Work Text:
Chuuya’s late.
A pen stops scribbling against paper.
The quiet ticking of a clock would go off every minute, the chirping of crickets late at night as he sat straighter in his desk chair. He stared off at the calendar hung right in front of him, his mind oddly blank at this revelation.
Chuuya was late, and it’s not an often occurrence. The latest he’d been had been an hour, maybe an hour and thirty. He turned to look at the clock on the other side of the room, reading off eight O’ clock. It’s been two hours. He usually came home at six to make them breakfast, and on a weekday, to take him to school.
Standing from his seat, he made his way to the door, an audible click as he turned the knob open. Socked feet padded across the hallway, and he stood in its entrance and surveyed the area.
It was just as Chuuya’d left it, spotless and neat. Everything was in place, nothing was really strewn about. It was normal. But Chuuya wasn’t there. The lack of his presence made it all feel incomplete, really.
He could imagine it now; Chuuya sat on the couch with a book of poetry, and one of those real vintage and expensive wines in a glass, content to sit with merely a lamp’s light to trust.
…He should do some chores. If there were any to do.
Like folding the laundry. He studied for two hours, it can suffice as a break.
He walked into the laundry room, steady on his feet as he took the now room temperature hamper of clothing off the dryer lid. Adjusting it in his grip, he stepped away and proceeded carrying it to his room, letting out a tiny sigh as he did. His back felt a bit strained from sitting in one posture for so long, but he’ll manage.
He’d only just closed the door to his room when he’d heard a clattering noise.
The poor boy had jumped, frightened by the suddenness. He stayed frozen in place, grip tightening against the hamper as more noises descended upon his ears. Throat feeling dry, he lowered the hamper to the ground.
He stayed bent down, heart stuttering in his chest, gut reeling with a feeling. Could it be Chuuya? Maybe it’s one of those hard nights at his job. It’s fairly obvious that being in the Mafia isn’t easy, not in the slightest. Perhaps it was a mission that left him stressed, maybe disoriented? Ah, but, he’d still take care to not mess up the house he left spotless-
“Hup! Here we go…”
That’s not Chuuya’s voice.
His blood ran ice cold, hands curling into dark and knotted hair. It couldn’t be possible, he’d tried to reason. Chuuya had said his apartment was one of the most secure places in Yokohama. Top level security maxed out to its limit. How did someone get in???
A hand found its way to his mouth, trying to muffle his already mouse-quiet breath. He could hear them-male, presumably-muttering to himself, about what? He didn’t know, he couldn’t discern it.
He should hide, he needs to hide, but where? His bedroom is almost bare, no real good hiding spot except under the bed, and even that would be too obvious. The only other place he could hide was the drawers in Chuuya’s room, and-
“Shitty m-mac..rel. Stop…ing…my house…”
Chuuya? Chuuya’s home.
He sat up straight, alert in ways he never thought he could be. Alarm bells were ringing, and Chuuya’s voice sounded weak. What happened? There’s a man, Chuuya’s home, he’s trying to talk to the man-does he know the man personally? What if he doesn’t? Oh, why is this happening?
What if Chuuya’s in danger? What if this person is dangerous-Chuuya sounds weak , like he’s injured.
His brain kickstarted at that.
He turned to face the door slowly, hearing the muffled conversation, his mind running far too fast to understand just what they were talking about. Like his head was underwater, but he was still breathing. Shallow, but he was.
He pulled the door open as quietly as one can muster, almost silent as he traversed the hallway with caution. What if the man finds him? What if he tries to hurt Chuuya once he knows he’s there? So many things could go wrong and-
He pressed thin fingers against the wall of the hall’s frame, peaking back out into the living room.
His heart froze.
Blood, blood, blood. Chuuya was covered in blood and cuts. The hat he really liked isn’t on his head, and his eyes look horrifically drowsy. He was seated tense against his couch, bleeding into a velvety cushion, and he didn’t seem too pleased about it. But where was the man? Was he in the kitchen?
His eyes drifted for a second, but turned back when he noticed Chuuya look up, catching his gaze. The man startled, panic overwhelming his tired-looking face. He signed to Chuuya, asking if he was okay, the worry clear in muddled, black eyes.
Chuuya glanced to the kitchen- so that’s where the man was - and gave a short nod. But that had to be a lie, he certainly didn't look fine. He was bleeding profusely from cuts and other wounds that he couldn't see. And yet, Chuuya said he had been through worse, he had to trust him, right?
He signed again, ‘Who’s there?’, and received a slow, worryingly difficult to make response. It took a few tries for him to get the name down.
‘Dazai Osamu.’
…wait, didn’t he mention the man before?
“Oh Chibi~!” Back out of the room, fast. He walked backwards, falling away from view as feet pattered into the living room. He crouched low with a fetal posture, eyes training onto the man that came into view when he lost sight of Chuuya over the second couch.
Tall, brown hair, brown eyes, coy smile- Chuuya’s talked about this guy before , he remembers. A preppiness hiding deceit, smiley gazes covering up tracks of calculations. A fool, but a genius all the same.
And while Chuuya never said to be afraid, he couldn't exactly help it. He talked this man down to a metaphorical early grave, he at least had the right to feel cautious.
Chuuya however, obviously held no fear, instead letting out a frustrated groan when he watched this Dazai person sit down next to him, disregarding the pints of blood spilt on the soft couch (wow, now that he thought about it, that’ll be a bitch to clean up…)
“God, w-why won’t…you leave..??” He sounded frustrated, and rightfully so, with the man fiddling with what he presumed to be a box, taken from the click of locks and the ruffle of contained items. The sounds themselves were familiar enough for him to name-Dazai brought over the first aid kit.
At least…he cared? Maybe?
“ Becaaause , Chuuya,” The man started, and he heard a sharp hiss that followed after a spritz of what he could notify was antiseptic. “You wouldn’t want me to leave you here all alone with those silly little wounds would you? You’d yell at me anyways if I didn’t at least help clean you up!” His tone sounded huffy, in a way he couldn’t really identify the emotions behind it. Of course, because he’s a mask-wearing genius, as Chuuya had implied through cuss-littered rants.
But it’s not like Chuuya is actually alone, not that Dazai knows. The dreaded yet that played in the back of his mind forced a weak cringe out of him.
“Ugh, I f-fucking ha-te you.” Chuuya’s voice seemed to clear a bit, he wasn’t straining as much to use it. He always was quick to heal, after all. “Oh come on! It’s at least a good thing you had to use corruption twenty seconds less than usual! Not even gonna be proud of that?”
“N-not if I still hurt like a bitch aff-fterwards, dumbass.” He sat on the ground hesitantly, scooting towards the couch facing the duo, and sitting against the back of it. Risky move really, but the Dazai person didn’t seem too ready to leave where he sat yet, and his hearing was good enough to save him at the last minute. (Let’s just hope he doesn’t regret it. No one is supposed to know about him anyways, not for a long time.)
The silence that dragged on afterwards was almost nerve-wrecking, and he had the feeling that perhaps neither knew what else to say, but his mind was screaming at him, paranoia gripping him like a flesh-prison, his hands tightened around his arms, digging into his sleeves.
“Oi, where do you think you’re going?” Shit, he miscalculated. Alarm bells went off, and he shuffled back to the hallway’s corridor a bit too quick, yet not quick enough for his own panic.
“Hmm, just thought I heard something, is all.” Thank god the hallway was super dark and he liked dark clothing, it helped him blend in at least a little bit. But his mind still plagued him with intrusive thoughts.
He was going to get caught, Dazai was going to find him and something was gonna happen and he didn’t know what and that’s scaring him-
Hand over his mouth, crouched fetally with his back to the hallway, a terrible idea.
Terrible, terrible, terrible idea.
His heart could have gone into cardiac arrest when he was grabbed by the scruff of his hood.
“Mind explaining who this is, Hatrack?” He could barely hear Chuuya audibly cuss under his breath, with his mind going off like a trainwreck of fright. He froze on the spot and couldn’t even struggle, looking like a frightened cat as Dazai’s face came into view.
He had a smile, such a strained smile and blank eyes that he almost couldn’t look away. He gaped, his own eye wide with terror and-
“You put him down. Now. ”
Dazai looked back as did he, and he watched with mixed worry and horror as Chuuya stood on slightly trembling legs, a dirty glare of anger searing in his eyes. Dazai cocked his head to the side, closed-mouth smile stretching wider as he hummed.
“But Chuuya~! I’m curious! He seems far too young for you, y’know.” He didn’t understand the implication, but Chuuya sure did; face screwing up in disgust at whatever idea Dazai had planted in his messed up skull.
“ No! That’s fucking sick-just, gimme the kid.” He shot back, and Dazai stood up straighter, jostling him in the process and making him shrink into his hoodie, heart pounding in his chest.
The glare and the smile met neck-in-neck in a silent war, and he couldn’t decipher a single bit of it. He felt alien in the situation, watching how, with just a few twitches of the head or raise of a brow, they seemed to have an entire conversation to themselves, nothing anyone can understand.
“...Uuuugh! Fine,” He almost yelped as he was pushed towards Chuuya, whipping his head back at the brunette for a moment before shuffling a bit too quickly over to Chuuya, and the other seemed to relax at least a little bit.
“But that’s really mean chibi! You can’t just adopt another dog! You never even asked for your master’s consent.” Ah , there were the dog comments Chuuya told him about. “Okay, one; I ain’t your fucking dog. Two; so what if I adopted the kid? Aren’t you all for the ‘saving orphans’ gig now?” how did they communicate that with looks alone? Weren’t they exes?
That seemed to make Dazai pause for a few moments, eyes flickering between Chuuya and him. His smile seemed to…soften? A bit? “...Oh, you were serious?” Chuuya deadpanned at Dazai, tucking him behind his back cautiously. “Uhuh…what of it?”
“No, just never thought you of all people would adopt, petite mafioso. ”
Chuuya scoffed, and he maneuvered away for the man to collapse back into the couch. “Huh, lucky me then, bastard. You aren’t even smart enough to predict the obvious.” Dazai pouted at that, but Chuuya turned to him before the brunette could say anything.
“Oi, go get the tub running, would you?” he perked for a moment, before giving a nod and quiet murmur, scampering off with muted footsteps. He didn’t want to interfere with whatever those two had going on, and if anything, he’d like to refrain from getting jumpscared , if he could help it.
Their voices were loud, yet indiscernible from the bathroom, so he followed through with his task, filling the water a generous amount above half, a temperature bordering warm and hot, with at least two of his guardian’s favorite scented candles in a safe place, hoping it would help him relax a little bit, especially with what was happening.
And from the audible thud that followed, Mael fetched the wine in the mini-fridge.
…
Chuuya couldn’t believe this.
Not only did that bastard have to take him home despite all of his complaints, which was to be expected, he definitely did not expect for him to find out about Mael. Not like this, not at all. Any other way, he could have tolerated at least a little.
Certainly not when he was bleeding in and externally, barely conscious on his couch, and soaking the fucking cushions. It was truly the worst.
He didn’t even want Mael to see him like that, body grappling from the release of Arahabaki’s claws from inside, pushed down by the ability of some mackerel and his shitty, grubby hands. Fuck, things could have been so different.
However, he couldn’t dwell on what already happened, there was no fixing it, no reversing it. The best thing to do was get it over with. He’ll take a bath and get cleaned, maybe attempt again to shoo that fish out of his house, and get some fucking shut eye.
“Aaaw, I can’t come in? Chibiiiii !”
But of course, Dazai wants to make his temporary stay as annoying as possible.
Chuuya groaned for the umpteenth time as he stumbled into the bathroom, almost letting out a sigh of content at the sweet smell of his scented candles. He looked at the bath which was filled to his preference, along with the bottle of his favorite wine, placed within reach.
God he loved that kid.
“Well isn’t he a little butler, eh?” Chuuya shot Dazai a glare, before slamming the door in the taller’s face, who whined exponentially over the fact. As if Chuuya hadn’t done that to him so many times before. The man could burn in hell for all he cared.
Chuuya was quick to strip down and sink into a sigh-inducing bath. Letting his muscles fall lax, he was at least thankful that the Mackerel had the mind to clean off the blood on his skin so he wouldn’t worry about blood in the bath. He felt so wonderfully pliant in the bath, allowing him to also notice one of his glass cups sat at the other end of it, a smile tugging at his lips.
He tapped a foot lightly against the glass, picking up his bottle as well and using gravity to do all the rest. God knows he needed this after such a stressful day. Lights dim, red wine, a warm bath and scented candles. Truly, what would he do without that kid?
Although, there is still Dazai to take care of…
As much as he’d like to though, he’s far too comfortable here, sipping a fine ass wine and relishing in the lovingly made bath. He’d have to take the little Mouse out for some boba tomorrow, no doubt.
And if Dazai thought of harming his kid?
Well, that was nothing an early penectomy couldn’t handle.
So Chuuya soaked there for a very nice thirty minutes of silence, absentmindedly combing through his hair using gravity controlled hair products, letting his mind feel pleasantly dull by the wine, as the only thoughts going through his head were tomorrow’s plans for some good boba with his kid.
And after the water began to cool down, he reluctantly found his way out, toweling off and putting on a set of fresh clothes, also courtesy of his little Mouse, that lovely kid. Chuuya let out a sigh when he realized he’d have to deal with whatever the hell Dazai must have gotten up to outside.
Seriously, that guy was like a kid given no entertainment. No entertainment means mischief, and mischief means mayhem for everyone he drags into it.
When he did walk outside however, it was a bit more mundane than that.
Mael was in the living room, probably trying to get some homework he put off done, but that wasn’t going to go well with the fact that Dazai was in his presence, because of course Dazai’s curious about the kid, why wouldn’t he be there? At least he didn’t seem as scared as before, knowing Dazai wasn’t too much of a threat anymore.
He seemed to be trying real hard to ignore the manchild asking him all those questions, getting up in his personal space, and Chuuya was genuinely proud of him for that progress. Although he did try pushing him away with a foot, Dazai just grabbed that foot and grinned at him, opening his mouth to blurt another question.
And then he got kicked in the jaw-
Chuuya choked on laughter at the wail that escaped his ex-partner, hand on his now sore jaw as Mael turned away haughtily, going back to his homework diligently.
“Aw, now I wish I could have recorded that.” he finally made his presence known to them, Dazai turning to him in faux offense as Mael simply waved up at him. Chuuya came over, placing a hand on his kid’s head and leaning over to see the homework he was on.
“A part of a science project I need to do,” Mael muttered, turning it up to show him. “When’s it due?” Chuuya asked, ignoring the ‘he said something?’ from Dazai. “Next week.” was the response.
“Are your group members at least pitching in?” “I have them all by the balls, it’s fine.” Chuuya snorted and struggled not to laugh, pressing his face into Mael’s shoulder. “Jesus, kid, what did you do?”
“If they don’t finish it, I’m throwing out the unfinished product in the middle of the presentation.” knowing Mael, he so totally would, with zero regard for the hard work he himself put in. That’s his damn kid alright.
“Yup, sounds about right.” He muttered, standing properly as Mael looked back at him. “I’ll be right back in a second in case you need me to help you, okay?” Mael nodded, and turned back to his work.
“Now, as for you. ” He immediately whipped an accusatory gaze to Dazai, who froze in the midst of making his escape. “Don’t think you can just break into my house, patch me for shit, ” the ginger stomps over, grabbing Dazai by the collar and starts tugging him to the kitchen, despite the many wailing protests.
“Interrogate my kid , and expect to get out of this with nothing?” He pushed him over to the sink, plucking a pair of gloves from the counter and shoving them into the mackerel’s chest. “Now clean, Mackerel.”
“Eh!? How could you Chibi!” Dazai whined, reluctantly snapping on the gloves, before ultimately crossing his arms and not cleaning. Oh but that wasn’t gonna fly with Chuuya. “I call abuse! Putting me to work without my consent! I-”
“Oh no, no, no, don’t start shit with me right now, Dazai!” Chuuya growled, smacking the taller man upside the head with a glare. “You don’t clean those dishes? No crab. Two months.” Dazai let out a strangled gasp, whining incessantly as Chuuya stepped away from him.
He let out a victorious huff to himself at the sound of water running, dishes clanging.
He found himself sitting next to Mael in the living room again, who seemed quite eager to get his side of the project done. Of course, at first glance it’ll seem so utterly productive and social of him, texting his group members, taking pictures of the work in progress.
Really though? He just wants his side done as soon as possible to avoid said group members. He never was one for social interaction, an A grade introvert in a class of extroverts, as Chuuya’d describe it.
Chuuya took to simply picking up one of his poetry books, waiting nearby in case Mael got stuck on something. He did want to take this chance of peace, with no chores to immediately get to. He’d be able to make a simple dinner in the next hour or so, too, which he wouldn’t mind.
“Hey, Chuuya?” the mafioso hummed in acknowledgement to Mael. “When will that guy leave?” he couldn’t help the deadpanned sigh that escaped him. “Whenever he wants, Mael. This is my ex-partner we’re talking about. He does what he wants.”
“You’re not just gonna kick him out?” asked the french boy.
“He’d replace my wine with vinegar if I did that.”
“Oh…the poor wines.” Chuuya snorted at him.
“You only say that ‘cause you bribe me with it.” Mael nodded humbly at that, turning back to his project. From what Chuuya could see, he had most of the writing portion of it, which was respectable. The ones who create the structure are commendable, but so can the one who makes all the magic in the words.
Like poetry. A good poem is a great poem.
Chuuya diligently got back to his poetry at that.
…
So, Dazai stayed for dinner.
Still is trying to fuck with Mael. The bastard.
Mael’s been taking…well enough to his presence in the house. Although he doesn’t seem to be happy with his peace and quiet being disrupted, constantly kicking Dazai in the chest or stomach before he’d retreat somewhere further into the house. He even bribed Chuuya with a whole bottle of wine to get the man out of his house.
Which normally, he would have loved to accept and get wasted just to be incomprehensible in the presence of fish, but that would mean leaving Mael to deal with a sober Dazai and a drunk him, and that just sounded like too much of a pain.
Mael practically treats Dazai like the snake who tempted Eve into eating the forbidden fruit, constantly growling and kicking in response to Dazai’s curiosity, trying to keep him as far away from himself as possible.
So yeah, not getting on too well.
At least it’s a little funny to watch.
“Awww, Mael-kuuun~! Aren’t you curious about my lustrous presence?” Dazai sang, backing the poor kid into a corner. Mael, gripping his finished science project under one arm, signed swiftly to him.
‘I’d rather know the insides of a rabid hippo than to know anything about you.’ Dazai grasped his chest in faux offense as Mael slinked away, racing to hide behind the safety of Chuuya’s back to glare at a much more comfortable distance for him.
“I hate him, Chuuya.” Mael whined quietly, and Chuuya could only sigh and pat his head. “Chibi!” a tic of annoyance marked his face. “How could you pay more attention to him than me!? You haven’t even known him for seven years!”
“Well if you haven’t noticed, dumbass, he’s my son- of course I pay him more attention than your stupid fishy ass!” Chuuya isn’t too sure what Mael signed from his place behind him, but a flash of true offense crossed Dazai’s face, though he made sure to hide it well.
“Chibi, that boy is evil. ” Dazai grumbled.
“Well you’re the literal Devil. We’re even.” Mael replied, even though he probably wasn’t heard.
“This is why I hate kids, y’know Hatrack?”
“You literally adopted an orphan into that Agency of yours, Vagabond.”
“Atsushi-kun is different! He is a ray of sunshine- that’s pure evil incarnate in the form of a child!”
“And you’re a man-baby, fuck off.” Chuuya actually guffawed at that.
“What!? What did he say now???”
“Get the fuck out of my house, ya man-baby!! ” Dazai cried out, hands flapping as he sputtered. Ultimately, he frowned and pouted and whined- out of the house?
The door closed with a resolute bang.
Yup, he just left the penthouse.
How????
“Oh my God, he never does that.” Chuuya hummed, more astonished than he thought he’d ever feel. “He doesn’t?” Mael asked. “Nah, he usually stays the night.”
“Hmm…” Chuuya placed a hand over Mael’s head, who took to placing his chin against his shoulder, comfortably caging the brunette’s head. “Good riddance, then.”
“You know he’ll come back, right Mael?”
“...”
“I literally can’t get rid of that man, no matter how much I try.”
“...He better get utterly fucked by an Ostrich before then-”
“Oh my God??? Language, you vile piece of shit.”
“Heh.”
…
Chuuya sighed as he closed his door.
Mael’s in bed, probably reviewing work one more time before bed, the dishes have been rewashed after a good, light dinner, and Chuuya’s already pressed and ironed his uniforms for this week. A job well done, he’d say.
“Chibi…”
Ugh.
Chuuya turned away from the voice of annoyance, making his way to the bathroom to at least get his nightly routine done. He knew the Mackerel didn’t leave, of course that would be too easy. Dazai was never an easy man to deal with. Perhaps it’s why he still puts up with him, he’s so used to the difficulty that Dazai himself can’t seem to bide his time in any better way than to annoy him.
“The kid…he’s interesting.”
Chuuya let out a soft sigh, washing up his face with skin care products he remembered but couldn’t for the life of him feel like reading the names of. He didn’t pay much attention to the arms that slinked around him.
“Mael’s his name, ne? What’s it mean, hmm Chibi?”
Washing his face one last time, Chuuya pushed back his bangs a bit and looked into the mirror, staring back at the genuine curiosity of the mackerel that’s decided to cling to him. Always so curious about what goes on in Chuuya’s life, the bastard.
“...’Chief’, or ‘Prince’.” Dazai hummed at that, resting his cheek against the top of Chuuya’s head, even as the other shuffled his way back into the bedroom. “He doesn’t seem like the type to lead, though.”
“You’d be surprised by how dynamic the little mouse can be.” Chuuya granted him another answer, not even protesting when he was practically yanked into bed by a gangly mess of octopus-limbs.
“Yeah, I can believe that.” The other grumbled, seemingly reminded of what transpired hours before. “He just starts out like that towards the people around him, Dazai. Let him be.” The silence that followed as Chuuya’s head pressed against the pillow was mindful, and the ginger waited for Dazai to say something more.
“You’re healthier with him around, Chuuya…” Chuuya hummed, thinking briefly for a moment about that statement, as he wasn’t entirely wrong. He was going to sleep at reasonable times, he was eating all three meals a day, the amount of overtime he’d take had been reduced drastically too. All to take care of one child. It was oddly healthy for him, but…he didn’t mind.
“You of all people seem to know how that feels, Dazai.” He mumbled absentmindedly, sleep tugging at his conscience. There was a tiny tinge of breath against his neck.
“...He’s good for you. You’re doing great, caring for him.”
Silence followed, and Chuuya felt speechless in the face of honesty and exhaustion, mixed in a mangled, yet strangely calming atmosphere.
Because maybe he needed to hear that. That he wasn’t fucking up the life of a child any more than it already was. That all the time he spent getting to know Maël, to know how to treat him well, like any good parent should, had paid off. That he was doing a good job.
He went to sleep feeling content that night.