(freshly) established skk, first (official) date
At first, Chuuya thinks he misheard it.
Dazai clicks his tongue at the baffled “hah?!” His composure seems to be running out. He tries not to show it, but Chuuya sees it in the tension in his body, in the subtle twitching of his face that he knows would be missed by anybody else but him.
Silence hangs in the air. Heavy, it drips poison onto the floor, hissing as it eats through the hardwood.
Dazai sighs. “I said,” he repeats, his voice higher than usual, “I want to take you out.”
Chuuya opens his mouth, but Dazai, as a rude bastard he is, cuts him off before he has the chance to speak. “As in a date. Not as in a murder. Although I’m starting to rethink it.”
A date. Desperately, Chuuya stares at Dazai, trying to find any indication he’s joking.
He’s not a date guy. Hell, neither is Dazai. All this lovey-dovey stuff feels plastic, unnatural. Holding hands? Writing Valentine’s Day cards? Whispering sweet nonsense to each other? Leave it for somebody else. It’s already a miracle they are… together? He’s not willing to put any more effort into whatever this is.
“Shitty Dazai,” Chuuya finally croaks. “Are you out of your mind?”
Standing at the bottom of the stairwell, staring at Chuuya from under a mop of dishevelled hair, Dazai looks weirdly small. He feels small, as if all his confidence left his body along with the stupid, cheesy question he had the guts to ask.
Still, he doesn’t break eye contact.
“Where’s the joke? Is there a camera here somewhere? You gonna dump a vat of pig blood on my head?”
Chuuya’s heart falls at the momentary change in Dazai’s face. After all these years, he has long gotten immune to his theatrics, but nevertheless, his heart races with anxiety as he watches Dazai grip the bannister and take a step up. And up. And up. And another one — until his face is finally on the same level as Chuuya’s.
It’s unnerving to see the hesitation in the man who always knows what he’s doing.
“I want to take you out. Someplace nice.” He tastes the words, as if unsure if he likes the flavour. “Like boyfriends do.”
Chuuya’s first instinct is to laugh at the ridiculous b-word Dazai has just dropped. Maybe even smack him for daring to describe them with this.
He doesn’t. The laughter halts before it even starts to bubble in his throat. His arms hang limply, all violence from them gone, as Dazai gently takes his hands.
“Just you and me,” he whispers. “Chuuya, please.”
Truth be told, Chuuya can’t imagine them doing this. Sitting in a restaurant booth and sipping wine to the gentle sounds of live music as a stuck-up waiter serves them a three-course meal feels too odd. Too normal.
The longer he looks into Dazai’s eyes, the more he craves to get a taste of this unfamiliar so-called normal.
Chuuya nods. At least he thinks he does — he’s not sure if his body cooperates at all, frozen in place at the fear of the unknown.
Judging by Dazai eagerly smashing their lips together, his mouth curling in a smile, his nuisance of a partner got the message.
The moment they walk into the restaurant, Chuuya has to take a moment to relax and calm his heightened senses. Undercover missions, or meetings with other organisations, Chuuya has been to fancy restaurants, shady bars and everything in-between countless times. He knows the etiquette, what wine goes with what meat, you name it — but it feels off-putting not to have a mission on his mind as they settle in a cosy, secluded booth. It’s harder than he expected to snap himself out of the work mode, and to ground himself, Chuuya grabs Dazai’s hand, letting out a breath as No Longer Human tingles his fingers with its sobering iciness.
It seems impossible to wrap his mind around the fact that all of this is just for leisure.
“Relax,” Dazai says, and Chuuya wants to laugh at how flimsy Dazai’s nonchalancy is as he tries to play it cool.
Regardless of their relationship shifting into something more… mature, Chuuya generally tries not to look at Dazai for longer than absolutely necessary. Now, in the intimate, inviting light of the restaurant, he catches himself stealing longer glances at him, until finally, he finds enough bravery to linger oh his bo- par- Dazai a bit longer than usual. In a tuxedo fitting his body just right, cleanly shaved, his hair neatly combed, he looks like a dream, no matter how much Chuuya hates to admit it.
“You look nice,” he hisses and slaps Dazai’s thigh. He hides his blush behind a glass of red that he practically rips out of the waiter’s hand. He isn’t sure if the words he says sound genuine at all. Like no other, he knows that here, in the kingdom of chic and glamour, the line between the real and the fake is non-existent.
Dazai’s laugh is soft. As if too shy to attract others’ attention, he leans closer. The glint of the brown eyes intoxicates Chuuya more than his wine ever can. The astringent taste in his mouth goes sweet as Dazai tucks a strand of Chuuya’s hair behind his ear and smiles. “You too. You always do.”
Chuuya knows Dazai like the back of his hand. He knows everything about him, including just how much of an obnoxious flirt he is.
Still, it always catches him off-guard.
“Idiot. Cut it out. You wanna fight?” Chuuya hisses, targeting Dazai’s thigh again, this time with more purpose. He feels weirdly perceived — none of the patrons is looking at him, and yet, he feels their presence, and this is enough to make him feel like a cornered animal. Fucking Dazai and his fucking “date” ideas.
“Chuuya, you are in public. Act a bit less feral, would you?”
“Your appetiser,” a male voice sounds, a hint of surprise in it as the waiter puts a cheese plate on the table. He cocks an eyebrow at Chuuya grabbing the lapels of Dazai’s tuxedo, and picks up a used napkin from the table as he rushes to leave.
Dubfounded, Chuuya stares at the variety of cheeses on the intricate plate. He should have probably waited to drink the wine until they got their appetiser. He feels tipsy now. Fucking Dazai.
Holding his hands up in pretend defeat, a beaming smile on his face, his words ring with amusement, with pure adoration that breaks the spell of the excessive opulence of the restaurant.
No matter the place, this is still Dazai. The idiot. The genius. The man who found the light. The man who left, but then chose to stay.
Chuuya lets go. As Dazai mumbles something, busily patting his tuxedo to straighten the creases, Chuuya feels his smile widen, until he can’t keep the laughter inside anymore and it bursts out, the sound so alien and yet so right in this stupid, posh establishment. A moment later, another one joins — and both of them bend in half, their tension fading as they share their joy, paying no mind to the odd looks they are receiving from well-dressed patrons. The masks are gone, and Chuuya has a hard time remembering why they needed them in the first place. Being themselves is more than enough — and the place they are in is nothing but a backdrop on the stage in the play of them.
As the night progresses, their cheeks get redder, and their heart fuller. This normal life does seem to have its benefits, and Chuuya knows he’d be willing to dip his toes into it more often.
And as much as he hates to admit it… This is a rare idea from Dazai that he doesn’t deem absolutely obnoxious. He likes it, and he knows he will even be willing to admit it to Dazai himself. Here, they are invisible, lost in the waves of gentle music and other people’s voices. It’s an odd place: despite its business, it’s capable of holding secrets, allowing them to enjoy themselves without having to hide behind closed doors and fake animosity. Here, kisses taste sweeter, and accidental touches hold more promises.
Usually, Double Black’s sightings in public mean menace, and Yokohama probably releases a sigh of relief at the unexpected truce that, this time, will probably last.
When they walk out, hand-in-hand, Chuuya’s world seems just a bit brighter, despite dusk already falling onto the city. It’s probably the wine’s fault. His heart sings with a previously unfamiliar tune, and he squeezes Dazai’s hand, smiling at how his fingers curl with his.
“Boyfriends” does sound nice. He can totally tolerate this cheesy word.
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