Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Oda found Dazai laying face down on the carpet of his apartment. Well, face down and gun drawn. Thankfully not pointed at his own head this time. Even though Dazai could shoot him through the eyes without even looking, Oda knew the gun was just drawn on reflex since his ability, Flawless , hadn’t been activated. 

And sure enough, Dazai lowered the gun with a visibly shaking hand. 

“Sorry,” he breathed out.

“It’s alright.” 

He moved to hang his coat, wash his hands, and did some dishes that were left over in the sink while he was at it. Crowding Dazai was never a good move, but neither would he come to you on his own. The fact that Dazai was in Oda’s apartment at all was one thing, but him openly showing his negative moods without a sheet of humor drawn over top it was a new occurrence that Oda had had to learn how to navigate through a torturously slow game of guess and check. 

Progress is never linear, and with Dazai it was always two steps forward, one step back; sometimes three. 

Being a professional assassin for part of his life, and with an ability that let him see if he was in mortal danger, Oda wasn’t a nervous person. But today as he stood in the kitchen, the sight of Dazai, now rolled over on his back with an arm thrown across his face, was making him start to nervously perspire. Oda had a plan brewing, and it was either going to be a hit, or it might scare Dazai off for good. 

He took a deep breath and came to sit crisscrossed by his young friend. He sat there as the sun through the windows slowly crept across the room, long enough for Dazai to eventually peek out from underneath his bandaged arm in curiosity, with brows intensely furrowed. Yes, maybe today was the day he tried out his plan, but he wanted to poke and prod a bit just to be sure. 

“What is it today?” he kept casual, putting the emphasis on “today”, making it sound like he was just asking about Dazai’s evening plans, which technically, he kind of was. If Dazai was dreading a meeting with Mori he would bring it up and Oda’s idea would have to be put on hold. If it was just his all consuming depression he would be able to tell by the answer. But if it was what he was thinking…

“I don’t know!” Dazai cried out while childishly banging his limbs on the ground in mock temper tantrum, or as Oda was starting to suspect about his friend, not as mock as one might think. “I don’t know what's wrong, I can't fix it, I’m just—” He let out a frustrated groan. 

Oda gave a sympathetic hum of understanding, then slowly stood up and went to his closet to dig something out.
“I got some new toys for the kids. Would you like to see them?” 

He could feel Dazai’s annoyed and confused stare from across the room. God, he hoped he wasn’t going to make a fool of himself. 

Not waiting for an answer that wouldn’t come, he brought a bag out of the closet and sat down next to his friend. He was lying, it wasn’t for the kids. Well, it had been at one time, so he supposed it was a half truth, not that there was any hope of getting it past Dazai anyway. With as much of a casual air as he could, he reached into the bag and took out the content:

A simple brown stuffed bear. 

He set it on the floor next to the boy. 

Amber eyes stared at him distrustfully. 

He stared back unflinchingly. 

Dazai turned to stare at the bear. 

The bear stared back.

...

“This is dumb.” 

Oda shrugged, “Maybe,” he agreed, standing up to stretch. The fact that Dazai hadn’t stood up and immediately walked out was a good sign. “I’m going to shower. When I come back I’ll make you dinner.” 

He left, Dazai still staring down the bear like an opponent. Yes, he thought to himself, I might be onto something…

That bear was not for the kids. He knew that, and he knew Oda knew that he knew that. But some part of him appreciated the lie his friend was keeping up; it kept the board completely open. 

He turned his gaze to the ceiling for further deniability until he heard the rush of water from Oda in the bathroom. The blinds were closed. The door was locked. There was no way Mori would have surveillance in here, Oda wasn’t worth it.

What would be the harm in just looking? 

He rolled over and continued his staring contest with the bear. 

Its fur was chocolate brown, one color all the way around. It was a cheap thing, not too plump at all and oddly proportioned. You could see the wefts of the fabric through the thin and synthetic fur. The only item of charm it posed was a navy blue ribbon tied around its neck, a little too thin, making the bear come off even cheaper than it would have if it didn’t have the bow at all. That, and it looked so... soft.  

Today, Dazai’s clothes felt rough and abrasive. They scratched and itched at any area of exposed skin under his bandages. They folded and rumpled in annoying places and made him far too aware of his own body. Even the bandages on his eye itched, and the tape holding the one to his cheek pulled at his skin. 

But that bear. It looked so soft. Even in its low quality. 

There was no one to see, so he reached out a hand, and it almost didn't feel like his own as it brushed against the fur. 

Soft. 

He let his hand rest on the bear's leg. Not feeling the fur, just resting there. And for a blissful 10 minutes all that was in his head was the sound of his own pulse, the rush of water from Oda’s shower, the itch of the carpet beneath him, and the weight of his hand on that bear's leg. 

When Oda came out of his leisurely shower, Dazai was still exactly where he left him laying on the floor. He was staring at the ceiling this time instead of the bear, but there was a kind of calm to him now replacing the buzzing anxious energy he had had earlier. 

He wondered which one of them won the staring contest. 

Dazai was quiet but calm as Oda made enough dinner for both of them, but he didn’t stay to eat it. 

He bid adieu to both Oda and “Mr. Bear” on his way out. 

Chapter Text

Dazai’s nerves were shot. Mori had him waiting around, changing the plan, keeping him in the dark, secluded, and on his toes, for days, just to pull out completely and say no action was required of him at all. He knew nearly from the beginning that Mori was giving him orders just to play mind games with him, but unfortunately, knowing that meant nothing. He still had to keep up with them. Prodigy or not, everyone had their limits, and even if Dazai didn’t think such things applied to him, those closest to him could recognize when he was near his. 

Awake for nearly 72 hours, he was nearing the period of sleep deprivation that brings the overwhelming urge to pass out, no matter the time, place, or occasion. But accounting for the stress Mori had kept him under, and his familiarity with sleep deprivation in the past, he predicted that he still had about 3 more hours in him before his nerves could come down from their elevated state and finally let him catch some rest. Which would probably be just around the time Mori called him up again saying there was more work to do. 

He didn’t even turn his head in acknowledgement when Oda sat down next to him at their usual drinking spot. Only sniffed his congested nose while staring down his drink like he could move its particles and evaporate it with his mind… Wouldn’t that be an interesting ability?.. To be able to control the speed and movement of particles in order to change their temperature and state? Of course, if you had enough control over it, you could probably move them apart with enough speed to—

“You got a cold or something?”

Dazai tried not to bite Oda’s head off for interrupting his train of thought. 

“Something like that.” 

He didn’t even really know why he was upset. He purposefully came to Bar Lupin because he knew Oda and Ango might show up, but now that one of them had, he somehow felt like the evening was ruined. Ridiculous. Illogical... He wondered if somehow Mori was still testing him. 

Oda sipped his drink with no regard to the tension between them. It was something Dazai appreciated about the man; that he either didn’t pick up on the mood, or simply didn’t care to be bothered by it. The refreshing bizarreness of it instantly wiped away any of the resentment he had towards him.

The rest of his thoughts continued buzzing around in his head like angry bees however. 

The bar-tender came up, perhaps realizing Dazai wasn’t going to touch the drink that had been sitting in front of him for about forty-five minutes. “You want some water instead?”

Dazai rested his head on the cool and slightly sticky countertop of the bar with a congested sigh. “No.” He could feel his heartbeat in his whole body. He shifted his head to rest, propped up on his forearms, in order to come across more casual and unbothered rather than pathetic incase somehow Mori was still watching him.

The two sat in silence while Oda finished his drink. Dazai traced the grain of the wood with his eyes.

“Want to go for a walk?” 

Dazai blinked back to focus, having fallen into some kind of dazed micro-sleep with his eyes still open. 

“What?” 

“Walk?” Oda asked more plainly, and Dazai’s body followed like it was an order. 

The cool air of the wet streets outside helped spark his body back to alertness. His brain was fighting over itself trying to decide whether that was better or worse than the warm cave of Bar Lupin that he had almost just dozed off in. It made some sort of wet feeling bubble up and rise inside of him like a pot about to boil over. So Dazai slammed the lid on.

He didn’t even really notice that where they ended up walking to was Oda’s apartment. The thought of fighting him on the invitation to enter was too much work and so he gave up before he even started. 

Some of the buzzing in his mind turned into a more gentle hum, when Oda lightly towel dried the rain that had collected on Dazai’s head from their walk. Rare displays of physical affection had started to become more common between them, and Dazai was still trying to decide what he thought of it.

“Sit, I’m making us something to eat.” Oda held out a blanket over by the table once Dazai had toed off his shoes in polite form. “Here.” 

Something about this gesture made Dazai’s brain start back to life. It was strange. Different. Not normal. The blanket was a pale blue color. And fuzzy. He had not seen it in Oda’s apartment before. 

Dazai took it from Oda’s hands, but made no move to sit down with it. 

But as always, Oda seemed not to care for the awkwardness and went into the kitchen to start making something. 

He thought about leaving. Leaving was always an option. They would show up at the bar again like always as if nothing strange had happened at all. Oda might even take the hint and never invite Dazai over again. He quickly silenced the thought that he disliked that idea. 

On the other hand, it was interesting, that blanket. He knew Oda had his little gang of gremlins being kept safe at a curry shop, but if he had bought it for them it would have still been in its packaging from the store, and why would he purposefully find it to offer to him? Even though Dazai was far too tired to play any more mind games, Oda was always one for bluntness; he could simply ask. But in order to poke into that wonderfully bizarre mind of his drinking buddy, he would have to wait for dinner to be done. So he might as well sit. 

He did not cover his lap with the blanket, but he saw no reason to let it go, so he held onto it with one hand. If his thumb brushed along the texture of the blanket repetitively while he waited, there was no one to see. 

Somewhere along the way of waiting for Oda to be done cooking, and holding the odd blanket, Dazai had started to finally relax from his four day long mental assignment from Mori. The sounds of the kitchen no longer banged against his skull, and instead turned into a calming source of sensory ambiance. He was starting to be in an okay mood, despite the bubbling feeling that was still rising in his chest. Oda told him to wash his hands before they ate, and it somehow made the feeling even out and bubble up more at the same time. He reluctantly let go of the blanket but made sure not to move it from its place so he could come back to it when he returned. His limbs felt somewhat endless as he rose, feeling way too tall once he was up fully. An odd sensation he ran across sometimes, usually in the wake of mentally taxing assignments like he had just been through. He could return to his place at the table and that soft blanket once he washed his hands like Oda had asked.

But of course, anything worth wanting would be lost to him as soon as he had it, and before he could even walk to the sink, his phone rang with the person he wanted to hear from least, yet knew would be the only one to call him. 

“Boss.” 

“Now now, Dazai-kun, what’s with the formal title? We are friends, are we not?” 

“Something wrong with the infiltration unit I put together?” They both knew there was. The mission was fabricated from the beginning. Designed to fail from the start. But could it really be called failing if it never could succeed anyway? 

“New information has come to light. You missed something.” He didn’t. Not something that was there before at least, just something Mori planted post-facto. 

“My apologies. Send me the new materials. I’ll deliver a new plan by dawn.” 

“Three AM.” 

He missed the days when Mori underestimated him. When he could surprise the man. When he could make him freeze in his seat. He was still capable of it, but with the amount of work he was under right now, necessary or not, he didn’t have the energy to spare. 

“Say, Odasaku, what was it you did again today?” 

“I don’t recall ever telling. Do you have time to hear it?” 

“No.” He didn’t leave though. 

“Well,” Oda said a fast itadakimasu and chewed a bite of the instant rice before continuing, “I changed the filters in the air system of one of the office buildings, I helped look for a lost report in a terribly organized filing system, I stood guard over a short meeting between a client and one of our cover companies, and… Oh, and I ran two groups of lunch orders.”

Dazai comically swooned in the doorway. “Odasakuuuu~~~ it’s better than any newspaper or sleazy tabloid you could find~~~” 

He didn’t take another look at the blanket as he left, but he really hated the way he thought about it the whole way out the door.