Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Ah, Dazai-kun, Chuuya-kun, welcome back!”

Chuuya respectfully bowed his head as he followed Dazai into Mori’s office, doors closing behind them.

Dazai, obviously, had no such sense of respect, instead instantly blurting out, “Hey, Mori-san, did you re-decorate? The office looks better than a few hours ago.”

Chuuya huffed. There was nothing new about the office, and his Dazai-bullshit-sensor was going off, so he just braced himself for whatever came out of his idiot partner’s mouth next. As they stood straight in front of Mori’s desk, Chuuya watched as their boss raised an eyebrow at Dazai.

“I haven’t, Dazai-kun,” he answered, smooth and sure.

Dazai just hummed and made a big show of looking around with that one singular, eerie eye of his before gasping, as if he’d come to a genius revelation. Much like Chuuya’s, Mori’s expression suddenly turned an exasperated shade of anticipation. Or, perhaps, it was more akin to impending doom.

“Aaah, I’ve got it!” Dazai exclaimed, gesturing to the office at large. “The annoying brat isn’t here!”

Chuuya scowled in annoyance and Mori’s expression instantly hardened. Dazai hating on Elise wasn’t exactly uncommon, but Dazai could at least have the decency to keep it to behind closed doors instead of bothering Mori headfirst.

But who was Chuuya kidding? This was Dazai. Telling him not to annoy someone is like telling a cat not to knock something off a table. Futile.

“Elise-chan isn’t here because she’d interrupt the mission report by arguing with you, Dazai-kun,” Mori almost whined, and Chuuya honest-to-god swore he saw tears build in his eyes, as if Elise wasn’t his ability, wasn’t completely under his control. Still, the boss collected himself quite quickly, clearing his throat. “About the report. I trust the mission went smoothly.”

Before Chuuya could even open his mouth, Dazai was already waving at their boss almost dismissively.

“Come on, Mori-san, who do you take us for? Of course, it went fine.” Dazai huffed, childish and clearly already wanting to leave. Two of Dazai’s natural states. “The gang you had us track were amateurs at best. I mean, they ran away just from seeing my dog punch one guy! It was pathetic. They could’ve made it a little more fun, at least!”

Chuuya felt a growl in his throat at the dog comment, and Mori looked distinctly amused. He looked in Chuuya’s direction, silently asking him if he had anything to add, but Chuuya just shook his head. There was nothing outstanding to add, and any detailed mission reports are given on paper. Which he will be doing all of, since Dazai certainly won’t touch them, the lazy bastard.

Mori nodded back at him. “Well, I’m glad to hear it went well. Though, I would expect nothing less from you two.”

Chuuya smiled a bit at that. It was always nice to receive praise from the boss, even if sometimes he was lumped in with Dazai when receiving it. Speaking of, Dazai didn’t seem to have the same positive reaction to the praise, as he just scoffed.

“Come on, don’t praise the chibi so much or his ego will explode all over us,” he said haughtily, giving an exaggerated sigh. “He hardly even did anything except beat one guy up, as I said. I found their location, I made the plan to sneak in, I saw through their terrible red herring. So, I did most of the work, right?”

And Chuuya knew when he was being purposefully riled up. This wasn’t the first time Dazai pulled shit like this, and the expression he had adorning his face gave the bastard away. He was fishing for a reaction out of Chuuya, likely because he’d decided that he hadn’t gotten enough, today.

But Chuuya wasn’t really bothered and far too tired to deal with that, if he was honest, so aside from an annoyed sigh and an eye-roll, he didn’t indulge the childish antics.

Mori clearly saw through it, too, judging by the continued amused expression he wore—but as if challenging Dazai to keep going, he did indulge it.

“Is that so, Dazai-kun?” He prompted, raising an eyebrow towards the vagabond. Dazai look startled for a split second, something Chuuya almost missed, but he still nodded. Mori hummed and continued, “I suppose credit is due, then. Excellent job, Dazai-kun. I would truly expect nothing less from my best executive.”

The hairs on the back of Chuuya’s neck prickled. The title itself didn’t bother him—Mori called Dazai that all the time, and Chuuya would be lying if he denied it. Dazai may be a pain in the ass, but the benefits, profits and revamps he’d brought into the Port Mafia spoke for themselves. He never found himself being jealous of the title—to be honest, he used it to tease Dazai more often than not. Mori just used it to brag to everyone in sight, and Dazai often whined like a child that was being embarrassed by their parent.

However, there was an odd undertone to it, this time. One that Chuuya really didn’t like.

Mori didn’t stop there, though, throwing more praise Dazai’s way.

“Naturally, it only makes sense that my right-hand-man performs the best, right?” He said, and Chuuya spared a glance at his partner, who was staring at Mori like the boss had shot him. His nose was scrunched, which was different from the usual whiny chagrin he showed when Mori praised him like this.

And, looking back at Mori, it finally dawned on Chuuya why the words were bothering him, this time around.

Usually, when Mori spoke about Dazai, he put clear emphasis on best, amazing, right hand man. On the parts that were actually praising Dazai, the parts that were truly supposed to show Dazai’s worth, his talent. The parts that embarrassed Dazai.

Now, though, Mori was clearly putting emphasis on the my.

My best executive.

My right-hand-man.

Chuuya found himself frowning, the slight switch in emphasis and tone making the entire interaction feel not only tense, but uncomfortable. He could feel his gut churn with irritation and something more protective that he couldn’t quite name—he wasn’t sure how he felt about the whole situation, exactly, aside from annoyed.

Dazai was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a damn tool.

He wasn’t something that could be owned, not in the way the boss was insinuating.

So, with his mind made up and frustration flowing through his veins, he cut the boss off before the older man could speak again.

“Sorry, Boss,” he said, just about managing to remember to bow his head in respect—despite the boss losing some of it, actively. “But I promised Ane-san I’d meet with her, and ya know how she gets when I’m late.”

Mori’s gaze flicked over to him, and despite every instinct in him telling him to straighten up and fully bow, Chuuya just met the gaze head on. He needed the boss to know how serious he was about leaving. He also tried to conceal his annoyance, for the most part—although he wasn’t sure how well that went over.

“Of course, Chuuya-kun. Thank you for coming.” Mori gave him a smile and a small wave of his hand. “You’re dismissed.”

Chuuya nodded and grabbed Dazai’s arm, pulling him out of the office. Dazai opened his mouth, but closed it again quite quickly, for once not bitching about being ‘violently manhandled’. Chuuya could feel the weight of Mori’s stare on his back, but didn’t look back a single time as he lead Dazai through the large doors and out into the hallway.

As soon as the door closed behind them once again, he felt Dazai wiggle out of his grip.

“What was that about?” Dazai asked, looking genuinely baffled. It wasn’t a look Chuuya saw on his partner often, so he committed as much of it to memory as possible before shrugging.

“Dunno. Just wanted to get out of there, ya know? We had nothin’ else to say, anyway,” he replied, shoving his hands in his pockets as his body lost its previous tension. “And you looked just about ready to jump out that window. You’re welcome.”

Dazai’s eyes narrowed. “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen you try and lie to Mori-san. Do you actually have a meeting with Kouyou-neesan?”

Chuuya huffed. “Sure, but it’s not for another few hours. I didn’t technically lie.”

“Wow, so the doggy can learn new tricks, huh?” Dazai said, but for once he didn’t sound directly antagonising. “Thanks, I guess. Chuuya didn’t have to, Mori-san is just, ah…annoying. He does this all the time.”

And oh, did Chuuya know. He would have to pay more attention to how the boss spoke to Dazai, from now on.

“Yeah, yeah. Stop calling me your dog, bastard.” He gave Dazai a punch in the arm before stuffing his hand back in his pocket and starting to walk off. “Now come, I have a few free hours and I know your ass ain’t doin’ anythin’ either. Bet I can beat your ass on the console?”

“Ah, but Chuuya lost the bet! He’s my dog for life now, see,” Dazai mused, and Chuuya could hear the vagabond’s footsteps as he followed him. “And you said that last time, too, but you still lost…”

Chuuya scowled as the bastard appeared at his side. “Ugh, shut up. I can totally beat your ass if ya stop your cheatin’!”

Dazai gasped dramatically as he slammed the elevator button. “Such baseless accusations!”

“They’re not baseless when I watch you fuck with my controller, you fucker!”

“You’re hallucinating things to make yourself feel better, Chuuya.”

“God, I swear I’ll kill you some day.”

“Urgh. No thanks. Dying by your hands is worse than losing to you. Although I suppose that never happens…hey!”

“Bastard, don’t dodge when I’m tryin’ to kick you!”

Chuuya was having a good day. Really, he was. He’d swiftly completed the solo mission that boss had sent him on (Dazai was nowhere to be seen, but Chuuya insisted he could do it himself, and he was proven correct), already handed in the report and was work-free by the evening.

Now, he sat in his warm office, unwinding on his chair for the last few hours of being on-call. Maybe he’d pour himself some coffee and get ahead on some of Double Black’s mission reports before he went home.

It was a good idea, since Dazai definitely had reports he’d left unfinished with a sticky note telling Chuuya to, but Chuuya hesitated with his hand on the handle of the drawer.

He wasn’t one to get worried about Dazai, not even when the bastard randomly disappeared. It was something the waste of space just did, but not hearing anything from him for a full day was a bit off-schedule. Usually, if Dazai felt the need to vanish he would’ve left some kind of sign for Chuuya by the end of the day, just so Chuuya didn’t waste time having to track him down to pull his ass back to work. Those wild goose chases always ended up with both of them in trouble, Dazai injured, or Chuuya too pissed to work—so that was the compromise.

But Dazai hadn’t, and the boss had already confirmed he didn’t know of the bastard’s whereabouts, either. Which could mean one of two things.

One, Dazai had actually succeeded in his goal of killing himself.

(While this was an option, Chuuya highly doubted it—not because he didn’t believe Dazai would, but rather because he’d just know, if it had happened. Since the universe didn’t feel off-kilter and Chuuya still had a nagging annoyance at the back of his head, the bandage-waster wasn’t six feet under.)

Or two—

The shrill sound of Chuuya’s ringtone broke through the silence of the office, effectively cutting his thoughts off. He grumbled, leaning over to grab the phone from where it was vibrating on his desk. Without even looking at the contact (he knew that ringtone, after all, it was a specifically set one) he answered the call and pressed the phone to his ear.

“Ya better not be fuckin’ dead, shitty Dazai!”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the call, then some shuffling before a voice spoke.

A voice that was distinctly not Dazai’s, despite coming through his phone number.

“He’s not dead, and if you don’t want him to be, you’ll listen to what I say.”

Chuuya’s nose scrunched at the gravelly, male voice. No fucking way.

“Why the fuck should I listen to you, hah?”

If Chuuya’s thinking was heading in the right direction, and Dazai had truly gotten himself captured, then he was surprised the man on the phone was still capable of speaking. Dazai might’ve been easy to get, if he let it happen, but he wasn’t one to stay in place. Once he got what he wants, he got out.

Suffice to say, while Chuuya wasn’t worried, he was definitely confused.

“In case you’ve forgotten, we have your best executive,” the man on the phone sneered, and Chuuya had to hold back a laugh. Sure, you do. “And if you want him back in one piece, you will pay—”

“Hang on,” Chuuya said, cutting the man off. “Who do you think I am?”

The man on the phone hesitated. “The Port Mafia Boss?”

What.

Chuuya’s stomach lurched a little at the thought of being the boss, but he pushed it down. Dazai must’ve falsely made his kidnappers believe that they were calling the boss, and since Mori’s voice wasn’t exactly known, they hadn’t questioned it.

But what the hell was Dazai’s play, here?

Despite all his questions, Chuuya played along. “Smart, aren’t ya?” He said, pushing as much confidence and cockiness into his tone. He couldn’t act like Mori, he’d suck at that, but he could act like a leader. “How’d you get him to confess? I trained him better than that.”

A half-lie. Dazai was indeed trained for interrogation—and against it—but not by him.

The man laughed through the phone. “Oh, he didn’t confess. We took his phone, and this number was the most recently dialled. When we said we’d call it, he looked terrified—started shaking his head and begging us not to.”

And wow, wasn’t that an image. Chuuya could picture Dazai conjuring up those stupidly-exaggerated tears of his, putting on the show of a lifetime even if restrained in some way.

“So ya figured it’d be me, huh? Clever.” Not really, but he’ll show some pity. They’re dealing with Dazai, after all. Plus, it’s always nice to fake-boost an enemy’s ego before crushing it to bits.

“Well then, gentlemen. What can I do for you?”

Chuuya proceeded to listen with half-interest for about ten minutes as the man boasted about how weak the Port Mafia is, and how he could demand literally anything, now. Chuuya held his tongue, but he couldn’t help but think that if the man had actually dialled Mori, he wouldn’t be so confident.

Chuuya was holding his tongue to go along with Dazai’s stupid information extraction plan—Mori would not have. The boss is smart, and just as cunning as Dazai, if not more, but if Dazai thought that Mori could understand his plan, he would’ve let the kidnappers actually call him.

But no. Instead, the bastard made it Chuuya’s problem.

The man had given him an address, probably some secondary location nearby to where they’re keeping the vagabond, and a brave request of a large sum of money and a big chunk of the Mafia’s weaponry.

The idea that these guys thought Dazai was worth all that was laughable, but it did give Chuuya a location to work with. The only question he had was when shitty Dazai wanted him to show up, if at all. The man had given the time limit of twenty-four hours, but—

“The Mafia should really take better care of their resident wraith,” the man said suddenly, catching Chuuya’s attention again. “He’s truly ours, now, and it was so easy.”

What.

It was clear it was taunting, since Dazai had a reputation for being so untouchable—the man had been doing it the entire phone call. And yet…

Chuuya barked a cruel laugh. “Yours? Don’t lose your head, now, dear. You may have him, but he is far from yours.”

He surprised himself with the velvety-smooth voice coming from his mouth; he sounded sort of like Ane-san. Still, he couldn’t find it in him to take back the words. The man on the other side seemed just as shocked, considering the long moment of silence.

“He’s in chains! He was practically begging, earlier. He is ours, for now, fair and square.” The half-assed confidence had returned to the man’s voice, though the sentence did begin with a bit of a sputter.

“Is that so?” Chuuya questioned, already rising from his chair as Tainted thrummed under his skin. “And, pray tell, what gives you the right to say that?”

“I’d watch your mouth, if I were you, Boss,” the man replied, aiming for a cocky tone and missing by a mile. “Don’t forget our terms.”

“Oh, I remember your damn terms. I also remember that the man you ‘have’ is my demon of a partner. Good luck,” was Chuuya’s final statement before he ended the call, stomping out of his office and heading for that damn address.

Screw Dazai’s information-gathering plan to hell, he was too tired for this shit. If the bastard wanted the cavalry, he’d get it.

Predictably, when Chuuya arrived at the scene, it wasn’t to Dazai chained or tied up—but rather the opposite.

There were three men on their knees against the wall, hands clearly tied behind their backs as Dazai watched them with a bored stare. He had a gun in his hand, but Chuuya could see no blood or gunshot wounds on the enemies, so he assumed it wasn’t used. Yet.

Dazai himself looked largely uninjured; he had a few small cuts on his cheek—ones that he will certainly complain about later—and was generally a bit roughed up, but it wasn’t anything attention-worthy.

Chuuya sighed, Dazai’s gaze instantly snapping to him. In a flash, the single-eyed gaze turned from bored to annoyed.

“Chuuya!” Dazai whined, turning his back on his ‘kidnappers’ as he stomped towards Chuuya like a pouting child. “You didn’t follow the plan! Ruined my fun!”

“Be glad I played along at all, bastard,” Chuuya hissed in return. He wasn’t expecting a fight, but now he was itching for one. He knew he should be satisfied that Dazai had the situation under control, but a part of him was really looking to punch some pricks in the nose.

Dazai stared at him for a long moment, scanning his face like Chuuya had said something puzzling. He raised an eyebrow, but Dazai’s expression just smoothed out.

“Ah, I guess since the slug blew the plan we can just get going,” he said, purposefully loud. He spun the gun in his hand, using his other one to gesture to the tied up men. “Does my dog wish to do the honours, or will I?”

Right. The men were dangerous, they were massive information leaks. They couldn’t be left alive if there was no more use for them.

Chuuya hummed, scanning them. “Abilities?”

Dazai yawned, exaggerating the action with his arms stretched skyward. “None.”

Chuuya frowned. “Organisation?”

“Nothing of note,” Dazai replied, “they really did just get a lucky break, I was hoping to find out who their informant is, but they won’t budge. And Chuuya ruined my plan!”

“Communicate it better next time, bastard. Ya didn’t tell me shit!”

“Ah, but you were doing just fine! I thought you got it!”

“Ugh.” Chuuya huffed, walking over to the tied-up vermin and tapping all three with his foot. Just a second later, there was a faint red glow coming from everyone present—bar Dazai—as the air got significantly heavier, the sound of bones slowly cracking under pressure filling the room.

It wasn’t his style, to do this when Dazai had a perfectly usable gun in his hand. There was no more information to extract, Dazai had made that much clear. Really, it would’ve been much faster to just shoot all three in the head, swift and efficient.

And yet, looking at the men’s faces, the phone call still fresh in his mind, filled his blood with a sizzling kind of rage. He wasn’t in the mood to make this painless or merciful.

“Maybe,” he said, crouching down to make sure the squirming pests heard him. He couldn’t quite recognise his own voice, but that didn’t stop him. “In your next life, you’ll know to avoid touching what’s not yours.”

There was no reply, of course, but the fear in those eyes told Chuuya everything he needed to know—that he’d been heard.

It wasn’t fulfilling, yet; there was a nagging urge at the back of his head to lift them up only to crash them back down, until nothing was left of them, but he decided against it. He wasn’t here to drag things out unnecessarily, and the morbid sounds were satisfying enough.

It only took a little more weight until the squirming stopped, all sounds ceasing as the men went limp, bones and organs crushed under the inevitable pressure of gravity. Chuuya rose again, but he was the only one.

When he turned away from the corpses, he found Dazai looking at him strangely—like he didn’t recognise him, not fully.

“What?” He asked, feeling oddly defensive. Dazai had done much worse to people. Chuuya had both witnessed it and heard of such.

“Nothing,” Dazai replied, though his voice sounded airy and high-pitched, like he couldn’t decide what tone to use. It was unusual, to see Dazai hesitate about which one of his stupid masks to adorn.

The vagabond didn’t say anything else, so Chuuya just nodded and walked past him, towards the exit. Footsteps followed just a moment later, and Chuuya huffed as he resigned himself to walking all the way back to headquarters since he had flown here, and he couldn’t exactly return the same way with Dazai in tow.

Dazai remained peculiarly silent for most of the walk, and Chuuya just let him. He wasn’t sure what the bastard was lost in thought about, this time, but he’d enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasted.

It wasn’t until they were just a few minutes away from headquarters that Dazai spoke.

“‘What’s not yours,’ huh?”

Chuuya froze, Dazai taking a few steps in front of him as a result before turning around. He shot the bandaged idiot a glare. “Got a problem?”

“Maybe,” was Dazai’s reply, accompanied with a hum. “You got so mad…and ruined my plan.”

Chuuya felt a growl building at the back of his throat. “I already told you—”

“Ah,” Dazai cut him off. “But why?”

Chuuya blinked. “What?”

“You were going along with the plan flawlessly. I’m not buying that you didn’t know what I was aiming for, Chuuya. You only began acting up after a certain boast of theirs…”

“Shut up,” Chuuya hissed.

Dazai didn’t. “See, you got mad and derailed the plan when they called me theirs. You didn’t like that.”

Chuuya’s jaw clenched. He wanted to refute that, say that he didn’t like the entire situation. That he was just tired. But he couldn’t, because he’d be lying. Fuck Dazai and his psychoanalyses, his knowledge of how Chuuya behaved.

“So, pray tell, Chuuya,” Dazai practically purred, like they were playing some twisted game and he was about to win. “Whose do you think I am?”

And looking in that dark eye, Chuuya found that he knew what Dazai was seeking.

Or, more accurately, the reaction Dazai was fishing for.

Dazai had been confused, earlier, about Chuuya’s actions. About Chuuya going off-track, about his behaviour, his reactions.

By taunting Chuuya, Dazai would get both the joy of Chuuya’s fluster and an answer—since only one answer would have Chuuya angry or flustered in the first place.

Chuuya didn’t feel like playing, though. “Mine.” He raised an eyebrow. “Your sorry ass is my responsibility, because you’re my partner. Only I can deal with your shit, the only one who can keep up with your schemes. So yeah, I got pissed when they claimed that they could. I’d like to see them fuckin’ try.”

Dazai stared at Chuuya like he’d stabbed him.

Taking in the satisfaction of catching Dazai off-guard, Chuuya brushed shoulders with him as he walked past. There was still some embarrassment stirring in his gut, but mostly he just felt content. His chest was squeezing in odd ways, but it felt lighter.

“Hurry up, idiot,” he called over his shoulder, ensuring Dazai would actually follow him instead of standing like a stupid statue. “We have shit to do. And close that mouth, you’ll catch flies.”

If this is the reaction that pulled out of Dazai, Chuuya thought as he walked, it could be easy to get used to.

“Chuuya, I’m home~”

Chuuya huffed as Dazai’s voice echoed through his home, and he put the knife that he was cutting with down and yelled back. “I’m in the kitchen! Take your damn shoes off!”

He didn’t hear any protests, but he knew Dazai was at least pouting. The taller man always rushed to where Chuuya was when he came home, often forgetting to take his shoes off—and then had the audacity to sulk about cleaning the floors after.

It was only moments later that Dazai practically skipped into the kitchen, thankfully in slippers instead of shoes and his tan coat discarded. He was about to say something, but Chuuya instantly cut him off, scanning him critically.

“What happened to you?”

A fair question, considering Dazai looked terrible. His hair was an absolute mess, he had dirt and small rips on his pants around the knee area, his bolo-tie looked like it had been almost ripped off, the collar of his shirt was rumpled and—

Chuuya frowned, taking a step forward to inspect Dazai closer. Dazai, to his credit, didn’t move as Chuuya’s gaze lingered on his neck.

“Ah, got in a fight. It’s part of our career path, isn’t it?” Dazai said, voice light and unconcerned. His shoulders moved a bit as he shrugged, but nothing could’ve taken Chuuya’s eyes away from his neck.

“They’re loose,” Chuuya said, “your bandages.”

Dazai sighed. “Yeah, a little, they—”

“Did someone try to take them off?” Chuuya asked, throat feeling oddly itchy at the mental image. The thought of anyone trying to forcefully take Dazai’s bandages off had him tensing.

“Well, no—”

“Were they tugged on? Used as leverage?” Chuuya had a finger near the bandages himself, now, hand hovering just over the gauze, but not yet touching it. The bandages didn’t look like they were pulled on from the front—the back, then?

“Chuuya—”

“A fight, you said? This is playin’ dirty as fuck for a fight—”

“Chuuya!”

Chuuya’s eyes snapped up at the sudden exclamation, his gaze meeting Dazai’s one. He swallowed, moving his hand away from the bandages and taking a small step back.

“Right, sorry,” he said, unsure what possessed him to invade Dazai’s space like that. His fists clenched at his sides, eyes flickering between looking at Dazai’s face and neck.

Dazai didn’t look upset, though, and what left his lips next was a quiet chuckle.

“I know Chuuya is a mother hen, but maybe he should listen, for a moment?”

Chuuya nodded, being put a little at ease by the fact that Dazai didn’t seem bothered. It wasn’t a mask, either, or Chuuya would be able to tell—so it’s likely nothing that bad actually happened. He cursed himself out internally for jumping to conclusions, but couldn’t find it in him to apologise again.

Dazai smiled at him in appreciation. “Yes, the bandages are loose. No, no one tried to take them off me. Yes, they were tugged on, but not harshly enough to come off. Ah…I’m relatively sure it wasn’t even intentional; they were already a little loose from sweat and just got caught on something.”

Chuuya opened his mouth, but Dazai beat him to it.

“And yes, I’m okay, Chuuya.”

That made Chuuya’s shoulders drop a little, his heckles lowering. If Dazai was alright, and the bandages hadn’t actually come off, then he had nothing to worry about.

Yet, he couldn’t shake the pit in his stomach, nor the insistent buzzing at the back of his mind. It frustrated him a little, the need to know, even if Dazai had already told him they hadn’t been taken off. It frustrated him that despite all the trust he held for his partner, he couldn’t quite believe the words until they were repeated.

“No one saw, right?” He asked, a bit hesitant. He had to know, in order to soothe his growing unease, but he hated that he had to ask.

Dazai blinked, then his gaze softened almost comically. “No.”

And Chuuya hated how that one simple word, a short denial of his worries, had his entire body flooding with a satisfied and vicious sense of relief. He essentially melted, reassured that the knowledge of what lied under Dazai’s bandages was something that was still between him, Dazai, and the grave of a kind man four years gone.

It filled him with a sick sense of pride, the honour of being one of the only people to see Dazai at possibly his most vulnerable, the privilege that was having Dazai let his walls come down near him.

Still, he had a little bit of a reputation to uphold, so his next move was punching Dazai’s shoulder. He ignored the following whining as he hissed. “Lead with that, next time, bastard!”

Dazai looked almost affronted, but his amused gaze told Chuuya he was down for their usual banter. “Chuuya didn’t let me! He just started barking before I even said anything!”

“‘Cause you came in actin’ like it was normal!”

“We work dangerous jobs, slug; it is normal.”

“Bullshit. You knew what you were doin’.”

Dazai grinned and didn’t deny it, which was all it took in Chuuya’s eyes to warrant another punch. “Annoying prick.”

There was a long moment of silence, Dazai simply staring at Chuuya and Chuuya staring back at him. Slowly, Dazai’s grin melted off his face, replaced with a gentler, more private smile.

“…Will you take them off?”

Chuuya sighed, glancing over his shoulder at his cutting board. The food could wait, he supposed, since he hadn’t put anything on heat, yet.

“Yeah, ‘course.” He pointedly ignored the way Dazai practically lit up as he took the taller man’s hand, leading them towards their bedroom. “C’mon, mackerel, I have food to cook.”

Chuuya stood in the middle of a hospital ward, tapping his foot impatiently as the nurses shuffled around to inform him of the room number that his stupid, fishy, annoying ex-partner was currently being held in. They had been a little hesitant to give him the information, at first, but as soon as Chuuya had given proof that him and the bastard were (to his greatest chagrin) legally married, they’d immediately softened and rushed to provide it.

He’d thanked the nurses as soon as he got the number, rushing towards the room. After all, he’d only just found out that Dazai had been injured in the first place—shot through the shoulder, apparently, like the careless and self-sacrificial idiot he was—and it was via a text sent by the mackerel himself. It was a selfie, one of him in hospital-wear and on a hospital bed, with an added caption of ‘bullets hurt, it’s not fair you’re bulletproof!’

Chuuya had immediately pressed the call button, but Dazai had declined it, saying that the Agency was in the room and he couldn’t call him right now. And while the fact that Dazai informed him of his injury so suddenly already had him annoyed, that addition had his blood boiling.

The Armed Detective Agency was a place Chuuya frequented far more often than he’d like or want to. While he didn’t hate the detectives (aside from Dazai, of course, but he was his own, unique matter) he didn’t particularly like them, either, and they got on his nerves more often than not.

He got along with them on the odd occasion, sometimes getting roped into having some interesting conversations with their resident doctor, giving the weretiger lad tips or chatting idly with the farm kid. But there was heavy emphasis on the sometimes.

Case in point, now was not one of those sometimes, because he got the full force of at least four glares as he opened the door to Dazai’s hospital room.

He raised a challenging eyebrow as he met one gaze after the next, eventually landing on Dazai’s slightly surprised and extremely amused one.

He ultimately decided to ignore all the not-Dazai-detectives, taking a step forward to start heading for his bandaged idiot’s bedside. Just as he took the step, though, an arm was extending in front of him, blocking his way.

The audacity, Chuuya thought, as he slid his gaze to the side to note who obstructed his path. He was met with protective and determined green eyes—Dazai’s work partner. Glasses, blonde hair, and a stick up his ass. Kunikida, Chuuya remembered.

“Can I help you, four-eyes?” Chuuya prompted when the other man just glared at him.

Kunikida looked pensive for a moment before he cleared his throat and finally spoke. “What are you doing here, Nakahara? This is Armed Detective Agency business.”

“I think it’s obvious what I’m doin’ here, is it not?” Chuuya replied, gesturing to Dazai on the bed without taking his gaze off Kunikida. “The bastard’s injured, why wouldn’t I be here?”

“I understand you two were…co-workers, before,” Kunikida said, narrowing his eyes. “But Dazai is with the detective agency, now, so he is our problem. There is no need for you to be here.”

And while Chuuya could understand that logic, to some extent, he naturally didn’t like it. At all. There were so many layers to his and Dazai’s relationship, ones that these detectives could never even scratch the surface of.

Chuuya could tell that they didn’t know what the fuck they were talking about.

He could also tell when he was unwanted, no matter how it was phrased.

Still, he held his ground, unmoving.

“I don’t need to be his co-worker to visit him in the hospital,” Chuuya said, raising an eyebrow. “Last I checked, this is a public hospital, and, well, the nurses let me through just fine.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, at the door.

Kunikida seemed to consider this, frowning a little. His arm didn’t move out of Chuuya’s way, though, and Chuuya was starting to get impatient. He could sense Dazai holding back his laughter, even if he still refused to look at the mackerel.

“I don’t know what you told the nurses, but the Port Mafia is not welcome here,” Kunikida eventually said, seemingly having made up his mind. “Especially not in a place where our co-worker is vulnerable.”

And there it was again. Our. As in the detective agency’s. It rubbed Chuuya the wrong way, when used against him in this context. Sure, Dazai was the detective agency’s in terms of employment, but that was…it, really.

“What, you think I’m gonna kick him while he’s down?” Chuuya snorted incredulously. “C’mon, I have more honour than that.”

“Forgive me if I don’t trust you at your word,” Kunikida said, clearly not sharing Chuuya’s humour. Damn. “No matter your history, Nakahara, Dazai is no longer with the Port Mafia. He is one of ours, now, so I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

And while Chuuya was willing to play a bit nice beforehand—these were people Dazai cared for, regrettably, after all—he felt his simmering annoyance rapidly turn to anger at those words. Because not only were these people trying to forbid him from being at Dazai’s side, there was also that.

There it was, again.

He is one of ours, now.

One of ours.

Chuuya snarled, baring his teeth a little as his patience ran thin.

“Listen, four-eyes. I respect ya, mostly, but you really gotta keep your mouth shut about things you don’t get,” Chuuya said, cold and leaving no room for argument. Before anyone could say anything in reply, he held up a hand and continued. “Dazai might be your co-worker, now—hell, he’s your friend. But he is my partner, work or not, and I will stay at his side as I like, especially when the vagabond is injured.”

Chuuya glared at the shocked-still Kunikida as he swiftly ducked under his arm, heading for Dazai’s bedside, without interruptions this time.

“The Port Mafia has got nothing to do with why I’m here, so you can shove it. Learn to see people as more than their professions.”

“Chuuya’s such a good guard dog…,” Dazai started, breaking the following silence, and Chuuya shot him a glare immediately to shut him back up.

“You keep quiet, bastard, I’m still pissed at you. What the fuck were ya thinkin’, sendin’ me that vague shit?! Tell me earlier, damn it!”

“Ah, but I told you as soon as I could! I promise.” Dazai smiled at him, and despite the whiny tone, he seemed genuine—and Chuuya did feel the previous anger seeping out of him.

Still, though…

“Fuckin’ tell me normally, next time, instead of your stupid photos,” Chuuya grumbled, flicking Dazai’s forehead. Dazai pouted, but didn’t object, so Chuuya took that as a win. He eyed Dazai, scanning the taller man from head to toe once, twice—then he met Dazai’s gaze again, asking him millions of nonverbal questions in just one look; all of which, put simply, came down to;

Are you okay?

Dazai’s gaze softened, even if minimally, and he gave the slightest nod, lip quirking up into a sincere smile.

Yeah. Thanks, chibi.

Chuuya huffed. He didn’t have to ask what Dazai was thanking him for. They both hated hospitals, let alone being in ones without the other. He gave Dazai a half-smile in reply.

Don’t mention it.

And, honestly, he’d forgotten that they weren’t alone in the room until a voice that pointedly wasn’t his or Dazai’s asked, “what?”

Chuuya turned to the source of the voice—the weretiger kid. Atsushi. He didn’t look judgemental or antagonising, though; just confused.

Thankfully, Chuuya didn’t have to answer him, because the kid’s stupid mentor decided to actually explain himself, for once.

“Atsushi-kun! Why the fluster? You’ve met the hat-rack before, right?”

Atsushi tilted his head in further bafflement—ironically, not unlike a cat. “Well, yeah, but…,” he trailed off momentarily before shaking his head, pulling himself together a little. “About what Chuuya-san said…the hospital wasn’t letting in anyone but co-workers and relatives to see Dazai-san…”

Understanding washed over Chuuya, then, and he found himself empathising with the kid’s confusion. To literally everyone else, it would seem like there was no reason for Chuuya to fit into either of those categories. Unfortunately for him, though…

Chuuya didn’t take his eyes off Atsushi, but he could feel Dazai grinning like an idiot just out of view. Then he felt a small tap on the back of his hand. A touch that could only belong to one person, and it was saying one, simple thing:

Can I?

Chuuya understood the implication—to tell the truth here, or at least part of it, Dazai would have to reveal his marriage status. And, well, while him asking Chuuya for permission first was appreciated, Chuuya found that he didn’t really care. If Dazai had enough faith in these people to give them this information, then they could be trusted with it. No matter how much trust Chuuya held for them, he trusted Dazai with his life.

So, in a few quick motions, he gave a one-shouldered shrug and a thumbs-up in Dazai’s direction.

Fine with me.

“Here’s a quick life lesson, Atsushi-kun,” Dazai chirped, and Chuuya could see how the kid’s interest was piqued due to the tone. “With enough money, one could get into anywhere, in this world.”

Which was…true, Chuuya supposed, if a bit morbid. He probably could’ve used his wealth to bribe the nurses into letting him through. He wasn’t sure why Dazai was starting with such a lie, though, if he was planning to tell the truth; he chalked it up to the bastard wanting to be dramatic.

Atsushi’s eyes fell on Chuuya, then, and he just raised an eyebrow back at the weretiger. Atsushi stared at him for a few long moments, seemingly searching for something in Chuuya’s unwavering gaze. Then his eyebrows furrowed and he looked back over Chuuya’s shoulder, at Dazai.

“But that’s not it…,” he said, sounding confident in his deduction, even if he still had the original confusion of a lack of final answer. “Someone would notice and let the staff and us know if there was bribery like that going on, it would just be too complicated, and…” He glanced at Chuuya. “You don’t seem like someone who would buy people over. No offence, Chuuya-san.”

“None taken.” Chuuya’s not even sure how he could take offence to that.

“All the members of the Agency are pretty well-known and we have ID, so you couldn’t fake being one of us—”

“I could fake an ID pretty easily, kid, and I could be a new hire.” Chuuya wasn’t entirely sure why he was playing into this charade; honestly, he kind of just wanted to see how far he could push this before he and Dazai had to tell the truth.

“That’s a lot of hassle just to see Dazai-san,” Atsushi replied, and Chuuya had to give him that. If he wanted to see Dazai that badly, he would’ve just sneaked or forced in his way in. “For the same reasons, you wouldn’t fake being a government worker or anything, so…”

Before he could finish, Dazai cut in.

“Excellent detective work, Atsushi-kun!” He exclaimed, and he did sound earnestly proud of his protégé. “You’ve come so far. And yes, you’re on the right track! See, Chuuya here is legally down as a relative of mine. Crazy, right?”

Chuuya noted the purposefully misleading choice of words. Dazai hadn’t explicitly said they were married, implying that they could be related another way. He did specify legally, though, likely to banish the thought of them being biologically related from anyone’s mind. What a bastard, still playing mind games—Chuuya had to admit, though, it was a good way of pushing the weretiger kid to make some new deductions; and, well, he was still curious.

“What?” Atsushi croaked after a moment of silence. He was rapidly looking between the two of them, trying to slot the puzzle pieces together. “Then you’re, what, brothers? Adoptive?”

Dazai clicked his tongue in disagreement, and Chuuya’s face scrunched up in immediate disgust. It was a good guess, he supposed, but the thought repulsed him for multiple reasons. They didn’t even have to say anything, Atsushi taking the hint for what it was.

“You can’t be distant or long-lost relatives, because Dazai-san said legally.” Good catch. “And if adoption is off the table, then…”

There was only one other option that made sense, really.

Atsushi’s eyes widened in realisation and he yelled out, at the same time as the linchpin and the doctor, “You’re married!”

“Ding ding ding!” Dazai called out, amusement swinging in his tone.

Chuuya smirked as he took in the shocked faces of Dazai’s co-workers. There were varying levels and different types of shock, but shock nonetheless. Aside from the linchpin, but Chuuya just ignored that know-it-all.

“It’s only legally,” Chuuya felt the need to add. “We got married for a mission back in the day, and never got around to gettin’ it annulled. Now it’s just convenient. So, don’t get any wrong ideas, got that?”

“Being Chuuya’s husband, even if only legally, is just terrible,” Dazai whined, prompting Chuuya to roll his eyes. “Ah, but it is convenient. Chuuya here gets to harass me in hospitals and keep tabs on me, sure, but I get access to his bank accounts.”

Speaking of which. Chuuya turned to Dazai, who met his gaze instantly. “Have you eaten?”

Dazai hesitated for a split second before answering. “Yes.”

Chuuya’s eyes narrowed. “Recently?”

“Within the last twenty-four hours.”

“Ugh.” Chuuya clicked his tongue, beginning to leave. “What do ya want? I’ll go grab somethin’. And no, you’re not gettin’ out of this. I’m not havin’ you lose blood then not eat.”

Dazai bitched half-heartedly in protest, but Chuuya wasn’t having it. He just waved a dismissive hand at the bastard. “Shut up, idiot. I’ll get ya somethin’ light, but you gotta eat it.”

He waited for Dazai to reluctantly nod before nodding in return, and turning to exit the room. Right before he disappeared through the door, though, he turned back to face the agency’s doctor.

“Hey, make sure he drinks water, yeah? He never fuckin’ does on his own.” And since he knew that Dazai was going to start getting questioned and teased by these nosey co-workers as soon as he left, Chuuya internally smirked and decided to add more fuel to the fire. Ignoring Dazai’s betrayed look, he said, in the most threatening voice possible, “If I come back to find my husband dehydrated, you won’t like what happens next.”

With one last reassuring (because he will be back to stay with Dazai, here, and he needs him to know that) and teasing (because it’s payback, fucker) glance at Dazai, he swiftly left the room, smiling to himself at the ruckus that exploded behind the door as soon as it closed.

Ever since the evening at the hospital, Chuuya had found himself in the cramped detective agency office a little more often.

They weren’t as hostile towards him, anymore, since the reveal of him being legally married to the bastard. No one glared at him as he entered the office, nor did they bat much of an eye when he bee-lined for Dazai’s desk practically every time.

His strictly-business visits turned into casual ones quite quickly, and he found himself spending a lot of his downtime there.

Really, it was just another thing to add to the list of benefits that came with being married to Dazai on paper.

That was why he found himself perched on Dazai’s work desk, one leg crossed over the other, on a Wednesday afternoon. He’d popped by just to drop off some files and say hi while he was here, maybe stay and chat for the few hours he had to spare before he had to go back to work.

Of course, he’d ended up being roped into more than just a few conversations, and now he was basically a glorified timer, periodically bribing (or threatening) Dazai into doing his paperwork. He didn’t really mind—anything to make Dazai suffer while getting nothing but benefits.

He had barely been doing it for an hour before the detective agency had another visitor, though it was no one Chuuya recognised. Someone requesting their services, probably. For a brief moment, Chuuya considered quickly slipping away—it probably wasn’t a good idea for him to be here, as unknown as he might be as a Mafia Executive, just in case—but Dazai had lightly grabbed his wrist, shaking his head.

No need.

Chuuya was surprised for a moment, but found that the sentiment seemed to be shared by the entire agency. Even the linchpin and four-eyes looked plenty content with Chuuya staying where he was; and so, Chuuya did.

He focused on the visitor, instead, admittedly curious. It was a woman, with hair that was dark, sleek and similar to Ane-san's in length. She looked to be on the younger side, maybe about he and Dazai’s age, if he had to guess—though he knew better than to assume—adorned in a casual, summery outfit. Overall, quite a charming young woman.

Kunikida walked over to talk to her, and Chuuya couldn’t quite make out the words, but he saw the woman bow, so he could only assume she was requesting something, indeed. He was terribly curious, though, so he glanced down to Dazai to ask the man his thoughts, but found the seat empty.

Chuuya blinked, brief shock going through him before it was replaced with exasperation as he realised that Dazai was now on one knee in front of the woman.

And, well, it didn’t take a genius to guess what the bastard was asking her. Especially not with how the woman immediately went red in the face, and Kunikida looked halfway to an aneurysm.

With a sigh, Chuuya hopped off Dazai’s desk, making his way across the office. After all, Kunikida couldn’t put Dazai through the wringer, at the moment, since he should probably help out the poor woman. Chuuya, though, was free game.

As he approached, though, something unexpected reached his ears. Something that, in all the seven long years that he’d known Dazai—and by extension bared witness to all these stupid suicide proposals—he’d never heard as a reply to him.

“Oh, of course!” The woman’s voice said, chipper and almost…excited? “I’m so flattered!”

Chuuya watched as Dazai’s face cycled through multiple swift emotions before settling on pure confusion. He would’ve laughed, if it wasn’t for the completely bizarre situation. Dazai hesitated for a moment before croaking out a short, “…What?”

The woman tilted her head. “A lover’s suicide…that truly is romantic, you’re right. And with you…”

And that…that was the woman shamelessly checking Dazai out.

Which there was many things wrong with, sure, but Chuuya didn’t really care about that part, right now. It was no secret that Dazai was an attractive man—something that he used to his advantage more often than not—and it was hardly the first time he’d been admired or checked out.

What Chuuya did care about was the woman’s choice of words.

Not the acceptance of Dazai’s stupid suicide proposal, no—Chuuya couldn’t give less of a damn. Dazai went around proposing double suicide to essentially every woman he came across. Chuuya had already said it didn’t bother him, as long as Dazai never actually went through with it.

But that was the thing—what Dazai always proposed was double suicide. A joint one. Whatever.

Not a lover’s one.

Chuuya had the sudden urge to stomp over and stand behind Dazai like the guard dog he constantly got compared to, but morbid curiosity stopped him temporarily.

Don’t get him wrong—he would still get his fill of defending what was his; but just as Chuuya had never seen this before, Dazai had never been in this situation before.

What would he do?

And so, Chuuya just stood off to the side, a good few metres away. The woman hadn’t noticed him, and while Dazai probably had, he hadn’t shown it. Kunikida noticed him, sparing him a questioning and pleading glance, but Chuuya just shook his head and held one gloved hand up.

Wait.

Kunikida looked surprised for a second before he nodded, getting the message if not the intention. Chuuya smirked as he brought his attention back to the other pair—specifically Dazai, who still looked like a literal fish out of water.

Then, as if a switch flipped, Dazai seemingly composed himself as he got up off his knee. He still looked slightly awkward, but it was hidden well enough that if you didn’t know how to see past his usual masks, you wouldn’t be able to tell.

But oh, Chuuya could.

And he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t slightly gratifying.

“Ah, I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding…” Dazai said after a stuffy silence. He plastered on his charming smile, trying to play the situation off the best he could. “You’re a lovely woman, but you see, I…can’t join you, in this case.”

Chuuya held back a snort at how quickly Dazai switched up, even if he knew the cause. The woman, though, did not share the sentiment; she looked almost affronted.

“What?” She said, previous chipper attitude visibly draining from her. “Why?”

Dazai looked like a deer in headlights, but he kept the smile up. “A lover’s suicide is simply impossible for me, at the moment.” He hesitated for a moment before taking the woman’s hand in his, kissing it briefly, then setting it back down. “Of course, nothing against you, gorgeous.”

Despite the rush of vindictive amusement Chuuya felt at the awkward situation until now, his stomach churned as soon as the final words left Dazai’s lips. He should probably shut this down.

He got his dose of Dazai’s flustered embarrassment—now it was time for his dose of establishing what was his.

He swiftly crossed the short distance, settling himself just behind Dazai—taking a stance he was very familiar with at his partner’s right side. He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow at the woman in front of them.

Dazai had definitely noticed his presence with the way his shoulders tensed minutely, then dropped again. The woman, though, was staring at him like he’d crashed her birthday party.

“And you are…?” She prompted, tone sweet enough but with just enough of an accusatory undertone.

“I should be askin’ you that,” Chuuya replied, “considerin’ you’ve just tried to take what’s mine.”

He just about caught Dazai’s hand spasming a little, fingers clenching into a fist before forcefully relaxing again. Chuuya only hesitated for a split second before he took it, interlocking their fingers and giving Dazai’s hand a squeeze.

It was the woman’s turn to look like a deer in headlights. “Excuse me?”

Chuuya huffed. “You heard me. No offence or anythin’, but this?” He gestured between her and Dazai with his free hand. “…Won’t be going anywhere.”

Her eyes narrowed, annoyance sparking in them. Chuuya just met it head on, never one to back away from a challenge.

“You haven’t answered my question,” she said, briefly glancing to Dazai and their intertwined hands.

Chuuya grinned, but it was all teeth. “Ah, that’s on me.” He paused, taking a step forward to stand directly at Dazai’s side instead of a little behind him. He leaned forward, even, making sure he was heard.

“I’m his husband,” he practically seethed, through the grin. He would’ve added legally, if leaving it out didn’t feel so good. He stuck his free hand out in a mock-gesture of a handshake offer. “Lovely to meet you.”

The woman choked on a gasp, looking more gobsmacked than anyone Chuuya had ever seen. After a few seconds of stunned quiet, she opened her mouth for a probable retort, but Kunikida, bless the man, interrupted her.

“I must interrupt,” he said, then cleared his throat as he looked at the woman. “Miss, I believe you had a case for us. I can take it from here.”

Chuuya kept the merciless grin on his face as he gave Kunikida a curt nod. He didn’t show it beyond that, but he was sure the other man could feel the gratitude. The woman looked offended, astonished even, for a few short moments, before she seemed to pull her composure back together and clear her throat in return.

“Yes,” she said politely, even if the tight smile she wore told a different story entirely. “I believe you can.”

With one last withering look at Chuuya and mournful glance at Dazai, she resolutely turned away, trudging after Kunikida into a separate room. Try as he might, Chuuya couldn’t stop the rush of pride and satisfaction that filled him as he watched her not look back—not even once.

As soon as the pair were out of sight, Chuuya turned to his embarrassed, definitely-furiously-fighting-a-full-faced-blush partner.

“So,” Chuuya drawled, when Dazai stayed stubbornly silent. “Unavailable for a lover’s suicide, huh? That a new development?”

Dazai swallowed. “It’s recent enough.” He turned to face Chuuya properly, and despite the small patches of rose that were now leaking through on his cheeks, Dazai’s voice betrayed none of his obvious embarrassment.

“But really, Chuuya, I should be asking the questions,” he started, then paused. And, well, Chuuya would beg to differ, but—

“Yours?”

Now Dazai’s voice sounded odd, and Chuuya froze for a moment, analysing the beanpole’s expression. Then he shrugged despite the warmth creeping up his neck as a frown settled between his eyebrows. “Well you are, are ya not?”

Dazai smiled, an expression warm enough to heat up the whole room. There was no hesitation when he answered, “Of course.”

Chuuya mirrored the expression, but couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more rattling around Dazai’s mind. He was proven immediately correct when the taller man giggled.

“And Chuuya dares to deny he’s possessive.”

“I’m not possessive.” Chuuya scowled. “I just know what’s mine. That’s not bein’ possessive, that’s normal.”

“Normal,” Dazai teased, outwardly disbelieving. “Sure.”

“If anything, you’re the possessive one, freak,” Chuuya said, defensiveness building in his chest. He wasn't even sure why—possessiveness wasn’t much of a bad thing, was it? “Calling me your damn dog at every turn like I’m too stupid to see the double meaning?”

“Ah, double meaning?” Dazai asked, tilting his head innocently. It would’ve worked, maybe, on anyone else. “What double meaning?”

“I’m not indulging your shit,” Chuuya shut him down before he could inevitably rope Chuuya into a game of mental cat and mouse. “You know what I’m talkin’ about.”

Because as shameless as Dazai was about calling Chuuya his dog left and right, whether that be to annoy him or otherwise, the simple undertones of you’re mine and I had you first were hidden just a bit further underneath.

Dazai just hummed. “See, I would never deny that I’m possessive, I have no need to. I don’t share what’s mine. But you…”

He chuckled lightly, a knowing sparkle in his eyes as he tapped Chuuya’s nose, taking his hand away too quickly for Chuuya to smack it.

“Well, I won’t point out the obvious.” He smirked, an expression Chuuya unfortunately liked but was very much starting to hate in context. ‘The obvious’ could be referring to a lot of things, all of which could get Dazai punched, right about now.

Dazai certainly looked like he was going to say more, even opening his mouth, but visibly stopped himself before any words came out. Chuuya barely had time to react to the unnaturally long pause before Dazai was leaning forward, tipping Chuuya’s hat back just enough to press a kiss to the top of his forehead.

“Whatever the case may be,” Dazai said, smiling as he pulled back. “As long as you’re mine, I’m also yours. No need to worry~”

And if Chuuya’s face was beginning to heat up before, now it was certainly fully flustered as both the action and words processed in his head. By the time he got his act together enough to move, Dazai was already half-way out the door, waving Chuuya’s hat in his hand.

“Get back here, you sly bastard!” Chuuya exclaimed as he stomped after him. Still, he couldn’t help the swell of affection in his chest as he watched Dazai beam over his shoulder, that small crinkle in the corner of his eyes and the miniature dimples on his cheeks telling Chuuya there was nothing but unfiltered love and teasing behind the expression. He couldn’t help how despite faux-annoyance surging through him as he tried (and failed) to grab the hat back, his mind still preened with pride as Dazai’s genuine laugh spilled from his lips.

Yeah, Chuuya thought, gaze locked on Dazai. That’s mine.