Archive of Our Own

Sitting on Dazai's desk was his newest torture device: a lottery machine. Sitting across from him was the usual victim, turning the crank like he rolled his eyes.

"Thirty-five... fourteen... aaaaand... nine!" No sooner than the final ball spun into its slot did Dazai pounce on his homemade scorecard.

"I said it before, but the randomisation thing is dumb as shit." Chuuya craned his neck, hoping for a peek at his impending doom. "The hell did you put on there anyway?"

As Dazai pulled the paper towards himself and away from prying eyes, it wobbled. The bastard had it laminated. "These are the terms of the bet to which you already agreed, remember? Anyways... together thirty-five, fourteen, and nine make— Oh. This'll be interesting for sure."

"Just tell me already!"

A sparkling eye leered over the scorecard. "Get comfortable with that feeling of anticipation because, for the rest of the week, Chuuya will ask my permission to go pee."

He scowled. "You cannot be serious."

"You said the same thing about the sailor suit," he said, leaning on one self-satisfied elbow, "but guess who's got a whole album of cosplay blackmail now?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You made the one with the lollipop your home screen wallpaper, I know. Heard it all before." Chuuya heaved himself from the chair and glared down at Dazai, no doubt grateful for the brief height advantage. "I don't wanna see your ugly mug for the rest of the day. I'm gonna go take a piss."

Dazai called after his back. "Fine, I'm feeling generous; you can have a freebie. Next time it'll be a polite request. Something like... 'oh, please, Dazai-sama, will you allow me access to the toilet since I am bursting with the need to'—"

Chuuya clocked him in the shoulder with his own table lamp, not quite on target, because Dazai ducked in time to protect his head.

The next morning Chuuya approached from behind. Usually he'd corner Dazai, shouting obscenities the moment the man wandered into his vertically challenged field of view, but today Dazai made it all the way down to the lobby without a single peep. What a funny picture the two executives made: Dazai, meandering, and his kicked dog traipsing five feet behind with hands stuffed in his pockets. Miraculously, their subordinates still managed to bow as they passed.

"Out with it." Dazai finally said, interrogating his stalker but facing the vending machine. "What do you want?"

"A coffee, dumbshit. Move." Quick as ever, Chuuya darted to catch the drink exactly as the machine dispensed it.

"Hey! Get your own!"

Whatever... He was already planning to steal Chuuya's credit card later. More importantly, Chuuya was just standing there, gripping the can like an enemy's throat.

Dazai's eye narrowed. "Ohhh, I see. If that's what you're thinking of, then you'd better say it soon."

"No one can read minds, Dazai, especially not you."

The bounce of his knee told him everything he needed to know, no mind-reading required.

"Hm, if you say so..." When he thumbed in the code for another coffee, Dazai brushed against Chuuya's shoulder. For some reason the contact sent his fidgeting into overdrive and he practically vibrated as he skittered out of reach. Dazai could hardly believe his luck— such a cute display of nervousness with barely any teasing— and tried not to stare. At least for now, he had to feign disinterest.

Coffee collected, Dazai tossed his head back for a long, decadent swig. "Mm, as black as death and delicious as always~ Aren't you going to have some? After all, you wanted it badly enough to steal it."

In a show of bravery— and a feat of coordination, too, considering his trembling hands— Chuuya popped open the tab.

At this hour, everyone from bookkeepers to body guards filtered in and out of the building. Several glanced towards the vending machine, saw the young executives in the usual stalemate, and hurried away. The front desk receptionist ducked behind her computer monitor when Dazai met her eyes.

Before him stood a similarly cagey Chuuya, his voice uncharacteristically hushed. "Listen, Dazai..."

"It's okay, you can tell me if you need to go potty."

Daringly, the receptionist peeked out to gape at the liquid spilling onto the floor. There went a perfectly good can of coffee, wrung to death in Chuuya's fist.

"Chibikko, you're making a mess. Before you make a bigger one, just ask nicely and I'll give you permission."

Apparently spurred on by the feeling of coffee splattering at his feet, far too much like an omen for his comfort, Chuuya swallowed the humiliation in one gulp. "The toilet, Dazai. I have to... Can I—" Finally he glanced up, defeated in the face of the stern look bearing down on him, and choked out the last of it. "Please?"

Dazai smiled gently, his secret weapon for relaxing a target before the killing blow. Then he turned away and headed for the elevator. Only after he heard Chuuya suck in a violent breath— the trademark of impending tantrums— did Dazai deign to deliver his verdict.

"Sure, sure, go ahead."

There was no need to look back. He could plainly hear Chuuya scramble for the restroom door.

In the center of a bloodied office space bustling with black-suited personnel, Chuuya addressed his underlings by name. "Hanamura, take Ishie and Okazaki with you to the director's office and empty the cabinets. Best to see their books before we burn them. Tenmyouji, you're on digital. Don't force your way into the system without my clearance. As usual, the rest of you will run final checks. Ask Sonozawa if you have more questions."

Though he would never admit it, Dazai was impressed Chuuya kept track of so many worthless grunts. Still more impressive was their eagerness to follow the orders of a man so obviously squirming under his coat. It was pulled closed across his chest, perhaps affording him the privacy to hold himself, but they could all see his little feet shuffling away.

"And Dazai." Chuuya addressed him with that same authoritative tone. "That thing we talked about earlier— shall I go ahead with it?"

Though their ciphers tended to be more refined, Soukoku were no strangers to coded language. Such obvious intentions, yet Dazai cocked his head to the side. "I don't recall. Refresh my memory, will you?"

"You know." Chuuya let it fall flat. It wasn't a suggestion, a probe to remember, but a statement of fact. At Dazai's blank stare, he grimaced and tried again. "The other day? In your office."

"Hmm... the other day... which day could that have been..."

"It's imperative that you remember soon."

In an unexpected display of empathy, Dazai warmed with secondhand embarrassment for the onlookers. As well-trained in obliviousness as they were, especially where mafia top brass were concerned, the brave ones were always listening in. Even foolhardy Chuuya was cautious enough to keep it in mind. Pity that Dazai much preferred the reckless act— the expletives and violent threats— and had become an expert at teasing them out.

Chuuya drew close enough to step on Dazai's feet. "Remember and decide." That edgy tone of voice indicated he was, in fact, close to breaking toes.

"How imperative is it, exactly?"

"Urgent."

"Ah, I see..." He paused, watching the flush spread from Chuuya's cheeks to his ears. By the time Dazai answered, he was bright red from the neck up, biting his tongue to reign in a ballistic temper. "How urgent?"

"Extremely."

"Well, if it's that important, we ought to discuss it in full, hm? Make sure I'm not missing anything? You know I would hate to be responsible for one of Chuuya's messes..."

Shaky hands yanked him down by the lapels. "Listen closely, you sadistic bag of bones, I'm only gonna say it once." With their new proximity, it became clear Chuuya's entire body was trembling. Even his whispers shivered, warm and insistent on the shell of his ear, so plainly adorable that Dazai fought to keep his composure.

"I really, really have to go, Dazai. Can I use the toilet?"

Once released Dazai stood upright and pantomimed consideration, complete with a thoughtful stroke of his chin, to buy himself time to calm down. All the while Chuuya ground his teeth and glared up at him, still too proud for puppy-dog eyes. In retaliation, Dazai delivered his reply at excessive volume.

"I hear you, Chibi, but do you have clearance for that?"

Several poorly trained mafiosis glanced in their direction just in time to see Chuuya hang his head. Through his teeth he hissed the cursed word. "Please?"

Dazai rewarded him with a soft smile and a pat on the head. "Sure, I'll sign off on it."

Despite the raw conviction in Chuuya's glare (which Dazai could only read as a promise to break his bones), the menace paled as he rushed out of the room. Seconds later, Hanamura, Ishie, and Okazaki returned with armfuls of file folders.

"Uh... Executive Dazai-san?" A brave one asked.

"Just leave them over there." Dazai shrugged, trying not to laugh as he imagined the turn of the rumour mill. "If you need further instructions, try the men's room."

On one of the rare nights he was actually sleeping, Dazai woke to a sudden text message. He rolled over and, while fluffing his pillow, again a notification chimed. Though fuzzy and faded, a pleasant dream still tugged at his mind... He tried to settle into it until the buzzing and binging from his nightstand became so incessant it overpowered all thought.

"At this hour..." Dazai surrendered to his phone, finding twenty-one consecutive texts from Chuuya, the last of which read in call caps "CALL ME!!!" Without checking the others, he obliged. "What do you wa—"

"You fucking idiot!" Ah, so the screaming was starting early that day. The echoes on Chuuya's end jabbed at his brain from the inside. "This dumb bet is gonna cost me my fucking life!"

"Can you, like..." He massaged the bridge of his nose. "...I don't know. Start from the beginning?"

"No, actually, I can't. I won't. I've fucking had it with doing every-fucking-thing you fucking say."

"Listen. Put some pennies in the swear jar and calm down or I'll hang up." As Chuuya gulped down steadying breaths, Dazai ran a mental list of his recent crimes. What could be so urgent? After all, Chuuya's credit card bill wouldn't arrive for another two weeks. "Good boy. Now, please enlighten me. You're screaming at me at 2 a.m. because... why?"

"Because. I—" He paused and rustled around, the reluctance so clear in his voice that Dazai could practically see him pouting. "I have to pee."

Suddenly the phone call became the pleasant dream. He fought the praise rising in his throat, stamped down the joy of learning Chuuya obeyed his self-indulgent rules without supervision, and forced his tone to the lighter side of sarcasm.

"Wow, someone's committed. I assumed that, by now, you'd have gotten bored and cheated your way out."

"That's what you would do, Dazai. Some of us have things called 'honour' and 'principles.'"

"Have you wet yourself for the sake of your honour and principles?"

"No!" He blushed so indignantly it warmed Dazai's face through the phone. "But at this rate... Ugh, can I go or not?"

"Hmm..." He laid back in his futon, fiddling with a stray thread on the quilt. "How badly do you have to go?"

"You're kidding." At Dazai's continued silence, Chuuya groaned. "I dunno, like, very bad. Okay? Excruciatingly bad."

"I see, I see. If you're already at that point, then what are you doing?"

"... Excuse me?"

"Tell me, Chuuya, are you squeezing your legs together? Maybe bouncing on your toes? Or are you trying to hold it inside by sheer force of will?"

"I'm, um— I'm pacing." On closer inspection, muffled, methodical footsteps sounded beneath his voice. "It helps take my mind off it, especially when I— well— you know!"

"Hm? When you what?"

"When I... I have to pee so bad that I can't think of anything else." Chuuya's heavy breathing left Dazai unspeakably jealous of a telephone receiver. "... And you are not helping! Fuck, how long is this going to take?"

How quickly he switched back to shouting in people's ears. Dazai fumbled for the reigns of the conversation, determined to steer them back to that meek and vulnerable place one more time.

"Poor thing, you're that desperate?"

"Yes I'm desperate— what is this, are we having phone sex or something? Quit jerking off and let me go!"

"Don't have a conniption, Chibikko, I'll let you go..." He grinned. "You only have to beg."

"I will kill you. Flay you alive, you worthless motherfucker!" Then the footsteps abruptly stopped and, between hitched breaths— "Fuck fuck fuck, shit, Dazai please—!"

"Sounds like it's coming out." Luckily the laughter he couldn't hold back was drowned in Chuuya's frenzied cursing. Dazai's giddiness had officially bubbled over, marking the end of his fun lest he make a fool of himself. "Okay, okay, fine, go ahead. By the way—"

The line went dead before Dazai could ask where he had called from. Surely someplace private, because where else would Chuuya feel comfortable whining so loudly? In the end it was a saving grace. The image of his partner pacing on the ceiling of his own bathroom, full to bursting and begging to use a toilet less than a meter away... It would have been too much to bear.

"Oh, there you are."

What a warm greeting to the elevator carriage: Chuuya's narrowed eyes.

"I swear I searched all five towers looking for you."

"Did you?" Dazai didn't look up from the brochure in his hands. "Hey, Chuuya, wanna go here together? Last time when we went for teppanyaki, you promised me dinner and this new shabu-shabu specialty course looks delicious."

"Shabu-shabu shut up and listen." Chuuya snatched the brochure, crumpled the page of restaurant advertisements, and glared up at Dazai. "Not a peep from you, understood? You're so lucky we're alone because I need to talk with you about—"

He startled as the doors slid open to welcome a cluster of people, each of whom bowed to the executives on their way inside. There was no excuse for Chuuya's slack-jawed expression, nor his intoxicating warmth as he crowded closer to Dazai. Had he forgotten the mafia employed thousands? And more importantly, did he realise that he was fidgeting with Dazai's coat and not his own?

As the carriage resumed its descent, Dazai found a distraction in carefully uncrumpling his brochure. "Chuuya was saying something."

"Huh? When?" For a certifiable idiot, he was surprisingly bad at playing dumb. At least he had the sense to yank his hand away from Dazai's pocket and shove it into his own.

"Just now, before the intrusion. It sounded important."

In this oppressive atmosphere, mafiosis of a lower rank wouldn't dare interrupt a conversation between their superiors, despite the insult that likened them to a formless inconvenience. Unfortunately for Chuuya, Dazai's attention nevertheless drew them into the conversation. They'd hang onto his next words whether they liked it or not.

The man in the spotlight took off his hat and put it back on again, deciding somewhere in between that condescension was his best option. "Yeah, dumbass, you misheard. If I said anything, I definitely wasn't talking to you."

"No, no, I remember it very clearly. After all, you don't use that word with just anyone. It even sounds peculiar in your voice." He cleared his throat and made a mocking impression. "'Ooh, Dazai, please'—"

"If you value your vital organs you'll shut the fuck up, thank you."

An awkward mood hung so thick it permeated the skin, tempered only by the elevator occupants' silent countdown to their destination. Dazai imagined he escaped a beating by chance, lucky that it was too cramped to wind up a punch. Not to mention Chuuya's other preoccupation, made obvious by the distinct rustle of fabric as he swished his thighs back and forth.

The elevator chimed to signal its stop, seconds later releasing a terrified stampede. Only Soukoku remained. When the door slid shut once more, Dazai lost his breath as Chuuya slammed him into it, ears ringing from the metallic thud, brochure fluttering to the floor.

"You are on the thinnest fucking ice."

"So are you, it seems."

Even as he choked Dazai with his own necktie, Chuuya locked his knees and squirmed from side to side, grinding across Dazai's lap in unfairly tantalising drags.

"How long were you looking for me, anyways? I hope my little dog has been rehearsing his speech in the meantime."

As though ordering a useless cretin to drop dead, Chuuya glared right into Dazai's unflinching face and said, "Let me use the toilet."

"My, my, are you asking me or are you telling me?" Catlike, Dazai weaponised his smile, startling Chuuya just enough to gain an inch on his collar. "I distinctly recall that only one of these fits our purposes."

"I'm telling you, bastard! You'll let me!"

Someone ought to applaud his commitment to the threatening act: spirited and unconvincing in equal measure.

Seemingly all at once, the elevator slowed, the bell chimed, and the two of them tumbled backwards through the door. The hallway was thankfully empty. Without spectators, Dazai had no reservations about grabbing Chuuya by the waist, pinning him on his lap with no hope of scrambling away. Under his thumbs he felt the taut stretch of an overfull bladder.

The conversation continued as if they weren't tangled up on corporate linoleum. "Of course I'll let you— once you've said the magic word, that is."

"I—" He swallowed hard. "Dazai— Uh—" Short-circuiting already? Usually it took a lot more playing around to get Chuuya panting with his mouth open. Frantic eyes darted around Dazai's face as if that's where he'd misplaced his coherence. Somewhere along the lines he'd lost his hat.

Dazai pressed inwards with his thumbs and delighted at the ensuing eruption: keening, clenching, an honest to God shriek, and impetuous little feet railing against the floor in a kicking frenzy.

"Stop, stop, stop!"

"Ahaha, I see."

"Don't push on it! I really— I have to—"

"Is Chuuya still trying to order me around?" For both of their sakes, Dazai prayed for a quick surrender. Quicker, at least, than the speed at which they were hurtling towards a workplace conduct violation. Already entertaining wicked thoughts like, if I made him do it right here, right now...? It was all up to Chuuya. Perhaps it was reckless to rely on the one dry humping his partner to maintain his last modicum of control, but Dazai had cast aside all inhibition. He couldn't stop himself if he tried.

"I'm asking, I'm asking." Two steps from total collapse, Chuuya doubled over to bury his face in Dazai's neck. The tip of his nose burned like a hot iron, his pleading so humid that the temperature skyrocketed.

"Please, please. Don't wanna pee here—" a sob broke his voice— "Dazai..."

No sooner than he opened his hands did Chuuya vault down the hallway. Sounded like he was running for his life. Meanwhile Dazai laid there in the afterglow, dizzy and clammy inside his blazer, as the elevator tried in vain to close around his ankles.

"Mm, the flavour is really rich. What do you think so far?"

"Ehh, it looked better in the photo."

"You know the stuff in advertisements isn't even edible."

"All the more reason to eat it! If I drop dead after one sip of imposter soup, then so be it."

Soukoku sat on opposite sides of a low table, meandering through dinner. Steam wafted from the bubbling pot at the center where a generous helping of vegetables simmered in savoury stock.

"Pardon the intrusion." Bowing as she entered, the hostess delivered two more plates of raw beef. Chuuya expressed his gratitude between sips of sake, waiting until she left to shuffle from his cross-legged position to rock back on his heels.

Cooking, in Dazai's opinion, was never worth it. More than three seconds of effort and he just wouldn't eat. Luckily these paper thin slices of steak cooked in exactly that time and, as a bonus, he got to watch Chuuya bite his lip as he splashed them through the hotpot.

"Which do you prefer: shabu-shabu or yakiniku?"

"Both are delicious when someone else is paying."

"You're being needlessly difficult. Imagine you have infinite money, if you must."

"That's not hypothetical, Chuuya, I am very good at my job."

"Ha, ha, ha, Mr. Mafia Black is bragging again." His chopsticks made it halfway to his rice bowl before he put them down, wiggled in his seat, and picked them up again. "Are you allergic to light conversation?"

"Let me know when you want to go potty."

Choking on a mouthful of beef momentarily delayed his outburst. "Hah?! What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about how obvious it is that Chuuya needs to pee, yet for some reason he's ignoring it." Dazai casually poured another drink into each of their cups. "As if that will make it go away."

Chuuya immediately downed his drink like a point already proven, seemingly unaware that his flustered scowling undermined him. "You're imagining things."

"You're in denial."

He punctuated the conversation with a loud chomp. No denying that the carrots looked scrumptious, Dazai followed his lead. After all, Chuuya only hurt himself by taking the stubborn approach, a situation where ignoring the truth was essentially the decision to wet himself. And if that decision was rooted in adorably misguided spite? No matter how you stacked it, this week's wager had Dazai in the lead, 5 to 0.

"If I had to, then I'd pick yakiniku because I like the sweet aftertaste. That said..." Water dripped from the sopping cabbage leaf skewered on his chopstick. "Shabu-shabu has good qualities as well."

Although nothing splashed in his direction, he recoiled from the hotpot as if burned. "N-next time let's eat something cold."

"Yes, I know Chibi's body temperature runs really high. Even higher when he's embarrassed."

Two could play at the deflection game. Chuuya's hasty out manifested as a precarious tower of green onion, righted with gravity manipulation when it wobbled. "Remember last summer when we found that dead guy in a refrigerator?"

"Of course! How could I forget the exsanguinated Zaru Soba-san?"

"I still can't figure out why they dumped a pre-packaged lunch with the body. Did anyone ever ask?"

"No need to follow-up on common sense. Clearly they left it in case he got hungry."

Grinning broke into hearty laughter, cut short in seconds. One chopstick clattered onto the table, the other onto the floor, as Chuuya shoved both hands into his lap. Now more than ever Dazai was grateful for his own comedic genius, for once not wasted on a simpleton's humour.

"Fuck, Dazai, um... C-can I use the toilet, please?"

"Hm... I'll think about it. Let me finish my meal and then we can discuss it in full."

"Discuss. Discuss what?" He sucked a long breath through his teeth, trying to calm the rapid rise and fall of his chest. "It's a simple yes or no question."

"It's rather complicated, actually."

"Look, I already said please, so what more do you want!? A gymnastics routine?"

Intrigued, Dazai set down his drink. "Actually—"

"Never mind, forget it, poor choice of words." He bounced on his heels, no doubt clenching his thighs together, squirming so intensely it could be felt through the floor. "Please, Dazai, just say yes."

"What's the rush Chibikko? If five minutes ago you didn't have the urge at all, there's no way it could build up so quickly. Let's give it five more."

"But I can't wait that long!"

"Why not? Don't tell me you're already peeing yourself." As if nothing was amiss, Dazai swirled his chopsticks through the hotpot, pleased by Chuuya's resulting shiver.

"Bullshit! It's not like that, it's just—"

"You urgently need me to say yes because, with every passing second, the desperation peaks a little more?" Once again, Dazai gently poured sake into Chuuya's cup— "Rising higher, and higher, and higher, until—" It flowed over the rim and down the sides, quickly spreading in Chuuya's direction.

He flinched away from the dripping table. "Shut up, shut up!"

"Admit you're bursting and I'll consider it."

"Goddamnit, Dazai, you're such such a— ah... ahhh nooo no no no, fuck, it's—!" Never in his life had Dazai been struck down by a sound alone, yet he was nearly toppled by Chuuya's delicious moaning. "It's leaking out! Please!"

"... Pardon the intrusion." The hostess stood with one foot in the doorway. "We have your bill ready."

"Thank you kindly." Dazai fished for his wallet to avoid eye contact. Mindful of potential property damage fees, he paid with Chuuya's card. "May we have directions to your nearest toilet, please?"

"Down the hall and to the..." Midsentence, Chuuya sprinted passed her. "... Left... Um, excuse me."

They bowed to each other, embarrassingly cognisant of Chuuya's thunderous footfalls, and she backed her way out.

Later on, Dazai tossed his coat into the backseat, suspicious of Chuuya sliding into the driver's side while still thoroughly wrapped in his.

"Did you make it?"

"Yes, I made it. No thanks to you, you rotten piece of shit."

"At least be accurate in your insults! You're the stinky one here, Mr. 'Leaking Out.'"

Flustered, Chuuya sped through a red light, no doubt eager to dump Dazai at home and take a hot bath. He could easily believe Chuuya ran to the toilet in record time, but there was no way to estimate the ratio of pee in the bowl to the pee in his pants.

Chuuya sighed. "You know we can never go back there, right."

"Eh, it's no loss. The food wasn't that great anyway."

Like all good stories, this one ends where it began: in Dazai's office with the lottery machine. Chuuya warily turned the crank while Dazai looked on, amused.

"Ooh, look at that: five! You're pretty lucky, considering this thing goes all the way to sixty."

"You say that like I wasn't just suffering through an unforgiving roll of fifty-seven." Chuuya cast a withered glance at the timer on Dazai's desk.

"Splitting hairs again, are you? A culmulative thirty-three and twenty-four don't count."

"I fucking hate this game."

"Fair enough. But if you last another four minutes and thirty-eight seconds, you'll win. Isn't that reason enough to keep trying?"

If anything Dazai was unsure he could make it, stretched thin with desire from watching Chuuya blush and fidget for a whole hour. What a wonderful show he made, grinding on the edge of his seat, both hands jammed between his legs.

"No one said anything about giving up." And there was Chuuya's wicked grin, teeth bared exactly the way Dazai adored. As troublesome as it was, he forgave Chuuya for jumping headfirst into conflict whenever he glimpsed that feral expression. So confident on the battlefield, so diligent in his career. Redirecting such raw energy required massive talent on Dazai's part, turning resolve into begging, pleading...

"You're staring at me."

"Am I?" They smiled at each other. Apparently the pride in catching Dazai spaced-out overcame the embarrassment of being ogled. "I was just contemplating how lenient I've been this past week."

"Let's see..." He spoke as if counting on the fingers he didn't dare pry from his crotch. "You taunted me, gaslighted me, humiliated me in public and in private and, on top of all that, you're clearly getting off on my distress. You need a new dictionary if that's your idea of leniency."

"Two minutes left, now. Winner defines leniency."

"Yeah, define my fist in your mouth."

"Wah~ Chuuya should be more grateful." He pouted and stretched across his desk like a cat in a sunbeam. "Haven't you noticed that I always let you go? So many chances to watch you lose it in front of everyone, but even I haven't seen it yet. Not even once."

"Sounds like you're lamenting lost opportunities, not encouraging me to look on the bright side."

"It sounds like I deserve a reward for my outstanding self-restraint."

"Trust me, bastard," he promised through grit teeth, "you'll be rewarded for this."

"Excuse me, if anyone is to blame for this situation, it's the stupid dog who agrees to my terms and only complains after he's lost the bet. In fact, you could've avoided this round of the lottery if you hadn't—"

"You're full of shit!" Chuuya launched to his feet and banged both fists on the desk, startling Dazai upright. The pen holder clattered to the floor in the assault. "I wouldn't have dared you to put all those fries in your mouth if I knew you could unhinge your jaw—"

"—That's an exaggeration, I never—"

"—By the handful like a wild animal—"

"—Knives and forks are only for—"

"—Disgusting! Supremely disgusting!"

A blaring ring cut through their shouting match and their staring contest, directing all attention to the clock run down to zero.

The first to turn back, smiling triumphantly in spite of his objective loss, was Dazai. "Congratulations, Chuuya. You survived all three rounds of the game and, as promised, you may now ask permission to relieve yourself."

"About damn time." He sighed, apparently trapped with his head bowed and legs crossed, moving only to adjust the pressure on his bladder. Dazai was keenly aware of his direct line of sight to Chuuya's crotch.

"... Don't you have somewhere you'd like to go?"

He drew resolve from the edge of the desk, tight enough to splinter the wood. "Shut up. I'm gathering my strength."

"Look, I won't make you beg again. You don't even have to ask. Just come over here a second."

He waddled in front of Dazai, towards the beckoning hand of a man feeling disproportionately regal in comparison to his office chair. Up close tension sparked like a live wire. He was warmed by Chuuya's panting breath, captivated by the knock of his knees, and watching him grind into the heel of his palm welled something in Dazai's core that he swallowed hard to contain.

"Poor thing... You won't be able to hold on much longer."

He flinched at the sudden caress on his arm. "Don't—"

"Shh, shh, it's alright. You have my permission to let it out."

"Then goodbye." Eyebrows furrowed, no doubt calculating the sprinting distance to the restroom at the end of the hall, Chuuya startled under Dazai's tightened grip.

"Ah, ah, ah," he tutted. "Not so fast. You didn't hear anything about a toilet, did you?"

In seconds he more closely resembled a caged animal than a person, shaking his head in disbelief. "No... no. Please, Dazai, you cannot be serious."

"Kneel."

Whether he dropped to his knees in obedience or because his legs simply gave out, it made no difference. As reward for allowing his hat to be plucked off, Dazai pet Chuuya's hair, delighted by the feverish blush he'd taken on. Stroking the soft spot behind his ear made him squirm even more.

"Such a well-behaved pet. We've been impatient for the real fun, haven't we?"

"Fuck off!" Amazing how he strained to spit curses even as his shoulders shook so pitifully, gasping at the first surge of wetness in his pants.

"There's no stopping it once it's begun. I can hear you, Chuuya." The hissing grew ever louder, swiftly joined by the humiliating patter of urine on hardwood. "Let me see, puppy. Move your hands."

As the stain spread across his lap, Chuuya clamped down on his crotch, shielding the origin of his shame in one last act of rebellion. In reality it did nothing to stymie the flow. Pee still gushed in rivulets down his thighs, splattering into the growing puddle at his knees. He moaned softly, eyelashes fluttering. In the end bliss took precedence over shame, it seemed, further evidenced by the little circles Chuuya rubbed between his legs. After holding back for so long, Dazai couldn't blame him for forgetting where he was. He felt as if he'd stumbled into an alternate reality himself.

"Ahaha, look at that. Chuuya's enjoying himself so much he's drooling."

Whatever defense he had lost itself in a shuddering breath, his downcast eyes shiny with tears. Apparently they were both staring at the flood in a mixture of awe and disbelief: captivated by the inredible volume of urine and the submission required to release it at Dazai's feet. If such a mess went uncleaned the floor would surely warp— though a memento didn't sound half bad. After all, who could deny him the reminder of such a lovely sight? Chuuya, flushed pink with his lips parted, sighing in ecstasy as he wet himself, stubbornly ruining his gloves in the process.

All too soon the spell was broken. The torrent became a trickle, then tempered off entirely. Dazai watched stray trails of wetness creep down his pantlegs as Chuuya struggled to his feet, inadvertantly splashing in his puddle. Still he adamantly covered himself, avoiding Dazai's gaze.

To act shy after such an outrageous display... "Now, now. Show me what you did."

"But—" Protest evaporated as Dazai abruptly tugged his wrist aside. Chuuya seemed to fluster not at the sudden movement but his squelching glove, warm and slick under Dazai's thumb.

From the waist down he was completely soaked. His slacks clung to his skin at odd angles, still dripping at the hems. "Incredible... Turn around?" Impatient, he grabbed Chuuya by the waist and manoeuvred him personally. The backside was even better— drenched all the way through. It would be criminal to let go without fondling him a little.

"Chuuya made such a mess... Imagine that, I thought you were housebroken."

"A-absolute fucking revisionism. Don't act like this isn't y— ah— your fault." Each squeeze elicited an appropriately cute noise, but groping his ass and thighs was apparently not an off-button for the snark. Properly shutting him up would likely require a kiss. Or a gag, if he was feeling generous.

"What about all your near-misses this week? You always waited until you were bursting to seek me out, even though no one said to hold it until the last second."

Without a defense, he could only sniffle. Dazai wiped pee on Chuuya's back, then reached up to thumb away his tears.

"Logically that leads to only a couple of conclusions: either Chuuya enjoys the feeling... or he's really, really dumb."

"Hey!"

"Or maybe he's been hoping aaaall along that he'd be forced to pee his pants. Very curious."

Dazai herded him into a hug, careful to rest his face on a dry portion of Chuuya's shirt, and caressed the small of his back. Meanwhile the wet portions were quickly cooling off, destined to become itchy, heavy, and altogether hellish to wear. Only after Chuuya agreed to the next bargain would Dazai release him to get cleaned up.

"Honestly, I've been thinking about it a lot— and this just confirms my suspicions. You can't be trusted to go by yourself anymore." Was he nodding assurances to himself or nuzzling against Chuuya's exhausted bladder? Hard to say. "We'll get some puppy training pads while you learn to control yourself."

"That is so obviously counterproductive." Chuuya's laughter tickled Dazai's face. "You might as well just ask me to do it."

"Aww~ who's a good dog? Who's a good dog!"

Chuuya sat on a little white square with his back to the corner. His belt was unbuckled and his fly unzipped but, as far as disrobing was concerned, that seemed to be all he managed before he started to pee.

"You are, you are! Yes, you are!"

A very good dog indeed for withstanding that high-pitched tone, at once sugary and sarcastic. Despite resenting baby talk, he failed to argue against its natural inclusion in such an arrangement. If it was so humiliating to be cooed at, he should have drawn a line at the bell on his collar.

As for official business? Dazai had him spread his legs, lift his feet, and keep those pesky hands tucked under his knees, opening him up for a perfect view of the torrential pee spurting onto the training pad. What didn't make it straight out blossomed across his crotch, glistening wet, and crept around the back.

"For such a tiny dog, my Chuuya makes quite a lot of pee." Dazai rubbed under his chin, an indulgence he accepted with half-lidded eyes. "I'm glad we managed to get it in the right place this time."

As his stream slowed, Chuuya found his voice, albeit breathy and small, and certainly not suited for the swear words he loved to levy in Dazai's direction. "... You're being stupid on purpose."

"And you made yourself desperate on purpose, just so you could wet yourself exactly where and when I said to, just because I thought it'd be cute. Now..." Two fingers hooked themselves in Chuuya's collar, forcing contact with a bright and glimmering eye. "What do doggies say?"