and stepped away from the mattress they were trying to carry inside. The bed was encased in a red glow as it floated up the stairs with ease, his partner following it up the stairs to where it would land in the bedroom.

“Can you do that with the TV too? I’m so tired!” Dazai whined as he collapsed onto the couch, keeping a trained eye on Chuuya as he re-emerged from the bedroom to walk down the stairs.

“Your lazy ass would want that.” He huffed but obliged, placing a single finger on the TV to lift it up onto the wall. He grabbed the mounting equipment and began hanging the oversized TV, something he, as well as his partner, had found to be an absolutely necessary purchase for their new home.

Dazai stared at Chuuya as he moved with ease, his lithe body moving around the space with determination. He was dressed in Dazai’s favorite outfit, which was his usual Mafia attire without his coat or vest, left in just his slacks, polished dress shoes, white button up with his harness on full display. The way it hugged Chuuya’s muscles was downright filthy. 

“Quit starin’.” Chuuya threw him a look over his shoulder before going back to work on the TV.

“Can you blame me?” Dazai said as he laid on his side to really look at Chuuya, “You’ve been gone for so long!”

“We spent two weeks in France before we came back to Japan and I had to leave, that wasn’t enough time for ya?” 

“No,” Dazai’s voice turned candidly honest in the safety of their home, “I feel like I can never have enough time with you.”

Chuuya’s hands stilled for a moment before he finished hanging the TV. He turned around slowly to meet his partner’s eyes, a sea of longing within them. Usually, he’d respond with another quip, something to continue their banter in a familiar and easy way, but the timing didn’t feel right.

“I wish I didn’t have to go,” Chuuya sighed as he came to sit by Dazai, “I won’t have to do another assignment like that for a while.”

“I’ll personally kill Mori if you do,” Dazai smirked.

“Right,” Chuuya said, “It was enough to pull out of the transfer deal though, now he’s worried about other things.”

“My knight in shining armor!”

Chuuya rolled his eyes, “You did a lot in that month though, it looks fuckin’ fantastic in here.”

“I had help,” Dazai smiled, memories of his coworkers flooding his mind. 

“I know,” Chuuya leaned down to fit himself in Dazai’s arms, “Can’t imagine your lazy ass doin’ this alone.”

“And here I was, missing you.” Dazai joked as he pulled Chuuya into his chest.

Their home had officially become theirs. If he could’ve recorded Chuuya’s reaction to walking in for the first time, he would’ve, and he would’ve rewatched it every night like a creep. They’d hung decorations, moved all of their stuff from Chuuya’s apartment and truly made the space theirs.

It wasn’t outrageous, even though with a paycheck like Chuuya’s and the money Dazai was sitting on from his time in the Mafia they definitely could have. They kept it simple but them, a plethora of throw blankets on the couch, art and trinkets from all their overseas missions hanging on the walls and scattered around the counters, their preferred coffee mugs sitting out by the coffee machine awaiting the morning light. 

After everything they’d been through together, after everything it took for them to get to this moment- safe and content, laying in each other’s arms, they’d finally done it.

“Do you know the red string of fate thing, Chuu?” Dazai asked.

“Yeah, I do.” Chuuya responded as he tangled his naked hand in Dazai’s hair in case his partner needed a bit of soothing. 

“What do you think ours is like?” 

Chuuya laughed lightly, “Probably tangled around a lot of shit.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Dazai laughed with him.

Between their meeting at fifteen, all the terrible things that had happened during their time as partners in the Mafia, Dazai’s defection and them being in different organizations now, that string of fate had still been wrapped around them. The thought had both of them unconsciously moving closer to each other, laying in each other’s arms like this hadn’t always been a luxury they could afford.

All the sacrifice seemed worth it now. They were bound to encounter more things that terrified them, shook them to their core and forced them to really look inside of themselves but for now, laying with each other was all they had, and all they needed. 

There were no demons here, no monsters that could get to them in this sanctuary. It wasn’t just the security system, it was the fact they had each other, in a new space that didn’t have any memories attached to it. Not all the memories in Chuuya’s apartment were bad, majority were actually things they could look back at with fondness, but still, the couch they cried on when Dazai left the Mafia still sat in there, the closet he hid in every time a Mafia member came over during his defection was still part of the wall, the bathroom where he tried to take his life multiple times still lived there.

Here, they could start over, not fully, but just enough.

“Hey, Chuuya, I think the TV is crooked.”

“I’ll strangle you with that goddamn red string, bastard.”

—

A week had passed and the Agency hadn’t been asked to go over to Dazai’s house again.

He wasn’t getting phone calls anymore and he looked better than he had in a long time, well rested and content. They knew after the paint was on the walls that there wasn’t much else to be done to the space aside from actually moving everything in and well, Dazai didn’t really have too many belongings. 

Dazai had left on time, saying his goodbyes and false promises to return to the office on time before the door shut behind him and he was gone. His coworkers were plastered on the window as soon as he left, trying to see if he was going back to the dorm or his new home. They watched as he called for a cab and gracefully shut himself in, meaning he wasn’t living in the dorms anymore and had fully moved into his new residence.

Ranpo was the only one not pressed up against the window as he watched with amusement, “He’s going home.”

“Well, obviously,” Kunikida straightened himself.

“I never got my payment for helping,” Yosano said as she turned back to the office, “I think we should go over there and demand our settlement.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Atsushi walked back over to his desk and plopped down.

“Intrude? The asshole practically manipulated us into remodeling his damn house!” Kunikida said.

“Which I still can’t believe he can afford,” Atsushi shook his head, eyes downcast as he remembered there would be no more late night laughter while putting together the house.

Yosano leaned against Kunikida’s desk as she spoke, “Wanna know something interesting?”

“Sure,” Kunikida nodded as he sat down at his desk, trying not to look at Yosano and how distracting she was.

“I saw two names on the closing document,” she informed them as she ran a hand through her hair.

“Two names?” Atsushi asked, “That’s almost as weird as the phone calls he was getting.”

“Maybe he has a sugar daddy or something,” Yosano shrugged, “I’m not here to judge, just thought it was weird.”

“Dazai’s always weird but… two signatures is really weird,” Kunikida looked up, “He better not have a secret wife he hasn’t told us about.”

“Maybe he does and that’s who was always calling him,” Atsushi thought out loud, “Does the name ‘slug’ ring a bell?”

“For her sake, I hope that isn’t what he calls this secret wife.” Yosano sighed.

“We should bring him a housewarming gift,” Ranpo smirked, “Maybe it’ll satisfy your desire to know about that second signature.”

“So you know and you aren’t telling us?” Kunikida’s frustrated voice boomed through the still office, “I hate when you do this!”

Ranpo met his eyes, “Go find out, treat it like a mission.”

—

An hour later, they were parked outside of Dazai’s house with a basket of things Yosano and Atsushi had picked out. Candles that weren’t too strongly scented, a wooden cutting board and a note that Kunikida had written, detailing his complaints about being used as free labor and getting nothing in return.

They felt a bit dumb, they were ability-users that had seen war up close, bringing a housewarming gift to their particularly treacherous coworker wasn’t exactly normal. However, what had been done was done and now they had to follow through on why they’d come here in the first place- to either find out who else had signed that closing deal or demand the answer.

It was the least they deserved, after replacing cabinets and putting down the floors and painting the entire lower floor, not to mention dealing with Dazai for years now. They exited the car quietly and made their way up to the front door, noting the changes as they approached.

None of them wanted to knock.

“Go ahead, this is your mission,” Ranpo said as he put his hands in his pockets, looking completely unfazed by what they were about to do.

“You know everything so it should be you.” Yosano whispered at him, eyes narrowing with suspicion as she spotted a motorcycle on the side of the house that she recognized but couldn’t place for the life of her.

“You get along with him well, you do it.” Kunikida nudged Yosano, who averted her cold glare off the bike and straight to his face. The color drained from Kunikida’s face under her harsh stare and he fought the urge to write ‘don’t fight against Yosano’ in his notebook.

Atsushi sighed and kept his voice low, “Well I’m not going to do it.”

“Actually, you’re the perfect candidate for it,” Kunikida looked at Atsushi, “He’s your mentor after all.”

“Well he’s your partner.” Atsushi fought back.

“Only on the field,” Kunikida reminded, as if working with Dazai was something he despised, “You’re his mentee all the time.”

“This fight is so annoying, knock, Atsushi.” Yosano butted in, still keeping her voice low.

“This was fun at first but now I’m bored,” Ranpo yawned and raised his arm to knock on the door.

Everyone aside from Ranpo went rigid. Realistically, there was no reason for them to be afraid or nervous and they knew it, but now they had invited themselves here and it felt like overstepping on a boundary that had never been explicitly stated. They knew the likes of Dazai, how private he was, this felt like a breach of trust.

They could hear the sound of the security system disengaging and the door finally swung open.

All the complaints Kunikida had died in his throat as he saw who was standing in front of them.

Instead of Dazai, their annoying coworker, with casual clothes on and a plate of takeout in his hands, they were greeted by Chuuya Nakahara. The most feared person within the Mafia, an Executive who didn’t even need to be ruthless to scare people into submission, a figure that even the laws of physics obeyed as he used gravity to his advantage.

Except he didn’t look like the Executive he knew. He had on a hoodie and sweatpants, hair tousled and unkept with a tired look on his face.

“Great.” Chuuya huffed.

“Well, you’ve all solved the case, congratulations!” Ranpo snickered, watching all the realization dawn on his oblivious coworkers.

Maybe it was unfair to call them oblivious; it had taken even Ranpo a while to pinpoint just what was between Dazai and Chuuya.

“Who is it?” A voice called from inside the house, one they recognized as Dazai’s.

“Your coworkers.” Chuuya said, both annoyed and amused as he opened the door wider. 

Chuuya stepped back into the space as Dazai approached, still dressed in his work clothes with a few layers missing. His sock-covered feet padded up to the door and a smile broke out across his face- one that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

His coworkers recognized the look instantly as one of secrecy. They had walked into something they weren’t supposed to see and now he needed to put up a front. But there was something else there, under the layers of a carefully crafted mask that had slid into place all too quickly- protectiveness. 

Over the house, over Chuuya, over whatever reason there was for a Port Mafia Executive to be comfortably walking around his house.

“Wow, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Dazai asked, voice something that was carefully constructed.

Ranpo didn’t care anymore, the cat was out of the bag enough and after everything they’d been through, this was the least of their worries, “They wanted to know who the other person was who signed the closing deal, and who had been blowing up your phone this past month.”

“I was not blowing up his phone, ‘Detective Asshole’!” Chuuya called from inside the house.

Atsushi wanted to be shocked by the information but something else was flooding his senses. His ability had its own drawbacks and unfortunately, one of them was how strongly he could smell things, and now, all he could smell was the overwhelmingly delicious scent of a warm, home-made meal that was no doubt being cooked in the kitchen he helped remodel. 

He heard the conversation that was happening faintly, but all he could imagine was the delicious food being whipped up inside.

“What are you cooking?” Atsushi asked without thinking, his cheeks burning a bright red after he realized he completely cut into Kunikida berating Dazai on leaving them out of all the details of his life.

Once again, genuine laughter erupted from his coworkers.

“Chuuya is cooking dinner,” Dazai regained his composure and a warm, genuine smile found itself on his face, “Come in.”