Chapter Text
Dazai Osamu, the boss of Port Mafia, has no weaknesses.
His ability is the antithesis of all abilities: nullification, which means that all gifts are rendered useless against him. In physical combat he can hold his own better than most, despite it being among the least of his talents. He is swift with a gun, can shoot half a room of people before they can blink. There is nothing that gets past his sharp and quick mind, because he notices the most minute details before one can blink. He can flay open any common person with his intellect, read their intentions at a glance. He can make people do anything he wanted, anything at all, and they won't even realize they are playing to his whims.
No offers sway him in any meaningful way, and the only negotiations made are the ones where he initiates and offers, and you accept. He can't be threatened, because there isn't anything about him that can be threatened, not even his life, because he does not care for it, and far too often he is well aware that you will need him alive more than dead because of all the information, power and resources he has. There is nothing he truly lives for, so there is nothing one can hold as leverage against him. He does not feel anything, and so he has nothing to lose.
He has no weakness.
That is what most people think, because that is how he has crafted his external narrative, his personality.
All of the above things are almost true, except for the fact that he does have one weakness. He has one thing he does not want to lose. One thing that makes him feel. His best kept secret.
"You can't just knock like a normal person asshole? Do you have to break in every single time you come here?"
A tiny redheaded man is at the stove, even just the back view of his shoulders and waist beautiful in its litheness. Dazai is moving slowly across the room, hands in his coat pockets. The man doesn't even look up. The smell of crab wafts through the room. The kitchen attached to the living room is warm, making Dazai sweat slightly under the bandages and the red scarf around his neck. The sconce lights set the whole house aglow with golden, and the one right above him turns his red hair into fire.
Dazai jostles his hands out of his pockets to take him by the waist, nuzzling his nose into his neck, breathing him in. Pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to his skin there.
"Now what would be the fun in that, chibi," he murmurs against his skin.
Nakahara Chuuya. The man Dazai decided was his the very minute he saw him. Seven years now, and here they are.
Chuuya turns in his circle of arms, Dazai loosening his grip to avail him but not letting him go fully. Chuuya grabs him by his red scarf, still held close to him against his chest, and mutters, "You're an insufferable bastard," just before he tugs him down into a kiss, Dazai bending down all the way so he can catch his mouth into a kiss.
They were both fifteen when they met; Chuuya still in high school, Dazai to become Mori's right hand man later that year. To be known as the elusive Demon Prodigy within months all over Yokohama, a name that haunts and terrifies the city even if they do not know what he looks like.
Dazai never bothered going to school. That kind of rigid structure and environment wasn't really for him. Neither did he need it. At fifteen he was already highly knowledgeable in everything far beyond the course syllabus in maths and science. He became fluent in English and several other languages within weeks just from the trips Mori sent him on. History and other similar subjects that were too heavy on theory and thick paragraphs of reading were too boring for him to get through. At fifteen his biggest concern was that he did not know what he was living for.
Mori sent him undercover for a mission in a high school, and that's where he found Chuuya. Dazai became the popular kid of the school within days, whispers in the halls of his handsomeness and genius, and other times questions of the bandages on his arms and neck. The only one who seemed unimpressed by him was Chuuya, who figured out far too quickly that he wasn't quite there to study, but for something else entirely. His intelligence, while not quite on the same level as his, still fascinated Dazai.
It didn't help that he was so beautiful.
Being with Chuuya reignited something in him, and he felt the closest he ever felt to being a kid. The closest thing to a reason for living.
Dazai sought him out at lunch. Even when they had different classes, Dazai found him and sat with him. They became talk of the school. It seemed obvious something was going on between them despite all the fighting, and they were all right, because what followed were a lot of intense and heated broom closet make-out sessions.
When the mission was over, Dazai left, but he didn't really. Because over the months, Dazai would keep tabs on Chuuya, follow him wherever he went, whichever foster house he was passed to next and whichever school he had to move to.
Here's the thing. Having been on the streets since he was a child, Dazai had the street smarts to survive and thrive, and he preferred it to the foster system because he knew the foster system was brutal (as well as rigid, and Dazai doesn't do well with that).
Chuuya probably went through a good number of terrible households, and even after for the next year or so, he kept shifting between foster homes. Some were okay. Some were kinder and better. And some were horrible.
Dazai checked in on him every single time. For a while Chuuya didn't know he was doing that, when he circulated through the better environments. But some of the horrible foster parents he had did often coincidentally end up in some terrible accident, some even died in said mysterious accidents, depending on the severity of the bruises and injuries Chuuya had on him and how thin he seemed.
Well, Chuuya figured that out too.
"Alright," he said, folding his arms in the dead of night after the ambulance took away the dead bodies, "come out wherever you are, asshole."
Chuuya was interesting to him. He was sociable and polite with the other students, and it was clear he had a strong moral compass in certain ways, but he was not quite the sort of person who was upright in the way most common people are. Sure he has a conscience, sure he has a moral compass, but at the same borders on the gray areas of it. He is genuinely kinder than anyone Dazai knows. He goes out of his way to help out a friend, even if he knows he'll move away in a month and never see them again, and fights guys twice as big as him if they're bullying someone or bothering women, calls out guys that make vulgar jokes, tutors any kid who comes to him for help, takes care of the young ones in his foster family. And yet somehow, at the same time, he does not seem fazed by the things Dazai did to those people, even if maybe it was more for the sake of the other suffering kids in the foster home. He didn't seem to care much or ask as many questions about him being a Port Mafia member and later the boss either.
With periods of disappearance, mostly in an attempt to distance himself and avoid a thing that made him weak from his knees to his heart, he kept showing up in Chuuya's life over and over, as if he couldn't help himself, waiting for him outside his school. For all Chuuya complained about his stalking, it was obvious he didn't mind because as soon as they were somewhere alone together, Chuuya would lick his lips and look at him with pretty blue eyes that are slightly wide, and he would be the one to pull him close by his collar as he pressed back against the wall and let Dazai kiss him senseless.
The months that followed had Dazai sneaking through the windows of his foster homes in the night. Sometimes it was hard because Chuuya shared a room with someone, and the best was when he got his own room. They played video games together if there were any, or went to the arcade, or just made out on his temporary bed when no one was home.
When Dazai's salary skyrocketed, the first thing he did was buy a two-bedroom apartment for Chuuya to live in. At sixteen, Chuuya was out of the foster system, working a job to pay rent while going to school. Dazai honestly thought it was ridiculous, but he let the silly chibi have his pride and dignity about not wanting to depend on Dazai financially. While it's technically Chuuya's, since Dazai often was busy and spent most of his days in the Port Mafia tower, it may as well be Dazai's place too from how much of his stuff is here. It's just that his presence here is scarce, the other and most important reason being that no one can know about Chuuya's existence to be used as leverage by his countless enemies.
When he is eighteen, Dazai learns what Mori plans to do to Odasaku, and before he does he slits his throat in his office and becomes the new Port Mafia Boss, effectively coming into power.
***
"How was your day, chibi?" They're relaxing on the settee, a glass of wine in Chuuya's hand and a bottle of sake in Dazai's.
"Fine. Remember that guy I told you about, from the CS department? The guy who got me meds especially for my fever last week, and went out of his way to show me to the classrooms the first day?"
"Hmm?" Dazai is pulling back a sip, head tilted back, all expensive black suit and a fancy silver watch and his tie loose, the top button undone.
"He asked me out."
Dazai pauses.
"Oh?" he says, slow, his glass now hovering over his mouth.
"Yeah."
"And what did Chuuya say?"
"Mm. Told him I was already with someone. But he seemed cool, kinda good looking too, definitely didn't have any annoying streaks and the urge to harrass me. " Chuuya puts his wine glass down, leaning into Dazai's space, a glint in his eyes, "you know, I kinda like that in a partner. Maybe you should think twice next time before you try and piss me off, 'cause then I might have to consider taking him up on that coffee as vengeance. Plus since he's not some big bad mafia boss he'll be around more often - "
Dazai cuts him off by a hand around his throat, pulling him roughly into his face, all cold and dark eyed. It's not a hard grip, just enough to convey a message.
"What's wrong, Dazai?" he whispers over his mouth, smirking, "Jealous?"
Dazai's face looks calm, except for the subtle wildness and fire in his eyes. They are calculating, dangerous, as they rove over Chuuya's face, his lazy and cocky grin. Chuuya knows the look, the message, the same thing that makes him murmur into his choker between kisses in bed, brushing his nose against his skin as he breathes him in, mine, mine, mine. No one else can touch you or have you. You're mine.
"Bed," is all Dazai says, their faces close, "Now."
When they're there Dazai throws him back onto the bed, crawls over him and kisses him there with his bandaged hand light around his throat.
Most of the time Chuuya is the one who takes charge between them in bed, his favorite position riding Dazai. But when Dazai is in charge, he is painfully tender with Chuuya, kissing him slow and long and hungry, kissing him everywhere from his neck and shoulders to his belly, the inside of his thighs, the arch of his feet. His hands. His wrists. He makes love to him more than anything, in a way that feels so bizarrely contrasting sometimes from his usual infuriating, teasing personality. Chuuya, having never had much gentleness in his life, liked it.
But there are times he just wants to rile Dazai up the way he always does him, even when they both know; there is no one else. There never could be. But Dazai's possessiveness is of such intensity that even the thought or suggestion of such a thing has him worked up.
They're lying in bed, Dazai's fingers brushing the bruises he sucked onto Chuuya's skin, his neck and his shoulders, then running a strand of his red hair between his fingers. He looks covertly pleased and satisfied by the sight. Chuuya's bare legs are hanging over Dazai's hips, ankles crossed, hands playing with the edges of the bandages on Dazai's bare chest.
"Bastard," Chuuya mumbles, "how the fuck am I gonna hide all the hickeys in class tomorrow?"
"Who says Chuuya has to?"
"You're kidding, right? You want me to parade around letting everyone know I just got fucked within an inch of my life?"
Dazai smirks, his fingers now tracing his choker. Why did Chuuya even ask? Of course that's what the bastard wants.
He sighs. "Asshole."
"Make sure the CS guy sees it."
***
The Saturday morning that follows, Dazai doesn't care to show up to the HQ, never does on weekends with Chuuya. Now at times he doesn't care much for the work either unless it's urgent. There is a threat to the mafia these days by a fairly strong organization so he is on a video call with a few trusted subordinates, namely Gin, Kouyou and Akutagawa discussing details.
It's when the discussion is ongoing between the other members that Chuuya appears in the background of his video call in only Dazai's oversized moss green shirt that covers him down to his thighs, all bed hair stuck up adorably from all sides, half-asleep as he grabs a mug and starts making himself coffee.
Dazai glances back at him over his shoulder, leans forward to move his mouse and turn the video call screen off while the audio remains on. Technically no one truly knows about Chuuya but he also knows none of them will ever ask questions, and it's likely they will just see him as a one-night stand. It's not something they'd ever seen, seeing as he was too busy being Chuuya's in secret to look at anyone else that way. But the alternative is even more unthinkable to most: Dazai Osamu, in love, and with an ungifted at that too.
In bars and mission events and ball parties, he always noticed the interested women and men, and gave them clear cues that he was bored and apathetic to them. Because no one compares to Chuuya for him. No one will ever be as bright and fascinating and beautiful as his Chuuya.
Dazai stands up and moves over to him, enveloping the tiny chibi in his arms from behind and kissing his bare shoulder where his shirt is hanging loose off of it.
"Hello," he murmurs, inhaling his skin. Chuuya hums a nonverbal greeting.
Chuuya turns with his mug of coffee and raises it high when Dazai grabs him by his underarms and lifts him onto the counter top, wrapping him up in his arms and pushing his mouth into the hollow of his shoulder. Without his coffee Chuuya is still so sleepy that he lays his head against Dazai's shoulder, dozing off on it. Dazai laughs, pulling him closer with a hand to the back of his head.
"Chuuya will drop his coffee," Dazai says.
Chuuya makes an incomprehensible noise and makes no move to straighten up.
Dazai runs a bandaged hand up and down his spine, soothing and firm. Kisses his red hair, and can smell the faint scent of his shampoo from last night's shower.
Dazai takes Chuuya's coffee out of his hand and puts it on the counter, and now holds him even more comfortably, with Chuuya's face tucked into his collarbone.
After a while Dazai takes his face between his hands and draws him away, Chuuya's head tilted up with his neck craned and his eyes closed, as if he can't keep it up. Dazai leans down and kisses him, stroking his red hair behind his ear, running a thumb at his cheek back and forth.
Dazai hands him his coffee and Chuuya takes a sip. The change in his personality takes a minute as the caffeine kicks in, sighing in pleasure as he holds the mug between his hands.
"Chuuya seems more human now and less like a sleepy slug."
"Shut it mackerel," Chuuya says into another sip.
"Is the chibi wearing anything under the shirt?" Dazai's curious hands are already reaching under his shirt to touch his hips, hoping to find bare skin on the days he gets lucky enough for the sight. Chuuya lifts a foot and plants it into his chest, holding him back. Dazai is disappointed at the sight of the boxers, pouting, but at least the flexibility is sexy enough to compensate.
"I gotta meet a friend in a bit and I'm not gonna be late for it because of you," Chuuya tells him as Dazai reaches for him again, leaning towards him for a kiss, "Oi, I mean it asshole."
"We'll be quick --"
"Shut up."
Dazai sighs, "Fine. I'll go back to my meeting then." Chuuya lets him close enough to kiss his forehead, then he turns around, making his way back to the laptop.
Only to feel Chuuya's legs around his waist jerking him back and right into his smirking face, his hand grabbing Dazai's jaw and hauling him into a kiss that's open-mouthed and heavy and devouring. Their heads move together into it, back and forth against each other, softening towards the end as they come to a slow still.
Chuuya lets go of the kiss, hand still tight around Dazai's jaw. "That's all you get, got it? No more than this."
Dazai is dazed: fairly rare in most situations, but when it comes to Chuuya it's far more common than it should be.
When Dazai gets back to his laptop, he's smiling very slightly, head full of the kiss. Chuuya's gone to the bathroom to get fresh and ready. He opens the video call again, the window maximizing to show the three faces on the screen.
All three of them are unmoving, the screens seemingly frozen as they are staring at him.
"It seems there's a connection issue on my end," Dazai says into the mic, "I will try restarting the call."
"Yes," Akutagawa says, clearing his throat, strangely wide-eyed, "connection issue... Dazai-san."
...well. It doesn't look like there's any connection issue from how fast and smooth the audio came. Yet everyone is still frozen.
It doesn't take more than ten seconds to suspect.
"Was the video call still running?" Dazai asks, leaning back against the chair, sounding rather nonchalant. Even though he knows what a mistake - terrible, rookie mistake - this has been. They are his most trusted subordinates and executive, yes, but the fact of the matter is that Chuuya's existence was not to be known by a single soul of the world Dazai resides in. That's the only way this works. Unfortunately he is not quite tech-savvy, among his few underskills, which is why he often avoids such things.
"Yes," Gin is the one to speak up, pink.
"I see. Well, you know the drill. No one is to know," Dazai says, a dangerous hint under his otherwise breezy, unfazed voice, "this information doesn't leave outside our call. Because if it does, if anyone other than the three of you know of this, I will personally see you in the torture room. Is that clear?"
"Yes Boss."
***
"Going back tomorrow morning?" Chuuya asks, pouring himself wine at their personal bar.
"Hmm. Will Chuuya miss me?"
"As if," Chuuya says, but his face is telling Dazai something else entirely, barely looking at him as he is done pouring himself a drink and putting the bottle down on the counter. "I can't wait for the peace I'll have when you're gone." He brings the glass to his mouth.
The thing about Chuuya is that, for all that he's loved and popular in his university with a hundred friends, he is still unbearably, painfully lonely.
And doesn't Dazai just understand that? That void that nothing and no one can ever fill except -
Except you, Dazai thinks, looking at Chuuya. His beautiful, beautiful Chuuya.
There is Odasaku, too, but in a different way. Odasaku is his best friend, the center of his heart. He eases his loneliness when he understands him in ways no one does.
But Chuuya feels like his soul. He makes Dazai forget it completely when he is with him.
He thinks - he knows, Chuuya feels the same.
And the way he looks, every time Dazai has to leave, tells him everything he needs to know. His head is bowed slightly over the bar, shoulders a little hunched.
Dazai steps up to his shoulder, turns him around to face him by his bicep.
He bends down and kisses him soft and sweet, drawing back after three seconds. When he opens his eyes, he sees Chuuya's eyes still closed to it, as if he isn't ready to come back from it yet. He smiles gently down at him and strokes Chuuya's hair back behind an ear. "Chuuya shouldn't drink so much, or else I'll have to stay and take care of him tomorrow morning."
"Maybe I should do it then," he murmurs. When he opens his eyes, it seems like it wasn't a thought he wanted to say out loud, temporarily incapacitated by the kiss. He adds, then, "Just to piss you off."
"I don't mind taking care of Chuuya."
Dazai's phone vibrates in his pocket. He digs it out to see Gin's name on the ID caller.
Two things happen at once.
The first is that when he answers, it's to her urgent, "Dazai-san! We had an encounter with an ability user who can extract information out of minds with a touch! We believe the location of your partner has been compromised!"
The second is that as she speaks, a red laser point appears over Chuuya's heart.
"GET DOWN!"