Dazai's grip on Chuuya's wrist loosened, and he let his hand fall on his lap.]
Not as much as before. [The tips of his fingers itched.] What happened earlier... [His gaze fell to the zipper of Chuuya's hoodie, close to his throat. ] It's like remembering. That's all there is.
[A weak finish. Hollowness. Not as self-assured as he usually was.
He's not at all used to seeing Dazai like that. He feels bad for asking, for pushing, when it's such an uncomfortable topic. But if Dazai's still thinking about it, he wants to be prepared so he can stop him, that's all.
Since Dazai isn't holding his wrist anymore, he rubs at the back of his neck instead.]
Yeah, you've changed. I'd say it's for the better, but you're still a traitor.
[That's... Sort of a compliment? Sort of an apology. A sort of gratitude.]
[The easiest Dazai could effect was a quiet stillness. He kept his head level, his expression reflecting a tranquility that he only possessed on the surface.
How rare, for Chuuya to admit at all he thought Dazai's changed.
With a shrug, Dazai reached up to the countertop above his head, inching his hand slowly on the surface. He'd find the second cup of coffee shortly.]
[Chuuya watched Dazai's movement for only a second before reaching up himself, grabbing the coffee for him. If only so that Dazai wouldn't accidentally overturn it and spill all over them both.
He hands it over.]
Didn't think you were capable of change at all. But I guess a lot can happen in four years.
[No, not even Dazai himself thought he'd change, much less leave the Mafia. Then the mess with Odasaku, Mori, and Ango happened.
This wasn't about redemption or forgetfulness. Never was, nor did he feel obligated to follow some narrow righteous path when the world wasn't simplistic enough to fit in neat, quaint little boxes.
Still.
I'd say it's for the better, Chuuya said earlier. Of course his ex-partner would notice something when he wasn't distracted by the festering pain of betrayal. Just as he'd indirectly admitted to being aware on some level that Dazai's old jokes on death ran deep.
Dazai accepted the cup, and its weight felt strange in his hands.]
Not enough to make you that unpredictable. [He took a sip with a faint, wry smile. An unsweetened cup for this kind of day.] You still favor opening with a punch.
[The mood really felt too serious. He definitely felt bad now. Chuuya was painfully aware of how much Dazai hated talking about himself, remembered how much of a struggle it had been to get close to him when they were partners. He'd never really succeeded either, in the end.
He turns to sit next to him on the floor again, back to the cupboards, and grabs the bag of pastries. He'd hidden his pain au chocolate at the bottom, for security purposes.]
And you still can't even throw a punch. [He pulls out his pastry to take a bite.] Put your hips into it next time.
[Dazai waved him off and reached up to the counter again with his free hand, this time to search for the sugar and creamer packets. Chuuya was correct, but Dazai didn't need to acknowledge that more than necessary.]
You're fishing out the soggy cup from the sink later.
[This time, Chuuya lets him fumble around without any help. If Dazai wants to hit himself in the head with falling creamers, that’s his choice. He leans a bit to the side, though, to avoid anything falling on him as well. ]
Yeah, whatever. [He always cleans up his own messes.] But next time, you’re getting the coffee.
[The items were out of immediate reach, and Dazai pushed his back up against the cabinet with his legs to rummage farther back. He found the packets with a little more rummaging, and he let himself slide down on the floor.
One, two more sips of bitter, ground acidity before he opened the lid and added his usual mix. Stirred slowly, and let the smell guide him back to normalcy.
If Chuuya got jealous of having to smell coffee without the benefit of tasting it, so much the better.]
Instant it is.
[He wouldn't if he had a choice, and Chuuya knew that. Brewed was still better.]
He'd bough the coffee for himself, to warm himself up after his run had turned freezing, but his was now melting in the sink. He just sighed, though, and only briefly considered trying to steal Dazai's cup for a sip.]
I'm kicking you out.
[No, he's not, but no instant coffee will be allowed over the threshold.]
[Dazai heard that sigh and smiled to himself as he tasted the blend.]
Put it on your head if you need it that much, broiler-kun.
[Inaccurate term when the steam Chuuya's been able to make wasn't the right temperature. Nothing the equivalent of an open fire or direct heat, either. Still, it might work if Chuuya scrunched his eyebrows really hard. The coffee might spill down Chuuya's head, a natural side effect.
Dazai added a little more sugar to his own cup.]
And that's too bad. [Dazai's eyes glittered with mischief. Chuuya wouldn't, but the hypothetical scenario was something to make fun of.] I'll just sit on the doorstep smelling like a fresh pot of brew. No way for you to escape what you spilled after I walked all the way to the Market and back for it. The grass, at least, would appreciate it.
[Although he doesn't think it's some emotional effect anymore, just the result of going for a run in the cold without proper clothing. He's still shivering, though. He should probably shower soon.
He takes another bite out of his pastry.]
Maybe I'll build a dog house for you out there. Which color should I paint it?
[Yep, ignoring everything Dazai just said and focusing on his own fantasy.]
[Dazai didn't bother dodging the elbow and lifted his arm instead to avoid upsetting his cup.]
Work for your drink, Chuuya. [He sipped his drink.] Glare hard enough and it might. Try to make laser beams. We're in a world with that kind of possibility.
Make it red for yourself. [He sniffed. Dog house.] Aren't you more suited for it with how you bark orders all day, Mr. Leather Choker?
[Because if he can't steal the coffee, he'll pinch Dazai's side. Hard. And then he'll clamber over him to reach, because he actually has zero qualms about doing that.
Dazai grabs the counter above him, sticks out a foot, and lies on his side, careful to put the cup on the floor with his outstretched hand. When Chuuya leans in, he presses his palm to the other's chest.]
Now, now, don't be hasty. If it spills it's your fault, and you'll have to make do with a popsicle.
[Chuuya halts when he feels Dazai's palm pressed against his chest. He has to look down at him now, and that makes this a lot more awkward. Enough that he actually hesitates.]
[Chuuya guessed right, and any awkwardness was only in his head. As for Dazai, he was more focused on making it difficult for the other, though he filed away that moment of hesitation for a later examination.
He grinned and gripped the front of the other's hoodie to prevent him from getting to the cup.]
[Chuuya could easily break Dazai's grip. He's stronger, and even if he wasn't, he knows how to take advantage of pressure points, knows how to grab and twist Dazai's hand to make holding on an impossibility for him. But that would definitely spill the coffee, and right now, spilling the coffee has come to equal Losing.]
At this rate, you won't get to drink it before it goes cold either.
[So it's a stalemate. Unless he pushed Dazai off and managed to grab the cup and use his Ability on it to prevent it from spilling, all before Dazai touched him again.
[Chuuya jerks forward slightly as Dazai's grip tightens. It's getting a bit uncomfortable around his neck - not nearly enough to choke, but enough to bring the awareness that it could. He grabs Dazai's wrist to pull him off a bit.]
Combine my coffee and yours and you'll get iced coffee.
[Annnd he has to make a move here. He twists under Dazai's arm, using his core to hold himself up from the floor, so he doesn't end up on his back. He's still holding Dazai's wrist, but from that position, he can reach for the coffee with his other hand.]
[Okay, this is definitely getting awkward. He can tell Dazai is having fun with it, too, which isn't helping. But at least now Dazai's hand isn't anywhere near the coffee, which means there's less risk of spilling it, which means Chuuya is now free to move.
He rolls sharply onto his side, away from Dazai, but pulling Dazai along, hopefully lifting him slightly. That briefly puts Chuuya in a more vulnerable position, but also gets them away from the cup. Then he just as quickly twists back again, hooking his leg over Dazai's, trying to push him face first into the floor.]
A naive observer may be led to believe that the modest paper cup on the floor contained a sample of the finest beverage the universe offered. The struggle of the two men on the floor seemed desperate, a battle to earn a taste of wakefulness, only for the seriousness of the situation to fall apart with a glimpse of the impish grins curved on both participants' faces.
Dazai, curious to see where this led, didn't let go of Chuuya's wrist like he should've, and ended up with his torso lifted, his balance precarious, his eyes too close to the floor.]
This desperate, Chuuya? [His laugh was a soft puff of air.] A bold request, when you made me drop my nice croissant earlier. All that nice, crunchy outer shell in crumbs, and the fruit filling's oozing on the floor. Such a tragic waste. I suppose I'll have to bury it in the backyard and recite its eulogy, if I get that far on an empty stomach.
[Or he can just slice away the bits that touched the floor and heat it on a pan. Maybe. He wasn't picky.]
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Dazai's grip on Chuuya's wrist loosened, and he let his hand fall on his lap.]
Not as much as before. [The tips of his fingers itched.] What happened earlier... [His gaze fell to the zipper of Chuuya's hoodie, close to his throat. ] It's like remembering. That's all there is.
[A weak finish. Hollowness. Not as self-assured as he usually was.
This sucked.]
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He's not at all used to seeing Dazai like that. He feels bad for asking, for pushing, when it's such an uncomfortable topic. But if Dazai's still thinking about it, he wants to be prepared so he can stop him, that's all.
Since Dazai isn't holding his wrist anymore, he rubs at the back of his neck instead.]
Yeah, you've changed. I'd say it's for the better, but you're still a traitor.
[That's... Sort of a compliment? Sort of an apology. A sort of gratitude.]
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How rare, for Chuuya to admit at all he thought Dazai's changed.
With a shrug, Dazai reached up to the countertop above his head, inching his hand slowly on the surface. He'd find the second cup of coffee shortly.]
Imagining I'd do worse?
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He hands it over.]
Didn't think you were capable of change at all. But I guess a lot can happen in four years.
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This wasn't about redemption or forgetfulness. Never was, nor did he feel obligated to follow some narrow righteous path when the world wasn't simplistic enough to fit in neat, quaint little boxes.
Still.
I'd say it's for the better, Chuuya said earlier. Of course his ex-partner would notice something when he wasn't distracted by the festering pain of betrayal. Just as he'd indirectly admitted to being aware on some level that Dazai's old jokes on death ran deep.
Dazai accepted the cup, and its weight felt strange in his hands.]
Not enough to make you that unpredictable. [He took a sip with a faint, wry smile. An unsweetened cup for this kind of day.] You still favor opening with a punch.
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He turns to sit next to him on the floor again, back to the cupboards, and grabs the bag of pastries. He'd hidden his pain au chocolate at the bottom, for security purposes.]
And you still can't even throw a punch. [He pulls out his pastry to take a bite.] Put your hips into it next time.
[At least he was starting to thaw.]
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[Dazai waved him off and reached up to the counter again with his free hand, this time to search for the sugar and creamer packets. Chuuya was correct, but Dazai didn't need to acknowledge that more than necessary.]
You're fishing out the soggy cup from the sink later.
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Yeah, whatever. [He always cleans up his own messes.] But next time, you’re getting the coffee.
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One, two more sips of bitter, ground acidity before he opened the lid and added his usual mix. Stirred slowly, and let the smell guide him back to normalcy.
If Chuuya got jealous of having to smell coffee without the benefit of tasting it, so much the better.]
Instant it is.
[He wouldn't if he had a choice, and Chuuya knew that. Brewed was still better.]
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He'd bough the coffee for himself, to warm himself up after his run had turned freezing, but his was now melting in the sink. He just sighed, though, and only briefly considered trying to steal Dazai's cup for a sip.]
I'm kicking you out.
[No, he's not, but no instant coffee will be allowed over the threshold.]
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Put it on your head if you need it that much, broiler-kun.
[Inaccurate term when the steam Chuuya's been able to make wasn't the right temperature. Nothing the equivalent of an open fire or direct heat, either. Still, it might work if Chuuya scrunched his eyebrows really hard. The coffee might spill down Chuuya's head, a natural side effect.
Dazai added a little more sugar to his own cup.]
And that's too bad. [Dazai's eyes glittered with mischief. Chuuya wouldn't, but the hypothetical scenario was something to make fun of.] I'll just sit on the doorstep smelling like a fresh pot of brew. No way for you to escape what you spilled after I walked all the way to the Market and back for it. The grass, at least, would appreciate it.
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I'm cold right now. It wouldn't work.
[Although he doesn't think it's some emotional effect anymore, just the result of going for a run in the cold without proper clothing. He's still shivering, though. He should probably shower soon.
He takes another bite out of his pastry.]
Maybe I'll build a dog house for you out there. Which color should I paint it?
[Yep, ignoring everything Dazai just said and focusing on his own fantasy.]
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Work for your drink, Chuuya. [He sipped his drink.] Glare hard enough and it might. Try to make laser beams. We're in a world with that kind of possibility.
Make it red for yourself. [He sniffed. Dog house.] Aren't you more suited for it with how you bark orders all day, Mr. Leather Choker?
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[Also, that's it. He reaches over to grab Dazai's wrist, so he can use his other hand to steal his coffee.
He needs coffee.]
The dog is the one taking orders, idiot.
[He's definitely not starting to blush.]
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[Maybe, maybe not.
Dazai snickers as he holds his hand away. Not so fast, slug. Risk suffering the indignity of having to clamber over before you get that cup.]
Say 'wan,' chibi.
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Say ouch, asshole.
[Because if he can't steal the coffee, he'll pinch Dazai's side. Hard. And then he'll clamber over him to reach, because he actually has zero qualms about doing that.
The important thing is not to lose to Dazai.]
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Dazai grabs the counter above him, sticks out a foot, and lies on his side, careful to put the cup on the floor with his outstretched hand. When Chuuya leans in, he presses his palm to the other's chest.]
Now, now, don't be hasty. If it spills it's your fault, and you'll have to make do with a popsicle.
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If you don't want to spill it, just hand it over.
[He knows that won't happen.]
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He grinned and gripped the front of the other's hoodie to prevent him from getting to the cup.]
Nope.
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At this rate, you won't get to drink it before it goes cold either.
[So it's a stalemate. Unless he pushed Dazai off and managed to grab the cup and use his Ability on it to prevent it from spilling, all before Dazai touched him again.
He'll save that plan for an emergency.]
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Dazai stared at Chuuya before he broke down snickering, his grip on the hoodie tightening.]
Chilled coffee, no ice. That tastes fine, too!
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Combine my coffee and yours and you'll get iced coffee.
[Annnd he has to make a move here. He twists under Dazai's arm, using his core to hold himself up from the floor, so he doesn't end up on his back. He's still holding Dazai's wrist, but from that position, he can reach for the coffee with his other hand.]
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With how you just tossed it in the sink? No thanks.
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He rolls sharply onto his side, away from Dazai, but pulling Dazai along, hopefully lifting him slightly. That briefly puts Chuuya in a more vulnerable position, but also gets them away from the cup. Then he just as quickly twists back again, hooking his leg over Dazai's, trying to push him face first into the floor.]
Then give up the coffee.
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A naive observer may be led to believe that the modest paper cup on the floor contained a sample of the finest beverage the universe offered. The struggle of the two men on the floor seemed desperate, a battle to earn a taste of wakefulness, only for the seriousness of the situation to fall apart with a glimpse of the impish grins curved on both participants' faces.
Dazai, curious to see where this led, didn't let go of Chuuya's wrist like he should've, and ended up with his torso lifted, his balance precarious, his eyes too close to the floor.]
This desperate, Chuuya? [His laugh was a soft puff of air.] A bold request, when you made me drop my nice croissant earlier. All that nice, crunchy outer shell in crumbs, and the fruit filling's oozing on the floor. Such a tragic waste. I suppose I'll have to bury it in the backyard and recite its eulogy, if I get that far on an empty stomach.
[Or he can just slice away the bits that touched the floor and heat it on a pan. Maybe. He wasn't picky.]
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