Chapter Text
Shifting, he buries himself further in the soft covers around him. Surrounded by his partner's best pillows and blankets, Dazai can feel himself let out a pleased sigh.
Every breath he takes, the scent staining the apartment bleeds into his mind, leaving him unable to think about anything else. The redhead wasn’t even in the room, but it was still driving him crazy.
His head feels empty because of it; it's simply too all-consuming. The smell urges all of his thoughts to chant the same thing, taming them. He can still feel them struggle in the back of his mind, but everything takes a back seat when his partner is around.
He sits up, letting the cover fall in his lap. The brunette doesn’t bother fixing his disheveled hair, even if one of his bangs is awkwardly poking under his face bandages. Maybe he should take them off.
The couch is comfortable, but the stabbing pain in his stomach won’t stop. He’d take painkillers, drown himself in them, if he didn’t know this pain was more psychological than anything. It was just his stupid instincts.
He remembers the thing that made it stop earlier today. The executive doesn’t debate it for long before getting up and going to Chuuya’s room.
He spots the messy head of fiery hair on the bed, falling in such a way that it covers his partner’s sleeping face. The blanket is halfway on the floor, and as he gets closer to pick it up, the redhead’s scent gets even stronger, clinging to his body like caramel.
Chuuya’s scent, like everything else about him, was deliciously unique. It varied, almost daily, showcasing wildly different notes depending on the redhead’s mood. Some people would even argue that the ginger didn’t have a specific scent.
Dazai would call those people ignorant.
Hanging around Mori, the older man taught him to identify and know facts about most plants and herbs. It was a tedious process, but the knowledge is useful, even outside of the medical field. He had also been trained by one of the mafia’s experts to be highly perceptive towards smells. So, in case he had to distinguish between scents and track someone down, he could do it, no problem.
After this extensive training, he concluded that his darling partner smelled like orchids and amber.
Orchids are extremely versatile flowers. Their smell can range from scents like vanilla and spice to those of citrus and other sour fruits, or more specifically, lemon sorbet. That is where the redhead’s ever-changing scent came from.
Amber had a warm, sweet, resinous smell, similar to a blend of vanilla, musk, and sandalwood. It kind of reminded him of salted caramel. It not only complements the various tones from the orchid flower but also rightfully represents the owner's warm personality.
(Sometimes there was also a hint of apple blossoms, but the executive could not for the life of him figure out what emotion triggered this, since the occurrences were seemingly random. It was definitely the sweetest one by far.)
He stands for a while, basking in it. Dazai watches the redhead sleep peacefully, head finally empty.
To think people believe Dazai’s miserable experience could compare to this. He couldn’t even compete with the level of humanity in Chuuya’s pinky finger, and people still think theyre the same just because they’re both high-ranking mafiosos. The difference in their scent was just one of many, more obvious, examples of the contrast between them.
He chews over the idea before deciding to take off his eye bandages. It’s not like he’ll be able to sleep much anyway; he’s probably going to nap for an hour or two. He usually wakes up before the other, so he can always just put them back on.
The material is discarded on the floor, and the executive sneaks into bed, using the cover on both of them.
It’s like second nature when he scoots closer, wrapping his arms around the other and planting his head firmly in the crook of the ginger’s neck. He nuzzles into the smell involuntarily, and his hands find a line of exposed skin at his partner’s middle.
It’s from the annoying shirt he was wearing earlier, which is just short enough to show the smallest line of bare skin. It’s somehow more scandalous than just seeing him shirtless. As much as it was driving him insane before, now he’s quite glad for it.
His partner stirs, mumbling something.
“‘zai?” During the muttering, half of his name is lost, the redhead’s voice groggy with sleep. The brunette hums in response, confirming his presence.
Chuuya returns his embrace at his reply, throwing an arm loosely around him. The redhead noses at Dazai’s cheek, the side that was previously covered, and lets out a sigh through his nose. In his dazed state, the ginger doesn’t seem to realise this.
A faint smell of apple blossom fills his nose, getting stuck in his teeth like taffy.
The soft touch against his skin is startling, but not unwelcome. He can feel his own eyes grow heavier with every blink, but he forces himself to stay awake. The executive takes the time to study the redhead’s face, which has a certain peacefulness to it that his partner could only achieve when sleeping.
He imagines the hazel eyes hiding behind those eyelids, laughing at him with happiness, glowing in the sunlight. A sigh leaves his chest. They can only allow themselves these gentle moments under the cover of the dark, so he will never see their tender gaze out in the open. In the day or in the world.
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He wakes up with a comfortable pressure on top of him. There’s a freshering scent around him that makes his instincts let out a small croon. His ability is pleasantly thrumming under the cool barrier on his skin. The redhead further curls up against the weight on him before his mind catches up.
Chuuya blinks his eyes open, finding his partner nestled next to him. Since the blinds are still drawn, his brain has a hard time registering that it’s daytime.
The ginger is staring at the other’s dark chocolate hair, which, this close, seems fluffier than he thought it would be. He cards the hand already stuck in it through it, feeling the texture.
The movement shifts Dazai’s bangs, revealing his face fully. The redhead can feel himself freeze. He has never seen his partner this relaxed and unguarded. He can glimpse another side of pale skin and rosy cheeks, quietly sleeping. His eyes can’t help but drink in it greedily.
There’s nothing wrong with it, nothing worth hiding. The only difference he can spot is the three beauty marks the executive apparently has along the under part and corner of his right eye. It can’t be just that right? He can’t help but lean in closer.
They’re in a perfect line, making them look almost intentional, elegant. He brushes his thumb over them, uncaring that this or his breath falling on the other’s skin might wake Dazai up.
He leans down, not kissing, but resting his lips on the corner of his eye. Chuuya doesn’t know what he hoped to accomplish, but what he did achieve was another trace of the captivating smell he had so longed for.
It was calming and gentle, and he couldn’t help but think Dazai would be perfect for a normal life. On the side of the light, they actually praise quiet scents. Faint enough to be a lovely break from working in a crowded city, but sweet enough to attract a partner.
He would never suggest that the brunette would fit the role of a housewife. But being able to give people ease of mind with just your presence was a gift, in his opinion. It’s kind of a shame he would never get to use it or be properly cherished for it.
As a criminal, it was different. For them, it was preferred to have a strong, dominant, even poisonous scent. At most, having a faint scent could help with being an assassin, but most assassins are betas nowadays anyway.
He could mourn the idea that this scent will never get to be somewhere where people can at least identify it. Nobody, not even himself, can fully appreciate it here.
Chuuya can feel the skin under his lips crinkle as his partner wakes up, scrunching his face at the touch. Looking up, two brown eyes lock onto his, wide awake even if he just woke up. The ginger can feel himself falter under the stare.
“Was Chuuya just staring at me like a creep?”
The redhead raises an unimpressed brow. “You took your bandages off.”
Dazai matches his expression, silently asking, “So what?” Daring him to make a big deal out of this. He seemed out of his element, but his expression is hard to read because of the dark.
“Didn’t know the demon prodigy was this insecure about a beauty mark.” He huffs sarcastically, rubbing the marks again. He won’t ask his partner about the topic again. The ginger feels he would never get the truth about it anyway.
The executive grins, closing his eyes and freeing Chuuya from the captivating sight. The redhead pushes the executive’s bangs up to fully expose his face. And with the rare permission to touch, both of his hands move to hold his partner’s face.
Grabbing him by his jawline and chin, the ginger changes its angle, amused that Dazai was letting him. He isn’t sure what possesses him, but he playfully bites the brunette’s cheek, earning a baffled gasp.
“What’s wrong with the couch?” He questions, basically asking why the other weaseled his way into his bed.
“Does there have to be something wrong with it?” Dazai challenges, getting up in his face and trapping him in his intense gaze again. “I didn’t do anything to it, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Are you just a big softie? Just wanted to cuddle?” Chuuya fires back condescendingly, but he is kind of grateful to hear his furniture is ok.
The executive smiles, closing the little space between their faces, their noses touching. “You really don’t have room to talk. I literally caught Chuuya kissing me awake.”
As his partner talks, the redhead can feel his hot breath on his lips. When he stops, their mouths touch, but it's so faint that Chuuya could’ve been imagining it.
He huffs, “I wasn’t trying to hide it.”
If you asked him who leaned in first, he would not be able to tell you. He tilts his head so their faces can slot together better as their lips move. He grabs at Dazai’s hair, grounding himself, while simultaneously trying to get lost in the sensation.
The combination of the brunette’s ability, smell, and cool skin makes it hard not to lose track of time. The hands on his waist snake up the redhead’s shirt, grabbing at his back. At that moment, he couldn’t tell where he ended, and his partner started, trying to get impossibly closer.
Dazai pulls back to breathe for a moment before kissing him again, but the ginger barely registers it. He doesn’t need to breathe; he could drown in the person and smell surrounding him. A scent he will never get to be familiar with or learn to identify. The only thing he will ever get to have as comfort is an instinctual understanding of the other.
Its all he can ask for, even as much as it bothers him not being able to name it, not being able to fully understand his partner. He will forever miss this one puzzle piece.
Years later, he will finally get the answer. It's years after he stopped asking the question. One of the brunette’s new coworkers will inform him, very matter of factly, that Dazai’s scent is a water lily. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if just stepping into the light granted you this knowledge.
They will be very shocked that he didn’t know this, since he had been Dazai’s partner. He won’t know what to say to defend himself.
Wrong place, wrong time, is all there is to say.