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The night was cold. Per usual for Yokohama in the winter. Even the chill forced Ango out of the office and into Lupin. Dazai sat in the middle, complaining about the cold. Oda sat on his right, and Ango to his left.
“It’s only Autumn! It should not be this freezing! Why is it so cold?” Dazai (A mere child, which Ango had to remind himself at moments) cried.
“Because we sit on the sea.” Ango spoke up, deciding to warm his cheeks by ordering a single shot. Nothing to get him drunk or even buzzed. “The chill of the Pacific Ocean’s water lowers the temperature of the air at night. It rises from the sea and such. Which is why we suffer from so much fog at night.-” Ango said, but was cut off by Dazai.
“Boo! You’re such a nerd, Ango!” Dazai teases, and Ango stops himself from strangling the sixteen year old. Dazai turns to Odasaku. “Right Odasaku? Isn’t Ango being such a geek right now?” Dazai commonly seeked out Oda’s validation, to hear him agree. It was only natural, Dazai was a cold, lonely child and Oda served as a man who gave him a metaphorical jacket. A home to feel warm and safe at.
Oda looks up from his glass, a hum as his response at first.
“Well. I think it just proves Ango is quite smart. I think it makes him admirable.” Oda said, resting his cheek in his hand. Ango looks away in response, miserably trying to hide his burning face. Dazai’s once cheeky grin contorts into a disgusted frown.
“Ew! Ew!” The eccentric brunette freaks “Do that in private! What are you going to do now? Eat each others’ faces?” Dazai has jumped back a few paces by now.
Ango surprises both of them by laughing. “Oda, is he too old to put him down yet?” Ango recovers from his previously flustered state to now something light hearted.
Dazai gasped at Ango’s cruel question. “What!?” He holds his chest dramatically. “I’m like your child! Ango, my dearest mother, wanting to put me down..” He sinks to his knees.
Ango’s eye brows form a bewildered look. “M-Mother? I can’t be your mom- I’m not a woman!” He barks.
“I think Ango would make a wonderful mother.” Oda jokes, with a monotone voice.
“Oda!” Ango whines, angry at the two for incessant teasing.
Dazai latches himself onto Ango, with a smug grin. “Mom! I’m hungry-” Dazai goes on to squabble while attaching himself to Ango’s side.
“Oh my god.” Ango is physically stopping himself from wringing the teenager by the neck.
—
Ango is in the Port mafia’s washroom for the higher ups. He makes sure his hair looks presentable since he’s about to report to Mori. He hopes he does well, he needs to keep up appearances, for his mission’s sake.
“You look awful. When was the last time you slept?” Dazai scares Ango.
“Oh my god! I didn’t see you.” Ango catches his breath. “Do I look that awful?” He asks.
Dazai bites his lip and looks up at Ango. There’s a rare look of sympathy for Ango.
“I don’t think he’ll care as long as the results are up to his standards.” Dazai replies with.
Ango rolls his eyes. “Thanks for the confidence.” Ango says harshly, fixing his tie. He looks in the mirror, resisting a miserable whine. It doesn’t take Dazai’s genius to know that Ango is anxious out of his mind at the moment.
“You’ve done a lot of overtime, I’m sure it hasn’t been put to waste.” Dazai says more seriously. Dazai was never good at comforting but he hopes the sincerity of his words helps.
Ango’s face softens and there’s a small smile to his lips. He chuckles as he ruffles Dazai’s hair.
“Thanks Dazai. Meet me after work.” He says.
Dazai looks confused and looks up at Ango. “Why?” He asks.
Ango is walking away but before he exits the room, he turns his head. “That ruins the surprise, doesn’t it?”
Ango leaves the room and Dazai fixes his hair. He was quite fond of Oda but with Ango? They were friends, enjoyed each other's company but not much more. Lately however, there’s this fondness, similar to how he saw Odasaku. He could lean on Ango’s shoulder without the fear of the safety being grasped away from him.
—
Ango stands against a counter, humming into a wine glass. A giggle emerges from his lips as a redhead kisses his jaw. Oda wraps his arms around Ango’s waist.
“God,” Ango releases a shallow breath. “You’re so touchy, no one would’ve guessed-” He’s about to lean in for a kiss when his doorbell rings.
“Were you expecting someone?” Oda asks, ceasing his kisses.
“No- No I wasn’t” Ango replies with, putting his wine glass down.
“Wrong address then.” Oda says then resumes gently kissing Ango’s jaw, lowering to mid neck.
“But-” Ango tries to protest, then they both hear impatient knocking, aggressive knocking.
“I’m going to see who that is-” Ango tears himself from Oda.
He opens his door and to his shock, Dazai stands, holding his stomach. He’s injured and his breathing is labored.
“Odasaku wasn’t.. answering his phone.” Dazai says, falling slightly into Ango’s arm.
Oda jumps from his spot to see his fainted friend.
“Is he okay?” He asks. Ango gives him a worried look.
“I think he will be, help me get him onto my couch.” Ango grimaces. His white couch.
Oda and Ango move Dazai to his couch, laying him down with ease. Ango felt like he did nothing compared to Oda’s muscle.
Ango returns to the room with a first aid kit. Dazai is in and out of consciousness.
“He was distracted during a mission. Just made a mistake.” Oda explained to Ango. Dazai whimpers in pain, but has already taken off his shirt, for someone to clean.
“That’s fine.” Ango says, falling to his knees.
Dazai opens his eyes. Ango frowns, caressing his cheek.
“Sorry for.. this. It hurts. Like a bitch.” Dazai groans, hissing in pain.
“It’s okay. It’ll be fine,” Ango whispers.
“Don’t. I feel like a child.” Dazai frowns angrily.
“You are a child, Osamu.” Ango replies. “This will burn but spare me.”
Ango takes a rag soaked in hydrogen peroxide and presses it against Dazai’s wound.
“Ow!” Dazai yowls. Ango holds Dazai’s hand, for him to squeeze and let the pain escape him.
“Sorry.” Ango apologizes.
Finally, Ango cleans the wound and starts to bandage the wound.
“Thank you, Ango.” Dazai says weakly.
Ango smiles gently, and ruffles Dazai’s hair.
“Anytime, Dazai. I promise.” Ango says.
Dazai lets out a little smile. “You won’t make me pay for a new couch will you, mom?”
“Call me mom again and I will fine you.” Ango threatens with an irritated expression.
“How about we watch a movie?” Oda says, usually the mediator between the two ramming personalities.
They sit all together, Ango’s arm around Dazai comfortingly. Oda was behind the couch, in the kitchen, listening for when the popcorn was done.
“Thank you.” Dazai whispers, just for Ango to hear. For what Oda thought was silence, was a shared memory between Osamu Dazai and Sakaguchi Ango.
“Of course. You can come to me anytime.” He replies with an even quieter sound.
Ango knows one day Dazai will no longer feel safe in his arms, that he will be painted and perceived as a backstabber but there is this fragile hope in his heart that they will be close forever.