Work Text:
This fic was based on this prompt.
I.
tf are u thinking wearing that ugly ass trench coat
i liked u better when u wore the black one
Sending...
jokes on u shitty dazai m getting a new partner
or not
fuck now they wont let me work with anyone else because of u
why cant just they find someone else
tf so special about ur bandange wasting ass
Sending...
tachihara-kun wears fukcing bandages
hes nicer
likes my hat
doesnt call me chbi
but
Sending...
he isn't u, osamu
Sending...
II.
It happened on a Saturday.
No alarms. No notifications. Chuuya had never really been the one to check his phone on a minute-to-minute basis, because the fuck does he care about people messaging him (the Port Mafia knows him better than that), and Chuuya just kind of slumped on the nearest leather couch, spent after a long day's work, so there's that.
(Okay, so maybe his ears are a little too strained hearing their newest dealer scream too much today, and lately his torture sessions just seemed to get more brutal and inhuman and bloody. Chuuya should be able to handle at least deafened ears.)
He remembered how people always caved in when it was Dazai who did the work - the youngest executive's one-eyed gaze enough to send anyone pissing their pants. Dazai always knew which parts hurts the most, knew exactly how to aim his hit, the way he always knew what words to say to Chuuya -
Okay. So maybe thinking about Dazai was a mistake.
Or no.
Actually, now that Chuuya looked back to it, thinking about Dazai, writing about Dazai - all of it had been a mistake.
Chuuya only kept his old phone for sentimental reasons. He liked revisiting past conversations, liked dwelling on severed pasts, liked pretending that they still talked even though it's pretty much just a one-way conversation now. But as much as Chuuya loved the messenger app, he never really connected it to the internet, because one-way conversations are only ever called one-way...because the other should never be able to reply.
Needless to say, you could only imagine his shock when he saw how all of those 2,456 messages (counting the pictures, GIFs, and videos) suddenly got sent in a span of minutes.
just fucking come back to me already, shitty dazai!
Sent. 11:17pm.
"Fuck."
III.
"Dazai."
"Good morning, chibi ~ "
"...why the fuck are you in my doorstep."
"You asked me to come, didn't you?"
"..."
"..."
"Oi. Did you - "
"I received a message from Hirotsu-san that you won't make it to the meeting place today. So, being the good detective and responsible co-worker I am, I took it upon myself to visit your humble abode."
"...the fuck are you saying?"
"Did your hat finally affect your ability to understand complicated words?"
"Okay, first off: I'm not even wearing my hat right now - "
"So wearing it do have some side effects."
"It's too early for this shit! I'm literally in my pajamas! And second off, good and responsible aren't complicated words, dumbass. They just never existed in your vocabulary."
"So stingy in the morning, Chuuya ~ Is this how you plan to greet your husband right after you woke up from bed?"
"You shitty good-for-nothing bandage wasting device! Who said anything about a husband?"
"You just did ~"
"...cut the shit, Dazai. Tell me why you're here."
"I just told you!"
"Don't fucking leer at me, you bastard, I know you read the messages - !"
"...what messages?"
"...fuck."
IV.
"What a situation you've landed yourself into, Chuuya-kun."
Across the table, Chuuya narrowed his eyes at Ane-san while she took a graceful sip of her tea. If anything it looked audacious. Mocking, even. Everyone else in the Port Mafia might know Kouyou as one of the ruthless five executives, wielder of the Golden Demon, but to Chuuya she's always been Ane-san, for better or worse.
"Find someone who can hack into his phone and delete all his messages." Chuuya ordered, but coming from his mouth it almost sounded like a plea.
"And why would I?" Another sip.
"Because I'm your one and only protege?" Chuuya tried.
"Really, Chuuya-kun?"
"...uhm, because I'm a fellow executive?"
Another sip, before Ane-san downright glared at Chuuya. Reminded him just exactly what the words fellow executive meant, and how he had last chance to get it right before she whipped out Golden Demon and threw his heavy ass out of her office.
Chuuya's left eye twitched. If he was being honest with himself, he knew exactly what she wanted. But as much as Chuuya hated Dazai and as much as he had to prevent the mackerel from reading his messages at all costs, Chuuya liked to salvage the last tidbits of his dignity, thank you very much.
"I wonder how long would it take Dazai-kun to read years' worth of spam messages." Ane-san mused, eyes twinkling. "Judging his skills as a genius, it probably won't take too long, but seieng as the message was from you - "
"Fuck it! Fine! I'll do what you want!" Chuuya relented, exasperated, as he slammed his hands and the table and almost knocked down Ane-san's tea set.
A chill run down his spine as Ane-san's lips pressed into a thin line.
"What I meant was...I'll be glad to be assistance, Ozaki-sama. I'm sure - " Chuuya choked out, quite against his will, "I'm sure the ladies will be glad to have me back."
Ane-san's face immediately brightened up at this, the way Chuuya used to do whenever he'd gotten sweet deals for his pursuits in wine. It dawned on Chuuya that maybe this was her plan all along, to drive Chuuya into a corner just so he'd make that choice out of desperation. It reminded him so much of that shitty Dazai that he grit his teeth, but he had to keep his calm for Ane-san. Surely she knew someone good at hacking -
"Chuuya-kun." Another sip.
"Yes, Ane-san?"
"You do know you'll never find a better hacker than Dazai-kun, right?"
"What, you want me to get him hack his own phone?"
This time Ane-san rose to her full height, slamming her hands to the table and reminding Chuuya where exactly he got his bursts of temper from.
"Alright, Chuuya-kun. First off, don't you ever use that tone of voice on me. I couldn't care less from the vulgarities that spill from your mouth even in front of the boss, but when you address me, you address me like the good boy I know you are and none of that shit."
Chuuya snapped up to his seat, his posture suddenly straight and body language compliant. He felt like the little kid back in her brothel, only beginning to adress himself as "ore" after a lot of embarrassed attempts.
"Second off, what's wrong with Dazai-kun reading your messages? It's not like it contained years' worth of repressed feelings and drunken confessions - "
"...I'm forever indebted to you, Ane-san, but why else would I fucking ask you to hack into his phone and delete everything? "
"...because you have bad grammar?"
"You know what? Forget it."
V.
u rly can open ur way trhougha nything
dont u??
even ppls hearts
Sending...
VI.
"Why are looking at me like that?" Chuuya asked, gripping his knife from across the table.
"Like what?"
Dazai munched on his pancakes rather noisily, without as much as breaking eye contact with Chuuya. The bastard knew what he was doing - hell, he knew what all of this about - and he still refused to say it.
"Like - " Like when we just met for the first time. Like the way you did when your plans fucked up and still have it work out in the end, like -
"Fuck it. Nevermind." Okay, so maybe Chuuya was the same, but like hell he'd be the one to say it first.
He wasn't exactly sure what to make of seeing Dazai first thing in the morning, but considering what happened the night prior, he could only assume two things: 1.) that Dazai received all of the 2,456 messages already, and 2.) that he already committed them to memory.
The third option Chuuya didn't as much consider. Because that would mean Dazai really was an idiot and as much as he called the mackerel with the same name on a daily basis, there's no way -
"I have something important to tell you, chibi." Dazai set down his fork, before letting out a heavy sigh. Chuuya's own breath hitched.
Here it comes.
Chuuya had convinced himself he was ready for it - his mind had already gone through the seven stages of grief the moment he heard Dazai's voice at the other side of the door - and since then he'd been steeling himself for any sort reaction: from the mindless teasing to flat-out rejection. Which was stupid, by the way, because it's not like Chuuya was trying to confess.
"About last night..." Dazai's reddish-brown eyes blinked at him, so soft it almost sorry.
Chuuya's thoughts might've been somewhere along the lines of: he's going to reject me oh God I'm not ready I DON'T THINK I'LL EVER BE READY fuck this shit maybe I should've just poisoned the pancakes and shut him up for good -
"...I was the reason your dealer wouldn't talk." Dazai said a little too quickly, much to Chuuya's confusion.
"...you what?"
Chuuya had to pinch himself to know that he wasn't dreaming - no, not quite - because as much as last night's scuffle stressed the hell out of him, he couldn't believe option three was fucking happening.
"The police found a brutally mangled body near the river," Dazai explained, suddenly developing an interest in his pancakes. "It was so unidentifiable that they couldn't trace it back to the mafia, but I knew. You always did like breaking teeth."
Like hell I'd spill my darkest secrets for a chibi, the dealer had grit, and all Chuuya had thought about was how dare the bastard say that nickname, and how he would bleed much better without all that teeth.
"It was a social experiment," Dazai sighed, looking awfully guilty with himself. And for all the wrong reasons too, but Chuuya didn't want to ruin it.
"I actually caught him a few days back, but I let him go. I told him if he had balls he'd rather die provoking you. I bet he still called you chibi in his final moments," Dazai munched on the pancakes, and there was a faraway look in his eyes that made Chuuya's own eye twitch. "He was a great man."
"Yeah. And a stupid one, too." Chuuya agreed, silently promising himself that he had to get that phone before Dazai, or else he might as well be a social experiment on his own.
VII.
you kno
u should really bring back that hairstyle
like
the one with shibusawa
dat was hot
Sending...
VIII.
"He's fucking with me, ane-san. Please. You - you said you would do something."
"I do recall you telling me to forget it, ne, Chuuya-kun? Or am I bad at hearing" Ane-san sipped her tea, unbothered by the seething redhead in front of her.
He considered taking the entire pot from her and chugging it down - just to show he could - but Chuuya had to remind himself that this was the same Kouyou who let him hide behind her skirt, when there were idiots like Dazai (Mostly Dazai) who loitered around like vultures.
Dazai could have his dead body for all he cared - after seeing the shitty Mackerel with that damned hairstyle, Chuuya just sort of died over and over again.
"You look like you could use either a good cup of tea or an entire bottle of whiskey," Ane-san remarked, at that point Chuuya just sort of slumped in front of her, because there really wasn't much he could do except regret the fact he refused her help in the first place.
"You know there's not much I can do when you're pouting like that, don't you, Chuuya-kun?" Ane-san sighed, and Chuuya blinked at her blearingly, unsure of what she was talking about, because what was the point anyway.
"No. You're not convincing me. Go away."
Chuuya slumped at the table and looked up to her, wondering why she sounded so hostile when all Chuuya was doing is regretting his stupid mouth -
"Damn you, Chuuya. Fine! I'll see what I can do!"
Whoa.
Chuuya suddenly got up from his position, brightening up with the energy of a thousand suns. "Ane-san. I knew you were such a - "
"No. It's not that I'm a good person, you're just too good at emotionally manipulating people, like that idiot Dazai." Ane-san waved a hand in dismissal, before proceeding to refill her tea with a sigh.
"Besides, there's not really much I wouldn't do for you, and you know it, lad."
IX.
"This is not what I meant."
Dazai made a show of looking at himself from top to bottom, before flashing Chuuya a deadpan look. It screamed: oh, you definitely wanted this.
Chuuya took out his phone and immediately dialed Ane-san's number.
"Ane-san?"
"Hmm?"
"What's this?"
"I don't quite get what you mean, Chuuya. Be more specific."
"...fine. What's a bandage wasting device doing in my dorrstep, all tied up like a brithday present, all gagged up and styled in a suit you know I very much hate, with a note that says, eat me?"
In front of him, Dazai raised an eyebrow. Chuuya couldn't bring hinself to look at the man.
"It's what you wanted isn't it?" Ane-san smirked through the phone, much to Chuuya's dismay.
"I told you to help me keep him distracted. Not to help me get laid."
"Are those not the same thing, Chuuya-kun?"
"No, it's not!" He almost yelled, before ending the call.
Chuuya looked at Dazai, daring the man to say something, until Chuuya realized that the mackerel couldn't talk even if he wanted to, with the huge duct tape plastered over his mouth.
At least Ane-san got one thing right.
Now if anyone saw him drag the shitty mackerel inside his suite, they know better than to say anything, most escepcially if the man is a very flustered, and very much tied-up Dazai Osamu.
X.
sometimes
i wonder what it would take
for me to keep you by my side
and not let you leave
Sending...
XI.
"Stop looking at me like that," Chuuya snapped, before popping himself open a bottle of wine. It was too early for him to get drunk, but the situation called for it.
No way he'd be dealing with this sober.
Sure, pop open a wine while I'm just standing right here, all tied up. Is this how you treat your guests? Dazai's eyes seemed to say.
"I told you, I never asked for any of this." He proceeded to check the damage, and couldn't help but let a low whistle as he examined Ane-san's work. Knowing how Dazai was with locks and handcuffs, they'd bound him with solid ropes this time, in tight double knots that should've been killiing the bastard slowly by now.
"Not bad," he crossed his arms, stepping back to admire the sight, because the possibility of this ever happening again was about as high as Chuuya.
There was a series of muffled noises coming from Dazai, and Chuuya took the time to rip off the duct tape from his mouth as slowly as he could, because he was an asshole like that. After a whole minute of dragging it out (and a lot of whining), Dazai's mouth was completely red, and so were his eyes.
"What." Chuuya tried to explain. "I told you, this is not -"
"You couldn't just remove it normally, could you?" Dazai yelled. It was an odd sight, seeing the brunette so exasperated, more so when there was a red spot in his face and he was all tied-up in Chuuya's living room.
"Now where would be the fun in that?" Chuuya retorted, not knowing where he found the bravado, but thanking whichever force that allowed him to bust it out.
Dazai sort of just stared at him for a moment, before finally saying:
"Tying me down won't keep me from leaving, chibi. You know this."
Chuuya's body froze at the words, the wine slipping from his grasp. There might've been the sound of glass breaking, of wine being split - but all Chuuya could hear was his own heart breaking, that, and the cold hard truth.
XII.
"Don't move, chibi! That's dangerous!"
"It's just glass shards, shitty Dazai."
"You're barefoot."
"So?"
"...let me clean it up. Untie me."
"I don't need your help."
"I never said you needed it, chibi."
“Still doesn’t give you the permission to do shit.”
“Untie me.”
"Look, you have no reason to be here. It's okay. Whatever Ane-san said to you - I'll take care of it. Just go."
"That's why I keep telling you to untie me."
"Oh, please. We all know you could escape anytime you wanted to. "
"...fine."
"..."
"..."
"See? Nothing could've held you down. "
Not even me, were the unspoken words.
"Tying me down never worked, chibi. You should know this."
"..."
"However, it's an entirely different matter if you ask me. I can stay, if you want to. All you have to do is say it."
XIII.
"Where's your phone, Dazai?"
"My...what?"
"Your phone. I need it. If you're going to sleep over, you're gonna have to give me - "
"Wow. I always thought of you as a tsundere, Chuuya. Guess I was wrong ~ "
"Where is it, mackerel?"
"Fine. Fine. Here."
"..."
"I'm just going to take a bath, chibi."
"Good. You stink."
"I'm using all of your bath bombs."
"I have money to burn, anyway."
"I'm using your shampoo and towels."
"If you want to take a bath, just go and take a bath."
"If you want to peek, the door's unlocked."
"Fuck, just go!"
XIV.
Chuuya watched Dazai's retreating figure, before tinkering with the bastard's phone.
For the record, he'd seen Dazai's worst. He's had:
1.) megane-chan from the library
2.) cute barista
3.) feisty bartender
4.) girl from Atrum (another bar)
5.) gang leader-chan
To:
1.) psychopathic fuck (Mori-san)
2.) chuuya's mom (Ane-san)
3.) my emo son (Akutagawa)
4.) his emo sister (Gin)
5.) Grandpa (Hirotsu-san)
6.) Hit List #1 (Chuuya eventually learned it was Tachihara)
Chuuya was actually surprised that the bastard had found himself a new phone, and it wasn't like Chuuya would hold it against him if he had the same contact names for the same people, or worse. He was used to it, anyway. Chuuya scrolled through the messages, looking for the name Slug - only to find the fucking phone devoid of all contacts, except for one.
There was no name on it this time, and Chuuya can only hope that whoever this was, it doesn't answer.
Chuuya pressed the call button.
XV.
A conversation between Chuuya and Dazai's possible archenemy/lover/partner/anyone else more important to be in the mackerel's contacts that isn't Chuuya:
"...Dazai-san?"
"..."
"Is there anything you need?"
"..."
"Listen, Dazai-san. About what you asked me last Friday - "
"It's me, Akutagawa."
"...fuck."
XVI.
"Dazai, why do you have Akutagawa's contact and not me?"
"Are you jealous, chibi?"
"Not as jealous as you will be when you find out what I sent you last night."
"...what."
"I can't believe you didn't even save my number, you stupid fuck! We've been partners for years and this is what I get - "
"No, I saved it chibi. It's in my old phone. The one I gave to Akutagawa in case of emergencies."
"...what."
"...what's wrong, Chuuya? You couldn't have...gasp."
"You said 'gasp' out loud."
"I know. It was for dramatic purposes - "
"Dramatic, my ass! Do you know how much messages were in there? 2,456 from the past four years! And that's not even counting the pictures!"
"So you're telling me you could've sent nudes and Akutagawa would be the one to receive them?"
"I'm talking about years of pent-up emotions, and your worried about your son seeing dick?!"
"So there are dick pics in there!"
"Yes there are and if you don't get me that phone this instant, forget about getting any!"
XVII.
"I - I'm sorry for bringing you out here, jinko." Akutagawa stuttered, pacing back and forth in front of Atsushi. Behind him, Rashomon alternated from giving the mafioso a few pats in the head and leering at Atsushi - which would've terrified anybody, but now Atsushi already knew it was the Rashomon's way of showing affection.
Not only that, seeing Akutagawa this flustered was a first, so it's not like Atsushi could leave even if Rashomon tore him apart. No, Atsushi would stay - if only to cackle despite his dismembered limbs.
"You're saying sorry," Atsushi remarked, the cool breeze of Yokohama harbor combing through his locks. He'd been about to sleep when he got a message through Kyouka telling him to go to the docks, and while Atsushi normally would've brought the entire ensemble after such request, he figured it should be okay by now since it was just Akutagawa.
The scene was almost too perfect: the moonlight shining above them, the sound of waves lapping the shore, one nervous boy and another waiting for what he had to say.
"What do you think this is about, jinko?" Akutagawa froze, eyes wide with what could only be described as horror.
Atsushi's cheeks flushed. This was it.
"You were going to admit your feelings." His heart was pounding, as he forced himself not to crumble under the mafioso's gaze. "You called me out here, because you're finally - "
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
Atsushi blinked.
"A - what?"
"I said, what the fuck are you talking about? I told we have an emergency, right?"
"An emergency...?"
"What did Kyouka tell you?"
He said, 'I need you right here with me, Atsushi. Meet me at the docks. Hurry. I need you now.
Atsushi's cheeks flushed, because it sounded a whole lot different in his ears as she said it.
"What emergency are we talking about?"
At this, Rashomon leered again, while Akutagawa only let out a defeated sigh.
"It's - it's about Chuuya-san, jinko. He - Dazai-san told me to take care of his phone in case of emergencies, but last night..."
"Last night...?"
If possible, Akutagawa's face had gotten a whole lot paler.
"I didn't want to have to do this, really, but you're part of the family now, and if I suffer, you suffer."
Akutagawa took out a sleek black phone from his pockets, before handing it to Atsushi.
One look at the wallpaper and he knew he had sinned.
XVIII.
"I - I don't know what to do with all this information, honestly."
"It's mostly drunk confessions, but the pictures - "
"Yeah, I never pegged Nakahara-san as the crossdressing type."
"Oh, it's a Port Mafia thing, jinko. He mostly does it courtesy of Kouyou-san, but I guess he experiments for Dazai-san."
"I would never be able to look at him without imagining him blond, Akutagawa,"
"But you have to admit - it's a good look."
"Yeah, of course. It compliments the blue eyes - wait, why exactly are you showing me all of this?"
"Dazai-san will probably kill me if he knew I read his wife's messages, but maybe he'll change his mind if he finds out you read it too."
"Wow. You expect too much from me."
"He's already listed you as his favorite, so - "
"Aw, don't worry, Akutagawa. You can still be my favorite ~"
"..."
"..."
"..."
"You don't have to respond, Aku, but please tell Rashomon to stop eating my hand."
"...he's trying to hold it, dumbass."
"Oh."
“…”
XIX.
"Give me your number."
"Excuse me?"
"Stop looking at me like that, jinko. After all the shit that's happened to Chuuya-san and Dazai-san, do you really want to rely on Kyouka with our messages?"
"What's wrong with Kyouka?"
"Just give it."
"No, I won't just give it. I'm done with you telling me to do shit with no context, you emo mafia. You're no better than - "
"What will you do if you find out I sent pictures."
"...so. They're just pictures."
"It's just like what Chuuya-san took, but Kyouka would have to see them first, because you wouldn't give me your fucking number."
"...you would never send shit like that, though."
"But you will."
XX.
Arf Arf
What did you save me as?
Sent. 1:05am
Rawr
apple of my eye
Sent. 1:05am
Arf Arf
cut the shit
tell me the truth
what did you save me as
Sent. 1:06am
Rawr
love of my life
Sent. 1:06am
Arf arf
I'll fucking kill you
Sent. 1:07am
Rawr
the husband to my wife
Sent. 1:07am
Arf Arf
SToP iT
Sent. 1:08am
Rawr
I'll tell you urs
u tell me mine
Sent. 1:09am
Arf Arf
the blood to my knife
the bags to my eyes
Sent. 1:10am
Rawr
fuck u
Sent. 1:10am
Arf Arf
FUCK YOU MORE
Sent. 1:11am
Rawr
fine
but the question is:
wHeN
Sent: 1:12am
Arf Arf
i'm deleting your number
then im kicking you out of this family
don't every show ur face in front of me ever again
Sent. 1:14am
Rawr
I don't show u my face
YOU come and see it
also
u cant do any of that
u love me
Sent 1:16am
Arf Arf
…that i do
Sent. 1:17am.
XXI.
“What a situation you’ve landed yourself into, Akutagawa-kun.”
Across the table, Akutagawa narrowed his eyes at Chuuya-san, who took a graceful sip of his wine. There was a smug look in his face that made him almost seem godly, but it was hard to look at him in the eyes now – considering the outfits Akutagawa had seen him in.
Still, it didn’t make him any lesser than any of the five executives, because cute as he might be dressing up as a rich ojou-sama, Chuuya-san was still the other half of the deadliest duo in Yokohama.
“I’ll do anything you want, Chuuya-san,” he begged, because there were some things Akutagawa valued more than pride. “Just – just make sure he doesn’t read that message.”
Chuuya –san considered, and for a moment there was a softness in his eyes that definitely hadn’t been there before. It was gone as soon as it appeared.
The executive grinned, and Akutagawa suddenly wished he’d phrased his words better.
“I’m expecting a thank you after this,” the redhead murmured, before chugging down the last of his drink.