Work Text:
“Dazai—”
“Aww… is my work wife mad again? So temperamental.”
“Dazai, I swear to God—”
“Kunikida-kun is so scary!” Dazai makes sure to sing-song the last part as he drapes his arms around the blond’s shoulders and snuggles up to the back of his neck. He ignores the fact that Kunikida’s attention is still divided between chiding him and studying the case file. In truth, Dazai is giving adequate attention of his own. Kunikida wouldn’t let him do this if he didn’t at least work a little. He rests his chin on Kunikida’s shoulder and skims the text with a low hum. “An ability user committing petty theft, hmm?”
“Yes. At a string of shopping malls. Always between four and six in the afternoon. Yet no one has ever seen them.”
Dazai smiles and drops a little lower, leaning his head against Kunikida’s neck. “Sounds boring.”
“At least it’s not a dangerous case. Not from what I can tell.”
“No risk of dying makes it boring. Although death in any case would be horribly painful.” Sighing, he continues, “If only I could find a beautiful woman to die with…”
“I already said I’d die with you in a pinch,” Kunikida answers, closing the file and tossing it on his desk. “But I already plan to make sure that’s never necessary.”
“Kunikida-kun is so romantic.” Dazai smiles against the back of his shoulder. he can smell the faint fragrance of Kunikida’s cologne, floral and woodsy, that he wears on occasion. Dazai suspects it’s because he told Kunikida he enjoys the smell of it. He lingers a little while longer, still smiling, till waiting for Kunikida to resume his study of the file, but instead, he just sits. “Kunikida-kun.”
“Hmm?”
“Are you okay?
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?’
“I can see your mind working. You’re thinking really hard about something,” Dazai notes. “I can tell. Your shoulders feel so stiff.” He sits up. “Let me rub them a little for you.”
Kunikida swats his hands away and rises. “I need a break. It’s… not you.” Kunikida turns and pushes his glasses up without further explanation, and Dazai is left sitting beside Kunikida’s empty chair, still recalling how Kunikida’s cologne smells.
They’re in love. Some days, that’s still hard to believe.
Yet Dazai is increasingly aware, especially given how happy Atsushi continues to be with Chuuya, that his way of showing love doesn’t exactly match up. Atsushi always shares the little things he and Chuuya wind up doing together on their outings, frequent and normal enough. Restaurants and ice cream parlors, impromptu walks after it rains, a trip to a summer festival to see fireworks, homecooked meals… that last one, he’s familiar with. But beyond that and cuddling, he and Kunikida really don’t do anything.
“He bought me a hat,” Atsushi murmurs one day, sending a wistful smile at the window while Kenji and Naomi both light up with interest. “And I… don’t really know how to repay him.”
Of course, Chuuya likely doesn’t require payment. They may not have been partners in years, but Dazai remembers how generous Chuuya is. With insults, especially.
That said, he realizes perhaps the ways he shows Kunikida love aren’t the same thing. Sure, he cooked for Kunikida that one time, and they’ve cooked together a couple of times since, but there’s no moonlit walks, no rendezvous beyond Kunikida coming down to his dorm. There are plenty of quiet moments, mostly sad ones when it rains and Dazai has to face his dark and bloody past. Their affection is less… serious somehow. He has no idea where to start, at least until he recalls how happy Atsushi was after the summer festival. Because for once, he was the one to take initiative. He was the one who invited Chuuya.
Oh. Dazai feels his face start to heat up. Maybe… that would be a good place to start. But it’s too late for fireworks, so… maybe something simpler. Like holding his hand.
It’s simple enough to think of the action, given he and Kunikida have done it before. To carry it out, as Dazai learns, is another matter entirely. One that is nearly impossible for him.
“Kunikida-kun, can we go on a walk after we get off of work today?”
Kunikida stops walking towards the desk and blinks. “You’re still here.”
“Yeah,” Dazai says, smiling. “So can we?”
“I don’t see why not. As long as you don’t gripe about your feet hurting.”
In the space of that walk, Dazai tries five times to reach out for Kunikida’s hand. They don’t even talk on the way. The whole thing feels… forced. Awkward. Staged. Unlike at the office, Kunikida walks oddly stiffly beside him. And Dazai… he half regrets suggesting it at all.
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Kunikida states as they return to the dorms. “I’m just… preoccupied. I have a lot on my mind. It’s nothing you did, for the record. Just something that I’m dealing with.”
Dazai stares at Kunikida, hoping to get an answer, but the blond pushes up his glasses and sighs.
“Come on. We should cook dinner.”
They fortunately had the foresight to buy groceries the day before. Simple beef stew. They splurged a little on the meat, but eating it with Kunikida is something Dazai enjoys immensely. The whole time, though… or at least, for most of it, Kunikida says nothing.
The way Dazai shows love, in opposition to those around him, is… puckish. Oddly playful. None of it would seem affectionate to Atsushi. And it certainly wouldn’t seem that way to Chuuya. Often, Dazai thinks his own partner is just tolerating his antics, frowning through his playful jibs. He’s never sure if the touches he delivers at work are welcome, even if Kunikida doesn’t tense beneath them.
But there are times where their love languages are more traditional, times where, rain or shine, Dazai winds up curled against Kunikida’s chest, smiling, fully believing the world can’t get any more perfect. His mind doesn’t tell him to die, that he’s worthless or irreparable or irredeemable… although there’s no redeeming the crimes he have been charged with, let alone those that went unnoticed.
But in those moments, while Kunikida breathes softly beside him, the world is flawless. Sometimes, Kunikida’s hand winds up massaging the back of Dazai’s scalp, almost to the point where he’s soothed to sleep. Sometimes, he just keeps his arm around Dazai’s shoulders. On occasion, he’ll push Dazai’s messy hair out of his face and just smile at him. And in those moments, those warm and precious moments, Dazai feels… whole in ways he never could alone.
Not that he needs Kunikida. He always tells himself that if he ever got dependent on someone enough to need them, the relationship needed to end because it wasn’t healthy. But having Kunikida there… it’s nice. Probably more good than he deserves.
That night, over dinner, they’re both quiet. Because Dazai is facing this new, perplexing matter of what it means to show someone they’re loved, and Kunikida is staring down…whatever issue filling his mind.
Dazai abandons his half-eaten food and shuffles to Kunikdia’s side of the table. Without a word, he leans against his idealist’s shoulder, careful not to jostle him. He hopes that simple gesture says what he intends it to. I can’t help you, but I’m here for you if you need to talk, or even if you just need someone to sit with in silence.
Kunikida passes him a glance, then offers Dazai a bite of stew that he accepts with a smile.
“Did you dislike the walk?”
“No,” Kunikida answers.
“Then…” he murmurs. “Can we go again sometime?”
Kunikida stares at him for a long moment. “What exactly are you intending to do on these walks, Dazai?”
“So suspicious.” He pouts and sticks his tongue out. “Maybe I just want to spend time with you in a different way.”
“Is there… something wrong the way we normally spend time together?”
“Of course not, Doppo.” Dazai pats Kunikida’s arm and shakes his head, letting a little smile slip out again. “I just wanted you to know that I think about doing things with you besides making dinner and having sex.”
“You’re not in the mood tonight, are you?”
Dazai shakes his head. “You’re fantastic, but I think tonight, I just want to sit like this.”
Kunikida nods, then goes back to his meal.
“I missed you today. While you were gone from your desk.”
“I was gone for ten minutes.”
“Well,” Dazai murmurs, shutting his eyes, “I still missed you.” He glances up to Kunikida’s face again and finds him frowning. “What?”
“Osamu, I’m having an… impulse.”
“What sort of impulse?” Dazai asks, passing Kunikida a smirk.
They wind up in the shower with Kunikida’s fingers rubbing shampoo into his scalp. Not exactly the kind of impulse he was imagining, but a pleasant one nonetheless, especially when Kunikida starts kissing one of the scars that sweeps across his collarbone and over the curve of his shoulder.
He wants nothing more than that. Except perhaps to fall asleep in Kunikida’s arms. And he remains forever grateful the man permits him to.
It’s weeks before they go on another walk given how complicated the shoplifting case winds up being. They make a move to capture the ability user and fail. To say Kunikida is discouraged is an understatement. Dazai does what he can, admiring Kunikida’s commitment to his ideals while watching it cloud his vision.
That first time, all Dazai does is duck out to the convenience store and buy Kunikida a bottle of jasmine tea. He knows Kunikida is fond of it. Without a word, he sets it on Kunikida’s desk.
Their eyes meet briefly. Kunikida’s rises from the form he’s looking at. Dazai tips his own glance and savors Kunikida’s look. It’s a moment that doesn’t need words. Kunikida nods, and Dazai goes back to his favorite couch to nap.
But history repeats itself. The second time they move to apprehend the ability user, they come closer, but at the last minute, the situation turns to favor their target, and they’re once again left empty-handed. After that second failure, Dazai picks up on Kunikida’s inconsolable glumness, so intense that he pesters Kunikida all the way back to his dorm, tugs him inside, and—once the fading sunlight is locked behind the door—drags Kunikida into a hug.
“Let go.”
He doesn’t. Not right away.
“I need to fix this. I need—”
“Doppo,” Dazai murmurs into his hair, pulling the blond even closer. “You will. But not tonight.”
“I need—”
“Doppo,” Dazai says again, holding him close and sinking down so they’re both on the floor of his entryway. He draws a breath as Kunikida finally caves in and hugs him. “I’ll help you. I promise I will. But not tonight.” He threads his hands through his partner’s hair and draws a slow breath. “Please… stay with me. I’m scared.”
“What of?”
“That you’re going to leave me here alone and do something reckless.”
Kunikida pulls away a little. “I can’t say the thought hasn’t crossed my mind—”
“Don’t go.”
“Alright.” Kunikida falls against him, and they cling to each other. “I just feel so worthless.”
Oh, Dazai thinks. Smiling, he murmurs, “Are you going to talk about it for once instead of shouldering the burden all your own?”
“I’m trying to spare you my burdens so you can bear your own better.”
Oh. Dazai runs his fingers through Kunikida’s hair. He fiddles with the tie a bit before deciding to leave it. “I’m not exactly an expert, but… based on Atsushi-kun’s experiences, wouldn’t you say it’s normal to share the burden in times like this?” He changes his mind about the hair tie. It absolutely needs to go. He pulls it loose and threads his fingers through Kunikida’s unrestrained hair. “I don’t know… it just seems like the sort of thing we’re doing isn’t just about you stopping by when it rains and holding me together. Or even about holding each other in general.” Dazai sighs against Kunikida’s ear. “It’s about… communicating. Even it’s a language only we understand.”
“Like you calling me your work wife?” He listens to Kunikida chuckle against his chest.
“And you calling me a waste of bandages.”
“You’re my waste of bandages,” Kunikida insists, squeezing him tighter.
Dazai lets out a breath and swallows. “I’m doing okay today,” Dazai says. “So I can bear some of the burden, too.”
After a sigh, Kunikida begins. He complains for several minutes, and not just about the case, either. Apparently, he spilled tea right before he got to work, and everything went downhill from there. His pen ran out of ink. He got pulled away from his lunch and it got too cold to properly enjoy. Dazai listens, cataloguing the details in his mind, nodding at certain points to show he’s listening. But out of nowhere, Kunikida breaks off and says, “Aren’t you uncomfortable here? The floor is hard, and you’ve been sitting like that for—” He breaks off to check the time on his phone. “Almost thirteen minutes.”
Blinking, Dazai cups his face and murmurs, “I didn’t even notice. I was too busy listening about how rotten your day was.”
“It wasn’t rotten. Just off. I’m fi—”
Dazai cuts him off with a kiss. “I can listen to the rest before we get up. When you’re done, I can try to make you dinner if you want. I have some roux for Hayashi stew. Or we can go pick up something cheap.” He watches Kunikida blink as if he’s processing. “What’s the matter?”
“Ah.” He clears his throat. “My apologies. I just… realized what you’re actually saying.”
Dazai smiles. “Kunikida-kun can be so dense sometimes. Of course, I’m saying that I love you.”
Kunikida shoves his glasses up as his face turns red. True, this isn’t the first time he’s said it, but they tend to reserve this sort of thing for their more intimate moments.
He lets go of Kunikida’s face and stares at the floor, maintaining his thoughtful smile. I don’t get it. Why is it so easy to do this when we’re alone?
“Dazai.” Kunikida’s voice breaks into his thoughts. “I want to kiss you. Let me.”
He accepts without a thought and pulls his partner’s lips to his. I don’t understand… it’s not like holding hands is indecent. But then… Dazai’s thoughts scatter for a moment when Kunikida pushes their kiss a little deeper, not that he minds. Then again… it’s never hard when we’re alone. He snickers, and Kunikida pulls back.
“Where’s your mind at?”
“Oh, you know…” Dazai answers with a little shrug. “Just here and there.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s not important.”
“Tell me.” It’s a plea more than a demand, which becomes even clearer when Kunikida adds, “Osamu.”
“Ah…” He sighs. “You using my given name like that… I can’t resist.”
After a little pause, they both start in the same moment. “I don’t want to force—”
“It’s just—”
And in the same moment, they both stop. “You go,” Kunikida insists.
Laughing, Dazai loops his arms around Kunikida’s neck. “My beautiful, fretful, precious idealist…” He smiles. “It’s embarrassing, but the last time we took a walk, I was holding back, too.”
“Really?” Kunikida asks.
“Yeah,” Dazai sighs. “I so desperately wanted to hold your hand. I just couldn’t gather the courage reach out and take it.”
“Dazai, we’ve been dating for months. It’s fine.”
Dazai feels the slight pressure of Kunikida’s forehead against his and draws a breath.
“You don’t need to hold back anymore, either. If you want something, ask. If I don’t want you to do whatever it is, I’ll say no. Even if most of your outward signs of love are playful, I trust you’ll respect my answer. I’ve never once questioned that.”
“So romantic.”
“I’m trying—”
“I was being serious,” Dazai murmurs. “Kiss me again, Doppo.”
With a little laugh of his own, Kunikida answers, “Only a fool would refuse that.”
They wind up delaying dinner a little longer than he thinks either of them intended. After gorging on grocery store bento, they wind up falling asleep side-by-side the same way they always do when Dazai is troubled. It’s not raining, but concern for Kunikida fills his mind. He pats the man’s hair, still damp from their shower earlier, and lets his own eyes drift shut, trying his best not to slip into that crevice where he’s worrying too much.
Fortunately, when Ranpo catches up with the culprit a week later using Super Deduction, they manage to apprehend them this time. Kunikida looks like a man whose conscience is cleared. Dazai sneaks out before Kunikida finishes the paperwork, planning to spend the evening alone in his dorm. To his surprise, though, a knock at his door summons him. One glance through the peephole shows it’s Kunikida. He draws a breath, opens the door with a smile. “Yo, Kunikida-kun. I didn’t expect you tonight. It’s not raining—”
“Take a walk with me.”
Dazai blinks. “What?”
“You said you wanted to do it again. I’m in the mood.”
That’s how they wind up walking side-by-side through Chinatown and along Yokohama Bay once again. Dazai’s mind is full of their previous conversation about not needing to hold back. But they’re not alone, and the atmosphere feels awkward again.
As if picking up on that, Kunikida says, “Are you waiting for an invitation?”
Dazai glances at him.
“Or did you change your mind?”
He shifts his eyes. “There are people.”
“Yeah,” Kunikida says, turning his eyes to his path. “There are.”
Dazai reaches. His index finger brushes against Kunikida’s palm. He flinches the moment skin hits skin, but he persists, trailing a delicate line down to Kunikida’s wrist without breaking his step. He feels like every eye is on him, like every word is about them and against them. Surely, Kunikida isn’t—
Oh, no. He’s definitely fine. As one look confirms, he’s smiling. “You’re a little shy about this sort of thing, aren’t you?”
“There are people,” Dazai says again. But he leaps over an edge he didn’t know existed, slips his fingers between Kunikida’s own…
The world, shockingly, doesn’t end or screech to a halt. He stops walking for a moment and glances up at his partner. The warm setting sun plays off of his features. When the smile seeps back to Kunikida’s expression, his breath actually catches because of how beautiful it is. Dazai feels Kunikida respond to his pressure, a reassuring little press that lightens but doesn’t fully release as they start forward again.
“If I could bottle this moment and keep it forever, I would.”
“If you could do that,” Kunikida states, “I think I’d wind up liking it more than jasmine tea.”
Dazai laughs. “I’ll bring you some again if you want.”
“You don’t have to.” Kunikida pauses. “But have to admit, I did like it.”
“The same way you like me calling you my work wife?”
“If I say no, will you stop?”
“Mmm… maybe.” Dazai sends Kunikida a puckish smile. “But if you’re serious about me stopping, I’ll try.”
“Don’t you dare.”
They both laugh this time, and Dazai realizes something. Maybe my love language with Kunikida-kun is mostly jokes and cuddles. Maybe I don’t have to learn new ones to tell him what he means to me because he speaks the same ones I already know. Ah… but he enjoys this, and so do I so… maybe I can learn a few more ways to say I love him.