Full Summary: "Shitty Dazai, the Demon Prodigy of the Port Mafia, is using bad pick-up lines on me," snorted Chuuya. "No wonder you can't find some woman to commit suicide with you."
Dazai nonchalantly waved his accusations away with a backward swish of his hand. "If I wanted Chuuya, I could have him."
Cocking an eyebrow, Chuuya smirked. "Not with cheesy lines like that."
The executive's eye lit up, and he smiled a calculating grin that wiped away Chuuya's own, replacing it with a sense of foreboding. His stomach dropped, and his heart annoyingly skipped a beat.
"So…" hummed Dazai. He paused, scratching at the bar's wooden surface. "I guess we'll see what it takes to have Chuuya swooning at my feet."
Third Time's the Charm
Chuuya sat at one of the more low-run bars owned and operated by the Port Mafia cradling the priciest glass of wine the establishment had in stock—a 1982 Chateau Lafite Rothschild. It was outside of his budget, but after his latest mission, Chuuya believed it was a well-deserved treat. Although the aromatic scents of roses and cherries were welcoming to the senses, the flavor left much to be desired. The poor taste would have to do, however.
Sighing, Chuuya took another sip of the alcohol he shouldn't be drinking, letting it sit on his tongue before he swallowed down his attempt to drown his exhaustion and overall fed up mood with his whiny man-child of a partner. And as he sat on the tall barstool taking sip after sip of wine, Chuuya's mood swiftly morphed into the desire to wrap his hands around Dazai's scrawny neck and strangle the bastard until his lips turned blue and his brown eye popped out of his head. He deserved it for literally ditching Chuuya in a ditch when he collapsed after receiving a concussion during their assignment—and for setting his fedora on fire.
Once he had finished the first glass, Chuuya scanned the other wine bottles, pondering on whether or not he'd like to try a different selection when he felt a body brush against his. A fierce scowl etched itself between his eyebrows when he caught sight of a lanky bandaged arm waving in front of him; the wine glass almost shattered beneath his grip. Chuuya cast a sidelong glare at Dazai.
"What do you want?" he grumbled.
Dazai flashed his signature 'let's piss Chuuya off smirk' and placed a hand over his heart as he gasped, "Chuuya isn't happy to see me?"
"No."
"Aww," Dazai whined, poking out his bottom lip in a way that made Chuuya want to shove his fist down Dazai's throat, "why is chibi so mean to me?"
Swiveling on the seat, Chuuya faced Dazai and jabbed his finger into the other's chest. "You fucking left me there in enemy territory."
"Well, you were sleeping," explained Dazai.
Chuuya glowered. "No, I was concussed, you shithead!"
The executive placed his elbow on the bar and cupped his chin in the palm of his hand. A lazy lopsided smile curved the corner of his mouth. "Chuuya was sleeping like a princess waiting for her prince to sweep her away. You actually looked beautiful laying there; I should've taken a picture."
"You should've taken me to the infirmary," Chuuya countered, inadvertently blushing at the foolish flattery. Judging by the mischievous twinkle that sometimes appeared in Dazai's eye, his point had fallen on deaf ears.
"Or I could've kissed you awake," mused Dazai, tilting his head to the side in a thoughtful manner. "I am Prince Charming, after all, Chuuya-chan."
Chuuya's eye frustratingly twitched, and his knuckles cracked beneath his black gloves. "What?"
Huffing in mock exasperation, Dazai blinked sweetly. "Apparently, hat rack's still asleep, seeing as he can't keep up." Grinning, he tapped a finger against the petite mafia's lips. His smile grew when Chuuya batted his hand away.
"Do me a favor and keel over already," Chuuya hissed. To his surprise, Dazai pouted at the request.
"As appealing as that sounds," responded Dazai, leaning toward Chuuya with a flirtatious gleam in his brown gaze, "I'm willing to make a sacrifice since someone has to kiss Chuuya the Sleeping Beauty awake, or else I'll be the one left to do all the mission reports."
In spite of the obvious insanity that is Dazai Osamu, Chuuya couldn't help but feel like he was missing something during their exchange. The cocky look on the waste of bandages' face didn't help his confusion in the slightest. As he silently rattled through the conversation, a certain word forced its way to the forefront of his mind: kiss. Based on Dazai's overconfident and triumphant smirk, he saw the light bulb flash above Chuuya's head, too.
Suddenly, the sound of Chuuya's laughter echoed throughout the bustling bar, overriding the sound of chatter. Though it was gone seconds later, the sight of Dazai caught off-guard by his unexpected response only added to his glee.
"What's so funny, chibi?" drawled Dazai.
"Shitty Dazai, the Demon Prodigy of the Port Mafia, is using bad pick-up lines on me," snorted Chuuya. "No wonder you can't find some woman to commit suicide with you."
Dazai nonchalantly waved his accusations away with a backward swish of his hand. "If I wanted Chuuya, I could have him."
Cocking an eyebrow, Chuuya smirked. "Not with cheesy lines like that."
The executive's eye lit up, and he smiled a calculating grin that wiped away Chuuya's own, replacing it with a sense of foreboding. His stomach dropped, and his heart annoyingly skipped a beat.
"So…" hummed Dazai. He paused, scratching at the bar's wooden surface. "I guess we'll see what it takes to have Chuuya swooning at my feet."
"How are you doing, Chuuya-kun?" asked Kouyou, beckoning the young man toward a iron-wrought table and chair.
"I'm alright, Ane-san," Chuuya replied as he sat down. He reached for the teapot and began filling a cup for Kouyou before serving himself. "How are you?"
Kouyou took a sip of her tea, glancing at the other with a cocked eyebrow over the rim of the cup. "Well, I've been waiting for a certain someone to visit me; I haven't seen him for quite awhile," she remarked with a faint smile.
Wincing, Chuuya frowned. "I'm sorry, Ane-san."
"There's no need to apologize, lad," insisted Kouyou. "Dazai-kun hasn't been working you too hard, has he?"
"Of course he has," replied Chuuya with a roll of his eyes and a nonchalant wave of his gloved hand. "The bastard can't do anything on his own. I'm about to fucking kill—"
His words were cut off by the sound of his phone blaring to life. Normally it was kept on silent out of respect for Kouyou, but there it was, vibrating and singing in his back pocket. The blood drained from his face as he listened to the unexpected song.
I don't want a lot for Christmas
There is just one thing I need
I don't care about the presents
Underneath the Christmas tree
I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true oh
All I want for Christmas is you
"Perhaps you should answer that," suggested Kouyou, and Chuuya flushed with equal parts mortification and embarrassment.
Chuuya whipped out his cell phone and looked at the bright screen: a picture of Dazai winking stared back at him. He gripped the device, his knuckles cracking; he was surprised the thing didn't crumble beneath his grip. Seething, he tapped on the answer icon and brought the phone to his ear.
"What the fuck, Dazai!" growled Chuuya, tossing a glare at his cooling tea.
"Chuuya~!" came the aggravating sound of the waste of bandages' voice. "About time you answered."
"How the hell did you get ahold of my phone? And what's with the god damn song?"
Chuuya could practically hear Dazai's grin when the bastard spoke.
"You should learn to keep your apartment door locked, chibi; someone could hurt you, you know."
"Or maybe you should stop breaking into people's homes," countered Chuuya.
Dazai was apparently hellbent on ignoring him, seeing as he began loudly singing—which was more like screaming with a pleasant voice—over Chuuya's retort.
"...All I want for Christmas is you…"
Chuuya could feel Kouyou's eyes on him.
"Cut the shit," he snapped, his fist clenching around his phone. "Why the hell are you calling me?"
"I already told you."
"What?"
"Has Chuuya always been this dumb?" Dazai wondered aloud. He paused, and Chuuya mentally counted how many knives he had on hand and how many it would take to slice Dazai's throat open.
Finally, after Chuuya decided it would only take one, but he would use all ten anyway, Dazai continued.
"I was calling to tell you that I want hat rack for Christmas. It's right around the corner, after all."
Chuuya's cheeks burst with color, the shade deepening to a crimson red when the stupid mackerel began singing again. Without another word, he ended the call and briefly considered crushing his phone, but he turned on the silent mode instead.
"And what was that about?" asked Kouyou.
Turning his blue eyes on the woman, Chuuya was surprised to see her smiling, her red eyes twinkling with a hint of conspiracy.
"The crazy bastard's over his obsession with suicide; he wants to be murdered."
Kouyou took another sip of tea, then said, "From what I heard, he wants you."
Inside of an abandoned warehouse, Chuuya crouched behind a stack of crates, his back pressed against their sides as he peeked around the corner at a rival gang that had been looting the Port Mafia's gun routes. He turned his attention to Tachihara, who was hiding behind another set of crates approximately ten feet away, and watched as he carefully pulled out his guns.
"Chuuya-san."
"What do you see, Akutagawa-kun?" questioned Chuuya, his voice a whisper as he spoke into the small Bluetooth microphone. He cast a covert glance on the upper level of the building where he knew Akutagawa was located before focusing on their targets.
"They're loading the weapons into five vans by the dock." The response was followed by a cough.
"Take Tachihara with you, Akutagawa-kun," Dazai cut in. "Chuuya can handle whoever's inside."
Chuuya scowled at the men roving around the center of the building. "Oi! Why don't you just keep your mouth shut since you're holed up in the car?"
"Akutagawa-kun?"
"Dazai-san?"
"Why is Chuuya so mean to me?"
"Because you're a dick," hissed Chuuya.
A smitten sigh could be heard over their headsets. "Such cruel words are the reason why I would kill anyone who would try to take you away, my petite mafia."
Chuuya's teeth clicked together, and he growled, "If that's supposed to be romantic, it's not working."
"Would it help if I told Tachihara, Akutagawa-kun, and…Hirotsu-san how beautiful I think you are?"
A part of Chuuya's soul died when a wide-eyed Tachihara stared at him and the sound of Akutagawa hacking away reached his ear over the headset; he refused to imagine Hirotsu-san's reaction. Nevertheless, he blushed a brilliant shade of scarlet from the roots of his hair down to his tiny toes.
"So, what do you say, dear?"
"Tch, what?"
The sound of Dazai gasping could undoubtedly be heard throughout the world.
"Noo!"—and Chuuya glowered at Dazai's attempt to sound offended—"He wasn't listening to my proposal!"
"P-proposal?" sputtered Chuuya.
"You're killing me, chibi!"
"I wish."
"Anyway, will you be my wife?"
"No!" Chuuya screamed, then swore when the sound of gunfire rang throughout the warehouse.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tachihara dart out from his cover and begin shooting at the rival gang members as he ran down the length of the building; bodies dropped to the floor.
"I'm fucking wringing your neck when we get back, mackerel," promised Chuuya.
"It's a date~!"
Huffing, Chuuya stood and vaulted over the crates with his knives at the ready.
Feeling a bit pissed off, Chuuya found himself back at the same low-run bar, cradling a glass of Pétrus. He crossed his legs and took a sip of the alcohol, letting it sit on his tongue before swallowing it. Chuuya let out a sigh and set the glass on the table, tapping his fingers against its stem.
Suddenly, a tingle traveled down his spine—someone was watching him. Chuuya casually swiveled on the stool. He immediately scowled at the sight of Dazai slowly weaving through the crowd, paying no mind to those he bumped into as he approached him. Chuuya was graced with a sly smirk as Dazai sat next to him.
"Fancy seeing you here, chibi."
Chuuya rolled his eyes. "You knew I'd be here."
With a lazy lopsided smile, Dazai shrugged. "Of course."
Set on ignoring the thorn in his side, Chuuya made a move to turn away, but was caught off guard when Dazai grabbed his chin, forcing Chuuya to look up at him. He shot the executive a dirty glare; Dazai grinned sweetly.
"Oi! What—mmph!"
Chuuya's pending tirade was cut off when Dazai leaned down and kissed him. His blue eyes fluttered shut as the other's soft lips brush against his own and calloused fingers caressed his cheek. Chuuya flushed when he felt the corners of Dazai's mouth curl into a smile.
"So...shouldn't you be swooning?" murmured Dazai between kisses.
"Don't be so full of yourself." Chuuya opened his eyes and smirked. "I knew I shouldn't have put the idea in your head—it almost got me killed."
"Did Chuuya honestly believe that I would let such a wonderful opportunity pass me by?" countered Dazai. He tucked an errant curl behind Chuuya's ear. "You surprised me, though."
"Surprised I didn't stab you in the throat after you spewed some shit about me becoming your wife over the radio?"
Sparkles glistened behind Dazai's brown eye. "That has to be the most romantic thing you've ever said to me, hat rack," he enthused. "Are you sure you don't want to be my wife?"
"Pfft!" scoffed Chuuya. He half heartedly pushed Dazai away and returned to his drink. "Like I'd marry your suicidal ass."
Pouting, Dazai clutched the material over his chest and whined, "Aww…can't you be nice to me tonight?" He reached out for Chuuya, but his hands were batted away.
"Why would I do that?"
"It's date night."
Chuuya shot him a sidelong glance and took a sip of his wine. "So?"
Before Dazai could complain again, Chuuya downed the rest of his drink and slid down from the bar stool.
"Come on, mackerel."
He took a step forward, but was prevented from going any further when Dazai wrapped his hand around Chuuya's wrist. He turned to face the other and watched as Dazai brought his hand to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss against his knuckles. Chuuya's eyes narrowed.
"What?"
A slow mischievous smile spread across Dazai's face, and Chuuya's stomach plummeted to his toes.
"Does this mean I have a chance with my petite mafia?" asked Dazai.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about you marrying me," clarified Dazai. "Geez, chibi, you really need to learn how to keep up. I really don't understand how I ended up with such a slow partner who wears awful hats. And don't get me started on your clothing…"
"If you keep saying shit like that, I'm not marrying you." Chuuya closed his eyes, swearing beneath his breath—a trap. After a few seconds of berating himself and imagining Dazai's death, he opened his eyes and glared.
"I guess this means we'll have to see what it takes to get Chuuya to marry me," said Dazai with an evil smile.
Fuck.
"All I Want for Christmas is You" lyrics belong to Mariah Carey! This fic is a gift for a BSD gift exchange on Tumblr.