Chapter Text
It's not every day you see a black car waiting outside your office building at the end of a work party. Dazai blinks, alcohol making his veins buzz as he stares at the ominous street marker. Upstairs, most of his co-workers are still celebrating Kyouka's welcoming to the agency, and he was on his way to his dorm, his social battery all but dead and no paid hours to keep him in place.
Now he stands on the street outside the dark café, reading and rereading the number plate and wondering (and knowing) what this specific car is doing here. Because he knows this car, knows even better the person it belongs to. And the knowledge both roots him to the spot and makes him want to bolt.
He walks forward slowly, only checking for moving cars as he crosses the street because now would be an inconvenient time to finally die, and stops right outside the driver's window almost automatically. The windows are tinted illegally dark, but not dark enough to obscure the driver from this distance, and Dazai's heart seizes in his chest when he finds familiar – and god are they familiar – blue eyes.
Chuuya is staring back at him from inside the car, one eyebrow raised expectantly. The brunette knows what he wants, he's been waiting for him to come collect his due after Lovecraft for days now, and somehow he still isn't prepared.
A jerk of the shorter man's head kick starts the detective's brain into action. Right, he needs to get in the car. They're too close to his work place full of mafia enemies for the red head to put his window down, and they can't talk here in the street anyway. Because that's what Chuuya wants; to talk.
There's a part of Dazai that wants to deny him. It's the same part that makes his fingers itch for the cool metal of a gun and makes his blood race at the sight of brain matter on concrete. It's also, funnily enough, the part of him that counts the scars on his arms and legs with a sick sense of glee that twists his insides into knots and says; 'there's a gap there.'
The brunette is learning to ignore that part of himself.
So, he climbs into the passenger seat and closes the door firmly. His heart is racing in his chest and he's letting it because he's terrified, but not afraid. He's nervous because his old partner has four years worth of questions for him to answer, and he doesn't know precisely what they are, or what the red head will think of the answers, but he's unafraid because he's been waiting to answer them.
These explanations are long overdue, and they've been stretching him thin with how much he wants to cut straight to the guts of them.
Dazai buckles himself in silently, because he knows the red head won't even touch the accelerator until he does, and turns to face his unannounced chauffeur with a smile. "What a pleasant surprise Chibi." He greets, to which the shorter man gives him a half smirk and an eye roll as he starts the car. "Yeah, I'm sure it is. Wouldn't be a surprise if you picked up your goddamn phone every once in a while."
It's only mostly annoyed, and not quite the truth. Chuuya hasn't called today, but the brunette doesn't call him out on it. However, he can't not tease his former partner, so he compromises. "Maybe I would if the hat rack wasn't wasted every time he called." He sasses. The red head pauses with both of his gloved hands on the wheel and looks over at him with disbelief, letting the silence drag out for a moment too long before he clicks his tongue. "Not every time." He mutters.
It's the detective's turn to stare. The shorter man had been genuinely reaching out to him before now, sometimes. But that isn't what truly surprises Dazai; it's the fact that Chuuya is openly, if quietly, admitting to it. This isn't how he thought tonight was going to go. The brunette thought he would be asked difficult questions he'll need a moment to form answers to, but ultimately, he'd make himself spill his guts so the executive could heal some wounds and leave him with his insides on the floor because he would deserve it for his betrayal.
He was never expecting Chuuya to return the vulnerability, but he is, and it's startling.
They're both silent while Chuuya pulls out onto the road and starts driving, but the atmosphere in the car feels charged, buzzing with things they both want to say. The detective almost wishes he'd drank more.
"We can either go to my place or a safehouse to have this conversation. It's up to you." The shorter man says right when the air feels like it's about to start crackling with electricity, and the calmness of his tone drains it all like a plug being pulled. His voice acts like an anchor in the midst of the confusion in the brunette's head, and it steadies Dazai enough for him to answer. "Your apartment sounds good. I wonder what's changed about your doghouse while I've been gone." He teases.
It earns him an affronted scoff, and the brunette just knows that there would be an extremely exaggerated eye roll to go with it if those stunning blue eyes didn't need to be focused on the road. "Oh my god. Shut up will you?" Chuuya groans, but it's brighter, less heavy, and the detective allows himself to snicker before conceding and closing his mouth for the rest of the trip.
There's no one around in the parking garage of the executive's building, and the pair remain undisturbed on their way through the garage and into the elevator. It's not too late at night, but nobody disturbs them there either, though that isn't too strange considering the red head's neighbours. The building is expensive, and everyone in it leads their own separate lifestyles of luxury; from successful businessmen and women to young couples with more money than sense.
Dazai supposes that he and Chuuya could almost fit into the latter option, but voicing that now after four years might just get him a bullet in the leg, so he stays quiet. The brunette follows the shorter man to the front door and waits patiently for him to open it, following behind at an appropriate distance.
Something under the detective's skin jumps when he walks past the red head after removing his shoes and the front door is locked behind him. It’s mostly soothed when Chuuya moves around him into the penthouse after taking his shoes off and turns the light on. His hat has been deposited on its hook already, and he cards one gloved hand through his hair with a tired sigh. There’s a pause, then the executive turns around and just looks at the brunette.
Nobody speaks, they just stand there, observing each other in the bright lights, and the almost stand-off gets the brunette’s adrenaline pumping involuntarily. Dazai has his back to the door. He’s closest to the escape route, the door is locked but not bolted, he’s not trapped, he’s able to leave if he wishes. But he looks at Chuuya and his feet feel frozen to the floor. Chuuya is waiting for him, he’s staying put, he locked the door to keep people out instead of Dazai in, he’s being patient, but one look at his face and the brunette knows immediately that this will only happen once, and his ex-partner will spend tonight crying at the bottom of a bottle if he leaves.
Again.
The thought appears and promptly nails itself into his head. He didn’t want to leave Chuuya four years ago, he hated it, every day he was tempted to go back for Chuuya, only for Chuuya, and damn the consequences. It was only Odasaku’s dying wish, that Dazai now recognises as a plea to save himself from his own destruction, that kept him away. But no one is laying bloody and dying in his lap this time, asking him to go (– go, please, save yourself –).
So, he stays.
Chuuya glances up after a few too many heartbeats of silence and abruptly turns around, making strides towards the lamp on a table.The brunette watches him and takes a half a step closer to the light switch in preparation. Dazai flips the switch as Chuuya turns the lamp on, and together they seamlessly sync the light change. It makes Dazai smile.
Chuuya is smiling a little too as he turns around, but it drops slowly as he moves back to the couch, eyes on the floor. He doesn't sit, so the detective takes a step towards him, but goes no further. Eventually, the red head's eyes raise again, and they make Dazai's breath catch in his throat.
Why must he be so beautiful...?
The brunette's face portrays nothing, so the executive takes a deep breath and starts talking. "Where the fuck have you been for the last four years Dazai?" He asks on an exhale. Dazai's eyes widen, he wasn't expecting that to be the red head's first question, but he swallows and opens his mouth anyway. "It's better you don't know." He answers quietly. He looks away when blue eyes narrow at him.
"What does that mean?" Chuuya responds suspiciously, and the brunette folds his arms over his chest for comfort. "The first thing you'll do is get mad at yourself for not thinking of it sooner, which would be pointless, because I went there so you wouldn't find me." Dazai mumbles out, just managing to be loud enough for the shorter man to hear. That nasty part of himself wants to bite through his tongue for saying that, but it becomes so much easier to ignore when Chuuya's eyes widen. He seems surprised by the raw honesty, which stings, but not in any way that's new or enough to really hurt.
Now that they've started though, the only way to go is forward. The red head visibly gathers himself before he continues. "I... I get why you left." Dazai's eyes widen and his lungs seem to seize in his chest. "What I don't get is why you did it without me, or even saying goodbye." Chuuya says defeatedly, crossing his arms over his chest as well. For comfort or defence, the brunette isn't sure, he's too busy keeping his heart going steadily to figure it out.
A moment passes. Then another. Too soon, it's been too long since the shorter man asked, and the detective still hasn't answered. So he forces his mouth open anyway and hopes that whatever comes out doesn't devastate them both. "The less you knew about my defection, the better." He starts firmly. He can tell that although the red head definitely doesn't like it, he agrees, and that's enough for now.
"And, well. We were always at odds with each other. I thought my decision to leave would be no different; that you'd fight me, or refuse if I asked you to join me. Even more than that, if you'd asked me to stay... I wouldn't have been able to say no." Dazai explains, feeling pathetic. Looking at his old partner's face is too much right now, the ceiling and walls are much more palatable, so he studies them instead.
Hearing a sigh sets the brunette's nerves on edge, and he feels himself tense in preparation. "Jesus... You know how much I hate admitting you're right about things." Chuuya grouses half-heartedly. It reins the detective's attention in like a gun going off, and his head swivels back towards the shorter man. He seems unbothered by Dazai's wandering eyes, standing with his arms still crossed and his own eyes closed. "I would have fought you on it, I fought you on practically everything. But I wouldn't have refused to leave, or asked you to stay." He admits.
Dazai’s eyes widen in surprise before he schools his expression, just in time for the red head to open his eyes again. He shakes his head, at himself or at Dazai, the taller man can’t tell. “Why didn’t you ask me anyway? It’s not like you to not try and orchestrate the results you want.” Chuuya asks back, and the brunette feels caught. In a lie, or a trap, he can’t tell. “The mafia is your family.” He mumbles. “I couldn’t take that from you.” Not again. It’s not said, but it’s heard.
The executive unfolds his arms and rests one hand on his hip. He frowns, considering for a moment. “So why did you? When we were kids. I’m not stupid enough to not realise Mori conducted all that bullshit with Rimbaud and the Sheep, but you’re smart enough to make up any number of excuses to get away with not succeeding.” The red head says with the least amount of accusation he can manage, but he has to know.
His old partner still feels fairly cowed. Chuuya is backing him into a corner and he doesn’t even know it. Dazai could make up a thousand excuses and each would be as believable as the last, but none of them would be the truth he promised himself he would provide until he says the words–
“I’m in love with you.”
Stunned silence seems to fill the room as they both realise what he just said. Those five simple words had escaped the brunette without his permission, and it’s all he can do to not have a panic attack then and there as he watches Chuuya’s expression change into one of shock and his arms go slack by his sides. “You… pushed me into the mafia…” The executive says slowly. Dazai wants to hide. “Because you love me?” He finishes on an exhale.
Dazai tentatively takes the lack of anger or disgust as a good sign, and when the red head doesn’t say anything else, he forces himself to answer. “I was working under orders, like you said, but… yes.” He almost chokes on the admission, but he gets it out, and hurries to keep speaking if only to delay the inevitable when Chuuya’s eyes widen further. “The only reason I didn’t half-ass the assignment was because the moment we met was the single most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me, I fell in love with you instantly.” The detective’s face heats up in embarrassment as he speaks and he averts his eyes, decidedly not ready to know what his old partner thinks about it.
Thankfully, the conversation takes a turn. “So, in the arcade, when you placed that bet about ‘doggy commands for life’…?” The executive mumbles out, just loud enough to hear and sounding almost dazed. Dazai has to smile the slightest bit. There's something adorable about how Chuuya remembers that seven years later, but Dazai chooses not to comment on that now and answers instead. “I was desperate to keep you around, and… I hadn’t yet remembered that…” He trails off, unsure how to finish or if he even should.
This time, Chuuya lets the silence sit for a moment, and the brunette takes the opportunity to look at him again. He’s not sure what to make of the look on the shorter man’s face, only that it’s not, negative. But it can’t last, because the red head’s eyebrow furrow curiously. “What? What hadn’t you remembered?” He prompts, not demandingly. Dazai swallows and this time doesn’t look away. “…I told Ango once, that ‘everything I never want to lose, is always lost.’ I have yet to be disproven.” He sighs softly at the frown on Chuuya’s face.
“When I first met you, I forgot that for a little while.” The detective finishes with a small shrug, and tries not to be hurt by the incredulous look on the red head’s face. “And once you remembered, what? You thought that I was going to die if you didn’t keep your distance?” He says it like a joke, but the silence is incredibly telling. Chuuya’s face falls. The taller man nods anyway, just to be sure his point gets across and a heavy breath escapes the red head across from him.
Dazai figures that he’s come this far, he may as well come completely clean, and opens his mouth one more time. “I… I love you too much to lose you, so I thought, if I couldn’t have you in the first place…” He swallows thickly and runs his tongue around the inside of his mouth to make sure the words don’t stick to it. It feels tacky and dry. “You can’t lose something you don’t have, so I pushed you away, because it was the only way I could think of to keep you safe.”
There's silence again, and then to Dazai's astonishment, Chuuya starts giggling. It begins as a subtle shaking of his shoulders, and the brunette would be worried he was crying if it weren't for the way Chuuya's lips twist up into an odd smile before he covers his mouth as the giggles grow stronger.
Eventually, it becomes apparent that the red head is trying to speak, but keeps getting interrupted by his own building laughter. "I-" He attempts, and is cut off by a snort, starting to laugh with his full chest as he uncovers his mouth. Which leaves his leather clad hand to dangle limp under his chin, and Dazai is utterly baffled.
"I w-wasted-" Chuuya has to pause to laugh some more, holding his stomach and almost doubling over with laughter while Dazai watches in amazed confusion, still tensed apprehensively. "I wasted six years pff- pretending to hate you." Chuuya starts laughing harder before he can say more, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.
Dazai can't tell if they're happy or sad as his own eyes widen in shock.
Pretending?
The red head is too busy throwing his head back and almost falling over from laughing so hard to tell him which, it almost makes Dazai start laughing too at how he stumble a little, but just almost. The brunette is too busy reeling at what Chuuya said to laugh.
Pretending? What?
Finally, Chuuya calms down enough to keep talking with a long, giggly sigh. "I can't believe I wasted six years pretending to hate you, when I could've just been more honest and spent them with you instead." Pretty blue eyes look up at Dazai, and he can't help but freeze. Those eyes still have tears in the corners, and the brunette still can't tell if they're happy or sad.
That was always so annoying about Chuuya; he's unnecessarily hard to predict. Every time Dazai thinks he knows the patterns off by heart, he does something unexpected. It drives him crazy, but in a good way that's all so uniquely Chuuya.
Chuuya blinks the tears in his eyes away just as Dazai opens his mouth to ask, and the red head smiles at him warmly in a way he hasn't before. Or... maybe he has, and the brunette had just never seen him do it? "I'm fine; I'm not upset." Chuuya answers before he's even asked the question.
Something starving in Dazai feels full at the fact that his old partner paid enough attention to know what he was going to say.
What used to feel like his logical, rational side snarls in his chest at the hint of vulnerability, insisting that Chuuya didn't need to pay attention, and that Dazai was just predictable. Nowadays, those 'logical, rational' thoughts and instincts feel more and more like Mori; telling him that emotion is a weakness, vulnerability a bright red target, and attachments an obstacle. It told him that being seen, by anyone, was going to cause him nothing but suffering.
Then Chuuya is standing up fully again, his hands on his hips as he takes another deep breath to calm himself all the way down, and Dazai is so, so weak. He's unbearably beautiful, Chuuya, even doing mundane things like breathing exercises. Dazai could stare at him forever, but eventually Chuuya will look back, and he'll have to look away before-
...Before he gets caught?
There's nothing to hide now, he realises. Dazai told Chuuya his big secret; he knows. Would Chuuya mind knowing he was staring? The brunette doesn't know that.
Dazai hates not knowing things.
"Hey, Dazai."
The world comes back into focus, and Chuuya is standing closer than he was before. Dazai wonders when he moved, when he got so lost in his own head that he didn't even notice. The red head is smiling again. "Y'know, for a genius, you're really obtuse. So I want you to promise me something." Chuuya starts, naturally making eye contact before looking slightly away. Dazai wonders when he started doing that too.
Chuuya's eyes close, and when they open again his expression is different; sterner, not mean, but more firm. Serious, the brunette's mind supplies. He stays quiet, waiting. "Promise you'll stop me if you need to. Promise me you'll move or push me away if you need to." Chuuya asks seriously.
Dazai is stunned. The red head is asking him to enforce boundaries if they're crossed, rather than adjust the boundaries to suit what Chuuya wants. Dazai's not used to that, he doesn't know what to do other than try to oblige. He can't do anything but nod, swallowing desperately in an attempt to make his voice work; nobody likes it when he doesn't answer verbally, a nod isn't enough for anything but to stall.
But then Chuuya is moving forward, one step, then two. They aren't his normal long strides, meant to keep up with whoever he's walking with. Or maybe this is his normal, this is Chuuya's normal pace, one that's him sized.
There isn't time to ponder it before Chuuya is close enough to reach out and touch. They're half an arms-length away from each other when he pauses, watching Dazai's face. The brunette's lips part in surprise. Chuuya didn't wait for Dazai to speak, he didn't expect him to. The red head's expression has gone soft, it feels... safe.
Sharp brown eyes watch in rapt attention as Chuuya's right hand lifts from its place at his side and moves towards Dazai's left, reaching for his hand. It feels like he's struggling to breathe, too afraid to disrupt whatever dream this is, when Chuuya's leather clad fingers gently curl under his palm and pull.
His fingers are shaking against Chuuya's as the red head raises their not quite joined hands between them. He's watching Dazai carefully, studying his face even as his thumb brushes over the back of his hand. Dazai shudders; it feels like an electric shock.
He loves it. He loves him. So much it feels like Chuuya is pulling his heart out of his chest towards himself.
Chuuya's grip, gentle as it is, loosens in response to Dazai's shudder, backing off carefully as the way he came. He stops when the brunette closes his own fingers around Chuuya's hand, interlocking their hands together properly.
Those stunning blue eyes never stop studying his face. Dazai never liked being stared at, but he couldn't imagine objecting to this. "Are you okay?" Chuuya asks quietly, not daring to move his hand in Dazai's grasp.
The brunette can't quite manage his smile, it feels wonkier than normal, like it's missing his usual easy grace. So, the wobbly little thing creeping up the sides of his face will have to do. Dazai smiles, and it isn't perfect, or pleasing enough to be pretty, but Chuuya smiles back anyway. Widely, and with love.
Dazai wonders how he knows that's what love looks like on Chuuya's face, but he's certain of it. It's too raw, too imperfect, too beautiful, to be anything else.
He nods to answer the red head's question, and Chuuya reaches for his other hand more confidently this time. Dazai meets him in the middle now that he knows what he wants, linking their hands together between them. Chuuya takes one more half a step forward, leaving their arms lax at their sides instead of hanging suspended as their chests almost touch.
Their height difference has never been more apparent. Chuuya's face tilts upwards and bares his neck while Dazai looks down to meet him, but it doesn't even occur to the brunette to tease him about it. He's distracted, too busy memorising every single detail of Chuuya's face this close to his, taking every crease of his lips and fleck of grey in the oceans of his eyes and burning them into his mind.
"Can I kiss you?"
The brunette's focus zooms out to take in all of Chuuya's face, and his question. He blinks while it processes, and when it eventually does all the air in his lungs escapes him at once with a single word on his lips.
"Yes." He gasps, utterly breathless already. Chuuya's lips tick upwards on one side in another small, lopsided smile.
He's been kissed before. Dazai has kissed many people, men and women alike, he knows what it's like, what makes a kiss bad or good, how a small nip makes his stomach twist pleasantly and too much tongue makes his mouth feel uncomfortably full.
But Chuuya leans in and suddenly it all feels brand new. Maybe because it is, maybe because it's Chuuya, it is new. Maybe because this time, it's someone he loves, not likes in passing or even hates, maybe that's why when their lips meet it feels like coming home.
Dazai doesn't even know when he closed his eyes, but the lack of one of his senses makes his others explode. Chuuya's lips, gloves, hands, pressed against his body. Chuuya's cologne, shampoo, body wash, filling his nose with his scent. Chuuya's lips against his taste faintly of his favourite red wine. He overwhelms Dazai's senses but the brunette doesn't care because he loves it.
Chuuya takes a deep breath in and hums, and it seems to send vibrations through Dazai's whole body, only calmed by the red head leaning closer and pressing their chests together. The added pressure feels grounding in amongst all the sensations, it makes them more bearable even though he'd never dream of pulling away or asking for it stop. Not yet, not now.
He's almost nervous that Chuuya will take it the wrong way, but he takes a deep breath of his own and gingerly pulls one of his hands away, tightening his hold on the red head's other hand in compensation and reassurance as Chuuya lets him go. Dazai lifts his newly free hand and uses it to hold onto the shorter man's shoulder, stroking the fabric of Chuuya's jacket for a moment to get used to it before settling.
Neither of them makes to break away, much to Dazai's relief. But he does feel the side of Chuuya's mouth tick upwards slightly again in a smile. The brunette copies the motion when he feels the pressure of Chuuya's hand, the one he let go of, against the side of his waist. It's careful, tentative, gentle, and Dazai squeezes his shoulder and hopes he makes sense when he says yes, please.
It's possible he does, because Chuuya squeezes his waist back before slowly beginning to slide his hand up over Dazai's (Odasaku's, it's Odasaku's) overcoat, then his vest. By the time Chuuya's bare fingers slow to a complete stop Dazai is shuddering again, and when had he taken his glove off.
The pads of Chuuya's fingers are soft and gentle over the edge of the bandages around Dazai's neck, and they make him shiver once more. The shorter man tilts his head into the kiss, deepening it without ever parting his lips as his fingers still against Dazai's skin.
It makes no sense for a mafioso's hands to be soft, let alone an executive with the title of best martial artist in the Port Mafia. But they are, if only his palms. Chuuya fights with closed fists, his knuckles and the backs of his hands are scarred with memories of blood and pain, but now when he slides the palm of his left hand up Dazai's neck, above his bandages, it's gentle, and kind.
This time there is no shiver when Chuuya moves his hand over the edge of the brunette's jaw and cups the side of his face, stroking his thumb over his cheek. Dazai isn't bored, not even a little, but he wants more. More of Chuuya's touches, more of Chuuya's love, more of Chuuya. So he tentatively parts his lips, unsure if that's welcome.
Dazai is thoroughly reassured when the red head mimics him and also parts his lips, but goes no further. The brunette will be embarrassed later that it took him until that point to realise that Chuuya is letting him set the pace, even if he isn't necessarily letting him lead. Chuuya's thumb strokes over his cheek again when Dazai leans further into the kiss, encouraging him to go as far as he pleases.
He does.