Work Text:
the smell of cigarette smoke and wine permeated deep into red leather and dark wood, covering up years of anesthetic and blood. the sound of pages flipping filled the empty office, slowly, methodically like the flow of time itself. a blonde woman stands beside the desk, reading through stacks of paper. she is quiet, but occasionally her eyes wander to the other person in the room, her boss. he is seated in the spinning armchair, peak of his chin resting on a closed fist. he sits with his eyes closed and a frown on his face.
a cigarette meets his lips as he sighs heavily. it is filled with weight, as if he's letting the world off his back when he exhales a cloud of sickly smoke.
“sir-” the blonde woman begins, but is soon cutoff by a dismissive wave of a gloved hand. her eyebrows furrow, but she listens and shuts her mouth, returning to her papers. the man’s eyes open, piercing blue as the deep ocean. he is glaring directly at her, and she holds back a squeak at the look on his face.
“miss higuchi, I've told you to let me have my smoke before you enlighten me with nonsense.” he says pointedly, words sharp as the knives that cut and slash. they hang heavy in the air, the woman- higuchi, nervously toying with the dog-eared corners of paper.
“yes, mr.nakahara, but this is really important and I think you will want to read this…” her voice grows quiet when she notices how her boss is still looking at her.
“at least let me finish my cigarette, goddamn it.” he says roughly, taking another drag. higuchi nods, and chuuya closes his eyes once again, lost in the brief rush of clearness nicotine brings him. he flicks the butt against mahogany, ashes scattering on carpet. he doesn't miss the way his assistant winced at the burn added to the collection on the edge of his desk. chuuya kicked his chair forward, picking up the pen resting in the mess. “well then, give it here.” he demands.
higuchi hands him the small stack of files. from the first page, chuuya figures it's some sort of business proposal, what with the syrupy sweet words and praise towards him. merely uninterested he flips to the next, scanning over the words. his faces grows less and less enthused as he does.
“higuchi, where did you get this?” chuuya demands, and his assistant knows not to withhold anything from him when he uses that voice, one that sends shivers down the spines of the port mafia’s enemies.
“one of my agents found it outside your office this morning, sir.” she answers, and chuuya scowls, displeased.
“how the hell did someone get in here?” he mutters, more to himself than anything. he has armed guards at practically every entrance to mafia headquarters, and the black lizard should have been on guard during the time chuuya has estimated the perpetrator could've gotten in. he takes a breath, steeling himself, forcing every bone in his body to stay calm. after the first page, the document sours like rotten fruit, lofty words fallen to threats and promises of hell. chuuya feels blood boiling, heating up.
because this is personal. at this point it's barely a mafia affair. this is an attack aimed right at chuuya’s heart, stabbing through his chest and gushing his feelings all over like blood.
“dammit!” he yells, face thrown into his hands. he hears higuchi jump, and the shuffling of feet on carpet as he feels her coming closer.
“sir? mr.nakahara?” she starts with a quiet voice, “what's wrong?” higuchi questions, a hand hovering next to chuuya's arm before she thinks better of it. chuuya doesn't say anything for a minute, then lets out a long breath. he steadies himself and mind, aware of arahabaki starting to speak instead of him, the destruction and urge to do something he'd regret being forced to the back of his mind for the god to rage and scream over.
chuuya stands from his chair, taking one of the pages and throwing the rest to higuchi, who squeaks in surprise and fumbles to catch them.
“sir! where are you going? is everything alright?” she called after him. chuuya paused near the office door.
“just hold this place down till I get back, got it? I won't take long.” he answered briefly before stomping out into the hall, slamming the door and leaving higuchi to process being in charge of the mafia. chuuya contemplated the elevator but opted to step out onto a balcony and jump off, catching his fall with tainted. he's pretty sure the poor guards outside nearly fainted when they saw him. chuuya’s got the paper from the file clutched in his fist. it was evidently a threat, a taunt, an obvious trap meant to catch the port mafia boss like a mouse. usually he'd just send a squad to take out the organization that started it, but this time they'd actually managed to catch chuuya’s interest- well, more accurately, make him angry, which was hard to do.
his motorcycle is parked in the mafia’s private lot. it lights up with a click of keys. chuuya shoves the paper in his pocket and kicks back the kickstand as he starts the engine.
his mind tends to drift when he's like this, and chuuya can feel himself loosing focus. honestly, corruption was looking like a pretty tempting option, but he couldn't do that, not when dazai wasn't here and was the one in danger. that would be slapping a death sentence on both of them.
somehow, whoever had sent that file had managed to get ahold of dazai, who was slipperier than an eel. chuuya didn't know how to feel, so he settled for anger. ever since the threat of the decay of angels had ended, yokohama had been generally free of disaster. the occasional mafia fight and petty criminal was the most they'd had to deal with lately, and this sudden threat over dazai’s life had sent all of chuuya’s instincts into hyperdrive.
it's unfair what dazai does to him.
yokohama rushes past chuuya in a blur as he follows the memorized route to the detective agency dorms. he's there in minutes, but it feels like hours. from the outside, nothing seems out of the ordinary in the apartments. there's no cars, no signs of struggle or a fight. it puts chuuya on edge when he starts walking up the rickety metal stairs. he hurries to dazai’s door, hesitating before opening it. chuuya decides to press an ear to the door, but hears nothing besides the routine hum of air conditioning.
he doesn't expect to find anything inside then. chuuya figures they'd probably left some sort of clue, another bread crumb in the trail to their actual hideout. he takes the handle and pushes it open in a glow of red, with an awful squeak.
chuuya scans the genkan. he sees nothing but dazai’s shoes and his trench coat hanging on the wall. so they just have got the jump on him, chuuya figures. dazai always wears that coat, even in summer when he complains about the heat nonstop.
he carefully steps inside, quickly scanning the small kitchen area first. the fridge is ajar, so chuuya goes over to inspect it. there's not a lot inside it, just leftovers and a bunch of cheap drinks. he sighs and shuts it, deciding there's nothing of value there, it was just dazai’s usual ignorance. on the counter is an open can of crab- chuuya notices it looks recent. he must be close, not far behind.
aside from some dishes in the sink there's nothing else in the kitchen. chuuya sighs, giving the place one more glance over before heading into the main room. the lights are off and the curtains are closed. he fumbles for a moment, looking for the switch. chuuya has to squint when he turns them on, blinded by the sudden brightness. chuuya nearly does a double take when he sees fluffy brown hair peaking out of the blankets on the futon.
a million thoughts flash through his head, but the first one he acts on is the worry dazai’s still hurt and the enemy organization left him here to bleed out.
chuuya dropped to the side of the futon, pushing back the covers. he didn't see anything to be immediately worried about, but then he jumped to drugs and poison when a further inspection revealed no blood at all. chuuya shook dazai, pushing him off his side to look up at him. chuuya watched with bated breath as he watched dazai’s eyes flutter open.
chuuya racked his brain for possibilities. maybe a long term poison? something of that sort, it had to be. dazai had become aware of his surroundings while chuuya was lost in thought, and when chuuya glanced back downwards he saw him smiling up at him.
“chuu! what a surprise!” dazai exclaimed happily, springing upwards to sit level with chuuya. he tilted his head, then giggled, when he saw the confused and downright furious look on his chibi’s face. “what's wrong, cat got your tongue?” he said, in that usual teasing tone. chuuya spluttered, tripping over his words.
“what did they do to you? are you hurt, anywhere at all?” chuuya managed to get out, grabbing dazai’s face in both hands. ocean blue eyes pierced wine red. dazai frowned, attempting to pry chuuya’s hands off his face to no avail.
“augh! what's gotten into you? bad dog!” dazai cried, “you're making stuff up, no one tried to hurt me!” he complained, still futilely clawing at chuuya’s iron grip. he could feel his fingernails digging into his cheeks but chuuya didn't seem to notice. the mafia boss scowled, bringing his own face closer to dazai's, seemingly inspecting him. dazai squeaked in surprise at being dragged.
“you can tell me, they won't make good on any threats.” chuuya said sternly with a dead serious face, that had dazai holding in laughter.
“seriously chibi! I'm fine!” he insisted, and chuuya's frown deepened. one hand left dazai’s face to rummage in his coat. dazai watched with mild interest before chuuya brought out the file paper, straightening it out before presenting it to dazai, holding it right in front of his face. he could practically see the gears turning in the brunette’s head, before he heard dazai stifling giggles behind a hand. chuuya whipped the paper away, staring at dazai incredulously.
“this isn't funny! you're in danger-” chuuya was cut off by dazai raising a finger to his lips, shushing him. looking up from the paper he was greeted by the sight of dazai fully laughing now, flopped down on his futon and staring up at chuuya.
“I forgot all about that! guess it finally reached you, huh?” he said giddily, with the air of a child playing petty pranks on his friend. it didn't take chuuya long to make the connection, he'd been dealing with dazai’s bullshit for years.
“what the hell? this was you, shitty dazai?!” chuuya yelled, to which dazai nodded, smiling. he didn't seem to care about how absolutely pissed chuuya was. of course dazai would find humor in emotionally torturing him. “do you even know how worried I was?” chuuya told him, grabbing him by the shoulders to pull him up. dazai shouted, something about chuuya being a brute. chuuya stared into dazai’s eyes, taking in the confused look on his face. chuuya barely saw dazai confused, clearly he was missing something.
“osamu, I was worried sick about you.” chuuya said again, now that he had his attention. dazai didn't seem phased by that, and he figured dazai was used to hearing chuuya say that by now, after all the attempts and fighting. chuuya ran a hand through his hair, sighing heavily. “I was really, really scared, you know. I care about you. I don't want to see you get hurt anymore.”
“chuu chuu, you're so strung up-” chuuya gritted his teeth, keeping all the words he knew would sting inside, instead shaking dazai by the shoulders, which effectively shut him up long enough for chuuya to get his own words in, between dazai’s meaningless rambling that sounded far to calm for his liking.
“dazai! listen to me, damnit.” chuuya spit out, and he saw dazai staring right at him, hands clutched in tight fists on his knees. as per usual, chuuya couldn't read his expression- it was blank, like the demon prodigy’s lifeless stare, a look that never failed to send shivers down his spine. “listen, I- ugh, dazai, I almost used corruption. when you weren't there. you know how that could have ended.” chuuya practically growled, a hand moving to grab dazai’s shirt and pull him up.
anyone else wouldn't notice the subtle changes in dazai, but chuuya could. he saw the way his eyes grew the smallest bit bigger, how his shoulders slumped. dazai’s body language was immediately off, and chuuya couldn't help but wonder if he said something wrong, if he hurt him. the thought was nearly laughable- the demon prodigy, the youngest executive in history, being emotionally wounded? years ago chuuya would have scoffed at that.
now though, as dazai’s avoiding chuuya’s gaze, he can't stand to see him like that.
“hey, osamu. you okay?” he asked gently, leaning down where dazai’s slumped down on his futon, face smashed down onto his pillow. “c'mon, you can tell me if I did something wrong.” dazai grumbled something he couldn't hear.
chuuya sat down on his side, reaching out a hand to run through dazai’s hair. it felt greasy underneath his fingers, he'd need to get him to shower soon, maybe get him to come back to his own apartment. he felt dazai leaning into his touch, rolling over to look at chuuya.
“I didn't wanna think about you dying.” dazai said quietly, and chuuya let out a breath. he ruffled brunette hair gently, affectionately. chuuya realized what he said about corruption must've set dazai into a sort of mini-spiral, something chuuya hated doing to him. he sighed and smiled down at the brunette.
“you don't have to worry, I'm not going anywhere,” chuuya stared firmly, as if it was a fact. dazai allowed a small smile to slip onto his face.
“chuuya owes me a date,” he told him. chuuya rolled his eyes affectionately.
“yeah? and what about me? you dragged me all the way out here when I was busy,” chuuya smirked, “surely you owe me something.” he said, and dazai groaned, rolling onto his back to glare at him.
“no way, I only pulled you here because I missed you!” dazai declared quickly, “you should spend more time with your boyfriend y'know.” chuuya couldn't deny that he had definitely been too busy lately to spend much time with dazai. he'd been meditating deals between a hostile foreign organization and that required his full attention. actually, now that chuuya thought about it, he probably hadn't seen dazai in a week or so.
“mhm, whatever you say, sweetheart,” he said quietly, running one hand down dazai’s side gently. his breathing was relaxed and soft- the way chuuya liked it. as much as he'd claimed to hate him back in their younger years, nowadays he couldn't bear to see him hurt. chuuya knew dazai was the same, he'd seen the concern on his face whenever he'd come home with new injuries or an exhausted expression and would make chuuya watch a movie or take a bath with him, under the guise of being tired or bored but dazai really just wanted chuuya to relax.
it was endearing, the way dazai would take care of him in little, discreet ways. a freshly washed suit when his got stained with blood, an attempt at cooking when he came home late. sometimes chuuya would wake up to the smell of burning and the sound of sizzling in the kitchen, only for dazai to give him a bowl of cereal and pass it off as breakfast in bed. he'd sulk the rest of the day if chuuya said anything.
“we're going to a nice restaurant,” dazai declared suddenly, “I'm gonna spend all of chuuya’s money on crab.” the mafia boss chuckled, affectionately ruffling dazai's hair.
“I keep crab at home for you, no need for that.” he said, and dazai huffed indignantly.
“that's the canned stuff! it's not the same, chibi.” dazai insisted, playfully batting at chuuya’s arms, wrapped around his slim waist and holding him tight like he was something fragile, glass.
“sure, whatever you say ‘samu.” he leaned over to press a quick kiss to dazai's temple. they sit like that for a while, dazai smiling as chuuya held him. it was nice to spend time with his mackerel, and chuuya really didn’t feel like going back to his office anymore. he thought about it for a minute or so, but quickly decided he’d rather take dazai back to his apartment and spend a nice afternoon with him. maybe they could even go for that dinner date in the evening, it’s not like chuuya had anything to do.
“let's go to my place, we can spend the rest of the day together.” chuuya declared, wrapping his arms under dazai’s armpits to drag him up, already decided on taking him whether he liked it or not.
“aah! at least give me a warning, chuu chuu!” he cried, but happily followed chuuya to his dormitory’s door, grabbing his coat as he went and scrambled down metal steps after his boyfriend. the prospect of spending his time in chuuya’s fancy, warm apartment was more than welcome after sleeping in his rather… drafty dorm room. chuuya was already sitting on his bike, clearly waiting for dazai.
it was the dead of winter, but no snow had fallen yet, leaving barren and frozen ground and a wind that chilled dazai to his bones. he wrapped his coat around himself, slipping onto the seat behind chuuya and grabbing onto his waist, resting his head on his shoulder. riding with chuuya was what dazai thought flying might be like. he couldn't hear anything besides the wind and the hum of the engine. it seemed like only seconds before they were at the apartment complex chuuya lived in, and dazai was jumping off, scrambling up the steps ahead of chuuya with the keys he'd picked out of the redhead’s pockets.
chuuya shook his head, locking his bike up before following dazai to his apartment, up on the last floor. when he gets all the way up, dazai’s carelessly left the door open, and his shoes are scattered across the genkan. chuuya slips his own off, hanging up his hat as well. since it's nearly christmas the sun is already beginning to go down, but inside chuuya’s apartment it's pleasantly warm, and bathed in cozy light.
dazai’s already in the kitchen, rummaging through the pantry.
“oi, what are you looking for?” chuuya asks, coming up behind him.
“crab, duh,” he says, “where did you hide it?” dazai’s got his head practically stuck in chuuya’s cabinets, and chuuya had to hold in a laugh.
“I'll make you something nice, you should eat more than that canned stuff more often.” chuuya replied, shooing the detective out of his kitchen.
“noooo! you're so mean to me, chuuya.” he whined, draping his annoyingly long body across the countertop, sitting at the island while chuuya turns the stovetop burner on, already going through what he was going to make. he'd have to include crab, of course, and rice. dazai was always willing to eat that. after a quick inspection of his fridge chuuya decided on making a simple crab soup with some rice and sauteed vegetables, because goodness knows the bastard needed some in his diet.
it's mostly quiet besides the occasional pop of the burner of and the sounds of chuuya cutting on the wooden board. dazai lets himself fall into the rhythm of it, eyes closed and chin resting on his head as he listens to the sounds of his chibi’s cooking. he's not sure how long he sits there, but eventually he hears the sound of the nob clicking on the stove and silverware clinking.
“rise and shine, mackerel.” chuuya says quietly, and dazai opens his eyes. the wonderful smell of crab is enticing, he has to admit.
“what a good dog I have, cooking for me…” he drawls, picking up the spoon and blowing on the soup carefully.
“hm, whatever you say dazai,” chuuya says, sitting down next to him, “just eat your dinner.” although he's got his “annoyed” face on, his tone is nothing but fond. chuuya watches as dazai finally decides his soup his cool and takes a bite, his eyes lighting up just a little. it's endearing, chuuya thinks, as he's trying his own meal. it's a little hot, but it tastes good. he'll have to note the recipe down, based on how dazai’s bowl is pretty much finished within a matter of minutes.
“eat your vegetables.” chuuya says, breaking the silence. dazai, as expected groans in annoyance. chuuya’s reminded of scolding a misbehaving toddler, which really isn't that far off.
“I'm not your kid, you can't boss me around.” he retorts.
“yeah, but I'm your boyfriend and I care about you. eat them.” chuuya says sternly, to which dazai whines, poking at the steamed veggies on top of white rice, staring at the bowl as if they just killed his best friend. dazai knows he's being stubborn, but he is not eating something that makes him shudder with disgust. but, he realized, those stupid soggy vegetables were keeping him from a nice evening watching shitty rom-coms and cuddling with chuuya. he poked his tongue out in defiance, a truly terrifying act.
“quit acting like a child, dazai. you're twenty two for goodness sake!” chuuya grumbled, the last part mostly to himself though. dazai heard it just fine, however. (his chibi was rather loud).
“I don't like them, so I'm not eating.” the brunette protested, sticking his chopsticks into the rice and leaving them there.
“oh for god's sake–fine, fine. you win, shitty dazai. give it to me.” chuuya demanded, motioning to him to slide his bowl over, then picked all the vegetables off the rice. “there, it's just rice now.”
“yay! thank you chibi!” dazai cheered, already shoveling food into his mouth.
“geez, slow down, you're gonna get cramps.” chuuya said, with a hint of teasing in his voice. dazai tries to speak, but it's muffled by his chewing. chuuya snorts, smiling. when dazai looks up at him, there's a few grains stuck around his mouth, which chuuya wipes off with a thumb with an exasperated look on his face.
“can we watch a ghibli movie?” dazai suddenly asks, and chuuya nearly laughs for the third time that night.
“yeah, mackerel, we can,” chuuya complied, “just put your dishes in the sink first.” the redhead had already finished and discarded his own, so he headed into the living room to wait on the couch. of course he wasn't waiting long, and dazai came bounding in to snuggle up on the couch. there was a throw blanket on the couch, which was pulled off. it was fluffy and blue–they’d picked it up when chuuya was redecorating. dazai loved it. it was his favorite color and didn't irritate sensitive skin, so he eagerly wrapped it around himself and chuuya.
“does kiki's delivery service sound good?” chuuya cut into dazai’s thoughts. he looked up at the TV. chuuya had opened netflix already.
“yep!” dazai answered cheerfully, arranging the blanket around him and chuuya’s laps. chuuya smiled, clicking on the movie. dazai shuffled towards chuuya, resting his head on a warm shoulder. chuuya’s face softened as he felt him move closer, and placed a hand around dazai’s waist to pull him just a bit closer. a gentle grin tugged at dazai’s face as he stared at the screen where the kiki was getting ready to leave home. neither of them moved or spoke for a while, simply happy to be with each other, after both of them had been drawn away by work. chuuya sighed contentedly, happily. he had kept his grip on dazai’s waist–it gave him the feeling of keeping him close, of making sure he was safe and didn't slip away from between his fingers in cold winter wind.
chuuya was vaguely aware of the opening theme playing in the background of his mind. the redhead could also feel dazai’s breath on his neck, a reminder he was still there and breathing. he could only imagine dazai felt similarly, what with how a hand had found it's way over chuuya’s beating heart.
despite the snow starting to fall, they were warm.