Thread by @arkastadt

AU in which Chuuya, who grew up in France after being adopted, takes a gap year in Japan as an au pair, and ends up living with Dazai and his family as his hosts.

The father, Tsushima Gen'emon, is the head of a highly successful hotel chain in Yokohama. Fumiko Hayashi is his wife, a fitness coach, and a chatty oddball. And then there are the kids. Ryuunosuke and Gin.

The two quiet six-year-olds that he's going to be taking care of for the next twelve months.

Yes, and Dazai Osamu. 21 years old, the one who will most likely inherit his father's business, and also someone who is /not/ Chuuya's problem.

Or, so he thinks.

"So you are the nanny."

Chuuya's heart freezes in his chest at the sudden voice behind him. It's two in the morning, and the only lights in the dark kitchen come from the open fridge and his phone lying on the counter, so when he turns around he barely recognizes the person.

His features are distinct though.

Messy, dark brown hair and a jawline that looks like it was carved by god herself.

Dazai was barely mentioned in the e-mails and phone calls with Hayashi, so Chuuya assumed he wouldn't be around much, being older and busy with his degree.

Meeting him in the kitchen on Chuuya's first night here is a surprise.

"Fuck," Chuuya hisses, clutching his chest. "You scared me."

Dazai's eyes narrow ever so slightly, and he tilts his head. "You're /French./"

Chuuya's not sure whether that's a question or an observation, but he's finally recovered enough from his heart attack to pick up on the first, frankly idiotic, comment. "Yes. And I'm not a nanny. I'm an --"

"-- au pair boy." Dazai waves his hand as if he's heard that correction a thousand times before, which is absurd considering this is their first-ever meeting. "Yeah, yeah. Same thing. You look after kids."

There really isn't much Chuuya can say against that because technically he's right, but still, there is a difference, especially when Dazai says the word nanny like that. As if it's something /embarrassing./

"Sorry," Chuuya snaps, "I didn't realize having to work for money is embarrassing now. My mistake to assume that we already left the whole classism thing behind us."

To his credit, Dazai doesn't look nearly as surprised or offended as Chuuya hoped he would.

Instead, his amusement only seems to grow. "Oh, he's funny too." Pushing Chuuya seamlessly out of the way with a hand on his shoulder, he opens the fridge and gets out a bottle of Ice Tea. "French, ginger /and/ a comedian. It's like you were made just for me."

Chuuya almost chokes on his spit. "Pardon me?"

"Well, you are here to look after the children, no?"

"Yeah, your /six-year-old/ siblings," Chuuya hisses. "Not you!"

Dazai leans back against the counter and shrugs. "Pity."

Shaking his head in irritation, Chuuya grabs his phone and turns to leave before he says something that will get him in trouble, but Dazai’s not done, apparently.

"What are you doing up so late anyway? You do know that my family likes to get up early, right?"

Chuuya's miserably aware of that -- another point on the list of things he'll just have to work out somehow. "Jet lag," he says, ignoring the heavy feeling of Dazai's gaze on him. "I couldn't sleep... what about you?"

"I had an appointment."

"At one in the morning?"

Dazai smirks. "Yes."

And /oh./ Chuuya rolls his eyes. How is it that they've known each other for less than five minutes and he not only feels like strangling Dazai already but also knows about his booty calls?

His fathers would probably say it's his little attitude problem but /come on./ It's like Dazai didn't even /try/ to be civil to the guy that's going to be living here for the next year.

"Well," Chuuya mutters, "whatever. Good night."

"See you in the morning, Chuuya ~"

Chuuya's pretty sure using his first name is an intentional show of disrespect, but he's too annoyed and too tired to do anything other than huff out a breath and leave. +

Thanks to the twenty alarms on his phone, Chuuya manages to wake up early in the morning even if it's awful, he feels like a zombie, and he'd rather sleep for another five hours. But he's supposed to officially meet the whole family at breakfast

since both, the father and Dazai were absent when Hayashi picked him up from the airport.

Obviously, he already had the pleasure of meeting Dazai last night, but he has a feeling that's going to stay a secret.

Chuuya doubts his parents will get to hear about their son's late-night adventures.

Still having half of his things to unpack, he rummages through his suitcase for something to wear and then gets ready in the bathroom before finally looking somewhat decent.

Judging by the sounds coming from the kitchen, it sounds like basically everyone's awake already. Everyone, Chuuya notices, stepping inside, except for Dazai.

"Good morning."

"Oh," Hayashi says, closing the fridge with a brilliant smile, "you're awake. Chuuya-kun, I would like you to meet my husband. Gen'emon Tsushima." She gestures between them. "Darling, this is the newest addition to our little makeshift family. Nakahara Chuuya."

Gen'emon Tsushima is a very fine-looking man in his fifties with short dark hair and wearing a flawless black suit that looks like it costs more than everything Chuuya owns. Dazai’s resemblance to him isn’t hard to miss either. +

They both have sharp, striking features and give off an aura of arrogance and authority that makes everyone else in the room seem small and insignificant. Even as he gives Chuuya a nod, he feels scrutinized from top to bottom.

"Welcome. I hope you enjoy your stay at my house."

Chuuya bows his head. "I'm really thankful to be here."

Sure, he's working for them, so it's not like they're housing him for free, but Chuuya supposes a bit of gratitude won't hurt, especially in a family like this.

Not everyone gets a private bathroom, and from what's he's seen so far, the family is really friendly -- well, except for Dazai --

"How rude ~"

Speak of the devil.

Just as Chuuya sits down, Dazai appears in the room, wearing a suit just as fine, if not even finer, as his father and a sharp smile on his lips. "No one bothered to wake me up, but lucky for all of you, I'm here anyway."

The reactions to that are oddly varying.

Hayashi's face lights up into a beaming smile. Little Ryuu's eyes widen a bit as he looks at Dazai. Gin just continues eating. Tsushima scowls at his phone.

As everyone settles around the table, Dazai basically steals his mother's spot, only to end up sitting next to Chuuya.

"I know you're an early bird, so I didn't think it was necessary to wake you up," Hayashi says, then turns to Ryuu. "Are you sure you don't want more tea, honey?"

Ryuu shakes his head.

A moment later, their personal chef, a man who introduced himself as Yuki yesterday, places a cup in front of him anyway.

"Drink," she instructs. "It will soothe your sore throat."

"So Chuuya," Dazai says, and his pulse immediately spikes, "how exactly did you end up here?"

Dazai's father clears his throat. "Son, how about you introduce yourself first?"

"Oh, but I did already. Yesterday. We met when Chuuya was ravaging our kitchen at one in the morning."

Chuuya curses silently. /Ravaging?/ Fucking really?

"I'm sorry," he presses out, "I couldn't sleep because of the time difference and wanted something to dr--"

Hayashi waves him off. "Please. You're supposed to feel at home, honey."

"And what exactly were /you/ doing at one in the morning, Dazai?" Tsushima asks.

"Getting myself a glass of water, thank you very much. So!" He turns back to Chuuya. "I'm all ears."

Stalling for time and patience, Chuuya takes a sip of his tea. "Well, I've always wanted to take a year abroad, especially in Japan, so the program seemed like the best choice."

"Why didn't you attend University?" Dazai prods. "Were your grades too bad?"

"My grades were /fine/," Chuuya says calmly even though he feels himself start losing patience. Sure, he wasn't the smartest person in his year,

but what he lacked in cleverness, he made up in discipline and studying. "I just wasn't ready to pick something to study for the next six years, and I've always wanted to take a year abroad."

It's only the partial truth, but they don't need to know that.

At that, Tsushima sets down his cup of coffee with more force than necessary before leveling a cold glare at his son. "That's enough. Either you behave yourself in front of our guest, or you leave the table."

It's funny, really, because it feels like Dazai, a twenty-year-old guy, should be too old for behavior like this, but even though he doesn't lose his smugness, he, at least, turns his gaze back to his plate and remains quiet.

Chuuya's not particularly happy that Tsushima had to step in -- the questions weren't /that/ bad, but he does enjoy the lack of words out of Dazai's mouth.

Hayashi fills the awkward silence that descends over the table by going over the children's schedule.

Since the family has a cook and cleaning staff, Chuuya's main job is to take care of the kids: getting them ready for school, picking them up, and, according to Hayashi, being a /big brother/, which seems rather absurd, given that one is sitting right over there, but /oh well./

After breakfast, Tsushima excuses himself and disappears into his office, Dazai wordlessly gets up, and Hayashi turns to Chuuya.

"It's Sunday," she says, "so the kids have the day off. How about I show you around Yokohama for a bit?

You can see the city. We can get your subway ticket, and oh, there's a wonderful little market right nearby. You really have to try some of the food!"

Chuuya smiles. "I'd like that."

Back at home, his fathers have always tried their best to incorporate Japanese dishes into their cuisine, and once Chuuya was old enough to cook, he looked up youtube tutorials and recreated them, but he felt like it never came that close to the real deal.

"Kids get dressed."

"I don't wanna," Ryuu mumbles, shoving his plate away and looking at his lap. His sister tugs at his sleeve then, and when he looks at her, she tilts her head, blinking. After a moment, he lets out a sigh. "Fine."

Chuuya watches them leave, bemused, before getting up himself.

"Leave the dishes," Hayashi says, waving her hand, and then her phone buzzes, and she frowns at it. "Oh, no."

"Is everything all right?"

"There's an issue with one of my clients. I... I have to leave."

She sighs, worrying her lip, and looks around the room before narrowing in on someone -- Dazai. Chuuya was sure he was gone by now, but he's standing near the coffee machine, intently gazing at his phone, unaware that he's just become a target.

Already knowing where this is going, Chuuya lets out an annoyed breath. "Osamu, honey. Will you come here for a sec?"

Dazai turns their head to them lazily and then saunters over, offering his mother a smile that's clearly only there for show. "What is it?"

"Are you free for the next..." Hayashi glances at the watch around her wrist and considers her words. "... let's say, two hours?"

"Depends on what you want me to do."

His reply isn't even tinted in false politeness, but her genuine smile never wavers.

"Can you please show Chuuya-kun around? Get him his tickets? I would, but I really, really need to get to work, or that hag of a client will muder me."

Dazai makes a show of thinking about it. Chuuya has the strange urge to strangle him.

"Okay," he finally says, "but you owe me."

Hayashi beams. "I do. Thank you so much, darling! The kids will be ready any minute now." She leaves the kitchen already dialing a number on the phone, leaving Chuuya alone with Dazai. Again. Great.

"The brats are coming?" Dazai asks then, and Chuuya can't help but snort.

"Yeah, your /siblings/ are coming. Speaking off, I will make sure they're... doing all right."

As he walks down the hallway, he feels the heavy gaze of two eyes on his back.

After slipping into clothes that are more suitable for the weather outside, so a high-collar shirt and black jeans, he knocks on Ryuu's door and finds him more or less destroying his room just to find a pair of socks. He ends up crawling under the bed to retrieve them.

Then they get Gin, who's lying on her bed and dreamily staring at the ceiling. Finally, all three of them descend the stairs to meet Dazai waiting for them in the foyer.

Judging by the expression on his face Dazai's even less happy about this than Chuuya

even though he was more than talkative just an hour ago -- not to mention last night. Though, he has a feeling that has more to do with the kids, which is... weird. They're his siblings.

Then again, Chuuya has yet to see Dazai spare a single glance in their direction, let alone exchange words with them.

This is going to be just great.

"Ready?" he asks once he's slipped into his coat and docs.

Dazai doesn't bother to answer; he just opens the door. +

For a while, they just walk in silence, which would be awkward if Chuuya cared, but as it is, he's too busy taking in his surroundings. His arrival yesterday was too much of a hectic blur to properly look around, but now he can and it's beautiful.

So different from the neighborhood he grew up in, and even more different from the dreams in his head every time he went to sleep and wondered what it would have been like to grow up in the place he was born instead of Paris. This is /real./

Ryuu and Gin are walking ahead of them, probably already knowing the way to the subway. They look like tiny business people in their coats.

And then Dazai shatters the peaceful silence by opening his mouth. "What's wrong with your leg?"

Despite his best efforts, Chuuya feels his entire body tense. "You don't have any sense of tact, do you?"

"Only if I deem it necessary."

Chuuya snorts dryly and swallows down the hot, derelict anger in his throat. It's /fine/. It really is. "Accident."

"What kind of accident?" Dazai inquiries.

"A dancing one."

"You dance?"

It's not Dazai's tone that's annoying. Chuuya's lived through enough /oh, you -- a guy -- dance?/ moments in his life to accept that the reaction's going to be the same every time.

That's not the reason why his muscles feel raw all of a sudden. "I did," he says and straightens his spine, just so that, even if he feels small and exposed right now, he doesn't look like it.

Dazai takes his answer with a thoughtful hum.

It /should/ be the end of this stupid conversation, but it isn't. /Really/, by now, Chuuya should know better.

"I see how it is then," Dazai drawls. "So you're an aspiring dancer, but an injury gets in the way of your big dream, and

because it suddenly leaves you without any options, you decide to take a year off and become an au pair. Wow, amazing. It's like you were written straight out of a coming of age novel."

Chuuya blanches. What... who the hell does Dazai think he is?

"Shut up," he finds himself hissing, "you have no--"

"--idea who you really are?" Dazai finishes, tilting his head. "Please, could you be any more stereotypical?"

It sucks that Chuuya actually meant to say that.

What sucks, even more, is that Dazai somehow read the last year of his life in seconds, even if this /trivia/ the bastard just discovered is now Chuuya's entire life. Because he did have to give up his spot in the dancing academy.

Because every single plan he had for his future and career did burst like fucking bubbles. Because it did change the course of his life so deeply and profusely that Chuuya lost /months/ in bed, being angry, so fucking angry that everything else became unimportant.

"You put two and two together," Chuuya snaps. "Good for you, asshole. I hope you choke on this information."

All Dazai does, though, is wave him off. "Relax. I would have found out one way or another eventually. Better to get all the dirty laundry out of the way now, no?"

It's not... dirty laundry. It's Chuuya's life. Something he has to live with every day. And it's not a fucking joke.

But he supposes telling that to an asshole like Dazai is futile.

Letting out a breath, Chuuya stuffs his fists into the pockets of his coat.

"Huh?"

"Your dirty laundry," he clarifies, keeping his voice even. "You have all the money in the world, yet you treat your family like shit. Did they not give you enough attention as a kid or something?"

"Fumiko is not my mother, and these two brats are not my siblings."

Chuuya's brows crease. "So just because they're adopted, and Hayashi's your step-mother, they're not your family?"

"Precisely."

"That's fucking stupid."

"Call it what you want, chibi. It doesn't change the fact that none of these people deserve any kindness from me."

That's even more stupid. Ryuu and Gin are /children/ for fuck's sake.

"Is that why you go by Dazai then?"

"Mm. It was my mother's name."

"Who's the one being stereotypical now," Chuuya mutters and kicks a pebble with his healthy leg even though Dazai looks annoyingly unruffled by the topic.

"If you want some actual dirty laundry, you'll just have to dig a bit deeper, chibi."

/Chibi?/

"What?"

Dazai turns to him, brow raised.

"What was that word? /Chibi?/"

Asking this question feels like losing some sort of weird underlying battle that has been going on between them the moment they first met, but Chuuya's never heard the word /chibi/ before... he thinks. Not in the lessons he took, in the words he looked up or in the books he read.

And he can't go around with Dazai calling him things he doesn't know the meaning of.

The asshole's smile sharpens ever so slightly. "Oh, that? It's like me saying... /mon ami/."

Chuuya's eyes narrow. "You speak French?"

"I had to pick two foreign languages for my degree."

Interesting, but not surprising. Still, Dazai's stupid answer sounded off. For all Chuuya knows, it could be a load of horse shit.

"So if I google the word," Chuuya says slowly, "will it confirm what you just told me?"

Dazai shrugs. "Sure. I think you require data for that, though."

/Damn it./

With a sigh, Chuuya rolls his eyes and decides to trust him. /For now./

He'll look up the actual meaning back in his room where he has wifi.

The rest of the walk to the subway isn't... that bad. Dazai's kind of entertaining when he's not busy being a pretentious jerk and Chuuya finds himself snorting out laughter every now and then at

his morbid sense of humor.

Not to say that Chuuya's /enjoying/ his presence because fuck no. He knows guys like Dazai all too well. Rich, spoiled brat who's blinded by all his money to recognize how good he has it.

And he knows the /other/ side of guys like him even better. Their pretty faces and pretty words that make everything they say sound like sex -- and Chuuya can't think about sex every time he's supposed to do his job as an au pair here, /especially/ not with his little problem.

Or, well, inclination.

Whatever. Dazai's probably straight anyway. Casting a glance towards him, Chuuya frowns. He /looks/ straight. Kind of.

Dazai explains the subway system in a few brief sentences, buys him the one-year-ticket, then takes all of them to the market one station away. Funny. Chuuya was sure he wouldn't bother with that, but maybe --who is he kidding it's most likely what happened --Hayashi bribed Dazai

while Chuuya was getting dressed. Anything else wouldn't make sense.

Chuuya's still eating when Dazai discards his rice balls -- even though he was far from finished -- in the closest trash can and gives him a look. "So what do you think?"

"Uh," Chuuya chews and swallows, noticing Ryuu do the same with his poor food before he frowns at Dazai, "it was good. Delicious."

Dazai only raises his brows.

"What?"

"And of your host family? Yokohama? Me?"

Oh. "Your family's really nice. You, on the other hand..."

Surprisingly, that elicits a warm chuckle from Dazai as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his super fancy, black coat. "Don't worry, chibi. You'll come to love me eventually."

"Yeah," Chuuya scoffs and shakes his head, "I highly doubt that."

Dazai's gaze is dizzyingly intense as he says, "And I love a good challenge."

--

Slowly Chuuya settles into a routine.

He wakes up at half-past six -- even if it takes him twenty alarms and a shit ton of pep talks every time, wakes Ryuu and Gin, makes sure there's something to eat for them, wakes Gin again because she likes sleeping in as much as he does,

eats breakfast, and then it's time for school. Getting them dressed, especially Gin, whose choices in clothes drastically vary between all-black outfits and pink dresses and skirts every day, takes much more time and effort than one might think.

So by the time they're out of the door, they have to hurry quite a bit. The school's only a good five-minute walk away but add two kids that get distracted by funny-looking sticks on the ground and suddenly it's a fifteen-minute one. When he has time, he grabs Diablo, the dog, to

beat two sticks with one stone. Mostly, Ryuu and Gin are enough as it is already, though.

The fun part starts when the kids are in school. Usually, Chuuya would have had house duties, make lunch or clean their rooms, but the family's staff takes care of all that, so

it gives him some free time for himself. More often than not, he takes a nap because /duh/. When he's energized on coffee, though, he explores Yokohama instead, throwing all the money he saved out of the window like a lunatic every time he enters a store.

Chuuya's well aware he could have bought chain belts and fishnet tights back at home -- god, he already has six pairs... but somehow they look even more appealing here. He also facetimes a lot with his dads, homesickness slowly catching up to him.

At two, it's time to pick up the kids, make them eat lunch, and then make sure they're on time for their individual violin and piano lessons.

He barely sees Tsushima, but Hayashi makes an effort to be there for her kids as much as possible; Chuuya can see that.

Dazai's... well, Dazai has a room in the house, though Chuuya hasn't had any reason to enter it so far -- and neither does he plan to, but he's rarely around anyway. He only sees Dazai here and there in-between grocery-runs with Diablo, and at ungodly hours at night

when no one else is awake in the house.

One morning, when Chuuya's stumbling to the kitchen, still half-asleep, he almost runs into Dazai. He has to blink several times before realizing that one: Dazai's half-naked, only a black towel around his hips, and two: not half-naked

after all. His entire body, up to his neck and hands, is covered in white bandages.

"What --" Chuuya starts, brows furrowing, and stops short. "Are you hurt?"

Dazai offers him a glazed smile, which, even before he opens his mouth, makes Chuuya feel stupid just for asking.

Fuck him. "Not where it matters."

The reply, the bandages, and fuck -- everything else about Dazai is cryptic, so Chuuya simply arches one brow, and for one drawn out moment, they just stand there. Staring.

Then Dazai reaches out and tugs at one of the strands that stick up from all over his head.

Chuuya slaps his hand away.

Later, when he manages to wake up Gin and drag her out of bed, he only hears the door fall shut, and for the next few days, Dazai is nowhere to be seen,

which, according to Hayashi, is a common occurrence around here.

Chuuya has been in Yokohama for almost two entire weeks when Friday rolls around and with that, a breakfast table that's occupied by all five members of the family -- even Diablo, who's loitering around nearby

and gnawing at a bone.

Hayashi's the one doing most of the talking, and since Chuuya likes her -- and takes pity on her -- he indulges in whatever topics she brings up, no matter how tedious or out of his range of interests.

Ryuu and Gin aren't big talkers aside from occasional grumbling, and neither are Dazai and his father -- to his family, at least, since Tsushima spends a lot of time taking phone calls. Very busy man.

That said, he isn't surprised that when Dazai casually mentions he's invited to a birthday tomorrow, Hayashi immediately follows up with, "Oh, you should bring Chuuya-kun!"

Surprised? No. But very, very annoyed.

"I don't think that's necessary," Chuuya says, faking a smile.

"Believe me, it /is./ I know you have a job here, but you're also in Japan to see the world! Meet new people! And how many have you met, pray tell?"

Chuuya's lips press together. Well, if she says it like /that./

It's not like he doesn't want to meet people.

Fuck, he absolutely does. Spending all year holed up in this house is not on his to-do list, but... meeting new people in a country that's /technically/ his too, but not /really/, is more challenging than he expected it to be.

His accent is glaringly apparent, and even though Chuuya, somewhere in the back of his mind, knows that he shouldn't feel like a stranger or a tourist here, he still does because, in the end, he grew up in France with two French fathers and French friends and a French boyfriend

and even a french fucking bulldog -- no offense to Baki, though. She's a treasure, and he misses her like crazy.

"I'm still getting settled in."

That, and Chuuya just doesn't want to spend an entire night with Dazai.

It just sounds like the recipe for a disaster.

"Come on," Hayashi says with a grin, then turns to Dazai. "Osamu, you wouldn't mind, would you?"

Everything about Dazai's expression radiates, /yes, he would./ What comes out is, "Not at all. I have /delightful/ friends."

"That birthday isn't the time for your childish jokes," Tsushima suddenly says, and Chuuya can't help but frown at the sudden grave depth of his tone. "Don't do anything stupid."

"Who, me?" Dazai asks innocently. "I wouldn't dare."

If possible, his father's glare only intensifies. "Be responsible for once in your life."

At that, Dazai's smoldering gaze travels to Chuuya, and he cocks his head. /Daring him./ "Naturally. The question is: will Chuuya even come?"

He should say no.

He wants to say no.

But Chuuya has never been good at backing down from a fight before, and he's not going to start now. /So./

"Sounds good."

"Then it's a date."

+

After dinner, Chuuya refuses to think about stupid Dazai and his damn party more than necessary. He has a free evening, and he intends to spend it wisely. But, of course, Dazai even crosses /this/ plan by preventing the door in Chuuya's room from falling shut with his foot,

leaning against the doorframe with a bemused look.

"What?" Chuuya asks, exasperated.

"You don't sound very excited for someone who gets to go to an exclusive party tomorrow. With /me./"

Chuuya scoffs. "I've been to birthday parties, so I don't see any reason to piss my pants over it."

"Well, you should. I'm very fun."

"Yeah, your father seems to think so too."

If it strikes a nerve, Dazai doesn't show, his smirk only deepening.

"It's a black and white party. I hope you have something to wear."

Oh, he has. Chuuya has quite a few obsessions, including clothes. The two gigantic suitcases lying in the corner of his rooms are proof of that.

"Don't worry."

"Be ready by nine tomorrow."

Chuuya nods and then, being the polite person he is, he holds up the door for Dazai to point him where to go. Namely out. "/Goodbye./"

--

As promised there is a knock at his door at point nine o'clock, and Chuuya opens to see Dazai. His gaze on him is nothing short of appreciative.

"Ah. I approve."

That was the point when Chuuya picked out the skintight leather pants and silk shirt -- all black, obviously. But.

"No one asked," Chuuya huffs and deliberately doesn't look at Dazai -- even though he /could/, and there's a lot to appreciate in his all-white outfit and the hair that's delicately tucked behind his air. /So much to appreciate./

"Are you always this grumpy, or am I the only one who gets the honor?" Dazai asks as they walk down the hallway. "Because the people I associate with are fun, but they also appreciate courtesy."

That manages to put a damp on Chuuya's satisfaction, and he forces himself to relax his jaw muscles. "I'm not grumpy, I'm just --"

"Rude? Opinionated? Easy to irritate?"

"Are you trying to be a dictionary or a person?"

"Add /funny/ to the list."

"I'll play nice," Chuuya snaps, which kind of contradicts his point, "because I /am/ nice. Your mother likes me. And so do the kids. Everyone but--"

"But me? I would, but you keep barking at me like a rabid dog, chibi, and I would prefer not to get bitten."

"Maybe if you stopped interrupting me every three seconds."

Grabbing keys off the counter and opening the door, Dazai offers him a wide smile. "Deal. I let you finish your sentences, and your sentences stop barking at me every two seconds."

"Whatever," Chuuya murmurs, and then stops because there are a car and a freaking chauffeur waiting for them outside. "Really?" he asks, shooting Dazai a look. "You can't drive yourself?"

"We're going to a party with alcohol," Dazai tells him with that air of /obviously/ in his look, "and I'm not planning to lose my driver's license again any time soon."

Pretentious... but valid.

(Wait. /Again?/)

The car starts moving softly as soon as they close the doors; Chuuya watches the neighborhood disappear.

"So, who's the birthday kid?"

"His name's Fitzgerald. He's from New York but here for business. Turned 25 a few days ago. A humongous douche."

"If he's a douche," Chuuya says, "why are we going?"

Dazai looks at him like he just asked whether the earth is flat. "Because he knows how to throw a good party." When Chuuya only huffs in reply, he adds, "And because my father likes to keep his potential partners close."

Ah. That makes more sense.

"What are you giving the douche then?" ...and should Chuuya have brought something as well?

"A white stallion."

He almost chokes on his spit. "What?"

Dazai's eyes crinkle in visible amusement. "I heard he likes to play Polo in his free time."

"Yeah, and I like looking at diamond chokers on Pinterest," Chuuya mutters and waves his hand through the air. "I'll send you a link, so you know what to buy me for my birthday."

"That depends on how nice you will be tonight."

"Oh, I can be nice."

He's not necessarily dying to have bathtubs full of money -- there are obviously more important things in life -- but it sure sounds nicer to do that while wearing pretty clothes and expensive, shiny chokers, right?

If it weren't for the dozen cars parked in front of the building, it wouldn't seem like a location to throw a gigantic party, but as it is, there are lots of them, and all kinds of people dressed in a mix of black and white clothes waiting to get inside.

"Looks more like a club than a birthday party," he remarks when Dazai's driver -- a bald man with rigid lines on his face but a warm smile -- lets them out in front of the stairs that lead up to the entrance.

"Because his parties are better than any club."

Chuuya's not surprised that Dazai casually leads the two of them past the line of people, and after saying his name to the three bodyguards, they get to enter without any more preamble.

The walls are apparently thick enough to conceal loud sounds because the music that's booming through the speakers inside is deafening. There's an escalator that takes them up, and then they're there, a frankly overwhelming crowd of black and white greeting them.

"And?" Dazai nudges his side with his elbow and leans close to his ear. "Just like the birthday parties you've been to?"

Chuuya softly hits him back. "Gloating doesn’t look good on you, asshole."

"Don't forget our deal. Be nice."

"I am," he says, holding his gaze. "Think of me saying /asshole/ being like me saying /mon ami/. That's nice, isn't it?"

Dazai's smirk stretches. "You're interesting, Chuuya. I like that."

He bites down another rude reply and just nods towards the party that's waiting for them, feeling like he already needs a cold shower. This is why he thought this was a bad idea. /Dazai and everything about him/ is a bad idea. "Lead the way then."

Dazai does. Towards the bar.

It's packed with people, but the bartender is quick and efficient so they only have to wait for a few seconds before it's their turn. Dazai signals something that Chuuya doesn't really understand then arches a brow for him to do the same.

It doesn't feel like a cozy night to enjoy a glass of wine, and if he's honest, Chuuya doesn't really have any clue about drinks and cocktails. His experience back home was limited to getting trashed by mixing vodka with juice or just drinking shots since he wasn't old enough

for bars and clubs, and then the accident happened and even though he was finally 18, the last thing on his mind was going out. To fancy schmancy parties, at least.

"Tequila?" Chuuya says and cringes at how unsure he sounds. He clears his throat. "A shot of tequila, please."

The bartender nods at two different bottles, asking a silent question. Right. "The white one."

When he turns back to Dazai, there's an annoyingly bemused expression on his face. "I thought you've been to birthday parties before?"

"Oh, shut up."

"This isn't your first time drinking, right?"

Chuuya shoots him a glare. "/No!/"

Thankfully, the bartender slides their drinks over, and Chuuya has an excuse to look away from Dazai and throw the shot back. This is definitely /not/ his first rodeo.

Though he will have to be careful since his tolerance isn't exactly... high, and Chuuya doesn't plan to let Dazai see him completely trashed.

He has a dignity to preserve here.

+

That doesn't stop him from ordering a second shot, just to ease some of the tension that seems to have found a home in him.

"Well, if this isn't the prodigal son," a voice suddenly says behind Dazai. "I wasn't sure if you'd show."

Chuuya watches Dazai turn around, his face morphing into a smirk. "Ranpo-san," he says with an acknowledging nod. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."

The man -- Ranpo -- scoffs at that, then shoots a glance towards Chuuya. "Who's your boy toy over there?"

Chuuya scowls.

"I'm his /au pair./"

"Chuuya here is the au pair at home," Dazai confirms nonchalantly. "I'm giving him a break from the tedious routine of looking after the brats and playing scribble with Hayashi."

Ranpo /oh/s. "How are you liking it so far?"

Chuuya's about to reply with something about the lack of manners of the people he's met, but remembers his stupid deal with Dazai just in time to bite his tongue. Yeah, no, he promised to play nice. "It's great," he presses out. "I love it."

"You're still alive. That must mean something," Ranpo remarks like he didn't say anything at all, making Chuuya's brows furrow even more.

"I promised Chuuya my wonderful friends," Dazai says, pushing away from the bar. "Where is Akiko?"

"Busy, but the others are at the buffet. You should really try the chocolate parfaits."

Dazai lets out a sigh. "I guess they'll have to do." Turning to Chuuya, he raises one brow and tilts his head invitingly. "Ready?"

"Sure."

Following their lead, Chuuya can't help but appreciate Ranpo's pitch black suit from behind. He might be kind of weird, but, at least, he makes a pretty sight.

They weave through the thick crowd and Ranpo steers them towards a group of young people gathered around a high table.

"Look, who I found," Ranpo announces as he squeezes himself between two people.

"A bucket?" a guy with a long, blond ponytail with glasses asks. "Because Tanizaki is about to throw up."

"Even better."

"A glass of water?" A redhead moans and lifts his head to smile weakly at Dazai. "Hello, Dazai-san. You don't --" He hiccups. "-- happen t'have a glass of water?"

Dazai frowns. "Someone just give the poor guy some water."

"Oh, I can do that," a blonde girl volunteers. "By the way, i-it's good to see you again, Dazai-san!" She's off before anyone can even reply, though.

Well... Chuuya expected spoiled trust-fund brats. This must be the uncensored version of that.

"Chuuya," Dazai, not all to gently pushes him forward, "meet Kunikida and Tanizaki. Kunikida and Tanizaki, meet Chuuya. He's an au pair."

"Chuuya!" Tanizaki exclaims enthusiastically. "I swear to you, I'm usually n'like th--" He lets out a burp into his hand. "--not like this!"

"Hey, it's cool," Chuuya says, giving him an awkward smile. "We've all been there."

"Some of us more than others," Kunikida sighs. "So you live at the Tsushimas?"

"Yup."

"I hope Dazai and his antics haven't scared you off then. +

Yokohama is a great city and this is probably a wonderful opportunity for you."

"Kunikida-kun~" Chuuya hears Dazai next to him. "Ye of little faith."

"I have exactly the right amount of faith in you. So," he turns back to Chuuya, "where are you from? France, I assume?"

"Yeah. Paris."

"What are your thoughts on your new president?"

"Uh," Chuuya blinks, not sure how they suddenly arrived at the topic of politics. "He's all right, I guess...?"

"You're boring him to death, Kunikida-kun," Ranpo interjects as he shoves his spoon into a parfait.

Have you seen the bouncy castle?"

"There's a bouncy castle?" Chuuya asks.

"Don't go there'fter eight cocktails!" Tanizaki warns him. "Or you'll get very very sick."

Kunikida shakes his head, looking like a disappointed mother. "Or, simply drink responsibly."

Ranpo ignores both of them and winks at Chuuya instead. "There's also a chocolate fountain, a nap room, a karaoke station, and a photo booth. I can show you around if you want."

Oh.

Chuuya's about to reply with /something/ when the blonde girl from before comes back,

carrying a bottle of water and a plate of food. "I come bearing presents!"

"That's Higuchi," Dazai tells him before taking a sip of his drink that he must have brought along, making Chuuya crave more, too.

Even though Tanizaki is the perfect example of how he /doesn't/ want to end up tonight, he feels way too sober for this group of people -- and this entire party, really.

"I need another drink," Chuuya says.

"Me too," Ranpo says. "Bring me something sweet."

/Bruh./

"And I need to deal with something," Dazai murmurs, staring at something or someone in the crowd before his eyes flicker to Chuuya. "Will you be okay here for a minute?"

Chuuya rolls his eyes jokingly. "Sure. Go on."

Dazai pushes away from the table with a nod, +

and makes his way through the crowd. Only then Chuuya notices that he's steering towards two people next to the buffet -- a tall blonde guy talking to a girl with a bob, wearing a glittery black mini dress.

The next half hour is a chaotic mess of trying to keep up with Dazai's friends. After Higuchi introduces herself, she's kind enough to order drinks for Chuuya and Ranpo, then some other people arrive, Tanizaki starts singing in his alcohol-induced coma, +

and Chuuya keeps having to explain to strangers that he's an au pair and that he's from France. The reactions to his connection to Dazai Osamu drastically vary, some people saying that he's /so/ lucky, and others just giving him a pitying pat on the shoulder.

And then all of a sudden the music comes to a screeching halt, lights dimming everywhere around them.

"Oh," Kunikida mutters, pushing up the glasses on his nose. "This again."

"I love this part," Higuchi says with an excited grin.

Chuuya feels incredibly /lost./

"What's happening?" he asks.

"Fitzgerald holds /games/ at his parties," Ranpo explains, "but it's not that interesting. Only really relevant for -- well, for people like you."

"Huh?"

"Just listen."

The stage -- that Chuuya hasn't even noticed until now -- lights up with a bunch of special effects, illuminating one man standing there.

Actually, Chuuya realizes, it's the same guy Dazai went to talk to earlier and still hasn't returned from.

"Hello. Hi. Welcome."

The guy who must be none other than Fitzgerald is speaking into a microphone, though his voice is /heard/ everywhere. Probably even outside. "Thank you all for joining my wonderful, little party, and all your lovely presents. I'm not planning to hold a grand speech because +

we all know what's coming, so let me jump straight to the point. This year's game is a lottery... with a twist. All of you will get a sticker with a number on it --" On cue, several girls in white angel-costumes appear out of seemingly /nowhere/ and just start sticking +

round stickers with a number on it to people's clothes. Chuuya gets a /49/ on his chest. "-- and at point two in the morning, I will announce three random numbers that will win /exceptional prices/! Of course, to spice things up a little, I'm making it a rule to have no rules!

Everything is allowed. Cheating. Stealing. Manipulating. As a wise man once said... Go crazy. Go Stupid. Thank you, and have fun!"

The stage goes dark as quickly as it lit up, and an excited murmur falls over the crowd before the music picks up again.

/The fuck./

Chuuya looks into the round. Ranpo and Kunikida look extremely unimpressed while Higuchi is basically jumping up and down in excitement.

"What kind of prices are we talking about?" Chuuya dares to ask.

"Trips to Bora Bora. A brand new Bugatti Chiron. A 20,000$ check," Ranpo provides with a casual shrug.

"Once," Higuchi raves, "someone won a meet and greet with Beyonce!"

Tanizaki makes a sound at that.

"Every day that man wakes up and chooses violence," Kunikida mutters.

"Fitzgerald really just wants to see the world burn. It was funny the first time, but now it's just sad." Ranpo shoots Chuuya a look then. "Do you want my sticker?"

"What?"

"You need it more than I do."

"Consider this my sign of condolence for living with Dazai for an entire year," Kunikida says in a completely serious voice before giving up his sticker as well.

"Sorry," Higuchi looks sheepish as she scratches the nape of her neck, "but I'd really like to meet Beyonce."

"All of you are ridiculous," he says because this entire night /is./ Even if a trip to Bora Bora sounds nice, Chuuya's not going to fight strangers over it, let alone at a freaking birthday party. He's just going to play nice with Dazai and let /him/ pamper him.

Later, he will wonder why the fuck he thought this idea made /sooo/ much sense while he was tipsy.

Speaking of Dazai, he's still nowhere to be seen.

"I'm going to get another drink."

The group is too busy talking about something Beyonce-related to even hear him, so Chuuya makes his way to the bar alone. There are three stickers on his chest, but he doubts that really matters until he feels some guy several feet away staring holes into him.

Chuuya frowns, but turns back to the bartender. /Ignorance is bliss./ And he can't get involved in a fight over /stickers/ on his second week in Yokohama.

Except that the moment, he grabs the cocktail, that fucking guy just grabs his chest --

And his stickers.

It's not even about the fucking lottery -- even though, yes, Chuuya has a competitive streak in him. It's about the complete lack of respect and the invasion of his personal space.

So he does the first thing that comes to him and rams his elbow into the dude's face.

Something cracks. Chuuya's drink spills. The guy curses as he clutches his nose. "What the fuck?!"

"Yeah, what the fuck?" Chuuya echoes. "Don't fucking touch me."

"I was going for your stickers -- it's a game you psycho --"

"I don't care! You don't just grab someone!"

The guy staggers to his feet and lunges, only to get hauled back by the collar of his suit by none other than Dazai.

Great.

/Now/ he chooses to come back?

Dazai watches him fall to his ass with a blank expression before grabbing Chuuya's arm and tugging him along.

"We're going."

"My drink --"

Dazai throws him a look. "Oh, forget your drink."

Letting out a long sigh, Chuuya stops resisting and forces his legs to keep up with Dazai's long strides. "Just so we're clear, I didn't start it."

"Somehow I have trouble believing that."

"He grabbed me like I was a banana and he was a starving monkey!" Chuuya's frustration turns into confusion. "Where are we going?"

"Outside," Dazai says and opens a door to lead them to a balcony. "Do you smoke?"

"Yeah."

Wordlessly, Dazai offers him a cigarette, then lights it for him before doing the same for himself. The October air is cold, but smoking makes it a bit better, and for a few peaceful moments, they just stand there quietly.

Then Chuuya asks, "Are you going to tattle on me?"

"I'm not a tattler."

"Yeah, you are. You told your mother I was /ravaging/ the kitchen after we first met."

Dazai's expression almost breaks, the twitch of his lips so subtle no one would notice if they didn't pay attention.

"That wasn't tattling. I wanted to rile you up."

Chuuya exhales the smoke in his lungs with a frown. "/Why?/"

Dazai's eyes meet his. "Because I like to know what kind of people sleep under my roof." A shrug. "And because you get that frown when you're annoyed."

He lifts his hand and pokes Chuuya's brow. "Yeah, like this one. It's cute."

Chuuya fights to keep his expression neutral.

This is /flirting./

His fucking /host brother/ is hitting on him, and Chuuya /likes/ it.

Dazai's fingers don't linger; he lets his hand fall back to his side and cocks his head as if to say /There. What's your next move?/

"If you think pissing me off is a good strategy to flirt with me," Chuuya says, "then you're really fucking bad at this."

"Am I, though?"

/Yes./

Except that there's a livewire running through Chuuya's body, and denying it would be like refusing to see a fucking forest fire. Dazai's methods might be questionable, but his aim is dead-on.

Still.

"You could at least try to do better," Chuuya says, daring /him./

"I don't just /try/, chibi."

"Well, you don't get to make half-ass attempts and get what you want either."

"What I want, huh?"

They're both /well/ aware that it's a fact -- fuck, /Dazai/ started it -- so Chuuya's not going to waste his breath explaining himself. +

He says nothing,just ever so slightly raises his chin.

"How about another drink and then you can decide if my /attempts/ are worth your precious time?"

Chuuya hates that even when Dazai's groveling for some ass, he still manages to make himself look like a king doing charity.

"Why not," Chuuya replies with a practiced shrug. "I guess a little entertainment wouldn't hurt."

Dazai's smile is way too knowing for his liking, but it's also kind of /hot/, so Chuuya lets him get away with it.

After squashing out their cigarettes, Dazai places a hand on his spine to guide him back inside, and it makes every nerve in Chuuya's body pulse with something akin to anticipation. And maybe, a little bit of dread.

Dazai leads them to a bar that's less crowded than the main one, located next to the infamous chocolate fountain Ranpo mentioned earlier, and several tables that offer the opportunity to sit down.

There aren't that many people here either, so it feels oddly intimate.

Sitting down, Chuuya feels like this is a date, and not the verbal foreplay of whatever is about to happen next, which is /weird/ because surely Dazai just wants a quick fuck, right? He certainly seems like the type.

Except that Dazai opens his mouth, and...

...Chuuya's worries vanish.

It's not any of that fancy schmancy flirting he expected -- not much of flirting at all, to be honest. Dazai just talks to him like they're friends, telling him about the first time Tanizaki got shitfaced at a brunch with his parents and

pretty much every big gun in the city present, or about the one time Ranpo got lost in the city when he had to take the subway because he was so used to being chauffeured around. It feels like the way it should have been after they first met.

No weird animosities over the breakfast table. No offensive comments about his leg. No silent games and competitions that seem to happen every time they share the same room. Just... two people talking about shit.

And Chuuya has no idea if /this/ is Dazai's grand strategy, or this is him simply acting like a normal 21-year-old for once.

It probably doesn't even matter because it's working either way.

Even despite his best efforts, Chuuya finds himself grinning over the rim of his glass. What can he say? Dazai's fun.

"Okay," Chuuya says eventually, "I need to piss, and then we can..."

"Take a nap in the nap room?" Dazai offers innocently.

"Yeah, something like that."

Chuuya only notices how drunk he is when he takes a look in the bathroom mirror. /Whoa./ It's not the Tanizaki kind of drunk that will rob all his memories and brain cells -- Dazai made sure of that with enough water, but the /everything's so fun and amazing/ kind of drunk.

The kind of drunk that tells him having sex with his host brother is a good idea.

It really dawns on him /now./

Chuuya's going to have sex with Dazai.

/Dazai./

He has quite the body count but Dazai will be by far one of the most interesting ones. And /complicated/ ones.

Jesus, Chuuya realizes, /so complicated./

This isn't just someone he met over a fucking "dating" app and that he'll never have to see again afterwards. They literally live in the same house. Seeing each other. Every day. For a year.

Granted, Dazai seems to be a busy guy, so maybe not /every day./

No.

"You can't fuck Dazai," Chuuya tells himself. It has the potential to turn into a disaster.

/But./

There's a humongous /but./

Which is that Dazai's really hot in that /I want to punch him/ kind of way.

Chuuya splashes some water on his face and takes a deep breath. This is going to happen. He might as well embrace it.

After making sure there isn't any food stuck in his teeth, Chuuya finally leaves the fancy restroom, still formulating an excuse why it took him so long when

he sees that their table is empty. He takes a look around. Dazai's nowhere to be seen.

The pair that was sitting a few tables away from them must take pity on Chuuya since they wordlessly gesture towards the main bar. He thanks them with a nod and goes to look for the bastard.

As silver-tongued as Dazai is, he still lacks basic fucking manners. You don't just vanish on the guy you've been trying to seduce for the last hour when he's in the bathroom.

Of course, the main hall is overflowing with people, so the task of finding the damn idiot becomes

ten times more annoying. The fact that half of the crowd is wearing white doesn't help.

It takes Chuuya ten humiliating minutes to /finally/ spot Dazai talking to some girl several feet away.

He's just about to walk over when Dazai squeezes her gently to his side, laughing, and the next thing he knows, the girl loops her arms around his neck and kisses him.

Chuuya comes to a sudden halt. Someone behind him stumbles into his back with a curse.

The way Dazai's holding her looks too familiar, too comfortable to be a fling or something like that. Chuuya remembers all too well how he acted with his first and only boyfriend after several years spent together, how easy it was to lean in and kiss him, and

how natural it felt to hold his hand.

/This/ -- Dazai and that girl -- looks exactly like that.

Chuuya also remembers the way his hands shook after he found out the same boyfriend had cheated on him.

"Cute, huh?" someone says next to him.

Chuuya glances over to see one of the guys that hung around Higuchi earlier -- short red hair, lots of piercings, and always wearing a smirk.

"Tachihara," he says, "remember me?"

"Sure." Chuuya's lungs feel way too tight for small talk right now, but he forces himself to nod.

"They're... together?"

"Since they were kids. Dazai and Yosano. Yosano and Dazai. The prince and the princess. You seriously didn't know?"

"No." His smile is a bitter and brittle thing. "Dazai must have forgotten to mention that."

"Huh." Tachihara makes a face. "Yeah, they've been together for ages now. I always thought they wouldn't make it past high school but here they are. I guess it's nice to see that, you know, true love and all still exists." Even while saying it though, he sounds unconvinced.

And for good reason.

Chuuya tears his eyes away from -- from that --

His hands keep clenching and unclenching at his sides. "I don't believe in that shit."

"In what? True love?"

"Yeah."

He knows he's speaking with the cynism of someone who was cheated on, and now

apparently someone who /almost/ became someone's mistress for the night... but aren't these reasons good enough to lose all the fucking hope in the world?He doesn't see the point in trying to find a partner for life if that partner is just going to wake up one day and decide that

they're going to spit on everything you built together and fuck someone else.

It's a cruel realization, but it makes it easier not to get hurt.

Chuuya's tired of being hurt.

"What do you believe in then?" Tachihara asks. The question is innocent enough if you close your

eyes, but Chuuya has noticed the way Tachihara eyed him earlier and is eyeing him now.

Dazai might be an even bigger asshole than he thought he is, and tomorrow Chuuya will probably have to deal with unpacking whatever stunt that bastard tried to pull, but tonight...

tonight he can still have some fun and just /forget/ for a while.

Chuuya turns to Tachihara. "I believe that there's sex with and without feelings. Nothing more and nothing less than that." He cocks his head. He grins. "This party is starting to bore me. Wanna get out of here?"

Tachihara looks as if the take out he ordered two hours ago finally arrived at his doorstep. "Yeah," he blurts out. "Sure. That's a great idea."

And it is.

Certainly better than spending the night with a cheating bastard. +

Chuuya's walk of shame becomes infinitely worse when his good-for-nothing one-night stand refuses to wake up no matter how many times he shakes his shoulder.

Well, Tachihara was good for /a lot of things/ just a few hours ago, but now, when Chuuya could use /some/ information

on their whereabouts, he's pretty fucking useless. All Chuuya got from the cab ride to Tachihara's place was that it was too damn long, and that he lives above a tattoo studio because... he works there? Chuuya's also pretty sure that Tachihara mentioned being in a band.

That, or maybe it was just a very vivid dream.

Chuuya gives up on trying to wake him up and slips out of bed, taking a moment to orientate himself in the crammed micro-apartment as a dull headache is already forming in the back of his skull.

His clothes are scattered all over the floor. His phone is... on Tachihara's nightstand. /Thank god./ The last thing he needs is to lose his phone.

Once he's put on his clothes, Chuuya takes one last look at Tachihara idly snoring in his sleep and dips the fuck out of there.

Leaving through an empty and dark tattoo studio makes him feel vaguely criminal, and he only lets himself breathe properly when the chilly 5 am air hits his lungs.

He has no option but to get a cab, so he finds a spot on the side of the road, wraps his arms around himself,

and waits. Standing there, feeling gross, still mildly drunk, dying of thirst, and really fucking cold, Chuuya wishes he would have put more thought into what the hell he was doing yesterday. The ride home will probably cost him two weeks' worth of salary.

Not to mention what he's going to do if his host family asks him where he spent the night since he wouldn't put it past Dazai to tattle on him -- and it still wouldn't be the worst thing he'll have done.

Sure, it's not like spending the night somewhere else is a crime,

but it sure as hell won't make him look /good./

And it's all /Dazai's/ fault.

If he just--if he hadn't been such a liar and bastard and cheater who /had to/ start the whole flirting thing, Chuuya would have never felt the need to go home with Tachihara without telling anybody.

He could have arrived home like a good au pair and not have to worry about money and what his his host family's going to think of him.

/That damn bastard./

But even aside from the obvious frustrations, Chuuya feels something much more bitter and hateful gnaw at him.

Chuuya despises cheating more than anything else in the world, and the fact that Dazai almost made him /complicit/ in something so -- so...

It /repulses/ him.

Whatever spark might have been there between the two of them? It's dead now. For good. Dazai made sure of that.

Chuuya has no interest in being friends or even tolerating someone like that. Even if that means the next 12 months will be ugly and uncomfortable. He doesn't care anymore.

Finally, a cab stops for him. Chuuya rattles off the address and then lets his head rest against the seat

as the car starts moving. They've been driving for almost twenty minutes when his phone buzzes in his pocket and, for the first time since last night, he remembers to check it.

/15 Missed Calls./

He doesn't have to wonder from /who/ for long since there are a few texts, too. Chuuya's not sure where Dazai got his number from, and he doesn't want to know either... it just doesn't matter anymore.

Chuuya gets /some/ sort of bitter satisfaction out of the knowledge that

Dazai must be worried -- if not about Chuuya, then about his own ass and what his parents would say if he had to tell him that he accidentally lost their au pair.

For a moment, he considers delaying his arrival home even further. Just for the fun of it.

But /no./

Maybe if Dazai's actually concerned about having lost Chuuya, he hasn't told the family yet.

Which means they could resolve this without Hayashi and Tsushima ever finding out about his little adventure.

Chuuya stuffs his phone back into his pocket and spends the rest of the

ride dozing. He pays with Paypal because he absolutely did not think he'd need that kind of money when he went out yesterday. His heart breaks a little.

Chuuya inhales, walks up the stairs to the house, and lets himself in.

At first, it's quiet in the hallway, dark, and he thinks /thank god everyone's still asleep./ Then a light switches on in the kitchen nearby, there's the dreadful sound of steps, and a moment later Dazai appears.

He looks furious.

He's lost the jacket of his blazer, and his hair isn't neatly arranged anymore, instead it looks like he drove his hand through it a few million times. Dazai stares at him for a second before his brows tug into a fierce scowl.

"Do you ever look at your fucking phone?!"

Chuuya huffs softly and turns away to kick off his shoes.

"Where the hell were you?" Dazai demands. "Do you even know how many people are looking for you right now?"

"Oh, boo-hoo."

It wipes the glare off Dazai's face, and even though Chuuya will need a while to stop feeling gross for almost having slept with him, this here... feels /good./ Turning that overwhelming anger poisoning his veins into verbal punches feels /liberating./

"Chuuya."

"What?!" he snaps. "What could you possibly have to say to me?"

"Oh, I have a lot to say, but go on --" Dazai waves towards him. "-- you go first since there's clearly something on your chest."

"I'd rather not talk to you at all."

"You're acting like a child," Dazai has the audacity to reply. "You disappear in the middle of the party without a w--"

"/I/ disappeared?!"

Dazai's mouth snaps shut for a glorious moment. Then he lets out a sigh. "Okay, that's fair. I left first. But I /returned./"

/Jesus fucking christ./

Dazai's seriously going to act like he didn't leave in the first place to snuggle with his girlfriend?!

Chuuya has to swallow down breaths to even shake his head and move his limbs. He can't talk to Dazai right now, or he'll end up punching him.

"Chuu--"

"Don't."

Dazai tries to touch his wrist but Chuuya wrenches away from his grip with a low hiss before he pushes past him. "Don't fucking touch me."

So Dazai doesn't.

Chuuya somehow manages not to sleep for twelve hours but five, so it's eleven when he wakes up again, though he spends an hour just lying in bed and scrolling through his phone just to avoid leaving the room and having to talk to anybody.

Even the prospect of seeing Dazai again makes him feel nauseous.

Eventually, he does get up. Chuuya doesn't want Hayashi asking any more questions than necessary, and his stomach has been grumbling with the need for food for the last half hour anyway, /so./

The kitchen is blissfully empty. He only remembers that Hayashi mentioned she'd take the kids shopping halfway through his hangover breakfast, and relaxes even more.

He gets a text from Tachihara, asking if he got home safely. Chuuya debates about what to reply,

then sends him a "yeah" and a thumbs-up emoji.

He has finished putting away the dishes when the doorbell rings. Chuuya debates about whether to answer it, too.

It could be Hayashi and the kids. Maybe she forgot her key. He doubts it even as he goes to open the door.

It's not Hayashi.

It's the girl from yesterday. The girl Dazai was kissing. The girl who's been in a relationship with him for ages, according to Tachihara, and also the girl that Dazai was about to cheat on -- or, let's be real probably already has.

The same girl offers Chuuya her hand with a brilliant smile and says, "Hi, I don't think we've met before. I'm Yosano."

+

It takes him a few seconds to get his muscle to move, accepting the outstretched hand with an expression that more likely resembles a grimace than a smile. "Chuuya Nakahara. Hey."

"I know," Yosano says with a wink before inviting herself inside.

The click-clack of her stilettos against the marble floor sounds like gunshots. "I've heard a lot about you, you know, so it's a pleasure to finally put a face to the name."

"Have you now?" Chuuya asks, following /her/ to the kitchen -- funny, how easy it is to feel small

with a vibrant personality like that present.

"Oh, yes." Fetching a glass and a bottle of water from the fridge, Yosano shoots him a smirk. "Hayashi adores you. And Dazai..." Chuuya's pulse spikes. Dazai /what/? "Don't tell him I said that, but I think he actually likes you.

And trust me, that's an accomplishment. Dazai doesn't like anybody. Well, except /me./"

Chuuya wordlessly reaches for the bottle, buying himself some time, and Yosano's kind enough to slide it towards him.

He wasn't planning on meddling with the bastard's relationship.

As shitty as it sounds, it's not his business. Not his drama. But...

Yosano's standing in front of him, telling him how /her boyfriend/ likes Chuuya. He can't just stand here and pretend like Dazai wasn't about to cheat on her less than 24 hours ago. /Right?/

"Not sure about the /like/ part but --"

Yosano waves him off. "He yelled at about a hundred different people when you disappeared yesterday and then called his family's own staff to look for you. Where /were/ you, by the way?"

"With Tachihara Michizou," Dazai's voice suddenly says behind them. Now when did /he/ get here?! And what part of the conversation did he hear? Dazai's gaze drills into Chuuya when he turns to stare at him. "Weren't you?"

"Well, hello darling," Yosano chirps, "way to make an appearance. And Tachihara, Chuuya-kun?" She whistles. "Hope you didn't let him tattoo your ass when you were drunk because been there, done that. My parents did not appreciate it."

"Oh, but I like that tattoo," Dazai drawls.

Chuuya looks between them. This whole scene -- the /three/ of them -- should make Dazai /fret/ but instead he's joking around, looking like he's watching an episode from his favorite TV show for the 100th time.

Something feels... off.

"Where I spent the night isn't your business," Chuuya says slowly. "Can I--"

"It is when I bring you to the party," Dazai cuts in. "If you come with me, then you stay with me."

"Pretty damn hard to stay with you if you just /vanish/ --"

"Sure. But if you had just waited ten minutes instead of stalking off with the first guy you find like a child throwing a temper tantrum, then you would have seen that I came back. And with good reason."

"Yeah, and what reason would that be?"

Chuuya was going to ask Dazai privately, but since /he/ insists on doing it in front of Yosano, then they will do it in front of Yosano. Throw it /all/ out there in the open.

Except that Dazai doesn't look nearly as alarmed as he should be.

And when his gaze travels to his girlfriend, offering a silent /go on/, she looks /amused/ as she says, "Oh, he was with me. Fitzgerald was being annoying, so I needed him to play his fake boyfriend part."

Chuuya stills. He blinks.

Fake... fake what now?

"Pardon me," Chuuya murmurs, "but /what/?"

Yosano's brows tug into a frown as she turns to Dazai -- the first /appropriate/ reaction Chuuya has seen on her face today. "You didn't tell him?"

Tell him what? That they're... /fake dating/?

But even as the words rumble through his mind, everything suddenly starts to make so much sense. Why Dazai didn't even /try/ to be careful. Why he was so mad when Chuuya vanished. Why he and Yosano both look like they're really fucking enjoying themselves while Chuuya is...

He feels /so/ stupid.

"It didn't come up," Dazai replies nonchalantly, and when Chuuya turns to him with a glare that could /kill/, he holds up his hands. "When, Chuuya, would have been the appropriate time to tell you I've been pretending to date my best friend

for the last eight years, pray tell?"

"Maybe before you tried to fucking fuck me at the /same/ party where your fake girlfriend was!" Chuuya snaps.

"Oh," Yosano says, then she looks between them and nods. "/Oh./ See?" She winks at Chuuya. "I told you he likes you."

"I do not like him," Dazai says.

"He doesn't like me," Chuuya growls at the same time, and then shoots him another withering glower, "or he wouldn't be getting off on making a clown out of me."

"Oh, you manage that pretty well yourself."

Chuuya shakes his head.

"I fucking hate you. I've hated you from the moment I first talked to you and I will always hate you."

"Cute." Unimpressed, Yosano picks a grape from the fruit basket on the counter. "Why make all that fuss if you knew your boy was with Tachihara, though?

I never got the opportunity to try out the chocolate fountain."

"Because I /didn't/ know where Chuuya was." Dazai pins him with a stare that looks collected, yet is everything but. "Do you even realize how dangerous this city can be at night? The things that are out there..."

"I wasn't alone," Chuuya huffs.

"You were when you drove home."

"And how would you know that?"

"Because one phone call was enough to make Tachihara spill every single detail that happened last night. You were gone while was still sleeping."

Something about Dazai knowing this makes him feel both crudely exposed and... well, not /proud/. But maybe a bit smug.

Because yeah, Chuuya fucked /Tachihara./ And maybe if Dazai hadn’t been such a stupid asshole witholding crucial information, it could have been /him/.

But it wasn’t.

“It was 5 am by that time,” Chuuya replies, fighting back with his own glare.

“Night and 5 am are the same thing for some people.”

“Who the hell cares?I’m here now. What else do you want me to say?”

“What I want is for you to get your head out of your ass.”

"Seriously?" Chuuya's fragile control shatters like glass and he grabs the collar of Dazai's shirt, ignoring the part of his brain that goes /jesus, he's tall/ when he has to crane his neck to glare up at him. "I'm not going to let you insult me when this is all /your/ fault!"

"How is it my fault that you jump to conclusions like it's a parkour competition?"

"Conclusions?!" Chuuya's fists ball tighter. "Tachihara /told/ me you've been together /for ages/! How is that jumping to conclusions, asshole?!"

The lazy smile that stretches on Dazai's lips is /infuriating./ Even more so when he pries Chuuya's hands away from his collar without any effort and steps back. "Maybe you shouldn't have been stupid enough to believe someone like Tachihara then. You're both idiots."

Yosano pushes away from the counter to offer the glass of water to Dazai. "If I have to hear the word /stupid/ one more time, I will go insane, so please, Osamu, drink and shut up for one second."

Chuuya lets out a sigh and rubs his temple.

"I thought you were all friends," he tells Yosano. "Wouldn't he know that this thing between you isn't... real?"

Yosano shrugs as she leans against Dazai who /grumpily/ downs the water. "We sometimes cross circles but he isn't actually part of the group. Not really."

"Because he is a silly little insect," Dazai adds, "who thinks that just because he's tight with Higuchi, that he's somehow close with the rest of us, too."

"Now where does all that hate comes from?" Yosano teases and the look she gets from him in return would be funny,

if it wasn't also incredibly confusing.

Chuuya has no idea what to feel. What to think. Or what /to do./

Dazai's not a cheater which is good, yes, but it makes the whole hating him thing a lot harder. Except that Chuuya doesn't have to hate him anymore...

but going back to where they were before this mess started isn't an option either. Because they were /this/ close to sleep with each other last night, and now, that they're both sober and at home instead of a party, it just doesn't feel right anymore. Or would it?

/No./

It would have been a mistake then.

Maybe this is just the universe telling Chuuya to leave it alone.

Yosano mutters something, but Chuuya only catches Dazai pressing out an annoyed "fine" before he turns to Chuuya, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

"Let's just agree that this is Ranpo's fault."

Chuuya frowns weakly. "What?"

"He saw you leaving with Tachihara, but he only told me 12 hours later because he was busy sleeping in that damn nap room."

Oh.

"Whatever," Chuuya murmurs.

After so many revelations at once, he feels exhausted and drained, the lack of sleep last night finally catching up to him. He needs a nap.

"By the way," Dazai says then. "You won one of the prices."

"Ha?"

"Fitzgerald's games. You had number 49, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"Well, if you weren't stup--" A kick to his leg from Yosano makes Dazai halt and reword his sentence. "-- if you still have the sticker and didn't leave it at Tachihara's, you can still claim it. Better hurry though, before Fitzgerald changes his mind."

Now, this... this is the last thing Chuuya expected to hear today, but hey. A price won is a price won. After all, he even /fought/ for it.

In the hallway, there's the sound of the door falling open, lots of shuffling, and a pair of feet /stomping/ away dramatically.

Hayashi and the kids must be back.

Yosano's the first out of the kitchen to greet them, which leaves him and Dazai alone for a moment. An /unbearable/ moment because Chuuya doesn't know what to say, and apparently, neither does Dazai, so they both just awkwardly stare

at each other before making the silent and mutual decision to follow her. In the hallway, Hayashi is taking off her coat while animatedly talking to Yosano about something. Her gets even brighter when she spots them. "Oh, Chuuya-kun is here too!

I take it you had fun last night then? See, I told you! I know you probably think I'm an old, clueless lady, but I know how the youth works! A party is all you need to break the ice!"

Chuuya doesn't have the heart to tell her that the ice was not only broken, but /smashed/ in.

Not in a good way either.

"It was... fun," he says and deliberately avoids looking at Yosano and Dazai.

Ryuu emerges from the wardrobe, dutifully letting Yosano ruffle his hair without any complaint before asking, "Can I go now?"

"Of course, honey," Hayashi replies.

"But please make sure Gin is all right. I fear she might sulk for a while."

Ryuu leaves, and Chuuya helps with the bags. "What happened with Gin?"

"Oh, we had a little... tantrum in one of the stores. She insists that she wants to become a ballerina now."

"What's wrong with being a ballerina?" Yosano asks. "They're ho--" Catching herself, she clears her throat and says, "They're honestly... amazing."

Hayashi lets out a sigh. "I wanted to sign her up for ballet classes a year ago, but that was when she wanted to play soccer.

That child changes her mind every five seconds."

"You know how kids are." Yosano follows Hayashi into the kitchen. "But hey, I can give you the name of an excellent ballet school if you want. An old friend of mine works there..."

"/Friend/," Dazai echoes sarcastically.

"Yes," Yosano says tightly, "she /is./"

Somehow Dazai's mocking gaze doesn't stay on her, though, but focuses on Chuuya who mentally spaced out of the conversation the moment the word /ballet/ fell.

Chuuya never clarified what kind of /dancing/ accident it was, but his pale expression is probably enough to make it easy to guess.

Ballet.

For almost eleven years, Chuuya's entire future was ballet. Until it wasn't anymore.

He forces himself to exhale and snap out of it as he quietly helps to put away the groceries Hayashi bought.

"I could take her tomorrow," Dazai says.

"You would?" Hayashi asks. "Oh, Osamu. Thank you so much."

"Chuuya can come with us as well," Dazai adds then, "right?"

Chuuya, who has no idea what they're talking about, blinks. "Pardon me?"

Dazai's casual smile is dangerous. "To the ballet school. To sign up Gin for a class? Fitzgerald's office is on the way, and you still have a price to claim, right?"

"Right," Chuuya says. Of course.

+

Chuuya's lying back on his bed later that day when his phone buzzes with an incoming call. From /Tachihara./ He frowns but picks up anyway.

"Hello...?"

"Dude," Tachihara's voice greets him. "You could have warned me about Dazai."

"Warn you about what?"

"Well, I don't know. Maybe that he's freakishly possessive of his au pair? I thought you were just living in the same house, but I had to endure a 20-minute interrogation from him this morning."

Chuuya snorts despite himself.

"He was probably just concerned that he'd have to explain where I am to his family."

"Yeah, no. The Dazai I know doesn't get concerned about /anything./"

/But, apparently, he doesn't know Dazai well at all./ Not that Chuuya mentions that.

Tachihara seems too nice of a guy to deserve all this slander.

"I'll make it up to you with a drink," Chuuya replies.

The laugh that comes from the other end of the line cracks nervously. "No offense, dude, but I'm really not in the mood to piss off Dazai even more."

"It's just a /drink./ Why would he get mad about that?"

"I mean... I guess."

Chuuya's frown splits into a grin. "Great. So when are you free?"

They agree on a day next week, and even though Tachihara still doesn't sound entirely convinced, Chuuya hears him warm up to the idea when he mentions that he could use some professional advice for a piercing he's planning to get.

Apparently, the way to a man's heart is through his passion.

Well, Chuuya doesn't want his heart. He's not stupid enough to fall in love in a country that he's going to leave again in less than 12 months -- or just fall in love with anyone, really.

But he does want Tachihara to stay in his life. If not for the fact that he's proven himself to be a decent partner in bed, then as his /friend./ Because it's been two weeks and Chuuya's an extrovert, and spending the days with two nice but /very/ quiet kids is starting to

become painfully depressing.

He goes to bed soon afterwards, desperately trying not to think about tomorrow's ballet school visit by plugging in his earphones and listening to his /happy/ playlist.

His dreams don't seem to get the memo.

The next morning, after hitting snooze about 15 times, Chuuya manages to wake up and go on about his usual morning routine. Wrestle the kids awake and make them eat. On their walk to school, he informs Gin that she'll be able to try out ballet later that day and

she squeals in excitement.

"I'll become the bestest ballerina of the whole wide world," she sings and jumps her next steps with her arms spread like a bird before she grabs her brother's arm. "Oni-chan, you should come too!"

Ryuu frowns over the thick scarf around his neck.

"I don't want to sit around for two hours and watch you dance."

"So dance with me!"

"I don't want to dance."

"Why not?!"

"Stupid. Boys can't be ballerinas," Ryuu mutters and kicks a pebble with his foot. Diabolo happily chases it, giving the leash in Chuuya's hand a

violent tug and making him nearly topple over.

Chuuya has /a lot/ of muscles, but when it comes to rottweilers that apparently doesn't matter.

Grabbing Chuuya's hand, Gin scowls furiously. "Why can't boys be ballerinas?! That's unfair! I want Oni-chan to be a ballerina too!"

"Oh," Chuuya says and forces out an even smile -- he's starting to think that no amount of time spent with children will make him less awkward around them, "actually, boys can dance ballet as well. It doesn't matter who you are, you just have to /really, really/ want it."

"See!" Gin cries. "You can dance with me too! I don't want to dance all by myself!"

Ryuu's staring at Chuuya though with that sort of bewilderedness that looks way too familiar. "Really?"

"Really." He nods. "You can become anything that you want."

"Even a star?" Gin asks.

"Well, that depends on what kind of star..."

"A sparkly one!"

Chuuya's smile only falters when he sees the two of them enter the school buildings, swallowed by a crowd of other kids.

It's ridiculous. Being /jealous/ of a child.

Yet here he is.

Maybe /jealous/ isn't the right word because he does hope that Gin, and maybe even Ryuu, get to discover the beauty of ballet someday. The rush of endorphins when you get into pose. The delicious stretch of your body as you move.

The way you lose yourself the moment the music starts and everything -- all the anger, the tension, the everyday-problems -- bleed into a rhythm that makes you flow through life. Yeah, he wants them to feel that someday. He just wishes he could, too.

The rest of his morning and lunch pass way too quickly, so that by the time, Chuuya finishes a facetime call with his fathers, it's already time to put on his big boy shoes and endure both Dazai and the trip to the ballet school.

He opens his door to see Dazai lifting his hand to knock and shoots him a scowl.

"Now why do you always make that face when you see me?" Dazai asks, following him. "I'm pretty sure my face is not that hard to look at."

"Your face isn't the problem. It's your personality."

In the end, Gin shows up alone, excitedly climbing into Dazai's ridiculously flashy -- but /sexy/ -- black lexus. Chuuya barely manages not to drive his hands all over the dashboard like a fucking creep, but Dazai seems to catch the awe in his eyes anyways.

"You like cars, huh?"

"...maybe."

"Who knows, maybe Fitzgerald will give you one."

Chuuya isn't /that/ lucky, but it sure would be nice. As the car comes alive with a delicious purr, he glances at Dazai. "So you don't know what I won?"

"No. He only announced them along with the winners, and I was too busy making sure you weren't somewhere dead in an alley to ask what price you got."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Chuuya looks out of the window. "If you're waiting for an apology, you won't get one."

"Apologies are useless if you continue to be a child. So as cute as it that you care so much about loyalty and cheating, please just tell me where you're going next time."

Chuuya opens his mouth to cuss him out, to tell him exactly what he thinks of fucking /loyalty/ but

the moment he sees Dazai's cool eyes slide over to him, he snaps it shut. Realizing.

This isn't Dazai being a condescending asshole.

This is Dazai being a /manipulative/ asshole that tries to purposefully rile him up to get information out of him +

because reactions can be louder than words.

Dazai must see the realization bleed all over his face since he shrugs and focuses back on the road. "You make it so easy, Chuuya."

"You..." The only reason Chuuya doesn't go off is that Gin's in the backseat, too young to hear

the insults on his tongue.

"This will be a fun year," Dazai comments idly.

Chuuya counts to ten and leaves half-moon marks on the palm of his hand with his fingernails.

A pretty awkward silence hangs in the air--at least, until they arrive in front of the school and Gin starts an endless stream of excited chatter.

Chuuya honestly can't blame her. The school looks /way/ fancier than he expected--certainly fancier than the one he started in.

It shouldn't be that much of a surprise since the suggestion came from Yosano and she, and the Tsushimas, and pretty much everyone in their little circle seems to be loaded with money. Yet Chuuya still can't help but feel a bit shocked every time.

Gin basically drags him inside the building, and much to Chuuya's annoyance, Dazai doesn't stay in the car. No. Of course, he follows them as well.

The foyer's just as pretty as the outside, flooded with white and golden colors and lots of light.

A young woman fussing over a pinboard is kind enough to tell them where to go, and so not even two minutes later Chuuya enters a place that he's seen a million times before, yet one that he never thought he'd be in again.

But here he is.

And it's painfully real.

The room is different enough that it shouldn't make Chuuya feel like this, the windows are placed a bit higher and the colors seem off-kilter, but the grief that punches through him doesn't care about the details.

Chuuya only hears the words of the young woman that approached them when he feels a hand on his back, grounding in its gentle firmness.

"-- Kouyou Ozaki. And this must be little Gin, right?"

"That's me!"

"Great. Today you can both observe and give it a try yourself. Did you bring the clothes we mentioned on the phone?"

Gin turns to him with an expectant look and Chuuya has to remember how to speak before he answers. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, she brought them. They're in your bag, Gin."

"Lucy," Kouyou calls and waves her over. "Show Gin where she can get changed, would you?"

As the two girls leave, the polite smile vanishes from Kouyou's face. The change is so sudden that it snaps Chuuya back to the present and out of his goddamn mind.

Kouyou, who probably introduced herself as the dance instructor when Chuuya was busy having a silent meltdown, is tall and elegant with her red hair in a tight ponytail, and when she looks at Dazai, her eyes narrow.

Which makes Chuuya instantly like her.

"Dazai," she says, "I can't say that I'm happy to see you again."

"Oh, how rude. We all had so much fun back then."

"We must have different definitions of fun."

"Mm. Speaking of, Yosano sends her regards."

If possible, Kouyou's glare gets even colder.

"You can tell her to go fuck herself."

Chuuya almost chokes on his spit, coughing into his hand, and that makes Kouyou's gaze slider over to him. "You're new."

"I'm the au pair," he provides after clearing his throat.

"Okay. Well, you can stay and watch, or pick Gin up later. Just don't interrupt my class."

And with that, she's off. The sound of Kouyou clapping her hands together to gather the children echoes through the room -- and through Chuuya's chest.

But Dazai touches his shoulder, not all too gently, before his thoughts wander too far. "We're going."

"What?" Chuuya says. "We can stay. Gin probably wants us to --"

"Gin has Kouyou and fifteen other midgets to keep her company," Dazai says, guiding him out of the room.

"And you will probably collapse if we stay here a minute longer."

Chuuya would argue -- he will not /collapse/ -- but he's too tired to even do that so he silently makes his feet move. One excruciating step after the other. Until they're outside and alone.

+

The fresh air feels nice and Chuuya finds himself sucking in deep breaths as he soaks up the last rays of the October sun. A hand lands on his back again.

The same hand he felt earlier.

The comforting gesture doesn't fit together with the way Dazai has treated him.

"Why are you being considerate /now/," Chuuya mutters and glares at where Dazai's touching him, "when you're the one who dragged me here in the first place?"

Dazai's lashes flutter a few times. Then his hand falls away, shoved into the pocket of his ink-black coat.

"You'd have to come here one way or another."

Chuuya's smile tastes like poison on his tongue. "So what, you wanted to come here with me? Hold my hand?"

"No, I thought, being a dancer yourself, you would like to come. Forgive me for not predicting you'd have a panic attack."

"I didn't have a panic attack," Chuuya snaps, driving a hand through his hair. "I just..."

"You miss dancing."

His voice is quiet when he speaks. "Yeah."

"And you're 100% sure you can't anymore?" Dazai asks which makes his frown deepen even more.

Something the idiot seems to be /talented/ at. "Did Akiko mention she's studying medicine? Because she is, and she's excellent at --"

"Don't you think I'd know if I could?" Chuuya shakes his head. "Jesus, it's like you want me to hate you. /I/ was in the hospital.

/I/ spoke to the doctors. /I/ am living with his, so just... just shut up."

Dazai looks like he has more to say, but for both of their sakes, he doesn't, and instead nods over to his car. "We have 86 minutes to spare. Let's get your precious price."

Chuuya rolls his eyes, though it's mostly just for show. This day isn't exactly great, but he's sure that something filthy expensive will make up for it -- at least, a little.

Who knows. Maybe he did win a car. He could use that to commit vehicular manslaughter on Dazai.

Dazai pulls back onto the road but Chuuya still feels his eyes slide over to him every so often. "Stop fucking analyzing me," he barks out eventually. "I'm not mathematical enough for you to drive us into a ditch."

"I'm not."

"Then /what/ are you doing?!"

"Thinking of something to tell you."

"Ha?"

"The scale between us is so unbalanced I'm considering giving you something in return. Just so it stops looking so poorly for you."

Chuuya huffs out a breath. The sheer audacity. "I don't want /anything/ from you."

"How mature of you. Now ask a question. Anything." Dazai flicks a finger towards him. "One piece of dirty laundry for another."

Even if Dazai's annoying -- probably the most annoying person he's ever met, Chuuya still feels a handful of timid curiosity stir inside his chest.

Here Dazai is, offering a piece of his complicated, guarded self. Chuuya would be an idiot to refuse, right?

"Fine," he says with a sigh and crosses his arms. There a lot of things he'd like to know, but there's /one/ question that comes to his mind first.

"Why are you pretending to date Yosano?"

The unimpressed look on Dazai's face screams that he's disappointed with him for asking something so... trivial when he could have gone straight for the throat... /but./

"I mean," Chuuya starts, "I'd get it if you told your parents you have a girlfriend to get them off your back. Sort of. To be honest, I always assumed that whole fake dating thing was just a trope used in cheesy rom-com movies. But you said you've been doing it for /8 years./

That's a long time."

Dazai's silent for a moment, steering the car on the freeway. "My father and her parents are business partners. Our relationship has started as a business arrangement when we were kids and probably will always be one."

Except that Dazai doesn't seem like the type of person to be pushed around by his parents.

"But didn't you ever get... lonely?" Chuuya finds himself asking, genuinely confused. 8 years of fake dating means 8 years of no /actual/ relationship.

No introducing your high school sweetheart to your family. Certainly no broken hearts from your first shitty love.

"Oh, I wasn't ever lonely," Dazai chuckles. "It did make me into an excellent liar, though. And a /fake/ relationship didn't ever stop us from some fun ourselves."

Oh.

"Would it have bothered you?" Dazai asks then.

Chuuya has a vague idea of what he's talking about, but he's not about to make a fool of himself for the nth time, so, leaning his elbow against the window, he dutifully asks, "Would /what/ have bothered me?"

"Yosano. If I had told you before you heard what you heard from Tachihara," Dazai calmly elaborates. "Would it have bothered you? Would you have stayed?"

And even though Chuuya knew it was coming, the beating heart inside his chest still seems to spike at that. "Yeah," he says.

"Even if it's fake, to others it would have looked a lot differently. I don't want to be the dirty mistress you fuck while your pretend girlfriend looks the other way. And I'm certainly not a side piece."

Dazai nods.

The strange game of /truth/ they've been playing ends.

Fitzgerald's office is on the other side of the city, located in a tall building right on the side of a busy shopping promenade. Chuuya starts to feel underdressed the moment they step into the elevator and get a good look of themselves in the mirror,

showcasing both their difference in clothes /and/ in height. Next to Dazai's coat, razor-sharp suit and tie, Chuuya looks like a rebellious teenager in his leather jacket and docs.

But oh well.

He might as well make it look good.

Chuuya straightens his spine when the doors slide open with a /ding/ and follows Dazai to the office at the end of the hall. The young man sitting at the reception doesn't even get spared a glance.

"Fitzgerald," Dazai says greets. "I brought you number 49."

Everything about Fitzgerald screams filthy rich -- well, everything except his face. Compared to everyone else Chuuya's met so far, he just looks like a plain, blonde guy. With wrinkles. And a dreadful grin.

"The infamous number 49. I was wondering whether you'd show up."

"Here I am," Chuuya says. "Can I get my price?"

"I should have guessed that everything to do with Dazai would be just as ill-mannered as him, but..." Fitzgerald opens a drawer, getting out an envelope that he lays on his desk. "The sticker for your price."

Chuuya unceremoniously slaps the sticker on the desk and grabs the envelope, though he doesn't open it yet, just holding it on to it tightly.

"Aren't you going to open it?" Fitzgerald asks, leaning back in his seat.

"I wasn't planning to."

Even though he feels Dazai stiffen slightly next to him, what he says is, "Oh, we didn't come here for small talk, Fitz."

"Of course. I look forward to seeing you at the charity gala next month." Dazai and Chuuya both turn to leave, but it doesn't stop Fitzgerald from speaking.

"Though I hope you will cause less of a ruckus next time. I don't enjoy my guests being yelled at."

"And I don't enjoy a single thing about you," Dazai says with a wave. "Goodbye."

Once they're in the elevator, Chuuya finally glances at the envelope in his hands.

"You're not going to start crying, are you?" Dazai asks from his side.

"I hope I get a sword," Chuuya mutters with a roll of his eyes before tearing into the paper. There are several things inside.

A brochure. A letter. And two tickets.

Chuuya's eyes fly over the text several times before he gets the gist of it. It's a trip to a 5-star resort in Fuji including full access to the spa area, tickets to a horse-back riding trip, several museums /and/ bungee-jumping.

All for two people.

"Wow," he says.

Dazai's not even tactful enough to ask for the papers, he just brushes Chuuya aside and reads it for himself before huffing out a soft, amused sound that makes Chuuya shiver.

"Cute."

"Shut up," he automatically says. "I'm an au pair. Can I even go on a trip like that?"

"You're entitled to four weeks of vacation, so yes. You can."

"Have you ever been there?"

Dazai looks over his shoulder with a smirk as he walks to his car. "To Fuji? No. Do you want to take me?"

Chuuya slams the door shut to emphasize how much he /doesn't/ want to do that.

Leaning against his seat, he crosses his arms and reads over the brochure again, picturing himself enjoying a full-body massage while he's sipping a cocktail. /Nice./ "Maybe I'll take Tachihara," he throws out there just because he feels like being difficult.

"I should ask him when I see him next week."

"Mm, maybe you will." Though out of Dazai's mouth, it sounds like /no you won't and we both know it/ and some stupid, horny part of Chuuya delights in it. The rational part just sighs and prepares for a long year ahead.

+

When they pick Gin up, she tells them that she wants to come back next week (and the /200/ weeks after that, too). This means Chuuya will have to as well. Just like Dazai said.

Maybe Chuuya /is/ glad that he went there today. Sort of. Sure, he did have a silent meltdown,

but that means he won't have one next time. And hopefully someday, it will be like getting Ryuu to his violin lessons. Just another place.

Dazai's already disappeared somewhere inside the house by the time Chuuya gets off his docs and wanders into the kitchen to check what's

for dinner. He's honestly not sure what it is that the cooks left on the stove, but it looks and smells delicious.

After eating with the kids and helping Ryuu with his maths homework, Chuuya is pretty surprised when Dazai's father intercepts him on his way to his room.

"Chuuya-kun. A word?"

It's rare to see him around the house, let alone have Tshushima /speak/ to him. /Privately./

His mind's already racing with a thousand possible scenarios as he follows the man into his office. He's going to get fired.

Someone noticed how awkward he is around the kids. Dazai tattled on him, after all.

Chuuya remains standing while Tsushima sits down, and braces himself for the worst-case scenario.

"How are you liking it here?"

Oh.

"It's been great."

"The birthday celebration you went to," Tsushima says and leans back in his seat, driving a hand across his jaw. Chuuya's heart /drops./ "I heard that my son had to look for you."

This is it.

Goodbye Yokohama.

Goodbye being au pair.

"I want to apologize for his behavior."

"What?" Chuuya says, a bit dazed.

Tsushima moves, grabbing two glasses and a bottle of scotch from the cabinet next to his desk before pouring himself one -- and one for Chuuya, apparently. "Do you drink?"

"Occasionally."

"Here." Tsushima slides it towards him and Chuuya accepts it, fingers wrapping tightly around the glass but not lifting it to his mouth. "My son's behavior can be very eccentric," the man starts again. "I apologize for whatever he did to you.

I will make sure that it never happens again."

What?

"I don't really follow," Chuuya says. "Dazai didn't do anything. It was a... misunderstanding." He can't and he shouldn't put himself into a compromising position to defend Dazai, but /this/ feels wrong.

However, Tsushima doesn't really seem to hear him. "All that boy does is cross boundaries, but that's not how my family works." He takes a sip of his drink. "If you need me to step in, you can come to me anytime."

Chuuya's about to say something -- something that will make Dazai seem less like a devil and more like the nuanced jerk he is when Tsushima slides over a couple of bills.

"What's this?"

"For the cab ride you had to pay. And an apology."

"Sir, I really don't--"

Tsushima's phone rings and he gives Chuuya a nod that basically says /goodbye./ "You can keep the drink. And close the door behind you."

Leaving the office, Chuuya feels dirty. Sorting out his issues with Dazai himself is one thing, but having his father doing it for him?

That feels childish. Not satisfying whatsoever.

As he lies in bed that night listening to his sleeping playlist, he wonders what he cost Dazai. His relationship with his father already seemed distant before, but now it looks even grimmer,

and Chuuya hates that he's partly responsible for that.

--

He doesn't get a chance to even talk to Dazai since he seems to be gone whenever Chuuya's around. It's unsettling as it relieving. What even would he say?

"I'm sorry I caused you even more problems with your father because I saw you kissing someone and went home with a stranger instead of confronting you about it?"

It seems silly. And Dazai doesn't seem like the type to care about something like apologies. They're just words.

When Chuuya does finally catch him in front of the coffee machine, almost five days after the visit to the ballet school and that awful conversation with his father, Dazai has new bandages. Around his left eye, of all places.

"What did you do?" Chuuya asks, frowning at it.

"I tripped and fell down the stairs," Dazai replies and grabs his cup before pouring an unholy amount of sugar in it.

"And injured your eye?"

"Well, you see, there was this very sharp edge."

"/Dazai./"

"Don't make that face, Chuuya. It doesn't look pretty on you."

tw implied abuse

His father didn't... did he?

The thought alone makes Chuuya nauseous, and Dazai's insistence on talking around in circles like the local court jester isn't helping.

"Can you stop fucking around?" he snaps.

At least, Dazai stops grinning. "Get that stick out of your ass, chibi." He shrugs. "Sometimes the people at university like to throw around balls and catch them for entertainment. As you can see it's very dangerous."

Some of Chuuya's muscles unclench.

"You got it from sports?"

"I could illustrate it for you if it's too hard to imagine," Dazai jokes and pokes his cheek. "Just give me your face and a ball."

"I'm fine," Chuuya replies curtly, busying himself with putting some of the dishes away, "thanks."

"Suit yourself ~"

He only stops fussing when Dazai disappears behind the corner.

Chuuya feels like he's swallowing rocks.

Could Dazai have been lying? Absolutely. Could Chuuya be freaking out just because of what Tsushima said that one? Totally.

The idea that Dazai's father could have done that feels absurd. He's a distant and strict man, yeah, but surely he wouldn't do shit like this, right? Especially not when a guest lives with them. It's too obvious. It's /absurd./

Right?

But it could be.

Chuuya can't just look away because he /thinks/ Dazai's father is not shitty enough to be abusive.

He could ask Dazai, yeah, but he doubts he'd get any sort of clear answer out of him.

He could ask Hayashi, but that could be overstepping the line.

In the end, he can't really do anything but... wait and see, which he loathes with every burning cell in his body. It feels too much like looking away. And having lived the first seven years of his life in the system, Chuuya knows what's it like when the people around you close

their eyes because they're uncomfortable. Because there's not enough evidence. Or to /wait and see./

Piece by piece, it ruins you.

--

On Saturday, Chuuya meets Tachihara for that promised drink. He apologizes for the interrogation that happened because of him, and after two beers, Tachihara has already forgotten about it, happily showing him pictures of the tattoos he did in the past.

Tachihara's fun in a dorky sort of way, easy to talk to, and he shares valuable insider-knowledge on the best gyms in the city with him, which basically makes them best friends. He also introduces Chuuya to the bizarre man that works the bar, a guy who's really into lemons.

Even though Chuuya truly did come here for /friendship/ he still ends up getting shoved against the wall of a shabby storage room. He's been stressed lately and this helps. /So what./

Chuuya's pretty sure Tachihara is taking this as seriously as him, so he doesn't waste any more time than necessary overthinking it while he takes the subway home later that night.

Dazai is once again a rare sight at home.

Hayashi assures him that's it's just uni keeping him busy, seemingly amused by Chuuya's apparent concern, but he can't stop thinking about Tsushima's words and the bandages around Dazai's eye. It keeps him up at night, distracted throughout the day.

So much that he only realizes he's taking Gin to the ballet school when he gets into the car that will take them there -- Hayashi's orders.

Chuuya should really start looking into getting an international license. He wants to be behind the wheel, not getting chauffeured around.

It's still odd to enter the huge dancing room and /not/ see his old trainer, waiting for him with a coffee in one hand and a camera in the other, but he doesn't break into pieces this time.

He considers that a step forward. A tiny one, though, at least, in the right direction.

The house is rarely full except for sundays -- and then only for breakfast and dinner, but Mondays are the quietest. Hayashi and Tsushima are at work, Dazai god knows where, and Ryuu taking violin lessons a few blocks away. Chuuya still feels awkward spending more time than

necessary outside his or the children's room, but on days like this... he spreads out on the couch in the ginormous living room and watches whatever is running on TV.

Today life has other plans. He hears the door fall open and shut not even ten minutes into it.

Chuuya glances up from his phone to see Dazai come to a stop when he notices him, a bemused smirk on his face. "Hard at work?"

"Yup," he says, though he's a bit busy staring at the lack of bandages around Dazai's eyes. They're gone. His eye looks fine. Well, it does /now./

Who knows what it looked like a week ago. Chuuya considers his options and makes a silent decision, offering Dazai a hesitant smile. "Want to join me?"

If Dazai's surprised he doesn't show it. He leaves a considerable space between them when he falls down on the couch,

stretching and letting out a long breath. Even with all those inches between them, Chuuya feels like the room has grown ten times smaller, Dazai's presence effortlessly drowning out everything else. He hates that Dazai has that effect on him. It's annoying.

"So how was your date with Tachihara?" Dazai asks.

Chuuya crosses his arms. "It wasn't a date."

"Wasn't it?"

"No," he mutters. "We're friends. Apparently, these are hard to come by here."

Dazai gazes at him in silent protest. "/I/ could be your friend."

"Really?" Chuuya snorts as he holds his stare with an incredulous expression of his own. "Somehow I'm having trouble believing that."

"I am an excellent friend. Ask anyone."

"All your /friends/ kept saying that they haven't seen you in ages."

"Okay, then ask /Akiko./"

"So you have /one/ friend."

"Quality over quantity, chibi," Dazai tells him like they're in a lecture about product management.

"Fine." Chuuya braces an elbow against the couch and gives him a shrug. "If you insist. Be my friend."

"Great."

"Awesome. So when are you free?"

Dazai raises a brow.

"You know that thing friends do?" Chuuya tries. "Hanging out?"

"Chuuya wants to hang out with me?"

"I want to hang out with somebody. It just so happens that you offered."

The looks that he gets is a /sure, you don't/ one.

Pretty bold for a guy with one friend.

Dazai checks the date on his phone before glancing at him. A loose strand of hair sticks out at the back of his head, making him look funny. "I'm going to be in the city tomorrow. Want to join me?"

"Yeah," Chuuya says. "Sure. Okay."

+

"Are you really trying to tell me you've never played /the sims/?"

"Yes."

"That's impossible." Chuuya shoots Dazai a disbelieving look. "/Everyone/ has played the sims at least once in their life."

Dodging some guy that's in a rush, Dazai holds up a finger. "/Improbable/."

Then he smiles, clearly amused. "I don't know what you want me to tell you. I never played it. I've heard of it, yes, but I've never, not once, sat down and thought to myself /Oh, I'd like to create a fake family and make them live in pixel houses./ Frankly, it sounds boring."

"Then you clearly missed out," Chuuya says, shaking his head. "It's about so much more than building houses or whatever you think it is. It's about playing god. You can let your sims just swim in a pool for ten hours until they die of thirst and exhaustion."

"Oh, wow. That pretty head of yours is even darker than I thought it was."

Chuuya scowls when the idiot pokes him in the head. "You'll have to try it out one day."

"Mmm."

There aren't many things Chuuya's sure about. For instance, this here.

They're strolling through the city and talking to each other like civilized people. As if they're actually friends. As if Chuuya didn't want to throttle him less than two weeks ago. And somehow it's less awkward than he expected it to be, and, kind of, fun.

So yeah, life is weird and full of surprises, but Chuuya's 100% sure that he /will/ make Dazai play the sims one day. Maybe he can get it for his birthday. Or, for Christmas in two months.

Dazai's phone buzzes and he holds it to his ear. "Hey -- yeah, I'm actually close --

-- no idea -- okay --" Lifting his hand, he takes a look at the gold watch around his wrist. "-- give me five minutes."

A moment later, Chuuya feels Dazai's hand on his shoulder, steering him into an alley. "Small change of plans."

"Who are we meeting?"

"Akiko."

"Oh."

"She just needs to give me something. It won't take long," Dazai says. "I think."

"I don't mind," Chuuya tells him with a shrug that hopefully doesn't look all too pathetic. "Aside from that whole, you know, thing, she was pretty cool."

"Oh, she is. She's a treasure."

They're supposed to meet at a small coffee shop with a pug logo on the vitrine, though Yosano arrives two minutes after them with an iced coffee and a marvelous smirk, looking like a picture-perfect princess that stepped straight out of a fashion magazine.

Last time, Chuuya was distracted, but now he gets to appreciate all of that.

Yosano greets Dazai with a hug and a cheek on the kiss, then does the same with Chuuya. She smells really nice, too. After taking a step back, she raises her brows.

"You didn't mention you're bringing the French boy."

"He needs friends," Dazai says.

"Ah."

Chuuya shoots him a scowl before turning back to Yosano. "It's nice to see you again."

"You're not such a bad sight either," she tells him with a wink before motioning between them.

"So did you two -- ?"

Oh.

Oh no.

"I need friends," Chuuya echoes in a blurt. "Just friends. Nothing more."

"And he doesn't want to be a dirty mistress," Dazai adds next to him, ever so helpful.

Yosano looks very unimpressed by what she hears and takes a sip of her iced coffee before nodding towards a free table inside. "Let's sit down. I feel like so much happened in the last week, I don't even know where to start. And I need another coffee."

They order hot drinks and Chuuya studies more of the menu while only half-listening to whatever Yosano's talking about since he doesn't get most of it anyway. He only catches words like /Mori/ and /scrunchy business/ and /Ozaki./

Ozaki, he does know, though.

It's Gin's ballet teacher. Kouyou Ozaki.

"I'm annoyed she's annoyed because she shouldn't be annoyed," Yosano says, glaring at her steaming cup of coffee. "You need to talk to her."

"Kiko, she likes me even less than you," Dazai informs her, though judging by her look,

it's not exactly new information. Yosano lets out a low, annoyed sound in the back of her throat and taps her long fingernails against the table as she leans into her palm. "Anyways. What are we doing for Halloween?" Surprisingly, she turns to Chuuya.

"What do you and your friends do for Halloween? Do you really go from house to house and demand candy? Because that's pretty weird."

Chuuya chuckles into his cup. If she says it like that, trick or treating /does/ sound bizzare. "Only as kids," he says, "and I never did."

"How come?"

"I didn't exactly have the chance to do it before getting adopted, and afterwards, I guess I already felt too old." Dazai doesn't say anything, but his eyes on Chuuya feel like scorching brandmarks. So before he can reveal any more personal stuff that the bastard

can use for his stupid games, he steers the conversation towards safer grounds. "Sometimes my friends threw parties and we all dressed up. That's it."

Yosano makes a deep humming noise, nodding. "Maybe I should throw one."

"Here," Dazai slides his phone towards her.

"Motion blue is having a Halloween-themed night."

"What's that?" Chuuya asks.

"A club."

"A very good club," Yosano adds, waggling her brows before leaning back in her seat and holding a chest to her hand. "Thank god. I hate throwing parties."

Dazai's gaze finds Chuuya's and he cocks his head. "So, up for another party?" he asks, voice soft and amused. "They take costumes very seriously, though."

Chuuya huffs. As long as it doesn't end up like last time, he's pretty much open to anything.

--

The rest of the week is uneventful. Dazai's busy with school so not much around, but when he is, they chat -- it's 95% bickering -- which is nice. Chuuya tries out the gym Tachihara told him about. Diabolo gets a stomach bug and pukes on the floor of the living room.

A week before Halloween, there's a knock on Chuuya's door and when he opens, Dazai's standing in front of it and holding up /the sims./

"Oh my god," Chuuya all but gasps out. "You bought it?!"

"I was buying a flash stick, and then I saw it out of the corner of my eye and..."

Dazai gives him a shrug.

Chuuya ushers him inside and starts setting up the game on the computer while giving him a brief overview of the basics. When it's finished loading, Dazai takes his seat at the desk and...

It looks comical.

Dazai, wearing a sharp black suit that probably cost ten times the game, frowning at /the sims/ on the computer screen. It really is a picture worth more than a billion.

Chuuya mostly lies around on his bed, occasionally providing comments as Dazai creates his family.

They've been at it for a good hour when Chuuya's phone starts buzzing with an incoming facetime call from his parents. He's so used to taking their calls that he doesn't even think about it, finger immediately pressing to accept it.

He only remembers that Dazai's still in the room when his screen fills with the familiar sight of his two dads from the most unflattering angle ever. Chuuya can't help but grin. They're such dorks with technology.

"Hey," he says, switching to French, +

and /praying/ Dazai will have the decency to shut up and not say anything.

"Chuuya? Can you hear us?"

"Yeah, I can hear you. Loud and clear."

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dazai turn around in the chair.

"How are you?" Arthur asks. "Are they feeding you well?"

"Yeah, dad," Chuuya dutifully says. "They are. Actually, we had that dish you tried that one time? No offense, but it was so much better."

He sees Paul jokingly elbow Arthur before grinning into the camera. "Your father's an awful cook. I keep trying to tell him but --"

Chuuya has no time to register let alone do anything before Dazai's suddenly next to him, squeezing himself into the frame and saying, in flawless French, "Hi, I'm Dazai Osamu. Your son's host brother."

Who the hell voluntarily talks to someone's family on the phone?!

No one.

No fucking one, except apparently, Dazai.

His fathers wave into the camera and both start speaking at the same time, the connection lagging somewhat.

"Oh, we've heard so much about you!"

"It's nice to finally meet you!"

"Have you now?" Dazai drawls before shooting Chuuya glance. "You talk about me a lot?" he asks in Japanese.

"Shut up," he hisses back, fighting the flush on his neck, "you're part of the family. Of course, I had to mention you!" Then he turns back to his fathers.

"I was just showing Dazai how to play sims. That's all."

"The simps?" Arthur echoes with a frown. "Is that the animation series with the yellow people?"

"No, that's /the simpsons/, dad. I'm talking about -- you know what, never mind. We're just gaming."

"Don't game too much," Paul tells him with a conspiring wink. "Or you'll get a headache and we're not here to give you a little --"

"Okay," Chuuya exclaims. "I have to go now! Bye!"

"It was nice meeting you," Dazai hurries to say from the side, but

Chuuya has already cut the connection.

A loud silence descends over the room, only the quiet background music from the sims playing.

"You know," Chuuya eventually huffs, "you could have just continued playing."

"Now where would be the fun in that?"

He elbows the idiot.

"They seem nice," Dazai says then, voice quiet, almost sad.

Chuuya leans his chin on his folded arms. "They are."

"Do you have any siblings?"

"Nah. They weren't even sure about kids, but apparently meeting the seven-year-old with anger issues changed their minds."

He's not sure why he's telling Dazai this, why he's answering all of his questions instead of kicking him out of his room and stopping it before Dazai knows too much.

Maybe because he doesn't want to stop it.

They're friends now, right? And that's what friends do. They talk.

--

Three days before the Halloween party, Chuuya still hasn't found anything to wear. He's been googling and looking through pinterest, but everything he's found so far didn't impress him.

He might ask Dazai. After this dreadful dinner with the whole family around the table.

Chuuya likes Hayashi. A lot. The kids, too. And Dazai is... Dazai. But Tsushima seems to suck out all the breathable out of the room, every time he's present.

Chuuya has been watching him and Dazai, trying to see what's going on but there's nothing to see since they rarely talk.

Dazai only speaks when Hayashi's questions basically force him to, and then only in short, cut-off sentences, which is extremely odd to witness since the Dazai Chuuya knows /loves/ to hear himself talk. Everything about it just feels off.

Hayashi manages to wrestle out of them that they're going to a Halloween party in a few days and insists on making that the topic. "What are you going to wear?" she asks Dazai. "Are you going to match with Yosano again? Oh, I still have the pictures from a few years ago. +

You looked so lovely together."

Dazai takes a sip of his wine before setting it down and clearing his throat. "Actually, I have something to share." He slides a finger down the length of his glass, almost lazily. "Akiko and I broke up."

Chuuya nearly chokes on his noodles.

+

It gets so quiet, Chuuya feels like the harsh huff of breath his lungs release is the loudest sound in the world.

Dazai's gaze drifts to him. Heavy.

But Chuuya can't even return the stare, eyes immediately darting to Tsushima. /The relationship was basically business./

That's what Dazai told him about him and Yosano, right? /Business between their parents./ Which means, he just gave his father another reason to be angry, another opportunity to possibly lash out and hurt him.

Chuuya's fingers clench into painful fists under the table.

Tsushima wipes his mouth with a napkin before sparing his son an unreadable look. "What happened?"

"The answer is what /didn't/ happen," Dazai says with a shrug, "which is everything. I'm not going to marry someone who isn't in love with me."

"/Love/," his father scoffs.

"Love is something you can reserve for the affairs you f--"

"Gen'emon," Hayashi snaps.

"If it's something as frivolous as that, you can still fix it. And I suggest you do. That girl is the key to an empire and since you don't put in the work yourself, you rely on /her./"

Dazai leans back in his chair and stretches his arms over his head with a show. "Good thing that I don't care about that empire then, no?"

Tsushima stands up from the table, the chair screeching against the floor, but his gaze is cold, more disappointed than angry or mad.

Chuuya lets out a sigh as Hayashi goes on to fuss over Dazai.

Why would Dazai end the pretend relationship with Yosano all of sudden? Last he saw them, everything was fine. He doubts anything has changed about them being best friends. So why?

Not because of Chuuya, right?

Because that's a bit much -- way too much for /one/ failed attempt at hooking up weeks ago.

Dinner obviously doesn't last much longer after that, and when Dazai leaves the table, Chuuya follows him, catching up with him in the hallway.

"Dazai."

"Hm?"

"What are you doing?"

Dazai turns around, cocking his head. "Excuse me?"

"Why did you end it? It's not because of... what I said that one time, right?"

The laugh that comes out of Dazai is an ugly thing, terrible and mocking, and Chuuya would be offended if he wasn't also very confused.

"Oh, Chuuya. Although I do find that angry frown of yours adorable and although I wouldn't mind fucking it out of you if you asked, that's all there is to it." Dazai delivers the speech so nonchalantly, it takes a few moments until the words register.

"You were never part of the equation when we made that decision."

It's what he wanted to hear.

Really.

But Chuuya would be lying if he said it didn't bruise his ego at least a little bit. Everything about this is just humiliating. So fucking humiliating.

"Good," he presses out eventually, faking a smirk that feels like the grimace of a stupid clown. "Because it never would have worked anyway." Chuuya brushes past Dazai without waiting for an answer, taking a moment to bask in the sheer embarrassment once the door's safely locked.

"You're fine," he murmurs to himself after a few moments. "You're an idiot, but you're fine."

Flopping on his bed and taking out his phone, he distracts himself by looking for more Halloween inspiration. He needs something that isn't only a good idea but also that looks hot.

So hot that a certain bastard will regret ever saying these words.

--

In the end, it's a series of very spontaneous decisions. He discovers a very niche shop in the city that sells a variety of unconventional clothes, up to and including Halloween costumes. There, he finds it.

It's gorgeous, obscenely tight, and 100% sure to make every single head within a 10-mile-radius turn.

It's also very daring.

Now, don't get him wrong; back at home Chuuya overcame issues such as gender norms a long time ago.

Not only did his father make sure to teach him a lot, he also danced ballet for eleven years of his life, and eventually ignoring what others might or might not think about him became as easy as breathing.

But this is a bit different.

Chuuya's not with his family and friends.

He's going to be with /Dazai and his friends./ And even though, he's sure that the majority of them wouldn't be dicks about it, he doesn't like surprises. Especially, shitty ones.

So, while looking at himself in the mirror of the changing room, Chuuya makes a decision.

He takes out his phone and finds Yosano on Instagram in less than two minutes, shooting her a message. She replies not even thirty seconds later.

C: Okay, I know this is random but I'm trying on fits for tomorrow & I need you to tell me if this is too much

C: [attached image]

The attached image in question is him, wearing the black angel costume in latex -- well, fallen angel probably, but hey, he's an angel nonetheless. It covers his entire upper body, but cuts off at the thighs like a bodysuit, revealing miles and miles of his bare legs.

There's also a nice pair of wings at his back.

It's hot, it really is, and if it were possible, he'd probably go ahead and fuck himself, but since that's not the case, he has to rely on others to do that.

His phone buzzes.

Then again, and again, and again.

Y: Oh my god

Y: BABE

Y: DARLING

Y: I don't know whether I want to fuck you or be you right now

C: so I can wear that?

Y: If you don't, I will sneak into your room tonight and feed you knives. And then I'm stealing that outfit

Y: Where is it from btw

The price is hefty, but since Tsushima gave him that money for the cab, Chuuya's wallet actually looks pretty good right now, and the reaction of a certain bastard will make every single note worth it.

He leaves the shop with excitement buzzing in his stomach.

The next day, Dazai informs him through a text message that he should be ready by eleven. He hasn't been home in the last few days, which is probably, a side-effect of the break-up.

Chuuya's more than a little glad that Hayashi took the kids to a small party next door, and

that Tsushima only comes home around midnight, so that when the time comes, Dazai texting that he's in the hallway, he can saunter his way through the house without any distractions whatsoever.

The first thing he notices, or rather hears, is that Yosano is with him.

The second, that Dazai's wearing a fucking devil costume -- a silky red shirt with several buttons undone -- though they only reveal more bandages around his chest -- and a pair of horns on his head.

It's kind of cliche, but it also means that they fucking match.

Oh, and the third thing is that when Dazai spots him as he obliviously steers toward the kitchen, saying something to Yosano... he runs into the door frame.

Actually, head-against-the-frame runs into it.

Chuuya's pretty sure he hears his skull crack or something.

"Oh, jesus." Yosano's immediately by his side, snapping her fingers in front of his face. "Can you still see? Are you feeling sick?"

"I'm /fine/," Dazai says with a groan and makes a vague hand-gesture, pointing somewhere between Chuuya and the kitchen. "I just --"

"Yeah, you /just/," Yosano parrots him, and try as hard as he want, Chuuya bursts out into laughter. It makes Dazai glare, but when he glances at Chuuya again, he immediately looks up at the ceiling as if asking for strength.

Chuuya grins. "For a devil, you're quite clumsy."

"And for an angel, you're not really nice."

"Fallen angel," Chuuya corrects.

Shaking his head with a little sigh, Dazai brushes off his shirt and nods at the door. "We're going."

As they trail after him, Chuuya shoots Yosano a look.

"Do I even want to know who gave him the idea to go as the devil?"

"It looks like you already know," Yosano replies and punches his shoulder when he rolls his eyes. "Trust me, I did you two a favor."

"So far, all you gave Dazai is a /head concussion/."

"Ah, details."

+

Chuuya's not surprised anymore when he sees a limousine waiting in front of the house, but that doesn't stop him from admiring it for a second.

"We're picking up a few people," Yosano explains when she notices his look.

"Obviously,"Chuuya says with a nod.

Back at home, he and his friends squeezed themselves on the four-seaters in the subway when they went somewhere because none of them had enough money for a car, let alone a limousine.

It's a nice change in routine, Chuuya supposes.

Yosano fishes out a bottle of champagne +

out of the fridge -- because there is a /fridge/ -- as soon as they're inside and seated. Music starts playing over the speakers, and combined with the fancy seats, the purple neon-lighting, and the TVs, he feels like he landed in an episode of Keeping Up With The Kardashians.

"Let's toast," Yosano exclaims, raising her glass, "to a night that hopefully will end without you --" her gaze slides to Chuuya -- "running off somewhere without telling anyone, and you --" she looks at Dazai "-- being a ginormous asshole to people."

"Cheers," Dazai drawls.

Yeah, cheers to that.

It can't end up in a disaster like last time -- it won't. Because this time, Chuuya and Dazai are sort of friends, and this time, there are no more secret relationships between them anymore.

A little, harmless fun.

That's all he wants tonight.

They pick up Ranpo who's dressed as the sexy version of the Cheshire cat from Alice in wonderland -- Chuuya realizes his concerns about being too much were, in fact, futile, Kunikida in a Thor costume, Tanizaki who's... Hercules?

The last person that piles into the car is Higuchi, wearing her hair in two red- and blue-colored pigtails and a matching Harley Quinn outfit.

Or, Chuuya /thought/ she'd be the last to join. A few minutes later the car stops again. Not in front of a club,

but a tall building complex. When the doors open, two guys, Chuuya hasn't met yet, climb inside.

Both tall. One of them sporting short, dark-red hair and a scruff; the other one black hair and glasses; both in Harry Potter robes.

Chuuya figures they're Harry and Ron.

Their names are Oda and Ango, though it takes Chuuya several minutes to figure out who is who in wake of the loud, chaotic whooping and yelling inside the limousine.

By the time, they arrive at the club, Chuuya's tipsy with champagne and the energy of reckless young people.

The club is /packed/. Chuuya sees people wearing all kinds of costumes from Sailor Moon to someone in an avocado suit.

Dazai's people obviously have a lounge reserved for them, but this time Chuuya's actually glad about the extra breathing room,

the crowd inside making it hard to take one single step without invading someone else's space. It gets quite annoying after two minutes.

There's an extra bar for the VIP guests, so to speak, too, and no one hesitates to start ordering more. Chuuya's been chatting with Ranpo,

yet he can't help but notice Dazai speaking animatedly to Oda on the other side of the room. There's a smile on his face, and it's startingly unfamiliar in its genuineness.

It looks like he has more than one friend, after all.

Chuuya tears his eyes away, trying to focus on

what's Ranpo telling him, something about a ski trip in Switzerland, but his mind stays glued on the topic of Dazai. His outfit accomplished the opposite of the goal because Dazai hasn't really spared him any words or glances, almost as if avoiding him.

That's good too, right?

The thing that's been flaring between them ever since that birthday party screams /messy./ So does everything else about Dazai. Chuuya doesn't want messy. He wants /easy. Simple./

Despite it all, he still can't seem to stay away from Dazai.

Every time Dazai backs off, Chuuya wants him back in his space, and every time, he comes too close, Chuuya's alarm bells go off like wailing sirens, demanding as much distance as possible.

He hates this stupid head-fuckery.

After drinks and even more drinks, someone suggests going dancing, and Chuuya's drunk enough not to get hung up on that little word for once, his limbs craving to do /something./

On the dancefloor and later on the way to the bathroom, Chuuya gets about a hundred compliments

on his costume and replies just as enthusiastically as the drunk girls talking to him before Yosano drags him back to the dancing floor. He's not sure /how/ and /why/ the topic comes up, but at some point, Yosano yells into his ear, "/I/ wanted to end the fake relationship!"

It's so loud that they have to hold onto each other to understand anything.

"But why?" Chuuya asks.

"There's something I want and --" A girl bumps into them, then stumbles away. "-- and I can't have it with a fake boyfriend on my side!"

"Something?"

Yosano's drunk enough to make a face.

Not something. /Someone./

Fifty slurred, over-the-top-emotional words later, Chuuya finds himself pushing through the crowd at the bar to get himself water. The lounge seems miles away and he's dying of thirst.

"Having fun?"

He blames the alcohol for the way his face lights up with a grin when he looks up to see Dazai next to him. "More than you," he exclaims, elbowing him. "What are you doing here all by yourself?"

"Oh, I'm having plenty of fun."

"You'd be having more with us."

Chuuya momentarily breaks eye contact to order a water, then turns back to Dazai, not hiding that he's appreciating the view. Dazai's hair is messy, his shoulders broad as he leans against the counter and signals the bartender that he wants another drink.

/God./

"I'm not really the type to dance," Dazai replies.

Chuuya's chest rumbles with laughter. "That's the worst excuse I've ever heard."

Dazai's head tilts.

"Come on. It's not hard. You just move your body to the music. That's literally it."

"Says the dancer."

"Ex-dancer."

"A bird doesn't stop being a bird just because it doesn't fly anymore."

Chuuya wants to reply that his analogy is even lamer than his excuse but a few rowdy people next to him push him forward and right into Dazai's chest, cutting off his words. A hand on his back steadies him.

It's such a simple gesture, but it's enough. Chuuya feels every little spot where their bodies press together searing straight into his core.

Dazai's so grounding. So calm. When the world gets overwhelming he's there with a hand on his back to guide Chuuya through the storm.

With a craving that makes his head spin, Chuuya realizes he wants that. Or him. In whatever way there is. He just wants it.

"Come," he says eventually, offering Dazai a hand. "It'll be fun."

And after a moment of breath, Dazai does.

It's pure chaos weaving their way through the bodies, but all Chuuya can feel is the firm grip of Dazai's hand around his as he tries to get back to the group. His hand is a bit bigger, fingers longer. And it fits perfectly.

Finding their people isn't easy, but Chuuya

forced himself to remember the spot when he left earlier. As fun as it could be to find entertainment on his own, he doesn't want a repetition of last time. No cab rides at 5 in the morning. He has a plan, and it involves waking up in his own bed.

Higuchi and Yosano are off somewhere, but the others are there where Chuuya last left them. Too drunk, too caught up in the moment to even notice that Dazai's with them now.

Chuuya lets go of Dazai's hand to turn around, offering him a playful smirk as he moves with the crowd.

The one thing he realized tonight was that Yosano did have good intentions when she made them match. There were quite a few people wanting to take him tonight, one girl even scribbling her number on his thigh, and even more wanting to dance with him. And Chuuya did.

He and everyone else would be lying if the dance floor of a club like this wasn't a front to grind against complete strangers and have harmless fun. But matching with someone, matching with Dazai, gives the people around them a signal. They're a pair.

And right now, Chuuya doesn't want a pair of stranger's hands on him. He doesn't want them on Dazai either.

Unfortunately, not everyone seems to get the message.

Chuuya jerks when he feels a body basically wrap around him like a slimy snake, the touch too forced, too clunky.

The way Chuuya tenses up should be indication enough to back off a little, but apparently, the stranger takes that as a signal to grind their hips forward as their hand moves down the length of his chest. He almost gags when he feels a puff of wet breath against his neck.

Freeing himself isn't hard per se, just a little dehumanizing, so Chuuya's all the happier when Dazai's there in an instant, brushing the guy aside. It's not so much as a rescue, but a takeover.

A back presses against him again, but this time it's Dazai.

And it's good. It's perfect. His hands molt to Chuuya's waist. His hips mold to Chuuya's back. His touch molds to that hollow place inside Chuuya that craves this like it's something tangible, like his lungs will stop working without it.

With every roll of hips, the grip on Chuuya's hips gets tighter, but that only seems to stoke the fire inside him, a loose breath escaping him. He cranes his neck a little, maybe in invitation or to see if Dazai /will./ Whatever the motivation behind it, it evaporates in a cloud

of mist when he feels Dazai's mouth ghost across skin -- never touching, just teasing. A phantom promise of /what could be./

Chuuya's spine arches as if struck by lighting.

It's unfair how little it takes Dazai to undo him.

So unfair. But Chuuya's never been one to go down without a fight.

The song speeds up, his hands reach back to ground himself on Dazai's hips as his ass pushes back, controlling the friction and angle with cruel precision.

Dazai might be an excellent liar, but he's just a man.

A man with a body like everyone else and natural reactions like everyone else. Reactions that Chuuya can /feel/, right there behind him, pressed against the curve of his ass. Dazai's erection feels hard. Big.

So big, it kills him a little that they're in public right now.

Not just a little.

Dazai lets his hand travel down until it reaches the end of his costume and pinches the material, letting it slap against Chuuya's bare skin. "Do you even realize," he murmurs into the shell of his ear, "how much trouble you are?"

"If I'm trouble," Chuuya breathes, "then you're downright criminal."

Dazai uses his costume again to spin him around, leaning down to him until he's just shy of the finish line. "We're going home." Then he draws away.

The words snap Chuuya out of the moment, making him blink.

"Wha...?"

Dazai doesn't offer any explanations, simply taking Chuuya's hand and leading him through the crowd. It's not that late, and they don't say goodbye to any of his friends, if it weren't for Dazai's unsettling silence, Chuuya would be excited.

As it is, he just feels weird and robbed of more shameless, public grinding.

The fresh air outside of the club not only sobers him up but makes that silence feel even louder so that when they climb into Dazai's car -- not the limousine, Chuuya can't hold it in any longer.

"Can you please just talk to me?" he snaps, staring at Dazai. "Because if it was too much or you simply don't want to do this, then it's fine, whatever, I just can't stand the fucking silent treatment."

It's Dazai's turn to look surprised. "You'd seriously think that?"

"I don't know! You tell me!"

Dazai says his name and when Chuuya keeps glaring at space next to his eyes, but not at them, he grips his chin and makes him look at him. "If I could, I would have fucked you right then and there."

Oh.

"Why didn't you?" His voice is breathy.

"You know, there are storage rooms for that. I bet the lounge even has fancy ones."

Dazai's eyes narrow a little and then his hand pulls back. "You know, you're really different than I thought you'd be."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I thought you always pulled back because you were afraid. Maybe inexperienced. But I think I miscalculated you."

Chuuya's brow quirks a little and he huffs out a laugh despite himself. "Are you calling me a slut?"

Dazai's look is answer enough.

Wow.

The worst thing about this is that Chuuya doesn't mind. No, part of him actually likes it.

"What do you think happened with Tachihara when I went home with him?" Chuuya can't resist asking in a taunting voice. "You think we played Mario Kart all night?"

Dazai's smile isn't very nice. "I thought you wanted to piss me off and did whatever it took to make that happen."

"Oh my god," Chuuya says, shaking his head. "Look who's the one projecting /now./ I'm not scared of sleeping with you, Dazai. It's the part that comes after."

"You can't do casual sex?"

"Of course, I can, but you're my fucking host-brother."

Dazai clearly doesn't see any problem in that. "So?"

"What if your family finds out?"

"They won't."

"But what if they will? There's always a chance of stupid shit happening. What then?"

"We deal with that when it comes to it," Dazai murmurs, voice heavy like syrup. "Right now, I think you're just looking for excuses."

He's not. Really. It is a valid concern.

Especially considering Dazai's already strained relationship with his family. His father.

"I hate you," Chuuya whispers but ends up sounding breathless. "I hate you so much I want to put your face through the window."

Dazai's fingers cup his jaw. "Tell that to someone you didn't rut against like an animal in heat just half an hour ago."

Chuuya can't believe he's about to kiss this asshole.

But the moment is perfect.

Dazai's close. So close Chuuya can smell the whiskey he drank tonight, and the cigarette he smoked -- without /him/, a stupid part of him thinks.

So close he can see the birthmark underneath his lower lashline. So close he realizes just how dark his brown eyes and how easy it would be to lose himself in them if he stares a little too long.

All Dazai has to do is press forward. Close the fucking distance.

Then Dazai does, and Chuuya can feel his pulse in his ears, shivering when he feels lips brush against him, so maddeningly slow and light, and downright gasping when the bastard pulls away.

/Again./

"Look at that," Dazai says. "We're home."

To Dazai's credit, the car does, in fact, stop, but Chuuya's fists remain closed as he squeezes his eyes shut in a pathetic attempt to keep his wits. /What the fuck does a guy have to do to get a simple kiss here?/

A kiss.

Just a fucking kiss.

That's all he needs.

Chuuya only unfolds himself from his position and climbs out of the car because being home must mean that Dazai's stupid teasing will end.

If not, then Chuuya will put on a show himself and make Dazai watch, not touch, to show him what this feels like. Awful. It feels awful.

When Dazai opens the door of the house, it's eerily silent. A glance at the clock reveals that it's a little past 3 in the morning -- or night, considering how you look at it.

They kick off their shoes in silence, and then there's really not much to do except... /walk./

Chuuya looks over his shoulder, making sure that Dazai's actually following him. That this isn't a misunderstanding. Dazai's there, though. Silent, but radiating smugness.

By god, that little trip to his room has never felt as agonizingly slow and as short as this one.

Every step fills the air with more tension, so by the time, Chuuya hears the soft sound of his door falling shut behind them, he's ready to burst into flames.

He glances at Dazai who is leaning against his door. He swallows.

"Do you want to hear a truth?" Dazai asks.

That stupid game again? Now?

"Fine," Chuuya says and fights off a frustrated sigh, "humor me."

"Truth. Seeing you in that --" Dazai's head shakes a little. "-- costume and not doing anything about it has been the hardest thing I've ever had to. I want to rip it off you, but+

I'm also considering leaving it on, just to see what it looks like while I push you into the mattress."

Now that... that is a truth Chuuya can do something with.

"Why not both?" he asks and crosses the distance only to be met in the middle with a bruising, first kiss.

It's a little overwhelming to go from nothing to /this/ -- Dazai's hands on his face, his lips sliding against him with downright painful urgency, and their hips rocking together, creating friction that demands more and more and more.

Chuuya loops his arms around his neck, and the hands in his face slide down his entire body until they meet bare flesh, caressing the back of his thighs, then slipping under the costume and squeezing his ass. It makes Chuuya gasp softly. Blindly grind against his thigh.

His heart hammers when Dazai picks him up and his legs part around his waist. It's not the first time Chuuya is being carried like this, but it's the first time this high up in the air, the first time kissing this man, and the first time getting dumped on the bed like a sack of +

rice, eliciting a quiet "oof" -- one that clears a bit through the haze in his mind. "We have to be really quiet," Chuuya whispers as Dazai kneels on the edge of the bed, pausing. "Like, /not a sound./ Your parents can't think that I'm fucking someone in here."

After a moment, Dazai says, "We'll go to my room."

"Ha?"

"They can't do anything if it's me fucking someone in my room," Dazai says with a smirk and then makes a face. "And your bed makes a lot of noise. I should know."

The hand tugging his wrist doesn't give him enough time to overthink the fact that all this time Chuuya has been sleeping in a bed that Dazai has screwed in before. Chuuya stumbles to his feet, then halts again at the door. "Wait. Do you have condoms?"

"Who do you take me for?"

"Lube?"

Dazai's reply doesn't come out as quickly this time. /Interesting./ "Yes."

Chuuya nods and they leave out of the door, silently tip-toeing up the stairs and to a room on the right that he hasn't even been to once before. Dazai's.

He only sees that it's quite dark and big before being shoved against the door. Not that he minds. There will be time for a room tour later, or tomorrow, or literally any other time. Just not now.

Chuuya lets Dazai tilts his head up for him, making the kiss deep and filthy.

He usually doesn't give himself time for a lot of kissing because he doesn't get mind-rattling orgasms from it but... when the person is good at it, he thinks hazily, chasing Dazai's lips like his dying breaths, it can be even better than a sloppy handjob.

And Dazai is good.

He's slow and thorough and every time Chuuya demands more, he denies him, which, as crazy as it sounds, makes the whole thing feel a thousand times better. He's gasping with trembling hunger by the time Dazai's tongue slips into his mouth. Then he falls apart on it.

Somehow, Chuuya's not sure how, they make it to Dazai's bed -- huge with black sheets -- and he ends on his lap, grinding his hips down over and over again in time with the slide of their lips, Dazai's hands massaging the flesh of his ass.

The fucking costume, though --

Chuuya turns his face an inch, releasing harsh breaths into Dazai's cheek. "I know--I said we can keep it on but for the love god please take it off right now."

"Uncomfortable?"

"It's hurting my ass. And not in a good way."

He feels Dazai's chuckle reverberate in his chest.

"Let's get this off then." Dazai blindly finds the zipper on his back and uses it. As the pressure around Chuuya's body eases, he realizes that he's really doing this.

Sleeping with Dazai. The person he will have to see for the next 11 months because he /lives/ with him.

It could ruin his au pair year. It could ruin Dazai's relationship with his family. It's the most stupid thing he'll probably have ever done, and there's not a single cell in his body that wants to stop.

Dazai helps him with the upper body part of the angel costume.

!!!!! explicit nsfw from here please read at your own risk !!!!!

It just gets tricky once they reach his hips because taking it off would require moving, and Chuuya feels quite at home in this position. Dazai's solution is to kiss him. Pull him down until he's on his fours. Then drag off that fucking costume.

It, more or less, works.

The room wasn't cold before, but now with everything off except the latex underwear that made sure nothing would fall out, Chuuya feels a shiver run down his spine.

"Are you planning to fuck me with your clothes on?" he murmurs, tugging impatiently at Dazai's shirt.

"Would it bother you?"

He supposes there is something hot about it; the utter contrast of them together, but... "Leave your weird bandages on for all I care," he mutters, "but the shirt gets off. The pants can stay."

"Chuuya's greedy."

"Says you."

Dazai still obliges him, letting Chuuya take off his shirt with top-speed just so he can finally map out Dazai's torso with his own hands. /Greedy/, indeed. He felt him against his back while they were dancing. He saw him hundreds of times around the house. But this is different.

So much better.

Chuuya lets his hand travel lower than his tummy, down his happy-trail, only to stop when Dazai's breath hitches ever so slightly. "Sucks to be on the receiving end, huh?"

Bracing himself on his elbows, Dazai returns his stare with amusement.

"I think I can survive a little petting."

Smiling, Chuuya leans down and captures his lips, loving how they feel against him. "I want to ride you," he whispers after a moment or two. "Can I ride you?" He even bats his lashes; craves to wash that smirk off Dazai's face.

The pitch in Dazai's voice is subtle but it's there. "You want that?"

Chuuya nods eagerly as he works to suck a kiss into the skin on Dazai's neck. He does. He wants it a lot.

"Go on then," Dazai tells him. "I'm not going to stop you."

The words make his skin burn.

Chuuya untangles from his neck long enough to take a look around. "Where's the lube?"

"Nightstand. First drawer."

Chuuya crosses that distance by crawling, swaying his ass back and forth while he's at it, before retrieving the lube.

When he turns back, Dazai's already waiting for him, reaching out with a hand to tug him closer --then he abruptly stops though, his touch becoming so featherlight, it makes Chuuya feel dizzy. "Your injury --"

"It doesn't matter," he quickly says.

Dazai's look is full of doubts and very annoying. "If there's something that would hurt you, then I'd like to know."

"Just don't... don't stretch it too long." Chuuya jerks his right leg. "Now shut up."

Talking about leg injuries isn't very sexy as far as he's aware.

Dazai uses Chuuya's hips this time to move him forward. Once he's within close distance his mouth leaves a series of kisses on his stomach, his hand slides beneath the waistband of his underwear, wraps around his cock and the little frown between Chuuya's brows melts into a sigh.

Dazai's fist feels feverishly hot around him. Tight and warm and --

"Take these off," Dazai says before grabbing the lube.

Chuuya doesn't mind the switch in dynamics. It's a bit new to him, but with Dazai not very surprising, so he silently gets rid of the underwear,

and straddles his hips, suppressing a groan at the way the rough fabric of Dazai's pants feel against his bare skin. He's curious to see where Dazai might take this, but he's also very strung out and in need of -- of something -- anything, so--

"Come on, Dazai," he half-snaps.

"Your family members are early birds."

"You have no ounce of patience, do you?"

"Dazai --"

"Shh," it's not his lips against his neck that shut him up, but the single finger that presses against his rim, massaging the skin more than anything, really, but it's /something./

"You really are anything but inexperienced, are you?"

Dazai doesn't seem to push in that fucking finger any time soon, so Chuuya does the job himself. It's not easy from this angle, and it's not like this is a cock -- /hard/ to miss -- but he makes due anyway, +

rocking down on it with a hiss directed at Dazai. "W-what do you want to hear, asshole?"

"Did you imagine yourself riding me while you were in your bed at night? Dream about rocking down on me just like that?"

/Fuck./

"Yeah," he breathes out because he /has/. "More, Dazai."

At least, Dazai grants him that, slipping in a second finger before pulling him close with a firm hold on his chin. Dazai sucks a kiss into his lips and says, "C'mon, let me see you ride my fingers."

Chuuya's brain goes a little haywire after that.

Shifting, he braces his hands on Dazai's legs and starts a fast, shallow rhythm, not nearly precise enough to reach his prostate, but enough to open him up for the main dish. And from what Chuuya has felt earlier, Dazai's not exactly small. His cock twitches at the thought alone.

The heat in his stomach demands something deeper, something that will grind straight into his prostate and send him over the edge, but Chuuya can't stop now, not when Dazai's here looking at him like that.

"More," he hisses, a drop of sweat rolling down his chest. "I need --"

Dazai adds a third finger, but this time when Chuuya rolls his hips down, Dazai thrusts upward, meeting him in the middle. It's a clumsy rhythm at first, yeah, but it reaches deeper. It makes his legs shake with the effort and the desire coiling in his guts, but it feels so good.

The moment, he feels Dazai stroke his prostate, Chuuya lets his movements falter, taking one moment to breathe, then to move forward and tangle his fingers in his hair. "Okay, okay, okay," he breathes, "I'm ready -- I am --"

The bastard dares to smile. "Are you now?"

+

Dazai's hair is soft, almost silky, but that doesn't stop Chuuya from tugging until his grip borders on painful. "Yes," he hisses, returning the question in his eyes with violent determination, "I am."

"Since you're asking so nicely..." Dazai nods down at himself.

"My wallet's in my pocket. Condoms are there."

Chuuya fingers shake a little as he fumbles around in Dazai's pants until he finally feels the rough outline of his wallet and pulls it out, hurrying to open it until he spots condoms. His movements stutter when Dazai's fingers +

deliver three dead on thrusts into his prostate before slipping out. After shooting the bastard a glare, Chuuya shifts on his lap until he can get his hands on his belt, taking care of it with quick and efficient skill before doing the same with his black slacks.

Getting off the briefs, Chuuya feels like it's Christmas morning and he's unpacking his present. And here it is, his gift wrapped in expensive material and clearly just as happy to see him.

As impatient as he might be, Chuuya still has enough strength to savor this moment.

He palms his trapped erection softly, getting a feel for him, and then glances at Dazai, throat going dry at the hungry gleam he finds in his eyes.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"Very," Chuuya murmurs, finally allowing himself to dip his finger below the waistband and drag them down.

The sight makes him swallow.

Yes.

Oh yes, he's enjoying himself /a lot./

For a moment, he feels torn between leaning down and getting a taste because not doing so would be criminal, but Chuuya's twitching with the urge to feel him inside already, /needing it./

Everything else can wait for later, or tomorrow, or any other day -- he chooses to ignore that he seems to have already made up his made about this not being a one-time thing. But really, how could he not repeat this?

In the end, Chuuya settles on wrapping his fingers around +

his length and stroke, slowly, before using his thumb to swipe the precome that wells there, lifting it to his mouth and letting his tongue lick it away.

The hand that's settled on Chuuya's hip clenches ever so slightly.

Chuuya doesn't go slowly with everything else;

he couldn't even if he wanted to.

After getting lube, he gives Dazai another few strokes from top to bottom before lifting his hips and positioning himself until he can feel the tip slide between his cheeks, that little pretaste alone driving him crazy.

He gives himself enough time to sink down and /feel/ every single inch of Dazai slide inside him. Then his patience just about snaps.

They both swear a little when Dazai bottoms out inside of him, and Chuuya leans forward, swallowing that breathless curse before +

pushing him down with a hand on his bandaged chest. It makes Dazai breathe even harder.

Chuuya shifts again, back arching and hands bracing on Dazai's thighs before he starts moving a little, creating an angle that makes him see sparks every time he rocks down.

/Jesus./

Maybe he should have let Dazai add another finger, but even with that little burn of too much, Chuuya doesn't find it in him to care. It feels too good. He feels too full to regret it.

Dazai's are like steel on his waist. The thought of bruises forming there makes +

him hiss and toss his head back as he fucks himself down on Dazai's cock. Bruises mean that he's alive. Bruises mean that Chuuya's body worked and felt something.

Chuuya moans but then he feels a hand cover his mouth.

"Quietly," Dazai tells him softly, sitting up, "remember?"

Chuuya's answer is a pitiful moan. Somewhere, yeah, he remembers but right now it's lost between the feeling of being stretched out on Dazai's cock, hurtling towards an abyss that seems so close and yet so far.

Dazai's fingers part, his thumb stroking Chuuya's lips.

It's a silent question and Chuuya doesn't hesitate to answer with a /yes/, opening up for him and letting his thumb press down on his tongue. Chuuya sucks. He sucks and groans quietly, exactly how he would around Dazai's cock.

With a renewed fervor in his blood, Chuuya picks up the pace and bounces on Dazai's cock, fast and deep and absolutely maddening in the way it abuses his prostate.

He's close. He knows he is. Quiet, little whimpering sounds escape his throat every time he sinks down again.

And it's when Dazai grips his hips again and holds him still, changing the rhythm so it's him fucking up into Chuuya and all but grinding into his prostate, milking him /dry/, that every muscle in his body locks and a second later, Chuuya comes.

It's so intense he has to clamp a hand over his mouth in order not to wake up the entire goddamn house -- even more so when Dazai pushes him down this time. As Chuuya clenches around him, still coming down from a shattering orgasm, Dazai fucks into him, until he stills, too.

It's all a bit disorienting. Chuuya breathless and gasping. Dazai above him, leaning his face against the muscles on his chest. Several long, blissful moments pass before the afterglow bleeds into the sweaty, gross reality.

"Jesus," Chuuya murmurs. "I need water."

Dazai's quiet as he slips out of him and discards the used condom in the trash while Chuuya finds a bottle of water on the nightstand and downs half of it in mere seconds.

Next, he needs a shower. He can't even bring himself to care that it might be loud and wake up the family.

"Chuuya," he hears Dazai say then.

"What?"

"You should have gone as cowboy."

Chuuya turns to blink at him.

"Get it? Because you like to--"

"Yeah, I fucking get it," he mutters and delivers a light slap to Dazai's thighs. "Ha, ha. Very funny. Now do you have a shirt?"

Dazai makes a show of looking around his room. "I don't know. Do I? In a room with all my clothes inside?"

"Just give me one."

"As a little souvenir?" the idiot asks, but thankfully he /does/ move to grab a shirt from the pile of ironed clothing on his chair.

"/No./" Chuuya catches what's tossed to him. "I just don't want to walk to my room butt-naked. And I'm not going squeezing myself into that fucking costume again."

"Whatever you say."

It's a big shirt -- at least, for him -- and covers him up to his thighs.

After he grabs his things, Chuuya glances at Dazai who's fumbling around in his closet for something, unsure if he should say something.

"You know where the way out is," Dazai provides casually, sparing them any awkwardness.

That's good. Perfect.

"Night."

"Good night ~"

+

When Chuuya wakes up the next morning, it takes him a few moments of serious digging through his memories to figure out whether last night actually happened, or whether it was just a painfully vivid dream -- it wouldn't be the first one involving Dazai.

As it is, it wasn't a dream. Last night happened.

Chuuya lies in his beds for a moment, mourning the loss of the peaceful au pair year he could have had if he had used his goddamn brain for once before he crawls out and gets ready to face the music.

He rounds the corner to the kitchen and is relieved to only see Hayashi sipping at a cup of coffee. Then something in the corner of his vision moves and Chuuya's little sigh gets stuck in his throat as Dazai comes out of the pantry, carrying a bottle of orange juice.

Of course.

Hayashi spots Chuuya and offers him a bright smile. "Good morning, Chuuya-kun."

"Morning," he says and deliberately steps out of Dazai's way, except he must have thought the same thing, moving into the same direction which makes them perform an awkward, little dance until +

with an aggravating smirk, Dazai touches his shoulder and guides him away from him.

"Here."

It sends a series of unwanted and breakfast-inappropriate images through Chuuya's mind, and he has to shake his head a little to snap out of it.

He still can't help but touch his hipbone, wondering if he'll find a bruise blossoming there later.

"I heard you had fun yesterday," Hayashi's voice cuts through his thoughts. "Dazai told me all about it."

It sounds so dirty considering last night's events that +

Chuuya nearly lets his plate drop. /She's just talking about the party/, he tells himself as he fills it with fried eggs. "Yeah. It was fun."

"What did you go as again?"

"Chuuya was a cowboy," Dazai replies in his place and pretends to throw an invisible lasso. "Yeehaw."

Chuuya exhales slowly.

Hayashi covers her surprise with a nod. "Oh? Do you have pictures? I bet your fathers would love to see what you're up to here."

"Uh," he sits down at the table, scratching the back of his neck, "my battery died the moment we left the house."

"Oh dear." Hayashi turns to Dazai then. "Did you take any pictures?"

Dazai actually gets out his phone. "Let me see." Chuuya all but stabs his food with the fork. "Mm, I fear not. It was so terribly dark in there, the pictures would have turned out bad anyway."

"One would think that with all the technology you kids have, you'd use it as much as possible," Hayashi grumbles a little.

"Sorry," Chuuya feels the need to say.

She waves him off with a sigh. "Will you take Diabolo for a longer walk today? +

I'm pretty sure I heard him ravaging the house last night. He's probably bored."

A piece of egg gets stuck in Chuuya's throat and he starts coughing, face flushing an angry red, eyes tearing up. It takes him a few moments and Dazai's clapping his back to breathe normally again.

"Are you all right?" he hears Hayashi ask, clearly concerned.

"I'm -- I'm fine." Chuuya's glad she's behind him and unable to see his face that would probably betray all kinds of information that she doesn't need to know. "And, of course. I'll power him out."

"Thank you! Make sure not to die, though."

Chuuya fakes a laugh. One that drops the moment she leaves the kitchen, and bleeds into a glare directed at Dazai instead. "You asshole."

"Hey, that last one wasn't even me."

"I meant the cowboy thing, bastard. +

Repeating jokes doesn't make them funnier."

Dazai smirks over the rim of his glass. "I still laughed."

"You might think it's funny, but there are actual things at stake," Chuuya mutters. And not just for /him./

"So you regret it. Is that what you're saying?"

The reply shoots out of Chuuya before he can even think about it. "No." He draws back, shaking his head. "I mean, not really. I had fun. I just think you should be more careful with what you say around your family."

"I had fun too."

"Duh."

Dazai's amused expression becomes even more amused, as he leans forward, tracing patterns into the table with his index finger. "So if I am more /careful/, then technically, there is nothing speaking against more fun. Correct?"

Chuuya's eyes narrow. "You want to make this a thing?" he asks, just to make sure he's not misinterpreting his words.

Dazai shrugs. "Not making it a thing would be a wasted opportunity. We're both handsome. And it was a good fuck. So why reduce it to one night only?"

There are many reasons why.

It greatly increases the chance of his family finding out. It can get complicated and messy, especially when you live together. Dazai might not even know what he's in for.

And yet.

Chuuya can't deny the hot flare in his stomach at the suggestion.

There are already a thousand images running through his mind of what they could do -- who is he kidding. What they will.

"I guess," Chuuya slowly says, playing with the fork in his mouth, "I can see where you're coming from."

"I knew that pretty head of yours is smart, too."

"I can still change my mind."

"Mm," Dazai hums and gets up to clear away his dishes, throwing a glance at the watch around his wrist. "I still have one hour before my lecture. You want to fuck?"

Chuuya's breakfast gets abandoned on the table.

+

It's been five days.

Five days of /having a thing/ with Dazai Osamu, which is basically just a euphemism for fucking whenever the situation allows it. To be quite, honest Chuuya has no idea what he's doing, but then again, he's not really thinking about it either.

Although Dazai might be a complicated person; the sex with him is surprisingly easy -- and good, on top of that. That's as far as Chuuya is willing to let his thoughts wander on that subject, especially when he's pretty busy right now. Dazai was barely home the last few days,

spending it at the library or at Yosano's place to study, which is why Chuuya is currently being pressed into the mattress of his bed.

/Two days are a very long time./

"Stop teasing me," he hisses, tossing his head back as he arches into the hips that are pinning him in place.

Dazai's breath against his neck is warm and soft. "I'm not teasing you, I'm /kissing/ you," he points out as if that actually matters!

"Dazai," Tangling his fingers in his hair, Chuuya all but forces the idiot to look at him. "I don't want kisses. I want you to fuck me."

Chuuya's momentary hope that Dazai's leaning away to get out of his fucking pants crumbles to dust when he just leans in to kiss him on the lips in time, though he can't help but kiss him back immediately either. He's good at that too.

Dazai clearly wants to make a point.

His hand comes up to Chuuya's jaw and holds him, controlling every slide of lips and tongue, because even though Chuuya would never admit it, the way his hips twitch every time is more than enough to betray him. Dazai's leg slides between his thighs, giving him something +

to grind against. And his tongue is too good, too hot not to fall apart on it.

When he pulls back, Chuuya can't help but chase him; it makes that bastard stop him with a thumb on his lips. "Now, what was that about not wanting to be kissed?"

"Okay, fine," Chuuya mutters. +

"I take it back."

"Say it."

"Don't overdo it, asshole."

"Say it or you won't get this," Dazai says motioning at his mouth, "nor this," he says and waves down their bodies.

Chuuya would call bullshit, except that in this /thing/ they have, +

he's the one who needs way more sex -- or, at least, who can't stand all the teasing. It's not like Dazai isn't into it -- because he definitely is. It's just that Chuuya needs... more. Way more. So he wouldn't put it past Dazai to actually get and leave him here.

And he can't have that.

Chuuya squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a loud, vexed breath. "Kiss me."

"Now make it believable," he hears Dazai reply. "Like you're not currently talking to a wet frog."

Opening his eyes again, he cups the back of Dazai's head, biting his lip +

as he does so and parting his mouth /just a tiny bit./ "Can I get a kiss?" he asks. "Please...?"

He feels Dazai's smirk against his lips, and even though it's annoying as hell, it's also infectious --

There's a loud knock on the door.

"Chuuya?" Hayashi's voice comes from the other side. "Can I come in?"

Chuuya rips away from Dazai at the speed of sunlight, shoving him down the bed and fussing with his hair and sweats at the same time. "Uh, yeah, just -- one sec!"

He spins to Dazai, shooing him away. "Go!"

"Where?" Dazai hisses. "I can't exactly jump out of the window!"

"Under the bed!"

"She'll see me! That only works in movies!"

Chuuya frantically looks around before nodding towards the bathroom. At least, Dazai doesn't argue.

It will only work if Hayashi doesn't look in there, but right now it's better than nothing. After Chuuya quietly shuts the door of the bathroom, and straightens out his clothes for the 600th time, he opens the main door. "Hi," he says and leans against his doorframe. "What's up?"

"Are you busy?" Hayashi asks with a polite smile. "It sounded like you were talking to someone."

"Oh, yeah. I just got off facetime with my fathers."

"I hope didn't interrupt."

"Not at all," Chuuya says with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry."

"So," Hayashi says, and to his utter distress actually steps inside his room, "I actually wanted to check in on you. See how you're doing." Her genuine smile manages to quiet some of the loud thunder in his chest. "It 's probably not easy to be so far from home."

Although Chuuya appreciates her concern, /really/ appreciates it, it simply could have not come at a worse time than this.

"I'm great. I like it here. I think your family is great, so there's nothing to worry about it!"

"I'm glad to hear it," Hayashi says with a nod. +

"I was a little nervous at first about Dazai. You see, he can be very... special in the way he acts and talks to people, but it seems like you two get along just fine now, right?"

Chuuya almost breaks character right then and there. "Yeah, we're, uh... good."

"Deep down, Dazai's a good kid. He just sometimes has trouble showing it. I'm glad he showed that to you." Hayashi moves back to the door, and Chuuya's just about ready to collapse from relief when she grabs the knob of the bathroom door. "I'm doing laundry. Do you have any?"

"No!" Chuuya replies /way too fast/, and lets out a little laugh, clearing his throat. "I mean, I just did laundry yesterday. I have none."

"Okay..." Hayashi says with a little frown before /finally/ stepping out of his room. "Then I'll see you at dinner."

"Yup..."

He waits an entire minute before he opens the door of the bathroom, feeling like a herd of elephants just trampled all over him. Lying is exhausting. How do people do it all the time?

Dazai, the little shit, is lying in the empty bathtub and playing games on his phone.

"You could have at least tried to hide," Chuuya snaps.

"Chuuya," Dazai says and makes a point of glancing around, "do I look like I fit into any of these little things?"

No. He does not.

With a sigh, Chuuya walks back to his bed and falls face-first on it.

A few moments later, the mattress dips under more weight.

"This was close," Chuuya mutters, voice muffled. "Too close." As good as the sex is, it's also incredibly hard to be quiet all the time. They're rarely actually alone. Someone's always in the house. It's dangerous.

Dazai's silent for so long that when he speaks, Chuuya startles a little. "I could move out."

Chuuya slowly lifts his head to stare at him. "What?"

"I could move out," Dazai repeats with a shrug like he's talking about doing the groceries. +

"Then we wouldn't have to sneak around anymore."

Move out just so they can fuck without any interruptions?

"Dazai," Chuuya feels the need to say, "you do know that this is... just sex, right?"

Thankfully, the look Dazai shoots him is mockingly enough to be positive that they're on the same page here. "I'm not proposing to you, silly. I've been meaning to move out for a long time actually. I might as well do it now."

Chuuya braces his cheek against his hand, frowning.

"I guess..."

Dazai lies down right across from him so there are only a few inches left separating them. "And then," he murmurs, using his sex-voice, "I could fuck you anywhere I want to and you could be as loud as possible." His index finger traces the length of his neck. +

"I could fuck you on the floor. On my bed. In the bathroom. On my desk in the office--"

"You'd have an office?"

"Of course, I'd have an office," Dazai tells him with his lips against Chuuya's jaw now. "I'm the heir of an entire hotel chain. Of a business empire."

Chuuya manages to blink through the haze in his mind. "I thought you weren't interested in all that?"

"Well," Dazai whispers. "I seem to have found a little motivation."

// end of part 1

hello, i’ll probably take a 1-3 day break before starting part 2 (that i will link down below when i start!) thank you all for reading 🥰♥️