1. The Missions Are Getting Suspicious

Atsushi honestly thought they were being subtle.

Sure, he and Akutagawa had a habit of getting paired for missions lately. Sure, they tended to disappear for ten minutes after battles to “catch their breaths.” Sure, sometimes Atsushi came back with his lips a little swollen or his collar looking like someone had tugged at it too much.

But they held themselves together. They were professionals.

…mostly.

And then Dazai happened.

He always happened.

Dazai cornered Atsushi in the break room with the most catastrophically smug smile on his face. He leaned against the counter as if he’d been born reclining on furniture.

“You’re glowing,” he sang.

“I— excuse me?”

“Glowing. Shimmering. Positively radiant. It’s either love or an iron deficiency. Hmm. Actually—” his eyes widened in fake realisation— “it’s the same in your case!”

Atsushi gripped the nearest mug like a lifeline. “I’m not in love.”

“You say that like you think I’ll believe you.”

Before Atsushi could retort, Akutagawa stormed into the room, cloak billowing dramatically. He always looked like he was entering a boss-fight cutscene.

Dazai practically squealed. “Ohhh! Speak of the devil—”

“You summoned me?” Akutagawa sneered.

“No! No, absolutely not—” Atsushi tried.

Dazai clasped his hands. “You two would work so well together—”

“You’re just trying to set us up again,” Atsushi hissed.

“But think about it—”

“I’d rather go through the painstaking process of cutting off all my toes individually with a butter knife and eat them one by one,” Akutagawa cut in, “than be involved with the weretiger in any sort of romantic way.”

Atsushi’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

He had kissed that mouth fifteen hours ago.

Dazai gasped dramatically. “So much hostility! So much unresolved tension! So much—”

Atsushi dropped his mug.

Akutagawa turned sharply toward him.

Dazai grinned.

They were so screwed.

But the mission siren sounded, and the trio had to sprint out, crisis averted—

At least until Akutagawa cornered Atsushi on a rooftop later, breath harsh and eyes burning.

“You didn’t correct him,” he snapped.

“Well I didn’t see you rushing to—!”

The argument ended in a kiss that left Atsushi’s knees weak and Akutagawa’s cloak sliding off the ledge.

Luckily no one saw.

…they thought.

2. The “We’re Totally Not On a Date” Date

Atsushi should have known better than to let Akutagawa choose a meeting location.

He arrived at a quiet café in a corner of Yokohama—too cosy, too intimate—only for Akutagawa to appear two minutes later wearing a black turtleneck and a scowl that could kill small animals.

“This is not a date,” Akutagawa said immediately, sitting down.

“Of course not,” Atsushi said quickly, even though his heart was pounding and Akutagawa had never looked more devastatingly attractive.

They ordered tea.

They sat in awkward silence.

They made eye contact and immediately looked away.

They almost held hands twice.

It was tragic.

Then—of course—Kunikida walked in.

Atsushi paled.

Akutagawa’s soul visibly departed his body.

Kunikida stopped. Stared. Blinked. And then slowly raised an eyebrow.

“…is this a negotiation meeting between the ADA and the Mafia?”

Atsushi: “YES!”

Akutagawa: “ABSOLUTELY.”

Kunikida stood there for a long moment, suspicious, eyes narrowing like lasers.

“Well… carry on,” he finally said.

The moment he left, the boys exhaled simultaneously.

“Never again,” Akutagawa muttered.

“Never,” Atsushi agreed—

—and then Akutagawa slid his hand across the table to brush Atsushi’s fingers.

Just for a second.

Just long enough to break his own rules.

3. The Injury Incident

Hiding a relationship is easiest when you’re not bleeding all over your boyfriend.

Unfortunately, Akutagawa was currently bleeding all over his boyfriend.

During a mission gone wrong, Rashōmon had taken the brunt of an explosion, shielding Atsushi without hesitation. When the dust cleared, Akutagawa collapsed.

Atsushi caught him.

“A-Akutagawa! Hey—stay awake—!”

“Do not…” Akutagawa whispered, “make a spectacle.”

“You’re literally dying in my arms! This is already a spectacle!”

At that moment, Ranpo appeared.

Atsushi froze.

Akutagawa froze.

Ranpo’s glasses gleamed. “Hmmmmm.”

Atsushi wanted to fling himself into the sun.

Ranpo smiled knowingly. “You two are acting strangely.”

“We’re not—!” Atsushi squeaked.

Akutagawa coughed blood onto Atsushi’s shirt.

Ranpo just adjusted his hat. “I don’t care what weird multi-agency romance drama you’re hiding. But if he dies in your arms you’ll never emotionally recover.”

Atsushi went silent. Too silent.

Ranpo blinked. “…oh. So that’s what this is.”

Before Atsushi could respond, Ranpo simply turned and started shouting for an ambulance.

He didn’t say a word afterward.

But when Akutagawa woke in the hospital later, Atsushi was holding his hand.

Only because he was asleep.

Obviously.

Akutagawa didn’t pull away.

Obviously.

4. The Sleepover From Hell

It started with a storm.

A violent one.

Atsushi hated storms. Akutagawa knew this.

So when thunder shook the city that night, Akutagawa didn’t even question it—he went straight to Atsushi’s apartment, climbed four flights of stairs, and knocked.

He expected Atsushi.

He did not expect Yosano opening the door with a mug of cocoa.

“Well, well,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

Akutagawa froze.

Atsushi appeared behind her, panicked. “HI! HI! He’s here for— um— a medical reason! Yes! A rash!”

Yosano looked between the two of them.

Then at Akutagawa.

Then at his perfectly un-rashy face.

“…I see.”

She stepped aside.

“I’ll leave you to your…medical examination.”

Atsushi wanted to die on the spot.

But Akutagawa entered quietly and sat on the bed, glaring at the storm through the window.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured.

“It’s… loud,” Atsushi whispered.

A beat of silence.

Then the bed dipped slightly.

Akutagawa leaned against him.

“Sleep.”

Atsushi blinked. “Are you— comforting me?”

“No. I’m preventing you from panicking. It benefits both of us.”

“Thanks, Ryuu,” Atsushi murmured.

Akutagawa flushed, secretly pleased by the nickname—by the fact that Atsushi had a name meant only for him.

And Atsushi could feel everything: the quiet warmth of Akutagawa’s shoulder against his, the steady presence grounding him, the faint, tentative brush of fingers seeking his beneath the blanket—

They fell asleep like that.

The next morning, Kyouka found them.

She stared.

They bolted apart so fast they fell off opposite sides of the bed.

She left without saying a word.

She didn’t need to.

5. The Almost-Confession

A charity event shouldn’t have been a minefield.

But here they were.

Akutagawa in a sleek black suit. Atsushi in white. Dazai circling like a vulture.

“Smile for the camera!” he chirped.

“We’re not—!” Atsushi began.

But Akutagawa’s hand brushed his lower back—for stability, because the crowd was pushing.

Totally not because he wanted to.

Cameras flashed.

People whispered.

Rumors surfaced online within minutes.

Atsushi panicked.

Akutagawa panicked harder.

They ran to the balcony, hearts racing, breaths cold in the night air.

“We can’t keep doing this,” Atsushi whispered. “People are going to find out.”

Akutagawa clenched his jaw. “I know.”

“Do you— want them to know?”

Akutagawa hesitated.

His fingers twitched.

He opened his mouth.

He was right there, about to say something real, something honest—

And Dazai slid the balcony door open so hard it slammed.

“WHAT ARE YOU TWO MAKING OUT ON THE BALCONY FOR? THE EVENT IS STILL GOING—”

Atsushi nearly ripped off one of the railings in mortification.

Akutagawa tried to fling himself off the balcony.

Dazai shrieked and pulled him back inside.

The moment was lost.

For now.

+1 — The One Time They Finally Come Clean

It happened on a Tuesday.

Not a dramatic Tuesday.

Not a stormy Tuesday.

A perfectly normal, painfully uneventful Tuesday in which both the ADA and Port Mafia were forced into a joint strategy meeting.

Everyone was tired.

Everyone was cranky.

And then Dazai, always an agent of chaos, said:

“You know, at this point I’m starting to think Atsushi and Akutagawa are secretly dating.”

Atsushi inhaled wrong and choked.

Akutagawa turned an alarming shade of red.

Kunikida dropped his pen.

Hirotsu’s eyebrow twitched.

Chuuya looked up slowly like a lion scenting prey.

Every head turned.

Atsushi felt his heart pounding. Akutagawa’s fingers twitched near Rashōmon, like he was deciding whether murder was an option.

Atsushi swallowed.

“Fine,” he said suddenly, loudly, before he could lose his nerve. “Yes. We’re dating.”

Silence.

Absolute, pure, suffocating silence.

Akutagawa froze.

Then, after a beat, he stepped closer—almost imperceptibly—and said,

“…Yes. We are.”

Dazai blinked.

Then he screamed,

“FINALLY!”

Chuuya groaned. “Fuck, I owe Higuchi money.”

Kunikida began flipping through his notebook muttering, “This ruins three entire organisational charts—”

Higuchi cried tears of joy.

Gin smirked knowingly, having heard the faint creak of the bed from earlier and pieced it together perfectly. She held up a “called it” sign, clearly proud of her deduction.

Yosano clapped politely.

Kenji asked, “What’s dating?”

And Ranpo, of course, leaned back and said, “I knew six months ago.”

Atsushi looked at Akutagawa.

Akutagawa looked at him.

For once, they didn’t hide.

Atsushi reached for his hand under the table.

Akutagawa let him.

And Dazai immediately screeched, “OH MY GOD THEY’RE HOLDING HANDS IN PUBLIC—”

But Atsushi just squeezed Akutagawa’s fingers tighter.

This time, they didn’t let go.