all for myself
.
At 2:43 am he wakes to cold air freezing the foot peeking outside the covers.
He grunts as he flexes his leg, shuddering as he inches closer to the source of warmth next to him. A noise coming from Kunikida's throat mirrors the one he just let out when icy toes brush naked skin.
The fingers curled around his wrist tighten and Kunikida mutters something that might be his name; a smile curves his lips as he dozes off as inevitably as he came to.
.
At 5:27 am he wakes to a blue darkness.
Eyebrows knitting together, he sits up to look through the window. Soon he's trembling again because its cold outside the covers; but the white piling on the windowsill catches his attention.
That hand doesn't hold his wrist anymore, but a pair or arms sneaks sloppily around his waist.
"Stay here," comes a hoarse whisper, not entirely awake.
"It's snowing."
Dazai's brain is probably half asleep, too.
But the hug only tightens, so he lays back down and throws the covers over them again.
.
At 6:45 am a kiss on his temple gently drags him to wakefulness.
There is nobody with him when he opens his eyes, though. But he can hear steps outside; he closes his eyes and lets the sound lull him back to sleep.
.
At 9:36 am hunger beats laziness.
But he's still half asleep, so he wraps himself up in a blanket to drag his feet towards the kitchen. He stops by the living room, though, gaze fixed on the familiar figure sitting at the low table, typing on his laptop.
"Good morning, Kunikida-kun," he greets, walking towards him and sitting down. "Have you ever heard of staying in bed until late on your free day?" he adds with a yawn.
Kunikida looks at him, expression rigid and ready to give Dazai some sort of talk about schedules and responsibility and how important for society to work they are; but as soon as his grey gaze takes in Dazai's appearance his lips press together in what Dazai deduces is supressed laughter.
"Have you ever heard of combs?" Kunikida retorts, raising his hand to try to fix the mess that is Dazai's hair; but there is only amusement in his voice. His gestures are careful and tickle and Dazai's eyelids flutter close, but not before he catches a glimpse of Kunikida's exasperated smile. "And this is important," he remarks.
"How so? Is it an emergency? "
"It's a report."
Dazai opens his eyes just to make sure Kunikida sees how he rolls them, warm fingers stopping combing his hair. "It's Sunday."
"So?"
"Do it tomorrow at the Agency." Dazai raises his hand to close the laptop, pressing down slightly against Kunikida's hand.
"But––"
"Nobody is in danger, so it's not an emergency."
Dazai smiles at Kunikida's mild glare, teeth showing when the hand finally retreats and he can completely close the laptop. He can almost see his partner's brain desperately seeking something to turn the tables and win the argument, but Dazai already knows he won't find it.
He observes Kunikida's frown deepening, lips pressed together in concentration and eyes narrowing in pure resentment because he doesn't like admitting Dazai is right and he got himself into a situation that requires it.
"Alright," he finally grumbles, tearing his gaze off Dazai to fix it on the white picture beyond the window. "What do you want to do, then? I already cleared out the entrance and checked the pipes, so there isn't really much left––"
"Kunikida-kun," Dazai's smirk falls, glancing at the clock on the wall and wondering how on earth his partner has already done so much while he's still getting used to wakefulness, "how about we just go for a walk?"
Kunikida turns his head to look at him again, eyes wide as if the thought of just relaxing hadn't even crossed his mind. Which is likely, Dazai deduces; fun is not really a common word in the Ideal.
"A walk?"
Dazai halts before nodding, briefly considers the idea; the weather is way too cold for his liking and he wants nothing else than to curl into himself and sleep until spring comes again, but keeping Kunikida away from everything his book says he has to do will be easier outside.
"I want to step on the snow. It's beautiful, isn't it? Besides I guess you had breakfast already, but we could go somewhere so I can eat too."
"You're just too lazy to make something yourself and clean afterwards," Kunikida accuses; but the warmth colouring his cheeks betrays his words.
Dazai hums, pensive. "Or maybe I just want to have you all for myself today."
.
At 10:07 am they walk into the snow, slightly shivering despite the many layers of clothes Kunikida insisted they wrapped themselves in.
The streets are empty, children gathered in parks to play with the snow being the only exception; most sensible people would rather stay inside when they don't have a powerful reason to go out.
Under normal circumstances Dazai would agree.
But no people means nobody watches them, and that means Kunikida has no excuses and can stop pretending he doesn't like holding Dazai's hand as they walk.
Dazai would bet his gloves his partner's ears are endearingly red under his woollen hat. But that would probably prompt Kunikida to kick him and make the rest of the way two metres apart, so Dazai buries his nose into the borrowed scarf to hide his smile.
At least, until Kunikida's fingers disentangle from his on their own. Dazai stops and turns his head, confused when his partner looks for something in the many pockets of his coat.
"Kunikida-kun, what are you––"
The rest of the sentence dies before reaching his lips when the Ideal emerges from a pocket that doesn't look big enough for it to fit in, Kunikida's other hand holding a pen as he opens the notebook.
Dazai stays silent as his partner scribbles something on a blank page, tilts his head to the side when he tears the sheet off and calls upon his ability, squinting when Kunikida's fist closes around what he just materialised.
"Here." Dazai stretches his arm in curiosity, palm upwards to catch what his partner leaves there. Fingers curl around something hard as he brings it close and opens his hand to examine it.
Brown eyes widen in surprise upon landing on a little crystal ball with a stripped cat sitting inside, trapped in a transparent cage. Lips forming a small o, Dazai shakes it and watches as artificial snowflakes fall on the figure, as if he had never seen a snow globe.
"My birthday is in June," he mutters absentmindedly, hypnotised by the sight.
"I know," Kunikida snaps almost defensively, shoving book and pen into his pocket again.
"And it's not Christmas yet."
"I know!" The retort sounds oddly weak. "But… since you seem to like snow…" Dazai's gaze shifts to Kunikida when he trails off, raising his eyebrows upon noticing his partner's red cheeks. "Just keep it," he grunts, his tone almost annoyed.
Dazai's grip around the snow globe tightens. He bites on his lower lip to stop its trembling, not even knowing why it's doing it in the first place.
"Thank you," he whispers, not wanting to tell Kunikida he doesn't even like snow that much to begin with. Something so warm it almost burns gets stuck in his throat when Kunikida takes his hand again and resumes walking.
"Weren't you hungry?"
Dazai smiles, accepts the moment is over and starts walking too, brushing the familiar matchbox when he leaves the snow globe in the pocket of his trench coat.
"Shouldn't you use your ability for important things?" he asks, though.
Kunikida looks at him, fingers tightening around Dazai's. He's still blushing and there's no doubt he would rather ignore the question, but his voice sounds clear and confident when he answers:
"I just did."