enough to get by
.
Dazai is not used to awakening to warmth.
Not yet.
He is almost always cold when he sleeps, so he usually finds himself curled up on his side when morning comes, the arm trapped between his body and the mattress tingling with numbness until he turns around so as to let blood flow into it again. Sunlight pierces through his eyelids and tears irritated grunts off his throat, but never once frightens the cold away.
(Lately he often hears a loud, exasperated voice first, followed by a hand lightly shaking his shoulder and a gentle get up or we'll be late whispered just before a kiss lands on the tip of his freezing noise, making him giggle even before he's completely awake yet.)
This morning, though, Dazai opens his eyes to a blur of blond hair that tickles his nose, an arm that doesn't belong to him laying across his waist and an ankle hooked with his.
He frowns, closes his eyes again, buries his face in the hair's owner's shoulder. He finds his right hand clinging to the old t-shirt his bed mate uses to sleep, curls his fingers tighter around the fistful of fabric. His left arm is somewhere, Dazai supposes, crushed under his weight, but he doesn't particularly mind.
Not yet.
Somewhere outside the building there are already cars on the street, people going to work, children going to school, but it feels like an entirely different world. Dazai basks in the warmth surrounding him, smiles at the shudder running down his spine when he smells Kunikida's hair, for once not tied up in a ponytail. Apples and something floral, something that should be stimulating yet only lessens Dazai's already insignificant will to move.
This fits. Where or how, Dazai has no idea, but he knows with frightening certainty this moment, the silent minutes enjoying Kunikida's unaware presence as the world keeps moving far away, is right what it should be.
It's not a feeling he is used to. Not regarding anything unplanned, anyway… which is an exception itself because one way or another Dazai anticipates everything.
Therefore he likes everything about this. Even Kunikida's atrocious snoring.
But his arm is still so numb Dazai suspects he wouldn't feel anything were anyone to chop it off; his fingers twitch, partly by themselves, partly because their owner has the ridiculous need to make sure he can still count on them, and hell breaks loose up to his shoulder.
Not wanting to rouse Kunikida, he untangles his fingers from his partner's t-shirt and sits up, irritated with himself as he slowly flexes his arm and regains control over it. He should find a less troublesome sleeping position.
Dazai directs his gaze at Kunikida's arm, which has slid down and now rests on his lap. His partner is still blissfully oblivious to everything outside whatever he's dreaming about and Dazai's first instinct is not, contrary to what he would usually do, waking him up in the loudest way possible, but checking the hour. The sun is already out and, if Dazai's suspicions are correct, they are late to work.
A glance to the alarm clock is enough to prove him right.
But Dazai doesn't wake Kunikida.
Not yet.
Instead he stares at his partner, lets his gaze wander down his closed eyes, the unusually smooth space between his eyebrows, his mouth barely open forming a little o. Blond locks fall over his shoulder, tempting Dazai's still numb fingers until they give in and thread through that long hair.
Kunikida looks so young when he sleeps, when he has no schedules to stick to or problems to worry about. Calm, completely indifferent to the world he tries so hard to make a better place. Like a child having a particularly good dream.
Dazai isn't ignorant of the fact that most of Kunikida's frowns are his fault. He knows that, at this rate, his partner will get an ulcer soon– he is aware he is the bad influence in that relationship. And he also knows that he can't change who he is, no matter how badly he wants to be a remedy for the angry wrinkles between those thin eyebrows; regardless of how much his heart swells up at the thought of Kunikida, an irrational craving for that mere existence is not enough to stop him from dancing with Death, to quench a thirst for self-destruction Odasaku asked him to ignore as he bled out on a dusty floor after doing the exact opposite thing.
But when has anything, anyone, ever been enough for him?
Kunikida knows it. Dazai has never told him a word about the matter, but somehow his partner knows. Maybe not everything, maybe not accurately; but he is quite observant and he understands enough not to ask for the impossible.
So instead, they make promises.
You better take me to that restaurant someday.
Tomorrow you make dinner. Preferably not drunk.
Don't even think about leaving until you finish that mountain of accumulated paperwork– and stop pouting, damn it, you brought this on yourself.
Promises that look easy until Dazai finds himself alone with a gun and he can swear it's begging to be fired, until he's at a bar with more alcohol than blood in his veins and toasts with a ghost and a friend he would kill if it didn't involve giving him what Dazai himself craves, until his hands subconsciously tie the knot he knows by heart with a rope he found in the Agency storeroom while looking for candy for Ranpo; and he forces himself to remember that he has a date he's actually looking forward to, that he hasn't got the hang of that Mexican dish he wants Kunikida to try, that there is always a chance to guilt-trip Atsushi into doing the paperwork in his stead.
He breaks the promises, sometimes. Caring takes a strength Dazai doesn't always have; when that happens Kunikida is angry, but also sad; Dazai knows he thinks it's pointless, always wonders if this is the time his partner will give up on him. And it scares him, but part of him wishes for it, because dedication is so hard and everything would be easier if it were just like it was before (before Odasaku, before the Agency, before him).
And yet he knows before won't come back anymore, that searching for it will only bring him more pain.
In the end, he's just grateful because Kunikida doesn't give up.
Not yet.
Unsatisfied with simply combing his hair, Dazai's fingers crawl up to Kunikida's cheek, caress it so carefully he almost forgets to breathe for a second. He frowns when he feels it warmer than usual, but it's nothing surprising; after all, it is the most logical reason for Kunikida being still asleep.
Ever since spending the night at Kunikida's became a habit Dazai doesn't need to set an alarm. Kunikida always rises with the sun, does whatever he has to do (Dazai is curious about it, but not enough to lose sleep over finding out Kunikida's early morning rituals), then wakes him up to have breakfast and leave for work. His biological clock is so flawless illness is the only possible explanation for its error.
The fever doesn't seem to be high, though, so Dazai lets him sleep.
Or, well, that's what he would do if it were up to him, but Kunikida's hand grabbing his wrist sloppily is probably a sign he should start considering plan B.
Which probably doesn't consist on watching his partner stir awake and memorising every move, but Dazai isn't exactly against improvising. Kunikida's usual frown returns to its place for a second, a small pout on his lips as he opens his eyes and tries to simultaneously see anything without his glasses and blink sleep away. Dazai doesn't fight the smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Good morning," slips out of his mouth. Plan B included a mocking tone laced with the words that doesn't make it.
Kunikida frowns. This time the wrinkles stay.
"How come you woke up first?" His voice is a bit hoarse; Dazai shrugs and Kunikida's eyes narrow. "What time is it?"
"Half past ten." Upon glancing at the clock for a second, though, Dazai corrects himself: "Almost eleven."
He swears he can see all five stages of grief on Kunikida's face in less than one second. Dazai bites his lower lip to keep himself from laughing when his partner sits up, as if the information would make more sense in that position.
"Ele–– But how… We are–– Why didn't you wake me?"
"We were late when I woke up too, so I didn't really see the point." Dazai explains. "Besides, you have a fever, so it's better you stay here today."
He honestly didn't expect Kunikida to look so offended.
"I don't have––" he starts, bringing his palm to his forehead, eyebrows practically knitted together at this point. "I don't have a fever."
Dazai raises an eyebrow. "You do." He places his hands on Kunikida's chest, pushes him down again. "So behave yourself until you feel better."
He feels Kunikida's attempts at sitting up again, but Dazai is laying on his chest and pretty sure he will win this battle.
"I don't even feel bad," Kunikida starts.
"You still can give the others whatever you've caught."
"And what about you?"
Dazai smirks. "As long as it's potentially lethal I don't care."
Despite his words, Dazai notices Kunikida's glare is milder than usual. "Then I'll wear a mask. I have a lot of work to do– and you too…"
"Your concern is touching, Kunikida-kun, but I'll catch up." Dazai brings a hand to his own chest, then frowns. "I mean. Eventually."
"Dazai, get off me," Kunikida practically begs, "or I'll break your neck."
Dazai sighs. Plan B is proving harder to carry through with than he anticipated.
"If you don't get some rest now it'll get worse," he mutters after a short silence. "Think about yourself for once."
He holds his partner's mellowed glare, knowing Kunikida can't keep arguing with him even before he tears his gaze away. Kunikida throws an arm over his face.
"I hate it when you're right." Hoping the argument is over, Dazai gets off his partner, covers him with the sheets again. "By the way, why aren't you at work?"
Dazai raises his gaze to the ceiling. "That's a good question indeed."
"You aren't using me as an excuse," Kunikida warns.
He looks a bit scared when Dazai looks at him again, smiling too widely as he leans down.
"Then we can kiss until I get sick too so I don't have to lie."
Kunikida's palm on his face stops Dazai from keeping advancing. "No, we can't."
A bit annoyed, Dazai grabs Kunikida's wrist to push his hand out of the way, places a kiss on the corner of his partner's lips just to spite him.
"And if I don't get sick?"
Kunikida shakes his head in disapproval. Of Dazai's words, of Dazai's idea, probably of Dazai's life choices in general. But he cradles Dazai's cheek with the hand Dazai is still grabbing, caresses it with his thumb.
"I might actually be feeling a bit under the weather now," he whispers.
He brings Dazai down slowly, kisses the tip of his noise as if wanting to start the day as usual anyway. Dazai closes his eyes, leaning his head on Kunikida's shoulder as he feels how his partner slides his wrist out of his hand's grasp and intertwines their fingers together.
"Then can I take care of you for once?"
"As long as you don't get tired halfway."
Dazai swallows, the weight of a new promise landing on his stomach. He has learnt to see them coming throughout these last weeks, but this one wasn't included in Plan B.
He nods anyway.
"Until we get back to work."
Caring is hard. The two people in that room know it, in any way or another.
But for now, promises are enough to get by.
Author's note: This was meant to be 100% fluff but something went wrong.
But anyway. What do you think about it? Tell me in the box below ^^