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It was nice to be able to sit with Fyodor like this, without any prying eyes around. It was Yokohama’s hottest summer to date, and the recent outburst of mosquitoes helped keep people inside at dusk, which Dazai was incredibly grateful for. Even if he had to swat away a bug or two, it was worth it for this.
He felt himself sag against the tough wooden bench, exhaustion seeping into his muscles. It felt incredibly freeing to get a break from all of the recent cases, since a sudden surge of crimes had been keeping the Armed Detective Agency busy. Far too busy, in his opinion. Even if he didn't normally get more than an hour of sleep, he was beyond tired now.
His vision started darkening as his eyelids began to droop, and…
He heard a chuckle next to him and turned sleepily to see a small smile on Fyodor’s face, watching him with a softened gaze. “Sleepy, are we?” He whispered gently, as though to not startle him, like coming across an injured animal.
Fyodor was renowned for manipulation through his smooth words, but so was Dazai. They knew each other better than anyone and could see right through whatever mask the other would put up - and the way Fyodor was looking at him right now reeked of fondness. Gross.
Dazai simply grunted in reply, too tired to argue, and shuffled closer to Fyodor. Glancing over to his boyfriend, Dazai gave him a pleading questioning glance, and the russian nodded in response, the hint of a smile still lingering on his face. Dazai couldn’t help the grin that grew on his own face as he slowly settled his head on Fyodor’s shoulder.
He didn’t get a reaction to it, and didn’t expect one. Fyodor was never one to initiate physical contact, even if he accepted it happily. His ability could kill a man, after all, and even if it’s only activated on command and wouldn’t affect Dazai anyway, the period of time of not being able to control it probably made him instinctively hesitant as a survival mechanism. It was only natural for him to be distrustful.
Dazai didn’t mind anyway; his priority was that Fyodor was comfortable with him. He would accept any intimacy he got.
They wouldn’t get a lot of moments like this though, much to his dismay - especially since Dazai can’t be seen with Fyodor in front of the Armed Detective Agency (the Decay of the Angel found out quickly and were weirdly cool with it). It would cause a riot, definitely ruining their precious harmony that they worked so hard to protect - Dazai even had to threaten call in a favour with Ango so they’d be left alone, which was hell in itself. And besides, he didn't want to think about the expressions on his friends upon seeing his treasured partner, or their disappointment in Dazai. It would crush his heart in the worst possible way, so this was the best alternative, unfortunately.
His heart sank a little. He wanted there to be more of this. In fact, he would do almost anything for just that, he realised. There had to be something… what do couples usually do to spend time together? Dates, which they already did, and...
Oh!
He could feel the gears in his head turning with a new idea, and lifted his head off Fyodor’s shoulder gently to turn to him, beaming. Fyodor’s head tilted questioningly, though he spotted a flicker of anticipation in his eyes. “What have you been thinking so hard about, dear?”
Oh, he was so cute when he did that little head tilt; it reminded him of an inquisitive cat, and only strengthened his resolve for this decision.
“Fyodor,” he managed to breathe out, grin widening, “let’s get an apartment together.”
After a few seconds of no response, he felt his face flush, averting his eyes in embarrassment. Was this something Fyodor wanted? Maybe he had made a miscalculation-
“That’s a lovely idea, Osamu. Let’s do it.”
He looked back to Fyodor, shocked, and there was nothing but warmth and sincerity on his face, more than he’d ever seen on him. It wasn't quite a smile, but it felt like one. Dazai's joyful grin crawled back onto his face, and he set his head back on Fyodor’s shoulder, letting out a relaxed sigh.
He hadn't felt this peaceful in forever.
1
At last, he had finished unpacking. Dazai’s belongings were all in the right places now, in his new room in their new apartment.
Admittedly, he didn’t have a lot of personal belongings to place in his room in the first place, but they meant the world to him. He could count five:
- A giant crab plushie that was given to him by Chuuya when they were teens as a gag gift,
- A bouquet of daffodils from Atsushi as a housewarming gift (“They represent new beginnings!” he had explained excitedly),
- An empty wine bottle from Yosano that she had offered him while drunk that he put the daffodils in,
- A cute blue polaroid camera that Kyouka got him on his birthday,
- And a notebook that Kunikida had given him so that he could ‘write down things that make him happy, and make life worth living’ (it was mostly filled with photos of stray cats and Fyodor he had taken with the above camera).
Nodding triumphantly at his work, he turned on his heel and walked into the lounge, not quite expecting the sight before him.
Fyodor was sitting on the couch, their tabby cat Duchess curled up in his lap, and he was petting her absentmindedly, staring at the cat with wide eyes as if he had seen the animal for the first time. Duchess, however, was purring loudly (he could hear it from the other side of the lounge!) and had her fluffy belly very much exposed, staring up at the man with a look of adoration, if a cat could make such a face.
Oh, how he wished he was holding his camera right now.
Manoeuvring around various moving boxes still strewn about, Dazai made his way over to the couch, sitting down next to his boyfriend as gently as possible so as to not disturb the fickle feline.
“Looks like the cat’s caught a rat,” he whispered teasingly, stifling a giggle.
“This cat could catch gods if she so wished,” Fyodor muttered back with a huff.
Reaching out a hand, Dazai began to pet Duchess as well, absorbed in the softness of the situation. It was so easy to be absorbed by all of this, so easy for the world to simply melt away around them.
Eventually, Dazai noticed, Fyodor had paused petting, his brows furrowed in deep thought, and Dazai studied his expression with curiosity. To an outsider, Fyodor’s face would have appeared completely expressionless and blank, but the two of them could read each other like open books, picking up on the tiniest of differences in their expressions no matter how hard they tried to hide it.
“Dearest mouse, what’s making you worry your pretty little head?” Dazai inquired with a smirk, leaning in closer.
Fyodor didn’t respond, clearly too absorbed in his thoughts to answer. Finally, his absent violet gaze turned from thoughtful to determined with whatever decision he had made in his head…
…and suddenly Fyodor’s hand was in his own.
Dazai froze. Fyodor was… holding his hand?
His grip was firm but gentle, an anchor weighing him down. It was almost like the rat was scared of letting go. This wasn’t like Fyodor at all, or not the one Dazai knew (that thought made him uneasy, somehow). Maybe Duchess had slowed down his brain with that lazy charm of hers.
They sat there like that for a while, and despite the sudden gesture, it was a comfortable silence. Dazai didn’t dare move, didn’t dare lose something so precious - whatever Fyodor had been thinking to consider this, it clearly meant something important to him. It was as though he had offered Dazai a piece of his heart on a silver platter, and whatever it meant, he couldn’t, wouldn’t, let it go to waste.
And something about the situation was soothing to him, but he wasn't quite sure what it was.
Though it probably had been something like half an hour, it felt far too short when Duchess got up and scampered off, Fyodor following a minute later, leaving Dazai alone with his thoughts.
His hand felt warm where Fyodor had held it, despite the russian’s cold skin.
2.
“Dammit, why won’t this seal?”
Throwing his hands up in frustration, Dazai glowered threateningly at his unfinished homemade pierogi, and then glared again at the yellowed pages of Fyodor’s ancient slavic cookbook. Seriously, the thing had to be at least 100 years old. Some of the text was written in some kind of slavic language, and many of the english words were outdated or spelled incorrectly. He think he remembered Fyodor mentioning something about it being his grandmother's..?
This was probably a terrible idea in the first place, to be honest. Dazai was renowned for being dreadful at cooking to an unholy degree, to the point that Kunikida had started using a cat spray bottle against him whenever he would approach the kitchen back in the Agency dorms, and Yosano warned anyone who showed interest in him to never let him cook for them.
Shaking away his doubts, he stared at the pierogi again with a calculating gaze. He had to do this somehow, though. What kind of boyfriend would he be if he let his sick partner grow hungry in bed?
As much as he'd like to admire Fyodor’s cute sleeping face while bedridden, this was much more important. It was pretty silly of him to get sick, though. He’d have to tease him about it later.
Now. How could he get the pierogi to seal?
Completely absorbed in his calculations, Dazai didn’t hear the sound of a door opening, nor did he notice the sound of shuffling feet dragging across the kitchen floor.
That is, until Fyodor was standing right next to him, a massive blanket draped over his body like an armadillo’s shell, snapping Dazai out of his thoughts. The dark circles under the other's eyes were deeper than usual, and his face was flushed from the fever. He seemed unsteady on his feet, swaying slightly, and his expression was blank yet worn.
“Fyodor? You really should be in bed, you can barely stand up! I’ve got this handled, really,” Dazai sputtered, not hiding his surprise.
Fyodor simply chuckled under his breath in response - though it sounded tired and husky - and shuffled closer.
“Foolish of you to think I’d fall for that, Osamu,” he whispered hoarsely yet fondly - making Dazai’s face erupt into a furious blush - before he turned to face the detective’s pitiful attempt at pierogi, seemingly unaware of his partner’s flustered state.
And then, to make matters worse, an arm slung across Dazai’s back, pulling him close to Fyodor’s side and making his poor brain short-circuit.
“Here, to seal the pierogi you pinch the sides all around like this,” Fyodor explained, showing him with his own hands, doing it with the grace of someone who know's what they're doing, and Dazai tried his best to follow his instructions while attempting to ignore the fluttering in his chest. He was so close, and so warm...
Fyodor didn’t say anything about how distracted he seemed, but underneath his blank expression there seemed to be a stir of some unreadable emotion. Dazai didn’t want to think about what that meant.
Once Dazai had managed to make the pierogi look acceptable, Fyodor nodded his approval. “It takes practice, but I think you have the potential to be a great pierogi-maker. Try practising with the rest of the batch, I’m going back to bed.” Dazai had barely been able to reply with an ‘okay’ before he was gone, leaving the kitchen feeling very empty and cold.
Stunned, Dazai stared at the door Fyodor had left through. Had he dreamed that? A pinch and- ah, no, he was very much awake. What brought upon that, then? He definitely appreciated it, but… why?
A soft smile settled on Dazai’s features. Even when he knew him better than anyone, he could still be indecipherable to him. How very Fyodor.
Duchess, sitting in the corner of the kitchen, gave Dazai a very disapproving look, to which he responded by scowling at the cat. "I am NOT hopeless! How dare you suggest such a thing!"
The pierogi that night wasn’t great. It was overcooked, the seals were clumsily done, and the filling was spilling out a little bit.
Still, Fyodor beamed at him after eating, and his heart swelled with pride. “I think it’s your best cooking yet.”
3.
Yawning, Dazai stumbled into their apartment. That case had been far too long, lasting nearly a week to resolve, and he was ready to sleep. Or at least, try to. He just needed to rest for a while.
After he had taken his meds, he turned to see Fyodor standing in front of him silently; Dazai didn’t know how his footsteps could be so quiet, sometimes. By the looks of his stiff posture, it was something serious.
“Mouse? It’s a bit late,” Dazai checked the clock, “1am! Shouldn’t you be getting your beauty sleep?” He tried to make it sound teasing, but he knew that it was obvious he was concerned.
“Osamu. I need a favour,” Fyodor muttered, shifting on his feet somewhat. Dazai nodded, gesturing for him to go on, and Fyodor sighed. “Can I have… the thing… you know…”
Dazai blinked. What? “I’m sorry mouse, could you be more specific?”
Fyodor opened his mouth again to explain, then shut it again with a snort and a roll of his eyes, before opening his arms wide.
A… hug?
Dazai leaned forward, and Fyodor nodded with a determined expression. And then, before he knew it, his arms were wrapped around his boyfriend in a warm embrace, and he was hugging back even tighter. Dazai was less surprised this time; he had noticed Fyodor’s little sneaky affectionate touches lately, but it still caught him off guard.
“Aww, did a certain demon miss me?”
“Yes.”
The response came immediately, with no hesitation.
Dazai smiled, burying his face in Fyodor’s neck.
“I missed you too.”
That night, as Dazai lay in bed wide awake due to his insomnia, he daydreamed about Fyodor. Even if he couldn’t sleep much, at least this night would be good.
4.
Shivering for a moment at the cold breeze, Dazai gazed up at the dead cherry tree in front of their apartment, silently commending himself for picking a place with a balcony. The view of the city drenched in ethereal white snow at night, strangely calm for a city, was stunning.
The balcony was rather cluttered, except for their outdoor table and chairs they were sitting in currently. Varying pots and household items filled with plants filled most of the balcony, which Fyodor had been using for gardening tea, as well as some poisons for his plans. Many of the poisons were left unharvested over time, though.
The faint smells of different tea leaves were barely noticeable in the frigid air.
Feeling a twitch at his side, Dazai looked over at his boyfriend leaning against him, a warm presence in all the cold.
Despite being bundled up with many layers of fluffy blankets and sweaters, Fyodor sneezed, wrinkling his nose. Perhaps a normal couple would've said 'Bless you' or maybe would ask the other if they needed to go inside, but Fyodor and Dazai didn't need to talk much to understand each other. He could tell that Fyodor didn't seem to mind the chilly breeze, staring at the alluring view of the city with a small smile, dark hair drifting in the breeze, and Dazai felt his breath hitch at the sight. He really was breathtaking in quiet moments like this, hauntingly beautiful and too ineffable to be described correctly by mortal tongue. If he tried, he would say that he reminded him of a winter spirit, or perhaps the fleeting glimpse of a stag in the woods, but those felt too gentle to describe such a being as him.
The view looked a lot prettier with Fyodor in it, he thought.
Mentally shaking himself out of his infatuated reverie, Dazai directed his attention back to how cold his partner obviously was. After a bit of thought, he decided it wasn't the best idea to try to persuade Fyodor to come inside and warm up, as Fyodor could be even more stubborn than he was.
Dazai’s perception of time was already lousy, but this moment, in all of its near supernatural essence, seemed to worsen it somehow. How long had it been? Seconds, minutes, hours ?
However how much time had passed, Dazai started to notice the fluffy blob at his side leaning in more, and glanced at Fyodor to see him struggling to keep his eyes open, blinking slowly. Sighing fondly to himself, Dazai stood and helped Fyodor to his feet, the russian stumbling at the sudden interruption.
“Let’s get ourselves to bed, hmm?” Dazai murmured softly. Fyodor nodded slowly, swaying on his feet, and Dazai lead him into the house, holding his hand, and came in front of Fyodor's bedroom, when Fyodor suddenly stopped in his tracks in front of the open door, still holding Dazai’s hand.
Turning to his boyfriend, Dazai looked at him quizzically.
“Mouse? What is it?”
Fyodor’s tired face snapped to Dazai’s with a resolute expression.
“Osamu. Go to sleep here, with me… please .”
Dazai’s face split into a wide grin, and a giggle escaped his lips. He couldn't pass up a chance to tease his beloved.
“Oooh… how scandalous, dear demon! So forward~”
Fyodor’s expression hardened into a glare, and Dazai giggled again, waving a hand. He wasn't the most incoherent right now, after all that soft daydreaming.
“Sorry, sorry! I just thought it was funny! I’ll be serious, I promise. Just a question, though…”
“What made you want to get closer to me, like this? I noticed your sneaky little touches over time, you know. It makes me happy, but… why?”
Fyodor’s gaze softened, and a flicker of a smile crossed his face.
“Because I trust you, obviously. I haven’t been this close to anyone since… ever, I think. I wanted to trust, but I just couldn’t. Until recently. I figured that if you trusted me enough, loved me enough perhaps, to live with me, then it wouldn’t be such a hard thing to do. And I don’t regret it. So thank you, Osamu.”
The corners of Fyodor’s mouth began to lift up at the start of a big smile, and he quickly covered it with his hand to hide it, until Dazai pulled it off with his own. Their hands fit together perfectly like puzzle pieces, he mused for a moment.
“Don’t hide that smile, Fyodor. I love you, got it?”
At that, Fyodor’s face erupted in the widest smile he’d ever seen, and a gleeful laugh escaped his lips, so loud and long that he was crying tears of laughter.
Dazai's eyes became wide at this, awestricken and ecstatic, for this was the first time he had seen him genuinely laugh more than a chuckle; it sounded even more beautiful than Fyodor's elite-level cello skills. Soon, Dazai was laughing as well, and Fyodor tugged Dazai over to his soft bed where two of them stumbled and fell onto it, the both of them a giggling mess.
After their giggling ceased - though there were still blissful smiles on both faces - Fyodor pulled the warm fur blankets over them, and pulled his Dazai close to his torso. Fyodor's eyelids began to droop, and just before he drifted off to a warm sleep, he managed to whisper out to his partner.
“I love you too, Osamu. Don’t forget… it…”
Dazai held him close as Fyodor fell asleep, and nodded off as well, not very long after.
He had a long and peaceful sleep that night, the first in years without waking up once.